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Go read this.
Still, all things in moderation, Grandma always used to say. But, maybe we should go ahead and order those vegetable seeds and plant that bean fort. Anyway, planting seeds in dirt and watching them start indoors is a great way to fight the winter blues.
Parmesan contains the most calcium, ounce-for-ounce, of all the other types of cheeses.
Why not incorporate this cheese into a high-protein afternoon snack for after school? I watched Alton Brown make Parmesan cheese crisps in a snap. And snappy, they are. Delicious, crunchy, easy and quick. The kids can even grate their own cheese and make their own. Parchment paper is a must:
You could add sesame seeds, rosemary, thyme, red pepper… the possibilities are endless. Of course, plain and simple is always just right for kids.
As the crisps come out of the oven, Alton picked up the very warm crackers and molded them around the tops of spice bottles, so that they would cool and harden into the shape of little tarts. Once cool and hard, you fill the little cheese tarts with salsa, tomatoes, or any other kind of Italian veggie.
A few days after the 7-year-old hosted his friends to a rip-roaring birthday party that included ball-pit fun, and gambling away tokens at the slot machines, I presented him with his Thank You cards.
“You never told me this! You should have warned me before I invited everyone.”
Clutching his colored pencil like a bear trying to scratch his way through the forest, he reluctantly scrawls out the words, “Thank you for the Bakugan.” The words sprawl out in an uneven script covering the text and photo on the front of the cards.
Here’s my interpretation of the scowl of his face:
“I can’t BELIEVE she has the audacity to make me write something that has nothing to do with school or homework.”
As he begins to write the next card, he stops and says, “Wait a minute. These cards already say ‘thank you.’ I only have to write Camp Set.”
So, that’s exactly what he did.
UPDATE: Nothing!!! She FOUND NOTHING!! Turns out, as you get older, you get all kinds of funny growths on your skin, and these were all PERFECTLY HARMLESS!!! And the best part is, my skin cancer prevention routine also fights wrinkles! So, I will be posting a list of all the over-the-counter stuff the Doc recommends to fight cancer…. and repair wrinkles!!! So, keep drinking the tea and eating the berries… and lots of sunscreen. Thanks for all the e-mails and comments!
I’m not sure how I let it happen, but I let two full years pass without a full-body scan under the watchful eyes of a trained dermatologist. I, a one-time skin cancer victim, should have known better.
I’m dreading the sparse clinical-feel of the office, peeling off the clothes in the cold, sterile examining room, while I point out the few spots that I already think are suspicious, and the doctor surprising me with his concerns over a new spot; one that I have yet to discover. Knowing all too well that today’s damage to my skin was done years ago, and that while I do now drink mug after mug of green tea and eat handfuls of blackberries, the results of this exam are completely out of my control. My skin is a wild card. It could go either way.
Stay alert to your own skin. The skin cancer my doctor found two years ago did not look like your typical run-of-the-mill skin cancer, based on the photos you see hanging up on posters in the doctor’s office, or web pages. Those gory photos are well-advanced skin cancer, and are misleading. Skin cancer, when it starts, can look as innocent as a red, flat spot, that maybe flakes as if you have dry skin.
You think about how well your life is going; that maybe things are just too good to be true, and that maybe this could be your slap in the face.
The appointment also brings up the that reminder that when I get into the car and drive home, I won’t be able to give my concerned Mother the details of what the doctor said, and the play-by-play of next steps, biopsy appointments to be scheduled around her calendar so that she will be available to watch my kids. She is no longer the back-up sounding board who says, “Oh, it will be nothing,” or “Do you want me to come with you?” or “Do you want to drop your kids off here, or do you want me to come over?”
Instead, my son will be sitting in the waiting room with me, and we’ll flip through the Nickelodeon Magazines, while I’ll keep trying to sneak a peek at House Beautiful. He will be a nice distraction.
The last time, I felt indignant, as I drove home alone (husband watching the kids) with bandages taped around my face. Alone, because just a few months earlier, my Mother had the audacity to die, leaving so many of her jobs, like this one, as chief hand-holder, unfinished. Now, two years later, I’m all grown up, and realize that yes, I can go through these kinds of things on my own now.
In fact, I rather enjoyed the three hours of blissful alone time. A rarity. To sit and read a book, free of interruptions and questions. Kind of like a spa treatment.
There is that odd chance, of course, that I’ll be fine today, and that a biopsy isn’t even needed. That’s my hope.
At first, he adamantly cried, “No way.” No way was he going to join some dorky “dance club,” show up wearing a tie in front of his peers, and EVEN worse, be forced to dance with members of the opposite sex, in front of his peers.
Dance Club is a long-standing tradition at our Middle School here. Every Wednesday, for five nights, there is a dress code, strict guidelines, and a professional dance instructor to guide awkward teenagers through the basics of dance etiquette and of course, the steps. (I don’t think this will include the Rumba, but I’m not absolutely sure about that.) The session runs right through the Valentine’s Day Season, with the finale culminating as, “70s Night,” complete with Leisure Suits.
As I read through the invitation and guidelines, I thought back to my own first 7th grade dances, which really did take place during the 70s. Elephant-ears were the classification for bell-bottom jeans that were REALLY wide. I worse those, with a pink pullover. I also remember standing along the wall, waiting, and feeling very sad. My sweetheart crush never did ask me to the dance floor. It’s probably just as well; I probably would have stepped on his toes. At my school, our dances came without instruction.
This could be the chance to save my son from a similar fate. While he protested, I calmly pulled my parent card and said:
“You’re not quite old enough yet to know what’s best for you. You’re joining dance club. Just think of it as a vaccine — they hurt at first, but in the long run, you’re better off having the shot.”
Truth be told, I think he was relieved that I had made the decision for him. When asked, he could easily say to his friends, “Yeah, my Mom is MAKING me do it.” And of course, most of his friends echoed the same fate, “Mom is FORCING me to take it.” Because, honestly, they know there is no other way to master this timeless mating ritual. Better to leave it to the professionals. Still, the boys were all nervous, and dreading the whole thing… “what will happen?” Dreading the unknown is our worst fear in the human race.
Other parents let the kids lead; when they balked about dance club, the parents said, “OK, you don’t have to go.” Still, with fewer boys than girls joining, I felt it my civic duty to make sure my able-bodied male was there to contribute to the dwindling lower numbers. Otherwise, some of the girls would have to dance with chairs, or something like that.
The first night wasn’t so bad. He came home with a slight grin, relieved that the unknown was now known, and it wasn’t the big, dark, scary thing after all. But no details, no comments were offered.
The second night there was ice and now, and the class was canceled. (Not school, mind you… just no dance club.)
Later, we learned that dance club has no makeups when the class is canceled due to weather. That class, and those steps, are gone. So, I’m worrying. When and how will they ever learn those missing dance steps? Will they wind up stuck in a bar somewhere, standing in the middle of a line dance, unable to move because they don’t know the next step?
“There’s that class of 2014 again. They never did get to make up that missing dance class, and they get stuck out here every single time.”
I know this is a sad day for you as you are, no doubt, feeling lost without your little shadow, that endearing little Batman, at your heels. Yes, this is the inevitable beginning of continuous separation between you and that little man who charms you so effortless; like every time he breathes.
However, I know this may come as little consolation right now; but I’m here to gently remind you, that while you were in the thick of things, with little ones around you all the time, your life was basically a disorganized, chaotic train wreck. Sorry to be so blunt, but it was.
All day long, you constantly shoved chores and jobs aside, waiting for bedtime, so that you could complete a simple task without interruption, without a an eager “helper”, or to end up distracted away from the job to clean up one spill or another, only to have the job sit unfinished for another couple of days. With voices running through your head all day long, you found it difficult to even think straight. Eventually, this led you to an incredibly long to-do list, for you to start at 9 p.m., that looked like this:
Yet, bedtime called, as you could barely hold your eyes open. Somehow you preserved and accomplished about two things on your above list. You woke to face the next day, after your kids were already awake, of course, adding yesterday’s to-dos to today’s to-dos. You were completely overwhelmed.
Now, he’s in his half-day kindergarten, and you have an entire 3 hours to yourself…everyday. You can do those very tasks you’ve been putting off for so many years now. Plus, you’ll have a dramatic reduction in the number of messes you clean up each day. What more could you want?!
Now, tell me, why are you still crying?
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