Monday, December 13, 2010

Snow Day? Please?

I heard "chance of snow" on the weather report this evening and felt an old familiar hope: SNOW DAY!

I know there won't be enough snow for a snow day tomorrow (but there's a slight chance later this week! pretty please?) I also know what a pain shoveling is (see the picture from the last post.)  Still, I like the sound of a snow day.

Reading together as a family, hot chocolate, board games, movie time, singing together, sledding, looking for animal tracks, baking, science experiments, craft projects,  ...

Come to think of it, one snow day won't be enough. Good thing we have a winter break coming soon. 7 more days of school, kids!

In the midst of all our Christmas planning and doing and rushing, what I want most of all is the time to sit and enjoy the season with my family. White Christmas doesn't mean much for me - we're already going to stay home that day anyway. I want the middle of a busy week day that stops us in our tracks.

And Stan, if you're reading this, I promise I'll make it up to you should my wish come true. I'll shovel and sled while you sit under a blanket with your hands around some spicy hot cocoa. Then, come summer heat, I'll stop complaining and enjoy the free time.

As for the rest of you - what are your favorite snowy day activities?

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Helping Hands

"We all know well that we can do things for others and in the process, crush them, making them feel that they are incapable of doing things by themselves. To love someone is to reveal to them their capacities for life, the light that is shining in them." - Jean Vanier

Peanut is having a hard year at school. She's in a challenging program and for the first time in her life, she can't do everything on the first try. She's not the best in her class. She has to think deeper than before to find the why & the how behind the answers. Homework, which used to be a blur of quick mastery, has become a battle. When faced with work that requires more than pat answers, Peanut whines and cries and begs for help. It's easy to see that helping her - by which Peanut means tell her exactly how to arrive at the answer - crushes her ability to master the material. Loving Peanut means helping her see that she is capable.

In other areas of life, however, those lines aren't as clear. I'm a willing musician and I take joy from playing, especially in our church services. But if I step in to play guitar at every gap in the schedule, am I undermining someone else's chance to join in? I appreciate hearing another person's perspective because it helps me see the larger scope of  an issue. However, if I listen to a person's gripes, am I cutting off his motivation to do something about the problem? When I see someone hurting I long to draw that person in and hold her in a warm embrace; I want her to feel safe and accepted. But if I stand by someone in crisis without calling him to take action, am I reinforcing his belief that he is powerless?

I'm striving to value the person underneath the stress rather than how I feel when I'm helpful. I'm struggling with the guilt and helplessness I feel when I don't step in to resolve a problem presented to me. Little by little, I'm learning to love others in a way that reveals the light shining within.

To find out more about Jean Vanier check out his entry on Wikipedia. His words are even more powerful in the fuller context of his life. This quote - and most others from my blog - came from a daily email sent out by Sojourners.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

More with Less

Sometimes, less works better.

The girls and I put up the tree this past weekend. It was shiny, we were proud. Monday, when the older two got home from school, I plugged in the tree and settled in for some sparkly relaxation. I left the room for a moment and came back to find a dark tree. Somewhere, in the long series of light strings, a fuse had blown. In my heart of hearts I knew it was a very minor deal but closer to the surface I felt the intense panic of crisis mode. Christmas was ruined and we were still 20 days away!

I asked Stan to check out the situation since he's good with electricity and I'm scared of setting the house on fire. (Of course, when it comes to candles our roles are reversed. It's good to divide the fear.) Stan sighed, and said he would add my request to his (very long) list of to-dos. I sighed and set about learning to love my dark, not-twinkling tree.

A few days later I found lights - the colored ones Monkey & Peanut REALLY wanted this year - at a good price so I picked them up. Once upon a time I was a strong, independent woman so I can handle some tree lights, right? Stan solves his problems his way, I usually find alternate routes and skirt around them. Either way, that tree was going to glitter once more.

First step: Get the dead lights off the fully decorated tree. Even with Puddin' "helping," we managed to accomplish this without breaking anything. Second step: Check the dead lights. Turns out, only one strand had blown. Woohoo! Third step: Decide between old white lights that might fail again or new colored lights that would bring delight to two small darlings. The price on the new lights was good but not quite up to bargain standards so I went for the cheap. Fourth step: Restring lights, maneuvering around ornaments, and get all the way to the top using fewer strands.

Maybe it was the lack of bickering in the air, or maybe the Spirit-of-Christmas-Thrift helped me along: regardless, our tree is shiny again. The lights are evenly spaced and go all the way to the top. I even had an extra strand leftover (in addition to the busted one.) More than that, my ego is feeling a little more sparkly. Maybe I'm ready to tackle that broken light fixture. All else fails, I'll get to teach Puddin' to use a fire extinguisher.

Peace, Joy & Panties

I've worked hard to come to terms with the fact that I can't have everything I want. I sometimes feel disappointed and sometimes angry but most of the time I manage to put on my big-girl panties and act like a grown-up. My kids have trouble embracing the big-girl panties but since they are children, this is to be expected. Stan and I lead them toward good character development every chance we get and slowly we're seeing progress. We have hopes that by the time we send them out into the world as legal adults they'll actually know how to behave accordingly.

Unfortunately, there are far too many people in the world around me who are not wearing their big-girl panties or big-boy briefs. Here's my message to the grumpy, huffy scrooge behind me at the grocery store. If you step out of line at the grocery store - even to pick up a rose for your honey - you should not expect the 5 people in line at the only open register to wait for you. You're lucky that the guy you cut in front of (trying to get back to your spot) didn't wallop you. Yes I have a lot of stuff. Yes I have coupons. This is my only toddler-free moment all day so I'm not going to speed things up for you. The cashier, bless his heart, looks totally beat at the end of a long day; I don't think he wants to rush either. Maybe if you were nicer, the cashier would have cared that you saved your spot with a box of croissants, but probably not. One cashier and a store-full of customers - there's not a whole lot he could have done for you.

The cashier kept his calm. The other customers looked on in various states of amusement or boredom. I managed to get out of the store without glaring at the guy. Most of us, it seems, were wearing adult-sized under-garments. Christmas spirit, love & good cheer won out that evening. Here's hoping for more moments when I lose control and goodness and good undies preside.

Saturday, December 4, 2010

Away in a Manger



Away in a manger no crib for a bed, the little old smart phone lay down in the shed. The camel is spitting, the phone it does shake, but little old smart phone no ringing it makes.

Friday, December 3, 2010

All Good Gifts

I skipped a whole month of blogging. November happened here in our house but I just wasn't in the mood to talk about it. Things were mostly good, even when they were hectic, but I still didn't feel like sharing.

Now December is here. We started lighting Advent candles. The Christmas decorations are going up little by little. There is much Christmas music in the house. Much of the shopping is done. I've started the heavy allergy meds. [Sidenote - with the help of a recently rediscovered friendship and the other allergists she works with, we might figure out what the deal with the Christmas tree allergy is. At the very least, I'm hopeful that I'll make it to Christmas Eve without bronchitis this year.]

Because of the way the custody schedule fell this year, we haven't had much recreative time with Monkey & Peanut. I've missed weekend time with them. So much of our everyday time is spent with to-dos and planners. Monkey is sometimes surprised to hear me laugh because in the midst of the school routines she forgets that there's a side of me that would rather scrap it all and just have some fun. Deep down I just want to curl up on the sofa with her and read a good book together but responsible parenting prevails. [We started Harry Potter & the Sorcerer's Stone almost two months ago and we're still only half way through. We need weekend time for that alone, even without all the other stuff.]

Tonight we set aside the schedule and had family time. We lit our Advent wreath and talked about how we wait in hope for the good that Jesus brings. We sang our invitation to Emmanuel - a little too loudly for Monkey's taste. Then we played a board game and drank coffee together. (Puddin' got milk, I promise.) We laughed and talked and tried to touch our noses with our tongues. We sent the kids to bed an hour late.

I'm still not feeling particularly verbose about our goings-on here. I feel like protecting the time, keeping it close and holding it sacred. Holidays are for sharing, though, and my lovely sister-in-law has chastised me for holding out on her.

So for each of you out there - I wish you hope & peace, joy & love, as you go through each day of this holiday season. I'm on the lookout for these good things in my world and will cheerfully share what I find. I'd love to hear what good you come across as well.

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Saved by grace

I weep a lot. I thank God I laugh a lot, too. The main thing in one's own private world is to try to laugh as much as you cry.
- Maya Angelou

This week, I had a major & public parenting failure. There was screaming. A well-meaning stranger tried to help. Instead of letting her, I slunk away with my confused children in tow. The woman's words have led to huge amounts of shame, resentment, and anger but most importantly to soul-searching.

I've been trying too long to be perfect. Being a good mom to intelligent, beautiful daughters is a hard job. There are a thousand ways to second-guess myself every day. Being stepmom is even harder. I feel like "good" isn't enough. There's always someone watching. If someone is feeling punitive on a day I make a mistake then we could all end up in court, redrafting the custody agreement. Therefore, I can't make mistakes. To be good enough as a stepmom means perfection. And perfection for stepmom means perfection for kids. Monkey wouldn't have made that mistake if I had coached her a little more with her homework. Peanut would have done better on the test if I had made sure she was in bed on time. The harder I try to reach the bar, the further we move away from it.

Peanut is a people-pleaser so she's done her darnedest to reach the standard. She'll wear what she's told, read what she's told, think what she's told. Of course, switching from house to house those things she's being told change a few times each week. She's still trying, though. She wants to be perfect so that we'll love her more. Even typing that sentence breaks my heart. She has no concept of how wonderful she really is, much less what things make her uniquely so.

Monkey, on the other hand, is completely her own person. She will not be anything other than who she is. She is not normal and has zero interest in going there. Her reaction to the perfection stress has been to flout every standard but turn around and throw the bossy perfectionist stress back at the rest of the family. She's learned that imperfect people still get to demand perfection from others.

The ugly flip side of this is that there is another woman who loves these children madly and who is doing the best she knows how for them. On my good days I wish her well and assume the best of her. On other days I criticize and judge. I rehash her actions, count her mistakes, and scrutinize her motivations. I wish I had more good days but I'm too busy trying to hide my imperfection.

The day after my ugly, screaming tantrum was rainy. Puddin' and I were off to pick up Monkey from school and Puddin' asked to wear her boots. Puddin' is a puddle jumper. A block before the school there's a deep muddy puddle that delights her little soul. I let her jump and run and twirl her umbrella. Monkey came along and together we stood, watching Puddin's joy. Perfect-mom cried out that Monkey should go straight to work on her homework but I let Puddin's laughter drown the nagging voice. I let out a deep laugh at a particularly exuberant leap and Monkey commented that she never sees me laugh like that. On my good days I laugh a lot. I wish I had more good days.

Stan and I have recently started talking with the kids about the difference between living in a perfect world where mistakes are punished and a grace-filled world where mistakes are forgiven. We are all - parents and children both - trying to choose grace. Grace, like muddy puddles, brings delight to our souls.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

How about them apples?

I'm a HUGE fan of apples and, along with that, of apple picking. I usually go every autumn. This year we got into the late part of the season before I planned the extended family apple picking outing. There was one Saturday when we had just enough time to get a trip in and still get kiddos back for soccer practice as needed. Then Puddin' got invited to a birthday party for that very same day. The little tot has a rather limited social life so in this case her event trumped mine. I was bummed: no trip to the countryside, no apples, no family time. The rest of the gang went without us and from what I heard, enjoyed themselves. More importantly, they brought us apples!

Apples that haven't been to the grocery store taste marvelously free. I've been slowly snacking my way through my bag (apples with honey, apples with peanut butter, apples and pancakes, and of course just plain apples) but yesterday I started baking. The apples have peaked so now it's a race against time to enjoy their goodness while it's still there. So far I've made apple cake with walnuts (moist, tasty, needs a caramel or streussel topping) and apple cinnamon scones (made into an appropriate breakfast food with the addition of whole wheat flour and some ground flax seed.)

My parents bought themselves a tool but it arrived after they'd finished all their apple recipes so I'm testing the gadget. For those who don't know, let me introduce the Apple Master.

This gal does three jobs - she cores the apple (although you can remove the corer), she peels it, and she slices the apple into one long spiral (kinda like a curly fry.) The peel comes off in one long, even, curly strip which would be lovely to do something with except for the fact that I have no idea what to do with just apple peel. The one downside I've found is that the apples (which have been off the tree for two weeks so they're a little sensitive) get a bit mealy with all that man-handling.

Given the easy apple prep, I'm ready to keep on baking. My family, most of whom don't like apples as much as I do, might not be able to keep up with me. Just about the time the dear darlings hit their limit I'll pull out the crockpot and whip up a batch of apple butter, which makes apple-y goodness last until next year's crop is ready for me to pick.

Beauty vs. Drama: Battle of the Queens

Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything beautiful, for beauty is God's handwriting. - Ralph Waldo Emerson

I have beautiful kids. I live in a beautiful part of the world. My handsome husband has a beautiful soul. I have some beautiful shoes. There is much beauty to behold in my world.

Sometimes I have trouble seeing beauty because there's too much drama in the way. Emotional drama does a good job of obliterating the joy of a beautiful moment. Kid drama sucks the life out of me like no other since I'm reminded that I'll be spending time with them for many years to come, whether or not they've outgrown these behaviors.

One of the kids got mad at school when she lost a game so she threw the game pieces across the room. Her lack of self-control makes for intense, hard to process drama. Another kid feels her emotion bodily so every negative emotion becomes a stomach or headache. Eventually, in dramatic fashion, stress becomes vomit.  And, of course, toddlers are pretty much designed for drama. Me-do-it turns to screaming rant in seconds, often without warning or obvious way out.

It's not all drama, of course. I love the beautiful glow on their faces when they feel proud. I love the beautiful toddler run. I love the beautiful curiosity & creativity. I love the beautiful ambition to do more each day. I love beautiful moments when none of them around.

Kid-free moments bring hope for serenity. Kid-free beauty can be savored in quiet rather than experienced prosaically.  Kid-free time brings freedom to explore without fear of destruction.

This weekend Stan and I will have a blissful 24 hours kid-free. We don't have any fancy plans but the simplicity is part of the beauty. We will pluck tasks from our to-do lists, seek out creative expression, and enjoy the vast silence. Life is already looking more beautiful, just knowing that for a brief time - and soon - we will not be outnumbered.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

This week in Thankfulness

Today I'm grateful for ...

... passionate children, even when their passions cause extra work for the parents.
... creative play for all ages.
... teachers who want to challenge our kids.
... silly poetry (especially when it inspires more silly poetry.)
... guacamole and chimmichurri sauce. I'm a little obsessed right now.
... the purplish leaves in our front yard.
... a college education that prepared me to parent through the tough times. (How many folks can say that one?)
... new running shoes.
... little girls who like to run with me.

Friday, September 17, 2010

Yuppie Babies Drive to IKEA

I'm raising a yuppie child. I'm not doing it on purpose, I promise. Even admitting it here feels like maybe I belong in the basement of the Unitarian church in an obscure 12-step meeting. Sometimes I wonder whether I should try to correct course but most of the time I'm just fine with it. There are worse fates than yuppie, right?

I suppose we don't help matters when we read her things like Foodie Babies Wear Bibs. There's a whole series of them, each rather delicious. I giggle with delight and put them under her nose and frankly, she doesn't stand a chance.

Here are a few sentences I heard from her yesterday - words that would have been completely foreign in my own (distinctly non-yuppie, even though the word hadn't been invented yet) childhood.

"I'm going to IKEA. I have a GPS so I don't need directions. The GPS will tell the car where to go." And while she's driving she'll most likely listen to NPR. Yep, that's my kid.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

This week in Thankfulness

I'm grateful today ...

... for the spunky cardinal at the bird feeder and the others looking down from the tree.
... for cloud watching with Puddin' and rolling in the grass.
... for new-to-us books from the library.
... for smiling, happy Peanut running off to school.
... for crisp, tangy apples and the chance to go pick more soon.
... for leaf printing with Monkey.
... for frequent potty successes.

Friday, September 10, 2010

Weather Vane or Whether Vain

When the weather turns I feel the need to re-assess my direction. I amp up my exercise, change my eating habits, and nurture my hobbies. Its a lovely time of revitalization, 4 times a year. I wish it didn't need to happen so often but it's certainly fun while I'm in the midst of it.

As fall approaches, I'm doing all these things again - which is no surprise. What seems surprising is that it feels comfortable. I'm not facing the internal resistance to change that I usually do. Maybe this time some of the changes will actually stick, but I'm trying not to count my frogs before they leap.

What the frog is she talking about?
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Thursday, September 9, 2010

The blues are like spirituals, almost sacred. When we sing blues, we’re singing out our hearts, we’re singing out our feelings. Maybe we’re hurt and just can’t answer back, then we sing or maybe even hum the blues. When I sing ... what I’m doing is letting my soul out. - Alberta Hunter, American blues singer 

Alberta Hunter had a storied life that gave an extra boost to her already powerful voice. I'll never sing like that but I hope that when I'm 80 I can look that joyful. In my harried days, joy is sometimes covered in blue shadows.

It's been a rough week here, getting the 5 of us used to a new life routine. School has started, meetings are up and running again, lessons and classes too. As much as I love this time of year, the uncertainty about how it all works together has given me some sleepless nights. In my sleepy angst, I turn to music.

I can get through my happy times without music, although I much prefer a soundtrack whenever possible. I can't get through my tough times without music, though. My soul feeds on music as my lungs feed on air. Sometimes it's the songs Puddin' makes up to explain her day, other times it's great jazz from our local station. On the really blue days, the most soothing music is home made (but rarely the blues.)

This week someone gave me an electric bass. Bassists are often brooding types. The ones I've known are quietly passionate. They set mood and tone for music without much overt play for attention. Something about that role calls out to me. My soul - bruised yet hopeful - can't wait to come out and play.

Monday, September 6, 2010

Chimney Rock



School starts tomorrow so I should probably finish all the summer stories soon. I'm sure there will be much more to talk about in the coming weeks. I know for sure that there will be more time to myself for putting coherent thoughts together. God bless our public school system.

As part of our big summer road-trip we stopped at Chimney Rock in North Carolina. After a few hours of driving (and what had been nearly a week of driving for Stan and me) it was great to get out and move. I'm a huge fan of hiking even though I don't do it often and have turned into a wimp. I often long for mountains and go into a funk if I don't get my fix a few times a year. Chimney Rock isn't quite hiking, though. This was climbing stairs—lots of them—crowded with most of the office building during a full elevator outage. We had breezes and plenty of beautiful scenery, and a toddler to carry—did I mention this was hard work?

Monkey & Peanut started off the hike a little leery but it didn't take them long to realize that this was going to be worth the effort. Here's a picture of them at the first overlook. (Aren't they gorgeous? It's hard for me to even see the background.)

We hiked on and came to Chimney Rock itself. You can see from the first picture what it looks like. I thought a little too much about the fact that there were 25–50 people standing on a rock jutting out from the side of a mountain so I sat mostly still in the very center of the space. I managed to keep my mouth shut and not ruin the fun for the rest of the fam, which I consider a victory. I did manage to shut down my fear long enough to participate in pictures. In the solo picture, Stan is looking up at the next part of our hike. He looks a little wistful, I think.

Monkey took the picture of Stan and me together. I've got hat hair and we're both squinting. I almost didn't include it but we look happy and that makes it a pretty real representation. To make up for the scruffy parents, take a look at those fabulous girls! Monkey, looking off in the distance, distracted by some beautiful sight. Peanut, looking straight at the camera ready to start up a dialog. Puddin' just delighted to be part of it all. We have a bad history with Christmas cards (I don't think we've managed to get them out once since we've been married) but I'm tempted to get some printed up with this picture. I still won't manage to get them in the mail, though, so they would turn into bookmarks and toddler projects. Instead, I'll just post it here for friends and family (and a few random strangers—hi!) to see. In a few months—when you're counting your holiday cards—please remember this and count us in. Hope your holidays are full of joy. Happy New Year!

We continued up to the next part of the hike and were able to look down on what we had accomplished. That's one of the things that I enjoy about hiking: There are plenty of tangible rewards on the way up, with scenery and endorphins, but there's also instant feedback when you get to the top. Look what I just overcame!

A very nice mother/daughter team took some family pictures for us. The best of the bunch is down near the bottom of the post. Puddin' did not want to smile for the strange lady.

After our climb down [please don't run. watch out for the people climbing up. no trampling, please. remember how hard it was to climb up? so don't run over the climbers.] we took in the waterfall down towards the bottom. There hadn't been too much rain so it was a gentle fall. The great thing about gentle is that without too much flow, it was safe for folks to climb in. Stan took Monkey & Peanut in to go traipsing about in the water while Puddin' and I stayed on dry bridge. I had a great shot lined up with Stan's hand in the falls but a tattooed arm got in the frame and then the camera battery died. The other battery was in Stan's pocket. They splashed and explored, even though the camera wasn't there to record it. It was all going wonderfully until Peanut slipped on a slimy rock and got wet up to her belly button. She squished for some of the rest of the day but we didn't have anywhere nice we needed to go.

From there we went to find some dinner and then off to our hotel. The next day it was back in the van for more road-trip.






Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Date? with no kids?

Stan and I took some time during our recent road trip for an overnight date - 36 hours without any children! We toured Stan's old school, ate like college students and then glammed up for a night out. Here's a little photo tour of some of the highlights.


We headed for town after breakfast and went immediately to lunch. Cheese steaks at one of Stan's old haunts. Cheese steaks are not on the diet but they were immensely tasty and well worth the momentary guilt. The guilt was quickly drowned out by Stan anyway, as he told me stories of his college life.

Next on the list was an official college tour - the kind the admissions office puts together for perspective freshmen. I'm happy to report that I was NOT mistaken for a high schooler.


It was 100˚ that day and we walked 'round campus for 90 minutes that afternoon. We left puddles in our wake. We both enjoyed the time on campus but we were grateful to head off to the hotel and wash away the hobo looks we had acquired.

There are no pictures of us dressed up. I forgot to pack a purse to match and the camera didn't fit in Stan's pocket. Quite a shame, really, because we don't manage to look that nice very often. We ate at an unassuming little place called Terra Terrior, which I found from the most recent Wine Spectator Grand Award winners. The food was excellent - chipotle shrimp & grits, grilled halibut in shallot sauce, and a creamy, frothy, meringue-y key lime pie.

We headed back to the hotel and this ...


was the view out our room window. During the day the view showed the beautiful hotel gardens but there's still enough city gal left in me that this is the picture that felt luxurious.

The next morning we walked over to a nearby Corner Bakery and had scrumptious eggs, coffee and toast. I've been to a few shops from this chain and never considered it much to sing about but this one could be the poster-shop for the brand. The staff was wonderful, called us darlin' and the like - and we even got hugs to go with our breakfast. How often do you get hugs from the staff when you're out for breakfast? And how did this wonderful woman (who's name I didn't catch) manage to make it a blessing rather than creepy?

We spent the rest of the morning at the pool. I am happy when submerged in water.



From there we drove about town looking at all sorts of other locations that Stan had known in his college years. Since I didn't know him then it was fun to see something concrete to go with the stories, and to get a glimpse into that time in his life. By walking in Stan's footsteps I can somehow be a part of those years, even from a distance of many years. I'm looking forward to our next nostalgic road trip.

Thursday, August 12, 2010

This is not my father's roadtrip

When I was young we often went on long road trips to visit family. We'd pile into the car at 4 a.m., eat a Hardee's breakfast somewhere down the road, try and find someplace serving lunch at 10 in the morning. Other than food, we only stopped for absolute potty emergencies. There were no electronics save the radio and tape player. We played oodles and oodles of car games. We'd drive late into the night and finally stop to find beds long after my brother and I had fallen asleep in the car. We'd be up and out at 4 the next morning and so it goes again. They were rough trips but I remember them as full of family fun.

Last week we went down South to pick up Monkey & Peanut. We traveled down, dropped off Puddin', went to the big city for a 36 hour date, back to the in-laws, and then packed up all the kids and headed off to camp. We had to get Monkey & Peanut to West Virginia at a certain time on Sunday afternoon so the best way to manage this was to stay overnight halfway through and then continue the next day. I told Stan my standard was no cockroaches. He found a lovely spot with rustic charm and a French-inspired bistro on the first floor. For breakfast I had a feta and carmelized onion souffle with fresh fruit and drinkable (tasty, even) coffee. Sitting outside, listening to the waterfall, drinking my coffee, I could barely hear the sounds of the bickering children. What a blissful and civilized way to start a day of traveling.

(For the record, the sippy cup was not mine.)
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Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Happy Birthday Stan!

 

I made a cake today (from scratch, which is rare) and Puddin' asked "oh, why?" She's a unique toddler but we still can't escaped that question. I told her it was for her dad's birthday. "oh, why?" Today is his birthday. "oh, why?" Today is the day we celebrate that he was born. And from that point on, Puddin' and all her toys did everything as a celebration that Daddy was born. They ate (pretend) yogurt to celebrate that Daddy was born. They rolled on the floor to celebrate that Daddy was born. They served cookies to celebrate that Daddy was born. They climbed the stool to celebrate that her Daddy was born. The girl was beyond herself with glee that her Daddy was born. So am I.

[The picture is from a date we recently had down South, as part of the Great Roadtrip of '10.]

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Being Maria

Here are 5 of the 6 grand kids on Stan's side of the family. [#6 was just out of the frame, with a plastic cake plate cover on his head.] In this picture, they are standing on the fireplace hearth, which acts as a stage more often than serving it's intended purpose

The biggest three were performing songs from The Sound of Music, which they had almost completely memorized over the course of 3 days. Kids 4 and 5 just wanted to be part of the action, but made welcome additions to the Von Trapp reenactment, even though they didn't know the songs.

Most of the adults [also numbering 6. We like to keep our teams even.] sat on the couch and half listened but for me, this was far too delightful to just watch. You see, as a child I too was obsessed with The Sound of Music. I loved watching the movie and singing the songs. I never had a gaggle of kids to reenact it with me, though. Right before my eyes my kids, along with niece and nephew, were living out a childhood fantasy.

I sang the words (quietly) from the back of the room and watch their motions with hushed pride. Monkey had been paying very careful attention to the moves and tried diligently to coach the others. The beautiful young voices - which are often strained into awful mimicry of pop artists - followed the lilting melodies perfectly, matching pitch and tone. Without even thinking, I took to singing the part of Maria. Occasionally, one of the kids looked at me and I gave the gentle nod of encouragement, just like Maria would have done.

Monkey beckoned me to the stage with her hands and it occurred to me - I'm Maria. I'm the step mom; I'm the one that helps them with their music lessons; I'm the one who sings and dances with them. It was a stunning moment, and for one brief instance I could imagine our brood dressed in folksy travel gear, climbing the mountainside, singing in perfect 5-part harmony.

I didn't end up going on stage with them. It was the kids' show and I didn't want to steal their glory. But I hope that we will have more opportunities soon to play and sing like that as a family.
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Thursday, July 29, 2010

My, what big teeth you have!

My toddler looks like a preschooler. I know it's not a huge difference to most of the world but from the Mama perspective, it's gargantuan. Our girls are doing a bunch of growing up this summer, as little girls are want to do.

Puddin' is in a big girl bed and had her first trip to the dentist. She's counting, using big words and bigger sentences. She's talking to new people (including giving a kiss to a waitress at a Thai restaurant. She really enjoyed the food.)

While down South, Peanut rode her first roller coaster. I didn't get to see it but heard the stories. Verdict - it was awesome! She's learning to embrace unfamiliar things and leave childish fears behind, just as long as the adults around her push a little. She's on the cusp of independence that comes with the tween years. She's been away from us for a few weeks and barely misses us, which is good, even when it doesn't feel so delightful.

Monkey has discovered that she's good at the breast stroke. She's delighted to find an unexpected skill and is feeling pretty good about herself. She's finding her voice - phone conversations are a barrage of sound from start to finish - which is a big change from the shy girl we had just a few months ago. She's also learning how to tell humorous stories without belittling people and adding snarky attitude. Conversations are oh-so-much more pleasant now. I think she'll come out of tween-dom a rather lovely human being.

After a year of hard life lessons, we're all finally finding joy and rest. If this summer is any indication, I think it's going to be a good year at our house. 

[The astronaut picture is at the dentist office - the same pediatric dentist I went to around Monkey's age. Back then it was an aquarium but still uber-cool.]

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Friday, July 16, 2010

Misfit, redux

There's an empty chair at our house today. A friend I haven't seen in weeks was supposed to come over for a chat and iced coffee or home-made limeade. Well, actually the plan was originally to go on a mini-adventure together but we couldn't get our schedules lined up. Even with the simplified plan I was really looking forward to our time together. Puddin' and I planned our activities and play around her expected arrival time, which came and went without a word. I feel like I've been stood up on a Friday night.

I didn't have a good social life in high school. Not many teenagers like to talk philosophically about life and religion and body humor has never had appeal for me. I spent most of my weekends babysitting or home watching movies with my parents. Mostly I was ok with the situation - I didn't have much in common with my peers - but occasionally I'd feel the need to do something about it. I'd meet someone who seemed to have more depth than the average teen or who had enough quirks that maybe mine wouldn't matter much. It never took long for the cautious optimism to turn to deflated loneliness.

I don't feel that way much anymore. Stan doesn't like words nearly as much as I do but he's often willing to talk things through with me for a while. His analytic brain adds needed grounding for my philosophical ramblings. We're intrigued by some of the same big ideas and problems. We're a good match and together we don't feel like the misfits we're sometimes perceived to be. I like to think I've outgrown my awkwardness but situations like the one today make me think I'm wrong.

I know this friend likes me and values time with me. I recognize that her life is full and demanding. I understand that her life - unattached and artistic - requires a different schedule than raising a toddler does. I'm also quite sure we'll get together again soon. In the meantime I'm soothing my wounded pride with carrot cake. Speaking of which - I've got enough to share and would love to have some company. Come on over!
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Thursday, July 15, 2010

I'm afraid I can't let you do that


iPhoto stole my photos. I entrusted my pics to iPhoto and then the program hid them from me. After weeks of trying to work with and then around the program I declared war. I did a google search to figure out how to get at my photos again and found language from mac users saying things like "iPhoto hid your pictures for a reason." and "Don't go digging in your pictures files or you might mess something up." and even "You don't ever need to know where your files are." I got so frustrated that I even had dreams about my computer turning into HAL. "I'm sorry Heather, I'm afraid I can't show you your photos." Finally, my hero Stan figured out how to get control of my pictures again. Thanks to my honey's efforts, I can get back to posting my own photos instead of stealing from other folks.

The photo above is of me at the pier in Fairhope, Alabama. Behind me is Mobile Bay and in the distance, the Gulf of Mexico. I'm posting this shot in celebration that the oil has stopped gushing. I'm hoping that the well and apparatus are now stable, and praying for a speedy recovery of that beloved shore.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Something's not right on the farm

"Old MacDonald had a farm and on that farm he had some panties." - Puddin', joyfully sung today while sitting on the potty.

Why does Farmer MacDonald have panties on his farm? Are there lots of daughter farmers-in-training? Is he trying to train the chickens? Does he just want to feel pretty? Puddin' didn't have anything further to say on the matter - she was too busy giggling hysterically at her own joke. This may go down as one of the great mysteries of our age.

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Have guitar, will travel

This is my first post in quite a long time. I started one a while back and then realized that there wasn't much point to it - it was, in fact, rather boring. Basically it boils down to my kids are smart and I don't let them get bored because I have no tolerance for the whining or fighting.

So that's pretty much been my days. In the evening I tend to crash from all the expended energy and enthusiasm. Some nights I'll try and get a little cleaning done but that makes me more grumpy so I generally just deal with the mess. There hasn't been much room for pondering or creativity. Of course, that's also part of why I'm grumpy and drained but that's a whole other matter.

Earlier this week, out of the blue, Puddin' looked at me and said "Mama, I like how you sing." "Oh," I said, "you like it when I sing?" "Yeah. So booful." Then later at the grocery store she started singing and I tried to join in. "No, it's my turn. You no sing now." and sang even louder down the cereal aisle.

Last week Peanut - the resident rocker - asked me to spend some time painting with her. This is pretty rare since she doesn't generally see herself as a visual artist. I wish she hadn't asked while I was prepping dinner - I'm not sure I'll get that opportunity back.

Monkey- our painter and ballerina - is taking a break from dance this summer and doing some intro lessons in guitar and piano. Her long fingers work magic on the keyboard, even though she's only had a few lessons. She's also signed up to take violin through the school next year, which she was quite reluctant to even consider a year ago.

Each of our girls is freely taking artistic risks and exploring new avenues. For both Monkey & Peanut this is a pretty big change. They used to be reluctant to try anything unfamiliar. Monkey is starting to recognize how creative her thought processes are and is trying to harness it. (She started a series of baby picture books that are pretty good. I hope she'll finish a few of them.) Peanut is starting to understand the amount of work it takes to hone talent and will choose to practice without prompting at least once a week. And Puddin' is busting out all over. She's dancing, doing percussion, and singing her heart out. Shout out to Papa, if he's reading - she loves drumming, especially on bellies. Sometimes she'll sing a little bit and then say to me in all seriousness "I just made up that song."

This weekend we take Monkey & Peanut down South to Stan's parents for a month. They get to run and swim and have sleepovers and generally be little girls for days on end. Among the many things on my list to pack is two guitars. In my mind's eye I can see them now, each proudly wheeling her suitcase with her guitar case strapped to her back. If they were just 6 inches taller it could be the picture of going off to college, or on the road for the first gig. I love watching them grow, especially into such beautiful works of art. I'm sure gonna miss them.

Monday, June 21, 2010

Tiny Bubbles

We're a musical household. Stan has a beautiful deep baritone voice. Peanut is learning guitar & piano. Monkey is trying them out too but her real love is dance, and visual arts. I'm trying to add guitar to my repertoire but singing is the part that comes most naturally to me. Puddin' is turning out to be quite the singer too. (Of course, at the moment Puddin' is pretending she's playing at a piano bar so who knows where she'll end up.)

Puddin' and I have a song for just about everything. We have food songs, sleepy songs, diaper change songs and now potty songs. Some of them we make up, and some we co-opt to suit our purposes. Along with potty training comes hand washing and hand washing must have its own song. The song we've settled on is "Tiny Bubbles." We put soap on hands, start scrubbing and sing until we see the tiny bubbles appear. This is a schmaltz classic from 50 years ago but it holds great power for this particular toddler. We haven't made it past the first line yet but I'm thinking we can make this work for us. If you have any ideas - brilliant or otherwise - for child-proofing the song I'd love to hear them.

Tiny Bubbles
words & music by Leon Pober

Tiny bubbles (tiny bubbles)
In the wine (in the wine)
Make me happy (make me happy)
Make me feel fine (make me feel fine)

Tiny bubbles (tiny bubbles)
Make me warm all over
With a feeling that I'm gonna
Love you till the end of time

So here's to the golden moon
And here's to the silver sea
And mostly here's a toast
To you and me

So here's to the ginger lei
I give to you today
And here's a kiss
That will not fade away

Thursday, June 17, 2010

The Last Throes of Spring

It's been a while since I've put up a wine post. Rest assured, we're still drinking but there haven't been many outstanding wines in the cue. It's hard to get up the energy to write up a wine that doesn't wow me, (even though I said I was going to.) Earlier this week we had a rosé syrah that I was excited about. I came up with what I thought was a good menu to match but it was merely ok. Honestly, I count my lucky stars that we get "ok" wine as often as we do when our price point is so very low. Times like these I miss working in the wine world.

The big news in our house is panties. Panties, panties, panties! We dance with panties, we sing about panties, we wash a lot of panties. We're trying to convince the toddler that panties really are the bees knees and it's worth giving up the uninterrupted play that diapers allow. It's a slow process but I think we're making progress. This morning she begged for a diaper but we're holding our ground. I imagine the toddler mood swings will work to our advantage and she'll be singing the praises of panties again within the hour.

[I'm sure some of y'all noticed the juxtaposition of pictures here. Puddin' has her potty training tools and Mama has a set of her own.]

In addition to all this we're finishing the school year - and have finally finished the "spring" planting. Summer doesn't officially start for another week so we're technically in the zone. The plants are harder to convince. Hopefully they'll get over the loss of their spring and be willing to grow anyway.

I feel somewhat similarly about Monkey & Peanut as they finish their school years. Hopefully they'll get over the losses and stresses of this year and grow stronger in spite of it all. It's been a rough school year for all of us. The loss of pets, the lack of friends, and scary new stages of growth. Summer brings familiar activities, childish fun, and time to step away from the stress, not to mention the chance to let the toddler run naked in the backyard. Who needs potty training?