Which is exactly why I pulled it together to go. Because relaxing at home on the weekends is something that rarely occurs with three kids. And celebrating with friends is even rarer.

It was an awesome 31 hours (yes, I counted). Besides getting the chance to don some x-country skis and tool about with friends, I walked away with following discoveries:

1. No matter how many times you’ve seen an eagle, they are always breathtaking to watch.
2. The iPhone and my facial muscle freezing point is 4 degrees.
3. The thrill of seeing a shooting star is even more exciting with a group. Ooohing and aaahing in unison is a bonus.
4. I still really do not know what I’d do if I happened upon an elk in the middle of the night while wearing snow shoes. Or a cougar. Or a bobcat. But I feel very safe coming upon a huge drainage pipe covered in snow even if it looks like a sleeping black bear.
5. Five women walking around in the middle of the night when it’s 4 degrees out, heavily bundled and wearing snow shoes look too much a lot like a herd of zombie walkers.
6. Mulled wine after cross-country skiing is heavenly.
7. Eleven women can consume a really amazing and significant quantity of tiramisu.
8. Never to forget the value of a close-knit community of parents and strong women.
9. If you can stay up past 1am, it’s pretty easy to make it to 2am. Or 3am.
10. Giggling with girlfriends when you’re supposed to be asleep is not only still fun when you’re no longer 9 years old, it is life affirming.
11.  For the life of me, I just cannot make out Taurus in the constellations, no matter how many times it is pointed out to me.
12. Seeing all those stars outside at night made me realize how important it is to remember how we are all connected in this world and grateful for friends who bring us together.

Thanks so much, Michelle!

But this year, something happened.

While we’re still wrangling gear in a way that feels like running in wet sand, the kids are equally very excited about skiing every time we bring it up. And when we get to the lifts, everyone–including B and me–is having a good time. We’ve found an activity that every one loves. And as simple as that sounds, it brings me total happiness to suddenly realize that I’m having as much fun as they all are. For a short time, there’s no eye rolling, fighting or whining. The kids ski together, partnering down the slopes before heading to the lodge for hot chocolate while we adults get left behind. It’s the beginning of a new independence for all of us and it’s something very big, exciting and a little bit unnerving for all of us, but in that way where you’re about to head down something that’s just a little bit too hard, but you know you can do it.

And then you do.

Things are changing around here…  It may be my annual dose of super optimism, but I’m feeling like 2013 is going to be a good year. Everyone around here is certainly becoming used to change with new schools, new jobs and a ton of new experiences.

One of the things that has cramped my blogging style in the past has been getting used to the new parenting age we’ve hit in the last year or so. My big(ger) kids have gone from the “Mommy, blog this!” stage to “If you like any of my posts on FB, I’ll just die” stage. Which puts a cramp on this blog being the scrapbook type journal it has been in the past.

But with outgrown stages come new ones and the sentiment that keeps hitting me most these days is “Where is the PEPS group for middle school parents?!” So while I’ll be writing less these days about the cute things my kids have done, I will be thinking a lot about how to sail through the tween and teen years with as much parenting grace as possible.

But there still will be the cute photos of the family, especially the bunch of us who hung out together over New Year’s!

It was an incredibly important election for so many reasons. As a woman and a mother of daughters, as well as a mother of a son who may someday marry and have daughters of his own, but will certainly interact with women all of his life, the issues raised in this election were critical to the social progress our country has made over the past one hundred years. The thought that women cou

ld lose control over decisions that are ultimately theirs to make at the hands of representatives who have little empathy for those in conditions unlike their own was terrifying enough that even my six year old announced to her first grade class that she might be moving to Canada next week with or without her parents. And the realization that many of our closest friends weren’t allowed to marry was shocking to our kids who only know them as reliable grownups and parents, which is exactly who they are.

The intensity of stressful situations has a way of pulling people together. And by now we’re used to people sharing opinions and status online. Second screening it with Twitter and Facebook while watching popular television shows is a common occurrence that we know creates communities.

However, last night was different.

I stayed home last night to do early evening carpooling, help with homework and put kids to bed and finish up some work while listening to the results come in. I’d felt a bit sad that I was missing out on the election parties, but when I got onto Twitter, I found my own group. The discussions were open and emotional from both sides of the aisle and watching Obama’s speech with hundreds of others felt binding and cohesive. We laughed at the woman with the flag in her hair and cried proud tears and the dignity of a president who has the chance to build on the foundation he has begun.

And there was honesty. Sure, there were the temper tantrums and bashing (Really, now, Donald…), but social media, and especially Twitter, people seem to feel freer to express their real opinions and not just use the conversation as a headline. Both sides were heard and new opinions formed. And while I would never have voted for Romney, I do have a stronger understanding as to why some people did. And I’m not sure that could’ve happened at an election party.

I have faith in the America’s progress over the next four years and I hope we can take the lessons learned from open discussions online to direct our offline conversations to a more open place.

“We are greater than the sum of our individual ambitions, and we remain more than a collection of red states and blue states. We are and forever will be the United States of America. “

–Barack Obama

The thing is, after writing on this blog for almost ten years (eek!), I realized that I’d forgotten the reason I was blogging and who my audience was. The blog started because I wanted to share photos of my kids and my experiences with them. Remember, this was pre-FB days… (I am sooooo old!) And then I’d realized I’d found an outlet to share my experiences as a working mom. It was great fun, I met some really interesting people, found some incredible blogs and tried desperately to avoid the term “Mommy Blogger,” which is really just as annoying as “Mompreneur.”

But there was always this nagging feeling that I wasn’t able to be as honest as I really wanted to be. Parenting isn’t all sloppy kisses, cute overalls and yummy dimples, as you all know. And while some things happen in life that really don’t need to shared with the interwebs, especially when your kids get old enough to always be wondering if their latest is going to be blogged about, sometimes it is refreshing and honestly, just a relief, to get everything out in the open. It’s a relief to know that you’re not the only person experiencing the more trying parts of parenting. (And frankly, isn’t being perfect just a bore? Don’t answer that.)

I thought about abandoning More… But I just can’t. So instead, I’m committed to writing more often and more honestly. I want to go back to that exciting experience at the beginning of this blog when I looked forward to writing posts instead of dreading it. And while I don’t know exactly what that means yet, I’ll be actively figuring it out.

So in the meantime, just look for more soon.

When I said yes to writing a post about COOL WHIP, I had big plans.

I wanted to make this...

I remembered how, as a kid, we’d have COOL WHIP on our ice cream at night after dinner on movie nights and how we’d eat it slowly so that it would last as long as possible. And I remembered how my dessert would be mostly COOL WHIP and not so much ice cream because when it was frozen, it tasted like the richest, most creamy possible ice cream.

So I had big plans for my COOL WHIP. I was going to make some awesome dessert recipes I’d found. There was a great one with blended strawberries and you drizzle chocolate on top and it was going to make me feel like mom of the year. I bought my COOL WHIP, put it in the freezer and felt ready for the next day when I was going to make it for dessert.

But then I had a deadline to work on that night and as is often my unfortunate habit, I procrastinated with both coffee and whatever munchies were around. And that is when I remembered the COOL WHIP in the freezer. I got a spoon and took a spoonful, since a spoonful would affect the amount I needed the next day for my recipe. Even though it was a rather large spoonful…

And then after eating it, I had another. And another. And, ok…  One more. If I didn’t already know that it was only 25 calories for 2 tablespoons, I would’ve felt worse.

The next day when I went to make my dessert, I realized I didn’t have enough for the recipe. I spent about two seconds feeling bad about being such a slacker in the dessert prep department and then realized that as much as I enjoyed my treat last night, everyone else would, too. So, instead, after dinner I served bowls of COOL WHIP with strawberries sliced on top and chocolate syrup drizzled over the top. There was nothing fancy about it, but it was delicious and easy. Everyone loved it and it was totally stress-less in all ways. And that’s the beauty of a good dessert. It can be fancy or not, but awesome either way.

Thank you to COOL WHIP Whipped Topping for sponsoring this campaign. Sponsored posts are purely editorial content and are not advertiser produced.  Click here to see more of the discussion. What you add makes it. #coolwhipmoms

A few months ago, with a green Galatini in hand, I’d enthusiastically signed up for a pastry making and brunch event. If you know me, you’d know it was the Galatini doing the signing up. I am the Betty Crocker box kind of baker, which is mostly appreciated at five year old birthday parties (in the shape of a microphone, but that’s another story). I’m really okay with being this kind of baker because I also have little self control and if I could make incredible breads and pastries, I’d sit around eating them all day. The real reason I signed up had more to do with seeing my friends’ names on the list. Super mature.

So last Sunday, with a lot of grumping and tardiness, I picked up said friends and then  found myself in a gorgeous kitchen with a group of women I know from the kids’ school. The first incredible moment happened when we walked in and I saw that Leah Grossman, who I’d previously only known as my son’s friend’s grandmother, was the expert master baker. In all the time I’d known her, I had no idea she was this amazingly talented person. You know what they say about books and covers and judges and stuff…

Anyway, Leah set out to teach us how to make pastry dough and immediately I shut down and resorted back to my Betty Crocker self. Sure, I’d brought my Kaspar’s apron (work team morale cooking event) and rolling pin (used only by Boaz and Naomi for playdough). I chatted happily with everyone while we all started about and was relieved that there weren’t enough mixers to go around.

But then Leah turned to me and said, “Have you gone yet?” and I found myself mixing the dough and then rolling it out and fitting it into cute little tart pans and it was really fun. And surprisingly not scary. (C’mon, pasty dough is scary, right? Right?)

And then Leah said something that made my light bulb go off. She was working the dough in a very non-delicate, hands-on way and when someone commented on her approach, she said, “You can’t be a good cook if you’re afraid to get in there and mess up a bit.” (Or it was something like that.)

And it occurred to me that she was incredibly right.

It wasn’t just about cooking, though suddenly I did feel like I could take on that pastry dough at home, but it was about everything. I’d found myself so worried about failing lately that I’ve been afraid to trust my instincts. And this is true, even in areas where I do usually feel comfortable and at ease. And the pastry class was a very welcomed reminder that success rarely comes without at least a few ounces of failure. And those failures, should be welcomed for their learning value (and then not repeated, of course).

So even though the desire to try out the tart recipe at home disipated fairly quickly and I’m still grateful for the Betty Crocker boxes in my cabinets, I have a new appreciation for french baking and the extreme wisdom and truth behind it. Also, anything with that much butter in it has to be delicious.

While she was thinking about dolls and sewing and pretending to be famous gymnasts with her sister, I was torn between enjoying her flitterings and mourning the fact that I’m not able to say goodbye to my cousin and waiting for updates about her steady decline. I worried I’d miss her party, or a service.

But my cousin held on and Tali had a lovely bday, complete with a slumber party where she awed me with a mature ability to be a great and gracious host to her friends.

And today, her actual birthday, brought me to tears. I’d found out that a woman I don’t even know, but followed and was inspired by on twitter–@whymommy–had succumbed to breast cancer and had heard that Suzanne was still declining and who knew how much longer she had. And then I arrived at the kids’ school and saw my dear friend Josh’s boys playing in the yard-and they seemed happy and I wondered if he knew that– and generally, the sadness of it all was totally overwhelming.

And then I walked into the school and heard Tali singing to someone playing the guitar. Her voice is still childish, but she sings loudly and powerfully. And she was singing Matisyahu’s One Day, which is soulful and almost more powerful coming from a child. And although Tali has always been an incredible gift, today she gave me another one in the form of seeing the beauty of life when things feel just painful and ridiculously hard.

Happy Birthday to my Tali B…  Your strength and sensitivity are a gift to all of us who know you.

After spending a significant amount off time last Fall working on an iPad for a project, I started noticing how big and bulky my previously thought to be sleek and light laptop was beginning to feel. And when the Kindle Fire was announced, I was thrilled by its price point as well as it’s smaller size, because really, even though everyone raves about the iPad’s size, it seriously felt pretty maxi to me. Beautiful, but large. And hard to hold in bed, which is where I wanted to find myself browsing when I had the free time.

And then, I got a Kindle Fire from my husband for Chanuka. It was the best present I’ve received since the blue Schwin was delivered to our front door when I was eleven. I loved the clean and simple packaging (and yes, I often buy wine on that basis, too) and the fact that there were no instructions encouraged me to just plug it in and go. And it did.

Since set up syncs with your Amazon account, every e-book I’d ever bought from Amazon with the futile hope of reading it on the bus ride home from work on my laptop was instantly loaded onto my Kindle. My first night’s reading was set up for me and I spent the evening reading whitepapers and articles I’d downloaded for a future moment when I had time.

The next day I downloaded some apps. Mainly Twitter, Words with Friends, and AmazonFresh. But on the Kindle, they were easy and fun and addicting and well, I’ll never really get over the pleasure of ordering groceries from bed in the middle of the night when I suddenly remember we’re out of milk and I was supposed to supply snack for soccer. And its paperback size is just lovely and easy to hold.

And then I rediscovered the Kindle services. I browsed through the store and saw that I could download free books on a borrowed basis. Free? Books? Seriously? I instantly downloaded the new Jeffery Eugenides book that I’d been waiting to come out into paperback. Me? Even though I’m cheap, I didn’t have to wait.

And then I saw the short story selections. 99 cents for a short story? Count me in. I made myself an espresso and browsed the titles in a way I haven’t been able to since my first kid was born. I lost myself in book samples and saved the titles I wanted to read in the future. I read the reviews and added my own opinions. And I found myself sending titles to people I thought would be interested in them.

Yes, it was a bit disarming how easy it was to purchase and how little I had to do to access my Amazon account. And my son, who received the basic Kindle, was informed that he had to be incredibly careful with that aspect of the technology. Anyone who accessed my reader could charge up a storm fairly easily, though I’m assuming in future iterations Amazon will address this issue.

Regardless, I was back in the book store. It was heady and freeing and exciting.

Later, I went back to look up a coat I’d seen a few weeks back to see if it was on sale yet and started browsing the store site. They didn’t have a dedicated android or tablet app and the experience was only just a bit more gratifying than browsing on my Windows 7 Phone. Not a rich or exceedingly pleasing experience at all–just functional.

But that’s okay. Because for that, the iPad is a better experience. It’s rich and luxurious, they way a shopping experience has the potential to be.

The Kindle, it’s a reader. Which is awesome. It’s what I want it to be because it brought my bookstores back to this busy working mother.

As for my printed books? I’m not ready to give up on them yet. Maybe they’ll go back to being the luxury items they once were. A reason to save trees, but much more accessible than they used to be.

Though nobody should ever have to be deprived of that amazing smell of fresh book.

“Mama,” Naomi said to me the other day, “Our house looks haunted compared to all our neighbors with their pretty lights.”
“Haunted?” I said. “Well, certainly a little darker. But think about how much fun we’re having inside the house.” B snickered, most likely thinking about the bickering that had been going on all morning and then my own tirade about how messy everything was, including the fence out front that desperately needed to be replaced. Our neighbors told us it had been there for as long as they lived there and that was at least thirty years.
So I pulled out the box of Chanuka decorations we drag out every year, as well as some felt, glitter and glue and we commenced to get all crafty with ourselves and create some new decorations to up our Chanuka bling factor…

Then we broke out the cookie cutters and made cookies.

“We should give them to the neighbors,” Tali decided.

“But they don’t celebrate Chanuka,” Naomi said. Shouldn’t we be giving them tree and candy cane cookies?”

“Why wouldn’t they like these cookies?” I asked them. They shrugged, but didn’t look like they were buying my reasoning that why wouldn’t their neighbors like the same silver sparkles that were exciting to them.

In the middle of wrapping up the cookies with cellophane and ribbon, I looked up and saw that B had demolished much of the fence we’d been talking about earlier. Suddenly, we could see the entire front yard and street from the kitchen. The light in the house looked totally different. There was definitely more light in the house, even during the dark Seattle days. Sure, the flower beds were totally torn up in the process and we’d have to wait until spring to do anything about it, but light is a really good thing in December in Seattle.

The girls and I took the cookie packages to our neighbors and at each house we stopped at, we stopped and visited. The girls were asked about Chanuka and we also got to learn about some Swedish traditions. At each house, the girls got more and more excited.

“Why don’t we do this more often?”  and “Did you see how excited they were to get dreidel cookies?” Even though Chanuka has nothing to do with Xmas besides the time of year, it felt good to share the holidays with the neighbors. It felt good to feel more a part of our neighborhood community. And in the darkest days of the year, who doesn’t need a little community?

So we decided to make our cookie deliveries an annual event. And later that evening when we lit our Chanukiyot, we noticed something else. Where we previously only saw that fence, now the reflection of our candles in the window flickered along with the holiday lights across the street. Tali saw it first and ran outside to the front.

“Hey! Now you can see our Chanukiyot from the street!”

We walked out to front yard to see our five Chanukiyot in the window, cheerfully lit and visible to everyone.

“We have decorations,” Naomi said proudly. “No more haunted house.”

.