Monthly Archives: October 2010
It takes a Village….and I have one.
“And it’s good to be out where others can see you, so you can’t be your ghastly, spoiled self. It forces you to act slightly more elegantly, and this improves your thoughts and thereby the world.â€
Anne Lamott
Grace Eventually p. 233
I have posted before about how I really do believe “it takes a village to raise a child”. This is something I internalized long before I had children and it is something I have tried to remember as I have gone through the first five years of motherhood.
Recently I was able to see this village at work. Parents and kids gathered at the Parkhurst Pumpkin Patch to celebrate the beautiful fall day. There were at least two neighborhood playgroups and then a menagerie of church friends, school friends, and the list goes on and on. The kids were all younger than school-age…so four and below and well, they were going everywhere. This being said, the parents had little time to sit and chat but the friendship expressed was ever present.
I stood back and watched a group of kids running off to the hay bale maze and one parent took over…..then they ran back to the hay ride and different parents took charge. The kids were so comfortable asking different parents questions and for permission to do this or that. The parents, very naturally, guided the children from activity to activity. Babies were passed and wipes were shared. I have to say I love it when I am with a group of people that I feel comfortable asking for a baby wipe when I have neglected to bring my own stash….I am even more tickled when I am asked for a wipe and I actually have one.
I love that I have found a village where I can raise my children. My village extends much further than the women at the pumpkin patch. It extends to those who keep one child from running into the street while I am trying to retrieve the other at school pickup. My village includes those who call and e-mail me messages of encouragement and who continue to check on me. It encompasses the grandparents and aunts and uncles who love my children as much as I do, the people who continue to come to the boys’ birthday parties every year even though I usually get in over my head with chaos. The neighbors who keep me company during lonely work weeks and let me borrow the “one thing I forgot at the storeâ€. The parents who trust me to care for their children and especially those who love my kids enough to discipline them when I am not present.
So, this Thanksgiving Season I am thankful for my village.
I do have a village, do you?
Thunder UP
Law Man went out on a limb and went in on some Thunder tickets this season!!! The season opener is tonight and we are going!!!! THUNDER UP!
Enchanting New Mexico
Rainbow in front of Hermit’s Peak
We spent our Fall Break in the mountains and to say it was beautiful does not do it justice. I have always said….”God lives in New Mexico” and I still….at 32 and a Masters of Religion under my belt…believe that is true.
The natural beauty abounds but where I really see God is in the people. I love the rich culture you get in every shop, every conversation, every minute of people watching. Most of all…..I love their accents. I would take thousands of picture of the variety of people, but I think that might ruin a good thing. So, here are some pictures of our trip sans the people….it is still gorgeous.
Fall Colors in the Santa Fe National Forest
We saw several deer from our car.
Of course, we had to stop by Victory Ranch….the Alpaca showed us a new trick.
The boys did just enough playing to wear themselves out….these are the drums at Twirl….another NM must.
We had a lot of family bonding…talking…and yes, wrestling.
A fair amount of cuddling….I am not sure how much longer I will be able to rock both of them at the same time. 
I can’t leave out the beautiful food…..this was a Chili Relleno Nogado from the Relleno’s Cafe.
The beautiful fire we enjoyed every night.
And, of course….beautiful knitting.
Another Powell Princess
Our first look at Ella Mackenzie
Yesterday as we drove home from New Mexico, we anxiously awaited the arrival of Ella Mackenzie Powell. She was born at 9:39 pm….weighed 7 lbs 11 oz and was 21 inches long. She is precious and I can’t wait to meet her. Ella and her parents (my cousins) and her grandparents (my aunt and uncle) have been in my thoughts for the past few weeks. The anticipation of a new baby is huge…..but this one is particularly special. She is the first Powell girl since my mom.
My Mom, Patti Powell…there you go Steve and Char….I think this is my mom….she would be so proud.
Billy Mack is my mother’s little brother. If there were two people mom loved as much as me and my sisters, it was definitely her two brothers. She always lit up when she talked to them or talked about them. She acted like a little girl when they were around and they adored her, as well.
Mom and Uncle Steve checking out their little brother, Billy Mack
When Uncle Bill had “Perry Powell”, as Mom and Nanny (my grandmother) always called him, Mom was ecstatic. She loved having a nephew and he was always the smartest, cutest, most athletic little boy ever. Mom beamed as she handed him his Christmas present a few years ago…..Perry had asked for a book about Electrical Engineering something or other and that was exactly what she got him. I have no idea how much she paid for that, but she would have paid 10 times the amount, she was so proud.
I watched my baby cousin grow up through the daily conversations I had with Nanny. Every conversation included some form of “Perry Powell did……” or “Can you believe that Perry Powell….” Then, when I would go visit she would pull out a stack of Sapulpa newspapers and read every baseball statistic and academic award credited to her Perry Powell.
Perry and Tosha named their little girl Ella Mackenzie….as in Ella Mack….for Billy Mack. I love it and I know Mom and Nanny would be tickled. I may call her Ella Mack to everyone’s annoyance, but I feel justified after so patiently listening to every story about her dad, “that Perry Powell.”
Ella is absolutely beautiful and came complete with a little angel kiss on her forehead. I am sure she was kissed by numerous angels, but three kisses came from Mom, Nanny, and Papa…..I am sure of it. I know mom would say over and over again, “Can you believe little Perry is a daddy?”.
Uncle Bill and Perry are both men of few words, but I think this picture shows their pride and the love that mom always saw in both of them. When I looked at this picture….sideways on my iPhone…I saw Mom and Nanny smile. This photo is priceless.
Now, I am off to order little Ella Mack some yellow roses. These always remind me of my grandparents and my mom. They were present at the weddings of my grandparents, my mom, and all of my sisters in honor/memory of our grandparents. Papa would always send us yellow mini-rose bushes for Valentine’s Day. These are the flowers that brought me comfort at the memorial services for all three of these precious Powell’s. They are a symbol of our family’s legacy of perseverance and love. This is the love that will surround little Ella for the rest of her life.
****Note to my family….I know Mom would not like me to refer to her or little Ella as a princess…..but, it was a catchy title. She would also say, “no need to stick a bow on her little head….she is so beautiful….everyone will know she is a girl without it.”
Do Not Try This At Home!
I have often thought that if only I could burn calories while knitting like my friends do with their more athletic hobbies, I would be a perfect size 4. I have the discipline, the desire, the sheer will power to knit my way into losing at least 50 pounds if it just involved discipline, desire, and will power. Unfortunately you burn a mere 31 calories per hour as you sit and knit. This is compared to my running friends who burn upwards of 400 jogging or even 137 calories per hour walking. I decided to come up with a creative solution. I will knit as I walk.
This new workout regimen has not necessarily proven to be all that great for weight loss, but it has been a wonderful way to gauge peoples reaction to public spaces.  I love the double takes that I receive and the occasional, “are you really knitting?â€Â It might be the little spark inside me that enjoys an occasional subversive act, but I really do enjoy the spectators.
Yesterday, I was feeling exhausted after coming off of an emotionally exhausting weekend. I reminded myself of Newton’s first Law of Motion. Something in motion tends to stay in motion while something at rest tends to stay at rest. The nap I was promising myself if I did pry myself out of bed to get the boys to school, was not going to help me in my goal to keep moving. What did I do? I grab my knitting and I start walking.
I walk down the street to the park. I had make the turn down the main path as I see a group of people taking pictures of a baby. I think to myself, should I walk a different way, maybe turn around, or I could just walk to the other side of the street in hopes that they are so enthralled with the little one eating the leaves they will not notice. No, I decide, I will keep my path and just go about my business.
As I approach the mother with baby squirming out of her arms, I notice she is giving me a very funny look. I keep a steady course and hold my head high. I have the right to be walking and knitting as much as they have the right to use the park as a beautiful fall backdrop for their young child’s photo shoot. She is still looking at me as if she wants to say something but does not know exactly how to say it. I decide I will just focus on my knitting podcast and pretend I am walking side by side with the Knitting Historian. I feel my boldness grow as I get closer and closer to the woman. I begin to think about what I might say if she comments on my new workout practice.
“You are dragging something,†she says.
I look behind me and I realize I am dragging about 30 yards of yarn. It is following me like a trail of breadcrumbs.
I say, “thanks, how embarrassing†and begin to reel it in like you might a fishing line when you realize you have lost your bait. It took me about a dozen strides to pull the entire piece of yarn in to the bag hanging from my wrist.
“At least it isn’t toilet paper†the young mom quips.
It is at this point that I just laugh at myself and the spectacle I must have been. What else can you do? I just keep moving.
