A Still Life

What began as inspiration from this:

Next looked like this:

But was perfected with fondant as this:

In addition to the current life changes of the past two weeks, I started a new home workout for the in-between days and unexpected home days. Like when, for example, 75% of the family has had the flu for a week. While the youngest sick person napped, I attempted to Shred. The Boy really loved watching me and cheered, “GO MOM! GO MOM! GO MOM!” That was a more powerful motivator than any of the challenges from Jillian. And he even drew a picture of me. Awesome.

After more than a week of influenza lockdown, I am pretty much done with the cold part of the year. This Winter fatigue is not unusual, and I am thankful we don’t have inches upon inches of snow on the ground. (*Knocking wood.*) But let’s all get well and stay well, okay?

While it’s still cold, though, I’m still in the mood for lots of soups and stews. Randi at I Have To Say is hosting a recipe swap tomorrow for favorite cold weather treats. We eat a mostly vegetarian (maybe flexitarian) diet, but I’ve been thinking about something hearty like beef stew. I was excited to find this vegan “beef” stew recipe this morning and may try it later in the week.

On the very first warm day (warm = anything above 45 degrees), you will find me measuring for this year’s garden, and we’re expanding. Planning for planting is a lovely way to daydream. How you folks far to the North manage long Winters, I hope to never know. Ick!

The Girl is 2 tomorrow, but we have a (mild, thankfully) flu bug floating through our house this week. We’ll celebrate with friends another day, but it is an absolute must to celebrate the day as a family. I’ve thought about cartoon characters that The Girl likes, but nothing seems quite right. She is wild and fast but also very sweet and very peaceful. When I saw this photo on Bakerella, I knew it was the one. (Cake pictured from Bakerella. Photos of my version will appear later this week.)

When my darling dear and I stole away for a mini-teeny-almost vacation, we lucked our way into an impromptu tour of a restored old hotel. A hotel employee, perhaps the head of security, saw that we were wandering around and helping ourselves to nooks and crannies as we explored the beautiful space. After more than half an hour, he took us across a 5th-story bridge to the rooftop pool and private spa. Once inside the spa, I got my own tour of the women’s side of this amazing spot. Even deeper inside the spa, tucked away behind a gorgeous door, was the Quiet Room.

The Quiet Room. An entire room (complete with some kind of fire tower contraption and people to bring you drinks) dedicated to quiet. Want to soak in the living room sized hot tub? Sure! Just do it in silence. Want to read a magazine while sipping champagne? Just as long as you don’t talk. Want to close your eyes and nuzzle up to a cut of hot tea? Absolutely. But please, keep it quiet. Initially, I was a little revolted by the extravagance of it and the notion that wealthy women whose lives are already privileged get to squirrel away in a decadent tower of a spa to be served in silence.

Then I got over that pretty fast and found myself thinking, “I want a Quiet Room.” So some day, maybe after we install our Paul Rudd-style pub in the basement, I will also build myself a quiet room. And, like Clair Huxtable, I will hold the key and lock the door and just lay on the floor being quiet. I never knew I craved it so! And if all of this sounds good to you, then head over to Dooce and read her suggestion for a new band whose concerts are just for parents.

Seriously, this is a thing. I bemoan the darkside of facebook, but darn it if something amazing doesn’t come along almost weekly to make the crazy network worthwhile. Today’s find: baking in your microwave. This is not a fine, gourmet chocolate cake…but you probably figured that out since it’s made IN YOUR MICROWAVE! Still, it’s a very fun little treat, particularly if you’re home on this holiday Monday with sweet little ones.

Step 1: Grab a regular sized coffee mug that’s microwave safe.

Step 2: Mix 3T flour, 3T sugar, 2T cocoa powder

Step 3: Add 1 egg, 3T milk, 3T oil, a splash or two of favorite extract (we did one almond and one vanilla); mix all very, very well

Step 4: Zap that sucker in the microwave for 2-2.5 minutes (we did 2 min. 15 sec.)

Like I said, it’s not richly amazing, but you could play around with flavoring and bake time to attempt a moister cake. I bet drizzling some chocolate syrup while it’s still really hot would be a nice addition. Fresh whipped cream would be fun, too. Go grab your kids, raid the pantry, and zap up a mug cake!

I love my wise friends who are a season further along in life than I. I carry their voices with me, particularly on days when I am frustrated by the constant needs of mothering little ones. When it comes to Wendy, I even have specific moments of knowing, “This is what Wendy would say to me right now.” Because she says things like this:

Over the summer I packed a picnic lunch and took the boys(teenagers) to Maymont Park.
“Let’s run up the big hill and see who can roll down the hill the fastest, just like we used to do” I suggested.
“Oh Mom!” was the reply.
“Let’s climb the big Magnolia tree and pretend it is our treehouse, just like we used to do,” I suggested.
“Oh Mom!” was the reply.
“Let’s climb the big rocks and pretend we made it to the tippy top of the world, just like we used to do,” I suggested.
“Oh Mom!” was the reply.
“Look it’s the bamboo forest path. Let’s run away from the pirates and try to find their buried treasure, just like we used to do,” I pleaded.”
“Mom, let’s go home,” was the reply.
As I followed behind my beautiful young men with their big feet, I quietly mourned the loss of a season.

Sometimes The Boy wears me smack out.

I have to take deep breaths and focus on gratitude and talk myself down.

I have to choose to speak kindly and not run away and remember that these days are fleeting.

Sometimes I am not a pleasant person to have as one’s mother.

Yet I wonder if one day I’ll find myself turning on Clifford just for the familiar sounds and deeply missing the child who WON’T STOP TALKING FOR ONE SECOND ALL DAY LONG.

And the constant crunch of goldfish and crackers.

And the scattered toys that could amputate a foolish bare toe that dared brave the living room floor.

And the peculiar luxury of living out my days in the company of little ones who trust me completely.

No one could have ever expressed to me how complex this parenting gig would be.

I am joining the Y this week.

I am going to work out a minimum of 3 times per week.

I am going to reach both a weight and BMI appropriate for my height.

I am going to embrace physical practices that move me closer to the whole and healthy and balanced person I aspire to become.

I am going to turn 35 and say, “This is the best I have ever felt in my life.”

I am going to make memories with my children that involve us moving together and not just sitting together.

I am doing this.

For a quiet moment in my very own home tucked between fresh, white sheets while the sun is still out with a grand stack by my side, I am thankful.