Author Archives: Mom Meets Blog

Have Glue Gun, Will Craft

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With the Thanksgiving leftovers almost a distant memory and the holiday season officially underway, visions of glitter and glue guns have begun dancing in my head.  As these next few weeks become increasingly hectic, I like to take time out with my family to flex our DIY muscles and create Christmas decorations.  I have found that this is a fun way to slow down and connect with family and friends during the holiday season.

When my son was younger, we would brush white craft glue onto plain glass ornaments and roll them in glitter (think rolling snicker doodle cookie dough in cinnamon sugar).  It was fun and easy and yes, messy, but we still hang those ornaments on the tree years later.  As he’s gotten older, we’ve graduated to painting glass ornaments and using a hot glue gun to bedazzle them with crystals, feathers, ribbons, even birds!  An easy cut and glue craft that we enjoyed doing together consisted of taking a tin or cardboard star, cutting festive scrapbooking paper to size, gluing the pieces onto the star and sealing it with clear or glittery Mod Podge – adding a seasonal ribbon completed the look.

Check out  some of our creations from Christmas past, before and after:

Plain glass globes and a tin star

Paint and feathers, Mod Podge and crystals – voila!

Plenty of inspiration abounds on websites like Pinterest as well as craft stores like JoAnn’s or Michael’s. One project that I was excited to try this year is this adorable Santa Tulle Wreath from Jill at babyrabies.com. Her tutorial is easy to follow – check out the results.

Santa Tulle Wreath cute

If you have a particular idea in mind or need some guidance, Michaels.com has great suggestions for crafting projects ranging from ornament decorating to cookie baking to sewing.  Plaidonline.com is also an excellent resource for more holiday crafting ideas, as well as year-round and rainy day projects. Both these sites offer materials lists, pictures and clear instructions so even the novice or youngest crafter can turn out some really fun and pretty awesome decorations.

What are your favorite holiday crafting projects?  I’m always looking for new inspiration, so let me know!

The Substitute

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On Saturday morning I took my son to the neighborhood barber for a desperately needed haircut.  After much protesting and eye-rolling, he agreed that his curly hair was out of control.  Two weeks of wrangling with it unsuccessfully was enough to get him in the chair and see if the barber could reach that happy medium between messy and controlled – messy enough for him to think it’s cool and controlled enough for me to resist the urge to blow on his head like a dandelion and have all the overgrown hair magically fly away.

We walked into the barbershop and he sat in the chair and told the barber what he wanted – long on top and short on the sides and back.  The barber (with a wink to me) suggested taking an inch off the top just to clean it up a bit, to which my son agreed as I wisely kept my mouth shut.  Sitting there I recalled a conversation my son and I had some years back, when, as a decidedly less snarky six-year-old, he told me he might want to be a “haircutter” when he grew up, among other occupations.

The list at that time also included being a musician, an astronaut, a ninja warrior, a preschool teacher, and a chocolate factory owner.  The more his world expanded around him, the more interested he became in what folks did for a living, and whenever he learned about a new occupation, he would declare that that’s exactly what he wanted to be when he grew up .

One day, perhaps overwhelmed by all the myriad employment options in the world, he told me that when he grew up, he wanted to be a substitute.

“A substitute teacher?” I remember asking him.  “No mom, just a substitute.  Like, when a grown up gets sick and can’t do their job, I’ll go in and do it for them.  Like on Monday I can be a rock star, on Tuesday I can be a chef, on Wednesday I can drive a school bus. . .”  Well, I figured with this plan he would certainly never be bored or unemployed.  I remember smiling and telling him that he would have to know about a lot of different things to do all those different jobs.  How would he learn them all?

And with that beaming bundle of confidence only a six-year-old can possess, he said very seriously and matter-of-factly, “well I don’t know, but I know I can do them all.”  As far as he was concerned, it was a foregone conclusion.  How could I possibly have any doubts?  Sitting in the barbershop and thinking about that exchange reminded me of the inspiring and magical ability children possess to believe that all things are possible and within reach.  As adults, to be dusted with a bit of that magic every day is a blessing.

Currently the 11-year-old’s list still includes musician but filmmaker has also entered the fray.  As his mom, of course I believe he can do anything he sets his mind to.  And as far as I can tell, he hasn’t stopped believing that either.  I’m sure if I remind him of this conversation now he would just sigh and tell me to stop embarrassing him.  But if I did that, then I wouldn’t be doing my job. 🙂

Photo courtesy of Google Images

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It’s Just a Cough, Right?

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My son’s friends came home with him after school today to hang out for a while.  As the boys tumbled through the door, divesting themselves of their jackets, backpacks and sneakers (no shoes in the house!!) I noticed that one of them was sporting a pretty nasty cough.

Normally I’m not paranoid about other kids’ coughs, sneezes, or runny noses – kids get sick, including my own –  I offer tissues and insist on hand washing to keep the germs at bay, and that’s usually enough to keep things under control.  But last week we got a notice from the school nurse that a case of whooping cough had been identified in the school, and in my son’s grade to boot.  I knew for sure that my son’s friend wasn’t the affected individual, but as soon as the boys were settled in I grabbed the notice and gave it another read.

I learned that whooping cough (pertussis) is a highly contagious bacterial infection that causes an uncontrollable, violent cough lasting several weeks or even months.  It can begin with cold-like symptoms or a dry cough that can progress to episodes of severe coughing.  It is spread from person to person by direct contact with mucus or droplets from the nose and throat of infected individuals.   At that point a visual of microscopic droplets, pregnant with pertussis, being hacked into the air popped in to my head.   In my vivid imaginings I pictured those droplets landing on the Legos and Nerf guns the kids were playing with, and then making their way into their noses and throats. . .

That’s when I went to the laundry room and grabbed my can of Lysol disinfectant and started spraying.  Everything.  Even those stinky sneakers by the door.  The kids didn’t seem to notice.

I asked my son’s friend how long he’d been coughing and he replied that it’s been a few days now, “but it’s not that whooping cough”, he insisted “I just have a cold.”  I simply smiled and kept on spraying.

After the kids left, my son remarked that his coughing friend had been uncharacteristically cranky today.  I explained to him that he probably wasn’t feeling well, and then I called his mom to let her know that he’d been out of sorts and coughing quite a bit this afternoon.  She thanked me and assured me that it was nothing to worry about.   Was I being a little paranoid?  Perhaps,  but I told my son to wash his hands and face thoroughly and continued to Lysol all the Legos and Nerf guns. . .

The Itsy, Bitsy Spider. . .

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As summer vacation drew to a close and my son went off to school this morning, he reminded me to be sure to check in on our new tenant, Charlotte.  Charlotte has taken up residence on our terrace,  commandeering our patio umbrella and chairs.  Ever since Charlotte set up housekeeping out there, we’ve had to  be very careful not to disturb her home whenever we walk out onto the terrace – my husband nearly demolished her  little condo when he stepped out there yesterday while reading the newspaper.  Charlotte, our friendly neighborhood spider, is an industrious little thing, having woven several webs between our patio umbrella and chairs over the past week or so.  When she’s not web-slinging, she tends to hide inside the umbrella, perhaps taking a nap.  It’s been so interesting watching her over the last week and we wonder how long she’ll stay; my son hopes forever, but I’m guessing until the fall when the weather turns cooler.

To remember her when she finally does decide to depart (isn’t it bad luck to evict a spider?), my son and I put together a little video of Charlotte in action – hope you’ll enjoy watching our little squatter as much as we have.

California Roll – The Gateway Sushi

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Ah, summertime and the living is easy.  In between play dates, lazy afternoons at the pool,  assorted day trips and movies, my son and I ducked into the local Barnes and Noble to escape the summer heat.  Ignoring my gentle suggestions and the selections on his 6th grade reading list, my kid walked out of the book store with James Patterson’s Middle School, Get Me Out of Here! and. . . a sushi making kit.

My son loves sushi.  Okay, technically he loves California rolls, which perhaps for the true sushi aficionado is not really considered sushi; like the fortune cookie, the California roll is an American invention.  Created in the early 1970s by a sushi chef in Los Angeles, it consists of crab, avocado and cucumber wrapped in rice and nori (seaweed) and sprinkled with sesame seeds.  But, I like to think of it as a gateway sushi – if he’s enjoying this now, maybe as he gets older he’ll move onto a tuna roll or some hardcore sashimi.  Anything that expands a kid’s culinary horizons is fine by me, and $10 is a small price to pay for his delighted enthusiasm.

The Sushi Making Kit from Mud Puddle Inc. provides the essentials – recipe book, rolling mat, rice paddle, and two sets of chopsticks.  Most of the  ingredients are readily available at the supermarket in the Asian foods section, and I found the crab sticks at our neighborhood produce market.  The sushi rice is easy to prepare, and once all the ingredients are cut up and the rice has cooled,  you’re (literally) ready to roll.

My son quickly took charge, and following the easy instructions, here’s how it turned out:

The ingredients

Spreading the rice on the nori

Adding the filling

Roooolling along. . .

A little chunky but good!

Ready for slicing; he used a serrated knife

Nice!

Ah, summertime – and the sushi is easy!

All photos courtesy of Mom Meets Blog

Anatomy of a Playdate

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I came home today to find my son’s cousins had come over to play for the afternoon. With my son suitably entertained for the time being and my husband on kid patrol, I comfortably settled in at my desk with a cup of hazelnut coffee and a croissant slathered in Nutella (what else?) and topped with apricot preserves, door tightly shut (should I lock it?), hoping to get some work done. My husband is supposed to be keeping the kids from killing each other watching the kids but I can hear that they are just about to begin a sword battle and I know that no good can come of this.  When it’s two 11 year olds against a 7 year old (or is it the other way around?) there’s bound to be bloodshed, or tears at least.

“Ow, that hurts!” I hear one of them cry out, I can’t tell which one.  I don’t hear my husband.  I hear the playing continue.  I hear a little body slamming, some running, jumping, banging, yelping and more sword clanging.  Still no husband.   I wonder if he’s fallen asleep on the couch.  I refuse to get up and check to see what’s going on.  I refuse to let my coffee get cold, and I’ve only eaten half my croissant.

I sit and listen, trying to discern whose voice is whose.  I hear some yelling, but can’t really make out what they’re saying. . . Uh  oh.  Now it’s quiet.  Too quiet.  I start to push back my chair. . .

Now they’re laughing.  Laughing is good, right?  Unless they’ve found something inappropriate on the internet (is that why they were so quiet?) and are now cackling hysterically over something that’s really funny or that they don’t understand – or both.

Good.  The sword clanging has resumed.  “I’m not kidding!  Stop!  Stop it!!” one of them bellows.  Still no reaction from my husband.  For goodness’ sake, what is he doing????

I am not getting up.  I can hear feet scurrying.  I hear rapid clicking sounds.  I wonder if my husband’s still in the house.

I take a sip of my coffee – still warm.  And then the crying begins.

It’s the 7 year old.  From what I gather about the melee occurring outside my door, he got pelted between the eyes with a Nerf gun bullet and didn’t like it.  When I came home I noticed at least five Nerf guns out and enough ammo to take out a small (Lego) village, with the younger one sporting multiple weapons, dispatching foam balls and bullets at the hapless two older kids.  Turnabout is fair play, little man.

“All right guys, that’s it!” I hear my husband parenting (finally!)  He tells one of the kids to put down the shield (?) and for everybody to sit down and watch TV.

It’s quiet again.

I polish off my croissant.  The doorbell rings – it’s the boys’ dad come to pick them up.  I can hear them all talking and saying goodbye.  I don’t move.  I finish this post.  And my coffee.

Photos courtesy of Google Images and Mom Meets Blog

Am I Renewed and Radiant Enough?

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Has anyone seen the commercials for “Dove ClearTone” deodorant and “Tampax Radiant” tampons?  I caught these commercials on television the other night – I don’t know if they’ve been around awhile or if it’s just the first time I’m seeing them, but the message I got from these two ads was a) my armpits need renewing and b) my tampon is not radiant enough.  And isn’t that just the way with advertising?  To trick us into thinking that what we’re using isn’t good enough/radiant enough/renewing enough and that next new thing will make our lives so much better!

First up is “Dove ClearTone” deodorant.  The ad claims that this product “visibly reduces underarm dark marks for more even-looking skin tone in just 2 weeks”.  I thought those dark marks were just razor stubble and I needed to do a better job of shaving, but apparently shaving is the culprit.  Dove claims that shaving and the resulting dryness of underarm skin causes the offending discoloration; that’s why their product is so vital.  They are daring me to try their product and then bare my “renewed underarms”.  I like to multi-task – can’t I just slather some Regenerist under there when I’m done “renewing” my face and neck, which happen to be way more visible than my armpit skin?  I suppose that Dove’s new product is something of a multi-tasker itself, providing protection against odor and wetness while bleaching my armpits.  I just didn’t know I needed it.  Thanks for the heads up.

And then there’s the “Tampax Radiant” tampon ad.  I wonder what makes them “radiant”?  Do they glow in the dark for easy insertion during a blackout?  I just picture opening the box and being momentarily blinded.  The website states that:

New Tampax Radiant tampons give you an ultimate protection experience like never before! The Radiant tampon features FormFit™ protection that gently expands to fit your unique shape, a LeakGuard™ braid to help stop leaks before they happen, a CleanSeal™ wrapper—the first ever re-sealable wrapper for worry-free disposal—and a CleanGrip™ applicator designed for incredible comfort.

Okay – new, improved, enhanced, redesigned, convenient, revolutionary?  Maybe.  But radiant?  A bride is radiant.  The sun is radiant.  But a tampon is neither shining, luminous or bright.  Although if you’re caught without protection at that critical moment, having a tampon handy would be a pretty brilliant idea, to be sure.  In the commercial the actress utters the tagline “it helps keep my period out of sight, so I can stand out” – while the girls sniffing around her targeted cute guy disappear into sparkly poufs of smoke and some shimmering graphics dance around a tampon (my guess is that’s the radiant part).  Huh?  I guess the secret to getting the guy is using a sparkly tampon – excuse me, a radiant tampon.  I’d still close my eyes when opening the box, just to be safe.

So sorry, marketing mavens, but I’m perfectly happy with the products I currently use (which don’t happen to include either of these brands anyway), so I think I’ll skip the bleached armpits and glittery tampons.  But I did get sucked into buying a can of Kaboom FoamTastic bathroom cleaner today – you know the one that sprays on blue and turns white when clean??  The lure of graffiti tagging the bathtub with a freshly scented blue foam proved too great, and I caved – those advertising gods show no mercy. 🙂

Photo courtesy of Google Images

The Birds, the Bees & Bye Bye Birdie

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Last week we went to see the 7th & 8th grade production of Bye Bye Birdie at my son’s middle school.  I am particularly fond of this piece because, back in the day, I was one of the “screaming girls” in my 8th grade’s production of the musical.  I remember how much fun all my friends and I had singing the songs during rehearsals, and how exciting the performances were.  I felt that my son would also enjoy the play because, although it is set in the late 1950s, the themes still ring true today – bewildered parents, their hormone driven teenagers, and the maniacal worship of teen idols (paging Justin Bieber – or is it One Direction now?  Kids!).  My son absolutely roared with laughter at one point when, during a frustrating encounter with his children, the Harry MacAfee character sputters, “I didn’t know what puberty was until I was almost past it!”  I think he found that funny because there’s been so much puberty talk at school lately (it’s one of the units of study this semester) that he couldn’t imagine anyone actually missing it!

As I was helping my son study for a test on that subject one evening, I could tell by my husband’s bemused expression that, like Harry MacAfee, he didn’t quite know what to make of it all.  Certainly our respective parents never quizzed us on the term for “the spurting out of semen from the penis” or the name of “the entire outside genital area of a female”.  In my experience, “the period talk” consisted of receiving an informative book and a box of pads courtesy of Kimberly-Clark, and where babies came from (and how they got there in the first place) was not a topic parents discussed with their children.  But there I sat, discussing testicles, vaginas, and nocturnal emissions with my son as though we were chatting about what he had for lunch in the cafeteria that afternoon, while my husband busied himself in the kitchen so as not to get involved disturb us.  I knew he felt uncomfortable, but he would have to get over that, and fast.

I will say that talking about puberty and the changes that both boys’ and girls’ bodies undergo in such a matter-of-fact way has so normalized this conversation that I feel it has opened the door for a kind of closeness that I’m sure many of us didn’t experience with our folks when we were growing up.  I want my son to know that he can talk to me about this or anything else that comes his way.  I certainly welcome and feel very comfortable with this new chapter in our relationship.  I remember reading about a Details  magazine article where The Avengers  star Chris Evans revealed that his mom was the first person he told when he lost his virginity.  I wonder if I will be privy to that information.  I mean, the kid just gave me a surprisingly accurate explanation of the process of menstruation and he’s figured out why mommy has a “stomachache” every month, so I guess anything is possible.

While I was making breakfast on the morning of the test, my son asked my husband to quiz him on the material one last time.  I held my breath for a second to see if he was going to lob this one over to me or whether he would bite the bullet and jump on the puberty bandwagon.  Without skipping a beat my husband said “Sure” and they sat down together for a final review.  And with that we all entered a brave new world.

Oh, and the test?  My son came home proudly waving it around yesterday.  He got a 95.  🙂

Check out “What’s the Matter with Kids Today” from the 1963 film version of Bye Bye Birdie

Photos courtesy of Wikipedia and Barnes & Noble

And the Beautiful Blogger Award Goes to. . .

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Me!  I am certainly enjoying an embarrassment of riches lately!  Just last month I thoroughly enjoyed a game of blog tag initiated by the engaging Kathy Lashley, and now I have been nominated by the lovely What Jane Read Next for the Beautiful Blogger Award!  I picture myself gliding across the stage in an elegant Marchesa gown to accept my award, which is a glittering Swarovski crystal laptop (jeez, this thing is heavy) as the crowd shouts out my name – “Mom? Mom??  MOM!!”  Oh wait, that’s my son. . . well, back to reality!

The rules of this game are simple: share seven things about yourself and then nominate seven other bloggers.

First, I’ll share:

  •  I love action movies – Transformers, Mission Impossible, Die Hard – anything with heroes, villains, explosions, aliens, totally improbable plot lines, etc., and I’m in.
  • My favorite flower is the peony, and they’re in season right now. Their lush blooms and delicate scent are so evocative of spring for me.

  • I don’t like getting manicures; I’d rather do it myself.  But I would get a pedicure every day of the week if I could.  Go figure.
  •  Unlike What Jane Read Next, I love listening to the Gotye song “Somebody That I Used to Know” precisely because it reminds me of somebody that I used to know.
  •  My favorite place to be is the beach, and I would love to have a house by the ocean someday.
  •  Last summer when I went to Rome on vacation, I fell in love with burrata, a delicious cheese that originates from Puglia – delizioso!

  •  It is very unfortunate that I am allergic to both dogs and cats, (I had to take my son to the allergist with me so the doctor could explain it to him because he wouldn’t believe me) so we have fish – sometimes.

 Now, the nominations for the Beautiful Blogger Award go to:

I look forward to learning more about these great bloggers and thanks again to What Jane Read Next for thinking of me!

Photos courtesy of theKitchn.com and Google Images

Fifty Shades of Nutella

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I’m standing at the kitchen counter about to start dinner.  I open the cabinet to round up the ingredients for this evening’s meal and I see it, that seemingly innocent white-lidded jar, beckoning my attention.  I look away and continue gathering my supplies, but its call is too great to ignore.  I remove the Nutella  from the cabinet and slowly twist off its lid.  I open the drawer below and grab a spoon.  I put  the jar on the counter and hold it in place with one hand as I dip the spoon into the jar with the other, its contents yielding against the touch of the stainless steel.  I raise the spoon to my lips, closing my eyes and inhaling its familiar, delicate fragrance.  As it finds its way into my mouth, this intoxicating concoction slides off the spoon and onto my tongue, enveloping it like a silky blanket, the hint of hazelnut providing the perfect counterpoint to the smooth, velvety chocolate.  I open my eyes and, staring into the cabinet, inspiration strikes – dare I reach for the peanut butter?  My taste buds shiver at the thought.  No, I decide as my inner goddess pouts, that’s too much for now.  “Perhaps another time”, I can almost hear the peanut butter grinning salaciously.  I plunge the spoon into the jar again and again, greedily devouring the Nutella like a . . .

A small voice shakes me out of my reverie.  “Is dinner almost ready?” my son calls out from the living room.  I look down sheepishly at the jar in my hand and realize I’ve just consumed 600 calories worth of Nutella and we haven’t even had dinner yet.  I put the jar down and knot my fingers on the counter, chastising myself over my loss of control.  As I bite my lower lip, my subconscious smirks at me over her half-moon specs and clucks “A moment on the lips, no matter how sweet, a lifetime on the hips.”

I roll my eyes at her and angrily throw the spoon into the sink.  I shove the jar back in the cabinet, vowing to never lose control like that again (at least until the next time I open the cabinet).  Oh Nutella, you are a cruel master. . .

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Photos courtesy of Google Images and nutellachocolate.com