All I want for Christmas is...

Yes, I recognise Christmas is over. I was going to make it a Birthday wish, but the modem was out of commission for a few days so I missed that too. So what the heck, its a late request but a request none the last.

All I want for Christmas, my birthday, New Years (there, that works) are some FOLLOWERS. That's right, I'm just gonna come out and ask for it. I know you're out there, secretly reading and (hopefully) enjoying my random thoughts and life events, so it would be most encouraging to see some growth in that list of followers. So whether you are a frequent reader, or a first time reader, it would be the most excellent gift to see you sign up to follow.

Shameless self promotion, I know, but hey, thought it was worth a shot.

Happy New Year All, hope everyone has a fun, SAFE, night.

Christmas Treats: Vinaterta

I had great ambition this year. I thought I was going to somehow find the time to create beautiful baked treats for family and friend, and help  my mom with her Christmas dinner, preparing homemade perogies and other special sides. So far, not much luck. What I have managed to bake, my family has managed to eat, so very little in the way of "giftgiving" was actually acheived. And with the sad realization the perogies would not be handmade this year I thought, Ok, can't do perogies, maybe I'll make my Dad the chocolate chiffon cake he's been (not-so-subtley) hinting for. As we speak a deflated Chocolate Chiffon Cake is mocking me in my oven. Another "Charlie Brown" cake is about to make its way to the Hemminger household.

The one treat I did manage to make that reminds me of Christmas' at my Grandma and Grandpa's house is Vinaterta. My grandmother started making this Icelantic treat for my Uncle many years ago. It is a layered cake, the cake is almost like a shortbread, with a sweet prune filling (I can see that face your making. "Prunes? Yuck" But seriously, this is probably my favorite thing in the entire world, and if I didn't tell you it was prunes, you wouldn't know).

So, here is a very coveted family recipe. Mine isnt nearly as pretty as my grandmother's perfectly layered cake, but it all tastes the same.

Guess I'll see how many of my relatives are actually reading this now :)

Vinaterta

Cake:
1 cup butter
2 eggs
4 cups flour
1-1/2 cups icing sugar
2 Tbsp sweet cream
1 Tbsp baking powder
1 tsp vanilla
1 tsp cardamon seed

Directions: Cream butter and sugar. Beat in eggs, cream and vanilla. In a separate bowl, sift flour, baking powder and cardamon. Add to wet mixture.

Divide dough into 6 equal parts. Press each into a 9" cake tin (greased and floured) and bake at 375F for 12-15 minutes. Remove from tin when warm and let cool on wire rack. (they will harden)

Filling:
1 lbs prunes
2 cups sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp vanilla

Directions: Boil the prunes until softened. Drain and reserve 1/2 cup "prune water". Blend the prunes, water, sugar, vanilla and cinnamon until smooth.


To Assemble:  Once both the cakes and the filling have cooled, assemble the vinaterta by layering cake then filling. My mom always has said Grandma used to let her cake sit a few days to "cure". To serve, it is best to cut the cake when it is frozen/cool as the layers hold better and the slices come out cleaner.

SO YUMMY! Hope you enjoy!

Christmas Treats: Merry Meringues

Thanks to a lovely standmixer I can make things that I would otherwise never have the patience to make. I made these great meringues for the first time this year. They're pretty sweet, but James and the boys loved them just the same. Keelan was thrilled to be able to help "sprinkle" the jello powder on top.

MERRY MERINGUES
Ingredients:

• 4 egg whites
• 1/4 tsp cream of tartar
• 3/4 cup sugar
• jello powder (christmas colors)

 Preheat oven to 225F. Beat egg whites and cream of tartar on high for 5 minutes, or until soft peaks form. Add sugar, one Tbsp at a time, beating on high until stiff peaks form (careful not to overwhip or they will collapse).
Drop tablespoons full of the mixture onto a well greased baking sheet. Sprinkle with the jello powder.
Bake 50 minutes. Turn off oven and let stand for about an hour, or until completely cooled.
Yeild: 24 cookies.

Christmas Treats: Nalysnyky [Crepes]

Tis the week before Christmas, and all through my house, Mommy is frantically baking!!! Cookies and cakes, and other traditional treats all need to be finished...well yesterday. So I thought that this week I would multi-task and share some recipes on my blog while I bake them.

For the last few years we've been trying to establish a breakfast tradition. I've been making a "Puff Pancake" that I really enjoy...but James, not so much. So this year we are going to substitute a recipe I've been making for a few years. Its a Ukrainian pancake, Nalysnykys. Traditionally you would cook up the crepes and fill them with a savory dry cottage cream mixture. You roll them up and then warm them through in the oven. Yum! But the actual mixture is fantastic for crepes. Here's what you do:




Nalysnyky

• 2 eggs
• 1 1/2 cups milk
• 1/4 t salt
• 1 T sugar
• 1 cup  flour
• 1 T melted butter

Beat the eggs, add sugar, salt, butter, milk and dry ingredients. Mix like pancakes (the batter should be VERY thin). Heat a non stick pan to med-med/hi.




Pour about 1/3 cup of batter onto the pan
and then quickly spread the batter ( i just use a spatula) using a circular motion until you have covered the pan with one thin crepe. Let cook until top side is nearly cooked through (45-60 seconds), and then flip.

 Let cook 20-30 seconds until back side is finished (it will not brown).
It takes a few tries to get a feel for the timing, but once you do these could not be easier to make.


 

Fill them with fruit (i love a nice apple sauce) or just eat the with syrup. ENJOY!!!
*note* Please forgive the plate :) Its one of the "extras", I think it was my Grandma Rose's circa 1991

Ode to a Stand Mixer

Martha Stewart I am not. Its not for lack of desire. I would love to be the put together women with an impecably decorated home and homemade EVERYTHING. Baked goodies, handmade Christmas cards, ironed shirts. But lets be honest, my desire for that homemade touch is most often outweighed by my lack of organization and follow through. My "craft" cupboard is overstuffed with well-intentioned projects, including a wonderful mini-album that was intended to be C's first birthday present and is now something he will be lucky to receive before graduation :) .

Baking is something I always liked to do, but was never particularly good at. Past attempts have been fraught with mismeasurements (resulting in a lot of melting cookies due to too much butter or too little flour), burnt bottoms (we actually termed this event the annual "scraping of the cookies" after me and mom spent consecutive Christmas' scraping the bottom of the cookies with butter knives to try and remove the charcoaled bottoms), and a loss of motivation to even try.

As most of you know, my many food allergies make buying baked goods tricky and best, deadly at worst. After several trips to the emergency room I've resigned myself to the fact that unless i make it, I'm not eating it. Enter the KitchenAid stand mixer. Two Christmas' ago, after agreeing on a Christmas gift budget, my husband COMPLETELY blew our budget and gave me a stand mixer. It was a beautiful thing, and just seeing it reignited that deep rooted Martha Stewart complex. No, it won't measure my flour, no it won't keep my cookies from burning, but it just makes everything so easy. I love it! Its mesmorising. Both the boys will pull up a chair and sit quietly for HOURS watching it mix batch after batch of goodie.

I bake WAY more (not so great for the waist line, but sure keeps the kids happy). And truth be told, it makes me feel fancy, I create my goodies all the while day dreaming I have a little cooking show and an audience watching my baking prowess. With the help of a fancy mixer and a kitchen timer, we have not had a scraping of the cookies since 2007, and I'm happy to say there is no lack of baked goods in the Rivett household this year.

"Say Mommy"

Good grief. Six weeks of sick and finally it seems we've reached the end (hopefully not an intermission) to the barrage of flu strains that have been plaguing the family since the end of October. With several trips to the Children's Hospital and family doctors, the boys have both come out of it unscathed. Feels like we just skipped November all together, and I'm completely behind the eight ball for Christmas and birthday planning. All my dreams of homemade cards and jams and jellies are quickly being replaced with email Christmas cards and Walmart shopping sprees.

But its not all bad. In the last six weeks, C's language has exploded. With all the hearing/speech issues that K went through, "normal" language development is completely new for me, and so much fun. It started with "aw-gee" for doggy, and within a few days "peez" (please), "cookie" and "ya" had cropped up too. Then came my favorite, "maw-mee". The word we wait for. All those late night marathons and diaper changes were finally validated with a loving "maw-mee". I was thrilled.

What was most amazing to me though, was how quickly the meaning of that sound changed. From a loving recognition, to a synonym for "I want". From the sweetest intonation, to a crying whine. *Sigh* the worst part, is that in the past when C cried at bedtime or had a little whail after I took something away I didn't feel the same guilt that now accompanies the sad little "Maw-meeeee" that comes with the cry. Its much harder to resist going into his room to (once again) try to sing him lullabies or give him a cuddle. At 18 months he's discovered the ultimate power advantage.

Its all very exciting, new sounds, little babbling conversations he has with us, hand gestures and all. and I'm cherishing that "maw-mee" sound, whining or not.

Adventures with Mr Mom: The Bath Tub Incident

Saturday my neighbour had an open house to showcase her custom jewellery (check out her website for Stone Petal Designs). It was just after six, we'd had an early supper because the kids were wiped and we were set to put them to bed early, so after helping James get the boys into the tub, I ventured next door.

Fifteen minutes later I returned home and was greeted at the door by K, which was odd because he should have still been in the tub. Enthusiastically K says, "Mommy! Mommy! C pooped in the tub!!" Uh-oh. Then James chimes in from upstairs, "never leave again".

Apparently in the 15 minutes I was absent, chaos ensued. First C pooped in the tub, so James, panicked to get them out of the water, just takes them out of the tub, and tries to deal with the situation at hand. As he's draining the tub, a naked Colson wanders into K's room and proceeds to pee on his floor.

Poor Jimmy, isn't motherhood fun?

The Usual Suspects

On Tuesday I baked a lovely chocolate cake, and James and myself, and of course a bit for Keelan and Colson, all enjoyed a few pieces. By this morning there was a quarter of the cake left. Mmmm, its a great cake, rich, moist, chocolately, I was really looking forward to having a piece for dessert at lunch. Lunch was supposed to be leftover paella...supposed to be but apparently after I went to bed early last night, James helped himself to whatever was left of the paella and left the empty tupperware dish upstairs for me to clean up this morning (I love my husband...I love my husband...I love my husband...)

Fastforward to lunch, which I now have to cook, and this is what I come across:

The crime scene: The kitchen counter.

Facts:

Where previously there was quarter of a cake, now there is a sad, picked at, remainder of a cake

The scene has been left a mess, crumbs all over counter

A single, used, plastic fork has been left at the scene

Suspect #1: James (aka the husband)

** Scene has been recreated for dramatic purposes.

The facts:

• Has a known history of finishing
• off goodies without sharing, and tends to leave a trail.
• Had opportunity to sneak cake while Kidlets and myself were upstairs
• Enjoys chocolate cake

Suspect #2: C (aka Baby C)

The facts:

• Also enjoys chocolate cake
• Was upstairs at time of crime
• Cannot reach counter top

Suspect #3: K (aka K-Man)
**Note, suspect was prompted to make his best "mean face" for mug shot

The facts:
Has history of sneaking food without asking
Location unknown at time of crime
Has access to counter top

Did not appear to have any evidence on his person after crime, however did remove his clothing during the period the cake dissappeared

Now, given the paella incident of the morning, I was leaning toward suspect #1. So, begrudgingly I cleaned up the crumbs that had been left on the counter, and started making lunch (chicken donairs...mmmm, yummy enough to offset the frustration of having to cook when I thought it was taken care of).

As I'm making lunch, who should enter the kitchen but "the husband". C's in his high chair, happily plugging away at a freezie, K is playing under the kitchen table, holding a wonderful conversation with himself about Thomas and dinosaurs. James and I chat a bit about how business is going so far, he comments on how good lunch smells, and then he looks at the cake remnants and says, "you know, I've only had like 3 pieces" and looks at me as if I'm the one responsible for eating 3 pieces of cake since this morning (ok, i'm a closet eater, but even that's a bit much for me).

Okay now, let's do some math, a quarter of a chocolate cake (who's only ingredients are eggs, butter, sugar, and chocolate), one husband (formerly Suspect #1) who no longer appears to be guilty, myself, who I know not to be guilty, one baby, who had neither opportunity nor capacity, and one rather three year old, with a really guilty smile.

So to my husband, I apologize for jumping to conclusions, and to myself, darn, that kid really pulled one over on me. If he's already successfully framing James at three, then I am in a lot of trouble.

The Ring

Have I mentioned I'm a dork? Because I am. I get myself into the most ridiculous situations and they are usually as a result of being completely absent minded. I lose things, I'm clumsy, and I'm a dork.

Yesterday my wonderful husband decided I was entitled to a shopping spree. I didn't do anything particularly memorable to deserve it, he just wanted to be nice. So he took me to the new Cross Iron Mills mall to buy a new coat, and some boots, it was very exciting!! So I dressed up, did my hair (ok blow dryed it, but that's about as close to "doing" my hair as I get) and we went out. He lasted two hours, and I had a beautiful new coat, and boots, and scarf, and jeans, *sigh* I was extremely happy....until the car ride home.

As you may or may not know, I am one of the few married women these days who's engagement ring and wedding ring are not a set, and since they don't "go" together, I don't wear them together. In fact, after having K, my engagement ring was sized a size larger than my wedding ring and I wear it on my right ring finger, which is fatter than the left. Well, yesterday, in all the excitement to get out the door and go for a kid-free, all about me, shopping spree, I must have put my rings on the wrong hands, because my wedding band, my beautiful, Tacori style wedding band, my too small for my right hand wedding band, was on my right hand. And it wasn't coming off. We were about 10 minutes away from the house when I discovered my mistake. I was wearing my new coat, and it was warm, so my finger had swollen, but I figured by the time I got home, got the coat off and cooled down, the ring would surely come off.

But no, like a cheesy scene from a made for tv movie, that ring wasn't budging. We tried everything. Hand in icewater, hand above head, butter, olive oil, dish soap, the more we pulled, the fatter that finger got. So, after over an hour, I finally gave up and started the drive of shame to the ER to have that ring, that beautiful eternity band that I had been warned could not be sized because of the detailing on the band, to have that ring that could not be repaired, cut off my finger. My stupid, sausage like finger that was starting to throb from all the pulling.

Upon getting to the "minor emergency" department in the Foothills Hospital, I was greeted by a nurse and a little man with a big bottle of what appeared to be Windex and an old towel. They wanted to give it one last go. My finger at this point was enormous, the ring could barely twist around nevermind move up or down, and I said to the nurse, "I don't think this ring is coming off". "You'd be surprised" she said and so, they got to work. Spray the finger, twist and pull, spray the finger, twist and pull.

and what did I do? I did what I had been doing since the car ride home from the mall. I prayed, I prayed and bargained, and prayed some more, and he sprayed and twisted and pulled, and it actually started to move.

By the time the ring was halfway to my knuckle my hand was aching from the pressure on of him pushing back against the rest of my hand. But he kept going. By the time it was just below my knuckle my finger was bleeding and clumps of skin were gathering around the band as the twisting of the ring rubbed my finger raw.

And when it finally slid over my knuckle and off my finger I gave that man a huge hug and started to cry.

So that is the story of the ring. I left the hospital with a finger so fat that I couldn't even bend it, bleeding and raw, and a smile from ear to ear. I still cannot believe they got if off.

Yes, We're Still Alive in Here!

For any concerned followers out there, yes we're still alive. Both the boys are now sick with the flu. Poor K is going on day ten and still isn't back to 100%. He went from a fever on Tuesday, to a cough on Thursday, both on Friday which prompted a trip to the emergency room at the Children's Hospital. After a four hour wait and 5 minutes with the doctor we received the diagnosis of "it's probably the flu, and the most common one at the moment is H1N1 so it's likely that strain" and sent home for bed rest. Considering the hysteria surrounding the "Pandemic" H1N1, this doctor was rather cavalier, and his quick dismissal of K left both James and me feeling less than relieved. He seemed like he was getting better over the weekend. In fact, by Monday night I was feeling so confident that he was better that we were planning what he would wear for school pictures the next day, until he woke up in the middle of the night and threw up. The stomach flu has continued until last night. So far so good today, but I guess we'll see.

On Monday this week C woke up with a fever and a cough. The quick onset of the cough and the fact that K's been sick, combined with his age prompted a quick trip to the doctor (thankfully they saw us at the clinic instead of making us wait it out at the H1N1 assessment clinic) where we basically got the same diagnosis as K.

So, we're waiting it out. All of us are getting stir crazy and the self imposed quarantine is harder than I expected. But all things considered, we are very grateful that this is as tough as its gotten.

Hopefully everyone will be recouping soon and we can resume life (and blogging) as normal!! I hope everyone out there is fairing well and keeping healthy!! Pandemic or not, this flu is ugly and its awful watching your babies feeling sick.

Take Care!!

Flu Shot Anxiety

On Monday evening, on a typical hot chocolate drive, James and I talked about the H1N1 Flu Shot. It's been a topic of much conversation among my neighbors and friends as we hear reports of six hour waits at flu shot clinics. The general consensus among my peers has been that they were not going to get themselves or their kids the flu shot. The shot seemed rushed, they didn't have time to properly test it in the push to get an immunization to the public and in general people felt like the media has overhyped the whole h1n1 pandemic. I'm not against flu shots, but I've never gotten one in the past and I didn't feel any need to get one now. and that's what James and I concluded from our Monday evening drive.

Until 12am Tuesday morning when K woke up with a fever.

Suddenly my head is full of all the information that the fear-mongering mass media has been sharing. So despite having seen K in feverish condition every cold and flu season, I find myself in a state of panic and paranoia. All the conviction I felt in the car ride about not getting the flu shot flew out the window and I am devastated now that I can't get the shot, can't take him out to sit for the six hours at a clinic.

I called into Health Link where the nurse assessed K over the phone. Questions like, "Are his lips blue?", "Is he confused, does he know where he is?" are not calming my panic. But with no symptoms other than a fever and sore throat she promptly directed my to their website for "home care" instructions (which I'd had already read before calling in). So all night I'm on him like a hawk, and with every cough, sniffle, whimper, even though I'm telling myself it's only a cold, that panic grows.

This morning K's fever is gone, but a runny nose and mild cough have come in its place. And although I'm not feeling as panicked, I'm definitely not the 'laissez faire' parent I have been in flu-seasoned past.

So now I'm not sure what the best route to take is. Do I wait til he's feeling better and take the whole family in for the vaccine? Do we withdraw ourselves from all social situations and just bunker down until the hysteria dies down? or do we just carry on as normal with some extra hand sanitizer?

Alberta adds clinics as H1N1 death toll rises

Health Canada takes word of others H1N1 vaccine safe

SNOWDAY!!

I read a post on a friend's blog (walkonthewildeside.blogspot.com) where she talked about seeing the kids' schoolyard spotted with snowmen and snowforts and she took a moment to be grateful that imagination is still alive in a time of video games and computers. So when we were hit with a mini blizzard on Saturday morning I was determined to take the opportunity to have some free, quality time with the family. Outside it was warm, and the snow was sticky, (perfect snowmen weather!) so we all bundled up and played in the yard.


One of the families down the street already had their snowman under construction, four layers high, they were using a ladder to add the finishing touches. Not to be outdone James started work on the biggest (fattest) snowman I'd ever seen. He literally cleared the snow from out yard, it was all in the snowman!


K loved it outside. With the help of his dump truck he transported loads of snow and helped pack whatever he didn't eat onto the snowman. He also made his own little snow blob right next to the big one, and added buttons for the eyes and a carrot for the nose (which he promptly ate prior to any photo opportunity).


C is getting used to the snow, but its not really his thing. When K was a toddler he used to (and still does come to think of it) just lay face down in the snow. C, on the other hand, has a major meltdown any time his skin comes into actual contact with the white stuff. he gets frustrated that he can't walk easily, and his mittens make picking up the snow rather difficult. For most of our snowman adventure he just sat under our tree with his bucket, and cried any time a piece of snow fell from the branches above. Poor kid.



The finished snowman was great! K had a blast, so did James and I, and C did okay :) Check K out in this photo, he's taking a big bite out of the snowman! (Seriously, if you read my mealtime battles post this is just further proof of his tendency to eat everything in sight UNLESS its on the dinner plate!) The weather warmed up really quickly, by that evening the snowman looked more like it belonged in Calvin and Hobbes Snowmen House of Horror. Poor guy, writhing as he melts.

Oh well, we had a blast, hope you enjoy the pics.

Fineprint: The Meal-Time Battles

As my mom can surely attest to, growing up I was the pickiest eater around. I survived for a year on chicken noodle soup and Vegetable Thins crackers, not because of a lack of wonderful home cooked meals, but because any attempt to feed me something new resulted in an hour at the table filled with tears, tantrums, and likely gagging as I filled my mouth with milk with every swallow. It was awful.

Because of my personal history I have approached cooking for my children with the expectation that majority of my dishes will not meet my children's approval, and I'm okay with that. Ketchup has become my weapon of choice in the dinnertime battle, because most things if drenched in ketchup will make it past the taste test. K is way worse than C. C will eat most of what's presented as long as no vegetable is within sight. And I'm okay with this. Usually I can sneak in some fruit slices or a yogurt onto the plate and I tell myself that this portion of healthy food will offset the not-so-healthy frozen fish sticks or kraft dinner. I signed up for mealtime battles, it was all part of the contract, but I missed the fine print.

See, the thing that gets me, the part that actually does hurt my ego, is that my kids will basically eat anything that they find. For over a year K would sneak a piece of dog food every time my back was turned. I can't make him stop eating snow despite the frequest leaves and dirt and "other" items that he's swallowed in the process. I've actually seen him lick the dog. And C's just as bad. Granted he's only 17 months, but last weekend, visiting friends, he not once but twice found a piece of sidewalk chalk to chomp down on and made a huge tantrum when I took it away.

So it begs the question, is my cooking really so awful that the critics would rather eat crayons than try a spoonful of soup? Is my pizza so terrible that an after dinner dog biscuit is preferable?

I'm sure like everything else it's a phase. Most 10 year olds will clear a plate of "normal" food...right? and I guess I always have a fall-back: 10 years of a rotating meal plan of Kraft Dinner and Macaroni & Cheese. It might not be my ideal menu, but it sure beats kibbles and bits :)

You'll Never Guess What My Kids Are Up To

It's not even 10am and I'm sitting down to enjoy a nice chai tea latte. It's warm and I haven't even had to reheat it the typical three times. How is this possible? Why have I had this rare opportunity to actually take a breath a enjoy a quiet, solitary moment. My children are (dramatic pause) playing with each other. Actually playing. They are in K's room, playing with trains. Sharing. and its been going on for nearly an hour.

It started when C started crying to announce he was wake and ready to start his day. Too lazy to drag myself out of bed, I asked K to go say hi to his brother. K begrudgingly marched into C's room and announced in his growly "dinosaur" voice, "These are my trains and you can't have them" (translation: "Good morning"). But then something shifted. The dinosaur voice gave way to his regular, pleasant K voice, and I smiled as K explained to his brother how he had found his Thomas trains this morning and then went into his room.

Then K brought two of his trains for C to play with, and then invited him into his room to play. And they did. They played. No crying. No fighting. All I can hear is giggling and K telling his brother all the ins and outs of the Sodor trains and C babbling back. This is the moment that I had in my mind when I found out I was having two boys. This is the moment that gives me hope that they might actually grow up and like each other, that maybe the all the pinching and hitting and kicking and pushing will evolve into something that looks more like friendship.

Okay okay, overkill maybe. And now there's C crying, and K shouting "that's not funny". My perfect moment is over. My tea is still only half drunk. But it happened, and maybe it'll happen again. For today, that's enough for me.

Mommy on a Mission...well Almost

Last night after supper, with two hours left til bedtime, we decided to pack up the kidlets and go rent a movie. As often happens, K passed out in his carseat within minutes of hitting the road, so rather than waking him and hauling the cranky crew through the store, I decided to go in myself and quickly scour the shelves for the night's entertainment. The store was quiet, only a few customers, a Dad with a young daughter, and few single renters like myself.

As I got to the new release wall I overheard two employees talking loudly while they restocked the shelves. Apparently some passive aggressive customer had grabbed fistfulls of the older movies and thrown them in on the new release shelf. The employee who discovered the pile of rogue movies was angry to say the least. He went off on a (loud) rant about this amount of work it would be to restock the old movies, and ended his tangent by saying "&%$#, I hate my life".

Now, my first real job was working at a video store, actually, the same family video store I was in last night. I once opened the store to discover that some clever individual had urinated in the return slot the night before so that an entire bin of soaked movies had to be sorted through and repackaged. Bearing this in mind, a dozen old movies thrown in with the new releases really didn't rank that high on the annoying scale, and certainly didn't qualify for an f-bomb.

Thankfully K wasn't with me in the store. If he had been then it would have been a different situation. But it did make me stop and think. See, I remember working my first customer service focused jobs, and really liking it. I remember feeling proud when I did my job well, smiling and greeting, going above and beyond. Sure, I wasn't perfect, I was a boppy 16 year old who probably spent just as much time gossiping as working. But I can promise you one thing, I was there to do my job well, and I never had a complaint, not even one. So it seems to follow that one of two situations had occured:

Situation 1: Common sense and Common courtesy are really not that common at all. Time and time again I've gone shopping with my two kidlets in tow, only to have to listen to stock clerks discussing the latest party, (with plenty of colorful expletives), or gotten attitude when asking a question, or gone through an entire transaction without so much as a hello from the clerk.

Situation 2: I have turned into a crotchety lady well before it was due. I'm sure everyone has encountered that customer who is just mad. And it wouldn't matter what you did or said, they'd find a reason to be mad.

Last night at the video store I bit my tongue. Maybe I should have said something to that clerk. I thought of speaking to a manager (although I later found out he was the supervisor on shift), I thought of calling the office and making a stink, but I didn't. I didn't want to make waves, my child wasn't there, no harm no foul...right? But maybe I should have. Maybe I should have been a moral warrior, a Mommy with a mission. What would you have done?

What Ever Happened to Soap Operas and Bon Bons

So I'm finally giving in and starting a blog. Its kind of the 'in thing' to do, or at least that what I've heard. I've thought long and hard about what I would write, what is so interesting in my life that someone else would care to hear it. And the answer to that question truthfully, is nothing.

There's nothing particularly unique about my day-to-day life. I'm a work at home mom, with two young boys. I make the beds, fix breakfast, clean and clothe my toddler and preschooler, I read books, and do crafts, clean the house and buy the groceries, and if I find the time, maybe squeeze in a shower and watch some Oprah. But sometimes, in those rare, quiet moments, I get time to really think, and so often the thought that creeps up on me is, "How did I get here?"

Look at my Mom, she made it look easy. We ate at home almost every night, and to real, homemade dinners. Fast food was a treat, not a routine. Our house was clean, so were us kids, and she never appeared frazzled. So when I signed up for the position of Mommy, it was a no brainer. I always knew I wanted to stay home with my kids. From a very young age I had the desire to be a stay-at-home mom. My mother stayed home to raise my brother and me, her mom stayed home and raised her. It was the natural path, not even a choice really. I'd done well in school and at my jobs. Whatever I tried I excelled at. I loved kids and cooking, I knew how to do laundry and clean a house, so really, how much work would it be? Right?

But oh when that illusion is shattered. When the dogs won't stop whining and the kids won't stop barking, the "homemade dinner" of Kraft dinner is burning on the stove as my Blackberry vibrates to let me know another email has arrived...that's when it hits me.

What if this isn't a 'natural path' at all?

What if its not easy?

What ever happened to soap operas and bon bons?

To be fair, I love my kids. I am so incredibly grateful that I CAN be home with them. But there are days. There are days when I just have to laugh at where I am. University educated, strong, confident woman, desperately negotiating with my three year old to keep his shirt on while he poops. And I have to think, I cannot be the only mommy out there who feels like this, who wonders, "How did I get here?"

So that's what my blog will be. My blog will be a place that I can finally admit that my house isn't actually organized, and that I didn't brush my hair this morning, and that my son's socks don't match. And hopefully, somehow through the anonymity of the internet, someone out there will tell me that they feel the same way.