These Days of Wine and Roses...........

School is almost out, graduations are happening everywhere, and the roses are blooming in abundance.  Last weekend we took a mini vacation to see My Fourth Son graduate.  It was good to be back and visit everyone.  We even took the dogs.

Da boyz

My Fourth Son.  When I met him he rode a bicycle and educated me on the reasons why Mongoose was the only brand of bike he would ride.  He is a young man and an old soul, and I love him like my own.

Cousins.....nothing like cousins.......

It's party time.  Note the change of costume.  My Oldest Baby picked the perfect outfit for anything to happen, I must say.  He is the one with the paint covered shorts on.  Make a note of that.

My Oldest Baby and I shared a bonding experience when we got stuck on the side of the road on our way home.  Jack was riding with him in the truck, proudly sitting in the middle with his ears flying back in the breeze of all the open windows.  Shadow was riding with me in her royal carriage of (the allergic alternative to Down) featherbeds with the entire back of the car to herself.  I have about mastered the art of driving, watching traffic ahead, and simultaneously making sure my children are following me.  When they drive badly, though, things tend to go downhill.

When I noticed My Oldest Baby weaving, I slowed down, as did he.  But then he was leaning down, Jack had disappeared, and I was asking, out loud, with some very bad language, what was going on.  Shadow was looking at me with an expression that clearly said "I don't know what your problem is, but I had nothing to do with it.  I'm just laying here minding my own business."   That was about the time he straight up crossed the center line and all I said was "That is IT!" and pulled over to the side of the road.  

It had rained, a lot, the night before.  Storms had moved across the entire state.  When My Oldest Son pulled over behind me, the right front wheel dropped into the ditch, the entire truck settled in for what looked to be a good long nap, my son's head dropped forward in defeat, and both dogs were standing up, tails wagging, ready for their next adventure.  I was happy nothing too bad had happend.  Being stuck is not too bad.  It's happened to me more than once, and being stuck is not a huge problem in this world.

We examined the situation, decided to use one of the (allergic alternative to Down) featherbeds as traction, and then proceeded to rock that truck back and forth, getting what looked to me more stuck with each pass.  Mud was flying front and back, alternatively, and Jack's mind was blown as he tried to stay out of the floor board because the noise of the wheels spinning scared him.  I'm trying to sooth him as I wonder how exactly you blow a transmition, because I'm thinking that will be the next thing that happens to us.  About that time we were rescued by a man name of Mike, who stopped, had a chain, and opened with a joke about a Dodge pulling out a GMC.  He was a great and kind man, gently explaining that there was no good place to attach the chain, and if we were all right with losing a bumper, he would try to gently guide the truck out of the ditch.  We were ok with that, and we got the truck out of the ditch without losing a bumper.  So thank you Mike!  We forgot to take a picture, but My Youngest Baby was now covered in mud from head to toe, and I am pretty sure I have more gray hairs than before that day.  The good news is that my constant harping on what can happen when you "just drop a wheel off the shoulder" has gained some serious street cred and the kids have stopped rolling their eyes when I quiz them about various mechanical aspects before they leave on trips.  Have you checked your oil?  Tire pressure?  Spare?  Do you have a blanket?  Water?  Something to eat?  Extra clothes?  Extra boots?  Gloves?  Map?  Poison Ivy Lotion?  Allergy pills?  You get the drift.  Kids seem to think mothers enjoy asking these questions.  That is not true.  In truth it is exhausting, and should we forget something it is sure to be our fault because we forgot to ask.  It's not fair at all and sometimes a kid needs to be stuck and covered with mud along a semi-busy highway before they start to realize that there is a point to being harangued by their mother after all.  Extra points to you if you can manage to be WITH your child when this happens.  Those memories don't just make themselves, ya know.

At this point it was decided that both dogs would ride with me, as Jack was apparently the reason for all the weaving.  Within the next half hour I inadvertantly rolled poor Jack's head up in the back window, and then did some weaving of my own as I frantically punched buttons trying to free him before he choked to death.  If it's not one thing it's another, don't you find that to be true?  After that, poor Jack seemed not to be hurt except for his feelings, and curled up in a ball in the very back, facing away from me.  I felt terrible, but we made it home safe and sound.  It brought to mind this post, in which Kelsey asked if it was worse to text and drive or parent and drive.  My answer is PARENT AND DRIVE, Kels!  You can turn your phone off, after all.  Not so with children or pets.

After that I could settle down, and in thinking about how good it was to see everyone, and to see the boys there to share that time with their friends, it brought this poem to mind, by Ernest Dowson:

They are not long, the weeping and the laughter,

Love and desire and hate:

I think they have no portion in us after

We pass the gate.

They are not long, the days of wine and roses:

Out of a misty dream

Our path emerges for awhile, then closes

Within a dream.

With all the roses blooming and all the love and joy around, it seemed only fitting to make some Rose Petal Jam, so I did.  The recipe is within the link, and I highly recommend it. It is absolutely wonderful, as well as beautiful, and it doesn't take much time to do, either, once you pinch the white parts out of your petals.  For me, spending awhile touching rose petals and sorting them out was my favorite part except for hearing the lids pop.

A warm bath for you, my pretties.......

See how pretty they are just in the pan?  Blogger is having issues with me uploading pictures today, so I can't show you what they look like after this, but they will lose their color.  Do not worry, it will come back as soon as you add the lemon juice.

Eye appeal, check.

This is the finished product.  It tastes as good as it looks, and how could you not take advantage of all those petals, just sitting their waiting for a practical purpose to their lives?  They aren't just pretty faces, ya know.  They have worth that goes way beyond that.

I'm listening to more lids pop right now, having been up late with dearly beloved friends, some of which spent the night, and up early this morning getting them all sent off for their days.  I'm good like that.

Just some of the boys er, men in my life.  Some have been in my life longer than others. Okay, ONE.  Some are new.  All are cherished, 3 of them since the day they were born.  Guess which 3.

Next I am going to see about using the rose petals to make jelly, and you can find that recipe here.  For the price of the sugar and some lemons, why not?  And next spring I am going to try to catch the Violets in time, too, as this recipe works for several edible flowers listed at the bottom of that post.

They are not long, these days of wine and roses...........The jam and jelly that I am making during these days will be my handmade gift this year.  I hope it has been infused with all the love our family has seen and commemorated this weekend.  The memories these boys share with us, their parents, span what I hope they always remember as the best years of their lives.  Those years have certainly been some of the best years of my own.  Thank you, boys, for all the nights no one slept, the empty cans of chewing tobacco, the 16,000 firecracker stunt, the firsts, the lasts, the list of foods I make that are, according to you, "the best", and the yet to happen.   Make the most of every day you have and you will always have a good life, even when you are stuck on the side of the road.  I will try to be with you when that happens, but you really don't need me, at least for that, any more.  There will be other things, no doubt, and we will get through those too.  Never doubt it.  Knock 'em dead, kid, you graduate, you.  The world is lucky to have you.

Picking Your Battles............

Being a mother is not for the faint of heart.  It's a job that does not come with weekends, days off, or vacation.  It's a job that calls for decisions that are often deemed heartless by one's own offspring.  Sometimes you just have to stand your ground and wait for enough time to pass that they see the reasoning behind your "heartlessness" and thank you for it.  It's a tricky dance to ensure that your child is well taken care of, healthy, and happy.

In fact, happy is usually the hardest part. You spend a lot of time second guessing yourself, and sometimes it takes years before you know you did, or did not do, the right thing.

What makes our children happy sometimes breaks our hearts, scares us to death, enrages us, and can even drive us to despair.

Don't get worried, I am just talking about a shirt.  You would not think that just a shirt could put anyone through such anguish, unless you were a mother.

All my children had blankies as babies that gradually fell apart by the time the children were about 3.

I saved these blankies faithfully, even when there were only shreds of them left.

I felt it was the right thing to do.

Now, I know it was the right thing to do.  If you have ever seen your child's face light up when they see a long lost "friend" such as this, you know what I'm talking about.  If you haven't yet seen this, save the crap they love, even if it's gross.  Just do the best you can.  They can throw it away if they want.  It's theirs to throw, all in good time.

How could I throw away something my babies loved?

Throw away part of their security?  NEVER!

I carefully saved and packed away those blankies, or what was left of them, packed in plastic bags so that no bugs, no mold, no bad smells, would desecrate what meant so much to my children.

Lately, however, this particular battle has come back around to haunt me.

I offer the prosecution's exhibit 1.

I don't think this picture does justice to how bad of a shape this poor sweatshirt is in.

It used to be white.

It came into my youngest babies life when he was in 7th grade.

He wore it MUCH.

That was 5 years ago.

It's been through a lot with him.

Possibly the most important years of his life.

I have wrestled with getting rid of it for at least 3 years now.

He loves this sweatshirt as much as he loved his blankie when he was small.

Here is another shot against an off-white washing machine.

It certainly was worth whatever money I spent on it, I must admit.

Especially considering I undoubtedly bought it at a garage sale or a second hand shop.

But.

It's lost it's shape.  It's a dingy gray now, no matter how much I bleach it, add baking soda to the laundry.

Oxiclean has no effect.

I've tried everything except dying it.

I draw the line here because 1) It might upset his delicate emotional balance as it relates to this shirt, and 2) I usually make a terrible mess of things like that and would probably end up with odd splotches of color for months on good clothes.

Believe me, it would happen.

It's lost it's shape.

It's cuffs are torn and tattered.

It hangs on him like a rag.

It has been a really good shirt.  Hollister, my hat is off to you.  Salute!

People might well think it has survived a terrible fire, barely.

I could not blame them for drawing this conclusion, but they would be wrong.

I would feel better if it had survived a terrible fire.

At least that would be a reasonable explanation.

It is getting too embarrassing for me to allow him to wear it anymore.

Can you see my point here?

I mean, I know he loves this shirt.

He has worn it without interruption except for the one time I tried to throw it away, about 2 years ago.

He found it in the trash and told me in no uncertain terms that it was his favorite sweatshirt and he could not live without it.

Could. Not. LIVE.

He felt betrayed that I had thrown it away.

I felt terrible.  I had betrayed him by throwing it away.  I was a bad mom!

But not as terrible as I did when he wore it to school..........

"What must people think of me?" I wondered.  The ego never dies, even if all you have left that you really care about is your laundry skills.  Menopause, the great apathetic state that can be soothing at times.

So when we moved I did not have the heart to throw it away again.

I saw it in the laundry the first week we were here.

 I lobbed that sucker up on top of a pile of cleaning rags in the laundry room.

I had peace of mind for about 2 weeks.

2 weeks that my poor Youngest Baby was frantic looking for his favorite sweatshirt.

He finally decided he had lost it in the move.  Or so I thought.

I thought I had won that battle.  

I consoled myself with the knowledge that I could give it back to him after he had acclimated himself to wearing the many good, warm, unstained, untorn sweatshirts that he has.  In his closet.  Anxiously waiting their turn to get to be worn.

They deserve a turn!!

It is a testament to either his love for this damn thing or just his stubborn, single-minded devotion to all things HIS that he looked until he found it.

I can assure you, he has never surveyed the rag pile before.

I had not won that battle.

I am such a fool.

So tonight, when I found it in the laundry again, (Drat!  Foiled again!) I said

"Youngest Baby?  This sweatshirt........I don't care if you keep it, but could you not wear it anymore?"

This brought a hearty round of laughter from the boys around my kitchen table playing the Magic game.

(The Magic game is some kind of game played with cards.....probably just as bad as video games but not video games, which puts me on the side of the Magic game.)

My Youngest Baby looked hurt.  My heart broke a little more.

His friends said they knew which shirt I spoke of.

They said he wore it to school.  My face got red.

I said it looked like orphan's rags.

He said that shirt had been through a lot with him.

I said I understood.

But then I begged him not to wear it in public anymore.

It's a work shirt, I said.

It's a perfect shirt to work on the car, or burn leaves, I said.

"If I can find another shirt exactly like it?  Would you quit wearing it then?"  I bargained.

He agreed to that.

So now I have a mission.  Possibly an impossible one.

I don't want my Youngest Baby to be unhappy.

I also cannot stand the embarrassment of him wearing this shirt in public ever again.

But I do not have the heart to make that happen because it would hurt him too much.

For whatever reason, this shirt has taught me a lesson.

I am not nearly as tough as I like to pretend.

Oh, I can talk the talk.

I can talk it all day long.

In fact, I am pretty convincing.

But my babies are just as sentimental as I am, and I am proud of that.

In the end, embarrassed as I am that people either think I'm so poor my children have to wear the same clothes endlessly for 5 years at a time, or that I never wash their clothes (which of those 2 things are worse, exactly???) I am a big, old, push over.

At least when it comes to my babies and the things (disgusting as they may sometimes be) that mean a lot to them.

I am not heartless, and this is a good thing.

But do you think people know that?  Or do they just think I'm filthy?

Does this really matter?

No.

All that matters is that I have finally found a way to compromise.

My youngest baby gets to keep the shirt.

In fact, I may frame it.

At least that way he won't wear it anymore.

What's a mother to do when her child's heart is involved?

It's just a shirt.  What's left of a shirt.

Much more bleach and it will surely disintegrate, right?  But that would kill him.

I guess I will look for a frame, and another sweatshirt just like it.

Things I Had Forgotten....

When I was 32 years old, I had an 8 year old boy, a 5 year old girl, and a new set of twin boys.  I adjusted.  You keep adjusting.  Funny how quickly you can forget some things.

This last week has brought back many things to me that I had forgotten.

    How wonderful to pick a baby up in the morning and have her point to the sky with one arm wrapped around my neck and make her little morning noises.

   How old clothes can be magical outfit with the imagination of a small child.

                                               

   How sometimes you get a God wink in a sack of potatoes.

    How hard it is to find something heavy enough to keep the top of a tent anchored, but not heavy enough to hurt you if it falls.

                          How jealous siblings can get.  Yowsa.

What it's like to be wearing a black turtleneck in a public place, see the baby focus on your neck/shoulder area, very carefully pick off a piece of goldfish, eat it, and realize you have been walking around for at least an hour with half eaten food stuck to your clothes.  No one said a word.  But then I hang with older folk.  Perhaps they didn't see it.........

   How getting up early and staying up late are more profound when you have little ones, who depend on you for their very lives, safely sleeping peacefully in their beds.

   How precious it is to have 20 minutes to yourself.

  How you can do anything when little ones depend on you, even if that means digging your car out of a snow drift with nothing but an ice scraper and a lot of gas.  "You're making the snow FLY!" said Abigail.  I think she was impressed with my skillz.  lol  Some day I will take her mudding, so she can learn to really drive.

   How good Popsicle are!  Dang!  Life is too short not to have them, really.

    How heavy diaper bags are!

   How hard it is to remember everything that goes in the diaper bag.

   How amazing a perfume atomizer is--even without perfume.

   How dirty diapers often smell like the last thing the baby ate.  Ugh.

   How much I hate car seats.

  How precious life is and how quickly a catastrophe can happen if you don't remember to keep the house safe at all times.  

  How exciting it can be just to get out of the house for a few minutes when you have been trapped in there for 3 days.

    How special it makes you feel it is to see a baby recognize you and smile all over themselves.

  How long I can snort into a child's neck making them laugh from their belly.   Looong time. :D  They always get tired of it before I do.

   How annoying it is when your bath water gets cold and how little it costs to warm it up so you can get the baby in bed before you get the 5 year old out of the tub.

  How much water does not stay in the tub when 5 year old's take baths unsupervised for even 3 minutes.

   How hard it is to get little shoes on little feet without the seam of the sock "hurting".

    How important it is to look at someone when you are listening to them.

    How much your back hurts when you have to get out of bed, again, and all you want to do is sleep.

   How easy it is to feed little ones with eggs, milk and fruit.

   How nice it is to see you practically grown and normally completely self absorbed teenage boys stop to listen to a made up story by a little girl, and take it seriously.

   How hard it is to say you miss your mom when you don't want to hurt your Mimi's feelings, and how little girls will often orchestrate situations just so they can cry for awhile.

    How fast time passes, and how everything you do counts, one way or the other.

   How much fun flash lights can be.

   How hard it is to clip baby fingernails.  ARG!

   How much more fun it is to do laundry when it's full of polka dotted leggings and footie pajamas.

  The agony of brushing out long hair.

How easy it is to let dishes set to do more important things.

   How good it feels to get a break of a few hours.  I think that might be the best thing about being a grandparent: the happiness to see them come; the happiness to see them go.

   How diplomatic and sensitive young children can be.
Me: Abigail, do you remember (so-and-so)"
Abigail: Is she wrinkly?
Me: uh.................(realizing that what she is to polite to say is "how old is she?  Is she my age or is she your age (wrinkly)".
I swear to God I had to answer this at least 5 times, more cautiously each time.

  It's easy to forget.  Sometimes we all need reminding, and there are so many parents who need the break even if only for a few hours.  Look around, see what you can do.  You might be surprised how precious what you get back can be.

I wouldn't have missed it for the world.  I am forever in the debt of my Bonus Daughter for these wonderful days and nights of remembering, practicing and pretending.  I never plan to stop, and it will keep on going long after I'm gone.  I'm making sure of it.

   

The Queen of Darkness

Today I actually got Abigail's hair brushed without tears on her part or mine, and french braided all the way down.

When I was done I turned her around to discover I had missed on strand on each side of her hair that was just hanging down from the top of her head to below her shoulders.  Was my face red.  I asked her to let me re-do it.  I actually begged her, several times, but no, she liked it.  I had had all the time I was going to get with her hair for this day.

So we went uptown and visited some friends and I had to explain that my french braiding skills were suffering.  My hair dresser, kind soul that she is, even said I did a really good job.  I gave myself a C- and explained the problem with tears and wailing (on both sides) that accompanied brushing Abigail's long, beautiful hair out.

What happened next?  My very clever and kind hair dresser said she had a magic brush that did not hurt tangles!!!  She, also having very long and beautiful hair, swore that it just "went over" the tangles without getting stuck, but it got them out.  This magical item is called The Wet Brush and can be gotten at Creative Edge for only $12.  I promptly bought one for Abigail's mother as a Valentine's present.  

Abigail allowed me to take out her braid as soon as we got home and proceeded to brush her OWN hair for 20 minutes, without any tangles or crying or gnashing of teeth or anything.  It was like a miracle!!!

Back home, I settled the girls in the Princess room with the baby happily looking out the window and Abigail arranging stuffed animals in the cradle.  I went into the kitchen to start lunch and just as I was thinking they had been quiet a long time, I heard the door shut.  Any mother will tell you that gives you a bad feeling.  So I go back down the hall, knock and stick my head in.  The scene had changed.  The blind was now down, the baby was still on the bed, now happily pointing a flashlight around and babbling.  I look down at Abigail, and I don't know why I whispered, probably because it was dark?
"What's going on?" I whispered.
Abigail, busily putting on a pair of my boots that come all the way up her little legs, looks up at me with big blue eyes and whispers back , "I'm being the Queen of Darkness."
I look back up, everything seems fine, and I have left water running in the sink in the kitchen, so I whisper "Okay", and shut the door with no more questions.

Back in the kitchen, laughing to myself, I contemplated  who the Queen of Darkness was.  I had no clue whatsoever.  So when I went back to check, it's a girl in a pretty cool get-up, black boots, a sun hat, and a boa in Mardi Gras colors, who rides tigers in the dark, with her friend the bear.  We had watched Brother Bear II the night before.  I decided that in my house, the Queen of Darkness is Abigail Lea, and she is a good person, especially in the dark.

This was the only shot I got--I can't do everything you know. lol

By 6 pm that evening we were both losing our minds, so I went out with her to play in the snow.  Winters are hard with little ones.  People get cabin fever.  We have ample snow, in fact, we got 13 inches last week.  This week we got a bit of freezing rain and a little more snow on top.  Before that, she sunk in up to her knees and she did not like that.  Just as Abigail was discovering that she could now walk across the yard on top of the frozen rain layer, I pointed out the full, orange moon coming up in the sky.  It was magic.  She said it was "the best night EVER."  I had to agree.  The fresh air did us both good.

I don't think she had ever gotten to play in the snow in the dark before, and she happily climbed a 5 foot high pile of snow next to the driveway and slid down the other side until she was tired.  God bless children who get tired in about a half hour.

After that, a warm bubble bath and a movie she went to sleep early.  I did not plan it.  I was just going with the flow.  I realized that I had adjusted back to the schedule of "being home", where there is no set schedule, just a lot of frantic movement and the bare necessities getting "done".  I decided to enjoy it as much as I could because it would be gone before I knew it.  I watched her sleep, as I have since she was 3 weeks old, and marveled at how she has grown so fast.  I thought about all the things she won't remember that I will never forget.  I told her that she was going to be going through a lot of changes, and I would still love her through them all.  Even the snotty, eye rolling teenage stage and the rebellious years that would follow.  She was sure she would never act that way, but I know better.

I had forgotten how hectic, hard, and rewarding it was to have little kids all the time.  I had forgotten a lot of things.

I know it was harder on their mom mentally than it was on me physically.  I also know that for me, at least, it was worth it.

Tomorrow they go home, and life will go back to normal around here, minus most of the magic.  Time to get back to real life.  Children last such a very short time.  It's a shame you have to raise a few before you realize how fast time really does go.

On the upside of things, though, I am ready to be a grandma for real.

Luckily, I have the room all ready to go.  We will be adding another one in June.  That's right!!!

I have a grand DAUGHTER on the way.  

Things I Don't Want To Forget.....

We are road tripping to South Missouri today.  Here is something that I wanted to jot down from last week though, just so I don't forget.

The twins' best friend, the boy who I call my 4th son, recently got his driver's license.

He came over very pumped because his step dad had let him drive his truck.  The boys all wanted to go "riding around".  I said that would be fine.  I watched them excitedly climb into the truck and thought how much easier this gets, as a parent.  When my first son got to be this age I think my soul physically left my body to follow him.  I could feel it.  I was so worried and conscious of his being "gone", "out there alone".....what if something happened?  What if he needed me and I wasn't there?  What if I wasn't even thinking of him and therefore missed the psychic warnings all mother's can receive?  I went through hell, but had only myself to blame.  I don't know why I worried so much, certainly no because my oldest son warranted it.  I think all mother's do it, at least with the first one.  We can't help it.  That's just the way it is.

I smiled, sighed, and felt no worry what-so-ever, thinking how much easier this was now, and went in the house to find my book. 

Five minutes later the boys were back, looking dejected.

"What's the matter boys?" I asked.

Fourth son replied "Well, we wanted to go to McDonald's, but there isn't enough gas in the truck and I'm afraid we'll run it out of gas."

They all looked very sad.

"Hmm.  Well, you want to take my car?" I asked.  Their faces all lit up, and my own son's eyes got big.

"You would let us do that???" My youngest baby said, incredulously.  I thought how sad it was to see my own children be so surprised that I would offer this.  I thought about how I wanted to change that.  It's like I got on a certain track, with 4 children, where all the rules were written in stone and now I only had 2 left at home.  My last two, who would never dream that their mean mom would let them take the car.  It broke my heart, and I really don't expect anyone who is not a mother to understand that.  I can't explain it any better either.  Maybe it's time to let that "everything equal" thing slide a little.  Yes.  It felt like time.  It felt right, and it was really such a small thing.

"Well, yeah!  You've got your license, don't you?" I said.

They all jumped up, in joy, I do believe, and then Fourth son asked "How much gas do you have in your car"?  How quickly they learn, I thought, and couldn't help but laugh.  It was a great question, and he had already learned to look ahead and make sure he was prepared.

I laughed and said "Plenty!  And don't worry, I'm fully insured.  Be careful, but don't worry."

"I got insurance on me too, Melinda!" Fourth son exclaimed, on his way to the car with the keys in his hand.  He has always been like a little old man.  Of all the boy's friends, it was always him that would just sit down and start talking to you like an equal.  He is very polite and very open, not intimidated like so many adolescents are.  The first time I ever asked him what kind of bike I should get for the boys he sat down and told me what kind and why, and reminded me of my grandfather talking about Chevrolet cars.  We've been friends ever since!  

They all thanked me and climbed into the car.

There followed a period of adjusting seats, rolling down windows, and most importantly of all, radio selection.  They were very excited.  I think they were seeing their future's rolling out before their eyes, just like I was while I watched them.  My babies are taking the car, and I am not having a heart attack, I thought.  It was surreal, but I knew it was really happening.

I watched them as they carefully pulled out, all the windows down, every boy with one arm out their respective windows.  The car picked up speed, but not too much, and the volume came up, but not too much, and away they went.  Just 3 young men out on the town, seeing what's up and who's out and about.

I thought again how much easier this has gotten.  This time I'm ready.  The first time it sent me into panic and tears.  I tried very hard to hold those years back, to somehow make time stand still.  I failed at that, and did a lot of kicking and screaming and protesting, to no avail.

Now I have given up fights I can't win and learned to go with the flow.  I don't expect it to ever be pain free, but it does get easier.  Practice always makes perfect, if you do it enough.  Letting go can be just as hard as holding on, it's all in the timing.  I think I've finally got it down.

Iheartradio, we need to talk.....

One of the things I have done to take back control over my life is limit what I listen to in my daily life.  I turned off the news years ago but was still surrounded with some very strange stuff that also made me crazy on the radio.  So I started being very careful about where I keep my dial tuned.  It has improved my life dramatically.  Actually, that's an understatement.

One of my favorite things in this battle is Iheartradio.com. It's a free music service, where you give them a general idea of what you like and they just keep throwing stuff at you to judge whether you like it or not. If you like it, it plays again. If you don't like it, it never plays again.  I mean never.  The best part, though, is that there are no commercials or idiot DJ's to make you crazy.  In case those things have that affect on you, that is.

Everything was going really good until I decided to "make" a station called Orleans, after the soft rock group you may or may not remember.  Whether you remember them or not, I'm sure you know the song Still The One.  This is a basic idea of what I was looking for.  I guess because they were popular in the 70's, the powers that be go by the genre and the time period to throw more stuff at you.  If you are picky about your music, this may make you crazy anyway.

I had always known was picky about music, but I like so many different kinds that I doubted this would be much of a problem.  Always the optimist, that's me.  Not really, just seeing if you are paying attention. So I "made" my Orleans station and it threw out the Bee Gees, Bob Seger, Gordon Lightfoot, Van Morrison, Carole King, the list goes on, but all were good with me. I "liked" them all.  THEN it started throwing Linda Rondstat at me.  I down arrowed her.  The first time I didn't think much about it.  But it kept throwing more at me.  I down arrowed them ALL and I realized a couple of things.

1)  I am not a Linda Rondstat fan.  I never knew this before.  She can sing, don't get me wrong. She has a great voice and great control. It's just that her songs........well, her songs get on my nerves.  All of them.  You have to be in a certain mood for almost all of them.  They are all so intense, they wear me out.   Take You're No Good, for instance, please! Been there, done that, done WITH that, quite your whining, Linda, suck it up and move forward like the rest of us have. Probably your friends and family knew it all along!   I guess I'm just never in those kinds of moods anymore. I lack the energy and have learned that this, too, shall pass.  But Iheartradio did not seem to be getting the hint.  It's not about the songs, it's about the artist, and I am here to tell you, Iheartradio, I am not a fan of Linda, so you can quit putting both herself and I through this embarrassing rejection.  Enough already!

Which leads us to:

2) that there were only about 3 women who were even singing (successfully) at that time.   Besides Linda (cringe) and Carole King (give her to me all day long) they started throwing Melissa Manchester at me. Now, I had actually forgotten all about Melissa, who also can sing very well, but does not "do" it for me. Never did, never will.  I may have forgotten about her, but I can say that I never even knew she sang so many songs!  I was exhausted before I got them all down arrowed, and in desperation I just "made" another station.   It turned out pretty much the way you would expect.  Some good, a whole lot of bad (at least to me), and a few that I had forgotten about.  You might be saying "Couldn't they have thrown in some Heart?" Good idea, just a few years too early.  

The worst thing is that never, NEVER do they play some of the best songs that an artist ever did, if they were not commercially successful.  Take Jackson Browne, for instance. I "made" a Jackson Browne station, but do you think Sky Blue and Black ever came up?  Maybe Fountain of Sorrow?   NO! Know what did?  Lawyers In Love! GIVE ME A BREAK IHEARTRADIO!!! I KNOW YOU ARE JUST A BUNCH OF KIDS GOING OFF TOP 40 LISTS AND HAVE NO IDEA WHO HE EVEN IS!!

So, now that I have outed Iheartradio, and every other music program I have tried, I will give you some advice: ITUNES, baby!  Go to Itunes, find your music, and it is there for you forever. You can make playlists or play it anyway you want, all day long.  Yes, you have to pay for it, but only once and it is WORTH it!  You can also make any kind of CD you want once you have the music.  My boys have memorized their favorite CD's of mine, whose titles are "Trip To The Zoo" or "Summer 2010" or "Mellow" or "STRAIGHT UP ROCK" or, more sensibly "The Mills Brothers".  OK, not the Mills Brothers.  If you are below the age of 50 I doubt you even know who the Mills Brothers are and I will tell you that they won't be found on Itunes.  They are probably a bunch of kids also.  You have to go to Youtube for The Mills Brothers, but it's free and they are a classic.

What I will say for Iheartradio is that it's a nice change, if you work in a metal building and all your radio will pull in is the local station that is nothing but Top 40 (or perhaps 20) syndication.  That crap about drove me to riot in the streets before I took control and got back in charge of what my head was filled with.  The twins still want to listen to that station, and any time I turn it on, they automatically start singing along, no matter what song is playing, like Pavlovian dogs.  It's kind of scary.

I still felt kind of bad about it until I heard a commercial, when the twins were in the car, by a very deep voice telling us all about the wonders of testosterone enhancement.  I don't know who might need testosterone enhancement, probably older men?  But I was terrified that it might seem like a great choice for teenage boys.......  That was it for me. I know things are tough all over, but when you have to stoop to accepting money to run commercials like that (and I do feel for you, my brothers, but perhaps you could consider you programming?  Good programming could lead to better advertisers?  Just a thought.), you are on your own.  I am done mindlessly driving along while my blood pressure rises listening to bad music and worse life choices presented as if they are sane, which they are not, to people who don't even have enough sense to turn the station.  All this zombie talk is not about nothing, you know.  They are real, just not in the way they are being portrayed by the entertainment industry to part you from your hard earned dollars.   And they are everywhere!

I am frequently tuned into American Family Radio (AFR), found in this area at 91.5, which is Christian based talk radio.  There is no music here, but it's a really good source if you want to know what is actually going on in the world as opposed to who won on American Idol last night, which seems to be being discussed on *some* radio stations as if it were actually news.  Perhaps, to some of America, it is.  If you would like to give it a try you might want to prepare yourself beforehand, depending on where you usually get your news.  In any case, I can pretty much guarantee that you will be aware of things at least 2 weeks before the so-called "press" mentions them, if ever.  Oh, and your children will never hear anything you wish they wouldn't. I promise!  At night they often have sermons that just last about 30 minutes.

One evening, I turned it on as I was making my piles of bills to go through, and I just sent up a prayer that consisted simply of "Lord, you know my needs".  I sent that prayer at the same instant I turned on the radio, which was turned to AFR, and I immediately heard a deep voice with a Texas twang say "and stay tuned for our next segment on What To Do When Thinking About The Future Is Making You Depressed".  I laughed out loud and looked up and was floored because that was exactly what my "need" was at that moment!  Sometimes I feel like He doesn't answer prayers, but this time there really could be no doubt.  I was so very glad that I had heard that instead of a song about some kind of sexual practice or other!

That is how low the bar has fallen, folks.  If you haven't faced that yet, I suggest you listen closely to what is constantly playing in the background of your world.  It's the background of your life.  Choose freely but choose wisely.  Especially if you have kids.

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.

Sparkles and Sprinkles

Since Christmas was so strung out this year, this post covers a lot of time.  It was not all spent crying over the trashcan and coming late to the realization that your kids have left home...........5 years ago.  hahaha

Our house was visited by the amazing Abigail for a few days recently and I must say she adds a lot of sparkle.  Literally.  She came equipped with silver sequined boots and silver glitter ballet slippers.  To see those sparkly things in the pile of size 12 sneakers did my heart a world of good.  She came along at a time when I really needed her and has gotten me through some dark days.  (Ok-years.....but you see how perfectly it all works out?  And now another baby girl will be following in her footsteps.  I'm simply not the type to turn bedrooms into closets for myself.  I come from different stock, a more welcoming and less self-obsessed kind. ;)  No telling how long I can stave off the realization that the twins are gone before I have to face that, this way!  See?  There is a method to my madness.)

Adriana...you can see she is coming along beautifully

Her boots and shoes were only compliments to the rest of her wardrobe, which consisted of lots of tulle ruffles, sequined skirts and glitter leggings.  The dogs were the most thrilled of all.  Not only did she sparkle, but she moves a lot more than any human they have ever seen in the house.  A lot more.  They faithfully followed her everywhere she went and the three of them had a really great time playing a version of "the floor is made of lava".  This is what they did while Mimi tried to figure out how to get the video game player to play a movie......for 30 minutes......while she had one of the twins on the phone telling her exactly what to push on the controller.  He finally just had to come home, as his mother is so unfamiliar with controllers that it never occurred to her there are buttons on the front of the thing.  I couldn't even figure out what the buttons on top were supposed to do.  I'm proud of that, in the big picture.  Video games are one evil I have completely avoided.  It figures that I would pay the price when all I wanted to do was watch a simple video.  You say technology has advanced.  I say it's advanced right into the sewer, that's what I say.

So I let her open a Christmas present early.

Apron by Cheryl Arnold Craig of Cheryl's Sewing, Unionville, MO.  You can find her on FB or at    her blog

I think it is as adorable as she is in it!  We got to work right away.  I had several things already mixed up and ready to dip or bake, and we did both.

You always have make sure it's "fit ta eat"

We also had nice talks about who she was, as she is a big sister now.  She is not a baby anymore, but she is MY baby (her blue eyes looked up for confirmation at this, which I gave with alacrity).  She is a kid, not a big kid, though.  A little big kid, or as she put it "a widdle big kid".  She is just at the age where she still can't say some things and I try to hang onto these days especially hard.  It was interesting to see how she sees herself, not to mention me.  I know full well that the days when she knows everything already are just waiting a little ways ahead, so I intend to remember every one of these sweeter ones while I can.  Guess what else I got her?  I had to smile when I clean Mackenzie's room...remember the angel wings?  Without remembering them I had gotten Abigail some this year.  She loved them. 

She isn't into posing for pictures...yet.  I think that's Jack in the background, asking if she's going to eat that...

4 year old's simply tell you the most amazing things.  All true, nothing censored,  from their point of view.  You would be surprised at some of the things you learn, you should talk to one today.

She achieved Master Sprinkler status in a few hours, as she has so much sprinkling to do she had bottles in both hands, sprinkling for all she was worth.

Putting sprinkles into a cup gives you a nice mixture of red and green because let's face it:  who can ever decide between them?  And why should we have to choose?

My Bonus Daughter, her mom, sweet thing that she is, insisted we go "do something" during the week I had off.  This is one of the things I love most about my bonus daughter--she actually thinks of me and is willing to do whatever it takes to spend time with me.  She spreads sparkles wherever she goes, just like her daughter.  We met at high noon at a bowling alley and bowled a game.  We all had a great time, even though we are by no stretch of the imagination great bowlers.  It had been entirely too long since we had eaten at a bowling alley, too, as real bacon cheeseburgers and tenderloins were to be had for very reasonable prices.  It was a good day!

She is also young enough to grab up the camera and takes lots of pictures without focusing up our noses.  Just one skill I covet.....

My youngest baby is multi-talented: baby holding and keeping score simultaneously.

Everybody got plenty of practical and appreciated gifts, me included.  I got the warmest, softest new robe and slippers from the kids, which kept me all warm and snuggly, and this necklace I got for myself.  I LOVE it!

By ReBlinged.  You can find them on FB also.  They take vintage items and give them new life.  This is my version of a mother's ring.

I don't know if you remember or not but I vowed that my presents would be hand made this year at some point.  I did not say they would be hand-made by me, so the apron and the necklace still count.   But I did pretty good with what skills I have to work with and little time.  

We made LOTS of candy.  By far the most popular were the peanut butter balls.  Take 24 Nutter Butter cookies and crush 'em.  Mix with 8 oz. cream cheese, roll into balls, throw the balls in the freezer and then dip them in chocolate or almond bark.  Very good.  Tip: try to keep the balls small.  I have no patience and as a result my truffles ended up taking four bites to finish.  Two bites is about right.

It looks great, doesn't it?  None of it was hard.  Check out Kraftfoods.com and you too will feel like a wizard in the kitchen.  (Even if you didn't get a Snuggie-but if you did--watch the sleeves!)

I smashed the cookies by myself!

And in the interest of trying to survive without being able to get into a Dr., I came up with this:

Everybody went crazy for this stuff. * Some of them were actually  sick.

I found this on the blog http://HomesteadingSurvivalism.com, which I will have on my blog list soon.  They are redoing their website presently.  Check them out.  I  really like them.   For this I just cut up 2 lemons and about 2 finger-lengths of ginger root and then fill the jar with honey.  You are supposed to let it set, stirring each day until the honey and citrus makes a jelly.  Take a spoon or two of the jelly, add boiling water, and you have a tea that will help you when you are sick with a cold or flu. It's wonderful!  You can also add some whiskey for an actual  Hot Toddy.  I finally figure that one out!  One of the recipients was so sick that he did not bother with making the tea, or even the Hot Toddy, and just ate it by the spoonful.  He reported that it helped a lot and wanted more in just a few days.  I found some pint jars on sale and it was a hit.

My list for hand made (by me) presents is growing for next year.  Next year I will be ready!!  I know I've said it before but this time I think it's really going to happen.  Between the candy, cookies, remedy's and easy little projects that even I can do, it's going to happen.  After this, our memories will be about time spent together, good food and drinks, and the time we spent, instead of who got what.  It's not a competition and whatever you get someone, the worth should rest in the fact that it's from you instead of what it is.  This checking boxes off of lists stuff has got to stop.  I have grown up, so much so that there is no longer any question.  What a relief.  I think the days of questioning myself are finally over, happily, and it feels really good to know where I stand.  So much of our youth is spent thinking we know what we think and then being slapped right upside the face with a complete and total opposite truth that we just hadn't lived long enough to learn yet.  Young people, this is how people can stand to get old.  It's like a soap opera, we have simply seen it all before.  It's pretty hard to scare us, if you want to know the truth.

I'm done with Christmas being more about presents than it is about Christ.  I'm done with people who say Happy Holidays.  You could say that on Veterans Day!  I'm done spending money I don't have for things people don't want, need, or like.  How much stuff do you need to have before you have "enough" anyway?  That is a question we should all ask ourselves, and if you still feel greedy after that, just think about how much you will have to "maintain" or "dust" this "stuff".   Is it so precious to you that little kids can't be in your house?  Isn't it going to get broken or be obsolete with a few years?  What is the point of that crap anyway? The days when your children are small pass quickly, however hard that may be for you to believe now.  They will remember the times together, messes, blow ups, and all, and they will remember it as the best times of their lives, regardless of the "stuff" they get.  Treasure the days when they like the box better than anything that could be inside, and make sure they hang onto that bit of wisdom that they are here to teach you.