Relax and unwind

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Hung the “gone fishing” sign on the door this weekend and escaped to a city I would move to in a New York minute if I could convince each and every one of my friends to come along. I just can’t imagine living without my peeps, no matter how strongly Portland courts me.

An annual trip we’ve taken four years, now – except that I think it might be five – we stayed in our favorite digs, visited our favorite spots, and ventured into some new places as well.

In years past I’ve clicked photos and blogged and written of our adventures. But this weekend was quieter, more introverted. The pictures you see here are almost all we took, and I didn’t feel any draw to report our activities (perhaps because much of what we did involved pulled curtains and Do Not Disturb signs, if you know what I mean).

Bryan’s been working long hours these last months – and even as I write he is away at a function until late tonight – so the time together was timely. The challenge for me, of course, is always the re-entry. It’s never graceful. I’m never glad to be back. I’m always more than a little bitter it had to end.

Though I did say to Bryan at one point on Sunday, when I was starting to think about the kids just a little bit, that I couldn’t imagine not having kids. The time I would have! The money to burn! The intact cells of my brain! What would I do with myself, day in and day out? What mystery would there be to uncover? What challenge to overcome? For what stolen moment would I devise an elaborate plan to capture?

So this is what I tried to remember today as Thomas crapped in the bathtub yet again, and as Ruthie woke from her nap in the foulest of moods. I tried to remember that these children are a blessing to me, not a thorn in my side as I sometimes see them. They are a gift given to me. And though weekend escapes without them for marital bliss are important, my heart should always be glad to be where it is.

To all the moms…

Heard this great essay on NPR last night about the bedroom secrets of the suburban Dad rivaling those of their single counterparts. It’s a funny read, but even funnier if you can listen to it. Here’s an excerpt:

You think it’s hard to get the attention of a woman in a bar? Puh-leeze.

These guys have to convince a woman who has fallen asleep in her clothes reading Thomas the Tank Engine stories that what she really wants right now is some midnight romance under the giant pile of laundry covering the master bed.

So, so funny, and so, so true. To read (or listen) the rest, click here.

Book Review: The Wonder of Girls

wonder of girls.JPGAfter Annie Freeman’s Fabulous Traveling Funeral bombed and I quit reading in the middle of it, I switched over to a non-fiction book I had on my shelf: The Wonder of Girls, by Michael Gurien. This was a fascinating and informative book about the brain function and hormonal make-up of girls.

Did you know that when children are 10-12 years old their brains go through another growth spurt that is comparable to the first year of life? Yeah, that’s why all pre-teens drive you nuts – their brains are overstimulated! And also? It is during this time their frontal lobe is developing, which is their moral center.

This means if you have a child who is under an incredible amount of ongoing stress like abuse, the trauma of these events can “rewire” their brains. This is the time a sexually abused boy, for instance, will most likely be “rewired” as a future pedophile, as an example.

Also, it’s not just fable that girls have a better memory than boys:

The hippocampus is one of many areas of the brain that develops differently in girls and boys. It lies on the ridge along the lower section of each lateral ventricle of the brain. One of its biggest jobs is memory storage. This hippocampus is larger in a girl than in a boy, and just as important, the number and speed of neuron transmissions in it is higher in females….A seven- or eight-year-old girl will tend to be better than the average boy at complex memory functions. For instance, if you tell an eight-year-old boy to do three things – clean up his room, take out the garbage, and wipe the table- and tell the same to an eight-year-old girl, you are more likely to see the girl complete the three tasks with less reminding.

Another aspect I appreciated about the book is its emphasis on the importance of raising children in a three family system. The first family being the mom and/or dad. The second family being the extended family. This includes not only extended family, but also mentors, counselors, and close family friends who are like aunties and uncles. This is especially important when living apart from extended family. The third family consists of institutions like church, day care, and other programs, provided the kids are bonding with people or aspects of the institution, not just attending.

In the process of reading this book I learned so much about myself, too. I don’t remember having discussions with my mother about my hormones or my cycle. I remember her showing me the mechanics of the tampon, but it wasn’t until I was in my twenties that I finally realized I was having a nervous breakdown, like every 28 days or so, and that maybe I should look into this pattern. I hope to be able to guide Ruthie through these hormonal changes.

The Wonder of Girls includes a section on what a girl needs from a mother, what she needs from a father, and how to help girls in crisis. This discusses eating disorders, suicide, cutting, and other areas of concern.

I highly recommend this book to anyone raising girls. Gurien also wrote a book for boys, called The Wonder of Boys, which I can only assume is also full of rich information.

Many thanks to Mommy Needs a Cocktail for sending me this book ages ago!

(For ratings and other reviews on books I’ve read, visit my Shelfari page and my books category.)

My Little Valentine. Big Valentine Accomplishments.

ValentinesI’m the mom who forgets she signed up to bring cookies on party day, and runs into Safeway five minutes before preschool starts for the privilege of screaming at her children to hurry up already.

I was also the mom who’s daughter brought Diego Valentines to preschool last year. Period. Because I thought when the flier said to bring Valentines, it meant to bring Valentines – NOT hand painted party bags with custom made stickers filled with homemade candy and cookies and tied with silky pink yarn.

Sheesh. Entering the school years is a whole new ballgame of peer pressure, only I have a calloused heart of cynicism on my side these days.

This year I was so proud of myself! In the spirit of maintaining, I added ‘cupcake mix’ to my grocery list on Tuesday, and remembered to buy frosting and sprinkles (Ruthie’s contribution to the party). Last night the kids and I made the cupcakes, and I had Ruthie sign all her Valentines with the letter R – the only letter in her name she can write at the moment.

Tonight we frosted the cupcakes and filled her goodie bags with jelly beans, a sucker, and her princess Valentines.

This Getting Things Done, this Being On Time, this Remembering to Follow Through thing is exhausting for sure. I mean, I’ve just spent two full evenings engaged with my kids when we normally flop in front of a movie. And Ruthie is so excited about her goodie bags she hugged me over and over before bed, and then came downstairs once, looked at the pile of bags on the table, and leaped into my arms one last time.

Valentine’s “Day” has been a three day affair, if you count the shopping – a big change from waking up in a panic at 3am the night before. AND I’ve had a great time with my kids.

I almost had an over-achieving moment when I realized I forgot to buy cellophane gift bags for the candy, and I was going to run to Target after 9pm and fill all the bags myself. But Bryan was like, Seriously? SERIOUSLY? So I improvised by lining regular ziplock bags with pink tissue paper, and stuffing those with the candy.

I think it says, “Fine, I’ll participate in your silly commercial holidays” without going over the top Martha Stewart. What do you think?

Frankly, I’m just happy I won’t be screaming at my children in Safeway tomorrow morning.

Does this clutter make my butt look fat?

clutter book cover.JPGI saw a commercial for Oprah the other day about the connection between the clutter in your home and the clutter on your ass. Well, they didn’t quite put it that way, but you get the idea. The author’s name is Peter Walsh, and his book really is titled, Does This Clutter Make My Butt Look Fat?

I didn’t watch the show, but the idea really does make sense. I don’t see it as an IF/THEN statement, as in IF you have clutter THEN you will be fat. I see it more as the clutter mindset of laziness, taking shortcuts, and not following through. Here is a quote from the show’s article on Oprah’s website:

“Your head, your heart, your hips and your house are all interconnected, and I really believe that,” he says.

I’ve been kicking around these two verses in connection with an essay I’m working on about my own selfishness hindering my ability to Get Things Done and take care of my family:

For where you have envy and selfish ambition, there you find disorder and every evil practice (James 3:16).

Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life (Proverbs 4:23).

It reinforces my theme for the year of maintenance, though I want to see more than mere behavioral change. I want to see heart change. I want to desire new things. I want the changes in my life to be a symptom of transformation, not merely a result of strong willpower.

Changes are happening, but they are happening slowly. I think I’m okay with this. I feel as if I’m tackling the mess in my mind along with the mess in my house. I’m making changes and establishing new routines, but I’m doing it because I desire to do it, not because I’m supposed to do it.

So far I have not desired to change my eating habits. This would be a nice addition to the New Jen, but frankly I’m still comfort eating. I do, however, desire to exercise, so Jen is maintaining status quo on the scale (though all my pants mysteriously require belts, now, to keep them on).

I’m okay with this for the time being because I am seeing progress in other areas. I am experience a renewal of my mind, and I’m finding joy in the changes that are happening. I have faith my eating habits will change in time.

Thanks to Red Letter Girl for the reminder of the Oprah show!

I swear, this is exactly how the conversation went.

Ruthie: Look, Mom, I HAVE GUM?

Me: Uh, where did you get that?

Ruthie (shrugs shoulders): I don’t know.

Me: No really, where did you get that.

Ruthie: I don’t know!

Me: Ruthie, you need to tell me the truth.

Ruthie: Off the floor.

Me: OFF THE FLOOR? YOU PICKED USED GUM OFF THE FLOOR AND PUT IT IN YOUR MOUTH??

Ruthie: No.

(Look of relief on my face).

Ruthie (with dramatic hand motions to illustrate): I picked the hair off it first.

Weekend Project.

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We don’t have an entryway.

I have dozens of pictures clipped from magazines of large, high-ceiling-ed entryways with sweeping staircases and homey benches. I have pictures of back door mud rooms with cute storage lockers or cubbies sectioned off for each child. I have pictures of old wardrobes converted to coat closets, of closet system installations, of change jars and old-fashioned telephones atop hall tables.

I had it all figured out, and then I bought a house with no front entryway, no back door mud room, and no coat closet.

We started with a coat tree. I hate coat trees. Thankfully ours never tipped over, but when I cleared all the coats off I found a purse I’d been looking for since last summer and a mysterious red jacket from Land’s End in size 18 months. If you’re the first to hang your coat up when arriving, it takes you ten minutes to uncover it again when you leave.

Not to mention the kids can’t reach it to hang up their coats.

I put together this little ensemble from Ikea for less than fifty bucks. Two basic coat hook racks, and a bench-shoe-rack thing from the bathroom section. We are not a no-shoes house, but with all our bedrooms upstairs it’s not practical to keep the kids’ shoes in their rooms. Having them right by the door saves time and hassle when we are rushing out the door.

At the suggestion of a friend, who is one of my two personal decorators, we flipped the couch to the other side and put the chairs against the wall (you can see the arm of the black club chair). This opened up more space in that corner for a cute little kid sized coat rack that Thomas and Ruthie ADORE. Just like he announced the new kitchen to every visitor, Thomas WILL point out his new coat rack every time you come over.

I may frame some of Ruthie’s art and hang it above their coats.

The milestone for me in all of this – besides the fact we actually hauled out a drill and did it – is that it looks nothing like what I always wanted, yet I’m so happy with it. I needed to adjust my expectations to fit my circumstances. I needed to let go of the picture in my head.

Which I did.

And now I’m well on the road to maintaining order in my home.

A Wild Ride: muddling through expectations.

I contributed another essay to A Wild Ride, a resource blog for parents parenting in challenging circumstances. Here is an excerpt:

Last Spring when Bryan and I were in the car with our two kids – a preschooler and a toddler – a verbal scuffle started in the back seat.

Ruthie (the preschooler): MOM! We’re playing hide and seek, but Thomas won’t stop counting!

We were in the car, and hiding consisted of covering her face with her hands. But still.

Me: Did you ask him to stop?

Ruthie then turns to Thomas and begins screaming at him to stop. I cringed as the echoes of her screams reverberated in my head.

Me: You need to ask him to stop without screaming at him. That’s not okay.

Ruthie, in a horrifically matter-of-fact tone: But mom, I have to scream at him because he’s not stopping.

At which point I smirk quietly to myself as Bryan throws his head back in that deep, bellowing, from-the-gut laugh that I love (but only when it’s not at my expense), and he says, “You are SO BUSTED!”

To read the full story, click here.

Dinner Tonight: Crustless Quiche and Polish Sausage

crustless quicheI told you this was going to turn into a food blog.

I’ve had requests for more recipes, so here’s another “easy peasy” meal I can throw together with my eyes closed and one hand wrapped around a cocktail: polish sausage and a crustless quiche.

The polish sausage (or smoked sausage – whatever you’re into) is lower in fat if you buy the turkey version, and we all still like it. You basically just need to heat it up in the microwave, broiler, or saute’d in a pan. Sometimes I cut it up and stir fry it with veggies, and sometimes I cut it up into tiny pieces and throw it right into the quiche.

Really, you won’t be tested on this, so do whatever.

I found the quiche recipe on an Atkins-related bulletin board online (don’t EVER try that diet – go South Beach for low carb). Every time I make it I throw something different into it. Kind of a clean-out-your-aging-veggies-before-they-die sort of meal. But here’s the basic thing to get you started:

  • 1 1/2 -ish cups diced veggies (enough to cover the bottom of your pan – onion, peppers, mushrooms, broccoli, whatever)
  • 1 1/2 cups shredded cheddar
  • 8 eggs (or one carton of Kirkland brand Egg Starts from Costco)
  • 1/2 cup cottage cheese
  • salt and pepper

crustless quiche 2Spray pie plate with non stick spray, spread veggies on the bottom, top with cheese. Beat the eggs and cottage cheese together, sprinkle with salt and pepper, and pour into the pie plate. Bake at 325 for 40 minutes, let it set before slicing.

See? Easy.

Not to throw you off, but when I make it I usually use a dozen eggs. And I bake it in a 9×11 pan. And I don’t really measure anything. And I use whatever I have on hand, in my free-spirited cooking kind of way.

On being husband and wife…

steel creek wine at the Fin & BoneWe were able to get a babysitter this weekend at the last minute, and walked over to a fancy restaurant to sit at their bar for a drink.

We live in a great walkable neighborhood with lots going on, but it is home to three sports bars and an irish pub. The discovery of a fancy restaurant with a classy bar and lounge that hosted live jazz music on the weekends was a fabulous find. We ordered a bottle of wine and tried to ignore the big screen tv’s by gazing into each other’s eyes.

Really, this was the only flaw: the big screen tv’s on either side of the bar. Bryan was like, Are you a jazz bar or a sports bar? Make up your mind!

One more about the bloggy giveaway…

Yesterday’s post was a bit hasty, and I forgot something very important: Thanks to Jeffrey Overstreet for signing a book for this giveaway! I encourage you all to check out his blog, Looking Closer. It’s full of great movie reviews, links, and other culture-related information.

Also? He’s sending Cyndere’s Midnight, the sequel to Auralia’s Colors, off to print, and it should be published in September!

My giveaway winner is a fantasy novice, interested in discovering new authors. Hopefully I had a hand in turning a new fan onto Jeffrey’s writing!

Bloggy Giveaway Winner Announced!

I will have to pass on writing an eloquent post for announcing the winner of the Bloggy Giveaway – I had a sick child this morning and am now rushing around Getting Things Done before the next person in this family comes down with the pukes.

So, in this very anti-climactic way, I announce Knittinchick as the winner of the random drawing. Congratulations! I’ll send out the book as soon as my kids are not throwing up on me.

Thanks everyone for stopping by This Pile. Hope to see you again soon, even if I’m not giving away free stuff!

Hopefully this will last longer than the sticker chart did.

snack boxesMy kids are starting to drive me crazy with the “I’m hungry” all the time. I had two different friends suggest designating a snack drawer in my refrigerator to fill with snacks my kids can help themselves to, that I refill daily with healthy snacks. I thought this was a great idea.

It took me awhile to get around to implementing, but today I launched Project Independent Snacker.

I showed the kids their baskets, taught Thomas that his name started with the letter T, and explained the basket would be filled everyday with snacks they could eat whenever they want without asking me first. BUT – and I made sure to repeat myself several times – when the basket is empty, there will be no more snacks.

They were like yeah, yeah, sure, gimme that juice box.

I’m sure it will take a few days for them to get over gorging themselves on free food, and I will also have to gauge how much snacking they really need to do during the day. I may have to add or take away the quantity of food.

In this basket is a cheese … thing – I’m not sure what you call it since it’s not a stick. But Ruthie doesn’t like white cheese so I had to improvise – an apple, a juice box, a container of trail mix, and a container of carrots with hummus. Other snacks I have for variety include apple sauce cups, little boxes of raisins, granola bars, crackers, and celery with peanut butter. I’m sure I’ll think of more, but that’s actually probably enough variety.

It felt weird buying all those individually packaged snacks, though. I don’t normally do that, and I’m sure the Earth will haunt me in my dreams tonight and whisper wickedly, “YOUR TRASH IS SUFFOCATING ME!” But for now that’s how I needed to start this thing off – I needed it to be easy so I would finally do it. Once I get into a groove with it I’ll go back to buying bulk and put stuff in containers.

I’m hoping this routine will stick, unlike that stupid sticker chart I made. That lasted, like, five days because Ruthie is so not motivated by stickers.

She’s motivated by watching me melt down into a temper tantrum.