What's Cookin', Good-lookin'?

Is this a midlife crisis? Is it menopause? Is it premenstrual premenopausal problems? Is it early onset dementia? A.D.D.? Heatstroke?

Seriously, there is something wrong with me. I'm excited about buying a cookbook.  A cookbook!! I don't cook, folks. I really don't.

This confession made to another Roaring Mom nearly ended our friendship.

Me: I don't cook.
Friend: That can't be true. You feed your kids something. What did you have for dinner last night.
Me: Cereal.
Friend: Cereal? That's it?
Me: (Proudly) No, that's not it. I thought we should also have some lean protein, so we had shrimp cocktail, too.
Friend: (Dead stare) Cereal and shrimp cocktail? I don't think we can be friends anymore.

My dear children still remind me of the time I did try to cook dinner and had to bring out my Emphatic Voice (you know, the one they say sounds a lot like my Angry Voice) when they kept interrupting me. What can I say? I was putting a lot of thought and effort into it. I had purchased those Tostitos Scoops chips. I carefully spooned a bit of canned refried beans topped with a dab of pre-shredded cheese into each one. I placed the plate in the microwave, set the timer, and kept watch so they wouldn't over heat. No one likes cheese that's been over-micro melted into plastic. The kids had no respect for my slaving over this creative cooking.

While I stood watch, I heard from beyond the kitchen: Where's my cleats? What time is practice? Can you help me with my homework? I need poster board for school tomorrow.


Finally, I had HAD it! I yelled...er, uh, said emphatically..."Can't you see I'm trying to make dinner here?!"

"Mom, it's nachos."

"It's fancy nachos!!"

Ungrateful kids.

So the fact that I am now excited over the launch of a new cookbook is kind of...weird. Something strange happened to me this summer. I got hooked on eating. I mean really eating. Not stuffing my face. Not grazing. Not snacking. Not snarfing. Just eating for nutrition, to fuel my body, to create a healthy  me.

So far, I've been able to get by without actually cooking. The grocery store makes a mean roasted chicken and the deli sells delicious shredded turkey. These foods fit beautifully into the 21 Day Fix program I've been using as a guide to better health. Now Autumn Calabrese has created the Fixate Cookbook full of 101 recipes for my 21 Day Fix. They include vegan, vegetarian, Paleo, healthy meals for a healthy me. For a healthy family!

My Roaring Mom Friend has often told me that sometimes she thinks food = love. Some moms overfeed and under nourish. Some try a special show of affection with fancy nachos. Some get it right and fuel their kids for health, success, fitness, and all that good stuff. I might be a little late getting on that band wagon, but at least I'm getting on.

The 21 Day Fix has lasted a lot longer than 21 Days. It has certainly fixed a lot of what I didn't want to realize needed fixing. I feel better. I have more confidence and more energy and now a new interest in learning a new skill--cooking! The best thing, however, is hearing my kids say, "Mom, we are so proud of you!" Those are just about the sweetest words a Roaring Mom can hear.

Interested in starting your own 21 Day Fix? Comment below or click here to order your own Fix!

If God Doesn't Make No Junk, How Come My House Was Full of It?

I've heard it said that to make room for new in your life, you must get rid of the old. Well, if that's true, I've got a whole lot of new coming my way.

Remember that show Clean Sweep, where the crew would completely clean out 2 rooms of a home, redesign, redecorate, and re-enter only those items absolutely necessary to the space? Well, imagine doing that to 14 rooms plus a garage and an attic. And all the stuff has to re-enter half as many, smaller rooms. Sound impossible? Well, it nearly was. In fact, the process is currently ongoing, so I'll let you know if it can actually be done.

I always wondered why the homeowners in the Clean Sweep episodes cried at the finished product. Now I know why. Downsizing is physically, mentally, and emotionally draining. Imagine looking at every little tiny thing in your dwelling and making a decision as to whether or not it is important enough to make the cut. Every postage stamp, kid art, wine glass, candle, blanket, and even pet must be considered. The bottom line is that I've made more decisions in the last 2 months than I have in the rest of my living years put together. I can only hope I made the right ones. In the end, the overwhelming conclusion is that I have too much stuff. We all have too much stuff. And when the place you put the stuff in is too big, you have stuff you don't even know you have. For example:

The fact that we could never find a pair of scissors for any of those Sunday night projects that the kids had 3 weeks to do, but put it off until the night before resulted in the purchase of 8 pairs of scissors that would one-by-one disappear into the 7 junk drawers located throughout our 5 bedrooms and 3 baths.

The fact that we could also never find sharpies, pencils, colored pencils, and pens during those panicked moments resulted in 2 shoe boxes FULL of writing utensils moved to the new place. We should never be at a loss for pens again. No junk drawers here.

Not sure how this one happened, but I think it has something to do with the excessively tall kitchen cabinets in the old place and my 5'3" frame. Three unopened bags of flour made the move. Now I know I like to bake, but three? Geesh! Before I started packing, I didn't know I had even one!

And finally--two laundry baskets full of socks--and not the fancy schmancy $15 socks that all the 14yr old boys are wearing now. We're talking men's tube socks from the ex-husband who left like 5 years ago, socks with holes, socks with no elastic, funky mismatched socks, and a few matching, decent running socks thrown in. Really? Who in the world needs all those socks? By the way, just so you know I'm not a complete crazy hoarder, the socks did not make the cut!

As telling as the emptying of the junk drawers and pantry is, I don't think that's why the Clean Sweep homeowners cried. I think it was the letting go of the emotional burden that brought on the tears. Hanging on to the possibility of finding that matching sock and the knowledge of the existence of scissors you can't seem to get your hands on is emotionally burdensome. It's like hanging on to the possibility that your past heartaches were only in your imagination. Sweeping clean a house that holds the memories of a lifetime, choosing the ones that make the cut, that you will carry with you into the future, purges not only junk drawers in the home, but also in the heart. And it makes room for something new.

Tech Trouble

It all started with Dirty Shirley. She's loud and bossy. She interrupts everyone's conversation, tries to drown out Bon Jovi, and constantly leads us astray. Unfortunately, we've grown so accustomed to her that's it's become almost impossible not to include her in any family outing. We tolerate her loud sighs followed by the condescending, "Recalculating", because someone somewhere somehow convinced me that we can't function without her.

Not too long after the arrival of Dirty Shirley came her distantly related cousin--on steroids. You might know him as the Smart Phone. Smart Phone--kind of a condescending, self-serving title, don't ya think. And if that title weren't enough all by itself, that Smart Phone comes with a Genius button. And just like most geniuses, trying to communicate with it just makes me feel stupid.

With the Genius button, I'm supposed to be able to speak into the phone and tell it to call one of my contacts. There's even a car mode. Dirt Shirley oughta like that! Just to spite her, I give it a try.

I'm behind the wheel, navigating the one-way streets of down town rush hour. I push the Genius Button.

ME: Call Frank.
Genius: Did you say call Kate?
ME: Call Frank.
Genius: Did you say call Carmen?
ME: No. Carmen sounds nothing like Frank. Call Frank!
Genius: Did you say call Drake?
ME: I don't even know a Drake. There is no Drake in my contacts. CALL FRANK! Dammit!
Genius: Did you say call Janet?

Dirty Shirley: Recalculating!

Apparently that street wasn't exactly heading in the same one way I was heading. What can I say? I guess I'm just not smart enough to manage navigation and communication, even with the aid of the latest life easing technology.

I realize and appreciate that my tech savvy family is trying to corral my A.D.D. brain into organizational submission. However, my daytimer and #2 pencil never need charging and my 3 ring full of loose leaf wide ruled never experiences a paper jam. I push the buttons on my land line phone, it doesn't push mine and my Rand McNally Road map never sasses me!

If this blog actually gets posted correctly, please share your own tech disaster, if only so I don't feel so alone in the universe. However, I hear there's a solution for that too. Our new computer has something called a Skype button.

...And We Can All Use a Little Change...

Do you ever have one of those moments when you stop, look around you, and think..."Wow. I never thought this is where I would be"?

I had one of those today.

Sitting beside a young girl I barely know, at a table shoved in the crowded corner of the back room of a retail clothing store, snarfing down a room temperature egg roll and trying desperately to ignore my throbbing feet, I looked around and thought exactly that.

Change is a funny thing. Most things are funny with our family, so why not? But, honestly, if I hadn't been scared that I might spew egg roll bits on my new acquaintance, I would have laughed out loud. I remembered the day after Thanksgiving last year. This was not where I thought I would be a year later. But divorce+recession+teacher hiring freeze=Roaring Mom working retail on Black Friday.

I'm not complaining. I'm grateful to have a job. And my girls immediately loved the idea that I was working at the mall. Apparently, it's much higher on the Cool Mom scale than middle school substitute. Go figure! Still, it's not where I thought I'd be. Then I realized, I'm not alone. There are many, many others who aren't where they thought they'd be.

Which leads me to this update...

On July 7, I posted a blog entitled Saying Something. It was about a family I know whose dad had suffered a spinal cord injury. I know that last year at Thanksgiving, they never imagined they'd be where they are now.

I've followed the updates of the Carl Hall family on Facebook. And because my daughter is friends with one of the kids, I get to hear tidbits from her every now and then, too. Carl Hall is now home. He's back with his family in a new home that can accommodate his needs for the time being. I'm not going to presume to know or understand or even guess what all has changed for this family. But I can tell you one thing that has stayed blessedly the same in spite of all that has changed--their spirit.

My daughter Sophie has seen that spirit in Megan's gracious smile and bubbly laugh and the joy that sparkles in her eyes when she talks about her dad. That spirit is evident in the many update postings that detail Carl's drive and determination. That spirit overflows in the sharing of a simple kiss between Carl and Stacey, as seen on a local news story. That spirit is most obvious in the overwhelming outpouring of love and support of hundreds of friends and community members who have been touched by the Hall family over and over again.

I haven't taken an actual count, but other than well-wishes, I think the one comment I've seen more than others it how Carl and Stacey have faced this change with the same optimism and grace they have always had. They are the same good, kind people. Although this accident changed almost everything, it couldn't touch the essence of what everyone loves most about this family.

I've been thinking this Thanksgiving week that change is not only a funny thing, but a good thing as well. We all experience those times that we wish could last forever. But if we never move or grow or change, think of the hearts that might not have been filled, the minds that might not have been opened, the souls that might not have been touched. I'm realizing that it is in the least expected events that we are able to inspire others. It's in the unforeseen tragedies when only our character remains, that we make our mark. It is in those moments we have never imagined that our true nature sustains us and we are able to transcend who we thought we were--who we thought we would be--and just be. And it is in being that we experience love in its truest, purest form.

I'm sharing with you a link to a local news story about Carl and Stacey. I hope you take the time to watch it. It will inspire you. Then, please, say a prayer for them. Then remember to be grateful for change, even if it comes in the form of Black Friday egg rolls. Then, take a moment and just be...

http://www.ksn.com/news/local/story/Former-Wichita-State-Baseball-Player-Carl-Hall/BLvIUhEHlEaNsvHljbT4NQ.cspx