Big, Important Conversations

By now, the whole world knows about what a Tampa Mom did to her children last Thursday. Her actions are completely unjustifiable. There is no question. Before I became a Mother, I would have thought she should be dealt with in the harshest way allowed by our laws. But now, actually wearing the hat of a Mother, I have no doubt that she is sick. No Mother could do those heinous acts to her child while in a clear mental state. It simply cannot be. My heart grieves for the entire family - and for all of the children who played with the two children who were killed. Every child is too young to know these things happen.

Amiya came into the kitchen on Saturday to snap some beans for dinner. My Mom was sitting at the table and I was working at the sink. She sat on the floor - her bean-snapping routine - with her bowls and her collander and got to it. While sitting there, she started to ask questions about what happened. She had seen and heard bits and pieces, but couldn't piece it all together and understandably so - how could she even begin to comprehend a parent hurting their own child?

So we talked and we talked and I cried a bit. How can I protect her from these things? She's seven and she doesn't need to know about them. But she does, now, so I reassured her that this Mother was sick, that her brain isn't working correctly because no Mommy who was healthy would do such a thing. I promised that even when I get angry, when I yell, that I would never, ever even think of such a thing. That when Daddy and I tell them that they're driving us crazy, we're just kidding and it doesn't mean the same thing. I explained that this is a very good example of why Mommy and Daddy don't like sleepovers - we can never know what is happening in someone else's mind or in their home. And we talked about how if she is ever feeling so sad like this Mommy must have been, that it's important to talk to someone - Mommy, Daddy, Grandma, Grandpa, a teacher, anyone. That this Mommy felt alone, but that Amiya never needs to.

And so, keeping all this in mind, let's fast forward to Sunday morning. I wanted to have my latte with the paper in peace. Sunday is the day that doesn't have three schools to rush off to, a birthday party to get moving for, etc. It should be calm. And I wanted calm - I hadn't slept well and I wanted just a bit of calm.

This is what I got:

They weren't calm. Not even a little, tiny bit. They were loud and giggly and loud and rambunctious and loud. They were pokey and, honestly, a little bit annoying with the voices they were doing.

But they were loving each other - laughing together, enjoying themselves. Why is my calm more important than their fun? Does it always have to be my way? I guess not - because by the time I sat down with them and decided to appreciate their energy instead of grumbling about it, I was giggling, too. Next year, when they're both in the same school my mornings will be calmer. I can have my latte everyday all by myself. I'm sure I'll love it for the first week and then I'll be horribly, horribly lonely. Being a Mother is hard - terribly hard and sometimes we all feel like we've bit off more than we can chew. The week's events have reminded me to step back and appreciate the good - these children shine each and every day with their innocence, their enthusiasm, their gratitude. So maybe it wasn't the calm I wanted, but it was just as refreshing.

Getting My Craft On!

Last week was an awesome week in some ways. Usually, every Monday, Wednesday and Friday I walk with girlfriends. However, none of our walking dates worked out this past week, so I had those three mornings completely available for me! I cleaned closets, I cleaned floors, I cleaned rooms. And, I crafted.

I made cute garlands for the kiddos:
Kev's garland features all sorts of animals and bright, jungle-inspired patterns. It's hanging in the playroom since he doesn't have a room of his own this year. Also because nobody plays in the playroom like Kev. It can be spotless one minute and the next there is a complete and total dinosaur infestation. Never walk barefoot in the playroom at night - the spines of a styrachosaurus can really do some damage! (I'll explain why Kev is taking a bow in a later post. It's important.)



Léna's garland is pinks and oranges - I wanted something a little Valentine-y, but she is not a pink girl at all. She loves orange, so I had to hunt for a paper that used both colors. Her two end pieces still need something - I am on the hunt for cute otter clip art, but nothing is really speaking to me.

Amiya's garland is soft pinks and yellows, with roses and polka dots. I tried to keep hers in a sort of a Victorian feel - not the polka dots so much, but I had to throw something in there to break up the cabbage roses and stuffiness. Amiya likes hers, but true to form, admonished me strongly for using a sewing machine to sew paper. Guess where she got that?

I also took the ugly, brushed-gold frame you see at right and played with it a bit. We bought this painting when we moved here to fill up a massive space on a wall. I have always liked this painting - the colors, the water, the feeling it evokes, but I hated the frame. Hated it. I'm not a gold girl, nothing in our house is gold (if I can help it) and it just didn't work for me.

I like it SO much better now. It is simpler to look at and now I notice the painting instead of the awful frame. It took all of thirty minutes - maybe I should have done this six years ago instead of disliking the frame all that time. I am thinking about setting up a spray paint studio in my garage - what's next? Entertainment center anyone?

And finally, see those milk bottles on the table? I did those, too. It was tedious, tedious work.
I had to drink four Starbucks Frappucinos to get the bottles and those aren't my favorite drink, but I persevered. Spray paint the bottles, stick a few stickers on, grab some tulips (my favorite!!! In season!!! Now!!!) and done. I like their simpleness. And I love that they were DIY.

More posts coming soon - and they'll be kid-focused. While last week was a good week in some ways, it was a hard week to be a Mom in Tampa. Big discussions about scary things. Hug your kids tight if you can, it's a crazy world.

I Am So Excited (Also, Romance Is Not Dead)

This is not a post about the kids, so stop reading Mom if that's what you were wanting.

I left Vinay a very, very subtle note hanging on our microwave tonight. I knew he was going to come home after work and make some chapathis to go with the chana I had prepared for our dinner. He couldn't possibly miss it. It read, "V, Please read the product review I left open on the laptop. I would like this for Valentine's Day. How romantic! Love, C"

And do you know what? When I brought the cherubs home from gymnastics, he had already done some research and was ready to order it. He just needed a little more information from me and then off he went to order it. It will be here before Valentine's Day and I cannot wait!

So, what is it? Any guesses?

Here it is: Pure romance. Pure love. (Do not click if you are not sure you can handle it. It's definitely not for kids and just what a couple who has been married for ten years needs to keep things running smoothly.)

That's right! It's gonna be hot, it's gonna be steamy. Does my man listen to my needs or what?

Science Fair, Take II

So someone thinks he should have been able to participate in the science fair along with his sister. Because going through the process with one wasn't fun enough?!

Our compromise: a board about dinosaurs. We've finally settled on dividing his favorite dinosaurs into the categories of theropods, sauropods and pterosaurs. The problem is that I don't know the difference between all these dinosaurs (which are not the same as pterosaurs?!?) and so I have to do a whole lot of reading to know if he's putting stuff in the right spots. I should probably just trust him - he's got every episode of Dino Dan and Dinosaur Train memorized so I'm guessing he's one Rachel shy of being the next Ross Geller.

He's not very happy with me - he wants to just attack the whole project - but I told him we need to plan. So we're post-it note happy and planning which dinosaurs go where. Here he's 'reading' up on the stegasaurus, hoping to find the name of a distant cousin to it. "Because evewybody alweady knows the stegasauwus, Mom."

It's Birthday Party Season

I love birthday parties. Love them, love them, love them. Have I mentioned I really love them?

A lot of people rant about how birthday parties are out of control - and maybe they are - but it's possible to have a fun party and not spend the GNP of a small island nation. We keep Christmas simple around here and don't drop a lot of money on presents - the kids birthdays are their special days just to celebrate them and I love all the lead up to it! The surfing for ideas, the craftiness of cute tables and activities, the excitement that the kids show when we talk about it. Why not live it up? They're only young once and celebrating a grown-up birthday just isn't the same.

This past week was all about nailing down themes - there was a super deal on invitations and I wanted to order them before the sale was done. So, a sneak peek:

I know. Kev's theme is a stunner. No one would have expected it. Dinosaurs? Huh.

He's having a dinosaur party and it's going to be loads and loads of fun. We're debating having a bounce house again this year - Kev's class culture at his school is to invite all the kids from class. That means 17 kids + Kev + his 6 playgroup friends + a few neighbors and siblings = mayhem. And even if we only invited the boys from his class, it's testosterone heavy, so we'd only shave off 4. I think a bounce house is a good idea to wear off some of that energy, no?

Amiya, on the other hand, has a guest list of about 14. Her playgroup pals, the girls from her class and a few random friends. Plus they're older, so I feel pretty confident that they can handle a longer party and her theme: Mad Scientist.

Who's flying down to help? I might need reinforcements.

She wants to do science experiments and generally create havoc. She wants a taco bar. She wants to make ice cream at the party. Excellent. The good thing is that she's now old enough to know that she helps set up for the party and she helps clean up from the party. Que fabuloso!

Amiya picked out her invitation from a site called MyGrafico. Her specific designs are from Stockberry Studios. This invitation was already made, we just had to add the text. (Whoohoo for that!) Kev's invitation graphics came from Digi Web Studio for just $1, but I had to design the invite and figure out how to layer all of the different elements. I can't wait to make all sorts of fun party things with them, but (hint, hint Vinay!) I really need to take a class at a community college on Photoshop. It's really confusing. I just know I could do some really great things if I understood the program better.

And then there's my Mom's birthday, my Dad's birthday, and my Uncle John's birthday. We'll be celebrating those three at a big Indian-themed dinner on February 18th. There isn't an invitation for that, but it is going to be fabulous!

It's the most wonderful time of the year!

Cranky

I am cranky today. And I'm being self-indulgent and whiny, so click on the X if you're not in the mood. (I wouldn't be. Go ahead. It's ok.)

The kids and Vinay have been sick for the last four days. Not just head cold sick, but confirmed cases of the flu sick. The sort that, if I catch it, would put me down and out for four days, too. The sort that makes millionaires of the folks at Lysol and Clorox and Aquaphor. The sort that makes mounds of laundry. The sort that just wears a Mom out.

Vinay is relatively easy to care for - he rolls up in a blanket and sleeps. Occasionally he asks for a cup of tea - no biggie. Sometimes I have to remind him to turn off his Nook or his laptop and go back to sleep. He offers to help with the dishes or the laundry - smart guy - knowing I'm not going to let him touch anything until he's donned a fresh hazmat suit and since we're fresh out of those, he is off scott-free.

The kids, and Amiya especially, are another matter. They are both feeling better - which is a relief after Amiya was so weak on Wednesday night that she couldn't even walk from the house to the car to go to the doctor. But they're still in that period where they should be resting - Amiya still had a fever last night. They think they're better, they certainly feel better than they have the last few days, but their little brains can't wrap around how important it is for them to continue resting. There are only so many Dinosaur Trains or Anne of Green Gables that they can watch. And so when it's time to rest, it's pretty much just an hour of me nagging them to lie back down, to quit singing, etc. UGH.

And then, mostly, there's just four days of not having had a moment to breathe. Being a stay-at-homie isn't the most physically demanding job and I'll never deny that I love being flexible and available to the kids pretty much all the time. But I also really do like the three hours in the morning when I can actually get some exercise, run errands without carseats, even make a grocery list without being interrupted seventeen times. There was nothing so pressing on my to do list this week, but there were some things that I wanted to accomplish and they just didn't happen.

On the flip side, it's the weekend. Everyone is getting better. We don't have any massive or even minor events this weekend - no birthday parties, no roller skating dates, no commitments for Vinay's work. Even more, I see people posting on Facebook daily about being broke, their parents' health, etc. We're not broke, my Dad is doing so much better, etc. Life is good. If I could just clear my brain from this Lysol-induced haze, I'd be back to my old, less-cranky, more grateful self.

Pumpkin Challah and a Mouse Named Kev

For Christmas, my parents bought me a pain de mie pan (aka a Pullman Loaf Pan) for baking bread. It is nothing short of fantastic, making perfect, perfect square loaves of bread with a tender crust and a crumb that is strong enough to not squish and ball up when sliced for sandwiches. I think I've used it three times so far - once for a traditional pain de mie, once for brioche (sigh - yum) and once, today, for a pumpkin challah.

I know challah should not be pumpkin, but I saw a recipe and it sounded good, so who can blame me? I know, too, that challah should not be forced into a square pan, but I had visions of cream cheese and pumpkin butter sandwiches for my picky (sometimes) vegetarian daughter's lunch. I had visions, too, of Wednesday night's dinner being a baked French toast with scraps of sliced challah from the kids cut-out sandwiches. Pumpkin spice, maple syrup, butter, a side of bacon. Can it be Wednesday night already? Please. So anyway, it wasn't traditional challah, but I'm going to keep calling it that because I can and I feel like it. Plus, I did braid some of it - that counts for something, right?

It rose beautifully, all three times. That was new to me, I usually only knew breads to rise twice. But it was fine - gorgeous and pillowy with each rising. It made our house smell delicious while rising and baking. I think I bake bread as much for the smell as I do to have it in the house. There is nothing better than the warm, yeasty smell of homemade bread. Nothing.

Here's where the mouse named Kev comes in. Little Man thinks he's hot stuff, snitching bits of this and a piece of that from the counter in the kitchen whenever he feels like it. Normally, I don't mind - if there's something out on the counter it's usually healthy. If it's not, he asks. I've never known him to sneak a cookie or something that he knows he shouldn't have.

Obviously, a perfectly square, perfectly beautiful loaf of pumpkin challah seems like a healthy snack to him, because he destroyed my beautiful loaf. He pinched off pieces until it looks like something a rat gnawed on.

And then he grinned at me and told me he twicked me. And then. And then. And then he saw my face and realized that I wasn't laughing this time, that it wasn't funny. We had a long talk about how when Mommy bakes something or cooks something, he isn't to eat it until he checks with me because it could be for someone else.

So now, my perfectly baked, perfectly cornered challah is destroyed. Gone forever. (Or until I bake another one.) But Little Man's tummy is sated. At least I know it's good, right?

Our Budding Paleontologist

My parents gave Kev a Smithsonian Institution Kit that helps kids excavate a dinosaur fossil. My Mom struggles with presents for Kev because she's used to Amiya - who is almost like a cocker spaniel when given knitting needles, fabric or other sewing notions. Kev is pretty much satisfied with anything animal - the trouble is he's got almost everything animal. So, when my Mom stumbled upon this kit, she was thrilled.

But not as thrilled as Kev. He opened it up and promptly stated, "This is my best Chwistmas evaw!" Not two days later he spent most of the day on my kitchen floor or Grandma's camper floor, tap, tap, tapping the little pieces of plaster away from the bones of the dinosaur. This was a seriously good present - it kept him occupied for most of the day and he now plays with the fossil every day.

He also shared a lot of the fun with his Didi. There was more than enough tapping for the two of them!

I've since bought two more and a gem excavating kit - we'll use them at his birthday party and then at home, too! Great job, Grandma!

Our Budding Scientist

So, it's science fair season and this is the first year we have had the unfortunate opportunity to participate. Amiya chose to do her experiment on which dish allows her oatmeal to cool fastest because "the children of the world burn themselves too often, Mom!" Lots of little details to think about, lots of due dates, five trials, two big things of oatmeal and a few terse words later and we were at the stage to prepare The Board.

The Board. I hate The Board. They have to look like they are done by Martha Stewart. They really do. And I don't know a single seven, eight, nine or ten year old who can do that. (Maybe Martha when she was nine, but even that seems unlikely.) It's such a fine line of how much to have the child do and how much to have the parent do. This year it was more me than Amiya, although she did the layout, picked colors, typed up info., etc. Next year it will be all Amiya. We're veterans of the Science Fair experience now, so she knows what to do and what's expected. I'll supervise from afar.

This year, she did not advance to our regional competition - only two students per grade level do. She did, however, get an honorable mention for her project. That's more than enough for her!

If you're wondering, the best dish to cool your oatmeal in a big hurry is a wide, shallow one. Amiya says, "You're welcome." She'd also like you to know that the same applies for soups and, most importantly, macaroni and cheese!