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.