We've had a rough start to our day at my house. Audrey woke up in a mood and has been in time out for much of the morning. When Colin decided to join in the fray and refuse to cooperate with a diaper change I tossed him in his bed and said, "TIME OUT!" Returning a couple minutes later I said angrily, "When mom says, 'It's time to change your diaper,' you MARCH." And to seal the deal before taking him out of his bed I said in a calmer voice, "Now, it's time to change your diaper." And then my obedient little man began marching (seriously, high knees and all) in circles around his crib!

I was on the phone with my Mom last week and I mentioned I was disappointed that I did not know any of my neighbors. This summer when my family moved-in no one came with cookies or even to say "Hello." I live in a town home community so there is not maintenance or yard work to do outside our homes. With the exception of a few families with small children, who need time outdoors in order to survive, I don't see people outside of their homes or cars. It often feels like when people pull into their garage at the end of the day they close the door as quickly as possible to avoid contact with the apron-sporting mom playing soccer with her two boogery toddlers. My mother said something like "things aren't the way they used to be." It's a phrase I hear all the time but I was bothered by her words because she didn't say them in a wistful way like my Grandmother, Mom said it as a statement of fact, as though I should know better. I don't know what the difference is but it made me sad, as if that was it; my 55 year-old angel mother had given up, humanity had turned a corner and there was no going back.

I'm not trying to save my Mom or prove all the 55 plus-ers wrong. I'm not sticking it to my anti-social neighbors. I don't believe that everything in 1950 (or 1850) was better than 2010 but I am going to try and find a few things that were.

Maybe I'll start with a no-brainer; 2010 bread vs. real bread. Can anyone other than the carb-obsessed say no to fresh, warm bread? I've experimented with homemade bread before and it is not nearly as difficult as I imagined. The downside is that it takes a lot of flour to make a loaf of bread. When I buy nice bread flour or expensive wheat flour I end up frustrated if my loaf turns out too dense or crumbly or otherwise less-than-perfect because, while my family still eats it, I feel like those quality ingredients were wasted on an inferior product. I've used recipes from my cookbooks and learned that cookbooks should definitely remain a thing of the past. Unless you inherit your mother's cookbooks with notes penciled in every margin annotating proper adaptations, using a cookbook recipe is more like conducting a kitchen experiment than having a culinary experience. With two energetic, attention-hungry children and a mountain of laundry, I don't have time for experiments. The internet - which did not exist in 1950 - is an excellent source for recipes. In under five minutes I can search for a recipe based on ingredients I have at home, narrow my selection based on a rating system and select the perfect recipe after reading reviews submitted by hundreds of amateur cooks like myself. Who needs Julia Child?

Proven recipe in-hand, sipping my daily Coke, and serenaded by some of my favorite music; I start work while the kids are napping. This basic loaf is beefed up with some oatmeal and whole wheat and sweetened with honey and brown sugar. As the ingredients mix I can tell that this is going to be a good one. The dough has to rise twice but I can get a lot done during that time. By the time the loaves hit the oven dinner is on the table. Sweet smells fill the house while we eat and then enjoy some family time in our living room.

I timed the loaves so they could be delivered and enjoyed hot when my neighbors arrive home from work. I haven't heard or seen them come home yet but the kids are anxious to get outside so we put on shoes and head for the neighbor's front door. No answer. Okay, next neighbor. No answer. The kids kick a ball around as dusk sets in. It's getting close to bed time when our closest neighbors pull into their garage. Having little children is great because it takes the awkwardness out of introductions. With no restraint they charge over, nearly but not quite into the neighbor's garage. All I have to do is play the motherly role of gathering my chicks. They aren't close enough to be rude but too close for us all to avoid talking. Introductions are made. My daughter hands over the still-warm bread. I learn that my neighbor is a single, working mom with four older kids who all play after-school sports. She is happy and radiant through all this chaos. I realize that we probably haven't met because I am in my robe watching TV and my children are asleep by the time she arrives home at night. I'm glad we met. I find myself thinking of ways I can be a friend to this Mom who's pulled in many directions each day. Maybe she's pleased we met too and will think of me next time she needs some eggs or a break.

At ten o'clock I finally brake down and slice into the second, undelivered loaf. Maybe my other neighbor is a traveling salesman. The bread is soft and elastic. I spread on a thick layer of apple butter and as bite into it I wonder if I will have to make bread all week before I meet the salesman. Maybe the whole street will get fresh bread. Yum. That would be okay.

Colin is generally a happy baby but has not ever been one for affection. Each evening Audrey lays big kisses and bear hugs on Greg and I before bed but Colin turns and runs as fast as his little legs can fly. On Saturday he started showing cold symptoms and now Tuesday his nose still runs gross greenness. Of course this is the week he has chosen to begin displays of love for his mother. It started yesterday. He comes and tries to climb up my legs while I sit with my cross stitch or folding laundry. I haul him up and he twists and wriggles until he is turned around facing me. His short arms wrap tight around my neck and we are so close our foreheads touch. And then he smiles and pushes his wet booger face tight against mine. Yuck but ahhhhh, so cute. The next problem is that he is egged on by my cringing mixed with laughter so he goes for it again and again... I will save you the picture on this one :)

Audrey should be napping now. Threats don't work for her, neither does reason. She goes for rewards. I promise her we'll go outside and she can ride her bike later if she takes a nap. She's almost there so I throw in "I'll sing you a song too." Oops, I forgot this always takes a while. When she's trying to drag things out she doesn't want any of the old standbys. When it comes to song selection she deliberates, she stalls, and then she uses vague descriptions of songs I'm sure we've never sung. Today she finally says, "I want you to sing about the garbage colors." What? Think, think, Jill, what could this possible translate to? I figured this out in under 60 seconds - I rock!

Out of my window looking through the night
I can see the barges’ flickering light
Starboard shines green and port is glowing red
I can see the lights for miles ahead

Barges I would like to go with you
I would like to sail the ocean blue
Barges have you treasure in your hold
Do you fight with pirates brave and bold

Audrey asks if I was married like a princess in the temple. I tell her yes. We talk about my dress and I explain that everyone in the temple wears white dresses. She asks if my shoes were white or pink. I laugh and say white. And then she asks if they were made of glass.

Our morning as a family usually consists of Cheerios, cups of warm milk for the kids, hot chocolate for Greg and hot Pero, instant natural beverage, for me. On our better days as parents we read scripture stories to the kids during this time together.

While I am describing who John the Baptist was Audrey interrupts,

"Mom. I knooooow. That John," she says while pointing to the illustration of a bearded John the Baptist, "lives at Grandma's house."

(photo: Audrey's Uncle John who does happen to live at Grandma's house:)

A more advanced topic was that of Jesus being tempted in the wilderness. Greg explains that the devil told Jesus to turn a stone into bread and asks Audrey what she thinks Jesus did. Without pausing Audrey replies,

"No, Dad, he not turn the rock into bread because he not have his wand."

Audrey made a coffee filter basket in nursery today. Inside the basket there is a white fabric ghost with a face drawn on it. I tried for a moment to make connections to scripture stories or other possible nursery lessons. Nothing. So I asked Audrey.

"This is baby Noses," she says.

The story apparently goes like this. Baby Noses was put in the basket and sent down a very fast river. A giant dolphin came and opened it's mouth and swallowed baby Noses and his basket. The end.

Audrey and I went to Tom's farm market. I wanted her to get inspired about vegetables. I thought the green fields and big red barn would be happy, positive associations for the largely neglected area of her dinner plate. We had a lot of fun. Audrey selected a huge red pepper and scooped handfuls of green beans into our bag. Of course there was corn too. Sweet, delicious, corn.

And then the fresh produce led to shelves of homemade jams and salsas, and tables of fresh berry-packed pies and aromatic breads, fudge too. And then there were kitchen accessories. Strainers, peelers, wooden spoons. I guess I see the connection. But soon we discovered darling hand-painted ceramic dishes, and greeting cards, and herb-smelling soaps the size of a mini-loaf. Then displays of cool jewelery and trendy purses and luscious baby gifts. What?

No, farmer Tom and family did not make all this stuff. But someone definitely did some research on their typical clientele. Or at least the "type" of person (me) who is attracted to a farmer's market. I was absolutely in heaven. Audrey stalled in front of a set of mother-daughter aprons. Ruffles abound. The tiers of coordinating fabric were gorgeous. Price tag? Nearly 40$ a piece. Sorry, Audrey. I instantly said,

"I will make you an apron."

Audrey "Today?"

We escaped with $4.76 in produce and no more. Great will, Jill. Twenty-four hours later I am so thoroughly proud of my accomplishment, nearly as good as the one at Tom's.


P.S. The green beans were a no-go for the kiddos. But we made progress on the pepper. And the corn - was gone five minutes into dinner.