Which Old Witch?

True confession. I have a witch who comes to visit me. Not just at Halloween, although she does seem particularly wicked this October. My personal witch comes on a very regular basis. A cyclical basis, if you know what I mean.

When she's in town, my children scurry around with slightly fearful looks on their faces. My husband tries to avoid eye contact and hides in his office as much as possible. He knows that an innocent "How's it going?" may result in foot stomping, drawer slamming, eye rolling and sarcastic exclamations.

It's not me. Promise. It's just that darn ol' witch. Does she come to your house too? Then maybe you know what I'm talking about.

I'm trying to embrace this evil enchantress. I want to know what makes her tick and how I can make her visit a little less harrowing. I'm learning slowly. Here's what I've discovered so far...

Aside from the obvious (swimsuit shopping and cross-country trips with small children), there are just certain events that should NOT be planned while Ms. Witch is in town:

1. Changing a fitted sheet on the top mattress of a bunk bed.
2. Looking between the sofa cushions in the family room. Ditto for children's closets, under beds and the third seat of the minivan.
3. Making German pancakes for breakfast. I don't care if you DO have an extra dozen eggs. It is just way too much effort for the dark lady and even the teeniest of negative comments from a child or spouse will trigger a witchy cold spell guaranteed to hover over the kitchen for the remainder of the day.
4. Listening to an eight-year-old's Party of the Year CD. Particularly Track 5--Cotton-eyed Joe.
5. Helping a fifth-grader with fractions and decimals.
6. Watching a husband pack for a four-day business trip. Unless, of course, you WANT to make it easier for him to leave. In that case, invite Witchy-poo to hop right in between the two of you on the bedspread. Oh! and encourage her to bring up the checking account.

On the other hand, Ms. Witch can be helpful in the following areas:

1. Expressing displeasure on the phone to the special-ed transportation department regarding a child's bus schedule or lack thereof.
2. Making killer desserts. She has a wicked sweet tooth.
3. Doing intense housework. Sometimes heartless rage can work in your favor.
4. Writing particularly whiny blog posts. Exhibit A. Exhibit B. Exhibit C.

This post is dedicated to the people who live with me and love me even when the witchlady comes to town. I think I owe them a killer dessert.

Everything That I Am Thinking About Right This Very Minute

You know when your stomach hurts and you're just so nauseous you actually WANT to throw up? Because as soon as everything's out and not just churning inside, you'll just feel so much better?

That's how my brain feels right now.

So I'm just going to do one giant blog upchuck and share my brain nausea with the world. Hopefully having it out and not just churning inside, I'll feel much better...

1. Turning Five. Sam and Luke turn five tomorrow. And, clearly, the best way to celebrate the fifth anniversary of your emergency C-section is to invite 20 hyper four-year-olds to your house for a magic show and balloon animals. (Note to self: See if magician can possibly bring an anesthesiologist to party.)
2. But No Seriously. I am having mixed feelings about my babies turning five. How many long days and sleep-deprived nights did I think to myself, If I can only survive the first five years... And I did survive. And it was harder than I thought it would be, but better too. And now I don't have babies anymore. So who am I?
3. The Home Office. Remember how worried I was about Brad working at home? Well, I love it. Really. It is great that he can come home for dinner right when it's ready. And that I don't have to hurry home to meet the schoolbus anymore. He leaves me alone and vice versa. It is an ideal situation. 99% of the time. Unfortunately, today was the other 1%. Enough said. Love you, Babe.
4. Dressing for the Derby. I have finally decided upon a dress and even found a hat to match. Some cute spectator pumps too. Now I just need a few final accessories and a cute bag to tie it all together. Since it is work-related, Brad is unusually interested in the whole thing and actually encouraging my shopping habit. Frankly, I don't know how to handle his involvement. One question for all my fashion savvy friends--stockings: yes or no? Brad doesn't have an opinion...so I need yours.
5. And, of course, All Roads Lead to Hair. So the next question is what to do with it? You know, as soon as I put that hat on, my 'do is dead for the day. So should I try to be smooth? Or should I just carry the hat and attempt Big Hair? It is the South, after all. My stylist, Danielle, suggested that I spend the next few days experimenting. Hello? Does she think I'm in ninth grade? Danielle dear, I should have said, the only hair experiment this mother of four can handle is the one where she counts how many days she can go without shampooing before people begin to complain. (FYI: Two and one-half days. I have very fine hair and I'm a head-sweater, like my mother. Thanks, Mom!)
6. I Have Got To Go To Bed.

Thank you all for listening. I DO feel much better. I just need a couple saltines and some ginger ale.

Exhaustion...Through the Ages

When I was seven years old, exhaustion meant Wizard of Oz had been on tv the night before. And, because there were no VCRs or DVDs in those olden times, Mom had let me stay up to watch the whole thing. With popcorn. Of course, I would be exhausted after all those nightmares of flying monkeys, but Mom would tuck me into bed early the next night and I'd sleep the whole thing off.

When I was thirteen years old, exhaustion meant I had spent the night at my girlfriend's house the night before. We'd stayed up til the wee hours trying on each other's clothes, eating Skittles, calling boys we knew and hanging up, because there was no Caller ID in those olden times. My eyes would be puffy and I'd be extra-grumpy with my little brothers and sisters in the morning, but Mom would make me go to bed early and I'd just sleep the whole thing off.

When I was nineteen years old, exhaustion meant midnight movies with my roommates--and, hopefully, some cute boys-- the night before. Or it meant finals. Or pulling a late-night in the library, doing research in books, because there was no World Wide Web in those olden times. I'd, perhaps, nod off a little bit during Geography 110 and need an extra touch of under-eye concealer before my evening study group. But I'd sneak into that bathroom in the McKay building, the one with the "sickbed" in a tiny room separate from the toilets, roll up my jacket, put it under my head and sleep the whole thing off.

When I was twenty-eight years old, exhaustion meant I'd been up all night with my new baby. Rocking, singing, shushing. Feeding on demand, of course, because I had not yet read Babywise in those olden times. Or it meant staying up past bedtime folding a mountain of little white Onesies and burp cloths, because I hadn't yet learned to multi-task and I wanted to hold my precious one every minute he was awake. I'd look a little haggard in the morning, but after a long stroll pushing the Peg Perego, Baby J would be ready for a nap, so I'd tuck him in and then sleep the whole thing off.

Today I am thirty-eight and exhaustion means another late-night date with my washer and dryer, because although I can now multi-task with my eyes closed, the laundry mountains have somehow grown bigger and the days have mysteriously grown shorter. It means getting up at 5:00 am, teaching a lesson and then coming home to start the Breakfast Shift. It means my kids have half-days at school this week, which is truly worse than no school at all. It means filling out a huge pile of paperwork for kindergarten registration. Twice. My eyelids are heavy and my patience is shot. It's only 6:45 pm...do you think it's too soon to try and sleep the whole thing off?

Sitting in the Cinders

Cinderella by Sir John Everett Millais

So I spent hours yesterday at the elementary school with my paper snowflakes, helium tanks, balloon ribbons and spray snow. There were at least a dozen other mothers there, all united in a spirit of accomplishment as we transformed the spaghetti-scented cafeteria into a Winter Wonderland for our daughters and their dads.

It was a labor of love and, by the time we were finished, no one wanted to leave.

Mostly because we knew there'd be hungry kids and husbands at home. Possibly some dishes in the sink. And that, after we found the missing pink leggings and tied the ribbons around the pigtails, we'd watch the little girls go off to the ball with our Prince Charmings, while we sat looking into the ashes (or the greasy pizza boxes) with only the rats (and brothers) for company.

Anyone else out there ever feel like Cinderella? Without the glass slipper?

So much of my life is spent buying gifts for parties I will not attend. Practicing spelling words for tests I won't take. Driving to fun afterschool activities only to be left in the car.

It's a busy stage of life I'm in. My kids need (and want) my hovering presence a little bit less. But still require clothing, feeding, transportation and comfort on demand. Sometimes I feel like the unpaid event planner--scheduling the activities, gathering the needed supplies, setting up and putting away--but not actually enjoying the party.

Maybe it's just me. Or maybe I'm just due for a paradigm shift. I need to get over my Cinderella complex and realize that I'm not the princess in the story anymore.

Besides, fairy godmothers wear much more comfortable shoes.

Prediction

Someday...

When you're living miles away, I'll bet you crave it.

You'll try to treat your homesickness with some microwavable imitation,

Something found in the frozen food section, wrapped in cardboard and plastic.

Someday...

Your cute little girlfriend will try to impress you

With candles, a tablecloth, and something hot from the oven.

You'll taste it and smile and maybe even ask for seconds,

But, of course, you'll be thinking, It's just not the same as Mom's...

Someday...

When I'm dead and gone,

The one thing you'll miss most is sitting at the kitchen table.

And you'll wish for just one more home-cooked meal.

But tonight...you cried and pouted, choked and gagged.

And, later, I found three mouthfuls of homemade goodness

Spit into the bathroom sink.

********************

Luke's Lasagne

Brown 1 pound ground beef. Adding 1 tsp. minced garlic, 1 Tbsp. parsley, 1 Tbsp. basil, 2 tsp. salt, 2 cans diced tomatoes, 6 oz. tomato paste. Simmer for one hour, uncovered.

Combine 3 cups ricotta cheese, 3 eggs, 2 Tbsp. parsley, 1/4 tsp. pepper, 2/3 cup Parmesan cheese.

Grate one pound mozzarella cheese and 1/2 lb. mild cheddar cheese.

Cook 8 oz. lasagne noodles (or use oven-ready noodles).

In 9x13 inch pan, spread one-half can tomato sauce, then layer: noodles, meat, ricotta, mozarella. Repeat. Top with cheddar cheese. Cover with foil. Bake at 350 for 30 minutes. Remove foil and bake another 10 minutes. Let sit for 10 minutes before serving.

Best served with garlic toast and a crisp green salad.

(Keep Softscrub nearby...to wipe all traces from bathroom sink!)

No Offense, Norway...

"November always seemed to me the Norway of the year."- Emily Dickinson

There has to be a lull somewhere between the Halloween high and the Christmas climax. And, right now, I'm living in the lull. If October's the peak of the season, November is the bleak of the season.

Where we live, November proves to be the darkest and dreariest page on the calendar. The days are short, dark and cold. The sky is opaque and drizzly. The leaves blow away and the pumpkins turn soggy. Kids start sniffling. Everything in my closet is grey, black, brown.

Just as I had convinced myself to put on the Nikes and drag the twins to the gym this morning, the school nurse called. My fourth-grader got sick all over the schoolbus and would I come get him right away, please?

Which explains why I'm sitting in unsweaty gym clothes, listening to the Cartoon Network, tapping on my laptop and looking dejectedly out my window.

This is my 39th November. I know it won't last forever. But today it feels like it might.

More Gabservations

1. Chuck-E-Cheese is truly just a mini-casino for little kids and trying to get them out of there is worse than pulling a member of Gambler's Anonymous out of Atlantic City.
2. People who think autism is just an excuse for bad parenting should be punished. My suggestion: send 'em along on a school field-trip with a classful of autistic children. Preferably unmedicated.
3. You know you are over-the-hill if you stay up past midnight watching the PBS Documentary on Richard M. Nixon and enjoy it more than anything else on prime-time TV. (Did anyone else watch? Wasn't it fascinating!?)
4. The only way to avoid becoming witchy before Oct. 31st is to establish a family costume deadline. Costume choices must be "locked-in" by the 15th. No minds changed at the last minute. Thank you for your cooperation.
5. Watching the local team win the playoffs and head to the World Series can actually make the usually-boring baseball season a little more interesting. (Not as exciting as Nixon, of course. But close.)

Go Phils!

Day Off

Greetings, everyone. Hope you are enjoying a beautiful fall day wherever you are.

I'm not.

It is 10:35 a.m. and the kids have the day off school (Yom Kippur).

Because they are morning people (or more accurately, crack-of-dawn people), we have all been up and TOGETHER for many hours already.

Breakfast and assorted snacks have been prepared, enjoyed and somewhat tidied away. An entire blanket fort ghost town is spread across my bedroom floor. A praying mantis has been captured and set free somewhere in the dining room. Two brand-new rolls of Scotch tape have been completely consumed.

Everyone has been sent to their room at least once.

This morning, after a particularly heinous breakfast experience, I looked across the table at my husband and half-jokingly, half-breakdowningly asked, "Are you sure you don't wanna take the day off?"

"Yeah," Em piped up. "Mom gets the day off EVERY DAY!"

Oh boy. I can't wait to throw that one back at her in, say, 25 years.

That is, if I survive until bedtime.

Next Mother's Day I Better Get Something Really Good

Seriously.

There needs to be some form of compensation for the mother whose 4-year-old notices, a little too late, that his oatmeal/blueberry breakfast is kicking in and proceeds to drop trou and make a poolside deposit-- in full sight of at least 85 other people. The mother who somehow manages to scoop it all up into her own personal beach towel, while hustling the oldest to the men's room with the offender, calming her other two delightedly disgusted children and apologizing profusely to the lifeguards as they disinfect the entire pool deck. The mother who pretends not to notice the shocked looks and whispers of E.Coli and Did you see? And all this as she is sucking in her stomach, wondering if last year's Lands End suit is honestly offering enough coverage from behind.

Really.

A Hallmark card is just not going to cut it.

My Affliction

It's not so much the PMS that gets me down.

Mostly it's the P.M. Mess...

(From upper left--clockwise: Game Cupboard Explosion, Chocolate Chip Eruption, Maple Syrup Flooding--technically an AM Mess, but still not a good omen for the rest of the day, "Educational" Rice Bucket activity dumped onto patio, Em cleaning the LANDING ABOVE THE FRONT DOOR! (Who is throwing all the Webkinz across the double-story entry hall anyway?), One-Eighteenth of my Weekly Laundry Love, Self-serve snack bar & Random Basement Shots.)

Anyone else suffering? What's your treatment plan?

Things For Which I Choose Not to be Responsible

Barbie shoes


People shoes--left under the trampoline during a rainstorm


Library books


DVDs/CDs/Computer disks which get scratched within 15 seconds of unwrapping


Money left by the tooth fairy


Dollar store purchases which prove defective the minute they are removed from dollar store premises


Anything that comes home in a party "goody bag"


The microscopic light saber that came with the Lego Darth Vader
Items that need batteries or recharging


Loose change and half-eaten lollipops


Puzzle pieces
Crayola marker caps
Did I forget anything?

Ding! Dong! This Witch Is Dead...

I am so sick of being the Wicked Witch of the East. The Munchkins have been plotting against me and the weight of this whole house is really getting me down. Thank goodness the Wizard flies in tonight...

I'm ready to head somewhere over the rainbow.

Multiple Choice

Read the following story problem, choose the best solution.

You are alone with your four children while your husband travels on a 9-day business trip. The day he leaves: the washing machine begins making a strange clinking noise, the maintenance light in your car starts blinking, child #3 suddenly has a cough and runny nose, strong spring storms are in the five-day forecast, and your gastroenterologist recommends you not consume chocolate or carbonation for six weeks (!) as you recover from minor throat-stretching surgery.

Which is most likely to occur?

a. Soap suds all over the laundry room floor.
b. An exciting date with both the pediatrician and the car dealership service department.
c. Flooding in the basement.
d. A late-night run to the 7-11 for large quantities of chocolate and carbonation.
e. All of the above.

Where Maple Syrup is a Controlled Substance

7:00 a.m. at the asylum. The patients are awake. Some are in need of medication. Some have soaked their sheets during the night. There is some screaming, some crying and a whole lot of nudity. Caretakers rush from room to room--finding, fixing, wiping, and prodding--then hurry to the kitchen to start breakfast before patients with low-blood sugar become unruly...

Welcome to my life.

Morning smells like oatmeal, hard-boiled eggs and maple syrup. ("Mom, he's dumping the whole bottle on his waffle!" " But I need to fill every square!")

Morning feels like cold tile, sticky kisses and sore muscles.

Morning looks like uncombed hair, sleepy eyes, and spilled milk. (Every single morning.)

Morning tastes like Kashi Go-Lean, maple syrup and Flintstones chewables.

Morning sounds like two toddler tantrums, the school bus honking and whining. (Mom, I don't feel very good....)

Morning seems like an endless marathon, a 50-yard dash and a blind-folded obstacle course all rolled into one.

Any advice?

Fresh Produce

Is there anything worse than hustling & bustling your four kids through morning chores, bundling up to face sub-zero temperatures, driving in busy 3-day-weekend traffic, navigating through a dangerous parking lot and standing in line to see a bunch of singing vegetables?

Yes. Hustling and bustling your four kids through morning chores, bundling up to face sub-zero temperatures, driving in busy 3-day-weekend traffic, navigating through a dangerous parking lot and standing in line to see a bunch of singing vegetables...only to be told:

We're all SOLD OUT!

Bummer...guess I wasn't the only one with this idea today.

Sweet Revenge

There's nothing like a trip to the pediatric dentist to make me feel like the worst mother in the world. My kids' teeth are rotting away and it is all my fault. I give them too many sweets and their oral hygiene is poor.

My beautiful daughter has already had two root canals and a crown. She is six! Amazingly, she is my best brusher, flosser and she uses Listerine. She doesn't even eat much candy. I think her enamel is just weak...but somehow this is my fault, too. At this point, I am wondering if we should even bother with dental care. Why not skip the fillings and braces and go straight to dentures?

Today the dentist scolded me and gave me a 15 minute demonstration on brushing and flossing the 80 little choppers under my care. Apparently, I should let them all lay on my bed, with their heads in my lap, as I delicately massage each tooth 5 times individually (front and back), not forgetting biting surfaces and the tongue...gag!

I should be performing this service morning and night for each child until s/he reaches the age of ten, not forgetting the importance of flossing and fluoride.

Is anyone out there really doing this? Do your kids fight you on it? Or do they take it "lying down"?

I am feeling like a rabid-anti-Dentite right now. Sorry to all you dentists and dentists' families out there. I know there is such a thing as a nice and non-judgemental dentist. I have heard of them. But, unfortunately, none seem to take my insurance.

And now that I have that all off my chest, I am going to get back to my original post idea, which was....the recipe for my English Christmas Toffee. Make a big batch for your dentist's office! They'll love ya...

Anti-Dentite Toffee

Mix 1/2 cup water, 2 1/2 cups sugar, 1/2 cup light Karo syrup, one pound butter and 2 cups slivered almonds in heavy saucepan. Cook over HIGH heat, stirring constantly until mixture gets "smoky" and almonds turn dark brown color. (Hard crack candy stage) Pour into a jelly-roll pan which has been lined with foil and buttered. Spread immediately with 10 oz. chocolate chips (milk or semi-sweet) and sprinkle with 1 cup chopped walnuts. Cool and break into bite-sized pieces.

**Coming next week: The recipe for my homemade caramels...if they don't pull your fillings out, you get your money back!

I Hate When That Happens

Don't you hate it when your perfect day runs away from you?

You wake up with energy and excitement and a schedule full of activities. You put on your gym clothes and skip the shower...excited to work out while your little ones are in their gymnastics class. You get the big kids off to school and clean up the morning mess.

Then you take a look at your fourth child--who looks sicker and sicker by the minute and realize you must call the pediatrician about the strange rash and dark circles around his eye.

Of course, they don't answer the phone the first few times you call, then they put you on hold for 15 minutes and when you finally speak to someone--they don't have an appointment until tomorrow. So you take the appointment and decide to wait it out. Thirty minutes later you start getting that desperate mommy feeling, call them back and BEG them to see you. She says OK drop everything and come right now.

So you put on some clothes, swipe on some lipstick, do the ponytail and head out the door. You wave a fond goodbye to the shower and know you will feel slimy all day long.

Turns out, the doctor is not too worried about the face rash (excema)...but is alarmed by the circular rash on his leg and sends you to the blood lab to test for Lyme Disease.

You hold your little guy tightly as they tie the rubber tube around his arm. He makes it through without a wimper, but you are ready to burst into tears.

After tucking the twins in for a nap, you head down to the computer to Google Lyme Disease. You spend 30 horrifying minutes looking at all the worst-case-scenarios and imagining all of them happening to you. Right now.

As you are engrossed with the folks on CDC.com, the phone rings. It is your oldest son's special ed teacher, calling to say that he may/may not have punched a girl in the stomach. The two of you discuss the possibilities, causes and consequences. It ends on a positive note, until you walk into the kitchen to find this...

and this...

and this.

After 45 minutes of time-outs, clean-ups and melt-downs...you go upstairs to find this in your master bathroom...

and this in your children's bathroom...

If each of these small tragedies happened on separate days, you might have been able to laugh and even write a humorous post on your blog for posterity.

But not today. And, as you look at the calendar and realize:

1. In the next 11 days, your children have a total of 2 full days and 3 half-days of school.
2. Your husband will be out of town for 5 of those days.
3. There are only 38 shopping days left til Christmas.

...you do the only thing you can possibly do--call your mother, burst into tears and beg her to fly cross-country to help you.

And, because she is the wonderful person that she is, she drops everything and agrees graciously to come. And, because your husband is equally wonderful, he goes directly to Delta.com and books the flight.

So, although the perfect day got away...it has a (sort of) happy ending.

And, in the meantime, I would love to hear from anyone who knows anything about: Lyme disease, wall repair and getting Nestle Quik out of carpet.

Overheard

"I used to wonder why all the mommy bloggers had so many posts about poop. Now I understand..." Auntie Min, after dealing with one "Underwear-Blowout" and one "Didn't-Make-it-To-the-Bathroom-Carpet-Drop" within 15 minutes.

"Mom, why is there a cat running around in our house?" Kid #1, after leaving all four outside doors wide open. Following this question, he grabbed a broom and a bowl of cold chicken, and chased the stray into the backyard while also trying to tame her for a pet.

"I want my hands dirty!" Kid #3, throwing a hysterical fit because I had washed his hands for him. He wanted to do it himseff. In a hysterical fit of my own, I grabbed a handful of leftover chocolate cake and rubbed it all over him so he could practice the independence he so desperately craves.

"Mom, can I have a Tums? This dinner makes my tummy hurt." Kid #2, always a pleasure to feed.

"Mac and cheese! Mac and cheese! MAC AND CHEESE!" Kid #4, enthusiastically demanding his dinner choice, after realizing it wasn't on the menu.

"Yeah, I'm really getting sick of restaurant food. I'm so tired of sitting around for all these long meals." Husband, long-distance from LA. It was hard to hear most of his side of the conversation...due to all the broom-swinging, cat-chasing, tantrum-throwing and food-dissing going down on the homefront. Hopefully, I managed to sound sympathetic. Restaurant food and sitting down for meals does sound really tedious.