We are home.

It seems like only a few days ago that I typed those very same words after spring break.  In fact, it was only a little over two months ago, so it seems that this trip came about rather quickly after the last.  But this trip was different.  Our entire crew didn’t go.  Why?  Well, this was a “throw-back” vacation.  A trip that took us back in time to when our family was a smaller version of the crew we have now.  Drew chose the destination (his graduation gift).  When he chose Oregon, we were flummoxed.  Nevertheless, we agreed.  When he told us he wanted to leave the girls at home, we understood.  This was going to be an adventure to the Pacific northwest.  Strollers, car seats, naps and baby food wouldn’t be feasible.S0, a small army of baby sitters were booked, long lists of schedules were written down, and a grown up vacation was planned…for the four of us.

As soon as we set out for our Oregonian trek–and yes…it’s Oregonian.  I googled it–I had flash backs to trips from many moons ago.  The boys are well traveled because during their younger years I didn’t like to leave them behind.  My struggle with full-time-working-mom-guilt ensured that Drew and Ryan almost always accompanied us on our adventures.

When I think back to those years I realize we were a very happy family of four.  We were also neat, compact and very, very mobile.  Packing, schlepping and adventuring were easier back then. That being said, I can also say that during those years I knew in my heart that ourfamily of four wasn’t going to be it.  I swear there were three little souls haunting me back then and I knew it.

Of course, our journey to our daughters has impacted our sons.  Vacations, along with every other aspects of our lives, have grown more complicated.  I’d be lying if I didn’t admit there is guilt in that  (I know, I know.  I’m a mother.  There’s guilt in everything.)  So, when Drew asked for an adventure  sans little kids we “got” where the request was coming from.

Drew chose Oregon for one reason.  Running.  He’s a running junkie and the University of Oregon is considered the holy grail of the running world.  Eugene, home of the University of Oregon and the famous Hayward Field, was our first stop.  I admit… at the time I kind of didn’t get it.  I still don’t, but that doesn’t matter.  The look of thrill in the eyes of my boys as they ran the infamous track, met a handful of NCAA running champs, hung out with an Olympic coach and shot the breeze with a US record holder spoke volumes.  Of course the pilgrimage to Pre’s Rock capped off a day for my running junkies which brought a feeling of satisfaction to me.  Running is their passion and it’s a good one.  They are happy…so I’m happy.

After we had exhausted Eugene, we headed to the coast of Oregon.  To call what we saw ‘heavenly sites’ doesn’t seem to capture the essence of this part of our country.   Turns out the Oregon coast is an  underrated destination.  Sand dunes that make Michigan’s dunes look like kiddie hills; inland lakes that scatter the coast; trails that meander through moss covered tree lined forests; picnics lake side…and ocean side;  sunsets and breathtaking Pacific views were bountiful as we made our way up from Florence to Yachats.

And…since this is my space…I must show you my riding props.  Check this out…

Of course, with all of this adventure seeking, we managed to work up an appetite which of course brought me to my favorite time of the day.  Meal time.  It wasn’t so much the food that made our time at the table so special.  Instead it was the conversation.  Debates and laughter were sprinkled throughout our sacred feasts in which glimpses of the adults our boys are becoming shone through brightly.  Of course, there were impatient moments amongst us.  Ryan is bull headed.  Sean is stubborn, too.  I am a clock-head that doesn’t do well if we are off schedule, and Drew is laid back…sometimes too laid back.  So…yes… there was bickering.   But whatever the controversy was the mood always managed to swing back to a comfortable, happy place.

This is our family and as it turns out we all kind of like each other.

To call the Oregon coast a place of relaxation doesn’t seem to do it justice.  Just take a look at this… (30 seconds…come on…you have time)…

The five nights we were away flew by in an instant.  It was such a wonderful trip.  We are already planning our next get-away for Ry’s graduation year.  I asked him if MK would be allowed to go.  He said he’d think about it, but probably…yes.  He’s a softie that one.  I wonder where he gets it?

So, now we are home.  As we entered the kitchen and our daughters ran to the closest one of us for hugs, my heart was filled with satisfaction.  Yes, our trip with just the four of us was precious, but returning to the love of our seven is a treasure.  I’m thankful for the time we spent together this past week.  I’m even more thankful to return home to our whole crew.  Nothing is greater than walking through the  door to shrieks of joy from our three little miracles.

Now onward.

It’s official.

School is out for everyone in our clan, and SUMMER. IS.ON!

Every spring I fantasize about all of the fun memories we will create over the  upcoming summer.  I think that activity helps me limp through the last few weeks of school.  (And when I say limp…I mean barely making it happen.)  I have high hopes for day excursions, a few vacations, educational activities, and plane old back yard fun.  My intentions are noble.  Unfortunately, they often get lost in a mixture of laziness and busy-ness and before I know it, it’s mid-August and back-to-school is looming like a dark cloud of regretful doom.

So…knowing myself the way I do, this year I’m going to tackle this whole summer bucket list with a few guarantees.  Meaning, two things.  First, I’m making a list.  I find that if I write tasks down, my ADHD is less likely to kick in and I can stay focused.  In addition, I’m publicizing my intentions which engages that whole “woman-of-her-word” ultimately upping  my chances that  I will accomplish my mission.

So…here it is…

Summer 2013 Bucket List

• Water balloons.  Somewhere…sometime…with all five of my kids.
• Toledo Zoo (The twins are going even if it kills me.)
• Sand Castles decorated with Pacific shells and Lake Michigan stones.
• Cedar Point with Ryan.  (Drew hates rides.)
• Picnic at the park with the girls.  (Going to make it to at least three metro-parks.)
• Pontoon boat ride. (If you have a cottage…we accept the invitation.)
• Sparklers with Mary Kate
• Sushi with Drew (I hate Sushi.  Drew loves it and he’s leaving…so…I feel compelled.)
• Host girls night at our house.
• Visit my cousins in Indiana
• Get the twins to Jennifer…twice.
• See Logan  (Totally out of my control, but I think it’ll happen.)
• Cookout with Drew’s grade school friend’s parents.
• Read four books before MK starts school.  (Suggestions are welcome.)
• Teach Mary Kate to swim the length of the pool.

Things I’m Looking Forward Too…

• Trip to Oregon with my three boys.  
• Freshman orientation with Drew.
• Our annual week at Lake Michigan.
• July 4th
• Family trip to Colorado for a wedding.
• Twins’ 2nd birthday (Remember their first…)

Stay tuned for my summer bucket list updates!

Now let the summer fun begin…

What’s on your bucket list for summer 2013?

Please share!

This was my rookie year.

At party throwing?  No.  At graduation party throwing?  Yes.

Honestly I kind of knew the gig.  As Drew so eloquently reminded me the other day, “Mom.  It’s a graduation party.  Food.  Tent.  Cornhole.”  In other words, “Get a grip, woman.”

Here’s the thing that threw me off a little.  I ambitiously decided to pick off Drew’s grad party right on the heels of graduation.  It seemed reasonable back in April.  ”Drew graduates the Thursday before Memorial Day.  We’ll have the party Memorial Day weekend.”  The idea was in the spirit of “get if over with” mixed in with a little desire to strike while the whole graduation-accomplishment-thing was hot.

What I didn’t think about was the fact that in order to have a party with food, tent, and cornhole, it might be desirable to have the yard in decent shape which usually doesn’t happen in our neck-of-the-woods until mid-June.  Add in the recent shenanigans with interior redesign projects that took turns for the more complicated, and we had a recipe for complete chaos and unabashed bitchiness the week before the party.

The craziness of our to-do list crescendoed the day of the big shindig when two hours before the party I nearly served Sean with divorce papers while he was standing under a tree in our back forty with a weed wacker.  Why?  Because he was wacking weeds in our back forty two hours before the party started.  Of course, when I questioned him as to why the hell he thought these weeds that no one can see from our back yard were worthy of his time right before our guests arrived I’m pretty sure he was also contemplating attorneys and custody arrangements.

I definitely had my witch on that afternoon, and I think he was back there doing pointless stuff because he was in self-preservation mode.

I wish I didn’t get this way before a large event.  I can’t help it.  Stress does bad things to my mood. (Especially when the people around me are doing stupid stuff.  Do you see what I just did?   Honestly I think the whole “she’s a bitch” -v- “he’s stupid” dilemma is kind of a chicken or the egg thing.  Don’t you think?)

Anyways, the party went off just fine and now that it’s over we are faced with surviving the next stage of the whole graduation thing.  Namely, the onslot of parties.  Currently I have 23 graduation party invitations hanging on my fridge.  Surviving the revolving door of “food.  tent.  cornhole” isn’t the problem.  Nobody loves a good hot dog more than our brood.  It’s how to avoid going broke while trying to appropriately gift all these graduates that is causing me a wee bit of stress.  After Sean and I ruled out selling one of Drew’s kidneys,I did a little research as to what might be considered a thoughtful but more affordable option for gifts.  I was also curious as to how others financially survive the grad party circuit.

First thing I learned was that this whole party phenomenon is regional.  Meaning certain parts of the U.S. don’t subscribe to this tradition.  In fact, I didn’t have a high school graduation party and I don’t remember going to any for my friends. It must not have been a central Illinois thing.  And…yes.  I’m a little bitter.

Bitterness aside,  I found some great suggestions for gifts that I can attest to as Drew received some from the list and they were a hit.

Gift suggestions for a high school/college bound graduate

• shower caddy filled with basic toiletries
• laundry basket filled with detergent, fabric softener and a “how to” note card
• laundry bag
• set of towels
• ear buds
• cordless computer mouse
• desk lamp for dorm
• picture frame
• wallet

Of course, cash is king so what exactly is the perfect amount to gift a grad?  I guess that depends on your relationship.  It seemed that a reasonable and affordable amount would be $20.  After all, no one is happier to have a twenty spot in their pocket then a poor college student.  Right?Drew received amounts all over the board and frankly, I was floored by people’s generosity.  I also felt a little funny about it because raising cash for him was not the purpose for the party.  We really just wanted to celebrate his graduation.

That being said, his thank you notes are almost completed, and I couldn’t be happier the entire ordeal is finished.  I’ve learned my lesson about party timing, inopportune weed wacking and graduation gift giving and for that, I am grateful.

After all, the count down for the next graduation has already started.

We are officially T-minus two years and counting.

*****

A few pics from the celebration…

I can’t believe all of these kids have grown up so fast.   They’ve all done so well.  We wish them all the best as they head off to college in the fall!

The last four weeks have been a whirlwind.

A graduation, graduation party, total gutting of two bathrooms, a minor redo of our kitchen that took a turn for the major, and a tangle with the stomach virus from hell followed by an upper respiratory strep infection that resembled a pandemic required my attention to divert to our family.

It appears that all fires have been extinguished.

Hallelujah.

(And yes…I am knocking on wood.)

Because I don’t want to overwhelm you with the intimate details of everything we’ve been through over the past month–and trust me when I say the material is endless AND priceless–I’m going to start back slowly.  I’m still weak from the emotional turmoil of it all.

If you are thinking my angst is coming from the bittersweet high school graduation of our oldest I hate to burst your bubble but I must.  As mixed as my emotions are about Drew’s impending exit from our daily lives, I must admit…the trauma of the kitchen wallpaper removal, drywalling failure, and rewallpapering/painting fiasco is causing me terrifying flashbacks that mimic my former symptoms of PTSD!

So…

I’m going to fall back on my old Monday stand-by of focusing on the smiles and allow a few pictures to tell a bit of our story.

Enjoy!

*****

First Smile…A Graduation

It’s over.  Drew is officially out of high school, done with track, and has completely been celebrated for all of his accomplishments.  All that’s left is to pack him up and move  him out.

 

 

 

Second Smile…Track is OVER!

I’ll never forget the tidbit of wisdom I learned early on in my parenting career from a veteran mom.  ”Any sport that incorporates the word ‘meet’ should be avoided.  Why?  Because the word ‘meet’ is code for ‘total time suck’!”  Good God how right she was.  Swim meets, track meets, wrestling meets, etc.,  require parents to spend an entire day watching their child participate in two events (spaced six hours apart) for a grand total of 47 seconds give or take a few.  Track is also notoriously cold, requiring parents to freeze their rears off while waiting for their child to do whatever it is they do!

That being said, I’ve developed a love/hate relationship with track meets.  I love watching my boys and the other athletes rock their talents.  I’m always amazed by the skill and dedication these young athletes display.  Drew and Ryan both had great seasons.

 

Third Smile…Kitchen Redo

I’ll write a little more about this in an upcoming post for 101.5 The River, but here’s the end results of three weeks of back breaking labor.  Enjoy!

 

 

 

 

I have never loved my kitchen cabinets.  They are very well made but not something I would choose.  That being said, I do love the look of our newly painted and tiled kitchen walls and they make me kind of actually like the cabinets.  It was one hell of a job, and honestly it’s not done.  Some places need a second coat and as evidenced in this picture  I forgot to paint the wall below the desk.  I’m sure I’ll get to it before Ryan graduates!

*****

I’m back on schedule with my little blog corner of the web.  Expect two to three posts per week (More likely two!  Let’s face it…it’s summer.  I’ve got rays to catch, little ones to play outside with, and memories to make! They are growing so fast.  I just can’t seem to freeze time, dammit!)

Oh…

And a special shout out to my Mom and Dad.  They spent the week before graduation with me and I was quite overwhelmed (code for bitchy) at the time.  They pitched in and helped save the day, and for that…I am very, very grateful!

Now…

Onward!

At my cousin’s shower a few weeks ago, someone rendered the bride a wise piece of advice…

“Remember, the more you do… the more you have to do!”

So true.

Oh how I wish someone would have tapped me on the shoulder many moons ago and told me to put down the paint brush and back away from the tool box.  Little did I know my ability to be handy was going to eventually bite me in my old lady ass.  Over the past two decades of marriage I have painted, wallpapered, stripped, refinished, and repaired my way into superstar handy man status.  In my earlier years, I was proud of my mechanical abilities.   I must have been smoking some sort of epoxy-crack as I think I may have thought that I looked cute in a tool belt.

I guess at 26 it was cute.

Problem is…at 44 it sucks.

Odd thing is it’s a bit of two prong problem.  First, Sean thinks I can do anything.  Like that one time after we had a new patio put in (Um…no.  I don’t do poured concrete!) and we needed a retaining wall.  Sean thought it would be stellar if, instead of hiring a masonry person to build the wall which would be uber-expensive, I would build the wall  (because I must look like I can haul retaining wall bricks the size boulders around the yard).

A wall?

Which leads me to the second part of the problem.  After years of doing home improvement projects myself, I’ve grown cocky.  Meaning, there’s a giant part of me that is still like, “Yeah.  I can do that.”  Then about fifteen minutes into the job, after I’ve been to Lowes and spent a few hundred dollars getting all the stuff I need, I realize that I’m a total asshole because I have no business building a retaining wall.   For starters, you’d think by now I’d be well aware of my limitations one of which is measuring.  I suck at measuring.  I’m more of an ‘eyeball it’ type of gal, and when building a wall that has to…you know…retain things…turns out measuring is kind of important.  In addition, I need to consistently remind myself of my age.  I’m 44.  I’m tired, and I have five kids who generate mountains of laundry and require annoying things like three meals a day.  Doing everything they need while building a wall is a bit of juggle and something has to give.  Usually it’s the laundry and that’s never good.

So why am I spouting off about all of this today?

Have a looksie below…

That, folks, is the current state of my kitchen.

Now let me explain.  Sean and I realize that there are some things that I cannot do…like tile.  (That was actually a difficult sentence for me to write because that part of my brain is whispering to me, ‘You could do it, Carolyn. You just can’t because of your schedule.  Oh… and you don’t have one of those fancy drippy water saw thingys.‘  Note to self-  Research existence of twelve step program for people who have delusions about mechanical abilities.)  So, I recently hired a real handy man to tile two bathroom floors and install a tile backsplash in our kitchen.  I thought the work would be starting in April, but due to some unforeseen delays it only started a week ago. “No big deal, ” I told myself.  ”Drew’s graduation party isn’t until Memorial Day weekend.  It’s only a back splash and a few floors.”

Unless it isn’t.

Because as I’ve learned the hard way but can never seem to remember, one thing always leads to another in home improvement projects.  Meaning, you make one part of a room look great, it’s going to make all other parts of the room look like hell and next thing you know you’re standing in your kitchen having just impulsively ripped all the wall paper down with no plan as to what you are going to do with your now bare and heavily damaged walls.  Oh…and you have two weeks until a huge ass party and your yard isn’t even done nor is any of the party prep not to mention your family of seven who needs clean clothes and food on the table.

Home improvement hell.

I tell you all of this not to solicit your pity, but instead to warn you of my impending absence over the next two weeks.  You’ll have to pardon this mama on the fly for a bit.  I have a party to plan, a yard to plant, and sadly…and scarily…dry wall to repair.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to start googling some process called skim coating.

God help me.

Every Wednesday I appear on 101.5 The River with Rick and Mary Beth to discuss a parenting related topic.  This week we are talking Mother’s Day gift giving dos and don’ts.  Not local?  Catch my appearance on I Heart Radio!   beginning at 7:20 am!  

*****

This time last year I was tired.

In fact, the adjective “tired” doesn’t even seem to capture the level of fatigue I was living with during May 2012.  Looking back on it, I realize that I was trying, at the time, to manage the resurrection of this blog, navigate motherhood with five children, two of whom didn’t regularly sleep through the night, and do all the other stuff I’ve always done during spring.  I distinctly remember falling asleep in my clothes one evening.  I’m guessing when Sean found me in our bed still wearing my shoes, he thought perhaps I could use a little relaxation for Mother’s Day.  Hence, he went above and beyond buying me a spa day at a local fancy pants salon.

When I opened the gift I was actually dumbfounded.  It seemed too extravagant both financially and time-wise.  I bit my tongue, however, as my mother smartly advised me years ago to never question a gift from my husband.  ”Just say thank you and be grateful he thought of you.”

Wise advice.

The morning of my day-of-pampering, Sean warned me as I started to do my hair.  ”No need for that.  You’re going to get wet.”  Apparently he’d signed me up for a treatment called a vichy shower.  I had no idea what that was, nor did I have time to research it, so away I went hoping I wasn’t about to get sprayed off like an elephant at the circus.

Little did I know what I was in for.

When the spa girl came to get me she explained that I needed to remove all my clothes before the treatment.  Great.  Seeing as how modesty left the building somewhere during my first labor and delivery, I shrugged it off as just another opportunity for some stranger to be exposed to my nether-regions.

Now, in case you’ve never seen a vichy shower room, let me set the scene.  It looks a little like a a mid-evil torture chamber of some sort.  Dimly lit with tiled walls, in the middle of the room is a treatment bed (and I use the term ‘bed’ loosely.  Honestly, it looked more like an embalming table.  In fact, I am damn positive that embalming tables and vichy shower beds are manufactured  in the same factory and are simply smacked with different labels when shipped out for sales.)  Spa girl told me to disrobe, lie on the ‘bed’, and cover myself with the two washcloths.  Once laid out and barely covered, spa girl rubbed me down with some body scrub.  Apparently I was being “buffed”.  It felt more like I was being sanded.

After the rub down, I was asked if I am claustrophobic.  I hate that question.  I always say no, but truth be told …it depends.  MRI machine?  I can handle it.  A minivan with three kids for more than a few hours?  Hell yes.  I am claustrophobic.  Deciding that this experience was going to be more MRI and less minivan ride from hell, I said no.

This was my first mistake as she proceeded to basically cocoon me in a bunch of towels in order to let the sanding…I mean buffing sink in.  Once she had secured me in what felt like a straight jacket, I made a mental note to profusely apologize to all five of my kids for swaddling them.  Until that moment, I was under the impression that swaddling was comforting.  Little did I know that my babies were silent while swaddled simply because they were quietly plotting their revenge…which apparently was coming to me in the form of vichy shower.

Of course, not wanting to look like a crazy woman, I said nothing.  How much worse could it get?

That’s when spa girl swung the longest shower arm I’ve ever seen over my body.  It hung horizontally with the table and had no less than six shower heads.  Before I could say anything, she turned it on and I was doused with water.  Now, apparently many people find this relaxing.  Unfortunately, for me, all I could envision was being water boarded.

Making it worse, when I get nervous I get the giggles.  So there I lay,  in my straight jacket while being water boarded, laughing.  I cannot begin to imagine what a nutcase spa girl thought I was.

Eventually the cocoon was removed, I was flipped, and my backside was pressure washed for what seemed like an eternity.  In fact, of the four spa treatments I received during the day, the vichy shower was the longest.  By the time it was over, I was mentally exhausted.  I’ve never been so happy to exit a spa room in my life.

Since my experience, I’ve talked to many, many women who find vichy showers very relaxing.  I’m just not one of those gals.

******

Which leads to my list of Do’s and Don’ts  for Mother’s Day gift giving.  

Spa Related…

Do          Consider gifting a spa treatment/day for the mother in your life.  It’s a gift that most women won’t give to themselves.

Don’t      Pick out the treatments for her.  Let her decide what treatment would be most enjoyable!

Jewelry Related…

Do          Consider gifting jewelry for the mother in your life.  It doesn’t have to be expensive.  In fact, many a bracelet has come and gone in my life, but the treasures I’ve held onto are always picked out or sometimes made by my kids.  Nothing is sweeter than having a little boy pick out a necklace of cheap beads for his mom.  I love that kind of stuff.   (For a great idea for a homemade Mother’s Day bracelet visit Mary Vogel’s blog here.  She has a darling idea!)

Don’t       Buy some random piece of jewelry.  Put some thought into it!  The sentiment behind the gift means more than the gift.  Trust me on this!

Flower Related…

Do            Consider gifting flowers for the mother in your life.  Hanging baskets are in full bloom at every nursery in the country right now.  In addition, consider making a live floral arrangement.  Homemade cut flower arrangements can be made inexpensively from grocery store bouquets.  Learn how at this link.

Don’t         bring home a bouquet from the grocery store and leave it on the kitchen counter.  Nothing says “last minute thought” more than a bouquet of flowers from Kroger.

*****

For me, Mother’s Day isn’t about the gift.  It’s about showing the ladies in my life who are mother figures to me and my children that what they do day after day is appreciated.  Sometimes a handwritten note  expressing gratitude for their efforts is the very best gift to give…and receive.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Having you ever been looking forward to something and dreading it at the same time?  Have you ever wanted to attend an event but not wanted to go at the same time?

I have…on both counts.

Last Thursday night held one of those events for me.  The “to do”was called A Senior Mom’s Reflection.  Held at Drew’s high school, the purpose of the evening was to set the tone for a prayerful goodbye to our sons.  I knew it would be a lovely evening full of anecdotes and images of my son and his classmates navigating the halls of his high school. And I am eager to celebrate this whole graduation milestone for my first born.  I’m excited for him.

But…

I’m dreading Drew leaving.  I mean really…really  dreading it.  I never thought I’d be that mom.

I’ll never forget the day my parents dropped me off at college.  I was so excited and not at all devastated when they left.  Sure, I’d miss them, but I couldn’t wait to exercise my independence in my new world with new people.  I don’t even remember our goodbye scene.  It all must have been very blase’.  That’s why I was so stunned when later that evening  I watched my roommate and her family tearfully say goodbye.  Not only was Amy crying, but her parents and younger brothers were crying.  At the time I was baffled.  This entire moving to college thing seemed so natural to me.  How could this be giving my roommate’s family so much trouble?

Fast forward to Drew.

I am so over-the-moon excited for his future.  Everything about Ohio University is a great fit for him.  He’s running cross country so he’ll have instant friends that share a common interest (obsession).  He’s going to study journalism which I know is exactly what he should do.  (Drew is a natural born newsie who starts at least half of his sentences with the words, “Did you hear?“).  Hell, he’s even met his roommate and I’ve met his roommate’s parents and all of them seem like first class good folk.  I couldn’t be happier for him.

But, I’m sad, too.

Reagan and Isabella are just starting to say his name and Mary Kate adores him .  Then there’s Ryan.  I have flashbacks to when Drew headed off to kindergarten and Ry stood at the front door waiting for the school bus to bring his best friend home.  The two of them are extremely close.  They never fight.  They hang out all the time.  I know Drew leaving may open up a side of Ryan we’ve never seen before which could be a great thing, but I also know they will miss one another.  Deeply.

Of course, then there’s me.  It’s hard to put into words how much I’m going to miss Drew.  He’s been such a pleasure to parent.  In some ways, I think God tricked us by sending Drew and Ryan first.  The two of them have truly been the easiest kids to raise.  I’m so proud of the people they’ve grown up to be.  I can’t imagine our day-to-day lives without either one of them.

When I mentioned the Senior Reflection to Drew he said, “Oh yeah.  I had to write a letter to you.  You’ll get it there.”  That news brought me even more angst.

Now I have to worry about blubbering with an audience.  I prefer to cry in private.

So, yes.  I wanted to go, but I didn’t want to go.

I went anyways.

When I walked through the door for the reflection I was surprised to see my friend, Cindy Hoeflinger.  I didn’t expect for her to be there.  Her son, and Drew’s friend since kindergarten, died in a car accident three months ago.  Suddenly I felt like an ass.  Talk about someone who has probably been to countless events over the past twelve weeks that she didn’t want to go to, but went anyways because she knew she needed to.  I was so glad to see her.

We sat together during the program.  We chatted about stuff moms shouldn’t have to chat about.  She misses her son so much.  There is anger and anguish.  There is grief that could swallow a mother whole, but somehow she’s keeping it at bay.  I remember thinking to myself that I had no idea how she was finding the strength to move forward.  Then she shared this…

“I’m trying not to focus on why Brian died.  I’ll never know why.  Instead, I’m trying to concentrate on why Brian lived.  What was his life supposed to teach me?”

Wow.

When it was time to read our letters I was delighted to see that some of the boys had written Cindy letters, too.  We all laughed at the funny stuff our sons wrote.  We teared up at their gratitude.  It was special.  Very, very special.

When I arrived home that evening I thought about what Cindy had said.  In the midst of her grief, she’s trying like hell to direct her focus in a productive direction.  If she can do that when struggling through the death of her child, surely I can put my big girl panties on when thinking about Drew leaving us for college.  Yes, things will change with him being away, but the experience of parenting a child in college will teach me if I concentrate on the lessons at hand.

I’m still dreading Drew leaving for college and with all the upcoming graduation festivities his exit from our lives is weighing heavily on my mind.  However, that event that I didn’t want to attend, but went to anyways held gifts of wisdom, inspiration and perspective for me.

Thank goodness I went.

What a gift.

*****

I humbly ask that all of you continue to keep Brian and Cindy Hoeflinger, their three surviving children, and all of Brian Jr.’s family and friends in your prayers.  Cindy tells me the prayers are helping.  Thank you.

Sean is a vegetable freak.

What I mean is that he is a tad obsessed with making sure our kids get their daily recommended servings of fruit and vegetables.  I know that should translate to me being grateful for what a caring and involved father he is.  Because he is.  But let’s be realistic, folks. I’m a 44 year old peri-menopausal mother with five kids (three of whom exhaust me) which I’m sad to say causes me to hover around a five on the continuum of crabbiness.  Inquiries from Sean about what I’ve fed the children translate, in my brain, to inferences that I’m inept at feeding my kids and ultimately push me to about an eight on the richter scale of bitchy.

I’m working on that.

I am trying not to take Sean’s parenting suggestions as insinuations that I’m not good at being a mom.  He’s entitled to a say.  For the life of me I don’t understand why his involvement in my kitchen pisses me off so much.  So, I’ve been trying to temper my annoyance with deep breaths and kind responses.

This is hard work, people.

Especially when my choice to follow his menu requests back fire because of his lack of ability to identify certain vegetables.

Confused?  Well get this…

On Wednesday morning I got this text…

It arrived at 7:58 in the morning.  Breakfast wasn’t even cleaned up, and I was instantly annoyed that he was already onto dinner when I had a lot of in-between-now-and-then to navigate.  Seeing as how I am trying to temper my bitchy impulses, I refrained from responding with the first text that popped into my mind.  (It involved the words ‘sprouts’, ‘shove’ and ‘ass’).  Now before you send me a private message about managing my anger via mood stabilizers, let me explain something.  I’ve never served brussels sprouts to my family; I’ve never seen Sean eat a brussels sprout; And, I don’t know how to prepare brussels sprouts and wasn’t keen on learning.  So, yes.  I was annoyed.

But I’m working on this, right?

So, I squelched my inner bitch and channeled June Cleaver.   Maybe they’ll love them.  Maybe I can add a new recipe to my rotation.  Trying new things is good.  And off to the market I went for a pound a half of brussels sprouts.

An hour before dinner I drizzled those mini heads of cabbage with olive oil, generously sprinkled them with kosher salt, cracked pepper and garlic, and roasted them for 30 minutes at 400 degrees.  When I put them on the plate with the steak and pasta they looked just like the picture from allrecipes.com.  I was proud.  Not only had I controlled my inner witch, but I was about to successfully add a new veggie to our palate.  Sean was going to be so pleased.  Right?

Not so much.

I first sensed something was wrong when I placed the plate on the table.

Sean      What are those?

Me         Um…brussels sprouts.  You asked for them.

Looking confused, Sean put one in his mouth, promptly gagged, and spit it back out on the plate.

Sean       What did you do to them?  I’ve never seen them look like that.

I could feel the bitchy richter scale tipping in an unfortunate direction as I willed myself some self-control.

Me           I’ve never made them before and YOU ASKED FOR THEM.

Sean        [bewildered] You make them every week.  You know…those long, green, stalky things that we all like.

And that was it.  The straw that broke the bitchy camel’s back.  I grabbed the plate, stomped into the kitchen, and threw those bitter, nasty tasting brussels sprouts in the disposal  Then I spun on my heals, and said…

“That’s asparagus.  A-S-P-A-R-A-G-U-S!!!”

(Oh…and I may have muttered the word ‘moron‘ in my response as well.)

*****

At my cousin’s bridal shower this past weekend we were to write a piece of marital advice on a pretty little card and attach it to our gift.  My Aunt Judy started her’s with this sentence…

“For sure, there are times when you’ll want to trip him.”

We all burst out laughing because it was such a true statement.

She went on to advise Jessica to make a point to hold hands with her husband.  ”Holding hands rekindles the bond that caused the two of you to fall in love with one another.”

So true.

*****

Sean and I laughed about the sprouts incident later.  I told him I’m trying to be nicer so I refrained from questioning his request.  He told me I should’ve inquired.  Then I told him that it was honestly better that I didn’t because the words ‘shove’, ‘sprouts’, and ‘ass’ were involved.  I then warned him that future veggie requests were most likely going to be ignored.

He’s good with that.

We both have things to work on.  Communication is at the top of the list.

MK has an American Girl doll.

She received it for her 5th birthday as a gift from her grandmas and she’s been smitten ever since.  Kit Kittredge has accompanied our family on a number of outings including the park, church, the grocery store, ballet class, swimming lessons and most recently on our trip to Chicago.  Seeing as how Kit has become such an integral part of our family, it seemed fitting that we take time to visit “her people” at the  American Girl store on Michigan Avenue.

I know, I know…twist my arm.  A day on Michigan Avenue.  It’s a tough life.

Anyways, if you are a regular reader her, you know I’m a down-to-Earth kind of mom.  It’s not that I don’t love the finer things in life, but extravagances, to me, taste sweeter when experienced as the result of a “deal”.  Show me a Pottery Barn inspired nursery, I’ll knock off something just as cute but purchased from a second-hand store.  I’m practical like that.  Plus…I’m married to a financial planner.  I know the value of the dollar.

That being said, I as I entered the AG store I thought I’d armored myself with a good dose of synicism and healthy shot of self control.  What I didn’t know was that the American Girl marketing people saw me coming from a mile away.  As a result, somewhere between the front door and the coat check, I was sucked into the  vortex of American Girl doll insanity.

What was the first sign of trouble?  I’m not exactly sure but I think I knew I was in deep when I found myself making an appointment for Kit at the AG doll salon.  Yes, folks.  There’s a salon.  Complete with spa treatments for your doll, including but not limited to up-doos, body scrubs (for your doll, people.  Stick with me here), and doll enhancement procedures.  Kit now has her ears pierced and owns six sets of earrings.

Um…I don’t even own six pairs of earrings.  Like I said…I was in over my head.

Honestly I think it’s quite possible the AG people slipped me a ‘mickey’ at the enchanted luncheon in the American Girl doll restaurant.  I’m not sure if it was in the $22 a head four course luncheon, or the ala-carte $8 Mimosa that seemed to delicious to pass up.   Somewhere during that meal, I lost what was left of my mind.  Next thing you know Mary Kate and I were grabbing doll outfits and accessories that suddenly became ‘must-haves’.  Even my own mother got caught up in the madness.  As a result, Kit now owns a ballet outfit that costs more than the get-up Mary Kate actually wears to real-live-little-girl ballet class.

The funny thing was while this craziness was playing out, little lucid moments of “Holy crap! Get the hell out of here before your husband divorces you for spending your daughter’s college fund in a doll store” were happening.  It was then that I’d whisper to my mom, “we are going straight to hell for this” .  Unfortunately, the part of my brain that understood how sinful it was to spend $30 on an outfit for a doll couldn’t seem to connect with the temporarily more dominant part of my brain that was enthusiastically justifying the splurge.  I think I may or may not have actually had a conversation with a complete and utter stranger about how  “you just can’t beat the quality of the AG clothes“.  It was another mom who was glazed over with the same look of insanity.  She was in as deep as I was.  It was oddly comforting to know I wasn’t alone in my mania.

Eventually, I did get a hold of myself when I inquired about the car.  A convertible Volkswagon Bug could be Kit’s for a cool $350.  “That’s insane” I mumbled  as I balanced the plethora of crap MK had piled into my shopping bag.  It was then that we re-evaluated our needs and many things were redistributed back to their shelves.  MK was happy to choose two items, and the rest was put on her mental wish list for future occasions.  I was actually proud of my little girl for being so reasonable.

That’s when it hit me.

As expensive as the American Girl merchandise is, the tone of their message has definitely resonated with my girl. You see, Kit came with a book about her life.  Ironically she lived in 1934, and her family had to make many sacrifices as a result of the Great Depression.  I’d been reading Kit’s story to Mary Kate each night before bed.  The lessons of selflessness, frugalness and creative ways to make ends meet were making a mark on my impressionable young daughter.  As I’ve researched the entire concept of American Girl, I’m realizing what a gift their brand is for girls.  Their products are wholesome.  They promote reading and teach about kindness.  There’s no provocatively dressed dolls peddling hoochie-mama innuendos at American Girl.  Instead there’s a celebration of diversity sandwiched in between a message about female empowerment.

I love that.

Reflecting on our day in the American Girl store, I realize that what I didn’t understand prior to our visit is that the AG store is an experience.  It’s about browsing through the dolls.  Learning their stories. Peaking the interest of young minds about the historical periods.  Yes, we left with a few treats, and that was definitely a splurge, but what the AG store really provided for me was an opportunity to partake in a special afternoon with my daughter.

That is something I treasure.

I can’t wait to go back.

*****

Since our trip and my reconnection with my practical-self, I’ve looked into some more affordable options regarding American Girl products.  Below you’ll find some tips about the best ways to find previously loved AG dolls and accessories.  I also found some valuable tutorials about refurbishing AG dolls that have been loved a little too much.  In addition, there are some links below as to where you can buy replicas of American Girl type-dolls that are more affordable along with some links to online crafters who make beautiful but less expensive AG doll clothes.

Enjoy!

1.  For some tips as to how best to purchase a used AG doll read this article here.

2.  For some great video tutorials on how to care for AG doll hair click here and here and here.

3.  Here’s a great forum discussion on which AG replica dolls are of the best quality.

4.  A great article on some wonderful online homemade doll clothes for AG type dolls is here.  

5.  Of course, AG-type doll clothes can be purchased at Target, Michaels, Hobby Lobby, Toys-R-Us, Avon and Costco.

*****

It looks like American Girl is becoming a more accessible for us Ohioans.  They are opening a store at Easton Town Center  in Columbus on June 22, 2013.  In honor of their opening and everything American Girl stands for Mamaonthefly.com is giving away a $50 gift card to American Girl.  To qualify, you must leave a comment about your favorite American girl doll and why her story is so special.  One comment will be chosen on Wednesday, May 8th for the gift card giveaway!  Happy commenting!

Instead of cheese we say, “cousins“.   Not always because that wouldn’t make sense, but this past weekend “cousins” was the word of the day.

When I was a kid my parents were conscientious about nurturing a strong relationship with our extended family.  Aunts, uncles, cousins:  They were valued members of our circle.  Their presence for birthdays, holidays and milestones was usually a given.  It was quite a feat considering none of us lived in the same state.  Spread out across the country, herculean efforts were always made when it came to our family getting together.  Sometimes schedules and finances stood in the way, but most of the time everyone sacrificed a little bit of something in order to be present.

The senior members of my clan seemed to understand how special us cousins should be to one another.  I guess that’s why they often threw us in the basement with our sleeping bags and pillows.  That’s where the magic happened.  Weddings were meticulously planned (we’d all be each other’s bridesmaids);  pranks were played on the boys;  hair was endlessly braided; and  Barbies were played into the wee hours of the night.  We’d eavesdrop on our parents who’d laugh and laugh as they’d relived their wilder days over boxes of wine and bottles of beer.  Clearly the elders in the group had an affinity for one another.  They enjoyed one another’s company and wanted us to love being around each other as much as they did.

Their efforts have paid off…in spades.

This past weekend marked a milestone for our youngest cousin.  She’s tying the knot in August, and this was her shower weekend.  The destination was a bonus.  Chicago is my favorite town.  Knowing that none of us could  come to Chicago without seeing some sites, we made a three day weekend of it by arriving early Friday…little girl second-cousins in tow.  Now that our relationship is cemented, it’s our turn to endear these little ones to one another.  A day on Michigan Avenue was the perfect opportunity!

When they smiled for this pictured they yelled, “cousins“!  Of course, they are second-cousins, but that little formality was lost in the moment.

The weekend only got better from there.  Friday afternoon we picked up  our Aunt Angie from the airport (You must know her name is pronounced “Ayngie”.  She grew up in Kentucky, y’all).  Aunt Angie is our maternal grandmother’s younger sister.  She’s eighty-six years young and has a spunk in her step that gives us forty and thirty-something cousins hope.  We can only pray her good health and high spirits are genetic.  Aunt Angie flew in for the  shower and  utilized the wheel chair service in the airport because she thought she should.  However, she forgot to play the part when she scampered into the bathroom right before boarding.  Her quick pace resulted in a scolding from her daughter  for not “selling the little old lady bit” more convincingly.

Let me tell you…there’s nothing “little-old-lady” about Aunt Angie’s spirit.

 

Saturday night Aunt Angie told stories.  Stories about her parents and grand parents that I’d never heard.  She referred to people that are “my people” using names  of distant relatives I recognized but really don’t know much about.  Honestly, she could have held court because my generation was captivated by hearing our history.  There’s something so magical about learning our ancestry. To hear that I look like my grandma or my aunt laughs like her aunt.  It unearths a connection in us to the past and makes me wonder.  What would my great grandmother think of me now?  I hope she’d be proud of all of us and the people we’ve grown up to be.  Most importantly, I bet she’d be proud that our family is so tight.  I know that’s what I want for my great-great grandchildren–to cherish their family–my family.

Of course, Saturday brought us to shower day.  Jessica, my baby cousin, is getting married in August.  Mary Kate is the flower girl so this marked her first shower experience.  MK couldn’t have been more excited.

As I drove home on Sunday I couldn’t help but feel sad the weekend was over.  That’s how it always is when I’ve been looking forward to something for so long.  When it’s over, there’s a buzzkill involved.  That being said, I also reflected on how lucky I am.  I have such a great family.  We all enjoy one another so much.  Sure…we have our “that family” moments.  All families do. But when push comes to shove my family–the aunts, uncles and cousins–the great aunts, second cousins, and in laws–are always a sure thing to one another.

And “sure things” are always a blessing.

******

Just a little well-wish to my very loyal reader, Debbie Schaff.  Debbie, I know you were the mother of the groom this past weekend.  I want you to know I thought of you on your special day.  From what I’ve seen on FB, it looks like you had a wonderful weekend with your “sure thing” family.  I’m so happy for you and Chris.  Just wanted you to know!  XOXO