Friday!

When my alarm went off this morning, I thought it was Saturday and rolled over. Then I remembered my alarm doesn't go off on Saturday mornings and, despite the overwhelming urge to ignore it, I hit the snooze button.

I must have hit it three times, but I only remember hitting it twice.

Eventually, I realized that denial wasn't going to change the fact the Junior would not be getting up either, unless I did something about it.

Getting my kid up for school is one of the less pleasant tasks in my day. Mostly because it means I have to get up and I don't want to. So I go into his room and cuddle with him for a few minutes. Then I tickle him just to make sure he's awake.

I love those quiet moments we have together. We talk about the dreams we had or, more likely, his inventions - picking up where we left off when he was falling asleep. He's still quiet with sleep in his head so there's a purity about our conversation.

Oh geez, somebody shoot me with this scmaltzy crap already.

Sorry. Unless you've got kids in your life, that you get to hang with when they're in that quiet place, there's no way to explain those little moments without getting all sentimental. They're so fleeting. Even a coffee buzz can't marginalize them.

There's a exam word. I never use that word: marginalize. Not sure where it came from. I must have read it somewhere else.

Rainy weekend ahead. Good time to go to a movie. This weekend it might be "Monsters vs Aliens." Afterward there will be the motorcycle race video game followed by a trip to Denny's.

We do things big out here in the sticks.

You Can Take the Girl Out of the City...

But you can't take the black out of her wardrobe.

My wardrobe is black. This is a trend which started in the 80's, when I lived in the city, and it snowballed. Virtually everything now in my closet is black. Except one plum colored T-shirt and one dark brown blouse. Y'know. In case I ever have to go into an office. To work.

I've been working from home for so long that my black wardrobe has segued from black skirts, tops, and hose to black sweats, socks and crappier tops.

It's a very comfy wardrobe but it doesn't really scream "I'm a fashionista". It's more along the lines of "I work at home and haven't showered yet."

Sometimes when I have to go out and mingle in public, I put on my blue jeans. Around here, far from the city and the subways, the blue jeans help me fit in. With my black top, socks and shoes. It's great because I never have to worry about anything matching. I only have to worry about the crap factor of my top and where it falls in the "how much I care" category that day: as in "will I have to take off my coat?"

Sometimes, living 30 miles from the closest mall can have its drawbacks.

Being low maintenance doesn't help either.

And sometimes, don't tell anybody, but I really do care.

Two Wheelin'

Last Spring, we got a new bicycle for our bean-sprout of a kid. He was way too gangly for the hand-me-down "dirt" bike with the training wheels from my nephew (thanks bro for the great bike!). The new bike is a bright blue with black accents (his two favorite colors) and all-terrain-tred tires. With it is a really cool silver helmet with visor.

The visor is key.

Last summer he attempted to ride it exactly once. And then returned to the too-small bike with training wheels.

Saturday, we went for a walk at a nearby nature center. The Sugar House was open, there was fire to play with, there was a pond to poke at with sticks and throw rocks into, birds to chase and trails to hike.

On our way home, we passed our neighbor and her two boys. The oldest is about a year and a half younger than ours. And he was zipping around on his two-wheeler like an old pro. His mom said the training wheels had come off two or three weeks ago and now she couldn't keep him off the bike.

Junior was inspired to pull his beautiful new two-wheeler out and get up to speed. A playdate with the neighbor yesterday gave him incentive to keep trying.

By the end of the day yesterday, he was doing great. He needs a little help getting going, but balance isn't a problem. Except on turns. And sometimes on the straight. And he as an uncanny knack of plowing into the only tree within a hundred feet. Fortunately, the kid knows how to fall, and also how to dump the bike. One of these days he'll figure out that he can use the brakes and then there will be no stopping him. And we'll be the ones riding all over at the nature center. Terrorizing small animals and clueless people in cars.

I can hardly wait.

Thinking Green

The offspring of my loins (yes, good morning!) usually needs to talk about his ideas and inventions before he falls asleep.

Last night in particular, he was talking about one idea he had about a train and telling me it would be green.

"Like the Flying Scotsman?" It seemed an innocent enough question. "Or a darker green?"

"No, Mom, like good for the environment."

We had a good laugh at my expense. I don't remember the rest of the conversation except that, while he was expounding on his idea, I regularly interjected a "go to sleep" and tried to catch a few z's myself. I am the model of good motherhood.

Fast forward to breakfast.

"Mom, when the weather gets nicer, I'm going to ride my Gator a lot more."

"Good for you." I said.

"I'm going to go around and collect trash."

"Where?"

"In our yard."

"Oh, okay. That's good. Because you can't take your Gator on the road."

He has a toy John Deere Gator. It's meant for the preschool set to tool around in. My 2nd grader is long and gangly. When he drives the thing now, his knees are up by his chin and his elbows are behind him in order to accomdate the short distance to the steering wheel.

He doesn't seem to notice.

Our yard is the recipient of stray trash. Empty coffee cups, beer cans, plastic bags, cigarette cartons. We have justified this wayward trash by saying it's fallen out of the garbage trucks on pickup day. We are sticking to that even if it isn't true. I just can't understand how someone can't hang onto an empty beverage container until they find a trash can for it.

I could go off on this, but I won't. Suffice to say that there is a little boy in this town who wants to make it a better place to live.

Viva Community Spirit!

Boiled Dinner

I'm a pretty good cook and I love to cook for people. And I can create a meal out of bits and pieces of things that might not look like much to a less enthusiastic cook.

The one thing I can't do to save my life? I can't roast a piece of meat. I have tried and failed more times than I can count. I follow directions on the correct oven temp, and how many hours per pound. It just never works. The stupid little thermometer never pops up. I underestimate how long it will take and hours later we finally eat.

That's not to say I might not successfully roast something if, say, a small, troll-like man named Rumplestilskin was threatening to take my first born (and only) child.

But give me a piece of meat I can cook in a pot on the stovetop, and I will achieve wondrous things.

Sauerbraten. Can't order it out anymore because nobody makes it better than me. Sorry. I'm not bragging. It's just a fact.

And I made a really good Corned Beef with all the fixins on St. Patrick's Day. You shoulda been here. It was really good.

Riding the Bus

A couple of years ago the biggest thing about going to school was riding the bus. It was terribly exciting and the bus driver knew the names of all of the kids.

Fast forward two years. The bus is noisy. Kids are mean. One of the only friends you have on the bus is a kindergardner and you can't sit with him because the front seats are reserved only for kindergardners. The older kids sit further back - the higher the grade, the further back in the bus. It doesn't matter, that there are only two stops after yours, you can't sit in the front three rows of the bus.

So, if your other friend is on vacation to Disney World, what do you do? You sit with the kid whom you thought was your friend, but who tells you to talk to the hand? The same kid who tells you to sit by the window and as soon as you move over he switches seats? It's a brutal world out there for a happy kid with odd quirks who just wants to be friends with everybody.

So what do we do? We bleed through our hearts and drive our precious cargo to school.

And listen to him singing all the way.

And watch his backpack bounce as he dances toward the front door.

A Boy and His Dogs

We saw "Hotel For Dogs" this weekend. My eight year old, who is often and immediately inspired by what he sees, has now found an additional calling to his future self. He will operate a no-kill shelter for unwanted pets.

This in addition to the 12 other things he's going to do. For now.

He's designing and building a new class of ship, a new type of steam locomotive, HO modules for a model train club he's befriended, all sorts of Lego constructions... you get the idea. He's an engineer at heart. In all its permutations.

He does need a pet badly. He's already not forgiven me for not providing a sibling. And the local squirrels are not very reliable playmates. We found a cricket in the house once. It was not doing well, since it didn't hop away from us. We put it in a plastic bug box, gave it water, some oats, and leaves for shelter. It was christened "Brownie". We set Brownie free to return to his cousins a few days later. He still talks about Brownie, even though it was a year ago.

He conjectures on having fish. Not directly. He tells me he will do this for his kids (of which it sounds like there will be many) when he's a dad.

Meanwhile, this good hearted creature causes me to fall in love with him, over and over, on a daily basis.

How lucky am I.

Baking Cookies

Tomorrow my son turns 8. (How did that happen so fast?) And when your birthday falls on a school day, what do you do but bring in birthday treats to share with your class. It's also a great opportunity to interrupt the day and get out of some class work.

This year, he opted for cookies. To be specific, chocolate chip/M&M cookies. Last year he went the traditional cupcake route. In kindergarden he opted for chocolate covered strawberries. They didn't go over too well with the class, but his teacher loved them.

Before I became a parent, I used to think about how much fun it would be to have kids and bake with them. I only have one kid. And he loves to bake (and sing and dance, but we'll get into that another time). But I found that with a little guy, my baking efforts became less about the process and more about the results. As in refridgerated cookie dough.

Sure, it's great when you're in college and discovering a whole new set of food groups. And it's great if you need some dessert in a hurry.

But for the purposes of baking, only real butter, real chocolate, real sugar and eggs, and a Kitchenaid mixer will do. There is something about a kid and an electric mixer. Kind of like a kid and a mud puddle. Just doesn't get much better.

So today, I'm baking birthday cookies. From scratch. Because I can. Because he asked.

Saturday, we bake lava cakes!

Home Alone

It's one of those rare days when I have the place to myself. As tempting as it is to get comfortable with my cup of coffee and watch Biography all morning while noshing on chocolate covered espresso beans, I am, instead, the model of efficiency.

I've done the dishes, showered, gotten the first load of laundry in, checked my email and gone looking for a new career. Oh, and gotten the offspring up and off to school with time to spare. All before 10:00am.

I'll probably crash soon. I had the chocolate covered espresso beans for breakfast.

Spring Ahead!

It's been a strange and unpredictable winter. The weather has been responsible for postponing many things.

Like Indoor Soccer.

Indoor soccer was to have ended weeks ago. A combination of snow days and reluctant school janitors resulted in a number of "postponed" games. We are still in the process of making them up.

What was to have been a program to get the kids active in the middle of the dark days of winter is now keeping them inside on this glorious of almost Spring days.

Granted, my boy loves running around during his soccer games. He loves being part of the team and has even known the excitement of making a few goals. But his obligations are keeping him inside. And that's too bad.

But not for me at this very moment. Because right now, I have some quiet time and the TV to myself.

And I'm enjoying it.

So sue me.

And if you haven't done it yet, set your clocks ahead!

Trash

We have two choices when it comes to dealing with our trash. Take it to the dump, or pay for a service to pick it up.

Needless to say, we are not the types to toss the trash into the wagon and head to the dump. So we have gone with Door Number Two - pay for a service to pick it up.

Here's the thing about trash pickup. In order for the service to take our trash, we have to put it out by the curb. My husband is incapable of remembering this even though our pickup day has always been Thursday. Usually, I take it out there, but today I didn't due to a swollen ankle. The other problem is the fact that our service is inconsistent. Some weeks they pick it up before 9:00am, other weeks it's nearly noon.

So they have lulled us into a false sense of trash pickup security and we don't think we need to worry about getting it out there early because they haven't come before 10:30 in months.

Today they came at 8:46am. They won't be back until next Thursday.

I would like to state, for the record, that we are making efforts to diminish our trash footprint. We recycle boxes, newspapers, catalogues, plastic, cans, bottles, and milk cartons. Still, the thought of a week's worth of trash and food waste mouldering out there makes my stomach queezy.

That, and paying for a service we didn't use this week.

Snow Daze

Happy Spring!

Not really. More like Wishful Thinking. It's the beginning of March and we were ushered in with a huge snowfall. I used to love snow. Now, it's starting to piss me off. Oh sure, it's lovely to look at, I'm okay with driving in it, and I love playing in it with my son. It's just so freakin' cold out there.

I want April showers now. So do the crocuses in front of the house, which stuck up their sunny yellow heads last week. I bet they feel stupid and slightly premature. No weather sense, those flowers.

The cool thing about snow and where we live, is that you can see what kind of critters are trespassing through your yard. We see deer tracks, rabbits, birds, dogs, and the wanton destruction of a little boy on a mission. Whatever his mission is, is known only to him. I suppose he could tell us what it is... but then he'd have to kill us. I'd rather not know anyway.

Sometimes, ignorance IS bliss.

And sometimes a crocus is extremely optimistic.