Thoughts on Slice of Life

This is the third year I'm attempting the Slice of Life month long challenge.  In each of the previous two years, I managed to write and post daily until about the middle of the month, when life seemed to get in the way.  One obstacle has been the Illinois Reading Council conference in mid-March.  Attending the conference tends to derail my blogging and commenting efforts because I get so caught up in the social aspect of the conference.  This year, I am resolved not to let that happen.

I chose to attempt the month-long challenge again this year because I know that when I am writing regularly, I am a better writer.  I went back through my blog archives earlier this week, and I was amazed that I had actually written some of those entries.  There was one in particular that stood out for me, this one, where I describe cooking with my children.  I almost cried, thinking about how much they have grown since I wrote the blog.  It's also kind of cool, though, that I have written memories of these times, not just photos in a scrapbook that don't tell a whole story.

I've also decided that I'm going to try to spread my slice stories out between two of my blogs:  this one, where I tend to write about my life and family, and Making It Work In The Middle, my sadly neglected professional blog.  I may also cross post some posts to the Illinois Writing Project blog.  We'll see.

So here it is, March 1, and already I'm off to a great start.  Tonight I'll go through the links and comment on others' posts, a task I enjoy, as it leads me to new voices to follow in my Google Reader!

An Almost Summer Morning

This morning I am attending a meeting I thought about backing out of.  I've had a stressful week, and this is the second Saturday in a row that I am spending away from  my family.  These all day events that take me away from Dan and the girls are not my favorite things, especially now that the weather is warm and sunny and we could be out exploring the bike trails or the Botanic Gardens.

Now that I'm here, though, I'm glad I made the hour-long drive to Geneva.  Our meeting is being held at a lovely bed and breakfast, and we are currently sitting on a patio in a garden with birds chirping in the trees and coffee on the tables.  I've enjoyed great conversation over breakfast and had the opportunity to get caught up with people I've not seen for a while.

Honestly, if I were at home, I would probably just now be getting home from the grocery store, unpacking groceries, cleaning out the fridge, doing laundry and hassling Abby to get her room clean.  We probably wouldn't get around to bike riding or garden viewing until after lunch, and then I might be so caught up in a project that we wouldn't even leave the house.

Right now, sitting on this patio sipping coffee and writing is winning out over housework.

Kitchen Lessons

"Mom?" Abby began one day.  "Can I help you make dinner?"

I looked down at my six year old little girl.  She barely could see over the counter, much less help me chop the veggies for the salad we would have that night.

"Sure... grab a stool & come on.'

Abby scrambled up on the barstool next to the kitchen island.  I handed her a cutting board and her knife.

Yes--a knife.  A real one.  A sharp one.

I've been teaching my girls to cook since they each turned five.  We started with simple things--helping to get ingredients out of the lower cabinets, adding the chocolate chips to the cookie batter, cutting soft foods like avocados with kid-safe knife.

But now we've moved on... the girls are learning to cut veggies and other foods with a real knife.  They know to keep their fingers curled under and they know a dull knife is more dangerous than a sharp one.

They're learning other things, though, too--

They're learning to be independent.  Soon enough the time will come when they'll own knives of their own.  They'll know how to dice and chop and julienne.  They'll know the satisfaction of feeding themselves and those they love.

They're learning to take risks.  Abby loves to put odd ingredients together to see how they taste (peanut butter and cheese anyone?).  Molly invented her own dessert--Ritz cracker smores.  By letting them experiment with noodles and sauces, I'm teaching them that sometimes we make mistakes, and that's okay.  They're also learning about the wonder of surprises, like pineapple popsicles.

They're learning to be confident. You have to believe you can flip that pancake and attack it with gusto.  Same thing with life; you have to face things head on and deal with whatever life throws at you.

The time I spend in the kitchen with my girls is time well spent. Cooking with them is not a chore; rather it is special time we have together to talk about our days or things that are on our minds.  I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Oops!

Yesterday, my 10 year old daughter lost her 10th tooth.  She had a friend over, and the wiggly tooth was really bothering her.  The two girls sequestered themselves in my bathroom and worked at that tooth until it came out.  This is a pretty big deal, considering Molly has never before taken initiative in getting her loose teeth out.

She found one of the little plastic treasure boxes given to her by the school nurse and put her tooth out for the tooth fairy to find.

Only the tooth fairy forgot to visit the Rench Ranch last night.

This whole tooth fairy thing has me wondering.  Molly is going into fifth grade.  I have a feeling she knows the truth behind the tooth fairy, Easter bunny, and Santa Claus, but I'm not really sure.  She's not come right out and asked or said anything about it, but today when she asked why the tooth fairy didn't come, she had a knowing look in her eye.  In a way, it will be a relief when I don't have to be all of those things for my kids, but at the same time it will be sad.  It will mean they have lost a bit of their innocence; that they are taking another step toward young adulthood.

Perhaps Molly is helping me keep the fairy tale alive for her little sister.  Perhaps she doesn't want me to know that she has figured all of this out.  I'm not sure; and I'm for sure not going to ask.

But I am going to make sure the tooth fairy comes tonight!

Family Time

This past weekend, my husband and I packed up our daughters and drove four hours through Illinois corn and soybean fields to Otter Lake.  Meeting us there were my dad and stepmom, my sister Lindsey, my brother Brandon and his son, and my brother Kyle, his wife and two sons.  It was the first time our whole family had been together since my other brother Brent's funeral in December.

This was a weekend long in the making.  No family is without drama, even mine, but after Brent's sudden death just before Christmas, we all decided it was time to put differences in the past and bring our families together.  I'm so glad  we decided to do this.

My girls were loving being on the boats and in the water.  They got to fish with their Uncle Kyle and Grandpa Lou, and boy were the fish biting!  One after another, the bluegill popped out of the air, only to be removed from the hooks and (most of the time) released back into the water.  The fun was in the catching!

I reveled in the fact that we were all getting along, that laughter was ringing through the air, and that all of our kids were healthy and thriving.

Brent's absence was obvious, though as I thought about it, I realized that he was there in the smiles and laughter of his nieces and nephews.

Growing Up

Earlier this week, my almost-10-year-old daughter started asking me about various ways to style her hair.  She has an American Girl book called Hair:  Styling Tips and Tricks for Girls that she's been reading quite a bit lately.  My girl has been growing her hair out since she first saw Pocahantas and decided she wanted her hair to blow in the wind just like the Disney princess.  A few months ago she mentioned that she'd like to donate her hair to an organization that makes wigs for cancer patients.

My girl's hair is incredibly thick - when wet it's nearly impossible to get a ponytail elastic around it.  It's beautiful brown hair that flows down her back.  It's also incredibly hot.  With the Chicago area heatwave in full force, she decided enough was enough; it was time to cut the hair.

I made an appointment for both of us to get our hair cut by my stylist this afternoon.  The girl decided she would go second so she could think about how exactly she wanted her hair cut.  Her eyes were a little teary, and I could tell she was beginning to feel unsure about the big cut-your-hair plan, so as she climbed into the chair and began to tell Mikel about her dream hairstyle, I breathed a sigh of relief.

So now it's done.  My baby made her SECOND grown-up decision today (the first was getting her ears pierced), and I couldn't be more proud of her.  She looks fabulous, but also older than I'd like her to look.  I know her hair will grow out, and I know I'll get used to to the new 'do, but I know I'll also miss the little girl she used to be.

Hot summer days...

It's HOT here in Chicago today.  It's going to be even hotter tomorrow.  These hot summer days have got me thinking about summers I spent as a kid, growing up in southern Illinois. 

Here are some things I remember...

• riding my bike all over town
• running crazily through sprinklers, either our own or the one belonging to whichever neighbor was watering his lawn at that particular moment
• swimming at my grandmother's country club and signing my aunt's name to the charges
• camping with my dad's parents and family at Clearwater Lake in Piedmont, Missouri, and taking the boat on long rides up the river to a spot where the water was so clear I could see all the way to the bottom and so cold it almost hurt to swim in it
• "camping" with my mom's parents and family at Anthony Acres Resort in Effingham, Illinois, and playing shuffleboard on the playground
• waterskiing until my hands hurt so badly I could no longer hold on to the rope
• playing with my friends until the sun went down, whatever time that was
• catching fireflies
• reading under a tree
• hanging out at a different small-town homecoming every weekend while my dad worked at the beer stand (my grandfather owned a beer and liquor distributorship, and my dad was one of his managers).  My mom would hand me a handful of ride tickets and off my brother and I would run.  We would only return to get MORE ride tickets, or perhaps fifty cents for a corn dog or some cotton candy.

I DON'T remember...

• sitting inside watching TV
• being bored
• having my days planned out for me
• feeling hot!

I think about how my childhood summers are so different from those of my own daughters.  I know times have changed, and I'm sure I was bored AND hot quite a bit during the summers (nostalgia makes even summer look perfect).  I hope that while the experiences are different, my kids will look back and think "Wow.  Those were the days."