Banana has been on this kick of wanting to watch scary movies. Her best friend (who has just moved out of state) watched and told her about Paranormal Activity. She begged me to watch it when she found out that The Chef and I had it recorded on his DVR to watch for one of our stay-at-home date nights. I told her no more than once because I *knew* it would scare her. But still she begged, she told me all about it, and pleaded her case to both The Chef and I. This time it wasn't just me telling her no, she got the same answer from her dad.

Well tonight, being a Friday there was nothing on the television. I suggested a movie, and seeing that Paranormal Activity was only an hour and a half, The Chef pressed play, and I looked at her and a smile was pulling at the corners of her mouth. I asked her if she was sure she wanted to see it. She nodded yes, her eyes fixed on the screen, her lovey placed gently at her side.

She was doing great until The Chef said, "Whoa". She climbed up into my lap, holding her lovey tight to her chest. We watched a few more minutes, and I whispered in her ear, "It's ok if you are scared. If you want to go and watch TV in the other room, we won't tease you." But she stayed strong... that is until the last 2 minutes. She stood up and said "I'm outta here", and she walked out. I suggested watching one of the Hannah episodes that is recorded on the front room TV. The Chef and I half laughed, and suddenly the movie was over, and I have never been so glad that she had decided to leave. She missed the last 15 seconds, and The Chef and I both agreed that it would have been THAT which her nightmares would be made of. She walked back into the room, and we told her that she had made it, that she had watched the entire thing.

She got to watch two Hannah episodes, and we sent her to bed with hugs and kisses and telling her to think good, happy thoughts...

... and she ended up sleeping on the couch.

To Banana on her 9th Birthday

Hello Sweetheart.

I find the older that you get, the harder it is to write you these letters. Not for any other reason than, I am running out of words to describe the awesomeness that is you. You laugh when you should cry, you jump when you're nervous, you like being the center of attention (like is an understatement), and you have your father's wit and your great grandmother's ability to tell people to go to hell, and they thank you when you're done.

You have this uncanny knack of being able to tell if something isn't quite right, and you do everything in your power to try and make it right, even if it borders on being annoying. You care for things, and when you grieve, it's deeply with your whole heart. You have amazing superpowers, and don't even know it.

You have decided to let your hair grow, and that is in part to your dad whispering into your ear at night. Although he understands that if it's short it's easier to take care of... even though I have to remind you daily to brush it. When I apply dye to my hair, you beg to let me dye yours. (NO) Your nails are always done, and you beg me to let you use my nail polish (Yes), and you love skirts, and lace, and being frilly... but you also love mud, and throwing down with your brothers.

When you want to do something, you give with all your heart... and I know what kind of problems that can bring years down the road, I can't stop you from that either.

You are destined for amazing things... just keep being you.

Just Jump

"Banana. What are you doing?"

"I dunno. Just jumpin'."

This was as she was getting dressed for the most important game her team has played this year. All of the adults felt it too. It was that tingle in the air. All of the kids were on edge, they were hyper and aware. They knew this was a big stinkin' deal...

And what does my Banana do? She was doing what she always does when her nerves get the best of her...

She started acting silly.

I'm talking making faces, talking in a funny voice, acting a fool, and well... jumping. I'm talking about doing all of it in spite of her stomach being in knots and her heart racing a mile a minute.

My daughter knows how to just let it all go.

I used to be a let it all go person. I would find my center in the chaos and be able to deal with what Life handed me, and the majority of the time, I had a smile of my face. A three ok maybe five minute crying jag and it was done. I rolled with it for many years into my adulthood and even into my mommyhood. But there came a day when the nerves didn't really go, and the stress never really subsided. Eventually, it would all disappear, but when it came back, it did so with a vengeance. The periods of nerves and stress were getting longer, and harder to manage. Long periods of insomnia started, and then the snapping at children for being children. Slowly the roles reversed, and the times where my nerves aren't getting the better of me far outweigh the times that they don't, and because my nerves are shot, don't even think about changing something... that takes my fragile mood and shifts it nowhere good.

I know when the balance shifted. Life was right there to punch me in the gut after I turned the corner one too many times. If you don't see the punch coming, you can't block it. That's when I had to start having details... all of them. That is when I HAD to start knowing... everything. That way I could  have a Plan B, a Plan C, hell even a Plan D. That way, no matter what, I could be prepared.

Being with her this weekend, she was just so her, and because of that, she was able to remind me of so many things... like it's absolutely acceptable to make silly faces at each other when all you want to do is strangle the idiot pharm tech because she thinks she knows what you are going to say instead of actually listening to what you are saying scream. "Let's just go to another store Mom. What's the big deal?" That it's perfectly fine to go and check out the hotel instead of just sitting in the lobby because go figure your room is the only one that isn't ready when you check in. "There are two sets of stairs, Mom. We could have a killer game of hide and seek here." That it's more than wonderful to sing at the top of your lungs to a song you barely know because somebody screwed up and they changed the ice rink on you. "That rink so was so loud... you don't have to worry about getting a headache again." That it's just plain fun to tease each other the way Jackson and Miley do.

But as I watched her get ready for this important game, a tidal wave of protectiveness overcame me. I don't want her to lose what she has. I don't want her to go to bed with knots in her stomach, only to have them be twice as big in the morning. I don't want her to forget how cleansing a three yes yes FIVE minute cry can be. I pray that she can hang onto the silliness, and onto the ebb and flow of change. I want to wrap her into my arms and not let Life be so harsh to her that she loses these superpowers.

I don't want her daughter to have to remind her what it's like to just...

Jump.

Melting Snowmen makes me Supermom (I have proof)

I am right now in the middle of what I like to call the Christmas Cookie Week. I bake to take to my inlaws for Christmas, I bake for my aunt's and my parents, and of course for Santa. This year there are more (read about why here), but just in quantity, because I make everyone's favorites. It's been crazy hectic, but I do really love every minute of it.

Banana, who knows I like to bake treats for classes, asked her teacher if it was ok if she brought in cookies for tomorrow, their last day of school before break. Her teacher says yes (and "thank you for asking if it was ok"). Banana tells me this when she gets home from school today. I have a ton of cut out butter cookies... no problem. Throw some icing on them and it'll be fine.

"Oh and Mom, they can't be Christmas cookies. A boy in our class doesn't celebrate Christmas or his birthday."

I think I have enough stars and snowmen cutouts that it'll be fine and then I get on Facebook.

Sitting there in my news feed, is a post from Betty Crocker. They are highlighting this blog that are making cookies called, Melted Snowmen, and I fall madly in love with them. This is the answer that I was looking for.

(Before we go any farther, there is something I need to tell you about myself...

You know the husband that watches the DIY channel and thinks suddenly that "building that *insert weekend warrior project here* isn't that hard... and then suddenly it is? Yeah, that's me when it comes to baking... anything. Usually I can pull it off, and like said husband, it may not be perfect, but it gets done.)

Besides, they are sugar cookies, how hard can they be?

Then the boys pipe in, "How about cookies for our class?"

Sure, why not. What's a few dozen more?

When Crazy Domestic made them, she used the Betty Crocker Sugar cookie mix. "No store bought dough for me, and I'm dumb enough I have all of the ingredients here to make cookies." She also used Betty Crocker Cookie Icing. "Why would I buy that? It won't set up in time and I'm crazy enough, I have all of the ingredients here to make icing."

I ran to JoAnn's to get color for the icing and came across the tubes of Wilton frosting that all I have to do is attach a tip. SCORE! I stop at the grocery store on the way back and get marshmallows and get a tube of the orange gel for their little noses. Now on Monday, I had made cut out cookies with the babes up and running around, and I wanted to hang them all by their toenails before it was said and done it was more of a hassle than I was willing to deal with. So I figured I'll just wait until they go to bed... and then I waited some more... and some more... and I finally get started at 11pm. I figured I'd be done and in bed by 2ish.

I used the Sugar Cookie recipe and Confectioner's Icing recipe from joyofbaking.com I triple it because I figure I have at least 68 to make (Enough for each class.) I pull out the dough after it's 20 mins of chill time, and start to mold it... and I can't make them right. No matter how hard I tried, they were all different thicknesses, and my Virgo self was freaking right the hell out they weren't just coming out right. So I roll them and cut out circles. I'm looking at how many I have, and how many I need, and realize that I have to make more. I make another triple batch.

Finally, they are all done and out of the over. The first half are nice and cool, so I start on the icing. I double the batch, and in my sleep deprived super mom state of mind I think it will be enough to ice the 75+ cookies I have. I have to make more icing.  Double the recipe again, and I have 70 cookies iced. I'm not making more for the last 5 cookies. Time to move onto the marshmallows. I made 6 or 7 at a time, and it wasn't as sticky as I thought it was going to be. I have all the marshmallows on. Now it's time to pipe on the decorations.

Now, when I first saw these, I thought to myself, oh that will be easy. And you know what? It really was. It was uber easy. Just didn't think it was going to take me 3 hours to pipe 70 cookies. I didn't account for the massive hand cramps. I didn't account for the mistakes and how I was going to fix them. But at 6:30am, I was done. Completely done. All that was left was to go and sit for a minute and then I could box them up for the kids to take to school.

Banana woke me up. It was 7:10. I told her to get ready for school. Then the chef woke me up. It was 7:30. I shook the sleep from my head and went and boxed them up.

Melted Snowmen all ready to be eaten by school children

The boys didn't say "Thank you". In fact Jelly got mad because I wouldn't let him eat one. But Banana... she is the one that made it worth it.

"Mom, Thank you so much for making these cookies for *boy in her class*. These are really cool. You're the best." Followed by a huge hug and a kiss.

How Gizmo is making us watch The Polar Express

My sister and her brood came to visit on my birthday. Even though we haven't bought each other presents in years, they showed up with one for me. It was something I had been talking about wanting to get for a few weeks. It was nothing expensive, just something I wanted to share with my babes, it left that much of an impression on me.

It was none other than this movie.

What were those three rules again?

My nephew (only 6 months younger than Butter), Butter and Banana had all been talking about wanting to watch horror movies. What better one to let them cut their teeth on than one of the one of the movies that made the Motion Picture Association of America revamp their rating system? So I got it in my head that I wanted... needed to get my hands on it, and show it to them. 

After all it had this guy in it... 

I want one!

... and this guy...

Back in the '80's when badass = evil 

The next day, when Pineapple went down for her nap, I put it in the DVD player, and curled up on the couch with Butter and Banana to watch. Now, it has been YEARS since I have actually seen this movie, so my memory was a little spotty when it came to it. What I do remember is, that when I saw it as a kid, it made me laugh in a few places, it made me jump in a few places, and I recall very vividly the kitchen scene. (Because honestly, could you forget the microwave?) But there is one scene I did forget about. (Go ahead and watch the 1:40 clip. I'll wait.)

(Unless you remember that scene exactly, you need to watch it. It's ok, I'll wait for you.)

That scene didn't set off alarm bells, in fact I didn't even give it a passing thought. I was more interested on the babes reactions. If a movie that influenced me as a kid would stack up to what they watch on a daily basis. They said they liked it, but neither have mentioned wanting to watch it again. I think it scared them a little more than they are willing to admit. No problem. We are still a few years off for scary stuff. 

Fast Foward a week, and the babes are talking about Santa, when my EIGHT year old little girl blind sides me with the blasphemy that rolls out of her dirty mouth tells her OLDER brother, "I can't believe that you are almost 10 years old and still believe in Santa. You are such a dweeb." (With an eye roll that made my eyes hurt.)

Wait? What?

I pull her aside later and asked her about it. She swore she was "just joking" and of course she "still believes". I played the old card of "Do you think that your dad and I could buy everything that Santa brings you?" She did the obligatory shake of the head "no". 

Then I saw it. 

That look that every child learns at some point in their life, the one that just makes you want to slap it right off of their precious little faces,  the one that reveals their internal thoughts of, "OMG. My {insert parent's name here} is so stupid." Banana had that look mastered at five, so she has had a lot of practice with it. Unfortunately, there was something so genuine about this one. So honest, so true... my heart shattered for the both of us.  I knew in that instant, she no longer believed.

I knew I was on borrowed time with the two older ones. Butter has a test for Santa this year. He is going to ask for something that The Chef and I always told him that Santa wouldn't bring him. He is going to put it in his letter and not tell The Chef and I what it is. (Baby monitors are such wonderful devices.)  Which of course under the tree would be that one thing he asked for. With that plan in mind, I figured we had one more year with Butter, and one, maybe two more with Banana.

I had no idea where she learned the truth. We are so careful, and I get on the ones who aren't. But what really confused me is that it's the beginning of September. I shrugged my shoulders and went about it, making a firm decision that The Polar Express would be on our "Not to Miss Christmas Movie/Specials" list. If I was lucky I could squeeze out one more Christmas with her.

Fast Forward a week and a half. I'm sitting down to watch one of the shows I recorded on the DVR. It's The Rotten Tomatoes Show. (For those of you that are not familiar with it, it is a movie review show shown on current.) Well, I record it at some off time, and instead of reviewing the most recent movies out in the theatre, it was a Top Five show. And on this show, they had a segment called, "The Top Five Kids Movies That Aren't Really Made For Kids" and what movie was mentioned?

First they talk about the kitchen scene, then they play the clip that I posted, and then they replay the line, "That's how I found out there wasn't a Santa." 

I felt my mouth hanging open as I smacked my palm against my forehead. 

We are most certainly watching The Polar Express this year. 

To Banana on her 8th birthday

{Note: I have gotten into the habit of writing my babes letters on their birthdays. One day, when they are old enough to appreciate them, I will hand them all over. Either that, or they will get them when I die. Either way... I want them to know, to understand, how they were, who they were, and just how much I loved them.}

Dear Banana,

You are officially 8, and officially driving me nuts. Not in the "I have to drink everyday to cope with you way" it's more like the "Where did you come from" kinda way. You are so much more of a girl than I was/am/ever thought to be. Not that it's bad, I'm just unsure on how to deal with you when you get like that. I know that some of it is your budding hormones... which I can't believe you are old enough to have yet. Some of it I am sure is because of Pineapple. Not saying that you don't love her... because there is not a single doubt in my mind that you do. I know you do. But she is a girl... and I am sure that people fawning over her isn't helping you any.

Not that you would admit it. 

And I love you for that. There are days when I throw my hands up in the air and scream at the gods, and then you come out and throw your arms around me and tell me you love me. It is genuine, sincere, and it does make me feel better. Even though there are sometimes when you don't choose the right time to do it. I know you mean the best when you do. 

See, that's the thing about you. You are always trying to make others feel better. You do what you can to make it happen. Even if it means giving some of your things away. Even if it means that you would go without. Which I guess know is the reason why your dad and I have a hard time with it when you say, "This is MINE!" It's just so unlike you. I'm working on it. Your dad is working on it. And I hope by this time next year, if you do say that, we won't get pissy with you like we do now.

You like your hair short, much to your father's dismay. I understand it though. I keep mine short. You don't look the best with longer hair, even though this last time when we went to get it cut, I begged you not to get it cut as short as you did. You actually wanted it shorter... but I said no. If you are anything like me, there will come a day when you will just do it. But that day is somewhat in the future. I would say a long time, but I know better... it seems like yesterday you were 2.

You are turning into one helluva hockey player. You played forward this year in Spring, but you keep telling us you want to be a goalie. We bought you a stick, and all we need now is to get you a baseball glove. If you want to be a goalie, I am not going to stop you, but I wish you wouldn't be. You GET being a center. You GET positioning and what you have to do when you get the puck. You GET it all... But I know no matter what position you choose... be it a goalie or a forward or defense, that you will rock it. You have heart for the game. You love it. 

You still have a love affair with giraffes. I don't get it, but I don't need too. Moo Moo bought you a stuffed one in a blanket that very very rarely comes out of your room. You take it to her house when you spend the night, and when I come in at night to kiss you and turn off your light, you are sleeping with it. When we go to the zoo, we spend a ton of time at their exhibit just looking at them. If it keeps up, I can see you getting a tattoo of one someday. 

You are also finding music... more so than before. Moo Moo and Grandpap bought you an MP3 player for your birthday, and I have been busy filling it with music for you. Some of the stuff... Miley Cyrus, Ke$ha, Lady Ga Ga makes me gag, but it is yours... and I have to remember that I was a pop junkie too at one point (Hell, I do like Miley's song: Party in the USA). Pop music is good... in small doses. It's like the junk food of music. LOL 

You are a scrapbooking junkie too. Again, no surprise there, that is my hobby of choice. And Grandma does it, and Moo Moo does it. Grandma got you scrapbooking stuff for your birthday as a matter of fact... so did Aunt Nyoka. You are constantly begging me for pictures... I told your dad that we are going to need two printers, one for you and one for me. 

You just finished up the 2nd grade. Your teacher's name was Miss L. You liked her enough. Everything in school comes easy for you except for spelling, which you come by never so naturally... but the thing about that is, I don't think you really try at it either. You haven't had one thing that you have struggled with, and I think that because everything else is so easy for you, you think why bother. Well that is what I think anyway. 

You have a few friends besides the ones you were born with. E being the most important and who has claimed the title of BFF. You two don't see each other as much as you both would like, I know that is partially my fault because I don't have a car to take you to her house, or to bring her here. I'm working on it. I hope that she will be in your class again next year. I think that would do you a world of good. E is a good kid. I like her. And when your parents like your BFF it makes the world smoother. 


You like to read... which I find to be awesome. I love to read... and when I was your age it is what I did. I would read for hours and hours, which is what you do. You take your books upstairs, and I can't tell you how many nights I have had to turn off your light, with the book opened beside you. You are picky about what you read... just like your dad. If the story doesn't grab you instantly, you are over it. You read to Jelly a lot, and Pineapple frustrates you because she won't sit still. 


I am amazed everyday with the things that you do, the things that you say. I am so blessed to have you as my daughter. I am so lucky that you choose me to be your mom. I just hope that I can continue to do right by you.


With all my love...
Mom