Some Time Away

Day 9--I am so thankful for my mother and sister!

This morning, Little Miss and I hopped into the car and drove the 5+ hours to Colonial Williamsburg.  We met up with my mother and sister for our annual (ish) girl's weekend.  This year, we are initiating Little Miss to what has become a tradition of laughter, chocolate and relaxation--with plenty of shopping and stops for Punch Royale (not for Little Miss...).

I am so thankful for this weekend with my family. Already, we have spent the night laughing though a delicious dinner and buying dozens of books.  Tomorrow is supposed to be in the high 60s and sunny.  I can't wait to introduce my daughter to my favorite place!!

Where do you go to recharge?  Who do you like to take with you?

Aaaannnndddd…we’re back!

.I have to apologize to the people who have read my blog (I know there are some out there…Hi, Mom) for dropping off the face of the earth.    I have no excuse except that I was feeling incredibly down and the posts that I was writing were well, depressing.   I didn't even realize that I was so down until saw the things I was writing.  Sooooo…I just didn't post for a bit.

Its tough when you are really down to pick yourself up, dust yourself off and give yourself a stern talking-to, but I have been blessed with some friends that did just that for me.  They don’t even realize what they did for me, whether it was to attend my outdoor choir concert in the face of an impending storm, message me from 4 states away just to make sure I know that they are praying for me, or just being there to let me pour it all out. 

Well…friends and a ton of chocolate.

Now, I’m back…with a vengeance. Some of the posts that I have written over the summer will probably find their way here, but I’m glad to say that the old me is back, complete with OCD, sarcasm, and a healthy dose of Wonder Woman. J

How do you get yourself out of that low place?  Who has been there for you?

Epiphiny

I am not Wonder Woman.

Well, duh, right?

Though, what girl didn’t want to be Wonder Woman growing up?  I mean, first, she’s gorgeous. Second, she can bend metal and throw dynamite.  And C, she beats up all the bad guys and still looks…gorgeous.

But I digress.

No, I figured out this week that I most certainly did not grow up to be Wonder Woman.  Damn.

See, I didn’t think.  That is usually the root of most of my problems.  I say “Yes” and neglect to think about the ramifications of my agreement.  Raise your hand if you do that.

You really did just raise your hand, didn’t you?

OK.  So months ago, I took on the responsibility of the Community Yard Sale.  I figured I do all of the prep and advertising for just one, so the same amount of work goes in to the Community, right?  And I planned it to piggyback on the Borough-wide Yard Sale, since we are just outside of the Borough.  A couple of signs, and we’re set, right?

Yep.  Tonight I found myself lettering a bunch of big posterboards, transforming saved Yard Sale signs (I’m so OCD) to read “Community”, and oh, yeah, sorting and pricing the bazillions of junk we have to sell you’re the yard sale. My sale has kinda gone into the background because I’m feeling responsible for the other houses if no one shows up.  And they will, but…

Tomorrow Little Miss and I will venture forth to the neighborhood stores to post signs.  This will happen before I drive 25 minutes to get allergy shots. 

Then, I have to race home to clean my downstairs because I thought the Wednesday before my yard sale would be a great time to hold a drop in party for my friend who makes her own jewelry.  I’m actually really excited for this party and want it to go well.  I mean, her jewelry is amazing.  But the closer I get to a drop-in party with an unknown amount of attendees, the more the OCD-ness kicks in. 

So Little Miss and I headed to my favorite scratch –and –dent grocery store to get food and supplies for Wednesday.  And to get sodas and drinks to sell at the yard sale.  And, yes, purchase food to prepare meals for my family when I’m not in the corner banging my head against the wall.

We walk out of the store in the pouring rain, so I usher Little Miss into the car and unload the bags of soda, veggie tray makings, and yummy things to dip into the chocolate fountain (which I just realized needs to come up from the basement and be tested before tomorrow…).  Drenched, I start driving home when Little Miss asks me when we are going out in the afternoon and could she invite a friend?  I start to repeat the “I am not your cruise director” speech when I realize that I promised to take her to the potato chip factory for the tour (and yummy fresh chips right off the line!). 

So we race home, unload the groceries from the car in the pouring rain (I won’t tell you what my kitchen floor looks like right now!), load the outside fridge with a million ounces of liquid (true), toss the rest of the food where it belongs.  I prepare a healthy meal of microwave mac and cheese for Little Miss, and we head back out the door.  Did I mention it was pouring?

We actually enjoyed the tour, and I was able to keep my mind off of the 43 items on my to-do list.  Of course, the tour goes from building to building and we got wet because it was still pouring.  BUT, I grabbed some chips for the party, and we head home again.

Little Miss’s next question is, “What’s for dinner?”  Oh Man.  Run to the freezer, grab the meat that I was supposed to defrost and breathe a sigh of relief when the recipe says 1 hour.  Perfect timing!  Unfortunately, that meant 1 hour of cooking time.  So I dash around trying to make things happen as quickly as possible, dumping green pepper seeds and onion bits on the floor (did I mention my kitchen floor?). 

Dinner is finished, cleaned up, and I have poured myself a cup of coffee and am heading to price some yard sale stuff when Little Miss asks, “Can we play a game tonight?”  Since she’s been out playing in the fantastic weather and we’ve missed family game night and she can’t go outside because it’s POURING…I became the banker for the Game of Life.

I lost the game, by the way.

As I’m putting Little Miss to bed, thinking about how glad I am that the Folks from London have been procrastinating with my latest writing job, Little Miss looks at me and says, “Mama, I had a really good day today.  I Love You.”

Well, Wonder Woman I ain’t.  And I’m still going to rush around for the next 4 days to get everything accomplished.  But what I do know is that my little girl loves me, and no matter what I take on, she thinks I’m wonderful.

What else do I need?

By the way, check out my friend Jacqui’s beautiful work on her website: JoyfulJac Jewelry

Quiet House, Crazy House

I know some crazy people.

Our friends have 7 children.  If they had the chance, they’d have more.  They range in age from 10 to 4 months, 4 adopted.  The house is noisy, colorful, and in constant motion.

I call it bedlam. 

When we walk in, loud music is playing in the kitchen.  Papa is cooking something wonderful (that Little Miss won’t eat).  One to three children throw themselves at my ankles, and call my name with varying clarity.  Books, CDs and DVDs are in piles, and sometimes clean laundry.  Someone is climbing on or jumping off something.  The TV is on.  You can’t find the remote.  Someone else is on the iPad.  Someone is yelling, usually an adult.

I love it.

My house is neat and orderly.  I constantly declutter.  I make a meal schedule and shop according to that (Little Miss still won’t eat it).  I schedule workout time, writing time, cleaning time.  Books are put away.  Toys live in the playroom.  The surfaces are shiny.

I hate it.

Don’t get me wrong.  I am really proud of my house and the way it looks.  I work hard to keep it that way.  And I’m very happy to leave the noise and the brightness and go home to my quiet home.  But sometimes, I look at the crazy-ness of their home and secretly wonder if I could live like that.

Somewhere between bedlam and OCD-world, there is the happy medium I am hoping for.  I want to yell at my kids for running in the house, or slamming the door (OK, Little Miss does that constantly).  I love my home, and I want to fill it with love like they have.

Is that too much to ask?

Simply…

I love it when craft projects use the word “simple”.  And every time I read it, I’m sucked in!  So as I was perusing my new Family Fun (April 2012), I saw a wonderful organize-your-kids-collections idea using glass and plastic food jars.  Since Little Miss loves to pick up stones and shells, I thought this would be a great solution. 

So I went to my collection of clean pickle jars (you never know when there will be a pickle jar emergency!) and collected a few to make them.  The first problem I ran into was the labels.  See, you can soak them off, but the glue won’t come off!!  I thought, well, Downy takes off wallpaper, so let’s try pickle jar labels.

I soaked my jars overnight and end up with two that were clean enough to use.  I did some scrubbing with an abrasive sponge and ended up with 4.   

Now we are 27 hours into this project.

Shew!  Now to attach the “specimens” to the lids.  Well, I don’t have the Amazing Goop they suggest, and my superglue has dried up.  So I pull out my trusty hot glue gun and get to work.  The rock is just fine, and glues nice and snug.  But the nautilus shell that Little Miss chose isn’t sticking too well.  So I decide to paint the rock lid, and grab the tempera.  Again, the suggestion is to use spray-paint, but I’m a little too smart to allow a 7-year-old to use spray paint.  So, she paints the lid for the rock jar while I glue the shell and it looks great.  On to the shell, but as she’s painting it, the shell drops off and rolls away, leaving a pink trail across the kitchen floor.   

Oops.   

OK, fine.  Paint the lid, paint the shell, we’ll glue them in the morning.  In the meantime, we paint the other two plain lids for the yet-to-be-discovered treasures.

Now we’re 40 hours into the “simple” project. 

I’m holding the glue gun again, saying words in my head that my 7-year-old doesn’t need to hear yet as I use a generous amount of glue to attach the %*(*^T%$@ shell to the $$^()^$@ lid.  Once that is done, I forbid Little Miss to touch it while the glue cools, and I go off to nurse my burnt finger. 

45 hours: Repainting the shell and lid.  Thank goodness, the shell seems to be staying put this time.  Little Miss wanders in to the kitchen and says, “I don’t like that color pink.  Can we paint it again?”   

(*^(%#^%$@.

47 hours: Lid is repainted again, and drying.  We have placed the “special” rocks in one jar and the 4 million silly bands she doesn’t wear in another jar. 

49 hours, 23 minutes: Shells in the jar, lids are all placed.  Grudgingly I say that they look pretty good. 

Two lessons learned here. 

1) “Simple” is a very objective word.  What is simple for people who spend their days crafting might not be for the rest of us. 

2) Take the time to shop for the correct ingredients.  Trying to substitute may bring about those words that a 7-year-old shouldn’t hear.

Happy Mother's Day to All!!

When I was trying to have Little Miss, there were three things I hated:
1. People who asked when we were going to start a family
2. Baby Showers
3. Mother's Day


I hated Mother's Day.  I was happy to celebrate it with my Mom, but it was a day that reminded me that I was childless...even with an incredible amount of effort.  I'll admit it, I was jealous. I was yearning to fill my home with children that are out of my reach...that's what Mother's day was, a day that was simply a reminder of unfulfilled longings.


It got to the point where I had to be dragged out the door on Mother's Day.  So, Hubby did one year, to a church that we had only recently started attending.  About halfway through the service, Pastor Tom stood up to talk about Mother's Day.  I started to grab my purse so I could escape to the bathroom.


Suddenly, all of the women in the congregation were asked to stand up.  Pastor Tom started to commend us all as mothers...not merely to children, but to everyone in the church and in our lives.  


You see, whether or not you have a child, you are made with the ability to care for people unselfishly, giving up time and energy to those around you.  You mother the children (and adults!) in your family, your church, your life.  Basically, you don't have to give birth to a child to be a Mother!


So this Mother's Day while the world is celebrating motherhood, remember the "childless" too.  We all know the Proverbs 31 woman needs to be appreciated, but the 1 Samuel 1 woman does too.

Happy Mother's Day to all of the amazing women in my life!!!

To My Child...

I looked for you again today.  Sometimes I feel like I am “shopping” when I look at all of the children who are waiting for a family.  I know your picture isn’t there, because I will know you when I see you. 

I wonder if people can understand the longing to be a mother when it isn’t possible.  I wonder if they can fathom the fact that every time Little Miss has a tantrum, I wish for more children throwing themselves on the floor, not less.  It is so difficult knowing that your family is not complete and not knowing where you are. 

I have to be honest, I am a little more hopeful lately with a case worker who knows how to return an email and is looking out for our family.  Suddenly, I feel like someone else is rooting for us.  And this someone can make things happen.

I wonder if you know what you will be joining when you come home.  You will have a sister, 4 cousins (all girls, sorry), two sets of grandparents who are ready to adore you, 4 Aunts and 3 Uncles who can’t wait to include you.  I picture Christmas with all 6 children playing in the wrapping paper and “feeding the reindeer”.  I can see us cuddling at story time. 

A friend told me the other day that we had a “lot of love to give”.  That is true.  I can’t wait for you to experience the love in our family. 

My child, I can’t wait for you to join us.  We are waiting for you.

Kitten Hunters

I think I’m crazy.  Or adoption happy, one of the two.  Last week, we decided that Little Miss should have a kitten of her own.  Violet is 14 years old and has never forgiven me for bringing Little Miss home.  She is quite happy to sleep in a sunbeam and be left alone.

For a seven-year-old girl, this is not fun.  So we are constantly telling her to “Put down the cat!” or “Stop torturing the cat!” or “Please let the cat out of your closet!!” True Story.  So, our solution was to bring in a cat that would be all hers. Brilliant plan, right?

We wanted to adopt a younger cat, hopefully a kitten, from a shelter.  So one Saturday we set off armed with vet records and seventeen forms of ID.  6 hours later, we returned home having seen one kitten and faced with pages of paperwork to fill out. 

Side note: I do believe it is easier to be approved for foster care than it is to adopt a cat. 

Hubby and I spend the next 4 days scouring shelters, Craigslist, and Petfinder online.  We made phone call after phone call to places so far away that we had to look them up on a map.  I applied to two different shelters that said they had cats.  We emailed people who said they had cats.  And we ended up…nowhere.

I should mention that we live near Lancaster County, so there are plenty of farms with plenty of barns that should have plenty of cats to choose from.  Finally, we decided to “just drive” and hope we saw a sign for “Free Kittens.”  I mean, we see them every time we drive around Lancaster, so it won’t be that tough, right? 

Not one sign.

Thank goodness a friend had mentioned that her neighbor had a sign out.  So we headed there first.  We knocked and….no one home. <Sigh.> So I left a business card with my number and crossed my fingers.  Next we drive to another pet store.  The Humane League didn’t show up until 3.  We checked our watches…1:15.  OK, so we decided to drive to the actual Humane League.  Surprise, they didn’t open until 3.  Go Figure.  Just as we were deciding to throw in the towel, my cell phone rang.  The man with the Free Kittens sign was on the other end and was home for lunch.  If we could get there in the next 20 minutes or so, he’d be there.  A quick check of GPS told us we could be there in 25 minutes.  Gulp.

Of course, every slow moving car and farm truck pulled out in front of us as we raced across Lancaster County.  We pulled into the driveway in 27 minutes.  Thank goodness he was still home! 

He had caught 3 of the kittens and had them in a crate.  While he tried to pull 2 out, a little orange kitty peeked out and came out of the crate all by herself.  All three of us said, “We’ll take her!”

So all’s well that ends well.  We have an adorable orange kitty who narrowly escaped being called “Rosie.”  But the lessons learned from our mishap:

1)   Never tell a seven-year-old she’s getting something when you aren’t sure where it’s coming from.

2)   Kittens are everywhere, unless you want one.

Martha

I have been humbled by my seven-year-old.  Yesterday, I was getting my Sunday School lesson together, and she offered to help me cut some things out.  OK, I begged and pleaded and finally ordered her to help, but…  She was cutting out pictures of Lazarus’ sisters, Mary and Martha.  (Remember Lazarus?  He died.  But Jesus raised him. )

So, she asked me who they were and what my lesson was about.  I told her the story from Luke 10, where Jesus came to visit Lazarus, Mary, and Martha.  Martha rushed around, cleaning and cooking, and making everything just perfect for her visitor, but Mary just sat at Jesus’ feet, listening to him and talking to him.  Well, Martha was having none of this, and charged into the room and told Jesus, the Son of God, that he needed to make Mary help clean and cook and make things perfect!

Here comes the part of the story I always have trouble with.  Jesus told Martha that SHE had it wrong, and Mary was doing just what she needed to do!

The reason this story is so difficult, is that I am a Martha.  I see myself as a servant.  I really struggle with the need to make sure that things are perfect all of the time, and the house is sparkling clean, and the food is cooked perfectly, and that everyone in my presence is having a good time.  And I never understood how Martha wanting to make sure everything was just right for Jesus was wrong! 

At this point, Little Miss pipes up, “Mommy, you need to do that.”  “Do what honey?” I ask, already focused on the next task rather than our conversation. “You need to stop working all of the time and start enjoying what is going on!  Jesus won’t care if the house isn’t clean.” 

Holy carp. 

She’s totally right. 

Here my seven-year-old gets this story that I have been struggling with for years.  Jesus doesn’t care if my house is clean.  Jesus doesn’t care if the food tastes good.  Jesus just wants me to sit by him and listen to him and be his friend.

To whom it may Concern at My Child’s School…

I hate dropping my kid off at school.  Not because it wastes time (It does).  Not because I have better things to do (I do).  Not because we don’t have a perfectly good bus system that gets her to school safely (We do). No, it’s because the car line is impossible!  I have never seen such an unsafe environment.

Here’s the “drop-off procedure”:  You pull into the car circle.  If you want to go to the school building with your child, you pull to the left and park in the parking lot.  If you just want to drop your child off at the curb, you stay to the right and pull up behind the cars in an orderly line and wait your turn.  Your child should open the car door, jump out, and shut the door. The school newsletter says that “cars should remain in a single line”.  That means NO PASSING! 

This is what really happens.  I pull into the circle, gripping my coffee mug like it’s my lifeline.  Double-check seat belt.  Little Miss is chattering in the back:

“Can I take my seat belt off?”  (No.)

“Are we on time?” (Hopefully…)

“Do I have music today?” (I have no idea.)

“Did you remember to pack my lunch?” (um…no.  Buy the hot lunch, whatever it is.)

While I’m fielding these questions in my early-morning fog (why did I stay up to watch Conan last night?), a Land-Yacht-sized vehicle zooms by me on the left, trying to take my mirror off.  The driver, putting on her makeup and talking on the phone at the same time, slams on the brakes as a car pulls out in front of her.  Rude gestures fly while horns blare (this is elementary school, folks!).  She throws the tank into park and hops out in her 3 inch heels.  She runs around the hulking mass and stands next to it while her child slides out of the front (!!) seat, turns around and climbs back in to get backpack, lunch and a model of the solar system that must have been life-sized.  Now we wait while they talk.  Some argument about after school.  Child slams door and drags backpack, lunch and diorama to the door of the school.  One of the two teachers assigned to car duty looks up briefly and waves hello.  Child finally makes it to door and struggles to load backpack, lunch and model inside.  Pluto breaks off in the doorway (he doesn’t need it, anyway).  Other teacher looks up and asks, “Do you need a hand?”  Child shuts door.  In the meantime, Mom has re-entered the vehicle and is curling her eyelashes in the vanity mirror.  Satisfied with her appearance, she slams the Semi into drive and roars out, narrowly missing a child innocently exiting the car on the left.  This exchange has taken approximately 4 minutes, 27 seconds. 

Finally.  I pull my car up to the curb in front of the door.  Little Miss knows the drill: Unbuckle seatbelt and grab backpack in one smooth gesture.  Open door, wave goodbye, and hop out on the sidewalk.  Shut door.  The whole drop-off may take 20 seconds.  Unfortunately, now I’m stuck, because Land-Yacht-Lady is now leaning out of her passenger-side window talking to another Mom about the episode of “The Bachelor” last night.  “Yeah, I know, I really think Bertha was right for him…well, I guess Gertrude gets him now…”  Horns blare.  LYL glares out her window, waves goodbye to the other mom, and fires up the engine (how did that thing pass emissions??).  I breathe a sigh of relief and follow the other cars out of the car circle, only getting sideswiped twice.

Lest you think that I’m just complaining I have a few suggestions to “streamline” the drop-off procedure (read: keeps people from getting killed). 

• Car Circle is for drop-off.  If you want to get out of the car with your child, walk your child to the building, or discuss prime time TV with your friend, great!  Please park in the lot so that you are not inconveniencing those around you.
• Do NOT PASS OTHER CARS IN CAR LINE.  Wait your turn and pull up to the yellow-marked area to let your child out.  Remain in your seat.  Do not pass Go.  Do not collect $200. 
• Teachers who are engrossed in your conversation, approach the child and make sure he does not need assistance. 
• Drive on.  Leave the circle, sip your coffee, and enjoy the rest of your day!

See, there is a difference!  I will be glad to come in and help enforce these rules at any time!

Thank you.