Today is a bright and sunny day. It is a little chilly, we have had a little cold snap, but it will do. I can't take dark and dank! I really believe that the weather affects the mood, no lie. I get weepy and sad when we have a few days of dreary weather. I feel immensly better when the sun is out. I am cranky in the heat, and quiet in the snow. I love the fall with its crisp days, the earthy smell from the fallen leaves.

I seriously don't know where this post is going, but I am trying to make something of it. I had a moment with my younger son, Daniel. We were riding along in the car and for some reason, I told him that I used to write poetry. He looked amazed, especially when I told him that I loved to write. He actually seemed interested when I told him that my favorite professor was a guy that took interest in my writing skills and abilities. The first person who believed that I had it in me, that I was actually a writer. It makes all of the difference in the world when someone recognizes the fact that you really are good at something you love to do. I didn't have that at home, so at that community college that I attended, I relished the fact that I could find a quiet place and write for 30 minutes, in between classes or before classs or even before work. I just needed that, and really never knew it. Heck, some of my best work was done sitting on a ledge outside of the Islip Arts Building, in sometimes unbearable weather. I was young, what the heck did I care? My son was amazed tha tI actually wrote a one act play, a short story and several pieces, all containing the same characters, at different points in their lives. He really couldn't believe that I, the hander of the rules, the teller of bedtimes, was a person who possessed real creativity.

I think that it is hard for kids to see their parents differently, and to see them as young people. It is hard to imagine that we went through the same types of things, only on differentr levels. It really takes a lot for them to wrap their heads around that type of thinking. I try to let my kids see that there are many layers of me to see, that there are many facets to me being where I am today. I hope that htey do, and that they don't just blow off what I try to tell them. I want them to know where and how I came to be. I don't want a mystery and to have them begging for answers as I get older.
I have an example of that is I bought two books for both of the grandmas to fill out. My mother, the purveyer of secrets, never filled it out. My mother in law, whom I adore, filled it out with joy and extra care. She included funny stories and pictures to fill out the book. It is a wonderful treasure that my children can have as a part of their family history. I just wanted my kids to know about their history, and my mother, couldn't do that for me. Now, it is too late, she is blind, and can't fill out the book. It was supposed to be done in the grandma's handwriting, to preserve that too. She just wants everything to be a big secret, I mean it really doesn't matter if the kids know where she met my father does it? Will it breach national security? That is how she treats her historical information, like we could all get arrested for knowing what her favorite color is. That is why I tell the kids stories about my past and my loves and my young dreams. I don't want them to feel left out and resent the fact that they don't know things about me. I want them to know all that they can, within reason. I mean, there are some private things that they don't need to know, but the really great stuff, I am very open about.
There, I can now step off of my soap box. Maybe it isn't a soap box, maybe it is just a sounding board, one that I can rant and rave to, without hollering at my mother for not letting us in.

I guess that is enough for now about that.

Easter went off without a hitch, cooking went easy, as I prepped everything ahead of oven and cooking time. I even baked a poppyseed cake, similar to the one that my mother used to make when I was a child, but cheated with the recipie. Daniel loved it, had three pieces. My mother raved over it. My mother in law brought chocolate filled creme puffs and a raisin spice cake to die for! We finished off the last of the creme puffs last night, and I am sad that there are no more!

A great cookbook that I strongly recommend, was a gift from my mother in law: The Cake Mix Doctor by Anne Byrn published by Workman publishing . That is where I got the recipie for the Poppy seed cake. Now that I have tried that one, there are a whole host of others that I am going to try.