I didn’t write about it at the time because my heart was too bruised, but our beloved cocker spaniel Punkin died in September. She’d had a lot of health challenges in her last few years (2 knee surgeries, spinal problems, and a cancer removed that eventually returned to take her from us), but her eyes still sparkled and her trot had a little spring of joy on walks. She adored laying on the back of the couch to watch the world out the window, but her spinal problems meant that jumping up or down became strictly forbidden. We lived with laundry baskets covering all our couches and chairs for the last year to keep her on the ground. We’d lift her up to snuggle with us in the evenings, and set her gently back down when it was time for bed.
Life with an aging dog is emotional. I knew she wasn’t going to live forever, but she was still enjoying her days. When at last she couldn’t enjoy them anymore, we let her go. And cried. A lot. She was really my dog. She loved us all, but she loved me best, probably because I was home the most. We had the couches back and could go to bed without a trip into the cold backyard. I hated it. Four months later, I was still looking down to make sure I wasn’t stepping on her when I walk. I caught myself thinking I needed to let her outside. Cutting vegetables for dinner felt wrong without a dog to drop a few pieces to. Walking into an empty house with no dog to be happy to see me was lonely. Watching a movie without a dog on my lap was cold. I especially missed the family walks we took together after dinner.
As much as I missed having a dog, it was much harder for Tea. Tea is an Animal Lover. While he was desperate for another dog, we wanted to wait. Leaving a new dog with friends while we spent December in Thailand would have been cruel. So he coped as he best he could, begging constantly for “fur time”.
Neighbors very kindly offered to let him tag along on their dog walks, and he snuggled with my parents’ lab while he visited for a week in January. But it wasn’t the same. He yearned desperately for his own dog.
We kept watch online for the right addition to our family, and on “the best day of my (Tea’s) life” we found a sweet girl to join us.
Meet Cora, a one year old Catahoula mix with endless energy but also manners and a sweet heart.
The neighbor kids on the block have been rotating through our yard each day this week, helping Tea and Pea tire her out with tug or war and fetch general silly romps in the snow. They are all loving it. This morning she snuggled me in bed and was so cozy I considered staying put all day. We’re all still getting comfortable with each other, but she’s already well-loved and this morning, Tea said it best: “I really missed having a dog trotting around in the house. It’s so much better with Cora here!”
Indeed. It’s so much better with Cora here.
Something about the golden leaves and brisk air in fall reminds me of Belgium, and I can’t help but reminisce about the year I spent there, way back in 1995-96 as a (slightly moody – sorry about that, dear familie DeBrabandere) high school senior. Once a week (Wednesdays?) school got out early and that was the afternoon that my sister Elke and I would visit Meter and Bompa. Mama Chris would often do Meter’s hair while we ate thick slices of Meter’s heavenly apple cake. Bompa would give us tours of his vegetable garden and tell stories. I loved those afternoons. I would transport myself back to that kitchen in a heartbeat if I could.
Every time I’ve been back, I’ve been lucky to have some apple cake and visit with Meter and Bompa.
I’m glad Tea got a chance to meet Meter and Bompa on our last visit. So sadly, Bompa passed away this summer. The world is missing a very bright light without his smile.
Sometimes life gets a little challenging, and now is one of those times. I am currently coping by chopping off my hair, hugging trees under the guise of measuring them for a tree study, and eating comfort food. Enter Meter’s apple cake. It’s curative, and I recommend you try it, too.
Appeltaart van Meter
13 T butter, softened (or 9.5 T canola oil if avoiding dairy)
1 C sugar
1.5 t vanilla
1 T rum
3 eggs, separated
1.75 C flour
2 t baking powder
0.5 t salt
2 apples, peeled and chopped
Cream butter, sugar, vanilla, and rum. Slowly stir in flour, salt, baking powder. Stir in egg yolks and apples. Whip egg whites and fold them in. Pour batter into a 9″ spring form pan. Bake 355F for about 45 minutes until a toothpick comes out clean. Leave in pan for 10 minutes before removing to cool. Dust with powdered sugar.
We’ve been taking Thai language classes as a family since June.
We meet on campus weekly with other families who also have kids who want to learn Thai and split up into beginner and intermediate groups. We have the disadvantage of being the only family where at least one parent isn’t fluent, so all four of us are beginners, but it’s been a fun adventure and we are so lucky to have (four!) amazing, dedicated teachers.
Thai is a tonal language. What sounds like the same word can have 5 meanings, depending on the tone of voice used. I remember one lesson in particular when we learned the word for the Thai fruit “rose apple” : Chompu. I said, “Hold on. That’s the same word you taught us last week for the color pink, right?” Our teacher was confused and firmly said, “No, that’s Chompu.” Gaaah. It sounds the same to me but not at all the same to a Thai speaker, so if you get the tone wrong, it’s not necessarily easy for them to determine what you meant to say.
So far, we can all comfortably introduce ourselves and greet someone, indicate that we want “this” or “that”, that we like something, or ask an item’s price. We know numbers, fruits, colors, and family members.
This doesn’t sound like much, but it’s enough that we catch the kids cracking jokes in Thai, which I find to be so sweet and hilarious.
“Sawadee krup. Khun cheu arrai, krup?” (Hello, what is your name?)
“Pom cheu man faraang, krup!” (My name is potato!)
My favorite was this week when the boys tried translating parts a favorite English knock knock joke.
“Som you glad I didn’t say Kluay?” (Orange you glad I didn’t say banana?)
Obviously, this joke does not work in Thai, but that doesn’t stop my boys was falling into fits of hysterics. The going may be slow, and I don’t believe there’s any way to reach fluency without living immersed in a language, but I love that the kids are enthusiastic and enjoy using the words they know. The glee in Pea’s voice as he counted to 20 in class this week made us all smile, and I can always count on Tea to remember the more obscure vocabulary that was mentioned once but isn’t written in our notes.
I heard a rumor we might learn how to tell the kids things like, “Brush your teeth” and “Go to bed” next week. I’m not going to lie – I’m pretty excited about those. They’ll come in handy often!
Every summer, the last two weeks before school starts nearly does us in. This year it was especially ugly, but somehow we pulled through once again and made it to this morning. The most magical morning of the year. The morning I hand those bright, shining faces filled with excitement over to a school I love and teachers I trust. Thank goodness. We did it.
First and third grades, they’re coming for you.
I know it’ll get hot again as soon as the kids are stuffed into an AC-less school building next week, but today feels deliciously cool. My master gardener exam is complete, my volunteer hours done, and honestly? My garden is sort of dead to me. We didn’t get along this summer. I had too many hours I was required to be gardening elsewhere, so I neglected my own and it punished me. I actually have a zucchini plant thats first squash is finally starting to grow – it’s 1.5″ long. That’s not right.
Instead of dwelling on what could have been in the garden this summer, the cool air is redirecting my focus back to knitting. While I expertly
ignore the boys encourage the boys’ creativity, I am enjoying a cup of coffee as I work on a sweet little baby sweater. I have yarn next to me for two more sweaters after I finish this one. I’m set. Leave me alone until April.
I am done buying stuff for my kids. They have too much stuff. Even they agree, and Pea routinely shuffles out of his room, arms full of plastic crap, saying, “Mama, find another kid who wants this because I have too many toys to play with them all.” Yikes.
And yet this summer they came down with a severe case of coveting Pokemon cards. Obsessed at summer school, at play dates, at camp. One afternoon I looked out the window and saw five boys draped over various tree branches, up to 7 feet in the air, cards zipping back and forth between them. They enjoyed playing with their friends, but reallllly wanted their own cards.
I am not buying any. Not happening. I told them to buy their own. But when it came to actually committing money that could otherwise be spent on meat sticks at the farmers market, the boys couldn’t quite do it either. This morning, Tea found a solution. “I could make my own. But they won’t be Pokemon, they can be new. They’ll be Super Creatures. And we can make habitat cards, and people cards…. Pea! Come HERE!”
For months, the boys had been asking to sew their own stuffed animals. I’d been slow to respond because I really don’t sew. I know only enough to limp along, and while its useful to have a functioning sewing machine, I’m often frustrated because my only instruction was a half-semester in 7th grade when we made hideous sweatshirts. Mine was black with 4 different electric-colored bands of ribbing for the wrists, neck, and waist – pink, green, blue, purple. It was very early nineties. I digress.
One cold January day we were searching for a project and the boys again asked to sew their own stuffed animals. I handed them paper and markers and asked them to sketch their ideas. Tea drew a Muay Thai-boxing Totoro. Pea drew a dog.
They raided the scraps and got started. They made patterns from newspaper and cut their fabric (“Totoro has brown skin like mine”). I showed Tea how to hand sew the features on Totoro’s face, while Pea insisted he couldn’t sew his dog’s features until its head was stuffed. At Tea’s direction, I sewed a simple pair of shorts pieced from some square scraps.
Then it was dinner time and life happened and 6 months passed. The boys asked about finishing their projects every few weeks, often just at bed time or while we were walking out the door.
Finally we had a free summer day and I relented. I hovered over Tea as he used the machine to sew up the body. He only very nearly sewed through his finger 18 times. He energetically stuffed 47 pounds of fill into the body and hand sewed up the last bit.
Pea’s desgin had multiple pieces to sew and stuff, and he managed well, although sewing the stuffed legs onto the body was tricky so I helped out with that seam. He finished the rest, and then hand sewed all of the features last. Not wanting to stop, made a pom pom tail and he scavenged for more scraps to make a coat that fastens with a button, and a scarf.
They both had very strong opinions about each detail, which led to some deep breathing on my part, but they ultimately finished and were very proud of their creations. I’m impressed with how similar the finished products were to the initial drawings, since they did all the fabric cutting and 95% of the sewing. Is it too wishful for me to think they can handle their next project solo?