Time Well Spent

About a month ago, I was wasting time on Facebook. My kids were hanging around pestering me, not letting me just sit there and do what I wanted to do.

I thought I would get up and make some cupcakes.

Cupcakes – I’ll teach those kids to mess with me.

I happened to post this threat, and my friend, Angel said, “Do it. I love doing things on impulse…” Angel is a teacher, novelist, and darn good mother.

So I made the cupcakes. Then I showed the kids how to flavor frosting and we made vanilla, mint, and mocha. They loved me. I loved me. We all loved cupcakes.

I spend a fair amount of time focusing on making the kids happy. I try too hard to entertain them. “Where do you want to go today? The museum? Library? Bounce house? Gym?…”

When they just want to play in the yard, I’m offended, and I sulk away, thinking about how spoiled they are.

Then, I make myself busy, and say I don’t have time for them.  It’s pretty crummy now that I see it written down.

It’s not the kids who are spoiled. Actually, I’m spoiled because it’s not easy just to be at home with them. It was so difficult in the beginning, I wrote a whole book about how to bear it, and how I made the best of it. (I’m rolling my seasoned-parent eyes.)

Doing things with my kids – simple things – really IS the best of it. Last night, we cut a watermelon together. That was all we did! They went to bed happy!

Today, my son spent the WHOLE day in the back yard. We planted some lavender and he watered it. We looked in the soil for worms.

Rosemary Wells wrote, “Children spell love T-I-M-E.”

My children are excellent spellers.

They don’t always let me do what I want to do. They make me do what’s important.

MOTHER’S DAY BRUNCH

Just because something’s a tradition, doesn’t mean it’s pleasant.

Hazing is a tradition.

That’s why I’m making the case NOT to go to brunch on Mother’s Day.

Now, take a peek over at the left side of your screen. That’s me, in the purple shirt.

Hi-yee! (I’m waving.)

Look at me. I LOVE BRUNCH – you can see it in my chins.

Where else can you get the foods you eat normally, at an inconvenient hour, cooked in – and then covered with – butter? Don’t forget your own carafe of coffee! (Sharing at brunch is déclassé.) Brunch is awesome. I’m eating brunch right now.

goes down so easy…

I’m not really, but it’s delicious under everyday circumstances.

Brunch on Mother’s Day is a special kind of hell. (Yes, I’m aware I’ll never be invited to Mother’s Day Brunch again, as long as I live. Good Riddance.)

Golly, think we’ll be cold?

Did you dress up? Come right from church? Wear the spring dress you bought for Easter, but it snowed that day, and it’s still not bleeding warm enough in the middle of MAY? Maybe you’re in uncomfortable shoes, or you had your toes done, and it’s sleeting.

I’ll bet the kids are dressed up, too, because nothing says “I’m a good mom,” like forcing your kids to wear stiff Land’s End and NOT MOVE all morning.

You’re probably starving, and when you get to that adorable breakfast spot you love so much, every family in the STATE is there with their newborns and grandparents and relatives from Canada. (Canadians are nice people, what’s wrong with you?)

Even though you had a reservation (that you made yourself, ironically…) there’s an hour wait, and you’re forced to stand  in your uncomfortable shoes (grandparents and Canadians get dibs on chairs) and smell coffee and cinnamon toast while your stomach growls and you corral your children, who are also hungry, but lucky for them, have built-in snacks they hide in their noses.

By the time you DO sit down, it’s all ruined, and you’re not queen anymore. You’re back to being “mom in a restaurant.” The kids eat four or five packs of jelly apiece and don’t touch the $7 smiley pancakes. Your husband tells you you don’t have to get a salad, as if you were going to get a freaking salad, and hey, what is he trying to tell you…?

Oh. No. You. Didn’t.

The babies are crying, the grandparents are shouting, the Canadians are clattering their cutlery and apologizing. The whole restaurant quiets down just  at the exact second you yell, “I like it BLACK!”

Once you’ve eaten, assuming nobody spills their tomato juice, puts an elbow in the syrup, or bites their lip and has to be rushed to the ER, you’ll feel rotten from all that coffee and hot buttered crap. But you’ll still finish everything on your plate, because it’s a Special Occasion, and you can’t remember the last time you stayed seated through a meal.

When you finally leave the restaurant, it’s noon. Too late to do anything with the kids, too early to drink yourself dizzy and crawl back into bed.

So what DO you do on Mother’s Day, when all you’ve ever done is go to brunch?

Mother’s Day is in 2 Weeks – Please let me know when you’ve figured something out.

Here’s my book about after school activities. It’s even called After School…$0.99 for a limited time!

Sure, you could buy them…

this is the only picture I have. I’m not a food blogger.

There’s about a foot of snow on the ground, which would be great, if it weren’t so &#$@ cold. It’s one of those cruel winter days that looks sunny and amazing but actually sucks.

That’s why we decided to make noodles. My son didn’t even know you could make noodles. Heck, neither did I – why would you make something you can get for a buck at the grocery store? It’s crazy! It’s like churning your own butter or removing your own tonsils!