Jackisms

Jack never stops talking.  He never stops talking, never stops moving, and requires very little sleep to keep it all going. He has been heard more than once to scream in the car because "we won't let him talk!"  Don't be confused,he is welcome to join the conversation, but what he really wants is an opportunity to monologue.  Jack is also the foremost authority on anything and if you don't agree with him, he is sure it is simply because he hasn't said it loud enough.  Jack gives driving directions all the time.  The fact that he doesn't drive, can't read and doesn't know is irrelevant. Jack likes to be in charge and he has to know what is going on.  An answer of "I don't know." will bring him to his knees as he is convinced we are conspiring to keep him in the dark.  He is still at an age that can only imagine the world he himself has witnessed and experienced.  Everything else is the stuff of fairy tales.

Recent discussions I want to be sure I remember when I am ancient include.....  We have booked a Disney Cruise for next spring.  Jack was sharing in the car one day how much he wanted to go back to Disney World.  Brianna in a somewhat rare moment of sisterly love started telling Jack how much he would love the Disney boat.  Jack began to fall apart.  "We will have no place to sleep.  we can't take food for everyone.  Mickey's head will not fit in the boat!"  No amount of discussion could convince him this boat was bigger than our ski boat.  I guess he'll just have to wait and see.

A girl at the pool busted her nose and there was lots of blood but "The ambulance came and wiped her up."  The pool has been the location of several stories this summer.  Most have to do with Jack and a little friend from Lucy's class.  One day I heard him yelling "watch me"  I turned and called back "I'm watching" "Not you Mama, her."  This as he points out the cute girl in the butterfly swimsuit.  This same girl is 5 going on 20 and is just as sure she is right as Jack.  One day we were watching clouds roll in as we played in the pool and she decided the time had come for the lifeguards to blow their whistles and get everyone out.  She discussed it with Jack whom of course disagreed and then headed to the lifeguard stand to be a voice of storm warning.  Jack followed screaming at her. 

Sunday, Jack was told to stop helping the dog chew.  He was in his sister's rooms and when they yelled to get out, responded "I'm not even naked!"  And finally he came to tell us he thought Lucy had played in poop because "I smelled her door."  I really never know what this child will do next.  At least it will be loud so I can keep up with him.  As Brian said the other night as Jack was beating us to a pulp in his sleep after he joined us during a storm. "God bless his future wife."  Amen.

No More Bad Moms

One of my guilty pleasures is haunting the disboards late at night.  The disboards are an online discussion group of all things Disney.  Everything from room discounts to the best place to stay before a cruise can be found here.  I find the practice of flaming particularly interesting.  Flaming is slicing down a fellow disboarder for some perceived difference of opinion; often things as innocuous as the value of an over the door shoe organizer for storing trinkets in your hotel room, or the appropriateness of crocs for children's footwear.  From an online reading point of view this can be mildly humorous, but really it is just a small version of what I witness many times a week in the "real world".
I was a college student at the height of the Mommy Wars.  The eighties had preached the virtue of having it all and assured us moms could both break the glass ceiling of business and raise great kids. "We could bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan". The daughters of that church found maybe that wasn't really the case.  As we floundered to discover what our own futures would look like it often became an all out battle between working and stay at home moms.  It was late night fodder in sorority house hallways and senior seminars alike.  Talk shows, books and magazines kept the skirmishes going.  We may have proclaimed our position proudly,but underneath, most women I know were constantly second guessing choices and always feeling like they had short changed someone.  Self heaped guilt was plentiful.  At the end of the day,few people felt like "good moms."
As I have aged, the Mommy Wars over work and home seem to have calmed.  I know a few women that are truly work over family dedicated.  I know a few very traditional stay at home moms, but most fall somewhere in between.  I have lots of friends and acquaintances that work part time or job share.  Plenty of people that took jobs with hours that fit their kids schedules or agree to work different shifts from their husbands so childcare is not an issue.  Lots of families with grandparents involved to make it all run smoothly.  It would seem that should be enough.  It isn't.  Maybe women are just destined to second guess ourselves, but instead of dealing with our own feelings of guilt, we seem to have decided as a gender to "flame" those around us.  Yes, we as women are busy burning down the people around us.  Don't get me wrong, there really are some bad parents in the world.  Heaven knows I watch kids walk into church every week whose parents don't know or care where they are.  I see kids at school that have no help with homework or even a hot meal outside of what school provides.  There are kids whose parents in the name of work have completely left them to the care of others and stay at home moms whom never let their kids see the light of day.  But for most of us, we are berating our fellow moms for things that just don't matter.
I watch and hear it all the time.  The mom that sits in the cheer parking lot during a closed practice "just in case"  That's fine as long as she doesn't make other moms feel bad for not doing the same thing.  I once threatened to wear a shirt to practice saying "I was at home all day, where were you?"  My balance has me at home all day,but I use practice time to run errands.  If you worked all day, but want to be with your child at practice, can't we agree that both of us are supporting our child and this is not bad parenting?  What about food??  I really try to feed my kids healthy food, but I have one that never eats protein.  If the best I can do that day is reece cups with 5 grams of protein each, please accept you have no idea what we deal with instead of commenting on candy for lunch.  In exchange, I promise to keep my thoughts on blue applesauce and orange cheetos to myself. How about a peace treaty?
Let's agree that there really are some bad parents out there.  And we need to call them on it.  We need to get those kids some help.  Let's agree that safety is a valid reason to speak up. How about we trust that parents know their own children and can make the best choices for their individual child (and it may not be what's best for yours). Let's agree that making a different choice for my child does not mean your choice is wrong. Let's agree it is okay to teach our kids our family values even if they disagree with yours.  And then lets agree to stop flaming those around us for making different amoral choices.
I am sure I have plenty of guilt to share here, but I am declaring a truce.  It is time to call the truly bad parents what they are but for most of the world, please let us keep our guilt on ourselves and give everyone else a break.  Time to douse the flames and end the war.

Pickles

 

We love to make pickles.  I have serious space in the garden dedicated to cucumbers and we will still get more from the Mennonites down the road.  We love to make them because we love to eat them.  My kids think they are a side dish instead of a condiment.  Brianna is almost the sole eater of the dill, but she goes through at least 6 pints a year.  Jack and Lucy eat the above bread and butter.  I am almost embarrassed to say it takes over 20 pints to keep them in the green.  I do more pickles than applesauce.  The dill have a nice grey green color.  Very clear and sharp.  The bread and butter have a brilliant yellow green.  I love the look of the contrast on the counter.  Of course the smell as they are cooking is excellent for clearing any sinus problems one might have.

Hamburger Dill Chips

4 lbs 4 inch cucumbers (curby’s work great)

6 Tblsp canning salt

4 1/2 cups water

4 cups vinegar

14 heads fresh dill (1hd= 2tsp dill seed)

3 1/2 tsp mustard seed

14 peppercorns

Wash cucumbers; drain. Cut cucumbers into 1/4 inch slices. Combine salt water and vinegar in saucepan and bring to a boil.  Pack cucumbers into hot jars leaving a 1/4 inch head space.  Really shove them in.  You should get about 7 pints.  To each jar add 2 heads of dill (I use the seeds) 1/2 tsp mustard seeds and 2 peppercorns (do not use ground pepper- it muddies the brine and tastes funny)  Ladle hot brine over cucumbers leaving 1/4 inch head space.  Adjust lids and bands and process in a hot water canner for 15 minutes.  The pickles will not be ready to eat for at least 6 weeks.

Bread and Butter Pickles

4 lbs 4-6 inch cucumbers cut into 1/4 inch slices

2 lbs onions thinly sliced (remember you eat the onions as well so don’t cut too small)

Layer the cucumbers and onions with 1/3 cup canning salt and cover with ice cubes or very cold water.  Let stand for 1 1/2 hours.  Drain rinse drain again. 

In a large saucepan, combine and bring to a boil

2 cups sugar

2 Tblsp mustard seeds

2 tsp tumeric

2 tsp celery seed

1 tsp ginger

1 tsp peppercorns

3 cups vinegar.

Add the drained cucumber and onions and return to a boil.  Pack hot pickles and liquid into hot jars (it will make about 7 pints)  Leave 1/4 inch headspace.  Adjust lids and bands.  Process for 10 minutes in a boiling water canner.  ( it takes less processing time than dills because the entire product was hot going into the jars)  Wait several weeks before enjoying.

Camp 2011

 

As usual, I have so much more to say on my lessons from camp, but I know I have a few anxiously awaiting pictures so I guess they are coming first.  I was really blessed to take 10 wonderful young girls.  I promise to only believe part of what they said about their parents.  The taller girl in the center was our cabin leader.  I know plenty of people will argue with me, but I can’t help but believe we all need a week or so a year where we leave all the technology and distractions behind and just enjoy,  God, nature and each other.

Hadley won at limbo.

 

We played this same game in the Delta Gamma front yard.

Cousin M listens patiently and with great trust as Hadley gives direction.  This is not a game for me!

Papa John and O’Shea must be doing something right.  Hadley danced and sang the whole week.  She even led such activities.  For those of you whom think Baptist’s don’t dance, a very sweet woman from our church once called it “the spiritual wiggle”.  Dance a way.

We had 2 days of monsoon rains and a night of tornado warnings.

So we did a lot of crafts.

This is teamwork at its best.  This is a huge teeter totter.

Organized Mass Chaos.  This was an awesome game of wet sponges, hula hoops, Shaving cream, cheetos, toilet paper and assorted crazy antics.  A good time was had by all.

The missionaries were fabulous as usual.  We learned all about Kenya including trying on clothing and jewelry.

As some of you know, we struggled as a group last year to get the cooperation pennant.  Struggle would be putting it mildly.  This year, we left with a solid goal in place to be good sports, kind and generous campers and helpful to others. Even their leader needed a few reminders.  We did it!!  Even on the days only a few cabins were chosen, we still got the cooperation award.  I am sure a few well timed notes of encouragement from our older praying ladies at home helped.

From Aunt Mary's Bookshelf

I have spent the last few days pouring over a 1969 Ball Blue Book that undoubtedly came from my great Aunt Mary's kitchen shelf.  I have an up to date canning guide, but this has made for awesome reading for a food anthropology geek like myself.  I have learned the difference between a catchup and a sauce; how many jars it will take to can an 800lb steer (175-200); the proper way to can broccoli, even though as it states "It will discolor and take on a very strong taste."  I now know my 3 berry jam is actually a conserve.  And finally, if I want to feed my family for a year I need 252 quarts of tomatoes or juice, 400 plus cans of assorted fruits and vegetables and at least 52 quarts of pickles.  This is only part of the list.  It should be noted that according to the USDA at the time, you only need can for 36 weeks of eating as fresh foods should be available the other 16 weeks.  I don't think fast food was counted in here.  My favorite recipe was on the last page.

How to Preserve a Husband

Be careful in your selection.  Do not choose too young.  When selected, give your entire thoughts to preparation for domestic use. Some wives insist upon keeping them in a pickle, others are constantly getting them into hot water.  This may make them sour, hard and sometimes bitter; even poor varieties may be made sweet, tender and good, by garnishing them with patience, well sweetened with love and seasoned with kisses.  Wrap them in a mantle of charity.  Keep warm with a steady fire of domestic devotion and serve with peaches and cream.  Thus prepared, they will keep for years.

Bending Low

I have a serious issue with words and images.  They stick with me.  Great if one is taking a test, not so great if it's a horror movie and bed.  I am extremely cautious about the shows and movies I watch and even the books I read.  One of Brian's first "leader of our home" acts was to throw away the book I was reading on our honeymoon- it was giving me nightmares.  Sometimes this little quirk is funny.  Brian and Michael love to look at me when someone is reminiscing about a moment in time and ask "What were you wearing?"  Sad but true, I usually know.  Other times, it becomes a tool the devil uses to beat me up over and over again.
I spend alot of time doing jobs that many people think are beneath them.  Sometimes I even fall short at those goals.  And when the dishes don't get finished, or the kids are acting awful, I hear those voices.  "You are a bad mother.  You are a bad wife.  You are the problem."  Long after someone has apologized they are the images that wake me in the night.  When I volunteer at school, or clean up poop yet again I hear that voice "Any idiot can wash paint trays."  Individuals said them once, but  the devil whispers them in my ear repeatedly, so that the seeds of discontentment swell and push forth a garden of weeds yelling back at God and others "Haven't I done enough? You are asking too much.  Why doesn't anyone appreciate what I am doing here?"  And my pride takes root and it quickly becomes all about me.  Like any good gardener, God knows that weeds have to be rooted out and sometimes that is hard.  In their place, you have to fill in something good or the weeds will move back.  Just as I turn the channel on CSI, and fill the space with a comedy I have to fill my mind with God and reminders that I really haven't been asked to bend so low.  That I am barely bending when I should probably be kneeling at the throne of glory. 
If you aren't reading www.kissesfromkatie.blogspot.com begin immediately.  She is a wonderful reminder of the call and privilege to bend low.

The Day the Refridgerator sort of, almost,but not really Died

Yesterday I woke up a few minutes after six with a splitting headache (stress related, but that's another story).  Brian had already left for work and I was desperately seeking excedrin.  I could hear a terrible sound coming from the kitchen.  I stumbled blindly, groping in the cabinet for that blessed green bottle and patting myself on the back for setting the coffee pot the night before.  The sound, half screech half grinding motor seemed to be beating on the outside of my head as hard as the tension was pounding the inside.  Still waiting for the drug caffeine cocktail to kick in, I started checking around the fridge.  The sound was definitely coming from the back of it.  I go get Lucy who is up despite the fact she never gets up before 6:30 even on school days.  She keeps patting her ear at the terrible sound.  Jack comes down stairs holding his ears.  I keep laying hands on the fridge in hopes it will still be cold.  I alert Brian to the possible appliance emergency.  In the meantime, I start working on forms for camp.  I call Ky WMU to get a fax number.  I drink more coffee.  I assure Lucy for the hundredth time we will be going to the pool.  I try to track down the minister and Brian or Ivan to get signatures on camp forms.  I read a stack of picture books.  The sound continues to drone and I am near panic.  I drink more coffee.  At this point it seems more efficient to drink while sitting in the bathroom.  If I can do this and read to Lucy and help Jack with math and finish printing camp forms I might get it all done.  Make blueberry smoothies for breakfast. Finally, I get Jack and Lucy in the car.  I head out to pick Brianna and Hadley up from friends.  I stop at the office.  Track down the minister in town.  Run in Dollar General for bread. While in DG I remind the clerk her daughter hasn't turned in her forms for camp. "What forms? What camp? When?"  I assure her I will bring her forms. Pick up the girls by a few minutes after nine.  Rush back to the office to get forms notarized and faxed.  Discuss with Brian the imminent danger of the fridge death.  Fly back home to pack up for the pool.  As we enter, the house is eerily silent.  Sure of the worst I run to the fridge.  It feels cold.  Kim is a lovely lady that comes on Monday to help with laundry.  She is humming as she sorts clothes.  I am frantic.  "Did you hear the noise?  How long has it been down?"  Kim answered calmly "I did hear that noise.  I looked around the fridge and found a magnetic toy on the side.  I think the toy's battery had died.  I just turned it off."  Maybe I need more caffeine.

Artichoke Chicken

2-3 pounds chicken breasts
1/4-1/2 cup Parmesan cheese
garlic, salt and pepper to taste
1 large can artichoke hearts or 2 of the glass jars (chop or tear into pieces)
1 jar sun dried tomato Alfredo sauce. (If you have to, mix Alfredo with marinara)
2 cups mozzarella cheese shredded

Layer the ingredients in the order listed, leaving off the mozzarella cheese.  Bake covered at 375 for 45 minutes.  Uncover and sprinkle with the mozzarella cheese.  Bake an additional 15-20 minutes or until the chicken breast are done.  There is huge variation in the cook time of this dish based on the kind of chicken you use.  Be sure to check for doneness.  Serve with angel hair pasta and or wilted spinach.

Read to Me

The sound of Brian's voice is one of my favorite things in the world.  I love to hear him say my name.  I love the way he thinks and describes things, so it stands to reason I love to hear him read.  My sister once said she would marry on the spot a man that gave her a dozen sharpened pencils, for me it is a man with a book, or an ipad in this case.  We are what our environment has made us and mine made me a reader.  My mom read more books than I can count.  My dad read us Robert the Rose Horse complete with the big ACHOOOS!!  more times than he would like to count.  Mam-ma Read us Lyle Lyle Crocodile and Alexander and the Wind up Mouse.  I bought these for my kids and was shocked at how long they were.  I can't believe she read these so many afternoons despite her to do list.  Dad says he remembers one of us girls asking Pap-pa to read as he was headed out the door to milk or plow tobacco and he turned around, set down his hat and read the book.  That is some serious love.  I don't have to remember that exact moment to know that a farmer really loves you when he pauses work in the middle of the day to read There's a Monster at the End of This Book.  Pap-pa had this funny chuckle of a laugh and I can still see and hear him as we moved through Grover's antics, as if each reading was a surprise.  He and my grandmother spent hours sitting in their chairs in the living room reading the assortment of periodicals and farm journals that piled up on the floor.  Last night Brian sat in his recliner, I sat rocking in my antique chair.  Brian scanned articles on the ipad about the economy, the national debt, the causes of inflation. He shared paragraphs and quotes he found interesting.  Interrupted my own thoughts with deep questions about one writer or another's opinion. I perused my old fashioned magazines and answered back with funny stories or a picture of grilled romaine and a fact about bananas.  We savored the presence of each other and the sound of our voices dripping with humor and love. (alright that's his mind, we all know mine drips with sarcasm) Two minds, that as we read ,get to think and enjoy together.  I will never tire of being read to.  It worked for my grandparents for 60 years.  I think we'll keep it up.

Memorial Day 2011

 

This year was plenty warm enough to enjoy the lake in May.  It is 24 feet above summer pool, so the docks are impossible to get to, but Brian and Michael managed by putting the boat in and taking it out each day.  The swim deck (which is the way into the boat from the water) broke at the end of last summer.  Brian and I are so scattered, it never occurred to us to get it fixed until, you guessed it- May.  We went anyways.  Getting out is easy, but to get in you had to hoist yourself onto the tube, get your body weight pulled up and then balance on the tube while throwing yourself/ climbing into the boat.  We tried to make sure no other boats were coming by as I am sure this is what beached whales look like.  They may be more graceful.

Jack shows us how it’s done.

Learning to swim.

Jack and Uncle Michael are so cool.

Lucy loves the boat.  She loves to go fast and feel the wind in her hair, and listen to Daddy sing.

My Lords and Ladies

 

As a finish to Brianna’s unit on Medieval Europe, we attended the Tennessee Renaissance Festival.  Very interesting.  We toured a castle and watched jousting.  The music was excellent.  It was not a wheelchair friendly place leaving us to consider getting a jogging stroller for such excursions.  And, we saw a lot of really weird people.  I was unaware this was a lifestyle choice.  Very fun.  We concluded with a trip to Cock of the Walk.  Hadley is not intentionally excluded from  pictures, she was just in another mood.  She is one middle child that will never get lost in the shuffle.

Lucy, like Hadley, struggles to express herself.  Interesting fact- this was the castle in a Taylor Swift video.

Fried pickles can help anyone’s attitude.  Jack ate his weight in them.

Not sure if Mama or Lucy is more nervous when we try to take a picture like this.

Dawn’s Graduation

 

I had to include this shot as it is truly a snapshot of our lives.  Here we have our sweet angel Dawn, all grown up and graduating from WKU.  Doesn’t she look beautiful!!  Brianna is also looking very grown up.  You can read the mischief on Jack’s face.  Lucy is being carried as usual.  Hadley is refusing to participate or smile as her way of expressing her dislike for Dawn’s boyfriend.  Please Hadley, don’t hold anything back.  And then of course there is my eye.  I have no idea how Dawn put up with us for 3 years, but we love her for it.  Congratulations!

The Lottery

At a business dinner this week, the conversation, as it often does among agrarian based business people, turned to feeding the world.  After the usual banter about the challenges of ethanol vs feeding corn to people etc, someone looked at our congealing leftovers of grilled asparagus, steaks and scallops and pointed out how just being born in America was like winning the lottery.  That our children had really won the lottery.  It is a comment we have heard before, and one that we always find uncomfortable. Brian and I always share a knowing glance; it is not them, but us that won the lottery.  In a world where plenty of infertile couples struggle with an unfilled kitchen table, and failed adoptions break hearts every day, we have four precious faces around our table, in the rear view mirror, and climbing into our bed during storms.  We are the lucky ones.
But like most lottery recipients, we sometimes wonder if we haven't squandered our win.  Like the instant millionaires who scoff at investment advice only to seek out a broker when they are down to a few thousand.  "Can't you help me make this more??"  The years that seemed to stretch endlessly before us, suddenly seem terribly short.  Can we really be at middle school?  Wasn't I just sobbing in Immanuel Baptist Church's parking lot as I dropped my oldest off for her first day of preschool?  Can I really just be months away from having everyone in school all day?  What happened to days of Mama directed play, princesses and pink cowboy boots?  When did spending time with dear old Mom and Dad become boring at best and more likely... embarrassing.  The days race by filled with cheerleading, ball games, sleepovers and homework.  I complain about clothes in the hall and cars filled with fast food containers and leaking cups.  We argue over technology and chores.  And, we wonder.  I worry.  Is it all just too fast, too much.  In the rush of the daily, have we buried our real talent? 
I want to make sure we use our winnings wisely.  That we invest in them and not just in the moment.  I hope when our kids look back, they remember meals around the table, and great family trips.  I hope Hadley remembers the hour playing ball on the beach and the late night conversation more than the cheer event.  That Brianna will know she matters because her parents weren't too busy to remind her that "she is fearfully and wonderfully made" that she is "who the great I AM " says she is.  That we taught them all by example-word and deed- that all people matter and are worth the sacrifice.  That we are here for but a moment and only investments in God's bank really yield returns.
We don't play the lottery, it is a poor investment.  Our children are a gift and not a win.  And what they become a blessing and not a trophy.  God is the only perfect parent and even then His children are far from perfect.  Dear God, let me hold my trust with open hands and truly be thankful.  And let us all remember how blessed we are and give back to those who aren't.

How can I stay upset when....

Thing 1 comes home having had an antibiotic induced incident at school.  Thing 2 is in different clothes because she literally bit a hole in the first shirt.  Thing 1 runs inside from backyard with liquid poop puddling in his shoes.  While cleaning Thing 1 up, Thing 2 plays in poop to guarantee equal attention for all.  1 bath and third set of clothes for the day later, Mama attempts to clean up kitchen.  Thing 2, upset at being expected to self entertain for even a moment, takes revenge and plays in poop one more time.  Put her in tub.  Thing 1 now has another explosive moment.  While dealing with him, Thing 2 explodes in the bathtub water.  At what point is it acceptable to start crying.  Get Thing 1 and Thing 2 cleaned up yet again.  Thing 1 smiles at me and says "I'm really happy you are my Mama."  Thing 2 nods vehemently "YES, YES"  I guess there are worse things than poop.  But prayers for cleaner days still accepted... please.

There is more story to this but....

A picture may be worth a thousand words, but I am not taking pictures of these events.  I am completley immersed in One Thousand Gifts so I am trying to be thankful.  This week I am thankful for...

• Our lovely preacher's wife for bringing food while Brianna and I were at Vanderbilt
• Friends, inlaws, and help that did whatever needed to be done while we were at Vandy
• A doctor that lets Brianna break food rules so she'll eat
• A child old enough to finally understand eating= go home
• Wonderful friends that take over the care of my kids when one in a million accidents happen
• Cheer dad that drove me to urgent care despite concerns I might vomit in his car and the looks I am sure he got from the staff.
• Cell phones (I am sure this thanks will be short lived)
• Big sunglasses
• Clorox wipes
• Aunt Lana's homemade soap that removes really awful smells better than anything else I know
• Multiple PBS channels thanks to our new local cable
• A really great husband

These, like the tales of my Dad biting his tongue half off, the ski trip with a migraine, and Brian's assorted injuries, will be the stories we will tell forever.