my big boys are side-by-side

It doesn't happen very often, but when it does, it makes me H-A-P-P-Y!

 To me, it sometimes feels like they're still the munchkins I used to dress alike.

cookies won't fix the floors, but they do fix the mood

We've had a lot of beautiful snow so far this year.

The temps have been so frigid there has been no melting.

This means I have looked out the window everyday at a giant snow heart in the front yard.

 Which is better than focusing too much on what's going on INSIDE...

Demolition and renovation is long, hard work.

The left half of the kitchen still looks dark and dreary.

The right half is white and bright; Dub made great strides over the holiday break.

 Our stainless microwave is installed.

The stainless range/ovens are mostly installed.

There is a dishwasher and a refrigerator in the garage.

The flooring/counters have not been ordered.

There is MUCH left to be done.

Walking around on cement-crusted plywood is not something you can do in your bare feet.  It's a good thing this cold weather has us all wearing wool socks and warm slippers anyway... 

 Within minutes of power to the ovens, there was a fresh batch of cookies in the oven.

If you can't have smooth floors and a lack of chaos in the basic kitchen environment, you CAN have cookies.

Road Trip!

 Just Sweet Mesquite and I.

We loaded up the party-mobile last Friday at lunch time, and hit the road for New.York.City!

Ta-dah!

The drive was fun--we talked about school and summer plans and life; and before we knew it, we were on the lookout for our mystery accommodations on West 38th Street.

I booked our reservations many months ago using Expedia, and found a place in the Theatre District.  Having been there before using the same planning strategy, I figured we couldn't go wrong.  Boy!  I might have been wrong.

We laughed.

A LOT.

First, because we followed our GPS to our destination, and drove down the street, and didn't see it. 

Anywhere.

We circled around the block and tried again.

Then, we laughed again when we spotted the fancy entrance:

That awning with plastic and duck tape was our 'welcome home' and howdy-do to The Americana Inn.

I know--pretty snazzy.

When we climbed the narrow staircase to the tiny second floor lobby (with no air conditioning), we were met with a busy, sort of ruffled looking fellow behind an unimpressive counter.  He checked us in, gave us our room key, and told us the bathrooms were shared.

I was beginning to wonder if I had inadvertently checked the "hostel" box instead of "hotel" box on my reservation requirements.

 We made our way to the third floor room to which he gave us the key.  We opened the door to find this:

 Sweet, SWEET Mesquite exclaimed with delight 

"Oh look!... Free Stu....." 

when it abruptly dawned on her that the toiletry bag and other assorted personal belongings were NOT free stuff. 

I wasn't even remotely TEMPTED by the cool-looking red shoes.  That's how weird-ed-out I felt.

And I'm thinking "Oh fantastic... we're going to be undressing or slumbering, and someone ELSE is going to come waltzing into OUR room."   It was a tiny bit unsettling.

I wasn't really feeling up for the whole Goldilocks thing.  I laughed again, to protect very very sweet Mesquite from having terrifying thoughts (like her mother) and also because I thought of my traveling Mr. Dub, who would NOT have thought these were suitable accommodations.

I laughed nervously as we shut the door, and, because nervous adrenaline triggers the need to take care of certain bodily functions, we took turns standing guard outside the third floor bathroom with our belongings.  Then we returned to the lobby and told the even busier and more ruffled looking attendant that we needed a do-over.  Our second try was better, and we didn't have to climb any stairs this time.  I think the laughing we were doing at this point was more out of relief to finally plop our stuff down in a private (albeit VERY tiny) space.

At this point in our adventure, Mesquite did have the forethought to suggest that we study the emergency exit plan on the back of our door.  I was all for it.  As we stood there deciphering it, I realized that our designated exit plan was out the window and on to the fire escape.  I lifted the blinds and laughed again (really, sort of hysterically at this point) as I made the observation that we were not in close enough proximity to be able to reach the fire escape.  It was attached to a neighboring room, which we would only be able to enter by navigating three hallways first.  We decided that jumping from the second story window and risking broken limbs would be better than trying to find our neighbor's door and beg for admittance onto the fire escape. 

We had arrived, and we now had a plan.

(...to be continued...)

It's time to be accountable

For "the list."
Which will soon disappear from the margin of my blog, thankfully.
Let me preface this by saying that for 2011 there will be no published list;
just to help me continue to adhere my principled self to #19 on this year's list.
And I give to you:

MY LIST FOR 2010
1. Clean out my closets. - meh.  Some things just aren't meant to be.
2. Say "I Love You" more. - I even told Mr. Morning's kneecaps how much I loved them today.
3. Read the Book of Mormon. - still reading.
4. Spend less money at the grocery store. - meh.
5. Only ONE trip to the store per week. - can I stop being accountable now?
6. Plan a WEEKLY MENU + shopping list. - C+ BUT, in the interest of #16 below, I have now delegated this job to a teenager who loves food.
7. Be aware. Laugh more. - I absolutely laughed more.
8. Breathe deeply. - amen. and OHHHHHHMMMMMmmmmm.
9. Visit one spot never been to before. - check.
10. Take a hike with my family. - checkety-check-check.
11. Read to Morning Boy everyday. - this has been my absolute pleasure.
12. Send a hand-written note every week. - almost a guilty pleasure.
13. Participate in Resolutionary Challenge. - one of the best things I did this year.
14. Use sewing machine, make something I like. - Yes.  But what I liked more, was helping my daughter to use the sewing machine to make something SHE liked.
15. Be a 100% visiting teacher. - I won't tell you too much about this except to say when I go into the home of these amazing women with the intention of bringing something good, I always leave feeling that I am the lucky recipient.
16. Be a RSP who delegates more. - a work in progress.
17. Play games regularly. - if monkey business counts, A++.
18. Learn something NEW! - it's my daily quest.
19. RELAX more, volunteer less. - I'm late to this party, but OH, it's good.
20. Be prepared. resolve to be ready. - The next ice storm that hits will find me flipping pancakes for the neighborhood.  It's not a steak dinner, but we'll make it.

some tidbits

Enrique came home for the 12 brief minutes between seminary and time-to-leave-for-school this morning and had a plateful of leftover pasta sprinkled generously with Parmesan cheese for breakfast.

Yonder was asked to drive the two full-time missionaries serving in our area to Nashua for a dentist appointment today, so he climbed right out on the ladder and started painting the house at 7:45 this morning.  He's determined to git'er done before the end of the day.

My eyes are puffy and sting from an array of emotions that happened to peak at bedtime last night... Roonie had the first cross-country track meet of her career yesterday, and I couldn't make it.  I lived through about 35 minutes of panic when she went off the radar screen for an hour after the meet; nobody had seen her, she wasn't where she was supposed to be (for pick-up) and no one could find her.  It was a series of phone conversations, dealing with the unknown and tracking hazy leads that escalated my anxiety and terror before I heard her voice over a kind person's cell phone and learned that she was waiting--and fine.  It took several hours (after knowing everything was okay) to feel the comfort and relief I needed; couple that with the tender heart syndrome I'm experiencing as we prepare to part with our first born for two years, and I'm good for just about nothing today.  Which is fine with me.

I can no longer see my bedroom clock.  From my bed or anywhere else in the room.  I have plastic totes full of off-season clothing waiting to be changed stacked so high that I am keeping time with my body clock.  Thank goodness for my sweet and faithful seminary-going daughter Mesquite who gets up faithfully every morning at 5am without my help.  SHE is my real sense of time--my body clock is completely unreliable.

Our ward choir director (with a fairly common and completely 1950s American name) lives in town.  She moved in about a month ago, and used her cell phone as her main means of communication.  She called me happily to announce that she now had a landline, and to ask one of our daughters to babysit.  I hesitated to pick up the phone the first time she called--since the caller ID function makes it so easy (most of the time) to see who is calling.  I took my chances and timidly said "hello?..." and then laughed when I heard her voice. To me, she is now affectionately known as "Toth Ildiko."

The night I made the pasta dish Enrique ate for breakfast this morning, I bent over to pull it out of the oven as Enrique was opening a new jar of Parmesan cheese behind me.  Before I could stand up, a cloud of cheese *POOFed!* from the space above me, and covered my head and shoulders.  I laughed as I realized what had happened, and casually brushed off the cheese as best as I could and went about my dinner preparations.  Later that evening as I was sitting down with Mister Dub to talk with him as he ate, his eyes migrated to my scalp and he quietly asked "Is it that time of year again?" to which I laughed and felt IMMENSELY grateful that the white-ish bits in my hair were only cheese, and NOT lice.

Today is the first full day of Autumn.  I'm going outside to breathe the crisp air and to artfully arrange the pumpkins that survived "the summer of the groundhog."   I'm also planning (my plans are often bigger than my follow-through) to thin out the jungle of dying perennials to make room for some nice hearty mums.

Enjoy!~

Comfort Food

I've been diverging from the standard menu this week.

There is change in the air.

Transition brings a swath of emotions and turbulence at all levels.

Thank goodness for a good meal at the end of the day.

A quorum of children have not felt the warmth in my dinner choices.

Who am I trying to comfort with this food?

Happy Mothers Day to all you deserving Moms

This first one's from Kellly Corrigan.  I liked her book Lift.

The next is from Stephanie Nielson.

You deserve to feel love, no matter who you are.
Happy Mother's Day!
xo

Combatting Clutter

One day at a time.

It's not perfect, but it's better.

Closet Orphans trimmed down SIGNIFICANTLY.
Baby steps.

And thanks to a visit from the lovely Christine Vick of Store and Style , I'm one step closer to crossing something off my list, and having my cluttery spaces de-cluttered.

Go me!

PROCRASTINATION

I'm good at it.

I know exactly where NOT to walk,

where NOT to look

and what NOT to do.

So here I am.

Agh!~

Don't Be Afraid.

That's what I keep telling myself.

THIS is my project for the week.

What kind of parents are we?

We spent Saturday (in a soaking rain) enjoying a company-sponsored outing at Canobie Lake Park, in Salem New Hampshire. It's a great place--one of the old-time amusement parks with an old rickety wooden roller coaster, a grand Merry-go-Round and lots of fabulous and family-friendly old amusements. We look forward to this day each September, and this year was no exception. We missed our college boy, but enjoyed the fact that our youngest is now big enough to enjoy some of the more adventurous rides with us. As the afternoon wore on, we decided on the Flume. This is a log ride in a fabricated river of water that culminates in a very fast drop from a height-y peak. Mr. Morning climbed in with me for the first ride, and although I remember him gripping me rather seriously on the drop, he seemed to enjoy it, and quickly asked if we could do it again.
One of the fun parts of riding the Flume is that you get your picture taken from a stationary camera at the dropping point, and the kids love to run to the picture booth to look at themselves on the ride. When we saw the little man's expression on the first run, we pledged to come back and consider purchasing it for a keepsake. Have a look:(you may be able to click on the image to make it bigger) The second time through, he decided to ride with dad. He was SO excited to be going again, although his facial expression might convince you otherwise:

I laughed so hard, I cried. Then I wanted to cry for real, because I thought "What kind of parents subject their four-year old son to this kind of terror while the rest of us are whooping with adrenaline and joy?" It's hard not to feel torn. And it's hard not to laugh at the poor little guy. We dropped the axe on the request for a third trip down the river... and after looking at his images long enough, he heartily agreed that two times was enough.

the piles peak (and welcome!)

Got home after my three-hour annual Music Aiders meeting tonight, where my intention was to resign as secretary; I won't say much about how that went, except to tell you that I have pages and pages of notes to process and type into official minutes to send out to the rest of the board. The kids all ate dinner and put themselves to bed. That was pretty sweet. And the dishes were even mostly loaded into the dishwasher. The big stuck-on greasy pans and stuff? No worries. That'll all still be waiting when we wake up.

It's now mid-week: the hard reality of my prolific piles stares right back at me. So I'm turning in. School papers, RS notes, Music Aider meeting minutes, ice cream social assignments, bills to pay, information to file can all wait. Just keeping the worries small. And the blog real.

And putting any unfounded thoughts that I keep a house clear of clutter and dust bunnies right to bed.

I do wonder how the laundry seems to procreate right there on the floor...

And how we seem to have a hard time maintaining enough of a food supply for just us, but we have legos for the entire neighborhood.

You're welcome at my house ANYTIME. Just don't look in my cupboards. And know that I might lose you in the mess.

What I did NOT go to the park to realize

Let me tell you right up front that when I announced to my younger children that we could go to the park tonight, it was with mainly selfish motives. We made the soccer practice drop-off, and headed over to the playground with almost 90 minutes of "wait time" ahead of us. I brought my reading material for May along, and even some apples and a water bottle. That's right; kids play, mom reads. My days of trailing toddlers through the equipment are OVER. After almost 18 years of following, I'm feeling more than ready to take up my new position: on the bench. And this is how it went down.

I settled myself in a very central location, knowing that even though I was about to completely lose myself in a novel, I could still be available, should something need watching or should someone require a little cheering on. I even refused to get up to help my own flesh across the monkey bars. No way. I was letting my guard down. Indulgence in the form of fresh air reading. With happy-children-playing noises in the background.

I should have known better. Once you commit to this thing called motherhood, is there really a moment when you can totally let the guard completely fall? I know I read at least a few paragraphs. I have no idea what they said. My radar was honing in on a major distraction: adolescent pubescent tweens. They were using most of the swings and camping out on one of the slides. At first I thought I could deal with it. My radar became the glare of a hawk. I was taken aback by some of the posturing, physical inuendo and general behavior of two of the people on the slide. I felt my glare intensifying, and I wanted to burn a message into their 12 or 13 year old brains: Someone's mother is watching you. They weren't receiving it. I found myself becoming irritated at their seeming indifference. Preschool age children were having to avoid the slide, because the tweens were oblivious to the fact that they were in the way. Not only were they in the way, they were on display. I tried to look the other way. I tried not to care. I couldn't do it. I wanted to know if they would be doing the same things or saying the same things if it wasn't me there at the park; if it were one of their parents instead. I wanted to follow them home and ask their parents if they were alright with what was going on while they weren't watching. Actually, I became so torqued-up about it, I couldn't sleep after getting into bed tonight. My thoughts spilled-over from the playground to the school bus. To recess. To environments that I cannot control, or in many cases, even see. It was intimidating. The tiny forces of a parent, versus the enormous influence of the world. I had to get out of bed and seek something comforting. I opened this month's Ensign magazine to an article called "Gifts to Help Us Navigate Our Life." It was a good beginning.

Back at the park? In a voice that was as controlled as I could make it, I asked them to move so the kids could use the slide. They weren't quick and they weren't even polite about it. Female tween gave me a crusty stare. Honestly? I didn't care. I wanted to say SO much more, but knew that it would have fallen on deaf ears. What I DID say (later to my husband) was that I now know that I will NEVER be able to let my guard down at the playground. And I'm okay with that.

Why I ruined the french fries

Last week we celebrated a birthday.

Because it's tradition, the birthday person selects the menu for his or her special day.

This time it was home made popcorn chicken and french fries.

It's not a very healthy meal, but it was a labor of love,

and the house smelled like a fry-daddy for the next two days.

The birthday boy filled his plate first, and we all enjoyed plenty-o-food.

At one point, someone lifted their goblet to drink, and the beverage spilled on the nearby plate of french fries. One of the kiddos started to scold the spiller, and pointed out that the birthday fries were going to be mushy. The perpetrator was starting to feel bad. It showed. It was silly, really, because everyone had eaten more than enough.

And me?

Well, I had just finished reading "The Last Lecture" by Randy Pausch, and many of his messages were still fresh in my head.

One of the chapters mentions an incident when he drives to his sister's house to pick up his neice and nephew in his brand-new convertible. His sister was admonishing her children to be careful in their uncle's new car. She was telling them to wipe their feet before getting in, not to mess anything up, not to get it dirty. The uncle wisely perceived that she was setting this 8 and 9 year old up for failure, because eventually they were probably going to get the car dirty. So he made things easy, and opened a can of soda and deliberately poured it all over the back seats of the convertible.

His message: People are more important than things.

The french fries? Just things. So I stood up, took my goblet, and dumped the whole thing on the plate of french fries, smiled and said "they're just french fries."

P.S. I really liked this book.

It was quick and meaningful.

I plan on reading it again. Soon.

Easter--no candy coating

Wouldn'tcha know that sometime last week Mr. Morning himself approached me and asked me the age old (well not quite that old) question "Mom, is the Easter Bunny real?" ...Well paint me a polka-dot easter bunny and sit me in the plastic green grass. I honestly felt overjoyed at the opportunity to answer this one. "No, little mister," I said, "the Easter Bunny is NOT real." I've always played along, but never forced the issue. And the five kids that have gone before him have never managed to ask. In my most loving and motherly way, I proceeded to lay it out. I think it was a delightful revelation for him, and it allowed me to call it 'just for fun' and 'pretend' and move on with life. So don't get all crazy on me and ask questions about other holidays and American traditions, because I won't answer. At least not here. What I will tell you, is that the Easter Bunny and I have parted ways. I'm looking forward to spending the rest of Easter week allowing him to be excited about candy and eggs and all that, but also taking advantage of some quiet time to really teach him about Easter.

After Thursday, I'll add a link to Elder Jeffrey Holland's amazing conference talk on this subject.

For the reader in you.

My delightful escape from the realities of March:

I have finished my very enjoyable book for this month. I feel like I'm saying good-bye to some dear friends, and will miss them. Two of my very favorite things: writing letters and reading, play a very big part in how this book is written, and how it evolves. Another WWII era story, taking place mainly on the island of Guernsey, in the channel islands, including some fascinating facts about the way the people in these islands endured the occupation. A witty, intelligent main character with a bit of a rebellious streak endeared me to the narration of a life I wanted to believe was not a work of fiction. I laughed, I sighed, I almost cried. Five stars. Now I can get on with the rest of my month.

May Day

my ship is sinking... I'm following counsel and 'staying IN the boat.'

But we're taking on water:

(ie fevers, coughs, mountains of laundry, dirty dishes, sleep deprivation, sticky floors, RS lesson to prepare for Sunday, school projects, no husband until late Saturday, no motivation.)

Cranky reigns.

Stability level: dangerous
Where's the Calgon when you need it most?