The peony and living with my parents – there really is a connection….

The peony is my favorite flower of all time.  Lucky for me, they are very popular in cooler climates and grow easily in Colorado.  I was happy to live in a place where I could try my hand at caring for them; I planted a peony bush the first spring we lived here. 

The next June, there were 7 of the delicate pink, buds that bloomed into stunning, deliciously fragrant flowers.  I could not have been happier with my novice attempt at gardening.

There must be something genetic in my family about this flower, because it is also my mom’s favorite and, upon catching a scent of the peony, my daughter said it smelled like, “heaven.”

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With the success of the first peony, my mom and dad bought another and planted it in another spot in the back yard.  That was fine with me, the more peonies, the better.  I could have an entire backyard full of them and be quite happy. 

When the second one bloomed, my daughter declared it was “Honey’s peony.”  (All 8 of my mom’s grandkids call her “Honey.”)  My mom laughed and said something like, “well, I think it would be better if we all cared for them – that way we can all enjoy them!” 

And I think that is a pretty decent analogy for the reason I live in a multigenerational household – turns out, it’s good for all of us.

Living with my parents and “tasting” my childhood all over again

A scent can transform a moment, take you back in time, sometimes to days ago, sometimes to decades long gone.  I am reminded 2 to 3 times a week of my childhood.  I come home and often detect the scents of my childhood in my kitchen…

Hot dogs wrapped in buttery, warm, rolls. Creamy mac and cheese. Sandwiches made of toast that turns peanut butter warm and gooey and sweetened with strawberry jelly.  Chocolate cookie wafers soaked in whipped cream, layered with jam and walnuts.  Made from scratch chocolate brownies with homemade vanilla frosting.  Lemon bundt cake with a sweet/sour glaze that made my lips pucker.  Sloppy Joes open-faced on hamburger buns.  Warm rice casserole with broccoli florets and cheddar cheese.  “Minute” steaks with ketchup.

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Taste familiar?

These are some of the flavors of my childhood – and since I was raised in the 70s (holy c**p, am I that old?) I am sure there are plenty of people out there who recall the same tastes.

Because my parents live with my husband and me and help with our kids, my mom makes dinner for my son and daughter, ages 5 and 7, a couple of nights a week.  I can usually tell what the kids have had for dinner as soon as I walk in the door; it is a walk down memory lane each time mom cooks.  I still love those “pigs in a blanket.”  The roll has to be crunchy and the hot dog warm throughout as I dip them in a bit of ketchup.  YUM!

Lest you think I have not evolved at all, today’s rolls are whole grain, the mac ‘n cheese organic and the hotdogs and Sloppy Joes turkey.   But the flavor is the same.  The flavor and the scent are what take me back to Tucson Arizona, where I grew up, and where, from the age of 3-18, I lived with my two brothers, mom and dad.  I can still see that lemon yellow countertop and the avocado green stove.  (I also recall being pelted in the head with my favorite “pig in a blanket” when I got into a fight with one of my brothers, but all-in-all, the memories are good.)

I get a kick out of the fact that my kids will have some of the same (but slightly more nutritional) food memories from their childhood as I do.  There is also something comforting in knowing that the same food from my childhood is still good, even four decades later.  (Holy c**p, I am that old.)

What food takes you back to your childhood?  What scent, color, or fabric takes you back to when linoleum and burnt orange were king?

Sex camp has come and gone…back to reality

by Kanesha

I had breakfast with a good friend in early June and I said,

“Guess what? Hubby and I get six and half days alone because my mother-in-law is taking the kids with her on vacation!”

My friend’s response,

“Oh my God! You’re going to sex camp!”

Honeymoon. Couple’s retreat. Bonding time. Date night. Sex camp.

You can label it however you want.

The point is, hubby and I got it and boy did we maximize it! Six and a half days for ourselves to do basically whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted, and however we wanted. Woo hoo!

When my mother-in-law mentioned, early in the year, she wanted to take the kids with her on vacation, I thought it was a good idea. When she mentioned the length of time, I was a bit taken aback. I had never been away from the kids for such a long period of time. Any time away from them was three days max.

And then I thought about it some more…hubby goes on work trips that are as short as one day and as long as seven straight weeks. The kids still know and love him when he returns.

So heck, yes, I could ship them off with my mother-in-law. What an awesome multigenerational perk! And as I thought even more about it, my own mother used to ship me off to Mississippi or Michigan for an entire summer.

As far as financial logistics, we paid for our kids’ plane tickets and gave the oldest some spending money – and away they went. My mother-in-law would send picture messages and texts about what the kids were doing. It was a sweet check-in for me, and honestly, I didn’t miss the kids too terribly because I was at “camp”!

Now the “honeymoon” is over and it’s back to regular life with all family members  in full attendance. I do have great flashbacks to the freedom and fun hubby and I had during our six and half day retreat.

Here are our top six items of fun:

Do I even have to say it…

Consuming multiple bottles

Picnic at the pool

Parisian macarons cooking class

Bike rental and peddling around the city

Cooking dinner together

In Margot’s house, with 3 generations living under one roof, Father’s Day is a double-header.

I am an only daughter to my parents and wife to my dear husband.  (Dare I also mention that I am chief organizer, house cleaner, laundress, and cook?  But I digress…this is a post about dads!)  And so, on Father’s Day, I host a double-header.

Sunday will be full of cleaning, making sure the kids have their cards and presents ready for both their father and grandfather, cooking a meal that will appeal to both my dad (a red meat lover) and my husband (not a red meat lover) and balancing my role as daughter, mother and wife.  (Wait a minute – that sounds like almost every Sunday in our house!)

I am certain that my father will watch the final day of the U.S. Open golf tournament.  I know this because the last day of the Open has often fallen on Father’s Day, and as a child, I can recall waiting for my dad at the dinner table — for HIS father’s day dinner — until the last player finished putting on the 18th green and the stirring trophy presentation.  All the while, CBS golf commentators describe, with hushed voice and insipid music in the background, the special relationship between the champion and his dad while trying to create an emotional moment.  Tissue, please.

I am equally certain that my husband will sleep as late as he possibly can while I make the kids their favorite breakfast – pumpkin pancakes, bacon, fresh fruit, milk and juice.  When he begins to wake up, we will have a family snuggle and then I will take the kids to the pool or the park, and COSTCO no doubt.  Hubby will work, maybe get in a run, and possibly pitch in with some domestic chores.  (Wait a minute that is also live EVERY other Sunday.)  The only possible variation here is that the kids might want to go out for brunch – I give that a 25% chance.

In the evening, we will have a sumptuous family dinner, good conversation and afterwards, the kids will “perform” a magic trick or sing a song for post-dinner entertainment.  (Again – like so many other Sundays….)

Hmmmm…  All of this sounds eerily familiar – and, upon further examination, Father’s Day is remarkably similar to every other Sunday in my house – minus the gifts and cards.

No wonder I am so flippin’  tired on Mondays!

Countdown to Father’s Day – and we’ve got NOTHING!

by Kanesha

Father’s Day is around the corner and we’ve totally forgotten about it.

I guess we are plagued by the out of site, out of mind syndrome.

Hubby is on travel and the kids will be out of town when he returns on Father’s Day eve…so do we really have to celebrate and have a gift ready?

That was a joke! OK…a tiny joke.

When I was talking with my daughter about summer holidays (like when she reminded me we didn’t do anything for Flag Day…really now??) and summer plans, she said, “Isn’t Father’s Day coming up soon?”

I totally played it off. “Yes it is, sweetie, this coming weekend. Any ideas of what we could do for your dad?”

She shrugged her shoulders and I turned on New Moon for inspiration.

Hey! I know Eclipse is  opening on June 30, so at least I’m preparing for THAT!

Ok, back to Father’s Day...

In thinking about how ill-prepared the kids and I are for father’s day this year, I chuckled in thinking about that funny episode from the Cosby Show.

Hmmm…

I keep a “gift idea” journal with clippings, notes, and URLs of potential gifts my family may love. So in looking at it tonight, I realized I’m in pretty good shape in getting things ready by June 20.  Here are some of the top items that the super dad in our lives may get this year…with express shipping:

Fireside Cooking Irons from Plow and Hearth

Fruit of the month club - Harry and David

Cuisinart griddler, grill and panini press - Williams Sonoma

REI Comfort Cot

Giftcard and visit to Daveco

Goodies from Tee and Cakes

And of course a special homemade card for dad!

Father's Day Card - idea from Kaboose

I’m also crossing my fingers that when I get home, my MIL will have led the kids in a father’s day, crafting extravaganza!

What will the special dad(s) in your life receive this year?

Multigenerational Temperature Control – when is 78 degrees not 78 degrees?

It is entirely true that older people feel temperature in a different way.

My parents, who live in the lower level of our home “feel” the change in temperature more than we do on the main level.  My house is a 2,100 square foot ranch with an additional 2,000 square foot lower level – plenty of room for this multigenerational family.  However, on the main level, we have 20 foot ceilings while below is the normal 9 foot.  I am sure you can anticipate the problem?

It is easy to see, then, how air conditioning and heating are diffused on our level and intensified on theirs.  The result: my father predictably skulks up the stairs in both winter and summer to adjust the temperature.  This drives my husband and me into orbit.  And what pushes us over the edge – he claims not to do it!  As if we do not hear the heat or the A/C mysteriously turn on or off seconds after we detect his size 12s on the stairs!

My mother mentioning how cool or warm it is, however, gets my attention fast because she NEVER complains about the temperature in the house.

Last week, Boulder, Colorado had a record-breaking day of heat – 94 degrees.  I know my Arizona friends will think this a mild summer day but for CO, it was hot.  We had not turned on the A/C yet, but in my book, hitting 90 is the go-ahead to close windows and crank down the air.

At 10 pm, as I lounged in my cotton nightie, cool and comfortable, watching a re-run of Frasier (miss that show!) I heard footsteps on the stairs.  Anticipating my dad, I was shocked to see my mom – in her full-length mink, neck to knees – bound up in fur.  (please don’t take offense, this fur has been around for decades…)

She asked in her gentle, unassuming way, if perhaps I had the A/C on too low?

In between my bouts of  hysterical laughter, I checked the temperature and it was accidentally set to 68 – not 78.  After walking downstairs, I agreed with my dad – you could have hung meat down there.  We quickly warmed it up by opening the windows and doors and turning off the air.

My parents have since taken cardboard and duct tape and sealed their vents shut so they only get a trickle of cool air.  And I have agreed to only adjust the temperature in the house with the hall light on.

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Family Reunions = sharing the grandparents

Each July, my small family convenes for a reunion – and I mean small – the total of my side of the family is 24 people.  They are incredibly important to me.  As almost none of us live in the same city, reunions are all the more meaningful.

Recently, this family reunion has taken on a different “feel” for my husband and me.  As you know, I live in a multigenerational house – my parents live with me and my family.  And my two kids, ages 5 and 7  “get”  my parents all the time, for nearly the whole year.  My five nieces and nephews only get my parents on special occasions and at these reunions. 

See where I am going with this?

In each of these reunions, my kids have had to share their Honey and Gampy – not something they like doing at all!  My husband and I are aware to this fact and remind our kids often that they need to let their cousins have more time with my parents.  This goes over like a lead balloon….

Invariably, one of my kids will try to squirm into my mom’s lap when she is holding another grandchild, or curl up by my dad while he is watching a golf tournament with a cousin.  This can create a not so pretty scene – my kids share toys, milk, sidewalk chalk, car seats, etc with very few glitches. 

But when it comes to their Honey and Gampy – they are used to being the only game in town.  Thank goodness my parents are amazing diplomats – they are as Even–Steven as you could imagine with their time and love.

And while these gatherings are loads of fun for everyone else, board games, drinking, lots of pool-time, the constant presence of “remember that time,” where no one is safe from my brothers’ elephant-like recall of the most agonizing childhood details, my husband and I usually work overtime at making sure our kids do not monopolize my parents. 

We have another reunion coming up, and I can only hope that my kids will have more empathy for their cousins and share my parents with them.  I love that my kids are so close to my parents, and in the end, I guess this is what a former boss of mine used to refer to as a “high-grade problem.” 

I’ll know that we have crossed this particular bridge if I do not hear from my son, “but she is MINE!”

No more wooden spoons!

by Kanesha

As a gen-xer born in the 70s, there were certain parenting techniques that were employed. YES, my parents spanked me (sorry mom, but I’m spilling the beans).

No, I’m not bitter about this. I just find it super odd that my mother acts like it never happened and I better not DARE lay a hand on her two grandchildren.

I was sitting around the other evening with my *MIL watching Jeopardy (we watch it EVERY night). At a commercial break I told her that my hubby had considered buying a wooden spoon (a plain ole kitchen one), wrapping it up all nice and pretty, and giving it to her for Mother’s Day, as a joke.

I chuckled, she didn’t.

She turned bright red and said, “Oh, I would have been so embarrassed.”

Whoa! Not the response I had expected.

You see, my mom used a belt to lay down the law and my MIL used a wooden spoon for my hubby and his two siblings.

I quickly told my MIL that she needn’t be embarrassed. The 70s were experimental and wacky. Nobody knew what was going on (disco anyone?). But no, she was clearly upset.

She said she’s glad things have gotten better and that we don’t have to parent like that any longer. Hmm… I had not thought about it in those terms.

I never told my MIL this, but I often thought she viewed my hubby and me as lightweight parents when it came to discipline.  We don’t yell and we don’t spank. We talk it out with the kids, do time-outs, revoke privileges (which in reality only punishes US), and sometimes just throw our hands up and grab a cocktail. (OK – the cocktails are just a quick fix when we’ve lost our minds.)

That brief exchange about the wooden spoon was enlightening.

I didn’t mention the wooden spoon conversation to my husband, but I know I won’t let him gift his mother with a wooden spoon. Some things of the past should stay there.

What’s your stance on spanking? How do you discipline your child (ren)? Do the grandparents offer you any “tips” on disciplining your child(ren)?
(*MIL – mother-in-law)

Yes, my mother-in-law lives with us. No, I’m not kidding!

by Kanesha

“If you want to find your passion, know your life’s purpose, meet your soul mate, or feel intensely alive, don’t look toward the fun things that fit logically into the flow of an easy life. Ask yourself, “What am I running away from?” Whatever that thing is, turn around. Walk toward it. Face it and conquer it, or die trying. “—Martha Beck

This quote from Martha Beck takes me back to 2006-2007 when my husband and I were discussing the reasons why it would be beneficial for his mother to move in with us. Sure it sounded great…our then 8-year-old and our new baby would be able to spend more time with their paternal grandmother – who would no longer live in Minnesota. We wouldn’t have to worry about before and after school care for our daughter, and I wouldn’t need to stress about some stranger(s) caring for my newborn and IF they would (or would not) feed him breast milk. AND I didn’t have to stop working full-time.

I was thinking I may be able to have two kids, a traveling husband, a career, and some work/life balance. BONUS!  (Oh did I mention I was two months into my new job when I found out I was pregnant? Yeah, that’s a different post at a different time!)

This was a great and simple decision, yes? NO!

I kept thinking, “Is this the right thing to do? Am I STUPID? Will it work? OMG, my mother-in-law will see me, ALL THE TIME, in my natural state. Ugh..my feet are swollen and I feel FAT!”

At the time, this potential living arrangement didn’t seem logical, but it seemed super practical. I’d never lived with my mother-in-law. My husband is great and she raised him, sooooo…this couldn’t be all bad, right? I decided in March 2007, when my mother-in-law was in town visiting before the baby was born (May 2007), that I would just try this multigenerational living arrangement and not over-analyze.

For us, embracing the full nest, instead of suffering through the full nest syndrome, made complete sense.

I didn’t run away. I walked toward it and faced it. Our multigenerational living arrangement will be three years old in July 2010. Everyone is still alive and thriving!  Hallelujah!!

Could your in-laws live with you? Why or why not? Tell us the truth!

¡Hola! We’re here!!!

We’re BLOGGING!

After much planning, reading, clicking, researching, and giggling, our blog has moved from conversations in the hallway to being LIVE on the web.

it’s a full nest is a comfy space that offers humorous, raw, informative and honest support about living in a multigenerational household (MGH).

it’s a full nest aims to support families that subscribe to the “new”clear approach in raising a family. We’re coming from the perspective that living with parents/in-laws is a CHOICE rather than a forced situation  and we will be spilling our guts about how it all goes down.

We’d love to hear from you as we have mutligenerational living MOSTLY figured out, but we’re still learning.

Join us!