Braids Before Bed

All ready for bed!

My daughter has a mane of thick wavy golden hair. Over her (six) years we've seen it through several styles. First, bangs with the classic bob. Then, after getting lice in preschool, we cut it all off and it curled up into a little old lady style that somehow suited her. Since then we've been growing it out. She has no bangs and it's gotten pretty long - to the middle of her back.

Getting to the point where I can actually comb through her tresses without tears has been a mess of trial and error. After years of fights, we've finally come up with a system that works for us and I'm sharing it here in hopes it might work for some of you as well.

• Hair is washed every other night.
• In the shower I put in shampoo and conditioner at the same time and, after scrubbing her head, allow it to sit on her hair while I wash the rest of her body.
• Using a wide toothed comb I comb through her hair while the shampoo/conditioner is on her head. 
• Rinse it all out.
• Towel dry hair by squeezing (not rubbing) into a towel.
• Comb through again (should be super easy) and braid (this is a crucial step) before going to bed.
• In the morning take the braids out and brush (should be very few knots because the braids have kept it from knotting up) and re-style for the day.
• Evenings when it's not washed we brush and braid it before bedtime so the morning is easy and ready for restyling.

Following this routine has made our mornings so much easier. There are never tears and rarely arguments. She's become excited about trying different hair styles and tolerant to the time it takes me to achieve them. More important, bedtime hair-brushing before books has become a time for us to bond, chat about the day and plan for tomorrow.

It's amazing to me that something we used to dread so much has become a lovely end-of-day ritual that leaves us both smiling.

On weekend mornings (when there is more time) she
can take out the braids and brush her hair -get this -
all by herself!

There is Wine on the Ceiling

While at shopping at Trader Joe's yesterday I decided to buy the ingredients for meat sauce. Along with ground beef, garlic, onions, beef broth and tomatoes, I usually add red wine so I picked up some Two Buck Chuck. 

Once home I chopped up and sauteed the onion and garlic in olive oil for about 20 minutes - until the onion was translucent. I added the ground beef, breaking it up into small pieces and browning well. Dumping in one can of tomatoes and one can of beef broth I set about to open the wine.

Where was the corkscrew?  I searched everywhere without luck. My sauce was simmering but a main ingredient was missing. Desperate, I grabbed a knife and stabbed it into the cork.

Obediently, it plunged into the bottle allowing the wine to squirt out freely.

  Everywhere.

I need a corkscrew.

Where Did the Time Go?

I made the skirt for six-year-old Maia with about a yard of fabric (given to me by an awesome friend), elastic for the waist and some red rik-rak along the bottom seam. The shirt she never wore because she didn't like the picture (it was Andy Warhol) so I covered it with a piece of the skirt fabric. 

I kinda can't believe I made this.

I started at 10am and suddenly it was noon.

Cowgirl Skirt and Shirt Set 

The Zone

In seventh grade I somehow ended up in a sewing class. I don't even remember why I chose it. I'd never used a sewing machine before - let alone hand sewn a button. None of my friends sewed. It wasn't something that interested my parents.

But I found myself in the sewing class with a dozen machines, a bunch of girls I didn't know and a silver-haired teacher with glasses and a stern face. Our first project was a pair of shorts. For the life of me I couldn't figure out how the front and back came together to create something that could be worn. My mom took me to the fabric store and I chose a lavender cotton with tiny white dots. It wasn't a pattern I would ever wear, but I wasn't really thinking about that. It hadn't occurred to me that this new hobby could produce garments I'd actually be seen in.

Halfway through the semester, my parents and sister went on vacation (being an uncomfortably rebellious teenager, I refused to go.) A friend of my mom's had a daughter in college - Laura - and she came to stay with mr for the week.

Laura arrived with her sewing machine and a stack of Seventeen Magazines saying, "I heard you like to sew, so I brought these projects for us to work on!" The project was to sew two t-shirts into a dress and embellish with ribbons and such. The magazine photos were SO cute. We got started.

Sewing requires a lot of space so we set up on the long table in the kitchen. Snipping and seaming and gathering and sewing. I was fully involved and ended up with - if not an exact replica on the Seventeen model - something that was very close. Done! I looked at the clock and it was half past twelve. Midnight. The last time I'd looked it had been around 8. It was the first time in my life that I'd gotten so absorbed in a task (save reading) that everything else disappeared.

I call that place "the zone" and it's a wonderful place to be. There are very few activities that get me there, but the ones that do are my confirmed passions. Certainly reading was the first - getting so involved in a story that I entered the world inside the book. Then sewing, as I mentioned. In my late teens it became apparent that cooking and preparing for a party put me in that zone. Where others became frazzled and stressed at the thought of entertaining, I found the hours before the guests arrived to be similar to a solo dance around my home - cooking and cleaning and decorating - nothing else mattered. Then in my early 20s - three quarters of the way through a Masters in Jewish Studies - I got a computer and discovered a program called Printshop. It was my boyfriend's birthday and I had no money so I made him an extended card - a booklet really. It took me hours to complete - learning the program as I went along - but time stood still. Once again, it was almost midnight. Little did I know I'd discovered my career.

It took another three or four years before I realized that design could put me in that "zone" for which I longed. Then it took another few years before I understood that graphic design was a job and I could make it mine.

So here I am. It's 18 years later and I'm a graphic designer. I'm lucky that my work allows me to enter "the zone" on a regular basis. Don't get me wrong! It's not all timeless activity. Reaching that place is still a novelty but it's always a pleasure coming out of it with a beautiful product to show my client.

I bring this all up now because last week a friend bought me - I mean Maia - a sewing machine. I've been teaching both kids to make pillows and bags from scraps of fabric and old clothes. This weekend the kids are with their dad so I thought I'd try my hand at sewing from a pattern again -- first time in a couple of decades. I decided to go with pajama pants (which I needed) and bought a pattern and some gorgeous fabric on sale. I got started at around two pm. Next thing I know it's 4:30 and I have a pair of jammies that are über cool. The afternoon happily melted away. In fact - I forgot to eat - which is great since it's Yom Kippur and I was supposed to be fasting anyway.

How do you reach the "zone?"

 

World's Easiest Blackberry Galette

Last week I walked into the local market to find mounds of plump ripe blackberries begging me to take them home. I'm a compassionate soul and complied.

Once home I perused the kitchen for ingredients to bring out the most flavor from the berries and found a box of pre-made pie-crust, sugar and ... yes, I had one egg left. All the makings for a galette.

Following the directions on the pie-crust box I unrolled it flat on a piece of wax paper. After gently tossing the blackberries in about a half cup of sugar, I dumped them onto the middle of my pie dough.

Folding it all up is easy - fold up one section at a time - overlapping like pleats so that all the berries are contained.

To save washing, I cracked the egg into the same bowl that was used to toss the berries. A pastry or basting brush can be used (as can the back of a soup spoon) to brush the egg (white, yolk or both - your choice) onto the dough. A final sprinkle of sugar and into a 350 degree oven for about a half hour  - or until the crust is firm and golden.

Let cool slightly before serving with ice cream and shaved chocolate.

(Be sure to save some for the next morning - berry galette is gorgeous for breakfast with a strong cup of coffee.)

Joe eats his galette happily.

Sept. 29, 2011 - UPDATE:
Last night I made two galettes  - one with peaches and strawberries and one with figs. The only thing I did differently than the blackberry galette is that I added brown sugar and butter to the top of the fruit. Raves.

Summer of the Fleas

Back in May I volunteered to watch a friend's small dog because I thought it would be fun for the kids - Maia in particular. She loves little dogs. In fact - moving past the fact that the dog wasn't really house trained and that it irritated the hell out of Moses the Dog, our large Shepherd mix - we had fun with it.

The little dog stayed for almost two weeks and on the last day, while waiting for my friend to pick it up, I saw a flea scurrying across it's back. Whoa! I haven't seen a flea since I was in college when my cat had them. We used to give Moses flea medication, but since the marriage ended (three years ago) I've not bothered (that stuff is expensive!) and because Moses is basically a solitary dog, he's been fine. Nary a flea or tick in site. Ever.

I told my friend about the flea. She seemed to think it came from my backyard and shrugged it off. I knew my backyard was not responsible and also shrugged it off. The little dog left and the kids, Moses and I got back to our normal everyday routine.

Flea Trap made with a pie pan,
reading light and soapy water.

Towards the end of June small little bites started appearing on my ankles. They itched like crazy and I suddenly became aware of Moses's frantic scratching. Uh... do we have fleas? So I vacuumed, did tons of laundry and Ex brought me some topical flea medication to put on Moses's back. I even made a flea-trap. It didn't get better.

By the first week in July it was so bad that I felt like the little buggers had taken over my life. I was in pain and woke up every morning with new bites. A friend who had suffered the same fate years earlier took me under her wing and let me sleep in her guest room (while the kids were at their dad's). My first night there I slept for 16 hours - it was SUCH a relief to be rested and to wake without a new bite. She helped me devise a concrete plan to rid my house of the pests and gifted me $500 to help me see it through. (And thank goodness! See cost list below).

The plan of attack (literally) included an arsenal of itch-relief medications for me; medications, shots, baths, and boarding for Moses; flea bombs and professional treatments for my home. My friend  recommended Fleabusters and I called to make an appointment. In the days before they came I boarded Moses and bombed the house. Twice. I did it again a week after they came because Fleabuster treatment takes six weeks to work and I was leaving town anyway... And then, when I returned, another friend helped me vacuum my one room with carpeting (the room that serves as both my bedroom and my office). Over and over. And over.

It's now the end of August and the situation is much better but it's not finished. While Moses is now clear (on a double treatment of Comfortis and Advantage), I'm still seeing a flea here and there and I definitely got a new bite last night. Yesterday marked six weeks since Fleabusters treated my home and tomorrow morning I'll call them on their one year guarantee. Hopefully they'll come and treat the house again and six weeks from now I'll really be out of the woods. What is that? Second week in October? Here's to a flea-free Halloween.


PS - for whatever reason, the kids were not bothered by the fleas and didn't get any bites. Or if they did get bites they had no reactions to them.


Summer of the Fleas: Costs
$425 Fleabusters
$300 bombs (3 each, 3 times) and sprays
$300 medications, shots, washing and boarding Moses
$80 professional housecleaning
$100 anti-itch creams and lotions for me
GRAND TOTAL: $1205 (and the reason I didn't get a new computer monitor this year.)
Note that this list does not include the many hours spent vacuuming, laundering and sleeping at others' homes.
Not to mention the physical pain suffered from the bites. Scars will last for years.

Breezy Birthing Day

Pregnancy does not become me. Aside from the usual nausea and fatigue, I break out in acne worse than a pubescent hamburger flipper. It's nasty. Additionally, I'm a small person, so the last trimester is particularly painful. Maia (my second) would push at my ribs with her feet - as if she wanted to stretch out her legs. It became so bad that I had my friend, a midwife, strip my membranes to try and induce labor - something that was done quite successfully during my first pregnancy. It worked: two days later the contractions began.

During Contractions

Between Contractions

This is where most women launch into a diatribe about the trauma of their birthing experience. I know this because it's what I did after I had Joe (my first). Descriptions with details about episiotomy stitches and epidural headaches abound. I'm not gonna do that.


The contractions came exactly six years ago on a hot afternoon - soft and far apart - just like they're supposed to. I conducted my day as usual - worked (there was a deadline that had to be reached!), hung out with Joe, a new neighbor came by to visit. I called my doula - a longtime girlfriend who was coming up from Santa Cruz to help me out and take photos - so she could start her one-hour drive. My friend, the midwife, lived next door and checked in on me often.

It was late when the contractions became stronger and closer together. My husband (at the time) left me in the capable hands of my doula-friend and my midwife-friend who took shifts while he slept. It was wonderful. The labor was textbook - there was no pain between contractions and it was hard to tell when to leave for the hospital. Eventually my midwife-friend checked how far I was dilated and proclaimed us ready to go.

Once admitted to the hospital my friends and I lit a gardenia scented candle and tried to get some sleep (then-husband was at home with 4-year-old Joe). In the morning they offered pitocin to speed things along. When it was time to have the epidural I questioned it - maybe it's not needed? But the nurse and midwife-friend said to take it then or I there wouldn't be another chance. I took their advice.

My husband (at the time) arrived just as I was starting to push, and Maia slipped out fifteen minutes later. A beautiful healthy baby girl.

Easy, peasy, breezy.

Especially when you compare it to my first birthing experience: with Joe I had back labor and the pain was excruti----oops - I said I wasn't gonna do that.

What's your labor story? I know you want to tell it.

(All photos by Deborah Bresnick)