Mother's Day

I got to celebrate Mother's Day for almost a whole week this year. Before my parents left, I took my mom and Brinley to the salon for a mani/pedi.

It was the first manicure for my mom. Our three generational outing was so much fun.

We laughed, we cried, we grew closer and celebrated each other.

____________________________________

Blaine and the kids gave me a beuatiful watch Sunday afternoon.

____________________________________

Mother's Day is not necessarily on Sunday in Guatemala.

The first year here, it was on a Thursday.

I had no idea.

This year it landed on Sunday and so the annual Mother's Tea at school was Monday afternoon.

I had three to go to. At the same time.

With a little time management, we hit all of them.

______________________________________

Brinley was first. We had a brunch with food the kids made all by themselves, complete with place mats and paper flowers with her picture. She gave me a book she filled out. These glimpses into the mind of my children are so meaningful to me. (Even if they are so far from the truth.)

My Mom:

My mom's favorite place to go is...a restaurant for lunch.

My mom's favorite thing to do is...play with me.

My mom's favorite food to eat is...tortillas.

My mom loves me because...I take care of Luke.

My mom's favorite person is...me!

My mom's favorite color is...all the colors.

I love my mom because...she likes me.

I love you, Brinley

____________________________________

Kierstin's class gave all of the mothers massages.

They had practiced hand and neck massages the previous week and gave me a great few minutes of relaxation.

_______________________________________

Brice's class gave the mothers a book of poems they had written. I had two favorites.

Alliteration

Mom makes many mini muffins.
Super, smiley, smart mom.

Enthusiastic empty esophagus curer.

Cooks cakes, and candy for kids.

Lani loves little loving children.

I loved his "empty esophagus curer." He said that means I make good food. And he constantly looks for ways to use my first name (Lani) because he thinks it bothers me. It doesn't.

ABC Poem

A woman was lying down at the hospital

But she wasn't sick at all.

Could this be her lucky day?

Deep down inside her is where I used to lay.

Everyone was happy when I was

Found on her lap.

"Goo Goo Gaa Gaa," is what I said.

"His name is Brice," she said right away.

"It sounds wonderful," my dad would say.

Just ten months later I learned to walk.

Kindly she raised me very

Lovingly,

Mom

Grandma and Grandpa

While we were in Italy, Grandma and Grandpa Douglas stayed with the kids. They (the kids) had so much fun. Laura cooked with them, died Easter eggs,
read lots of books, made clay sculptures, and spoiled them rotten. All of this during Spring Break and before grandpa arrived.

When they were both in town they had the kids ready for school early everyday, took Luke to the park every day, went shopping, watched Brice play basketball, took them to church,
toured the school three times, made forts, I heard through the grapevine they took a few naps, went swimming, watched the garbage trucks,
and again, spoiled them rotten.

I am so thankful they were willing to come visit and watch the kids while we were away. The kids were in great hands.

A slice of Humble Pie

I am a good cook. My mom taught me to cook and you know what they say when you learn from the best...actually I don't know what they say but let me assure you, I am pretty darn good.

A lot of my self esteem is wrapped up in this. Sometimes it is hard for me to think I am a good mother or creative or organized; all things I strive for. But I do know that I can feed my family well. I show my family I love them through food. I think that is something else I learned from my mother.

About four years ago we celebrated Thanksgiving with my family and my mom let me make all the pie crusts. It was a right of passage for me. She was letting me take the reigns. No one else has ever been given that much trust.
________________________________________________
A few months ago some friends of ours invited us over for dinner. They served us a wonderful meal and even made homemade apple pie for dessert. Blaine loved the apple pie. He said so. In fact, he said so about five times while he was licking his plate clean. (My plate did not get licked clean, no where near. But Blaine would have offered to lick it clean.) He even comented about how much he liked her pie as we were leaving their house to which she(Mrs. Apple) obliviously, sweetly but obliviously, offered to teach me how to make her apple pie since my husband loved it so much. Deep breath, deep breath.

Does any one else see where this is going?

It quickly became a joking/sore spot with me. I claimed I was never going to make apple pie again if Blaine didn't like mine as much as Mrs. Apple's pie. Then it grew to I was never going to make pie again. The next time Blaine positively commented on something I made for dinner, I didn't believe him. I thought he was just trying to make me feel good.

I started planning my Thanksgiving meal. We are hosting a large group and I was assigning food to everyone. I wanted to make the pies. I wanted to show I could do it. I started planning how I could make different types, use different recipes and then he would have to like one of them better than Mrs. Apple's, right? Then I got a more wicked plan brewing. What if everyone brought a pie, and I could somehow get Mrs. Apple to contribute one (even though she was going to The States for Thanksgiving) and then we could have a blind taste-test. I could come up with a system, rate each aspect of the pie; the crust, tartness, the flavor, the appearance, etc. I could make little score cards for everyone. And in the end, surely everyone would pick mine as the best and all would be right with the world again.

Wow, evil plotting is exhausting.

I calmed down a little and realized I wouldn't make any pies. Let them eat cake! Just kidding. But what is Thanksgiving truly without Blaine straining a hamstring during the turkey bowl and me making apple pie? So I decided I would make one and we would just eat it the day before with our family. I even made the kids stop talking about it and decided I wouldn't bring it up any more and I would forget it ever happened. I could almost see myself laughing at it in 25 years.

Yesterday, I talked to Mrs. Apple and found out their trip had been canceled. I invited her and her husband to our Thanksgiving celebration. She offered to bring an apple pie because she knows how much my husband likes hers.

Oh, It's on sista!

I told Blaine Mr. and Mrs. Fuji Apple were coming, and what she said, and how it made me feel. He said he was sorry. I said, "Sorry for what you said and for liking her pie better than mine?" He replied, "No, sorry you got offended."

I called my mom on the way to the store, armed with my shopping list of tart baking apples. I thought she would laugh at me for the troubles I layed at her feet but she didn't. She sympathized. And then she said, "You know what this feeling is don't you? It's called pride."

I know, I know, I know!!! And I was doing so good until I had it thrown back in my face. Ok not good but I was dealing with it...I had begun to deal with it...I was seeing that I was going to deal with it sometime very soon.

I didn't buy any apples, just sweet potatoes, and butter and pecans, lots and lots of pecans.

Never would I have guessed that I would be doing a lot of praying about pie but I have. And the chip on my shoulder is getting smaller each time.

And this Thanksgiving, I will graciously accept Mrs. Apple's pie into my home, thank her for bringing it, and cut my husband an extra large piece of it because I know it will make him happy.

I, for one, will not be making an apple pie this year.

Blaine's favorite pie is pecan pie anyways!