Where Are We Now? Part 1

*taps mic

"Is this thing on?"

It's been over four years since I said farewell to Lit and Laundry, and more than once I've thought about coming back to visit. It's funny to me that so many people still visit this old blog and find old posts. The magic of the eternal internet.

When I began this blog, I lamented the fact that my life was all laundry and no literature (hence the name). I have now come full circle in my life and I rarely do laundry but read about a book a day. I am in heaven.

The three children I raised have grown and each has become a spectacular adult. More on them later.

The one thing that did not survive the years was my marriage. Divorce after 23 years was traumatic, but I am finding now that it was an incredible gift to me; the chance to start over and pursue many things that marriage and rearing children left by the wayside.

I play the harp again. I've written a novel. I've moved back to Oregon and settled into a lovely little house. My time is my own and I am loving every minute of it.

 

Here is my kitchen alcove. Why put in another dining table when I can have big squishy purple chairs? Perfect for tea or wine and lots of reading. You can see my kindle on the table. The magnifying light is ready for all my needlework projects. My black cats are still ever-present.

I am older, and have had a cancer scare. Both of my parents have died now, and there is a big hole in my heart that calls itself  "the empty nest."

As they say, along with age comes wisdom. And a whole lot of serenity. And hope. I am happier now than I have been in a very long time. 

So, for  lark, let me dust off this blog and see if it still runs. I doubt any of my old readers are still around, but if you are, please give a shoutout so I can find you.  I miss everybody in the old blog community and I don't expect it to be like it was, but I also think that facebook is loosening it's grip on our attention. Maybe some of us are ready to return to this. 

Wishing you sunny days and tea and cats.

 - Threeundertwo

Tis the Season to Stress

I bring it all on myself.  I'll be the first to admit it.  Christmas is the "Big Show" for this mom.  I keenly feel how close we are to the end of all semblance of childhood.  Soon the kids will be merely coming home to visit for Christmas, and not experiencing the full season together.  So I'm trying to make it wonderful. 

Party! This year, when the kids wanted to invite lots of friends to our cookie party, I said "Sure!  Why not!" thinking that half the invitees usually aren't able to come.

Guess what?  Everyone can come.  Our tiny house will be absolutely packed.  We're going to have to figure out how to do cookie decorating in waves.  I'm going to have to triple my brunch entrees.  Still need to bake hundreds of gingerbread men.  I'm simplifying everything.  Choice of drinks?  Milk or water.  It's a cookie party.  I only have so much bandwidth.

Huge charity project.  I am fiercely determined to meet my goals on this one, if I have to stay up all night getting details done.

Gifts!  I swear every year that I wont wrap gifts on Christmas eve.  Last year I achieved this goal.  This year it's getting put off...maybe next week.  I did most of my shopping online this year.  Thank heavens for awesome sites like Etsy.

Handmade gifts!  Very few this year.  Hope to have more time next week.

Christmas dinner!  My favorite meal all year.  Also the most work.  Goose is ordered.  Menu planned. 

This is what I want to do; curl up with some quilts and a cat and just take a nap. 

On the bright side, cards are done, gifts are in done, we've been to wonderful concerts and a Christmas musical.  Lots of family time in the evenings watching Christmas movies.  It's all good. 

Just don't look for me in January.  I'll be sleeping on that couch.

Design Wall Wednesday: Cozy Christmas

Playing around with a new project.  Don't look too closely - this sample block has some problems.

Doesn't help that I laid out the whole thing and then did this as I started to sew it together:

Middle section sewed backwards.  I got distracted.  Ugh.  Ripping out on the first block may not be a good omen.  Then again, maybe I have made my mistakes and have it all figured out now.  It sure took some fiddling to figure out which direction I want to press everything.

Continuing backwards in time, this is the number of pieces in each block:

This should keep me busy.  I don't think I'll get it done this Christmas, but it will be fun to work on.  I need 6 of these blocks and 6 tree blocks and then a busy border.

I'm already worried about Christmas since this is one of those years where Thanksgiving happens late so we have a shorter season.  So much we always try to fit in!  Lots of concerts and parties and performances coming up soon.

Cough Cough Sneeze

Calling in sick! I've avoided all the bugs as long as I could, but it looks like it's my turn. While you read this, I'm curled up with a cup of tea and Jane Austen on my kindle.

Dear husband fixed me chicken soup and a grilled cheese sandwich for dinner. Sometimes it's nice to feel like a 7-year old again!

Seems like everyone I talk to is getting sick. Even my mom friends on facebook. Maybe it's a computer virus. . .

The irony is, I don't have any embroidery to do at the moment, since I finished stitching my magnum opus. I'm so used to picking it up every spare minute. I'm going to have to start another big project soon.

Have you managed to avoid getting sick yet?

Fiddler on the Roof Audition Results

Motel. The tailor. My daughter Drama Girl got cast as Motel the tailor.

Seriously. I had to scan the cast list three times before my eyes focused on it. Motel? That bashful awkward young man??

It's as if the director just wanted to provide me with blog fodder.

Go ahead and laugh. I sure am. Drama Girl was shocked. I had to talk her down. "Not enough boys auditioned for the part. It's a good stretch for an actress. You'll get a solo! It will give you good experience! A lot of kids didn't get cast at all."

I'll get to see her in that beautiful wedding scene where they sing "Sunrise Sunset." Only she'll be the groom. *snicker*

So for those of you keeping score at home, this summer I will be putting makeup on my son for his ballet recital and putting a beard on my daughter for her play. I can't help but harbor the nagging feeling that I missed a chapter in some parenting book somewhere. Are all families as haywire as this?

On second thought, don't answer that.

New Goal

Some people train to run marathons. Some do conditioning for months or years to climb mountains. I have a goal that's just as challenging for me.

I want to put on socks.

It's funny really. I'll have a sock in my hands, and I look at that foot, and the gulf between them is like miles. All the result of the arthroscopic surgery on my hip.

Sometimes I cheat by grabbing a pant leg and pulling hard. I can almost get the foot close enough, but it really hurts. Sometimes I actually stand up and lean forward to put on my socks. I rock back on the heel to slip the toe on, then rock onto the toe to pull it over the heel. Then there's the bed maneuver, where I lay out over my straight leg to put it on. Thank heavens for my long waist.

So what I really want to do, is to put on socks the way you do. By bending my hip at an incredible angle.

I'm training for it. Stretching hard. Pushing myself every day. My physical therapist asks at every session how the socks are going. Then she scolds me if I admit I cheat. It's probably in big red letters in my chart: Patient requires sock therapy.

But my dreams don't end with socks. Once I accomplish this, I'm hoping to achieve my ultimate goal - wearing shoes that tie.

The Worst Easter Ever

No, not this Easter. Waaaaay back when I was a kid. We had a pet raccoon named Ricky. Little Ricky had been abandoned in a tree by his mother. Funny thing, when you call up the zoo and ask if they want a raccoon - they sort of laugh at you. I guess they get a lot of calls like that.


So he stayed, and he was a pretty cool pet. Until one Easter.

You know, Easter. That holiday where the Easter bunny leaves little plastic eggs all over the yard? That holiday where the kids go running out whooping and scrambling all over the place to find the eggs because they have candy is inside?

So picture the scene that Easter morning about 1970 when four kids went running outside and found. . . nothing but empty plastic shell pieces.

Apparently Ricky had already found what was inside those eggs, and during the night he went on to find and open and devour ALL of them.

We kept finding half eggshells for years. In the gutters. Up trees. He must have had quite a party that night before, and dragged his treasures all over the place.

Obviously I've never gotten over it. My kids love this story because it's like some sort of unimaginable horror to them.

I hope your Easter was better than that one. I'm looking forward to Easter next week, because we're Greek Orthodox. Having Easter on a different date has its perks. I get to shop the after-Easter sales. Gotta fill up those plastic eggs. . .

Dear PTA

Dear PTA

Stop looking at me like that. I am absolutely not going to volunteer for a position next year. I have paid my dues, attended your meetings, served on committees, negotiated, communicated, kept the books, and even (shudder) recruited.

I know your crafty ways. The gentle pleas from the Principal. The earnest hints from the President. You try to lure me with promises.

"You wont have to go to all the meetings"
"It's all set up - it practically runs itself"
"Lots of people will step up to help you"

Lies. All of them. I must have been born with some sort of tattoo on my forehead that says "Sure! Pick me! I want to volunteer!" The kind of tattoo that I can't see in the mirror but everyone else can see and snicker at.

The annoying thing is, I love the access that being on the PTA provides. At every meeting the Principal gives an update with all the nitty-gritty of what's going on around the school. The 10 of us who attend all find it enlightening. Then we move on to the business at hand and have a lot of intelligent conversations, a few disagreements, but ultimately, we decide things. Important things. Things that affect all our kids, our school, our budget.

I'm frustrated that more people don't attend PTA meetings. Did they decide that they were finished being interested in education once their kids hit middle school? Did they, as one officer likes to put it "figure we're running everything just fine?" I don't know - to me that approval looks more like apathy.

I want to set a good example for my kids. I always want to show them that I'm involved and I care. This year has really taken its toll on me because of some rather sloppy bookkeeping on the part of the Treasurer who came before me. I've had to put in a lot of hours untangling a monstrous mess.

So I care, and I want to be there. Maybe one committee. But no more.

What am I saying. Somebody please stop me.

If I had words

They say that cats have nine lives, and today I'm inclined to believe it's true.

On Thursday my husband pointed out that Ashleigh was crouching bent over in an odd position. She didn't want to be touched, and when I opened the cat food can, she didn't race to her food dish like usual. In fact she didn't go near her food dish at all, or her water.

This cat, who turns 18 years old in a few months, seemed to be in the process of checking out. If you had seen her, you would have thought so too. Every breath seemed like it would be her last. I kept her warm, but gave her her space. I considered the vet, but didn't think she'd survive the car ride.

I wept. Most of the day. Ashleigh is a sweet cat and has been part of the family longer than my children. It pained me to see her failing before my eyes. When the kids came home from school, I gently explained what was happening. We've talked about our cats aging and moving on before, so they weren't overcome. They each soberly said their goodbyes to her.

But that evening, when my husband came home, he sat with her and stroked her and talked to her. The tip of her tail flicked. She purred faintly.

Then in the middle of the night, she went to her water dish and drank. I know because my husband woke me to tell me. Yesterday morning she raised her head and focused her eyes.

As she seemed to rally, I took her to the vet. I was going to let her slip away quietly, and told my husband blood tests and everything else would be expensive, but he was the one who insisted we do whatever was necessary.

I don't know today if she's going to make it. We're giving her antibiotics and she's eaten a small amount of freshly cooked chicken.

What I do know, is that I feel like I'm living a scene from the movie Babe. Where the stoic old farmer takes the pig who refuses to eat and sings to him

If I had words to make a day for you
I'd sing you a morning golden and true
I would make this day last for all time
And give you a night deep in moonshine

Thanks dear husband, for inspiring Ashleigh to eat. That'll do.

Memory reset in progress

"How were your holidays?" "Did you have a nice Christmas?"

My brain flashes back to Dec 22 and the little meltdown I had in our kitchen.

Nobody's helping me clean up and I've still got a ton of shopping to do and if you want to have this big party somebody is going to have to help with the vacuuming and I still have gifts to wrap and ship and now it's probably too late and I lost a few addresses for the Christmas cards and somebody needs to water the tree because I can't crawl under there and reach it and would you please sweep the leaves off the porch why does everybody expect me to do absolutely everything around here while they play Nintendo and talk on their cell phones and why is it the mom has to do everything for Christmas anyway, because I've been spending a lot of time at that theater for Nutcracker rehearsals and performances and I. Just. Want. To. Sit. Down.

I had reached my limit, and I let them know it. They all did rally around to help, but I have to say this was a pretty stressful Christmas. And then it was over in a flash.

But as I look back, remembering how stressed out I was at the time, I remember also how thrilled Wasabi Girl was to receive the unicycle I found for her at the 11th hour, and all the little ornaments I was able to stitch in stolen moments, and the dozens of other fun, fulfilling wonderful parts that make Christmas the season that I look forward to every year. So I answer the same way I always do;

"My Christmas was great! How was yours?"

Lofty goals

I'm not much of a resolution person, and when I make them they tend to be of the easy sort like "floss more."  I hate failure.

But I do make goals every year, and looking back, I accomplished quite a few that I made last year. So here is this year's list of goals (in no particular order):

Finish 10 quilts.  This includes finishing off all the quilt tops that are waiting patiently in a pile.  I'm going to focus on piecing smaller quilts this year, like doll quilts.  I also plan to give each of the kids a new bed quilt next Christmas.  

Double my Technorati rating for this blog.

Walk without pain or limping.  This would be the first time in years if this happens.  Hoping that surgery in the new year will fix everything.

Join the Christmas Ornament Stitch Along and make Christmas ornaments for everybody.  If you know me in real life, this is what you're getting for Christmas this year.  

Say no to volunteer jobs (I'm looking at you, PTA) and do more substitute teaching, where I actually get paid for my time.

Clean out the garage.  Let's not get in to how bad this is right now.  Trust me, it's a big project.

Keep up with the blogs in my reader.  I'm terrible at this right now.  I subscribe to many, and fall behind quickly.  Oh dear.  I just opened my reader and I see that now they have recommendations.  New blogs to read.  This may be my hardest goal.

More harp playing.  I hardly played any music at Christmas time this year, and that's some of my favorite music.  

Then there is the really-tough-probably-out-of-reach list:

Achieve and maintain my ideal weight.  Why does this get so much harder every year I get older?

Open an Etsy shop.  Thinking about it this year.  This is probably a goal for next year.

Read the entire Bible.  I've done this in a year about 4 times.  I have software that lets me read part of the Old Testament and part of the New Testament every day.  It is a challenge to finish it all in a year though.  I think the last time I did this was before I had kids.

And finally, goals I should make but won't:

Stop buying more fabric.  My stash is getting big, but how can I pass up fabric like this?

Stop buying books until I've read absolutely every book I already have.  This is a hopeless cause, and I know it.  I'm trying really hard to be good about this though.

Cook fabulous,  well-rounded, delicious meals for my family every night.  Let's get real.  I love to cook, but once in  while the pizza guy is my friend.

There it is.  As soon as I hit "publish" I'll probably think of a dozen more.  What are yours?

Join me tomorrow for "Finished for Friday."  Now with a button you can grab from my sidebar! Short on ideas?  This Friday you can show us that 2008 calendar you finished, that empty bottle of champagne from last night, that Christmas tree you hauled out to the curb.  Get creative and join in.  Happy New Year!

Hold Everything

I'm a planner. I have this week, and especially today, all planned out. If I do about a thousand things a day, I might keep on top of my schedule. If I have no distractions or setbacks, I will have a bunch of tutors set up at the elementary school, groceries in the house, dinner on the table, and a stack of handouts on the budget and taxes for the PTA meeting tonight.

The only way to make it all work is to put my head down and charge.

So of course today, one of my kids woke up sick.

I could leave her at home while I run around on my errands, but when you're sick you need mommy, and a pleasant time on the couch.

I could ignore her while I fuss and fume over the financial statements I have to untangle, but when you're sick, you need to know someone cares.

So today I am doing the mommy balancing act. Efficiency and compassion.

Don't expect any dusting to get done.

The Tale of a Procrastinator

I had so much to do today. Tutors to coordinate, more PTA checks to count, mountains of laundry.

So of course, the first thing I did after dropping off the kids at school was to sit down with my coffee and start reading blogs. I'm so efficient that way. It's not like I can run around with my coffee, can I? No, coffee requires sitting. Until it's exactly the right temperature. Then drink it down and get another cup and wait for it to cool to exactly the right temperature. It's an art.

So I cruised through my blog reader and then I saw it - the page that changed the course of my day. This lovely woman, a mother of 8, has started a block exchange based on a cottage block she developed. She provided the pattern a few days ago.

Go look at the Christmas quilt blocks people are making. Right now! Then scroll down and see what she's doing with Fall fabrics. Waaaaaay too cute. I had to drop everything I was doing today.

I was only going to make one.

But I thought it was really cute. Eyeballs in the windows! I crack myself up! But I also have an alarming amount of Halloween fabric in my stash. So I made one more.

Hee hee! A dancing skeleton opening the door! Glow in the dark cats and mice! Wacky colored spiders.

Of course, you know what happened after that.

It's amazing anything gets done around here. You know what's even more pathetic? If you look carefully you can see it's pinned up over that hexagon quilt on my design wall. I have a crafting addiction. It's hopeless.

I spent a dollar on ebay

I spent a dollar on ebay and got a book of patterns to stitch mice. Mice dressed up as characters from "A Christmas Carol." Like I need more patterns around here. But what a deal! Only a dollar! Plus a little postage. And I just love little animals in clothes, and Dickens. It was meant to be.



Then I made one. Mrs. Cratchitt with the pudding. Kinda cute.



So I made another. Ebenezer Scrooge. But I didn't have all the colors I needed. Really his glasses should be gold, not silver, like I used.



So I went to the store.

I bought the gold floss for Scrooge's glasses. All 9 stitches. Then I realized that my box of floss is really full, and I have a million skeins that I need to wind on bobbins.



So I bought bobbins. And another box. And those little stickers that have the color number. And some more fabric. Might as well, right?



And then I saw it. The book of Amigurumi patterns. How cute are these? Had to get it.


So then I had to get some worsted weight yarn, because I don't usually use that size. But then I got hungry for a snack in the checkout line and had to get a Snickers.


I really shouldn't have spent that dollar on ebay.

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Joining me for TV turnoff week this week? These might help:

The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends that children under the age of two not watch television. Here are some ideas to help parents get through the dinner-prep hour.

France has just banned television shows targeting children under the age of 3.

The Big Scavenger Hunt

When I was pregnant, I read baby magazines and envisioned days of sweet smelling infants in colorful footy-pajamas. I had vague ideas of their school years, and of course, complete plans for the girls' weddings.

What I couldn't see from that vantage point though, is how motherhood is really just one giant scavenger hunt. And I never win - I just get more lists of weird things to find and do.

This week my list includes;

• A new heating bulb for the frog. Requires a trip to the special pet store that has the special bulb that's about $17.
• A ticket to the dance at the youth center for Drama Girl. Note to self: duck out really fast before they ask you to chaperone. Meanwhile, find out who all the chaperones are and call every last one of them.
• Trip to the bank to deposit money for the school PTA. I love the random checks left in my "PTA Treasurer" box with no explanation. I'll just deposit them and figure out what they might be for later.
• Jungle Boy needs a luggage tag for his trumpet case. Don't we have a million of those around here somewhere? But where? Shoot. I'm going to have to buy one.
• A Webelos shirt for Jungle Boy. Oh Joy. I get to sew a bunch of patches on it too. I can quilt all day but I hate utilitarian sewing.
  
• I need to install the software for Wasabi Girl's camcorder.
• I need to get the alarm on Jungle Boy's watch fixed so it doesn't go off every hour.
• Wasabi Girl needs hair stuff so her hair will stay in a bun during gymnastics team workouts. Do they sell sprayable cement?
• Drama Girl needs more ballet tights.
• Jungle Boy could use some new pants for Church
• Everybody needs a haircut
• I need to get a gift for a birthday party
• Jungle boy needs new dividers for his notebook because he already tore the holes in the paper ones. I should have just bought plastic dividers to begin with.
• Keep looking for a baby grand piano on Craigslist
  

My brain feels splintered. I think I need some things too, but I just wont have time.

Who needs reality TV? Motherhood is the most frantic game of all.

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Coming tomorrow: The return of Vintage Thingies Thursday
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Responses to comments yesterday A Picture of Me and All About My Kids

Monkey Memories; I have all kinds of valuable advice (or not). Cheryl Lage; I'm all about wanton leg display, and yes, we do smile a lot around here! Katherine; I knew it! We're not the only ones who nickname our food! Lidian; We Product 19 lovers are a rare breed. Nancy; Save the best pictures and be sure to put dates and names on them! We think we'll remember but we don't. Noble Pig; I thought I'd die when George Clooney left ER. That's when I gave up on TV. Might as well enter a convent at that point. Coloradolady; Thanks! Sister's Style; The "Lit" is slang for Literature - the thing I don't get much of any more because of all the laundry. Scary Mommy; I think that people will be disappointed if I ever finally do get around to posting a picture. For now, it's as if I have a "mystique" about me. Or I'm too lazy to get a picture taken. Amy; Once upon a time I had a lavender suede mini-skirt that I loved. And I was a skinny little stick. And I didn't appreciate it enough. *sigh*. Denise; I don't know how I'd survive this crew without a great husband/bartender. Elizabeth; Thanks! Laura; Actually that picture was from 2004. Wasabi Girl has refined her talent a little. Peg; I really think I might have to do it. I might even pick the same fabrics you did - I love them so much. Anissa; Blame the current administration. Always a safe bet. Jocasta; Thanks!

NEVER VOLUNTEER! Part 1: Field Trips

This the first in what could be an endless series on the perils of volunteering.

What could be more enriching to a school child than a field trip? It always sounds like such a great idea -- let's take the class to the petting zoo/fire station/science museum -- they'll love it.

In our poor district, there are no buses, so field trips mean parent drivers. Five 6 year olds in your car can be cute. Five 11 year olds in your car can be migraine-inducing.

Driving annoyances aside, I never expected to have any issue with the subject matter of a field trip. I always blithely signed up to drive, carefree non-working mom that I am. So when Drama Girl announced last year that a movie had come out from a book they'd just read, I agreed to drive kids to the special morning showing.

The movie was "Bridge to Terebithia," and I had never read the book. If you've seen this movie, you know what happens. For the rest of you, let me just say:

Bridge to Terebithia spoilers ahead!

The movie is sweet and heartwarming, with cute and perky little AnnaSophia Robb helping her young costar come of age through the magic of imagination. Wonderful Disney stuff. Sweet and charming.

Right up until the perky little star dies in a terrible accident.

I lost it. I sobbed. Most of the other parents sitting with me were in tears too. Someone had some kleenex. Someone passed some napkins. We're talking full-on snot-snorting crying. Right up through the end of the movie.

Then the lights in the theater went up.

"Could I have all the parent drivers please stand so the students who came with you can find you?"

At that moment I hated that teacher, hated that movie, and hated that I'd volunteered to drive. I'm sure I looked great, standing there with my red swollen teary eyes. Oh sheesh, how did I get myself into this?!

Possibly one of my uncoolest moments ever.

Learn from my mistakes. The next time someone asks you to drive or chaperone for a field trip, be sure you wont become a blubbering mess. I recommend you stick to petting zoos.

Coming in parts 2-417: "PTA committees and why to avoid them."

Frog

We're stingy about pets around here. We have the two 17 year old cats, who are in charge, and this guy, the frog. The default pet in a household that doesn't buy pets.

He is over a year old now, and how he's lived this long is a mystery to us all. Last August we took a wonderful vacation to a family cabin on the Smith River near the California/Oregon border. It was beautiful and idyllic and the water was clear. Best of all, for the kids, the rocky bank was coated with tiny frogs and the water was full of polliwogs. Other people can call them tadpoles, we think polliwog is a much more fun word.

Against my better judgement, a jar of polliwogs came home with us. Legs began to sprout all over the place and I plunked down the money for an aquarium and frog food and gravel and a heating lamp and on and on.

When they became full-fledged frogs they were small enough to fit on the tip of a pencil eraser. I believe we had about 20 of these tiny hoppers in the aquarium. As expected, they didn't last long, and when it seemed that the last of them had taken the porcelain whirlpool to frog heaven, I told Drama Girl she had to clean out that tank.

She put it off a few days, then took it outside and began hosing it out. Then I heard her squeal.

"MOM! ONE'S STILL ALIVE!!"

Unbelievable.

And here he is a year later. He's about 3 inches long now and would probably be king of the frogs if his family could see him. I think I've sunk about $200 into distilled water, meal worms, crickets, and heating light bulbs. He's endured pet sitters twice while we went away on vacation.

He's not interesting. He's not cuddly, and he doesn't have any personality. The kids never even got around to giving him a name. But they love him. As much as my husband doesn't want any more pets in the house, I think when this frog finally goes, the kids deserve a hamster or something.

Anybody who can keep this guy alive for this long, is a pretty good pet owner.

Moms Don't Know Anything: Piano Edition

Jungle Boy Says by threeundertwo related [litandlaundry.blogspot.com]

I believe in torturing children mercilessly for no good reason. I believe in doing time at hard pointless labor. I believe in boring children to tears. I believe in piano lessons.

When I first led them down this road, when they were 5 and 6 years old, I told them "You only have to take lessons until you can play the Bach Inventions. All of them. From memory. They nodded their little heads obediently because after all, I was their mom, and they were small, and they adored me and all the adventures I took them on.

All three kids sat together at the teacher's house and took their turns at the piano. A few months into lessons, when she graduated from playing only the black keys, Drama Girl hesitantly asked her teacher about the Bach Inventions.

The teacher played one for her. My evil plot was revealed. The kids were small, but they knew "impossible" when they heard it. All calculations of when they would be "done" with piano lessons flew out the window. They clearly had a life sentence.

They protested. I stood my ground. I sat with them at the piano bench during practice when they were little. Then they graduated to a kitchen timer, and now they practice thoroughly, and well, if not every day. In our house they know nothing fun happens until practicing is done. Want to play on the wii? Gotta practice first. Want to have a friend over? Want to have dinner? Want to live another day? You must practice.

We recently re-negotiated the Bach Inventions deal. Now they only have to be able to play a Christmas Carol at sight. They're actually pretty close to this goal.

As a parent, I get to see the side of the story they can't. How they accidentally fell in love with the power they have over the piano. The thrill they get in mastering pieces. My house is full of waltzes, Mozart, Bach, High School Musical tunes, ragtime and Blues. I see them play proudly for their friends. Last Thanksgiving they put on an impromptu concert for our guests while I finished cooking. I nearly cried. The relatives were suitably impressed. All Christmas season, I awaken to Christmas Carols. Is there any more pleasant way to wake up?

But what goes around comes around, and along with the musical knowledge has come a thirst for more. So now Drama Girl "entertains" us with "Stairway to Heaven" on the violin (ouch!), and next year Wasabi Girl will play the alto sax and Jungle Boy will play the trumpet in the Middle School Band.

I may live to regret the musical beasts I have awakened.


Previously in this series: Moms Don't Know Anything: Hair Edition

Googly Eyes

I've discovered a whole new form of entertainment in perusing the search terms that bring readers to me. You're a fun bunch, apparently quite addicted to Chex Mix although prone to obsessing about future Disney movies and ready to believe in alien abductions. Let's take a look at how you found me:

• "Undertwo." Bless you. Why did someone search on the word 'undertwo' anyway? If you do, you'll find The Undertwo kids Recommended Reading List at the very top of the results page. I feel weirdly special about that.

• "new born country music fan gifts." You found me on page two on Google, and you had to pass by a listing for 'Garth"o"holic webpage.' Sorry to disappoint you with my little newborn who keeps me awake post. Hope you laughed. Then I hope you went back and checked out that Garth"o"holic page, because that sounds kind of fun.

• You searched for "girl desk" and ended up on my Photographic Evidence of Alien Abduction. Really, you need to learn to be less distracted. Try Craigslist. Lots of great furniture there.

• "American Girl Dolls." Poor thing, you're as easily distracted as that person searching for girl desk. Note to bloggers; write a post and call it 'photographic evidence of alien abduction' and lots of people will click on it. I can't even find this on the American Girl Dolls Google page so who knows how far you looked before you stumbled on my link.

• And now for all you ten billion "Cars 2" fans who have landed on Hobnobbing with celebrities: You are cracking me up. There seem to be a lot of you hanging on my every word. And telling your friends.

• "4x tennis outfit" found my Haiku Wednesday IV page. I'm number 2 on that particular search. If you're 4x and you're playing tennis, you get a big high-five from me. You go girl!

• The biggest page hits are coming in for "How to Make Chex Mix." These people must hate me because this is probably the least helpful how-to on the planet. But thanks to somebody kind who stumbled it, it's about halfway down the first page of a Google search.

• And a round of applause for all the other silly searches, including "When I said I do, I didn't mean laundry," "Lessons on Walter the Farting Dog," "floor music gymnast sweeny todd," "cute haiku blog" and "pregnant woman abducted by aliens."
  

There's one search term that's not so amusing to me. Several people found my blog by Googling "Mistake Quilt." I could cry.

How to Make Chex Mix

• Take twins grocery shopping. When they suddenly ask if they can make Chex Mix, remember that you thought it would be a great idea to teach them some more cooking skills this summer. Send them to go get Chex -- "the one with the recipe on the box" and tell them to meet you back in your aisle as you continue shopping.
  
• Tell them not to run as they take off in gleeful independence. Watch them run as they round the corner out of sight.
• When Twin 1 returns and asks "Wheat or Corn Chex?" Repeat the instructions "The one with the recipe on the box" and send him off again.
• Finish three more aisles of shopping and start wondering where they are.
• When Twin 2 returns, listen patiently while they explain "They don't have THE recipe mom, just these weird recipes." Tell them "The recipe is always on the box. Get the Rice Chex and get back here."
• Wait a long time again. When they return trying to convince you one last time that the recipe isn't on the box, don't believe them until you actually look at the boxes and see the weird variations on the recipe:

• Once home, tell twins to Google Chex Mix recipe.
  
• Wait forever while they get distracted and play Webkinz on the computer.
  
• Review their finds: "Original Chex Party Mix" vs. "Real Original Chex Party Mix."

• Wonder why 1,849 people actually bothered to take the time to rate Chex Mix on a website.
• Go and get the mail. Find a package with a rockin' free vintage apron from Rick Rack Attack.
  

• Put the apron on of course!
• Divide and conquer. Tell one twin he gets to make cookies later. His sister is put in charge of Chex Mix.
• Show daughter how to measure butter into pan. Watch as she coats arms, pan, and stove with butter. Nod and smile and remain encouraging.
• Commence measuring spices. Watch Worcestershire splash everywhere. Note with dismay after she's poured half the spices out that you'll have to review the difference between teaspoons and tablespoons. Throw out the whole spice mixture and start again.
• Try to keep smiling as you try to help her chip off some onion powder that has decided to turn into cement.
• Alter the recipe because who likes bagel chips anyway? Chex Mix really needs Cheez-Its.
• Stand back while she measures dry ingredients. Watch them cascade beautifully everywhere. Listen to the floor crunch underfoot.

• Carefully mix the whole thing on a cookie sheet, watching it spill all over the place.
• Put it in the oven.
  
• Open the oven door and smell that bit of heaven that is processed cereals, butter, and salt

• Enjoy a little snack and write a post about the whole thing.