Monthly Archive

Unfulfilled? Frustrated with cleaning up the same mess 22 times in one hour? Sick and tired of cleaning up broken Christmas balls? Done with nagging to get homework done, flush the potty or to finish eating dinner? Had it up to here with kids begging for more toys, candy, presents, computer time, movies, video games or other outrageously expensive landfill toys.

Me too.

It must be in the air; Fed-Up-Ness seems to be a recurring theme on a whole lot of blogs right now. Count me among the masses. If I have to tell Bean to leave the presents alone one more time, I’m taking them all back. If Abby yanks another ornament off the tree, I might duct tape her little chubby hands to the floor. If Jeffrey calls grandma one more time to beg for more toys, I might roll up the catalogs he circles everything in and whomp him over the head.

I know my kids need me at home. I know no one can replace a parent in the home, and that being at the crossroads is muy importanto. So I’m here. But man, sometimes I have to agree, a trained monkey could do most of what being a SAHM entails. Seriously. OK, the monkey wouldn’t love my kids the way I do, and he might bite an owie rather than kiss it, but he seriously could do all the other mundane, repetitive, thankless tasks that take up most of my day, leaving me with little brainpower or energy to be an interesting, thoughtful, engaging woman.

I don’t have any idea how to balance this. If anyone knows, let me in on it, OK? For now, I will continue to be the trained monkey in my house, and will try really hard not to bite my kids when they knock over and break yet another widget.

Sometimes, I just want to scream: “I am more than a human NAPKIN!”

Despite the Grinch and his tear-inducing ways, my tree is up and decorated, and if I can keep Abby from UN-decorating the entire bottom half, it will be a good month. There are no lights on the outside of the house yet, and with snow predicted for tonight, it’s not looking good for my little lightbulb friends.

A week with DH at home has been (trying to think of something true yet tactful- not my strong suit) lovely. He did afford me some nice alone time, straightened out the basement, and let me get in some good sewing time. That means all of you ladies who’ve been waiting for your Pay It Forward treats will be getting something in the mail this week.

I think retired missions just might be marriage savers.

Me, the toy goddess, is stymied by what to get Abby for Christmas. We have everything she could possibly need, yet the poor girl needs to unwrap something. I might just tear a page from Wiz’s book at MMW and wrap up toys she already has!

Jeffrey and I are both sick. Abby has a running nose, so it’s coming for her, too. I think the flu and pneumonia shots I got last month are helping though, because I’m not currently flattened by this bug. Jeff’s going to school no matter what.

Everyone back to school and work tomorrow! Yay!

Still no pictures for the Christmas card- Abby keeps banging her head on things, and I really don’t want purple goose-eggs preserved for posterity.

I have a stye on my left eye. Anyone ever had one of those? So not only is my head full of concrete and I’m coughing and sneezing, but my left eye looks like a pink prune. It’s very lovely, let me tell you.

Babies galore in the blogworld- it must be something in the air. Bek, Nestle, Carrie and most recently, Julie, have announced buns in the oven. Congrats, Mamas! Keep away from me. *just kidding* (mostly) sort of.

After eight years of marriage, I’ve thrown in the towel and handed management of all our finances to my husband. I love it. Money and I don’t mix too well- I mean, I like to buy things, but I hate numbers. Hate them. Give me some words. Words, I love. Numbers, not so much.

Bean hit Jeffrey over the head last night with a small Christmas tree. Said Jeff was buggin’ him. Small shards of ornament balls do not make good bedfellows, as Jeff’s bed had to be stripped and vacuumed. What to do with the boy… *sigh*

About twice a year I make Eggs Benedict. Anymore than that and we’d all be in the cardiac unit- but, oh my, it is my favorite breakfast ever.  Well, it might be followed closely by my apple Dutch Baby, but it’s still got a slim (ha!) lead.

The only problem with Eggs Benedict (besides the utter over-the-topness of a sauce made with so much butter) is making hollandaise sauce. It can be tricky, and the stuff from the store is just gross. If you’re going to do Benedict, do make your sauce from scratch. Especially since I’m going to give the absolutely guarantees method for making it without it EVER breaking or separating. I promise.

1. In your blender, put three raw egg yolks. Do something else with the whites- I don’t care, but they have no place in a hollandaise.
2. Add 1 Tbsp fresh lemon juice to the egg yolks, and whirl it all up.
3. In a glass measuring cup, melt two sicks of butter in the microwave.
4. With the butter hot, and the blender on, GRADUALLY add the hot butter to the whirling egg yolks.
5. That’s it. It will be the best hollandaise ever, and no breaking. The heat from the butter warms the eggs, and all is well in the world. SOOOOO yummy.

Oh, but don’t eat this if you’re preggers, and all that- raw eggs, you know. The eggs are cooked a little by the butter, but better safe than sorry.

Tradition says that Benedict is served with an English muffin, Canadian bacon and a poached egg. That’s not how I do it, but feel free if that toots your horn. For a new mix, try replacing the muffin with a fresh baked, split buttermilk biscuit, topped with thin sliced ham and a poached egg. Or, my personal favorite, top the split biscuit with sauteed fresh spinach and a thick slice of fresh tomato, then the egg and hollandaise. I think they call that Eggs Florentine. I don’t care- it’s the best thing ever.

We’re setting up the tree, I have the carols blasting, the kids are tossing the paper chains all catty-whompus around the living room, when DH, who did NOT grow up in a Holiday Appreciation Household, made a quip that sent me into tears.

I have no idea why- I know he doesn’t get into the holidays like I do, and it doesn’t usually bother me- but for some reason, I just started bawling. Killed the mood, and now the tree is standing forlorn and unadorned; the wind just plunked out of my sails.

I’m standing at the kitchen sink, sniffing and wiping my eyes with a paper-towel. Jeffrey, oblivious to my feelings, like any six year old boy, begins to whine, questioning when we will commence decorating the tree.

I can hear DH futzing around in the living room, more for my benefit than anything, he says: “When I go outside and hang myself.”

Jeffrey, ever the eager boy, says: “Can I HELP!?”

I burst out laughing. Mood restored, tree decorating can resume.  Anyone else married to a Grinch?

As for me and my house, this day we find ourselves thankful for:

The abundant blessings and freedom of being a free people, and all the goodness that enfolds. Our family, a wonderful, odd, yet somehow perfect, mix of characters who all somehow manage to love one another. Faith. Having faith has changed our lives in profound and personal ways I never would have imagined.

In a nutshell, (because I have to go cook now!) those are the things we are thankful for this day of Thanksgiving.

For someone who took the time and grace to say it much better than I, check out this link…

Blessings to you and yours this day. 

Setting the stage- we are in the car on the way home from school, and we see a beautiful five-point buck and a doe eating some shrubs on the side of the road. We see a lot of deer, but not usually males with racks like this one- the kids are excited.

Jeffrey: Mom, do deer eat grass?

Me: Sure, they eat grass and twigs and bark and whatever they can find.

Jeffrey: When lions die, they become the grass!

Me: Huh? Uh, yeah- that’s part of the circle of life thing from Lion King, and in a roundabout way, it is true.

Jeffrey: So deer are eating lions?

Beanie, giggling loudly: Deff! Deer don’t eat LIONS!

Jeffrey, irate: BEAN! You don’t know anything! You don’t even know our grass at home is MADE of DEAD LIONS!!!

Me, snerfing diet coke on the windsheild: Bwaaaaaahahahahahaha!!!!!

What the heck is up with Blogger today? I can’t check in with anyone. WordPress, people! Wooooorrrrrrdddddddppppprrrrreeeesssssss….

…Because that’s all I’ve got right now. And, I cribbed the title from the Wiz at MMW. Wanna make something of it?

Thanksgiving. Ugh. I hate, loathe even, all the food associated with Turkey Day. Turkey? Yuck- the only thing I’d even touch is a tiny bit of breast meat- seems like such a waste. Pumpkin pie? You couldn’t pay me to eat it- seriously. Yams or any vegetable with marshmallows on it? What are you thinking- marshmallows are pure evil. Stuffing and gravy? Geeeewww- it’s soggy, fatty bread, and gravy is just icky.

Did I mention I’m cooking on Thursday? Yes, and we’re having guests. I’m making enchiladas and sopapillas. Just kidding. I’ll trod out all the old standbys, put the proper feast on the table, and not eat a bite. Well, OK, I do like mashed potatoes.

My husband is home all this week. He’s already driving me crazy, and it’s only 10:32 a.m. Why is it we yearn for them to be around more, but when they are, they get underfoot and rile the kids up and make life harder? I’m still happy he’s home.

Abby doesn’t talk yet at all. Anyone else have an 18 month old with no verbal skills? By this time, my boys had 60-80 word vocabularies. What gives? I think she’s just fine, and she understands everything, just makes no effort to talk.

I’ve been called to teach Sunday School to the 12 year old girls at church. I think it’ll be good- there’s only three of them, and someone else gets the 8 boys in the same age group. I’m good with that.

Pictures are coming up- that time of year I dread. Getting three kids to the photographer clean and happy and put together is nigh unto impossible, and I always end up a total wreak. But Abby hasn’t had her picture taken since she was 5 months old. Bad Mama. Jeff’s school picture is comical, and Beanie doesn’t get school pictures yet-so of to JC Penny we go. *Holding my breath and grinding my teeth*

Three more days until I get to decorate for Christmas! Yee-haw!! Get thyself away, Thanksgiving!

I adore the version of God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemenby the Bare Naked Ladies and Sarah McLachlan- it makes me feel so happy.

With all my heart I wish I could see my family this year.

My new favorite album is Brandi Carlile’s The Story. Every song is just wonderful- and it’s pretty much on constant rotation in our house.

My best girlfriend from Jr High had her first baby a few days ago, and just I’m so happy for her and her wonderful husband. They waited a long time for this little girl, and it’s going to be fun watching them be parents.

Haven’t started my Christmas shopping yet. Anyone going to brave the masses for Black Friday? Last time I did, I swore I would never do it again- but depending on the ads on Thursday, I must just do it. There is an annonymous member of my family who gets up at 4:30 am on that Friday and doesn’t come home ’til midnight. I won’t be going with her.

Obviously I’ve bombed out of the NaBloPoMo. Oops. Sorry. I suppose it’s better to write when I have something to say, rather than output drivel. Cause this isn’t drivel? Uh-huh. See what I mean?

Beanie wore his pretty pants to church yesterday. Really. The black velvet ones with rhinestones and pink flowers. I don’t know if we just have a rockin’ ward or what, but he got SO many compliments, from the Bishop down, that I know he’s going to want to wear them again. He did have on a white shirt. So whatever.

Off to change a poopy diaper. You needed to know that, right?

There’s a new blog out there in Mormondom, written by an enthusiastic and seemingly guileless young mother who converted to the LDS faith relatively recently. The woman is named Steffie, she is a mother and wife, and started blogging just like the rest of us.

Here’s the kicker. A bunch of Christian Evangelicals have found her blog, and are crawling all over her, ripping her faith up and down. As I scrolled through her posts, I’m amazed and appalled at the things some people say- and the most lovely thing is Steffie’s own patience and sincerity in dealing with what are, for lack of a kinder word, Trolls.

If you have  a second, stop by her site and let her know how many others of us, LDS or not, support the respect of others’ faith. It’s quite touching how many people you might recognize from the ‘nacle have left her comments, or even pulled out the big guns and taken on the attackers themselves. I find myself curiously moved by the whole thing. Check it out.

On my next birthday, I will be…

A place I would like to travel:

My favorite place is:

My favorite object is:

My favorite food is:

My favorite animal is:

My favorite color is:

My first home was:

My home now is:

The name of a past pet was:

My screename is:

A bad habit of mine is:

My first job was:

My hobbies are:

My major in college was:

“Moooooooooommmmmm!” I hear Jeff hollering from the bathroom, somewhere deep inside the house.

Outside, I have my hand wedged up in the back porch light, where it really neither belongs nor fits. Holding the light-bulb with the tippy-tips of my fingers while I hang on the edge of the house, I try and screw the bulb in, and am given a lesson in why opposable thumbs make us such a big deal. (try and screw a light-bulb in without them, I dare you)

“MooooommmMMMMM! He bellows again. Gritting my teeth, I drop the bulb again and wipe my hair from my forehead.

Beanie is zooming around my feet on his Big Wheel, and Abby is gleefully chasing him, her bright pink cheeks bouncing as she runs.

I know what he wants, but apparently the Ignoring Him rule isn’t getting through. We’re working on independence around here, and this is one of his jobs now. Opening the back door, as calmly as I can, “Jeff, I’m changing a light-bulb. Wipe your own bum!”

Sliding the door closed, I jam my hand back up in the brass light fixture and promptly drop the bulb. Again. Ding! Bright Idea!

“Hey Bean, come here a sec, Mama has a job for you! Can you be my big helper and reach your hand in there and turn this light-bulb?” He is joyful at helping, and his hand fits easily in the brass lighthole.

Holding him on my shoulder and balancing on the edge of the step, Beanie slowly turns the bulb while Abby pulls on my pant leg with a chorus of Mamamama.

I am in this position when my darling oldest, jeans about his ankles, wobbles in the kitchen, “Mom, I’ll pay you a dollar if you wipe my bum…”

Speechless.

It’s getting better. Really. Well, OK, it’s still mostly a circus, but tonight, Beanie actually managed to stay in his chair (albeit on is head most of the evening) and Jeff sang two songs with two verses. Abs danced to the songs, and they even kinda sorta listened while I read about making promises and being honest.

We did a puzzle for activity, and devolved into a big fight, but hey, we’re doing about a million times better than we were a year or two ago.

I can really see why this is important. Even though we spend just about every night together, the kids really love family night- I don’t make special treats very often, and we just hang out together in the living room- but there’s something about it they key in on, and the really like it. Definitely a good thing.

This is just too much. The kids have been begging for these- and I came thisclose to buying them last week. 

If you have the toy AquaDots anywhere in your house, or know anyone who does, go READ THIS right now. It seems the dots, if ingested, can convert to gamma hydroxy butyrate also known as the Date-Rape Drug.

Not joking here.

The CPSC recalled all AquaDots sets in North America and in Australia. Five children have been hospitalized after eating the beads. The chemical from the toy (which, once again, originated in China) can cause unconsciousness, seizures, drowsiness, coma and death.

Improve your vocabulary and earn rice for developing nations all at once! I have to warn you though, it can be real time sucker! Click Here.

So far I’ve earned 1800 grains of rice, and hover around level 40. The site says there are 50 levels in all- so I’m not feeling too pompous about that. Let me know how you do, OK?

Without further ado (don’t you love that word? I do!), The Pay-It Forward Contest winners are:

bek

mhuff

Ahna- who doesn’t appear to have a blog, which is just fine…

In order the keep it totally fair and make sure my own friends weren’t the ones getting the prizes (cause I’m such a slave to whimsy!) I used the generator Random.Org to pick the numbers. Your number was assigned based on the order you commented, so these picks really are random.

Thanks so much for playing everyone! And even if you didn’t get picked here, don’t let that stop you from doing this on your own blog or in your own life!

Those chosen, please e-mail me at dandelionDOTmamaATgmailDOTcom.

Some days. I swear.

Sometimes I wonder what my kids will take from their childhoods- Will it be that I loved them unconditionally and did the very best I could on most days? Or will they recall, in graphic detail, the days I failed? The days I yell, blow my stack, and generally lose it are far outnumbered by the days I think I’m a good mom- but I wonder; What’s making the stronger impression?

Today the boys’ carpool got here early, so we were rushing out the door, half dressed and half-baked- never a good start. This morning I had an appointment with a new doctor, too. Once the boys got off to school, I got Abby dressed, myself cleaned up and headed out the door. Abby on my hip, keys in hand, the phone rang. I almost didn’t answer it- but I did.

It was Beanie’s school- he was supposed to bring snack today, and 18 pre-schoolers were waiting for something yummy. Yes, yes, yes, I will be right there- thank heavens for food storage, eh? I start cramming fruit snacks and juice boxes into the large plastic swan that is supposed to remind me to send snack- and the phone rings again. Hello? It’s the teacher again- she’ll meet me at the curb so I don’t have to get Abby out- fantastic! Back to food storage, and Abby has cheerily began to pull EVERYTHING from the lower shelves. The pantry is a disaster. Snack is late, my doctor appointment is rapidly getting sooner, and I’m sweating now.

I pack Abby out to the car and strap her in- at least she can’t do anything there- and go back to grab the Swan of Snacks, now with snacks jammed out it’s butt, my purse, keys and diaper bag.

Oh yeah, and it’s raining.

The phone rings again, and my foot slips on the wet tile in the back hallway as I turn to answer it. Jamming my hip into the doorknob, I think #*%$ it, and ignore the phone. Into the car I go. Swan? Check. Purse? Check. Diaper bag? check. Baby? Check. Paperwork for doctor? Nope. Back in the house.

Back in the car. List of things to talk to the doc about? Nope. Sitting on the counter. Back in the house again. Now I’m really sweating, running late, my hair, so carefully done ten minutes before, is now stuck to my neck and cheeks, and I can feel my eye make-up running. Fabulous.

In the car, now my cell phone is ringing. From the ring, I know it’s DH, so I ignore it. VrrooOOOOOM. Off I tear down the street, thinking I might still be able to deliver the Swan of Goodness and make my doctor’s appointment too.

And I did. But it wasn’t pretty.

Cut to this afternoon. I check my email. Oh CRAP! My quilters guild is meeting tonight- AT MY HOUSE! I feed the boys their snack, pop Abby in bed for a pseudo-nap and run to the bathroom. I’m gone long enough to do my business- but when I come back downstairs- Hell awaits me.

Beanie has, why I will never know, dumped out an entire new bag of Cheetos on the dining room floor, and is doing his happy dance on them. Jeffrey has opened a carton of Whoppers and they’re like marbles all over the floor, mixing in with the Cheetos of Happiness. I lost it. Bonafide, lost it.

They are up in their rooms, with explicit orders to never move again. I called their dad already, because today they are not mine, and told him what to expect when he gets home. I have 18 ladies coming over in two hours. My vacuum is clogged with Cheetos and Whoppers, but thankfully it’s a Dyson so it can handle it.

I have no hors d’oeuvres, I have a house that is a disaster, I have horrible, wild children who think food is for dancing, and I want to run and scream and hide. Some days I hate being a mama.

This is one those days I hope my children forget. I’m off to cry.

Hairyshoefairy at Organized Chaos had a contest where she has offered to to do something nice for three people, the three people then have to then do something nice for three more people. You get the idea-

But in this area, “Doing something nice” means MAKING them something. And I was one of the winners on her site! You know what that means? Besides getting something uber cool made by the follically blessed Fairy of Shoes, I get to have my own contest!

That’s right mama’s- It’s the Dandelion Mama Pay It Forward Contest. Woo-hoo!

All you have to do is leave a comment on this thread, and I will randomly select three winners to receive a home-made gift. Made by me. With my hands. Comments will be open until, eh, let’s see… how ’bout midnight on Thursday? Sounds good.

So, leave a comment, get something cool. I promise- it will be cool. I’m even taking requests from my three winners- how bout that?

But remember, the catch is, you then have to do something awesome for three more people. Have fun! Comment! Tell your friends (or don’t and increase your odds!)

So Jeffrey’s school is going on field trip to day to a local swim center- and each Tuesday for the next six weeks- to spend time learning to swim.

Aside from the fact he does NOT know how to swim and sending him with strangers makes me nervous, after talking to the school staff I did sign his permission slip and packed him off with a towel and some swim trunks today.

Then about an hour ago, I got a call from another first-grade mom, whose son is in another classroom- they went yesterday. Evidently, her son came home with some interesting stories about naked grown up men in the locker room, and even about someone (adult) shaving themselves in the shower. WHAT?!

So now I’m panicking, and thinking I had better get down there and supervise him myself, and wondering if this is even a good idea. In this day and age of predators and creepy freaks who like little boys, is sending a group of 6 and 7 year-olds into a locker room such a hot idea??

I can’t go in the men’s locker room, obviously, but I don’t really want my little boy alone in a locker room with grown men, either. Am I over-reacting? I have a tendency to do that…

What do you think? And more importantly, what would you DO?

Ostheimer Toys. I actually set up this shoot for a client.

 Germany. Munich specifically. Feels instantly like home.

Haba Toys. Wouldn’t you just have LOVED this as a kid?

Elsa Beskow children’s books. Enchanting.

 European children’s designs. MMMmmmmmm. So good.

 Haagen Das Coconut Ginger Sesame Brittle. *slobber*

 Autumn. Frost on the falling leaves. Chill in the air…

 Nuremburg at Christmas. It’s like a fairy tale.

 Spectator pumps! And Maryjanes, too- Heaven.

The counsel is, if you clean up after yourselves, there will be less to do in the long-run.  I though I would give it a try. Being the slave to whimsy that I am, my normal routine is to let things slide until we can no longer function with ease, then bust out the Napalm and clean like crazy. Repeat cycle as needed.

Well, I tried it. All week, I committed to keeping up on things. I spent all day Monday cleaning, and I really really mean cleaning- the boys room, top to bottom, including under the beds- the bathrooms, kitchen, all laundry, floors, fingerprints, the whole kit and caboodle. By Monday night, I was pooped, and still hadn’t gotten to the basement, my sewing room or folded the piles of clean laundry.

No biggie, right? I spent Tuesday finishing up all the stuff I didn’t get to on Monday. I also tried, since the house was pretty dang spotless, to just keep up on the clutter. If my home is already clean and orderly (and by Tuesday night, it was), keeping it so shouldn’t be such a big deal, that’s the theory, right?

Well, let me tell you what the reality is: A house with little kids is a constant rain of clutter. I spent the next three days reminding my kids to pick up after themselves, wiping down the counters, sweeping the floor with the idea to avoid having to mop again, still folding laundry, picking up after Abby to keep the toy clutter under control, and continually exercising the idea that if I just did a little bit each day, the weekly tasks would be quicker and easier. Wrong!

By Saturday, I was so freakin’ tired, I just threw my hands up and said Forget It!- and withing three hours, my house looked like it usually does: Cluttered, but full of love and creativity. I spent the week trying to save myself energy and effort in the long run, but I traded my happiness and easy way for a future promise. It didn’t work.

What happened was, instead of picking up the chess board from the floor once, I picked it up twelve times; instead of doing ten loads of laundry one day, I did two loads of laundry every day; instead of waiting until the sink was full and busting out the dishes, I did dishes all day long. It sucked.

And, it sucked the creativity right out of my home.

So, I’m reverting back to my old ways. Starting immediately. It works for me, it works for my family.  I will never be the best homemaker out there, but I will be a happy mama, wife, artist and woman.

So what if my floors only get mopped once a month. Bite me.

Beanie, shouting, even though he’s two feet from me: “Mom! Guess what my favorite color is!?”

I look down at my precious just-turned-four year old- he is holding a jar of peanut butter and a long spoon, and there is more peanut butter on him than there is left in the jar. His toenails are painted a sparkling, glitter blue, and with his orange pretty pants, he has paired a ruffled turquoise shirt that belongs to his little sister. His orange hair is cow-licked up in the back, and my heart swells with love for this mysterious little boychild.

Me, smiling: “What’s your favorite color, Baby?”

Beanie, chest puffed out, eyes bright and covered in peanut butter: “Rainbow!!”

Hmmm. I guess that just makes sense.

At Mommy Wars today, talking about one of my Soapbox projects. Check it out.

I’m ready to go! Let’s get on with it! It’s November, and if I could get away with it, I would put my tree up tomorrow- no, today! I would I would would would! Isn’t that specimen above just the most horrendous thing you’ve ever seen? I thought so, until I saw this:

Something about it just SO wrong! It bothers me- really, really bothers me. If this were near me, you would have to tie me up to keep me from grabbing the hedge clippers and lopping the dumb things apart. Be free, I say! Be free!

Onward to Christmas! Hooray!

(By the way, I’ve signed up for the NaBloPoMo, or whatever the heck the acronym is, and I promise to post at least one new post every day this whole month. Maybe sometimes two or three! Not promising high-brow literature or anything, but it should be at least entertaining. For a minute or two. Maybe. …aaaaaaanyway….)

While yesterday was All Saint’s Day, today is the lesser known day, All Souls Day- in which ALL the dead are honored, not just the departed Saints of Christendom.

When someone departs the world, we have multitude of ways of dealing with our loss and grief, and of maintaining their memories. Setting aside a day to honor and remember them is especially vital for passing on the reality of who our ancestors were to our children.

Today I am going to tell my kids stories of my grandparents. Today I remember…

My grandmother, Kathryn. Abby is named for her, and not a day goes by that I don’t think of her in some small way. 

My Grandpa Jack. I wrote about him here.

My paternal grandparents, Eleanor and Everett. In life, there was no opportunity to get to know them well, but every time I look in the mirror, I see Eleanor, and my children heavily favor that bloodline. I wish I had known them better.

My grandparents Herbert and Virginia- they loved me even though they didn’t have to. Because of circumstance and distance, I didn’t know them as well as would have liked, but they are remembered fondly nontheless.

Who will you remember today?

While we in the United States tend to celebrate death with the macabre festivities of Hallowe’en, I kind of like the old Catholic and Latin traditions of November 1st being a day of celebrating and honoring our own dead family members. Here’s my cheat-sheet on what the deal is… Don’t quote me or anything- this is from my feeble and toddler-addled memory!

Like most holidays we currently celebrate, the roots of these days are lost in the haze of history, and as is so often the case, they are actually thought to be Christian efforts to co-opt more pagan and/or Roman festivals. The roots for Halloween lie in the pagan Celtic festival of Samhain- a day when it was thought the veil between the worlds of the living and the dead was the thinnest.

In an effort to arrest some of the bacchanalian excesses of the Samhain celebrations, the Christian church adopted the following day as All Hallows Day, to encourage the peasants to remember and celebrate the departed dead in Christendom. When this happened, Samhain became All Hallow’s Eve- and you can clearly see the etymology for Hallow’een.

In Spain and Latin America, traditionally October 31- November 2 were the days of the dead. Rather than warding off spirits like the pagans in northern Europe, they celebrated their dead family members with food and visits to cemeteries to clean and decorate graves.

Really, when it gets down to it, all of these festivals and celebrations are to acknowledge the dying of the year, the waning of light in the world (if your seasons are based on the northern hemisphere model), the harvesting of crops and an awareness of ancestry and of death.

In my book, that’s just plain cool.