Defining a Hug

When Child Number One was a wee little tot he fashioned his own definition of *HUG*.  If the embrace he was receiving wasn’t what up to his standards he would blatantly say, “Only two arms make a hug.”  We always thought it was the sweetest, most innocent way of describing the physicality of an embrace.  However, during one of those nights my brain wouldn’t quiet down I came to understand what he was really trying to articulate using the limited language capabilities of a toddler.  It wasn’t the “two arms” element we heard through adult ears that was his fundamental message.  Our precious son was simply trying to open our hearts to the realization that a real hug, a true hug is when he had ALL aspects of our attention, ALL of our positive energy, ALL of our calming abilities surrounding him at that living instant.  Then, and only then, did he feel he was genuinely hugged. 

Not long ago his definition came to the forefront of my mind when I discovered a new trend in parenting which challenges parents to let their child end a hug first; allow the child to decide when to let go.  It is a lesson in living simply, being present in the moment, and giving your child the attention s/he deserves.  As a result of relinquishing this parenting control myself, I have felt an immeasurable wave of peacefulness.  It gives me the ultimate opportunity to live in a priceless moment and leave it with imprinted memories of my son that would otherwise have gone unnoticed.  His scent, the texture of his hair, the silkiness of his skin, the beating of his heart, all the magnificent, quiet pieces of my beautiful son.  I will forever treasure it all.

How Two Book Titles Changed my Life.

While rummaging around in the basement trying to find something interesting to fill up one of those famous homebound, freezing cold, northwoods winter days, I found myself reading over the titles of books lined up in our recycled cinderblock and 2 x 4, crudely assembled basement library.  The time was later 1980's and I was somewhere around the age of 13, give or take a year.  I remember the moment I came across two books that have been forever imprinted in my brain.  No they weren't some forbidden literature, Readers’ Digest large print books, or aged copies of National Geographic.  (The later of those being kept piled up in a place of honor in our living room.)  No, both were just beat up, well read, regular ol’ paperbacks.   I was drawn in by the colorful, visual noise of their covers.  Both happened to be authored by the same woman, the one, the only, Erma Bombeck.  I can't even tell you how many times since that day I have quoted just the titles, let alone her hilarious, true to life written words.  These titles find themselves involved in many a conversation, sometimes to loosen up an intense tone, other times just because the ideas they proclaim just fit so perfectly.  First is, The Grass is Always Greener Over the Septic Tank (McGraw-Hill, 1976), the second, If Life is a Bowl of Cherries, What Am I Doing in the Pits? (McGraw-Hill, 1978).  I'm not going to bamboozle you, dear Reader, with all sorts of quotes, however, I urge you to please, please, please just take a second and do an internet search on Erma Bombeck.  Perouse a few of her quotes, download one of her books, or better yet get your bum to the library, (don’t forget a document with your current address printed on it to update your library card,) and check out a REAL LIVE BOOK.  She was genius.  Hilarious.  Genuine.  Authentic.

In case you're interested, click below.

Erma Bombeck: The Mother of all Humorists

I’ll leave you with one of her many quotes to tantalize your brain, "Seize the moment.  Think of all those women on the 'Titanic' who waved off the dessert cart." 

Tales From The Food Crypt

A few days ago I was going through our freezers taking inventory of *what lies beneath*.  It wasn’t exactly planned, but I found myself diving headfirst into our basement freezer chest, a.k.a. The Food Crypt.  About a decade ago, give or take a year, I had entombed a zippered freezer bag containing a number of skinned overripe bananas.  Initially this was my resourceful way of conceal them not to admit squander from my non food wasting husband.  See, there is like a fraction of a second in the life of a banana where they are not too green or too brown, where they are still firm yet sweet, and if you have a bunch of them this all happens at one time and you find yourself with five bananas that need to be consumed in 2.5 seconds.  Anyhoo, when I would randomly find said freezer bag I would add to it or take from it a banana or two.  The taking part started with smoothies.  They were super yummy, super messy to make (getting out the blender, frozen berries, ice, yogurt, honey, milk,…), super expensive to make (note the ingredient list), and in the end, my kids refused to consume more than a taste so I would declare it Mum’s Smoothie Day and end up with a bad stomach ache.  Next was mushy banana ice cream.  You know, the modest effort, low fat, one ingredient banana ice cream wanna be.  Again, a major NOT GONNA HAPPEN with the two wee ones.  And Mum can only eat so many banana flavored ice crystals before frozen brain sets in.  So now what?  I have three cryo-preserved elderly bananas needing to be utilize.  What comes to mind?  Chocolate Chip Banana Bread.  And a quick internet search found an easy recipe of which I had all the ingredients for.  So, bada bing bada boom, I threw together one loaf of yummy, gooey, chocolate chip banana bread sending heavenly scents throughout our little home.  I made a few substitutions, like a bit of brown sugar for white to make it gooier, and adding some freshly ground nutmeg to compliment the loads of cinnamon.  After the smoke cleared… oh yeah the smoke.  Not a big deal, the mixture just kept oozing over the sides of the breadpan onto the floor of our oven, noted for next time, so I put a cookiesheet underneath.  Also noted was the need to implement better time management as the end of the school day for child number one was timed painfully close to the end of required baking time.  But once we returned home from picking up Number One, the heavenly spiced aroma of freshly baked bread had laid a path to the kitchen for innocent noses to follow.  I said, “You both have a choice, you may have two pieces of Halloween candy or one slice of this bread.”  Without a second of hesitation both immediately answered, “BREAD.”  And the praises I received after they consumed the first of my experimental banana bread, well, I felt like queen for the day.  Later on when given the same choice, both again chose bread OVER HALLOWEEN CANDY.  Who were these children?  What kid would eat bananas from The Food Crypt over a handful of plain M&M’s? 

Let me just finish with this little bit, the bread is long gone.  It lasted about two days, or so, however, the Halloween candy is still sitting on the kitchen counter in an untouched pasta bowl.  In the meantime, we’ve gone through one batch of my mom’s famous chocolate chip cookies, a completely homemade pumpkin cake glazed with homemade vanilla frosting, amazing amounts of Haralson apples, and oodles of tiny purple grapes (note the post, The Feathered, Glittery, Pink Potty Tiara Day).  And that candy, well, it still sits, and sits… waiting to be eaten.