Life - Brought to you by Milton Bradley

Yesterday I played the Game of Life with Bart and Caroline.  It was my favorite game as a child.  I'm sure you too can remember the clickety-click of the rainbow spinner, the plastic topograghy and the sherbet-colored staion wagons.  For me as a child, it was a longing glance into my ideal future.  And by that, I don't mean choosing a career card and taking bank loans, I mean the blue peg husband and the pink and blue peg children.  Winning the game was never my goal.  Life's pinnacle for me was filling up my car.

I realized during the game yesterday, both by Bart's relief of my 5 peg "births" and my own giddiness, that my life has not changed.  The Game of Life has changed for sure - much more complicated with its Share the Wealth cards and Spin to Win - but my game remains the same.  Fill up my car.

Most people are inspired by brilliant minds, musicians, artists or leaders.  I am inspired by parents of large families.  To the right, you'll see that most of the blogs I frequent are moms of 4+ children, all engulfed in generations of sprawling dinner tables. To see a large family helps quench my thrist for the decades before I became a mother, when more people believed in less things and more children.

So, here I sit with an empty seat in my car, an extra chair at the table and with a feeling that someone has yet to show up in my game.  With an expensive adoption being our only option to expand our family, I'm not sure if this is God's plan for us.   But if it isn't, why am I still so thristy?

Watch over me Spirit of Mary

With each new year, I set a creative resolution for myself. I know most people resolve to exercise more, but  I know that ship is never going to sail, so a creative goal it is! This year, my resolution was to start blogging. Check! Last year's resolution was to sew more. You see, I am from a long lineage of seamstresses. My mother is an amazing seamstress. She sewed endless outfits for me and my siblings when we were little. She handmade and embroidered faces on Raggedy Anns and Andys for each of her grandchildren. We have a beautiful stash of Halloween costumes that she burned the midnight oil making. Her mother, my Nana (Mary), was a professional seamstress. She sewed for a national baby clothes company. She could sew anything - from wedding dresses to intricately lined, winter coats for my dolls. When I picture her in my mind, I see her sitting at her sewing machine or cutting a pattern. When she died, I inherited one of her prized possessions, her sewing box. It is filled with little button cards with her handwriting and funny handmade sewing tools etched with her initials. I've always had a guilt about not learning more from her so the resolution to sew more has always been in the back of my mind.

Last year, I asked my mom if she still had her "stash of squares." The stash of squares lived in a cabinet of our dining room buffet when I was growing up and contained a square of fabric from each piece of clothing that my mom had made for one of her children. Her intent was to make a quilt with the stack of squares "when you three are grown and I have the time." Unfortunately, arthritis makes it nearly impossible for her to sew now. Enter part two of my guilty conscience - not learning more sewing tips from my mom.

I decided to act on the guilt. In May of last year, my mom brought me her stack of squares and told me to just use them for crafts. Right then and there, my fear of sewing was conquered. I was going to make the quilt for her. After all, the only difference between the word guilt and quilt is one letter - how hard could it be? I read many tutorials on making quilts, I bought a rotary cutter and mat and most importantly - I opened the sewing box and called upon the Spirit of Mary. All year, Mary listened and brought me the confidence and perserverance to rip out many seams and start over. I started with a custom bird cage cover for our sun conure and matching summer halters for Caroline and I. Then I practiced on a small doll quilt for Caroline's American Girl dolls.  After those successes, I could not postpone it any longer - I started the quilt. I took my time, I read and re-read instructions, I kept the sewing box open and - I finished it. I gave it to my mom Thanksgiving weekend.

Do you have a Mary?  Have you stuck with your New Year's resolution?  Did you resolve to exercise?  And how exactly does a person do that?  Get back to me.  I'll be sitting here sewing.

Another weekend with Mimi

In the second installment of our life with Mimi, this was a big weekend for William's favorite furry sidekick. You see, because Mimi is animatronic, she is not the cuddly stuffie fluffie that a child usually attaches to. All of her moving parts don't allow for much nighttime snuggling. Of course if you are four, this leads you to the conclusion that Mimi needs her own "Big Boy Bed." It doesn't matter apparently that Mimi has a girl name, Mimi needs a "Big Boy Bed."

So, Bart, being the great dad that he is, made a wooden bed for Mimi. Stay tuned for pictures of the finished product, including bedding (which is my project for tomorrow).

Here comes the bride and the bride, bride, bride, bride, bride and the bride

Tonight, as I put our three children to bed, I felt good about today. I was a good mom today. Now, I don't doubt that I'm a good mom on other days, but today I felt especially happy. Today brought PSR and Mass and a new bottle of bubble bath from Target. It brought an hour of the children helping me cook dinner for neighbors in need. And it brought the event they have been planning for days: the stuffed animal wedding. Honestly, it's good clean fun in your family room - from the flamingo marionette priest to the recorded "stuffed animal voices" on Caroline's DSI. The 7 bride and groom match-ups ranged from the sweet and obvious (Harold the sheep and Maria the yoddling goat) to the risky and dangerous (Komodie the komodo dragon and Stacy the baby black sheep). The grooms wore green polka ribbon "ties" and the brides wore pink ribbons in their hair. The three "wedding planners" had made origami gifts for each couple. Every stuffie fluffie in the house was in attendance, along with all of the human species. There were vows, music, dancing and of course, wedding cake. My parents were excited to hear that their 45 year old cake topper, that Bart and I also had on our wedding cake, was used once again. In my eyes, this wedding was just as important. It was not simply the marriage of 7 fluffy, quirky couples, but the union of childhood imagination and the realization that your mother values your excitement and makes it her own. Best wishes to the happy couples! May you be so loved that your fur rubs off and may you never see the inside of a Goodwill bin!

Happy Birthday!

Isn't this the cutest little bag ever? Don't you just want to take a picture of it when the owner of said bag is not looking? Well, the owner of this bag is having a birthday tomorrow and I am celebrating her and her bag with a giant shout-out. HAPPY BIRTHDAY (you know who you are).

I'm stuck on you, Fudgesicle

For the past twenty years, I have been lactose intolerant as the result of a nasty tummy virus. Now, it's really not been a big deal. Do I really need the extra pounds and hardening of the arteries that come along with Alfredo sauce and ice-cream? I've never been a big ice-cream fan anyway so it wasn't a huge sacrifice.

The past few years, the intolerance has worsened which has made cooking difficult, a convenient excuse for a daily chore that I consider a form of torture. But since my children claim that they need food, I searched the grocery store and discovered the best thing since sliced 100% whole grain, omega 3 enhanced bread - Lactaid. No exaggeration - it's changed my life and the number on my scale, but that's another story. I use Lactaid milk for all cooking now and use the Lactaid chewables to drink - CHOCOLATE SHAKES. Oh chocolate shakes, I am so sorry that I lied about not missing you. It was a defense mechanism, a way to hide my pain of not being with you.

So yesterday, my kiddos and I hear the sweet jingle of the ice-cream man coming down the street. Giddy at my new-found ability to digest milk, I grab my wallet and my children are wondering who has replaced the mother that normally, they have to convince to spend her money at the curb. I am literally salivating when I see the picture of the fudgesicle. I pop open a lactaid chewable and indulge in the sweet goodness of fudge.

It tastes like childhood, it takes like victory, it gets stuck to my lips and rips skin off. I have a very irritating ice-cream truck injury the rest of the day. Why, oh why, didn't the safety clown warn me of this?

Happy Birthday Mimi!

Do you love an animatronic chipmunk? I mean, how could you not? William loves chipmunks. I'm not sure why. Is it the stripe down their backs? Their chipper chirping? The way they destroy our yard? Whatever his reason, he loves them, watches them outside and views them as his peeps.


I think it started on our trip to Disney two years ago. Bypassing The Mouse, William headed straight to Chip and Dale. The bonus is that there is never a line to see "Chick and Dale," as he called them. I learned that Chip has the brown nose, like a chocolate chip. The vast knowledge I hold!

So fast forward to this past Christmas. Santa manuvers his sleigh down an aisle at Toys R Us and BAM! -there sits an animatronic chipmunk. It chirps, it moves, it is the best thing Santa has ever seen. Santa knows that this $9.99 gift will be the one that childhood memories are made of.

On Christmas morning, William spotted the chipmunk right away, and declared "Her name is Mimi." Okay. Now we realize that Mimi must have been 8 months old at the time of her arrival, because William woke up recently shouting "It's Mimi's birthday." So what do you do when your animatronic chipmunk has a birthday? You have cake of course.

And the next day when your child wakes up and says "It's Mimi's birthday again." You say "Ah....no."