Tag Archives: Winter

5 Books to Chase Away The Winter Blues

That darn groundhog is turning out to be persona non grata ’round here. If you are living east of the Mississippi, you are probably nursing some sore shoulders from shovelling snow and dreaming wistfully of your children ever going to school again.

We have just the thing to take the chill out of what is arguably the longest winter EVER! Here are . . .

1. Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell

Nothing warms the heart faster than a love story, and this one charmed us both. It’s a story of first love peopled with characters so real they could walk right off the page. Eleanor and Park are high schoolers the way we remember them, heck, the way we know them. Funny, sweet, vulnerable, flawed, and deeply striving for love, acceptance, and independence, they are characters to cheer for, and you will. Erin walked around like a teen in love while reading it and couldn’t stop shoving it into the hands of any unsuspecting reader she could find. Don’t let the Barnes and Noble sales rack fool you: this is not a teen romance in the same way that War and Peace is not a book that concerns Russia. It IS a 24 hour read. Tops.

2. B ad Monkey by Carl Hiassen

Laughter is the best medicine for the winter blues and Hiassen delivers it by the pageful in not one, but two, tropical locales. The charm of this wickedly funny book starts with its cast of misfit characters including a detective demoted to “roach patrol”, a kinky coroner, a Bahamian voodoo witch, and oh yes, a monkey who was kicked off of a Johnny Depp movie. But this book is not just Saturday Night Live fluff, it is a thriller that kicks off with an arm (with a middle finger raised attitude) being reeled in on a charter fishing trip. Your funny bone will be tickled and your brain freeze thawed as you devour this mystery to its very end.

3. Prodigal Summer: A Novel by Barbara Kingsolver

Oh, Barbara Kingsolver, you complete us! We kind of love everything she writes, but this book is the one to get that pulse racing and the thermostat moving in the right direction. Three interwoven love stories fill out the deeply moving and wildly beating heart at the center of this novel. As always, Kingsolver draws you into the natural world framing the events taking place during this hot, hot summer. As you might expect, the result is less natural history course and more, well, prodigal. Bring a tall glass of cool tea to sip while reading just to bring the temperature down.

4. The Lowland by Jhumpa Lahiri

Sometimes you just need a sweeping epic and Lahiri, as always, delivers. Big time. Set in India and beautifully evocative of that time and place, this book feels universal as it embraces the big themes of familial bonds, love, duty, honor, and passion. Yep, this one won’t only warm you, it will raise you up. A glorious, wonderful read any time of year, but you need this one in your life sooner rather than later, so why not just move this one up the book stack and quick.

5. Maine by J. Courtney Sullivan

Is there a better place to be in summer than Maine? This book practically shimmers like those longed-for golden summers. You’ll start dreaming of warmer days as you read. Rocky coasts, check. Clear cool waters, check. Dysfunctional family dynamics, now we’re talking. Sullivan creates four wonderful women to shoulder this novel and they bring the family melodrama in spades. In the idyllic family home on the Maine coast, secrets are revealed, hopes are dashed, and love marches on one summer.

If you are dreaming of summer like us, you might want to check out our:

Better Books for the Bottom of Your Beach Bag,

Mo’ Better Books for the Bottom of Your Beach Bag,

and Summer Books for Tweens and Teens

and even more books for them.

-Erin and Ellen

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How Motherhood Wins the Olympics

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We love the Olympics. The athleticism, the pageantry, the speculation! Who is going to take home the most gold? Will it be the USA? Maybe the Cayman Islands? (Seriously, this British Territory has a slalom skier.)

But let’s think outside of the box because quite frankly, it will take our minds off of Bob Costas’ oozing pink eye. What if Motherhood was its own country?

We have our own currency: Chocolate Chip Cookies.

Our own conflicts: Mommy Wars.

Even our own traditional costume: Yoga Pants.

We challenge that Motherhood would sweep the gold and hog the podium. And YOU would be the decorated athletes.

“But Ellen and Erin, how would we find the time to train since we can’t even find the time to shower?” you ask? O ye Olympians of little faith, YOU TRAIN EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.

Winning ALL of the Olympic Gold at Sochi: Motherhood

Curling

Sweeping frantically to try to get a stone in a circle.

Seriously? Sweeping. Um yeah, we got this. Next!

Skiathlon

Cross-country skiing in a loop for 15 km.

Monotonously traveling the same path over and over again until we collapse from shear exhaustion and boredom? Motherhood defined!

Figure Skating

The competitive sport of ice skating in prescribed patterns and incorporating jumps.

Okay, we’ve got the jumps and spins down. Wrangling toddlers and avoiding Lego pieces keeps us on our toes. And just look at our friend Frugie from Frugalista Blog vacuum. She is indistinguishable from Ashley Wagner. This woman deserves a 10.o for pageantry . . . or at least for comedic genius.

There is so much more where this came from. Click here to see them because you DESERVE to see Frugie conquer her Nepresso machine. DESERVE!

Ice Dancing

A form of ice skating incorporating choreographed dance moves.

What says Motherhood more than tight asses, perfect hair, and adorable outfits. Wait . . . BWAHAHAHAHA!

Luge

Sliding at high speeds on ridiculously small sleds on a special track of artificially frozen ice.

We’ve got this. It’s actually the perfect metaphor for Motherhood. Nothing reflects the stomach-turning, heart-pounding aspects of parenting like hurling yourself down a track at 80 mph. Retrieving toddlers from chandeliers and open grates or teaching a teen to drive is Olympic quality training right there.

Speed Skating

Form of ice skating in which the competitors race each other on skates.

This is supposed to be difficult? Skates would only make our scrambling from place to place easier. Peshaw.

Ice Hockey

Team sport in which skaters use sticks to shoot a hard rubber puck into their opponent’s net to score.

Oh, we understand intensity, blood, and brawls: Every PTO meeting has honed our skills. If we can convince Peggy Pinterest that chocolate cupcakes made from a box are just fine for the bake sale, getting a puck past a goalie is no big deal. We also know how to throw a few elbows if the need arises.

Motherhood has prepared us well for life beyond sleep deprivation marathons, toilet training, and lunch packing. Dare we say it has prepared us to be champions? YES, WE DARE! So kick Canada off the podium because Motherhood not only has the skills to sweep the gold medals, we can Swiffer that podium, too.

Anyone know how we can get Multi-Tasking named an official sport for the Summer Olympics?

-Ellen and Erin

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Back in the Saddle

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Parenting is a very two steps forward, three steps back kind of enterprise. Sometimes you lead, sometimes your child does. Very often, it’s a bit like dancing: you kind of feel your way to where you are supposed to be.

Last month, we had a pretty, scary experience on a sledding hill near our house. While we weren’t shaken to our cores or anything dramatic like that, we were a little bruised by the incident. Normally, in the relatively mild climate we live in, we would have a solid year before we ever had to even hope for thoughts of slopes again. This would have given us plenty of time to get our full confidence back. But blame yet another indignity on the Polar Vortex, we were not given our moment of grace. We have had snow piling up around us in steady drifts since Old Man Winter arrived on the scene, and it didn’t stop just because we could have used a little time to lick our wounds.

We might have taken the sleds back out to the shed after the first storm. Then we might have rationalized that it was just too cold to take them back out after the second storm. But as we had storm after storm depositing the lovely flakes at our doorstep, we couldn’t really deny what needed to happen. We needed to get back on that horse.

We liked sledding after all. After the hot chocolate and the cute clothes, sledding is probably the best thing about winter. We have some mack daddy sleds that never even made it out of hibernation last year. It seemed such a waste to leave them collecting cobwebs with the pool noodles and lawn mower.

To be frank, we were also driving each other a little batty. We had built all the forts a family NOT under siege needed, and we had assembled a veritable arsenal of snowballs. There are only so many board games, science experiments, and craft projects you can do on your snow days before you want to hot glue gun your brother’s lips shut or plot your sister’s demise by tiger in Parcheesi. It was time to get the heck out of the house and back on the sleds again.

I myself hadn’t been in any hurry to get us back to our hill, but when my friend sent me the text to meet her at the park, I figured it was probably as good a day as any. I probably wouldn’t have chosen to go back to the hill where it all happened, but this was not my gig and I am never one to challenge another mother’s mojo.

It was time to put my dancing shoes on though, because this wasn’t gonna be as easy as “hey, kids, grab the sleds and pile in the minivan.” This was gonna take a little finesse and some of my finer moves. Each boy pushed back with the full power of his age and stage. The 12 year old gave me the international tween signal that it wasn’t happening: he feigned deafness. The 10 year old employed the old deflection tactic of not being able to find a single piece of his winter clothing. His hats, mittens, socks, and boots vanished like a black hole had opened up in our garage. The 6 year old began asking rapid fire questions.

Two steps forward. Three steps back. We were going back to those slopes. Even as I saw the mercury dropping and the light fading, THIS was happening, and today was the day.

That’s right. It was 14 degrees that day. Once we made the decision to get back out there, no sub-freezing temps were gonna get in our way. My feet were ultimately unhappy with this decision, but I stand by it 100%.

The van ride there was quiet with a capital Q. Silence is a mother’s barometer, so I knew their hearts were troubled, their minds distracted. The boys were muted to the extent that I could almost touch each boy’s anxiety, feel the weight of their restrained concern, see their tension take shape in the air around us.

Pulling into the parking lot didn’t pop the tension bubble at all, so I carried their sleds, and I NEVER carry sleds. I saw the 12 year old stop for a second as he crossed the point on the hill where the ranger had run towards us with warning. It was nearly imperceptible, but it was there. One foot in front of the other, son.

At the crest of the hill, the boys were still holding their breath a little. I handed each one a sled, looked each boy in the eye for the non-verbal OK, and pushed. Hard.

I don’t know when they exhaled on the long, sloping ride to the bottom, but the energy was different when they came back up the hill. They were looser, more open, unfurled.

The rest of the day was as it should be. Uneventful. Fun. Normal.

Despite the bitter cold, it couldn’t have been a lovelier day. We were grateful for beautiful clear skies, good friends, and even the cold, crisp air. We were thankful for this moment to get back in the saddle. It may not have been pretty or graceful or even noteworthy to anyone else, but we had found our old footing. Together. Two steps forward at least for now. Cue the jazz hands.

-Erin

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Easy Last Minute Super Bowl Party!

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If you are reading this right now, you, like us have not thought about Sunday’s festivities until this very moment. With homework and travel teams and field trips and snow days and having to clothe and feed people EVERY SINGLE DAY while the Polar Vortex numbs your brain, things like the Super Bowl can be forgotten.

But we love watching football and we love hanging with our families, so the Super Bowl is a perfect time to do both. This menu is a procrastinator’s dream because it is quick, easy, and expandable so you’re set whether you invite the whole neighborhood over or just need to feed your own fun-sized crew.

But this is not just any game, it’s a SUPER game and that calls for something super special. We found this awesome Ballot Sheet that will keep everyone engaged in the pigskin party. With categories like “Numbers of Sacks” snuggled up with “Does Bruno Mars Wear a Fedora?” there is something for everyone. Print them out for the whole gang.

If you’re feeling even more ambitious because you saved so much time using our recipes, you can print out these free Super Bowl Bingo Cards. They really are worth the effort of loading the printer with paper. And if you still haven’t run out of ink (this must mean you DON’T live in Ellen’s house), check out these fun Rate The Commercials Signs.

Okay, time’s ticking away. This an easy Super Bowl party, but it’s not a miracle. Let’s just get to the grub, shall we?

So first the APPETIZERS . . .

Lazy Girl’s Black Bean Cream Cheese Dip

You know what? Be a hero and make a double batch from the start.

This dip has four ingredients: cream cheese, black beans, salsa, and shredded cheese. The most involved step is draining the black beans. We have found it ups the appeal to use gourmet salsa, but really that’s like saying the red convertible made the Homecoming Queen even more popular. This dip is always the first to go. Just make sure you buy enough tortilla chips because people have been known to clean the dish out with a spoon. Or their tongues. And no one wants to see that.

Full printable recipe

Ellen’s Buffalo Chicken Dip

Ellen makes this all of the time, but there is still no picture because it goes too quickly! The secret to the scrumptious-ness of this dip is cooking the chicken in the crock pot the day before or earlier in the day. You MUST cook the chicken this way to get raves; if you just use plain shredded chicken, we can’t be responsible for the yawns you will incite.

And now the recipe is even better. Ellen use to recommend a baking step, but that step has been punted. Now, we do EVERY step in the crock pot. Maybe “lazy” should be in the title of this recipe, too.

Full printable recipe

On to the MAIN COURSE . . .

All right, so everyone is wowed by the appetizers. Time to kick the laziness up a notch.

Erin: How did we go from “easy” to “lazy”?

Ellen: Truth in advertising?

Erin: Let’s call it what it really is–SMART.

Ellen: Whatever. Let’s just get to it.

The Smartest Crock Pot Pulled Pork

Lazy or smart? Poe-tay-toe, Pu-tah-toe.

There will be no printable recipe , because you’re a smartie and we believe in you.

Three ingredients: 5 – 8 pound pork tenderloin, package of dry onion soup mix, and one 16.9 oz bottle of Coke.

Throw it in the crock pot and let cook for at least 7 hours. Shred the meat with a fork.

You can do it!

Ellen: Alright, we may be lazy, but we can’t throw health completely to the wind. Gotta have some veggies.

Erin: See! That’s smart!! Seriously, we should drop the lazy.

Ellen: Easy, lazy, smart . . . once again, whatever. Although this menu is starting to sound more like a conflicted valedictorian.

Crispy Colorful Vinaigrette Coleslaw

Best Cole Slaw EVER!

This coleslaw is the best, because it doesn’t have a drippy, creamy dressing. It perfectly tops the pulled pork on a bun or takes the heat away from the Buffalo Chicken Dip. The recipe calls for some chopping of vegetables, but if you want a ~~lazier~~ smarter version, you can just dump a bag of shredded cabbage, a bag of broccoli slaw, and a bag of shredded carrots in the bowl and call it a day.

Full printable recipe

Some Kind Of Awesome Creamy Chicken Salsa Soup

This is the definition of crowd-pleaser.

Another option play would be this fabulous soup. If you’re already cooking the chicken for the buffalo dip, why not just double it? Even if you don’t want to serve this at the game, you can have dinner ready for Monday because as we mentioned before, the feeding NEVER ends. Now that we think about it, maybe you really should save this soup for the next day because it is SO good people will never leave your house.

Full printable recipe

Can’t forget about DESSERT . . .

Oreo and Peanut Butter Brownie Bites

You can whip these up in minutes to be declared the MVP of all time of all Super Bowl parties. Yes, they are that good. Brownie mix, Oreos, and peanut butter: three ingredients that make your taste buds go boom!

Full printable recipe

May the Odds Ever Be in the Favor of the Team You Want to Win!

(Our teams are out of it so we can be generous like that.)

-Ellen and Erin

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Traveling Through the Polar Vortex Gulag Style

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Are you cold? We’re cold. If you’re not cold, we don’t want to hear about it. Besides you might have your own set of problems to contend with like drought and bursting into flames. Maybe this is really the Apocalypse the Mayans were talking about, just a year late because of some ancient daylight savings year algorithm understood only by the sun god . . .who wants you to burst into flames.

Erin: But we were talking about cold and trying to angle our way to the Polar Vortex–such a sexy term for what is basically cyclonically freezing your patooty off.

Ellen: Hey, another fun fact–did you know some signs of hypothermia are mumbling and difficulty thinking? I’ve always adored the color green and does anyone really like coconut ice cream?

Erin: Haven’t you thawed out from the train ride by now?

Ellen: The train ride. The Polar Vortex was all fun and games and hot toddies until we took that train ride.

Erin: See, we were going to a meeting in Washington D.C.–a two hour drive from where we live.

Ellen: A two hour drive if every human on earth was vaporized by the sun god. The problem is, we had to travel during rush hour and the last time we did that it took us four hours.

Erin: So since we are sensible, we weren’t going to repeat a travel mistake twice. We were going to take the train!

Ellen: And this is when the Polar Vortex starting to nip at our frozen assets.

Erin: So without further ado, we present to you The Stages of Hypothermia That Slowly Affect You As You Are Sitting On A Train That Is Being Delayed On Your Way To Washington To . . .

Ellen: Rambling. Rambling is also a sign of hypothermia.

Stages of Amtrak Hypothermia

Stage 1

Freeze your fingers. Realize what a mistake it was to forget your gloves (Erin) because your fingers might fall off from the cold after only being outside for 2 minutes in the Amtrak parking garage. Turn in the general direction of the Mayan pyramids to praise them because Ellen’s daughter is such a slob and left her funky zebra striped hybrid mitten/gloves under her seat.

Zebra Gloves Traveling Through The Polar Vortex

Nothing says “professional” like fingerless zebra print gloves.

Stage 2

Turn your toes into ice blocks. You “shun” the warmth of the lobby to wait outside for your train. Hazy thinking has not set in yet, it’s the electronic signs lying to you. When you went up the steps to the tracks the signs at the bottom said the train was on time. No sign at the top of the steps informed you otherwise. Remain in the cold at the top of the steps because you are punked by a train that is not your train coming at the exact time YOUR train was supposed to be there.

Stage 3

Turn your feet into ice blocks. Not because your judgement is declining, but because the punking just doesn’t stop. You’re afraid to leave the platform because after the train that is not your train pulls away, the sign says your train is coming, then that it is loading, and then that it is last call. It must have been Wonder Woman’s newly commissioned train because it was invisible.

Stage 4

Continue to bathe in cold. When you finally get on your train an hour and a half later why let the frozen good times stop there? Drag your shizz through 6 train cars without finding a single seat. Give up and fall into the ONLY two seats available. Hooray! They are those awkward face-the-other-two-strangers type of seats. Bonus? They are right. by. the. door. Cue arctic blasts every 6.5 minutes.

Stage 5

Exacerbate frozen feet by restricting blood flow. The two strangers in the seats facing you are seven foot tall Russians. No blood is getting to your feet because your legs are crunched into 0.2 microns of cubic space. Be further chilled by the glare of the blue-haired, pierced millennial sitting across the aisle who loathes you just for existing. Start to hallucinate that she is Jack Frost.

Why do engineers think these seats are good ideas? We might as well have been chewing the same piece of gum.

Why do engineers think these seats are a good idea? We might as well all have been chewing the same piece of gum.

Stage 6

Complaining commences. The Train of Tardiness is SLLLLLLOOOOOOOOOOWWW. Ellen starts to loudly point out that a dog sled would be faster. Ducks are walking faster than our train.

Stage 7

Pollyanna cracks. Erin piles on scarves that she is pulling out of thin air like a meth-addled magician. HER complaining begins.

Stage 8

Clumsiness creeps in. When you’re finally released from the Siberian Gulag Express, fall down the steps (Erin) with a dramatic fling of your suitcase at the conductor. Curse the Polar Vortex for piling three inches of ice and snow on the tiny metal steps. Copy down the number for 1-800-YOUHAVEALAWYER because really, if the conductor had just cleaned off the steps he would not have received a face full of suitcase.

Stage 9

Despair and poor decision making sets in. Walk out of Union Station to find a 20 minute line for the taxis. Instead of walking a block to immediately hail a taxi, stand in line like a peasant waiting for bread rations. Still maintain enough coherence to complain that the idiots are only loading one taxi at a time despite the fact there is a whole friggin’ line of them waiting.

Stage 10

Babbling escalates. Apparently once a Pollyanna cracks, the negativity flows out from the depths of her soul. Maybe these cleanses are how Erin maintains her sunny disposition most of the time. Babble-y complain so much that the normal woman in front of you offers you a blanket. Get a relapse of sense and break ranks to jump into the third taxi in line. If the outside is Siberia-esque, the cab is like a pup tent on the frozen tundra. So basically, hour five of freezing continues to tick away.

Even with all of these layers, you could still hear Erin complaining: LOUD and CLEAR.

RESCUE!

Deposited at the first aid station. In this case, the “station” was Cuba Libre and the “aid” was mojitoes and malanga fritters, but you say “poe-tay-toe,” we say “Suck it Amtrak.” Do not ask us to join in singing any round robin railroad songs any time soon, but we may be up for a Cha-Cha.

May your travels be warmer and less eventful.

-Ellen and Erin

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5 Gifts That Keep on Giving

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Just a little heads up: Christmas is a week away which means, boys and girls, that it’s go time! We know you might be rocking in a corner somewhere or railing against the gods of timesuck that you have more things on your to-do list than time to do it, but we’re here to help. While we can’t stuff your stockings, hang your baubles, or roast your beast, we can share some things that have helped us find the happy sweet underbelly of Christmas in the midst of the madness. Think of it as the cookie before the main course. What? Cookies don’t come first? We’ll never tell.

We’re gonna keep this short and simple, folks, because quite frankly, who’s got the time, but here are:

1) The Gift of Experience

We both believe that experiences trump things. To that end, over the years, we have given concert tickets, special trips, museum visits, and special lessons. We could say that the memories from those special moments were as much a gift to us as to our kids. But spending special time with their awesome moms is the ultimate gift for our kiddos AND they usually end up with a souvenir AND we end up with great pictures! Consider this idea a win-win-win!

The lads and Ellen had a brilliant Christmas.

The lads and Ellen AND her kids had a brilliant Christmas.

2) The Gift of Tradition and Time Together

Never underestimate the power of unplugging. Erin’s family kicks it old school with a new puzzle every year. After they work as a family to put it together, then they mount it, and use it for a Christmas decoration the following year. A foolproof plan for fun and festive flair!

We both also give games. Sure, one might argue that our deeply rooted competitive natures might be at the heart of this one, but we offer this counter-argument. The Great Scrabble Rout of 2007? The Epic Camel Slaughter in Parcheesi? The time the four year old won the UNO tournament? These memories all rival any trip we have ever taken in the annals of family fun. So bottom line, you can think what you want. And if you are coming over this Christmas, be prepared to pick a card.

3) The Gift of Memory

Each year we both work our Shutterfly accounts like a boss to create calendars with pictures from the past year to guide us through the new one. We also both make family yearbooks. Because we started blogging in 2011, Erin is a little behind so her family is getting the 2011 yearbook this Christmas. Resist the urge to point out that we are now in the fleeting days of 2013. She knows. She KNOWS!

4) The Gift of Acknowledgment

Every year Erin’s kids pick someone who has been an angel to their family. Then they give a plate of cookies and an angel ornament to that person. The conversation as they decide who to pick each year is a gift to them all as they realize how many wonderful people they have in their life.

5) The Gift of Each Other

As a general rule, the best gifts don’t actually fit in a box or bag. When Erin’s kids were young, they spontaneously created a play one Christmas Eve. Even as the kids have crossed over into Planet Teen, they have never given up creating a special performance for that night. It is, without question, the best gift Steve and Erin get all year and they are really hoping that one of the videos from these performances will hit it big on Youtube. Then it can keep on giving all the way to the Ivy League. How’s that for a Christmas wish?

But that’s not all.

Our trees are trimmed to the nines with handprints, school pictures, and handicrafts of all skill levels. Our schedules are crammed with band concerts and Christmas plays and choral recitals. Our houses are full of trays of cookies, homemade decorations, and gingerbread houses.

Apparently when boys outgrow gingerbread houses, they get creative and start crafting things on their own. Like the TARDIS from DOCTOR Who.

We know that this is the good stuff. So we clean up the glitter glue and the paper confetti on the floor, work our crockpots to the max to get dinner to the masses before each performance, and buy more cookie sheets to keep our little cookie sweat shops cranking. The big wide world will be taking these kids soon enough.

For now, we will just take a deep breath, enjoy the chaos, and be grateful for our gifts.

And if none of this helps, we have found that nothing will help you get your holiday spirit on like a reluctant angel.

A merry, merry last week of Christmas!

Erin and Ellen

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What Newtown Has Wrought

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So we had a regularly scheduled day off on the heel of two snow days. This meant one thing and one thing only: we needed an ironclad plan to get the heck out of the house. And quick. After getting the boys haircuts that will put me back in the good graces of my mother-in-law, we hatched the grand scheme—a good ole fashioned afternoon of sledding.

And it was exactly what we needed just when we needed it. The slope we picked was the perfect balance of physical exertion and thrill-inducing fun. All seven boys launching themselves over the crest were having a blast. If we were characters in a Hallmark film, we would all have been bathed in golden light with a beautiful melody playing over the montage. It was just that kind of day.

And then it wasn’t.

As we started to think about gathering boys and sleds and soggy mittens to head on back home, a park ranger came running up the slope.

“I need you to get your kids. Now. This is an urgent situation.”

My friend and I looked at each other. Our first collective thought was “Geez, did we really just get in trouble for sledding?” We have quite a history, the two of us. It could happen.

Then the park ranger said the phrase that caught my breath and changed the whole tenor of the day:

“There is a person with a gun in the parking lot. You need to get the kids and follow me now.”

I looked over at the hill still full of seven sweet, silly boys scrambling all over it and screamed,

“Boys, run! Here. Now.”

And God bless each and every one of those stubborn, rascally, cantankerous boys, they stopped, listened, and started running towards us.

The littlest ones were tripping as they tried to drag their sleds along with them.

“Drop the sleds. Just run.”

My friend ran back up the hill to get between whatever was happening in the parking lot and the boys as they scrambled down the hill towards us. I was just trying to keep calm and keep them coming.

“Come on, boys. Hurry up. You can do it.” They all kept coming towards my voice.

When we all reached the ranger, he immediately directed us to the back of a farm shed. Wanna know what fear looks like? Seven little boys tucked in behind tractor wheels and farm equipment.

The ranger gave us more specifics as he learned them. Apparently, a young woman in the middle of a divorce had come to this lovely park on this beautiful day to end her life.

We were probably not in any danger, but he was moving us to a more secure location, a nearby farmhouse the rangers used.

The nine of us sat around the table in the farmhouse waiting for another friend to come and pick us up because we couldn’t get to our cars. The boys all took little paper cones. They overfilled them with water. They spilled them on the table. They dropped mittens and hats and jackets all around like it was their own house. They were just boys. And they talked about what had just happened.

The whole incident was maybe half an hour. It’s hard to gauge time when your heart is beating that fast and your mind is clicking through a reel of scary could-have-beens. In any case, we were safely back at our other friend’s house in a short time. All 9 of us eating her snacks, playing her games, and taking over her afternoon as we waited for word from the rangers that we could go back to the park and pick up our cars.

On our return, the rangers met us in the parking lot with all of the hats, mittens, and sleds the boys had abandoned on the slopes. We chatted with the rangers about the young woman and our hopes that she would find peace. We talked about how relatively common it is for people in pain to come to the park for just this purpose. We complimented the boys for their quick response to our command, their quiet when we needed it, and their cooperation through all of it. And then the ranger said,

“Unfortunately, in our world today, they are all ready for moments just like this.”

Indeed.

There’s nothing really enlightening or uplifting or inspiring to say about what happened in Newtown a year ago. It was a senseless tragedy. But it did change something in all of us. We began to think these things could happen anywhere to anyone at any age. Our children learned— and are expressly taught— how to behave in crisis.

So with nothing to offer those grieving parents of Newtown on this sad and sacred anniversary, I just want to put this Christmas wish out there: Peace.

For those who are grieving, those who are hurting, those who are raising children in a crazy world, those who are growing up in it.

Peace. That is all.

We are all ready, deeply hopeful and wishing, for a moment just like this.

Peace and good will to all this holiday season!

-Erin

PS- I just wanted to add this year, on the second anniversary of that sad day, that I feel like there is something to offer those grieving parents. Nicole Hockley lost her son Dylan that day and there is a post she wants you to read. For all of those who lost their lives that day and all of those that still grieve them, please read this.

Peace and good will to all this holiday season!

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Feeling Holiday Stress? #TalkEarly and The Sisterhood are Here to the Rescue!

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On Dasher and Dancer, it’s party time again!

Holiday cookie swap? We’re firing up the ol’ oven and rattling our cookie sheets.

Seasonal Open House? We’ve got a wheel of brie and some phyllo dough at the ready.

Ice Skating/Hot Cocoa/Gingerbread House-Making Extravaganza. Sharpen our skates, break out the marshmallows, and hit up the ATM for extra money for the dentist.

Elf on the Shelf Holiday Hoedown? Yikes! PASS!

Twitter party? We’ve got an open social media management tool and we’re not afraid to use it.

Sisterhood say what?

Twitter parties may not be your usual holiday fare, but this one hosted by The Century Council and The Motherhood was as welcomed as a peppermint stick in your mocha latte. You can check out some of the takeaways and impressions in the graphic below.

By far the most important takeaway was the realization that for EVERYONE the holidays are packed with love and memorable moments but also stress. And plenty of it. All of that merry-making and memory-crafting means less time doing other things that frankly don’t stop needing to be done just because it’s December. Sock Bag O’ Shame, we’re looking at you!

It’s a point of fact–the more stressed you are, the less efficient you’ll be. And less efficient doesn’t always look like a gas guzzling car, it looks like a hot mess with a little too many miles of road under her eyes, if you know what we mean. It’s most definitely NOT the look you want to be sporting at the office Christmas party–doesn’t really go well with your blow-out and Tory Burches.

None of the good stuff, most importantly your family creating memories with a loving, sane mother, will get done until you find your holiday zen. To which we have a great and sensible solution—a time diary. We all think we have no time. Here’s one way to find your stolen hour. You can even use it to learn to knit. Just stick to scarves and sweaters, PLEASE.

Think of the amount of time you spend on Pinterest or on the phone with someone you don’t even like or even matching socks. We guarantee, if you write down your day hour by hour, you will rediscover a little time for you. Time that you can spend at the gym, the mall, Starbucks, or hunkered down with a good book—whatever YOU want as long as it re-energizes you and keeps you steaming ahead through the season.

We’re wondering why it takes them over an hour to figure out tha heels were a bad idea. We usually realize it in the shoe store.

So Christmas is coming early to you all this year, because to demonstrate our great time diary idea, we thought we would give you. . .

A Day in the Life of Erin

6:00 am: Rise and SHINE!

Ellen: Oh, sweet Cheez-its! Do not start this off all peppy, Pollyanna.

Erin: It’s only peppy for about 5 minutes and then I have to get 5 kids to school. I could be in the army for all I get done before 8am.

6:05 am: Wake teen #1

6:10 am: Wake teen #2

6:15 am: Mediate teen argument over bathroom

6:20 am: Sign permission slip/check/birthright over to teens who forgot to show me the slip the night/week/month before

6:30 am: Mediate teen argument over bathroom/Say good morning to Boy #3 and Boy #4 who rise and shine like their Momma

6:40 am: Wake tween who hates mornings

6:45 am: Mediate teen argument over bathroom

6:50 am: Feed teens/ Remind them to make their lunches/Wake tween who hates mornings . . . again/Put Boy #4 in timeout for bodyslamming the cat

7:00 am: Mediate teen argument over bathroom/ Wake tween who hates mornings . . . Again/ Take Boy #4 out of timeout because I forgot about him

7:10 am: Wave goodbye to teens/ Wake tween who hates mornings . . . AGAIN/ tell Boy #3 and #4 to get dressed

7:20 am: Wake tween who hates mornings . . . (Help me)/ tell Boy #4 to get dressed

7:30 am: Wake tween who hates mornings . . . (HELP ME)/ tell Boy #4 to get dressed

7:40 am: Wake tween who hates mornings . . . WTH?/ tell Boy #4 to get dressed/ Give Boy #3 Cookies for Breakfast and tell him he’s my favorite because he is dressed, ready, AND has made lunches for his slacker brothers

7:45 am: Forcibly remove tween from bed/ Help Boy #4 get dressed

7:45 am-8:00 am: It’s a blur

8:05 am: Carpool to school

8:20 am: Home again drooling into my Diet Coke and Frosted Mini-Wheats

Ellen: I need a cookie for surviving reading that.

Erin: I’m dripping in sweat. And then it begins. . .

9:00 am: Phone call #1 from hubby: Can you pick up the dry cleaning? Shop for the office party?

9:15 am: Phone call #2 from long lost high school classmate: We haven’t talked in 15 years, but can you find the address of that guy who used to be my best friend?

9:30 am: Phone call #3 from school: Can you come in an hour early TODAY? We changed the day for mass.

9:45 am: Phone call #4 from friend: I’m starting a new business and want to go over the entire plan with you right now . . .

10:00 am: Phone call #5 from another friend: OMGeeeee, can you believe this? . . .

10:30 am: Shower

10:32 am: Ellen calls

Erin: You ALWAYS call during my shower. No matter what time I take it. I’m pretty sure I lose minutes of my life EVERY day looking for the hidden cameras.

Ellen: Melodramatic much? But you are missing the forest for the trees. WHAT do I tell you every time you get out of the shower to answer the phone?

Erin: That just because the phone rings, doesn’t mean I have to pick it up?

Ellen: You do listen to me! Just because someone invites you down a rabbit hole does not mean you have to tumble down it. If you want that hour, but really, if you NEED that hour, don’t let any summoning ringtone draw you away from it.

Erin: Noted. But pot, this kettle is calling you black.

Ellen: I know. Mine is even worse because it’s a silent Siren song: social media. I solemnly vow to put my money where my mouth is and record my time down the Facebook/Twitter/Pinterest/Instagram rabbit hole. I’ll probably find enough time to go to Starbucks, practice yoga, AND knit you a scarf.

Now go find your own hour and tell us what you’re going to do with it!

This post is part of our paid partnership with The Century Council’s #TalkEarly to your kids about alcohol campaign, but all opinions and time diaries are our own. We want you to find healthy ways to manage your stress because sighing, “It’s been a hard day, Mommy needs her wine,” could send the wrong message to your kids. Alcohol can be part of responsible celebrations, but it shouldn’t be the answer to stress.

-Ellen and Erin

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10 Reasons March Makes Us Stabby

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Spring has clearly missed the on-ramp this year. Why are we still getting snowed in, on, and around??

Erin: March is in like a lion, out like a lamb, and all that.

Ellen: Well, I’m ready for some lamb chops. It’s been especially brutal this year.

Erin: Grrr! It makes me stabby. Like Brutus.

Ellen: Nice Ides of March reference.

Erin: I guess we could take comfort that we’re not having as bad a March as Caesar did. There’s that.

Ellen: Et tu, Brute? Let’s swing this shamrock back to the 21st century.

10 Reasons March Makes Us Stabby

1) Chores Multiply Exponentially

March dials it up a notch. Now in addition to the massive amount of spring cleaning inside, it’s time to cut back the bushes and clear the detritus from the flowerbeds outside too. We could probably hear March maniacally laughing, but in this thirty degree weather we’re wearing earmuffs to pull weeds. Probably best to just leave it for the kids to do during summer break anyway.

2) Schizoid Wardrobe

Oh March, you are one wild and crazy girl! One day we have to pile on the sweaters and the next we’re looking for a tank top. And footwear? Fuggedaboutit! Can you please just let us pack away the snow pants and mittens? We call mercy!

3) Hokey Holidays

St. Patty’s Day? Who is this holiday really for? Preschoolers and college kids, that’s who. If you’re not making glittered shamrocks or guzzling whiskey and green beer, what’s really the point? Besides, true Irish girls drink whiskey every day of the year. Or so we’ve heard.

4) It’s cold

That damn groundhog is on our hit list. Brrrrrrrr. Everyone is cold, cranky, and stabby. We are over these blocks of ice we call feet. Truly.

Source: wqad.com via Sisterhood on Pinterest

5) Calendar Clustermuck

Winter sports are not over and spring sports have already begun. Have you seen our complicated calendars?? You’re hitting us where it hurts, March. We are not happy and we’re taking names.

6) Early Easter

We don’t mind wearing sweaters over our Easter best, but we would rather not have to don the old parkas too. Who wants an Easter picture where the kids look like they’re hitting the slopes instead of hunting for eggs?

7) Daylight Savings Time Blues

Our more seasoned internal clocks don’t spring forward like they used to. We can’t fall asleep an hour early that first night, and it’s all downhill from there. By the end of the week, we’re the crazy ladies in the supermarket talking to our tomatoes. And our kids? Shudder.

8) Confused Cart

When you have de-icer and grass seed snuggled together in your cart, even the checkout girl at Home Depot knows you’ve got problems.

9) The Dreadmill

Running on a treadmill in a gym is about as fun as . . . well, as fun as being jerked around by March and her fickle, fickle ways.

10) Did we mention we’re cold??

And so over it. Summer is our time to shine. Bring on the flip-flops, please. Or, at the very least, lose the freezing temps.

But it’s not all moaning and groaning, there is one thing we both LOVE about March:

March Madness

The drama, the brackets, the Cinderella stories, we love it all! But like the rest of March, it comes with a punch.

And this year has been no exception. If your brackets aren’t already in the recycling bin like ours, we need to talk, because you clearly have some connections we might find useful.

Source: heavy.com via Sisterhood on Pinterest

Here’s hoping Spring weather truly is right around the corner.

Please don’t fool us April.

Click the link to read some other great posts over at Monday Listicles!

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1. Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell

2. Bad Monkey by Carl Hiassen

3. Prodigal Summer: A Novel by Barbara Kingsolver

4. The Lowland by Jhumpa Lahiri

5. Maine by J. Courtney Sullivan

If you are dreaming of summer like us, you might want to check out our:

Better Books for the Bottom of Your Beach Bag,

Mo’ Better Books for the Bottom of Your Beach Bag,

and Summer Books for Tweens and Teens

and even more books for them.

-Erin and Ellen

Winning ALL of the Olympic Gold at Sochi: Motherhood

Curling

Skiathlon

Figure Skating

Ice Dancing

Luge

Speed Skating

Ice Hockey

-Ellen and Erin

-Erin

Lazy Girl’s Black Bean Cream Cheese Dip

Ellen’s Buffalo Chicken Dip

The Smartest Crock Pot Pulled Pork

Crispy Colorful Vinaigrette Coleslaw

Some Kind Of Awesome Creamy Chicken Salsa Soup

Oreo and Peanut Butter Brownie Bites

May the Odds Ever Be in the Favor of the Team You Want to Win!

(Our teams are out of it so we can be generous like that.)

-Ellen and Erin

Stages of Amtrak Hypothermia

Stage 1

Stage 2

Stage 3

Stage 4

Stage 5

Stage 6

Stage 7

Stage 8

Stage 9

Stage 10

RESCUE!

May your travels be warmer and less eventful.

-Ellen and Erin

1) The Gift of Experience

2) The Gift of Tradition and Time Together

3) The Gift of Memory

4) The Gift of Acknowledgment

5) The Gift of Each Other

A merry, merry last week of Christmas!

Erin and Ellen

Peace and good will to all this holiday season!

-Erin

Peace and good will to all this holiday season!

A Day in the Life of Erin

Now go find your own hour and tell us what you’re going to do with it!

-Ellen and Erin

1) Chores Multiply Exponentially

2) Schizoid Wardrobe

3) Hokey Holidays

4) It’s cold

5) Calendar Clustermuck

6) Early Easter

7) Daylight Savings Time Blues

8) Confused Cart

9) The Dreadmill

10) Did we mention we’re cold??

But it’s not all moaning and groaning, there is one thing we both LOVE about March:

March Madness

The drama, the brackets, the Cinderella stories, we love it all! But like the rest of March, it comes with a punch.

And this year has been no exception. If your brackets aren’t already in the recycling bin like ours, we need to talk, because you clearly have some connections we might find useful.

Here’s hoping Spring weather truly is right around the corner.

Please don’t fool us April.

2. B ad Monkey by Carl Hiassen