A few weeks ago, a very nice lady asked me to be a member of a supper club. This supper club is like a cookie exchange. You make six identical meals, show up and get six different meals.
At first, I was hesitant. I called my BFF and told her that I loved the idea but I was fearful. My fear? How could anyone be afraid of such a great concept? Harmless and so helpful to any mother of active children; supper club is a fabulous idea. I was fearful that the other members of the club, whom I did not know, were horrible housekeepers and they would be cooking in dirty kitchens. There, I said it and I let it out. Yep, my fear, moms cooking in dirty kitchens.
Years ago when my brother and I were little, we went to my mom's friend's house. She sat us down at the table and asked us if we wanted pie. My brother answered, "no". The lady said, "No pie? I have never known a child to refuse pie? Why don't you want pie?"
"Because your house it dirty."
My mother was the color of those cherries in the pie. I will NEVER forget it. Never.
Well, I thought about my nice friend who asked me to join the club. Her house is clean. Typically, "birds of a feather flock together." If her house was clean, I bet the others would be clean too.
So, I joined.
I got the first assignment. I learned that all of the members had small kids. So, I chose to make chicken noodle soup. Oh, the excitement.
I cut the parsley from my own yard, bought organic chickens, thyme, carrots and onions and off I went to the kitchen.
You have no idea what size pot you need to make chicken noodle soup for six families. The pot was huge.
I made my soup Thursday night and had my other neighbor (who has a very clean house and is a great cook) taste it. She said it was awesome.
I left the soup on low all night, turned it off Friday am and left it on the stove to cool so I could package it later.
When I came home with the kids in the afternoon, the three of us were sooooo happy. Friday afternoon, the weekend, Yay!.
As we approached the front porch, the WORST smell in the world was coming out of my house. Seriously, if this was a Disney movie, there would be Ursula like women dancing on my porch, chanting, "your house it stinks, It really, really, really stinks!" We walked in. Seriously, I was gagging. I thought maybe Ruthie (the cat) had brought home a dead animal and brought it inside. The three of us began searching the house for the culprit. It was a horrendous stench. And then, we found it. The stench came from the kitchen, in the soup pot.
That's right. It was the soup. RANCID. The soup was spoiled. The pot was enormous and it was filled to the very top with rancid chicken noodle soup. Oh, and I forgot to mention, it was only about forty five minutes to showtime when I was supposed to go deliver the soup to the ladies in the club (that I had NEVER met before).
I have been a boss, a vice president, employed for years, a mother of three, fifty years old and I panicked. I did not know what to do. I called my friend who tasted the soup, asked her what to do and then I did something that shocked me about myself. I called the "leader" of the supper club and said, "can you come down here?" How stupid was that? She was about to have six ladies show up at her house, she had meals to do and she has three small children. Was she supposed to wiggle her nose and make the situation better?
I took the pot, carried it outside, GAGGING all the way and dumped it in the burn pile. Second dumb move because now the stench could roam freely. The stench roamed all over the neighborhood.
I washed my hands, for about 25 minutes and went to the supper exchange. SO, I meet five woman for the first time at a supper exchange and I have no suppers to give because my soup was rancid. Oh, and did I mention that I was afraid that maybe they were making meals, that were not rancid, in a less than 100 sanitation graded kitchen? What a LOUSY first impression. And worse than all of that, I handled it poorly because I was just so out of sorts.
The "button" told me that he is embarrassed, feels like he handled the situation so poorly and that people he has never met, but will meet some day, will judge him. I couldn't help but think of him while I stood in her kitchen with those other woman because I felt so humiliated and akward.
At least he never made rancid chicken noodle soup for a supper exchange.
P.S. It was the pot, we had cooked clams in it and I didn't know that when I made the soup.
the story of kids,chaos, mothering challenges and sometimes chocolate
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Thursday, September 8, 2011
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: Really, what IS normal?
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: Really, what IS normal?: The "button" has told me repeatedly that he cannot wait to be "normal." I just said to Franklin that "I too, want to be normal". But rea...
Really, what IS normal?
The "button" has told me repeatedly that he cannot wait to be "normal." I just said to Franklin that "I too, want to be normal".
But really, what is normal?
When I was growing up we were "normal". Mom stayed at home. Dad worked. Sheet day was Monday and my mom didn't cook on Friday. On Sunday morning we watched cartoons. If we made it to Hercules then we were not going to church. If mom came downstairs in her nightgown and slid a pork roast in the oven, we were going to church. We came home, ate pork and sauerkraut, watched the Steelers, washed our hair in the sink, ate leftovers and the week began.
We were normal too, I thought. Sheet day here is Thursday. I don't cook on Fridays. I always have Sunday dinner. So much of my childhood is repeated here, including the Christmas gifts are purchased by Halloween and wrapped by Thanksgiving and dusted on Christmas Eve. Then things changed. Me not working changed the routine here and things began to feel "a little off". Then, there was the "button."
I want to get back to feeling normal. I want a routine. I want a nine to five job with benefits. Love my bitches, bleach and bras but I want to be "normal" again.. You know, the kind where you get up, worry about what you are going to wear, dart out the door, worry about what you are going to fix for dinner, how you are going to get kid A to point "b" will kid B needs to get to point "a", get homework done, do laundry, help with homework, chat with husband, do dinner, clean up dinner, read a little and go to sleep and start all over again. Yeah, I know. Crazy.
The "button" says, "I just want to be normal". Hmm, he has a two parent household, home, car...the normal stuff. Normal didn't work for him. Now normal will most likely be probation, junior college and we go from there. Honestly, this is fine. And, close to normal as normal can be.
Normal is really over rated I think. After I grew up and after years of Monday sheet day, my parents divorced. My mom married a man younger than my first husband, who was the same age as my mom. My dad married a girl younger than my younger brother. My younger brother married a girl older than me. And, we thought we were "normal".
Carry on, "normal" folks.
But really, what is normal?
When I was growing up we were "normal". Mom stayed at home. Dad worked. Sheet day was Monday and my mom didn't cook on Friday. On Sunday morning we watched cartoons. If we made it to Hercules then we were not going to church. If mom came downstairs in her nightgown and slid a pork roast in the oven, we were going to church. We came home, ate pork and sauerkraut, watched the Steelers, washed our hair in the sink, ate leftovers and the week began.
We were normal too, I thought. Sheet day here is Thursday. I don't cook on Fridays. I always have Sunday dinner. So much of my childhood is repeated here, including the Christmas gifts are purchased by Halloween and wrapped by Thanksgiving and dusted on Christmas Eve. Then things changed. Me not working changed the routine here and things began to feel "a little off". Then, there was the "button."
I want to get back to feeling normal. I want a routine. I want a nine to five job with benefits. Love my bitches, bleach and bras but I want to be "normal" again.. You know, the kind where you get up, worry about what you are going to wear, dart out the door, worry about what you are going to fix for dinner, how you are going to get kid A to point "b" will kid B needs to get to point "a", get homework done, do laundry, help with homework, chat with husband, do dinner, clean up dinner, read a little and go to sleep and start all over again. Yeah, I know. Crazy.
The "button" says, "I just want to be normal". Hmm, he has a two parent household, home, car...the normal stuff. Normal didn't work for him. Now normal will most likely be probation, junior college and we go from there. Honestly, this is fine. And, close to normal as normal can be.
Normal is really over rated I think. After I grew up and after years of Monday sheet day, my parents divorced. My mom married a man younger than my first husband, who was the same age as my mom. My dad married a girl younger than my younger brother. My younger brother married a girl older than me. And, we thought we were "normal".
Carry on, "normal" folks.
Monday, September 5, 2011
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: sanitation ratings and grades from the Land of Oz
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: sanitation ratings and grades from the Land of Oz: So, we went to visit the Land of Oz. Before I proceed, I must explain that North Carolina, sanitation ratings for ANY establishment that s...
sanitation ratings and grades from the Land of Oz
So, we went to visit the Land of Oz.
Before I proceed, I must explain that North Carolina, sanitation ratings for ANY establishment that serves foods, must be posted in plain view inside the establishment. These ratings are also listed in the local newspapers. The ratings system is the out of 100 points, 100 being the best. My family, we are "sanitation ratings snobs". You must understand this before you read on.
We arrived late Saturday night and stayed at a "Super Eight". We hated the Super Eight but it was ONE exit down from the Land Of Oz and it was easy and affordable.
The goal was to pick up "the button" at eight, and keep him out till ten pm. After ten pm, the button would turn into a pumpkin.
Franklin tried to sneak out of the Super Eight by seven am but the little people heard him and were up and threw on their clothes and out the door they went...in plenty of time to be on time. Around "eightish" the "button" calls and his dates were not there yet.
Ugh, they were lost. Apparently Franklin wasn't following the donkeys going up the side of the mountain with the supplies.
The "button" was retrieved and dropped off at the Super Eight for the BIG day.
After some hellos and catch up, we departed the Super Eight. Walker stated as we left the parking lot of the Super Eight, "bet their sanitation rating here is about a 6".
The "button" wanted to take us to the third most expensively built MacDonald's. It was cool, piano players, chandeliers, platinum ceiling tiles, the works all complimented with Egg Mac Muffins.
Off we were to show the "button" where he was born and the home where he lived as a young boy.
Then, White Water Rafting. Awesome. Great time was had by all...great time.
Mello Mushroom, (Sanitation Rating 96) pizza and wings. For dessert, a walk around Asheville for the "Arts Fundraiser Festival". The best people watching ever.
A trip to Kmart for supplies and then to the Dairy Queen (because we hadn't consumed enough calories for the day) for ice cream.
It was there at the Dairy Queen that the magic happened. We order (and NO I didn't get my standard chocolate cone dipped in chocolate.) and I got a strawberry something (would have been better with chocolate in it) and Walker says, "Mom, "button" look...it happened". There it was 100.5!!!!!!!!
We finally found an establishment with a sanitation rating BETTER than 100 and there it was at the Dairy Queen! The three of us were soooo happy because this has been a quest.
Okay, yes, I have boys looking at sanitation ratings and I wonder why one is in therapy. Hello, OCD! We celebrate cleanliness! Seriously, do you know how much strawberry ice cream tastes when you know the 100.5 sanitation rating? It was Awesome and we did it together.
But, the visit was over after that find and we knew it in our hearts. We ate and departed. It was so important to ALL of us that he was back ahead of schedule so there would be another day.
And then, the unthinkable happened. Franklin, who lived there for years, was busy talking and he missed the exit. Not a big deal in normal interstate driving but, this was at the exit was at the bottom of the mountain and now we had to go all the way up and down, and then up and down again with only a few minutes of cushion to spare.
Seriously, I thought we were all going to meltdown but nobody wanted to be the one to ruin the fabulous day. So, nobody did. This was HUGE for us. Honestly, my money was on me first and Addie second but it did not happen.
We made it back on time, close, but on time.
The looks we got from other people there. You could hear the mumbling "Button, are those your folks" Is that your mom?" I guess all the stories that were told these people expected Roseanne Barr with a enormous dragon mask on the head with Charlie Manson as her husband.
We saw his room and the bathroom and met a view folks and we walked to the car. I will be honest, when he took us to his room, I didn't pay attention. I wanted out of there. This was my son and he was supposed to be in "his" room at "our" house and not here. I bolted before the bathroom tour. Remember, I am now cleaning bathrooms for a living and I was sure that would push me over the edge.
It was there that it happened, I fell apart. I held on to that damn kid of mine like I was never going to see him again...and I lost it. I am not sure why. But, I lost it. For months he was sooooo desperate to be "on his own" and "away from us" and now he was here, on the side of a mountain with a punch of pygmies pulling supplies up the mountain for people to say, "hey, my name is ...and I live here." He should have been in college or in Europe ANYWHERE but here and we shouldn't be leaving without him. I guess this is what a new mother feels like when she has a baby and doesn't leave the hospital with that baby.
We got in the car and left. Walker says, "bet the sanition rating there is NOT very good". Talk about comediac releif. I laughed so hard I peed a little in my pants.
Report card for the weekend is as follows....
ability to get along with others 100
asks great questions (like what is going to happen when I get home) 100
appreciative 100
came to free day prepared and happy to be there 100
ate well 100
showed remorse for previous actions 100
is eager to move on to the next level 100
As we drove home today, Franklin and Addie were napping in the backseat and my little shotgun buddy Walker,reached over, squeezed my hand and said, "thank you mom for a great vacation with the "button". It was 100.5 on the vacation scale."
He was so right.
Before I proceed, I must explain that North Carolina, sanitation ratings for ANY establishment that serves foods, must be posted in plain view inside the establishment. These ratings are also listed in the local newspapers. The ratings system is the out of 100 points, 100 being the best. My family, we are "sanitation ratings snobs". You must understand this before you read on.
We arrived late Saturday night and stayed at a "Super Eight". We hated the Super Eight but it was ONE exit down from the Land Of Oz and it was easy and affordable.
The goal was to pick up "the button" at eight, and keep him out till ten pm. After ten pm, the button would turn into a pumpkin.
Franklin tried to sneak out of the Super Eight by seven am but the little people heard him and were up and threw on their clothes and out the door they went...in plenty of time to be on time. Around "eightish" the "button" calls and his dates were not there yet.
Ugh, they were lost. Apparently Franklin wasn't following the donkeys going up the side of the mountain with the supplies.
The "button" was retrieved and dropped off at the Super Eight for the BIG day.
After some hellos and catch up, we departed the Super Eight. Walker stated as we left the parking lot of the Super Eight, "bet their sanitation rating here is about a 6".
The "button" wanted to take us to the third most expensively built MacDonald's. It was cool, piano players, chandeliers, platinum ceiling tiles, the works all complimented with Egg Mac Muffins.
Off we were to show the "button" where he was born and the home where he lived as a young boy.
Mello Mushroom, (Sanitation Rating 96) pizza and wings. For dessert, a walk around Asheville for the "Arts Fundraiser Festival". The best people watching ever.
A trip to Kmart for supplies and then to the Dairy Queen (because we hadn't consumed enough calories for the day) for ice cream.
It was there at the Dairy Queen that the magic happened. We order (and NO I didn't get my standard chocolate cone dipped in chocolate.) and I got a strawberry something (would have been better with chocolate in it) and Walker says, "Mom, "button" look...it happened". There it was 100.5!!!!!!!!
We finally found an establishment with a sanitation rating BETTER than 100 and there it was at the Dairy Queen! The three of us were soooo happy because this has been a quest.
Okay, yes, I have boys looking at sanitation ratings and I wonder why one is in therapy. Hello, OCD! We celebrate cleanliness! Seriously, do you know how much strawberry ice cream tastes when you know the 100.5 sanitation rating? It was Awesome and we did it together.
But, the visit was over after that find and we knew it in our hearts. We ate and departed. It was so important to ALL of us that he was back ahead of schedule so there would be another day.
And then, the unthinkable happened. Franklin, who lived there for years, was busy talking and he missed the exit. Not a big deal in normal interstate driving but, this was at the exit was at the bottom of the mountain and now we had to go all the way up and down, and then up and down again with only a few minutes of cushion to spare.
Seriously, I thought we were all going to meltdown but nobody wanted to be the one to ruin the fabulous day. So, nobody did. This was HUGE for us. Honestly, my money was on me first and Addie second but it did not happen.
We made it back on time, close, but on time.
The looks we got from other people there. You could hear the mumbling "Button, are those your folks" Is that your mom?" I guess all the stories that were told these people expected Roseanne Barr with a enormous dragon mask on the head with Charlie Manson as her husband.
We saw his room and the bathroom and met a view folks and we walked to the car. I will be honest, when he took us to his room, I didn't pay attention. I wanted out of there. This was my son and he was supposed to be in "his" room at "our" house and not here. I bolted before the bathroom tour. Remember, I am now cleaning bathrooms for a living and I was sure that would push me over the edge.
It was there that it happened, I fell apart. I held on to that damn kid of mine like I was never going to see him again...and I lost it. I am not sure why. But, I lost it. For months he was sooooo desperate to be "on his own" and "away from us" and now he was here, on the side of a mountain with a punch of pygmies pulling supplies up the mountain for people to say, "hey, my name is ...and I live here." He should have been in college or in Europe ANYWHERE but here and we shouldn't be leaving without him. I guess this is what a new mother feels like when she has a baby and doesn't leave the hospital with that baby.
We got in the car and left. Walker says, "bet the sanition rating there is NOT very good". Talk about comediac releif. I laughed so hard I peed a little in my pants.
Report card for the weekend is as follows....
ability to get along with others 100
asks great questions (like what is going to happen when I get home) 100
appreciative 100
came to free day prepared and happy to be there 100
ate well 100
showed remorse for previous actions 100
is eager to move on to the next level 100
As we drove home today, Franklin and Addie were napping in the backseat and my little shotgun buddy Walker,reached over, squeezed my hand and said, "thank you mom for a great vacation with the "button". It was 100.5 on the vacation scale."
He was so right.
Friday, September 2, 2011
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: Easter Bunny goes to the Land of Oz
it wasn't supposed to be this way, but...: Easter Bunny goes to the Land of Oz: If there is one thing that I have learned in life, my expectations are usually not the same as others. This is especially true with my kids...
Easter Bunny goes to the Land of Oz
If there is one thing that I have learned in life, my expectations are usually not the same as others. This is especially true with my kids.
When I was a kid, my Easter basket was a work of art. Eggs with the little hole that you could look into and see a little Easter village, a SOLID chocolate bunny with your name written on it, handmade white and milk chocolate lollipops, jelly beans and homemade peanut butter eggs. And, two 45's...you know, Afternoon Delight/Starland Vocal Band, Love Train/Ojays and Sing/Carpenters. I loved my Easter Basket every Easter morning. I had the best Easter Bunny. Gene and Boots Candies were the best.
Three years ago, I found a candy store in Richmond, Virginia that makes the exact pieces that were in my childhood baskets. I called and placed my order for my three kids. Oh, I was SO excited for them to have the same lovely and delicious Easter basket...free of commercialism, wrappers and kid crap.
They went to bed and the Easter bunny worked her magic. Loved the baskets. Oh, the little eggs piped in icing and the scenes inside the eggs were lovely. Delicious spiced jelly beans. And, the solid bunnies with blue and pink icing spelling out their names and personalizing those baskets.
And, guess what happened, "mom, where are the Skittles and the Sour patch kids?" "Mom, you cannot even eat that egg with the hole in it". "Mom, no Reese's peanut butter eggs?"
My heart was dashed. I did eat the home made peanut butter eggs out of their baskets just for spite and because I could. I wasn't abstaining from chocolate then.
I guess I couldn't expect my kids to dance with merriment over the baskets when it wasn't what they were used to. They didn't know better. They wanted what they were used to.
We are leaving to visit the "button" tomorrow.
We will spend all day Sunday with him.
This will be like Easter Morning all over again. I cannot expect them to dance with merriment when this isn't what they are used to. It will be the first time since May 16, that all five of us spend time together, as a family. A significant amount of "stuff" has happened to us since then. A whole summer has come and gone.
I do have some expectations about this trip. I expect to have one argument with Franklin over his driving and looking in the center glove box for "something". I expect Walker and Addie to ask 45000000 times, "when are we going to be there?. I expect my three kids to clean out the free breakfast buffet while other patrons just stare at the amount of food they can consume while being super mannerly and gracious. I expect to be nervous Sunday morning when we go to get the "button". I expect some awkward moments.
I expect to be happy to see all three of my kids together.
That is it, that is what I expect. And then, when we return home, when the Walker and Addie fall asleep, I expect that my husband and I will discuss and relive and dissect every moment of the visit.
What I REALLY want, is the Easter Egg with the lovely little scene in it. That lovely scene will be the five of us. I can sooo see it through the hole...really, I see it. I am not going to expect it. I am just going to HOPE for it.
After returning home, I expect that I will have about four loads of vacation laundry to do.
When I was a kid, my Easter basket was a work of art. Eggs with the little hole that you could look into and see a little Easter village, a SOLID chocolate bunny with your name written on it, handmade white and milk chocolate lollipops, jelly beans and homemade peanut butter eggs. And, two 45's...you know, Afternoon Delight/Starland Vocal Band, Love Train/Ojays and Sing/Carpenters. I loved my Easter Basket every Easter morning. I had the best Easter Bunny. Gene and Boots Candies were the best.
Three years ago, I found a candy store in Richmond, Virginia that makes the exact pieces that were in my childhood baskets. I called and placed my order for my three kids. Oh, I was SO excited for them to have the same lovely and delicious Easter basket...free of commercialism, wrappers and kid crap.
They went to bed and the Easter bunny worked her magic. Loved the baskets. Oh, the little eggs piped in icing and the scenes inside the eggs were lovely. Delicious spiced jelly beans. And, the solid bunnies with blue and pink icing spelling out their names and personalizing those baskets.
And, guess what happened, "mom, where are the Skittles and the Sour patch kids?" "Mom, you cannot even eat that egg with the hole in it". "Mom, no Reese's peanut butter eggs?"
My heart was dashed. I did eat the home made peanut butter eggs out of their baskets just for spite and because I could. I wasn't abstaining from chocolate then.
I guess I couldn't expect my kids to dance with merriment over the baskets when it wasn't what they were used to. They didn't know better. They wanted what they were used to.
We are leaving to visit the "button" tomorrow.
We will spend all day Sunday with him.
This will be like Easter Morning all over again. I cannot expect them to dance with merriment when this isn't what they are used to. It will be the first time since May 16, that all five of us spend time together, as a family. A significant amount of "stuff" has happened to us since then. A whole summer has come and gone.
I do have some expectations about this trip. I expect to have one argument with Franklin over his driving and looking in the center glove box for "something". I expect Walker and Addie to ask 45000000 times, "when are we going to be there?. I expect my three kids to clean out the free breakfast buffet while other patrons just stare at the amount of food they can consume while being super mannerly and gracious. I expect to be nervous Sunday morning when we go to get the "button". I expect some awkward moments.
I expect to be happy to see all three of my kids together.
That is it, that is what I expect. And then, when we return home, when the Walker and Addie fall asleep, I expect that my husband and I will discuss and relive and dissect every moment of the visit.
What I REALLY want, is the Easter Egg with the lovely little scene in it. That lovely scene will be the five of us. I can sooo see it through the hole...really, I see it. I am not going to expect it. I am just going to HOPE for it.
After returning home, I expect that I will have about four loads of vacation laundry to do.
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