tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23554585032450666722024-02-19T02:37:07.613-05:00Blending with BatmanThe adventure of motherhood, marraige, and blending a new family together- and all the craziness that comes with it!Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger36125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2355458503245066672.post-47809184284701808552015-12-03T11:03:00.001-05:002015-12-03T11:03:24.799-05:00Autumn<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga-9nfVkQKMdxiIvZDnBBQTsowmBxodgZp8N2hdzvUTCadzHlVQwoLDgW0YdM7Utqx7Mf2rIA52Bd4wMRyGhsdy_niRUZPCHatsy1zxfsS7AO449xKSifyErsa9TPmY5vCSbVrtym7m0PK/s640/blogger-image--1581557200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga-9nfVkQKMdxiIvZDnBBQTsowmBxodgZp8N2hdzvUTCadzHlVQwoLDgW0YdM7Utqx7Mf2rIA52Bd4wMRyGhsdy_niRUZPCHatsy1zxfsS7AO449xKSifyErsa9TPmY5vCSbVrtym7m0PK/s640/blogger-image--1581557200.jpg"></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2355458503245066672.post-58362431934586451072015-04-27T13:37:00.003-04:002015-04-27T13:39:17.728-04:00To the Stepmother of My Children<div class="MsoNormal">
To the Stepmother of My Children,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am writing to you as the mother figure in my children’s
lives in their dad’s home. Children need
mothers to be nurturing, comforting, and gentle teachers. In fact, the root word for “discipline” is “teach”. The two boys feel very stressed when visiting
their dad for the weekend. They feel
they are barely tolerated and aren’t allowed to make small, normal mistakes
without immediate punishment or constant threats of punishment. They feel they cannot respectfully speak up
for themselves without being told they are “sassing”, when they are people who simply
are trying to be understood. I don’t
know if you and their father truly understand how deeply stressed they
are. They love their father, but have an
extremely difficult time when it is their weekend to be there. Of course there will be some adjustment going
from one household to another, and that is to be expected. And there will always be things about each
household that they don’t like, and that’s normal too. But it has come to be that they are asking
and pleading not to have to go to Indy when it’s their weekend to go. And when they come home, they each break down
sobbing about their time there. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I understand I am only hearing one side of how things are.
This is their perception of how things are, and what they perceive is what their
reality is. What the boys are asking for
is compassion, patience, and respect. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Are they loud?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
YES!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Are they bouncy? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yep. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Can they try our patience simply because they are children?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh yes. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Are they perfect? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nope. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
None of us are. As
children, their brains are still developing, and they are still learning about
the world around them; how things work, how to behave in various situations,
how to read other people, how to handle their emotions. As adults, when we make a mistake, or lose our
patience, what helps us in that moment? Support? Empathy? Understanding? Kind guidance? These
two boys need these also. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The boys did not have a say in their father moving 100 miles
away from them. They really didn’t have a say in whom he chose as a partner and
to share their household. But when they told me that you and their father were
marrying, they were very happy. They
liked you so much and always said how nice you were to them. Those two sweet
boys asked me to teach them how to bake and frost a cake so they could make one
as a gift for you. They’ve never done
that for anyone else. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Being a parent is hard. Being a step parent is hard,
too. You are helping to shape their
childhood and creating memories for them and with them. What kind of memories do
you want to make?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When they are adults and look back on their childhood, how
will they remember their time at home? How will they remember us? How will they
speak of us? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You have such an influence on how these sweet boys grow up. As
the mothers of our households, we truly set the mood for our family. The world
can be a tough place, but we can make their home a safe and comfortable haven. A place to be themselves, make mistakes, and
have a soft place to land. And learn <i>how</i> to do better the next time. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t know if this will affect how the interactions
continue between you, but I needed to speak up on their behalf. My sons are the most precious gifts God could
have ever given to me. I love the way the older one thinks. His imagination and cleverness is out of this
world. He’s ridiculously smart, and has a thirst for knowledge and how things
work. And the younger one is so sweet
and tender-hearted, things affect him deeply. He’s very perceptive to people’s feelings and
extremely compassionate. And SO
funny! He makes me laugh every day, even
when I’m starting to lose my patience with him. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I hope you are able
to enjoy each of them individually for their own unique personality.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
-AM</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2355458503245066672.post-56726310932548530742014-09-25T20:00:00.000-04:002014-09-25T20:00:01.662-04:00A Week in Review, Summer Flashback<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhk6sbVOPACNdx9gMqZWeCF0x9FdXXbRK9WHfNFZAdtWzK1tjYrU1fVuKr9AEUGVANn8nd3kNNHI5ZuTofMmfpIVBTWnGCkHRH-CyWxfDbhIjxdLZGKttU3na47L9PCgTCM7ZmcXu8-xx7/s1600/JulyAug+2014+160.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhk6sbVOPACNdx9gMqZWeCF0x9FdXXbRK9WHfNFZAdtWzK1tjYrU1fVuKr9AEUGVANn8nd3kNNHI5ZuTofMmfpIVBTWnGCkHRH-CyWxfDbhIjxdLZGKttU3na47L9PCgTCM7ZmcXu8-xx7/s1600/JulyAug+2014+160.PNG" height="200" width="112" /></a><br />
So this is an example of how I tend to not finish things. This post was mostly finished, but adding pictures is such a tedious pain, so I put it off. Sigh...this was a week from the end of our summer. We had a lot of fun and took lots of pictures. The main purpose of this blog is to document our joys and frustrations as a blended family. I need to write more. I have a few more "flashback" posts lined up. Until then, know that school is in full swing, and it's hard to believe it's almost October (!).<br />
Enjoy!<br />
<br />
Sunday- A glorious, non-eventful day at the lake. We packed up the cooler and the kids and drove across the state line to a lake. It has a sandy "beach" area, and although we had to clear a path to the water that was free of goose poop, we all had a relaxing day of water, sandwiches, and sun. I actually sat in a chair and did nothing. For more than five minutes straight. I definitely need to do that more often. The kids made their own fun, and almost no one got sunburned (*cough* Batman *cough*).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaFlWMdXiP9dtGOCGUzJWzDopMGvy_zEkvXUQqHJRSXuVEL4-00l2Ll1uh6hpmpFkamh8Du2UnAt7D_bXVviwUfmuwqAwHo5uFdSRwHtJ2LIhLDwOoz-nMzw7fdxEBLZ-7pXXtFGH8SE3B/s1600/JulyAug+2014+234.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaFlWMdXiP9dtGOCGUzJWzDopMGvy_zEkvXUQqHJRSXuVEL4-00l2Ll1uh6hpmpFkamh8Du2UnAt7D_bXVviwUfmuwqAwHo5uFdSRwHtJ2LIhLDwOoz-nMzw7fdxEBLZ-7pXXtFGH8SE3B/s1600/JulyAug+2014+234.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a>Monday- Gabriel asked if we could go to the zoo. We used to have a zoo pass every year. It was wonderful! Our zoo has a small (and super fun) splash park. Perfect for hot summers! And with an annual pass, you don't have to make a day of it. You can pop down for a bit, stay or not stay, because there was always next time. Sometimes we would go once a week. Sometime the summer before last, the boys decided the splash park wasn't quite their thing any more. I was baffled. With the exception of the one chin injury (<a href="http://blendingwithbatman.blogspot.com/2010/06/panic-at-splashpark">Panic! At the Splash Park</a>), I thought it was tons of fun, and that we would get at least a few more years out of it. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXEGNiBgtBTYZm_1uWeVH0gxp4U6ZE0_hXWQhYLdwWAqP2w4Z_A9Mj7Dez0Bw5yAPsNJknNN3sLOf26kweMhWazlzk7NgowJRCu5vmOwnUZsrYkEu5VjKT-GdLw-n8WRjnQtK70nU0LATE/s1600/JulyAug+2014+240.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXEGNiBgtBTYZm_1uWeVH0gxp4U6ZE0_hXWQhYLdwWAqP2w4Z_A9Mj7Dez0Bw5yAPsNJknNN3sLOf26kweMhWazlzk7NgowJRCu5vmOwnUZsrYkEu5VjKT-GdLw-n8WRjnQtK70nU0LATE/s1600/JulyAug+2014+240.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMAOALYA3la6pzWjRtaGy2GzbGlJ4MgDkP3rIX0PjfL7Sj8pfyAEAPI_YItIuRNvqx7J-bCKNo-e7X5MuEkBLG2DmP8BSPBazAvdfvwNdRZ_drd2T2Ij5Am4Xsb-g0jpSx0iclY4CE2h5h/s1600/JulyAug+2014+244.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMAOALYA3la6pzWjRtaGy2GzbGlJ4MgDkP3rIX0PjfL7Sj8pfyAEAPI_YItIuRNvqx7J-bCKNo-e7X5MuEkBLG2DmP8BSPBazAvdfvwNdRZ_drd2T2Ij5Am4Xsb-g0jpSx0iclY4CE2h5h/s1600/JulyAug+2014+244.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a>This was probably the one day we would be going to the zoo this summer. So we made the most of it. We stayed in the shade, caught the mist sprayers when we could, and experienced quite a bit while we were there. Gabriel couldn't wait to see the tigers, everyone wanted to see the polar bears, and feeding the lorikeets was definitely a must. When we were all hot and somehow couldn't find a water fountain, Dippin' Dots saved the day. </div>
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Tuesday- the first day of Julian's middle school orientation. Tours for the parents and team-building activities for the students. It was a good way to be introduced to all the newness that is middle school. The teachers seem really into looking after the students, and want to make sure everyone is adjusted. </div>
<div>
Maddie came over before dinner. And then... and then...</div>
<div>
We saw it. </div>
<div>
The horrible, awful, every swear word I've ever known...nits. In her hair. Lice. <i>Again</i>! </div>
<div>
I can't even describe the rage that consumed me. Poor Maddie, it wasn't her fault. When she came home from camp with lice, we treated her head immediately- before she spent any actual time in the house, and her mom had to handle all of her camp clothes, bedding, etc. Our best guess is it wasn't all obliterated from all her stuff. Then she stopped using the tea tree shampoo, and so here we were, again. </div>
<div>
So the next day and a half were completely spoken for. Batman actually stayed home from work on Wednesday, so we could divide and conquer all the laundry. Was this covered in our marriage vows?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhFTLFPP9rUNJ7VlwRQHJmx6nBWo4pdh2dBudEtWaSqgC0sl5-8wNrh-xPjQ0n_hMZF_zXCx99DYumXKd9WLDydDKWwvCiHd4OevOu2tFSMpkg0PgXa_c2BS3s_OCd5heVZgEb1M_6kn2g/s1600/JulyAug+2014+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhFTLFPP9rUNJ7VlwRQHJmx6nBWo4pdh2dBudEtWaSqgC0sl5-8wNrh-xPjQ0n_hMZF_zXCx99DYumXKd9WLDydDKWwvCiHd4OevOu2tFSMpkg0PgXa_c2BS3s_OCd5heVZgEb1M_6kn2g/s1600/JulyAug+2014+005.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a>Wednesday- the laundry. That is all. Oh wait- Julian had another half day of orientation. I watched as he walked all by himself to the bus stop (He's eleven. I know. I'm a mom. This is what we do). We did make a spontaneous trip to the park. It was beautiful outside. Not too hot, and not at all crowded. Took some great pictures of the kiddos. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyQfegFWwvd7a0o8dPR5BsRnTyQtM9mRekwTK6WUITe7pMuzeFd4P_vRq3KZ2TCMvs6cGJxRZ069MMX-U_zEQ9IEydEayyv9dOXwCxgr_Xr7QMoafPZttfKDEYs3vOP3f8in4GCrKQf1Z-/s1600/JulyAug+2014+339.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyQfegFWwvd7a0o8dPR5BsRnTyQtM9mRekwTK6WUITe7pMuzeFd4P_vRq3KZ2TCMvs6cGJxRZ069MMX-U_zEQ9IEydEayyv9dOXwCxgr_Xr7QMoafPZttfKDEYs3vOP3f8in4GCrKQf1Z-/s1600/JulyAug+2014+339.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtQFZ6OBM-VRSi9L-MnUdAsebF33575ahzNVig34w0ZF3ErLVATsl7-kO-k1kdkbaTL3pvcbCLltIIWG5PETG2-A8nN8X-fFDjynr6M9oA-K2DtTbASSjnxu7Qdbwydu2BHeua36GRV9nX/s1600/JulyAug+2014+294.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtQFZ6OBM-VRSi9L-MnUdAsebF33575ahzNVig34w0ZF3ErLVATsl7-kO-k1kdkbaTL3pvcbCLltIIWG5PETG2-A8nN8X-fFDjynr6M9oA-K2DtTbASSjnxu7Qdbwydu2BHeua36GRV9nX/s1600/JulyAug+2014+294.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi11DqoPBIbCujdpzI-c7Sv6j1r6zSmxkCrXwfSxYfpS-wHqkQk35dbNPsc9lau4zdJdO2LT4bQ2HUSmbu7p1CuZW3c9NlyUMk69jQoaQDZduITMQFIz9aMopguzz_cycPZrKkI96h2TKBT/s1600/JulyAug+2014+335.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi11DqoPBIbCujdpzI-c7Sv6j1r6zSmxkCrXwfSxYfpS-wHqkQk35dbNPsc9lau4zdJdO2LT4bQ2HUSmbu7p1CuZW3c9NlyUMk69jQoaQDZduITMQFIz9aMopguzz_cycPZrKkI96h2TKBT/s1600/JulyAug+2014+335.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2RUGehjQu23vkeSu5-Z-x8tyhe4M08JOCQ16UTmrj61NR3_bqWUd_20QytRFSMJbS15aZu-ObjTkLeaYJ77e056La5hv-CmoUcOig9_iyLfby55ex7t9xDQSydJn2u4qHB2JZB7FrcmMO/s1600/JulyAug+2014+329.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2RUGehjQu23vkeSu5-Z-x8tyhe4M08JOCQ16UTmrj61NR3_bqWUd_20QytRFSMJbS15aZu-ObjTkLeaYJ77e056La5hv-CmoUcOig9_iyLfby55ex7t9xDQSydJn2u4qHB2JZB7FrcmMO/s1600/JulyAug+2014+329.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a> </div>
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Thursday- Julian's 11th birthday! This is the first time he's ever had school on his birthday. Today was an almost-all-day orientation. Fun activities, then a dance party in the gym. He came home happy and worn-out. We had a relaxing afternoon, watched a movie, and enjoyed pizza as a treat for dinner. </div>
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Friday- a work day for me. Batman worked from home and hung out with the boys. They ran some errands, watched some TV, and went out for lunch. I got home and enjoyed some mellow family time before hopping in the car with my boys and driving them to meet their dad. </div>
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Saturday- sleeping in, and a brunch date for Batman and me. Relaxing, lovely...very nice.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2355458503245066672.post-77365350230848138612014-07-24T23:14:00.003-04:002014-07-30T14:24:02.124-04:00Summer DazeThe end of July is here. It's what I call the "leggy" days of summer. The trees are dripping with green, the weeds are long, the corn tall with its leafy stalks. Crepe Myrtle blooms in pinks and purples. The cicadas have been wound and let loose with their creepy, cackling buzz. Black-eyed Susans splash their orange faces across suburban fences. School supplies are appearing on store shelves. These are some of the things I gauge my summers by. Familiar things. Signs I rely on and look forward to, reassuring me that summer is in full swing.<br>
<br>
Some things are changing, though. Against my will, without my permission. Small and subtle, they are the tiny changes that make raising a family a fluid journey- ebbing and flowing with simultaneous familiarity and change.<br>
<br>
My oldest child is entering middle school.<i> Middle school! </i> My sweet boy. I remember middle school as a hellacious misery. His circumstances are different than mine were, and his school seems to be very student-focused, so I am confident his experience will differ from mine.<br>
<br>
His hair is not nearly as blond as it usually gets over the summer. It's staying darker, apparently to match his more noticeable leg hair. His handful of freckles are multiplying. He's growing up, and it's as beautiful to watch as it is difficult to accept.<br>
<br>
Gabriel seems to get taller every day. He is about to start fourth grade. Yikes! He's still cuddly and affectionate, and I love that about him. His face (and his brother's) is still so soft. I make sure and pet their baby-soft skin while I can, because I know in just a few years, stubble and scruff will take over their cherub cheeks. He tries my patience the most, but just about makes up for it with his ridiculous, goofy sense of humor. <div><br></div><div>Maddie is entering seventh grade. She's growing and leggy, but still a kid, which I appreciate. She's all glasses and braces and quite independent. Even so, she's still a daddy's girl, and I love her giggle.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ6MV9pfR3Za38VUuvyuTKZJ5AFADRWQRLswDbRzV0zye4mNDEh0QK3_0WxplOEH9LPbSkQZfQHr6jy7rX_ZZtxrRct8NI1v1x8d0d7AG3IDuZ3TPep5gU6sfDyNQdyX6B3CEupllzogIU/s640/blogger-image--2138989239.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ6MV9pfR3Za38VUuvyuTKZJ5AFADRWQRLswDbRzV0zye4mNDEh0QK3_0WxplOEH9LPbSkQZfQHr6jy7rX_ZZtxrRct8NI1v1x8d0d7AG3IDuZ3TPep5gU6sfDyNQdyX6B3CEupllzogIU/s640/blogger-image--2138989239.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Summer is speeding right by, thrusting us right into the next school year. I'm not ready. I love the slower pace of summer, with the entire day ahead of us. What will we do today? Stay home? Go out for an adventure? Create our own adventure here at home? Make plans, but change our mind at the last minute? Unexpectedly let the kids stay up late because we feel like it? Really late, just this once? Because it's summer? Pleeeeaaaase? </div><div><br></div><div>I love saying yes. I relish being a fun mom. I get to say yes more during the summer, and we make so many beautiful memories together. The end of summer (and many times during a hectic part of the school year) always makes me reconsider if we could pull off homeschooling. It's not going to work for us anytime soon, and I suppose it just makes us grateful for the more relaxed summer, yet appreciative of the routine that the school year brings. </div><div><br></div><div>At this moment, we are all outside and the kids have decided on a water gun fight! The weather is gorgeous, and everyone is getting along and having fun. We have no schedule, no errands, no pressures. I am ignoring the laundry and vacuuming, and just enjoying being outside. I'm loving every second of it!<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbvZu4N5DkF8-bqRpokPB-5Y0yZbdxI9zTk76aB5mlqVe8Lm0ClXmqRxOU28Ax_SpelMHdG5Inot3bHxtj0pXT7P5JYclkzP1GIrHUq118yorGHpQ-ikHr5Fgh_cRT2UPuQtq9GSJEyxN4/s640/blogger-image--1510423148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbvZu4N5DkF8-bqRpokPB-5Y0yZbdxI9zTk76aB5mlqVe8Lm0ClXmqRxOU28Ax_SpelMHdG5Inot3bHxtj0pXT7P5JYclkzP1GIrHUq118yorGHpQ-ikHr5Fgh_cRT2UPuQtq9GSJEyxN4/s640/blogger-image--1510423148.jpg"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbvZu4N5DkF8-bqRpokPB-5Y0yZbdxI9zTk76aB5mlqVe8Lm0ClXmqRxOU28Ax_SpelMHdG5Inot3bHxtj0pXT7P5JYclkzP1GIrHUq118yorGHpQ-ikHr5Fgh_cRT2UPuQtq9GSJEyxN4/s640/blogger-image--1510423148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaUY4zWt3LlyMBbnBjBZVOIt3mi3SZ0iuEDbMH-jZl1n4eNPw_Wp8K14CrghJvlpU1EUS07rfteiu7Ew0i4K9bK3u1hqgg_WOHQPFJRB_cT6B6v08Yh2zNiYafyFEEKGMvdpzHU41dTlFu/s640/blogger-image--1250082681.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaUY4zWt3LlyMBbnBjBZVOIt3mi3SZ0iuEDbMH-jZl1n4eNPw_Wp8K14CrghJvlpU1EUS07rfteiu7Ew0i4K9bK3u1hqgg_WOHQPFJRB_cT6B6v08Yh2zNiYafyFEEKGMvdpzHU41dTlFu/s640/blogger-image--1250082681.jpg"></a></div></div></div><div>
<br></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2355458503245066672.post-64944141426071258502014-06-12T15:30:00.001-04:002014-06-12T15:34:52.236-04:00A Week(-ish) in Review...This week:<br />
<br />
A tree branch stole my sunglasses right off of my head.<br />
My car tire rolled through some fresh tar. Now it's covered in gravel and debris and goes <i>thump</i> <i>thump thump</i> as I drive down the road.<br />
A cucumber fell out of my grocery bag and onto the lawn.<br />
Gabriel made me laugh.<br />
Batman was a butt.<br />
Batman apologized with cheesecake.<br />
Julian broke his wrist.<br />
Julian got a really cool cast.<br />
Gabriel wants a buzz cut. He may be getting one later today.<br />
I had a mini meltdown trying to be everyone and everywhere all at the same time.<br />
I bought extra tissues for Julian's last day of elementary school.<br />
I packed all the lunches, made all the dinners, signed all the forms, and did all the dishes.<br />
Except for last night, when Batman did them.<br />
I had insomnia twice.<br />
The other night, the sky had a strange yellow glow to it.<br />
I found a Sharpie in the dryer.<br />
And a Lego guy.<br />
And a rock.<br />
And a dollar.<br />
And a plastic bag.<br />
My oldest child finished elementary school.<br />
I survived the above without Xanax.<br />
I realized there's no fighting Gabriel's musical side and <i>everything</i> in the house will always be a drum.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2355458503245066672.post-69326675018191534272014-05-16T16:00:00.000-04:002014-05-19T20:45:46.271-04:00Busy Spring!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Spring is here! It's been a busy few<strike> weeks</strike> months. Lots of school papers. Some mild illness. Homework. Bickering. Talking back. Food preparation. Cleaning. Work. Errands. Schedule juggling... is this really 40? There are days I think homeschooling the children would be more effective, then there are others where I believe it would be pointless. The bickering is driving me crazy. Gabriel was in a tree at the playground the other day, and Julian grabbed his shoe- right off of his foot. There was name calling and who knows what else. When Julian was told to give it back (after much shrieking from his brother), he hurled it only vaguely in Gabriel's general direction. This, of course, resulted in more shrieking from Gabriel. I suppose if this had been a TV episode, it might have been funny. This kind of thing has been far too common lately, so it really wasn't funny, just exhausting.<br />
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Gabriel found a raccoon skull while at his father's, and was thoughtful enough to leave it on my pillow. Have I mentioned how much I love having boys? And I don't mean that sarcastically. A raccoon skull on my pillow is parenting gold. Gabriel got the idea from his brother, who a few months ago first put a raccoon skull on my pillow. He snuck it there just before bed, then asked me in the morning why he didn't hear me scream when I saw it. I told him it startled me, but I think he was expecting a TV reaction, not a real-life one. <br />
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Julian is eating and eating and eating. Growth spurt! Fortunately, most of what he snacks on is fresh fruit and second helpings of (mostly) nutritious meals. I think I will measure all three kiddos tomorrow and see how much they've all grown (<span style="color: purple;">update- Julian has grown over 2" since January!</span>).<br />
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Gabriel participated in a track meet the other night. He did well and had so much fun! It's an annual event, so I'm sure we will be going next year as well.<br />
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Julian is part of a Lego robotics team for his school. They competed at the state level and came in second for their category. I know he will enjoy the robotics program next year in middle school (sniff!).<br />
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Maddie is enjoying her art class. They work with a variety of media and techniques. Her school posts her class work on a website so family can see what she's creating. That would have been so neat when I was in school.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcP6ybmc_KPHpsb4SHwL_9T85MQtnXPs2vZ9NeC51Li6S1i28p2_bMqDwpBDeP1ur2ArGNoCNtA1vkPjsc4SR4TtrBdCyvR2-2z81Pt7pcmLeBSLnhGveITosD7cT_Qx1IkXgu77kyfPLy/s1600/Spring+2014+213.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcP6ybmc_KPHpsb4SHwL_9T85MQtnXPs2vZ9NeC51Li6S1i28p2_bMqDwpBDeP1ur2ArGNoCNtA1vkPjsc4SR4TtrBdCyvR2-2z81Pt7pcmLeBSLnhGveITosD7cT_Qx1IkXgu77kyfPLy/s1600/Spring+2014+213.PNG" height="320" width="180" /></a>The school year is winding down. I can't believe how fast the time has zipped by. The boys are signed up for a week of Camp Hi Ho, which is really exciting. Maddie has nine days of summer break before heading off to her month-long sleep-away camp. She had a blast last year, even though we missed her bunches. I'm really looking foreword to a fun, relaxing summer. And more help from the kids. Oh yes. <br />
<br />
I took a week off from work to get some projects done around the house. I have certainly accomplished a<em> lot</em>. I treated myself to a coffee date to catch up with a friend yesterday. It was lovely. Another friend reminded me that I should really take time for me today, and do something nice for myself. I just took a walk with the dog- yes! We got a dog! More on her later. So I think I will get some lunch and go do something fun!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2355458503245066672.post-39581826200136476002014-05-02T18:12:00.000-04:002014-05-02T18:12:18.843-04:00Thank Goodness for the Escape Hatch! Out of the clear blue, Gabriel asked, "How are kittens born?"<br />
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I smiled and told him pretty much the way babies are born.<br />
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He frowned and worriedly asked, "So they have to have their tummies cut open?".<br />
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I sighed to myself before answering. Despite all of my preparation and determination to experience natural childbirth, my children were both delivered by completely unavoidable cesarean deliveries. I thought I had done an excellent job of explaining that while sometimes things don't go as planned and a mommy has to have an operation where the doctor can get the baby out, most mommies are able to push and push their babies out. Their bodies are designed to do this.<br />
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I smiled at Gabriel. I reassured him that mommy cats can push their babies out just like human mommies.<br />
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"Out their bottom?"<br />
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I explained (again) that just like there is a way for pee to come out, grown up ladies have a way for babies to come out. You know, in the same general area. I reminded him that's the usual way, but he and his brother took the "side door".<br />
<br />
"Or sometimes, I tell people you took the emergency escape hatch."<br />
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"Oh good," Gabriel says, looking relieved. "Because <i>that </i>is <i>not </i>the first thing I wanted to see."<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2355458503245066672.post-82148586681078253942014-04-04T15:55:00.001-04:002014-04-04T15:55:32.670-04:00Aquarium or Bust! Bust! Saturday was the first official day of spring break. It was a rainy morning. Batman was feeling spontaneous and thought we should hit the road and take the kids to the aquarium. It's an hour and a half away, perfect for a day trip. We ate breakfast and kept the aquarium a secret. We told the kids to get dressed and get ready to run some errands. Dodging raindrops, we piled into Batman's roomy SUV. <br />
<br />
Eventually, the kids began to wonder where exactly we were going. We put them off a few times, but they were persistent. When they absolutely <em>had</em> to know, we played Twenty Questions and they guessed on the very last question.<br />
<span id="goog_1244304539"></span><span id="goog_1244304540"></span><br />
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A quick stop for a late lunch near the aquarium made us realize it was quite a bit chillier than at home. And it was still raining. We navigated the parking lot and finally made it to the actual building. We figured it wouldn't be too crowded; after all, it was late afternoon and wouldn't most people be headed the opposite direction toward Florida?<br />
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We were (in the words of Tabatha Coffey) <em>gobsmacked</em> at the ridiculously long line. Batman stood in line while the kids and I took cover under an awning. It was pretty chilly and still raining. We all had worn spring jackets but they were not enough. The much lower temperatures really caught us off-guard. And there was my hubby, standing in line wearing short sleeves, getting pelted by nearly-frozen raindrops. After a few minutes, I took the kids and guiltily ducked into a little candy store nearby for warmth. I watched my hubby move very very slowly through the line. <br />
<br />
And then he called me. They were only letting a few people at a time into the aquarium because they were already at capacity. He was still a good half-hour from even getting tickets, and even then our tickets would have an entrance time on them- a half-hour or hour from when we actually had the tickets in hand. Yikes. Even if all that worked out, we were still cutting it close on time- the aquarium was due to close in an hour and a half. We wouldn't have as much time as we would like. What to do? Disappoint the kiddos? Wait it out in the rain, gambling with our time?<br />
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I gave the kids the scoop. And you know what? They really impressed me. They all voted that we should come back when the weather was nicer or at the very least, we would have more time to wander through and enjoy ourselves. As disappointed as I was about missing out on all the aquarium had to offer, I was really proud of my kids for making a mature decision. And so willingly!<br />
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We freed my hubby from the line. He joined us in the candy shop. We rewarded the kids by letting them choose a fun treat and headed home. A simple dinner of warm soup and gooey grilled cheese sandwiches warmed us up. A cozy evening on the couch with a movie has ended our day nicely. A relaxing family day together with easy-going children and a few laughs was a wonderful way to begin our spring break. The entire week is ahead of us, and the best part- we still have an exciting trip to the aquarium to look forward to!<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2355458503245066672.post-43227216645234943722014-03-19T11:00:00.004-04:002014-03-19T11:00:44.301-04:00We're back!I am going to skip all the lamenting about how long it's been since I've posted last, how much this upsets me, and how most of our little stories have simply landed on Facebook. That will change right now.<br />
<br />
The kids are midway through their school year despite <strike>ten</strike><i> eleven </i>snow days. Maddie has started middle school, and it's going well. Gabriel has had a bit of a tricky time in third grade, socially. Some tweaking of his behavior has been needed, but I think we are over the hump now. Julian is in his last year of elementary school, which my brain can hardly grasp. He's preparing for a week-long field trip a few hours away (ok, <i>I'm</i> preparing. He will be fine). He's really growing up. They all are.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_6BcTPWbbYGD6i56IoXOtamoSTLnqbNQ-75QXqK8YbjU4LtOnQGjXzUlHfU0Oef0gBkSoyhhyphenhyphenubblFH-bSvuWWPzQSoBGfUXJbAT4gXUZDwBnfhu7brcnp2SAFhXKxSK8phHtrC2WjLzi/s1600/2013-11-09+2013-11-19+001+062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_6BcTPWbbYGD6i56IoXOtamoSTLnqbNQ-75QXqK8YbjU4LtOnQGjXzUlHfU0Oef0gBkSoyhhyphenhyphenubblFH-bSvuWWPzQSoBGfUXJbAT4gXUZDwBnfhu7brcnp2SAFhXKxSK8phHtrC2WjLzi/s1600/2013-11-09+2013-11-19+001+062.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a>Part of me wants to go back in time and freeze them at the preschool age. Such a cute age, always curious, always asking questions (so many questions!), and satisfied with some basic explanations, most of the time made up on the spot. I remember being impressed with my own improv skills.<br />
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It's so much fun to watch them grow, however. Gabriel's questions and the things he worries about. Julian and his imagination- he was pondering aloud the other day, and the concept he was talking about pretty much blew my mind. I almost don't want to even mention it, because one day I believe it will make an excellent book premise. They're each discovering their own talents and interests, and it's always an adventure.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIXAPUyTZr7hihZXz2L27t5CRj0pcgLWDLQJsiqaUuAr40AxJ6W508Xu2MkxGbDx_GL7BCPDGYmsConvH7xdbi9tt_PoZUZfjNIRnyr5JcS-4w4HfLfqnrmFioeSkbvVH-A7vdH5-l7Isq/s1600/272.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIXAPUyTZr7hihZXz2L27t5CRj0pcgLWDLQJsiqaUuAr40AxJ6W508Xu2MkxGbDx_GL7BCPDGYmsConvH7xdbi9tt_PoZUZfjNIRnyr5JcS-4w4HfLfqnrmFioeSkbvVH-A7vdH5-l7Isq/s1600/272.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIXAPUyTZr7hihZXz2L27t5CRj0pcgLWDLQJsiqaUuAr40AxJ6W508Xu2MkxGbDx_GL7BCPDGYmsConvH7xdbi9tt_PoZUZfjNIRnyr5JcS-4w4HfLfqnrmFioeSkbvVH-A7vdH5-l7Isq/s1600/272.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIXAPUyTZr7hihZXz2L27t5CRj0pcgLWDLQJsiqaUuAr40AxJ6W508Xu2MkxGbDx_GL7BCPDGYmsConvH7xdbi9tt_PoZUZfjNIRnyr5JcS-4w4HfLfqnrmFioeSkbvVH-A7vdH5-l7Isq/s1600/272.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a><br />
We spent Thanksgiving in Florida, and it was magical. So many family members, the beach, and weird crow thieves that steal Splenda packets off of outdoor cafe tables.<br />
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Julian has been accepted to the Montessori Magnet program at Westport Middle. They have individual work plans for each student. Julian will thrive in the robotics program they offer. Maddie is enjoying art classes there.<br />
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Gabriel is making up his own jokes- What do you find at the back end of a duck? A butt-quack!<br />
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Legos, books, and Minecraft dominate most conversations around here. So.Much.Minecraft!<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiDL2CrYfRIfY0zL45D7MbEh-6TxgQoGdP1-0lS8KRr1LBqCPaUcg5d9v2nWP4pgKbMTmRj5suy7t3rYnCM2oX7RBOBttqflcTJzEm14BzaEFjnWXpO8mk6lYyhFXOqg6ycP5A_ERFring/s1600/2013-06-11+2013-09-29+001+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiDL2CrYfRIfY0zL45D7MbEh-6TxgQoGdP1-0lS8KRr1LBqCPaUcg5d9v2nWP4pgKbMTmRj5suy7t3rYnCM2oX7RBOBttqflcTJzEm14BzaEFjnWXpO8mk6lYyhFXOqg6ycP5A_ERFring/s1600/2013-06-11+2013-09-29+001+006.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Julian's ice cream flavor (that Gabriel helped create) is back at The Comfy Cow. It's such a successful flavor that they've added it permanently into the rotation.<br />
<br />
I cannot believe the fourth day of March was another snow day. It's been quite an adventurous winter, weather-wise. We have relished the snow, cozy fireplace time, and hot chocolate. But it's March, and we are ready for spring! Bring on the warm temperatures, sunshine, green grass, blooming trees, fragrant flowers, fresh dirt, buzzing bees, fireflies, grilled dinners, sunscreen, sidewalk chalk, swimming pools, shorts and sandals, neighborhood walks, playtime at the park, longer evenings and sleeping in. We are ready!<br />
<br />
Aimee<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2355458503245066672.post-86970962717218475652013-07-03T19:00:00.000-04:002014-04-04T15:56:35.223-04:00Mother of the YearToday I am being completely obnoxious, and am awarding myself <br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Mother of the Year</span></strong>. <br />
I am giving myself this award for <strong>Showing Kindness Where It Is Not Deserved</strong>, for<strong> Sucking It Up and Taking The High Road</strong>, for <strong>Infinite Patience in Circumstances I Thought I Would Never Find Myself</strong> <strong>In</strong> (I know, I know. It's "in which I would never find myself". Whatever.).<br />
<br />
Is this my first time being awarded<strong> Mother of the Year</strong>? Oh no. I've been nominated and awarded this to myself many times over the years. <br />
<br />
Those long nights, pacing the floor, swaying, patting, shushing, and nursing on very little broken sleep. Enduring countless episodes of baby spit up for five months straight. Finding a job to support my beautiful babies after my husband financially devastated us, then left me. That one time I had my sick two-year-old (and his ten-month-old brother) at the doctor's office and she very sweetly told me I would be going home, packing an overnight bag for my son and for myself, and to take him to the children's hospital. He had pneumonia, and I "slept" next to him through the night while the IV worked it's magic. Those long days of teething and tantrums. The times during the public meltdowns of one or both toddlers, when I would smile at onlookers and say, "Don't forget your birth control!" and scoop my little ones up to go home for a nap...<br />
<br />
Today is different though. My boys are a bit older, so the things that require more of me have changed. This time, my oldest declares he wants me to teach him how to bake a cake. I am thrilled! We used to bake together often when they were toddlers and loved it! The past few years find me pleading for them to work with me on cupcakes or cookies. They sort of start to help me out, but get distracted and wander off, leaving me to do the work. They just want me to let them know when the treats are ready. That's just not as much fun for me.<br />
<br />
But Julian wants to learn to bake on his own, and I excitedly tell him he is certainly old enough. Then he explains he wants to make a cake for his dad and his bride-to-be. As a gift. His brother wants to make his own, also. Ah.<br />
<br />
Ok. So we are making cake. Yes, I will teach them, but their cake must be all their own. And while at Target, I show them all the pretty wedding cards. I ask if they want to pick one out to congratulate their dad and his fiancé. They do! They each choose just the right one. Then they choose a gift card for them. Look at me, being the bigger person! I mentally pat myself on the back. <br />
<br />
This may be normal for some divorced families, but certainly not over here. This is all very groundbreaking. I mean, it was only a decade ago that I was huge and round and nearing the delivery of my firstborn. Had someone whispered in my ear that before my child's tenth birthday, I would be married to someone else and helping my boys choose a wedding gift for their dad, no way would I have believed it. Their father barely speaks to me. Ever.There are no kindnesses extended, nothing like that. I am always biting my tongue, taking the high road, doing what's best for my children.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQAWVfT9mt9Hz-N-ItCyhzNGOM-eAUpFkrBBZEQgxPJt2LO_uFW8MvEi4voc3OwSA4LOPwGV53PRnRwD5TvXLuIO70BcD7zbXV7JYkQ6dOausPkF6_tl1eqVHJuV24N1T7ksc_Py_5dr2E/s166/julian+cake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQAWVfT9mt9Hz-N-ItCyhzNGOM-eAUpFkrBBZEQgxPJt2LO_uFW8MvEi4voc3OwSA4LOPwGV53PRnRwD5TvXLuIO70BcD7zbXV7JYkQ6dOausPkF6_tl1eqVHJuV24N1T7ksc_Py_5dr2E/s166/julian+cake.jpg" /></a>So we now have made all the cakes. We choose and buy frosting. Now we need boxes to transport them in. Then Julian wants a small bride and groom to top his cake. It's hard to find anything at a reasonable price. We try to get creative. We are in a time crunch. I've spent much of my time and energy on helping each boy bake their very own cake. And frost. And the dishes. And he really, really wants a bride a groom for his cake. I am so over the whole cake thing. But this is important to my child. And in a year from now, what's going to matter most? So my child gets the bride and groom that he wants (I feel a teensy bit better when I find a coupon for it). He is happy. That's really all that matters.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheTVE-bIH_KgUypEyGPbeBemi592jWAgimf5zDmwHMSNyjCkZoZ3BkRy52JhN9SwyRYMPbgbgYifFWaovRcLyvzVSRGfwhq7nSYgGyGp8CKNflGsA1Xyk2lb6Jdcdx1fh8MqieArqXFkdu/s166/Gabriel+cake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheTVE-bIH_KgUypEyGPbeBemi592jWAgimf5zDmwHMSNyjCkZoZ3BkRy52JhN9SwyRYMPbgbgYifFWaovRcLyvzVSRGfwhq7nSYgGyGp8CKNflGsA1Xyk2lb6Jdcdx1fh8MqieArqXFkdu/s166/Gabriel+cake.jpg" /></a>The boys both did beautiful jobs with their cakes. They are so proud to discover how capable they are. It shows in their faces. <br />
<br />
Knowing I helped each child create and give the gift they wanted to their father makes me a better mother. I left all pettiness aside, because this isn't about me or my ex. It's all about the boys.<br />
<br />
So for all the single parents, divorced parents, step parents, working parents, at-home parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and guardians. For all of those moments when you Sucked It Up and Took The High Road, Held Your Tongue when you wanted to say something snarky, Did The Right Thing even though it wasn't fair, Kept It To Yourself for the sake of your children, and Acted Out Of Love for the sake of your beautiful babies, I also award you <strong>Mother of the Year</strong>.<br />
Now pat yourself on the back. Hug your babies, no matter their age. No reward could possibly be greater.<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2355458503245066672.post-9729157937252271512013-04-23T20:38:00.000-04:002014-04-04T15:58:14.141-04:00Bicycle! Bicycle!<span style="font-family: inherit;">I was the only one in my family of five without a bike to ride. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Until today. <br />
<br />Riding my bike when I was younger was <em>fun</em>. I had an orange Huffy with a banana seat. It had a white plastic basket with various colors of plastic daisies decorating it. My friends and I would ride around the neighborhood, toting our favorite little things in the baskets, and occasionally falling and skinning our knees. <br />
<br />As a mom, I now watch my children conquer their fears and experience the freedom that comes with mastering the skills of riding a bike. They all pretty much have the bike thing down, even Julian, my reluctant bike rider. He is nearly ten years old and just yesterday finally admitted how much fun he's having. He is also nursing a skinned and bruised elbow, but I don't think it will deter him. <br />
<br />My hubby is so stoked for us to go bike riding together as a family. He has been anticipating this since the day we said "I do" in our new home together. After four summers of hard work, falls, skinned elbows, tears, encouragement and frustration, we finally have all three kids comfortable and confident on their bikes. Only one thing was missing: a bike for me. <br />
<br />After searching Craigslist and various stores, we go to Target to find a bicycle for me- my first in over twenty years. I know what style I want: what I call an "old lady bike". One with a lower, wide seat (for my sort-of wide seat) and higher handle bars. Hubby says I need gears. I joke about wantng a basket with a puppy inside. With those criteria, we check out a few of the selection. <br />
<br />And then he sees it. <br />
<br />And then I see it. <br />
<br />It's the style I want. <br />
<br />It is an obnoxious shade of pink. <br />
<br />With flowers. <br />
<br />And fenders. <em>Fenders!</em><br />
<br />And a basket. <br />
<br />Hubby gets it down for me and I try it out. The front part of the seat is tilted bizarrely upward, but I look and am convinced it can be tilted down. <br />
<br />The ten-year-old me is giddy with excitement over the possibility of going home with this bike. The thirty-something mom me wonders if I should choose something more...dignified. If that's a word one would ever use to describe a bicycle. <br />
<br />My husband spots a different bike. It is definitely a more subdued color- a deep, matte plum. The seat is smaller, and it has shocks, which kind of freak me out as I hop on to feel it out. The handle bars aren't quite where I would like them, but Batman shows me how they can adjust. <br />
<br />Both bikes have their pluses and minuses. The "practical" one is more expensive. I worry about my tendency to choose impractically based on what's pretty or sparkly. Straddling the ridiculously pink bike, I ask Batman if I will look silly riding this one. <br />
<br />"Yes", he says, without hesitating. <br />
<br />He is smiling, but he voices his honest opinion. <br />
<br />And then it happens. <br />
<br />A gentleman about a generation older than me walks by, sees me straddling the Ridiculous Pink Bike, smiles, and says:<br />
<br />
"That thing come with a bell?"<br />
<br />He laughs. Batman laughs. I laugh. <br />
<br />I bury my head in my arm, laughing, turning red. I am simultaneously amused and embarrassed. I am mentally transformed into the young teenager who was cruelly teased so often for everything and nothing at all. Still laughing and still embarrassed, I tell Batman I will get the <em>other</em> bike. The sensible-for-a-thirty-something-mother-of-three bike.<br />
<br />"That really did it for you?" he asks, amused. "That really cinched your decision?"<br />
<br />I nod. I once again try out the practical bike. I'm not convinced the handle bars can be adjusted the way I want. And I'm frowning.<br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And then I know. <br />
<br />I look my husband in the eyes and tell him I am nearly forty years old and I don't care what anyone thinks- I will ride whatever bike I want. I will ride around our neighborhood on whatever bike makes me happy. And today that bike is Ridiculously Pink and has a basket and fenders.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And it makes me happy. <br />
<br />My husband smiles at me. <br />
<br />"That's my girl."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2355458503245066672.post-4561339016493182232013-02-28T13:55:00.000-05:002013-02-28T13:58:51.646-05:00Scared the daylights out of me!<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); color: #631854; font-family: Palatino-Roman; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px; text-align: left;">It's February. But it's also Kentucky, so it rained overnight. In the wee hours of the morning, an enormous BOOM! woke me from my sleep.</span><br />
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); color: #631854; font-family: Palatino-Roman; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px; text-align: left;">
Heart pounding, I sat up in bed. A few low rumblings followed as I waited to hear small footsteps approach my bedroom. The steps never came, no knocking on my door. I fell back to sleep to the dripping of the rain, but no more thunder.</div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); color: #631854; font-family: Palatino-Roman; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); color: #631854; font-family: Palatino-Roman; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px; text-align: left;">
A few hours later, the cloudy day greeted my family. I asked Gabriel if he even heard the giant, loud BOOM! of thunder. Surprisingly, he did. He said he had thought about coming to my room, but decided he would just cover his head with his pillow if he heard another. </div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); color: #631854; font-family: Palatino-Roman; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); color: #631854; font-family: Palatino-Roman; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px; text-align: left;">
"It was SO loud", I said. "It scared the daylights out of me."</div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); color: #631854; font-family: Palatino-Roman; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); color: #631854; font-family: Palatino-Roman; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px; text-align: left;">
Gabriel replied, "You mean the <i>night</i> lights, Mom. It scared the night lights out of you. Cause it happened during the night."</div>
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); color: #631854; font-family: Palatino-Roman; font-size: 17px; line-height: 23px; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
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Ah, yes. That's what I meant.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2355458503245066672.post-25855586094628946562013-01-21T11:46:00.000-05:002013-02-28T13:59:47.769-05:00New Post, Chicken Host!Remember that joke from when you were a kid that goes like this-<br />
"Guess what?"<br />
"What?"<br />
"That's what, chicken butt!"<br />
<br />
Well Gabriel has learned this joke much sooner than I learned it. Like all jokes, it was cute the first time. <br />
This has now morphed into an entire lifestyle for Gabriel.<br />
And us.<br />
Every. Single. Answer. from Gabriel now goes like this:<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9yeMLTNXsLuATYzszlm4k-78IuHmnhHGm4t3RPFhOp4srgakxGE2h2XVzB2cf0Vw5y6A2vnfC2bpS1xN9UajEIBDCFl4asfJiCqXANHvGYESG89okD0meikMFaO_v-bAD2Nffuqg1vAVq/s1600/chicken+hair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9yeMLTNXsLuATYzszlm4k-78IuHmnhHGm4t3RPFhOp4srgakxGE2h2XVzB2cf0Vw5y6A2vnfC2bpS1xN9UajEIBDCFl4asfJiCqXANHvGYESG89okD0meikMFaO_v-bAD2Nffuqg1vAVq/s320/chicken+hair.jpg" width="318" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"No fair, chicken hair!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
"What, chicken butt?"<br />
<br />
"I don't know, chicken toe."<br />
<br />
"But why, chicken thigh?"<br />
<br />
"That's fine, chicken spine."<br />
<br />
"Guess who, chicken poo?"<br />
"Why not, chicken spot?"<br />
<br />
"Go fish, chicken wish."<br />
<br />
"Ugh, chicken thug."<br />
<br />
"Yes, chicken mess."<br />
<br />
"No thanks, chicken spanks."<br />
<br />
"No fair, chicken hair!"<br />
<br />
"No it's not, chicken snot."<br />
<br />
"Goodnight, chicken fight."<br />
<br />
That's the end, chicken friend.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2355458503245066672.post-56083227468596016832013-01-18T10:55:00.001-05:002013-02-28T13:59:47.771-05:00Live long and...what?Oh my.<br />
It seems I've been complete negligent in my blogging.<br />
The adventures of our summer, going back to school, and winter break have all been relegated to several fleeting Facebook updates.<br />
<br />
I wanted more than that.<br />
<br />
School is going well for the kiddos. Gabriel managed to break his arm at the school skating night. Frankly, I'm surprised it took him seven years before he wound up in a cast. He handled it all beautifully, and I'm impressed by how quickly he adapted to life as a southpaw for awhile.<br />
<br />
All three children have recently lost grandmothers. Maddie's mom recently married and the boys' dad has moved. Again. After seven years, he finally has a place of his own. Batman and I continue to strive to be the constant in their lives. It's important to us that even with the frequent changes that happen in their other households that we keep our routines, maintain stability, and try to be the balance they need. He and I both struggle with how things are handled with our exes (regarding the children, that is. After all, they are the only reason we still have to interact with them). We address things when needed, and just do our best for our children in our home. I am learning that much of co-parenting is knowing when to speak up and know when to let it go. It's hard, because we love our children more than anything in the universe, and we only want the best for them.<br />
<br />
We have a newish bedtime routine. For the first time in my boys' sweet little lives, I am required to check for monsters under the bed. There never are any monsters. What they don't know is they should be afraid of what's <i>really</i> under the bed.<br />
Cat hair. Dust bunnies. Random Lego pieces. Stray blankets. Pennies. Paper scraps. Stuffed animals who have either lost their way or are diving for cover. <br />
And they have to <i>see </i>me check under the bed. There's no convincing them I peeked real fast while they weren't looking.<br />
Then there's the Spock thing. I have to make the Vulcan hand sign thingy, and pronounce, "May The Force be with you."<br />
Wait...what?<br />
Yes, my boys have combined their Star Trek and Star Wars geekiness.<br />
I have added "Live long and prosper." while I do the Spock thing. <br />
It just feels right. <br />
Then I wish The Force with them. Especially for good dreams. <br />
Then I blow them each kisses. Gabriel requires an even number of kisses. Just because.<br />
I remind them a thousand times to <i>whisper!</i><br />
I wish them good dreams again. I tell them I love them.<br />
Then I tell Gabriel "I love you bunches and bunches".<br />
Just so he can reply, "I love you one bunches more."<br />
Sigh.... I just love my boys.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2355458503245066672.post-44278521002441439932012-06-04T10:06:00.002-04:002012-06-04T10:09:34.598-04:00The Importance of Keys<div style="text-align: left;">
So it's time to play a bit of catch-up. Several posts are lined up, all waiting in my brain's cue to be completed. They are taking up too much precious space in my over-taxed mommy brain, so I need to get them down in writing. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We will start with: Keys!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
One thing you should know about me: I never lose my keys.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Never. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
This is simply because I am exactly the kind of person who loses their keys. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Over the years, I have forced myself to always, always, <em>always</em> put my keys in the same place, so there is no chance I will absent-mindedly drop them somewhere, only to have to retrace my steps when it's time to leave the house again. Keeping this in mind, picture a chilly February morning. The kids and Batman are out the door, off to school and work. I am dashing around the house getting ready to leave for work myself. I've had my coffee, and am ready to head out. I've even left a few extra minutes in case I get caught by the train. I check my purse for my keys. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
They're not there. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<em>Weird</em>, I think.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I go to grab them off the counter.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Not there either. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Seriously?</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The day before had been so busy, I hadn't even been in other parts of the house. I looked and looked, rearranging a small stack of papers I hadn't touched in days. I glance at the clock, become a bit panicked, and start digging through the couch cushions, knowing they aren't there.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I checked the clock again. Was I really going to have to call my boss, saying I would be late because I couldn't find my keys? It was getting more absurd by the moment, and I began to suspect my children were involved. One six-year-old in particular.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I call my boss.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I blame my kids.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I looked and looked, and don't ask why I even thought to look here, probably because it was the only four square inches of space I hadn't checked already.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
But after <em>40 minutes,</em> here is where I found them: </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7k7SH2FdkGUhwgs1R9f6V1vOMrP5_QlCnu9SVf6wC75lpREraNN3t1j81Ygol7h2ET8hXWfsNe6uSepIO5LwSwaGLo5JGdy1-M26W0gN3Gi0GphnXuM_rqhADcmXSQrRzx0Mvqqp5811J/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7k7SH2FdkGUhwgs1R9f6V1vOMrP5_QlCnu9SVf6wC75lpREraNN3t1j81Ygol7h2ET8hXWfsNe6uSepIO5LwSwaGLo5JGdy1-M26W0gN3Gi0GphnXuM_rqhADcmXSQrRzx0Mvqqp5811J/s1600/photo.JPG" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
What? You don't see them? They're <em>right there.</em></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ6lAZNK4Cf2Pnj_VyiehE97zHTVqth_bZKQi8jyJxgfUEDHZSPz6mX5V5wPK6F1jA6x6uCBQlBg4xeUjrhWMwtWX8x8izIyePRWSKh_a8Sm1ZtEOybCfjmWgxVP-p38KUFtIslpknJoyc/s1600/tisuues.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ6lAZNK4Cf2Pnj_VyiehE97zHTVqth_bZKQi8jyJxgfUEDHZSPz6mX5V5wPK6F1jA6x6uCBQlBg4xeUjrhWMwtWX8x8izIyePRWSKh_a8Sm1ZtEOybCfjmWgxVP-p38KUFtIslpknJoyc/s1600/tisuues.JPG" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And with that, Gabriel's fate was sealed. A talking to for sure!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Fast forward to that same evening in February. Our elementary school hosted an event. Batman met us there straight from work. We were among the last to leave. Gabriel hopped into my car, asked if he could sit in the driver's seat for a moment. I said yes, and stood right next to him as the car warmed up, and Batman and I finished chatting. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Batman leaves.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
My ex-husband is there, ready to take the boys back with him.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And then it happened.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Somehow. Some. How.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Gabriel locked my keys in the car.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
While it was running.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
My ex witnesses this. He humanely offers to allow me to sit in his warm car while I wait for rescue. I decline. He really needs to get the kiddos back to his house and into bed.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I wonder where my film crew is. The absurdity that is my everyday life with my amazing kiddos should be documented. And broadcast. Even if only for the benefit of other moms and the absurdity that is<em> their</em> life.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
A mom I know is leaving the deserted school. She asks how she can help. I laugh as I explain my situation. She laughs even harder, especially as I recount events from earlier in the day. Her lovely six-year-old Lily doesn't undertand our hysteria. The mom offers me gum.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Gum. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Because she doesn't have any vodka.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I happily accept. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
She leaves, knowing my Batman is on his way to rescue me. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The chewing action of my gum fails to keep me from shivering as I wait, laughing inside at my beautiful, wacky adventure of motherhood.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
My hero arrives. More laughter. More head-shaking. Life is good.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2355458503245066672.post-89140013648323787212012-03-02T15:49:00.000-05:002012-03-02T15:49:50.894-05:00Meatloaf CupcakesWe called Leap Day "Wacky Wednesday" since it was so unusual. To go with the theme, I made Meatloaf Cupcakes for dinner. They were a hit!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp1H6upq-Wa5yiQnawdWdkslKx083Eg3cJlXZ2RIR0hHCnCRmeuurgG8LWwoUT06uX1iXMNeDJm_dKfK2Y55hS01HUj0Dc5P85V-wsgbO_ACtuzULH16lsorCLUTsb31awqc7FcPzxq1JA/s1600/meatloaf+cupcake.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp1H6upq-Wa5yiQnawdWdkslKx083Eg3cJlXZ2RIR0hHCnCRmeuurgG8LWwoUT06uX1iXMNeDJm_dKfK2Y55hS01HUj0Dc5P85V-wsgbO_ACtuzULH16lsorCLUTsb31awqc7FcPzxq1JA/s1600/meatloaf+cupcake.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I could see this being a fun April Fool's thing to make also. I simply took my favorite meatloaf recipe (made with turkey) and baked it in a muffin tin (which is awesome, because it only takes about 20 minutes to bake!).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I made mashed potatoes, a little more whipped than usual, and piped them on using a pastry bag with a really large tip. They were HOT! And not without a few lumps, even though I was careful.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Next time, I think sweet potatoes would be even prettier, and a bit more nutritious, of course.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Then I steamed some peas and individually sprinkled them on top. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The kids went bonkers for this. It's fun because you can change this up and be as creative as you like. Let me know if you wind up making a version of these and share pictures on here!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2355458503245066672.post-21189717361896746992012-03-02T15:30:00.001-05:002012-03-02T15:31:37.047-05:00A WHAT in your pants?I am pretty careful about the music my kids listen to. I believe in keeping my beautiful children innocent for as long as possible, but still be reasonable so they are not too sheltered. <br />
<br />
Julian was listening to his iPod the other day. I forget that it also functions as a radio. He was seriously jammin to <em>I'm Sexy and I Know It</em>. Sure it's a great dance song, and even though I know it's not the most kid-friendly song, I didn't hear anything seriously objectionable in it so I wasn't too concerned. <br />
<br />
Until my six-year-old asked what sexy means. <br />
<br />
And then I heard Julian sing, "<em>I've got a passion in my pants and I'm not afraid to show it</em>."<br />
<br />
Um...WHAT??<br />
<br />
Of course his innocent little mind has no idea what this means. However, I explained that that was not the most appropriate thing to be singing. When he asked why, I explained that those words have very grown up meanings and he should make up some other words to sing during that part of he song- just to see what he would come up with.<br />
<br />
He came back a few minutes later and excitedly told me he had new lyrics. He cheerfully sang <em>"I've got a parrot in my pants and I'm not afraid to show it."</em><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsO7J2RspY6TBMcnJZ7e0s9L8hUyUB-AoCP2P00-u8nKbN8VP9hI5L96G844GyizUCnftIashPyFaFTojVOGR4_rBVJh-wrUWO9_Kd7w4j-iNXAR-evkI7zWr0pEB_9gohBZO2xEC0Vh79/s1600/Julian+fall11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsO7J2RspY6TBMcnJZ7e0s9L8hUyUB-AoCP2P00-u8nKbN8VP9hI5L96G844GyizUCnftIashPyFaFTojVOGR4_rBVJh-wrUWO9_Kd7w4j-iNXAR-evkI7zWr0pEB_9gohBZO2xEC0Vh79/s1600/Julian+fall11.JPG" /></a></div><br />
I praised him for such creative thinking then giggled before he left. I'm not actually sure if those words are any better, but I'm sure it conjures a comical picture in his mind, keeping it completely age appropriate for him.<br />
<br />
In a few years, when he gets a girlfriend, I will definitely be sharing this. :)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2355458503245066672.post-47046338039697996792011-12-07T23:49:00.003-05:002013-10-08T21:59:27.491-04:00Little Boys<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGzDE1rjGtjtAXvrgpZAHNEmi74hXFsQ_VZL4CMZJsFO3gwPGj97sdWZHKN5Eno9jM2C9PrlYcwuQMMv3nUZHeATh9hXKQ7aP_uT_XdikSfdM-lfuqcTv8NoAjjrrBi_BgR6J1ty62FhaV/s1600/brownies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGzDE1rjGtjtAXvrgpZAHNEmi74hXFsQ_VZL4CMZJsFO3gwPGj97sdWZHKN5Eno9jM2C9PrlYcwuQMMv3nUZHeATh9hXKQ7aP_uT_XdikSfdM-lfuqcTv8NoAjjrrBi_BgR6J1ty62FhaV/s320/brownies.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Little Boys<br />
And their smelly shoes<br />
Rocks in their pockets<br />
Sticky glue<br />
<br />
Fingerprints on my glasses<br />
Impish looks<br />
Constant wrestling <br />
Lost library books<br />
<br />
Ninja masks<br />
And Kung Fu kicks<br />
Scattered colors of<br />
Lego bricks<br />
<br />
Boy parts, pee pee jokes<br />
And new lingo-<br />
Bakugan, Paper Jams<br />
And Ninjago<br />
<br />
Superheroes<br />
Climbing Trees<br />
All their jeans<br />
Have holey knees<br />
<br />
Pirate ships<br />
And zooming cars<br />
Imaginary <br />
Flights to Mars<br />
<br />
Splashing in puddles<br />
Hills of ants<br />
And far too many<br />
Captain Underpants<br />
<br />
Boogey noses<br />
Sticky-up hair<br />
Need constant reminders<br />
To stop tipping their chair<br />
<br />
Walking and talking <br />
In their sleep<br />
Spinning in circles<br />
Till they collapse in a heap<br />
<br />
Cuddly hugs<br />
Yet they sniff my pits<br />
Gales of giggles<br />
Had in fits<br />
<br />
So many kisses<br />
And I Love Yous<br />
Come with <br />
Little boys<br />
And their smelly shoes<br />
-AMUnknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2355458503245066672.post-87649933827021926622011-12-07T10:48:00.000-05:002011-12-07T10:48:34.338-05:00The Froggy Hat<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">This is Gabriel.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfOjJ4bTznOpy1iQoAacRwijh3CCovnNazcUBIokvBcHfoKwT5Uztd6sFy4SSLerSb-888i6n10d_BLDH4v0DnCMoyLbz2mjfSt1nOlC44r3THiQygahORT4GjB2TJCx4HOGizWRspWIpf/s1600/IMG_6805.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfOjJ4bTznOpy1iQoAacRwijh3CCovnNazcUBIokvBcHfoKwT5Uztd6sFy4SSLerSb-888i6n10d_BLDH4v0DnCMoyLbz2mjfSt1nOlC44r3THiQygahORT4GjB2TJCx4HOGizWRspWIpf/s320/IMG_6805.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">This is Gabriel wearing his new froggy hat.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj60NOpzyVY7cvyRiZ0HOQkBfsSOeLHybQnb0BVD9a8pr-pPwaKbURe2en96ZaQqWYsatl77i5uTReDUJ2cl4kv8gRGDN-c-golfcZWgM0B5xZ_BOtjeip91Wrohcz_KCogqAhElthXv3n/s1600/Gabriel12-06-11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj60NOpzyVY7cvyRiZ0HOQkBfsSOeLHybQnb0BVD9a8pr-pPwaKbURe2en96ZaQqWYsatl77i5uTReDUJ2cl4kv8gRGDN-c-golfcZWgM0B5xZ_BOtjeip91Wrohcz_KCogqAhElthXv3n/s320/Gabriel12-06-11.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">Gabriel looooooves his new froggy hat. He wears it all the time. He loves it so much, he even sleeps in it. </div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">Notice the little thread of yarn dangling from that little pom-pom? A few minutes after this picture was taken, I was tucking my little ones into bed. Gabriel noticed the little thread and pulled. It became a longer thread. Gabriel became very sad. I told Gabriel to give me a minute and I would fix it. I left and returned with the scissors, intending to knot and cut the thread so it wouldn't completely unravel. </div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">Gabriel saw me. Gabriel saw the scissors. Gabriel became completely panic-stricken. And...are you ready? I can't make this stuff up.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">Gabriel yells: "No, Mom, no! Don't cut off my ball!!!!!"</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2355458503245066672.post-89350756882294007092011-08-10T10:08:00.004-04:002011-08-13T11:05:37.126-04:00SweetnessIt's been a truly wonderful summer with my kiddos. Even so, the other day after breakfast and before my shower, I brewed myself a cup of coffee. The kids were amusing themselves, and I just wanted a moment (or two!) to enjoy my coffee outside, enjoying the sounds of the morning. In peace, by myself.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0I-jzx_budhPRMR1Pmsm7bmg3_B106jM2XyoZJbYPu3ji6iqY0s8yZCaA3S3rhMQLeNW6hHCwOa_qaGzvFYIaa9RG3-TBqCDFtOW8rPrn0RbRQ6XHfzPekNZx3-O846tYjwNy-iUYqVWF/s1600/IMG_6545.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0I-jzx_budhPRMR1Pmsm7bmg3_B106jM2XyoZJbYPu3ji6iqY0s8yZCaA3S3rhMQLeNW6hHCwOa_qaGzvFYIaa9RG3-TBqCDFtOW8rPrn0RbRQ6XHfzPekNZx3-O846tYjwNy-iUYqVWF/s320/IMG_6545.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Of course, this is not exactly what happened. I tiptoed through the door and onto the front porch, and as I turned to close the door, Gabriel appeared.<br />
<br />
"Whatcha doing, Mom?"<br />
<br />
"Oh, I just wanted three minutes to sit here and drink my coffee..."<br />
<br />
"With your <em>son</em>," he finished for me in a cheerful sing-song voice.<br />
<br />
I sighed and smiled at the same time. Sighing because the few moments of peace would not be, smiling because summer was coming to an end, and there were only a few precious days left before the start of school. I could enjoy my coffee alone nearly every single day. For now, I would be enjoying it ...<br />
<br />
"With my son", I confirmed.<br />
<br />
We chit-chatted for a bit, and at some point we got around to talking about Gabriel's future wife.<br />
<br />
"I'm going to find someone pretty who knows God," he said.<br />
<br />
I told him that was a very smart thing to do, and to make sure she is kind as well.<br />
<br />
"And funny, and smart."<br />
<br />
He looked up at me with shining eyes.<br />
<br />
"Just like you, Mommy."<br />
<br />
Tears sprung to my eyes. I knew I would treasure this moment forever. Then he added two more words that would ensure I would indeed remember this.<br />
<br />
"...except <em>young</em>."<br />
<br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2355458503245066672.post-63578802040473373022011-07-23T16:42:00.002-04:002011-07-23T16:47:14.470-04:00In Honor of Comic Con: Batman SaysIn the early part of our relationship, my new beau was trying desperately to hide the geek side of himself from me. I was already clued in the first time we got together. I suggested a game of darts at a nearby pub and he admitted he carried his very own dart set in the car. <br />
<br />
I agreed with him when he acknowledged it was a pretty geeky thing to do.<br />
<br />
Then came his favorite show at the time, a popular sci-fi show on cable. I wasn't familiar with it. Perhaps as he began to describe it to me, my eyes glazed over, or perhaps he feared his enthusiasm for this show, along with the dart thing, might propel him so far into dorkdom I might cut my losses while the cutting was good. Either way, he felt the need to justify himself, the show, or both. <br />
<br />
He began to shift in his seat. <br />
<br />
He cleared his throat. <br />
<br />
Twice.<br />
<br />
"Well," he stammered. <br />
<br />
And then he said it.<br />
<br />
The greatest Batman quote to date.<br />
<br />
"It's not really <em>Sci-fi...</em><br />
<br />
It's a drama... in space."Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2355458503245066672.post-73066176812492781882011-06-09T21:55:00.000-04:002011-06-09T21:55:26.585-04:00Babies are...Let's get one thing straight.<br />
<br />
Babies are not convenient. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhInmwtroTXxkp4-BTjnaAT-uehlSFx50eyQbpbTse6eB0t8xToVCW22KToHDkhj08AK-5e5rRXmDz_mL5cI53Dt8f0A4mBrXJWRp3FNI-KnfTqjWkEmvMt_6FSG2dLYGzQfKTC8dBr3PY/s1600/digital+camera+pics+136.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhInmwtroTXxkp4-BTjnaAT-uehlSFx50eyQbpbTse6eB0t8xToVCW22KToHDkhj08AK-5e5rRXmDz_mL5cI53Dt8f0A4mBrXJWRp3FNI-KnfTqjWkEmvMt_6FSG2dLYGzQfKTC8dBr3PY/s320/digital+camera+pics+136.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Not from the moment they attach their minuscule selves to our insides, making us crave bologna sandwiches for breakfast, yet sending us running for the nearest thing to hurl into at the faintest whiff of a vanilla-scented candle. And certainly not when we become completely wiped out after such rigorous activity as, say, making ourselves a piece of toast. And later down the road, when their presence is more visible and they instigate a fun game of Guess Which Limb That Is, Jabbing Me in the Ribs/Stomach/Bladder/Kidneys/Liver and God Knows What Else. And as for the poor mom who endured the bizarre sensation of her baby using his teeny, pokey little fingers to tickle the very bottom of her uterus before he was born, and no amount of jumping, pressing, or yelping would make it stop, her baby was certainly not convenient. <br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Most of us are familiar with the numerous trips to the bathroom in the middle of the night, the attempts at turning over onto our<em> other</em> side without trying to wake up all the way, and the ridiculous feeling that we've swallowed a beach ball as we try in vain to put on our own socks. </div><br />
Certainly, none of <em>that</em> is convenient.<br />
<br />
The simple, natural act of relocating those babies from within our bodies, into the outside world, is probably the least convenient thing that I can think of. Natural, yes. Convenient, no.<br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUdXAwsAP1u6yOVgZJrEjwpnK1eXGjD2Ed7UStqBdvGmAsXgpYYw0K4qq3FFaSCwsc1L7OCogJEGpd_tG6u1Knvgs7X6qfEDQM7w-zPmErK0H0CuZeRNN7Z8X7qVdgUgAAaBKDUOJ7ERLl/s1600/gabriel+009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUdXAwsAP1u6yOVgZJrEjwpnK1eXGjD2Ed7UStqBdvGmAsXgpYYw0K4qq3FFaSCwsc1L7OCogJEGpd_tG6u1Knvgs7X6qfEDQM7w-zPmErK0H0CuZeRNN7Z8X7qVdgUgAAaBKDUOJ7ERLl/s320/gabriel+009.jpg" t8="true" width="240" /></a>Guess what? That amazing creature who amused us with its inconvenient antics, gave us great material with which to bond with other mommies, not to mention a trump card to win any argument with our spouse for the rest of our lives, will not suddenly become convenient after he has moved out of our uterus.</div><br />
We accept the fact that our children do not come into the world ready to use the toilet. We spend a bundle on diapers and accept the whole poop thing, and hope we have a camera ready the first time daddy gets squirted in the face by his new baby boy. We have a child knowing we will change their diapers and wipe their bottoms some eight or nine thousand times before they are potty trained.<br />
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Then why on earth do some not accept that feeding and nourishing their child may not be the most convenient thing for mom? Why do some parents decide it isn't worth the investment of a little more of their time and effort to give their baby the most superior nourishment, designed just for them? Let me put in the disclaimer here: This post does <em>not </em>refer to that tiny percentage of moms who, despite their absolute, very best efforts, and due to very special circumstances, wound up having to bottle feed. I am talking about all parents who decide it's just not worth the "hassle" for mom to have to be the one to feed the baby all of the time. There is a biological reason for this setup. A baby is meant to have lots and lots of close cuddling with their mama, and nursing encourages this close contact. <br />
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It has been proven that breastfed babies have lower obesity rates later in life, along with fewer allergies and a better immune system, along with countless other benefits. Plus, it's free, always at the right temperature, and frankly, I thought this was a tremendously convenient way to feed my baby. No powder, cans, measuring, or getting the water to be just right. Baby's hungry? Lift shirt. Baby's happy.<br />
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I just think it would be lovely if people<em> everywhere</em> would view breastfeeding as the most natural, logical thing. I never want to hear another story of a woman being told to feed her child in the bathroom or being given dirty looks for nursing in public. I would love to hear mothers, aunts, grandmothers, sisters and husbands encouraging the new moms in their families to breastfeed. A positive environment can go a long way for a new mom who is nursing. All of us can support them. Yes, it can have its challenges, so negative comments, or talk of giving up breastfeeding, in favor of what is "easier", can be very discouraging to an already tired mom.<br />
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We are supposed to be an evolved society. Let's behave as such and encourage<em> all</em> new moms to give their babies the best possible start in life by breastfeeding. It has been scientifically proven to be the superior baby food, the absolute <em>best</em> thing we can nourish our babies with. Don't they deserve our absolute best?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2355458503245066672.post-24344983282534967152011-05-18T13:25:00.000-04:002011-05-18T13:25:17.863-04:00Batman Says....So it has been determined that my darling husband should have his very own section in this blog for the bizarre things he says. You know, "Batman-ism", or "Stuff Batman Says", that kind of thing. It will simply be called, "Batman Says." Some things will be humorous- at least from outsiders' perspective. Some of what I include in here will give everone a peek at what I contend with on a regular basis. We will laugh at him, with him, near him, and some of you will be overwhelmed with empathy for me. But only occasionally, because overall, he's a pretty neat guy.<br />
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Still....<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoQuL550FdI52gKxR6TpTaorzBRNRifR5LQswlFOi-MTaQcd-mu4hbU1m5rfBMpx28Q2i3uDchdFHt_YeB5f_yr7B_lpS368km4V0G3ovFfinfmxZVxd2pubRVJGDOxwHYsxSNZ89734xD/s1600/055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoQuL550FdI52gKxR6TpTaorzBRNRifR5LQswlFOi-MTaQcd-mu4hbU1m5rfBMpx28Q2i3uDchdFHt_YeB5f_yr7B_lpS368km4V0G3ovFfinfmxZVxd2pubRVJGDOxwHYsxSNZ89734xD/s320/055.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguovWu6a2GaLWJpubEGFMqPHZ-BhbKPOXHlAb0KFFvFv9ryFF0HHgkgOkjlNJQTrNrqZvghBl9tgFRsFAV_tXxjsFdB6wyfE5Qv0JR9E2Yl13EC_-gsYFEt000jKySTHXqFZdy9QvmyAwB/s1600/056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguovWu6a2GaLWJpubEGFMqPHZ-BhbKPOXHlAb0KFFvFv9ryFF0HHgkgOkjlNJQTrNrqZvghBl9tgFRsFAV_tXxjsFdB6wyfE5Qv0JR9E2Yl13EC_-gsYFEt000jKySTHXqFZdy9QvmyAwB/s320/056.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Batman Says...."This is a Pigsty."<br />
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Seriously?<br />
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Do you see what I'm up against, ladies?<br />
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Stay tuned for more "Batman Says." And oh yes, feel free to leave comments. He's looking forward to reading them. ;-)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2355458503245066672.post-51318927469222472722011-03-15T21:00:00.000-04:002011-03-15T21:00:18.756-04:00Picnic Dinner!The gloomy rain seemed to match my mood the other day as I followed my hubby around the house, watching him pack for his trip. He will only be gone a few days, but I always feel a bit unsettled anytime he flies. Thank goodness for Skype! He was able to say a quick goodnight to me last night, and the kids were thrilled to see him this morning before they went off to school. Technology really is something.<br />
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It's been a rough few weeks around here. I was home with Julian for a full week while he suffered from a wicked virus. Had to rearrange my work schedule, as in ask my very flexible coworkers to cover for me. It's probably a good thing we don't all have kids or it could have been a very interesting winter at the store! The boys have been a bit "cheeky", we'll say, lately. It seems they have a fit and argue and complain anytime anything is asked of them. Maddie has her own issues with the attitude she sometimes gives off. Lots of snow days, lots of illness, which are both unusual around here.<br />
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I think the good news is, spring seems to be creeping up on us- maybe winter is actually over! The thunderstorms we had here overnight were pretty intense, but the boys slept throught it. I really expected company in my bed around 4:30 this morning because of it. School was delayed by two hours, and we noticed at breakfast that our grill (fairly good-sized and heavy) had been blown several feet across our deck. We still have power, and no tree limbs came crashing down, so pretty uneventful for us.<br />
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With hubby gone, the kids and I enjoyed one of our favorite dinner traditions- what we call a <span style="color: magenta;">Picnic Dinner</span><span style="color: black;">. This healthy dinnertime treat began when I was a single mom and my boys were preschoolers. I should call it Mommy CopOut Dinner, because that's closer to reality. On evenings when I was truly exhausted and still wanted to feed my boys a sound dinner, I would excitedly tell them we were having a picnic for dinner! This would usually mean us sitting around the coffee table in our living room, which was a very big deal. I would gather grapes, apple slices, strawberries, orange slices, baby carrots, sliced red peppers (yes, they love them!), some cheese cubes, whole grain crackers, pretzels and yogurt. I would artfully arrange the fresh fruits and veggies on a few platters that I had and voila! Dinner was served. If we really needed some fun, I would pop popcorn- they <em>love</em> this! It definitely makes it feel more like a party or fun snack-fest. It's still my most requested meal from them. We have it less often now that I am married to a meat and potatoes guy, so it's still a treat and still special. We change it up, depending on what we have in the house- sometimes a variety of dips is offered with the veggies, and I am <em>still</em> trying to get them to like hummus. Even without the hummus, it is probably the healthiest overall meal they can have- it's super fresh, has tons of color from the variety, whole grains, and protein. And it's their favorite. My friend tried this with her seven-year-old, and said he really got a kick out of it! </span><br />
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Does your family have any special meal traditions like this?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2355458503245066672.post-67128802244227263302011-02-05T15:27:00.000-05:002011-03-08T17:56:43.756-05:00Feeding my family and getting organizedI am now a mom with all of my children in school. This has been quite the transition for me, much more difficult than I ever could have imagined. I still work part time, and right now hours at work are fairly low. I have been immersing myself in getting caught up around the house. Life was pretty chaotic when we married a year-and-a-half ago. My husband was working his usual 60+ hours every week, I was working 20 hours a week, and we merged our families and had to figure things out as we went along.<br /><br /><div align="left">When we all moved into our lovely home, some things never really got unpacked, and some things that did, never really got a home. So I've been catching up and organizing like crazy. I am currently obsessed with a few organizing blogs: iheartorganizing.blogspot.com, orgjunkie.com (I'm an Organizing Junkie). These women have great ideas and are inspirational. </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I am also putting a concerted effort into the art of feeding my family. I have learned so much about the crap that passes for food in our country, and just how imortant it is to read labels and be proactive about what we bring home and prepare for our families to eat. I absolutely adore Jessica Seinfeld's two cookbooks- <em>Deceptively Delicious</em> and <em>Double Delicious</em>. Both books feature recipes that include sneaking vegetable purees into dishes that even picky kids and husbands will like. I am making better use of my slow cooker, thanks to the A Year of Slow Cooking blog. </div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570435321828630642" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhd1W7i5xmDywI1BFJPa4c4yMaWd9xJcNrm7Nx-Ay9hNDmtwH3tREk_FIfDunHW3FAMb8udgh76SH9OCLvUBz5iWZzbx0u2kxas8UjQ4wvnuBslXni9mZRNueS5nZHZmINPMCSmzWqsumb/s200/086.JPG" /> <p align="center"><em>A cupcake I made from Deceptively Delicious- it has pumpkin puree and a yummy cream cheese frosting with a bit of cinnamon added. No plastic-y frosting and the kids loved it!<br /></em><br /></p><br />Something else that has intrigued me: making <strong>bento lunches</strong> for my kids! This is a whole <em>thing</em> in japanese culture. And now American moms all over the place are creatively cutting out veggie, cheese and fruit shapes, sometimes making faces on them, and tucking them artfully into teeny silicone holders that form to the corners of the lunchboxes, keeping everything beautiful, fresh, and neat for lunchtime. I even discovered hard boiled egg molds! You peel warm eggs and put them into the various molds, submerge them in cold water for a few minutes, and voila! Your child gets to enjoy a bunny-shaped egg for lunch later. There are so many moms blogging about this- taking pictures of what containers they use and what yummy, pretty lunches their kiddos get to enjoy. I was so excited to get started with my bento lunches, that yes, I too took pictures.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570437265626317442" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg5SzVjEWA0tXyctzXIpglTt88mZa2nSL0eh4AB2NINXvtsq_Mz05ETYhaI9bOlnGcXy6JOVPQztL_gPTUAWiCK1NzKNd3vAkPzWZaM8J7GWjRrfaDFsjsKhPYu_dH6EvBe3eBwEh4m4Cr/s200/077.JPG" /> <p align="center"><em>My first bento-style lunch. I have since bought larger silicone "cupcake" holders to hold trail mix, fruit, and the hard-boiled eggs in various shapes. The kids are really enjoying these!<br /></p></em><br />So in addition to sharing all that is crazy in our blessed, child-rearing, family-blending lives, I will pass along some practical things that are making our family life easier, healthier, or enriching it in any way. After all, we mommies need to stick together!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1