Operation Organization: The Meal Planning

Two Saturdays ago I was unloading groceries at 6:00 pm and thought to myself, "I've gotta make a change here." As an increasingly busy homeschooling mama to four, my Saturdays have gone from busy to crazy to downright insane in the last year or so. I used to have my weekdays to run errands, plan meals, do the grocery shopping, and clean the toilets. Even with one and then three babies in tow, I was generally able to manage the household chores and errands between Monday and Friday, with the occasional there is no way I am hauling the kids with me trips saved for Saturday mornings.

People, those days are long gone. In the last couple of years I went from three to four kids, and from homeschooling one child to homeschooling three. During the week I have almost no time for anything but teaching the kids, getting them to and from their activities, and throwing dinner (sometimes literally) onto the table at 6:30. Everything I used to do throughout the week has made its way to Saturday. Saturday has, in turn, made its way to a nightmare.

I narrowed down the nightmare to three main areas of things I need to manage: meal planning and grocery shopping, household cleaning, and homeschool preparation. I've decided to attack them one by one, and I've decided to start with mean planning.

I currently spend at least three hours every Saturday with meal planning and grocery shopping. First I haul out the dog-eared manila folder of recipes that I've been meaning to organize into a better system for the last six years or so. I flip through it and pick out the meals we'll have for the week, jotting down all the grocery items I'll need. Tick, tock, tick tock, tick tock. Oh, I think I'll have another cup of coffee, I think with a big sigh. Then I peruse the pantry, fridge, and freezer, checking to see all that needs to be replenished and adding it to my list. A few more sips of coffee, a little bit of daydreaming, a few interruptions from the kids. Tick tock, tick tock. Then I take my list and climb into the car to fight both Saturday road traffic and Saturday grocery store traffic (my own private hell), purchase everything that I need (often at more than one store in order to stretch the grocery budget), load it all into the trunk, and head home through Saturday traffic. Tick tock, tick tock. Then I need to unload it all from the car, drag it in to the kitchen, and put it all away. It's about this time every week, as I glance at the mid-afternoon clock and realize I only have accomplished one of the many items on my to do list, that I wearily shake my head and say to myself, "Something has got to change."

It occurred to me that if I only did this once per month, rather than every week, I would save myself three hours and a migraine every Saturday. Honestly, most of you are probably already doing this, but for some reason I have never transitioned to consolidating this giant task into one big event rather than many, many little ones.

That is about to change! I love me a big organizational project. Check back later this week for how I am getting my meal planning in gear!

His Kind of Cool

This little guy snagged two bucks from the tooth fairy for his right front tooth, and he's been hanging onto it in hot anticipation of a trip to the dollar store. The idea of wandering up and down those aisles bursting with cheap, colorful, possibly carcinogenic knick knacks is like drinking deeply from the well of possibilities for my children; it is their nirvana. He'd been asking us when we might be available to transport him there, as he had a purchase in mind. Every time he talked about it his little eyes twinkled, his little mouth curved up, and he'd launch into a dance, sort of a cross between a jig and a hoedown.

He wanted... eyeglasses.



When I was a kid and was told that my extreme myopia meant that I would have to go to school for the rest of my life with coke bottles perched above my nose, I was devastated. I hated them. I refused to wear them, walking like Helen Keller to the bus stop every morning, tripping over large and obvious objects as I insisted I could see just fine. I once got on the wrong bus, for Pete's sake, and was about to leave for the other side of the suburb when my friend Megan banged on the window and screamed, "You're on Bus 9, not Bus 6!"

But my little guy, so firmly his own man, wanted the very thing that acutely grieved me when I was a kid. So off he went in search of eyeglasses, and home he came, looking like a seventy-five year old man in his oversized readers. He is so proud of them. Every morning he puts on his bathrobe and his giant glasses and gets everyone their cereal bowls, a mini Elton John scurrying about the kitchen.





I asked him if I could write this, and read it to him before I hit publish. I explained to him that this little blog has become one of the most valuable things I own, because it is a record of the moments we've spent together. Of all of my kids, he is the most sensitive, the most concerned about what others think of him, and I needed him to know that I was not poking fun at him. I delight in his uniqueness, and one of my biggest prayers for him is that his ears will grow increasingly deaf to the voices of those around him saying there's only one kind of cool.

"You laugh at me because I'm different. I laugh at you because you're all the same."

-John Davis

Homeward Bound

Traveling at night, the headlights were bright

but soon the sun came through the trees.

Around the next bend

              the flowers will send

the sweet scent of home in the breeze. ("Home," Bonnie Raitt)

We are home, and our hearts are full. So grateful for our Pittsburgh tribe. 

There's a Piano in the Kitchen and the Kids have the Flu, but It's Sure Nice Talking to You...

Anyone remember that old Harry Chapin song "Cats in the Cradle?"

 The piano in the kitchen part wasn't in the original lyrics - I added that :-).

Your eyes do not deceive you. That is indeed a piano in my kitchen. A little bit of reno is going on here in the Smith house!

It's a wee bit exciting and a whole lot annoying. It's dusty and disruptive and - holy smokes - it's loud. Those dirty old yellow floors are suddenly not nearly as offensive to me as they were before all this started. Alas, this will all be worth it in the end. Stay tuned for some spiffy "after" pics touting shiny new floors!

In other news, two of our littles were felled by the flu last week. Sigh. Poor little Chilly had it the worst. Hold me mama. I need you mama. Over and over for 36 hours. On a particularly busy day when I just really needed my hands, this is where he stayed for hours:

As it turns out, even the flu has its up side: I got my baby back for a few days. 

A Chat with Charlie

On this sunny Sunday, a few of my favorite phrases from the two year old in my life:

Mama, I want to carry you.

Translation: I want you to carry me.

In't that sad?

Translation: I am reporting a grievance to you, such as "Max hit me on the head," or "Daddy wouldn't give me any M&Ms;" after I've told you what has been done to me, I'd like you to concur with the unfairness of this situation.

I need you Mommy.
Translation: The babysitter has just arrived, and I've decided I like Mommy better.

What's it called?

Translation: I'm halfway through the ABCs and have forgotten what comes next.

You need a spank!

Translation: You are not giving me what I want.

Mama, I want to hold you.

Translation: I want you to hold me.

No, I beg yoy pardon!

Translation: I have just been reprimanded for something and I strongly disagree.



It's too dike.
Translation: It's too dark.

I just bifed.
Translation: I just threw up.

Big boys get nem nems.
Translation: When I go on the potty, I get an M&M.

Is that yoys?
Translation: Is that yours?

"The angels are stooping above your bed. 

They weary of trooping with the whimpering dead. 

God's laughing in heaven to see you so good; 

the Sailing Seven are gay with His mood.

 I sigh that kiss you, 

for I must own 

that I shall miss you 

when you have grown."

-William Butler Yeats, "A Cradle Song"

In Like a Lion

This is happening:

So this is happening: 

And this is happening:

 

And this is happening:

And this is happening:

When I am old and gray, I will miss these days. So bring on the snow, the cold, the cancellations. We are together, and that is enough for me.

So Long Cabin Fever!

We packed up the kids and the car last Friday and hit the road in search of a little adventure.

We found ourselves a cozy little condo on the side of a mountain and snuggled in for movie night!

Then the three oldest found their ski legs and impressed Greg and me with the mad skills they acquired after their first lesson last week. 

There was time for the pool...

...and the hot tub.

There was hot cocoa with marshmallows...

...and indoor races.

We made some new friends...

and pretended it was summer on the indoor playground.

Until next year, Peek 'n Peak! We had a blast and can't wait to come back!