Where to begin?

It was a lovely summer. We have been away all summer, removed from wifi, facebook, cable t.v. (we receive one network channel and one PBS channel via rabbit ears), shopping, highways, schedules and the rat-race. June and July were rainy, as in record breaking rainy. But finally when August rolled around, the sun decided to come out and we made the most of it. Here are some highlights to get you (and me) back up to speed:

Our Beautiful Summertime Seaside Town

Blowing Bubbles Late into the Night

Chatting by the Bonfire . . . Spontaneous Evenings

Life Long Friends Going For a Sail

Teaching the Small Ones

A Handsome Boy Embracing his Boyhood

Friends on a Rock

Wine after a day's Festivities

(and lessons on the decision to stick your tongue out at the camera)

Beauty

Good Clean (wet) Fun

Sailing School End of Season Cookout

Badly Behaving Bees . . . but that's another L O N G story for another day.

Tea

After spending time with a dear Irish friend, my mother gained a new appreciation for Tea. Mom conceived of the idea of teaching her grandchildren a few life lessons about manners through a tea party she decided to throw while we were all down south visiting. Now, I knew my boys wouldn't jump at the chance to go to a tea party ordinarily, but we played up the idea that treats are always part of afternoon tea. 

The 'non-nappers' in the group helped to make the treats. Benjamin was in charge of making the ladybug cookies made out of Nilla Wafers, frosting, mini chocolate chips and Milk Duds.

Aren't they adorable?

The petitfours are simply store bought pound cake drizzled with royal icing made with lemon juice. Yum.

Rosalie and Tanya were in charge of the mini cupcakes -- a classic.

I couldn't help but decorate a few things . . . 

Both of the teas we offered were caffeine free, of course. 

'Grandma-ma' gave an overview of the manners. Such as: pulling out a chair for a lady, saying please, thank you and no thank you, keeping your elbows off the table and putting your napkin in your lap. I am a very down to earth type of gal, but I think it's a good thing to know . . . as I tell Benjamin, "You never know when you'll have the opportunity to be invited to the White House!"

Auntie Tanya and Grandmama gave instructions on how to take a ladies arm. 

Rosalie and Benjamin

Isn't our display lovely?

'Gramp' and Victor hammed up their jobs as servers of tea and treats. 

Reese doing a fabulous job sipping his tea.

'Gramp' and Victor serving treats.

After the TEA, all of the Grandchildren were anxious to have their next tea!

(That may have been partly to do with the fact that really, it's like having dessert before dinner!)

After the Tea Party, the children hosted their 2nd Gallery Night -- having so much fun throwing their first ever Gallery Night. Here are the greeters Reese and Ripley offering us some sparkling water. Too much!

An Imperfect Mother

Benjamin and I had a tough morning yesterday. He woke up and although he was very helpful (doing his chores from the revived job list) he was in a 'challenging' mood. Instead of doing what I asked of him right away, he would give me twelve reasons why he couldn't. He argued with me at every turn. He was flat out disrespectful. 

I am generally pretty firm. I will stand my ground and explain that he needs to do as I ask, etc., etc. But yesterday morning as I stood firm and held my ground, things were falling apart. He wouldn't cave. Arguing. More arguing. I spoke to him in a calm but firm voice. When he was explosive or disrespectful (arguing) I told him to remove himself and go to his room. But it was a mess. In spite of all of my best efforts, I failed. In the end, he flipped out and had a meltdown like he was five. Finally, we were able to talk. But it was like talking in front of a horrific car accident on the side of the road.

I love my boy. He is so talented. He has so many things to offer. He is intense. Bright-eyed. Fun. And hard to parent. What is a mother to do? Should I have backed off? Disrespectful behavior (raising your voice and sarcastic facial expressions) towards your mother seems like a dangerous thing to 'let slide' with a strong willed child on the cusp of teenagerhood. How do you guide such a child? How do you show them what won't be tolerated without allowing things to escalate?

How do you make certain you don't squash his vibrancy, but also insist that he obey and respect and take responsibility for his actions (the bad-behavior actions)?

Just look at him. He is so expressive and vivacious. 

And I love him so.

Reese Bowen

My nephew Reese celebrated his 3rd birthday last weekend. At some point during his short 3 years of life Reese developed a love for music and the guitar in particular. For well over a year now he's been "playin' the air guitar" to music. For his third birthday his parents (Scott and Tanya) decided to get him his first guitar. Now, nay sayers may say "geee ... that's early and a little ridiculous" but let me tell you this boy can play. It's truly the cutest thing you've ever seen. Now, I know you may have kids of your own and they are cute and all, but Reese playing his brand new guitar took the cake. The most amazing thing was, he picked up the guitar and held it like he's had 5 years of lessons. He strums both with and without the pick, rests the guitar on his knee like an expert and he's trying his darnedest to figure out what cords are all about. Did I mention he sings while he plays? I'm telling you -- cute!

Reese Bowen in his Daddy Scott Bowen's lap

Reese with cupcakes

(Incidentally, Tanya and I both received cupcake trees from my mother for Christmas. At the time it struck me as the oddest gift, but let me tell you Tanya and I have both gotten a ton of use out of ours -- and don't they look festive?)

There is my little Superman Ripley overseeing the opening of presents. 

I must say I am a fan of the old fashioned tradition of opening birthday presents at the party in front of your guests that took time out to select something special for the occasion. Hauling them away in a bag in front of all of the little children who helped pick out the gifts just seems uncivilized. I don't mean to be too harsh, and I know that some birthday 'locations' insist, but my boys have been devastated at the sight of it on many occasions -- and they're pretty tough. Yes, sometimes it can be mayhem but these are life lessons, right? It kind of reminds me of sporting / school events where everyone gets a trophy or a medal. How are our children going to learn the joy and disappointment of competition? In life, some people are 'first' and some people aren't. "I'm sorry Mr. Brown, only one person can fill this position sir. I'm sorry you just didn't get the job and I don't have a token medal for you to take home."

I digress.

Happy Birthday Reese. You are adorable. Keep playin'.

My Almost Ten Year Old

Yesterday, out of the blue Benjamin comes up to me while I was sewing cushions for our church's youth group room and said "Mommy, can I start tucking myself in at bedtime? I feel a little baby-ish." 

With a sad puppy-dog face on I said "But you are my baby boy." As I pulled him onto my lap and half-kiddingly started to cradle his long body.

"Ripley is your baby boy." He states.

"But you are my first born baby boy."

"I'm not a baby anymore." Benjamin tells me.

"You're not my little chick?" I ask. (We've been talking a lot about chickens recently)

"No. Mommy, I'm turning into a rooster."

I thought that was the cutest thing I'd ever heard.

I still tucked him in last night though. 

What is going on?!

"Why is there a screen in our front yard?!" you ask. Well, that is an excellent question. 

The answer:  Leprechauns. 

Benjamin has been chatting it up with his friends about Saint Patrick's Day at school. He learned that Leprechauns enter your house through a high open window, so you have to leave your window wide open on Saint Patrick's Day eve. He learned that you set your shoes out underneath  your bed and the Leprechaun fills them with money, and that Leprechauns make a mess out of your house turning everything up on end looking for green items and gold. "Terrific" I thought. Just what I need . . . another 'holiday' or event where parents have to tippy-toe into their children's rooms to leave a coin all the while trying not to wake them up . . . worse than the tooth fairy, this guy makes a mess of your house, and you have to leave a window open in the middle of March?! I joked with Benjamin that I might put up a sign telling the Leprechauns not to come into our house. They sounded like a lot of work. Victor stated that he was not in favor of letting the Leprechaun in.

At just past midnight on Saint Patrick's Day Benjamin races into our bedroom, flicks on the over head light and comes over to the side of our bed with eyes as big as saucers and a look on his face that tells me he's expecting to get punished. 

"Benjamin. It's the middle of the night man. What IS it?" I ask.

"I was trying to make sure the Leprechauns could get into the house, so I opened my window and the screen -- BUT THE SCREEN FELL OUT! Like, the screen is ON THE GRASS!"

Good grief, I'm thinking to myself. You've got to be kidding. "Benjamin, please, just go back to bed." 

He looks at me as if to say "YEAH, but the screen!!"

"Benjamin. To bed. You're going to be a crab tomorrow. I love you. Please go to bed!"

He walks out.

About a half hour later, I could swear that through my eyelids I'm seeing light every now and then. Clumping sounds. Now what?!  "Benjamin! What is going on dude?" 

Benjamin comes out from underneath our bed with his clock in hand that lights up when you press the LIGHT button. I'm in utter disbelief.  "What are you doing?!" I ask.

"I'm pretending to be a leprechaun."

Benjamin is under our bed filling our shoes with money that the errrrrr . . . Leprechaun . . . had left in more sensible, less risky places around the house like in the hallway! 

"Benjamin, TO BED. I love you. Go."

I felt bad for the guy. I felt bad that the 'leprechaun' hadn't fully embraced the holiday and Benjamin felt like he had to take up the slack. It won't be long before my soon-to-be ten year old . . . stops, you know. 

For now, I will look back sweetly at being woken up twice after midnight for 9 year old shenanigans. 

The Love of a Mother

Joan and Bill in Egypt

My parents just returned from a trip to Egypt. (Yes, they arrived two days after the terrorist attack on the market in Cairo.) It was on their "bucket list" (things to do before you 'kick the bucket') and apparently had an incredible time. That is my Momma sitting on top of the camel, my Dad is holding the, er . . . harness? rein?

They are "snowbirds" so we see them rarely throughout the winter. Sometimes we are able to visit with Dad on the weekends when he's up north "taking care of business". But mostly, we chat on the phone and through emails. (My father BTW is an avid (closet) LoveCookCreateKnit reader, one of my biggest fans and encouragers.) Knowing that they were away, and I was unable to pick up the phone and call them on a whim (even though we are not a must call every day type family) I missed them . . . especially since they were in a dangerous part of the world. I spoke with my mother on the phone yesterday morning after I'd received this photo on my cellphone with a note that they'd just returned the night before. We spoke briefly, but then she had to sign-off abruptly -- before hanging up she said "I love you Baby Girl." At the ripe age of 41+ my heart melted -- I can't remember the last time my mother called me Baby Girl, but I felt just like a 3 year old snuggled up in her mother's arms. It was a good thing. We are always and forever our mother's babies. We came out of their womb and nothing can change that. 

My mother always said about growing up that even though she and her family went through many trials (not the least of which was losing her father to a heart attack when she was eleven) one thing she always knew was that she was loved. And she has carried on that tradition to me. One goal that I had when I became a mother was to be sure that my children knew that I loved them. Lord knows I fail. Lord knows I've made wrong decisions in my parenting. Lord knows I have yelled at my dear children. But I am certain that my boys know they are loved. "And above all things have fervent love for one another, for 'love will cover a multitude of sins' " 1 Peter 4:8, reference Proverbs 10:12

Just two nights ago at the dinner table Benjamin was complaining that he felt he was getting a fever. I kissed his forehead and it was as cold as a cucumber, and I told him so. He continued to put on a forlorn face, so I half teasingly asked him to come on over here and I'd rock him like a baby. That 9+ year old boy hopped up at the chance and sat right in my lap and I held him and gave him a big snuggle. We were playing around a little bit, but Benjamin was loving every minute of it. Victor (a big tease) went to get the camera, and Benjamin immediately dashed from my lap. But when the teasing was over, he came back to sit in his mommy's lap. There is nothing like the love of a mother. 

A Day of Winter in New England

Well, we ended up with about eight inches of snow. It would have been a lot more if we hadn't gotten an inch or two of sleet at the front end of the storm. I love a snow day. There is something so surprising and exciting about it. It's like a favorite visitor that comes from out of town by surprise. Your whole routine is thrown out the window and suddenly there are all kinds of fun things to do. This surprise visit was a little bittersweet though. We had just gotten rid of our blanket of snow that had covered our grass, gardens, sidewalks, playgrounds (Benjamin's school won't allow the kids to play on the playground until the snow is gone!) all winter long. For us here in Southeastern New England, this is rare. Usually our snow sticks around for a few days and then melts into a slushy mess, then goes away. I know, we should probably count ourselves fortunate. I digress . . .

The boys played outside on three separate occasions. Suiting up in snow pants, hats, mittens, scarves, and heading out. They made a lame attempt at shoveling. Tried to sled around the house. Played in the woods. Later in the day, some neighborhood kids came over to play. The kids has a great time flying down the slide on our swing set over and over and over again. Just good clean fun. 

Here and there throughout the day I made Kale Soup, Granola and a new recipe for healthy granola bars that of course I altered slightly (I'll share that with you later). At one point, I suited up, went outside and started to shovel our driveway. We have never purchased a snowblower or paid to have our driveway plowed. We don't have an especially long driveway, but it's long enough. Usually (since we've been married) this is Victor's job. But, he was not coming home until late (dinner meeting) so I decided I'd give him the gift of my hard labor. It was heavy snow because of the sleet we recieved at the start of the storm, so by the time I reached the road I had a lot of respect for my husband! No exercise or "toning" needed today Sole Sisters! 

We wrapped up the day with some Little House in the Prarie. 

Earlier in the day there was a classic lesson in parenting for me. Whew. It was rough. Benjamin had gone into the garage, pulled out a sled and accidentally made all of the skis fall onto the ground that had been leaning up against the wall. Then, he left it all there - in a heap for the "maid" to clean up. (Just a guess.) When I peeked my head outside to talk to the boys and noticed the large mess I called Benjamin in to the garage and told him to clean up the mess. Benjamin proceeded to have a meltdown. He didn't understand why he had to pick up the mess. I went through the basic explaination. Gee, who did you think was going to clean up the mess? Did he have a personal maid that came along and cleaned up after him? If Mommy accidentally knocked all of the skis down, I'd clean up after myself. Just because it was an accident doesn't mean you are off the hook. He melted down and had a tantrum. Yes indeed. At the age of 9+. "I can't do it!" "I need help!" Tears, the flapping of arms, the whole bit. Understand that the boy skis. He knows how to handle skis and how to stack them (like when you're going in for lunch). He just didn't want to do it. I held my ground and finally (after going out for a third time to tell him to get going on the clean-up) explained that as a consequence of not listening to his Mommy, he would have to spend the remainder of his day in his room. Then I left and went back inside. It's in these moments where you question if you're being unreasonable, too strict . . . if you should just cave and help the poor dude out. But, I decided to stick with it. And you know what, in very short order I saw Benjamin romping around in the back woods (lamenting a little bit). I checked the garage, and he'd done a fabulous job. After a little while, when I saw him back in the front yard again, I told him that he'd done a terrific job. But, damn, he sure did give me a run for my money. Sheesh. Parenting is not easy, even if you feel like you're doing the right thing -- it's tough. 

The rest of our day was as smooth as silk. 

For all of you moms out there . . .

For all of you moms out there struggling to balance the things on your to do list, your interests and quality time with your children, I encourage you to take a peak at Raingarden's Tuesday post. I've been "munching" on it ever since I read it. It's so honest, thoughtful, poignant, practical and brilliant. Take a look: HERE.