Sharing Some Smiles

Naps

Lately, his book of choice is Curious George Rides a Bike.  We settle into the glider, snuggling and reading until my voice coaxes him into slumber.  Every once in a while, the backseat grows quiet, Abbey succumbing to a much-needed nap.  After our half marathon, but before picking up the kids, Ryan and I stole a brief, luxurious nap before noon.

 

Happy Grandma

After years of putting everyone else's needs before her own, my mom retired this September and had their kitchen cabinets and counters replaced, a project she's been talking about for a long time.  She deserves fourteen kitchens for the sacrifices she's made throughout the years, but this one makes her smile.

muffin recipe courtesy of Move Over Mary Poppins

visit for the recipe but stay for her amazing storytelling

Pumpkin

My mom's pumpkin bread kicks off my Christmas season, but until she begins baking, I seek out the flavor in other goodies-the pumpkin spice latte from Biggby Coffee or the above Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Muffins are my favorites this year.

 

Playing Outside, Before Gloves Become a Necessary Accessory

Equipped with Diet Pepsi, a Toy Story bottle of water, my ever present writer's notebook, a little leaf picked by small fingers "just for you, Mama", and a kleenex for slightly runny noses, we are soaking in the remaining outdoor weather that doesn't require wrestling Abbey and Dylan into snowsuits.

Photos courtesy of Pinterest

Click for source information

Fall Fashion

Dresses with tights and boots, jeans and cozy scarves, warm neutrals and pops of color.  I'm finding myself drawn to casual looks this fall, jeans with cute accessories (though I just can't get away from a good heel!)  With two little ones, and only one who enjoys shopping, I haven't made any of my fashion dreams a reality yet this fall.  There's still time, right?

This week at just.be.enough. we're talking about Five Things That Make Us Smile.

What made you smile this week?

Every MONDAY join us…
Write, post, link-up, share your story and your voice. Be part of carrying the weight of confidence, empowerment and share our mission
to empower, inspire, and remind women, parents and children
that the time has come to celebrate ourselves!

Next week’s prompt: The truth...

(Remember you can also write on a topic of your choice.)

Looking for My Training Wheels

From afar, you may not recognize the little girl confidently riding that bike. 



Looking closer, you will see the small bike is purple, decorated with princesses, and matches the purple, flowered helmet atop the darkening blonde head.

Yes, that's Abbey riding that big girl bike!  Thankfully, she hasn't mentioned removing the training wheels yet.

 

Speaking of that, where are the training wheels for motherhood?  We are so grateful to Grandma Sharon for finding such a wonderful bike for our girl, but I was a little thrown by how much she looked like a child, and not my little preschooler, on that bike.

I wrote more about this new stage over at Just.Be.Enough if you'd like to read more about what seeing her on that bike taught me about Abbey.

I'm also linking up with Poppy again, because how in the world did my baby girl grow into a bike like that already?  Next she's going to want the keys to the car.



The Flip Side

With our beloved Nan in town, the kids and I have been spending oodles of time hanging out at my parents and basking in the glow of great grandma time.  With four generations of women gathered under one roof, I've been thinking a lot about my relationship with my mom and my relationship (current and future) with Abbey.

I could write a sentimental post about that, but instead, I'm responding to Mama Kat's prompt: if my mom were a blogger. 

What would happen if I handed over the reins to my mom?

She would talk politics. 

There are political watchgroups that don't know as much as my mom about certain issues in government.  When we agree, I think we're both brilliant.  When we don't?  Well, I don't like to argue with her, because she brings up things I've never even heard about, and then I don't feel so brilliant anymore.

She would talk Michigan State sports.

Between my mom and Ryan, nothing that happens in East Lansing goes unnoticed.  While you might read about my love of tailgating here, you'll have to wait for my mom to guest post if you want to know about the ins and outs of recruiting and NCAA regulations. 

She would talk books.

My mom is the one who carted me to the library weekly and let me check out as many books as I wanted and didn't care if they were above my reading level or not.  Reading is part of my soul, and she is absolutely responsible for that. 

She would never, ever talk shopping or fashion or style.

She might have had her own parking spot at the library, but she didn't take me to the mall except for early Sunday mornings when she used the expansive, empty parking lot to teach me to drive.  Thankfully she let me have a Seventeen subscription in junior high or I might still be wearing electric blue Wet & Wild eyeshadow.

She would post pictures of my kids.  And tell stories about my kids.  And post more pictures.  And tell more stories.

I might think Abbey and Dylan are bordering on MENSA status and two seconds away from prestigious modeling contracts, but my mom is an even bigger fan. 

So Mom, what do you think?  Ready to try on your blogging shoes?

Dylan would read Grandma's blog!

Christmas Begins - RemembeRED

This week’s RemembeRED prompt was to think of a sound or a smell that reminds you of something from your past and write a post about that memory.

I am positive I didn’t do my mom’s pumpkin bread justice with this post, but I had to write about it. Even now, it’s the smell of holidays and warmth and family for me. Pavlov should have ditched the bell and used a pan of my mom's pumpkin bread to show conditioned reflexes.  I get excited to buy a new pumpkin spice candle each year and can’t wait for the pumpkin spice lattes to hit the coffee shops. Despite having her recipe, it’s not the same unless she makes it, so I just wait for hers. Only nine more months…


Christmas Begins

Long before there were salmonella warnings, there were children leaning against their mothers in the kitchen, waiting to dip little fingers into some delicious, unbaked concoction that would later become a special treat.

I was one of those children.

Now, my mom isn’t the mom who always had fresh baked cookies on the table when we came home from school. She was more likely to be found cleaning the kitchen than baking in it, the scent of Murphy’s Oil Soap overtaking my senses as I walked in the door.

But when the weather turns cold, and Christmas carols begin to trickle onto the loudspeakers at department stores (which in my childhood didn’t happen until after Thanksgiving), my mother pulls out her baking shoes. Lying dormant the rest of the year, my mom’s baking genes come alive around the holidays, when she expertly crafts a few perfected recipes.

Every year, I fidgeted, waiting for my mom to open the canned pumpkin. Every year, I immediately poked my finger quickly into the bright orange mound and then quickly into my mouth, shocked each time that it wasn’t the sweet batter I remembered.

Calmly, she let my brother and I add ingredients to the mustard yellow Corelle mixing bowl, checking the blue and white recipe card, though she probably knew the measurements by heart.

Patiently, she folded in sugar and eggs and flour and spices, mixing it all with a hand mixer, making sure that my eager fingers didn’t find their way between the whirling metal beaters.

As the bright orange of the pumpkin darkened with the addition of flour and cinnamon and nutmeg, the familiar scent of Christmas flooded my senses. The slight bitterness of the pumpkin was coaxed into something warm, spicy, and sweet, a batter that promised to chase away the snow and cold.

With a practiced, steady hand, my mom poured thick batter into bread pans, sliding them into the preheated oven.

My brother and I were each handed a metal beater to lick clean, our little tongues wrapping around the metal to find every drop of the spiced, yet sugary, batter.

The warm smell of my mom’s pumpkin bread filled our house as she made loaf after loaf, allowing them to cool before wrapping them in aluminum foil to be stored the week or two until Christmas.

As the batter baked into bread in our brown oven, the Christmas season began.

Three Brides?

I was honored to wear my mom's veil when I married Ryan.  Let's be honest, I wanted my own dress, but my sentimental side was thrilled that I could wear something that was a part of her wedding day.

This weekend, Grandma Sue & Grandpa Ray came over to play with the kids while Ryan and I retreated to the basement to try to organize that mess of a black hole.  I read Ryan's yearbook comments, tried on my wedding dress, and took my veil upstairs to let Abbey play with it. 

Maybe she'll wear it one day as well?

Oh, and we bagged a TON of books for our library's used book sale next month and a ton of miscellaneous stuff for the Salvation Army and actually threw out some things that weren't even charity-worthy.  Ryan continued our efforts by carting ten (or so) giant plastic totes up to our attic (including the infamous baseball card collection.) 

Operation Declutter is looking up.

An Oldie but a Goodie

Relentless with a trash bag, my mom scours the house looking for things to send to the curb.  As children we were banned from the formal living room, where the parallel lines of her vaccuum cleaner stood guard.  The fireplace mantle was sparsely decorated, only family photos were deemed important enough to decorate her hearth. 

You can call her unsentimental, but you would be wrong.

When Abbey was born, treasures began spilling forth from her (I'm betting) meticulously organized attic.  Sesame Street books, Golden books, and Little Bear books in almost mint condition, although I know they were read often, as the stories came flooding back the minute I heard her calm voice reading to my daughter (and now my son).  An old Speak & Spell, a toy that held my attention for countless road trips, long before the days of the DS. 

Perhaps the most exciting of all are the vintage Fisher Price toys - the drum containing other instruments, the circus cars with the clown and multitude of animals that can hang from the cars, and the little barn with the door that still (almost) moos when you open it to let the animals in and out.

So keep her away from your overflowing closets, packed cabinets, and disorganized drawers, but those perfect little toys show that my mom would never throw out anything that really matters.

Dylan and Daddy playing with the barn

Happy Birthday to You

Happy Birthday to my Mom

There are no words to express how much my mom means to me (and I'm into words, if you haven't discerned that yet!)  She is loving, generous, caring, and patient in ways I can only hope to be.  Anyone who kept calm and patient through my adolescence deserves special kudos, and my mom never hardly ever lost her patience with me and always made me aware that she loved me and had faith in me.  I used to think she loved my brother and me more than the whole world, but seeing her with Abbey and Dylan makes me realize how much love she truly has to give.  She is magical with them.

xoxo

doesn't Dylan look shocked to find out how many candles Grandma will need this year?

ha ha ha ha ha

I guess I'm not quite through that snotty teenage phase yet