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.

   When I think back to my first pregnancy, I recall long afternoon naps, healthy, well-balanced meals, and just laying on the couch marveling at the feeling of the fluttering inside me. I read my pregnancy books religiously and I knew precisely what physical symptoms to anticipate each month. My doting husband joined me at doctor's appointments during the day, while at night he scoured supermarket aisles to satisfy my cravings. I was careful not to lift anything too heavy, as I asked the boy at the supermarket to load my packages into the car. I read to my unborn baby daily, and played classical music to my belly at night. I spent many hours fantasizing about tiny little onesies and beautifully decorated nurseries. I glowed with excited anticipation as I eagerly awaited the arrival of my first born.

   Fast forward a couple years to pregnancy number four. The closest thing I could get to an afternoon nap was collapsing on the couch in the midst of reading One Fish, Two Fish to my five year old. If I was really lucky, my kids would play with Lego for about fifteen minutes while I dozed off until a fight broke out and I would be summoned to settle it. My dog eared pregnancy books were collecting dust on the shelf, and I barely even knew what week of my pregnancy it was. With three kids and one on the way, there was no way my husband could afford the luxury of taking off work to accompany me to doctor's appointments. I really tried to eat healthily, but I inevitably would end up finishing my kids’ leftover macaroni, French fries, and everything in between. At the supermarket I indulged the kindly bagger who insisted on carrying out my bags, while I hoisted my 30 lb toddler out of the shopping cart and into his car seat. In lieu of classical music, my unborn baby heard the constant sounds of her siblings playing, bickering, and me shouting at them. It's not that I didn't enjoy my fourth pregnancy, but it just seemed to whiz by so fast, and I was so preoccupied, I could barely remember my due date.

   I spent the last six weeks making arrangements for my kids so I could enjoy my short vacation in the hospital after the baby was born. As I read my children their bedtime stories, they poked and prodded at my enormous belly, thereby introducing themselves to their new sibling. When my labor began, I frantically rushed to lay out my kids' clothing for the next day, pack lunches, and throw in one more load of laundry. My brief hospital stay was a blur, as I raced home to be with my kids. Our new daughter was excitedly welcomed by her three joyous siblings, as they squabbled over who would get to hold her first. I watched with tears in my eyes as my children gazed at their new sister in wonder and gently caressed her feet. I felt grateful that this new baby had such loving siblings to welcome her into the world, and I looked forward to observing the future interactions between my children and their new baby sister.

   A couple of weeks later, when things had somewhat settled down, I gazed lovingly at my new daughter while I reflected back on my pregnancy. Although subsequent pregnancies may not be as momentous as first one, there is one factor that remains a constant. The fierce love I felt toward each unborn baby and my joy and delight as I welcomed them. I may not have done my fourth pregnancy by the books, but as I cradle my newborn daughter, and my heart expands to love another child, I realize that pregnancy is just a means to an end. And the end is what's important.

Lunch

As a wonderful wife and mother of four,
Making lunches at night has become quite a chore.
So just make five sandwiches all the same, you say?
But each kid has a preference, and it can change by the day!
For my husband it's simple, a wrap that's whole wheat,
With turkey and lettuce-that's what he'll eat.
Next comes my firstborn who doesn't like bread,
But he's happy to consume a bagel instead.
Not with tuna fish or lox; those are too smelly,
And his school is nut free, so no PB and jelly.
Cheese makes him gag, but canned salmon's okay,

Sometimes egg salad, it depends on the day!

My sweet older daughter is so easy to please,
Packing her lunch bag is simply a breeze!
She'll eat what I give her be it cream cheese on rye,
Or last night's left over chicken pot pie.
Then comes #3 the pickiest of the bunch,
It's a real adventure just packing him a lunch!
He has a passion for potatoes, cooked,baked or fried,

He'll even eat 'em cold with ketchup on the side!

Hummus and crackers with pickles if I'm lucky,
But to him most foods are considered just yucky.
For my darling baby girl it's yogurt with a spoon,
She eats a second lunch when she comes home at noon.
By the time I'm done this task, I'm exhausted as can be,
And I can never find time to fix a midday meal for me!