Amazing Race or is it just a Rat Race

Reality TV took off and running with the premiere of Survivor a decade ago and a slew of reality shows have been born ever since: Hell's Kitchen, Big Brother, The Bachelor(ette) and, our personal favorite, The Amazing Race. And those are just the ones that have stood the test of time on network TV. Even several seasons later, I tune in to The Amazing Race faithfully. On Sunday nights I try not to move my behind from the couch as I watch teams race around the world for the ultimate prize of one million dollars. It's a fun way to be introduced to various countries and cultures, with entertaining challenges to complete. But it's the people watcher in me that keeps me entertained. The  12 competing teams are comprised of two people each, often related, but not always. There are also best friend teams and dating or engaged teams. I think once there was even a divorced couple teaming together. Hilarity ensues when you watch these people running around foreign countries, completing difficult, dangerous or entertaining challenges.

I've been known to joke with Tony that the show would be the demise of our marriage. Actually, I think I am smart enough to know that I would never entertain the thought of auditioning for a show like that with my beloved husband.  While I love my husband, he can be a control-freak. And I am not exactly a door mat. I think we would butt heads. He would yell and I would cry. All I can say is that the camera men would love us. Who doesn't enjoy a little wife bashing and throw downs? In theory Tony would be a good partner. He is very intelligent and has a great sense of direction on foreign streets. Dangerous or difficult tasks involving heights would not be a problem. But.....I have more common sense. While he's got the brains, I've got more common sense. Tony is more impulsive and when I would make a persuasive argument of why he should listen to me, I think my pleas would fall upon deaf ears. I don't see us working well under pressure for extended periods of time. I think that would be more the issue. We've weathered enough crises in our marriage to know that we do pull together when we need to. But for weeks on end with the stress being continual? Nope. Divorce would be a definite possibility.

With the determination of a contestant and having the need to accomplish as much as possible into my day, I squeezed in two weeks worth of grocery shopping today between dropping Elise off at school at noon and needing to be at a board meeting at 1. Clearly doable in my mind without my daughter to slow me down.  Even taking into account the drive time and putting away the groceries, I seemed to believe I could tackle it.  In reality, this adventure began an hour earlier when I decided that with about 45 minutes before school drop off, I could hit the large local warehouse for some bulk shopping for the church.  If I actually stuck to the three items on my list, it was a no-brainer. In and out with time to spare. Ohhh, but how often do you actually stick to the plan? Thirty minutes later I am checking out with my $110 worth of personal goods on top of the church list, which had to be rung out on two separate check outs to keep the receipts itemized. The plan sort of took a nosedive when I realized Elise had to be at school in 22 minutes and I've forgotten to plan for lunch. OOPS! It was while she was eating her ginormous piece of pizza when the cashier from the check out lane from whence I had come tapped me on the shoulder. "Ma'am, two items got separated from your orders. You forgot to buy and pay for the paper towels and napkins." Clearly Mom brain had affected my ability to notice the 12 rolls of paper towels and 2,000 count of dinner napkins had been left behind. After waiting for the person ahead of me to check out and watching the clock while Elise is choking down her pizza in the store and then in the van, we get out of there and to school with precisely 1 minute to spare. Breathe.

But, no....Not yet.  Remember, I still have intentions of going to the grocery story.  Heaven forbid I spend an hour in down time before my meeting. Nope. Gotta squeeze one more place in. And like I mentioned, it's not exactly a short list. My heart rate had recovered enough that I felt up to the challenge. And, man, what a challenge. For the sake of time, I chose the Schnucks next to Elise's school, which is close to her school but not close to home. Not a moment of brilliance since the drive home will offset the time savings...But anyway.... While I've been in this particular store a handful of times, it's not my Schnucks of choice. And, unlike most of my trips to the grocery store, I failed to re-write my list in order by which the foods are found in the store. Yes, I am one of those people who groups like-items together so it reads like a map of the store. Today was a lesson in reinforcing why I take the time to do that. I spent 15 minutes in the store and never left the produce section. Back and forth on my list -- even venturing into the meat section ever so briefly to only find myself back in produce to find the fresh ginger that I missed the first pass. Oh, and don't get me started on not being able to find the green onions. The Friendliest Stores in Town? Maybe I would know that if I had actually found someone to help me. Just so you know, there is a wall aisle completely hidden from the rest of the produce section where they keep the green onions. Once I actually successfully left produce, I knew the next few aisles would be where I could find mango chutney. Or so I thought. Finally a stock person told me where I could find it and even escorted me two aisles over to find it. Maybe it was the look of exasperation that told him I was about to lose my flippin' mind. But yes, he was friendly. When I was officially done with my list I realized that I had forgotten the fruit snacks. They weren't on the list. I didn't remember actually being in that aisle so instead of asking I did a pass back through the store. Couldn't find them. They ended up being in the cereal aisle, which makes sense because that's where they are in my usual store. Can I say that while I kept my composure on the outside, I was seething on the inside and felt that my blood pressure had to be high for the moment. Stress over fruit snacks. Stupid.

When all was said and done, I made it home, got the refrigerated and freezer stuff put away before venturing back out for my meeting. I was only 5 minutes late. Kudos to me. But lesson learned, my friends. Apparently, navigating through a new grocery story proved to be as much challenge as my little heart could manage. Amazing Race is probably not cut out for me, ya think?

What a Difference a Day Makes

As I reached for Elise's little hand to fit snugly into mine leaving Bible study this morning, I glanced over as she eagerly accepted, skipping to the time of my step. I smiled back at her, thankful that she still embraces the public affection and declaration that she and I belong together.

Yet each passing day reminds me that she is only "mine" for a time. Soon her days will be filled with full time school, friends, after school activities and boys and you will find my name at the bottom of her priority list. God was really smart when he designed children to grow up slowly, gradually, and over 18 years. Can you imagine us humans weaning our babes and  pushing our babies out of the nest in the first 2 months? It would never happen. Never.

It's also in God's grander plan that the steps are baby ones along the way. Those milestones are God's way of telling us as parents to back down just a bit and allow those same metaphoric baby's wings to stretch to prepare for flight.

Our household is no different than any other with a preschooler living in our midst. She's graduated from the diapers, the crib and high chair -- and most recently her toddler bed. That was my first "aha" moment this year. After spending a week refurbishing old furniture to become her new furniture and creating a "big girl room" she slept in her new room for the first time January 1. Along with the toddler bed, the rocking chair that adorned the room was cast aside.  It didn't seem to "fit" in the scheme of her grown up room.  Though surprising to many, Tony and I still rocked Elise each night, with her taggie blanket firmly in her right hand. The said rocking never lasted more than one minute, maybe up to five if she was feeling particularly needy. I imagine the rocking was more symbolic than practical at this point, still clinging to a routine that was familiar and comforting. When I told her we would have to go into the playroom to use the rocking chair, she said that was OK. She didn't need to be rocked anymore. My heart strings pulled just a little knowing that the last time I had rocked her was, well, the last time.

All these little transitions were going smoothly and I felt surprisingly OK with my little girl suddenly being a bigger girl. It reminded me of Adam several years earlier making those same changes and also being so excited about them. I suppose it's because I was taking all this is stride that it caught me off guard when she announced along with the rocking chair, she no longer needed to sleep with her taggie blanket. "OK, honey. If you say so." I told her several hours before bedtime. I didn't believe her. Her taggie was to her what an imaginary friend or a favorite stuffed animal is to another child. It was a part of her. From early morning until bedtime her taggie was by her side from the time she was old enough to consciously make it part of her day.

It was while Adam was in his second year of preschool that I received this blanket as a gift from his preschool "assistant" Diane. Her mother had lovingly hand made a blanket adorned with tags of different textures, patterns and colors. This was a phenomenon I had known nothing about but has since gained its popularity here in town.  Diane presented it to me and I treasured it in her first year, laying it along side her in the crib. When she grew old enough to choose it as a "lovey" she did. Much to my chagrin, it would follow her all day like a faithful companion. It only left the house to go to the hospital with her when she had rotovirus and was very ill, when she had surgery to remove her adenoid and tonsils, and when we travelled out of town. Otherwise, in the interest of not losing it, it stayed in the house. I even scrap booked a page about her blanket, mentioning the one particular tag that Elise seemed to be drawn to. As far back as we can recall, Elise would turn her blanket around in the dark, searching for the one tag that brought her comfort. She would take that particular tag between her thumb and index finger and stroke it as she fell asleep. On more than one occasion, I would check on her at find her taggie still clutched to her heart.

When she publicly declared her independence of her taggie, I didn't believe my ears. I blew off her warning because I knew better. This was one habit not easily broken. But to my consternation and to our utter shock and amazement, she planted that taggie at the foot of her bed at bedtime and snuggled in to sleep that first night without batting an eye.  And there it stayed, night after night, tucked into the foot board like a discarded toy. Tony and I had more than one conversation that week feeling like we needed to intervene. This was her baby and being a big girl didn't mean she had to give it up. My heart sank. Night after night I would kiss my girl good night and find her taggie in the same position as the night before. No amount of coaxing could convince my independent daughter that it was OK for her to still want her taggie.

The blanket has only moved twice since that time. When her new bedding finally arrived, she placed her taggie on top of the shelf with her well-loved stuffed animals. But when her reconditioned night stand was finished behind the other furniture and placed in her room only two nights ago, she moved her taggie to its final resting place. It sits on the bottom shelf of the night stand, neatly folded. Not used anymore but at least still in view and, in her view, a place of honor.

I guess this is the start of many "aha" moments for me that my little girl is growing up. I guess I don't want to take any experience for granted anymore though. I never realized before what a difference a day makes.

Confessions of a Novice Cook

I think I established in a previous blog that I don't make New Year's Resolutions. I have aspirations one might say. Things that I would like to do differently, more efficiently or just plain better. Cooking is one of those things. Over the years I think I have become a good cook but certainly not a great one. Until I got married I had only made a handful of actual meals. It wasn't until my last name changed by marriage and I became a full time family of 4 that I realized things had to change. Never mind me. I had made do over the years but my husband and two boys had to eat.

As good as my mom was at being a cook, she wasn't a varied one. I could probably take 10 minutes and write down all the recipes she made while I was growing up. Once I got married, I probably asked for a handful of those recipes, but honestly, after eating them for so many years, there weren't too many I wanted.  So I launched into my year-long quest to establish myself as a cook. I subscribed to Quick Cooking (the best kind for a full time employee with a full time family of 4) and began to cook away. Every night I would lovingly prepare a new recipe to be met with a thumbs up, thumbs down, or in our lingo, a do over or never again status. My grateful husband's accolades were often countered by my exceptionally picky step sons' dislikes. It was after our first wedding anniversary when I remember Brandon looking at his beef stew with the most perplexed look on his face.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Beef Stew." I answered. "Why"

"We've HAD this BEFORE" , he said in disgust. It was in that moment that I realized that maybe it was time to close the magazine and start making something for a second or third time. I was creating monsters. Clearly.

Here I am 12 years down the road and it's only in the last 2 1/2 years that I have re-opened cooking magazines -- this time Cooking Light and Family Circle recipe inserts -- to expand my cooking horizons. Time to take my 2 inch cooking binder of typed recipes divided by category, and start updating my cooking. Not that any one's complaining. Over the years I've kept my cooking fresh and new and, honestly, I have so many recipes I could probably go a full two years without ever having to repeat a dish.  But in the last few years Tony's cholesterol has elevated and both of us have had to watch our calories a little more than in past years. Something about being 40....blah, blah, blah.

Like I said, I'm a good cook, but not a great one. Friends will post statuses and links to these fabulous sounding dinners and amazing desserts and I realize I want to be better. Sure, I make some fancy sounding dinner at times And they are good. I make some mean mashed potatoes, awesome asparagus.. And my chicken tenders--the best I've ever tasted. But I realize I could be better. I want to use more varied vegetables and learn to make those fancy dishes I read about. And that is where my New Year's Aspirations kick in.

Tonight, leeks are on the menu. Potato and leek soup actually. Give me bok choy, eggplant, or a spaghetti or acorn squash, I'm your girl. But until this week, if you had handed me a leek, I would have asked you what it is and what do I do with it. Yes, leeks. It's what's for dinner.

Wish me well in the kitchen, please. I sliced the tip of my pointy finger tonight chopping the potatoes. A few months ago it was my pinkie finger. I have serious issues with knives.  A knives safety class might be a really smart part of my 2010 cooking adventure. Stay tuned!