Who needs sleep?

So it's 5:30 in the morning and I'm milking cows...WAIT. No I am not. Sorry, a little Weird Al Amish Paradise slipped into my strain of consciousness. I am awake, and writing a blog post. I just read pretty much every post Rachel at Finding Joy has ever written- and she's a genius. I don't have the words to construct mommy life like she does. But I read her To the Tired Moms post and it struck a chord.

When is the last time you, as a mommy, have slept through the entire night? Seriously- NOT ONE WAKE UP? Even if your kids are champion sleepers (which mine are when we are following our regular school-home-sleep schedule) you wake up anyway, I am pretty sure. Whether it's to look at the monitor, or check on a little one- you wake up. When you're nursing and bed sharing, even if it's to roll over and pop a boob out, you wake up. If your kid coughs like maybe he'll puke- you wake up. If he's (tonights saga) calling mama and saying "Stuff Nose! Stuff Nose! Water squirter on pweeese! (little dude wanted his humidifier on, apparently) you wake up.

It's been four years for me. FOUR FREAKING YEARS. I spent four nights in the hospital after J's birth- even though he had quality time in the nursery at night, I still woke up to pump, or chat with my nurses. I wouldn't even know what to do if I slept ALL. NIGHT. LONG. I spent four years in college and three in grad school, and I was always so tired. YEAH RIGHT. That was cake. This is real life. There is rest, of course- I couldn't teach all day and keep the house moderately (that's a stretch but go with it) tidy if I didn't have rest. Even if that's twelve minutes face down on the couch while the boys play nicely (i.e. don't try to kill each other) with cars. Still, that's not a night of uninterrupted sleep. Honestly, at this stage, I don't have a clue how my system would handle it. I think I would freak out, completely.

But that's ok. I've adapted. I'm cool with it. My little nuggets of love are well worth it, even if they are snoring besides me, just to rub it in.

I wasted SO MUCH TIME.

Yes, when I was single, or even married, and childless, I just frittered away time. I have no clue what I did, but I was always up to date on Grey's and CSI. I think I must have just had numerous leisurely lunches. Now that I am a mama to two, I don't even know what I did with myself. Tonight is my big boy's first sleepover at his daddy's. He was so upset this morning- and it broke my heart.  Little baby J is back with me, and has reveled in singleton status, if just for a few hours. The first thing he did was search the house for "brudder". When he didn't find him, he made a beeline to the toys that big brother always hogs. His squeals of glee were hysterical! Dinner, a tubby, and a snuggle later, he's in bed. NOW WHAT? Little J helped me clean up from dinner, so that's done. Toys are picked up, kitchen floor washed. Gifts wrapped. Several gifts sewn. SO NOW WHAT DO I DO???? It's only 7:57 pm. Do I just go to sleep? About twenty minutes ago Mr. J got pretty cranky so I went to check on him. No big deal, blankie overboard. When I returned blankie to the crib I got the standard "Gank you mommy!". Thank you is totally his favorite phrase right now- and I love it. But Mr. J kept talking. "I wub you mommy! Hug?" Um, hell yes. As I sobbed into his luscious little curls, I couldn't believe that my baby was grown up enough to say that. J reminded me of the task at hand, and started fighting his way out of the hug requesting "Cwibbie night night! DOWN!". What can I say, he's a sleeper. That was the highlight of my evening, but remember, it's barely 8 pm. Now what the hell do I do with myself?

Oh wait, I know, glitter everything standing still.

Food, Glorious Food! Thanksgiving Style...

I love to cook. If you asked me five years ago what I would be doing at 2:30 in the morning Thanksgiving day, it WASN'T glazing a turkey and checking on pulled pork. Over the past year, I have been evolving- I am a better mother, daughter, and friend than I was... I get what matters, and have given up trying to expand my circle of control. I can only be who I am, and do what I can. Cooking has been a big part of that. When I couldn't sleep, I experimented with relishes, chutneys, and sauces. When the kids were bouncing off the walls, we baked (little kids are quite good at kneading dough)! As a result, I am a far better chef than I was in the past. Yes, I can still rock out some amazing mac and cheese- with goat cheese and caramelized onions, of course. I still resort to a quick meal for myself- but I can also create masterpieces.

Luckily, I know a lot of people that like good food, and don't have the time or energy to create it themselves. That's where I come in, and how Mama Bee Kitchen Coaching was born. I have SO MUCH FUN teaching other mamas (and a few dads!) some tricks in the kitchen. Now that the holidays are here full force, I am so enjoying being a part of THREE families' Thanksgiving- I make it, they eat it. I am not a "real" caterer- or a "real" chef, but when people want home cooked, they are calling me. The families I am cooking for this Thanksgiving are SO different and it's been a blast developing their menus! Since I love food (have you seen my ass? This is like a DUH statement) I wanted to share the menus with you...

Family One: Pescetarian Delight

Carrot, Sweet Potato and Ginger bisque

Oysters, Shrimp Cocktail, and Hot Crab Dip

Spinach Spoonbread

Roasted Root Vegetables with Cranberries and Walnuts

Mashed Potatoes

Spinach & Strawberry Salad

Roasted Garlic Brussel Sprouts

Balsamic Glazed Salmon

Pumpkin Pie

Pecan Pie

Family Two: Traditions, Traditions!

Brie, Caramelized Onions & Fig Tartlets

Mashed potatoes

Spinach Spoonbread

Squash Casserole

Simon & Garfunkel stuffing: Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme!

Cranberry Orange Relish

Challah turkey

Roasted Sweet Potatoes

Turkey, brined and glazed with a mustard maple sauce

Mustard Maple Reduction 

Traditional Gravy

Asparagus with Balsamic glaze

Coconut Cream Pie

Chocolate Toffee Trifle

Family Three: Down Home, Baby AKA Thanksgiving? How About FOOTBALL?

Onion and Bacon Pinwheels

Brisket Bruschetta

Buffalo Chicken Dip

Spinach Spoonbread

Cornbread

Sweet Potato pudding (savory)

Pulled Pork

Trio of BBQ sauces: Balsamic, North Carolina, and Brown Sugar

Roasted Corn, Peppers, and Tomato salad

Mashed potatoes

Green Bean Casserole

Bacon & Onion Stuffing

Goat Cheese Mac with Caramelized Shallots & Bacon

Pumpkin Pie

Pecan Pie

Grasshopper Pie

So from my multiple families to yours- go play in the kitchen. Experiment! Enjoy the process! Expect to toss ten versions of bread before you hit on the right one. 

And seriously, pass the gravy.

Awesomesauce, and the like...

OK, so I am not completely callous. I am ridiculously thankful for SO much my heart is full to nearly bursting. I am a smidge of a Turkey Day grinch, but I still have a lot of love to give.

So, my yearly "I am thankful for..." list....

1. My dishwasher
2. Meringue powder
3. Delicata squash
4. Curious Kids Childcare
5. My job, at the lovely AVCAS
6. Disney World
7. Wegman's
8. Market Basket
9. My mama gals, the lovely rockin' and shockin'
10. ACM- she's always real, and I love that.
11. Hamilton College- both for the friends it brought me and the doors it opened! Couldn't imagine life right now without my Sara, Quinn, and Ginger.
12. My lawyer
13. 6 Coolidge Circle- for the cozy life I lead here with my boys and for giving me
14. Hannah and Dick next door, AKA Nanny Hanny and Pepe- yes, she hates that it's not "Nana Hannah" but hell, I have little boys- we don't say really anything correctly- the boys adore them, and I ADORE speaking to an adult regularly.
15. Cape May, NJ- just go there. You'll understand.
16. My sense of humor- you have to laugh at yourself or else you are utterly SCREWED.
17. My mom- she's the reason I am who I am. And if I wasn't who I am today, I totally would have failed at life.
18. Being a Baer. We rock. GO TEAM BAER!
19. JB. Because he's JB. No explanation needed.
20. New friends who I feel like have known me for YEARS. Even though she drinks beet juice and is a GASP runner.
21. Messages like this...from a dear friend, who I don't see enough, but who knows my core..."you are one of the fiercest women I know. I can tell how hard things have become but I know you'll come 
through with grace and style." BAHAHA I have everyone fooled! No style here!!!

See? Not a total grinch here! What makes your life most wonderful? Think about it- and then tell them...

Yes, I am thankful...

And no, I'm not boycotting Turkey day, at least, not completely. I am fully prepared to spend the holiday WITHOUT the two things I am most thankful for- M & J. They will be with their father, and yes, I think I can handle it. And by handle it, I mean cater three family meals, bake countless pies, scrub the house, volunteer, and possibly sit down to a turkey sandwich. I have no dearth of invitations- I am certainly not unwelcome, even if I will be alone, by choice. I will have my Thanksgiving- in a week, with my parents, and that's going to be Thanksgiving. I am not constrained by some stupid calendar.

Screw it, I will make my own dang Thanksgiving. I created life, and therefore, I think I can whip up a holiday any freaking day I want.

Tidings of comfort and joy...

Yes, that's a lyric from a Christmas carol. Yes, I am listening to exclusively Christmas music. And yes, I know it is only November. My house is decked out- the tree is up, the mantle is dressed, the garlands are decorated. AND I AM OK WITH THAT. The rest of the world seems to not be though. Frankly, I don't really care. Christmas makes me happy. I like being happy. My boys like being happy too. Our house smells yummy, and is full of happy sounds. I am that person that started decorating for Halloween in September as well. People can bite me. I like Halloween. Why should we only get to enjoy the decorations for a month? I want more! Same with Christmas. As a child, we left our Christmas tree up and decorated for several years, with no interruption. It was comforting. Sometimes I would plug the lights in and do my homework by twinkly light in March. Honestly, I see no reason to confine the joy of Christmas to just one month- why can't we enjoy it longer? The malls are already decorated, and I love it. People just seem nicer. Granted, the whole crazy holiday shopping scene can bite me- no body has time for that- and that's why we have Amazon Prime. It's not about what you buy or give, but the laughter, family time, lights, and happiness of the holidays. So yeah, my house is blinged out. There is glitter floating through the air.

And I am so ok with that, as it really does bring tidings of comfort and joy.

The New Rules

It's no secret I am getting divorced. What is a secret, is like, ummm, everything else. When you are trying to ensure that your children are cared for, protected, and safe- EVERYTHING is a big, fat, secret. Not really, but you really watch what you say to whom, and when. As a result, I have been the anti-blogger. My inner conversation "OOOOOH that would be a great blog post!!!": "Wait, that is PRIVATE.". Yeah, well, I suck at that. Bottom line, Holden Caulfield had it right- whatever comes out of your mouth is really no longer yours.  Lesson learned. But ANYHOO... I can still write about how freakin' adorable my kids are. Mr. M is in Pre-K 1. That basically means he misses the cut off and will spend a year and a half in Pre-K 2. It's cool, he loves it. My kid is going to be SO ready for actual school by the time he goes- he already tells me he's ready for high school and I should drop him at Algonquin. Ummm, no. You're four. They won't wipe your a&% when you don't make it to the potty in time. Oh, and there is no recess. Or snack. Let's conquer Zeh first. Elementary school is first. That said, my little J-Bird is almost TWO. Scary. He acts like he's 20. He picks up the trash, unloads the dishwasher, alerts me to any "yuckies" that might me around (needless to say he spends half his time shouting "YUCKY").  He's also a light sleeper since his surgery this summer. It's a good thing because he can now HEAR and BREATH. But he also now wakes up. I hear him, of course, because even without a monitor, no mother can actually sleep through "Momm-meeeeee I WET! Momm-meeeeeee I want baba! Momm-meeeeeee I need DAT (referring to the boppy he sleeps with, after I pull it out of the crib because I am SURE he would suffocate himself) Momm-meeeeeee bum bum YUCKY".  Seriously. My two year old wakes up, and wakes me up, to alert me of his needs. Bum bum yucky translates, of course, to a poop. Yeah, buddy, deal with it. But no. His "bum bumm YUCKY" and he needs a change NOW. That said, once I actually meet his needs, he shouts "bye bye mama I go baba night night."

Thanks kid. I wasn't sure what to do at two in the morning, other than go night night. Freshie.

On the eve of my 35 birthday...

OK, so maybe it's birthday eve eve, but really, who's counting? I will be thirty-five on Sunday. 35. An age I couldn't even conceptualize as a teenager, and here I am. As I was applying my spackle concealer today I thought "Wow, I never thought I would actually NEED to use concealer". As a list girl, this quickly grew into a list.

Realities that I Never Thought Would Actually Be My Life at 35

I would require concealer to make up for lost sleep.
I would actually be losing sleep.
I would choose being awake in the middle of the night OVER sleep because the house is SO. DAMN. QUIET.
I would go weeks without eating meat.
I would be single.
I would be so tired of "me" time- I love me. I love my time. Kind of over it.
I would be able to crochet a blanket that isn't hideous.
I would be able to actually make a meal with one hand.
I would still sit in the comfy blue chair with unidentified muck on it.
I would have TWO BOYS. Girls, yes. Boys? Uh uh.
I would LOVE having two boys.
I would actually consider ten more minutes of sleep in the morning a bonanza.
That sleeping in is staying in bed until after seven.
I would pack lunches at 5 in the morning and still be able to peel an apple.
I would spend more on babysitters than my haircolor.
I would abandon regular hair color.


There are so many other things, that I am sure will strike me as I stare down middle aged Saturday at midnight...

Fall Flavors Mac and Cheese

So I made a blog on wordpress, for my Mama Bee Kitchen Coaching. Well, it's a PITA. I can't even handle it. I don't know how to share ANYTHING. So I'll force my regular old blog to shift into food world. This recipe is fantastic. Yes, it's finally fall! You might not be thrilled about the cooler temperatures, but I am ecstatic. I LOVE FALL FLAVORS! This hearty mac and cheese captures them all perfectly.

1 lb of small pasta of your choice (I like cavatappi but regular elbow macaroni is fine too!)
3/4 lb sweet Italian sausage browned and drained
1 15 oz can of pumpkin puree
1 cup whipping cream
5 oz fontina cheese
1 cup shredded cheddar
1 cup milk
2 tbsp flour
2 tbsp butter
1 tsp salk
1 tsp pepper
1 tbsp fresh sage or 2 tbsp dried sage
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1/8 tsp cinnamon
1 cup breadcrumbs
i cup parmesan cheese
olive oil
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Cook and drain pasta while you cook the sausage.  In a small bowl, combine the breadcrumbs, parmesan, and enough olive oil to make the mixture crumbly. Set aside. In a medium sauce pan melt butter over medium heat. Add cream and milk and bring to a slow simmer. Add fontina and whisk to melt. Toss shredded cheese with flour in a small bowl until coated. Whisk into cheese mixture. Add pumpkin, nutmeg, cinnamon, and sage. Whisk until smooth and remove from heat. Add sauce and sausage to pasta and mix well. Pour into a buttered baking dish and top with breadcrumb mixture. Pop it in the over for about 25 minutes until golden brown and bubbly. Let sit for ten minutes before serving.

Back, back again (minus yucky twerking)

Yeah, I didn't watch the VMA's, but apparently the Backstreet Boys did some whole reunion thing, so hence the "back, back again" reference. Apparently some Disney chick was grossly inappropriate in her twerking as well. That's ok. I actually had to google "VMA" when I saw it on my newsfeed. I felt like an idiot, but at least then I could recall what it was. Anyhoo, I digress. I haven't wanted to do anything- blog, paint, sew, craft, nor glitter. Nada. Nothing but cook with lots of onions, because then it's socially acceptable to bawl like a baby. Today, however, I felt an inkling of myself. We went to the infamous indoor playground where I always wind up with blog fodder. Today was no different. It's Labor Day- schools are closed, and we had roving thunderstorms plus 99% humidity. Um, yes. Give me indoor air conditioned play. I always get there at the ass crack when it's empty, so it was great. As it started to get crazy, there were lines for some popular attractions, like the massive blow up slide. NBD. Waiting for your turn is a good lesson for everyone (including the parents). There was a young man who ADORED the slide. He would get to the bottom and keep jumping there like it was a bounce house. Sorry buddy, that's ten feet to the left.  He wouldn't exit, but would try to bust back up the ladder to do it again. Sure, that's cool when you own the place, but with ten to twenty kids waiting, that doesn't work. The mom was right there- plus ten points for her (minus 100 for the twits sitting with headphones on ignoring their WAY too old children knocking over countless toddlers- it's cool they eventually got banished by the staff) but she was just smiling and motioning no with a wagging finger. I am sorry, if my kid is getting reprimanded by staff manning an attraction, and making countless sweating, miserable parents scowl even more, I would haul my fat ass up on the slide and pull him off. Turn taking SUCKS- but it's a life lesson. This wasn't like with a toy he wouldn't hand over either- every time he wouldn't vacate the bottom of the slide others were waiting, and some were put at risk by crashing into him as he would move but jump back directly into their path. I finally decided to try my "oh isn't it so hard teaching kids turn taking wise mama" commiseration with her. The first thing she said was, "My son has struggles. Waiting is so hard for him". Ok, I took the bait. (please note- I have done diagnostics in special education for more than ten years- if this kid had any diagnosis it was entitled syndrome- y'know, mom afraid of making a scene? If there was any serious question as to his abilities I NEVER would have said anything) I asked her what his diagnosis was. She said, "oh, he just struggles to wait for what he wants". My response- stone cold- "hunh, so he's four. Like every other kid here waiting his turn." It was probably a bit passive aggressive but seriously, I don't want to be the wake up call for this kid when he waltzes in MY classroom. Never mind the gaggle of children that were there with their one to one aids using alternative communication and struggling A LOT to wait their turn- sorry lady, no pity. Grow a pair and make him wait. NO ONE wants their kid to have a melt down in public, of course. Have I hauled one or more boys out of somewhere kicking and screaming? Oh hell yes I have. Did I get plenty of OHEMGEE DO WE NEED TO CALL DCF stares? Of course. Then there would be the few parents with the shadow clap.

Y'know- the "thanks for actually teaching your kids the world doesn't revolve around them" silent clap. That wink, that nod. OK fine, so maybe it's not usually the waiters responding like that- but the other parents, yeah, they get that. They're also more likely to bring out my leftovers when I drop them on the way.

That moment...

You know, that moment when ALL of your children have blissfully slipped into dreamland? You know it. The BEST MOMENT OF THE DAY. That's not to say you don't enjoy your children immensely, but seriously, this moment ROCKS. For about five minutes, or the length of time it takes for a night terror to set it, is all YOURS. You can talk on the phone. Paint your nails. Eat dinner. Go pee in peace. Take a shower. Return work emails. Do the actual work that has been waiting all day! I listen to Pandora a lot and there is a wine company that has an ad that says "What do YOU do in your Chateau St. Michelle moments?'. Um,  to be brutally honest, my priority isn't wine.

It's shaving my legs so I don't scare the neighbors.

Hello out there?

I work with kids. Primarily, teenagers. I don't work with a "normal" population- I don't LIKE working in a typical setting, with typical kids. I adore my job, but I have noticed a new trend, which kind of irks me. Okay, it really freaking pisses me off. It would be one thing if I was just seeing this in my students, but I am seeing it across the board in the 15-20 year old set of women. When I was a senior in high school my favorite book was Listen Up: Voices from the Next Feminist Generation. Senior year in college, I used Girl Power liberally in my research and it figured prominently in my thesis.I still use excerpts from them both in class. They were published almost twenty and fifteen years ago. That generation is MY generation, and we're a feisty bunch. My contemporary sisters get it done- we aren't letting other people, men or women, dictate the choices we make for ourselves and our families. We may get bogged down, but eventually, we find our way. However, where is the next generation of feminists? These women are smart, talented, athletic- they are reaping the benefits from the women that came before them- but they don't know who they are. Ask a typical 18 year old girl if she knows who Margaret Sanger, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Nellie McClung, Gloria Steinem, Belle Hooks, Naomi Wolf are? Blank stares. It's sad, really. True, it's a generation quick to stand up to human rights- to them, gay people are just regular parts of the world. Gay marriage is a given- and I am glad. However, they seem to have lost sight of the struggles that still face them as women. I see this as a primary failure of the education system as a whole- they have to wait to take American Women's History or Women's Studies courses in college before they are introduced to the concept that they too are empowered. Instead, they have self-doubt, a lack of confidence, and a bare-bones understanding of how to be a strong woman.

"Never apologize, never retract, never explain- get things done and let them howl!"- Nellie McClung, 1915

Maybe...

Does anyone remember the Samples? They were an idie rock band that I think was from Vermont...when I spent a year in boarding school, at Choate Rosemary Hall, they came to campus for a concert. I remember that night, because A) It was a great concert and B) I remember carrying a friend up to the venue piggy back because they hurt their ankle...not totally sure who it was. There is a lyric from a Samples song that resonates with me at this stage of life "Maybe nothing lasts forever, not the mountains or the seas, but the times we had together they will always be with me". I just spent a glorious week in the place that speaks to my heart, Cape May. It's a place that makes me happy and sad all at once- I have memories walking down every street of my grandparents, and the things we used to do. I took the boys on a walk every morning and found myself reciting the same things my grandfather said to me, to them. There is a direct way to the "mall", and yet, I followed the path I took so many times with Pappy- tripping on the same slate sidewalks, telling the same stories. It reminded me that I don't know where my life will go- I may be here in the home I love, working in a school I adore, for the next twenty years. I also don't know who will come into my life- and in the long run, it's those moments and memories together that shape me, and shape the next generation. I can't close myself off to any possibility.

This is comforting, and yet daunting. The true beauty is that I know the moments I spend with my parents, and my boys, will always be with US.

Dear Vacation...

This summer has been ridiculous. I've kicked hubs out. Going through divorce proceeding. Baby J had surgery. I got to spend way too much time at Children's hospital. My boss quit. My house produced enough trash and refuse to fill a dumpster. I built a playroom. I started renovating my soul. My hair is now on it's second stage of serious blonde. Bottom line, it's been quite a summer. Our first vacation had to be cancelled to deal with the after effects of hub removal. J hasn't been able to swim, or play in the water. Work has been all consuming. Well, vacation starts tomorrow at an ungodly hour. We're schlepping to the airport to get on a SPIWIT jet according to Mr. M to go to Lali and Grampy's Garden House. For those not familiar with M's way of labeling, it's the beach house, in Cape May, a teeny tiny city on the southernmost tip of New Jersey. It's a national historic landmark city, and is so far from the Jersey Shore of MTV it's ludicrous. Highest concentration of Michelin stars and tremendous Zagat ratings though- and my favorite place on earth. I love it even more than Disney World. My soul can breathe there. It's whole. There is sun, and boats, and water, and really great hot dogs...and most importantly, Lali and Grampy. Thank goodness because I am putting A LOT of pressure on this vacation. It needs to step up it's game. The boys and I are ready for digging in sand, eating tuna melts pool side, and drippy ice cream cones. We're going on a real live pirate (dolphin & whale watch) ship!!!

But first, I need to wake up at 4:30 am. That's the only rough spot- once that's dealt with, bring on PERFECTION. Or at least, 24 minutes of quiet time on the beach.

That's it! It's time!

TO START HALLOWEEN! Halloween is officially less than three months away, which means it is a socially acceptable time to start creating, RIGHT? I mean, costumes have been in the works for months, but now I can start to get really ready. Glittered pumpkins, witch hats, maybe a few bats? I adore Halloween. Obviously, since I spent countless months of my life working as a costumer, it just fits. I just made a freaking adorable purple. black, and orange glittered "BOO" door hanger. It's my pride and joy, and I can't wait to hang it up. That has to wait until September though, for the record. I can prepare, but I can't decorate quite yet. This year I am having a Monster Mash brunch for J's little pals, and I am SO EXCITED. Can't you tell? I have recipes at the ready, and have been stalking the Market Basket (don't tell Weggie's, but they have better prices on a few things!) circulars and stocking up on the necessities- like purple, black and orange sprinkles. You can't make cookies without them. This year I am also going to have a photo booth with costumey accessories so the munchkins can take silly pictures. Yes, that is what two year olds are into, RIGHT? I think it will be adorable- I am using a wardrobe box with cutouts so the mamas can shoot through with their cameras, and it will have a little sparkly star curtain. Afterwards, I am sure the boys will turn it into a rocket ship or something with less panache. I haven't figured out goodie bags yet- I know it's not a birthday party but I think a little something would be cute...perhaps personalized trick or treat bags? Brunch is in mid-October, so then I will have some time to recharge and gear up for the big day- we have our neighborhood set, and the menu is planned (um, pizza- it's not too hard to figure that out); the orange solo cups are ready for action.

Gah, I read this and realize I might be the biggest wacko out there. It doesn't really matter though, because it's going to be awesome, and everyone who reads this and says "wow, this bird is NUTS" is totally going to go gaga over the photo booth pictures!!!

I just don't know what to with myself...

I just don't know what to do with my time... weird, hunh? These days I feel like I have nothing but time. Mr. M & J have reacted very favorably to the major life change and are playing together better, sharing, helping with chores- my house is organized, happy, and smells good- my fridge is stocked with happy, healthy food- NOW WHAT? The boys finally have a routine that works for us (yeah, falling asleep on the couch works for me for the moment!!!) and I have TIME. I have reupholstered, made new curtains, cleaned, organized, painted, scrubbed, crocheted, needlepointed, baked, and developed a bomb ass recipe for low calorie roasted garlic dip/spread/sauce. Again, NOW WHAT? Granted, in the evening, I'm tied down as I don't think Mr. M is certified as a baby sitter yet. Maybe in a few months, but for now, I'm the adult on call. Even so, I now have four hours a week to do SOMETHING. Granted, it's not usually two full hours as the boys typically arrive home on the early side, or things get cancelled- but it's so much more free time than I have had in the past four years combined, I am at a loss. What now? Seriously, what do I DO? This is not a major problem, of course, and one I am blessed to have. I need to find a hobby that I haven't already mastered, or a place to volunteer. Pinterest is getting tired of me pinning projects and moving them into the completed file. It's frightening how I used to just putz around, watch TV, nap- now every moment I want to maximize.

Except for the moments scrubbing toilets. Those I want to speed up.

Dreams and Aspirations

So my teeny tiny kiddo wants to be a firefighter. Someone (who shall remain nameless) told him he was too small to do it. Grrr. Here comes Mama Baer. Yes, my almost four year old is so skinny I can use his ribs as a xylaphone. He's short too, but so am I. He was really sad and said "but mama, I want to be a fireman so I can help people and be a real superhero! I need to be bigger!". It nearly broke my heart- but then I remembered one of my former students- the nicest kid. Smart, friendly, dedicated- awesome family behind him too. He was certainly not the biggest kid in seventh and eighth grade (yes, I cycled with my kids- had them for 7th and 8th) but was one of the best. I will never forget him, or his family. They were everything a teacher could hope for from a family. Kind, generous, humble, appreciative. I still have the cards that they wrote me when he moved from 7th to 8th, and then "graduated" to high school. Every so often I read them, and it reminds me of why I do what I do. Fast forward ten years. This young man is not only educated, and a graduate, but a real, live, FIREMAN. He posts pictures occasionally of him at work, and I always show Mr. M. He's so impressed. He loves the pictures from the scene, and the firetrucks, and the gear. Whenever he's in a rotten mood I can say, let's go look at x's pictures and he's back-happy and smiling.

It doesn't matter your size, or the expectations thrust upon you- if you have the dream, the dedication- you can do it. My former student is a real, live, superhero according to my son. And I totally agree.

Superheroes & Raging Mama Baer

So my son who is almost four LOVES superheroes. To the point that everyone in the family has a cape, complete with their initials, appliqued on them. Too bad that Edna from the Incredibles thinks that capes are dangerous. Don't care. Love capes. My boy wears his cape regularly, and fairly often to school. At the moment, he is very into Batman and is convinced that he will be Batman when he grows up. WHICH HE WILL. Another little girl said to him today (in front of me) "you can't be Batman when you grow up because he isn't real". Before my Mr. M could lose it I was all "Oh no you are WRONG. Miles CAN be Batman when he grows up if HE WANTS TO BE!" No, I am not delusional. I know that superheroes do not walk among us. However, what do superheroes represent? Someone willing to fight for what is right. Help others. Fight for the underdog. If those are the qualities a superhero needs, then hell yes, my kid will be one.

Step off, three year old girl. Don't go crushing my boy's dreams. Granted, as an adult, I probably could have reacted a bit more maturely.

Creamy Garlic Sauce & Transitions

I know, it's a catchy title, isn't it?? Well, I made some amazing garlic sauce tonight- it's creamy and rich WITHOUT cream. Yes, I am going to share the recipe. Roast about 40 garlic cloves, in olive oil. I roast pre-preeled garlic because I am lazy very busy. Add the garlic and oil to the food processor. Pulse. Add about a third a cup of shaky cheese. Y'know, pasta topper. Puree like hell. Add some fresh or dried rosemary. Puree like hell again. Then eat. It's freaking amazing. LIKE BLOW YOUR MIND AMAZING.

Oh yeah, and I am getting divorced. Any questions?

Acceptance

To be happy is probably the desire of most people- and yet, so many struggle with finding their "true happiness". Honestly, I think that's a load of horseshit. If you can't discover the happiness in your life then you need to re-examine what it is that makes you happy. When I was about 13 I started saying "life is fate, yet even fate is what you make of it." Plato, I was not. What I was, however, was an optimistic kiddo. If you have unrealistic expectations of what your life is going to be, then you might be pretty pissed off. However, if you embrace it, you can find peace and true happiness. My kitchen is rarely clean, my kids don't get tubs everyday, and I am certainly not a painter represented in the National Gallery. That's cool. Dreams change. Realities change. The Jones' keep hiring a new goddamn landscaper, so yes, their grass really is greener. You know what? That is a-ok with me. I love my boys. I love my parents. I love my job. I love my friends. My family might not meet the criteria for acceptance into the Nuclear Family 101 symposium, but really, who gives a rat's rear end? My boys are smart, loving, empathetic, creative, and joyous. I am in the process of finding a balance between "me" and "mom-me". That's all I can ask for.

And I am at peace with that, and accept it for what it is- and am truly thankful and happy.

You say it's your birthday?

I am crazy. I know this. I just finished the invites for the boys' joint birthday party in the end of September. I was pretty psyched, as the goody bags, paper goods, menu, cake ordering, and venue were all already done. The only thing left was the invite, and it was the hardest part. Why, you say? Just tell them where to show up and when!!! Well, the gifts held me up. They have so many toys. More toys than I even knew we owned. I know they will get more over the next three months. They just don't need gifts. So do I go with a "your presence is present enough" tagline? If I leave it off, then they get lots and lots of AWESOME gifts, but they certainly don't NEED them. Then there are people that would still give a gift- and then I struck upon an answer. Um, hello, we donate to Peach's Neet Feet as often as we can, why not provide that as an option? Then the "I must not arrive empty handed" folks feel fulfilled, and I feel great that we are doing something to better society. When my Mr. J was in the Med/Surgical ICU last week, there were several other patients rocking their PNF's. I think it's the most awesome cause out there that addresses the day to day needs of pediatric cancer patients, and kids with terminal conditions. So that's our tagline- "In lieu of gifts, we will be making a donation to Peach's Neet Feet- feel free to join us!"

Really, what our world needs isn't kids that look to their birthdays as a time to get stuff, but as a time to appreciate all that they already have.

Food, glorious food...

So when I started this blog, I was thinking it would be more recipes and such since I'm a serious foodie. However, it morphed in something totally different. That's fine and all, but bottom line, I'm a foodie at heart. GOOD food. Not to say I don't love some Cheetos now and again, but I really like homemade, real ingredient food. Like pesto. JB loves my pesto. He literally will eat it with a spoon which is quite a boost to the home chef's ego. The past week my parents have been visiting to help with the boys, and the surgery, and lots of other things. I am more grateful than I can ever put into words. One thing that I CAN describe though, is the feeling I get when I make a meal for people who truly appreciate it (and clean up afterward)! Last night we had caprese towers over bruschetta, and shrimp, pesto, and roasted tomato fettucini. For dessert, watermelon and pineapple with a lime mint honey reduction. Yum. Tasty. I thought it was yummy, of course, but it was made ten times better feeding it to people that liked it! I love to try new marinades, sauces, and recipes, but without a receptive audience, it's kind of lame. My kids still might be chowing on chicken nuggets, but the rest of us are in foodie heaven!!!

Strength

Strength is a good thing- there's the ability to bench press your weight, of course- or carry two kids up several flights of stairs. There is also emotional strength, and that's a far more difficult thing to build up. We get it from so many different places. I hear the term "inner strength" used quite a bit but even that is a product from others. It's from our education, and knowing that we have the intelligence necessary to maneuver the world. It's from our parents, and knowing that we will always be loved, no matter what we do or say. It's from our friends, who are there next to us in the hard times, saying "You are doing the right thing". It's from our children, who believe we walk on water- and the fear of disappointing them. It can be from the universe- from the people we have loved and lost, and from the beliefs they have instilled in us.

It doesn't matter where it comes from- it just matters that we recognize that we, as women, and as mothers, are stronger than anyone could ever imagine- that we have spines of steel and are ready to fight the good fight- for ourselves, and our children.

I want MORE

I just had dinner. It was three pieces of hot dog. OFF THE FLOOR. Granted, they were organic turkey dogs- but I was struck by the realization that I want MORE. I want to not feel guilty sitting down to a peaceful meal...to not feel like these seconds were enough. Just because I am a mother doesn't mean I get relegated to third place (if I only had one kid, second place). Then I got mad. I want MORE. I want to be strong. I want to be tough. I want to be respected. I want to continue to be independent. I want a lot of things. Thus my bucket list was born.

1. Exercise enough so that I can play tennis with my 60+ mother.
2. Do one of those crazy mud filled obstacle course things without worrying what my ass looks like.
3. Have my family eat the same meal each night.
4. Run one mile. Without stopping, and without dying.
5. Hike at least one small portion of the Appalachian Trail with my Sara.
6. Do the Avon Three Day breast cancer walk.
7. Donate to Locks of Love.
8. Go skydiving.
9. Go parasailing.
10. Show my children the Grand Canyon.
11. Be fiscally responsible enough to take the boys on a European vacation, again, with Sara.
12. Spend a (short!) vacation solo at a resort in the Caribbean.
13. Play golf in a manner that is not super embarassing.
14. Take a train cross country with my mom, JB, and the boys.
15. Go to PEI and be like Anne of Green Gables.
16. Catch a baby.
17. Become an EMT.
18. Learn to sail.
19. Rock climb. Just a small wall, but one with actual rocks not day-glow footholds.
20. Be published, in something, on some topic.

There are more, but these are the things that keep coming up!!! Oh, and eat a dinner off a plate!

Raw Part Deux

So it's no surprise that things here are changing. I wasn't going to blog about it, but really, I blog about everything, so why wouldn't I? My hubs and I have separated, and it's a good thing. I feel like a new woman, and a new mama. I have energy, enthusiasm and optimism again. Those are my staples, so be left without them was just NOT. ME. Where it will wind up? Who really knows. The universe gave me so many signs- and then I finally said the hell with it. There is no lower low, so everything from here must be better than that, right? And it has been. Admitting that I was miserable took every ounce of my energy and pride- and yet, was so rejuvenating. You realize who cares. You learn who truly understands you. You discover the true meaning of both family and friendship. You learn that when someone calls you "independent" it truly is a compliment, even if it wasn't meant that way. You can also be scared, and lonely, and torn, but in the long run, you take that first step forward. Forward to a new you- a new life- a new day.

All American Fun

This past week the boys didn't have school, so we headed to Cape Cod (like every other person in Massachusetts- traffic wasn't pretty!) to see Auntie Sara. Sara is an auntie by love, not by blood- one of my oldest friends from the days on the Hill. She's spent the last three years busting her tushie to get her MSW at Boston University. Thankfully, we all survived! The boys and I were so excited to spend time with her being vacationers- relaxed, sand covered, and happy! The week didn't disappoint- it was hot, sunny, and fully sand covered. We went to the parade in Hyannis, and watched the fireworks from First Street Beach. It was bloody hot as all get hot, which made me a touch miserable- but it was worth it. Pictures speak a thousand words, so here!

I saw the sign...

And it opened up my eyes I saw the sign! Aside from the fact that the Ace of Base is so all done in the music world, have you ever felt like that? That the universe was trying to smack you in the head saying "WAKE THE F&*%& UP! I have sent you everything I can!!!" I don't believe in ghosts. I don't believe in a lot of things, but I DO believe in little messages that say "hey, good job, you're getting it"! That's what my last week has been like. From pulling in to do daycare dropoff and having three domesticated bunnies come nibble at your toes (my sister is a rabbit- long story; and J LOVES rabbits). Getting in the car and having the radio play immediately "I Can See Clearly Now" by Johnny Nash, then Mary J. Blige's "No More Drama" and then, for the kicker, the Beatles double play- "Blackbird" and "Hey Jude"... followed by a day where everything seems to fall in to place? Those are signs. Looking for a spot for keys and randomly plucking a tin where your long dead grandmother has apparently also hidden keys.  No matter where you are, you recognize them.

And then smack yourself in the forehead going "Why did I wait so freaking long?"

If you want to be happy for the rest of your life...

Never make a pretty woman your wife! That's the song that has been stuck in my head over the past few days. Not clear on why, but it makes me want to watch Mermaids, a movie I haven't thought of in years. "So from my personal point of view, get an ugly girl to marry you..." No real words of wisdom there. Happiness has been consuming my thoughts this past week- again, not sure why, but I'm pretty sure that it's because many of my students have been struggling. The end of the year is tough for everyone, but for students that have unsupportive home environments, it's particularly hard. For anyone with depression, finding the joy in everyday life is difficult. That has been brutally clear to me, as I see more and more young people struggling to make it through each day. What makes people happy? How do we find happiness? Is it in single instances that make our hearts' sing? In comfortable silences? I don't have those answers, but it does remind me to find the beauty and joy in simple moments. My kid peed on the potty three times today with NO assistance. That's beautiful. My husband took the boys into the bubble pit at the farm, and loved it. That's beautiful too. My deodorant smells like freaking peppermint patties. Extra beautiful.

But how many of those moments do we need to bring us true happiness?

Damn Ugly Balls

Catchy title, hunh? Well, that's what I am up at 3 am finishing. Some damn ugly oreo balls. Or mint truffles, however you think of them. My boys are moving up. J has had Miss Katie since he was eight months old (he's 20 ish months now) and Miss Frankie since he was 11 months. M has been with Miss Vanessa and Miss Erynn since he was "2.9". You know, that magical age, right before his third birthday. He's nosing 4 pretty much now, so it's been a while. Today's the day. The last day in Wobblers and Preschool. Toddlers and Pre-K are on the horizon. M is excited, but periodically he will cry that he doesn't want to leave Miss Erynn (with YELLOW HAIR MOMMY!) and Miss Vanessa (BROWN!!! It's BROWN!) to go up to Pre-K. He's holding it together because he knows he can peek in the door to Pre-K 2 and see Miss Karen. J is oblivious. He's happy, and lovely, and congested, and just J like. The real issue is me. I dislike change. It sucks. I like what I know, and I love what I know. Not so interested in change, thankyouverymuch. Forget that it means my babies are growing up, or making progress- to me, it's just in the category of unwanted change. Really, isn't that what life is though? Change that we both seek and that which is thrust upon us? Typically for the better? You have to tear up muscles to rebuild them stronger- sand down wood so the connection with paint is better- strip nails of oils to make polish last longer. That's what I feel like tonight. I made the teachers mint truffles, or oreo balls. Easy recipe, but much loved in the halls of CK. Miss Vanessa is a diehard fan who even consumed a few too many right before her wedding. Well ladies, they are some ugly balls tonight. I was straight up ugly crying when I made them thinking about all the things my boys have learned with their precious teachers. Lumpy, miss-shapen. I had to wake up at an ungodly hour and re-temper chocolate because the first batch was a bust. I think they taste better than any other batch though. Perhaps there is a deeper meaning; it's part of a process- we have to have ugly patches to grow stronger.

Or that we shouldn't try to make truffles three days from the end of school whilst ugly-crying.

Who Needs Sleep?

Barenaked Ladies had it right on so many levels! Really, who needs sleep? I DON'T. Which is good, because I'm not getting it. 8:30 to about midnight is wonderful, but then J will start his coughing screaming patches and then I am done. Up, listening to his ragged breathing on the monitor. Tonight I just sat in his room for about an hour watching him breath like Darth Vader. He sounds terrible but his oxygenation levels continue to be fine. It's just an exercise for him to move air past his tonsils and adenoids. We've started a course of antibiotics that he will likely remain on until his surgery. He keeps losing weight- about a half-pound a week. That's a lot when you only clocked in at 21 pounds to start with! I never thought I would be thinking about high-caloric foods for my 19 month old! He's loving the pouches- sucks it right down- the texture is easier for him to get down his throat. I am noticing that he is avoiding foods that require more chewing. Pasta, applesauce, yogurt- his staples. Mr. J LOVES cheese sticks. "Deese" was one of his first words, but right now it's just too hard for him to swallow. He'll chew it for a few moments, and then let it fall from his mouth. That is what is breaking my heart. I know that he will be fine after he recovers from surgery, and will have a long life of "deese", but right now, I just want him to be happy and healthy. I never thought I would be consumed with mitigating his exposure to fragrances, fumes, allergens. Luckily, I'm a Baer. We're fierce, and protect our cubs every step of the way. 

I wouldn't mind if one of those steps included sleeping through the night though- five a.m. comes all too quickly!

Things that rock...

OK I am just brimming with awesomeness tonight. Snort. Not really. I am, however, loving on some of my favorite things. I like making lists so you all can just suffer through my list of "oh my god not sure if you exist but just in case thank you for creating these things",

1. Electrolux Ergorapido. I have the best vacuum ever. It handled CheerioExplosion 2013 with aplomb.
2. My ice pack. It's AMAZING. If I used the phrase "amaze-balls" this would be the time.
3. Cheapo delicious red wine. It's really good and only 17.99 at Weggie's.
4. Blog fabulosity from One Organic Mama.
5. Tomato and roasted garlic jam from yours truly. LOVE.
6. My kids' school. They are freakin' fantastic. Send your kids there. Even if you live in Minnesota.
7. The place that my heart and soul resides, Cape May. You need to go there. LIKE NOW. Get in the car. Go directly to exit zero on the Garden State.
8. Delicious coconut lime candle. It's Ava Anderson, of course, and it DOESN'T GIVE ME A HEADACHE!!! That's huge. More than huge. My kitchen smells yummy and I don't feel sick.
9. The Farm, otherwise known as Davis Farmland. I love it because my kids love it.
10. Um, of course, Rota! Best ice cream. Best meatball sub. Cash only, but that's ok, I love it anyway.
11. Goodness and kindness and love at Kai's Village.
12. My fabulous new perfume, Love. I smell like marshmallows and rainbows, apparently.
13. Volturno Pizza. Obviously. I love them. I love their food. I love their wine. Most importantly, I LOVE THEIR OWNERS.

That's all I have for the night. Theoretically I should go to sleep, but I think I'll vacuum in my beautifully scented kitchen while drinking wine and eating tomato jam, and smelling faintly of marshmallows and rainbows.

Back to selfishness...

So I was raw last night. This morning I am back to selfish old me! Rejoice! No more feelings emanating! Does anyone remember being a wee baby? Probably not- we'd spend too much time in therapy. I know that I used to go on car trips in a playpen in the back of a station wagon. Forget car seats. Now, it's rear facing until at least two, because we just know better. Science and technology have come a long way. Babies sleep on their backs. We don't frolic with asbestos (or maybe you do- but if so, you're on the crazy train!) because we have more information on the dangers that exist. Then there's our household products. I have always HATED bleach because of the smell and the headache I would get. I switched to vinegar based cleansers after I found out my beloved Biokleen wasn't as clean as it pretended to be. I get headaches- scents usually push me over the edge. And then, I discovered that I could have the best of both worlds. Crunchy, happy products that don't send my already airway-compromised toddler into fits (surgery July 17th!) and that smell super yummy. Yes, I have drunk from the fountain of kool aid that is non-toxic personal care products- Ava Anderson. I had a party. I bought stuff. I used stuff. I fell in love with a stripper perfume oil. I wore it for a week. AND I DIDN'T GET A HEADACHE. Sold. In love. J hasn't had a crazy breathing episode. My daycare provider said I smelled like marshmallows and rainbows. That's when I knew- I had to sell this stuff. Mainly because I want MORE and don't want to pay retail. Then I started researching, and found articles like this. Holy shit. I know a ton of wonderful women who have struggled with infertility- to think that body products like sunblock could be affecting them now? CRAY CRAY. So I am officially a crunchy body product junkie. Feel free to love me here and spend your money on lovely pretty yummy things here.

Don't worry. I still drink cheap boxed wine.

Raw me...

OK, so most of the time I'm rather amusing. Sometimes I touch on serious issues. Tonight I'm feeling rather raw, so you might get more of the real me than I usually intend.

I want more babies. Lots of them. I love being pregnant. I love my boys more than anything, but there is always a piece of me desperate for a girl. Yes, I know that if I did have a third the resounding statistics mean I would have a boy. And that would be fine. As more and more of my friends become pregnant (and my joy for them is authentic!) the jealousy grows. I want to be there with them. I enjoyed having parallel pregnancies the first, and second times, so the third? I want to be in that club too. I get angry at the younger me that didn't choose a financially booming field. If I had a fatter paycheck then I could afford to have more babies. If I had started earlier I could have more babies. If I had eaten better, been thinner, been healthier, been smarter, been cuter, been something, then I could have more babies.

It doesn't matter that all of those things probably make no difference. Right now the difference is that I am sad that my kid count will end at two. I just have to reconcile myself to the reality that I have two chances to shape the future for the better. Two chances to raise amazing boys that will one day be fantastic fathers and husbands. I hope I can do that. If I can't, then I have failed on many levels.

Not that a third would change the odds.

I am a selfish bitch.

OK, so my kiddo has tonsils that could eat Manhattan. His adenoids are massive- I kept telling him it was the wrong set of balls to be growing, but he didn't listen. And here I am, his mama, the woman who gave birth to him, and created all these issues in utero, being glad his surgery isn't until after vacation.

Yup, I admit it. His surgery date is July 17th. Solidly in the middle of the month. The next two weeks will BITE. That's summer school though, and there isn't anything fun going on. Yup I am that mom. Totally relieved that we can still celebrate July 4th on the Jersey Shore with my family and best friend. Relieved as hell that it won't take up any of the non-existent sick days I have left (yeah, I actually have .67 sick days left- damn eardrum ruptures!!!). Completely unexcited that our July trip to the beach is probably out (just a hunch that salt water and chlorine are out for a 15 day post-op 20 month old) but REALLY psyched that the August retreat should remain unscathed.

I am horrible. I'm that woman, who secretly is thrilled that her personal needs will still be met. Feel free to call me a bitch, because it isn't anything I am not calling myself.

Holy Tonsils, Batman!

My little J is pretty cute. He does sound like Darth Vader when he's sleeping though. Snores like a mad man. Breathes heavily. I can hear him over the radio in the car most of the time. I always assumed it was because of his permanent runny nose, but right before his 18 month check up his daycare teacher said "you know he has huge tonsils, right?" Um, no, I didn't. I have never really seen them. I know he has teeth because when I tried to check them, he bites me. The pedi agreed- he has huge tonsils, and should see an ENT. I made the appointment for a month later- pretty excited to get in that fast, but then again, it helps to know people! In the month leading up to the appointment I did some research- tonsils tend to be large in small kids, and that's not a bad thing. They also don't like to remove them until they are three, due to the increased risk of bleeding in little ones. I was totally prepared for the docs to take the watch and wait approach. 

Well, I was wrong. Chest & neck x-rays showed that his tonsils and adenoids are so large his airway is almost totally blocked. 

Then they thought he should have his hearing tested, as there was some fluid present during the visual exam. Sure, ok, but wasn't I here for tonsils? J was a champ during the hearing test, which wasn't surprising looking back, because he CAN'T HEAR! His eardrums don't move- due to fluid- and his hearing loss is moderate to severe. Um WHAT? He's only had five ear infections, and hasn't even qualified for TUBES, let alone enough to indicate a hearing test. The good Dr. McGill theorized that sweet baby J has had MANY more infections than we even knew- because ears don't get that crappy with just five infections. Mommy FAIL.

End result? J needs to have a tonsillectomy & adenoidectomy, his eustachian tubes cleaned out, and tubes inserted. Oh wait, he's so young- this will all be inpatient, at Children's Hospital Boston, resulting in 24-48 hours in the ICU and then two weeks of recovery at home. Oy. I have to wonder if the sunscreen I have been slathering on both my kids for years has something to do with all this airway stuff. I mean, really, it's a seven on the EWG Skin Deep database. That's some scary shit. Granted, I drank the Kool Aid and now don't buy any cleaning or skin care product without checking them out here. 

At least there's a Boloco across the street from Children's. I'll eat well, and J can have some rockin' smoothies...

Germs are pretty rockin'

So yes, I went strawberry picking the other day. It was awesome. What wasn't awesome was watching a daddy take out a bottle of water and wash every strawberry his kid tried to eat from the vine. And then he pulled out freakin' alcohol hand sanitizer and sanitized the maybe 18 month old kids hands after each berry. Really? That's ridiculous. I have seen mamas use that stuff on their babies' BINKIES before. Ummm, do you know what is in that shit? Triclosan, and some other stuff. Look it up on the EWG Skin Deep website. It ain't pretty. How is having that in your kids system better than some germs? Last time I checked, some germs are good for you- kids that live in bubbles don't develop rockin' immune systems. Not to say they never get sick, because that's inevitable. If I have to choose between ethyl alcohol, triclosan, isopropyl alcohol, ethylene glycol, isopropral myristate, and "carbomer fragrance" and dirt? I pick dirt. My kids were sick as dogs this past winter- fevers that hit 106.1 and 105.7 respectfully. Initially, I FREAKED out. Went to the ER and everything. You know what? They can't DO anything. Yes, I could give Advil- but really, unless your kid is miserable, it's not worth it. Fevers mean their immune systems are WORKING. Brain damage doesn't result from the fever, it comes from some of the more horrendous sicknesses, like meningitis, that cause such fever. If they have the regular old flu, the fever isn't going to do jack other than increase wine sales (for the mommies, obviously- if Sauvignon Blanc cured fevers that would be an added bonus!) I am far from crunchy, but even I refrained from excessive baby ibuprofen use during the sick times. It was hard, but worth it.

Don't even get me started on sunblock. Some of that shit is scary as hell.

The zen of floor washing...

So my hubs is a good man- he runs a restaurant and works his tail off. As a result, he's not home a lot when we are all awake. Sometimes I am barely conscious when he walks in. However, yesterday, he was home by FIVE PM. On a Saturday! It was pretty cool. The kids got all settled, and I started my nightly routine. You know, dishes, sweep, etc. My boys are messy as all get out so there is a steam mop session in there too. Hubs was hanging out in the family room with a sleeping toddler on his belly and I started the clean up. First is the family room- pick up toys, etc. Nothing terrible exciting. Then it's time for the floor in the family room. Spray bottle of water and vinegar, and my crunchy lovely flannel cloths. You know, to get the serious gook off- the places where a drop of juice spilled and then five hundred people walked over it, tracking ickies everywhere. My hubs just kept staring at me. Finally he asked me what I was doing- I explained "Ummm, duh, I am cleaning our floors." He was incredulous. "You clean the family room floors? I mean, I know you do the kitchen, but the family room?" What, does he think we have an effing house elf hiding somewhere? Trust me, if we did, I'd be sitting on my ever expanding ass drinking a glass of wine (or coffee if it's before noon four pm) and pointing out shit for Dobbie the house elf to scrub. It just cracked the hell out of me. It's a man thing. They have no freaking clue what mommies really do- even the super involved ones. Tonight Mr. M was rockin' the no diaper scene due to a nasty rash, and he peed on the floor. No big. Daddy FREAKED out and was running around the house looking for gloves or the house elf or something. Maybe Xanax. By the time he got back, it was obviously gone (that spray bottle of vinegar is never far!) and he was like "IT'S MAGIC!!!" Yeah honey. It's the magic of mommies.

Good thing he wasn't here when "someone" pooped on the floor.

Strawberry picking, OCD style

Today I took the boys strawberry picking. Yes, it was voluntary. I took the boys outside in the SUN to forage for something I can buy for 2.99 a pound at Weggie's. Much to my surprise, I LOVED IT. The boys were pretty good at it, and J cruised up and down row after row, picking the PERFECT ones. And then shoving them in his mouth, stem first. Somehow the only thing that would get spit back out was the green. He's a pro. Mr. M was into carrying the bucket for the yucky ones. No shock there, Mr. I like gross things like SNAKES. Eeew. He is so not my child. As for me, I crawled, on my hands and knees in the DIRT. Real dirt too. Not the nice clean dirt I buy at Home Depot. This was a FARM. With DIRT. And probably BUGS (which I tried not to think about). However, I am a wee smidge of a control freak (which honestly comes as a surprise to me, but earlier this week when I was overseeing my corsage making sweatshop workshop with my colleagues, it was pointed out to me as I made someone re-wrap the stem five times) and finding the perfect clusters of ripe berries was my cup of tea. Orderly, systematic, YES PLEASE. The only thing that would have made it the ultimate zen retreat would have been one of those I-exercise-water-backpacks filled with Sauvignon Blanc. You know, the ones that came in so handy in college for morningtails? (Everyone around the country reading this is like, um, WTF are morningtails? If you're a Hamilton alum, you get it, and probably own two of those thingies- one for beer and one for screwdrivers) We picked for almost two hours and when the boys finally started to lose their cool after being treated like migrant pickers (THAT ONE! Get THAT one! No! That one is no good! THERE! THERE! GET THOSE!!!!!) it was time to go. (Sidebar: I know that "migrant pickers" can be a loaded term. I fully stand behind the rights of all workers to have a fair work environment with Blue Cross/Blue Shield and a living wage whether they choose to be called itinerant farmers or whatnot) It was a great morning, and I have the farmer's tan to prove it!

But now what the hell do I do with the 19 pounds of strawberries? Ugh.

Yeah, I am so that mom...

So I love this indoor playground place. It's air conditioned, has wi-fi, and couches. I sit my ass down and relax. The kids run amuck and have a great time. If they can't do something by themselves, then they shouldn't do it. I don't need to coddle them. Little Mr. J can already climb the gigantic inflatable slide and throw himself down because he got tired of waiting for mommy to do it with him. I was so excited when they offered an unlimited play pass for the summer months because I do NOT like to sweat. I do take the boys to the "Farmland" but there's a splash park there- we splash and play in the water, say hi to a goat or two, and then go get ice cream. Perfect. I'll go to the playground, sure. At 7 am or the spring or fall. Summer? No fricken' way. So this play pass was an excellent investment. Let the other suckers go sweat while I troll Pinterest for another decadent recipe. This morning it was madness. There was a birthday party at 8 am (ok, that's nuts- our birthday party is scheduled for 10 am and that still might be too early for some of our friends!!) and it was rainy. Thus, oodles of small children. And lots and lots of helicopter parents. I was still doing my sit on the couch routine but I kept having to go intervene- not because my kids couldn't do something, but because there was a real problem with turn taking going on up in that place. Yeah, kids have favorites. That's not justification for a kids taking 19 turns on the roller coaster (um, I counted- I could see it from my comfy chair) while there was an ever growing line of anxious, excited small ones. My small one was next in line, and after turn 12 or so, he finally just started crying. Not because he wasn't getting a turn- but because he couldn't figure out why the little kid on it didn't understand sharing. I felt HORRIBLE. Mr. M was just bereft with grief and I was about ready to rip that effing car out from under the roller coaster hog, when I noticed that his mother was a helicopter. Three feet away. "Good job buddy! Wahoo! Nice!" Um, how about "There is a line, your turn is done!". That stupid cow pretended to be completely oblivious to the kids, and now frustrated parents, waiting in line. I am (not) a patient person, but I couldn't stand it anymore. I sidled up to the mom and started with the gee isn't this a great activity talk, and she agreed. "My son only likes this, and it's why we come!".  I pointed out the line as her kid took his now 22nd turn, and she was unmoved. "But he's having such a good time!". That's when I decided to point out that it was great he was having fun by himself because he would never have friends if he didn't learn to share. Oh, and that she could buy him the same toy on Amazon for less than ten visits to the indoor playground. She said nothing, but got that stink face. And that's when I hightailed it to the damn roller coaster car when it rolled away from her kid and took it. Mr. M took his turn and promptly passed it to the next rider. Her kid threw a massive tantrum and they left. Heaven help me if they are from our town (which I don't think they are because I am pretty sure the moms at the (sweaty) local playground wouldn't tolerate that shit either). I recounted the story to a friend and they were very concerned that maybe the child had developmental issues, etc. OK, sure. However, pretty sure turn taking is one of those little life lessons we focus on teaching pretty early, even for kids with different learning challenges.

Bottom line? I'm a mama bear, and don't mess with my kid if he's playing fair!

Today is Why I Teach

Today was graduation. Yes, at 11 am. No, we didn't have caps and gowns. There was no orchestra playing pomp and circumstance. No silly string, beach balls, or balloons. Just parents, graduates, teachers, social workers, and the other 40 or so students in the school. Oh, and there was cake, and corsages. Honestly? It didn't matter that it wasn't as formal as graduations typically are. What matters is that I had TEN KIDS graduate. Kids that it took five and a half years to graduate. Kids who are in DCF custody, kids that have struggled EVERY. STEP. Nothing came easy to the class of 2013. There were learning issues, mental health issues, family issues, school issues. Three students stood up and gave speeches. I bawled through every one. They said they thought they would drop out. Work at McD's. Be homeless. And yet, they all got to finish with the most important line; "I DID IT. I GRADUATED!" The pride in our gymnasium was palpable. Many of the staff were in tears, and many of the students. No matter what path you take to climb the mountain, when you are at the pinnacle, the view is the same.

And this is why I teach. Why I work with the kids that I do. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Who's Got Spirit?

Ok, so we are heading into my favorite week (fine, one of two weeks) of the year. It's SPIRIT WEEK at school. We have one in the fall, and have theme dress days and such, and it's awesome. If there was Halloween every month I would be thrilled. I love costumes and the like (no surprise as I worked as a costumer for more than a few years for a public school system and the renowned Weston Drama Workshop). I think it's so much fun to put on some crazy things and head off into the wild. If you know me in real life you are not at all surprised at this. My favorite part of high school was the musical matinee day, where we did the show for the elementary school kids (or old people- I can't remember) during our academic day. I got out of my classes, got to ride to school with hot rollers in, and putz about in stage makeup after we were done. A win-win. Fast forward three million years, to spirit week. It's a week in schools where we have silly dress days and what-not. Well, that wasn't enough for cuckoo bird me. I had to take it up a (more than one!) notch. It's now COLOR COMPETITION. Because the word "war" just has too much negativity for me. Yeah, we have theme days, field day, bake-offs, door decorating, and scavenger hunts (which include me getting glitter bombed. Oh, how sad. NOT).  I have been planning with a core group of students for MONTHS. Most of my co-workers are thankfully good sports, as our team names are sort of odd. We are pretty competitive, so I know my dear friend, Mrs. Math Teacher, was thrilled that her team chose "Sargeant Hatred and the Carnivorous Lizards" as their moniker. It's cool though, I am the captain of the "Pink Pegasisters and the FIVE GUYS" (there are five boys/men on my team, and then a whole lot o' teenage girls). Bottom line? I work in an alternative school where every kid is from a different sending district, and they have one foot in their local schools but most of their body in mine. That's hard. It's tough to build a sense of camaraderie, and ownership, with so many fragmented youth. Yes, I work with a marginalized population. I wouldn't actually want it any other way. I think my students rock. And I think my colleagues might just rock a little bit more. Work is tough, but SO rewarding. That being said, we work just a wee bit harder to unify our students and staff. That's why I have put so much effort and time into color competition. This week it's going to be a lot of fun too. Tomorrow is cartoon character day, and I could have just worn a shirt with Mickey on it (um, that's not hard I have a billion) but I have gone all out. Full Minnie costume, complete with scads of ruffles, and pink bows. I even made Minnie shoes. I spent HOURS on it. And I can't wait to go to work tomorrow looking foolish  awesome!

Even better? I have a dentist appointment right after school. There will be no changing.

Some Mother's Day Tips for the Daddies

Yay! This past Sunday was Mother's Day! My day was lovely, but in general, there are some daddies in the world that might need a little coaching. I know there are moms out there that logged onto Facebook Sunday and were mighty jealous of some of the pampering and awesomeness that their friends were experiencing. It's ok. It happens.

So in that vein-
ATTENTION ALL DADDIES!

Mother's Day is a big f'ing deal. Do not even TRY to do the following:

• Take your wife to any event that involves your mother. Spending time with the mother in law is lovely, but she's not your wife's mother. Got it? Spoil your mom. Send her flowers. Take her to dinner. SATURDAY. Not Sunday.
• Play it by ear. Nope. Sorry, plan ahead. Reservations, flowers, cards. These need to be evident immediately upon waking, especially if sleeping in and breakfast in bed are not on the docket. Got it?
• Pretend that you will take over all household & childcare duties for the entire day. It's just impossible, and if your wife is anything like me (a slight control freak, but just slightly) that would just make her insane, because you are probably doing it wrong. The kids would be fine, of course, but perhaps covered in glue.

Assume that the handmade gifts the children produced in school/daycare/Sunday School will suffice. Nope. You still have to have something at the ready. Get out your glue gun. You can do it.

Now, with gifts you need to be savvy. Jewelry is great (as long as it's not ass ugly) and flowers a super bonus.

GOOD: Flowers, card, breakfast in bed, and a gift certificate for a massage/manicure/pedicure
BETTER: All of the above plus precious gems. Preferably diamonds. Or the kids' birthstones. Mommies eat that up.
BEST: Collaborate with the other daddies, and rent your wife and her mama friends a limo and send them to a winery.

Mmmkay?

Teachers...

Yeah, it's national teacher appreciation week. Teachers rock. Enough said. I am a teacher, but I teach high school. By the time I get kids, the ship has partially sailed. They have skills, they know things, they can read, and write, and add up sums. Am I important? Of course. Working in the field of special education, I know that I make a difference each and every day. However, in my eyes, I'm a failure. As a mother, the most important teaching I SHOULD be doing is with my own boys. And I can't, because I go to work every day to work with other kids. I am fine with that at this point, because I love what I do. My kids get to benefit in many way- including having teachers of their own at a very young age. Criticize if you'd like, but M has been in daycare since he was six weeks old, and J since eight weeks of age. You know what? That's a-OK with me- because they are SMART. J can sign his wants and needs, and one of his first spoken words was one of his teachers' names. M can tell me about feelings, dinosaurs, the weather, and other such interesting tidbits- because of his dedicated, creative, loving teachers. It's not all sunshine and rainbows- M has his bad days, where he trashes the sand castles his friends have lovingly created; or moments where he sasses his teachers when faced with a lunch box of GASP! FISH STICKS (in our house we call them chicken sticks- whatever gets them in his belly!!!) but he also has a tremendous amount of good days, where he learns so much. He's proud of what he accomplishes, and excited to share it with me. J does amazing art and comes home regularly with blue feet because he's been painting. That's what I want my kids to do. I am thrilled at the experience they are getting, and know that EVERY teacher loves my boys. It feels wonderful to know they are so lucky.

My kids are curious. And that's why I love Curious Kids.

I am from Boston.

Yes, I am from from Boston. Jersey girl born and raised, but I am a transplant, and this is my home. Obviously, you can't read, listen, or watch anything without hearing about the city. It's impossible. I am what so many other Bostonians are- shocked, confused, and really freaking angry. I am ridiculously thankful that all of my friends are present and accounted for- albeit very, very impacted. My nearest and dearest was in the Lenox Hotel bathroom, and texted me immediately. "There was a bomb but I am OK." My return text was asinine- "Like a glitter bomb? That's so cool!" (it hadn't even hit the news yet) and she was like, um, no, an actual explosive device. Oy. That's when the world went a little sideways and it was auto pilot. Call husband (working on race route); call parents to reassure safety; drive like hell to get kids from school; rush home to never, ever, leave again. Yeah, well, that's not reasonable. That's what I WANT to do, but not what I WILL do. I am avoiding the gratuitous news coverage, and am sticking to NPR for information. Of course, I can't avoid social media and won't even try. What gets to me is the pictures of Yankee Stadium, or the cartoon from the New Yorker. Buckets of tears. If anyone gets the way a Bostonian feels right now, it's a New Yorker. That breaks my heart. I am so thankful for the "helper trucks"- doctors, nurses, EMT's, veterans, runners, walkers. We are all trying to be helpers in our own way.

Really though? It makes me really f'ing angry. I want to wear Patriots, Celtics, Red Sox and Bruins jerseys all at once, while running (ha, um moseying) the marathon while doing a St. Paddy's Day pub crawl, eating lobster rolls and drinking Sam Adams. I want to smother myself in Boston stereotypes. I want to ride the duck tours, and go to the science museum, and walk the Freedom Trail, and nibble my way through Fanuil Hall. Not right now though. Right now I want to cry over lost innocence, and snuggle my boys.

Feelin' Groovy

So it's been QUITE a week. In short, I perforated both of my eardrums, have raging middle ear infections, and labyrinthitis. Yeah. It's ugly. I have had blood and pus dripping from both ears for almost a week now and it's still going strong. I don't think I have EVER felt so miserable. Sick enough to not even feel guilty calling out of work TWO days in a row. That's unheard of for me! Luckily, it's vacation week for ME next week so if I feel yucky I won't have to call out. Which is good, I have exactly .37 sick days left. That's not even an hour! Yes, My kids are going to school, every single day. Mamas need time too! I am going to get my hair done Monday morning, and hopefully spend a tremendous amount of time in the yard, especially in the "cage" (AKA fenced in toddler safe area). M calls it his "garden". It's pretty tricked out- picnic table, sandbox, cars, and even a mini slide. After Monday, however, it will be home to a climber AND a real slide! If you see me driving through town with a huge Little Tykes cube on my roof, make sure to wave! So far it has been a lot of raking and stick collecting. M is pretty good at that part, except he gets upset when we have to dump them in the woods. He wants to keep them in his garden, which is so not the point. I have raked out all the beds (and just made oodles of unsightly piles) ready to do some planting and pruning. I say that now- I foresee some TV watching too. I am also going to move all my craft stuff down to the office and move all the "extra" toys upstairs. After next weekend, the boys will have an actual play room! Really, it's for M to have some independence playing upstairs, since when he and J are on the loose together it never ends well. They love each other fiercely but need their own time! So I am feeling good- there's a sitter over right now digging in the sandbox while I "work" inside. And Daddy is home for dinner tonight (WAHOO!!!) and he even said we might GO OUT TO DINNER! Double wahoo!

I'm gearing up for a productive week. Honestly, not being able to hear might be to my advantage because I can't take on any extra duties if I can't hear them :)

Oh no he didn't!

So my kid threw sand today. At one of his friends. Now, what the hell do you do? It was at school so obviously I didn't do anything. His teacher did- she pulled him aside and talked to him about it. At first, like Mr. M has the tendency to do, he laughed, giggled, and pulled the cute schtick. And then got a little verklempt. A few tears. As well he should. I was not happy at pick up to learn he was unkind to others, but hell, he's three. This shit happens. I was incredible please with how they handled it. C'mon, it's so hard to reprimand your own kid. They do this cute thing and you're done. Kudos to preschool teachers unswayed by adorableness. That's exactly how I want my kids' preschool teachers to be. We watched the movie "Bully" in Psychology today and it breaks my heart- how can children get to middle school aged without knowing right from wrong? And then I remembered my own kids- we can be blinded by our unbridled love for them. In that sense, I am so grateful that I am not their only teacher of they way they need to navigate the world!!!

Really, if the preschool teachers could just move in with me, I'd appreciate it.

More thinking...

Really, I shouldn't think. It stresses me out. My thoughts for the day.

1. As much as Prius' make me giggle, smart cars make me out and out guffaw.
2. Tye-dye is a PITA. My students love it though- my purple hands? Totally different story.
3. Homemade ricotta with pistachio pesto is a food-gasm if I have ever had one. Mmmm.
4. Leaves are the devil spawn, and I hate them.
5. I love rainbow colored things. It's just an added bonus that the rainbow has been embraced by the GLBT population. Anything Roy G. Biv makes me happy. Especially Adirondack chairs.
6. My floor is still sticky. It's still not OK. That said, there is NOTHING I can do about it at the present moment. Maybe when the kids are 18. Or can mop it themselves.
7. Tomorrow is Easter. That is fun. Who cares what the calendar says? I wanna celebrate holidays multiple times with multiple groups of people.
8. Knees are ridiculous. There is just no one answer for why a person's knee hurts so badly. Dr. Google just isn't specific enough.
9. Bacon should be it's own delicious food group. And should take over the plate in that little healthy food diagram.

That's all I've got.

Under Pressure

Under Pressure- it's a great song all right, but it's a crap way to live. That's the way I feel a lot of moms feel in this day and age though. There have been some very public moms struggling with substance abuse and the like (have you read Sippy Cups are Not for Chardonnay? Indeed, they are not- but the author famously struggled with alcoholism and is in recovery). Katie Couric recently spotlighted moms with these struggles and it was well done. It's amazing how quickly we can so oh my goodness how could that happen? and then turn around and pour a glass of merlot. Yes, alcoholism is a real problem for millions of people every day. Moms are definitely a subset of them.

Me? No. Do I enjoy a glass of wine? OF COURSE. Have you met me? Yes, yes I do. But there is a real difference. I enjoy a glass (or two- or in a few instances, three) when I am with my husband. Or with my parents. I could never justify that when I am ALONE with the children. Alcohol impairs your judgement. What if a child fell and needed to go to the hospital? What if there was an emergency? You can't take those risks as a parent, and honestly, as a mom. That said, I'm not at all surprised. Being a mom is incredibly lonely. You can have tons of friends and a lively social circle, but that doesn't matter when it's 4 am and you woke up to unload the dishwasher and pack lunches. Where are your friends at 7 pm when you are exhausted and mentally drained from the day? Um, they are in their houses doing the same thing you are. Kids need structure and routine. And yes, they need it in their own house. That's the part of mothering that is so isolating. It doesn't matter what kind of a situation you are in- single, lesbian, divorced, married happily- it is impossible to truly have a balance. It's the moms that kids cry out for in the middle of the night when they pee through their jammies- it's the moms that little ones scream for at the slightest inkling of sibling discord. It's certainly not saying that daddies aren't important, but they aren't the central figure of small children's lives, for the most part. Obviously, there are situations where this is blatantly not the fact. However, in my world, and that of most of my contemporaries, it's not the way it rolls. And that, my friend, is a lot of freaking pressure. We can pretend that it doesn't matter how clean our house is, that we are busy making memories, but it does. I think every mom gets down on herself at some point or another. Me? My laundry is clean but stacked in various places around the house. My work stays at work for the most part, but I am on the ball every minute I am in work, and sometimes it isn't enough. My floors are sticky, but it makes me INSANE. (ok, right now they aren't. We spilled juice so they are squeaking clean at the moment out of necessity.) Yeah, it's not easy being green a mom. That's why it's so very important to have sisters alongside of us. Whether in real life, or on line. Maybe it's an hour of therapy a week, or an hour a year. A pedicure every six months. We NEED those few stolen moments for ourselves. The silence that is still constantly interrupted by the phone, or niggling worries about our spawn. That's enough sometimes. When it isn't? Yeah, a glass of wine is great. Or a cheesy pizza. Or a birthday cake Oreo. Everyone has something. And it's really important that it isn't one thing to excess. That's when moms run into trouble.

And when that happens? We can't judge, we can just love them for being human. We're ALL under pressure, and it's the best, and worst, place to be. Wouldn't trade it for the world, but some days, it really just sucks. And that's ok. It doesn't make us less as mothers. It makes us normal.

Nom nom nom

OK, so if you know me at all you know that I am kind of snarky, have two kids, am a teacher, and that I really like food. Good food, not just crap off the shelves (unless it is Birthday Cake Oreos- those are insanely delicious and should not exist at all). I love the rigamarole of fancy food, and love dining out as much as possible. Yes the children have put a damper on that, but occasionally I find a restaurant that fills my needs AND their needs. In the name of full disclosure, I am about to spew compliments about a restaurant owned by my dear friends. Yes, it's fantastic. Yes, it's "fancy", but yes, it's also kid friendly. My friends opened a restaurant in Worcester called Volturno- Pizza Napoletana (and I am not Italian so I will definitely screw something up here). They have wood-fired pizza ovens that can cook a pizza in 90 seconds. And it's AMAZING. My kids love it. Mr. M calls crust "logs" and typically will toss them in the garbage, but tonight he ate his pizza (fior de latte- basically mozzarella & sauce) and then proceeded to pull the "logs" off of my pizza, the funghi. Yeah, that's mushrooms with goat cheese, and a bunch of other delicious cheeses, on an olive oil base- no sauce. I had it for the first time tonight, and I took a bite- and groaned in disbelief. Those wonderful little mushrooms had been misted/soaked/brushed with a lemon oil. Yeah. It was amazing. It was like that little bit of acidity woke up the earthy little funghi with some freakin' fireworks. Really, who thinks of that? I was over the moon. Never mind the fantastic arancini made with porcini mushrooms- this was off the charts delicious. So go eat there people. It's delicious. And bring your kids. They will love it too!

Did I mention there are massive windows so your small ones can stare at the cars/trains/people and pretty much leave you alone to enjoy an adult meal? That MIGHT be almost as good as my pizza.