Lotta Creative

One of my very favorite artists is Sweden native Lotta Jansdotter. I have been watching her prints, her paper goods, her fabric and her books fly off the shelves at stores like West Elm and Anthropologie.

Fate had it that she would be holding a workshop in Brooklyn at the same time I would already be in New York for a trade show.

We headed to her studio loft and found her bicycle parked outside her door. The whole building smelled like turpentine and eraser bits. I knew immediately that this was a very good idea.


Inside her studio...that's Lotta, on the left:



She was a gracious host with plenty of nibbles and eclectic music streaming from a fabulous west coast radio program.

We received step-by-step instructions on three print methods: potato printing, blockprinting, and stenciling.



I made this blockprint with the intention of stamping it in white ink on the back of my red valentine envelopes next year. The four hearts stand for Derek, Carson, Ella and Me; the Moroccan shape represents peace.

I cut all my supplies in half so I could bring the same experience home to Ella! What a wonderful day of creating freely!

Carson's Tubes: Round 2

Poor little guy has had an ear infection since January. After 6 visits to the doctor, 4 rounds of antibiotics and 3 shots of Rocefin, we decided it was time. He had outgrown the drainage tubes that he'd gotten at nine months, and clearly he still needed them.

It meant going back to Childrens Hospital for general anesthesia, then a 20 minute procedure to insert the new tubes, which would allow for better drainage.

They brought him Versed, a sedative that makes them...well, sort of drunk. It helps with the separation anxiety when they wheel the kids away.

In typical Carson fashion, he calmed our nerves by playing us the blues.

This is him afterward - groggy but fine. The surgeon said he drained a "considerable amount" of fluid from each ear. Three cheers for instant relief!

Simply Naked

It was bath time. Derek had almost gotten Carson in the tub when he darted off to his sister's room.

I chased him around the house and finally found him here: Gummy vitamin in one hand, Ella's Uggs on his feet, just doin' a little pre-pajama naked dance.

Mother's Day Blooming

Last year, Ella and I spent Mother's Day planting all of our flower beds and pots. It was a glorious day with our faces to the sun, our minds on each other, and our hands in the dirt. Derek was a huge help, and hauled dozens of pots and plants to the back deck. Ella and I stayed busy with important discussions on color and blend, spikes vs vines, mounding impatiens vs wandering petunias. We decided to do the same this year, and have locked it in as an annual family tradition.

Make no mistake; this is all part of my master plan to guilt them into planting all of my flowers on mothers day when I'm old and cranky. "But it's our Mother's Day tradition..." I'll weakly mutter as they roll their eyes and hand me a card.



Today, however, they radiated love and honor...and I drank in every minute of it.

I am many things to many people, but there's no role in life that I take more seriously. If what we leave behind is a testament to the kind of people we are, then let me tread lightly and love fiercely. Let me teach what I know, but also take time to let them teach me. Let me broaden the aperture of their world view. Let me push the laundry, the grocery list, the bills, and the office cubicle aside for one day of bliss in the sun with these incredible little people whom we have so beautifully made.

Little Mister

Sometimes a kid will grow in spurts - it's that way with physical growth and development.

Since February, Carson's personality has become much more clear.

He's a lover and a fighter. He screams and grunts when he's mad and uses a full dinner plate as a frisbee most nights. He kicks. He takes off his diaper and finger paints (!) in his crib.



He pees in our shower. He whines constantly if I'm paying attention to anything or anyone but him. He swings from the chandeliers and draws all over our furniture. He's the tiny gremlin in the house, constantly moving and hiding our shoes, our jewelry, our glasses.




Just about the time I think there is no hope, he does a funny little dance until I laugh with him or join him. We sing together and he lifts his arms for "out came the sun and dried up all the rain." He refuses to use a ladder at the playground; it's more fun to scale the slide from the bottom upward.

I'm watching this kid. He's smart, this one...and I think we could all learn from Carson's book of How to Love Steadfastly and Still Do What Makes Us Happy.

Every night he crawls into my lap, cups my cheeks in his tiny hands, and gazes into my eyes. He says..."Oh, maaaaaaama. Pwitty" and I get a bear hug. And the rest is forgotten.