A few years ago, Angela from New York sent us the children’s book Hurry, Hurry, Mary Dear by N. M. Bodecker and Eric Blegvad. It’s a poem about a woman in New England who has chores galore before winter comes. “Stack the stove wood, string the beans, up the storms and down the screens.” Round and round and in and out she whirls, while Hubs lolls in bed and then waits for his tea in his rocking chair.

Dick isn’t that bad, we live in an apartment, and if ignoring your children were an Olympic sport I’d be the Shawn Johnson of mothering. (Finally a gold in something!). So other than the adequately-helpful husband, easy access to mass-manufactured canned goods, and kids happy to watch movie after movie, my life is exactly the same as the under-appreciated, over-worked Mary Dear.

That’s my excuse for not blogging, anyway. Of course, probably you managed to find other means of entertainment in my absence (Just kidding! — of course you sat and moped while I slumped and Michael Phelps won yet another gold medal. I mean, after awhile, doesn’t all that winning and breaking world records and million dollar bonuses from Visa get just a bit . . . old?).

Have you noticed how many sports have four events or four strokes, or how much better baseball would be if there were only four innings? So I tried to think up four categories for my blogging break, but there’s a reason I’m not an Olympic athlete, despite doing my best to eat as close to 12,000 calories a day as possible. So I fell back on pros and cons:

Seven Pros and Cons of the Blogging Break

(1) Pro: Fun Outings with the kids (pools, dinosaur museums, parks)

Con: Since Susan (turning 4 in October) will not start kindergarten for 734 days, there are more pools, dinosaur museums, parks and McDonald play places in my immediate future than June Cleaver ever imagined.

(2) Pro: All this swimming = best tan of my life.

Con: All this no-routine-in-general, not-going-to-the gym-in-specific = flabbiest stomach since Spot vacated the premises.

(3) Pro: Gorgeous Utah weather — it’s getting chilly after dark now, and we’ve been stopping at parks on our way home.

Con: That’s on our way home from seeing every single (cheap) house, townhome, and condo in a thirty-mile radius. Apparently we are poor, picky, poor, and soon-to-be homeless.

(4) Pro: Quality reading time.

Con: Spending the better part of two days reading Breaking Dawn = “quality” might be a stretch. (That’s nothing time-wasting-wise though — I read Scarlett, arguably the worst book ever, in 18 hours straight).

(5) Pro: More time for “real life.”

Con: The house is still a mess anyway. “Real life” should not include “clean house.”

(6) Pro: Time with good friends from high school and my sister.

Con: Real-life problems like complicated pregnancies and lousy husbands are much harder to cope with that quirky servers and mean Stumblers and feelings of raging blogging-inadequacy.

(7) Pro: If you don’t post, turning on the computer is much less “what-if-no-one-commented-on-my-last-post” angst-ridden.

Con: If you don’t post, getting fewer comments is almost for sure. (Although I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the emails, tweets, and IRL comments; my acknowledgments page is all ready in case I ever write anything real).

If you wrote a great post while I’ve been gone, let me know. I hate it when people say that. Duh, all my posts are great, and if you weren’t such a loser, you’d know that and whenever you come back from a break you’d be camped out at my blog catching up. Right? Well, let me know if I missed your epic/ramble/etc. I’ll stumble it for you! Seriously. Unless you’d rather I didn’t, in which case tell me why, ’cause I’m planning a post on Adventures in Stumbling.

We’re going to my dad’s family’s reunion tonight; back late Thursday. Had to promise Dick I’d do all the laundry this week in exchange for him getting to go on the funnest camping trip ever with the coolest people ever. ! So if you send me a post url after 3 pm today, I’ll stumble it early Friday. I’d really like to read your post, stumble it, and then get some feedback from you as to what sort of response/traffic you get from the experience. Like a focus group, only better.

But who has to clean up after them? Me. That’s who. And somehow putting the blender back, which takes five seconds, is the absolute last straw.

I told Dick that the kitchen was like my office, and how would he like it if I messed up his office?

Of course he wouldn’t like that, he admitted, but now he has another way to irritate me: asking if I’m ever going to do the dishes in my office. So, I’d like to take back what I said about the kitchen being my office. I hereby lay no claim whatsoever on the kitchen or its contents.

In that spirit, I’ve been doing more “Cook with Your Children” stuff. I want my kids to learn to cook, be aware of sound nutritional principles (whether we live up to them or not) AND to appreciate that the food on the table doesn’t just magically appear.

One of our more successful experiments so far is Banana Popsicles, which we first had during spring break at The Well-Rounded Woman‘s house. Apparently in Arizona it’s a good idea to start freezing your fruit in March.

For this project I had only one lovely assistant, Susan, as Spot was napping and Sally was attending that ill-fated musical with Grandma.

Here she is holding the ingredients. I don’t know how bananas can be both green and freckled at the same time.

I like my bananas ripe in general, but they need to be pretty firm for the freezing and impaling process. Speaking of processes, here’s the complicated recipe:

I stole the phrase “not lengthwise” off recipezaar.com, I think. In case that sounds like “not-counter-clockwise” or something, here’s what they look like before you pop them in the freezer:

And here’s Aunt Marcy demonstrating the proper dipping technique, or at least, what results from proper dipping technique. (Notice her new pretty not-wedding ring):

Dick’s boss’s name in Egypt was Falak. She was kind of a pill, that woman. Here in Utah we have neighbors named Fallick. Anyway.

Whatever your name, these Banana Popsicles will work for you! Next time I’d like to try a layer of peanut butter topping (think Reese’s makes some), freezing for a minute, and then a layer of chocolate. Yu-um.

This weekend’s Things That Must Go features a $50 Giveaway from Hanes! (More Underwear + Socks = Less Frequent Laundry Loads!). Check back to share your Things That Must Go and to enter the contest.

Sometimes I think about homeschooling. This thinking usually peaks around May and plummets in July. The timing is handy, making me look forward to both summer vacation and to school starting again. And even though I know it’s a cycle, I can’t avoid it because let’s face it: two universal truths are competing here.

1) Kids are annoying. (Yes? You disagree? How about “high-energy” or “best-enjoyed-after-long-stretches-away-from-home”?)

2) Public school policy can be moronic.

I think I’m pretty rational (if liberal) about school attendance, so imagine my surprise when Sally’s school started sending home truancy notices last year. As if their attendance policies were somehow more significant than mine. Wait — Who gave birth to this kid? That’s what I thought.

When I reported to the school secretary, she advised getting doctors’ notes in future, as illnesses are excused. I asked, “How about I just tell you she’s sick. Because I don’t take her to the doctor for every cold or stomach bug, and I assume you don’t want green snot and vomit everywhere.” And the secretary kindly told me I could bring Sally in for them to determine that she is sick. As if I need anyone else to tell me my kid’s sick or to dispense a heavenly benediction upon my decision to keep my kid home from school. Just when, exactly, did public school import Principal Mao?

So. There’s a lot to be said for homeschooling, namely: freedom from dimwit public “officials” with unimaginable thirsts for power.

Then again (it’s July, after all), there’s much to be said for saying adios every morning at 8:30 and feeling genuinely excited to pick up the kids at 3. Love you again!!

I admit. This seems pretty unbalanced on the side of arranging things for mom’s benefit. Sure, Sally gets interaction and learns stuff at school. But I could set up playdates and fieldtrips and such. And now that she can read (after agonizing about her not reading by five, she read Harry Potter 1-4 last week), I am ultra-plus confident that she can and will learn whatever she wants to.

So why are we gazing longingly at the bins of Elmer’s glue and plastic pencil keepers? The stacks of freshly-cut paper and the Barbie backpacks?

The truth is, Sally needs other adults to love/emulate/admire. The longer she’s at home all day with me, the more needy she gets. I was teaching her Sunday school class at church until recently, and she always wanted to sit right by me, kissing my arm and distracting everyone.

Last June, Dick came home from a business trip on the last day of school. I picked him up at the airport and then we went to Sally’s school. I thought she would be ecstatic over seeing her beloved, fun, tolerant father. But she barely looked at him. She was inconsolable for a couple hours because she wouldn’t be seeing her teacher anymore: Mrs. Machol had announced that she was switching schools next year.

We reminded Sally that we were hoping to move too before the next year, and that she would be in second grade anyway. “But I won’t see her ever again,” she wailed.

Honestly? I was a bit miffed. Wasn’t she excited to see Daddy? Wasn’t she delighted about getting to be with Mom all the time? I promised to take her to the library (like kid crack) and swimming lessons (more kid crack) and Grandma’s house (ultimate kid crack), and, nothing.

Of course she bounced back, and this summer has been pretty good. But I want you to know that I am buying school supplies tomorrow, and next week I’ll call the school to see who she gets for second grade.

As long as her teachers are like Mrs. Machol and not Principal Mao, public school is best. For mom AND for Sally.

Don’t forget to go share your Things That Must Go. The LLBean Tote Bag giveaway ends tonight at midnight.

p.s. I don’t think Sally’s autistic. For one thing, she’s very affectionate and, for another, Grandma, despite all her other perfections, is not a trained psychologist. I’m sorry Sally was so crazy at the Little Women musical, Mom, but I don’t think autism was the problem.

Of course he does this completely wrong, letting Spot play for “five minutes” in the big girls’ room before being banished to her lonely crib, but I accepted that it was a nice gesture.

We celebrated our tenth wedding anniversary and recounted our highlights, which consisted mostly of remembering fights in exotic locales (remember that discussion in Hyde Park when we went to Iceland and England for Spring Break at Columbia? There’s a reason people head SOUTH for Spring Break).

Then this weekend we went to my parents’ to celebrate my sister’s birthday. My dad got a little upset when I volunteered Dick for some outdoor labor, saying I shouldn’t “take advantage of his good nature.” I think my parents have spent the past ten years living in fear that my shrewish nature might finally push Dick over the edge, and I suppose now they’re really worried: What if Dick decides to follow the Prince of Darkness’s example and leave his innocent wife and three kids?

Well, I got news for you. First: I want Dick to know that if he ever left, I wouldn’t fight him for custody of the kids. It’d be a sacrifice, naturally, but he can have them all to himself. And second, I cannot imagine a person more different from my more-selfish-and-self-centered-than-Lindsay-Lohan-and-Bill-Clinton combined PoD brother-in-law than Dick. Whereas the PoD has both a Bentley and a Mercedes, Dick would like to buy a bike. From DI (like Salvation Army). Because riding a bike would be better exercise than the train.

I could go on, (I could mention our connubial life, and how superior Dick is in that area as well, but I wouldn’t want anyone to think that my sister and I compare notes on that sort of thing. But we do, and Dick is. Much.)

Mostly I wouldn’t want anyone to think that I am blind to Dick’s flaws. He does have a few.

Number one being that he is, in all honesty, a dork. I should probably look in the urban dictionary for a term from this decade, but “dork” just fits. Here he is, pretending to drown. How inappropriate.

dick pretends to drown, susan swims the length from jane on Vimeo.

Just ignore those pet names we have for each other.

And here is Sally doing underwater somersaults. I am afraid that I might be a dork, too. At least I didn’t attempt a Michelle Obama-style bump. It’s humiliating enough to have your high-five go unacknowledged.

sally doing flips in the water from jane on Vimeo.a>.

Dick thinks I should get the kids in swim team. I think he should try driving them everywhere before he starts inventing new activities for them to do. I know, Nana and Grampa, Dick was a star in swim team. But, remember how annoying it was driving him to all those practices?

What? You say that sort of hands-on parenting is what produces such wonderful, dorky grown-ups? Argh.

Well, swim lessons start again on Monday, and I’m planning to keep my dorky husband, and that’s what works for me this week!

Things That Must Go and an LLBean Tote Bag giveaway are this weekend!

He might be a little young, but he is agile and nubile and such white teeth on that boy. Here he is again. I am so, so sad that I didn’t just march up to the stage and get a real picture, but I don’t know if Dick would’ve believed it was only for Marcy.

So Gray is forever blurry, but oh-so-beautiful. (Those shoulders!)

I’m thinking this could be a regular feature around here: A Man for Marcy. Only for my favorite sister (Happy Birthday, Marcy!), would I do something like ogle strangers.

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p.s. We’re moving servers this weekend, so apparently our sites will be down forever. Or hopefully 24-72 hours. Which is basically the same thing. I had some great plans for Things That Must Go, but this server has been a giant fuse short of a motherboard for awhile now, so, what can you do? Hope to see you again soon! Things That Must Go: Computers, Computers, Computers. I know I’d be lost without them, but really, they’re bad for my blood pressure. Apparently our servers got upgraded, so we’re not moving. And after I had packed all my china so carefully.

Dick and I were married in the Manti temple ten years ago, and the temple is a symbol of our marriage and our family, of our belief that we can be together forever. Even on the days when that sounds more like making license plates with my bare hands for seventy years than a heavenly blessing.

Mary Poppins is a bit more secular than that, and apparently feels she has to compete with those Disney Princesses. So she called her craft:

Sugar Cube Princess Castles

When planning a war campaign craft, the most important thing is gathering the correct supplies.

A box of sugar cubes is just over a dollar. Glitter, glue sticks and tin foil are cheap at the dollar store. I cut up a cereal box to get the cardboard for the bases.

Sugar + shiny stuff = serious enthusiasm. When we ask Susan what she wants to be when she grows up, she says, “Just like Sally.” It’s only a matter of time before Spot realizes that she, too, wants to be just like Sally, and also that sugar tastes better than glitter.

Wrap the tin foil around the cardboard for the base, like so. And stop eating the sugar!

What?

While they concentrated on their castles, I pondered the fact that Sally now has freckles on her chin, and her ears are still elf-pointed, just like her daddy’s. We got her to think positively about the birthmark on her arm by telling her that it was how I knew I was taking the right baby home from the hospital. My sister asked me today if we’d be letting Sally get her ears pierced soon. Probably for her eighth birthday, but only if she realizes she wants it done. So far she hasn’t mentioned it, or the fact that she has Spock ears. Wonder how we’ll make her feel good about those.

Here’s Susan with her finished castle. Mary Poppins forgot to buy the right kind of glue (plain old school glue is best), and some frustration was expressed when trying to get the dang cubes to stay stacked, so we did squares and triangles, and built a house.

Here’s our best rendition of Sleeping Beauty’s Castle. It’s a castle just like the house we’re hoping to buy before summer ends or Mary Poppins loses all patience (whichever comes first) is a castle.

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And that is not me screaming.

This year I thought of fun 50th birthday stuff: black balloons, black roses in a coffin. Luckily I’m a procrastinator, because a week before her birthday she told me she was going in for a biopsy.

Black balloons seem a bit inappropriate when someone’s in the middle of a cancer scare. Chocolate, however, is always a good thing (especially if you’re my mom). Food is a comfort when we’re worried or sick and a way of rejoicing when we’re not.

Mom’s biopsy came back benign, and we celebrated her birthday with the usual summer fare: hamburgers on the grill, corn on the cob, and chocolate. I offered to make her whatever dessert she wanted, and she requested brownies and ice cream. Now, you know I have NOTHING against a good brownie (i.e. one made from Duncan Hines mix), but there are one or two things in life that are even better than brownies.

And since Mom is just about my (counting on fingers) 5th favorite person on earth, I wanted to make something just a little extra-special. So I called up Tara and asked her what she’s made that’s special, and chocolate, and has easy-to-find and cheap ingredients. She read me this recipe from Allrecipes.com, and the rest is . . . chocolate bliss!

I had to take extra photos, because in the first ones I put the actual amount of whipped cream we like, and then you couldn’t see the cakes. So this picture is highly misleading, dairy-wise.

Here’s what “cakes puff but centers jiggle” looks like:

The first time I made this I accidentally used 4 tablespoons of flour, and they were still good, but they’re better with the right amount. The original recipe calls for making this in a regular muffin pan with jumbo-size liners, but I’ve been wanting some ramekins for baked custard (and I don’t have jumbo liners).

I’d tell you these were a big hit, but that’s pretty obvious, right? The best thing is that you can mix up a batch and then refrigerate the batter for up to three days (maybe more, but we’d eaten it by then). Just bring it up to room temperature before baking.

The best, best thing is that I think Mom will be around for another 50 years to enjoy these with us.

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Natural Mommy’s Recipe Swap.

But the best part of swimming lessons?

Don’t forget Things That Must Go this weekend.

Brought to you by Jacki.

The good news is that Warm Biscuit is sponsoring this weekend’s Things That Must Go Giveaway by offering a $50 gift certificate.

It’s a good thing I don’t like to shop or sigh over cute stuff when I’m already over-budget for the month year, because I haven’t had this much fun browsing through an online store since I discovered Pottery Barn Kids. Warm Biscuit is just as fun and homey-elegant as PBK, and, well, their prices are more reasonable.

Warm Biscuit’s got lots of fun summer gadgets to entertain the kids, in addition to their regular cute, vintage bedding, curtains, furniture, jewelry, and more. They are all about encouraging kids to use their imaginations rather than rely on the demon electronics.

Here in Utah we’ve got “ox elder” bugs, as Susan calls them. Sally and Susan walk through the living room at least once a day with their hands cupped tightly over a glass, to release some insect outside our apartment. (Maybe if they stopped snacking in their room there wouldn’t be so much wildlife indoors?) Think how much more fun their mission of mercy would be with this stylish bug catcher. 

If you’re really brave, or want to get back at a friend with kids, consider the drum set.

And if your husband happened to get you, say, a carpet steam cleaner for Mother’s Day (again, and I love it! Honey!), Warm Biscuit has gifts just for mom, like this beautiful personalized bracelet (do I sound like Vanna White, or is it just me?) But really? I would totally wear this:

 
To be eligible to win the $50 gift certificate, simply leave a comment about your Things That Must Go. Deadline is Sunday at 10 pm, and I’ll announce a winner (and any other spectacular entries) on Monday. Warm Biscuit also has free shipping on any order over $45 right now (enter the code: wbblogging4148). 

My Things That Must Go

The bad news is I can think of about seven Things That Must Go. But a few of them are rather unmentionable. I’d say this period that is worse than any period I’ve had in thirteen years must go, but I don’t want to alienate my three male readers (Hi guys! Sorry!).

I’d also say that men with tongue piercings must go, but really, if I can’t see yours, then it’s fine. It’s when you’re walking across the street and sticking your tongue out to play with it that I have a problem.

My real Things That Must Go are:

1) People who say things like, “I’m really not happy unless I’m always learning something new.” Right. If I’m not studyin’ up on them esoteric Chinese horticultures, I’m just sick. Sick.

2) Taking life too seriously. A friend sent me a link to the hilarious blog Seriously, So Blessed. The best satire is that which almost sounds like it’s for real, like Swift’s A Modest Proposal. Seriously, So Blessed isn’t quite believable (although some of the commenters have been fooled), but if you’ve got a couple minutes to kill, head over for some laughs. Only, don’t forget to come back and share your Things That Must Go!

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Also, I feel bad that I complain about my kids so much, and I want you to know that if I did not think they were the most gorgeous creatures ever to grace . . . hmm, I already said that, huh? Anyway, if they weren’t beautiful, I would complain that much more. Just call me Shallow Mom. (Hey, is that domain taken?)

First day of swim lessons today. Don’t you just want to take small bites out of all that smooth skin?

Look at those eyes. Dick and I have green eyes. Sally got blue from both grandfathers and Susan got brown from one of her Grandma’s eyes. Not “one of her Grandmas,” but from one Grandma who has one green and one brown eye.

I know we’re not supposed to have favorites, but this one was my favorite for three years and eight months. She’s still my favorite whenever I see her reading a book that I loved when I was younger. Right now she’s reading Andrew Lang’s Green Fairy Book. Any nightmares will be referred to Daddy.

We call Sally freckle face, and have forcibly desensitized her to our teasing enough that she takes it as a compliment. Of course it helps that Dick and I each sport a million freckles ourselves. (And that she is still young enough to want to be like Mom and Dad).

This one, I confess, is my favorite stinker of them all. No forgotten middle child in this family.

Seriously, I hear those awful commercials on the radio for kid modelling agencies, where they probably want to charge you thousands of dollars to take a headshot, and I think, if only this kid weren’t the most recalcitrant, uncooperative, recidivist child in the universe, we could be millionaires. MILLIONAIRES!

I gotta go ferbert Susan’s arm right now. Be right back.

This one isn’t indoctrinated into the picture-posing protocol yet. Also, she doesn’t like to smile on cue. But we’ll probably keep her, at least until something better comes along.

Or until we have to start supporting her shoe habit.

Spot gets her extreme self-sacrificing nurturing of her babies at the expense of her own needs from her mom. She’s picking that strawberry FOR the baby.

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Here’s Spot in the pool yard, not swimming. 

Usually we save movies for when it’s too hot to be outside, but last Saturday we gave up on that and took the kids to Horton Hears a Who at the dollar theater. That’s Call Me Princess Ruby in the front and Miss I Like to Dress Like a Pioneer in the back. Girls are so blessedly anti-violence.

Horton Hears a Who is an awful movie, even worse than Bee Movie, and if I were a homeshooling mom, I’d be UP IN ARMS over the outrageous vilification of the “pouch-schooling” kangaroo mom, who is the source of everything evil and intolerant. Who writes these movies? 

Our diet deteriorates drastically stays about the same during the summer. Susan is so helpful: here she has shredded the chicken nuggets into microscopic pieces for Spot.

In anticipation of hot days, we bought economy-size sunscreen, swim rings, diving toys, and sunglasses for all. Sally wears her sunglasses at night. I think Corey Hart’s a little old for her, which is good, because otherwise we’d be beating him off with a stick.

Spot got a little depressed about the weather and hit the bottle.

I’m praying for a warm front. I don’t know how much more sparkling apple cider Spot’s system can take.

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In the meantime, here’s my recipe for a Happy Summer:

Now that you’ve got the kids occupied, it’s time for mom to have some quality time. If you get tired of reading blogs (I know, like that could EVER happen), put your computer to some good use. On sites like PrimeTimeRewind and Hulu, along with the network stations sites (nbc.com, fox.com, etc), you can catch up on all your favorite shows.

You might be thinking that TV is just so … so … shallow. But there are lessons to be learned and inspiration to be gotten. Tonight Hillary Clinton is (probably) (maybe) realizing that she is not going to win the Democratic nomination. Other women have faced similar setbacks, though, and I’d like to offer some encouragement to Hillary, inspired by Phyllis on The Office. In the season finale, Goodbye, Toby, Phyllis faces her toughest assignment: party planning. As she gets overwhelmed at the enormity of it all, she shares:

When I was a little girl, my mother told me I could be anything when I grew up: teacher’s aide, nurse’s assistant, some sort of volunteer. But now, I just don’t know.  

Despite these discouraging thoughts, Phyllis goes on to throw “the best party” ever. Complete with bouncy castles and fair food. I think Hillary probably needs a big hug, and to remember that she can still be anything she wants to be: teacher’s aide, nurse’s assistant, some sort of volunteer.

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And that’s how I responding to “Mom, I’m bored” this summer.

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