Cookie Baking

Decorating cookies is more fun with friends, and I'll tell you why. First of all, you can get away with making one double batch of cookies and end up with multiple kinds of cookies since all participants contribute cookies. Second of all, it's just more fun because there is lots of laughing and chatting, both for kids and adults.

And, in my case, I get help from someone much more talented than I am. Here Erin is showing the girls how to carefully pipe the frosting on, as opposed to how I usually just slap it on.

See? Far prettier than anything I am able to do.

Forgotten Caroline didn't really get to decorate. Instead she walked around whining. To get her to be quiet the other kids kept sneaking her cookies. I think Caroline ate 6,720,000 sugar cookies this afternoon.

And speaking of sneaking sugar . . .

I am pretty sure Gus ate about eight pounds of icing. 

I think he would rather have had nine pounds.

Somehow, the cookies got frosted, and I think the kids did a really good job. Don't you?

Madeleine the Mom

Madeleine loves younger kids; younger kids in our social networks flock to her like a moth to a flame, and Madeleine reciprocates the adoration.

Yesterday was Joe's and my goddaughter, Delaney's, third birthday and it was no surprise to me when Madeleine noticed the birthday girl's shyness with the large crowd assembled and was able to draw her out. It didn't take long before Madeleine was giving piggy back rides.



And later, when it was time for cake and Delaney didn't want to sit by herself with everyone snapping pictures and singing "Happy Birthday," Madeleine jumped in and sat with Delaney, making both the birthday girl and Madeleine very happy.



It always warms my heart when I see Madeleine mothering and nurturing younger kids, but it's especially neat to see her with Delaney. Joe and Delaney's dad met when they were four or five years old and now, thirty some years later, their oldest daughters are playing together and enjoying each other's company. I think that's pretty neat.

Father's Day 2010

We're one of those families that never makes a big deal about Mother's Day or Father's Day and, as a result, we don't have anything we traditionally do on those days.

Yesterday Chris and Erin invited us to spend Father's Day with them and their four kids taking advantage of the Pioneer Village's open house (read: free) Sunday afternoon about a half an hour north of here.

What a wonderful place! I mentioned we recently visited Old World Wisconsin and Pioneer Village is definitely very similar, though on a much smaller scale. But because it's smaller there are also less people so the kids were able get their hands dirty and do a lot of interesting things, like vote,



grind coffee,



experience a one room school house,



wash clothes,



and make rope.



The kids even took a turn at attempting some old-fashioned games.







And then Chris and Joe decided the kids shouldn't have all the fun, so they warmed up their hoop rolling skills and eventually raced.

Joe took off gang busters, but Chris eventually prevailed.



And, though rarely photographed, the babies were there too. Caroline and Gus spent their time together swapping boogers and illnesses on the grass while everyone else played.



I know yesterday was supposed to be all about fathers, but our whole family had a really fun time.

You Must Allow Me to Tell You

You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.

Those words, spoken by Mr. Darcy to Elizabeth Bennet in Jane Austen's most well-known work, Pride and Prejudice, have become almost iconic; every Austen fan out there who reads or hears those words knows, instantly, who spoke them and when.

This morning my friend Terri gave me the mug you see above. It was ostensibly a birthday gift-- an early one-- but I suspect that it was a gift that my friend saw in her Etsy surfing and decided that it was something I, a lover of Austen, needed to own. She handed it to me outside Barnes and Noble, in the rain, where she and I, and some of our children, huddled under a lone umbrella.

We were there to pick up a copy of Artful Blogging, a magazine which a few months ago I had never heard of, and was introduced to because Terri's blog is featured in the current issue.

We stood there in the rain, exchanging "We need to get together soon!"s, quick hugs and this lovely mug that I will use and think not of Jane Austen or Elizabeth Bennet, but of my crazy, dread-headed friend, who has been my friend since we were seventeen years old and who still knows me well enough to see a mug that, had I seen it first, I would have bought. In a lot of ways we've grown up together and, ultimately, we've grown into very different people, but whatever that bind is that makes people friends, Terri and I have it. I have the magazine sitting beside me, a cup of hot coffee in my new mug and I am about to turn to page sixty-eight in the summer edition of Artful Blogging and read words that are unknown to me but that I already love.

Thanks again, T.

How We Spent Our Wednesday

After my self-indulgent, manic and pathetically self-serving day Monday, today was a welcome change of pace. Erin and her darling kids visited us and everyone had a such a nice time giggling, playing at the park and setting up scavenger hunts. Erin and I enjoyed letting the kids entertain each other and spending some much needed time chatting.

Our late morning trip to the park was capped off by the kids climbing the playhouse and taking a slide off the roof. First off, Hank,



then Elisabeth,



next was Lily,



and her sister Claire,



and then, finally, Madeleine.



What a wonderful way to break up our everyday routine. Thanks for making the drive, Erin!

My Madeleine

This girl, this nine-year-old girl blows me away. This girl, grown-up in so many ways (Mom! Why can't I wear make-up!) yet still so innocent and young (she loves that doll she's holding).

Of all my kids, she reminds me of me the most. Her interests (horses, reading), her personality (stubborn, always in a rush to get to the next thing, self-confident, independent) and her talents (she loves to write as much as I do, though my hope is she will far, far surpass me in talent and ability).

In other ways, though, she reminds me of me the least. Her interests (fashion), her talents (she's fairly artistic).

These combinations scare me as much as they delight me. How many times in my life did I stick to some entrenched opinion only to learn, the hard way-- always the hard way!-- that I was wrong? What choices will she make as her life progresses that would be made easier if she didn't have my stubborn personality? Will her self-confidence remain and will she be confident enough to make decisions for herself even when others are encouraging her otherwise?

It's fun to speculate. She and her best friend already have it all figured out; she says she wants to be a large animal veterinarian. Her friend will also be a veterinarian, only she will be a small animal vet. They plan on living on one big farm with two, separate houses. Their husbands are going to stay home with their kids.

I smile and encourage Madeleine, of course. But inwardly I chuckle at the idea of my little girl, my nine-year-old Madeleine, delivering calves and foals when, right now, she runs and shrieks at the sight of a worm.

I do not know what she will do or what she will become. But I do know that this girl, this sweet little girl that I held for the first time only a few short moments ago in a hospital room in Janesville, Wisconsin, is halfway through her childhood. I want her to remain small, to remain mine, but eventually I will have to share her with the world. Halfway through. Soon speculation will become reality. I hope I am ready.

Beautiful Snow

I whine a lot about Wisconsin winters. I realize it can be annoying and pretty stupid since Joe could do his job anywhere, including warmer climates so living in this cold, snowy state is not a requirement for us, it's a choice.

I sometimes lament days being too cold or the winter being too long but, honestly, on a day like today, when the temperature hovers in the high twenties (warm, for winter!), the snow lightly falls all day long, and the kids play with other home-schooling kids who live down the street and together enjoy the magic of the freshly fallen snow, I am reminded that, most of the time, I really like winter.

Good Tired

If I were to compose a blog post right now the theme would most definitely be "I am tired."

In a good way, though. In a way that only a fun, truly relaxing time with my family and good friends can be. Less than twenty-four hours ago we packed up our van, pointed the van north for about an hour and unloaded in a spacious four-bedroom condo at a waterpark resort that we shared with some good friends of ours. Everyone gets along well, kids, adults, and everyone feels comfortable with each other. It made for a fun and relaxing time of trips down the water slides, corralling kids in baby pools and talking and chatting with one another.

I took nary a picture, save a few of a few of the kids in a post-swimming bath, but I'm not going to post those. I feel exhausted right now from staying up too late talking and laughing, but I also feel mentally recharged and really ready to get back into the swing of laundry, cleaning the house and schooling the children.

A mini-vacation was just what the doctor ordered, I think-- though after I get a good night's sleep!

The obligatory Thanksgiving post. Sort of.

Today I am thinking that I am tired.

That I have consumed entirely too many calories.

That my house is a complete wreck.

That our calendar for the next month is so full that it's making me panicky.

That I miss my friend Erin's presence on the internet and that I hope she gets her laptop fixed soon.

That I have to go grocery shopping.

That I have the cutest baby in the world smiling up at me right now and that I am happy.

That I am going to leave my to-do list behind today and have one last calorie-fest in Silver Lake.

That it is a beautiful, sunny day.

That I'm over my bitterness about last winter and I am ready for snow.

That Joe was really sweet to text me a gazillion updates from Hank's hockey game this morning.

That I forgot to wish everyone a Happy Thanksgiving.

So, here it is. Happy Thanksgiving, two days late!

Countdown

A busy next few days loom. Lots of preparations to make as different factions of our family move in different directions for various chunks of time. But, for today, I contemplate pharmacy runs for last minute odds and ends and a sleepover Madeleine has planned tonight with B_____. Today errands and laundry, tomorrow packing and, if there is time, maybe a trip down to Milwaukee's lakefront for the air and water show.

Joe misses out on all of this. Taking a few days off of work means lots of busy days prior. I don't expect to see much, if any, of him in the next few days. I can't decide if it's better to be cooped up in an office for sixteen hours or to be here with three kids doing laundry and running errands. Some days the office wins out, but on busy days like these have been for Joe I feel blessed to be sitting in my living room near an open window with actual real, fresh air filling my lungs and know that no matter what's on my plate today in just a few short days I will escape it all and be somewhere where no laundry or errands await (or kids either, for that matter!).

This Weekend

We stayed up late last night with some new friends and, to be perfectly honest, despite the late hour, I wish they could have stayed longer because we all just had so much fun. Well, at least Joe, the kids and I did though I suppose I shouldn't speak for our guests. Being tired-- and having tired kids-- is a small price to pay for a relaxing and enjoyable evening with friends, and one I would pay again.

But, as it is wont to do, the sun rose again on a new day this morning and with it a schedule packed with a first baseball game, a last soccer game (until next fall, anyway) and a soccer party tonight. Hank has declared after only one game that he loves baseball. I'm fairly certain that if you put Hank on any sort of sport's team and give him a uniform and a competitive objective that he'll love the sport, but he thinks it's novel every time he loves a new sport. Here are some pictures of the little slugger.

Waiting on second base to be hit home (in the dark green jersey).



Running to home plate.



After making it around the bases Hank saw my camera and just stood there and smiled. When I didn't take the picture quickly enough Hank just said, "Mooo-om!" and stood there smiling once again. I took the hint.



Racing his own team's shortstop to scoop up a ground ball.



The soccer game was fun too, especially since a good friend I haven't seen in awhile was there watching her daughter play Hank's team. It was fun to cheer for the Kangaroos one last time this season and to notice how far all the kids-- virtually absent of soccer knowledge at the beginning of the season-- have come since last fall.

And now we're back home. The kids are resting, I have pies cooling for tonight's party at one of Hank's soccer teammate's house. Hank hasn't taken his soccer uniform off since we got home over two hours ago and my guess is he's going to be wearing it a lot this summer.

Storm Tracking

A few hours ago the local TV stations meteorology departments were in full on panic mode talking about the thunderstorms that were moving into the area. I don't know if you know this about me or not, but I'm obsessed with the weather (as a side note, if anyone is interested, my favorite site to check the local weather is WISN 12; their interactive radar is the coolest), so I had the radar up on my computer and had the local news on. I don't do this because I'm scared, I do this because besides my obvious issues of simply being obsessed with the weather and storm tracking, I really love thunderstorms. I was excited and wanted to know when to go to the window to watch the storm moving in.

My kids were excited too. As Madeleine pointed out, "Maybe we can have a cozy book night!" And then it started to rain. We got a crack or two of thunder and then... nothing. The clouds moved out over the lake and the sun came out.

Not long after Hank's friend A______, who lives three houses down, stopped over to see if Hank could play. As I heard them chatting at the door I heard A_____ say, "Did you guys have to go in your basement? We did because of all the bad storms." Hank's response? "No, I guess the storm must have only gone by your house. Or maybe our house is stronger."

Best Friends

Madeleine has been talking a lot lately about friends. Best friends. Apparently it's a problem that other girls might want to be her best friend when she already has a best friend. It's also objectionable that other girls want to play with her best friend. It seems eight-year-old girls are very territorial. Or, at least mine is.

This best friend talk has expanded beyond what's good for Madeleine and she seems fixated on the idea that everyone should have not just friends, but a best friend. That Joe and I say we are each other's best friends seems to have pacified her on her quest to ensure that everyone has their very own best friend, at least for now, but no one else is safe. Even little Elisabeth-- three-year old Elisabeth!-- who is in the beginning stages of forming new friendships with neighborhood children is in need of a best friend.

Today Madeleine asked Hank who his best friend was. Hank answered promptly, "You are, Madeleine." My heart melted. For a second. Madeleine told Hank she couldn't be his best friend, she already had a best friend. So Hank responded, in a tone that should have let her know that his interest level in the conversation was waning, not that it had been terribly engaged prior, by saying, "Well, I have lots of best friends. And you're one of them."

Madeleine went on to try and explain the concept of having just one, singular and only very best friend.  But, honestly, I like Hank's outlook better.

Hobby Lobby: Hank's Turn

Long-time readers of my blog may remember about our school's Lobby Hobby. New readers may want a quick primer.

Last week was Hank's turn to showcase a prized possession. He chose his toy cars and their accompaniments like a Hot wheels car village and tractor trailer car carriers. It was quite the display.


He took his junior kindergarten companions to the display last Thursday and gamely told me that they boys liked his display but the girls were generally more interested in the My Little Pony display directly above his. He also relayed that his friend Curly who, being a good friend, did look at Hank's display before being lured away by all the pink and glitter directly above, challenged his decision to include a coloring book, for Pete's sake, in s display about cars. Hank laughed while telling the tale and said, "Duh-- because it's NASCAR." Apparently Curly lives a NASCAR-free life. I sort of thought Hank did too, but I guess that little punk knows more than I give him credit for.

Morning Conversation

The following conversation took place this morning.

Me: Guess what Hank! Your class is going on a field trip on your birthday. And guess what else-- I get to be a chaperone!

Hank (with a huge grin plastered on his face): Really Mom? A field trip? And you get to come with?! Yay! (He stops to hug me.) I've never been on a school bus before! Do you think it will be a big one?!

Me: Oh, yes, I'm sure it will. Will you sit by me on the bus, Hank?

Hank: (long pause): Weeeell... (concerned look on face) I might want to sit by Curly*.

Hmph.

*Yeah, so obviously Hank doesn't have a friend named Curly, for pity's sake. It's an alias. A very clever, imaginative alias.

Welcome, Delaney!

Some dear friends of ours recently had their first baby, a sweet little girl who they named Delaney. Isn't she cute?


After Delaney was born Superdad and I gave her tired, new parents about, oh, say, 2.7 seconds by themselves after arriving home before descending to meet our new Goddaughter. She has the most smooth, soft wrinkly little baby skin, sweet little baby grunts and that perfect baby smell that keeps women around the globe reproducing.

Our kids were delighted with her too. Madeleine spent eons staring at Delaney, pleading with her soulful eyes for Delaney to ask her mom if Madeleine could hold her just once. Since Delaney can't talk yet, Superdad had to intervene for shy Madeleine.


So, yeah, the kids were really delighted with Delaney. Hank just couldn't contain his excitement...


...for Delaney's dog, Lucky.

I'm not quite sure Hank ever even gazed at Delaney or tried to listen to one baby coo (who could hear over the barking?), but he did entertain Lucky for a time. How long? Oh, just the entire time we were there. Think the boy maybe wants a dog?

Sadly for my children, at one point Delaney needed to be whisked upstairs for a diaper change. However would they entertain themselves? Don't worry, the clever little terrors soon figured out a great game: pretending Elisabeth was a newborn and giving a test run to all of Delaney's new stuff.


Elisabeth thought it was a great game. Luckily for her, so did Delaney's super-relaxed parents.

Congratulations, Mike and Tarra; Delaney is super cute and I can't wait to see her again!

Good Friends

I'm lucky. I have some really great friends. But, like all friends, they all seem to be divided into groups: neighborhood friends, school friends, church friends. And, like most groups of friends, it's most common to see the friends most often who cross our paths in our daily lives so, for me, that's usually my neighborhood friends, school friends and church friends. They're the ones I run into at school, at the grocery store or in my front yard.

But another group of friends that I don't see quite as often is another group I hold very dear: my college friends. These are the friends who stood up in my wedding, and whose weddings I stood up in. The ones who knew me when I met Superdad (and took bets how long it would be before we'd break up, I'm sure!).

I was lucky enough to have breakfast with a few of them this past Saturday.


Aren't they cute? On the left is Kristine. I met Kristine on my very first day of college, at orientation. There was a third girl there, when we met, though I can't remember her name. We ended up assigned to the same dormitory and were fast friends.

Next to Kristine is Karen. I met Karen during my freshman year also, she was roommates with another good friend who was unable to be there on Saturday, but she and I really didn't get to know each other until our junior year when a large group of us rented a house together.

To the left of of Karen is me, obviously, and next to me is Carmela. Carmela and I also met freshman year and we did not like each other. At all. In fact, I remember being dismayed that all my friends liked her so well, and I know she felt that way about me also. After a year or so we got over it though and realized we dug each other. Now I think she's terrific and I'm not quite sure why it was we spent an entire year irritated with each other.

Poor Terri (oops T, your super-secret identity is busted!), my college roommate, couldn't be there, but somehow I don't think she minded too much since she's on vacation in Arizona right now and she looks like she's having a lovely time.

And Rachel, the sixth member of our group, was also traveling, but since she doesn't have a blog I can't direct you to where exactly she was, though she should have one because she travels a lot and goes to some really interesting places. But I'm sure they both missed us immensely and were just so bummed not to be able to leave their tropical locales and race right on back to Wisconsin, don't you think?

Hot Day

Yesterday was hot. With our broken central air and temperatures soaring into the nineties, I think I almost melted. All I wanted to do was go swimming and cool off. In what might be a first, however, the kids did not. They were throughly engaged with some of the neighborhood posse and preferred sprinklers and slip-n-slides to the pool.

First up, the slip-n-slide.


Well, except for Elisabeth who seemingly hates getting wet.

After a solid thirty minutes of playing, what do all young children seem to want? A snack, of course.

The grapes and pretzels revitalized the gang and even made the more keen observers of the group notice that the caterpillars they'd caught a while ago had all turned into chrysalises. That merited a neighborhood update, so throughly cool in their wet bathing suits, they're off, once again, oblivious to the heat.

Hank's Future Bride

For those of us who know Hank well, it's always been a bit surprising that his best friend is a little girl. Hank likes to wrestle and dig for worms and pretend his plastic dinosaurs are fighting one another. His best friend, L____, likes to play with dolls and put on dress up clothes. Still though, they seem to prefer one another as playmates.

In fact, Hank once told me, "I'm going to marry L____ when I grow up."

"You are? How do you know she'll want to marry you?"

Hank convulsed into fits of giggles, "Mom, of course she'll want to marry me; I'm her best friend."

Hank loves L____; just ask him. If he knew the word fiancée I'm quite sure he'd use it to describe L____.

Yesterday Hank was called upon to defend L____'s honor, and rose to the challenge. Hank's friend A______ was also at the school playground following the drop-off of older siblings at school. Coffee in hand, I was busy chatting with other moms content to have a few minutes of peace as Elisabeth played with her toes in her stroller and Hank ran around with his friends.

All of a sudden though, I heard yelling. It was A______ and L____. Hank was across the playground watching A______ and L____ yell at each other when, all of a sudden I heard A____ yell, "Hank's not your friend, L____!" Well, that wasn't to be tolerated. Hank saw the crestfallen look on L____'s face and the burgeoning tears and he charged across the playground as fast as his little legs could take him and tackled A____ in, what looked like to me, a protective rage.

I asked him later what he'd been thinking and how we don't charge out of nowhere and tackle our friends and Hank said, "But Mom, L____ was going to cry. A____ told her I wasn't her friend and I am."

Yes folks, that's my Hank, the defender of his girlfriend's honor and feelings at the ripe old age of four. I wonder what he'll be like when he's fourteen.

Nate the Great

Do you remember the Nate the Great detective stories? I do. I remember reading them in grade school and enjoying the mystery and the climax, when the mystery would finally be solved.

Earlier in the week I was helping out in Madeleine's classroom and the kids were taking turns reading to me. I was excited to see that one of the books assigned was a Nate the Great mystery. After reading me one section of the book I commented to C______, one of Madeleine's classmates, "You know, C______, I used to read these when I was in school."

C______ looked at me incredulously. "Really? That must be why the pictures are all black and white," he responded.

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"Yep, " I said. "Must be."