Creating a memoy

My family and I spent last night watching a movie together. About halfway through, I went to the kitchen to get some popcorn. As I came back into the family room, Parker pointed at me, smiled, and said, "There's the popcorn!" He's always been a detail noticer, and a lover of routines, so I guess he's paid attention as I carry out my almost nightly ritual of eating popcorn right before bed. The other night, when I told him it was time for bed he complained, "But you haven't even had your popcorn yet!" It occurs to me suddenly that I've created a "smell" memory for him. We all have smells that transport us back to a certain place or time. The way the smell of a certain brand of lotion always makes me think of my mom, and Aramis cologne is my dad, and Downy from the blue bottle with the pink lid takes me back home. Some day, a long time from now, maybe Parker will smell popcorn popping and smile, and tell his kids (or grandkids!) stories about his childhood...and his popcorn eating mom.

Life Coach

I've heard it said that parenting a teenager is a lot like coaching. And since I've been watching a real coach up close for several years now, I think I agree. Coaches can't just walk out onto the floor during the game, stop the play, and make the player do what he says. Just like, once you hand over the car keys, you can't just stop space and time and control your child. You huddle, set up the play, and send them off to execute it. Hillary's coach and assistant coach (her dad and I) watch her as she plays at life, and we yell direction from the sidelines.
When the world tries to take her innocence and purity, we yell "Protect the ball!"
When we see the world setting up a situation that will cause her pain we say, "Move your feet!" and "Watch for the trap!"
When she has a dream we cheer, "Fight for it! That's your ball!"
And when she gets into a relationship that is unhealthy for her, Coach sets her down and says "You're out of the game for a while."
When the World seems to be winning, and they knock her down, we help her up, say "Good try. Get back in there and REBOUND!"
And we know that, whatever the scoreboard says, we are proud of her effort. And we know she is winning. And someday, she'll be coaching...and the best coaches are the ones who've played the game.

Going to the dogs

Happy Martin Luther King, Jr day! Good old Martin fought long and hard for the rights of many people, but apparently those rights don't cover the right to keep your day off of school instead of making up a snow day. At least not in my school district. Thus, I trekked off to work in the cold dark this morning while my husband and kids slept snug in their beds...dreaming of MLK I'm sure. I left a short list for each family member, just so they wouldn't be bored. And I called during afternoon recess, just to check in. I heard the voice of my husband say hello...and a strange cacophony of rowdy boy voices in the background. He assured me they were doing fine. Parker just had a few friends over, and Hillary's boyfriend was here. Oh, and they had a surprise for me when I got home.
I walked in the door to a clean kitchen counter, and a humming washing machine. So far so good. Then I followed the pieces of tracked in leaves across the living room and down the hall and was met with the skinniest, most pathetic brown puppy I've ever seen. Surprise!
I have to let you know that I'm not a big animal person. Throughout the years we've tried to have pets. But it's never really worked out in the best interest of me or the pet. The fish we had got sucked up in the filter...the gerbil made the mistake of learning how to escape his aquarium and running across the keys of Hillary's toy piano, waking me up and leaving me no choice but to put him and his glass box outside on the freezing porch (sleep deprivation does not add to my character)...the duckling we bought one Easter choked on his food pellets in the night...and the deranged dog a co-worker gave me was given away after he bit Parker. So I had sworn off all pets until we moved here. When we bought our house in the country, Yancey and the kids begged for a dog. All the neighbors had dogs..and it could run free..and I would never have to feed it, wash it, or clean up after it. So I gave in and we got a sweet puppy from the shelter. I've come to love her, and she mostly takes care of herself...outside...except for the coldest days of winter (like today) when I let the kids bring her in until the freezing weather passes.
So now, our dog, Lady, is sprawled on the couch, watching TV, and I'm trying to sidestep the starving puppy while scanning the carpet for dog poop. "Off!" I command, because I cannot stand animals on my furniture. Lady just looks at me lazily and does not move. Since she weighs almost as much as me I had to stand on the couch and push her off with my feet. For an outside dog, she's wasted no time making herself comfortable in my house. You might be wondering why I wasn't calling for my husband at this point. He and Hillary were already gone to his basketball game. But I know he was thinking of me, because he called a few minutes later and told me to be sure to leave some roast and potatoes for him and Hillary. Since Parker and I have never really eaten a 4 pound roast with potatoes and carrots by ourselves, I'm not sure what he was worried about. I briefly considered giving his portion to the starving puppy.
This is what I get for leaving my family at home alone for more than an hour. My social husband throws a party and my bleeding heart daughter finds a scrawny homeless animal to take in. What to do? What to do? Now that the animal is in my house, I feel a certain sense of responsibility. I could easily pass it by on the road and pretend that someone else would find it, but I can't so easily throw it outside. My family assures me that they searched hard for the owner, going door to door around our neighborhood. I do not believe them. So for tonight, the lucky puppy is safe, warm, and fed. And tomorrow I will try to find a new place for him. Until then I guess we've gone to the dogs...

This life

I think at one time or another we all wonder about where we might be if we'd made one different choice in our life. In some other life, on some other Friday night, I might be just getting home from my polished, important career, wearing my professional dressy clothes...instead of jeans stained with first-grade sized shaving cream handprints and a bright green "I read!" t-shirt worn at the school assembly. I might be getting ready to go out to the trendy places you see on TV, to meet my girlfriends and gossip over drinks...instead of eating left-over chicken pot pie and waiting on my basketball coach husband to come home from practice. I might have more money and more "me" time...instead of calling the gas company to get set up on monthly billing so I can pay the $500 it took to fill up our propane tank, and cooking frozen pizzas, not only for my own kids, but also for the neighbor boy who almost lives here. BUT...I might have slept alone at night...instead of curled into the arms of the guy whose known me longer than almost anyone. I might have had only the TV for company...instead of sitting with a lovely, animated teenaged girl and getting filled in on the soap opera that is high school...and being entertained by a talented boy who is learning cool tricks with his yo-yo...and drinking coffee from a slightly chipped cup painted with a lop-sided snowman by little hands years ago. That other life might have been - but thank God, this one is!

What kind of man???

I have always tried to instill a high level of self-confidence and self-esteem in my children. And I guess it's working. Neither of them seem to have any self-doubt whatsoever. Hillary preens in front of the mirror and takes zillions of pictures of herself in various poses and posts them all over her room and on her web page. She tells me all about each new poem or play she writes and how good it is. Parker believes he is the fastest, strongest, kid he knows. He confidently wears bold, non-conformative clothes and shoes, and stubbornly supports the New York Yankees when we live in Cardinals territory. Last night, he was working on a homework assignment - write an autobiography. He had a list of questions he was supposed to answer. "Where were you born?" Cape Girardeau. "Describe your looks." Average with brown hair, brown eyes, and a city clean hair-cut. (whatever that means) But the one that made me chuckle was "Describe your personality." His answer was I'm a loving kind of man.
He is very affectionate and can be uncannily sensitive to others' feelings. Maybe he's born with it...Maybe its his dad's example. My husband is impulsive, forgetful, and way too open with strangers sometimes, but he loves me...and it shows. He never hesitates to show me affection in front of the kids. He supports any new effort I undertake. He tells me I'm beautiful, and takes me on dates. When I'm stressed, he makes sure the kids are being responsible and doing their part with the housework. He is an example to our daughter of how a good man treats the woman he loves, and an example to our son of how to be strong and gentle at the same time. I can't think of anyone I'd be prouder for Parker to end up like. My husband...the original "loving kind of man."

Soup's On

The holidays are over. The days are short. It's cold outside...well, it was before today's freak "warm snap". I suppose all these things contributed to my hunger for a really good soup. I searched the internet and found a couple that sounded good, were a little different from our normal fare, and contained ingredients my family might actually eat. Apparently, I didn't read the recipe closely enough...If I had I would've known this was no Monday night project.
Parker was doing homework at the kitchen bar when I started roasting the red bell peppers. When he finished and left to watch TV, I was still on step 3 (scrape off the blackened peel of the peppers with your fingernails). Hillary came home from pre-season track practice and I was on step 5 (mince fresh cilantro leaves). She took a shower, then started her homework. I squeezed a lime into the sour cream and whisked it together with more cilantro. By this time, I must've looked kind of bad. As I lay in the floor to stretch my back while the onions and garlic sauted, Hillary said (in her cheerful way) "Want to just order a pizza?" Thankfully, the knife was out of my reach. She left to pick up her dad from the gym and I simmered....I mean, the soup simmered.
Step 53...Ladle soup into blender in small portions and puree.
Parker sauntered into the kitchen. "What are we having?" he asked. "Cream of Roasted Red Bell Pepper Soup with Roasted Corn and Lime Cilantro Sour Cream," I replied in a monotone voice as I ladled some into a bowl for him to try. He swallowed a spoonful and said...nothing. Not a good sign. Hillary and Yancey came in. I forced a spoonful on them. Yancy said...nothing...just swallowed with a thoughtful look on his face. "Did you make the corn muffins?" he finally said. Hillary had been rummaging in the fridge. "It's good with cheese in it!" she chirped.
My family is extremely supportive when I get a wild hair and try things like this. They smile and encourage and eat the whole thing. But they'd be just as happy if I didn't try so hard. One night, not too long ago, we were on our way home from school when Parker asked me what we were having for supper. Feeling guilty because this was a crazy weeknight with all of us going in different directions I said, "I'm sorry, but it's just going to be a 'fend for yourself' night." He did a little arm pump and said, "Yessss! Cereal!" I wonder if foodnetwork.com has a recipe for that?

O Christmas Tree

I started taking the tree down tonight. I know...most people have had theirs down for a few days now. But I've been putting it off. First, because we were having family up for New Year's Eve. And then because to take it all down means it's really over. I must admit, I'm a little sad about that. It's not just a tree- it's 1000 tiny white lights that twinkle through my front window and say "We're warm and cheery and happy here." It's the pictures of my chubby faced toddler boy and sweet, buck-toothed little girl playing in the snow. It's the memory of being together with family as we posed for the group picture.

But it can't be Christmas forever. And we had such a great holiday! Even though I'm sad that 2007 is over, I'm looking forward to things in 2008. Things like painting my bedroom...finishing my first year of teaching first grade...being married for 15 years...watching Hillary get her first summer job...beginning the joys of jr high as Parker starts 7th grade...and hosting a family reunion. Things that next Christmas will be oranaments on our tree.