The Freshman 15

George and Susan sit either side of a table, with coffee. 

There's a definite lack of sparkling conversation. 

George forces a smile at Susan. There's a long pause, broken only by Susan sighing. 

George finally thinks of something to say.

GEORGE: I, uh, oh, broke a shoelace today.

SUSAN: Oh, I can get you shoelaces tomorrow.

GEORGE: Okay.

SUSAN: So, what color?

GEORGE: Brown.

Susan nods her comprehension, as George muses for a moment.

GEORGE: Maybe a black.

It’s been about 6 weeks since our kids left for college.  While some things are definitely different, other aspects of my life remain unchanged.  I’m slowly learning to navigate this new stage of life and I’ve come up with a list of 15 things I’ve noticed about being an empty nester.

1. We’ve got our Friday nights back.

2. And our Saturday mornings.

3. And Wednesday afternoons. After years of filling them with football games, Cross Country meets, plays, and little league games, it seems weird to look at the calendar and see nothing on the schedule so…

4. We’re making plans together. Last month we took some long bike rides. We went to a book signing and saw a show at the theatre. This month we are signed up for a cooking class. Data shows a slight increase in the number of days I was voluntarily NOT in my pajamas by 8pm.  

5. We’re making plans apart. Paul’s playing tennis a few times a week and I’m taking a class on Tuesday nights. Paul sings in the choir and I love my Friday morning cycle workout.

6. We’re talking. but now it’s less about parenting logistics and more about tennis and class and choir and cycle workouts. One of Paul’s favorite quotes from Seinfeld is when George Costanza is having a mundane conversation with his fiancé and says, “I broke a shoelace today.” We don’t want to be that old couple you see in the restaurant staring at each other or their phones because they have nothing to say.

7. We are cooking less... Without the structure of family dinners, our eating patterns are less regular. It’s easier to spontaneously go out when there’s fewer schedules to coordinate. So, we’ve spent less on groceries and more on restaurants and that brings me to my next point:

8. …And eating more. No, I haven’t gained the “Freshman 15” since Katherine left for college, but I’ve put on a few.  The good news: When you squeeze into too tight pants, it smooths out all the wrinkles. No ironing!

9. Tackling home projects. Katherine told me that college freshmen worry that they will come home to find their rooms have been repurposed. The bedrooms are untouched, but we did replace an old vanity and toilet in our hall bathroom. Today I’m going to pick up tile for a backsplash and we have plans to replace the 20 year old wallpaper in our kitchen.

10. Traveling. I’ve got good kids. And yet, leaving them alone for a weekend wasn’t easy.  Remember all those funny stories of the stuff we did in high school? It’s funny until you have teenagers and then it’s a little nerve wracking.  After a weekend away with friends, it was good to come home and not feel like I was playing detective looking for evidence of foul play.

11. I have clothes! And shoes. And jewelry. And it is all in my closet right where it is supposed to be because no one has borrowed anything.

12. I’m wearing sunscreen.  Being old enough to have two kids in college means being old enough to see the aging effects of my own teenage years. The Hawaiian Tropic SPF 4 was replaced with Neutrogena SPF 50 years ago, but the damage was done. Next week, I’ll have a small surgery to remove a skin cancer from my nose.  Luckily it is October and I’m sure I can work the stitches into some sort of Halloween costume.

13. I’m still parenting.  I’m glad they still call and text for advice. I’m proud of their growing independence but it’s still nice to feel needed. And when Jack wants to know how to make tuna noodle casserole (cook the noodles first!) he could google it but I’m glad he chose to call his momma.

14. I’m still worrying. There’s an expression—If momma ain’t happy, nobody’s happy. But I think that’s backwards. If Jack or Katherine is having a tough time or a bad day, my heart hurts for them. And I worry.  I’m hoping it will be a funny family story someday.  “Remember the time you were sick and you called mom and told her you were dying and then she couldn’t get in touch with you so she called campus security to check on you?”

15. I still wake up every morning determined to be the best me I can be. And I still screw up. I still take time to thank God for this new stage of my life and I’m still living with a grin, some grit, and a bit of grace.

Cheers to being an empty nester!

Make Good Choices

Dear Jack,

The days leading up to your departure for college were full of “lasts.” The last family dinner night, the last snuggle with Tatum, last round of golf with dad, last big hug for mom—all these activities took on a special significance when they became the last time you would do them before you left for R-MC. 

Now come the “firsts,” such as stepping into your dorm room for the first time, first meal on campus, first friends, first day of football camp. There are firsts for us too—the first time pulling back into the driveway without you was a hard one for sure. Then there was the first text and first picture from you reassuring us that you are going to be OK.

Before we left, I told you, as I often do, “Make good choices. I love you.” This isn’t the first or last time you will hear that. But on the car ride home, I thought about what those words mean to me, and what I hope they mean to you.  So, here is the expanded version--

1.      Choose to be kind to everyone.

2.      Choose to be a leader. Use your gifts, talents and strengths to make a positive impact.

3.      Choose to set high standards for yourself. Never miss a class. Never miss a practice.

4.      Choose to study. Be curious about the world.

5.      Choose to connect with God.

6.      Choose to own up to and take responsibility for your mistakes.

7.      Choose your friends wisely. You are who you hang around. Choose friends who also make good choices.

8.      Choose to stay healthy and active. Make time to exercise. Say no to drugs.

9.      Choose to reframe problems as challenges and lessons.

10. Choose to be thankful.

The choices you make during your first 30 days of college will set the tone for the next four years. Being thoughtful about starting with good habits makes it easier to maintain good habits. 

We miss you already, but we are excited about the new opportunities that college will offer you. We look forward to seeing you grow and learn and continue to mature into a young adult. We are so proud of you!

Love,

Mom

First day in dorm room

First day of filming

First text to make Mom very happy

To Be or Not to Be...Vegetarian?

Katherine wants to become a sort of vegetarian.  "I don't want to be a vegetarian," she tells me.  "I just don't want to eat meat."  This doesn't come as a total surprise to me...she's my child who swore off fast food years ago after reading Chew On This and hasn't set foot in a McDonalds since. 

I don't have any issues with Katherine's choice, except that I want to go about it the right way...

Being educated:  The biggest concern I hear about eating vegetarian is the lament of the loss of protein.  Is this a misconception or is it a real issue?  In lieu of becoming a registered nutritionist by Friday, I wonder if there is a good book that Katherine and I could read together so that we are both more knowledgeable on the pros or cons of avoiding meat.

Being healthy: Bagels, pasta, and chips are all easy meatless options.  I need to make sure we have some good options for breakfast, lunch and snacks. 

Being understanding:  I want to make sure I am clear on Katherine's choices and reasons.  Are eggs OK?  Fish?  Does she want to avoid meat for an ethical reason or is it a matter of taste?  Vegetarian, pescetarian, vegan? 

Being together: We eat together as a family as often as we can and this tradition remains important to me.  Lately, I've been cooking with more meat and less starchy foods.  How do I satisfy the varied desires of all the family members without spending the entire day in the kitchen?  (Well, I already fall short on that since Jack prefers a diet of pizza and Chipolte.) 

Being involved...but not too involved: I want to be supportive and helpful but I want to give Katherine space to figure this out on her own.  Maybe she would like to cook dinner once a week?  Maybe we could prep together on Sunday afternoons?   I could do nothing and let her figure it out?

 Or should I wait and see?  My fickle teenager might just be back to bacon by next week

September vs. Allison

My principal says September is kind of like giving birth for teachers: time passes and we forget how hard labor really is.  That's probably why I said goodbye to August with such high hopes and good intentions of kicking the school year off right.  Instead the first month of school kicked me and left me feeling pulverized.

September is unpacking boxes, stapling up bulletin boards and alphabetizing class lists.  September is giving a million pre-assessments...which means GRADING a million pre-assessments and then sitting in a million meetings to ANALYZE the pre-assessments.  September is meeting and greeting parents at Open House and preparing a Back to School night presentations.  September is setting up classrooms, setting up routines, setting up conferences.  September is coming to school early every single day and staying late every single evening.

And when I leave, I go to my other full-time job.

I walk in the door completely exhausted...I've been on the go for 12 straight hours...and there's laundry to be done and bills to pay and a dog that doesn't get nearly enough attention (as he keeps demonstrating by ripping  holes in my couch).  There's football practice, football games, homework help and piano practice.  Everyone in my family is trying to get used to new routines and the homework load and I am not there nearly enough for their liking.  In one week of September, I was out every single night at three different Back To School nights, a Driver's Ed meeting and a Girl Scout meeting.  It is too much-- TOO MUCH!-- but we all just keep going because we have to.  We just keep putting one foot in front of the other and crossing off those September days, one by one. 

As my students left one day, I looked around the room at the aftermath of our busy day.  I wanted to leave, but their ME Collages were stacked haphazardly under my chair by the rug, I had a difficult email to write to a parent, and sub plans to prepare since I would be out for training the next day.

Ding! 

The text message says, "Mom, I need a ride home from football."  I leave my room, with my To Do list looming.  I pick up Jack, stop off at home and change into running clothes.  (Well, all my running shorts were dirty so I was wearing an old hot pink tennis skirt.  Haven't played tennis in years but it is a good wardrobe staple when you have no time to do laundry.)  Katherine picks this point in the evening to declare that she is FAILING French so I spend a little time conjugating the verb avoir with her (J'ai, tu as, il a, nous avons, vous avez, ils ont....yeah, Monsieur Rummings, I still got it!) before heading back to school at 7:00 p.m. to write my sub plans.

The first thing I notice when I return to the classroom is that the ME Collages are gone.  You know, the ones I left in a messy pile on the floor.  Mr. Kim, our janitor, thought they were trash and helpfully put them in the dumpster.  Did I mention that it was raining? 

Right there, in my classroom at 7:00 p.m., in my hot pink tennis skirt, I started to cry.  I cried because the kids worked so hard on those projects.  I cried because I was trying to do TOO MUCH and I was failing miserably.  I cried because it was raining.  I cried because I couldn't even find the time to go for a run.

Then, I heard footsteps.  Coming up the ramp was the custodian with a parent looking for some forgotten homework.  And...what are the odds...it happened to be the same parent that just received that difficult email an hour ago.  So, right there, on Wednesday night, wearing a tennis skirt and holding a snotty tissue, I had a parent- teacher conference.  Oh the joy.

This story has a happy ending.  The next morning when I returned to school, Mr. Kim had found the collages and returned them--unharmed--to my classroom.  The other happy ending is that September doesn't last forever and it is almost October. 

October is going to rock.  I am SO going to have my shit together.  Yes, I know we have report cards and parent teacher conferences coming up.  But I don't remember those being hard....

Just so you don't think September was totally awful, it did have some happy moments like these:

First Day of School Smiles

Visiting Luray Caverns

10th Annual Neighborhood Camping Trip
 

Fun weekend visiting with Mom and Jim



Jack's first homecoming dance.

Recalculating...

I named our GPS Greta.  Sometimes I imagine that she has feelings.  Greta's like the 5th family member on car trips and is proud of her role as navigator on our excursions.  I detect an edge to her voice when we deviate from her suggested route. 

"When possible, make a legal U Turn," she snaps at me.  I ignore her.  She seems to sigh. 

"Recalculating," she mutters in resignation.

It takes some adjusting, then we continue our journey together. 

I felt a little like Greta this spring when I learned that Jack had been invited to join a travel baseball team.  Practice 4 days a week and games 2 days a week?  Travelling every other weekend for three months?  Will we ever eat dinner as a family again?  I add up the costs of team fees, equipment and travel expenses.  So much for our patio furniture budget. As the news sunk in about what this new commitment means for our family, I want to shout, "Whenever possible, make a legal U Turn!"

When Jack contacted the coach, we were impressed with his initiative.  When he practiced with the team, we admired his determination.  When he was invited to join, I panicked. 

Slowly though, I began to process the news.  I remember what a positive experience it is for Jack to be a part of a team.  I remember that his afternoons and weekends are spent outside in the fresh air instead of down in our basement watching six straight episodes of Duck Dynasty.  I remember that his grades actually improve when he is playing a sport--somehow he manages his free time better when he has less of it.  I remember that the days are long but the years are short. 

Recalculating...

Last weekend we went to a tournament in Rehoboth.  One of my favorite moments was watching Jack sprint across left field and dive across the grass in an attempt to catch a deeply hit ball.  Later the coach said, "One game highlight was Jack's absolute running, horizontal layout and for a couple of seconds, I thought he came up with the ball.  When the ball was hit, I said 'ut oh' and though no possible way.  The effort shown on that one play sent a reverberation through the team."


I never thought I'd be driving to Rehoboth Beach on Memorial Day weekend for a baseball tournament.  Sometimes life takes us a different route than we plan.

It takes some adjusting, then we continue our journey together. 

 

 

Teenager in the HOUSE!

Katherine spent the last few months singing Let It Go and channeling her inner Anna.  So, when deciding on a theme for her 13th birthday, Frozen was the obvious choice.  For weeks she's been excitedly planning...

 

Decorations--A Blue and White Frosty color scheme complete with snowflakes and lights.

 

Party favors with a chilly theme--Snowcaps, Wintergreen Tic Tacs and Wintermint gum

 

 

Games and Activities--creating snuggly scarves and playing Pin the Nose on Olaf

And a party wouldn't be complete without a cake that Katherine made from scratch--complete with snowy trees and Olaf himself. 

 

Happy Thirteenth Birthday Katherine! 

You are intelligent, creative and beautiful.  Thank you for bringing much joy and happiness to my life.

 

Tools for the Toolbox

"What do you use to get your pushpin into a bulletin board?  Probably your thumb.  What do you use to put a nail into a 2x4?"

I am talking about tools with Jack.  Really, I am trying to talk about homework with Jack.  Actually, I would rather NOT talk about homework at all.  It is a rather exhausting topic.  Jack and I agree on this point.  We don't agree on much else, when it comes to homework.

Jack doesn't understand his Algebra homework so he's decided not to do it.  His history homework is hard and boring so he's decided not to do it.  I am trying to convince him otherwise.

That's where the tool analogy comes in.  Sometimes, you can't get the job done without the right tools.  I am trying to tell him that he has a lot of tools available to him:

The tool of time management:  starting homework right after school instead of waiting until bedtime
The tool of teachers: available for extra assistance if he stays after school
The tool of parents: willing to help

If those aren't enough we can get a bigger toolbox--work on reading strategies to make history easier or consider medication to help with focus, for instance.

To me, this all seems perfectly logical.  Jack doesn't seem to hear any of it.  Wait a minute, are those earbuds peeking out from his sweatshirt?  He's not even listening to me.  I am the teacher in a Charlie Brown cartoon, "Whaw, whaaw, whawww..."

Now I am the one banging my head against a 2x4.  I am tired of having the same conversation every week.  I look into my toolbox: 

Tool 1: Try rational argument about the importance of homework.  Offer to help.  Give a pep talk.
Tool 2: Threaten grounding until Christmas.
Tool 3: Retreat into bedroom in my pajamas with a glass of wine.

Nothing seems to be the right fit to get the job done.  I either need more wine or new tools. 

Happy Hearts

"To relax, my mom likes to take a four hour nap every day."

Moms--can you imagine? When's the last time you had four uninterrupted hours to yourself to do anything, much less nap?

In kindergarten, Mother's Day is a big deal.  All week long the children composed and colored to create a book about their mothers--a labor of love.   Each page begins with a writing prompt such as, "My mom is special because..." The responses are sincere, funny, sweet and sometimes all of the above.  As another teacher commented, "They make my heart happy." 

We all know mothers labor selflessly every day and Mother's Day should be a chance to relax.  So we asked the kids how their moms would like to chill out for the day.  The responses were quite enlightening.

"To relax, my mom likes to change into comfy clothes and just lie on the couch."

"To relax, my mom likes to exercise and then do some yoga and then take a shower."

"To relax, my mom likes to play legos with me."

"To relax, my mom likes to go to the nail spa by herself.  She tells my dad it is his turn to play with me."

"To relax, my mom likes to take a nap after she cleans the kitchen."

"To relax, my mom likes to play games on the computer and have a drink."

"To relax, my mom likes to sit on the potty and read the newspaper."

I thought about how I'd answer the question about my own mother.  The past few years she's been an amazing caretaker to my grandmother who has dementia.  She now cares for the mother who once cared for her.  Mom is busy doing everything from laundry to bill paying, trouble shooting and advocating.  It has been difficult, especially on the days that Grandma no longer recognizes her only child.  Every time mom leaves the nursing home, even on the worst of days, Grandma tells her, "Watch crossing the street.  That's what my mother used to say to me."   Even though her mind is deteriorating, she still remembers her own mother's concern and love.

I believe that for my grandmother, "Watch crossing the street" equals "I love you."

Yes, even when you grow up, the job and joys of motherhood never end.  Every mom should have an opportunity to relax occasionally.  For my own mom?  I can imagine she'd want to enjoy a beautiful sunny day on the golf course with good friends.  Of course, shopping can be relaxing if you score the perfect bargain at T. J. Maxx.  Playing bridge and enjoying a cocktail on the deck? Definitely relaxing.  Same with a pedicure or a lively dinner conversation with her husband.  My mom also likes to be organized.  While it might sound counterintuitive, I think cleaning out a closet actually helps her feel relaxed and energized.  I know I feel relaxed and energized when she cleans out my closets!  She also likes to curl up on the couch with a good Harlan Coben mystery.

Mom, I love you.  So this Mother's Day, relax in whatever way makes your heart happy.   And watch crossing the street.

Run-A-Muck

Climbing up rock walls, running through tires, crawling through tunnels and wading in the river.  This is how I spent my afternoon yesterday.  No, I did not quit my teaching job to sign up for Basic Training. Jack and I signed up for a 5K obstacle run called Run-A-Muck. 

I'm beginning to look for more ways to connect with Jack.  He prefers to talk to Paul about sports, his friends about girls, and noone about school.    Lately I find that my conversations with him resemble, well, nagging.  "Have you practiced your guitar?"  "You can watch TV after you take the time to tackle that math."  "Could you please help me set the table for dinner?" "Don't forget to brush your teeth."    Recently I chaperoned his middle school field trip and I had the nerve (in front of his friends, the agony!) to ask him to walk down the aisle of the bus instead of climbing over all the seats to get to his spot.   In Jack's mind, "Mom" is synonomous with "Fun Crusher."  I know this because he told me so.

When I heard about Run-A-Muck, I decided this was the perfect opportunity for a little mother-son nag-free bonding time.  We asked our friends Allyson and Lane to join us to make a team of 4.  Then we headed to Target where we let the boys pick out the most outrageous get-ups they could devise with a  $20.00 budget.  They found lots of bright colors on clearance and Team Neon was born.

The day of the race was COLD.  Luckily spirits were high and the DJ was loud.  We danced around to warm up and laughed at the other team's costume ideas.  My favorite was a group of guys dressed entirely in white.  They were Team Clorox. 

When the race bagan, the boys immediately took off together at a much faster pace.  Allyson and I talked as we ran behind them.  Yes, we had planned to stay together.  But to do this, we'd have to spend the entire event reminding them to slow down, be careful, pace yourselves...it sorta sounded like nagging.  So we let them run ahead into the unknown without us.   And when we got to the final mud pit, they were there, already covered in mud, cheering us on to the finish line.

Even though Jack and I didn't exactly run together we had a lot of laughs.  He's already talking about next year.  Have I gone from "Fun Crusher" to "Coolest Mom Ever?"  I doubt it.  But it's a start.



The Play's The Thing

"A play!  There's going to be a play!" 

No, not Shakespeare's Hamlet but an original production written by our music teacher: The Medieval Musical!

Katherine is so excited about the 5th grade school play.  Here's a girl who signs up for drama camps in the summer.  A girl who writes, directs and stars in her own basement productions on a regular basis.  She immediately takes the script into her room to practice for her audition and to analyze the pros and cons of each part.

"I want to be Queen," she announces after much consideration.  "Or Princess Caroline or Princess Catherine.  If I'm Princess Catherine I'll ask Mrs. White if she can change the C to a K.  My next choices are Peasant 1, Peasant 2 or the Jester."  The production is a musical so Katherine wanders around the house singing, "I want to be queen," in preparation for the singing part of the audition.

After school auditions, Katherine is so excited.  We bump into her teacher in the hall.  "Oh Allison, I wish you could have seen Katherine's audition," she says to me.  "She had such stage presence!  She was such a natural!"

The next day I am rushing to meet Katherine by the flagpole.  I'm behind schedule and I'm worried that she'll be upset when I'm not in my usual spot.  Sure enough,  I find her crying hysterically.  But it turns out she didn't even notice I was late.

"We got our parts for the play today," she sobs.  "I'm not the queen.   I'm not Princess Caroline.  I'm not Princess Catherine.  I'm not even Peasant 1 or Peasant 2!"

"Are you the jester, then?" I ask.

"No!" she wails.  "I'm, I'm....I'm a kitchen maid." She can barely spit out the words.

At first my protective instict kicks in.  I see my beautiful daughter hurting.  I want to help her.  I want to fix it.  I want to complain to the teacher about the unfairness of it all.  Why have students write a list of their top 6 choices if it's not possible to give everyone what they want?  Why praise an amazing and creative audition to get hopes up?

Instead I take some deep breaths and I wait.  I wait until she's calmed down.  I wait until I've had time to think.  Then I give her a Great Big Mom Pep Talk.  I tell her it was a tough competition and she did her best.  I tell her she can choose to be gracious to her friends who landed those coveted roles.  I tell her that every role is important.  That sometimes small roles done well can have more impact than the big roles.  In short, I tell her to be the best kitchen maid ever.

Last night we saw The Medieval Musical.  Katherine's main scene is towards the end.  While the royalty sit primly at the banquet table talking of expensive fabric and dancing Greensleeves with the knights, the kitchen maids wait in the wings.  After the banquet, the kitchen maids emerge with brooms as partners while they dance around the banquet hall cleaning dishes and fending off giant rats competing for table scraps.  Katherine looks so animated and happy despite her soot covered face. 

I may be a little biased, but I think she is one of the best kitchen maids ever.



The group of best kitchen maids ever!



Selective Independitis

Do your children ever show symptoms of Selective Independitis? 

OK, I made that up.  I'm just noticing that sometimes my children are completely dependent on me for survival, showing no signs of capable behavior.  Other times they surprise me with how much they can do without any supervision at all.

Take this week for example.  Usually I make my kids breakfast in the mornings.  One morning I was running late for a meeting and I asked Katherine if she could please make her own bowl of cereal.  I kid you not-- this is how she responded:

"I don't know how."

When I pressed her for more information (With which part do you need further instruction--the cereal or the milk?) she came up with a list of rational arguments that makes me think she might take after her Granddaddy and become a lawyer. 

"Well, first of all, you keep the bowls up too high out of my reach.  I'd have to drag a chair over and that's not very safe.  Then the milk is up high too.  When the gallon jug is really full, it is hard to pour and I might spill it over the counter.  It would be so much faster and easier if you did it for me."

Sigh.  Sometimes I am not a good parent.  According to current articles, completing difficult tasks builds self esteem in children.  These same articles admonish parents: Don't do it for them--just check and help.  Great predictors of a happy future are perseverance and resiliency.  A good parent would have taken the time to properly teach Katherine how to fix her own breakfast.  I was a parent in a hurry.  And she was right.  It was easier to do it myself.

"Here are your Cheerios, honey.  And here's a side of freshly sliced bananas."

Today this same child wanders in to find my head buried in our filing cabinet where I am searching for tax information. 

"Mom, can we bake a cake from scratch?" she asks.

"Hmmm, sure sometime," I respond, distracted.

"How about right now?"

"Now I'm in the middle of something."

"Well can I do it myself?"

"OK, thanks." I nod at her, as I successfully find the car tax paperwork.  It was under CAR instead of TAX. Who would have thought??

After more digging around in the filing cabinet, I finally find all the important paperwork I need for our taxes.  That's when I become aware of sounds coming from the kitchen.

"Katherine, what are you doing?"

"Making a cake."

"A cake??"

"Well, you said I could."

And so she was.  She found a recipe, gathered the ingredients and read the directions.  She had the oven preheated, the dry ingredients mixed and was in the middle of melting butter and cocoa in a saucepan when I came in.  She got the cake in the oven all by herself and made the icing from scratch too.  Now, here's the funny thing.  Paul, Jack and I all gave up dessert for Lent while Katherine chose a different goal.  Not only did Katherine make the whole cake independently, I guess she also gets to eat it independently.  After she cleans up the gigantic mess she made, of course.  Look at my stove!

"Mom, thanks for letting me make my own cake," she says, licking her lips.  "It's delicious." 

Yes, I let my daughter take over the kitchen for the afternoon to make a cake that I can't even eat.  Sometimes I am a very good parent. 

Recipe for Katherine's Chocolate Lent Cake
Cake:
Cooking Spray
2 t. all-purpose flour
2 cups flour
2 cups sugar
1 t. baking soda
1 t. ground cinnamon
1/4 t. salt
3/4 cup water
1/2 cup butter
1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa
1/2 cup half and half
1 t. vanilla
2 eggs

Icing:
6 T butter
1/3 cup milk
1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa
3 cups powdered sugar
2 t. vanilla
optional 1/4 cup toasted pecans

1. Preheat oven to 375
2. Coat 9 x 13 baking pan with cooking spray; dust with 2 t. flour.
3. Combine flour through salt.  Stir with whisk.
4. Combine water, butter and cocoa in small saucepan, stirring frequently until mixture boils.
5. Remove from heat, pour into flour mixture.  Beat with mixer until well blended. 
6. Add half and half, vanilla and eggs, beat well.
7. Pour batter into pan and bake for 22 minutes until wooden pick comes out clean.
8. To make icing, bring butter, milk and cocoa to a boil.  Remove from heat and stir in sugar and vanilla. 
9. Spread icing over hot cake.  Cool Completely.

Our Trash is Katherine's Treasure

Paul is telling Katherine about our weekend plans. "Uncle Stu is coming over this weekend with his pickup truck.  We're going to the dump.  Would you like to ride with us?"

"What are we going to get?" asks Katherine.

"No, honey, we're not getting anything.  We're getting rid of some old scraps and junk," Paul explains.

"But Dad," Katherine protests.  "What if we see something that's very useful?"



loading up Uncle Stu's truck



Katherine is very crafty and extremely creative.  Trouble is, with this combination of talents, everything is potentially useful.  Where I see a lone sock on the dryer, Katherine sees the body of a puppet.  Recently she used one to make a snowman (named Hanes, of course.)

Last month she came home from school holding a giant wall clock.  "Look what I found in the trash--someone threw away a perfectly good broken clock!" she exclaimed excitedly.  Sure enough, she set it up downstairs where she plays school with her dolls.  Soon, telling time is integrated into the lessons. 

While I dream of cleaning out all my closets, Katherine is bringing home the latest treasure from her "dumpster diving" forays.  Sometimes, I am busted when she finds something in our own trash.

Katherine: Hey, what's this Dumdum wrapper doing in the trash?  Mom!  I told you I was saving those.

Me: Oops, sorry.  I forgot.  (Forgot to take the trash out before you came home!)

Katherine's reputation for resourceful craft projects has spread with family and friends.  So I get phone calls such as this: "I've been cleaning out my basement and I have some fabric scraps.  I thought Katherine would like them."  Or this: "I found a box of art supplies that we aren't using.  I thought of Katherine..."

They are right, of course.  With a few scissor snips and a glue gun, the fabric scraps were transformed into camping kits for her dolls--complete with matching sleeping bags.  The latest box of craft supplies has been an invaluable source of inspiration as she constructs handmade Christmas gifts for friends and family. 

To encourage her hobby, I set up a table and some storage baskets in our laundry room so Katherine can have her own craft area.  Little by little, the table is covered with paper scraps, stamp pads, Popsicle sticks and string.  Soon the table's surface is completely hidden.  Refusing to surrender to the confines of an imposed boundary, her artistic workspace spreads to the coffee table in the playroom, the carpet of her bedroom and even the kitchen. 

The aftermath of Katherine's whirlwind of projects sometimes overwhelms her.  A creative genius does not have time to clean as she goes, you understand.  This is when I step in to restore order.  Today I spent the morning replacing glue caps, folding tissue paper and sweeping up piles of glitter.   Katherine is happy to have all her supplies organized--now they are easy to find for the next inspiration.  Now that the basement is put back together, I'm off to the grocery store.  Katherine came home yesterday with several Styrofoam trays and empty milk cartons. 

"Mom, do we have graham crackers and icing?  I bet we can decorate these to look like gingerbread houses."

Katherine and her snowman Hanes

Dry Socks

It is raining at 6:57 a.m.  I know because I look out the window before giving Jack an update on the time.  "6:57!"  I call.  Jack's bus comes every day at 7:02 a.m.  He is supposed to leave at 6:57 to allow time to walk to the bus stop.  Many days he sprints out the door at 7:01.  If he misses the bus, he has to walk the mile to school.  He hasn't missed the bus yet.

Until today.  "Will you give me a ride?" he asks.
I stand firm. "Sorry, Jack.  We have an agreement that you will walk to school if you miss the bus."
"But it's raining," he argues.
"Would you like an umbrella?" I suggest.

Jack retreats back into the house, presumably to retrieve an umbrella for our trek.  He returns empty handed. "Dad said he'd give me a ride!"

Here's what I want to say to Paul at this moment:  "Seriously?  What happened to consistency?  What happened to following through on consequences?  What happened to us being on the same page in our parenting decisions?  And why, if we're going to play good cop-bad cop roles, do I have to be the bad cop?"  I don't say any of those things.  I storm back into the house, grab an umbrella and thrust it into Jack's hands. 

The first part of our walk is quiet, except for the gentle spatters of rain.  Jack is angry and I am stubborn and we make quite a pair, the two of us. Bundled up in rain jackets, our hoods pulled tightly around our faces we walk silently side by side.  Jack keeps the umbrella closed and it swings from his wrist as he moves. Tatum is with us, his soft, thick fur glistening with wetness.  The rain begins to fall harder and Jack breaks the silence.  "Why are you so mean?"

This is a good question and I mull it over. I don't try to be mean.  What, exactly, have I done that is so mean?  Is it mean to follow through on a consequence because the weather is not cooperating? Good parenting should always be consistent and reasonable.  But what happens when you can't be both?  I chose consistent.  In hindsight, reasonable might have been the better option.

As we begin to climb the hill by school, we are in the middle of a torrential downpour.  The sidewalk is flooding as the rain rushes back down the way we came.  There is nowhere to walk except straight through.  My pants are dragging with waterlogged weight and my socks and shoes are completely soaked.

"Jack, I'm sorry.  I don't try to be mean.  I love you and sometimes I think I know what's best for you.  In this case, I think I made a mistake.  We look like two drowned rats."

Now I am no longer feeling stubborn and Jack is no longer feeling angry.  We both just feel cold and really wet.  After dropping Jack off, I return home and pack dry clothes for him.  Then I drive up to school to deliver the bag.

If I could have a "do-over" for the morning, I'm not sure what I would do.  Give him a ride?  Make him wear rainboots and use his umbrella?  Wake him up 10 minutes earlier?  Parenting decisions aren't often black and white.  Sometimes adults make mistakes too.  Maybe I wouldn't change our morning. Maybe the real lesson I taught Jack is this:

When you make a mistake, admit your error, say you're sorry and put on some dry socks.

Postscripts
  In today's paper, I read an article about Wednesday's storm.  "It was truly exceptional as a rain-producer...setting both daily and monthly rainfall records."

  Remember, I didn't say anything to Paul before I left?  When I returned home sopping, to his credit, he didn't say anything to me either. 

I'm Not Complaining But...

"God loves a cheerful giver.  God loves a CHEERFUL giver."  I'm repeating this over and over to myself as I pack. 
Sleeping bag? Check. 
Mess kit?  Check. 
Cheerful outlook?  Rats.  Two out of three ain't bad, right?

It's not that I don't want to spend the weekend chaperoning a Girl Scout camping trip.  Hmmm, well, actually I really don't want to spend the weekend chaperoning a Girl Scout camping trip.  I'd rather stay home.  It's not that I don't enjoy being a Girl Scout Leader--this is true.  I have the pleasure and privilege of working with a wonderful group of 10 year olds.  It's just that tomorrow will be the third Saturday out of the last four that I have spent the day with these lovely girls.  We hiked together on the Billy Goat Trail.  We raked leaves together for our service project clean up.  And now, we camp.  How much togetherness do we need?

Oops, I do not sound cheerful, do I?

I'm dreaming of cozying up by the fire Saturday morning reading the paper and drinking coffee from my new coffee maker.  Then maybe I'll go to yoga with my friend Debbie and fix myself a big salad for lunch.  In the afternoon I'll turn up some festive Christmas music and fa la la as I deck my halls with painted nutcrackers and evergreen wreaths.  Paul and I will put our feet up and enjoy a drink together before I whip up a delicious dinner.  Then we'll end the day snuggled on the couch with a family movie.

Well, I certainly feel more cheerful now but, in reality, staying home will not be more relaxing than my chaperoning duties.  Jack needs to depart for his basketball game at 8:30 am, and Tatum will need a long walk.  The giant history project is due Monday and I'm pretty it hasn't been started.  Then there's the grocery trip that needs to be made in preparation for the 21 people showing up at our house for the church youth group progressive dinner.  We're the salad stop.  If the house could be sorta straight and the toilet clean before company arrives, that would be great.

We're not the only parents who seem to sacrifice every weekend to our children's schedules.  Our kids are in that maniacal age bracket--old enough to be active but too young to drive--and after we sign them up for all these activities we are at their mercy.  Recently I invited a friend over and this was her reply (names changed to protect the innocent): 

"We unfortunately have a really crazy weekend.  There are swim meets and basketball games and  Husband and I have a work party to go to Sat. night which will be very late. Of course now we find out Child 1 has a late BB game too. Sunday I have a swim meet with Child 2 and BB game with Child 3. I'd love to come and thanks for the invite, but I think we will be beat.  I hope they don't have tons of homework too."

When I stop to consider, the camping trip will be just fine.  It's only 24 hours of my life and I'll be sleeping for 8 of them.  (Yes, I know my sleeping may be wishful thinking.)  We're looking at decent weather--not always guaranteed the first week of December.  There will be some creative skits, I'll get to go on a hike, help build a campfire and even get a s'more or two in the deal.  Katherine is thrilled that I'm coming.

When I start to think about having a Saturday all to myself, I realize that in 5 years, my Saturdays may be spent overseeing the college application process.  In just a few short years, I'll have all the Saturdays I want to myself.  This is when I remember that no one is forcing me to be involved in my children's lives.  It's a choice that I make gladly realizing that they do grow up too fast. 

Water bottle? Check.

Bandanna? Check.

Cheerful outlook?  Check.

Saturday Night Fever

Sleep deprived, I'm feeling a bit punchy.  With apologies to Elisabeth Kubler Ross and her Five Stages of Grief, may I present my very own conclusions of research:

Five Stages of Staying Home with A Sick Child

Stage 1: Denial
Tuesday.  Jack mentions that he doesn't feel good.  He has a headache and his body hurts.  "Drink lots of water," I tell him.  Jack's not one for complaining so I take his temperature.  The thermometer reveals a low grade fever of 100.1 degrees.   "You just need a good night's sleep. I'm sure you'll be fine in the morning." 

Stage 2: Enjoyment
Wednesday.  There's some pleasure in the unexpected sick day.  After a trip to the doctor rules out strep, Jack and I have a little fun.  The ibuprofen kicks in and there's a false sense of improvement as his fever temperature drops.  We play a few games of Farkle and watch Spongebob Squarepants in the middle of the afternoon.  We make study cards for the upcoming 7th grade science test and I learn quite a bit about the 8 biomes of Earth.  (Well, I had fun doing that...I make no promises for Jack.)

Stage 3: Worry
Thursday. The virus, or whatever it is, crawls into the upper respiratory area of Jack's torso, giving him relentless coughing fits.  He complains that he is cold and wraps himself in several quilts.  His fever spikes at 103.5.  I call the doctor back, but she still seems convinced that the virus needs to run his course.  His room is equipped with the humidifier and I slather vapor rub over his chest.  I try opening his windows for fresh air at points, and am wiping down surfaces with disinfectant.   His fitful naps are short and his calls for Mommy come often.  Sometimes he coughs so much that he gags, bringing up what little food he's eaten.  I add laundry to my list of things to do. 

Stage 4: Frustration
Friday.  There is little change in Jack's health, except I think the cough is getting worse.  Last week, when everyone was the picture of rosy health, I agreed to substitute for a teacher at school today.   I can't believe Jack still hasn't kicked this thing!  Last night I tried, in vain, for an hour to get someone to fill in for me.  A sub for the sub.  Twenty (no I'm not exaggerating) phone calls later, I give up.  Now I am paying a babysitter $15 per hour to stay home with my sick son so I can go to school and substitute for $14 per hour.  There is something wrong with this picture.

Stage 5: Exhaustion
Saturday.  Did I mention that our dog is upset by coughing?  He's also pretty neurotic about wind.  So to have a coughing child on a windy night just about put Tatum over the edge.  Paul and I took turns getting up to tend to Jack and the dog.  At one point Jack's pajamas are soaked through with sweat.  In the morning the thermometer confirms my hopeful suspicion-- the fever broke.  He is tired, still weak and still coughing.  But I know the worst is over.  Let the convalescing begin.  We're too tired to do anything else.

Take Me out to the Ball Game

Katherine's first day of 5th grade

While officially still summer, this week marks the unofficial beginning of fall in our home.  School begins and football season starts.  Sometimes Jack's homework is like a football game. It can take about 4 hours to watch but there's only 60 minutes of actual playing time.

Tonight Jack does not have four hours because he is on his way to a Nationals baseball game.   Paul and I have a different opinion of this game.  One of us (I won't tell you who) feels strongly about the significance of this particular baseball game.  Steven Strasburg is scheduled to return to the Majors tonight to pitch.  What an opportunity to watch history!  The other one of us wants to emphasize the importance of starting a new school year off  right by organizing school supplies, eating a healthy dinner and getting a good night's sleep.

In the interest of preserving our happy marriage, we devise a compromise.  Jack agrees to complete all his homework before departure.  I'll pack a healthy dinner for the road.  Paul will leave the park early, promising to have Jack home and in bed by 10pm.

Jack's ready for7th grade

But first, the homework.  He has to write a paragraph.  First, I try letting him work independently.  Then I try offering advice.  As the clock ticks, I can feel the tension rise from my shoulders to my neck muscles and into my clenched jaw.  "Jack, you don't have a lot of time to get this finished."


"Mom, you are rushing me," he accuses.  Well, yes, I am.  Because we are in a hurry here.  He gets it done--not his best effort--and leaves for the game.   All that scrambling and aggravation.  Is it worth it?

Around 9pm the phone rings.  "Mama?  We're on the way home.  Thank you for letting me go to the baseball game tonight.  I promise I'll get all my homework done tomorrow.  I love you."

Yes, it was worth it.

Surviving the Tweener Years

Jack celebrating his 12th birthday this summer.

Hmmm.  Maybe instead of "The Year of Allison" I should call this period of my life "Surviving the Tweener Years."  I'm heading into uncharted territory with Jack.  At 12, he is growing up.  He's lost his last baby tooth and is no longer ordering off the children's menus. He's old enough that he doesn't want a babysitter, but too young to make good decisions on a consistent basis.  (Just last week he asked for matches so he and his buddies could build a fire in the front yard.  They were genuinely shocked to find out that, in my opinion, this was not a brilliant plan.)  Although he shows signs of maturity, he's still far from adulthood. 

Today was the first day of middle school orientation.  Jack prepared for his first impression of 7th grade with, it seems to me, an entire can of Axe Deodorant Body Spray.  While Jack seems ready, I'm the one who is nervous.  What do I do when he comes out for breakfast surrounded by a cloud of cologne?  Gasp for air?  Tell him to only use half the can next time?

What about the band aid covering the scab on the bridge of his nose?  Will other 7th graders think that is cool or dorky?  And is it really better to have a messy locker like the other boys or should I shell out the $25 for the middle school fundraiser and purchase a locker organizer?

If Jack isn't apprehensive about any of this, I certainly don't want to impose my awkward middle school memories on him.  I just want to be prepared.  New school, new schedules, new changes to a growing body--there's bound to be some angst on my horizon.  One minute he's my sweet child who still wants to snuggle and read next to me.  The next minute he's pushing the limits of independence by refusing to practice his guitar.  

I know there's no parent handbook for surviving the teenage years.  I pray I can be patient more often than not.  I hope I can maintain a sense of perspective.  I want to keep my sense of humor.  And when all else fails, I know there's wine in the pantry!

Who screams for ice cream?

Three dollars. Two children.  One kid's scoop each.  No whining.

This is our usual Baskin Robbins routine but tonight is different.  We're in the car with Sissa and she's treating us all to ice cream!  Oh, and did I mention it's 103 degrees out?  We're hot, hungry and ready!

"Can we get two scoops?" Jack asks.
"You can get whatever you want," Sissa replies.

Who knew that phrase could be trouble?  Once at Baskin Robbins, they notice the menu board for the first time.  So many choices--sundaes, smoothies, scoop sizes and flavors.  Decisions are made and we get in line.  Then, at the last minute, Jack changes his mind and orders some giant Reeses sundae concoction complete with caramel syrup, whipped cream, the works.

Katherine is next...but suddenly her two scoop order seems small and plain compared to her brother's.  As the line grows behind her, she looks back up at the menu board in desperation.

"Just get what you planned," I prod her.  "Don't worry about your brother."
"Get the Mega-Oreo Sundae," Jack chimes in. "That looks good."
"That seems like an awful lot of ice cream," I chastise.  "I think you should go with your original plan.  Just hurry up and decide because people are waiting."

So, Katherine goes ahead with her order but when it arrives she begins to cry.  Now, of course, I can see how I could have handled this situation differently.  I could have been more patient--pulled her out of the line to give her more time to mull over her choices leisurely.  I could have said, "I agree with Jack.  The Mega-Oreo Sundae looks fabulous--yum!"

But who knows?  After a long, hot day, Katherine is tired.  And, just like her mother, she is not a very spontaneous person.  Later I talked with my mother about Katherine's meltdown.  "What should I do? Is there was a way to teach her how to be more relaxed?  I mean, I feel like it's my job as her mother to help her work on this."

"No," Sissa says.  "I think it is your job as a mother to show her you love and embrace everything about her.  She should feel safe and comfortable coming to you for support--especially when she's tired or cranky."

Wow.  How'd my mom get to be so smart?  I guess she gets a lot of practice with me.

Happy Birthday-You're Grounded!

I'm in a bit of a pickle.  What started as a simple disagreement analyzing the meaning of the phrase "Please turn off the TV now," escalated into a full blown conflict with Jack.  At one point, he left the house and climbed the maple tree in our front yard and I calmly talked him down using my innate intuitive senses and experience with children. 

Just kidding.  I stood down by the trunk with my neck craned back, looking at the tips of his shoes peeking through the leaves and yelled irrational things like, "If you don't come down right now you are grounded for four days!" 

Has this ever happened to you?  In the heat of the moment, you open your mouth and offer a completely unrealistic consequence?  Now what?

The pattern in our house is to backpedal.  Usually I go to Jack and tell him I'm sorry and that after a glass of wine and a good night's sleep I have decided that the punishment does not fit the crime.  Then, we all hug and say sorry and there ends up being no consequence at all. 

Now I know that grounding Jack for four days is not effective parenting.  But neither is giving him a consequence and then not following through on the consequence.  So that is my pickle.

I think part of the reason this occurs is that Jack is an amazing kid in so many ways.  His good behavior, kind heart and happy disposition is the norm, so we end up surprised and unprepared for moments of occasional misbehavior.  Today is his 12th birthday and we are so proud of him. 

I know that with the teenage years approaching, this will not be the last Mother-Son conflict.  I think we'll need to sit down when we're both calm to talk about realistic expectations and consequences together.  And then we'll need to be consistent and fair in following through.  Someday soon, we'll have this talk.

But today, I'm going to eat my pickle.  Today I will tell Jack that the punishment was too harsh, and ask him to think of a different, more appropriate consequence.  'Cause what mom wants her son to remember the year he was grounded on his birthday?