The joys of nature, good food and family

May 7, 2012Leave a comment

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

May 3, 2012Leave a comment

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

May 2, 20122 Comments

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

May 1, 20121 Comment

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.

Conquering the bike

April 30, 2012April 30, 2012Leave a comment

Maria has conquered the art of biking!

She is now able to mount the bike by herself and get off the bike by herself. She must have grown a half-inch over the last two months because that was the crux of the problem earlier. She couldn’t quite get her foot down to the ground when she stopped the bike without falling over in a heap. But now when she stops, she is able to get the very top of her foot onto the ground like a ballet dancer’s en pointe and that little move stops her from falling to one side. And she has mastered the balance of putting one foot on a pedal while jumping on her seat and getting the other foot on the other pedal. It is the coolest sight ever!

The babes riding away!

I am so proud of that girl. And she loves to bike up the street alone with me far behind her. She does a great job looking down both sides of the street when she crosses at intersections and she doesn’t have to deal with any crosswalks with lights for a mile (and by that time I have caught up with her – albeit gasping for air).

Mario wants so badly to catch up with her. We took his training wheels off yesterday with the hopes that he would just pick up the art of two-wheeled biking. Wishful thinking. It is so funny how siblings have incredibly different strengths and weaknesses. Maria is so good at biking and rock climbing. Mario, not so much. Mario is so good at baseball and basketball. Maria, not so much. He fretted the entire time we rode and made me bend down to hold the front and back of the bike. My back screamed in pain when we got home (he did massage it for me though!). He wasn’t too proud to ask to put his training wheels back on, thank goodness. I was worried he would not ask because he would think it was a “defeat.”

Maria, forever the cheerleader, immediately zoned in on the potential break-down Mario could have exhibited over the bike. She wrapped her arm around Mario’s neck, and said “Ahh, buddy, you will get the hang of it. You can do anything!” Mario responded “I just want to win!” Maria looked up at me, shook her head and whispered “Oh, Mario, Bo Bario.”

Saved again by Ms. Lamott

April 29, 2012Leave a comment

I love Anne Lamott. I can’t say it enough: I love her. Love her! Love her!

The other night, we started the process of putting the kids to bed. I have talked to many a parent, and all agree that it is a “process.” It might be a five-minute process for some lucky souls. Fifteen minute for others. Half hour or hour for others. We are lumped into that group. So by the time we reach an hour of “processing” for bed, we are both shot. One false move by either kid may lead to a reaction that is overblown and far too intense based on the circumstances. But that is the result of a long day full of irritations, be it people or things. We can’t blow up on these people during our day because they are our bosses or clients or colleagues. So we blow up on our little munchos because they are with us late in the evening and they are needy and they can’t fire us.

And then we feel like crap. Like mutant beings.

I typically hit my final point when I have asked M&M five times to stop wrestling on our bed and to brush their teeth. I hear a crash and one of them crying. Then fighting. Then more crying. Then the crying one tattling on the other, and the other tattling about the crying one and how the crying one started it. And then the crying one hitting the other making the other cry. So now I have two crying kids and I want to smash my head against the wall. I yell and scream and occasionally throw a small object against the wall. I stomp around. I shake my head.

And then Maria walks up to me and wraps her arms around my legs. Or Mario says “I’m sorry, mom.” And typically my anger and frustration lower quite a few notches if not dissipates on the spot. I am thankful for their resilience and my ability to realize my demons.

When they are flat on back, tucked in and kissed goodnight, I open up Anne Lamott’s Plan B Further Thoughts on Faith. I read a passage where she describes blowing up at her son one night.

“What has helped me lately was to figure out that when we blow up at our kids, we think we’re going from zero to sixty in one second. Our surface and persona are so calm that when a problem begins, we sound in control when we say “Now, honey, stop that.” or “That’s enough.” But it’s only an illusion. In fact, all day we’ve been nursing anger toward the boss or boyfriend or mother, yet since we can’t get mad at nonkid people, we stuff it down…. It’s your child’s bedtime and all you want is for him to go to sleep so you can lie down and stare at the TV – and it starts up. “Mama, I need to talk to you.” It’s important.” So you go in and muster your patience, and you help him with his fears or his thirst, and you go back in to the living room and sink into your couch and then you hear “Mama? Please come here one more time.” You lumber in like you’re dragging a big dinosaur tail behind you, and you rub his back for a minute, his sharp angel shoulder blades. The third time he calls, you try to talk him out of needing you, but he seems to have this problem with self-absorption, and he can’t hear that you can’t be there for him. And you become wordless with rage. you try to breathe, you try everything, and then you blow. You scream, “Fucking dammit! What? What? What? Can’t you leave me alone for four seconds?” Good therapy helps. Good friends help. Pretending that we are doing better than we are doesn’t. Shame doesn’t. Being heard does…. I lay on the couch with my hands over my face, shocked by how hard it is to parent. And after a minute, Sam sidled out, still needing me, to snuggle with me, with mean me, needing to find me – like the baby spider pushing in through the furry black legs of the mother tarantula, knowing she’s in there somewhere.”

She manages with such ease to normalize this episode with M&M; to take a deep breath and know that I am trying my hardest. To talk to Jon. To admit my faults. And finally, to keep loving on my munchos even with my tail between my legs.

Sleep Mask and Earmuffs

April 27, 20121 Comment

Jon called down to me last night after he went upstairs to bed. He directed me into Maria’s room when Maria was fast asleep at the top of her bed. About half way down the bed laid Mario….

In earmuffs and a sleep mask.

He has been fascinated with sleep masks for the last week, and he has a coronary every time he can’t find his before bed. Last night, he told me I was being too loud so he grabbed his earmuffs, too on his way upstairs. Maria falls asleep in a heartbeat without any aides. If a sleep mask and earmuffs do it for Mario, bring ’em on.

Do you like being a mom?

April 26, 20121 Comment

Mario sat in the car while I loaded in the pizza for our dinner. I was getting ready to close the door when Mario asked me:

“Do you like being a mom?”

I could not believe he asked me this question. In thinking about it some more, it’s a valid question, and a provocative one for a four-year old. I was surprised at how quickly I responded “yes!” He smiled. Then I asked him if he liked being my son, and he prmptly replied “yes” to my glee.

Then I started singing my made-up song “Mario is my baby and I love him to the moon and the stars…!”

He promptly stopped me mid-stream and yelled “Mom, please stop singing!”

I looked back at him, and he explained “I love you mom, but not your singing.”

He may be inquisitive, but he is also brutally honest.

Dancin’ the Night Away

April 25, 2012Leave a comment

Maggie came over tonight and we jammed it out to Call Me Baby. Maggie introduced me to this song a couple of weeks ago and I can’t get it out of my head. I sing it while heading to meetings and picking up the kids and mowing the lawn. I just wish I could dance like any of the youngins’ in the video. Maggie jammed out a move to try to teach me but I looked like I was having a major chest spasm.

Later in the evening, we found Now 7 and Now 41 CDs in Maria’s room. This discovery set off a round of dancing sessions with Maria and Mario (and Jon even got a wild hair when Nelly sang). Maria is thoughtful when she dances because she is busy trying to hear what the words are to the song while she dances. This causes her to look like she has no rhythm. And because she has my genes, she is already one step in the hole when it comes to rhythm. Mario, on the other hand, has some moves in him. He could care less about the words to the song; he just moves to the beat and lets the words go as they may. The two of them together are a hysterical live show. At one point, Maria started jumping up and down and throwing her arms up to put bunny ears behind her own head. Maggie and I thought we should try her move at the bar next time we went out.

Mario began to move like Rico Suave and gently hold his fingers to my mouth as he stared at me. Jon commented that he has a career as a Chippendale. Twenty seconds after he said that, Mario sprang out from behind the chair with his robe and shirt tore off. Bare-chested with his pj bottoms dancing to “I’m Sexy and I know it.” What a shame.

Who created these two!?

Tuesday ramblings

April 24, 20122 Comments

My mom came up from Cincy tonight with the hope that she could help me figure out what were weeds and what were flowers in my garden, and also see the grandkids on the side. She picked up Maria from school, a treat Maria absolutely loves. If she could have each of her grandparents pick her up everyday of the week, she would be in heaven. When they got home, Maria helped my mom in the garden a bit and then asked her if she could ride her bike to the park. This question floored my mom who expected Maria to ask to watch tv or play a game. They biked down to the park, and Maria gave my mom a mini-stroke when she climbed up her favorite tree to the near top. My mom made her stop way before she typically stops, which majorly irritated Maria. Mario and I arrived soon thereafter. We walked down from the house. I had given him the option to bike but he wanted to race. He set forth the typical prize for winning the race – a chocolate cake. We ran about a block and then he asked me to carry him. As I carried him the six blocks to the park, we talked about the green leaves and why they were green now and brown in the Fall time. He also asked me if he would die, and we talked about how everyone dies eventually. He asked if I would die, and then covered my mouth when I started to answer. He shook his head while holding my mouth and confirmed to me “mom, I know you will die, too, just like me.” Nothing like some light, uplifting conversation with your four-year old on the way to the park.

After the park, we headed to the police station to go to the bathroom, and to say hi to our former neighbor, Kim. Maria biked from the station to Panera. Mario ran most of the way. I love it when they enjoy being outdoors on their own. At Panera, they learned how to make “lemonade” from Grandma Lolo. They squeezed three lemons into their water and added one Splenda. Maria also wanted to add a Sweet-n-low, which made her water taste like something a hummingbird would love. We walked home from Panera with much pomp and circumstance. Maria crossed a street without looking, which prompted a major smack-down from my mom on me. She was completely right; I need to do a better job of making these kids look both ways or stop at the edge of the street. But I still felt irritated. After a few minutes, I realized it was not so much irritation as it was hurt. It’s funny how we, as adults, still look to our parents for moral support and adoration. We still want to impress them with our skills – only it’s parenting skills rather than algebra brilliance.

But I am 40 years old – really, Mar, let it go. In the end, a lot of the hurt has to deal with me realizing that I am letting myself down. I know I need to set more rules and work harder at imposing more boundaries and structure at certain times (like at an intersection!). I am pissed at myself for not working harder at doing just that. So, learn from it and do it better (you all just got a little glimpse of the dialogue raging through my head – lovely, heh?!).

After we worked in the garden a bit more, we decided to treat ourselves to Orange Leaf. A car trip later, we were eating yogurt with oreos and brownies and lucky charms on top. Maria sat slumped in her seat with her sunglasses resting on her head and Mario sat in his seat staring at Shrek and eating pineapple yogurt. My mom looked at me and said matter of factly “Your kids are mod.”

I am still trying to figure out whether she meant “mod” to mean dashing and smart or to mean offbeat. Either way, I will embrace the compliment, which I know she meant it to be. After all, what grandma gets to hang out with a pirate grandson and a granddaughter who engages in questions about past relatives and their spirits.

"MOM!"

Adventures in the Life of a Working Mama