Cookies

Yesterday I changed the sheets on one crib and two beds by 8AM. Today I reassembled a baby car seat and changed 3 poopy diapers before 8AM.

And that is how I justify this delicious chocolate chip cookie and third cup of coffee.

Last night my hubby decided to make cookies which perfectly complimented my plans to veg on the couch and watch American Idol. After he took them out of the oven we heard Dylan's bedroom door open. Very sternly I told him to go back to bed.

Then he said, "What's that smell?"

I said, "Go, now!"

He said, "What's that smell, Mommy?" as he closed his door. I could feel the sadness in his footsteps.

We decided to let him in on our little party so hubby took him a cookie and then witnessed the joy that only a cookie could bring an almost three year old past bedtime.

Panic

"Dyyyyylan."

"Dyyyylaaaan."

"Dyyyyylaaaaaann!!!"

I could feel my heart beat in my throat. Reluctantly, I glanced at the river. I saw nothing. I ran into the garage. Nothing.

"Dyyyylaaaaan!!!" I glanced back at the river and saw something floating. It couldn't be him. I just heard him beep the horn on the Gator. He didn't have time to get all the way down there, did he? I looked closer, it was a log.

"Dyyylaaaaann!!!"

I didn't know where else to look. He always answers when I call.

After I ran up the back steps I banged on my back door.

"Jayme, I can't find Dylan!" I yelled in massive panic mode.

"He's right here," she said. "Oh, you poor thing."

I sank at the back door and forced my tears into hiding. Dylan sat down beside me like he understood my fear.

Now, as I'm typing the tears are flowing. I still feel like I could throw up any moment...that happened four hours ago.

Randomness

"I want to go there." I love the fact that Tina Fey gets comedic lines for 30 Rock from her toddler!

Sometimes I wish that the Noggin channel had a news scroll on the bottom...I'm feeling out of the loop.

I have a girl-crush on Alicia Keys. Have you seen The Secret Life of Bees?

Facebook is ruining my writing...I'm going to try to stay away from that time suck 'till Sunday. I think I can, I think I can....

My son keeps saying, "Roger doger," and I have no idea what it means.

This morning I discovered my precious daughter, Emory, loves blueberry muffins.

During the Spring I'm hoping to take a train ride to Baltimore to see my big bro. I've never traveled that way before. Have you?

Good Friends

I remember a conversation my father and I shared many moons ago. I was around thirteen when he informed me that in my 30s I would be lucky to have half as many friends as I did then, so not to worry about missing a silly sleep-over. I thought he was certified Ka-Ray-Zie! For one thing, I would never be 30...that was way old. And second, girl friends rule and boys drool. And not attending that sleep-over was detrimental to my bra size knowledge, duh!

He was right. Go figure.

The childhood friendships that I have managed to preserve will forever feed my soul. The bond between us who cracked up during prank calls, shared tears because of impossible parents and Algebra, harassed gym teachers, and perfected the MC Hammer in our tight-rolled blue jeans is thick and sacred. We survived our teens...and our twenties (that's another post or two). How? I'm not so sure.

We are now in our 30s and life is beginning to make sense. I understand and look forward while smiling at the past. However, sometimes I can't help but to think...

"We're adults. How did that happen and how do we make it stop?"

Pastas Anonymous

Hello. My name is Alysun and I'm a pasta addict.

It started with Penne. In college I worked at Ragazzi's and the head chef paired the noodle with an AMAZING spicy marinara. I was fully educated about the dangers of "gateway pasta" but naively thought it would never happen to me. Quickly my pasta of choice switched to Angel Hair. It's so light, so stringy. Hmmm, you can twist your fork for days. Then I went through them all, Rigatoni, Rotini, Elbow, Manicotti, Orzo, Ziti and even...I'm so ashamed...Wagon Wheels.

After I had children I toned it down a bit but Multi-colored Bow Tie became a favorite. Now, today, it's Wheat Linguine. I had it twice already. Twice...in one day! I need help. For lunch I smothered the flat pasta with portobello mushroom marinara and for dinner it was pesto sauce and asparagus.

Back in 2003 I quit cold turkey during the Atkins craze. For two whole weeks I was pasta-free! I lost eight pounds, bought new bluejeans but shortly fell off the wagon.

My addiction to pasta is definitely a love/hate relationship. I adore the texture, the plethora of sauces, and that super full feeling you can not experience with any other food. I despise the cravings, the looks from the Food Lion check-out girl, and the $60 lost on those jeans.

However, in this era of hope I'm trying to stay positive and strong...and at least I'm now choosing wheat pasta. Right?

Poetry

Elizabeth Alexander's poem at the Presidential Inauguration has struck a cord with me. The following line caught my attention and will not let it go...

"What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance."

What if the mightiest word is love?

Breathing Space

About a week ago this was the view from my back deck. After clicking the camera I just knew the breathtaking pink sky would not be portrayed as such in a photograph. However, I was pleasantly suprised and immediately named it Breathing Space after the graceful layouts in O Magazine. Who knew that I would see something similar in my own yard?

Speaking of breathing space...the air sure seems lighter knowing that Barack Obama's leadership is underway.

Watch Out Rachel Ray

Do you ever dread eating at home because you know nothing is in the fridge except butter and OJ and the pantry only holds canned vegetables and forever-old pasta? Well, that was me today. Sure I could have eaten peanut butter toast, again, but enough is enough.

Yes, I desperately need to go grocery shopping but we are leaving for our family vacation on Wednesday and I'm trying to prove something. Not sure what exactly...maybe that I can provide for my family with kitchen creativity.

I proved myself to myself at lunch. Who knew just one more thorough dig in the cheese/meat drawer would uncover prized, blue ribbon worthy sandwich makings. I found muenster cheese! (I think it was left over from what my Mom brought Christmas Eve...I didn't check the sell by date...dammit). Anyway, I made a grilled cheese sandwich with tomato and dried basil. DE-LISH!

I'm too scared now to go look for an expiration date but if I don't blog for a few days it may mean that I've poisoned myself with rotten cheese. Just kidding, I hope. While in the mountains I doubt I'll have blogger access. Waaaaaa!

Pepper Tooth vs. Bad Breath

Are you the type of person to tell an acquaintance if food is stuck in their teeth (a.k.a pepper tooth)? What if that person was a man or a woman...does gender make a difference? Surely you would tell a friend, right? What about bad breath? Would you be persistent if your gum offer wasn't accepted and they were about to enter a weighty board meeting?

In a boxing ring who would win,


Pepper Tooth




or Bad Breath?




Which is the lesser of evils? If forced to have one of these social faux pas could you choose? Would you prefer to know or be oblivious? Could you turn it into a joke or would you be devastated?

Yesterday I had lunch with a new friend. My enchilada espinicas were scrumptious and after I scarfed them down I wondered out loud, "Feels like I have spinach in my teeth." She heard me and said, "Let me see." Uneasily I smiled too big and she said, "Nope, you're good." If this story ended with a spinach leaf holding one of my teeth hostage I'm sure she would have told me so... after a chuckle or two...she seems cool like that.

Need Some Color

This week I have been reluctantly taking down Christmas decorations. My son first cried when hubby packed away the ornaments and then again when he discarded the tree. I felt his sadness. Santa's spirit tucked away until next December paired with the gloomy grey sky has made me a little, well, depressed. Not I'm gonna sleep all day depressed (even though that sounds magical) but I need some color depressed.

Hanging out in my yellow kitchen or plopping down on my red couch helps but I need more. Harris Teeter had flowers on sale, but I feel silly hugging the vase. I even got dressed this morning (with make-up!) and avoided my trusty black Columbia vest.

Maybe I'll finger paint with Dylan after school or go to the kids section of the library (we're welcome there now, remember this?) Maybe I'll make fajitas with red and green peppers for dinner. Maybe I'll watch a recorded episode of 30 Rock.

What picks you up?

Resolutions

Before Christmas I thought it was brilliant of me to begin my resolutions early. I know, kinda makes me want to vomit, too. My big one for this year was cooking a healthy breakfast for my family every morning.

This lasted for about what my hubby calls two "glorious" weeks. Eggs, fruit, grits, juice and sometimes bacon sure are yummy but every day is unrealistic. I mean, this morning I forgot to feed my baby. I dropped Dylan off at pre-school and was headed towards the gym when lo and behold there was no Earth's Best Oatmeal on my sweatshirt! She did drink a bottle of milk, however, thanks to my hubby, but no more.

And I thought I would cook? Every morning...seriously?

My other resolution was to keep a food diary. I'm a fairly healthy person but tend to "not count" the daily handfuls of M&M's or PB&J crusts. Again, this genius plan lasted for less than two not-so-glorious weeks.

So, if you are the type of person who likes to make resolutions but rarely keep them just follow my lead. Make them early. That way your wishes for the New Year aren't technically "New Year" resolutions. And when the obnoxious do-gooder asks about your 2009 changes you can nonchalantly say, "Um, I don't make any," and proceed to bring up the weather or NCAA basketball...but unless you are o.k. with raising eyebrows never volunteer that you forgot to feed your baby.

Kid Speak

Several days ago Dylan woke up from his nap and sat beside me on the couch. We snuggled as I flipped the tv channels and he looked up at me with sad eyes. I stroked his hair and asked him what was wrong.

He said, "Mommy, it makes me sad that Santa doesn't visit every little boy."

Of course my heart melted and I hugged him tight. Then I said, "Well, honey, we can gather some of your toys that you do not play with anymore and take them to those little boys," as I gave myself imaginary high-fives for being such a kick-ass parent.

My almost three year old replied, "Umm, I don't want to do that, Mommy."

Right about the time I begin to think that I've got this whole parenting thing in the bag a tiny voice lets me know that my job will never be done.