Crazy Bird Lady

If any of you needed confirmation that I am crazy...here it is.

Last week we went to a local pizzaria for dinner. 

Right away my daughter noticed all the sparrows flying in and out of the awning of the roof.  "Look Mama!  They have nests!"

As we stepped up onto the sidewalk, she stopped.  "What's that?" she asked, pointing to a small, pink, squirming thing on the sidewalk.

It was a baby sparrow, probably just hatched, that had fallen out of the nest.  We all stood over it, feeling helpless.  The awning was too high to reach.  My daughter had a very pained expression on her face, but said nothing.  

Reluctantly I followed the rest of the family into the restaurant.  Half way to our table I turned around, grabbed a napkin of another table and went outside. There was no way I could sit there and eat while thinking of that little thing struggling just to survive out there.  And there was no way I could let my daughter see me stand by and do nothing.  What kind of message would that be?

So I gently wrapped that little pink thing in a napkin and brought it back into the restaurant, much to the delight of my husband (read with sarcasm)  and kids.  The kids...they were delighted.

During dinner that little bird started peeping for food.  To keep him quiet I soaked bread in a little water and fed him on the sly.  The folks at the table next to us were in on the 'secret' and were offering up advice, mostly to the tune of "It's just going to die.  The mama bird will kick it out if it smells a human.  Don't waste your time." 

I've learned to ignore that kind of advice a long time ago.

Fast forward: We made it home.  We placed the bird in my son's knit cap, placed in a shoe box, placed on a heating pad.  We soaked bread and bird seed and water and fed it.

I fully expected to find it dead in the morning. 

Surprise!  The next morning that little guy was peeping for food.  Oh crap.  Now what?

I suddenly remembered the cardinal nest in the camillia bush in the back yard.  It had eggs in it two days ago.  If one has hatched, I could slip the baby in there and maybe...MAYBE mama cardinal wouldn't notice. 

Luck would have it, one had just hatched. 
I slipped the baby into the nest and waited. 

Mama cardinal didn't bat an eye.  She has 'adopted' the smaller, uglier baby as her own.  I have seen her and the daddy cardinal taking turns feeding it.  At night, mama snuggles in the nest with them.

This whole experience has taught me two things:

1)  Mama birds can't smell humans.

2)  Don't ever listen to people if they tell you to just give up...that it will never work.  That it is 'impossible'.  Who knows?  If you stick to what you know is right and good....it just might.

Decaphobia

My baby girl will be ten next week. 

I KNOW.  Why is it so exciting when your oldest turns ten...and so sad when your baby turns ten?

Anyway, last night after ballet practice, she disappeared into her room.

I found her there an hour later, still in her little pink tights and leotard, laying on her bed and sobbing. 

"What's wrong?"
"I DON'T WANT TO BE TEN YEARS OLD!"
"Why not? It's very exciting to be ten!"

After a few moments of snuffling back tears came this:

"If I grow up you might not love me anymore."

My heart squeezed inside my chest when she said that.

So I held her and rocked her and assured her that yes, I will always love her.  Even if she grows up.  Even if she makes horrible mistakes and thinks no one could ever forgive her...*I* will love her.

So I tucked her in.

"Will you read me a story, Momma? " ( She hasn't let me read her a bedtime story in years. I was more than happy to oblige.)

I know what she's going through...that painful time of realizing, no, I'm not a baby anymore.  And the grown up world is scary...which is where I am headed. I want my mommy.

Maybe she realizes now that even through those scary times...she's stuck with me. 

No matter what.

Yes, It Is.

Yesterday my son checked out a book about weather and wanted to perform an activity in the book.  It required drilling a hole in the caps of two bottles, gluing them together by the caps (after having filled one with water) and when you turn it over and the water runs from one bottle to another...voila!  A vortex!

In theory that is.

My son got a lesson in drilling holes.  Fabulous.

Then came the 'gluing together' part...guess what?  No super glue.  Not even duct tape.

So I used masking tape out of desperation.  I KNOW.

Then the big reveal....which didn't work because the holes he drilled were slightly too small and the water dripped pitifully through.

So we discussed air pressure instead and showed how when you squeezed one bottle, the compression forced the water into the other bottle.

As we were cleaning up, hubby expressed his disappointment in the failure of our experiment.

"I think it went okay," I said. "He learned how to use a drill! Besides, we watched the Decorah Eagle Cam this afternoon and saw a chick hatch, so we have science covered anyway."

"Everything is a lesson with you, isn't it?" hubby muttered on his way out to the trash can.

Yes. Yes, its is.

The Blessing of Getting Older

Can I just clear something up right now?

Getting older is really, truly awesome.

Here's 10 reasons why:

1.  Big underwear.  I spent my 20's wearing those tiny little underwear.  When you are over 40, no one expects you to sport the Victoria's Secrets.  Comfy, big underwear rocks.

2.  Those wild oats are SOWN, baby.  No need to go out on the town to the wee hours of the night, drinkin and lookin for Mr. Right.  I have my Mr. Right at home with me, just where I want him.

3.  When I WAS 20, there was no Internet...no Facebook...no Twitter.  Thank goodness.  I would hate to know any of the crazy (read:embarrassing) stuff I did is not public fodder.

4.  I don't have to explain to anyone why I go to bed at 10:00.  It's what us 'old folks' do.

5.  No more tanning torture.  Remember those days of our youth spent laying out to get the 'perfect tan'?  Flip over every thirty minutes.  Raise your arms.  Sweat your fanny off.  Yeah.  If I get a tan now, it is purely incidental.

6.  So I have a big butt...who cares? I am alive and healthy. 

7.  Getting wrinkles and sunspots isn't that big of a deal.  Each one of those wrinkles was formed from a moment of smiles and laughter.  And my daughter calls my sunspots 'freckles'. So there.

8.  Courage.  Courage that stems from wisdom.  The kind of courage that allows me to step away from situations and people that would bring me harm or discontent.  Courage to stand up for something even when I am the only one standing up for it.  The courage to yell at the kids next door when they get on my lawn. 

9.  The older I get, the less I think about "Me".  I realize that life isn't all about "Me".  That in itself is liberating.  One surefire way to make yourself miserable is to only focus on "Me".

10.  Having children old enough to have meaningful, enlightening discussions with.  Priceless.

Oh, okay.  Make it 11 reasons.

11.  I'm old enough to remember the days before cell phones.  I'm not glued to it 24/7.  I fully utilize my voicemail.  I know that phone is truly for MY convenience. 

For Sale

If you have followed this blog for any length of time, you know that our family is chomping at the bit to move out to the country, and of course the perfect piece of land is for sale.

Yay me, right?

Today the realtor is coming to photograph the house and put it on the market.

Yay me! and Sadface all rolled into one.

I know if we sell this house, I will be a basket case. Because I am uber-sentimental, I can't help but think about "This is the house I brought my babies home to".  All of the birthday parties, Christmases, laughter, love in these walls...would anyone else appreciate it?  And of course the morbid side of me wonders if I should mark where the dead pets are buried in the yard...I'd hate to know they'd been dug up accidentally.

I've already told myself if we sell, I'll never be able to cruise by here and see another family in the yard or their car in my driveway.  It would be like seeing your ex for the first time out on the town with another woman.

But change is good. If there were never any change, caterpillars would never become butterflies and all that jazz.  And I *am* exicted about having this new adventure in life.

But part of my heart hurts a little just thinking about it.

Mini Veggie Frittatas

One thing I enjoy as a homeschooling mom is that I have time to fix healthy breakfasts for my kids.  Here is one that they loved so I thought I would share!

First, let me just say that I LOVE frozen, chopped veggies.  They make my life so easy in the kitchen.

Mini Veggie Frittatas
1/2 cup frozen chopped spinach (loose packaged...not the spinach-cicle in a box)
1/2 cup frozen chopped onions
1/2 cup frozen chopped broccoli
1/2 cup each diced ham and real bacon crumbles (found in the salad section, not to be confused with Bacon-bits.  This is the real thing, baby!)
5 eggs, beaten
1/2 cup shredded cheddar cheese

Preheat oven to 375.
Spray muffin tins (I used 8 cups in the pan, so spray about half of the cups) with non-stick spray.  Put all the frozen chopped veggies in a microwave safe bowl and cook on high for about 2-3 minutes, stopping every minute or so to check the broccoli for tenderness.  Mix into beaten eggs.  Stir in bacon and ham.  Fill as many muffin cups as you can, about 3/4 full.  Bake for about 15 minutes until puffed up and when touched, feel springy. (may take a little longer than 15 minutes.)

Remove from heat and sprinkle cheese on while hot. 

We served ours with cantaloupe, fresh pineapple and whole wheat toast.

Enjoy!

At Least It's A Start

CONFESSION:


I hate running.  I have never ever been a good runner. 

In the 9th grade our P.E. teacher video taped us each individually running and played the videos in the next P.E. class we had.  When my video came on her critique was "TOOO much 'hip action!'"  and of course that was followed by the kind of laughter that only 9th graders are capable of when nervous and embarrassed themselves.

Did I mention I hate running?

However, this morning...this lovely spring morning the kids and I decided to go for a walk. 

I was overcome with the urge to run.

"Let's run from this mail box to the next one!"  and we all jogged. 

We continued to jog every other mail box 'length' all the way around our block, which is close to a mile.

And I think I even had a little 'runners high' if you will.  Blame it on the Spring Fever.

Could it be? After all these years of being a certified Running Hater...could I maybe be 'getting it'? 

Tomorrow morning, the kids and I plan to do it again.  Every other mailbox.  Pitiful when my husband can jog an entire 5K track and hold a conversation at the same time.

Hey, it's a start anyway.