Christmas Lights

A crystalline night.
Plastic lights burn hope into
Deep into the sky.

Happy Holidays, everyone!

The Upside Of Being Down With Swine Flu

Last week my family was struck with the dreaded swine flu, or H1N1 virus. Thankfully, the worst of our symptoms was low-grade fever, cough and fatigue. We spent the week camped out on our couches. While Ethan and James watched TV, I knitted.
And since I didn’t have to drive to and from their schools and the karate studio, I had a lot of time to knit, which was good because I had a baby sweater to finish. My sister-in-law is due this week with a baby girl.
I used a pattern called Baby Kimono by Kristen Spurkland. I bought some great yarn for it back in May and have been working on it off and on over the summer. I didn’t think a sweater for a newborn would take long to make. Now I know that even a baby sweater takes a while to make on size 3 needles. But with all the sicky couch potato time I had last week, I finished the sweater and even made a little hat for her with the extra yarn I had.

I can’t wait to see my new niece in her sweater!

Kid-Proof A Baseball Game

1. Buy each of your kids a giant snow cone.

2. Buy yourself and husband a Coors Light in riot-proof plastic bottles.

3. Chase with a bag of peanuts.

Sit back and enjoy six innings.

Italian Food, With Love

The other night, I flipped through my latest edition of Tastes of Italia cooking magazine. My sister turned me on to this magazine, which has easy-to-make, tasty Italian recipes. I found two recipes that I already had most of the ingredients for—a Blueberry Apricot Rustic Tart and a Spinach and Red Pepper Crustless Quiche.
There’s nothing that motivates me to cook than a meal made with ingredients already in my refrigerator. Granted, I didn’t have every single ingredient that the recipes called for, but I could confidently make substitutions for missing ingredients. I didn’t think, for example, the tart tasted any worse with strawberry preserves instead of raspberry. And the quiche was still yummy with a topping of Dubliner Cheddar cheese instead of Fontina.
I did go on a special trip to the grocery store last week for one recipe—Amaretti cookies I made my dad for Father’s day. These are my dad’s all-time favorite cookies. Any sweet made with almonds brings him back to growing up in Bitritto, Italy, enjoying cookies made with almonds from his father’s orchard.
I’m more than willing to buy almond paste at King Soopers to bring back those memories.

Happy Blogoversary To Me

In March, I not only celebrate Ethan and James’ birthdays, but the birth of my blog, “Sippy Cup Adventures,” which quickly became “The Clothesline.” Looking over a year’s worth of posts made me realize that I worry a lot. Take one of my first posts on "Sippy Cup Adventures," titled “Countdown to B-Day.” In this post, I practically have a meltdown over the thought of Ethan having a meltdown from celebrating his birthday at Pump It Up. I was afraid the kids, noise and excitement would be too much for Ethan, whom has autism. But all that worry was for nought--we had such a great time we threw similar party for Ethan and James this year. How was my mental state this time around? A little better—at least I didn’t hyperventilate. I’m trying to take my own advice.

A Mammoth Opportunity

Last weekend, the National Sports Center for the Disabled, in conjunction with the Colorado Mammoth lacrosse team, hosted a free 2-hour lacrosse clinic. When I told Ethan he was going to participate in it, he asked how lacrosse is played.
“It’s like soccer, only you catch and carry the ball with a stick,” I said.
“How do you catch a ball with a stick?” Ethan asked.
Oh, yeah—I forget to mention there’s a net at the end of the stick. Shows you what I jock I am. No worries—those Mammoth players can fill you in on the details.
And two Mammoth players—Nick Carlson and Tom Ethington—did, along with a host of local college and high school lacrosse players whom volunteered for the event. The volunteers drilled the participants on the basics—passing, cradling the ball, and scoring.
But having fun was the clinic’s biggest priority. Even when a participant dropped the ball or missed the goal by a mile, the volunteers cheered them on.

In addition to learning lacrosse, Ethan got to speak with “Wooly,” the team’s mascot. I can’t think of a better lacrosse team for Ethan to root for, since, for him, prehistoric mammals rank right up there with dinosaurs.
At the end of the clinic, the participants had a Q&A with Carlson and Ethington. Ethan raised his hand. I held my breath.
“Do we get an award now?” Ethan asked.
“We’ve got snacks and goody bags for you,” said Carlson.
Hey, that’s much better than an award.
I give the NSCD and the Colorado Mammoths an award for hosting an event that gave kids whom struggle with sports a chance to shine.

Good Luck Charm

My sister, Angela, won three hands of Rummy Royal while little Josie was in her lap.

May a little good luck come your way this new year.

A Special Gift

This past fall, Ethan has worked so hard to learn to read. In the beginning of the school year, he had only two or three sight words and would avoid reading homework. Now he is reading at grade level. Watching Ethan The Gingerbread Man to himself was a special Christmas gift to me.

Blurry Can Be Beautiful

What do I love about Christmas? I can’t get enough of staring at a lit-up Christmas tree in the dark with my glasses off. Sound bizarre? Hey, don’t knock it until you try it.
I am the oldest of four sisters and two brothers. Needless to say, there was a lot going on in my house. Down time was at a premium. So during the holidays, commotion was at an all-time high, between decorating the tree, baking cookies and wrapping the gifts. During the day, I would see glimpses of the Christmas tree between parents telling me to do this and that. All their hurriedness and requests made me dizzy. I just wanted some holiday peace.
So when everyone went to bed, I would sneak into the living room and gaze at our tree. This was back when environmentalism wasn’t even heard of, so we kept the Christmas tree lights on all night. After a while, I would get tired and take off my glasses. The blurry tree was awash in hazy, tear-stained circles of light, like a city street after a heavy rain.
As those globs of light twinkled in our silent living room, I felt the inner peace the holidays are supposed to bring.

This piece was inspired by State Of Discontent’s valient effort to win a Christmas tree for her family.

Happy Holidays, everyone.

Semi-Homemade Stocking

When I was a junior in college, I spent my Christmas break recovering from surgery. To help pass the time, my mom got me a felt Christmas tree skirt kit. I spent four days cutting out felt teddy bears and sewing them onto the skirt. I also embellished it with embroidery and sequins. It was a labor of love I devoted myself to because I had nothing better to do.
Making that skirt set my standards for Christmas crafts at a delusionally high level. When Ethan was born, I bought a felt Christmas stocking kit that I was going to make for him. It involved embroidery and sewing a multitude of sequins on it in the shape of a snow man. I confidently started on the project, thinking it wouldn’t take more than a month to finish. Uh … no. Actually, it took more than a year to complete because I didn’t factor taking care of a baby into the equation. If it wasn’t for our eight-hour drives from Chicago to Kentucky a few times a year, I would have never finished the stocking.
So then James comes along, and the pressure to make him his own homemade stocking built. I bought a stocking kit in which you cross-stitch a scene onto the stocking cuff. Just making a cuff didn’t seem too hard to do at first, until I realized that I am not good at cross stitch. There was no way I was going to rip out all those stitches and start all over again, so I abandoned the project. Thankfully, James was too young to notice that he had a plain red stocking hung up on the mantle.
This year, though, is different. James is almost 4 years old and takes note of every little thing Ethan has and demands the same for himself. It’s do-or-die stocking time for mommy.
So last week I went to Michael’s craft store searching for a stocking project that looked homemade but could be done in two hours or less. I found some green felt to make a stocking. That’s a great start, but I needed some glitz. Then I found some premade felt figures that you just glue on. Add some glitzy plastic rhinestones—and voila!—a stocking is born.

Love At A Bargain

I stood in front of a case of diamond engagement rings and watched Terry, Ethan and James walk out of the jewelry store into the crowded mall. “Are you doing this alone?” asked the salesman. “Yeah,” I laughed ruefully.
I was here to buy another engagement ring because I lost mine four years ago. I still remember the morning: I put my ring in my pocket to get sunscreen on Ethan before we went to a play date. I forgot to put it back on in the chaotic rush of trying to get a toddler out the door. When I finally remembered, it was gone.
I’ve always felt horrible about losing the ring. Terry planned to replace it and present it to me with romantic flourish. Nothing as extravagant as that jewelry commercial in which a couple is vacationing in Venice and the husband surprises the wife with some massive diamond ring in St. Mark’s Square. Lots of kissing and hugging ensue.
No, springing it at me at some cozy restaurant dinner—no cooking/no kids—would have been just fine.
But the years passed, and that particular romantic dinner didn’t happen because we didn’t have the money to replace the ring. Then last weekend my sister told me about a jewelry store that is going out of business. Bargains were to be had.
Shopping a fire sale with two kids in tow isn’t exactly romantic, but I guess middle age makes you practical. While Terry entertained Ethan and James at the mall, I checked out the rings. I still wasn’t sure I was going to get one. Even at a discount, diamond rings are expensive, and we have a long list of items we should spend money on. I don’t need a ring as proof of our love for each other.
But never underestimate the power of bling. Within a few minutes of trying on some rings, I fell in love:

When we got to the car, Terry took the ring from me and slipped it on my finger. I got the same thrill that I did the first time he slipped a ring on my finger that fateful Valentine's Day 16 years ago.

Love Them And Leave Them

My post-partum sister managed to make it to my house this past weekend for a family gathering. I couldn't wait to see her, and more importantly, Josie. When my sister sat Josie, which was sleeping in her car seat, on the living room floor, I stared at her in awe. Look at this picture of her, all snuggled up on my sister's shoulder like a lump of love. Babies are so soft and cuddly and innocent. When I hold one, I forget my problems and just be.
Josie was an angel at dinner and slept. Every once in a while, she'd softly squeak, something I forgot newborns did. Those sounds ratcheted up the maternal yearnings a little, but then reality set in. Josie's sleeping now, letting my sister and brother-in-law socialize, but in a couple of hours she'll be wide awake and demanding something--food, a diaper change--just when they will want to unwind and hit the hay. I never did well with the 24/7 newborn duty. I craved sleep when my two sons were newborns. I used to fantasize about staying in a hotel by myself with the curtains pulled and sleeping two days straight.
I must be still recovering from my newborn days, because as much as I love being around a baby, I don't want another of my own. Holding one and handing him or her back to the mother is more my speed.

A Potty Party

On July 4, our family celebrated its own personal liberation from buying diapers. After one nail-biting week, James is (knock on wood) potty trained! We threw a little party for James to show our deepest gratitude. He asked for a pirate cake, which we couldn't find. So my resourceful husband bought a Boston cream cake and stuck to pirate action figures in the frosting. No complaints all around.

Love At First Sight

I try not to crush
this whisper-weight cocoon in
my clumsy brown arms.

Her tiny limbs flutter
against me as her face beams
pure serenity.

Meet Josephine, or Josie, my new, wonderful 8-pound niece. Do you haiku? Click here to learn more.

Countdown to Stork

Today my baby sister Angela celebrated having a baby of her own--her second, to be exact. We met at her sister-in-law's house for the baby shower. Angela refused to find out the baby's sex, which is killing me, and proudly wore a green dress to mark the occasion. Here she is doing her best Angelina Jolie imitation. Click here to see:
We were treated to a lovely lunch--I had seconds of the clam dip. Then Angela opened her gifts, and Katie, her 2-year-old daughter, did a great job helping her unwrap them. Katie was a little perturbed when she first saw the huge pile of gifts for her mommy, but her Aunt Casey eased the pain by getting her a special swim suit and princess towel. Katie proudly modeled her suit for everyone:

The occasion made me realize how fast time flies--my second "baby" is 3 years old now. I'm so excited for Angela, and can't wait for a new niece or nephew to love.

He's a Big Boy Now

Yesterday was Ethan's graduation from kindergarten. I used to think it was little much to make such a big deal about leaving kindergarten--you still have five more years of elementary school. But the speech Ethan's principal gave at the ceremony's beginning got me thinking. She described how the kindergarteners start out as caterpillars that, by the end of the year, have transformed into butterflies from all the experiences kindergarten provides.

The speech made me realize what a big deal this year has been for both Ethan and myself. Once Ethan started kindergarten, homelife became a little less all-encompassing, and school, with its academics and peer interaction, became a major factor in Ethan's life.

And while the transformation wasn't painless, Ethan has become a beautiful butterfly. He struggled academically, but persevered and made tremendous progress. School also introduced him to art, which I think will be lifelong creative outlet for him.

For me, the ceremony solidified how time marches on. A sign on the wall behind the 100 kindergarteners read "Class of 2020." That sounds so far away, but then again, when Ethan was a baby, kindergarten seemed far away, too. During the ceremony, I had to say good bye to Ethan's baby- and toddlerhood. It was good I had this occasion to savor it before it flew away.