I’ve been sitting around waiting for some sort of divine inspiration or something and … nada.
Therefore, and with the idea that a picture is worth 1000 words, I’d like to offer up 3000 by way of a pictorial history of my boy.
Enjoy. 
Puddles are perfection.
Last night, Gray told me he’d prefer it if I hurried up with my silly blog writing thing. He really really wanted me to read to him.
“Will it be 12 seconds mom?” he asked just before bed, rubbing his eyes.
“Maybe a little longer,” I answered, reminding him that Mira was standing by ready to read him a story.
“13 seconds??!” he responded, incredulous.
“Well…” I hedged. “Probably longer.”
Gray frowned and shook his head, a serious look on his face. “No…you gotta read me a story in 12 seconds.”
I encouraged him to go with his sisters to brush his teeth, then let me know when he was finished so that, yes, I could read to him. He was okay with that idea and I figured it would buy me enough time to write something coherent.
Ten minutes later, I was still sitting in front of this screen trying to wrench words from my brain. I’ve been lame with this blog in the past week. Much of my energy has been going into my Birds&Clouds project. Not much is left over for this one. My thoughts are all jumbled, ideas disjointed.
Ironically, the chaos in my head has been undermining my ability to write about the chaos in my life.
So…I read Graysen a story and went to bed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I’ve been thinking a lot about parenting lately. Running up against such challenges as lame homework and stressed out kids…debating whether or not to let the older kids miss a day of school in order to go skiing (answer: yes, they should go skiing)…hearing from Gray’s teacher that he is, shall we say, an “out of the box thinker…. NOT that this is a bad thing but….sometimes he needs to think inside the box…”
Yes, like all the other good little boys and girls who sit quietly and pay attention in school.
I am parenting four children who are in the system. Further, I’m parenting four children in such a way that I’m fairly certain they’re going to grow up to reject the system…it’s an odd and troublesome irony I wrestle with constantly.
The thing is, homeschooling is just not an option right now. I need my space and they need their friends.
So we make do, and I continue to stay focused on my goal as a mother. Fortunately, that’s rather simple (I’m a bit absentminded these days, so simple goals are best!).
The goal that eclipses all others is simply this: to protect and encourage my kids’ individuation.
I need the space, you see, that comes with having independent kids.
To that end, I put away the one thing I really wanted to do last night, as I mentioned earlier. I saved the draft of this post and attended to my sleepy little boy who really needed a story. I wanted so much to write without interruption….but life called. And I answered.
Sometimes, individuation is best protected and encouraged by saying yes.
And many more things besides. But now, I’m tired. This took far longer than 12 seconds and it’s getting late. So over the course of a few more days I’ll muse further about this idea. It’s “up” for me right now…something to do with having teenagers, I’m sure.
And a willful little five year old who thinks outside the box.
Guess I’m doing something right.
Perhaps I’m crazy, but I tend to think that history is pretty interesting. I’m fascinated whenever I see old photos. I love to study them, look into the staring eyes of people now long dead and wonder about their lives. I also love reading the words of those who lived ages ago. I imagine the world as it was then-devoid of the grind of car engines, the whine of planes in the sky. I marvel at the fact that horses were the primary means of travel (and of this, I am a bit wistful…I wanted so badly as a child to live in a place [in a time?] where I could ride a horse all day long).
I ponder the fact that wars were fought not on the television but in the streets of our own country. I was recently reminded of the story my mom told me about my great great great great (?) grandmother being handed through a window to safety by slaves, wrapped in a quilt with the family Bible, as Sherman marched to the sea….
Fascinating.
So I was dishearted and upset when I read the following passage, this evening, in Mira’s history text book:
The English competed with the French for furs. Also, different Native American groups competed to supply furs to the Europeans. The fur trade created economic and military alliances between the Europeans and their Native American trading partners. The Huron and Algonquin peoples of the Great Lakes region were allied with the French. The Iroquois of upper New York often were allied with the Dutch and, later, the English.
Alliances between Europeans and Native Americans led to their involvement in each other’s wars. For example, by the mid 1600s, the Iroquois had trapped all the beavers in their own lands. To get more furs, they made war on their Huron and Algonquin neighbors, driving them west. Eventually the Iroquois controlled an area ranging from Maine west to the Ohio Valley and north to Lake Michigan. Iroquois expansion threatened the French fur trade. In response, the French armed the Huron and Algonquin peoples to fight the Iroquois. The Iroquois were armed by the English.
When France and England declared war on each other in Europe in 1689, French and English colonists in America also began to fight. With their Native American allies, they attacked each other’s settlements and forts. During the 1700s, two more wars between France and England fueled wars in their colonies. Neither side won a clear victory in these wars. A final war, the French and Indian war, (1754-1763), decided which nation would control the northern and eastern parts of North America.
Did you get that? Are you now just completely overwhelmed with excitement about the conflicts that lead to the French and Indian War?
Didn’t think so.
Neither was Mira. That passage I just typed out was just one of eight such passages that she was supposed to read and write her own thoughts about. Problem was, simply reading it was enough to make her eyes glaze over. Honestly, even I had to read this one over a couple of times to get the main thoughts out of it and begin to visualize the events in such a way that I could help her navigate them in her own words.
To me, it’s all a bunch of blahbedyblah, and a waste of our evening.
Amount of time Mira spent on homework tonight: 2 hours. And she burnt out before she was finished so she’ll have to go back to it in the morning.
I am slowly working on what to say to her adviser. I’m still not entirely sure how to address this. What I really want to do is single-handedly overhaul the educational system in this country. I want to mandate interesting textbooks…assuming textbooks are the best choice. Mostly I think they’re a waste of paper. Try writing schlock like that in a commercial history book for adults.
Bet it wouldn’t even be published.
It’s a problem on a massive scale, and I don’t have all the answers. But I do know this: In order to help kids maintain a love for learning and a passion for the all the ways this world works, we have to stop treating education in this country like a forced march toward the nebulous goal of graduation.
You know what I did on the day I graduated from high school? I smoked a cigarette on the soccer field and rejoiced in the fact that I was finally free to learn on my own terms.
Along those same lines, I have to confess tonight that I have given up on The Facts About Shakespeare. I plodded through the first bit of it, trying not to yawn…it was written much like Mira’s history book. It’s a dry body of research conducted a very very long time ago about the Bard himself, complete with dates thrown about and references to documents that seem to prove or disprove Shakespeare’s standing in society and the timelines within which he wrote. Fascinating, perhaps, for those with a vested interest in the idea that Shakespeare didn’t actually write any of the stuff thus attributed to him. But even for them, this book may be a touch dry. I’d rather read the Bard himself.
So without further ado, I move to the next book on that shelf:
Arctic Dreams, by Barry Lopez.
“On a warm summer day in 1823…” it begins.
Ah, history.
It’s true. I may not be in school anymore, but I hate it nonetheless.
Every day when the kids get home from school, Mira (8th grade) spreads her books, papers, and binders all over the bar in the kitchen so that she can do her work while I cook dinner. Then, she proceeds to spend the next few hours working through assignment after assignment.
Meanwhile, Chiara (4th grade) has nightly assignments. She has math worksheets and reading logs. Projects. Cursive practice. And a minimum of 30 minutes of reading a night.
I ask you, considering the fact that the older kids get home at 5:30…and need to go to bed around 9:30….where does that leave any time for family? Tonight, Mira spent at least 4 hours on a project, and will have to get up early to finish coloring it. And it isn’t as though she waited until the last minute, either. She’d already done a bunch of research and write ups about her topic, which was epilepsy.
She ate her dinner while working on her project.
She needed constant assistance from me while working on her project.
Meanwhile, there’s dinner to cook (thankfully, Chris is home this week, a rarity, so he did dinner while I helped Mira figure out how to organize her facts)…a five-year old bouncing off the walls…another kid with, you guessed it, homework to do. Homework that she needed help on.
I suppose I should be grateful that Soren (9th grade) rarely brings anything home. That, however, is only because he has an IEP in school and thus was assigned to an academic lab class, in which he does his daily assignments and gets one on one teacher assistance.
But if he doesn’t qualify for an IEP again next year, that work will all come home. And then I will have to somehow figure out how to feed the kids, calm and occupy the small tyrant, quiz Chiara on her multiplication tables, go through her backpack, help her with her math worksheets, assist Mira with whatever, PLUS help Soren find a space where he can focus and assist with math I do not understand any longer (not to mention offer help with French, English, History, Science, etc…on any given night).
I am one person, and I’m sorry…but when do we get to be a family? Just on weekends? That isn’t okay with me.
Plus the stress I see in the kids just kills me. It’s too early for them to start running the rat race. They’re too young to be Type As. Mira, however, is well on her way there. At this pace, I wouldn’t be terribly surprised if she’s an ulcer candidate before too long.
Lastly, I can’t help but wonder why there’s such a push for homework in an age when more and more working adults are drawing boundaries for themselves, and choosing to leave work at work. Experts on human behavior warn against the stress of working too much, yet that is exactly what our kids’ schools are expecting of them.
I’m tired of it and plan to talk with Mira’s adviser about it in parent/teacher conferences soon.
Meanwhile, I offer support as I can. Encouragement whenever appropriate. And perspective…for myself and for them. The best I can do right now.
One of my favorite experts on the subject is Alfie Kohn. He’s written extensively on parenting, and has a few things to say about homework. Here’s an article I just found on his website. See what YOU think.
Kids May Be Right After All: Homework Stinks
By Alfie Kohn
With the start of a new school year, students once again are shifting impatiently in their seats, working their way through an endless pile of worksheets.
And that’s after they come home.
A new study confirms what kids and parents already know: The “tougher standards” fad that has American education in its grip has meant more and more homework for younger and younger children.
Several years ago, we learned that the proportion of 6- to 8-year- olds who reported having homework on a given day had climbed from 34% in 1981 to 58% in 1997, and that the weekly time spent studying more than doubled during the same period.
Last month, professor Sandra Hofferth at the University of Maryland released an update to that study. Now, the proportion of young children who had homework on a specific day jumped to 64%, and the amount of time they spent on it climbed by another third. Homework rates for 6- to 8-year-olds are now virtually equivalent to those for 9- to 12-year-olds. And let’s not even talk about the high school workload.
What the research shows about the growing burden of homework is disconcerting. Equally important, however, is what the research doesn’t show: namely, that homework is necessary or beneficial. We know all about the stress and exhaustion, the family conflict and loss of time for other activities. (“Our kids are missing out on their childhoods,” one Mom laments.) But we reassure ourselves that it’s all worth it because homework raises achievement, teaches independence and good work habits, helps them to become more successful learners.
Remarkably, however, the data to support those beliefs just don’t exist:
* There is no evidence that homework provides any benefits in elementary school. Even if you regard standardized test results as a useful measure (which I don’t), homework isn’t even associated with higher scores at this age. The only effect that does show up is more negative attitudes on the part of students who get more assignments.
* In high school, some studies do find a correlation between homework and test scores (or grades), but it’s usually fairly small and it has a tendency to disappear when more sophisticated statistical controls are applied. Moreover, there’s no evidence that higher achievement is due to the homework even when an association does appear.
* International comparisons offer no reassurance. In describing the results of their analysis of student performance across 50 countries, which was published last year, Pennsylvania State University researchers David Baker and Gerald Letendre said: “Not only did we fail to find any positive relationships,” but “the overall correlations between national average student achievement and national averages in [amount of homework assigned] . . . are all negative.”
* Finally, not a single study has ever supported the claim that homework teaches good work habits or develops positive character traits such as self-discipline and independence. These assumptions could be described as urban myths except for the fact that they’re still taken seriously in suburban and rural areas, too.
In short, the research provides no reason to think that students would be at any sort of disadvantage if they got much less homework – or maybe even none at all. And the accounts I’ve heard from teachers and schools that have abolished after-school assignments, yet whose students are succeeding brilliantly (while maintaining their enthusiasm about learning) offer evidence of a different sort.
Yet these schools are in the minority, to say the least. As a rule, homework is assigned not merely on those occasions when the teacher really believes it might help, but on a regular schedule that’s been determined ahead of time. And the homework load is growing fastest for younger children, which is precisely where the supporting evidence isn’t just shaky – it’s nonexistent.
It’s time for us to stop taking the value, and existence, of homework for granted. Rather than confining ourselves to peripheral questions – “What types of binders should kids have?” “Is x minutes enough time for this assignment?” – we should ask what really matters: Is the kind of homework our kids are getting worth doing in any amount? What evidence exists to show that daily homework is necessary for children to become better thinkers or more engaged learners?
And: What if, after spending six or seven hours a day at school, we let them have their afternoons and evenings just to be kids?
Copyright © 2006 by Alfie Kohn. This article may be downloaded, reproduced, and distributed without permission as long as each copy includes this notice along with citation information (i.e., name of the periodical in which it originally appeared, date of publication, and author’s name). Permission must be obtained in order to reprint this article in a published work or in order to offer it for sale in any form. Please write to the address indicated on the Contact Us page.
Change got a little fuzzy tonight.
I succumbed.
The kids and I came to my mom’s to discuss, uh, cookbooks (I know, bad thing to talk about when one is eschewing food) and she arrived with armloads of….food. Mashed potatoes. Pot stickers. Broccoli. Fried rice from my favorite Indian restaurant.
Oh. My.
I rationalized my first pot sticker with: hey, I DID quit caffeine. That is quite the accomplishment!
The second one I just ate and loved.
The fried rice with tofu looked…healthy. So I had a few spoonfuls.
Then, astonishingly, I was full. Two pot stickers, five tablespoons of fried rice, and two pieces of broccoli did me in.
And conquered the craving, which I’m sure will be back with a vengeance tomorrow. Of course, we’re invited to a friend’s house for dinner tomorrow night so I s’pose I should eat something.
I know. I know. Fail.
But you know something? I’m okay with this for several reasons:
1. I quit caffeine and have no desire to go back.
2. I have become nearly food-obsessed recently, and not just because I started a cleanse. There’s some je ne sais quoi about food and cooking that has taken over my waking hours starting last fall. Suddenly, I want to learn how to understand food, not just follow a recipe. I even looked up the culinary courses available at the community college today, and entertained the idea of taking two in the fall, two more in the spring. Yes, all this from a mama who’d always hated cooking for one reason or another.
3. I felt better when I was eating a few raw veggies and soup during the day, than when I was only drinking the Master Cleanse Lemonade. I do realize that if I lasted a couple more days that would have changed. I also realize that maybe I didn’t just quit my cleanse but rather had a momentary lapse of reason from which I can pick up where I left off with potstickers in hand tonight.
4. My husband, Chris, talked about maybe trying this cleanse too, during his week home (next week!). So maybe it will be easier to do it with him?
5. I apparently shrunk my stomach.
6. I have this abiding urge to start power hiking, which I imagine will help further my personal health goals something fierce.
7. Last but not least, I can always start over another time and do it a bit differently.
So maybe it wasn’t a fail after all. Maybe what it taught me is that moderation is the key to success in my own life.
Or something like that.
And maybe, just maybe, I get some major points for saying no thanks to the dessert de la nuit here at Mom’s: Eggos with mixed berries and syrup. Yeah. I tend to like Eggos…so this is definitely call for POINTS.
It was a banner day ’round these parts.
First, I successfully made it to day 4 of my cleanse, and the first day of the Master Cleanse lemonade. I feel great. A little tired but not weak at all. I took ibuprofen around 3 for a rising headache, but the fact that I could wait that long is testament to the fact that this is working. All the other days I was popping pills to relieve my caffeine headaches by about 8:30 am.
I’ve decided to include miso soup in my regimen for now. It’s a nice addition, I think, and adds a different flavor to my day.
This is, I have to say, the first day I’ve noticed that I feel a bit trimmer around the middle. Finally.
I imagine it will only get better from here!
Another exciting moment for us was when I reached into the mailbox and pulled out….
CHIARA’S NEW GLASSES!
The poor kid has been waiting for them for awhile. We got her prescription in late November, but shuddered at glasses prices (we don’t have vision insurance so the whole thing was a pretty big financial hit). I was looking at having to spend $250 at least at the physician’s office–just for the frames and lenses themselves. The exam was over $150. Even Sam’s Club wasn’t much better (a bit…but still in the hundreds).
Then, a good friend of mine sent me a link to Zenni Optical.
Wow. Chiara and I scanned through the kids’ glasses and she got so excited. It took me a little while to figure out how to enter the prescription info (I don’t wear glasses so this is all Greek to me!) but when I got stumped, I called them and they were VERY helpful.
The glasses took about 2 1/2 weeks to arrive but now they’re HERE and she is so excited. Even better, she can SEEEEEE. Finally.
Further, her corrected vision didn’t break the bank. BOTH pairs with shipping cost about $55. Seriously. If she breaks ‘em, we can replace them for under $30. I am so so so relieved!
Of course, no excitement would be complete without a little bit of sibling jealousy thrown in the mix. Graysen announced that he needs glasses. That he can’t see. Further, he’s blind. The world is all green and black. Unless….
He’s playing the Wii. Then he can see JUST FINE. So I’m not really sure if he’s asking for glasses or asking to play the Wii 24/7.
Regardless, we’re stoked. Chiara gently cleaned her lenses, then carefully labeled her cases so she doesn’t mix them up.
Yay for today!
Not much to say tonight. I’ve been in a haze all day, despite going to bed last night at 9:45 and despite taking a two hour nap this morning. I felt okay this afternoon but still dazed.
Caffeine fighting a losing battle in body, I reckon. Still caffeine-free since Sunday. I figure if nothing else, getting rid of that dependence is a lofty goal.
I finally had my infant photoshoot today and wow, what a little sweetie! With nothing more to really say here, I’ll close with a few pics from that session. For all those with a special fondness for teensy ones, here’s a fix.
No caffeine since Sunday morning (!) but my cleanse is not what I’m thinking most about. Rather…
I finished The Stranger this morning over tea at The Tea House on Canyon Road.
What a thrill to finish a book! I am the queen of starting several and plodding partway through them all….
Though I suppose I should give myself a little more credit than that. I DID read The Story of Edgar Sawtelle over the winter break. That was a book that left me staring at the ceiling wondering…wondering….wondering…. What was the motivation of the characters precisely? I get that there’s a strong thematic allusion to Hamlet…but beyond that? I was left with why why why…. While simultaneously marveling at the skill with which Wroblewski crafted his sentences.
But enough of that. The Stranger! Yes, what a book. It left me pondering what it means to live life with intention.
The writing took my breath away, especially here:
Then everything began to reel before my eyes, a fiery gust came from the sea, while the sky cracked in two, from end to end, and a great sheet of flame poured down through the rift. Every nerve in my body was a steel spring, and my grip closed on the revolver. The trigger gave, and the smooth underbelly of the butt jogged my palm. And so, with that crisp, whipcrack sound, it all began. I shook off my sweat and the clinging veil of light. I knew I’d shattered the balance of the day, the spacious calm of this beach on which I’d been happy. But I fired four more shots into the inert body, on which they left no visible trace. And each successive shot was another loud, fateful rap on the door of my undoing.
Wow.
Up next, an unassuming little book called The Facts About Shakespeare:
I read over the first page and so far so good…but had to laugh, cause I’m a bit of a dork like that, when I came to this line, written in context of the times in which Shakespeare lived (a time of great change….):
The names that crowd the next fifty years represent fine native endowments, boundless aspiration, and also novelty–as Spenser in poetry, Bacon in philosophy, Hooker in theology.
Heh heh…
Time to pick up the littles from school.
These petite pink lady apples were breakfast today.
This morning dawned surprisingly chaos free. I awoke before my alarm and wasn’t sleepy at all. Graysen opened his eyes and reached for me in the dark–he often shows up for a cuddle in the wee hours of the morning.
The two of us went out to the living room to set a fire and think about the return to school. The sky was still pitch black, and the breadmaker had just finished up a loaf of country white…the smell of fresh bread settled over me as I lit a few pages of the Free Press beneath some lovely split pinon.
Then it was time to rouse the kids and make lunches. I sliced up some fresh bread and made each of the kids cucumber cream cheese open-face sandwiches with dill and celery salt for their lunches. For me, I brewed some “fasting” herbal tea and didn’t once look at the coffee maker.
As the fire jumped and the Indigo Girls sang to the room, the kids got dressed and ready and we were (shockingly) out the door by 7:44. I even had a few extra moments to shoot some stuff for my photo blog.
Everything went smoothly with the drop offs, though I did feel a little fuzzy-headed due to not having coffee (first coffee-free morning since probably 2006 when I had hip surgery!).
Then, some weird funk descended and threw me into a painful slog through weirdness. The sky was a perfectly crisp blue, the air, biting and cold…and I suddenly felt really down. Almost depressed.
The plan for the day was to buy some provisions for my cleanse (fruit, veggies, juice and soup for the first two days of “step up” and lemons and maple syrup for the 10-day “Master Cleanse”) then go do a newborn photo shoot for a lovely family I worked with before Christmas (maternity and family shoot). I worked my way in a haze around the store, plucking organic lemons from the meager selection and puzzling over which fruit juice would be most beneficial (chose cherry for the iron).
As I was checking out I overheard a young mother behind me talking with another woman about how her two little kids were driving her crazy. Her toddler beamed at me from the shopping cart…another older toddler was apparently at home. She was remarking about how only one sleeps at a time, while the other woman was nodding and smiling and saying to enjoy it now, it goes by so quickly!
And I smiled to myself, wrote my check, and left. I love babies….toddlers…children. I love ‘em to pieces and am always delighted to be smiled at by a baby in a shopping cart.
But how well I remember those days of one sleeping, the other not, and me slowly going crazy. Crazy in a good way but crazy nonetheless. I adore that the kids and I had two solid weeks together to do nothing…so novel, especially in this fast-paced day and age. But I am also glad to have my own space back. Glad as well not to have two toddlers underfoot anymore.
It does go by quickly.
I walked out into the stark sunlight, settled myself into the car to read and sip my Odwalla for a little bit before my photo shoot and… promptly spilled half my 32 oz. Superfood all over my leg and the floor of the car.
I was drenched. The floorboards were swimming in green liquid.
The moment it happened, and I grabbed the bottle of juice and pulled it upright, I could do nothing else but laugh.
I laughed….at myself, at the moment…at the silliness of putting the open bottle of juice on the car’s center console, which is slightly sloped. When I first set it there I had a flashing thought of what would happen if it fell. Moments later, I knew firsthand.
I wondered if anyone saw me drain the rubber floor mat onto the parking lot pavement. What they would think of the odd green liquid.
Then I stopped caring. I tried drying my pants with toilet paper–all that I could find. Pathetic. Finally, I called the family I was supposed to photograph in less than a half hour and asked to push off our shoot until the following day. They seemed relieved too. With a newborn and very very active two-year-old, their lives are a bit hectic, lately.
I drove home relieved, annoyed, bemused. Changed my clothes, brewed some tea, contemplated my veggie diet for the day.
And then watched District Nine… which I really didn’t need to watch today. When it was over I decided it was time for a mental cleanse too….and a nap.
Tomorrow, only juices and broth. Mmmm….
Winter break has drawn to a close. Gone are the endless stretch of days to explore cookie making, decorating, Wii playing, and boredom. Gone are the days of rising at 10 am to leisurely sip hot cups of coffee or cocoa. Gone are the days with nothing terribly important to do.
The homework grind kicked in this evening with Mira’s assignment to write a short story of her family’s immigration to this country. She tackled the tale of her great-grandfather, who came to America from Burma in 1920. I wrote up his journey for the Colgate Scene several years ago, and was delighted to now share it with this newest generation.
The getting-ready-for-a-trip grind also kicked in today, as Chris darted about dealing with laundry and various other tasks to prepare for his 6 am departure, tomorrow morning, for Washington State. Nobody is looking forward to his absence, least of all him. Having him home for three weeks straight has been rejuvenating.
But the world calls.
We talked about the break over a lovely lasagna dinner I whipped up tonight (see recipe below). As I sat down to a plate heaped with lasagna, spinach salad with grape tomatoes and balsamic vinegar, and a steamy slice of sourdough garlic bread with melty cheese…I said something about how it all felt like the Last Supper or something. At least it does for me. Eschewing food starting tomorrow will be no small feat but I am ready and I am excited.
Still, it will be hard serving dinner to my ravenous brood on those food-free-for-me nights. Those who follow my daily missives can now look forward to much rambling about all my favorite foods in the world…perhaps written as lists….perhaps with weird little memories attached. I might even write up a bunch of recipes. As long as I don’t drool on the keyboard and short it out….
In the meantime, enjoy the lasagna. It’s time for me to bed down with The Stranger, which is so far thoroughly enjoyable. I’m almost halfway through it. Following that…I look forward to reading The Facts About Shakespeare.
Hasta manana.
Easy Lasagna
1 1/2 cups water
2 jars pasta sauce (15 1/2 oz. ea.)
1 box lasagna noodles (16 oz.)
1 container ricotta cheese (15 oz.)
8 oz. mozzarella, thinly sliced or shredded
1/2 cup grated Parmesan
Combine water and pasta sauce in bowl. Stir.
Cover bottom of 13×9x2 inch baking dish with 1 1/2 cups sauce.
Arrange layer of uncooked noodles, slightly overlapping, on top of sauce.
Spread half ricotta, half mozzarella, and 2T Parmesan over noodles.
Add another layer of sauce, another layer of noodles, another layer of cheeses, and a last layer of noodles.
Pour remaining sauce over noodles and top with remaining Parmesan.
BAKE covered with tin foil for 1 hour at 350, or until the noodles are al dente.
Of course, you can vary this. I added turkey sausage…and then broiled the finished lasagna with a bunch more mozzarella on top. Yum! Add veggies, garlic cloves, meat, whatever your heart desires to this super easy lasagna. It’s tres delish!
