First it was my daughter who turned sweet 16 two years ago. Today it was my second child, the oldest boy. He was bummed because he had a wrestling tournament today, and was hoping to spend time with friends instead. But he got up at 6am and took the bus to the tournament. We drove out a few hours later (about 40 minutes away) and watched the majority of his matches. I brought cupcakes for his team. He’s not big on celebrating, and really didn’t want to stray from that path today. A few years in a row now we’ve gone to his favorite restaurant, but it closed down this past year. He was never big on parties and isn’t one for being the center of attention.

When he got home, we went to the wireless store and picked him out a new phone (his old one was so crappy, and that’s all he wanted was a new phone – well and an iPod Touch, but, you know, money we are not made of). I used my “new every two” upgrade, but transferred the phone to him. Unfortunately the phone wasn’t in stock and we had to order it to be shipped to our house. The sale took a while, which frustrated him because he wanted to get going. He humored us with dinner – the whole family, which was nice; they brought out a sundae and did some clappy-clappy sing-song for him. Thrilled, you can imagine.

Then he went to hang out with his friends. Our daughter, we dropped at her friend’s house, him at his friend’s house, and the rest of us drove home, stopping to see the Christmas lights (on display each year in one of the city parks).

Parenting, raising children, is a strange process. When they were all young (oldest 11, youngest 3) it seemed like we would be there forever. It was stressful and exhausting, but wonderful at the same time. Having teenaged kids was just unfathomable. And here we are, our oldest 18, youngest 10). Moving out, driving, having relationships, employment issues… some of it is almost a flashback to my own youth, being 15, turning 16, meeting my future spouse, having kids, marrying. I look at parents of young children and wonder how I was them a blink ago, and here I am now. But then, really I’m just the same little girl in the blue dress and cap, 30 years later playing house and looking around in awe.

But now I’m talking about me. Wasn’t I just talking about birthdays?

Last winter we took a little picnic trip out to a small park a short way outside the city. We parked in the lot, grabbed the sleds and basket and hiked up a hill to get to a clearing where there is another small hill to climb. At the top is a fire pit and a beautiful view. But even better than that is the small Laura Ingalls style house that is set of at the edge of the treeline. It has a door, a table, wood and a stove. You can’t really keep too terribly warm in there or anything, it is all ambiance. Blissful, delicious ambiance. If it isn’t too chilly out, you can fire up the stove and remove your jacket, but I kept my snowpants on for good measure.

So last year while we were there, we brought hot dogs to roast on the open fire, cheese, chips, snacks for the kids. And my friend brought a pear-shaped bottle of congac. We had just enough to sip by the fire as the kids played in the snow, coming in to grab a bite or to “warm” by the stove. If they lingered too long and we ladies would shoo them out, urging them to catch as much daylight as possible before it got dark and we all had to squish and huddle in the tiny house.

My whole point in sharing this is to tell you about the cognac. The sweet, savory, better-than-dessert cognac that I kept tasting days later. OK, a whole year later. It was a gift given to my friends by someone else and they were kind enough to share it with us. For an entire year I’ve searched for this ‘yac. I don’t even know if I’d buy it, as it was a bit pricey and chances are I’d make it into a snowcone, drink it all and end up in the emergency room with cognac poisoning. But I just wanted to see the bottle, caress it and reminisce over the day we sat in the little house, warm but chilly, listening to the rain coming down, the kids attempting to sled on a hill of snow while it rained, the men trying to keep a fire outside in the wet, peeing in the dark bushes, telling scary stories, getting a call from my oldest son to let me know he was home puking, slipping down the hill on our way back to the car… fond, fond memories.

The other day at our friend’s Christmas dinner party, she brought out a festive bag that she gave to me, and to my sueprise, guess what was in it? Belle de Brillet pear cognac!! I figured I’d save it for a fine occasion.

Apparently that fine occasion is a cold Wednesday night when the kids are tucked into bed and I’m doing computer work.

Ah well, savor the day, I say.

If you ever have the craving for a pear or pear cognac, let me tell you, Belle de Brillet is some fine stuff.

Cheers.

Possibly in other cities seeing this parked in the lot would be… weird. Here in Madison, Wisconsin– it’s normal.

Funny story. We had family over one evening, Frank’s cousin, husband and their four young kids. Two of the  kiddos immediately ran off to play with our bucketful of cars. They would scamper in to the kitchen where we sat, brining cars to ask uncle Frankie about them.

Spidey-mobile, Frank told him for one. Another was a police car. Third time he comes in with our mini Wienermobile.

What’s this?

Why that’s the Wienermobile, replies Uncle Frankie smiling at the peculiar, but familiar vehicle.

The little boy looks at it, curiously. Turns it around, contemplating it. It’s a wiener? It took a few seconds for us to realize that not everyone sees a wiener-shaped car, and not everyone calls a hot dog a wiener.

Last night we went to a friend’s Christmas Party. It was more of a dinner party, with four couples and children. The kids played outside most of the time, while us adults stayed in, chatted and enjoyed being together. We weren’t all close friends, but we were familiar with one of the other couples. It was enjoyable, and I was able to, for the most part, take my mind of the everyday stress and simply enjoy myself. It’s been a while since I’ve had a relaxing night. I very much needed it. I need it on a more regular basis.

Unfortunately, I gave inaccurate information yesterday. I am not, indeed, going to post pictures of my breakfast-making fiasco from the Snow Day. Not that it is impossible, it just expends more energy than I’m willing to spare tonight.

Today was a long, busy but very normal day.

6:20am, alarm wakes me up. I roll over and ask Frank to re-wake me at 7:15

Wake. Reluctantly. Take pill; heat up flat iron.

Prepare coffee maker by grinding coffee, putting in the basket, adding the water – waited to turn it on until I was nearly done with my hair.

Send the kids off on the bus, turned on the coffee, dressed, put some toast in the oven, made a lunch (leftover salad, 2 pieces of hard salami, a small bag of tort-illa chips. Mmm. Sobe low-calorie drink. Quick coffee, peanut butter and honey toast, put make-up on and check email.

Frank drove me to work, was late (traffic and post office stop). Put in a productive day. Frank picks me up from work, to home I go, he drops me off while he runs to Subway to get a sub for Dante, who is wrestling tonight. I prepare some papers for meeting at school at 2pm.

To meeting I go, lasts over an hour. Drop off sub at mom’s house (who lives closer to school and will run it over to Dante once school is out so he has something to eat between the bus ride and his match).

4pm, finally home, quick bite to eat, putting a fire under the twins to get moving since one of them has their first soccer practice at 4:45pm (the one who broke his leg after getting hit by a car back in April, mind you – hallelujah).

Drop off Franny, take Sal to 2 stores to look at shoes. Didn’t buy shoes, but did pick up a boot warmer.

6pm Pick up Franny, hear all about the excitement of being at practice. Stop at mom’s, pick up Lootie (who went there after school), and Sophia (who lives with mom and dad); stop at Taco Bell. Pick up extra burrito and taco for later for the hungry wrestler.

Drop Sophia off at friend’s house.

7pm home.

Eat, homework, catch up on email. Wipe down the dresser mom and dad brought over for his room (we recently took out the carpet, put in new floor, he painted, etc.) Get a text from Dante. Lost his match 6 to 5, but did well. On the bus home.

pm Pick him up, stop off at Wal-mart, arrive home at 10:30. Chat with husband on the phone (he’s working overtime tonight), send off a couple text to my birthmother. Sit down to write this post.

Glass of wine? A little Wii fit? TV? Who knows. Read a bit.

Goodnight.

Today I bought a Wii Fit Plus with Balance Board. I am completely new to the whole Wii Fit craze. The balance board is taking some time to adjust to. The boys helped me set it up, and then proceeded to try and move in on my game time. Momma says NO. Rarely do I get a new toy, and I wanted to be the one to break that badboy in.

It’s easy to set up and pretty easy to use. Or… it appears to be. I don’t know if there’s something wrong with mine, but it does have one challenge: it runs backwards. So like, when I’m doing the soccer thing, if I want to go at a ball that is on my right, I lean left. Is that normal? ‘Cause it’s making my brain work too hard. I couldn’t even do the table-top thingy with the ball. I felt like I was going to melt my own brain trying to make my body do the opposite of what my brain was instinctively wanting it to do.

But, that’s only day 1. So far I learned that:

• my Wii Fit age is 45 (I thought it would be 65)
• and I’m obese (nothing new). It was kind of cute when the little stick figure suddenly packed on some girth, as the BMI radar hit the roof. The boys were defensive, telling me that I was not obese. How sweet.
• that I do not “outweigh” the board (it wasn’t until I got it home that it dawned on me that the board might not like people over 150 pounds – but guess what fellow fatties?! – the Wii Fit balance board weight limit goes all the way up to 330 (I guess that’s as high as it officially counts)

I’m actually looking forward to Day 2 and being a penguin again, eating more fish. That was probably my favorite so far.

(Psst – don’t forget to enter the giveaway – ends on Fri.)

Wordless Wednesday post…

Sal’s baseball tournament. He’s on 1st getting ready to run. He waits, he claps and cheers on his teammate who is trying to hit the ball, he runs.

P

I totally meant to expand on my Wordless post from yesterday, but then life and work got in the way. Well. I shouldn’t say they got in the way, like it IS life. Busy is life. This morning I got up, wasted as much time as I could trying to talk myself out of going to work out at the “Y” and finally succumbing to what I already knew: I wasn’t talking myself out of it.

Made it, did it (treadmill and bike), sweat like a pig in heat, took a shower, got my work clothes on and zoomed off to work. Did everything that needed to be done (bulletin done on a Thursday – what?!). Home. Took oldest boy freak to driver’s ED. Home. No clue what I did, then. Picked oldest boy freak up, took him to his friend’s for the night,  dropped the other freaks at “Y” for a bit, picked up Frank, got in a car accident (nobody hurt, not my fault, another entry will explain), picked up kids, got ice cream, went to Walmart. Home.

And now I write a Tell Me Thursday about my Wordless Wednesday, because, I’m just on top of things like that.

So it was just an impromptu grilling adventure. Nothing to do, but wanting – NEEDING – family time. Packed up what we had and set off to have an impromptu picnic with our grill. The main course was turkey burgers, but we also had a bagful of corn. The goal was to find a park with a permanent grill where we could cook the corn, and then we’d make the burgers on our smaller portable grill.

The boys grumbled for the first portion of our “adventure” as we drove around like blind mice looking for a permanent-grill-rendering-park. Finally I turned on the GPS, much to Frank’s disgust (he’s anti-GPS). He remembered a little park tucked away and we plugged it in. By this time, it was pretty much going to be the tucked away park or nothing, and if they didn’t have a permanent grill, we’d trash the corn.

One baseball diamond, a whole bunch of grass, long driveway, a shelter, park, horseshoes (for crimminy sake) – it was just too perfect. Oh, and - a standalone grill. Oh, and a bathroom. With soap pumps. We hadn’t been to the park in years. I was so glad we revisited it. We basically owned the park for the duration of our visit. It was great.

Frank grilled, I watched the boys beat each other up. Dinner was served, and everyone enjoyed the family time despite being initially bent on trying NOT to enjoy it and label it a completely fruity idea.

THE CORN: We put it on the grill, in the husk, over ready coals for about 30 minutes or so. I don’t mind a few darker parts. It adds to the flavor. Seriously, I could have just eaten the corn it was that good.

The boys played, ran, kicked balls, kicked each other, ate, laughed. The food was super simple and fantastically delicious. It was nice to just be alone, as a family, encapsulating some time for us together, even if only for a few hours. A mini-vacation here and there among the regularity of the days, weeks and months, doesn’t always have to be jetting off to another country or even visiting another state (a luxury that right now, we simply can’t afford). An impromptu picnic in the park does just fine.

For the first time since April 1st when he had to have his beloved “Skinny Jeans” cut off of his injured leg, Franny put on a pair of jeans. And shoes. On both feet.

You can read more about Franny’s accident and recovery from his broken leg. I’ll write more about his last appointment, but not now. Now I just want to bask in the joy of jeans and shoes.

Sophia (who will be 18 next month) called me the other day and asked if I’d like to come over and have breakfast with her. She’s staying with my parents right now (with the hopes of acquiring a JOB and moving into her own apartment), gaining her “independence” and sparing her brothers some of her teenage angst. The first week was… questionable. She spent most of her time there avoiding all responsibility and hanging out with friends. This second week, though, has gone better. She’s applied for some jobs, went to youth group, and is working on being more responsible. Baby steps.Very tiny, wobbly, and sometimes messy baby steps.

It was a nice shift to have her be making me breakfast. I thought for sure there was some catch. Come for breakfast… andtakemeshopping or Come for breakfast… and borrow me some money or Come for breakfast… and — wait, money, shopping… what else is there?

No catch though, and I checked myself for assuming there would be. Skeptical mom. She simply wanted to make me breakfast.

I’m generally a picky breakfast eater. I don’t like too many carbs (at least not “bad” white ones), and if I do allow myself a treat (generally waffles), I bang up on the protien and fiber.

White bread, Honeybun, eggs with bacon and cheese, yogurt with blueberries and strawberries and coffee.

I was hesitant to even touch the “white death” bread or honeybun because of my carb/breakfast issue. Do it for the kids, I told myself. Do it for Johnny!!

And I did. And… it was good. Not the honeybun, gosh those things are like eating sugar-speckled chemically processed carpet fibers in the shape of a doughnut. But the eggs? Yummy. Toast — everyone can benefit from some nutritionally-void buttered white bread now and then. Coffee, good (surely made by my mother or father before they left), but whatever.

Conversation was nice, the food was good. Finally. Finally a respite between the head-butting that has become so common over the past few years. Just as it was years ago, watching her take baby steps, make friends at the park or accomplish other rights-of-passage as a baby/toddler/pre-teen, it is also satisfying and gratifying to see her making those same steps into adulthood.

Now if I could just get a picture of her that doesn’t look like it fell off of Myspace.