The shower scene

With a newborn most mom's find it rather brain rattling to partake in a shower. What if the baby rolls over for the first time off the couch, down the stairs and into that large hole we've been meaning to fill in the basement???? He could get hungry and start to cry while I'm humming a tune and I'll emerge from my bliss to a withered little mass with recessed eyes and protruding belly all because I selfishly wanted to get clean!!! So we pack the little bean into the bathroom w/us. Unfortunately movement and the desire to see the world, not just us takes over. Now showers offer a whole other level of concern. Locking them in their crib or waiting till nap time seem the likely solution. Until they stop napping...and silently wait for you to slip into the beckoning shower.

I make sure they're all fed. I lock up the cabinets, fridge and freezer. Make sure the dog has gone potty and start to issue the threats. Do not...paint yourself with the art supplies. Do not...jump on the dog. Do not...play jedi knights with any cutlery. Do not...pile up the pillows by the fireplace hearth so you can jump off the coffee table onto them. Do not...put ANYTHING in Elijah's diaper...and so it goes on.

Taking a shower is a bit like going to check the mail. They know right where you are and you are otherwise occupied, it's the perfect window of opportunity. An ungodly amount of destruction can occur in this window.

7 :15am, I turn on the shower, leaving the door cracked of course. The room fills with steam and I step in to warmth, comfort and relaxation. What was that? definitely the dining table chair moving across the kitchen floor. Cabinets slamming, muffled whining, more sliding across kitchen floor, arguing starting to break out, more slamming, water turning on, laughing...lots of laughing. Barking! Barking! Barking! protests escalating, SCREAMING!!!! Something crashes, scurrying of feet and chairs. Still muffled crying now coming closer...shower pulls back...I have no idea what you're all saying!!!! Stop!!! One at a time!!! Get out!!! No you don't need a band-aid! Why are you blue??? No, you don't need medicine! Is that Chloe's bone in your diaper? Well take it out!!! No I can't get you milk right now!! JUST GOOOOOOO!!!!!! silence.

7:19am, I emerge...towel off, get dressed and go to assess the situation. Ethan is playing bionicle's in front of the fireplace, Elijah is thumbing through a book and Elaina is curled up on the couch with a blanket and Chloe at her feet watching cartoons. The kitchen is wet. A chair is turned over and 4 band-aid wrappers are strewn about in various conditions of disarray. Apparently the result of the destructive powers of gremlins not the sweet cherubs now reclining quietly by the fire. Beware my little opportunists my time is coming.

Here kitty, kitty...

Unlike cat's, kids have way more then 9 lives. I'm confident I save their lives multiple times a week if not every day! Much like today as I'm pulling out my hair to get everyone to at least go to the door so we can take Chloe to the dog park. The screaming ensues, why? I don't really know, something about Ethan touching the door knob. Now Elaina won't go outside. I carry her kicking and screaming to the car where she gets another attempt at my famous 1-2-3, failing I again swoop her up and place her in the car. All the while screaming bloody murder. We then head out down the road radio now full blast to drown out the cries of injustice. That's when the kicking starts on my seat, kick, kick, kick, kick, me counting 1-2-3-4-breathe-5-6 OK this is where the visions of reaching into the backseat, pulling her by her hair through the front window and running her over with my car start with earnest. Ethan's voice breaks through the flowery daydream...Elaina are you a princess? you want to live in my castle with me? something about poop thrown in for good measure and suddenly I hear a faint giggle. More questions containing poo and a fart now too, she's officially reeling. Once more her life saved. Ethan will get a 'get out of jail free' card later, I'm sure he'll be using it any time now.

This of course plays out daily, my hard headed children butting for whatever reason up against their hard headed mother. I hate to lose and apparently so do they, I just wish I knew what the fight was even about. I'm sure it's only going to get worse as we enter the teen years. I remember being so mad at my own parents for reasons that baffle me even today. I was convinced they were out to make my life miserable and I should head them off at the pass. The whole world was conspiring against me, luckily I think my friends all felt the same way so we eagerly encouraged each others lament. One day they will read this and say wow I'm sorry, or perhaps, hey my kids are doing the same thing I did! Regardless (and irregardless) I will continue to let them live another day, if only to see what they come up with next.
Dinner was sooooo easy, a testament to good ingredients, Thundering Hooves Pork Spareribs, fresh cornbread and oddly (I hate them) carrots!! wine later!!!! I'm thinking...02 St. Supery Napa Cab. can't recall the last cali wine we had! hope it's OK!

Earworm

I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart, (where?) down in my heart, (where?), down in my heart, I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart, (where?) down in my heart to stay. When my mom told me a while back that this was new term in the dictionary, I actually laughed. Seriously, what in the world is an earworm and how do I avoid getting it? Will the kids bring it home from school? is there some sort of drop or do I need a shot?? Oh no, Webster defines it as a song or tune that gets stuck in one's mind and repeats as if on a tape; also written ear-worm, ear worm; also called cognitive itch, sticky tune. I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart, (where?) down in my heart, (where?), down in my heart, I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart, (where?) down in my heart to stay. Now when the kids start singing a tune or more likely my husband (who is of course doing it on purpose) and it starts playing over and over and over in my head with no likely end, I can put a name to it. One of his favorites being "Ring of Fire" and it burns, burns, burns...ring of fiiiiiire, ring of fire. But alas, that is not the tune running through my brain every few seconds for the last few days. I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart, (where?) down in my heart, (where?), down in my heart, I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart, (where?) down in my heart to stay. The first day I thought it rather peppy and of course ironic being my then current state of mental health to have a sunday school song that to my knowledge my children don't even know, coursing repeatedly through my brain. Day two had me of course convinced this was God's way of telling me to get over myself. Day three I was questioning his sense of humor and now yes day 4 it gets it's own page, which truth be known was probably his plan all along. I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart, (where?) down in my heart, (where?), down in my heart, I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart, (where?) down in my heart to stay. So where does that leave me? Well, I can't help but think about childbirth and how they tell you to picture the baby smoothly and painlessly slipping out of your body, you are on the water, weightless and free as this new life is joyfully transitioning to the outside world. um riiiiiiight. Picturing yourself in a situation you long to be ie. the winner, the new job, the promotion, the successful whatever is not new. Thousands of tapes which you are to play in your sleep and make your subconscious believe you can attain your hearts desire, are swooped up by the masses every year. I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart, (where?) down in my heart, (where?), down in my heart, I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart, (where?) down in my heart to stay. Normally of course we are the ones that put those messages there, so is the message more powerful if we aren't the instigators? It's not really going to your subconscious if you consciously put it there!!! So what about if someone else did? What if you didn't know there was a tape playing while you slept that said, climb that mountain or give up that what ever? I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart, (where?) down in my heart, (where?), down in my heart, I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart, (where?) down in my heart to stay. All I know is that I've felt lighter, happier and more joy filled the last few days then any that I can remember. If I knew the hand motions I would be on my roof top performing for you all, right before the nice people came to take me away. I have alot to be Thankful for this year but most of all I'm thankful for the joy in my heart that is definitely here to stay.

Chin up, chin up...

Why this has become my mantra as of late baffles me. Maybe I'm becoming hypersensitive to the doom and gloom attitude persisting around me. I don't want to be Molly Sunshine here but really people this world is bigger than just you. I think how many situations that at the time put me in the deepest pit of despair. How many woe is me moments I've accumulated in the past ump-teen years and yet, at the end of the day, here I am. Still kickin' and yes screaming. This too shall pass people. I swear this is my last pep talk to the masses, I'm starting to feel guilty for being in such a good mood! Made a giant batch of chili yesterday, simmering spaghetti sauce as we speak and need to get my butt in gear and make some bread. Got the laundry all caught up and even managed 5 play dates this week, which granted is more than usual but oh so necessary for my mental health. Focus on what brings you joy! Cooking is mine, friends are mine, I actually managed to combine them this week and I was giddy!!! I had my pitty party and then I moved. on. So have a good cry, get it all out, pat yourself on the back and tell yourself how much the world simply sucks. But you know, it doesn't. The next time you bake a batch of cookies put 6 on a plate and walk it to your neighbors, if that doesn't lighten your step, then make a meal for someone you know is feeling worse then you, trust me they aren't hard to find. This week of Thanksgiving has me counting my blessing more than ever, it probably wouldn't hurt to do the same. I'm instituting a complain about it once rule. The first time you are free to vent and get it out of your system the next time you're getting a smack up side the head. That's my fair warning. Still searching for a spider picture to post at the head of this post, apparently they are few and far between once there is a freeze!!! Going back to my chocolate chip coffee cake with the crunchy streusel topping while it's still warm from the oven, I also think a second cup of joe is in order. Other than that, the day is wiiiiiiiiiiide open.

Getting out of the funk.

I somehow feel like I should have something pseudo monumental to write. Truth be known. I'm simply not that interesting. Our days are filled with pretty much the same relatively unexciting stuff. We get up, we clean, we head out some place, we come back, clean, we cook some stuff, we clean, we get Ethan, we clean and yet at the end of the day this place still needs to be cleaned. I understand how a factory worker feels putting the same sprocket in the same doo-hickey every single day. Breaking it up with seeing friends is of course key but life at home continues and the laundry will not fold itself. I can see now why I didn't have a gaggle of friends in our previous life. I was depressing. I must have oozed frustration, irritation and general malaise. I find it unbearably hard to be around those that aren't seeing the beauty in the fog lifting from the trees. I feel obligated, like maybe I'll be some beacon of light that they will come out of the depths to see. But if I'm honest with myself, its fading my own. I know I have to concentrate on those around me with the same joy, if I hold any hope in keeping mine alive. Maybe that's because I'm so new to being happy that it's easy for me to slip back, easy to pick up that coat and wear it all day long. and for what? we all want to help out, we see a friend suffering, struggling, barely doing a doggie paddle and I want to cast every thing off and dive in but man alive. At some point you need to pull up your bootstraps and figure it out. I sense some tough love coming, I'd like to say I hate confrontation but alas. Seriously people if you sit around complaining, waiting on some beam of light to shine on you and show you the way you're going to have a very sore butt. The beam will warm you I swear but you have to find your way to it yourself. Circles are ever flexible, they can be as big as you dare and as small as your sanity allows, I feel mine tightening. I'm taking this coat off now.

Sugar and Spice.

Girls are quiet, contemplative, gentle. They don't leap, they consider.

Girls hate creeping things with more legs then they have.

Girls like sunshine, a good book and a windowsill. They want to grow up to be what ever mom is and can't aspire to do it any better. Planning their dream wedding to the shining knight on the valiant steed occupies her days.

Girls know the bigger the castle they reside, the more tiny foot steps they too will hear one day.

Girls wear pink, with sparkles and as many frills as your imagination can muster.

Girls are happy to carry out what ever decision the powers that be instruct.

They would never pet a frog.

Girls are firmly planted on the ground, knowing danger could abound if they venture out.

Girls go about their business in virtual silence, knowing only of their play by the whisper of a giggle.

Girls don't like mud.

You are an amazing being my girl.

Anti-Climatic

I'm coming to the realization that most things in life are about the process. Making waffles this morning, the kids are all too eager to make, get, butter, slather on syrup, cut up and then leave to go watch cartoons all with out taking a bite of said waffle. My husband loves to make cheesecake, giant, beautiful, 10 lb orbs of sweet, creamy goodness that he has no intention of eating, but he likes the process. I'm discovering I like to knit, I like browsing all the different yarns, coming up with a project and executing it to near perfection, before of course Elaina decides to pull out the needle and drop 43 stitches. Do I wear any of my creations? not so much. With the holiday season upon us, the cornucopia of anti-climatic events will abound. I love planning the Thanksgiving meal. No I really do. I brine the turkey for 2 days, I bake the bread for the stuffing, I've been growing the brussel sprouts since April and my 2 butternut squash plants yielded 1 entire globe that will meet its demise on that fateful Thursday afternoon. All for what? none of us really like turkey. The kids aren't going to eat my stuffing or anything green, yellow or orange therefore ruling out the cranberries which are for me anyway. I will bake/roast/toast and saute all day and for what? 15 minutes it will be over. But it's the process. The smells of baking/roasting/toasting and saute-ing, wearing the white bakers apron all day, seeing the kids get excited about the next giant balloon appearing in the parade and dancing to the marching bands. December then kicks in with gusto. Shopping will be done, deals with Santa will be made and I will be up at 3am more excited than the kids to see their unabashed reactions to presents appearing out of thin air in our living room. And then it's over. The only thing left is the clean up, paper strewn about with pieces of cardboard where they tore desperately into the latest cache. Yielding a screw driver and bevy of batteries I will assume my post. Only to see the same once longed for devices laying forgoten and dismantled under a pile of pillows a week later. Things will change this year, long term fixation being key. I have a plan, it's all about the process.

Buying a little love.

Some parents use toys, other's use candy, ponies, trips to Disney or what ever else floats their little cherubs boats. I use food.

Waking up this morning to a brisk 28-degrees, I knew cocoa was in order. Yes, as the kiddo's were curled snugly in their beds, I was plotting. Hot chocolate with homemade marshmallows, accompanied by fresh made honey wheat toast would be this mornings menu. The marshmallows were a project yesterday and if you've never imbibed in one I highly recommend it. Not the chewy, lifeless sponge you stab on your campfire stick, but creamy, cloud-like puffs that melt as the warmth of your mouth envelopes them. These are the real deal. I understand now why someone demanded they be packaged and sold to the masses. Unfortunately, as with anything industrialized, they are now a reflection of their process, simply a cold waste of space in your cupboard. Things made at home ultimately have heart. You can taste it in the melding of perfectly blended spices in your families secret spaghetti sauce. It's in the quick grate of nutmeg on the spinach picked from the garden and in the comically orange scrambled eggs, a color only achieved by truly free range, grass, weed, worm, spider, garden pillaging foul. I doubt they pick up on all the effort now. Like many lessons I'm trying to cram in their heads, it's one best learned as they reflect upon childhood and hopefully be amongst the things they choose retain for their brood. There's a plethora of law's, rules, values that they need right now. Thinking ahead to some of the more subtle ones that may have real influence later is a delicate process. Right now it drowns me in hugs, kisses and squeals of delight, I only pray one day they will be swimming in the same.

Marshmallows: 13x9 pan, lined in foil, grease and heavy dust w/powdered sugar. 3 pks gelatin sprinkled over 1/2 cup cold water in bowl of mixer, let set till absorbed about 10-15 min. In a pan over med heat dissolve 2 cups sugar, 2/3 cup corn syrup, 1/4 tsp salt and 1/2 cup water. crank up heat and boil w/o stirring till 240-degrees. pour over gelatin slowly w/mixer on low, gently increase to high and beat till fluffy, thick and stiff about 15 min. add 2 tsp vanilla, blend to combine about 30 sec. scrape as best you can (sticky, thick, not easy) into prepared pan and smooth w/WET spatula. cover w/more powdered sugar and let set at room temp till set, a couple hours. turn out on counter and cut into squares (I used a pizza cutter) separating squares and rolling in more powdered sugar! hide from kids.

Hangin' up my cape.

I do not have a big S on my chest, I am certainly not faster than a speeding bullet and at 36 I'm not leaping over anything any time soon. So why is it that doing the stuff any normal mom does earns me this coveted title of being "Super"?

I think it's something that is thrown around haphazardly. It's done honestly of course, to make us feel like we're doing wonderful things, which any mom is. When I worked I was supermom because I worked and had 3 kids, what's so super about that!? I was psychotic trying to juggle everything, my kids ate like crap, I was usually at my wits end and I was the annoying mom that went in to daycare to pick them up while still fielding orders on my cell, an appendage I was all too happy to now leave in my purse. Now of course seeing a parent pick up their kid at school while chatting non-stop on the phone ranks up there with a million crazed squirrels scurrying across a walnut laced chalk board floor, I want to rip it from their heads and scream at them to at least feign excitement at seeing their child while I jump up and down on their plastic god.

Yes, now I pick my kid up from school and yes, I make sure he knows I missed him. Like any good "leave it to Beaver" home I love having fresh made bread piping hot w/butter and local honey waiting for him when we walk in. I stay home, I can do these things. Could I do it when I worked? maybe on the weekend, but then we were so busy trying to catch up from everything that didn't get done during the week that probably not. Are my kids getting all the education and brain boosting activities their growing minds can handle? No, I would never accomplish anything if I didn't park them in front of a movie for a little bit every day, some days admittedly longer than others. I'm trying to organize meals for mom's in need, does that make me super? no, I walk to my freezer pull something out and drive at the most 5 minutes to their house, the longest part of the venture being strapping my kids in their seats. I have 2 loads of laundry waiting to be folded on the bed, with one in the washer, another in the dryer and a good 2 more waiting their turn. Do I feel super for writing this blog instead? no, but I feel saner. Ultimately that's what my S stands for, I'll take "Saner Mom" any day.

pictures

I remember in my teen's going with some friends into an art gallery/store at the coast and being escorted out because I had verbalized the fact that I simply didn't get it. A stick figure in black, drawn on a white sheet 8.5 x 11 selling for $50. No, I still don't get it. I'm not saying I don't get art. I deeply love the spider people my daughter draws for me, all head with legs and arms. Or perusing my son's school work and finding chickens with turbo, rocket packs flying through outer space, being fired upon by missiles. That's the art I get. It comes from the mind and inspires thought.

As I finished locking up the girl's last night, Chloe and I settled in to a game of football when my large feathered friend flew onto the tree across the street. I could have, like my neighbors kept about my business, raking leaves, mowing grass, but that's not me. Dismissing the voice that say's your neighbor's are going think you're even crazier, I got my camera. Propping myself in ten different angles, trying to steady it on the fence and simply waiting. When I viewed the pictures later, I see an owl. But there's more. He's huge. He's waiting. He's alone. He's imposing. He's feared and he's watching, me. I look at a photograph and read a million things into it. Maybe it was my dad taking me to an Ansel Adam's exhibit when I was too young to supposed to care. Or the many wedding's I helped him shoot. I can't seem to wrap my post-kid brain around aperture or exposure so I'm a slave to pre-programed settings and perfect moments but that's OK. I'm learning to be patient and spontaneous at the same time. I'm looking at this world and actually seeing it. Maybe it was the conversation earlier with a friend, asking how I'm really doing. Not wanting to hear the standard fine, great, hangin' in there, but actually wondering about how. I'm. doing. that made me run for my camera. The answer takes some thought and when I said, I'm doing good. I meant it. When I saw my imposing friend perched atop his tree, I thought how I'm not alone. I'm not under someones thumb anymore, being ruled by fear, scurrying this way and that. I thought, you may be big but I can take ya', I've got three kids, the only people I fear are those with four.

Hubby made Gumbo last night, Seven Hills Riesling went nicely, enough acid to cut the thick soup and enough sweet to balance the heat.

Feelin' foggy.

Studies have shown that after child birth we suffer a certain amount of memory loss, lasting at least a year and it's unknown if it ever actually gets better. I'm confident after putting a teaspoon of salt in my coffee this morning that it does not. When I was working I would laugh the first time I would drive past an account, my mind elsewhere. After turning around and heading back I would then get a bit irritated upon passing it again and by the third time, well let's just say some people didn't get seen that day. We blame it on a few things, lack of sleep topping the list. As newborns of course they are up all night, then they start sleeping through and now we're up wondering if the second hand on the ticking clock is them crying from a night terror. If you're home with them you don't sleep when they do because when else would you shower/eat/pee/or do laundry so you're not wearing those same sweatpants you wore through out the entire last 4mo? If you're back to work you're thinking about whom ever is entrusted with their care, are they crying because you're gone? not eating? did they just fall/roll over/walk/recite the Declaration Proclamation with out us seeing it first???? Your mind is elsewhere.

I also think a lack of nutrition plays in here as well. I would spend my pregnancy eating 24/7 storing up reserves for the inevitable. Mom's don't get to eat. At least not for a while. I discovered anything I could microwave in 20 seconds and eat with one hand was my friend. With my third I actually managed to make all his baby food, which helped me not gag when swiping a bite to stave off my own hunger pangs. Now grazing on the spare nugget and last drops of chocolate milk somehow count as lunch. If I do manage to reheat some leftovers there is always someone who thinks if mom is eating it, it must be better than what I've got!!! Even if it's something no one came near the night before! I've dubbed this the mommy diet and now make a 6 egg omelet for myself even after they have loaded up on pancakes and bacon. I'll be lucky to get an egg with a strand of cheese.

I've become a maker of lists. Lists of things to do/buy/go/make/want/read/ask about/look up. Referring to these actual lists, is the number one priority on 'to do'. I still forget milk at the store, to make a vegetable with dinner, to turn on the dryer, to look up the address of our old pediatrician so the new one will see my kids and countless more. One thing I won't forget, is the subtle difference between the salt and sugar bowl.

Be kind cruel world...

When they handed that screaming, wrinkled, mis-shapen bundle over to me the first time, all I could think was how this was mine. Mine to grow, keep safe and mold into the future adult they would all eventually become. We think of it as a mother's job to raise the child, hopefully along with the father or at the very least an involved extended family. We fret over what they will eventually disclose to their therapist which we are convinced they will need. Blaming all their quirks, ticks and general malaise on how we didn't tuck them in one night or so and so got more marshmallows in their cocoa. I at least didn't think of all the other influences until there was school. I figured he would be learning the three R's, I wasn't planning on fixing all the other stuff he's learning. A big thanks to the teacher that sort of talked about stranger danger and the ensuing reprimands I received for talking to any one including the grocery clerk that I didn't technically know. Thanks again to the teacher that told him about 'bad' kids that are bully's and NOT to be friends with them, that's one way to stop them from being bully's for sure!!! And my biggest award to date is going to the teacher that told him never to give money to people on the street who ask for it, they can get a job they just don't want to. Seriously people, if my son wants to take what little money he has on his person and give it to Bill Gates because he thinks he's doing something good then for goodness sakes LET HIM! Don't teach him to assume he knows anything about anyone! Don't assume all strangers and bully's are bad people and don't assume Sally doesn't need your help because she's wearing a new outfit. Making assumptions is step one is stereotyping, a word I'm hoping will be relegated to dictionaries and not his active to do list. These are the conversations that come up while sitting down to a meal with my children, would they still come up if we were watching TV or playing video games? not likely.

mmmmmmmm, food.

First I have to give props to Creektown Cafe. Eric surprised me with date night so we went and had yet another truly amazing meal. I cant seem to say enough about how well thought out their menu is, combinations I would never dream up and yet work seamlessly. From our appetizer of squash panne cotta to my vegetarian entree of squash gnocchi (that we coined as little pillows of love) w/caramelized cauliflower, chantrelles and local aged goat cheese it was so incredibly rich and hearty even the most hardened meat eatter would be left satisfied.

Food has always played a huge role in my life. From when I decided to drop my Political Science major and get my Culinary Arts Degree. To meeting my then future husband in class. Food steered me into the wine industry, setting me on voyage I didn't foresee. The past few years real food had taken a back seat to child rearing and work. Dinner consisted of some KFC in the backseat while we sped to the latest sports practice. Weaning the kiddo's off the fast food and making them eat the real stuff has been less then easy. I often wonder if they would eat my meals better if I served them in a box and gave them a new toy. Instead I've opted for getting them involved. Starting with the garden where they sow, tend and harvest right along with me. Getting to explain to them why the eggs they are toting back to the fridge are warm from the hen, not ice box cold like they are used to. Showing them how to knead bread and putting toppings on their own pizza. The next task is explaining (and have them understand) why it's better for us to eat "Molly" (who is currently tucked in the freezer) then to eat the poor pseudo-free range one from the store that was only 8 weeks old and never actually exercised it's option to go outside to eat a blade of grass or run after a grasshopper. But those are ethic's issues not easily adopted by a 6 year old so we'll stick with she was a freeloader not laying well and not all that nice. Do we still eat McDonald's? Of course we do. I've got 3 kids, we would have a mutiny if we didn't, maybe that's their version of Creektown, we don't go all the time but when they do it's the most amazing experience they can imagine. Lately, I don't know if anything has made me happier than seeing pro-corn commercials airing, it means the word is getting out and maybe people will actually delve into the facts some more so they CAN know what the problem is. Read a label you'll understand why you can't eat it in moderation. That's all for my high horse on that subject. We also all eat dinner together at the dinner table. There are so many studies out showing how much better kids do in school when dinner is eaten as a family. TV off. Newspaper's put down. We talk, we plan, we share with each other. Not just on Sunday's but every night. Yes it's that important. Food will always bring people together, I'm hoping it will always keep mine that way.

I suppose now I'm supposed to write out my family spaghetti recipe, here's a guideline so to speak. Italian sausage both sweet and hot, lots of garlic, onions and mushrooms sauteed add tomato paste cook some more and de-glaze w/red wine, fresh oregano and thyme are added w/tomato juice, salt and pepper to taste, dash of sugar depending on acid in tomato's you're using. Don't salt till your done simmering or it will condense too much. Simmer preferable a really long time, always better the next day. finish w/fresh basil at service.

Happy Election Day, NOT.

On this ever festive election day I can't resist a post of political nature. Don't worry I'm not endorsing anyone. No really. I'm literally not endorsing anyone. I honestly couldn't give a flying pink elephant who we wake up to as President. It simply doesn't matter. Don't get me wrong, I did vote. But in the bigger picture it really matters not. I'm so excruciatingly happy that Ive come to this juncture in my life. This time last year I was a frantic/stressed/angry/bitter/pyscho-maniac and this whole election probably would've done me in. No matter who we wake up to tomorrow it will not effect me making my mom's spaghetti for dinner. The girls will lay no more or no less eggs. Chloe will not nip the kids any less hard and Elaina will still think the letter A stands for fish. Raise my taxes and we'll cut back a little more. again. Screw up our health care and we'll become even more locavore's, grasping all the health benefit's it bestows on us. Whatever, you're not really in charge any ways HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! The last appointment I had with my cardiologist, yes at 35 I had a stinkin' cardiologist, he told me "you need to just relax" which of course at the time seemed like the single most asinine thing to say. I have since found someone else that says the same thing, Matthew 11:28, added bonus he actually gives instructions on how to do it! So tonight we'll open a bottle of what I'm not sure, turn on the tube and watch the results start to flow in and then I'll make the kids popcorn and they'll go to bed w/a story, just like last night, just like tomorrow night and presumably every night to come.

A Little Clarity.

Usually that's something I actually crave. A specific answer amongst all the chaos. Shine that beam on me, let the clouds part and tell me what to do. We all want it, that is until it happens. Seriously. Yesterday I was asked to lead a small group discussion. No problem, I can talk all day. Uh Oh, the cheat sheet says I have to open w/a prayer. me. a prayer. OK, I am a christian, I know this shouldn't be hard. But it's always been something that was mine, not something I really put out there. I'm uncomfortable praying w/other people when THEY are doing the talking, I know get over it, but really its just not easy. So climb on that horse and say something! And this is where it all went wrong. You see I prayed for clarity. I don't recommend it. With a group of women, I prayed we would all have our hearts and minds opened to hear what it was that we were supposed to be doing, where we were going and the strength to carry it out. whoops. After we were home I had a few questions for our group leader so I emailed her and not one second after I hit the send button I knew I had another email for her. This one telling her I want her position that she will be vacating next year. NO I DON'T!!! I don't want it. I don't know how!!! I don't want to be in charge, I cant lead a group of mom's!!! Really???? Really God??? ugh. Needless to say I argued it in my head the best I could, before sitting down and just doing it. Let me say I laid out every disclaimer possible that if someone else was already up for it, or if she had someone in mind (other than me) then AWESOME, but I was being told to do something and so here I am, I'm now done w/my obligation, see if I lead a prayer ever again. I know, I know, it's all part of the journey, it's where I'm going, it's where I am, it's oddly where I want to be. Just be forewarned, be careful of what you ask for, you might just get it. No I haven't heard anything yet.