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Loading ...Archive for May, 2008
Green Eggs and Ham
I said, “I do not like Green Eggs and ham
I do not like them with the fam
I do not like grilled asparagi
And steak and pizza and apple pie
I do not like them with a fork
I do not like them – you’re a dork.
I do not like Green Eggs and Ham
I do not like them with the fam.”
Keith said “Try them. You will see.
How good aparagi can be
And steak and pizza and apple pie
You will like them – so will I.”
So I tried them Mother’s Day
And added Romaine – ohhhh, say
It was soooo good
I wolfed a bowl
And left the table very full.
I do like the Green Eggs, you see
And all they cook for the fam and me
I do like the heat to stay outdoors
And cooking spills kept off my floors.
I do like Green Egss with the fam
I bet I would like Green Eggs with ham.
Have you ever heard of the Big Green Eggs – gynormous ceramic cookers for smoking, grilling and baking? Me neither – till Keith watched one too many cooking shows. He’s wanted one for years and finally got one yesterday at an EggFestival in Austin. Big Green Eggs are basically a cult following for many, with user boards, cooking competitions, websites, cookbooks and fanatics who travel cross-country from EggsFest to Eggfest.
For Mother’s Day lunch, we had steak, asparagus and Romaine (yes – lettuce), all grilled on the Egg, plus a few more mundane items done inside. Keith brushed the Romaine leaves with olive oil and spices before a quick grilling and omigosh, ithey were so good. Reminded me of the wilted lettuce my mom used to make. For dinner – baked pizza and…..
….baked apple pie (Thanks, Hannah!), served on my new plates from Keith. Because you can never have too many plates. At least that’s what I think. The girls groan at my dish weakness, and try to shoo me past store displays. Keith is more tolerant of my addiction.
Hannah, Lois and Julia all feted me with wrapped gifts. Rachel, however, threw a pack of gum my way, and composed this…ummm… “poem.” The rose is courtesy of Hey Jude, Sarah, Eileen and Loreli, who sent me the most lovely bouquet.
Happy Mother’s Day!
Posted in 
Standing
How many bottlrd of Dr. Pepper are required for seven middle school boys and one leader for Friday night – Sunday morning? The answer: Several. And snacks. Don’t forget the snacks. Our kitchen island was covered, with more on the dining room buffet. The faces of Little Debbie and the Pringles man were everywhere, as the boys stood grazing through the snacks.
Blake – the handsome Little Leaguer standing above – made the mistake of going to sleep first Friday night. His thoughtful friends borrowed Lois’ nail polish to decorate his toenails. Saturday night – they did his fingernails. Regretfully, the nail polish remover was…ummm….”misplaced.”
What do seven middle school boys and their leader eat for breakfast? Two lbs. of bacon, three lbs. of sausage, three sticks of melted butter. one gallon of chocolate milk and innumerable waffles and pancakes. Hard to stand up after that!
Bible lessons centered on Proverbs 4:23 – “Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life.” The lessons are designed for the kids – but they made me think as I stood in the kitchen, cleaning up. I always wonder if I have a future son-in-law in the room.
Rachel and Lois were at their own host homes, but met for community service work at Christian Assistance Ministries. The 40+ teens spent 2.5 hours organizing donations of food and clothing for needy San Antonians. Teenagers – organizing and cleaning a room- who knew?!
Between bible lessons and community service work – time for a little wii action. Stand up, boys, and work those nunchucks. Notice Julia, patiently waiting to play the winner – and she beat him.
The highlight of the weekend for me: The Sunday morning debut of the Shearer Hills Baptist Church Youth Ensemble, which has been discussed for months but called to action on Thursday night before Disciple Now started Friday night. Wow – talk about Allegro! All six teens were chairs in UIL region choir last year. I’m partial to the two altos on the right, adding that beautiful harmony. Revelation 14:3 tells us we’ll sing a new song in heaven. That’s a promise I want to stand on – with Keith and our girls right beside me.
Matters of Fact
Last night at Costco, Julia skated up as I was grazing on cheese samples and reached for a bite’o'brie. The sample matron frowned and said, “Not without your mom saying it’s okay.” Julia looked at me – I turned to the matron, raised my hand and said, “That would be me. It’s fine.” Julia grabbed her snack and pushed off on her Heelys, leaving a surprised matron staring at me with eyebrows raised.
After all……how could such a cute little skater girl belong to an old, gray hag like me?
Julia was home less than a week when we went to the pediatrician for a check-up. A friendly mom in the waiting room asked me, “Are you her grandmother?” Ummmm…no. When Keith and I took her to ER last fall, the nurse asked, “Are you mom or grandma?”
Sigh.
Not having Rachel until I was 35, I was used to being the only first grade mom who had trouble getting up from the tiny chairs in the classroom. But now I have AARP offers being delivered with Nick, Jr. magazine.
Baby Rachel’s first picture, almost 17 years ago. Yeah, we looked younger! But as Indiana Jones said, “It’s not the years. It’s the mileage.”
I suppose I should feel badly about having an 8-year-old at age 52. Embarrased maybe. I could dye my hair. Lose 50 lbs. for that new, hip wardrobe. Run to the plastic surgeon in my sports car. Watch endless episodes of “Desperate Housewives.” Try to make myself look 30. Or even 40.
But I don’t feel badly. And I’m not embarrassed. I just am what I am.
I have a good virtual friend from the user boards (Votemom) who also has a 44-year age difference between herself and her two two-year-olds from Russia. She also has three bio teenagers. I know she gets as tired as I do. Sometimes people think she’s crazy, like they do me. And maybe we are. But we agreed: You’re going to be doing something. I mean, your whole life, you’re going to be doing something.
You might as well do something that matters.
So offer me a hand when my joints are creaking after squatting in the school hallway to admire a mural. When you see my gray hair, know that many of them popped up while we fretted about court dates and getting 10 days waived and leaving three kiddos back home. Don’t smirk at my reading glasses – they help me admire those beautiful works of art on our fridge. And know that sometimes, when I’m rocking Julia, I fall asleep, too.
Because I have to be doing something. And to me – those things matter.
