A Tale of Two Mommies

…because more seems excessive…

Tag Archives: chocolate

Life as Pictures…miscellaneous edition

 

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I’m a haphazard tower builder. Mr. Man has his ideals for structures, and fortunately they are relatively compatible with my general building capability. My husband has these complicated, remarkable pursuits. I just stack shit on top of the other, and hope it stands…at least for a few moments before they crumble into child oblivion. Little Man’s latest designs are building the above “garages with houses” while Warrior Queen contributes by randomly piling whatever bricks are in front of her. Big brother watches his little sister’s efforts to add to his pride without batting an eye; I kinda love that about him. And, how can I forget him carefully placing the remaining bricks filed tightly together on the end to “keep the chickens from entering the garden?” I can’t really blame him. Chickens are horribly scary creatures. In the event of an apocalypse, those sketchy bastards will be leading the charge with the cockroaches and politicians.

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I enjoy cooking, but I reserve special treats for when my husband is out of town. It isn’t all that dramatic when he is gone, but I miss him. If I have the wherewithal to plan, I try to find certain things that I can look forward to…something special…usually food related, but not always. These mini quiche muffins are on my fairly lengthy list of favorites, but I hardly am able to indulge because the children pilfer them whenever there is a whiff of the container in the open.

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Easiest pumpkin muffin recipe ever. I’m not a baker, so adding a can of pumpkin to a box of spice or carrot cake mix is about all I can handle…

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The carnage of a mandatory home day…the poor bastards didn’t stand a chance. The children were merciless, and I’m still a little traumatized.

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Happy place…happy place…My children swinging from the chandeliers shrieking their battle cries as they hurl their wincingly pliable bodies onto the sofa cushions that littered the entirety of any exposed flooring. BUT, I have my stash, so bedlam be damned, and you can bet your ass I’m not sharing! I’ll laugh maniacally in their faces as I enjoy every morsel…Okay, maybe not in their faces…I’ll cower in the bathroom like all normal and rational people to avoid the conflict.

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It isn’t always about the chocolate stash when I’m teetering on the edge of losing whatever minuscule cool I’ve managed to retain since having children. I’m also growing my second afghan in painful contributions using the yarn stash my husband spent years nagging me to toss. The first afghan will soon go to Warrior Queen, and it is quite lovely. I’m not sure where this one is headed.

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We aren’t remotely religious, but the menorah candle lighting was the most successful aspect of our Hanukkah festivities this year. I want to always remember Mr. Man launching himself out of his nap to tend to the candles.

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If I’m honest, these latka beauties are my favorite part of the holiday which are a healthier version of the original…because potatoes…

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This sweater doesn’t have anything to do with anything other than it simply exists. Nothing pleases me more than to live in a time and place where seven-year-olds in a country across the planet work to create this number that I would never think of wearing, but I’m sure someone could pull it off who is significantly more fun than I. In the meantime, I’ll be in the bathroom progressively nibbling the chocolate stash I’ve cultivated over the past couple of weeks.

 

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It isn’t just about the mashed potatoes…and gravy…

Many heart wrenching, worrying things I share with the majority of Americans; but much tickles my heart and warms me despite future uncertainty. I’m thankful and privileged to see such strength, determination, and love following the loop hole allowing a disgusting individual and his counterparts to represent the best of us. Unending gratitude social media exists to make me laugh despite the serious nature of what will transpire.

I’m grateful for Rachel Maddow. I’m grateful for John Oliver and Impractical Jokers.

I’m thankful my gray hair that is prospering in droves doesn’t look horrible. Its proliferation is uncertain, but I’ve always found the salt and pepper look attractive…Here’s hoping the same will hold true for me…in six months at this rate.

Unending appreciation that the almost 102 fever I had on Thanksgiving was short lived, and was not fortified by a nose cold. My husband is fighting something. I hope that bit of lovely decides I’m not a hospitable homestead.

I’m thankful my father-in-law saw fit to buy me a bar of one of my favorite brands of chocolate. It’s the dark variety too, so I feel the depth of his love for me. He is now my favorite person in the world…until someone else buys me chocolate, creating a more contemporary warmth in my thoughts.

I’m blessed to have found a less tedious pumpkin pie-like recipe. It was mighty tasty…especially as my breakfast yesterday…and this morning. It’s about time for a second helping. I’m thankful it occurred to me to buy extra whipped topping. In that same vein, profuse gratitude to my friend who made a chocolate cream pie to add to the Thanksgiving meal festivities. Pudding or not, it was chocolate and phenomenal…and was a welcomed breakfast addition to the pumpkin pie I ate yesterday.

My toddler hasn’t napped in two days, consequently has been a disaster for the second half of the day, stretching into the evening. Having family staying with us and generally surrounding him has my son elated in a vibrating giggle beginning at six sharp in the morning. We hear Little Man emerge from his room with the tell tale jingle from his horrid stuffed dog. Within seconds the sound becomes a scurry into our room. An enthusiastic, “hi,” with other random commentary before turning on our bright overhead light. If I’m honest, it is quite possibly the cutest wake-up call ever…I’m thankful I haven’t killed him…yet.

Warrior Queen has made every effort to crawl back into my uterus. I don’t know what happened, but she decided that anyone other than me holding her will not be the game plan for the day. What gets me is that she will be fine until she catches my gaze. Then the slow abhorrence of her situation consumes her face. That said, I’m thankful I’m too tired to be much bothered as the shrill wailing commences…for a few minutes anyway. At some point dogs will start circling, so I have to give in. At seven-months she mostly is all smiles, and I cannot measure my gratitude to be the recipient of some so grand that her whole face is enveloped.

I’m thankful for leggings, which look surprisingly acceptable under dresses. I don’t have it in me to wrangle stockings or tights, and it’s getting cold. Additionally, I’m thankful for flannel shirts. They are an easy way to add color and pattern to my otherwise black wardrobe. I get that black is sexy and all, and it certainly looks good on me, but I don’t quite pull-off Morticia…with gray-ing hair.

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(I could fall asleep on that chair.)

That said, I pretty much nail the pasty look, and I don’t even need powder.

A final thanks to my husband who took our 2.7 year-old on an outing with his family, so I can rest. My fierce girl is sleeping in our office. I’m soaking in the brief quiet watching a knit/crochet program on television. The second pie helping was wonderful, as were the mashed potatoes and gravy. Sometimes I wish I could predict the future. I’ve never liked surprises, and these days I’d prefer to brace myself. But, while bad days loom, so do the good ones, and for that I am most thankful.

 

 

Cause for Celebration

Make no mistake, I still feel a nonspecific yuckiness, and will continue to feel out of sorts until I get a handle on things and recover from the grief that my body decided this pregnancy would require a little more TLC than I’d like.  But, I’m thankful I did not keep this news to myself, reminded of the wonderful support of new friendships I’ve formed since the birth of my son.  But, the pivotal rebound can be credited to a very close friend of many years who has an uncanny natural ability to talk me down from a ledge.

Some days have passed; I can’t remember how many exactly, but it isn’t as many as it seems.  Perhaps it’s best to say hours at this point.  As I trudge through the beginning of an uncertain process, I’ve embraced all the necessary things that will help me grapple all the stuff that piled in a week’s time:

  1. Sugar free chocolate isn’t bad, and I’ll have the extra benefit of not encountering constipation for the remaining two months or so of my pregnancy.  I realize, however, that I will need a contingency plan as to prevent adding artificial sweeteners as a superfluous food group.  I plan to explore “no sugar added” products.  Cookies are a solid second to chocolate…
  2. Not an ongoing habit, but it certainly helped me yesterday:  bacon.  Bacon makes everything better, and when you add avocado to your BLT on a wheat wrap, then, my friends, hope there is no remaining spring mix in your teeth as you present your coy smile to onlookers viewing an orgasmic reaction worthy of Meg Ryan.
  3. Considering further the commitment to consistent sugar level testing, I figured after spending a couple of months puncturing my skin seven times a day, I will be that much closer to building the courage to obtain that amazing tattoo I never thought I wanted.

So, it’s the beginning of a new week, and likely containing my first appointment in the abyss…  I always enjoyed spelunking.  Enjoy always will be an excessive term with this situation, but I will tolerate it by ensuring I maintain a steady supply of cookies with the occasional Russell Stover assortment.

Ode to Thanks

I’m thankful for chocolate…dark chocolate, but not dark chocolate more than seventy percent.  If I wanted to have no sugar with my sugar, I’d buy a bar of baker’s chocolate…It’s cheaper.  I’m thankful for dark chocolate with nuts that are chopped up in it.  Truffles are good too.  Lindt is probably the best, but some of those generics are mighty fine…  I’m thankful for everyone in my life who grasped my subtle inclinations toward this treat, and use it as an easy gift that I will ALWAYS appreciate.

I’m thankful for tea, and my husband who showed me the delights of adding skim milk to my hot tea experience.  I’m thankful for those times when we drink it together, especially sitting on a cruise ship deck looking out on the ocean.  It’s been almost a year since the last time, but one day we will do it again, knowing the happiness of bringing our expanded family.  It will be like our first cruise together, everything new and exciting.

I’m thankful for time…long, tedious, endless time that can be insufferable in the ticking moments, but I cling to them like the covers my husband hordes in the middle of the night.

I’m thankful for change, daunting and unpredictable, but relentless and dependable.  Sometimes its inevitability allows me to hold on even if I don’t know where the shift will take me.

I’m thankful for new friends, and the old ones I now take the time to connect with on a reasonably regular basis despite busy lives.  I’m thankful that it occurs to me to take unbegrudged initiation while simultaneously maintaining the confidence that they think of me too and appreciate my organizational drive of pursuit.  I am thankful for my friends whose strength of character keep them with me even through their great struggles.  I appreciate every day I can still hear from them, and hope the next year brings about easier times they deserve.

I’m thankful for my Kindle, the passport to endless realities and stories while I paddle in stationary bobbing most mornings before the sun awakens for the day.  I’m thankful to be witness to the blue glow as the sun rises, filling the room like black light at the horrible college parties I used to attend.

Perhaps trite, but I’m thankful to have my partner in life and the only person worth arguing with over incredibly stupid issues that we both realize are stupid, but feel the urge to argue about them anyway.  I know you read this, and I’m telling you the random paper towel sheets appearing mysteriously on the counter most mornings aren’t left by me.  Ten years later there is no one else I’d rather have be where I need to be.

I’m thankful for family, all of them.  Through times of strain and times of harmony it’s always a blessing, perhaps because there are so few of us in touch.  My stories aren’t as enriching without the people in them, and I value every moment I can still make a call to hear of whatever antics might be in play in that particular moment.  I’m thankful my children will grow to know all of these players with the capacity to fondly reminisce when the presence of some are no more.  This excludes my mother.  She will live for forever; I’m certain of it.

This blog is my ongoing gratitude for my current and future children.

I’m thankful for screaming goat YouTube videos, and those hilarious eCards I can read on Pinterest.  I’m thankful for hot showers.  I’m thankful for bulky yarn eternity scarves that look perfect every time I throw one on, and the variety of cardigans that I impulsively collect.  I’m thankful for real scratch mashed potatoes with its skin included and turkey gravy.  I’m thankful for grilled cheese…or just cheese, really…and bacon…Bacon is how I know there is still good in the world despite the atrocities that bombard the vacant spaces of life.

I’m thankful for opportunities, whatever they may be.  Finally, I’m thankful for cool, crisp days to walk and think about them; to think about what was, is, and will be.

 

 

The Origins of Great Ventures

Every mother, neigh, every parent agrees on the greatest time of day…every day.  In fact, I predict any parent reading this post can already anticipate with complete accuracy that I am speaking of the hallowed nap time.  So sacred in every aspect, and always too short…even if it lasted twelve hours.

If I happen to be home for the entire day, sometimes I feel as though I wait for those blessed signs that my son is about to pass out from exhaustion.  I couldn’t describe the signs, for as a Mommy I am anointed with the vision of sleep whisperer.  How many times in his brief eighteen-months of external existence have I said to a peer or family member, “He’s tired,” met with the disbelieving grunt of a, “Really?”  Oh, yes, I can feel his sleepiness like a disruption in the force…kind of like a soiled diaper, but that, my friends, is for another post.  Sometimes I wonder if it makes me a terrible person that I take such glee from those initial moments of realization that Little Man is ready for sleepy time.

Then there are those first steps walking away from the closed door of my son’s room…OOO…What to do first?  Should I be productive, and actually clean the house?  Perhaps return calls and pay bills?  Maybe I’ll even complete another round of exercise while reading a couple more chapters in one of my books, followed by a lengthy shower.  But, these days Mr. Man’s naps have transitioned to once a day, and the break is a cruel tease of an hour.  So, what do I do with my precious hour?  I nurture my brain with another episode of Blue Bloods because there is always limited smut to watch on television when I actually have the opportunity to do so, and, of course, a helping of chocolate my son never lets me eat.  But, if I’m completely honest, I’ve never truly seen nap time as an opportunity to get things accomplished; instead, it is a time for me to sit back, eat something, and remind myself that having a child was a good idea.

February is the best month of the year…

My son is a two-foot-tall gremlin when it comes to chocolate, as evidenced by his first bonafide tantrum that is certain to be foreshadowing for his second year.  At fifteen months he most definitely understands quite a bit more than I would expect him to, and I’m convinced most of the time he pretends that I’m speaking some archaic language that only imbeciles utter just so he has an excuse to ignore me.

It began as an afternoon like any other.  My son was staggering around our family room aimlessly before taking a sharp turn past our sofa and proceeded to pound on our pantry door.  I could be mistaken, but I’m fairly certain he was not in search of the canned goods and grits we house behind the door.  I recognized his emotional rendering of need, for if I too did not have the ability to manipulate door knobs keeping me from a tasty bag of chocolate, I would have the very same reaction.  I give him a definitive negation thereby thwarting his plans.  What began as a gentle cry of disbelief quickly transformed into an impressive full-out wail of sorrow and despair at my cruelty.  I walked away, and he followed me into every downstairs room before I attempted distraction with a book and puzzle.

The technique worked until I glanced in the general vicinity of the pantry, to which I was greeted with the shrieks of a boy whose manhood has not yet dropped.  Even after the ringing in my ears subsided, I’m fairly certain I can no longer hear certain octaves.  With jerky movements of a poorly executed zombie flick, he returned to the pantry door.  You’ve got to be kidding me!  But, the prize goes to me, as my will is stronger than a fifteen-month-old chocoholic, so perhaps we will both survive until his next birthday.

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