Mother's Day

After a beautiful ceremony, cocktail reception and dinner. 

And after Peter and I played dress up in the photo booth. 

 

Around ten o'clock, the bride and groom wanted to say a little something. Mike led off - he reinforced how stunning his bride looked, applauded the parents, and graciously thanked everyone in the room for being there.

Then Theresa took the microphone. As she composed herself, I started thinking back on our wedding day - how I had scratched this vital part of the agenda at the last minute. I started thinking about what I would have said, the song and dance I would have done, the spotlight shining a little brighter on us, the happy couple. I wondered what she could possible say to make her appear any more beautiful that she already was. Something witty, smart, loving, endearing. I leaned in to listen.

'I just want to thank all the mothers in the room. And want to wish them an early happy Mother's Day.'

I was shocked. It was her special day - her moment to shine - and there she was, shifting the attention away from her glowing smile and onto all the matriarchs who had helped bring Mike and her together. It was a sweet, selfless and inspiring gesture that got me thinking ...


At one point or another during my childhood, I asked my parents why we celebrated Mother's Day and Father's Day, but never Kid's Day. The response - 'Everyday is kid's day.' So unsatisfying. And honestly, so misunderstood until yesterday evening.

As Theresa made her understated remarks, I realized that she was doing what every mother in the room would have done - that is, making her special day about the people she loved. I thought about how my Mom always did this. How it was less about the award she was receiving, and more about the Barry family barbecue following the pomp and circumstance. It wasn't about an expensive car or designer clothing, it was about making sure that her children got the best education. It was making sure she got to the office extra early, so she could be at my plays, recitals, and games in the afternoon. It wasn't the movie she wanted to see, but the one that the whole family would enjoy. It wasn't about getting to the gym or the salon everyday, it was about making sure that her daughter had the perfect prom dress, even if she was going stag. It was about us kids, every day.

I saw this same quality today in the five moms that I celebrated Mother's Day with at the Chicago Yacht Club. How even on their special days, they effortlessly made everyone else feel like a million bucks.

 

How they made sure that their children had their chocolate milk and five extra donut holes.

 

How it wasn't their pretty flower, it was yours.

 

And how the best gift that they could receive was their whole family surrounding them.

I only wish that given my Mother's Day revelation, I could have been with my Mom, who for 33 years has made each and everyday about her children.

Thank you Mom for so thoughtfully, generously, and lovingly making every day as special as possible for me. For setting such a wonderful example and for teaching me that true happiness comes when you pass the mic, shift the spotlight, and lend your applause.  

Lo.

Mayberry

This is what I want. To wake up in the morning, put on a pink robe, and with a kiss, send my husband off to work, dressed in the new blue suit I bought him from Marshall Fields. I want to leisurely read Breakfast at Tiffany's over coffee, and two pieces of toast. I want to get dressed for a day of grocery shopping, bridge playing, house decorating, and dinner making. My hat and gloves are a must. And I want to be surrounded by friendly neighbors, who just happen to drop by for tea, and a piece of cake, and a bit of gossip.  

Before we officially changed our address, a friend of mine told me that I was moving to Mayberry. And despite all the present day negative press that an idyllic imaginary location like Mayberry might get, I've got to say that I was quite excited about the prospect. I envisioned that I was going to a place where a cup of confectioners sugar was just a neighbor away, where Oberweiss delivered fresh milk to my doorstep once a week, where Dick and Jane played with Spot in their neatly manicured back yards, but always using their inside voices, where students skipped to school with apples, and where the grass was equally green on everyone's lawn. 

Although, I'm in love with my new neighborhood, Mayberry isn't exactly what I thought it would be. Some of the neighbors have had to beg, borrow, and steal from banks so they could lay claim to the greenest grass in the community. Spot isn't a cute little Cockerspaniel, he's a genetically modified hybrid dog that doesn't shed, bark, poop or smell. The few kids that I've spotted playing outside, don't know what an inside voice is. And the women who are sending their husbands off to work everyday aren't getting dressed in their Sunday best, they are sporting the latest Lululemon looks, judging whose thighs do or do not touch.

While the present day vision of Mayberry can be as disappointing as the kids that I have spotted smoking pot on the way to school three out of five days this week, there are still many old fashioned elements that make this community very special. Oberweiss does deliver. And I'm about to sign up. The neighborhood butchers already know me by name. The welcome wagon just came to our door. There are more parks and little leaguers per capita that any place else in Illinois. And our neighbors are this close to asking for samples from the grill.  

And as someone who was most likely born six decades too late, I believe that it is my duty to do my part to make Mayberry, as picture perfect as possible.

I'll only turn on the television for major events.

Cocktail hour shakes up about thirty minutes after the Mini and Monster Truck are lined up and put to bed for the day.

There will be fluffy pink cupcakes and the like at my house even though they don't look nearly as pretty as Sweetapolita's.  

 

There will be a Casey's bacon loving brewer in the backyard. And his apron clad bee finishing dinner inside.

There will be records playing, and land lines ringing, and people dressed to receive company.

And until I stumble upon the all access admission ticket of a kid or two or ten, I'll just grab Peter's fishing pole and go whistling down to Salt Creek on the kind of lazy Saturday morning that I'm looking forward to tomorrow. 

Lo.

Doing It All Volume 2

Yes, I am allowed to post two unoriginal, 'volume 2' titles in one week. Yes, I'm allowed to take back what I said about 'doing it all' a couple years ago. My blog. My rules.

After taking my family's favorite mantras of 'making every trip count' and 'sleeping when I'm dead' to the next level this weekend, I gathered both excellent blog fodder and a fresh perspective. That is, that you can most certainly 'do it all' and have a great time doing it, if you tell your crazy weekend plans to key stakeholders, and recruit them to be your enthusiastic support crew along the way.

You can have dinner at the Mark in South Bend on Friday, and power walk around the Lakes with your Mom on Saturday morning.

You can be at Moe and Shawn's wedding at the Basilica on Saturday afternoon, watching the beautiful bride and groom exchange vows and seal them with the best wedding kiss I've ever seen.

 

You can then pack up and drive to Pittsburgh. Yes, you will feel sad (and bad) to leave some of your best friends behind, to miss the reception and celebration and jokers in matching seersucker, but you are comforted by the fact that Peter will party for two and make it to the Backer after the band stops playing.

 

That night, you can carbo load a la PGC and get a decent night's sleep in your childhood twin bed. 

On Sunday morning you can wake up at 5:15, put together your in case of emergency mix, and shew away the butterflies in your stomach. At 7:15, you can be in corral B, find your Pittsburgh Marathon running buddy Drew and suddenly cross the starting line.

You can run the most picturesque, yet challenging marathon course, on a day a little too warm for runners, and keep building momentum along the way because Kassen, Erin and Laura ran alongside you.

 

You can cross the finish line with a personal record of 3:42, a big smile on your face and the feeling that this was in fact, the best marathon ever.

 

Afterwards, you can shower and change and sit down to brunch with friends and family. Then be downtown again at 2:00 PM for the Opera - Mozart's The Abduction from the Seraglio. Which was delightful. Followed by an early dinner at Habitat, a trip to the airport, and a flight home at 8:20 PM.

Yes, you can do it all. And I did it over the course of one absolutely fantastic weekend. But I needed an amazing husband, understanding friends, two very loving, very generous parents, four incredible running buddies, familiar faces all along the course, a network of support from family and friends across the country, and of course, RMHC on my back to get er done. 

 

Yes Lyla, when you are SO much bigger, you can do it all too. And I promise just like your Mommy and Daddy helped me, I'll help you too!

Lo

Pollyanna Cake Baking Volume 2

I thought it would have been my engagement. Then a year later, my wedding. Perhaps our honeymoon or even the big move. Nope, no such luck.

Completely out of left field, the most popular post on my blog popped up. It's title - 'Pollyanna Cake Baking.' About 70 people per week search for 'Pollyanna cakes', find this article and read it. So over the past year, it has racked up quite a score on my analytics report. And until yesterday, I had no idea why.

After receiving a comment about this well trafficked post, and then doing some Pollyanna cake research, I figured it out. That is, that I am not the only one - that there are in fact many others out there who have had love affairs with the carnival cakes in Pollyanna - others that have the same cake fantasies as I do.

However, of all the cooking and baking and cocktail shaking bloggers out there, and of all the layer cake recipes that I went through, no one seems to have published a recipe for a good looking, simple, straight forward, no nonsense Pollyanna cake. And that sweet simplicity is the very essence of what makes Cook's cakes so appealing.

 

So yesterday morning, I decided I would put some time and energy into making a pure Pollyanna cake to improve the search results for these illusive masterpieces. And this time, I played by a set of rules.

• I threw out thoughts of almonds and hazelnuts, curds and custards, fondant and fudge, because Pollyanna cakes only come in three flavors: white, yellow and chocolate; and they are topped with three kinds of icing: white, milk chocolate and dark chocolate. 
• There are only three layers in a Pollyanna cake, don't go sky high with it.
• Cook's cakes look as light and fluffy as can be, and despite my amateur baking status, I've discovered that using a combination of confectioners sugar and granulated sugar in the batter makes the cake a little lighter. 
• Simple butter cream icing is the way to go, but add more milk than you are told. I would say double it. Cook's cakes don't have really thick icing on them.
• Don't think about making it fancy or writing on it. A Pollyanna cake should be cake in the purest sense of the word.
• Even if there isn't a carnival coming to town, make your own event where a piece of Pollyanna cake would fit perfectly. 

Last night, jumping from Disney movie to Disney movie, Peter and I celebrated our very merry unbirthdays and cut ourselves big pieces of my second Pollyanna cake - Three layers of browned butter cake, topped with milk chocolate icing. Nothing more, nothing less.

 

And the best part, was when I put it in the refrigerator, I felt like it matched our house perfectly - a vintage cake, in our vintage house, which keeps looking better every day.

   

(The roses are even starting to bloom.) 

Lo.