Dangerous Chores for Boys

This weekend we needed to remove every piece of furniture and knickknack off of our screened porch, as prep work for a new paint job. Our porch is two floors up and I pictured all of us passing in and out of the doors a zillion times, finding suitable spots to store everything in the living room or carrying things through the house to the basement below. It’s a large living-room type porch so we’re talking about several oversized rocking chairs, other chairs, couches, end tables, a coffee table, a humongous rug and more.

To my surprise my husband decided to tie a rope around each piece and lower it down to the work crew (the boys). I thought that was quite inventive and I was impressed. Around here chores are more exciting if they involve danger, drama and strength.

Here is a chair that was lowered.

And a coffee table. It normally has a glass top. That was not lowered down, although the boys were expecting it to come down next.

The large rug was rolled up and then tossed over the edge (no photo was taken as I was yelling to make sure no boys were directly underneath). Their job was to untie the rope after each piece reached the ground and then carry everything into the basement below.

The last item left to remove was the grill. It’s located on a part of the porch that is not inside the screened porch. It was going to just simply be wheeled through the kitchen and out of the garage. But there was definitely some danger and excitement involved.

Hubs decided to open the lower front doors of the grill and see if the grill cover was still stored inside. It wasn’t but he did see a large wasp nest--right inside the door and about 3 inches away from a human who stands there grilling. We use the grill once a week but apparently the heat doesn’t get those wasps fired up. The old can of Raid left behind years ago from the prior owners sure did get them fired up. All the boys and Hubs crouched behind the screened door as the can was aimed at the nest and the aiming button on this old can of poison did not fail. Immediately about 35 wasps flew out and died on our deck. It was definitely an exciting end to the chore.

Speaking of chores, here is one that I needed to tackle and tend to take care of every week of the year:

I guess there is no danger involved with this chore. At least not when a new roll is lovingly placed close enough.

Sports Teams and Snacks: Can’t We All Just Feed Our Own Offspring?

About ten years ago I stepped into the world of organized, recreational sports and signed my oldest son up for soccer. Besides the uniforms to buy, the practices, the game dates and rain-out make-up dates, there is also a designated date(s) on which to be Snack Mom (or Dad). My head would hurt from the math if I told you how many different teams of baseball, soccer, football and roller hockey on which my 3 boys have played.

Here is a nice snack mom memory: on one soccer team a child had severe allergies and that mom stated if everyone gave her $3 she would have small waters and snacks at each and every game. Genius.

Here is a painful memory: for football the team mom decided that for each game a parent had to provide orange slices and Gatorade at half time, another parent for drinks at end of game, and another parent for snacks at end of game. There were 30 players plus the coaches we were told for whom to provide. Once we saw her yell at a kid who did not want the ice cream sandwich provided by a Snack Mom.

Here is a memory from a 6^th/7th grade baseball team: a coach (a dad) sent us parents an email that we (the parents) remember to tuck a jacket in our son’s bag in case it gets cool and to pack a snack for the boys because sometimes they get hungry before the game (I told my son that having his baseball bag ready means he puts in a water and anything else he needs ready before departure time).

Here is a great idea: LET'S NOT PROVIDE SNACKS.

Last night my 3^rd grader had a baseball game at 6:00--to be at the batting cages at around 5:15. And I was Snack Mom last night. Which means during my lunch hour I ran through Target getting 12 small Gatorades and a box of 12 Oreos or Chips Ahoy cookies. (And the other usual $100 worth of stuff the guys in my house eat and barely make last a week).

I waved to Hubs who had our 3^rd grader with him as we passed each other on our street. I then had to unload all the goods, put the 12 drinks on ice, get the other two boys and stuff loaded up and drop off oldest son at the 8^th grader’s field by 6:00 for his 7:00 game. I then hustled across the park to watch my 3^rd grader’s game. After the game each boy saw I was Snack Mom and reached in the cooler for a Gatorade and a snack. Besides my son, one boy out of 12 said thank you. They are 3^rd and 4^th graders.

We then went over to the 13 and 14 yr old field to watch my 8^th grader play some. Did I mention that I am the Team Mom……..and No One Has To Provide Snacks for these boys. Yep, I implemented a “Let’s simplify our busy lives and bring our boys home for own dinner and dessert Policy.” There was not a grumble. I have noticed in many ways that by this age even the parents have seemed to change, and I like it a lot.

Btw, last spring I was the team mom for the 11/12 yr old team and I suggested that the boys are older now and perhaps each player should provide his own drink and snack. The coach supported this and only one mom stated that it was unusual but that would be fine.

I took my other two sons home and didn’t see the end of my 8th grader's game. Later after he got home with Hubs, my 13 yr old said to me, “You know what, after the game I saw that the other team had snacks handed out. It looked so weird! I mean--we are all 13 and 14 yrs old!”

And at this age the coach has decided to no longer award a “game ball” to a remarkable player of each game. Because they are a team. I love it.

The Sweet Dinner Meat

One day last week I was really in the mood to cook something hearty for the family. It was dark and rainy and as I drove home I had the perfect idea: beef stroganoff. I am not an advance meal planner. I do keep some basics in the fridge such as sour cream and I do buy mushrooms just about every week and I did purposefully buy a bag of large egg noodles. I knew I had some steak in the freezer.

Truth be told I do enjoy making dinner most of the time. And I had my youngest son to help since these days the two middle schoolers are in their rooms at 6:00 with hours of homework. So I got busy defrosting and slicing the beef. I told Hubs I felt like Julie Powell did—cooking after working and getting excited about preparing her Beef Bourguignon (minus any maggots in my kitchen. Sorry, I had to share. The movie left out a lot of the book).

Although I am not a frequent wine drinker occasionally I do have a glass of wine when I cook. A few weeks back my husband brought home a 4-pack of mini wine bottles declaring this way I won’t waste any (if you ever come over and bring wine, bring your favorite as I will probably only have one glass and you can finish the rest and I won’t even notice).

My youngest son will help me out in the kitchen if I let him actively participate in tasks with elements of danger and drama so he was all over unscrewing a little bottle of Chardonnay, pouring it into a wine glass, pretending to be a waiter and using a French accent. I then let him cut up mushrooms, open a soup can, and add a beef bouillon cube to hot water. He continued to use an accent and pretend we were on a cooking show. I was enjoying the moment immensely.

The recipe indicates that when the cubes of meat are added to the pan, a couple tablespoons of flour should be added and then later, more flour is to be added to the cream sauce. I keep my flour in a cupboard and I didn’t see the paper bag of flour, but I did see a large ziplock plastic bag. I figured that was the flour in a new container -- from when he had the pantry moth incident when my husband and I threw out a lot of food items but a couple of items got inspected and transferred to other containers.

The beef stroganoff looked beautiful--a big batch chock full of beef pieces, mushrooms and creamy sauce with lots of sour cream. About half way though my husband asked if I added “anything sweet to the dish ……like powdered sugar???” I said, “Well I sprinkled on flour to thick--…..” “Wait--does anyone recall seeing that bag of flour?" Turns out the bag of flour had gone into the refrigerator due to the pantry moth incident and the ziplock bag of white "flour" was actually powdered sugar.

So we had very sweet beef stroganoff. And lots of "leftovers". In hindsight I did wonder why the “flour” wasn’t blending in like it should in the pan. So I blame it on the wine. Or it was the moths’ fault. Or a lesson to label plastic baggies containing powdered sugar.

Rainy Days and Mondays

I wonder if we will be able to legally once again wash our cars in our driveway once these rains have stopped. Hard to believe that one and two years ago we were in a terrible drought. It seems like it has rained every day for about 10 days now. There are other parts of Georgia that are much worse off. People were being rescued in boats this morning.

We have been meaning to drive around and look at other houses for new paint color ideas and we drove around yesterday even though it was raining. We drove down a cul-de-sac near our house and saw water, stained red from Georgia's dirt, absolutely pouring down a driveway, coming down like a waterfall. Seems like everyone's backyard, including ours, was washing away and into this one person's driveway.

And a neighbor has a little stream going across his lawn.

The reason we are looking at paint colors is we have a contractor getting ready to redo the cedar siding on our house. Especially around the chimney at the back of the house. The chimney exterior: old, worn out wood, which is saturated and now leaking into our basement ceiling. We knew we needed to get this done last spring and I have cringed each time it rains. Each day there is a new ceiling tile that is soaked. And the other part of the basement, near the front of the house which is actually underground? ? I have to go tell the Hubs that I feel some water under the carpet.

Earlier tonight we drove to a nearby park with the Chattahoochee River flowing through it. Normally there is a long walkway here that leads to even more steps down into the river.
The kids are going to have their second day off from school tomorrow. It is unheard of around here to close for rain, but even major highway intersections were under water at 4:00 a.m. today.

Since there was no school I didn't get to bring in my specially ordered doughnuts to school for Youngest Son who had a birthday (to share with his 17 classmates). So now we have 24 chocolate iced glazed doughnuts with sprinkles on them. And leftover cake.But no one seems to mind, not the Youngest Son who didn't get enough time anyway to play with his new Raider CS-35 Nerf gun or Wii Sports Resort. And even older brothers are not too old to play with their old Nerf guns either in war games in the basement. I'll tell them some other time that these days off mean they just get added back on later in the year.

Apparently a Very High Need Electronic Purchase

I found myself in different stores this week making a critical purchase for an in-demand household electronic purchase.

Was it a new HDTV? Luckily, No.

New appliances for a kitchen redo? I’m salivating here but sadly, No.

A new laptop to replace or add to the one desktop computer in our family of 5? No again.

Of all the domestic possibilities, I have been schlepping around looking for a satisfactory iron to purchase. Not a flat iron for my hair, but a regular, boring clothes iron. And there are two people in my house more interested in this purchase than I am.Back in the day when the Hubs and I were a DINK household we actually had his and hers irons. The hers came to be mine after I ironed my sweaters – I guess the heat was too much and fragments of melted angora would get pressed all over the Hubs’ shirts next time he needed the iron. Even though it cleaned up really well with nail polish remover on a cotton ball (back then besides having lots of soft red sweaters I had lots of red nail polish and polish remover handy), a new iron was purchased and I was banished from the new iron.

My husband is really, really good at ironing. He says he got started when he was in middle school and his mom ruined some of his clothes in the washer and she was bad at ironing, so he took over his washing and ironing. If I need something of mine ironed perfectly I ask him to do it. He doesn’t enjoy it so most of his work clothes go to the dry cleaner these days.

My oldest son has always been surprisingly concerned about his clothes and a typical morning involves him asking if I can iron down a collar or smooth out a t-shirt for him.

And then last week the iron just wouldn’t heat up. The Hubs said, “Don’t we have another one?” Sometime in the past after I stopped wearing fuzzy sweaters and most of his shirts went to the dry cleaner we downsized to one iron. And his memory is so bad he didn’t know.

So I bought a new one from Target and that night we tried it out and I didn’t like it because it was too heavy and Hubs didn’t like it because he put in a lot of water and it dripped a lot. So back it went and a different iron was purchased. This one didn’t even get plugged in because back at home we noticed the coating was scratched as if someone had a fiber melting incident on it and returned it.

Walmart was the logical next choice but it is outside of my Monday-Friday schedule and there might be anarchy if I waited till the weekend to get there. So I tried Kohls and voila they had about 10 irons on display and two on the shelf to actually buy. There was a $29 choice and a $109 choice (as if). I think we have a winner and I can actually throw out the box . It has satisfactory steaminess, no water drips, no scratches and not too heavy. The Oldest son was just happy to hear that we were keeping this one.

It’s time to pass down the tradition of middle school boys doing their own wash and ironing. I say my mother in law is a very smart lady.

Snippets from my Weekend

At 8:45 a.m. on Saturday I was driving my 13 year old son to his baseball game (Hubs and the two brothers would join later). He says to me, “I think maybe I’ll join the Air Force because I can learn to fly and I want to fly long distances such as to Australia and also they will pay for college, right?”

I almost drove off the road. Quickly blinking back tears because of the reality that hit me in the face about having a son (who is in 8^th grade but four years ago was as clear as yesterday and so high school graduation will be around the corner) who actually uttered the words Air Force which means military which means grown up and danger and pride and a world unknown to us, I said that yes, that is a long way to fly. He has mentioned being a pilot before but I always thought it was due to us suggesting how he can fly us on vacation to the Islands. Six years later he is still talking about being a pilot. Or working in sports career.

When his game finished we were then watching our youngest son play his baseball game. I got a kick out of the following conversation of these 8 year old boys in the dugout about a girl playing on the opposing team. I have always seen girls here and there starting on the teams with ages 4 and 5 but never heard any conversations about them:

Player #1: Look, there’s a girl in the outfield on the other team.

Player #2: Well, the best girl player is named Avery (some other girl in league but not playing)

Player #3: Yeah, she is the best girl player.

Player #2 again: No, not the best girl player, she is the best baseball player.

Wow! What a compliment. Girl power. I’ve wondered what it would be like to have a daughter who loves baseball enough at age 5, 6, 7, or 8 to play with 95% boys.

Friday night I read the following book to my youngest son in 3^rd grade: 100 Things You Must Know about Gladiators. He shares a room with Middle Son so they both looked and listened. We all like non-fiction and sometimes I think I pick up these books so I can learn first and foremost. There was an illustration of a gladiator with his foot on top of a fallen, bloodied gladiator, who was holding up his hand and fingers. The standing one was looking at the crowd. Turns out, the crowd signals with their thumb whether he should live or die. The editor (the official trying to get elected again) wants to please the crowd so he signals according to the majority).

I break away from the book and say out loud to them, “Oh, what kind of a bedtime story am I reading? Maybe I shouldn’t be reading this. We’re reading about sword types and slaves getting killed and fighting with wild animals. This is violent.” No, they told me it’s OK, it's not too violent, they have seen the movie with Dad and then they acted out the scene for each other holding up a hand for mercy on the floor. (truth be told I couldn't get enough of the book and sneaked ahead reading more later).

The boys are getting more and more interested in dinners they enjoy and the time has come to increase the portions. Saturday night I made Mandarin Beef, which is where I put sliced beef into the wok, then add a mixture of hoisin and soy sauce, splash of OJ, cornstarch, ginger, sliced vegetables and canned mandarin oranges and serve over rice. Years ago they had no interest in a meal like this. The Oldest son raved. There was no food left even with one less kid as Middle Son was sleeping over at a friend’s house. That should have been my first clue to prepare more food in the future.

Sunday night everyone was really hungry and roaming the kitchen as I cooked pan-fried pork chops marinated in garlic and Italian salad dressing, real mashed potatoes, green beans from a can and fresh spinach for Hubs and me. How many times in the past have meat leftovers had to be thrown out? Well, they were clamoring for more of everything before I even had two bites. But there was only one pork chop left and the oldest really wanted it all but he split it with Middle Bro (who is the same size boy less maybe two pounds so it was only fair).

So we’ve had boys enjoying homecooking, lots of baseball, skateboarding for Middle Son, violent books, but I’m sure more violent scenes on the Play Station, getting me extra hormonal over career chitchat, friends over, bike riding, oh, and yes, there was homework. I’ll save that for the next post.

Happy Labor Day and My First Job

With a few exceptions during college years, and much later in between jobs due to layoffs, beginning at the age of 16 or 17 I have earned a paycheck. My first job was working in a movie theater in Westwood, CA. My brother was the wingman for my job--his best friend was the manager and so it was easy to get hired. During my senior year I worked on Friday nights and on Sundays. Back then I had to wear a blue polyester pants suit. Luckily it stayed at the movie theater and got washed and returned--no one outside the job had to see me in it. I'd either sell the tickets in the front window or I would sell the refreshments. I really enjoyed it--making work friends, getting to see all the movies that were playing, and getting paychecks.

I remember when Little Darlings was playing. Now I think that movie is one of the best movies of the '80's. Kristy McNichol's talent was incredible. Matt Dillon is simply gorgeous. And the scene where they meet and she blows a bubble gum bubble while sitting in a school bus and he is standing there flirting with her and he grabs it out of her mouth and puts it in his--sexy. And it was filmed in GA where I live now.

Anyway, one night Tatum O'Neal came with some friends to see Little Darlings in which she starred. I thought that was kind of weird. The movie was rated R. I'm not sure if she was old enough but I sold her and her friends their tickets. She was beautiful with minimal make-up. Actresses now at that young age don't seem natural anymore.

Besides weekends during high school, I worked there the summer after high school and the summer after my freshman year of college. I wonder what kind of part-time jobs my boys will get when they are older. But today we will just rest and play (and do homework).
What were your first jobs?

Tonight is a Full Moon But It Is Not the Harvest Moon

About nine years ago I had heard that the September moon was the Harvest Moon. I was paying attention to the moon because I was due with my third baby on the 19th and I wondered if the baby would arrive sooner, closer to the full Harvest moon. It was a beauty, bigger than ever, low in the sky and glowed orange.

Ever since then I remembered about September being the Harvest Moon. And it is every 2 out of 3 years. But this year the Sept. full moon is on Sept. 4 and next month's full moon will be Oct. 4. The Harvest Moon is the one that falls closest to the equinox, which is 9/22. So that makes the October full moon the Harvest Moon.

So what is the name of tonight's full moon? The Full Corn Moon. That's all I got. Except that next month I will have to figure out what happens to the Hunter's Moon. Because when there is a Sept. Harvest Moon, there is an October Hunter's Moon.

Maybe on the way home tonight I will stop at the store for some dinner supplies and pick up some corn on the cobb. We have no other plans. Which is a great way to start out this long weekend.

(Photo taken from Google Images. Great idea for the yard next month!)