Suburban Bliss:: Birth Control Via The Written Word

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I feel "over" things most of the time. I rarely think about growing up anymore, once you work through everything in therapy it feels a little pointless to think about things anymore.

Still, every January I feel oddly anxious and a little less than motivated. A friend said to me, "January is a month of Mondays." And that could explain most of my January Malaise.

For a long time I kept 0128 as my PIN for all my accounts (not anymore, duh).

I was 13 and my sister was 9, Max's age.

My parents had been divorced for a little while, but even though the judge awarded the house to my mother, my father refused to leave. I suspect the eviction process took longer than necessary because my mother felt a little powerless and guilty, feelings I think have ruled her life.

He knew the end was coming and had started to lock himself in the back bedroom on the first floor. He installed a chain lock on the door and put a small refrigerator with a stock pile of terrible beer (Old Milwaukee, light).

My mother, sister and I were watching television in the front room. My father was, as usual, locked in the back bedroom.

It was almost bedtime and there was a loud bang from the back room and then terrible moaning. My mother ran to the back room but the chain lock was on the door.

My sister and I ran upstairs to hide but it quickly became clear to me we didnt want to be in the house. I didn't know my father had a gun but I quickly put it together. We got our clothes and shoes on and ran down the stairs, past the room where my mom was trying to get into my father and out the door to a neighbor's house. 

When I try to picture Maddie and Max in that scene, I start to shake. Maybe that's why I think about it every year. The further away I get from it, the more absurd it seems and in a lot of ways that makes it more upsetting. 

At my neighbors house we were sent upstairs to my friend's bedroom. There was a window that faced my house and I watched my father being carried out on a stretcher. He was covered in a sheet and there was blood everywhere.

I thought he was dead and my brain couldn't quite wrap around that.

That was not the first time in my life my brain couldn't handle the information coming at it. But it was the first time I was trying to keep it together in front of people who were not part of that madness.

Earlier that day I'd told my father I was going to tell. I wasn't going to, I knew I wouldn't but I liked him thinking I was going to. It made me feel powerful. He told me he would kill himself if I told. I didn't believe he'd do that.

But then I saw that stretcher and all the blood and remembered the sound of him moaning after the shot...

I didn't want my sister to freak out. I didn't want my school friend to be more freaked out (and tell the whole school) so I tried to keep it together but all the sudden I had this enormous truth in my lap: I had killed my father. 

A policewoman came in to talk to us, he wasn't dead.

He'd shot himself in the shoulder and was going to the hospital.

Another manipulation.

My Introversion Has Limits: You're as shocked as me!

Tonight my friend invited me out to have a drink with her and our other friend for his birthday and you would have thought I'd been invited into bed with Brad and Angelina without the personal body image issues that would involve.

Because of the talking to people that would happen.

You don't think Brad and Angelina like pillow talk? I'm sorry but you're wrong, I bet they lay in bed at night (when they're not talking about splitting up) talking about my cats and Gary's diet. I can only add to that pillow talk, because I have the inside scoop on exactly what Gary did today (still on a diet and getting pretty pissed about it if you were wondering). 

Anyway my friends like to talk about things (maybe not my cats) and the minute I got in that car I was a Cheshire Cat, a very talkative Cheshire Cat. With a big smile and words flinging from my mouth.

So happy to be out of the house with people. Who can talk.

I used to feel this way when my companions during the day were a constipated 2 year old (who was also kind of an asshole a lot of the time) and a VERY talkative 4 year old. Back then I dreamed of getting into Brad and Angelina's bed just to, you know, be quiet and maybe sleep.

So imagine my surprise when seven years later, after 3 years of being by myself during the day, with only my own thoughts (and the occasional observation of my, admittedly hilarious, cats) to keep me company.

I AM TIRED OF MYSELF!

Being out tonight for just an hour talking to several adults, I found myself pinching my own thigh to stop myself from saying, "ISN'T THIS NICE? ISN'T THIS FUN? DO YOU GUYS LOVE THIS? ISN'T THIS GREAT! I LOVE THIS!!! DO YOU LOVE THIS? I LOVE THIS!"

Not a conversation starter, so you know.

I don't know what this means for me. Probably it means some expansion of what I write about on this site.

I mean I used to write for other sites and it kept me pretty busy and I liked that. Why not find great things to buy and things you can DIY all for my own site?

It might also mean learning more about what I want to do through volunteer work and internships. YES I KNOW I'M 36.

I am a late bloomer.

Did They Eat It: French Breakfast Muffins

I make French Breakfast Muffins pretty often because like Snickerdoodles, I almost always have the ingredients on hand. Butter, an egg, milk, flour, sugar, salt, baking powder, nutmeg, cinnamon and vanilla. Easy! Apparently my pantry is French.

You can find several variations of this recipe but I like the one I saw in Family Fun years ago the best.

First you combine the flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, and nutmeg in a large bowl using a wire whisk. Make a well in the middle of it, like so:

Whisk the egg until it's frothy then blend in the milk and melted butter like so.

Pour the mixture into the well in the middle of the dry ingredients.

Stir to combine but don't over mix!

Use some butter to grease your muffin pan and evenly spread your mix among 12 muffin cups.

Melt another bit of butter in a bowl and mix up some cinnamon sugar in another bowl and have them ready for the next step.

Dip each muffin into the melted butter:

Here's where my camera battery went out so I had to use my phone to take the last few pictures. After the butter, dip the muffins into the cinnamon/sugar.

Look, yum!

Here they are all done and looking good enough to eat 5 of them throughout the day. Not that I did.

Okay, look it was MLK Day, the kids were home, they'd been sick for the last few days and we were all a little stir crazy. I did what I had to.

Did They Eat It?

Coated in sugar? Filled with sugar? Duh.

Complete recipe here.

Score 1: New Neighborhood

We got new neighbors last week. I had a couple of panic attacks over this.

We moved from our first house because we hated the neighborhood from pretty much the first week we lived there. During the first month we lived at our old house a man from across the street did not for the life of him understand why I didn't like listening to his blaring music. He didn't understand it so much he parked his car in front of my house blaring his music at me and screaming, "Is This Loud Enough!" until I called the police. So that was a nice housewarming.

He moved after I filed a police report or two, because I felt oddly threatened with a large man bellowing at me from the sidewalk. But that was the best thing about that terrible neighborhood. There were always more assholes to replace the ones that left. Like the guy, who it turns out had a raging drug problem, who drove his truck back and forth on the sidewalk outside my bedroom windows. 

Oh and then the rental next door which was filled with various loud people. They'd head to the bar at 11pm, as Logan and I rolled off to bed, having a newborn baby.  Luckily our daughter slept through the night, unluckily our neighbors returned from the bar at 2am and then the real party started. Oh boy that was enjoyable night after night.

Picture it: Middle of winter. Me in my bathrobe, glasses and bed head holding a 2 month old infant on the porch screaming, "DO YOU THINK I LIKE STANDING OUT HERE TELLING YOU TO STOP PLAYING TOUCH FOOTBALL ON MY LAWN AT 3 IN THE MORNING!?"

And don't get me wrong, we tried to be reasonable. When Maddie was 8 days old they asked if they could put us up at a hotel so they could have a party. We spent the night with family just to cut them some slack. But then the next weekend there wasn't a "party" but somehow "not a party" sounds a lot like a party to the sleeping adult.

So you can imagine how scared we were when we sold that house and moved to a new neighborhood. We knew the house we ended up moving to was a quiet neighborhood with other families and people who care about one another. How novel!

Of course that didn't work out well and last year we nervously left moving to another neighborhood totally afraid we'd end up on another block where I'd be standing out on the front lawn screaming at overgrown fraternity boys to stop playing touch football on my lawn.

But I guess I worried about it enough because this is a surprisingly quiet neighbrhood. Maybe not as community oriented as the last neighborhood but quiet and clean and nobody leaves a toilet on their lawn for 2 weeks.

Then Monday someone new moved in next door and I spent the next 24 hours creating various scenarios for how awful they were going to be. Oh and I thought they were going to be awful, let me tell you. Of course Logan was convinced they'd be a group of hot exhibitionistic co-eds who loved naked pillow fights and were philosophically opposed to window blinds.

Pillow fights can be quiet so I'd have accept that.

After a week of spying like Mrs Kravitz, Saturday I made muffins to bring over. 

We packaged them up, Logan made a label introducing our family and we brought the box over.

He kept it more upbeat than I had thought about. You know something subtle like, "Welcome to the neighborhood! Please just don't be loud or you'll have to see me in my bathrobe.

Another sign this neighborhood is not like the one we owned in. Actual families move here, not overgrown fraternity boys. Next up: Neighborhood Happy Hour!

*Edited to add link to recipe: I used this one for lemon poppy seed muffins.

Did They Eat It: Peanut Noodles

It's kind of hard to write about food after you've had a round of stomach flu. Everything just seems to go back to that, which is unfortunate because this was really good. So let's pretend I didn't make this the day after I spent the night crying at God!

I am a big fan of peanut noodles and am always trying new versions. I picked this one because it was super easy and used ingredients I had on hand. This is a Family Fun recipe you can find here.

You may notice how light the pictures are and that's not because there is sun at dinner time around here. I made this ahead of time because this is meant to be served at room temperature.

Parenting Fail.

Okay we're done throwing up. Logan once again avoided this illness sealing my long held belief that he is not human and sealing his long held belief that only assholes get sick.

I do a lot of comparing my life at the ages my children are to theirs right now. This is especially acute with Maddie because she's a girl and because she's so much like me.

In fourth grade I had started to do poorly in school. I stopped doing homework most of the time and signed the notes my teacher sent home to inform my parents. It got worse from there and I was barely passing most of my classes by the time I was in high school.

I've always berated myself for my poor performance in school. Once Maddie was in school I worried I would pass on my seriously terrible academic skills to her. So every year I've watched, wincing to see how she does.

I've been pretty fortunate with her, school has never been particularly difficult and when she struggled with math we got her a tutor and now she's an A student in that too. I've thankfully never had to model good work and study habits, which is good since I don't possess those. She just gets it. She rarely brings homework, she finishes it in spare moments through out the day. She furiously works to finish a project and then tells me, "Oh, it's not due until next week, I just wanted it off my plate."

Obviously not my kid, must be the robot DNA.

So I've become a little complacent with Max, assuming he also had the same internal drive to succeed. This is the first year homework has been any significant work for him and he's been pretty good at doing a piece of his homework package each night so he's not overwhelmed at the end of the week.

Of course this week he came home on Tuesday and said, "Oh yeah, my book report is due Thursday"

And I said, "Oh yeah? What book did you read?"

He hasn't picked a book yet, so that's lovely.

I don't want to be a helicopter parent, but I really dropped the ball here.

But I'm sure that robot gene will kick in any minute now, he'll read all night and create a video production and it'll be ready to go bright and early Thursday morning.

I'm writing this because it's Sunday and no one will read it. Sorry.

No one really likes to hear about how sick you've been. But Holy Shit, we've been sick.

And I know posting about our ridiculous illness right after a week of posts about food is, kind of gross. But I have to get this out.

We've never experienced the stomach flu in this house, I actually started to believe it was a myth and was simply food poisoning. I believed that all through the night Monday as I slept with my head in the toilet.

In those hours I developed very harsh feelings toward the hummus I ate at around 10pm before going to bed.

But then Wednesday Maddie called from school after throwing up in a garbage can in the cafeteria. She came home and her illness was pretty mild, nothing like my 8 hours of snuggling with the toilet. 

Saturday morning Max complained of a stomach ache and I can't tell you why I thought this, but I thought, "Maybe he's just a little constipated". Yes I realize all evidence would point to my son having the same stomach virus Maddie and I had just lived through but I was TRYING TO BE POSITIVE.

I was trying to be positive right up until he climbed into bed with me, mentioned his stomach still hurt and Blam-O. If you know what I mean. 

I realize being a mother for 11 years and never having to clean up vomit and never having vomit on my person is a pretty lucky break. But it's one of those milestones I didn't feel like I'd missed out on.

Like maybe I sometimes look back on my kid's babyhood and think, "I wonder what a fulfilling breastfeeding relationship would have been like....." But I've never thought, "I wonder what it would be like to wake up just to be thrown up on?"

But now my catalog of experiences has that one on it. Take that, Life List!

Looks like we're all on the mend, though still contagious for 3 days and up to 2 weeks. So Sofa-Fest 2010 continues over here through the long weekend.

I would say we've got one more family member left to get it, but for some reason Logan will never get sick. Even though I repeatedly used his toothbrush and may or may not lick his lips while he sleeps.

I realize this sounds cruel but just ask me about Tuesday morning after a night with my head cradled in the toilet. You'd want a turn to be dismayed by his failure of an immune system.

Either this week will be healthy or I'll be happily reminding my husband that everyone gets sicks sometimes. Win-Win as far as I'm concerned.

(*Note the new banner. I may or may not have fallen AGAIN on the slush on my driveway Friday night. Yes, I was wearing the same shoes I've fallen wearing every other time. No, I don't have a death wish, I just hate shopping.)

Beyond The Shaker: Salt Challenge

I ate a lot of salt this weekend. Monday morning I went to have an MRI and needed to take my wedding ring off and pretty much couldn't and the whole time I thought, "DAMN YOU SALT!".

Logan's friend Tyler has started a gourmet salt company with his brother called Beyond The Shaker. On Saturday night we gathered at another friend's house to taste 12 different dishes made with each variety of salt Beyond the Shaker sells. The best dish, as voted by everyone, would be awarded a trophy.

When I got my invitation to participate in this Beyond The Shaker Salt Challenge I thought, "Oh yeah, sure, Logan will make something!"

But then I realized I was one of the 12 people included in the challenge. Which meant I would have to make a dish myself.

As evidenced by the Beef Stew debacle, I'm not exactly capable of even adjusting a recipe, much less creating one all by myself.

Luckily my friend Laura is a chef and gave both Logan and me free consulting for this contest. Logan and Laura came up with an amazing pork tenderloin with a cider honey sauce. I found this a little fussy so I decided to make something easier, I love the taste of salty sweet things so I asked Laura for some dessert related ideas. 

I was assigned Everest Wet Salt, which, if I were a foodie type person I'd say, is a salt that tastes of lime, lemongrass and a bit of wasabi. Not so easy to cook with, so of course the girl with no culinary imagination got this salt.

I realized something about myself, while creating recipe after recipe that failed miserably. a) I'm not much of a "chef" b) I hate failing c) I often don't even try just to avoid failing.

(I already knew about myself: d) I need to chill the fuck out about 89.95% of the time.)

Giving up before trying is an excellent life skill.

I finally settled on coconut macaroons and with a little tweaking from Laura, I ended up with a pretty intriguing cookie. And I mean intriguing in a good way.

Did They Eat It: Beef Stew

I made a deal with myself after buying one too many food related magazines. I can buy them, as long as I make at least two recipes out of each one I buy. I decided to try my hand at Beef Stew, something I've never made and seemed pretty easy.

I read the recipe carefully, making sure to note the four hour cooking time so we wouldn't be eating dinner at 11 o'clock in the evening.

Doctor's Orders!

Sometimes I forget to eat through out the day and on some days, I'm just not even really very hungry when dinnertime comes. This happened on Tuesday.

I am obviously getting enough calories, or so my weight says, though I'm sure this awful habit of mine is destroying my metabolism.

On Wednesday morning I had an appointment with the doctor to discuss my ability to throw my body to the concrete. So I raced off and didn't eat breakfast either. I wasn't very hungry so I didn't even think about it. Quite often I don't eat all day until dinnertime.

I spent, three and a half hours, at the doctor. Waiting for various images of the places I've tried to break myself. Amusingly though my elbows look the most battered, my knee is the thing that's most jacked up. Like a bone is pointing in the wrong direction. No wonder it was a "little stiff".

I have such tremendous body awareness I couldn't figure out why I was so hungry while stuck in that office. "Gee, I rarely eat before dinner, why am I so hungry now?" Finally I left the doctor and stopped to have a sandwich at the restaurant where our friend Phil sells coffee. (I should clarify, not just coffee, locally roasted coffee.) I ate a sandwich and thought that would fix things given that I quite often don't eat until dinner.

But I got home and still felt awful. I had a headache and laid on the sofa feeling completely depleted of all energy.

It wasn't until Logan asked me what I'd eaten that day that I realized I'd had a sandwich over the last 48 hours.

No wonder my body keeps flinging me to the ground. My God.

So the doctor showed me my xray where my knee cap and bone were having an argument and not speaking to each other.

She said, seriously, "So, until we figure out what is going on in there I want you stay off your knees."

And didn't laugh, at all. Even when I did.

She also added, looking a little like she had some seriously bad news to break to me.

"The other thing is...you really shouldn't run with your knee like this."

WHAT!? OH NO!
What about that marathon I was planning to do?

My doctor doesn't really know about my negative over all impression of running. So once again she stared at me while I got a good laugh about that order.

Imagine: 24 kids at midnight on NYE

This is exactly what it sounds like.
Now you don't have to have them over.
You're welcome.

New Year's Eve With 24 Kids from Melissa Summers on Vimeo.

Resolutions: 2010

If I wasn't so positive 2010 was going to be a really good year I may have been concerned by the fact that I've fallen on the ice twice in a span of 3 weeks. The last time was on New Year's Day as I left a friend's Pasta and Meatball Open House. I may have had some wine but, and you can laugh all you want, I've been in denial about winter and I keep wearing my favorite shoes even though they have no traction and I can't really wear socks with them. Like if I keep wearing this tankini, winter will magically stop.

Take That Winter!

So I ended up practically underneath my friend's car on my back thinking, "Maybe people didn't notice."

And right then all my friend's husbands came rushing over to help me back up, making it quite difficult to pretend I didn't just fall beneath a car.

But no, 2010 is just joking with me. Because that's the kind of friends 2010 and I are. We like to joke around, these bruises on my elbows? Oh you know ha ha ha....2010, such a card.

Really I think 2010 is just trying to convince Logan that I don't belong in a place that has ice just waiting to take me out for half the year.

I didn't give myself any goals for last year. I kind of felt like, "Well work isn't going the way I want, we're leaving the neighborhood I've always wanted to live in, oh well, this year's a wash!"

Gee, I just don't know why 2008 didn't work out that well for me.

As a family we've decided first of all to get Gary a bit thinner and boy is he happy about it. I think he's going to eat my arm off in the night and we're only on day 3.

Maddie's goal for this year involves getting a dog (not going to happen, unfortunately) and Max just wants to go to Chicago again.

I assume Logan wants to run until his toenails fall off. Again.

For my new year's goals, I've decided to chip away at some of my Life List

So this year I will:

Host a welcome to summer dinner party.
Canoe for a day with a long picnic lunch.
Buy fresh flowers for the house once a week for a year.
Surprise Maddie at school with a huge bunch of balloons on her birthday.
Make our backyard into a bird refuge.
Take the kids to the candy store and give them $10 each to spend as they wish.
Make new Christmas stockings for the whole family.
Find a perfect black dress.
Send birthday greetings to all my friends for one entire year.