Weekend worth remembering

Four states and nine hours separate my children from their cousin, so they're only blessed to see her once or twice a year.

Thank goodness for fall break.

This time, they made the trek eastbound, and despite the fact my house still wasn't in tip-top shape for guests (but then, is it ever with two kids?) I consider the fact it's 7 a.m. and all other parties are asleep a minor miracle.

Take Wednesday, when my toddler woke up at 3 (a most unholy hour of night) to ask if his aunt and cousin were here. The next day it was 5. And naptimes? Forget about it. It's been a losing battle, though one I've largely stuck to at least trying to make happen.

But late, late Thursday night (OK, technically Friday morning), it happened. They arrived. And it's been a whirlwind ever since.

We started slowly, with the painstaiking process of making the world's best cinnamon rolls, forgetting that it's a four-hour process! But every kid got their hands dirty, from rolling the rolls (the girls) to punching the dough (perfect for 2 year old energy!). We went to the Children's Museum of Indianapolis, a rare treat that we could afford thanks to an awesome Groupon, to check out all things girl (a Barbie exhibit) and boy (dinosaurs and trains) and to experience the kids' first Haunted House (during not-so-frightful hours).

We went to the Broad Ripple Farmer's Market and scarfed down amazing pretzels that come in braids of three pretzels each - that my toddler knows are at this market and starts asking for the minute we arrive. We joke about the Bloody Mary mix in the bag, which we nix, and savor the chocolate milk from the local dairy.

We burn off our energy at the local park, where the girls opt for swings and mom somehow gets sucked into playing truck - which translates to: Sit on the step, immediately get up, get off the truck, get some mulch, put it somewhere and gt back on the step. Repeat for 30 minutes. I figure it's good for the thighs.

We've gotten our share of movies and Great Pumpkins and have toyed with carving our own pumpkin. We've had our share of minor squabbles and glimpses into funny conversations between the kids. I only wish 10 months didn't separate those.

Today will be another day of memories, and tomorrow they make the trek home. But really, the time is too short, and the breaks too long. Sometimes, I wish you really could click your heels three times to get to Kansas...

Pumpkin bread recipe worth repeating!

Pumpkin bread is generally something you can't go wrong with, especially in the fall. I stumbled on this recipe in my grandmother's church's old cookbook, and it was gobbled down within the day. The biggest selling point? The neighbor girl down the road - one of the pickiest eaters I know of - couldn't get enough.

Pumpkin Bread - makes 2 loaves
1 c. vegetable oil
2/3 c. water
4 eggs, beaten
2 c. pumpkin
1 c. chopped pecans
3 1/2 c. flour
3 c. sugar
2 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. cinnamon
1 tsp. ground nutmeg

Combine oil, water, eggs and pumpkin, stir to mix. Combine flour and remaining ingredients; stir. Add nuts. Pour into greased loaf pans. Bake at 350 for 1 1/2 hours.

Light bulbs for Haiti - a little lesson in empathy

"We need to buy light bulbs for Haiti," my daughter announced one afternoon as I picked her up from school.

Wow. Heavy response from a 5 year old, who usually reports in on what she played at recess. But, as she explained to me, the kids in Haiti don't have lights in their classrooms. And that day, they colored in the dark to see what it's like.

"I didn't have any problems," she reported. But something stuck with her nonetheless. For the first time, she talked about sharing her toys for the Haiti sale and giving away clothes and shoes that didn't fit her - instead of dramatically insisting how "special" each item was.

This week, priests from Haiti are visiting our church. And my daughter, just 5, is learning about life an ocean away and a little bit about generosity as well.

In recent years, my parish has made an affiliation with a church and school in Haiti. The wonderful thing about this mission is that they have made it very real for the families. We support it through an annual children's clothing sale, and fundraisers include buying a desk (about $30-40, by my recollection). It makes it real, as few people are actually able to make the mission trips.

But what's impressed me most is what they've impressed upon the children. My daughter did her school work in the dark to see what it was like without lights. They talked about how little the children had, how many needed shoes or school desks. Each day sparked a little lesson, and our conversations this week have been sprinkled with facts about the Haitian people - from the earthquake, to the fact they speak Creole, to their diet of rice and beans.

In fact my daughter, whose refusal to eat black beans led me to donate my stash to the food pantry last weekend, announced she wanted beans for dinner. When I told her I donated them to people who were hungry, she told me, "But the people in Haiti already have beans!"

Still, we've had many conversations this week about life in Haiti and about poverty - each sparked by a blossom planted by my child. I'm grateful for those. As she grows, she'll become an amazing member of this world!

Parenting efficiency?

Efficiency as a parent?

I had to chuckle this morning reading Sweet Eventide's column on her rough adjustment to life as a working mom. Is there such a thing as efficiency as a parent?

Yes I know there are super moms out there, like my former coworker, a single mom, who juggled four kids, a job and nursing school. But chaos lately seems to rule my life.

Take the other morning, so typical of my week.

My daughter wakes me up around 6 a.m. by snuggling in my bed. A few minutes later she goes back to hers. I eventually get up.

By 6:45, I've showered, dressed and asked her to get her uniform on.

By 7, I've done diaper duty, dressed the toddler and have gently reminded my daughter that while the Barbies are now dressed, she needs to be too.

By 7:15, I have a toddler begging for breakfast and am praying for patience over my daughter, who's figured out how to get a shirt on but that's all. I order her to get dressed (which she mostly does) and head downstairs for breakfast negotiations. Negotiations fail. I get a confirmation of what the toddler wants to eat, only to have him get upset when he doesn't get the same cereal as his sister. (Nevermind that he finished off the other box.) I try to remember my own breakfast while I fix breakfasts, get refills on milk and fix a lunch despite my daughter's insistence that this week she should have an additional day of hot lunch beyond the Mondays already promised.

By 7:45, I realize I've lost my morning, despite best attempts. We scramble upstairs, attempt to locate where the Elmo toothbrush has snuck off to now, let my toddler spit into the toilet, then race back downstairs.

There, I realize that our systems have once again broken down. My daughter has no socks on. One or both kids failed to put their shoes on the shoe tray last night. The backpacks have been relocated from their spot. Somehow we make it to school on time, and I just thank God for those days I don't have to be there at a specific time.

Evenings, however, are more relaxed. We benefit from the down time offered by after-school care or the daddy-daughter time on his days out of class, but the toddler is ready to eat by the time he hits the car door on his way home. Thankfully, we've worked out a meal system to feed the beast by the time he gets home. Evenings are filled with long walks, homework (yes, even the toddler gets "homework," coloring on the backs of old school papers), story time, library visits and the occasional Thomas movie. Now that the garden is largely to bed for the season, that's one thing off the worry list.

Bedtimes, like for most parents, are a challenge, and I admit there are more days than not where we're exhausted by the time little ones are asleep! (By then, my husband is in bed as well - the result of a 4 a.m. work schedule.)

Those quiet hours (or hour) is usually spent with laundry or other "quiet" chores, but more often that not it means catching up on a growing workload.

Weekends are treasures. And while I don't offer people exciting news of travels or big nights out at the start of my Monday, I get 48 hours to savor my family without the burden of schedules. And at this age, a little less adherence to the clock is just what they need.

I admit I envy those parents who work from home (and can just pop in a load of laundry while they're working) or are at home full-time (and are exempt from the harriedness of getting young kids to and from daycare and mealtime madness at the end of the day).

But for now, our chaos works. Would I like to streamline it and remove the daily headaches? Of course! But that's what makes us real.

Jupiter, fog and other fall wonders

Being with a young child is a chance to rediscover everything again. And this fall is no different.

Take today, for instance. We started the day being amazed by the fog dancing across the ponds by our home, and watching the wispy clouds float across the road.

"Can we touch it?" our 5 year old asked. Running late for school, I promised that the next foggy morning we'd try to find out.

Tonight, we were treated by the bright glow of Jupiter, about an inch or two below the moon by the naked eye. The kids were amazed by it, despite our pathetic attempts to remember anything from college astronomy. My 2 year old declared he would "climb up a ladder and touch it, and then jump back down."

Or the other evening, when a family walk became a hunt for the largest, the pinkest, the most oddly shaped leaves we could find, our kids expressing joy at each find, carrying fistfuls of stems all the way home, only to toss them in our yard.

It's little moments like these that make you savor fall even more.