My Close Relationship with Halloween

I have always felt a close, personal connection with Halloween. Aside from it being my birthday (the best possible day to be born, if you ask me), it is the one time of the year where you can be someone or something else. Ignoring what happens to Halloween costumes at the collegiate level (Black boy shorts, a little tank top, and cat ears), Halloween in elementary school is nothing short of awesome!

Whether you and your friends dressed as the Little Rascals, you and a playmate were Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble, or you were your favorite super hero, there was always a sense of pride marching in your school's parade flaunting your alter ego.

Growing up, class-moms would deliver ghostly cupcakes, popcorn balls, and various "potions" to the classroom after lunch. We would play themed games, talk about our costumes, have contests, and learn a little about Halloween. It was a free afternoon to play and take some time off from long division and memorizing state capitals.

Times, however, are a'changin'. A friend of mine teaches in Northern New Jersey and because of the food allergy epidemic, Halloween candy is off the table, literally. Similarly other schools, because of the obesity situation in this country, require treats to be healthy. I'm not sure about you but I think carrots on Halloween are about as exciting as the old lady that gives out pennies.

Although a little old, an article written by Dennis Byrne in 2009 for www.chicagonow.com, mentioned that many schools are replacing "Halloween" with "Fall Festivals" because of the negative connotations associated with the name and the pagan celebration. He adds that 66% of adults do not agree with the name change while 15% are not sure. Just last year, Halloween was banned in Isaac Preschool on Phoenix, AZ because they wanted to "keep the focus on learning". The year before Ithaca, NY canceled their Halloween parade because it excluded students of diverse backgrounds and in Massachusetts they not only sassed Halloween but warned teachers to "be careful" about celebrating Thanksgiving and Columbus Day (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/10/31/arizona-parent-jason-bake_n_2049756.html).
Maybe this will cause a rise out of some readers but c'mon man! 

Trick or Treating has changed from roaming the towns with a pack of friends and pillow cases to "organized play" and trips to the mall, walking from store to store. A fact that makes me very sad. No, I am not naive enough to think we live in a world of sunshine and lollipops where my son should wander on his own, ringing doorbells of strangers at all hours, but I do feel that my town, as a community, has more good eggs than rotten and can celebrate the holiday as we did in the days of 'ole when gas was only 99 cents a gallon and cell phones only made phone calls.

Happy First Birthday!

My dad told me that one doesn't realize how fast time passes until he or she has a child.

Truer words have never been spoken.

As the news relives Hurricane Sandy, I have been reliving the past year with Austin. I remember the weird labor/not labor pains that Sunday morning, my emotions in the delivery room, and the joyous aftermath of holding my little man. Then I blinked - and here he is, one year old!

Courtesy of cakeartistcafe.com

Planning a first birthday is kind of an odd thing since the guest of honor could probably care less whether or not you go for the vodka penne or the linguine with marina sauce. He is indifferent to the Halloween theme, his presents (actually he was very into the wrapping paper), or the shape and style of his cake. On the other hand, his mother is all over the internet trying to find fun looking appetizers, scouring the Christmas Tree Store for bargain plates and decorations, soliciting her dad's near perfect handwriting to make labels, and ordering her husband to do menial tasks that have been festering for months (like taking a homemade birdhouse out of our bathroom). Also my family likes to conceive in February so in addition to Austin, my cousin shares his birthday on the 28th, her husband is the 24th, I am the 31st, and my husband follows shortly behind us on November 13th. Although I have accepted the fact that my birthday is no longer significant, I wanted to at least acknowledge all the other aging Scorpios in the house without drawing attention away for my son.

Like any event, once the party began - all was right with the world and if the plates specifically bought for the cake went unused - then let that be the worst of my life's problems. For our costumes, I wanted something we could host in, be comfortable, and didn't cost a fortune. DJ, the excellent sport that he is, tolerate the whole scene and looked just fantastic as Popeye!




At the end of the day, despite his distaste for his sailor hat, our Austin made the perfect Swee' Pea to our Popeye and Olive Oil, enjoyed every bit of his cake, and smiled ear to eat as we sang Happy Birthday to him.

Before you have a little person, you don't think about things like timing a birthday cake around someone's nap, finding a onsie that suits your Halloween costume needs perfectly, or making sure every moment of a party is captured on film.

My Son is going to be 1!

Yesterday we celebrated my son's 11 month birthday. 11 months! I couldn't believe it. It addition to being shocked and amazed at the quickness of time, I realized I was in the final weeks of first birthday preparations. To keep up with the First Birthday Jones', so to speak, I was all over Etsy trying to find the most wonderful first birthday invite (check!), scoured the internet and my town in search of a caterer (check - with a side of sticker shock), and spent yesterday turning parts of my home into a kid friendly, birthday appropriate Halloween Haven (trial and error check!).

Although most of my friends consider Facebook Event invitations suitable and "we'll try to make it" a decent RSVP, I feel sending out actual printed invitations is indicative of four things.
1) This is a real event, not college party,
2) RSVP means RSVP - no probablys, we'll sees, or I'll let you know that week,
3) the names written on the invitation are the expected guests - don't bring your buddy because he is in town, see #1.
4) The start time is the start time - If you are going to be late, fine  but if you come at 5pm - well I will probably be napping.

I wrote in the past about the Lost Art of Excuse Me but I think there is also the Lost Courtesy of RSVP. Between Evites, Facebook, and mass emails - it is hard to keep up etiquette. Personally, I RSVP to everything and then check in to make sure said RSVP has been received but my husband takes more of the laissez-faire approach and wings it. Not cool. 

With all of this said I am constantly checking and rechecking my guest list, texting to make sure all of the invites reached their destinations, and itching for the RSVP date so I can properly stalk the MIA's and see what their plans are. Is this normal? Call it Type A personality, but I feel it most certainly is.

Because Austin is the first grandchild and his father and I are the only makers of grandchildren (as we are both only children), I feel this birthday party has taken on a life of its own. First of all, Austin is having two of them - one in New Jersey and one in Maryland  to accommodate all possible guests. Both have their respective cake, favors, and theme -because without a theme - what kind of parents would we be? Both  include guests with overnight requests, special diets, young children, and personal squabbles and both will include presents.Not that I have anything against gifts, but really - all I want is wipes, diapers, and baby food. The past few days Austin has had more fun playing with the laundry basket than anything that sings, blinks, squeaks, or twinkles.

I won't forget to remember you

Last night Austin was up at 4:22 for some reason. When I checked on him, he had his binky, he wasn't wet - he was just awake. Leaning over the crib, I rubbed his head to calm him down, restarted his mobile but no dice, so I scooped him up and carried him over to his recliner. He was asleep instantly. For a brief moment, I thought about carrying him back to his crib, but then realized I may not have too many more months of this. Unlike my husband, I am not wide in the chest and broad in the shoulders. At almost 11 months, Austin pretty much covers my torso when he lays on my chest and there are only so many positions for him to get comfortable. In any event, I thought I would savor the moment and stay with him in the chair.

September 2013

While he slept, I thought about all of the things DJ and I have done for him so far. Whether it is crawling around with him on the floor, playing fort, or making sure he gets a good night sleep, we are constantly showing him that he is loved. These are things my parents did for me to but I was too little to remember them. Things that I unknowingly took for granted because I didn't know what was happening but, I am guessing, I liked it. I don't know when Austin will have his first memory but I want him to know all the things that happened before that memory came to be. Similarly, I don't want to forget how he is now, his quirks, his habits, his personality. 

I said to DJ the other day that I wished Austin could know us now. Know how we revolved our days about his schedule, waved "hi" and "bye" incessantly in hopes he would pick up on it, made ridiculous sounds to see him laugh, danced with him in the kitchen, and experimented with different food combinations in his baby bullet. I want him to know how funny we are, how hard we tried, and how much he taught us in these first 11 months. I also want him to know that no matter now big he gets, he will never be too big to fall asleep on my lap. 

Donut Day

 Although National Donut Day is a different day of the year, my family has our own Donut Day. August 17th was my Nana's birthday and even if her latest stages of dimentia she knew that she wanted donuts as a birthday breakfast. This wasn't always the case, but as she aged we would all meet at her extended care facility's courtyard with a 12 pack of Dunkin and Box of Joe and celebrate with our matriarch.

Austin enjoying his first Donut Day 

At 4'11 inches my Nana was a one of a kind. Her refrigerator was always stocked with Jell-o and each time we left her house, she should always slip us a $10 or a $20 for "ice cream" or "something nice". She made the best meals, had the best basement to play in, and could be found watching Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune nightly. I remember growing out of a pair of snow boots and giving them to Nana as a hand-me-down. In return I got a coat that was a little to big. I was one of few 6th graders who could swap clothes with her Nana.

After she passed away, we decided to continue the tradition. The one day of the year where low-carb, low-fat, paleo, clean eating, or whatever the diet-of -the-day was was pushed aside and donuts reigned supreme. Inspired by my pear tart success the other day, I decided to bake my own donuts.


Do I dare call what lies below a recipe? No - because although I list four ingredients, there is no mixing and no measuring. It is pure idiot-proof bliss.

What you'll Need:
Pilsbury's Grand! Biscuits
Cinnamon
Sugar
Vegetable Oil


Step 1: Line a cookie tray with parchment paper or (if you are fancy like us) one of those baking sheets and preheat your oven to 425*F
Step 2 : Open a can of Pilsbury Grands! Biscuits. We used the honey flavored one
Step 3: Lay the biscuits out on the cookie sheet and using the lid from your vegetable oil container, punch out donut holes.
Separate and lay your "munchkins" alongside your donuts.
Step 4: Lighly coat all sides with vegetable oil
Step 5. Bake for 7 minutes
Step 6: Top your donuts in cinnamon and sugar (I eye-balled the amount in a bowl, blended, and added more as needed).

This recipe was borrowed from the following link and she coats hers with icing - a taste far to advanced for us: Easy Baked Donuts

Harnessing my Inner Martha

TWO POSTS TODAY!
(crazy!)

Ok so I am a maven in the kitchen when it comes to cooking but I NEVER bake. I stink at it, it is my hell, and I will be that mom that purchases baked good at the store because that is how I have been genetically wired. Sposito/Coccia women can cook but baking = no bueno.

I also never post about food but I was so proud of this little gem (and when you look at it, you'll think - wow, she really must suck at baking because that is the easiest thing ever, but I needed a personal win so let me have it)

I adapted this from Better Homes and Gardens and this is the original recipe: http://www.bhg.com/recipe/pies/country-peach-tart/

But this is what I did:
1 Pastry for Single-Crust Pie (or buy Pilsbury like I did)
2 Tsp of Truvia Baking Blend
1/4 cup of all purpose flour
1/4 tsp of nutmeg
1/4 tsp of cinnamon
3 peeled pears (from our PEAR TREE - take that Barefoot Contessa!)
1 Tsp of lemon juice

1. Preheat over to 375* and prepare pie crust
2. Line a baking sheet with foil, sprinkle lighlty with flour, and roll out pastry (circle, square, trapezoid, whatever tickets your fancy)
3. In a large bowl, stir together truvia, 4 tsps of flour, nutmeg, and cinnamon. Add pears and lemon juice.
Keep stirring until everything is coated
4. Mound pear mixture in the center of pastry, leaving a 2 inch border
5. Fold border up, over peaches and sprinkle top with a little more Truvia (just a little)
6. Bake 35 minutes and, if you feel fancy, broil on low for another 4.

It may not get an A for presentation but I was pretty pleased with myself 

Babies at the Beach

I am selfish at the beach. I like to sit, read my book, and bake. I don't go in the water, I prefer not to talk to anyone, and enjoy being on my own schedule. Ideally, I would go to the beach alone or with someone who has similar antisocial beach practices. It is my time to do my thing and that is that. 

Babies at the beach put a GIGANTIC wrench into my selfishness. First they need to be doused in sunscreen, then you have to put their bathing suits and tops on their slimey, slippery, squirmy, lotioned body. Next you have to take Baby and his towel, beach tent, cooler, bottles, formula, cold water, snacks, blankets, toys, and hat down to the beach with you, in addition to your own crap. Third, you have to watch him, carry him, make sure he doesn't eat sand, escape into the sun, cry, or pee out of his silly water diaper that doesn't hold pee (WTF!). 

You walk down to the water to dip his toes in

walk back up because he doesn't like it

walk back down to rinse off some bodily fluid

walk back up because he is hungry

walk back down because - maybe he didn't like the water the first time, but he might like it now

walk back up for pictures and maybe a nap.

It is insane!

I don't know what I was even thinking packing a book (rookie mistake) or why I thought my 9 month old would be advanced enough for sand toys (JV move) but I did learn that with babies at the beach there is strength in numbers and between four adults, including a husband that does not have the same affinity for lazing in the sand, I was able to get about an hour of uninterrupted tanning in..........over the course of 4 days.