Judge Not

Yesterday, I was on my way home from a playdate with Mister Man. We'd stayed longer than I originally intended, and it was rush hour as we drove back. I avoided one of the major areas of traffic in town and took a side street to get back to the main divided highway. As I got to the stoplight to turn left onto that highway, the emergency light over the stoplight turned on.

I watched a fire chief vehicle go speeding north and a small firetruck followed shortly thereafter. As I finally got my light, I turned left and proceeded in the same direction that the fire vehicles had gone. No biggie. I saw a Black Mercedes SUV come roaring up behind me and pass me going at least seventy in the fifty-five zone. I shook my head in disgust and continued on my way.

For about a half mile. At that point, all traffic stopped, which I assumed was just par for the course on a Friday afternoon. I saw the SUV drive onto the shoulder and keep speeding along. I sighed out loud and told Mister Man that I sure hoped that this car was hurrying because they had a connection to an accident ahead and not because they were simply that rude.

We sat in that spot for almost twenty minutes. In that time, I saw another firetruck and an ambulance come up to the left of us and passed on. I started to realize that yes, there was an accident up ahead. Then I saw another firetruck and two more ambulances stream by a couple minutes apart. Going north in the southbound lanes so they could go more quickly. Yikes.

There was not an option to turn around, as the divided highway had a big ditch between the north and southbound lanes. And given where I was on the road, there wasn't a side road for another three quarters of a mile or more.

Eventually we started to inch forward. Very slowly. I finally got to a cross street where I could see that the police had blocked off all the northbound lanes and were finally funneling onto the side streets. As I turned right, I could see the black Mercedes parked on the side of the road and empty.

My heart sank. While I selfishly was hoping that the person wasn't simply being rude, I didn't truly wish pain on him in hoping that he was related to someone involved in the accident. And it was a bad one. I could see the burned out shell of the car down in the ditch, and two ambulances were loading patients in them. I couldn't see much more.

My guess is that someone was coming from the side street where there is only a stop sign and was trying to either turn left or cross the divided highway and misjudged where oncoming traffic was and was t-boned into the ditch. Other people were picking up large pieces of cars -- bumpers, etc.

I said a small prayer as I headed on home via backroads. I finally got back to the other major street near me and headed west towards home. I got to the final stoplight before my neighborhood and saw the emergency light turn on. I watched an ambulance come streaking up and head to the hospital I had just passed. It had to have been from the accident I had been trapped by earlier.

I was happy to see that the lights were flashing and the ambulance was hurrying, as it meant that at least one person was only injured. I also realized that the small two minute stop I had made on my way home that had delayed me slightly may have been more beneficial than I thought.

It so easily could have been my car involved. Was my stop the reason that I wasn't two minutes ahead and part of the awful crash? Was my last minute instinct to see if a business was open (it wasn't) what saved me and Mister Man from tragedy?

And the next time I see a car streaking around me hurrying for what I had always assumed was no good reason, I will be saying a small prayer that everything is alright with them. And my assumption will be that they need to hurry more than I do.



PS When you are driving and come to a stop, please PLEASE don't block roads and driveways and business entrances. You aren't going to get anywhere any faster by being eight feet forward, and anyone who wants to needs to get in and out cannot. Isn't that such a simple way to make life easier for so many people? Plus, I'll like you more if you let people get through.

She Has An Active Fantasy Life

As we were walking from the library through the parking lot, I gave the wee ones my usual lecture about dangers of the parking lot.

We talk about how we need to hold an adult's hand and always look both ways before crossing. I've tried starting to add the bit about how if a car has a stop sign, you can sort of look to make sure they're slowing down and then proceed. As long as you're holding an adult's hand.

The wee ones know the dangers of being hit by a car, and they excitedly shout them out to me -- ok, excitedly is probably the wrong word to use here.

You might get hit by a car!

Something might get broken....

You might die!

You might never be able to ride your bike again!

And then Little Miss turns to me -- oh so seriously -- But, Mommy, if I were in the middle of the street and a car was coming towards me and would hit me, I would just twirl around in a circle and then spin a web at the car.

And what exactly would that do, Sweetheart?

It would stop the car. And then it wouldn't hit me. She looked at me like I was nuts for even having to ask. *sigh*

Yeah... as much as I love to encourage the imagination of the wee ones, I think it's time to start reining hers in. Just a little.

I've Been Trumped

As I sit here watching my husband watch baseball for some unknown team on his computer, I smile.

I always thought I was a sports fan. I haven't missed a Northwestern football game since I started attending school there. I never turn down a ticket to a baseball or hockey game. Heck, I can even tell you when you do and don't have icing called in a game.

But my husband? He's a whole different breed. To me, baseball just isn't a fun sport to watch on tv. If I'm doing something, I'm fine with a baseball game being on in the background, but I won't turn it on as a solo activity.

My husband cheers for the Cardinals. Let me tell you, the Cardinals are not one of the teams playing on his computer. And yet he's engrossed. He's learned to have his earplugs in because after too many years of baseball 24/7 for eight months, I can only stand baseball for two or three games a year now.

He's trying so hard to be quiet, but out of the corner of my eye, I can see him failing. He's waving his arms in the air above his head in celebration before realizing what he's done and pretending he's just stretching. He wrings his hands together before nonchalantly scratching his nose. A yesssssssssss escapes every once in awhile.

And each time, I look at him and giggle. He gives me a helpless look, but then it's back to the ballgame.

I finally asked him who he was watching. It was the Twins. That's my team. I'm the one who cheers for the Twins, who can tell you the 1987 batting order, who bought the wee ones all theri baseball gear. But ... I don't care anymore. I don't even ask him the score.

But I'm not hopeless. I can tell you that football starts late this year. That the first weekend of September is still preseason. That counts for something, doesn't it?

Can He Say That?

I bet y'all thought I wasn't going to post anything today. It's been a long day working, and choir practice went extra long tonight what with Maundy Thursday tomorrow, Good Friday services the day after, the Easter Vigil on Saturday, and two Easter services Sunday morning. I'll say it again -- I don't remember signing up for this when I agreed to sing in the choir!

But choir practice did have one benefit. Our choir director reminded us of an entertaining occurence from the service on Sunday.

We were supposed to start outside on Palm Sunday in the garden with a greeting and then process into the church singing and following behind a donkey. But there was no donkey. We processed without him, as it was too cold for us to even think of waiting for him.

The reverend made a comment after the blessing about how the donkey was on his way but was late. If we were lucky, maybe the donkey would make it in time for Communion, at which point the reverend made his way back to the altar.

And as he passed the choir director, the choir director said in a stage whisper, "What an ass!" Needless to say, the poor reverend was biting his lip and we're still not sure how he kept a straight face. None of us in the choir did.

Tasty Tuesday!

In all the giving that I've done to my church through the choir, offetories, Sunday School, and more, there is one thing that has made it all worthwhile. Aside from the obvious, of course.

One of my fellow choir member was in charge of the social hour a month or so ago and made the most delicious cake. And it was dairy free naturally without being switched up. We all loved it, and I made it again this weekend. Unfortunately, some people in my house thought it was good for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, so I didn't get any pictures of it!

It's really a great cake and so easy to throw together. Find this type of recipe and more with this week's Tempt My Tummy Tuesday with Blessed With Grace! I have found so many yummy recipes. I didn't manage to do it this week, but if I have time next week, I'll share my favorites that I've made so far.

Chocolate Chip Applesauce Cake

Ingredients:
1/2 c oil
1 1/2 c sugar
2 eggs, beaten
2 c applesauce
2 c all-purpose flour
1 1/2 t baking soda
1/2 t cinnamon
1/2 t salt
3 T cocoa powder
2 T sugar
1/2 c chopped nuts (which I would never put into a recipe because I simply don't do nuts)
1 c chocolate pieces (orrrrr possibly more if you accidentally spill some on the cake -- just accidentally, of course)

Directions:
Mix the oil and the 1 1/2 c sugar. Beat in the eggs. Stir in cinnamon, salt, applesauce, baking soda and cocoa. Add the flou and mix until just moistened.

Pour mixture into a greased and floured 13x9 pan.

Sprinkle with 2 T sugar, nuts (or not), and chocolate pieces. You can lightly stir this in or leave on top. I tend to leave it on top.

Bake at 350 degrees for 30 to 40 minutes. If it starts to brown too much on top, cover with foil -- but I've never found the need to do that.

If you really want to, you can serve it with a whipped cream garnish. Just sayin'....

Enjoy!

How Many Times Can We Celebrate Easter?

My neighborhood has a babysitting co-op, which is wonderful for so many reasons. It's given me great built-in friends with kids about the wee ones' ages. Whenever I need a sitter, no matter whether day or night, I have someone I trust -- for free! The moms have advised me on schooling decisions and helped me through my angst. And every year, they do an Easter Egg hunt.

Last year it was at my house, but after 45 children (no joke) in my house searching for eggs, eating pizza, and decorating cookies, I quietly didn't volunteer this year. Some other sucker -- I mean MOM -- graciously did.

Today was the big day, and the wee ones were excited. I, of course, got stuck at work and so didn't get home until five minutes after the event had started, so we were a bit late, but it was fine. They had a great time hunting for their dozen "hidden" eggs.

Little Miss did get a little upset once when someone beat her to the egg. She kept exclaiming, "But that was my egg! I saw it first!" Next year, I think she'll learn to move faster.



Once everyone had the requisite dozen eggs, we moved on to the cookie decorating. Yes, even Little Miss can decorate the cookies, as I brought special non-dairy cookies for her and some non-dairy icing that three other kids also needed to use. Yep, food issues are definitely becoming more common with almost one in ten kids in this group.

Little Miss did all her decorating all by herself.



She also did all her eating all by herself. In fact, she refused to decorate her second cookie until she'd finished eating her first. And she's a slow, deliberate eater....



Mister Man decorated his cookies, too. His focus was simply on getting enough frosting on the cookie so that he could get as many sprinkles and other decorations on it as possible! Typical Mister Man, he ate about half his first cookie and then asked to save the rest for later. Sometimes I wonder if he's really my kid!



At this Easter Egg hunt, the Easter Bunny always comes, too. The wee ones were sooooo excited when they saw him. They ran up to give hugs, and then I spent the next five minutes trying to get a single normal looking picture of them with the Easter Bunny. I never really succeeded.







At least the Easter Bunny knows how to pose!

And after today? On Friday we head to the local "mall" where the Easter Bunny is hanging out. Saturday is decorating eggs, with the Easter vigil at church providing everything from the blessing of the Easter baskets to more egg decorating. And on Sunday? It's the culmination of our celebration where we get to see what the bunny brought us.

I will admit that I heard that this year he's bringing Spiderman placemats and cups and activity books and other such things instead of the traditional candy. It's an interesting concept, don't you think?

Welcome, Spring!

Today is Palm Sunday. Next week is Easter, and in preparation for this, my church had its opening outside church where a donkey was to meet us and escort us inside for the processional.

Except that it was so cold that half the parishioners refused to go outside. And the donkey never showed. But it was still a neat idea.

Today was also Mister Man's first t-ball practice.

What, you say he has a broken arm? You say he can't play because he's in a cast? Well, yeah... I know. But I sorta forgot that he had a broken arm when I signed him up. I blame too little sleep.

I've thought about it though. Technically, he can still throw the ball, and he can learn the rules and hang out with his teammates before he's fully cleared to play. He won't be able to bat, I don't think, but that's only for a few weeks. And with laid back t-ball, I can help him practice in the field by handing him the ball when it comes his way so he can throw it in.

I've also found out that they pretty much stack the infield so there's got to be another kid nearby who can help out during games. And come April 14, his cast comes off and he's allowed to play a week or two after that. No big deal.

Today was the big day though when he was to have his first practice. I was all set for it, including having my camera with me so that I can take pictures of him on that first day. We knew that one of his buddies from preschool last year was going to be on the team, as was a buddy from school this year. That makes it even more fun.

My husband decided that being the man in the house, he wanted to take Mister Man to the practice since his baseball game had been canceled due to concerns over sleet and snow in the forecast -- and the fact that the fields they play one were still wet from rain earlier in the week.

Nothing against my husband, but I'm definitely going. So we all packed up, including Little Miss who really needed a nap, and we headed out.

Did I mention the weather forecast? You know, the sleet and one to three inches of snow tonight, with an additional one to three inches tomorrow expected? And the gusty winds? And the 36 degrees?

Mister Man's practice was -- fortunately -- canceled. Instead, we were to meet at a local pizza parlor and get to know each other and let the coach know shirt sizes since apparently the shirts get names on the backs and hats get names embroidered in them. Fancy!

We arrived at the pizza place, and it was apparent that the restaurant was closed. Ugh. There was one car in the parking lot that looked like it was changing a tire. We pulled into the parking lot anyway, hoping that I could get ahold of the coach and find out plan B. Luckily, the car that was getting a tire changed was the coach, and they just had the bat case sitting out by the rear of the car and a batting helmet on the front hood so we'd recognize it as part of the t-ball team. Obviously that didn't work so well for me.

Plan B was heading to the local Pizza Hut where we ummm ate at the buffet (I can't really say enjoyed, can I?). Mister Man was thrilled to see his buddies and was almost too excited to eat anything. We got the rules, and we also found out some more good news -- for us anyway.

The coach is out of town for Easter next week. When we're supposed to have our next practice. We likely won't practice until the 16th or later, which means Mister Man will have his cast off. Rockin'!

You've really got to hate it when you try to put together a submission for Mother Of The Year and fate conspires against you so that your entry become almost meaningless, eh?