Life Goes On

Where have I been?! Well, typically I get up at 5:30 in the morning to have my steaming hot cup of coffee in peace before the whole house wakes up. During the last school year I had until 7 a.m. to pound away on my computer but THIS YEAR ... my Benjamin, now in middle school, has to wake up at 6:00. Gone are my relaxing mornings and . . . my blogging. I know, I need a new routine -- that doesn't include waking up at 4:30 a.m.! But meanwhile, life has gone on . . .

Here is a sampling of what we have been up to:

My garden is winding down, but the bok choy, arugula, parsley and celery is still going strong.

The bees are put to bed for the winter, and we are hoarding our small honey harvest to try and make it until next summer.

The hens are now all laying. We get 1-5 eggs a day. Helloooooooo Quiche!

My nephew Spencer learned how to walk . . .

The grandkids enjoyed a last northern romp on Gramp's boat (a motorkat) before it headed south for the winter . . .

We saw our last unmarried 'Seinfelder' (long story) tie the knot . . .

(In the photo: The entire Seinfeld Clan L-R: Lori, Jeff, Annie, H.O.G. aka: Bob, Sue, Steven, Tanya, Scott, Victor and me (the photographer) minus 3 -- the two newlyweds, and 'Hand' aka: Jeff Fink, the hand surgeon.)

The Original Seinfelders ... The 'Core Four' minus 'Hand'

We went to a Harvest Party with the classic sack races . . .

and doughnut on a string eating contests . . .

Note to self: avoid the powdered sugar doughnuts-on-a-string . . .

Ripley turned 5, and we threw a party . . .

on Halloween, so it was a costume party!

Later that day, we celebrated Halloween . . . it had been a full day for the chicken . . .

Here is a picture of the chicken in better spirits . . .

Ripley learned how to Rollerblade . . . it took him all of 5 minutes to be on his own . . .

Ripley completed his first Soccer Season, words cannot express how this kid can excel at sport. It's borderline embarrassing. But as his parent, it's also thrilling.

And we've enjoyed quieter moments like listening to Daddy reading a book at the end of the day . . .

Be well, and I'll do a better job keeping in touch.

Letting Go

My first born boy. Off to middle school. For the first time he walks to the end of the road to wait for the bus. Because our town is so rural, school buses pick up children at their driveway all the way through elementary school.

Yesterday Ripley and I walked with Benjamin to the bus stop. Today I just let him go. It seems so silly in retrospect, as I walked to school -- a long way -- from 2nd grade on, with my kindergarden aged brother in tow. Crossing streets without crossing guards. So, walking down the street to the bus stop is nothing compared to that. But it's hard for a momma not used to such a thing. Lord, watch over him. Send your angels to protect his path.

Incidentally, yesterday afternoon Benjamin covered his first school book. We did it the old fashioned way with a used paper bag. Half way through Benjamin says, "Mommy why don't we use the ones you buy?" "Awww," I responded "those paper ones always ripped." "Mommy, now they have plastic stretchy ones, or ones that are like felt that stretch and they're really cool." "Oh" I said. "Well, I like the tradition of the old kind anyway ... and then you get to decorate it! That's fun, right?" I'm going to be 42 in September, is it showing yet? Good grief.

For the love of Hens

Come out, come out, wherever you are . . .

Careful now, down you go . . .

My boys are loving their pet hens. We've put up a temporary run for them while we construct a sturdier permanent one. It's been fun to see the hens pecking and scratching, zipping around, and generally acting like chickens.

Benjamin is the chief chicken caregiver. He feeds them, waters them, brings them scraps from the kitchen, picks them up, and lets them out. They are creating quite the bond. It's adorable.

Benjamin holding a New Hampshire Red

Even Ripley has gotten up the nerve to pick them up. When they were little balls of downy feathers, Ripley wanted to pick them up, but after a few neck holding events we had to put a stop to it. Now the hens are large enough to take a little boy handling.

Ripley with a Plymouth Barred Rock

Happy Boys . . .

Happy Hens.

Taking a rest and a dust bath.

They all snuggled up together and fluffed in the leaves, dirt and dust.

Apparently this helps them to prevent or combat any pests and bugs.

All lined up . . . a New Hampshire Red, Plymouth Barred Rock and Rhode Island Red.

Fathers: Invaluable

When Victor and I were married, he became a father. A step-father to my son Benjamin from my first marriage. He embraced his role seriously, enthusiastically and thoughtfully. Victor has been more diligent about going to Benjamin's parent-teacher conferences than he has Ripley's (granted, Ripley is only in preschool). He has in his mind, and knows that one day he will get the push-back from Benjamin in a heated moment, probably in his teens: "But you are not my real dad . . . " He thoughtfully and energetically invests time and demonstrates his love and commitment, assuming that that day will come. I will be forever grateful that Victor has been a reliable, committed, loving father figure who has integrity. 

At the same time Victor and I are positive and supportive of Benjamin's visits with his biological father. Benjamin visits with him on Wednesday nights and every other weekend. It is hard to share your child. But a child psychologist we consulted when my ex-husband was going through his second divorce said that unless a father is dangerous in some way, any short comings are far outweighed by the importance of having a bond with your father -- flaws and all -- knowing that he wants to spend time with you and loves you in the best way he knows how. Fatherhood is powerful, isn't it?

When Ripley was born, Victor was in awe. I don't think he could believe he'd been given such a miraculous blessing. At first, we had both wanted a girl. But when Victor saw this perfect little bundle arrive through the miraculous process called birth, looking so much like himself with his Portuguese skin tone, his long thin legs, his long slender hands, his dark brown eyes and eyelashes, and much to his relief and my disappointment -- my reasonable nose, he was speechless. 

He wouldn't let that baby out of his sight. Victor followed Ripley wherever the nurses or doctors dragged him. Shots. Baths. You name it, Victor followed that bassinet cart and stood outside the door and waited until they brought him his baby back. It was the most precious thing I'd ever seen. 

To me, fathers are teachers and doers, and it is their presence and investment in their children that demonstrates their love. I know my perception is stereotypical, but this has been my experience. While moms are throwing dinner together in the kitchen, it is your father who shows you how to mow the lawn. While Mom is bringing wood in for the stove, Dad is teaching you how to split it and stack it. While I am stressed out thinking of the laundry that needs to be folded, or the floor that needs vacuuming, Victor is at peace spending two hours with the boys outside practicing baseball. Maybe it's that sixth-sense that women have about all that needs to be done, and the absence of that sense that many men have that make them good fathers. While I'm throwing the frisbee to the boys, I may pick up the broom and start sweeping the garage. Not exactly what you'd call "present in the moment". 

Growing up with a house full of boys and a mother who could managed them all, kill a chicken and be a star at the golf club, my father taught me to be a strong self-assured daring woman for my generation. Even though I was a girly-girl and insisted on wearing dresses and skirts that twirled, my father didn't treat me any differently than my younger brother. He taught me to give a firm handshake and look that person right in the eye. I helped mow the lawn and stack wood. He had no interest in a house full of whiners and insisted that we were 'tough'. We painted and schlepped,  sanded and hammered, assisted and cleaned up after him. He taught me to mow without 'holidays', to garden and weed, to churn ice cream and row a boat, roll a sleeping bag and cook bacon, to ski, skate, swim, dive, ride my bike and be brave. While my mother was expressing grave concern on the sidelines during any of our adventures, Dad would say "Ahhhhh, they'll be fine, let them go . . . " He taught me to lick my wound slap a bandaide on it and move on. He taught me the importance of working hard and playing hard. He taught me that you can still be a serious, smart person and occasionally wear a costume. 

Whatever your political views, I think it's hard to disagree with President Obama's thoughts on fatherhood and I applaud him for addressing this important issue. Here is an excerpt from an article he wrote for Parade Magazine this week:

"In many ways, I came to understand the importance of fatherhood through its absence—both in my life and in the lives of others. I came to understand that the hole a man leaves when he abandons his responsibility to his children is one that no government can fill. We can do everything possible to provide good jobs and good schools and safe streets for our kids, but it will never be enough to fully make up the difference.  

That is why we need fathers to step up, to realize that their job does not end at conception; that what makes you a man is not the ability to have a child but the courage to raise one. 

See family photos of Obama  and his daughters

As fathers, we need to be involved in our children’s lives not just when it’s convenient or easy, and not just when they’re doing well—but when it’s difficult and thankless, and they’re struggling. That is when they need us most. 

And it’s not enough to just be physically present. Too often, especially during tough economic times like these, we are emotionally absent: distracted, consumed by what’s happening in our own lives, worried about keeping our jobs and paying our bills, unsure if we’ll be able to give our kids the same opportunities we had. 

Our children can tell. They know when we’re not fully there. And that disengagement sends a clear message—whether we mean it or not—about where among our priorities they fall.  

So we need to step out of our own heads and tune in. We need to turn off the television and start talking with our kids, and listening to them, and understanding what’s going on in their lives. 

We need to set limits and expectations. We need to replace that video game with a book and make sure that homework gets done. We need to say to our daughters, Don’t ever let images on TV tell you what you are worth, because I expect you to dream without limit and reach for your goals. We need to tell our sons, Those songs on the radio may glorify violence, but in our house, we find glory in achievement, self-respect, and hard work. 

We need to realize that we are our children’s first and best teachers. When we are selfish or inconsiderate, when we mistreat our wives or girlfriends, when we cut corners or fail to control our tempers, our children learn from that—and it’s no surprise when we see those behaviors in our schools or on our streets."

As a mother of two boys, I appreciate the knowledge and understanding that my father has about what it means to be a boy. As a grandfather, although he has high expectations for his grandchildren, he also has a lot of understanding and encouragement to offer a mother beside herself wondering how to manage a bright, intense son. He can see through the challenges of youth through to the gifts that will grow into something fabulous. He, like Victor, can't believe that he's been blessed with five beautiful, healthy, bright Grandchildren to teach and "do" life with. And sometimes I think he's speechless when he thinks about the blessing of having raised two children that through thick and through thin, came out wonderfully. I know he's proud. Now, sometimes, we teach him a thing or two. We are thankful for the privilege of having Dads and a "Gramp" who've taken the time to invest in us, love us, support us and actively be there with us as we "do" life. We love you.

A Sleepover Birthday Party

This past weekend Benjamin had his first ever sleepover. It was a belated birthday party celebrating his 10th year. We pitched a three room tent downstairs in our finished basement and told all of the boys to bring their sleeping bags and pillows. What fun!

I've never been much of a babysitter, even when I was 12. And being a single mother for four years probably threw me over the edge. However, one thing I have always loved is hangin' with kids in Junior High and High School. I was a youth leader at my church for about 3+ years and loved it. At 10, Benjamin and his buddies are getting close. They are still a little wild and goofy, but I was able to pull out some old youth leader 'games' to keep things interesting. 

Food and entertainment was a 10 year old's dream come true with take-out pizza, fruit punch, fruit salad, make-your-own-sundae, candy & popcorn. 

For dinner, I made up little chit-chat cards kind of like the "Ungame" in case conversation needed some help. It was a bit one sided so I got out my pile of homemade cards and had each boy take a turn picking a card and answering a question. Such as: 

• Can you touch your tongue to your nose? Answer: No
• Would you rather go sky diving or bungee jumping (or neither)? Answer: Sky Diving
• If you could buy your mom anything, what would you get her? Answer: Infinity Cats
• What is your least favorite chore around the house? Answer: Taking out the trash
• Do you play an instrument? If so, which one? Answer: Yes. Saxophone.
• If you could travel to any country in the world, where would you go? Answer: Madagascar

Yes, the boys are in our dining room, which may seem silly but it's the only table we have (minus the island seating in the kitchen). I kind of like it because we actually use our dining room. As you can see, to conserve my energy level for the event, I caved and used paper plates and each boy got one plastic cup with his name on it. 

We also did the classic ice breaker where each person has piece of paper with a famous person's name written on it, taped to their back. They have to go around the room asking their friends yes or no questions to find out who they are. The incentive was: When you figure out who your person is, you get to pick out which box of candy you want for the movie. I had about 10 different 'movie sized' boxes to choose from. They did fabulously, and for Victor and I, it was hilarious to watch. The names we had were:

• Princess Liea 
• George Washington
• Thomas Edison
• R2D2
• Miley Cirus
• Benjamin Franklin

After dessert, we started a typical youth leader type game where I broke the boys up into two teams of three, gave each team a ream of paper and two rolls of masking tape, and told them that they had 25 minutes to build a structure. The tallest and sturdiest structure wins. They loved it, and it was hilarious to watch. 

The Wild-Crazy and Excitable Team

The Quiet, Methodical, Organized Team

The Quiet Team did change their method part way through, but they worked together and stayed focused the entire time.

The Wild Team had a lot of laughs and changed course throughout the project.

It was a taping, papering extravaganza.

No comments from the peanut-gallery, please.

Needless to say, the quiet methodical team won.

The unwrapping.

One of Benjamin's buddies brought over his Wee Game.

Another buddy brought over his extra controllers, so four kids could play at one time.

It was the most, errrr . . . excitable part of the evening. 

They had the chance to vote (secret ballot) on their choice for a movie to make it fair. It was between Star Wars I, The City of Ember and Back to the Future I. It was close, but Star Wars I won. Which of course, they'd all seen before. 

I was exhausted. We got everyone pajama'ed and bagged in the tent by 10:45 pm,  quietly talking and behaving themselves nicely. I finally had to go to bed because I was falling asleep on the couch upstairs waiting for the boys to settle down. Victor said he'd take the night shift and finally was able to go to bed himself at 1 a.m. 

In the morning I made pancakes, bacon and fruit salad for the boys. I think I'm out of shape as a youth leader. Or gee, maybe I'm just getting . . . old. I was exhausted and crabby. I felt like I'd pulled an all-nighter in college followed by a night of partying. It took me two days to recover. The good news is, all of the boys had a great time, no fights broke out, no one wanted to go home in the middle of the night, and we returned all boys to their parents the next day in one piece! 

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!