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.

Unmeteoric

The Leonid meteor shower occurred earlier this week. And I made the mistake of mentioning it to the kiddos. It was a mistake because a). I had no intention of waking them up at 3:30 a.m. to see it and b). there were only about 20 falling an hour, not really impressive, especially considering the bright, almost-full moon (for comparison, Mama and I had witnessed the spectacular meteor shower several years ago from a dark, wide beach, spotting more than 400 in less than an hour). But we did go out into the chill night air right before bed and searched the sky for falling stars. We saw lots of blinking planes and stars and the big moon but no meteors, much to their disappointment. And they were still talking about that disappointment the next morning when none of us had gotten up in the middle of the night and seen any. Perhaps I should've just said those blinking lights were falling stars!

She's Here!

Cousin Hungry was born today! Mom, Dad, and baby-sized baby girl are doing well. (And grandparents, too.) We're all excited to welcome her and can't wait to see the pictures.

We'll have to come up with an appropriate blog name for her.

(And while I'm not going to post specific info, I will say she shares a name with Lambeth's wife!)

"The Flour is Dancing"

It was a very busy morning in the Hungry household as we prepared for the potluck at church today.

But first, I had promised the kids Dutch Baby Pancakes for breakfast, easy enough to make, even though I'd need the oven for two more dishes (Swedish Apple Pie and Curried Coconut Rice). And we listened to the new Sugarland album while we did it, with "Stuck Like Glue" on repeat as Bud danced around the kitchen. Sis, meanwhile, stirred, "Look, Mom, the flour is dancing!"

We all were; the house was swingin'.

Mama and I had started it all the night before, watching a 2-hour Sugarland concert streamed through the web to our tv (sorry, 24 hour availability only). It's our group of the moment (though, our first love remains, of course, the Indigo Girls, Emily of which has actually sung with Sugarland--and you can find a fuzzy video of that on YouTube) and we're enjoying the country/pop (think Dixie Chicks, sorta) tunes. Mama even sings them with her twang on. So, this one's for you, Mama:

I've got someone who loves me more then words can say
And I'm thankful for that each and every day
And if I count all my blessings, I get a smile on my face
Still it's hard to find faith..

[Chorus:]
But if you can look in my eyes
And tell me we'll be alright
If you promise never to leave You just might make me believe

--Sugarland, "Just Might (Make Me Believe)"

"I Wish"

On this, a great day of (early) thanksgiving for our blessings, old and new, which we celebrated at a church potluck (we took the curried rice below), all the kids delighted us with a song:

"I wish that no one was hungry or cold

Or hurt or frightened or sad.

I wish that I could turn straw into gold.

I'd share each ounce that I had.

I wish that people would learn to listen

and understand all the words.

I wish that no one was ever upset

And no one ever felt bad.

I wish

I wish

I wish

I wish."

--Teresa Jennings

-=-=-=-=-=-

Mark Bittman's Baked Curried Rice with Apples and Coconut

(which I made without the cilantro, of course)

Makes: 4 servings

Time: About 1 hour, largely unattended

Baked brown rice is mostly hands-off—no fussing or checking for doneness, just a relaxing, undisturbed 45 minutes in the oven. Your reward for doing next to nothing is a pot of tender, fragrant, slightly spicy grains (if you want more heat, use up to a tablespoon more curry powder). This recipe would go perfectly with any simply seasoned pot of chickpeas or other beans.

2 tablespoons vegetable oil

1 tablespoon curry powder

1 tablespoon minced ginger

1 cup brown basmati rice

Salt and black pepper

One 14-ounce can coconut milk

1⁄4 cup shredded, unsweetened coconut

2 tart apples, cored and chopped

1⁄2 cup chopped fresh cilantro

1⁄4 cup yogurt, optional

1. Heat the oven to 350°F. Put the oil in a large ovenproof saucepan over medium heat. A minute later, add the curry powder and ginger and cook, stirring, for about a minute. Add the rice and some salt and pepper; cook, stirring, until the rice is glossy and translucent, just a minute or 2.

2. Measure 13⁄4 cups of the coconut milk; stir it into the rice mixture. Bring to a boil, then cover tightly and transfer to the oven. Bake, undisturbed, for 45 minutes.

3. Meanwhile, put the shredded coconut in a small skillet over medium heat and toast, shaking the pan and stirring often, until it begins to brown, 5 to 10 minutes. Remove the rice from the oven, uncover, and use a fork to stir in the shredded coconut, apples, and cilantro. Replace the lid and let it rest for 10 minutes. Taste and adjust the seasoning and fluff again. Serve immediately or at room temperature, topped with yogurt if you like.

Mark Bittman, Food Matters

Shopping Day

Today is shopping day for the Hungry household, in preparation for Thursday's feast. Mama and the kids hit one store this morning; Mama's at another this afternoon. We're scaling back the size of the feast somewhat, if only to make it easier on us in my "diminished capacity" (Mama has also begged me not to bake "too much" this season because it's hard on the back; I acquiesced . . . by roping her into helping!). But that doesn't mean we aren't having a proper festive meal. Here's what we're planning (everything is homemade, at least partially, unless noted), not including the Swedish Apple Pie and coconut-curry rice I'm taking to church tomorrow:

• roasted nuts
• brie en croute (pre-packaged)
• turkey (from our farm, probably gobbling as I type!)
• gravy
• dressing
• rolls (new recipe: Parker House, from scratch, in bread machine)
• green bean casserole
• sweet potato casserole
• baked sweet potatoes
• rice
• cranberry sauce (one in the can; two homemade, probably)
• strawberry jello (does this count as homemade if I add boiling water?)
• pecan pie
• cranberry-fudge pie (new recipe from KAF)
• pumpkin pie (frozen)

You should've seen the list before we scaled back!

The Rewards of Volunteering

I had quite a busy volunteer week, at school and after school. And I was more than amply rewarded:

• At Daisies, several of the girls, including mine own, when asked about things for which they are thankful, said that they were thankful for our Daisies meetings and the leaders (that's me!).
• When I made a surprise visit to the school yesterday, subbing for a volunteer whose child was ill, I got a huge smile and enthusiastic wave from Sis and a jubilant thumbs-up from Bud.
• When I volunteered today, both kiddos held my hands and gave me hugs.

Family PA System

I know that a few people are fervently checking this blog for updates on the impending arrival of my sister's baby girl.

I don't have an update.

It's not quite that impending--with a week left til her due date and first babies notoriously slow, it could be awhile.

And, I don't think this will necessarily be the place you hear it first. I'm checking with Banana to see if she'll be sending an email to family and friends first. I don't want to impinge upon that exciting announcement.

Though, I imagine I'll make it eventually.

Wrong Number

Me: "Hon, I left the gourds on the dancing platform."

Her: "Who is this?"

Wrong number.

And perhaps the oddest thing I've ever said to a stranger.

Going on a Bear Hunt

We went on a bear hunt today, right after Bud shot a turkey, Sis netted fish, and I gathered green beans, berries, and squash (real decorative gourds from our farm!). Sis also made a salad. Yep, we were preparing for our big annual harvest feast.

They wore deer skins (brown flannel with ragged edges a la a real skin) and carried spears and bows (I wasn't appropriately dressed in my fleece). We had a wigwam, albeit two-storied (but at least not a Plains Indian tipi, which they made in art class in school this week as part of their holiday observances!), complete with a cooking fire, which tinder we gathered around the yard. "Everything we have comes from Mother Nature," except the things we traded with the settlers. Like our iron cooking pots.

It's the historically-accurate way to play Indians! Without pilgrims. Or cowboys. And we were specifically the Mashantucket Pequot tribe, remembering our visits to that fabulous museum (and the Museum of the American Indian in DC). Our neighbor, Miss J, who came out to say hi and request some of the bear meat (which was, hilariously, the big blue recycling tub) was of the same tribe but lived in a different village.

At our feast of thanks, Sis and Bud devised a ritual: "smooshing peace rocks." Inspired by our tattered Tibetan prayer flags, which blow prayers to the wind as the fabric unravels, they decided we would crush mud clots with our feet, while standing atop our turtle sandbox, and spread the dirt around "to spread peace and thanks."

Not a bad way to celebrate.

(Which we then did by going inside for hot chocolate and marshmallows. Now, they're inside playing in their igloos. Welcome back, Brother Bear!)

Au Naturale

I'm sorta going chem-free over here. No, not in my food, which we try to keep as local/organic/seasonal as reasonable. And not in my habits, since I don't smoke or do drugs or drink. And chocolate is not a chemical!

Nope, in my "beauty regime."

I've given up deodorant, moisturizer, face soap, and, half the time, shampoo.

Though, it wasn't all at once. Nor for any crunchy granola agenda. (Though it sure sounds like it. Especially if you take into account all my natural supplements for back care--Nordic Naturals fish oil for inflammation, Slow mag water-soluble magnesium for muscle memory and PMS/ovulation cramps, wild blueberry extract for help with weight loss--as opposed to big pharma. Which I do keep handy just in case!)

It dawned on me, when I read an article about older women with long hair, that shampooing every night wasn't working and so I researched "no 'poo," the shampoo-free movement that advocates use of baking soda and vinegar OR rinses and head massages. So I skipped shampoo for a week and realized two things: my hair has more shine, body, and curl when I don't shampoo regularly but that I don't like to go without it. So now I'm on an every few days schedule, with a rinse and massage in between. And I love my locks! Which are growing longer everyday (since I can't sit for a cut . . . )

Similar thing with face soap. I don't have great skin. Never have. And I've used soaps and scrubs and cleansers and moisturizers and drinking water and and and. . . . Nothing would improve it. And so I adapted Mama's technique: rinse twice daily. No soap. And she has pretty, clear skin. We can do this because neither of us wears make up. And now, I don't need moisturizer either. And I'm pretty much the same, though not as dry.

As for the deodorant, it goes like this: I had read a long time ago that aluminum in deodorant was dangerous; don't know if it's true but I turned to more natural deodorizers without it, like Tom's of Maine. But in doing so, I realized my underarms turned dark. Googling that led me to realize I was probably allergic to the natural stuff. And so I've given it up--and the dark spots disappeared in just a few days. And I don't smell. Besides, I saw Dr. Oz on Oprah once say that we don't need deodorant as long as we wash regularly.

Which I do, every night, with soap.

Natural, chem-free kinds of soap.

Congratulations!

To my MIL Ma, who has worked at the same place for 30 years!

It's Wednesday

I've been trying to think of lofty posts or even something interesting. But I'm coming up with nada. Not that anything is wrong. It's just mostly very usual. Remarkable in its unremarkableness. Some random thoughts:

• The yellow leaves are gone. Now there are bright red trees. Fall didn't seem to happen all at once this year. Or it's just the first year I've been out so much (210 minutes of walking outside a week!). Yesterday, our yard guys came and cleaned up all the yellow leaves. Last night's storm knocked down all the red ones, which I guess will be with us til spring! But the yard is beautiful in its crimson cloak. At least there are more leaves. The kids were bummed to see their yellow piles disappear.
• Bud has realized that school is permanent. On Monday morning, he cried about going, preferring to stay home with me to play. And then the moment passed and he got ready to go and had a good time.
• School is taking it out of them. They hold it together really well there--do their work, follow directions, cooperate with others--and then come home and pummel each other. When they aren't playing divinely.
• Daisy Scouts continues. Oddly, I feel weird blogging about that. And so haven't. Not sure why, exactly. Sis likes it and Bud continues to want to join. And nothing seems to substitute.
• I had breakfast with Mommy Goose today. It was great to catch up after what seems like too long. And it wasn't even all gossip or bitching! Though it was pretty much all kids.
• I got to know one of my neighbors better last night, when after 8 years of saying we would, we had coffee together. She's delightful.
• My bursitis is improving and I'm driving some, though it's still the hardest thing to do, much harder than sitting on the couch drinking coffee. The rest of my back is quiet right now.
• The squirrels are chunky this year. And a red-tailed hawk has been bothering the parrots who live nearby and keep swarming to distract it.
• I can't believe Thanksgiving is next week. It really has all begun. I know, we've all said it, but where has the time gone? The kids have even made Christmas lists! December is packed with activities. And the planning (and stress and emotion) of it all has begun.
• Mama's cold is improving, I think. And now I've got it. I think.
• I talk to Mama Teacher everyday on her drive home. It's a (sometimes!) sane call into our wild afternoons.
• The family store isn't really working anymore. But losing DSi privileges does. Even though I admit as I type that how much I dislike parenting-through-punishment-and-reward.
• Reading interesting articles on line sometimes, including mindfulness for Thanksgiving, a poet's exploration of death and dying (plus several other posts on similar topics), saying yes, lentils, drinking water. You know, I really ought to do a links list soon (because I'm not even sure when I'll add the links to this bullet).
• Divorce seems to be in the air for some of my friends and neighbors. Haven't given divorce as an occurrence much thought, not having known too many families who've gone through it, and no peers. I've seen several articles on it recently too. And have just been contemplating it in an abstract kind of way. (No worries, Mama and I are just fine, which is why perhaps I'm so curious about relationships that aren't.)
• Aunt Banana's baby will be here soon, give or take. I had thought to write the mother of all mothering posts (for this blog, anyway) but realize that my advice is so particular to me and to Mama and to twins and to our experience and personalities and situation. Everyone is different and we all do the best we can under the circumstances. I try not to judge (except when I do. Sigh.) She said "adaptability" will be her motto; that works. No "if I knew then what I know now" from me. So I'll just wish them good labor and a homecoming soon!

Breakin' the Rules

I broke the rules the other night.

For the first time.

Well, for this rule anyway: the kids sleep in their beds, not ours.

The other night, we were all having nightmares. All except Mama, that is, who was so hopped up on cold medicine that she didn't notice that there were two extra, squirmy people in the bed. I don't know what was in the water--and it wasn't a full moon--but I'd been up about half an hour reading, alternately, the entertainment pages of Huffpost and WebMD, when Bud and then Sis came into the room upset from bad dreams.

It was 3:30 a.m. And I think I needed a better diversion than my 'droid. I could also be useful and comforting. So I encouraged them to crawl into bed and cuddle up, one in front and one in back, both clinging, arms everywhere, hands in my hair and on my neck and over my chest.

How does anyone sleep like that?

I certainly didn't.

Probably because it was the first time for us all to sleep together, I was intrigued with the changes in their breathing, the flutterings of their eyelids, the small movements of their hands. It certainly was distracting. But not sleep-inducing. We rarely co-slept when they were babies (no judgments here--do what works for your family), mainly from a fear of rolling over them in our exhaustion and a desire to get as much sleep as we could between feedings every 45 minutes or so (when we were doing it on demand and they were on different schedules; we gave that up pretty quickly!). And even from a desire to retain the bed as our space from our pre-baby lives. But mainly for that first reason. Then as time passed, we kept the rule, for those other reasons plus a hope that they would be comfortable in their own beds, able to go back to sleep on their own. And it was never much of an issue. They easily go back to bed after nightmares or noises, with a quick kiss and a tuck-in. We're all generally happy with the arrangements.

But for that night last week, and for any subsequent ones when the need arises, I imagine I'll say yes again.

And maybe even get some sleep.

Scooter Pod Races

With this mild weather, we've been outside a lot, often without jackets even, playing for hours in the leaves, dirt, as acrobats, as Star Wars characters, with sticks, and especially with scooters.

In fact, the combination of Star Wars and scooters is the most popular. The kids strap on their helmets, grab their scooters, and race back and forth on the long sidewalk pretending to be X-wing or TIE-fighter pilots, either destroying or protecting the evil Galactic Empire. (We call it podracing, though they're not really pretending they're on Tatooine or in podracers.) They make pit stops for gas, communicate with each other as "Red Five" and such, and either rescue or attack me, Princess Leia. It's all very exciting.

Especially as they go zooming around the corner at the end of the next street at lightspeed.

Dance of the Sugarplum Fairies

It feels like spring both inside and outside the house. Outside, it is warmish, especially for mid-November, end damp. Inside, we're the faeries of spring. We dressed up in our costume finery--wings, dresses, headdresses--and danced around to Tchaikovsky (the "Chinese Dance," though), while spreading springtime. Sis was in charge of plants. Bud was in charge of spring in general. And I was in charge of baby animals. Most importantly, we had to shake this green glitter ball, for if the glitter is not suspended in the liquid, winter will fall on us unprepared. So we shook the ball, prepared the land for winter, and gathered food inside our own little faerie houses. Winter did fall, only once, when we literally dropped the ball and forgot it, but it was cozy in our hut with ice cream and soup. The plants and animals fared just fine and we woke them up minutes later. Spring again.

Impatient

At least three people this week have expressed surprise that I am not back to "normal" yet. "When are you going to be better?" "Hasn't it been too long?" "Does your back still hurt?"

Yes, it has been a long time. Almost 13 weeks by my count. Longer than I imagined; certainly longer than I would've liked. I feel the disappointment, too. Mostly because I'm doing so much better and have come so far from that first completely immobile 24+ hours and then weeks in bed and literally months not sitting or driving or going much of anywhere. But I'm not doing it all yet. I could give you a long list of what I'm not doing, from sneezing without fear to bathing (I hate showering but what can I do?) to any kind of crafting (which means storebought for all, not as many cookies to bake, and a delayed homemade present for Cousin Hungry), but I really am trying not to dwell. I'm doing the best I can; as a family, we're coping and doing what we need to get through (I should say "Mama is doing what we need to get through). And no, I don't know when I'll be, if ever, normal--Gommie likes to call it "the new normal"--if only because I'll remember.

And I'm working hard to be okay with that. To do everything I can (lost 2 lbs this week; took my myriad of supplements for inflammation and muscle memory; didn't sit much beyond necessary; walked everyday--that's 210 minutes of exercise each week!). To accept "chronic" and any limitations and learn to live with it. To be mindful and present. To be grateful for where I am. Because I know it could be worse. Middle-of-the-night googling of symptoms and medical terms has taught me that, as well as stories I keep hearing. And my imagination. And my experience.

But there's more to me than my back.

Which I am trying desperately to remember.

And to forget.

Second Chances

I have started this post several times and can't figure out how to express myself about a situation that is either big or small: I am uncomfortable that my kids play videogames and spend too much screen time instead of playing outside or even actively together when they play with the neighbor boy.

I like the boy. I like his parents. And, in general, I don't believe I need to or should intervene in my kids' play with their friends.

Okay, that last bit can't possibly be true. These are helicoptered, policed kids whose only friendships have so far been orchestrated and overseen by me. But they're five. That's part of my job. But my job description is changing and I think I'm having trouble adapting. Again.

I guess the truer statement would be that I don't want to be one of those moms, with too many rules, meddling instead of trusting her kids. I think they need to navigate their friendships on their own, with me watching from the sidelines for support, guidance, and only the occasional intervention.

But is this one of those times to intervene?

Let me explain: yesterday was a holiday and all the kids were home. Sis, Bud, and I had made cookies in the morning and then gone outside to play our new game of "podracer scooter," where they race along the sidewalks pretending they're in X-Wings fighting the evil Galactic Empire, which is blowing up planets with the Death Star. Soon enough, neighbor boy appears and, instead of heeding my suggestion to continue to play outside, they all go into his house.

Let's stop here. I know already that I was probably a mite hurt that they abandoned me to play with him. That all my posturing about playing outside is just that.

I went over about a half-hour later to find them watching Star Wars and eating on the couch. I don't object to their seeing Star Wars because we'd actually watched the ending for the umpteenth time that morning. But I had told the neighbor boy no when he had asked if they could watch it. Not because I object to the movie or even them watching together but because I thought they should play instead.

See, my judgement, my values, my opinion of what was best. When, maybe, bonding over their favorite film with their favorite neighbor was just what they wanted.

And I messed it all up.

So the neighbor boy suggested they watch Twilight together.

Twilight. The tween/teen vampire flick.

No way.

And I panicked that they could've done just that and I wouldn't have known. Or worse, in my mind, watched Empire Strikes Back, which he then suggested. I want to be the one to watch that with them. Yep, my issues. My control.

And then he said they would just play videogames.

In general, I like this kid. Sure, he says "Oh My God!" and "Dang it!" more than I like, dubious exclamations that Bud has now adopted. But he's a nice kid. Even with his God and Jesus hang up. He's not mean, aggressive, violent, or rough. And he likes my kids. And my kids like him. And I like his parents, who are friendly, casual, liberal, live-and-let-live types.

Who let their boy watch more tv, movies, and videogames than I allow. We do about an hour of screen time a day, all media combined. And I think that is enough for now. Though, I'll admit I feel the allure of the DSi for Sis and Bud, and a burgeoning struggle with them over how much is too much videogame time. It doesn't help that I don't see the attraction of videogames at all, never having been into them, having missed that boat as a tween. Mama, who has her own videogame addiction and her own DSi games, has tried to explain it to me, but it is as foreign to me as baking (or blogging) for fun would be for her.

So it comes down to this: should I manage this relationship tightly? and if so, how? They played about 4 hours together yesterday and only a little of it was inside screen time. But only because I intervened. And I'm wondering if I should have. The boy's dad was doing his own thing and didn't care about screen time (his one comment: "he plays outside when we go camping but won't go outside at home"); his mom was at work. Maybe I should've just let them watch Star Wars or play Mario Kart instead of insisting they play outside or something more active. Maybe instead of controlling the activity, I should've set a time limit. Or maybe I should've just butted out. I mean, what damage could one four-hour screen marathon have done? Maybe I should've waited to see? But I panicked in a jumble of conflicting emotions about friendships, mothering, responsibility, their growing up and leaving me behind, being the cool mom, etc etc etc.

They did finally have a really good time outside. Sis and Bud got to try his two-wheeled scooter and his skateboard while he practiced riding a bike with his dad. And then they played various yard games before coming inside to build marble runs and racetracks. All good, interactive, healthy play that is better than screen time. For now. In my mind. But I know that is judgmental and out of touch with how today's kids usually socialize. But I see and read about how too much screen time can be so detrimental to children's mental, emotional, physical health.

People, moms all, though at different stages, I spoke to yesterday basically all said it was my job to watch my kids' friendships and limit what I find unacceptable. Sure, I get that, especially about sex and drugs and late nights and keeping curfew. But does that mean I need to practice on videogames? Do they? Videogames in moderation? How do you enforce that at someone else's house without causing real, unnecessary, hurtful conflict with your own kids, the other kid, and/or that kid's parents? Isn't experiencing how other people do things an important part of growing up? What's acceptable? What's not? When can the unacceptable be a learning experience? For us all . . . .

In the end, I don't think any of it was a big deal for the kids, who spoke more about making cookies at dinner than anything else, which I have to admit made me feel so good and so guilty all at the same time. I'm glad it wasn't "how Mom ruined our holiday," even though that's how I felt; there's time for that, though. We did agree on a new family rule: if you're going to watch a movie, you have to ask Mom first.

I hope they do, too, soon. I think I need a second chance at this.

Later. When I have figured more of it out.

My Enemy, My Friend

Exercise.

I have a hate-tolerate relationship with it that has never approached anything like love.

The only B I got in junior high was in P.E. And I always failed the Presidential Fitness tests we were subjected to. But did I get a remedial class or any investigation into why I wasn't good at it? Nope. Just teasing (and bad grades), though mostly minor.

And now, decades later, exercise, I believe, has led to at least three injuries. In truth, I should admit that I probably began each exercise unprepared for it, even though I was under doctor's orders. When I took up walking in the summer of 2007 as part of my WW regimen I threw out my back a week later and only realized after I was diagnosed with a significant leg differential, that it was probably the burst of exercise that put my muscles over the edge. Then this summer, when I began swimming, my thoracic gave out within about a week. This led to the discovery of scoliosis and my two curves, one lumbar, one thoracic. I didn't put two and two together until much later because everyone said you couldn't get hurt swimming. Then, I replaced swimming with an elliptical, and while obviously other things were involved, I can't separate the beginning of my use of my elliptical with the herniation of my disc. Yep, less than a week later.

Of course, every doctor and PT I've seen says exercise is the key to back recovery because I need to strengthen my core (after diastasis, hernias, c-section). So I've been walking. Everyone tells me I can't get hurt just walking (now that I have orthotics and a lift, of course). That it might be the only thing I can do with my overly sensitive musco-skeletal system. So I have been walking since the second week of September. Long past my one-week-of-exercise-injury track record. They might be right this time.

Let's hope. Because I'm back on my elliptical a little each day--no more than 5 minutes--trying to gear up for the winter when I won't be walking outside in the snow.

And it's been about a week . . . .

Holiday Baking 2010: The Beginning

We've started our holiday baking marathon today with KAF's Brown Sugar Cookies. They were a fun cookie to make because, once you roll the dough into a little ball, you smoosh them with a sugar-coated glass. And we opted for colored sugars; green and red today, because that's what I have, but I'm going to find some blue as well. We'll freeze them for the church bake sale, after the kids eat several. Then, a day or so before the sale, we'll defrost them, dip them in chocolate, and add yet more sprinkles (but probably only on the white sugar ones; the colored sugar ones are pretty enough). It's quite a tasty cookie, almost caramel-y because of the brown sugar. And crisp with some chew in the thicker ones. They don't "grow" much in the oven so ours are relatively small--a bit bigger than a silver dollar--and yet we still only got 45 instead of 55 cookies from the batch. We'll probably make at least 2-3 more batches for the bake sale, which would give us about 12+ dozen cookies to take. And that's just the beginning . . . .

-=-=-=-=-=-

Brown Sugar Cookies

Dough:

3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter

1 egg yolk

2/3 cup light brown sugar

1 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/2 teaspoon salt

2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour

Topping:

1 cup chocolate chips

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

3 tablespoons light corn syrup

colored jimmies, colored nonpareils, finely chopped nuts, or other sugar decorations

To make the dough: In a large bowl, beat together the butter, egg yolk, brown sugar, vanilla, and salt until well combined. Mix in the flour. Cover and chill the dough for at least 1 hour.

Preheat the oven to 375F. Lightly grease (or line with parchment) two baking sheets (I needed three).

Break off teaspoonfuls of dough and form them into balls. Place on the prepared baking sheets and flatten to 1/4 inch thick with the bottom of a glass dipped in granulated sugar (it helps to moisten the glass the very first time. We also used colored sugar for fun, but won't top those with chocolate).

Bake the cookies for 10-12 minutes, until they're lightly browned. Remove them from the oven and transfer to a rack to cool.

To make the topping: In a small bowl in the microwave, or in a small saucepan set over very low heat, melt the chocolate chips and butter together, stirring until smooth. Stir in the corn syrup.

When the cookies are cool, use a flat butter knife or small icing spatula to cover half of each cookie with the topping, so you're looking at a cookie that's half iced, half bare. The make small piles of whatever garnishes you use--it's fun to mix and match--and dip the chocolate-coated side into the decorations. Nonpareils and colored jimmies are fun. Toasted, finely chopped nuts are tasty. Refrigerate the cookies in a single layer on a baking sheet until the chocolate sets, about 1 hour.

The King Arthur Flour Cookie Companion

We Told You So

That lesbians make good parents: study shows child abuse rate at ZERO in lesbian households.

So let us get married and/or foster or adopt!

The Secret Code

At the book fair last month, Bud chose a Star Wars ABCs book, which we have now read pretty much everyday since then.

And now we're playing it.

Because we're using the alphabet it provides as a code. To spell out things we want to say.

You can only imagine how that goes, especially since the kids are only beginning spellers.

But it's cute to hear them spell our names, which they do repeatedly, and their sight words from school, and find new combinations they like. Such as "Yoda-Obi-Ugnaught ("you"), which just sounds funny. We also noticed that we use a lot of "Millennium Falcons." This morning, I even wrote their school snack notes in code.

Star Wars fever shows no signs of abating (mine lasted, what, 6 years between SW and ROTJ? Which I suppose is short compared to some), especially with Christmas lists already in production here.

In case you want to play, too, here is the not-so-secret code (and, no, I don't know where I, V, or Z come from):

A is for Anakin.

B is for Boba Fett.

C is for C-3PO

D is for Darth Vader.

E is for Ewok.

F is for the Force.

G is for General Greivous.

H is for Han Solo.

I is for IG-88.

J is for Jedi.

K is for Kaminoans.

L is for Luke Skywalker.

M is for Millennium Falcon.

N is for N-1 fighter.

O is for Obi-Wan Kenobi.

P is for Princess Leia.

Q is for Queen Amidala.

R is for R2-D2.

S is for stormtropper.

T is for TIE fighter.

U is for Ugnaughts.

V is for Vulture droid.

W is for Wookiee.

X is for X-Wing.

Y is for Yoda.

Z is for Zam.

101 Possibilities

Check out Mark Bittman's 101 Thanksgiving recipes compendium for some great holiday ideas. Right now, I'm partial to Pumpkin Noodle Kugel (#35) and Cranberry Polenta Cakes(#27).

The Art of Cooling Dinner

In magazines articles about dinner prep, there is always a lot said about timing, "from table to store" in 30 minutes or "time-saving tips" or how to get Thanksgiving on the table all a the same time.

But the most important aspect of cooking and time that I deal with is this: having enough time for the food to cool down before it's ready for them to eat!

The Fall of Fall

Upside Down You Turn Me

Sis and Bud saw a troupe of Chinese acrobats performing the most amazing tricks this weekend: body contortions, balancing acts on chairs and bicycles, spinning plates, flipping bowls on their head while pedaling unicycles, something we can only call "the yo-yo," tumbling (which is such a simple word for such amazing maneuvers!), lion dancing, among other things.

So of course that came home and wanted to do the exact same things.

Despite the fact that the performance was prefaced with an announcement "not to try this at home," a warning reiterated by Mama several times, along with "they've practiced for years."

Suffice it to say, those warnings didn't stick. The kids have been trying to replicate the easiest-looking of the tricks, only to find that it's really hard to catch a bowl on your head, even when you use your hand and not your foot to toss it there, or that you can't spin one plate on a stick much less three in each hand while flipping yourself back and forth.

They were a little more successful outside, on the rope ladder and monkey rings and the swings. Thank goodness we mulched that playset this summer! Not that I think 2 inches of bark will keep it from hurting when they fall on their heads. But that's the theory.

I did enjoy both their own acrobatic performance for us on Sunday and also watching the video of the troupe with them, particularly because I hadn't gone with them. Really amazing stuff, that, though I kept holding my breath lest they make a painful mistake and imagining how much I would hurt myself if I tried the same thing!

And I managed to teach the kids how to do a headstand, memories of my own thumping against the living room wall of my childhood home suddenly fresh in my mind. Note: couch pillows help.

But at least you can try that at home.

We Got Game

We've started a new family tradition: game night!

Except it's more like nights, in the plural, because we've played three different times in four days, since beginning the activity last Friday. But the kids loved it so much, as did Mama, and even game-averse me, that we've played a lot.

As originally organized, game night included playing games in our pajamas downstairs after dinner with special snacks to eat in the living room. Which was fun for several reasons--we usually go straight up for stories; we're rarely downstairs in our pjs at night; and we never eat in the living room. That night, we each chose a game--Zingo, dominoes, Hi-Ho Cheerio, and Bingo. The next night, Mama taught us Old Maid, played with a regular deck of cards and the Joker as the Maid. We used foil and plastic wrap boxes for the kids to hold all their cards at once and they laughed and laughed each time they got the Maid, alerting the next player. "Game face" means nothing to these kids. But that's all part of the learning process.

Which continues. Mama's on the hunt for the next generation of games, one step up from Chutes and Ladders and CandyLand, something with a bit more strategy but that doesn't involve lots of reading or math. I'm not sure how we feel about team games. She's thinking Sorry or Trouble or something new. We'll probably also expand our card game repertoire--Slap Jack, Go Fish, Battle, whatever. My knowledge of games is extremely shallow. Eventually, I imagine, game night might even involve group video games. We already did a three-way MarioCart race. But I'd need my own DSi.

I can't believe I just typed that. Things, they are a-changin'. And it's good.

Early to Rise, Early to Bed

The time change is for childfree people or parents of teenagers, those who do not have to contend with little kids who do not see the value in sleeping in an extra hour every fall.

Sis woke up at 5:45 a.m.--the new time--on Sunday, because, for her, it was 6:45 a.m.--the old time--and wake-up. And no amount of explaining could convince her it was not really morning.

The only saving grace? Bedtime last night was at 6:30 p.m. by the clock--it felt like 7:30 p.m. to them and it was dark, so there was no complaining.

Except from us, because regardless of the fact that we were awake the same number of hours, it was just all backwards.

It's one of the things I miss about my childfree days (hope you enjoyed it, Aunt Banana!). Though, that's not to say that I'm ready for them to be teenagers.

My Big Fat Greek Bean Pot

Revisiting one of my favorite cookbooks, Fresh From the Vegetarian Slow Cooker by Robin Robertson, I came across a recipe for that tomato-y white bean dish that I love so much (called fassolia, usually, I believe). And it so happens that I had purchased two bags of Greek gigante beans at the Greek Festival in the spring. I put the huge beans on to soak last night, with salt as is my new way (I've found that it's the acid not the salt that toughens beans), and boiled them til tender this morning. The smell of the garlic and onion sauteing in a ton of olive oil was perfect on this cold and windy morning. And the beans, now mixed with that and tomatoes in my slow cooker, smell fantastic! And you can eat them hot or cold . . . I just wish I had some bread and some baklava!

-=-=-=-=-=-

Greek Big Beans

1/4 cup olive oil

1 large yellow onion, chopped

3 garlic cloves, minced

3 cups slow cooked beans or two 15.5 oz cans lima or butter beans, drained and rinsed (or actual Greek gigante beans. I wonder if you could use fava?)

28 oz can diced tomatoes, with juices

salt and pepper

1/2 cup minced fresh parsley leaves

Heat oil and cook onion, covered, until softened, about 5 minutes. Stir in garlic and cook another minute or so.

Transfer the onion and garlic to a 3 1/2 to 4-quart slow cooker. Add beans, tomatoes, and salt and pepper to taste. Stir. Cover and cook on LOW for 4-6 hours. Just before serving, stir in parsley.

Robin Robertson, Fresh from the Vegetarian Slow Cooker

Our American History

A timeline of history, according to Sis and Bud:

Star Wars

"little creatures"

dinosaurs

"Pequot people"

settlers

Revolutionary War

us

Surpise!

Sis woke up this morning, crying "Mommy!" something she hasn't done in a very long time.

Mama molted into her room, where Sis had been scared by a noise outside, as if the gutter was falling off.

Not quite, we realized, as we opened the window: SNOW!

Okay, not really snow, because it is above freezing and all but a very unexpected ice storm that looks like snow. (Actually, Accuweather is now calling it a mix of snow and rain).

So, they coated, mittened, hatted, and booted, rushing outside to play in the first white precipitation of "when we are 5!" The scraped together several snowballs and generally marveled at it all. And it is pretty.

Let the season begin!

Update (7:00 a.m.): It's falling as snow now! Big white chunky flakes. Against the red and yellow leaves . . . .

Halloween Fun 2010: The Finale

The orange-and-black boxes are almost completely backed, save the ghost we haven't unhooked from its spot on our porch or the wreath on the door. Otherwise, most vestiges of Halloween are gone. Well, except the two buckets of candy into which the kids occasionally dip.

And the jack o'lanterns.

Sis's is outside, happy fodder for the local wildlife, mainly brave squirrels who have already dragged off the lid and are making a mess of the remaining pumpkin.

But Bud's is on the porch, with a few pockmarks from marauding squirrels. We had (I thought) prepared him for the inevitability of the squirrels and how it was actually a nice thing to let them graze on the squash instead of tossing it in the trash. But he was distressed by the half-eaten eyes and couldn't bear any more rodent vandalism, weepily grabbing up the pumpkin that he had lovingly and carefully designed and carved and placing it safely on the porch.

Where it still sits.

I guess we're going to have to sneak it away sometime this week. Before it rots all on its own, which will be similarly depressing.

Waiting

I'm alone in the house. The kids went with Mama to a Chinese acrobats performance. And then for ice cream. They probably won't be home for awhile yet, having lots of fun on their afternoon out. And I, at home with my "weaver's bottom" (ischial bursitis), have been having a very quiet afternoon, with two episodes of "Tudors" and a walk, plus some cleaning and reading and emailing and talking on the phone. But even though I appreciate the rest and quiet, I can't wait to hear all about the lion dancers and the soft-serve . . . and have it be just a bit noisier.

Two of My Favorite Things

I haven't done an "In the Papers" since I've gotten out of bed, mainly because I'm not in bed anymore and am not reading as much.

But, I am reminded that this is my favorite time of year for two reasons: 1). holiday dinner recipes and 2). holiday baking recipes. I'm a glutton for all of those "bookazines" with 101 new cookies or great vegetable side dishes. And I watch the papers for interesting ideas to clip. In fact, I'm already planning 1). Thanksgiving dinner; 2). Thanksgiving potluck at church; 3). Cookies for a). our church bake sale and b). my playgroup cookie swap; and 4). edible gifts for teachers, service staff (you know, postal workers, vet personnel, pediatrician's staff--I'm not sure what the rubric would be for all of them), and friends. The only thing I'm not quite occupied with yet is Christmas. That will come in a few weeks. I love it!

And I have two places I'm avidly watching, the NYTimes' Vegetarian Thanksgiving series over at the Well Blog, and Baking Banter at King Arthur Flour. If you need ideas this holiday season, head over there and be inspired . . . .

They Might be Gods

It rained two inches on Thursday. But, because it was warmer, and there was no thunder, and, even more importantly, because school let out early, I let the kids play outside in the drizzle. Our driveway is not flat and thus develops great puddles and eddies when it rains. Perfect for splashing in. Then they began to sail leaf-boats and I suggested they were giants stomping over a little world.

But they wanted to be gods. Sis was the god of the sea, Poseidon, while Bud was Athena, god of crafts and wisdom. I was Artemis, in charge of all the animals, since I helped them save a worm. We splashed around the continents and oceans and peppered the lands with leaves and dug up and redistributed mud, wreaking havoc, causing floods, but sometimes taking care of the little people. We were good gods for the most part. Well, except for the flood.

So, I mentioned Noah and Gilgamesh, telling them that most cultures have flood narratives. All they could wonder is how all the animals of the world could fit in an ark. And I didn't even mention the unicorns . . . .

"All the Children Are Above Average"*

We had our first (and, I believe, only) kindergarten parent-teacher conferences today. One for each, of course. And I think we did an pretty good job of listening to the teacher's report, asking pertinent questions, and finishing on time.

Well, except perhaps with Bud's teacher, who got us giggling about Bud's forgetfulness. Earlier this week, apparently, Bud was at the computer station with the headphones on when it was circle time. So he hopped up, got tangled in the wires of the headphones, and ended up all twisted on the floor, wires everywhere, shouting out, "I'm okay! I'm okay!" Our sweet Bud, who forgets his backpack, folder, library book, milk tickets, his head if it weren't attached.

And has three women to keep him in line. Which means he'll never learn. (And might drive Sis to distraction before he does!)

We were pleased with all reports (no cute stories about Sis, though . . . not that she's not cute, but we spent the extra time talking about strategies for working with left-handed kids), about reading, writing, and . . . yes, you guessed it, arithmetic. But also about classroom behavior and social skills with peers. Which for me is more important. I know they'll learn to read and that most academic discrepancies equal out by 2nd or 3rd grade. I want them to learn how to listen to the teacher, follow directions, be kind to others, navigate the playground and snack tables and bus happily, respect all.

But we'll still be doing all that homework!

-=-=-=-=-=-

*That's Garrison Keillor on "Lake Wobegon," "where all the women are strong, the men are good looking, and the children are above average."

Happy Birthday!

Happy, happy birthday to my little sister, Aunt Banana!

With a full-time, long nightshift nursing job and a baby-on-the-way in 3 weeks, I doubt you have much downtime but hope you get a chance to celebrate YOU!

Love from all of us . . . and some virtual cookies that we'll be making in your honor!

VOTE

Okay, so the polls are closed everywhere in CT but Bridgeport where they purchased something like 48,000 ballots less than needed. Bridgeport. A heavily Democratic city. Was a Republican in charge of placing the ballot order? (No, for the record, it was one of each. But the Republican chair did try to stop the polling extension, thereby threatening the disenfranchisement of all those Democratic voters. Of course.)

We took the kids with us to the polls on our way home from the city, explaining to them how it is our right and responsibility to vote. As our "we voted" sticker read, "I made freedom count."

The kids were intrigued, not least because we let them feed the ballot into the machine, "Did you vote for Obama? Did you vote for Obama's people?"

Of course, because we agree with what the NYTimes editorial board says here.

It's a wonderful freedom to live in a dark blue state. It's our right and responsibility to vote to keep it that way.

Someone's in the City with Mommy

We took advantage of the Election Day school holiday to take the kids into NYC today, first for my doctor's appointment and then for some fun. The doctor, who continues to be a supportive and good listener, confirmed after looking at all my x-rays and MRIs that I have trouble in my mid-thoracic because of scoliosis and the resultant bulging discs. There is almost nothing to be done about it because it is a hard spot to exercise and very dangerous to operate. So I am just supposed to keep walking to strengthen what I can. And take pain pills when it flares up. At least it was nothing new, right? Except there was something: bursitis. In my tail bone. Which is making it uncomfortable to sit those full 15-30 minutes I sometimes sit in a day when I drive the kids to school. It should get better on its own; if not, injections. I probably just sat funny, even just once. Great. I think I can safely say that I'm never going to sit again--just causes too much trouble.

The drive into town was stressful when Sis remembered that she'd forgotten Shirt at home, something we do regularly but it must have mattered more today. And she was hysterical. But eventually calmed down. Until Bud brought it up again. And he was obsessed with fire escapes--what were those ladders for? why did you need them? what happens if you can't get to the escape? And all I can picture are the Twin Towers. Soon, however, the still intriguing novelty of being in Manhattan took over and they were admiring the tall buildings and longing for a street-cart hot dog.

After my doctor's appointment, during which they played on their new Nintendo DSIs, bought specifically to distract them during the visit (that, and Mama wants them to be videogame literate, so it was on her list to do anyway), we went to the Met. Our main destination was the Kublai Khan exhibition, which didn't really interest them on the first viewing and disappointed me on this, my second (we'd seen it when we were early for my last doctor's appointment). The objects were rare and intriguing, though impenetrable, and the dense labels were not at all helpful explanations for laypeople (I'm more than a little familiar with Chinese art, Taoism, and Buddhism, and I found them impossible to comprehend. Shouldn't let curators write labels. Ever.). We did, however, really enjoy a small exhibition on Chinese birthday celebrations, including the imagery of the 7th-century (or was it 6th?) General Guo Ziyi's 80th birthday, dragon robes, and decorative arts with the symbol for longevity, cranes, and peaches. And they liked the Buddhas and Indian gods with several arms. Of course, we also visited Egypt, to see Sis's beloved "William" the blue hippo, and Arms and Armor (where she likes the Samurai helmet with the bunny). And, in American, the Versailles panorama and Frank Lloyd Wright room. But no Washington Crossing the Delaware yet. We saw Panini's Ancient Rome in the exhibition on Roman views and Bud immediately recognized that it was a painting of a museum (though an imaginary one with a hole in the roof). We spent some time in 19th-century European, particularly once Sis and Bud spotted the Van Goghs, recognizing the trees and the swirls from their study of MoMA's Starry Night. And they liked the dots of the Seurat (though not as much as the thick impasto of Van Gogh). Sis was also intrigued with Moreau's Oedipus and the Sphinx; Bud liked the story and asked me to retell it repeatedly, particularly the riddle part, which Sis actually guessed right off (though, I'm not sure at first that she knew why humans are the ones who walk on four legs in morning, two at midday, and three in the evening). Then, Sis wanted to see a Jackson Pollock and they both pondered--stared dumbfounded at--Autumn Rhythm. And in the room of Clyfford Stills (like the big red dog?), Sis said, "This is the room of paintings that don't look like something." Over and over, "why did they paint this, Mom?" We talked about how this is what artists wanted to paint after a long time of painting people and stories and landscapes. We talked about how the viewer helps decide what the paintings are about. We finally agreed that they were paintings about paint. Smarter than some of my Art Hist 101 kids, I say.

We did notice in the Temple of Dendur ("the building within a building") that the crocodile in the fountain was missing. For the rest of the visit and the drive home, we imagined where it could be, making up fantastical tales about him wandering the Met at night, befriending "William," and eventually escaping out a door left open during party clean-up (not that I'm saying that happens!). Then the crocodile wanders the city, meets dinosaurs and diorama animals out and about from AMNH, and can eventually be found all over the city and back at the Met, just in different rooms. But not in any of the ones we saw today.

So, head to the City and look for that crocodile . . . no telling where it will show up next!

It might even be worth sitting down for.

New Hobby?

I think I might take up a new hobby: sewing.

Sure, I can cross-stitch and hand quilt, under duress, and make pillows and the like on my little sewing machine, using skills form my intro to sewing in 8th grade Home Ec (Probably one of the last groups to actually take that class. And I was "Homemaker of the Year" in my grade! But like typing, it was some of the most useful stuff I took in high school.). But I can't make clothing. And I'm realizing that I'd very much like to be able to. I am so impressed by people who can sew, from my Aunt T's intricately pieced quilts and M.Q.'s three-fabric holiday pillowcases to the apron (and other pieces shown on her blog) made by Ms. Sew-and-Sow.

I want to be able to make Sis and Bud's Halloween costumes next year, regardless of what they choose. I mean, this year, I should've been able to make the Jedi and knight costumes. Just like my mom did, from my pink fairy princess dress to my pink pioneer/prairie dress, from my maroon and white pep squad outfit to my black and white clown costume. And my sister's authentic Gizmo from Gremlins costume.

And, I want to be able to make period garb, for the Renaissance festivals we go to, and particularly if I become a docent at an early American house and need a colonial costume (more on this if it happens, but it's in the works for spring).

But, those are very advanced. I better start with something easier. Any suggestions or advice? Maybe I can practice on Christmas presents for everyone . . . .

God and Jesus

"Where did you come from?" the neighbor boy asked Bud and Sis, as they ate lunch and I hovered inconspicuously, stirring something on the stove.

Oh, no. No discussions about sex and reproduction with a first grader and two kindergarteners at my house.

"Our mommy made us," came their reply. Whew. But I wasn't out of the woods yet.

"No, that's not true. My mommy didn't make me," the neighbor boy said to my kids, "God and Jesus did. They put me together with parts at church."

Okay, I think I'd rather talk about sex than God. My kids stared at him dumbfounded.

Thankfully, I know his mom and dad and their very liberal ideas on such matters (for instance, they didn't send him to CCD because they don't want him "infected" (their words) with Catholicism. And so I knew he wasn't getting this at home, but probably from the CCD kids at school), because then I said, "Well, not everyone believes that."

"Yes, they do. Because it's the truth."

"It's okay for you to believe that. And we respect your beliefs. But we believe something else."

"Well, you are the only one."

"No, we're not. We were at church this morning with a whole bunch of people who don't believe that."

And he stared at me as if I'd grown horns. Literally.

Sis kept insisting that she came from me, that plants come from seeds, that our brains and bodies evolved from monkeys, as the neighbor boy pressed his case. But my heart nearly stopped when Bud said that God had made his brain.

Now, as you know, I'm uncomfortable with God language, first because I don't actually believe in an omniscient, omnipresent, or omnipotent divinity and, second, because I am concerned about using the word "God" to refer to whatever natural, spiritual force I believe exists in the universe because it might be confused with the biblical God and all the theology that has been built up concerning him. But, I try to be open-minded and not reject out of hand my children's use of the term God, however they might understand it. But I'd be lying if I didn't have a knee-jerk reaction to Bud's statement.

I wished I had put more clearly what I do believe into words, both for the neighbor boy and for Sis and Bud, since I've read how important positive affirmations can be in faith formation. But I don't have my God-and-science-and-mythology-as-metaphors-created-by-humans-to-understand-the-world-around-us speech boiled down to the elementary school level yet. And that's not positive, exactly; it still doesn't answer how I do think the world works, which, frankly, I believe is completely beyond our scope of understanding, hence the metaphors.

Anyway, the kids went round and round and round, getting nowhere and everywhere at the same time.

But when the boy asked, "Where do toys come from?" and I said, "Santa Claus," Mama kicked me.

Let's not puncture all the myths. Especially because I like that one.

On the bright side, the boy's parents, whom I called immediately after they all headed outside to play, got a good laugh at it all. And Mama, who had just sworn off church the night before because she just doesn't enjoy weekly socializing, said she'd go back, if only to help our kids with answers to these kind of questions, no doubt the first of many.

Though, the questions are just as important, I think, as the answers.

Halloween Fun 2010: Halloween (At Last!)

After more than a week of celebrations, it was finally Halloween last night.

And we almost missed it!

See, after church, we had lunch, played with the neighbor boy (more on that next!), and then carved pumpkins. Bud and Sis had chosen their own pumpkins last week and got to carve them this week. They each designed the faces, helped sketch it in crayon on the pumpkins, were grossed out by removing the seeds and strings (though Sis did all of hers all by herself!), and then actually got to use the little serrated saw to cut the incisions (child-friendly saw with lots of adult supervision). They were so proud.

We had a Star Wars rest time and realized at 5 pm that we needed to eat dinner before "tricker treating" at 5:45 with said neighbor boy and friends. Oops, too much rest. Mama rushed to pick up burgers and we raced to locate warm underthings to wear with the costumes, as we were under a freeze warning for the night and it was windy. We packed water and flashlights in a backpack that would also be used to carry the candy that no longer fit in the pumpkins and raced at the door, barely taking pictures. Thankfully, Gommie let us call her on Skype later, after we'd gone tricker treating. I did manage the safety talk, mainly about watching for cars, since I've read in several places that poisoned candy is mainly an urban legend (or in-family, as it was when a man tried to kill his son with a Pixie Stix when I was a kid. We were not allowed to have those for years) and that child molestations are no more frequent on Halloween than any other day. Still, I doubt we'll be letting them out alone anytime soon . . . and we still check the candy.

And what fun we had! The kids are getting good--not shy at all--about accosting strangers for treats! Though, at several houses, ours included, there was only a bucket outside from which to grab some candy--because now, both parents go tricker treating unlike when and where I was a kid. I did return to the house when the kids' itinerary took them up hills, which are still too much for me to manage comfortably. And I enjoyed passing out some candy (and lying on the couch in between!). With 360 lollipops in the bag Mama bought, I urged everyone to take large handfuls. But we still have a ton leftover. Which I'm hoping to send to the troops once I find an address.

The kids were done tricker treating with their friends--Sis's favorite girl, Cleopatra, in flip-flops!, the neighbor boy as Darth Vader (luckily, he and Obi never got into it), and a few other miscellaneous current tv or video characters I didn't recognize--by about 7:30 and came home to examine literally pounds and pounds of candy. They traded back some of it for tickets, mostly the stuff with peanuts, which we then recycled in our own candy basket out on the front steps. We saw Gommie and Pop on the computer, talked to Ma and Gong, Goo, and wished Aunt Banana, busy at work, "happy Halloween." They ate a few pieces of candy, hopped around jovially, and crashed in bed by 8:30 something.

Whew. Thank heavens it's finally November!

Except Sis is ready to start celebrating Thanksgiving today . . . .

Halloween Fun 2010: Mischief Night

It's a custom up here in Connecticut, and apparently throughout the northeast, to wreak havoc the night before Halloween, known as "Mischief Night." Though, having lived up here for several years, I would have never known it was a special evening . . . no evidence of mischief has every appeared.

This year we made our own mischief on Saturday night, celebrating Halloween, yet again, at church with a potluck and a mummy-wrapping game. There were cupcakes galore and lots of little ones in costume. Bud was dressed as Obi-Wan Kenobi, whom we called "Obi" all weekend, and Sis went as a lady knight instead of a firefighter, vacillating between those two costumes. They mainly ran around with their friends, wishing, I think, that there were more organized games. Bud did play skittles several times, which involved spinning a top with a string to knock over several standing begs in different chambers of a huge game box. He really enjoyed that, once he got the hang of it with Mama's help.

I had kinda hoped people would dress up in costumes on Sunday for church, but even UUs think that is too much, I guess. I wore my orange jack o'lantern t-shirt but that was about it. Though, one of the congregants did bring his Darth Vader mask, much to Bud's excitement. So, I handed him my 'droid so he could use the lightsaber program; he ended up trying on the mask but declaring it too hot. Sis and Bud learned about Samhain (pronounced "saw-wain") and made brown sugar butter to serve with bread during coffee hour. I had hoped to spend some time commemorating those in our lives who have died but we got all wrapped up in candy and pumpkins and costumes that I forgot.

Maybe today, which would be fitting on All Saints Day, I think.

Good vs. Evil

We recently had a guest speaker at church who, as a professional peace mediator, had witnessed unspeakable crimes and suffering in such places as Kashmir and Sarajevo. But she could still speak of goodness and respect and hope.

She credited much of her ability to do her job to her Unitarian Universalist upbringing which encouraged her "to embrace the whole world with long and wide arms": to seek justice, respect differences, believe everyone had a voice. She said, however, that the UU church had not explained or prepared her for evil, since UUs don't believe in hell or the devil or original sin. But she has found that evil can exist where suffering, hardship, and inequality exist for generations so that people can no longer see or reach out in the kind of goodness elsewhere. Violence, degradation, oppression, are too overwhelming, too ingrained, and they answer in the same. This doesn't mean that people have no goodness, only that they believe their own survival requires what we would term evil. Her job is to try to acknowledge the suffering and search for common ground between adversaries: love of family, fear for children, need for food and shelter.

Sis said to me, when we were discussing how we should not ever make fun of the little girl on the spectrum at school, "No one would do that, Mom. It's not respect."

And I realized we were heading down the same UU path that the guest speaker had trod. With so much focus on respect, inherent worth and dignity, and being kind, we have neglected to prepare the kids for the fact that those are not everyone's core principles. Or that even in trying to follow those, that good people can otherwise do unacceptable things. Much less real evil. And so I said just that. That not everyone will treat them and others fairly or kindly or with respect. That they had to do their best to stand up for themselves and others when that happened. (And then tell an adult!) And, while I was glad that they couldn't really fathom that yet ("Mom, why did Anakin turn to the dark side?" over and over and over), I was nervous, too, that they were going to be completely unprepared.

I think we all will be. But like the guest speaker, I hope we can keep walking with our UU principles and find in them hope.

Fair vs. Equal

"Mom," Sis said, trying to understand "equator" during our discussion of the seasons last night on the ride home, "equal means fair."

Except when it doesn't.

The concepts of fair and equal, as well as the terms themselves, have popped up a lot in our house this week. And I heard, I believe for the first time, "It's not fair!"

Bud came home from school with a favor bag in celebration of a classmate's birthday. Sis is in another class.

Sis's class went out for recess. Bud's didn't.

Bud's class was one letter ahead in the alphabet and got homework first. Sis wanted homework, too.

And the biggest one of all: Sis is in a Daisy Scout troop. Bud isn't.

It's. Not. Fair.

And, heaven help me, I found myself saying, at least once, "Life isn't fair."

Except we try extremely hard to be fair. For us, fair means "free from bias, dishonesty, or injustice." It means not favoring one child over the other. Equal is "the same as." It's just hard to explain the difference to them. Fair means that we treat each child as an individual. Equal would mean we would treat them the same. Fair means that sometimes Bud or Sis get something the other one doesn't, especially out in the world. Equal would mean we would have to make up for how friends and school and others treat them differently. Fair means we try to keep it balanced over all. Equal would mean two of everything, even if they didn't really want or need it, except on principle

But that's not how they see it. As twins, they are very used to being together, doing the same things, and being treated identically (even though they are obviously fraternal); they are not used to any differences. And now, in school, in separate classes, they are having different experiences. And they don't recognize that this is because they are different people, with different interests, skills, and needs. Which is exactly why we separated them in school. But it is a steep and bumpy learning curve. And we as parents tread very carefully so that the competition, jealousy, sense of unfairness, etc. don't overwhelm them. Some sibling rivalry is natural and necessary to identity formation; too much is destructive, corrosive, exhausting to the relationship.

And so, in an attempt to be fair, we're trying to figure out how to balance Sis's Daisy Scout experience for Bud. Does he want mom-time? Friend time? Another activity? He can't even say, beyond "I'm angry and sad and I feel left out." Should we arrange for a one-on-one activity with one of us? Have playdates with school friends? Join a soccer or baseball or something team? No, none of that seems to suffice. "I want to be a Girl Scout." Or a Boy Scout, depending on the day. (To which we have to say, he can't be a Boy Scout because they are not nice to everyone. Definitely not fair or equal, that group.) And so, I am considering starting a new troop, a church club, with outings and activities and even badges. He's not completely jazzed yet--especially because Sis would come too, and it's church not school friends--but it's the best we can come up with right now. I know it's going to be a work-in-progress, both this particular incident, and the overall balance.

Because we do try, after all, to make life fair when it's not equal.

Halloween Fun 2010: The Haul

Mama's office always throws a nice party. Last night's annual "tricker treat" was no exception. Especially because, after four years of attending, the kids have the swing of things: they can spot bowls of candy on desks from 5 cubicles away! Thankfully, they've also mastered the actual "tricker treat" and even the thank you, plus only taking one piece of candy from each bowl proffered. Which might make us sound strict, but they probably stopped at 75 bowls and came home with large pumpkin-fulls of candy. Even so, most co-workers pressed handfuls of candy on them. Sis got good at finding the Tootsie Rolls and at avoiding peanut candies. They would even both stand still while we talked to the other adults instead of sprinting to the next bowl! And, for the first year, they weren't scared of anything, "Mom, decorations can't scare us!"

Sis was a firefighter, eschewing her oxygen mask and fire extinguisher this go-round but carrying her ax. Bud was a Jedi. Yes, I know, that wasn't his original plan. But he latched onto the idea so strongly that I went looking for and found an Obi-Wan Kenobi costume yesterday (and, to be fair, we offered Sis the option of adding to her costume, but she was happy). He was thrilled to wear the brown cloak and belt to hold his lightsaber. And everyone could easily identify him (and you should've heard the men--yes, mostly men--reliving their own childhood Star Wars fantasies!). And liked how they were both strong rescuer-types.

After almost 2 hours of trolling for candy, the kids were wiped and . . . so we thought it was a good idea to go for dinner! Barbecue at a crowded, loud restaurant. Perfect for overstimulated and exhausted kiddos. (And mommies who didn't want to cook!) Who nonetheless revived with brisket and ribs and were able to enjoy walking around outside in the dark, admiring stars and the river. And going for huge cupcakes for dessert.

On the way home, I regaled them with stories of my elementary-school carnival and trick-or-treating in the neighborhood. And, while I'd like to say they fell into a candy coma, they did not fall peacefully into slumber on the drive but did get to bed pretty much right when we got home.

So they can be ready for another party tonight!

Separation Anxiety

No, not the kids.

Me.

And not about the kids.

See, recently, it has become very clear to me that the kids have moved on from their toddler/preschool friends to their new kindergarten friends. When they were thinking of friends to invite to Applepalooza, they named kindergarten friends; same when they chose who to visit as the Phantom the other night. And when we were thinking about whom to BOO after being BOOed last night.

I think it must be the first time they've chosen their own friends and actually engaged with them independently. As toddlers and preschoolers, when we would have a playgroup, they would mostly play alongside, in parallel play, with the other kids, though mostly they played alone or together. Only recently have they really begun to interact with the playgroup friends . . . just when we see them less and less. But, until now, if asked to name a friend, they'd pretty much name each other.

Now they're naming friends I don't even know. Friends I'm not sure I want to be friends with. Because of course, up to now, their friendships have been dictated by my friendships, out of convenience. And I'm not ready to move on from my friends of the last five years. We have been through a lot together, know each other, like each other. And so it's strange that my kids don't think of my friends' children as friends anymore. I almost want to apologize. Because I know the separation will only increase and more preschool friends will be left behind: this year, it's Halloween treats; next year, it will be their birthday party.

Except I know I can remain friends with my "old" friends even as my kids move on, that I don't have to abandon them to make friends with these "new" moms just because my kids do (though, that said, I like some of these "new" moms, too). I've been trying to think about what concerns me the most: losing my cohesive and comfortable support group? finding out we only had the kids in common and weren't actually as close as I thought? missing my friends because we see them less? hurting my friends because we see them less? being rejected by the "new" moms at school? But who the kids play with is not about me anymore. I have less control and more uncertainty. And there is just more independence and separation.

Just one more way the kids are growing up, I guess.

And me too.

Pretty in Pink

There have been two days recently when the kids didn't have to follow the dress code: for picture day and for a dress-down fundraiser for Breast Cancer awareness.

And on both days, the schoolyard was a sea of pink!

Given the chance, everything Sis has on is pink. Just like almost all the girls in her school, it seems. And she was in rare form today, practically a-glow in pinkness. The teacher at drop-off even giggled to see the pink shirt, pink jeans, pink socks, and pink shoes.

All that was missing was a bow. Or a crown. But she doesn't do that. She likes her pink plain.

We tried to go the green-yellow-purple route for the kids, not locking them into gender-specific colors, but it doesn't seem to have mattered. At least it's her choice and makes her so happy. And I'm good with that. (Especially because it is only a favorite color, not an attitude or a lifestyle.)

In fact, I'm sorry she can't wear her favorite color to school everyday.

Though, neither one of us might like it as much then.

Halloween Fun 2010: Painting Pumpkins

Let the fun continue! We're in the heart of it now, with more preparations and activities than we ever see for Christmas, all crammed into a much smaller time frame, but without any of the stress, guilt, and pressure. Maybe that's why kids and adults seem to be crazier about Halloween than when I was a child (all supported, of course, by a variety of industries eager to encourage our holiday spending)--it's pretty much fun, pure and simple.

And there's more candy and costumes.

This week, the fun into flowed into the schools, where Halloween is generally verboten, because, you know, it's Satanic. Don't get me started on how silly that is. Strictly speaking, this was a pumpkin/harvest-type thing, free from all the usual devil-worshiping and witchcraft-laden activities of the traditional, Charlie Brown-type Halloween. I guess it's not Satanic if the pumpkins don't have eyes or a mouth. Sigh. Anyway, the kids painted pumpkins on t-shirts in school, with parents helping out with the stencils and outlining. No mouths or eyes, of course. I was in charge of the curling green vines. For both classes. I'm now a vine-curling expert! It was fun to watch the kids paint the shirts, even more fun to see them wear them tomorrow.

You know, for that generic, non-Halloween, pumpkin celebration that always coincidentally occurs at the end of October.

Do we really think we're fooling the evangelical Christians with that? Is their faith that susceptible? Or their reasoning that shallow?

Isn't it even more pagan to idolize a squash?

In the Mood

Okay, with 70F temps and a mosquito that bit me today, I'm not feeling fall much. But these pictures help.

Nerves of Kryptonite

Sis's, not mine.

She sat calmly as I ran to get the little scissors.

And she sat just as calmly as I cut the dead skin flaps from her big toe injury.

EEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I told her she got a ticket for being so brave.

I want one, too!

The Other White Meat: It's What's For Dinner*

(*Yes, yes, I'm mixing up my meat council commercials.)

I'm making dinner, a new recipe for me, though Mama tried it out on the kids during my . . . convalescence? injury? month from hell? Anyway, it's pork and sweet potatoes and they loved it. I hope they do again. Hmmmm, should've thrown in some apples, too. Maybe I'll bake a few for dessert.

-=-=-=-=-=-=

Roast Pork with Bert's Sweet Potato Stripes

1 1/4 lb lean pork tenderloin

2 tablespoons olive oil

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 teaspoon dried sage

1 teaspoon salt

6 medium sweet potatoes, peeled

Preheat oven to 450. Place pork on a rimmed baking sheet. In a small bowl, mix 1 tablespoon oil, garlic, and sage. Rub the garlic mixture all over the meat and sprinkle with 1/2 teaspoon salt.

Cut each potato into 8 spears.

In a large bowl, toss potato spears in remaining 1 tablespoon oil and 1/2 teaspoon salt. Arrange potatoes in single layer on baking sheet.

Roast pork and potatoes for 15 minutes or until pork is 145F (cooking times will vary based on size of tenderloin). Remove pork and let stand 10 minutes before slicing. Use a spatula to turn over potatoes. Reduce oven to 400F and roast potatoes 5 more minutes or until tender.

Sesame Street's C is for Cooking