It Takes a Village

I am not an overly sentimental person. I don't put a lot of value in things; I am not terribly attached to Precious Moments figurines or collector plates or souvenir thimbles. I don't dress up my pets.

I have never purchased a home decor item simply because it was really cute.

And yet, twice a year - first at Halloween and again at Christmas, I am reduced to a squealing little girl at the prospect of setting up the holiday village. Wee houses and figurines and things that whirl and light up - they bring me more joy than any inanimate object should. Every time I yell "DON'T TOUCH THE VILLAGE!" to the children (which they do anyway), I think to myself, in another ten years I am going to be on one of those shows. Women who continue to set shit up 'for the kids' when the kids are in their 40s.

The Halloween village technically belongs to Katie. But until she moves out and takes it away from me, it's mine. One day - when I don't have kids who want to eat the inedible and break all breakables, I will add a water feature and multiple levels and mountains carved from styrofoam and...well, you get the picture. For now, it's still pretty cool. The best part is watching the children just sit and stare and smile. I wonder if it will be something they talk about when they're old and I'm gone - remember when mom would set up the village every year? 

 

It almost makes me think that I'm setting it up for them as much as for myself.

Winners Win. It's What We Do.

When I was in 7th grade, I won a pair of black jeans with the KISS FM radio logo (featuring a set of ruby red lips) emblazoned on the back pocket, and two tickets to see Foreigner with Guiffria.

Stop right there. If you know who Guiffria is, then you know what an awesome prize package this was. You will recognize that, simply by the virtue of the prize being awarded to me, I must be a natural born winner.

Unfortunately, I didn't have any friends whose parents would let them go to the concert with me. Not to mention, my parents wouldn't let me go with just a friend. So, in a cruel twist of fate suckage, I went to the concert with my mom. Naturally, I wore the jeans.

If you're lucky enough to know my mom, you know that she is a rockin' bitch. Still, being 12 and going to a rock concert with my mom was L.A.M.E. So when Guiffria took the stage, all thumping bass and big hair, and the lead singer starting working the crowd up -

"YEAH! AND WHEN YOU GO INTO WORK IN THE MORNING! YEAH! AND YOUR BOSS SAYS WHY ARE YOU LATE? YEAH! AND YOU CAN LOOK HIM IN THE EYE AND YELL FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!"

-and the entire crowd starts chanting "FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!"

Even when your mom is the coolest mom everrrrr, you want to dig a big fat hole and crawl right into it.

I have always thought that was the finest example of my life of winning, until today. Because today MOV, from the blog mothersofbrothers, let me know that I was a recipient of the Versatile Blogger Award. Which means more people get to hear me drop F-bombs and talk about my fascinating life, and for that I am very, very grateful. It also means that I (and you) can pop over to Mothersofbrothers and be introduced to a whole new bunch of bloggers who are doing a fantastic job of entertaining and informing their readers.

I am still waiting on an award that involves a cash prize.

And now I get to nominate some people for the award. I invite you to read all the blogs in my blog roll, they're there because I like reading them, and I think you will, too. But I want to spotlight two that I think really embrace the idea of versatility.

Band Back Together - If you're familiar with Becky from Mommy Wants Vodka (I love you, Becky! in a totally non-creepy you don't know me but I want to be your friend kind of way!), then you might be familiar with Band Back Together. It's a safe, secure, supportive place where women from all over can submit their stories. It's funny, it's sad, it's heartbreaking and uplifting. If you have a story to tell, if you need to know that you're not alone, you need to be a part of BBT.

no reEats - These bitches are cuh-razy. Three women, all dedicated to never making the same meal twice for an entire year. For those of us who find the same dinner in constant rotation ("What's for dinner? Let me guess - chicken."), they are an inspiration. One of the women is a long-time online friend of mine, and she is one of the most interesting people I've never met. Check out her other blog, The Yum Yum Factor, which is frequently featured on Tastespotting and other fancy pants foodie sites.

Theme Song

I have always believed that our lives would be significantly enhanced if only we had a soundtrack playing in the background during pivotal moments. Mundane moments, too, for that matter. Everyone knows how awesome having a kid is, or that first moment when you look into your partner's eyes and realize it's twue wuv. Now imagine it with a stirring, Henry Mancini-level orchestration in the background - it goes from great to spectacular.

I am often forced to compose my own score on the fly. This afternoon, I made cookies because sometimes I just need to bake something. I was explaining this to the Husband, but I didn't feel like he was totally getting it. So I decided to sing it.

"Sometimes I feel a deep, burning neeeeeeed...inside my soul, inside my heart, there is this neeeeeed. And when I get that feeling, there's just one thing to do, I have to cook that shit ouuuuuuuut!"

As usual, music hit the mark that was unreachable with mere words.

Katie gets it. I listened to her sing for ten minutes the other morning, a long, caterwauling ode to pre-teen angst. I remember doing the exact same thing when I was her age. Sometimes I got so into that I was moved to tears by my awesomeness.

"And my heart...my heart...it screams and cries with pain for you..." I am tearing up right now, I swear.

People talk about having a theme song for their lives, but I can't think of one that is exactly right for mine. Instead, I prefer to create my own soundtrack. One that turns the everyday into something special. Right now, I have to go score this baked ziti.

"Oh I apologize to all Italians, for I find I have no ziti, only egg nooooooodlesssss..."

So what's your theme song?

In the Mood

There is long list of things that must occur before sessy time can take place in the magical wonderland that is our bedroom. Planets must align. Choirs of angels must sing. Stars must congregate in the sky in the form of the Trojan Man.

Not so subtle hints start getting thrown out around 6.

Sooooo, hey...you look really good in those mom jeans.
Oh, I'd love to. Let's get everyone to bed on time and make it happen.

7:30 - OK, everyone has had a bath and supper! Into bed! What's that, Katie? You need a Native American costume for a presentation tomorrow? Hahahaha. OK, let's whip one together from a paper bag and some pipe cleaners.

8:00 - OK, for reals. Everyone in bed.

9:00 - After rocking, nursing, crying, rocking, pooping, playing, rocking, nursing...the baby finally gets to sleep.

Dude, I haven't showered today. And maybe yesterday. Give me 10 minutes.

9:15 - Out of the shower to the sounds of Zamfir's bitchin' pan flute coming through the iPhone. The lights are dimmed, a candle burns softly in the Thanksgiving themed votive holder Katie made in second grade. Nice. Nothing makes me hotter than the site of Tom Turkey peering at me with googly eyes over a vanilla scented Dollar Tree candle.

9:20 - I crawl into bed and begin my stretching and moaning regime.

Geeeez. My back is killing me.
I'm not rubbing your back.
I didn't ask you to! I'm just stretching. And I'm warning you - leave my boobs alone. Henry's been chewing my nipples and, just don't mess with them.
Okay?

9:22 - As if on cue, the baby wakes up.

9:47 - I crawl back in bed.
Are you asleep?
No.
OK, where were we?
You were telling me not to touch you.
Oh MY GOD. Are you going to start with that?
Will you stop arguing! It's always something.
OK OK OK, just stop. Let's start over. Will you rub my back a little?
NO.
OK! (I turn over and the tummy, it is grumbly). Oh geez.
What now?
I shouldn't have eaten all that granola. I'm a little gassy.
Are you going to fart? If you're going to fart, will you please leave the room?
OH MY GOD. ONE TIME. ONE TIME in 20 years, I fart during sex and now all of sudden I'm constantly farting!
It was one time, in my face.
Honestly, you're lucky it hasn't happened more. Statistically speaking...
Will you shut up?
I'm sorry. Of course, where were we?
Was that the baby?
There's always tomorrow night. 

On the upside, I have perfected my granola bar recipe!

Granola Bars
Makes approximately 24 2x2 inch bars, recipe can halved - adjust pan size and baking time to about 20-25 minutes

Ingredients

• 16 ounces old-fashioned rolled oats, approximately 4 cups
• 3 ounces raw sunflower seeds, approximately 1 cup
• 1 cup shredded coconut
• 3 ounces wheat germ, approximately 1 cup
• 6 ounces honey, approximately 1/2 cup
• 6 ounces maple syrup, approximately 1/2 cup
• 1/2 cup Dark brown sugar, packed
• 2-ounce (4 T) unsalted butter, plus extra for pan
• 4 teaspoons vanilla extract
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt
• 1 cup dried fruit, any combination (I use craisins)
• 3/4 cup semisweet chocolate chips

Directions

Butter a 9 by 13-inch glass baking dish and set aside. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

Spread the oats, sunflower seeds, coconut, and wheat germ onto a sheet pan. Place in the oven and toast for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally.
In the meantime, combine the honey, maple syrup, brown sugar, butter, extract and salt in a medium saucepan and place over medium heat. Cook until the brown sugar has completely dissolved.
Once the oat mixture is done, remove it from the oven and reduce the heat to 300 degrees F. Immediately add the oat mixture to the liquid mixture, add the dried fruit, and stir to combine. Add the chocolate chips and stir gently. Turn mixture out into the prepared baking dish and press down, evenly distributing the mixture in the dish and place in the oven to bake for approximately 35 minutes (top will be dry, but still springy when pressed down). Remove from the oven and allow to cool completely. Cut into squares and store in an airtight container for up to a week.
Bars cut best when completely cool.