Has anyone seen my...?

I point at the unwrapped box in Garrett's hand. "What's that?"

"It's because one of you is always losing your keys," my mom repeats.

What?  

"I lose my phone all the time." We have special places for our keys. They are rarely misplaced.

Garrett says if there were a nature show about me, the Call of the Brandi would be has anyone seen my phone?

But it's the thought that counts, so we thank my parents.

Two weeks later...

Running from room to room, I quiz the kids with the same daily questions. "Where is my phone? Has anyone seen my phone?"

Max grins. "Why don't you use your key finder?"

I don't know where he gets such a smart mouth.

What about you? If you could put a tracking device on something, what would it be? 

Princess Alexandra

Princess Alexandra loves playing with other princesses. Boys, however, are another story.

















:Would you like to dance?


Alexandra turns her back on him.

: Would you like to dance?

: No. No. Go away. You can't dance with us.  Go away.

: May I have this dance?

She hurls the prince across the room.

Then she looks up.

:Superman? (She thrusts Superman at me and batts her eyes.) Talk to me, Superman. Talk to me. (She sways to music only she and the little princesses clutched in her fists can hear.) Dance?


Okie dokie.  No normal guy. No prince. The girl has standards.  She wants Superman.

I can live with that.

A Tale of Two Elves

I will honor Christmas in my heart 

and try to keep it all the year. 

--Charles Dickens

Snow Daze

We had a snow day!

Grateful the snow didn't pack into snowballs

Then we had another one

followed by a weekend,

and another snow day,

and two more after that.

Whew! 

Max remembered how much fun snow can be because he LOVES to dig.

Snow is soooo much better than the sandbox

Alexandra only experienced a light dusting last year, so when I told her we needed to get dressed to go play in the snow, she selected this outfit:

Looking more like a spring fairy than a snow bunny

We finally convinced her it was cold outside. She became a believer. Moments after this photo was taken she stripped off her gigantic gloves and became so cold she wanted to go back inside.

"Hi, Snow!"

This year was the first time sledding for both munchkins. I hadn't gone in years (decades?). Alexandra cried and laughed both times I went down with her.  (Once she learns to keep her gloves on in twenty degree temps, she'll have much more fun.) Max managed to divert us into a snow pile when I went down with him. After all, what's sledding without getting snow down your pants?

Max loving life and Alexandra hating the snow on her bare hands when she fell

On the third day of snow, we were grateful to attend a Superhero birthday party. It was the same day as the OU/OSU bedlam game. It was a good day.

Super Sooner and Superman

Cabin fever prompted me to dig through the Christmas activities I had reserved Christmas Break.  (Okay, I only had one activity planned and now it's gone, gone, gone.) We made a gingerbread house out of stickers and foam. Mostly I made the house.  Max kept asking me why it wasn't real and why he couldn't eat the real one that he and his grands had made last year. "Because your grandmothers put the pieces together with pins instead of icing." He still doesn't understand. And, after encouraging his sister to eat a foam gumdrop, they happily went off to play.

Alexandra is very proud of the house they built

Great-grandma Celeste came over. 

My helpers

She spent a lot of time (justifiably) shaking her head, covering her mouth with her hand, and laughing at my culinary skills. I was so excited to use my little pie maker and let the kids help.  Eh.

Martha Stewart, watch out.

Overall, it was a wonderful experience.  I watched our children cope with having only each other to play with and thought, "They are learning to love and appreciate each other even more--as long as they don't kill each other first."

eating fudge by the Christmas tree

Well, that's the true Christmas message when we get right down to it, isn't it?


What are you favorite things to do by yourself or with kids on snow days?

Talking Turkey

My mind flew all over the place. I might have talked up this craft thing a bit much. I possess no gift for glitter and glue. In fact, it makes me a tad nervous.

But my friend Lisa had just taught a Thanksgiving song to our four enthusiastic preschoolers and toddler, and I couldn't resist the great segue.

And a mother is obliged to help her little turkeys spread their wings.

And I had a lot of toilet paper rolls ready for recycling.

The kids were all giggles and excitement. The baby loaded wiggly eyes in her mouth. The preschoolers grappled for the too-few scissors.

I panicked.

Clasping my hands, I tried to look more delighted than desperate. "Next, we're going to trace each others hands!" My knuckles were white. Might they jab each other with the giant pencils?

Nope.

The big brothers traced their sisters' dimpled little hands. The little sisters traced their brothers'. They cut some paper and smeared some glue before skedaddling off to dump boxes and rummage through book shelves and wrestle.

I wanted to quit more than once, but Lisa powered through. So I did, too.

Let me introduce you to our turkey:

Yes, that's a turkey.

I got the idea on Pinterest. It was supposed to look different.

Of course.

Pinterest: the place where moms everywhere "pin" their delusions of grandeur.

According to the many photos on Pinterest, our art should look more like a bird and less like some modern statement of the cock-eyed insanity that is the holiday season.

But that's why I love it.

The messy parts make life memorable and unique. Striving for perfect Pinterest holidays or prime-time tv ideal ultimately leads to disappointment. Reality can not live up to the fantasy.

During holiday season 2013, I plan to embrace the cock-eyed individuality of the moment. This year, I hope to find beauty and happiness and thankfulness in the authentic.

How about you?  Have you ever had a fantasy holiday/event/moment turned upside down...and been happier for it? Tell me about it.

If you'd like to focus on stress-busting this holiday season, check out Dr. Lisa Marotta's series on her blog here.

Happy Fall, Y'all

My husband navigated the winding road in the twilight.  In October, the bone-like trees might look creepy stretching into the crisp air and silhouetted against the sky, but the car was warm with contentment.  

This, I thought, this is one of those days I longed for when doctors told us a family wasn't in our future.

Sometimes I time my kids to see how long they can go before whining or doing something obnoxious to the other like Alexandra kicking Max or Max telling her everything she does is wrong. (FYI: This morning the record was 8 minutes.)

But this weekend was filled with those moments of wonder a to-be parent longs for.

At Peek-a-Boo Petting Zoo we discovered baby chicks...

baby bottles....

bunnies...

a hay maze...

fishing for rubber duckies...

 and a princess with her pumpkin.

We topped off the day with dinner at Soda Steve's, a fun soda shop that would fit right into a show like Gilmore Girls or Hart of Dixie.

The next day we decided to take our little knight and princess to the Castle in Muskogee for Pumpkin Kingdom.

Lots of scary things lurked within the castle walls and in the village after dark,

but we opted for a hayride,

balloon sword and doggie, 

and a bouncy house (apparently, this was scary).  

We had a great weekend with our little pumpkins.

And I'm so glad. Making memories is important.  One never knows what's lurking around the bend.

(For me, I'm pretty sure it's a mountain of laundry populated with giant dust bunnies.)

Happy fall, ya'll.

Choose a Happy Ending

My babies are embarking on big adventures.

My baby girl starts a Mother's Day Out program later this month. My son starts preschool.  They both have wonderful teachers. And I'm so thankful.

And terrified. Because I fear my beautiful, spirited, smart, self-assured girl might encounter someone in the world who might tell her she's not those things.

I fear my son's love for life and curiosity for how things work may be dampened with rules.

We watched Cinderella recently.  Alexandra loves anything "pletty," so the movie dazzled her. She oohed and aahed. Max squealed when the sparkles began. "It's magic! Look, it's magic!"  For days afterward, Alexandra convinced anyone nearby to try a shoe, any shoe, on her foot. Max decided we needed magic wands.

They loved the beauty of the movie. I loved that Cinderella was kind and brave and found friends in those whom many overlook.   She didn't let her stepsisters and stepmother define her. She knew who she was. And without her spunk she'd never have escaped the prison other women created for her.

Likewise, my children are strong and stubborn. I want them to know how I admire that in them. They'll need those traits as they go into the world.

Because, sometimes, strangers, acquaintances, and even those one cares about say things that hurt.

I had three specific examples of instances when people had hurt me, but I deleted them.  There's no need to put mean words back out there.  (There's enough of that in the world--and especially on social media.) These same people said nice things about me, too. But years later, I still remember the time and place of each of these instances and can't recall a specific compliment. As ridiculous as they were, these mean statements became part of how I defined myself because I assumed that's how others saw me. But the problem is that I let someone else change how I saw myself.
 These statements were said as if how I was made was wrong.

And that's not right.

My children will face ogres and monsters and witches masquerading as people--and even friends.  And I hope they possess enough of the magic we call love to acknowledge that true beauty comes from within and that love of self is very powerful magic indeed.

I know life isn't a fairy tale.  But I want it to be.

My grandmother taught me long ago that the happily ever after doesn't lie in the hands of fate.  A person writes his or her own happy ending. One first must choose it to be so. When one experiences conflict, happiness must again be chosen.  Every person is perfect in his or her own way, and children deserve to feel that way.  Every boy deserves to feel the devotion of a princess. Every girl deserves a prince charming who will rescue and protect her--even if it's only from herself.

I know happily ever after isn't a reality for everyone. But it should be.

I hope my precious children know that.


 ****

Just this week, a collection of links to articles popped up on my friends' Facebook pages that inspired this blog.  I've posted links below. 

Unhappily ever After--a group of satirical(?) pictures of fairy tale princesses after they've married their princes.

An Open Letter to Kate Middleton--encouraging words to moms and their bodies

Thigh Gap--apparently, it's the hottest trend for starting school

How to Talk to Your Daughter about her body--I disagree with some of this article, but like most of it. For example, I think it's okay to tell my daughter she's beautiful. 

*Added 8-10* The Day I Stopped Saying Hurry Up: I forgot to add this one and it is so important to remember, especially now that school is starting.

 Words are powerful. Choose wisely.

Summer Salads: Shel Harrington

My friend and fellow Inkling Shel Harrington is at the party today.

 

My own grandma regularly served a version of this magical goodness, and I'm pretty sure I've had the meal Shel describes in the Magical Meal portion.  This sweet concoction makes me nostalgic for family gatherings of yesteryear, which is fitting because Shel believes in traditional family values.  By day Shel is many things. One of them is a divorce lawyer--who doesn't like divorce.

If you are in any stage of a relationship, check out her blog.  She offers sage relationship advice with a dash of humor, compassion...and attitude.

But first, whip up her recipe. It won't take long!

Shel Harrington's Peach Fluff

This picnic-worthy salad is a blast from my past. With only four ingredients, it can be whipped up and ready to contribute to that potluck in minutes. This is my “you need it by when???” salad.

             

The ingredients are so accessible that even in a pinch I know I’ll be able to find everything at the local grocery store in my small town. Here’s the list:

 

                        16 oz. Cool Whip                       

                        4 cups cottage cheese

                        Large box of peach Jello

                        Large can (or two small) sliced peaches, drained

(reserve 5 slices for decoration, dice up remaining slices)

Step 1

In an electric mixer, mix the cottage cheese, Jello, and diced peaches until the jello powder is thoroughly blended (it won’t be smooth).

Step 2

            Fold in the Cool Whip.

Step 3

Scoop your lovely concoction into a serving container and garnish with a peach-slice flower. (I added a blackberry center)

I told you it was easy!

Complete Magical Meal Suggestion

For a magical meal, step back in time with grandma’s fried chicken, potato salad with crunchy celery, and deviled eggs to compliment your fluff. Finish off the meal with bite-size brownies or homemade cookies for a taste of chocolate. What to drink? Sparkling cider is a festive family-friendly beverage choice reminiscent of days gone by. The over 21-crowd might may prefer a fun-flavored hard lemonade.  

Special Tricks
In addition to being tasty and quick, this salad is versatile. If you are serving a small group, you can use the smaller sized Cool Whip, Jello, and cottage cheese (but stick with the larger sized peaches so that you have enough slices for your garnish). Fun alternatives include using fresh peaches when in season and experimenting with different combinations of jello flavors and complimentary fruits (how about mixed berry Jello with blueberries?).

Whether contributing to a potluck, entertaining guests, or whipping up a meal for the family, this light tasty salad fills the bill and transports you back to a simpler time.

Happy Birthday, Brother

My brother had rules.
1.  Don't hug him.
2.  Don't go in his room.
3.  Don't touch anything if he allows me in said room. (His dog Yoda could drool on his pillow, but if I so much as wrinkled the comforter, I apparently left my inherently offensive sister-smell on it.)
4. Do what he says. 

He reinforced his views with backup.
Mooooom! Tell her to stop singing at the table.
Mooooom! Make her sit with her legs together.
Mooooom! She has milk-breath. (Again, the dog?)

Even then, I suspected Brett loved me.  After all, he loved his dog.  And he called me a dog so often that in the first grade I barked and walked on all-fours at school for a period of time. 

photo credit: Martha Bryant                                Disney World

As if my sheer existence wasn't embarrassing enough for a brother five years older than the little sister who idolized him, it would seem that having a dog for a sibling would push him over the edge.

It didn't.

He was too cool for that. We watched Empire Strikes Back for his 10th birthday. I've been a scifi geek--if mostly closeted--ever since.  He gave me Madonna's True Blue tape.  I memorized every word. One of my favorite memories is us blowing up his models in the field behind our house while filming it. It's no surprise I wanted to create a story to accompany the explosions, but he was the special effects guy and had no time for his little sister's nonsense.

As an adult, he put a poster of a monkey in his classroom and told his students it was a picture of his sister.  When visiting him once, a child ran up and hugged him around his kneecaps (my brother is 6'2").  Brett introduced me as his sister.  The kid's eyes widened and he whispered. "She doesn't look like her picture!"

That's when I found out I had been promoted from canine to primate.

I should not have felt as happy as I did.

In addition to being older, and therefore cooler, Brett was good at stuff I was not. Probably our biggest scholastic difference is his scientific mind. I signed up for an astronomy class in college, thinking it was astrology.  Brett became a science teacher.  One of my biology teachers accused me of asking "stupid questions" as a joke.  Another student came to my "defense" and informed her that, no, I really was that bad in science.  Such an event never happened to my brother. He created spectacular science projects.  The science fair filled me with dread, but it lit him with excitement. Most of my projects were his ideas and simple--like making a compass by rubbing a needle against a magnet. I had no ideas of my own.

He's still teaching me.

Earlier this summer, he showed up at my house with shears.  Since he's all science-y, Mother Nature likes him. Plants wilt at the sight of me. Brett has a green thumb. Mine is black. 

Every once in a while, he beautifies my neglected yard.  Most recently, he brought reinforcements.  The whole family--okay, mostly Uncle Brett and Aunt Lisa--lopped limbs, trimmed bushes, and pulled weeds for an hour or so. I tried to guess where he would next tell me to clip, but I was always wrong. Of course. A beautiful lawn is a science.

Brett and Lisa in their backyard aka Eden

 A horsefly bit him that afternoon. He shrugged as blood dripped down his leg and went on clipping. If that had been me, I would have curled into the fetal position.

Still, it was . . . fun.  Usually, the surest way to get me to cuss is to do yard work, but with our families working together it was a garden party.  Maybe next time I'll have snacks and drinks. 

I'm not sure what motivates him to help us with our yard.  Maybe he recognizes my complete incompetence with all things green.  Maybe he feels sorry for plants who can't cry as my children do to complain of thirst. Maybe he's embarrassed by how sad our lawn looks and that people know we're related.  Maybe he is just super generous and knows it makes me happy.

Whatever the reason... it really, really does make me happy. Like getting that Madonna cassette or being allowed to cross the threshold of his room and play Atari.  I looked at my front yard this morning and sighed. It was pretty. I felt cool.

And I was so glad my little ones witnessed siblings as friends who know their siblings' greatest weaknesses and faults. And they help make them right with the world.  I tried to drive the point home with my son. "Isn't it nice of Uncle Brett and Aunt Lisa to come help us?"

Max nodded. "That's what brothers do."

Indeed.

That, and compare their little sisters to animals.

photo credit: Martha Bryant

Happy birthday, Brett the Brat.


Anyone have a sibling story to share?  How does your sibling help balance you?

Camping Round Up

Are you a happy camper?

 

This post explains how I avoid tent camping with my babies.

This one indicates I do enjoy the great outdoors.

Posts like this one about the Inklings and this one about the Red Tent Sisterhood show I'm not totally opposed to camping within walls. And with air conditioning.

Have you seen my post on Oklahoma Women Bloggers today? I shared my guide on how to glamp.

What do you think about camping? What about glamping? Where is your favorite spot to camp/glamp?

Gnomes at Our Chateau

I spent the weekend with gnomes. Alexandra twists the tips of their hats each time she arrives at our chateau. (Okay, it's an old camper ya'll, but it's on a hill, so I call it The Chateau.)

Being so close to nature makes me realize how small I am.

The chiggers remind me that no matter how big I am little things can get to me.

But the gnomes never falter. These little guys work hard.

They also know when to take it easy and add whimsy to the world.

I wish I could harness their magic.

After all, it's their world, too.

Sink or Swim

When we took this photo, we had no idea how much we truly were living on the edge. 

We were on vacation.  When nothing bad can happen. Right?

We were so naive.

When we decided to leave the pool, we removed the kids' life jackets. As he has so often done, Max declared that he didn't need swimming lessons or a life jacket because he already knew how to swim.

Then he jumped in.

We've all heard the saying "sink or swim." I figured he'd get a little scared and then realize that some skills need to be learned. Maybe, I thought, this would be a good lesson.

We all watched him. He was only a couple of feet from me. He seemed fine. Maybe Max had been right all along and he truly could swim.  He has a build similar to Olympian Michael Phelps --long body, big feet, broad shoulders.  Maybe he would show us all. Good for him.

His eyes were wide and he had a dazed smile on his face--like maybe he was surprised.  He moved his arms and legs like he was trying to move toward the stairs and climb them. He opened his mouth as if to speak and then closed it.

That's when Garrett jumped in and pulled him into his arms.

Thank God.   Thank God Garrett was there.  Reality punched me in the gut.  We'd all been watching him struggle right in front of me, but I thought he was okay. Thank God Garrett was there.

Not long after we returned a friend posted this article on Facebook, and I lost it.  Full blown tears. If I'd been unnerved at the pool, I was terrified when I read the article. We are so, so lucky.

Read this article.  Drowning doesn't look like it does on television.  Know the signs.

Max splashed through his first official swim lesson today.  He wasn't scared, and he didn't have false bravado either. When the instructor asked for a volunteer, I heard his little voice ring out. "I can try."

And he did.