The Other Foot.

The other day while catching up with an old friend, amidst gushing about how-freaking-good life has been to me lately, I absentmindedly mentioned that "it almost makes me wonder when the other foot is going to drop". I am a typically optimistic person, yet I have found that in times of great inner calm and great happiness, there is often a bit of me that braces myself for a cyclical life, a bit of me that is familiar with the phrase "all good things must come to an end". But then my phone lit up with a text in response: Maybe it already has.

Those four words flooded me with a new perspective. Maybe life isn't cyclical. Maybe all good things must not necessarily come to an end. Maybe it's "safe" to whole-heartedly enjoy and embrace the good. And hell, maybe it HAS already dropped. 

My first spring robin showed up last week. He was beautiful and brave and regarded me as I snapped photos and video of him with giddy fervor. 

I've been so excited to write this post, to have a chance to linger over the memories of this past week, because it has been just that wonderful. Working night shift can really mess with a person's sleep schedule. I have trouble going to bed early and therefore trouble waking up early. After a while that is SO taxing, especially with two sweet little girls who have to wake mama out of her stupor and isn't very functional before 11am. So last week I decided to grab the bull by the horns and MAKE myself go to bed before the ripe hour of 3am, and to MAKE myself wake up first. 

I've been seeing a lot of 6:30am these days. It has been such a therapuetic experience, just standing there in my kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil while watching the sun ease itself above the horizon to wish me good morning. To snuggle up in my robe and sip my tea while scrolling through seven years worth of family photos. And it allows me time to wake up enough before my little sprites do so that when they do, I am fully energized and ready to be the mama they deserve. The kind of mama that makes home made bread. 

The kind of mama who has the patience to let them help. 

As the daughter of a woman who made bread from scratch every week, I can tell you first hand, there are few things as outrageously fun as a kid than having your mom give you permission to punch the crap out of a plump, fluffy, powdery hunk of dough. My kids were not immune to my cool-mom wiles and were delighted by the whole experience. I believe this will become a regular thing in our household. 

I've been very introspective this week. I've been quietly observing my little family and the way we interact with one another, the way we know and understand each other unlike anyone else knows and understands us. The amazing thing about having children is that while we are each unique and separate, when we come together, we are a singular entity with it's own pulse, it's own aura. We know each others quirks. We all know that Scarlett is whiney, Cecilia does whatever she damn-well pleases, Daddy gets moody, Mommy sleeps a lot. We also know that Scarlett has a sixth sense for a person's mood and strives to make them happy, Cecilia has an amazing sense of humor, Daddy keeps us doing fun and interesting things together, and Mommy keeps the peace. We know these things about each other and we all work together remarkably well.

This weekend was filled with lots of family time. I did crafts with the kids, we had dinner out the four of us, we ran simple errands together, and on Friday when the day was done and the kids were (finally!) tucked in bed at - eek! - 11pm, Scot and I organically fell into our bar stools at the kitchen counter and began feasting on chocolates, cheese, home made bread with Sand Castle's Tuscan Herb olive oil (ohmygodguys, TRY THIS! Perfect for bread-dipping delight. ) and wine, of course. 

We just sat and talked and ate and sipped and laughed, and reminisced for the next hour or so before we tucked ourselves in bed. It was the epitome of a low-key, relaxing evening. It was so enjoyable that we found ourselves the same place, same time the next night for Round 2. 

Sunday night Scot and I decided to go our respective ways - he on his computer programming away happily, and I deeply engrossed in the latest episode of Grey's Anatomy (seriously guys, I *know* it's just a glorified soap opera, but I freaking love.that.show!) when Scot plopped down next to me with his laptop, put some headphones on my ears, pressed "play" and smiled at me. This is what I heard. 

I know. I was crying by the end of the first line of lyrics. 

For those of you may not know, my husband and I were married at 18 and in our nearly-seven-years of marriage, we have hit more than a little turbulance. Separated for a summer, in the process of filing for divorce, custody battles at the forefront of both our minds, we both caught a glimpse of each other again... We decided, what if things just suck for a while? What if we stay together anyway? What if we wait this suckiness out? That was almost two years ago.

I can tell you right now: It did suck for a while. I know there were moments we both questioned our choice to stay. But I also know that next to marrying the guy in the first place, sticking with him is easily the best choice I've ever made. It didn't happen over night, but one day I realized the tension was gone and all that stood in it's place was an intense love only heightened by the storms we have weathered together. He is my team-mate, my best friend, my inspiration. He is my one true North. I love him :) 

And with that lingering bit of Valentines Day mush, I will bid you farewell. Until next time...

<3
T

Our Christmas Season in Pictures...

I worked 12 hours last night and my head is still in a bit of a fog since I didn't get much sleep today, but this blog has been beckoning me. And I did finally download all of those pictures I'd been socking away on my camera. So I figured I'd share the bits of our Christmas season that I managed to capture on camera.

I made home-made butternut squash gnocchi. 

Let me just say, something about baking butternut squash feels incredibly wholesome and homey. I felt a little bit like I was in a Laura Engles Wilder novel, dutifully providing a hearty meal for my brood. Or something like that. Oh, and it smells divine. 

Still steamy! 

Puree that bad boy in your food processor until it looks almost like soup. 

Oh, and be warned: This dough is not your average dough. It's ridiculously sticky. I must've added like 5x the amount of flour this recipe called for and it still was congealed to my hands in ways I've never had dough congealed before. Eventually I decided to just ROLL with in (heh, get it?) and it was fine. Just patt the surface area down good with flour (but not mixing it through out - or else, like I said - you can keep adding flour til kingdom come) and you're set for rolling and slicing. 

Boil it up!

I feel compelled to disclose: That hairy arm right there? Not mine. After a pitiful number of hours in the kitchen, my dear husband pitched in to support the cause. 

If there's one thing I love more than asparagus... 

...It's asparagus in a lemon cream sauce! 

Ta da!!! The finished product!

Now... While this gnocchi recipe was very fun to make, made me feel like my culinary prowess was kicked up one really hefty notch, and was super tasty... It was NOT 5-hours-in-the-kitchen tasty... Which, I'm embarrassed to say, is exactly how long this meal took to prepare. I'm not the fastest chef, but even with that taken into consideration, this was definitely more of an experimental than a staple meal. And honestly, it didn't even taste much different than store-bought potato gnocchi! It was educational though, and the possibilities of WHAT you can put in gnocchi is pretty much endless. Neat-o. 

So there was that... 

Then there was necklace making: 

There were craft-dates GALORE with this awesome chick: 

(Seriously, we just feed off of each other's psychosis for all things seasonal, holiday, traditional, or creative. It's a beautiful thing.) 

(I weirdly don't have a finished picture of these on my camera... Must be on my phone! Oops!)

We dropped a line to Mr. Claus: 

We fashioned some rain snow-makers. 

I made, for my first time ever, cake balls! Which, it is bittersweet to say, are dangerously easy to make... And even easier to make go away! 

I also managed to (FINALLY!) craft this impish little elf, Penelope. I know that Elf on the Shelf is all the rage lately, but I'm proud to say that I had an elf BEFORE the days of elf on the shelf. My mom was just super ahead of the times like that. She made an elf that would arrive every year while we were out getting our Christmas tree, who mysteriously moved to all sorts of zany spots in our home during the holiday season, and then hitched a ride home with the big guy in red Christmas night. I believed in this elf longer than I believed in SANTA, that's how legit he was. I always knew I would make one for my kids some day. And there was an attempt about three years ago which resulted in a clownish and frightning figure with an over-stuffed suit, a freakishly large and fuzzy puff-ball head and too-wide eyes. For fear of scarring my children forever, I spared them and trashed the poor fellow. Penelope, however, she turned out more marvelously than I anticipated she would and I have to admit... Sister's got personality. Like, I kind of wonder if maybe she's a little bit real. Just a little. Also, she digs oral care, which as an aspiring dnetal hygienist, I have to appreciate. 

Aaaaand I think that's it for now because I can't seem to find all of our Christmas morning pictures. I really need to get more organized with our media... Anyway, onward to Valentines Day AND some early party planning for mon petite poisson who will be turning FOUR late this spring/early this summer. I know. It's January. But YOU know how long it took me to get to THIS post, so... Well... Let's just say my pinterest account is getting it's fair share of attention! Can you guess what Little Miss has chosen as her birthday theme? I'll give you a hint: I often refer to Cecilia as "mon petite poisson" and at this years birthday party, it will be a very appropriate nickname! 

Happy guessing!

-T

The Rest.

You've been on my mind. "You" meaning this blog, it's readers, or perhaps just the Great Void. The point is - I have been wanting to write a post for weeks now. My camera is chalk full of stories to be told, memories to rake through carefully and reverently, the way you rake your fingers through the gossamer hair of a young, sick child. 

While I haven't had time to do the former, I have found myself doing the latter quite a lot lately. This year's cold and flu season has hit our home with vengeance. I won't bore you with the play-by-play details (like I did my very, VERY wonderful Facebook friends) but my oldest was hit hard with walking pneumonia and then an allergic reaction to her antibiotic, then I got a stomach bug, and then my youngest got the stomach bug that she is *fingers crossed* finally over. 

The whole thing crescendo'd last night with a whirlwind trip to the emergency room for my youngest who was beginning to show signs of dehydration. Thanks to some wonderful staff at her doctor's office, the hospital and a magical little pill known as Zofran, she seems to be on the mend.

What I didn't see coming was that following the frenzied crescendo of last night, would be today: The rest. 

I am in awe of today. With two small children who were born less than two years apart, it is rare that they do anything apart. While I am usually with both of them, and sometimes with neither of them, I am very, very rarely with just one of them for any stretch of time. But today my husband drove off with my healthy Scarlett to drop her off at preschool while my still-not-feeling-it Cecilia stayed home with me. Not that I don't miss the sweet, inquisitive presence of my five-year-old, but my is this nice. 

We slept in. After kissing her sister and Daddy goodbye, baby girl turned to me, speechless, and lifted her arms up to me. I gladly complied, feeling her little body mold against mine in a way that deceives me and let's me believe she's still a baby for just a little bit longer. "My belly hurts" her raspy voice whispered into my ear. We snuggled up in bed and while the snow drifted outside our window, we drifted off to sleep. At 10:30 I woke up to her face about two inches from mine as she squealed, "I'M ALL BETTER MOMMY!" 

And I think I believe her. 

We scooped up snow in a bowl and ate it. We made snowballs and threw them out the window. We played with blocks and read books. She painted and played with play dough while Sarah McLaughlin crooned away and brought me into a place of total peace. I enjoyed the feel of my hands sudsy from dish detergent, the sound of the washer and dryer whirring rhythmically behind me. My dishes are done. My bed is made. My floors are vacuumed. And I am *almost* caught up on my laundry (a huge feat given the copious number of loads required to purge our house of anything that came in contact with the devil stomach flu Cecilia caught). And all this without breaking up fights, ignoring my child, or even worse, losing my temper.
I deliriously text my husband, gushing about my love of motherhood and how wonderful it feels to be productive. He response: Lol. I think you both needed this.

Smart man. I feel like today was one gloriously long therapy session and I have purged all the sickness and stress from my home and my body.

Anyway, I am done blubbering about this wonderful place of rest. For now. And I will be back soon with pictures and with "real" posts. Promise :)

Now it's time for me to go get ready to pick up a dearly missed daughter and sister. Looking forward to coming home to a clean house where we can sit down and she can tell us all about her adventures today.

Stay healthy, stay warm, stay appreciative. 

-T

Believe in Magic

Working in a hospital changes a person. You watch life struggle to maintain it's healthy existence - and sometimes fail - on a regular basis. In my short time doing what I do, I have seen young, seemingly healthy people have their world turn topsy-turvy as they grapple with a sudden stage 4 cancer diagnosis. I have observed as a frantic woman watched her husband slip away, and then be revived again. I have seen HIV patients reach their breaking point and turn violent. I have comforted little women and men withering away in confusion, as they plead with me again to tell them who I am and why I am in their home for the dozenth time in an hour.

Most recently, I've seen the mist in a 90-year-old man's eyes as he looked me straight on, challenging and pleading with me to be a better, more attentive, more playful, more compassionate mother NOW because I have no idea how quickly this time will pass and I have no idea how hard I will try and fail to recreate this remarkable time for the rest of my life. "It's unlike anything else in the human experience. Parenthood." 

It's the thing parents hear most often. "Savor it." "Enjoy it." "It goes by too fast." But when I hear it nearly every day from people who have lived out nearly their whole lives and they tell me this is it. This is the best thing you'll ever know. Well, it does something to your perspective. I am, at times, painfully aware of the seconds ticking by. How many more years will my 5-year-old believe that a magical Santa Claus slips into our home with a bag ripe with toys just for her? How many more months will my 3-year-old gladly welcome snuggling in my bed, her hand gently curled around mine as her breath grows rhythmic with sleep?

 We don't know until it's too late. We never know when it will be the last time we hand-make our child's Halloween costume. We never know the last time we will host their birthday party, or play dress up with them, or paint their nails. We never know the last time we pull out the play-dough or use finger paints. 

So Wednesday morning after I got home from work, I woke the girls and I just DID it. I left my phone plugged into the charger and the TV off. A little Pandora played in the background and I kept my camera near by for a quick snapshot here and there. But mostly, I just played. 

It felt good. Scarlett was eager to make sand castles "just like at the real beach!" and Cecilia quickly turned my spaghetti into slithering snakes. I think sometimes we get so caught up in that damn to-do list that we forget to stop and have a little fun. Being a kid is SO. EFFING. FUN. The good news is that as a parent, you get to relive those times. You can build elaborate forts and get lost in a good coloring book. And that's totally normal. You try doing that shit without kids and you can get used to singledom and maybe a room with nicely padded walls. So live it up while the gettin' is good. 

(Check out Zinfindel photo-bombing the Halloween pictures. "This is MY holiday, thankyouverymuch.")

So go ahead and MAKE those rockin' home made costumes. TAKE those blackmail worthy photos. The cool thing about being a parent is that - to an extent - you get to handcraft the memories your kids will have. You get to be the Great Initiator of Traditions. It's a lofty title. Don't let it go to waste. While they might roll their eyes at the over-the-top childhood in their teenage years, I promise that as an adult they will never regret the magical, spectacular ways in which you went above and beyond for them. Reality and responsibility will hit them hard enough, soon enough. Let them be kids. 

I still have time to see if this theory proves true, but I like to believe that we can change the way our children view the world. We can shape their ideas about their influence on the world around them and give them the right tools to believe, even as an adult, in a bit of magic. I don't know about you, but I'm aiming to raise up some idealists. I recently saw a quote online (can't find an author) that states, "The ones who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones that do." I hope my kids are that kind of crazy.

Hoping that your Halloween was as magical as ours, and that Sandy didn't rain to hard on your parade! Stay safe, and don't forget to give in to your inner child. Hell, even if you don't have kids. Build a fort. I won't tell. 

Before I Lose Momentum, I Wanna Know...

This week I have gone to the gym three times, which for me, is GREAT. I've also had the chance to catch up with some friends and on some much needed sleep (even if the sleep has been at weird times and interrupted by bouts of insomnia - it's still more than I usually get).

 However, I've also neglected a lot of housework and home projects that I vowed to tackle during this glorious 5 day reprieve from work. So today I am buckling down and focusing solely on those things. However, I am definitely one of those people who needs inspiration to clean. For me, that usually comes in the form of a playlist. But not just any play list - it's a play list compiled of songs I remember reverberating through my childhood home when my mom was in a cooking, cleaning, baking frenzy the day before, or the day of our hosting a houseful of company. I loved those days! The whole house filled with wonderful aromas from the lemony freshness of Pledge or the sweet woodsy smell of Murphy's Oil to alluring traces of stuffed shells or baking cakes. So I'll share with you, a few of the bands that throw me back to that time and give me the boost I need to tackle my own projects on the home front.

So... Just a few of my cleaning favorites are:

Anything by:
The Crash Test Dummies
4 Non-Blonds
The Cranberries
500 Miles by The Proclaimers


I'm sure I'm missing some. Might have to go pick my mom's brain on some of her other cleaning favorites because I'm sure that they will strike a similar chord.

What gets you motivated to clean? Do you have a play list? I wanna know! Always looking for some inspiration. Oh, and HAPPY FRIDAY! :) 

Slowing Down

Oh, hey! So let's just forget that awkward 5 month hiatus and pick up where we left off... K?

Alright. So I've been working every Monday and Tuesday and every other weekend, right? You can imagine with only every other weekend off that I treat it like those 3 days will be the last three days of my life. I say "YES!" to everything! 

Sometimes this is a great thing. I see friends I have been missing, I indulge the girls' requests for crafts and park and restaurant outings, I spend great quality time with the husband. It's a real love fest. But the thing is... Sometimes my kids don't say "Hey, what are you doing this Saturday, mom?" But everyone else does. Enter... My last weekend off. 

There were couple dinners, karaoke revolution revivals, and Halloween parties. It was a friend-filled free-for-all. And. It. Was. AWESOME. I mean, who doesn't love a night of debauchery with Gumbi, Where's Wenda and Waldo, and The Cast of Rocky Horror Picture Show? Who doesn't love doing wheelies in Dr. Scott's wheel chair or grinding on cardboard cut outs of Matthew Broderick and Ben Stiller? ...What? I mean.......

But then I went back to work. And I missed my girls, and my guy, somethin' fierce. 

Wednesdays are the one day of the week that I worked the night before and I don't have a sitter. I usually opt for a movie day where I lay on the couch half asleep and half awake, interspersed with quick meals and easy playing. But after my weekend of friends, I decided the girls needed some SOLID fun with their mama. In order to do this, the one thing I have learned is: DON'T STOP MOVING. The minute I stop moving I find myself gravitating toward the couch, lusting after it's soft cushiony bed. So this Wednesday I decided, ENOUGH! Don't pass go, don't stop and collect 200 dollars, don't even change out of your freaking scrubs!

I'm not sure if I get good mom points or shame points for the scrubs thing. Good mom points: I did the damn thing. I got myself out the door without fall into a stupor first. Shame points: These scrubs have seen some super gross things. Bad, bad things. Like, worse than Matthew Broderick and Ben Stiller even. Note, however, that I DID take the time to stop for coffee. See? I know how to prioritize. Coffee > Clothes. I regress...

We went to the park. But not just any park. We went to the castle park. You know, the one that gives me a freaking heart attack every damn time because my kids go running in opposite directions down view-obstructing wooden passage ways where I have no effing clue if they are being lured away by men with lollipops and '70's porn star mustaches. That park. But it was 8 am and there were no other nervous moms with their easy-target children to be found. And that made it easier to keep a close eye. It's the little things.

We came. We saw. We did park type things. It was good. 

I have been reminded how very precious these moments are. How quickly they grow and enter new phases and want different things. Today, being the cool mom means not caring if I am still wearing nasty scrubs, just so they have my attention and the chance to do fun kiddie type things. But pretty soon, that won't be the case. Pretty soon it will be buying them their first lip gloss and letting them tack up their room with boy band posters. So I am savoring the now. My weekend off is on the horizon. It will be filled with a date night with the husband, mornings where we are all piled into one bed for family snuggles, pumpkin picking (super late, I KNOW!), and eagerly giving in to my girls' whims. 

I have been picking up a lot of extra shifts lately. Between a $300 parking ticket I was so lucky to receive in Philly (don't even get me started...) and wanting Santa to leave a lavish lay out for the girls this year, the extra money will really help. But I need to remember, the best thing I can give them is time. It's attention. It's me. So I'm not picking up shifts this week. I'm slowing down. I'm enjoying that I am so wanted. And with that... I'm off. Two very sweet little girls just woke up and after this post, I am going unplugged for the day. Happy Thursday! Tell me - what will you be focusing on more this weekend? Whatever it is - enjoy it!