Sans Offspring

We had a rare kid-less day. Rock Star is still in Boston getting water-logged. The East Coast has gotten hit with some horrific storms, but I don’t think it’s dampened my son’s vacation in any way. (Pun intended. Aren't I clever?) Little Squirt is still spending time with his Fairy Godmother and her family; cavorting at the Museum of Science and Industry, where I’ve heard he has driven a similated plane around the world. Now he’ll never want to come home.

Super Hubs and I drove our kid-less selves up to Lake Geneva where we browsed charming little shops and spent $10 on a jar of salsa. We ate lobster bisque for lunch, and then sat on a bench and watched the windsurfers. It was 79 degrees and sunny, and we pretended we were on vacation.

I love being a mother; it’s truly my favorite thing to be. But every now and then, it’s fun to just be two. (Don’t tell my kids. I wouldn't want them to feel badly.)

Solo Child Tour Agenda

Aahhh.....Spring Break. Rock Star is having the time of his life in Boston. I keep getting texts from him, saying things like, “Not coming home ever,” and “Hot girls here. Can I stay longer?” Even though the East Coast has been deluged with a rainstorm to beat all, he is more than content to having his own Parent-less, Brother-less vacay.

Little Squirt has also been relishing being a Lonely Only, and we’ve attempted to plan a daily event. On the first day of his Solo Child Tour, we ate dinner at his favorite pizza restaurant. He told his father, when Super Hubs walked in the door from work, “Dad- good news! I don’t have to set the table because we’re going out for pizza! I get to pick (the kind) and you get to pay!”

We visited Medieval Times where Little Squirt soaked up every bit of the Middle Ages happenings. He wasn’t so fond of eating tomato bisque without a spoon, but he watched the Jousting Performance with wide-eyed wonder and a bit of apprehension. “Did that knight really die??” he exclaimed, brandishing his new light-up blingy sword.

Brunch with the Easter bunny and cousins was how Little Squirt spent Palm Sunday, and Build-A-Bear and Rain Forest Cafe with friends was Monday's agenda. Even with a menagerie of animals to choices, he picked a Camouflage bear to add to his growing collection. He dressed him in a carefully chosen Batman costume, and named him “Luigi.”

Tonight he is having a sleepover at one of my BFF’s home. He calls Lauree his “Fairy Godmother,” and she has a trip for them to a Chicago museum planned for tomorrow. So it’s been a fun and full week for my youngest, and I worry how he is going to adjust back to normal life next week with its ordinariness. Maybe it’ll help if he sticks Luigi in his backpack to accompany him to school.

Spring Break

Now begins Easter Break. Child #1 is away at college, Child #2 is heading to Boston, and Child #3 is thrilled that he will get to be a Lonely Only for the week. We have a smorgasbord of activities planned for him to guarantee a non-lonely, non-boring week.

Rock Star is presently at the airport, sitting at the gate, waiting for his flight. He will be staying with our very cool aunt and uncle who live in Boston. Rock Star has been itching to visit that fair city for a while now, because his favorite band, Dropkick Murphys live there. I don’t know if he has his brain wrapped around the size of Boston, and expects to run into them at a local diner or something. Who knows? But when our uncle offered to host Rock Star for Spring Break, he jumped at the chance.

I am thrilled to be raising a daughter along with sons, and variety is only one of the many reasons. But one way in which they seem to be from vastly different planets is because of how they pack. Butterfly came home for Spring Break with 7 pairs of shoes and enough fashion scarves to make pretty a savannah-full of giraffes. Rock Star, on the other hand, threw two pairs of jeans, a coupla’ t-shirts and his undies into my suitcase. On second thought, he added a cosmetic bag containing his toothbrush and deodorant. And that was that. He’d completed the task in 4 minutes, and there was enough room left in the suitcase to smuggle Little Squirt to Boston, if we were inclined. (We decided no.)

So now as my middle child sits by his lonesome at the airport gate (with his ipod attached to his ear, no doubt), I worry. It’s his first solo trip. Will he indeed hear the boarding announcement, with his ipod attachment? What if he misses his flight? Will he know enough not to accept a ticking package from a random passenger? What if he leaves his carry-on at the gate? Will he then be bored on the plane, and throw pretzels at the flight attendants, thus committing a felony, which will cost us his collge-savings in attorney fees??!

Oh, so many worries!! It’s a shame that I gave up wine for Lent. Now I’ll have to relax tonight with a glass of lemon water.

Loving Literature

It’s my Year of Living Selfishly, and I’m trying to do some things that I’ve always wanted to do but never thought I had time. Or I’ve intended to do them Someday. Later. My father-in-law’s death made me realize that I need to stop and smell the lilacs a bit more and turn Someday into Present Day. So I am taking up yoga and saying YES to the random vacation and trying to eat more Indian food. (I absolutely love curry.) And I’m going to splurge for my birthday and buy a fabulous painting to put over our bed. My self of last year would have balked and thought, “Why waste money on a work of art that very few people will see?” But my current self in the Year of Living Selfishly says, “My husband and I shall see it every night. The blues and yellows are the color combo that soothe my soul the most, so we’ll indulge.”

Another thing that I have always wanted to do is join a Book Club, but it felt like a luxury that my schedule could not afford. But, in this Year of Living Selfishly, I decided to start up one myself. I invited several friends that I know share my passion for reading. They are interesting, knowledgeable, and read a variety of genres. They are the friends who hand me a copy of novel and say, with sparkling eyes, “You have got to read this!” Or they listen with interest when I describe a book I’m enthralled with and ask, “Can I borrow it when you’re done?”

Our little group met last night, and discussed The Girls of Riyadh over Thai food and wine. I thoroughly enjoyed dishing about the book and hearing my friends’ perspectives and learning and growing. It was an evening of celebrating three of my life-long favorite things: Friends, books and food. I had so much fun that I kicked myself for not doing this a decade ago!

I found a fantastic book club website that gives all kinds of tips and ideas, and book recommendations. We are going to meet monthly, taking turns choosing the books and meeting place. If you are a book lover, I highly recommend joining or founding a book club.

“I cannot live without books.” (Thomas Jefferson)
I am so glad to have found some comrades who feel the same!

Bouncing Is What Tiggers Do Best

I have been lacking in Pep & Vinegar for most of this week. Super Hubs and I have battled a congested sinusy-thing for a good 10 days, which has caused subsequent sleeplessness. Either I cannot sleep because I cannot breathe, or I cannot sleep because my spouse cannot breathe and therefore snores. I don’t thrive well on little sleep. I get passive and unproductive.

Yesterday I had one and a half cups of coffee when I woke up, and then a bottomless cup of very strong coffee during the two hours I was at church meetings. My cup was never quite empty; I just adding a little more coffee and a little more cream and so forth. By the time I got home, I realized I was strung out on caffeine. I experienced jitters, a racing mind, and I couldn’t relax enough to read the paper. My frizzly-jizzly self broke a glass while cleaning up the kitchen. I jumped about the house with grand schemes to accomplish much, but I couldn’t seem to concentrate long enough to get anything done.

We had friends over for dinner that evening, and I was still wired those five hours later. I felt like Tigger on speed, although my bouncing now took the form of verbal diarrhea; talking rapidly with stream-of-conscience wordiness. I had an out-of-body experience in which I could see my Highly Caffeinated Tigger-On-Speed Self yammering away to my friends about everything without taking a breath, and I wanted to yell, “Shut up, already!” but my Tigger-On-Speed Self paid absolutely no mind. My poor, long-suffering friends.

My mind was still a live wire up until around 5 this morning, when I suddenly crashed, right in time to get up for the day. (Big sigh.) Now I’m foggy-brained and passive and lethargic. I considered drinking coffee to revitalize my Pep & Vinegar, but I don’t want to create the same vicious cycle. I think that yesterday I used up all my allotted energy for the month. It’s all downhill from here. I’m getting on my Eeyore.

The Prayer Of St. Patrick

It was said that St. Patrick prayed the Breastplate hymn every morning. The entire prayer is very long, so I've only included a few verses:

I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through the belief in the threeness,
Through confession of the oneness
Of the Creator of Creation....

...I arise today
Through God's strength to pilot me:
God's might to uphold me,
God's wisdom to guide me,
God's eye to look before me,
God's ear to hear me,
God's word to speak for me,
God's hand to guard me,
God's way to lie before me,
God's shield to protect me,
God's host to save me....

...Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down, Christ when I arise,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day from this Irish lass to my reader friends!

Oh, My Aching Everything!

ACHOO! (Pardon me while I blow my nose.)

I have had a nasty upper respiratory virus for the past 5 days. It seems to be stronger than a cold but less virile than the flu. I don’t know what it is, but I’m calling it a Wannabe Flu. I think I caught it from my daughter, who passed it on to me with her good-bye hug as she headed back to college last week.

Usually, at the first sign of an illness onset, I use my Anti-Virus Arsenal of Airborne, green tea & probiotic yogurt. That no-fail triad combination usually nips it in the bud, and I feel better by Day #3. But this Wannabe Flu has shown great resistance to my wellness attempts. My no-fail failed! The Wannabe Flu has cursed me with a fever, sore throat, congestion, and general malaise. It’s now Day #6, and I’m fearing I’m getting a sinus infection.

Because we share a bed along with toothpaste tube, it was inevitable that Super Hubs would catch this from me. He came home from work yesterday with the same drippy red nose that I’ve been sporting. After dinner, we asked our teen boy to do the dishes and tend to our little boy. We put on our jammies, downed some motrin and benadryl, and crawled into bed with a pile of books we hoped to make a dent in. By 8pm, we were fast asleep, lights still on.

Ahh.....romance.

Catatonic?

I will, no doubt, be the neighborhood Crazy Cat Lady in my old age. And I’m okay with that. There’s something about felines that tug on my heartstrings a little more than any other animal. (PLEASE do not tell my dachshund I said that! I love him. I do! But he's not a cat.)

I’ve been proudly owned by seven kitties thus far. A few were strays that we fostered for a while, then they moved on to new homes. And there was one who wouldn’t stop leaving nasty things on my bed as she was too lazy to make a detour to the litter box. It was a deal-breaker for our relationship, and she was promptly moved to new quarters. It broke my heart.

Currently I have two gorgeous, well-behaved kitties, but I was open to a third. When a friend’s father recently died, leaving three cats homeless, I agreed to adopt one. Miss Tabitha arrived yesterday; a dark brown tabby with stunning green eyes. I’ve barely gotten to know her, as she has spent the past 10 hours hiding behind my washing machine, catatonic-like. She has been traumatized since the death of her daddy. Super Hubs and I will spent our Friday evening doing some large appliance moving and calling on Rock Star, our Cat Whisperer. I’ll keep you posted.

Oh, Father Time- How Could You?

Butterfly and her boyfriend spent the past 5 days at home, squeezing in some time with us during Spring Break before her Lacrosse practice gets underway. We spent Friday night as a family, watching dvds of the kids as babies. My thoughtful Super Hubs had all of our family videos converted to dvds as a Christmas present for me. It had been years since I’d seen these movies of the kids, and I came away with two conclusions:
1.) Some of my hairstyles in the past 2 decades should be illegal.
2.) It’s crazy how quickly time passes.
As I watched my Past Self hold babies, celebrate holidays, and vacation, I wanted to reach into the tv and grab those years back and slow them down.

The little pig-tailed strong-willed beauty I watched toddle around with a sand pail now goes to college two states away. And when she comes home for her quick visits, I have to share her with family and friends. She’s away, more than she’s here.

The sweet, solemn infant boy with exotic eyes who lied around like a lump still lies around like a lump. But he’ll be getting his Driver’s License next month, and he just went to his first High School dance with a date.

And my last child, the one whose babyhood I was going to savor to make it last forever? It didn’t work. He’s now 7 going on Middle Age and wants to shave. He believes he’s too old to cuddle since he’s in first grade.

Sigh. Where...when...how did life go by so quickly when I didn’t want it to? I loved those moments of young motherhood! Are the best years gone?! I’ve been wrestling with these thoughts all week.

Okay, Time. You will not scoff at me! You may win in the end, but I’m not going out without a fight. The years to come (and, please, God, let there be many) will be blessed. This I know.


"I am not afraid of tomorrow, for I have seen yesterday and I love today."
-- William Allen White

The Dip's Favorite Dip

One of my absolute favorite things about my vacation to FL was eating a yummy Indonesian dip I was served at a beachfront cocktail party. It was nestled in a plate of raw veggies, and I completely ravished it, even dribbling a flew blobs onto the white carpet. (You cannot take me anywhere without an Embarrassing Occurrence. I swear, I am worse than a 3 year-old. Just ask my friends.)

I have since acquired the recipe, and decided to try my hand at making it. I feared it wouldn’t taste nearly as scrumptious without the scenic ocean view and tropical breezes evading my senses. But I was oh so wrong! This recipe is every bit as magical when eaten from the ho-hum monotony of my mid-western kitchen.

I have made the dip twice now, in hopes it would entice me to eat more veggies. Which it has. But then I began dipping in pieces of French bread, then moved onto tortilla chips, and then Oreos. (Big sigh.)

Here’s the recipe. May you enjoy it as much as I do!

INDONESIAN DIP
2/3 c. crunchy peanut butter
6 T dark brown sugar
1/2 c. lemon juice
4 T chili sauce
1 tsp. soy sauce
Combine all ingredients. Refrigerate at least 24 hours before serving. (If you can wait that long, you are far more of an Integrous Rule-Follower than I, and I shall salute you.)

The Long Red Road

Yesterday we went to see a matinee performance of The Long Red Road at the Goodman Theater. We drove down to the city with our friends, Peggy and Butch, and enjoyed lunch first. I adore the Goodman Theater because of its cozy quaintness, charm and intimate seating. We were able to get front-row seats and sit just a foot away from the stage. I could have reached out and touched the actors! (But I didn’t. No worries there. Super Hubs was vigilant to see that I behaved myself.) Being up close to see the mannerisms and expressions of these brilliant performers at so evocative a drama was thrilling and deeply personal. I love to act; hence, this art form makes my heart soar.

The matinee patrons were an interesting motley group of largely AARPers The lady above me spilled an entire bag of M&Ms which trickled down the steps with a kerplunk, kerplink, kerplunk, and were then kicked under the seat by a man down the row. Another senior dropped her cell phone from the mezzanine onto the back of a man sitting on the main floor. I heard a ringing sound throughout Act 1 of the play, which I recognized later as coming from the hearing aid of the woman sitting next to me. Ahhh.....I felt young and spry for the first time in a long time. Thank you, Theater Patron Seniors!

When the performance was over, we happened to run into the playwright, Brett C. Leonard. Can I express how thrilling that meeting was for me? I shall try. It.Was.Profoundly.Exciting.To me!! I babbled to him about how amazing I felt the play was, using eloquent verbiage such as “awesome” and “super.” Though I sounded like a star-struck 13-year-old, he was gracious and humble and seemed sincerely touched by our encouragement.

How I love the theater! I must get season tickets somewhere someday soon. (Note to self: Put that on my Bucket List.)

"I regard the theater as the greatest of all art forms, the most immediate way in which a human being can share with another the sense of what it is to be a human being."
Oscar Wilde