Color my World

I live my life in bright color. Our kitchen is red, our dining room is green, our family room is yellow and our living room is orange. And I don't mean the muted cousins of these rainbow colors. I mean the Roy G. Biv, right out of the Crayola 8 box. Only recently have I realized that color is truly a part of who I am. I walk in a new room and paint it in my head a few times until my imagination is satisfied with the hue.

Yesterday, my sweet Caroline, sat in an orthodonist chair for two hours and had braces put on her teeth. Her mouth is sore, she can't chew gum for two years, but she is giddy as a school girl (wait, she is a school girl.) Why? Because the rubberbands come in a rainbow of colors! The receptionist handed Caroline the rubberband color wheel. A sight to BEHOLD! Am I the only person who has ever wanted a rubberband color wheel of my very own? And because my child has adopted my odd infatuation with color, the two of us poured over this color wheel. The genius who designed this wheel of dancing candy dots made it with two sliding levels so that you can see what two colors will look like side by side.

After much necessary deliberation, Caroline made her decision. Then she is told, that she can change the colors each month. Now this is what dreams are made of! She's already thinking about next month's oral fashion statement. Monet had his Water Lilies, VanGogh had his Sunflowers, but step aside friends of color, and make way for Caroline and her lime green and hot pink rubberbands.

One fish, two fish, flush the blue fish

We've had a death in the family. Bluebell only lived in our house for two weeks, but he sure made a splash. Caroline had wanted her own betta fish for a long time. She wanted it to live in her room, her own pet. To earn this fish, she had to prove that she could keep her room clean. The choosing of the bowl, the spot in her room - she approached it all like an HGTV designer.

I hear her shouting tonight that Bluebell is not in his bowl. I'm the first to spot the corpse - stuck to the side of her dresser. She begs me to put the stiff fish back in the bowl "to see if he will swim again." You see, this past week, a friend had told her that betta fish can jump out out of their bowls and still survive. As she is reminding me of this story, I start sniffing out clues that stink of conspiracy. I notice that a stool is pulled over to her dresser. Hmmm..... I realize that Bluebell would be wearing Olympic gold if he had been able to ski jump over two picture frames and land on the side of the dresser. Hmmm........Then, I realize that my 4-year old has disappeared. Hmmm...... As Bart tends to our grieving daughter, I go hunt down my suspect. I find him crouched in a corner in his bedroom. Drawing on almost 10 years of Mom experience, I planned my interrogation. Instead of "Did you take Bluebell out of his bowl" I start with "How did Bluebell feel?" He answered "Slippery." Gotcha!!! To close my short investigation, I asked "Why didn't you put him back in his bowl?" The answer, "he was flipping around too much." Case closed.

So Bart and I have agreed that it is better for all parties involved in the case to never mention the truth. To let sleeping dogs lie. To let a jumping fish rest in peace. Bluebell has taken the truth to his grave (the toilet).

Bookworm

I adore children's books. I always have. I head straight to the children's section when I go in a book store. In my fantasy world, I own a children's bookstore or I am, dare I say it, a children's author. Great Goodnight Moon - can you imagine!? To live eternally on the shelves of children's' bedrooms - what an honor that would be.

We have a challenge brewing at our house - it's 1st grade Reading for the Stars month. At the beginning of February, I happened to be in the classroom when Owen chose his reading goal of 50 books for the month-long challenge. The children were asked to choose between 50 and 100. Now to say that Owen is laid-back would be like saying that the East Coast has had some flurries this winter. No surprise that he chose the lowest number. In his defense, he reads constantly - but its always animal fact books. Did you know that about 30 Velvet Mites can fit on the fingernail of your thumb? I did. Being Owen's mom means that I have learned hundreds of pieces of bizarre animal trivia.


Seeing this challenge as an opportunity for him to stretch himself, I convinced him to pick a higher goal. Crazy I know because of course, he picked 100. So today, we counted out how many books Owen has left to read in order to reach his goal. Exhibit A:

Owen aside, let me just shout from the rooftops and say that I will not be defeated! Bring it on Doreen Cronin and David Kirk. Hello to my old friends Lucy Cousins and Dr. Seuss. I am a mother out to prove to her child that he can grab the brass ring. Oh, and on that day that we prevail, we will quench our parched mouths not just with the drink of good books but with tall celebratory milkshakes. 68 down, 32 more to go!

Romantic Valentine dinner

Did you have a romantic Valentine's Day? I did. I'm not one for the heart-shaped box of candy or the blinking plastic rose from the drug store. Actually, I really hate roses. The smell, the thorns, the built-in cliche, I just don't get it. Here is my idea of a fabulous Valentine's Day gift and this is how I know my husband knows me (and don't we all deep down just want to be known?)

Aren't they FABULOUS! I wore my new boots to host our annual romantic dinner in the dining room - for our children. The menu: tortellini and ravioli with red sauce, cherry tomatoes, red grapes, red peppers, chocolate dipped marshmallows, cherry juice jello parfait and sparkling raspberry grape juice. We light candles and give the children our homemade presents.

I got to wear my favorite new apron, purchased from the etsy shop of the fabulous Cheryl at A Pretty Cool Life.
Thank you Cheryl! I love it and I felt so June Cleaver wearing it while preparing my dinner.

Now, don't get me wrong, I love date night out with my husband. But on Valentine's Day, I must spend the evening with all of my loves - big and small. I told 7-year-old Owen that I was using my grandmother's crystal ice-cream dishes to serve the parfait. I asked "Do you know why?" (I was trying to teach him that you should use your good stuff) He answered "so you can pass the love down." Wow. That says it all. I could be out at an overpriced restaurant with a stinky rose, or I could clean up that smashed red grape on the floor.
Easy choice - pass the dust pan my lovelies.

Love letter to the library

Dear Public Library,

Happy Valentine's Day. You know that I have loved you since childhood. Passing through your majestic columns, and turning eagerly to the children's section, I was at home among your shelves. Remember the days when you would visit me? Oh heaven! I can still picture myself stepping up into the bookmobile, the capsule of endless adventures. And now, as a mother, I love you even more. You have taught my children to love reading and to explore the world of possibilities. They beg to see you and I happily agree. You have allowed me to say words that a mother never says "yes, pick out whatever you want!"

To show you my affection this Valentine's Day, I highlight your goodness on my annual homemade gifts to my children. And as an added bonus, these new library bags will ensure that my children, especially my boys, will no longer drop your books in the snow. So sorry that boys are messy.

With admiration, I remain your faithful Valentine- Julie

Lucky to be her mom

Today my sweet pea missed the 3rd grade circus because of an unwanted guest - Mr. Ear Infection turned Mastoiditis, you know who you are. We started our day thinking that with antibiotics and numbing drops, she would still don her clown costume and perform her light stick dance. But instead, the day progressed to an overnight at the hospital and a potential surgery. But in the midst of it all, there were so many blessings, so many pure moments when you realize you are living life, not just living. Her seeing me cry because of her sadness, our grown-up conversation about life's turns, my witnessing of her resilence to overcome her disappointment, our amazement at the gentle kindness of strangers who were caring for her, the pure love and concern of true deep friendships and last but not least, the discovery of her clown nose in her coat pocket. After all, the show must go on.

Dollar store, will you be my valentine?

Yesterday, my friend Jessie and I strapped the kids in her car with bags of pretzels and off we went to be big spenders at the dollar store. We even promised our preschoolers that they could each pick something out to buy. Not realizing that their cheap mommies would get much more than a dollar's worth of shopping sanity out of their selections, they were very willing passengers.

So now, the dollar store is my new favorite place. In addition to boring everyday stuff, I was drawn to a small wreath of florist foam. I can't believe I stood and pondered it for so long - I mean you know how much it was - A DOLLAR! I thought about what to do with this wreath the rest of the day and last night, when passing by my children's art area, I spotted their pom pom container. EUREKA! I love pompoms (quite frankly, who doesn't?) I started hot glueing all of the red ones on my dollar find. And then I asked Bart why there aren't any 24-hour pom pom stores.

This morning, I headed to Michaels for a jumbo bag of pom poms and Voila! A pom pom wreath for Valentine's Day. My children thought I was a crafting genius. Little do they know, they have no more red pom poms in their jar and their brother's new and very annoying paddle ball came with a small price tag (how much was that again?)

As I stood at the kitchen island cutting swiss chard, I glanced over at my most recent favorite thing. I will admit that the swiss chard has nothing to do with the story. I just wanted you to be impressed. Believe me when I tell you that 24-hours ago I did not even know what swiss chard was. (Do you think it is jealous of carrots, squash and potatoes for their inclusion in everyday life?) While under the spell of my sugar high (see yesterday's post), I decided that yes, of course I could make the recipe that the grocery store was sampling.

Whoops! Back to my favorite thing. As I stood at the chard, blah, blah, blah, I glanced over at the chore rings that were my crafty way of telling our children that the free ride is over. It was a rare project that involved all of my favorite things: crafting, organizing, cleaning and oddly enough, laminating. The only materials were cardstock, a sharpie, random sticker letters from my craft room, metal rings and the laminating machine at Kinkos. Each child has their own and each morning I put 4-5 chores on each ring from the stack of 25 chores. Some of the chores are activities like Brownies, Boy Scouts and choir so I can count that as less time for chores. Included in the 4-5 chores everyday are make bed and tidy room. I also added some other activities like "Give Owen a compliment", "Read to William" and "Snuggle Mom."

Why did I not think of this sooner? We have tried charts and stickers, I have tried talking in my Mary Poppins accent, but there is something about the chore ring. It has some mystical power that we are not questioning. I no longer clean the bunny's cage, I no longer put their folded laundry away. But my favorite chore of all is the one that makes my 4-year old giggle to no end: re-fill the toilet paper rolls. I mean, its just so stinkin' funny (pun intended.)

Goodbye my sweet

Dr. Oz is haunting me. I purposely avoided his show last week because a preview elluded to what I already know deep in my heart-Pepsi is bad for me. Truly though, the man is out to get me. In the past three days, his veggie-eating, ab-crunching, yoga-practicing self has "spoken to me" via Oprah, the news and a magazine article. And then today, I flip on The View and he lowers the boom - sugary sodas increase your risk of pancreatic cancer by 50%. WHAT?! That got my attention. His detailed animation on Oprah of sugar scraping the inside of my vessels perked my attention, but the big C, now that closes the door on my relationship with Pepsi. Pepsi, I'm just not that into you if you can cause cancer.

In my own defense, I do not drink or smoke and I eat relatively healthy. I drink lots of water and my lactose intolerance shut down ice-cream eating 20 years ago. I do not allow my children to drink soda. So, why do you ask, do I drink it? Let's face it- it's a fun Mom drink. You moms know- you all have your Mom drink that gets you through some long days. Whether it comes from Starbucks or the fountain at Target, we all know our poison.

So tonight, I am in our grocery store. I am so proud of myself that I am bypassing the Pepsi tower. For the first time since this store opened in the fall, I am happy that amidst the cheese cave, the cooking school mezzazine and the wine tasting bar, they neglected to put in a fountain soda machine. I applaud my new lifestyle with a trip to the smoothie bar for my other favorite Mom drink. As "Mr. I look 14 but I'm the Smoothie Bar Manager" makes my drink, I hear Dr. Oz shouting in my head "Ask for the sugar content!" and so I do. I mean, its a soy berry smoothie right? I quickly learn that it is not the protein powder that makes me energized, it's the 45 grams of sugar. My heart sinks. Two breakups in one week.

Organic green tea with lemon, I am yours.

Twirling

Does twirling ever get old? Or better yet, are you ever too old to twirl? When choosing her outfit for the annual Daddy-Daughter dance, Caroline bypassed all of the dresses in her closet and went straight for this candy confection. Why? Because she's 9 and because it twirls.

What I loved most was watching her twirl in the family room, so giddy, so confident, so very "hey world, look at me!" I think I'll go search for that feeling in my own closet.