Dear Lord, thank you for cupcakes

The world is quiet and still, covered in the cool darkness that has yet to make way for a new day. The blanket of air hangs low and moist.
With a sweet trill a symphony of birds awakens the dawn.
The grass is wet with dew soaking lightly into my shoes as I turn my face up to the warm sunshine.
 Dear Lord, thank you for silence.

A raucous commotion of small voices reaches me as each running step brings me closer to home.
Panting, trying to catch my breath two of my children compete to be heard.
A few shouts of dolls verses car and something to do with a card become a distant din as I push past
them into the small space we call home.
A tug of war ensues, ending with a victor and some tears.
Crying, red eyes bring me into the present.

Dear Lord, give me patience.

The house becomes like a hive with small bodies multiplying by the minute.
More arrivals, 6 bowls of cereal, milk on the floor, school lunches and homework fly about in a flurry.
Shouts, pouting and a epic battle about wearing a jacket.
One pep talk, one stern reprimand, one angry face and one reluctantly worn jacket.
A knock on the window to warn that I can see the jacket being stuffed into a bag.
Stomping steps off to school that I hope will stop, look and listen before they meet traffic.

Dear Lord,  help her understand.

Bottles, blankets, stenches, diapers, nap times, crying, crafts and colouring.
Accidents, bath times, carpet cleaning, phone ringing and ringing, waking children.
Clenched teeth saying, no not interested, cranky crying and lack of napping.
Cold, late lunch scarfed down quickly.
Toys like a contagion, sharp on my heel.

Dear Lord, get me through this day.

Homework, fighting, absolutely no television, cleaning messes, prepping dinner.
Crash course in math, chicken burning.
No more juice or snack or belly-aching.
Laundry stacked up to the ceiling.
Getting ready for each lesson. Pack the bags, and get them ready.
Set the table, salvage dinner.

Dear Lord, give me strength.


One small head cries it's my turn.
Replacement prayer for God is great, Amen becomes
 two minutes of 2 1/2 year old gratitude for parties, and sisters and cupcakes and people and most of all especially Lord for cupcakes, a few more mumbled phrases.
Laughter bubbling. Prayer's not over. More and more about those cupcakes.
Everyone looks up with laughter in their eyes, and enthusiastic amens.

Dear Lord, you give good gifts.

The sky is awash in brilliant colours as the sun dips below the horizon.
Warm water cascades over my skin as I wash and quietly ponder.
I store the left- overs in our full fridge which reminds me of my full belly.
I can hear the absence of conflict, the quiet steady rhythm of children mouth breathing happily in front
 of the television.
There are bath times, stories, a few quiet giggles and the
Warm arms wrap around my neck and squeeze with love.
I inhale deeply that scent of freshly washed cherub.
Quiet steals over the house as I take one last look at the peaceful, sleeping, even breathing of my angels.
I am blessed with abundance. My cup runneth over.

Dear Lord, help me to remember that you have given me so much.

I sink down on the couch, soft and inviting.
The crisp evening air is wafting in through the window as a pleasant breeze.
Crickets chirp happily in the protection of my flower garden.
The quiet hum of a lawn mower nearby signals the end of another day.
 I hold a rainbow sprinkle encrusted, icing laden confection.

Dear Lord, most of all thank you for cupcakes.

Boys will be boys!

In keeping with all the other men in my life, my son Aiden  also shares the "abhhors-shopping gene".  3 pairs of pants into a back to school shopping trip and he was whining "I'm really tired!"
Seriously? 3 pairs of pants and he's "exhausted."  And the thing is he looked exhausted. He looked like I'd kept him up all night and then asked him to run a marathon. After trying on 3 pairs of pants!  Which I was doing most of the work for!! All he had to do was lift his legs!!!!

 He of course inherited this from his father without the benefit of the sage wisdom learned from years of experience. This wisdom being that if it can't be avoided the next best course of action is saunter silently - albeit sulkily- nearby.

My concession is that I power shop.  I selected, dressed, sifted, re-hangered and purchased 5 pairs of pants in 30 minutes.  We all suffered but only briefly.

There aren't too many boys in my immediate family that I have been able to observe growing up, and so many of the things that I'm learning are "typical growing boy" behaviour continually astonish me.
His appetite for one thing.  When he is eating something that he likes he can easily clear 4 helpings. And yet - he's skinny as a beanpole. Just dense. Our grocery bills are growing exponentially in direct correlation to his appetite and he's only 5!

He wants to hit, kick and punch everything, and not just when he's angry. It's his default reaction to everything. Happiness, excitement, fear, anger, sadness.  I cringe to think of the day when he's a teenager and I am trying to discipline him while he towers over me and probably outweighs me twice over.  We might need to invest in a punching bag sooner than later.

His obsession with kinex, lego, building blocks, sticks, rocks, cars, action figures, and pretty much little pieces of anything.  He has one of the aforementioned in his hands at all times!!!
All the time. If we didn't take them away he'd shower and sleep with them.  I just don't get it.

Ahhh, but my little man with his dimples and baby blues. I cannot imagine my life without him. Screaming drop kicks, 4 bowls of cereal and all.  He's my little charmer.

People who have experience raising boys just smile and shake their heads when I express my shock, confusion and wonder.  "Boys will be boys." as the expression goes.

I'm learning, and looking forward to many more.

Years that is . Not boys. Please no more boys. One is perfect!

    

Twi-hard

Confession # 15: I've become a Twi-hard.

 I'm deeply ashamed of this one, but there is no denying it.

Somehow, when Stephanie Meyer's Twilight saga first erupted onto the landscape of popular culture I was too busy playing Mommy to get sucked into the fascination.  I figured it to be a teen fad and paid it no attention. But recently, when my oldest daughter brought home the first book of the Twilight series from the school library I was alarmed. My mommy instincts told me I couldn't ban it out right if  I didn't know what it was about, but I didn't feel comfortable just allowing her to read it for the same reason.

So there it sat, this tantilizing piece of un-read literature. How could I allow such a thing to occur under my roof.  A book I had not read? Un-acceptable!  And thus it began. I started reading the book with the sole purpose of educating myself on what my daughter was about to expose herself to and to determine whether or not it would pass the standards of my mommy filter. But I got sucked in.  Like a strong under-current, before I realized what was happening I was pulled down deep and held there. I devoured that book.  I couldn't put it down.  It was done in 2 days, and I was kicking myself for not placing a hold on the rest of the series at the local library sooner. I had to wait 3 agonizing days for the rest of the series to become available. I foolishly under-estimated my obsessive tendencies when it comes to books I am enjoying and rationalized that it would take a while to digest each volume.   I was wrong. I finished the series in just under a week and proceeded to subject my husband to the first three movies. (Did I mention the part about marrying a saint?  He's definitely keeper that one! )  He endured it valiantly until sucumbing to sleep and while the movies were not nearly as compelling as the novels, it happened.  Inexplicably, I loved the books, the movies less and I became twi-hard.

 Ugggh!!! It almost causes me physical pain to write that.

I'm actually plotting who I can take to see Breaking Dawn: part 1 due in theatres this November. I'm not dis-illusioned enough to believe that Tony will allow me to drag him into a public venue to see this movie so I'm thinking of a willing girlfriend. I'm coming up blank. I'm not beyond going by myself. Late at night. Maybe in disguise. But I'm going to see it!  Volunteers to accompany me are welcome! 

Which brings me to another confession hopefully my last for a while because I can almost feel you thinking less of me as a person. Can the damage get any worse. Oh it can.

This confession is comorbid with the twi-hard thing. They are sister vices. Cause and effect if you will.

Confession # 15:  I had a cougar moment.

And I do say MOMENT.  As in it didn't last and I hope never to visit that moment again. EVER.

As a direct result of watching the Twilight saga movies, I had a brief lapse in judgement. 

Let me also put in this disclaimer: before the second week of September (2011) I had no idea who Kristen Stewart,  Robert Pattinson and Taylor Lautner were.

(For anyone not familiar with these names they are the actors who played the lead roles in the Twilight movies).  I think I had probably seen their faces on supermarket tabloids when the Twilight movies first exploded but I didn't pay much attention.

   What struck me after watching the movies was how well they had cast the part of Jacob Black. In my humble opinion Jacob was the dominant character in the book series, and I loved that character! I was so drawn in by this character which fascinates me as both a reader and writer. I am still trying (as a writer) to wrap my brain around how to make a fictional character that appealing. 

Even more surprising to me was how well they cast the part in the movie.

  Having watched many movies based on books I am often disappointed with how the characters are cast. I find more often than not, either the actors are physically not a match to the character in the book (which takes away from the overall performance and feel of the movie) or they do not manage to capture the essence of what the character is about.  Granted, I'm not an actor and I'm sure it's not the easiest thing to translate.

Going in with this prejudice I did not expect any of the actors to match my expectations of the characters (having read the books first) when I watched the movies.

  I was pleasantly surprised to find that Taylor Lautner was the exception. He seemed to fit the character of Jacob Black perfectly, physically (which is another story altogether) and in his portrayal of his personality.  He exuded Jacob and by virtue of transferrance, because I loved Jacob Black I loved Taylor Lautner.  And I couldn't place his age.  He seemed quite young in the first movie and quite a bit older in the second. I wasn't sure how much time elapsed between the filming of the first and second movies, but I didn't think it was a lot of time.  His voice inflections said young, his face and body said older.   I should have just left it there. Read the books. Watched the movies. Done.

Move on.

  But I couldn't leave it alone. Morbid curiosity drove me to look up a few articles on the movie and the actor.  Mr. Lautner was 15 in the first installment of the Twilight series. This made sense, and was in keeping with the character's age in the book.  Not having followed it, I figured he was probably 3 years older in the next ones.  I almost choked when I discovered the next installment was filmed the next year.

He was 16.  With the body of a 25 year old. I mean seriously, he looked like he belonged on a Bow flex commercial.  Ewww. I was revulsed. When did I join cougar town? I briefly admired a 16 year old boy!

(As an added disclaimer the whole werewolf story line meant that the actor spent most of two movies not wearing a shirt.)   I'm trying really hard to justify this ... can you tell? It's just so horrible, I can't help myself.

 In additional defence of myself I was honestly also fascinated as I read about how Taylor Lautner managed to gain 30 pounds, grow 3 inches and become exactly the physique the director was looking for in the next movie. How many 15 year olds have that kind of will power and dedication?  I read about how his parents picked up and moved from Michigan to LA when it was apparent that Lautner had some acting talent and wanted to pursue it as a career. Barely in highschool.

And then I couldn't believe that he spent the majority of his teen years filming these movies and on a meteoric rise to stardom.  Learning more about the kind of kid he was made me think of my own son. (And let's leave all Freudian references out of this shall we? this is bad enough as it is.)

Would Tony and I as parents sacrifice as much if our son decided he wanted to become an actor? I had a brief discussion with my husband on this. I am undecided. Would I allow my teenage son to give up highschool and his normal life as a teenager to pursue his dream. Even worse (to be become a piece of eye candy to be gawked at by cougar types like me- gag- I swear I didn't know! Oh God isn't that what all pervs say?)  More over, would I uproot my family to allow this?

 This train of thought was only a temporary distraction from the fact that this boy man made me look twice. He's 19 now, which makes me feel less pervy and more cougary to say he's a good looking kid.

I could go on a diatribe about what we as a society are doing to our kids that 15 years olds are looking like 25 year olds. Girls and apparently now guys alike. But I'll leave that for another day.

Suffice it to say I am hoping to leave that horrifying moment behind me. Sadly, in a few years he likely trade that youthful vitality for the haggard, bitter visage of a drug/alcohol abusing celebrity in decline.
Cheers to Taylor Lautner poster-boy for tweens, teens and cougars alike!

"Hi my name is Sarah and I'm a compulsive reader."

Oh dearest blog, non-existant readers and one follower - how I have neglected thee over the last few months!  I offer forth my most profuse apologies.

Confession # 14  I've become a book addict.

Try not to laugh. Addict might sound extreme but it seems the most fitting description. I have read some where in the neighborhood of 19 books in the last two months (at least that's what I can remember, there may have been a handful more in there that I've forgotten).  I was not even mutually exclusive to one author, style or genre. Historical fiction, romance, biography, mystery, suspense. It didn't really matter. I had them all! Sometimes more than one in a day!  Without thinking about the consequences I let the compulsion overtake and consume me these last two months.  Is there a clinic for this? A 12 step program? I'm sure there's a TLC show about this somewhere.

Call it an obsessive compulsive disorder, or the by-product of an addictive personality, but in between work, raising a family and the banal tediums of every-day life I went on a reading frenzy.

  I have yet to come with an explanation for the sudden compulsion that caused me to forsake essentials of human survival such as eating and sleeping to satiate the overwhelming desire to read. To escape into fiction and one very, very funny biography. I had to drag myself into every day life, fighting always the urge to lapse back into whatever piece of literature was nearby.  My husband resigned himself to the television which I'm sure was an interminable hardship for him ( insert sarcasm here) but I credit him for putting up with it.  I do believe I might have married a saint.

I ask you to reserve judgement on what this says about my grip on reality or my personality as a whole.
I think maybe I'm restless. Or crazy. You decide.