The more things change...

...the more things change. It's really the only thing we can count on, isn't it? I mean, people say death and taxes, but I like to look on the bright side and say that the only thing we can count on is change. And boy, how things have changed for our little family in the last couple of years.

We certainly aren't settled into our new normal of homeschooling days, along with big kid and tween issues.  Yet, a lot has changed since the days of babies and toddlers needing feeding/wiping/dressing/helping, and the barely-holding-it-together couple under the strain of three preschoolers, a budget as tight as a vice, and a to do list driving us to collapse into bed after midnight laundry folding frenzies.

I sometimes wonder how I haven't exactly figured out how to be an adult in the last 20 years. I mean, what have I been doing with my time? But looking back, I barely had time to go to the bathroom. Much less figure out the meaning of life, organize my entire house and become a screaming success at my life's calling (if I even knew what that was). And I'm not feeling too bad about that at the moment. (I do have the other kind of moments, but not right now.)

You know those cool (or lame, whatever) glitter time out jars some moms make for their kids? (Or am I just spending way too much time on Pinterest?) Well, if you haven't seen one, it's a jar with some sort of liquid and glitter in it. Kid gets in trouble, mom shakes the jar, kid has to sit in time out until glitter settles to the bottom so they have time to calm down. OK, this explanation is way too long for the analogy I'm trying to draw here...

But really, life isn't like the glitter time out jar. It's not like the murky, glittery lack of clarity clears itself up in a matter of 12 minutes. It is clearing up, and the murk is settling to the bottom. I mean, I was thinking today of how little memory I have of when my babies were infants. The exhaustion, the overwhelming responsibility and confusion, the exhaustion....it's like a huge cloud covers my memories.

And even at "my age," it's not all clear. But ya know what? It's a heck of a lot clearer than it was when my kiddos were babies. In fact, looking back at the things I was writing just eighteen months ago, it's clearer now than it was then. And even if it's still not clear, even if it never gets totally clear, it's still all glitter. It's still all beauty, totally worth waiting for, and so amazingly delightful to look at. 

Our First Day of School

It is an exciting time at our house. Tomorrow is the first day of school. We didn't go to bed early. We didn't set an alarm. We didn't lay out outfits with new jeans or tennis shoes. We didn't fill backpacks with new pencils, notebooks, glue sticks and crayons. We didn't pack lunch boxes with peanut butter sandwiches and Cheetos. Tomorrow we start our first day of home school.

My excitement is mixed with so many other emotions. Worry—will I be able to do this? Manage three kids, be home with them all day, stay organized enough, not loose my mind? Sadness—missing the regular and easy contact with our school friends (mine too), including the amazing teachers our kids had, who I became friends with. Relief—no testing anxiety to manage, no bullying to worry about, no calls to teachers and principals asking why the heck my kid is crying over whatever craziness happened at school that day.

I have no doubt the kids are having some mixed emotions too, but I am so grateful that they all three said, "I can't wait for school to start tomorrow, Mom." Not one single sigh when I laid out before them my plan for the week. Not a hint of whine in a single voice when I reminded there would be no Minecraft from 8 to 3. I know I'm the adult, but either by instinct or by chance, they seem to be letting me take it easy on this one. And however it's happening, I am grateful. 

Vacation Packing

We are going on our second ever family trip to the beach this year. Together with another family, we have rented a beach house so the packing part is a little different than packing for a hotel stay. And by different I mean more complicated. Vastly. At least for the organizationally impaired like me.

So while I've been making lists of things to pack, things to cook, things to ask the other mom, things to purchase, things to remember....I decided it would be a good idea to make individual packing lists for each kid so that he or she can A) pack their own *@&^#$ stuff and B) learn to pack effectively for themselves, a skill my husband seems to have bypassed entirely in his upbringing. No offense to my dear mother-in-law, but it is impossible for my husband to travel for work or pleasure to any location without a nearby Walmart, or he will undoubtedly end up hungry, unshaven, unwashed, unkempt, and commando within 24 hours of his arrival.

For the clothes, I plan to have the kids put each of their complete outfits in a gallon size ziplock bag. This will hopefully help them get dressed each morning without wails of, "Moooooooom, I can't find my underwear!!!!!" Hopefully, it will also mean that we have agreed ahead of time on their fashion choices and will avoid at least one potential conflict during our trip. (Not that I usually care if my daughter wears her yellow striped dress with floral turquoise leggings and an orange sweater.)

Of course, I will need to supervise and double-check their efforts, but I am hoping the skills they will learn and the slightly lightened to-do list for myself will make it worthwhile nonetheless. One small note: while some may find it unnecessary, being the mom of a girl who loves shoes and clothes as much as her mama, I created gender specific lists. I'm sure the need for this is something my husband would like to point out as a shortcoming of my upbringing, but this is my blog so too bad. Besides, I'm pretty sure my mom scares him. Hee hee.....

Oh wait, one MORE thing: these lists are for a one week vacation at a house where we can do laundry as necessary. I tried to balance taking as little stuff as we could get away with along with my desire to do as little work as possible, seeing as it's my vacation and all. I included enough clothes to get through most of the week, expecting to do a couple of loads of laundry before heading home again.

Boys' Beach Packing List

_____Casual shorts, t-shirt, underwear

_____Casual shorts, t-shirt, underwear

_____Casual shorts, t-shirt, underwear

_____Casual shorts, t-shirt, underwear

_____Nice shorts, polo or nice t-shirt, underwear

_____Nice shorts, polo, underwear

_____T-shirt (2 extras)

_____Socks (2 pair)

_____Pajamas (shorts--2 pair)

_____Hoodie

_____Swimming trunks (2-3 pair)

_____Swimming shirt (only if you want one)

_____Your beach towel

_____Flip flops

_____Tennis shoes

_____Beach shoes

_____Toothbrush

_____One small stuffed animal

_____Journal and pencil

_____Books to read (4-5)

_____Sunglasses

_____Hat and/or sun visor

Girl's Beach Packing List

_____Shorts/skort, shirt and underwear

_____Shorts/skort, shirt and underwear

_____Shorts, shirt and underwear

_____Shorts, shirt and underwear

_____Capris, shirt and underwear

_____Casual dress and underwear

_____Casual dress and underwear

_____Nicer dress (like for dinner at a restaurant) and underwear

_____Swimming suits (2-3)

_____Cover-up (2)

_____Socks (2 pair)

_____Pajamas or nightgown (2)

_____Hoodie

_____Flip flops

_____Tennis shoes

_____Beach shoes

_____Beach towel

_____Brush and comb

_____Toothbrush

_____Headbands (2-3)

_____Ponytail holders (10-12)

_____Journal, pencils and crayons

_____One small stuffed animal

_____Books (4-5)

_____Sunglasses

_____Hat and/or sun visor

Any glaring omissions? Horribly overpacking? (So says my husband--HA!) Setting my sights way too high? I really think the nine and almost-seven year olds can handle most of this after I show them what I expect. I am fully aware that most of the packing for the five year old will involve her pointing to what she likes and me putting what she really needs into the bag. Oh well. You gotta start somewhere.

Pot Roast Success

I consider myself a pretty good cook. I'm no gourmet, but my husband has mostly liked everything I've ever made except that one horrible Buffalo chicken sandwich experiment in 2001. No recipe intimidates me, and no ingredient scares me off. But....I've never been so good at pot roast. I've been told over and over how simple it is, but it never turns out as tender or flavorful as I want. Until now.

I have seen several versions of the Three Envelope Pot Roast on Pinterest and intended to try it out. Yet, did I take the recipe or a list of ingredients to the grocery store with me? NO, of course not. So, I am standing in the spice isle trying to figure out which three packets of seasoning I'm supposed to use for the Three Envelope Pot Roast, and I'm getting nowhere. Due to my aging and overwhelmed brain, the best I could do was a brown gravy mix and au jus mix. I knew there was a third, but looking at my options, none of them made sense.

Arriving home, I discovered several different versions. Some using au jus. Some using brown gravy. Several using other things I had not brought home from the grocery. So, I decided to use what I had. I put it all in my slow cooker, turned it to low for about 9 hours and hoped for the best.

It turned out the most tender, flavorful, delicious pot roast I have every had. Not just made, but HAD. And I'm going to share it with you. I'm nice like that.

I ended up serving it on Hawaiian rolls with a slice of provolone cheese and a little squirt of horseradish. HOLY YUM. It would be equally as good next to a pile of real homemade mashed potatoes. Or some lovely egg noodles.

My Favorite Pot Roast

1 large onion (a sweet one is nice, but whatever you have)
1 chuck roast (3-4 lbs)
1 packet of au jus mix
1 packet of brown gravy mix
1/2 cup water
1/2 cup salsa or picante sauce
1 cup Italian dressing

Chop onion and place in bottom of slow cooker. Place roast on top of onions. Mix remaining ingredients in a bowl until seasonings are combined and pour over roast. Cook on low for 8-10 hours. When you shove a fork in it and twist, it should fall apart. If it doesn't, cook a while longer.

Taste. And die of bliss. I warned you.

Getting Ready for Summer Weekend

I am still in my pajamas. At 10 AM on a Saturday. It feels delightful and odd all at once. The last ten  weeks worth of Saturday mornings have been filled with early risings, frantic searches for shin pads and soccer jerseys, and sitting in alternately sweltering and swampy fields watching children chase a ball back and forth.

We had strawberry pie for breakfast. Additionally, there are 21 jars of jam and mounds of sliced berries awaiting the top of waffles or shortcake in the freezer, made from the 34 pounds of berries we picked over the last week.

My sweet children, who would normally be absorbed in mind-rotting Saturday morning TV, are upstairs playing school together (in other words, reading to each other) so they can earn points for our library's summer reading program. They have declared it a no-screen weekend so that they can get a jump on everyone else who is hoping to win the grand prize iPad.

My vegetables are glistening in the morning sun, drenched from yesterday's rain, soaking up the rays so fast I feel like if I just hold still enough I can see them growing. The middle child and I picked and shelled the spring peas earlier this week, and broccoli is ready to harvest.

Yes, summer is upon us. There are three more slow but bittersweet days of school left for the kids. Slow because the real work of the year has been done for over a week now. Sad and sweet because next year the schools are changing, and they won't be in the same building together. Plus, a whole new group of students will be joining them both making all of us anxious. But that's another story.

While the kids have declared a no-screen weekend, I am declaring it Get Ready for Summer Weekend. I am doing some cleaning--as if it will last past bedtime on Sunday. I am doing some cooking. Some things to prepare now and tuck away in the freezer so I won't be forced to drag myself out of the pool and into the kitchen to worry about dinner every afternoon. I am getting the kids summer supplies ready. (More on that later.) We are all going to sit down together and make a list of the things we must do this summer.

With three kids and a mama, if everyone comes up with two or three things they really want to do this summer, we will have plenty to keep us busy until fall. The kids usually pick one thing that I just can't accommodate at the moment, like "I want to go Australia."  Um yeah, you and me both, kiddo. But generally, their picks are a lot more simple than I expect. Things that are not expensive or difficult to do but I wouldn't have thought of because I was planning something much more extravagant.

My crazy, over-the-top mama mind says, "Plan a virtual trip to a different country each week, cook foods from that country, and get a book on the country from the library to read each day." Their youthful wisdom says, "Make popsicles and invite our friends over to have some with us. Then run around the yard chasing each other," or "Find some worms."

It reminds me how important it is to ask them. Our summer go so fast, our school year is so busy, that I want our short, precious time together to be memorable to them, to include the things that are important to them, to be relaxed and carefree like summer should be. And I am so much less stressed out about making it meaningful when I use their ideas instead of mine.

I love summer. 

Memories

It's strange how suddenly a crystal clear memory of a time you haven't thought of in months or years will suddenly come rushing back for no good reason.

Like the elderly man at the garage sale who gave my younger boy the money clip he had been admiring. I offered him a dollar for it, and of course he turned around and gave the dollar to Aiden so he would have something to put in his money clip.

His rough, nobby hands, his generosity, his unhurried way of talking to the children brought me right back to moments with my Grandpa pulling out his wallet to hand us a $20 dollar bill for our latest report card. That poor man at the garage sale probably wondered if it was safe to let those children go with the crazy lady who couldn't seem to stop crying over a dollar.

He's been gone 20 years, and yet there are plenty of moments when I can feel him around me, reminding me of the kind of person he expects me to be, encouraging me to be the mama he knows I can be, to nudge me in the direction I know I should be going.

Mommyhood Gratitude

Like everyone else, I have some days when I feel more competent at accomplishing all of the things I am responsible for and some days that I feel less competent. Usually, I feel pretty competent. Lately, I've had quite a few less-competent feeling days in a row. I was grousing (is that really a word? well, let's say for today that it is) to myself that I wish I could sit on the couch all day (who am I kidding? I meant all week), watch daytime TV and eat a whole bag of Devils Food Donettes.

But instead I have these three children who require food. And bathing. And car pools. And clean laundry. And picking up after. And permission slips signed. And on and on. But tonight, as I was brushing my teeth, scowling at myself in the mirror, and wondering where all those wrinkles came from, I had the thought that perhaps I am not burdened by the requirement to pull myself up off the couch and take care of my children. Instead, I am blessed by presence of a reason not to wallow in my self-doubt.

It doesn't really matter if I feel like it; these children need raised. And it's not going to wait until next week when I may or may not feel like opening another bag of donuts and plopping down in front of Rachel Ray and Dr. Oz.

There's only going to be one chance to give my goofy, grinning eight-year-old boy the Harry Potter birthday party of his dreams so I better get to crafting, shopping and cooking sooner rather than later. There's only going to be a few more months to have my darling four-year-old tell me about her preschool day in her baby-like lisp before she has grown out of it for good, so I better sit up and listen right now. There is only a small window when a sweet six-year-old boy will want to sit on my lap and read me a story with his newly discovered skills before reading starts to happen all in his head and before he outgrows my lap all together, so I best pay attention to it right now while I can.

Parenting is hard work and exhausting, but is there anything better? Is there anything more worth it? No, of course not. And even more, it is a reason to get moving and do what I know needs to be done. To be more than I want to be on some days. To be a better person than I think I am.