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Using TiffinTalk to Spark Meaningful Conversations

If you’re like me, the conversation with your kids after school goes like this:

Me: Hey honey! How was your day?

Katie: Good.

Me: Great! What did you do today?

Katie: We did (insert any school activity here).

Me: Oh that sounds interesting. Did you enjoy it?

Katie: Sure.

Me: Oh, okay. Anything else exciting happen today?

Katie: No.

Sound familiar, or does this just happen in my house?

What I’ve found is that as my daughter has gotten older, our conversations have become really bland and boring. There were days when they were filled with imagination and wonder, but now, it’s a standard script that rarely changes.

That’s why I was excited to try TiffinTalk with her. I don’t volunteer for every blogger promotional opportunity presented to me because I’m not going to promote a product I’m not going to use. (Hey, I’ve made my reputation on keeping it real. I’m not going to jeopardize that for some free swag!)

But TiffinTalk intrigued me. I loved the idea of a daily question card I could use with my daughter to open up a dialogue and get her talking about more than the mundane.

I expected that I would find the system impressive. What I didn’t expect, was how much she would love it too!

We’ve had some rocky moments over the last couple weeks. (I haven’t blogged about them, but did talk about it on a podcast episode.) And even on the night when the stuff really hit the fan, she was quick to ask if we would still do her card. And we did, and had a great conversation because of it.

The premise is simple, and to me, the questions seem random. But they aren’t. They get your child thinking in a way that don’t usually think. They get them talking about things beyond what they did or how they did it. They open up a dialogue about things you probably wouldn’t have talked about without the card.

For my daughter and I, the TiffinTalk box has now become part of our evening routine. We sit together on her bed, pick out the day’s card, and talk about the questions on it. It’s a great way to end the day!

 

This is a sponsored post brought to you by Real Mom Media. The opinions are completely my own based on my personal experience.

History and Hands-On Learning at Tuckerton Seaport

I love a good day trip! Living near Philadelphia there is always the option to explore many interesting places within less than two hours of my home. From Amish Country to the Poconos to the Jersey Shore, all are just a short drive away!

Last week my two younger children were off having an adventure at their Grandparents leaving me with some much needed one-on-one time with my oldest. If you follow my blog, you know my oldest son Bobby has an intellectual disability along with other special needs. He too loves a good road trip and exploring new places, so we packed a lunch, and headed to New Jersey to check out Tuckerton Seaport.

Tuckerton Seaport, located in Tuckerton, NJ is a 40-acre site made up of historic and recreated buildings, hands-on learning and historic exhibits, nature trails, and much more. They have regularly hosted demonstrations and artisan events, a calendar of which is located on their website.

The main entrance brings you into a reception area and the gift shop. Guests can then head upstairs to the “Life on the Edge” exhibit and Jacques Cousteau National Estuarine Research Reserve. The first stop is a four-minute movie to teach you about the estuaries, a term I hadn’t thought much about since an environmental science class I took in college 20 years ago. The short video was a great reminder about how important the estuary system is to our environment.

From there, the room is filled with wonderful interactive exhibits ready for hands-on learning about the animals and ecosystem. Bobby wasn’t that into it, but I was! Some of the features included a close up look at the organisms inside a drop of water and another that taught you how to guess the age of a fish! I plan to bring my daughter back to check it out. She loves science and animals, so this will be a great place for her to visit!

We took the elevator down and headed for the bottom floor where there were more hands-on learning activities including a children’s craft area and a chance to see some of the animals that live in the bay in an aquarium. We took a look around, colored a picture of a chicken, and then headed outside.

A boardwalk takes you around the seaport area. My son enjoyed watching the ducks and geese in the water, and then was happy to see the petting zoo area with a goat and a sheep. We stopped and said hello to the animals and then continued to mosey on our way to the lighthouse.

The lighthouse building is home to the Baymen Maritime Museum. Bobby pulled me quickly through the exhibits, so I didn’t get a chance to take in all the history. (Another reason to go back!) But I was able to read a few of the signs and was amazed at how much this little seaport had been a part of American history. For example, Tucker Island was home to the first resort on the Jersey shore! Who knew?!

The two levels of the museum are accessible with an elevator, but to get to the top, you have to climb some stairs. Bobby is capable of climbing stairs, although the metal spiral staircase used for the final ascent to the top did confuse him a bit at first, but he figured it out.

Tuckerton Lighthouse

And then my boy was in heaven. Bobby loves a lot of things, but at the top of the list are sunshine, water and wind! There was a blue sky, nice breeze, and perfect view of the water. He was in heaven! We did a few laps around the lookout and then carefully made our way back down.

We went to the car and grabbed our food and sat at the picnic tables to enjoy lunch al fresco. I later asked the ladies in the gift shop if food would be available during the summer months, and confirmed that a restaurant is coming soon to the property. But for now, pack your lunch, or plan to head to one of the restaurants around the town of Tuckerton.

Before we left, I asked about a few upcoming events that looked interesting. On May 6th is TRUCKerton Food Truck and Brew Fest where attendees can expect food and fun from over a dozen food trucks from all over the East Coast, as well as craft beers and live music. I’m thinking of taking my daughter back then because we both love a good food festival! Plus, she’ll have the chance to learn about the estuary too. Gotta love when you can combine a little education with delicious food!

Also coming up is the Seafood and Music festival on June 24th and 25th. This sounds like a lot of fun because live music and good seafood are two of my favorite things! I’m told there will be fresh clams, crabs, scallops and shrimp from the finest local seafood purveyors, and it also will feature local craft beers. Hmm, sounds like another good time for a family day trip!

After chatting with the ladies in the gift shop, Bobby and I headed home. I was impressed! Tuckerton Seaport does a great job of finding fun ways to get kids involved in learning. I’m looking forward to going back for another visit soon!

This is a sponsored post brought to you by Real Mom Media. The opinions are completely my own based on my personal experience.

Cocktails, Closets, and a No BS Mom Talk Podcast

You know that feeling when you make a new friend and you just click? That’s how I felt when I met Liz Small of Small Steps. We connected through my favorite networking group, bizzy mamas. I can’t tell you exactly what happened, but as we got to know each other more and more, we knew we destined to do great things together.

And by “great things” I mean drinking and cracking ourselves up in my closet.

Liz and I decided over drinks that we should start a podcast. I know NOTHING about podcasting, but I did know broadcasting back in the day, and that counts for something, right?

I also like to hear myself talk, which is helpful when recording a podcast.

So, we met for more drinks and discussed this new adventure, and we came up with the name Liz and Lynne on the Rocks. Why? Because life as a mom is rocky, and we enjoy a good cocktail, that’s why!

Our podcast launched a couple weeks ago and the feedback has been amazing! We are also bringing you a visual by going live on Facebook on Fridays around Noon for Cocktails in the Closet, which is where we chat about the week, talk about the show we’ll be recording and share our beverage of choice for that day.

Oh… you’re probably wondering why are we in the closet? Well, I only had one semi-good microphone, and the sound quality in other rooms of my house was even worse than what we’re producing in the closet, so we decided to create a makeshift studio in the closet, and then it took on a personality of it’s own. Because who hasn’t hid in the closet with a drink now and then? (It’s all good, we don’t judge, and neither should you.)

So check us out if you’re looking for something entertaining to listen to in the carpool line. New episodes weekly posted on Tuesdays! We’re currently on iTunes, SoundCloud and Spreaker, and hopefully coming to Stitcher and iHeartRadio soon!

Please note that we did earn ourselves an Explicit rating because sometimes we slip with the occasional curse word. We’re human, and we enjoy saying those words when our kids aren’t around, but you might not want to listen to us without headphones if yours are in the car or room.

Our show notes are available on our web page lizandlynne.com, so when we reference something during the podcast, you can get the information there.

Also, check out the amazing work my partner in closet drinking is doing over at Small Steps. She’s pretty awesome!

Finding my badass when I just feel bad (or like an ass)

Not going to lie, the first months of 2017 weren’t my best. I could list the series of unfortunate events that made me feel like a total failure as a mom, wife and friend lately, but why torture myself? Let’s just leave it at the fact that I wasn’t exactly living up to my self-given label of being a badass. I pretty much have just been bad. And on some days, I’ve just been an ass. But badassery was nowhere to be found.

The good news is that I recognized it. Losing my badassness is a sign to me that I’m losing myself, and that my depression and the negative voices in my head are taking over and blocking the joy in my life. And when those negative voices take over, the strong and encouraging ones that keep me at my badass best, fall silent.

When I see the fog of depression lurking and itching to take over my life, I have two choices: I can let it, and sink into that dark and scary place I’ve been to before. Or I can tell it to fuck off and start taking the steps to find my badass self again. The decision isn’t always as simple as it should be. Sinking is easy, moving through the fog is a lot of work.

Thankfully, I made the decision to do the work.

The first step for me is admitting that I’m in the fog… again. The voice in my head likes to remind me what a fuck-up I am for letting myself get here… again. (Like seriously, why didn’t you recognize you were heading in this direction a few months ago when it would have been easier to fix?) But despite that, I admit it, to myself, that I am, in fact, here… again.

Then it’s on to the next step – telling that voice in my head to go fuck itself. I don’t owe you, or anyone, an explanation. Shit happens, and I’m here. Deal with it.

(Just rereading that last paragraph tells me that my inner badass is still in there. Damn I missed her!)

Dealing with it is step three, which means asking for help. And for me this means reaching out to my therapist. That’s right folks, I got to therapy! Right now I go every-other week because that’s what I need to do. Because let’s be honest, telling myself I’ll figure this out on my own is just another lie from the voice in my head. It sounds like a fine idea, and logically I know that if I ate cleaner, exercised more, got outside more, wrote more, meditated more, and spent more time with friends, then yes, I probably could find my way out of the fog. But when I’m in the fog, despite all the logical things I know I should and could do, I don’t do them. Period. That’s why I need my therapist.

But why not just talk to your friends, Lynne?

I have some awesome, amazing, non-judging, totally supportive, kick-ass friends. But sometimes, you need a professional who will listen, won’t judge, but will call you out on your bullshit, and give you a plan for shutting down the negative voices so you can awaken the sleeping badass – because she’s still in there, I promise.

And the good news is that my sleeping badass is finally waking up!

She is still a little groggy from her long nap. (She probably needs more coffee.) But now that she’s back, I’m trying to take better care of her and keep her safe. She’s working on great things!

Back to the Mat: Restorative Yoga with Dana Falsetti

I haven’t set foot in a yoga studio in over a year. The last time I attempted a yoga class, I walked into a room full of skinny people wearing Lululemon, and felt completely out of place in my XL athletic wear from Target. I spent the entire class worrying about how awful I looked, how inflexible I was, and how everyone MUST be staring at me, and I never went back.

The last time I regularly practiced yoga was before the birth of my first child, more than 11 years ago. I did prenatal yoga two or three times a week and loved it. But then my son was born with all of his complications and challenges, and life happened, and more kids happened, and getting back to a yoga practice fell far down the priority list.

Last week, my friend Nikki, a local yoga teacher, posted on Facebook about her studio’s workshops with Dana Falsetti. I had seen Dana’s viral video a while back, and felt inspired to try yoga again, but seeing the post that she was coming to a studio less than three miles from my house is what finally got my ass back on the mat last night.

I signed up for the Restorative Yoga class because that sounded like the easiest of the three workshops being offered. I arrived early (yes, my notoriously late self showed up early) and selected a spot right across from Dana not knowing what to expect. I anxiously sat and waited for the class to begin.

Dana opened the class by sharing her story of how she came to find herself through yoga and start living an authentic life. Every word she said resonated and the tears began to come. Her message of authenticity and self-love is one I’ve heard many times, but it’s not one that I’m living.

My thoughts went back and forth between being inspired and being totally jealous because here she was with so much wisdom and confidence at 23, and here I am all jacked-up at 41. At 23, I was a mess. I had just come out of an abusive relationship. I was working an ungodly amount of hours for next to nothing. I was burned out and depressed and absolutely clueless about who I was. Meanwhile, here I am 18 years later and not much of that last sentence has changed.

After Dana’s talk, some Q&A and a few more tears, we got started with the poses for the evening. As I mentioned before, I selected the restorative yoga session because it seemed like it would be easy. And while I wasn’t stuck holding some shaky leg position for far too long or attempting a handstand, it was anything but easy for me.

The purpose of restorative yoga is to center your breath and body, aligning the physical and the mental, by practicing stillness for extended periods of time.

Stillness is not something that comes easy for my body or my mind.

As I settled into the first pose, my mind wandered from what was I going to post on Instagram about this experience, to this blog post, to wondering why I can’t quit eating carbs, and why my daughter won’t listen to me… I was all over the place.

Then I heard Dana’s voice, “If your mind starts to wander, bring it back to the mat.” Um, yeah, easier said than done.

My mind continued to wander… “I wonder if my feet smell funny to the person next to me. I should have faced the other direction. Why don’t I know what the hell I’m doing? Is she pissed that my feet are near her face? It’s crowded, so I hope she’s not pissed, but what if she is?”

We shifted to the other side for the second pose, again, the constant thought train, again, Dana’s voice, “If your mind starts to wander, bring it back to the mat.”

Ugh, it’s like she knows… okay, mind, back to the mat. “Is my mat good enough to be here? I hope it’s not falling apart. I’ve had this mat for a while. I got it for boot camp. I haven’t been to boot camp in so long. I can’t believe I stopped going. I totally suck. I want to go back, but I’m going to die when I do. I can’t go back until I can really commit. I’m not ready. But I need to go. I should go tomorrow. Wait, my mind is wandering again. WHY IS IT SO FUCKING HARD TO KEEP MY MIND FROM WANDERING?!!”

Seriously. I was pretty sure I was missing the point.

The third pose was a wall pose that was slightly comical to get into in a crowded room. So there were some giggles and laughter and side comments made that for traditional yogis were probably annoying, but for me were just what I needed to break the tension in my head. I somehow scooted my ass against the wall and got my legs up and settled into the pose. My hamstrings were stretched in a way they usually aren’t, and the stretch felt good but challenging.

And then the thoughts started again, but this time, I stopped them. I repeated in my head, “I surrender these thoughts. I surrender to this moment. I am here on my mat.”

I have no idea what prompted me to start that mantra, but it’s what came to mind and it stuck. Every time a new thought appeared in my head, I repeated, “I surrender these thoughts. I surrender to this moment. I am here on my mat.”

And I was there – in the moment. Mind and body connected. Present on my mat.

I’d love to say that some magical wisdom came to me during those moments or that I transcended to another plane and became all Zen. But it didn’t, and I didn’t. But I did feel refreshed, and that feeling along with the truth bombs Dana dropped were well worth the price of admission. I thanked Dana for inspiring me to show up, and I grabbed a schedule on my way out. I’ll be back on the mat again soon.

If you want to know more about Dana, or find a workshop near you, visit her website at danafalsetti.com.

How my kids survive while I’m away (Spoiler alert, they have a DAD!)

If you read my earlier post about roaming (if you want to), then you already know I like to go away without my kids. And for the past 18 years, I’ve been getting together with my three best friends from college every MLK weekend, so I’m heading out again today.

When I tell people about my annual trip, at least one random person asks, “Who’s taking care of your kids this weekend?” to which I reply, matter-of-factly, that my husband is at home with the kids.

Random person: “Oh, and he’s okay with that?”

Me: “Um, yeah, why wouldn’t he be? He is their father.”

Thanks to countless posts, we all should know by now not to call dad the babysitter. But I still get that comment. As other writers have chided, this implies that dad’s not capable of handling the children for a few days on his own. Insulting. But it also implies that I wouldn’t want him to.

Listen, I am totally okay with dad doing it all for a few days. And yes, I’m still okay even if he doesn’t do it like I would.

Look, I can admit that the first year after having my first child, I probably went a little overboard prepping my husband for the trip when I handed him four pages of instructions. But in my defense, our first child had unique medical needs, so instructions included things like a tube-feeding schedule. His mom also lived two miles away at the time, so I knew he had back-up close by if needed, and I’m pretty sure she was there most of the weekend.

Did I worry? A little. It was the first time I left my baby other than when I had to go home each night from the NICU. But after seven traumatic months of dealing with surgeries, and tube feedings, and hospital stays, and therapies, and all the other extras my firstborn came with, a weekend away was exactly what I needed. I was able to laugh and cry and release the stress of those seven months with three people who I know love me unconditionally. It gave me the strength to go back into the trenches and handle the challenges of my reality. I will be forever grateful for that weekend!

As the years have gone by, and life has moved us eight-hours away from my mother-in-law, my husband now spends the weekend home alone with his three children. My formerly four-page list of instructions is now a half-page of bullets with only the most pertinent information like the time the bus will drop the kids off on Friday and the pediatrician’s phone number.

Does my husband do everything like I do while I’m away? Nope. Are my kids happy and cared for? Yep. Will they get out of their pajamas Saturday or Sunday? Probably not. Do I care about that? Not at all.

My husband knew going into our marriage that this was part of the deal. Girls weekend was non-negotiable. He decided I was worth it, and committed not only to me as his wife, but also to me leaving every January for a three-day weekend. It was part of the vows. (Not really, but it should have been.)

So yes, my husband has the kids this weekend. Alone. And they will survive without me for a few days. And I’m totally cool with that.

I hated you when you wished for your child to “just stay little”

I hated you when you wished for your child to “just stay little,” but now I understand.

You’ve said it often, in many different ways. “Why can’t they just stay little?” You would lament as you saw your baby changing into a toddler… a preschooler… a kindergartener.

I swore I’d never use that phrase, because I know that if given the choice, you would not choose a child who didn’t grow up. I know because I have one.

I saw my first son grow slowly and develop even more slowly. Then pause, stop, and repeat, while never making more than subtle and calculated progress towards his milestones. And while we celebrate every single tiny accomplishment he makes, it sucks to see his peers growing-up as he should have knowing that he’s never going to be like them due to his developmental disabilities.

So when my daughter arrived, I cheerfully applauded as she hit those milestones. I celebrated her tenacity and spunk as she reached each new age and stage. I even proclaimed out loud how amazing it was to see her grow and develop and become the adult she would be one day.

And then her younger brother arrived, and I stuck to my oath again. This time I was more cognizant that this was very likely the last time I’d see a baby grow in my arms. I swore to myself again, and added that this time I would take it all in. Breathe in every moment as my last baby grew, and changed, and developed.

And I did, at first. I celebrated as he grew, but noted it all. I took more pictures, and tried hard to document on paper and in my mind all the things I loved about my baby, and then about my toddler, and now about my preschooler. So. Many. Things.

But now his sister is older, approaching tween status. She’s still spunky, but sassier now, with most of that sass directed at me. She doesn’t need me as much. She is strong willed, dramatic and oh-so-stubborn. All traits I remind myself will serve her well someday, but that currently try my patience in a way I hadn’t anticipated. Now instead of seeing the adult she will eventually become, I see the teenager I’ll meet first, and I’m a tiny bit terrified of what’s to come.

Meanwhile my baby boy will start Kindergarten this fall. He still looks at me with nothing but love in his eyes. He still wants hugs, kisses and snuggles and asks for them regularly. At bedtime, he offers me a “really better hug” before he lays down with his monkey and curls into a little ball to go to sleep. I want to pause, stop and repeat. I don’t want this to change.

So I apologize to you for judging. I get it now. I understand what you want to hold on to. It’s not the diapers, or the temper tantrums, or the lack of communication, or the constant attention that I still have to give to my oldest son, who is now 11-years-old but developmentally still at the level of a young preschooler. It’s the moments you know will never happen again as they are happening now. The moments that you will miss as your child grows into their own. It’s not that you didn’t want to see them growing up, or didn’t appreciate the changes that happened along the way, it’s that you know that someday soon the offers of a “really better hug” and unlimited snuggles will go away. And while you will have those memories that you’ve documented into the fibers of your being, you just hope for one more day to observe and take note.

 

Photo credit: Photography by Caitlin Domanico, co-author of Photographing Motherhood.

My Word for 2017

If you read my last post, Word to Your (Like A) Mother, then you know I chose to jump on the bandwagon of choosing a word as a beacon for 2017. With the help of The Resolute Word by Michelle Lewis and Nicole Lewis-Keeber, I embarked on finding my word.

I am excited to share that my word for 2017 is… freedom!

(Cue your best Mel Gibson impression here.)

No, I’m not planning a Scottish uprising, and I’m not planning an uprising in suburban Philadelphia either. But I am hoping to spark a little uprising in my thoughts and in my actions.

When the word freedom first appeared to me, I thought it might be too bold. Would people think my goal is to leave my family, runoff and become a gypsy? (That’s NOT my goal!) But then I realized that part of the freedom I’m looking to find is the freedom to have bold thoughts and to do bold things.

So what does freedom mean to me?

I did a quick Google search for a definition as soon as I realized freedom was my word for 2017. This is the first definition I got:

the power or right to act, speak, or think as one wants without hindrance or restraint.

YES!!!

Did you read that? The POWER or RIGHT to ACT, SPEAK, or THINK as one WANTS without hindrance or restraint.

I seriously got chills.

I have spent many years in my life feeling stuck. Whether it was being stuck in my own head, or feeling trapped by societal norms and perceptions, I don’t feel like I’ve been living as my true and authentic self. In 2015, I started to make some powerful shifts. But those were sidetracked in 2016 when I let the voices in my head get the better of me again. To be honest, for the last six months, I’ve been a pretty miserable bitch. In 2017, it’s time to shift that power once again. It’s time for freedom.

Word to Your (Like A) Mother 2017

The year we will forever know as 2016 is coming to a close. I don’t know about you, but this year has been a bit rocky for me. It started out with a bang. I had big plans, but then life threw some unexpected curve balls, and I found myself joining the throngs screaming a big old “F-you!” to 2016.

In recent years, I haven’t been one for resolutions, and quite honestly, I have never been a huge fan of New Year’s Eve or Day – too many expectations, and far too many years of watching that silly ball drop alone have made me jaded. Lately I find myself focusing on MY new year, my birthday, which was in late November. It’s a day when the only expectations are my own.

But a new trend (or at least new-to-me trend) has sparked my interest in the new year, and especially after 2016 fell a bit flat for me, I am ready to give it a try. It’s choosing a word for the coming year.

I started hearing a little about picking a word for the year last new year’s, but didn’t pay much attention. I mean, it sounded cool – picking a word as your word of the year – but how was this going to help me? I just couldn’t see it… or maybe I didn’t want to.

But the idea appeared again this year, and this time I paid attention. It popped up a few times, which is typically a sign from the universe that I need to put on my listening ears and engage with the idea. Most recently, it came in the form of a book written and shared by Nicole Lewis-Keeber and her cousin Michelle Lewis. The book is called The Resolute Word.

In the book, a short Kindle read, they share their experiences with finding and choosing a word and how it led them to start an online community. The idea wasn’t theirs exclusively, but how they are encouraging others to find their word, and the community they have built, make this idea more tangible.

My first misconception about the word of the year was that I should just pick a word, which to me seemed overwhelming. There are so many words, and so many things I’d love to see this coming year bring. How do I choose just one word? This is where The Resolute Word was incredibly helpful. Nicole and Michelle provide exercises to get the word choosing juices flowing. These ideas are things I never would have thought of, but are simple and require little more than quieting your mind and listening to yourself and the world around you.

Had you asked me before I read the book, I would have probably chosen the word love. I’m all about love, and it would seem the obvious choice for me. But love is not my word for 2017. After reading the book and doing the exercises, my word appeared like a Broadway marquis… and it’s definitely not love. What is it? You have to wait January 1st to find out!

Is the word of the year the new resolution? Who’s to say, but for me it feels right!

And if it feels right to you, I encourage you to download The Resolute Word to help you find yours. The book is free if you have Kindle Unlimited, and just $0.99 if you don’t. Also, Nicole and Michelle are donating all proceeds from the book through the end of January to help Syrian refugees, so you can help yourself with this guide, and you’ll be helping others with your purchase!

Then, come back here on January 1, 2017 to learn my word for the year, and how I came to choose it, or how it chose me, and share yours! And get ready to take on 2017 like a mother!

I cheated. And it felt soooo good!

I have a confession to make. This year, I cheated. I know my mother will be so disappointed. After all, she set the example of how things were supposed to be. But I just couldn’t take it this year. This Christmas, I used HomeCooked for all of my cookies!

(Hey now, what did you think I was talking about?!)

Let’s get real here moms. For most of us, somewhere in our DNA, our family history, or our own fucked up stories in our heads about being perfect moms, we somehow got the message that good moms bake and prepare holiday feasts meant for kings from scratch.

For years I bought into this story – spending hours in the kitchen on Thanksgiving and baking for weeks before Christmas. But as I had more children, and life got crazier, I realized I wasn’t enjoying holidays any longer, so I started to take a few shortcuts. It began innocently enough, a few add-ons for Thanksgiving ordered from Whole Foods… but they were delicious, and so easy to prepare and serve! I was able to drink mimosas and watch the parade while the turkey roasted instead of peeling potatoes and chopping veggies. And I liked it!

This year, I found my new favorite holiday shortcut, HomeCooked, a local mom-owned business that is known for their pre-made meals that you simply cook at home. They offer a parent and child holiday cookie making workshop, so I registered Katie and me to participate. It was the best! There were five stations including three varieties of cookies, a fudge, and chocolate bark. The ingredients, measuring cups, mixing bowls, spatulas, mixer – all were provided! I didn’t have to shop or prep a thing. My daughter and I worked together and enjoyed the time because the stress of a long day in the kitchen was gone! We came home with bags of cookie dough, our finished fudge and bark, and smiles on our faces. Most importantly, our mother-daughter relationship was still intact. Pure awesomeness!

The next day we baked our cookies according to the directions provided, and I bagged them for storage in the freezer. Easy peasy.

But I needed more…

So I bought some of the premade dough from HomeCooked, and made these beautiful thumbprint cookies. Don’t they look pretty? I made those! I might not have mixed the dough myself, but I baked them, and in my book, that totally counts!

Honestly, I really do enjoy baking… when I have the time. I don’t enjoy baking when it’s expected, and there is a strict deadline to complete it along with all the shopping, wrapping, gifting, and the “oh-my-god I forgot to buy something for someone” shit on my plate, in addition to my normal work and that whole keeping my children alive thing.

Look, I don’t know who decided that the word mother was synonymous with the word martyr, but I’m calling bullshit. Being a good mom doesn’t mean you have to be Betty Crocker or Martha Stewart. Being a good mom means you are doing the best you can at any given moment, and if today that is a bag of Oreos that you’ll be leaving for Santa, so be it. I hear he likes them!

 

Footnote: My love for HomeCooked is pure and honest. They did not sponsor this post in any way. They just rock. If you are local to the Philly Western Suburbs, check them out in Paoli or online at homecooked.net.