Fresh Memories Etched in My Mind - A You Capture Edition

Main Entry: fresh

Pronunciation: \ˈfresh\
Function: adjective

(1) : experienced, made, or received newly or anew

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I grew up in the late 70's - early 80's in an expansive backyard that was the result of being the middle house of a three-home cul-de-sac in West Phoenix. When my mom was looking for homes to buy so she and my dad could re-locate our family of six to Phoenix from Chicago, the yard is what convinced her to buy this house on Yucca St.

I was almost 9-years-old and had just started the 4th grade when we moved. I remember when we drove up to Yucca St. in our green Pontiac station wagon. Us kids ran around that house and through that yard like we had just stumbled into paradise. Oh the space. Our wild spirits unleashed.

My memories of that yard are deeply woven into my soul. Everything that could happen in a large desert backyard with four siblings running loose happened. Chasing lizards, playing softball, kicking soccer balls, swimming, splashing, sliding, fighting, swinging, hiding, celebrating birthdays, graduations and softball's season end, eating ice-cream and popsicles, yelling, whispering, crying, laughing, tanning, learning, growing, living.

Each August when we visit and the warm monsoon winds blow, the memories flood my being. And I think - I always want this yard to be a part of my life.

Since becoming a mother, I have often wondered what it's been like for my parents to see that yard gradually quiet down. The toys put away, the pool water still, the curving 1970's plastic slide into the pool dry. My parents use that yard, sure. It is a part of who they are. They bought one of those porch bench swings that sits under a tree in the far corner of our yard. My mom and dad are soul mates for certain and sitting side-by-side watching the summer lightning crackle against a dark desert sky is a favorite pastime.

Since becoming grandparents, my mom and dad have seen their yard come to life again. If only for a couple of weeks each year. We make the trek to the desert every spring and late summer and just like me and my siblings, my kids are in love with the yard.

When I pulled our mini-van into that familiar cul-de-sac last week for Spring Break, my kids were literally bursting with excitement. The tired crankiness was instantly replaced with renewed energy and laughter.

And before long....

...the yard was alive again.

Fresh memories being made.

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Claire on a journey to find the perfect place to plant her magical seeds.

Tommy sweeping the pool deck

My girls and Patrick and Nora (their "cousins")
Two kids of my oldest friend Kath.
Kath and I grew up together in this yard.
And now our kids get to create some memories of their own.

I'm not sure anything makes my dad happier than to see
his first granddaughter swing a bat.
My dad was my softball coach for years.
I threw countless pitches in this yard with my dad as my catcher.

Phoebe and Tommy in the mud puddle they created.
My younger brother, Bill, used to make mud puddles here too.

Grandpa and Phoebe.

My mom watching her yard bouncing with life.


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Click on over to Beth's Place for more You Capture posts.

All photos were taken with my iPhone using the Hipstamatic application
that I downloaded on the drive out to Arizona and am now obsessed with.
I love how the images portray that nostalgic 1970's vibe.

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"Conversations with my Kid" is back tomorrow after its own Spring Break.
Come link up and play along!

You are what you eat - or not.

We are so worried these days what we feed our kids right?  All the crap that is in everything, it's filled with preservatives and junk, it's all processed and injected with hormones, or it's ladened with sugar or some sweet substitute that causes cancer and rots teeth, and then to top it all off all, last week my dear farmer friend informed me that corn syrup is the practically the greatest evil our kids will face in their young lives. Okay maybe, just maybe, I am exaggerating with that one. She didn't really say it like that.

But you get the point.

I have all kinds of food preparation insecurities.  I'm lazy in the kitchen, albeit well-intentioned.  PB & J sandwiches are too often seen on the dinner table and sometimes even for me and my dude. Shocking I know. And horrifying.  

On the flip side, I desire to improve in the kitchen. I dream of a fabulous dinner party where I can thrill my guests with some sort of delish dish.  And I do have my "healthy" side - a beautiful specimen of organic zucchini that we can drop onto the grill really gets me all fired up.  I crunch into that baby all healthy and yummy and I feel damn good about myself.

But on this Friday morning, I'm thinking WTF? What's the big friggin' deal about food? What's the worst thing that can happen if my kids consume barrels of corn syrup by the time they hit the age of 10?

Case in point:

My mother prepared breakfast for us every single morning of our young lives. Pancakes and waffles made from scratch, eggs, bacon, breakfast sandwiches, oatmeal, homemade hash browns and the like.  

BUT....

...there were also breakfast items that could be considered well, less than healthy.

For example, she would take one of those tubes of Pillsbury dough that you would normally bake into rolls and she would create these little fried donuts.  Puncture a hole in the middle of the dough, plop those babies in the oil, hear them sizzle to a crispy golden tan, and dip 'em in cinnamon/sugar combo, powdered sugar, or just plain ol' sugar.  Yuuummmm.....

And then there was the most famous of unhealthy choices in our home....sugar bread.  You know what sugar bread consisted of?  A slice of French bread and white sugar.  

That's right.  We would slice off a piece of soft white French bread, take a heaping spoonful of crystal white sugar, layer the bread with that sugar, and crunch right in. Aaahhhhhh......I can still feel the sugary tingle on my teeth as the sweetness coated my pearly whites.

When my mom would rattle off our breakfast options and "sugar bread" was on the list, you can bet we jumped at the chance to head off to school with some sugar bread in our bellies.

And you know what?  I think I turned out okay.  No cavities. Good student. Athlete. Got my college degree.  Went on to make a living, got married and am currently raising a family. 

So what's the point of this ramble?

I'm not sure except it all makes me feel just a little bit better about how lame I am in the kitchen.

Sugar bread anyone?