Spring Snow Day Number Two

Today was Day Two of our Spring Snow Spectacle.  School was canceled again.  My choir's Lenten concert at church was also canceled.  I could have been annoyed or depressed, but instead I chose to take the "Whee-Monster" out on the sled and pull her around the neighborhood.  She did not disappoint and cried out "Whee!  Whee!  Whee!!" all the way home.

Her glee was so contagious that we all had to take turns running with her en tow.

That was the only sane thing I did today since shortly after our jog through the snow, I thought I should take all three girls bathing suit and shoe shopping.  Lord help me!  Bathing suit shopping after you've had three children is depressing enough WITHOUT having those three children in the dressing room with you as you attempt to squeeze your stretch marks into some horrible piece of floral lycra.  Lili dumped goldfish crackers all over the floor, pulled everything out of my wallet and made several great escapes under the dressing room door while I was in my underwear.  Sophie and Emma helpfully giggled and regarded my cellulite with great skepticism throughout this process.  Then Sophia found my camera hidden somewhere in the depths of my giant purse and began a Cover Girl photo shoot with Emma whilst Lili pulled off her socks and shoes and rolled around on the floor.  I am pretty sure I have deleted all of the photos that included images of my half-nude pale body partially stuffed into a tankini.  Here is one of the few survivors...

To answer your question... no, I didn't buy a bathing suit.  I gave up and we headed for the shoe department where entirely new mountains of drama erupted.  By the time we were finished three-fourths of us had new summer sandals, and Emma learned an important lesson about not settling for whatever happens to be available.  Then we took our little boxes of sandals and trudged through the snow and slush back out to our car.  I love spring in Michigan.

Healthy Mama's Waffles

What can I say?  Today is the third day of spring and we have about six inches of snow on the ground.  The children in this family are also getting over Strep throat, a wicked ear infection and some sort of virus that requires the afflicted to sleep on her mother's face and cough all night long.  I would seriously be losing my stuff if we didn't have a sunny holiday planned for the near future.  All of that being said, a snow day is still fun and a little bit magical, and I am almost annoyed to admit that it really is beautiful out there.  As Sophia said this morning, "Mom!  You have to come out and see this!  It's so crystal white!"

A snow day also means that you must have something nice for breakfast.  On school mornings there typically isn't time for bacon and eggs or Granny's famous homemade coffee cake, but on a snow day, there is nothing but time.  Today this mama made waffles with a healthy twist.

Choose a whole grain pancake mix and add a scoop of protein powder.  Prepare as directed for waffles,and feel a little bit self-righteous.  This is way healthier than Bisquick.

My little buddy also helped me sautee a couple of bananas in a bit of butter with cinnamon and and a titch of brown sugar.  We also heated some fresh blueberries in the microwave with a little squidge of agave nectar.  My measurements are not an exact science.  

When was the last time YOUR breakfast made you feel so happy that you busted out a goofy pose like this?  I added a small dollop of whipped cream, and NOBODY missed that high fructose corn syrup that Aunt Jemima is peddling these days.

Happy Spring!

Our Belated St. Patrick's Feast

Since we all were at church on Thursday evening, we were a little late in celebrating St. Pat's Day at home, and we just HAD to celebrate at home since, for some reason, the United Methodists don't serve Guinness at  youth group gatherings in the fellowship hall.  Our little celebration tonight also gave Lili a chance to dress up in her fab new green t-shirt again and gave the rest of us a chance to eat lots of good food.

First a little leprechaun visited our kitchen table and delivered a rainbow fruit salad and dropped a few of his gold pieces.  That cheeky little blighter also poured a whole pint of lager into my Irish stew as it simmered on the stove, but none of us minded that a bit.

Cheers! Bless your little Irish heart and every other Irish part.

Of course Lili remembered last year's first and only taste of Guinness, and she decided to have another go.  Her brilliant mum did not discourage her.

Don't the old hatch, Babe.*

And finally, Sophie and Emma were most excited about our dessert, a Lucky Leprechaun Sundae: rainbow sherbet with whipped cream and a cherry on top and a little leprechaun's treasure tucked in for good measure.

We hope you had a lovely St. Patrick's Day wherever you are.  We are especially missing our UK mates as we celebrate.  "May your blessings outnumber the shamrocks that grow, and may trouble avoid you wherever you go."

*No babies were harmed or fed alcoholic beverages in the course of these celebrations, just so's you know.

Mama Doesn't Blog Like She Used To...

Here is a photo of the number one reason that I do not write as much as I would like.  I  have this precocious little helper.  She is ready to start her own blog since she is familiar with the workings of a PC and she is all full of self-awareness.  Allow me to 'splain and digress...  Earlier this week, Sophia and I almost lost our minds with excitement since, while reading a story called Peekaboo Park, our Lili identified herself by name for the first time.  Allow me to digress again.  Peekaboo Park is one of our favorite stories for several reasons:

• It is a very short story, and therefore, perfect for someone with the attention span of a gnat or a toddler. 
• Page two's lift-the-flap reveals "A Buzzing Bee," and gives Lili a chance to perform her first-class impression of a bee who zooms around buzzing, "Wee wee wee wee wee..." 
• The other flaps offer pleasant opportunities for quacking and ribbiting when lifted; always a good thing. 
• The final flap reveals a mirror and a "happy baby" who always proves to be a completely hilarious character.  

So earlier this week, when we read it and arrived at that final lift-the-flap, Lili jabbed a pudgy little finger at her reflection in the mirror and cooed, "LILI!!"  Her mother and sister, who were enjoying story time as much as she was, almost leaped out of the story chair and squealed with delighted surprise.  To be honest, I think we may have freaked her out a little.  Our wee lass knows her name, and I suppose she should since it is likely the most common word spoken at our house.... even though there are all of those times I get confused and call her "Sophie."  (I am slowly but surely turning into my grandmother, Gladys.)

So... back to my original point... I know that there will never be perfect writing conditions, but this month seems to have been particularly hairy.  We've had lots of sleepless nights, snotty noses and unsettled tummies.   Additionally I now apparently have to compete with this little leprechaun for the use of my computer.  Anytime that I write during Lili's waking hours (which happens to be MOST of the hours in the day), I know that something naughty is happening in another room.  Perhaps all of Emma's underpants have been pulled out of her drawer, or maybe Sophia's cache of Valentine candy has been compromised, but if I don't have her directly in my sights, I know that girl is up to some sort of mischief.  Writing can be a precarious business.  At this very moment, Boo Bear has just wandered out of the office and into her sister's bedroom with a rascally gleam in her eye.  I had better dash.

Yikes!  Was that the sound of an entire box of Legos being dumped in the toilet?

The Journal

I have this daughter who challenges me on a daily basis.  She sometimes shows me things about myself that I do not like.  She stretches me and makes me grow as a person.  She also makes me mad, makes me laugh, and makes me think.  Wasn't life easier when she just needed some milk and a nap?  I do love that girl, but we have our struggles.  Sometimes I am not perfect.  Sometimes I do not say the right words.  Should I simply overlook it when she wants to leave my house for school with a ponytail sprouting from her forehead like a unicorn horn while wearing her Dad's Panama Jack tank top from 1989 over a pair of tight sweatpants and snowboots?  Often I long for a rewind button; I know that some of our exchanges could  be infused with a little more motherly love and understanding, but truly she cannot leave the house like that, right?  Enter the journal...

The journal was Miss Smarty-Face's idea, and when she suggested it, I was immediately on board!  As you can see, she chose a design that fits her personality to a T: multi-colored skulls and cross bones and hearts.  That's my girl.  Emma thought it would be cool if we had a journal through which we could send letters back and forth to each other.  Isn't she clever?  Often we write about trite silliness.  We write about what we like for breakfast or why we're looking forward to the weekend.  Sometimes we get a little more serious though.  In her journal Emma is allowed and encouraged to write things like, "It really hurt my feelings when..." or "When you were my age did you sometimes..."

And I get to write back... after everyone is in bed, and the house is quiet, and I am not feeling stressed about getting her (sensibly dressed) out the door to tuba lessons.  I get to read and "listen" to how she's feeling and respond to her "wonderings".  Sometimes it's hard to feel special when you are one of three girls.  It's easy to feel like mom doesn't have enough time when you need her or that she expects you to just look after yourself since you are nearly nine years old and all... But our journal is one very special thing that is only for me and Emma, and I am so proud of the fact that she was the one who prescribed it as good medication for our sometimes rocky relationship.  Our journal is a great way of making sure nothing important is left unsaid.  It gives us a chance to say sweet things to each other, and it gives Emma a chance to ask questions or tell me things that are easier said on paper than aloud.

Of course we still talk, and talk, and talk, but the journal allows us to communicate on a different level AND lets Emma know that even though she is one of three, she is one of a kind and so special to me.

"What the daughter does, the mother did."  ~Jewish Proverb

Meditation for Mamas?

We have been a house full of sickies all week, and I decided to take a few days off from the blog and not write about the joys of mopping up bodily eruptions at all hours of the day and night.  You are welcome.

Still all of this mothering has made me feel tired and introspective... not that much introspection is very possible with three children, mind you.  I know that there is a season for all things.  Right now I am in the midst of the serving, mothering, laundering, sleepless season, and I find myself craving silence.  There will also be a season for silence, but then I will, of course, crave the noisy chaos that a house full of children brings.

Over the weekend I was attempting to catch forty winks before an evening out with my husband.  I had just started to drift into that drowsy, dreamy wonderland where frogs wear tutus and angels whisper all of the secrets of the hereafter when dear, sweet Sophia stomped into my bedroom and announced (loudly), "Mom!  I'm really hungry!!"  It is safe to assume that I didn't hop up and make her a grilled cheese sandwich right then and there.  You are correct in thinking that the girl hightailed it out of there moments later apologizing and declaring, "I will just get myself a bowl of cereal."

So there I was, awake and annoyed.  Before I drifted off to sleep, I had been reading about Padre Pio of Pietrelcina who wrote (among other things), "Through the study of books, one seeks God; by meditation one finds him."  And I lay there wondering, how on earth does a mother of young children ever find the time to meditate?

I remember a day several years ago when I sat in the bathroom.  The bathroom had been a sacred and private place before I had children.  On this particular day there was a whining toddler tugging on my trousers and a four year old standing at the door observing and commenting on the events that were taking place.  "There are times when I just want to be ALONE!!" I moaned.

That darling, curly-headed four year old responded matter-of-factly, "But you can't, Mom, because we always want you."  How true, and how truly wonderful, but we mothers still do crave alone time.  Quiet, meditative time is nearly impossible for mothers of young children to find.  We have mother's ears, which my husband refers to as my "wolf senses".  Mother's ears hear everything when we are trying to unwind and relax (even if Dad is minding the whippersnappers).   We also have mother's brains which are capable of imagining all sorts of ridiculous worst-case scenarios about our children as we attempt to find quiet time for prayer or contemplation.

All of that being said, motherhood is chock full of divine moments.  When we are not tearing our hair out marvelling at the most recent naughty high jinks of our little darlings, there are these sublime moments that allow us to feel the presence and perfection of God.  There are soft baby kisses on our cheeks in the dark as we sway with a sleepy baby in our arms.  There are moments when we find ourselves having magical, meaningful conversations with a long-legged, big kid who was a toddler only yesterday.  A three-year-old reminds us of life's ordinary miracles as she squats over chubby ankles to gaze in wonderment at rocks and caterpillars and such. There are also times when we get to watch in astonishment as our children's gifts are revealed.  We sit with jaws dropped in awe of our little child who just wrote a beautiful poem, or kicked a winning soccer goal, or wowed an audience with a perfectly sung rendition of Tammy Wynette's "Stand By Your Man."

It is also true that the love that I feel for my children is so powerful that it gives me a small insight into the perfect love that is God.  Although I crave quiet time with a clear, unworried mind, I am not lacking in sacred moments: holding a sticky little hand or looking into a daughter's perspicacious eyes.

Don't get me wrong.  Quiet time is still required, and I may be hiding in the closet at this time tomorrow just to get a little of that stuff.

"Heaven is at the feet of mothers." ~ Arabic Proverb

Dydd Gŵyl Dewi Sant Hapus!

It's St. David's Day again, and we have done just a little bit over here to celebrate the day.  First I did what every self-respecting Welsh granny does today.  I made my own Welsh cakes from scratch.  Thank you, Delia Smith.  I would have made you proud.  I have to admit that I am just a little bit proud of myself.

Next I sauteed up some chopped bacon and leeks in a pan with some butter.  That's right.  I said bacon and leeks.

Then I added some white wine, cream and Parmesan cheese and tossed it all with some pasta.  Trust me.  The leeks make it Welsh, and it had me singing that favorite rousing hymn of Welshmen from the Valleys to the Brecon Beacons: "Feed Me Till I Want No More."

Emma and Sophie helped make a Welsh dragon out of Lili's hand prints.

Mostly we just enjoyed having a meal with our favorite Welsh  lass, Lilianna Gwyneth.  Those Welsh kids are fabulous dinner companions...

"Yes, those are leeks stuck to my eyebrow."

Come dine with me!   I'm a star as you can see!