Sacramento Parent Magazine

My son Riley started Kindergarten this year and he just came home with his first homework assignment. Homework! I was so excited when I pulled it out of his backpack that I called him immediately over to work on it. I read the instructions aloud, “Count and color the following shapes.” Oh great, color. We have no crayons. Somebody in the household likes to take crayons and rip off the paper, grind them into the coffee table until nothing is left but melted wax. After searching through all the drawers, tables and toy baskets I am not able to locate one remnant of periwinkle blue anywhere. All I can come up with is a few dried out markers and a fabric pen. Needless to say my little cherub breaks down when the markers won’t color properly and the excitement of homework has turned into tears and dinner being postponed until doodlebug can be reassured for the 100th time it looks fine while thinking I am the worst mom in the world. We don’t even have crayons for pete’s sake.

While we were camping one weekend at a lake, I was floating on a tube near the shore while my 4 year old was hanging on to the side. All of a sudden he says, “Do you want the good news or the bad news?” I paused as I contemplated where he picked that phrase up, and then cautiously answered, “The good news?” He thought for a moment before responding and said, “There is none. The bad news is I can’t touch.”

I interpreted that as there is no good news people, we are going down.

“It will be OK…”

I gave a little bit of a start when I read these words sent this morning to my personal e-mail account.

As a mom, I am always reassuring my children something - the sting of a hurt will ease, friends will tolerate differences of opinion, a new school will open doors. As a wife, I often tell my husband to hang in there. As a friend, I am fond of saying “things happen for a reason.”

Life happens, it always does. Just when we think we have a handle on what the world is going to give us, the smallest cosmic shift can create a vertigo of the soul.

For a few weeks now, my self has not been aligned. Call me Two-Face: One part excited and overjoyed about the new school my children are attending this year, one part emotionally nostalgic walking away from a neighborhood school we waited for and watched be built.

These words, this morning, were just what I needed. It will be OK.

Each month I wait.

Each month my hopes surge with the possibility of life.

Each month we try.

Each month I look across our table at dinner and see an extra chair that should be filled. I picture another child sitting there filled with innocence as he tries to make his brother laugh.

Each month the chair stays empty.

Each month I look up my due date and mentally plan my life around it.

Each month that date comes and goes without a plan needed.

Each month I give my 4 year old an extra hug when I realize how lucky we are.

Each month I look at him in sadness mentally apologizing to him that he will never experience a sibling.

Each month we go through more tests and the outcome is always the same, there is nothing wrong.

Each month another friend announces their pregnancy.

Each month I consider my apathy to religion and silently say a prayer.

Each month I am closer to 40 which is the age we will no longer try.

Each month my heart tugs so hard I think I need to hold it in place.

Each month I cry alone in the bathroom when I realize another month is gone.

Each month is as painful as the last.

Blackberry stained fingers.

Butter, flour and sugar.

Hot oven.

Sweet smell fills the house.

Steam rises as vanilla bean ice cream melts into tasty crevices.

“Mommy, can I have dessert?”

Yes, yes you can.

With whip cream on top.

It’s Pertussis Awareness Day. Not as fun as Foot Massage Awareness Day, or Free Ice Cream Day, we know. But  pertussis (aka whooping cough) cases are on the rise this year across our state, so we’re teaming up with the March of Dimes and the California Department of Public Health to help spread the word… and hopefully stop the spread of this highly contagious bacterial illness with the funky names.

The CDPH is recommending that all Californians make sure that they are immunized, especially if they are in contact with infants. (It’s potentially fatal to babies under 12 months.) Check out the new recommendations at CDPH.Ca.gov.

Vaccination is the best defense, but immunization wears off over time, and the number of adolescents and adults getting their pertussis boosters has dropped in recent years. As a result, pertussis is circulating widely in California, putting infants who are too young to get their shots at serious risk.

This is an actual conversation between me, my husband and our 4 year old son, Riley.

Riley: I told Ms Mary (preschool teacher) I love her.
Me: That is so sweet Riley.
Riley: But Dad didn’t tell Ms Mary he loves her.
Me: Well…dads don’t tell teachers they love them unless they want to be single.
My husband: Nice.
Me: Actually dads may tell other mommies they love them if they live in Utah.
My husband: Dear God.
Me: I am pretty sure the loving dads in Utah think God wants them to spread the love around.
My husband: I refuse to take the school’s calls.

It was very hot while we were sitting at a local restaurant waiting for a table. My 4 year old turns to me and in the loudest possible voice yells, “CAN YOU BLOW ME?”

Cooking is a great way for younger kids to keep math skills up over the summer months (plus, it’s a time to bond, and the results are usually delicious!). I suggest taking dessert time to another level with this scrumptious chocolate cake recipe that quite possibly has the fastest clean-up time ever. Out of all the gadgets and bowls and mixers in your kitchen, this recipe only requires one: the pan you bake it in (although, measuring cups will be helpful as well). So, grab the kids and get cookin’!

1) Preheat oven to 350. In a 9×13 pan, mix together:

• 3 cups flour
• 2 cups sugar
• 1/3 cup cocoa
• 2 teaspoons baking soda

2) Make three crater-like holes in the mixture. Pour one wet ingredient in each hole:

• 1/2 cup oil
• 2 teaspoons vanilla
• 2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar

3) Pour 2 cups of water over the entire mixture, and mix until batter is smooth.

4) Bake for 30-35 minutes or until toothpick comes out clean.

5) Optional: to make icing, mix powdered sugar and water (or milk) in a plastic baggie. Cut off a small tip from one corner, and use like a pastry bag to decorate the cake. I like my slice topped with fresh strawberries and blackberries from the farmers’ market!

And, thanks to a cleaning time of almost zilch, you can spend more time enjoying the fruits of your family’s labor. Happy eating!

PS - You may have noticed that this recipe is vegan-friendly. You can also substitute apple sauce for the oil to make it even healthier.

A friend of my sister’s recently told her that he was part of a discussion regarding what defines a mule, donkey or jackass. There was a debate with the conclusion so she sent him the following tale:

Once upon a time there was a donkey named Jack who was married to Jenny. Jack was schmarmy, wore gold chains, button up shirts with the top 4 buttons undone to show off his chest hair and he was short.

Jack met Whinny. Whinny lived in a pasture of wildflowers with butterflies and frogs. She had a long beautiful blond mane and tail. She never had an original thought other than “oh, that flower is pretty” or “wow, grass is green”. You couldn’t trust Whinny not to smell the scratch-n-sniff sticker at the bottom of the pool.

Well, Jack decided he had to have that. He courted Whinny, invested in a ladder and next thing you know, a long eared, smart, stout abomination appeared. God was not happy. He came down from the heavens furious that Jack had blurred the line between the species. He declared that all progeny of the jack/whinny union would be forever sterile.

That is where mules come from.

(Jackass comes from Jenny finding out Jack cheated on her. She whipped his ass all over the county. Sold all his crap at a garage sale and took him to court for all he was worth. California is a community property state. I hear she is now living on a lavender farm in Northern California with a small family of goats.)

Story by Samantha Brown, single mother, volunteer firefighter, EMT, bookstore manager, part-time librarian, farm worker and future inappropriate children’s book author if the other 5 jobs don’t pan out.