Tater Tots...

Dad passed away just over 10 years ago. Mom’s death was in 2004. Some days it feels like multiple decades have passed, other days it seems like yesterday and I can recall conversations with one or both of them in great detail. At times I swear I can hear the sound of their voices, and see some of Dad’s quirky mannerisms, or Mom’s occasional scrutinizing glance. 

The earliest picture I have of Mom & Dad together, early or mid-1940’s...

The Store...

Hubs is not a shopper, never has been. Hates it actually. Prit-near torture if he has to go to a mall. It’s gotten worse as he’s aged. Even 20 years ago he could putter around Meijer for a half hour in the sporting goods, hardware or automotive department. Now he complains that Meijer only has groceries and clothes, which is probably pretty close to the truth.

Meijer produce department. They’ve eliminated most departments besides food and clothes...

Great Set of Choppers...

Not a week goes by where I don’t see a couple of posts on Facebook about clothing. A genuine concern from a complaining mom. Her unhappiness with the manufacturers of children’s clothing. Usually girls clothing. Upset mom’s been shopping but has come home empty handed. And angry. Why? Because some little girls clothing offered has become too grownup, too suggestive, and mom doesn’t want her kid wearing that crap. I notice this ‘kids growing up’ way too fast in a lot of areas. Yet when you talk about it to parents most say it’s gotta stop. Let little kids be kids for awhile.

Jovi Marie, 18 months. Wearing totally appropriate clothing and wearing it well...

We have a staff meeting 2 hours a month, always at night, right after the last child leaves and we’re closed. Classes on various subjects dealing with children. Everything from being an advocate for all children, CPR, discipline, to community outreach for kids. We’ve been working on a long series right now on conscious discipline. The speaker has a great sense of humor and I’ve enjoyed her take on young children. A large clip of her last class was encouraging teachers to let our small children play. Yup, it’s that simple. Our kids are spending too much time with the iPad, in front of the tv, in organized sports and activities at a very young age, but not spending enough time playing in the rain. It seems as though mud, rain, sand, playing in the grass is actually good for kids. Period. Who knew? And we don’t let, or actively make the time to encourage them to simply play outside together enough, using their imagination and some old fashioned playground equipment.

Our room continues to evolve. For 3 years it’s simply been the infant room. Up to the time babies are between 12-14 months, they’re ours to care for and help mold. Then, because they’re toddlers, they would be eased into the next room with The Wonderful Ones. Sounds logical, has worked well. Until it was decided to let the babies remain in the infant room longer. Ease the enormous stress for them of having to move from our room. Don’t get me started. Already expressed my strong feelings what a bunch of hooey I think this is.

Now I’m fretting from a couple of those changes, not particularly the change itself, but the timing. This goes back to the manufacturer’s inappropriate clothing for kids. In a world where we constantly say, let them be little kids, it seems we’re doing exactly the opposite. I was a stay at home mom raising our 3 children. My kids slept in their cribs until they were dry through the night. Which happened about the age of 2-1/2. Then they got a big bed because they were big kids.

Where breakfast and lunch is served, but not for very long. Gotta go, gotta go...

Our babies each have their own crib to nap in. State law requires babies under 1 must have their own crib each day. Every child over 1 but under 3 must have a crib or cot. When the babies get fussy, we rock them to sleep. Maybe takes 5-10 minutes and they’re out like a light. Lay them down in their assigned crib, note the time and move on. Recently 4 cots have been added to our room. The cots sit about 3 inches off the floor. We throw on a crib sheet, move the immobile babies out of their designated area during nap time so the big kids can sleep there. Two or 3 people sit between the cots and lay down toddlers approximately 40 times, patting their backs until they fall asleep. Why? I don’t understand or see the advantage.

The other change is worse. Now the one year olds are supposed to sit on small chairs at a table which is about 15 inches high. For 2-1/2 years I’ve been able to feed 4 kids at one time. A couple usually are already eating finger foods while 2 might have cereal, jars or pouches of baby food. I sit on a bench, facing them. Each high chair tray holds a bowl or plate with food if they can feed themselves. I use masking tape with their names for the ones with baby food. We play pat-a-cake or I’ll sing songs or old commercial jingles while they eat. Pick up their sippy cups (also with their name on it) 20 times because it’s still fun to throw them even though they’re mere inches off the floor.

Imagine, if you will the game of whack-a-mole. A table with holes every few inches. Your goal is to see how fast you can ‘bop’ the little mole who sticks his head through one of the holes. But as soon as you make him disappear, another appears in a different hole. It happens very fast and constantly. Well that’s what a table of 4, 13-18 months old looks like. Just without the mallet. Now matter how hungry they are, they cannot remain seated. It’s like their little butt has a minute timer and they have to stand up, push away from the table and walk away. As soon as you set one down, show him his plate, drink, fork or spoon, another one is leaving. Then another, and another. Constant battle to get them sit for 10 minutes. They’re definitely eating less. Too many distractions. Other’s plates and silverware are now within easy reach. Why do we insist they eat at a big table when they’re not big? We just can’t let them be little when they’re still little. Why is that? What’s the advantage with cots and tables as opposed to cribs and high chairs? I don’t understand the reasoning, and find this very frustrating.

One morning this week I walked in our room, and noticed a new table and 2 chairs in the play area. The chairs resemble Adirondacks, and the table solid maple or birch, round and quite large, maybe 40 inches. Sitting about 15 or 18 inches off the ground, my first though was, is that not the cutest thing ever? Followed by, wonder which one of the boys will be standing on top of the table within the first 2 minutes of spotting it. As God is my witness it did not take 2 minutes. Let’s hope the novelty wears off quickly for the table and chairs.

How cute is this? They would rather climb on than sit so far...

One of our oldest kids wasn’t feeling the need for a nap. Major meltdown and this cutie has a set of pipes. Worthy of window shattering. Since she was disrupting the entire room, her immediate need for sleep was abandoned for the moment. I was rocking a baby to sleep close to her loud complaints. I growled and said, “woman” and tickled her arm. Tears forgotten, she squealed with delight and backed just out of my reach. Only to inch closer and closer with a huge grin on her face. Then I growl “woman” and repeat the tickle. Which made her giggle, back up and start all over again. She’d throw her head black, laugh maniacally (she really was tired). It was then I noticed her wide open mouth. “Hey, when the kids have more teeth than me, do they finally get to move?”...

Hot Town, Summer in the City...

Hot town, summer in the city, back of my neck getting dirty and gritty.
Been down, isn’t it a pity, doesn’t seem to be a shadow in the city.
All around, people looking half dead,
Walking on the sidewalk, hotter than a match head.

Is this hell? No, just the temperature in Las Vegas the whole time we were there...

Go Green-Go White...

I tend to view different ideas, changes of any kind, even introductions to new foods with some reluctance. Who am I trying to kid? I wrote a story not long ago about the first time Hubs took me to a Chinese restaurant. Had to be 35 years ago when we lived in Davenport. As he forcibly moved my feet towards the fancy entrance, I started to cry. Honest. Such a wuss. All because I didn’t want to experience a new food. Maybe reluctance is not quite the right word. Let’s go with-unwilling, hesitant, opposed, unenthusiastic, reserved or disinclined.

My sister-in-law Mary Jane, with her signature mega watt smile...

This whole fiasco is my sister-in-law’s fault. Oh, I’m gonna call her out on it too. Right here in bold type. (Sorry, I don’t know how to type bold). Rest assured, I’m pounding the keys much harder than necessary. MARY JANE VAN BERKUM. I do however, know how to ‘capitalize’ in a situation. Ha!

It was mid-February, 2017, our first trip to Yuma. Hubs and I were unwittingly mere pawns in her scheme of things. We were trying to accomplish 2 objectives in one big swoop. Get away for a short respite during Michigan’s worst weather during our 8 month season called winter. But not stay away too long so I wouldn’t miss very many basketball games of Landon’s (Drew to the rest of the world) sophomore season. Part of her mission was to see we were kept occupied with sight seeing, eating out, and learning about an area we knew absolutely nothing about. The desert. Our other objective was a health issue. I had a tooth that needed major repair, plus the rest of my mouth was in need of remodeling. It was ok. Mary Jane knew a guy.

This is the dentist dude Mary Jane recommended. He was terrific...

It was her job to cram as many new things into our boring existence. And do this in about 2 weeks. So besides working around some dental appointments in Los Algodones, Mexico, Mary Jane was unfettered in her planning. We were just along for the ride.

One of the places we toured that I haven’t mentioned in my 3 blogs about Yuma, (“The 3:10 to Yuma”, “To Kofa with Les”, and “It’s all about the Name”) was actually near Winterhaven, California. (Hard to find, hard to get there and so bumpy I was fearful of knocking out the new hardware in my mouth). But fascinating. Established when World War ll army guys were training in the desert. They started writing their names, made out of small rocks against the white sands of the desert. They called it, Graffiti Mesa, and the tradition has continued. And grown. This rather odd attraction now covers 1,200 acres. And the rocks have to be hauled in to boot.

The Valley of Names in the desert...

Not to be sidetracked and get all warm and fuzzy about our dedicated tour guides, so back to Mary Jane. Part of each day usually included setting for a spell at their winter-haven-home-away-from-home. A glass of wine, or her expertly concocted margaritas, a little down time to reconnect and just shoot the shit for a spell. And she added a bit of stealthy maneuvering before we went out to eat somewhere. New eats. Neese-don’t-do-new-eats. First let me be clear.

Such an odd sight in the middle of the desert, near Winterhaven Ca...

1. I’ve never really been a “cracker” girl. Hubs can eat crackers with different sliced cheeses and a hard as a brick salami he sends for via internet, every few days. He’ll make a good sized attractive plate with sliced chunk cheeses, a row of salami slices and oodles of crackers arranged neatly. Walk up to me like an offering plate, and I’ll politely take one or 2 crackers, one slice of cheese and one slice of meat. Done.

I prefer, “let’s eat cake...”

2. If offered a dessert tray with a dozen choices, anything with cream cheese-will be my last choice. I just prefer a slice of fruit or cream pie, cake, brownie, or torte to a piece of cheesecake.

Happy Birthday MJ...

3. I’m not into spicy foods. Don’t like ‘hot stuff’ though I like my food very hot. I know I’m odd. Doritos are about as spicy hot as I like to go.

Imagine my dismay when Mary Jane hauls out a gorgeous small platter consisting of an entire brick of cream cheese. Looking rather smushed, sadly resembling Iowa snow drifts during a blizzard. But wait! It gets worse. (Sorry Jane) On top of this white mountain is a startling sight. Bright green globs (I must say though, it did have great eye appeal). What, pray tell might this be? Jalapeño Jelly. You’ve got to be kidding me. Oh for cripes sake, just kill me now.

Gulp....

Now go back to the end of my first paragraph. There I was, reluctant, unwilling, hesitant, opposed, unenthusiastic, reserved and disinclined to even try it. Who in the world would eat Jalapeño Jelly? Valiantly trying not to be rude, I picked up my knife and a club cracker and wheedled a speck of cream cheese the size of celery seed and generously smeared it all over the cracker. Taking a deep breath, my knife shakily returns to the massive glob of greenery. I can do this. I am woman. Hear me roar. Or whimper. A tear or 2 might have fallen from my face which was now frozen in a grimace/smile (imagine Jack Nicholson’s face in the Shining or Heath Ledger as the Joker in The Dark Knight). I sniff, trying to stop my nose from running. Oddly, the odor smells remarkably tasty. WTH. Not so easily fooled, I manage to snag an iota of jalapeño jelly and forcibly will my hand to try and smother the cream cheese. Now I’m not really sure I can go through with this. Meanwhile, Mary Jane is clicking off a dozen sight seeing adventures that have been added to tomorrow’s agenda and seems not to notice my rendition of, I’m really, truly suffering here at the wailing wall.

Club cracker, cream cheese and jalapeño jelly. Absurd...

Biting off a minutely small crumb, my mouth explodes with tingly sweet spicy-ness. While the Jalapeño jelly is quite sweet, the cream cheese off centers it from tasting too sweet. The cracker part adds a bit of salty crunch. Goodness, I’ve discovered God’s favorite appetizers now served in heaven. Greedily, I glop on a silver dollar size of cream cheese which is now dwarfed by the Oreo Double Stuff sized placing of jalapeño jelly. No one seems to take notice that half of the platter is now missing, they’re busy deciding what time we need to meet up in the morning. I will not be among the tourists however. I am not leaving this table until there is not another smidge of jalapeño jelly left in this house.

And just that quick.

I. Am. Addicted.

It’s all Mary Jane’s fault.

After we return to Michigan and the reality of work and winter, my nights are filled with dreams of Jalapeño Jelly. I searched every grocery store, even bought a jar I spotted, but it didn’t taste the same at all. I have to go back to Yuma for some green stuff. Right now. Heck with my teeth, warm weather and relatives. Mary Jane buys it from a gal when she goes to a flea market in Yuma every winter. How can I afford a ton, plus shipping it to my house? Hubs calmly gives my shoulders a little shake. “Get a grip. Look up the freaking recipe and learn how to can it yourself. Duh. It’s what you do with everything else. You’ve got to get out from under this jelly’s spell. You cannot pine for an entire year about jelly.” Reality returned.

Yes it’s very possibly the best appetizer. Ever...

The recipe was foreboding. You have to use a food processor (I don’t own one) and as far as jellies and jams go, it’s made completely the opposite of any jelly I’ve ever made. I borrowed Shannon’s food processor, bought 2 dozen jalapeños, cider vinegar, liquid pectin (I prefer powdered, but this crazy recipe was adamant) sugar and green food coloring. That’s it.

The expression I wear before trying something new...

The nightmares have stopped. Had the Hubs buy a small locking safe, hidden somewhere safe and secure. My 2 dozen jar stash have calmed my fears and I’ve returned to my former somewhat normal existence. For now. God help me if I can’t one day find that little basket of fresh jalapeños in Meijer produce department. All bets are off...