Gommie's Week: Pools and Pot Roast

It's blazing hot for Connecticut right now, though Gommie thinks it's balmy--and still 10+ degrees below Houston.

They all went swimming yesterday in a neighbor's pool, floating and splashing around, with a giant swan float that they took turns riding.  And tumping each other out.  Meanwhile, I chatted with the neighbor over lemonade and watermelon she brought out--she's so nice.

After exhausting themselves with the exercise and heat, we went home . . . and Gommie made a pot roast!  Not your usual summer meal, but the kids loved it.  Potatoes, onions, bell peppers, with sides of yellow squash and cheesy banana peppers.  The Cheesy Banana Peppers are my paternal grandmother's recipe, which Bud adored.  I'm not even sure Mama got any when she got home late from work.  Best yet, they had picked these particular (not pickled) peppers at the other neighbor's yard on Saturday.  Maybe next year we can grow some ourselves (though, that neighbor's yard gets better light.)

It's hot again today and, so far, we're inside.  First with piano lessons and maybe later with some more swimming.  We'll just have to see.

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Cheesy Banana Peppers

banana peppers, sliced in half lengthwise and seeded
Swiss cheese, sliced
Cheddar cheese, sliced or grated


Place sliced and seeded banana peppers in the bottom of a baking dish.  Cover with cheeses.  Bake at 350F until golden brown.

Grandmother Hungry

Summer Fun: Party Weekend

Friday:  The Friday Night Dance Party hosted by our dear old church friends included a sleepover this week.  Sis knew immediately that she wanted to go, but Bud had never slept over anywhere  because most of his friends are girls and don't invite him (want to get me started about societal gender norms in the under-10 set?)   But this was a great opportunity to try:  it was gender-mixed, his sister would be there, and he is very comfortable at our friends' house, having been there now pretty much every Friday for a month.  So they both packed up and we headed out.

First he was going to leave Mr. Big at home and so gave him several goodbye hugs.  Then he decided to put Mr. Big in the car just for the ride over.  And gave him several hugs when we got there.  We got out, carried everything into the house (gear and snacks and a homemade mac and cheese contribution to dinner), and . . . he asked if he could go get Mr. Big.  Of course.  If that's what it takes for your first sleepover, I get it.  My dad will tell you:  I took my pink floral satin blankie everywhere, even college, which my dad had been teasing about for years; in fact, it's still under the bed in a box somewhere, but it's no longer at the top of the list of things I would save in a fire.  Mr. Big is.  And Amy and Shirt.  And the photographs/computer hard drives.  (Things . . . after people and pets.)

And they had a great night!  I stayed for awhile to help with dinner, but mainly to chat with the other moms.  The kids had lightsaber battles, crocodile battles in the pool, and apparently spent the evening sculpting chandeliers out of glow sticks!  I'm told that Bud didn't go to sleep until after 2:30 a.m. and was up again at 6:30 a.m.  No wonder he is sound asleep on the couch right now, after a morning at kung fu!  (I'm writing this in sections; that was from 1:30 pm Saturday.  He slept till 6, despite a few attempts to wake him and feed him.  He's going to be up all night.)

Meanwhile, Mama headed away for some much deserved R&R.  She's having a great adventure and will be home Sunday afternoon.  She's been texting me periodically with great photos.  I'm so glad she's having fun.  I think it's the first non-family, overnight thing she's done since she went to Miami on a business trip when the kids were, what, two?  That's eight years of all us all the time.  And we almost had to kick her out of the house!  I hope it becomes a more frequent occurrence.

Saturday afternoon found us gearing up for social event #2.  We had a little block party with the neighbors.  I took white bean dip, spinach pesto salad, and brownies and sat in a chair in the hot afternoon sun going in and out, chatting with people I was happy to get to know.  I knew the organizing neighbor but not some of the others, though we wave and I knew their names.  The neighbor across the street's daughter will be a kindergartener at our school and the mom is starting a Daisy troop, so we had lots to discuss.   Bud slept through the whole thing (and because he's 10 and I was two doors down, I let him sleep in the house by himself, with us checking on him once in awhile), while Sis sat with us when she wasn't chasing the chickens around.  These are the chickens she helped babysit when said neighbor was out of town last week--Sis loved locking them up at night and was great at sneaking up on them so they didn't come out of their hut.  We called her the "chicken whisperer."

Tomorrow we have another party--a birthday party/housewarming event for someone I've known in passing for years.  We'll go over midday and stay awhile (especially because it's going to be hot in CT tomorrow--near 90F--which is too warm for me.)  I'm not sure exactly what I'll take to share.  I have another batch of bean dip and spinach salad, so maybe that.  Sis also talked about making Snickerdoodles, if it's not too hot to turn on the oven.

A busy social weekend . . . so it's probably good that Mama is off on her own.  I laughed that she doesn't socialize 9 out of 10 times, introvert that she is, and that only seems to make her more popular in her elusiveness!  I joked that I figured I was social enough for both of us.  (Besides, though I didn't say it, I save her 1/10 socializing for big events like Applepalooza.)

For me, I'm wiped but happy.

Blizzard: Pathways

Blessed are the pathmakers

Neighborhood lore has it that the above pathway to the main street in town was made late last night by a man with a flight to Costa Rica today!  It has been quite a lifeline.  One neighbor made it to a convenience store and could report that no roads were plowed between here and there.  Another neighbor came home this afternoon, trudging up the path, after being stuck at work for three days.  And now there are several arteries joining it, from around the corner and up the street plus all the little avenues connecting people's driveways to it.  I dug our connection myself--the snow is light and the kids had tromped a path already; then our neighbor blew it wider and smoother for me.  Thus I spent all morning talking to friends and neighbors who, glad to get out of the house and into the sunshine, were walking back and forth on our little icy highway.  Sure, a few people forsook the path, having their own snowshoes and cross country skies, but most of us stuck to the path and congregated at intersections to chat and compare notes--how long would school be closed (two more days at least), was it true that town was out of diesel for the plows (apparently a FB rumor), how close was the nearest plowed street, and did the convenience store still have milk and eggs (no but they have Funyons!).  We even used the pathway to exchange milk, eggs, and onions!

The kids played nearby, digging ice caves in the snow (the man down the street had been an Army ranger and advised them on how to build an ice cave, leaving a lot of room at the top because this is crumbly snow) and sledding down our embankment into our driveway.  They later played chase and threw snowballs with friends through the pathways.  Now they've headed up the street via the path all the way to their babysitters to sled so more and maybe play Minecraft.  No worries about cars . . . or snow plows!  And it is so quiet with no traffic anywhere.  Just the sound of neighbors chatting up and down the snow paths.  

I know that the plows will come eventually, or more precisely the frontloaders, and will obliterate our little lifeline.  Sure, I'll be glad to know we can be reached by emergency vehicles and be able to get to stores and school eventually.  But for now, I like the snowy labyrinth of connections our neighbors have built.

Passings

Next door, my neighbor is dying, and might be dead, since there are no longer many cars out front, though I haven't seen a hearse.  His family vigiled all weekend, with the aid of a visiting priest and, I believe, hospice.  His son-in-law said it had been a rough few months and I had seen the ambulance come at least once.    He's in his nineties, I think,and has lived in that house more than half that time, since the late 1940s-early 1950s.  We have only spoken once or twice, as he was hard of hearing, but he often tootled around his garden and did minor house repairs, such as annually painting the porch.

At the same time, the house of his next door neighbor, with whom we had been friends, has finally gone up for sale, after being in the family since around 1930.  It's where she grew up and then raised her own kids, telling us about the peach orchards and fox holes, foundry and "new developments."  She had suffered much poor health recently and moved to be with her son several months ago, though she swore she would never leave.  It would probably please her that she lived longer than her neighbor, even if she moved and he didn't--she said that they hated each other and sometimes even called the cops on each other, though they had mellowed some more recently.

End of an era . . . .may the families be comforted.

Tea Party of Five

The neighbors who cared for our cats while we were in Boston came over for a tea party today.  The kids spent the morning cleaning the living room, setting the table, and creating place cards. There were even places for Mr. Big (the stuffed penguin) and Felicity, Sis's American Girl doll.  And Bud decorated the table with nesting penguin figurines.  Sis places the gifts we'd gotten them at their spots--a penguin mug for Miss K and a bracelet and some chocolate for M.  We'd made brown-sugar shortbread the day before.  But we added some chewy pralines, jam thumbprints (from the store), and freshly-popped popcorn.

We had a delightful time chowing down--few people can say no to popcorn!  We talked about our trip to Boston and M's new school.  And the young people took turns telling jokes.

• What's black and white and red all over?  A sun-burned penguin!  (If you said newspaper, you are behind the times 'cos papers are in color now!)
• What do you call a baby martial artist?  Young Fu Fighter.
• Why did the chicken cross the playground?  To get to the other slide!
• Imagine you are in a car teetering on the edge of a cliff--what do you do?  [Refute all guesses about backing up, jumping out, etc.]  Stop imagining!
• You are a school bus driver.   You pick up six kids.  You let off three.  You pick up five.  You let off four.  What is the bus driver's name?  Yep, your name.
• You are in a mansion and the power has gone out.  You can go through four doors--pink, blue, yellow, green.  Choose one.  Now you see a hallway with two doors--in one is a monster that might kill you and in the other is an electric chair that will kill you.  Which do you choose?  Yep, electric chair--because the power is out!

And those were the good ones!  The rest were some made-up ones.  But I think those might have made us laugh harder (but since they made so little sense, I can't relay them here!).  We all cleared the table and then the kids went out to play while Miss K and I talked a bit, so nice to get that chance.  

Only the cats were no shows, to our surprise, considering how much they liked our neighbors.  I guess they were upstairs recovering from having us home again!

A Big Thank You

Here on Cyber Monday, I'm sending out a big thank you for something you can't buy:  friendship.  Our neighbors down the street have been so helpful this year.  Their daughter comes over once a week to play with the kids while I cook dinner; they look forward to her arrival and are sad when she goes.  Their son mows our yard (while his mom does the edging, etc) every week and makes it look better than the professionals ever did--and without cutting down our vegetable garden or sunflowers!!  (And sure we pay them, but it's not near enough for what they provide.) The mom always waves and stops to talk, encouraging the kids, chatting with me.  She works at the school they'll go to next.  I love talking to her and we're finding that we have many commonalities.  And always have a good laugh.  She's one of the most jovial and generous people I've ever met.

Well, this weekend, they went above the call of neighborly friendship:  they spent almost 6 hours getting all the leaves out of our yard.  First it was the mom and her son, who finally went home with a fever!  Then the dad came to help out.  By dark, the leaves were finally all gone.  It looks beautiful.  Better than beautiful, as our  yard went from fall to winter, with the Christmas decorations the only thing left in the yard.  They even carefully raked out the kids' fort!

It was a long, hard afternoon for them, but we loved having them around (I bet we slowed down the work some with all the conversation!).  We're even more grateful to have them as neighbors and friends.

Sad Little Face

There was a sad little face looking up at me today, blotchy with tears and forlorn with disappointment.

But it wasn't one of my kids; it was the neighbor boy.

Sis and Bud had been playing with him when he decided, I'm told, to change games. When Bud didn't want to, Boy supposedly pushed him, causing Bud to fall back and hit his head on the bed frame. He came running home hurt and upset.

Of course, it didn't end there. Sis and the Boy came over about 15 minutes later to see if Nate was ready to play. I talked to them both, trying to ascertain what had happened.

"It was an accident," Boy said. "He didn't want to play so I pushed him."

"That's not an accident." And so we talked about how to be friends.

But Bud didn't want to play with him; neither did Sis, really. Later she said, "it's not that fun." Bud elaborated, "he always says, 'my house, my rules.' And we never get to pick the game."

And so Boy left because no one wanted to play his game (should I mention it was DS? Probably don't need to).

My kids and I had more conversation. Because the pushing wasn't the only incident--they had also watched some of a non-approved movie (thankfully, not Twilight). "But it was already on when we got there. Mom, why is Princess Leia in chains? And who is that dancing girl?" Sigh. And I wanted to encourage Sis to come home with Bud when something like that happened, and vice versa. And to encourage them to seek out the adults in the house if there was ever a real problem. As I've blogged, I recognize the value of their navigating their own friendship, even or especially with our neighbor, but this one has some obstacles that even I'm having issues with.

Then the doorbell rang.

"Can they play yet?"

"They're taking a break now. They can play tomorrow."

He came back again about 10 minutes later. Neither of my kids wanted to play with him, so I answered the door.

"I don't have anyone to play with!"

"Honey, where are your parents?"

"They aren't playing!" And I wasn't sure if he meant his parents or my kids.

He came back twice more, all by himself, crying and demanding and pleading. And, as far as I can tell, his parents knew nothing, never noticed that my kids had left the house and that their son had left the house and come over 5 different times. I walked him home once, getting Bud's lightsaber, but I never saw Boy's parents. I'm not sure I know what I would've said, but I thought it was important to try (I have some ideas for next time; sometimes, I'm slow with parenting ideas, especially with conflict).

After the last visit, I needed to leave. I wanted to stop Boy from hurting so much but wasn't going to make my kids play with him, especially all things considered. So, we piled into the car and went out for ice cream, as Bud kept talking about his head hurting from hitting the bed (he's fine). Mama, who had been at the hardware store, met us there. We talked options, ideas, and she agreed to take over answering the door for the evening.

But sad little Boy didn't come back.

I hope he does. I think.

The Boy Who Came Before Dinner

The doorbell rang. 6:00 p.m. on a Saturday. Too late for Fed Ex; no UPS on Saturdays. And that cable guy had already talked to us. Who could it be?

I saw a blonde head bobbing up and down on our front step. Ahh, the neighbor boy. Let's call him Video Gamer. "Can Sis and Bud play?"

Sure. And I invited him in. Sis and Bud were excited by their visitor and immediately started trying to entice him with toys, games, and kung fu demonstrations. He only asked, "Don't you have any video games?"

Video Gamer is 5 1/2 but has an 18-year old brother, so has grown up playing bigger-kid games. He likes video games, computer games, handheld games, whatever digital games, Nintendo, X Box, Wii, Playstation, (goodness, have I even gotten those correct?). He spotted that Sis and Bud had been playing on PBSkids.com and went over immediately--to change the website for different games! I interrupted to say we only played PBS games (figuring he wasn't looking for Starfall.com or Nickjr.com either!). Could Sis and Bud go to his house to play games? Soon, though, they settled into a game of chase and then some shadow play in the bedroom with some of the flashlight sets Sis and Bud got for their birthday.

Mama was beside herself. What was he doing here? Who comes over and knocks on the door to play without advanced email negotiations between moms weeks in advance? What should we do with him? Did his folks know he was here?

I laughed, "Hon, this is how kids end up staying for dinner! Better not tell him we're having steak!" Seriously, though, this kind of neighborhood play is completely outside of Mama's realm of experience, growing up in a condo near an apartment complex in the heart of Queens, without neighborly kids running around. Kids just didn't venture out, alone, to play with others.

She finished dinner; I was on playdate duty. I tried to reassure her that this was normal in neighborhoods. Mercy, most of my childhood was spent rounding up various neighbors to play (there were 6-8 families with kids approximately my age), inside or outside, depending on the weather and whom I found, though there were two girls in particular whom I would look for first. I tried to remember some of our neighborhood guidelines, if only to assure Mama that it can work really well: no visits before 9 am or after 9 pm (or was that phone calls?); come in when it's dark (which the assures me that the first was our phone-call rule); not during dinner; let your mom know where you're going and if you change locales; not off the immediate street; you can eat there but check with Mom first about dinner; follow the house rules; the other adult is in charge; keep track of your own toys; clean up before you leave. I'm not sure that helped. So to ease Mama's mind, I snuck upstairs and turned on the monitor, so she could see just how harmless it was. And it was. Even though Video Gamer is a lot more worldly, definitely more rough and tough, significantly more pop culture and digital-world oriented, he is a sweet kid. And our neighbor.

So when he asked again if the kids could come over to play, I said yes, until dinner and sent them across the street, without me, while I watched and waved to his dad who was mowing the lawn. Mama was flabbergasted. I set the timer to remember to go get them, early, knowing that his mom and I would end up gabbing.

Which is exactly what we did. Video Gamer is a year ahead in school and so we talked about kindergarten transitions, her experiences and my concerns. She said that Video Gamer was always asking to come over to play; I said just send him along. Though, I told her that he thought our house, with its lack of video games, was lame. Then I finally rounded up Sis and Bud, who were enjoying playing with Video Gamer's pirate toys and admiring his large collection of Silly Bandz, and begged to be able to play again.

Of course. It was a very momentous occasion, our first drop-in by a neighbor kid, hopefully the beginning of many. Because that's the kind of suburban childhood we envision for our kids . . . . even if it feels a little strange at first.

The Sighting

I just waved to my neighbor.

And she waved back!

You have to understand the history. She grew up in the house two doors down, when there were only three houses on our street (hers, ours, and the one in the middle) and this was a peach tree orchard dotted with foxholes. She raised her children in that house after her husband died and has lived there (with some hiatus, I think) off and on for 70+ years, fighting with the man in the middle since the mid-1950s.

And we were friends. Mama and I met her when we stopped to shovel snow off her sidewalk and came to be friends, visiting and going out to dinner. And then we had children. And she never wanted to speak to us again, believing it was awful that we would wilfully raise children without a father, as she had had to do. Mind you, she was fine with the whole lesbian thing, but our parenthood was another matter.

We heard about this through mutual friends, who came to explain our friend's sudden coldness to us. And they've kept us up to date on her for the last 3 1/2 years since we spoke to her last. Because, try as I might, I can't get mad at this woman, even though I understand she's said some things about us that I don't like.

And last week, for the second time recently, EMS and a firetruck showed up at her house. And I called our mutual friends so they could check in on her. And she told one of those friends that she might call to thank me. Call. To talk.

So just now, I was out getting the mail and she was getting in her niece's car. And I waved. And she waved back.

There might have been frost on the ground this morning, but things are thawing on our street this afternoon.