Westhampton Pumpkin Roll

 I was told by a friend that the pumpkin roll in Westhampton was not to be missed.  I'd never heard of it, but we went to the festival and Finnegan really enjoyed petting piglets, baby llamas, seeing peacocks, feeding cows, boccing at chickens.  He also really liked using the old fashioned-corn shucker to take the kernels off of feed corn.  The older gentlemen running the station really seemed to like that the kids were doing all of the work for them and so no one minded that Finn had, oh, five or six turns.
 Right before the pumpkin roll, we left the festival and headed towards our car, waiting for the action.  It was a little disappointing initially as they staggered starting times this year and so you'd see a few pumpkins at a time rolling down the hill and then wait thirty seconds or so for another few to come.  At one point though, we had to leap out of the way as they continuously hopped the curb we were standing on and flew into the air to either split, or to smash upon impact.  It was pretty cool and I can definitely see us there in future years, tearing down the hill after Finnegan.

Finnegan's 2nd Birthday!

Finnegan's birthday fell on a Thursday this year and I planned to spend the day doing the things he likes.  I asked him what he wanted for breakfast and he asked for "dip-dips."  For all of those not fluent in Finneganese this means pancakes that he can dip in syrup.  His wish was my command and we went from there.  I had planned a fun morning at the park, but Finnegan decided that we should stay inside to play with his new gift; a baby and a stroller.  His butt spent more time in the stroller than his doll's did that day, and he didn't want to go any where or do anything because he didn't want to leave his baby or his stroller.  Still, he had a blast laughing his high pitched laugh he has when he is fully immersed in pretend play and feeding his baby all morning.  When Jon came home we celebrated with almond cake and an Elmo spoon and fork which really made the kid's entire afternoon.  What can we say, he's easy to please.  He's also an icing fiend and ate mostly frosting for his snack.  I can't say I really blame him; I love this chocolate fudge frosting and am always looking for occasions to make it.

On Saturday, we celebrated his birthday with family and friends and Finn did such a great job.  I really expected a melt down or two with all of the different people in his face and playing with all of his toys.  Instead, he was laughing and in a good mood all day, allowing people to hold him and cousins to push, pull, and carry him anywhere and everywhere.  

Finnegan is fairly obsessed with trains these days.  He begs for the train at the local park (which is now closed for the season, and thus a tough subject when he asks), he insists upon wearing only his "choo choo coat," even though it's getting really cold here and it's just a cotton hoodie.  Note to self: invest in a down vest for Finn.  Jon took charge of making decorations for outside and we used the banner I made last year for his big day.  The favors were conductor hats, handkerchiefs, and whistles.  (Here's a random aside, what an odd word handkerchief really is.)  The train we made for the food was an easy idea, but surprisingly difficult to put into action.

Below Finnegan was reading a book with his memere, but he jumped off the couch at the sound of Drew's voice (see little boy in black skeleton shirt) and ran to greet him.  The party, for Finn, began at that moment.  It became more exciting as more friends arrived, and Anny happily tried out his new doll stroller for him.  

My sister-in-law made Elmo and Cookie Monster cake balls, or Elbow and Cookie as they're known round these parts, for Finnegan's party guests.  They were so cute and looked extremely labor-intensive.  She sort of deserved a medal for these.

 I'm sad this is blurry, but still glad to see his little cheeks puffed out and his little curls peeking from underneath his cap.

 The niece express!

 The nephews.

 Several of my family members, braving the chilly afternoon for Finn's party.

 Finnegan wasn't happy to be sitting on my lap as I had grabbed him from his lawn mowing for the moment. As you can see, Drew had also been mowing the lawn with him and needed the mower in the picture.  I think Anny may be flirting with Drew. :)  Still, here we all are: these two amazing women that I met when Finn was just two months old.  They make me a better mom and I'm truly blessed to have so many great mom friends with whom to share the moments, the worries, and the triumphs.  I'm so glad to have celebrated my little boy who just turned two, but also to celebrate Jon and myself as we are celebrating two years as parents, as a trio, as a family.

Last ride of the season

Support your local bookstore

I am one of a dying breed of people who still enjoy reading books.  Actual books.  You know, with paper pages and such.  

I'm not perfect at it, and I will still hunt down the lowest price with the best of them, but I am trying to be better about purchasing things in my town.  Scratch that, in independent businesses in my town.  Don't get me wrong, I still shop at Walmart and Target, but if I can get it at Raven's Used Books, then why head to Barnes and Noble?  Well, at least in theory.  

For starters, Raven's didn't have what I was looking for.  Sure, I enjoyed gingerly walking through books stacked up to the ceiling with other books laying horizontally on top of vertical texts, only to find an old chrome toaster shoved in between sections as a book end of sorts.  I loved the sound of the rain outside, as I walked through exposed brick in the basement-esque setting and tried hard not to disturb any of the stacks of books on the floor because there was no more room on any shelf for them.  It made me think of the quotation by Agatha Christie,

It was clear that the books owned the shop rather than the other
way about. Everywhere they had run wild and taken possession of
their habitat, breeding and multiplying and clearly lacking any strong
hand to keep them down. (1963)

 Were I to own a book store, I wish it would be just the type that Raven's is, but I would wish to have enough volumes to intrigue/bring in all ages of people, living all types of dreams, pursuing all types of careers. The gentleman running the shop was very sweet in informing me that they did not carry the type of book I was looking for, and I was struck with the thought that although I have walked in this shop so many times, in all of the years I have lived in or near Northampton, I've only ever bought one thing there.  How do shops like that survive?

This brings me to another thought.  How do shops with surly staff survive?  I went to another bookstore in town, Broadside Books, and asked the "gentleman" at the counter for help.  I was greeted with a sigh and a look that very much stated that I had somehow disturbed him.  He stared at me with  eyes that were glazed over and made me feel as though I had somehow offended him by asking my question.  After enduring his snarky answer, I thanked him, though for the life of me, I'm unsure of why.  I knew at that moment that even if they were the only place around to carry what I wanted, I would never buy it there because the man was rude.  Rude because I had asked a question that he apparently deemed either stupid or perhaps just annoying.  

It reminded me of the safety found in Barnes and Nobles.  Huge book warehouses where you can ask the automatons a question and they don't seem to find it stupid because either a) so many other people have asked so many truly stupid questions that day that yours doesn't seem so bad in the scheme of things, or b) they don't feel the need to judge you based on the type of reading material you are looking for.  Perhaps even c) though they work for a huge company and perhaps feel no sense of true loyalty to it, they still want to aid you in navigating their huge place of employment.

In the end?  I did not buy the book I wanted at a local shop and will either find it in the library and rent it or buy it on half.com.  But, I honestly tried.  I took what little energy I had at the end of a long day and an even longer week and waited until my baby was in bed.  I headed out and walked in the rain after trying to find parking in downtown Northampton on a Friday night.  I looked solidly on my own for quite a while before asking for any help.  

I wanted to purchase my book locally.  

I just didn't want the attitude that came with it free of charge.

Sigh.

Hadley Sugar Shack

I feel as though New England, or perhaps just the Happy Valley, is full of quirky farm stands that boast beautiful pumpkins, local veggies and fruits, delicious baked goods, an animal or two, and a bounty of flowers.  The Sugar Shack isn't really an exception.  It has all of the above as well as some excellent maple soft serve ice cream. 

We met Drew and Stephanie there for a few hours one afternoon and they had a nice time sitting on tractors, playing in the sand, and trying to feed the pitiful offering of animals.  Apparently it is under construction until 2012 and most of the animals have found new homes while the playground structures are just plain dangerous in their random states of disarray.  Alas, two little boys who want to have fun can find entertainment in nearly anything and thus it was a nice afternoon indeed.

Last year, I took Finnegan there and placed him in front of the pumpkin growth chart they have.  He didn't want to look at the camera; some things never change. :)

How Much is Too Much?/The Return of the Wiley!

I never write anything soul searching or painfully honest on my blog.  Heck, I hardly ever update my blog. I just keep it light and airy and figure I really shouldn't offend anyone and besides, writing about my kid just seems like more fun.  Alas, it is so far from who I have always been, and who I am finding myself returning to bit by bit, to keep my mouth shut.  I try hard not to be rude, but when confronted, I am never short of quips, many of which are biting.

And yet, I find that when I am in terse situations with family or extended family I can't quite be honest anymore.  Not that I need to always share my opinion, but perhaps when others share their opinions of me.  Gone is the fearless Jackie that always existed, that prided herself on not taking any shit from anyone.  Have I lost some of my spunk when I gained my baby?  These days I am realizing more and more that I could be the nicest person in the world, but I wouldn't necessarily be proud of what I was teaching my son.  I do want him to know all about kindness, not just what it means, but what it really takes to be an inherently good and kind person.  But, I also need him to see that you stick up for yourself and for what is right, because if I don't teach him that then who the hell will?

Maybe this post should be entitled "Northampton Moms" because that's what set me off today.  When I see a situation in which Finnegan isn't being treated well by other children I always pause.  Is this me overreacting as a new-ish parent?  Am I feeling sensitive and annoyed about something my child will someday inevitably do to someone else's child?  Still, who will stick up for Finnegan if not me?  More importantly, what kind of lesson is Finn learning in the in-between moments, when he sees his mama standing right there watching another kid be mean to him and doing nothing?  The thought of that lesson for my baby makes me want to cry.

Today the train table, tomorrow high school.  Sigh.  Two oblivious moms, one of whom had a nine month old baby crawling three rows of books away from her on the floor.  She didn't even turn around to see where the baby had gone.  I watched the little girl nearly pull down the entire New England travel section on her head.  The mother didn't even blink an eye.  Perhaps this is what life is like with two kids and I am inexperienced.  Here I go again, doubting myself.  Somehow, I truly believe that should I ever have two kids I won't let one of them be buried alive in books because I am too busy gossiping.  Meanwhile, the woman's other daughter and another woman's son were battling it out at the train table.  They looked to be about five years old and were two incredibly poorly behaved kids.  The mothers kept their conversation going while making passive remarks such as, "Be nice, S."  or "Now, E, you need to share."  My own son watched wide-eyed as E barked at S while she intentionally would not move.  Finn watched E nearly scream at S while S threw her trains across the table in frustration and threw herself on the floor of the bookstore, screaming and kicking.  He watched S try to bite her mother and S's mother say, "Now, now don't bite me or you won't get a book."  Seriously? 

Finnegan seemed to breath a sigh of relief as the mother gathered her screaming five year old and her miraculously alive nine month old and head out of the book store.  Now E was left with no one to antagonize but my son and as he demanded, "EXCUSE ME! Move yourself now!!" I stepped in and told E that while it was nice that he said excuse me, Finnegan was too little to understand why he was using such a harsh tone and that he wasn't use to being told to move that way.  E's mother?  Did. Nothing. 

Then E yelled at Finnegan, "MOVE NOW!" when their trains weren't even on the same track. 
I told E, "His trains are not in your way, I don't think he needs to move in order for you to play." 
E's mother, "Now, E, be nice. He's little." 
Where was she when her son ripped all of Finn's trains off the track and dumped them into the middle of the train table?  Or when he took all of the coach cars and the caboose off of Finn's train and snapped them onto his own without a word and just left a 22 month old little boy to look at me like, "You can play that way?"

More importantly, where the hell was I?  The real me who should have said to the other mother, "Could you keep an eye on your son, he's really bullying mine.  My son is learning how to play and to be social through the behavior of yours and right now he's learning all of the wrong things."  Where the hell was I?  Somehow I feel as though I can't possibly comment on another person's parenting, even if it is absent, because I would hate it if they commented on mine.  But if Finn was bullying another child and I did nothing, then I would absolutely deserve their commentary. 

It's such a fine line to walk and I find myself vacillating between indignation that I should have to bite my tongue and risk my baby thinking I won't stick up for him, and passiveness that I could possibly be offending a parent that I may have to work with or interact with on some parent committee in the future.

How much is too much?