Yotzeir Or: Light After Darkness

It's taken me almost a full week to be able to write about the horrific events of last Friday, which I still can't comprehend and feel so much grief for the 26 families of Newtown, CT.  As a parent of a child the same age, this feels so close to home, and so terribly, terribly scary.  When sending Sprocket off on the school bus each day this week, a lump forms, a hole is felt, an unsettled air.  I know that each day it will seem more natural, more normal, after all - this is what is supposed to be.  Not the unthinkable.

I remember so clearly after 9/11 being completly on edge and freaked out everytime it seemed that an airplane was "too low" or seemingly off it's usual flight path.  I sat with my students at URI for weeks and healed along with them, most of us being from New York and New Jersey, unable to reach family and friends for hours post-attack.  It was surreal and awful, yet there was so much hope and resilance.  Someone had done something awful to our country, yet we banded together and seemed to become one.  I'll never forget where I was, or what I was doing when the events of 9/11 unfolded and changed life as we know it, much like any of you reading this.

Yet life as I know it is forever changed once again by Friday's senseless act of violence.  While I appreciate the power of social media (as I sit here blogging...), it's a painful reminder of innocence lost - and how much our political and religious opinions still divide us.  What I write here might be unpopular, or for all I know you might cheer along.  But they are my words, my thoughts, and my right to have these opinions. 

In time of crisis, it's natural to embrace faith - after all - many of us choose to pray to a higher power, whatever that may be, and look to our religion for an answer.  I'm glad that so many of us have found comfort in the walls of our churches, synagogues, mosques, altars, prayer groups, etc. etc. etc. because to me it means you have community, which I think is so important, regardless of your belief system. Yet what social media has taught me is the general assumption that there is a all-knowing, go to answer in this crisis. I keep hearing over and over how terrible it is that these families have lost their children right before Christmas.  How these angels are now in heaven and Jesus is watching over them.  People have created multitudes of memes being shared with these concepts, and I'm having a hard time with it.  Because not all these families celebrated Christmas.  Some of the kids were Jewish, in the middle of celebrating Hanukah.  The night before they lit their menorah, they likely opened presents, they reveled in family celebration.  Some of these families might not even celebrate either.  But in our society, everyone just assumes, which I'm acutely aware of this time of year.  After all, I'm a Jew who lives in Maine.  Lets face it, there's not exactly a lot of us.  I'm realistic, I am secure in my identity and faith, and my young children are too.  While disappointed that Santa doesn't visit our house, they get it. I try not to push my faith views on others, and am happy to explain Jewish customs, holidays and thoughts when asked (which around here is A LOT.).  Yet I'm feeling strange seeing these assumptions, and am focused on these families, who have a long road of healing ahead of them (if they CAN find a way to heal)...way past any holiday past or future.  For the Jewish families (I obviously can't speak for other traditions here), at the funeral service of their children, they said a prayer that they will say every day for a year, called the Mourners Kaddish.  I'm sharing this link from the Jewish Reform Movement about bereavement in case you want to learn more about concepts *I* grew up with, and what kinds of things happen when a Jewish family mourns.  I mention the Mourner's Kaddish specifically, because what always struck me is that in this prayer, it actually says nothing about death. It thanks G-d.  It blesses G-d. It praises G-d. But most of all, it asks for peace.  Peace to all.  Peace for self. Peace on the world. Amen.

One last thought: Judaism has a morning prayer called Yotzeir Or, which is translated as a prayer for morning sun. The concept of the Yotzeir prayer is thanking G-d (however one might translate what G-d is for them) for creating light after darkness.  It's a prayer that is supposed to be said every day, and holds special meaning for me outside of the Mourner's Kaddish, which I have said every day since the first funeral happened.  The idea that each day, we can find light from darkness...well that's a powerful thought to me.  So today I'll continue to pray.  I'll pray that what divides us can still make us one.  That these families will find peace.  That the kids and teachers that lost their lives on Friday are in a safe place now, whatever that concept/place may be.  That their light will forever live on.  And that we will ALL be able to find light after darkness.

Yitgadal, V'yitkadash...

Charlotte
Rachel
Olivia
Dylan
Dawn
Jesse
Ana
Grace
Anne
Emilie
Noah
Jessica
Lauren
Mary
Victoria
Daniel
Josephine
Madeleine
Catherine
Chase
James
Jack
Caroline
Avielle
Benjamin
Allison

Please click here to visit the Newtown Patch's website on how you can help.
AMEN.

Bring on the Starch!

Everyone knows that on Hanukah, we Jews eat potato latkes.  Ok, maybe if you're not Jewish you have no idea what I'm talking about.  Google it.  Potatoes. Shredded. With onions. Eggs. Etc. FRIED.  Key is fried.  It's not Hanukah until you smell like a latke.  And since I've been there, done that on the first night of Hanukah this year, I'm all set smelling like a potato pancake.  Yet for some reason I'm still craving potatoes.  Obviously I just haven't had enough starch.  What?!

Really it's just because I love potatoes.  All forms. Mashed. Baked. Broiled. Scalloped.  Wait, wait, I'm getting hungry typing this so I better contain myself.  Which brings me to this blog post: potato soup.  As in I wanted more potato-y things this week and didn't feel like frying anything.  So I went to my favorite distraction, Pinterest of course and found myself staring at a potato soup recipe.  And since I don't really follow directions well (hence my baking skills are not quite top notch), I used it as inspiration and decided to make my own recipe based off of a few others I found. 

AND IT'S FREAKING AWESOME.

So awesome that I made lame facebook posts about said soup all day as it was cooking in the slow cooker.  And I promised the recipe if it came out good. Since I'm all about spreading the positivity, there's nothing more positive than YUMMY SOUP.  BRING IT ON!

Why just post the recipe on facebook as requested? Why not share the awesomeness with the world aka the 5 of you reading this?  So I present you my version of a recipe, which I expect you to all immediately start making this soup.  Especially since it's going to snow in a few days.  Really - the weather man said so. And that's the truth.

Amy's Not-So-Famous Slow Cooker Potato Soup

Ingredients:
(gather these up first!!)

• 1 bag of frozen hash browns.  I used the southern style ones.  Which means they come diced in pieces.  If you're not lazy like me, you could actually peel your own potatoes and dice them up in little pieces.  I just don't have that kind of energy people.
• 1 can of cream of chicken soup.  (I used low sodium/low fat)
• 2 cans of chicken broth. (again, low sodium, low fat.  It works out to about 24 oz of broth.  I bought one of those boxes of broth which was 32 oz and used most of it.  I'm a bad measurer.)
• 1 block of cream cheese. The standard size? I think it's 12 oz.  I used full fat.  It's pretty much the only fat in the soup.
• Pepper.  I used straight up from the pepper shaker.  Just shook a bunch in.  Use however much you want.  How's that for specific?
• Optional: bacon bits.  I heart bacon.  I know, I know, it's not very kosher of me.  I heart it anyway.  And in my opinion, good potato soup needs bacon bits.  Use as many as you want.  Again, so specific of me.

Directions:

• Place potatoes in slow cooker.  Poor all soups on top.  Add in pepper and bacon bits.  Mix it all together.  This is complicated, right?

(this is what it looked like.  all watery and non-yummy like.)

• KEEP THE CREAM CHEESE IN THE FRIDGE! You don't need it yet.
• Cook the potato/soup/bacon/pepper concoction on low for 6 hours.  I set my slow cooker on 8 hours so it would go longer for the next step.
• After 6 hours, get that cream cheese out of the fridge, open it up, take it out of that vacuum packed foil wrapper and plop it on top of the what now looks like soup.  Right in the middle.  You might want to stir the soup mixture first, and then plop the cream cheese in.
• Put the cover back on and let it cook for another 20-30 minutes.
• Take the cover off, the cream cheese will be all melty (I promise) and mix it all together.
• Cover back on, cook for another 10-20 mins and restir.
• Eat.  It's good.  I promise.

finished product.  non-watery and totally yummy-like.

See you next time for another episode of Amy's Kitchen! (maybe.)

Feeling Like a Sham.

Hellllllo out there in internet-land!

I had really, really good intentions with this blog.  I was going to let my go-get-'em attitude shine through. Inspire millions (ok, maybe 5 of you.  3 of you?  I'll settle for 1.) to BEE POSITIVE and remind ourselves that the good outweighs the bad. The glass is always half-full! And when life hands you lemons, make lemonade! Shall I cliche some more?

Well, then I moved.

I left everything I knew (for the last 13 years at least) to live a new adventure with our family. YESSSS! We get to meet new people! Make new friends! Experience nature (still haven't seen ONE MOOSE in the backyard for the record...)! Explore new places!! YES YES YES and did I say YES?!?!!?

Except everything isn't always going to be sunshine and butterflies.  And since I'm not super-human, even though I like to pretend I am sometimes, gasp, Amy Bee isn't always positive. Sometimes I'm downright stompy. And can you blame me? I've never hucked a piece of wood into a wood stove. I've never listened to coyotes howl at night when I am trying to sleep. I moved to a place where I have no friends, no connections, and for the life of me can't figure out where anything is in the supermarket.  Cranston Stop & Shop, where are you when I need you?!? (Although there's something to be said about being able to buy my Salted Karamel Stoli right next to the potato chips....)

So for all of you telling me how together you think I am, and what an awesome job I've been doing with this transition, I thank you.  Each day I meet new people, I settle in and hey - I even finally found myself a doctor yesterday (granted it was a necessary visit thinking I had an ear infection....).  I'd consider that a major accomplishment.  And that Target that I found the first week here - yep, still my best friend.

While my connections and network grow, little by little, I know that this foreign land will no longer be so foreign.

And with that I leave you with my Bee Positive song of the day (or week, month, year....):
Phillip Phillips' - Home

Hold on, to me as we go
As we roll down this unfamiliar road
And although this wave is stringing us along
Just know you’re not alone
Cause I’m going to make this place your home

Settle down, it'll all be clear
Don't pay no mind to the demons
They fill you with fear
The trouble it might drag you down
If you get lost, you can always be found

Just know you’re not alone
Cause I’m going to make this place your home

Settle down, it'll all be clear
Don't pay no mind to the demons
They fill you with fear
The trouble it might drag you down
If you get lost, you can always be found

Just know you’re not alone
Cause I’m going to make this place your home

Bee Nice!

An observation of Northern New Englanders: they are, how do I say this, really, really, REALLY nice.  Like beyond nice. As in, this Jersey girl doesn't get it.  (and yes people, I know I've lived in RI for 13 years...)  You mean to tell me that the citizens of Maine genuinely smile at strangers? Let cars go at a stop sign?  Wait wait - forget the cars - let PEOPLE walk across the street and actually pay attention to those pesky pedestrian crossings?!? For the love of everything rational, this nice-ness is out of control.

Ok, I kid, it's actually quite refreshing.  I'm so used to that fast-paced lifestyle where everything is so rush-rush.  You don't look people in the eye let alone say hello to those you don't know. And driving?  Well everyone knows that's a free for all.  Don't get in my way. (Hey, you can take the girl outta Jersey, but you certainly can't take the Jersey outta the girl.) But here in Maine, it's just the opposite.  I've had full out conversations with the kid at the Burger King drive-thru window.  I've gotten unsolicited advice from other moms about great places to take the kids around here - and it wasn't all bossy-like, they were GOOD suggestions! Strangers make my kids giggle in the farmer's market and it's not weird or uncomfortable. What's up Maine? Why are you all so nice here?

I'm hoping and praying that it's not because you all only have a few short months of non-hibernation once the cold sets in and we start getting 2 feet of snow a week so that you are just craving human interaction.

Maybe I can get used to this nice thing and slow down a little.  Maybe. After all, I don't want to ruin my rep. ;)

State of...Confusion!

Ok, you got me, I am a complete and total slacker with this blog.  I had really good intentions of updating it regularly.  But then, well, life keeps getting in the way.  And facebook games. Since it's been from early April that I've written anything here's the brief synopsis to catch you up:

Sprocket turned 5.
I turned 36.
Figgy decided to potty train when he feels like it.
And the number one biggest thing is that my kick-arse husband got a pretty amazing promotion in radio-land.

Which brings us to the title of this blog post, "State of...Confusion!" -- seeing as how said promotion is 3 hours north of our homebase in Rhode Island.  As in Portland, Maine.  Now what I'm about to say might have a slight manic edge to it, but the reality is that this huge life transition started all of about 8 weeks ago.  That's right, ONLY 8 weeks.  8 weeks to tell our family and friends we were moving, 8 weeks to put our house on the market, move into our company rented apartment in Maine, leave the Rhode Island job, start the Portland job, have no idea where we're going, what we're doing, what's up or what's down.  Sprocket and Figgy keep asking me what state we're in and I honestly have to think about it as we're doing so much up and back on good ol' route 95. Hence the confusion.

The kids and I spend half (sometimes 3/4) weeks here in Maine, visiting rental properties, exploring playplaces (and learning that it's a pre-requisite that all MUST have Ikea furniture), and going to the beach (even when it rains.).  It's one big giant vacation for them, and they cheer when we pull into the Hannafords parking lot to go food shopping, because to them this is FUN! EXCITING! It's not Stop and Shop! It's something different! NEW! They sell wine, beer and liquor in the super market! (Ok fine, that last one was for me...).  Point being that while we're trying to navigate all the grown-up "stuff", the kids are just enjoying the wild ride.

I've had little victories.  I haven't gotten lost driving around in all my exploring.  I've already started networking up here to land myself a job. But most importantly, I found the Target all on my own. Big sigh of relief to see that familiar red and white bullseye.

My husband and I are the kind of people that believe that when you focus your energy on what you want to have happen, it will.  He has to remind me of this a lot sometimes because I tend to get bogged down in the details.  I should feel like the kids do, like we're on vacation, an exciting adventure, but then I get myself sucked into the negativity hole: we need to sell our house! we need to find a new house here! we need to get Sprocket registered for kindergarten in Maine! we need to find a pre-school for Figgy. NEED NEED NEED NEED NEED NEED.  It's giving me a headache.

So here's my announcement to the world. He's probably going to just roll his eyes at me because he thinks I don't listen to him, but it just takes me a while.  I'm a Taurus after all.  I'm letting it go and instead making sure that I'm focusing on what I WANT.  What WE want. We're gonna move here (he already works here!). She's gonna start school (can't have a truancy notice at age 5 after all).  Everything is going to happen that NEEDS to happen.  And since we/I are believers in this whole energy focusing thing, do me a favor and focus some of your energy our way.  It can't hurt, right?

I know it's only natural to feel overwhelmed with this amount of stuff going on, but the reality is that I AM EXCITED!!! So far this place is very cool, surrounded by water, scenic views and lots, and lots of hippies.  Bring it on Phish-heads, Amy Bee is HOME.

A Trying Few Weeks

It's safe to say that in the last few weeks, I've been struggling with the whole concept of "bee-ing" positive, hence my lack of blog posts.  I was having a hard time faking it and if I created a post, well, I was feeling fraud-like.  After all, the whole reason I started this blog was to reinforce the power of positive thinking, and if I was feeling down and frustrated, and the farthest thing from bee-positive, well, it's safe to say it was a challenge.

But today, I decided to rise to the challenge and forgive myself for being, umm, human.

Let's face it, everything is not going to go the way we want it to.  There's going to be struggles.  There's going to be moments of sheer aggrivation when we throw our hands in the air and yell, "I give up!!" (Or in my case, "Serenity NOW!!!" - thank you George Costanza.)  Every day, and every moment of every day is not going to be perfect.  So instead of getting mad and STAYING mad about it, because, honestly, what good is that really going to do except close yourself off to the possibility that maybe, just maybe everything doesn't suck as bad as you're imagining it to be - embrace it.

That's right, I said embrace it.  And no, it's not always going to be easy, and you're not always going to want to embrace it, especially in those down-low, extra-sucky moments.  So allow yourself to have the moment, and then hug it, wrap it up, put a bow on it, and then blow it a kiss goodbye.  I can almost guarantee that the more time we spend focusing on the negative, we're going to miss the good in the middle.  And if we miss the good, what fun is that?

So yeah, it was a crap-tastic few weeks.  I could go through a laundry list of all of the things I'm frustrated/upset/annoyed/etc. about and complain about it in full details for those of you that care to read this blog.  Will it make me feel better? Maybe. Will it change anything? No.  I can't un-break my finger.  I can't bring my beloved kitty Thea back from the dead. I can't heal my mom's pancreatitis.  I can't make my 5 year old listen, especially by yelling.  Add croup to the 2 year old. And let's not forget a bed-ridden stomach bug. The list is longer, but you get my point.  There's that serenity prayer (ha, there's that word again) that says something like "G-d, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference."

Here I am, repeating those words, and realizing the difference. Do you hear me universe? Realizing it. Just took me a while to get there. Silly human.

Bee Healthy

I, Amy Bee, joined a gym.  Wait, wait, let me say that again (mainly because I'm not totally wrapping my head around this fact either).  I joined a gym.

Those of you that know me, well, you know I'm not exactly a gym person.  I dislike workout schedules.  I dislike sweat.  I dislike working out next to sweaty people. I don't really care for locker rooms.  They smell.  And I don't do well with things that smell bad. But most of all, I dislike exercise. Let me retract that last part a little bit and amend.  I dislike scheduled workouts, most exercise machinery, sweating, working out in general, did I mention sweating?, grunters in classes and overly chipper instructors.  And working out. And sweating.  Have I made myself clear? I am not exactly the "let's go for a run! It'll be fun" type.  If I walk on a treadmill, it's usually slowly, and no, contrary to popular belief, I am NOT trying to "race" the person next to me. I don't do spin - too many speed variations and I like to pedal at one pace.  Plus there's more sweating there.  Yoga and I don't really get along well, I'm the one trying not to giggle as I attempt tree pose. Shall I go on? I believe my point has been made.

So how did I of all people end up at a GYM of all places?  Oh, and not just any gym mind you.  If Amy Bee is going to go for something, I go all out.  I'm talking a 33,000 (let me just spell that out for you because I think it has much better impact: thirty-three-THOUSAND) square foot gym.  I was on the phone with my BFF the other day as I pulled up to the building for the first time and got hysterical laughing at the sheer immense-ness of the building.  I definetly laughed, and I'm pretty sure I said something to her like "it looks like our high school." She was as shocked as I was that I was about to walk into this place.

But I digress. I need to backtrack a little for the rest of my story to make sense.  I wasn't always an inactive, slightly pudgy woman. (Although everything I said before about the sweating, grunting, et. al. - that part has NEVER changed.)  I was a lifelong dancer from the age of 2 even taking classes in college. You name it, ballet, tap, modern, lyrical...sometimes 3-4 classes a week.  My family to this day takes pride in reminding me of my favorite thing to yell at them, "Dance is my LIFE!!!!!"  It's safe to say I was in pretty good shape.  THIS was my exercise though.  Dance.  And I never felt like it was exercise because I was DANCING! Dance to me wasn't something I did to be healthy, it was something I did because it was part of my soul. The rush of feeling the music and expressing myself through dance was just who I was and what I did.  I never really considered the health benefits.

When it came time for gym class in school, I made every excuse in the book not to participate.  I'm not particularly good at any sport and was the kid that always got picked last. And to be honest, I didn't really care, because I didn't have any desire to do it to start with. Oh and forget about when they would make us do weight training in high school.  Ugggggh.  Me? Lift weights? While people sweated and grunted around me? Forget it. So I danced (and um, dabbled in cheerleading...) and ate whatever I wanted and was stick-thin.

Of course in college this changed slightly - I mean come on - who *doesn't* gain the "freshman 15" - but I was still a pretty active person.  A little rounder, but active. I mean for real, in order to get to my car, I had to literally park over a mile from my dorm.  It's safe to say I needed my car a lot, and walked many, many miles a day.

Fast forward to about 11 years ago.  I'm a busy, active, young professional, working on a college campus and still walking all over the place. Enter what I refer to as "the accident."  I was driving myself, ironically to my doctor's office for an appointment, and was stopped waiting to turn into the office park when someone hit me from behind.  Going quite fast.  I'll skip all the details, but the end result was permanent disc damage at the top of my back/base of my neck. My very active life as I knew it came to a standstill, and what followed was many years of physical therapy, pain management and weight gain. Add having two kids into the mix and the weight gain increased, while the activity remained at a standstill.  In the middle of the last 11 years, I was diagnosed as a Type II diabetic, which in my case is genetic (pretty much my entire family has it, from parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles...you name it), but the weight gain and minimal activity wasn't helping. I went through a brief span of time (about 6 months before I got pregnant with Sprocket) that my body was feeling good, not exactly pain-free, but good enough to resume some exercise (I bought a recumbent bike and my awesome sis-in-law and bro-in-law gave us their "old" treadmill) and was able to lose some of the poundage and start to get my body back in shape.  But to add insult to injury (forgive the pun), about 2+ years ago, someone hit me from behind AGAIN while I was waiting at a traffic light.  I know, right?!?  Disc injury re-inflamed, back to physical therapy and pain management.  Bring on the weight gain.  It's safe to say that the last 11 years have been a vicious cycle with my body, gaining, losing, active, inactive, different pain levels all while taking on the challenge of raising a young family, working full-time, and battling a disease I'm never going to get rid of.  I've for sure had my ups and downs, but through it all I guess I've always felt like skinny, healthy, dancer Amy has still been inside, screaming to come back out.  But I've also reconciled the fact that skinny Amy doesn't need to exist to BEE HAPPY, but HEALTHY Amy does need to exist to BEE HAPPY.

Back in August, my daughter's dance studio posted a sign that they were going to start offering Zumba classes.  After a lot of cajoling from other dance moms (yep, I am a dance mom now, don't judge me.) AND the owner, everyone finally convinced me to try it out, after all, zumba was really more like dancing, right?  Let me tell you, after my first class (which surprisingly I loved), I thought about Zumba and started to sweat.  And I realized that while I wasn't a dancer anymore, here was my connection to something I loved.  Maybe because it was taking place in an actual dance studio helped push me along. So for the last 8ish months, I've been attempting to go to this class 1-2 times a week.  I can't say I really lost any weight doing it, but dancer Amy is starting to revive herself, even with all the jiggling rolls.

In my quest to find a healthier me, I also started a Shape Up RI team 4 weeks ago, not because I wanted to sweat with other people, but because if I knew I had to be accountable to other people that I would stick to making sure activity happened. (Are you listening Action Heroes? You know who you are!) I guess the timing all fell into place, because as part of Shape Up, I was offered a place in a behavioral weight loss study through Brown Medical School and Miriam Hospital.  I figured I didn't have anything to lose, except maybe the pounds, and needed the kickstart.

I am very proud that in 4 weeks I've lost almost 8 pounds (sticking with 1-2 pounds a week) and I can feel a physical difference.  Which brings me full circle to how I started this post.  I joined a gym.  Partly because we got a crazy discount through my husband's office, and partly because I need the support.  I need the over-chipper instructors yelling at me to "wooooo!" with them.  I need to have more than just a Zumba class to go to if I'm going to force myself to exercise.  I need all these people saying to me, "you can do it!" because guess what, I'm starting to bee-lieve it, and maybe, just maybe, dancer Amy will be ready to strut her stuff once again. Even if it's only in the living room :)

Through the Eyes of a Child

Today was a mommy/Figgy day and I have to say, he's such a trooper for being 2 1/2.  This morning's task: buy a new microwave.  Because that sounds like the most fun you can have with a toddler, right? I'm starting to sense a theme here, with me having to drag him to the work events the other day. 

Anyway, we drove to the big box home improvement store (of course after me "researching" microwaves online) and much to his delight, they had a shopping cart shaped like a race car.  I knew from that moment it would be a great trip.  He "drove" us through the store yelling "look at those tractors mommmmmmmyyyyy!!!!!!! Tractors!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" (aka lawnmowers)  And when we got to the appliance section, the kid damn near lost his mind.  I've never seen a kid get so excited about washing machines, ovens and microwaves.  He was even making the store staff crack up.  Needless to say, we picked out a replacement in about 15 minutes and were on our way.

Next up, food shopping.  No car shaped carts there but you'd think we went to the moon or something by his reaction to pretty much every item on the shelf.  And because we were pretty much bringing the average age down from ohhhh 80 years old (I wish I was exaggerating...), EVERY SINGLE PERSON had to stop and talk to him.  Which he was like oh yeah, I'm all that.  He entertained the masses by singing his ABC's and making up songs about milk.  At one point I said to him, I guess they all want to talk to you cause you're cute.  He responded with a resounding, "I surrrrrrreee am mommy.  I am sooooooooooooo cute!"  How can I get aggrivated shopping with THAT?!

It was fun seeing him get so excited about the little things.  As adults we often overlook everyday "stuff" that we take for granted.  Like the "Big Blue Bug," Nibbles Woodaway on Rt. 95 in Providence,(Figgy waved as fast as he could yelling hiiiiiiiiii Nibbles!!!!  Take care of the carssssss Nibbles!!!!!!!!!!). Or the 5,000,000 vehicles we passed on the road (he made sure to point out specifically concrete trucks, dump trucks, garbage trucks, buses, diggers, firetrucks, police cars...shall I go on?). Or the birds flying (did you see 'em mommy? Geese mommy! Hungry geese! Looking for worms!). I could keep going, but you get my point.  It's nice to take a step back every once in a while and look around.  You never know what you might miss if you don't.

We'll Miss You, Moose and Zee!

Oh Nick Jr.  Really? Why must you mess with a good thing?  Were Moose and Zee and Puzzle Time so offensive to your new program lineup that it was necessary to do away with them completely, without warning? To the thousands of parents out there that also feel my pain, my condolences to you and your children.

I know maybe it's silly, why should we as adults care that Nick Jr. got rid of beloved character mini-clips that ran between shows?  And by shows I mean pretty much anything you can find playing in my house between the hours of 8:30a and 7:30p - the Backyardigans, Fresh Beat Band, Umizoomi, Bubble Guppies.....I could go on, but you get my point. It's almost all my kids watch. I mean it was bad enough when you changed "Marina" on us and we had to explain that one to the confused children.  But why would you get rid of pure educational content that worked??  So that you had more space to advertise your products in your supposedly commerical-free zone? I don't care about math packs or cd's or even your online boost system.  I care that when my kids watch the small amount of tv that we let them, that they are actually learning something while being entertained.

Not surprising, one look at your website doesn't mention a word about a "new look." Funny enough though, in the web browser bar, the little icon is a picture of Moose.  Kinda amusing.  Your facebook page says nothing about it either, and I'm a little surprised that with the hundreds of posts by annoyed parents (on behalf of their kids of course) that you guys haven't even attempted to make any kind of statement.  In my book, that's poor business practice.  It's one thing to make changes; it's quite another to hid behind them.

I'm not going to be all crazy and start signing petitions and all that (if you're interested, check out some of the links other parents have posted on their facebook page), but I instead dedicate this blog post to what Moose and Zee and Puzzle Time represent: learning the right way to pet a dog, how to recycle, saving energy, identifying letters, learning rhyming sounds, sharing with friends, learning how to say I'm sorry.  Did you hear that last part Nick Jr.? Learning how to say I'm sorry.  Didn't you learn anything from Netflix?  Here's me bee-ing positive that with change comes better listening ears.  And I'm not talking about the listening ears of the kids. They hear you loud and clear.



Show Moose and Zee some love on itunes.

Beauty in Art

Today was an "at home" day for me and the kids.  Needed to find something that they'd be udderly fascinated with and that I'd enjoy too.  Enter one of my latest Pinterest finds: crayon art.  Because everyone decides on the spur of the moment to make crayon art, right?  I'm determined to be one of those people that actually *does* something with the things I pin.  So far I've cooked a lot of stuff.  If you ask my husband, I've made a lot of stuff too.  What's another project to add to the list?

Welcome to crayon art with Amy and the kids.  And I actually pre-meditated this one and went and bought canvas and crayons and new glue sticks for the glue gun the other day.

Here's the "before" pic.  Sprocket (aka R - that's what we called her when I was prego with her...) helped me sort all the crayons by color and organize them all.  Achieved mostly easily because Figgy (aka E - that was HIS name) was napping.  Then I hot glue gunned them all onto the canvas and waited for him to wake up, because the next part was um, noisy and involved a hair dryer.

Cue the hair dryer.  Ok wait, let me back up - I realized that I should probably put something on the floor before the melting fun began - so note - you should prob. do the same if you ever dare to do this.  A roll of white easel paper did the trick.  Only everything I've seen on crayon art and hair dryers doesn't mention anything about ummm, splattering.  Yes, splattering.  Luckily any splatter from heating up the crayons and melting them with said hair dryer landed on the leather sofa and wiped right off.  Guess my secret is out, sweet husband of mine ;)  The whole thing took about 20 minutes (about 10 per canvas, maybe a little more) and the kids oohed, ahhed and cheered.  I think it came out pretty cool. 

See, with a little motivation and letting go of fear of the mess, we made some bee-utiful art :) Now let's see how long it takes for us to actually hang it up....

An Adventure Day

I'm going to start this by saying I'm beat.  Like totally exhausted from a beyond crazy day.  I had an adventure day.  Rather my baby boy E had an adventure day.  Although I should correct myself and not say "baby boy" because as Mr. 2 1/2 year old informed me today, he's "not a baby anymore mommy.  I'm a big boy."  And he's right.  My big boy spent the day with mommy driving all over tarrrrr-nation (as his big sister calls it) for some special events that I was helping coordinate for one of my clients. I totally dragged the poor kid from store to store starting at 9:15 this morning until 5pm tonight.  The kid had a 9-5 work day.  And he LOVED it.

I have to admit, I was a little stressed out knowing that I had an insane day in front of me and knowing that he was going to be with me.  Just starting with the concept of constantly have to take him in and out of the carseat everytime we made yet ANOTHER stop was enough to make me shake. Forget about any of the 500 bags and boxes I had in my car that I'd have to shlep as well.  And yeah, was that part a total pain in the arse?  I won't lie, of course it was.  But I wouldn't have changed it and to be honest, having him with me made the day so much better. Better than I could have imagined.

Sometimes I think we exert so much energy worrying about the "what-if's" than focusing on the here and now.  I'm totally guilty of it, I'm not afraid to admit it.  I put so much energy into how difficult the day was going to be instead of embracing it and saying BRING IT ON.

E turned out to be my little helper, putting materials on tables, holding and handing things to me that I needed, and greeting people with his infectious smile and beyond cute way. In watching him and seeing the sparkle in his eyes, I realized how important he felt, and how special.  When your 2 1/2 year old is this proud of what they're doing, it's impossible to not step back and let the stress go.  So I dragged him from place to place, and instead of grumbling about having to do it, we made jokes, we giggled, we high-fived (if you count him yelling - you're too slow!), but most of all, we smiled.

At one point today, he ran up to me and said "hey mommy? you're awesome!"  I was like what did you say?  And he said it again.  And then he hugged me.  And in that moment, my heart swelled and the chaos of the day totally didn't matter.  I had my baby/not a baby anymore/baby with me and all he cared about was that I was his awesome mommy and that we were on an adventure day.  G-d I love that kid.

Maybe there's something to this whole bee positive thing.

Why Bee Positive?

Ok.  I broke down and did it.  Amy Bee has started a blog.  I can hear you all gasping now.

Why now? Maybe I'm bored. Maybe I just needed an outlet.  Maybe I thought people would enjoy reading it.  Maybe it's cause all the cool kids are doing it.  Or maybe it's all that and lots of other reasons I haven't come up with yet.  Either way, here it is.  Me in print for the world to see.  I can't promise that you're going to be enthralled with every post.  But I hope you'll read it anyway, even if I sometimes type like I speak and offend my own grammar police self!

So a "why" of the blog name: "Amy: Bee Positive!" I guess there's a couple reasons.  First - my name is actually Amy Beth.  Over the years people took to calling me AmyB. Which became Amy Bee when I had to pick a name to go on the back of a short lived softball team jersey.  All of this is thrilling, right? I know I know...Fast forward to pregnant Amy over 5 years ago with my baby girl R. Some bloodwork and a doctor with a sense of humor told me my blood type was B+.  BEE POSITIVE.  Are you following me yet? ;)  Add in some actual bees - I'm always facinated how these tiny creatures can work together seamlessly to create sweetness.  And really, how wonderful is it when we work together and create sweetness?

All that plus my newfound quest to find ways to for real, be positive...well, welcome to the blog. I hope you enjoy the ride!  Until we meet again....