In July, our newly minted Kindergartener got a new backpack and pair of shoes.  Timothy was ready for school…. Enjoy the next 15 years of your life, kid.   I was ready for the extra free time.  “It gets easier once the kids start school,”a chorus of friends and well-wishers said.
 
Now, three months into our new routine, I am sad to report it was all a lie.   It’s not easieras a matter of fact, it’s more complex.  I had finally gotten into the habit of juggling two kids under four when I get thrown a fire torch into the mix. 
 
Yes, our house has always been schedule focused, but we didn’t have to live and die by the clock.  You can always be 15 minutes late getting to the zoo.  As much as veering from the schedule irks my nerves, I could tolerate it.  “You want to keep playing, sure the library will still be open when you are done.”  “Aren’t hungry for breakfast…there’s always snack time.”
 
Not anymore. Breakfast HAS to be served at 7:15, which also includes my pleads for TW to “just eat a little bit.”  Out the door HAS to be at 7:50, along with my “Richard don’t dawdle, Richard don’t dawdle.”  And while we are at it – “Dog, don’t you dare puke!”  I can’t have a deviation from our morning routine.  
 
Sure, lugging around one child during the day is much easier.  But not when the child is melancholy about losing his best and onlyfriend.  I have become defacto entertainment.  “Mom what’s that…. Mom what’s this… Mom how do you spell lighthouse?” (I should also add Richard currently has that really annoying three-year whinny voice.)
 
No one warned me about “Kid Pick-up Hell.”  Maybe it’s because it’s been a while since my friends had to pick up kids at elementary school.   I would like to go on record as saying I appreciate and support the pick-up protocols which insure my child doesn’t get into a “Free Candy” van.   But in the height of summer, walking home from school would amount to child endangerment.  The next option is the vehicle queue.  And god forbid you don’t get in the queue at the right time, you’ll be waiting for an hour, which means your child is waiting outside for you for an hour.  (And here’s a little hint – little kids don’t think about hydrating. )
 
So that means, Richard and I get to sit in the car for an hour.  At first I thought, Okay maybe I can use the time to read.  But no, I am busy spelling out words for Richard.
 
I thought my schedule was organized well enough, but now it has a slick top layer, which includes “It’s Library day!” as you run around the house tracking the library book.  “You have to wear orange today?! You don’t OWN anything orange, I hate the color orange for clothing.”

Then, adding insult to injury come the “Jamba Juice Fridays.”  “Jamba Juice Fridays” is when your school shakes your kid down for $3 to be used for books, or school spirit or apples, or something. I would like to clearly state my opposition to Jamba Juice.  Not because it’s not tasty or its price-point…. It’s because it parades around as healthy, when actually it’s liquid sugar.  I try to take a stand and opt out of this kickback. 
 
I complain about the Jamba Juice issue in particular to a school teacher friend.
 
“Jamba Juice Fridays are very important,” she said.  “They are serious business, there will be a crying child all the way home.  Send the three dollars and make your life better.”
 
By lunchtime, I find a way to slip TW three bucks.  How sad would it be for Timothy to be the only kid without a cup of liquid sugar just because his mother has a moral objection to the company’s marketing?  
 
Now that I know better, I will not be telling other parents to look forward to their children starting school.  I will not lie to them about fantasy free time or say it will be easier.  I will tell them to always make sure they have $3 cash at all times, because you don’t want to be caught flat-footed on Jamba Juice Friday.

Walking is our main source of exercise.  And primarily,  walking our dog.  Tim is so meticulously regular about walking the family dog that once he was asked if he was a “dog walker.”  “Well, I walk my dog,” he responded.  But I think the question was meant as: did he provide his dog walking services for a fee. I saw a second career opportunity for him. He pointed out the couple was dressed for the gym, while their chunky dog looked on jealously at our Boxer.

We have a nice safe neighborhood designed for walking. And during our walks we usually discuss our superiority over our neighbors who get dogs but never walk them. 
So why would a family which likes to feel superior about walking our dog hire Mobile Dog Run, a company that walks your dog? Because it’s freaking hot, that’s why!

Mobile Dog Run owned by Marc Singer comes to your house in a passenger van. Please note the van is air conditioned. They put your dog on something akin to a tread mill. For a $30 fee, your dog gets 30 minutes in the Mobile Dog Run van. 

I was a little concerned about our new dog, Oso, using this service.  He is a rescue and we are still working on some issues during walks.  Would he take to it or maul the owner? Luckily, the former occurred because Mobile Dog Run is going to be a new treat at our house. 

Tim is still hesitant about me walking Oso alone.  So now when Tim is out of town, the dog doesn’t have to miss out on his walks.  Also, I can pass a “dog run” off as a present. “Here honey, for your birthday I am outsourcing the dog walk."

I know what you are thinking.  How bourgeoisie! Yes, yes it is. Our dog has the privilege of walking in an AC van, while other dogs have to hang out in a dirt lot. But let’s face it, Americans continue to spend on their pets - it’s recession proof. 

More importantly, in Arizona, in the summer - it’s HOT!  And walking a dog in the summer heat can be hazardous to their health.  Should you put your dog in harm’s way with hot asphalt or deprive them of their walks? Dogs are members of the family, they deserve a little respite from the heat. The kids get Otter Pops. The dog gets frozen yogurt bones. The kids get to dip in the pool. The dog gets to walk in an air-conditioned van.  

Marc serves the Phoenix, Ariz. area and is available at 602-500-9809

The kids are into Star Wars, which means every weekend we are watching a movie. But some of the dialogue no longer rings true to me …  here’s a more accurate version. 
 
Star Wars: A New Hope
 
Scene: INT. IMPERIAL STARDESTROYER
On the main viewscreen, the lifepod carrying the two terrified robots speeds away from the stricken Rebel spacecraft.
 
CHIEF PILOT:  There goes another one.
 
CAPTAIN: Hold your fire. There are no life forms. It must have been short-circuited.
 
INT. LIFEPOD - Artoo and Threepio look out at the receding Imperial starship. Stars circle as the pod rotates through the galaxy.
 
Chief Pilot: But captain, it’s possible the rebels just sent the plans on an escape pod without an escort. Can’t I just shot it just to make sure?
 
Captain: Craig, Where you not just at the Conservation training? We all have to do our part to save firepower.
 
Chief Pilot: Sir, I am all for conservation, but it seems silly to not shot this emergency vessel, even if there is no life form.  The risk reward calculation....
 
Captain: Ok, you want a risk reward calculation... each one of those missiles is $40,000.  And my ass is on the line to meet budget before the quarterly earnings.
 
Chief Pilot: Sir, I understand you are under a lot of pressure, but a good quarter will be worthless if those plans escape, the whole Death Star could be at risk….
 
Captain:  Well you sure are connecting an awful lot of dots, and you are making a lot of assumptions.  But we don’t pay you to make assumptions; you get paid to follow orders.  And my bonus doesn’t depend on whether or not we stop the Rebels; my bonus is tied to the budget.  So no Craig.... you may hold your fire because there are no life forms on that pod and we are just going to write this one up to an electrical malfunction. 

There are so many things about parenting you learn on the fly. For example, how you really need a dinosaur taco holder. My spouse is a sucker for Amazon's "add-ons," small items that are priced cheap if added to larger orders. It's the internet shopping equivalent of endcap displays. And I'm a sucker for encap displays.

An Amazon box arrives and out pops Tricerataco. It's a dinosaur. It holds your tacos! First, a fight ensues because my husband bought only ONE taco holder and we have two toddler boys. TW wins out, but of course now his request is for me to make him a taco.

"Timothy you just had lunch," I said. "Are you sure you want a taco?"

"Yes, taco in the dinasour."

So, I whip up some quick bean and cheese tacos, place them on Tricerataco. Timothy sits it down next to him, just to look at. He really didn't want to eat a taco, but you can't have a dinasour taco holder without a taco.

Can these be used for anything else? Absolutely not. The dinasour would consider it an act of aggression and will attack. I had to do a lot of cajoling just to let it wear a soft taco as opposed to the crunchy taco it is accustomed to. "Mexican tacos don't really crunch," I told him.

Can a home with toddlers survive without one? Absolutely not! And any parent that doesn't rush out and get one should be reported to CPS.​

Do we need another one? Absolutely! A second Tricerataco taco holder is on its way, along with a Brontosaurus ladle and T-Rex serving fork. Because, ya' know, we are good parents and we only want what's best for our kids. And we are suckers for dinosaurs and deals.

It’s nice my kids are close in age.  “They will grow up thick as thieves,” people often say.  And that’s true.  They are finally getting to an age where they can play with each other.  (They have also gotten to the age where I have to separate them from their cage-matches, but I digress.)
 
I still want to have my children interact with other kids.  Since they are not in daycare, that leads to things like “Toddler Time” and “Play Dates.”  For those of you who don’t have kids, “Toddler Time” is like going out to the bar and “Play dates” are like a date, but only  a “meet up for coffee” date.
 
So I find myself using my 20-something skillsets to set up these play-dates.
 
Break the ice:  If your child is interacting with other child, make an effort to seek out their mom and start a conversation with her.  This can be easier said than done, since most moms may be attached to their phone, but when you see an opening go for it.  It’s okay to use a cliché to start the conversation.  “How old is your daughter?” is akin to “Nice tie.”
 
Put yourself out there:  I made contact cards so I could give out my name and number.  It’s easier than scribbling down your info on a piece of paper.  And for those that know me, I feel naked without a business card.   It’s okay to be a digit whore – if it's for your kids.  “Here, take my contact, let’s plan an outing!”
 
Cast a wide net:  In the world of mommyhood, just like in the world of dating, you want to cast a wide net.   Sometimes you will not get called back.  Sometimes there will be no second date.  But the wider the net, the better the chances you will find the right buddy for your kid.
 
Crack open the little black book:  Sure, it’s not fashionable to recycle old boyfriends.   But sometimes it's just easier to go through your existing rolodex.    “Hey remember when we used to go bar hopping back in College?  I see you have a kid now, and I have kids now.  Do you want to meet up at the playground for a juice box?”
 
Play the field/sandbox/jungle gym:  You don’t have to keep having the same play date with the same kid.  Diversity is the spice of life.  Meet up with Sue for story time on Friday then see Johnny at the Zoo on Saturday Morning.  That way, when birthdays roll around, you can have them all there at your shindig.   And unlike your twenties, this type of meeting won’t be so awkward. 

​I have learned a lot about myself in recent years.  During adversity, I have found myself to be resourceful and resilient.   I am amenable to criticism. I am adaptable to change.
 
In the past, the change I had to manage was a slow moving type of change.  A new operating system, a new process at work, a new boss with a new set of expectations. You learn the new system, you adapt and change… and then steady as she goes until 6 months from now when the operating system is updated.
 
Then come toddlers.  Now I am learning the true meaning of adapting to change.  Just when you have a routine that works.  BANG. Growth spurt, new development.  Time to change and adapt again.  The new routine you set only lasts 2 weeks.  BANG.  They change; you have to change with it.
 
I have been reading Thomas Friedman’s Thank You For Being Late.  I have loved this author since I read The Earth is Flat, which completely changed my view on globalization.    Friedman’s book talks about rapidly changing technology and how other institutions, such as companies and governments are trying to keep up.  He uses an interesting analogy about whitewater rafting.  “Keep your paddle in the water.” A novice might think it means keep the paddle in the water to create an anchor to slow you down.  But an experienced whitewater rafter knows this means keep paddling.  You want to go as fast, if not faster than the water.
 
I take this analogy  to heart.  The Linskey Boys are fast mutating viruses, constantly changing and growing.  Being “good at change” is not good enough.  I have to excel at it. I have to move as fast or faster than their development. 
 
In conclusion, Richard and Timothy have transitioned to toddler beds.  [It took them a little while longer than expected to realize they were capable of jumping out of their crib].  AND they both got ear infections during said transition.   I haven’t slept in two weeks. 

​Not in the hospital.  Not while breastfeeding.  Not while changing dirty diapers.
 
Today.  Today,  I feel like a “mom.”   And not Timothy & Richard’s mom, specifically.  No, today I am “Snack Mom.”  Actually, I think the politically correct term is  “Snack Parent.” [insert political rant of your choosing here]
 
Timothy is now 3 (and potty-trained). He is starting Building Blocks, a pre-K program, offered through the City of Chandler.  During the Parent Meet & Greet, volunteers were asked to bring snacks for the kids.  Not homemade snacks, but pre-packaged-store-bought-snacks.  Nothing with nuts.
 
Being the go-getter that I am, I signed up for the first day of class.   I am excited to walk into this world of Mommyhood where my Type A personality will be appreciated.  Yes, my plan is to be that mom.   I have started already.  Why just bring snacks for the kids, when I can bring homemade fruit yogurt parfaits and coffee drinks for the teachers.  And while I’m at it, why not bake banana bread for the staff break room.  [Note:  It’s just banana bread, I didn’t add any nuts] 

I haven’t made tamales in 15 years.  Let me rephrase that…. I have only made tamales once in my life in 2001.  Sure, when I was young, I would assist in the preparations.  But being young and inept in the kitchen, my job was to wash the hojas.  Maybe, I would be put in the assembly line, adding the olive.  That was my tamale-making experience.
 
It was in 2001, a girlfriend of mine and I decided to undertake tamale making. I was in Central Illinois. We were both ‘low man on the corporate totem pole,’ neither of us would be going home for Christmas that year.
 
My Abuela, mom and aunts would take a whole day making the tamales.  But we were young, efficient, modern women.  It shouldn’t take us more than a couple of hours, right? So my friend Maria came over after work and we got started. We had a lot of nuanced debates. Beef? We are making them with beef?!  No you have to put more masa in that.  An Olive?! What do you mean you put an olive?!
 
We were done at 3 a.m.  And I learned a very important lesson.  I don’t remember the lesson because I was so exhausted, but I had gotten the cockiness kicked out of me.
 
The tamales were good but different from what I was used to. (Which is bound to happen when you try to meld your family receipt with someone else’s.) Maria eventually took some to her mother who was so very proud of her.  I ended up giving most of mine away to unsuspecting white folks who had never seen such a thing, but seemed to enjoy them.
 
Fast forward to 2016, and I feel this need to make Tamales. Now I have kids of my own, and it just seems like the responsible thing to do.
 
But I am not feeding a tribu of family members, so emerges my hipster-melding-with –traditional-culture.
 
Small Batch Artisan Tamales
I present to you Small Batch Artisan Tamales.  In my last year of learning to cook, a couple of times I have found myself thinking…. This would be good in a tamale.  So here was my tamale selection:

• Traditional pork:  I dug out the instructions I got from my Abuela.  They are very cryptic, “Now add the chile” but it doesn’t say how much.  There is always an element to winging it in old receipts, but they turn out good.
• Pot Roast: Making a traditional pot roast, and then stuffing it into the masa.  It would be the same as taking a pot roast and serving on a bed of polenta.  Except now I have found a way to make pot roast portable!
• BBQ pork:  hmmm… Why not!  My brother and I did the taste test.  It was surprisingly delicious.  But something was missing.  This is not a tamale that you can eat by itself.  It really begs to be served on a bed of baked beans.

 
For dessert – Sweet Tamales
The standard with Abuela was adding sugar to the masa and a can of crushed pineapple and raisins.  I worked on making it fancier.

• Caramelized Pineapple:  I ditched the can and opted for the real thing.  But first, I caramelized the pineapple, which made them super tasty with a freshness and crunch.
• Banana Nut Bread:  Adding mashed bananas and pecans.  They tasted like a stockier version of Banana Nut Bread.
• Peanut Butter & Jelly:  I did these at Tim’s suggestion.  I made two small samples, one using peanut powered, one using creamy peanut butter.   Then I filled them with store-bought strawberry jam.    The ones with the peanut powder where a fail.  Not enough peanut taste.  The ones with peanut butter where better, but no quite right.   I think the key may be to use all natural peanut butter and homemade jam.

So now I am hooked on this cultural blending.  Besides perfecting the PB&J, my next challenge will be to figure out how to make Corned Beef Tamales work.