Talking

JR is talking! Maybe this is better....JR is talking and we can understand some of what he is saying. JR has talked almost since birth. In the past year however, he has talked nonstop, with gestures and inflections, laughing at his own jokes and looking to us to understand his stories. But we were like tourists in a foreign country; we had no clue what words he was saying. He was, however, an effective communicator. We very clearly knew what he wanted and did not want. You don't need words for that! Now, in the few days that have followed his second birthday, words are coming out that we can all understand. My prediction is that now that the dam has broken, his words and stories will tumble out in rapid succession. We may wish we were still in the dark.....


It never ceases to surprise me how what we worry about the most always works out. We have been worried about JR being slower to talk for a good while. I would listen so carefully to his conversations to see if I could make meaning. Even now, he talks to himself and that is in his own language, but when he talks to us, we can understand. So many leaps in a few days. So much weight off my shoulders.


I sometimes think I worry more about my grandchildren than I did my own children. Maybe I was so caught up in the day to day that I didn't have time to step back and worry. I think that is a good thing. I do remember worrying that Matt hit his mouth so often that he would have a dead tooth for his preschool pictures. I remember that was on my mind a lot for a few days (it never happened). I remember worrying that one of Lizzie's toes would never stop hiding behind the other. We called it the "hidey toe". Looking back, those are such little worries. With my grandchildren, I worry, or rather, spend time thinking about, bigger things. I guess that is because they are out of my control. I am not raising them each day. This is a good thing. Their parents are far better equipped for it than I am. But that loss of control leaves time for thought and concern.


Most importantly, my grandchildren give me joy beyond what I can ever put into words. I watch them learning and growing into little people with definite minds of their own. I love to listen to them as they put simple sentences together and play with each other in such a loving and delighted way. I love snuggling the babies and enjoying the escapades of the toddlers. They are hilarious.


Each milestone is to be celebrated.......JR is talking!

Parenthood

Often when we think of  "parenting" or "parenthood", we think of young couples with new babies, embarking on the journey of life with children and all that it implies. Magazines with the word Parent in the title are geared to the parenting that occurs during these early busy years. And don't get me wrong, they are busy; too busy sometimes to read the very magazines that are targeted to the young parent population. But I am thinking about parenting as it continues through your children's lives, long after they are no longer considered children by society, but always children in a parent's eyes.

I don't think it is possible to imagine as a young parent, the scope of the job you have embarked upon. It seems  more finite. One stage leads to another until they leave home to begin their own lives and then you are done. Right? Nope. You are never done. The job just gets harder. The saying goes, "Little children, little problems. Big children, big problems." This hints at that the scope of parenting but one can argue, that without problems, then the job is done. I say, it is never done. The worry and responsibility of being a parent extends to every day of your life, conception to death. It just gets more complex as your children get older.

I have no control over the everyday life of my children as I did when they were little. That is liberating in one sense but also a tad scary at times. I can no longer protect them from the things that can hurt them. I can no longer make sure they take care of themselves, eat right, get enough sleep, nourish their minds and their bodies. I have to trust that I have given them the skills they need to do it themselves. I am blessed. My children are smart capable adults. But I am still here in this role of parent, trying to figure out the boundaries and rules of this stage in their and my life. How much do I offer, when do I speak up and what do I say. It gets so much more complicated than the days, of "because I say so, that's why." On those occasions when your children ask for advice or help as adults, oh the leaping of your heart that comes with sharing your thoughts with full measure. Not holding back for fear of going too far.

There is no harder moment as a parent, than watching one of your children in pain; physical or emotional. Every fiber in your body wants to take the pain away, make it your own. It is a powerless feeling of not being able to make it all better. I know full well that emotional pain is a powerful change agent. I have been there myself many times. I know that it is all part of life's journey but I still wish I could spare my children that part of life. No matter how much I know it has to occur, I cannot help but feel worried and helpless on the sidelines.

Parenthood is massive in scale. Maybe it is best that in the beginning, we only see those little stages and milestones and not that whole big picture at once. Easier to celebrate pee pee in the potty than to think of a  job that only gets harder with time and  never ends. Even bigger is to realize that you never want it to.......

Relational Sustainability

Sustainability…….usually this word is used in connection with farming. Growing your food and being able to supply your own needs. I like the thought of that even though it is larger in scale than what I can mange. Food wise, we are making a stab at it with our first attempt at raised bed gardening. I love seeing the vegetables growing and the herbs basking in the spring sun. But that is not really what I have been thinking about. I am thinking more about relational sustainability. Do you have what it takes to go the distance?

No life is without good times and bad. I think back on the last ten years and it seems like we were given more than our share of hardships and trials. I am not sure they are over even yet. But that has been overshadowed by the blessings we have been given. The scale is tipping far more into blessing than grief that is for sure. The birth of sweet Cameron Auburn and all of our wonderful grandsons brings joy to my heart and de-stresses my body, even if for just a little bit. The bigger question is how do we react to this balancing act together…..do we allow it to tear us apart or to strengthen us. Sometimes the answer is not so clear.

It is the highs and lows that seem to increase communication and intimacy but most dangerous of all is the lull in between the two……when life is flowing and seems to take over, washing away precious moments and conversations never had. During these moments, do we fight back and carve out time for what matters most, or do we wait for the next big event to occur? I spent the better part of my early adult life swimming in that sea of neglect. I managed to throw myself a life jacket and seek other waters and I will not drown again. The lessons I learned I want so desperately to pass along to my children and to those who matter to me. Find yourself first and then fiercely protect your time and what matters. First things, first. Don’t let life rip you apart from yourself and don’t let anyone convince you that you don’t matter. Life is hard, we all know that. We all need a port to cling to; family that loves us and helps us survive the bad and celebrate the good. Most importantly, we need to know that we matter; to ourselves first of all and then that we matter to others.

My heart is full today. My task is to keep it that way and never lose sight of what really matters. A reminder to all I love……first things first.

Looking ahead to Summer

First of all, let me define Summer. It isn't the season I look forward to, it is that oh so brief time between the end of school and the beginning of school. This weekend, I can allow myself to let my mind glance at the possibilities of the upcoming Summer before I am so entrenched in the testing season that I can only think of bubble sheets and eraser marks.

For some reason, each Summer in recent memory has been marked in my mind by what cooking mood I was in and my self declared theme for the Summer. One Summer it was rustic fruit tarts until I could make up the combos by myself....no recipe following, just fruity goodness. The Summer we went to Colorado, I called the Cowboy Summer. Rustic, peppery food with unusual combinations of flavors. Not exactly Tex-Mex but a with a bit of that flair. One year we had a fabulous crop of jalapenos that were huge and almost sweet and I think we had stuffed poppers almost every night, in lots of different ways, for our Happy Hour. This year, thanks to Bob starting our raised gardens, we are growing a whole variety of  heirloom vegetables that will be my inspiration along with an entire dedicated bed of  fresh herbs right by the kitchen. Maybe our jalapenos will be perfect again......

I am always trying to find the perfect Summer drink to go with the theme. I think Bob has stumbled up on a winner that can be the base for many variations..........it is a homemade lemonade or citrus-ade depending on what we have on hand, and it is very refreshing and low in calories. With lots of ice, that is a winner. A good base for lots of different cocktails as well...

I think the point is, that when I have time, my mind turns to the kitchen. I let the local, fresh crops, along with our travels, and my reading, be my inspiration. I have the time, to tinker, test and explore different tastes and styles without feeling like I am taking time away from chores I should be doing. Any time I have some extra time, I turn to cooking but the Summer gives me time to be truly inspired.

I have more years than I would like until I can retire but it is something I think about more in this stage of my life than ever before. I also wonder what I will do with that new time of my life, which will, God willing, be a long stretch. Right now, I think I will fill my days with my own productivity......playing in the kitchen, playing with crafts, playing with my grandchildren, and traveling, to keep my inspirations flowing.

In the meantime, I will just glance at the coming of Summer, and wonder where it will take me.

Road Trip

When I was little my dad would come home and say to my mom, "Let's take a little trip to..." and we would pile in the car and go. We took a cooler full of sandwiches and soda that we would eat on the road. I was allowed to pack "my suitcase" which was red plaid. In it I could take the toys (mainly dolls with their clothing) that I wanted to take. No more than that little suitcase. Our dog, Heidi, and I would get the back seat and my Mom and Dad took the front. I have no idea what year Chevy it was, but I know it was always a Chevy, and it was a turquoise blue. It might not have had air or power anything, but it did have huge bench seats with no seat belts so you could sprawl out. Off we would go. What seemed boring at times to me then, no DVDs or satellite radio, seared wonderful memories into my brain so that when I think of road trips, I get happy.

Bob and I are about to take a road trip. I take lots of them but Bob and I, not so many. We usually fly. Our road trips are at our destination in a rental car. Fun, but not the same. We are setting out to drive the Blue Ridge Parkway. Probably not the best time of year for the trip, but I am off, which makes it perfect. When I bought my car last year, I actually thought about how great it would be for the trip with the huge sunroof and comfy seats. I am ready.

I like being able to pile all that I want into the car. No weighing luggage...I can take what I want, even my pillow. I can take a cooler and snacks. With a GPS and an atlas, we can meander to our hearts content...kind of. I am not very good at spontaneous any more. I like to know where my head will rest the next night. But I am more relaxed, which is a good thing.

I am doing the driving. It saves the passenger side brake a lot of wear and tear. Don't get me wrong, Bob is a great driver. I am a bad passenger. I love to drive; always have. I love long distances and scenic vistas which I can glance at and be happy. Bob, on the other hand, likes to have that longer, lingering view, which does not mix with driving.

So we are setting off tomorrow. Happy Trails!

Weekday Waves

My mind is such a different animal on the weekend. It feels clean and clear of clutter...just like the wonderfully salty breeze you get at the beach. I feel as if all things are possible and I am truly present in my life.

Then comes Monday morning. I don't know about you but hearing the alarm at 5 am does not start my day out on a "beachy" note. No matter when I go to bed, my body rebels against getting up in the dark when I should just be using the bathroom and crawling back under the covers. The shower helps but really only a little bit. I feel like I drive to work on automatic. Don't get me wrong, I love my job; I would just like to do it later in the day and when I want to. Never the less, each weekday finds me at school. I feel like I am fully present at school, just maybe not fully present in my life. I can never remember the little things I have to do for "real life" unless I write them down. I get so involved in "school life" I can barely remember I have another life. I love the picture scroll on my computer because it reminds me that the world awaits and I do have an active role in it.

It feels like being in the ocean during the week. I am underwater so everything is a little muffled. I can only concentrate on staying afloat. Waves continually come and wash over me, forcing me to concentrate on reaching the surface once again. They aren't necessarily bad waves, but they are still forces to be reckoned with and survived. I drive home much like I arrived, on automatic, but certainly more tired from my bout with the sea of school.

I hate to say this but I think I am sort of like seaweed at home during the week, tossed into my chair. I get dinner, but forget to savor the process. I focus on savoring the end product (most times) but really I focus on watching the clock while mindlessly watching TV.....ahhhh, time to go to bed, that glorious finish to the day. As I have gotten older, I know it has gotten worse. But I am not too old to give up the fight. And I fight on....

Blessed are the weekends and the breaks for they allow me to reenter my true life; my family, my home, my pets and yes, even my chores. Although at times it feels as if the weekend is just filled with more things I need to do, I feel as if I am more present in the "to do" lists of laundry, cleaning and cooking. I chose what I get done and who I spend my time with rather than it being determined for me. No matter how chaotic it is on the weekends, it it still my mind's way of clearing the water and allowing me a chance to collect myself on the shore that is my life.

Maybe I will be ready to set sail again on Monday morning....

In Honor of Murphy

Ten years ago to the day, a dog wandered up through the woods to take comfort in our car port, behind the gas grill. When my husband shooed him out, he hid under the low lying brush in the woods, just beyond our gate. Time and again my husband tried to shoo him off only to find him back on the carport in his spot behind the grill. He looked like such an old dog, covered with gray, that we thought he had come to seek shelter and die. "You can't take in every dog that wanders up, Barbara." words repeated frequently by my husband over the course of the next two days and then my husband went out of town... and I fed the dog. Well, as you can guess, that was it. The beginning of our life with Murphy.

We quickly discovered that something was wrong with Murphy. He had a pronounced limp and a wound on his hip that did not look good. We wrapped him up and took him to our vet. Poor Murphy was in foul shape. He had a pin in his hip that was working its way out and was causing pain and infection. Surgery was the only option to remove the pin and make him better. Without hesitation, we both said yes and left Murphy in the able hands of our vet. When we went back the next day to retrieve him, I told our vet that we had been scouring the neighborhood, looking for Murphy's owners, Surely they were worried sick. No one knew of a missing dog with a broken hip. My vet took me aside and said, "I wouldn't look too hard, Barbara. This is a really sweet dog and you could give him a really good home." Not only that, he told us that Murphy was not old, he had just been through a lot in his two years; broken jaw, missing teeth and a broken hip that would leave him with a permanent limp and limited use of his left back leg,and partial blindness in his right eye that would get worse over time. How could I say no to that? Home we came and Murphy took up residence. We already had Molly at the time and she was none to pleased with this new addition but over time, before her death, they settled into life together.

At first Murphy was an outside, country dog. He ran through the woods and pastures to his hearts content. Mostly he stayed close to home on the driveway, playing with toys and lying in the sun. My husband built a beautiful dog house in the garage for him with comfy pillows. However, being who I am, I started to let Murphy in the house night after night, not wanting him to be too cold or too hot. Well, you can also guess the rest of this part of the story.

Murphy lead a charmed life while part of the Smith household. As new dogs took up residence, Murphy welcomed them into the fold graciously. They in turn, recognized him as Top Dog, and sought his approval. He was rather blase about all of their attentions, preferring to watch from a comfortable spot while they played and rough-housed.

There was nothing Murphy enjoyed more than a good swim in the lake. He was as graceful in the water as he was gimpy on land. Don't get me wrong, he could run faster than any of them on his three legs but in the water he was true grace and seemed totally at home. When coyotes arrived in the woods, we had to stop those free days to the lake and I felt sorry the most for Murphy. Better to be safe....

There is no way that I can record all the stories and all the loving days we spent with Murphy. He was just one heck of a dog...and we will miss him.

Play Dates

Last weekend, JR had a playdate. Unlike the playdates my children enjoyed, JR's was a playdate with adults. Lizzie, our great friend Kat and I took JR for a picnic at a park with apparatus just for little people. We had a picnic, played in the park and back at Kat's.  It was a glorious day. It made me start thinking about when Matt and Lizzie were little......

I was so blessed when my children were little to be able to be at home with them. Despite the disastrous effects to the family financial picture, it was worth every moment and penny, literally. Even though I loved every minute at home, I still needed to have some adult time and friends of my own. I was incredibly lucky to meet a group of women who had children the same age as Matt. At that time, all of us had only one child and we were all home with our children. We took turns hosting playdates where the kids played and the moms watched and talked. I am pretty sure they started when the kids were all about 7-8 months old so maybe the word playing is a bit of a stretch for a while at least.

I don't think I realized at the time, the impact that group of women would have on my life, or that the memories made there would be some of my sweetest. Because I had no family near, those women became my family. We took turns babysitting, swapping sickness, and caring for one another through the years as our children grew. Eventually we formed a bowling team and joined a league with other young mothers (this was the midwest, you know...). That once a week outing, with the children in the nursery, were the highlights of the week. Then, as with happens with close friends, we all got pregnant with our seconds at the same time. Everyone delivered within about six weeks of each other. That made bowling interesting to say the least! Nothing like going for your approach only to be stopped in your tracks with an aggressive baby kick. As each of the seconds made it to the six week mark, back to the lanes we went, infant seats lined up with our shoes.

Of the original playdate group, my closest friend was Pat. Ryan and Matt played for hours while we quizzed each other with Trivial Pursuit cards. While pregnant with Adam and Lizzie, we tried every recipe for Cole slaw we could find (a mutual craving) and painted each others toe nails to the refrain of "Mattie, are you?" as the boys played hide and seek. There was one time when Matt chased Ryan with a butter knife but that is a whole other story. Through Pat, I met Barbie, a sorority sister of Pat's. The three of us formed a tight bond through playdates with the boys and lunches where we drank coffee and Crystal Light with great abandon. When it would be mine turn to host, I remember scouring my cookbooks for something easy and great to make for my friends and our kids. As the boys grew, so did the fun they had together, especially outside in nice weather where they could holler and run all they wanted. All the boys accepted Lizzie into the group, even as they looked at her somewhat confused as she was always wearing a dress and party shoes (her choice always) while she ran and hollered with the best of them.

My grandchildren and their parents will have different memories. Their lives are different from mine was when they were little.....not better or worse, just different. What I do wish for them is to grow up with a little group of friends that they will remember when they are old. And for their parents, my precious children, I wish they will find friends like Pat and Barbie who will impact their lives in a profound way and whose friendship is cherished even though we are far apart.

Weekends

Why is it that time is so different on the weekends? Those hands on the clock spin at a different speed than they do on a work day. It is more like the speed they run on at night...zip and its time to get up. It just isn't fair. What looks like endless possibilities on Friday night become unfinished projects by Sunday night. And for me, I'm lucky I even GET to the projects!

I think my brain and its "To Do" list is far bigger than the time on the clock. Maybe it is my need to actually get a decent night's sleep instead of getting up before the roosters. It seems that between grocery shopping (which you already know I love), laundry (which I don't), shoveling through the debris of the week, trying to cook at least one awesome meal and spending at least some time catching up with friends and family, it is gone. The elves never visit and finish up the boring stuff. I am left Sunday night, standing by the washer with one last load, lamenting the passage of time.

I often think that if I had a three day weekend, life would be better. Think of what I could finally get done. Alas, I think I would find myself in the same place at the end of the day......too much I want to do with too little time.  I don't ever find myself thinking this at the end of a workday. Not done? There is always tomorrow. That doesn't work for weekend stuff, at least not for me. Not done means waiting until the week is done and Friday night rolls around in all it's glory. I can't seem to do anything but cook dinner and collapse during the work week. It all waits for me until the weekend....

Maybe this is why my Christmas tree sits sadly in the living room and decorations are piled on the dinning room table, waiting to rest in storage boxes. I vow to finish it all before February! Just close your eyes when you come to visit and you find yourself on your way to the bathroom. Remember the family room and kitchen look great! I'm working on it. In fact I better get busy. The game starts in a few hours and I can't miss that, can I?????

Ahhhh.....the weekend..........a blissful interlude that is as fleeting as it is enjoyable......

Menu Mania

I love planning menus. I think I started to love cooking in my early twenties and it has been a passion ever since. I love reading cookbooks the way you would read a novel. I have gone years without repeating a recipe, except for holidays (those rarely change....until recently) I have my ritual....

Every cooking magazine and most cookbooks have post it note flags through it marking the recipes that strike me the most; that I want to try. It takes me a long time to read through and devour the ideas and flavors as they appear in print.

Friday (sometimes as early as Thursday) I start to pull current magazines or a cookbook or two that appeal to me. I begin the LIST. On one page I write the recipes that I feel most inclined to make for the next week, along with a note about where to find them again. (When my children were smaller, I made my lists for two weeks at a time so that I didn't have to shop as often. I think I just got carried away...) Unless I am really tired, I have lots and lots of choices. I end up surrounded by cookbooks and magazines before I am done and satisfied with my choices. The second page is where I list all my ingredients for my shopping list. My daughter has been known to exclaim when she was younger, "There is nothing to eat in this house....only ingredients!" You know what...she was right. But oh the joy of having those ingredients and knowing I was going to make luscious food with them for my family.

Almost every Saturday morning, I go to the grocery store. It is one of the things I look most forward to on the weekend. To me, it represents all the endless possibilities of dinner creations. I love to read the labels and select just the right ingredient for each dish. I am a savvy shopper but not a thrifty shopper. I have learned that quality ingredients make a quality product and quality is rarely cheap, unfortunately. By now, I go organic as much as I can....but that is a whole other conversation. Let's just say it goes with the whole quality argument...

I don't like putting everything away. I wish I could skip that part. What I do like is the feeling it gives me knowing that all those ingredients for all those lovely dishes are in arms reach. I like the anticipation of making each dish and the joy I get in serving them to my loved ones. I think if I am ever alone, really alone,  I will have to cook for someone....family, friends, co-workers, total strangers.... I don't think I can give up the joy that the entire process gives me. Just yesterday, someone ate something I made and said with great enthusiasm, "Honey, that is GOOD!" And they weren't even family!

I am grateful for the joy that cooking and all that goes with it, brings to me. One of my blessings....

Little Joys

The more I have thought about living each day to the fullest, I have wondered if savoring all the little moments that bring joy is part of the whole big picture. While my husband says that nothing is better than....well you can fill in the blank here (and don't get me wrong, it is pretty darn great), there are lots of little moments that maybe we don't relish enough. Maybe we take some of them for granted, not stopping to give it the full attention and appreciation each one deserves.

For me, each of these little joys bring a smile to my face:
   that first sip of coffee in the morning
   sliding into a clean bed with fresh soft sheets
   getting your pillows just right
   that first bite of something you really love to eat
   grocery shopping (I may be alone on this one...)
   the journey through a really good book
   hearing someone speak who inspires you to become better
   seeing your family pull up for a visit
   the magic of Christmas
   a kiss from a grandchild
   watching your team play well and win
   hearing pride in your child's voice as they tell you of their accomplishments
   hugs from my family and friends
   getting a compliment that matters
   feeling like you helped someone
   the sense of peace that Friday night brings
   smelling a good meal cooking
   setting off on vacation
   seeing the ocean and its majesty
   the company of good friends
   a shared laugh or tear with those who matter most to you
   pulling into my driveway and knowing I am home

The list could go on forever. Just pausing to think about what brings me joy, makes me realize once again how many blessings I have, that we all have, that we need to count now and then. For all the bad and hurtful things in our lives, there are wonderful gifts to treasure that make the rest fade in the background. I hope I bring joy to other's lives. For me, I plan on being much more aware of all the joys in my life so that my list will go on and on.

Today I am grateful for the peace of this Sunday morning....

Making it count

I struggle with the notion of living each day as if it were your last. For some reason I have been pondering my own mortality in the past few months and the sudden death of one of my beloved dogs drove home the fragility of life. How do we live each day fully when so much of it is crammed with the mundane. If I have laundry and work and school work on my "to do" list, how can I say I have lived the day to the fullest? I try to keep a positive attitude about everything I do and I would say that most would agree that I am a happy person. But is this what is meant by living each day to the fullest. Is it the same as being present in your day? I think for the most part I am for at least part of the day......I know that sometimes I am just going through the motions. What I want is to live my life as fully as possible. It sounds so good. I just keep struggling with the "how". Where are the instructions?

Maybe the best thing I can do is to live my life with a happy heart, literally and figuratively. If I set a priority on improving my life with more healthy choices then maybe I will have more time to ponder if I made each day count. I have much gratitude in my life, but maybe it is time to start a gratitude journal. Oprah says it will change your life :) I pretty much trust what Oprah says.

Here is my first gratitude....I am grateful for the support and love my family provides. I am a lucky person.