The Adventures of Mom

My garden has taken off, thanks to a spot of rain we had last week. Hours of watering cannot compare to rain. What is it, extra nutrients gathered from the clouds? God’s tears? Something that sends the plants sky rocketing three inches or more. No amount of Miracle Grow can compare. It is supposed to rain tomorrow- I hold my breath in anticipation.

Anyhow, now that the plants are taking off, the rabbits and crows have appeared. The rabbits seem to prefer the red beans and brussel sprouts (heck. SOMEONE has to like brussel sprouts, right?) My husband takes care of them- we have two now in the freezer awaiting casseroles). A lady said to me the other day, “oh, my son’s rabbit is in the garage.” I told her, “ours is in the freezer.” The crows, however, are a different story.

We have always had crow problems. They pecked through a field of watermelon one year. Literally, pecked a gaping hole in each melon. If they had bothered to eat one whole one, they would have been too full to continue their path of destruction. My husband bought me a BB gun to shoot the crows. I could never bring myself to do it- such a sop I am.  We tried a scarecrow another time. One of those harvest scarecrows they sell around autumn in all the stores. The crows just sat on it, and laughed at us.

My husband has since suggested I string up fishing line around the back field. Tempting as it sounds, with three kids flying on their feet faster than they can think, I could imagine the accidents waiting to happen- so fishing line ideas were discarded. I have since begged metal pie tins- the disposable kind, off everyone I could think of and strung them up along the water system pipes. They bang and crash in the wind (I’m sure the neighbors love us!). Then I strung up tin foil strips on more string, while humming Mexican Fiesta music. The result? The back field looked like a cross between a festival and an alien landing strip. The combination of shiny silver and banging pie tins have kept them at bay, but the recent windy days have stripped the tin foil away, and the crows are closing in fast. They sit on the TV antenna, laughing at me each morning as I go to turn on the water.

I’m getting some silver pendant banners from my dad- something more sturdy than tin foil. I’ll hang them out there next. Hopefully that will keep them away- either that or we’ll be seeing strange lights in the sky! Either way, my husband has his gun on standby, and we may have blackbird pie to go with that rabbit casserole (and deer stew!!!).

“Children weren’t born to eat chicken nuggets,” my husband says as I proclaim my four year old daughter’s newest food interest. This month it is pita bread dipped in Italian dressing. Last month it was quail, then gator- and all around sushi. I always like to point out that I am NOT giving them chicken nuggets! So I don’t know why he is telling me this all the time.

It is sad however, the number of kids in America who ARE eating chicken nuggets on a regular basis (the quick grab between food shopping, errand running, I am not on about), but fed at home. Why? Are chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese American staples? Would you as an adult eat that stuff? Quite awful, if you think about it- gobs of starch and fat- and where’s that chicken under the breading? If our kids were born in Japan, they’d be eating rice every day, in France, they’d be having a small glass of wine with their lunch…in Greece, feta cheese and bread- don’t forget the olive oil. How on earth did we get suckered into this kid- only cuisine?

I will fall back on plain ignorance when I fed baby #1 that baby food- I did try it myself, and it was gross! Why on earth did I feed it to my child? By baby 2 (the sushi fiend) someone had advised me to buy a food processor and just dump in what ever everyone else was eating and spoon it in! Baby #2 is my adventurous eater (#1 is not!). Oh if only someone had told me the truth in the beginning! ****(Please note if your child has food allergies, or anyone in your family does, know exactly what you are popping in the blender. Also young kids can have severe reactions to peanut butter, honey, shellfish, raw fish, eggs and milk–BE SMART! I am not a doctor, just a mom. If you have questions regarding food/allergies, consult your doctor)- that was my disclaimer!

I’m proud of my kids, they eat fresh fruit, vegetables, salads and deer of course- lots of deer! Kids pick up on the eating habits of those closest around them, luckily I don’t like chicken nuggets! Don’t get me wrong, my son would scoff them down- but out of sight, out of mind, right? We are not angels here, and ice cream is a family favorite. This commercialism around us is so pressuring- the chicken nuggets, the sugared cereals, kids yogurt with bright colored dyes (trust me, if they like yogurt, they don’t need a cartoon character on the side to make it taste better!) My step daughter tried to get me to by a pre-packed lunch, but the thought of a cold taco or cold slice of pizza- congealed cheese, ugh, was too much- we have enough cold leftovers at home. Who thinks of these things any way? Fight the pressure of commercialism, feed your kids what you eat, not what some company wants you to think they’ll eat! Kids weren’t born to eat chicken nuggets.

Well, lunch time now-think it’s greek salad and some pita bread- yum!

I have had vegetables growing under my bed.

Yes, exactly, you heard what I said.

Not mildew, dust bunnies nor mold as you’d expect,

But eggplant, tomatoes- things you’d never suspect!

Yes, I have had vegetables growing under my bed. In seed trays- not a mound of dirt- now that would really be disgusting! Since our outdoor weather has gone topsy turvey for the winter- hot one day, iced the next, my outside garden has suffered greatly and that which should be ready- like the broccoli and cabbage, is either brown from frost bite or in stages of going to seed- my broccoli has flowered before it was even big enough to eat! Not that I don’t like flowers- but it is a veggie garden after all!

My husband was the one who came up with the seed tray idea. He picked them up from Lowes, all full of peat pellets to plant seeds in, nice plastic top to keep them warm- but where to keep them- the house is small, the green house is drafty and in bad need of repairs, and besides, the frost is killing everything- covered or not, and the kids run everywhere. Sliding them under the bed seemed like the best option. Less than a week later, seedlings were sprouting from the warm pellets. Sunflowers, yellow tomatoes, eggplants and red peppers (I always try to grow red peppers- they are so expensive to buy, but so versatile and yummy, even my 4 year old loves them- raw!)

My first lot of seedling babies are now in the green house in bigger pots, waiting for their time in the real garden and I’ve started the second under the bed lot- cucumbers, squash, tomatoes and a couple of pumpkin- yes I know, wrong time of year for pumpkin, but they are for my son- gotta keep the kids interested in the veggie process. They love to eat what ever is home grown- tastes better when you pick it yourself!

I heard in the news that there are a few suburban families that have taken up growing indoors too- uh, the illegal stuff. My take on that is you take jobs away from educated people who live for work, and they will revert to their college ways. Bet drinking has gone well up there too! Me, I’ll stick to the vegetables. My husband plowed up the back field last week. We tried growing watermelon there once, but the crows got to them first. We are going to try black eyed peas this time.  I read in a Florida Farm Bureau magazine that America is in dire need of organic farmers. I think everyone should get onto their home owner’s associations (if they have one) and add a clause that allows them to rip up their lawns and plant veggies- I mean if they are required to have green lawns- why not make them useful too. Collard greens and spinach are green, are they not?  I overheard a man talking about Hawaii. He said it was so expensive to live there that one local told them they all had to have two jobs and grow their own vegetables. In Greece anyone with a plot of land had vegetables and a chicken or two. The US government actually wrote a book about how to be self sufficient on one acre of land. The economy is bad, but if you have dirt and water you can still feed your family (did I mention the tomatoes growing in my kitchen window too? We have 5 so far!) So  with that thought in mind, I must go tend to the vegetables growing under my bed…..

I took the day off today- yes really, and as I glance at the computer clock, I know the kids are leaving grandma’s with daddy and heading home. In thirty minutes the silence of the house will be filled with cries, uh, crying and clamouring of mommy!  I did not mean to take the day off- I meant to take yesterday off- I was so sick all night that it hurt to breathe. I told my husband I was having trouble breathing yesterday morning. He said, “You can’t miss the game. And I’ve got to go to work.”

No I couldn’t miss my son’s first t-ball game. He’s been practicing for weeks, and there were three kids to look after. I could, by no means take a day off. What’s a day off when you are a mom? Was I nuts?  So I packed the kids in daddy’s car and sent them off and followed up in my own, stocked with tissues, cough drops for me and water for everyone. I watched and cheered at the appropriate times, but I really wanted my own mom to put me in bed and tuck me in. I felt miserable, my nose running like bloody Niagara Falls, coughing and sputtering over everyone. I was so happy when the game was over and I could herd the kids into the car and take them home- home, ahh, a refuge…..With THREE kids? I think not!

They played outside while I fixed lunch. Every three steps had me gasping for air. I considered a trip to the hospital emergency room. A quick dose of oxygen. It was painful to breathe a full breath. But who would watch the kids? How do single moms handle these situations? If an ambulance came would they load the kids up too or leave them here to their own devices? I decided to suffer a bit longer and squirrelled away in a chair, watching them play at a safe distance…somehow I managed through the day, even through dinner time and a few squabbles and room time outs too.

So when I awoke this morning, I did not intend to have a day off- I really needed it yesterday, you see. I needed the cuppa in bed, the chicken soup and the “I’ll take the kids off your hands for a while.” This morning I woke up breathing fully- okay, coughing too, but with full lungs (joys of life!) And when my husband announced departure for Grandmas, I almost changed my mind until my daughter began a whine, and then I said, “see ya later.”

And they left. I felt guilty, of course, having an empty house to myself and a full breath of air- I would not have felt such guilt yesterday. So I did the laundry while watching reruns of Dr Who, changed a few beds and tidied up a bit to absolve that guilt feeling.

Funny thing, that day off. I never used to feel guilty about having one- in fact I thought it was my right. I used to arm myself with PGTips, biscuits and a Sunday paper, and treat myself to a walk if I was so inclined!  Where oh where did that woman go? Now there are dirty dishes, dirtier clothes, mouths to feed, squabbles to settle..and much more. A day off as in the past is pretty much, well, in the past! This mom business is pretty hard on a girl at times.

Religion confuses me- it always has. There’s groups of people telling you these stories and a lot of the information does not make sense, especially after you factor in the scientist’s version as well- which, of course, those very churches tell you not to because it makes their own versions not add up. Religion must be the most controversial subject in the world.

I adore history, always have- stories of people who lived centuries ago- mysteries that have yet to be solved. Religion and history should go hand in hand, right? So how come 1 + 1 does not equal 2? Where did the X and Y factors come in and why? I had some Jehovah Witnesses show up the other day at my door. They are nice enough people- I used to be one (through my parent’s desire, not mine). Every now and again they try to get me back into the fold, as they put it, and I always resist. There is just something (besides the knocking on complete stranger’s doors, that strikes me as wrong.  Even growing up I could see a 1 + 1 error. I had learned of Adam and Eve and the Garden of Eden through them, and then history in school. Where did the dinosaurs fit in? Oh yes, that day before man was created, right? Now should I chuck in the south American findings of ancient drawings found depicting man with dinosaurs? Ah an x-factor!  So, being the first human, Adam was a caveman, right? No? Okay, maybe after he and Eve were booted out of Eden he turned to caveman ways? The y factor is entered, and I am thrown into mass confusion. Who to believe, drawings on cave walls  or the religion I was born into?  Then I took all the warring in the bible into consideration. It was wrong to kill, right? The first commandment said so, yet I saw the pictures of the men fighting in my bible story books. So I asked, as a child does. I was told it was in the name of God, but they weren’t allowed to kill anymore. Hmmm, a clause to the first commandment? What made their fighting in the name of God any different from anyone else’s? I remained confused on the matter and considered Buddhism….Considering the Witnesses only started up in the 1930’s, I did wonder why the more ancient religions were not the true ones. How come everyone was claiming to have the true religion?

I have seen miracles with my own eyes- not performed by anyone in particular, but the universe/God responding to a call. As I begin a foray into quantum physics- yes, that forbidden area- science, but taking the missing scrolls of Judas into mind, that every human has direct connection to God (or the universe), I hope one day sooner rather than later to personally rise above the confusion the churches have created in my life.

My son and I were discussing the ouroboros  (I read about it from Raymond Khoury’s The Sanctuary the other day) and he asked, “mom, who was the first man?”

“Uh, Adam.” I groaned inwardly, not wanting to start him on the confused path my own life has led.

It was my six year old who came back with: “He should have been a caveman then, right?”

Wow. Kids come up with the most incredible things!

When I first started writing this, I did believe I was being harassed by the Florida Highway Patrol, as men phoning me every single day in October and November said they were collecting money for the Florida Highway Patrol officer’s fund. When you are angry, tired or really ticked off as someone is phoning just as you put down the last child to bed, only to have them woken by the phone, you tend to miss out the little words- I am collecting FOR, on behalf of, etc.

It was really upsetting that when you say NO to someone, they keep phoning back- the next day and then on- does NO not mean no? Then comes their psychological warfare- “this is for the officers, 7 officers died this year, this is for the officer’s college fund..etc.” My husband swore at the guy who phoned on election night at 9 pm. I am sure the guy on the other end of the phone will forever remember that- and you know what, they actually phoned back the next day!!!!! The calls tapered off in December, but have since restarted last week. But this time, I will not allow the harrassment, because knowledge is power.

Late one night after the calls began (twice a day, I might add), I was ready to write my harrassed by the police piece when I decided to look things up on line- Florida Highway Patrol fund Scams (go ahead, google it!) The Florida Highway Patrol issued a warning against these telephone fund collecting people. They are telemarketers, and do not collect money for the officers. The Florida Highway Patrol are not allowed (by law) to request donations. If you recieve a phone call from someone claiming to be collecting money on their behalf, it is a scam. If you have caller ID, please note the OUT OF AREA announcement in the caller id screen, with no number to trace back.

I came across three articles on this scam through google, the most recent http://m.jcfloridan.com/floridan  type FHP warns of scam in search box, or FHP scam  from the 5th of February. If you live in Florida (though I bet this does go on elsewhere) or your parents/relatives/friends live in Florida, please let them know about this scam. These people try to scare you into thinking they are the police and they’ll come after you- yes, really. This is harassment and attempted extortion, and they should be stopped. By donating one percent of the money they rake in to a charity, they are saving their butts legally, so the State Attorney may have trouble taking them down, but with the power of the media, the public can free themselves of this sleaze.

Knowledge is Power. We refuse to become victims!

I love Sophie Kinsella! I actually just finished her “Can You Keep a Secret?” novel. A British Chick Lit author- yes I know many people cringe at that category, but for someone who craves a whirl through Marks and Sparks and pressed her nose against Jigsaw windows coveting the clothes I would have to find at the Cancer Society Charity shop up the High Street, this writer is just up my alley. She feeds my Brit addiction and longing with prose and it’s fun! Who says literature needs to be long and dreary? Even Oscar Wilde had his crazy moments.

I stumbled upon Sophie Kinsella by accident- a serendipitous newspaper article that I may have whizzed by, if it had not been for her photo. It looked just like my friend Jackie from Hull. I thought- hey, Jackie’s a writer now! It wasn’t her, but it caught my attention. A long while later I had a few minutes to kill at Walmart and while my daughter checked out the Golden Books on that twirly rack, I managed a quick scan of the adult section. Kinsella’s name caught my eye and I left with “The Undomestic Goddess.” Good book. Good laugh. I ordered Remember Me? online from the Lakeland Library as I had never dared venture out of the kiddie section for fear of losing my Houdini Child. I was Hooked!

I did the online thing again at this local library (very useful tool for those with little adventure seeking children- and saves time) And Confessions of a Shopaholic and Can You Keep a Secret came into my hands.  Bridget Jones, watch out! In a nutshell, average Brit working girls landing in situations- uproariously funny because you CAN relate- sneaking crisps while dieting, spending the bill money on a scarf- because it WAS on sale and oh so beautiful, and buying your designer duds from charity shops- I outfitted myself one year in Next and Jigsaw all from Chichester’s Charity shops. I can’t wait for her next novel- please hurry Sophie!

Confessions of a Shopaholic has just been made into a movie with Isla Fisher (the crazy girl in The Wedding Crashers). But can Hollywood do her work justice?

It’s bloody freezing here!

A sprinkling of white glittery frost covers the ground outside- and the patio furniture, the last of what was left of the vegetable garden and the car, even though I’ve just driven it for the past forty minutes. It’s nearly 8.30 in the morning and a crisp 21F. BRRRRRRR.  I bundled my daughter up after our morning school run and raced into the warmth of the house. At 70 inside, it’s a blazing hothouse, but I notice for once my hot blooded daughter doesn’t rush to change into a summery dress. I know I should pack those away, but less than a week ago it was 80F and we were talking about hitting the beach. Now if I stand outside too long, an icicle is bound to form at the end of my nose. What happened to Global Warming? Now is the time to break out the old crock pot and start a batch of deer stew.

I used to cook up a good chili in the cold weather or a big pot of French Onion Soup, but with a husband’s passion for hunting, the only thing we have in the freezer is deer meat- and I can’t seem to give the stuff away! My husband started hunting about three or four years ago, but until this year he never actually caught anything except a cold. This year, every time he’s come back with a doe or buck and one in the shop being prepped. Thank goodness there’s a limit to how many deer you can shoot in Georgia, as the freezer is bursting at its’ seams!

I am most lucky in the fact that dear husband brings home everything already cut up and wraps and labels it himself, as I don’t fancy coming face to face with a Bambi pelt. I had that experience with a boar’s head. I’d been away for the weekend and when I came home, I opened up the fridge to find a whole head of a wild boar staring up at me from the top shelf of the fridge- teeth, whiskers and all. I was not amused. Instead, everytime I now open the freezer packages of deer chunks, cubes, sausage and steaks come tumbling out. One entire shelf is taken up by a large package marked “HAM.” Now what exactly is deer ham?  So here we have been eating deer- alot of it. My husband took me to a restaurant in Cross Creek for our anniversary  a couple of weeks back. There was venison on the menu- I groaned aloud and the waitress raved about deer sausage, steak, etc- she said she loved deer. I might just go back and drop her a large package of chunks, cubes and HAM and then see if she still likes it so much!

Seriously, my husband took his last hunting trip just as the deer season was coming to a close. “Can’t you shoot a turkey or something?” I begged. “Jungle chicken perhaps?”

My son rolled his eyes. “How bout a wild cow?”

No such luck, so for now, it is deer stew…. bowl anyone?

I dyed my hair blond the other day- technically it was only the roots- and I seemed to have missed some in the way back, as you do. You would think after four years of doing this I would get it right by now. Make no mistake- I was never a wanna be blond. I was born natural- white blond in my early years, a dusty sand color later on and sun kissed on the years spent near the beach and working in the great outdoors. It was not a hair color I aspired to- it was a birth right! Sort of like being born a royal. When I heard that blonds have more fun, I assumed it was a motto to live by, like the US Army’s “Be All You Can be!” And boy did I live by that one!

I can not honestly say I have ever known what it is like to be a red head or brunette, or ever wanted to- I mean, when you are blond- well…I have a curly haired friend who used to spend so much time straightening her hair- at the same time I was trying to curl my naturally straight as a board locks, but that was style- as far as color goes, that’s a whole other story. Giving up being a blond would be like parting with a vital appendage- worse, for it just wasn’t something to live with, it was the very essence of me!

Until that dreaded time came….There was no pre warning. My first pregnancy went so smoothly and out came a beautiful baby boy with white blond hair- I know you have to sacrifice a lot (your entire way of life) for a child, but no one warned me I would be forfeiting my blondness- and I was so lost in this new beautiful creature that I did not even notice it  myself, until a kind friend said “oh, your hair is awfully dark.” And there it was in the midst of dirty diapers and spit ups, gurgling smiles and nursing- my hair had seemed to lost all of it’s color. It wasn’t even a nice chestnut or butter rum- it was a non-color! It was quite an awful thing for a birth right blond to discover- I mean, it was if ole Prince Charles got a phone call from his mum and was told he’d be living it a flat in Ilford as they had the castle taken away over night!

I had never dyed my hair before- a squeeze of fresh lemon before going off to the beach does not count as dyeing! But I was desperate- so I started with highlights- nice blond highlights. Somehow I seemed to have lost count of the number of times of highlights I actually had, and with arrival of baby two, my whole head of hair seemed to be back to blond- as if those innocent highlights to hide that dreadful non-color had melted into one. Also with baby two came the extraordinary event of Swiss cheese- in my head- I seemed to have lost every memory. I like to say it was the second birth and a colicky babe, but sometimes I do suspect that highlights blond 242 may have something to do with it- perhaps inhaling peroxide once too many times- making me forget not only my favorite Oscar Wilde poems but also where the car keys were,  What time was that doctor’s appointment? and did I just have a pee?

My own mother’s hair went white about at the age I have reached- though she says it was us kids- probably was. So I figure if I continue touching up my roots, when the white comes in, no one will realise it is a variation of my light blond- just more highlights. My brother, who is four years younger than me already has a sprinkling of white- but he just gets his wife to give him a buzz cut and he’s done with the matter. My roots seem to grow out darker than a moonless night- so it’s back to the highlights- just the roots though, because truth be known, blonds do have more fun..oh yeah, I almost forgot..and I’m worth it!