Life in Reverse

Hard to believe that almost three weeks of our summer vacation have sped by already! On Sunday night of this week I declared a "Stay At Home No Matter What Monday" (barring unforeseen circumstances, of course), and we did it!

It was lovely to hop in the car on Tuesday morning and realize the tires were in the same spot we left them on Sunday night.

It was not, however, lovely to realize that Lindsay's bike was in a different spot and therefore her bike seat now resembles a taco minus the lettuce and cheese.

You know, I was never going to be "that mom" who runs over her kids bikes and toys in the driveway. I mean, it can't be that difficult to check the rear view mirror or even peek behind the car before pulling out, right?

True confession time.

I have now graduated to that esteemed category. One bike seat and one scooter wheel in one week. Must be a record.

Remember library catalogs? (Yes, I am showing my age by that question!) I find it interesting to feel categorized. It is as if you could now pull out the drawer titled, "ME-MU" and find my name nestled under the heading of

"Moms Who Run Over Bikes In Driveway"

Jill Whaley 630.14 

Well, I guess we all have to be remembered for something!

Hope you all are enjoying the little moments this summer!

Simplify

Remember way back here when I was dreading the beginning of school for Lindsay and wondering what life was going to be like? Well, guess what. I survived it. Thinking back to that time reminded me of this mental list I had going on to do in "all my spare time once school starts". It read something like a housekeeper's nightmare, including entries like reorganize entire house and prepare dinner in the mornings to save afternoon time for playing with children.

Ummm... totally unrealistic.

Most of that list never materialized for obvious reasons. I can think of one time when dinner was made and in the fridge prior to 2 pm. And the house never did reorganize itself, fancy that! Somewhere over the course of winter break I realized that our "stuff" in our home truly owns a piece of us.

It was the pantry that broke the proverbial camel's back. While I grocery shop on an almost-weekly basis and fill up the empty spaces in the cupboards and fridge, there are some things that hang out in the deep recesses of the pantry and the dark corners of the freezer that beg to be eaten or thrown out. So, with recipe book in hand, I tried an experiment titled How Many Days Can We Eat Out Of The Pantry Without Grocery Shopping.  Here's a little sneak peak into our findings:

Lessons Learned From the Bottom of the Freezer

"We've been having some really yummy meals lately, Mom," Kimberly commented at dinnertime one evening last week. 

I took that as an extreme complement.  You see, I hadn't been regular grocery shopping for two weeks, and "staples" shopping for much longer than that. My list was front and back on several scraps of paper stuck on the magnet board, scribbled in a combination of pencil, marker, and glitter gel pen notations. Challenging myself to come up with healthy, tasty meals from the bottom of the freezer encouraged me to bump up out the rut of routine recipes we eat regularly, put on my creative chef hat, and work some culinary magic in the kitchen.  That magic looked like cajun chicken tacos, spinach ravioli with garlic tomato sauce, and scrambled egg and potato wraps.

An unrealized side benefit to this experiment was the sense of freedom from the overabundance of surplus food we never took time to prepare and eat. And a whole lot of extra room in the pantry, refrigerator, and freezer.

We could have gone longer (17 days was our final number), and by that time we were really missing eggs.

And cheese and butter.

And shaving cream.

Oh, wait.

That's not a food. But I didn't want to step foot in a store for fear I would cave in and pick up some splurge item like mayonnaise and all would have been for not.

Now if we had been out of toilet paper...

So all of this experimenting made me realize how many, many extras we have in our lives. Does one person really need a total of 42 shirts, sweaters, and sweatshirts? (Yes, I counted and I'm not saying who). And how can two children truly enjoy and play with 29 stuffed animals?

So, one Saturday when I was by myself I attacked my room and the playroom with reckless abandon. If you had happened by on that particular day, or the next, or the next, or today, you might have thought I was moving. You would have been wrong. But I did have an impressive number of boxes to sell, bags to donate, and a jam packed trash can to set out at the road on Friday morning.

Even after a few days of clearing out I find I still have too many "things". It's been quite a journey so far discovering just how emotionally attached I can be to stuff and how freeing it is to release some of it. I am finding room in my life for more time with my family rather than more time for washing, drying, and hanging 42 shirts.  And I'm not through yet...

Chop, Chop, Put it in the Pot

As I set six huge apples out on the table with an array of knives, peelers and cutting boards, Kimberly skipped into the kitchen and asked, "Are you making applesauce? Please, please wait to make it until I finish my violin practice!"

"Sure can." I replied. My heart was happy.

An hour later we all gathered around the table. Kimberly and I peeled while Lindsay chopped and put the pieces of apple in the pot.  Conversation flowed. I think a few more of Lindsay's chunks made it in the pot than landed in her mouth, but I wasn't keeping track. In went the lemon juice, cinnamon, salt, and water. Then onto the stove went the pot, and off to play went the girls. And to the dishes went I. With my hands up to the elbows in soap suds, I had a thankful heart; there was more in that pot than apples and cinnamon. 

There was a memory made in that pot, a time when we could share a common task that benefited everyone come dinnertime.  

There was laughter in that pot, silly jokes cracked around the table, apple slices on the floor, the kind of happiness that bubbles up inside when you are present in the moment.

There were lessons learned in that pot. How to hold a peeler, how to core an apple, how to share a cutting board, and how to work together.

There was a family tradition in that pot.  We've done this before, listening to a Boxcar Children book on tape all the while. It was a memory that prompted Kim to ask for a repeat.

There was love in that pot, a time and place where we could come together around a pot of chopped apples and let the world slide by as we enjoyed one another's company.

As we tasted the product of our labors around the dinner table, commenting on the sweetness and the chunkiness of the applesauce, I realized what an integral part of life family traditions are.  We have a few special things we do at certain times of the year, like green milk in the milk carton every April 1st, or funny face pancakes on birthday mornings, or short sheets on the bed.  Now applesauce making has joined the list, and what I love about these moments is that they are simple, harmless, and bring pure joy to my heart and the hearts of my children. That's the type of love that grounds us and pulls us together as a family. It will get us through the tough days, when all is not fun and games, but struggles and conflict. I need these moments.

Earwig

So Lindsay has been feeling a bit under the weather these last couple of days. Just a cold, which turned into a cough, which seems to be bothering her ears.  This evening she dripped from the bathtub to her jammy drawer, then came shivering to find me before bed.  

Wiggling one finger in her ear, I heard her mumble I have a wig in there. 

She looked at me uncertainly. 

What was that? I questioned, trying hard to keep my smile under control.

An earwig.

Ear wax, maybe? I prompted.

Oh yeah. Another wiggle of the finger. It's not funny.

My laughter could be contained no longer.

Much better than a wig... or an earwig for that matter.