Ms. Booty Homemaker Explains It All To You.

Further reflection on Twenty Twelve.

2012-01-02T10:13:00.001-06:00

Very simple New Year resolution: NO more talking on the cell phone while driving.

Otherly, goal like: monthly projects and plans (No spend (other than necessities) January and no fast food January -- seemingly redundant, but important to keep at bay that six year old's call for fast food in the car and mama's giving in because of poor planning on my part.)

As per my friend Kelly Manchego Crase, I am focusing on what I'm not going to do this year: I am not going to talk on the cell phone while driving, I am not going to be a poor steward of money and time, I am not going to give in to instant gratification. Playing my friend Julie Helm Clark's Pollyanna game, I am going to focus on what I DO have and AM and what's going RIGHT this year.

Like this: I am thankful for a ready smile and a body that moves mostly like I want and need it to and for its ability to provide comfort to my loved ones with hugs and snuggles and a lap and a strong back.

As an overarching annual goal, I endeavor to pay greater respect and attention *throughout the year* to my role as my family's spiritual leader.

Happy New Year!

2012-01-01T12:10:00.001-06:00

We are ready to usher in Twenty-twelve.... the old ashes have been added to the fire, the blackeyed peas are on the stovetop with the bone of Christmas ham. There'll be greens and cornbread, deviled eggs and iced tea, also some oyster chowder from the Mister's familial tradition.

I have -- as of the end of the week -- received word that I will return to my job for the remainder of the year (hurrah!!) and our precious Diggy has but two radiation treatments left and upcoming appointments with her specialists at Vanderbilt. The boy is ready to return to first grade, the Mister is in job search mode, and I feel certain he will find just the right thing.
We had a wonderfully restorative Christmas with my family -- simple, quiet, family filled. Three things that do NOT tend to go together with my family, and yet we pulled it off!

The Mister got in a quick trip northerly to visit with his people, including his sister in from London (the boy and I remained here to complete the school year and to have him cycle through the vestiges of a viral infection before heading to see Diggy, whose fragility necessitates healthy visitors.)

The Mister and I have watched some of this year's series, the old BBC miniseries, I, Claudius.

We have embarked on a major clutter busting project, wherein I've determined to rid myself of all but the most precious books and CDs, to gain space and lessen our capacity for dust. The Mister hasn't agreed to follow suit completely, but he's on board to eliminate and consolidate a bit, for the overall health of our family. And after a decade, I readily admit that the man still surprises me. I love that about him.

Happy New Year, friends!! May 2012 be a year filled with riches of the heart. My son's precious wishes, made last night at our bonfire were NOT for a Wii and a bunch of toys, but for 1) Diggy to get better very soon, 2) us to get our house moved and organized (switching around some rooms to accomodate current family need) and 3) for a LOT more family time. Those are the things that make his six year old heart sing. May you find your very own version of whatever those wishes, hopes and dreams are for YOU.

Twenty-twelve, we are ready.... let's get to it.

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing,

and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

~ Rumi ~

Yes. I totally just said that....

2011-12-21T12:53:00.002-06:00

Me: Well, I believe that I will need to have a little conversation with Santa Claus about a boy who isn't listening very well to his mother.

The boy: Well, Mama, how are you going to do that? You don't even know the real Santa.

Merry Happy Wonder: 2011 version.

2011-12-17T12:55:00.001-06:00

Our boy was the first child to visit with Santa at Wednesday night's Cub Scout Pack holiday banquet, as he had rushed forward when the youngest den of the pack (Tigers) was called. (Bold, our boy.)

This was the calm before the storm, as moments later, he had Public Meltdown of the Year over a broken candy cane (Santa had given it to him.) I ended up literally having to carry our boy out of the sweet little neighborhood church that hosted the banquet with him kicking, screaming and crying. When he nearly flung both me and him down the stairs, his father took him and I took over the Fiesta platter on which we'd brought brownies.

My Mister ended up putting him in the car where he cried more, thrashed, kicked the doors and dashboard..... until a good while later, he calmed, and I was able to climb into the backseat to monitor him while his daddy drove us slowly home with a steady hand on the wheel.

Having had virtually no experience with this when he'd been working away from home seven days a week, this was a first for my Mister to experience this full on and IN THE WORLD of other people. I felt as though I'd been transported back to the first four years of my child's life and it could have been any day of the week: on a trip to the public library, at a park, in the grocery store or the KMart or the Target, or in the bank parking lot on Charlotte Avenue near the Nations section of town (you know -- the one with the gold dome....) It could have been during or after a presentation I was giving for Mothers Acting Up or during the time I was trying to write a grant or a web recipe for community action. It might have been over brushing teeth or putting shoes on, a trash can that was rolled on its side or any other item that was out of place and therefore disturbing.

To my dear child's credit, he has weathered rather a lot. In recent months he has seen his beloved Diggy grow incredibly ill. He has been away from his mother while she worked fulltime away from home, finished grad school, graded papers in the evenings and in the wee morning farmer's hours... He has lived through having had a father work away from home seven days a week during near the entirty of his life until just last year, when grad school took over, and then this semester become the more available parent at home. He has been toted to and from two different preschools, weathered his mother's lay offs and job searches and a flooded out home and a move.

He has begun elementary school, learned to read (very well,) participated in extracurriculars, and this year has enjoyed before and aftercare at our wonderful PTO run school care program. (Can I just say? we are soooooooooo fortunate with our boy's school and his teacher who is extraordinary! and the before and aftercare program which is stellar!!)

Our boy is also a bit high spirited, and strung tight. A lot like his mother, AND his father, too. (One of us is a stealth high maintenance person, one not so much.)

And so, I fault him hardly at all for the upset. For the getting overstimulated on holiday treats and decorations and Santa and all three of us out at an evening activity on a school-night (exceptionally rare!) and the remaining hour plus crying in mama's arms over all the things listed above. "I hope you DON'T go back to that school!! You never play with me. You only do homework and grade papers and you don't love me!"

This boy, he is our emotional barometer and our angel. He is profane AND sacred.

He is the manifestation of the purest love we have for each other, and the hope we hold for the world, and the faith we have in the Universe and in God and in each other.

But even more than any of that: our boy is just a six year old boy with boogers and a sassy mouth and a love of Harry Potter and rock music and his dog. He's a kid who likes to climb trees, run with packs of wildly laughing children, eat crisp apples, dig in the dirt, kick soccer balls, earn Cub Scout badges and beads and belt loops.

And it's all OK.

Merry Christmas. Happy New Year.

We're the Babcocks.

You may consider this our holiday card for 2011 as to be frank about it, making a holiday card and sending it out has been last on my list of priorities this month what with finishing my degree, winding down teaching this semester and trying to renegotiate my interim contract (still not sure if I return in January or if I need to find a new job.) It's the first year we've ever NOT had a tree, have forgone putting up the full on decorations, and certainly you will find no elf on the shelf here.

The bits of idle time at my hands have been wasted here and here, as the laughs have been needed a great deal. Laughter and prayer are close to the same for me. And as my friend Jay says, "Laughter is my religion." Er, for me, it's a spiritual expression, and keeps me going like nothing else. Laughing is being in communion with God and with humanity.

So ho ho ho!! And ha ha ha.

With lots of love from here to wherever this may find you,

XXX

peo

Mexican Hot Chocolate Snickerdoodles.

2011-12-12T04:03:00.001-06:00

My boy decided he wanted to make his favorite cookie over the weekend. He made a list of each teacher on "my big hallway at school," and we made the cookies. We bagged a single one for each of the teachers on his list, and he asked me to type out the recipe, which I happily did. This afternoon, we'll staple the recipe, along with a note of cheer to each baggie.

Oh, I love my boy's heart.

Mexican Hot Chocolate Snickerdoodles

Makes 2 dozen Cookies

A beautifulcrackle topped chocolate cookie with a spicy cayenne kick and a sugary cinnamoncoating.

For the topping:
1/3 cup sugar
1 teaspoon groundcinnamon

For the cookies:
1/2 cup canolaoil
1 cup sugar
1/4 cup puremaple syrup
3 tablespoonsalmond milk (Or your preferred non-dairy milk)
1 teaspoonvanilla extract
1 teaspoonchocolate extract (or more vanilla extract if you have no chocolate)
1 2/3 cups flour
1/2 cupunsweetened cocoa powder

1 teaspoon bakingsoda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspooncinnamon
1/2 teaspooncayenne

Preheat oven to350 F. Line 2 large baking sheets with parchment paper.

Mix the topping ingredientstogether on a flat plate. Set aside.

In a mediummixing bowl, use a fork to vigorously mix together oil, sugar, syrup, and milk.Mix in extracts.

Sift in remainingingredients, stirring as you add them. Once all ingredients are added mix untilyou’ve got a pliable dough.

Roll dough intowalnut sized balls. Pat into the sugar topping to flatten into roughly 2 inchdiscs. Transfer to baking sheet, sugar side up, at least 2 inches apart (theydo spread). This should be easy as the the bottom of the cookies should juststick to your fingers so you can just flip them over onto the baking sheet.Bake for 10 to 12 minutes, they should be a bit spread and crackly on top.Remove from oven and let cool for 5 minutes, then transfer to a cooling rack tocool completely.

from Vegan Cookies Invade Your Cookie Jar By Isa Chandra Mowskowitz

A prayer of Thanksgiving.

2011-11-27T09:03:00.001-06:00

Thankful for a rich if imperfect marriage. For a beautiful funny intelligent and delightful child. For my siblings so dear to my heart. Our father for his generosity and tenderness, our mother for her inspiration and courage and boundless love. Thankful for my nieces three, so precious. For the perfectly perfect in laws who I love more than I imagined possible. For friends both far and near, without whom this journey would be lonely and less colorful. For the best dog companion a woman could ask for. For sweet potatoes and good teeth and a job. For doctors and nurses and other caregivers, and especially for the ones helping Mother fight and grow stronger. For God, from whom all blessings flow. Amen.

Mystical mythical.

2011-11-21T06:26:00.001-06:00

Thanksgiving 2010

This morning the Boy has awakened with one thing on his mind.

"Is the Book Fair still open?"

"No, babe, it closed last week."

Pause and pout.... "But...."

"What did you need or want, babe?"

"I wanted Ninjago with the Lego set! But the Book Fair was out of them last week...."

"Well, I guess you'll have to put it on your Christmas wish list. Maybe Santa or someone will get it for you."

"Well, I don't think that Santa's elves make that. So HE can't get it for me...."

"Hm. You know, I have heard -- now I don't know for sure -- but I have heard that Santa sometimes sends his elves to the store."

"Really? Where did you hear that?"

"I don't know. From a kid, maybe?"

"So you don't know if it's true!"

"No, I don't. There are so many rumors about Santa, I kind of just roll with it."

"Well I don't."

Belief. Disbelief.

And what happened was.....

2011-11-16T15:59:00.000-06:00

My job at Eakin was not renewed after last year. The funding was reallocated.

I went to school all summer semester long with four classes three days a week back to back to back to back, April to August. I sold Thirty One. I kept kids. We swam. Played a lot of Uno and read Harry Potter and listened to Percy Jackson stories on audio disk. I wrote a honking ton of papers and did bulletin boards and projects and lesson plans and hunted for a job.

We made a very quick run to Michigan for the Fourth of July. I wrote scripts and taught multi age / multi cultural Sunday School. I felt God being in the presence of children. In holding my husband's hand. In preparing meals for my family.

After a rough Spring semester, my husband needed a break. He worked a couple days a week at the record and comics shop and didn't get his contract renewed at the middle school. We decided it was in his best interest to student teach and go a more traditional route.

Our boy became a spectacular reader and grew many inches. He refused to sleep in his own bed for many many months because of a bad incident at school in the Spring. We're actually still working through it.

My brother and his wife and their baby moved from Boston to Oak Ridge, and moved in with my folks.

My sister's family thrived, even though Dana had a boot for months on her foot and kidney stones. They got a new van, stayed in their beautiful home and Dana began her sixteenth year teaching gifted middle schoolers at the same locale.

Our mother's health rapidly declined. We had noticed it for months. Worried, fretted, made late night phone calls. We googled and asked each other questions. Made observations. She called me up sometimes telling me that her memory was going. In the early summer, she admitted to my brother, which he then told to us girls (through tears) that Mother couldn't remember what went on the breakfast table in the mornings.

Daddy seemed unmoored.

Mother kept falling. Nearly into the creek. Onto the potato bin during the blessing before supper. On the steps. Over her feet. Into the bushes. She had a little black-out incident in the swimming pool.

School started again. I kept looking for a job. We spent all our student loan money on tuition and rent and new shoes for the boy and car repairs and gasoline to run back and forth across the plateau for me to see family. To figure things out with Mother. To print off resumes and jump through hoops and dream about moving closer to the folks if only the right job materialized.

It did not.

What happened was: Mother had a grand mal seizure in her bedroom on September the eleventh. Daddy and my brother found her. By the next evening, she'd already been in three ambulances and was checking into her third hospital, Vanderbilt this time, in MY city. ICU.

I was offered a job, and declined it, going into the red with our bank account but needing to be with Mother to see what was going on.

The short story is that she had a brain tumor. Had had it awhile. (It'd been missed in a scan a year before.) Hydrocephalus had made her forgetful and unbalanced and it had made her seize. The night before they went into her head with endoscopic instruments, I made a pot of chicken and dumplings and took it to the ICU. My mother, my father, my sister, my brother and I all ate the dumplings together and gathered around Mother to say a prayer. It was Communion, in the truest sense.

That may have been the first time in twenty plus years it'd been just us having a meal together: no boyfriends, husbands, grandbabies, others.

Well, God was there.

In the wee early morning, I had my car valet parked and went up to Mother's room. She was awake and I laid down in the bed with her and we held hands and listened to each other breathe and reminded each other of funny and tender and outrageous things. She reminded me that in life-- and in the event of her death -- her wish for each of us, her children, was this, these three things on which we could base THE WAY WE LIVED:

Love fully. Forgive, forgive, forgive. And: stay true to the Spirit of your Christian core.

She made sure to express that my core might differ from someone else's and that Christian was based in Christ, not in political garble or evangelical smack downs. She's good that way, my Mother.

After the surgery, everything got messy. Bad. Painful.

For her. For us.

I turned down another job.

My brother tried to juggle his new job and still new baby with being in Nashville so much. Daddy fought with each of his children. We fought with him.

Mother talked a blue streak in word salad and had a hard time orienting to time and place for awhile. Some days we were in Afghanistan, fighting a war. Some days we were in Virginia; it was 1992. Or 1970, somewhere else. In England. In Knoxville. The nurse was the church secretary and her husband was coming to pick her up.

My child turned six. On his birthday, even though he was afraid of Mother's catheter bag and the PIC line in her hand, he and I had a picnic lunch in the ICU with hand picked fancy cupcakes and little plastic dishes of ice cream.

My husband and I were so tired. We'd fight. I'd cry. He'd hold me. I'd promise him we'd make it okay somehow. We'd get more rest. We'd finish school. I'd get a job. He'd finish student teaching.

The day Mother left Vanderbilt on a stretcher being pushed by the EMTs, she waved like the queen to everyone on the way out. I hear the nurses are still using my phrase, "Cover up your pocketbook!"

When the ambulance pulled away, I felt as though my heart had just been pulled from my body and I couldn't get enough air. I didn't know what to do.

I took a job.

I teach sixth grade reading at an urban middle school. It's an incredibly challenging gig, and I work way too many hours a week, up very very early in the morning, staying at school into dark.

I go to school and will graduate in mere weeks. On off weekends, I drive east to see Mother. I help with math homework and shuttle my child to martial arts and birthday parties and make sure his Cub Scout tasks are complete. My house is in constant disarray. We eat a lot of sandwiches. I don't see friends. There is no time. At night, I reach across my six year old and hold my husband's hand and tell him how much I love him.

Last night I said, "I miss you." He said, "I miss you, too, Babe." We know we'll make it back to each other.

Mother got stronger at Patricia Neal doing rehabilitative therapies. She still has some double vision and some confusion. She thought Thanksgiving was this week, she told me on the phone last night. She'd been expecting me to arrive and assigning different ones different jobs like pie baking and such.

She has cancer.

My beautiful amazing Mother has brain cancer.

Already, she has been through it, nearly having lost her life to a fluke virus that invaded her heart back in the nineties.

And now this.

I'm angry.

And sad.

And a fighter. I am the cheer team captain of Team Happy Club.

Sometime during the time of the ICU and the worst of all the days, I came home one night with this revelation to my husband. You know what? I asked --- It's my MOTHER that's the extraordinary one. Daddy's so brilliant with his photographic memory and his charm and the ability to suck all the air out of the room because he's just who he is. But it's my mother who is extraordinary. She's not just the glue. She's IT.

Thankfully, we children have a lot of her in us. I see it in my brother's tender ministrations to her (and his frustration, too,) and in my sister, with her no-nonsense To DOs and her absolute refusal to believe anything bad is going to happen. To mother, or to any of us. I see it in my own need to do SOMETHING, even though I am here and she is now at home....

I set up a meal train and update folks on Facebook. We talk on the phone. I cry in private. A lot. I pray. A lot. I try really hard to love fully. To forgive, forgive, forgive. And to stay true to the Spirit of my Christian core.

A lot of the time I'm bungling things. I forget stuff because I'm tired and over extended and nowhere near the extraordinary woman my mother is.

I'm working on it.

Packing for a visit to Diggy & Papa.

2011-03-13T18:34:00.000-05:00

Our Spring Break begins tomorrow, after a snow make-up day. The Mister and the Dog and the Cats will hold the homefront down while the Boy and I head to Diggy & Papa's for a couple days. I asked the Boy to pack for himself by putting the things he wants to take on my bed.

Right now, there is a pile which includes:

one giant pencil
one giant pen
Star Wars, Return of the Jedi on VHS tape
Star Wars, a book reading, on DVD
one disc from a set of Three Stooges DVDs
one Fantastic Four comic book
Bob, the wig, which we'll return to our friend Jo Hunter
a lanyard holding a passel of Silly Bands
a pinstriped gray wool newsboy cap
an American flag
a blow up National Geographic beach ball type globe toy
Irish, the Roomba
and a number of Star Wars action figures

Random reportage.

2011-03-13T17:44:00.001-05:00

I put yarrrow and lemon balm in the ground this late afternoon, where they joined the pansies and mums I put in the front bed last Sunday.

Pintos with chops are on the stove. Rice and cornbread are cooking to go with.

Upon arriving at church this morning and finding a good spot in which to park, the boy announced

Check out my pal Heather!!

2011-03-13T16:59:00.002-05:00

That boy of mine says....

2011-03-12T15:07:00.000-06:00

in his middle of the night move from his own bedroom to our bed,

"Mama, you are fun. But you're old."

in the car on the way home from school,

"You smell like Sam from iCarly's armpit!"

"God made hot sauce."

in his tension relieving prayer for mama on the way to take a big exam early this morning,

"I pray for Mama to say "Bobby!"" (a la Whitney during the short-lived Being Bobby Brown show -- no, he himself has not seen it, though he emulates my and the Mister's silly reenactment.)

"for Mama not to fart."

"for Mama not to pee her pants."

"for Mama to be calm."

Thankful Thursday.

2011-03-10T19:05:00.001-06:00

*The ability to pay for the outrageously expensive car repairs on my wagon, even if it depletes resources and necessitates rice and beans for a good while.

*Rice and beans.

* Flannel sheets.

* Daffodils.

*Aging. Gracefully. Messily. Tiredly. But getting older all the same.

*Fiestaware on the table.

*An impending Spring Break, even if shortened by snow make up days.

*Another fantastic instructor.

*The abiltity to pay for Bert's vet care, even if it depleted us for other things, and it means rice and beans for awhile.

*Rice and beans.

*Avocados and salsa, too.

*A faith community that enriches us and holds us accountable.

Justice for Henry.

2011-03-09T16:10:00.001-06:00

Please read about Henry Granju, his life, his death, and the lack of justice in his case. His mother Katie is blogging the full story as she knows it, and she is actively seeking media coverage. Please contact her if you are able to help in that regard.

Henry was Katie's and Chris' child. Stepchild of two additional loving parental figures. Brother, cousin, nephew, grandchild and friend to many. He could be my child. Or yours.

Love over judgement.

Unplugging from the book of faces.

2011-02-12T23:52:00.001-06:00

I love Facebook.

It's been a great way to keep in touch with family and friends from afar, to stay up to date on current events, community happenings, and even plan dates with friends in my city and neighborhood.

Really, I love it. Y'all know this. I've been what could only be described as a heavy user of the book.

And yet, tomorrow, I'll be unplugging -- stepping away, shoving off.
I'm not to the point where I'm ready (or able?) to delete my entire profile.
But I need a break. My life in the real world needs me full on. I need to have more discipline than I've had these many weeks of sick kid and snow days and so on. I have proven that my ability to monitor myself is for poop.

And there are (surely!) many rewards to be reaped in the face of being book of faceless. Right?

As in: instead of relying on a quick little dart of contact, maybe I'll go out of my way more to physically see and BE with friends in my neighborhood, and in my city. My phones will get a bit more wear and tear, maybe also my pen and stationary....

I'm not looking for a way to unplug from friends, but certainly to be a bit more private. No, that's not quite it, either, being a solidly different creature than my Mister.

I want a way to be more intimate. And Facebook has been good to me, but I'm ready to commit to real time in real life with real you, MORE of the time.

So call me. Come by. Let's make a date. The kids can play, we can take a walk. Spring is coming. Coffee is good, and still pretty cheap. After school get togethers for nature or playgrounds or the occasional frozen yogurt or early supper are welcome.

Don't write me off. Come on over, and come on in.

The B word.

2011-02-09T08:15:00.000-06:00

The Boy: Mom, the B word is a bad word.

Ms. Booty Homemaker: OK. What's the B word?

The Boy: Butt. That's a bad word. Well, except like if you say, 'but, but, but, no.... Then it's OK.'

Working / Mothering.

2011-02-02T11:13:00.003-06:00

This morning, I rose, packed lunches, prepared breakfast, readied, put together backpacks. Drove to school. We listened to Galactic in the car, and encountered a great deal of traffic. We purchased a copy of The Contributor from our regular vendor at 440 and Murphy Road.

I parked the car. The boy, who has been trying to get rid of this cold since 10 days ago, coughed a cough that made me tune into my mother wisdom (better late than not at all,) turn around and go straight to the pediatrician. Bacterial bronchitis. Expensive designer meds. Another day out of work for me, and class for the boy.

Outside the Publix, while the prescriptions were being filled, I called my boss to let her know of my absence. During this time, I was approached by a very hungry woman. I gave her the cash I had remaining from my week's worth, and hoped she bought food with it that would stick to her ribs.

Breathing deeply. Working and parenting is not always the most easily navigable when one tries to do both well.

And yet: I have a job. A much needed job. One I like very much and want to hold onto. My family has plenty to eat, and a warm home to which we can retreat for healing during this 26 degree day in what may be the hardest winter our country has experienced. Tonight when we tuck in, we'll say a special prayer for Miss Rita and all too many others like her, who do not have what we do. And we'll remember to be grateful, and to share what we've got.

Home. Health be restored.

Thankful Thursday.

2011-01-27T14:25:00.001-06:00

This week I am grateful for many things, including:

* Puffs Plus tissue.

* A washer and dryer in the home.

* An extra trip to the Frist Visual Arts Center on a snow day to see the Birth of Impressionism exhibit one more time, though still not to completion, with earphones for the boy, who very much liked "listening to the stories," and did not attempt to touch a painting again.

* A paycheck, in my name, for the first time in months. Whew.

* Good teeth, and a smiley smile.

* Laughter.

* Hats, scarves and mittens.

* The ability to be home with my sick kid when he needs me. I know plenty of mamas don't have or feel they have a viable choice.

* Greek yogurt. Mealshare. And coffee. Speaking of which, I think I'll indulge in an afternoon cup just as soon as I can make some....

Afternoon at our house.

2011-01-27T14:09:00.002-06:00

And.... it's one more day at home with a coughing, sneezing, snuffly, muffly, snotty, uncomfortable child. Grant him rest and healing today. Grant me patient kindness and productivity. Between snow days and sick days, it's been a wash this week, both for my work, and the boy's school.

At present I am in process of all of the following: getting us on budget billing for our gas, turning in our MDHA weatherization application, scanning and emailing my student loan refund request, gathering materials for lesson plans on composting and recycling, keeping the laundry washing / drying / folding / put away, coming up with a supper idea, waiting for the Mister's alma mater to return a phone call....

We are having "quiet choice" time. I have expressed that sharpening pencils in the electric pencil sharpener at my workspace in the kitchen is not exactly the quiet part of choice. Thus, the boy has declared "off I go to find some more pencils," and he is laying them "next to the sharpener, so we can do it later."

Hence: balloons.

With lots of sickly boy spit in them. Ew. And, oh.

Morning at our house.

2011-01-27T07:55:00.002-06:00

Slimy foughts.

2011-01-26T18:32:00.002-06:00

Ninth snow day since the school year began.

And the children at Metro Nashville Public Schools have been out more than in classes since mid December.

My kid's got a nasty cold with a snuffly snout, croupy cough. He was ruddy with fever and sneezy when I picked him up Monday.

I'm a bit out of sorts myself, with all this bending out of routine.

As we were readying for bed shortly ago, mid sentence my boy ran with a fury to the tissue box on the coffee table, after blowing, telling me, "I had to blow my nose!"

And then, said with the enormous smile of a happy discovery, "When your nose is slimy, your FOUGHTS [thoughts] are slimy. Because your foughts come from your brain, get it? And your brain has mucus!"

Very pleased with himself, he goes on to declare that the Valentine hearts we put up on the kitchen cabinets today "look really good, more loving," and "like they are made for a smaller house, like ours, but we have lots of space, and lots of rooms, like one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, and Dad's special room!"

Share Your Strength: Impact a Child's Life

2011-01-24T09:13:00.000-06:00

Thankful Thursday, whoops! On Friday.

2011-01-21T10:21:00.002-06:00

This week, I am thankful for so many things, including:

* Improved communication, in general.

*Mother wisdom, better late than never, in knowing to cut out evening activities for my over-tired child.

* Parental generosity. Thank you to my Dad, for the gift of our CSA subscription.

* Loving friends. At church, in the neighborhood. And a bit further away.

* Employment.

* Coffee.

* Pinkberry.

* The happy surprise of leaning into a goal with enthusiasm and good spirits, with the result of fourteen pounds whittled away.

* The East Y.

* A fine school for my boy.

* The best most companionable dog.

Whew.

2011-01-15T17:25:00.001-06:00

This is the painting our son reached out to touch today at the Frist Center for the Visual Arts when I grabbed and pulled back his hands just in time.

Jason and Medea by Gustave Moreau (1865)

You can most certainly see the appeal to touch by a five year old boy, can't you?

While he didn't last through the complete exhibit of The Birth of Impressionism (oh, we'll go back! Can you IMAGINE seeing Whistler's Mother in person? Or Manet's Woman With Fans?!!) we were there long enough to examine and admire and discuss an enormous painting of Sarpedon, the slain son of Zeus. So cool, says the boy. Death. Blood. Angels. Battle. Gods. Awesome. "My favorite," he says.

Thankful Thursday.

2011-01-13T09:43:00.000-06:00


Writing a birthday card for a classmate and friend.

This week, I am thankful for much, including:

* The boy's growing love and understanding of the written word.

* A successful first experience using a babysitter.

* School. Spring semester of grad school is on.

* My mother, to whom I can turn in a pinch.

* Forgiveness.

* The gift of time at home and with my boy, afforded by the beautiful winterscape outside.

* Early fruits of my labors toward a healthier me.

* Steel cut oats, sauteed spinach, crisp apples and Ruby Red grapefruits.

* Meredith. Her presence in the world is an inspiration; her generosity and encouragement of all my endeavors means a lot to me.

* Mollie and David. Their presence in our community is a living breathing blessing; I am honored to know them, to learn from them, to love them.

* the Amish Fireplace in our living room.

* Thick socks, purchased years ago. All weather mocs. Snuggling in the big bed with my family.

A Beautiful Piece of Writing.

2011-01-13T07:42:00.000-06:00

The New York Times Modern Love column is often quite good.

This offering by Seattle's Nicole Hardy, is beautifully written, and movingly eye opening in subject matter.

Becoming better at stewardship.

2011-01-12T11:38:00.000-06:00

A goal I've been working on the last number of years with increased focus is that of stewardship; of resources, large and small.

To that end, I'm clutter busting during these snowy homebound days, and mapping out a budget plan, part of which is revisiting plans for internet, television and telephones; signing up for energy saving plans, recycling old materials (books, CDs, and so on) into cash or trade for current needs.

Unused, outgrown, or otherwise unneeded clothing and household items become someone else's blessing. Doesn't feel good, look good, or meet current requirements? Into the give away box or basket it goes. Maintenance on computers, vehicles, and other useful tools is key to expanding the life of these things, and the status of our efficiency as well. I'm working on a schedule for such things, as well as some kind of household folder or journal with all the important information and schedules. Long though I've spoken of it, and researched it, I've yet to put these things into action.

Today, we -- me, and the boy, that is -- are setting the timer and are go, go, going. Ten minutes here to gather up toys. Twenty minutes here to plunder the laundry pile and determine homes for things. Thirty minutes there to move the sofa and vacuum, rescue lost Lego pieces, push aside the chair, re-place the rug....

Sorting and ordering not only makes home and hearth much more peaceful and enjoyable -- room by room, day by day -- but also saves time, energy and allows us not to repurchase supplies (for today, that would be Valentine making materials: construction paper, glitter, glue, markers, rubber stamps, etc.) For us, this has been a real issue.

And of course, in finding duplications and unneeded items, we are able to share our relative wealth. In our circle of friends, we're struggling with financial woes, often seemingly alone -- two adults in graduate school, currently underemployed and over taxed by demands on time and ability. Yet in the grand scheme of things, we are so wealthy. In comparison to most of the world, we are outright rich, a good thing to remember when things feel too large, too out of control.

We have often taken the easiest way, instead of the more right way, even when we know better. We're working on that. Small steps. Better communication, better mapped out plans, more space for thought and work and simplicity to bear its fruit, even while one of us is a saver and collector of much, and the other is, in default position, overwhelmed and undisciplined. I'll let you guess who is who in our home.

Are you also on this journey? I'd love to hear your tips and success stories.

A neighbor shared the following sites. You may find them useful also:

myrateplan.com : The site's CellCalc and TruBill features let you
search mobile service plans available in your region and do side-by-
side comparisons of features, minute allocations and costs.

saveology.com : Enter your address into this site to get an up-to-date
list of options for phone, Internet and TV services for your home--and
to see whether bundling is the best way to go.

utilitybillbusters.com : This online trove of energy-saving advice
offers articles on everything from the right kind of insulation to how
to keep your microwave from burning money.

In my room.

2011-01-12T08:55:00.001-06:00

Eleven pounds down. Plenty more to go.

Practice Resurrection.

2011-01-10T12:30:00.005-06:00

We've been doing a round of telling our faith stories in our Sunday School class, and they are a blessing each and every time. Many of us live our lives with the hope of it being God filled, though not always being intent that there is a literal interpretation and belief in the Christian narrative as concerns the divinity and resurrection of Jesus, or the virgin status of Mary, or the trinity. It is an open, loving, liberally minded group of folks who are vital to our community, and are focused on our each being spiritual at our core.

Yesterday, a dear couple shared their faith stories, and at the end of his sharing, our friend David read Wendell Berry's Manifesto: The Mad Farmer's Liberation Front, a piece that reduces me to tears for its beauty and rightness, and yesterday one which spoke to me in a particularly deep way. The Mister and I are navigating an especially difficult conflict at present; he'd chosen not to accompany the boy and I to church. And this piece, so holy and extraordinary in its ordinaryiness, was read by our officiating reverend and dear friend Bill, at our wedding.

Manifesto: The Made Farmer's Liberation Front, by Wendell Berry

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.

So, friends, every day do something
that won't compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.
Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered he has not destroyed.

Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millenium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.
Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.

Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.
Listen to carrion - put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?

Go with your love to the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn't go. Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.

On the day we wed, in our livingroom, with an intimate group of friends and family around us, Bill charged us to, "Plant sequoias," and to "Practice resurrection." His wife, Kaki, dear friend and mentor as well as the other officiant at our wedding, placed her message in the pumpkin we passed round for messages, wishes, and prayers. It was a little scoop of soil with a tangle of roots and seeds.

In times like these, we must remember both, Love the Lord, Love the World, Work for nothing. Take all you have and be poor. AND to: Love someone who does not deserve it.

The way is not easy. Living in a God filled world charges us not to profess to a prescribed narrative or transubstantiation or to limit our contact to those who look and think as we do. Rather, it charges us to open our hearts and arms wide and wider still, to become radically inclusive. To prepare the world by planting seeds we will not live to see bear fruit.

Love someone who does not deserve it.

Practice resurrection.

Just married, on the way to toss the pumpkin into the ravine. October 2002.

Addendum: Yesterday's worship service was centered on the message Remembering our Baptism. I rose and walked toward the altar rail to be blessed by baptismal water by Lanecia, our youth pastor, my friend, and someone I admire greatly. I remembered my struggle in the year previous, whether to participate in this ritual or not, and ultimately circling back to what my son expressed of baptism, in simply "UH-cepting the love of God that's already there."

Yes.

Snow. Cat. Window. Number 2.

2011-01-10T10:49:00.001-06:00

Cats fit on the windowsill, children fit in the snow....

2011-01-10T09:59:00.003-06:00

Happiness at the Lost & Found.

2011-01-09T07:13:00.000-06:00

Lost: 9 pounds (Loss of water retention and inflamation in largest part; the same thing I found during pregnancy upon pulling back from sugar and processed carbohydrates. Notice I do not say "quitting," rather pulling back. These seemingly genteel semantics really DO make a difference.)

Found: my phone charger. (It's been missing over a week, and I woke to find it next to my laptop and the onions my Mister ran out late last night to procure, along with cat food. A mystery, and a happy one, the reappearance of this charger.)

Still missing in action: a check (much needed,) and printer cartridges (purchased for a song months back and now needed.)

All I'm sayin' is....

2011-01-07T09:44:00.001-06:00

Six pounds down.

This is about being really awake and alive and healthy.

That is all.

What would make this more readable and pleasing from a design standpoint?

2011-01-06T10:31:00.002-06:00

Would love feedback from the hundred or so of you who look at this daily. One of my goals this year is to blog regularly, grow a more consistent and expansive readership, and to utilize this blog as a calling card to court some paying writing gigs to supplement our income and give me another creative outlet.

For years, I've talked about moving this blog to WordPress or TypePad or.... I've also talked about purchasing a domain name. I've talked with bloggers I admire and read (Meredith, Katie, and others.) I've messed a bit with design here to streamline.

I think about putting recipes on one page or on another linked blog. Same with health goals.

I'm just not sure.

Some folks have suggested I have a logo / banner developed, and I'm game to consider any of it.

I'd love for you to weigh in. Pretty please?

What would YOU like to see?
What would keep you coming back?

Mornings.

2011-01-06T09:32:00.001-06:00


Snacktime at Diggy's, over the holidays.

Having all the boy's standard school attire at last in one dresser upstairs in his room has proven a boon, and has removed the necessity of choosing clothing for the morning box. (Instead, the morning box contains the backpack, coat, mittens, hat, and any other items like library books or toys that need to be taken for the day or returned to someone / somewhere.) My big kiddo is doing a great job of dressing for the school day, with a choice from each drawer, no help needed. SSA trousers (in khaki, navy or black,) a collared shirt (solid color,) and often a sweater or fleece pullover on top (also solid covered.)

I must say: I love the whole SSA program. It simplifies the shopping and readying process greatly, and evens the playing field for children from all strata and income levels. Additionally, there's the frugal and environmentally / economically friendly exchange program. The kids look pulled together and have a sense of appropriate (as in, no heinies hanging out or Juicy wording on the booty) style for school, yet are given room to add a personal bling to add one's own flava. My boy often adds a headband, a necklace, newsboy cap, bracelets or rings.

The new parka from Diggy is grand, as are the specially commissioned hand-knit mittens in camouflage colors -- these most especially appreciated when the temperature is in the twenties and the back deck and stairs are coated with ice -- something which, asidely, prompted the Mister to put a "travel ban" on me, his oft falling wife.

This morning, the Mister prepared to take the boy to school by walking the dog and warming up the car, while I packed lunches and prepared breakfast, sorting this and that for my own work day and carpool duties at school day's end.

"What would you like for breakfast, son? Cheerios with bananas and milk or yogurt, OR a breakfast burrito with eggs, salsa and cheese in a tortilla?" I asked my boy as he dressed for the day.

"Actually, I'd like Pancake Pantry," said my boy.

"Good one, but not a choice today, pal."

"What did you say my choices were again?"

Once more through the choices, and the boy suggests, "How about eggs and toast?"

"Done," I tell him, and scramble up a half dozen, make oven toast, and sautee up spinach and onions to add to my own breakfast.

Despite effort, father and son still leave late for school. (Last minute readying by the Mister, forgotten precious Lego piece by the boy, prompting one last trip inside from the car....)

I enter my own eats and water intake on livestrong.com -- a simple calorie counting tool I like for its ease and accountability. Move on to other tasks.

Now, if only I could find my phone charger....

2010 in random photographs.

2011-01-06T08:48:00.001-06:00

In the Middle.

2011-01-05T18:02:00.003-06:00

The boy's school has a talent show coming up at the end of the month. "It's a secret," he tells me. "What I'm going to do for the show, I mean."

I tell him that there's a form to fill out, so I might need to know, at which point he tells me, "I'm going to run around in a circle. With my hands on the ground. Jerrod can do it, too."

Whether this entertaining feat of daring do will be done to music or not remains to be seen.

++++

I've done it. Hired a babysitter for the first time ever. She's coming to keep the boy (notice he's not so much being called Ziggy anymore? He's really The Boy now) this weekend, the morning of the my and the Mister's first day back at school this semester. She was recommended to me by the sitter of a good friend, and she'll be taking the boy to a friend's house that afternoon where the mama of that household will take her son and mine and another pal from their kindergarten class to the Build a Bear Workshop in celebration of her son's sixth birthday. There will be pizza and maybe ice cream after. My boy is thrilled. A babysitter of his very own, and a party at Build a Bear with two of his best friends all in one day!!

++++

The boy and I returned fr0m Diggy and Papa's two afternoons ago. We'd spent Christmas there with the Mister, come home a few days, then returned without the Mister for New Year's in order to visit with my brother and his wife, and their beautiful baby girl. All was well. Then home. And I got the tummy bug. Knocking me out of starting my job yesterday (as science lab teacher at the boy's school.)

The good news? I am down three pounds as of the beginning of the year. With many more to go; a subject I'm sure to address more publicly (here) at some point. Suffice to say that I am keeping up with it all privately, and am deriving inspiration from far and yon.

++++

Seriously. I have the best friends ever. At church, in my neighborhood, from jobs, at school, from previous lives.

To wit: the gift card that arrived here in the nick of time, from "St. Nick" -- did I mention that previous? Some dear lovely friend (I have guesses as to who!) has done this on a few occasions when things have been particularly tight. Actually, this type of kindness has been offered up to our family on a handful of occasions. Amazing!

Having stated my health goals to a small clatch of folks in a very naked way, I've received a remarkable rush of encouragement, 'atta girl's and offers to meet up at the Y and for dinners and elsewhere. I've received emails and photographs and recipes and tips and workout routines. And such love and support that I am bolstered and emboldened.

I also came home from Diggy and Papa's to find a box of wonderful hats and a scarf, all from my dear friend Annie, who I've not seen since we became friends in Seattle a decade ago. We're both married now, and older. She's done a very impressive job of keeping us in contact, and this latest delivery of hats in support of my hair loss is completely typical of her loving kindness and thoughtful behavior.

I do, in fact, find myself surrounded by such thoughtful folks. How fortunate is that?!

++++

Big Time Rush plays in the car often, and prompts the response from the backseat, "Don't look at me, Mama. I'm practicing my secret moves."

++++

Home sick for a couple days, I've not bathed today, as is ordinarily true. After bathing the boy earlier this evening, post school pick up and our walk around the neighborhood with the dog before daylight's end, I really yearned for my own bath.

Drying him off, he smelled so fresh like Buzz Lightyear shampoo and Dr. Bronner's Eucalyptus. So I asked, "Do I stink?"

And the boy crawled up in my lap and got close to my neck and took in a big whiff, then announced quite seriously, "You smell kind of in the middle. That means sort of bad, but also sort of good."

Like life itself. Right smack dab in the middle.

First day of school in the year 2011.

2011-01-04T07:12:00.000-06:00

No trouble getting the boy up. He is READY for the return to kindergarten after Winter Break. Ready with his share day item (a Bakugan character, carefully placed inside an index card file box,) a breakfast eaten (Cheerios with bananas and milk,) decked out in standard school attire (sizes 6 and 7, including his new fleece pullover from Diggy.)

After breakfast, he whispered to me, "I want my hair to look like Kendall's." And so he's blown right past the spiky faux hawk look for today, to wanting his hair to "look flat, with bangs, actually one bang, kind of pointing down, like this," he says, index finger pointed downward at a slant. Kendall is from modern The Monkees type show and band Big Time Rush, and the boy thinks he is very, very, very cool.

Reflections and intent.

2011-01-02T16:58:00.000-06:00

In this new year, I'll be spending less time on the computer in general; on Facebook and a message board for mama friends in specific.

I will exit the year fitter, stronger, healthier, and smaller than I've entered it. Also braver.

As with previous years, I will continue to be working on being a better steward of resources in all facets.

I'll also be looking to expand radical hospitality in the ways in which I am so led. With the twin focus being to hone in on service to my very own family.

Less time spent on junky / less essential and distracting stuff makes for more time spent really present, with my child, my Mister, and other loved ones. Even me.

I want to exercise and read more. Have more dates with my Mister, and in general make more time for each other -- have deeper conversation, renew efforts to do things we enjoy together.I want to publish to earn again. To bust out the sewing machine, to excel in my work and in my schooling by putting forth the effort and putting in the time.

I want to move more, sit less. Listen more than I speak. Get plenty of sleep, eat green foods everyday, make fruit my favorite snack. Allow there to be room -- in my thoughts, my pants, my relationships. I want to know myself better, and how to address the realest longings of my heart.

Awhile back our Sunday Night group met. It was an evening of confession. I found something to confess to, and it was a real thing, but the thing gnawing at me that I couldn't bring myself to say aloud was, "Gluttony. I've been jamming myself full of biscuits and information and tasks and chocolate and Facebook and cups of coffee with half and half and none of it really feeds me, but I don't yet know how to be comfortable without all this -- there's a hole where I'm lonely and scared and sad and I'd really like to do it all differently. I am making myself sick with this way of being."

So, there. I've said it. And with each reflection and plan for the New Year, I state my intent to do it all differently, to thank my fat for protecting me, Facebook for its companionship, and so on. And let it go.

It is well past time.

Wouldn't be New Year's without....

2010-12-30T19:57:00.001-06:00

my sweetheart.

Alas, we'll be apart for the first New Year ever. And I won't get to see It Happened One Night at the Belcourt as we did on our first New Year's together. We got engaged then. I have, for years, believe I did the proposing, but was recently corrected when telling the story as I recalled it by, "Um, Babe, I remember getting down on my knee at one point, so....."

I digress. So apart for the actual holiday, we're going faux, and we're cramming all the New Year things in all at once and stretched out, too. It's new for awhile, right?

I made a big pot of peas last night. Black eyed peas. With CSA pork blade steaks, onions, garlic. And hot cornbread. Southern tradition for bringing luck in the New Year. Greens will have to wait. (for prosperity.)

Yum.

Tonight, another skillet of hot cornbread, this time served up with chowder to which oysters will be added. The Mister's family always had a milky oyster soup on New Year's Eve. Over the years I've improved upon it. And put a little of this southern woman into the man's Swedish dish. Because it's what I know to do.

We'll do some kind of marathon series watching on disc over the course of however many weekends. Harder these days with early mornings every day of the week. This will start at some time in the nearish future. In our earliest years, we were all PBS crazy. And since, we've done Deadwood, The Sopranos, Six Feet Under, The Office (with Ricky Gervais,) and his other series, Extras. I'm hard pressed to say which we enjoyed more, though the Mister would unequivocally say The Sopranos and Deadwood are a close tie. This year we've not chosen a series. (Suggestions welcome.)

And getting in while the getting's good prior to swearing off the sugar for a time, I'm making up some Cracker Toffee tonight. And I'm sharing the recipe with YOU.

Chocolate Cracker Toffee

Saltine crackers
1 12 oz bag semi-sweet chocolate chips
2 sticks butter
1 cup dark brown sugar

Preheat oven to 300.

Pam a foil-swathed cookie sheet and line it with
crackers.

Melt butter and sugar in a saucepan. Let it boil a
little while. Our it evenly over the crackers and bake
for 3 minutes in oven.

Remove, pour chocolate chips over everything evenly
and let it sit for 5 minutes.

When chips have melted, use the back of a spoon to
spread chocolate in an even layer on top.

Chill and then break like toffee and serve. Yum!!

-- Now what I do differently:
I use fewer chocolate chips, because I'm cheap. I find you can use less topping per crackers, and it goes further. So actually, I'm stretching the butter, the brown sugar AND the chips. By rather a lot, really.
I sometimes have subbed part coconut oil for some of the butter.
I also always do nuts. Pecans, almond slices, whatever. I dry toast them in a skillet first, and press them into the top of the crackers once dressed with caramelized butter / sugar and the chocolate chips.
I find popping the cookie sheet into the freezer to be helpful.

Their bones are in the future.

2010-12-29T17:35:00.002-06:00

From the dining room:

"See that star on top of our tree, Mama? I think it represents the star of Bethlehem that they followed!"

###

Sitting on the couch:

"Anything with Jesus on it or in it is called a crush, right Mama?"

"Not exactly. But you're close. Anything with Mary and Joseph and the infant Jesus, like your black-eyed pea Jesus ornament, is called a creche."

"Yeah. That's a crush."

###

From the back of the car on the return trip from Aldi, completely untethered from any directly preceding conversation:

"Jesus is alive."

"Right. So what does that mean?"

"It means when he dies, or people die, they aren't really dead. They are really alive. Their bones are in the future. And they are up there [pointing upward] in heaven. Up there. Like Ene's baby [brother] is up there. She told me that."

Shared history.

2010-12-23T15:51:00.001-06:00

The pink tree and village are from our first married Christmas -- we found them at the Otsego Antique Mall in southwestern Michigan, a place we visit nearly each trip to the Mister's hometown. He wore a jacket from there for our wedding.

The Santa is from our second married Christmas, and comes from a little antique shop in Clinton, Tennessee. On the trip we also procured a lovely old standing lamp (very fragile and unweildy, given away when the boy began to crawl,) vintage choir boy ornaments that to this day hang from our tree, and a wind up rooster alarm clock from the late forties or early fifties.

Our boy refers to any ornaments (and there are still a handful or two left: balls adorned with roses, green foiled pinecones, some spiral decorated balls, and a single precious acorn ornament...) we got for our first shared tree as our "wedding ornaments." Very sweet.

The longer we are wed, the longer we are a family, the more history we share. The better we get at it all, and the more we're able to incorporate the multiple facets of who we are.

Happy Christmas, my dear ones.

A day with my boy, just like all the others, and yet, a gift.

2010-12-21T12:20:00.001-06:00

The boy and I are home during our Winter Break -- We're having a day of domestic revolution.

We've mailed a batch of cards, jerry-rigged and loaded and started the dishwasher, done more outdoor Christmas decorating, swept the floors, put out trash and recycling....

Now the boy is trotting around the yard in pleather pants, making a soup of berries and water. These are the same pleather (black, natch) pants he has worn every single day since he put them on for his friend Ella's visit last Thursday. He even went commando to our church's Festival of Lights, a service of lessons and carols, on Sunday night.

At this very moment, I'm sitting on the front stoop watching my beautiful boy climb trees. He's telling me, "Only the kids in our family climb trees. Gabe teached me. Some day I'll climb higher."

Oh, I love love love this boy. He is such a gift in my life, and in that of my Mister. When he joins us in the big bed middle of the night, I often just watch him sleep. Listen to his deep contented breathing, smell his boy smell of sweetly sour breath and dirt and sweaty feet and Bert's Bee's shampoo. I feel just like I did after he was born when I'd hold him and weep in thanks and awe and wonder, and I lay there often in grateful tears, silently mouthing the words, "Thank you, God. Thank you. Thank you for this angel boy. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

At this moment, I am being called to "be a helper" in the making of soup of berries and twigs and leaves and rainwater.

In a short time, we'll return indoors to unload the dishwasher, sort and fold and put away laundry, then go through toys in the boy's room, placing the ones he is ready to part with into bags for another child.

These days with him, they are precious beyond words I can make into things. I know you mothers and fathers must feel this, too, whether like me, you have a singleton -- as a man recently remarked to me with a big grin -- or a whole passel of children.

God bless the child, indeed.

Four fights. In which we come out OK.

2010-12-21T09:42:00.002-06:00

Mama vs Pasta Serving Bowl

Pasta Serving Bowl: 1, Mama: 0 -- Sadly, during dish washing with a boy and a dog in the mix in our small kitchen, the bowl slid from the dish rack on the counter and broke beyond repair. A wedding present from some of the Mister's old friends from Chicago, we'd loved this serving dish and I'd oft used it for pastas and salads and fruit on our family table, as well as toted it full of goodness to friends who'd had babies and potlucks here and there. Its last use, in fact, was to carry a lemon pea spaghetti salad to a gathering on Friday.

Mister vs Brita pitcher

Brita pitcher: 1, Mister: 0 -- This particular Brita pitcher predates the Mister's existence in my life. They don't even make this exact version anymore. So while he was most sorry that he'd bumped it from the counter, I felt sure it was in part due to its overcrowded nature (the counter) and frankly, the pitcher had served me a long long time. The cracked pitcher went the way of the recycling bin, and a gift certificate from an unknown friend (this continues to happen for us when times get tough; how grateful we are!) helped me procure a replacement right away.

Boy vs Bob Books

Boy: 4, Bob Books: 0

As the boy's hunger for the written word has grown, we've played spelling games in the car, written letters and short words on his back, played with flashcards, shared reading duties with favorite Dr. Seuss and other easy readers. His perfectionistic streak has, up to now, made diving in a less than fully exciting prospect, no matter how very much he loves books, stories, and knowledge itself. His language acquisition and verbal capacity has always been at rapid fire pace -- his first words came at six months ("NiNi" for both Mama and for breastmilk, both, as well as "monkey" at the zoo; his first sentence at nine months old, a telling demand, "Give me that!" which referred to a Pippi Longstocking doll, and went right along with his sassy full on passionate nature.) It'd been a good while since we'd used the earliest Bob Books, so last night I pulled out a small stack and handed them to the boy in the livingroom. As I finished up a grant on my laptop and the Mister watched Monday Night Football on low volume, the boy snuggled up between us and read all four books out loud, from start to finish, noting that he was working hard on new words and was feeling very proud of himself. As were we. Proud of him, that is. Today, he'll get an altogether new stack.

Boy vs Neti Pot

Boy: 0, Neti Pot 1

The cough and snuffly nose that lingers is keeping all of us awake. We're running humidifiers, serving up steamy cups of tea, blowing, blowing, blowing. But this morning I asked the boy about trying out the neti pot. I myself love it. LOVE it. He agreed to try, and was fine at first, but double clutched (as the Mister might say) then sputtered and turned and snot went flying and neti pot water poured on the floor. Yes, there were tears. And tissue. And the passionate declaration, "I hate the neti pot. Can I never ever do it again?"

Traditions.

2010-12-20T09:16:00.001-06:00

We all have them. Traditions.

Especially this time of year. That's what I'm blogging about over at Nashville Parent Magazine's site, so check out this first in a series of holiday Tradition! posts.

Mistakes and anticipated mistakes.

2010-12-17T11:30:00.001-06:00

I have been corrected repeatedly for pronouncing "the" as "thee." And "either (read: E-ther) as "eye-ther."

By my five year old son, I mean.

In the car the other day, he told me that I make parenting mistakes. I make "yelling mistakes," and, he goes on, "the kind of mistakes like if you're driving to a birthday party and you take a wrong turn."

Last Tuesday afternoon he informed me that I'd gotten a note in his school folder for not sending his Encore (gifted program) folder to school.

I found no such note, but the point was most certainly taken.

And just shortly ago, when called by HR (at last!) to confirm my clearance and orientation date as the science lab teacher at Ziggy's school after the Winter Break, I told him that we'd be going to and from school each day together.

No "cool mom." Oh, no.

Instead, the thoughtful instructions, "When we're outside and Mrs. Flynn tells you to call someone over because I have told on them for doing something bad, don't say to them, 'let's just talk about it.' You should just tell them to go to time out."

"Oh, because I don't really use time out and what I usually do is talk about problems?" I ask.

"Right," he says.

"And you're worried I'll do the wrong thing," I ask.

"Yeah," he confirms. "At school you're just supposed to tell kids to go to time out. OK?"

Snow larder, part 2.0

2010-12-16T11:03:00.000-06:00

Two days out of school-- Monday and Tuesday. A half day yesterday, to accommodate the anticipated ice storm. Alas, the front moved Easterly fast. My family in the eastern part of the state are homebound today due to dangerous icy roads and low temps (that means my sister is not teaching today, and her girls are getting a jump on their winter break and are home with her today.) Here, I woke to rain and strangely balmy weather. When I walked into the darkened living room at 5:30 this morning to plug in the tree lights and fire up the Amish fireplace, I realized rather quickly that the latter was unnecessary.

I made coffee, put on a pot of cocoa, and cooked up bloody monster eyes (egg in a nest with a drizzle of ketchup) for breakfast. Readied a bag of outgrown standard school attire (SSA) to pass on to Ziggy's teacher for children in class, and tucked our wonderful gifted teacher's gift into a bag. We had a talk about not sharing hats or coats as the first case of lice has been confirmed in Ziggy's class, and it's only a matter of time before we may experience this, too. Then sent my boy off in his pirate jammies for pajama day at school, where his elementary school librarian will be reading Polar Express to the kindergarten children. It's a half day. I'll pick the boy up early, then he and I both have teeth cleanings. His will be his first, as our beloved dentist and hygienist have previously thought he didn't really need it until age 5.

This evening we'll have a friend's child over for supper and maybe a movie or a game or two of Bingo, as the child's parents have a holiday party to attend. Ziggy loves having friends here, and is pleased that we'll have another friend's child with us tomorrow, and yet another friend's child with us on Saturday afternoon. We've also offered to have a schoolmate attend church with us on Sunday, so we shall see....

In the meantime, I am doing a little meal planning.

In recent weeks, I instigated a mealshare with my girlfriend Erin. She and I both have three person families: two adults and young primary school aged boys. We feed our families well rounded omnivore type diets, enjoy cooking, and live within a mile of one another. Thus far, it's served as an inspiration to break my uncharacteristic non-cooking rut, and a desire to be creative, using what I have. She shares a meal with us on Mondays, I do Tuesdays. Another bonus to having a "meal in the bank" as it were, and to extending our flavors and styles of meals, is seeing one another even if only for a few minutes a couple times a week.

My snow larder list earlier this week has been much commented upon, not so much here, but in real life. I suppose I should clarify that the list is one of options and making one or two choices eliminates other choices because ingredients will get used up.

So far this week, I have prepared eggs and toast (with help from Ziggy,) bloody monster eyes, and tuna melts, and we have eaten from
Erin's rice and spicy beans. Additionally I have prepared a pot of pinto beans with CSA porkchops, along with cornbread, and a supper of taco soup and homemade macaroni and cheese. Both of these meals have been shared with friends, one for my friend Kate's family during the time their young son was in the hospital (he has been effectively treated and is now home!) and the other for the aforementioned mealshare with Erin's family.

Presently, I have some beautiful CSA leg quarters pulled from the freezer and thawed, ready to make into something. I believe I'll be trying out my friend Nibal's baked garlic chicken, something she calls a typical middle eastern dish, with the trinity of typical spices cinnamon, nutmeg and allspice. Yet I have no allspice.

I may borrow some, or have to do without.

What have you been feeding YOUR family?

Snow larder.

2010-12-13T09:23:00.002-06:00

Yesterday we went to church, dropped a meal to a friend who'd just had a baby, picked up one of Ziggy's classmates, then headed to a birthday party way on the west side of town for another classmate.

By the time we arrived home, well after three, this is what it looked like.

Rain had turned to snow, and began to accumulate. Temperatures, like in many other places around the country, dropped steadily. In the late afternoon the Mister's work holiday party as well as our Sunday Night Group were canceled for the evening. By nightfall, Metro Nashville Public Schools and most of the daycares, preschools and private institutions in the metro area has been called off for today. Accidents abounded.

I tucked Ziggy into our bed, leaving his open for a friend who was to fly in late last night from a business trip, believing that if his flight wasn't canceled, he might have an easier time getting to our home from the airport rather than making his way out to his own, quite a bit further away, but holding the heart lure of his beloved wife, newborn son and two young preschool aged sons.

Near one in the morning, I woke. Made sure the the faucets were dripping. Assured myself that the cats were in, and the dog was settled. Then began to take stock.

On an index card, I wrote the meal choices I can make over the next few days or a week, if I'm very careful to ration a few staples. I did not make it down into the basement last night to inventory the deep freeze, though I do know it contains a whole turkey, a few whole chickens, a pork roast, select vegetables, pasties from a shop in my husband's hometown, and a few other bits and bobs.

My snow larder meal option list looks like this:

Pintos & tortillas or cornbread
Roasted winter squash with pasta and sage, cream and asiago
Black bean and sweet potato enchiladas with spinach
Taco Soup
Potato-corn chowder
Pancakes
Pasta with boiled eggs and vegetables
French toast
Chicken & dumplings
Chicken Tetrazzini
Rice and beans (black, pinto or kidney)
Lentil stew, or dal with or homemade naan
Deviled eggs
Fritata
Omelettes
Biscuits
Vegetable soup
Mackerel patties

The milk is the main item needing some rationing. We've also got plenty of peanut butter and apple butter and bread and oodles of good farm eggs. We've got Cheerios and baking supplies for Mexican Wedding Cookies and Cracker Toffee and Banana bread.

Plenty of coffee and tea and nuts and tuna in cans. A bit of cheese and plenty of cornmeal.

We're set.

How about you?

Blasted damn fairy.

2010-12-12T20:37:00.001-06:00

We play this game involving Batman car driven by Dr. Doom and a random Star Wars figure.

The car zooms at standing rows of Indians, astronauts, Russian soldiers and other various warring figures.

A tiny fairy also rides along with Dr. Doom.

The defender of the warring figures throws a squishy frog at the Batmobile in attempt to stop it.

Key phrases heard from our boy during this game:

"Ow, my penis."
"That blasted damned fairy."
"That fairy, socialized by a river."

Stylin'.

2010-12-11T13:27:00.002-06:00

Yesterday morning the boy was taking an awfully long time readying for school. I snuck my camera through a cracked bathroom door and this is what I found: one five year old super stylin' kindergartener, dressed in spirit shirt and cords & jazzy lanyard / yo yo / Silly Band necklace, and a whole lotta hair product going into the faux hawk.

If it's like this already, I can not even anticipate the teen years.

But oh, my! Isn't he delicious?

Of Ceramic Donkeys and Gratitude.

2010-12-09T12:49:00.001-06:00

This past Sunday, the Second Sunday of Advent, Ziggy carried a ceramic donkey through the sanctuary to place it with the creche by the altar table. His friend carried a shepherd. They were so proud and careful, soberly coming down the aisle as the handbells chimed from the balconies surrounding us.

Ziggy then tucked into the pew beside us, and proceeded to do a sight word search in the bulletin insert through the service, choosing to remain with us to "work" and to take communion rather than exiting for the children's worship hour. This does not, of course, mitigate the fact that he lay beneath the pew in front of us on the floor, or that in a loud stage whisper he called to his adult prayer friend who was kneeling at the altar after taking communion. Church with our boy is always a spirited experience, his father's jaw clenching, me smiling at other parents with other young wildlings in nearby pews.

I wept through the service.

Members of the Homeplace community, a home for developmentally disabled adults, played a significant role in the morning's worship. Ruby, who helps in the three year old Sunday School class and therefore has been known to us since first we began to attend Belmont, was both baptised and received as a member of the congregation in an official capacity. It was so incredibly moving and beautiful. I am thankful to Sarah, a lovely high school senior who sat with her parents in front of us, for providing me with a much needed tissue to dawb at my eyes and runny nose. Hamilton read scripture about John the Baptist and both tickled and delighted me with his pauses to be sure we were all listening, and that he was taking his role very seriously.

Our worship leaders were so loving and sensitive and patient. None more so than the remarkable Lanecia, she of the beautiful countenance and face, with a hipster twist. Watching her walk Ruby through serving communion was a wondrous thing.

Too, I wept, because my husband and I had had words that morning, and because Ziggy threw things at me as I drove to church through the snow flurries, the last straw that caused me to pull off the road and have a bit of a come apart. And because I was feeling sick and congested and raspy in earnest. And remorseful that my come apart had frightened my child, albeit momentarily.

When evening came, I took him to the craft night at the church's community center. "Can you just drop me off, please?" he asked.

###

I've had the crud for days, though I seem-- at last-- about to round the corner. My voice is still a scratchy rasp, though the congestion is greatly diminished. I think that my family may be glad of my inability to speak much or well.

So what to do? Neti pot. Drink water. Extra rest. Walk with the dog, have sex with my husband (both boost the immune system.)

And for tonight's supper: sweet potato chicken soup with garlic and dill (yum!!) and a pan of Almost Zona's Drop Biscuits.

###

We're on a spending freeze. Being between jobs and at the end of the year has killed our budget dead. I'll start working for pay again next month, and there'll be student loan money, too. Thank goodness.

###

I hung the stockings on the banister. "We don't have a fireplace! How will Santa get in?" Ziggy wants to know.

###

I've yet to write our year end letter, and wonder if I'll really get it done this year. I give myself permission to let it be if I choose....

###

Another reason for the aforementioned spending freeze is the fact that my debit card has been compromised by someone who has made bogus purchases. Which leads to the cancellation of the card, a filed dispute and a few weeks to get things cleared up and the monies refunded to our account.

If it's not an essential purchase, we shall not be making it. If I haven't already purchased it, if I can't make it or borrow it or trade for it, or somehow pull it together from things already in stock, I won't be getting it for you for Christmas. Or your birthday. Or whatever.

Every once in a bit, it's not bad to simplify. To cut the fat. And to recognize that we have what we need, and much of what we want. And in comparison to much of the world, we are very wealthy indeed.

###

I have completed my first full semester as a graduate student. Yay, me! Classes attended, projects churned out and turned in. Graded, all but one.

###

I am thankful. For all of the above.

I pray for patience. For the willingness to forgive where forgiveness is sought. Including that of self. For the presence of mind and body and heart to be with those I love as fully as possible. To lean into now. To be grateful for blessings both small and large.

I am thankful, not just this Thursday, but always.

Annual letter work up.

2010-12-08T13:46:00.001-06:00

I'm helping my mother cull and insert the edits into the long standing annual La Grone family Christmas letter. Some of us are more particular than others about which photographs and descriptions and activities are included. You know how this goes.

Too, I'm reviewing my own last year's letter which was loooooooooooong. And preparing a shortie from the Nashville Babcocks for this year.

I asked Ziggy to help me write it, telling him I'd come up with topics and he could tell me anything about them that he wanted, but beyond School: "It's great. No. Awesome. I'm in kindergarten," and The Flood: "Our old house flooded and it was bad and made really gross mold that made us sick," he is uninterested.
"Write it yourself," he tells me.

So I'm left on my own to chronicle our year.

Do YOU do an annual letter or list of some sort?

"And so someone doesn't have a mudder."

2010-12-07T21:24:00.000-06:00

A special delivery today brought three beautiful needlepoint and monogrammed stockings from my mother, Diggy, as we all call her.

By my five year old boy's logic, the heartbreaking truth of these stockings is that they belonged to the now late Elizabeth Edwards.

Bedtime. We're saying prayers. Asking for comfort and protection for the folks left out in the cold. It'll get in the teens this night. Asking for comfort and peace for those Elizabeth Edwards leaves behind.

Ziggy: Who is she?

Ms. Booty Homemaker: Well, um, her husband ran for president....

Z: But who is she?

MBH: She was an attorney, and a very brilliant woman, and a mother.

Z: And now she's dead. And so someone doesn't have a mudder.

MBH: Yes. That's true, baby. It's very sad.

Z: They'll have to sell her things.

MBH: What?

Z: They'll have to SELL her things.

MBH: Where did you get that idea?

Z: Dad told me that. You know, Eric? Eric Charles Babcock?

MBH: Yes. I know him. He's my husband.

Z: Well, he told me that. That when people die they sell your things. You know why they do that? They do it because... Well, the reason they do it is because.... They do it because the other people might need the things.

(Pause, and a gasp..... )

Z: Those stockings! Those stockings must have been hers!!

MBH: Oh, honey, I don't....

Z: The ones Diggy sent! Those stockings! They were Elizabeth Edwards' and Diggy bought them.

Elizabeth, holding you in the light.

2010-12-07T10:56:00.000-06:00

Elizabeth Edwards is a woman for whom I have great admiration. Brilliant, big spirited, a mother for whom I have great respect. A woman who has lived through personal tragedy in a very public way. She has, to our view, remained classy and full of grace.

I am so deeply saddened to know that her health is in great decline and is expected to pass soon. My prayers are with her, and with her children, particularly the littlest ones, who just haven't had enough time with her....

Another woman I admire and respect, Katie Allison Granju, holds forth on Why Elizabeth Edwards is a Mothering Heroine to Me on her Babble blog. Well worth the read.

My prayers remain with you, too, Katie. Daily.

My Year In Facebook Status.

2010-12-07T10:35:00.000-06:00

'Tis the season.

2010-12-04T17:47:00.001-06:00

Sausage balls in the oven. And also my Mister's amazing orange glazed sweet potatoes that taste like love.

Dirty Santa gifts wrapped. Party shortly.

The Mister and I, we have just completed our semester. Well, actually, we completed our last class. We have a lingering assignment or two yet to turn in.

No tree up yet. That'll come. Along with lights and other festive goods.

Day four of a migraine that had me throwing up last night while trying to complete homework.

Wishing fervently for a day of laying about and drinking coffee in bed and reading or sleeping or snuggling.

Perhaps next weekend.

Good friends, deep thoughts, conversation.

2010-12-03T09:07:00.000-06:00

Lily is one of Ziggy's favorite friends. Here they are above having a pizza movie party a few months ago at our home. They wore jammies and watched Babe and sat on the coffee table.

They've known each other since Ziggy's second birthday, on which we met at the little park by our old house on Rosebank. And lo, these years later, the two attend the same elementary school in the middle of town, though they are each in a different kindergarten class. Over the years these two have attended one another's birthday parties, played at the park, and spent time with one another's families. Lily's mother and father are very dear. We sometimes carpool and swap out kidcare. Some years back, we all went to the circus together and the kids rode ponies and elephants.

This morning, I took these two to Pancake Pantry for a special breakfast before school, which meant extra early bedtimes last night, and an extra early commute into town this morning. Ziggy had pigs in a blanket, Lily had silver dollar pancakes with strawberries on the side. I had an omelet and hash browns.

What follows is the conversation that unfolded immediately upon sitting at the table and with absolutely NO lead in.

Ziggy: God is surrounding us.

Lily: Yes. Because God is in everything.

Ziggy: God is even in you, Mama.

Ms. Booty Homemaker: Yes. God is all around me.

Lily: God is inside you!

Ms. Booty Homemaker: Right. And in each of you.

Ziggy: You're a sister, Lily.

Lily: Because Nina is my baby sister!

Ziggy: Well, actually, there's another way you are a sister. You are a sister of God. Or a daughter. Like a sister of Jesus or a daughter or a son.

Lily: My mom said she's never going to give birth again.

Ziggy: Your mom is never going to have birthdays again?!

Ms. Booty Homemaker: I think she means she's not going to have anymore babies. Like I'm probably not going to, either, unless we adopt.

Lily: So I guess that means there will be no more boys. [sigh]

Ziggy: Yeah there will! Because of Dad and Bert....

At this point the kids shared the toys they brought for the school toy drive, our meals came, and we broke the fast before heading over to school.

I feel honored to spend time in the company of these delicious children.

Stocking stuffers and goodies for girls and boys.

2010-12-02T17:40:00.000-06:00

Excellent for holiday giving, I've supplies to make a limited run (to order) of Ms. Booty Homemaker's Potions.

Ms. Booty Homemaker's Potions

*Bath & body ($12 ea.)
or **body & room spray ($10 per) in various yummaliciousness including:
*******************************************

Sleepy Booty Baby & Kids
(settle for slumber)

Shake Your Booty
(Get your sass on. Invigorating!)

Love Your Mama
(MBH's signature scent. Earthy.)

Bug Off Booty
(room & body spray only -- buzzy buggies be gone. Safe for children.)

Joy Warrior
(Arise! Get your Julia Ward Howe on. Spread peace and joy.)

Happy Family
(room & body spray only -- Cranky kidlets? Quarreling spouses? Witching hour? Lighten and brighten up. Be good family.)

And especially good for this time of year:

Mama Booty's Snuffle Muffle & Ache Aid

(available in room & body spray only -- Soothe the sickies.)

Homemade with love and care with essential oils and natural ingredients. Packaged in non breakable aluminum spray bottles. Refills available at a reduced price!

*Bath & Body sprays are intended for use on human and domestic pets after bathing -- these contain moisturizing agents.

**Room & Body sprays are intended for use to mist on clothing, in the air, on pillows or to freshen laundry.

Hyper local yokel (East Nashville) free delivery available.

To order: paigelabab@comcast.net (MBH Potions in subject line, please)

Thankful Thursday.

2010-12-02T15:12:00.000-06:00

* A safe and largely enjoyable car trip with the family to and from southwestern Michigan.

* Sustained time with one another-- the Mister, the Boy, and me.

* The ravine.

* In-laws who are so good to me. To us. Their home which is open to us and a fine place to be.

* My sister-in-law, Ingrid, and plenty of time to catch up.

* Elsa Rae's cranberry sauce. Seriously. So so so good.

* Anna's gift of boxes and boxes of teacher resources for me and for the Mister.

* Warm heavy blankets on the big bed and the Mister not minding when the the Boy crawls in with us in the wee hours.

* The opportunity to enjoy the children in the Joyful Noise Singers last night at church while one of the choir teachers is out of town.

* An impending early bedtime.

And Another Thing.

2010-12-01T23:13:00.000-06:00

Happy day to me. It's my ten year anniversary of living in Nashville.

I signed the lease for my first little farmhouse attic apartment -- on Sunset Place in Hillsboro Village-- the day after Thanksgiving in 2000. I took possession of my little nest on December 1.

This is the longest I've lived anywhere in my life, and for now, it seems I'm pretty well rooted, doing my best to bloom where I'm planted.

Already, December.

2010-12-01T13:16:00.002-06:00

Thanksgiving was wonderful, with the extended Babcock and Christenson clan. No snow. No cornbread dressing. But plenty of Christenson family traditional homemade cranberry sauce with whipped cream. Ziggy and I ate well more than our share.

There was tromping in the ravine, where the Mister and I first spent so much time together nearly a decade ago when we first fell in love, and where we return, year after year, to tromp and to chuck pumpkins. For the first time in years, I crossed the creek on a log without shaking with fear and tearing up, insgtead declaring triumphantly (and only half jokingly) that I was doing Outward Bound for Middle Age Out of Shape Ladies. It seems that my Mister and I are learning after this time of times invested, to work together, to hold one another up. Sister in law Ingrid, in from London, was a champ and didn't even need a supporting walking stick as I did. My boy is a little goat, just like his father and grandfather. I am grateful he is more comfortable in his body, more trusting of it, than I've ever been in mine.

Ziggy is telling jokes by the dozens, improving his handwriting by lots of practice, and loves nothing more than school and family time. His well child annual checkup reveals him to be in the 98th and 97th percentiles for height and weight, respectively. I love love love his pediatrician. And his kindergarten teacher. And the woman he has proclaimed his Christ Teacher, our church's Children's Pastor.

What great fortune for my boy to have so many adults who are invested in his life!

Asked his favorite part of Thanksgiving, our boy tells us, "My favorite part is what Mrs. Flynn told me about why she is thankful for me. She is thankful for me because even when things are hard for me, I try really hard." What a wonderful teacher to encourage him so, and acknowledge his truth. Seriously love her.

And the pediatrician? She notes, "He's beautiful and strong and healthy. And he's matured a lot in the last number of months, but as you say, he is still spirited and intense. And that's the essence of who he is. We don't want all that to go away!"

The Mister commenting on Thanksgiving and such deeply enjoyed family time, "There's no substitute for that."

Right he is.

Me, I'm still waiting on HR to finish up their part of things so that I can start my job as science lab teacher at the elementary school our son attends. The time between the start of this job and the one I just left at RIP has been a surprise. No income, but a gift of time never before experienced since my becoming a mother.

I am in preparation for holidaying and finishing my first semester of grad school.

There will be travel to see my folks, my sister and her family, and hopefully a rendevouz with my brother, his wife, and their sweet baby girl with whom I've yet to acquaint myself. My oldest dearest group of girlfriends and their children will gather here at our little house on Maplewood late in the month. My parents will celebrate birthdays. There will be Sunday School and community parties for Christmas and Solstice. There are secret and dirty Santa exchanges. Baking and tidying and crafting to be carried out. Stockings to stuff for children for whom these treats may be the sum total of their holiday gifting. The family Christmas cards to be designed and ordered, the letter to be written. Gifts to be repurposed, sorted, wrapped, parceled out, and posted. Potions to brew up and sell.

I am reading again, quite a bit. Novels. Back to back to back. Too, non fiction for school, and for pleasure. I stay up too late into the night, all snugged up under heavy blankets, reading and reading. Doing this, I am tired. And a hunger in me is abated all at once.

Recently, Ziggy told me that my face looks old. His father's does not, but mine does. "Ouch," I said. "Why ouch?" said he, "It's just the truth." He has also related that Daddy does everything well but my list of "cooking and making the bed really good" pretty much covers it. Until recently when I've also been deemed to accomplish "good handwriting and good cleaning."

A perpetual and exponentially growing To Do list accompanies me everywhere. The calendar is my brain. The bulletin board by the door is pruned regularly. I say no when I can. Agree to help out with this thing and that when possible. To blog over at Nashville Parent, to volunteer time to the school and to church.

Our Mealshare experiment with another family is so far wonderfully positive. It is my hope to continue it, for community, nourishment, economics, and inspiration. Also, of course the time it saves.

I speak to my parents near daily. They are older. I am, too. I wonder what it'd have been like to have begun my family in my twenties. What it'd be like to adopt another child now. I long for this, as does my son. If we can get through the next year or so, school for me and the Mister, get us gainfully employed, maybe the boy and I can convince his father. I long not just for mothering another child, but for a sibling for my son. Mine-- my siblings, that is-- are a great joy in my life, companions I know will be forever friends with a shared sense of how it is to be in the world.

Time, she is moving faster than a flying nun, faster than a boy grows in a night of restless sleep, faster than Mister and his wife right old wrongs and settle in for an eventful ride.

Advent is upon us. A readying for the arrival of the innocent infant, and, too, a darkening. A spirit cleansing, and acknowledgement of the small mean hardness of the human experience, the murder of babies by Herod, and the ways in which that reflects on the time of today. History. Current Events. Liturgy. Daily reflection. There are yule logs to burn, literally and figuratively. Greening and sprucing up, ritual candles to be lit. Slumbers to sleep. Prayers to pray. Bulbs to force. Loves to be loved.

Days to be lived, wild and alive and anticipatory. Welcoming of what is, and what is to come.

(M)other.

2010-11-04T11:08:00.000-05:00

Watch Beth Osnes, my beautiful friend and former co-worker from Mothers Acting Up do her thing. Oh, you will weep and laugh and gasp and shiver and hiccup.

The Nashville MAU community hosted a performance of this piece along with the attendant workshop two (no! THREE) years ago at First Unitarian Universalist Church of Nashville. It was an amazing weekend of mother bonding, leading, sharing and creating.

Now you can order the DVD, or watch the whole show, right here, right now.

M-other: A One-Woman Performance to Inspire Mothers to Move from Concern to Action from Mothers Acting Up on Vimeo.

I'm bald!

2010-11-01T12:20:00.000-05:00

I participated in a St. Baldrick's event this weekend, and raised nearly $1400 toward pediatric cancer research and advocacy. (You can still donate, if you feel so led; NO pressure.) HUGE thanks to all of you who donated already, and / or came out the day of the event. We are so fortunate to belong to such an involved and loving community.

I was the first of 20 people who got shaved on Saturday, and our whole group raised $20,000!! It's been an amazing and humbling experience to participate.

Then I went and danced at my friend Erin's wedding. What a great time!

Halloween Jesus.

2010-10-10T11:21:00.001-05:00

The boy and I, we are home today, as we also were yesterday. I missed my first day of school. Missed giving my end of course presentation.

Ziggy has an ear infection. A barky nasty cough. Runny nose. Typical kid stuff. Vascilating from cheerfully singing "We're Not Gonna Take It," his favorite Twisted Sister song, to tearfully whining for a television show or a Mama cuddle or something to eat.

Clearly we're not at church this morning, but we've still had a theological discussion of sorts. A not at all unusual happening, but made a bit more interesting, and certainly funnier given the current season.

This morning, my boy carried this statue from where it sat in the windowsill to the dining table at which I was working on schoolwork.

"Is this showing when Jesus was DEAD?" he asked.

"No, baby, it's showing when Jesus was born."

"Then why does Jesus have on all that mummy tape?"

Great great question, leading to a discussion of swaddling clothes.

We feted five, and the house has been warmed.

2010-09-28T10:48:00.000-05:00

Yay, PProne.

2010-09-24T08:51:00.000-05:00

Completely exhausted, but also elated that the boy wanted to practice letter writing last night, and he brought home the shopping list he made in his classroom's home center with PProne on it. And LLP. And Cuke. And McNHz. (Pepperoni, Lollipop, cookie, macaroni and cheese) And milk.

Meantime, we are practicing carton opening and asking for help even if it means "bending a rule" a little by getting up to find a teacher. This is not easy for my boy, the very one who pushes boundaries and makes deals at home. At school, he is a rule follower.

This morning, for example, he wanted to wear sandals. I suggested that he wear the closed toe version instead of the open toe version because I believed the school suggested that. Then, quite recklessly, I presume, in attempt to just help him get dressed on time, said, "Oh, babe, I don't care! Wear those." To which my son replied with a most serious face, "Well, it's the school that cares." And he dutifully changed shoes.

This need for perfectionism is precisely why I'm so thrilled with phonetic spelling and the willingness to practice writing letters instead of what's become usual frustration at not already knowing how.

Yay, PProne.

LLPs for everyone.

Yes, dark circles under my eyes are making me look old and tired.

2010-09-24T08:24:00.000-05:00

(In answer to a random email promoting some kind of youth serum.)

Oh, and we have a house warming / birthday shindig here on Sunday. Between now and then, I need to: unpack the remaining boxes from our move here last month, do a good tidy and clean, bake birthday cake and prepare food for our Sunday guests, volunteer at my son's classroom for literacy center, pull a volunteer lunch shift and present cupcakes to my son and his best pal at school, attend school myself with homework completed, take my son to a soccer game and a birthday party, attend church and help out with children's worship.

Whew.

Ziggy at almost five years old at bedtime.

2010-09-21T22:07:00.001-05:00

"Can prayers fly? And if God is everywhere, covering everything, does He cover rats? And mosquitos? And chairs?"

And then, he told me about how he bought his lunch in the cafeteria with one juice and one milk but he didn't know how to open them and no one heard him ask for help and then he cried, and I wept a little, too.

And since he has his pull out enrichment program he missed recess AND his class cookie dance party.

And he missed his mom, because she had to work this afternoon and into the night, which is why he waited up....

There goes my heart. Outside my body. Not to college or to Europe like Sara's children, but just to the cafeteria at the elementary school in the middle of town, and still, it smarts.

Heat Waves and Bread Salad, Praxis Exams and Going Bald to Kick Pediatric Cancer's Ass.

2010-09-21T10:32:00.000-05:00

Gosh, I haven't been here in a long while.

There's work and school and the boy's school, and the Mister's school and work. There's laundry and baking and suppers to prepare. A heat wave to navigate. Parties to attend and make. New glasses and Levi's to shop up and wear, and Praxis exams for which to study study study.

There's a yard to mow and friends to see, children to love on and care for, snacks to individually bag and miles to drive every day. So much driving. More laundry, bedtime routines, magazine fundraising sales and room mother duties. There are grandparents to visit and to come to town, a dog to walk, a fish to bury. Playdates, and adult dates, and the calendar remains my brain. There's PTO and community outreach, and children's ministry and dishes to wash. A family to love. Life to live.

So I was on the radio a few weeks back, here. What do you think?

And I'm also going bald on October 30, to kick pediatric cancer's ass. Won't you give a little or a lot? And pass the word on, please?

It is the year of the child in my world. Raising one to become a fine man. He's five this week. Volunteering in the boy's classroom, working daily with kids at RIP, throwing my time and talents into children's ministry at church, going to soccer practices and games, toting extra children in booster seats, learning how to make a difference as a prospective elementary teacher, and mostly loving it all.

Open letter to my parents, which could be to YOUR parents, too.

2010-08-23T10:04:00.000-05:00

Dear Mom and Dad,

I think you know how much we three kids love you. And respect you.

But, too, becoming a parent, as we are all about to be (in what? Nine weeks, Jeffrey?) it becomes OH-so-clear what you really do and want and fight for your child(ren.) Our appreciation and reverence of you grows.

Thank you not for just giving us the stuff we needed, but also so much of what we wanted. When we were little, I bet we never thought about how much dance class or soccer or other activities cost in the way of money or time. And honestly, that's appropriate, I think. We just knew you "let us" do stuff that was cool and fun. As a parent now, with a beloved boy in kindergarten and taking kung fu and being on a soccer team and attending church activities and singing in the choir, I have a much greater appreciation for the money that was earned and budgeted for these things, and for the time it took to ferry us back and forth, and in many cases, to be present while we practiced or played. Thank you. Thank you for giving us those amazing opportunities, over and over for YEARS, and for setting that kind of parenting example. I've seen Dana (and Keith) do that for their girls for some time now, and Eric and I are following suit with Ziggy, as Jeffrey and Laura will no doubt do for their daughter.

Thank you for retrieving forgotten soccer balls and orthodonture, for driving us to field trips, packing lunches, spending tedious amounts of time in meetings as volunteers and as earners. Thank you for allowing me to buy the special cafeteria lunch when it was a fall holiday one (I'm actually teary thinking of how much that meant to me at the time, and the fact that Ziggy came home last week and asked me to give him some money, please, to try out buying a lunch.) Thank you for miles to and from Miss Mortimer's Dance Studio, for Burger Chef and Jeff on the evenings of recitals, for rising early to get us to Sunday School and Sunrise Service to serve French Toast. For sacrificing your own wants for ours when the occasion warranted it.

We had a really good childhood. And we had the good fortune to know we'd always be provided for. Thank you for helping US be better parents than we'd have been without your example, which continues to this day, of love and generosity and a sense of fun.

I love you both so very very much, and that love expands and becomes ever more layered as I myself mother my own child.

XXX
Your Daughter, the oldest one

The first day of kindergarten.

2010-08-12T20:50:00.000-05:00

"I LOVED it," he told us over supper.

The hottest day of the year: settling in on Maplewood.

2010-08-04T21:16:00.000-05:00

Back to school haircut and the library book from which he will not be separated.

2010-07-22T09:36:00.000-05:00

Questioningly.

2010-07-20T16:34:00.000-05:00

The questions, they come every day. Good ones. Deep ones. Ones that aren't always easy to answer. My mission is to always be approachable, to be honest, and to answer what he needs to know. His train, it goes the way of believing in multiple Gods, a Santa for "each village," and wildness that stems from a box or a switch in his mind where also the Hulk sometimes resides, throwing bowling balls at his chest. The questions, they come every day.

Of those today, here are but two:

1. "Mama, could you die if you didn't ever poop?"

2. "Do prisoners sometimes get killed? In prison? By the master of the prison?"

Hold on tight. This parenting gig is a helluva ride.

Readying.

2010-07-20T09:54:00.001-05:00

Size six pants for my not yet five year old boy.

Star Wars undies and boxer briefs.

Crayola crayons and Crayola markers. Clearview binder, spiral wide rule Batman notebook. Socks with skulls, and easy to match white ones w/ colored toes, too.

Ladies and gentleman, we have a rising kindergartener in the house, equipped with backpack and lunchbox (he prefers to use his familiar old ones as he knows how to open and close them already, a practical conceit I can greatly appreciate.) Too, his standard school attire (SSA) wardrobe is fully stocked, his size 13 feet have running shoes and enclosed water friendly athletic sandals. (Cooler weather will necessitate all weather mocs of some kind.) He's got the scissors and composition notebook and the box of pencils and the other items on the supply list, plus baby wipes and glue sticks to donate to the classroom, and an armfull of Silly Bands, just for the fun of it.

My boy. Oh, my.

More Maplewood details.

2010-07-19T10:24:00.000-05:00

From Rosebank to Maplewood, the earliest stages.

2010-07-18T01:47:00.000-05:00

Papa holding court.

2010-07-15T11:19:00.002-05:00

Things we've been doing.

2010-07-13T22:21:00.003-05:00

Swimming.
Laughing.
Listening to and making music.
Being sick. Oh, dear. I have strep. Again.

Growing and buying new shoes and clothes (Ziggy doing the growing, me doing the buying.)

Going to the Y.
Visiting with friends.
Reading. Playing board games. Painting pictures on brown paper bags.

Preparing for school: mine, the Mister's, and Ziggy's.
Looking for a job.

Visiting and playing and eating and having a big time with family at North Topsail Beach in North Carolina.
Retracing some of our honeymoon path (thanks, Babe) on the way home from the beach.
Visiting the doctor's office.
Cooking up and serving beautiful CSA meat, eggs and produce.
Sorting through mail.
Picking up prescriptions.
Taking vitamins, drinking lots of water, sleeping extra.

Watching Star Wars.
Talking to FEMA.
Finally connecting with the insurance adjuster about my damaged wagon from the May accident.
Arranging for repair of said vehicle and rental vehicle during its repair.

Really coming to understand that the sickness is mold influenced and that the flood just keeps on giving.
Looking for a new place to call home.
Sorting through scam listings of rental homes.

Finding and signing a lease on a sweet little square brick home with three bedrooms (the upstairs for the boy's slumber and play quarters, the smallest bedroom as a mini man-cave for the Mister's office and CDs and comics and bits and bobs, the other for the love nest,) a dining room (which we've not had for three years now,) two full bathrooms (!!!), a deck, more kitchen space than I've had in ages, with a dishwasher, even, a first.

Packing, sorting, purging. Dreaming paint colors and moving furniture in the imagination. Thinking home.

Green things in the fridge.

2010-07-02T22:39:00.003-05:00

Avocados

A lime with one quarter missing

Rhubarb

Carrot tops

Cucumbers

Zucchini

Dill encrusted farmer's cheese

Garlic scapes

Summer is here. The last two days have been lovely with the windows open for coffee on the sunporch.

The boy is growing. New shoes times two this week. He is really swimming, and diving for things in the three feet water and running very very fast.

A family beach vacation with the La Grone clan waits in the wings. School will come quick like. For all three of us. The Mister will continue his graduate studies getting his Master in the Art of Teaching. The boy will begin kindergarten in Hillsboro Village. And I will join the Mister at Trevecca in the same program getting my own Master in the Art of Teaching. Fall 2011 could see all three family members at three different elementary schools.

My middle ear infection hasn't gotten better for months and months, and now has gotten worse making for rounds of vertigo and foolish unsteady feet with falls I tried for weeks to excuse by my clumsiness. Post flood, the boy and I can not get well.
So: we are looking for somewhere to move. A bigger newer less moldy place, though we love our sweet old charactered home. We've been here three years now. But healing and learning, they are the current thing, and we need it now.

I never did get anything in the ground by way of a garden this year. Some potatoes came back. And the strawberries, which were all eaten by critters (rabbits, birds) before we could harvest them.

I have extra kids on hand. Boys, largely. Boisterous, farting, laughing, wrestling, loud and funny and cuddly boys who ask, "Who do you like better? Me, or him?" Boys who eat everything and boys who seem to subsist on air and yogurt without lumps. We swim and play and drive in the car and they say, "Play 'Turn me on, Turn me off' -- it's our favorite song," and "Nirvana is my favorite band." They paint and sing made up verses of "He's Got the Whole World In His Hands," or listen to the Beatles, learned either from his music loving parents or his Wii. I haul them to Vacation Bible School where I lead the recreation and my son proudly shows off "my church," with the people he knows he belongs to, the ones who blessed him and laid their hands on him and poured water on his head and laughed when he did karate chops and a Superman jump from the steps just below the baptismal font.

Me and Mister, we're finding more satisfaction in things and generally grooving along nicely. At last, nearly five years since having had it cut off and then losing it eventually, I have replaced my wedding band.

I still need a job other than tending kids, but I sure enjoy spending my days with them.

We need more money for gasoline to drive meals to friends who have babies, and to join members of our Sunday School class for fellowship and to ride over to Ashland City to eat catfish and look out at the river and watch hummingbirds. We need more time to go canoe the Harpeth and attend baseball games and take hikes with the dog and to walk the neighborhood, nodding at friends and strangers and knowing we have full bellies and each other's hands to hold.

Mothers don't sleep, thinking about their children, and the children of others, too.

2010-06-12T04:31:00.000-05:00

A leg of the journey.

2010-06-10T20:29:00.000-05:00

Pow!

Between the bruises and busted blood vessels, my thick peasant legs are a veritable blue highways map to some kind of dense inelegant history.

In my head today I composed a little piece about being this weight and size, how that affects me. Affects those who love me. But ultimately, I am compelled to say just that I have been making it to the Y for the 6 AM classes of Zumba and Ultimate Circuit, and asking my body to do things that are very hard for it. Even today, after a dinner date at Pad Thai Kitchen while the boy was at the final night of Vacation Bible School, and a ridiculously embarrassing spill at the bottom of the steps in the parking garage.

"Why do you keep falling down in front of me?" asked the Mister, who'd also witnessed the basement steps tumble on the day of the flood. The tumble in which I bruised myself crazy shades of indigo on much of my body, and severely injured my coccyx, though somehow refrained from breaking a limb or concussing myself.

Just two weeks from the date of injury, in the sanctuary prior to our son's baptism, our utterly fantastic children's pastor lovingly asked, "So how's your butt?"

It hurt then, and still nearly six weeks out, it hurts. But it hurts less. And hurts more to be out of shape. Hence, my ample ass has returned to exercising after a break toward healing and stepped up the game.

And on this subject, at this particular time, that's what I got.

I show up. I go slow. Yet I go.

The advent of the morning box.

2010-06-07T05:49:00.000-05:00

In an ongoing effort to simplify, organize, and give us a better start to each day, today, Monday, is the advent of the morning box.

The boy and I prepared them last night. One for him (as above) and one for me (mine already emptied of yoga pants, tee shirt, running shoes, undies, bra, socks for my inaugural Zumba class.) Once we got past the idea that the toothbrush and toothpaste didn't need to go in the morning box, that it would be "like" his cubby at school but not go *inside* his cubby at school, and that the lunch would be placed on top in the morning, we were set. In went a filled water bottle for the car, a choice of undies, socks, tee shirt, shorts and shoes. Also the school bag of freshly laundered nap mat sheet and blanket.

Surely the wisest among you have mastered this. Us, we're still working on it.

In other news, the boy tells me that five days is a lot of days and that school days are awfully long and that napping at school makes him have to stay until evening, that he misses me too much except on the days he doesn't go to school. And I have to say, I've been feeling the same way since I no longer work next door to his school and that our time commuting across town feels a bit forced. Changes are brewing. We both need a break what with kindergarten not sneaking up to the backdoor, but walking briskly down the sidewalk toward us. That, and a job shift for me (this part remains as yet unknown,) and my hope to return to school this fall on the heels of the Mister, also to get my Masters in Education in the Art of Teaching.

In the meantime, we find great joy and comfort in having joined our church, which we really love. We kicked up our Super Summer children's series yesterday, artfully planned and executed by our beloved children's Pastor Heather (Ziggy's pronounced "Christ Teacher") and a slew of parent volunteers. I so enjoyed working with the fourth, fifth and sixth grade children, and am especially pleased that we have integrated (bumpily, perhaps) the Golden Triangle community into this children's programming of largely native English speakers and country dwellers.

Ziggy is also for the first time participating in Vacation Bible School at our dear neighborhood Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) which is an ecumenical K-6 program co-sponsored by the neighborhood Episcopal and Presbyterian churches. Last night was the first night and the sweetest, loveliest thing with a family cookout and lawn games and an original curriculum called Batter Up! all about the Bible Hall of Famers Hannah, Lydia, Peter and Ruth, there because of their gifts of service and stepping up to the plate when called.

The Y pool is open and the boy and I are using it regularly. Our CSA boxes are coming each week and gloriously supplying us with delicious goods. The Mister made a Michigan run for Memorial Day, and we are at this point, trying to configure our lives to join in on a La Grone family beach vacation later this summer before all the kids are back at school and all the teachers and adult students report for duty.

There in Spirit: in honor and remembrance of Henry Louis Granju, 1991-2010.

2010-06-05T20:14:00.002-05:00

We three have held Katie Allison Granju and her son Henry in the light since having learned of his brutal assault, drug overdose, and untimely death at age 18.

Today, Henry was celebrated and remembered at a service in his hometown of Knoxville, Tennessee. Here in Nashville, our little family participated in a remembrance project There In Spirit, lovingly instigated by Ayun Halliday.

We are thinking of Henry today, and all who loved him. Will go on loving him. Will remember and celebrate him this day, and all the remaining days. Lifting the family in prayer in this time of loss, and lack of resolution with regard to justice. May peace prevail.

Now that it's Summer: Summer Safety Tips for Kids - Balancing Freedom and Safety

2010-06-01T12:26:00.002-05:00

I'm sharing what seems to my mind to be a fair minded and practical article on children's safety, reprinted by permission, by the wonderful Amy Tiemann of Mojo Mom. (of course, that's my very own Ziggy up there on our church playground the other morning.)

Thank you, Amy.

Summer Safety Tips for Kids - Balancing Freedom and Safety

As summer approaches, kids across America will be spending more time outdoors - roaming the neighborhood and exploring nature. Most parents want their children to experience the same freedom we did as kids, but we all know times have changed. So, how can parents strike a balance between keeping their kids safe while giving them freedom to spread their wings this summer?

Dr. Amy Tiemann is editor-in-chief of the new book Courageous Parents, Confident Kids: Letting Go So You Both Can Grow and she's also the North Carolina center director for Kidpower, an organization that teaches kids to be successful in learning and practicing personal safety, confidence, self-protection and advocacy skills. The skills taught by Kidpower help participants prevent or stop most bullying, molestation, assault and abduction.

According to Dr. Tiemann, we can and should give our kids the freedom to participate in outdoor play that is tailored to their match level of development and responsibility. In order to do this, first parents and kids need to be clear on the ground rules:

Kidpower Safety Rules for Children when They Are on their Own

I will tell my parents where I am going, and I will check in with them if the plan changes.
Most people are good. This means most strangers are good.
A stranger is just someone I don't know and can look like anybody.
The rules are different when I am with an adult who is taking care of me and when I am on my own. When I am on my own, my job is to check first with the adult in charge before I let a stranger get close to me, talk to me, or give me anything.
If I am old enough to be out on my own without an adult to ask, it is safer to be where there are other people close by to get help if I need it.
I do not give personal information to a stranger or to someone who makes me feel uncomfortable.
It is OK to get help from strangers if an emergency is happening to me, and there is no one close by that I know.
My job is to check first with the adult in charge before I go anywhere with anyone (a stranger or someone I know). I will tell the adult in charge where I am going, who will be with me, and what I will be doing.
I will have a safety plan for how to get help anywhere I go.
If anything happens that makes me scared or uncomfortable, I will tell my parents or another adult who can help me.

To Be Able to Follow These Rules, Children Need to Practice these Kidpower Skills

How to stand and walk with awareness and confidence
How to move out of reach from someone approaching them
How to walk away from a stranger without waiting even if that person is being very nice
How to check first even when someone says not to
How to get help from a busy or insensitive adult if the child is lost or scared
How to make noise, run, and get to safety in case of an emergency
What to say and do if a stranger approaches them at home

Parents Need to Follow Ground Rules as Well

Stay in communication with other parents who are watching your children, and don't assume the parenting style is the same as yours.
Check in before a playdate or party and don't be afraid to ask questions and communicate your expectations about how much adult supervision will provided, and how closely the group will be watched. An awkward conversation is better than an unsafe situation!
When you leave your child in the care of other adults, designate one adult to watch over your child and then confirm they are willing to do so. Do not assume that there is "safety in numbers" during a large group gathering such as a pool party or cook-out. On the contrary, in group settings a "diffusion of responsibility" may develop when it is not clear who is in charge. It's important to do a mindful, confirmed verbal "hand off" of childcare duties every time, especially in these situations, even with your own partner, family member, or childcare provider.

When parents and kids develop strong safety skills, kids can grow into more freedom and responsibility. It is well worth investing your time and attention in these strategies so that your family can enjoy a safe and adventurous summer!

Amy Tiemann, Ph.D. is the author of Mojo Mom: Nurturing Your Self While Raising a Family and founder of the popular online resource MojoMom.com. She collaborates with the contributors to the new book Courageous Parents, Confident Kids to lead the way to a new era of empowered parenting. These safety rules are adapted from the work of Kidpower founder and Courageous Parents, Confident Kids contributor Irene van der Zande. For more information on Kidpower safety principles and personal safety training for kids and adults, visit www.Kidpower.org.

Weeping from the Universal mother place at another mama's unimaginable loss.

2010-06-01T00:30:00.000-05:00

Broken hearted in my universal mother place for mother & writer friend Katie Allison Granju -- I've just waken from falling asleep earlier with my four year old beautiful brilliant musical firstborn (only) son to learn that Katie's eighteen year old beautiful brilliant musical firstborn Henry has passed from this world after a drug overdose and a violent and brutal beating after which he spent the next thirty plus days fighting a valiant battle to live in the hospital. Katie has written of this beautifully and passionately. Oh, Katie, our hearts are with you, our tears fall for you. Rest in peace, Henry. 1991-2010

In Other News.

2010-05-16T07:12:00.002-05:00

I was in a little car accident on the way to Chelle's house the other day to drop off some donations for flood affected families. This was after taking the boy to school and the dog to the country vet well outside of town, and running into Lane Bryant and then Costco really really fast. My car's drivable and there are lots of good things about when and how it happened, but I'm sore as hell on top of my busted tailbone and already bruised self from having spectacularly fallen down the basement steps during our failed attempt to bail water out of the basement. And I almost cried all over Chelle saying ,"It's alright."

My parents are in town and I love them so, but oh, they are a bit high maintenance. Which they in fact know. I can't bring them here to the river smelling explosion of basement crap everywhere. It's OK. They didn't like their food at Noshville, and Ziggy was pretty well wired. But supper at Las Maracas next to our Y with them was really nice, as was a cone at Pied Piper after.

My folks are here in town because the Mister and I are at last transferring our memberships from other churches to Belmont UMC today, and because Ziggy has decided he wants to be baptised. I had my doubts about it, as I was wary about his idea about it, but when he told me, "It mean uhscepting the love of God that's already there," I immediately knew he got it in the way I felt really good about and I like very much the idea of our village at church stepping up to "own" him and love him and be his family, too. And I'm all weepy just typing this because it's a beautiful thing. And I'm glad my super social wild child has a group of folks who are so OK with letting him be him and that even if he jumps around on the steps during his baptism or asks a lot of questions or sings a few lines of The Clash, these folks think he's great and love him to pieces. And I'm grateful.

Pennies receptacles out in the community!! Thanks to local businesses and other public places.

2010-05-15T07:36:00.004-05:00

Be on the lookout for Pennies & Prayers Parade penny collection jugs out in our community. As of right NOW, the list of places to encounter or soon encounter one include:

Pied Piper Creamery

Pied Piper Eatery

Fairytales Bookstore and More

Riverside Piggly-Wiggly

Bongo Java East

Sip

Castrillo's Pizza

Mitchell Delicatessen

Cumberland Hardware

Art & Invention Gallery

I Dream of Weenie

Wonders on Woodland

3 Crow Bar

Beyond the Edge

Woodland Presbyterian Church

Belmont United Methodist Church

Caudle Veterinary Clinic

Alexander's Catering

Portland Brew East

These lovely receptacles are available for congregations, schools, shops, restaurants, and other public places!!
Monies will be delivered in lump sum from Bridge Builders-- a peace and social justice club for children (of all ages) and their caregivers-- to the Flood Relief fund through Community Foundation of Middle Tennessee. All funds will be specifically designated to the children's relief fund.

This is an excellent way for our littlest citizens to lend an assist, and a way for those of us without large amounts of disposable income or other resources to make a difference. The little things -- pennies and prayers -- they add up!!

A few local children's pastors are utilizing Pennies & Prayers in their Sunday services, as well. If you would like to do so at your school, temple or church, holler. I can help.

All thanks to the wonderful Jessi Goodwin for label design and conception and contruction of receptacles from superwoman Samantha Hamernik Williams. Let me or Sam know if you want one of these for your congregation, community space, or place of business. More to come on http://www.penniesandparades.blogspot.com -- so grateful for the enthusiastic response of others. ALL monies raised through this project go children's relief fund through the The Community Foundation of Middle Tennessee's flood relief fund.

Add your photo and interfaith prayer to http://www.penniesandprayersparade.blogspot.com by emailing photo and text to paigelabab.penniesandprayers@blogger.com -- Your photo and any text in the email will upload automatically.]

Copy the code below and paste into your blog or website:

A little basketball, a little drawing of space ship with aliens....

2010-05-13T21:13:00.002-05:00

Preschool graduation morning.

2010-05-13T08:25:00.000-05:00

"Because I thought I looked good this way."

WHO is this big kid? All dressed in his kindergarten uniform, squirreled away during sales and grandmother shopping expeditions.

The day of the first strawberries of the season.

2010-05-12T23:25:00.000-05:00

Mobilizing the mamas (and daddies) -- E Nashville flood relief in bite size bits for families with young children

2010-05-12T12:54:00.000-05:00

Thanks to so many of you for getting in touch. If I haven't written or called you individually, I'll attempt to get to it as soon as I'm able. Like you, I'm in my householder years, and like many of you, I'm also digging my family out of our own flood damage.
That in mind, here are some opportunities straight away:

1) Toys of all kinds can be donated at Fairytales Booktore at Riverside and Porter, next door to Pied Piper Eatery. On *TUESDAYS* a portion of Fairytales sales will go to the Red Cross. The plan for collected toys is to have them distributed to daycares and churches (some of which lost all materials for children's programming.)

East Park Community Center is functioning as a Disaster Relief Center and will take all sorts of household and personal items for flood affected folks. If you can not get there on your own, the following are other drop sites:

2) Toys that will go to specific needs *as they arise* can come to my front porch: 410 Rosebank Ave.

3) Adult clothing / shoes / accessories for donation (EXCEPT underclothes) can come to my front porch: 410 Rosebank Ave.

4) Diapers, formula, hygiene items and bulk dry food and other items can also come to my front porch.

5) All children's clothing items and underclothes for babies, children, teens and adults (new or GENTLY used -- socks, undershirts, nightclothes, tights, hose, bras, panties, boxers or briefs....) can be dropped in the proper bins at 1116 Ordway (corner of 12th & Ordway.) See below for how to sort:

BABY- sizes 0-12mos.

GIRL-sizes 2-10

BOY-sizes 2-10

OLDER Girl/Boy-sizes 10-Jr. (or through teenage sizes)

ALL underthings should go to this location, and be **separated** from street clothing items.

******

6) Samantha Hamernik Williams is spearheading penny receptacles for the Pennies & Prayers Parade project. She has the ability to tell you what we are using (gallon jugs and / or coffee cans, and supply you with links to labels to be printed out.) IF you determine a public place for the receptacle (your place of worship, your ice cream shop, gas station, diner, school, etc.) let me know -- I'm keeping a list of all collection sites and will be available or find another volunteer who is available for pick up and coin rolling. Contact Samantha here:

shamernik@hotmail.com
1 615.636.5191 ******

shamernik@hotmail.com

1 615.636.5191

******

7) If you haven't yet photographed yourself and your loved ones with prayer / inspirational thought, please do so and send it directly to the Pennies & Prayers Parade blog here: paigelabab.penniesandprayers@blogger.com -- Anything in your email will upload directly to the website (http://www.penniesandprayers.blogspot.com) The intention is for this action to be interfaith, intergenerational, intercultural, interdependent. Share with friends both far and near. The more participants we have, the greater the good energy and the powerful positive focus on our city in its time of need. You can also donate to the flood relief fund via the pay pal button at the site. (ALL monies donated from receptacles and pay pal will be donated in lump sum to the Community Foundation of Middle Tennessee's flood relief fund. In the meantime, money will be in a non profit bank account and set aside specifically for this purpose.)

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8) Free childcare-- *for YOUNG children* whose families are flood affected OR are volunteering for flood relief --is being offered by the very wonderful Beth Seiters of Riverwood House (a home school environment for young children.)

http://riverwoodhouse.blogspot.com/

477.1547

9) Penny rollers, errand runners, bakers, all welcome and needed at some point if not today.

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10) Larger household items (mattresses, furniture, medium / large appliances, etc.) are being collected at a building donated by the generous Allison and March Egerton on Gallatin Rd. Please see info below for details, and let me or Angie Edwards know if you are able to work a shift to receive these items.

The storefront space at 407 Gallatin Road (next to Sherwin Williams and
across from Firestone, near East Literature School) generously made
available for receipt of FURNITURE AND OTHER LARGER ESSENTIAL ITEMS for
starting a new household, such as, lamps, lighting, appliances, AC/heating
equipment, duct work, vanities and other construction-related items, is
EXPANDING ITS HOURS for the rest of this week for receipt of your donated
items. Please make sure that all items donated are in good condition, clean
and have not been in the flooding. If you are wondering what we are able to
take, just keep in mind that we are not looking for everything you could
clean from your attic - THINK MORE ESSENTIAL LARGER ITEMS that people would
need to start out a new home. Décor, artwork and picture frames, etc. would
come later, for instance. Also, for now, clothing and smaller house-wares
donations are still being received at the East Park Community Center; only
the larger items being taken at 407 Gallatin.

EXPANDED HOURS FOR RECEIPT OF ITEMS:
*        Wednesday, May 12 - 9:00 AM - 1:30 PM (NOTE: One person will be
available to help with heavier lifting between 11 AM and 1:30 PM) and 5:00 -
7:00 PM
*        Thursday, May 13 -- 9:00 AM - 1:30 PM (NOTE: One person will be
available this entire time to help with heavier lifting) and 6:00 - 8:00 PM
*        Friday, May 14 - 9:00 AM - 1:30 PM (NOTE: One person will be
available to help with heavier lifting between 11 AM and 1:30 PM)
*        Saturday, May 15 - 9:00 AM - 1:00 PM
*        Sunday, May 16 - TBD
If anyone has donations this week outside of these listed times, or if you
have items but truly do not have a way to get them to us, please call
Barbara Brown at 615-516-1504 to make an appointment for a drop-off or for a
possible pick-up time. Generally, when delivering you will need to have
with you the manpower to lift large items from the vehicle and move them
inside since volunteer staffing will be minimal except during those
particular times noted above. We do have one hand-truck at the location to
help move things.

As mentioned earlier, INITIALLY this location is open ONLY FOR THE RECEIPT
OF DONATIONS OF SUCH LARGER ITEMS. We will first build the stock, get it
organized and then we will let everyone know when/how we will be able to do
the distribution of such items to the people in need.

Again, many thanks to property owners Alison and March Egerton and Dan
Heller for donating the use of this space!

Sincerely,

Angie Edwards
Volunteer
615-569-1128
awe1220@gmail.com

Contact me with questions / comments / ideas for what YOU can do, here:

Paige La Grone Babcock

615-750-3780

mobile mama 495-1879

paigelabab@comcast.net

Coordinating the parent / child arm of volunteer teams on the Eastside, in partnership with ArtHouse Gardens

http://www.penniesandprayersparade.blogspot.com

Participate in the Pennies and Prayers Parade, and share the opportunity widely!!

Coin receptacles available for public places!

2010-05-12T11:37:00.001-05:00

Business owners, congregations and other public places: if you'd like to have a labeled coin receptacle to support the Pennies & Prayers Parade, a project of Bridge Builders (a peace & social justice club for children (of all ages) and their caregivers)-- give me a shout!! ALL
money raised will be donated in lump sum ...to local flood relief fund at The Community Foundation of Middle Tennessee.

A group of parents spearheaded by Samantha Hamernik Williams are covering the East Nashville area -- if others wish to take on their own neighborhood, please collect and clean coffee cans and gallon jugs (from milk or water) for your receptacles. Contact me for labels, and to get signed up.