Fannee Doolee

Fringe Benefits

Kiki has been solid on potty training all month, but last night, after another read through of "What to Expect When the New Baby Comes Home," she insisted on putting on a diaper, crawled across the floor and said "waa, waa."  Which was fine with me.  I mean, I'd probably be doing the same thing right now if I could get down on all fours.  Fortunately, playing baby lasted for about a minute, then she doffed the diaper, used the potty and jumped right back into her big girl underpants.  Then, we snuggled in bed and traded Eskimo kisses.

More often, Kiki plays Mommy rather than baby.  She says, "Now, I'll be the Mommy and you be the Sweetie."  I never realized how much I call her Sweetie.

Logan has been utterly silent about what goes on at school all day, other than to inform me what school supplies we failed to bring in, or that I forgot to put a note in his lunch, or that I completely botched the pick-up procedure.  However, many questions were answered last night when I attended Curriculum Night at his school.  There are ten kids in Logan's class and two teachers.  Pretty nice ratio, eh?  Right now, they are just focusing on getting routines down and becoming familiar with each other and the school.  (It is a very Earthy-crunchy environmentally-liberal school, by the way, even from our left-leaning perspective.  They compost, have solar panels, and encourage healthy eating and recycling.) 

One of the daily routines is writing a journal entry.  I was very impressed by Logan's writing - he is apparently given no help with spelling or grammar but, rather, encouraged to sound out the words himself.  So, it took me a moment to figure out his second entry, but when I did, my eyes welled up with tears right there in the classroom:

The Strength to Bear It

An leaves for Vietnam tomorrow.   She and I just finished a grueling but invigorating week leading a first grade class through vacation bible school. 

As glorious as our recent role-reversal has been, Patrick and I are still trying to figure out how all the bills will get paid, and adding to that the possibility of the additional considerable expense that comes with our realization that private school may be the best fit for Logan next year. 

Kiki is on the verge of turning three, although some days, it seems more like fifteen. 

Charlotte/Frances/Megan/Lucy/Sophia continues to kick and squirm more tumultuously each day (though none of her pokes and prods give me any indication as to which of the aforementioned name possibilities she prefers - feel free to cast your votes through comments as I am taking all the naming help I can get at this point).

In sum, I am feeling stronger yet more challenged than I have in a long, long time - possibly ever.  I have never wanted to give and do so much for my children--more than I feel I know how to do, and yet, I cannot quite believe that I am bearing as much of this glorious cross I have been given as I have so far. 

I spent much of last night pondering and woke this morning thinking Why?  Why all of this at the same time?  Isn't the challenge of just raising our own two children enough?  Will I really have what it takes to bring a third precious child into this mix without detracting from what I have to give to the others?  Can I possible give An even the tiniest bit of insight to get her through what she must go through this summer and help her to return next fall? 

How would I feel if I were being called upon to do less?  This is certainly not an area in which I'd want to underachieve.  At the risk of sounding like a completely unworthy martyr, I'll share the thought that came to me this morning -- the penultimate scene of the move Schindler's List. 

Schindler saves hundreds of Jews from death during the holocaust, and yet, when it's all over and he looks back on what he's done, all he can think of is why didn't he do more?  Why wasn't he able to save more people?  It certainly was not for want of effort - I won't re-tell the story, but through the tale of this one man who put more than his own life on the line to save others, I realize when you are called upon to do something for the most valuable reason there is, you can't help but yearn to have done more when you finally get to the point of laying down that cross. 

I have always been somewhat of an over-achiever (or at least an over-attempter), and my children mean more than anything to me.  I've known since we first thought of having another baby that I did not want to get to the end of my child-raising years and wonder if we could have had a third.  I also accept that, while I may have doubts in my own abilities, I know I would not be called on to do a job where children are concerned if the Big Boss didn't feel I could handle it.  Now, it's just a matter of convincing myself. 

Daily Sports Highlights

Alternate Title:  She Who Knows Absolutely Nothing About the World of Sports Broadcasting Should Not Attempt Such a Parody . . .

G'day sports fans.  In a re-cap of today's ongoing championship season of the SAHM tournament of life, we saw a rough match between Mommy and the terrible two-some tag-team of Logan and Kiki. 

Mommy, already quite exhausted from her three-hour morning Vacation Bible School exhibition games, in which she led a team of four (two moms and two teen helpers) against 15 first-graders, followed by a transitionless rotation to performing 3 hours of legal research, started off today's match as quite the underdog. 

Logan and Kiki, bursting with energy from an afternoon at the sitter's, hit her straight on with a walk down the block for a pool date combined with two-on-one tandem tantrums over bathing suits and shoes.  After an hour or so of challenging recreational maneuvers, Mommy managed to pull off a tricky distraction technique to get the two tots out of the pool and back home.

But, Team L & K raged back after dinner.  Mommy was forced to retreat into a corner of the kitchen and resorted to the ultimate defense move:  one more showing of the Roley-Poley-Olie video.  She came back fighting after a few short episodes and took the terrible twosome up to the bath time challenge. 

In the tub, it seemed as though all was lost for Mommy.  The L/K team engaged in manipulative splashing, toy bickering and unspecified screaming.  Mommy appeared to scrape together whatever energy she had left and and attempted a firm attack for the final wash-down. 

Logan shot back with verbal punches, promptly echoed by Kiki:

"You're fired!"

"You're the worst Mommy in the World!"

"You're Nobody's Mommy!!!"  (To which Mommy retorted under her breath, "That can be arranged . . ")

Then, they hit her with the ultimate insult -

"You're not a Mommy - You're a Grandma!  I'm turning you into a Grandma!"

It was that move, which should have leveled Mommy flat, that turned the game around.  Without missing a drip, Mommy turned into a feeble Granny parody that had Logan and Keelin giggling so hard, she managed to do a quick head-to-toe washing and even scored bonus points with a tearless hair rinse.  With her confidence restored, Mommy held her lead for the remainder of the period, which ended soon after with the much-awaited sound of Daddy's car in the driveway. 

Leaving My Husband for Sam Walton

Fasten your seat belts, kiddies.  I'm about to delve into the irresistible and captivating realm of Blogging About Domesticity.  A few nights ago, after the kiddies were tucked in their beds, I euphorically engaged in a stain-fighting excursion with a new bottle of Oxyclean.  I salvaged several maternity tops and, all those stains on my carpet?  Nana - you know the ones - on the bottom stair and at the top of the landing?  Gone.  It was all I could do to not post about my epiphany-like experience.

Today, in a move that may truly result in Patrick serving me with divorce papers, I crossed over to the dark side:  I went shopping at WalMart.  (Patrick will groan audibly when he reads this.)  Aside from a very few, purpose-driven excursions into the Evil Monopolistic Retail Pit of Hell, today was the first time I went in, strapped Keelin in the cart, and let myself explore.

The aisles were neat, organized and well-stocked.  I noted the availability of organic produce and recyclable products.  I also noted the lure of deliberate marketing techniques designed to get me to pile up on unnecessary items for no reason.  Shreck must sill be the number-one spokes model, and the irresistible-to-Kiki Disney Princesses smiled on everything from sunscreen to cereal.   Still, we managed to leave the store remarkable unscathed, and with me feeling somewhat victorious over finding Chinette plates that are both sturdy and recyclable - these can even be composted!  And you can't beat the low, low prices.

On second though, maybe it will only take a few more trips before I'm due for a WalMart Exorcism or some other type of intervention. 

No News is Good News

Wow.  I'm posting this mainly to quell any fears those of you who read this might have that I'm curled up in  a ball in the back of my closet while Logan and Keelin play with Patrick's power tools.  The real reasons I haven't posted are 1) not surprisingly, the SAHM lifestyle affords me far fewer opportunities to log on then when I was Working for the Man; and 2) things are actually going so well that I'm afraid to write about it for fear I might jinx myself.  So, instead, I'll just post a few photos on flickr, and leave it at this:  if I don't post for a while, it's just because I'm relishing in not being nauseated and out giving it all I can for the kiddies at school/camp/church while I can.   

Field Day

Well, I've officially survived my first week of stay at home motherhood (the kids have survived, too), and what better way to celebrate than by volunteering for Field Day at Logan's school.

Since this is the first year we've had a child in the public school system, this is the first time since, oh, 1983 that I've been to Field Day.  I remember relay races, high jumps, the standing broad jump (an event in which I "medaled," believe it or not) and other fairly rigorous athletic contests. 

Today's games were a bit different.  The "field" consisted of seventeen different stations, including parachutes, corn hole, a variety of creative relay races, and even a cleverly-adapted Muggle version of Quidditch.  Each class started at a station, then after 8 minutes, a bullhorn sounded, signaling the time to rotate.  Half of the parent volunteers went with the class, and the other half stayed to run the station.

I volunteered to stay with our starting activity - line dancing - with the agreement that the rotators would switch out with the stayers half way through the course.  For a straight, sweaty hour, I did the Macarena, the Chicken Dance, the YMCA and something called the Cha Cha Slide:

I wish I'd seen this video before this morning.  Even so (and despite being 5 months pregnant), I DOMINATED the field.   The other moms cheered me on as I led class after class through the motions.  As Dooce migh say, I was the Valedictorian of line dancing. 

Fortunately, I broke away from the Macarena in time to join Logan's class for the water relay activities.  We will both sleep well tonight!

Almond Tart

Patrick has left me some fairly large shoes to fill (size 11W, to be exact) as the full-time parent.  Not only has he managed to establish daily routines, provide childcare and perform household maintenance, he also polished his culinary talents to impressive levels.  Seriously, how can I compete with this?

Patrick's signature dish - other than his Greek cookies ("Kholouria") that he makes every Christmas - is this beautiful Almond Tart from The Cafe Cookbook, a wonderful collection of rustic Italian recipes written by Rose Gray and Ruth Rogers, who run The River Cafe in England and who have a captivating cooking show that used to air on PBS and from which I learned the immeasurable benefit of cooking with really good sea salt. 

Patrick made this beauty last night to take to an end-of-the-year dinner for the cooperative preschool board on which he served.  He brought back about half - it's in the refrigerator right now.  Odds say it will be down to a slim quarter by daybreak tomorrow.

So, without further adieu and in full tribute to Patrick's culinary and domestic talents all around, today's Food Glorious Food post features the recipe for this wonderful dish, which I hope Ms. Gray and Ms. Rogers will not view as copyright infringement but, rather, free publicity for their many cookbooks. . . which you should go out and purchase or order through Amazon.com.

Torta di Mandorle

Almond Tart

1 ½ cups all-purpose flour

A pinch of salt

11 tablespoons unsalted cold butter, cut into cubes

½ cup powdered sugar

2 large organic egg yolks (the recipe actually specifies ‘organic’ – that’s not just Patrick being green)

Filling

1 cup unsalted butter, softened

1 cup plus 2 tablespoons superfine sugar

8 ounces blanched whole almonds

3 large organic eggs

For the pastry, pulse the flour, salt, and butter in a food processor until the mixture resembles coarse bread crumbs.  Add the sugar, then egg yolks and pulse until the mixture begins to form clumps.  Remove, flatten into a disk, wrap in plastic wrap, and chill for at least an hour until very firm.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Coarsely grate the pastry into a 12-inch loose-bottomed tart pan, then press it evenly on to the sides and bottom.  Line the pastry with aluminum foil, then dried beans.  (Yes, dried beans - I guess this is to just help it lay flat?  I don't know if Patrick has ever tried this without the beans.) Bake for 10 minutes, remove foil and beans.  Bake until very light brown, 10 minutes or more.  Cool.  Reduce the temperature to 300 degrees.

For the filing, cream the butter and sugar until the mixture is pale and light.  In a food processor, chop the almonds until fine.  Add the butter and sugar and blend, then add the eggs one by one.  Spread into the pastry and bake for 45-50 minutes, until top is golden brown (see photo above).  Cool and over with seasonal fruits.  (Patrick almost always uses strawberries, but added blueberries for the Fourth of July once).

Serves 10-12 (or really more like 20 - this thing is huge!)  Manga!

Transitions

As most of my family and friends now know, in a spur of events that has led me to significantly alter my About page for the first time since starting this blog, our family is transitioning from the Working Mom/Stay At Home Dad model to that of Working His Butt Off Dad/Stay At Home Full Time and Work Part Time to Stay Sane And Make Ends Meet Mom model.   And as much and as long as I've waited for the day to come when I could finally doff my "Esq." for the "S.A.H.M.", it's all a bit scary right now.

Reading back over my last post -Mothers' Day - just a week ago, I can't help but think it was all a rouse.  Even then, they were secretly plotting how they would bombard me with trivial dilemmas that rapidly escalate to screaming fits of such sheer magnitude that within days I will be locking myself in the bathroom and slowly peeling the skin from my face just for relief.  I comprehend why people beat their kids.  Or drink.  Or disappear. 

Yes, it's been three (3) whole days, and already I am here.  As much as I hate to write this all out publicly, I have to think that somewhere, sometime, some other moms or dads have felt or will feel this way.  Sheer Hell loves company.

Not that my kids are any less amazing, precious and dear to me than they have always been.  (Nor, as far as we know, do our kids suffer from anything more serious than typical sibling/toddler issues - albeit to behavioral extremes - but thank God they are healthy and "normal" because I don't know how I would deal with any additional challenges.)  In fact, I realize that it is because they are everything to me that the toll is so great.  It's not what they won't do, but what I can't do that cuts me to the core.

So my prayer now must be, Please God - let this be the lowest point.  Things can only get better from here.  If I made it through this day, please let me somehow make it through again, and again, and again if I have to.   Let this day be the low water mark that makes any other day that we all get through alive seem like a cause for celebration.  As I figure this out, please let there be no lasting harm to my children, for surely if I'm doing the best I can and can't be blamed for my failures, neither should they.  If they remember anything at all of this transition time in particular, let it be how much I love them, and how hard I tried to make this work.   And God, if there's a kiss and hug and an "I love you mommy" at the end of every day as there have been even for these worst of all days, that will be enough.  Amen.