Happiness Is…

Written October 14, 2013.

Some days, my cup is half empty. All I see are messes, everything grates on my nerves, and I just wish it was bedtime.

It’s those times when I wistfully remember the simplicity of life before kids and daydream about that far off future when we have the freedom of being empty nesters, of days when kids aren’t constantly pulling on my arm yelling “Mom!”.

But the truth is, happiness isn’t when a long off “finally” day arrives. Happiness doesn’t come when everything is finally perfect, because perfect doesn’t exist.

Happiness is the million little things that happen every single day. This is happiness for me, last Sunday:

Happiness is…

-Waking up to a window view of sun shining on orange leaves fluttering in the wind.

-Happiness is kids that dress themselves without being asked a second time.

-A hug and an “I love you, Mom” after helping my four-year-old with his shoes.

-Getting ready to yell at him for messing around on the way out the door, but stopping in my tracks when he says, “I’m looking for my little Bible book.”

-Happiness is hearing your two-year-old chatting on and on with the ladies at church about her sparkly red shoes and plans to be Elmo for Halloween.

-Happiness is starving after a long morning at church, and heading to Grandma’s house where brunch is all ready and waiting when we arrive.

-Happiness is bacon.

-Happiness is a warm cup of tea and a few handfuls peanut M&Ms.

-Happiness is laying down on a soft bed with a tired toddler who needs a nap. Happiness is taking a Sunday nap of my own, too.

-Happiness is a little boy who rediscovered his special collection of linked key chains that had been lost at grandma’s for a week.

-Happiness is when he figures out how to hook a key chain to his belt loop, and repeatedly tells me the rest of the day, “Look, Mom, I haven’t lost my chains because I hooked it on!”

-Happiness is getting out of the house for a walk to the city park with my family.

-Happiness is my little boy pedaling his trike through dry leaves on the way.

Happiness is riding your tricycle through the crunchy dried leaves.

Happiness is riding your tricycle through the crunchy dried leaves.

-Happiness is the sound of crunching leaves that remind me of Coach Arnold and the cross country season back in high school.

-Happiness running into a group of boys at the park that seemed like they came right out of Mayberry: holding nets and pails, wading in the creek to catch crayfish.

-Happiness is hearing the boys describe how they will use the crayfish as bait for trapping season later on.

-Happiness is seeing kids that know how to play outside in a creek.

-Happiness is remembering catching a crayfish as a kid with my brother Mike down at Black Bill’s cabin on the North Branch of the Whitewater River.

-Happiness is hearing about childhood crayfish boils from my Tennessee-born sister-in-law.

And, happiness is…

-Cousins making a train while sliding down the slide.

-Two six-year-old cousins making a secret world under the lilac bush at the park.

-A two-year-old yelling “Hi!” under the highway bridge walking home from the park, and then saying “it echoes.”

-An afternoon of blue sky, sunshine, and crisp fall air.

-The rustling sound wind blowing through the dry leaves of a corn field.

-Watching my adult brother ride a little girl’s bike to the park because that’s what’s in Grandma’s garage, and why not.

-Watching my husband take a turn on the little girl’s bike on the ride back from the park.

Happiness is a husband who will happily ride a little pink bike home from a Sunday afternoon at the city park.

-Watching cool kids stare in disbelief and teenage disgust at the man riding a girl’s bike.

-A mountain of mini pumpkin gourds shared from my sister’s garden.

-Laughter from hearing another sister ate one of the gourds last year.

-Happiness is eating chicken and gravy and cream puff dessert made by my mom.

-Two-year-old and three-year-old cousins having a discussion at suppertime. “I’m three.” “You too little to ride bus.”

-Happiness is seeing my younger brother rediscover his long-lost RC airplane.

-Happiness is reading a book, and then hearing “read it again, Mom.”

-Seeing my 2nd grader absorbed in the Fleet Farm Toyland catalog. And happiness is being grown up enough to resist the urge to snatch the catalog and look at it myself.

-Happiness is remembering the smell of ink and paper of the Sears Christmas catalogs as a kid.

-My seven-year-old daughter’s giggle of delight at bedtime realizing the upcoming week of school is just three days long.

-My two-year-old girl’s delight at catching a lady bug and watching it crawl across her hand (even though she wasn’t brushing her teeth like I asked).

-Happiness is that same little girl darting across the hallway to yell “Mom, we need more ‘washcoffs’ ” while standing with no clothes on and holding a glass vase with a lady bug inside.

-Happiness is my six-year-old son at bedtime saying “I just can’t ever hug you enough, Mom.”

-Happiness is stumbling across family videos after the kids went to bed.

-Happiness is watching those videos and feeling thankful that we no longer have melted carpet from a curious toddler with an iron.

Advertisements

Pie and Two-Year-Olds: Yes, You Can

Today, I made pie with my two-year-old. Martha Stewart would probably not approve of the non-exact nature of our baking. We stopped mixing crust because my daughter needed to set a cricket trap by the refrigerator.

Smiling at her very first little pie.  Seconds later she poked her finger in the big pie and stacked her little pie on top like a pyramid.

Smiling at her very first little pie. Seconds later she poked her finger in the big pie and stacked her little pie on top like a pyramid.

I have a love/hate relationship with Martha Stewart. My new favorite guilty pleasure is watching Martha Stewart Bakes on PBS in the evening after the kids are in bed and the dishes are (usually) done. I watch with a little bit of reverence and a little bit of disgust.

The woman truly is undeniably talented, and undeniably pretentious. For me, one of the highlights of watching the show is listening for new pretentious names she uses for common objects and ingredients.

Just last night, she used her “pastry cutter” to cut some dough into a circle. Now, I don’t think Martha would appreciate this, but her so-called pastry cutter looks exactly like what average people refer to as a pizza cutter.

I understand that “pizza cutter” conjures up images of some guy with a beer belly throwing a frozen pizza in the oven and watching a little football. And of course, that association is unacceptable when one is doing serious baking. Wanting to be like Martha, the next time I need to cut up a pizza, I’m going to call out from the kitchen in very crisply pronounced words, “Has anyone seen my pastry cutter?”

When I receive confused looks, I will count that as a success. One step closer to Martha.

And in some ways, Martha has even outdone herself. In years past on her cooking shows, I recall her referring to “confectioners’ sugar.” That name, apparently, has become far too commonplace. I notice that she now uses a product called “10X sugar.” Oh, Martha. We all know it’s just plain old powdered sugar.

I just keep waiting for her to find a new name for eggs.

On the positive side, watching Martha does inspire me to bake. My approach, though, is often decidedly un-Martha Stewart, because I welcome kids, and by extension, chaos into the mix.

With fall in the air, I felt the need to bust out the pumpkin pie again. This is a recipe that’s simple enough that you can employ a two-year-old to do much of the work. In fact, I do.

There are few things more satisfying to a child or a parent than letting someone little take part in a real job. When you eat a pie, and the tiniest person at the table says, “I made it,” there really is no greater pride than that.

For pumpkin pie filling, I use my mom’s time-honored recipe. It’s actually quite famous. You will find my mom’s recipe printed on the back of every single can of pumpkin, so I won’t reprint it here.

The recipe I want to share is for pie crust. Crust is the hard part of pies. It’s the part that usually makes people nervous enough to head to the freezer section and buy something in a box that comes from a little dough boy in a baker’s hat.

Homemade crust, though, tastes so much better. This crust is easy. No rolling pin required.

I originally found this recipe on the internet. When 178 people give this recipe give this a recipe a very good rating, I count it as a pretty safe bet.

No Roll Pie Crust

1 1/2 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup ice water
1/2 cup oil

Directions: Mix all ingredients together in a bowl. Place dough in the pie pan, and press it out evenly with your fingers. Fill with favorite pie filling and bake. Makes one pie crust.

Here’s a measurement of the easiness: About two years ago, when my oldest child was five and the youngest was a baby less than a year old, I made this with my kids AND two of my sister-in-law’s children, ages four and two. That’s right, six kids ages five and under helped make a pie for a bedtime snack. Granted, it was a little chaotic, but it was doable. They all helped pat the crust in place.

Six kids ages five and under helped me bake a pie for a bedtime snack.

Six kids ages five and under helped me bake a pie for a bedtime snack.

Today, I made pie with my two-year-old. Martha Stewart would probably not approve of the non-exact nature of our baking.

We stopped mixing crust because my daughter needed to set a cricket trap by the refrigerator, “I need to catch him. I’ll be very nice to him, Mom.”

She also tested the texture of the crust by wrapping some on her arm. I have not yet seen that technique on cooking shows, but I’m not Martha, so I may be mistaken.

Concentrating on mixing up the pie crust.

Concentrating on mixing up the pie crust.

I let my daughter shape her own pie in a tiny toy pie pan. She added crumbled popcorn and sugar powder from a pixie stick to the crust. I also noticed she added almonds and cashews to the pumpkin filling while I wasn’t looking. I’ve got a real innovator, one with pumpkin pie filling all over her mouth.

We didn’t bother with trying to emulate Martha’s perfectly fluted crust edges. Neat and orderly also went aside with a flour explosion on the table and little fingers dipped in pie filling.

In the end, imperfect crust still tastes good. Germs will bake away at 350 degrees, and happiness and accomplishment from making a pie is long lasting. That’s why I do my baking with a two-year-old.

Beware the Purple Footprints

I knew it wasn’t good when the first thing I saw was a purple footprint on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. I followed the purple footprint trail to the bathroom, where I could hear running water…

On the first day of school, I sent a ready and fairly willing first grader and second grader off on the bus. When the bus pulled away, my four-year-old son went peacefully back to watching Sesame Street. Meanwhile, my two-year-old daughter still slept upstairs.

7:15 AM: First day of school, two kids ready for a great new start to the year, heading off to 2nd grade and 1st grade.

7:15 AM: First day of school, two kids ready for a great new start to the year, heading off to 2nd grade and 1st grade.

It was so quiet.

My husband and I had a cup of coffee at the table and grinned at the silence. By the time we finished our coffee, my daughter woke up and wandered downstairs. Once she had something to eat, I headed upstairs to get the shower I’d been meaning to take since 6 AM.

I left my two kids happily watching Elmo and Big Bird, which generally means they are fully engrossed for at least long enough for me to take a shower.

In the shower, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. After a long summer, the new school year felt like a fresh start. It’s been five years since I taught in a school, but every beginning of the school year still gives me that excited feeling of fresh beginnings, learning, and new activity.

Standing in the warm water, I pondered a more peaceful existence and a more organized routine. I thought of fall coming, and cozying up to Friday movie nights and Saturday night pot roasts in the dining room. And feeling a little breathing room, I let my head roam to all of the projects I might get done this fall. In the short time since the bus pulled away, I already felt refreshed and ready to take on the world.

I should have known better.

It seems that my two-year-old had far too many creative juices flowing to just sit and idly watch television.

Soon after I stepped out of the shower, my four-year-old came in, casually telling me that his little sister was painting downstairs. Uh oh. I asked, “What’s she painting?” He shrugged his shoulders and wandered off. I don’t know if he wasn’t sure, or if he was too busy to answer, but either way, it didn’t ease my fears.

Still wrapped in a towel, I headed downstairs to inspect. I knew it wasn’t good when the first thing I saw was a purple footprint on the floor at the bottom of the stairs.

I followed the purple footprint trail to the bathroom, where I could hear running water. In the bathroom, purple hand and footprints covered the toilet and went up across the bathroom counter.

The trail ended with a two-year-old, wearing fleece pajama pants while sitting in a sink. Water filled to the brim and sloshed over the sides as the faucet continued to flood still more water into the sink. My daughter sported a shirtless purple tummy as she diligently scrubbed purple feet with her purple hands.

8:30 AM: Painted toilet. Not exactly what I had in mind for a great start to a new school year.

8:30 AM: Painted toilet. Not exactly what I had in mind for a great start.

This was not quite how I envisioned my peaceful school year.

I cleaned off my artist, the toilet, and sink.

Then heading into the toy room, I discovered her primary “canvas,” our Hoosier cabinet. On the white cabinet door I found an impressive abstract finger painting in purple, pink, and green. It looked like the sort of thing someone young and industrious might accomplish in, oh, the length of time of a shower (once they climbed the cabinet and retrieved the paint from a high shelf).

I also discovered she used some of the “good” paint that doesn’t easily wipe off. Glittery purple paint apparently has an excellent pigment. When wiped with a damp rag, it “fades” to a neon fuchsia pink.

It’s episodes like this that make me think the universe has a little sense of humor. Just when I send two kids off to school and get a feeling like “Ah, life will be easy,” there is my two year-old, stepping up her game with a painting on the cabinet and purple footprints across the floor.

Granted, it could have been worse. It wasn’t ponds of chocolate syrup swirled all over the carpet. It also wasn’t an iron turned on and then left face down on the carpet until the smell of melting carpet fibers filled the house. No, it wasn’t as bad as other episodes I’ve seen with her older brother.

Looking on the bright side, the girl IS ambitious, and what a self-starter. While I showered, she engaged herself in experiential learning, used large motor and fine motor skills, studied the fine arts, and honed her problem solving skills.

Theoretically, that sort of learning activity is a teacher’s dream come true. But on the first day of school, when hopes are high for children’s future achievements, I just wish my daughter had a little less drive and creativity…at least while I’m trying to take a shower.