JustMamaforaYear

New and Improved

2019-03-23T17:04:00.000-07:00

All summer long I have been on a mission to totally rework my habits, clean the house, and establish a stay at home mama cooking routine. I am pleased to say that Mike and I have officially combed though and organized every shelf, drawer, closet and cabinet in the air-conditioned portion of our house. The garage has just a small section left with boxes of stuff that needs to be gone through, but I am hopeful that with one week left before Mike returns to work we will be able to fit that in the schedule as well. My plan is to take my precious hour in the evening, when the girls are sleeping, to go through one box a night until it is all finished. Mike is super proud of his new and improved wife who is no longer a hoarder but thoroughly downsized and organized.

At Naomi’s 2 month appointment her pediatrician couldn’t believe this darling, smiling, cooing baby was the same one that was covered in pimples and howling through her 1 month check up. She noted how perfectly clear her skin is now, and when I explained that it began to clear up the 2^nd day I started the MSPI diet she said that just shows what a very sensitive allergy she has and what a great job I am doing. (with Elvis accent: Thank you! Thank you very much! )

Naomi, it seems, does not only have milk/soy protein intolerance, but a gluten one as well. The newest food sensitivity was discovered when I took communion a couple Sundays ago (just the Host, not the communion wine) and she was miserable all day. I’ve purchased only gluten free flour and bread from that moment on and since then she’s been right as rain.

This whole experience has been a good thing because I have IBS (irritable bowl syndrome) and I wasn’t supposed to be indulging in milk products anyway-a habit that I had due to my love of Italian cheesy things and pizza. Allergen free meal planning has forced me to cook everything nearly from scratch and super fresh. Mike is in his glory with home cooked meals 2-3 times a day with the exception of corn or rice cereal with rice milk, fruit, and rice or coconut yogurt for breakfast during the weekdays. (I only have energy to cook hot breakfasts on the weekends.)

The cookbooks I ordered (The Milk Soy Protein Intolerance (MSPI) Guidebook/Cookbook by Tamara Field and Allergen-Free Baker's Handbook by Cybele Pascal) have provided us with a way to enjoy some fantastic baked goods like Mike’s Vanilla birthday cake with vegan chocolate icing, pumpkin bread, and chocolate cupcakes. The brown sugar cookies are Jenna’s favorites to make because she get to play with the dough which she calls hot potato, but I can’t figure out why! J

Technology is an amazing and wondrous thing because I was able to find a support group for kids with allergies and they recommended some online grocery distributors. I ordered gluten, soy & dairy free items from Navan Foods https://www.navanfoods.com/and gluten free sample kit and bread sample kit from Ener-g http://www.ener-g.com/. We also have a store about 40 minutes away that offers a lot of great products called Nature’s Market http://www.naturesmarketmelbourne.com/ and we made a trip to Fresh Market after the airport drop off in Orlando to pick up some new products there too. As promised, I have documented the results of our taste testing:

Brand	Type of food	Rating scale 1 to 10	Comments
Ener-g	White Rice Bread	1	Tastes like stale cardboard or “Yucky-poopy bread” as Jenna puts it.
Udi’s Gluten Free Foods White Sandwich Bread	White Rice Bread	8	They can be found in the frozen foods section of Publix and actually tastes really delicious when toasted. If Jenna eats it you know it is yummy. J
Ener-g	ginger snap cookies	9	Really yummy, you almost forget they are butter free.
Enjoy Life	ginger spice soft baked cookies	3	Ok but not great.
Enjoy Life	snickerdoodle soft baked cookies	2	Tolerable but not great according to Mike and I but Jenna ate two so I couldn’t give them a 1.
Enjoy Life	caramel apple snack bars	1	Jenna: “This tastes like it has boogers in it. I no like it!” Mindy (the dog) finished it.
Enjoy Life	very berry snack bars	2	Mike and I ate them because they were expensive. Jenna wouldn’t touch it.
Glutino	Blueberry Breakfast Bar	9	These are Delicious! I was very impressed and actually ate a whole box (minus one for Mike). They are pricey but worth it to have a snack to carry around.
Daiya: Deliciously Dairy Free cheddar style shreds	Cheddar “cheese”	6	Gross if eaten cold but not bad melted on a burger or mixed in scrambled eggs.
Daiya: Deliciously Dairy Free Mozzarella	Mozzarella “cheese”	2	The product advertises that you can finally enjoy pizza but I thought it tasted horrid. Mike ate the remaining slices.
So Delicious	Coconut Water Mango Sorbet	10	Smooth and super yummy!
So Delicious	Coconut Milk Vanilla Bean Ice Cream	10	Everything this company makes has been a HUGE hit! You can really taste the coconut in this.
So Delicious	Organic Mini Fudge Bar	10	By far Jenna and my favorite! They are amazingly chocolately and only 70 calories (30 from fat) a bar so people who want a treat without overindulging would love these.
So Delicious	Coconut Milk Yogurt	10	We’ve tried blueberry, chocolate, and vanilla and they are all fabulous. A great way to get those probiotics without having to take pills.
So Delicious	Coconut Milk	8	I use this in baking but don’t really like the taste all that much as milk alone. I describe it as soapy tasting water with coconut extract. Mike loves it though.
Rice Dream	Rice Milk	9	Best of the kinds of milk aside from almond milk to drink. Great on cereal and I use it in baking all the time.
Silk	Rice Milk	8	My second favorite brand for rice milk.
Whole Foods	Rice Milk	5	This has a bit of a chalky burnt rice flavor to me. I could take it or leave it.
Blue Diamond Almond Breeze	Almond Milk	10	If I could drink this I would but Naomi seemed to have a hard time after several attempts so I eliminated it from my diet. Great tasting though! Nutty, slightly sweet, and delicious.

Through all of our experimenting, we’ve made some very valuable discoveries about healthy foods.

Just because it is healthier and fewer calories doesn't mean you can eat double the amount-(YES, Michael I’m talking to YOU!)

1 Ingredients are misleading. Just because it has caramel or chocolate doesn’t mean it tastes good.

2 Don’t let your child sample the items unattended. I found more gluten-free breakfast bars and cookies smashed in between the couch cushions or in the car seat than I care to document- and those are just the ones that Mindy didn't get to before me.

Most importantly, don’t buy products with labels that advertise the flavor has been enhanced. EXAMPLES:

New and Improved Taste Translation: Our product used to be unfit for human consumption and most likely still is, but with FDA approval.

Now Even Tastier Translation: Used to taste like sawdust, now we added fruit!

Great New Flavor Translation: Your dog will love it!

Other than that, everything seems to be going great. Mike has lost 16 pounds and Jenna cleans her plate most evenings without much of a struggle. When I had to add gluten to the list of no-no’s I really started to worry that I wasn't going to find enough food to eat to continue to stay healthy, curb my hunger, and continue to breastfeed. But I feel better now that I’m not having stomach pains after each meal (which was a former 2x + a week occurrence). It’s amazing how you don’t realize you were feeling poorly until you feel better. The house is in order, our diet is running smoothly, and Naomi is glowing; things are all around super-de-duper. As the summer comes to an end I realize that the new and improved me wasn't as painful a transition as I thought it would be and life is pretty near close to perfect. Now, if only there was a non-dairy, no soy, no gluten pizza out there that actually tasted good too! Then we’d really be living the life J

Just Mama a Little Bit Longer

2012-08-20T20:52:00.000-07:00

Two months ago I thought this blog was over. When I started writing it I always figured I'd end with my one year anniversary and go back to work part time or start a new blog calling it Just Mama and More. But the More wasn't part of God's plan, at least not for now.

July was a tough month. I had been holding on to my job praying that something might work out in the school district for a part time teaching position. I desperately wanted to job share (work 2 days a week) or teach home bound (students too sick to be in a classroom) like I did when I was still pregnant with Naomi. This would enable me to bring in some income but still skirt the full blown cost of daycare for two. But there were no positions open within the time frame needed and I couldn't leave my very patient principal waiting forever.

As a former colleague of mine put it, "God decided for you..." When my grandma was diagnosed with colon cancer a month ago that made up my mind for me. I submitted my official resignation July 18th, packed up my personal belongings in my classroom, and to my great surprise fell apart on the car ride home. Over seven years I had worked at this place where I smiled, laughed, cried, and most importantly grew as an educator and an individual. Handing over my I.D. badge was so final. A door had closed and it was....frightening. But why?

What was my problem, I wondered over and over. This is like a super awesome opportunity I have, to watch my girls grow up. Why did I feel so heartbroken to leave teaching when just a year ago I was so overjoyed to do it? Like staying home was OK as long as I had a job to go back to in case things didn't work out. I thought about it for a couple hours which became days, and fogged into weeks.

The question was placed on the back burner as life trudged on. The guest bathroom mold funk started to spread, the respiratory problems reappeared, and my credit score continued to sink along with my morale as Evil Mortgage Company needed yet another packet of paperwork to "consider" our Short Sale application. Then we found the perfect 2 bed 2 bath rental, clean, safe, and just the right price-a light through the chaos. But in the end our credit was too shaky and my heart was broken. First Evil Mortgage Company denied us refinancing on our house because we were current on our mortgage and could "easily" make our payments. Then they denied us refinancing because our credit score wasn't good enough. So we can't own a home that is falling apart and we can't rent anything decent either! The whole thing made me furious and sick at the same time!

That's when my parents proposed an interesting solution. Move in with them temporarily. That way we could save money and build up our credit again. Eager to remove the girls from breathing in the mold in our house, we began the painstaking task of going though everything and packing. I felt like I was on autopilot, stopping only to make visits to the hospital to see my grandma and check my emails. But due to the stress of it all the desire to write was gone. I made a few sad attempts here and there but all that I produced was dribble.

Writing had always made me happy. It was my stress relief, something that made people laugh. Like teaching, I felt like I was good at it. Your students made progress, awesome job! Tommy understands the difference between prime and composite numbers for the first time ever, fantastic! His parents can't believe the social growth their child has made under your guidance, you're a Godsend! Your students actually like to learn and are eager to come to school, You're a marvel! When teaching, I felt successful. Changing a diaper and wiping poopy bottoms and runny noses-not so much.

Like today as I didn't feel successful as I watched my tantruming three year old slam her feet against my bedroom door, slowly moving her time out chair across the floor. I didn't feel worthy of praise as I pried out a banana peel wedged between Naomi's teeth and surveyed the toys and mashed fruit sticky on the tile floor I had just vacuumed and steam mopped that morning. I certainly didn't feel appreciated as Jenna screamed "I HATE YOU, MOMMY!!!!" between sobs as I tried to explain to my youngest, "We only eat the inside of the banana, not the peel!" Like a dog defending his bone, Naomi only dug her tiny hands and teeth into the "gift" Jenna had stolen from the fruit bowl because she thought it was funny for Naomi to "eat like a monkey."

Some days, like this one, I feel like I stink at my job as a mom. If there was a hidden camera channeling a live feed of my mom disaster moments to cyber space I just know a former student would be compiling them for a video montage set to go viral next month: Large red letters spelling FAIL across my face. And even when things do go right the mommy profession is very much a thankless job. No one is there to show you charts of how many new words or skills your child has acquired this month compared to other's around the nation, or graphs of new social accomplishments your child has because of all the play dates or story time meetings you've scheduled. The closest thing I've had to a pat-on-the-back is the pediatrician checkups where at least I can hear, "Great job on her skin, mom, what are you using at bath time?" or "Look at that measurement, she is off the chart for brain development-Keep doing what you're doing!"

If life offered award's mommys would be nominated as unsung heroes. There are many successful moments that go unnoticed and unappreciated and I don't think the real impact of what we do on a daily basis really becomes clear until our children are grown. That is a long time to wait....that is why I think it is so important that we give ourselves credit where credit is due. We may not be perfect, but we give our all everyday-even if all we have left is an exhausted version of ourselves with a twitching eye.

Today was the first day of school and I was there not because I was teaching but I was bringing my Jenna to her preschool classroom. I am a stay at home mom. Not the easiest job but most definitely the most important as far as my girls are concerned (even if they don't know it yet ). In the mean time I'm going to move the fruit bowl to the top of the fridge, go a little easier on myself, and try to fit in the things that I enjoy-just for me- just a little bit longer. It's not exactly true to the title but I'm hoping you won't mind if Just Mama is a little bit more than a year.

Thank You

2012-06-12T18:14:00.003-07:00

One year and two days ago I set off on a journey to be a stay at home mom for one year. These last 12 months have been filled with many wonderful moments,sky high ups and grand canyon downs. There were days when I wondered what in heck I was thinking. And other days, where I'd wake up with two tiny people, who somewhat resemble me when I was little, competing to throw their arms around my neck and smother me in mommy/daughter love (though some of that love is always a little more drooly than the other ;).

Before I started our little "experiment" to live on one income for one year, we set aside a financial nest egg and stocked our pantry with toiletries and other supplies. Then I created a list of goals I wanted to accomplish. Our nest egg is now nonexistent, we just unwrapped the last bar of soap today, and as I reexamined my goal list, I was pleasantly surprised to find that I completed most of it. I got to visit my grandma twice a week, and sewed my very first dress for Jenna (Sure the dress had to be cut in half and hemmed into a shirt which Jenna refused to wear, then was downgraded to a dress for Naomi-but I still count it :)) I started this blog and originally set a goal to create 40 posts and even though I didn't always manage to get them out on time (I was shooting for 3 to 4 a month) I passed my goal with this being my 45 post. The front of the refrigerator, hope chest, memory box, and sliding glass door are filled with the 100+ art projects Jenna and I did together, and my recipe box is filled with stared goodies that Jenna and I will bake again in the future.

Looking back on this past year some people might think I was crazy for doing it and I'm not sure they'd consider my story all that successful. But that would depend on their idea of what success is. A lot of my other goals, like the Norman Rockwell Thanksgiving like meals I created or the rare days all the laundry was complete & the house was super clean all at the same time, will probably be forgotten. But so much of this year will stay with me forever. I got to watch my baby, Naomi, take her first steps, say her first words, blow her first kiss. Jenna mastered potty training, learned to count to 20, recites the Lord's Prayer, and, through listening to Mike and my conversations, she even figured out how to spell "park", "ice cream", and "bed."

A year ago I was pulling my hair out trying to manage new found food allergies and sibling jealousy. Now we've got meals down to a science and the girls play together like best buds. So much joy. So much growth. So much change, and so much to look forward to in the future. The first of which is Mike's new job. He is now the Director of a preschool about 5 minutes from our home. Jenna will be in the three year old class there this coming fall. We are all very excited and I'm sure he'll do a great job. We have also had an offer on our house and are praying God blesses that the "As Is" Short Sale goes quickly and smoothly. As for me....let's just say I've got some options I'm working on for next school year and I won't know officially what my job status will be until August. Until then I've got two more months to enjoy being, Just Mama.

You might wonder, if I were to do the past year all over again, would I? Hands down, no hesitations-YES! After all, children are tiny for such a brief moment in the scope of our lives. But more than anything, this year has been a blessing and a privileged. I will treasure my time being home with my little girls for as long as I live. A wise woman once told me that there is no greater gift you can give to your children than yourself. She gave that gift to me and I am so grateful to God that I was able to do the same for my two girls, even for this short time. In my mind, there's no greater success than that.

To my readers, thank you for joining me on this journey :)
God Bless You,
Jamie

Mommy's "Privacy"

2012-05-31T08:28:00.003-07:00

It was shortly after my cup of coffee, and halfway through spreading Sunbutter on Jenna's toast that I found I needed to use the bathroom. I finished making breakfast, set it down on Jenna's little table where she was watching Beethoven, grabbed Naomi from her high chair and bee-lined it for the toilet. Sitting Naomi on the bathroom rug, I laid some toys at her feet just in time to hear Jenna calling from the other room,
"Mommy?" "Where are you?" "I want you to sit with me."
"Mommy's going potty!" I called, which apparently translates to Everyone come to join me while I do my business because not only did Jenna come running but Mindy, our terrier, came trailing in behind her.
"Mommy, whatcha doin'?" Jenna asked staring at me from the doorway as she chewed a large mouthful of her toast.
"Mommy told you, Jenna, I'm going potty." Naomi who was happily bouncing a baby doll up and down stopped and grinned at Jenna as she entered the bathroom.
Jenna then packed two chunks of cantaloupe into her cheeks, "What kind of potty?"
"Number two, now can you please give mommy some privacy?" "Why don't you go finish watching your movie?"
"I don't want to." "I want to stay here with you and No-me (Naomi)."

Then Jenna plopped next to Naomi on the rug. Mindy slunk behind her, stalking Jenna's sunbutter toast with her eyes. Great. I thought to my self, The first time my daughter wants to have anything to do with her little sister it's when we are all crammed into the bathroom. I attempted to focus my attention back on my Mother Earth News magazine article about raised garden beds I had been attempting repeatedly to finish for the past week. Suddenly Naomi burst out crying and I looked up to see that Jenna was now protectively clutching the baby doll Naomi had been playing with the very same doll Jamie hadn't played with in over a year and a half.

"JENNA!" "That was not nice!" I said as Naomi desperately yanked the doll back from Jenna.
"But Mother!" (Jenna's latest term for me when she is pleading her case-a direct result of the American Girl Movie Felicity-who called her mommy, mother.) "Mother! The doll is minnnneeee!" Jenna whined with great emphases as she pulled the doll from Naomi's tiny grasp for the second time.
"Give her that doll back this minute, young lady!"
Jenna scrunched her mouth up at me and glowered at Naomi, tossing the doll back into her sister's lap.
"And tell her your sorry." To this Jenna pushed her chin up in the air defiantly, her arms crossed over her Dora the Explorer nightgown.
"Now! Or when I get off this toilet you're going right into time out."
"sorry." Jenna's apology was barely audible but I wasn't in the mood to push it.
"Thank you, Jenna." "Now why don't you go watch your movie?" I sighed, rereading the same paragraph for the fourth time. Then it was Jenna's turn to cry.

"MOMMMYYYYY! LOooook!" She wailed. There on the floor was Jenna's near-empty plate, Mindy darted from the scene of the crime and hid between my legs and the toilet bowl.
"Mindy!" I said firmly, "That's a NO!" Mindy, suddenly realized I was right above her and darted out of the bathroom, into the bedroom, and judging by the sound of the crate creaking, put herself in the kennel for a timeout.
"Don't worry Jenna, I'll get you another piece of toast when I am finished."
Jenna sniffled pathetically, as I attempted to pick up the pieces of half-eaten Sunbutter toast stuck goop side down in the bathroom rug I had just washed yesterday.

"Can I have cereal, not toast please?" I glanced up and Jenna had the bath towel, which was draped over the towel rack, wrapped around her head like the Virgin Mary and was using it to swing back and forth. I glanced around and realized Naomi was nowhere to be seen. A brief moment of panic hit me. Where could she have gone in the last three seconds? Then I heard happy grunting coming from behind the shower curtain. I pulled it back and there Naomi was happily chewing away at a remnant of Jenna's breakfast bread.

"Naomi!" "Give that to Mama." I said, "That's too big for you." Fearing her prize was going to be taken, Naomi shoved the entire piece into her mouth. "No!" I leaned over, grabbed my one-year-old into my arms and used my pinkie finger to pry the slimy goo from her mouth through her 8 clenched teeth. Naomi cried even louder in protest, and as I lifted her and sat her on my leg, a wad of warm chewed bread dropped into my slipper.

"OK!" "Mommy's DONE!" Exasperated I put Naomi down, quickly finished, flushed, and washed my hands. All the while I noticed Jenna behind me giggling impishly. Curious I had to ask, "OK." "What's so funny Jenna?" Jenna removed her hands covering her mouth, pointed at my bottom and giggled all the more gleefully, "Mommy, I just saw your privacy."
I raise my eyebrow, "You mean you just saw mommy's....." I stopped in mid sentence. "Never mind..."
"Do you want to go finish your movie now?"
"Uh Huh!"
"Great idea, Jenna!" "Let's go finish watching Beethoven," I said forcing an overly enthusiastic smile on my face while simultaneously repressing the urge to point out that I had suggested this THREE TIMES ALREADY! As Jenna ran to the TV, I swept Naomi into my arms and headed out the bedroom door toward the living room. Per our Doctor visit check up discussion earlier in the week, Jenna meant to say, "Mommy, I saw your private." But it's funny she used the word privacy because it reminds me that since I've become a mom, privacy seems to be a thing of the past.

My Little Houdini

2012-05-24T17:57:00.001-07:00

Naomi is on the move...not just toddling but 18+ tiny steps in a row. Just three weeks ago she was my cautious two steps, wait, three steps, wait, one step, forget this, crawling is faster, drop to the ground, kinda girl. Then Jenna got sick, spiked a 104.8 fever, and was out of commission for two solid days. Naomi was in her glory! She canvased the play mat, scoured the bookshelves, and had her way with all the toys (hers as well as her big sister's).

I was shocked when Naomi started speeding across the room in full stride taking 8 and 10 steps at a time. I suppose she felt a lot more secure and confident (with Jenna off the living room floor) and gradually Naomi grew braver and bolder with her uninterrupted practice. There were brief moments she still looked like she'd taken one drink (of milk) too many, but even with occasional balance difficulties she could Speedy Gonzales her way across the room in the blink of an eye, or at least the time it takes to help Jenna put on her socks.

This new found confidence opened a whole world of daring for Naomi. She figured out how to escape her high chair safety straps and has thrice caused me a mini heart attack as she attempted to climb down its side during dinner. Naomi consistently breaks out of her play yard, there one minute, under the bed or behind the couch the next like some magical disappearing act. The other day I got fed up and plunked Naomi in her crib so I could use the bathroom. Jenna skipped happily through the door as I washed my hands, announcing proudly that she had shared some pillows with Naomi. I rushed around the corner to find that Naomi had pushed them to the sides of her crib and was standing on them attempting to climb over the rail and onto Jenna's bed (we are currently brainstorming alternative sleeping arrangements because of this).

Then last week we were at a friend's house and Naomi's car seat carrier was on the floor (she had fallen asleep on the car ride over so we had brought the entire carrier in so we didn't have to wake her). I had placed a ceramic knick-knack that I had confiscated from Naomi on the sill behind the couch. Naomi was overwhelmed with temptation and totally uninterested in the age-appropriate toys all around her. Instead, she pushed her carrier over to the couch, leaned it back, crawled through the seat like an inclined tunnel, pulled herself up on the couch and then stretched on her tippy-toes to try and reclaim the forbidden item. I was sitting right next to her so I was able to grab her and deposit her diapered bottom back on the floor. Her little mountain-like couch climb showed me that I was never to underestimate the gumption of an 11 and 1/2-month-old.

Yes, my youngest is proving to be quite innovative. I suppose it was only a matter of time for all of this to transpire. After all, Naomi will be one on Saturday, no longer a baby but a toddler with "big girl" interests. Gone are the days when she was content to sit and bang a pot with a spoon. Yes, Naomi's first year sure has flown by. But I have no doubt that my energetic Little Houdini will keep me on my toes for years to come.

Dearest Family...

2012-05-17T08:07:00.001-07:00

Dearest Naomi,
The toilet is not a toy. Please don't try to flush it over and over again. I know you like the swooshing sound but it costs Mommy and Daddy money. Not to mention it's irritating-especially when Mommy is still sitting on the potty. Please choose one of the million toys that people have spent thousands of dollars on for your entertainment.
Much Love,
Mommy

Dearest Michael,
I know that Refrigerator Blindness is a male disorder. Perhaps it is a genetic mutation and not your fault that you can't find the kids' organic apple sauce in the second drawer or the jar of SunButter hiding behind the rice milk on the left side of the fridge's top shelf. But if you try moving an item or two around before you ask me to come and find it for you, it will earn big brownie points for you and re-instill hope for husbands in general.
Loving Regards,
Jamie

Dearest Jenna,
It is wonderful to have snuggle time while you are awake but once you fall asleep the arrangement becomes very painful for Mommy. Somehow without lessons, you have mastered the Korean martial art of Tang Soo Do while asleep- I am so proud! But honey, your foot does not belong on my stomach, in my eye, or pressed between my shoulder blades and despite what you think, you can sleep just as good in your own bed as you can in mine.
With Love,
Mommy

Dearest Mindy,
The neighbors can't hear you. They are 40 feet away and you are behind a glass window. Even if your growls were magnified 100x the volume of Mighty Dog people would not be afraid enough to stop their dog from peeing on our mailbox. Do the household a favor, rest your vocal cords a bit, and save your ear piercing barks for when it truly matters-like the next time Jenna tries to paint your hair with sidewalk chalk.
Hang in There,
Mom

Dearest Ducks,
I am the one that fills your duck pond (plastic kiddie pool) and feeds you pellets each morning. I am also the one that built you the Fort Knox of all duck pens out of a dog kennel and fortified chicken wire so you'd be safe from those rotten fowl murdering raccoons. So why do you repay me, Baron, by hissing at me each time I enter the fence and pecking me when I gather the single egg Fluffy lays each morning? You'd better watch it my feathered friend or Duck a l'Orange just may be served at our next holiday meal.:) Fluffy, this of course excludes you. After all you are our only egg layer.
Sincerely,
Farmer Jamie

Dear Frog Outside the Girl's Bedroom Window,

You woke up the children one too many times with your endless nocturnal croaking. I've given the raccoons your location.

Tell God I said hello,

Jamie

Conversations with Jenna: Marriage

2012-05-13T09:17:00.000-07:00

It had been an especially challenging morning. After an hour-long park visit and three large laps around the lake near our house, my efforts to expel the majority of my daughter Jenna's energy had failed. Dress up clothes lay strewn about the living room, Naomi was wearing dog ears and allergen-free shortbread cookie crumbs on her head-the result of Jenna "sharing" her cookie by decorating her sister with "fairy dust" like crumbs while I attempted to fold and put laundry away. "Look, Mommy, No-me (Naomi) is all pretty and sparkly like Tinkerbell!" On the way to Jenna's preschool I cursed the small box of Organic Chocolate Milk that Jenna had found buried in the back of our fridge and made a mental note to seek and destroy (or have my husband Mike consume) all remaining chocolate anything in the house so that this morning would not repeat itself in the future.

As we drove along I noticed Jenna's brow was furrowed as she picked at the bandage on her latest boo-boo.

"Mommy, my finger hurts."

"I know honey, I'm sorry."

"My band-aid is falling off, see!"

"That's because you are playing with it." "If you leave it alone the band-aid will stay and your finger will feel better."

"I don't have a ring on my finger." (Jenna is a great admirer of my wedding ring set)

"Nope."

"Because I put things in my mouth?"

"Yep." (we had had this conversation before.)

"And once I stop I can wear jewelry and rings and crosses?"

"That's right."

"And someday I can wear a ring on my finger like yours and not a band-aid?"

"Yes Sweets, someday you'll get married and you can have a ring-like mommy's too."

"Someday when I get big I'll get married."

"Yep."

"When I'm big and tall and I've got big titties like you?" To this, I coughed on my handful of gluten-free granola.

"Something like that."

"Someday when I'm big like you I'm gonna marry daddy."

"I'm glad you love daddy so much Jenna but daddy is already married."

"You're married to daddy?"

"Yes, Sweets, I am. So you'll have to find someone else to marry when you grow big."

"Who?" "Who am I gonna marry?"

"The person God has picked out for you."

"But who is he?"

"I don't know, but God does and you'll meet him someday when you are big."

"Is it Mr. Bill?" (Mr. Bill is our neighbor who is in his 60's)

"No, honey, Mr. Bill is too old to be your husband. When you get big he will be G G's age. (G.G. is what Jenna calls her Great Grandma) You should marry someone closer to your age."

"Like John Paul?" (a student in her 3-year-old Pre-K class)

"Maybe, we'll just have to wait and see what happens someday." To this Jenna was quiet for the remainder of our drive. I could tell by the way her tiny mouth puckered that she was mulling our conversation over in her head. She didn't speak again until we pulled into the school's parking lot.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, Jenna?"

"Can't I just wait until you're done kissing daddy and then I can marry him?"

To this, I couldn't help but laugh. Can't beat a three-year-old's logic.

How to Make Your House Look Clean in 15 Minutes or Less

2012-04-30T19:21:00.002-07:00

I have a confession to make. On any given day I would rather cook than clean. This is the opposite case for my mother who de-stresses by cleaning bathrooms at all hours of the night. Me-I bake cookies & cupcakes, rice pasta with fresh pesto sauce, soothing homemade soups,... I'm not sure whether it's the mouthwatering aroma, the bliss of eating it all, or the fact that I am hacking a root vegetable into a million pieces with a large sharp knife that makes my worries of the day just melt away into a puff of nothingness. So it is without saying that my mom's and my house cleaning standards (and cooking methods) are slightly different.

With the house on the market I am finding that my usual practice of keeping things clean but lived in won't do if we have any chance of getting a contract. I am finding instead that I must always be ready for a showing at any moment which means I seriously have to up my anti from a weekly vacuuming/steam mopping & biweekly dusting to all of the above every few days.

But the other day I was seriously taken off guard. We hadn't had any showings scheduled for two weeks. The kids were up super late the night before for different reasons (one had a late afternoon nap and the other was breaking in a new tooth). I was exhausted, they were overtired and because of this combo the living room was in absolute shambles. While I prepared breakfast Naomi had happily cleared the bottom two shelves of the bookcase and Jenna was gleefully trying to "swim" through them as she laid on her belly and flailed her arms about, "Look mommy I'm Nim from the movie." I groaned as I placed Jenna's sunflower butter toast on her play table and glared at the TV playing the 36th showing of Nim's Island (her latest DVD favorite).

Just as Naomi attempted to chew the lamp cord for the 10th time in 15 minutes and Jenna was trying to dress our dog Mindy like her baby doll, I grew sick of it all, strapped the kids into the stroller and headed out the door for a belated morning walk. About a half mile from our house my cell phone rang.

"Hey Jamie this is (I Can't Believe Someone Wants to Look at Your House) Real Estate Agent." "I've got a client interested in viewing your house." "Apparently the agent interested in showing it thought your residence was unoccupied and already made the appointment." "Would 10:30 still be alright with you?" At first I was simply elated that someone wanted to see our house. "Sure!" I said enthusiastically.

"Great!" She said, " See you in 30 minutes!" WHAT?!!! I glanced at my phone clock and panicked remembering the toys and books strewn about the house and the piles of dishes in the sink. Tightening my grip on the double stroller I booked it as fast as my two outta shape mama legs could carry me in the direction of our home. "WWWHHHHEEEEE! Faster Mommy, FASTER!!!" Jenna was in her glory!

I tore through the front door, stuck Naomi in her crib and then began to bark orders, tossing toys into their bins in a mad flurry as Naomi wailed from the other room. "Mama! I don't wanna clean I want ice cream!" Jenna protested. If it were possible to shoot fire from your eye sockets this would have definitely been my moment, "Clean up your toys NOWWWW!" I insisted as I dashed to the kitchen and started to load breakfast dishes into the dishwasher only to realize that the dishwasher was clean. Was there time to unload and reload? I glanced at the microwave: 10:20 a.m. NO! I'd have to hide them. But where? Ah Ha! The microwave...It's a counter top version-not included in the house-they won't have to look at it. Where else can I hide stuff?

Before I knew it the dirty dishes were stacked and concealed in the microwave, the bill pile that I was preparing to sort through was whisked from the dining room table and shoved in the top of Jenna's desk. I crammed the rest of the toys into the toy box, and threw the clean clothes I was folding on the couch back into the dryer. Spray, spritz, splash the bathroom mirrors and counters were wiped clean with the hand towel and a new one was replaced. I rolled the top sheets of the beds into a ball, shoved it under the pillows along with the girls pajamas and pulled the comforters over the heap, forming a crease in all the right places. A super speed dust mopping of the house, I threw the mop into the shed, popped the dog into the crate, the kids in their car seats, and pulled out of the driveway just as the real estate agent pulled in. It was close but we made it.

As far as I know things wen't well. Not sooo well that we got an offer on the house but hopefully it sparked their interest. But I've gotta tell you the experience was a little too close for comfort. I'd hate to have a repeat of that day and a last minute scramble to make our home look picture perfect so I've really upped the anti and make sure that the beds and dishes are all ready before we leave the house and that the vacuuming and bathrooms are done the night before. Now Mike is delighted to come home every day with things in absolute perfect shape, floors polished, toys in their just so place. Must say that selling our home has it's benefits. Never has my house looked so clean. Mike is in his glory and my mom is super proud that her prediction that I would "Grow up and keep the house like a pigsty" seems to be fading into the past.

The House Hunt

2012-04-27T07:40:00.002-07:00

First I must say that I am very unhappy with this blogger website. With all the changes going on in my life right now the last thing I wanted was for another "new and improved update" to come along and change my blog settings and format. Now what took me forever to figure out is all messed up again! In the words of my dog Mindy, "Grrr!"

With that said I have decided to focus on some other stuff in my life that is more upbeat and not so dreary as my last entry. Yes we are going to have to move but I'm trying my darnedest to look at the bright side of things and relish in the fact that home repairs will be a thing of the past in the very near future. To aid me in my road to happy thoughts I've been doing extensive internet based research to find our "perfect" someplace. Mike and I ticked off a list of house awesomeness and absolutely not's to narrow down that search.
Here's what we came up with:

House Awesomeness (AKA Would really like to have in our rental)

1) Minimum 2 bedrooms 1 bath * Awesomeness= 3 bedrooms 2 baths
2) At least 1000 square feet (Our current house is 1140 square feet so awesomeness would be 1140+)
3) Allows a dog
4) Carpet limited to bedrooms alone * Awesomeness=No carpet at all (because of for-mentioned dog)
5) Fenced in backyard
6) Close to Mike's work *Awesomeness=close to a park too :)
7) Fits into our price range (Probably the hardest item on the list)

Absolutely Not: Items That Would Prevent us From Renting A House

1) Not on a pond, canal, or other body of water (Alligator-filled Florida Waters and small kids/dog= bad combo!)

2) Not on a super busy street.

3) Neighbors must seem relatively clean in the visible portions of their house and free from violent criminal record.

Personally I feel our list is modest & sensible. This past weekend Mike and I used $32 worth of gas driving all over our town to look at 12 rentals in the area. It was an informative journey. I've discovered that somethings look much better in person than online and others....well...let's just say I'd love to borrow the camera they used because it has the ability to transform the dilapidated and scary into something magical.

Overall Mike and I were quick to rule out houses that fit our Absolutely Not list, like the duplex with a junk car repair shop in the front yard, or the modular home with walls that shook every time the train ran the tracks 10 feet away from the backyard. (*Note to self: Add train tracks within 20 feet of house to list of Absolutely Not)

Apparently I am less discriminating when it comes to house age than Mike is because he was not too impressed with the 1950s cottage that I called a "vintage fixer upper" and he called "run down" and "ancient." I simply pointed out that it was 1/5 of a mile from his work and that it had a fenced in yard. Mike took me in the back, waving at the 4 foot gap and I made the correction: "OK, 3/4 of a fenced in yard." to which Mike responded, "If you want to call the number on the sign, knock you're socks off, but this place isn't fit for the raccoon that probably chewed that hole in the garage roof!"

It's amazing how many people don't return a phone call. The lady who owned "Raccoon house" (as it was later named by Mike) was no exception. I've been carrying my cell phone with me, even in our house, for five days just in case. I think Mike is secretly grateful because neither of us really felt we had found "the one." Still, we've still got time while we wait for our house to sell and I know things will happen when God wills it in his perfect timing. So I'm keeping an open mind, continuing my search, and dreaming of the day we find our perfect somewhere, hopefully completely fenced in and raccoon free.

When God Closes a Door...

2012-04-16T14:40:00.046-07:00

(Disclaimer: Company titles and representative names have been changed in the following story. Any similarities are purely coincidental. )

My family and I have been in mitigation with Evil Mortgage Company since August. I've spent over 20 hours on the phone being transferred to various Evil Mortgage Company representatives, 40+ hours re-configuring our monthly expenses/deficits and typing hardship letters on the computer. Somewhere in the rain forests of Brazil there is a 1/4 acre of trees missing so I could submit 62 pages of refinancing application pages through the mail. In March, after 8 months of work and three trips through the entire process, the work paid off...sort of. We qualified for the Homes Affordable Modification Program but they only took into consideration Mike's gross pay and not his actual take home pay to configure their 31% payment reduction. In Short their offer was only $113 lower than our current payment.

I sought the direction of Maria, our case Representative at Evil Mortgage Company. She noted on our account that the payments were still too high and to my surprise her supervisor, Joyce, called me the next day, "I just wanted to make you are aware that this is the best deal that Evil Mortgage Company has to offer." "There is no chance of a lower payment being offered to you under any program." "If you are unable to meet these new payments then I can only recommend that you and your family apply to short sale your home."

Mike and I sat down and crunched the numbers. $1,750 quote to re-tile the girls' bathroom (which has the same problem our other shower had-tile glued on drywall), $1,800 to repair the ceilings, $10,000 to fix the siding , kitchen cabinets (crumbling), new garage door...and so on and so on. As mentioned in a previous blog entry (http://justmamaforayear.blogspot.com/2011/08/day-wall-fell-in.html) our home is in need of multiple repairs. Our house value is less than half of what we owe on the mortgage and the house still needs $40,000+ of work.

We prayed a whole bunch, sought the advice of my credit counseling agent, a real estate lawyer, a Realtor, a friend in real estate with multiple properties of her own, and our accountant. All said that the only option we had was to sell. It was hard to swallow but it just didn't make sense to stay in our home. If I was to write that I simply nodded my head and said, "OK, God- this is clearly the direction you wish us to go!" It would be a long shot from the truth. In all honesty, I had a whirl wind of emotions.

First I was in disbelief, "This just can't be happening to US!" "There must be something we haven't pursued!"

Then I was a last hope Crusader, "I'll just get a night job at Walmart, try again to published some writing, sell some more of our stuff, and maybe I can tutor at tutor.com again!"

Mike was like, "You mean that website where you were waking up at 4:45 every morning to tutor for an hour for $5." "Did you forget you only made $168 in 5 months?" "Even if you were teaching we couldn't afford the house repairs."

Then I was Xena-The Warrior Princess- furious. "You know these companies are just out to rip off the American public!" "Government bailouts-my flippin' feet!!!" "Help to keep people in their homes-what a joke!" "More like help a bank executive buy an extra jet for his "work" "retreat" to Hawaii with his thong-bikini-packin' secretary." "I'd like to lower their interest rate straight to...." (You get the picture)

The day the Realtor put the for sale sign on our front lawn I felt defeated. I had a difficult time going outside for most of the day. There it was, staring at me, mocking me, not a For Sale sign but a sign of failure.
"All the work we put into this house." "All the shower repairs, new tile, new septic, new AC, new appliances, what was it all for?"

Mike tried to reassure me, "Honey it's not your fault." "You didn't know you paid 3x the price you should for a piece of garbage!" "Besides who knew the economy would tank right after you bought it?"

At this not so helpful comment I loaded the baby into the car seat and called over my shoulder, "I'm going for a drive."

As I drove along the river, Naomi joyfully chewed the hair on Jenna's cloth Tinkerbell doll and I mulled the situation over in my head. "Lots of people are loosing their homes right now." "I'm not judging them for it." "They aren't failures in my mind." "Why am I so disgusted with myself?" Was this the house that I planned to spend the rest of my days in and share cheery Christmas mornings with the Grandchildren playing games in the backyard? No.

But it was the first step in my adult independence. The place my husband and I fell from friendship into love, the first home that both our girls ever knew. Our first place as a family. Then the last most terrifying thought that had been hiding beneath all others I asked out loud, "Are we loosing our house because I stayed home with the kids instead of going back to work?"Like a child falling from a tree, the wind was knocked from my chest, my heart aching. I pulled the car over.

"Were they right, all those that said it couldn't be done?" "That I was crazy for wanting to be home with my girls and actually attempting it?" "That I would fail?" "I guess they're right-This is most definitely a failure!"
And for the first time I allowed myself to cry. Not just one wimpy tear streaming down my cheek but full on shoulder shaking, nose blowing sobs. I'm not sure how long I sat there like this but at least three pairs of joggers were wondering if they should speed dial a mental health facility or run faster.

When I was too exhausted to cry any longer, the fog of self pity began to seep out the car windows and I noticed Naomi's joy filled coos singing out from behind my seat. There she was, laughing adorably, grinning happily as she repeatedly thumped Tinker Bell against the baby view mirror. I opened the car door and smiled at Naomi while her legs did the Happy Happy Joy Joy dance they always do when she sees me. I lifted her into my arms and kissed her soft hair.

Had staying home been worth it if it means we loose the house? Naomi's little hand clasped my shirt collar, "Ma ma ma ma ma," then she flashed me her 8 tooth grin and nuzzled her nose into my chest. Even if I did go back to teaching we still couldn't afford all the repairs. Even if I was teaching, money would still be tight. With daycare and rising gas and food prices, there still wouldn't be any money left over. I thought Mike's words over in my head, "Who knew the economy would tank?" Yeah, and who knew house values would plummet and gas would skyrocket? Who knew my original mortgage company would sell our mortgage and the new payments would be unrealistic! "Who knew you'd have food allergies and that groceries would be so expensive," I said to Naomi as I tickled her belly. If I was teaching we'd still be struggling and we'd still be loosing the house.

On the drive home I freed myself from the guilt that I had been carrying for weeks and resolved to the fact that we would soon be moving. We gave it our best shot but with all things considered I had made the best decision I could when I bought the house 5 years ago. I've learned allot about home ownership, we both have, and we'll be sure that we don't make the same mistakes twice. For now we'll find a place to rent for a while. No matter where my family ends up we'll be home as long as we're together.

"Shooting" Sweet Potatoes

2012-04-10T16:07:00.021-07:00

Looking for a nearly effortless, sustainable, fresh food source? One that takes care of itself and requires the tiniest amount of watering about every 10 days? No matter how black your green thumb may be, you’ll be enjoying a delicious harvest in just four weeks.

Before I became a stay at home mom (for a year) I was a 5th grade teacher who adored science and did multiple experiments with my 10 & 11 year old students. What science fair would be complete without the sprouting sweet potatoes in soil vs. water experiment? It’s easy and aside from watering, requires very little maintenance.

So I did some research and to my surprise I found out that sweet potato greens are actually edible and are a common vegetable in Asian, African and Pacific Island cuisine. The leaves have a spinach like flavor to them and the shoots (harvested red, purple, or light green before they turn dark green & woody) remind me of tender asparagus when sauteed. The bonus? Sweet potato leaves are super healthy for you too & packed full of vitamin A, vitamin K, antioxidants, dietary fiber, essential fatty acids and folic acid (according to the Department of Food and Nutritional Sciences at Tuskegee University, Alabama). They also improve immune function, and help to fight against cancer cell growth & heart disease. Wow! Who knew, right!?

I have always been a fan of the sweet potato tuber in pies, mashed, casseroles-you name it! But since our discovery of the edible greens I have a whole new appreciation for this diverse plant. Mike and I love to make sweet potato greens with a little minced garlic, olive oil, chopped mushrooms and salt and pepper. They are great as a side vegetable the whole family gobbles up and the best part is they grow back in just a couple weeks.

Directions:

1) To grow your own sweet potato greens simply take a sweet potato and jab three toothpicks into the top third of the potato.

2) Place in a mason jar so that the picks are holding the potato off the bottom of the jar.

3) Fill the jar with water until just the bottom third of the potato is under water.

4) Lastly, place in a windowsill and wait.

Four of our Window Garden Sweet Potatoes.
Note : Pretty much any jar will do.
Here I have a mason jar, peanut butter jar and a beer mug.

Various stages of growth.
Three weeks, Two week and One week.

Roots taking over the bottom of the jar!
I like to use clear glass jars because you can see how the roots are progressing,
when it's time to water again, and if the water is getting a little funky and needs replacing.
Trust me...if the water is funky you will smell it before you see it ;O.
Just empty and refill.

New shoots :)

Yummy sweet potato leaves ready for harvest.

Harvested leaves. Because they are grown inside you don't have to wash them!
Another time saver!

Below: Finished product! Enjoy!

I’ve had shoots start to sprout within one week and some that don’t sprout until up to three weeks later. It just seems to depend on the potato. But once it starts sprouting it won’t be long before you find tiny reddish/purple vines shooting all over the place and thin white hair-like roots shooting from the bottom of the potato to soak up the water in the jar.

I’ve got my entire kitchen nook windowsill lined with them. They look beautiful as they grow, with the vines hanging down and, with the right container, look like some high priced Better Homes and Gardens display. My family of four makes a side dish of the greens from 8 sprouting sweet potatoes every few weeks. We buy our sweet potato tubers for $0.79 a pound (http://www.kroegelproduce.us/) so you really can't beat the fresh food investment. The best part is they keep on giving. My three original experiment potatoes have been sending out new vines for the past 6 months. They are now pretty shriveled and pathetic looking but the greens are still coming. Mike jokes that they should be taken out and shot but I have plans to "shoot" them one more time just for the pure food fun of it. So give it a try, you've got nothing to loose. :)

Research Sources:

http://www.stuartxchange.com/Kamote.html

http://www.livestrong.com/article/552502-nutritional-facts-for-sweet-potato-leaves-with-mushrooms/#ixzz1rfI7vdca

Free Harvest

2012-04-05T14:17:00.004-07:00

My dad jokes that I’m a thief. I’m not one... at least not on purpose. There was that one time that our snowbird neighbor was two month’s later than usual returning to her house across the street and I helped myself to the oranges, tangerines, and grapefruit littering the ground. OK! Some from the trees too! But I really don’t consider that true stealing being she wasn’t here to enjoy them herself. Our other neighbor east of us said our citrus owning neighbor was planning to sell the house. I didn’t have her Massachusetts number to call to ask permission and the thought of all that delicious citrus being devoured by squirrels and worms drove me crazy. I just couldn’t see them go to waste! Maybe that makes me a thief but we offered to pay her for the fruit when, to our surprise, she returned at the end of the citrus season. She said not to worry about it. So I don’t plan to fret about it either.

It’s amazing how many people aren’t interested in the fruit and nuts on their property. Because of this Mike and I have several spots in our neighborhood where we harvest the free food from their trees, Yes Dad WITH Permission! About a mile from our home there is a rental house loaded with papaya trees. A husband and a wife two streets over never use their loquats and are quite happy when we take buckets of them away, protecting their driveway from the mess rotting fruit makes. Another neighbor happily lets me do the same with her mulberries.

But empty lots are the best. As a kid I used to harvest and relish the juicy blackberries that grew wild in our neighborhood. The tradition continues now with my own family. This summer I’d like to try my hand at homemade blackberry brandy. By my dad’s shop there are two wild mangos that grow near the railroad tracks (stringy eaten fresh but great in smoothies) and at certain times of the year you can even glean some guava too (though the close resemblance of stinky feet odor isn’t my personal favorite).

I’m always on the look out for free food sources as I travel the neighborhood. Just the other day the girls and I scored an empty lot loaded with lemons. We asked the neighbors next door if they knew who owned the tree so we could ask for permission. He said that he’d lived there 15 years and had no idea. He helped himself but couldn’t reach the lemons at the top and told us we were welcome to them if I wanted. My eyes lit up like a kid finding a box of free candy.

I ran through the wooded lot and tossed the beach blanket I keep in the car over the poison ivy and thorn bushes, trudged through the brush, and had Mike give me a boost on top of some electrical meter box thing. Standing on my tip-toes I hugged a branch till it fell toward the ground and started picking. All the while Jenna and Naomi were in the van strapped in their car seats. Through the open doors Jenna was demanding at louder and louder decimals, “Mama! Just what do you think you are doing?” “Answer me right now!!! One, TWO, THREE!!!!!” Too caught up in my moment of free, free, and more free food bliss to respond to my 3 year old going on thirty, I quickly picked a basket full of lemony goodness. Oh the glories of free findings!!!

When I got home I scoped out my free harvest for the week, 12 lemons, 4 papaya, and a large mixing bowl full of loquats. Food doesn’t get any fresher than this. And what better way to stretch a budget than by not having to spend a penny. Now if only I could find some coconut or date palms without any interested owners! :)

The Block

2012-03-31T19:24:00.026-07:00

I'm not sure what is causing it but I am having the toughest time trying to crank out a blog lately. Each morning I wake up and I'm all pumped to get something written down. But there is pottying and diaper changing, dressing, teeth brushing, breakfast making, breakfast eating, hair styling, breast feeding, and if I'm feeling super productive, add laundry folding and dish washing to a.m. routine. By 7:30 my girls and I head out for our stroller walk. There is fresh air all around, birds singing, Naomi babbling, and the smell of Gain detergent and citrus blossoms drifting on the cool morning breezes. In those rare quiet moments my mind soaks in the much needed oxygen and starts to race. 10,000 blog ideas that popped into my head during the past week play in fast forward super speed to the tune of my 3 year old's rendition of Queens' Somebody to Love.

But the rush of genius never lasts long enough for me to find a computer. By the time I get home and have a moment to myself my ideas have gone poof or the subjects that seemed so kaleidoscopically colorful that morning has faded into something mushy and gray near the far back corner of my mind. The most I've been able to write this past week are three titles and half a paragraph. I was talking to my husband this evening about my lack of inspiration, or perhaps motivation, and I came to the conclusion that the one thing that is different now than when I was writing 4+ entries a month is that Naomi is mobile. In fact if you look back through my blog archive you can almost date the month in which she started crawling and note the steady decline in blog entries leading to her walking.

Now I can hear some of you clicking your tongues at me. What else could I expect when I was insane enough to have two children less than 2 1/2 years apart. If I'm not chasing after the one to keep her from giving the dog a haircut "like the girls do on Parent Trap," I'm rescuing the other from standing up and splitting her head open on the underside of the dinning room table. By the time I get both kids in bed I'm too tired to send an email let alone blog.

The biggest question I get from people who find out I'm a stay at home mom is always, "Don't you get bored?" To this highly amusing statement I respond.... "Never!" There is no time for boredom. Sometimes I wish I had the time to set aside just so I could have the privilege to be bored. After all who could be bored when you were 5 minutes late 10 minutes ago and you're struggling to help your three year old find her missing shoe that you are pretty sure the dog has hidden in revenge for the for-mentioned attempted haircut, only to find that the 10 month old has found it and is using it as a teething ring to break in her newest bottom tooth. Yet something seems strange when you sweep her into your arms and realize she is wet but it doesn't register why until the three year old (rushing to retrieve her shoe from the death grip clasped hands of her screaming sister) slips in the puddle of dog pee (Mindy's real revenge), and thumps her head on the tile with an unnervingly loud thud.

*Sigh*....Such are my days. Filled with chaos and joy, nonstop motion, and very few moments to write. So please bear with me, my dear readers. Jenna starts preschool soon and I'm hoping the three half days a week will afford enough "Me" time that I can get over this writers block.

Advice From My Editor

2012-03-26T18:02:00.001-07:00

Humans. We're imperfect.
For the past couple weeks I have been making mistakes left and right. Messing up my words, confusing my homophones like your and you're, forgetting stuff I paid for at the store only to have to drive back and retrieve it at customer service.

I suppose my last blog entry, Unclaimed Treasures, was no different. Only I didn't realize there was a problem until my dad told me so. You see my father, Curt Oxford, graphic artistic by day (http://www.curtoxford.com/) and weekend song writer by all hours of the night (type Curt Oxford in Youtube), also serves as my editor. He's been rather occupied lately and seeing as I didn't want to wait a whole month to pass before I uploaded a blog post, I published my post in the beginning of March without his critique. March is almost over. He read it today. Apparently there were multiple problems that were brought to my attention.

In light of this new found discovery I would like to appologize to any of you 11 people who happen to follow my blog. My goal had been to try and celebrate our stages in life, especially our last and perhaps most beautiful one. I had wanted to try and encourage people that there are more important things in life than trying to be thin, large breasted and wrinkle free and that it is the legacy that we give to the world that has true value. I hope that although I am in my 30ties this did not offend anyone. I am not trying to say that I know everything or think I have all the answers- I know very well that I don't. So please excuse me if I came off seeming that way.

There are clarifications that need to be made about my grandmother as well. You see my grandma is very special to me. She inspires me in so many ways, especially in the strength she has shown throughout her life. My grandmother's mom was killed in an accident before she entered the 1st grade. Things were already difficult for them financially before that happened. They were so poor they couldn't afford milk so my grandmother was raised on black coffee instead. They had no heat and during winter it was so cold that if you left a glass of water by the bed stand it would be frozen solid by morning. My grandma has seen difficult times and overcame them. So when I said in my last blog that my grandmother "is my encourager through the tight times," I meant that she offers me words of encouragement that although money may be tight now this is only for a time and that a hope for a better life is on the horizon (I in no way meant to insinuate that she gives me cash just in case that is how it sounded)

Anyway the last blog entry was swept up a bit and hopefully is now free from offending.http://justmamaforayear.blogspot.com/2012/03/unclaimed-treasures.html
But in case it is not please feel free to email any complaints to theoxford@bellsouth.net and I'm sure my editor will be happy to relay the information ;)

The Unclaimed Treasures

2012-03-18T19:35:00.070-07:00

I remember watching The Waltons reruns on television as a kid. It always seemed interesting to me that the entire family: husband, wife, 7 kids, and grandma and grandpa all lived in the same house. John and Grandpa ran the saw mill together and with the help of the boys, and the assistance from hard working Grandma and Olivia, they managed to clothe each of the kids and put food on the table. Three generations, equally useful & important, working as one unit to keep the family going. Out of all the characters I loved Grandma and Grandpa Walton the best. They were so full of strength in spirit, advice, insight, spunk, humor, and most especially wisdom. They reminded me of my own grandparents in many ways.

My grandmother turned 80 this month and she is a treasure trove of all sorts of wonderful information from child rearing advice to cooking tips. She is my encourager through the tight times and the tough times, the bridge to my heritage and one of my very best girl friends. I eagerly look forward to my daughters and my biweekly visits at G G's (short for Great Grandma so my grandma isn't confused with my daughter's grandma-my mother).

My grandma works in her yard every day for hours, she reads two and three best selling books a week, experiments with the latest recipes in each magazine, and God help the robber that makes the mistake of trying to steal anything from her house because Grandma is going to TAKE YOU OUT! When I asked my grandma how it feels to have lived 80 years she said, "It feels like another day to eat cake!" I had to laugh out loud-Jenna loves cake too, just like her GG.

In September I had a little life milestone of my own when I turned 30. Like my grandmother's 80th birthday, my thirtieth felt like just another day. I didn't really think twice about it until my father in law showed me a pretty picture of my brother in law's 20 year old girlfriend and said, "Remember when you were young and beautiful?"  I nearly fell off my chair and spilled my cup of tea. What the heck is that supposed to mean? Remember when I was young in beautiful, as in I'm NOT anymore? From his tone it appeared my value had decreased in his eyes because my age had increased. This incident left me feeling just a touch indignant.

As I paged through magazines in the waiting room at my daughter's doctor check up a couple weeks later, I became increasingly aware of the multiple adds featuring anti-aging creams, plastic surgery, and other ways to "turn back the clock." I thought of people I know, so desperate to look younger that they photo shop themselves to the point that they almost look younger than their children in family photos. Others who don't want to be called Grandma and Grandpa because it sounds "too old". I had to wonder why our society is so focused on staying young anyway?

Our culture has a warped value system based on youth and beauty. It has done a great disservice in stereotyping old people as chronically ill, unable to work, behind the times, slow-thinking, useless financial burdens on society. But the truth is that Americans over the age of fifty own 75 percent of all American assets and spend half the money. A full 70 percent of these people own their own homes. (Yes I researched this-I may be a nerd but I'm an informed one!) They vote and are active in the community to a greater extent than young people. You can find them out there doing sports and outdoor activities, or working out at the gym. In reality a lot of how we live the later part of our lives depends on our attitude and lifestyle. People who think that aging brings infirmity and illness may unconsciously let that happen where others with positive views of aging may take better care of themselves thus remaining active, vital, and healthy members of society .

In stead of trying to look young our society should be focusing on keeping healthy in both mind and body. We must never cease in improving what we know, learning new skills, eating right, exercising, and continuing to explore the world around us. We are never too old to learn something new and experience the joys life has to offer.  Each stage and each age of our life is beautiful in it's own way and has it's own purpose: a stage of discovery and growing, a time for bearing and raising children, and perhaps the most important is our last season for teaching what we have learned along the way. Our elderly are the unclaimed treasures of this world. We NEED the wisdom of older people and our aging population needs to realize that they have that wisdom to share.

I came across a story by Dr. Annemarie Colbin on a website http://www.foodandhealing.com/articles/article-whatswrongaging.htm that really helped to sum things up for me. (This is my paraphrased version )

One day a woman was walking through the woods and came across an old gnarled tree. It's branches were wide with plenty of room for birds to play and build their nests. It gave shade to cool weary travelers from the summer heat, protection from the wind, and provided life-giving oxygen to the air. The tree was useful but old. It's branches were twisted, its bark full of nicks and wrinkles. Then the woman noticed some young and beautiful trees growing nearby. Their bark was smooth and pretty but they weren't good for much right now...not enough room yet in their branches for the birds, and they barely made any shade. It was then that the woman realized what truly counts is what you are doing for others not what you look like.

This is so true. I've got some smile lines developing around my eyes and a small patch of gray hairs peaking out of my bangs but as far as I'm concerned these are just signs that I've been growing some life experience. In no way do I wish to be 20 again. It took many plateaus and an even larger number of valleys to make me the person I am today. Even still I have so much more to learn. I certainly have a lot of life to live and knowledge to give before I've fulfilled my purpose on this Earth. I look forward to that enthusiastically. After-all the alternative to getting old is an early death. I think I'll take growing old and growing useful instead.

http://www.littleheartsbooks.com/2012/02/18/beautiful-old-souls-2/

http://anangelinthegarden.blogspot.com/2011/04/open-hands.html

Grandma & Grandpa Walton

89 Year old Yoga Teacher Gladys Morris

http://worldmostamazingrecords.org/world%E2%80%99s-oldest-yoga-teacher-world-record-set-by-gladys-morris/

Old women by Brooks Reynolds

Some of the most beautiful women I've ever seen were 70s+ years old, silver haired, wrinkles and all. Their eyes still shone like those of a 20 year old and behind them were the memories of a lifetime and the wealth of wisdom that only life's experiences can bring.

http://kellersc23.com/blog/

85 Year old Catches 700 pound marlin

http://www.fieldandstream.com/blogs/field-notes/2011/11/eighty-five-year-old-catches-700lb-marlin-queensland-coast

Vietnamese woman by Dan Heller

95 Year old Woman Sets Running Record

http://abcnews.go.com/Health/95-year-woman-sets-running-record/story?id=12960251#.T2aaihFSTXQ

Very Old Womenin Kalash

Wisdom and Beauty

by Lochaven

Four Generations: Me, Jenna as a baby, My Grandma, My mother.

Breaking Free from the Funk

2012-02-29T19:14:00.001-08:00

I’d like to say that every day as a stay at home mom is filled with wonder and joy. From the outside it may look that way sometimes. A friend told me today that I’ve got it all figured out but the truth is on most days I feel like my britches are tied to a hot air balloon as I try to run a marathon on the ground. That image of the 1960s housewife adorning a cocktail dress, heels, and a smile as she serves her admiring family a flawless feast in their spotless dinning room is unrealistic most days if not flat out impossible. I’ve accomplished this utopian state of stay-at-home-ness only a handful of times in the past 8 months, usually without the admiration of my three year old (she’s mad at me at least four times a day) and never in heels.

Before the new year we sold our second car to make ends meet and lower our insurance payments. Mike works only 8 minutes from home so dropping him off and picking him up wasn’t a problem and on other days he simply road his bike (which was great for the environment, our pocketbook, and his waistline all in one). Living with one car wasn’t really a problem until conferences came. Because Mike works as a teacher for a division of the Economic Opportunities Council he has to do all 18 conferences at the students’ homes spread all over the county.

For two weeks I was stranded without a vehicle. I hated being trapped in our house, not able to visit family, take the girls to the library, our usual park, or run errands. But at least I had the blessing of the computer to keep me connected to the outside world, friends, and current events. That is until it crashed in the same week. No Facebook, no email, no ABC mouse, no PBS kids, and no stress relieving blog. With each passing day Jenna and I both became stir crazy, my nerves quickly became raw, and gradually I felt my spirit sinking.

I kept reminding myself that I was blessed to have the privilege to be at home. After all wasn’t this what I had longed for? I should be overwhelmed with ecstatic joy to be with my kids 24 hours a day, to minister to my family, and make our home a well run place of comfort. But as Jenna stood there chucking mega blocks at my head (because I wouldn’t let her cut her hair with her new safety scissors) I found myself questioning my decision to leave work. Was I making that much of a difference being home? I drug my protesting three year old to the time out chair and surveyed the toys scattered on the floor, the dirty dishes in the sink, the piles of clean laundry in mountains on the couch waiting yet another day to be folded and put away.

For a while I assured myself it was the missing computer and car that had resulted in my down slide. But even after conferences were over and the computer was repaired I found that my depression lingered. I felt overwhelming shame and guilt because of it. Every part of my day took such extreme amounts of effort, each task consuming me until I felt like I was gasping for breath. When I showered Jenna was there running in and out of the bathroom. When I ate, someone always wanted a bite or a sip. I wasn’t sleeping at night because Naomi was teething and waking up every couple hours and every time I tried to write someone woke up early from their nap or fell down or wanted a drink or a snack or was lonely or needed my attention or their butt wiped. I couldn’t even get a break in the bathroom because I always ended up with an audience.

By staying home I had lost adult conversation with friends at work, time to myself (even if it was just the moments during my classroom planning period) and self identity beyond mother and wife. My days were so filled with meeting the needs of everyone around me that I was forgetting to take care of myself. Michael grew more and more concerned about me and by the fourth week of living in my funk of self pity I realized that if I didn’t do something to help myself I was going to have a serious problem on my hands. It took every ounce of my being to force myself to remember anything, no matter how tiny, that used to make me happy.

The first was basic. I went to the store and splurged on two containers of So Delicious Coconut Milk Ice Cream and spent a couple minutes each day hiding behind a cabinet in the kitchen until I had finished both containers all by myself. Then I explained to Mike that unless he wanted to see his wife committed I was going to need some time by myself. I stayed home from church and took a nap with Naomi; I visited my mom for an hour after the kids were asleep. I started reading and was surprised at how much I missed it. I finished the last installment of the Hunger Games and The Help in two weeks.

I did some research and found that exercise, sunshine, and fresh air help to fight the blues so each morning I strapped the kids in the double stroller and set out for a tour of the neighborhood or for a trip to the local park. We got in the habit of walking about a mile a day and I started to appreciate a morning filled with sounds of birds chirping and happy baby/ little girl chatter. When my energy returned I stopped putting off Jenna’s play date with her friend and found myself happily talking away with another mom enjoying my first lengthy non family adult conversation in months. Another mom who I could share my confessions of frustration, laugh with, and explore topics beyond Sesame Street and Strawberry Shortcake. It was wonderful. I found myself looking forward to our weekly play dates just as much as (if not more than) Jenna.

Finally Mike and I discovered something magical. Because Jenna was fighting me on naps each day I decided to keep her up and do a serious stretch of playtime at the park instead. We did early dinner and baths and put the kids in their car seats in their pajamas. Then we drove along the river. Our kids were both restrained and safe from danger or injury (especially from each other). In 5 minutes time both kids were sound asleep and Mike and I were free to reconnect 100% interruption free.

Like a fog gradually dissipates with the rising of the sun, my depression slowly subsided. The beat in my step returned until I felt like the well oiled machine I was months ago. I can’t say that every day is all rays of sunshine and rainbows. There are still moments when I feel like pulling my hair out but in the end I am happier that I am home with my girls than not. When I had first contemplated the decision to take this year off of work a wise women told me that the very best gift I could give to my children was myself. I just have to make sure that the self I give them is well cared for too.

Cash Cows and Toileting Triumphs

2012-02-17T12:14:00.001-08:00

When Jenna negotiated with the mall Santa Clause for not one but 5 candy canes so she would smile for the camera I knew my child was…ambitious. Behind those bouncy blond pigtails and that sweet toothy grin lies the heart of a shrewd businesswoman.

When Naomi was born and potty training progress took a major nose dive, I decided to take a friends advice and lay off for a while. As mentioned in a previous blog (Potty Wars) nothing was working and I thought the only thing Jenna needed was more adjustment time. We put away the potty charts and stopped the 30 minute reminders to try and go pee pee. When Jenna’s third birthday approached at the end of January, I forced myself not to feel guilty that she would be attending her park party in pull ups and not big girl panties like all of her friends.

Even though I wasn’t pushing the potty thing I still tried planting little seeds of interest here and there. When Jenna would point to a school yard full of children playing and ask if she could go to school too, I’d respond, “Oh, honey I wish you could, but only children that go pee pee and poopy on the potty get to go to school.” “If you use the potty like a big girl you can go to school someday too.” Jenna would just shrug and casually say, “Well I just won’t go to school then.”

Or when Jenna would bring up going to the playground with one of her friends I would toss in, “That would be fun.” “Maybe we can call and make a play date with Taylor.” “Did you know that Taylor wears big girl panties?” I could tell Jenna was not impressed with my information. She’d simply frown at me and then immediately request that especially annoying Wiggles song that I hate.

When Jenna turned three I was down to my last pack of size 2T pull-ups. (For the last two months Jenna had refused to keep her cloth diapers on, which were growing too small, and I refused to invest in the next size up). I had originally vowed to be patient but come on, how much money can a person stand to throw away-LITERALLY? So I stuck Jenna in panties during the day to try and stretch the pull up diapers as long as possible. We have tile throughout the house, so what harm could it do?

Four days later I had made little progress. I did my best to encourage big girl behavior, pointing out that Naomi was a baby and too small to help me bake, set the table, and water the garden like Jenna could. Jenna was thrilled at the constant special privileges and reminders that she could do a lot of things that Naomi wasn’t allowed to yet. Then one night I asked Jenna to help me harvest some mushrooms from our growing kit for dinner. I used the knife to cut bunches of brown oyster mushrooms free and then Jenna placed them into the bowl. Jenna had wanted to use the knife to cut the mushrooms herself but I had explained that it was too dangerous and that she could use a knife when she was older.

Jenna grumbled something about a “very bad mama” placed the bowl on the floor and then trudged into the living room. Two seconds later she happily announced, “Mommy, come look!” Her voice sounded abnormally cheery so I darted around the corner expecting trouble. There she stood in a puddle, right beside her potty chair, a huge grin on her tiny face, “I pee peed on the floor like a dog.” And then she added gleefully, “Are you mad?”

What the heck? She had woken up dry from her nap & peed on the potty all day. In an instant my mind bounced back over Jenna’s so called “accidents” the last couple days: Right after she got into trouble for trying to ride Naomi like a horse and after I told her that Ice cream wasn’t a breakfast food and that she had to wait until after lunch to have some…. It hit me like a train. Aside from poopy (Which she had a genuine fear of) and naps/nighttime, the little stinker was peeing in her pants on purpose to get back at me!!!!ARGGGGHHHHH!!! Instead of morphing into an Incredible Hulk like creature I decided to remain calm, grabbed a roll of paper towels, and much to Jenna’s surprise she got to clean up her own mess.

For a whole week it was a battle of wills. After a while Jenna grew tired of cleaning up her own pee, the constant changing of clothes, and the waste down spray downs in the tub. Exasperated, I talked it over with Mike one night, “I just can’t believe how strong willed that child is!”

“If I were you I’d just buy another pack of diapers.” He told me.

“Over my dead body!” I said, “I don’t care if I have to do five loads of laundry a day!”

“You will care when our electric bill goes up.” Mike sighed.

The electric bill went up nearly 20 dollars that billing period but eventually I got smart about it. I started putting Jenna in a dress every day and gave up changing sheets, letting her sleep on a plastic mattress cover instead that I would wipe down in the event of an accident.

Two weeks into my no diaper vow I knew I needed to find something, ANYTHING that Jenna truly wanted that I could use as motivation to seal the panty deal. For weeks the diaper solution was staring me in face as I vacuumed out couch cushions and emptied out jean pockets. But I don’t think the true power of what I was holding occurred to me until Jenna found a quarter on the ground at Publix one day.

“Mommy, look, I found a circle.” She had proudly showed me.

“Oh!” “Good Job Jenna!” I said as I swiped my debit card and smiled at her, “You’re right it is a circle.” “That is a special circle called a quarter.”

“What’s a quarter?” Jenna asked wrinkling her nose and forehead.

“It’s a piece of money worth 25 cents.” I told her.

Jenna’s eyes lit up and she quickly followed with, “To buy things at the store?”

“Yep that’s right.” I thanked the cashier for my receipt, returned Naomi’s gummy grin with a smile of my own and then turned to push my grocery filled cart toward the exit.

“Come on Jenna, we’ve gotta go now.” But there Jenna stood, the quarter pressed in the palm of her tiny left hand while her right forefinger traced its outline. Suddenly images of Gollum shot into my mind and I swear I heard the words “my precious” whispered in a high pitched three year old voice. Jenna clamped her hand around the coin, shot me a wide eyed grin, and skipped happily to my side.

This was it! This was her motivation! We raced home and I quickly emptied my change drawer into a little Tupperware container and opened Jenna’s new cow bank she got for her birthday. “Jenna, come look at what Mommy has for you!” Jenna raced into the bathroom and excitedly eyed the plastic bovine on the counter. “See this cow, Jenna?” “He is very special for big girls.” I pressed the on button.

“MMMMOOOOOO!” “Hi There!” I’m the cash cow!” “I’m hungry for some money!” The recorded voice rang out. Jenna was entranced.

“Do you see this container of money, Jenna?” “Each time you go pee or poop on the potty we can feed your cow a coin.” Jenna tried to take a coin from the box but I pulled it back. “You can have a coin and feed the cow after you go on the potty.”

Jenna smiled, “Can I go pee pee right now?”

“Sure you can, go ahead!” I was so excited I nearly floated into the air with happy thoughts of Tinkerbell panties in Jenna’s future. Just like that Jenna hopped onto her potty, went, wiped, washed, and then darted to the bank.

“MMMMMMM!” “That’s a penny.” “A penny is worth one cent.” The cow announced. Jenna squealed with delight and then the cow, she, and I did a joy filled jig around the bathroom.

We had three instant dry days after that. But the biggest victory came when Jenna finally went #2 with the bargain price promise of 5 coins. Once she realized there was nothing scary about pooping on the potty she did it all the time. It’s been three weeks since then and we have had only two accidents. She even stays dry throughout naps and nighttime and has earned herself $9.88. Sure she’s been requesting a lot more juice and water than usual, but for every penny we feed Jenna’s cow bank I save approximately 29 cents a diaper. Some may say that money is the root of all evil but if it means one less poopy diaper to change then I say it’s worth every cent. So bring it on cash cow-you’ve saved my wallet (and my sanity) more than you could ever know!!!

A Friend for Mindy

2012-01-23T20:32:00.000-08:00

Mike and I never intended to create a “middle child” when Naomi was born. Although I had read every book I could find on sibling rivalry to prepare Jenna, our firstborn, for the arrival of her baby sister, I didn’t put much thought into preparing our dog. Sure I sent Mike home with a baby hat from the hospital with Naomi’s scent and I allowed Mindy to sniff Naomi in my arms and lay her head on her blanket to encourage their bond. But soon after I was thrown into survival mode with crying infant and tantruming two year old battles.

I remember days not long ago when I’d have a screaming Naomi in my right arm, a hysterical Jenna on my left hip and Mindy using the couch as a spring board to repeatedly make eye contact with me as I did endless laps around the living room. If I tried to nurse Naomi, Mindy would burrow onto my lap, flip her belly up and enthusiastically thump me with her tail while Naomi was shot in the eye with a stream of milk. Most days I was too tired to do more than move Mindy to the side and pet her head a couple times.

My mom had a Chihuahua named Holly who made war with the carpet under my brother’s crib when he was born, so it is a credit to our terrier/Italian greyhound mix that she handled the transition as well as she did. Mindy got depressed for a while and a touch rebellious. She’d steal Jenna’s food whenever she got the chance, pull out and shred the garbage bag from our flip top pail and “kill” diapers so the “remains” covered three rooms. As things grew more and more chaotic, Mike and I decided that Mindy was feeling neglected and that we had to take action to help her feel less forgotten.

Mike and Jenna started taking Mindy on long walks in our neighborhood twice a day. We bought some special dog treats, bones, and toys just for her-most of which she just sniffed at and then ignored. We placed special soft blankies in her crate and went out of our way to snuggle under the covers each night during family movie time. It was crowded to be sure, but gradually Mindy’s spirits lifted a bit. But the bounce in her paws didn’t completely return until Christmas.

My family packed up Christmas night and drove to my Aunts’ house in North Georgia for a week long cost effective vacation. My Aunts have dogs so it was wonderful to be able to take Mindy along. She enjoyed tasting the dog scented toys and bones and for the first time was able to experience the freedom of a fenced in yard. Because of Rudolph and Frosty Jenna was dying to see snow and amazingly her wish came true on our second night there. Jenna and Mindy were in their glory! Mindy darted around like she was experiencing life for the first time. Leaping and jumping like a kangaroo on a diet of Mountain Dew, she bounded to and fro after tiny snow balls Jenna tossed through the air. Their joy was contagious and Mike, the whole family, and I came back with a full battery charge.

Something must have triggered new life in Mindy because after that trip she developed a taste for toys. Of course it wasn’t the doggy ones we bought her. No, it was one toy in particular that Mindy set her mind to. Mindy fell in love with Naomi’s pink Pillow Pet. At first we fought it. Naomi and Mindy would be sitting on the foam mats on the floor, each with their face burrowed into the fluffy piggy body. Naomi would squeal with delight as Mindy would take the pig by the neck and pull it toward herself a little at a time. I’d take it from Mindy, tell her no, give Mindy her chew bone and the pig back to Naomi. I’m sure Mindy was confused by the mixed messages because Naomi would slap the pillow happily and grunt at Mindy to encourage her to play some more.

A few days later I noticed the pig was being relocated to odd places: behind the lace curtains in the window, under our bed or Naomi's crib, stuffed between the blankets in Mindy’s crate. At first I suspected Jenna was the culprit and was hiding the toy to get back at Naomi for sliming her new tea set. But one day I caught Mindy red handed while I pretended to be folding laundry. Mindy slowly crept up to Naomi, and grabbed the pig pillow by the scruff of the neck like a mother dog carries her puppy. I waited a moment, followed her to the bedroom, and then peaked around the corner.

There Mindy was in our bed burrowed beneath our pillows, her paws wrapped protectively around the pig pillow’s neck. Just as I was about to scold her I stopped when I realized that Mindy was carefully grooming the stuffed toy. She gave it a few flea bites, bathed it and nuzzled it, and turned it over each way to make sure it was thoroughly clean just as a good mommy would do. Then she pressed her forehead into the neck of the pig and fell asleep. It melted my heart. I decided to give up the three week long fight and relinquish the pig pillow for Mindy to love.

Now Mindy-dog carries that piggy everywhere. She drags it from room to room and lays on it at my feet. Mindy pushes it into the living room windowsill and with one paw draped over its back she barks at neighbors walking by. If by chance the stuffed pig starts to fall off the couch, Mindy will grab it by the neck with her mouth, growl softly, drag it back, give it a few soft tongue licks, and then go back to barking out the window. I’ve never seen a dog so in love or one so happy to have found new purpose in life. I guess in the end Mindy was just looking for a baby of her own to love.

The Art of Falling Asleep

2012-01-11T19:30:00.000-08:00

I’m not quite sure why it takes my eldest daughter, Jenna, a million years to go to sleep each evening. Right now it’s 8:34 p.m. and she is still tossing and turning in her room since her 7:30 p.m. bed time. If our nightly trend continues it will be nearly 9:30 before the sounds of thumb sucking finally echoes over the baby monitor. I’ve tried just about everything I can think of to help her out. Late afternoon runs at the park, Chamomile Sleepy Time Tea, back rubs, warm baths with lavender bubbles, soft music, and missed afternoon naps (this just creates an extra horrid mutated version of the child lying awake in the next room).

We established a nighttime wind down routine for Jenna to help her “prepare” her mind and body for sleep. We read two books in bed, say our prayers, then it’s snuggle time and lights out. Still it doesn’t work. Mike suggested that we try children’s Benadryl. Drugging my kid with cough medicine seemed wrong somehow. But the other night I got desperate and I researched it anyway. Apparently it has the adverse affect on most children and is not recommended by pediatricians-DARN!

Naomi on the other hand, she has been gifted with the Sand Man’s magic dust. Most times I don’t even have to check the clock because about five minutes before or after each of her scheduled nap times/bedtimes she starts to rub her eyes and want to nurse. Then before I can say, “Jenna would you please hand me that burp cloth,” Naomi is sound asleep and sweetly snoring away in her crib.

She must have inherited that talent from her daddy. Mike and I can be in full nighttime conversation. He’ll ask me a question, and before I can answer his nose and throat are imitating the creaking of a boat moored too tightly to the dock during rough waters. It’s a horrid sound but apparently I’m not alone. (54% of married couples say their partner snores)

Must be wonderful to have that ability to fall instantly asleep when you are tired! I on the other hand have always had a difficult time falling asleep. My brain has a tendency to keep going on and on trying to solve the problems of my day and configure plans for the morning. Sleep aids have never worked for me ever. In fact I don’t think traditional sleep medication of any kind ever has. Even when I had to have my tonsils taken out the general anesthesia gas didn’t take effect right away.

I was 8 years old and I was super excited about my first surgery and the interesting gas mask they had just placed over my nose and mouth. “Ok, Jamie,” the doctor had said as he held it over my face, “Now close your eyes and count out loud backwards from 100.” I had seen this scene like 20 times on TV so I closed my eyes and started counting. By 78 I was board so I stopped counting and instead listened to the conversations around me. “Can we get more gauze over here, just in case this one is a bleeder?” Then over the hiss of gas I heard my doctor say, “Alright she’s out now, let’s begin.” To this I popped open my eyes and yelled, “SURPRISE!” “I’m still awake!” I thought it was hilarious, but by the looks on everyone’s face in the room they were far from amused. The last thing I remember is counting to 9.

If only I had the ability to quiet my mind and allow myself to truly rest. Think of the money a person could make if they’d invent a sleep mode button implant so we could instantly shut down as easily as a computer can. Most times when I’m lucky enough to fall asleep before 11 p.m. the sounds of Jenna’s talking in her sleep, or Naomi’s quiet dream whimpers, or Mike’s Jet engine snores wake me up at 3:00 a.m. and then I wide awake again for another hour or so. Couple that with Jenna’s biweekly 4:45 a.m. protests that she is no longer tired and playing in the dark is “good for her” and I’m turning into one frumpy Zombie Mama.

My brother, Jesse, and his friend came over the other afternoon to help move some furniture and it was only then that I realized I was still wearing my pajama top over my blue jeans and I hadn’t bothered to style my hair. I glanced in the mirror in between directing twin bed traffic, threw a head band on, and shrugged at the bouffant teen wolf like hairdo I was sporting. (A combination of the pictures below)

Hair Example A

Hair Example B

Jesse saw me come out of the bathroom, glanced at my head, and then made a face half amusement half pity. I whispered, “I didn't sleep again last night…don’t judge me!” and then proceeded to clean out the garage and rearrange the girls’ room on autopilot.

It’s now 9:25 p.m. and Jenna is finally asleep (nearly two hours late). I can’t be irritated about it I suppose. I figure I’m the guilty one for her inherited insomnia. But there must be something out there that can help? Anything? Suggestions, PLEASE!!! Feel free to email or comment anytime. Most likely I’ll still be awake to catch it ;0

"Organic" on a Budget

2012-01-09T19:15:00.000-08:00

Have ever watched the documentary, Food Inc? If you haven’t, I definitely recommend it. (http://www.foodincmovie.com/) It’s a mind-broadening experience. Because of Food Inc, and other documentaries like it (The Future of Food, Food Matters, Ingredients, Home Grown Revolution) I began to think about food in a whole new light.

Mike and I went on a fast food boycott, near-vegetarian, and all organic everything else-mission. We became flexitarians, eating an exclusive home diet (what we ate in our household) of fruits and vegetables, bread, nuts, fish, eggs, and occasional organic chicken or beef. But when I left work to be a stay at home mom, the reality of our budget (and the limited items that I could eat on my youngest daughter Naomi’s allergen diet) made us reconfigure things a bit. I knew it was important to eat as organic as possible (check out this website for details: http://www.organicfoodinfo.net/) but I couldn’t afford the high prices of a lot of organic foods.

So, like I do for just about everything in my life, I decided to research more on the topic. I found out that the Environmental Working Group has a frequently updated fruit and vegetable list with information on the items that have the most chemicals. The fruits and vegetables on “The Dirty Dozen” list tested positive for at least 47 different chemicals, with some testing positive for as many as 67. For the 12 fruits and vegetables on the list, you should definitely go organic. “The Dirty Dozen” list (http://ewg.org/foodnews/) includes:

· celery

· peaches

· strawberries

· apples

· domestic blueberries

· nectarines

· sweet bell peppers

· spinach, kale, and collard greens

· cherries

· potatoes

· imported grapes

· lettuce

Apparently, the USDA has three different types of labeling for organic products:
100% Organic: Made with 100% organic ingredients
Organic: Made with at least 95% organic ingredients
Made With Organic Ingredients: Made with a minimum of 70% organic ingredients with strict restrictions on the remaining 30% including no GMOs (genetically modified organisms).
Products with less than 70% organic ingredients may list organically produced ingredients on the side panel of the package, but may not make any organic claims on the front of the package. http://ofrf.org/resources/organicfaqs.html

Conventional farmers	Organic farmers
Apply chemical fertilizers to promote plant growth.	Apply natural fertilizers, such as manure or compost, to feed soil and plants.
Spray insecticides to reduce pests and disease.	Use beneficial insects and birds, mating disruption or traps to reduce pests and disease.
Use chemical herbicides to manage weeds.	Rotate crops, till, hand weed or mulch to manage weeds.
Give animals antibiotics, growth hormones and medications to prevent disease and spur growth.	Give animals organic feed and allow them access to the outdoors. Use preventive measures — such as rotational grazing, a balanced diet, and clean housing — to help minimize disease.

Skimming the surface research I figured my conclusion would be simple: Organic=Good J, Conventional Farming= BAD L. In my mind the idea of organic always created this image of a little blond girl in braids and a sundress skipping through pristine fields of blueberries and clover in a happy Swiss Alps valley. But as my research continued I discovered organic doesn’t exactly mean organic like I thought. That little prairie girl in my mind got bombed with clouds of Rotenone and knocked face down in the contaminated mud when I read one article claiming there are over 20 chemicals commonly used in the growing and processing of organic crops that are approved by the US Organic Standards. (Some are listed here: http://organic.lovetoknow.com/Permitted_Chemicals_List_for_Organic_Farming)

I researched some more and found out that Organic farmers are actually allowed to use pesticides derived from natural sources and processed lightly, if at all, before use. This is different than the current pesticides used by conventional agriculture, which are generally synthetic. But both natural and synthetic chemicals can be detrimental to human health. As I stared at my computer screen I felt like a little kid who just discovered that his favorite superhero was a Pyromaniac who burned down the apartment building he just saved 6 people from. Great! Now, what am I supposed to do with that?

I did some soul searching and came to the conclusion that large scale production of organic products is more than likely one step less evil than conventional farming. They still ship all over the world producing a high carbon footprint and when production gets large- quality and company integrity often take a hit. So in place of looking for only “organic”, I configured a list of what was important to my family in our food choices, a target for what we were looking for at the grocery store or produce stand:

1. Nutrient dense

2. No persistent harmful pesticides or synthetic fertilizers.

3. No synthetic growth or breeding hormones.

4. No antibiotics.

5. Animal Quality of Life & Humane Treatment. (I’d love to say that I’m totally vegetarian but I gotta be honest-I love me a burger or juicy steak every now and then :)

My husband and I started looking closer at labels to see where our food comes from. Local is great, organic and local even better, organic and local and on clearance-OH HAPPY DAY!!! J But for days when the sales are in hiding I found out that the Environmental Working Group also has “The Clean 15” list of produce with little to no traces of pesticides, and is safe to consume in non-organic form. This list includes:

· onions

· avocados

· sweet corn

· pineapples

· mango

· sweet peas

· asparagus

· kiwi fruit

· cabbage

· eggplant

· cantaloupe

· watermelon

· grapefruit

· sweet potatoes

· sweet onions

(You can check out this website for both the Dirty Dozen and Clean 15 lists: http://www.pbs.org/wnet/need-to-know/health/the-dirty-dozen-and-clean-15-of-produce/616/http://ewg.org/foodnews/)

A lot of the veggies we buy at Kroegel Homestead Produce stand (http://kroegelproduce.us/) are locally grown. Local foods are packed full of nutrients and as far as nonorganic goes they are probably your safest bet if you can’t afford the organic prices. Kroegel’s sells a lot of local hydroponic lettuce and fruit surplus from people’s gardens so they are consistently less contaminated than conventionally grown produce.

Still, the biggest challenge for my family was to find alternative proteins. When you take into consideration that 80% of the antibiotics sold in the U.S. are used in animal agriculture for non-therapeutic purposes (such as promoting growth and compensating for the effects of unsanitary and overcrowded conditions) it really makes you look for sales on organic meat and other animal products. If you can’t afford to eat everything organic all of the time there are some things that people really shouldn’t skimp on like eggs and milk, and anything made with milk like cheeses and butter.

Milk and milk-based products weren’t issues for us (because of Naomi’s milk protein intolerance we were already excluding them). In place of milk, we opted for Organic Rice Milk fortified with calcium and other necessary vitamins. However, when it comes to eggs I am fiercely stubborn with my organic purchases. Many people think brown eggs equals organic, but egg color is based on the breed of chicken! Either our ducks Fluffy and Baron give us our eggs or I buy organic. They may be expensive in comparison with regular eggs but it is very worth it. The yolks are a brighter orange and the shells are thicker and harder to break, not paper thin like other nonorganic eggs. Plus the taste is just delicious and far superior to other eggs on the market.

For a while, I considered raising our own meat too. But I soon learned that my local ordinances prohibit the raising of animals for meat in my neighborhood-not that I’d be all that thrilled with the idea of having to butcher any of our feathered friends. (Jenna would never forgive us!) I checked my local markets and asked where they got their meat from and how it was raised. Most meat department employees blinked at me with a blank expression on their face. One guy took a stab at it but his answer was far from reassuring, “Ummm, Texas…I think?” In the end the conclusion was the same in all our major grocery stores: most of the meat originated from numerous states, raised in multiple feedlots, processed in one of a few facilities, and then shipped to the store I was standing in to be cut up, ground up, and Saran-wrapped to fill the refrigerated cases before me. Yucky! We knew that online organic distributors were too expensive for our pocketbooks so we had to find local distributors that met all our requirements. BJ’s and Publix were two stores that carried these products at prices we could live with.

Tyson and Perdue chicken were and are still on a permanent ban list from our household but surprisingly I found Publix Green Wise chicken was very affordable when on sale (at least twice a month). What makes organic food so expensive is buying it prepackaged and processed. At $1.99 a pound, I was able to purchase an entire free range organic chicken roast for about $8. I’d make a mini Thanksgiving-like meal from it for one night and then strip the carcass and use the remainder of the meat to make chicken soup. Jenna and I would eat chicken soup for lunch and Mike, Jenna, and I would have it for dinner for two days before everything was gone. So that $8 of chicken had quite a run life.

With about 11 servings over 4 days, it equates to around $0.72 per chicken protein serving.
If you include *vegetables, *Organic Chicken Broth and the Organic chicken roast it ran about $16 total.
$16 to feed three people (Naomi is mainly breastfed at the moment) for four days, that’s $4 a day! Now, who says that eating healthy isn’t affordable? Want to save even more money on organic food-grow or raise it yourself! Your family's tummy and your wallet will thank you :)

Favorite Organic on a Budget Finds
Item	What Makes it a Safer Choice for Your Family	Most Affordable Location	Price (Current prices at the time of writing)
Publix Green Wise Whole Young Chicken Roast Without Giblets	USDA GRAE A Raised without antibiotics, no added hormones, vegetarian diet, air-chilled, no artificial ingredients or preservatives.	Publix	Net Wt: 3.76 lb, Unit Price $1.99/ lb Total Price: $7.48
Publix Green Wise Organic Grade A Large Brown Eggs	USDA Organic, Quality Certification Services, No hormones or antibiotics, zero trans fats, 5 g Carb per egg, and Cage Free	Publix	$3.74 per dozen
Bunny-Luv Organic Juice Carrots	Certified Organic by California Certified Organic Famers	Publix	Net WT 25 lb at about $0.60 a pound Total Price $14.99
Rice Dream Organic Rice Milk	USDA Organic, Enriched with Vitamins A, D, B12 & Calcium Lactose, gluten, & dairy free You don’t have to worry about the treatment of cows-no hormone or antibiotic worries! Plus it does not have to be refrigerated until it’s open so it is great for stocking your pantry.	Walmart	64 FL OZ (1/2 Gallon) $3.50 a container
Pacific Natural Foods Organic Free Range Chicken Broth	USDA Organic Free Range, gluten-free, Certified Organic by Oregon Tilth, grain fed chickens raised without hormones or antibiotics in an environment where they can roam freely. All organic ingredients.	BJ’s	32 FL OZ (1 QT) 6 pack costs $10.99 so 1 32 FL OZ at $1.83 is way cheaper than regular nonorganic brands.

*vegetables (either grown in our garden for free, harvested by Mike at the farm he volunteers at or purchased for $1 at Kroegel Homestead Produce’s clearance bins http://kroegelproduce.us/)

*Pacific Natural Foods Organic Free Range Chicken Broth (available at BJ’s for under $2 for a 32oz container)

The Spirit of Giving

2011-12-24T18:31:00.000-08:00

I woke up this morning to the sounds of Naomi cooing sweetly and the tap tap tap of her little hands on my cheek. I opened my eyes and stared into her smiling wide eyed face. She thinks she’s hot stuff now that she is on all fours and can pull herself to the side of her co-sleeper and reach me. “Morning Mama!” Jenna said softly, snuggled in my other arm-her Elmo quilt spread across us both. I kissed my girls and relished in the gift of one precious extra hour of sleep given to me by my husband.

No matter the struggles we have been going through I am blessed to have a roof over my head, food on the table, and my husband and girls by my side. How rich I am on this Christmas Eve! As I lay there warm and soft in my daughter’s twin bed I thought of how many out there are sacrificing and doing without this holiday season. It made me think of a story I told to my students each year. One that I’d like to share with you now…

It was an unusually cold night that December 21^st 1989. Catechism had ended early and the children were frenzied with joyful anticipation of Christmas and too much sugar consumed at the class party. A little girl sporting a blond pony tail and scraped knees raced through the church grounds daring over her shoulder for her friend to try to tag her, “Na-Na-girls rule, boys drool!” The boy sprinted after her but soon bent over to catch his breath and nurse the cramp in his side.

“You’re too fast for me!” “Besides my dad’s here!” the boy called. Disappointed, the little girl slowed down and watched her friend run to the parked car, “See you next week, Ann!”

“Bye, Patrick!” She yelled, “Merry Christmas!” Her wave became less and less enthusiastic as he drove away. Bummer! She was the only kid who wasn’t going home right away. You see her parents both sang in the choir so she still had an hour to kill before their weekly practice was over. “Everyone else is probably watching Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer right now or Frosty and I’m stuck here…”

The little girl looked around her, the empty parking lot, the dew filled grass, the frogs croaking in the tiny pond behind the parsonage. Its windows were lined with battery operated candles and a soft glow shown from each one. Just one light was on in the house. “I wonder what Father Joe is doing right now?” the little girl wondered, shivering partly from the cold and excitement. She zipped up her jacket and made her way across the pathway, through the grass, and in front of the pariage. All the while an impish smile of a child brainstorming spread across her face. She squatted down and moved like a tiger, a secret agent mission formulated in her mind. Just as she pushed the flower bushes aside a high voice rang out just behind her.

“Um, excuse me little Miss? But what do you think you are doing in the Father’s bushes so late at night?”

“Oh! Hello Mrs. Stein.” “I’m just…” the little girl crawled out of the hibiscus plants, and stood up casually brushing a red flower bud and a snail from her hair, “just wondering if Father Joe is home.” “Is he?”

“Don’t be bothering Father right now, you should be inside with your parents!” “Not gallivanting all over who knows where!” “I’ll stand here and watch until you as you cross the sidewalk go back inside.”

“Oh, alright...” Reluctantly the little girl headed across the crosswalk and slowly walked toward the church hall, taking her time.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” she grumbled under her breath. “It’s not like there’s anything out here that can hurt me!”

“March young lady!” Mrs. Stine ordered.

Ann kicked at a dandilion puff, picked up her steps a little faster, spun three spins around a flag pole and then skipped to the church entrance. She opened the door and music and warm light from inside illuminated the side entryway.

“Merry Christmas!” She heard Mrs. Stein call as she watched her climb into her car. The little girl stopped and turned to reply with a "Merry Christmas" as well but something in the corner, just behind a large flower pot caught her eye. She couldn’t quite make it out but it was silent and motionless. Just then Mrs. Stein’s car drove past and her headlights lit the large object for just a moment. But in that split second the little girl’s eyes grew wide.

Huddled in the corner was an old man. A mess of gray curls and an unshaven beard upon his sun burnt and wrinkled face. His pants and shirt were well worn and caked with stains of dirt and a small backpack lay at his side. Just then the wind blew carrying with it the smell of urine and grime.

“I wonder when he last had a bubble bath.” The little girl wondered silently to herself, when all of a sudden the man opened his eyes. Talks of stranger danger instantly flooded the little girls mind-stories of children who didn’t listen to their mother’s warning to come straight inside after dark and now had gone “missing”. Terror spread across the little girls face and without a breath she bolted inside the open door.

The heavy wood door slammed behind her as she raced across the church to the pews by the choir. There they were singing away. Ann's mom motioned for her to come sit beside her but the little girl stayed put. Typically she would have busied herself in the church storage closet playing dress up with the variety show costumes, or sit in the confessional pretending she was a priest assigning 100 Hail Mary's to all her arch enemies at school. But tonight she was different. Tonight she just wanted to sit. A million thoughts ran through her mind. “Who was that man anyway?” “What’s he doing out there?” “Why isn't he inside where it is warm?”

15 minutes later, the Christmas hymns were perfect and practice was over. The little girl’s mother made her way over and sat beside her daughter. “Where were you, Ann?” “Why didn’t you come right here when the party was over like I told you?” “I had to send Mrs. Stein to go after you,” her mother questioned.

“There’s a man outsid,” Ann interrupted. “He looks like he’s camping but I don't think he is mommy.”

Her mother looked startled, “Where?”

“Out the side door.” The little girl pointed.

“Stay here.” her mother said firmly. Ann watched her mother walk over to her father packing up the microphone wires. Their conversation was inaudible but she knew what it was about. Her mom and dad made their way to the side door and opened it. The little girl sat silently in the pew, fearfully watching them from afar. But the compassion on their faces as her mother knelt down and her parents spoke quietly with the man outside, melted away the possibility of danger. Before she knew it the Ann was listening near the doorway.

“I’m sorry I frightened your little girl.” She overheard the man say.

He did not want the money they offered and insisted that the little girl’s parents not call anyone to find him a place to stay.

“I’m fine, really.” “I don’t want anyone to go to any trouble.” “I’m just resting here for a bit and then I’m heading on.”

Perhaps it was because of the warmth of the music or the peace of being on the doorstep of God’s house that had drawn him there. Ann marveled at the idea and thought in her innocence that if she was allowed to bring her sleeping bag to church, that’s exactly where she’d want to sleep.

“Are you sure, there isn’t anyone we can call for you, or anything we can get you?” the little girls’ father asked.

“I’m fine.” “I just want to rest.” The man replied, “But thank you.”

The little girl could tell the conversation was drawing to a close so she sprinted to the spot her mother had told her to stay and waited for them to return.

“We can’t force him to go to a shelter.” She heard her mother say, “And he won’t take money or food.” “I just wish there was something we could do for him.”

“Who is that man?” the little girl asked. Her father looked at the little girl’s mother, gave a sad smile, and then returned to packing up the musical equipment. The girl’s mother lifted her onto her lap and explained in as gentle a way as possible some of the realities of the world.

“That man has no family honey.” “He’s not lucky like us to have a place to take a shower and to sleep at night.” “He has no home.” “That’s what being homeless is and that is why he is sleeping outside.”

Ann did her best to wrap her mind around the idea of not having any place to call home. Things were tight in their house but they always had food to eat and a roof over their head, yet this man had just the clothes he was wearing and a few items in a backpack.

Walking to the car the little girl’s heart ached for the man. “Outside, all alone in the dark, and on such a cold night too,” she thought to herself as she jumped in the car, buckled her seat belt, and pulled her quilt over her lap. It was a favorite of hers since she was small, one she took with her on each Brownie camp out, or beach trip. Orange, red, and bright, fringed here and there from wear but still fantastically soft and warm.

Santa had brought her a new one last Christmas but she hadn't been able to part with her old one. It was special. She planned to keep that blanket till the day she died, but as she sat there wrapped in its comfort she thought of the huddled man in the corner. That’s when the little girl noticed her mother staring at her from the front passenger seat.

“You know, it’s an awfully cold night.” Her mom offered.

“Yep.” The little girl answered trying not to make eye contact with her mother.

“That poor man is out there with no jacket.” “I bet he is real cold.” Her mother continued.

“Hmm.” Ann looked at her quilt in her hands. She thought of all the happy times she had making tents with it, how when she was wrapped in it had the magic to make monsters...

“Can’t we go home and get him a blanket?” she asked.

“We could try, but he might not be here by the time we get back and he is really cold right now.” Her mother smiled softly.

Ann knew what her heart was telling her but she was torn. Mrs. Stein’s words from one of her Catechism class suddenly reared up their head in her mind, “Just ask yourself, what would God want me to do?”

“God loves children and he would want me to be happy.” The little girl tried to reason in her mind, “If I keep my blanket that will make me happy.” “God will take care of the man outside.” But when she waited for the reassurance of peace, it never came. She knew what God would want her to do and suddenly she started to sniffle.

“Honey, it’s your blanket and your decision.” The little girl’s mother said trying to comfort her daughter.

“I know.” The little girl sniffed. She tried to force the overwhelming urge to give the man her blanket beneath her desire to keep it for herself, until finally she couldn’t fight it any longer.

Ann gathered up the quilt in her arms and with her mother and father made her way to the man in the corner. She stretched out her small arm and handed the blanket to the man. She tried to do it bravely, but wiped tears from her eyes as she said, “Here, you go.”

The man looked up and there was kindness and gratitude in his eyes. His voice was hoarse and weak as he spoke, “Thank you.”

He carefully wrapped the quilt around himself. She would have said “You’re welcome” but all she could muster was a silent nod. In that moment the freezing wind started to blow and the sadness in Ann's heart slowly began to lift. She turned to walk away with her parents; “God bless you!!!” the man called after her. The little girl smiled over her shoulder and waved back at the man now covered in the warmth of orange and red.

As the little family drove away in their blue station wagon Ann knew she had made the right decision. She may not have been completely happy about it at first but she had done it anyway. She thought of Jesus and how he had been frightened in the Garden before he was captured and died on the Cross for all of our sins. He must have been scared too but he did it anyway. In that moment the eight year old girl had an epiphany. Sometimes doing the right thing can be the hardest thing. The cold air howled outside the car window and her father offered to turn on the heat. “That’s Ok, Daddy.” “I’m good.” She said. And it was true. She had never felt warmer.

Genetic Germaphobia

2011-12-17T05:27:00.000-08:00

As a kid I always knew my Grandpa Jim was….different. He was a poet/songwriter through and through, a traveler who never stayed in one place long enough to cultivate deep roots. Grandpa Jim took a respite from his wanderings for a few years in my young adulthood, during which time I got to know him better. I can still hear his slow voice in between cigarette puffs, “Did you know that you are talking to the smartest man in the world?” “Take Grandpa’s advice….and you’ll do great, kid.” His guidance was…interesting to say the least, “People are filled with germs I tell you… crawling all over them inside and out…that’s why I drink a swing of this each day (he pointed to a glass bottle that stunk like rubbing alcohol)….so I can kill the worms I breathe in the air…”

I remember one day when I stopped by his trailer to check on him and the overwhelming scent of disinfectant nearly knocked me over. When I asked my grandpa what he was cleaning he said, “Some weirdo lady at the coffee shop was coughing all over the place….so I gave myself a good wash down with Lysol spray and a rag.” Of course I explained to Grandpa that was toxic but he wouldn’t listen. How can you argue with “the smartest man in the world”?

A week later I had popped in to say hey and Grandpa noticed my runny eyes and stuffy nose. “Are you sick?” he asked with hesitation in his voice, slowly closing the door so that only a crack remained. I explained that my allergies were acting up because the pine trees were pollinating but he must have thought I’d contaminated him somehow because later that day he put an open cup of bleach in front of a fan to “sterilize the air he was breathing.” It’s amazing he lived to be 79 and died from emphysema and not his many attempts at self-preservation.

I suppose the apple never falls too far from the tree because my father is a 2^nd generation germaphobic. As a teenager, I remember being quite annoyed by my father because he wouldn’t order an ice cream cone from MacDonald’s. “You just don’t understand Jamie.” “That kid in there handles the money-the same money that has circulated through thousands of hands.” “Then he grabs a cone, fills it with ice cream, and does he hold it by the paper protector like he is supposed to?” “NO!”
Dad was terrified that his cone would be contaminated and he’d be so preoccupied worrying about the diseases he was contracting that he wouldn’t be able to enjoy his treat. Instead, he forever ordered his ice cream in a cup and then did his best to restrain himself as I attempted to enjoy my ice cream cone in peace.

I remember hearing the retelling of one MacDonald’s in particular that had a mess of ketchup all over the counter and no soap or paper towels in the bathroom. When my father brought it to the attention of the teenaged employee wearing a t-shirt stained with French fry grease, the kid just shrugged, preceded to hand my dad his Big Mac order, and said: “Oh I know, we’ve been out of soap all day.” My dad nearly gagged and bee-lined it for the exit, leaving his meal behind him. It was funny how relieved he was when that same restaurant burned down six months later. Yet his germ phobia didn’t die with it.

Dad hated to touch the menus at any restaurant and would often use napkins to read them or lift BBQ bottles to squirt sauce on his sandwich. He would never play checkers with me or that little peg game at Cracker Barrel because “You never know who handled them.” If he ordered ice tea and someone’s hand at the table touched the rim he’d use an alcohol wipe or ask for a new glass. As a kid, watching him squirm was fun. I’d take a sip of his drink and tell him so when his glass was nearly empty or I’d touch him with an “infected” finger with my checker playing hand after he had already washed his hands in the bathroom.

As an adult, living in my own home with my own family, I sometimes forget how germ phobic he is. But the other day I got a reminder. After I first posted the blog, Gobbles Gone By, I got a phone call from my dad requesting a word change:

“Well, I’m not comfortable with the statement- But there was no room left in the driveway so we had to park in an empty lot next to my parent’s house.” “I don’t want people to think we live so close to a lot full of dog poop.” “I don’t even want to think about the fact that I live next to a lot full of dog poop.”

I had started to laugh, “Alright so what would you like me to say so you’re not so freaked out?”

“I’d like it to read-we had to park in an empty lot down the street from my parents’ house…”“Jamie, don’t laugh!” “I’m serious!!!”

“I know Daddy!” “It’s just the way that you are.” “That’s what’s so funny!”

Looking back at memories from my Grandpa Jim and my father I knew there was no way I was going to let myself become like them…Until today….

My family and I were at this awesome light’s display at Tara Plantation, a lawyers firm in a gorgeous two-story house on a beautiful piece of property. Naomi was tucked in her hip hammock happily taking in the scene of thousands of Christmas lights and moving figurines.
Upon entering I noticed this very nice gentleman shaking the hands of each person walking in. I can only imagine how many hands he shook in the last three hours but for a moment I was grateful that my one hand was supporting Naomi and the other was holding on to Jenna’s Elmo harness so I would be socially exempt from touching him.

The first room we toured offered cookies and punch. While waiting in line, Naomi gave some especially adorable grins to the other guests and of course, she kicked gleefully when they fussed back at her.

“Oh! What a dolly!” one lady said. “She looks like the Gerber baby on the baby food jars.”

"Thank you." I smiled back and unconsciously I found myself taking a couple steps backward as they moved in closer. Before I could escape, I was surrounded by two elderly ladies and a gentleman that could have been anyone’s Grandma and Pop-Pop.

Now I know that many of our snowbirds in our area are desperate for child contact. I’m sure many of their children, grandchild, and great grandkids are all still in Connecticut or someplace but I just don’t understand how people think it is acceptable to touch a stranger’s baby. Naomi gives the slightest coo and people are trying to tickle under her chin, hold her hand, “steal” her nose, and then to my extreme HORROR, the gentleman attempted to kiss my little girl on her hand. HELLLO!!! Do they not know the variety of illnesses that are out there?

In an attempt not to kill the Christmas spirit that was echoing throughout the Martha Stuart like plantation I opted for “Thank you for your compliments, please excuse me.” I flew across the room and found my mom feeding Jenna a frosting covered sugar cookie and a cup of red # 5 masquerading as fruit punch. I tried to look extra busy adjusting Jenna’s Elmo leash/harness. Just as I stood up my mom was pinching Naomi’s cheek and “beeping” her on the nose. Normally I wouldn’t have cared. She’s my mom after all, but she had shaken the hand of the man at the door who had been shaking the hands of God Only Knows Who…...

Mom's have an instinctual protection drive and mine instantly overrode the polite portion of my brain. My mouth shot it out before my brain could stop me, “PLEASE stop touching Naomi and putting that door greeter guy’s handshake germs all over her head!” My mom blinked at me. My brain raced over what I had just said and I was shocked at myself. "DID I REALLY JUST SAY THAT OUT-LOUD?"

“Wow, I’m so sorry mom…I didn’t mean for that to come out like that!” “It’s just that guy touched how many…”

My mom just smiled at me. “It’s alright Jamie.” “I know how you are.” “You’re just like your father.”

“What?” “No, I’m not!” I started to protest, but out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the same Naomi-face-touching trio from earlier starting to make their way over again. Before I knew it I was down the hall and casually concealed behind a giant Santa statue. I handed Naomi a chewy in an attempt to quiet her cooing.

“Just like my father?” “I’m not as bad as my dad!” I reassured myself as I discretely washed Naomi’s hands, cheek, and nose off with a baby wipe. But images kept flashing through my mind of myself using hand sanitizer after touching the gas pump, using a Ninja-like balance to push restroom doors open with my shoe, strategically choosing the first bathroom stall because statistically, it is the least filthy, mastering aerial #1 to avoid touching the toilet seat.

When had I crossed over and became my father?

The truth is that each of us has a bit of our parents in us. No matter how hard we may swear when we grow up we will never do THAT, we often find ourselves surprised one day to step back and see our dad or mom staring us back in the mirror. Today was my day. I may not be as bad as Jack Nicholson in As Good As It Gets, or that guy on Munch, but I am defiantly affected by the idea of cross-contamination in public places. If I give it a few years it may develop into a full clinical case of third generation Germaphobia, but right now I’m just trying to be safer than sorry. :)

FYI: Top 12 Places You Risk Getting Infected

(Courtesy of Dr. Mercola http://articles.mercola.com/sites/articles/archive/2007/12/13/12-top-places-you-risk-getting-infected.aspx )

1. Your kitchen sink: With more dirt than a typical bathroom, and over 500,000 bacteria per square inch in the drain, your kitchen sink basin and faucet are teeming with germs.

2. Airplane bathrooms: Never mind the fecal bacteria that’s commonly found on door handles and faucets, the worst part is the tornado of germy particles that’s spewed into the air when you flush the toilet.

3. Wet laundry (even after it’s been washed): A dirty pair of underwear contains about a gram of fecal matter, and this gets spread around the entire load of laundry very quickly. It’s not until you dry the clothes that the germs are destroyed.

4. Drinking fountains: All public drinking fountains are loaded with germs, but those in schools -- which contained anywhere from 62,000 to 2.7 million bacteria per square inch of the spigot -- were the worst.

5. Shopping cart handles: While you’re innocently shopping for groceries, your hands are grasping a handle covered in saliva, bacteria and fecal matter from dozens of people.

6. ATM buttons: Think about how often these buttons are touched everyday. Now think about how often they’re cleaned. This explains why one study found an average of over 1,200 bacteria on the average ATM key.

7. Your handbag: Women, your purse is likely overrun with thousands, and even millions, of bugs like salmonella, E. coli, staph bacteria and more. Makes you think twice about putting your handbag on the floor, and then plopping it down onto your kitchen counter, doesn’t it?

8. Playgrounds: Your typical children’s playground is covered in bodily fluids like blood, mucus, saliva and urine.

9. Mats and machines at health clubs: Yoga mat? Elliptical machine? Think bacteria factory. Such mats and cardio machines have been found to contain antibiotic-resistant staph bacteria and more.

10. Your bathtub: Bathtubs contain more than 100,000 bacteria per square inch, some of which you have just washed off your own body.

11. Your office phone: Phones get coated with germs from your mouth and hands, to the tune of over 25,000 germs per square inch.

12. Hotel-room remote control: This little remote has been used by hundreds of other people, and likely wasn’t thoroughly disinfected in between.

Holly Jolly Christmas

2011-12-12T20:23:00.000-08:00

As Christmas approaches, I have to admit that I’m feeling pretty jolly and well prepared for the first time in…I can’t remember. Our Christmas tree was up and our Christmas cards were in the mail by December 2^nd. Since the first showing on Thanksgiving Day, Jenna has become a mad fan of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and has been watching it over and over again. She’s memorized the script and nearly all of the words to each song. She loves it so much that my mom gave her a Christmas sing-along soundtrack to the movie which we have been listening to during each car ride-short or long. Most days I accept Jenna’s invite and sing along to favorites like Clarice’s There’s Always Tomorrow or Sam the Snowman’s Holly Jolly Christmas. Naomi seems to enjoy the tunes as well but most days she is very preoccupied with trying to cut her first tooth by gumming everything in sight (including my chin). “Nom!” Nom!” “NOM!” There is the tiniest tip of a grain of rice just peaking on her bottom gum line, so I just know her hard work and drool will pay off in the near future.

By some foresight and divine intervention, I got most of the girl’s Christmas shopping done the day after Christmas last year. December 26^th is like a second black Friday-only less crowded. Stores are extra motivated to get rid of surplus toy merchandise and I am only happy to help them out with deals of 50% off or better. Because of my fabulous finds last year, the only purchases I had to make was the unforeseen Jenna request for a blue guitar. We thought it was a fluke at first. But her wish from Santa hasn’t changed in the last three months so I found one online for $16.95. Her only other request was a dance game similar to the Wii Dance Revolution game. I found a DVD kid version on eBay for $9 and a bonus find of a Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer figurine play set in BJ’s for $4.97. Naomi’s still too small to make requests so Santa will be bringing a Jumperoo play center and a puppet frog that croaks songs. Overall we’ve spent around $100 but if I had to guess our items would have totaled over $400 if it weren’t for the good deals.

Some people would find our reduced financial circumstances depressing during the holidays but I can’t express enough in words how wonderful it is to take the financial stress out of Christmas. We gave the family a heads up a long while ago that things would be simple this year. My side of the family agreed that gifts would only be given to kids under the age of 18. If I had it my way I’d join my dad’s thinking and spend Christmas like the pioneers did. I never forgot reading a Little House on the Prairie book about Christmas when Santa brought a rag doll, a gingerbread cookie, an orange, and a stick of peppermint. That was when the focus of Christmas was on the birth of Christ instead of materialism. Who knew that me being home and our family operating under such a tight budget would become such a liberating experience.

To celebrate our newfound focus Mike and I have been making a huge effort to get in all the fun holiday activities that we had always been too busy to fit in before. We went to the town Christmas parade and have been driving around looking at neighborhood Christmas lights. Jenna and I have been baking and doing Christmas crafts each day to make little gifts from her to the family. We’ve got two upcoming dates with Cowboy Christmas at Laporte Farms and Tara Plantation’s light spectacular (which Mike has talked about for years and now we are finally getting to go).

We also started two new Christmas traditions in our household. On Thanksgiving, we read the book Elf On the Shelf to Jenna and Naomi. For those of you who aren’t familiar with it, the book is the story of an Elf who acts as a scout for Santa Claus. Each day he watches for children’s behavior and then he flies to the North Pole at night to report to Santa whether each little girl or boy has been naughty or nice. When he returns the next morning he finds a new hiding place.

Jenna named our house Elf, Elfie, and it has become a fun game each morning for Jenna to find Elfie and give him good reports like, “I just peeped on the potty again Elfie.” Or “Elfie, look, I gave Nomie (Naomi) her doll back.” (Of course, she leaves out the minor detail that the reason Naomi is crying is that Jenna had just ripped the doll from Naomi’s hands two minutes before she “gave it back”). Still the extra set of eyes “watching” Jenna each day has been very much welcomed. Elfie has become a comrade in arms so to speak and I find myself mentioning him frequently throughout my day, “Elfie isn’t going to like that you put Mindy-dog’s food in daddy’s slippers.” Or “Are you going to clean those up or do I have to tell Elfie you put Dora the Explorer Stickers all over your sister?” Is it low for a mom to turn snitch to a stuffed Christmas Elf? If it brings peace and goodwill to the world, I think not!

But what excites me even more than my new found Elf power is the second tradition Mike and I started. On Thanksgiving Day we sat down and made a list of all the answered prayers that we have received in the past year. At first, it seems hard to remember but once we got going we found more and more things that we were grateful for, things we had been praying for and had received, things that had brought joy to our lives. It was a list sort of like the Glad Game that Pollyanna played in the movie Pollyanna. After a couple days the list started to get longer and longer. So we cut strips of green and red construction paper and wrote one item from our list on each strip of paper and made it into a Christmas chain. Jenna had a blast trying out the tape for the first time and Mike and I were amazed how our answered prayers and joys from the year quickly encircled the entire length of our tree from top to bottom. Accompanying our angel Christmas balls, ribbon, and ice sickles, I’d say this is the most beautiful tree we’ve ever had.

So with the advent wreath that Jenna made in Sunday school placed beside our Nativity scene, we happily anticipate the coming of Christmas (and the finding of baby Jesus which Jenna was playing with and has since lost). The magical array of warm cookies and Christmas hams will be welcomed treats and I can’t wait to see Jenna’s face when she opens her guitar on Christmas morning so that she can be just like “Murray from the Wiggles only blue not red.” But as I look at our Christmas garland chain on our tree there is one link that I am most grateful for: I am so grateful that I get to be home with my girls so I can enjoy every moment of this season with them.

Gobbles Gone By

2011-11-30T19:25:00.000-08:00

I can’t believe Thanksgiving was already a week ago. The days leading up to it were anything but joyful as a disagreement with Mike's family had escalated into an episode of Everyone Loves Raymond. Still, Thanksgiving Day, Mike and I made a point to enjoy it together. We agreed to a technology break, and didn't turn the computer on for the entire day. We went for a drive, took the girls to the park, baked turkey & leaf-shaped cookies, and then Mike played with the girls as I started the day-long preparations for the meal that evening. Gluten, soy, and dairy free sweet potatoes, white potatoes, pumpkin pie, corn, peas, and finally turkey. I forgot about the turkey until my dad showed up to borrow my baster one hour before we were supposed to be at my mom’s house. I panicked, yanked the defrosted three-pound breast roast from the fridge and then desperately searched the cooking directions for the time. 1 and ¾ hours-NNNOOOOO!!!

“How on Earth am I supposed to enjoy Thanksgiving dinner without having any turkey-my favorite part of this holiday meal experience?” Then my eyes fell upon the words- microwave oven- and my heart skipped a beat. Microwave at 30% power for…..50 minutes!!! Hallelujah, I was saved. I chucked the bird into a glass dish, and 5 beeps latter was pouring the potatoes into serving’s platters. Mike was looking super handsome and Jenna and Naomi adorable. I had just 20 minutes to get myself presentable so I put on a Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer DVD to distract Jenna, gave Mike a playful swat on the butt, and made my way to the bathroom.

I showered, then glanced at the clock and called in between toothbrush strokes, “Jenna!” “We are leaving in 10 minutes!” “Mike, does she have her shoes on yet?” I rushed out of the bedroom to find that not only was Jenna barefoot but she had ripped off the matching velvet headband and undid the beautiful braid from her hair that I had so painstakingly styled before. Naomi was making faces foreshadowing a massive dirty diaper and the microwave was screaming that my turkey was finished. “What did you say, honey?” Mike blinked up at me from the couch.

In three trips to the car, Mike and I loaded the girls, 6 dishes of food, and with my wet hair dripping, pulled out of the driveway and headed down the road. Thankfully my parents live only a mile away or our fashionably late 10 minutes would have been much worse. But there was no room left in the driveway so we had to park in an empty lot down the street from my parent’s house, a favorite with neighbors walking their dogs, making it the last place I would want to be.

“Watch where you step!” I said as I went to take Jenna from her car seat. That's when I noticed she was barefoot. “Jenna where are your shoes?” I said aloud but directed my gaze to Mike who just shrugged exasperatedly and said, “I couldn’t find them and then she threw a tantrum.” “Besides we were already late.” I flung Jenna over one hip, balancing the pie in the other hand, tiptoed my way through the field of landmines, up the street to the driveway, and then to the front door.

“I WANNA WALLLKK! I WAANNNNAA WALK!” Jenna screamed the entire way.

The door opened as Jenna continued her display of protest, “WAAAAHHHHH!”

“Hi, Andrea.” I said to my cousin and when I saw her surprised face, I said, “Yeah, happy Thanksgiving to you too.”

“Ummm?” She raised her eyes questionably as she stared at Jenna rolling around on the doormat.

“Don’t ask!” I said. I handed the pie to my cousin; left Jenna collapsed in a crying heap on the tile floor, and then headed back to the car to continue to unload.

Grass, poop, grass poop, I managed to reload both hands with food items and began to head back when I realized no one was behind me. “Mike?” I yelled out loud but he wasn’t there. “If he left me out here to get all this stuff alone I am going to be so mad,” I grumbled under my breath. I took a couple more steps and then for some reason I stopped cold dead in my tracks.

Was it the thickness of the grass or the heaviness of my new Ann Klein heals slowing me down….That’s when I noticed it. The huge pile of sundried German Sheppard sized poop speared like a shish kabob on my right high heal. “No, I softly whimpered.” My first new pair of shoes in a year and a half and the only reason I even got them was that my mother in law gave me that awesome gift card for my birthday. “My mother in law,” I thought to myself, “who thinks I’m a control freak wife who forces Mike to do whatever I want.” I wanted to cry but just when the first tear was about to fall, my wonderful brother came around the corner.

“Hey Jame, do you need any help?”

“Yes! Please!!!” I sniffed, “Thank you so much, Jesse!” “Where is Mike anyway?”

“He’s inside talking.”

I felt my nostrils flare and self-pity over my ruined birthday shoes morphed into a stressed out mama/misunderstood daughter in law/forgotten wife- anger. I plodded forcibly through the grass toward the house, chunks of brownish-gray flying from my right shoe. Kicking off my shoes by the front porch, I turned the knob with my finger like toes (a skill perfected in my youth) and pushed the door open. There was Mike, laughing away at something my Uncle Wayne had just said. I tried to keep cool but as I opened my mouth I was shocked by the high decimal at which my words came, “Miiikkke?” “I’ve got like 16 other things to bring IN!” Actually, it was more like 6 but stress overload caused my brain to malfunction.

I borrowed a pair of my mom's shoes and spoke just above a whisper as Mike, my Uncle, and I walked back to the van, “Did you forget how much food we have to bring in?” “Don't you realize I need your help?” “Were you honestly going to leave me to bring it in by myself after I cooked all day long and now have to truck it all into the house on my own?” Poor Mike didn’t have a chance to answer in between my rapid fire questions. Then my frustrations switched to another subject, “You want to be there don’t you?” I questioned him. “You wish you had done what your mom said for you to do and gone by yourself to her house for Thanksgiving and left me alone with the kids.”

“No, Jamie," Mike said, "I told you that is not what I wanted.” “I want to spend the day with you and our girls.” “Now, you said you’d try to put this whole mess with my mom out of your mind for the day.”

“I know, but…”

Mike interrupted, “Listen, I’m sorry I forgot to help bring these dishes in.” “Your Uncle and I started talking about cars, and…well you know me.” I took a deep breath then sighed. (There isn’t another non-human thing on this Earth that Mike loves more than cars.)

As we trotted across the lawn for the last time with the bowls and plates in our hands it occurred to me just how stupid the whole thing was. Mike and I basically brought an entire mini Thanksgiving feast to Thanksgiving dinner. It would have been easier on me and less stress for Mike and the girls if we had just stayed home.

But once I got inside, gave my greetings, and saw all the family’s smiles, my heart started to calm. It was an inconvenience, but it was our last Thanksgiving with Jesse before he headed off into the world and who knows how many more we will have with Grandma.

After grace, everyone dug in. I was delighted to find that my mom made me my own special gluten-free stuffing which was just delicious. My first time ever microwave turkey tasted just like the real thing, only crispier on the outside, so I still got to enjoy my favorite meal of the year after all. I had a lot to be thankful for: my family’s health, a roof over our heads, two beautiful girls, an amazing husband (who sometimes forgets to help unload the car but dearly loves his wife and kids), a God who is faithful no matter what life throws at us, and a family who loves me. It was a good day and a great Thanksgiving.

The next morning I decided to forgo the chaos of Black Friday shopping for the first time in 11 years. Instead of massive deals, I got a different blessing, resolution with my mother-in-law. I am happy to report that we received an email from Mama-V late Friday night asking that we put this incident behind us and that, when we are ready, they’d love to see us. How wonderful that she and Mike’s dad are Christians who believe in the importance of reconciliation. Saturday morning we had a wonderful visit and it was as if nothing had ever happened between us. So, I’m another year older, another year wiser, and another Thanksgiving is behind us. I’m not sure all that the future holds for our little family but I can say that we are stronger than we used to be in more ways than even I can imagine.

Thanksgiving Traditions

2011-11-20T03:54:00.000-08:00

My Best Friend Meri and I at our school's Thanksgiving Feast.
Around 1988

Growing up, Thanksgiving was always my favorite holiday. Traditions on my mom’s side of the family go way back. My grandmother cooked pies for days and then woke up early to begin roasting the turkey and preparing the sides that cars full of cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents would joyfully devour that evening. My mother and her four siblings, and her parents would get dressed up in full head to toe costume as Plymouth Pilgrims and Wampanoag Indians.

When I came along, the tradition of dressing up transferred to the feast days we had at school. I adorned the blue dress/apron left over from my Alice in Wonderland costume and a white paper plate bonnet tied with yarn around my chin. We’d spend the day writing poems about what we were grateful for that year and make handprint and pine cone turkeys. Gleefully I awaited the rarity of both my mom and dad as guests for the school’s Thanksgiving lunch. The cafeteria would serve thinly sliced turkey loaf drenched in “gravy”, rehydrated mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, cranberry jelly, and a square of crust-less pumpkin pie topped with a cloud of Cool Whip. It was hands down the best meal of the cafeteria year. To have so many wonderful favorites all on the same plate was a dream come true. And it only got better the next day.

Thursday morning I’d wake up early, twirling around the living room in my Sunday best. I anticipated the moment Thanksgiving mass would be over and we'd return so I could plant myself in front of the television to watch the live showing of the Macy’s day parade. The commercials were awesome and Publix did their best to top themselves every year. Last Train Home aired when I was I was about six and to this day still makes my eyes misty. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=33kp7YTdQi0 While mom cooked, I’d marvel at the floats, giant balloons, and dance teams, wishing I could be there wrapped in a warm coat, ice skating at Rockefeller center, the snow gently forming a soft veil over my blond ponytail. “Wow! Mommy, you’ve got to see this!!!”

“Just a minute,” Mom would be making her assigned dishes of corn, mashed potatoes, and rolls. The smells of butter would have me salivating in anticipation for the afternoon meal at my grandmother’s house. I’d have just enough time to irritate my parents with three rounds of “Over the river and through the woods to Grandmother’s house we go…” before we arrived just three miles away. My cousins and I would rush off to play as car after car arrived with family bringing their assigned dish. Grandma always made the turkey, Brussels sprouts & cauliflower with cheese sauce, Aunt Carol made the turnips and sweet potatoes, Aunt Linda baked the best apple and pumpkin pies with enough for each family to take a pumpkin pie home.

Thanksgiving was one of the few holidays in my family that people didn’t seem stressed out from all the shopping and light hanging. It was a time to rejoice over the blessings that year had brought, to embrace the family and friends around us, and be grateful to God for all he had given us. I was probably the only kid I knew that valued Thanksgiving as much as Christmas. Sure Christmas was great, but the older I got the more precious Thanksgiving became. It was a glorious day and the most important day of the year for me.

When my husband and I married we suddenly had two households to visit and only one Thanksgiving to do so. I guess that is just one of the challenges that come with the blessing of having both families close by-how do we divide our time for the Holidays? Christmas was always easier because Christmas Eve and Christmas Day would usually depend on when my sister-in-law, Tasha, drove in from up North with her family. In the beginning, we did Christmas Day at both houses, but the last couple of years we’d do either Christmas Eve with Mike’s family or mine and then Christmas Day with the other.

My husband comes from Russian ancestry, so Easter is an extremely important holiday in his family and especially for my mother-in-law, Mama-V. Easter was like Mike’s Thanksgiving is to me -his most favorite holiday. So for the last consecutive four years of our marriage, we made it a priority to spend Easter day with my husband’s family.

Managing Thanksgiving after marriage, however, was always a bit trickier. The first year Mike and I got married we did two Thanksgiving events on that day, one with my mom’s family, one with his. The second-year Jenna was still small so we were only able to pop in at my Aunt Linda’s house for a hello and then ate dinner at his parent’s house. The third-year Mike’s parents were in Missouri with his sister on Thanksgiving Day so we ate at my Aunt Carol’s House and then shared a Thanksgiving meal with Mike’s parents on another day at their house.

This year, well….this year things changed. Originally Mike and I had wanted to host the Thanksgiving meal at our house. With Naomi’s dietary needs, I would have to make our own gluten/dairy/soy free turkey, gravy, dressing, potatoes, and pumpkin pie anyway. But when we brought up the idea, people thought our 1,200 square foot house was too small to accommodate everyone. Instead, we reluctantly resolved ourselves to do two meals again (one with each family) in one day.

A few days later the time change had caused nap chaos for the girls and Jenna took on a new personality of total crankiness. Loss mitigation wasn’t going well with the mortgage company, the Toyota Camry still hadn’t sold, the bills were overflowing, and Mike got a new student at the last second resulting in more paperwork. Conferences, home visits, parent night, faculty meetings- Mike’s work got more and more stressful. One night when Jenna was still wide awake at 9 p.m. for the third night in a row, Mike leaned over and grimaced at me, “I’m really hating the idea of running everywhere for Thanksgiving. And I’m really starting to hate the holidays altogether.” We knew we had to change things or we’d both go insane.

Then I got an email from Focus on the Family with an article talking about this very same thing titled: The Holidays Times Two.

http://www.focusonthefamily.com/marriage/daily_living/celebrating_the_holidays/the_holidays_times_two.aspx

These points really hit home for Mike and I:

1) “You can please some of the people some of the time, but you can't please all of the people all of the time" is never truer than when it comes to where you are going to spend the holidays.

2) Both spouses' families can sometimes place unrealistic expectations on couples and put them in awkward situations……You're caught in the middle, feeling guilty that you can't be in two places at the same time.

3) A good place to begin is to discuss which holidays are important to each of you and why. Perhaps one of your families makes a big deal of Thanksgiving but Christmas is low-key. You may want to celebrate Thanksgiving with them and visit the other family for Christmas.

4) You can't please everyone, so together decide what's best for the two of you.

5) Review your options annually, and be willing to adjust your holiday plans to match your new circumstances. Making a change can be good, especially when it brings your life into balance; now may be a good time to introduce one.

It was exactly 12 days before Thanksgiving. We talked about it, laid out the pros and cons, and then worked out a compromise. Because we had spent Easter this year with his family, Mike and I would do Thanksgiving dinner with my family. We’d go to church with his family Thanksgiving morning and then have his family over for a nice dinner the weekend following so we could see them too. Mike called his parents the next day and tried to explain, but….unfortunately, things didn’t go as well as hoped.

I’m learning in my married life that no matter how good our intentions are people will still get hurt. All we can do is our try our best to be fair and attempt to express that we meant no harm. Like the Focus on the Family article said, we can’t make everyone happy. As husband and wife, Mike and I are a team (no matter what other people may think) and ultimately it is our joint decision what is best for our family of four.

As the article also pointed out, circumstances can change from year to year. So we will review our Thanksgiving commitments next year and not make any concrete plans until then. With the mortgage company being the evil breed they are, our circumstances will most likely be very different by then.

Mike told me that he’d be perfectly happy staying home, just the four of us for all the holidays ever after. “After all this drama, I’d be happy to live in the middle of nowhere someplace in North Carolina and just do Thanksgiving with you and the girls.” I laughed and agreed that didn’t sound too terrible to me. After all, we had wanted to stay home in the first place. Perhaps next year we will have Thanksgiving at our house, and then anyone who wants to come can join us.

Until next year, we focus instead on the coming days ahead. I look forward to making handprint turkeys with Jenna, paper plate pilgrim bonnets, and the smell of my own little gluten free turkey cooking in the oven. Mike, Jenna, Naomi and I certainly have been blessed in so many ways and have a great deal to be Thankful for this year. But most especially, I look forward to starting new Thanksgiving traditions with Mike and my girls. Now if only I could track down my mom’s old Wampanoag Indian headdress. J