High/Low

I stole this from a movie I saw years ago. It was The Story of Us, starring Bruce Willis and Michelle Pfeiffer. At the dinner table, the family would take turns sharing the best parts of their day and the worst parts of their day. Things move so fast with jobs and kids in school that this is a good way to stop and celebrate with the kids or offer sympathy as the situation requires. I like to focus on the positive so I debated on leaving the lows out of it. I have come to appreciate this insight into the things that linger with them throughout their day spent away from me. Whether positive or negative, these memories and their reactions to them give me wonderful glimpses into their personalities. I have started a notebook.

Here are some of the highs I have heard about over the last few weeks:
Today we played soccer in PE, and I was the champion.
My tooth got wiggly.
We got to go outside for second recess.
Fishing with Dad.
Getting my hair cut.
In music, I played my recital piece for my class and I even remembered that there are two of that last note.
Going to Mizzou.
Today Mrs. Stull read a book about a teacher having a baby because that is what she is going to do. She said Stephen is hoping for a boy, but I said girl because our baby is so cute. Just look at her!
I got a homerun today.

And some lows:
Today I flushed the stool...and the water came up.
I am a little nervous about pulling my tooth.
After I climbed the tree, Tucker moved the board so I couldn't get down until I hollared for Mamaw.
Nothing.

What Matters Most: He Said, She Said

So the reason I made the decision to make my own birthday cakes for my children revolves mostly around the concept of making memories. I remember my family making many beautiful cakes for me, and I love that. I also love small traditions throughout life that sort of weave themselves into each other to create what makes us who we are. My family has enjoyed some cake making people over the years, and I wanted to be one of those guys. To pass the torch and carry on the legacy, you know? The memory is the important thing. So let me take you back a couple of weeks to tell you about Megan's birthday cake...probably my most memorable cake ever.

To start with, it is impossible to find Barney birthday cake decorations, outside of edible images. Forget in the store, I could not even find them online. Everyone said he was discontinued. I called the grocery stores. One of them gave me the number for this special cake store in Kansas City that "always has everything you are looking for." No, they do not. The babysitter finally came through for me when she discovered a 15-year-old toy a friend had given her son many years ago. Perfect. He was Farmer Barney, holding a pig, which Megan would absolutely love!

I bought a new bottle of Wilton Violet icing coloring. This is the same shade of purple I have used in the past to make the girls' butterfly and flower cakes. Just purple. So after I had baked the two layers of cake and frosted them white, I popped the top on this color and started to add some to my second batch of frosting. And it started turning blue. Bright, bold, cloudless sunny day blue. Not an on-the-way-to-purple blue. But this is my big picture year, you know, don't sweat the small stuff and all of that. Go with the flow. So I added some hot pink that I had on standby...which led to a nasty grayish blue. More like a storm is on the way and it will get ugly. So I thought I would just add more of my "Violet" and bring back the bright blue. Barney is wearing denim overalls, so blue will work after all, right? Go with the flow.

I had to put the entire bottle of "Violet" in that frosting. I mean, there is no way this icing was safe for human consumption after all of the food coloring I had to put in there. I may have gotten a little agitated as I was adding more and more coloring and I was mixing the frosting, because somehow I managed to splatter some of my frosting all over the counter and yes, the white cake as it awaited decoration(note to self: from now on, mix the frosting on the counter and leave the cake on the table). But I am still going with the flow. I am trading my purple plans in for blue, because Megan will not care in the least. I can cover the splatters on the cake by adding many extra random stars on top. It will be fine. And it was. While it stressed me enough to have to talk through it with my mom on speaker phone, overall I was proud of my Big Picture mentality.

Here we are, an hour from party time. I put the cake out in my utility room, on the freezer, and decide now would be the best time to take my shower. Megan is sleeping in her crib. Madison and Jaron are outside helping their dad unload the wood trailer. Madison's friend is playing inside instead of helping them because she has a cold. In the shower it occurs to me that I have not taken a picture of the cake. Amateur mistake. I always take a picture of the cake the second I get it finished, just in case little fingers dip into the frosting before party time. Always. But not this time. So I get out of the shower, dry off, and get dressed. I am blow drying my hair and I decide the second I leave this bathroom, I will take a picture of the cake. Before I start thinking about getting all of the food out and everything. This is when Madison's friend knocks on the door. She says, "Valerie, Jaron put the cat in the house, and he is on top of the freezer licking the cake." Licking. The. Cake.

I run to see for myself. It is true. We do not have cats in the house. The kids bring them in to play with them on occasion, but they have to get permission. As a general rule, we do not have cats in the house. I grab the cat and throw him outside. I yell at my only son. For awhile. I cry, People. Not a solitary tear glistening its way down my cheek...but more like a kid whose dog just got ran over. I cannot fix the cake this time. My extra frosting has been discarded and the bowls washed(note to self: keep leftover frosting right up until go time). My blood is boiling. The big picture is nowhere in sight. I have never even heard of a flow to go with. It is a meltdown. The kind of meltdown that emotional, superficial girls who do not know what is important have. That girl was me.I know I should have gone with the flow once more. I should have focused on what matters most. The big picture.

*Megan has a whole tribe of people who love her and who wanted to celebrate the fact that she was born. And she loved the cake.

*Megan has a mom who really tries hard, sometimes with success and sometimes failing miserably, to be a good one.

*Jaron was crushed at the thought of his mom crying, and quickly forgave her outburst as she forgave his small lapse in judgment.

*I can count on one hand the times I have known my mother to buy a cake. But in my moment of emotional chaos, she offered to drive to the grocery store, buy a cake, and bring it to me, driving some of her least favorite roads in the process. (At the time, I told her no, I was just going to cancel the party instead, but it was her thoughtfulness I am focusing on here.)

*Even a frosting splattered, ill-colored, cat-licked cake is carrying on the tradition. And it is definitely making a memory.
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The following week this came home in Jaron's backpack from his first grade class.

Blacky Ran Away By Jaron

Once upon a time there was a cat named Blacky. He was a good pet. He liked to run. One day I let Blacky in the house before my sistter's party. I heard my mom yell! The kittin had licked the cake. My mom threw Blacky outside. Blacky was mad at mom and me. Blacky was hiding. I was looking all over for Blacky. He was no war. I looked on the porch. He was there. I was happy!

Birthdays and Real Life

Today was Megan's second birthday. I am not having her party until tomorrow, but two years ago today I learned my baby would share her birthday with my Granny--which had to be a wonderful sign. I would love to write about all of the magical memories we made today when it was just the two of us. Those special bonding moments that can only happen between a mother and her daughter. I am picturing things like swinging in the park in the sunshine and kicking a ball around in a lush, green back yard, but those things did not happen today.

To begin with, it poured down rain. It is barely March, so our grass is more of a burned yellow color right now. And the mud still lingers. The most memorable moments of today are not the kind of memories that solidify relationships. I was playing the keyboard, to try the height of the new seat I bought for it, when Megan came flying around the corner pointing her tiny finger at me, demanding, "Stop it, Mommy. Dat's eNOUGH, Mommy! Dat's eNOUGH!" Soon after that, she spilled my much needed and highly anticipated Diet Dr. Pepper all over the kitchen counter. That was before she tried eating a banana, peel and all, from the middle creating a mushy mess of her hands and face, and after she had ripped a packet of hot cocoa mix open, covering herself, her baby doll, and my favorite chair in the living room. Much of this she managed while clomping around in her sister's cowboy boots.

In the evening, she let out a scream that had me planning the fastest route to the emergency room, and when I got to her (she was intact, by the way), I found her cornering her older brother saying, "Dawin, NO NO HAVE IT THE BALL!!" For those of you who do not speak Megan, that means, "Jaron, no you cannot have the ball, you need to give it to me as soon as possible." So while I tried to think loving thoughts about the anniversary of her birth, mostly I was annoyed and hoping this was not a preview into the terrible two experience for our family. After showers and baths and fresh PJs for everyone, I was rocking her at bedtime. I was thinking about how I wished her birthday had gone a little bit differently when she let go of her blankie and reached up and pushed my wet hair away from my face and said, "Mommy pity." Translation: "Mommy is pretty." That was all I needed to decide her birthday was okay in the big scheme of things.

Investing in Valerie

I never thought maintaining a healthy weight would be such a struggle for me in my adulthood. I don't remember if this is an original idea of my very own or if I read it somewhere, but I have thought for years that weight is like grade point average. It can quickly and easily stray from what we would consider to be ideal, and getting it back where it needs to be takes a lot of work and determination. And some sacrificed sleep. Tomorrow we will be kicking off a team weight loss competition at work, Spring Training. I have had several people approach me to do another challenge, but with our current patient load and the computer project we have going on right now, I was not sure I wanted to work it into my schedule. Recently, though, the tide was turned when I decided to step onto the scale and was shocked and dismayed by the reading glaring at me in big, red numbers. I mean, I want to help my coworkers, I do, but the bottom line is sometimes you have to look out for number one. I realized I needed this challenge as a final push to be successful and maintain my motivation. My baby will be two years old this weekend, and the time to focus on getting myself back into the most healthy person I can be has long passed. My primary focus has to get an attitude adjustment now. If you want to know the truth about things, I have been looking out for number one a lot so far in 2011. I think this could be my year. It was not really anything intentional, but looking back over the last few months I cannot deny that I have moved up on my own list of priorities.

It all started after Christmas when I came across my thumb ring from my teenage days. I loved that ring and wore it everywhere. It got too small...not that it actually decreased in size or anything...and I took it off. It has been in my drawer, completely forgotten, for a decade. I think sometimes that I get so wrapped up in the small, daily motherly decisions that I forget about the things that make me who I am. I feel like I try so hard to learn how to be a decent wife and mom that I forget that I was a person first. I was a person with confidence and interests and opinions and I loved rings. I took my thumb ring to the jeweler and had it re-sized, along with the ring Kevin got me when I graduated from college. I have worn them every day since then. I bought an elliptical machine. I have wanted one for years. I am taking a photography class. I went to the eye doctor and got new glasses. Don't worry, I am still in charge of menus and groceries and laundry and piano lessons and signing homework folders every night. I am not neglecting my people. I do love my people. I am just saying, do not overlook the importance of good, solid investments. And this year I am investing in Valerie.

About a Dog

Poochie was born February 6, 1999 to a dog of questionable virtue named Tigger. We never knew for sure who her father was. When she was a very small puppy, she was bitten by another dog and had to get stitches in her neck. She then came to Kevin's parents' house to stay while she healed. Well, this was around the time of my midterms, and just before Kevin and I were married, so any time I spent at their house included my backpack and reading glasses. So this tiny ball of adorable black fur snuggled up on my lap with my textbooks and slept away her ailments as I studied. A few months later, after we were married, when we went back to collect Kevin's things and move to our farm house, we packed Poochie up right along with everything else and took her with us.

She was our first baby, and the first animal I have ever had to live in my home. We taught her to sit, shake, roll over, and say, "Please." It took forever for that last one, because she is not a dog who is overly prone to barking(which I love and appreciate). Kevin taught her to go look in the mirror when asked to "find the pretty puppy." If asked where her shadow was, she would run to put her nose against the wall as she tried to find it. She also gives hugs. By that I mean she puts a paw on each of my shoulders, and curls her head around my neck and gives a real hug, like she means it.

Long story short, Poochie is a brilliant and extraordinary dog. Over the years, when my toddler children pulled on her ears or legs, or hugged her a little too tightly, she merely gave me a dirty look, instead of retaliating. When my babies cried, she would come to me to make sure I had noticed, and she would stay at my feet until I fixed the problem. Now when they cry, she nuzzles their cheek. Mine, too. I am starting to prepare myself, and the kids, for the time when she will leave us. I have never been through this before. She was recently diagnosed with a cancer for which treatment would cause more damage than benefit to her. So I know it is coming. I know life will go on for our family, but while she is still here and relatively healthy I just wanted to say that Poochie is a brilliant and extraordinary dog. Coming from a childhood of hunting dogs and livestock, I never understood the depth of feelings some people had for their pets. I never knew the birthday of any of the animals from my childhood. I totally get it now, though. I get how a dog can be a huge and integral part of your family. Poochie has shared our home for twelve years. That is twelve years of Thanksgivings and Christmases and New Years and Independence Days and birthdays. And over the weekend she had one of those. Happy Birthday, Poochie Peavler...from your family.

As The Snow Flies

I remember my Grandma Harvey, as she was canning vegetables in the peak of summer heat, saying, "This will sure taste good when the snow flies." I have been thinking a lot about summer lately. About how I will be sweating in the garden picking green beans and wishing for a breeze. Because these days, snow has been flying. Snow has been flying unlike anything I have ever seen. I decided that instead of thinking of how the endless snow is not conducive to my going to work and earning a paycheck, I wanted to remember all of the wonderful experiences that came along with the blizzard of 2011.

a warm fire burning
a child in my lap

books to read
phone calls to be sure loved ones are safe as the snow flies

a cup of hot cocoa
a well-stocked pantry

pink, fuzzy socks
an instrument to play as the snow flies

a snow tunnel adventure

a recipe for snow ice cream

games to play

yummy smells from baking as the snow flies.

a neighbor blading the driveway

a Disney movie on pay per view

snuggles beneath warm blankets

a family together, safe and warm, as the snow flies

Some Days

I have always believed that someday I would have it all together. I was going to be the kind of person who kept everything tucked away in its place. I was going to be that super fun mom who basked in the adoration of her children every day. Those children would never go to school without finishing their homework or without their backpacks. I was going to adhere to my calendar/planner with reverence and be dependable and symmetrical and balanced...because I will just tell you that kind of thing makes me smile. I thought I would have all kinds of free time, and I would attend all of the events at school with my children lined up sweetly next to me in the bleachers.

When I was a kid, I thought it would happen upon entering adulthood. After my 18th birthday, I thought I would get it all together after I graduated from college and/or got started on my career. I thought surely after I was married, or after the babies were born...or maybe once we were finished with the diapers and food in their hair.

You know how Alan Jackson sings that sometimes someday never comes? I have finally realized that I am not going to be that girl. The one who is good at everything all the time. Someday may never come, but some days I do have it all together. Some days. But many days, I do not. Many days, if my family members have eaten something, washed themselves, brushed their teeth, and can sleep peacefully, I think that is all I need. Even if I left laundry on the couch or I forgot to send in their book order that day. Because some days I do have it all together. And tomorrow might be one of those days.