Confessions

First, I'd like to say thanks for all of the birthday wishes I received here and for all of the wonderful book suggestions given in the fairy tale post...I am a year older, but at least I have lots of reading material to spice up the new year!

Currently, I need an attitude makeover. I'll share a little bit of my feelings here, because I know that other moms read this blog - and hopefully, you'll recognize where I'm coming from.

I hate it when I get this pinched-breath sort of feeling, because I am well aware of the blessings that actually overwhelm my life. And my children are the best and most beautiful of them all...but every now and then, especially when my last solo venture into the world to do something Christie-ish (like browsing in a bookstore) is at best a vague memory (early spring?), the routines get to me. Seriously - do you ever feel like if you have to pick up the pieces of those same puzzles one more time in a twenty four hour period that you might spontaneously combust? It's these cycles that ever hurtle forwards that can get to me - the laundry, the dishes, the crumbs that mysteriously end up all over the carpet (eight times a day! I don't understand how they sneak this stuff out of the kitchen!), the tussles between toddlers that invariably end in tears and the guilty party hiding under the bed...I feel guilty even writing this stuff down, but it's the truth. Every now and then, I want to run away. Just for a few hours. Just long enough to eat a snack without having to share it and maybe to drink something hot without worrying about small hands overturning the cup...just long enough to get through a chapter of something without an adventuresome two year old trying to yank the curtains down from their rods...if Neil didn't work such a consuming job, there might be more chances for me to have those hours...but he does, so there are these times when the sameness of every day begins to glaze over the joys therein...

Like today.

So maybe venting a little to you, blogosphere, will ease up some of the frustration. In hopes of reminding myself of what I should be saying instead of complaining, I'm including a classic prayer written by St. Thomas Aquinas that I have always loved. I'm also adding a wonderful painting by Craig Nelson, an artist I have just discovered. Definitely check him out.

"Grant, O Lord my God, that I may never fall away in success or in failure; that I may not be prideful in prosperity nor dejected in adversity. Let me rejoice only in what unites and sorrow only in what separates us. May I strive to please no one or fear to displease anyone except Yourself. May I seek always the things that are eternal and never those that are only temporal. May I shun any joy that is without You and never seek any that is beside You. O Lord, may I delight in any work I do for You and tire of any rest that is apart from You. My God, let me direct my heart towards You, and in my failings, always repent with a purpose of amendment."

Yummylicious

There is nothing quite like devouring a bowl of strawberries...with cool whip, with chocolate, with a light sprinkle of sugar...if people had official fruits and trees and flowers and such, like states, the strawberry would be my official fruit. (And while we're on the fruit thing, you should click http://humaninspired.blogspot.com/2007/04/would-you-like-to-sample-our-avocado.html to learn a little fruit trivia fresh from California...)

I have officially taught Christian the joy in this deliciousness. He ate so many strawberries for dessert tonight that I think his fingertips and his chin may be permanently dyed red. Literally, strawberry after strawberry after strawberry...going "mmmmm" the entire time. (I think I may have heard a mumbled version of "delicioso" in there, too. Thanks, Dora the Explorer.) So I have handed down the strawberry obsession.

At times like these, I feel that I am fulfilling my duty as his guide in this big ol' world.

Of Peter Cottontail (and Santa, too)

On seeing the Easter Bunny at Wal-Mart on Friday -

Sean: "Mommy, why was that Easter Rabbit wearing shoes? Rabbits don't wear shoes."

Ummm...we dress up on Easter, so the Easter Rabbit dresses up with us. Right? I mean, wouldn't that have been a good answer?

Unfortunately, I came up with that answer....yesterday. At the time, I couldn't think of a single thing to do except distract him. ( "Hey, look at that candy the Rabbit gave you! Cool! Can I open it for you? Candy! Yay!" My only other thought was the truth - "Kiddo, that's a really tall dude in a costume. If he didn't have on shoes, you'd see his real human feet instead of big rabbit paws. Plus, this floor is disgusting." [On further thought, why didn't Wal-Mart invest in a costume that had actual rabbit feet instead of letting the really tall dude in the white rabbit costume wear those huge black sneakers? We know you can afford it, Wal-Mart. We all get up to the check out counter with, oh, five items and end up paying forty bucks for it. Every time. Probably several times a month. WE DESERVE PAWS! Or at the very least, a nice shiny pair of dress shoes instead of boat-ish sneakers. Seriously, come ON.])

Ahem.


I'm going to need serious guidance with the Easter Bunny/Tooth Fairy/Santa thing if he continues to be this observant. He's three and already asking these things. I've always been torn on this issue anyway...do I let him believe that these characters are for real until he naturally figures it out on his own or do I leave no doubt that they're fun but make believe parts of holidays? If he asks direct questions, I know that I'll have to honestly answer him...I just didn't expect him to start asking these questions so soon.

I remember knowing from an early age that Santa wasn't real, but I still loved the idea of him. I guess that's what matters to me - not that the boys actually believe that there is a physical bunny in a bow tie dropping off a basket of goodies on Easter morning, but that they can retain a fairy tale-ish view of the world...that they can suspend their disbelief enough to join in the fun of it all...I want them to feel free to imagine.

The Post In Which There Is A Sundry of Items

A In Which The Day Quickly Fades

These were my thoughts when I woke up this morning: I'll get the boys dressed, run over for a quick playdate with their pal Xander, run to the store to finish up Easter necessities (a dozen eggs to color, for one extremely important item), and I'll be home by 3:30 to clean house and have a few hours for reading/playing with Sean's castle/catching up on blogs/etc., etc. etc.
What is it that they say about the best laid plans?
For one thing, I usually underestimate the time it's going to take to get all three of us out of the house. It doesn't take me that long to get dressed and ready to go...but then there are the juice cups to grab, the extra Pull-ups to remember, oh - that box of clothes for Xander, and I know I put my phone down somewhere....
Anyway, by the time everything was packed up in the car (including children), it was almost eleven o'clock. Playtime was fun - we went outside for a while, where their azalea bushes are crazy in bloom, and watched as three kids three and under attempted to play nicely.
We left about two and entered the realm of Wal-Mart. Wal-Mart on a holiday weekend. What was I thinking? Especially about myself, because if I had taken the time to honestly say - I have the hardest time making up my mind about which particular grass to buy for Easter baskets or what color, exactly, I need new toddler socks to be...I might have just gone on home and ventured out after dark when the boys were at home with Neil after his dress rehearsal for the Easter play. But I didn't think it through and so the time-sucking fangs of Wal-Mart - won, yet again.
And when I had just gotten to the register - after waiting for twenty minutes in line - I got this call from Neil:
N- "Hey, where are you?"
me - "Checking out. Finally."
N - "Real quick, get out of line. I need some solid red shorts to go underneath my costume for tonight."
me - "Um. What?"
N - "Solid red shorts. Not too baggy. And not with any markings. To go under the soldier costume."
me - "That's what I thought you said."


Three stores later, I found the appropriate shorts. He has a solo in which he ends up kneeling, so the shorts really were needed, and needed by six pm...but wow. Not the afternoon the kids were looking for, to say the least. They were remarkably well behaved, though, so we all rewarded ourselves with a chocolate chip cookie and Hi-C fruit punch from Subway.
It was well after six o'clock by the time we pulled up in the driveway and by the time I had cleaned up the kitchen, found the rest of Neil's costume stuff, and boiled eggs for coloring later on tonight...it was somehow dark-thirty.


B, In Which Two Sentences Exhibit the Joy of A Carrie-Friend

1. She made double banana pudding, just so she could share.
2. She voluntarily helped me to tuck my newly planted flowers in for the night, to protect them from the frost - literally, under light sheets...and she didn't make me feel that crazy for doing it.


C, In Which I Discuss Reading, Writing, and a Resolution

I've taken a few days off from the novel-writing, to splurge in a bit of a reading-fest. I'm so excited about all of the books lying around the house (from a used-book store run and the library on Tuesday) that it's been way too hard to stick to just one book...I've found myself trying to read five at the same time. You don't, um, get too far like that. I've found that when working on the novel gets a bit frustrating (as it was earlier this week), a good book binge is helpful fuel. I totally and completely concur with that age-old wisdom - if you want to write, you must read. For me, it's especially essential in a dry spell. When I read some really good writing, it makes me excited about language again...it makes me want to try my own hand at the craft.
Anyway, my frustrated post reaped some encouragement, which was much needed and appreciated...and it inspired me to make a decision - I'm going to try to get up an hour earlier than everybody else, at least every other day, for solid writing time. Not a terribly innovative idea, but one that's been difficult to carry out, since...I'm, um, fond of my pillow. I usually don't get to bed until late, so the early morning (pre-kids waking up) thing is something I should probably already be doing but haven't had the will power to try. I figure if I make a public intention to do it, I might be more prone to follow through. So you've seen it here- my way-past-new-year's resolution.

D, In Which I Am Excited About Proust!

So Luisa over at http://www.novembrance.blogspot.com/ posted an entry about how she and a friend were going to re-read In Search of Lost Time, the classic series by Proust. I have never read Proust before, and she piqued my interest with her description and obvious excitement. I checked out Swann's Way and by page two realized that I was definitely going to have to read the entire series. Anyway, we have a page so that we can all discuss the books as we read along...if you're interested in reading the books with us, or just in checking out the discussion, head over to http://www.teaandmadeleines.blogspot.com/.

E, In Which I Ramble About the Nature of Hope

A certain wonderful friend of mine had some high hopes sort of dashed against glaring rocks yesterday. And I've been trying to come up with something comforting to say to her, because I know that she's feeling a bit down...this is all I've managed to come up with.

Hope is a strange thing. We try not to do it sometimes, in order to save ourselves from disappointment (though it's usually still there, down in the basement with the lights turned off and the deadbolt locked)...it's an emotion of anticipation, of belief that the things that we want or need are morphing into reality. When those things don't actually materialize, we can feel let down. Angry that we let ourselves get worked up....maybe even sort of foolish, for indulging in expectation. We tell ourselves that we won't let it happen again - we will work on lowering our expectations.
Don't do it. If we stop hoping - especially when it comes to attaining our dreams - then we are essentially taking away a bit of the belief we hold in ourselves. If you lower your expectations, then you're robbing yourself of greater opportunities...and I know that good-hearted, hard-working people are deserving and capable of handling these greater opportunities. And even if it takes longer than expected, they will come. Don't lose a propensity to hope for marvelous things...sometimes we have to hold onto faith in the unexpected, in the out-of-nowhere grace that life can give. Hope has gotten us to where we are now, in one way or another. It'll get us to the next place.

and F, In Which I Say "So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, goodbye"

(The Sound of Music is on ABC Family all weekend, starting tonight.) So..."I flit, I float, I fleetly flee, I fly. The sun has gone to bed and so must I..."

Hello, Moon

A few weeks ago, I went on a grocery run one night after Neil got home from work. Sean decided that he wanted to go with me- on the way to the car he stopped and looked straight up into the dark sky. "Mommy," he said, "look at the moon! Look at all the stars!"

So I stopped with him and looked up at the thick spread of stars hanging heavy over us, at the nearly full moon. "I see them," I said. "They're beautiful."

He waved his little hand towards the sky. "Hey, Moon! It's me, Sean!"
I smiled and watched as he kept his eyes trained on the glowing orb. His next declaration was said in an 'I'm 3 years old and offended' indignant sort of way - "Moon! I said hey! Say hey to me!"

A long pause, in which he stared into the sky with a scowl on his face."Say. Hey. To. ME!"


Haven't we all felt like that before?

It's a Christie-ish Sort of Day...

A Christie-ish sort of day...which means the boys and I had lunch from Chick-fil-a (we love our chicken, as all good Southerners should), followed by a trip to the library(Godwin! Proust! If You Give A Mouse A Cookie!), followed by a perfect cup of coffee (made by yours truly. which for the rest of the world means way, way, way too much sugar), followed by house cleaning while watching an Audrey Hepburn movie (Paris, When It Sizzles)...
It absolutely thrills me that Sean and Christian get excited when I tell them that we're going to the library...Sean randomly told me that he wanted a Blue's Clues holiday book before we got there, and so I let him ask the children's librarian for it...it was his first official request to the librarian. I know it seems like a small step, but to me - he is searching for books. I've somehow communicated to him the joy in that...which is happy, happy, happy. I didn't even mind having to hush him every 3 seconds when he kept yelling about something else so cool that he had seen on a shelf...Christian can't ask for specific books yet, but he sure does do a great job of flipping through all of the kiddie board books and 'talking' about them at the top of his lungs. "Ball!" "Tree!" "Happy Birthday TO you!"
I'm sure the librarians downed a few bottles of Tylenol after we left.


Anyway, today started out in an unexpected discovery...thanks to the mega brain of Google.com...I happened to think of googling my dad's name...I was curious to see if his church web page would pop up. I'm not sure if it did or not - I got distracted when the third search result showed up with his name on a genealogy page. I clicked it and discovered that some distant relation found that side of my family on some side of her family...and so she did the research that took my direct ancestry all the way back to 1776. I didn't have time to fully investigate all of the information, but the coolest thing I've found so far is the actual will of my great (times 5) grandfather, (James) Levi Bailey. He was born in 1776 and died in 1851...his will is on file in the Madison County courthouse. This sort of thing fascinates me in general - to be able to read the actual words of one of my ancestors like this is incredible. Some random facts that I found interesting - Levi served as a captain of the third regiment of the militia from his county in the War of 1812 and Baileys Mountain in Madison County was named for him. I'm sharing the will here because it's such a glimpse into another era of our history...I particularly love the way that he wills away five dollars each to some of his children...and also the "smith tools and still and waggan". I'm excited to poke around a little more into the ol' family tree...it's all of those people falling in love and having children and making lives for themselves that brought me into existence...and my own little munchkins, too. I just wish that there was record of more besides death certificates and marriage dates - I'd love to know the stories behind all of these names. Who were they? What did they make of their lives and what did they think of this world? It's improbable that I'll ever really know - but it certainly is fun to imagine each generation in their time, farming and preaching (as it seems every other generation chose to do), and making their place while they were here. If I could speak to them, I'd have to say thanks - thanks for beginning a heritage for my grandparents, for my dad and his siblings, for me and my own...and for my babies. I hope that I can continue it in a way that would make them proud.
And now enough of my rambling. In his own words, Levi Bailey:



Last will & Testament of Levi Bailey sr Dec'd State of North Carolina March the 31st 1851


Madison County

In the name of God amen, I Levi Bailey seignior do hereby make my last will & testament in manner and form following towit, Knowing myself at this time to be sound in body and memory, my will and Desire is to dispose of what property and estate I now have or may have at my death as follows, and first it is my and desire that my son Levi Baily and his children have three hundred acres of land and.fifty acres on the east joining said lands -2 it is also my will and desire that Elizabeth Crowder and her children have part of the 200 acre tract, all on the west side of the ridge that runs through the plantation where I now live3 and also it is my will and desire that my grandson Levi J Baily have all on the east side of the ridge4 and it is my will and desire that Sarah McMahan,and her children have one hundred acres of land beginning on the corner of the 200 acre tract inculding the building where I now live it being two thirds of a hundred and fifty acre tract and runs from east to west5 and it is also my will and Desire that my grand son James M Bailey have all the lands above the lands of Sarah McMahans first - fifty acres. 2nd, 150 acres. 3rd, 100 acres of land. 4th fifty-acres of land. 5 - also 100 acres of land laying at the head of the branch that I live on6th and it is also my will and desire that Elizabeth Crowder and her children have the tract of land that they now live on contain 130 acres more or less and if I should dye first, it is my will and desire that my wife and the family should live here together till her decease both whites and Blacks, and work together as they formerly have done, and at her decease she can dispose of what she has at her will, and those of my children not mentioned in this will, have all had their parts - towit Allen Bailey Dec. and Nancy Jervis, Dorcas Anderson, Willey C Baily Joyce Holcombe and Polly Holcombe, but these six I will five Dollars a piece at my wifes death what of my property that is left behind, Stock of all kinds to equally divide among four towit - Sarah McMahan Elizabeth Crowder & James M Baily & Levi Bailey Jr and it is also my desire that the Black woman letty be free at my death and my wifes --- and at my wifes death my will and desire is my -son Levi Baily and grandson James M Baily have my two Black boys.Jack & alfred and also it is my will and desire that my son Levi Bailey have the Cupboord and bureau and black – and it is also my will and desire that my son Levi Bailey and James M Baily have the smith tools and still and waggan --- and I do hereby appoint Riley Allen and Ira Crowder my executors to this my last will and Testament, Given under my hand and seal day and date above written under 'ined before assigned Attest Levi Baily

Trying to Keep Perspective

I'm desperately trying to get some writing done - but I'm at the point where I can't even finish a legitimate blog post. My children are my inspiration, my first priority, the greatest love-burst a girl could hope for...but sometimes I don't know how in tarnation I'm supposed to finish anything with their exuberant toddler-ness spontaneously combusting around me.
Usually I just close my notebook or the laptop and play for a while, knowing that they'll later fall asleep or get involved in a puzzle or each other enough to give me a solid twenty minutes or so of working done, but this week they've been clinging to me non-stop. Maybe it's spring fever...whatever the reason, my writing schedule has been officially disrupted. I'm just a better, more peaceful person when I have that little bit of me-in-imaginary-world time...so let's hope I get some quality work done soon. And then let's hope I somehow alleviate the mom-guilt that goes along with this kind of frustration. (Do you know the cycle? It goes a little like this - These are my children, growing so fast - I shouldn't waste a single moment wanting to be doing anything else...but there are only so many years left of my life and if I don't write what I'm writing, then it'll never get written and doesn't God ask that I do my best with any given talents...but being a mother is the highest calling...but characters a, g, and t are stuck midsentence in that confrontation and my brain is stuck mid-plot at all times...what's that, Christian? You need juice?)
(Exhale.)
Anybody else out there ever feel this way? (Please, please say yes. Please?)

Bill Cosby Was Right

This is the greatest thing I learned during our sick weeks:
As my throat was really sore from coughing, I ate more Jello in the past two weeks than I have in the last two years. It's cold, smooth - the perfect food for an irritated throat. I figured the boys' throats were feeling aggravated, as well, so I offered the Jello to them. Sean just ignored it, as he has been for the past three years (he tends to refuse any food that can be eaten with a spoon) and I discovered the best thing - Christian thinks Jello is extremely funny. That is, as long as it's safely in its cup or on the spoon...if he can see it from a distance, he laughs out loud and points at it.
However, if you make it wiggle and jiggle after him, he suddenly thinks Jello is extremely scary. By this I mean that he actually screams and runs, glancing over his shoulder like the strawberry gelatin is going to bloom up and eat HIM.
Um, under medication, a certain mommy may have found this a tad too funny. (And without medication, I may or may not be still eating Jello just for the purpose of freaking out my two year old. Don't tell anyone. :) )
J-E-L-L-O...it's alive!!!!

Calling Mike Rowe

I'm playing nursemaid. Neil and Sean have both contracted some combination of fever/aches/upset stomach...what is better, on a Saturday night, then scrubbing up macaroni-laced vomit?
You know that show Dirty Jobs on the Discovery channel? They should send Mike Rowe into the life of a mom with toddlers still unable to take care of most of their personal business by themselves - icky on a regular basis, but during a stomach virus?
DEFINITELY Dirty Jobs material.

They Make a Mama Proud...

Sean loves to pose for a camera...



Christian and our favorite playdate, Xander...who needs toys

when you have the toybox?

Breath of Fresh Internet

I discovered some new websites that have already put some new spunk into my at home with the boys existence...they're so fun and informative that I have to share them. People, this first one is to me what Noggin is to Sean. The magazine and community for the new urban parent - www.babble.com. This has tons of links to entertaining blogs, cute baby stores, and good info, too - plus columns on everything from traveling with babies on band tours to breast feeding. This site makes me feel almost normal.
The second is www.kidscraftweekly.com... a crafty mom posts fun and, most importantly, easy crafts for young kids. These actually include pictures of her own kids making the project, which makes it much easier to accomplish. I'm telling you - I've made a list of craft supplies and am now salivating for pipe cleaners, glitter, and cardboard tubes.
And now if you'll excuse me, I have to go craft it up with toddlers.

Why Toddlers Cooperating Can Be Dangerous

Another kitchen disaster.
I was in our office/guest room/biggest tv in the world room this morning, working on the web-site for our business and chatting a bit with Carrie. This was post-breakfast, early morning playtime for the boys, which is usually a peaceful time. At last check, they were content with their puzzles in the middle of the living room and I had heard no alarming sounds...
And then.
Christian ran into the room with wide eyes and puckered lips - holding his hands out in front of him. Hands that were totally purple.
Two words. Grape. Jelly.
I washed his hands and sat him in his room while the bath water was running, as he was somehow sticky all over.
And I followed the trail of purple hand prints on the wall all the way to the small foyer, where I followed the purple foot prints to the kitchen where I discovered the squeezable grape jelly opened and spilled in a giant puddle of ooze.
Sean was still innocently playing in the living room, but I can only assume that he was employing his favorite new hobby - taking things out of the fridge - and had given the jelly to his brother. Who actually got the entire cap off of the bottle? No idea.
Apparently everything - and I mean everything - in my house needs child proof caps.
I mopped and re-mopped and mopped again. And still we have the stickiness.
What do I do? Keep my eyes on them EVERY second of EVERY hour of EVERY day?
Install booby traps in front of key areas?
Hire SuperNanny?
Demolish the house when they turn five and start all over?
Toddlerhood. The best reality show that isn't on television.

To Defer the Implosion of the Earth

So as Sean has grown and acquired the ability to speak, he has developed some very particular habits. He passionately demands that these demands are met - and if not, he acts like I've grown five heads and told him that Blue is out of clues. I'm not sure how normal it is for a three year old to be so picky about things - but his father is sort of the same way, so maybe it's hereditary. I thought I'd let you into the world of keeping Sean un-hysterical...

When giving him anything, be it goldfish or pizza or whatever - he wants five. Five. No more, no less.

If he needs a paper towel, it must be torn cleanly from the roll. If it rips at all, it's declared "broken" and immediately is discarded by his disgusted self into the trash can.

When getting out of the bath, he must stand on the toilet as he is dried off. And as we leave the bathroom, with the towel around him and in my arms, we have to stop and look in the mirror.

After teeth are brushed, they MUST be called 'shiny'.

Ketchup must be served with any and all meat. It's more important than the actual meat itself.

If given a sippy cup, it must be placed on the dresser next to his castle. Otherwise, it will not be consumed.

The face will be kept clean at all times. If he thinks I have food on my face, he will point it out and tell me to get a napkin.

The world will NOT keep spinning if he gets any plate but the yellow one. With the proper spoon and fork, of course.

All toast and sandwiches are required to be made into "Triangles, please Mommy!!! Please!!! Triangles!!!!"

These are the biggest issues, but there are many things that he wants done in a certain way throughout the day. And certain things he won't have anything to do with - moving rides, the mechanical Chuckee Cheese creatures, puppets, people holding him in the air like an airplane - I'm wondering if he'll grow out of this or if he's just a definite type A personality. We'll see. Until then I'll just keep trying to help him keep his world in order.

Late Night Television

Christian woke up at three in the morning on Sunday...he was happy and alert and ready to play. I sure wasn't. To keep myself awake while he rolled his cars around, I turned on the tv - it was already on Sprout, which is a PBS channel for kids. These two shows - Teletubbies and Boohbah - were playing over and over. Apparently, these are the late night shows for tots.

Frightening. How could these creatures not terrify children? They don't even speak - they just bob around squeaking. It's PBS After Dark and it's the stuff of toddler nightmares.

Or, um, maybe just mine.

Those Sweet Kisses

I was in the middle of finishing up some research on the internet this afternoon when Christian woke up from his nap. He was in a good mood, so I sat him in the middle of the living room with his trains and track, which fascinate the boy to no end. I jotted down my final notes in the office without hearing a peep from him, so I figured he was busy with Thomas and company.
And then I went to check on him.
He was sitting in the middle of the foyer on the hardwood with the happiest expression…and my plastic sugar bowl overturned on the floor. He was playing in the pile of sugar, licking his hands and going “mmmm”. He was completely encrusted in sugar and completely ecstatic over his new discovery - sugar is a great toy and tasty.
We headed to the bath.
Of course, this probably would have seemed a lot funnier to me if he hadn’t done the exact same thing yesterday with my French Vanilla Creamer.
I guess he wanted to enforce the lesson I should have learned yesterday - put the coffee accessories back in the cabinet post-coffee!

Sunday

And it’s just what a Sunday should be, clear and fresh, unclouded and easily paced. Sunday is technically the beginning of the new week, but I feel like it is an unnumbered day - hours when the world sort of exhales all the pressures of the week.
My goals for the day are somewhat domestic - we’re having a business reception here at home tomorrow night, so I have cleaning and baking to do. I’m not excited about the cleaning, but I actually enjoy the baking part. It’s a surprise, this interest in cooking. There’s something innately satisfying about taking separate, uncommon ingredients and putting them together to make some food that nourishes or just simply satisfies the taste buds. It’s also a good feeling to call my mom or my grandmother for a recipe - in some small way, making the banana pudding for my boys in the exact same way my Nanny makes it feels like passing down a part of my heritage. Sometimes, a recipe can be much more than just a recipe. It is a rush of security to make something the way my mother makes and it her mother makes it and so on…
Anyway, I am doing the stay-at-home-mom thing. My desk job sort of fazed out with a decrease of business. If someone had said to me when I was in high school that I’d be a stay at home mom of two by the age of twenty-three, I would have laughed. And laughed. And laughed some more. But this is my path, at least for now. Even though things aren’t as I would have predicted, I am still writing and now that I have an internet connection again, I’m able to keep up with the world. I’m not saying that I don’t get stir crazy sometimes - every now and then, as I fill up sippy cups, I’m tempted to hurl them through the kitchen window. I have to keep perspective - that, really, Sean and Christian are the greatest adventure I’ll ever have, no matter what else I manage to achieve in this lifetime. They are my greatest creative achievements. I guess I’m thinking about all of this because with every new year - heck, with every new month - it hits me that the years are quickly passing. And ever since I was a kid, I’ve had this terror of never doing anything that matters, never contributing to this world.
It’s sort of like plot - a story can be character driven or action driven…I want my life to be character driven. I want to choose my life - what I do, what I make of it, the people in it. If I need an official New Year’s Resolution, I guess that’s it - to consciously choose my path this year. I don’t want to be a floater. I want to offer something to the world - whatever else I come up with, I know that I can (hopefully) raise two boys into men that are compassionate and actively working to do something for their own generation.
And this is a good segue into mentioning a blog, written by someone I know is definitely doing a good job of the whole choosing your path thing…Betsy is a TV editor living in NYC, and you can read her witty observations of life here - http://www.humaninspired.blogspot.com/. Check it out - for the way she sees the world and for the way she lives her life, I whole-heartedly admire her, and I know you will too.
So I’m off to the grocery store…and after all of these meaningful things I’ve been pondering, we all know that I’m determined to get back and done with the baking in time to watch 24 and Brothers and Sisters! Such is the American psyche.

Already Smarter Than His Parents

Neil and I are working hard to instill good manners in our boys. I've been drilling the whole "May I" phrase into Sean's vocabulary. So last night when Sean decided he wanted a cookie and pulled his daddy over to the kitchen, this polite conversation ensued:

Neil: Sean, say May -
Sean, dutifully repeating: May I hab-
Neil: A cookie-
Sean: Cookie, please
Neil: Try it all together now. May I have a cookie, please.
Sean: (Looking up wide eyed at his father, all earnest and nodding) Yes, you may.

And it was Oreos all around....

If You Give A Mom A Cookie

This is in the June 2006 edition of Parenting magazine. I LOVE it because it is ABSOLUTELY correct!

If You Give A Mom A Cookie

If you give a mom a cookie,

She's going to want a latte to go with it.

But before she gets a latte, she has to find her toddler's pink ladybug boots.

To find the ladybug boots, she has to venture into the playroom.

When she tries to straighten up the playroom, she finds Daddy's left shoe, the salad bowl, and an open package of graham crackers. She also finds her cell phone.

So she'll yell at her toddler about the cell phone and wake up the baby from his morning nap.

But if she goes to pick up the baby, the cell phone will ring.

When she answers, it'll be the doctor's office reminding her that she had an appointment this morning and would she like to reschedule, say, sometime in November?

While she's trying to mentally re-create her calendar, the baby will start to cry.

Then her toddler will run in to see what's the matter and find the graham crackers.

When she finds the graham crackers, there'll be crumbs all over the playroom.

So the mom will get the broom from the hall closet and notice that Daddy forgot to buy diapers last night, as she asked.

But she will find her toddler's pink ladybug boots.

And when she finds the pink ladybug boots, she'll remember her emergency stash of diapers in the car.

So she'll wrestle her toddler and her baby into their car seats and drive to the store to buy more diapers and milk.

While she's buying the milk, she'll remember that she wanted that latte.

And if she manages to order her latte without a tantrum or poop episode from either of her kids....

Then she's going to need another cookie.

(Inspired by Laura Joffe Numeroff's If You Give A Mouse A Cookie)

Amen and amen.

A Mommy Moment

From the moment I arrived home yesterday and was told that Sean had not yet had his nap, I was in mental preparation. I strategized. Feed the babies, bathe the babies, lure the babies to sleep. They were tired. It would, for once, have to work. Therefore, they were just the cutest doing all of the above. Christian gave me his toothy, appreciative grin with each bite of peaches, every spoonful of rice and broccoli. Sean started the meal with a 'yet's pray' and kept his squinchy smiley face on as he dove into his plate and ate his way back out of it. They were splashy and giggly through bathtime and semi-cooperative as they were wriggled into pajamas. I turned off the light in their bedroom, switched on the nightlight and snuggled Sean into his finding Nemo blanket. And (I admit it) turned on good ol' Monster's Inc. Nothing like a movie about monsters to get my two year old to snoozing. Christian and I sat there by Sean's bed on top of the kiddy table until, sure enough, Sean's hazel eyes closed and he started emitting the heavy breathing, slightly snorish sound that signals his slumber. As a bonus, Christian was rubbing his eyes and looking a little dazed. So I rushed to make him a warm bottle of milk, snuggled him into his bed, and ta da - out like a cute little light.
What to do? Two babies in bed and one mommy alone to do as she wishes. And then it happened. I did exactly what I wanted to do. I made hot chocolate and snuggled into my couch with a blanket and a book. This may not sound earth shattering to most people, but for me...it was like a little slice of heaven right there in my living room. Peace reigning in the house. I'm sure there were angels singing lullabys into my ventilation system.
And for about 15 minutes, that perfect moment endured.
After the 15 minutes? Well....Neil came home for work, I cooked dinner, Christian woke well rested and ready for action, and Sean woke up screaming like he was being attacked by five eyed, horned, winged elephants because he was SO mad to have opened his eyes, and I had to lie down beside of him -our backs touching, but only barely or the screams would reignite - to get him back to sleep. Total peace, total chaos.
As I was rocking Christian, I realized how much more I appreciate those peaceful moments now - and how much I appreciate the chaotic ones. Because as crazy as it might be sometimes, I know that one day these years are gonna' be like that perfect 15 minutes in my memory - and probably, I'm gonna' want them back.

There is nothing like...

~Watching a two year old being alternately afraid and fascinated by cats....touch and run, look and leap!
~eating brownies and criticizing television with your best friend...
~a ten month's old laughter echoing through the house because he is SO thrilled to be standing up beside of his big brother
~that same baby boy being sat in a tiny yellow chair and swinging his feet back and forth like a big kid, so excited!
~ when in the middle of Target, your own child goes boneless so that he is pure, immovable weight and then when you pick him up, screams out 'Help! Help!' Like he is being kidnapped.