Our Goldfish (RIP)

Our goldfish died yesterday. My daughter brought him home from school three months ago in a little plastic bag. I dug up an old glass vase to use as a makeshift fishbowl, since experience has taught me that goldfish in our house never survive for more than a week.

Countless mornings, I have come down to the kitchen and found myself facing a wide eyed fish floating upside down at the top of the bowl. Though it usually makes me slightly queasy, this time I took a deep breath, marched right over, picked up the whole bowl, and flushed the hapless fish down the toilet.

As my children trickled groggily into the kitchen one by one, I held my breath praying they wouldn’t notice the absence of our vase/fishbowl. As I doled out cereal and milk, plain cereal, and cereal in a bowl with milk on the side, none of my children seemed aware that anything was amiss. Only once they were all safely ensconced in school did I allow myself to exhale, mistakenly believing that a crisis had been averted.

“Where’s Goldie?” my three year old inquired later that afternoon.

“Who?” I asked a little too loudly.

“OUR FISH”, she replied, clearly annoyed at my ignorance.

I had to think fast. Should I tell her the truth? Did I really want to explain the concept of death to a three year old right now? After all, it was just a fish.

“Well, ummm, our fish got very sick, so I had to flush her down the toilet.”

“It’s cuz we fed her too much fish food, right Mommy? Can we got to the pet store and get a new one?”

I smiled, relieved that she seemed to have taken the news in stride, and that there was no accompanying tantrum.

When my three older kids came home, things did not go as smoothly. The absence of the fish, which had gone unnoticed in the morning rush, was now glaringly apparent. Although my kids knew that pet goldfish are wont to die, especially in our home, they were horrified at my appalling misdemeanor. How could I flush the poor dead fish without a proper funeral?

As I vaguely recalled the popsicle stick grave markers in the miniature cemetery behind the garage, I chided myself for allowing my children’s fish funeral ritual to slip my mind.

When our last goldfish had expired, I had been in the early stages of pregnancy, and the sight of a fish, as well as the smell of fish food, had sent me dashing to the nearest bathroom, awash in waves of nausea. When my oldest son, realized that the fish had passed on, he bravely scooped it up in a cup, lovingly placed it in a plastic baggie, and then proceeded to officiate at the funeral, while my two other kids looked on solemnly. Fishy (I think that was his name) was then buried alongside his three predecessors, Swimmy, Orangey, and Sharky. How could I have forgotten?

As a devoted mother, the fact that I consistently attempt to shield my children from life’s disappointments, coupled with the knowledge that death (even that of a goldfish) is an uncomfortable topic to discuss with kids, had prompted me to dispose of the fish swiftly and quietly, thereby deluding myself into believing that I could circumvent the whole predicament with a quick flush of the toilet.

I recalled with amusement the first time we had acquired a goldfish, and it had died within a couple of hours. The kids were very young, and being the novice parents that we were, my husband had raced out to the pet store, minutes prior to closing time, and replaced the ill-fated fish with a look alike, hoping to spare our kids the disappointment of the death of their first pet.

Often, in our quest to be perfect mothers, we desperately want our children’s lives to remain halcyon and carefree, yet we are ultimately doing them a disservice by sheltering them from the harsh realities of existence. By gently guiding them to face the world’s challenges head on, painful as it may be for us, we can hopefully fortify them to deal with the bumps on the road of life ahead.

Pajamas

As a little girl, one of my favorite pastimes was playing with my dolls. I would spend hours dressing them and styling their hair, and I was the proud owner of every doll outfit imaginable, all with matching accessories. I dreamed of the day when I would become a Mommy and have my very own real live “doll” to play with.

Many years later, when my first son was born, reality set in, and it soon became evident to me that my newborn son bore few similarities to the dolls of my youth. However, as I settled into the foreign routine of motherhood, I began to take great pleasure in outfitting and shopping for my baby. A whole new world opened up for me, as buying clothes for me fell to the wayside and I discovered Baby Gap and Gymboree. I delighted in perusing the displays of tiny jeans and miniscule polo shirts. My son possessed more pairs of shoes than I did, before he could even crawl. Each day was exciting as I selected his outfit and dressed him up, from his little baseball cap down to his miniature Converse sneakers.

When my daughter was born a year later, I was overjoyed to expand my shopping repertoire to the girls section as well. I stocked up on headbands and bows, tights and little dresses. Her outfits were coordinated with care, and when she spit up, I was secretly glad to have a reason for dressing her up all over again in a new outfit.

Five years later, when our second son joined the family, I was eager hit the baby stores once again. However, right from the start, our little boy seemed to have a mind of his own when it came to fashion. He squirmed as I attempted to stuff his tiny legs into designer jeans, he was miserable in a button down shirt, and he was constantly pulling off his socks and losing them. He seemed to be happiest clad solely in a diaper. By this time, I had mellowed a bit as a mom, and being that I had less time for shopping anyway; I was content to outfit him in stretchies most of the time.

By the time he was 18 months old, he insisted on wearing pajamas 24 hours a day. No matter where we went, be it to the park, a playdate, or a party, his faithful pjs were his choice of attire. Luckily, I had mellowed over time, and since I was already a veteran mom, I decided that this battle was not worth fighting.

Our friends and neighbors got used to it, and many people found it adorable. There were some who patronizingly suggested that perhaps he had Sensory Integration Disorder. After a bit of research, I realized that this was not case, as the sweatpants and T shirts that I offered to put on him were every bit as comfortable as his pajamas. He was just a spunky kid and his choice of apparel only served to highlight his mischievous nature.

He had no particular preference for a specific type of sleepwear. All winter long he stayed cozy in his fleece sleepers (pulling boots on over them was a challenge), while in the summer, he romped around in his shorts and tank top pajamas. Fortunately for him, I had now had a fourth child on the way and with 3 active kids, I had little energy left to devote to his wardrobe. I confess that it was definitely a cheap alternative to clothes. All had to purchase were a few pairs of pajamas to outfit him for the whole season!

When the pajama phase came to an end, as all childhood stages do, I’ll admit I was a bit disappointed. There is something so endearing about a kid in his pjs, that just makes him a magnet for cuddles, hugs and kisses. Pajamas had become so much a part of who he was, that when he finally did start getting dressed we barely recognized him! Now on weekends when he hangs out in his nightclothes until noon, I smile at him wistfully as I recall his adorable toddlerhood quirkiness. Today he is a confident, outgoing 7 year old, which I surmise is partially due to the fact that I encouraged him to express his individuality during those toddler years.

If there’s one lesson I have gleaned from 13 years of motherhood, it’s not to sweat the small stuff. Children grow up much too quickly for us to trouble ourselves over our kids’ choices of attire or other such trivialities that our fatigued maternal brains won’t even remember a month from now. Yes, it can be humiliating when your daughter insists on wearing her new bathing suit to your cousin’s wedding, or your son is wearing his snow boots on a sweltering July evening to your nephew’s Bar Mitzvah. But these are the moments that we will fondly look back on and laugh nostalgically. It is these idiosyncrasies that make our children who they are, and by permitting them to express their uniqueness, we are building foundations of confidence for a lifetime.

At the mall wearing pajamas

Our New Grill

On a recent excursion to Costco with all the family in tow,

As I heaved my shopping cart up and down each row,

A demonstration was taking place in the center of the store,

For a grill called a Traeger, that smoked foods and much more.

The Traeger grill can be an oven and a smoker as well,

Proclaimed the aggressive salesman, who was so eager to sell.

As “The Barbecue King” my dear husband was excited,

To purchase our new Traeger, the whole family was delighted!

So now we love our Traeger; we grill in shine or rain,

Our neighbors always tease us, they think we are insane!

I smoked salmon fillets, one night last week for dinner,

Immediately upon tasting one, I knew I had a winner!

Beer can chicken’s a favorite, that even the kids will eat,

I even make desserts on it, to make our meals complete!

Carpool

As a suburban mom, I spend a large portion of my time chauffeuring my children from Point A to Point B. Being that I am seated in my faithful minivan for most of my waking hours , I have come to view my car as a second home, and have outfitted it as such. I have a glove compartment full of snacks, a trunk filled with small water bottles, and caddies of pens, papers, notebooks, tissues, baby wipes, hand sanitizer, and a collection of books and toys. There is even a garbage bag of old clothes which I had originally planned to give away, but then realized they were better suited to be housed permanently in my cavernous trunk for emergency situations.

Since I am resigned to the fact that I will be driving carpools for many years to come, I have begun to discover some of the positives of working as an unpaid taxi driver. Take yesterday, for example. Wednesday is one of my rare days off, the only day of the week that I don’t actually have to drive any kids anywhere. At 4 o’clock my son burst into the house, slammed the door, and flung his coat and knapsack across the room.

“Hi, how was your day?” I asked brightly.

His response was an unintelligible grunt that vaguely sounded like “Okay”, leaving me to spend the remainder of the evening anxiously wondering what had happened in school that day.

The next day was my turn to pick up the aforementioned son along with three other boys. They pushed their way into the car, in a blur of baseball bats, mitts, hockey sticks and balls of all sizes and settled into the back.

My ears perked up as their conversation began.

Boy #1 “I heard you got sent to the principal’s office today. Cool!”

My son, “Yeah, whatever.”

Boy #2, “Is it true you threw a chair at Joseph?”

My son, “Well he hit me with a hockey stick first, so he started.”

As the banter continued the boys were completely oblivious to the fact that their invisible chauffer could actually hear them waaaay up in the front. As I mentally prepared myself for a phone call from the principal, I smiled inwardly realizing that I had just discovered a huge advantage to driving carpool!

This scenario often repeats itself with my daughter as well, and I’ve come to appreciate the fact that picking up the kids is a window into their lives and their interactions with their peers. As a silent observer, I’ve gleaned bits and pieces of significant information which I would otherwise have no way of knowing. My fellow carpoolers and I have even made a pact to reveal to each other any essential news that is overheard in our respective minivans.

On days when my offspring have extracurricular activities, I sometimes drive a total of SEVEN carpools. It’s great because I often get to snatch a 10 minute snooze while I’m waiting outside the school. Sometimes it’s not even worth the effort to get everyone out of the car and into the house, so on those chaotic days, I’ve taken to serving dinner in my minivan. The kids love it! I’ve made some rough calculations and it appears that I’ll be carpooling until at least 2022. So for now, I’ll just sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride!

Recipe

For my kids to eat healthily I always do yearn,

But veggies and whole wheat are foods that they spurn.

I have some tricks up my sleeve, I must confess,

To sneak in wholesome ingredients, so they’ll never guess!

Grated zucchini in meatballs can be disguised really well,

Replace bread crumbs with wheat germ and no one can tell.

For this oatmeal cookie recipe whole wheat flour you will use,

Add chocolate chips, nuts, craisins; whatever you choose!

After school my kids grab these when they race through the door,

Double the recipe; they’ll be asking for more!

Whole Wheat Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies

¼ Cup Oil

¼ Cup Corn Syrup

1 Cup Brown Sugar

2 Eggs

1 tsp. Vanilla

1 Cup Whole Wheat Flour

1 tsp. Baking Powder

2 ½ Cups Oats

½ tsp. Salt

½ Cup Chocolate Chips, Raisins, Craisins, or Chopped Walnuts

Preheat oven to 350.

Beat oil, sugar, eggs, and vanilla.

Add remaining ingredients and mix by hand.

With wet hands, form into balls and baked on greased cookie sheet for 10 to 12 minutes.

My Latest Project

We recently bought a  loft bed for our older daughter, being that her room does not have space for furniture. I kept promising her that we were going to make her bedroom really beautiful. Of course, life got in the way of my grand plans, and months went by and we still hadn't decorated the room.
 Finally, I made this project a priority.
I bought the quilt, sheets, and throw pillows at HomeGoods.
I found a matching tulip stencil online, printed it, traced it onto stencil plastic and cut it out.
I painted one wall with Benjamin Moore Pink Ladies, and then I stenciled a row of tulips over the bed and all over the opposite wall, using stencil paint.

I transformed an extra pillowcase into a valance by adding grommets on top and pompom trim on the bottom.

   
For the finishing touch I bought 6 natural wood frames. I painted them white and put a different flower photo in each one.