My First

So what's the occasion? Have I been blogging for a year? Nope. Am I at my 100th post? Are you kidding me? I'll get there sometime next year (I have about 70).

The celebration is that one year ago I first started reading blogs. And all of you have added a lot to my life. Kept my mind busy. Learned lots. Made me laugh, and also made me reflect.

This morning I stopped into Starbucks to get a latte and a muffin for my son's teacher whose birthday was today. I didn't know what she liked but I have read on other blogs how many people are enjoying a pumpkin spice latte. So I bought one for her (and a muffin) and one for me. It was 7:00 a.m. and normally I am not out of the house this early. Normally I have a couple cups of Dunkin Donuts coffee at home starting at 7:30 a.m.

So I get to the school and the teacher was thrilled and Hubs and I had a conf about Youngest son and I sip my latte, and ......wth....Yuck! I did not like it all! I guess I was expecting coffee with a little flavor. Anyway I only drank half of it and then I went back home and made some regular coffee. And felt kind of sick until lunchtime. So I guess I am just not with it. Or maybe it was something to be sipped at night with a good book or chick flick and not at 7:15 a.m. in a little kid chair at a little kid table.

But clearly I am in the minority on this and even though my cup of pumpkin brew got trashed, perhaps it is your treasure. So I want to give a caffeine-addicted reader a $10 gift card to:
But wait, there's more!

I want to make you a necklace. I have this green one that I can give you (I have all of the same materials to make another one):
(how do you like the model here wearing my necklace? I had a photo of myself wearing it from when I posted about this necklace in August but two out of three boys just told me that I didn't look so great in that photo after I asked them).

Or, if green is not your thing I can make you one like it but in a different color.

Or if you have boys I can send you a boy necklace. This was is in brown "natural" colors and my 13 year old wears it sometimes (and I have all the same materials on this one too to make another for you). He's told his friends, "My mom made me this necklace" and they say, "Oh cool". (That is the extent of their conversations. Seriously, you should hear them on the phone -- the calls are over and done with in 5 seconds).
So here's the deal: leave me one comment on this post by Saturday, November 28 (midnight). On Sunday I will draw a name and announce the winner. Tell me in your comment what time on Thursday you'll be eating your Thanksgiving dinner. And at whose home?

P.S. Here I am at age 13--and I loved talking on the phone. My hair wasn't this blonde--it's just the light.

Sisterhood of the Traveling Pad

About a year ago I discovered the joys of reading blogs. And a few months after that I started my own. I don’t write in my blog as often as I wish I would and I am working on making that change. But I sure do read. I really, really love to read your blogs. And one thing about me is that I remember just about everything you write.

One of the first blogs I discovered a year ago is Laura from My Life is a Piece of Cake. She makes me laugh about her life in L.A. with her four (I mean 134) kids and her gorgeous cake making skills and her big heart. One day her words can make you laugh and the next, can make you cry.

Anyway, back to my incredible memory. A couple months ago Laura wrote a funny post (click on the blue) about a woman who uses homemade menstrual pads and lots of comments followed. And then a couple of weeks ago she received a (joke) gift in the mail from one of her readers and Laura asked us other readers to guess who sent it and to guess what the gift was (click on the blue for her post). I knew right away who sent it because I’m all stalkerish in my memory-skillz ability of what blogs Laura likes to read. And then it took a couple of tries but I guessed what the gift was.

Her gift was this pretty menstrual pad (but in pink and brown) and Laura listed many possible uses for it (except not to really use it as intended). I told Laura I didn’t need a prize for guessing but that she should send me the pad and we’d call it the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pad. Laura asked her readers if they thought it sounded like a good idea and they did (click on the blue for her post). It will be mailed from woman to woman, perhaps with a journal, and with a place for you to post. But not to use it.

We're making plans for this pad...... So let me know your thoughts and then stay tuned because like Laura wrote -- the pad can be coming to your pad soon.

Daily Desserts

I am powerless in a household of boys who love desserts—just anything sweet—they are not discerning most of the time. They are this way because of Hubs, I’m sure. He has to have something sweet to eat at night. It seems whenever we go out to eat, before we get home he mentions how he needs some dessert. I think that 98% of the time after eating out we don’t go home until we’ve walked through the grocery store for cookies or ice cream (see, it does not have to be special—just dessert).

Let’s back up to how we were each raised. When I was growing up there was not dessert every night of the week, nor was it served as part of the meal. If we were having a regular dinner or a special holiday meal, we would clear away the dishes and then leave the dining area and relax for a long time before venturing back to get dessert. Or—and this is a key detail—if there was a box of cookies it would last. Or if there was pudding my brother and I would know which ramekin was ours—it would remain in the fridge for a couple days till we ate our own.

On the other hand my Hubs is the youngest of 6 kids. Dessert was made and brought out EVERY night, immediately after dinner. And everyone would eat it then and there on top of dinner, because if you waited till later it would be gone. I have been a daughter-in-law for 22 years and this still amazes me. No sooner is the last bite of dinner swallowed and my mother-in-law brings out more dishes and silverware and three different varieties of dessert to the table. I am always asked what I want for dessert and I always reply, “I am too stuffed now but maybe later, thanks!” And I’ll chat of course and help clean of course but I just can’t enjoy dessert until I have digested dinner.

Have I mentioned I was really slim when I got married? There I’d go to the grocery store and buy a week’s worth of groceries including dessert stuff. And Hubs would proceed to dig into it, within an hour back from the store, completely clashing with my concept of making food last a week.

And eventually we had our three boys and like clones they are dessert lovers too, asking about it just about every night. Many times I say good-naturedly, “Wait—do we need to have a dessert EVERY night?” (and Hubs will say, "And the problem would be????") and we all laugh. It’s only when we eat dinner on the late side and there’s only time for showers and bedtime that no one is looking for dessert.

Except this past week, no one asked me about dessert. The Breyer's chocolare chip ice cream has been untouched in the freezer. And here is the trash can that is located next to just one boy's bed:
Halloween candy gives me a week off of keeping the cupboards stocked with dessert!

Full Beaver Moon

So today is officially the full moon. I almost forgot since it is just a Monday and at 6:00 p.m. I am normally inside whipping up dinner. But with the time change I was getting home and saw the incredible moon glowing yellow against the sky. I pulled in the driveway, ran inside to get my camera and drove up the street to get a good shot. Batteries were dead. Back home, rinse, repeat. And I am so getting a new camera because why is this shot so dark??!! It's called the Full Beaver Moon because this is the time to set beaver traps before the streams freeze over to ensure a winter of warm furs.
(After a beaver coat was about 5 years old it became the perfect fur for a beaver hat--they sold tons of these in England in the 1800's).

I never knew until this past summer how significant fur trapping and trading was to our country's Western Expansion. I never knew till this year that the Gateway Arch in St. Louis represented where Western Expansion began with the Lewis and Clark Expedition. I never knew that Sacagawea's son, Jean Baptiste, went to live in St. Louis with William Clark when he was 6 years old and when he was 18 he toured Europe for 6 years. Once back in the U.S. he became a fur trapper. I guess you cannot take the mountain out of the man.

But back to my drive home at 6:00 p.m. Apparently this neighbor was a very busy beaver today:
(It's November 2nd and they are lit for the Christmas Holidays).

Spongebob says, "I'm Ready, I'm Ready"

I hope everyone is having a wonderful Halloween weekend. I ate all of the roasted pumpkin seeds out of this pumpkin. For the first time in history I took the boys trick or treating with friends while Hubs stayed home. And no one came to our house (not many kids on our street and so the kids go to another 'hood) so no one but us and y'all got to see Spongebob on a pumpkin.

But more candy for me. Oh, and I purposely waited until today to buy candy and bought 5 bags from Target along with my usual week's worth of stuff. Then saw an accident in the Target parking lot in the pouring rain. No one hurt, but a big crash at the end of my aisle with a car plowing into the side of a van.

Due to the rain tonight I couldn't see the almost full moon--did anyone see it? It is officially the full moon on Monday night. And a full extra hour of sleep tomorrow. Yes!(mine are the escaped convict, the werewolf and the Gator Fan).

Time and Tide of the Hormones

Except for bad weather, on Sunday mornings my husband and I walk alone together about 1.5 miles to a gas station and buy the Sunday paper. Once back home I make coffee, cook a big breakfast, throw the kids the sports section, Best Buy and Sports Authority and Target flyers and shoo them out of the kitchen so that we can have some quiet time and not hear the oldest two constantly contradicting each other.

This past Sunday it felt too cold and Hubs said he would drive to get the paper (we only get the Sunday paper and no longer subscribe to it thinking it would be some exercise we could do together). That was fine with me and I lounged around with coffee, folding laundry, picking up messes, the usual.

After about 25 MINUTES it suddenly occurred to me that driving 1.5 miles and back would have taken a lot less time than this and where was he? Of course he left his cell phone on the counter at home. I waited 5 minutes with my heart beating faster. I stood in the garage and looked up the street. He had taken our 3rd vehicle: a very small, older truck that replaced the bigger truck that combusted last year. I then heard sirens possibly several blocks away and panicked. I imagined that a bigger vehicle collided with him in an intersection. I ran in the house and up to the bedroom to fling off my pink and purple fuzzy socks, change out of my flannel pajama bottoms and threw on a sweatshirt over my t-shirt to cover up my breastesses because I was convinced that I would need to look halfway presentable as I was going to surely come upon a wreck and then have to get out of my car.

In just a couple of minutes I had all these thoughts: I cannot possibly deal with life without him—I cannot raise these 3 boys alone—I cannot cope with my upper-generational family without his rational support—I cannot possibly have this happen to us. I think years ago once at night I got scared like this. But this was not a usual feeling, definitely not a routine for me to freak out like this. Truth be told, I recall a couple years ago being so mad at him that I wished he’d go away. What a roller-coaster marriage can be. Anyway, one out of three boys was awake but down in the basement so I just yelled something about being back shortly.

I backed out of the driveway and headed down the street. Here comes Hubs in the little, old truck. We both slow down. We stop and lower our windows. He has a puzzled smile such as, “Were you really looking for me, but maybe you have some other reason to be flying down the road with your hair still in last night’s ponytail and no lip gloss.”

I told him I thought he was smooshed in an intersection because surely it didn’t take this long to get the Sunday paper. Well he had decided to go to Home Depot as well and beat the weekend traffic. So we both pulled our cars back into the driveway and continued on with our Sunday routine.

So you know what’s going on with me? It’s hormones. They are a-changin. For a month now, especially in the mornings and evenings, I will get a flush of heat across my back and arms. I’ll wake up in the a.m. and not even care that Hubs has all the covers pulled off of me because I don’t need them at all. I have a sister-in-law (SIL) who is about 8 years older than I am. Well I have several of them—I am sure we’ll have lots of conversations on this at Thanksgiving. Anyway I remember a few years back (before I could relate) that she was insane with worries. She had a new licensed daughter driving and when my SIL would hear sirens she’d freak and with her hospital job would hear of a young driver accident victim arriving in the ER and panic.

The other day I said out loud at home, “Oh my gosh I’m so hotttt!!!” and my 13 yr old turned around and said, “What?” And I said, “You know how your hormones are changing because you are going through puberty and so your systems are revving up and trying to figure out the right chemical balance for your growing body???? Well mine did too once but now 35 years later my hormones are all changing again which happens when you get older!!!”” (I really need to pick my audience better).

And this is going to take years, people. I think I am going to be pre-menopausal for years. And guess who will be a new driver in the house in about 2.5 years? And then another son will be driving 20 months after that. And then another 2.8 years after him. I'd better keep my gas tank full and my tennis shoes ready for all the panic-driven stunts I have yet to do. (photo found under Google Images under "premenopausal woman)

The Yard Crew

As I mentioned this past spring my husband loves working in the yard. But not so much that he won’t share in the tasks. Tradition has developed that when our sons are in 5^th grade they are taught how to mow the lawn. And then in 6^th grade you get taught how to edge the lawn. When I say "you get taught" I mean that the Hubs provides the lessons because I have never mowed a lawn in my life. The two oldest boys are now in 8^th and 6^th grade so now we have two lawn-mowing yard boys.

Hubs says he really enjoys the yard work but teaching the boys to do the lawn mowing frees him up for flowers and projects. He says he would have taught our daughters the same chore if we had girls. And we don't have tall or beefy boys--in 5th grade they are 4'8" or less. My now 8th grader is still under 5 feet.

In his summer before 6^th grade we suggested to my oldest son that since he had many months experience in mowing our front and back lawn and since he would love to have money for new video games, that he should go door-to-door and talk to the neighbors about his providing lawn services for them. Our neighbors within “walking-with-the-lawnmower distance” consist of a variety of ages and include older professionals with no kids at home. At the time, we lived in the neighborhood for 18 months and didn’t know many of the neighbors. My husband helped him make up some large sized business cards and I set him up with a clipboard and paper. He put on a Polo shirt and went door to door and I stood back a yard or two inconspicuously as he talked to the neighbors at their door. He probably only talked to less than 10 neighbors and proceeded to gain two customers. One is a couple about age 50 who are busy professionals, and the other is a single lady also about age 50.

He “mows and blows” at one visit and then edges at alternates visits. He has finished his third summer since then and still has these same two customers. It is pretty tough juggling school (gets home at 5:00 p.m. off school bus), sports and lawn work (and responsibilities at home!) and frankly sometimes we are compelled to remind him how to manage his time with his customers’ expectations.

One morning a few months ago I was in the yard and another neighbor approached me asking about the boys. She had a college son home for the summer but would need yard help starting in August. Our oldest son is pretty much at his limit and what has worked out is oldest son and middle son work on this yard together two times a month. Sometimes the oldest son will ask the youngest son (3^rd grade) to help blow off a driveway or pick up pine cones—and pays him a few dollars. Around here the grass needs cutting through October and then starts again in April.

So the two oldest boys have both been making money since we pay $10 to mow our front and back lawn (that’s less than the rate on the street but it’s the family rate!), which has been the middle son’s “job” for over a year now .

It's a fairly common event that when the Hubs and I have to run somewhere and need cash we ask if we can take a loan from the “Bank of the Boys”.