Friday Favorite: Growing Lollipops

I'm not much of a gardener, but even I didn't mess this one up.

Plant jelly beans the day before Easter.

And just look at what blooms on Easter morning!

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? 

List Maker, List Maker, make me a list!

Santa doesn't check his list twice because he fears improperly categorizing children--magic doesn't make mistakes, silly.  He does it because checking things off feels good.

I understand this addiction. I, too, am a list maker.

Each January provides the opportunity to create a new list of goals.  When someone asks me if I made a New Year's Resolution, I struggle not to roll my eyes like a twelve-year-old girl.  Resolutions are made to be broken. Ask anyone whose bank account still sends money straight toward the local gym even their gps forgot how to locate.

And a single resolution? pu-leeez.

This girl (moi) makes a measurable list of goals with a plan to achieve them. It's fun.

Plus, coming down off the high of the holidays isn't so bad when one has the opportunity to check a list and see improvements in existence.

The list for 2014 is 2 1/2 pages long.  Single spaced. 11 point font.  My husband and I select a theme (Live More in Two-Zero-One-Four) that becomes a mantra, influencing decisions throughout that year. We categorize goals for each of our children, our family, our home, our relationship, and our office. We list personal goals and sometimes add a separate category depending on the year.

Obsessive? Perhaps.  But we find satisfaction in measuring growth and acknowledging what we need to improve. For example, two years ago I didn't accomplish a single goal on my personal list, but in 2013 I accomplished most of them. I had to see it on paper before I recognized how I was cheating myself at life. Progress!

When we didn't make annual goals, we shuffled through life beating ourselves up. If one doesn't pause to reflect, it's easy to get bogged down in the major stresses.  If one doesn't pause to plan, it's easy to lose sight of hope.

This year, my blog has goals of its own.  Several series are planned that I'm really excited about. Since connecting people is one of my favorite pastimes, I will continue to do so. Recognizing the magic in everyday life is another.  I'm going to be more thoughtful and courageous in what I share as well as more helpful.

Because this year will pass, I want to make it count.  What about you?

Check out Lisa Marotta's blog on planning goals for your year.
If you are in a relationship, check out Shel Harrington's post for improving that in 2014.

I find magic in everyday life and shout it to the blogosphere. 

What little thing happened to you recently that felt magical to you? 

Homecoming Reunion

My children wear orange and black stripes. I want to support the town I live in, my parents' and children's hometown. I even bought a shirt with the word Tigers across the chest.

But it doesn't change the fact that my blood still runs like a Bulldog's.

Homecoming Court 1993

  I remember the dance to the fight song and am not afraid to do it.

Headed to Nationals, baby!

When I feel the bass drum of a marching band in my belly, I see red and black. When sneakers squeak on a gym floor, I remember slam dunks and three pointers and open mouthed opposing teams. When I walk in a theater, I feel at home.

Polariod taken during opening night. That look on my face? Acting. The dress? Sewn on.

When a football team rushes a field beneath a star-studded sky, I breathe deeply and wonder when the news helicopter will arrive to catch footage of our record-breaking running back and a team with heart.

That's what I remember most about my high school: heart.

When I hear someone (from another school, obviously) speak with anathema of their classmates, it saddens me. They missed out on so much. I'm not saying heartbreak and humiliation didn't happen to me or others--we were teenagers, after all--but there is so much more to treasure from those years. And the hard stuff taught me things. It was a good place to grow up because I was lucky to grow up with nice people.

And that can make all the difference.

I graduated with about 103 others.  In middle school, our class was twice that size, but closed factories, an oil bust and the economy caused a mass exodus. Maybe watching so many leave made us hold on to each other a little more.

We called ourselves The Class that Makes Traditions.  Yeah, we had a motto. We knew we were special.

10 year reunion.  Can you find me?

I missed my reunion this weekend.  Many things prevented me from attending, but on the morning of the reunion I thought the stars had aligned so that I could at least make the parade, tailgate, and game. For a couple of hours, I was ridiculously excited.

But, we had two people out at the office. Then, my daughter got sick.  Then...

I went on Facebook to wish a classmate a belated birthday. After posting a cheery message on his board, I scrolled down.

My heart stopped. My throat burned. I didn't like the messages before mine. As I sent a text to two of the reunion organizers who were probably herding classmates toward a parade float, I prayed that Jimmie was there with them. That I'd misunderstood the messages.

He wasn't.

Then I received messages from other classmates asking if I'd seen his wall and wondered the same as I.  We watched Facebook. Eventually, someone posted that he'd been in an accident that morning and had not made it.  I deleted my birthday wish and added a comment of condolences instead.

And cried.

I went to school with nice people, and we lost another one. Jimmie's smile, and orneriness, and energy will forever be a part of my memories and my life. Thank you for that, Jimmie.

And thank you to my classmates for being such a fun and loving group through the years.  Thank you for your heart.

This photo was all over Facebook. I'll give photo credit when someone fesses up.

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.

The Magic of Independence

The instant I placed a tiara on Alexandra's head, Max was awestruck. "Ooooh. She needs a magic wand. She's a magical princess!"

He was a police man. In a construction hat. While I hunted for a wand, his plans for capturing trolls flowed quickly. He declared he would identify the bad trolls so Alexandra could capture them with her magic.

When we arrived at our playdate, she proved she had other plans.

She acquired a cool car...

 

...that she borrowed from her cute sidekick...

 

 ...and then she donned a mask.

Apparently, she was a super magical princess.

I like that she didn't let us define her. May she always be so brave.

Keeping it real: Even a super magical princess has to hydrate

Friday Favorite: Dr. Seuss Week

Why can't every week be Dr. Seuss Week?

Max's Super Teachers planned an entire week of fun with the kids.

They even had a party.

I need one of these streamers in my house

 Guess who arrived in time to GET TO READ  Green Eggs and Ham to the class? 

Me. That's right. I did!

Reading to kids is one of my favorite things to do.

I still haven't calmed down from the adrenalin rush.

Max helps his grandparents with their chickens, so my clever mom sent green eggs to school for his teachers.  Some of their hens actually lay GREEN EGGS.

Green eggs to go with our little ham

The Super Teachers showed the kids the green eggs and had them guess if they'd be green inside or not.  (Max kind of ruined the surprise on that one. ) Then, each child cracked his or her own egg and added food coloring and they cooked it right there.

Max making green eggs with Super Teacher 1 and Super Teacher 2

The kids had a feast fit for Whoville with bright red strawberries, green eggs and ham, and a goldfish bowl filled with colored Goldfish--complete with a fish net for scooping!

I'm at the Target Dollar Spot so often my ghost will probably haunt it. I had a stash of Seuss stuff just waiting to be used, and Max's Super Teachers gave us the perfect opportunity to gift them.  We filled them with buttons, markers, and pads.  Each child should have had something representing at least four different books. 

 

Why am I such a Seuss nut?

The public library of my childhood was a beautiful old building with a stained glass skylight and strong wooden tables.  I can still smell its wonderful combination of mustiness and books. A sturdy oak bench lined the edge of the children's section.  I knew that area well.  It was where I first realized I could read.

Sitting cross-legged on the edge of the rug in front of the collection of Dr. Seuss books, I realized I was reading the words--not reciting them from memory. I flipped the pages back and forth and mixed it up to be sure.

The moment was magical.

Which is why I love Dr. Seuss and think it is appropriate that schools dedicate a day or entire week to the author and his books.

If you're looking for some easy activities and snacks to enjoy with your little Whos with stuff you probably already have at home, check out my mini Seuss roundup of ideas.

The Cat in the Hat
Snack: Fruity Thing One and Thing Two
Activity: Clean room before Mom comes home.  (Yeah, like that's going to happen.)
For real activity: Check out the hand print art from above. I'm going to try it with Little Sister and frame my Thing 1 and Thing 2 to put in our Seuss playroom.

Green Eggs and Ham
Snack: The most simple snack is use food coloring to dye a scrambled egg or deviled eggs with a ham sandwich, but a sweeter idea is From Mrs. Lirette's Learning Detectives: Green Pudding and Vanilla Wafer make an "egg"
Activity: Try something new. Anything!

One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish
Snack: Colored goldfish.
Activity: From Oopsey Daisey: Count and sort before eating them. If you want to get fancy, print off these chart.

The Foot Book
Snack: Try a Fruit by the Foot snack from the grocery store.
Activity: From Mom to 2 Posh Lil Divas; Trace or paint your child's feet.  Label left and right. Play games like Hokey Pokey and Twister so kiddo can practice left and right.

The Sneetches
Snack: Make sandwiches or cheese slices and cut a star out of the center. Cut up pineapple or cheese in star shapes.
Activity: Also from Oopsey Daisey: Play Musical Chairs but have students stand on stars. Make one a different color. Whoever lands on it, is out. or you can cut out stars and from I Can Teach My Child: Play a variation on Simon Says.

This link has a whole bunch of Seuss Videos to watch. 

And, of course, Pinterest has a smorgasbord of ideas for anyone who wants to put in a bit more effort or just peruse the eye candy of all that is Seussical. Click here for a link to Seuss boards on Pinterest.

And after you do these activities and the week has gone by, remember the good doctor's own words:

"Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened."

Pecking Order is for the Birds

Flocks of hens have one chicken in charge. When two flocks combine, they fight.  This is where the term "pecking order" originated.

Papa was concerned about his smallest hen from the old flock when he saw it fighting with the largest one in the new one.  He even rescued the little bird. Ultimately, he decided to let nature take its course.

The fight began again, and he learned something.

The little hen attacked the big one.

That fearless fowl jumped up and dangled from the others ears until it was tired. It nestled under the larger hens wings in bird-brained guerrilla warfare. Rested, it clamped onto the big wattle with its beak.

Later, Papa discovered the little hen bullying the second largest hen. Eventually, they established their pecking order with the smallest one in the hen house being in charge.

We've had a similar experience in our home recently.

Alexandra flung a place mat on the floor and refused to pick it up. Instead, she wanted me to pick her up.  She cried. She hung on my leg. It was pathetic.  I almost rescued her until she finally gave in and handed it to me.

Pecking order restored. 

I think.

A few days later, she pulled me out of my chair and came after me with an inflatable light saber.

"Tzzz. Tzzz. Tzzz."

She's never seen Star Wars, but the Force is strong in that one. 

Might I add that my son had drawn whiskers and a cat nose on my face at this point in the day? Don't judge me.  It filled time and was easier than telling them to stay out of my makeup.

Yeah, it's pretty clear where I am in the pecking order around here.

Jingle Jangle

I'm not athletic or crafty, but that doesn't keep me from trying.  On the way to a 5k, I sewed ribbons on shirts.

See that ribbon? I sewed it. My son was impressed.

My friends Ange and Shannon invited us to join them at the Jingle Bell Run.  Well, they knew I wouldn't actually run, so Ange volunteered to walk with me.

But I did run--three times--during the 5K.  That's a personal record that provides bragging rights.

My pals still make fun of my attempt in high school to run a 5k for extra credit. OH MY GOODNESS. And no witness can forget the hilarious ONE DAY in the spring I went out for track. (In my defense, the boys and girls were both state champions, runners-up, gods straight from Mt. Olympus or something that year).

I don't have a good track record.

So, I'd planned to train for this event, but...I didn't.

My training buddy and I still have not met and my treadmill is used by my hubby, who WON a 5k last week, by the way.

That's Ange, Shannon, and Garrett holding me up before the race (and mimosas).

I may not be cardio-fit, but at least I'm festive.

Shirts personalized at Society Shirts. Proceeds provide birthday parties for children in emergency foster care.

Our shirts supposedly say Super Cutie or Awesome Hottie or something similar in Cherokee.  Garrett suspects Ange and Shannon tricked us and they really say World's Greatest Grandpa.
 
 

Bedlam, Baby!

If you are a college football fan, you may have heard of a little game we Okies call Bedlam.

Garrett and I rarely get a date, so the fact that we had an entire day together was an exciting prospect. Spending it on the campus where we met almost nineteen years ago was rather romantic.  The stadium was packed, the game was tremendous, and the University of Oklahoma won in overtime. Bonus fun!

Don't let me mislead you. I am not what you'd call a football fan. People stopped inviting us to Superbowl parties years ago. This weekend I had a revelation. I realized when the love was lost.

In high school I was a cheerleader. The news stations came to our games and recorded our pep assemblies.  Red and black was everywhere because school spirit was contagious.  It was easy to be a fan then. Our teams won. All the time.  My little high school had impressive athletes. Games were a blast. I grew up thinking that sports were always like Switzer's Sooners and my hometown Bulldogs. If my school didn't win the championship each year in basketball, football, track or whatever, we held our own in the finals.

As a little girl, I thought that being a Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader was a reasonable and attainable career choice.

After attending OU, of course.  I'd heard you could learn things besides football there.

Then I went to OU...during the early nineties.  Football fans, you may recall this as the dark ages.  Coach Schnellenberger. Coach Blake. Just thinking about it makes me frown.

After one of the first home games, I remember refusing to leave the student section when everyone else had gone home.  Hot sun reflected off the empty bleachers surrounding me. I was going to be a real fan and stand by my team. Sweat poured down my face and back, but no one was around to see it.  I stuck it out until the fourth quarter, then I left, too. It's not like anyone was there to see me leave.  It was like our team had never shown up in the first place. The score was demoralizing.

It was that moment when I defected.

College can be confusing for many reasons. It's a time people reinvent themselves, lose themselves, renew themselves, etc.  But if this small town Oklahoma girl didn't even have a football team that was good, what was I to hold onto? How could I have school spirit?

After that, the madness that hit campus every game day surprised me.  What was the big deal? Didn't these people realize it was just football? College campuses were supposed to house smart people. Didn't they realize in a few hours they were going to be upset at their "victory" parties because our team was awful? What was with all the pomp and circumstance? How long could a team--no, an entire school--live on their laurels?

For some reason, yesterday gave me perspective and made me get it.

My son has attended several games with his dad and papa.

at his first OU game holding his first football

 He wanted to go yesterday, too, but nobly told me I would have a good time in his place. He filled me in on details an experienced OU fan could impart to his mother.

"The guns are loud. I don't like that," he said.

Then he told me what he did enjoy. "I like it when the whores run on the field."

I'm pretty sure he meant the horses and the Sooner Schooner.

He also told me "tailgating is the best part."

Tailgating. When friends--old and new--gather together over food and drinks and share a common bond. Everyone is drenched in crimson and creme. The air is electric with excitement. Generations of people fill the campus.

As The Pride's baton twirler artfully tossed flaming sticks into the air, I thought about my Max and his wise words.
Maybe game day isn't about football after all. Maybe it's about being a part of a community. Sharing fun. Reliving memories and creating new ones.

This must be what the Grinch felt like when his heart grew three sizes in one day. With the help of his dog Max, the Grinch took their Christmas presents, but the Whos celebrated anyway.

Even in the dark ages of football, OU fans gathered together for a common purpose.

Wow. I get it.

Of course, it didn't hurt that we won the game.  Boomer Sooner!  

Maxisms

Our week was full of Maxisms. Here are a few:

Monday:
The boy child had been ornery all day. Frustrated, I asked, "Who are you?"
He said, "Maximus the Magnificent."
Hmmm. I'm sure this all might be connected.

Tuesday:
Max: Did you see Miss Bri's dress? It was pretty, pretty, pretty.
Me: Did you tell her?
Max: NO! (grinning and nodding knowingly) I want it to be a surprise.

Saturday: 
Max: EW! What's that smell?
Me: Steamed broccoli.
Max: It smells like Elmo poop.

Sunday:
Max: Mom, you're a princess. I'm going to buy you a crown.  A crown you put on your head, not the kind you draw with.
Me: (privately to confused hubby) Crayon. He's speaking with an accent.

Magic Monday: SUP Yoga

Downward Dog on H2O

Nothing takes my breath away quite like that first day of the season on the water.  Green hills surround Lake Tenkiller. The fish jump and splash.  An occasional bald eagle soars overhead. All combine to promote a calm in me like nothing else can.

At least I thought so until yesterday.

I PRACTICED YOGA

ON THE WATER

IN THE MIDDLE OF THE LAKE.

Doesn't that just make you squeal with giddiness? I certainly did.

No one did this move in my class. Maybe next time!

The class did not disappoint. The 68 degree morning temp made me nervous, but the water was warm. We stood on surf board-ish boats and paddled around. Then we practiced yoga.  Sure, absolutely everyone in the class fell off the board--even the instructor--but that just means we were having the full experience.

Huffington Post says it's the latest trend.

What do you think?  Wanna try? 


**I lifted these pics from instructor Heather Ezell's Facebook page.  Contact her to schedule a class.

Mommy Monday: Teaching empathy

Max: There's a bad cat at the door...will you cook it for me?
Me: No.
Max: Why?
Max's dad: We don't do that in our country.
Max: Why?
Me: Same reason we don't eat horses. We don't eat our pets.
Max: (pauses) It's somebody else's pet.

Magic Mommy Monday: Olympic Celebrations

I love the Olympics.

As a kid, my mom called us inside from playing to watch Mary Lou Retton and Greg Luganis go for the gold.

The Olympics introduced a magical idea:  Maybe I could achieve greatness, too.

I wanted to recreate this excitement and inspiration for my kids.

What better way to fulfill this fantasy than have an Olympic playdate?
Filled with patriotism and determination, I searched the internet for ideas.

My friend Jennifer Laws is a superstar party planner. (With three kids all under four, I'd say she deserves a medal.) Here's a clip of her party plans as shown on the local news:

News9.com - Oklahoma City, OK - News, Weather, Video and Sports |


Here's her Pinterest page on the topic.


Yeah, well...there's the fantasy.

And then there's my reality.

Construction paper crafts helped fill days that were too hot to play outside.

We hung Olympic rings from the chandeliers.

Relay batons made from paper towel rolls and construction paper

found a way to incorporate water guns

We were ready to inspire those kids!

We kicked off our playgroup with a relay of passing the torch. I could show you the video, but it's just embarrassing. 

Apparently, my foil roll and tissue paper torch was unimpressive.

The day went pretty much downhill from there.

The children were too hot to run and jump the pool noodle hurtles painstakingly stuck in the drought-dry dirt with chopsticks. (Knocking them over was my son's favorite part. Seriously. He just told me.)

The signs stuck on the fence announcing the events blew off. A new Olympic event was created called Find the Push Pins with Your Hands Instead of Your Bare Feet.

One little boy decided it was too hot for this outside nonsense. Smart kid. He sat on the sofa and waited patiently for the rest of us to come to our senses.

Inside, the boys' eyes sparked with interest when I explained that the javelin toss was really like a warrior's spear. They threw pool noodles through hula hoops with great success.

The kids had a great day playing non-Olympic games and acted happy when they took home medals and toilet paper roll torches.

I couldn't find Olympic ring stickers, so we colored those circle tabs found in the office supply section.

 Later, I made a balance beam for my kids with painter's tape. 

Pretty good for not being able to walk

He's a contender!

Did we inspire the kids? Doubt it.  The Olympics really does that all by itself.

They find their own heroes.

Max is almost four.  He loves girls' gymnastics and girls' diving. As long as the temperatures don't plummet so that the girls wear more clothes than a bikini, he's a huge beach volleyball fan.

For now, the baby claps for everyone.

The swimmers impress the whole family. They're all incredible, but, I mean...Michael Phelps is...wow. My kids can tell their kids they watched an Olympian earn more medals than anyone ever.

All the Olympians, win or lose, are champions because they do their best.

Even a mom in Oklahoma can identify with that.

Does Marcellus Wallace shop at Target?

Failing to ensure all of the doors were closed, we locked the car and went shopping. Upon our return, the back door was still ajar.

No, not ajar. Wide open.

In addition to many other kid related items--we really need to clean the car--the following objects were as we left them:

• Starbucks gift card in front cup holder
• iPad in driver's side door 
• Assorted DVDs in back floor board
• DVD player attached to back of front passenger's seat

The door touched the cart return, so everyone who parked in our row and were good citizens who didn't leave the shopping carts in the middle of the parking lot witnessed the vulnerability of our car. But no sticky fingers took anything.

I'd like to think the lack of theft is a commentary on society.

(insert rainbows and sunshine here)

Listen up! There really are good people in the world who don't take easy opportunities.

And they shop at Target.

Of course...

...it could be a commentary that people suspected no one could be stupid enough to leave their doors open with valuables inside unless he or she was Pulp Fiction crazy and not to be messed with.

Either way, I'm grateful.

Tasty Tuesday: Tiffany's Chicken

Families who have healthy, home-cooked meals are marvels. Perhaps they possess some gene I lack. More likely...they know magic.

So, today's entry is my second attempt at helping other mere humans prepare a super easy entree. Don't forget to read my Magical Meal Suggestion for rounding out the meal. If you're like me, you don't have time to let something like cooking sap your creative juices.

My friend's recipe is known as "Tiffany's Chicken" at our house. As a mom of four and first lady of People's Church in OKC, Tiffany Cooper knows about feeding a family on the run.



Tiffany's Chicken
chicken breasts
can (or 2) of black beans
jar of salsa

Dump can of black beans over chicken breasts. Pour jar of salsa on top.

Bake at 400 degrees for 1 hour.

I used two cans of beans in this picture because we like the extra.

Complete Magical Meal Suggestion
Serve with twist of lime, brown rice, and avocado slices. Good with mixed berries on the side. Add tortilla chips or cornbread if you feel like it.

If you don't think it looks good, don't worry! My husband claims that some of my ugliest entrees taste the best.  That's a compliment, right?

This meal is so easy, I always think I forgot something.

Maybe it's the margarita?

Enjoy!


If you missed the first Tasty Tuesday, check out the recipe for Pinterest Chicken.

Alexandra's World vs. Christina's World

Alexandra experience grass for the first time recently. After luxuriating in the texture, she looked longingly at her brother, scampering about the lawn.

 

 Andrew Wyeth's Christina's World immediately came to mind.

Christina's World is in the style of magic realism. Something about my kids that day made me feel they were, too.