Plowin' On Through

Sometimes I miss my children being small. When I think about the days when I could scoop them up and bury my nose in their little necks, the way their skin felt, how safe I always thought they were in my arms...it's easy to miss those days.  I comfort myself with the fact that they will give me grandchildren.  It's been a long wait already and those days are not yet in sight.

So I comfort myself instead with how much fun we can truly have now that they are grown.  Not only can we talk about the price of gas or eggs, but we are finally on the same side of everything.  There is no more hiding certain parts of reality from them.  If only there were!  More importantly, they no longer feel the need to hide certain things from me.  When you think about it, looking back, parents and children do a lot of lying (if only by omission) for the sole reason of "protecting" each other.  It's really silly but so far no one has come up with an alternate plan that ends with children being responsible adults.  Oh, there have been parents and children without these barriers, but they usually end up as a movie of the week.  Not my style.

This post is about some of the lesser secrets of life.  This post is about secrets in the kitchen.  Women are usually the sole conspirators, but the Lord knows that men are not immune, if they happen to spend much time in the kitchen.

Some of the best memories my daughter and I have (so far) is in regard to these secrets.  

When either of the older kids come home now, there is a flurry of activity with greetings and going here and there and catching up. Then we eventually drift to our natural environments, which with me is the kitchen.

The Beautiful Redhead and I had the best time making pies last Thanksgiving.  She left out ingredients and I spilled them all over the counter before we got them in the oven, but I told her not to worry.  "No one will ever know", I said.  "They have never questioned any kind of food I have given them in their entire lives, with the one exception being the time I sprinkled cinnamon over the chicken/broccoli/rice casserole instead of paprika", I said.  She remembered that and we had a good laugh.  That was the year I got bifocals, by the way.  heh heh heh.   But the pies were a roaring success that year, even if we did leave the evaporated milk out.  So if you ever "forget" the evaporated milk or anything, I advise you to plow right on ahead and dare anybody to be able to tell the difference.  My money is on you, my Wooden Spoon Brigade, and I am not even a betting woman.  I will have you know we served those pies just like we knew what we were doing.  And we had a bonding moment as I met my daughter's eyes while all her brothers were eating the pies without any comment except compliments. "Toldjah!"  my eyes said to hers.  "I can't believe we pulled it off!" her eyes answered.  We were in it together, come what may.

So with Easter coming and me being about chocolated out from all the recipes on Facebook last week, (what was the deal with that, anyway?!?!) I was dreaming of something fruity. I found this recipe jello ribbon cake.  It seemed simple enough, so we got started.

As we caught up on our personal lives the cakes were in the oven.  The orange one got done really fast. This was due, I believe, to it being in a glass pie pan, as I have only one round cake pan. I think I used to have another one but it got used in a sandbox or maybe the dogs ate it.  I forget the details. Forgetting the details is what keeps mothers sane.  I highly recommend it.  The cherry one overflowed and burnt in the bottom of the oven. "Do you smell something burning?" I asked, "It's the coffee" she answered. A few minutes later I took out the orange one and let her know the cherry one may be in trouble.  We mixed the filling layer, with me doing the steps and her reading it off, two or three times just to be sure, because this is how we left out the evaporated milk at Thanksgiving.  Learning from your mistakes is very important and a skill that I actively cultivate.  It is especially challenging when you forget details,  just one of the double edged swords of motherhood.  We got the filling done right. 

By then the cherry cake had quit smoking in the oven but it had, unfortunately fallen by the time it cooled.   "Oh well", I said, "we are going to paste this baby together with cream cheese and Cool Whip Frosting, no one will ever know the difference."  About that time the twins were cheering for some basketball team that was making them very happy indeed, and she just smiled.  March madness is a wonderful thing, especially if you don't follow basketball but need privacy in the kitchen.

The cherry cake ended up being able to be sliced in two.  The orange cake came out mostly in pieces, well, more like limestone layers, if you know what I mean. If you don't, you should be feeling superior right now because your cakes probably always turn out normal.  You are lucky if this is the case, but you also have no idea what you are missing.  Where is the challenge if your cakes turn out perfect? What fun is that?  You have no idea how much fun it can be to overcome these obstacles.

So we made a 3 layer cake, with extra filling between both layers.  We were actually starting to look forward to this cake. It did not look like much at this point, it was true, but we were sampling right along and everything tasted wonderful, so we plowed ahead.  I would have taken pictures but I haven't figured out if I can use the camera and the Chromebook together yet, plus I was too embarrassed.  It was all crooked and listing to one side pretty bad.  I could already tell we were never going to forget this cake!

The Cool Whip frosting is wonderful, as I'm sure you guessed.  You should make sure it's all the way defrosted. I don't know why they keep it frozen and it irritates me to death, but only because I have no patience.  I tell you now, IF you insist on frosting your cake too soon, it will smoosh the layers of filling out of the middle of your cake.  Oh, you can get (most) of it back in, but it takes a delicate touch and patience. This is why we have children, it turns out.  They will keep going while you lose your mind and open windows and complain about how hot it is, while drinking coffee.  I love my daughter.  I mean, I love all my kids but who keeps my secrets?  She does.  Who knows my objective when I am in such a state and works along like nothing is wrong?  She does!  Without her I would be lonely in a way that I cannot even begin to express.

By the time the twins were joyously yelling about "Kansas being out" (sorry about your bad luck, there, Kansas) we got the frosting on, threw some jelly beans on top, and it looked a little, well, amateurish.  But I never claimed to be a professional when it comes to cooking.  Never.  Not one single time.  Ever.  This is very important, in case you are making a plan for future disasters in the kitchen. You probably should be.  They come around on a regular basis.

Into the refrigerator it went, to set up (Lord hear our prayer) or possibly break down overnight.  Whatever else Easter brings, it will bring a very tasty if not beautiful cake.  "Don't worry", I said, "they'll never know", I said.  She just smiled at our beautiful creation.

I know that she will hear my voice in her head saying these words, comforting her and giving her strength to plow on through, all the days of her life.  With me or without me.  It's a family tradition.  One that I have no doubt she will pass on.  Someday.  Sigh.

Have a blessed Easter and never lose a chance to make a good memory. Some of my best ones involve what I regarded at the time as complete catastrophes.  Here's to making good memories.

Jed Clampett Speaks to Me

WOW!  They said we were going to get another 10 inches of snow and for once they were right!

Look what quiet little tiny flakes can do if they are consistent and stick together.  Consider this a metaphor for our country right now and look up your Representatives numbers right now.  What else do you have to do today?

I got up this morning, having heard no roaring winds in the night, and as always, God whispered "Go look outside."  Maybe it's just a mid-western thing, but every single day is a surprise.  Sometimes it's a surprise because it's different than yesterday.  Some times it's a surprise because it's the same.  There is no real "normal" at any given point in time.  We do have periods where it stays cold, or hot, for a couple weeks at a time and that makes us crazier than anything.  It gives us time to complain, and nobody likes that.

Today will be a day of scooping, woman, pull out the sky pants, pronto!

I didn't let it get me down.  In fact, I got all excited because NO ONE was out.  NO ONE seemed to be up, either, which for some reason always makes us MOMs feel super efficient and equal to the task.  I texted my boss and asked how the roads were.  He said very deep and not to get out until the streets were plowed.  Ah, no guilt.  Why does having permission always make me feel so much better?  It probably just harks back to a time in my life when I was able to believe that adults were in charge.  Those were good old days, and I miss them very much.  Or maybe it's just because I'm a woman and in our culture (I use the term very loosely these days, which I know you, dear reader, understand) we (used) to defer to men's opinions.  Why?  because they were in charge.  I know, it seems a little crazy now but there was a day when that was true.  Well, there was a day when one could believe that was true, if one so chose.  It was very comforting.

The only sound was the wind and clumps of heavy snow falling off the branches.

I took the dogs out.  They looked at me like I was crazy.  

Look, lady, I love you and all but this is DEEP!

I've never claimed NOT to be crazy, so I scooped the stairs down to the backyard for them.  All but the last one, which is buried under the snow, that is.  Then they really got with it.

 Someday I will probably figure out how the settings on this camera.  Until that day comes, use your imagination.  It's the best I can do.

A squirrel?  Falling clumps of snow?  I don't know because by now I already had gotten one face full of snow and refused to look up any more.

This is what the chain link looked like.  No wonder they were looking up.  It was the only direction they could see.

I shoveled the drive.  It took me about an hour, done in 3 shifts, as you can clearly see by how much is still coming down if you look closely at the next picture.

You might think this made me feel like it was futile.  I happen to know futile very well, and we are locked in a struggle that I am simply too stubborn to ever give up.  This struggle has been going on for 47 years and shows no signs of stopping.  Now the big question is: Is that futile?  I'm too stubborn to examine that one too closely.  Feel free to do it in my honor.

 Bend, trees, don't break!

 The snow......it came from the North......

 Remember the Wang Chung song?  "Move it down to the ground"  Almost there.  This was about 6:30 a.m.

 "down to the ground"......CHECK.  About 7:30 a.m.

I am still not sure how much snow we have gotten, but we got 10" last week and I would say at least that much more last night and today and it is still coming down.

Toward the end, just when my arms were getting shaky, Jed Clampett spoke inside my head.  His voice clearly said "Whee, doegggies!  That's a lotta snow!"  I smiled and planted my shovel, and threw me head back and just let the snow hit my face.  It was still absolutely quiet, and no one was out.  One of my neighbors did get out and make a foray around the block.  I smiled and waved as he came around and went right back home.  

Jack and Shadow stare in consternation at a tree limb that is bent down to the level of the snow.  That's.....different.  Should we chew on it?

It's a snow day her in Missouri.  It will be spent shoveling and eating and laying around, in that order, repeated as needed.  I hope you enjoy yours.  I have already enjoyed mine.

Oh, Red Bud Tree, I will miss you so.  Maybe some of you will rally.  Rally, Red Bud Tree!!

Come on!  What's taking you so long?

Just Like Old Times.....

I have been a bad blogger.  Well, it's winter, and as you know I would rather be hibernating.

Recently, I kept both Abigail and 4 month old Adriana while their parents went out for a few hours.  We are calling Adriana "Rose", and she is quite fetching.  She is at the age where if you happen to catch her eye, she grins and it spills out of her, washes all the way down and she giggles and waves her hands and feet.  I am, naturally, very taken with her.

We got a long famously...... until we didn't.  She may have been hungry, I don't really think so, but as she didn't settle down, I warmed up a bottle.  This is no small feat when you are dealing with frozen breast milk, but I got it ready and offered it to her.

Bless her little heart, she has so far learned that when she wants her mother, and therefore to be fed, all she has to do is cry a little.  Well, she cried, I offered her the bottle, and she cried some more.  Abigail dove into action and performed all her tricks.  Her tricks did not work either.  That night Rose learned an important life lesson which was captured perfectly by the Rolling Stones in the song You Can't Always Get What You Want.

Miss Rose ratcheted herself up louder and louder.  She got to the point where she was stiff as a board, she made little fists, and she screamed for all she was worth.  Personally I had to admire her tenacity.  This girl already shows signs of deep commitment and the courage of her convictions.  I think she is going to be one to watch.  She doesn't give up easily and compromise is not yet in her repertoire.

At one point, early on, Abigail started screaming too, I guess figuring that she was speaking her sister's language.  I got that stopped.  Abigail decided she would brush my hair "for" me at this point, and I let her. I was holding screaming Rose, bouncing on the edge of the bed, and when Abigail brushes your hair, you are not allowed to turn your head. It went along pretty good until I turned my head and she caught the brush in my earring.  No harm done, but no more brushing my hair either.

Poor Shadow, who you may already know pretty much runs this house, about lost her mind.  I wish I would have thought to take a picture of her eyes because they were pouring empathy out by the bucketful.  She would look at the baby and then look at me, like "What should we do?  Why don't you know what to do?"  Jack just laid on the floor and sighed a lot.

At one point My Youngest Baby got up and said "I can't take this", and I actually laughed out loud.

When this happened with my own babies, I felt just like poor Shadow, which is to say, I felt like I should be able to figure it out and stop it immediately.  You get better with practice, of course, and by the time the twins were born I was much better at it.  But My Youngest Baby was a child who could not settle down if he could see or hear ANYTHING.  I finally figured out that if I put him in the bassinet, draped a receiving blanket over the top so that he could not see any visual stimulants, and then rolled him in by the dishwasher that the gentle WHOOSH.......WHOOSH.......WHOOSH of it would lull him to sleep.  I once saw a commercial for a dishwasher that made no noise (so they said) and thought that would be a bad choice.  It would have been for me, anyway.  I told him that story and he looked at me like there was no way that could possibly be true.

About 20 minutes into the end of the world as we know it, I called Rose's mom and Daddy told me that Rose prefers her bottles warmer than I probably realized.  It turned out that he was right.

By this time I was sweaty, Rose was sweaty, the dogs, twins, and Abigail were stressed, and all I could do was be glad that I could handle this.  This was not my first rodeo.  It made me remember what was, in reality, the most miserable time of my life fondly.  Not unlike a seasoned soldier looks back at boot camp.  Yeah, it was terrible, but you survived it and just look at you now!  You can do this, and you know you can do this.  It makes all the difference in the world.  Or like how much you hated going to school until you had to get a real job, when all of a sudden you would give anything to go back to that place and do it over.

 .

I was equal to the task.  I am like a baby screaming ninja now.  I saw her screaming and raised her a bottle that was not quite hot but much warmer than I thought it should be.  And she folded.  After 35 minutes of giving it all she had, she learned the art of compromise.

The silence was deafening.  Everyone's shoulders went down about 2 inches, and that baby went to sleep like an angel.  I laid her down in the cradle that my own babies slept in and sighed a contented sigh.

Around midnight, she rolled over, or maybe just moved her hand.  In any case, she made a noise and I shot out of bed like the ninja I now am and got a bottle all ready.  Defrosted and too hot (for me) but just right (for her), I was ready.  The only one up in  my quiet house, I waited. I thought about reading but didn't want to wake my brain completely up. It's a fine line between getting up and doing what you have to do and being able to go right back to sleep.  One I apparently have still to master.

I waited so long that the bottle was no longer the right temperature.  I stood over her and observed her closely.  She was out like a light.  I waited some more.  I put the bottle in hot water to keep it warm.  The water cooled, and still she did not move.  Her parents came home and she slept on.  I felt, for some reason, like she had one-upped me, and if I went back to bed she would have her revenge, so I waited some more.  After an hour I started calculating how much sleep I was missing and finally I went back to bed, still believing that she would wake up as soon as I drifted off.  Then I remembered that I did this same exact thing with my first child.  If I would have just left him alone, I would have gotten a lot more sleep!

Well, that baby slept right through until 4 am and the only one who was really happy with that was her mother.  She said she never did that for her.  I laughed and said "She never has to do that with you, you're the mother!!"

I guess the lesson is that no matter how good you are, you are never really in control of anything.  Better to be ready, of course, but don't be surprised if what you are ready for doesn't ever happen.  Oh, and roll with the punches, because I can promise you they will keep coming.  But you will get better with practice, and there is no finish line, or ceremony, or prize that you can keep on a shelf and show your friends.

Mothers don't need that kind of recognition, not really.  Mothers know that no one judges them as harshly as they themselves do, and that no one will ever know the victories they win.  All you can do is the best you can, and that is enough.  More than enough, sometimes, even if you are the only one who ever know it.