Everyday Grace

Earlier this week I found myself driving downtown very early in the morning. I was tired and out of my routine. As I drove towards the sky rises and into heavier traffic I found myself looking inward and focusing on myself. Thoughts about the kids, school work, behavior problems, dinner, budgets, writing tasks and work crowded my mind. Typical working mother multi-tasking. If my brain were a computer I would have 20 tabs open at once. It is no wonder so many of us are just so tired all the time- our brains are always on the move!

I found my way to my destination and, in my typical fashion, circled the block a few times trying to figure out where I should park. As I drove past a well manicured green space something bright blue caught my eye. Foxes! A family of over-sized colorful, movable foxes were peeking out from behind a group of trees. Last weekend my family and I wandered into a group of over-sized and colorful snails hiding out in the downtown library courtyard. We then saw similar birds in another part of the city. The foxes made me smile, remembering the fun surprise happening across the snails had been for my boys. "These animals must be all over the city!", I thought to myself. For just a moment, those computer tabs in my brain shut down and a warm feeling crept in. 

I remained confused as to where to park and so I pulled in to a small lot. The attendant stopped me and I assumed he was going to take my payment so I began rooting around for my wallet, barely making eye contact with the bundled up gentleman at my window. "Good morning!". He greeted me happily. His smile beamed at me. Warmth crept in a little more. After taking the time to ask me why I was downtown he suggested another parking garage just down the street that would better suit my needs for the day, and that was less expensive. He lost business in his little parking lot because he was doing the right thing for me. Warm. Warm. Oh so warm!

As I pulled in to the parking garage down the street the attendant flung open his window. Again, my expectations for whatever interaction we were about to have were low. "Good morning!". Here was another human being smiling at me again. After telling me to have a "most amazing day" he waved me on. so.much.warmth.

Everywhere I went that day my interactions were the same. Police officers, city workers, cafeteria employees and fellow citizens were going out of their way to show kindness and respect to one another. Smiles were waiting down the hall as I turned the corner. Doors were held. "Please" and "Thank You" were repeatedly offered. And with every pleasant interaction any frustration I had carried with me into the city that day melted away. Sometimes our fuse is just ready, isn't it? There are times that one frustration after another pile up and before we know it we are primed to explode at whatever the next frustration might be, regardless of how small. Like many people, I am no stranger to the short fuse. Often, for seemingly no reason at all, I am ready to explode, anger living just below the surface.All the time, it seems. I am two inches from an angry outburst all.the.time.  But on this day, pleasant interaction after pleasant interaction slowly extinguished that fuse. Just think how much we could all move forward along whatever path we are individually on if we all treated each other this way. One big train of warm fuzzy feelings, winding through our families and communities. 

I was driving home that evening when the sunset painted the sky. I am usually inside the house during this time of day, especially during the colder months, when the sun sets earlier. I am rushing to finish my work day and then rushing downstairs to start dinner and homework, and then rushing out to after school practices and scout meetings. Sunsets are not usually on my radar. But on this day I had no choice but to enjoy the beauty. And it was spectacular. 

The grace of God is in the ordinary. In the every day. We know this, of course. In theory, we understand this and we have been told this many times in our lives. We see this ordinary grace in literature, we hear it in songs on the radio and our ministers share it with us over and over again. But I think we tend to forget. We tend to ignore the mundane and focus on the wait for the Big Sign. 

But what if that big sign doesn't come? What if we spend our entire lives waiting? What a tragedy that would be, to miss the every day grace. To miss a brief but tender moment with a child because we are rushing out the door. Grace lost. To lose focus on a conversation with a loved one because we are so focused on getting to our destination on time and so instead are thinking about the traffic that surrounds us. Grace lost. To miss sharing large, colorful animal statues with my boys, because I was annoyed at the change in my routine that brought me downtown in the first place.  Grace lost for sure. 

There is a bigger picture, though, than the simple fact that God is in the details. He is also in the pain and suffering and even the little frustrations we face every day. What if these hard moments are God's way of saying "Pay attention!". "Open your eyes and LOOK!". How many of those moments have I missed? 

"Pay attention! Your child's behavior is trying to tell you something!"

"Look at your husband, right now! Watch this gentle moment he is having with his son!"

"Open your eyes! Your coworker is hurting." 

Hard moments are tough. They can be physically and emotionally draining. They can sometimes feel like huge setbacks, or bring big feelings of disappointment. But they are also the times we so often remember. The moments that live in our hearts, whispering to us to make a change. Maybe it's an adoptive mother who will never forget the look in the sunken eyes of the children at the orphanage where her child once lived. That hard memory of having to walk away from all of those little ones, leaving them behind, knowing they don't understand why there is no love, yet, for them, might lead to a heart whisper that leads to a lifetime of working for orphans.  That call from a friend announcing the death of her marriage might lead to a heart whisper of thankfulness in a relationship and a desire to work harder to sustain a marriage. That hard moment of seeing another mother fall apart at the set backs of a special needs child, yet again, may lead to a heart whisper to get involved, to become a part of someone else's village. Yes, hard moments are tough. But they are needed. They are wake up calls from God to do something. To notice something. To stop running and just be, if only for a moment. 

Grace in the ordinary and hard moments bring His love for us alive. Maybe it's a warm feeling brought on by the goodness of others, a fox statue or a colorful sunset viewed from the windshield of your car in rush hour traffic. Or maybe it's a big push found in the heart whisper we hear as we sit in  the ruins of yet another disappointment or set back. They are easy to ignore, the warmth and the whispers. Open your eyes! Look! The moments are everywhere, aren't they? 

What warmth have you felt, or what heart whisper have you heard today? Share your comment below. 

my mother's day wish list

Mother's Day is this Sunday. I am hopeful for a specific present but since I also asked for said present for my birthday a few months ago I don't have high hopes. But it's all good. Whatever my boys do, or don't do, it will be a great day. After all, there were years that I thought I would never get to celebrate my own Mother's Day, so I am happy just to be a mom. No, really.

But if I were to daydream about the perfect Mother's Day present, previously asked for gift aside, my wish list might look something like this:

• 20 clean fingernails on my two young sons. I can't find a fingernail brush at any store for my two little dirt balls  sweeties.
• No Cheerios or off brand Fruit Loops in the living room. Not.A.Single.One. Not under the sofas, not smashed between the pages of a book, not hiding in the coffee table drawer....
• Just one morning where the big five year old doesn't kick his wet pull up off his body and into the air as high as he can while Mommy ducks so as not to be hit as it lands with a thud. Just throw the thing away already!
• A kitchen floor that stays clean for more than 2 minutes.
• Beer.
• No cat messes on the carpet.
• The tiny toddler happily accepting whatever food item is offered, the first time. 
• My sweet husband's iPhone mysteriously getting lost for a few hours.
• Using the bathroom without anyone pounding on the door or any tiny fingers pushing tiny cars under the door.
• No one under the age of 40 waking me up. 
• A drawer full of matching socks for the big five year old. Why that boy never has clean socks might forever be a mystery to me. 
• No football games, play groups, birthday parties, or lessons of any kind to get to. And all that that implies- no packing apple slices and drink boxes, no loading the car with chairs and strollers, no martial arts uniform to wash and iron...
• Some really good ice cream.
• Nobody saying the word "poop". 24 hours of not hearing that word. Just give me that.
• A winning lottery ticket. Let me clarify. I am not interested in one of those tickets where I win $5.00. I mean a solid, quit your job and stay home swimming in your brand new in ground pool winning ticket. 
• Sex when I am still awake enough to enjoy it. 
• The Christmas lights taken down off the shrubs in the front of the house. That's right, we're that family.
• Marry Poppins landing with her umbrella in my backyard and happily and efficiently potty training my tiny toddler.
• A guilt free shopping spree where I buy only clothes for me. No tiny underwear, no tiny socks, nothing for my sweet husband. Me. Only for me.
• No Tom & Jerry on TV. 
• The organizing fairy showing up to clean out and pull together the closet in the office.
• Time to watch a totally cheesy chick flick, complete with popcorn.
• Being able to use the laptop without any little people tugging on my pants and demanding their turn.
• No guilty feeling when I walk past the shower in the master bath. No wondering when I last cleaned it. I mean really cleaned it, and not the quick once every two weeks half hearted wipe it gets now.
• No one in my house having sticky hands and fingers and touching absolutely everything. 
• The tiny toddler finally understanding that he does not need to scream as though his head in stuck in the rails of his crib just because he has pulled a special little something out of his nose and  wants to show it me. I am sleeping. I do not need to see your boogers at 6am. GO BACK TO SLEEP! 
• A decent photo of me and my boys. One where no one is frowning, no one has their head cocked so far to the right they are out of the photo, no one is holding a toy in front of their mouth or pinching their brother.
• Nobody whining. 

I know. Dream on, right? Maybe, just maybe  Mary Poppins will materialize in my backyard but there is no way we could make it through the day with no Tom & Jerry or whining...

But it's all good. A kiss and hug from my boys. That is all I really need for Mother's Day.

365 days

This past weekend we celebrated the tiny toddler's Family Day. For reasons my husband and I cannot articulate we both dislike the term "Gotcha Day". We prefer to think of these two special days as the days that we all became a family.  Every Family Day is special, of course, but this year the celebration took on a different meaning. It was a celebration of survival. The growing pains our family suffered this past year were not easy. Always worth it, but not easy. And so, one year into being a family of four, I have these thoughts about the past 365 days.

If I had it to do all over again I would have read more books about behavior modification and the adopted child before traveling to Russia. Our adoption agency gave us a minimal amount of information on what to expect, and I truly didn't know any better. Which is 100% my fault. We had so much waiting time before the big five year old came home from China that I read every book about China adoption I could get my hands on. I knew exactly what our trip would be like. I knew how we would be treated in China. I knew what to expect when we came home. But the second time around it happened more quickly. We already had a child in our home to care for and drive around town to preschool, football practice, Sunday school, birthday parties, China school, China play group... It is no excuse, but we were busy living our lives. And we are good parents. We knew what we were doing. And thank God we did.

Because if we had been first time parents this past year would have been unbearable. We would have made way more mistakes than we did. That being said, I still wish I had been better prepared to start from day one the special type of love and discipline needed for a 24 month old adopted from a foreign country. I have no doubt that the frustration we felt when dealing with our sweet tiny toddler did nothing but add to the problem.

If I had it to do all over again I would have put the lock on the refrigerator earlier.

I would have found the solution to the problem of the tiny toddler removing his car seat straps earlier.

I would have removed all the toys before the tiny toddler threw them at my head.

I would have taken more deep breaths. I would have stopped using time outs sooner. I would have, I would have, I would have....

But I can't turn back the clock. And it is time for me to let it all go. I need to remember that we were in the trenches. Had I been on the outside looking in at our little drama this past year I might very well have thought of all of these things, and more. But living it every day, I was too close to the situation to clearly see my way out. So I did what everyone does in a difficult situation. I did the best I could with what I had to work with. And it was enough.

I have 365 days of being a mother to two small boys under my belt. I have 365 days of watching bugs crawl across the sidewalk. I have 365 days of blowing bubbles with the tiny toddler in the bathtub. I have 365 days of laying on our bed reading books with him. I have 365 days of  hugs, and cuddles, and kisses. I have 365 days of watching him say "I love you" in his special version of sign language. I have 365 days of "firsts". Watching him fall in love with his first TV show. Watching him taste peanut butter for the first time. Sharing his first amusement park and seeing his love of merry go rounds bloom right before my eyes. His first English words. His first meeting with Grandma and HG. His first time counting to five.

In three days my tiny toddler will celebrate his third birthday. Last year we were in Russia on his birthday and we celebrated with an odd tasting cake made by the hotel dining room. Me and Daddy and our new son, alone, unsure, not knowing what the future held but thrilled to be together in that moment. This year he understands what his birthday is about. He has picked out the flavor of cake he wants and has chosen the candles for the top. He likes to hold the package of candles and pretend to blow them out. He is ready. Later this month he will have another first- his first American birthday party. Because one of the few things we knew he truly liked last Christmas was buses that is what everyone gave him last year. Every Christmas present he opened contained some sort of bus toy. Now he thinks all presents hold buses and so every time we talk about his birthday he says "bus?". He has no idea....

The big five year old is in his second season of flag football. He will participate in his first vacation bible school this summer. he heads off to kindergarten in the fall, and will also be taking violin lessons, playing sports, and becoming more involved in church. He will continue with China school and his China play group. The tiny toddler is turning three and will soon be starting preschool. He will take swimming lessons this summer and a music class in the Fall. He will start Sunday school and maybe take martial arts at China school with his big brother. He will learn more English and more self control. My family may be done "growing", which is a little sad, sometimes. But we have so much "growing up" still to do.

So here's to another 365 days of chaos and craziness. Here's to more "Mommy, can you put this rock in your pocket cuz i want to keep it forever." More, "Me do it, Mama, me do it!". More singing in the car and dancing in the living room. More pretending the stairs are a train that can take us anywhere in the world we want to go. More watching bugs and playing in the dirt with our little construction cars. More monster trucks and Angry Birds. More giggles because big brother said "poop!". Another 365 days of love.

the man he will one day become

I saw my little boy grow up a little last weekend. It seems as though right before my eyes he went from my baby to a grown up five year old.  We spent the weekend being very busy, shuttling the kids from one place to another, every moment planned out. Well, to be truthful, we spent most of the weekend shuttling the big five year old around while the tiny toddler came along for the ride. By the time Sunday afternoon rolled around I truly was seeing a different boy when I looked at my oldest son.

This happens to mothers every so often. It has only happened to me once before, although I know it will again as my boys grow. I walked away from my then four year old last May to spend a month in Russia finalizing the adoption of his new little brother. I cannot put into words how my heart ached for my oldest son while I was away from him. I couldn't wait to hold him, to touch his hair, to feel his  little body in my lap. My body and mind were tired from the long trip home with the tiny toddler strapped to my hip. My steps had slowed and my sleep deprived brain was getting a little fuzzy. But when we finally landed in Columbus Ohio my strength was renewed and my steps were a little lighter as I walked off the plane and into the arms of my oldest son. I remember sitting on a bench, crying, holding my four year old, with the poor tiny toddler smashed between us. And then I really looked at my boy.

His hair was more course. His head was bigger. His body was sturdier. He had changed dramatically in those four weeks I had missed. And last weekend it happened again.

We are hoping that our big five year old is accepted into the private christian school to which we have applied. Last Saturday we had to rush him straight from China school, where he had already spent two hours completing Mandarin and Martial Arts classes, to an hour and a half of kindergarten testing. While we waited for the test to be completed we chased the tiny toddler around the school and attended a parent orientation meeting. As I sat in that classroom listening to one of the kindergarten teachers talk about the first few weeks of school and expectations, it hit me. My baby was going to be in kindergarten next year. In just three short months he will get on a school bus, by himself, and go to school. He will have to remember his backpack and lunch box. He will not be able to take one of the "baby animals" he carries in to preschool every day. He will be buying milk, for God's sake!

Sunday we rushed straight from church to my big five year old's first flag football game of the season. He played last Fall for the first time and loved it. Football is definitely my little man's game. 

my little football star!

Despite the lack of direction from the coach, my little football player let his talent shine through. He ran for 2 touchdowns and pulled 11 flags. He zigged and zagged and by the end of the game every parent on the sidelines was cheering for him. He was the standout MVP of the game. And I was so proud.

But what made my heart sing even more than the smile on his face when he ran the ball into the end zone was what I saw happening in between his turns to run the ball. My big five year old was doing more than scoring points for his team. He ran next to every other kid when it was their turn to run the ball. He attempted to block for them, even though the team had not yet been taught about blocking. He cheered them on, encouraging his new team mates to run that ball. He jumped up and down and clapped at the end of each play, touch down or not. He not only showed his amazing athletic skills but, perhaps more importantly, he showed his amazing compassion and sportsman like conduct. Watching my son run next to a team mate, cheering them on, brought tears to my eyes. He is growing up so fast.

Later, when I had a moment to sit still and really look at the photo I snapped before the game, (above), I was taken by how small my big five year old looks. Because out on that field I didn't see this little boy- I saw a glimpse of the man he will one day become.

940 Saturdays

I read an article yesterday that I can't stop thinking about. It was in Parents magazine and you can read the article here. It is all about finding ways to spend more quality time with your children. Note I said quality. It's not about quantity. It's about having meaningful interactions with your kids. I am all about making my kids' lives happy, healthy, and memorable, so I began reading this article with great anticipation. And I did get some really good ideas out of it. But I also read something that made my heart stop briefly. The author, Dr. Harley Rotbart, says, "There are only 940 Saturdays between a child's birth and her leaving for college." WHAT?

940 doesn't seem like that many to me. If these Saturdays were dollars then we charge more than that to our credit card every month. And in my case, I lost 56 Saturdays with my big five year old and 96 Saturdays with my tiny toddler before they even joined my family. As I read the article and did the math my heart sank. I am losing time!

Maybe because we worked so hard to bring these boys into our lives my sweet husband and I already cherish our time with them. We plan fun trips to monster truck shows, outings to children's concerts, vacations to amusement parks and beaches. We frequently stop by the park after daycare/preschool to play and we work hard to spend as much time together as possible. But I get tired of the parenthood grind too.

I enjoy sitting down at the kitchen table with my big five year old, helping him with his homework, which pretty much consists of watching him write the alphabet and listening as he reads his kindergarten reading books. He is learning to read, and it is an amazing thing to watch! But I have to admit, when I have helped him sound out the difference between "pick" and "peck" for the thousandth time, I get a little tired of it. I love our bedtime routine with the tiny toddler. We read, rock, snuggle, hug and kiss, and then, when he is zippered into his crib he points to the rocking chair across the room and demands, "Mama, SIT!". And I do. And I am so pleased when he tries to say "spider", which comes out more like "Speeda", and makes the hand motions, asking me to sing his new favorite song. But by the time I am on my seventeenth chorus of "Itsy Bitsy Spider" I am done. Go to sleep already!

I love cooking for my family, when they aren't around. But when they are all home, getting underfoot, demanding snacks, asking for something other than what is on the menu that night- I don't like it so much. Sure, I get the boys involved, having them set the table or tear the lettuce for the salad, but sometimes it is just too much, always having them be literally right where I need to be. Always. But these moments will be gone, way too soon. And I knew that, of course. Every mother of young children has been told by countless mothers of grown children to "cherish every moment". And I try to, I really do. But when I am sweeping the kitchen floor for the third time in one day or mopping up water off the bathroom floor that should have stayed in the tub I start to lose sight of those days in the future when my tub will be empty and my house always clean. But this article really helped me to visualize the amount of time we truly have with our children.

At the daycare Christmas play this past Christmas my then almost five year old wanted to sit with his friends to eat his after the show cookies. He rides his bike without my help and can climb up on the counter to get the fluoride toothpaste that we have to keep up and out of the reach of his little brother. Every day there is something new that he no longer needs me for. And he is five years old- I have already "spent" over 240 of my precious Saturdays. And once they're gone, they are gone. You can't get them back.

So while I am happy with both the quantity and quality of time I spend with my children I will  always keep "940 Saturdays"  in the back of my mind. When I am bargaining with my husband over which one of us will run upstairs to check on the sleeping boys, or when I am singing show tunes in my head to stave off the boredom of watching them ride their bikes past the house for the hundredth time, or when I am just trying to get from the car to the store and home again and one of my little ones stops me to show me a bug, or a leaf, or a rock, I will try to remember that with each bike ride or each bug crawling past us the days are numbered. Before I know it my big five year old will be spending Saturdays in his dorm room, playing video games or drinking (gasp!) with his friends. In the blink of an eye my tiny toddler will have a home of his own and may be sitting in a rocking chair in his son's room, singing the same song over and over and over. Yes, the days are numbered.


I read the article in Parents magazine and I have committed to trying some of the techniques mentioned. Some of them I already do, but there is always room for improvement. I plan to work on practicing parenting meditation, take more pajama walks, and serve more ice cream with sprinkles.

Tomorrow is Saturday. How are you going to spend one of your 940 Saturdays?

making memories with green squishy guys

It's important to me that my boys grow up with happy memories of our loving home. I have great memories of my childhood, mostly including my father, who passed away before I turned 30 years old. It was my dad who always put together the stockings each Christmas, picking out exactly the perfect little gifts for each of his girls. It was my dad who played basketball with me in the driveway and who took me with him when he judged marching band competitions. It was my dad standing outside the door at every solo and ensemble contest because I wouldn't let him in the room. (He was well known among his peers and I wanted that "Excellent" rating because of my ability, not because James Kirk was in the room.) We each make memories for our kids in our own way, and celebrating everything we can in fun small ways in how I am helping my boys make lasting memories of their own. I fill their bedrooms with balloons on their birthday. And they get special little surprises for the little holidays. If the Easter Bunny or Santa is not involved then I am on it!


Saturday was St. Patrick's Day. Earlier in the week we made yummy pretzel and green chocolate treats that I saw while wasting time on Pinterest. Each boy took a bag of these treats to school to share with their classes- they were a big hit!

This morning the boys woke up to these cute little green buckets waiting for them on the kitchen table. Each bucket contained a few green army men with parachutes, a green squishy ball with face and hair, and a little gift- the tiny toddler got an Elmo book and the big five year old an Angry Birds slap bracelet. I overheard the big five year old telling the tiny toddler last night that "maybe the lucky leprechaun" would visit that night, and my heart soared. He remembered his little St. Patrick's Day treat last year and now is sharing his enthusiasm with his little brother. A tradition is born!

These little gifts cost me less than $4.00 total- for two kids that is small price to pay! Both boys took their squishy ball guys with them to China school that morning, and my big five year old promptly named his.


They are only this little for a short time and we are making the most of it!

aptly named "Cutie Pie"

holiday lights and happy tears

 Saturday night we strapped the kiddos into the car and drove them to Alum Creek State Park to see the Festival of Lights. Oh. My. God. Breath taking. It was a wonderful night. It was more wonderful than I could have imagined and I was totally filled with the holiday spirit. And knowing how that night have could have gone oh so badly makes the memories even better.

Maybe we take too many trips back home to Cleveland. My husband has a large family- two sisters with seven kids between them. With holidays, birthdays, football games, baseball games, extended family in town - there are times that it seems we are constantly driving up and down Route 71. And so maybe, just maybe, this is why my big four and a half year old distrusts us when we say we won't be in the car very long, this time. He is tall and solid for an almost five year old but he is very slim and let's face it, he's a little bony. And so he is probably not exaggerating when he tells me his "bum bum" hurts. So maybe this was why he didn't want to take a drive to see holiday lights. He started complaining about it the moment I mentioned it and didn't stop for an entire week. His whining drove me to this statement:
"You WILL NOT ruin this for me. I will see Christmas lights with or without you, and if you come and whine the entire time you will not watch TV until you are 10!"

I know. Crazy. Totally over the top. But seriously. This kid was driving me crazy. Who doesn't enjoy Christmas lights? He LOVES them at home. Our battle raged all week. And then, the night arrived. As we sat at the breakfast table talking about the day ahead he cheered when I reminded him he would be going to China School later that morning. He clapped when I mentioned that China School also meant martial arts class. He smiled when I talked about how he and I would need to make the home made hot cocoa mix for his teachers. And he folded his little arms across his chest, stomped his foot, and stated. "I DO NOT want to go look at Christmas junk!", when I mentioned our planned drive that evening. Sigh.

I fed everyone an early dinner and shoved little feet into little shoes and little heads into hats. I pushed the big four and half year old into the bathroom to "try before we go", even though he was positive he didn't have to. He did. I changed the tiny toddler's diaper. I dug out the entrance money to the park. We strapped everyone in and programmed Bernice, our GPS. And the "when will we get there" questions started before Bernice even got to step "four". And let's face it- we all know how to get out of our own neighborhood, which takes about four steps. So my big four and a half year old was subscribing to the "complain early and often" theory. Sigh.

We get close to the park, which is not too far from where my husband used to work, and my husband, God bless him, refuses to follow Bernice's directions. She has access to satellites full of up to the minute information, but he was stubborn convinced he was right. He didn't know where the park was, but he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he knew it was not the way we were being led. Sigh.

In our house we measure time by Special Agent Oso. Special Agent Oso is a strange little yellow panda bear who, frankly, is just a mess. How this bear manages to even get his special agent vest on every morning, let alone solve problems like how to eat with chopsticks or how to brush your teeth is beyond me. But Oso comes on in fifteen minute segments, so we tell time in fifteen minute segments too. "We will be there in less than two Oso's.", is often heard in our car. And we were less than one Oso away from fulfilling one of my holiday traditions, seeing the lights.

We never hung lights on our little home in Kent when I was a kid. We had a tree and stockings and we hung the cards we received on the stairs, but we reserved our front yard for our "bag people". I loved our bag people. I wouldn't be caught dead with a large plastic baby Jesus in my front yard now, but as a kid, I loved them. I called them bag people because when they weren't gracing our front yard they were living in bags, stored in the rafters in the garage. I always have a flood of warm holiday memories sneak up on me when I see my beloved bag people in some one's front yard.

And along with the bag people we also took drives to see the lights around town. We visited the store fronts in downtown Akron, checking out the annual Christmas displays. We drove around town looking at individual homes lit up like Christmas trees. We drove my grandparents into Cleveland to see the large power company lighting display. And we often drove to Oglebay Park  to drive through their light show. My dad loved his Christmas light drives. And I love them too. And no one, especially no child of mine, was going to ruin that for me. We were less than one Oso away!

The questions continued. "Why are those guys standing in the middle of the road, Mommy?" (They were collecting entrance fees.) "Where are the lights? I don't see any lights." (Be patient!) "Alex doesn't want to be here either, Mommy. Why is he crying?" "When are we going home?" (Oh. My. God.) The questions continued to be lobbed at my ears like little missiles, broken only by the occasional complaint about bums and the quiet whimpers from the tiny toddler. Whimpers that threated to escalate into full blown screaming at any moment. And then we turned the corner and our entire front windshield exploded into light. The entire car went silent as though enveloped in a warm, magical blanket. And then one word floated breathlessly from the backseat. "Wow."

And then the backseat erupted into cheers and applause. Score!

My big four and a half year old did not stop cheering and chattering excitedly the entire drive through that park. He pointed to every display, asking me what words the lights were spelling and pointing out out the ones he thought his little brother would enjoy the most. "Look Alex, look over there, a school bus!" "Alex! A train! No, Alex, not over there- look over here, Alex, a train!"

one of my favorite displays- a snowman band!

As my husband concentrated on driving through the muddy campground with the headlights off I sank down in my seat, tears in my eyes from the joyfulness of my kids. I had really wanted this. But I had wanted it for me. I wanted to see the lights. I didn't think I really cared if my boys enjoyed it or not. They had plenty of other holiday fun going on- this drive to see lights was for me. Or so I thought. But as I squinted to see the lights through my tears I understood. I know how my husband felt when he took our big four and half year, then about three years old, to his first Cleveland Browns football game. My husband loves the Browns. And seeing his son start to feed his growing love of all things football had to have been a very special moment for him. I understood. My favorite holiday tradition, one that reminds me of great times with my own dad, was being thoroughly enjoyed by my own boys. And I learned that seeing Christmas lights through happy tears makes them look even more beautiful. 

kermit the frog made me cry

I took my big four and a half year old to see The Muppets last night. he had grabbed Froggy Frog, one of our stuffed frogs, when he got out of the car, so clearly the frog was interested in seeing the movie as well. As we waited in line to buy our tickets no fewer than three people commented on my cute little boy and mysteriously seemed to know which movie we were there to see. Finally the fourth commenter pointed to the stuffed frog in my son's arms as she said "I bet you are going to see that muppet movie." Ahhhh. people thought my big four and a half year old loved the muppets. Clearly I needed to pay closer attention.

He had never seen the muppets so I wasn't sure what I was getting myself into. But I shouldn't have worried. He loved it. he curled up in his seat and wrapped his hand around my arm, holding on to me as he laughed out loud. I know much of the movie was over his head; it was really created as a little piece of nostalgia for parents. But he got enough of it to enjoy it, and that's really the only thing that matters. So I got to see a great movie that I actually enjoyed, which is a welcome break from the cartoon pirates and dancing teenagers I am usually subjected to in my home. And my big four and a half year old got to have mommy and matthew time, which he loves. But he got a little more last night than just time with his mom and a few laughs. He also got a lesson in love.

I had told my son that I used to watch The Muppet Show every Sunday night with my dad. As we were watching the movie there were a few times that I thought to myself, "Wow, my dad would really have liked this movie." When the muppets all get together and perform the opening to their weekly show I found myself sitting in the theater with tears in my eyes. At that moment I really missed my father. I have very clear memories of watching Kermit and Gonzo with him. His favorite character was Animal, probably because he thought most drummers were already animals.And even though it has been over ten years since he has passed away I still miss him very much. He would have approved of my husband, even liked him most likely. he would have loved my boys. My big four and a half year old's interest in all things musical and all things cars would have made them instant friends. There are still so many times that I find myself wishing I could tell him some little story of my life.

So we watch the movie, and we both love it. love love love it. As I was buckling my sleepy guy into the car we had this conversation:

Me: "I really enjoyed sharing this movie with you tonight."
Him: "Why Mommy?"
Me: "Because I love to do stuff with you, kiddo."
Him: "And because you used to watch the muppet guys with your dad?"
Me: "Yes. I shared the muppets with him, and now I am sharing them with you."
Him: "Grandpa Jim would have liked that movie, Mommy."
Me: "Yes, he would have liked that movie, and he would have loved you."
Him: "I would be really sad if I could never see my daddy again."

You said it, kiddo.

no norman rockwell around this house, and THOSE ARE NOT BOO BOOS!

I don't know what goes on in your homes. I am picturing Normal Rockwellish scenes of little ones playing with wooden blocks by a roaring fire while hubby sits in his overstuffed chair reading the paper and a large non shedding dog sleeps peacefully at his feet. You, in your apron, offer your sweet husband a drink while you scoot your clean faced children to the sink to wash their hands before you all settle in at the table for a well balanced home made meal. Very little of that happens in my home, although I do frequently wear an apron...

This is what happens in my home. I overheard this conversation this morning in my bedroom. Both boys were standing on our bed, the tiny toddler wearing only a diaper. A little back story - for the past few days my little guy has been asking for band aids because he has suddenly discovered his nipples and seems to think they are boo boos. He keeps pointing to them and saying "boo boo." No amount of explaining that those are, in fact, not boo boos has done any good.

Today I gave up and walked away to brush my teeth. When I walked back into the bedroom I see my big four and a half year old has taken off his shirt and is pointing to his own nipples. "Alex, they are supposed to be there. See, I have them too." The tiny toddler is not convinced. "That?", he says, pointing to his brother's chest. ("That" is what he says when he doesn't understand something. He points to the object of his confusion and says "that?".)

"Alex, that is how God made us. These are not boo boos."

"That?"

"Alex, I told you. You are not listening. No one knows why God gave us these. No. One. Knows. They are not boo boos."

"That? Boo boo!"

"NO ALEX! NOT A BOO BOO!"

"That?"

"I DON'T KNOW WHY WE HAVE THEM ALEX! They didn't explain that in the potty video with the naked baby who dances."

At this point in their mixed up conversation I had to walk away. never in a million years would I have thought I would one day witness my son referencing the Once Upon a Potty DVD. Not once.

My big four and a half year old then walked up to me, shook his head and said "Mommy, there is no telling that kid anything."

Yes, we are very far from Norman Rockwell around here, but we certainly have a good time!

only read if you are as imperfect as I am

This new job I will be starting in September means not only more time to spend with my husband and boys, it also means changes to the family budget. It means more thoughtful grocery shopping, better planning for upcoming events and cleaning my own home. None of this is new to me. Truth be told, the only reason  I stopped doing these things was because of how much time my career was eating up. If I was going to work every day, travel overnight frequently, work weekends and evenings after my son was in bed then I was not going to waste a minute of my free time cleaning. Every moment of that free time went right to my husband and son. And it worked.

Now life is about to change again and I'm pulling out my old planning system to assure that the house, and our lives, stay in order. My system is a mixture of fly lady ,  and franklin covey with my own quirks tossed in for fun and giggles. I have often been asked about this process, which is flattering, yes. So I am going to share it. But before I do each and every one of you has to stand up, raise your right hand and swear that you will not just snag my system. In order for this to really work for you and your family, you have to make it your own. Put your personal stamp on it and off you go! Oh, and you also have to understand, I mean really understand, that my home is not perfect. Right now I am sitting in my kitchen. There is a basket of clean (and folded!) laundry sitting in the living room by the sofa. There are three pairs of little people shoes tossed on the rug by the garage door. There is a little monster truck overturned on the kitchen floor and there is a Lightening McQueen puzzle (all put together by my big four year old!) laying on the other end of the kitchen table. There is laundry sitting in the dryer and toys in the bathtub. And you don't want to even hear about the garage... So repeat after me... beth is not perfect. And to prove it - my four year old showed up at day care today dressed in a black monster truck t-shirt that is at least two sizes too big for him. And I am pretty sure he had peanut butter on his face. (that's my boy!)

To review ; beth is not perfect but has system to keep chaos in some sort of order. This allows beth to breath easily, and relax with loving husband at night in tidy living room with new favorite drink, which I am too embarrassed to tell you about right now. If you agree to all that, then you can read on.

The first step to my process is a family journal. I started with a 1 inch three ring binder and decided that it was too cumbersome and so downsized to the Franklin Covey "classic" size - much more manageable. This book hangs out on my kitchen counter, where I can refer to it frequently. Our family mission statement is front and center on the first page. A calendar sits behind the first tab. This is where I keep track of all family stuff. I tried to blend my work and family schedules once and it was truly an ugly month. Day care outings, church events, play groups, doctors appointments - you know the drill.

The next tab is menus and shopping. Weekly dinner plans and corresponding grocery lists hang out here. These menus and shopping lists are created every Saturday for the upcoming week, since I usually do the grocery shopping on Sundays. For those of you who are already thinking that I am too controlling (and we are only on tab two!), I have to say that while I select a menu for each day I don't always stick to that day when preparing dinner. I know, crazy, right? Sometimes I just throw caution to the wind and make Tuesday's dinner on Monday!

The third tab is weekly chores. This is a really important section as this is what keeps the house clean and orderly. Mainly using the fly lady system I have a morning routine:

• make beds (which is easy these days since the two year sleeps in a crib and the four year old has taken to sleeping backwards and on top of his covers every night- no need to make his bed at all!)
• swish & swipe master bath (straight from fly lady)
• start laundry ( so it never piles up!)
• unload dishwasher

The daily routine also includes a daily home blessing (another fly lady jewel) where I spend less than 10 minutes wandering through the house picking up each room- just the big stuff. On the list is also an evening routine of lunch packing and school bag assembly. The final component to my daily routine is a 15 minute clean in a different zone each day. Again, straight from fly lady. Here are my zones:

Zone 1 - bedrooms and office (dust, vacuum, change sheets)
Zone 2- master bathroom (very easy to complete because of the daily "swish & swipe")
Zone 3- boys bathroom
Zone 4- living room and dining room (dust and vacuum)
Zone 5- kitchen (counter, appliances and floor)
Zone 6- downstairs bathroom

Less than 15 minutes in each zone, one zone a day Monday through Saturday. The key to this is assuring the boys pick up all their toys every day, which we manage to complete about 80% of the time by pitting our four year old against the clock while we entertain the two year old so that he does not go behind his brother and undo all of his hard work by pulling the toys back out. This daily "beat the timer" game is the only way we have found to get the toys off the floor and into the toy box. If he beats the clock he gets to watch his night night show. If not, he goes to bed.

Other tips to keeping the house clean:

• tidy up the boys bathroom while they are in the tub. Wipe down the counter, sink and mirror, swish and swipe the toilet. The boys love to wipe down their tub when they are done. :)
• I use a dish brush that has a well for soap (so it soaps itself) to clean the shower. It hangs in the shower and I quickly clean one shower wall while the conditioner hangs out in my hair.
• Once a week I try to spend 15 minutes de-cluttering a zone. I set the timer so I don't get too involved and clean out a kitchen cupboard or under a sink.

The next tab has the contact info for all of the various doctors my family frequents. There is a tab with info for each child and one for the babysitter. Take out menus round out the back of the book.

This system works really well for my family. I like the small binder because this allows me to add information as needed, like when I have to be out of town and my husband needs to know what goes in the kid's school lunches, or when I am planning an event, such as my youngest son's upcoming baptism and welcome home luncheon. I can toss the binder in the diaper bag or my briefcase if I need to take it with me or I can stuff it into the bookshelf with the cookbooks. My husband can reference it if he needs to start dinner or check the calendar.

The final piece of this system is our individual clipboards. Each family member (minus my husband) has their very own clipboard hanging on the kitchen wall. We have all decorated our own clipboards and each is labeled with our name. This is how I keep the clutter off the kitchen counter. Everything goes on a board - all birthday party invites, play date notes, letters from other day care moms, school fee slips, sports schedules, music class info- you get the idea. the tons of paper we receive in the mail and drag home from day care every day either goes in the bill holder, to a clipboard, or in the trash. Nothing stays on the counter.

So, what systems work to keep the chaos under control in your family? I am always looking for suggestions!

taking time for tea, part II

Every parent wants to pass cherished family traditions down to their children. I am no different. When they are much, much older and settle in to a permanent loving relationship I want them to place a new "family" tree topper on the top of their Christmas tree, just as their father and I did our first Christmas together. We are still using that angel and every time I see her glowing up there on top of the tree I remember my husband telling me that we needed a new tree topper, one that held only memories of "us".

I love the fact that my four year old goes to the Cleveland Browns games with his dad and that we all go to the Indians games. We watch the games on television and both my husband and son have their favorite players they watch. Being football fans is a tradition we will share for years.

We have holiday traditions such as our elf , Fritz, who visits us every Christmas season. We celebrate Chinese New Year and Autumn Moon Festival. We have many family traditions, big and small. And one of my favorites is our tradition of taking time for iced tea. It may seem insignificant but it is huge in my book.

When I first started to date Brad we found ourselves doing all those date night things every couple does. We took in movies, plays, and even a monster truck show. We went to concerts and out to dinner. We window shopped on  Main Street, USA. And we took our time. We got to know each other over glasses of iced tea.

This "taking the time for tea" tradition did not stop when we got married. It did not stop when we added the kids to our happy union. And this tradition is already being passed on to our children.

Last Saturday Matthew, my four year old, and I hit up the weekly farmer's market in our town. This is also a tradition that just Matthew and I share, started a few years back when he was still a little one in a stroller. Now that he is older he still looks forward to this weekly visit. We walk up and down the streets, taking in the colorful fruits and veggies at each stand. We discuss our planned purchases and what we should bring home to Daddy and then we make our selections. Matthew helps me select the very best looking corn or strawberries, he talks to the farmer's, hands over the money, checks out the tractors and wagons. Sometimes he even carries the bag, until it gets too heavy and he hands it back to me. Sometimes we see people we know from church or daycare, and he is always so happy to stop and chat with a friend of mommy's. I love these weekly excursions and miss them when our schedule can't accommodate them. This past week we had to run an errand after visiting the market and so in between we stopped for iced tea.

We sat side by side in the booth, both of us drinking iced tea, cooling off from the very sunny, very hot walk through the farmer's market. We talked about our fruit and veggie purchases and all of the sights at the market. We talked about how pre-school is going and about Mommy's new job. We talked about how things were going with Alex's transition into our family and about Matthew's plans to see a Cleveland Indian's game with Daddy the next day. We talked about the dog we plan to get next Spring. We talked about his friends and his China play group. We talked about his birthday. (This is a favorite topic of my son's. Even though his birthday is seven months away and there are numerous holidays to celebrate before his birthday he still wants to discuss his birthday party, in detail, every chance he gets.) We talked. And drank our iced tea.

I want my sons to understand the importance of being still. I want them to be able to slow down, to stop running from one activity to another and just "be" with someone. I want them to enjoy the little moments in between the big moments. I want them to always be able to stop and take the time for tea.

Prior to traveling to Russia to bring our youngest son into our family I was given a very special book as a gift. "The Three Questions", based on a story by Leo Tolstoy, is a beautiful story about the importance of living in the moment. The basic theme of the book is that the most important moment is the one you are in right now, the most important person is the one you are with, right now, and the most important thing you could do is whatever you can do for the person you are with, right now. This is easier said than done. There is no room in this "taking time for tea" moments for taking cell calls or checking email. There is just time for "being".

Hopefully when my kids are older they will continue to tell me what's on their mind. Hopefully they will always have the time to take for tea with Mom. Hopefully they will have learned, at the bent elbow of their iced tea drinking parents, the importance of celebrating those little moments, every day.

my baby was on a merry go round high

My boys and I spent a few days at Cedar Point this past holiday weekend and we had an amazing time. My oldest son has been asking to go to a beach for about a year now so that was our first stop. Armed with shovels, pails and new beach towels we hit the sand. Matthew had a great time playing in the water and suddenly had no fear. Which really made it very clear that we need to get that boy back into swimming lessons so he can get it together and finally learn to stay afloat in the water. The 24 month old enjoyed sitting in the sand and filling his bucket. He also seemed to enjoy flinging the sand at Mommy. He did not enjoy the water. He was content sitting in my arms as I walked into the water but all attempts to set him down anywhere near the water caused loud shrieks. Overall, the beach was a big hit. Our oldest son was over the moon excited about finally getting to play in the sand and water, and watching his smile was all the thank you I needed!

The next day we headed to the amusement park. I spent the day pushing the little guy in the stroller and talking him down off his merry go round high. For a baby who has never been on an amusement park ride before in his life he certainly took to the carousel. Total addiction after the first ride.

While my husband took our older son on every kiddie ride in the park I had a lot of time to think. The circle of life can really be found at Cedar Point.

My family didn't do the amusement park thing so I didn't get to Cedar Point until Junior High, when the High School marching band would go every year.

I remember...

• watching my close friend Victor attempt to push a straw into a Capri Sun, shortly after they first hit the market. One minute he was wearing a clean t-shirt and punching the pouch with the straw and the next minute he was covered in red juice.
• squeezing with a huge number of my friends into the recording studio to record our version of "We Are the World". How old does that make me sound?

There were many years after high school where I didn't go to amusement parks, really. Then I met my husband. When we first met he was quite a roller coaster fanatic and a dedicated Cedar Point season pass holder. Our first summers together found me:

• breathing slowly to calm myself down while on the Big Wheel so my new boyfriend didn't realize I was petrified.
• standing in the long lines for the roller coasters, only to take that "walk of shame" through the car to the other side and down the stairs. I didn't ride very many of the coasters, but I waited in line for every one of them. I logged many hours keeping my boyfriend company. At first I was worried that he was going to think I was crazy for not wanting to ride these rides, but my fear won out. Instead of thinking I was crazy we had some of our best conversations in those lines.
• riding the Mine Ride, a terribly small little coaster that still scared me, while my boyfriend talked me through it and grabbed my hands so that I had to raise my arms over my head, screaming and laughing.
• being talked through a panic attack while waiting up in the air on the Power Tower. I knew the quick, gut wrenching drop was coming and I was totally freaking out. My patient boyfriend made good use of the 22 seconds we were suspended above the park to point out the sights. I remember thinking "shut up, just SHUT UP!". But once I was safely on the ground I appreciated his thoughtfulness.

I married that boyfriend and now we have two small children. When I go with my young family to Cedar Point it is like I am walking through an entirely different park. Gone is the fear of looking stupid. Gone is the anxiety of the roller coasters. Partly because I am older and wiser and no longer care so much about what other people think. But mainly because I now have two little ready made reasons why I can't ride. So now my trip looks like this...

• hanging out on the carousel, eventually standing next to every horse while my son hangs on to the pole and blows kisses to his horse.
• riding the train with a son on each knee.
• acting like a responsible adult, forcing mandatory rest periods, reapplying sunscreen, and handing out water to all my boys, including my husband.
• barely being able to walk after stupidly taking the 24 month old on the kiddie tilt a whirl. How they even let us on this ride is beyond me. My little guy seemed to enjoy it. I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to recover.
• explaining to my 4 year old why he would be better off simply buying a guitar at WalMart rather than try to win one of the midway games.
• watching my sons have the time of their lives.
• watching my husband, who  used to plan our days at the park down to the minute and was sure to hit every thrill ride, have the time of his life watching his sons enjoying something so close to his heart.

So I have been to the park through many seasons of my life, and i have to say that this current season is, so far, my favorite.

a new generation learning the joys of amusement park fun!

is there ever a time when everything just stands still?

I know I am not alone when I say that time is moving too fast. And it's more than just the fact that son recently turned four years old, although that is a big part of it, I suspect. Maybe it's because I missed the first 15 months of his young life, or maybe every mother feels this way when her little ones start to grow up and test their independence. I don't know. I walked into the gym at church last week to pick up my son and he was playing catch with a small football. He was actually throwing the ball to a friend, who was throwing it back. Another afternoon I arrived at daycare just as he was heading to the bathroom. "You wait outside, Mommy", he said. "I can do this by myself." What? I don't know why I was so shocked. After all, he uses the bathroom by himself at home all the time. But sometimes he still needs help. Sometimes he still needs me. And usually, when he does, I am slightly annoyed as I head to the bathroom to meet his current demand. Because I know he can do this on his own. But watching him take charge of this at school, with his teacher waiting outside the bathroom- not even outside the stall, but outside the bathroom, I was suddenly smacked in the face by his growing independence. Sometimes I look at him and wonder, "who is this kid?"

Yes, time is moving too quickly for me. At a time in my life when my career should be somewhat stable- I'm 40 years old, have a pre-schooler and another toddler on the way - my work life is absolutely crazy. For two years I have held this position and assumed that once I was truly entrenched in my work it would calm down. I now know that it will never calm down. In fact, I can't even assume that this is the busiest I will ever be. Which is terrifying. There are weeks that I find myself lying in bed on Friday night wondering what happened that week. How did a week with such a promising start spiral down so quickly? Did I really spend half of my work week on the telephone? (Think about that. That is 20 hours, at least...) Did I really work every evening after my little guy was tucked into bed, thinking it would propel me forward, helping me to keep my head above water? Then why do I feel like I am drowning all the time?

Time that used to stand still has also picked up speed lately. As a younger person I assumed my parents would be around forever. When I lost my father in my late twenties, I revised that assumption, but only slightly. After all, my mother was still very young. Even when she was living with Alzheimer's Disease and I was fielding her many daily calls and traipsing around Grove City doing her shopping- a slave to her endless shopping lists- I still felt as though time was standing still. Then she suddenly died. And before I could even blink time had rocketed forwarded and I was standing in that same funeral home, in that same room, saying goodbye to another parent.

Now there are phone calls to make for her estate, a home to clean out and sell, a missing bed to find at her assisted living. There are bills to pay and organizations to notify. There are doctor appointments and documents to dig up for our second adoption. There is shopping to do and room to get ready. Good Lord, there are suitcases from our recent trip overseas to begin the adoption process that still need unpacked. I think we might even still have a suitcase from China to unpack. We came home and hit the ground running as a newly formed family. In between bottles and surgeries and doctor appointments and day care and bonding there simply wasn't time to unpack. That suitcase belongs to us "pre matthew", and I barely remember who I was "pre matthew".

And there is life. Careers and family obligations and baths and bedtime and whole foods cooking and weekly planning and getting to the gym and writing thank you notes and keeping up with older aunts and facebook....

Is there ever a time when everything just stands still? Is there ever a time when a person can just breath and get her bearings about her?

I don't know about you, but I am thinking that my time to breath may just be when we bring our second son home. Having stepped away from work at that point for a few months, I might just be able to relax, breath, and ignore the entire world. The death certificate demands, the endless work phone calls, the suitcases that will need unpacked... I will be able to push aside all the noise, and focus on what is really important. My new little guy, my older son, and my husband. And I can't wait.

budha's hands

Matthew and I said a sleepy goodbye to Daddy this morning as he headed up to Cleveland for the football game. After too many rounds of Uno to count we finally got dressed and left the house. Our first stop; Whole Foods Market. I love it when we have lots of time to wander around- I think that may be one of my favorite stores. Matthew had a great time choosing his bananas and watermelon slices and he learned the joys of tasting the treats in those see through globes spread throughout the store. He tasted apple and pineapple and three different kinds of cheese, and after each bite I handed him he politely said "thank you very much" to me in Chinese. Today was a good Chinese language day- he used his new words and phrases all day, something I can usually not get him to do.

We found a new fruit- "budha's hands". Have not tasted it yet, but I think it is some sort of citrus.

isn't it amazing looking? You can't find that at Giant Eagle... Our quest to try new foods and to make them all healthy is off to a great start this week.

We shared lunch at the market and then headed to the park, where my little guy had more fun tossing leaves in the air than playing on the slides and ladders. And I got a great walk in.  Now he is asleep in Mommy and Daddy's bed, surrounded by toy catalogues and his stuffed baby animals. It has been a great day so far. There was one moment in the wine aisle when we encountered a family dressed entirely in Steelers clothes. I held my breath as Matthew pointed at them and loudly stated that "we don't like the Steelers." The young boy sporting the Steelers shirt replied "We don't like the Browns!" And both of us mom's quickly steered our carts in opposite directions.

my little Brown's fan

how much yummy apple walnut crisp must I make before I stop breaking my toes on this basket full of apples?

Sitting on the floor of my kitchen is a large round basket with a heavy handle. It looks like an Easter basket for a giant- the thing is huge. I cannot even remember where I got it. I use it when I am taking food to parties - makes me feel very Martha Stewartish. This is the basket we used to pick apples- it was perfect. It was easy for Matthew to run up and down the aisles of trees hanging heavy with apples and then run back to drop his catch in the basket. This basket has been sitting on my kitchen floor since we got home from apple picking, sometime last month. I have slowly been using the apples- cutting them up for Matthew and I to share as an after work snack, making pies and apple crisp for Brad, creating yummy apple bread... Mainly what I have been doing with this basket is tripping over it. Daily. Now that the weather is turning colder I might have to put the basket and the remaining apples in the garage so more toes aren't broken. The problem with that, though, is if we don't see, or trip over, the basket every day then we will forget to eat the apples. And a large basket of mushy apples is not what I want to accidentally come across while out in the garage searching for trash bags or a lost boot. The basket will stay on the kitchen floor until it is empty. And I will remember the beautiful sunny day our little family went apple picking every time I slam my toes into it.

A few nights ago I created an apple walnut crisp with these apples and a few other items I had on hand. Some of you have asked for the recipe, which didn't exist  until I was tossing items in the bowl. It was yummy though- hard to go wrong with brown sugar and oats!

Ingredients:
 4 large apples, peeled and chopped
unsalted butter
brown sugar
oats (I used steel cut but any kind would be good, I would imagine.)
walnuts, chopped.
honey
cinnamon, to taste
nutmeg, to taste

I have no measurements because I truly just tossed the ingredients together. Toss chopped apples, approximately 2 tablespoons of brown sugar, honey (to coat), and spices together in a bowl, set aside. In a separate bowl mix oats, walnuts, brown sugar and spices together. Add enough melted butter to make a crumble. I use a bread pan for this recipe, which is one of my favorite cooking tools- I use this pan to make meatloaf, bread, apple crisp... Push half of the crumble into the bottom of the greased pan. Add the apple mixture on top. At this point you might need to drizzle honey over the apple mixture, if the apples are not juicy enough on their own. Add the remaining crumble on top. Bake in pre-heated oven at 350 degrees for 45 minutes, or until the apples are cooked to your desired mushiness. I like them a little crisp still, which is about 40 to 45 minutes.

This is an easy recipe to alter- you can toss in dried cranberries or another fruit. You can make one large crisp or small individual ones. And of course, topping with vanilla ice cream or home made whip cream is always yummy!

football, fish, and fun

The Wilkison's had a great weekend! We took Matthew apple picking, something he has looked forward to since we went last year. Last year before we visited the orchard Matthew rarely ate apples, except for applesauce. He simply would not try a fresh one. He did, however, enjoy practicing picking the apples off the tree- even as a two year old he had a great imagination. Last year he grabbed an apple and sat right now on the grass to eat it. Ever since then he has been perfecting his love of all things apple. He has been bouncing around the house for weeks, unable to contain his enthusiasm for his upcoming apple picking trip. This year he was a tad more scientific about his fruit. He helped me put the bag in the large handled basket we brought and he carefully selected which grove of trees to head towards. He took his time choosing which apples would make it into his basket. And he found exactly the right one to eat right then.

We picked out the perfect pumpkin and headed to lunch. We went to City BBQ and did our normal routine - Matthew and Brad sat down and I went up to order. There was no line so I wasn't gone that long but by the time I found my way back to my boys the two of them had taken nearly every item out of the old diaper bag back pack that we  now use for sippy cups and extra underwear. The table was full of match box cars, monster trucks, wipes, sunscreen, and a very old and long forgotten bag of apple dippers from McDonald's. Yuck. They had also found a small tin of peanut butter cups that Brad's mother gave him last time we were in Cleveland and so were already eating dessert. sigh...

After lunch we walked around Easton and hit up the book store. We were looking for a foreign language book but instead came away with two books for Matthew. Typical, right? The good news is that the long walk around the outdoor mall helped push me towards my goal of 8,000 steps. What an awesome excuse to head to Easton!

Saturday night brad built a cozy fire in the backyard fire pit and the three of us played football. Our little guy is quickly becoming a fast runner! At one point in the game Brad threw the ball to me while Matthew was heading towards me at top speed, head down, ready to take me out. I threw the ball back to Brad to avoid being knocked down by my three year old. Imagine my surprise when on Sunday I saw the Cleveland Browns execute nearly the exact same play!

Sadly, when Brad left the backyard to take Matthew up to bed I somehow managed to kill his beautiful fire. Little did I know how he would retaliate...

Yesterday we visited Mom, who didn't seem to remember that earlier in the week she hung up on me in her anger over my cancelling her dentist appointment to "fit my schedule". I didn't cancel any appointments. I tried to explain to her that I did not know why she had the appointment on her calendar, but she slammed the phone down before I got the chance. Yesterday she was in a great mood, happily listening to her grandson share his apple picking story. She then asked why we hadn't brought her any apples. I have not one memory of that woman eating an apple. the whole process of Alzheimer's Disease is amazing to me. My mother used to hate coffee, most fruits, especially berries, and Chinese food. In the past year I have seen her eat all of those things. When I asked her about these changes in her tastes she insists that she has always eaten them. Kind of makes me think I am the one with the memory issues...

Despite spending hours making a Thanksgiving-like meal and watching an amazing football game, the highlight of Sunday came when Brad accidentally poured Matthew's fish, Stuart, down the drain. My boys headed up to the bathtub while I cleaned up the kitchen. Here is what I hear: laughter and water splashing, then Brad's slightly panicked voice asking me if I can come upstairs, right now. By the time I hit the top of the stairs he is asking for tweezers. I am picturing a huge splinter in Matthew's hand or something even worse, when Brad tells me that Stuart is in the drain. Oh. My. God.

By the time I find the tweezers and race to the bathroom Matthew is out of the tub, covered in soapy bubbles, trying to climb up to the sink to see what Daddy is doing with his fish. Long story short- Daddy worked on that sink for quite some time but in the end we found ourselves explaining that Stuart was most likely heading towards the ocean. Like Nemo. Of course, Matthew was appropriately saddened at the loss of his fishy friend, until he decided that he will name his next fish "Peeps". And no, I do not know why.

When I think about my weekend the pictures that jump into my head are my smiling little guy jumping up and down picking apples and running back to drop them, one by one, in the basket. I see the table at lunch covered with the entire contents of the backpack. I see the look on my son's face as he races towards me with determination in his eyes during our backyard football game. I see the look on my husband's face when he walks back onto the patio and sees that his once blazing fire has cooled to softly glowing embers. And I will always remember my husband and I sitting on the sofa after tucking Matthew into bed, trying not to laugh at the thought of poor little Stuart slipping down the drain. They say these are the moments we will always remember!