As I am sure you are aware (since only enlightened, conscious people read this blog) this coming Monday is Earth Day.  Now, I’m not going to pretend that we have one of those pristine, super-efficient houses, where we have zero carbon emissions, eat only raw food and recycle our rainwater.  But we do try to do a little carbon tiptoeing around here.

Before I was married with kids I hoped that the bigger picture would solve itself.  My single self would ask my single brain things like, “Does it really matter if I throw my plastic in the garbage can?”  Or, after locking my single apartment door, “Is it really going to make a difference if I leave one light on all day while I’m at work?” You know, stuff like that.

However, once I had kids the questions were more like, “By running an extra spin cycle, am I reducing my children’s future access to clean water by 10 years, or 15?”  The gravity of things shift a little when your extended self (a.k.a. your children) have to endure the consequences of your actions by a margin of about 30 years.  Also, the need to set a good example really sets in, once you look into those love-me-teach-me-prepare-me eyes for the first time.  And believe me, if it doesn’t automatically, it certainly will come crashing home the first time you hear your child use a swear word.  Not that mine ever have, I’ve just heard other kids say swears.  Obviously the result of terrible parenting.

Anyway, as parents, I subscribe to the idea that if we adopt practices of conservation, social awareness and a general concern for the state of the planet we inhabit, then hopefully, these traits will be an intrinsic part of our next generation.  From there I am hoping, if i do it right, I can let them do all the work while I drive my retirement-savings-funded Hummer to the McDonald’s Drive-Thru on my way to the golf course.  See, there is a point.

So why not make this Earth Day super fun with lots of crafts and a celebration?  A celebration that focuses on the fact that EVERYONE is trying to do their part to abuse this world a little less.  Maybe don’t make a cake that looks like a dying world-turned-raisin complete with a fiery finale, but you know, something Earth-love related.

I thought I’d share with you a couple of the eco-crafts we’ve done around here lately, and if you like them, you can do them too!

The Paperless Painting Station

As some of you super-sleuths may have recognized, this photo was taken this winter.  I am only pointing that out because they stayed up, and were used regularly until recently.  And by “recently,” I mean, “until Ben ripped them off the door in a two-year-old rage.”  To make these, I took two heavy-duty freezer bags, and put in several gobs of finger paints.  Finger paints work best because they’re more gel-ish.  Watercolour paints mix too easily and you end up with one brown gob.  Not quite as inspiring.

Cracker-Box Toilet Paper Roll Theatre

Sure, they’re not really going to save the world, but they will hurt it a little less by reusing stuff that would have gone in the recycling bin!  Plus, who doesn’t love a good puppet show depicting the importance turning the water off while you’re brushing your teeth?  Eh?  Am I right or am I right?

To make these, we just glued a popsicle stick (reused = GROSS) into the inside of a toilet paper roll for the puppets.  Then we decorated them, because plain old cardboard doesn’t convey the feeling we were hoping to get out of these puppets.  Then for the theatre, we cut a large hole into the side and front of a cracker box, then decorated accordingly.

No-Junk Mail Sign

This one is my favourite, because it works!  Since we hung it, we haven’t had one bundle of flyers, a newspaper, or piece of junk mail.  The same papers that were always booked on a one-way express flight to my recycle bin, now sit on the desk of whoever tried to force them into my mailbox, as a reminder that maybe they should stop printing useless garbage on my kids future!  Win-win!  To make this, we just used an old cracker box (we like crackers) and cut it to the size we thought would suit our mailbox.  Ruby drew a picture of the things she likes about nature, and I attached it to the cardboard.  Then we made a border out of popsicle sticks and decorated it.

To make it hangable, I did this.

Hopefully you can figure it out from the photo, because I’m too lazy to try to type it out for you.  Cover it in packing tape to weather-proof it, and you’re done!  Good luck!

Egg Carton Bouquet

All of the kids got to collaborate on this one.  We just painted some egg cartons, attached them to pipe cleaners, made a little vase and sent them to one sweet lady that we know.  I also added some little button flowers because I am a control freak.  Anyway, those popsicle sticks you see, are glued onto an old salsa jar that also would have otherwise been tossed.  Now I ask you, what looks better?  An old salsa jar in a landfill?  Or a lovely bouquet of flowers that will never die?  I’ll let you be the judge.  (Note: if you pick the landfill I will slap your silly face).

Toilet Paper Snack Holders

One day while Emma and Ben were napping, we decided to surprise them with a snack in a fun little receptacle.  I made one for Emma, that looked like Emma.  Ruby made one for Ruby, that looked like Ruby.  Ruby made one for Ben, that looked like…a dog.  I’m not sure what the message was there, but eating out of a toilet paper tube is fun.  And hopefully not as unhygienic as it sounds.  No one got sick anyway.

Anyway, obviously we just decorated some toilet paper rolls.  No big brainwaves required.  Then we filled them with…

…disgusting, modified corn!  But you could totally fill yours with a nice hearty trail mix or something.

TP Superhero Cuffs

We got this idea from Kate’s Creative Space.  Her’s are about a kajillion times better, but hey, it was fun anyway.  For these, we just cut a toilet paper roll in half, then sliced it through the width (so they can fit over the kids’ hands (or your hands – I won’t judge)).   We decorated them, then threaded a ribbon through two punched holes to tighten them to stay on my children’s flaily arms.  Superhero, superfun!

So there you have it.  Irrefutable evidence that recycling is really fun!  This Earth Day, get out there and plant a tree, get in the garden and go for a bike ride.  Celebrate all that this beautiful planet has to offer.  And if it’s freezing cold and raining, go to Plan-B and stay inside to make these crafts.

Happy Earth Day, my fellow Earthlings!

Lora
xo

So I thought, maybe it’s time for a little mindless fun.

Here, in our neck of the woods, winter is going down with a fight.  Don’t get me wrong, I love winter.  I really do.  But come mid-March, the idea of trading in snowsuits for sunscreen actually makes me salivate.  Picture yourself.  You’re on your knees, stuffed into the small space by your door leading outside.  The gateway between the infernal stuffiness of the indoors, and a massive, unconfined space. You have three excited, small children falling all over each other with one goal in mind: Doorsmosis.  One is holding your hair for support.  The other opens the door and lets the indoor cat, out.  Another has just decided this would be a great time to pee.  An unidentified foot is asking you to put it’s appropriate outdoor covering on it, while a snotty hand mistakes your face for a great resting spot.  Now, in that state, what looks more appealing to you, in terms of preparation to vacate the premises?

This?

They are literally wearing 1000 pieces of clothing, each.

…or this?

And to think I once complained about how annoying it is to apply sunscreen.

Anyway, in the summer, we’re basically outside all day.  Which, I don’t know if you’ve heard or not but kids LOVE.  In the winter, we don’t make it outside nearly as often.  It’s tough with Ben, because with his 12″ (or so) legs stuffed into his fluffy, pillow-like snow pants, it’s really hard for him to walk in the snow.  So we always end up going for “walks” (the quotation marks around “walks” means that I really meant to say “a hellish fright fest of attempting to restrict three stir-crazed children to the confines of the sidewalk while their ears are covered by hats”) instead of just playing, which is what everyone prefers to do.  So even Ruby and Emma aren’t overly jazzed about going outside every day.

By mid-March, winter’s joys turn into winter’s pains-in-the-snow-pants.  The days get long and there seem to be more of than seven in any given week.  So with that knowledge, I wake up every day and think, “Today I am going to make this fun.  Today is going to RULE!”

That feeling has usually worn off by the time we finish breakfast.

But it does last through breakfast!  And that is the reason for this very post.  I’m afraid I’ve developed a problem, painted myself into a corner, and won’t be able to come out until the sun shows it’s warm, fun face.

It all started with this breakfast.

An innocent “toast” to Christmas.

It was (relatively close to) Christmas.  It was an innocent gesture.  But they LOVED it!  They went crazy about how fun it was.  So, on Christmas Eve morning, I made it a little better, and came up with this.

You should be setting the table, instead of setting the expectation too high.

Again.  Jazzed.  They thought it was awesome.  I could see then, I would have to restrict it to holidays only.  On Valentines Day I made pancakes with heart sprinkles and strawberries pared into the shape of hearts.  As I was cutting a strawberry, I paused and said to myself, “You KNOW this is a slippery slope.  You have to get out, and you have to get out now.”  I did…after I served the heart-strawberries of course.  That’s a lot of work to throw away!

A few weeks went by.  The kids’ excited, expectant eyes, anticipating the day’s breakfast creations, quickly turned back into their normal bored, do-we-have-to? eyes.

Then this happened.

I swear on all that is good, no yolk manipulation took place between the shell cracking and picture snapping.

Upon seeing this picture, my sister, Jenny, asked, “Is that Jesus?”  I mean, Jesus showed up in my eggs!  And look at that melancholy expression!!  I couldn’t quit now!  So, over the next few weeks I went at it with a new found fury.

I submit to you, the first item of my overwhelming breakfast geekery, Exhibit A.

Not my finest work, but I made up for the lack of the girl’s panache by giving her a mysterious red-eyed egg pet.

This was met with a mediocre response.  My divine message paired with this lacklustre response prompted Exhibit B.

Unconscious urge to tell your kids this is “driving” you nuts, much?

That is toasted ciabatta for crying out loud!  I should at least get a pat on the back for quality of ingredients.  Anyway, this one impressed the kids, but like anyone else in the world, they could be getting sick of eating toast, eggs and strawberries (not effing likely in this house but anyway) that inspired a new choice of ingredients.

I present, Exhibit C.

Can I interest you in s’more breakfast?

Big mistake.  Big, BIG mistake.  They are still asking me if they can have peanut-butter-toast-s’mores for breakfast and I don’t think they’ll ever stop.  I had to placate them, and quick.  I needed to come back with something impressive, but that at least looked healthy.  And considering the VAST palate of my children, one in particular RUBY!, I decided to choose…

…toast, eggs and strawberries.  Hey!  Don’t judge!  I don’t think you get who I’m working with here.  To say she has a delicate palate is giving her a lot of room.  Anyway, I did something bad.

Exhibit D.

Idiot.

I went 3-D.  I did.  I bumped it into a new dimension and only the sun can save me now.

Summer.  Find us.  Find us before I start recreating the seven wonders of the world with boiled eggs and toast.  Hey, wait…I could use the eggs for the dome in the Taj Mahal…

Stop.  Just stop.

Thanks for checking in!

Lora

The Banks’ residence has been it’s usual hubbub of activity.  So hubbuby in fact, that I have a very exciting announcement to make.  You see, something happened in this house, for the first time in more than two years (which coincidentally, is the approximate age of my youngest).  For the first time, in over seven hundred and thirty days, I saw the very bottom of my laundry pile, and had every piece of clothing (minus the ones on bodies) cleaned, folded and tucked into newly purged drawers.

Do you know how many pieces of clothing belong to a 5-year-old, a 3-year-old and a 2-year-old?!?!  A freaking lot…that’s how many.  And they’re all so TINY!  It’s like folding 15 loads of doll clothes.  And in a household where regular activities include finger painting, face painting and baking…it’s no wonder my kids are dressed like this from time to time.

Yeah, if you’re looking for me I’ll be over in Proudofmyselfsville.

So anyway…among the many things that have happened, the thing I am about to try to capture took place as well.  And as soon as it did, I thought, I gots to go put that there on that old blog I gots there.

So here it is…

The other night I was rocking Ben to sleep.  He’s had a rough time falling asleep lately with his two-year molars making their way to the surface.  I was looking at his sweet little sleeping face, literally praying for the patience I would need for the night ahead.  Suddenly, I felt like a veil was pulled back, and I was seeing for the first time, a new layer of what makes being a parent so awesome.

Now before you go running to grab a pen, I am sure that almost every parent has had this little light bulb come on, but I really wanted to try to capture it so that I could tell my kids one day.

I thought of myself about ten years ago.  I had a boss that I hated, who was obviously just a miserable woman disguised as a horrible person.  Our relationship was remarkably similar to that of a parent and child, with myself in the parent roll and her in the thankless, take-take-take, need to be constantly reminded of manors roll.  I won’t go into too many details as I’m pretty sure we’ve all worked for some form of this woman at some point in our lives.  Anyway, ten years ago it would NEVER have occurred to me to pray for the patience to treat her with kindness or whatever.  To pray to better myself, so that I could accept her more lovingly?  Yeah right.  I would have, if I prayed at all, prayed that she wouldn’t yell at me that day, or just drop off the face of the earth or something.  She was pretty terrible.  Anyway, in that moment, I thought of how much my heart’s capacity has expanded since becoming a parent.

Obviously, the parent/child relationship is unique for many reasons, but the point that was revealed to me that night is this.  It is not news that NO ONE you encounter elsewhere in life, will ever push, taunt or test like your own child.  They have a pretty short to-do list, where boundary expansion holds top billing.  But, through this constant force to the perimeter of your limits, and only through it, you learn to distend yourself beyond what you ever thought you were capable of.  Because of the absolute adoration we have for these little torturous beings, we do it without even noticing.  The soaring skylines of your endless love are matched by a patience you have never had the opportunity to cultivate or practice prior to their constant testing.  Your selfless concern for your child is as vast as the ocean of sleeplessness you had to swim across to get to where you are now.  Your entirely new view of the (terrifying) world and your earnest wish and hope that it can be better, is as driven as your wishes and hopes that your child will grow into a happy, conscious, thoughtful adult that can be a driving force in the change the world so desperately needs.  It is in that forced state of self-discovery coupled with unconditional love, and only there, that we reveal a truly selfless person who is as perfect as you are capable of being.

Yeah, yeah, we all grow.  We also all yell from time to time and lose our patience continually.  But there is a constant push to be more, to be better, that you don’t feel with such magnitude at any other time in your life, as you do in the relationship with your child.

Now, here’s the awesome part.

Even while we often feel like we are failing miserably, we know that our intentions are truly of the highest form a human can aspire to have; constantly searching the depths of our souls to know just how much more we can give.  And it is in this state, knowing that though we may not be perfect, we are at our best, in the optimal human condition, that we get to in turn, give it all back to the people who inspired that very growth and awareness.

What a joy!  To be able to give yourself, the most patient, kind, loving, selfless version of yourself (exceptions allowed!) entirely to your child.  You can not give a greater gift and to have such an exquisite recipient of all your hard work…well, it’s pretty cool.

I’ve had this analogy hanging around in my head for the past little while and it goes something like this.  It’s like, I’m a pottery jug, and I’ve spent my life painting my exterior with these dull, clay paints, trying desperately to fix myself up.  But no matter how detailed or beautifully I paint myself, I could not ever reach my true potential, until I spent a long time in the kiln.  The kiln’s fire, in this case, is the pain and suffering of truly trying to rise to the occasion of being worthy of raising these amazing little people.  And the water this painstakingly crafted jug will hold is my children, who I will house, hold and care for in the one place perfectly crafted for them, until I pour them out to save the world.  And they will.  You’re welcome.

Who’s kidding who, I could use a little more time in the kiln, but you get the point.

Parent, children and the love cycle.  The perfect eco-system.

I just thought that was neat.  And, that this picture is pretty awesome.

This is how you do teething in style.

I hope my point didn’t get buried in all of those words.  I have a bad habit of beating the point to death.

Take care,

Lora

Just a quick little disclaimer for my non-parent readers:  I am sure that this analogy, of being at your best, then being afforded the ability to give your best back to your inspiration, could easily be replaced by following your calling in any manor.  Whether it is to become the leader of the free world, or make really great coffee.  It just so happens that my calling was to motherhood, but I totally, 100% believe, that this level of joy can be reached by discovering your calling, then doing whatever you have to do to rise to the occasion of enjoying it.  I do not believe that children are the sole means to happiness, but they are in my life, and I just write what I know.  Good luck and peace to you.

Oh, you’re thinking, THAT Lora.  And now you’re thinking, THAT Lora who can’t seem to GET OVER HERSELF.  Announcing her big comeback?  Woo.  Hoo.  Let life begin anew.  Anyway…

I guess before I start back in on this whole blogging thing, I should provide some sort of explanation.  Well, here it is.  I went nuts.  Crazy.  Insanseville.  I don’t like to throw around words like “nervous” or  “breakdown,” so instead I will lay them lightly at your feet and pray that you tread lightly.

Anyway, as luck would have it, going nuts was exactly what I needed.

You see, I don’t know if you remember, but I had a bake stand at our local Farmer’s Market, was writing a blog and was trying to raise three young children.  Turns out, those three things don’t really go together.

I’ll give you the Coles Notes version.  My first sign should have been that I developed a stress induced rosacea rash that covered my entire face.  But that wasn’t obvious enough.  Then of course the clumps of hair I was finding post shower were just some weird, random occurrences.  Still no blip on the crazyometer.  The fact that I did not sleep, sit down or stop at all, was also just a little too subtle for me.  No, I needed a full blown hammer to the skull and guess what?  I got it.

The hammer came in the form of a sweet, little, long-haired, crown-wearing, 4-year-old girl.

My daughter, Ruby, started to have a bit of a nervous breakdown along side me.  One day she was her normal, happy, witty, little self, and the next day she was a shell that looked like Ruby, but contained only questions about how germs were going to get into her.  It CONSUMED her.  She totally disappeared.  I can still remember the fear in her eyes.  It was excruciating.  I know that I have a tendency to exaggerate sometimes (“sometimes” itself, being an exaggeration), but I am not exaggerating at all, when I tell you that for days, she only used her voice to ask questions about germs.  The kid who talks and talks and talks about every little thing, didn’t want to talk about anything other than her immune system.  It was terrifying.

Of course, in my mind I immediately cut to 10, 20 then 30 years down the road.  She’d never be able to communicate, she’d be dependent on me forever, she’d never fall in love, she’d never go to college, she’d never have children…etc.  I spent about two days in that panic.  I called the doctor, the psychologist and anyone I could think of that could direct me in any way.

In my panic, I began scouring the internet reading about psychological disorders in children (which, I will add, does not do much for the old anxiety levels).  Much of the research I found reported that most psychological problems in children come from a lack of connection to their parents.  When they are floating around without anyone to connect to, they are afraid, but cannot pinpoint why, so they find alternate ways to express their fears.  In Ruby’s case, this was by asking incessant questions about germs.

Of course when I read this I thought, but I AM connected, so that doesn’t apply to me.  But once I started to think about it, it was clear as day.  I was lost myself.  I was so busy doing EVERYTHING I could possibly think of to stay at home with my kids (including trying to justify to the WORLD why I SHOULD be at home by trying to overcompensate big time) that I thought, surely my children know that this is all for them.

But they didn’t.

They didn’t know, and they didn’t care.  Because at the end of the day, all kids want is a parent or someone who knows what the heck is going on, to love them, guide them and keep them safe.  They need to know that in a world where they cannot feed, comfort or provide basic necessities for themselves, they get top billing on someone’s list of priorities who can provide those things.  In my state of frenzy, despite my best (misguided) efforts, I was not giving my children the impression that I was able provide those things for them.  I was so stressed out I could barely see straight.  With me “gone” so to speak, and Chris at work almost all of the time trying to keep us afloat, no wonder the kid(s) felt lost.

With this realization, I put down my blog.  I put down the bake stand, and with it, the idea that I had to make money; the little we were working with would just have to be enough.  I also put down my friends, family, chores, phone, internet (even Facebook!) and focused solely on mom-ing her back to health.  When someone called, I didn’t answer.  Unless it was my mom calling to check in, I just gave her the short form then excused myself to mom again.  (She could be trusted to spread the news of progress amongst those who were waiting to hear).  I spent my whole day and my whole night smothering Ruby in attention, love, patience and security.  And in just over a week, she was fine.  Then I moved on to smothering Emma and Ben, and you know what?  There’s a reason you can’t spell smother without the word “mother.”  It’s awesome and more importantly it’s instinctual.

In this society, we are told right from the start to distance ourselves from our kids.  Get them to sleep on their own.  Don’t pick them up when they’re crying.  Push them away from you and in to time-out to teach them a lesson.  Let them go to daycare to “socialize.”  All of these things are normal in our society, but every one of them gives me a sick feeling in my stomach.

I know that being a mom involves a lot of crying…and when it’s as a result of trying to shed your frustration in the only way possible, I believe that it’s healthy and normal.  But when I think of the mom’s crying real heart-broken tears with their kids as their little ones, some only 3-years-old, march off to full-day junior kindergarten…or crying alongside their babies screaming in their cribs, in the name of establishing a sleep schedule…or crying trying to wean their babies at the appropriate time, it just seems wrong.  All of these scenes where mother and child are crying together make me wonder, why the hell are we fighting our instincts so hard?

Well, the truth is, in this society, we moms have got a lot of other stuff going on, and it’s easier to “get used to” these things that make us uncomfortable, if it’s going to make it easier for us to get on with the other parts of our lives.  Due to financial pressures or societal pressures or husband pressures or whatever pressures…there’s a LOT of pressure.  The word “contribute” gets thrown around an awful lot, and since raising the next generation isn’t enough of a contribution, we are forced to hand our children over to other people to raise while we provide the necessities, which I believe are debatable depending on who you speak to.  The point is, it takes some major cojones to look society in the face and say, “I can’t afford to do it, but I am going to be a stay-at-home mom, and just that.”

It is TERRIFYING to think of sending these little, defenseless people, whom we love most in the world into the brutality that is the school system, without the best backpack, clothes or whatever edge they can get over the other kids so they won’t fall to the bottom of the scholastic food chain.  But I think that while we’re clamoring to pull all of this together for them, we miss the opportunity to look them in the eye and say, “You are enough.  You are amazing.  And you are worth all of my time while we have it…even if we never get to go on vacation, eat at a fancy restaurant, or I am wearing the same underwear I bought on my wedding day.”  That last part may or may not apply to myself.  But really, I think, more than anything, we are missing the opportunity to send them out of the home and into the world with the most powerful tool they could have – a safe warm home base, that they can always return to no matter what the mean girl at school said.  A place where they are the star of the show, where their boundaries are established and clear, where there is no winning or losing and the love is truly unconditional. A place where their only job is to grow and flourish as themselves.  We’re missing the opportunity to send them off with real, soul hugging, confidence.

In the past few months I have grown more than the sum total of the rest of my life.  I’ve become a better version of the person who started this blog.  I read through it recently, and I hate how the last third or so of it sounds…it’s so bitter and hurried and blind.  And THAT is who was raising my children.  Not okay.

…Insert deep breath…

So.  In a nutshell, I’ll be blogging again, but this time I’ve actually got something to say.  And I won’t be killing myself trying to make sure I get a post up every day.  If I can promise you that I will continue lean heavily on cheap tricks like sarcasm and low blows, will you continue to walk with me on this crazy, exhausting, joyful, excruciating journey we call parenting?  Even if my next post takes me another 4 months to write?  Only time will tell I s’pose.

I am ecstatic to report that Ruby is totally back to her old self.  And so am I.  We’re doing better than ever…with me being the parent, and her being nothing but a kid.  In fact, a few weeks back this conversation took place:

ME: Why is there always a huge mess wherever you kids have been?
RUBY: ‘Cuz that’s what kids do. We’re just doing kid stuff.

And that, my dear Ruby, is precisely what you should be doing.

Also, I have to thank you for the emails and notes of concern.  I really appreciate them, and in a time when I was floating around like a balloon, you guys held my string.  And of course, to my husband, family and friends who helped me through this, and never let a lesson pass me by because it would have made the conversation easier…thank you the most.

xo’s

Lora

I feel like I need to get something off my chest I hated doing the bake stand, but I just can’t think of what it was.

…and I ain’t talkin’ ’bout no peanut butter cookies.

Oh, now I remember.  I HATED DOING THE BAKE STAND!  I’d do my day with the kids (I have three kids under four – it’s not exactly a walk in the park – unless we go for a walk in the park that day, then I suppose it is exactly a walk in the park, but you get what I’m driving at here), then I spent EVERY NIGHT alternating between baking and BEGGING for sleep.  Then at the end of all that, I got to stand there, at the market, and watch all of my hard work melt in the sweltering heat, sweating like a fiend.  Then the icing on the cake (pun intended) was that I ended up making a cool $30 profit every week.  I know, it sounds spectacular, but it wasn’t.

I actually ended up going to a therapy session because of the stress of it all (combined with the financial horror that is my bank account), where my therapist said, “But you can bake in the day time can’t you?”  And I was frankly, just too stunned to answer.  I finally said, “A greater woman than myself could probably do it, but I’d end up putting a kid in the oven or making some other horrifying mistake.”  I started going into this huge defensive rant, then realized, this woman has no idea what the f*@k goes on in my house so maybe I should I rethink this whole asking her to therapize my BRAIN thing?!?!?!

Anyway…I have another appointment in 2 weeks.

Back to the bars.  Hey, that sounds like a movie or something.

Back to the Bars – The Lora Banks Story.  A chilling tale of a mother gone mad, searching for meaning in life in the bottom of every whiskey sour she can find in this 3 bar town.

Okay for real, back to the bars.

Yeah…it’s okay if you drool.  Because they are FANTASTIC.  I have made these four times now, and every time they are amazing.  I got the base recipe from my sister, Christa, who is the food whisperer.  Everything she makes is the best thing ever.

The crumble part of these bars is easy, foolproof and sooooo delicious.  It’s chewy AND crunchy AND sweet AND salty.  It’s sooo good.

The filling in the bars pictured here, came from a combination of these sweet little gifts of summer.

Mangoes, peaches, strawberries and cranberries.  Yeah, yeah ya meteorologist. I know that cranberries aren’t a traditional summer fruit but like your stinging criticism, I thought all of this sweetness could use a burst of sour here and there.  Forgive me.

I sold these at the bake stand and everyone that bought one talked about them later, or came back the next week to buy some more.  They’re pretty dang good, in case you couldn’t tell already.

So…before I say too much (too late):

To make your own Fruity Crumble Bars of Amazingness you’ll need:

For the crust/crumble part:

• 3 cups of quick oats
• 3 cups of flour
• 2 cups of brown sugar, lightly packed
• 1.5 cups of butter
• 2 tsp baking soda
• 1 tsp salt
• 1 serving of ELBOW GREASE

For the fruity filling:

• 5 – 6 cups of fruit (I used 2 mangoes, 1 peach, about 15 strawberries and just under a cup of frozen unsweetened cranberries)
• 1/2 cup white sugar
• 1/4 cup of flour
• 1/2 serving of ELBOW GREASE (I am an idiot, but I’m not erasing that)

Directions:

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Line a 9X13″ pan with parchment paper, and leave enough sticking up over the sides of the pan so that you can grab them and lift the bars out later.  Like this:
   

   Photo Cred: Apartment Therapy

2. In a LARGE bowl, place all of the ingredients for the crust/crumble.  Remove your rings, watch and bracelet.  Place them in an envelope and mail them to me. I’m kidding.  Roll up your sleeves and you mix those ingredients together with your bare hands.  It should end up looking like this when you’re done:

   

   Note to self: Next time don’t use the “unappetizing” setting on the camera. Trust me, it’s good.

3. Press 2/3 of the mixture into the bottom of the pan.  Like really hard.  Smooth it out with the back of a spoon. Then set it aside.
4. Place the ingredients for your filling into a pot.  Stir it together then cook it over medium high heat until it reaches the thickness you’d like to see in your bars.  Not too runny.  If it’s too runny, add more flour.  If it’s too thick, add some water.  It’s very forgiving.  You can also skip this step entirely and put in a pie filling.  I used cherry pie filling once and it was delish.
5. Spread the filling over the crust you’ve created in the bottom of the pan.
6. Sprinkle the remaining crumb mixture over the top.
7. Place it in the preheated oven for 40 minutes, or until it’s nice and uniformly brown on top.
8. Remove from the oven and place it on a cooling rack to cool COMPLETELY!
9. Then, I usually put them in the fridge for about an hour, just to be safe.  But if you’re feeling daring (or want an excuse to eat the broken bars) then grab the parchment paper and pull them out in one big piece.
10. Cut into bars, the bigger the better, and eat’em up.  They also freeze really, really well.
11. Enjoy!

Well, I think I just remembered the second reason I stopped putting up recipes.  I could be the most annoying person in the world to take directions from!  Just ask my husband…ba dum dum chihhh.  Oh my.

Thanks for sticking this one out,

Lora

RUBY:  Grandma?  This time can you make roast beef and Madagascar?

ME:  Do you mean mashed potatoes?

RUBY:  <Smirks>

Her inner smart-ass is so smart it even tricks her sometimes.  At least she still gets a kick out of it.

Lora

It was MEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Okay, back to the contest.

The winner of the F-Words Monster Stuffie Giveaway is…

…ready?…

Congratulations my friend!  I’ll send you an email later today to collect your details.

I should also mention that the scales were tipped in her favour.  Through the power of her hilarious blog, she referred 5 people to come follow F-Words, so she had 6 entries in the contest.   Thanks lady!  Other honourable mentions in the F-Words promoting were, Sara Benjamin, Cathy Farley and Danielle Blagdon who sent some new people my way too.  Thanks so much gals.

Also, due to the unexpected interest in the dolls, I may start selling them.  Let me know if you’re into that.

Thanks everyone for all the support!  You’re awesome!

Lora

I went back last week.  Now, he thinks maybe it’s rosacea.  So he wrote me a prescription for that.  This time it was $90.  Unless he can write me a complimentary prescription to clear up my nagging case of broke-ass, I’m not paying it, so I’m going to try to treat it on my own with Dr. Mom’s home remedies.

Then I decided to quit having my bake stand at the Farmer’s Market.  I am not a quitter, but the stress of everything on top of everything else was too much, and the market stand was kind of pushing me into Crazyville.  The day I decided to quit, my rash got 50% better.

Anyway, I still have this lingering rash in patches here and there, that I thought were relatively unnoticeable.  Probably because it looks so much better.  Tonight, however, Little Miss Observant McMicroscopicEyeBalls, a.k.a. Ruby Banks, noticed it was still there.  Here is how she decided to comfort her poor, red, bumpy mother:

RUBY:  Mom, are you going to go back to the doctor so he can get rid of that rash?

ME:  No, I’m going to try to get rid of it on my own.

RUBY:  Well, I think it might be time for you to buy a new face.

ME:  Excuse me?!?!

RUBY:  (With the smirkiest little smirk that you ever did see) Well, don’t worry.  You can just get a new face but put your old hair back on.

ME:  Thanks.

I am HILARIOUS!

On the bright side, I think she did unveil another source of stress that could be contributing to my face rash.  I’m not pointing fingers but her name starts with “R” and ends with “uby.”

IrRASHionally yours,

Lora

So if you want to get your name in you can:

1. Tell me you want your name in the ballot box (if you haven’t already)
2. Refer some friends, and have them tell me it was you who sent them.

For details check out the original post here.

Win our brother or sister and take him/her home with you. We’ll get over it…with years of therapy. Good luck.

Good luck everyone!

Lora

Thump, thump, thump (down the stairs), walks right to me, and without a hello or anything…

RUBY:   If you’re a grown up or a kid and you want to change yourself, you can but you always have to be yourself.

Walks directly to the couch and sits down.

And a second later…

Thump, thump, thump (down the stairs), walks right to me, and without a hello or anything…

EMMA:  Mom?  Was I sleeping on a polar bear?

Walks directly to the couch and sits down.

Same movie, different language.  You gots to love those kiddles.

Peace out,

Lora