Labels: blueberry pie, cooking, free recipes, random domesticity, slow food
Extreme Adventures in Blueberry Pie:
2 pints washed and picked blueberries stems removed
1 cup (ish) sugar
zest and juice from a small lemon (or 1/2 lg)
1/4 cup (ish) cornstarch
pinch of salt
pat of butter
pillsbury pie crust (ref section)
preheat oven to 350
line pie plate with 1 crust
mix sugar, berries, cornstarch, salt lemon zest and juice in lg bowl
dump all into crust. top with the butter cut into bits-
put on top crust, crimp with fork, then brush with a bit of milk and sprinkle with sugar
poke a few vent holes into the top.
bake for about an hour-
best blueberry pie ever. I based the recipe from some filling I bought at William Sonoma- it’s the fresh lemon that makes it YUM.
Enjoy:)
serve with vanilla ice-cream or whipped cream:)
Cleaning, top to bottom, with a deadline, it makes me cranky. As does working in one room, only to enter another, and find a NEW mess. Labels: parenting, random domesticity
All of which happened the other day. It was a perfect storm of circumstance and over-reaction. It was not pretty.
I was in the living room folding laundry, while the dishwasher ran, the washing machine and dryer tumbled, dinner was cooking, I was sweating and everyone was supposed to be getting ready for dinner. (Multi- tasking- I am gifted, in it.)
That's when I suddenly noticed "the quiet". Not good.
Quiet, in a house with 3 sons, 2 cats and a beagle, does not equate peace, it is a siren of warning, louder than the weather alert. I looked up from my multi-tasking duties. The living-room got the "all clear". Hubby was relaxing on the couch after a long day, the beagle was sleeping. I walked through the kitchen. No smoke. (this is good) When I hit the foyer, the scent of raspberry handsoap filled my not so sensitive, nose. That was not right. (Our house usually smells like: dinner, a locker room febreeze or a pet shop... not so much, like raspberries.)
Faster than a cheetah on Starbucks, I flung open the bathroom door. Slimey, pink handsoap dripped like honey from the countertop, slid down the cabinet fronts and puddled onto the bath-rug. It took 20 minutes to eliminate the slimey foaming mess. During which, I built up a rather foamy head of fury.
Careful examination of the sticky evidence, clearly revealed the culprit. The lid lie on the counter, removed from the pump bottle. The bottle lay on it's side and perfectly formed, 6 year old handprints outlined in foam, dotted the countertop left uncovered by liquid slime. I'm sure the neighbors fled to their rooms, when I demanded the little delinquent to go there, for his own safety. (WHOOPSY windows were open when the yelling began.)
I heard some kind of defense being raised, by the delinquent, from his jail-cell, but this judge had already delivered her verdict: GUILTY AS CHARGED. I returned to the living-room to inform the husband of the delinquency, via continued tirade. Not quite speaking to him.. (or anyone really) just on a really good (or bad) yelling roll.
At some point, a deep, calm voice sounded. "I took the lid off the soap, when I washed my hands." "Oh." "crap" was my response. Every bubble in the foam of my fury popped and left me a slimey mess. I'd cast judgement on a situation, that I knew nothing about. I was wrong. I hate that.
I called the unjustly tried prisoner, down from his cell. I apologized. I set him free. Of course, part of me wanted to build up another fury towards the actual culprit. And part of my knew that the little handprints were proof that he had indeed participated in illicit acts of mess. I was justified, wasn't I?
The small voice in my gut that is usally right, said "NO." I realized the real culprit, was me. I'd let the stress of current events pump me full of hot air like a bubble on the verge of popping. It didn't take much to turn me into a puddle of momma- fury.
I took a deep breath, let it out slowly. Then, shut my mouth. (unbelievable, I know) The current deadline, is one of my own making. I cannot expect life to not go on, just because I have a goal in mind. Stuff happens. My family lives here. This is not a magazine shoot, it's a party, to celebrate.
I am resolved to try to enjoy the preparation process (and the bumps it may bring... ) without diminishing the event's joy, by creating stress, instead. Oh- I still have my spreadsheet. I still have a deadline, and goal.... but, I've also asked for some help... from friends, from family, and from the only one who can change my cheetah like, anger reflex.....God."Dear Lord- please help me to honor you... and not overreact to normal to things just because I have an agenda. God, it's hard to work only to find it totally undone in a moment- it's frustrating! Please help me to be patient.... and not to kill anyone- emotionally, with my fury. I love you Lord- and am glad I;m not alone in this... oh and Lord... good weather for this deadline would really be nice;) amen"
Labels: humor, random domesticity
Extreme Adventures In Motherhood, Live Mom Report:
Leaking condiment bottles are a capitalist conspiracy of waste and consumerism. The condiment producers have formed an alliance with the cleaning supply manufacturers.. they have created a self maintaining vortex of mess making and cleaning… Be forewarned.
Which means- no matter HOW often I clean the fridge- it’s disgusting.
Labels: graduation, knitting, random domesticity
Things are busy here. The graduate is filling out job applications. The parents are cleaning for the party.
There are tomatoes and peppers growing in the yard. (That is a first..as I hate dirt- with the exception of sand;)
I have sold of loads of excess yarn- and in return- bought the bestest mixer I've ever owned;) A refurbished Kitchenaid.. and yes- they really are that wonderful;)
The slow food movement and locally grown adventure has continued with a quick side-track for chinese last night to round out our "Kung-Fu Panda" theme night. (I t really HAD to be done) Movie was cute.
There has been continued knitting- I finished up my Shetland Shawl , in Sundara's Silky Aran- which I cannot recommend highly enough. I've cast on for a variation on the Birch Shawl- this one is point up- so much less aggravating than castin on hundreds of stitches:) With the added bonus of the ability to stop when ever I am sick of it;) Yes- I am probably the last knitter on earth to knit the Birch- but- I am like that- we know this.
Tomorrow will be a mixed bag of emotions as the oldest graduates.... for now- I'm just trying to figure out what to wear that will coordinate with running waterproof mascara. (I think I could cry that much- let's just say we are experiencing the "perfect storm" hormones + life change + child's life change= buckets of tears. Even Maybelline can only hold upto so much:) I may have to cry the ugly cry before hand- just to get it out of the way.
Also- there is nothing like planning to invite everyone you know to your home to make you realize how shabby things can become in 9 years of living in a house...the carpet- the bumps and bangs in the walls... but- then- it's been lived in with love and memories.. (I'm telling myself) so we'll just enjoy it:) (and pray for a nice day so folks can enjoy the yard.
More later- when I can think of something beyond pomp and circumstance;)
"Did you forget to flush?" I asked the culprit, without a doubt that he was, in fact guilty. Labels: humor, parenting, random domesticity
"What color was it?" He asked slyly avoiding the question.
"Ummm brown" I replied- parrying his dodge.
"Was it lumpy, or smooth????" He asked- evasive, once again.
"Both." I answered- readying myself for the next blow.
"It was probly Keeb* " Was his answer. *keeb aka: the cat
"The cat does not use the toilet and you have toilet paper hanging out of your pants. Please , flush next time!" I shouted, exasperated by his attempt at "tefloning" and pointing the blame at an innocent kitteh.
"I can't" He replied.
"Why?" I ask- afraid of the answer.
"Cause I want my brothers to see it.. it was HUGE" He says, eyes the size of saucers with pride and awe.
Parenting- the stuff they DO NOT tell you in books. But, I will, in mine;)
I shall refrain from a picture today... the word picture here should tide you over;)
PS- this morning I was the mom of 2 highschoolers and a kindergartner- now I have a college kid. *sigh* grief and joy-- I have it:)
*Blink* *Blink* Labels: crock pot, free recipes, healthy eating, knitting, parenting, random domesticity, slow food
That was pretty much my answer to my primary care physician a couple of weeks ago, when she asked me a question I had NO answer for. (Me speechless? I know- it's shocking.) We were discussing my (now plateaued) weight gain. "Trouble shooting". (As if I may not KNOW what I've been doing wrong.) It started off fine... until she asked whether we'd had any dietary changes.... I said "You know, we're probably eating more pre-packaged and convenience foods..."
That's when she asked me "Why?". My response was exactly this:
*Blink* *Blink*
I didn't want to say what I was thinking. "Laziness...convenience...ease."
I left with a prescription for blood work and to eat breakfast. My answer, which I finally gave after losing the "she who speaks first, loses" game- (my doc can be brutal when she needs too be she just stood there looking at me waiting for an answer! ) has bothered me, ever since.
I did a pantry/fridge evaluation. My pantry and fridge, both flunked. Almost everything had an expiration date further in the future than my youngest son's graduation. Instead of actual foods listed in the ingredients, there were chemical combinations that sounded like diseases. That can't be good.
So- I'm doing a little experiment. We'll call it a "real-food experiment". My goal is not to lose weight or diet... (alhtough that would be nice;) but to eat actual food as opposed to chemical cocktails in ever-fresh packaging. It's May- and farmers markets are opening up, it should be fairly easy to find actual- real food. I love to cook- and actually can do it... it's time to stop being lazy.
Yesterday- we baked whole wheat flax seed bread and had whole wheat pasta with easy homemade pasta sauce. Yum.
Today- Noah and I are making a second attempt at home made Mozzerella (yesterdays shall remain unmentioned... gross:( ) We'll toss some more ingredients into the bread machine (I and I put chicken, canned tomatoes, black beans, onion, green peppers in the crock pot to cook all day. I'll serve it up over brown rice with a salad on the side. It wasn't hard... but it's all actual food. No powdered cheese... no rice mix of salt with pseudo-flavoring.... just, real food. There will still be plenty of treats and snacks...some "real food" and some "junk food"... but definitely a move towards the "real".
I can do it.. and I have the time... so I will.
Stay tuned- you'll get to watch the wins and losses- enjoy:)
From the top left: Whole Wheat Bread with ground flax. Home made pasta sauce. Second row- OOPs thats not food... thats my Tuscany Shawl from "No Sheep For You" .. Indigo Moon Fingering weight yarn in Aubergine. I love it;)
Bottom row- What was supposed to be Mozzerella cheese- but someone accidently let it boil....That's a loss. and real ingredients for today's chicken dinner;)
Whole Wheat Bread Good for Toast- I added 2 tablespoons of cold milled flax seed, and instead of oil, I used fresh butter;) .
Tracey's Homemade Pasta Sauce:
fresh mushrooms, sliced
chopped onion, minced garlic, green pepper diced
turkey sausage (1 lb)
1 lg can tomato sauce
1 can diced tomatoes with garlic and onion
1 small can tomato paste
salt and pepper to taste
Brown turkey and drain, add onion, garlic, green pepper, mushrooms, salt and pepper sautee until veggies are slightly softened.
Add tomato sauce, tomatoes and tomato paste. Stir and simmer until pasta is ready. (about 45 minutes) Serve with your favorite whole wheat pasta;)
Today's dinner-
Chicken and sauce-
Whole chicken cut up
Can tomato sauce
can tomato paste
can of black beans
onion, garlic and green pepper chopped, salt and pepper (I'm part Italian.. can't cook without these ingredients;)
toss everything in the crock pot, and cook until you are no longer afraid to eat it;) (I usually cook on high for 5-6 hours) Serve over steamed brown rice;) Maybe with a few grates of parmesan or fresh mozzerella.
Labels: community, knitting, parenting, random domesticity
We were in our "fence free" yard. I was knitting away, DH was doing the "commentary" for my youngests' individual soccer tournament. (Interestingly enough, he always wins when he plays with invisible opponents- however it's usually a close game ... he's all about the sports drama. ) Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed 3 varied sized potential soccer players, hovering at the invisible line that divides our yards.
"Hey- go ask if they want to play" I called to the soccer meister. 3 "real" players joined him almost immediately. My youngest introduced himself- and they returned in kind. However- my little guy kept asking their names. They were not names he was familiar with. Finally, he shrugged his shoulders and just went with it. An epic game of "make up the rules as you go" soccer soon unfolded. A chair and a soccer net were the goals. Dandelion clumps marked the sidelines. Much cheering and laughing rang out. 
After awhile, the soccer game dissolved, and all of the kiddos were watching me knit. I have a few ideas why watching my knitting was more interesting than the playscape or soccer net. Magic, rhythm and color are kid magnets for sure! But, even I, was surprised by what happened next. "I always wanted to learn to do that! Can you teach me?" Said the doe-eyed female soccer player who had held her own playing against 2 boys.
"Sure can" I went inside to search out needles and yarn that would work for a quick project. In a few minutes, she had caught the basic stitch. She quickly declared she'd "Teach everyone at school." Then she started planning her next projects..."How long will it take to finish? I want to finish this today!" Her excitement was contagious, and soon her older brother wanted in on the fun.
I came back from inside with another set of yarn and needles. He was quick to catch on as well. We all chatted and knit until their mom's voice called from next door. "Time to go!" They were next door visiting Grandma. I told them they could keep the knit supplies, and to keep practicing. It was getting chilly and nearly dark- so my youngets and I went int too.
After a few minutes- I heard happy chatter out back. The staccato of foreign language filled the yard. I went out to find my neighbor- (who speaks little english- I'd assumed) Happily helping her grandkids knit away. The gentleman soccer player was telling Grandma she wasn't do it the way I'd showed him. I went over- and found that yes- actually she was. I learned to knit "middle eastern... eastern uncrossed" or "combination or continental" style. My lovely, Lebanese neighbor knit the same way. Funny- continents-religion and language barriers instantly seemed to melt away.
We've always done the "suburban smile" greeting and said "Hi". However, that has been the extent of our conversation. (If that even counts as conversation) But this day- I heard about a sweater knit for her husband and her enjoyment of knitting with her grandkids. I met her daughter-in law- and found myself sounding like an older female version of my youngest, as I asked and repeated her name several times, before I finally got it right. In the 7 years or so that we've been neighbors, this was the most conversation we've had.
I'm excited about the potential knit- pal I've found. And about the kiddos who'll be coming back to visit, knit and play soccer with my little guy. This week- instead of knitting in my house- or knitting in the backyard- I think I'll move to the porch and see if anyone want to join me;) Amazing, what finding a common interest can do for your neighborhood;)
Youngest child: "MOMMY! I want a popsicle!" Labels: are there popsicles in h*ll?, parenting, popsicles, random domesticity
Mommy: "No, it's almost time for dinner."
Youngest child: "I will eat my dinner-I promise! - I'm STARVING for a popsicle."
Mommy: "I said, NO."
Youngest child: "PLEEEEEEASE?" (voice pitch rising to a whine that only dogs can hear level...)
Mommy: "You can have one after dinner, not now."
Youngest Child: "MOMMY, I NEED a popsicle!"
Mommy: "If you ask me again- you won't get any after dinner, either."
Youngest child. Arms crossed. Brows furrowed. "You are the devil".
I've been a mom for over 18 years I thought I'd heard it all.... I've been called a lot of things.. but really now, The Devil? Hilarious. Told you- there are no popsicles in h*ll, because apparently I am the devil and do not allow them.
Mental note- Next week buy nasty tasting sugar free popsicles.... that'll teach him.
Labels: garbage, humor, mothering, parenting, random domesticity
Shoe boxes, sushi containers, empty coffee cans, paper toweling of nefarious sorts. Empty milk bottles, dirty bamboo chopsticks and a few vaguely-recognizable foodstuffs.
Each object, precariously perched upon the other, a leaning tower of garbage- a haz-mat situation in the kitchen- really- a rousing family game of Garbage Jenga.
What started as a necessary kitchen garbage can, has become a family past-time. Each day's game of Garbage Jenga offers a chance to win. The game grows through out the day, every family member adding to the tower, bit by garbage-y bit. Each one quietly backing away from their last addition, afraid the meer sound of their footsteps could lead to jenga-tastrophe.
The rules of the game are simple: Whom ever placed the last item on the garbage pile prior to it's toppling, is the tortured soul who must: (cue the scary music) TAKE OUT THE TRASH.
It's truly amazing to see the engineering skills employed to reinforce the garbage tower. Please note the turned up edge of the garbage bag that gives just enough additional room in the can for items to be slipped into the sides without adding to the height. (It's the height that gets them-every time.) I have explained countless times- that the energy exerted in reinforcements, arguing (about who's turn it is) and studying garbage tower engineering is considerably more than what would be required to simply TAKE out the TRASH... but alas... they disagree.
And so- each day..the game begins anew. An empty box- coffee grounds, a candy wrapper, a broken toy or *gasp* a pile of old schoolwork at a time...
Just one question? Garbage Jenga- does this count towards our one million minutes of family game time?
I will refrain from describing the argument that ensues over who has to replace the garbage bag with a clean one...or who has to pick up the garbage that inevitably drops off the jenga pile and onto the kitchen floor as it's being bagged.. let's suffice to say it's not a pretty sight. Really- I have no clue why my extremely intelligent family seems to be incapable of taking out the trash without waiting for a trash-alanche or my (loud) complaints.... but there you have it- just another adventure in motherhood, you gotta laugh to survive ;)
The sump pump is running and my allergies are in full, sinus attacking bloom. It would seem that Spring is attempting to Sprung. (sprang? spring? Whatever.) Labels: humor, pets, random domesticity, spring
However- I'm not yet convinced that it's here to stay. I am jaded. I do not trust Spring. I live in a land where Spring likes to tease. Spring arrives for an hour or two in the morning-- all sunshine and green...and then flees to somewhere that the snow has abandoned, by noon. One day it's 60 degrees and sunny, the next day, we get a dumping of 4 inches of snow. The chances of a thunderstorm and a snowstorm are about equal in any given day. In Michigan, Spring is more of an "in the moment" thing than an actual "Season."
Spring, is also attacking Mothers. It's doing it's best to make us look bad. We promise a park trip and the weather immediately turns sour. We plan an indoor activity... and the sun pops out and demands attention. If it snows and I make my kids shovel... the rest of the snow will melt by noon. (Which I did last week--- and will never hear the end of.) If I don't make them shovel... the snow will solidify into a mass of dirty ice that could only be compared to the driveway's attempting to turn into a comet--- and my kids will slip on the way to the bus stop. Of course... they will then say: " Can I sue my parent for a slip and fall accident?" and: "You said it would melt, mom." To which I offer the lame: "I guess, I lied."
As of today- the snow is nearly all gone. The sun is shining in my backyard, I grabbed a cup of coffee and joined the cat in front of the doorwall to soak up the sunshiney goodness through the glass. Once my eyes adjusted to the brilliant light.. (takes a while after the long winter here in Michigan...) I noticed the dog poo. Perfectly piled little gifts our beagle has been leaving us all winter long---like left over Easter eggs found in July, they are not a welcome surprise.
What I do not understand, is this: A winters' worth of garbage that blew through the yard, is gone. The papers and bits of plastic that blew out of frozen garbage cans before they could be emptied into the truck...are all gone, blown away by the Spring breezes (read: near gale force winds) or somehow melted away with the snow. The left over fall leaves have disappeared, becoming one with the grass, as they should. The yard looks pretty good aside form the mud, until you look closely, thats when you'll notice the poo.
Perfectly preserved little piles, dotting the yard. The one thing that is naturally biodegradable (it's already halfway there- for pete's sake, it's been digested!) remains. The poo piles. WHY does dog poo- not biodegrade? Why does it last through snow and ice and rain and sun and global warming and global cooling and sleet and hail all seemingly, un-changed? I don't get it.
I have no answers. I have no spiritual analogy... only preserved piles of poo. And the task of assigning my sons to clean them up.... which they are already arguing about. They have offered munerous suggestions in regards to the poo:
1) Leave it until the "Lawn guy" comes and the mower will turn it to mulch.. (Ummm no- that's a good way to lose a lawn guy)
2) Let's call it a science experiment and see what happens to it. If we document it carefully maybe it will someday win us a Nobel Prize.
3) The grass will grow and cover it.... (It will... until one summer day we turn on the sprinkler, instantly re-constituting the poo-piles into slippery death traps...which will of course be the day the youngest want to run through the sprinkler...)
4) Haz-mat? (Ummm a possibility)
5) Can we move? (a thought to consider...)
A final thought.... there MUST be some chemical or industrial application for this (seemingly) indestructible and renewable (daily) resource.... cars running on dog poo? Roofing made of dog poo? Bricks made of dog poo? I don't know....if only I could come up with something....and patent it... and sell it.... then I'd be able to pay the "poo patrol" to come and take care of it for me.....*sigh*.
Until then.... I'll knit.... in front of the doorwall basking in the pseudo-Spring sun, with the cat.... our eyes on the sunny-blue sky... not the ground...the ultimate in poo -pile denial;)
The dirty beast crouched in the corner. The brave and well armed Knight-ess of clean, raised her bottle of Windex in what could only be percieved as an act of war. The beast growled, for a moment- a strange glow emanated from the dark gape that could be it's mouth. A beep sounded. The Knight-ess wondered if it was an alarm, understood only by like-beasts, calling for help. Glancing to her right and left- she saw no beasts coming to it's aid. A ruse. She saw right through it. Labels: avoidance, housekeeping, medieval microwave cleaning, random domesticity
Undaunted, the shining Knight-ess thrust her paper- towel lance forward. The "SQUEAK" of wet toweling on plastic, metal and glass deafening. Her arm shook with effort. Sweat stood out on her brow. Just when she thought her battle was won, the beast, with new-found dirt (hiding in the not so wonderful too clean, grilling element) struck back. What she thought was clean- alas, was speckled with dried Spaghettio's and tomato soup. Withdrawing her arm, she bumped the glass, leaving a smudge of sweat and (quite possibly) tears. The beasts haunting , blue-green blinking (12:00) eyes glared at her in an assumption of victory.
The Knight-ess dug deep into her soul... with a mighty cry of "Tonight, we dine in CLEAN!" She deftly swiped at the dirt. One. More. Squirt. And the deed, was done. In place of a beast stood a shining clean appliance.
The Evil Microwave was defeated. Clean ruled the kitchen once more. (well- most of it) All hail the Knight-ess! Huzzah! Hoorah! The Knight-ess soon found herself surrounded by a cheering crowd. (wouldn't that be nice?... especially when I clean the floor around the toilet--- I deserve it!)
That night-along with the King and Princes of her beloved home, she not only dined in clean... she dined OUT.
THE END.
Why hasn't anyone invented a self- cleaning microwave??? When I bought this new microwave- I had no idea what trouble would lie in wait. The heating element is a pain to clean around. But- at $50.... I'll put up with it for a while.... it will eventually die of old age- and then.... THEN my friends- I will find the perfect kitchen appliance. (However, with my luck... this microwave will live forever, out of spite. No worries- this Knight-ess of clean (clean enough that is) is capable of leaving a spoon into a cup of tea and reheating it until it either: A) causes a nuclear meltdown- thus destroying the evil microwave or B) Scares everyone in the house with sparking and noise enough to warrant a replacement for breach of trust.
I need to get out more. 'Nuff said.
Please note- I am fully aware that I could have cleaned every Microwave in Michigan in the time it took to post this....but this, my friends, is considerably more therapeutic.
I picked my outfits carefully. I matched shoes and bags. I researched and learned the language of the country I was planning to move to. My guidebooks and insider tip books were dogeared, underlined and packed to go. I had learned the history and political environment of my new homeland. The tools necessary for my survival and comfort, were packed. Everything ready, I counted down to my departure. Labels: mothering, random domesticity
Excited, nervous and a little nauseaus, I boarded my (very bumpy flight) and made it to my destination. Exhausted, I waited at baggage check. All I wanted was to get settled in.
Around and around the luggage carrier went- I saw all kinds of luggage passing me by.... suitcases that looked like mine, but weren't. Duffles like those I'd left at home...But not mine. I stood there long after the last bag was gone. Watching.
Normally- I can roll with most punches. My view is- whatever I forget or lose in travel- can be bought/replaced on arrival. (I'll tell you about trying to find a strapless bra in Germany. Let's just say, I don't speak German, but now know: Busten halter. )
But this wasn't just any trip. This was my voyage to Motherhood. Not a vacation- but a serious life move. And when I arrived? All that packing and preparing? Somehow it didn't arrive when I did. After a bumpy pregnancy, I arrived at motherhood exhausted, travel worn and completely unprepared. Like a traveler who packed "heavy" only to find her luggage lost- I was in trouble.
Yes, I'd read the books. (just about all of them, I swear!) I even had experience with children. But none of it prepared me for motherhood. The "insider guides" (all those Mom written and full of wisdom books) left out so much. The "language in 30 minutes a day" (books by professionals who gave me opposing advice in every book) .....well- they didn't cover the universal baby language of crying. (Mine or the babies;)
After a bumpy pregnancy I arrived exhausted, travel worn and busier than I'd ever been, and completely un-prepared.
Luckily- I was met by a welcome wagon. New to the "mothering neighborhood" I found a group- MOPS International, that helped me fill my new life with the skills, tools and support I needed.
Nobody had all the answers... (a few may have thought they did- but that's just part of being Moms) But together--- we figured it out, got through it and grew. Meeting after meeting...year after year... speaker after speaker convention after convention... slowly my suitcase full of preparations was more than replaced.
It even started overflowing. I still don't have all the answers, (Still think I do sometimes... but my kids are quick to point out the truth.) but I don't feel totally unprepared anymore.
Even when change comes- I know I'll have help. Like for the next phase of mothering I'm quickly entering, there are always other women who've been there- done that- and now proudly wear the t-shirt ready to help the next Mom survive! (You can call me multi-tasking/ multi-phase mom... I have one getting ready for college in the fall, and one going to first grade.. as well as a middle child who'd gladly point out that he is listed last....) we are all about change around here...including my entering my *gasp* forties!
I've never been here before--- but other moms have. And- at MOPS....I know I'll be able to pull on them for support through this too!
If you're a mom- and feel like your luggage didn't arrive at mothering when you did..... you're not alone. And you're welcome to come to MOPS, for a cup of coffee, a little encouragement and a bit of suitcase re-packing;)
(MOPS is an International Support group for Mothers of Preschoolers... please stop by the website and find a local group to be involved with!)
Items from actual grocery list in cart? Check. Labels: how green is green enough? paper or plastic, humor, random domesticity
Decision made about brand of toilet paper? Check. (why is this so hard? side note- my guys have only one request--- no recyled paper product TP... they KNOW it isn't actually recycled Toilet Paper- but paper that's been recycled and made into TP... but they just can't get over the hint of recycled-ness in this case Takes a LOT to gross out my guys--- but this does it. ;)
Coupons remembered, and used? Check.... (Well ,I remembered I had a couple in the bottom of my purse- I get credit for those;)
Child not permanently harmed due to parental paranoia and desire to avoid purchasing 500 candy bars...(PUT THAT DOWN!) and same child still in possession? Check.
Debit Card located, and ready to use? Check. (I can't be the only one with a weekly panic attack because I can't find my debit card... can I?)
Major impulse purchases avoided? Check. (well... mostly.. I think I may have a problem with magazines....)
Just when I thought I'd safely navigated through a trip to the grocery store without incident... it happened........
"Paper, or Plastic, Ma'am?" Asked the boy at the end of the lane...
We shall, for now, ignore the entire "Ma'am" portion of the statement. (It deserves it's own post) For now- let's focus on the guilt inducing question: "Paper, or Plastic?" As in bags. For what felt like forever- I stood, mouth agape and debit card in hand.... In shock and fear. My mind went 1,000 directions at once.
"Paper? Is it recycled? How many trees will I destroy? Plastic? Is it recycled? Is it recyclable? From what source? What chemicals were used in it's making ???? Is this a trick question?" It feels like a set up.
The pressure and weight of the decision was crushing my brain. I felt like a character in an old cartoon.... a giant vice squeezing my head--- it's handle being cranked by a teenaged grocery bagger--- his cartoon voice echoing maniacally as he asks over and over...."Paper or Plastic, MA'AM??????"
All I could think of was why didn't I bring my big blue Ikea bags... perfect for toting so much.... or the cool handmade morsbag I'd been gifted. But, no, I was all worried about toilet paper grocery lists and coupons. I was more concerned about keeping from killing my clepto-kid, (Hey- he doesn't ASK me to buy things--- he PUTS them in the cart... isn't that stealing?) than the good of the Earth... "Can I phone a friend? " I wondered if 411 would have Al Gore's number....
I must have mumbled plastic...Because that's what I got. But- even now..... I'm stressed over the results... it takes 1000 years for a plastic bag to break down??????? and 50 years for a tree to grow to harvest size???? Trees produce oxygen..... I like breathing.... Sheesh. The guilt. Either way.
Next time- I'm taking my own bags... (If, I remember) I don't need the stress;)
So- how bout you? Paper or plastic... or whatever they got? What do you say????
I personally believe (now I sound like a beauty pagent contestant) we should be good stewards of the Earth- as God created it and has given it to our care... but what does that mean? Does it mean Paper? Or Plastic? I couldn't find either one mentioned in the bible.Genesis 1:26-31 (NIV)
Then God said, "Let us make man in our image, in our likeness, and let them rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, over the livestock, over all the earth, and over all the creatures that move along the ground."
So God created man in his own image,
in the image of God he created him;
male and female he created them.
God blessed them and said to them, "Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air and over every living creature that moves on the ground."
Then God said, "I give you every seed-bearing plant on the face of the whole earth and every tree that has fruit with seed in it. They will be yours for food. And to all the beasts of the earth and all the birds of the air and all the creatures that move on the ground—everything that has the breath of life in it—I give every green plant for food." And it was so.
God saw all that he had made, and it was very good. And there was evening, and there was morning—the sixth day.
For now- for us...it means paperbags--- or bring my own... I think. Trees seem more renewable than plastic is degradable...
I also think it means I need some chocolate.....to recover. ;)
PS---- The one thing I have no guilt over- is having used disposable diapers... I'm just that selfish! Besides- they probably saved my guys from watching their mother have a total breakdown over washing and soaking diapers... just sayin;)
Sheesh- can't I just go to the grocery store without drama? Apparently, not.
10:55 p.m. - Arrange covers, 5 year old and dog on bed. Tell everyone to SHUSH. Turn out all but reading light. Wait for the soft tell tale snoring sounds to emanate from the bed. (they are the dog- not the boy.) Labels: parenting, random domesticity, sleep
11:18 p.m. - Turn out light. try to re-arrange covers after using feet and legs like a lever to move hefty beagle.
12:02 a.m. - Wiggle lower in the bed to attempt to cover shoulders. Notice 5 year old laying sidewise in bed, decide not to risk waking him by moving.
12:42 a.m.- Move to outer third of bed- recognizing that size does not determine need for space.
1:15 a.m.: Wriggle, wriggle, scootch, scootch. Hope that arm dangling from bed may provide a counter-weight and keep you from falling out altogether.
1:53 a.m. Sense presense on edge of bed. Tell myself not to freak. Open eyes. See glowing cat eyes staring back at me. Carefully, push cat from bed. When cat whines. Blame dog. (a Mom's gotta have boundaries.)
2:08 a.m.: Shuffle, shuffle. SHOVE. SHOVE. Move dog and child. Pull up covers to not quite shoulders, turn over, close eyes.
2:49 a.m.- Feel a small foot kick Ninja style into the small of my back. Flip child over and tuck very tightly into blankets. Consider getting up to search for pajama's with straight-jacket arms and leg shackles online....
3:03 a.m.- Wake up realizing my arm has fallen asleep because of the strange contortions I must make to stay on the bed. Decide sleep is worth loss of blood-flow. Go back to sleep.
3:27 a.m. : Dream I smell feet.
3:27 and 15 seconds a.m.: Realize it's not a dream.
3:28 a.m. : Realize that I smell feet, because feet are in my face. Turn over. Plan on having Ninja child wear socks to bed tomorrow. (Somehow, a bath never seems to solve stinky foot boy problem)
4:04 a.m.: Smell something worse than feet. Realize the Beagle's breath smells like....... something worse than feet. Push beagle to foot of the bed. In sleep deprived state, apologize to dog for making her move.
4:51 a.m. Pray for alarm to ring.........
You would think, that when the husband travels- I could at least enjoy the extra space in the bed. Not so. When Daddy is gone- everyone vies for his spot. The dog. The child. And- this week, the cat. I keep thinking I'll get a bigger bed- so that the night time visitors will have more room, but I know the truth. They will conquer any space available.
Tonight... everyone is in their own bed.... (I swear!) at least until they wake up to pee... or hear a noise... or are lonely.....or cold..... or can't find a stuffed toy....
Then, it will be me- Crouching Mom on the edge of the bed- while Sleeping Ninja Boy and his beloved sidekick: Bad Breath Beagle battle me until the sun rises.
I can't wait for the Daddy to return... at least he is big and keeps the Ninja and his sidekick limited in space.....besides... He's quite a nice place to warm my feet;)
Labels: consumer product warning, home-keeping, random domesticity
The house was clean, the candle wicks were trimmed and the candles were carefully placed in their holders on the mantle, (safely out of reach of the little ones to coma) and then they were lit. Christmas music was playing from the TV (closed & behind the armoir... we don't have a stereo:( I pods however, we have;)
The ham was in the oven baking away and all was ready to go. My knitting basket was snuggly placed out of the way of the food and chaos- (with projects both in process and gifts ready to be wrapped) next to the fireplace. The Stockings were hung by the chimney with care- in hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there...Sorry bout that... but, it was a picture of Christmas party readiness;) Our family arrived. The kids were anxiously playing upstairs, asking every two minutes, when it would be "present time." All was Happy Christmas chaos and bliss;)
Until, I was taking the ham out of the oven and heard shouts from the living room. Adult shouts. "Tracey! The candle is melting all over!" I ran into the living room to find an absolute WATERFALL of vanilla scented wax dripping off the mantle onto the floor, a longaberger basket full of knitting, wrapped gifts that were placed on the floor (that could have been kindling) the woodwork, wall and the fireplace tools. WHAT A MESS!
Several already finished squares for my Mitered Square Blanket were ruined. 2 Christmas gift- ready headbands (knitty's calorimetry) and a number of skeins of good yarn. Hours and hours of work all ruined. In the 40 minutes from candle lighting to dinner prep, the candle (a large square pillar) had melted through the side, smoked from the top- (leaving soot on my wall) and flowed hot wax like lava over the mantle, down the wall and into my knitting basket and onto the carpet..
Our picture of Christmas bliss had almost become a Christmas inferno. I'd estimate $400 in damages- counting the work involved in the property damaged and the clean up. The knitted objects were a complete loss. The basket is wood- the wax was easy enough to remove but the waxy oily residue will now be a part of the "finish" permenently. Diminishing the collectible value. (yes- I collect them.... I know.. Iknow) How sad. I won't even mention the upset this caused during our Holiday!
I can't tell you how many Partylite candle parties I've been to. I have always found them the highest quality, and best burning. I've never had drip problems and have most certainly NEVER had a lava-flow of dangerous wax before. But this problem? This one has put a damper on my candle use. Quite possibly- a permament one. (They remain out- but unlit. Pretty, but pointless when it comes to candles.)
The pics are all from post clean-up. The waterfall o'wax and most heavily damaged projects/yarn had to be put out to the trash in the middle of the party.
I am posting in hope of saving my readers from a similar potential catastrophe.
Potential- catastrophe because:
1) I never leave candles unattended, or lit, in the reach of little ones. I am so thankful there were observant family members in the living room! Which probably saved us from a house-fire. I'm also glad no little ones wandered over to the wax dripping from the mantle- I was dripped on when I went to clean it up- not an awful burn, but on a little one, it could have been terrible!
2) I take fastidious care of my candles (wick trimming, centering, etc) and rarely use anything but partylite... (which I've always counted on for safety and quality in the past) But even with care- candles can be dangerous and damaging.
3) Compared to what could have been- the damages are upsetting, and a loss, but minimal when you think of the damages a fire would have caused.
So- as you're re-decorating for the new-year, lighting candles you've been given as gifts or getting ready for your next gathering... BE CAREFUL. Candles are fire. Fire is dangerous. (yeah, I know you know.... but you know- I'm a Mom... I have to say it;)
FYI- (mostly on the urging of my mom- a retired insurance adjuster and Grandma supreme...) I've contacted Partylite and am waiting to hear back from them. I will post an update when they respond. Also- as previously said, Partylite Candles have been my absolute favorites.... I hope this was a sad and messy fluke.
But- ladies- (and gentlemen)
Be Careful!
Labels: random domesticity, snow day
The walks are shoveled, the fireplace is lit, cocoa has been served. (Drips and coffee cup bottom shaped chocolate rings are still on the kitchen table, somebody really should clean that up) There are crystalized mittens gloves and snowpants dripping on the hard wood. Shearling slippers have been warmed by the fire, and put on tiny snow reddened feet.
Chili is in the crockpot... and I'm happily knitting while I check my "instant order updates" on Amazon. A little snow? - (ok , a lot of snow) won't stop me from Christmas shopping!
The rest of todays plans? Movies on demand, "Facing the Giants" DVD and "Little House on The Prairie Christmas" DVDs, dinner in front of the fireplace... maybe a bit of shortbread cookie baking...and knitting, lots of Christmas knitting- while my teens play runescape, the little guy thaws, and my tired from shoveling our house and others- DH naps;)
...a perfect snowday. Keep warm- ts
Labels: cleaning no-wax floors, home-keeping, prayer, random domesticity
Funny, how dirty your kitchen floor suddenly looks when you're getting ready to host the holidays, isn't it? OK- funny? Maybe not so much. But, dirty? Absolutely.
I updated my ipod- (am loving the Third Day Christmas album) and broke out the yellow bristled, wooden scrub-brush used by generations of floor cleaning freaks before me. I filled my mop bucket with the hottest water I could coax from the tap, added a cup (maybe more) of sudsy ammonia (to which I was repeatedly told-"It smells like lemons and pee in here" ) and a cup of Armstrong Floor Cleaner.
I put on my very "me" rubber gloves. And, set to work. Let's just say I'm not so sure about the floor- but my sinuses are quite cleared and I have inhaled enough ammonia to be under no risk of fainting for the foreseeable future...
"Slop. Swish. Scrub. Scrub. Scrub. Wipe. Scoot. Repeat." For 2 hours. I slowly made my way around the kitchen floor. I was working to remove 8 years of mop-n-glow build up which had become one with both the flooring and the dirt. As a side note- if you're looking to create a permanent surface- and don't mind if it's ugly... I highly recommend the combination. Seems to be impermeable....well- to anything but dirt.
The first day- (yes, this has been a multi day process) I scrubbed away a layer or two. But, half way through the kitchen I pooped out, and started scrubbing with less voracity. I finished with the mop. Minimal progress made.
The second day- I remembered reading somewhere- to let the chemicals do their thing--- (i.e. let the cleaner set for a minute before starting to scrub) and made better progress. I started at the opposite end of the kitchen-just in case I pooped out again....which, I did.
By the third day- my knees were bruised and my sinuses had been scorched. But. The floor. Is (mostly) clean. The wax and dirt finish has been removed. I'm getting ready to put on a few coats of new (dirt magnetically charged- I'm sure) wax. My sides are aching, (from all the bending and swishing....n scrubbing) my sinuses are creating scar tissue and my knees will never be the same. (I'm secretly hoping they will be better- and that the chemicals I've been kneeling in will have stunted the growth of hair on my very Italian legs) I'm tired- and am considering moving the stove and fridge out one inch farther. ( To ummmm... cover the line of demarcation where the scrub-brush will and will not fit)
But- my heart is lighter. Somewhere around day 2 of the great floor scrubbing challenge- I realized I haven't spent this much time on my knees in way. too. long. Not in the floor scrubbing sense.. (though admittedly a little more of that done would have improved this situation- earlier) But, in the altar of prayer sense.
My faith tradition does not have set times to kneel together, in prayer as part of a typical "service" . We often pray standing up- or seated or some combination there-of. Personally-I believe that prayer is ongoing communication with God- like breathing- it's just part of what I do each day. But- as far as specific- intent, time spent in prayer- lately- it's been a little like my kitchen floor. A frequent good mopping, but no real knee bending, deep scrubbing.
While I was scrubbing away- I realized I had an opportunity to spend some time- in focused meditative, prayer. And so, I did.
Good thing- too- as we're entering the Holiday craziness.... (OK I may already be full on Christmas crazy- hence the floor restore;) I don't want to get so caught up in the "stuff" of Christmas that I miss the heart of it.
Dear Lord- I ask that you'd constantly remind me to pray.... whether I'm on my knees or in the shower- help me to listen to you as well as to talk.....help me to be focused on you and spreading your love..not on clean floors and perfect gift wrapping...I do love you Lord- amen
The holidays will be here in no time... I don't mean the season of the holidays... I mean the holiday party! I mean Christmas Eve. It will be HERE. At my house. In no time. For me- this equates to a month of furious cleaning- and touching up and wishing my kitchen floor would renew itself over night. (That good old cheap vinyl flooring--- so shiny nice until the dirt gets ground in and no manner of cleaning will improve it. You have no idea how dirty a kitchen floor can get when 3 men in hunting boots repeatedly tromp through it- regardless of a Mother's tormented screams! ) Is there a limit as to how many throw rungs one can have in any given room???? (Currently the solution to my worn flooring- is to cover spots with throw rugs;) So- I'm cleaning. And clearing. And de-cluttering. Too much yarn. It must go. Baby items? Ummmm, I'm 39, my oldest is going to college in the fall, and the youngest will be entering first grade. I don't exactly have a need for baby items, cute as they may be. In addition- my tubes are tied (TMI- but true) ...I think it's safe to give away the "baby stuff" ;) There are boxes from when we moved 8 years ago- that haven't been opened.....I'm sure there are things in there that I no longer need. (Or, have a clue what they could be;) To be honest- I've also had a bag of clothes in my bedroom ready to be given away for months. I also have a box of books, ready to go. In my bedroom. Now- as I daily focus on an area to clean... I'm finding all kinds of useful (for others- not so much for us) stuff. Coats out-grown, shoes (who BUYS all these shoes, anyways?) too small, past season, stuff never opened- and no longer needed- or won't be missed. Thus far- I've done pretty well at getting things ready to give away---but actually doing it? Well- that's another story. (See the box of books and the bag of clothes mentioned above. ) Until now. I've found Free-cycle signed up for a local group, and now, all I have to do is send an e-mail - see who can use what I have- set up a time for pick-up and put it on the porch.** Voila. What once was clutter- is now someone's treasure. I'll admit- it's much easier than loading up the truck- toting stuff all over trying to find a place to donate it, and ending up at an undisclosed shopping location with new stuff in bags to bring home.....(that's a bit counter productive, wouldn't you say?) Free-cycle is a mom's best friend- eliminates the waste of tossing usable items, meets the needs of those locally, and provides an easy OUT for the stuff that needs to go gracefully from our homes. I'll admit- however- that my first pick-up has been a little stressful. I was flooded with requests for the offer, and hated to have to say it was already spoken for. There are also some pretty serious needs posted- and I could see one being quickly overwhelmed or feeling like you have to help everyone.....which is just plain not possible. The key will be remembering the legend of the starfish, and knowing that you make a difference to each one you help. Are you cleaning like a maniac? As you get tready for the holiday season- do you recognize how blessed you are- and want an avenue to help others? Do yu have the "mom-rule" of cleaning out - giving away old toys before new ones can come in? I highly recommend Freecycle as a way to bless others with what you no longer need, or, with whatever you can cheerfully and generously give. ** if preferred- you can arrange other methods of delivery- I just like the ease of porch pick up.For me- generosity and giving- is all about Jesus and loving His people. Each one. Dear Jesus- As we go through our holidays- and everyday- help us to find ways to make a difference one person at a time. I love you Lord- amen- EDITED- To add- Wordpress is being stubborn and weird today-(like not allowing spacing between paragraphs and putting EVEYRYTHING in italics) I apologize about the formatting issues- Will try to fix later- I have meetings this afternoon;) Labels: freecycle, generosity, home-keeping, random domesticity
Labels: cooking, dead microwave, flower basket shawl, free knitting pattern, humor, Lace, random domesticity
It's just one of the many things I am culinarilary (just made that word up- I like it) dependant on.
It takes up my counter space and requires constant cleaning. (Why can't ANYONE put paper-towel or a napkin over what they are cooking???? Including me:()
Like a magic black box- (sometimes considerably brighter than me) it heats everything from spaghettios to cold coffee-it has faithfullyu served.
In addition- as a SAHM- it is one of my few and much trusted friends/co-workers. The microwave- has just been so close to me- being in the kitchen and all--- where I spend so much of my waking LIFE!) (along of- course, with the washer-dryer, the stove, dishwasher and fridge- we also chat- but they tend to be more reserved.)
At least- it was. Until Sunday night.
When my microwave gave up the ghost.
We (ok- maybe it was just me) quickly went through all the phases of grief:
Shock- (WHAT? Something is wrong with my microwave?)
Denial- (It's just a fuse- it'll be fine)
Bargaining- (Maybe, if I clean it- it will work...)
Guilt- (maybe I worked it too hard...I should have cleaned the vent more often.. it's all my fault.)
Anger- (I can't believe I ever bought such a piece of crap!)
Depression- (I have no microwave. *sniff* )
Acceptance/hope- (I can get another microwave... maybe it will even be better! I CAN live without a microwave!)
By Monday night- I could stand it no more. There was no popcorn... I am incapable of cooking vegetables on the stove-top and I had a pile of pans with burnt spaghettios begging to be cleaned (that part isn't true- I swear FlyLady!- but sounded funny) ...so I trudged off to Walmart- in search of a replacement.
I stood in the microwave aisle like a deer caught in the headlights of oncoming traffic. I had no idea there would be so many demands on me so soon after my grief. Overwhelmed, I looked from shiny microwave to shiny microwave.
There were: White ones. Black ones. Stainless steel ones. Microwaves the size of my first car. Microwaves barely big enough to make a bag of popcorn. Microwaves with grilling capabilities and microwaves with more buttons and options and computer memory than my laptop.
I settled on a (cheap) stainless/black model with a grilling capability. (Which I will probably never use- but- my kids (probably to bring green army men to a painfilled, melting doom) will.
As you can see in the pic above- she now proudly sits on the countertop. Maybe, a little too proudly. Although, she's already proved competent in the cooking of last nights green beans, I have a concern. She seems to be glaring at the toaster and cavorting with the coffeepot. I think she is unhappy with the cultural diversity on the countertop.
Apparently the toaster is not of their "ethnicity". White plastic is frowned upon by the much prejudiced stainless crew. Too bad. It's my house.
I like cultural diversity.
I think I need to get out more.
Instead- I'll distract you with my shiny pretty current knit:
In a fit of unoriginal hat overload rebellion- I cast on a new piece of lace that I plan on wering for Christmas.
It's the Flower Basket Shawl- from Fibertrends/ interweave press. A very simple 10 row repeat. I love the yarn- Zephyr silk/wool laceweight- 2 strands held together- Ruby and Garnet. I'm knitting on US size 5 Addi Turbo Lace Needles.
Maybe this will calm my Christmas cleaning- shopping nerves.... more pics are on flickr.
Personally- I think it's mis-named. To me- it looks like angels with their wings raised over their heads.... like this- but then- I think I need to get out more--- or maybe use less fumey cleaning supplies;)
And now- to work on painting the trim where the bad cat has scratched away the wood AND the paint....
Labels: blanket, halloween, mitered square afghan, random domesticity
Halloween is a bit controversial- I know- if you want to read a bit of my persepctive on it- you can visit my last post at Laced with Grace .
Although things are festive- they don't get too scary around here- with the exception of my personal re-enactment of the prom scene from "Carrie".
I died my roots. As you may have guessed by now- I am not exactly a natural redhead. EVERY single time I am in the shower rinsing out the burgundy goopy dye--- I think about the prom scene......gross.
That was random- sorry- too much sugar.
Wonder if I can balance that out with caffeine?
For dinner- The older men had Sushi- that's too scary for me. I passed and had grocery store middleastern food;) Tabbouleh, hummous, pita and falafel. ;)
Noah was his traditional "Spiderman" I asked him if he was sure he wanted to be spiderman AGAIN this year- and he said - "Mom, I AM Spiderman." Enough said.
The second most scary thing about Halloween around here- is Pumpkin carving. Mostly because of the smell. An interesting (or not so much) tid-bit about me- is that since a nose job at 16- I don't really have much of a sense of smell.... but Pumpkin guts? That, I can smell. AND I HATE IT. Instead of actually carving- I read this book aloud- The Pumpkin Gospel. It glows in the dark- So we also read it in the bathroom, with the door closed. (darkest place we could find) Umm- I suppose the boys/men around here- start their bathroom reading habits young.
I thought about wearing a clothespin on my nose- but that seemed a bit un-festive. So I was in charge of pictures. Daddy really came thru- Noah desperately wanted the "Pirate ship" Pumpkin... Which is usually WAY beyond our pumpkin skill set--- but Daddy took his time- and actually DID IT! Score another one for Dad.
The older two did finally get off of "Runescape" long enough to go out- (hey there is free candy involved- they aren't too old for that...) The oldest- wore his full camo hunt suit. ANd the Middle- was "The Guitar Hero" Complete with guitar.... because he IS the Guitar hero- Matt is unbelievable on that game. I, however- stink. BTW- Guitar Hero III? It well- it rocks.
While the rest play- Noah and I dance. That, we can do.
Noah has a bit of croup- so he didn'yt hit as many houses as he normally would... but he seems to be quite happy with his "haul."
Tomorrow I plan to post a tutoriAL FOR PLAnning your Mitered Square blanket--- stay tuned!
