the search for delicious

I could eat him with a spoon I think, couldn't you?

The day after Valentine's Day is a special one for me. Not because I am still all caught up in the after glow of the love showered on me, but because it is the first day I am able to find chocolate cadbury eggs. I know it is ridiculous to find such joy in a lousy, mass-produced, processed candy, but really, the chocolate to candy shell ratio in these is near perfect, and this year I even found them in dark chocolate, a substance I abhorred until Nikki got me addicted this summer!

So imagine my disappointment to learn that the lunar cycles have been aligned such that Easter is in March this year. What?!?!?!?! Maybe they could have moved up Valentine's Day too, because this has seriously cut down the season for cadbury egg eating. I know, with the amount of preservatives in them they could probably last all year long, but for me, their flavor is enhanced by the anticipation of Easter, that, and if I ate them all year long I am certain I would begin to look like one even more than I currently do. Maybe the alignment of the planets is God's way of telling me to go on a diet :)

So, with cadbury eggs out of the question for what should have been 3 more weeks, my quest for the delicious must be rerouted. Here is what I found:



The great glass wall at the Georgia aquarium, much more beautiful when experienced from the perspective of J, my 5 year old nephew battling autism, who cracks me up with his sly wit and melts my heart when he runs to me and clings unabashedly because for a split second he has mistaken me for his mom, and who loves fish (and based on my hugs those split seconds, loves his mom too) like I love cadbury eggs.


The enthusiasm of Ellie, who believes in her heart of hearts that the Easter Bunny just knew she was going to be playing Nancy Drew with her cousins and brought her a Nancy Drew coat, never considering that it was just coincidentally cute. Bigger than life Ellie who bought her teacher a rose with her own money for her birthday this week.



The giggles of cousins sleepovers, Mike and his family from Texas joined by Holly's children, all 11 of them playing and running and eating and egg hunting and squirming and squinting when it's time for Easter pictures. And all of them sad when the party is over. But none sadder than me, Auntie Mel, who would take any of them, or better yet, all of them, any day.


The wonder that she is not offended when people tell her she looks like me, though her beauty pales mine in comparison. She still admires me, and is immune to the body image based world. When she looks in the mirror, she likes what she sees, I hope it lasts forever. . .


The feeling of abundance when the yard is covered, the mommies have packed and planned and the daddies have hidden, and now it is time for the children to hunt for eggs. There is so much that for one brief moment, each is feeling so lucky with her own basket that no one is worried about how much the others got. A feeling I wish we could replicate in the adult world. A feeling that sits better in your stomach even than cadbury eggs.


The silliness of a boy wearing a lego box for a hat. He is desperately attempting to recreate Evan Almighty, taking spare wood in the backyard to build his ark, offering the most heart felt sincere prayers to God that he can change the world (which his four year old brain equates with building the Ark) and opening his eyes afterward, excitedly bursting out "did He say yes?"

So, does the food create the taste or is it the eating of the food, the smell, the pretty plates, the company? Either which way, when I look really close I find it outside of a wrapper, the part of my life I want to savor, the delicious.

On Beavis and Butt-cho

Four and a half hours in the car dropping off and picking up this weekend brings me to the ugly revelation that Beavis and Butthead is not just a fleeting memory of too much MTV from college, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Why so much time in the car?

My poor, deprived children are generally not allowed to slumber with friends at their homes for parties. So, imagine the joy and squeals of delight when Kennedy and Ellie received an invite to Middle Miss's birthday party - it was a slumber party and it was family. They were in!

And imagine my anguish when I saw the softball schedule and Ellie had her only Friday practice that night, the eve of Opening Day (yes, Alpharetta takes softball very seriously). Just for reference, Dahlonega (the site of said party) is a mere 45 minutes each way. So, what is a parent to do?

Sporty dad says she must go to practice, softy mom says Kennedy should not miss a minute of the once (maybe twice)-in-a-lifetime approved slumber party. Mix it together and you get 2 trips for drop off plus one for pick-up the next morning - we are die-hards! And we love Middle Miss!!

Getting back to Beavis, my children quite enjoy the i-pod in the car. The girls are relieved when it plays because they don't have to listen to "Boring Mormon Talk" (sunstone podcasts), NPR, Clark Howard, Dave Ramsey or Dr. Laura (yes my listening habits are quite odd - especially when they are all listed together).

The boys love to sing-along to "Little GTO" (which they learned from the B movie RV). But having heard it 7 times already and feeling a bit nostalgic since all this driving was beginning to feel like a road trip, I turned on Johnny Cash.

My girls don't know it, but they have it easy on the ears. Growing up, my siblings and I seriously considering petitioning the FCC to ban from the airwaves a country music group called Trio - starring Dolly Parton who sang (or pined, depending on your view of country music) in extreme soprano. It was that or crackling AM sports where you could kind of hear 1/2 of a play and then static, then my dad would deliberately tweak the dial bit by bit hoping for another glimpse into the game.

The only tolerable sound we had in the car was Johnny Cash. And everytime I hear him, I am taken back to the days of early morning drives through Utah to get to Great Lake Powell - but that's another post.

Anyway, Stevie loves "Ring of Fire". He was singing along and all was well, until I started hearing giggles, then full on cackling from the back seat.

"hee hee hee, he said 'fire' haa haa haa"

Was I hearing voices? Having a sad college flashback? This can't be my son, a boy with half of my genetic makeup. Another chorus and it was confirmed.

This was not a college prank, the once-popular MTV cartoon with crass obnoxious humor has been reincarnated via the boys in my backseat. I did decide to rename the show given its current actors. Let me know if you have been pining for a sequel since we are now the reluctant producers of Beavis and Buttcho.

by the side of the road

We visited my brother Mike and his family in Houston last weekend, but before I get too carried away, let me just explain who, exactly "we" is, and is not. "We" is not Randy. He stayed home to work. "We" is all four children, plus Holly and Big Much and Middle Miss. We filled Big Red, her suburban, and off we went. Like Thelma and Louise, but with 6 extra people who are not self sufficient.

The weekend was about M, my 8 year old niece getting baptized. M is truly a wonderful girl. She is a human version of monkey bread, a sometimes overlooked but never disappointing dessert. M is warm and soft with a generous coating of sugar and a touch of cinnamon for spice, and her giggle makes you always want to go back for more. Providing comfort and snuggles to the troubled hearts of her cousins, she is the last to require attention or praise. And her stories, if you listen carefully, make hilarity out of the mundane of everyday life. One day ask her about the GPS who the family refers to as "Lady Bugs" as M says, "because she's a lady and she bugs us".

Other things that made this trip priceless -

panic attack as two claustrophobic sisters are trapped on a 20 mile stretch of HOV lane surrounded by cement barriers and NO WAY OUT!!

"what's that smell" (Stevie asks) all the way through stinky Louisiana where refineries provide the only view from the freeway

post-church popcorn Holly shared with us from her tub of boy scout chocolate covered caramel corn - apropos considering it is truly DIVINE

Wally and Stevie singing "Little GTO" from RV, the movie each of them chooses when it's his turn

Big Much imitating Auntie Mel as the roller coaster announcer when we go over big hills

Watching the cousins play High School Musical Wii - Mel scored a solid C as Sharpay in some boppy song

Auntie Holly doing a sit bounce trick on the trampoline

"I'm S and I just turned 4" my nephew's constant introduction

Being left by the side of the road for Randy to pick up when we hit our freeway exit (it was at my request, but still funny to all the Best Buy customers who watched us unload)

My cup runneth over

I am officially the mom of a boy. You may wonder how, after 4 years, it is only now official. Because now my son is the proud owner of a cup. Not the kind you drink out of or the kind you win when you have achieved something great. No, this is the kind that boys wear with a strap when playing particular sports, his being karate - the kind brothers leave out in hopes of making their sisters gag, the kind that requires some explanation to a 4-year-old before use, and of course, I was the sole parent at the karate studio who "got" to offer it.

For some background, Stevie has a fascination with his parts that is foreign to me. When he was first formally introduced with the proper name during potty training, I think I heard the word 87 times per day - usually in public when he would ask the unsuspecting clerk at the store where her "part" was (much to my blushing face, he didn't use the word "part") or when he would declare the gender of people (including close family members) he saw using the restroom in public.

So, that beautiful Saturday, as he saw the cup included with his new gear, his first reactions was, "will my "part" fit in there?" Well, I don't know how well-endowed he had grand illusions of being, but clearly yes, it would fit. But, oh, the joy when he found out he had two other parts in dire need of protection during a karate fight. Only, this time, I got to choose the word rather than his dad, and so, I am the proud mother of a boy who is the proud owner of his "boys".

a blog is born - jump in with me!

You could call it my 6th child, say its time is overdue, and most correctly recognize that even its coming-to-be is representative of me: lots of thought, lots of time, lots of fret, a GRAND idea with NO finished results.

I have been dabbling around a bit trying to come up with THE perfect blog - from colors to the best first post to a great name. And finally, after 6 months, several training sessions from patient friends, a name from Randy (why are his jokes so telling???), and a not-so-gentle nudge from my mom (I think she called it NAGGING PERSUADING and CHALLENGING me to do it), I am "jumping in".

I have officially started a blog.

And, just like a child, the blog seems to point out my weaknesses even as I am still caught up in the newness and wonder of it all and the pride for actually bringing it about. I have grand plans for this blog, major renovation, frequent posts, exploring my creativity, etc, etc.

But blogging highlights how little I know about linking or labeling or HTML-ing (or even blogging for that matter). It publicly screams to the world that I don't upload my pictures from camera to computer with any organization or regularity. It fusses about whether I actually have anything to say. And it beckons me to do better.

Hopefully it will quiet the nagging voice in my head (not my mom this time), maybe because it provides an outlet for three great loves of my life: photography, writing and nostalgia, maybe because it takes the "I'm never caught up" scrapbooking pressure off of me, maybe because it connects me to those I love, maybe because it makes me feel more like my "cool" friends.

Marmet said "We respond to a drama to that extent to which it corresponds to our dreamlife." I spend much time living the life I dream and dreaming the life I (want to) live, so grab some chocolate and a Diet Coke and jump in with me!