Happy Birthday Elaina!!!

The Next Level...

Or should I say, Kickin' it up a notch? My lovely daughter wanted a mermaid cake and by gum I was determined to make it!! Thank you Cooks Illustrated for the Chocolate Cake recipe and Alice Waters for the Chocolate Buttercream under it all, but a great big ol' pat on the back to me for making the fondant from scratch and putting the whole thing together!!! Admittedly, it ain't perfect but you know what? For a first attempt, not too shabby! We were on a fondant mission yesterday, searching every store in town, which adds up to about 4. Zero to be found, when Ethan sensing my frustration states, "You want to buy her something? You need to make it! Making something, means it comes from your heart, you don't want to give someone something that isn't from your heart, do you???" Aaahhh, the wisdom of a 7 year old. Maybe channeling my ocd on the cake will make up for the presents that I bought her and didn't whittle out of the tree in the back. I realize this is setting a new precedence for Birthday's around here, but I actually really enjoyed doing it so that's OK. Thank you Ethan for bring things back in perspective yet once again, we have 6 months to plan for yours big guy!

A Proactive Birthday Wish...

I know in the coming days I'm going to be overwhelmed with trying to organize her 5th birthday extravaganza (not) so I thought I would be proactive and give Elaina her birthday post a bit early. Five years old. School in two months. When we moved here last year she was going through a screaming phase. For no apparent reason, out or the blue or of course in response to any injustice, she would scream. And scream. And scream. Luckily, that was a year ago. Presently, she is getting in touch with her cave-girl ancestors and she is now a gatherer. Plastic grocery bags, re-usable grocery bags (maybe there wouldn't be plastic ones around if I could remember to put the re-usable ones she hoards in my car!) toy bins, suit cases, backpacks, old diaper bags, totes, anything that can presumable 'hold' another object is called to service. Dressers are emptied into toy bins, crayon boxes are transferred into beach bags, printer paper now resides in Tupperware, along with 3 potato bugs. Her most prized possession of all? The letter from her new Kindergarten teacher. Admittedly, when it came the other day to welcome her to her new school, my heart sunk. I couldn't help but remember the last time I had to let her go, her first day of daycare. They were each 12-14 weeks old when I had to leave them to someone else. It felt as though my soul was being ripped from my body and beat repeatedly against a brick wall. I put on the 'I'm fine' front, and sobbed uncontrolably in my car with them all. When we moved I vowed to never do that to them or me again. When the letter came, I cried. That's what I do. After having three kids, I'm an emotional wreck. I cry when I'm sad, mad, happy, excited, anxious, perplexed or bored. When we tore into the letter and started to read...Dear Kindergartner...she clasped her hands over her mouth and began to shriek, luckily, as I said, her hands were clasped over her mouth!! I continued with how excited all the teachers were to meet all the new students and all the things they will be learning in the coming year...I of course am completely choked up, trying not to let her see what a complete geek her mother is, when it happens... I see her brush at her cheek. Truly, my girl. She then states in complete bewilderment, that her eyes are watering and doesn't know why?! Oh sweet girl, I know why. Her first tears of excitement, the joy of a new adventure so overwhelming it's bursting from her eyeballs! I love you girl. I love seeing me in you, even if you grow to hate wearing your emotions on your sleeve, I won't. Your brother will be there to hold your hand, to wave across the playground and to tackle the first boy trying to steal a kiss. I will be there with a snack when you get home and eager ears to hear it all.

In the Summer time...

This whole summer vacation thing is not only a novelty to my kids but to me as well. I was a classic latch key kid, my sister and I wore our keys on a shoestring around our necks to let ourselves in after school. Vacation meant curtains stayed closed and no one went out front. We watched The Price is Right and Perry Mason while playing marathon Monopoly tournaments. Interspersed was the random beating of each other and a few 'harmless' prank phone calls. Luckily, most of our friends were also home alone so the braver of the bunch would leave their domains and hole up in ours until the threat of parents arriving became too much and we all began cleaning up and starting dinner. All this in elementary school. Granted I was in year round school, our longest school break was about 6 weeks and it was in December, otherwise we had 2 weeks off here and there, I thought it was great until I went to high school and it was a 'normal' school year. Teenagers should never have 3 months off with no parental supervision, enough said.

So it begins, going from the minute by minute schedule of a classroom to fly by the seat of our pants daily life. Ethan wants every moment occupied by a friend or activity. Elaina and Elijah are used to the random play dates, store runs and house cleaning frenzy. Ethan is not. Elaina and Elijah occupy themselves if I am doing laundry or fixing a meal. Ethan does not. Elaina and Elijah know that if they have one play date they probably aren't going to see another friend that day. Ethan is used to seeing all his friends, every day, all day long. Not going to happen. If I hear 'now what?', 'what will we do after that?', or 'when are we going to?' one more time I'm putting them on Free-Cycle. Two more months, I know it goes quickly. Family vacations sprinkled randomly over the weeks will keep them hopping. Sending them both off to school will be here before I know it. Back to school shopping already front and center on my brain. Elijah sending them on their way with me, anticipating the trauma of seeing his siblings off for the day. And at the same time, MOPS starting up for the year, still not sure about my sanity there but it's out of my hands. We will garden, we will play with the new chicks (coming in 2 weeks) and we will hang. Most of all, I will soak up the time I have with them that they still want to be with me.

Worry Warts

"You worry about you, don't worry about others."
And that's when my mommy radar went on high alert.
"You take care of yourself, it's not up to you to worry about me."
OK, enough.
Um, what's going on here? and why are we being so self-centered?
Here it comes...
"Well, xxxxx (name withheld to keep eye rolling and tire slashing to a minimum) said that we should only worry about ourselves. It's up to each person to take care of themselves, not each other."
Ugh.
Alright, I understand the context I'm sure the statement was used. Tattling was probably the center of the discussion and yes I'm sure it seemed a vague, open-ended statement about taking care of number one seemed suffice. Unfortunately, many kids, my kids, are literal. Opportunities to worry about others create growth.
We're not supposed to talk about the little girl who takes the bus after school back to the Y.
How much more understanding would the kids have about homelessness if they knew it directly effected one of their friends? We're not supposed to talk about the anger issues of the little boy who got kicked out of class. Shouldn't environmental and psychological problems be out in the open? Life is not puppy dogs and butterflies, sometimes things suck. Sometimes these things are brought on by us and sometimes they are not!!! They need to know that! They need to know that the world doesn't revolve around them. They need to know that even if their friend is in trouble, albeit by their own hand or not, they should be there to help. They need to accept their friends for who they are, not who they think they are. They need to not be ashamed of their circumstances, where they live, who they live with, what medication they take to get through the day.
We need to worry about each other.
We need to help where we can, because we can.
The more we learn about each other the more compassion we have. How many light bulbs have dinged on when I've learned more about a friends past and tied it in with things I had previously deemed irrational in the present. Maybe it's the ol' knowledge is power line and not making assumptions. If I only worry about me then I'm going to be making assumptions about you. Yes, tattling is annoying. But it's talking, it's communication, not good communication per se, but communication none the less. If they are chronic about it then maybe we need to figure out why they are trying to bolster themselves up and tear others down, talk about it. Communicate. Worry on little ones, we'll talk about all the implications whenever you want.

ache.

To kick off summer vacation my oldest has gone to see his grandparents, which should be cause for celebration! I only have two to watch AND my mom is here to hang out!! But it's not. The house seems wrong. If Ethan is not here, then he is in school, this in not the case. He's...away. Away from the house, his siblings and me. I know, I know, cry me a river, but honestly. The whole feel of home is wrong. Home is whining. Home is needy. Home is lap sitting, neck nuzzling, hand holding, big green eyes waiting on my every word. Home is them. Currently, home is two when it should be three. I yearn and crave every moment to myself...with them occupied, in the other room. I scream, yell, rant and rave for them to go, about 20 feet away...no farther. I want to see them at will, touch them spontaneously. Being out of control of his bedtime or nutritional needs is almost too much. No one but a mom can understand, I know. Is this insane? Yes. Is it unexpected? No. My boys come back tomorrow. I wish they would show up tonight. Waking up to the tossing, turning, snoring of my love. Smelling the ever-so-close-to-a-tween, freshly shorn head of my boy after he brings me coffee in bed. Men. Gotta love 'em, and I do.

A case for circular houses.

Luckily, we didn't need a stitch. Nothing a little glue and packaging tape apparently can't fix. Next time one of them runs into the corner of a wall, I'm taking them straight to Home Depot. By next time, that really only leaves 1. Elaina turned to sprint down my parents hall over the summer last year and ran smack into the corner there. DING! and down she went. Three stitches. Elijah comes running in from outside and DING! Same spot as Elaina, they really are twins. The funniest thing though was that Ethan was right behind him and when he saw blood, he took OFF!!! White as a ghost. Once I got Elijah calmed and settled I actually had to go on an Ethan hunt to see if HE was passed out somewhere! And honestly, there wasn't that much blood! Eric is pretty much screwed if there is a hunting/camping accident and Ethan's his backup! Dial 911 Eth. Eth? Eth?!? Cross doctor off future job possibilities, we're back to actor/president. Oddly Elaina was asleep. They wanted to 'camp out' last night so we set up a tent in the backyard which they played in all day. The time came and they all went to bed, cozy in their sleeping bags. We sat on the patio, drank some Rose and listened to Ethan telling them a story. Waiting for the escalating protests to going to sleep in the not so great outdoors. Then, silence. We waited a bit longer. I retired to bed to read and still no one came in. It was now 10pm and fully dark. Still they slept on, alone outside. I woke at 11 and then at 12:30. I recall 2 and of course 4, still no screams of terror. 6:10am brought the thundering sounds of 6 feet on the stairs, they were all alive and at that point still well. They survived their first night outside alone in a tent. They can't sleep all together in their bedroom with out a night light on but give 'em a tent in the dark and they're all good. Hence, Elaina fell asleep at 9am. When did we get to this point? Wanting to pull away so badly, yet burying their heads in my shoulder to shield out the eyes of the world. Torn between independence and comfort at 3 and 5 and 7. When do they finally choose independence? 10? 20? My arms will always be long enough to wrap around them, to hold their hands while a doctor glue sticks them back together. If they get out the duck tape and staples though we're moving to Canada.

Growth

I've started going to a bible study. So if this is taboo ground to you then be forewarned there is talk of faith, trust and general "God" things and you're free to move on to the next blog if you choose. Faith and trust seem to go hand in hand but as I've come to realize, that is not necessarily true. I say I have faith, which I do. I say I trust in God, but I've learned I have to add the disclaimer of "most of the time". There are just those things, for me, the ONE thing, that I just can't seem to turn over to Him. I carry it around, I fret, I fuss, I make up a million what-if's, I obsess over the bad, I imagine every hypothetical scene that would justify the ramblings of my crazed mind. I take the smallest hint of an issue and I run with it, you don't want to know what I do with the big hints. Let's just say it's ugly. In not giving it over, in not being able to trust that it will be OK, not that it will be perfect or that the situation will turn out how I want, but that no matter what, in the end I will be OK. My worst fears may actually come true, my worst fears could manifest and my world so to speak may implode, giving it over means that I will still wake up and put one foot in front of the other. I see the goal, I'm not there yet. Do I sabotage this thing? You bet, not conscientiously of course but I feel I'm protecting myself from what I already know as true. Like the mother who's worst fear is to lose a child, she won't let them on a slide or will rush them to the emergency room when they complain of a stomach ache. Watching for signs of impending destruction. What I'm trying to figure out now is how. How do I get the evil voice out of my head? How do I cover the hole in my shield of faith created by this thing? I pray and I read. Not Steinbeck but the actual Bible. Pick it up and see what it has to say. To say it is timeless is a vast understatement. The answer to literally every question you have is in there. The answer to every fear, frustration, doubt and anxiety is in there. Reading is one thing, trusting is another. The more I read, the more I trust, the more I trust, the more I read. My hole is getting smaller, the spears of the enemy soon won't have an in. I own my fears and what I do to perpetuate them, that's putting one foot down, handing it over completely is putting down the other.

Mother's Day...

My day. Can't say I got to sleep in, but I did get to play "hot/cold" for my present from Ethan. He made me a book, one of many created in his class. It was filled with "I love it whens.." tailored to of course me. The ones that stood out were, "I love my mom because she taught me how to garden" " I know my mom cares because she asks how is school" and my personal favorite "I love to hear my mom sing I am in a war" granted, I'm sure his teacher is wondering about his war monger mother, but I knew exactly which song he was talking about.

Counting On God by Desperation Band

I'm in a fight not physical
And I'm in a war But not with this world
You are the light that's beautiful
And I want more, I want all that's Yours

Joy unspeakable that won't go away
And just enough strength To live for today
So I never have to worry What tomorrow will bring
'Cause my faith is on solid rock
I am counting on God

I am counting on
I am counting on God

The miracle of Christ in me
Is the mystery that sets me free
I'm nothing like I used to be
Open up your eyes you'll see

Ah, my boy. He knows how to get right to my heart without even knowing. The topper of course was going to church later and having them sing that exact song. My strength to live for today renewed, yet again. Thank you Eth. My husband came through too of course, getting me a gift certificate to my favorite kitchen shop, which one day later is no more. A ravioli cutter to cut my roasted beet ravioli with bacon and spinach filling that I made today. A cookie press to make a treat for bible study tonight and a cast iron ebelskiver pan, which I'm sure will be my nemesis. I love you guys for letting me be me and letting that be OK.

Anonymity

There's something to be said for it. We went wine tasting yesterday, which in itself was great. We've only gone once in the past year and admittedly I miss it. Wine fascinates me as a living, evolving, entity. Tasting it in barrel and trying to predict what shape it will take 6m or a year from now at bottling and how that will change five, ten or 20 years down the line. And being the consumate shopper, trying to weed out all the best deals, getting off the beaten path to the current unknowns, finding the next set of "we bought them whens..." Going out on any sort of "Release Weekend" always brings out the know it alls and drunkards and honestly I can understand the cheesy one liners spewing forth by some of the pourers, I've been there, I've said them. Going tasting as one "in the business" granted had it's bonus', free tastings, free lunches, free accommodations. But it also comes with expectations. I like going as a local, stay at home mom. Possibly looking for something for our next BBQ. Granted, spitting probably did stand out as knowing a little more than we were letting on. My dear husband was kind enough to bring to my attention that one wine maker looked a bit miffed that I did spit, but that's neither here nor there. Being free to love the lowest level Cabernet because the reserve although better was not $20 better, walking out after tasting 2 really bad wines and not having to stay for the entire line up just because. We had a great day and learned a few things along the way. If I can get a really great German Riesling for under $15 and an exceptional one for $30, why would I pay $20 for yours? They weren't even close. If you're trying to make a new name for Rose' why are you making yours with 2% rs, no matter how you want to market it, this is not a "drier style." Even if you want exclusivity by offering things to wine club members only, you are shunning the locals that can and will pop on over for a bottle with dinner, because we can!!! I don't want 3 or 6 of your choosing, I want this one.today. That being said, we truly did find some gems at great prices, that I'm sure next year will fall out of our means. No shameless plugs here, I want them to stay within our budget as long as they can. I will of course be sending any family and friends their way to get the same honest, unpretentious, personal service we received yesterday. Thank you to all the owner/wine-makers whose passion for what they do shows through loud and clear and they aren't just out to be the next "auction house only" or "stack 'em high and let 'em fly." You will be seeing us again.

Alien Abductions.

This is pretty hard for me to admit. I like to think that I'm normally a pretty level headed person. The subject of aliens coming to harvest humans for research has always seemed shall we say a bit 'out there' to say the least. But unfortunately, I've come to experience it first hand.
Today as I came in from the garden to wash up, it happened. I walked into the empty bathroom to find the toilet seat up, yellow water and a pile of Elaina's clothes on the floor. No Elaina to be seen. They had taken her. Obviously, she was quietly going potty when the abduction occurred. The clothes I've come to realize, can not be teleported. I found her moments later in her bedroom getting new clothes on, blissfully unaware of the horrors that had just befallen her. Oh, my precious, precious girl how many more times will they perform their tests on you??? Elaina is not the only one in my family that the extraterrestrials are after. I often come into our living room to find my husbands clothes laying right by the door. He's not home for 2 minutes, barely able to drag his tired legs up the stairs and into the house before ZAAAPPP!!! In to thin air. Only his work clothes remain. Sure, they always bring them back. So far. My dear husband usually emerges from the backyard, where he apparently thinks he was just checking on the girls, but I know the truth. Ethan has spent his fair share of time hovering high over head too, while cultures of unknown origin are taken. How many bags of chips and favorite toys have I found scattered across the floor? The snack I know he so desperately wanted. He had pleaded with tears in his eyes for a little something while I'm preparing dinner, only to find it open, chips all over the couch and floor. The project he was coloring still spread out on the table. And my boy? Gone. My heart aches as I search. He too happily going about his 'new' business at the aliens chosen re-materialization site. But what makes me truly mad, is that they even have taken my baby. I would like to think there would be some sort of minimum age requirement, but no. To make it worse, they seem to actually prefer Elijah. Little piles of clothes are found through out the day. Some times, while he is innocently watching TV. They take him from the bathroom, much like Elaina, but their favorite spot is the stairs. As the kids bound joyfully in from playing outside, ZAAAP! Shoes will be at the bottom, pants in the middle and the shirt on the top landing, what once clothed a happy child now lays cold and lifeless, waiting. Being that they obviously use some sort of mind eraser or time hold-stiller, it has occurred to me that I too could be the subject of their research, but not likely. I have yet to come across my own tell tale pile of clothing, unless they only take me from my bedroom. Albeit a possibility, not a likely one. I have enough quirks and compulsions. I certainly don't need to add another. Beware aliens, I'm on to you now, I will catch you and when I do...

What it's about.

The kids. OK, this is the world's shortest post. Done. Alright, alright I'll elaborate. When I started this I didn't really know why I was doing it. I honestly never read a blog and barely knew what the term meant. There wasn't a list of them I was aspiring to be, I simply knew I was supposed to write one and so I did. It started as a way to work through the voice that keeps popping up in my head, hoping that maybe the kids would grasp some glimmer of what mommy was thinking at any given time. Maybe reading my version of what happened, teamed up with their memory of it and ending up, well, I'm not sure what. Maybe they will discover mom's pizza crust recipe, or the secret to great Coq au Vin is using your own Coq (sorry Crowey, but man you were tasty.) I hope they'll understand that I would cook all day to fill the freezer so I didn't have to cook every day and could spend more time with them, sane. I hope they come to appreciate spicy food because my chili is competition ready, sorry shameless plug. I hope they can see that I struggle with what the voice is telling me but I still listen to Him. I want them to listen to Him too, since they sure don't listen to me. I don't want them to be the angry, glaring, tween's that their parents have to drag to church in their sleep pants and fuzzy slippers. Contempt for the passive/aggressive parents aside for letting their tween's show up that way. I want them to find joy in the first radish shoot popping up and continue to fight for the warm eggs under a broody hen. Like any parent, I just want to keep them wrapped in a cocoon of comfort, love and innocence. So spilling my tale here for them to read one day serves to keep me honest, keep me in check with my priorities and it has served a great creative outlet for a newbie stay at home mom. Ultimately, it's all about them.

A Belated Birthday Wish...

My baby is 3. My baby is no longer, well, a baby.
He is potty trained.
He knows his ABC's.
He yells at me for starting the car before putting on my seat belt and he knows God made the mountains.
He can't wear pants, shoes or socks inside.
He can't imagine leaving the library with a book not containing a monster truck and his favorite Hot Wheels car is named Sally.
Dogs are for riding, chickens are for chasing and siblings are for giggling.
He can still be convinced to do anything Elaina bids, her esteem only equaled by my own.
Bubbles=Bliss.
Default speed is a jog and he can hold his own on his scooter. When grandparents visit, he still wants to sit next to me. He's even tempered, not emotion driven, injustices are simply that.
Bottom's and the noises they possess are hilarious.
Deception isn't on his radar, yet.
The sun, moon and stars reside in his sister.
Even when he "can't stand up!" I want to scoop him in my arms and smother him in mommy kisses.
He loves me more than "sparkly pink unicorns."
Happy Birthday Boo-Boo.

Gut Check...

The topic that's been tossing around in my brain lately (by lately I mean the last couple months) the topic I'm trying to decide how to broach with out sounding like too much of a lunatic is finally coming to fruition. Then of course I realized this post couldn't possibly make me sound any less sane so just go with my gut. AAAHHHH, there it is, my gut. The subject du jour. Mother's intuition, that sixth sense, knowing the peas are in the napkin before you unfold it. Knowing they don't really have to go to the bathroom REALLY, REALLY, BAD RIGHT NOW, during dinner only to dispose of the uneaten miscellaneous vegetable. Knowing that silence is not by any stretch of the imagination "golden". Keeping Ethan home from school just because, to have him throwing up by noon. How many things have we done with out knowing what the consequences would have been other wise? Turning down a different road on our walk or going to the park across town because I felt like we should. So who cares? We all have it, that voice of ours that keeps us in check. Interesting, do I really think I'm that smart? Do I really think that I can predict/anticipate random acts in the future. I don't know what's for dinner tomorrow! Yet, for years I've been giving myself a whole lot of pats on the back while at the same time wondering where God has been all those years. Why is He just starting to speak up now? Why did he let me wing it out there all alone for so long? The pull that I had to have a third child, the surprise of getting one and the peace of not remotely wanting another. I credit God with getting around the birth control, why don't I credit him for the desire for more or the feeling that our family is now whole? I guess finally listening to Him has made me realize He has been talking to me all along. Every day my gut tells me something to do or not. To be suspect about and to be at complete ease with. Every day I struggle saying "I knew it! I just knew it wasn't right/wrong/there/going to happen/going to show up/going to work/not going to work...etc" Feeling the pride of my vast knowledge of all things parental filling me. Did I mention I don't know what's for dinner tomorrow? Now I struggle to stop. Breathe. And simply say, Thank You. Thank you for the insight, thank you for the warning, thank you for the need and thank you for the peace. He's there talking all the time, unfortunately so am I (and the kids for that matter!) taking the time to listen and actually hear, to feel that it's right because He says so not because I did. How good it feels to take yet another thing off my plate. It leaves me room for tomorrow's lasagna.

The Emperor's New Clothes

You remember the story, the emperor gets convinced that his new invisible clothing is the latest in high fashion and goes parading around naked. It struck me this morning that I'm doing the same thing. No I'm not doing housework in the buff, much to my husbands dismay.
I climb out of the shower and commence the process of "getting ready" for what I'm not sure, but trust me I'm ready for it. Step one, put on moisturizer. I'm a (cough, cough,) thirty-something woman so this is a crucial step. What's the most important thing about a good moisturizer? To feel like nothing. Slather it on, pay through the teeth, so ultimately I and certainly no one else knows it exists. Step two, foundation or my new best friend "invisible foundation". Oh yes, you can call it a primer or what not, wear alone or underneath a step 3. Use what ever terminology you want, it's invisible makeup and I bought it. Step 3, translucent powder. This would be basically clear powder with no discernible color to "set" the invisible foundation. Step 4, clear gloss because my lips are always this moist and supple on their own. Add a little blush (not invisible by definition) mascara (which you CAN buy invisible, I have not jumped off that cliff yet) and I'm pretty much through. Fifteen minutes of my life, spent doing stuff to myself to try to make myself look like I didn't spend fifteen minutes of my life, doing anything to myself!!! My point. Nothing really. I'm not about to change the process, I'm actually pretty happy with the results in a this ranks up there with the dumbest things I've pondered in a long time sort of way. What do I want my kids to learn from reading this in the future? Probably that we all do things that don't make a lot of sense. We need to think about the things we do and make a decision to continue or not. I've thought about it and I've decided to continue because as ridiculous as the process seems it effects no one but me. There are few things in life that fall under that umbrella, treasure the ones that do.

It's about time

In a fleeting moment of desire for convenience, I picked up a box of microwave popcorn at the store last week. Yes, I know, it's a direct slap in the face of all that I've been spouting this past year. But honestly, the supreme ease of quelling Ethan's cries for a before bed snack with a flick of my wrist and a go grab a bag out of the pantry suddenly over came me and the purchase was made. Sinking into the couch with the book I've been trying to start/finish for 2 weeks and Ethan's plea begins. But oh yes, I have a trick up my sleeve. Boy! I mean Eth! Get a bag out of the pantry and pop that puppy in the microwave! You my son are golden in 2.5 minutes. And that's when it starts...But mom, I don't want that one! Let's make it ourselves, it's soooooooo much better, I don't care if it takes longer. And there you have it. Out of the mouths of babes, err well, 1st graders. I've tried instilling this past year, that faster isn't always better, weaning off McDonald's and KFC. Baking bread every.single.week. Growing a monster garden that this year threatens to take over the neighborhood. Hunting down an air-popper! It all worked. yay me... So why does the siren call of convenience still get it's moment of glory? I think the one thing I haven't been able to wrap my brain around is time. When I was working (I'm so tired of starting sentences with that, I now vow to never use it again) the entire day was laid out in time slots. Every second was a valuable commodity to be doled out frugally. If I do this, then I can't do that. Kids, as every parent knows, don't grasp the concept of time. So it takes us 8 more minutes to make regular popcorn, they go to bed 8 minutes later, and????? Somehow this seems like such a huge deal, some nights more than others. What parent hasn't screamed uncontrollably at their toddler literally stopping to smell the roses when we want them to keep walking to the store/school/car/church? When honestly we would be what? 5 minutes late? 10? Would Ethan crumble to a sobbing mass on the sidewalk in front of his classroom door if we weren't waiting there 15 minutes prior to last bell? No, he would either walk himself home and see us jumping in puddles, or wait on the playground with a plethora of his friends, ultimately he would be fine. I'm the one that ends up in the angry, slobbering, bald, mass! The perception of time as a commodity, something to be hoarded like a clock watching Scrooge gets ingrained young. When do they pick up on it? I'm actually moving on to my second hand the number of times my kids have calmed my nerves with their simple reasoning. It's OK mom, we can walk. It's OK mom, it just takes a second. I thought I was supposed to teach them everything.

Too Yoooouuu...

You would think (or should I say I would think) I would be getting wiser with age. Isn't that how the phrase goes? How many times growing up did my parents repeat that to me, "when you're my age...", "xyz is something you learn with age." Well guess what? I'm now officially your age when you said those things and I'm not sure I know anything yet. AND to top it off, I think I've spent the past year RETHINKING all the stuff I thought I DID know!!! Which of course has led me to this topic and the overwhelming realization that I don't know squat. Luckily by the grace of God my kids won't be reading this till they are much older, this is not information I wish to bestow upon them now!!!

"Kids it's time I told you something, all those times I said you'll understand when you become a parent. I was wrong. I don't understand. I pretty much question everything anymore, your mommy is not so smart."

The kicking off of my official "mommies don't actually get smarter as they get older" pitch actually took place last night. I had planned a mom's night out with some girlfriends, let's hangout, drink some wine and gab after the kiddos have all passed out. Clue number 1 something is up; going out with girlfriends on the night before my birthday. Did I have any inkling they cared? Nope. Clue number 2; having host girlfriend's little boy (on his way to bed) talking about how he wants cake too. Any idea cake would be for me? Nope. Clue number 3; Girlfriend frantically trying to keep me out of kitchen shielding said cake, hunched over writing something. Any idea cake being hidden and friend is trying to sign card 3 feet away from me? Nope. Admittedly by clue number 4, people showing up saying the actual words Happy Birthday and handing me cards I started to finally piece things together. I love them. Hopefully through my complete oblivion they still love me too.

So now I'm left to wonder what other functions will be waining in the coming months/years. I was kind of hoping the mind would be the last to go, this does not bode well for the future. Then again, as long as I'm surrounding myself with friends that are thinking about me even when I am not, I think the future is place I might want to see. I may be older, I know I'm not wiser but I do know I'm cared about. Thanks guys.

Perspective

I like to get a little sometimes, perspective that is, and my kids seem to offer it up in droves. The other night as I was putting dinner on the table, it was your typical week day night. Eric working late, Ethan trying to set the table with Elaina's protests in full swing as to where he was now sitting her. Elijah was trying to grab at whatever food was prematurely placed while Ethan swatted him away. The noise was not steadily increasing, it was already as increased as it could get. When of course the phone rings. Being the lover of caller ID, I see that it is my soon to be pediatrician, yes, it's taken me a year to get around to transferring our files and I was not about to miss this call!!! I answer it as I'm walking into my bedroom, closing the door to some what muffle the screams, screeches and general forelorn cries of dinner time injustice continuing in the dining room. In between listening to my new receptionist/nurse I can hear it continue to escalate and then...stop.

"OOOOOOHHHHH, the Lord is good to meeeeeeee. And so I thank the Looooooord!!! For giving me, the things I need, the sun and the rain and the apple seed the Lord is good to me.Amen."

"G'me THAT!"

"No!!!!"

"Ethaaaaaaaan!!!!"

"I want it"

"STOP IT!!!!"

Yes, the screaming ensued.
They can't sit at the same seat two nights in a row to help quell the majority of the problems. Fiesta Ware be damned, since now they argue over who gets what color and of course they all want to eat at once and will beat each other to death in the process, but before that process can begin... You must say grace.

Pondering...

I guess that's the sign of a good book, it makes you think. Whether fiction or non, it puts you in the story. I don't feel like doing an unsolicited book report here but I thought I would just write down a couple things that are really staying with me.

This is the true joy of life; the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one, being a force of Nature rather than a feverish selfish little cloud of ailments complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy... George Bernard Shaw

Wow.

I read that tonight and wanted to make an iron-on transfer for every shirt I own. How joyful would you be to know that your very purpose is important and here's the clincher... YOU KNOW IT!?!?! You have a passion for this endeavour that makes you akin to a force of nature. Forces of nature are tornado's, hurricanes!!! I want to be a hurricane for my cause, don't you? Don't sit around sniveling for the world to fix itself, fix it!!! I love it.

I have a desk calender that I put my "schedule" on. I have it planned out all the way to December 31st. First day's of school in fall, 1/2 days, teacher planning days, play dates, potential playdates/outings are now popping up. I fill it up with confidence that I will be here to see those days, I have no reason to think I won't and am not trying to be morbid by any means. But what if I'm not. You never schedule in "find lump" or "get in car accident". Yes, I'm reading about living your life with no regrets and basically wondering if I have any.

I took Ethan to school the other day, hugged him (which I don't always do), told him I loved him (which I do always do) and watched him walk into school. Usually, I turn immediately and head back home but this time I just watched. I said a prayer that at 3 o'clock I would see him in reverse, turned toward me, walking into my smile instead of away from it. We simply don't know what each moment will bring. I'm not about to be the fretting over-protective mom that won't let them out the door for fear of an impending rogue comet. I am, going to make sure that the last words they here from me is I love you. I am, going to make sure we go to bed at night without any regrets, I should've, why didn't I, if only... When I lay down at night, I want to simply sleep.

So, what is my tsunami? I have a few actually but the most prevalent is my kids. Have they always been? Admittedly, no. I have tried working harder, being out later, dropping them off earlier because it's not easy to be an attentive parent. It IS easy to say "yes I'll play that game with you after dinner" knowing full well you won't. Or, "yes, I'll color with you after this chapter or when I'm done surfing meaningless fluff on the Internet" again knowing they will otherwise occupy themselves until "Oh look at the time, get ready for bed!!!" A wake up call every now and again that this isn't about me is always nice. Do I have regrets about our past? Not really necessary I suppose, because I'm simply trying to move forward. They are most definitely forces of nature in their own right, I want to be one too.

To my non-foodie friends...

Alright, I can take some flack for talking down to the masses for my interpretation of a simple meal and for that you now get a crash course in my pantry staples!!! You'll never do that again will ya!!! HA!

First off...you need to make as much of everything as possible and oddly you probably have most the ingredients to do that!!!
Bread= flour, water, yeast, sugar/honey, salt, maybe milk and maybe some oil (butter/shortening or oil). These will make in some combination, rarely all ingredients needed; bread (sandwich and french), pancakes, waffles, biscuits, buns (hamburger or hot dog depending on shape) and the all important pizza dough.
pantry should have multiple shapes pasta and types rice/starch (couscous, quinoa; it's a really good grain, not chicken food ;) )
multiple types beans, dried AND canned.
all forms canned tomatoes.
emergency cream of mushroom soup for when you forget to get mushrooms at the store or use the last in that fritata that the kids refused to eat.
Other baking items would be all kinds sugars, powdered, granulated, light and brown but also raw for sprinkling on muffins or scones, it's the little things don't you know!!!
Packaged chicken and beef stock in case your freezer has run low on home-made.

Acid!!!
lemons, limes, oranges are staples. As is wine, red and white. Less frequently used but just as important liquor!!! Grand Marnier, yum! Vermouth is not only for martinis, dry is great in marinades use the same amount you would with your favorite cocktail!!! A light hand! Pernod is an anise (licorice) flavored liquor and again a little is enough to deglaze (get the chunks off the bottom) of your pan and make your guests wonder where you got the recipe! Also great on a hot day with some club soda, but I digress. Bourbon makes a great sauce, again a light hand is key, the little airline bottle is more than enough! Any leftovers with some sweet vermouth and a cherry is a bonus!

Keep veggies simple, toss with olive oil, salt and roast to carmelly goodness!!

Meat, get the best you can afford and prepare it simply. Good components don't need to be fussed over, that's the beauty of it! A little salt and pepper or your favorite rub and bake or grill, done!

Cooking seems like such a daunting task, something most say they've never been able to do, they can't get the combinations right etc... But if you use good stuff, you don't have to DO anything to it!!! Grill the meat, bake the potato, roast or grill the veg, simple, good, easy.

For the record the kids had McDonald's tonight and we had frozen leftovers from last week. It's always about balance, not obsession.