The Family Dinner, a book plug

I recently picked up this book (The Family Dinner by Laurie David) at a friend's house while we were in Kentucky.  I casually began to flip through the pages, then found myself, moments later, curled around it as my brain purred and began to devour little morsels if inspiration that lay on each page.  When we got home, I immediately ordered a copy for myself.  This book merely confirmed things that I already believe about the importance of dining together as a family.  It is also full of recipes and suggestions for making family meal time more fun, healthful and meaningful for kids and their parents.

Although this particular suggestion was not in the book, I have begun writing the evening's "menu" on a white board in our kitchen, and my children find this incredibly exciting (especially when a dessert is listed).  Anticipation creates excitement.

Last night we also played a couple of dinner table conversation games, which kept my husband and his short attention span thoroughly engaged throughout the meal.  We first played "Thorns and Roses" and shared the best thing about our day (the roses) and the worst thing (the thorns).  By the way, three different people at our table noted that the best thing about their day was the fact that Lili had triumphed at the potty for the first time ever.  You go, girl!  (Literally.)  The Family Dinner contains a couple of chapters with fun ideas for stimulating conversation and frivolity at the dinner table.

I have one daughter who has, from a very early age, appreciated the sensual value of enjoying a meal, savoring the flavors and embracing warm companionship at the table.  I have often referred to Sophia as my "food soul mate."  She becomes at least as ecstatic as I am over a beautiful piece of fish and some fresh stalks of asparagus.  Cooking and dining with her is an easy and joyous experience...

"WOWZA!"  

I also recognize that it is tempting to always call her name first when I need a helper in the kitchen. I am trying to be more conscious about getting everyone involved in the kitchen.  Last night Emma helped me prepare everything that was listed on our menu board: bangers and mash, steamed broccoli and carrots, and best of all, chocolate zucchini cake.  When we were finished preparing this meal, there was, for some Emma-related reason, water all over the kitchen counters and floors.  This was, of course, a small price to pay for quality time in the kitchen with my eldest girl.

Our "Family Dinner" is an evolving experience, but so far, we have just a few Dinner Time Rules:

• No TV or phones at the dinner table (of course).
• Everyone drinks water with dinner.  (My nine year old is not a huge fan of this one.)
• You must try a little of everything on the table.
• Everyone helps with dinner (cooking/ preparation and/or cleaning up).

Easy enough, yes?  I am motivated and excited now, but I am feeling a bit dreadful about the start of the school year and the beginning of after school and evening commitments.  Will we still be able to preserve the sacred family dinner several nights a week?  Stay tuned.

"All great change in America begins at the dinner table. " ~Ronald Reagan 

(Yes, I just quoted Ronald Reagan on my blog.)

Fair Play

Last year the kids were seriously displeased when we weren't able to go to our local Midland County Fair.  Having grown up in the UK, they had never been to a county fair, and they were feeling extremely deprived.  We knew this year, even though we were still recovering from a long weekend away in Kentucky, we would have to suck it up and take them out there.  I think we managed to tick all of the boxes.

Ooh-ing an Ahh-ing at livestock?

Check.

Indulging in some healthy fair food?

It's no deep-fried stick of butter, but still... Check.

Sitting astride a giant pachyderm?

Why yes, as a matter of fact, we did that too.

How about spending twenty American dollars to ride a giant Ferris wheel?

Check.

Double check.

And finally... giving coins to the creepy and rather sad Capuchin monkey.

Check, please.

Ginkgo Biloba, Take Me Away!

When I was pregnant with Lili, I developed a severe case of what my kids called "Baby Brain."  While we were out driving, I'd occasionally forget where I was and where I was going.  I can distinctly remember an occasion when we left my kids' primary school and were driving through the tiny Welsh village of Radyr.  I took a couple of mindless turns, then stopped the car, looked over at the five year old in the passenger seat and asked, "Where in the heck are we?!"  She stared back at me with her mouth gaping and replied with astonishment, "Don't you know?"

Honestly I did not know.  I also wasn't sure what day of the week it was or what the intended destination was when I began driving.  I'd regularly haul my happy, pregnant self upstairs, walk into my bedroom and realize I had completely forgotten why I had come up in the first place.  I'd wrack my brain furiously for about ten seconds, and then I'd decide that I might as well climb into bed and take a nap since I had come all that way anyway.

I also noticed that I was forgetting words when I was writing or speaking.  It was as if a blank Rolodex were spinning inside my brain.  Words that used to spring to my fingers or lips in an instant were lost.  In their place were cobwebs and Barry Manilow song lyrics.  Don't worry, I assured myself, it's just that doggone Baby Brain.  I felt confident that I would be clever again one day when I was no longer carrying an alien in my belly.

If you've met my almost two-year-old daughter Lili, you may have realized that she is rather clever herself.  Perhaps a little too clever.  Clever like a thieving fox!  I am convinced that that girl plundered portions of my brain.  She sucked my brains right through the umbilical cord, and most of that gray matter still hasn't grown back!

Will it ever grow back, friends?  That empty Rolodex continues to spin several times a day as I hunt for what ought to be a completely obvious word or name.  Last night, it didn't matter, but I beat my breast and moaned for a good five minutes because I couldn't remember the name of the actor who played "Snape" in the Harry Potter films.  I could picture him and could tell you the name of five other of his movies including the 1990 wonderfully, quirky British film Truly, Madly, Deeply, but I could not recall the name Alan Rickman to save my Granny's life!  Why?

Should I blame my age, my baby or the Internet?  With a seemingly infinite amount of information available to us instantly via Google and Wikipedia, our memories needn't be as sharp as they used to be.  I can still remember Susanna Hegner's parents' phone number, the one I dialed thirty seven times a day back in sixth grade, but I cannot tell you what my current cell phone number or my husband's work number is.  These digits are all programmed into some technological memory now, and my own memory is gradually turning to mush.

I need a plan, people.  I obviously cannot stop aging, and I am unwilling to give up my babies and the Internet.  Should I teach myself a new skill every year and quiz myself with the British Actor Flashcard game, (which I will be creating posthaste)?  (That's Colin Firth!  10 points to Gryffindor!)  Should I take some sort of herbal supplement?  Is there some sort of brain-re-grow potion I can brew in the basement?  Is there any hope for me?  Seriously.  Am I crazy?

"When I was younger, I could remember anything, whether it had happened or not." ~Mark Twain

Big Kids

Here is a news flash:  I love babies.  Babies are little, innocent, cuddly people.  Everything in this world is a novel discovery for a baby, and having a baby around makes mundane tasks seem new and exciting again.

Something crazy has happened, however, since our third little bundle of fun came along.  Sometime while I was changing diapers and playing peekaboo, my two other little kids decided to grow into big kids.

And guess what?

Big kids are hilarious and fun in a different way.  Big kids make jokes that actually make sense.  If you aren't careful a big seven year old might, while at the local lake, announce to everyone who is within earshot that she is going to go and dip her "ass in the water."  The ass to which she is referring is, of course, a donkey- (a.k.a "ass") shaped animal cracker because a nice seven year old would never use that word in its naughty context, right?

Big kids have their own taste in music and fashion.  A big kid will gladly paint your toenails a shocking shade of orange and give you a new hairdo employing sixteen rubber bands and a rainbow/ leopard print scarf while her Pixie Lott CD croons, "Uh-oh, Uh-ooh"  in the background.  Big kids are just cool like that.

This past weekend I had THE best time in the swimming pool with my two big kids.  Not only did we swim and play, but we invented an imaginary Aquacise class with a full cast of colorful characters including the flamboyant instructor Carl and the three squabbling Pootypants sisters: Scarlett, Charlotte and Betty.  Aquacize IS such a great way to work off the stress and those extra helpings of biscuits and gravy, girls.

As Mika would say, "Big girls, you are beautiful."  I love my big girls and my constantly evolving family.  Motherhood is many things, but it is never boring.

My New Favorite Baby and a Birthday Surprise

I do not advertise over the Internet when I am planning a trip just in case my stalker is reading this blog or checking my facebook status.  But now that I am back, I can tell you that we had a lovely long weekend away in North Carolina visiting family and my BFF's new baby Claire.  It is indeed a very special thing when someone you love has a baby.  All of us thought little Claire was rather fabulous...

Emma loved her.

Sophie did too.

I had a difficult time sharing her.

Lili liked Claire, of course, but she was even more smitten with this Coconut Macaroon;

And George had tons of fun playing Pac Man with Claire's Dad.

Imagine four days in Greensboro with five Carsons in one hotel room.  It hardly gets much better.  Every night was like a slumber party with our toddler wide eyed and bushy tailed until eleven o'clock.  Everyone had their toenails painted an exotic color (including Dad), and we also experimented with temporary body tattoos.  The love that my tramp stamp declared was true blue, I tell you.  We also managed to indulge in some Krispy Kremes hot off the conveyor belt, dine with the adoring seniors at Friends Home West, and savor a Chik-Fil-a Breakfast.  Michigan does NOT know what it's missing!

And as if that weren't enough fun, we also succeeded in pulling of a fantastic birthday surprise for my mom with a small party of fifteen of her biggest fans.

And that, my friends, is a great weekend!