I am the MOM

My RED Kitchen

theredcottagekitchen@yahoo.com (I am the MOM) — Sun, 10 Aug 2008 15:17:00 +0000

Years ago, I found the cutest lil' creamer in a thrift store. It was covered in tiny strawberries with lime green dots. Upon turning the piece over, I found the name of the pattern printed on the bottom to be called "Strawberry Swiss Dot".

And with that lil' ole' find, two obsessions were born...

Ebay and a ridiculously RED kitchen.

After the acquisition of the strawberry creamer, I diligently searched and found, piece by piece, the rest of the entire Strawberry Swiss Dot set. I have four dessert plates, four coffee mugs, the cake plate, the sugar bowl, and the teapot.

I added lots of strawberry items to my kitchen.

Upon noting my love of all things strawberry, my Mom gave me a beautiful set of embroidered strawberry place mats with matching napkins.

When I couldn't find anymore strawberry items, I focused in on cherry items.

My Mom painted this picnic basket with cherries and ladybugs. She also added the sweet cherries fabric liner. I love it!

I started collecting vintage cake carriers, tablecloths, aprons, colanders, trays, ice buckets, granite ware / enamelware, thermo serve items, and condiment holders.

This beautiful tablecloth was my grandmothers. My Mom tells me that grandma used to put it out on the fold away card table every time her friends would come over to play pinochle.

I then took a liking to anything that was red gingham.

And things that had to do with old time diner images, like burgers, popcorn & hot dogs.

I started looking for nifty things that had to do with Elvis and Vegas... as long as they had some red in them.

The buffet hutch drawers are full of wonderful textiles.

I honestly do not have room for another thing, but you know if I find something special... I'll make it "fit" somewhere.

They're Back

theredcottagekitchen@yahoo.com (I am the MOM) — Fri, 08 Aug 2008 18:02:00 +0000

And the world is as it should be once again...

Mark and I went to the grocery store this morning to fill the fridge and pantry for the kids.

Jake and Sara both have a friend over today to spend the night.

We've been to blockbuster to rent movies and a game for xbox.

We've been to the dollar store to buy candy and old fashioned paper pop corn bags for the "movie marathon night" the kids are planning.

The fridge has been opened at least 20 times.

The screen door has slammed shut more than that.

The phone is ringing off the hook.

"MOM"! has been called down the stairs about 15 times so far.

GOD! It's good to have them home!

I'm NOT Eating That

theredcottagekitchen@yahoo.com (I am the MOM) — Thu, 07 Aug 2008 15:00:00 +0000

There is a Sara Lee Chocolate cake within the confines of that cake saver.

I AM NOT EATING THAT!

I had a Smoothie for breakfast and a wonderful lunch consisting of grilled Talipia, brown rice and a salad.

Yesterday, I rode the stationary bike for about 45 minutes.

I'm trying to eat healthier and take some weight off. My pants are a little loose, but I don't know how much weight I've lost because our scale is broken. That's probably just as well. I can become ridiculously obsessed with the NUMBER, that shows up in digital RED, from above the toes of my feet, when I step on it.

At the age of 44 and having lost a loved one recently, I just want to do what I can to live longer. I don't want to freak out about a number of pounds, but would rather just see myself in a smaller size while feeling better.

I can smell it...

But I'm not going to eat it!

My kids come home tomorrow. I'll tell them to invite their friends over and have at it...

Cedar Chest Memories

theredcottagekitchen@yahoo.com (I am the MOM) — Fri, 01 Aug 2008 14:53:00 +0000

There is an antique cedar chest, passed down to me from my Mother, that sits at the foot of our bed.

It holds all my sentimental items from my children's baby photos, all the little pictures and gifts my kids have made me to every single card my husband has given me.

Every time I lift it's squeaky lid, I am flooded with the smell of cedar and an almost overflowing collection of memories.

Mark and I recently celebrated our 9 year wedding anniversary so I was putting the anniversary cards away in it.

Feeling a little melancholy today and missing my kids... I know I shouldn't have "lingered" there...

But I did...

And although I teared up a little at some of the children's precious projects and words to me, I also smiled a lot when I came across my high school yearbook, scrapbook, wedding album, as well as an old photo of my sister and I.

Here is my graduation picture.

Here is Mark's (husband) graduation picture. We both graduated in the same class at the same school in 1982.

Here is a yearbook picture of Mark and I in the halls of our high school.

These are my best friends from high school. From left to right: Bob (Bobby to me, lol), Irene, Mark (my husband), Me, Darrin (my highschool sweetheart of three years) & Dave. This picture was taken on Senior Skip Day. My boyfriend Darrin was good friends with my husband Mark. Bob & Mark are still best friends to this day. Bob dated my best friend Irene so we were a pretty tight group back then.

This picture was taken on Graduation night when all of us seniors had a bon fire at the lake to burn all of our homework and term papers. Left to right Bobby, Darrin, & Mark.

Here's Mark and Darrin at an "after prom party" that we went to. Mark and his date, Bob & Irene and Darrin and I all went to prom together.

Here is Mark and I on our wedding day, July 25th, 1999.

Now I'm so nostalgic over these photo's and memories. I'm listening to 80's music and reminiscing.

Here's the picture of me and my sister. We are 9 months apart.

They're Gone

theredcottagekitchen@yahoo.com (I am the MOM) — Fri, 01 Aug 2008 14:52:00 +0000

My kids left on Wednesday at 5:00pm to go to their Dads for his first extended vacation with them. They won't be back with me until 9:00am next Friday (8/8).

I don't think I'll make it :(

Blame it on the Pillow

theredcottagekitchen@yahoo.com (I am the MOM) — Wed, 30 Jul 2008 14:55:00 +0000

See that pretty little pillow, with the roses on it, gracing the middle of our bed?

Well... let's just say...

If my husband and I were to ever divorce...

We can blame it on the pillow.

I acquired that pillow from an auction on ebay. It was made from a salvaged vintage Wilender rose patterned tablecloth. I really like the way it ties our light blue gingham comforter and bedding to the little pink roses in the dark blue wallpaper, that covers the bottom half of the walls.

We have a beautiful, queen size, mahogany wood, four poster bed. It sits so high off the ground, that I will require one of those little sets of steps to get up into, when I get a little older. It has an excellent mattress set, covered with a down mattress protector, followed by Egyptian cotton sheets, followed by a lightweight down comforter, with yet another decorative comforter on top of that. The end of the bed holds a vintage popcorn chenille bedspread with an heirloom style quilted blanket throw on top of that. There are 6 pillows at the head of the bed and two layered white eyelet lace bed skirts, under the box springs, to cover the enormous space between the frame and the floor.

Most people could and would do without ALL that stuff on their bed, but I truly like the way it looks, and more than that... the way it feels. All the fluff makes me feel safe and cozy.

My husband makes that bed everyday. I kid you not... he makes our bed every single day. He pulls the flat sheet up and folds it over the the two comforters, making sure that each layer is shown. He picks up and straightens the two blankets that have inevitably slipped down onto the cedar chest, at the foot of our bed sometime during the night. He fluffs up the pillows and even arranges them so that the three different sets of pillowcases match up side by side as they are stacked three deep.

But... he won't pick up, and put back, the Wilender roses pillow that he "flicks or swats backhanded" off the bed every night. I find it every morning, on the floor, next to my side of the bed.

I've asked him about the pillow in a joking manner a few times. I always get a vague, slightly unresponsive answer, as to why the pillow remains on the floor day after day. It doesn't make sense to be able to put together a bed that most men would find intimidating and challenging, yet leave that one little ole' pillow behind.

Every once in awhile I will find the pillow on the bed, but turned vertical like the picture below.

Now, don't get me wrong. I am not complaining. I could never be mad at him about the pillow on the floor. The guy makes the bed. I can pick the pillow up. No problem. I just find it humorous.

Like a cat that shows it's protest by peeing outside the litter box... I believe that leaving the pillow on the floor is my husbands way of saying...

There's enough shit on the bed.

Shock & Sadness

theredcottagekitchen@yahoo.com (I am the MOM) — Sun, 27 Jul 2008 15:03:00 +0000

I haven’t had a whole lot to write since I’ve been back from our short holiday with the kids.

Our arrival home was met with a very sad phone call.

My Uncle Vince died while we were on vacation. My Mom, Sister, and oldest daughter waited until we got home before telling me/us.

My Uncle went in for a scheduled hip replacement surgery the other day. I had made a mental note to send him a card when I returned home from vacation.

The surgery went well and my Uncle was recovering nicely but then his blood started clotting. The hospital put him on thinners and he was told to lie very still. They told him not to even cough. But he died anyway.

This is such a shock to our family. He was only 60 something. He was a healthy person. He always exercised and watched his weight. His passing wasn’t even a remote thought to any of us.

Life just isn't fair sometimes.

I’d love to tell you about our special family bond to Uncle Vince.

My Uncle Vince “was” married to my Aunt Betty. Aunt Betty is my Mom’s sister. Uncle Vince and Aunt Betty have been divorced for years and years now, yet always remained friends.

Through the years, my Uncle Vince had become one of my Dad’s best friends. They were poker buddies. My Uncle used to work in marketing at the Mandalay Bay out in Vegas before retiring to Tennessee, where half of my family now resides. I’ve written before about meeting in Vegas for family vacations every year and so our visits out there always included time with Uncle Vince.

When my Aunt Betty decided to marry Karl in November of 2000 at The Monte Carlo in Vegas, it was my Uncle Vince that “gave” her away. Karl was always a big enough man to accept and embrace the love our family had for my Uncle Vince, despite the fact that his new wife was Uncle Vince's former wife.

We’re all originally from Michigan. Aunt Betty and Uncle Karl moved to Tennessee first. Then my parents retired there a few years ago. Then my cousin Rachel and her daughter moved there (She is Aunt Betty and Uncle Vince’s youngest daughter). Then Uncle Vince finally left Vegas for Tennessee. My sister and I are the only ones left here in Michigan now.

When Uncle Vince was waiting for the closing on his home, in Tennessee, it was Uncle Karl who insisted that Uncle Vince stay with him and Aunt Betty until it was time for the move, rather than stay in a hotel.

My sister and I, and our respective broods, would vacation in Tennessee during the summer. You should have seen “our family” take over “The Golden Corral Buffet” when meeting for meals. With the restaurants long tables, and food choices to satisfy even the pickiest of eaters, this was the best way to get together all at once, without a big mess to clean up afterwards. It was so nice to look across the table at this wonderful group of people laughing and sharing life.

And so we have been “one big happy family” for years. I always felt special to be a part of this unique family, because it wasn’t just my Aunt Betty and Uncle Vince who made it work. It was my Mom, it was my Dad, it was my cousins, it was Uncle Karl, it was us. And I had the pleasure of viewing my ideal version of what family life could be like after a marriage no longer worked. You’d never know that “divorce” was part of the equation. There was no “ex-husband”, “ex-wife”, “step-Dad” drama. There was no bitter animosity. Never was there a threatened insecure “new” spouse.

There was just a lot of love from an incredible family.

And we miss him.

The Step Drama Conclusion

theredcottagekitchen@yahoo.com (I am the MOM) — Tue, 22 Jul 2008 15:56:00 +0000

I picked up my kids this morning from their Dad's house. They've been with him and their Step Mom for the last 5 days. (They'll be with me and Step Dad (their other Dad, they call him) for the next 9 days.)

A conversation ensues as soon as I back out of ex's driveway.

Daughter - "Friday was the best day of my life. Chris (Step Mom) was having a complete melt down. She was throwing things, screaming and swearing."

Me - "How does that become the best day of your life?"

Daughter - "Because Dad finally yelled back at her. He told her she was self-centered and that he was sick of her melt downs and tantrums. He said that she thinks of no one else, but herself."

Wow! Hallelujah! Their Father is finally standing up to her. It's about freaking time!

He may actually NOT loose his kids if he can manage to retrain his 2nd wife on the proper way to behave and treat him and his children.

There's a favorite line that Dr. Phil always says and that is:

"You treat people how to treat you."

It's so true.!

Everyone's been walking on egg shells around Step Mom for so long now. Nobody wants to put her in her place or call her out because she's trying to have a baby and can't. Oh well... sorry about that. I honestly am. But you can't just be a witch forever because life didn't go the way you wanted it to.

And my ex-husband can't allow his wife to do and say mean things to our children because she is hurting over the cards she was dealt. He can't sacrifice our children because she is on hormones. I'm sure his wife isn't screaming, swearing and throwing things at her place of work. That wouldn't be allowed. But she's been able to get away with horrible behavior in her own home for so long and hopefully it will get better now.

Anyway... the kids are here now. They are excited about our vacation and are helping each other pack.

The drama is over for us for the next 9 days.

(But not for my ex-husband, I'll bet ... *wink* *wink*)

What Did She Just Say??

theredcottagekitchen@yahoo.com (I am the MOM) — Tue, 22 Jul 2008 10:14:00 +0000

Five weeks ago, I gave the dates to my ex-husband for my two 9-Day, uninterrupted vacations, that he and I both get during the summer with our kids. These uninterrupted vacations over-rule our normal split custody.

I took my first vacation with the kids a couple of weeks ago.

My second vacation with them starts tomorrow (7/22).

My daughter calls me yesterday (Sunday 7/20) and here is our short conversation.

"I'm forced to call you."

"What's going on?"

"Dad & Chris told me to call you to find out what we're doing on vacation with you."

"Why?"

"Because they want me to go to Volleyball camp. I don't even want to go. It's not through the school. And we're going to be on vacation, right?"

"Well, when is volleyball camp?"

"Tommorrow."

"WHAT? Tomorrow as in day after today????"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm sorry, you'll be unable to go. We will be on vacation then. We're going to CP & SC for a couple of days."

"That's what I told Chris (Step Mom) and she said,
well... your Mom can change her dates on that."

NOW...

Insert LOUD HYSTERICAL UNCONTROLLABLE laughter here as I try to spit out coherent words in response to that RIDICULOUS statement...

"Ummmmm, *Snort* *ROTF* I am not changing my dates on anything. Have your Father email me if he'd like to discuss it."

"Ok, that's what I'll tell them."

And we hang up.

SIDE BAR 1:
My ex-husband and his wife are FOREVER signing my kids up for stuff, year round, non stop WITH never a consultation or inquiry to me about it. Even when it interferes with my court ordered parenting time. We have gone back and forth on this for years and I won't go any deeper into that drama today, but lets just say, that I am very accommodating to my children's' sports schedules because it's something my kids want to do. I adjust my schedule for my children.

I have let my ex-husband know that I will happily cooperate with schedule adjustments so that "J" (our son) can play hockey in the fall/winter and lacrosse in the spring. "S" (our daughter) can play any school sport or be involved with anything through her high school during the school year. BUT there are to be NO COMMITMENTS during the summer. If you choose to sign them up for "stuff" in the summer, they will NOT be available during my court ordered parenting time.

(As a Mother who values time with my kids, family & friends, I don't think it's too much to ask that my children have some "down-time" from constant commitments and continuous weekend games/practices/tournaments for the precious 2 1/2 months of summer vacation)

SIDE BAR 2:
Did I not give him/them 5 weeks notice on this vacation?
Do they have their heads so far up their a$$'s in attempts to produce yet another child to neglect, that they can't manage to mention "volleyball camp" a little sooner than TWO DAYS BEFORE IT STARTS??? HELLLLLOOOOOOOOO???????

We could have switched our plans with proper notice. My husband took 3 days off of work this week. We are NOT changing our plans with two days notice because they don't have their crap together. DUH!!

What NERVE! I can't even believe that Biotch had the hormonal balls to say "well... your Mom can change her dates on that."

But then again, I can.

You gotta almost feel sorry for the crazy woman. Poor thing. She can't control what we do on our time and it drives her batty.

So my daughter called today to tell me her Step Mom's response to us being on vacation at CP & SC.

"Chris said,... well maybe we're not going to pay for you to play volleyball and soccer this year, since you're obviously not committed."

WHAT DID SHE JUST SAY????

My vacation, planned FIVE WEEKS AGO! has nothing to do with my daughters commitment to her sports.

I am the parent. I made vacation plans with MY kids as I have the RIGHT to do.

DO NOT VISIT YOUR ANGER OF YOUR INABILITY TO CONTROL ME, ON MY DAUGHTER!!!

God! That Biotch makes me so mad. She's just talking out of her a$$ and is constantly making threatening comments such as that, like the immature baby that she is, just to hurt and assert her power over my kids.

Take your "hostile uterus" and Go to He11!

Cause "we're going on vacation!"

Stepmama Drama

theredcottagekitchen@yahoo.com (I am the MOM) — Mon, 21 Jul 2008 18:45:00 +0000

I have avoided posting, in detail, the fact that my children's Step mom has been trying to have a child of her own with my ex-husband. (She has no children).

The go of it has been unsuccessful for them for at least of couple of years now.

Not that it is any of my business, I personally, along with many others, do not believe that my ex-husband actually wants any more children. He had 3 at one time, stopped talking to the oldest, has no idea how many times the middle one wants to walk away from him ... so, why would he really want to attempt his fate with more? I'm sure he "goes along" with his 2nd wife's desire and need to have a child between them, because... gee... what else can he do? Besides, if the child care responsibilities are anything like they were when I was married to him, she'll be doing most of the work, but I digress...

His 2nd wife has a "hostile uterus" as she herself has exclaimed the doctor's told her in one of her blog posts.

Really?

A hostile uterus??

Go figure, right??

Could it possibly be the cortisol that obviously runs through her veins from the constant stress she brings on herself, by trying to pretend I don't exist or ever slept with the man she is now married too???

She actually blamed me once for her inability to get pregnant, in yet another blog post, because I referenced the church I married my ex-husband in at one of my daughters volleyball games when my daughter was playing that same Catholic school. (Next time, don't sit so close to me and you won't have to eavesdrop on my conversations that aren't with you in the first place)

There I go again straying from the point of the post ... sorry.

Anyway, they/she tried everything, including in vitro as recently as July 4th of this year and apparently, the three eggs implanted, did not "stick".

I honestly do not take any pleasure in her inability to get pregnant. I'm not a hurtful hateful person. I am only interested how "what she does" and "what she says" affects my children. Period.

Unfortunately, my children are in "that house" while their Step mom suffers with her sad news, until tomorrow morning at 9:00am, when I pick them up for their next 9 day vacation with me.

My kids have called me often since they went to their Dad's Wednesday evening with claims of not being able to wait to get back home with me.

"We have so much to tell you Mom when you pick us up on Tuesday. Me and "J" (my son) can't wait to get out of here."

My kids aren't supposed to even know they're trying to have a baby. "They" (ex-husband and Step Mom) haven't discussed it with the children, BUT because of frequent screaming sessions and chats in "the crying room" (the basement where Step Mom goes to vent), used pregnancy tests found in the trash, and overheard phone conversations, my kids started asking me questions a long time ago and they know. DUH!

They know that "their college funds" have been tapped.

They know that "they" (ex-husband & Step Mom) can't afford ANYTHING. At all. Ever. (And that somehow, this is also supposed to be attributed to me, because Jesus H. Christ, ex-hubby had to pay me child support 5 YEARS AGO, when they DROVE the oldest daughter to come live with me full time. They paid child support for 9 months 5 years ago. Are they in debt over that???)

Did I stray again?

I did, didn't I?

So ... I imagine it's been pretty stressful over there at Dad's house this past week.

Understandably so.

Poor kids. I'm sure it's not been much of a summer vacation while having to deal with the trauma over there, yet not having the ability to speak of it or ask questions.

Tune in tomorrow when they spill the beans to me over our 23 mile trip back home ...

Jealousy & Envy

theredcottagekitchen@yahoo.com (I am the MOM) — Mon, 21 Jul 2008 11:56:00 +0000

In my first marriage, I can remember feeling jealous and envious of friends and family more times than I’d care to count.

The reasons were always ridiculous and immature.

“They have more money than me.”

“Their house is nicer than mine.”

“She’s thinner than me.”

“Their kids are better dressed than mine.”

Blah… blah… blah…

What a waste of time and energy. Looking back now, I realize how unhappy I was. I was in this very unsatisfying marriage for years. It drained the life right out of me. I became petty. I could gossip for hours. I felt lonely and angry.

Ugggghhhhh. I cringe at the thought of that person I once was.

But when I married my second husband, my true identity came out and something within me really started to shine. I could honestly feel a physical/emotional change from the moment I fell in love with him. I laughed much more. Rarely found reason to raise my voice in anger. Gossip became something I had no time or desire to engage in.

I truly started appreciating the gifts in my life.
I became a better Mother, a better Sister, a better Daughter and a better friend. I can’t tell you how many times friends and family have literally said “I can tell you’re so happy” to me. I changed almost instantly and it was a fabulous difference from the woman I had been before.

I have not felt jealous or envious of anyone or anything in years. And I know it has to do with my husband.

I wouldn’t trade my happiness with him for anything.

Not for more money

Not for a nicer house

Not for a thinner body

Not even for better dressed kids ;)

His friendship and love allowed me to be the person that was always jealously and enviously waiting to live her life.

Triple Milled Soap

theredcottagekitchen@yahoo.com (I am the MOM) — Sun, 20 Jul 2008 08:32:00 +0000

I like to shop at T.J. Maxx. For those of you not familiar with that store, I would describe it as a place to find nicer “name-brand” items at discounted prices. I would even go so far as to say, you can find unique stuff there too.

Most of the store inventory is name brand clothing. I’m not really into clothes (or name brand anything) It’s the small amount of luxurious bath products and few home goods isles that draw me in.

I love to smell all the lotions, fragrances and soaps. I’m forever tipping the bottles and boxes upside down to see if the price is reasonable. The prices, even at a discount, are rarely reasonable, in my opinion.

But every once in great while, when they have done their seasonal markdowns, I will actually find something at a good price and buy it.

About a year ago, I saw a lovely purple box of Lavender triple milled soap. The box was covered in a fleur de lis pattern and had a satin ribbon tab for opening. Over the two bars of soap sat a piece of vellum paper, claiming the soap to be hand made of the finest natural ingredients. When I turned this beauty of a box over, the red markdown sticker, on the bottom, read $2.00. “Mine” I exclaimed loud enough for everyone to hear as I gently placed the treasure in my cart.

Oh how I have loved this box of triple milled soap (whatever triple milled means). I’ve opened it often throughout the year to take in the scent of lavender. I enjoy the way it sounds when I lift the lid up by it’s regal lavender ribbon. The bars are embossed with “Fior di Campo” (again… whatever that means… sounds fancy)

I have been saving this special box of soap for almost a year. It has graced my dresser, my vanity and the bathroom counter at different times through out the past months.

I never intended to actually use the soap. I just wanted to “have” the soap.

Dare to use one of the special triple milled lavender $1.00 bars of soap? Oh, I couldn’t… I’m saving them.

Saving them for what?? Am I leaving them to one of my girls when I die? (I wouldn’t bother leaving them to my son since he has shown himself to have no use for soap ;)

Today, when I went to shower, I noticed the bar soap, on the soap dish, was only a sliver so I went in the linen closet to get another bar.

We’re out of bar soap….

We’re out of bar soap, except for the special triple milled lavender soap in the regal looking box.

Can I shower without soap? I think NOT!

So, I reluctantly took out a bar of my special soap for the shower. It was difficult for me. I was saving that soap.

But, I’m OK now. The soap was really creamy and smelled delicious. I may actually use the other bar sometime, though highly doubtful.

The $285 T-Shirt

theredcottagekitchen@yahoo.com (I am the MOM) — Sat, 19 Jul 2008 08:30:00 +0000

My husband has a favorite T-Shirt.

Wait a minute…

My husband has MANY favorite T-Shirts. He has a bunch of IT (Information Technologies) shirts that he gets through the work he does. He’s got a bunch of Detroit sports T-Shirts. He has two large dresser drawers devoted to nothing but T-Shirts, but I digress.

One of the T-shirts he wears a lot is the $285.00 T-shirt.

A couple of summers ago a group of our friends and family flew out to Las Vegas to vacation together. Although we enjoy staying at the Treasure Island, we often find ourselves down at a little joint called O’Shea’s. It’s this Irish themed casino right in the heart of strip, located somewhere between The Flamingo and Bally’s. They always have drink specials and you can play Black Jack there for $5.00 a hand.

This particular summer, O’Shea’s was running a promotion for Black Jack players. If you got a same suit Black Jack, you got a really cool O’Shea’s T-shirt. The shirt says “I got lucky at O’Shea’s” pictured with this cute rockin leprechaun on it.

Well… don’t you know, I won “my” T-shirt within an hour of playing on the first day we were there. My husband and I stayed to play Black Jack for hours that day, hoping that he could win a T-Shirt too. He didn’t. So we went back the next day. My husband had plenty of Black Jack’s… just no same suited Black Jack hands.

He wanted a T-Shirt in the worst way. You couldn’t buy them. They weren’t for sale. You had to win one. I offered to give him mine. (I don’t really wear T-Shirts anyway) Nope… he wasn’t having that. It’s not the same as winning one. He was becoming obsessed. Would somebody please get this guy a damn shirt already!

Jesus H. Christ… $285.00 later, he won his T-Shirt.

Thank God!

He wears his shirt to death. The other day, he wanted to wear it to a friends house for dinner, but when he went to put it on, I noticed a stain on the front.

“Sorry, honey… you can’t wear that shirt today. I can get the stain out with a bleach stick, but not before we have to leave.”

Oh my Gosh… poor guy. He was bumming.

I let him wear mine ; )

Company Inspires Cleaning

theredcottagekitchen@yahoo.com (I am the MOM) — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 08:30:00 +0000

My sister and her two kids came over on Tuesday to spend the day with us. They were to arrive around 11:00am so that we could take the kids to lunch, go play a game of Lazer Tag, take a spin in the bumper cars, and then come back to my house for an afternoon in the pool.

My 15 year old daughter had done her weekly chores a couple of days earlier, but my son had not yet. So, I called him downstairs to do his part. He had to sweep and mop the kitchen (Whoever invented the Swiffer mop, I thank you from the bottom of my heart), empty all the trash cans (there are 6 of them), shake the rugs on the front porch and sweep it too.

I found myself wiping down the guest bathroom, vacuuming the living room, my office and my bedroom, cleaning the master bathroom (even though it's in our room and nobody will be using it cept hubby and me).

There was a time, back in my 20's (some 20 years ago) that my whole identity seemed to sadly revolve around a clean house. I was ridiculously obsessed with every detail. I had regular cleaning rituals each day and would get so anxious and downright crabby every time I threw a party or had company coming over. Geeze... what a looser!

I'm not that person anymore. Housework is way down on my list of priorities. I'm not a slob. Our home is always neat and I will scrub out a toilette if I've waited long enough for a ring to form, but I no longer have a cleaning day.

With the help of teenagers, the general surface housework gets done weekly around here. The kids dust, vacuum, clean their own bathroom, mop, sweep, unload/load the dishwasher, fold and put away their own clean clothes. They get paid an allowance for this and it really relieves me of a lot of work.

But thank God, we have company once in awhile, cuz it is then, that I really take a closer look at the things that may have been neglected for longer than they should have.

I should invite some friends over this weekend. The house won't be this clean for months.

My Smoothie Morning

theredcottagekitchen@yahoo.com (I am the MOM) — Tue, 15 Jul 2008 08:28:00 +0000

I'm trying to take some weight off this summer and although I don't/can't do the no-carb diets, I have found that low-carb eating works well for me. Staying away from high carb foods helps me loose weight while not being hungry. (I hate being hungry)

In my efforts to find healthy alternatives to cereal for breakfast, I have become obsessed with fruit Smoothies.

Today's fruit was fresh raspberries from our garden, but I love them with pineapple, mandarin oranges, mango, blueberries, strawberries or 1/2 banana. Once all the ingredients are added together, it makes almost 2 Cups of drink and it keeps me full till lunchtime.

My cute little 2 1/4 Cup blender is just perfect for the job.

I start most mornings with the following recipe.

2 TBS Milled Flax Seed
1/3 Cup Light & Fit Vanilla Yogurt
1 Cup Vanilla Soy Milk
2 Scoops Whey & Protein Powder
1/3 Cup Fruit

That works out to about:

333 Calories, 10 Grams Fat, 7 Grams Fiber, 20 Grams Carbohydrates, and 36 Grams of Protein

YUM!!!
Good Morning Y'all. Have a SMOOTH day!

I Couldn't Be Happier

theredcottagekitchen@yahoo.com (I am the MOM) — Thu, 10 Jul 2008 08:27:00 +0000

My husband and I had a delightful 4th of July weekend together. The kids were at their Dad's, so we had lots of time to do stuff and "nothing" together.

We swam in the pool on Saturday and played board games out on the back deck well past darkness. It was so fun. We listened to music, slept with the windows open and ate breakfast with fresh raspberries from our garden.

Our little 3 year old granddaughter came over for a visit and of course, we just love spending time with her.

Then when 9:00am on Tuesday FINALLY arrived, thus began a 9 day "uninterrupted" vacation for me and my children. And so far, I have savored every moment of it. You may or may not know what it is like to be without your children for periods of time. It is, sadly, a casualty of divorce in my situation. On one hand, I'm am happy that their Dad chose to remain a part of their lives. He wouldn't settle for being a weekend Dad and I do commend him for that. On the other hand... days go by that I don't see my kids. In the beginning, shortly after our divorce, being apart from them was excruciating for me. I couldn't make it from Wednesday to Sunday without some kind of meltdown from missing them. I always ended up in tears by Sunday at 6:00pm. But as time has gone on, I've been able to adjust to the schedule. It is what it is. I learned to accept it.

And so, since my kids have been here, we've been hanging out together. Eating together on nights that they are usually with their Dad. Watching TV shows that they are sometimes not here for. Playing cards. Swimming in the pool. Watching movies. Playing volleyball. Making brownies.

There is more laundry this week. The dishwasher is running every day. There's grass all over the back stairs and towels strewn over the chairs on the deck. We're running out of food.

There are still 6 more overnights together.

And I couldn't be happier...

Solicitors

theredcottagekitchen@yahoo.com (I am the MOM) — Wed, 02 Jul 2008 22:00:00 +0000

I had two solicitors knock on my door yesterday.

The first solicitor was a girl, about 18 or 19, selling magazine subscriptions. She was very well spoken, very polite. I think she said that she was earning points for something to do with college.

I told her "no thank you" as politely as I could. I honestly get a ton a magazines. My mom, sister and I subscribe to many of them and share.

Then she wanted to know if I wanted to "donate" a subscription.

Again, "no thank you."

She practically begged me.

Later in the day, a young man knocked on my door. He looked to be around 20 years old. He was nicely dressed in a shirt and tie.

As soon as I opened the door, he shoved this can of air freshener in my hand claiming it to be a free gift. I was a little shocked and stunned. He was talking so fast and bouncing up and down on the porch. He asked me if I would accept his free gift and I said, well... I guess so. He thanked me and said, "I'll be right back." He ran to his car parked in front of my house and out pops another guy, around the same age, dressed the same way, and they both proceed to head up my porch steps with this big box. I said "What is this all about?" And one of them said, "Oh, we'd just like to show you some cleaning products."

I said, "Oh, no... I am not interested in seeing or buying cleaning products. I don't clean." (lol)

He said "That's ok, I know you're not going to buy anything, but I just want to show them to you."

I said "No, I don't want to see them. My husband will be home any minute and we're going out." (It was Wednesday night = Date night)

He said "Just let me clean a little area of your carpet."

I said "We have hard wood floors."

He said "I can clean that too."

No thank you.

Good God!!

I feel really sorry for the people who subject themselves to this kind of door to door sales tactic. Does anyone really ever buy anything?

They are relentless and don't take no for an answer.

I don't like to be abrupt or rude, but Gosh... it was really annoying to have to fend off two of them in one day.

Wash Your Hands

theredcottagekitchen@yahoo.com (I am the MOM) — Mon, 30 Jun 2008 22:06:00 +0000

Wash your hands.

It is a three word sentence.

At times, it is a plea. Other times ... a command.

Wash your hands.

How many times have I uttered these words?

I have three children. My oldest daughter is 22. I stopped telling her to wash her hands years and years ago.

My middle daughter is 15. It's been quite awhile since I had to tell her to wash her hands.

But the 13 year old boy that lives here... ???

Not a day goes by, when he's home with me, that those words don't find their way out of my mouth.

WASH YOUR HANDS.

It all started with the boy right around the potty training years. He was approaching 3 years old. He would go to the bathroom and I would make him wash his hands.

And just like anything, consistency and routine were the order of the day to train him to wash his hands ALWAYS after going to the bathroom.

But, 10 years later, I am still waiting for this boy to manage this passage on his own.

Wash your hands.

I don't want to say those words anymore.

I want the boy to wash his hands after he goes to the bathroom.

In the early morning hours, he used to try to sneak to the bathroom, closing the door ever so quietly, NOT flushing the toilet, then tiptoe out, just to avoid washing his hands. But I'd bust him as he would inevitably run up the stairs to his room, cluing me in to what he was doing on the first floor. I'd come flying out of my bedroom and make him come back down to wash.

He used to flush the toilet and just run the water in the sink, leading me to believe he had washed his hands. He'd come out of the bathroom and even wipe his "wet" hands on his pants to drive home the point to "whoever" may actually check to see if he really washed his hands. I caught on to that one when I stood outside the door one day and actually caught him with dry (filthy) hands.

He then moved to, turning on the water and sticking just his fingertips in the water and then flicking the water on me to prove he'd washed. His sister caught him wiggling an inch of fingers in the water one day, sans soap and figured out what his latest hand washing hoax was.

He graduated to squirting soft soap in the sink and running the water for long periods of time, making a ton of bubbles. He'd spend so much time on this, that I was just sure he'd washed his hands, but sadly found out that he'd only gotten the sink really clean, not his hands.

And once I caught him just putting soft soap on his hands, rubbing it in like lotion, and walking out of the bathroom.

He hates getting caught.

I hate catching him.

Why won't he just wash his damn hands???

It's a simple task. The water's right there. The sink is just right for his height. The liquid soap comes out of the pump easily. The towel hangs right next to the sink.

Simple.

Right?

But don't you know, I just told him to wash his hands.

How Do You Do It?

theredcottagekitchen@yahoo.com (I am the MOM) — Wed, 25 Jun 2008 16:48:00 +0000

How do you do it??

Blog... that is.

Some days, my brain feels empty or maybe just uninspired.

Some days, I don't feel like talking, sharing or blogging. Not because I'm in a bad mood or anything... just not feeling it, ya know?

Some days, thoughts or happenings from my past inspire an article.

Other days, it's simply outlining what I did for the day or the day before.

If I haven't checked "my friends" blogs in a couple of days or so... I feel a little anxious and overwhelmed. I'll start at the top of my buddy list and make sure I've read all the articles I have missed since from them since my last visit.

I comment on just about every article I read.

I visit the blogs of the new visitors that have visited my page, and usually add them to my friends list.

I try to be positive and encouraging when commenting. I would never intentionally hurt someones feelings.

I have my own opinions about many topics.

I feel everyone is entitled to their own opinion too, so I don't criticize or try to maneuver anyone to my point of view.

That's how I do it.

The Adopted Son

theredcottagekitchen@yahoo.com (I am the MOM) — Tue, 24 Jun 2008 16:47:00 +0000

We moved in this house the second weekend of October in 1998.

My son was 4 years old. My daughters were 6 & 13.

We were all playing in the driveway on a Sunday afternoon, after unpacking all weekend long. A little boy kept walking back and forth in front of our house. After a few minutes of this, it occurred to me that the little boy probably wanted to play with my kids. So we invited him over. His name is Nino. And he was 4 years old, just like my son.

It wasn't but a few short minutes that Nino was playing with us, when his Dad came looking for him. He introduced himself to me and my husband and welcome us to the neighborhood. He told us that his wife had just died of ovarian cancer a few short weeks ago. Poor guy. He could barely speak without crying. He and his son were going to be staying with his parents, three houses down from us, for awhile.

Unfortunately, Nino's Dad was involved in a serious car crash shortly following our first conversation with him. The accident left him badly injured, unable to walk without the assistant of braces/crutches.

That was almost 10 years ago now. Since then, Nino has become a part of our family. He is our "unofficially" adopted son. He's the dark haired boy that shows up everywhere with my two blonde kids. He's the child that sits in the middle of the back seat when we ride in my car.

He spends at least one night at our house during the weekends that my kids are home with me. He's here for hours on end. He eats here. He swims here. He plays here and sleeps here. He knows my children's visitation schedule with me, better than any other relative, living outside of this house, does. Our granddaughter thinks he lives here.

We take him places with us. To the movies. Putt putt golfing. Blockbuster. Lazer tag. Dairy Queen. Go Karts. Shopping. He has long since stopped having to ask permission to go anywhere with us. It is a given that he is safe when in our care.

And so, I've had a subtle hand in raising this boy. He knows what words I don't approve of. I've warned him about too much sarcasm. I've told him to wash his hands, shut the door, throw that away and quiet down right along with telling my own kids the same thing.

My husband and I have told him good job, nice manners, thank you, and you're welcome, as we echo those words to our kids.

Nino is my son's best friend. Another brother to my daughters. An uncle to our granddaughter.

His Grandma has thanked me countless times for all we do with Nino. I know that she and Nino's Dad are grateful that we take such good care of him.

But we are truly grateful Nino found us.

My kids have been with their Dad since Wednesday evening. I just picked them up this morning.

And there's my adopted son Nino, at the front door now ...

Hail to the Graduate!

theredcottagekitchen@yahoo.com (I am the MOM) — Sun, 22 Jun 2008 16:45:00 +0000

Yesterday, my husband and I attended a graduation party of one of our dear friends son.

The party started at 2:00pm. Our group of friends planned on all getting there around 4:00pm.

Earlier in the day, my husband and I were working on installing a fountain for our pool. My oldest daughter walked over to our house with her daughter to go swimming with us. I commented on what a beautiful day it was for the graduation party and how grateful I was for the hosts.

It was warm and sunny. I got a little sunburned.

I went in the house around 2:30pm to shower and get ready for the graduation party.

Dark clouds moved in quickly. There was lots of lightning and thunder. It was super windy.

Then it started to hail.

Hail like I've never witnessed in my life!
It rained so hard, the streets were flooding. The temperature dropped 20 degrees.

The graduation party was only 20 minutes from our house. I prayed that our friends had the where with all to rent tents, but even then, the rain was blowing sideways.

We made it to the party. Thank Goodness, there were tents, which we were all huddled under for most of the evening.

We had a great time visiting with all of our friends. This was the first "kick-start" party of our summer. We made plans and promises of getting together this summer. There is a girls get away day in the works. Our group of friends and our kids are meeting at the Dream Cruise in August. And we're all dying to try out Bill and Gayle's margarita machine so we've set aside a night for that.

The Missing Elusive Sock

theredcottagekitchen@yahoo.com (I am the MOM) — Fri, 20 Jun 2008 19:26:00 +0000

Wouldn't you know... On my last load of laundry today, I come up with a lone sock missing it's mate.

It prompted me to find my old "sock" article and repost it.

THE ELUSIVE SOCK:

There are times when I've done the laundry, as most have, and come up with a missing sock. The missing socks in our home always turn right up in the next load. A sock is never alone for long here.

But two weeks ago, one of my husband's socks was missing it's mate and it didn't turn up in the next load... or the next.... or the next.... never!

This really troubled my organized (anal) husband. He was sincerely bothered about the missing sock. He was concerned about it's whereabouts.... what happened to it.... well, where was it.... how can a sock just disappear?? .... (You'd not really believe how many conversations turned to where the damn sock was or did I find it yet, lol)

So ... not only was he concerned about the missing sock.... he simply did not know what to do with the "non-missing" sock! He actually asked me "What should I do with this sock??" (HUH?!)

I put the lone sock in his sock drawer with sure anticipation that it's mate would soon turn up. My husband took the lone sock out of his drawer. (He couldn't have the lone sock in his drawer... it apparently messed him up, LOL)

So the lone sock sat on top of his dresser for a couple days. This must have mis-aligned him with the planets, and caused sever anxiety, because he moved it to the top of my dresser. Now, I'm bothered. Why do I have to have his lone sock on MY dresser? Why do I have to look at his lone sock for weeks anyway??

So... I put it in a place where it could be found when the mate turned up.

The mate never turned up.

FAST FORWARD A COUPLE OF WEEKS!

I get a phone call from husband while he's at work.

Husband:
"Do you want to hear something funny?"

Me:
"Of course, I do"

Husband:
"I got to work and went to rest my arm on my desk and felt a bulge in my shirt sleeve."

Me:
"OH THE MISSING ELUSIVE SOCK!!!" (ummm... THANK GOD!)

Husband:
"Yeah, the sock. I walked around all morning, at home, with this shirt on. I drank coffee. I brushed my teeth. I shaved. I put my coat on. I drove the kids to school and then drove all the way to work. And it was only when I put my arm on my desk that I realized there was a BULGE in my sleeve."

Me:
"Cool...I'll go tell the good news to the lonely sock and prepare him for the reunion."

Dang it, I can't find it! Now that sock is missing.

ps. I guess I'll start checking shirt sleeves.

Artists

theredcottagekitchen@yahoo.com (I am the MOM) — Fri, 20 Jun 2008 17:04:00 +0000

For all the artists and art fans out there ... Allow me to introduce some of my Uncle Jack Beal's works to you.

These next (4) murals hang in The Department of Labor in Washington D.C.
I have only had the pleasure of viewing them once while vacationing there. It is quite magnificent to see. The paintings are HUGE.

Beal Murals, 17th Century.

Beal Murals, 18th Century.

Beal Murals, 19th Century.

Beal Murals, 20th Century. (That is my Aunt Sandy, Uncle Jack's wife, in the yellow hard hat.)

These next two are paintings were turned into mosaics and can be seen in the Times Square Subway Station on 42nd street.

The Return of Spring (above) / The Onset of Winter (below),
Two 7'x20' glass mosaic murals at the 41st St. IRT mezzanine,
New York City, 1999 and 2003, respectively.

The pair of mosaics "The Return of Spring" and "The Onset of Winter" depict various New York City street scenes and were paintings translated to mosaics by Artistic Mosaics Travisanutto of Italy. They were first unveiled to the public at the Gallery of Modern Art in Udine, Italy, in 1999 and 2003 respectively. "The Return of Spring" depicts construction workers and other city dwellers in front of a rendering of an original IRT subway kiosk. The scene depicted in "The Onset of Winter" is a crowd (some with faces of the artist's friends) watching a film crew record a scene of a woman entering the subway, as the first snowflakes of winter come down on the background New York skyline.

(Source: udine.it)

You can view the installed mosaics in person at the Times Square/42nd Street IRT Subway station.

If my childhood memory serves me well, our family spent a week or two during summer vacation at my Aunt and Uncles farm in upstate New York and my Grandma would pose for this work. She is "Charity" (on the right) in the painting and she actually owned and wore that shirt with the hands on it.

Hope, Faith, Charity
Oil on canvas, 72 in. by 72 in., 1977-78.
G.U.C. Collection

My Uncle Jack is married to my Aunt Sandy. She is a wonderful artist too with many beautiful water color prints. They have been married for over 50 years. A couple of years back our family all met at their farm to celebrate their anniversary. It was a big, huge bash. So much fun!

I Wish He Knew

theredcottagekitchen@yahoo.com (I am the MOM) — Thu, 19 Jun 2008 19:23:00 +0000

My kids left yesterday (Wednesday) at 5:00pm to go to their other home with their Dad.

They won't be back with me until 9:00am Tuesday morning. That seems like forever at this point, though I know it's not.

Usually Wednesday evenings are date nights for me and my husband, but I didn't feel like going out.

I'm trying to get it together so that we can go out tonight instead.

But ... something is bothering me.

It's the same thing that bothers me from time to time, over the years. It's the thing that I feel helpless to do anything about. It's the train wreck that shows itself to me through my children's actions and words about their lives at Dad's.

It's what I wish "He" knew...

"He" ... being my ex-husband. Father of my children. The man I was with and married too for almost 10 years. The man who abandoned our oldest daughter. It's the man I haven't spoken a verbal word too in over 3 years. It's the man that I have forgiven now... the man I actually feel sorry for...

For what I wish he knew...

And what I wish he knew... Is all the things I know.

Things like how my children feel about him and their stepmother. Things like how they would live with me in a heartbeat if I lived in "Dad's" neighborhood.

Things like...

How I stick up for him when my children complain about him.

How my sacrifice to actually stay put, living in the same neighborhood we all peacefully lived in once, has actually bought him more time with his own kids, because they're forced to live in both homes. And hopefully the children will mature enough (past their Father even) to come to terms with the unfairness of their situation to understand that Dad must have done the best he could at the time with what he had.

I wish he knew things like...

How I gently push my children towards accepting him to try and maintain a relationship with him, for after all... he is their Father.

I wish he knew how they feel the need to smuggle "their own personal possession's" between "their" homes.

I wish he knew how our son will not share his drawings and comic series with them because his step mom will comment that he should be studying instead of drawing.

I wish he knew how annoyed our children are that their step mom still insists on marking their underwear and bras with their initials in permanent black marker.

I wish he knew how sadly guarded our children have become when expressing themselves in his home.

I wish he knew the psychological games our children have had to master in order to cope in his home.

I wish he knew that the counselor I used to take the children too said that the one and only person who actually needs the counseling is their Father, not the children.

I wish he knew how our kids hope and pray that their Dad will pick them up from me instead of their step mom, because she will complain, harass and badger them all the 23 miles to their other home.

I wish he knew how upsetting it is for our children when their step mom talks bad about me or their older sister in front of them.

I wish he knew how many times our 15 year old daughter has called me crying from his house.

I wish he knew how often I've pleaded with the kids to communicate their feelings to their Dad.

There are truly a hundred things I wish he knew, but most of all...

I wish he knew that these kids don't plan on having a relationship with him when they actually have a choice about it.

I wish I could stop what is in the works, but I know that I can't.

I couldn't stop it between he and I.

I couldn't stop it between he and our oldest daughter.

I wish I could fix it.

I wish he knew that our youngest daughter just called me from his house this very second, said a couple of things about what she was doing today, and then whispered quickly "Dad's coming... I gotta go... love you... miss you already... bye" ... as if she's not "allowed" to be speaking to her Mother while at that house.

I wish he knew...

Sweet Sounds Of Summer

theredcottagekitchen@yahoo.com (I am the MOM) — Wed, 18 Jun 2008 19:21:00 +0000

For the last couple of days, my next door neighbors K & M have been teaching their oldest son, K Junior to ride a two wheeler.

Back and forth the little guy goes past my house, followed by a parade of siblings chasing after him on foot.

K Juniors Dad will count...

One...
Two...
Three...

And then off little K Junior goes ... trying to master it.

I can hear encouraging shouts of "Pedal, Pedal... PEDAL" from his Dad.

His Mom can be heard from her watchful post on the porch steps saying "Ohhhhhhhh .... you almost had it" when he falls down.

K Juniors younger siblings make excellent cheerleaders.

Is there any nicer sound?

Oh wait... here comes the ice cream truck!

Ahhhh.... The Sweet Sounds of Summer!