Our wild girl
With ladybug gloves
And
Pink swirled garden boots
Perpetual laughter as you
Tease and poke
You Found One!
The most perfect strawberry
Of the bunch
But not
As perfect
As YOU, our love!
Category: Parenting
Family Green Thumbs
The family got down and dirty tonight.
We finally planted our garden out back. Eight tomato plants, twelve pepper plants, two garlic plants, and two broccoli plants (Mario begged Jon to get the broccoli plants so he is on the hook for eating it if it actually grows). Jon and I do not exactly have the greenest of thumbs so our fingers are all crossed that these plants actually produce some sort of edible food for us. Jon and I are dreaming of tomato and onion salad all summer. When Jon used the tiller over the weekend, he found strawberries growing in our garden. Strawberries! The former owner of our home was a gardening nut and had all sorts of vegetables and herbs and I guess, fruits planted around the house. Jon and I know the strawberry plants need some serious weeding but we have not quite got to that chore yet. There really needs to be a robot invented that can smell out the weeds in your garden and flower beds and scorch them down to the Earth so that we would not have to manually do it every single week. I can’t even tell what are weeds and what are flowers. Half of the time I learn something is a weed, I am amazed because I found it to be just as gorgeous as a flower, and I only pull it if it is obviously strangling the flowers in its stead.
Maria began the planting with us but soon tired of the activity and laid in the grass looking up at the sky. Mario came out only after we ordered him off the computer (he is a Ben Ten fanatic). However, once outside, he is a workhorse. He wants to do as much physical labor as possible. He begged to dig holes. He planted plants and covered them with dirt. He pulled weeds. He told me how far down I should place the garlic plants and he scolded me when I did not hold the root up straight for him. I see a gardener in the making.
Being outside with the entire family made me happy. No worries about homework (it was done) or running off to the store (it was done, too). Just hanging out in our garden, getting our hands dirty and gazing at the couple of strawberries peeking out at us.
Motherhood = Absurdity
“To write well in the mother-child arena, a person must understand that the essential condition of motherhood isn’t pleasure or wonderment or even terror — although there’s plenty of that. The essential condition is absurdity.”
I love this quote by Judith Newman of the New York Times writing about Anne Enright’s new book Making Babies. How true of an insight. Newman opines on why writing about children is tough: because 95% of child rearing is incredibly boring. It’s only the 5% of pure, raw joy that keeps us going. It’s easy to understand that 5% as mothers but what about the 95%? Newman questions “How did I survive spending most of 2004, the year my twin sons were 3, in front of a tank of sea lions? What got me through the years when the only way to persuade one son to brush his teeth was to hum the theme song to “The Pink Panther”?
I love her questions because she is being so real.
How many times do I need to wrestle Mario before he gets tired out? What gets me through playing baby with Maria every night? Why is it that the only way to get them upstairs to change in their pjs every night is to chase them like I am a big, kid-eating monster? How do I always fall into the trap of reading three extra books when I made it clear that I would only read one before bed? What am I thinking when I agree to let M&M help me make chocolate chip pancakes and eggs and powdered chocolate milk (can we say “complete mess”)?
I go back to the quote above… the essential condition of motherhood is absurdity. I look at all of these crazy antics I engage in and all of the hoops I climb through for these munchos, and I realize, yes, it is absurd. It is completely nuts. Insane. And I would never have dreamed of doing one-fourth of it when I was single and 25 years old. But would I change a bit of it now? Not a chance.
Spending Mom’s day with the kids
Mother’s Day begins two hours from now. Jon asked me what I wanted to do on my special day. In the initial moment, I thought “all I want is a day to myself.” Just head north to your mom’s house or east to your cousin’s house and let me have the day to do whatever I want whenver I want.
But after a few seconds of mulling the question over, I realized what would happen if they did leave. I would love the first couple of hours by myself and then I would be up at Stauf’s and see a couple with their baby and think of my pumpkins. I would miss them and Jon and wish they were home with me even if it would require me to listen to them beg for me to play with them or read them a book or take them to the library. Surely there would be moments during the day when I would second guess my decision and want my solitude but they would be outweighed by the joy in being with my family. After all, could I laugh as hard as I do when Maria performs her “Oh, I know you didn’t” routine? Or when Mario dances to a rap song? Could I appreciate the richness of the soil without digging into it with Mario? Could I enjoy watching a monarch butterfly fluttering around the flowers without listening to Maria talk about its delicate wings?
No, these little pumpkins are such a big part of my world now and being without them on Mom’s Day just feels wrong. After all, the reason I am celebrating this day is because of these two munch-balls. So, as the clock inches towards midnight, I think about our day tomorrow – play fish, throw the tennis ball, take a bike ride and get a ton of kisses and hugs from those sweet babes of mine all day long….
TGIF
Ten Reasons to be Grateful For Today…
1. Gorgeous powder blue sky with cotton ball clouds and 70 degree temperature = perfect biking to work weather.
2. Lunch with Mom at Mario’s school – free Panera with a big chocolate chip cookie! Running around the playground with Mario, spinning in plastic seats and playing tag in the muscle room. Mario made me a gorgeous beaded necklace so “I can remember him every time I wear it.”
3. Playing soccer with Maggie and Mario in the back yard (except when Maggie stole the ball from me and scored)!
4. Figuring out which drapes to get for the living room window and hall window. So exciting to branch out and take a walk on the wild side! I am not matching the color of the drapes with the furniture – crazy!
5. Seeing Jon on a scooter that his friend wants him to buy. He looked like a ten-year old who just got the present he begged his parents for all year.
6. Taking Maria to school and listening to Jack’s CD in the car. Maria asked if Jack wrote one of the songs after he broke up with Chelsea. I told her I was not sure and that we should ask him since we have the good fortune of being related to the singer of the band! She stopped me in my tracks and told me that we should not ask Jack such a question because it may make him sad and she doesn’t want to see her uncle sad. Also, loved seeing her in the cowboy boots that Grandma Meg got her for her b-day!
7. Going for a bike ride with Mario; he still fits in the baby seat on my bike! We biked all over Grandview; hit the park for some slide tag and Giant Eagle for a flower to plant outside.
8. Watching a yellow finch land on the branch of a japanese maple tree.
9. Talking to my mom about her new pup, Lou, and how everyone at the doggie day care thinks he is the best dog ever (so funny to see her as such a proud doggy mama!).
10. Eating Orange Leaf’s brownie batter and birthday cake yogurt with oreo and graham cracker topping. Mario got his pineapple, as always. And sitting outside together talking about desert animals.
Gratitude Runneth Over
I have been struggling over the last few weeks with the meaning of my existence. Ya know, just a light topic to ponder during the day. Colleagues think I am a blast!
In actuality, it is not so much pondering the meaning of my existence as it is pondering what I want to get out of this life. What do I want to accomplish? Where will I be in five years? These heavy questions can weigh me down very quickly, and I have been searching for a way to lift myself out of it when I move from productive questioning to destructive judgment.
I have found that one exercise is particularly helpful in stabilizing me, at the least, and boosting me, at the most. It is the practice of gratitude. As soon as I catch myself wallowing in self-pity or feeling like I am not contributing enough, I think of something for which I am grateful. Today it was a family soccer game. Jon tried to score on Mario. Maria and I ran around waiting for our turn. Jon and I tried to see how many head balls we could do to one another before the ball fell to the ground (don’t ask, it was not impressive). We all laughed together at Mario’s dives and Maria’s antics. It was a most enjoyable half of an hour as the sun began to set. It allowed me to remember to not get so wrapped up in the analysis of everything but to just relax (not a mainstream word in my vocab).
I have an incredible family and I have a wonderful home and I mean so much to M&M and Jon and friends and cousins. I don’t have to solve world hunger in order to have accomplished something in my life. That is not to say that I want to cease questioning where I am and what I want. To the contrary, this practice of gratitude actually motivates me to want to do more, to challenge myself, to think about what I want to do in the years ahead.
I am trying to consciously practice this art of gratitude everyday because I feel happier and less anxious when I do it. It relaxes me. And it is not that hard. I could look solely to M&M everyday for something for which to be grateful but I can also look to Jon (most days!), colleagues, the grocery store, you name it. I think we have so many things happen to us through the day, and we encounter so many people, that we could all fill up our lives practicing gratitude.
Remember that teenager who held the door for you or that old lady who smiled so sweetly at you? Remember when someone laughed at your lame joke or told you how great you looked? Remember when your child looked up at you and said “I love you?” Remember when your partner gave you a goodbye kiss? Remember when your favorite song came on the radio? Remember when you spotted a cardinal on the rose-bush?
The joys of nature, good food and family
The farm delivered good times this past weekend. Maria, her cousin and her friend drove out with me on Saturday afternoon. We jammed it out to Now 41 and Justin Bieber during the ride. Everytime I tried to sing with them, Maria would yell “Moooom, please don’t!” Even though she did not want me to sing, she did want me pump my arm up and down when we passed truck drivers along the way. She remembers me telling her my story of doing that as a kid and truck drivers honking away at me and my girlfriends when we were on long trips with our parents. They tried to do it from the back seat but the windows are tinted. I pulled through for them and pumped my arm (and showed a little leg) and got a few honks for them!
When we pulled up the drive to the farm, Maria began explaining the entire set-up to her friends. “There is my pee-paw in the garden and there is Rosie’s dog-run and the chickens are up in their house and the cabin is in the back and….” SHe is definitely at home out at the farm. The girls jumped out of the truck and bee-lined to Rosie. Maria and Alana love to play with Rosie. They throw her toy, play chase, love on her, and exhaust her. Janira, Maria’s school friend, was much more hesitant to get in the gated area with them. She stood back and watched. I think the whole farm scene overwhelmed her – she is a true city girl. However, she did get up her nerve to go into the chicken coop with the girls. And much to her amazement, she retrieved a chicken egg. All three girls retrieved one, and came running back to the house with eggs in their hands. They were different colors, mostly peach and grey-blue. Maria described to Grandma Meg how they found the eggs by digging under the hay (she knows all of the tricks of the farm, too).
Next, we headed to the creek below the house. Meg and I walked with them enjoying a few minutes together to talk about the latest going-ons in our lives. Meg and I don’t get to talk as much as we used to pre-kids because she lives two hours away and the kids are always with me when we see each other. I value even the small moments in time that we can catch up. The water in the creek flowed at a manageable level for the girls to walk around in their water shoes. Maria and Alana took off again, and Janira was a trooper trying to keep up. We walked to the swimming hole; a pool of water less than waist-high where the girls could jump around and splash. It looked like a little bit of paradise with the sun shining through the trees onto the water; the green plants and wildflowers lining the edge of the bank, the birds flying from one bush to the other, and the smell of nature. My dad talked about making a cleaner path to the swimming hole and setting up stones near the hole for adults to talk while the kids played. Retirement is hitting him soon, and he is already scoping out projects to keep him busy!
The kids were soaked after the swimming hole. We took them to the house and dried them off. When they moved to the table, they found sweet surprises from Grandma Meg. First, goodie bags with headbands and snap bracelets and crayons and pens. Second, a homemade Nature Journal complete with a twig fastener and activities inside. Leave it to my Meg-pie – she has a perfect combo of teacher, conservationist and nature guru. It had educational yet fun activities in it like discovering a tree and finding certain colors pasted onto a sheet of the journal (when we were walking in the woods and saw yellow bark, Janira yelled out “I found our yellow!”). She also had pages to detail the day, including writing one thing in nature that made you have a happier day (Meg gave them an example of a butterfly landing on her leg). They stood around the table soaking up her words. What an awesome influence for Maria Grace and her friends. These girls certainly walked away from the weekend with a greater appreciation for nature. They also got so excited over finding a caterpillar (which Meg looked up in her guide-book with Maria completely intrigued), a toad, and a woodpecker.
I helped my dad later in the afternoon following a sumptuous meal of spaghetti and meatballs, garlic bread and corn on the cob. We loaded up all of the slate from the barn to store next to the chicken house (the barn needs to be refurbished due to its age and the fact that it could topple over any second). Nothing better than some good, hard labor (when you are not forced to do it, heh?!). My body was rather shaky and exhausted after moving the slate and picking up a few giant rocks, but it was a good exhausted – one where you feel you’ve actually done something useful with this machine that is our body. I enjoyed time with my pops, too. When we rode on the forklift to get the rocks, there was a moment he looked back at me to make sure I was on securely. I felt like a kid again hanging out my dad. I wanted to tell him how much it meant to me to share that moment with him but it seemed a rather strange comment to make when we were both dripping in sweat and riding a forklift down a gravel hill. So I kept it to myself but I believe he knew just from the sheer fact of being my dad, and having an intuition for those things.
We returned to cake and ice cream – yummy. Meg and I laughed at our sweet Maria as she sat in her chair eating the icing off her cake. All was quiet and she chimed in “Ahh, I am enjoying this cake.” A perfect summation of what we were all thinking. We finished the night with Matilda – an absolutely adorable movie with Danny Devito and Rhea Perlman. It was super moon night, and it shined into the house so brightly that I felt like I was being interrogated at times. But it was gorgeous in the clear black night out in the country.
We woke on Sunday and rode horses. The girls all did a fab job with Meg and dad helping them. The horses were in great moods and caused no distress. After the girls rode, we had some killer pancakes made by dad. He uses a regular whole wheat mix but adds a bit of brown sugar to it and it makes them to die for. They have this crispness around the edges and a melt in your mouth taste. Sometimes he makes them with nuts and blueberries, which sounds amazing. After pancakes, the girls took a tractor ride around the pasture and gathered a few more eggs from the chicken brood. The bickering began around that time with little slights setting them off (Maria yelled at Alana for talking about dogs because it made Maria miss Cy; Alana yelled back; Maria yelled at Janira for “bragging” and Janira cried that she was not trying to brag but Maria always thought she was and it’s not fair…). Hence, it was a good time to leave so Meg and dad would not be subjected to it and I could ignore it from the long way off in the front of the truck.
We pulled out of the drive, and I felt so happy. You know those moments you get every once in a while where the entire world looks peachy-keen and life has circled around to right where you want it? I had it. Right in the palm of my hand. And then Maria threw a marker past Alana so she couldn’t use it and Alana screamed at Maria and Janira cried her head hurt, and I was back in reality. I had promised that we would stop at McDonald’s Playland on the way back home. Why did I do that? This McDonald’s Playland was the grossest one I have ever seen. The tables were dirty; the kids were loud and obnoxious, and the parents were even worse. One parent was yelling at her son to get down from the slide. When he refused she yelled “That’s it, Tiger, I am going to whoop on your ass with my belt in front of everyone.” I was ready to rescue the kid if she did it in front of me but she refrained. Eye-opening to see other walks of life. I pride myself on appreciating diversity but the folks in that McDonald’s tested me.
When we finally got home, we got to start the party all over again with Jon’s family. Patty had kept Giovanni and Mario all weekend up at her condo, and I am sure was ready to bring them down to our house to say good riddance! It took her over ten hours to make potato salad because she had to keep running after them. What a woman. I was being a little pissy from being tired when the rest of the clan arrived. The kids went down in the basement to dance to “I’m Sexy and I Know it” and Jon grilled hamburgers and brats and peppers. The meal was delicious, and I shook off my irritable mood and had a good time (it was probably the realization that I would get another whole sheet cake to eat (I had already had two others for Maria’s b-day earlier in the week)).
Everyone left around 8:30. Jon and I dropped on the couch. The kids fell pretty quickly, too. Maria’s b-day weekend brought lots of good times but I was glad to be on my couch with my hubby staring off into space. Although, loading up slate would be a close second.
Sitting still
Maria and I hung out this evening while Jon and Mario drove to Marion. Prior to their drive to Marion, we made dinner. Actually, I should say, Maria made dinner. She overheard a lady at the salon talking about how she made dinner for her mom starting when she was 6 years old, and that was all it took to get Maria in that mindset.
She poured pancake mix and water into a bowl. She filled a bowl full of chocolate chips and tried to mash them. When that didn’t work, she microwaved them (smart girl). She added the chocolate into the pancake mix. I poured them on the griddle and she flipped them. She also made eggs (she microwaved them). She got out our plates and syrup. She nearly did it all! Another year and I expect chicken parmesan and shrimp scampi…. And the chocolate pancakes were pretty darn good. I could have stood a few chips in them too but overall they hit the spot. Mario ate a few but he was too excited about going to Grandma Ionno’s house.
After dinner, Maria took off with me on her bike. We stopped at her friend’s house to play in the sprinkler (in her clothes) and by the time we left, it was close to 8:15. We cranked it home and I pulled out the lawn mower. I told Maria to grab a book or her markers and come outside while I mowed. A few minutes later, I saw her on the deck with her water and crazy straw. She sat on the deck chair watching me without any book or markers. When I moved to the front, she moved with me sitting on the front step with, still, just her water and straw. I kept waiting for her to grab something from inside or complain about being bored but she didn’t. She just waited for me to finish while sitting patiently and thinking about … well, I have no clue. And that is good. It was her time to be still and mindful. And I was so excited to see her be able to do this, and not be begging for the iPad or leapster or even a book.
Something I have a hard time doing.
But seeing her renewed my challenge to take that itme to be mindful myself. Funny how your children look up to you without having any idea how much you learn from them. And so tonight, I sat at the kitchen table for a whole five minutes before I scanned the computer for the latest news and updates. Hey, it’s better than nothing!
High Heels Only, Ma’am
Maria had two wishes for the start of her birthday. The first was for me to not workout on the morning of her birthday so I could do her hair. Piece of cake (she never lets me touch her hair so I was charged up about that one).
The second wish was for me to wear high heels when I walked into her school to drop her off. Not such a piece of cake.
“Mom, please wear high heels on my birthday. All the other moms wear fancy clothes and high heels. None of them wear fancy clothes and gym shoes like you do, mom. It’s embarrasing.”
Yeah – I plainly see the start of the “embarassing mom syndrome” shining through her new 7-year old self. I would never have imagined that I could embarass Maria by simply wearing gym shoes with my work outfits (now I know how to scare her!). But then again this is the girl who finds my laugh embarrasing because it’s too loud (although she fails to see how loud her voice can boom when she wants it to).
So, I stepped into my high heel shoes today and walked into Maria’s school. My feet ached just from the half of a block that we walked (Maria had chosen my most stylish but least comfortable heels for me to wear). Maria held her head up high as we passed her friends. She pointed out my shoes to certain girlfriends who looked like they would be impressed with such a shoe selection. I quickly changed into my gym shoes when I left her school, and when I came home tonight in my work outfit and gym shoes, Maria let out a deep sigh.
“Mom, what happened to the high heels I gave you this morning?!”
I felt like a teenager again being questioned about the rest of the $20 bill I received to get a $5 lunch.
“My feet were killing me, Ri,” I responded.
“You have to get used to heels, mom. But I will let you wear flats to dinner tonight.”
She does love me….
Happy 7th Birthday, my darling girl
Sweet Maria:
Tomorrow, at 2:49 pm, you will be seven years old. Seven years old. Seven.
At seven days old, you slept for hours on end in your frilly bassinet; the sun shining onto your perfect round face.
At seven months old, you did not want to leave your mom and dad, and you never broke a smile! You were a little buddha with a somber expression.
At one year and seven months, you loved to sit in your diaper and rub you silk bunny against your cheek.
At two years and seven months, you loved playing with your kitchen set and your baby dolls and purses; you learned to go potty all by yourself – alleluia; and you had quite a temper when you were not allowed to watch Dora.
At three years and seven months, you took good care of your baby brother, feeding and holding him and finding his binky. He had a different brand of binky than you, thank goodness, because you had not given up your binky yet!
At four years and seven months, you loved to ride up and down the street on your princess bike and eat Jeni’s ice cream. You earned the nickname “the Muscle” at preschool because you protected kids from bullies.
At five years and seven months, you had started kindergarten. You sat at a desk with your name on it and worked on your letters and numbers and made new friends. You had a sleep over with all of your girlfriends and danced around the house all night. In the summer, you jumped off the high dive!
At six years and seven months, you had started first grade! You dressed yourself every morning and made your own lunch! You made yourself barbecued chicken hot pockets and lasagna and wrapped them tightly in foil. You learned to read and ride your bike with no training wheels! You started listening to Justin Bieber and Katy Perry and dreamed about meeting James in Big Time Rush.
At seven years old, you are a most animated, joyful being. You smile constantly. You laugh heartily. You love your family and friends. You could eat spaghetti and meatballs every day and top it off with Orange Leaf yogurt bowls. You love to climb trees. You concern yourself with others. You look out for your little brother and still cuddle with your dad and me. You question things and aren’t scared to disagree. You stand up for yourself. You care about the Earth. You are comfortable with yourself. And you are absolutely amazing beyond words, my darling girl. Happy 7th birthday; we love you to the moon and stars and sun… and back.
"MOM!" 