Channeling Mimi

I remember when my mom taught me how to cook. Every so often, she'd ask me to help her in the kitchen. The real goal of this invite was to teach me something. But she was sneaky enough not to phrase it that way. Maybe that's where I learned my early PR skills?

She taught me to cook spaghetti& homemade sauce. Cornbread. Chicken and dumplings. Clam chowder. Fried chicken. Mashed potatoes. Cornbread stuffing. Chocolate chip cookies. And lots of fresh vegetables. I really enjoyed working alongside her in the kitchen and learning how to make all my favorite dishes. Mom was very patient and would often tell me stories of the dishes she made that didn't quite come out right or what her favorite foods were growing up. 

So I tried to channel my mother yesterday when MiniMe and her lifelong friend asked if they could bake cookies. Dog cookies. Seems the girls went online and printed off a recipe for homemade dog treats. Ommmmm, Mimi-Mimi-Mimi, Ommmm, I chanted repeatedly in my head as off we went to the grocery store armed with the dog treat recipe. 

Whole wheat flour. Check. Yeast. Check. Overpriced plastic dog cookie container to present the final product in. Check. Wine for mommy. Check!

Once the girls started mixing the ingredients, and arguing over whose turn it was to stir and whose turn it was to measure, I reminded myself of how patient my mom had been when I spilled things, didn't measure correctly, etc. Ommmm, Mimi-Mimi-Mimi, Ommmm.

"Ok mom," said MiniMe. "We're ready to roll the dough. Where's the flat surface?"

Ummm, you're looking at it. It's the countertop. We need to spread some flour around and then roll the dough out on the countertop. 

Much excitement ensued as flour was flung far and wide and they only argued a little bit over my only rolling pin.

At this point, Beloved came home, took one look and whispered in my ear as he gave me a kiss, "You're a glutton for punishment."

3 hours (and two glasses of wine for mommy) later, we had trays and trays of dog treats. And after only two warnings, the girls eventually cleaned up the mess. Best of all, the dogs ate the treats with enthusiasm. 

Thanks Mimi for being a good example of patient life lessons in the kitchen. 

It's a Girl!

My sister is having a little girl! And if there was any doubt this long awaited only-child will be spoiled, consider that my sister and her wonderful hubby have already bought the girly some shoes. Not just one pair, either.

I don't know what Sissy is thinking about in terms of a name. She won't tell me. And everytime I suggest a name, she says "No that's a White Trash girl's name," or "I'm not naming her after a cartoon character!"

But what I do know, is that any little girl in our bloodline will probably be:

• stubborn
  
• sassy
  
• crazy funny
  
• witty & sarcastic
  
• creative
  
• hairy
  
• smart but math challenged
  
• a good eater
  
• a natural born shopper & shoe lover
  
• freckled
  
• skinny
  
• opinionated
  

and most of all . . . A Florida native!

Who knew?

Sometimes people surprise you. Not often, but it can happen.

That's the case with my stepson. He came home from his job as a beach lifeguard last night and was pretty excited. Seems he had met a girl "hotter than Florida" (his words not mine) and had gotten a date with her for last night. He was planning to take her to a movie and then "hang out." He paced around the house after dinner like a death row inmate on final watch. He was nervous. He double checked to make sure he had his wallet. Finally, the time arrived and off he went to get his date, admitting on the way out the door he felt like he might throw up.

Cute that a 6-ft tall, blonde, blue-eyed, handsome young man of 18 could be this nervous about a date with a girl he hardly knew.

An hour and a half later, he was back. Looking dejected. I thought maybe he'd been stood up. But no, that was not the case. Seems he picked up the lovely lady, but instead of a movie, she wanted to go to a party she'd heard about on the beach and spend the evening drinking, etc. Stepson decided that was not for him and if that was what she really wanted to do, he would take a pass.

So he spent the evening back at home playing video games with his sister. 

Stepson is very focused right now. He is in the midst of applying  to the coast guard. He knows in order to have a shot at his ultimate goal - rescue swimmer - he has to work hard, keep his nose clean and be the best he can be. He does this every day at work now as a lifeguard. Each day he sits on that tower watching his water, young ladies come by trying to get his attention. He even told us that last week a couple of girls came up and offered him a beer. When he told them he was underage, they said "that's ok, we are too." He brushed them aside with "I'm on duty."

This morning he had the day off. His dad wanted some yard work done, but he wanted to spend the day fishing with his buddy. So he got up at 7:30 a.m. and started on yard work so he could get it done early and then be off to fish. 

If God herself had told me a few years ago that this child would be so good natured, hard working, focused and positive, I wouldn't have believed it. Call me pleasantly surprised.

Summer Slavedriver!

Heh, heh, heh! The kids thought that summer was one great big junk food eating sleeping late being lazy slugs adventure. But I've rained on that parade.

Day 2 of Summer Vacation and I assigned chores!

That's right, you heard me. Chores! The chorus of moaning and groaning upon assignment of chores was enough to satisfy even the most evil of torture-mongers.

MiniMe was assigned one of my least favorite tasks - giving the dogs a bath. While I was out meeting with clients and running errands, the kids were left at home with the dreaded chore list. Imagine my surprise (but utter delight) upon returning home to find that the assigned chores had actually been completed. Well, almost.

It didn't take me long to suspect that MiniMe's dog washing attempt was simply that - an attempt. When I arrived home and the dogs greeted me they were wet. In a few places. But not everywhere. And they smelled, well, bad. And not that musty "wet dog" smell that comes with bathing a canine but eventually subsides and turns pleasant once they are dry . . .and CLEAN. 

Why should I be surprised? MiniMe has been known to show up with filthy, dirty feet after taking a shower. How can you take a shower and still have dirty feet?!?

Well, she apparently used this ancient Chinese secret soap strategy to wash the dogs. Somehow wetting them but not cleaning them. I suspect she either wiped them with a wet wipe or perhaps hit them with a few sprays of her water gun. Either way, these dogs are a long way from clean.

What I did on the first day of summer

My First Day of Summer by NativeMom

I couldn't believe it was finally here! The first day of summer. While the summer solstice might mark the official first day of summer, for me summer begins when school ends.

It was the first day of summer break from school. I slept 15 minutes later than usual (oh yeah!). I worked in my home office surrounded by the sounds of summer fun - every TV in the house was playing, kids were running up and down the stairs like a pack of mules, and there was the familiar splish splash and ear-shattering squeals coming from the patio where MiniMe and favorite stepdaughter were swimming. 

But it wasn't just the sounds of summer I welcomed. There were the smells of summer: the piquant scent of burnt microwave popcorn; the musty smell of wet towels strewn across the house; the delightful scent of some sort of chocolate chip cookie like substance emanating from my kitchen.

But the sights of summer, now that is something to cherish! The whimsical trail of chocolate goo spread across every kitchen surface. The modern-art like sculpture of every cup in the house half full of soda placed precariously on every stick of furniture. The puddles of pool water shimmering gently at every entrance of the house. Glitter, construction paper and open paint jars littering the dining room table. 

I decided a treat for me, the hard-working yet fun-loving NativeMom that I am, was in order to mark this first day of summer. So I signed up for the wine club membership at the nearest wine bar and package store. Now I can relax and drink in all this summer fun!

Soccer Mom of the Year

"You've got to talk me down off this soccer mom ledge!" 

It was the Voice of Reason calling and she didn't sound good. Seems her morning started with her daughter's ride to the soccer field bailing on her. Then they were running late. Next, her daughter couldn't find her soccer shoes. VOR hurriedly drops her daughter off with the coach and runs to the closest sporting goods store where she buys 3 pairs of soccer cleats in different sizes, not sure which size would fit. 

"Now I'm calling you as I'm racing down the highway trying to make it to the soccer field with the cleats in time or else the team will have to forfeit! I think I'm going over the edge!"

Soccer can do that. I know. Stepdaughter has been playing soccer since she was 4. Competitive soccer will make a normal family crazy. And will push a sane mom like my friend VOR inches away from Destination Nervous Breakdown.  

"I hope you got the right color soccer cleats." I said with an evil laugh.

"Very funny. If she even opens her mouth about the style of the soccer cleats, so help me god! I haven't even brushed my hair. I'm a mess."

"Don't worry, it's gonna rain on you anyway so no one will notice that your hair is not brushed."

VOR arrived in time. One of the pairs of soccer cleats actually fit. Her daughter wisely decided not to comment on the style or color choice. However, after a two hour rain delay (told you it would rain) the team lost. But VOR can now rightfully claim the Soccer Mom of the Year Award.

They do grow up

Stepson graduated and I feel like we ALL achieved a major family milestone this weekend. 

Can you remember your date's name after 72 years?

That was the question I was asking myself after my Mammaw shared her own prom memories with me yesterday.  MiniMe and I had dinner with Mammaw last night. She is 90-years young. I was showing her pictures of Stepson dressed to go to his prom last Saturday.

Mammaw went to her Senior High prom in 1937. That's her in the center of the photo, surrounded by her daughter, granddaughter and great-granddaughter. 

At first she couldn't remember the name of her date, although as she recalled, "I had a corsage, so I must have had a date." I guess the flower left more of an impression than the boy. In 1937, her high school held prom for its seniors in the school's gymnasium. Before the dance, the teens all were served dinner in the school cafeteria (though they weren't served cafeteria style, but waited on by the school staff). Her mother made her dress, but then again, her mother made everything she and her sisters wore. Even their underwear, I learned.

Then, the name of her prom date came to her. 

"W.T. Owens. He was killed in the war," she said.

Which made me think. When I share memories, I recall the names of friends and past dates with the description, "I went to high school with her," or "we grew up together on the same street," or even "we met in college." 

Sadly, just about everyone my Mammaw ever knew, from past loves, to best friends, even most of her family is now gone. Her stories (which I love by the way), unfortunately come with caveats such as "he died in the war," or "she died from cancer." I guess that's what happens when you live to be 90-years young. 

As I drove home, I thought about how sharp my Mammaw is and what an interesting life she has led. I don't know that 70 plus years from now I will remember the name of my Senior Prom date. 

Cruisin' Chicks

MiniMe and I really enjoyed our week of cruising together. How proud am I of my little cruisin' chick? She was an excellent travel companion. She displayed great manners, got along well with our traveling companions, made new friends, budgeted her spending cash wisely, and was an absolute delight to spend the week with. Great mommy-daughter time!

How lucky am I to have such a wonderful daughter? How fortunate am I, especially in this economy, to have the opportunity to travel with my girl? The trip made me very thankful for my great family, friends and my life in general.  I highly reco

mmend stopping to smell the flowers every once in a while. 

Just a few highlights:

Free ice cream . . . for breakfast!

"Vegetarian" Pina Coladas

Towel animals waiting for our return to the room each evening. (though not that creepy monkey towel animal, ewww)

Learning to do magic card tricks 

Free ice cream . . .for lunch!

An iceskating show . . . at sea

Dinner with our great wait staff Dragos & Gilberto, who make napkins more fun each night

Coming out winners at the arcade and the casino

Free ice cream . . . for dinner!

Collecting shells in Belize . . unbelizeable!

Swimming & snorkeling in Cozumel

Picking fresh herbs in the Mayan garden

The wave pool

Checkers and treats in the late night Cosmo Lounge

Exploring 15 decks of cruising fun 

What is Social Security?

For your amusement (and education), the following is a transcript of my conversation with MiniMe today as we sat outside Dairy Queen in the local strip mall, enjoying an ice cream treat.

MiniMe: There sure are a lot of old ladies shopping here today.

NativeMom: Yes there are and one day I hope to be one of them.

MiniMe: You want to be old?

NativeMom: I hope I make it to "old," besides, I'm looking forward to retiring one day. See those ladies (as I point to two very well dressed mature ladies carrying their shopping bags, walking along, laughing and talking)? One day I want that to be me. I'll spend a lovely sunny afternoon out shopping with my girlfriend when I'm retired.

MiniMe: But Mom, how can they shop if they don't work anymore? Where do they get the money to buy stuff?

NativeMom: Well, they work hard all their lives and at a certain age, they've saved money and invested and they have enough to live on so they don't have to work anymore. Also, there's social security, not that I'll ever get social security, but some retired people these days get social security each month.

MiniMe: What's social security?

NativeMom: You've never heard of social security? Well, it's (MiniMe interrupts)

MiniMe: Wait, wait, don't tell me!! I think I  know what social security is. It's when you don't work anymore but you still get money anyway. You get paid for doing nothing.

NativeMom: Well, not exactly . . . 

The Grandparent Factor

"I was thinking of Mimi." 

That's what MiniMe said when I woke her up for school this morning. She can't wait! She's so excited because Mimi is picking her up from school today so she can spend the weekend with her. (That's SuperMimi, MiniMe and Pappaw disguised as Spongebob in the photo above) I'm not sure who is more excited, MiniMe, SuperMimi or me, NativeMom, who gets a Friday night to herself. Let's just put it this way, we're all happy it is Friday.

Grandparents are wonderful. Unfortunately, in today's transient society, too few kids grow up with their grandparents in their life. My friend Maria and I were talking about the priceless value of having your children grow up with caring, involved grandparents in their life. Maria and her husband moved from Tallahassee years ago to start their own business. They moved to this area to open a business for one simple reason - the grandparents lived here. Now Maria's business is thriving and her boys see both sets of grandparents every week as one or the other picks them up from school each afternoon. Maria said something that I could really appreciate this week. She said "Even if my business failed, I would get a job doing anything here, serving fast food even, just to make sure my kids got to stay here and grow up with their grandparents as such a big part of their lives."

I totally agree! Would you like fries with that?

Do I really have to do this?

Facebook. I joined under immense peer pressure. But I don't like it. No, I take that back. I hate it. Especially when I saw this morning that my stepson had posted new photos on his facebook page. He's enjoying spring break. Need I say more?

This is stuff that parents were just not meant to see. Why in the world do you "friend" your parents anyway? I mean I didn't "friend" him! Why did he have to "friend" me? 

Boundaries. We need boundaries people! Boundaries are good. 

Painting Memories

Charming Cousin and I were hanging out recently. I call him Charming Cousin because everyone loves him. He's charming. Anyway, we were reminiscing about childhood moments when a funny one came up that I hadn't thought about in years. 

My great-grandparents lived in Jacksonville in this tiny, two-bedroom wood-frame house. The house was small, but the yard was big and in it, my great grandparents grew vegetables year-round. (Now Florida is full of zero-lot line neighborhoods where you're lucky to have room for an azalea bush). They were hard-working people. 

My great-grandfather had an old Ford truck. I asked Charming Cousin if he remembered the time granddaddy gave the truck a new coat of paint - with a paintbrush. 

Charming Cousin reminded me that granddaddy had painted that truck several times. 

"The last weekend I spent with great-grandma before she died, she told me 'We're gonna need your help this summer. We've got to paint the truck and white-wash the house,'" recalls Charming Cousin. "I don't even know what white-washing is. But I do remember grandma and granddaddy painting that truck with a paint roller. They used Benjamin Moore house paint. If that truck was still around today, there wouldn't be a speck of rust on it. Nothing was getting through the 8 layers of house paint on that truck."

Adult Child of Dog Lover

I heard a great story on NPR a few weeks ago. It was a piece by Emily Yoffe of Slate.com in which she discusses the difficulty of being an ACDL, the Adult Child of a Dog Lover. It can be hard when you grow up and realize that your parents have replaced you with a dog, or two.

Meet SuperMimi's dogs, whom I'll call Good Boy and SpitThatOut, which the dogs assume are their actual names since she constantly says "good boy" to the male yorkie and is most likely heard screaming "spit that out" to the female.  

Thanks to Good Boy and SpitThatOut, and the number of cute yorkies that came before them, I could identify with being an ACDL. There was a lot in the NPR piece that sounded familiar. Like when you grow up and come back home to visit your mom and dad and see that dad will spend hours throwing the ball in the yard for the dog, but, you realize, he never threw the ball in the yard with you as a kid. Or that your mom, who can be so astute at pointing out her adult children's shortcomings, thinks the dog who jumps all over you, pees on the floor and tries to eat off your plate is perfect. 

So a few weeks ago, I was visiting SuperMimi (and of course Good Boy and SpitThatOut) when my mom pointed out that I was becoming more and more like her everyday. But not in a good way. 

"You know, I'll never forget, when you were a teenager and we would be fighting, one of your favorite things to say is 'I'll never be like my mother!' Now look at you,  you're becoming more and more like me every day," she says as she grins evily. "You've got kids and two dogs that you dote on just like me."

I admit, I was not the easiest teenager to live with. And yes, I'm sure I spat out the phrase "I'm never going to be like you" to my mother at least a dozen times back then. And guess what. She remembers. Every. Time. I said it. And. Reminds me. Often. In front. Of others. 

Today, I not only sound like my mom and resemble her physically, I work from home in my own business, just like her. And I love dogs. Just like her. 

So if you're the adult child of a dog obsessed individual, take a listen to Emily's piece on NPR. It's like therapy, only free. 

A star is born

He did it! Beloved made me a cake and it was . . . .great! As soon as I find my USB cord I'll upload a photo of the golden masterpiece.

Thanks to all of you who sent Happy Birthday greetings my way. The rest of you suck. I mean it's not everyday a girl turns 29 

For the 12th time. 

Am I raising White Trash?

Oldest stepson came home from college for a visit this weekend. While home, he went out with some friends and the next morning, he's got a hickey on his neck. Ewwww. The sight of it made me throw up in my mouth a little, especially after I found out who'd planted it there. 

Beloved: What's that!

OldestStepson: Nothing.

Beloved: That's a hickey! Why do you have a hickey? Who gave you that hickey?

OldestStepson: It was ******* (AKA  FormerPsychoGirlfriendWhomWeDoNotLikeAndHadHopedSheWasGoneforGood). 

Beloved: When did you see (gulp) her? (AKA FormerPsychoGirlfriendWhomWeDoNotLikeAndHadHopedSheWasGoneforGood)

OldestStepson: I was just hanging out with a group of friends last night and she was there.

Beloved: And how did she go from being there to that thing on your neck?

OldestStepson: She was just playing around, trying to tease me. 

NativeMom: A hickey! Who gives hickeys? Were you and your friends just hanging out at the trailer park drinking Boonesfarm and sharing stories from the "good old days" of high school before the kids came along and then you graduated? Saturday night at the trailer park, the illegitimate kids running around barefoot playing with the dogs in the dirt under the trailer with some Sweet Home Alabama coming from the truck parked with the door cocked open nearby? 

OldestStepson: What? What are you talking about? 

NativeMom: Do I look like I'm raising White Trash around here?!? 

OldestStepson: You're weird. 

Today is my B-Day

In honor of my birthday today, Beloved and MiniMe are going to make me a cake. Not just any cake, my favorite cake. Pineapple upside down cake. I am grateful and I am micro-managing. Here's why.

I caught a glimpse of the website Beloved was visiting this morning and it stopped me in my tracks. It was a Betty Crocker website. 

NativeMom: What are you doing.

Beloved: Looking for something.

NativeMom: What are you looking for on a recipe website?

Beloved: It's a surprise, you're not supposed to ask questions.

NativeMom (with delight and a little concern): Are you planning to cook dinner for me as a surprise tonight? 

Beloved: Maybe. 

NativeMom: What are you going to make? It doesn't have to be fancy. I like spaghetti. 

Beloved: MiniMe and I are going to make dinner and a cake. 

NativeMom: A cake? Can you get one of those yummy Publix cakes since it's my birthday. I know the kids like ice cream cake, but I prefer the real kind of cake. 

Beloved: No, we're making you a cake.

Now I was confused and a little nervous. 

NativeMom: Why? I like the Publix cake. 

Beloved: MiniMe and I are going to make your favorite cake. Pineapple upside down cake. 

Now, I know it may be a little strange, but my favorite cake is pineapple upside down cake. Not just any pineapple upside down cake, the kind my mom makes. She's made it for my birthday, special, just for me, for years. No one else's pineapple upside down cake compares. And here's Beloved looking for a recipe for pineapple upside down cake online, when SuperMimi is just a phone call away and she holds THE only recipe for my favorite cake.

NativeMom: Why don't you just call Mimi, she can give you a recipe. 

Beloved: Well, I checked the Paula Deen cookbook you have, but her recipe was too complicated. It was for a cake made from . . .sigh . . .scratch. But Betty Crocker has recipes online using their box mixes.

NativeMom: But Mimi's recipe uses a box mix. Why don't you call her. She'll give you the recipe. 

Beloved: That's ok, I've got one here on the website that seems pretty simple.

Simple, maybe, but it's not gonna be MY favorite cake. Might as well buy a cake. So, do I push or do I just let it go?

NativeMom: You know, I bet MiniMe would get a kick out of calling Mimi and asking for her recipe. MiniMe could write it down and everything. That way, MiniMe can show off that she's doing something special for her mom today and Mimi can show off that she has the best recipe. A win-win.

Beloved: Sigh. 

OK. Maybe I just need to nudge a little harder. 

NativeMom: Mimi uses crushed pineapple for her cake. That's what makes all the difference. It's much better than recipes with pineapple rings. 

Beloved is now printing the recipe he found online. I'm getting a bad feeling about this.

NativeMom: I think it's great that you're going to all this trouble to make me a cake for my birthday. You don't have to do this you know. 

Beloved: Hey MiniMe, I need you to make a phone call . . . 

NativeMom: Thanks!

Beloved: This was supposed to be a surprise, you know.

NativeMom: Well, just because I asked, you didn't have to tell me you were planning to make a cake.

Beloved: Sigh. 

Raising A Florida Native

I sometimes beat myself up for not being a better mom. But then again what parent doesn't think from time to time "Am I doing this right?" Only with me, somedays I wonder, "Hmmm, is this gonna come up one day with MiniMe and her therapist?"  

Sure, I want to provide the best for her. A good education. Lots of love and attention. Help with figuring out the big, bad world. I'm pretty good at the talking stuff. We discuss just about everything. She comes to me with her problems. I (sometimes) manage to make everything all better. 

But I realized today that I've been lacking in one important area of her child-rearing lately. That is raising a Florida native and teaching her all the things that make growing up in Florida a one-of-a-kind experience. I think I have FloridaCracker to thank for this recent insecurity. After reading his blog about teaching his students about shrimp, I realized I had not taught my daughter one of the basics of Florida native living - catching, cleaning and cooking shrimp. 

In fact, MiniMe doesn't like shrimp. I'm pretty sure that will change as her elementary-school-age palate matures. But I realize on this shrimp thing, I'm gonna have to get some help. 

First there's the catching shrimp part. I can't throw a cast net. And I don't do well on boats (seasickness). So looks like this is gonna require the help of SuperMimi. She may be 5 foot 2, with itty bitty stick-like arms and elbows sharp as razors, but she can handle a cast net with the best of 'em. In fact, of everyone in our family, my mom, SuperMimi, is the best fisherman (fisherwoman? fisherperson?) by far. 

I do know how to clean shrimp (yep, I'm good at this and learned it from SuperMimi when I was about MiniMe's age). I can even cook them several different ways. So I've got that part covered. 

I guess it's a good thing that SuperMimi announced her retirement recently. Maybe she'll have time to give MiniMe (and possibly me, NativeMom) a cast-net lesson. 

Perfection Doesn't Make Memories

At this busy time of year I think it is important to remember that it is not perfection that makes lasting memories, but mistakes. Some of my family's most cherished holiday memories are built on the "oops, that's not exactly how I had planned it." So if you're suffering from the pressure to get everything done right and on time, relax, kick back and stop trying to make everything perfect. No one remembers perfect!

For instance . . .

One of my family's most talked about holiday memories is the time my dad decided to surprise us and bring home a fresh cut Christmas tree. I know, sounds innocent enough. My dad had picked out what he thought was the perfect tree. Only it was planted firmly in the median of US1 between Jacksonville and St. Augustine, his daily route to and from work.

"Oh my god!" I hear my mother exclaim as a commotion ensues outside the back door one December evening after dark. There's Dad standing there, his clothes a mess, scrapes on his hands and arms, with a great big grin on his face, dragging a scraggly green tree with broken limbs covered in dirt. "What have you done!" exclaims Mom.

Dad proudly states "I got us a Christmas tree" as he pushes past mom dragging the sad little tree inside the house leaving a trail of dirt and branches in his wake. My sister and I scamper around excitedly, happily taking directions from Dad in helping him set the tree up in the living room.

For weeks Dad had his eye on this little tree as he passed it each day on his ride to work. One day he takes along his ax and some rope and, on his way home, he pulls his old blue station wagon off the side of the road. He grabs his ax and rope, sprints across two lanes of oncoming traffic on US1 in the dark and proceeds to "steal" the perfect Christmas tree. The tree comes down easily as it is not as big up close as it looked from the road when he was zooming by at 70 mph. And here's where it gets a little tricky. Now he has to drag the tree back across two lanes of oncoming traffic in the dark. Mind you, it is rush hour.

He sees a break and goes for it. Only as he runs across the road, he trips and falls on top of the tree in the middle of US1. Miraculously he makes it across and manages to wrestle the tree into the station wagon and deliver it home, proudly to his family.

"You could have been killed!" my mother says with a horrified look on her face as Dad sets up this half-crushed tree in our living room. "It's got a bird's nest in it."

"Cool! Let me see! Where is it!" My sister and I exclaim as we dance excitedly around the dirty broken tree.

It was the "Charlie Brown Christmas Tree" come to life in our living room. It was pathetic. But it is the tree I remember most from all Christmases of my youth.

Weekend of Giving

The stars have aligned in such a way that my to-do list for this weekend is nearly taken over with good deeds. Today, Friday, I'm dropping off clothing, toys and shoes at two different locations. Adult clothing for women headed into the workforce and kids clothing and shoes at Goodwill. This evening I'll be taking MiniMe to dinner at MickeyD's where she can use her "Terrific Kid" certificate to get a free happy meal. Each week, every class at school singles out one student as "Terrific Kid" for things like hard work, kindness, friendship, good manners, etc. Last Friday, MiniMe was Terrific Kid for her class. Job well done MiniMe! Thanks MickeyD's!

Saturday Easter Seals dominates my to-do list. First we'll be dropping in on a little event called Abilities Expo. It's a day-long program with vendors, exhibits, seminars and workshops for people with disabilities. Then it's off to Barnes & Noble which is holding a book fair to benefit Easter Seals.

After lunch we'll be doing some shopping for items to fill the holiday boxes that MiniMe's girl scout troop is working on come Monday. Each year, the girl scouts gather shoe boxes and fill them with items for local migrant families. The boxes hold toiletries, small toys, school supplies, socks, and other needed items for children. The girls even giftwrap the boxes to make them more festive.

And finally, we'll be picking up some extra canned goods at the grocery store Sunday evening. The girl scouts are collecting canned goods at next weekend's bonfire event and we'll be dropping a few canned goods in the humane society's drop box to feed the dogs while they are waiting for a home.

The best part about this weekend? I get to bring MiniMe and SuperMimi along with me as we work on the to-do list. Not only is it personally important to me to give back to my community, it's even more important to model volunteerism and charity for my children. It's going to be a great weekend!