Meredith Carson... Across the Pond and Back Again...

Over the Christmas holidays, my four year old brought home a wonderfully endearing, imperfect, asymmetrical, knobbly-looking stuffed bear that was given to her by her ingenious preschool teacher, Mrs. Carbary.  Lili's assignment was to name the bear, (no problem.  Sugarbear, of course) and to write in the bear's journal about his winter adventures.  One day as we sat at the kitchen table and I took dictation, this is what Lili had to say about Sugarbear's state of mind: I wondered if Sugarbear and I were kindred spirits because there are many winter days when I am hungry and every fiber of my being tells me I should eat chocolate and mashed potatoes and follow this action with a long nap.  I too am "made for summer...days" and tend to feel shivery, lethargic, and unimaginative during the cold, dark winter months. This year the cold months in Michigan have been exceptionally sharp and stinging, yet somehow I am doing okay.  After many difficult winters b...

We are now in the depths of winter.  I am maintaining my position perched well above Depression Valley with occasional visits to the Island of Aggravation and the Coasts of Over-stimulation.  'Tis the season. Christmas vacation always reminds me of how fragile my grip on psychological wellness is.  My circadian rhythms are thrown completely out of whack during the holidays. My senses are bombarded with flickering lights, unusual aromas, noisy chatter, and a clutter of new stuff. I also feel overwhelmed by the emotional needs of my ever present family.  To be clear most of them have not asked me to fully take on the burden their emotional needs, but I just cannot seem to help myself. I have felt particularly overstimulated and aggravated this week.  When my Monday morning exercise class (my last chance for group exercise before Friday) was canceled, I felt an emotion that reached far beyond frustration.   I f...

Back at the beginning of the fall, in anticipation of my undoubtedly imminent seasonal depression, I tried out a new antidepressant drug.   The medication that I used last year was just so-so and carried with it some unwanted side effects, so I started out with a very low dose of the new drug.  By the end of the first day I felt like I was wired on caffeine.   Toward the end of the second day I had developed a pounding headache which was exacerbated by the drug induced insomnia.   Clearly this new drug was not the miracle I was hoping for.   I returned the mostly unused bottle to the pharmacy for disposal and made up my mind that we all just needed to move to Colorado where life, I  imagine, must be perfect. Colorado was not a realistic quick fix, so I took a few deep breaths and decided not to panic.   I was not ready to let go of the deep contentment that had settled over me during the summer months.   I continually meditated on ...

Last night I was invited to help out with a "Birthday Bake Off" party hosted by my friend Allison for her daughter's twelfth birthday.  She claims she was inspired by a home baking challenge we had here at our house the night before school started.  (You can read about our Sweet Genius Baking Challenge HERE .)  But 'inspiring' is about the only thing for which I can take credit.  She hosted a glorious party in our church's big kitchen where eleven girls and one excited boy created twelve unique and beautiful cakes.  I teamed up with my nine-year-old daughter Sophia to create this simple and wonderful "Trip Down Lemon Lane" cake.   Allison created a fanciful and gratifying birthday party that her daughter Natalie will never forget.  All twelve kids got to take home a one-of-a-kind cake made by themselves to share with their families.  "Brilliant!" I declare. Last night's fun has sent the cogs and wheels in my h...

I have been once again whipped up into the vortex that is middle school.  The first time around I was a sixth grader myself.  I remember that I was completely panicked and self-conscious about how I looked but too tired to wake up early enough to ensure that I had brushed my hair and dressed myself in matching clothes each morning.  I was completely overwhelmed with the busyness of   my new schedule at Jamestown Middle School.    I was dumbstruck by the school lessons about atoms and molecules, communism and the Holocaust, and I was dazzled by the vast assortment of different kids whose approval I so desired. I spent the entirety of my sixth grade year simultaneously feeling both confused and excited; lost and found; idiotic and brilliant.   I experimented with fashion, with friends, with study habits, and with personal identities.   It was exhausting. Meredith, age 11 Rocking the Swatch watch, of course Finally, after many ye...

The night before school started I decided we needed one last creative hurrah at our house before the drudgery of homework and the dread of early morning alarm clocks set in.  Over the summer my two oldest girls and I had become obsessed with the show Sweet Genius on the Food Network.  This show is hosted by the creepy, quirky, and wonderful Chef Ron Ben-Israel.  The premise of the show: accomplished cake/sugar/candy artists are presented with strange mandatory ingredients (like caviar or fruit roll-ups) that must be used in the creation of a dessert that fits into a particular category such as candy, chocolate, or cake.  Contestants are also supplied with an "inspiration" (like disco or puppies) that must be represented in their final, delicious product. On September 2, 2013 we had a Sweet Genius inspired competition in our kitchen.  My kids, who are novice bakers, were allowed to use recipes as references.  They didn't have a ...

I sent this beautiful person off to middle school for the first time this week. She wasn't wearing the war paint when I hustled her onto the wrong bus at 7 am.  She was dressed in a pair of orange shorts and a t-shirt, an outfit she hadn't agonized over very much, by the looks of it.  She was nonchalant and relaxed, but as I watched the wrong bus carry her away into the darkness of the early morning, my insides seized up unexpectedly and I had the unnerving desire to chase after the bus screaming, "Come back, sweet girl!!"  What the hell happened? The overwhelming sense of worry that overtook me that morning was completely unexpected.  After realizing that the number on the bus that my daughter was riding was NOT the number of the bus she was supposed to be riding, I hurried home and called our public school transportation office.  The rather bored secretary confirmed that Emma would arrive at her own school after the high school kids ...