Me Help You...

Love hurts, especially when it’s coming from Adam. His two year old mentality has yet to grasp the concept of his 4 year old physique.

“Me help you!” A bittersweet phrase. My initial thoughts are, “How sweet. My little man is learning to serve.”

But then reality kicks in, or its Adam kicking, either way I realize that my task at hand will take twice as long; there will be some form of additional clean up involved, property damage of some sort, and Adam will injure himself or someone else in the process.

"Sigh"

But I do want a young man who helps around the house one day, so I guess I should encourage him when he’s willing to try.

"Sigh"

But every now and then, I mellow and time permits the two of us to bond over a mundane task. Today’s task…making cupcakes for Shannon’s school party. Not too hard to impress that group, so a little Adam magic wouldn’t hurt anyone.

I think I changed his clothes 3x that day. But note…he was wearing dark apparel so as to mask chocolate stains. I’m a thinker.

Reaping rewards. The beaters were hot commodities growing up. As a mother, I must sacrifice for my children.

I will scrape the residue off the sides of the bowl…or purposefully leave a few tablespoons of batter at the bottom for me.

My apologies to my friends who cringe at the sight of raw eggs being consumed. I could tell you stories of things my grandpa sees as “fit to eat” that would make your skin crawl and keep you up at night.

“Here mommy.”

“Here.”

“I share.”

Thank you Adam… this camera lens has been craving chocolate all day.

In the end, even with the copious amounts of scrubbing....both Adam and the kitchen, there are sweet rewards. While I treasure the peaceful moments we spent together, he appreciates the edible results.

All is well with the world:)

Wolf man

He does this every time.

Fight. Kick. Scream.

We respond by...

Bribing with candy. Turning on Veggie Tales. Strapping him down.

Not ideal, but it gets the job done.
The results are always the same...wolf man. How does one's hair grow at such an alarming rate? My guess...superhero gummy vitamins.

A Southerner in a Snow Storm

I had heard about the impending storm for over a week. When the locals get scared…I get scared.

No, that’s not true…I panic!

I made Steve stop for milk. We already had 3 dozen eggs in the fridge and a fresh loaf of homemade whole wheat bread as well. We raided two Redboxes plus the local library for DVD’s. Shannon school enacted early dismissal. Steve came home from work at 3pm. We ate pizza, swam in the hot tub, watched movies…and waited.

When the snow began to fall, I could feel my stress level rising. I didn’t know what to expect. It didn’t help that I was constantly checking the internet and every homepage mentioned the Midwest being slammed with a blizzard or the people buried in their cars as they attempted to drive home.

Blizzard. A word I had heard before but never fully understood… until today.

Swirling snow.

The word “blustery” came to mind…which Steve informed me was not really a word, but

I swear I read it in a Winnie the Pooh book long ago. Regardless of its validity, it seemed to sum up the scene that was unfolding before my eyes.

But, I had to sleep.

When I awoke, I looked out the window with hesitation; utterly afraid of what I might see.

Now, I have a fairly active imagination. However, remember that I had never experienced a blizzard before. In this case, my imagination failed to prepare me.

Loser

The scene before me was indescribable

…unimaginable

…white.

Where was my mailbox?

oh, there you are.

Where was the car?

I think that's it.

Why was there a white curtain hanging from the roof?What was this?

Oh yeah, my first blizzard.

Steve began an attempt to carve his way to his car while I spent an eternity outfitting the kids in snow pants, hats, gloves, scarves, socks, boots, etc.

Shannon reverted to her happy place and grabbed a sand bucket…she was at the beach, building sand castle. Or in reality, a snow castle. Adam… he became the quintessential 2 year old who quickly became annoyed by his gloves, which stifled his creativity, ditched them, froze within seconds, began crying in pain, snot flowing, and finally had to be carried inside by Mommy for some cartoons. Still not one to be content, he cried at the door, disappointed that he was not included in the excavation activities.
After we cleared our driveway and helped a neighbor do the same, I took a quick walk to the grocery store for some guacamole. Yes, guacamole. Something tropical. Something on sale. Something to get me out of the house. Steve made an appearance at work, grabbed a few projects and clocked out before the roads began to freeze for the evening. At home and we homemade snow crème and salted caramel sauce while we congratulated ourselves on surviving our first of many blizzards. Salute!

Mmm, snow creme. Whipped it up, stored it on the deck. What? My freezer was full. My deck is what I call my "Iowa freezer". Best way to get your soup frozen flat in a ziplock bag.