Meeting Flame-O

Little Squirt wants a lizard for Christmas. Not just wants. He covets, he longs for, he's begged for a lizard! The lizard is actually a downgrade, as his original want was for a pet dinosaur. After we explained to him that dinosaurs are obsolete, much like the VCR, and they don’t sell them at Petco, Little Squirt decided he’d settle for a lizard. He’d seen one he liked when we were in Cabo San Lucas in October. This little stalker had perched on a wall in the restaurant we frequented on the beach, and watched my son for the entire meal. He was there again later that week, and Little Squirt thought it’d be fun to have a pet lizard just like the Mexican one that would run all over the walls of our house and scare his friends. I informed him about the reality of pet lizards living in terrariums. He was disappointed, but still persisted.

We did a little research. I polled pet shop employees and friends, and Little Squirt read a book from the library about lizards. We decided on a Bearded Dragon. Little Squirt confirmed his decision by asking Santa, both in person and by letter. He told me, today (and I quote), “I won’t have delight on Christmas morning if Santa doesn’t bring me a Bearded Dragon.” So how could we say no?

With Little Squirt in school today, Super Hubs and I set up a terrarium, then made a visit to Petsmart. There were four baby Bearded Dragons available. Three were hanging out together on a rock and being all cliquey. I really hate cliques. The fourth little guy was the tiniest, sitting by his lonesome self in the corner. He was the newest. He’d just flown in from FL by Fed-Ex a few hours before, and was trying to warm up. I’ve always had a heart for the underdog. We took him home and called him Flame-O, the name Little Squirt has chosen for his new pet-to-be.

While Super Hubs added a big rock and cactus to the terrarium, I bonded with Flame-O. He closed his eyes and melted into the palm of my hand. I couldn’t see him breathing, and thought he was dead. “Oh, dang the luck, I've killed Little Squirt’s $60 Christmas dragon, ten minutes after leaving the store!" I thought. I’m grateful that Flame-O opened his eyes just then, or I would have had a breakdown. Apparently he was just taking a little nap.

I think Flame-O is acclimating well to his new living quarters, considering his traumatic cross-country trip last night by air. He’s living covertly in Butterfly’s bedroom until Christmas. Currently, he’s sunbathing on his rock underneath the UV light by the heating pad. It’s 80 degrees in his pimped-out crib, and I’m feeling kind of jealous. Did I mention he has his own pool? If it weren’t for his diet of live crickets, I’d consider moving in with him.

Super Hubs and I have always let our kids get pets of their choosing. I am a firm believer in letting children wonder and learn about responsibility and the beauty of creation by taking care of a living creature. Pets are part of the making of a happy childhood, in my opinion. They do come with a cost of time and mess, but happy memories are priceless. Le’ts hope Flame-O makes years of memories with my boy.

Moose And Black Ice

Having lived in the Midwest since I was 5, I am accustomed to brutal winters. I really don’t mind them so much, although, given the option to move to Hawaii, I’d trade my Uggs for a lei faster than you can say “Waikiki Beach.” But, for now, like typical Midwesterners, we make do, don our winter woolies, whine and complain to our neighbors, and get through the coldness like soldiers. Soon enough it’ll be spring again.

But the worst thing about the winter, in my humble opinion, is the hazardous driving conditions the bad weather brings. This morning was one of those times when we opted to stay home all day because of the blizzard the night before. We’d been “living” at church for the past four days for Little Squirt’s long rehearsals. He was in the children’s choir as part of the two-night Christmas show. He was tired from being out late several nights in a row, and we were tired. I canceled a church meeting, and we decided to enjoy a comfortable Sabbath at home in front of the cheery fireplace.

But Rock Star begged to go to church. He wanted to drive himself, but I was a bit leery. There was a few inches of snow on the ground, and the winds were howling. I worry about my teens when they drive in the winter. As an aside, I also worry about my teens when they don’t drive in the winter. I worry about my teens in general, no matter what they are doing or not doing. Somebody’s got to do the worrying in the family, and I do it really well. So it’s become my job. In character, I told Rock Star, “No.” No driving today.

But he continued imploring. He wanted to go to his youth group and see his friends there. Please, couldn’t he take the car? He’d gotten up early and showered, even. Super Hubs backed him up and said the roads seemed to be clear. It was two against one. So I thought and I worried and I thought some more. And I felt guilty about saying no. It wasn’t as if Rock Star wanted to take the car to hit the strip bars. He wasn’t asking to pick up supplies to make crystal meth with his friends. He’s a good kid who simply wanted to go to church on the morning after a blizzard, and he promised he’d drive carefully. And what good parent doesn’t allow their teenager to go to church? So I relented. But then I lectured him on everything I could remember about winter driving. I covered black ice and defrosters, driving into a skid and avoiding moose collisions, just for good measure. I could have passed as an employee of the DMV with my safety tips. My anxiety melted away as Rock Star nodded his head intelligently. Who was I kidding? He probably only heard, “Blah blah blah blah blah blah.”

He drove off with the car, promising to text me upon arrival. Twenty minutes went by. Then another ten. I texted him, “R u there yet?” The clock ticked, my anxiety rose, and then Super Hubs received a text. Rock Star had hit some black ice on a side street close to church. The car fishtailed, and hit a fire hydrant. The bumper was smashed on one side. He was otherwise fine, but shaken.

Super Hubs drove to church to bring him home, and then took the car to the shop. As Rock Star came in the door, I bit my tongue to keep from saying, “I told you it wasn’t a good idea to drive today!” Instead, I hugged my tearful son, feeling so grateful he hadn’t hit a semi or gotten badly hurt. Bumpers can be repaired.

But the whole point of my post is this: In the animal kingdom, the injured member of the pack is viewed as a liability to the other members. The weak one is often left behind or killed by the members. But not in my little pack. In a crisis, my kids come through for each other. Little Squirt, horrified that his big brother was in a car accident, weepily made him a card, covered with hearts: “You are my buthr. I dont wot you to git hurt. P.S. I wish you a mare Crismus.” Butterfly called her bro from college, speaking words of encouragement and advisement, as only big sisters can do.

I’m proud of my little pack. Rock Star felt the love.

Waiting......For A Long Ago Birth

It was the perfect night, if you didn’t mind the cold. I certainly didn’t. Not last night. One hundred luminaries guided the way to the chapel, where we were treated to a beautiful Advent service. It was led by the team that leads my spiritual formation program. The spiritual director of the program is a woman whom I’ve admired for a long time. She’s also an accomplished author whose books I’ve read, over and over.

Super Hubs and I were a little in awe as we were invited back to her home for a Celebration. Her beautiful house was nestled amid a grove of large, snowy pines. We enjoyed delicious food and wine by the toasty fireplace. She was warmly hospitable, and truly present to everyone in her house. The real deal.

Last Christmas season, her writings inspired me to resurrect our Advent Wreath. It had been camping in a box in the basement for the past 14 years, when we left our childhood Catholic faith for an evangelical, non-liturgical church. A longing in me had surfaced to begin celebrating the rythms of the church year and teach them to my children. This author helped me to see this as a spiritual practice, and to appreciate the thrill of inhabiting the story of the Christian year.

So, for the second year in a row, my Advent Wreath proudly sits in the middle of my kitchen table for the month. We light the appropriate candles over dinner, read a devotional with the kids, and pray together. I am pretty militant about making my family eating dinner together on most nights. I asked, the other evening, over a lit purple candle, for specific names of people that we could be in prayer for. Rock Star shared a name that was on his heart, and Super Hubs and I did as well. Little Squirt shook his head. “I’m not going to just pray for one person,” he said. “I’m going to pray right now for everyone in the entire world.” And he proceeded to say a long, 8yo-literate prayer that covered all people on the planet.

So, if you are reading this, know that the faith of a little boy brought your name straight up to God one frosty evening last week.

Thanksgiving Wth Smooth Stones

It was one of those magical holidays that seemed all Northern Lights and double rainbows.....

Butterfly came home for Thanksgiving break with Boyfriend, and I was thrilled to have all my babies sleep under one roof again. There’s something truly restful in rest when I can lie down for the night, knowing that my family is safe and accounted for. Until you have that experience in motherhood, you really don’t understand. I had a good few days of laughter and yummy food with the family, and heartfelt talks with my daughter.

On Thanksgiving morning, I stuck the buttered-up turkey into the oven, and we went to my parents for a lovely brunch. We arrived home three hours later, and the turkey was done to perfection; perfectly cooked and golden brown. I’ve only made about five Thanksgiving turkeys in my life, because most years we eat elsewhere. But when I make a turkey, it’s usually an education in patience. The turkey never seems to cook as quickly as it’s supposed to, and the popper is a tease who just suggests, by popping out, that the turkey may be done. Or it could be lying, and the turkey is still dripping a pink fluid and harboring botulism. It can be confusing and frustrating, but this year was the exception. The turkey was moist and tender and scrumptious as soon as we arrived home and were ready for it. It was beyond easy. Every dish seemed delectable this year, and Little Squirt, who was my kitchen helper, took all the credit.

When looking for some candlesticks the day before, I had found a bag of smooth stones in my cabinet. I placed three by each place setting, and, during dinner, asked each family member to think about times over the past year that they were grateful for. Amazingly, there was no rolling of the eyes from my teens. The tallest to the smallest participated with earnest. Each was thoughtful and contemplative as they shared stories of gratitude, and tossed their stones into the basket at the centerpiece. At the end of the dinner, the basket was full to the brim with smooth stones; visual remembrances of God’s love and provision for our family. And I saw deeper into the hearts of each of my children.

Our close friends came for dessert, later, and we sat in front of the fireplace and stuffed ourselves with various pies and cheesecake. It was the perfect end to the evening.

I’ve had some miserable holidays over my lifetime. We’ve been bombarded, on some Thanksgivings, with illnesses, annoyances or dysfunctions. But not this year. This year was pretty Norman Rockwell. It was magic.

Fun In The Frigid #3 & 4

I said I’d post about every Fun In The Frigid Date Nite, I’m combining #s 3&4, not because I’m woefully lazy but because life got woefully crazy. I had a paper to write, a 3-day retreat to attend, and Thanksgiving dinner to plan......I won’t bore you with the details.

Date Nite #3 occurred on one of those evenings when Super Hubs and I felt every one of our 29 (ahem) years of age. We had both been sitting comfortably in our easy chairs, debating if we should go out or not. It was a cold evening, and we feeling tired and achy and old, and wondering if there was maybe a Senior Center somewhere nearby where we could play a little bingo and gum some rice pudding. But then I thought of my parents, who are 68 and 70, and who still travel the world and ride camels and cross country ski and go para-sailing in Hawaii. Super Hubs and I are considerably younger, yet here we sat wondering if we should just stay home and knit afghans from our rockers. Pathetic. So, with new resolve, we primped and drove to Houlihan’s.

Houlihan’s is my favorirte “fall-back” restaurant for those evenings when my brain is tired and I can’t think of anywhere new and exciting to try. I enjoy the urban-feel atmosphere, and the food is a bit fun and edgy. I had my mandatory Date Nite Drink and a couple of my favorite small plates; the stuffed jumbo ‘shrooms and the white bean and artichoke hummus. Super Hubs had his usual something-made-with-beef.

I’m glad we got off our lazy buttskis and went out. It was a peaceful evening of shooting-the-breeze. I always have some kind of drama that I need to process, and Super Hubs is always a great listener. It’s a lesson in Mutuality: I’m his favorite Drama Queen, and he’s my favorite Therapist. Dysfunctional? Perhaps. But it works for us.

Date Nite #4 was last night. We shared our time with one of our favorite couples, Dave and Lauree. We’ve been friends for over a dozen years with this beautiful couple. Lauree is the sister I never had, and I know Doug thinks highly of Dave. The men are friends independently of Lauree and I, which can be rare with couple friends. Often times it’s the women creating the friendships, and the men just tag along for the ride. We ate yummily and gab-fested, and went home filled, both body and soul.

So there you are. Two dates in a nut shell.

Fun In The Frigid #2

I really hate it when LIFE interferes with my blogging time. Busy busy, so busy. But here goes with my recap of our Fun In The Frigid #2, four days tardy.

As much as I love date nights in which Super Hubs and I can catch up and enjoy each other, my extroverted heart loves to share our date nights with other people. We were invited to have dinner at the home of our dear friends, Peggy and Butch. Our other equally dear friends, Bonnie and Joe, were also invited.

Peggy, Bonnie and I were all part of a church drama team together for five years, so our friendships go way back. We have shared stage time, stage fright, learning and (mortifyingly) losing lines of scripts together. Peggy can make me laugh always. She is the friend I am most likely to get arrested with. I’ve never actually been arrested, but if I did, my guess is that Peggy would be with me at the time and a willing accomplice. (I hope, if she reads this, that she takes that as the high compliment it was intended.) And I think Bonnie might be there with the getaway car. Just a thought. But I truly believe she's that kind of friend.

The men went to spend time in the living room doing whatever it is men do at a dinner party, while the three of us women drank wine and caught up in the kitchen. I’ve had so many wonderful time with these women over the years, but we’ve not seen nearly enough of each other recently. It was sooo good to reconnect.

We ate tummy-yummy pineapple curry chicken, rice and carrots, and topped it all off with chocolate and mango sorbet. Then we relaxed with my favorite drink of all time; Chocovine. I discovered this heavenly combo of chocolate and cabernet on my trip to Florida last year. (Honestly. Why couldn't I have been the first genius to bottle this decadent concoction?? Duh!)

Ahh.....date nights with friends and Chocovine. My favorite things. And the Frigid wasn’t so frigid. The Frigid was actually a bit balmy. Perfection.

Fun In The Frigid #1

The Season of Cold has begun in the Midwest. This chilly, gloomy time of year has the potential to turn the gleeful into glum. But Super Hubs and I won’t let that happen! We are here for you, faithful reader, to keep your spirits up with our weekly date night recaps: Fun in the Frigid. We will encourage, inspire, or annoy you with our antics as we search locally for interesting eateries. We’ll enthrall you with our tales of middle-aged madcapped mania, as we seek to amuse ourselves on frosty weekends.

I’ll give you a bit of a preview of our harum-scarum antics, just to wet your whistle. This past Saturday night was our first ever Fun in the Frigid date. Having a taste for something classic, we headed to Morietti’s, where we dined on margherita pizza and washed it down with a yummy Cabernet. Feeling sleepy after the wine, we arrived back home by 8:30p. By 8:40p, I was dressed in my jammies and watching recorded episodes of CSINY, while Super Hubs dozed on the couch.

I know, I know. Craaa-zzzzy! That, my friends, is how we roll. Stay tuned for more excitement from week to week. We will get through this wintry season together! Until then.........