Good Intentions

Intentions are important right? And having fun? Doing something for pleasure and not performance?

When I set out to make my very first batch of “Back to School Cookies” yesterday morning….I had all these things in mind.  I really wanted to make it special and make them from scratch, and try to be as good as a Mom of one of the blogs I read. She has her kids come home from school the first day and sit down and talk about school with the cookies baking in the oven, with a cold glass of milk.

Great idea! Love it!  How sweet of a tradition is that? I should copy it. Today.Immediately.

So Beauty and I baked up a batch for the boys and another one for her first day of school tomorrow. I goggled “Best Chocolate Chip Cookies Ever” and got a lot of hits and reviews. I carefully selected one…

 We turned up the music and got too it-dancing around and laughing. I thought in my head “This is fun-I should do this more often-look what I haved missed all these years by not baking back to school cookies!”

I should have known something was wrong when it called for 3 cups of flour and the creamy batter was quickly destroyed and looked like a bowl of creampuffs..or when the batter was so floury it was impossible to mix. Is there a big difference between baking soda and powder?

Anyways by the time I put them in the oven I was seriously worried but did not want to ruin this special time for my daughter.

In they go and after 10 minutes nothing seems to be cooking at all. Oven issues? Maybe they meant 20 minutes and not 10? Anyways it took 30 minutes to cook those large flower filled cookies…at which time the bottom burnt and they were hard as rocks. A lot of smoke also seeped through the stove and almost set of the smoke alarm. Is that normal?

When Bear got home minutes before I arrived he texted me “Had a great day at school! PS-why are the cookies burnt and hard?I love you mom though!”

So I stopped at Subways and picked up a dozen perfectly cooked ones and we still had our cookies and milk and laughed all together at my ones.

I left one for Hubby so he could see them and get a good laugh too and threw the other 40 out. He was rather sad as he said he likes burnt hard cookies ands that the middle tasted delicious. What a keeperJ

So I wasn’t too hard on myself on this one because the intention was there and we had fun. I was glad at least I wanted to bake something homemade and that I went for it despite my obvious lack of domestic skills (although usually I am a decent baker for the record!!!)

Next year…I am doing a practice run prior. Or Pillsbury.

Wow....

So many emotions go through me as I send my two boys off to high school and one for the first time.

I will post much more fully when Beauty starts on Wednesday, but sufficed to say that as easier I think it gets year after year to see them off, and know a new life is beginning for them, a a great future lies ahead…..it also gets so much harder.

I stood there today snapping pictures of my middle child all dressed up in the “uniforme official “ of the school, the tie, the grey pinstriped trousers, and the polished shoes. The short cropped hair and the immaculate white ironed shirt with the plaid vest…and I cried behind my camera.

You would think you would get used to this-but you never really do.

One more millstone, one more hurdle in the future of never knowing.

One more battle won; one more plan materialized to get this child the best education and sports program possible that he was so deserving of in every single way despite his emergency surgery on the important sports exam date.

One more child who won’t depend on you for their decisions in the way they always used to. They will hear you, but they may not listen.

One more child..out there today starting the life that was meant to be his. His way.

 It’s time to go now and just sit back and reflect for a few minutes on all the beauty that lies ahead and all the new moments just like this one. With a few tears and a nice little smoothie.

The Moment you Know

For many years I have wondered…how do you know..how do you really know when your pre-teen becomes a real teen??

I know now.

There were many signs, the rolling of the eyes, the attitudy back talk, the “Moooooooooom"-everytime I ask him to get off the computer or do a chore. The signs were always there but did not give me the proof I really needed that this had truly begun. I have a 12.5 yr old so I know the difference…..it’s not the real thing yet.

Then there were the more dramatic recent “hints”. The little pimples, the more square shoulders, the 4 inch growth spurt, the longer and more frequent showers and the “in my face here I am” exhibition of certain teenage signs.

But the real time came; the moment came….this summer..a couple of weeks a go in our kitchen.

When Chase had been out hanging around in the village near us with his friend or friends like he has been doing in the last months almost daily and nightly….and then he came home at 11pm which is already weird in itself.

And he started making pasta in the kitchen at midnight.

And we were tired and decided to go to bed before him.

And he stayed up and still made the pasta

And it never occurred to  us remind him “to make sure the stove is turned off or to go to bed at a certain hour” Why not?

Because we knew that he knew to turn it off. And we knew that he would go to bed when he was good and ready.

And both felt perfectly natural and perfectly fine for whatever strange and odd reason.

Our work in a lot of ways was complete:( He was a pasta cooking night owl now and was managing on his own in a way that made sense to him. We went to bed that evening….and I knew the time had come.

I shed a few  little tears and said little "I luv you"s in my mind for the darling boy I love to bits. My first baby.

And knew that it was all going to be (somewhat) ok.

Fini! Suivant???

Sweetest Searchings

There is something that my daughter does that I think is the most adorable thing in the world. Don’t we all think that of our own daughters?

I call it up in my mind each time a need a boost. When I conjure this image up, I quite frankly don’t really care of much about anything else.

It is so sweet. And so her.

When she watches a movie any time over the last two years she waits for the credits at the end and searches for her Dad’s name “Robert”. She refuses to let anyone move, turn off TV, or speak before she finds it…and she always does among the hundreds listed for production, producing etc..

Here comes the sweet part.

She says she will do this for the very rest of her life on every movie…awwwww

I picture her sitting there one day with her hubby, with her babies, then with her cane and her grandkids one day a looong time from now well after her Dad has passed away searching for his name.

She says it is in every movie. It has to be she says.

She says she is giving herself only two chances in life not to find it (I wonder what happens after two chances!!!)

For me this image shows so well who our daughter is.

It shows the sweet extent of her love for her favorite man in the world.

It makes me so incredibly grateful that I was able to give Him:  Her

So that he could forever be so adored and admired by his little daughter.

That was always part of the plan right?

And I am grateful that she has made all of us now search for special “Roberts” wherever we go.

The Birds, the Crickets (and the STUPID Raccoons)

We visited Auntie Chiffon and Uncle Chez Veto this weekend at their beautiful trailer on the lake. It was an awesome weekend over all.

I love being in nature.

That night when we set up in our tent for four (Beauty decided to sleep with my Mom in the trailer) I went to bed thinking “Wow-I love camping and tents…it is so cozy and wonderful. I love hearing the grasshoppers and crickets. I love waking to the birds in the morning and this air mattress is really comfy and cozy. I love having 3 guys beside me and all being together. What a sweet evening. Love it.”

I mean I do sleep all the time outside at my cottage on a Bali bed-what is the difference really?

I changed my mind somewhere in the middle of the night about tents.

It always seems to happen.

I always seem to start out loving them and then hating them in the middle of the night.

Maybe it had something to do with Chase waking up every 30 minutes and having night terrors and screaming out “Where are my sister and brother!!’” Or Chase accusing me of being a drug addict when at 5am I got up and popped a sleeping pill! Maybe it was the raccoon that unzipped our cooler and ate the 15 homemade cupcakes that I was fantasizing about all evening? Maybe it was the fact that the first part of the night on an air mattress is considerably better than the second part-it gets less cozy and less inflated as the night goes on.

 Sleeping in the tent the four of us also made me realize how similar Chase and I are (yup… the one who accused me of drug dealing and has panic attacks all night-him) and how mini-Dad Bear is.

Chase and I were excited to sleep in the tent…then our passion diminished. We are idealists and dreamers. Reality smacks us in the face often like hard bricks

One one side I had Bear and the other my Protector (what a terrible job he did of protecting me that night!)

Before “sleep” I said to both:

”Isn’t this amazing!!! I love sleeping in a tent so much FUN!”

One said” I will let you know what I think in the morning”

The other” Hmm…not sure. Will let you know tomorrow”

Ater those short sentences,both snored quietly the entire night. Both woke up at 9am and said they barely slept. Ya right!!!!!!! I was there...watching your sleep all night.....standards from these two are just way to high! Perfectionists.

Those realist’ twins! Neither could answer a hypothetical question if their lives depended on it.

Anyways so I woke up totally sleepless despite Ativan sleeping pill at 5am. Woke up wanting to stuff my face with a cupcake with extra vanilla icing early morning .Clearly that never happened.  But…..but…but….

I had a wonderful day and a wonderful weekend anyways. More than wonderful

And next time we go there..I will still want to sleep in a tent again and look forward to loving it.

I STILL love the IDEA of sleeping in a tentJ

Deserved: Chewables

Today I was looking through our medicine cabinet; observing all the medications we have that have piled up and expired; and a thought occurred to me.

“Gee isn’t that off how all the medications we have are chewable for the kids even though I have a close to 15 yrs old”

How embarrassing is that!

Yes. yes…some of my kids have been near midgets for many years so have weighed less than many 8 yr olds for so long but still..Chewable Tylenol for babies…still?

And what came to mind is that we often get what we deserve in life. A politer way to put this is that we get what we put focus on and try hard at. And cleary I have not been paying much attention to pill swallowing in this family.

Ok so over the years it has occurred to me that teenagers will be made fun off if they cannot swallow a pill; it has also occurred to me that now at his much more acceptable weight for his age he needs to take 5 tablets to reduce a headache, and has occured to me that if he goes to a sleepover with grape pills in his bag and his friends see them he might be the laughing stock of Grade 9 or the next drug dealer…BUT….

My effort has still been minimal. 2 hours at top delegated to my Mom to teach them with little Tic Tacs. Two kids got it somewhat and one nearly choked to death (the 15 yr old).

It goes to show that we achieve what we focus on. If we pay attention to our child’s independence they become autonomous .If we nuture our marriages, we often stay together or stay together longer, if we pay attention to our diet and body, we are healthier. And the list goes on and on and on….

And that is it why it is so  fundamentally important to pay attention to the things (and people) that matter most to us in our lives. When it matters the most. Have a plan-a vision-a dream of what you want your life to be. And live into it..by your daily actions.

 So my kids don’t swallow pills. Because I did not make it a priority.

Yet.

And to be honest I don’t quite really give a damn anyways.

(Do you think his future wife will)?

The Comfort of Authority

Sometimes out of nowhere it seems, I have a great memory from my childhood that creeps up, warms me up tight and indulges me in its warmth and comfort.

I have many of them when it comes to my Mom and my Brothers and childhood over all, including my Dad as part of the family unit.

I don’t have as many that involve my Dad only.

I had a very interesting memory this week about him however.

My kids over the last 2 weeks have had a friends sleeping over almost every night. It has seemed as though we have had a parade of kids in and out of our pool, our home, at our dinner table and in the kids beds over the last 14 days (just the way I like it in the summer!)

As fun as it is, I realized a few days ago that there has been not much privacy-I have not been able to wear my old pajamas as parents continuously show up at the door, I have not been able to skinny-dip in my pool late at night in fear that a 15 yr. old boy might walk down for a midnight snack….I have not been able to scream at my kids much either!

So I asked my kids for a night without friends over. I demanded it. (Usually we have this all the time because of cottage etc…and during school year stricter rules, but summer is a free for all in many ways).

And this request reminded me of one my Dad made to me when I was about 18 yrs old and started having my boyfriend over all the time, for most of the weekend (yep you heard right..I was allowed boys sleeping over-a posts for another time!!!!)

And his request made me mad..and angry and frustrated and I told him “how dare he want privacy and was it such a big deal anyways?” I was angry and felt my own privacy had been invaded. How dare he demand this of me-what a JERK !!! 

But deep in my heart…I held a smile and I was deliriously happy…that he cared enough…to demand something of me. He cared enough to stop me doing something that I needed to be told to stop…he cared enough to provide rules and guidance and discipline. He cared enough to demand, and use his authority and just say no.

This one particular time and maybe only a couple of other times after or before gave me comforts you cannot even begin imagine. Like a warm blanket on a chilly day or a cold lake on a hot sunny one. It enveloped me and when I think of my Dad I like to conjure up this one particular image.

He was acting like my Dad.

And I was 18 yrs. old and craved this authority and structure and authority…imagine how a 2 yr. old feels???? How much they need this even though they may cry and scream each time it is exercised by the parent?

I saw a Mom the other day in the mall with a four year old and I literally almost felt like walking over to her, shaking her an saying ”You do know right that you are doomed, that your adorable child will grow up a monster of a teenager and be dependent on you to make her decisions for the rest of her life as an adult right?”

Zero authority. Running around the mall as the Mom gently coaxed her to leave, being subject to every demand her daughter had and giving in, cuddling the child near her when the child has just gone and whacked another 3 yr old stranger nearly across the face, trying to talk gently to the child in a soothing and kind voice when the child called her stupid and was rude and impolite.

I was horrified amongst the many other onlookers who witnessed this scene.

I was horrified that the mother did not take control and certainly not at the normal (although a bit dramatic) behavior of her young child.

I felt so sad for the child who if had just been properly disciplined with a proper time out-, a very stern word of caution from the Mom and an immediate leaving of the scene… would then learn self control. To control herself in the future….what a loss opportunity and teaching moment for the child that she learnt that being inappropriate is accepted, and soothed, and valued. Where out there in the real world away from her Mom’s open arms this kind of behavior will get her bullied, and rejected and possibly even beat up on the schoolyard later in life.

So although I was not that kid at all that I am describing………my Dad was often much more passive when it came to the fine tuning and art of parenting.

My cravings were strong and the times he stepped it up will always remain good and fine memories for me.

And I remind myself of that memory when I demand more from my kids, and set high expectations, and believe in their capability and understand that the cues they take from me will determine their future and how they may see themselves, and how others may view them.

Thanks Dad for saying no to sleepovers with boys every weekend. It kinda saved me from a lot of thingsJ