Wishful Thinking

A Stopping Place

2007-11-14T08:26:00.001-05:00

With any relationship, there comes a time when you must part ways. So it is with Blogger.

So many of my readers have complained that my blogger site crashes their computer, that I've started a temporary site over at Wordpress.com.

I will not delete this blog, but all new posts will be at

gosduck.wordpress.com

Please update your links, and I can't wait to see everyone again!

Seeing Red

2007-11-12T12:46:00.000-05:00

“Look at those beautiful leaves!” I said, admiring the contrast of the sky’s clear, sharp blue against the red maples. “We should be outside today, not driving. It’s too beautiful,” I told my husband, who was in the passenger seat.

He looked at me blankly.

“Don’t you think the leaves are gorgeous?” I asked, surprised at his noncommittal response.

Read on at Crunchable.

Serious Blogger Issues

2007-11-09T16:59:00.001-05:00

I have not fallen off the face of the Earth, I promise. It's just that Blogger is being ... difficult. And then some.

And apparently, no one can read my site, because it keeps crashing computers.

Please bear with me while I do my best to fix things.

Thanks!

"Friday Finds"

2007-10-26T00:00:00.000-04:00

I am totally stealing this week's Friday Find from my buddy Shannon. On Wednesday, she put up a link to this "site" and it cracked me up so much that I just had to use it for my find.

It's a site sure to tickle the fancy of all you editors out there.

What's your find?

If you'd like to play, review the rules here. Then submit your link and get to commenting!

One Bad Mother

2007-10-25T22:47:00.000-04:00

So, I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing that my two-year-old can use the word "reciprocity" correctly.

Good, because he needs to know about reaping what you sow. If he wants me to respect him, he needs to treat me with respect, too. Which is something we struggle with on many a day.

I only sing the first and last verses (I leave out all the risque parts in the middle) but still. At least it keeps me sane.

Friday Finds: Desperation Entertaining

2007-10-19T00:00:00.000-04:00

This Friday, I want to highlight a cookbook that should be in everyone's collection, even if you don't frequently entertain. Nearly every recipe in this book is fantastic, and most of them can be easily scaled if you are not serving a crowd.

Get thee to Amazon for this book!

Alicia Ross and Beverly Mills have hit the jackpot in their cookbook, Desperation Entertaining. They have wonderful plan and prepare-ahead tips to make cooking for gatherings a breeze. And the recipes - oh, the recipes. The Heirloom Fudge Pie is to die for, and so easy you won't believe it.

So go, check it out. You'll love it.

What's your find?

*NOTE* Mr. Linky is not currently working correctly, so just leave your URL in the comments, and when I figure out how to make Mr. Linky work, I'll enter it in myself. Thanks!

If you'd like to add your Friday Find to the list, check out the rules here.

Really? It's a fish?

2007-10-18T22:07:00.000-04:00

I was making dinner last night, and noticed the packaging as I pulled the last individually quick frozen salmon fillet from the bag. A big allergy warning on the back said this:

Really? Salmon is a fish? Because I thought I was cooking up some rare form of chicken. Does the grocery store really think that's a necessary warning label?

I wanted to post this to participate in the Parent Bloggers Network's Wacky Warning Label Contest, mostly because I think it's hilarious. Plus, I happen to agree with these guys. So, what's the wackiest warning label you've seen lately?

10-20-30

2007-10-17T14:33:00.000-04:00

I saw this meme on Actual Unretouched Photo a few days ago, and it's been a while since I've done a meme, so I thought I'd play along.

-10-
Ten years ago I was a senior in high school. I had just broken up with a very, very nice boy, Matt, who looked exactly like Dean Cain. Hot. He was football player and a student of martial arts. Catholic and respectful. And so sweet he almost made my teeth hurt.

I had to break up with him because he was much more serious about our relationship than I was, and when words like "love" started entering the conversation, I hastily backed away. I had recently had my heart broken by my very first love, and I did not want to go down that road again. When I met SuperHubby a few months later and began dating him seriously, Matt called me very upset that I was dating, since I had told him I was not looking for a relationship. Which, in October of 1997 was true, but by the time I got to January of 1998, all that was out the window. What can I say? SuperHubby was just *the one*, and I knew it.

-20-
Twenty years ago, I was in the second grade at Bushy Park Elementary school. I had short hair, short like a boy. I had begged my mother to let me cut my nearly waist-length hair, because she had cut her hair off, and I wanted to be just like her. My mom had cut hers off because she had been diagnosed with terminal breast cancer. I didn't know what that meant. I don't remember much about being seven. I had the chickenpox on my seventh birthday. My mom had cancer, which she beat, and is now in her 20th year of remission.

-30-
Thirty years ago, I wasn't even a gleam in my parents' eyes.

How about you? Where were you 10, 20, or 30 years ago?

*** Reminder - Friday Finds previews tomorrow! The post will be up by midnight or perhaps earlier, so you can add your find with Mr. Linky. ***

Friday Finds: Reminder

2007-10-12T16:56:00.001-04:00

Well, since last week's response to my Friday Finds was, well non-existent, I figured I'd give you guys a week's notice, so you can get your ideas together.

Every Friday, starting next Friday, I will post a neat item or website that I think is useful, helpful, or fun. If you'd like to play along, you can write a post on your own blog, and then use the Mister Linky at the bottom to add your page to the list.

Here are the complete rules:

Write a post on your own blog about a "Friday Find." The find must be family friendly - this is a G-rated blog, and I'd like to keep it that way. You may use the graphic if you would like.

Then leave your name and a short description of your post, and link to your specific post in the Mister Linky below. It might look something like this:

Jane (New Cleaning Product)

Here's how to link to a specific post: On your blog, click on the title of your Friday Finds post. It should open in a new window, where the only post you see is your Friday Finds post. Then copy that URL into the Mister Linky. It's super simple.

If you link to your homepage, I will ask you to repost your link so that it links directly to the page with your Friday Find on it. If you cannot do this within a reasonable amount of time, your link will be removed.

I would appreciate a mention and link to Wishful Thinking in your post, if you don't mind.

After you've added your link, take a moment to check out and comment on some of the other great Friday Finds!

Here's hoping you all will have some great finds next Friday!

Giggle Pie

2007-10-09T14:56:00.000-04:00

I wish this blog had sound. I wish you could hear the Seth's chortle as he sits on my lap and watches the wind ruffle the leaves on the maple tree across the street. He sounds a little bit like those tubes that moo when you flip them over. The pattern goes like this: Inhale. Wheeze out a slow laugh on the exhale, "Heeehhh" then finish with a giggle, "heh heh heh heh heh."

Not a bad way to spend an afternoon, all told.

Sha-Poopie

2007-10-08T07:38:00.000-04:00

I dashed down the stairs, expecting a fresh and steaming pile to be sitting at the bottom. But … the carpet was clean. I peeked around the far side of the dining room table. Nothing.

But that … smell. I could still smell that … nasty, nasty smell.

Find out why my house stinks at Crunchable.

Friday Finds: Intro

2007-10-05T08:36:00.000-04:00

I'm launching a new feature here at Wishful Thinking: Friday Finds. Every Friday I will post about a website or product that I find helpful, useful, or just plain fun.

This week's feature is a website I tripped across last night, Raising Godly Tomatoes.

Elizabeth, who writes the site, is the mother of 10 (yeah, count 'em 10!!!) children. She offers sage and Godly advice on childrearing.

Last night, I was feeling overwhelmed by parenting my two boys, ages 2 years and 4 months, respectively. I was at the end of my rope, and had stopped being an effective parent, and had become a screaming, irritated, short-tempered and very ineffective parent.

Raising Godly Tomatoes helped me remember some of the basic tenets of good parenting: namely that consistency and gentle correction are the most effective ways to raise children who are kind, respectful and responsible. It seems simple, but she presents her technique in a loving and easy to understand way, and supports her points with Biblical teachings.

To be fair, she does advocate "swatting" children on a clothed or diapered bottom as a form of correction, or to get a child's attention when he is doing an unacceptable behavior. I am not comfortable "swatting," but I think her perspective on the swat is gentle and would not cause harm to a child if you did do it.

I also believe I can use some of her other ideas and still have success, even if I do not chose to spank.

If you're having trouble managing your children, I would highly recommend that you spend some time at Elizabeth's site. It's wonderful.

***

Thanks for reading my Friday Find! If you'd like to play along, here are the rules:

Write a post on your own blog about a "Friday Find." The find must be family friendly - this is a G-rated blog, and I'd like to keep it that way. You may use the graphic if you would like.

Then leave your name and a short description of your post, and link to your specific post in the Mister Linky below. It might look something like this:

Goslyn (Childrearing Help) - then that would link directly to this post, not to my main homepage.

Here's how to link to a specific post: On your blog, click on the title of your Friday Finds post. It should open in a new window, where the only post you see is your Friday Finds post. Then copy that URL into the Mister Linky. It's super simple.

If you link to your homepage, I will ask you to repost your link so that it links directly to the page with your Friday Find on it. If you cannot do this within a reasonable amount of time, your link will be removed.

After you've added your link, take a moment to check out and comment on some of the other great Friday Finds!

Do You Ever ...

2007-10-04T12:52:00.000-04:00

Have a day where both babies wake up grumpy and you try as hard as you can to be cheery, but you really just want them to stop screaming so you can have a cup of coffee?

And then you finally get the screaming monsters dressed and into the car to go to a meeting that's supposed to make you feel better, but it doesn't, because the speaker is a breast cancer survivor and her speech makes you cry?

And then she talks about the importance of prevention and hands out little breast self-exam cards to help you remember, and you feel guilty because you know you never do your self-exam?

It's not that you forget to do them; it's just that both your mother and grandmother had breast cancer, and you are so afraid you will find a lump that you figure it's better just not to know. Do you ever feel really stupid for thinking that?

And then you have to leave the meeting early because the babies won't stop crying and won't stay in childcare?

Does it ever happen that while you are trying to fix lunch for your two screaming babies, you realize your breast pads have failed, and your entire shirt is soaked with milk? And then the dog barks to be let out, so you let him out, only to watch him run away through the unlatched back gate, towards the high school, where the teenagers are getting out for lunch?

So then you have to leave both children in the house, unattended, while you run down the street in bare feet and a milk-soaked shirt, trying to catch the dog before he gets hit by a car or picked up by the police?

Then when you come home you wonder if trading in your job as a mediocre reporter to be a mediocre mother and housewife was a good idea? At least you got paid for being a reporter. Plus, you could actually quit that job.

Do you ever wonder how you can spend all day picking up and straightening up and trowing crap away, and yet your house never appears neat, clean or uncluttered?

Do you ever have a day like that?

Mascara Woes

2007-10-03T07:28:00.000-04:00

Today is backwards day at Works for Me Wednesday, and I am loving it! Instead of giving advice, we ask for some help from the great, amazing blogging community.

I wear contacts. I rub my eyes a lot. And I can't find any eye makeup that can hold up to the challenge without flaking or smearing. I've even tried the impossible-to-remove Covergirl Great Lash Waterproof. During daily wear, it still leaves little raccoon marks under my eyes, when I try to get it off at night, the marks just get worse.

Are there any great mascaras out there that won't leave me looking like a zombie?

My Son is a Preacher Man

2007-10-02T19:39:00.000-04:00

Meet Rowdy, the itinerant preacher. He's holding a camp meeting revival in every room in the house this week, and he is on fire with the spirit. He's got his "Halleluias" and "Amens" down. He takes his microphone into every room with him, so the good news will be heard by all. (In case you don't recognize it, it's the toilet paper holder from the loo.)

His sermon, while short, is pretty theologically sound:

"Jesus on CROSS," he growls, gesticulating wildly, his index finger pointing to a spot on the wall behind his head, where my wedding photo hangs. "Jesus come DOWN!"

Amen Brother Rowdy, Amen.

Karma

2007-10-01T23:42:00.000-04:00

I lay on the bathroom floor, fingers curled into claws, totally immobilized. I could barely breathe. I couldn’t feel my legs, but I could feel the bile rising in my throat.

“This is Karma in action,” I thought to myself.

The Tuesday before, SuperHubby dragged himself home from work at 10:30 p.m., complaining of dizziness, nausea and chills. He climbed into bed and proceeded to toss and turn and keep me awake until 1 a.m.

I tried -I really tried - to be solicitous. I got him a hot pack to warm his freezing hands. I found Advil to calm the fever he didn’t have. I fetched medicine to settle his stomach.

I brushed my fingers through his hair and rubbed his back, muttering “It’s going to be ok; it’s going to be ok.”

But what it sounded like was: “Good Lord. You are a grown man. This is the stomach flu and you don’t even have a fever. Suck it up.”

I was irritated and tired, and as his illness lingered into Wednesday and Thursday, I probably didn’t give him the loving kindness he deserved. When he made it out of bed and downstairs, he would immediately lie on the couch as though the trip had cost him every ounce of energy he possessed.

I scowled.

Four solid days of single-parenthood weren’t setting well with me.

On Friday, SuperHubby was feeling better, but still too drained to make it to work, or to help much with the boys. Instead, he headed to the doctor to try to figure out what was wrong with him.

I was feeling ok, until about four in the afternoon, when Friday’s lunch came rushing back. I thought it was so odd, because the only I get sick with a high fever or when pregnant. I had no fever, and I knew I wasn’t pregnant.

I called SuperHubby and asked him to pick up some ginger ale or Gatorade on his way home from the doctor's office. He said he was too tired. I figured I could live without it, and let it drop. But I was feeling woozy, and ticked that not only was he sick, now he wasn't even helping me out.

I scowled some more, then threw up.

By seven, I knew I wasn't going to make it without some Gatorade. I called a neighbor, and begged her to run to the store for me. She said she would, after dinner. But by eight, she still hadn't arrived, and I was shaking. SuperHubby was putting Tom to bed. I had Seth, but I was shaking so hard I was afraid to pick him up.

By nine, I had collapsed on the bathroom floor, immobile and terrified. SuperHubby couldn't drive me to the hospital, so he called 911.

The EMTs had a bit of trouble maneuvering me past the pack-n-play, the trendy Fisher Price Rainforest Swing, and the exersaucer. They kept telling me to "breathe slower" and looked surprised and vaguely disgusted when I vomited bile all over the floor. I wondered why they were in this profession.

As the EMTs wheeled me out the front door and into the ambulance, Drunk Judy from across the street came over to see how I was doing. "You ok?" she slurred, not unkindly. I was thankful that I couldn't speak, so I didn't have to say, "No, I'm fine. I volunteer to do this to help train the medics. It's really a fun way to spend a Friday night! Here's your sign."

*It's been a little over two weeks since the horrible, awful, very bad stomach flu hit our house. We are all fine and completely recovered. In the process we managed to spread the joy to one neighbor, both of SuperHubby's parents and our wonderful, incredible babysitter. They've all recovered, too.*

Falling Words

2007-09-10T15:54:00.000-04:00

The reason I love poetry
is the crisp, juicy bite of adverbs
Bouncing sassily in your mouth
Roundly and smoothly on your lips –

Saltimbocca snaps of verbs
Pouncing on nouns
Tumbling out of your throat and
Jumping in your ears and
E x p a n d i n g in your mind

Batteries Not Included

2007-08-23T21:31:00.000-04:00

Every morning, around 10 AM, the middle school marching band bangs and stomps and squeaks past my house. Tom, at two, is enthralled. He is convinced that his purpose in life is to bang the big bass drum.

And so, we've started music time. We play piano. We pluck, strum, and occasionally bang the guitar. Tom has a blast pounding away on his Fisher-Price plastic drum. He's been known to pick out a tune (albeit more in the style of Coltrane than Mozart)on his rainbow-colored xylophone.

He can play (or at least make a lot of noise on) the recorder, the Irish penny whistle,and our dilapidated harmonica.

So earlier this week, I dug my father's trumpet and my saxophone out of the basement. Tom was very impressed with my improvised version of Happy Birthday, and decided he wanted to give the saxophone a spin. He huffed and puffed, but he just couldn't get a sound to come out.

"Saxophone broken," he sighed. "Need new batteries. No music in it."

Beachlusional

2007-08-20T20:57:00.000-04:00

The summer I was six years old, my parents took me to the ocean. I spent the week dipping my toes in the waves and chasing sandpipers. When I came home, I told my best friend that the king of the sea had made me an honorary mermaid princess. I showed her how I swam with my legs crossed at the ankles and pretended to live in castles under the sea.

There’s just something about the ocean — the wide, flat expanse of it — that opens my mind to long-forgotten possibilities.

Keep reading ....

Uncle Donald's

2007-08-06T16:34:00.000-04:00

When I found my toddler in a full-on lip lock with a 6-foot fiberglass clown, I realized it might be time to change the family eating habits.

Keep reading at Crunchable.

Well Tickle Me Pink

2007-07-31T17:49:00.000-04:00

I've won something! I've actually won something! My good buddy Steph over at Creature Bug sent me some love in the form of a pretty pink award several weeks ago - I've just not been around to put it up. So, thanks, Steph, for thinking of me.

In return, I'll pass the love along to some fabulous women.

First, to Mopsy at Lifenut, since she's the reason I started blogging in the first place. Her writing is so lyrical and inspiring, and she finds time to do it while raising six kids. Amazing.

Next, to Suzanne, because she is so grounded in her faith and makes me think of things I would otherwise overlook. Plus, she's really cool. And her recipes look fantastic.

And finally, to Julie Q. for always, always making me think. Amazing. Like a great college course, only on a blog. Plus no homework. And I never feel stupid for raising my hand in class.

There are so many more women who deserve to be a Rockin' Girl Blogger, but I'll start with these three.

Moving On

2007-07-26T11:34:00.000-04:00

There is a 53-foot moving van outside my house, and Tommy, my 2-year-old son, is plastered to the front door.

“Moving van!” he says, trying to press himself through the glass and onto the front porch, where he will be two feet closer to the biggest truck he has ever seen.

I wish I could close the front door and make the truck vanish.

Keep reading at Crunchable.

While I Was Out

2007-07-06T21:32:00.000-04:00

Well, I haven't been posting much in the last seven weeks or so. But I have been busy. Doing this:

Amd of course, raising these:

Made Service

2007-07-04T11:16:00.000-04:00

"I made!" the Tominator exclaims, examining his handiwork. We have guests coming in 20 minutes to celebrate this day of independence, and my entire first floor is now baby powder fresh, thanks to a toddler and a two-pound can of talc.

On top of each of the 88 piano keys is a carefully arranged pile of powder. The piano bench is smeared with powdery handprints and streaks. The baby's basinett is half-full of powder, and tom even sprinkled the couch, but it actually makes the cream-colored fabric look and smell better, so I can't complain too much about that.

At the foot of the stairs, he has lovingly applied white diaper cream to our dark gray carpet.

The baby is squalling, covered in spit up and demanding his bath. SuperHubby has finally met his archnemisis - the Influenza bug - and is trying valiantly to sleep it off.

Lord help us all.

What I Learned at Dinner Tonight

2007-06-25T21:09:00.000-04:00

When we pray before dinner, we close by thanking "the Fadder, Swon, and Howy Spit."

Dinner is best accompanied by "pwo-no" music such as "woa woa boat" which is sung in "wownds."

Tom likes "penny pata" with alfredo sauce and "bwoccoli." He also likes "zoo-kee-nee quash!"

He loves "huggins" but will not say "I wuv you" unless prompted, one syllable at a time.

He's such a boy.

A True American Idol

2007-06-12T08:49:00.000-04:00

Just call him Sanjaya ...

FIve

2007-06-08T21:03:00.000-04:00

Five years ago, I woke up in an unfamiliar hotel room, no longer a bride. We lounged in bed a good part of the morning, doing what all newlyweds should be doing ... ordering room service.

Our pancakes and eggs cost $57. It was thrilling.

We spent the day at the resort napping, eating at the outdoor cafe and strolling along the edge of the golf course, until we got kicked off by management for not having any clubs.

The next day we boarded a plane bound for the Caribbean, and spent a week in lovely, secluded Grenada, lounging on the beach and exploring rain forests.

I blindly followed my brand-spanking-new husband when he jumped into a red van with four big, dark-skinned native men in it as we were walking to the beach. I watched the beach go right by, and still we drove on. I was sure we would end up dead on the mountain somewhere, but we ended up in the capital city at the end of the long queue of minivans that is considered the bus system on the island.

I learned that to get off a bus in Grenada, you tap on the ceiling and driver stops. Wherever. Even in the middle of absolutely nowhere.

It was before we had a digital camera, and we have not one picture of the two of us together on our honeymoon. I was stupidly, stupidly stingy with film.

My mom asked me if five years ago I could have imagined my life today.

Today I spent the day changing diapers and feeding babies - first the one who can now talk back and tell me precisely what he does and does not like - and second, the one who leave big puddles of milk where ever he goes.

But then SuperHubby made it home from work, bearing these:

And the first thing he did was scoop his sons up in his arms and tell them how much he loves them and how much he missed them during the day. And I can't imagine a better anniversary gift than that.

The Best Mother's Day Gift - Ever

2007-05-13T20:35:00.000-04:00

Seth Morgan arrived on Friday after a quick and painless (!!) labor. He weighed in at 9 lbs 6 oz, and so far everyone is doing well.

We came home today, and what a great way to spend Mother's Day - with my two beautiful sons.

39 Weeks and Sick as a Dog

2007-05-09T10:35:00.000-04:00

The weather is absolutely glorious. Clear blue skies, trees in full leaf and bloom, birds chirping merrily.

Yet here I sit, swollen ankles and a box of tissues, wishing for all the world I could be the one taking my son to the playground today.

About a week ago, Tom and I both came down with ... something. It acts like an allergy gone wild - itchy eyes, runny nose, itchy ears, cough. Only now my cough has gotten into my chest and is all infected. Yuck.

Tom is fine as long as he's not around me. He plays with Pops and Gramma and has a fine time, but as soon as I enter a room he becomes a bawling ball of snot with a hacking cough. It's lovely.

I can't decide whether I just want the baby OUT, or if I want him to stay in until the pestilence is gone from my household. I am terrified of the baby getting a respiratory disease at such a young age.

I hope the rest of you are having a nicer spring.

Jumping the Gun

2007-04-22T15:18:00.000-04:00

Spring has finally sprung in my hometown. For the past three days, it's topped out in the high 70's. Gorgeous, sunny weather. Beautiful things are starting to grow in my garden.

(Dandelions are also starting to grow in my garden, but I'm digging those suckers up as fast as I can.)

I've set all my seedlings on the front porch to harden off. Two new rose plants are waiting in their gallon containers to be planted as soon as the arbor they are to climb is installed.

The only problem is, I know I'm doing too much too soon. It generally is not considered a good idea to plant in my neck of the woods until mid-May. We've been known to get a hard frost well into May. But I just can't help myself. Here's hoping the cold weather stays away for good!

Baby Cages and Easter Chores

2007-04-10T22:42:00.000-04:00

What fun holiday celebration would be complete without a baby cage? (If you haven't seen this episode of Scrubs, watch it before calling CPS on me. It's a joke, I promise.)

Also, when you've done your time, you've got to do your Easter chores:

But seriously, we also let him have a little fun. We blew bubbles:

And fell asleep in church:

He slept through the trumpets. He slept through the tympani. But right after this picture was taken, SuperHubby was telling someone that he and Tom had seen a fire truck before church ... and sproing! his little head popped up and swiveled around. It's all about the fire trucks, baby. (And yes, this may be the single most unflattering picture of me ever taken, between the Dumbo ears and the giant belly. Oh, the pride I sacrifice in the name of an easy blog post.)

And examined giant, mutant goldfish.

Happy Easter.

Flower Power

2007-04-05T08:01:00.000-04:00

They may be forecasting snow showers all weekend, but gosh darn it, at least my door looks springy.

I took a little rainy afternoon trip to the Michael's yesterday, and lo and behold, all their spring flowers were 50% off. So I made myself a new wreath and had enough left over for two spring arrangements. Not quite as nice as real, but they'll last longer!

Miss Communication

2007-04-04T21:09:00.000-04:00

I have been stumped for some time by the Tominator's reluctance to speak. He makes a lot of noise. He makes a lot of very interesting sounds. But speak -- in actual words that we can understand? Not so much.

His friends at playgroup, all boys, all within a few weeks of Tom's age, all speak in sentences. They have no trouble stringing multi syllabic words together in sensible, rational ways.

Tom ... again, not so much. He can identify and sound out more than half the letters of the alphabet - he can even pick them out of text. But put them together to make a word? Not gonna do it.

Well, today I figured out what the problem was. And apparently, it was my problem.

You see, I don't speak Spanish.

Tom does.

We were in the bathroom, getting ready to wash our hands, and Tom looks up at me and says, clear as day, "Agua! Agua!"

So all that nonsense, with the trilled r's that he's always spouting? I guess I'd better get myself some Speak in a Week and figure it out.

Works for Me Wednesday: Garden Starting Shortcuts

2007-03-28T09:48:00.000-04:00

As a passionate, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants gardener, I love starting seeds each spring. It gives me such a sense of accomplishment to know that I grew many of my garden plants "from scratch."

The thing is, all the gardening books make seed starting sound SO hard. You have to use special seed-starting mix. Then you plant them in trays watch carefully for each seeding to form two leaves. Then you carefully scoop out each seedling and transplant it into a pot. Then you transplant it again into your garden.

Bah, I say. That's way too much work.

Through trial and error, I've discovered a wonderful system that allows you to plant once, and then transplant straight to your garden when the weather is warm enough.

The secret is to save the little plastic six packs (or larger) that already-started plants come in at the nursery. When you plant your annuals this spring, be gentle when you remove them from the plastic pack. Wash those suckers up and save them for next year. The packs are perfect because they are little self-contained cups with built-in drainage holes.

Then go to a local garden shop or a WalMart and get yourself a couple of plastic gardening trays. They are about 10x15 inches and solid plastic. Here, they set you back about 99 cents.

When you're ready to start the seeds, mix up some regular old potting soil (I use Miracle-Gro) with some peat moss. I make my mix about half and half; the peat moss serves to lighten the soil just a bit to make root development easier on the plants.

Then fill all your little cups with soil, and put them in your plastic trays. The plastic trays are essential to this step. Stick your seeds in the soil, and mist with a spray bottle. Then add an inch or so of water to the plastic trays - so that the cups are sitting in the water. The dirt, and eventually the plant roots, will suck up the water through the holes in the bottom of the cups. Makes keeping the soil moist a breeze.

Cover the whole shebang with some clear plastic wrap and place in a sunny window. You can also use a florescent lamp to encourage growth. I use an old florescent desk lamp that we had hanging around the house.

In about three days, you should see sprouts, and as your plants grow, remove the plastic wrap. Keep watering by adding water to the trays, and let them grow away! You may need to thin the plants in the cups, but that is easy to do by just clipping off the weaker seedlings.

When it's time to put your plants in the garden, you have an easy time of it. Just pop the well-rooted seedlings out of the cups and go to town! It's like having a garden center on your back porch, and that works for me.

Out of the Loop

2007-03-23T12:02:00.000-04:00

This just goes to show how far removed I am from popular culture:

My friend went to college with the three ladies who have started this company. They sell fancy underwear that is packaged (with a personal freshness wipe) in a little case that looks like a passport.

Their website lists a variety of uses for such pre-packaged panties, including a "hot date for cocktails after a hard day's work." I had no idea that women needed fresh underwear in order to drink a martini. But then again, I don't drink, so what do I know?

Seriously, I wish these ladies well and hope their business takes off. I guess I just don't get it.

Failure

2007-03-22T13:07:00.000-04:00

Today, I ate my leftover stuffed cabbage all by myself. I didn't share my lunch with anyone.

Today, I failed.

My friend Maria stopped by the church unexpectedly around noon today, with her new boyfriend. They are moving in together, if they can scrape up the deposit for the apartment.

I met Maria through the church. She used to come in to help her mother quilt on Thursdays, but spent most of her time visiting with me in the church office. She helped with office work, helped watch my son, even stayed over at my house a few times.

When she went to her senior prom, I volunteered to do her hair and makeup, and made a gift of the cosmetics.

When Maria graduated high school, she had a career all lined up. She was a certified nurse assistant, and had secured a well-paying, health-insurance-providing job at a local nursing home. Things looked good for Maria.

Then she met a man, and followed him around the country. She was fired from her job. Her upright, Chrisitian parents didn't approve, so she moved out.

She's spent the last year living in squalor, subsisting on food donations and soup kitchen meals, wearing clothes gleaned from other people's trashcans.

When she and her boyfriend showed up, I was glad to see them. They were filthy, and I'd just put Tom down for a nap, but I invited them in. We chatted. Then her boyfriend said that he was going to have to pawn the gold necklace Maria had bought him two days ago for his birthday, because they had no food and hadn't eaten today.

"You haven't eaten all day?" I asked. (I can't even imagine no food all day.)

"Well, we haven't been eating very well lately," Maria admitted. She said she's been passing out a lot, but she doesn't know why.

My lunch - uneaten - was in a bag on the counter behind me. I thought about giving it to them, but I didn't.

I looked at Maria with her greasy hair and filthy nails and heard the words of Jesus in my head:

Whatsoever you do unto the least of my people, you have done unto me.

And I did nothing.

The Very Hungry Mommy

2007-03-16T10:09:00.000-04:00

In the light of the moon, a Mommy lay in bed, awake and starving. Stealthily, she crawled out of bed and went in search of something good to eat.

At 10 p.m., she ate through one bowl of cereal, but she was still hungry.

At 1 a.m., she ate through two Girl Scout Samoas cookies, but she was still hungry.

At 3 a.m., she ate through three bowls of fruit salad, but she was still hungry.

At 5 a.m., she ate through four Girl Scout Thin Mint cookies, but she was still hungry.

At 7 a.m., she ate through one bowl of cereal, one banana, one piece of cinnamon toast, one low-fat string cheese, one glass of orange juice and one cup of green tea. And she didn’t even have a stomachache!

Now she wasn’t a little Mommy anymore – she was a big, fat, mommy.

But she was still hungry.

My apologies to Eric Carle.

No Means No

2007-03-08T13:10:00.000-05:00

A play about a mother’s spiral into insanity at the hands of her toddler son.

Characters:
Mama: Loving, but frazzled, hugely pregnant twenty-something mother.
Tom: Spirited, intelligent, pre-lingual eighteen-month-old boy.

Act I

At Rise: (A bathroom somewhere in Pennsylvania. It is dawn. Mama is brushing her teeth at the sink. From offstage she hears the sound of the refrigerator door opening and closing. Toddler son, Tom, appears in bathroom lugging 2-liter bottle of Coca-Cola.)

Tom: (Holding bottle out to Mama)
Ugh ugh ugh!

Mama: No Tom, that’s Mama’s juice. Tom may not have that juice.

Tom: (Making drinking motion with bottle)
Ugh ugh ugh!

Mama: (Sighing)
Mama said no.

Tom: (Running out of bathroom and sliding down the stairs, still clutching bottle)
Ugh ugh ugh!

Mama: (Following Tom downstairs into the kitchen, sees that Tom has found a cup and is holding both the Coke and the cup out to her.)
I know that you want that juice, Tom, but you may not have it.

Tom: (Making the American Sign Language sign for please)
Ugh, ugh, ugh!

Mama: (Gets apple juice from fridge.)
Here Tom, you may have this juice.

Tom: No, no, no!

Mama: (Giving in)
Ok Tom. Let's compromise.
(Mama fills Tom’s cup with water and adds a splash of Coke for color.)
Here. You may have some of Mama’s juice.

Tom: No, no, no!
(Falls to floor, crying and kicking. Will not take cup.)
No, no, no!

(Tom continues kicking and crying inconsolably. Mama sighs and pours Coke down the drain to avoid further conflict. Lights fade.)

Act II

At Rise: (Brightly-lit kitchen. Tom is sitting in his highchair playing with his spoon and awaiting his breakfast.)

Mama: Here’s your waffle, Tom.

Tom: (Crying)
No, no, no!
(Stuffs waffle greedily in mouth.)
No, no, no!

Mama: (Sighs.)

(Lights fade.)

Act III

At Rise: (Administrative office of a church, drab, full of filing cabinets. It is lunchtime. Brightly colored children’s toys are scattered on the floor.)

Mama: Tom, it’s time for lunch. Let’s heat up your soup. Do you want to push the buttons on the microwave?

Tom: (Carrying bowl of soup and running towards the microwave)
No, no, no!
(He begins crying.)

Mama: Tom, do you want to help Mama? Give Mama the soup.

Tom: (Wailing)
No, no, no!

Mama: Here, let me help you.
(Attempts to pick up Tom, but he slides to the floor, tears streaming down his face. He kicks the floor.)

Tom: No, no, no!

(Mama heats soup, and Tom calms enough to climb into his highchair, where he proceeds to eat with gusto.)

Mama: Tom, do you want some cornbread?

Tom: (Reaches for cornbread.)
No, no, no!

(Lights fade.)

Sunday Snow Day

2007-02-25T20:31:00.000-05:00

We had planned to go home today, but the snow started falling during church and just kept falling and falling and falling ... so instead we went sledding.

All bundled up ...

I love sledding with Dada!

And building snowmen with Grandpa ...

And we rounded out the weekend with some tickles from Mama. Here comes the tickle-monster!

He's gonna get you!

(And yes, my son is part piranha. Look at those teeth!)

Update on Prayer Requests

2007-02-23T10:20:00.000-05:00

My friend Jeanette gave birth to Ahren Alexander yesterday afternoon. He was 19 inches long and 7 lbs 1 oz. So far, things look good. He's been eating well and has been making urine. Doctors will do some tests today and again later in the week to make sure everything is working well, but right now things look very positive.

Thank you all for your prayers and support. Please keep praying for Ahren's continued health.

Product Review: Fabulous Snacks by Kashi

2007-02-21T22:16:00.000-05:00

While many of my bloggy buddies are famous enough to be asked to review products, I just do it out of the goodness of my heart. No one's advertising department has contacted me for reviews, but when I find a product I love, I feel like I should tell my tens of readers about it.

So, without further ado, here's my new favorite portable kid feast and fabulous snack find: Kashi's TLC Cherry Dark Chocolate Granola Bars. I tripped over these the other day at Wal-Mart, and decided to give them a try, even though they are slightly more expensive than their Quaker counterparts.

Tom loves granola bars, but I've always felt bad about filling him up with super-sugary snacks, even if they do come convienently wrapped. Enter Kashi. While the bars do still contain 8g of sugar, it's balanced with a healthy (but tasty) 4g of fiber and 5g of protein.

Plus, they taste great to adults, too. The cherry flavor is a great combination of sweet and tart, not at all cloying, the way I find other chewy granola bars to be. The bars include actual dried cherries, along with tasty, real dark chocolate chips. No artificial flavoring, nothing. Yum.

Kashi offers several flavors, but the others I saw contained big pieces of nuts, and I am not that confident in Tom's chewing ability. I do, however, plan to check out the trail mix variety for myself.

Kashi's Cherry Dark Chocolate Chewy Granola Bars get a big five-star rating from Wishful Thinking.

Nut-Free Streusel

2007-02-21T09:22:00.000-05:00

Superhubby can't eat nuts, and I've been searching for a decent nut-free streusel recipe for years. Finally I found one that I could adapt, and I am so excited.

2/3 c. uncooked regular oatmeal, coarsely chopped in a food processor
2/3 c. all-purpose flour
2/3 c. sugar or packed brown sugar
5 T melted butter
1 t cinnamon (or use 1/2 t each ginger and nutmeg)
1/4 t salt

Mix all ingredients together with a fork until crumbly. Top baked goods (coffee cake, muffins) and bake as directed. This recipe freezes well, too, if you end up with more streusel than you can use.

I made this with ginger and used them to top cherry muffins a few weeks ago. Delicious!

In Need of Prayer

2007-02-20T09:46:00.000-05:00

**UPDATED**

If you are the praying type, please take a moment and pray for two families who are experiencings serious emergencies right now.

My parents are volunteers at White Sands National Monument in New Mexico. Yesterday a 77-year-old visitor to the park went out to take pictures on the dunes. He never returned. Overnight temperatures in the desert dropped to the 30s, and he is without much food, water or warm clothing.

Resucers have been searching the 275-square-mile park for 12 hours, and they still haven't located him. He and his wife are visiting from Austrailia. Please pray for Lou's safe resuce.

**Lou has been found, alive and whole. He survived the night in the dunes by covering himself with dry grasses, and walked to safety this afternoon.**

The second request is for my neighbor's daughter, Jeanette. She is pregnant with her second child, and will be induced Thursday because her son's kidneys aren't forming properly. Fluid continues to build up around his kidneys, instead of being excreted in a normal manner. Because both kidneys are affected, this could be a very serious and life-threatening illness for him. Doctors say there is about a 25% chance the problem will "fix itself" after birth. Please pray for Jeanette and her family.

Works For Me Wednesday, Indeed!

2007-02-15T14:07:00.000-05:00

My blog is what you might call "out of the way." On good days, I like to think of it as a refreshing, but little-known, outpost on the mega-highway to bloggityville.

On a bad day, I call my lack of traffic depressing.

Well, let me tell you something. I participated in Works for Me Wednesday yesterday, and my traffic jumped 380% for the day. Three hundred eighty percent!

Now that REALLY works for me. (Thanks, Shannon!)

No, no!

2007-02-15T10:46:00.000-05:00

The Tominator has learned the "N" word, and sad to say, I find it hilarious. Mostly because he uses such inflection when he demurs. It's never just "NO!" instead, he says "no, no, noooooo" with a long shake of the head.

Often it's in response to a question.
Mama: "Tom, do you want some juice?"
Tom: "No, no, nooooooo!"

Other times, it's in request for the book But No Elephants. This is a tricky one.
Mama: "Would you like to read a book?"
Tom: "Book! No, no, NOOOOOO!" as he runs to fetch above mentioned book.

Today, it was in response to some lyrics on a Veggie Tales CD.
Bob the Tomato: "God answers prayer, God answers prayer ..."
Tom: "No, no, NOOOOOO!"

I have no idea what this means, but it sure is funny. I think.

Quick Kitchen Clean Up

2007-02-14T08:50:00.000-05:00

A nice, home-cooked Valentine's Day meal is always better when you don't face a sink full of dirty dishes when you're done. My solution, as obvious as this seems, is to clean up as you go. If I wash as many dishes as possible while the main dish simmers or bakes, by the time dinner rolls around, I am left with only the dinner plates and glasses (these go in the dishwasher) and whatever pot the main dish cooked in. Cleanup takes mere minutes, and then we can enjoy our evening as a family.

Simple, but it works for me!

Friendship and Joy

2007-02-12T01:10:00.000-05:00

"I'd rather have roses on my table than diamonds 'round my neck."
- Emma Goldman

Every girl remembers her first time, and sometimes her last.

The day after my son was born, a gorgeous bouquet of yellow roses found their way into my hospital room. They brightened up the dingy view of the alley quite nicely and soothed my exhausted shock at having brought this tiny, living, pooping thing into the world. That was the last time I received yellow roses.

But the first time, oh the first time.

On a clear Valentine’s Day nearly a decade ago, I woke up to find a yellow rose lying on the bed next to me, tucked in between the pages of my journal. Surprising, romantic, and extremely odd. This was not a farewell from the last night’s lover – I was 17, living at home with my parents, and quite chaste.

I pulled on my robe and hustled downstairs, where my mother was flipping pancakes. Another beautiful red-tipped yellow rose was lying by my breakfast plate. When I asked her about it, she was evasive. “I have no idea,” she said, smiling.

For the rest of the day, whenever I caught sight of the two roses nestled in a vase on the table, I wondered how they had gotten to my house. They had to be from my new boyfriend, who knew that yellow roses were my favorite. But he lived 20 minutes away, and I could not believe that he had driven out that morning, before I awoke, to make sure the rose would get tucked into my bed.

Later that evening, he picked me up for a special dinner date. Another rose popped out from behind his back. Yet another was waiting for me in the car. Back at his parents’ house, he had set up the formal dining room with candles and soft music. He carefully served spaghetti he had made himself, and we sat down to eat – at a table set with china, silver and six gorgeous yellow roses.

As we lingered over our farewell kiss outside the garage door of my parents’ house, he produced two more roses. An even dozen -- and he surprised me with every single one.

*This post is a shameless bid to win a box of Alaskan berry-filled chocolates from Scribbit, during this month's Write-Away Contest. I'm pregnant and I need them.

*This post was also submitted to Crunchable, and will appear in the February issue.

Therapy

2007-02-10T21:01:00.000-05:00

Take endless tantrums, fussing and an extremely snotty nose from one 18-month-old. Mix in one sick husband. Sprinkle liberally with a desire for a clean house, and continue sorting, organizing and vacuuming despite screaming toddler. Stir in 4 loads of laundry. Add a splash of barking, tissue-stealing dog. Chill at 66 degrees for 12 solid hours.

Then run screaming from the house with poorly-painted cardboard sign reading "Cancun or Bust."

Or, you could make these.

What I really wanted was a delicious pan of seven-layer bars, but I didn't have any sweetened condensed milk. So I made up my own recipe.

Therapy Bars

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Crust:
1 1/4 c graham cracker crumbs
1 T brown sugar
2 T melted butter

Mix together and press in the bottom of an 8-inch glass pan.

Topping:
1/2 c packed brown sugar
1/2 butter
1/2 c white chocolate chips
1/2 c raisins
3/4 c semi-sweet chocolate chips
1/2 c mini marshmallows

Melt brown sugar and butter in a sauce pan and boil gently one minute, until sugar and butter form a soft caramel.

Sprinkle white chocolate chips and raisins over crust. Top with caramel and bake for 15 minutes, or until caramel bubbles evenly. Pull out of oven, top with semi-sweet chips and marshmallows and return to oven until marshmallows are lightly brown, about 3 minutes.

Let cool at least 30 minutes and cut into bars. Makes 9 bars, or 16 if you cut them really small.

Nutritional information:
Who are you kidding? These are a heart attack and diabetic coma all rolled into one. But they are so much cheaper than Xanax, and you don't need a prescription.

Tick Tock

2007-02-09T10:14:00.000-05:00

In three months, give or take a week, I will welcome a new baby into my home. This is something that SuperHubby and I prayed about, and that we both wanted very badly. But as countdown to baby number two continues, I do not find myself rejoicing and longing to hold his tiny hands. Instead I am reduced to an inanimate lump of molten, abject terror.

Maybe it's because I have finally settled into something resembling a routine, after more than a year of sleeping, eating, cleaning, showering whenever I could. Maybe I've just become used to a child who sleeps 10 straight hours. I've become accustomed to a couple of uninterrupted hours of computer or TV time at night, no demands, no wailing, hungry, fretful children to keep me from taking time for myself. I hate that I am already fretting over giving that up once S. arrives.

I know, in reality, that three months is a very long time. I don't need to be worried that we are not even close to ready to move Tom into his big-boy room. I have time to accomplish all I have set out to do. But I am having misgivings over my decision to try to move him out of the crib and into a real bed before the baby is born. My mother reminds me regularly that she thinks moving him out of his crib is a terrible idea. I'm starting to believe her. If I don't move him, though, I will have to buy another crib. And I really don't want to do that.

Unlike with Tom, where I (falsely) had a sense of security bestowed on me by the dozens of baby-care books I devoured, I have no such comfort with this child. Even though I will have nearly two years of mothering experience under my belt by the time S. comes along, I am sure that I won't know what to do. I have no sense of security in my abilities to parent two children with such very different needs at the same time.

I want so badly to feel like this, but I don't.

I want to be glowing with the joy and wonder at the miracle that is happening every second inside my body, instead of sitting on hot packs because somehow I ended up with a shooting pain in my backside and left leg this time around. I want to be enjoying the baby's kicks, punches, jabs and rolls, not resenting the fact that putting on socks is already difficult for me.

It's sort of the way I felt about Christmas this year. I knew it was coming, the cheerful holiday presence loomed over my head and blasted from store speakers starting around mid-October. I had plenty of time and warning to prepare. But I dragged my feet. I didn't want to buy Christmas gifts before Halloween. I didn't want to plan menus and shopping lists and day trips and everything else to keep my family happy over the holidays. As a result, when I finally got around to completing these tasks, I was rushed and frustrated. Although the holidays went well, they were not the exciting family time I had anticipated. We spent a lot of time sitting around staring at our hands because I had not done a good job planning day trips and activities.

I feel like that's how it's going to go with this baby, too. I feel unprepared. And messing up Christmas is not nearly as bad as messing up my kids because I didn't know what to do.

Will He Ever Know?

2007-02-08T08:23:00.000-05:00

Our house is full of pestilence. The Tominator is sick with a nasty cold, I have a (so far) less virulent version, plus some sort of itchy rash on the inside of my right knee. It looks like a poison ivy rash, only, well, it's February. I'm pretty darn certain I haven't been exposed to any rash-inducing vegetation.

As a result, our normal routines have been chucked, in favor of snuggling on the sofa while rotting our brains with too much TV.

Last night I found myself pinned to the couch under a 25-pound ball of snot and drool. He snuggled up to my chest and snaked his arm around my neck, fisting his little hand in my hair. My hair apparently holds some magical healing and calming powers. Tom has sought out a handful of my hair in times of stress, illness or fear since he was a tiny infant. I put Samson to shame. Oh the power.

As he slept on my chest, soaking through my shirt, I listened to his ragged breathing, and a sense of calm washed over me. I wonder if he will ever know this heart-shattering love?

Amazing.

Vignettes

2007-02-06T20:24:00.000-05:00

Winter has made herself known here lately, even though she has been stingy with her snow, hoarding it so that only children west of the Mississippi get to build forts and make snow angels.

Instead of glistening, glittering snow, she has sent icy cold winds that bite at your skin and freeze your nose. Cold so bitter it seeps through the cracks and wrinkles in our nonagenarian home, leaving a thin film of ice on the dog's water bowl as a breakfast greeting. Cold that freezes your fingers to the metal of the doorknob and the iron stair railing when you step outside so the dog can relieve himself.

I bury myself under blankets and those little packs full of beans that you stick in the microwave for two minutes to get toasty toe warmers. I fill my belly with hot tea, hot cocoa and more hot tea, but part of me is still frozen.

*****

The Tominator has discovered hugs. Every once in a while I'll be washing dishes or cooking or otherwise occupied in the kitchen, and I'll feel a sudden attack on my legs, a 25-pound linebacker aimed right at my knees.

"Hugs, hugs, hugs!" he says, and then he's gone, and I hear him crash into his ball pit. "Boom!" he chuckles. "Boom!"

*****

The Tominator has also discovered the potty, without any effort on the part of myself or SuperHubby. On Monday, Tom was having a fit trying to turn the doorknob on the bathroom door. I finally figured out what he wanted and opened the door for him. He walked over the toilet, lifted the lid and tried to sit down.

Being a bit slow, I had no idea why he was doing this. "Do you need to potty?" I asked, confused.

He stared at me with a look that clearly said "DUH!" and continued to try to sit on the toilet.

So off came his diaper, and I got into the age-old holding toddler over potty pose. And sure enough, he had to go.

I was pretty sure it was just a fluke, but when he asked to go again this morning, we headed out to the store to get him his own seat for the toilet. We'll see how this goes.

Success

2007-02-05T21:26:00.000-05:00

After a week of feeling like I am walking backwards through molasses, no matter how hard I try to make headway, I finally have something to report: despite the dastardly plans of the mini destructo-bot that lives in my house, I can now walk unmolested through my laundry room. This is a huge achievement, which involved giving boxes and boxes of ~~crap~~ lovely, gently used bed and table linens to the Goodwill.

Scary basement laundry room before:

Scary basement laundry room after:

My lovely just-created ironing nook. I am hoping this will inspire me to actually, you know, iron. My father, who admits to pressing his shoelaces as a child, will be so proud.

das Vorlagenrennen

2007-01-24T21:08:00.000-05:00

If you were, say, a power-crazed dictator bent on creating a master race, you would not chose myself and SuperHubby to be in your breeding stables.

Between the two of us, we have the genetic capability to create bald, diseased, mutant children who like superheroes.

Seriously.

We're talking family histories of at least three types of cancer, heart disease, diabetes, glaucoma, Crohn's disease, hairy arms -- you name it, we got it.

I was feeling pretty bad about this, especially for Tom, until my mom told me the World Health Organization (or some agency like that) had released a study saying that children raised in overly-sterilized environments are more prone to a variety of health conditions, including Crohn's.

So at least we've got that one licked.

I Choose Kathryn

2007-01-23T12:25:00.000-05:00

Seems I was so busy yesterday that I missed out on Blog for Choice Day. But Kathryn, over at Daring Young Mom, did not.

Her post is so incredibly awesome, so well written, that I'm not even going to try to one-up her. Instead, I'll just link to said post.

Way to go, Kathryn.

The Hulk

2007-01-22T10:14:00.000-05:00

A while ago, Gramma taught the Tominator how to "show his muscles." Now, on the command, "show me your muscles" he clenches his fists and bends his arms in the age-old body-builder pose. My son will be no Mr. Milktoast.

Usually he does his muscles when he's really mad or frustrated, so we get a hilarious grimace going on with the arms. But he's grinning like a fool in this shot.

Reason #642

2007-01-17T21:18:00.000-05:00

why I love my son -

He is convinced I am this chick.

We have a box of Ritz crackers with Rachael's picture on it. During snack time today he looked at the picture and then back at me. His face lit up and a devilish smile stole across his lips.

"Mama!" he exclaimed, poking poor Rachael in the eye. "Mama!"

No matter what I said, he could not be convinced that the girl on the box was not, in fact, me. Don't know what that says for his eyesight, come to think of it.

But hey, he thinks I'm cute, famous, rich and an excellent cook. Can't beat that.

Nerd Squared

2007-01-16T16:39:00.000-05:00

Further evidence that we are raising a nerd:

At 17 months, one of the Tominator's favorite pastimes is to take himself up to his bedroom, climb up in his rocker, turn on his CD player (which we keep stocked with Mozart) and read a book. To himself.

I am both extremely proud and afraid for him.

So far the score is:

Jock: 1 - He likes to watch football. He's the only one in the family who feels this way.

Drama Geek: 1 - He has an unhealthy fascination with my blush brush.

Nerd: 2 - Aforementioned book/music thing; also the superhero obsession.

Puberty is going to be so hard for him.

Devolution in the Maternity Ward

2007-01-15T09:34:00.000-05:00

Lest you think gestating is all about feeling baby flutter and attaining a round, happy glow, I would like to share the dark side of reproduction.

The side of pregnancy that makes you look less like this:

and more like this:

Embarrassing as it is to admit, I have more than a few stubborn chin hairs, which I meticulously remove with tweezers whenever I can see them. God help me if I ever lose my eyesight or my tweezers; I'd give my bearded husband a run for his money. But this is a sexy look, don't you think?

Well, of course pregnancy makes it worse. Something about hormones, I suppose. Last time around, the worst problem I had was that I developed linea nigra. Which was kind of neat, except that it didn't cleanly bisect my belly, but veered slightly off to one side. I am just anal retentive enough to be bothered by that, and I was glad when it finally went away after Tom was about six months old.

But today, I discovered the insult of all insults. Just above my right breast, I noticed a peculiar hair where no hair had grown before.

A dark, curly chest hair.

Aagh! It was quickly dispatched to the land of unwanted follicles, but I pray it won't come back. I can just barely handle all the testosterone in the house as it is - heaven help us if I start producing large amounts of it too.

It's bad enough that I inherited the hairy-arm gene from my PawPaw, worse yet that I keep hoping the ancient Egyptian fashion trend of uni brows will come back in style so I can give my poor tweezers a rest.

But a chest hair! Come on.

Just throw a banana in my cage every now and again, and I promise to keep my poo to myself.

Oooo eeee oooo!

Calling All Superheros

2007-01-12T12:19:00.000-05:00

We have a small obsession with superheros in our home, and it seems to have transferred to our offspring.

Tom, while proficient with more than 50 baby signs, isn't really speaking yet. He tries, except that most everything comes out sounding like "daptzzzz," with a long, spitlicious raspberry at the end.

Everything, that is, except for the names of superheros. We don't let him watch any superhero DVDs - they are pretty violent, even though they are cartoons. But boy, does he love to look at the pictures on the DVD cases. "Man!" he will shout, pointing frantically to high shelves where we keep the audio/visual supplies.

What he wants, of course, is this:
After he flips through the cases a few times, he usually loses interest and heads over to the nearest phone to make a call.

"Highs!" he says, waving away. "Batzz! (Spits forcefully all over the mouthpiece.) Mannn!" He continues having the same conversation over and over for about five minutes. The caped crusader must have the patience of a saint. Either that or my son has an in with the leaders of the Gotham underworld, and Bats is getting some good information.

His other favorite superhero is this guy:

For those of you who are not giant nerds, this is a superhero called The Flash. His superpower is that he can um ... run really fast. I know, creative.

Well, Tom LOVES The Flash. Tom has a bowl with a picture of the flash on the rim, and he'll carry it around saying "Fash, fash" and running around in a circle. He thinks it's great. I have no idea how he knows what The Flash's superpower is, since he's never seen a show featuring The Flash, nor is our precocious son reading comic books - yet.

I think it's hilarious, although it has SuperHubby a bit worried.

I say he's just getting a head start on his career. He's already training as Indestructible Boy. This child can run his head into the side of toilet, fall down a flight of stairs, and keep trooping like nothing even happened. Seriously folks, he once gave himself a black eye while removing a shoe, and didn't even cry. Hot cheese spilled on your hand, leaving a first degree burn? Brush it off! There are more important things to ~~destroy~~ do than worry over a little scalding.

And really, what career has better bragging rights for mom?

"Oh, your son's a pediatric cardiologist? That's nice. My son saved the entire world from an alien invasion last week."

What more could I want?

Will You Salute?

2007-01-11T14:52:00.000-05:00

*UPDATED*

Just running this up the flagpole ...

I am thinking of starting an online Bible study group. I led a women's Intervarsity Bible study for three years in college, and really, really enjoyed spending time in the word while getting to know other like-minded young women. The studies were non-denominational and based on workbooks.

I would participate in a Bible study here, only my church doesn't offer one. I have gone to Bible studies offered by other churches, but the reception has been friendly but strained - after all, I am not one of them. So.

I was thinking that perhaps I could start a Bible study for some of my online buddies. I would be interested if following the format with which I am most familiar - the Bible study workbook/guide. They are usually fairly inexpensive and not difficult to find.

The study would be open to all believing Christians, or to people who are interested in learning more about God's Word. We could have a weekly chat where we could discuss the questions and passages for the week - and also take some time to get to know each other on a more personal level.

Would anyone be interested in participating?

Please let me know via comments or by email at goslyn(at)gmail(dot)com.

*UPDATE*
Thank you to those of you who have shown interest. I am going to wait a few more days and see if anybody else would like to join, then I will email each of you to discuss workbook options and meeting times.

One of my posters wondered why I didn't just start a study at my own church, and I feel like I should address that question, as it is a good one.

We are Catholics, and have always been very active in our church, especially in the music ministry. I had inquired last year about starting a women's Bible study, and was told that I could do that and a priest would be happy to help me organize, etc. But with a newborn infant, I just didn't get my act together.

When a new Monsignor was assigned to our church a few months later, the feeling of the church changed. Instead of being appreciated and encouraged in the work they do to help grow the church community, active volunteers were handed lists of rules and regulations for church participation.

Although the church offers theology courses, taught by a priest, I get the strong feeling that independent Bible study groups are no longer being encouraged. So, that's why I'm not starting a study at my church.

Parenting: The Game Show Theory

2007-01-09T13:25:00.000-05:00

Wanna know how to raise intelligent, well-behaved kids, while still getting in plenty of quality time with Pat, Alex, Howie and other game show hosts?

Click here!

You may win one million dollars!

I Blame Global Warming

2007-01-06T17:55:00.000-05:00

Today has been a very unusual day around the Wishful Thinking household, and I think it has something to do with Al Gore.

Well, at least Al Gore would want to tell you about it.

The temperatures soared to the mid-70's here in eastern Pennsylvania. Our average temperature this time of year, according to NOAA?

27.1 degrees.

Everything is confused. My roses are sprouting, my iris are poking through the ground, and my gladiolas have popped their heads up, thinking that spring has surely arrived.

I spent most of the day airing out the house, taking advantage of the nice weather to get rid of that funky closed-up winter house smell that it seems only myself and my uber-sensitive pregnant nose can smell.

It's just weird to be able to open your windows in January and not freeze to death.

Then, just as my fairly elderly washer was preparing to rinse out my load of whites, it decided not to drain, and ended up spilling over onto my basement floor. Which wouldn't be a problem if my basement was empty and clean like my neighbor, E's, basement is. But no. We are packrats, or just have too much stuff or too little space or possibly all of the above. So several cardboard boxes o' crap got soaked in the process.

Now I have to decide if it is better to spend a minimum of $250 to fix the washer, or just suck it up and buy a new one for twice that. Ugh. And I have to clean out the basement. And figure out where to put this junk.

Since we've never had even a hint of trouble with this washer, I choose to believe the weird warm weather had something to do with it's demise.

Where's my snow?

Splish Splash

2007-01-04T11:28:00.000-05:00

Don't you just love it when you are using a public restroom and you are wrestling yourself and your coats and bags and toddler out of the teeny, tiny stall, and you look down to realize that he has reached into the partially-flushed toilet to splash in the water, soaking his shirt up to his elbows?

What, that doesn't happen to you?

A Kicking New Year

2007-01-02T13:34:00.000-05:00

Last night, I lay in bed watching the the bright-green numbers on the clock change. 11:52. 11:53. 11:54.

A flutter rippled across my belly, just below my navel. I waited, hardly believing what I was feeling.

Then a volley of kicks and punches errupted, and I could feel him working his way back and forth along my stomach.

"Tap, Tap, Tap" went his feet, happily tattooing out a rhythm on my abdomen.

"Thump, thump, thump," went my heart.

Happy New Year (Sort Of)

2007-01-01T22:09:00.000-05:00

There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.
- from T.S. Eliot's The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

Christmas Bug

2006-12-30T08:51:00.000-05:00

We have a family tradition around here on Christmas. Every year, at least one member of the family must be sick, sick, sick. On especially good years, we are all sick, like the year my ailing wheelchair-bound grandparents came to visit, and the entire family came down with the stomach flu. We had six very sick people, and only three toilets. Fun times.

This year, it was my turn to catch the Christmas bug. The day before my sister and her family arrived, I came down with a horrendous head cold. The bonus of being pregnant with a nasty stuffy head is that anything that even barely touches your gag reflex (like the stuff draining out of your head) makes you very sick, in an unmerry, Scrooge-riffic way.

We've done all the traditional Christmas things - we made a Yule Log and had a huge Christmas Eve feast of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding and more green bean casserole than you can imagine. (I prepared the food, but couldn't really taste it. No sense of smell = no sense of taste.) We attended a candlelight Christmas Eve service where I couldn't smell the melting wax of the candles. We had an extravagant Christmas morning brunch and opened stockings and gifts for something like 4 hours straight.

We have gone snow tubing, ice skating, bowling, Christmas lights looking, to museums, national parks and the ever-popular Ikea.

It has been a very, very good time. But I wish this Christmas cold would vanish before 2007 shows up.

Home for Christmas

2006-12-19T11:00:00.000-05:00

Guess who is supposed to be coming home today???? Zoe, my beloved laptop. Hopefully, she has a new, super duper screen. (Preferably an ubreakable one. Ha ha.)Hopefully.

If everything works the way that it is supposed to, this will mean more posting on my part! Yay! More pictures, including some of our tree, and the massive number of gifts that will not fit under the tree.

It will mean being able to make shirts for my nephews after all.

This would be a Christmas dream come true.

Life's a Gas, Literally

2006-12-15T09:51:00.000-05:00

During this pregnancy, I have had more (excuse me) ... urrrrp ... gas than I thought any human being could produce. Homer Simpson, with his lips vibrating, wavelike, while he belches, would be a good comparison to how I look most evenings after 5 p.m.

We've been joking that the baby wants to learn to burp the alphabet. Precocious boy that he is, he's having mommy learn now, so that she can teach him later. Tom is learning his alphabet the old-fashioned way, but not this baby. Nuh uh.

It seems that I will be out testosteroned in the Wishful Thinking household, with a male dog, two sons and a husband.

Our technician yesterday was absolutely wonderful, and took her time poking around to get excellent shots of all the important things - the cerebellum, the arms, hands and fingers, the eyes and mouth, the four-chamber heart. Baby's spine and femur were measured, and she even took a peek to make sure his kidneys were where they were supposed to be.

It took a couple of passes between the legs before anything was visible. For quite some time we didn't see any boy parts, and we all wondered if this would finally be the first granddaughter. But then, with the wizardry that is ultrasound, we saw the unmistakable sign that we would be having another son.

Our littlest man did not like the ultrasound wand, and kicked like crazy whenever the tech tried to focus in on him. I thought this was great, since my anterior placenta has kept me from feeling much movement to this point.

He is healthy, and sound, and likes to suck on his fingers. I can't wait to meet him, and at least I won't have to worry about Bratz dolls.

Absent

2006-12-14T12:22:00.000-05:00

A busted computer really cuts into your Internet time.

Sorry I've been gone for so long, brave and faithful readers. But I'll be back, and soon, I hope. Still no word on when Zoe will make it back home, but I'm hoping before Christmas. I really, really miss her.

On the good news front ... today is the big ultrasound! I am hoping this baby will be less modest than the Tominator, and I will be able to share with you what variety of baby we will be expecting in the spring. If you read this before 1:30 EST, think PINK please. (Boys are lovely too. But healthy is the most lovely, really.)

Ok, I hope to have something interesting to tell you in a few hours.

When Toddler Met Laptop

2006-12-04T15:57:00.000-05:00

It doesn't end as well as When Harry Met Sally.

In short, our laptop has been Tominated.

Our brand-spanking new super-computer, Zoe, once looked like this:

Now, thanks to a toddler who is 1/3 monkey, 1/3 destructo bot and 1/3 highly energetic boy, it looks like this:

I have spent two days on the phone with Dell trying to figure out where to send the thing to get it fixed. I learned that our lovely four-year warranty doesn't cover the LCD screen. So, while it will be fixed, it will cost us a pretty penny. Merry Christmas.

On top of that, Tom's biting habit has resurfaced and become really bad.

Things are not looking so good in the Wishful Thinking household right now. Anybody have some happy stories they can share to cheer me up? (Or suggestions for dealing with biting?)

Christmas Decorations No. 1

2006-11-29T23:50:00.000-05:00

I've finally gotten all the decorations up - well, except the tree. We'll wait on the grandparents for that. Can't wait to try to keep the Tominator out of that. Ugh.

This is an olivewood musical creche that my grandmother brought me from Israel when I was a little girl.

Our new stockings and the Advent calendar.

Front door wreath.

Evergreens over the mirror in the family room.

Our advent wreath. I can't find purple candles this year, so white will have to do. Trader Joe's used to sell the best purple candles this time of year; now it seems they only sell white. Bah Humbug to them too.

My mom's Santa collection. It doesn't show up well in the pictures, but it's really neat.

And last but not least, Frosty. Tom insists he's a bird, because of his pointy carrot nose. I have not been able to convince him that Frosty is, in fact, a snowman.

Back On

2006-11-28T10:57:00.000-05:00

Ok, so clearly I fell off the NaBloPoMo wagon. Eight days without a post. Arrrgh.

But I'm back, and ready to post. Thanksgiving week really threw me for a loop, and although I had plenty to write about, I just could not make myself do it. But I'll try again.

We returned from our weekend at the in-law's last night, and I finally started decorating for Christmas. The few decorations I have up look really nice; I'll post the pictures later today.

We're going to wait to do the tree until my parents arrive in a couple of weeks, but that should be fun.

The only thing I don't have any of is decent Christmas music. Any suggestions? My enitre collection consists of two grocery-store CDs from the early 90's called Christmas with the Stars, which may have a track by Mariah Carey (the only name I recognize) and Country Christmas which is just really, really bad.

Save me people! Tell me where to find some good music to put me in the holiday spirit.

Movie Review Monday

2006-11-20T15:48:00.000-05:00

You must see this movie. Seriously, get thee to a cineplex tonight. SuperHubby and I went to see it on Saturday night; I laughed until the tears ran down my face. I never quote movies, but I am constantly quoting this one.

Will Ferrell plays Harold Crick, an extremely boring IRS agent whose life is suddenly turned upside down when an omniscient narrator (Emma Thompson) begins describing his daily life. When the voice tells of his impending death, Crick embarks on a journey to find the voice and change his fate.

On his way, he meets Professor Jules Herbert (Dustin Hoffman.) Lit majors will enjoy Hoffman's scenes - he steals the show with his portrayal of an eccentric lit prof. The inventive quiz he gives Crick to see what novel he is in is one of the best scenes in the entire movie.

Although the ending is too neat, it really doesn't distract from the excellence of the rest of the show.

Go see this movie!

Wishful Thinking rating: 5 big, sparkly stars

The Name Game

2006-11-19T21:24:00.000-05:00

I know, I know, I have months to come up with a name for this baby. But I've got nothin'.

So I'm petitioning my tens of readers out there for some of their favorite names. Give me boys names. Give me girls names. Keep them in first/middle combinations if at all possible.

Give me names that I absolutely SHOULD NOT use.

And to help you out, our last name is Duck. Yeah, like the bird. Fantastic, mais non?

Happy Face

2006-11-16T12:44:00.000-05:00

My baby has a face. It's a little sad that I just realized this yesterday. Until that point, in my mind she was still a little bean, a little lump of cells without any real definition.

She's been growing inside of me for 14 weeks now, persistently asserting her independence by telling when to eat, what not to eat, and when to bring everything I've eaten back up again. When her brother was this age, I knew everything there was to know about his development. I knew when his heart started beating, when he grew eyelids and ears, when his fingerprints developed.

But things have been different with this one. I've been so busy keeping up with life that I haven't thought much about the life that is growing inside of me.

So yesterday, when I realized my baby has a face, with eyelids and a nose and a beautiful mouth, I was surprised and ecstatic. How did she grow so fast? I wondered. She would nearly fill the palm of my hand if I could hold her, but I hope not to do that for many months yet.

She has ears and fingers and toes and if I could see her, I could confirm for you that she is, in fact female. Or maybe she's really a he. It will be a while until we find out.

She is beginning to be able to hear, a feat SuperHubby was glad learn last night. "I should be singing to her," he smiled, as he pressed his mouth close to my belly. "Hi baby, this is your Daddy. Be nice to mommy."

Ma Barton's Christmas Cookies

2006-11-15T09:28:00.000-05:00

Ma Barton's Christmas Cookies

These are by far the very, very best rolled Christmas cookies I have ever tasted. They freeze beautifully - baked or unbaked - for later decorating. The icing included in the recipe is the best sugar cookie icing ever. This recipe makes a lot (about 8 dozen, depending on how big you cut them) of cookies, and is easiest to make in a stand mixer.

Preheat oven to 400.

1 c butter, softened
2 c sugar
3 eggs
2 Tbs. milk
1 tsp. vanilla

5 c flour
1 1/2 tsp. baking powder
1 1/2 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. salt

Sift together dry ingredients in a large bowl. Cream butter and sugar in mixer bowl until light and fluffy. Add eggs one at a time, beating well between each addition. Add milk and vanilla, mix well. Gradually beat in dry ingredients. Divide the dough into two or three smaller balls. Roll out on a floured surface and cut into shapes using cookie cutters. Bake 6-7 minutes, or until edges are just golden and cookies are set.

(Purists only roll the dough out twice, however, I roll and re-roll the dough until all the scraps are used, and the cookies always turn out beautifully.)

Once the cookies are cool, frost with Butter Cream Frosting.

Butter Cream Frosting
(this may be tinted for really colorful decorations)

Beat together
6 Tbs. Butter
1 lb. confectioner's sugar
1-2 tsp. vanilla
add milk 1 tbs. at a time until creamy, but still stiff enough to decorate with.

Once you have the cookies decorated, let them sit at least 2 hours to dry completely before storing in a covered container.

Spicy

2006-11-13T09:51:00.001-05:00

This song is stuck in my head.

The Tominator and I were busy making chili this morning, when I noticed he had gotten a hold of one of my spice jars. The lid was on, so I let him play.

When I looked over a minute later, he had removed the lid and liberally shaken the herb all over the kitchen floor.

"Oh no!" I said. "Let's keep the thyme in the bottle."

And there it was.

Mothering Advice

2006-11-12T16:47:00.000-05:00

Owlhaven asked: “What advice or information do you wish you had received to prepare you for motherhood? Or, on the contrary, what advice do you think women soon to become mothers should not be given?”

The best advice I can give is to practice patience. As a new mother, nothing comes as quickly as you expect it to. Breastfeeding is worth it, but it's a lot of effort in the beginning. Your body will take a while to go back to its prepregnancy shape. Have patience. Everything will work out.

Plan to spend the first month doing little more than feeding the baby, changing the baby, feeding yourself, and sleeping. Everything else - laundry, cleaning, reorganizing the attic - can and will wait. Be patient with yourself. If you plan on a "free" month, anything you do get accomplished during that time will be a great bonus! Let go of your to-do lists.

Take time to marvel in your baby's smallness. They are tiny and dependent for such a short time - I wish I had spent more time holding my son when he was tiny. At 15 months he doesn't much want to cuddle with momma anymore.

And finally, listen to advice, but listen to yourself more. Tons of people will be willing to tell you what to do and how to do it; some people (family members especially) may have very strong opinions on the "correct" way to raise a child.

Tip: there is no one correct way to raise a child.

Follow your heart. If your mother insists that you should let your 4-week-old infant "cry it out," but you don't agree, thank her for her advice and continue doing whatever works for you. No baby has ever turned out wrong from attention and love.

Believe in yourself; you can do this! And when that 3 am waking is driving you up a wall, hold your baby and pray. It helped me to have a "memorized" prayer to rely on in the middle of the night - like the Lord's prayer. That way I didn't have to get all creative. But it doesn't really matter HOW you reach out to God, just do it. God will not give you a greater burden than you can carry.

Have You Hugged a Veteran Today?

2006-11-11T19:38:00.000-05:00

My PawPaw served his country with honor during World War II. He never saw foreign soil, but he trained hundreds of young men who did. During the war, the US arms supply was so low that he trained his men with broomsticks, because they had no guns. Even under those circumstances, he, and the men he trained, made a difference.

This is the flag that draped the caisson when he was interred at Arlington National Cemetery.

I have a dear family friend who is a young marine serving in Iraq right now. This is his third tour, and every night I pray he will make it home safe and unharmed, as he has before. He is on or near the front lines, and I often find myself holding my breath when I come across lists of the dead.

Men and women like my grandfather and my friend spend their lives protecting our nation. Remember to thank a veteran today.

Nine Weird Things

2006-11-10T11:32:00.000-05:00

Heth tagged me for this meme a while ago, so now I will tell you just how strange I am. Although I am not sure I can top Chili's number one weird thing. Really. Check it out.

* I edited number 7 after reading Chili's comment *

1. I have a terrible memory, and if I don't write something down, it's completely gone. I frequently forget doctor's appointments, dates with friends and birthdays because of this trait.

2. Having a poor memory makes me an excellent person to hear secrets. I would be the ultimate confessor, because I would never remember anyone's sins longer than a day or two.

3. Before I had children, I walked around with a running commentary in my head, sort of like a voice-over in a movie. I think I was a cross between Walter Mitty and Will Farrell.

4. Since I have become a mother, my voice-over has been drowned out by repeated singing of "The Wheels on the Bus."

5. I have secretly looked forward to wearing maternity clothes again, because most of them are inherited from other people and are in styles that I would not normally buy for myself. It's like 6 months of dress up.

6. If it's only immediate family in the house (myself, SuperHubby, Tominator) I rarely close the bathroom door.

7. I prefer to sleep in my all together (you know, my birthday suit. Also known as naked. Wonder what this line will do to my Google hits?)

8. Some of my closest friends are IM buddies whom I have never met.

9. I get very irritated with people who put on a show and pretend they are something that they are not. With me, what you see is pretty much what you get, cluttered home and all.

And here is an amazingly accurate personality quiz:

Your Five Factor Personality Profile

Extroversion:

You have medium extroversion.
You're not the life of the party, but you do show up for the party.
Sometimes you are full of energy and open to new social experiences.
But you also need to hibernate and enjoy your "down time."

Conscientiousness:

You have medium conscientiousness.
You're generally good at balancing work and play.
When you need to buckle down, you can usually get tasks done.
But you've been known to goof off when you know you can get away with it.

Agreeableness:

You have high agreeableness.
You are easy to get along with, and you value harmony highly.
Helpful and generous, you are willing to compromise with almost anyone.
You give people the benefit of the doubt and don't mind giving someone a second chance.

Neuroticism:

You have medium neuroticism.
You're generally cool and collected, but sometimes you do panic.
Little worries or problems can consume you, draining your energy.
Your life is pretty smooth, but there's a few emotional bumps you'd like to get rid of.

Openness to experience:

Your openness to new experiences is medium.
You are generally broad minded when it come to new things.
But if something crosses a moral line, there's no way you'll approve of it.
You are suspicious of anything too wacky, though you do still consider creativity a virtue.

The Five Factor Personality Test

I tag: Mopsy, Jess and Jill, if you haven't done this already.

The Itsy Squishy Spider

2006-11-09T23:55:00.001-05:00

I crawled my hands across the floor, imitating a spider as I sang "the itsy bitsy spider." The song is one of Tom's favorites, and generally reduces him to a rolling ball of laughter.

But today, Tom had other plans for spidey. With great concentration, he raised his right foot and stomped down, just inches from my fingers. When he saw that he had missed, he picked up the foot and tried again.

Spiders of the world, beware. My son is out to get you.

Kitchen Help

2006-11-08T09:12:00.000-05:00

Tired of a fussy toddler pulling at your legs while you try to cook or do the dishes? A nice step stool will generally solve your problems. The Tominator loves to help me cook, and we even get in some math practice when we bake.

Whenever he's being particularly difficult, I ask him to get his stool and help me cook. He always runs right out to the sun porch and tries to bring his stool in, even though it's much to big for him to do. Once we get him set up, he is happy as a clam. He has helped me make pizza (although he ate all the olives off before it got to the oven,) brownies, cakes, apple pie and a million other things. It's a great way to keep him entertained and educate him at the same time.

For instance, if we are baking from scratch, I let him help me scoop out the flour, baking soda and spices, counting as we go. Then I let him help stir the dough or batter. Sometimes he makes a bit of a mess, but that is cleaned up easily enough.

Don't forget to check out more Works for Me Wednesday tips over at Rocks in My Dryer.

Confessions of a Bad Mom

2006-11-06T20:55:00.000-05:00

Today was not an easy day in the Thinking household. My sweet fetus apparently did not get the message that she is supposed to stop torturing me after the first trimester; thus I spent most of my day on the couch or hiding in bed, attempting not to lose my breakfast.

The rest of the day was spent battling a screaming, biting, tantrum-throwing toddler.

By the time dinner rolled around, I had just about had it. Tommy said he was hungry, I set him in his high chair and dished up some ham and navy bean soup. Two bites in he started screaming. Just screetching. I could not figure out what was wrong. He was still eating, but every bite was puncutated with high pitched shrieks.

I threatened time-out if he didn't stop. I yelled. I ignored him. But after about 20 minutes, I decided I'd had enough and it was time for dinner to be over. When I picked him up out of his high chair, I noticed his diaper felt like it needed changing. So upstairs we went.

Imagine my surpise and shame when I discovered that Tom's endless screams were not the result of temper, but the result of a horrible, bright red diaper rash. A new diaper and a little cream turned my screaming boy into a sweet thing once again.

I feel like such a bad mom.

A New Phrase

2006-11-05T18:53:00.000-05:00

When I came home from the grocery tonight, the full moon was so beautiful. I came inside and bundled Tom in his coat, then took him outside to see the moon. SuperHubby came too, but somehow in the exiting procedure, SuperMutt escaped. Off he ran through the moonlit streets, stopping only long enough to lift a leg here or there.

Tom and I said, "Goodnight, moon!" and strolled along the sidewalk, while SuperHubby and SuperMutt had a Benny Hill-style chase through the neighborhood. When the dog finally gave up the chase and allowed himself to be caught, I scolded him.

"Bad Dog!" I said. "Bad, bad dog!"

Coltrane went to his kennel. A few moments later, Tom followed. "Ba dog, ba ba ba!" he said, standing outside the dog's kennel. Then he turned to me and made the signs for dog eat. "Cookie?" he asked.

Explaining to a one year old that naughty dogs don't get cookies is harder than you would imagine. Tom was adamant that the dog should have a cookie. He stomped. He pleaded. He screamed.

Ah, for the love of a bad dog.

The Big Sentence

2006-11-04T11:18:00.000-05:00

Today, the Tominator uttered his first sentence. He has been signing in sentences for weeks, letting us know, for instance, when the dog is eating, but he has never so much as uttered more than one word in a row.

Until this morning.

He had dumped out a carton of toys, and carefully placed each one back in the container. When he had finished, he closed the lid and said, "all done."

How cool is that?

Me me

2006-11-03T19:51:00.000-05:00

Stole this from Mopsy. What should I do next, do you think?

01. Bought everyone in the bar a drink
02. Swam with wild dolphins
03. Climbed a mountain
04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive
05. Been inside the Great Pyramid
06. Held a tarantula
07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone
08. Said “I love you” and meant it
09. Hugged a tree
10. Bungee jumped
11. Visited Paris
12. Watched a lightning storm at sea
13. Stayed up all night long and saw the sun rise
14. Seen the Northern Lights
15. Gone to a huge sports game (and survived the crush afterwards)
16. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa
17. Grown and eaten your own vegetables
18. Touched an iceberg (no, but I touched a glacier. Does that count?)
19. Slept under the stars
20. Changed a baby’s diaper
21. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon
22. Watched a meteor shower
23. Gotten drunk on champagne
24. Given more than you can afford to charity
25. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
26. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment
27. Had a food fight
28. Bet on a winning horse
29. Asked out a stranger
30. Had a snowball fight
31. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
32. Held a lamb
33. Seen a total eclipse
34. Ridden a roller coaster
35. Hit a home run
36. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking
37. Adopted an accent for an entire day
38. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment
39. Had two hard drives for your computer
40. Visited all 50 states
41. Taken care of someone who was drunk.
42. Had amazing friends
43. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country
44. Watched wild whales
45. Stolen a sign
46. Backpacked in Europe.
47. Taken a road-trip
48. Gone rock climbing
49. Midnight walk on the beach
50. Gone sky diving
51. Visited Ireland
52. Been heartbroken longer than you were actually in love
53. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger’s table and had a meal with them
54. Visited Japan
55. Milked a cow
56. Alphabetized your CDs
57. Pretended to be a superhero
58. Sung karaoke
59. Lounged around in bed all day
60. Played touch football
61. Gone scuba diving
62. Kissed in the rain
63. Played in the mud
64. Played in the rain
65. Gone to a drive-in theater
66. Visited the Great Wall of China
67. Started a business
68. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken
69. Toured ancient sites
70. Taken a martial arts class
71. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight
72. Gotten married
73. Been in a movie
74. Crashed a party
75. Gotten divorced
76. Gone without food for 5 days
77. Made cookies from scratch
78. Won first prize in a costume contest
79. Ridden a gondola in Venice (been there, didn't ride a gondola. How lame is that?)
80. Gotten a tattoo
81. Rafted the Snake River
82. Been on television news programs as an “expert”
83. Got flowers for no reason
84. Performed on stage
85. Been to Las Vegas
86. Recorded music
87. Eaten shark
88. Kissed on the first date
89. Gone to Thailand
90. Bought a house
91. Been in a combat zone
92. Buried one/both of your parents
93. Been on a cruise ship
94. Spoken more than one language fluently
95. Performed in Rocky Horror
96. Raised children
97. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour
99. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country
100. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over
101. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge
102. Sang loudly in the car, and didn’t stop when you knew someone was looking
103. Had plastic surgery
104. Survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived
105. Wrote articles for a large publication
106. Lost over 100 pounds
107. Held someone while they were having a flashback
108. Piloted an airplane
109. Touched a stingray
110. Broken someone’s heart
111. Helped an animal give birth
112. Won money on a T.V. game show
113. Broken a bone
114. Gone on an African photo safari
115. Had a facial part pierced other than your ears
116. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol
117. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild
118. Ridden a horse
119. Had major surgery
120. Had a snake as a pet
121. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon
122. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours
123. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states
124. Visited all 7 continents
125. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days
126. Eaten kangaroo meat
127. Eaten sushi
128. Had your picture in the newspaper
129. Changed someone’s mind about something you care deeply about
130. Gone back to school
131. Parasailed
132. Touched a cockroach
133. Eaten fried green tomatoes
134. Read The Iliad - and the Odyssey
135. Selected one “important” author who you missed in school, and read
136. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
137. Skipped all your school reunions
138. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language
139. Been elected to public office
140. Written your own computer language
141. Thought to yourself that you’re living your dream
142. Had to put someone you love into hospice care
143. Built your own PC from parts
144. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn’t know you
145. Had a booth at a street fair
146. Dyed your hair
147. Been a DJ
148. Shaved your head
149. Caused a car accident
150. Saved someone’s life

Are You Prepared?

2006-11-02T13:16:00.001-05:00

Elections are in 5 days. Do you know who you're voting for? Do you have good reasons for voting for him/her? Have you looked at your candidate's stance on issues across the board, or have you narrowly focused on one issue? Are you voting strictly on the fact that you think the person is moral?

Before you vote, make sure you know where your candidate really stands. I love this ad from AARP that I saw this morning. It actually made me laugh out loud.

If you don't feel that you know enough about the candidates in your local races, check out vote-smart.org before you hit the polls Tuesday. (Hat tip to Heth for the link.)

And no matter WHO you're voting for, head to the polls Tuesday. The people need to be heard. All of us.

This advertisement was approved by Goslyn. Please don't vote for me.

Love Songs for Tommy

2006-11-01T18:31:00.000-05:00

Last night, as I relaxed in a warm bath, I listened to the music drifting up the stairs and wafting under the bathroom door. SuperHubby had caved to Tom's demand for guitar music, and was singing away to our son. I heard Tom's favorite If You're Happy and You Know It, and then I think a rendetion of Wheels on the Bus.

SuperHubby tooled around with a few other melodies before breaking into Pure Prairie League's Amy, What Ya Gonna Do? Tom's laughter bubbled up through the steam in the bathroom, and I smiled.

An Eyeful of Sympathy

2006-10-31T18:04:00.000-05:00

Q: What is better than having someone stand outside the bathroom door and laugh hysterically as you vomit?

A: Having someone stand beside you in the bathroom and watch you vomit because you didn't get the bathroom door closed fast enough. It's really good when, tired of trying to catch the stuff coming out of your mouth, that little someone decides to stick his little razor-tipped fingers in your eyes each time you retch. So helpful.

I Dreamed a Little Dream of You

2006-10-30T06:10:00.000-05:00

Yes, you. If you are a regular reader (and commenter) of this blog, chances are good that you have recently appeared in my dreams. I think I am jealous of all the blogging ladies getting to meet their blogging buddies in real life, like Chili and Shannon did this weekend.

This morning, our featured player was Mopsy from Lifenut. I was supposed to be helping her put her children to bed, as her husband was busy at work. In real life, she has six children, but in my dream ... she had 10. We did ok. The kids went to sleep, eventually.

Ok, this sounded much more exciting when I woke up at 5:30 this morning.

Birthday Boy

2006-10-28T20:13:00.000-04:00

Today, my wonderful Daddy celebrates 68 years of living life to the fullest. This is a man who has been a teacher, a firefighter, an EMT, a school principal, a stained glass artist, a handyman of the highest order and now spends his retirement renovating churches, schools and homes on a volunteer basis.

My Daddy is a quiet man. He's never had much to say, but he's also never missed a chance to lead by example. He works hard and plays hard, and has never, ever made me feel like an afterthought.

When I was a little girl, too young to read, he would read the comics to me over breakfast, describing the pictures and then telling me what the word bubbles said. Later, in high school, he and I ate breakfast together every morning. I don't remember what we talked about, or even if we talked at all, but he was always there.

In middle school, we rode the Cycle Across Maryland tour twice - once on separate bikes and once on a tandem. Even though he was (and still is) an excellent bicyclist, he never left me behind so that he could ride with the faster guys and finish at the head of the pack. He rode beside me every minute of every mile, encouraging me when I was tired or walking beside me when I had to push my bike up a hill. The year we rode the tandem we had these really fun tie-die bicycle shirts, and we made quite a pair. I think riding across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge on the back of that tandem is still one of my favorite memories of all time.

A couple of years ago, he rebuilt my kitchen for me, including making custom counter tops. Let me tell you, it was so much fun to see how he did that. I had no idea how counter tops are made. It is not easy or quick. My kitchen is now perfect and amazing, and there is no way I could have done it without him. (Or mom, or SuperHubby, or the rest of the team, for that matter. But Dad did most of the manual labor himself.) Here are some before and after shots of the great work Daddy did in the kitchen. (Note: the decorations in the before pictures are not ours - they are what the house looked like when we purchased it, with the previous owners' stuff still in it.)

Before

After

Before

After

Before

After

So, happy birthday, Dad. You are a fantastic dad and a wonderful Pops. I love you very much.

Breakfast Blessing

2006-10-28T08:51:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I bought eggs from a market I don't usually frequent. I am not brand specific, so I buy whichever eggs are a good price.

As I cracked an egg this morning to make my goat cheese omelet, I noticed a strange message inside the carton.

It's silly, but suddenly my gray, dreary rainy day looked just a bit brighter. So, thanks, Mr. Heister at Lewistown Valley Egg Ranch. The ranch is a locally owned farm, and if they had a website, I would link it. Since they don't, I'll ask any of my readers in eastern central PA to make a beeline to your nearest Valley Farm Market and support these guys. I love it. (PS, the eggs are good, too.)

Linklicious

2006-10-24T12:21:00.000-04:00

I have three new favorite reads that I hope all of you will check out.

Scribbit is an amusing Alaskan who has wonderful stories about her family as well as gorgeous photos of thier adventures. Her recipes look fantastic, too. Take a second and go say hi. She's worth it.

The Wallpaper of My Mind is a great site that I only recently stumbled across. She has decided to spend more time Mommying and less time blogging, and thus only updates on Fridays. But she's worth the wait.

Total Mom Haircut is a funny, funny lady with great stories about her impossibly cute offspring, Sam. Don't miss her story about strollercizing.

Random Photos and a Pumpkin Patch

2006-10-20T07:25:00.000-04:00

We had visitors last weekend, and in a celebration of all things autumnal, we decided to take a trip to a local pumpkin patch. The weather was perfectly crisp, and I had visions of Tom tromping through the pumpkin patch as happy as could be.
But Tom had other ideas. If you click on the picture, you should be able to see him bawling his little head off in the middle of the pumpkins. My kid is not all about squash.

I did, however, get a pretty shot of the orange pumpkins and blue, blue sky.

He had a little more fun with the petting zoo - he really liked the llamas. But he was still more interested in the wheels on the big tractor parked next to the petting zoo than he was in the animals. I wish we'd gotten a picture of his face when he saw the tractor.

Even if Tom didn't have the best time at the farm, the adults enjoyed ourselves. We had planned to pick apples in the orchard, but the line for the buses was very long, and we didn't feel like sitting through all that with an infant and a toddler. So we just bought apples at the fruit stand instead. Samantha assured me the apples were just as good as if we had picked them ourselves.

And this is what Tommy likes to do for fun on our french door.

14 Months of Sympathy

2006-10-12T10:00:00.000-04:00

Last night, just as I was about to pull dinner from the oven, I was overcome by a sudden urge to worship at the porcelain throne of St. John. I dashed to the loo, closing the door behind me.

I retched, I kecked, I moaned. And from the other side of the door, I heard lilting laughter. He chortled. He guffawed. At me.

I hadn't had much to eat, but that didn't keep my stomach from trying to revolt, again and again. And each time, the laughter followed me. Apparently listening to your mother throw up is hil.ar.i.ous.

Oh the love.

My Fetus is Trying to Kill Me

2006-10-09T21:49:00.000-04:00

I had planned a wonderful, happy, babyriffic post to tell the world about the next duckling in the queue. The one who will arrive sometime in May.

The one who is currently running a full-court press for matricide.

Early life with the Tominator wasn't this bad. I wasn't 100%, and I was absolutely exhausted, but at least I could eat. In fact, there were foods I wanted to eat. Fried mozzarella sticks, primarily. And beef. And chips with french onion dip, which threw SuperHubby for a serious loop, since I never eat potato chips.

But this baby? Oh no. Apparently this baby feels that anything in excess of half a cup of wonton soup is too much to handle. Maybe she's planning to be an itty-bitty string bean of a ballerina. I dunno, I just wish she'd let me eat something.

Anyhow, so that's my good news. Whoopee!

What My Weekend Was Not

2006-10-06T10:33:00.000-04:00

Well, our weekend away was not the cable TV gorge-fest I had anticipated, but it was still a great weekend.

I guess after so many years of living a cableless life, I had forgotten just how pointless most television shows are. SuperHubby said my standards have become much higher, and I was sorely disappointed in the selection, even though I had upwards of 70 channels to choose from.

But cable TV was not the point of the weekend. The point of the weekend was to get away and visit with our friends, and that part was lovely beyond lovely.

The wedding was gorgeous, and the bride was one of the prettiest I have ever seen.

The reception was lovely and the food was delicious. Catching up with our friends was the best part, though. I had real adult conversations, not punctuated by "hold on just a moment" while I ran frantically after the Tominator. I sat through a whole meal, and only had to feed myself. Oh, the joy.

The purse I carried? Tiny! So small I could only fit a tube of lipstick and a compact in it. No shoulder-pulling diaper bag for me! I was a liberated woman for 48 whole hours.

After the wedding, SuperHubby and I crashed in our hotel room for a late-afternoon nap. When we woke up (of our own accord, not to the baby cry that is our standard at-home alarm) we decided to dine out at a local Italian resturant. We lived on the edge and ordered brick-oven pizza with spinach and tiramisu for dessert. Yummy. The resturant served water in mason jars with long tubes of pasta as straws. That part kind of creeped me out, because by the end of dinner, my straw was melting into my drink. Plus, as a veteran straw-chewer, I was thwarted in my attempts to gnaw on the end of the pasta without biting off nasty soggy raw pasta.

But other than that the meal was good.

On Sunday, we got up and went to church, and I got to sit through the WHOLE service and actually listen to the sermon. I did not have to read The Very Hungry Catepillar in an undertone, or entice a wiggly 14 month old behind to sit on the pew beside me. I did not have to leave church while the priest blessed communion, because I did not have someone sitting on my lap who wanted to loudly "help."

And then we went home, and what a homecoming we had! The Tominator's grin nearly split his face in two, and I wasn't sure he would ever unlock his little arms from around my neck. Can't beat that with a stick, I tell you.

Weekend for Two

2006-09-27T20:19:00.000-04:00

In approximately 36 hours, SuperHubby and I will pack the car, wave goodbye to our adorable progeny, and head west for two delightful days and nights all by ourselves.
We are singing at a wedding of some dear friends, and decided that we should turn it into a romantic getaway destination, even if it is to the middle-of-nowhere Pennsylvania.

Grammy and Grandpa have volunteered to come and sit for the Tominator for the weekend, so we know he'll be in good hands.

Let me just tell you, two whole nights of uninterrupted sleep is sounding very good right now. Especially since I haven't been feeling very well.

But do you know what I'm looking looking forward to the most? Not 12 solid hours of uninterrupted snuggle time with my sweetie. Not restaurant-prepared, planned and served meals. Not even using a bathroom with a full-sized tub.

It's the cable TV. It's sad, but true. We don't have cable, by choice. But man, the cable is the best part of going to a hotel. I get my comedy central/Jon Stewart/HGTV fixes, and I'm gold. I do love to vegetate.

Ahhhh. TV.

Cross-Country Dreamin'

2006-09-21T10:20:00.000-04:00

Ok, so turns out it's not only Daring Young Mom who gets to be featured in my dreamlife. Apparently Chilihead wanted in on the action, since she showed up in a classic convertable last night.

We had our very own Thelma and Louise moment, except without the shooting and murdering and the cop chases. Yeah. It was just like that, only not at all.

But we had a really good time driving across country. You may not know it, but Chili is very funny. She should totally have her own stand up routine.

You may be pleased to know that Miss Chili, although stunning in her Groucho Marx glasses, is also really good at keeping her secret idenitity without them. Throughout the entire dream, I only saw the back of her head or the side of her face, so I still don't know what she looks like. Crazy.

So, as much fun as I'm having meeting some of my blogging idols in my dreams, I would love to meet some of them in person someday!

Wednesday Joy

2006-09-20T11:29:00.000-04:00

This morning, just shy of dawn, I heard my son stirring in his crib. He was chattering sorrowfully to his stuffed duck. I cracked open my heavy eyelids and prayed he'd go back to sleep.

"Just 30 minutes more," I silently begged. "Just 30 minutes more."

But his pathetic conversation continued, and I there was no way I could leave him in his crib when he sounded so sad.

I hauled myself out of bed and down the stairs to his room. He was laying on his stomach in his crib, running his hand along the rails like a prisoner runs a tin cup along the bars of his jail cell.

My half-asleep heart melted.

I bundled him up and carried him and his duck downstairs, where we set up shop on the couch. He promptly snuggled down on my chest and went right back to sleep. And so did I.

What a lovely way to spend my morning - stretched out on my couch, cradling my baby.