Today's my dad's birthday.
I don't think birthdays count when you're dead. I mean, at the end of this month it will be J.S. Bach's 334th birthday, which is vaguely interesting, but doesn't mean much. That information places him in a historical context, but unless he was still around to celebrate, he isn't really turning 334. He's just gone.
This is the fourth birthday of my dad's where it doesn't count.
Except it still kind of does.
I feel like I don't need markers on the calendar to remind me of my dad. I think of my dad all the time. It still hurts that he's gone more than I would have imagined. But then he still haunts places like Facebook where on days like today an algorithm clicks into gear and tells me to wish him a happy day. I hate that algorithm, and we need to untangle my dad's memory from it somehow.
So thinking specifically about my dad on his birthday a couple of things come to mind.
The first is that we shared a birthday month, but not an astrological sign. I'm a Pisces, and he was an Aries. Not that I think those things mean anything at all, but my dad every once in a while would offer to read us our horoscopes from the paper when he came across them. My mom's inevitably said she would be receiving more responsibility, so she was not a fan. The running joke when my dad read our horoscopes was claiming never to remember which sign I was. I honestly could never tell if it was a joke, or if he really didn't remember.
The second thing is the doughnuts from Machus. In his years running the gallery he acquired a sort of fan club of people who didn't necessarily bring in much business, but who liked to hang around and talk to my dad. My dad was smart and funny and wacky in subtle ways. I understand why certain people just wanted to be in the gallery with him. I did, too. There was one man in particular named Dr Stemple (who died several years ago) who used to bring my dad a doughnut from Machus on this day every year. They were dense, and covered with thick chocolate. My dad loved them, and used to say it made up for the number of hours Dr Stemple distracted him from work he was supposed to be doing.
I'm too busy to run out today and find the equivalent of a Machus doughnut. Weirdly, the closest thing might be those waxy chocolate covered doughnuts from Entenmann's, which my dad liked just as much as the expensive doughnuts.
I miss my dad. I wish he were around so we could celebrate today. I'd get him whatever doughnut he wanted.
My own space apart from the babble of the internet
Showing posts with label birthday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label birthday. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 27, 2019
Tuesday, March 14, 2017
The Packets
One of the lovely things about my dad was he collected packets of articles for people he cared about. He lived to file articles. There are still dozens of large boxes of them to sort through since he died, and it will be a long term project to go through the raw feed of material he meant to separate out into particular piles, but I have in my possession about fifteen packets just for me and my family.
From the time I left for college to about a year or so before he died, my dad assembled collections of articles for me in big yellow envelopes. He did that for my brothers. He did that for other friends and family as relevant articles presented themselves. If you expressed an interest in a topic around him you might get a file of papers in the mail. It was his obsession to clip and save from printed material, and in its distilled form the packets were personal filing masterpieces. I don't know anyone who got one who didn't feel special for receiving it.
If he really deeply loved you, though, you got a lot of packets. And my dad deeply loved me.
From the time I left for college to about a year or so before he died, my dad assembled collections of articles for me in big yellow envelopes. He did that for my brothers. He did that for other friends and family as relevant articles presented themselves. If you expressed an interest in a topic around him you might get a file of papers in the mail. It was his obsession to clip and save from printed material, and in its distilled form the packets were personal filing masterpieces. I don't know anyone who got one who didn't feel special for receiving it.
If he really deeply loved you, though, you got a lot of packets. And my dad deeply loved me.
Sunday, March 13, 2016
At a Loss
Some days you don't get to pick your attitude. I know there is many a pithy quote to be found on Facebook about choosing a positive thought and about how all you can control is yourself so you have only yourself to blame if you are not happy.
Well, when things are on an even keel, sure. Some days, though, we need to cut ourselves some slack if we don't have the energy to force some more noble perspective.
My birthday is this week and I'm not feeling good about it. It's my first birthday without my dad. His birthday would have been on Easter this year and it's the first one of his since he died. I don't like these kinds of firsts. I keep tearing up unexpectedly. I can go weeks at a time at this point where I don't think of dad in terms of loss, just in terms of pleasant memory, but not this weekend.
Well, when things are on an even keel, sure. Some days, though, we need to cut ourselves some slack if we don't have the energy to force some more noble perspective.
My birthday is this week and I'm not feeling good about it. It's my first birthday without my dad. His birthday would have been on Easter this year and it's the first one of his since he died. I don't like these kinds of firsts. I keep tearing up unexpectedly. I can go weeks at a time at this point where I don't think of dad in terms of loss, just in terms of pleasant memory, but not this weekend.
Saturday, December 5, 2015
Turtle Cake!
I only really had one evening to plan and create Mona's surprise cake, so I settled on a turtle because turtles are cute, Mona loves them, and turtles are sort of flat and round like a cake already anyway. Turtle cake!
Mona's only request was that it be chocolate. Easy enough. Ian was kind enough to bake me a couple of round chocolate layers while I was at work so they'd be cool enough to assemble when I got home. I built myself a turtle shape, put on a crumb coat, and let it all sit in the freezer while I mixed up a batch of fondant.
Mona's only request was that it be chocolate. Easy enough. Ian was kind enough to bake me a couple of round chocolate layers while I was at work so they'd be cool enough to assemble when I got home. I built myself a turtle shape, put on a crumb coat, and let it all sit in the freezer while I mixed up a batch of fondant.
Sunday, November 22, 2015
Fish Cake!
Well, chocolate cake, anyway, shaped to look like a fish.
I'm not sure why this year Quinn settled on "fish" as a dessert theme for his birthday (even took cupcakes to school with Swedish Fish on them), especially since his party was at a roller skating rink, but the fish cake was easier than the peacock cake, so I didn't mind.
Monday, June 22, 2015
What Day Is It?
I was checking Facebook this morning before heading out to swim and was reminded it's the birthday of my cousin's daughter. She's five today, which is exciting, but then I remembered that her birthday is the same day as our wedding anniversary!
I kind of forgot we even have an anniversary. I looked at Ian and said, "Hey! Happy Anniversary!" and he looked surprised and then smiled and said, "Oh yeah!"
Then we took a moment to do the math and realized it's been 18 years. We are a whole-legal-to-vote-person-amount of married. Kind of cool!
I remember years ago in college my family threw me a surprise birthday party one year, but since I obviously didn't know about it I started the day feeling disappointed that nothing special was happening. I was just going with Ian to my grandma's house for dinner the way we did every Sunday. But then I realized that what was an ordinary kind of day for me was better than what many people get for a special occasion, and I had a lot to be happy about on my birthday. And then, of course, I got to be super extra happy anyway when we pulled up to grandma's and realized everyone had gathered there.
But I never forgot that genuine sense of contentment and joy that I came to just thinking about how good I have it in my day to day life. Today's anniversary is like that. I love my marriage. I like it just the way it is day to day. I don't need the super extra happy to enjoy it. Big gestures and special things can be fun and exciting from time to time, but I wouldn't trade that for how nice my life is in general at its most ordinary.
My husband spent the day doing all manner of things to keep our household running smoothly and to make our lives better. I hope I was as helpful to him. I think we're a good team. (Even if we're not good at remembering to, you know, check the calendar sometimes.)
I kind of forgot we even have an anniversary. I looked at Ian and said, "Hey! Happy Anniversary!" and he looked surprised and then smiled and said, "Oh yeah!"
Then we took a moment to do the math and realized it's been 18 years. We are a whole-legal-to-vote-person-amount of married. Kind of cool!
I remember years ago in college my family threw me a surprise birthday party one year, but since I obviously didn't know about it I started the day feeling disappointed that nothing special was happening. I was just going with Ian to my grandma's house for dinner the way we did every Sunday. But then I realized that what was an ordinary kind of day for me was better than what many people get for a special occasion, and I had a lot to be happy about on my birthday. And then, of course, I got to be super extra happy anyway when we pulled up to grandma's and realized everyone had gathered there.
But I never forgot that genuine sense of contentment and joy that I came to just thinking about how good I have it in my day to day life. Today's anniversary is like that. I love my marriage. I like it just the way it is day to day. I don't need the super extra happy to enjoy it. Big gestures and special things can be fun and exciting from time to time, but I wouldn't trade that for how nice my life is in general at its most ordinary.
My husband spent the day doing all manner of things to keep our household running smoothly and to make our lives better. I hope I was as helpful to him. I think we're a good team. (Even if we're not good at remembering to, you know, check the calendar sometimes.)
Sunday, November 23, 2014
A New Mold-A-Rama, and Quinn Turns Eight
Quinn is eight.
I've been thinking about the difference between Quinn turning eight compared to when Aden turned eight.
Aden was my first baby. In some ways she'll always be a baby to me. But as the oldest she's always ahead, and always the first to arrive at certain milestones. It was with Aden that we had to learn how to let her form her own life outside of us at school, and to walk to the store alone, and to take on new and more complex responsibilities. Next to her siblings her most notable feature is always that she is older.
Aden was my first baby. In some ways she'll always be a baby to me. But as the oldest she's always ahead, and always the first to arrive at certain milestones. It was with Aden that we had to learn how to let her form her own life outside of us at school, and to walk to the store alone, and to take on new and more complex responsibilities. Next to her siblings her most notable feature is always that she is older.
Monday, November 17, 2014
Peacock Cake
Quinn requested a peacock cake for his birthday. Took a bit of work, but I think it came out nice.
Actually, he originally requested a pigeon birthday cake and a peacock Halloween costume, but remembering back to his grey and black Roomba cake when he was two I told him a peacock cake might be more appetizing and definitely tastier. He agreed and switched the requests. (And his pigeon costume came out cute, so I'm glad he did.)
(Here's the Roomba cake if you're curious. Quinn loved our Roomba and that was his first real word after "Mama.")
(Here's the Roomba cake if you're curious. Quinn loved our Roomba and that was his first real word after "Mama.")
Friday, December 6, 2013
Mona-Rama
My Mona is ten! How can my baby girl be ten?
Since Thanksgiving fell so late this year, Mona had the chance to have
extended family at her birthday party. I told her we could arrange a
friend party if she wanted it, but she liked Quinn's birthday adventure in Chicago and wanted something similar. We declared it an extended Mona birthday weekend, and spent a day with visiting relatives at the Field Museum, and on their last morning in town we threw a
breakfast party with crepes and a chocolate fountain before everyone
headed for home. We spent the rest of that day exploring the Museum of Science and Industry and had a blast.
For Mona's actual birthday this week she took cupcakes to school, got to pick where we went to dinner (who knew she liked Culver's that much?) and I baked her a cake. I love having the chance to bake interesting cakes for my kids. Mona didn't decide until the day before her birthday what she wanted this year, though. She wanted a cake in the shape of a Mold-A-Rama from our collection and thankfully she chose probably the easiest one to turn into a cake: the Space Shuttle figure from the Museum of Science and Industry.
Since Thanksgiving fell so late this year, Mona had the chance to have
extended family at her birthday party. I told her we could arrange a
friend party if she wanted it, but she liked Quinn's birthday adventure in Chicago and wanted something similar. We declared it an extended Mona birthday weekend, and spent a day with visiting relatives at the Field Museum, and on their last morning in town we threw a
breakfast party with crepes and a chocolate fountain before everyone
headed for home. We spent the rest of that day exploring the Museum of Science and Industry and had a blast.For Mona's actual birthday this week she took cupcakes to school, got to pick where we went to dinner (who knew she liked Culver's that much?) and I baked her a cake. I love having the chance to bake interesting cakes for my kids. Mona didn't decide until the day before her birthday what she wanted this year, though. She wanted a cake in the shape of a Mold-A-Rama from our collection and thankfully she chose probably the easiest one to turn into a cake: the Space Shuttle figure from the Museum of Science and Industry.
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
Mold-A-Ramas at the Museum of Science and Industry
As part of an extended birthday celebration for Mona over Thanksgiving weekend we took a couple of trips down to Chicago. The first was with relatives to the Field Museum, and the second was after the guests left and just our little family went to the Museum of Science and Industry. That was where we sought out the last set of Mold-A-Rama machines we know of in Chicago. Mona declared it the best birthday destination ever.
The Museum of Science and Industry is a spectacular place. It was all decked out for Christmas with sparkling trees and lights everywhere, so it was particularly festive. There was so much to touch and marvel at, and now that we know we can get in free with our reciprocal membership to our own science museum we will go back! (Although, to get into the submarine or the mine exhibit we'll have to buy tickets next time.)
Plasma balls, baby chicks hatching, an enormous train set, and a little kids' area called The Idea Factory with water guns and plastic balls that none of my children felt too old for. I even got some Christmas shopping done in the gift shop, so life was good all around.Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Mold-A-Ramas at the Willis Tower, and Quinn Turns Seven
Do you know the story of the Taoist Farmer? I heard it the first time in a martial arts class many years ago. The version of the story I remember is that the farmer's horse runs away, which seems like bad luck, but then the horse returns with two wild horses, which seems like good luck. Then one of the wild horses throws the farmer's son breaking the boy's leg which seems like bad luck, until all the able-bodied men in the village are soon conscripted into war.
Quinn's recent birthday felt like that all day. There were both figurative and literal ups and downs, actual dark clouds along with rainbows and tears. It was exhausting, and not a birthday we are likely to forget.
When I asked Quinn a few weeks ago what he'd like to do for his seventh birthday he was ambivalent. Since he could take or leave a friend party, I decided we should just stick with family and do something interesting. I suggested a trip to the Willis Tower (still the Sears Tower in my heart) for a trip to the Sky Deck and to add the two Mold-A-Ramas they offer there to our collection. He loved the idea.
My thought was that if we were going to make the visit to the Willis Tower for Mold-A-Ramas at some point anyway, may as well tie the overpriced experience to an important moment. I figured every time we drive through Chicago in the future we will see that famous skyscraper and remember celebrating Quinn turning seven. What could go wrong?
Well, the weather, of course. We woke up to rain, and wondered if driving all the way to Chicago just to look at the inside of a cloud at 1,353 feet up in the air was worth the trouble. With the Museum of Science and Industry as a backup plan we decided to chance it.
By the time we reached Chicago the clouds had broken up and we decided to the top of the Willis Tower we would go. We parked several blocks away, enjoyed a windy walk downtown, made our way through several lines to buy tickets (Ian was free with his military I.D.!) and wait for an elevator, and then we were on the Sky Deck.
It really is amazing. Pricey enough I doubt we'll do it again, but certainly worth doing once. The views every direction are tremendous, and there are four glass decks that protrude a few feet out from the building so you can look down to the ground underneath you from where you are standing. The kids all felt very brave.
Quinn's recent birthday felt like that all day. There were both figurative and literal ups and downs, actual dark clouds along with rainbows and tears. It was exhausting, and not a birthday we are likely to forget.
When I asked Quinn a few weeks ago what he'd like to do for his seventh birthday he was ambivalent. Since he could take or leave a friend party, I decided we should just stick with family and do something interesting. I suggested a trip to the Willis Tower (still the Sears Tower in my heart) for a trip to the Sky Deck and to add the two Mold-A-Ramas they offer there to our collection. He loved the idea.
My thought was that if we were going to make the visit to the Willis Tower for Mold-A-Ramas at some point anyway, may as well tie the overpriced experience to an important moment. I figured every time we drive through Chicago in the future we will see that famous skyscraper and remember celebrating Quinn turning seven. What could go wrong?
Well, the weather, of course. We woke up to rain, and wondered if driving all the way to Chicago just to look at the inside of a cloud at 1,353 feet up in the air was worth the trouble. With the Museum of Science and Industry as a backup plan we decided to chance it.
By the time we reached Chicago the clouds had broken up and we decided to the top of the Willis Tower we would go. We parked several blocks away, enjoyed a windy walk downtown, made our way through several lines to buy tickets (Ian was free with his military I.D.!) and wait for an elevator, and then we were on the Sky Deck.
It really is amazing. Pricey enough I doubt we'll do it again, but certainly worth doing once. The views every direction are tremendous, and there are four glass decks that protrude a few feet out from the building so you can look down to the ground underneath you from where you are standing. The kids all felt very brave.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
How to Feel Good about 44
Happy Birthday to me! I get to be 44. That's a lot of trips around the sun (for which I probably over-packed).
I've been coming across a lot of blog posts recently by people who are feeling freaked out about reaching certain ages, particularly numbers like 40, 45, and 50. I have trouble relating to this. I had a nice childhood, but wasn't satisfied being a child. I was more than glad to be out of my teens. I didn't particularly care about not being in my 20s anymore because I never fit in with what people supposedly did in their 20s. I was sad to not be considered young at some point, but looked forward to being taken more seriously. I remember when I was in college and I realized when I did the math that at our family New Year's Eve party in 2000 I would be 31 and was a little concerned. Reaching 30 sounded very adult and responsible in a way I wasn't sure I could live up to. I briefly pictured myself in a pink sweater and pearls and feeling it was inappropriate to climb on chairs to put up decorations at that grown up stage. And then I realized that was silly. Why would I change in that way? I wouldn't. And didn't.
I did feel a little worried when I turned 30 that I wasn't where I thought I should be yet at that age, but I was on my way. My 30s turned out to be a big, complicated blur of pregnancies and C-sections and deployments and diapers and violin work and home ownership and what have you. I was very busy, but I have no picture of myself in my mind being in my 30s. I feel as if I simply survived my 30s.
But the 40s? I'm liking this. My body isn't tied up with my children the way it used to be with gestation and breast feeding and constant contact. With my kids' independence comes more of my own, and that bit of distance is making me feel like a whole person. A person with possibilities. There is so much good stuff to do! So many wonderful things ahead! A number like 44 doesn't diminish that for me.
The biggest secret to feeling good about being 44? Don't start exercising until you're 43.
I've been coming across a lot of blog posts recently by people who are feeling freaked out about reaching certain ages, particularly numbers like 40, 45, and 50. I have trouble relating to this. I had a nice childhood, but wasn't satisfied being a child. I was more than glad to be out of my teens. I didn't particularly care about not being in my 20s anymore because I never fit in with what people supposedly did in their 20s. I was sad to not be considered young at some point, but looked forward to being taken more seriously. I remember when I was in college and I realized when I did the math that at our family New Year's Eve party in 2000 I would be 31 and was a little concerned. Reaching 30 sounded very adult and responsible in a way I wasn't sure I could live up to. I briefly pictured myself in a pink sweater and pearls and feeling it was inappropriate to climb on chairs to put up decorations at that grown up stage. And then I realized that was silly. Why would I change in that way? I wouldn't. And didn't.
I did feel a little worried when I turned 30 that I wasn't where I thought I should be yet at that age, but I was on my way. My 30s turned out to be a big, complicated blur of pregnancies and C-sections and deployments and diapers and violin work and home ownership and what have you. I was very busy, but I have no picture of myself in my mind being in my 30s. I feel as if I simply survived my 30s.
But the 40s? I'm liking this. My body isn't tied up with my children the way it used to be with gestation and breast feeding and constant contact. With my kids' independence comes more of my own, and that bit of distance is making me feel like a whole person. A person with possibilities. There is so much good stuff to do! So many wonderful things ahead! A number like 44 doesn't diminish that for me.
The biggest secret to feeling good about being 44? Don't start exercising until you're 43.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
The Last Baby Tooth
My oldest child just turned eleven.
I still remember her as the beautiful baby she was over a decade ago. Aden was the perfect training baby. She was patient, seeming to forgive all our bumbling as we taught ourselves what to do as new parents. She ate well and was sleeping through the night at about four months. She was bald for a long time and her eyes were (are) incredibly blue. And I don't care what any expert says about when children develop empathy because in Aden's case she was sensitive to the feelings of others from very early on. Anytime she saw me cry she would cry too. She's my tenderhearted girl.
We had a sleepover party for her this past weekend that included the girls making their own pizzas for dinner, a couple of games of Aden's own invention, and our own version of Cupcake Wars. That was fun. We baked a gabillion mini cupcakes and set out frosting and marshmallows and fruit and sprinkles and sugar paper and modeling chocolate and then set a timer for different decorating challenges. (One round was 'the ocean', then 'zombies', then the holiday of their choice....) They had a five minute time limit on each round and the judges were me, Mona, Quinn, and our dog Chipper (who gave everyone a ten each time which we assumed was correct based on the level of tail wagging he exhibited when we held him up to look at the cupcakes). Ian got to judge the final round of displays. The winners got to eat their cupcakes. The losers had to eat their cupcakes.
I was impressed at Aden's party how inclusive she was of her siblings. Mona and Quinn did not get pushed off to the side just because friends were over. She's a good big sister, and she may not be the best example for getting her chores or homework done without prompting, but she's wonderful about leading her little pack of siblings in a harmonious way.
Earlier this week on Aden's actual birthday she lost her final baby tooth.
I still remember her as the beautiful baby she was over a decade ago. Aden was the perfect training baby. She was patient, seeming to forgive all our bumbling as we taught ourselves what to do as new parents. She ate well and was sleeping through the night at about four months. She was bald for a long time and her eyes were (are) incredibly blue. And I don't care what any expert says about when children develop empathy because in Aden's case she was sensitive to the feelings of others from very early on. Anytime she saw me cry she would cry too. She's my tenderhearted girl.
 |
| Ready to decorate! |
Earlier this week on Aden's actual birthday she lost her final baby tooth.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
A Birthday off to a Good Start (Babble)
Happy Birthday to me! I’m 43 today. I really enjoyed being 42 and am sad to see it go, but 43 isn’t too shabby so far.
About a week ago I was feeling a tad grumpy about my birthday. The Army has managed to interfere with it almost every year since we moved to Wisconsin. It was scary having Ian in Iraq for two of them, and just irritating when he was home but had drill. Looking ahead to my birthday on my calendar when I got it at the beginning of the year I thought to myself, “Wednesday! There won’t be drill on a Wednesday.”
So of course Ian got sent to Ft Knox for the whole week to do things like SRP and PT and LMNOP and other capital letter events. And it’s a week where I have rehearsals three nights in a row and have had to find sitters.
I gave up on the idea of going to work. When Ian was last deployed Quinn wasn’t in school yet and I didn’t have to deal with the half-day pickup. Now the half-day pickup is such a wrench in the schedule, and I couldn’t figure out a decent way to run the store from 10:30 until 5:00 with pickups at the school at 11:00 and 2:20, and still feed everyone and get them to violin lessons and choir, etc. I hope my assistant is having a good time running things alone.
I had visions of getting a lot of work done on my violins since I would be home all week. That has not happened. I literally did not step foot in my shop yesterday, and the day before I cut a piece of ebony (for a saddle) down from 39mm to 36mm and that was it! At this rate those violins will be done, uh, never.
But it’s okay. Ian will be back soon and I will work again because we can share the chores and there will be a pocket of time for me to do what makes me feel like myself. There’s a huge difference between getting by for a week or two, and having to adjust to an absence long enough it may as well be permanent. The stress of always being denied the chance to do the things that interest me was hard to bear. It made me unfairly resentful of the kids and a less pleasant person. But just a week? I can enjoy being here for them and not worry that my life is on hold. It’s fine, and I’m having a good time, actually, running the house the way I like it and getting to spend more time with each of my children.
So back to my birthday. My big gift today has been feeling like I have done a damn good job raising my kids. I suffer the same guilt many mothers do about not doing enough or being there enough or any of the myriad of ways that enough doesn’t seem like enough. But my kids are lovely and have some decent life skills and I got to see that on display this morning.
When I say life skills, I mean my kids can make crepes. They would not survive the zombie apocalypse, or frankly even survive a movie trailer about it, but my kids put together a breakfast in bed that got my birthday off to the best start ever.
Aden and Mona set their alarm and got up early and told me to stay in bed.
They made crepe batter and flipped them all on their own.
They walked the dog.
They CLEANED THE KITCHEN. (They emptied the dishwasher and refilled it and wiped down the counters and cleared the breakfast table of their own plates.)
They brought me a plate of crepes on a tray that used to belong to my grandmother. They served them with honey from Germany given to us by my brother, along with a little powdered sugar and brought me water in a water bottle. There was a knife for the honey and a hand drawn card signed by all my kids.
It was pretty amazing.
Now, my children are not perfect, because that would be boring. They don’t have good time management skills and we got to school very late. There was also a moment when Aden got angry with Mona for blurting out, “We’re not making you breakfast in bed!” and I had to break it to Aden that I had already figured it out and really what I want for my birthday is for everyone to get along so she needed to get over it and forgive Mona. And Quinn was in tears for a while because when he couldn’t figure out what to draw on the card he got embarrassed and started telling his sisters to leave him alone and they were mad at him for trying to eat his own breakfast rather than help. I had to cuddle the tears away and give him a bunch of my crepes because he didn’t want to go back downstairs.
So there’s that.
But that my kids have figured out that the true joy of breakfast in bed isn’t the thought or the food but that it shouldn’t make more work for the recipient than it’s worth is a real breakthrough. They CLEANED THE KITCHEN! And served me a breakfast without anything that made crumbs or could spill. I am stunned. And happy! And 43!
On top of that when I dropped the kids off at school I realized I’d forgotten my swim bag. So I’m skipping exercise today because I’m tired and I don’t want to and you can’t make me. I might bake a cake. Or take a nap! Or even get into my shop for more than ten seconds. I miss Ian, but as far as birthdays go this one is working out just fine. It’s not even raining! I’m used to sleet on my birthday, but the sun is shining and it’s supposed to get into the 70’s today. I even heard back from an agent requesting to look at my non-fiction proposal. I’d buy a lottery ticket except there’s nothing much more I could want.
(Wait…. Maybe I’m not awake yet. Eh, even if this is just a dream it’s a good one. To everyone else, happy Pi Day!)
(Kids saying goodbye to their dad before he drove off to Kentucky. What did I ever do to deserve this family? I am the luckiest person I know, and I will remind myself of that the next time the dog throws up on the carpet.)
UPDATE: The rest of my birthday was great. I watched my kids on their scooters, baked a cake, read a book…. And at my orchestra rehearsal tonight the group played ‘Happy Birthday’ for me and I almost cried. So far being 43 rocks.
About a week ago I was feeling a tad grumpy about my birthday. The Army has managed to interfere with it almost every year since we moved to Wisconsin. It was scary having Ian in Iraq for two of them, and just irritating when he was home but had drill. Looking ahead to my birthday on my calendar when I got it at the beginning of the year I thought to myself, “Wednesday! There won’t be drill on a Wednesday.”
So of course Ian got sent to Ft Knox for the whole week to do things like SRP and PT and LMNOP and other capital letter events. And it’s a week where I have rehearsals three nights in a row and have had to find sitters.
I gave up on the idea of going to work. When Ian was last deployed Quinn wasn’t in school yet and I didn’t have to deal with the half-day pickup. Now the half-day pickup is such a wrench in the schedule, and I couldn’t figure out a decent way to run the store from 10:30 until 5:00 with pickups at the school at 11:00 and 2:20, and still feed everyone and get them to violin lessons and choir, etc. I hope my assistant is having a good time running things alone.
I had visions of getting a lot of work done on my violins since I would be home all week. That has not happened. I literally did not step foot in my shop yesterday, and the day before I cut a piece of ebony (for a saddle) down from 39mm to 36mm and that was it! At this rate those violins will be done, uh, never.
But it’s okay. Ian will be back soon and I will work again because we can share the chores and there will be a pocket of time for me to do what makes me feel like myself. There’s a huge difference between getting by for a week or two, and having to adjust to an absence long enough it may as well be permanent. The stress of always being denied the chance to do the things that interest me was hard to bear. It made me unfairly resentful of the kids and a less pleasant person. But just a week? I can enjoy being here for them and not worry that my life is on hold. It’s fine, and I’m having a good time, actually, running the house the way I like it and getting to spend more time with each of my children.
So back to my birthday. My big gift today has been feeling like I have done a damn good job raising my kids. I suffer the same guilt many mothers do about not doing enough or being there enough or any of the myriad of ways that enough doesn’t seem like enough. But my kids are lovely and have some decent life skills and I got to see that on display this morning.
When I say life skills, I mean my kids can make crepes. They would not survive the zombie apocalypse, or frankly even survive a movie trailer about it, but my kids put together a breakfast in bed that got my birthday off to the best start ever.
Aden and Mona set their alarm and got up early and told me to stay in bed.
They made crepe batter and flipped them all on their own.
They walked the dog.
They CLEANED THE KITCHEN. (They emptied the dishwasher and refilled it and wiped down the counters and cleared the breakfast table of their own plates.)
They brought me a plate of crepes on a tray that used to belong to my grandmother. They served them with honey from Germany given to us by my brother, along with a little powdered sugar and brought me water in a water bottle. There was a knife for the honey and a hand drawn card signed by all my kids.
It was pretty amazing.
Now, my children are not perfect, because that would be boring. They don’t have good time management skills and we got to school very late. There was also a moment when Aden got angry with Mona for blurting out, “We’re not making you breakfast in bed!” and I had to break it to Aden that I had already figured it out and really what I want for my birthday is for everyone to get along so she needed to get over it and forgive Mona. And Quinn was in tears for a while because when he couldn’t figure out what to draw on the card he got embarrassed and started telling his sisters to leave him alone and they were mad at him for trying to eat his own breakfast rather than help. I had to cuddle the tears away and give him a bunch of my crepes because he didn’t want to go back downstairs.
So there’s that.
But that my kids have figured out that the true joy of breakfast in bed isn’t the thought or the food but that it shouldn’t make more work for the recipient than it’s worth is a real breakthrough. They CLEANED THE KITCHEN! And served me a breakfast without anything that made crumbs or could spill. I am stunned. And happy! And 43!
On top of that when I dropped the kids off at school I realized I’d forgotten my swim bag. So I’m skipping exercise today because I’m tired and I don’t want to and you can’t make me. I might bake a cake. Or take a nap! Or even get into my shop for more than ten seconds. I miss Ian, but as far as birthdays go this one is working out just fine. It’s not even raining! I’m used to sleet on my birthday, but the sun is shining and it’s supposed to get into the 70’s today. I even heard back from an agent requesting to look at my non-fiction proposal. I’d buy a lottery ticket except there’s nothing much more I could want.
(Wait…. Maybe I’m not awake yet. Eh, even if this is just a dream it’s a good one. To everyone else, happy Pi Day!)
(Kids saying goodbye to their dad before he drove off to Kentucky. What did I ever do to deserve this family? I am the luckiest person I know, and I will remind myself of that the next time the dog throws up on the carpet.)
UPDATE: The rest of my birthday was great. I watched my kids on their scooters, baked a cake, read a book…. And at my orchestra rehearsal tonight the group played ‘Happy Birthday’ for me and I almost cried. So far being 43 rocks.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Double Digits (Babble)
I have a kid who is ten. I’m having trouble settling my mind around
that idea. Ten years is such a substantial number. If you say you’re
going to put something off for ten years it sounds like it may as well
be a million. But now I can look back ten years and I’m still a mom
then. How crazy to think back that far to myself in my early thirties
with one tiny baby who somehow dominated all my time.
Aden was a great training baby, though. She was easy and healthy and sweet. We still had to deal with vomit and diapers and poop and spit up and sleepless nights and croup and weird rashes and teething and all the other things that go into life with a baby–I have not forgotten the endless work of new parenting and am not romanticizing it, but Aden was unusually patient for a baby. Whatever mistakes we made she was kind to us about. She looked at us trustingly with her beautiful blue eyes and forgave us with smiles as we tried to figure out what we were doing. She gave lovely little hugs that barely reached around part of my neck.
Now that tiny little baby comes up to my chin and jabbers on the phone with her friends and watches her little brother for short stretches if her dad and I both need to go out. It’s…. unbelievable sometimes.
Aden just hosted her first sleepover for her party. It went exceedingly well. Well enough that I won’t try to talk her out of another one. It helped that the girls were all on the first floor at the back of the house, and Ian and I sleep on the second floor in the front. Rumor has it they stayed up until 2, but I didn’t hear anything and all the girls took care of themselves just fine. It also helps that I genuinely like all of Aden’s friends. I was even impressed as we were making pizza and eating cake to discover that most of them were fans of Dr Who, liked the Marx Brothers, and the movie they put in to watch when the rest of us went to bed was The Princess Bride. (I was tempted to stay up and watch it with them, but I know I would have just brought down the mood by being unable to resist coming up with boring rules about where they could or could not spray their silly string.) We keep a mirror ball in our living room (what? you don’t?), so that got some use in a game of freeze dancing.
There was also a game Aden invented called ‘Clemen-toss’ that involved rolling clementines onto a target. (The rule in our house is yes, you may juggle the clementines, but you must then eat whatever you drop.)
I had trouble with the cake this time, though. I wanted to try something new and it wound up being a learning experience. Which is another way of saying a time consuming annoyance, but one I volunteered for so I can’t really complain. (Although at the time I got very whiny, and Aden was the mature one saying, “It doesn’t matter what it looks like, it will still taste good!”)
Aden didn’t have any ideas at first for her own cake, so I suggested we do a checkerboard cake, but with all different colors inside instead of just two. Sort of a rainbow checkerboard. The idea is you have three round layers, each with three concentric circles in them that when stacked the right way look like a checkerboard when you cut into the whole thing. I did that once for Aden when she was two back before there were kits for doing it, and I just piped the batter into the pans using a ziploc bag. I picked up an actual jig for making checkerboard cakes a while back and wanted to try it, and doing it in lots of colors sounded fun.
We just made some basic white cake from a box and added food coloring. But white cake is not as hearty as something like chocolate, and the top layer just fell apart when I put it on. Not good. I ended up scraping it off, along with the custard filling between the layers and had to send Ian out to the store for more cake mix. I remade the custard and the top layer, but you can see the failed bit on the table.
The original plan was to pour chocolate ganache over the whole thing, but it was all too lumpy and gappy to try that with, so I found a chocolate butter cream frosting recipe online to use instead. The frosting spread like a dream but tasted a little strong, and that particular recipe made a TON of frosting. (But I was glad I saved it because I had to make a last minute cake for Mona to take to class for a party.)
Frosting hides a lot of sins.
After I suggested the checkerboard cake, Aden came up with some concept of a sheet cake in the shape of a dragon, but not like her sister had last year. She wanted to draw a shape and cut it out, but she wanted the checkerboard thing too, even though I said that wouldn’t really work right that way. She ended up drawing a dragon with frosting onto the finished cake. (Which WordPress isn’t letting me download a photo of for some reason….)
Aden’s getting pretty good with her own baking and decorating skills. She made her own cupcakes to take to school this year. White cupcakes dipped in chocolate ganache, and then she made butter cream frosting and did all the decorating herself. I showed her how to use different piping tips and then she did it all on her own (with some help from Quinn in the chocolate quality control department).
Anyway, the checkerboard cake sort of worked. I think I know how to do it better next time with less grumbling and fewer trips to the store.
The kids all liked it and it tasted good, so that was all that really mattered. It was a tasty kind of experiment.
And did I mention my daughter is ten? Wow I love that girl. Best decade ever. Can’t wait to see what the next one holds in store.
Aden was a great training baby, though. She was easy and healthy and sweet. We still had to deal with vomit and diapers and poop and spit up and sleepless nights and croup and weird rashes and teething and all the other things that go into life with a baby–I have not forgotten the endless work of new parenting and am not romanticizing it, but Aden was unusually patient for a baby. Whatever mistakes we made she was kind to us about. She looked at us trustingly with her beautiful blue eyes and forgave us with smiles as we tried to figure out what we were doing. She gave lovely little hugs that barely reached around part of my neck.
Now that tiny little baby comes up to my chin and jabbers on the phone with her friends and watches her little brother for short stretches if her dad and I both need to go out. It’s…. unbelievable sometimes.
Aden just hosted her first sleepover for her party. It went exceedingly well. Well enough that I won’t try to talk her out of another one. It helped that the girls were all on the first floor at the back of the house, and Ian and I sleep on the second floor in the front. Rumor has it they stayed up until 2, but I didn’t hear anything and all the girls took care of themselves just fine. It also helps that I genuinely like all of Aden’s friends. I was even impressed as we were making pizza and eating cake to discover that most of them were fans of Dr Who, liked the Marx Brothers, and the movie they put in to watch when the rest of us went to bed was The Princess Bride. (I was tempted to stay up and watch it with them, but I know I would have just brought down the mood by being unable to resist coming up with boring rules about where they could or could not spray their silly string.) We keep a mirror ball in our living room (what? you don’t?), so that got some use in a game of freeze dancing.
There was also a game Aden invented called ‘Clemen-toss’ that involved rolling clementines onto a target. (The rule in our house is yes, you may juggle the clementines, but you must then eat whatever you drop.)
I had trouble with the cake this time, though. I wanted to try something new and it wound up being a learning experience. Which is another way of saying a time consuming annoyance, but one I volunteered for so I can’t really complain. (Although at the time I got very whiny, and Aden was the mature one saying, “It doesn’t matter what it looks like, it will still taste good!”)
Aden didn’t have any ideas at first for her own cake, so I suggested we do a checkerboard cake, but with all different colors inside instead of just two. Sort of a rainbow checkerboard. The idea is you have three round layers, each with three concentric circles in them that when stacked the right way look like a checkerboard when you cut into the whole thing. I did that once for Aden when she was two back before there were kits for doing it, and I just piped the batter into the pans using a ziploc bag. I picked up an actual jig for making checkerboard cakes a while back and wanted to try it, and doing it in lots of colors sounded fun.
We just made some basic white cake from a box and added food coloring. But white cake is not as hearty as something like chocolate, and the top layer just fell apart when I put it on. Not good. I ended up scraping it off, along with the custard filling between the layers and had to send Ian out to the store for more cake mix. I remade the custard and the top layer, but you can see the failed bit on the table.
The original plan was to pour chocolate ganache over the whole thing, but it was all too lumpy and gappy to try that with, so I found a chocolate butter cream frosting recipe online to use instead. The frosting spread like a dream but tasted a little strong, and that particular recipe made a TON of frosting. (But I was glad I saved it because I had to make a last minute cake for Mona to take to class for a party.)
Frosting hides a lot of sins.
After I suggested the checkerboard cake, Aden came up with some concept of a sheet cake in the shape of a dragon, but not like her sister had last year. She wanted to draw a shape and cut it out, but she wanted the checkerboard thing too, even though I said that wouldn’t really work right that way. She ended up drawing a dragon with frosting onto the finished cake. (Which WordPress isn’t letting me download a photo of for some reason….)
Aden’s getting pretty good with her own baking and decorating skills. She made her own cupcakes to take to school this year. White cupcakes dipped in chocolate ganache, and then she made butter cream frosting and did all the decorating herself. I showed her how to use different piping tips and then she did it all on her own (with some help from Quinn in the chocolate quality control department).
Anyway, the checkerboard cake sort of worked. I think I know how to do it better next time with less grumbling and fewer trips to the store.
The kids all liked it and it tasted good, so that was all that really mattered. It was a tasty kind of experiment.
And did I mention my daughter is ten? Wow I love that girl. Best decade ever. Can’t wait to see what the next one holds in store.
Monday, March 14, 2011
The Answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything (Babble)
Happy Birthday to me! I’m posting this at the end of a very long
day, so by the time anyone reads this I’ll be in belated birthday
status, but still, yay birthday!
Birthday flowers that Quinn picked out at the grocery store while I was at work today:
I have nice birthdays of the past to reflect upon (coming in 6th at a
Rubik’s cube competition on my golden birthday when I turned 14 comes
to mind, getting a whole crate of grapefruit from my grandpa once, and
parties with long dresses as a little girl when my dad used to conduct
an annual poise contest where my friends and I would walk around the
house with books on our heads–all good times). The birthdays when Ian
was deployed were the hardest. But the birthday that taught me the most
about perspective was back in college.
Nearly every Sunday during the five years I spent getting my bachelor’s degree at Ohio State, I would enjoy the day with my Grandma in a nearby suburb of Columbus. She would drive down to the campus and pick me up, and at her home I would do laundry, sometimes practice or study, but most of the time just hang out and play Spite and Malice and enjoy the wonderful dinner she would make. Grandma used to cook my favorite things and delicious desserts, and even have on hand a bowl of freshly washed grapes or other snack for when I walked in the door. I was always welcome to bring a friend, and when I met Ian he became a regular guest at Gram’s table on those Sunday afternoons. Sundays at Gram’s kept me grounded during my college days and they are some of my warmest memories.
One year in Columbus my birthday fell on a Sunday and I was depressed. I had to work in the morning and it made me grumpy. I sat behind the art counter at the local campus bookstore getting more irritated than usual at the people who couldn’t seem to read labels on products themselves. I was bored and feeling unappreciated. I wanted my birthday to be special. All we were planning was dinner at Gram’s, but we always ate dinner at Gram’s. How was that supposed to feel different from any other Sunday? How was that special?
I remember trudging home through slush after work and feeling sorry for myself. But as I walked I thought about it, and it hit me: My regular Sunday was better than the average person’s birthday. What more could I really ask for? A home cooked meal made with me in mind, sharing the day with people who love me, fun, maybe a nap, and clean laundry to take home wasn’t enough for me? The more I thought about it, the more ridiculous I felt that I had spent any time at all feeling anything but grateful. How obnoxious and stupid.
So I was happy when Grandma picked up Ian and me and I drove us back to her house.
And when I pushed the remote to open the garage door, there was my parents’ car inside. They had driven down just for the day. It was my first (and only) ever surprise party! My mom thought that seemed like a pretty lackluster means of being surprised by spotting their car first, but I assured her there was nothing second rate about it. I was thrilled. And then an hour later (because they are usually late to family events) my uncle and his family arrived, and it was like getting round two of a surprise party.
It was a wonderful party and I enjoyed it thoroughly, but I was glad that I had come around to appreciating the day before I realized people had gone to extra trouble. It’s too easy to become acclimated to good things. We often think of ourselves as becoming callused to harsh realities, but I think it happens both directions. When you never go hungry it’s hard to appreciate the miracle of being fed every day. I have a house, I have a job, I have my husband and kids all together…. Those things are hard to see clearly when you look at them all the time. We get desensitized to the good as well as the bad, and I try to be mindful of that.
Last night as I was shutting off the lights downstairs to go to bed I hesitated in the kitchen and wondered if I should make myself a cake. I wound up flipping through a binder of my Grandma’s recipes a came across her rice pudding. I loved her rice pudding. It’s complicated to make because it cooks for a long time on the stove, and when it moves to the oven in a casserole dish it rests in a pan of hot water, but it’s full of raisins and nutmeg and it’s delicious. I stayed up late and made a batch and helped myself to some for breakfast this morning. I miss my Grandma.
As far as birthdays go, this one was not action packed. I went to work and rehaired violin bows and straightened bridges and set up a new rental viola. When I got home Ian had started dinner and he took Aden to her violin lesson while I finished making the food and set the table. We ate one of those fast meals where we weren’t coordinated enough to have everyone at the table at the same time but that’s okay. I got to eat with everyone in turns. I got a couple of nice presents from Ian’s mom, a Valentine made by Quinn presented to me in crumpled paper, and look at these amazing watercolors my mom did of me when I was a baby!
My kids still use that ducky blanket in the first painting, and I own that green lamp now in the second one. Those were a pretty amazing birthday surprise. Aden made me a necklace and a beautiful card. Apparently she also made me a special breakfast a couple of hours after I left for work and was heartbroken that I wasn’t home to eat it. I told her tonight that I appreciated her thoughtfulness and that one day she would make a great mom. She looked very proud.
So today wasn’t out of the ordinary. Not even the gifts, really, because the kids make me things all the time and my mom doesn’t limit her kind presents to special occasions. Particularly after watching so much shocking footage of the tsunami in Japan over the past couple of days, it’s hard not to treasure the most ordinary of circumstances. I had a truly average birthday. I can’t think of anything more special.
Birthday flowers that Quinn picked out at the grocery store while I was at work today:
Nearly every Sunday during the five years I spent getting my bachelor’s degree at Ohio State, I would enjoy the day with my Grandma in a nearby suburb of Columbus. She would drive down to the campus and pick me up, and at her home I would do laundry, sometimes practice or study, but most of the time just hang out and play Spite and Malice and enjoy the wonderful dinner she would make. Grandma used to cook my favorite things and delicious desserts, and even have on hand a bowl of freshly washed grapes or other snack for when I walked in the door. I was always welcome to bring a friend, and when I met Ian he became a regular guest at Gram’s table on those Sunday afternoons. Sundays at Gram’s kept me grounded during my college days and they are some of my warmest memories.
One year in Columbus my birthday fell on a Sunday and I was depressed. I had to work in the morning and it made me grumpy. I sat behind the art counter at the local campus bookstore getting more irritated than usual at the people who couldn’t seem to read labels on products themselves. I was bored and feeling unappreciated. I wanted my birthday to be special. All we were planning was dinner at Gram’s, but we always ate dinner at Gram’s. How was that supposed to feel different from any other Sunday? How was that special?
I remember trudging home through slush after work and feeling sorry for myself. But as I walked I thought about it, and it hit me: My regular Sunday was better than the average person’s birthday. What more could I really ask for? A home cooked meal made with me in mind, sharing the day with people who love me, fun, maybe a nap, and clean laundry to take home wasn’t enough for me? The more I thought about it, the more ridiculous I felt that I had spent any time at all feeling anything but grateful. How obnoxious and stupid.
So I was happy when Grandma picked up Ian and me and I drove us back to her house.
And when I pushed the remote to open the garage door, there was my parents’ car inside. They had driven down just for the day. It was my first (and only) ever surprise party! My mom thought that seemed like a pretty lackluster means of being surprised by spotting their car first, but I assured her there was nothing second rate about it. I was thrilled. And then an hour later (because they are usually late to family events) my uncle and his family arrived, and it was like getting round two of a surprise party.
It was a wonderful party and I enjoyed it thoroughly, but I was glad that I had come around to appreciating the day before I realized people had gone to extra trouble. It’s too easy to become acclimated to good things. We often think of ourselves as becoming callused to harsh realities, but I think it happens both directions. When you never go hungry it’s hard to appreciate the miracle of being fed every day. I have a house, I have a job, I have my husband and kids all together…. Those things are hard to see clearly when you look at them all the time. We get desensitized to the good as well as the bad, and I try to be mindful of that.
Last night as I was shutting off the lights downstairs to go to bed I hesitated in the kitchen and wondered if I should make myself a cake. I wound up flipping through a binder of my Grandma’s recipes a came across her rice pudding. I loved her rice pudding. It’s complicated to make because it cooks for a long time on the stove, and when it moves to the oven in a casserole dish it rests in a pan of hot water, but it’s full of raisins and nutmeg and it’s delicious. I stayed up late and made a batch and helped myself to some for breakfast this morning. I miss my Grandma.
As far as birthdays go, this one was not action packed. I went to work and rehaired violin bows and straightened bridges and set up a new rental viola. When I got home Ian had started dinner and he took Aden to her violin lesson while I finished making the food and set the table. We ate one of those fast meals where we weren’t coordinated enough to have everyone at the table at the same time but that’s okay. I got to eat with everyone in turns. I got a couple of nice presents from Ian’s mom, a Valentine made by Quinn presented to me in crumpled paper, and look at these amazing watercolors my mom did of me when I was a baby!
My kids still use that ducky blanket in the first painting, and I own that green lamp now in the second one. Those were a pretty amazing birthday surprise. Aden made me a necklace and a beautiful card. Apparently she also made me a special breakfast a couple of hours after I left for work and was heartbroken that I wasn’t home to eat it. I told her tonight that I appreciated her thoughtfulness and that one day she would make a great mom. She looked very proud.
So today wasn’t out of the ordinary. Not even the gifts, really, because the kids make me things all the time and my mom doesn’t limit her kind presents to special occasions. Particularly after watching so much shocking footage of the tsunami in Japan over the past couple of days, it’s hard not to treasure the most ordinary of circumstances. I had a truly average birthday. I can’t think of anything more special.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Let them eat one last cake (Babble)
Aden’s recent birthday party went really well, but it occurred to me
as I was trying to fall asleep that night that it was almost a
disaster. By the skin of our teeth did it work out.
But first of all, this is what Aden looks like at nine. It is blowing my mind that she is nine already. I remember her as a tiny thing in the hospital, and my precious baby learning to walk and talk, and then run and dance and play with friends and become a big sister and go to school and oh my god now she’s nine.
For Aden’s cake this year she wanted a marble cake with chocolate ganache and cut strawberries in the middle layer, butter cream frosting, and pink fondant. I was new at most of that, but it came out okay. I made my own fondant which tasted pretty good, but my husband and I slipped a bit getting it onto the actual cake after I rolled it out, and I ended up making some pink icing to pipe all over the place to hide the seams and cracks. Aden was happy with it so that’s all that mattered. She put on all the little candy pearls and sprinkles and candles.
Anyway, the party crisis was this: I had Aden make her own invitations and be responsible for handing them out at school. Two nights before the party I asked her who was coming, and not only wasn’t she sure, but she said three of the invites never made it out of her backpack. It was after 8:30 in the evening, so I made her call the mom of each of the girls in question and ask if they were available for the party (which they were).
Now, initially Aden told me she wanted a small, quiet party, maybe even with her being able to serve hot cocoa from her tea set for fun. But she made about eight invitations, which with my three kids adds up to a lot of kids. The only guests who actually showed up for the party were the three I made her call.
The party was perfect. Three girls turned out to be the perfect number to have over. That made six kids gathered around the dining room table, and they made their own pizzas and while the pizzas baked the kids played Pin the Tail on the Donkey, and then a sort of makeshift two team version of Pictionary. (That game was adorable, because Quinn was the ‘hat’ that held the slips of paper telling people what to draw, and for some reason they couldn’t all sit back to watch the person drawing, they all kept jumping up to gather close to the easel.)
In any case, they all had a great time, they made great pizzas, they
were happy with the games, Aden got to serve cocoa in her little
teacups, the cake was fine, and Aden just smiled and smiled and
occasionally jumped up and down with sheer joy. It could not have been
nicer. Except that at the end of the day it finally hit me that if I
hadn’t made her call those friends a couple of nights before the party,
there would have been no one there. Can you imagine how tragic that
would have been for Aden to be waiting by the goody bags she put
together to hand out, standing among her carefully hung streamers and
balloons and have no one come? Agh! I’m not sure exactly what happened
to all the other invitations.
I know one of the kids who came to Mona’s party had simply put that invitation up on his fridge without mentioning it to his mom until the night before, and she panicked and gave me a call and I told her it was not too late to RSVP and of course he could come. I’m sure lots of Aden’s invitations will show up during winter break backpack cleanings. But as I say, it was a perfect little party and exactly what Aden wanted. I just can’t believe how close it came to being a really disappointing day instead. I think next year I will follow up on the guest list a little more closely.
I can’t believe I’ve been a mom for nine years. It’s gone by so fast and yet feels like forever.
I love my Aden.
But first of all, this is what Aden looks like at nine. It is blowing my mind that she is nine already. I remember her as a tiny thing in the hospital, and my precious baby learning to walk and talk, and then run and dance and play with friends and become a big sister and go to school and oh my god now she’s nine.
For Aden’s cake this year she wanted a marble cake with chocolate ganache and cut strawberries in the middle layer, butter cream frosting, and pink fondant. I was new at most of that, but it came out okay. I made my own fondant which tasted pretty good, but my husband and I slipped a bit getting it onto the actual cake after I rolled it out, and I ended up making some pink icing to pipe all over the place to hide the seams and cracks. Aden was happy with it so that’s all that mattered. She put on all the little candy pearls and sprinkles and candles.
Anyway, the party crisis was this: I had Aden make her own invitations and be responsible for handing them out at school. Two nights before the party I asked her who was coming, and not only wasn’t she sure, but she said three of the invites never made it out of her backpack. It was after 8:30 in the evening, so I made her call the mom of each of the girls in question and ask if they were available for the party (which they were).
Now, initially Aden told me she wanted a small, quiet party, maybe even with her being able to serve hot cocoa from her tea set for fun. But she made about eight invitations, which with my three kids adds up to a lot of kids. The only guests who actually showed up for the party were the three I made her call.
The party was perfect. Three girls turned out to be the perfect number to have over. That made six kids gathered around the dining room table, and they made their own pizzas and while the pizzas baked the kids played Pin the Tail on the Donkey, and then a sort of makeshift two team version of Pictionary. (That game was adorable, because Quinn was the ‘hat’ that held the slips of paper telling people what to draw, and for some reason they couldn’t all sit back to watch the person drawing, they all kept jumping up to gather close to the easel.)
I know one of the kids who came to Mona’s party had simply put that invitation up on his fridge without mentioning it to his mom until the night before, and she panicked and gave me a call and I told her it was not too late to RSVP and of course he could come. I’m sure lots of Aden’s invitations will show up during winter break backpack cleanings. But as I say, it was a perfect little party and exactly what Aden wanted. I just can’t believe how close it came to being a really disappointing day instead. I think next year I will follow up on the guest list a little more closely.
I can’t believe I’ve been a mom for nine years. It’s gone by so fast and yet feels like forever.
I love my Aden.
Friday, December 3, 2010
BIrthday Season in Full Swing (Babble)
January in Wisconsin is not usually a pretty month. It’s nice on the
days the snow is fresh and the wind chill isn’t at arctic levels, but
for the most part it’s cold and grey and cold and slushy and cold. But
right about now I find myself casting an eye at my new calendar with the
wistfulness of the weary. Almost nothing is happening in January. No
holidays, no birthdays in our immediate family, no big meals or gifts….
January looks blissfully simple. I can’t wait.
In the meantime, we are in the throes of birthday season again, and this year it’s particularly packed. From mid-November through the end of December we have Quinn’s birthday, Thanksgiving, Mona’s birthday, a memorial service in Ohio for my grandma, a trip to Michigan to see the last group show at my parents’ gallery, Aden’s birthday, Christmas, and New Year’s. Plus there’s a harvest play in there somewhere, a kids’ concert I’m supposed to be in, and a performance of the Messiah that I should be practicing for. I’m not sure when I’m supposed to find gifts for people or mail out cards, but somehow I will get it done. I hope (she said, while looking longingly at all the blank space on the January page of the new calendar).
Anyway, Quinn’s first real birthday party was a success. This year he got to make decisions about his cake and the activities and the guest list. Unfortunately the only good time to have his party was during the middle of the week because the weekends around it were all spoken for with book club and work and a choir concert. I thought it made the most sense to just have Quinn invite a couple of friends over right after half day school and have pizza and cake at the house and let them all play for an hour or two. But my daughters were so upset that I scheduled their brother’s party while the two of them were still in class that I ended up pulling them out at the half day pickup too. At first that seemed a little crazy to me, but I asked myself, what will they remember more? Their brother’s party or a couple of hours of self-directed Montessori education? Heck, it’s Montessori, so the party might even count as a life skills lesson, so win-win! (Yes, my powers of rationalization can be impressive.)
Quinn could not have been happier. He only stopped smiling long enough to blow out the candle on his cake.
(Good grief, my baby is four. FOUR! How does that happen? I swear it was only like a minute ago he looked like this:
(Which was awfully cute, too. But he’s even more fun now that he says things like, “Mom, I love you bigger than space!”)
Next we have Mona’s party coming up. Mona has already chosen prospective party locations for the next three or four years. Last year she really wanted it at Chuck E. Cheese’s, which with Ian deployed was great because I didn’t really have to do anything other than show up and pay for pizza. I’d do that every year it was so easy, but now that Mona has that out of her system it probably won’t happen again. This year she wanted a ‘Planet Bounce’ party, which was what a local gymnastics facility used to call its party plan complete with bouncy houses next to the trampoline floors and sponge pit. It’s now called something like ‘Bounce and Beyond’ but Mona is stubbornly sticking to ‘Planet Bounce.’
Whatever you call it, it’s simple, the kids love it, and my only duty is to take care of the food. I asked Mona last night what she wants to serve and she said fruits and vegetables. She suggested celery and then added that she won’t eat any of it. So I told her to pick things she herself would actually eat, and we came up with: bananas, carrots, apples, and string cheese. We may also do some kind of mini sandwich to order deal, where we bring little rolls and peanut butter and jelly and ham and cheese, etc., for those who want some.
The big deal for this party is the cake, which Mona wanted to look like a light purple dragon with silver and gold bits to it. She drew me a picture to help me out, and we went online and looked at other dragon cakes people have come up with to give me some direction. I knew I could make a dragon cake, I just didn’t want to spend hours accidentally making the wrong one. Maybe I was feeling overconfident because my kids and I watch a lot of Cake Boss and it just seems like with enough fondant anything is possible, but I think I did okay. Mona made the wings herself out of paper and put on all the Hershey’s Kisses and sprinkles. I used a devil’s food cake recipe from my mom, and I found recipes for fondant, butter cream frosting, and modeling chocolate online. Creative cakes make me happy, so that’s my favorite part of Birthday Season. I honestly think if I couldn’t make violins, I would be happy designing cool cakes.
By the way, modeling chocolate? My new favorite thing. It’s just 10 oz of chocolate melted and mixed with 1/2 cup of light corn syrup. It feels like clay but you can eat it. (Aden said it tasted just like a Tootsie Roll.) When it gets too hard you just zap it in the microwave for a few seconds and it’s pliable again. I used white chocolate so I could mix it with food coloring, and I’m thinking that chocolate sculpting could be a fun craft activity next rainy day that I have a bunch of extra kids in the house. And little chocolate sculptures made by the kids would be really cute presents or decorations on cupcakes….
The plans for Aden’s party next week are a little undefined at the moment. She wants something at home and quiet. She wants a simple cake and she’s going to help decorate it. I’m a little concerned because her ideas for activities can get intricate and then other kids get bored. At Quinn’s party she ran a game called ‘Pin the Topping on the Pizza’ and it was way too complicated for four-year-olds. I salvaged the game by simply holding children upside down and challenging them to tape the paper topping to their name on the slice of pizza while wiggling them around and making everyone laugh, but it was not the game Aden had envisioned. Aden was good about letting go of her original idea, though, which is new.
In fact, you seldom get to pinpoint certain attitude changes in children, but this one I think I can. The night before Quinn’s party we were putting up streamers by the reflected light of our disco ball and having fun, but something about it didn’t happen the way Aden had pictured it. She went off to her bed to sulk while Quinn and Mona danced in the living room and told their dad where to tape balloons. I went upstairs to talk with Aden. I reminded her that the party wasn’t about her. It was about what made her brother happy because it was his day. If however the streamers got put up made him happy, it was right, and she needed to let it go because she was missing the point.
About an hour later when she had joined us again and was putting up more decorations with her siblings, I was listening from another room and heard Mona starting to get picky about something when Aden stopped her. She said evenly, “Mona, this is Quinn’s day. However he wants it is okay and we don’t get to decide.” It was so gratifying to know she actually heard what I said and took it to heart! Too bad it’s so rare that that moment stands out, but I’ll take it.
In any case, for her own party she was thinking about board games or something along those lines. I’m thinking a Pictionary event with teams might work if I can talk her into it. She’s having trouble accepting that some of the party games and activities we did when she was little might not work as well for third graders. I don’t know if her friends are interested in Pin the Tail on the Donkey anymore. We have time to figure something out. We’re going to have everyone make their own mini pizzas, so that will be fun. (And, SSHHH, don’t tell her, but I’m thinking for her present of getting her a pair of roller skates.)
I supposed there’s something to be said for getting all the presents and parties and baking done in one fell swoop at the end of each year, but I see other people planning birthday parties in the spring or summer and I’m always a little jealous. It must be nice not to have all the birthdays smushed together in the winter along with Thanksgiving and Christmas. But we got what we got and it’s the smallest imaginable price to pay considering all we have. I am too lucky for words.
Now excuse me while I go off to do about a million other things (while I dream of January and quiet and a cup of cocoa)….
In the meantime, we are in the throes of birthday season again, and this year it’s particularly packed. From mid-November through the end of December we have Quinn’s birthday, Thanksgiving, Mona’s birthday, a memorial service in Ohio for my grandma, a trip to Michigan to see the last group show at my parents’ gallery, Aden’s birthday, Christmas, and New Year’s. Plus there’s a harvest play in there somewhere, a kids’ concert I’m supposed to be in, and a performance of the Messiah that I should be practicing for. I’m not sure when I’m supposed to find gifts for people or mail out cards, but somehow I will get it done. I hope (she said, while looking longingly at all the blank space on the January page of the new calendar).
Anyway, Quinn’s first real birthday party was a success. This year he got to make decisions about his cake and the activities and the guest list. Unfortunately the only good time to have his party was during the middle of the week because the weekends around it were all spoken for with book club and work and a choir concert. I thought it made the most sense to just have Quinn invite a couple of friends over right after half day school and have pizza and cake at the house and let them all play for an hour or two. But my daughters were so upset that I scheduled their brother’s party while the two of them were still in class that I ended up pulling them out at the half day pickup too. At first that seemed a little crazy to me, but I asked myself, what will they remember more? Their brother’s party or a couple of hours of self-directed Montessori education? Heck, it’s Montessori, so the party might even count as a life skills lesson, so win-win! (Yes, my powers of rationalization can be impressive.)
Quinn could not have been happier. He only stopped smiling long enough to blow out the candle on his cake.
(Good grief, my baby is four. FOUR! How does that happen? I swear it was only like a minute ago he looked like this:
(Which was awfully cute, too. But he’s even more fun now that he says things like, “Mom, I love you bigger than space!”)
Next we have Mona’s party coming up. Mona has already chosen prospective party locations for the next three or four years. Last year she really wanted it at Chuck E. Cheese’s, which with Ian deployed was great because I didn’t really have to do anything other than show up and pay for pizza. I’d do that every year it was so easy, but now that Mona has that out of her system it probably won’t happen again. This year she wanted a ‘Planet Bounce’ party, which was what a local gymnastics facility used to call its party plan complete with bouncy houses next to the trampoline floors and sponge pit. It’s now called something like ‘Bounce and Beyond’ but Mona is stubbornly sticking to ‘Planet Bounce.’
Whatever you call it, it’s simple, the kids love it, and my only duty is to take care of the food. I asked Mona last night what she wants to serve and she said fruits and vegetables. She suggested celery and then added that she won’t eat any of it. So I told her to pick things she herself would actually eat, and we came up with: bananas, carrots, apples, and string cheese. We may also do some kind of mini sandwich to order deal, where we bring little rolls and peanut butter and jelly and ham and cheese, etc., for those who want some.
The big deal for this party is the cake, which Mona wanted to look like a light purple dragon with silver and gold bits to it. She drew me a picture to help me out, and we went online and looked at other dragon cakes people have come up with to give me some direction. I knew I could make a dragon cake, I just didn’t want to spend hours accidentally making the wrong one. Maybe I was feeling overconfident because my kids and I watch a lot of Cake Boss and it just seems like with enough fondant anything is possible, but I think I did okay. Mona made the wings herself out of paper and put on all the Hershey’s Kisses and sprinkles. I used a devil’s food cake recipe from my mom, and I found recipes for fondant, butter cream frosting, and modeling chocolate online. Creative cakes make me happy, so that’s my favorite part of Birthday Season. I honestly think if I couldn’t make violins, I would be happy designing cool cakes.
By the way, modeling chocolate? My new favorite thing. It’s just 10 oz of chocolate melted and mixed with 1/2 cup of light corn syrup. It feels like clay but you can eat it. (Aden said it tasted just like a Tootsie Roll.) When it gets too hard you just zap it in the microwave for a few seconds and it’s pliable again. I used white chocolate so I could mix it with food coloring, and I’m thinking that chocolate sculpting could be a fun craft activity next rainy day that I have a bunch of extra kids in the house. And little chocolate sculptures made by the kids would be really cute presents or decorations on cupcakes….
The plans for Aden’s party next week are a little undefined at the moment. She wants something at home and quiet. She wants a simple cake and she’s going to help decorate it. I’m a little concerned because her ideas for activities can get intricate and then other kids get bored. At Quinn’s party she ran a game called ‘Pin the Topping on the Pizza’ and it was way too complicated for four-year-olds. I salvaged the game by simply holding children upside down and challenging them to tape the paper topping to their name on the slice of pizza while wiggling them around and making everyone laugh, but it was not the game Aden had envisioned. Aden was good about letting go of her original idea, though, which is new.
In fact, you seldom get to pinpoint certain attitude changes in children, but this one I think I can. The night before Quinn’s party we were putting up streamers by the reflected light of our disco ball and having fun, but something about it didn’t happen the way Aden had pictured it. She went off to her bed to sulk while Quinn and Mona danced in the living room and told their dad where to tape balloons. I went upstairs to talk with Aden. I reminded her that the party wasn’t about her. It was about what made her brother happy because it was his day. If however the streamers got put up made him happy, it was right, and she needed to let it go because she was missing the point.
About an hour later when she had joined us again and was putting up more decorations with her siblings, I was listening from another room and heard Mona starting to get picky about something when Aden stopped her. She said evenly, “Mona, this is Quinn’s day. However he wants it is okay and we don’t get to decide.” It was so gratifying to know she actually heard what I said and took it to heart! Too bad it’s so rare that that moment stands out, but I’ll take it.
In any case, for her own party she was thinking about board games or something along those lines. I’m thinking a Pictionary event with teams might work if I can talk her into it. She’s having trouble accepting that some of the party games and activities we did when she was little might not work as well for third graders. I don’t know if her friends are interested in Pin the Tail on the Donkey anymore. We have time to figure something out. We’re going to have everyone make their own mini pizzas, so that will be fun. (And, SSHHH, don’t tell her, but I’m thinking for her present of getting her a pair of roller skates.)
I supposed there’s something to be said for getting all the presents and parties and baking done in one fell swoop at the end of each year, but I see other people planning birthday parties in the spring or summer and I’m always a little jealous. It must be nice not to have all the birthdays smushed together in the winter along with Thanksgiving and Christmas. But we got what we got and it’s the smallest imaginable price to pay considering all we have. I am too lucky for words.
Now excuse me while I go off to do about a million other things (while I dream of January and quiet and a cup of cocoa)….
Sunday, March 14, 2010
My Mom Is Awesome (Babble)
Today was my birthday. It wasn’t stacking up well against other
birthdays. I miss Ian. My kids were bickering enough to get on my
nerves. The line at the grocery store was really long to pay for food
to make my own birthday dinner that I knew the kids wouldn’t even eat,
and everything was just too ordinary to feel like a real birthday.
But my mom drove all the way from Detroit and sat through boring Chicago traffic jams just to get to me and bring me a homemade cake. She loved the dinner I made. She helped bathe the kids. She’s going to help me organize my new kitchen tomorrow, and move a bookcase with me, and roll up her sleeves and dive into any other project I point to.
I was sitting here before going to sleep, thinking about how she made my birthday, when I remembered she made ME. My birthday is just as much her day as it is mine. I can’t believe I got to share today with my mom. I’m the luckiest person I know. What a great day.
But my mom drove all the way from Detroit and sat through boring Chicago traffic jams just to get to me and bring me a homemade cake. She loved the dinner I made. She helped bathe the kids. She’s going to help me organize my new kitchen tomorrow, and move a bookcase with me, and roll up her sleeves and dive into any other project I point to.
I was sitting here before going to sleep, thinking about how she made my birthday, when I remembered she made ME. My birthday is just as much her day as it is mine. I can’t believe I got to share today with my mom. I’m the luckiest person I know. What a great day.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Looking Back on Yesterday (Babble)
I’m in my room listening to my kids downstairs in the kitchen. They
told me not to come down to make waffles yet because they are making a
clam out of tin foil. It must be a pretty funny clam because there is a
lot of giggling going on. And a lot of squeaking. (There is always a
lot of squeaking.) Seems like a good moment for me to reflect on the
ups and downs of yesterday. Yesterday was hard.
When your husband is in a war zone you don’t feel entitled to bad days. Any whining sounds petty, even in my own ears, even if I’m the one struggling. It doesn’t matter if the balance tips on a day like yesterday where there were so many annoyances that it took effort to look for positives. People still think (and sometimes say to me), “Well, at least you’re not the one in Iraq.” Yes, I know, I am lucky that nothing I go through here measures up. That doesn’t change the fact that my reality still reduces me to tears on days like yesterday, but I just get to feel undeserving of them. I end up feeling bad about feeling bad.
Yesterday wasn’t terrible. It would be easy to put a funny spin on a lot of it after the fact, but I’ll just do the blow by blow.
The kids were off school, which automatically makes for a longer day. We still had to get up early because the girls both had doctor’s appointments. Mona just finished ten days of medicine for strep throat and was still in pain, and Aden has been coughing enough that the school nurse has been calling me. They both act healthy and fine and go about their running and playing so it’s hard to know when they need medical attention sometimes, but I figured the day off school was my perfect opportunity to see a regular doctor and not end up in the weekend urgent care we’ve been frequenting. (My kids only have need of medical attention on weekends or at night, but that’s a whole different post.)
Keeping three kids entertained at the doctor isn’t easy. They always end up touching the floor which makes me crazy, and yesterday they just could not sit still. Aden kept running water at the little sink and Mona and Quinn fought over the spinning stool and they all want me to help make them balloons out of rubber gloves. On the up side, with an early morning appointment the wait wasn’t too long and the doctor concluded that Mona needs stronger medicine and Aden needs to be nebulized three times a day. (Mona also has a medical mystery on the backs of her hands, but that’s also a whole different post.)
(I hear cereal being poured downstairs. Mona was just here and she is a terrible liar. I asked her just now if they were making me breakfast in bed to cheer me up and she looked alarmed and said, “We’re just doing a secret something for someone. You don’t need to come down and make breakfast. How about I snuggle with you!” I told her she could go back down and she ran off saying, “WHEW!” Two sets of people are coming to look at our house this morning so I’m not looking forward to seeing how much I have to clean the kitchen before we head out today. Anyway….)
After the doctor we went straight to Target to pick up prescriptions and then I had an eye appointment. I’ve been noticing a difference between my left and right eyes when I focus on things close up. The eye exam with three bored kids along was really frustrating, and the doctor said I should have had glasses years ago. He made me sound blind as a bat, which is just not true and was not pleasant news the weekend of my birthday.
(Awww…. So the kids just came up with my ‘tray’ which was the lid from a plastic box. Rice Krispies with way too much milk, toast with sides of butter and jam but no knife, and sliced up bananas. Mona helped me eat the bananas and the toast, Quinn helped me eat the cereal. They are making it hard to complain about them from yesterday. Aden made me an oyster from tin foil wrapped in scotch tape with a little cup like area to hold a necklace I love with a single pearl on it. It looks like the oyster is open and showing off the pearl. I was worried at first that Aden had taped my necklace into the whole display, but the chain just piles inside the cup and the pearl sits on top. I asked if this was for my birthday tomorrow but they said they have something else planned for that. This was a “We’re sorry we don’t listen the first time” breakfast treat.)
A nice woman helped me pick out frames. She observed the circus act I travel with and handed me a pair of glasses saying, “These are very durable.” I ordered a pair and put them on for Mona, who winced and said, “You look horrible!” Another customer nearby assured me they looked fine, but sheesh. It will be hard enough adjusting to glasses without knowing my kids hate them.
After Target we couldn’t go straight home because since our current house went on the market last weekend we’ve had people going in and out every day, and someone was supposedly there right then. We went to the new house where I tried to get a bookshelf assembled but had to abandon that project because the kids couldn’t get along. When the coast was clear we crossed the street to the old house.
I gave Mona her new medicine which caused her to vomit everywhere. Aden had to be prompted several times to nebulize. I cleaned up the house again for the next viewing and we headed to the violin store where I had several appointments lined up. I had to pump up one of the tires on the car. We stopped at Subway to pick up something for lunch, and when we got to the violin store I discovered that somewhere in our meager travels both Aden and Quinn had stepped in a ton of dog poop and tracked it all over the car. Not just the floors but the backs of the seats, and they leave so much stuff on the floor that their coats are now all in the wash, and the changes of clothes I bring along in case of disaster were all dirty, and the car seats…. It was just such a stupid waste of time when I don’t have any time to spare.
I had them leave the poopy things in a heap on the sidewalk and go inside to eat. I scrubbed the car and put everything that needed washing into a garbage bag. I left several messages for the doctor to figure out what to do about Mona. I tried to get some work done on a cello bridge that I’m behind on, worked with customers, answered calls, and then nagged the kids about picking up their messes. My store used to be a kind of sanctuary of order and neatness, but now that the kids are along all the time it looks like someone forgot to clear a daycare center out of the violin shop before I moved in.
I worked as long as I could before the kids made that impossible, but we couldn’t go home because the house was being viewed again. We went to Leon’s instead. Leon’s is a frozen custard stand that is open all winter long. It’s the kind of place that reminds you why the show Happy Days was set in Milwaukee. There is always a line at Leon’s no matter how cold it is here, the custard is just that good. An ice cream break is always a good thing, and between that and the kids singing together my mood improved.
I did laundry. I made a dinner no one came down to eat until it was cold because I didn’t feel like repeating myself or yelling anymore. (Quinn was so wiped out he slept through dinner and movie night. No wonder he ate all my cereal this morning.) I did dishes and helped with violin practice and we watched ‘Ponyo’ for Friday Night Movie Night. I liked the end of the day snuggle.
See, it doesn’t sound like a terrible day at all, does it? Just a busy day with kids. But the stress of keeping the current house unnaturally clean all the time and constantly breaking up noisy squabbles and always feeling behind on everything wears me down some days.
And all of it reminds me I miss my husband. When I just need a little extra hand at unexpected moments, or when I go to bed upset with no one to talk to and put things in perspective, I get angry at him for not being here. And then, of course, I feel like I have no right to be angry. Because he’s the noble one at war and I’m just supposed to be thankful that I am here and we’re safe and relatively healthy. I’m supposed to be better than I am.
Deployment adds a thin layer of guilt and sadness to many things I do. It colors every day in a way that isn’t easy to see or describe, but it’s there. It keeps tears closer to the surface than they would otherwise be. I get upset more easily, so days like yesterday hit me harder than they should.
But hey, today started with breakfast in bed and an oyster to put on my nightstand. My kids are trying to help and that means the world to me. Now I have to go clean everything up for the next house viewing and take everyone to work with me again. We may need a nother trip to Leon’s.
When your husband is in a war zone you don’t feel entitled to bad days. Any whining sounds petty, even in my own ears, even if I’m the one struggling. It doesn’t matter if the balance tips on a day like yesterday where there were so many annoyances that it took effort to look for positives. People still think (and sometimes say to me), “Well, at least you’re not the one in Iraq.” Yes, I know, I am lucky that nothing I go through here measures up. That doesn’t change the fact that my reality still reduces me to tears on days like yesterday, but I just get to feel undeserving of them. I end up feeling bad about feeling bad.
Yesterday wasn’t terrible. It would be easy to put a funny spin on a lot of it after the fact, but I’ll just do the blow by blow.
The kids were off school, which automatically makes for a longer day. We still had to get up early because the girls both had doctor’s appointments. Mona just finished ten days of medicine for strep throat and was still in pain, and Aden has been coughing enough that the school nurse has been calling me. They both act healthy and fine and go about their running and playing so it’s hard to know when they need medical attention sometimes, but I figured the day off school was my perfect opportunity to see a regular doctor and not end up in the weekend urgent care we’ve been frequenting. (My kids only have need of medical attention on weekends or at night, but that’s a whole different post.)
Keeping three kids entertained at the doctor isn’t easy. They always end up touching the floor which makes me crazy, and yesterday they just could not sit still. Aden kept running water at the little sink and Mona and Quinn fought over the spinning stool and they all want me to help make them balloons out of rubber gloves. On the up side, with an early morning appointment the wait wasn’t too long and the doctor concluded that Mona needs stronger medicine and Aden needs to be nebulized three times a day. (Mona also has a medical mystery on the backs of her hands, but that’s also a whole different post.)
(I hear cereal being poured downstairs. Mona was just here and she is a terrible liar. I asked her just now if they were making me breakfast in bed to cheer me up and she looked alarmed and said, “We’re just doing a secret something for someone. You don’t need to come down and make breakfast. How about I snuggle with you!” I told her she could go back down and she ran off saying, “WHEW!” Two sets of people are coming to look at our house this morning so I’m not looking forward to seeing how much I have to clean the kitchen before we head out today. Anyway….)
After the doctor we went straight to Target to pick up prescriptions and then I had an eye appointment. I’ve been noticing a difference between my left and right eyes when I focus on things close up. The eye exam with three bored kids along was really frustrating, and the doctor said I should have had glasses years ago. He made me sound blind as a bat, which is just not true and was not pleasant news the weekend of my birthday.
(Awww…. So the kids just came up with my ‘tray’ which was the lid from a plastic box. Rice Krispies with way too much milk, toast with sides of butter and jam but no knife, and sliced up bananas. Mona helped me eat the bananas and the toast, Quinn helped me eat the cereal. They are making it hard to complain about them from yesterday. Aden made me an oyster from tin foil wrapped in scotch tape with a little cup like area to hold a necklace I love with a single pearl on it. It looks like the oyster is open and showing off the pearl. I was worried at first that Aden had taped my necklace into the whole display, but the chain just piles inside the cup and the pearl sits on top. I asked if this was for my birthday tomorrow but they said they have something else planned for that. This was a “We’re sorry we don’t listen the first time” breakfast treat.)
A nice woman helped me pick out frames. She observed the circus act I travel with and handed me a pair of glasses saying, “These are very durable.” I ordered a pair and put them on for Mona, who winced and said, “You look horrible!” Another customer nearby assured me they looked fine, but sheesh. It will be hard enough adjusting to glasses without knowing my kids hate them.
After Target we couldn’t go straight home because since our current house went on the market last weekend we’ve had people going in and out every day, and someone was supposedly there right then. We went to the new house where I tried to get a bookshelf assembled but had to abandon that project because the kids couldn’t get along. When the coast was clear we crossed the street to the old house.
I gave Mona her new medicine which caused her to vomit everywhere. Aden had to be prompted several times to nebulize. I cleaned up the house again for the next viewing and we headed to the violin store where I had several appointments lined up. I had to pump up one of the tires on the car. We stopped at Subway to pick up something for lunch, and when we got to the violin store I discovered that somewhere in our meager travels both Aden and Quinn had stepped in a ton of dog poop and tracked it all over the car. Not just the floors but the backs of the seats, and they leave so much stuff on the floor that their coats are now all in the wash, and the changes of clothes I bring along in case of disaster were all dirty, and the car seats…. It was just such a stupid waste of time when I don’t have any time to spare.
I had them leave the poopy things in a heap on the sidewalk and go inside to eat. I scrubbed the car and put everything that needed washing into a garbage bag. I left several messages for the doctor to figure out what to do about Mona. I tried to get some work done on a cello bridge that I’m behind on, worked with customers, answered calls, and then nagged the kids about picking up their messes. My store used to be a kind of sanctuary of order and neatness, but now that the kids are along all the time it looks like someone forgot to clear a daycare center out of the violin shop before I moved in.
I worked as long as I could before the kids made that impossible, but we couldn’t go home because the house was being viewed again. We went to Leon’s instead. Leon’s is a frozen custard stand that is open all winter long. It’s the kind of place that reminds you why the show Happy Days was set in Milwaukee. There is always a line at Leon’s no matter how cold it is here, the custard is just that good. An ice cream break is always a good thing, and between that and the kids singing together my mood improved.
I did laundry. I made a dinner no one came down to eat until it was cold because I didn’t feel like repeating myself or yelling anymore. (Quinn was so wiped out he slept through dinner and movie night. No wonder he ate all my cereal this morning.) I did dishes and helped with violin practice and we watched ‘Ponyo’ for Friday Night Movie Night. I liked the end of the day snuggle.
See, it doesn’t sound like a terrible day at all, does it? Just a busy day with kids. But the stress of keeping the current house unnaturally clean all the time and constantly breaking up noisy squabbles and always feeling behind on everything wears me down some days.
And all of it reminds me I miss my husband. When I just need a little extra hand at unexpected moments, or when I go to bed upset with no one to talk to and put things in perspective, I get angry at him for not being here. And then, of course, I feel like I have no right to be angry. Because he’s the noble one at war and I’m just supposed to be thankful that I am here and we’re safe and relatively healthy. I’m supposed to be better than I am.
Deployment adds a thin layer of guilt and sadness to many things I do. It colors every day in a way that isn’t easy to see or describe, but it’s there. It keeps tears closer to the surface than they would otherwise be. I get upset more easily, so days like yesterday hit me harder than they should.
But hey, today started with breakfast in bed and an oyster to put on my nightstand. My kids are trying to help and that means the world to me. Now I have to go clean everything up for the next house viewing and take everyone to work with me again. We may need a nother trip to Leon’s.
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