What I Like About You

...An Ode to Fall
 

            I’m linking up with Mama Kat’s writing workshop this week. She asks the timeless question, “What do you like best about fall?” So here are ten of my favorite things about my favorite season.

            1.) Apples Apple picking, apple crisp, apple pie, caramel apples, apple cake, apple cider, apple crisp. Did I mention apple crisp? It’s my favorite dessert on earth. Serve it with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and you have heaven in a bowl.

            2.) New Beginnings Fall is the ultimate time of renewal. Forget about making resolutions in January. January is cold and dark. It's a time for bulky sweaters and hot chocolate. From the time we let go of our parents’ hand and walk into school for the first time, our new beginnings happen in September. Even though it’s been years since I sat in a classroom, I still feel like fall is the time to make new things happen.

            3.) Pretty Colors I would be remiss as a New Englander if I didn’t mention the fall foliage. I can’t imagine living any place where the leaves don’t make their dramatic costume change before taking their final exit every fall. What’s fall without pictures of kids jumping into a giant pile of leaves?

            4.) Halloween The truth is, I have a love-hate relationship with this holiday. As a person with a deep theatrical bent, I feel the desire to go above and beyond with costuming and decorating. But as a working mom, I just don’t have the time or the desire to turn into a giant stress ball over a holiday that neither celebrates my religion nor my country. And, for which I do not get the day off. On the other hand, the kids look so cute and I love those little “fun-sized” Snickers bars...

            5.) Pumpkin Whoopie Pies. You can check out the recipe here where they're called Pilgrim Pies. Even though I can buy Pumpkin year-round, I only make these treasures in the fall. Maybe they're more special because you can't get them any time of the year, like those pumpkin spice lattes everyone is so crazy about. Not me though. I like pumpkin in may baked goods—muffins, breads, pies. Keep it out of my coffee and out of my beer. And that goes double for blueberry.

            6.) Apple Crisp What do you mean I already said that? Well, it bears repeating.

            7.) Soccer No, I’m not a raging sports fan and my kids aren’t hard-core athletes. I may whine about dragging my butt out of bed early on the weekends, but I adore Saturday morning soccer in my hometown.

            8.) Sleeping The air is cool enough to stop using the air conditioner and warm enough you don’t need to turn on the heat. The only hard part is getting out of the cozy warm nest and facing the cool air. I’m writing this right now at 6:00 am and it’s still pitch black outside and the perfect temperature for sleeping.

            9.) Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur Now if you’re a regular reader of this blog, you may be aware of the fact that I am Catholic. So why are these Jewish holy days my favorite things about fall? The first is purely superficial. Schools are closed in this city for both holidays. So my kids and I have the day off with no obligations at all. Last week we had a long visit to my parents and picked apples in New Hampshire. On a more meaningful level, I have long thought of September as the real start of the new year (see number two). As far as Yom Kippur goes, I love the idea of practicing a day of atonement. I think society as a whole would be much better off if we all spent more time reflecting on our own shortcomings and less time judging those of others. Besides, Jesus was Jewish!

            10.) Apple Crisp Well, I was going to say watching football. But we all now how that’s going so far this year.

Nothing says autumn like New Hampshire. For your amusement I present "Granite State of Mind".
 

A Lesson from my Son

             My boys climb into the car after a busy day at camp. They answer my questions of, “How was your day?” and “Did you do something fun?” with dull, short answers. They’re tired—all talked out from nine hours with their friends. A few seconds later a song or something a commentator says on the radio inspires Owen to speak. Something other than my boring question gets him started and he doesn’t stop. He tells me he hopes I’m voting for Obama and why. He tells me why Green Day is his favorite band. He tells me in great detail why he lost the last dodge ball game he played. He tells me why he no longer wants Fluff on his peanut butter sandwich. He talks until we arrive home and something else grabs his attention.

            When Owen was about sixteen months old, I was beginning to worry about his very limited vocabulary. Cookie and Daddy were the only recognizable words to come out of his mouth. If he was feeling particularly cheeky, he’d call me Vickie. But he never said “Mama”. I had done everything the books told me to do. I read to him, sang to him, babbled back at him when he was an infant, but he just didn’t talk much. At a party one day I mentioned my concerns to a friend who was a pediatric speech pathologist. He watched us interact and told me I had nothing to worry about. “He doesn’t talk because he doesn’t need to,” he told me. “You anticipate all of Owen’s needs. Stop doing it and he’ll start talking.”

            He was right. A few days later Owen leaned on the refrigerator door and whined. Normally I would ask him if he’d like some cheese. Instead, I said, “Tell me what you want.” He whined again. “Sorry, you need to tell Mama what you want.” He looked at me like I was crazy and said with utter exasperation, “Cheese!”

            He hasn’t stopped talking since that day.

            When the time came to learn to read, Owen struggled. He was bright. Anyone could see that. He picked up complicated concepts easily. But learning to read took effort he wasn’t willing to make. He had the tools to read, but he wasn’t ready to use them. Then he discovered the graphic novel section at our local library. I told him it was too awkward to read a graphic novel out loud and he’d have to read it himself. By the next morning he had finished “Missile Mouse”. It was the turning point for Owen. It sounds like a cliche, but overnight he became a voracious reader.

            Owen taught me that kids learn at their own pace. You can’t force them. Whether it’s reading or talking or even toilet training (especially toilet training?) a person has to be motivated to learn. All the incentives and lectures in the world won’t get a person to learn something they aren’t ready to learn. Now I wonder when he’ll be ready to learn to put his dirty clothes in the hamper.

I'm linking up with Mama Kat. This week we were asked to share a lesson we learned from one of our children.

Just Between Me and Me

 

            I’m linking up this week with Mama Kat’s Writing Workshop. The assignment was to write a letter to my teenaged self. This was fun to write, but I doubt very much that girl would listen to a thing I have to say!

            Hey Vic, got a second? I know you’re in a hurry to get to rehearsal or a Key Club meeting. I want to talk to you about your life now and what’s coming in the next couple of years. There are loads of surprises to come—some good and some bad. But there are a couple of tips I’m going to give you that might make things a little easier along the way.

            First of all, in the second semester of your freshman year they’re going to put a baked potato bar in the school cafeteria. Don’t get hooked on it. You’ll think you’re immune to the “freshman fifteen” because you didn’t gain any weight first semester. You didn’t gain any weight because you were in a musical and dancing a couple of hours a day—and because there was no baked potato bar in the cafeteria. Between baked potatoes and beer, you’re going to “cow out” as Jamie says. Stick with the salad bar. It’s much easier to stay thin than to lose weight.

            While we’re on the subject of weight, you look fantastic. I know you think you’re chubby and flat chested. You’re looking in the warped mirror of a self-conscious seventeen-year-old girl. Trust me when I say, there will be times in your life you’d give anything for the body you have now. Also, stop hating your nose. Just stop it. The love of your life is going to think it’s adorable.

            Make time to learn a duet to sing with Papa in Italian. He loves to sing as much as you do. Your voice is a gift from his branch of the family. It’s would be a shame if you never sing together.

            I’m not going to tell you to work harder in school. You should, but I know you won’t listen to me. If nothing else, PLEASE work harder in French. You can take advanced foreign languages in college to get out of a couple of math classes. Trust me, it’s worth taking the time to study. Believe me, you’ll have a need for French (or Spanish, or Portuguese) more than you’ll have a need Algebra in your life.

            Your oldest child will start talking. He or she (no, I won’t say which) will also learn to read. I promise. That child is as stubborn as you and his dad combined. He or she does everything in his or her own time. Pressure will only slow the kid down. When he or she starts talking and reading, it’s going to blow you away.

            There will come a time of deep sadness in you life. You’ll know what I mean when it happens. You’ll try to get back on your feet and make everyone think you’re okay before you really are. Don’t do it. Let yourself wallow for a little while—just a little while. You can’t go back and wallow later if everyone thinks you’re already fine.

            Don’t worry though. The blessing in your life will far out number the tough times. Listen more than you talk, take long walks, eat your vegetables, don’t sweat the small stuff, and wear sunscreen. 

Teenaged me would never believe I listen to country music. She'd be horrified. 

Plants and Me: A Tragic Tale

 

            A few days after I came home from the hospital with my first-born son, a relative gave me a potted plant as a gift. It was a lovely, leafy, vibrant hibiscus. It also had a very short life.

            Unlike the nearly ten pounds of joy I had just brought home, that darn plant never made a sound when it was hungry. My new son made everyone within a two-mile radius know he needed to nurse. Even my cats make noise when they need something. A new mother isn’t going to feed something that doesn’t make noise. If you’re looking for a suggestion for a gift for a new mom, might I suggest lasagna?

            Even before my kids were born, plants in my care were destined for the compost bin. My mother’s colleagues gave me a gorgeous peace lily when my husband and I were married. They assured us the plant was easy to care for. All we had to do was, “water it when it looks sad.” I must’ve waited until it was clinically depressed. It didn’t make it until our first anniversary.

            I have had only one success with potted plants. My grandmother had a knack for raising beautiful African violets. When she died in 2001, my cousin bought each of us grandchildren an African violet plant to remember Nana by. I brought the plant to my office, convinced it would suffer the same fate of all my other plants. Every morning I would dump the contents of the previous day’s water glass onto the plant. Much to my surprise, it thrived. I’ve recently been told you aren’t supposed to water the foliage of an African violet. You should water it from a saucer placed underneath the pot so the roots don’t rot. Yet coworkers often admired my beautiful African violet and praised my skill with this difficult plant. I figure my grandmother was watching over the plant while she watched over me. I need a little otherworldly intervention when it comes to raising plants.

            This week I’m linking up with Mama Kat’s writing workshop. I chose the prompt, “Do you have a green thumb? Tell us what kind of gardener you are!”

You Know You're a Mom When...

1.) Luxury is a shower where no one walks in.

2.) The last time you had a headache you had to take six chewable Tylenol because you couldn’t find the grown up medicine.

3.) Your idea of a nice restaurant means there is no drive thru.

4.) You’ve broken half a dozen rules about parenting you set for yourself before you actually had children. Most of them involve food or television.

5.) The term “dry clean only” either makes you laugh or cry.

6.) In your very large purse you can’t find a lipstick or a pen. But you do have Band-Aids, coloring books, a yo-yo, wet wipes, juice boxes, and at least a half a pound of loose Goldfish and Teddy Grahams

7.) The last movie you saw in a theatre featured aliens, princesses, mutants, superheroes, or anthropomorphized rodents.

8.) You’ve tried to write a check with an orange crayon because it was the only writing utensil you could find.

9.) You feel like something’s wrong on the rare occasion you look in the rearview mirror and no one is in the back seat.

10.) Finally, you know you’re a mom when you’ve made some truly unflattering choices for the love of your kids…

Mama Kat's Writing Workshop: The Rose Goes to...

            I’m linking up with Mama Kat’s writing workshop today. Today’s topic was influenced by the reality TV show, The Bachelor. I’ve never actually watched the show myself. I don’t get reality shows—reality has no place in entertainment for me. I’d much rather watch something about aliens or time travel or ancient civilizations. But I digress… “On The Bachelor a rose is given to the women he could really see himself spending the rest of his life with. What six things in your life would you like to give a rose to and why?”

Things I’d Like to Give a Rose to

My GPS I have a terrible sense of direction. I hate to tell you how much gas I have wasted driving around unfamiliar towns getting more and more lost. In fact, I get lost in familiar places too. So, last Christmas my husband gave me a Tom Tom. It’s the best electronic gadget EVER. I am perpetually lost and this baby gets me back on track every time.

L'Oreal's EverPure Shampoo I was never very loyal to one brand of shampoo or another. Truth be told, I’m kind of inept when it comes to hair. I keep it just long enough to pull it into a ponytail and that’s the extent of my hair styling skilz. However, I inherited a charming trait of prematurely gray hair silver highlights. So I’ve been coloring this mop for as long as I can remember. As a result, my hair gets really dry. I discovered L’Oreal’s Ever Pure line. It is the only shampoo I’ve ever used that didn’t make my hair feel dry as soon as I washed it. I won’t use anything else. By the way, I was not paid to say nice things about this product. But if anyone from L'Oreal is reading this, I'd be happy to endorse your product!

My Crockpot I know, I know. Sexy, right? But seriously, this thing has saved my sanity this year—not to mention lots of dough. One of my favorites is a whole chicken that tastes just like the rotisserie roasted from the supermarket. Check it our here. Easy, delicious and cheap. Even my picky eater likes it. We also do lots of bean recipes—super economical and much cheaper than take-out. What more could a mom ask for?

My Pashminas My mother has given me three of these fine wool scarves over the past couple of years. They are elegant and warm at the same time. I can’t tell you how often people have looked past my ratty black ski jacket and said, “Oh! I love your scarf!” It’s fun to say, “Thanks. My mom picked it up for me in Florence.” Not as much fun as saying, “I picked it up in Florence.” But still fun. It’s much more acceptable to wrap one around yourself inside someone’s chilly house than an afghan.

Smart Wool Socks (are you noticing a trend?) This is New England and even though we’ve had a blessedly mild winter it’s still cold. We’re very frugal in my house so the heat stays low and we have lots of blankets and snuggling. But sometimes you have to get off the couch or out of bed. A bad day starts for me when none of my wool socks are clean.

My IPhone Yes. I’ve drunk the Kool Aide and gotten a smart phone. The phone I had before was an old clunky flip phone. When I was helping out at Vacation Bible School last summer, I let one of the teenaged volunteers borrow it to call home for a ride. She said, “Hey! My grandma has this phone.” Ouch. Now I can text, tweet, e-mail and bribe my children with Angry Birds. I love technology!

            So what are your favorite things these days?

Another Dinner Conversation at Our House

            I place the last platter on the table and sit down. My family starts digging into mashed potatoes, peas and crock pot roast chicken. It’s one of their favorite meals so there isn’t much talking at first. While I’m pouring gravy onto my chicken I ask the kids if they did anything interesting at school today.

            “We had a lock-out drill,” my nine-year-old son Owen tells me.

            “Oh?” I ask. I steady my hand as I pour the gravy, trying to pretend it doesn’t bother me that my babies need to participate in lock-down drills. It would be nice if the ugly, violent side of the world never touched them. But in the end, we’re all touched by it one way or another. I’m glad the school tries to prepare them.

            “What do you do during a lock-out drill?” my husband asks. 

            “You get down low and wait for an announcement,” Owen says matter-of-factly. “And if you hear the fire alarm you don’t go outside.”

            “Really?”

            “Yes. Because sometimes the bad person pulls the fire alarm to get people to come out of the building. If we’re supposed to leave there will be an announcement. Can I have the gravy Mom?”

            He’s lucky there is any left I was so distracted while I was pouring it.

“What’s Hitler,” Owen asked as I passed him the gravy.

            “Not what, who.” I correct him. “Adolph Hitler was a person. He was the leader of Germany during World War II,” I said. “He ordered the deaths of anyone who wasn’t what he considered perfect—Jewish people, disabled people…”

            “Christians?”

            “No. For the most part they weren’t rounded up unless they were…”

            “Gay?”

            “Yes. Gay or disabled, or helping someone who was being rounded up.”

            “What’s gay?” James asks.

            “You know how I love daddy and he’s a man? It’s when someone loves someone who’s the same gender—like when a woman loves a woman or a man loves a man.”

            “Oh yeah! Like Piper’s moms.”

            “Exactly.”

            “But two dads couldn’t have kids. You need a mom for that.”

            “There I ways,” I tell them. “Two men could adopt a child.”

            “What’s adopt?” James asks.

            “It’s when someone brings a child into their family when the child’s parents couldn’t raise a baby themselves.”

            “Mom, look at my volcano!” James says as he pours gravy over a mountain of mashed potatoes. “Oh no! The people have to run away.” He pushes the peas aside as if they’re people running from the flow of lava. Our conversation eases into something simpler—imaginary natural disasters.

            “May I be excused please?” Owen asks. His plate is empty. I never saw him eat. I’ve only managed a few forkfuls myself.

            “Sure Sweetie,” I tell him.

            “What’s for dessert?” he asks.

            “Bourbon… I mean… ice cream.”

            Today I’m linking up with Mama Kat’s Writing workshop. Today’s prompt was to capture what it’s like to spend a day or a moment talking with your kids. My kids provide me with great fodder inspiration for this kind of writing assignment.

A Year in Blogging

Happy New Year! I hope you had a lovely holiday. We had a wonderful Christmas this year. As usual the kids had a great time playing with all their new games and Legos and by last night they were playing with cardboard boxes. Next year I’m going to save my money and see if my local appliance store can hook me up with a refrigerator crate. This week I’m linking up with Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop with a year in blog posts. Below is a favorite post from each month of 2011. There's a little fiction, a little memoir, and some parenting stuff. If this blog were a sitcom, today's post would be one of those year-end clip shows. Enjoy!

January 7^th Red Writing Hood I participated in my very first Red Writing Hood prompt with The Red Dress Club (now known as Write on Edge). Getting involved with this group was probably the single best thing I ever did for my writing. Linking up has introduced me to a wonderful community of writers. We all start our blogs for a variety of reasons—to capture memories of a particular time in our lives, to share ideas, or to practice writing. I never thought blogging would create friendships with people I’ve never met. What a lovely accident.

February 9^th Young Love I talked about my introduction to the thorny topic of elementary school romance. Back in my day, little boys thought little girls were icky. Apparently, kids today are a little more aware of the opposite sex.

March 4^th Yes Mam and March 5^th Wham Bam Thank You Mam This blog wouldn’t be much of a chronicle about the journey into the forties without a talk about my first mammogram and the brief rollercoaster that followed.

April 29^th Fighting Words There is a character in my work in progress named Laverne who started out as a fairly minor character. As I was writing in November she made it clear that she was going to have a major impact on the story. Every time she enters a scene something wonderful happens with my writing. This was the first time I introduced Laverne to the world.

May 13^th My Midnight Glutton  As I looked through my blog posts, I realize that my best writing comes from moments that are close to my heart. It is particularly true of this short post about a midnight nursing session with my youngest.

June 19^th WWDD When I count my blessings (which takes a while since they are so numerous) one of my greatest blessings is my parents. I don’t just love my parents—I like them and respect them as well. This post was a tribute to my Dad on Father’s Day.

July 23^rd Cheap Therapy I must confess that the more I blog, the less I exercise. This post reminds me why I need to find time for both.

September 1^st The Motorcycle That’s right. I skipped August. I’m putting in two for September instead. August was a rough month for me. September was no picnic either, but it produced much better posts. I couldn’t leave this story from my childhood off the list.

September 11^th Loss and Hope The date and the title say it all. My thoughts ten years later.

October 14^th Permanent Another page from Michaela’s story, a Write on Edge prompt about tattoos written by an inkless woman.

November 1^st NaNoWriMo Moi? I’m including this post, not because it is a great piece of writing, but because it was the beginning of a really great experience for me. In one month I managed to crank a 50,000 word novel. Even if nothing ever comes of those words, it’s a huge accomplishment.

December 9^th Auld Lang Syne I introduced a new character named Karen. She really struck a chord with some folks so I hope you’ll be hearing more from her soon.
    

Mama Kat's Writing Workshop: WWVD?

            Today I’m linking up with Mama Kat’s Writer's Workshop. The prompt was a true piece of fantasy writing: “Make a list of ten things you would do if you didn’t have to work.” My first thought was—only ten? I could go on for days. So I decided to put one restriction on the list for myself. I’ve written a post of ten things I would do if I didn’t have to work, but our household income remained the same.

1.) I’d play hooky with my kids now and then. These days, time to myself is at a premium. All day, everyday I am with kids or customers. The only time I am alone is when I’m in the car waiting for the kids. I have become very stingy with my time alone. But if I wasn’t working, I would have more time and be more willing to ditch school for a day to go to the beach or take a walk in the woods with my little guys.

2.) I’m also play hooky with my husband. The only thing I have less of than time by myself, is time alone with Dan.

3.) I’d dust off the piano, get it tuned and learn to play it.

4.) I would take more time to cook. I’d try new recipes that take more than four ingredients. I’d take a break from the old standbys I make five nights a week.

5.) I would write and write and write.

6.) I’d comment on more blogs and respond to the comments on my own blog.

7.) I would train for a mini triathlon.

8.) I would spend school vacations as a tourist in my own backyard. I’d take my kids to Plimouth Plantation, The Museum of Science, and The House of Seven Gables. We’d visit Lexington Green and walk the Freedom Trail. In the summer we’d test the water at every beach on Cape Cod and Cape Ann.

9.) I’d be involved in more than one play a year and I’d go to see all of the plays my friends are in.

10.) I’d finish all the household projects I’ve begun like the porch curtains that still need to be hemmed and hung and the door that’s been primed but never painted. I’d clean out the garage and the basement. Oh, what a glamorous time I would have!   

            So that’s my list. What would you do if you didn’t have to work?

The Motorcycle

This is my very first time linking up with Mama Kat’s Writing Workshop. The prompt? Write a post about a childhood memory as if you’re in that moment again…from the perspective of yourself as that child.

 

The Motorcycle

            My name is Vickie and I’m nine-years-old. My family is camping in Yellowstone National Park in our motorhome. It’s really beautiful here. My brothers love to go fishing and hiking. I like it too, but one of my favorite things is gettng to ride my bike to the camp store. I never get ride my bike to stores at home. The streets are too busy and the stores are too far away. But here in the campground, there isn’t as much traffic so my parents let me ride my bike to the camp store. Today I have money to buy some candy.

            Mum doesn’t let us eat much junk food so it takes me a long time to pick out what I want. I pay fifty cents for a package of Peanut M&M’s. It’s only a quarter at the grocery store at home. Stuff costs more here. I eat the candy outside before I get on my bike.    On the ride home a car comes up behind me so I steer my bike closer to the side. It’s sandy there and my bike slips. I feel the tires start to slide into the ditch. I hit my breaks too hard and fall off the bike face first. There is sand in my teeth and my chin is bleeding. I am crying. There is no one around. I stand up and try to get my bike back up to the the road.

            A motorcycle stops by the side of the road. The riders take their helmets off. The man has wild black hair and a thick beard. My dad has a beard too but he trims it all the time. It’s nice and neat. The lady has straight blond hair—it’s even longer than Marcia Brady’s hair. I wish my hair was like that, but it’s curly and brown.

            “Are you okay, Honey?” She asked me.

            I am a little hurt but mostly scared. I learned at school not to talk to strangers but I don’t want to be rude so I nod my head.

            “Can you walk?” She asks.

            Again, I nod. They seem nice. I don’t think they are going to hurt me. I’ve never met anyone with a motorcycle before.

            “Do you know the number of your campsite?” She asks me.

            “Yes,” I tell her. “We’re at site C5.” My parents always make sure I know the number before I go for a ride.

            “We’ll take you back there.”

            “Thank you.”

            I start to walk my bike up the road. “Want me to walk the bike back for you?”

            “That’s okay,” I said. I was embarrassed by the cut on my chin and I feel a little shy. I feel better leaning on the bike.

            “Are you sure?” The man asks. “I could give you a ride on the motorcycle and my wife could walk your bike for you.”

            I shake my head. I’m sure my parents would kill me if I accepted a ride from a stranger—especially on a motorcycle.

            He rides very slowly and she walks along side me until we reach my family’s campsite. My dad shakes the man’s hand and my mom takes me inside the motor home to clean my cut and wash out my mouth. There is a very small chip on one of my front teeth and the scrape on my chin looks like a beard. I can’t stop crying.

            My dad comes inside the motor home to check on me. “Are you okay Sweetheart?” he asks.

            I nod but the tears keep coming.

            “The cut isn’t too bad, but her front tooth is a little chipped.” My mother tells him.

            “Is that the problem?” He asks me. “Does your tooth hurt?”

            I shake my head. The chip feels a little weird, but it really doesn’t hurt.

            “Then what’s the problem? Why won’t you stop crying?"

            “Because I really wanted to ride on the motorcycle!”