Mom, Do You Love Me?

When Katy was little my mother-in-law bought her a book entitled 'Mama, Do You Love Me?' and it quickly became our favorite. I loved reading it to both girls and it was the first book Katy could "read" herself - she memorized it. The book was written by Barbara M. Joosse and it's about a little girl challenging her mom with difficult situations in order to prove her mom's unconditional love. It's a real treasure of a book that I love to this day.  With Katy's engagement, I thought I would change things up a bit for "our" story.

 Mom, Do You Love Me? the Latham way

Mom, do you love me?

Yes I do Dear One.

How much?

I love you more than my autographed Dirk jersey, more than the 2011 Mavericks, even more than Elvis.

How long?

I'll love you until the Rangers win the World Series, until Pete Rose is inducted into the Hall of Fame, and until Donald Trump becomes President.

Mom, he's already President.

Oh dear, well as Meat Loaf says 2 out of 3 ain't bad.    

Mom, what if I took your autographed Dirk jersey camping, and I tried to be careful, and I tried to hang on to it, but I slipped and it fell into the campfire?

WHAT? Why do you have my Dirk jersey? Camping? You hate to camp, it fell into the campfire? Are you kidding me? I'd be madder than hell is what I would be.

Mom, you aren't doing it right and you said that you loved me more than the Dirk jersey.

Well that was before you turned into a clumsy thief.

It's supposed to be something you cherish so you can show that you love me unconditionally. 

I cherish your dad, take him, I bet you can't drop HIM into a campfire.

Mom. Do it like the book.

In the book the kid broke ptarmigan eggs, she didn't drop her mom's Dirk jersey into a raging inferno. The mom can go buy more eggs, I can't get another autographed Dirk jersey, do you realize how many kids I had to shove out of the way to get him to sign it? I've got a Mike Modono jersey that isn't signed, take that.

Mom.

       

OK. Then I would be sorry. But still, I would love you.

What if I took the Modono jersey too?

Then, Dear One, I would be very angry. But still, I would love you. The kid in the book was never this bad. 

What if I said that Tony Romo was a better quarterback than Roger Staubach, that Aretha Franklin wasn't the Queen of Soul, and that Elvis was fat and never had any talent?

Then I would question my parenting skills but still I would love you.

What if I became a 2006 Heat fan?

Then I would be worried.

What if I got a LeBron jersey, a Wade jersey, and a Bosch jersey and wore one of them every time I saw you?

Then, Dear One, I would be very sad. But still, I would love you.

What if I turned into a Yankees fan?

Then I would be surprised (and disgusted.)

What if I said I didn't know who Nolan Ryan was?

Then I would be surprised and a little scared and would question my life choices.

What if I started dating a guy from Iowa, that was a Cubs and a Bulls fan, and I started wearing Cubs and Bulls baseball caps?

I don't know, how big is his farm and is it MJ Bulls or current Bulls?

Mom, not everyone in Iowa is a farmer and I don't know what Michael Jackson has to do with anything. 

OK. For real she knows who Jordan is, I'm not THAT bad of a parent.

Underneath the caps, you would be you, and I would love you.

Mom, what if I told you I loved him and wanted to marry him?

You want to marry this guy? 

You sure he doesn't have a farm? Has he always been a Cubs fan or did he climb on the bandwagon after they broke the curse?

Never a farmer, always a Cubs fan.

Then, if you love him, I will love him too.

There is nothing that you can EVER do to make me stop loving you.

Even if I burned the Dirk jersey?

Even then. I will love you forever and for always, because you are my Dear One.

                      

Write, Right?

The last few times I’ve attempted to write something, anything, I’ve had help.

Inexplicably, every time I sit in the chair in front of my computer, I almost immediately have a visitor. A curious, attentive, too-smart child who is fascinated by every keystroke. It’s almost like there’s a little alarm in the chair that flashes lights all over the rest of the house, signaling that I have started to relax.

Son: What are you doing?

Me: Trying to write.

Son: About what?

Me: Well, I just had an idea but it’s not really all worked out yet. Sometimes I just type until it comes together.

Son: (bewildered face) That’s weird.

Me: (now with complete writer’s block) I know. Have you had your bath?

Son: Yep.

Me: Brushed teeth?

Son: Uh-huh.

Me: (typing a few lame sentences) Is your homework finished?

Son: (sigh) Hours ago. (reads what I've written, out loud) That doesn’t make sense.

Me:  Right. (typing more) Aren’t you thirsty?

Son: I just drank a whole bunch of water. (burps to prove it, then reads more aloud) You made a typo.

Me: (a teeny bit annoyed) I’ll fix that. Thanks.

Son: (giggling as I make the same typo again) Can we look at Pinterest now?

Me: Well, I was trying to write something. (I consider suggesting that he give it a try, then decide against it -- I'm not in the mood to know if a 10-year-old is better than I am at this.)

Son: Puh-leese? It will just take a minute. I want to see how many “likes” I got on my board.

Me: I don’t think Pinterest works like that. Sometimes people pin your pins, but mostly it’s for you to keep track of stuff you like.

Son: (clearly disappointed) Oh. Can we look at your facebook then?

Me: Oh my, what time is it? Maybe I should tuck you in?

Son: Can I get a membership to Roblox? Or maybe a cell phone?

Me: (slightly exasperated, wondering how I thought I’d ever write a couple of decent paragraphs) Not tonight. Hey look, it’s nearly 8:30. We should go upstairs.

Son: Why do you get to play on the computer whenever you want?

Me: Well, because I'm a grownup and -- believe it or not -- I'm not always playing.

Son: Not. I’m hungry. Do we have any ice cream?

Me: Oh, no, you’re going to sleep now. You can eat breakfast first thing in the morning. But not ice cream.

Son: No fair. (repeating sentences he read, now from memory and in what sounds to me like a mocking tone) Still doesn’t make sense.

Me: (sarcastically) Thank you for critiquing my work.

Son: (brightly) Hey, can we order some stuff?

Me: (slowly closing laptop) No, not right now…

What's Everybody Doing?

There's a kid at school whose parents I'd like to meet.
This youngster is causing all sorts of unrest around our house.
His name? Everybody. I've heard more about him than I care to know.
Maybe your kids know him?

Entertainment and Electronics (the most important topic for tween boys):

• Everybody has a television in his bedroom.
• Everybody has a DS, and he even sneaks it to school in his backpack.
• Everybody plays video games after school, all he wants.
• Everybody's read The Hunger Games. He has seen the movies, too.
• Everybody plays Call of Duty and other M-rated games.
• Everybody has his own cell phone. With a data plan.
• Everybody's seen Ted.

Other:

• Everybody gets flaming hot Cheetos, every day, in the cafeteria. If he doesn't have those, he brings in a big bag of Takis.
• Everybody throws away the school-lunch vegetables.
• Everybody rides in the front seat.
• Everybody drinks soft drinks for breakfast.
• Everybody says "those" words.
• Everybody cuts the corners when he's running laps.
• Everybody wears shorts to school when it's 40 degrees outside.

If you haven't guessed, I hear about these because Everybody's life is so much better and cooler than ours. I've resisted asking the clichéd Mom question -- "if Everybody jumped off a cliff..." because I don't really want to hear the answer. 

My kids are just 10. They're too young to fully understand the reasons why we don't do the same things Everybody does. So I get the enviable role of making many unpopular decisions around here, like not stocking blue Gatorade or soft drinks in the fridge. Like blocking content on the TV and computers, and limiting screen time. Enforcing chore time before the fun stuff. Insisting that there's no SpongeBob on the weekends (that's a personal thing -- I can't stand the sound of it!). These are the kinds of rules that unlimited-do-what-you-want Everybody doesn't have. Don't get me wrong -- we don't live some kind of sequestered, deprived existence. Just everything in moderation, and in its own time.

Why not just ease up and follow Everybody's lead? Part of it, I think, is that while some of these are (in my opinion anyway) basically unhealthy choices, others represent adult activities that distract from being a kid. If you've already seen the R-rated movies and played the M-rated games as a young child, what will you find amusing as you grow older and become an adult? If you're tied to a screen during all of your free time, how will you learn to play soccer? If you don't learn healthy eating habits as a youngster, won't it be twice as hard to learn them later? As someone who has been an adult for a loooong time, I feel qualified to say that there is plenty of time for the grown-up stuff...and not nearly long enough to just be a kid.

As I recall, when I was a kid Everybody was in school with me too. But it seems like that child was a lot more harmless, back then. Everybody wore Calvin Klein jeans and she had a phone in her room. I think that was it.

I think I prefer another kid I've heard about, Nobody. Nobody wears a coat on cold days. Nobody loves vegetables. Nobody sings in music class. Nobody does the extra credit assignment. Yes, that's my kind of young person!

The boys go back to school this week after a long winter break away from Everybody. Gee, I can't wait to find out what he got for Christmas. And what he saw...and played.

The Awesome Responsibility of Building a Bear

This is one of those “you just never know” stories…and perhaps something to think about as you decide what Christmas gifts to get for the adorable children in your life.

One year when our nieces were young enough to love stuffed animals, we decided to give them a trip to Build-A-Bear for Christmas. How sweet! What fun! And they enjoyed it – choosing an animal (easy for one, difficult for the other), stuffing it, picking out an outfit and taking it home to be theirs forever. My sister-in-law told me that one of the girls had really, really gotten into Build-A-Bear and after several years of requesting gift cards and more trips there, she had quite a collection of sweet stuffed toys.

All good things come back around (or something like that) and several years later when my boys were about three, that’s exactly what happened. Their aunt, very good at remembering what little kids like, chose the Christmas present “trip to Build-A-Bear.” While a gift card with a promise isn’t very interesting to a toddler, in January when we actually made the trip to the mall with their aunt and older cousins the excitement set in.

There are choices. Lots of them. Trey almost immediately chose a sweet brown dog. Brett, after some deliberation, selected a monkey. They each selected a sound (barking for the dog and ooh-ooh-ooh for the monkey) and proceeded to the stuffing station. Instructed to pick a heart from the bin, they sweetly kissed those before the stuffing began. As you can tell from the pictures, this is very serious work.





The beginning: Every new friend gets a heart and some love!

Partway through the stuffing process, the hearts went in. And when the animals were sufficiently filled, they were swiftly sewn up and presented to the boys. Off to the “bathtub” for cleanup and brushing, and then to the options for clothes. Ultimately, we ended up at the computer stations for registration and NAMING. On the spot, before you really know your new friend, he or she must be named. Lots of ideas were tossed in the ring and tossed back out, but we finally landed on Ginger (full name Gingerbread) and George. A couple of house-boxes and pictures later, the adventure was complete. What an excellent experience!

But this was just the beginning. The trip was such a success that for many birthdays and other occasions afterward, the only request was to return to Build-A-Bear for another friend. And each time, Trey chose quickly and without regret while Brett changed his mind three or four times before deciding. Every time, the naming was the most critical step. Franklin. Brownie. Ruff. Mambo. Coconut. Sugar. Sally Max. Rusty. At DisneyWorld, they even have a Build-A-Dino, which spawned Bob and Tex. There have been adoptions, picked up at consignment sales, like new and apparently unloved by the children who made them, which is unbearably sad. Pudge. Patches. Hedwig. What started out so simply has snowballed into an uncontrollable collection of fur, all with the same pawprint tag and satin heart deep inside their stuffing. There are other stuffed animals too, but those are always the favorites.

Ginger and George are still with us. They have been well-loved and have survived numerous "rides" in the washer and dryer...they've also had a few return visits back to the store for repairs and sound removal (the sound wasn’t conducive to sleeping with the toy, as it was prone to start up whenever someone rolled over). Eventually I had to set up an animal hospital at home in the laundry room, because I was trained well at Six Flags in the art of sewing up plush.

These days we're practically overrun with these stuffed personalities. They've certainly provided a lot of fun and comfort to the boys, and sometimes a sweet child will offer his favorite to me, and tell me to sleep with it (I do). One day, I imagine these toys will be discards, no longer needed or wanted.  But I hope that's not too soon...for now, the kids can be kids and love their stuffed toys if they want to. There’s plenty of time to grow up later.

My Resume

Last month Beth had a post about her job search (http://realfriendsrealfoodreallife.blogspot.com/2013/10/job-search-2013.html) and it got me thinking about what my resume would look like.

If you are young - make sure you keep up with where you work, what you did, and when you did it. I personally don't work right now. I'm a housewife, domestic director, stay at home mom, home manager, etc...I totally suck at it. If I worked for a company they would have fired me by now and changed the locks on the doors. I last worked in about 2004 - I'm not exactly sure. It might have been 2007. Give or take a few years. This lapse in memory doesn't make a great resume. I worked at my very first job (Six Flags Over Texas) off and on for 13 years. Then I dabbled in banking (teller & new accounts), then at a software company that works with car and truck dealerships. My last job I also worked with car and truck dealerships. At that last job the great part of it was that everyone in my department was male. What's so great about that you ask? Typical conversation:

Man: Damn, you look like you slept in your clothes.
Me: Yeah, I know. My clothes were in the dryer and since I already dried them 5 times I just said to hell with it and grabbed whatever came out first. (I often run the dryer several times because I don't pull the clothes out right away.)
Man: Yeah, I've done that before.
Case closed.

When working with women - same scenario - I'm just making up names here:
Jen: Did you see what Patty is wearing today?
Jan: Oh my gosh yes. What do you think happened?
Jen: (jokingly)Oh, she probably messed around on her way to work today.
Jen: Oh really...

Jen: Have you heard about Patty?
Kat: No, but I saw what she was wearing today. What's up with that?
Jen: Well, don't tell anybody else but I heard she might be having an affair.
Kat: Seriously? Do you know who it's with?
Jen: No, haven't heard yet.

Kat: Did you hear the news about Patty?
Jill: No, but she looks terrible today - looks like she just pulled the first thing she found out of the dryer.
Kat: Well, don't tell anyone but she's having an affair and Paul kicked her out of the house. She had to sleep outside.
Jill: That is terrible. You just never know about people.

Jill to me: Oh Patty, I'm so sorry to hear about you and Paul.
Me: What?
Jill: You know, about your divorce. At least the weather was good last night.
Me: WTH?

Anyway on with the resume. I absolutely don't remember the dates of when I worked. There isn't a blank for 90's. Or 2000'ish. I have some weird times on my work history. At the first software company I worked for after I had my daughter Katy I only worked 1 week out of the month teaching classes. My dad kept Katy for me during that week. Then, when Katy went to preschool I went back to work full time. Then I had Amelia. They let me work from home which was great when she was a baby. Then she could walk. Not so easy.

Me on phone with client:
Yes, let me just
Amelia: Mom, I'm stuck.
Me: Sir, can you hold for me just a minute?
Me to Amelia: Stuck on what?
Amelia: The wall.
Me: What?
Amelia: I'm stuck on the wall.

She actually climbed the wall. I can't describe it, but she did it. I pulled her down and told her not to climb up the wall anymore.

Me: Sir, thank you for waiting. Now, what we can
Amelia: Mom, I'm stuck again.
Me: Sir I'm really sorry but I need to put you on hold again.
Me to Amelia: What now?
Me as I'm pulling her down from the dresser: Don't climb on ANYTHING. Go play with your toys or something but do not climb. I want your feet always on the floor. Got it?
Amelia: Got it.
Me: Sir, once again I'm sorry..
Amelia: Mom, I had an assident (she couldn't say accident.)
Me: Sir, can I just call you right back?
Me to Amelia: What do you mean you had an accident?
Amelia: You told me not to climb on anything. I have to climb on the step stool to get on the potty. So I didn't climb. I did exactly what you asked.
Me: Oh....

So, I decided working from home wasn't a good idea for me at the time. Then, after she started school I worked again. Sometime in the 2000's to sometime in the 2000's. See how difficult a resume would be?

If I could just skip that resume part I'm sure I would nail the interview.

Job person: Well, your resume is a little sketchy. Can you fill in the gaps with better dates "the 90's" isn't very specific.
Me: No, not really.
Job person: Well, can you tell me what you did at these jobs?
Me: For the most part what they told me to do.
Job person: OK then. What skills do you bring to the job?
Me: Well, I'm on level 169 in Candy Crush. I'm very adept at Facebook but I don't really understand Twitter, that whole hashtag thing has me scratching my head, and wow - you should see me on Pinterest! You should follow my boards.
Job person: Ok, we will call you if we need you.
Me: You don't have my phone number yet.
Job person: That's OK. I will just make up up the numbers like you did.
Me: Hmmmm. That doesn't sound promising.              

So, I would have to really dig to find out real information about my work history. At this point at least I remember the companies I worked for but give me a few years and I won't even remember that. There should be a spot on applications for older applicants to just check I have a lot of experience but I don't remember when I acquired it. The devil is in the details.

Do You Know the Muffin Man?

Cooking is one of my favorite activities. It's a challenge from buying ingredients and choosing recipes to putting it all together. Since I'd have to do this every day whether I liked it or not, just to feed the guys around here, I decided a while back to just make it into a hobby.

Contrary to popular belief, I don't choose recipes specifically to torture or poison anyone...I'm just taking my job to keep them healthy seriously. My husband is great about praising my efforts in front of the kids (sometimes a little too much -- I actually know when something isn't that great) and he will eat anything I serve, as long as it doesn't have anything to do with tuna in a casserole.

So where's the trouble? Not surprisingly, it's with the kids. But we're not talking vegetables (they're pretty good at those)...it's the muffin. The simplest of breakfast foods, universally loved, is a huge challenge at our house. I've made carrot, zucchini and pumpkin muffins. Blueberry, strawberry and raspberry, as well as mixed-berry. Sour cream and buttermilk. Peanut butter and jelly. Muffins with ricotta cheese and with bananas. Cinnamon-topped. Glazed. Muffin tops and mini-muffins. Muffins shaped like donuts. Mostly, they are delicious. But the only ones the youngsters consistently get excited about either come from a boxed mix or are piled on a hotel breakfast buffet (also from a box).

I do try to put healthy, natural ingredients in the muffins I make -- which is a big reason to bother with baking from scratch. That means whole grain flour, fruit, yogurt (no hidden cauliflower or beets or anything at all subversive). And the boys are used to healthy stuff -- they have always eaten whole wheat bread and natural peanut butter and fruit spreads instead of jam. They consume tons of fruit and inhale healthy-ingredient pancakes like there is no tomorrow. Needless to say, no Twinkies or Kool-Aid have dared to enter this house (a subject for another post, no doubt).

A couple of years ago I wrote down this conversation with my sons after I served them fresh-from-the-oven oatmeal-raspberry muffins made with brown sugar and buttermilk. They looked and smelled lovely, like muffins should...lightly brown on top, no nuts, and even in a Toy Story paper liner with a cute, three-eyed alien on it. Here's how it went:

B -- (looking at muffin) Ew.
Me -- Oh, just try it.
B -- I hate these.
Me -- This is the first time I've ever made them.
B -- I still hate them.
Me -- How about taking a bite before you decide?
B -- (picking off a miniscule crumb) Yuck.
Me -- Really? How about an actual bite before you say that?
B -- (watches Pokemon and pretends I have left)
T -- (after a slightly bigger bite than his brother) I don't like these.
Me -- (curious) Can you tell me what you don't like?
T -- (helpfully) No.
Me -- I wonder how many other kids have freshly-baked muffins before school?
B & T -- (give me a look that clearly says, "that's an odd question")
Me -- (head for more coffee) Sigh.

After that, I took some time off from the Muffin Quest. Except for the occasional zucchini bread (which is not shaped even remotely like a muffin) I stopped with breakfast breads. Now that the weather is cooling a little, I might give it another go. They're older and more mature now, right? Surely I don't have to resort to a box to make this work. Maybe I'll try these: http://www.kingarthurflour.com/recipes/inside-out-pumpkin-muffins-recipe -- they look delicious to me!

I'll let you know how it goes. No matter what I do, I imagine they will eventually go off to college and stock their dorm rooms with little preservative-laden blueberry muffins from Hostess, wondering why they were so deprived all those years.