Sharing.

In our house we operate under the assumption
that "what's mine is mine and what's yours is mine."  

I fully believe that the candy at the grocery store checkout line is there for one reason and one reason only - to make my normally (ok, sometimes) well-behaved (ok, marginally-behaved) kids act like screaming, raving, mouth-foaming holy terror punk brats.

I always say no to anything that turns my kids into devil spawn.

Except for this one time last week.

Cj and I had just finished up a massive grocery shopping trip, and he had been SO good the entire time, so when he said "Mama, tan (can) us have tandy (candy)?" I said "Sure, why not? Pick something out," which added about 15 minutes to our already long trip as he picked up, smelled, and occasionally licked every candy option in the Kroger checkout lane.

Finally, with a little prompting from me - "OH MY GOD KID PICK SOMETHING OUT RIGHT FLIPPIN' NOW WE ARE HOLDING UP THE LINE!!!" - he decided on some Starbursts, which in his 3+ years of life, he had yet to experience.  See?  I don't feed my kids ALL the junk food ALL the time.

After we were firmly planted in the car, groceries safely stowed in the back, seatbelts buckled, I opened the pack and unwrapped a couple for cj - one red and one yellow, at his choosing - then pulled out of the parking lot toward home.


We discussed the yummy flavors.  He loved the red but said the yellow tasted "funnily." After that,  Cj was uncharacteristically quiet for a while, chewing on his candy, lost in thought.  A few minutes passed,  then he said "Mama, I don't want to share my tandy with zj (actually, he called him Zachary, which is his name.  I'm about over this whole "initials" business.  If you want to do me harm via the internet maybe you should start with my email address).

So anyway, Cooper said "Mama, I don't want to share my tandy with Zachary."

I thought about it for a minute, then replied neutrally "Well, Cooper, you know that in our family we share with each other."

He was silent again for a couple minutes - long enough that I thought he either hadn't heard me or had moved on in his little-boy brain to trucks and puppies or whatever a three year old thinks about, then I heard him sigh loudly.  "Otay, Mama, I share with Zachary," he said.  But he didn't sound particularly happy about it.

"That's great, Cooper," I answered.  "It makes Mama happy that you want to share."

He was silent again.  For miles I drove without so much as a peep from him, which is very, very, very rare.

Just as we were turning into our subdivision, he exploded, talking so loud and so fast it wasn't until I got home, got him out of the car and was able to calm him down a little that I could understand what he was saying.  The gist of it was:

"One time Zachary had some chocolate tandies and he didn't share them wif me.  You said to share and he ated them all up.  All of dem.  And I didn't get to eat any! And you was in the titchen and you said to share and Zachary don't share his chocolate tandies wif me.  And I cried."

There was a whole lot more it than that, but you get the picture.  Also, I have zero recollection of this incident, so either a) it was a long time ago, b) I was drunk or c) he made it up.  Or maybe it was a combination of all three.

At this point, Cooper and I are sitting in the middle of the driveway and my groceries are still in the car and melting, but this seemed like it was pretty important to him so I thought I'd better address it right away.

"Did you feel sad when Zachary didn't share the candy with you?" I asked.

"Yes.  I was bery bery sad.  I cried and cried and cried," he answered solemnly.

"So how do you think Zachary will feel if you don't share your candy with him?" was my next question.

He thought about it for  a minute.  "I think him would be sad, too, if he tan't have any of my tandy."  He looked for all the world like a little old man with the weight of the world on his shoulders as he said it.

"So do you think you should share your candy with Zachary when he comes home from school today?"  I asked, sincerely hoping for a good response.

He thought and thought and thought about it, then finally, just when I had about given up hope for an answer on any kind, he said, "I will share my tandy wif Zachary.  Him tan have the yellow ones."

I love how smart my little guy is becoming.

Everybody knows the yellow ones suck.

Badass.

Here we are in 2000.  I'm not even going to begin to explain what we were doing.  Also, in looking for a picture of the two of us, I can safely say that in 95% of the photos of the two of us together, we are dressed in some sort of costume.  Ah... good times.

My friend Natalie and I have been through a ton of things together, including but not limited to: several marriages, one divorce, six children, some unfortunate hair dye that resulted in one of us having hair the color of a baby chick, more moves, bloody Marys and business plans than I can count, craft projects from Hell, a roller blading incident or two, and several road trips that required hourly bathroom stops because SOMEBODY has a bladder the size of a pea, and the last time we saw each other we showed up with the same hair cut, which is no small feat considering she has naturally curly hair and I do not.

However, it wasn't until recently that we separately, but nearly simultaneously, decided to get into shape, lose some weight, and begin an exercise program.

We have been supporting each other and maybe competing a little, because that's how we roll - both of us are Capricorns - and most of our talks and texts turn to the topic quickly.  I mean, what's more interesting than how many calories I consumed for lunch?  Our workouts have gone in different directions, though, with me focusing on my running and Natalie beginning the P90X program, which I tried for about a minute and hated.

She sent me a text the other night that said, "These exercises make me feel all badass."  That text was immediately followed by another one that said "Wait, is badass one word or two?"  Two seconds later, she sent me another one that said "You're Googling it, aren't you?"  I totally was, by the way. 

I responded with "It's one word.  When it's two words, it just means your ass isn't good."

Since then, "badass" is our new mantra.  When I ran 7.61 miles last week, I was badass.  Her 500 calorie burn on Kempo, TOTALLY badass.  There has been talk of bench pressing children, making snooty ladies jealous of our cute little behinds, and shopping for a new summer wardrobe together.

All of those things sound great, and I look forward to each and every one of them.

But really, it's just nice to have someone who is in the same place as I am, supporting me.  Because having a friend who will support you through all your craziest schemes, plans, setbacks, failures, successes and dreams, now THAT'S badass.

Aren't we adorable?

In case you haven't noticed, I added a link on the left side tool bar a while back.

Go ahead, look for it.

I SAID, LOOK FOR IT!

Ok, here, I'll make it easy for you.

CLICK HERE!!!!!

See, here's how it happened.

As I may have mentioned before, I don't do New Year's resolutions  That still holds true.  This past New Year's Day found me, as well as both kiddos, down and out with the flu.

I was useless.  They were whiny.  I drugged them and they slept a REALLY long time.  Around 5ish that afternoon, I was mobile enough to check up on the important things in life, namely Facebook and Twitter.  I saw on one of those places someone who posted a link to a photo blog she was starting, where she would post a new photo every day of the year.  I have absolutely no recollection of who it was or I'd give credit where it's due.  Sorry 'bout that, but hello? Fever here...

Anyway, I though to myself, "Self, you can do that."

So I did.

I have a great camera, thanks to RJ.  It was my gift on my very first Mother's  Day, and any great photos I've taken are solely to the credit of having a great camera.  I catch a few good shots here and there, but it's totally by accident.

So this is just one of the many things I'm working on this year.

I figured nothing would make me practice photography more that a challenge.  So I challenged myself.

Let me know what you think.

Personally, I think we're darn cute.

Spontaneity.

Spontaneity.

It's not a word I use much.

Seriously, I had to look it up - like in an actual PAPER dictionary - to figure out how to spell it.

I was so far off, spell check wouldn't even help me out.

For those of you who know me in my real life, you know I'm something of a planner.

It comes from a bit of anal-retentiveness years of working crazy hours and multiple jobs and my control freak nature sometimes going weeks between days off and trying to raise two kids and a terrible case of ocd maintain a household and occasionally, just occasionally, sleep.  Some might have said I was a bit, ahem, tightly wound.

There simply was not enough time left over in my life to be spontaneous.

If I wanted to have lunch with someone on a Thursday then I had to make sure I knew the date at least a month in advance in order to get it on the schedule.

Really.

However, when I quit my job to be a stay at home Mama, I decided that I would make a LOT of changes to my life.

I took up running.

I got a new look.

I started going a lot more places, both with and without my kids.

Oh, and I made a plan to become more spontaneous.

It's not as easy as it sounds.

It's hard to let go of a lifetime of structure and planning.

But I'm definitely making strides.

I feel more relaxed than I ever have.  I don't stress about the housework, or if the kids are dressed just right (or at all), or what I'm going to be doing next Tuesday at 3:06pm.

My life is starting to feel... easier, I guess, now that I'm just letting things happen instead of trying to plan for every single thing.

Just the other day, I put a half-cooked dinner in the fridge, called the sitter, dropped the kids off and went out to dinner.  All in the span of 30 minutes.

Another time recently, I put the kids to bed, left RJ in charge at home, and went grocery shopping - alone - at 9 at night, even though everybody with any sense at all knows that grocery shopping should only be done between the hours of 5am and 11am.

It's a start.

I don't think that the tendency to want to plan my work and work my plan will ever disappear completely.

But when it's 4pm, the breakfast dishes are still in the sink, the boys are still in their pjs, I haven't done any personal grooming of any kind, dinner hasn't even been thought about, and zj says "Mama, PWEASE read me another story?  Just one more?  PWEASE?" I'll probably say yes.

On running. And running. And running...

A few months ago I quit my job to be a stay at home Mama, and one of the deals I made with myself was that I would find a way to lose some weight, get in better shape, and deal with the constant lack of energy that had been plaguing me for the better part of the past 36 years or so.

Enter running.

Running and I got off to a bit of a rocky start.

After I healed, I attacked it again.

I even made some grand internet promises that at least two people heard about.

I've gotten all the cool running gadgets and gear.  I love me some Nike, and the Nike + iPhone ap and sensor are too cool for words.  If you ever plan to run, or jog, or even walk really fast, you HAVE to have one of these.

I've been through four pairs of running shoes before finding some that fit my fat, gnarled feet.  Thank goodness for Road Runner Sports' very generous exchange policy.

I've been walking shuffling jogging running for going on four months now.

But today, for the very first time, I actually felt like a runner.

I set a goal.

I beat it.

I felt the burn.

I pushed through it.

My muscles are still protesting.

It's a really great feeling.

Now don't get me wrong.  I realize I'm nowhere near fast.

My stamina still needs a LOT of work.

I have a lot more work to do.

But it's ok.

I'm a runner.

And runners can push through anything.

Triple Chocolate Threat - A Tipsy Cake.

I know, I know.  I need to work on my food photography skills.  This photo was taken with my iPhone literally seconds before the cake went out the door to RJ's work.  Because I forgot to do it before.  Oops.  Maybe I need to work on my memory, too.

Ok, so there's cake, then there's CAKE.

This cake has three kinds of chocolate, two kinds of liquor, and does not require much measuring.

That's CAKE, baby.


WHAT YOU NEED:
1 box white cake mix
1 cup Creme de cacao
1/2 cup water
1/2 cup mini dark chocolate chips
3 egg whites
1/4 cup vegetable oil
1 small box vanilla pudding mix

1/3 cup Godiva White Chocolate Liqueur
6 baker's white chocolate squares

1 can prepared milk chocolate frosting

WHAT YOU DO:
Preheat your oven to 425 degrees and grease two round 8 inch cake pans.  Or really, use what you have.   I'm not going to come and check.

Mix the first seven ingredients with a mixer until it's not lumpy.  You're probably looking at about 2-3 minutes of mixing, which is just enough time to taste test both the liqueurs.  Twice.

Pour half of the batter into one pan, and half into the other.  Put it in the oven and bake it for approximately 40 minutes, or until it's done.  It's cake.  You know when it's done, right?

After the cake cools, melt the white chocolate squares in the microwave, stirring frequently.  When the chocolate is completely melted, SLOWLY whisk in the white chocolate liqueur.  If you pour it all in at once, like I did the first time, it will be a big clumpy mess that you will be forced to eat with a spoon, so as not to, you know, be wasteful.

Spread the white chocolate goodness on the bottom layer of cake, and top it with the other layer.

Frost it with the milk chocolate frosting straight from the can.

Send it off with your husband to work, after which you will hear tales of it's delightfulness, but will never, ever, ever get to try it for yourself.

Because it's rude to eat a big piece out of your cake before you send it somewhere.

Sharing is a skill we have not yet mastered.