Growing Pains

It's the beginning of May, and because I live in the Garden State, it's time to get the garden going. I was raised in a house where gardening wasn't optional. There was no excuse not to have a garden. If we lived in an apartment (you have windows!), or a house (postage stamp yard is big enough!), we were growing something. My grandfather was the master gardener in my family. He used to let me tag along with him while he worked his masterpiece. I can remember him turning over the dirt and excitedly telling me his plans for the coming years' planting blue-prints, or picking me up so I could reach the tomatoes on his 8' tall plants. Even as a little girl I knew that earthworms were your friend, and I loved finding them and letting them wriggle through my fingers back into the overturned soil. To this day, I love the smell of rich soil. Gardening brings me closer to those memories and in its own way heals me like nothing else can. There's something so satisfying about literally seeing the fruits of your labors. How many aspects of my job as a mother are so frustrating because even though I know that I'm working hard for something so important, there's no real "finished" product. When raising children, there are small steps and you build towards a picture that is so big, there's really no day where you just sit back and say, "I'm done and it's good." At least, if there is that day, I'm nowhere near it. Gardening is great for the nurturer in me because there's a shorter end to my means. I work, I care for, I protect, I stay vigilant, and I will see results almost right away. Of course there's waiting so patience is required, but as a student in the school of patience, I know that it's worth it. The waiting is filled with an excited anticipation. There are disappointments too. I've had pests devour my hard work. I've fought wood chucks like Caddy Shack and found myself threatening winged insects with very strong words. Somehow, it's always worth it. For some reason, even after the hardest season, just one zucchini pie or if I'm lucky, a slew of raspberry jelly makes it worth it and I find myself digging the next Spring. Today was the day that I decided the digging should begin. When I lived in Bergen County I would start prepping in April. The weather is decidedly colder here so I start prep-work in the beginning of May and plant around Memorial Day Weekend. It was a rainy day and even though I had no motivation, I knew I wouldn't regret starting. I have a pretty large garden so I set small goals that I know I can reach. The biggest obstacle for me isn't the boulders in my rocky soil, or the limited time I have to dedicate to it, it's the space between my own two ears. Sometimes I just have to get to work, keep my head down and once in awhile, pick my head up to see how far I've gotten and then get right back to work. Doesn't that apply to so many things in life? Set a goal, put your nose to the grindstone, don't get overwhelmed at the size of the job and keep on working. Before you know it, the job is done and you have the satisfaction of knowing that you accomplished something.


Thanks to a milder than average Spring, my garden looks more like a jungle. I think the yellow flowers are part of a horse-radish plant.

One of two large piles of weeds and sunflower stalks cleared out by hand.

My goal today was to dig out 1/3 of my work area. I spotted a post, and got to it. Not bad for an hour's work.

Black earth...see the raspberry bushes already green?!

Rhubarb! I've downloaded over 300 rhubarb recipes...I've made about a dozen....

Future raspberry jelly!

Get dirty!

Needed waterproof gloves today...

Never too old to play in the dirt...

Who needs the gym?

And the Days Go By....

Have you ever stopped, looked around and said to yourself, "How the hell did I get here?" Sometimes I'm like the Talking Heads song.."This is not my beautiful house..this is not my beautiful wife." OK, so not wife, but you get what I mean. There's days where I feel that way in the best of ways. I'll be sitting on my porch, sipping a cup of coffee, looking out at my garden with the sun warming my bare toes and the breeze tinkling the wind chimes softly, and I think, "Wow, who has it better than I?"

Sometimes, as I'm driving in rush-hour traffic with 5 fighting kids, I really cannot, for the life of me, figure out how I ended up there. I tell myself it's a blessing even while I feel like it's some sort of punishment, or perhaps my mother's ultimate revenge manifesting right before my eyes ("I hope you have kids JUST LIKE YOU!").


Is it just me or are you where you thought you'd be at this point in your life? I can tell you that never in a million years did I think that at 35 years old, or ever for that matter, would I be a mother of 5 kids and make my meager living by teaching adults how to touch their toes and saying things like, "Be mindful of your breath and breathe into your belly. Feel it filling like a pink balloon." (yes, I really do get paid to say these things) or in my kids classes blowing bubbles and singing, "The Itsy Bitsy Spider". Sometimes in the middle of a spirited rendition of, "The Noble Duke of York" I have a real "wtf?" moment.



Or when I'm in the middle of an indoor water park in March watching the kiddies and I'm making mental shopping notes when I see certain skirted tankinis and feeling grateful that I didn't get that tribal tattoo and I wonder how it's possible to actually be having this internal conversation.


Do you know who I was supposed to be? I certainly thought I knew the answer to that when I was an 18 year old girl. I graduated in the top 5 of my high school class. I was 5'10" and about 120 lbs. I was going to college on a hefty scholarship and was going to study law. No, not just law, ENVIRONMENTAL LAW. I was going to be a lawyer and save the earth at the same time and look great in a power suit. After saving the earth I was going to write a novel and retire off of the royalties from my memoirs. If a husband and kids followed, that would be gravy.



So what happened? Well, here's where it gets a little complicated. Isn't this where we started? How the?..... Well, I can say that I made certain decisions that greatly altered my original plan. Or, I can say that certain situations presented themselves into my life without my input and I dealt with them as gracefully as I could. My personal favorite, is that I had a plan and God had another plan altogether. Sometimes I really believe that. I feel it in my core, that I am living the life that God had planned for me all along. Sometimes, I feel like I took God's plan for me and threw my will into it and it resulted in this life of mine that can be so difficult, sometimes beautiful, yet so hard I feel like I'm barely keeping my head above water. Was it supposed to be this hard? Was it supposed to be this beautiful?


So why is it that some days I feel like I'm trying to jam that proverbial square peg into the round hole and others I feel like my life fits me like a glove? Maybe there are more than one direction our life is supposed to take when our bodies are being knitted together and our souls know this. Then at some point in our life we come to a "crossroads" of sorts and we make a decision and our life heads in one of many potential directions. Leaving behind all of the other possibilities that once were.


Maybe it's as simple as having a tough day and letting your ego tell you that you're somehow better than suffering the mundane trials of life and all you really need to do is suck it up, find some gratitude and thank the Lord above for the life you have.

Spreading the Love!

I love this time of year, if only for the fact that we keep the kids out of sports in the winter so that we can take a breather between the insanity of Fall and Spring activities. It gives us the opportunity to do things as a family that we just can't fit into our busy schedules during the other seasons. Yesterday was just another Saturday that other people might take for granted, but for us it was fairly free and that meant it was deliciously open for anything to happen! With a relatively empty schedule (Bill still had 2 cars he's working on, the twins had a basketball free-throw comp., Char had a birthday party and there's never a shortage of housework for me...hey that's a free day in this house!), Bill took the boys with a group of dads and kids to see Star Wars Episode 1 in 3D. We rarely ever go to the movies as a family (multiply the $12 ticket by 7...ouch!), so this was a really great opportunity for them to have some "guy-bonding".



While the guys were meeting with Darth Maul, I had to come up with something for the girls and I to do. Sure, we could've vegged in separate rooms losing ourselves in various electronic media, but I wanted to spend some real time with my girls. Taking a note from my dear friend Mary, I decided we were going to practice hospitality and make Valentine treats to share. Gwen provided her ipod player and we listened to Sarah Jarosz as we rolled, stirred, and decorated to our hearts' content. Making sweet confections is such a great way to explore personal creativity while creating something that can fill someone with nourishment for their body and soul! When all was finished, I had the girls deliver some of the treats to our neighbors (who are the best, btw!). We cut up some of the marshmallow treats for Charlotte's class snack for Valentine's day (I'm class mom) and the rest have been a treat for us! Perhaps the best part is that my girls and I spent an afternoon together, creating something for others and making memories for ourselves.

Maddie Stirring the marshmallows

We use a whole stick of butter and a whole bag of Jet-Puffed Marshmallows!

No extra flour needed and no wasted dough when you use parchment paper to roll!


Sweet, but they need a little something!

A dash of love

A pinch of creativity

A ton of fun!

Gwen's vision

Maddie's labor of love

This has Charlotte written all over it!

Even I got to play!


Practicing Hospitality!

I Like Wine

It's a Tuesday...I'm seeing a trend here. It never ceases to amaze me the amount of crap (sometimes literally) that can get thrown at me in one day. Now, let me start this rant...er blog...with the disclaimer that yes, I know that no one in my immediate household is suffering from a severe illness, we have food in our bellies, a roof over our head, clothes on our backs...etc., etc. None of those very important facts are lost on me.

Today though, was so ridiculous, it was blog-worthy. A Murphy's day to go down in the annals of history. My day started with the usual blaring of multiple alarm clocks (I think we have 3 going in my bedroom alone right now...long story), rousing kids from slumber, feeding animals, feeding kids, packing backpacks...you get the picture. We hustle out to the clown car and as I suck down as much caffeine as I can, wishing that it would lift the fog from my head as fast as my defroster does to my windshield, Charlotte announces, "Mom, I have mud all over the back of my pants." This seems like it's very possible considering the almost foot of snow that we had merely 2 days ago, that was washed away by rain, coupled with Charlotte's amazing gracefulness. Mud, OK, we can handle mud. How much mud are we talking about here? I ask Jason to look to the backseat to assess the situation as I navigate the winding road down the mountain. He determines that it's enough mud to freak me out. Excellent, I'll deal with it when I reach her school which is almost 20 miles away. Maybe by then the mud will have dried and I can just brush it off. About 15 minutes later...."Mom, maybe it's not mud." Not mud you say? If it's not mud, then what could it be? At this point I'm flying down Rte. 287 at about 75 mph trying to make up for the 15 mph-guy I was stuck behind on the Hamburg Tpk. 287 is pretty much a straight road so I crane my neck around to look at the specimen. That does not look like mud. That looks like dog poop that somehow made its' way all over the back of my 5 year-old's pants. Excellent! I begin to white-knuckle the steering wheel as my OCD kicks in and I have to fight the urge to turn my car around and dunk my daughter in bleach. Chanting in my mind, "It's going to be OK, it's going to be OK, it's effing going to be OK!", I drop the teenager off and race to the elementary school where I can fully evaluate and deal with the situation. Charlotte at this point has begun to whimper out a string of apologies and I know it must be bad. As I open the door to my van, the 7 year-old announces that I forgot to remind him to bring his violin and am an irresponsible adult (or at least that's what I heard.) Get out of my car and go to your classroom... The silver lining in this is that the violin case was spared the dog poop bath that everything else in my van got. Now, I don't understand how this is physically possible, but my daughter managed to get doggy doo on her pants, the rug, the car seat, the booster seat, various books and toys that had fallen on the floor,and the back of my car seat. I'm sorry but (insert expletive)??!!! How do two little feet move that much and cover so much ground? I muttered all too loudly in the parking lock of my children's Christian school that we cannot afford and are just waiting for them to kick us out, "DAMMIT!" OK, breathe. Fast-forward to grubbing a change of clothes from the Kindergarten cubby, scrubbing two backpacks with cleaning solution, cleaning the faculty bathroom floor, and taking my car to my inlaw's so I could clean the mess and dispose of a garbage bag full of toys and books, and it's not even 8:30am yet!

OK, I can and will salvage this day. I'm off of work this week, let's go for a hike. I drove to Ramapo Reservation, put my ipod on a genious mix and had an amazing, refreshing hike. You see? I can take lemons, make lemonade and sell that lemonade and make a profit!

I pick up the pooper trooper and head to a friend's for lunch before dancing school. We have a lovely lunch. It's parent's observation day today at dance and I get to see the clumsy, poop-spreading imp totally redeem herself as the cutest little ballerina ever. I get to giggle as I watch her feeble attempts at tucking in her tush while she pliets. Of course, I have to leave a 1/2 hr. early to see my twins participate in their wax museum at school, so blow a kiss to Swan Lake and run to the Middle School. I walk in to a child being carried out because he fainted during his presentation. Wow, someone is having a bad day, but it's not me! I professionally execute the act of spreading myself thin, tell my daughters what a wonderful job they did and fly back to the elementary school to pick up the 7 year-old and reunite with Princess tutu.

Princess Tutu is playing on the playground. Princess Tutu falls into the biggest mud puddle I have ever seen. I make Princess Tutu clean her hands in the pile of snow. At first it's because my brain cannot even fathom how we are going to handle a mess of this magnitude, and then I continue to tell her to do it out of spite. Thankfully I had washed the first set of pants ruined today and find myself back in that faculty bathroom. This time there's mulch and water involved. Undergarments are soaked, jackets, socks.....fingers are frost-bitten and tushies are getting pruny. I once again go to that Kindergarten cubby and take a pair of undergarments and strip my graceful ballerina. This time the faculty bathroom walls and sink need to be scrubbed. I laugh. This can only happen to me. Ha ha, he, he. Silly little life of mine. Enter eye twitch.

Gather younger kids, tell them that we aren't playing on the playground until the next drought so don't even ask, and fly over to the high school to pick up the teenager. Sit in parking lot for 20 minutes texting feverishly, "We're here....Where are you?" Find out that he has play practice and will be done at 5pm. Excellent! I haven't been home since 7:20am, let's go to Grandma's! Run there, run out to get the twins from tutoring. Drop one twin off at dance, she falls. I laugh. Maybe I'm starting to snap at this point. Drop other twin at Grandma's, realize 7 year-old who I left doing homework is on the same page and has now doodled all over said page. Correct his errors, make him erase doodles, and get text from teenager that practice will run past 5. No problem, now I can breathe for a second. Get text 2 seconds later, nope 5 it is. OK, run out. Make left into the high school parking lot, "Mom, don't hate me. Practice is till 5:30" Excellent. Sit in car with engine off, freeze my arse off and wait. Pick up teenager, barely speak to him, drop him off at Grandma's and head to see the middle schooler dance. Sit through that for 1/2 hr. then run to pick up other middle schooler so that we can go to Christian girlscouts where I am in charge of even more children. Albeit, most of them are other people's children.

My day is almost done, it's a craft night, so all I have to do is help a bunch of pre-pubescent girls stick seed beads onto 65 safety pins. I find a sick satisfaction when they complain of pricking their fingers as they bead the pins. Instead of laughing at them, I use this as a teachable moment, "Good things come through hard work girls. Just think how proud you can be of yourselves when your craft is done!" Girls grumble curses (Christian curses of course) under their breaths. Walk over to my daughters' table and hear my sweet, sweet little girl telling the entire 5th grade about how her mother had her brother before she was married. Now, this isn't a skeleton in my closet per se, but not exactly something you want the 5th grade girls in your Christian girlscouts group to know about you. I can imagine the conversations at their homes tonight, "Did YOU KNOW that Mrs. Van Goor had a baby out of WEDLOCK?!!" Or whatever 5th graders can take away from this excellent bit of information. It's at this point that I text my husband and inform him that I don't want to see a child for at least 10 hrs. straight from the moment I walk in the door tonight.

As I write this, I'm about 2/3's of a way through a very full glass of Merlot that my husband poured from me the moment that I entered the door (he's a smart man). I wish that I had a positive little spin to tie this story up with. You know, something about silver linings, or that stupid lemonade analogy. I don't. I do know, however, that in the grand scheme of life, this is the small stuff. They say, don't sweat the small stuff. So what do you do when there's so much small stuff it drowns you like a tick trapped in a box full of packing peanuts? Well, you can pray. You can breathe deeply. You can count your blessings. You can pour your heart out to someone. You can ask your husband to pour you a glass of wine. You can go to bed knowing that today is not the worst day you will have, but it's definitely not the best day. It's OK to say that today just sucked. I'm going to go with that. Today sucked, tomorrow is a new day, and I like wine.

Chicken with Gorgonzola and Bacon

It's the end of October and believe it or not, snow showers are in the forecast. This weather always makes me want to try new recipes to warm my home and my family's tummies! It is a variation of a recipe that I tweaked to make it easier and a little healthier (a little, like a smidge).



The recipe calls for 3 slices of bacon, fried and crumbled. I opted for an applewood smoked bacon that had no preservatives. The original recipe calls for bone-in, skin-on chicken breast. I decided to get a pack (about 1.5 lbs.) of free-range, organic boneless/skinless chicken breasts. I pounded them out thin (therapeutic!). Meanwhile, in a small bowl I mixed a stick of softened butter (original recipe calls for 2 sticks!), the bacon, and 2 chopped shallots (original recipe called for chives, which I have in my garden but it was too cold and rainy to pick them!).




I then sprayed a small glass baking dish with canola oil. Taking a spoonful of the butter mixture I spread it over the flattened chicken breast and rolled it up. I then cut the cutlet roll in half (otherwise they'd be huge) and lay them single layer in the baking dish. I then sprinkled a little bit of salt and pepper on the chicken. Everything tastes better with garlic so I crushed one clove of fresh garlic over the top of the chicken and drizzled the tiniest amount of olive oil over the garlic so it wouldn't brown. I baked it for about 40 minutes in a 350 oven. Served with wild rice and asparagus it was delicious! The kids would have preferred a different cheese (had to hold their nose with the Gorgonzola!), but ate it nonetheless. A bonus to this recipe is that there was a bunch of the butter/bacon/cheese left to roll in plastic wrap into a log and freeze for another use. If that's not your thing, you could 1/2 the butter-mix portion of the recipe. Bon Appetit!

My "sister"....

OK, so really, I have just one sibling.....a brother. I love my brother. He's become one of my closest friends over the years and he and I can laugh and share personal jokes that no one else would ever find quite as funny. But through the miracle of marriage (miracle?), I've gained something (or someone) that I've always wanted. A sister. Actually, two sisters. I just spent a little over a week with my sister-in-law Annie, so I thought I'd share a little about her. I will be seeing my sister-in-law Kristin next weekend and she'll be my next victim...er subject.

Eleven plus years ago, Bill and I got married and one person who was missing from our wedding was Bill's brother Keith. My brother-in-law Keith was part of a relay team for Calvin College and his relay team couldn't do without him that particular weekend. I had mixed feelings about this situation at the time. I have particularly strong feelings about running. (For more information check out my facebook status a few days ago). Well, that day, Keith went to that track meet and he met the woman who would become my very first sister, Annie. For that reason alone, him missing my wedding was completely worth it. I was no longer the only girl (besides my mother-in-law) in the all-boys club of the Van Goor household.

Annie and I have been mistaken as actual sisters. She's about the same height as I am, has curly hair, and well, we kind of look alike! We share a love of the Lord, family, outdoors, books, blogs, cooking and fitness to name a few. We have similar ideas about raising our children and what is important as a mom.

We also have a bunch of differences. Annie is more soft-spoken than I (not too hard to do, I know). She is a far more patient woman than I am. She separates her laundry (that one's for you Bill!). She is more adventurous in life than I am. Oh and here's a big one...she's one of the fastest women in the nation and loves to run!

I've learned so much about being a good Christian and a good mother from her. She sets the bar higher for me and is an example of who I'd like to emulate. Did I mention that she also made me an Aunt?! I was over the moon when I became an aunt and it takes every ounce of control not to totally freak out my niece and nephew who only see me once or twice a year and smother them with hugs and kisses.

Every time it's time for us to say, "Goodbye," I admit that I get choked up. She's become such a big part of my heart and I can't believe how blessed I am to have her in my life. I'm counting down the days till our trip out to Ohio in November so that I can spend time giggling with her, and connecting over things that are unique to us. I also look forward to the lessons that she teaches me and marvel over how much of a sister this girl, who I've only known for 10 years has become to me.

Summertime...time...time....

August is upon me and I find myself sitting on my porch, listening to a little Janis, sipping some red wine and watching the rain. What better time than this to reflect, er blog?

I can still smell the coco nutty Hawaiian Tropics oil (thank you Hawaiian Tropics, btw for the annual trip to the dermatologist) slathered on me and putting Sun-in in my hair while the Eagle's, "Take it Easy" played on the radio. We had a postage stamp of a property but it had a big ol' swimming pool with a big ol' cherry tree growing next to it. I'd swim in that pool all day and though I never did master climbing that cherry tree, I'd eat those cherries every chance I got. I loved summertime. Bike rides to the park, running to the ice cream truck (red, white and blue snow cones for me), catching lightening bugs (for some reason they weren't fire flies), charcoal BBQ's (what's propane?)that burnt my hot dogs just right, wearing wooden clogs and terry-cloth shorts jumpsuits with the white piping on the sides. Summertime meant staying out past dark. It meant swimming till all I could smell was chlorine and my fingers were pruney. It meant beach towel/lawn chair tents. It meant wrapping myself in a towel and playing Pac Man on grandma's shag rug. It meant talking into the fan to hear my voice transformed...Trips "down the shore"....floating around on a raft endlessly.....I can remember the family BBQ's and suppers from Rick's Fish. There was always lots of food and lots of laughs. Days riding my banana-seat bike over heat-wavy pavement and cooler evening games of kickball in the street. Dancing around my grandparent's kitchen table with the rest of my crazy family to Eddy Grant's, "Electric Avenue." Sleepovers at Star's and our Cabbage Patch kids....Mr. Sirotnik lining that big hole in his backyard with plastic and filling it with water and swimming in it even though we had a pool next door! Scratching mosquito bites and putting x's in them with my nails so they'd stop itching.

August dragged on so hot and so long back then. Now, it seems to just fly past in a blink of an eye. I find myself consciously creating "memories" for my kids, hoping that one day they will look back just as fondly as I do, on their endless summers. I had the unique situation where my school was literally just beyond the fence in my backyard and inevitably, at some point, every August, I'd be floating around on that inner tube and a breeze would shift the leaves in such a way that I could feel fall creeping in. I could hear the voices of the ghosts in the empty high school hallways and knew that summer was slipping away. Then Tears for Fears, "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" would come on and I'd close my eyes and push those thoughts away and just drift around carelessly, never knowing just how fleeting that time would be.