5th Grade Research & Paper Maché (Grandma Report)

Two weeks ago, the kids told me they had a big assignment from Sr. Rosanne. They had to create a mini-float representing their assigned state. Last year, they each researched a state as an extra project. They were given a few extra projects in class while other kids received some scholastic support. Bridget kept hers, Stephen had a new one.

On working with kids long term home work project - it's supposed to be an opportunity to research a state and figure out a way to represent it. We talked over their ideas - even allowed them to think about how they would create a float to the scale of one of Stephen's old Tonka trucks. They said some of their class mates might make a cake. I suggested we stick with craft/art ideas - then I blurted out "paper maché."

They're very creative in their ideas; some of them inspired by their excellent Banana Factory classes or summer camp activities (Thank you, Banana Factory, Northampton Community College, and Baum School of Art). But they also had to research how to make paper maché, use hot glue guns, melt crayons, print textural patterns, free draw Mr. Peanut, and texturized painting techniques. Along the way, they learned the states' main industry and capitals.

We got started straight away - even though they had a good three weeks to work on it. Their enthusiasm wasn't going to be squelched by a last minute frenzy. They knew what they wanted to do - and I knew the weekend before it was due was the Celtic Classic and other chaos. I was actually thinking about how to build a proportionally accurate trailer to be pulled by the Tonka truck. When I realized that meant axels and wheels.... never mind.

Last weekend was the paper maché. Steve as out of town, so what the heck? Let's just make the chaos of single parenting that much better. Still had the regular weekend work: course prep, student monitoring, my own assignments and the regular domestic stuff. Additionally, a significant research interview opportunity, and Nutcracker auditions - but what's a little mess?

Walking around town with flour paste all over my pants, is what happened. Only a tad embarrassing when I was trying to hide in the back of the room at the Ballet Nutcracker Parent meeting. Those ladies are styling even on Sunday afternoons. But we got the first part of the project done in time to get to the interview and even enjoy the evening book reading. By golly, they really do look like a volcano and a hot air balloon.

Fast forward to this weekend - Stephen's heading into tech week then opening night on Friday. Tech week means 6:30pm call time and prepare to stay until 11pm each night this week. Bridget still has her ballet/ harp/ Girl Scouts, and I'm still getting that together, too. Also - next weekend is CELTIC CLASSIC, another guest artist at Zoellner AND - Peggy Orenstein on Thursday.

Stephen was kind enough to wake up early on Saturday. He and Bridget painted their paper maché creations. Then I assisted Stephen attach the pebbles with the hot glue gun while Bridget free drew her Mr. Peanut.

I needed to get to Lehigh for the first Saturday Socratic Rounds (M. Ed intellectual dialogue and networking) and then stop by the Celtic Classic grounds to meet with the other Education committee members to sort out craft supplies. (By golly, we're ready to go - except I still need to cut the sheep - later). Steve took the kids around the Historic neighborhood for their annual rummage sale. Bridget got her annual sparkly old lady jewelry (including vintage clip on earrings)
We met up (kind of) at Mayflower diner - me with the committee at a booth. Steve and the kids at the counter. It seemed so...... normal.

When I got home, we were back at the projects in between loads of laundry and races with the vacuum cleaner. Stephen had to shave a lot of crayons, and Bridget started making her basket. In between, each took turns on the computer researching more info on their states. I was still not sure how we were going to get the melted wax onto the volcano by Saturday bed time. I decided to let it go for the night; pulling up a movie Steve and I hadn't seen yet - The Social Network. Microwave popcorn, and a sugar free Butterbeer (see later) - gosh, this almost felt like a date night.

I woke up at the crack of too early on Sunday morning with a creative breakthrough. The way to get the wax onto the volcano was to heat it like heroine.... Breaking Bad style. I've honestly never tried heroine. Stephen woke up a little after me, so he was able to drip the melted wax onto his project, after I handled the fire part.

Other fun things that happened this weekend - we rescued a praying mantis in the Zoellner parking garage. Stephen named him Copper. Apparently, we have a thing for bugs. After "Gripper" the spider stayed in our right side rear view mirror for nearly three weeks; surviving highway speeds to Baltimore, Philadelphia and back - we needed another critter to tend to.

Friday, I had 30 minutes in between picking up Bridget from Ballet and Stephen from his rehearsal. Of course that's enough time to run to Wegmans for Butterbeer ingredients. Came home and whipped out the blender. By golly, these tasted really good. I also have a really old bottle of Butterscotch Schapps for the grown up version.

Sunday after cinnamon rolls, Bridget and I helped out our friend Candi at the Pancreatic Cancer Research walk in Allentown Parkway. Lovely park. Glorious day. Bridget wanted to walk around the park after we finished our duties. I'll not say "no" to my daughter who still wants to hold my hand when we walk. Some folks might think she's a little old for this - but it still makes me feel all warm and loving.

 

Sunday night, I was able to make a couple of meals ahead for the week; broccoli cheese calzones, banana bread, and red lentil stew.

I guess this was a busy weekend. But we're heading into another great week, full of opportunity and blessings. I get to play with a router to cut a flock of styrofoam sheep at Lehigh, figure out how to realize the idea of green screen technology for the pre-show lobby activity before LEO, escort Peggy Orenstein around campus this Thursday, and volunteer at the Celtic Classic.

There's also a school board meeting, and a City Safety Council meeting I hope to attend - some things I read about in the local newspaper got me a little upset and I intend to get to the bottom of it (more later).

Well, by this time - the food is cool enough to store away for the week. I gotta hit the sack for a 7am MRI on the left shoulder. If I'm more than just old, and am truly broken, I hope the MRI can tell the good doctor that I'm not exaggerating. I only wish I could meet an orthopedic doctor that actually was sympathetic toward overweight moms with life long alignment issues.

Good night, mom. I love you.

Over the Top

Last night I gave a speech for a local program that I participated in two years ago, Leadership Lehigh Valley. Here's a brief description of the program from their website:

Leadership Lehigh Valley (LLV) is a regional leadership development program designed to prepare and enable future community leaders. LLV's mission is to build a continuum of civic leaders committed to our community's excellence by serving as a catalyst for civic engagement.

I've always been civically engaged. This was unconsciously encouraged by my mother, simply by watching her read from the altar at church, shopping at the local farmer's market, singing at hootenannies, reading books from the public library, voting, and listening to the adult conversations she had with her friends. Later in school, I remember feeling challenged and frustrated at the contradictions of statements vs. behaviors of grown ups. In college, as I began to realize a highly complicated and troubled world, I became overwhelmed. What in the heck was I supposed to do to change the world as a bassoonist? I was developing serious delusions of grandeur with all of my lists, goals and aspirations.

A few career twists, some other momentous milestones happened, and I find myself in this moment of numerous blessings:
1. a great marriage (If you haven't met my husband yet, consider your life incomplete until you do),
2. two wonderful kids (I know every mom is supposed to say that, but my kids really are awesome),
3. an incredible employment situation with challenging work, supportive colleagues and enough of a brain trust around me to meet daily issues,
4. generous friends both near and far, and as many ways to stay connected with all of them as there are memories to cherish,
5. a lovely neighborhood and community in which I live.

So back to last night's speech. I was asked by the program director to offer some "reflection and motivation" for the new class. I started searching for a few "leadership" quotes to find inspiration, looked over notes from some educational leadership courses I've taken at Lehigh, and then came to the conclusion for my speech.

Leadership isn't a noun; it's a verb. It's something one does when they see something that needs to be done. I often call leaders around me, "superheroes." It's not that they have super powers. It's that they have a conscience and act on it. They participate, they follow the rules, they make mistakes and find ways to make up for them. Their deeds don't always get noticed or celebrated, yet superheroes do them anyway. The best superheroes in my book don't seek praise. In fact, if it's heaped upon them, they blush and are sometimes very uncomfortable. They just do their thing.

From all of models of leadership in my life, both good and bad, I have learned to take actions that aren't intended to qualify for a leadership label on my LinkedIn account. I just want to contribute something to this world that will make a difference; something that will help others, bring a little joy, or ease a burden.

I woke up this morning in the middle of a dream about my Aunt Bernice. She's been in my dreams a lot lately. I've written about Auntie Bernice before. She and my mom were also pretty good friends. Beyond her cooking, she was also a feminist and sang SUPER loudly (albeit beautifully) in church. She said the congregational prayers loudly, too. Maybe it was her way to drown out the BS that may have been swirling in the parish (I remember that pastor being particularly dick-ish). Her generosity, humility, and integrity was huge. Mostly, I remember her living life "over the top." She was a leader to me - and a superhero.

My mom lives her life "over the top" by volunteering at the Kenosha Public Museum and at the Anderson Arts Center across the street from her house. She still reads, and has a book club, she still drives, and is doing some AMAZING things in genealogy. She and my sister still do multiple trips to Spring Green, WI to watch theatre, and she still shops at the local farmer's market and sings at hootenannies. She's starting to share secrets with me. Like, as I get older, my body will take longer to recover from a fall. When I acknowledge the undeniable fact that I'm getting older, I panic. I feel like I'm running out of time to meet my aspirations.

But..... I'm already living my aspirations when I live "over the top" just like Auntie Bernice and my mom. They didn't analyze their actions worrying about if others call them a "leader" or not. They just embraced life, found joy, and did what needed to be done.

And how do I live life "over the top?" I'm going to leave that up to my kids to figure out when they reach my age. If they want to.

Don't Know What You've Got 'til it's Gone

Yes, Joni Mitchell, you are wise.

But I write not about a love gone away - unless one regards my love of the comforts and conveniences of 21st century. You really don't know how much you rely on electricity until you don't have it. Our community has had plenty of opportunity to learn how to rough it without electricity (and heat) during a couple of freak storms. We just happened to live in a certain spot on the grid that we didn't lose power during either the Frankenstorm or Super Storm Sandy. We offered our home to others without, but no body ever took our invitations. We knew we were lucky both times - even though the first storm knocked a tree limb on the house that resulted in a substantial amount of money to remove the damaged green house.

While the green house was being dismantled, the contractors found the fan switch we'd been looking for since we moved into the house. Too late now - it's gone. So was one year of tuition for one kids' college. After Super Storm Sandy, we knew we needed to remove the huge liability-waiting-to-have-another-limb-fall-on-another-part-of-the-house tree. Bye-bye tree. And another chunk of college tuition savings.

We seem to be spending home improvement money on having less to show for it.

Murphy's Law also plays a good part in our household drama. On Wednesday night, the first night of a long holiday weekend - the electricity went out. It's happened before, but now it's going out more than once a day. On the holiday, the electricity popped out five times. The main breaker box kept shutting off. We turned off all electronics we weren't using. Unplugged all but the essentials. We ran the dishwasher - and yes, the electricity went out one more time.

Friday, we called an emergency electrician. The fee and the visit confirmed we need to replace the breaker box. The one we have now is more than 50 years old, and the company that recalled it is out of business. Steve read up on it - and oh joy, it's a fire hazard.

I had to get to campus to finish an overdue report. Steve worked at home, sweating over a laptop and kept an eye on things at home.

We opt to stay in the ridiculously hot house Friday night - even though our kind neighbor offered his couch -  to keep an eye on the breaker box, and the make sure we can reset it to not lose the fridge full of food. I should also mention that more than half of the windows are sealed shut - so cross breeze isn't happening. At least the kids could swim in our neighbor's pool so that their body temps were low, their figer tips pruney, and they were tried out from a day of "marco - polo."

Saturday afternoon, we took the neighbors' kids to a movie with us - just to give their parents a break from all the pool time.  We couldn't leave the house for longer than 2 hours at a stretch. We ate dinner outside again, and got ready for another over night battle of the hot and humid house. We put bed sheets in the downstairs freezer. We all slept in our undies.

Sunday morning, we decided to find the happy switch. A long, slow brunch at a diner, leisurely walks down the isles of K Mart and WalMart, and then Lady B and I hit the laundromat. All of these locations have A/C. Even though our neighbor offered to use their washer and dryer - we got seven loads washed, fluffy dry and folded in three hours. Lots of quarters, but at least I don't feel like I've lost an entire weekend.

Tonight - we gave up on the heat and the house. As much as we'd love to take our neighbor up on the offer for a couch, Steve's back would have taken such a beating. We found a hotels.com deal and we're entering the den of sin.... staying at the casino hotel. At least this is a hotel we didn't have to drive seven hours to get to. Most of our hotel stays are rest stops on our way to Detroit.

The kids really needed something adventurous for the holiday weekend from hell. We got to the hotel in time for a dinner at Emeril's Burger joint. While the kids swam in the indoor pool, Steve went back the house to check on the breaker box and the animals. Tomorrow, Steve goes straight to work and the kids start their first day at Camp Touchstone.

I want my house working. Let's see if an electrician can make things right tomorrow. According to weather.com, this heat isn't going anywhere.

... Don't it always seem to go? That you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone."

Well worn

I had turned off this blog for a while; a story I might write about another time. I'm back - because I need to blog my thoughts again. There's an energy bottled up in my head. I need a purge. If you choose to read this, blessings on your heart.

I can't even remember when she made it for me. It was in a very productive time for her. I think it was after Dad died. She taught herself to knit to occupy her time when dad was at the VA hospital for his visits. She sat for hours in the waiting room. She was an occupational therapist, but when she had her children in the 1960s, she became a traditional home-maker/mom. She managed the household incredibly well. She was crafty then, and brilliant with repurposing ground beef and white rice. When Dad came home from work, she would run to any art/craft/make something class she could. She told me once,

"As fulfilling as motherhood is, it can be incredibly boring."

I may have mentioned I was raised a Catholic. She had five children in the span of six years. Her time of raising children was that same time as Mad Men - but without the hip, New York life style. Her time of motherhood was the same as Jackie Kennedy, but she had no pearls.

Now that I've had my turn at the baby/toddler/early childhood years, I get it. It's not that we don't love our children - but at a certain point in motherhood, one could possibly lose their minds if they don't disengage with feeding, burping, wiping, diapers and toy possession peace talks.

She set a goal to knit one for all of her children. She let us pick out the patterns from a catalog. She made each one in birth order. I think she made mine when I was in undergrad; more than 25 years ago. I stupidly put it through the washing machine. Even in cold water, it shrunk. I've been working to stretch it back, either by hand pulling or over eating. This is a sweater that I will never throw away.

There's some spots on it. I've tried to work them out with gentle soaps over the years. Just tried to loosen some of them with Oxy-clean. The dirty spots have shadows.

I wear this most cold weather weekends around the house. It's my "go-to" mobile blanket. Every time I wear it, I think of the love she poured into it. It feels like she's holding me. It smells of my perfume. But I imagine there's a lingering scent of her hands tightly woven into every stitch.

She also knitted sweaters for her seven grandchildren. When she made the sweaters for my kids, they were toddlers. She's knitted other Aran pattern projects - but she's not going to knit me another one.

Here's a bit of info about Aran knitting from a reliable source:

From the beginning, the Irish sweater has been intimately linked to clans and their identities. Aran women shared their knitting patterns and skills and passed them from one generation to the next. An official register of these historic patterns has been compiled, and can be seen in the Aran Sweater Museum on the Aran Islands.


Aran knitting is an Irish tradition that may soon be lost if the next generation doesn't learn how to make them. I suspect the reason why she is passive-aggressively not knitting me another - no matter how much I beg her to do it - is her way of encouraging me to learn how to knit. Last year, I signed up with my daughter to learn Aran knitting from a woman who is a member of the Ladies auxiliary of the Allentown Hibernians. Her name is Kathy. She fell in love with Lady B; who has some pretty good finger dexterity and ability to make even stitches. I, on the other hand, was a hopeless case. I kept losing stitches every time I had to answer a text or a tweet on my mobile devices. I know there's places in the Lehigh Valley where I can learn - I just have to make the time to do it.

Until then, I will wear this sweater over a few layers tomorrow for the Bethlehem parade. It looks to be a chilly day. I'll wear my Aran knit sweater to balance the kilt - which no self-respecting Irish person should wear. But when you're a board member for the Celtic Cultural Alliance; you wear the costume.

If you see the dirty spots, know they came from years of studying, practicing, reed making, vacuuming, dusting, baking, cooking, feedings, diaper changes, sick day cuddles and lots of family movie nights.

I wear this one-of-a-kind sweater with the greatest admiration and affection for the woman who made it.

What is the trigger?

Sunday night; settling down after the long drive back from another wonderful Detroit/Bowling Green, OH four day weekend. The drives are a grind, but Steve insists on doing all of it. The kids were raised on these trips. They look forward to marathon movies in the back seat. The only thing I really need to do is figure out a way to occupy myself; usually twitter, magazines when the signal is weak, or staring out the window and thinking. All good things for someone who complains about not having time to think.

This was the first White family gathering since Nonna died last year. I can't believe it had been that long since the White siblings gathered. We usually gathered for either T-day, Xmas or NYE. Always for one week in the summer. After Nonna's funeral in October 2011, we stayed home for T-day and got to see the Bethlehem tree lighting, and other local traditions. It was nice to take a break from the many weekend trips of the past three years. We stayed home through Christmas Eve, but drove to Detroit on Boxing day to try to connect with any family still hanging out in Detroit. New Year's Eve was spent in Bowling Green with our old posse. It was a great night hanging out, sampling Mark's scotch (he's got quite a collection), talking about everything and nothing with our dearest friends.

Before Nonna died, the family gatherings were organized around her and Papa's traditions; significant and not so insignificant holidays (anything with a 3-day weekend), weddings (lots of weddings), baptisms, first communions, confirmations, high school graduations, wine making,...  Steve's siblings are very close. Four of the seven siblings live in the Detroit area. Their kids grew up together. Every family gathering had continuous eating and conversations that would start at the hello hug and last through the 2 hour packing and "oh, and that reminds me of...." as we try to leave.

There's usually a moment in Detroit when I watch Steve's family and wish I could just walk into another room of the house to see my mom and my siblings. This time I had to settle for a phone call. After I got off the phone, as expected, I was starting to feel anxious about not being with my mom. I'm not there. I'm missing something. There's always this moment when I'm with Steve's family when I feel like I need to bust out of the house. I need to retreat into my own space.

This is why I started jogging again. A few years ago, I packed some exercise clothes just in case I had the opportunity. Every visit now, I get a 2 mile walk/run in Grosse Point Park - long enough to get from the home we're staying to to some view of Lake St. Claire and back. It's all I need. When I'm done with the quick run; I feel like I've chased the demons away.

The night of that run, I split seven Belgian beers with my sister-in-law's husband. Next day, I felt no pain. I felt great!

This was an awakening.

After a Belgian waffle, we drove to Bowling Green. For some reason, the anxiety started creeping in again. Luckily, the BG friends have known me for more than 25 years - they don't care if I need to escape. So I put my running clothes back on and went for a little jog in the woods.

I got lost on the trail just before dark. When I finally figured out how to get out of the woods, this 10 point deer came up from behind and ran right passed me; about 15 feet to my right. (Thanks to Mark - I got a good picture of this big boy)

Stuff like that only happens when you just decide to take an adventure and get lost.

I flipped some kind of trigger on this trip. As I sit and write this post while the laundry is going and I dig my heels into still being on vacation (no, I'm not reading email and getting ready for the week right now), I'm trying to figure out when I'll be able to get my next run in.

Who am I and what happened?

Does this have anything to do with embracing my failings as they are - and starting to let shame go?

I heard this phrase in a radio interview today; "It's not a mid-life crisis. It's a mid-life unravelling."
(Listen to this researcher: she's pretty awesome. Brene Brown researches vulnerability)

Am I finally accepting things that I cannot change; and finding serenity in the things I can?

Hump Day

Normal people don't consider Friday night a "hump day." I've never said I was normal. I mean, it's definitely not normal to have one night off or weekend without schedule since August 14th. Yes, this is by my own choice. I posted on my Facebook page yesterday, that someone told me I make myself too available. That person is right. I do.

I make myself available for things I care about. I've written before about my tendency to over-commit to things, and how this habit started as a coping mechanism when I was a teenager. This is a tough habit to break.

Now that the kids are nine, and Steve is about to start on new meds (Copaxone), I need to make a major life adjustment. My coping mechanisms have to change for a healthier way to deal with the inevitable job stress (which really isn't that stressful when there's so much real crap in the world that offers perspective), stress by getting involved in civic things which brings political stickiness, and all the other stress that is just plain life. Seriously, life is pretty good.

My coping mechanisms have to offer a way to give my day a bit more balance in increasing my heart rate instead of my blood pressure. I've written manifestos of change before. But what I never did before was actually celebrate the ending of bad behaviors, bad choices, and accepting the responsibility of all of it.

Tomorrow night is a big party where I work; the annual Gala. There's a fantastic artist performing, who will not only entertain, but inspire. Inspire me to loose weight to be as petite as her? No way - I'm not unrealistic. But she has inspired me to buy a dress with sparkles. I may even use some of Bridget's body glitter. I'm going to put on my party hat (that means careful make up application and extra hair product). I'll force my feet into heels and sit down as much as possible. It's going to be a celebration for me, a saying goodbye to the habits and choices that keep me from taking care of myself.

Tomorrow before the big party, I'll be hanging out in a vendor tent at a community event. But, while this event is going on, another event is happening for the first time in Bethlehem - a half marathon festival by Runner's World magazine. I'll have to work out a travel plan around the marathon route; but I'll be wishing I was in shape to be able to run it.

I'm not going to expect that one day I'll be able to run a half marathon. I passed over that delusion last year. However....

Sunday, the day in which the only thing I have scheduled is to get our pumpkins carved and practice the Halloween make-up, I'm going to find time between menu planning, groceries, laundry, lesson plans, and research to get back out on the street with my tired running shoes, my dog, maybe my friend Todd and start on day one. I'm pretty good at filling my day with work, finding work, or multi-tasking my day half consciously present to the task or conversation at hand.

I've been waiting for time to magically present itself in my schedule. I've been waiting for some magical switch inside my resolve to stay disciplined. The act that needs to happen, is that I need to hit the switch with conscious deliberation.

Part of a mid life crisis, is the grace to accept the wisdom that comes with the age. This summer, I reconnected with a former professor and mentor who reminded me about accountability to my own decisions. Since I'm starting to feel comfortable in my own skin - maybe it's time to start taking care of my skin, and all the parts packaged inside it.

Hello, "Extra"

It's not too early on a Saturday morning, but the house is quiet. Kids were up late last night watching the Avengers. Again. 

I'm not a fan of multiple viewings of the same film. There are only a few films that are seasonal rituals. Arsenic and Old Lace at Halloween, It's a Wonderful Life at Christmas, Jesus Christ, Superstar (2000 made for TV version) on Good Friday. Other movies pop up only because cable TV consistently airs them on military holidays: Patton, Saving Private Ryan, Independence Day... Some movies are on so frequently, I can name it only hearing a few lines of dialogue or a few seconds of sound track from another room. It's a silly skill. Wouldn't it be nice if it came in handy one day? The skill is very similar to an old game show, "Name that Tune." (for those born after 1985, read this and play along). It would be great if all this useless pop culture information and skill could be put to gainful use.

My brothers also extend this skill at family gatherings. There's usually some point in the formal dinner when (and often to take a break from any potential political argument), someone quotes a Monty Python movie, or Young Frankenstein, Princess Bride, or makes a Three Stooges sound. When the quotes start, entire scenes from the movie will be recited. The cousins have come to accept this as family ritual. G-Mom simply rolls her eyes. She's good at that. Her multiple eyeball rolling expressions can cover "exasperation" to "aren't they ridiculous?" 

I realize that for all the generations that have grown up with the boob tube - this is a natural state of being. My kids weren't big television consumers as toddlers. When they were in childcare, the TV was used for videos. At home, we watched Elmo (even though it killed me sometimes). I remember running to shut off the TV if the purple dinosaur started. I really wanted to avoid any Barney demands. There was also some fun music videos on Jack's Big Music Show on NOGGIN. For the most part, when we hung out at home, we had music on; and TV was only in the mornings. They were pretty good about playing with each other. This morning, I'm having a tough time remembering how much TV we actually watched with them before we moved into our home in 2008 (they were 5)

They are huge movie watchers. We built movie watching into our lives out of necessity. Living 10 hours away from Steve's family, movie marathons were a part of long car rides back and forth between Bethlehem and Detroit. Knowing they were going to watch 6 movies in a row made them jump for joy at the thought of being strapped in a car for 9-10 hours; depending on how thick the traffic or how much lead in Daddy's foot. We have a decent amount of movies. And I'm glad to say that some of them are now "for little kids." Thankfully, they have just outgrown the Transformers series. Holy crap, looking up that link, I found out that Michael Bay is planning a 4th movie. When that comes out, we'll have to watch all three movies again. Sweet Jeebus, help me!

Last trip to my hometown area (Chicago/Milwaukee), the kids watched all 8 Harry Potter movies and a few others. I mostly don't mind this - even when Steve doesn't let me do any of the driving, and I'm bored out of my skin - because the kids have headphones on. I can't read for long stretches of time in a car. I've become prone to motion sickness. These adventures used to be a great time for Steve and me to have conversations beyond daily monotony. Funny how their filters hear exactly what you don't intend for them to hear, and they haven't yet developed the filter on their mouths. Thank g-d for Twitter. But woe to me when we're in a 'o' zone.

They've started throwing movie quotes at each other. They wanted to be able to parlez "Avengers" with me. See, even though they've watched it a few times this week, and I saw it in the theatre with them this summer, I haven't been home very much in September. Apparently, it's not fully experienced until they see the movie with every family member and babysitter.

Last night, the long awaited family night finally happened. While Bridget was at her ballet class, Stephen and I did an early First Friday walk through so we could have dinner as a family with Steve joining us at Mama Nina's after Bridget's ballet was over. While the food wasn't as good as previous visits (next family restaurant night will be elsewhere, thanks to a ridiculously unnecessary bad attitude by the host), we enjoyed each other. Mom & Dad let go of the work week, Bridget and Stephen got their fill of garlic bread before their meal came.

At the end of the meal, Bridget wanted us to invite our friend Todd over to watch it with us. 

"Didn't he watch it with you on Thursday?"

"Yes, but he didn't see the whole movie."

You're not off the hook if you left before the movie ended. They notice these things now.

Somewhere in the middle of the movie Bridget said, "We're all here together. Mommy, Daddy, Stephen, Buddy (dog), Porsche (cat), me and.... EXTRA!"

Our family has its rituals. Last night, a new ritual was born; a place of honor for friends who join us for a movie night. It was the first time this honor was bestowed on any person not blood kin. I wonder if we'll have to sacrifice an animal to celebrate.

My first

I finally did it. I ran (ok, wobbled) my first 5k. This rambling blog post is to record details of the event so I can look back on it after I finish my first 10K, my first half marathon, or perhaps cross the finish line of my first full marathon. I want to remember the details of this monumental achievement. 

At least it is monumental to me.

I hit the reset button on my exercise routine last spring. On a whim, I bought a book, Run Your Butt Off. Not sure what inspired me to do that - I think it was the 30-day free trial. It's a great program for people like me: middle aged, busy, and desperate to not be in their current physical condition anymore. I have extra challenges; two bad knees. There was a time I was convinced I needed knee replacement surgery. Just couldn't find a knife happy, pill-popping orthopedic surgeon to be my Doctor Feel Good.

Like most 30-day free trials, I wrecked the book putting a wet towel on it at the pool this summer. Thus began a commitment to working my way through the damned program. The RYBO program goes through progressive stages; walking/running for 30 minutes from non-stop walking to 30 minutes of non-stop running. One only advances to the next stage when one can complete the current stage four times in a given week. I had worked through stage 7 by the time I got to my summer vacation in Canada. The one with my in-laws. The one where I wanted to run for a few moments alone... in the woods... with the loons. I got some great runs on the vacation. They were great because I did them.

In the book, the authors encourage the reader to sign up for a 5K when the reader is only at stage 5 workout.  Even though I was running for 2/3rds of the workout time, I still wasn't running non-stop. I didn't actually sign up when the book told me to. But I did consider trying to run a 5K by Thanksgiving. Not sure where I was going to be; what city, or state. But I knew there'd be one somewhere close to where my butt would be expanding from another indulgent holiday.

Enter another impulse moment. I saw a street banner for the Historic Bethlehem Partnership Turkey Trot a few weeks ago. As I drove under the street banner, the idea went into the place in my head where many thoughts go, right in line behind all of the other tasks I want/wish/should do so that I can look at myself in the morning mirror with a little more self-respect. The thought got buried.

Just yesterday, I read a local newsfeed about the Turkey Trot, with a link to the info page. I tried the online registration, but missed that deadline. I called the phone number to find that I could still register downtown for $10 less than day of registration. We stopped by the visitor center on our way to the Tree Lighting Ceremony. Dropped $25 bucks and had this passing thought: that was a generous donation, if I don't actually make it. I'll still feel good about supporting the local historic preservation efforts. I'm already justifying laziness, and I haven't even failed yet!

The only thing left was to eat a carb-y meal, and try to fall asleep early. Stefano's usually helps on both accounts. I passed on a glass of chianti, and went for a simple penne pasta dish. By the time we got home, I bargained 2 chapters of C.S. Lewis for the kids in lieu of TV. While they complied, I weakened. The Devil Wears Prada was on. I had to stay up to see THAT scene with Meryl Streep. It was important.

I am an idiot.

The alarm went off in enough time for me to pull on the running clothes, warm up some Thera Flu, grab a few spoonfuls of yogurt and granola, and head out the door, park downtown, grab my T-shirt and number. I only had to betray my dog. This is normally when we have our long run together.

The volunteers were super organized. I had enough time to pin on my number and dive into the crowd. I think if I had gotten there any sooner, I would have freaked out a little. Less than half a mile into the race, I saw walkers passing me. And uber moms with their toddlers in (really expensive) running strollers. And people in costumes. The serious runners were far ahead - and God bless them. I just didn't want to see them lapping me.

At the first mile marker, I got a drink of water from a volunteer. I wonder if I'll ever learn how to drink and run at the same time. I tried to talk to some of the other runners that were about my pace. One nice lady told me that this was her second Turkey Trot. Her first one was last year. Her walking pace was faster than my running pace. I think I was keeping her motivated to finish before I did. Other people didn't want to talk to strangers. I tried to ease into a conversation with two other participants, they freaked out a little, and started whispering like they were in a library. Guess not every person on the run wants to make new friends.

The route ran through some of the more charming parts of the city; historic downtown shopping district, Sand Island, City Hall. That image is a screen capture of the exercise tracker app I use in case my body needs to be found. Note the impressive 16:27 mile pace! I swear there was an older lady with a cigar and a walker moving faster than me. But I did something she didn't do.

I Finished!

I got a little emotional at the end. There were some really nice strangers that cheered me across the finish line. I called Steve to let him know I did it and that I'd be home soon. Then I had to call my mom. I was lucky that my brother Mike answered her phone. He's the one who inspired me to try running again after he finished his first marathon. He ran his personal best 5K yesterday in the Kenosha Turkey Trot. Wouldn't it be great if some Thanksgiving in the future, we run a 5K together? 

When I got home, Steve and the kids gave me a great round of applause, and scrambled eggs and toast the kids made for me. Take that, menopause!

I'm now looking for a 10K to run. Maybe I'll even make it across the line of a half- marathon. Maybe next year, I'll have a faster pace. I don't really care about that now. I got a T-Shirt, a number, and a fine memory. Let me blow it up nice and big for ya!

Define Panic - and a new way to process it

This morning started well enough for a bad night of sleep. Got the kids' lunches packed, drove them to school and headed to the Greenway for a lovely pre-writing walk with the dog. The weather was beautiful: warm sun on my face, light breeze at my back, darker rain clouds visible but far off to the west, over the blue ridge mountains.

This is a great time for my brain to settle down after a weekend of single parenting, lessons, Nutcracker rehearsals, and a few household chores. With the dog fully exercised, I was ready to shower and get to work on more video editing and book writing with a nice hot cup of pumpkin flavored coffee.

Then I saw it. The flier from the kids' school about the Thanksgiving luncheon. My son said yesterday he thought the luncheon was Monday. I said,

"Excuse me!? I'm the one who reads the stuff that comes home in the family envelopes. Do you?"

He let it go. Wished he hadn't. I would have been forced to find the flier yesterday to prove him wrong - only to find out how right he was. This is the same luncheon for which I had been working with the girls scouts on all the decorations for the past three weeks. It wasn't so much the schedule of the luncheon. I also volunteered to roast one of the Turkeys. ACK!!!!!

I turned the oven on to 500 degrees. Thank goodness the turkey had been thawing the fridge since last Friday. I knew the time would be tight. This one actually had me stumped. More than likely, if was the loss of my wits as much as my sense of calm.

I had trouble falling / staying asleep last night as I waited for Steve to arrive from another weekend trip to Detroit. After I put the kids to bed, I was flipping between the American Music Awards and the FOOD TV network - my comfort channel. Last night, a group of Chef/Personalities were doing a "Thanksgiving Live" with opportunity for viewers to call, email, skype and tweet/FB cooking questions. None of the suggestions were about panic cooking times for forgetful mommies.

To the internets!

Many of my Facebook and Twitter friends (mostly the guys - interesting....) offered suggestions for local stores that might have one ready to go. One friend who owns a restaurant even offered to help. (What a sweetie, Kristophor Sandholm at Starfish Restaurant!!) I found out that buying a cooked turkey at a local store would still mean I'd have to heat it up for 45 minutes and carve it.

My friend, Hillary Kwiatek suggested cutting the turkey like a chicken and hoping for the best. (Sensible, mommy cook Twitter friend). I thought I remembered something like that on Chopped; except it was duck... Whatever. I backed the heat down to 400 and hacked through the bird, really wishing I can a huge horror movie-like meat cleaver. It wasn't pretty.

Drizzled olive oil over all the parts, generously salted and peppered and shoved it in the oven.

After about 90 minutes, the internal temp finally reached 165. I left the turkey on the stove to let it rest while I showered. While rinsing the shampoo, I had visions of Buddy becoming of the Bumpuses' dogs. (Name that movie reference) I jumped out of the shower - trail of water and soap to the kitchen to see a confused sleepy-eyed pooch lounging on the living room couch. (Really need curtains on the windows, btw)

Dry. Dress. Time to "carve/hack/destroy" what I hoped would be edible.

By golly that turkey was juicy and delicious. Sliced, with a little bit of the juices poured over it, I drove it to school still wearing my apron. The luncheon had started, but I brought in my turkey just in the knick of time - almost as if planned.

This Thanksgiving, I'm grateful to my friends who know how my hand needs to be held. I'm thankful for social media; once again keeping me laughing at myself. I'm also grateful for the FoodTV network. The hours I invested in that truly paid off.

Is 12:30pm on a Monday too soon to drink a glass of wine?

Two Pictures from Thursday

I haven't posted in a while. And I really do miss it.
I miss being able to record thoughts and worries.
I miss being able to dig deep into memories to archive them for the stories I know my kids are going to want to read.
I miss giving myself the time to reflect, to purge, and to be grateful for the ability to write, access the internet and share things in this way....

While I don't have enough time at the moment to write something meaningful, I have something fun to share. Just two pictures of objects taken from the day.

Last one, first. This is an image of a "portrait" taken after a lecture to complement the "Andy in the Valley" exhibition at the Lehigh University Art Galleries yesterday. One of our local newspapers put up a few of the photos of the exhibit. If you click through them, you'll see two that show athletes posing for their polaroid portrait with the objects of their sport. The lecturer had mentioned the challenges of taking these portraits of a camera that "focuses with your feet." I didn't remember the Polaroid camera being as bulky and big as the one Warhol used - but seeing that impressed me even more with his work.

Anyhoo - the audience had a chance to get their portraits taken, thanks to Dan's Camera. Lucky, I had a couple of my "identifiable objects" with me:

I have to add, these "objects" sat quietly for the hour long lecture. Of course, we cheated a little. I usually reward them with ipad/iphone games about 30 minutes after sitting still. I also told them that if they behaved, they could have an extra dessert. Knowing that receptions usually follow these events, I figured and extra Lehigh brownie wouldn't kill them. 

To our delight, the reception was a clever selection of food based on the exhibit. Hat's off to Denise Stangle, the operations director for the galleries. She worked with the campus catering to get hamburger sliders, corn dogs, tomato soup shooters and root beer floats! Who knew the kids would be getting dinner? (#winning!) Only one mishap. Another missed text from Steve, who ordered Chinese food not knowing the kids ate their fill of mini corn dogs. I counted 13 toothpicks for Lady B. 

One of the sweetest things, was my son getting me a cup of hot water. Knowing it was his failed adventure at the reception, I gladly took the gift from a boy who is learning how to get his mommy a drink without my asking. Good boy.

The next object of love came from one of the girl scouts, just before we all ran out of the school to get to the art lecture on time. It's little pieces like this that make all of the effort and late nights planning activities for the girls so worth it.

Sensitivity Training Required

They must not get trained in the police academy. It always seems to me that officers (and meter maids) are taken aback by curt responses when they give a ticket to somebody who has let their PA license (or parking meter) expire.

Yesterday afternoon, for the fourth (I kid you not, FOURTH) time, I was pulled over for an expired license plate. I knew as soon as the lights went on. He didn't need to rev up the siren on a beautiful weather Friday. He must have felt a small desire to add a little excitement in his day.

I've let my darling husband manage all of the bill paying. It's part of the unspoken agreement between us. We've fallen into gender role assignments of household management:

I assume most of the planning of the kids' after school activities and transportation to them. He has traditional work hours, but often stays home with the kids after dinner when I need to get to a committee meeting or back on campus to meet with students, or to catch up on work that I can't do at home.

I make the weekly dinner menu and compile the grocery list. He opens the mail and keeps track of mortgage, insurance, regular bill payment, and our bank account.

I keep the kitchen in order, and do most of the cooking. He occasionally cooks, and puts things in the wrong drawers.

I walk the dog. I make him clean the cat's litter box.

I make sure the kids' clothes are cleaned and put away. He mows the lawn.

I yell at the kids about putting their toys away. He takes care of the accumulated crap in the gutters.

I don't know if this is an equitable sharing of the mundane, the minutia. But when he goes out of town for a weekend, I have to do it all. I don't mind it - I know there is an end to it. He comes back. I've gotten used to him being tired for a week after his trip. His contributions to the home are limited even when he gets back. But he does eventually find the energy to take care of things.

I wonder why I expect him to "just take care of it." It's totally unfair of me to expect my husband to just do it. So it's not right for me to be angry that the expired license plate caused another $110.50 ticket.

Yet, the patronizing attitude of the police officer, who has no idea that my overworked husband is sitting by his mother's death bed, is shocked that I dispensed with the "niceties" while he kept me waiting 7 minutes (my son is waiting alone in my office, while I dropped my daughter to ballet class and decided to make a quick run to the Wawa to put free air in the two week old back right tire, and to fill a gas tank that I've been driving on fumes for two days) to write out the ticket, and then proceed to explain to me that I had only until midnight to get it updated or I'd get another ticket tomorrow.

Seriously?  I think I have a radar that tells cops to pull me over when Steve is out of town. Because I'm already on edge with worry.

And I wish I could write about all the reasons why I'm afraid of these weekends....

I'm holding back the fantasy of telling the cop to "bite me" and have him pull me out of the car and beat me with his club because I've become irrationally angry about these stupid Pennsylvania laws and taxes, and yet my car still requires new tires on a faster rotation than any other state I've lived in.

My head spins when Steve goes out of town. Even for the fun weekends.

Nonna perked up a little yesterday, but it was only for a short time. Steve didn't sleep much last night. There was as much as 20 seconds between breaths. All but one of his 6 siblings are there. Number 7 comes in tomorrow, when he plans on driving back home - unless his mother lets go by then.

Nonna is still with us as of this morning. Steve is staying at her side, and trying to help with legal matters or just assessing what needs to be fixed in her house.

I have to walk the dog, mow the lawn, buy new ballet shoes for my son and a new ballet bun holder for my daughter - thanks to an anxious and under-exercised dog that chewed the old one last night, even though it was on the dining room table and he managed to pull it down. Then it's off to a couple of hours of back to back Nutcracker rehearsals, and a run through HarvestFest to support the downtown businesses. Maybe I'll find a nice gift for my mom's very belated birthday.

Maybe I'll find a bottle of magic elixir that will calm my nerves about the state of chaos that I see in my home. No wait, I've already got one. It's called Tullamore Dew.

Is it time for an intervention?

To say that I'm dedicated to my work is perhaps the understatement of the week. In trying to capture a screen shot of my week, I could only fit the afternoon/evening schedule in to give you an idea:

Yes, it's packed. But I see a few things missing of things that I did on the fly. 

When the kids were younger, we did a nightly prayer that went like this:

God bless Mommy, God bless Daddy, God bless Bridget, God bless Stephen.

God bless Grandma, God bless Nonna.

God bless all of our aunts and uncles, and all of our cousins and friends,

and all of our friends and relatives in heaven who watch over us.

Especially Grandpa and Papa.

If they needed a little extra calming time, we'd list all the aunts, uncles and cousins by name. When we'd finally hit the pets, I'd ask them to think of their favorite part of the day. 

My review of this day is that I feel like I'm staying on top of things pretty well. Obligations to the celtic festival are being met. I'm attentive to my search committee duties (I'm not carrying the most of the work, like the chair of the search committee, but it still adds to the schedule), and I'm still moving on a whole bunch of initiatives (a.k.a, crazy ideas) that are coming along nicely.

One great part of the day was bringing an artist (David Kincaid) to the local public radio station for an on air interview. Artists like David are why I do what I do. David's musicianship and research are very interesting. On air, he was engaging and articulate. He's the kind of person I could listen to for hours. Unfortunately, the interview wasn't recorded. I hope that the people I introduced him to were as intrigued by his work as I am so that I can figure out a way to meet a new goal: to bring together an audience that is as deeply engaged with his work as I am. I know it would be a great moment for the audience as much as it would be for the artist - and that's why I do what I do.

There's only one thing missing from a really good day. I didn't tuck the kids in tonight. In fact, I haven't been home to tuck the kids in now for a few days: only 3 out of the last eleven days have been spent home at night. I'm sure Steve is about to force an intervention on my work addiction.

This work (and all of it's peripheral connections) is so much a part of me that sometimes I can't help but do it. Looking ahead in my calendar, the next night I'll be able to tuck them in is a week from tonight. While Steve is very supportive and doesn't complain too loudly that I'm overly extended, I worry that the kids won't understand.

October will be better. The search committee tasks should be done. The festival will be a memory. 

Next month, I'll pull back on time away from home. I'll start making their Halloween costumes. I'll finish some of the home purging projects. I'll play games with the kids. And I'll start my morning runs again.

Or maybe Buddy (the dog) will start to chew on my iPad if I don't return back to being some of the mom I was this summer.

I still got it

I'm lucky to have friends with a brand new baby. Every once in a while, they let me hold him. When Austin is in my arms, I get to remember what it felt like when my babies were that size.

Tonight was very special. Austin was in a really mellow mood. Early on in the visit, he expelled on both ends. I knew that he shouldn't be sitting in the messy diaper for too long, so I asked if I could change it. Even when I changed his diaper (yes, I changed his diaper and his mom was super cool about it), he didn't ramp up into overdrive with his usual dislike for the routine. Predictably, he openly peed during his exposed time. I didn't catch it. So I even had to change his shirt. Austin found peanuts in both sleeves (that's how I started talking to my babies to get their hands through). I even got the burrito wrap around his feet and scooped him back up before he got his legs kicked out.

While Amy (that's Austin's really cool mom, BTW) prepared his bottle, I actually got him to calm down by doing a little movement and singing. For the life of me, all of the baby songs were out of my memory. I couldn't even sing a theme from the Beethoven symphony I played the night before at orchestra. But a little made up Irish tune seemed to work. Seems that Austin might be excited that the Celtic Classic is coming up in a week.

He ate slowly and steadily. And only had one dry burp. I thought I could lay him down in his bassinet, because he was doing so well. I could have held him for a lot longer. But I needed to get home to my kids and my poor husband who has been staying at home while I go galavanting around town to the various things I do.

It's such a simple thing, holding a baby. The moment made me look forward to the next two nights when I have no commitments or plans to leave the house. I will happily stay home with my family. We'll make home made pizza, blast some microwave popcorn, and cuddle on the couch to a movie of their choice. But I'll be hoping to watch some Karate Kid (Jackie Chan, remake)

Tomorrow is going to be a great day. I can't wait for the time I'll get to spend with my own.