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I stood behind the backstop with you at bat. Playing on the boys soccer team gave me confidence and I watched openly.
You were only vaguely interested, and we held clammy hands on a group date.

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I'm struggling to stay on top of this. Part of it is lacking creativity. Part of it is lacking focus. Part of it is investing in an enormous personal reorganization. Part of it is thinking and planning the direction of GNMParents. Part of it is winter. Part of it is wondering who you are and why you're here. Part of it is another website I'm working on. Part of it is a fourth site I'm contemplating.

Part of it is none of the aforementioned components fitting perfectly.

I'm having fun with the budgeting thing, though. An update will be up on GNMP tomorrow morning.

Today

Brisk Morning in Maine. At least there is no wind chill.

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There was dark drama in the hallways, time and time again. Together. Apart. Lather, rinse, repeat. The sweetest and the cruelest, as it often is with first loves.

And to think, it might've been with me.

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I need a rocking banana bread (or any other fruit/veggie bread) recipe. Do you have one to share?

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Tip-toe, hand wag, don't look me in the eye. Persist past the point of bother, into an unfamiliar, uncomfortable, unreal realm.

So sorry, they couldn't hear me. I hope that a teacher, leader, friend will help.

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Do you have a written budget? Do you stick to it? Is it fluffy or trim? We're trim compared to many, but I'm embarking on an effort to reduce our food budget by 1/4. It's very ambitious, especially because good, creative, healthy food is a priority.

Today I looked at the flier before I made my list, and then came up with a menu plan for the next week and a half. Week and a half. Which I think is better than an hour and a half. I bought things that were needed for multiple recipes and tried to keep things interesting, delicious, and healthy. Of course I'll need to do mini trips for more bread and produce, but other than that I'm hoping to make it through with what I bought today. We'll see.

I'm also going to get in the habit of making more homemade snacks for the Punks. How domestic. Muffins and banana bread and stuff like that. High fructose corn syrup be damned. Gosh, maybe I need an apron.

So, here's the thing. I keep reading and hearing about job losses and company closings. And about people who are getting slammed by unexpected expenses. And the husband, daughter, son gets who gets sick. I know you have, too.

Building and maintaining an emergency fund becomes increasingly important now. Or perhaps I'm over-reacting. Or perhaps we're behind the ball.

According to Dave Ramsey (Total Money Makeover), 49% of Americans could cover less than one month's expenses if they lost their income. Does that surprise you?

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Twice upon a time we worked together. One job was easy; the other was hard to leave, but harder to continue.

I bought your daughter's grandmother's tasty tamales one Christmas. They were the best I've had.

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I'm siiiick. Actually, I am feeling a bit better now, but it was a rough weekend. It was like the worst morning sickness I ever experienced combined with a splitting headache. Good times.

The upside was that I finally read (most of) Dave Ramsey's Total Money Makeover. So, that's what's on the brain. And the brain is cranking. More on that to come.

Have you read it? What's your take?

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It started when you started wearing so many swatches. Rubber bracelets and pretense were your things, swatches were mine.
Later, it was complicated by a boy.
Now it reminds me of Jerry and Newman.
I'm Jerry.

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You should read this sad account of a 3 year old who was shoved towards the pack. Mocked for her creativity.

It's a shame that children take to heart behavior that grown-ups don't think twice about.

Course, I have a feeling that that little girl won't be following the pack, despite the great sock mismatch debacle of 2009.

Hey S: Being creative is a gift. Meet Lucy:

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Your husband died first, and my memories of it are filtered through frosted glass. Then my father died but I don't remember you being there with us. Nor your children.

They were brothers, we're still family!

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So, Rob and I are always facebooking and tweeting about his Buffalo Chicken Pizza. Mmmm...

Whole wheat dough (homemade or from a good local pizza shop. We use Portland Pie. Not homemade.) rolled out.
A bag of shredded cheese- Parmesan and mozzarella combo works well, mixed with about 1/3- 1/2 cup of finely crumbled Gorgonzola (even if you don't really like it), spread evenly on the dough.
Sprinkle with chunks of cooked chicken breast coated in a little bit of Frank's hot sauce (Frank's hot sauce).

Cook on a 400 degree preheated/floured pizza stone with the oven door cracked open (for a nice crispy crust), for about 15 minutes.

Drizzle with Frank's hot sauce according to your taste, and serve with celery or sprinkle with diced celery.

Do you like Buffalo Chicken? because I have a dip recipe that is like totally to die for.

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You're caring and kind and kind of out of touch.

Soon 4 of yours: son, 2 sons-in-law, and daughter will be in Iraq.

You'll be home with your pride and your smily ageless boy.

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I mentioned a delicious dinner we had tonight, and got a tweet back asking for the recipe. It's a staple here in the winter and perfect for a stormy evening. We had it with a very fancy crudités which consisted of carrot sticks, celery, garbanzo beans and ranch dressing. I know, fan*cy.

diced onion and garlic and oil to saute them in
turkey kielbasa sliced thin
canned diced tomatoes (1 large or 2 small)
can canellini beans drained and rinsed
can kidney beans drained and rinsed
Tablespoon of thyme
Glug of balsamic vinegar (maybe 2 Tablespoons)
1/2 lb pasta cooked al dente according to package directions (farfalle or twists work well)

Saute onion until soft. Add garlic and add kielbasa, stir often, cook until browned. Add all remaining ingredients (except for the pasta) and simmer for a while. Add pasta, stir and serve.

Mmmm.... try it- it's good.

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The smell of erasers was pervasive as I voted for class president. Head down, hand raised, determining the immediate future of our third grade classroom. You pressed the flag stick onto the victor's desks with clay.

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I wrote about Aidan's 9th birthday already. But this is worth sharing, too:

Like father, like son.

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Vacation is officially over. The kids are asleep and in the morning we will be traipsing down to the bus stop. It went fast, was full of laughs and the general stresses of being in a family whose members make a commitment to spend the holidays together.

Which is interesting because it's a curse wrapped up in a blessing.

Which wraps the pain in guilt.

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Enough: what's the last really delicious homemade meal you ate?

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Buzzing. Far away from sleep. Knowing that you will be Nine.
*
So much more than eight.
*
But you, my boy, my eldest Punk, are so much more than more.
*
My pride, too, is more than more.

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HaPpY 9tH bIrThDaY aIdAn!
we love you so-

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You're too young for the secrets you hide. You disguise your poor choices, but the you that's presented is so clearly just the shell.

You awkwardly try to connect, but you're often insulting (bordering on mean).

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Though I asked you to stop, you continued to explicitly discuss a fatal accident in front of my small children. I complained to your boss.

Now you always call me Mrs. Hatch.

You're a children's librarian.

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Your stories grow taller and taller with each theatrical telling. You stand in exuberant neediness in the center of the circle. We laugh, we bend in laughter, but we aren't always sure why.

Everyone in moderation.

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Happy New Year~

My only resolution is a goal extended: to be intentional. And you?

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They gave a young mom a success label that was far too heavy to hold. Years went by, each with a growing weight of brokenness.

I clearly remember the sweet smile of the daughter she killed.

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I reconnected with a former colleague and friend whom I hadn't spoken to in about 5 years. We worked together in 2 different jobs in 2 very different industries. There was a young woman we knew- she much better than I- who graduated from a program which employed us. This young mom went through easily, learning what needed to be learned and experiencing a great deal of success in the process. She was a poster child. A success story.

Yesterday I learned that 10 years after I knew her, she poisoned and killed her 2 children and tried to kill herself.

Sick. Sorrow. Sadness. Oh, my.

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Your burgeoning interest in photography is a beautiful thing, and your slide show warmed the wintry barn. It documented only the happiest parts of us.

You're close enough to fit, but different enough that you can't.

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Thanks for reminding me that I blog, Nance. Not sure what happened.

Over the past week I've spent some time with my family- my bigger family. There was a lot of goodness and fun in those moments.

Family members, like no one else, have the power and ability to inflict doubt and pain. It's a power that should be harnessed for good, not evil.

I know I'm not alone when I recount my mother raising us to the repeating mantra: If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. Does that bring up an internal struggle for you? Are we teaching the Punks to subdue their thoughts and opinions or are we teaching them to be thoughtful and kind when communicating?

What do you think? And how've you been?

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When you were so small you laughed with my dad on the porch of your first house. You pointed, eyes on him. Erupting in laughter each time he responded. It's not a bee, it's a hook.

36x365x126 and Last Night

You endlessly do for the ones that you hold. Searching for ways to strengthen and deepen and magnify that connection. I hope they can see what you offer and respect what you want most.

I do.

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Last night Aidan and I attended our local Chamber Singers event. It was too late for the younger 2, and it's become a tradition for A and I to go. I love to watch him watch, and it is beautiful stuff. This video was from a different performance last winter, but you'll get a feel for what we saw and heard:



Capathia Jenkins also performed with the high schoolers last night. She was wonderful and what I loved watching most was the way she was connecting with the kids in the Chamber Singers. And the smile that energized the entire place.

Daniel Strange (2001 graduate) also performed, accompanying some of the songs and playing a captivating instrumental version of We Three Kings with other former graduates Adam Frederick and Andy Robbins. These guys come back to do this concert every year. I'm not sure if they've played every show since they left, but I believe they've been there for the past several years.

It's inspiring to see so many people- young kids (the Boy Sings of Maine also performed- youngest members being 8), older kids, younger adults, and uh, more seasoned adults, who are so driven by their passions. So much a part of the community. So talented and so dedicated to sharing their talent and spreading inspiration.

It was lovely.

Pictures- OPK

I took some pictures of other peoples kids today. A few came out pretty cute:













Cute kids.

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I rode my big wheel down your practically vertical driveway. A precisely parked car prevented me from plunging down into the ravine. Ouch.

You were hard on your kids. Now, you display photos with genuine pride.

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Today is my father's birthday. I wrote about him already, and my rules are that I only do one x365 per person. I could write about my dad for x365. I wrote about him at GNMParents today, too.

He would have been 78. Wow. 78. The age grandfathers should be. The age dads should be. He should be grumpy and irritable and impatient and a big pain in the butt to deal with. He should be telling stories and making me laugh and making me cry.

My Lucy has my humor, which comes to me from both of my parents. Or maybe my mom appreciates my humor the way she appreciated his. In any case Lucy like to say things like:

Your dad died, right Mom? (giggle)
Papa's dad died too, right Mom? (giggle, giggle)
You're gonna die really soon, right Mom? (GIGGLE, giggle, giggle)
Aidan's gonna die before me! (Guffaw)

It's not freaky to me, although it is to many. She's been lucky- we've been lucky these last 4 1/2 years. She has no concept of death. This is part of figuring it out.

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You called my son "Little Bird" the day he was born. At 9' 11", "Big Bird" might have been more apropos. Did you think that then?

Your huge Italian name made you seem even more petite.

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I love and hate this time of year. I look forward to celebrating Christmas with my family while still dreading the travel and lists and many obligations that blanket us.

This is neither unique nor particularly interesting.

9 years ago this month I was expecting Aidan. I remember sitting on our couch, watching an MTV special about John Denver. Tears were pouring down my face and Rob was trying hard not to laugh at me.

We laughed a lot. We talked a lot. We walked a lot. Our anticipation simmered just below the surface. It was a quiet holiday. It was the only holiday I can remember not traveling.

And you? What's on your mind?