Someone's in the Kitchen....

Well, so tonight I had HELP in the kitchen. Remember last night when I said tv was my friend during dinner prep? Yeah, it didn’t work tonight. The girls (ages 2 and 4, remember) decided they wanted to help. And blame it on temporary insanity, I didn’t chase them out. Or bribe them with snacks. I let them stay in there. And “help.” I was making quiche (bacon and swiss…can’t wait to see how it turns out!), and I figured it was probably something I could handle their kind of help with.

We survived. I’m fairly certain supper survived, too, but we’ll have to see. It smells good, at least! I do think that I said “no, don’t do that!” and “no, put that down!” about a million times. And I have no idea how I ended up needing to wash 6 different measuring cups and three measuring spoons when I think I only used a couple! Well, other than the fact that that particular drawer is directly in front of where they were standing, so spoons and cups kept coming out to be dipped in the bowl. Grrrr. If and when I do this again, we’ll have to rethink the standing areas!

I’m fairly certain they enjoyed it, though. And with any luck, having helped fix it will make it more appealing to eat. My kids are not terribly picky eaters…they’re just random. Things they loved at one meal might easily take 2 hours to eat at another. Since I’m on my own for supper tonight, without the mean voice of Daddy to back me up, I’m truly hoping for easy!

Especially since getting supper ready was so decidedly NOT easy!

Let There Be Peace On Earth (or at least in my living room)

I’m currently enjoying my favorite time of day. The after school rush is done. This involves post-nap temper tantrums from the girls – pretty much daily – because they woke up and Grandma isn’t here anymore. It’s a great ego boost for me, let me tell ya. Each and every day. Occasionally it involves a snack, too, usually as the bribe to stop crying. They need one, though, because it’s basketball season now, remember, and supper is late. So it's justified. Really.

So now those things are out of the way, and all three kids are in front of the tv. Some days that’s simply so I can know they’re not getting into trouble while I’m in the kitchen trying to get supper fixed. Today it’s “Martha Speaks.” And today, soup is already bubbling on the stove, and I’m here at my computer. So today is even better than usual, because I get to sit here with them, enjoying them enjoy the story. And learn about the word “ominous.”

I’ve heard all the warnings about too much tv, but I just love that my kids learn about those extra things that it doesn’t occur to me to try to teach! Several years ago, T1 was 3 or 4 years old and we had just gotten in the van and were driving out of the neighborhood. He was in the back with one of those “find it” toys.

By the way, if you have small children and haven’t gotten one of these, I strongly recommend it! They are awesome for trips, although there is the danger of whacking oneself in the head during the vigorous shaking motion that remixes everything in the tube and allows different objects to be found. Don’t ask how we know that. It was painful for one small child. And hilarious. But don’t tell them I’m still laughing about it!

Anyway, he’s looking through the tube, searching for the objects, and I hear his voice, “Mommy, I am engwossed. I am thinking of this and nothing else! Engwossed.” When I finally sorted through the small-child-pronunciation and discovered he was saying “engrossed,” I cracked up. And pulled out the cell phone to call and tell “daddy.” Thank you Pinky-Dinky-Doo for a lovely moment of mother-son time! And thank you childrens’ programming for providing me with a few moments of peace in my day!

This moment has been brought to you by the letter C and the number 3!

Ah, moment over – chaos begins again.

You're Never Fully Dressed Without A Smile

In the midst of everything else last week, I missed an important anniversary in my life. Four years ago, on October 13 (Friday, October 13…not typically superstitious, but this one about changed that!), I got Bell’s Palsy. This is a paralysis of the facial muscles on one side of the face/neck. It comes on pretty suddenly – in my case, I first noticed it when I was talking on the phone and my mouth felt funny. As the day went on, I could move less and less, until I could no longer move anything on that side of my face. I couldn’t talk easily, couldn’t blink, couldn’t smile. It was devastating. I knew what it was, knew it was not truly harmful, and knew that it was supposed to only be temporary, and I was still devastated.

It’s hard to explain how it feels to have BP. On the surface, it seems to not be anything major – it’s not fatal and not permanent, what’s the big deal? Oh, but it’s a big deal. I smile as easily as I cry (and I do that very easily, remember?), and suddenly I was faced with the complete inability to smile. At all. The emotions were still there, but the result of the attempt was just scary-looking. So I (mostly) quit trying.

You know what happens when you stop smiling? You stop feeling happy. Okay, I’m sure other things play into that – things like feeling completely conspicuous and self-conscious, and flat out feeling ugly – but the act of smiling does make a difference in your attitude. And walking around everywhere with a frown – because that’s the only facial expression that looks even sort of symmetrical during BP – tends to make you feel sad. Your insides match your face.

For four solid weeks, there was absolutely no movement on the right side of my face, and not a sign of improvement. My greatest blessing during this time is that I was on maternity leave (C was a week old when the BP started), so I didn’t have to get out very much, and didn’t have to stand in front of a class of middle school students every day and try to teach. I mostly hid out at home and enjoyed my new baby. (And cried!)

When the first twitches of movement started to come back, I was pathetically thrilled. Up to that point, I hadn’t quite been able to believe that it wasn’t permanent. It was slow…painfully slow…but over the next few months my smile (and my blink, and the ability to talk without slurring) began to come back. A few months later, I was mostly to the point that most people no longer noticed my lop-sided-ness first thing (although it was still very obvious to me). After 18 months or so, I stopped needing a straw to drink. Now, four years later, even I can hardly tell I had it…other than the fact that I have a few less wrinkles on my forehead on that side! Good thing I didn’t know back then how long it would take to get to this point!

I will confess that I can still work myself into a complete meltdown if I dwell too long on the thought of having to face it again. Mostly I try to avoid those thoughts…there’s no known cause, so no way to protect myself…I might as well just appreciate (and I do) the ability to smile now that I have it back.

(But if on some horrible morning I wake up with it again, it would be really nice if it hits the other side of my face…you know, to even out those wrinkles!!)

I'm In A Hurry

I’m not Super-Mom. I don’t even try to be. In fact, my version of “super-mom” is to feel spectacularly proud of myself when I manage to cook supper and get the kitchen clean again before bed. I do have a full-time job besides mothering.

And I will take a time-out right now to say that you could write a whole series of blog posts about whether moms should work outside the home or not. I do. It works for us. It works wonderfully for us…because my mother-in-law is our child-care. I’m not sure what we’d do otherwise, quite honestly. I try not to think about it very often! I often wish for the opportunity to be home with my kids, but I’ve decided to be grateful for the chance I have to work at a job I enjoy and still have summers and vacations home with my kids. Anyway, that wasn’t where I was headed.

I am fortunate enough to have a teaching job that doesn’t involve a ton of grading papers or work at home. I do have frequent concerts and extra events, but outside of that, when I’m home with my kids, I’m not thinking about work.

No, I’m thinking about cleaning, or working out, or facebook, or blogging. Or taking a nap. (Thinking about the nap, not doing.)

Are there people out there that juggle things well? Are there even stay-at-home moms who manage to juggle things well? (Because, honestly? I think even if I were home with my kids during the day, I’d still never feel like I could get everything done. I’d probably just end up setting the bar higher!)

I know I’m not completely alone…I read tons of articles and blogs about moms in the same spot I am. But still. How fun would it be to actually get it all done? To have a clean, clutter-free house (and hey, I’d settle for clutter-free and not-so-clean if I could get just that far!), to work out each day and know we were eating well, to have a new blog post each day, AND quality time with my family! Oh, and to be in bed by 9. Because if my brain’s going to quit on me at that time each night, I might as well just get in bed then, too.

I’ve got some ideas…some plans…a few routines…and a little bit of discipline. So far, that means that I might manage to get cleaning and blogging done, or working out and supper, but not all of the above. Just depends on where the motivation is on that particular day. Today it was cleaning and cooking. And now the blogging.

Hmmmm….I don’t think I’ll share just how long it’s been since I was motivated in the direction of our elliptical. I’ll just leave you to guess while I go snuggle my kids for a few minutes before I happily send them off to bed. Goodnight!

That's My Story....

I’m hanging out on Memory Lane for a few more days. If you’re not related to me, hang in there…one of these days, I’ll write about something besides my family again. (And really, how many of you reading aren’t related to me?!?)

I love this picture. See the good looking guy in uniform on the end? That’s my granddad. That’s Aunt Ruth in front of him. Yes, he’s pinching her butt. No, he didn’t confess to that himself (not that I ever got around to asking him). That’s her story, and I’m sticking to it. Besides, it’s what I figured was happening when I came across this picture last year. It just fits their relationship. Not that I ever saw him pinch her butt in MY lifetime. That would have been horribly embarrassing. No, they just seemed to have a special kind of bond.

In fact, they even married another pair of siblings. Yeah, that probably had more to do with their special bond with those particular people, but you get the idea. And that meant that whether Granddad’s family was having a get-together, or Grandmother’s family, both couples and their kids were there, so that bond continued throughout the years. Which meant that as I grew up, we had a special bond with Aunt Ruth also.

We traveled through Oklahoma often when I was a kid. I don’t think it was always “on the way” to where we were going, but we made it on our way. And we always stayed with Aunt Ruth (her husband died when I was still fairly young. I have only vague memories of him). I loved it. She had a closed-in porch on the back of her house, with a storm cellar and a fish pond. I’m not sure which fascinated me more. I was an east coast girl at the time, so I was not well acquainted with the idea of the storm cellar. And hers was serious business, with a heavy crank handle that opened and closed it, and big concrete steps leading down. I’m fairly certain we begged to have it opened every time we were there, but I can only remember going down there once or twice. It was creepy. And fortunately, we were never there in a real storm. (Not too many years after she moved out of that house a huge tornado wiped out entire streets just a few blocks away. I’ve always wondered who was living there at the time, and how grateful they were to her for having that thing put in.) The fish pond….well…it just amazed me that it was inside. I thought it was so cool, and loved to watch her feed the fish. For some reason, I also really loved her green carpet, and was thrilled when my first apartment had the same color carpet.

My brother and I saw the movie Short Circuit for the first time at her house. I remember that, because I remember rewinding and rewatching that laughter-on-the-top-of-the-mountain scene until we couldn’t breathe enough to laugh any more. Can’t remember that scene? Go rent the movie. Preferably with young kids who will get tickled and laugh until you all cry.

When I was in college, I spent a couple different weekends at her house. I wish now I’d gone more, but I didn’t have a car, and hated to ask her to drive up and get me. Once she took me down to the town my Grandmother grew up in, and we ate lunch with some of Grandmother’s family. I have some really special memories of my times with her.

Some people in my life have mentioned that she and I are similar. I’m sure it had to do with size. And spunk. I’m sure it had nothing to do with the fact that she was “ornery.”

I don’t know if she was told that Granddad had died…she had been very much out of it for a long time. She rarely recognized anyone who came to visit her, and hadn’t been able to speak. But only four days after he died, she followed him. Maybe her spirit was enough already in Heaven that she knew he was gone. I wonder if she’d been trying to hang around so he wouldn’t be alone. I like to imagine that she walked into Heaven and discovered to her surprise that Granddad had gotten there before her. And knowing her, she probably gave him more than a little grief for going first! I like to picture her walking, and without her oxygen tank and tubes, and with all the pep and energy I remember her having all those years ago.

I hope Heaven was ready for her.

I know it’s looking more appealing to us every day.