Chicago's littlest pet shop

Mae - hard at work making Shrimp Gumbo

Bela has big plans, and she's scheming early to make them happen. She has been trailing along behind her father and me for weeks now, requesting us to assign her chores in exchange for small amounts of money. This doesn't seem like a problem, I know. And it's not. Only, like in most other areas of my life, I didn't want to just jump in and do it all disorganized-like. I wanted a system. I needed some order. I required a way to track exactly what was being done and how much we were going to pay her.

And I took my time. What is wrong with me? My child was REQUESTING to empty the dishwasher, scrub the floors, sweep the stairs, wash the windows. Why didn't I jump on this bandwagon months - heck, years- ago?

Well, after weeks of procrastinating,  I finally devised some manageable, trackable, accountable system through which we shall deliver small amounts of american dollars to our children in exchange for simple household chores that they should be doing anyway.

But I feel good about this. I don't have a problem paying them for these domestic duties, and this is mostly because of what they are saving up for: A pet shop.

Bela has decided that when she is in college, or when Mom and Dad lose their jobs (whichever comes first) she will open her very own pet shop and we will work for her. Though the name of this store has evolved over time, we are currently looking at "Chicago's Littlest Pet Shop", with no real reference to actual square footage.

She has it all figured out. The store will include all types of animals (I'm currently looking for the list she wrote out - the only animal we had to put our foot down on was the owls). It will offer doggie daycare. It will have a selection of hairless creatures to cater to those with pet dander allergies.

As for distribution of duties: that's easy. She, along with her father and her sister, will have all the fun jobs: taking care of the sick animals, grooming the animals, feeding the animals, playing with the animals. And me? I deal with the customers. And manage the money. Go figure.

Anyway, here is how we are keeping track. Each chore is worth 10 cents, with a total possible earnable weekly  amount of just under $5.00 per week.

The rules are:

1) Every chore completed to our satisfaction receives 1 star.
2) 1 star = 10 cents
3) If you forget, we will not remind you and you will not receive a star.
4) Stars cannot be taken away (but we can use this threat as leverage if the situation calls for it)
5) We shall deliver the money once a week. Each child gets 2 jars for their money. One is under our control and into that jar we shall deposit 10% of their earnings. This is their "savings account." The other jar is under their control. They can choose to save it towards their future business, or buy something else terribly important, like a new Calico Critter. Or some crayons. Or gum.
6) Nobody will get paid to keep up with personal hygiene. Bathing, grooming, brushing teeth - these are givens. They must be done, and I will pay no one except in respect.

And that's it. We'll see where it lands us, but so far, it just tickles me to no end to see them setting and clearing the table, packing their own lunch, trying so very very hard to make their beds.

Needless to say, the drawings I've been finding all over the house these days reflect their current obsession. I hope you enjoy them as much as I have been. 

Bela's Pet Shop: The symbols in the boxes on top are "paw" prints. Guinea Pig, Hamster, Gerbil, Cat, Dog

Mae's girl (love the eyelashes) with a cat on a leash

Mae's boy - with a cat on a leash again.

The latest: Mae's copying of Bela's pet shop sign. Her prints = guinea pig, mama bunny, baby bunny, cat, dog, snake. Her cats have evolved and are much more cat like, in just the last week.

Magic

In my This Moment post from yesterday I mentioned my kitchen had been suddenly very busy. I don't know to what extent the girls consciously appreciate this time of year (my FAVORITE time of year), but things have been brewing like magic over here.

Our kitchen is where old auction pieces inspire days worth of enchantment. Where Apples get peeled lickety split, where slices get turned into apple pie, pulp turns into applesauce, and peels and cores get boiled down to juice and are transformed into apple jelly.

Apple Peeler/Slicer/Corer we picked up at last week's auction.

Oh yeah. Crumb Crust Deep Dish Apple Pie. Apples from Honey Hill Orchard, Waterman, IL.

My first jellies!

Our kitchen is where farm box pie pumpkins turn into toasted pips and roasted mush turns into spiced pumpkin waffles.

Pie pumpkin from Angelic Organics CSA

It's where a friend can show up with 30 pounds of tomatoes and an afternoon can be spent turning them into canned stewed tomatoes for winter soups, where leftover sogginess gets strained into juice for tomato jelly.

Farmer's Market Tomatoes - Thanks Karen!

This juice has been frozen. Awaiting time and a good friend to come help me experiment.

It's where one year ago this week I was doing the same thing, and where one year from now I plan on repeating, with a 7 year old, a 5 year old, and an almost 1 year old on my lap - eating pumpkin mush and applesauce. So here's to a season of good eats. I just love the Fall.

This Moment

A moment from our week, from our suddenly very busy kitchen. Happy first day of Autumn!

Iron, Wood, Candy

Though we've been together for 12 years, yesterday Chris and I celebrated our 6th wedding anniversary. Seems a trifling number - 6 - doesn't it? Especially in the grand scheme of things. We've been together a long time, we have. I was a 23-year-old young gal when we met, he a mere 21.

Three days prior to our anniversary I desperately googled "6th anniversary traditional gifts" - I got iron, wood, and candy. I was at a loss for iron, knew I would immediately eat any candy I purchased for him, and toyed with the idea of buying him a block of wood he could carve into an old fashioned fishing lure - except that he already has half a dozen little wooden fishies lying around the house already. No. I had nothing. No time, no inspiration, no creativity.

And then, on a visit to my Grandma's, we stopped by our very first auction: the estate sale of a recently-deceased but long-time-collector local man. On the block, so to speak? Light bulbs, old tools, rifles, antique books, tractors, tires, shelving, display cases, safes, and all manner of craziness. We were unprepared, naive, out of place. I admitted to the woman handing out buyers' numbers that I had never done this. She told me the basics, said she knew my dad, graduated high school with my aunt, wished me luck, and sent me on my way.

The auction starts at 9:30am

The man collected all manner of stuff: farm tools, old invoices, glass bottles of all shape and size...

Bela and Mae find a spot to sit on a cleared-out auction table.

And it was incredibly fun. We stayed 5 hours, taking turns checking on the girls, entertaining them, feeding them. I turned out to be a fairly conservative but still very assertive bidder. For under $135 we walked away with a full size bow and a complete set of antique arrows; moose antlers; an antique pulley; a drill and a scroll saw; an antique tool box; an old department of transportation map of Illinois; two children's desks; an antique dresser/secretary; an old toy bin; an antique brownie camera, and a few other odds and ends.

When all was said and done, we walked the girls across the street to the only ATM in town - it happened to be located at the Sweet Shop (remember the candy shop we visited on the fourth of July?). As I withdrew money to cover our fun but ridiculous purchases, the girls picked out candy for themselves, for me, and for their dad.

And as we loaded up our little car and opened our packs of sour patch kids and lollipops, I realized that we had done it. We had celebrated our anniversary in a style perfectly fitting us: a small town estate sale auction where we managed to get our hands on some iron, some wood, and some candy.

one of the desks - destined for some refinishing; old tool box

Camera, pulley, tools, apple corer/peeler

Bow, arrows, toy chest, an owl picture we actually picked up at my grandma's church

Happy Anniversary Chris. I love you.

This Moment

Heh heh... I'm liking this email to blog thing from my phone. Enjoy a special Mae Mae moment from our week. And have a great weekend!

Hiatus

This is the first time I'm blogging from my phone so we'll see how it works out. Or doesn't work out.

I've been on a bit of a hiatus from blog world, which only means of course I have so many things to blog about I can't find a chance to fit it all in.

In my last post I shared a photo of Bela's first day of school. Today, enjoy a picture of her last day.

At least her last day of public school. For now. And that's all I can say for the moment.

We are in the car, headed to my Grandma's cozy abode. On the agenda? Estate sale, bike riding, Apple picking and anniversary celebrating.

We'll talk soon, folks.

School

Bela's first day

This week has been momentous in our household. Bela started first grade, and Mae had her first day back at preschool. Dropping Mae off yesterday was a comforting effort - the familiar play yard, the beautiful classrooms filled with natural toys and soft colors and warm corners. When you walk into that school you feel like you're walking into a really great story, one that doesn't try too hard but always ends up inspiring and easing you along its winding paths.

Mae's first day

She gave her beloved teacher an enormous hug and received one back in return. She quickly sat down, removed her shoes, put on her slippers, and got down to the business of looking for changes in her old classroom. There is a wall missing now, so the teachers can see out into the play area while making the morning snack. There is a glorious tree sculpted around what used to be just a pipe running the vertical span of the wall. There are new "woolies" (sheepskins) scattered on the floor, an extra wool rug, and lots of crazy little kids to fill her old familiar space.

Dropping Bela off this week has been quite different. I won't lie....there have been tears, and it wasn't Bela who was crying. I won't embarrass him by admitting that Chris cried too, I will only say that most of the tears have been from me myself.

On the one hand, this has been very exciting for her, and she has taken on this new can-do, grown-up attitude that causes Chris and I to share secret glances of  wonder and humor. She talks older, she dresses older, and when she comes home from school she fixes a snack for her and Mae. Yesterday? Blueberries, roasted almonds, peach and graham crackers dipped in milk.

She loves to sit down and do her homework with me after dinner. We read books and record them in her log; we play number games, work on flash cards (words she "should have learned in kindergarten") and just sort of sit in wonder at how fast she is growing.

On the other hand, the extreme institutionalism of her new school is entirely opposite of what she is used to. She has a uniform (which we are trying our best to conform to, with a few exceptions for handmade sweaters that aren't quite navy blue). She has a large packet of homework to complete every week. They start their day with two hours of seated reading time, and then move on to math. Gym class, art, and those other "special but not terribly important" classes will be offered later, once a week each. There doesn't seem to be time for recess but her teacher found time to show them The Lion King in its entirety on the second day of class.

Bela wants to work hard. She loves making friends. She loves being the "good girl." She earned a golden ticket for good behavior yesterday and you would have thought she won a trip to Willy Wonka's factory. But she complains of feeling sleepy, of wanting to put her head down on her table and rest because it is so much hard work. And as I sit and listen to her recount her day I try to hide my public school anxiety.

This will be ok. I know we will make it work. The worst thing I could do right now would be to share my fears with my daughter, so I will keep them to myself and just.... wait and see. In the meantime, we will continue to race after her as she rides her bike the three blocks to school every morning, and we will be there to pick her up and do her homework with her when she comes home at the end of the day.

When in the world did I become old enough to have a first grader?