family

Loving Lately

I love when the chilly outdoor air permits the perfect reason for a roasting fire inside. It’s something I wait for all summer long. I can get by with bonfires, on the beach or a backyard on a chilly night, but there is nothing like getting cozy with the kids, when all is calm and well, in front a the crackling warmth of a fire at home. I like to make tea, the kids beg for cocoa, and for the moment time slows down like in the days of old.

By the Fireside – Poem by Robert Browning

How well I know what I mean to do
When the long dark autumn-evenings come:
And where, my soul, is thy pleasant hue?
With the music of all thy voices, dumb
In life’s November too!

I shall be found by the fire, suppose,
O’er a great wise book as beseemeth age,
While the shutters flap as the cross-wind blows
And I turn the page, and I turn the page,
Not verse now, only prose…

Image courtesy of James P. Jordan

As a child it’s awe-inspiring; the heat, the danger, the excitement. As an adult… it’s just as awesome.

My baby, contemplating the phenomenon of fire

In the latest issue of the Magnolia Journal, Joanna Gaines shares her excitement about the season in an article titled Anticipating Nostalgia, “…I see Chip and me fireside with all of the kids snuggled in around us, gazing at the lights till our eyes are too heavy to keep open…”

Ideal.

It’s just a classic tale that never gets old. You don’t “outgrow” having a fire.

Image courtesy of classygirlswearpearls.com

Traditional Irish House Blessing:

God bless the corners of this house
And be the lintel blessed.
Bless the hearth, the table too
And bless each place of rest.
Bless each door that opens wide
To stranger, kith and kin;
Bless each shining window-pane
That lets the sunshine in.
Bless the roof-tree up above
Bless every solid wall.
The peace of Man, the peace of love,
The peace of God on all.

-courtesy of appleseeds.org

I love that, “bless the hearth, the table too…” I don’t take being warm for granted.

Image courtesy of nature.desktopnexus.com

Here’s to enjoying life’s simple pleasures, and hoping you are staying warm on these chilly nights.

Love,

Sadie

 

Featured Image courtesy of townandcountrymag.com (which also has quite a few more cozy pics if you are interested!)

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Mississippi Wedding

The first time I met my husband’s family, well, it was a little bit like going to the circus- entertaining to say the least, and I never knew what to expect next. It was a family reunion at his aunt’s house in Northern Michigan. His deceased mother was the oldest of nine children- and he hadn’t seen most of his family, while he’d been away at college, since the funeral. Many of them, including his grandmother met us on the front lawn. There were tears… long hugs… and a lot of laughs… all within the first 5 minutes. Owen and I had recently gotten engaged, so to make us feel welcome fit right in stand out like a sore thumb, they had hats prepared for us to wear with “Groom-To-Be” and “Bride-To-Be”, respectively. As the night went on, there were more many more tears, hugs and laughs; enough food to feed an army; and never a dull moment on any square inch of any of that acreage. And that really is the family in a nutshell. They are passionate, hardworking, and FUN-loving people… and it took about 2 seconds to see where my husband got his personality.

One of the little family members I met that day was my husband’s cousin Chris, a sweet and lighthearted boy with a great head of curly hair and contagious laugh. Somehow he has managed to stay just the same… only a little older.

It’s hard to believe that Chris was about my oldest son’s age when he attended my wedding (insert sigh and moment to reminisce)… but, now he is all grown up. And as good fortune would have it, he has made his perfect match… Which brought us to the deep south for a Mississippi Wedding!

Then venue for the big day was at Plein Air Chapel and Mill in Taylor, Mississippi just outside of Oxford. It was picturesque; quaint, intimate, and rustically elegant.

(Naturally, never being in Mississippi before, I had a blast playing up the southern gentlemen and southern belle.)

I mean, really… there wasn’t one bad angle on the whole grounds.

Mother of the Groom, Aunt Barb- beautiful inside and out, waiting in the on-site restaurant for the ceremony to begin:

Father of the Groom, Uncle Al, doing the same… and partaking in a little A/C (since it was something like 92° in the shade):

Aunt Rochelle, looking lovely while braving the elements and not even breaking a sweat:

I wish I would have gotten more pictures outside of the chapel to show you. It really is idyllic. However, I did manage to snap a few inside during the ceremony…

Mother and Father of the Groom walking down the aisle to light the Unity Candle:

The Mother-of-the-Bride was stunning. And before I knew who she was, I saw her sitting on the front porch of the chapel looking all the part of a calm, cool and collected Southern Lady while the Father-of-the-Bride was waiting with his daughter. I really wish I had asked to take her picture (the grumblings of a non-related, not-hired-to-be-the-photograper, introvert). Anyway, this picture does not do her justice, but you get an idea:

The wedding party was gorgeous and the bouquets were so pretty! Here’s a glimpse:

And look at these sweet little showstoppers!:

And the moment we’ve all been waiting for…

Can’t you just see that sparkle in her eye? You should have seen how cute she was on the dance floor! (And can you say wedding veil? Love it. )

The ceremony was just precious, so heartfelt… (I’m such a sucker for vows of devotion.)

Caught the mom moment:

And the new Mr. & Mrs!

Time to go celebrate:

And what would a reception (or Sadie’s Nest) be without the food? Time for a little Southern Comfort… 😉 The menu included fun finger foods like BBQ Pulled Pork Sliders, White BBQ Chicken Sandwiches, Fried Green Tomato BLT’s (Yassss! If you didn’t know, now you know.), Shrimp, Stuffed Mushrooms, Grilled Asparagus, etc., Caesar Salad, and delicious dips, such as Cheesy Artichoke, Salsa, and Buffalo Chicken Dip with mounds of Tortilla and Pita Chips…

For the kids, young and old, who like to start with dessert first…

Who stole the cookie from the cookie jar? (I found him.)

Can you blame him?

Of course when it comes to dessert at a wedding, you have to have the main event… I love how simply beautiful this is:

The centerpieces were gorgeous too.

I think it’s safe to say, the relaxed atmosphere (in no small part due to Sydney and Chris) was enjoyed by all.

And the kids had a blast running around outside. Isn’t there just something so sweetly nostalgic about that?

Barefoot and all…

Although I have to say, hands down, my favorite thing about going to a wedding is the priceless moments spent with friends and family.

Welcome to the family Sydney!

A special thank you to Sarah Rousseau, who took this shot with my camera so I could be in it. 🙂

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Loving Lately

Have I ever mentioned that I LOVE jazz? I do. I always have. I just get it.

For a period of time, my mother worked as a secretary for a landscaping firm. It was owned by two business partners, both were kind and intelligent men; one of them, an architect and savvy engineer, was particularly generous and warm. He and his wife, a school counselor with her Master’s degree, blossomed a great friendship with my parents and they often hung out together outside of the professional realm. On Friday nights, the whole (small) office team and a few friends would go out after work. And every Friday night they would talk about going to breakfast at Brennan’s in New Orleans- where they would enjoy a five course meal including eye-openers served by waiters in tuxedos. However, there was always someone that for whatever reason couldn’t do it so, they would just scrap the idea, until the following week. On a particular Friday in February of 1977, the subject came up and went around the table as usual, except this time everyone said they could go. For a second they all looked around at each other kind of stunned, wondering if they were really going to do it… Six out of the eight said they would. So, one of them quickly booked the red-eye and off they went- home to pack in a rush and meet back up at the airport. Once on the plane, they realized that not a one of them had any major cash to pool (banks weren’t open on weekends and ATM’s weren’t a thing), until my mom looked in her purse and realized she hadn’t made the bank deposit that day, giving them a few hundred in petty cash. They were all such a jovial group, that I can just feel the joy and almost hear the laughter when my mom tells the story how it all just worked out. I love it when she describes her craving for the fried oysters that she could smell from the open bars as they walked around the city… The jazz music they took in at the Preservation Hall… And the snowflakes that dusted New Orleans in a record-breaking cold winter. Of course, they were all dressed in their Michigan clothes, so that didn’t bother them either. Unexpectedly, Brennan’s was full with a convention, but they were assured that Court of Two Sisters would be a comparable breakfast- and it did not disappoint. Drinks were bloody Mary’s, mimosas, or screw drivers, etc., and they feasted on fresh baked breads, coffee, an appetizer of baked apple with cream, an entrée of Eggs Benedict and ended the breakfast with Bananas Foster flambé…

I love that story- of close friends flying out on whim to eat breakfast in New Orleans. And I take a little pride in knowing that I was there too… albeit in my mother’s womb. (Obviously, that is where I inherently fell in love with jazz… and possibly food.)

That same man and his wife, not able to have children of their own, would ask my parents if they could be godparents to me and later my sister. And through the years they were very good to my sister and me. They would take us to the theatre at The Fox, the Fisher, The Gem, and to see the Detroit Symphony Orchestra. I was enamored with their Frank Lloyd Wright inspired home, their art collection, and the Shirley Temples my godfather would serve me with my very own cocktail napkin. I’d listen to their stories, their records, and imagine them dancing the Jitterbug. I can safely credit them with my love of the arts (and so much more).

My godfather passed away before I graduated from high school, but my godmother passed away very recently. As an homage, my sister and I were given several pieces of their art collection and I now lovingly own much of their record collection…

So, please excuse my absence… as I reflect on their memory and love of life, listen to great music and tell their story to my children. …And who knows, maybe I’ll even fit in an impromptu flight to New Orleans. 😉

Loving Lately

I apologize for the lapse in time. I realize that my “spring” break lasted a little longer than anticipated. (I’m sure you were all ridden with anticipation: When is Sadie going to publish another post?) Of course, now that I have identified myself as a writer, I can justify taking artistic license and melodramatic periods of unexplained absence; time to “smell the roses.” It’s all a part of the creative process. (Unless you want to syndicate me, then I assure you I work great under the pressure of a deadline.)

We are very fortunate that my in-laws are indeed snowbirds and are generous enough to offer their Floridian home to our family for our week of school vacation. We get to spend our time in the warm luxurious sunshine and in turn they get the opportunity to share in the experience of potty training our youngest son. I really don’t know what we were thinking. It worked so well for our oldest son, the incentive of getting to swim in the pool if he goes potty in the toilet. Since we were in a potty-using rut at home, we thought we’d try it out. It worked… but not without consequence. I’d like to publicly apologize for the rug incident. (And any other incidentals that I know of and possibly other events of which I am unaware. Ahem.) You both are so good to us!

It was mostly highs however. We fed giraffes…

Rode camels…

went on an airboat ride,

and took the touristy shots.

I think we’re missing something…

We were photobombed by an alligator. (Yes, an alligator.)

Okay, that was a dirty trick. But seriously, check out the background here.

And then the kids decided to hold a baby alligator.

My mother-in-law and I tried out a new Sangria recipe. Yum! (Coming soon!)

Vacation is a time of escape, but not a total reprieve of responsibility.

And I am proud to say, we came home with two more successful deep-end swimmers.

Another vacation for the books. I love it.

And just in case you need actual proof that I was there:

 

If you received a version of this post yesterday without pictures… I’d like to blame technical difficulties. Sorry!

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Merry Christmas!

Remembering the reason for the season and Wishing your day is merry and bright!
…And best of luck lining up those perfect family pictures; when everyone is smiling and looking at your camera, because I give up.

Pizza Pasta

Who enjoys having fun with their food? I do! Let’s face it, I’m not in the running to win a Michelin star. Although I think I get 4 stars on this! (One from each of my kids). We have growing athletes in this house, so we eat a lot of pasta. And I don’t know one kid who doesn’t like pizza! Let’s just get crazy… As if we needed further proof that easy weeknight meals can be as amusing as they are tasty.

Serves 6-8

As organic as possible:

1 lb Penne pasta or pasta of choice

1 – 14 oz. jar/can or homemade Pizza sauce

1 – 15 oz. jar/can or homemade Tomato sauce

1 tsp Sugar

1 tsp dried Oregano

Salt and Pepper to taste

6 oz. Pepperoni, sliced *reserve 12-15 slices for topping, quarter the remaining

2 cups shredded Mozzarella or Italian cheese blend, divided

1/4 cup (approx) of freshly grated Parmesan

*Optional diced veggie “toppings”such as onion, green pepper, mushrooms, etc.

Preheat oven to 350°.

Cook pasta according to package instructions, less 1-2 minutes. *I like to salt my water when it comes to a boil, before adding dry pasta. Drain and return to pot.

In the meantime, in a sauce pan, combine pizza and tomato sauces, sugar (to balance tomato acidity), oregano,  quartered pepperonis, and any diced/sliced veggies. Stir until combined and warmed through. Taste for further seasoning, i.e. salt & pepper.

*Side note: this could easily be a vegetarian dish by omitting the meat! 😉

Pour the sauce mixture into the pot of noodles and stir. Place half of the saucy noodles in a large baking dish in an even layer. Sprinkle half of the shredded cheese on the first layer of noodles and repeat with remaining noodles and shredded cheese. Strategically place the full slices of pepperoni around the top of the pasta dish, followed by the grated Parmesan, to create your piece of art. Kiss your grouped finger tips and throw your hand in the air while shouting “Bellissimo!”

Place the loaded baking dish into the oven for 25-30 minutes, until the cheese is melted and the top pepperonis are starting to brown on the edges. Yum!

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*It might also be noted that I reserved some of the saucy noodles, which I placed in a separate small baking dish for my dairy-free son. (Which you may or may not need to do yourself.)

 

Visions of Grandeur – Confessions of a Stay-at-Home Mom

I love my family. I love my children. I love that we, as a family, have the opportunity for me to stay-at-home. I never want to take that for granted. That said, I have more to give! Ok that’s an overstatement, I’m exhausted. Maybe it is more accurate to say I desire to do more.

I don’t want to quit my day job. I don’t want to give up my nights and weekends, sacrificing our only all-member family time, for a part-time job. But I do want a connection to the outside world. As of late, that yearning has lead me down a path of expression through blogging; writing and dabbling in the art of photography- specifically food photography. I’m inspired to write short stories, mostly in the form of plays and dialogues- but first I need to get the kids on the bus. It’s the regular routine of changing the baby’s diaper, making breakfast, packing lunches, cleaning up breakfast, getting the kids dressed (or checking what they have dressed themselves in), inspecting teeth, braiding hair, etc. It’s a sigh of relief when the oldest two out of four are on the bus and on their way fully prepared.

Now would be a great time to enjoy a cup of coffee and jot down that funny thought I had earlier! What was that line again? …But realistically, first I should probably start the dishwasher anyway. That reminds me I have a load of dish towels in the dryer. Crap, the dish towels are still in the washing machine. I need to bring this load of boys clothes upstairs so I can dry the dish towels. “Kids, we’re going upstairs.”

Laundry, my nemesis. They say write about what you know. How can I personify laundry? A dark, looming presence always growing in strength, a force my heroine has to face head on. A little dark maybe, but not untrue. Meanwhile in the real world, what is Noah playing with? It looks like he is in his sister’s jewelry box.

“Oh no, mom, you have to see this!” Elijah yells. Ah! Noah has painted his bangs with nail polish. Oh Noah, I’ve already cleaned up two large spills from you this morning! (Which meant his sister wasn’t on the bus fully prepared, because her baby brother swiped her water bottle -that he poured all over my comfy chair- as if I was going to sit down anyway).

“Noah, No!” I say realizing that at this point it’s not going to make a difference. Let’s get you into the tub. Where is my nail polish remover without acetone… “Stay here.” Okay, I’m back let’s get off that diaper. Plop! Are you kidding me? I just changed a poopy diaper 20 minutes ago!

“Don’t move!” Thankfully it’s in a tub right? (Optimism gets me through the day.) Poop has been transferred to the toilet, now to disinfect. Joys of motherhood. And finally, let’s get to that hair. That is not coming off. I can’t use acetone, this is too close to your eye. What am I going to do? Shave your head? Well, looks like you are going to live with it for a while.

I have a headache. “Everybody downstairs.” I am not doing laundry right now, someone has to keep an eye on the baby. Drats laundry, you win again.

“Yes, Elijah you can have your snack now.” While we’re in the kitchen I should get started on dinner. Crockpot dinner tonight! We need to eat early because Naomi has gymnastics. 

Still, somehow I know these are the best days of my life. I want to cherish every moment. A couple weeks ago, my then still 3 year old said when it was raining “maybe the clouds are crying” -a theory he discovered all on his own. A couple days later, my 5 year old daughter was not feeling well and misquoted a popular saying by explaining “I’m feeling over the weather.” People always say it goes by so fast, and I know it’s true. In the midst of it, it feels fleeting.

So, I am by choice a stay-at-home mom. Coincidingly, I realize the importance of “mommy time”, the need to preserve my sanity and identity. I still have goals! However for me, right now, it’s a necessity that takes a back seat to the priority of “being mommy”. As for my writing career, my prospective coffee shop, my strategy du jour; I’m still dreaming.

Saying Goodbye to Grandpa

Grandpa excelled as an sportsman. He had a keen eye and would point out things in the tops of trees or in the back of a field at a great distance that I could never see. He was an excellent shot and terrific hunter of large and small game. He was one of those intuitive fisherman and had the trophies to prove it. He was a fantastic golfer and had plaques made for achieving two “holes-in-one” in the same week. He was incredible with a sling shot and could swim like Johnny Weissmuller. He worked hard and his life wasn’t easy. Born in Tennessee his family moved to Detroit for more opportunity when he was a young boy. His parents weren’t the most dependable kind. They often left his sister and him to fend for themselves. I remember once when he was asked about what it was like to live through The Great Depression, and his response was that they were so poor they didn’t notice a difference. As an adolescent, the streets of Detroit were his playground. He told me of playing “cops and robbers” with his friends and rolling down the now historic stairs of the Fisher Theater after he would fake getting shot. When he grew old enough he took a job as a cab driver. He would get his fares done early so he could have the car for personal use and drive wherever he wanted- mostly pool halls. He met, fell in love with and married my grandmother. Apparently they were quite the duo winning dance contests for the jitterbug and the such. We really didn’t hear much about all of that. You see, not too long after taking their wedding vows they were invited to a roadside tent revival. They accepted Jesus into their hearts and felt a peace and love they had never experienced before. My grandpa told me how shortly thereafter he was at the 19th hole with some friends. He was drinking his usual beverage that he said tasted like water when he felt this new found peace start to leave- and it scared him. He asked God right then and there that if He would give him back that feeling he would never drink again. He dedicated his life to God and his family. Grandma and grandpa both got jobs in one of Detroit’s booming manufacturing opportunities. They were great providers. They bought a house outside of the city to raise their two daughters, two nieces, nephew and take care of grandma’s mother. Grandpa became a bible teacher at their local church. He wasn’t perfect, but it was clear that he loved God, he loved his family and he wanted to give them better than the experiences he had lived. He said those days with his house full of kids were the best times of his life.

When grandma got sick with dementia, it was hard to watch. Not because she would forget things or regularly repeat herself or ask the same questions over and over. It was hard to watch grandpa. He wanted her to remember. Maybe he got tired of giving the same answers. Maybe he would get embarrassed, for her sake, in front of company. I think mostly he wanted her to get better. The night she went into the hospital for her heart, I drove just over 2 hours home from college to see her. She was sitting up, talking and doing great. I remember telling her I loved her and that she would be going home soon. I couldn’t believe it when I got the phone call that she had suffered ventricular fibrillation during the night and passed. My mom, aunt and grandpa went through the routine of making arrangements. The next year would have marked their 50th wedding anniversary. I’ll never forget my grandpa’s sweet words to me at the funeral, “She was a good woman, I didn’t deserve her” he said.

It hadn’t been a year since grandma had passed and I knew grandpa was lonely. Owen and I had recently gotten engaged, it was the perfect reason to stop over for a visit. Grandpa was happy to see us, but I could tell he was out of sorts. He had the television remote in his hand and was frustrated. I asked him what the matter was and he answered with anger that “Someone has been messing with those wires.” What wires, I questioned and asked him if he had other visitors. The wires behind the TV he explained, and no he hadn’t had any recent visitors. It really didn’t make sense. I asked him who was messing with the wires, and he changed his story to an animal must have gotten in and messed with his wires. Since there was no sign of any animal being in the house, I assured him that that couldn’t be the case and told him Owen would take a look. I figured a wire had gotten loose and disrupted his service. I mean, technology is confusing even for me. When Owen moved the TV set away from the wall, we were all shocked to see that the wall was blackened around the outlet. Thank God there wasn’t a house fire! I told grandpa we had to unplug everything and we would need someone to come out to fix the electrical. He seemed a little dazed and confused, and I knew something was wrong. After our visit was over, I called my mom right away to let her know what had happened. “Something is wrong with grandpa” I told her, “he needs to get checked out.”

He had always been a sharp man. The kind of guy who could quote poems, riddles, stories and Bible passages without missing a word. He was the employee who was awarded $2000 for an innovative idea that would save Chrysler a fortune. Grandpa was a self sufficient person who always seemed confident in who he was and what he was about. The same guy who turned down a supervisor promotion to remain an inspector, because he knew what it meant. No, his weeknights and weekends were for hunting, fishing, tinkering in his garage and going to church. It wasn’t very long after our visit that he was diagnosed with early stages of Alzheimer’s. We all understood, himself included that it wasn’t safe for him to live alone. My grandpa, aunt, and mother saved a few personal treasured items, allowed the grandchildren to take any keepsakes, and kept what my grandfather would need. Then they contacted an estate sale company and put the house up for sale. A plan was set for grandpa to move into a first floor bedroom with my parents.

He had mostly good days at first. He could drive and go out to eat if he wanted to, his last bit of independence. Slowly he showed more and more signs of his disease. He would come home with 10 cans of the same baked beans because he couldn’t think of what else to buy at the grocery store. He would get frustrated and irritable. He was angry with himself for not remembering, and he would often take it out on his family members. Alzheimer’s has a way of making you suspicious on top of forgetful, and he started regularly accusing my sister of taking his belongings such as electric shavers and slippers when he had himself misplaced them. At doctor’s appointments, although clever, his answers became more evident:
“Who are these people?” the doc asked referring to my aunt and mother.
“Relatives” my grandpa answered.
“What kind or relatives?” the doctor prodded further.
“The good kind.” my grandpa replied.
He could no longer remember that they were his daughters. And so it went, some days worse than others. Some days we could cope with humor, like when it took him 20 minutes to baby-step/shuffle from the dining room into the living room. When he arrived he looked up at all of us watching TV and asked “Now what?” Some moments were frightening, like when there was a large crash in the middle of the night. He had pulled out a drawer of silverware that had dropped to the floor. He was just getting his tools he explained. Night wanderings had become more common and my teenage sister had a dead bolt installed on her door. She didn’t feel comfortable with the thought of grandpa walking into her room in the middle of the night. I couldn’t blame her. My parents had alarms installed on the doors after they were awakened to the police pounding on the door one morning at around 2 am. Thankfully they had found my grandpa walking down the road, and in a moment of precious lucidity he could offer to them my dad’s name.

My mother tried to keep him with her as long as she could. They paid my cousin and a family friend to be caretakers and help him with his hygiene when he could no longer remember how, not even when prompted. But it was only a matter of time when we were no longer able to take care of all of his round the clock needs. My mother and aunt found a comfortable adult foster care home with a 24 hour nurse and care he required just minutes away from their houses. They visited him daily, even though he didn’t know. As anyone with personal experience will tell you, the signature not-knowing is the curse and the blessing of the disease. It is the tormenting reality that the family members and friends have to come to terms with and accept. They have to watch their loved one become a shell of their former self, a person that resembles someone they knew very well. At the same time it is the only relief- to know when the Alzheimer’s has fully taken over, the infected person doesn’t seem to have any realization. And you pray that it’s true, that they don’t on any level know the depths of what they are going through.

I was with him early in the day of the night he died- my mother, sister, aunt, cousins and me. When I was told he passed I felt relieved to know he was finally at peace. He went to be with his Lord, with my grandma and many family members that had gone before. He was home and he had his memories. I didn’t attend his funeral services, I continued on a planned trip to Europe. In truth, I knew he was in a better place… and I had said my goodbye to grandpa a long time ago.

Mommy Blogging

If a picture is worth a thousand words; this is the my definition of mommy blogging. Something’s got to give in order to make it happen. 

Have a good weekend! (I’ll just be over here cleaning up…)