Preheat oven to 350-

Ingredients:

3lbs Granny Smith Apples- washed

1 1/2 -to- 2 cups sugar

1/2 -to-3/4 cup flour

pinch of salt

cinnamon

Pat of butter

Pillsbury Prepared pie crust )told-you- it’s mostly homemade;)

2 Tbl milk

cinnamon sugar to sprinkle

Directions:

Remove pie crust from box- let sit at room temp until pliable.

Peel, core and then thinly slice (about 1/4-1/2 inch thick) the apples.  In a bowl, combine with flour, sugar cinnamon and salt. Mix or toss to coat apples.

Sprinkle pie pan (I prefer the Pampered Chef Pie plate stone) with 1 Tbl flour and a sprinkle of sugar. (helps to avoid soggy bototm crust)

Unroll and press bottom pie crust into pan.

Fill pan with apple sugar mixture.  (Pack ‘em in there- make em fit.  Plan on cleaning the oven later if it runs over;) )

top with a pat of butter and a sprinkle of cinnamon.

Unroll second pie crust, place over apples.  “Crimp” Top crust to bottom using a fork.  Trim excess crust with a knife. (reserve)

Roll put the dough and cut into holiday themed shapes- (I like leaves and pumpkins-)

Use a pastry brush to brush pie top with milk.  Place “cut outs” onto pie top by brushing bottoms with milk.

Sprinkle pie with cinnamon sugar.  Use sharp knife to cut “vents” into pie top.

Bake at 350 for 50-60 minutes.

Serve warm with vanilla ice cream or whipped cream.

Receive the praise;)

Pies done!

“Mr Gorbachev, Tear down this wall.“

I was 21. When Ronald Reagan made that demand. It resonated through my being. I was really not much more than a kid, without political understanding, but even I could see how wrong that wall was.  I saw that wall as an ugly reminder of how differences of perspective (a simplification, I know)  can be used to separate and even kill.

What divided Germany?

Ideation? Perspective? Politics? Fear? Hatred? Control? Judgment?

Maybe, it was all of the above.

Today- we celebrate the action of a nation tearing down a wall and  being pieced back together. The tearing down of that wall was a symbol of unity over difference. it was the beginning of the end of the Cold War.

It was powerful. It still is.

Sadly?  It wasn’t the last wall built to divide. Nor was Communism the last Cold War. There are walls between Moms- and a Cold War being waged between us.

You don’t see them?  Look again. We are at war over our parenting methods,style, choice s and preferences. From diapering to schooling choice, we build walls around our opinions, judgments, perspectives, ideas, politics, cultures, and assumptions. They are invisible, but are just as real as Berlin’s concrete wall.

Like Berlin- we each stand on “our side,” armed with snipers rifles to keep the same in and the different- out.  We shoot words, looks, justifications and judgments like officers of mom-dom guarding our borders.

I’ve built my share of walls.  I’m learning to tear them down.

Why?

Because I’m learning my walls are (for the most part) built of Myth. Things I believe about others  based on tiny pieces of truth I know about them. I create whole myths that explain motive and actions without bothering to KNOW the person. It’s ugly. It’s wrong. and, it’s true.  I call them Mommy Myths- and it’s time for them to be busted.

I only know one way to bust Myths- (mommy or otherwise) and that is with truth. How do I learn the truth about moms who are different from me? BY GETTING TO KNOW THEM. It is messy and uncomfortable. and worth it.

I need other moms. Desperately. I need different opinions and perspectives. I need confrontation (I don’t WANT it, but I need it:P) and confirmation. I need connection and understanding. I need to listen and learn and be heard.

Maybe you do too.

I wonder what would happen if Mothers around the world tore down their walls?  I wonder what would happen if we learned to listen instead of assume.  I wonder what would happen if we could learn to appreciate our differences instead of judging and defending?  We may nit agree on everything- but maybe we could respect and understand. Maybe then, we could put away the verbal rifles and end the Mommy Cold War that is between us.

the world and our families- could be a better place.

Can you hear it?

There is a voice- standing not on one side or another- but above all of our walls and I hear it saying…

“Ms Mommy-chev, TEAR DOWN THAT WALL.”

It’s time to Bust some Mommy Myths- so we can pull out the bricks and mortars that build our walls– will you join me?

I have no words, only tears for all affected.

I especially want my MOPS sisters and all Moms @ Fort Hood to know :

YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

For my MOPS Sisters who wish there was something you could do to reach out to Fort Hood- pray- and then- check this out-

We are praying as you face the days to come.  

I’m just a mom.. right? It’s time to let go of that excuse. Maybe it’s time for you to let it go too!

I hope you’ll pop over to MOPS.org and read an article I wrote about it!

Be for watching MomSense Magazine– Nov/Dec issue– (Not available online yet- but should be soon)

I’m in it. :)

An authentic look at the emotions that fuel the Mommy Wars.  I’m praying God will use it to make peace not war:)

For those who know me- it’s my dream to be a writer.. this is a step in that direction- I am amazed !

6 hours… of my life.  WASTED.

6 hours, spent wiggling and jiggling and sweating in claustrophopic conditions attempting to find an outfit that “worked”.  That’s what clothes shopping has come too.   I hate it.  Which is probably good for my budget, but, is not so good for my self esteem.  Three way mirrors with flourescent mega watt lighting are enough to make Angelina Jolie, cry.  (OK, maybe not- but one could hope I’m not alone crying in the fitting room.)

Cute top after cute top was wrestled on, off, and thrown to the floor.  What was cute on the rack was either maternity-ish on me or just plain hooch- looking. I started to wonder if there was a conspiracy to make all women appear like either they are – 1) trying to get pregnant or 2) already pregnant. ( It seems like my 2 options are lingerie or maternity inspired looks, both fine,  just maybe not so much for my everyday look. .)

I went from one store to another— in search of the perfect (or at least the not embarrassingly bad, outfit. (It probably didn’t help that I was PMSing— there should be hormone detectors in dressing rooms that slam steel doors over the mirrors if you’re “at risk”.)

While wrestling and searching I realized I don’t get fashion. AT ALL.

Things I do not understand about current fashion:

Tops that do not allow for women to have breasts.  (Where exactly am I suppose to put them?  Offsite?)

Tops that draw and quarter breasts. (for the record- four boobs are NOT better than two.  Empire waists are to be placed UNDER them, not l not in the MIDDLE of them! )

Tops that have ribbons bows and strange gathering where one least needs it…ruffles at the bottom of tunic length tops are just WRONG.

Tops that highlight muffin-topping. (My problem isn’t so much muffin tops as a bundt cake butt- but I digress.)

Tops that require the purchase of additional layering pieces to make them even remotely appropriate. (However- nice try with the “selling up” attempt Fashion industry– it’s working) Also-layered tops that are sewn together in such a way as to become a mass of knotted fabric in the washing machine… yeah-I love that. NOT.

T-shirts that look fine until you get them home, and they turn see-thru.  (Especially when they actually fit- that’s just evil.)

T-shirts sized to fit barbie dolls and sold for full-grown adult women. Vanity sizing works for me.

Wrap tops that don’t wrap— they GAP. *The whole point of wrap tops is that they can be wrapped and fitted to perfection… please stop sewing them at weird places— and turning them into faux-wraps. it defeats the purpose.

Tops that are otherwise perfect- but with one strange fatal flaw— like sleeves that make my wrists look fat…(they do— I swear!) or openings where I least need them..

Built in bras that do nothing but mush and smush. (Hello… any one over a b cup will end up with the infamous uni-boob.  Like 4 boobs, one is not better than two.)

Jackets cut to fit beautifully—if I didn’t have breasts.

Jeans— should we even go there—?  I would however- like to thank the fashion industry for upping the rise from 1 1/2 inches to 4 1/2.  So much better. :(  Where are the activists who should be protesting all the cracks in the fashion atmosphere?  JUST SAY NO, TO BUTT CLEAVAGE.

Skirts with identity issues. Of which there seems to be  2 types- those of the “I am a belt but am trying to pass as a skirt” type. And the “Oh my word, how much ugly fabric can we elasticize and still be able to call it a skirt, not a tent? ” type.   I just want a normal skirt that fits my butt AND my waist and isn’t too short or too long… is that too much to ask?

I need a  Pencil-skirt like the pencils my second grader uses-   with one of those ergonomic grip things on it;)

Huge belts on highwaisted pants/skirts…. that say: “Hello, my boobs are sitting on a belt-shelf!” Not a good look.

Pants with ankles more narrow than my wrists…. my goal is not to look like a giant “?” Question mark.  Fluffy tops with tiny bottoms are weird.

I don’t get it at all.  I am the “average” size according to statistics.  (Although I am not exactly liking the statistics..) If I am the average….why are clothing manufacturers making clothing designed for  stick figures with perky boobs that look cute in maternity tops????  ( Since when do stick figures have boobs at all?  And why do mannequins suddenly need nipples? )

In short- Clothes shopping- not so much fun. Unless maybe you are pre-pubescent. And then?  You’d have the fight with your parents to look forward too- so maybe not.

However- making fun of clothes shopping??? Pretty fun…

The bottom line? It’s driving me to shoe shop.

WHY? Because SHOES ALWAYS FIT, and rarely make my feet look fat.

So, what about you?  Are there things about fashion that you don’t get?  Here’s your chance- RANT AWAY!

Re-post from March- BECAUSE THINGS HAVE NOT IMPROVED.

I admit it- I suffer from PTRS Post traumatic report card syndrome..But- I shall prevail, and you can too!

I think it started in 3rd grade.  My deep and abiding fear and hatred of report cards, I mean. I’m not sure– they all start to run together into one huge NOT SATISFACTORY heap of the same:  ”Tracey talks too much” , “Tracey doesn’t complete her work on time” “Tracey should spend more time working and less time socializing, in class.” , “Tracey needs to make more of an effort in class.”

While I’ve always LOVED learning– I was one of those people who breathed a deep sigh of relief when I finished school. NO MORE REPORT CARDS.

And then?  I had a kid.

Funny thing about having kids– they come with STUFF.  Like diapers, teething rings, pacifiers, preschools, back packs, homework, and yes: REPORT CARDS.

I remember the first report card that came home.. it made me endlessly happy.  My child was ahead of his class and I felt like I was the best mom in the world.   I put it up on the fridge and kept it as a talisman of accomplishment.  MY accomlishment, somehow.

For whatever reason-(maybe the desire to have a good report card of my own– or maybe my desperate need to have my young and fearful mothering skills affirmed) I was confused… I felt like his accomplishment was MINE. His accelerated learning meant I WAS A SMART AND GOOD MOM.

Which worked out ok for me, for a while.

Until a not so stellar report card came home. I was crushed.  (the kid was not- he couldn’t have cared less- and still doesn’t much care about grades.) I felt like a failure as a mother.

All kinds of thoughts flooded my mind:

Maybe I wasn’t reading to him enough.  Maybe I read to him too much.

Maybe I wasn’t giving him a healthy enough breakfast, or the twinkies in his lunch box were rotting his brain.

Maybe I hadn’t chosen the right school.

Maybe I shouldn’t have switched from having him listen to classical music at bedtime to Thomas The Tank Engine stories on tape…

Maybe I just plain sucked as a mother and he would have been better off being raised by literate wolves…or professionals. or SOMEONE THAT WASN”T AS BAD AT THIS MOTHERING THING AS ME.

I went to a local Moms group.. (a MOPS group- you should try and find one near you or start one- they are life savers:) and I talked to the mentor mom about how crappy I felt.  I mean–” I’m the MOM -they are my job- you know?”

I remember telling her.

Thats when she said something that became immensely freeing to me.

“Your children are  NOT your report card.”

At first I argued with her.. I mean really- if a mom does her job- then her kids should turn out well- right? Thats kind of like a report card.. If not- well you end up with your own reality (more like sur-reality imo) show or on Supernanny or something. The ultimate bad parenting report card- visible to the world.

She kept saying something stuff about how God creates each child with his own personality and set of unique challenges.. and how it’s all for a reason and that reason is bigger than me… and how I was PART of the plan but not the end all of the plan…

To be honest- I thought she was full of something that fills Pampers.

I was pretty sure that nurture trumps nature- and that I could make my kids be perfect. IF I DID ALL THE RIGHT THINGS.

And then, I had child # 2. Who was entirely different than child #1. FROM CONCEPTION.  I did all the same things.. but ths kid WAS DIFFERENT. If I wasn’t so math challenged I’d say it’ didn’t add up…

A light went on. Maybe she was right. Maybe it’s not all about me- my mothering, my skills, my methods.. maybe each kid is unique and God has a plan for them and for me.. and maybe part of it involves challenges and stresses and they will all work together to make them into incredible human beings…EVENTUALLY.

Maybe, just maybe, my kids aren’t my report card after all.

Maybe yours aren’t either.

Dear Lord- Being a parent is hard. I love my kids and want them to have everything they need, to be all that they can.  I feel responsible for things they struggle with.. I feel inadequate as a mom and as a woman.. I feel like their struggles are my fault. The truth is-  I mess up- I’ve made mistakes that HAVE made some things harder for my boys..but God- I have to believe that YOU are bigger than my mistakes- and that YOU love them even more than I do.. Lord- help me and each mom who stops by here to remember that our children are not our report card…they are so mush more than that.. I love you lord- amen!

H1N1. HINI. hini. = HINEY. get it? I’d say it was the fever, but I’m this lame when I’m not sick, so it prolly won’t work.

We’ve been nailed with a wheezing, coughing, fuzzy headed attack of the piggy flu. It is not pleasant. But, we’ll live.

Interesting things about H1N1-

1) It makes your brain (let’s hope temporarily) not work. I can’t seem to knit a simple pattern, or read a book.

2) Moving your eye-balls can hurt. (Who knew?)

3) You can feel like you are drowning ON LAND. WHEN YOU COUGH. Ugh.

4) Having a fever and cough now wins you the doctors office bonus prize: you get a shiney new mask to wear and get ushered into a special room and get to use a special exit… it’s a little like being a celeb- but not.

5) Its very hard to look cool in a yellow mask.

piggy flu and u

Even if you forget to remove your sunglasses.

We know because we tried.

6) Once in the doctors office- you will be left to entertain yourself for countless hours. (OK, maybe minutes that feel like hours) try “exam table yoga” it worked for Noah.

exam table yoga

7) Coughing in public does not gain you pity, as you’d expect.  It gains you glares like daggers being thrown in your direction.  (I wonder if this is what lepers feel/felt like?)  Dodge them.

FYI: Explaining that you are the MOM and have to procure the elements of healing for your family  (you know- ice cream, ibuprofen, ginger ale, hot tea and Thera-flu) will not help. If you want to avoid the glares- either carry a sign, saying: “I don’t have piggy flu, I have asthma. ” (ok- it’s exercise induced but not a LIE, exactly..)   Or stifle your coughing until you pass out.  Wearing the snazzy yellow mask to CVS does not make people feel more safe, it only makes them run screaming from the building. (well.. they looked like they wanted too:P)

8) The school will know as soon as they answer the attendance hotline, WHY you are calling, but you have to tell them anyways. PS  They do not laugh if you just oink into the phone.

9) Your child will freak when they find out they have the swine flu. So will you. STOP. Take a deep breath.  DEAL WITH IT. Do what the doctor says, then,  throw some bacon in a pan and have an in your face piggy party.

It’s not time to panic- its time to be cautious.  Stay home. Play games. Watch bad TV.  Clean random items with bleach as a science experiment to see what melts and what survives…(maybe not.)

10) Remember that in the middle of the night, when the fever is climbing and you’re trying to decide whether you need to make yet another run to the ER.. you are not alone. Other moms have been there.  Other families have beat the piggy flu, so can you.

Besides- He is with us- even in sickness and fear- “.. surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.”  Matthew 28:10

Of course- I’d rather he be with us by keeping us from the piggy flu.. but if we have to be here.. I’m glad he is too:)

Dear Lord- I pray for anyone facing swine flu..  that you’d wrap your arms around them and comfort them, and guard their hearts from fear.  I pray that you’d bring healing to each one.. whether its in the form of Tamiflu, prayer, a bowl of chicken soup or some ibuprofen and rest… I love you lord, and am glad to not be alone in this pig pen of flu… amen.

All that said… I’m  still giggling between coughing fits……

H1N1.. HINI.. HINEY.  Hee. I am 12.

Or maybe an old journey is continuing.

I am happy to announce the launch of a new project:

Mommy Myth Busting.

What is Mommy Myth Busting?

An opportunity to get real and get over the myths we believe about each other and ourselves.

Have you ever felt there was an invisible wall between you and another mom?   Especially a mom who is different than you? I have. I think those walls are built of myth.  Myths we believe about the mom who is different from us, and myths we think they believe about me.

Walls serve 2 purposes. 1) To keep something IN. 2) To keep others OUT.

What are we trying to keep IN?  What are we trying to keep OUT?

I keep wondering what would be different if the walls came down. Maybe war would break out. (oh wait, we already have the mommy wars..too late.) Maybe the mommy wars would END? Maybe we would unleash a common-unity that would be a force for change? Maybe we would be changed.

What if that is all that’s standing in the way of becoming a serious force for change in this world?  Walls built of myth.

If that’s it- then I hear a call: “Ms Mommy-Chev (with a nod to Ronald Reagan that blows the myth of  my being young:P) Tear down that wall!”

I’ve had some of my Mommy-Myths busted.  They have been busted by building bridges of authenticity and risk, instead of walls. They have been busted by being honest about what I’ve assumed (not  fun) and taking time to get to know the truth about a mom who is different from me, and letting her get to know the truth about me.

This project is also about learning to embrace and love our differences.  Some of the things we believe about each other are TRUE and HILARIOUS.  I look forward to confirming and affirming those truths and laughing at myself as I do.

This project is about having the rest of my Mommy Myths Busted, and in sharing those experiences, helping you bust your myths too. I want to create a space for conversation.  I want to hear and understand the myths YOU believe, and how you’ve had them busted.

I want to spend time walking in the shoes of other moms and listening to other moms.  Moms who are different form me. I want to learn the truth about things I’ve assumed.

Some of this will be accomplished through listening.

1) I’ve be created a blog to continue this journey and conversation.

2)I’ll be posting surveys to give you opportunities to anonymously share your experiences.

3) I’ll be reading your emails and comments and incorporating them into my experience. I hope you’ll share both your Myths and the ways you’ve experienced the prejudices of others based on myths they believe about you. Send them to me!  mommymythbusting (at symbol) gmail.com

4) I’ll be reaching out to get to know moms who are different than me. (it’s not hard- I’m a boring, white, suburban, middle class, stay at home mom. Hello- mommy-type, I am she.)  Want to find out If I’ve really sold my soul in exchange for suburban living? Want to know if SAHM’s really eat bon bons all day and watch soaps?  Want to know if I really think all goth moms drink blood? Stick around. We’re gonna get real.

Some of this will be accomplished though social experimentation.

I will be “trying on” and joining some of our most common” mommy-types.”  I’ll be journaling about the experience. Both from the perspective of  the “Different mom” and in learning about the micro-culture that she inhabits.

What will this look like? Maybe I’ll be goth mom for a while, or soccer mom, or glam mom or trailer park mom..I don’t know.. I’m open to whatever.  (Although, My mom has already weighed in with a “NOTHING permanent” request.. bummer-I’ve been known to be a rebel. :)

YOU can help right now- I know I have an eclectic blog readership.  I’d be honored if you’d take my first survey and share it with others. Do you HAVE to be a mom? Well- actually- no. Truth is many of these issues are just plain woman issues.  Some know I’m a Christian and may be wondering if I’m just talking to “Christian” moms.  The answer is NO. I think some of our deepest myths and highest walls are built around our spirituality.  It’s time to bust those too.

Go ahead- take the survey- help me change a culture of women!

Honestly- I’m scared to death. But, I’m more afraid to continue living within walls. What if all we need God has given us in each other?  What if we really ARE created to be a body– each part doing its own unique job?  what would happen if we DID?

I hope you’ll join me on this journey.  Where ever it may lead. (I feel  a little Gene Wilder in that psychedelic boat scene that gave me nightmares in Willie Wonka and the chocolate factory…I dont know where were going…”

Words will be coming soon about my convention experience for now- a photo that sums it up:

not alone