bubbly girl meets physicist: starts a family

i [heart] my orchid

2012-02-16T11:57:00.000-08:00

My husband surprised me this past weekend and bought me a digital single lens reflex camera (DSLR). I own a film SLR but haven't used it in almost 5 years. It became difficult to spend money on film developing when I could use our point and shoot digital camera without those same tremendous costs. My film SLR has been collecting dust in the cabinet while I've gone on, pining for a DSLR.

I'm still amazed that I own such a camera, but, I figure I might as well get some photos taken before the dream fades away, right? So, today while all the kids were upstairs for 20 minutes in their respective rooms, I grabbed the camera and my favorite flower for a little photo shoot. My ode to the orchid. :)

Aren't those zig zags crazy? I just love the interesting patterns that God creates in nature!

Cheesecake Tart

2012-02-06T18:10:00.000-08:00

My sweet-tooth was at it again over the weekend and I concocted another dessert worth sharing. Here's the recipe should you feel like trying it yourself. It's basically just a shortened cheesecake. The benefits? Won't sit in your stomach like a full piece of cheesecake, but still as delicious and beautiful. :)

Cheesecake Tart:

Pastry:

1 1/4c. flour
1/4c. sugar
1/2c. cold butter
2 beaten egg yolks
1 TBS cold water

1) Stir together flour and sugar. With a pastry blender, add cold butter until pieces are pea-sized.

2) In another bowl, mix egg yolks and water. Gradually add egg mixture to flour mixture.

3) Gently knead the dough until a ball forms. Then, cover the dough and refrigerate it for 30-60 minutes.

4) Roll out dough and carefully (without stretching) move pastry to tart pan.

Cheesecake Filling:

2 1/2 packages (20 oz) cream cheese, softened
1/2 c. sugar
1 tsp. vanilla
2 eggs

1) Mix cream cheese, sugar and vanilla with electric mixer on medium speed until well blended.

2) Add eggs, one at a time. Mix until just blended. Pour over tart pastry.

Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes or until center is almost set. Cool. Refrigerate 3 hours or overnight.

For a phenomenal look and taste, serve with strawberries and drizzle with chocolate raspberry sauce. (MMMMM!)

Thomas the Train Preschool Valentine's Box

2012-02-04T17:48:00.000-08:00

My older son came home with a note from his teachers last week asking us to find a box for our child's Valentine's cards. It was pretty ambiguous as to whether we were supposed to not only find the box but also DECORATE the box.... guess that part didn't matter? I did think it mattered, since the difference between an ugly brown shoe box and a decorated brown shoe box is embarrassment worthy. So, I walked into his preschool drop off yesterday fully intending to solve this dilemma. When I arrived, I saw the teacher showing the students a [fully decorated] box that another child had already completed and brought in. Guess that answered that question.

Glad that I didn't send that brown box into school with my son. This morning, I set him to work decorating. But, as is the case with everything these days, he wanted the box to look like Thomas the Tank Engine. This is always a frustrating situation, because he can't make Thomas himself. Yet, nothing less than a recognizable copy of Thomas would suffice. And so, despite what possible disappointment might come from his teachers (who presumably wanted the CHILD to do most of the work in this project), I set to work.

To be honest, we don't even have construction paper in the house. I dared not go to Walmart, though, the Saturday before the Super Bowl unless absolutely necessary. So, the more expensive cardstock I had on hand for scrapbooking would do. It made me cringe slightly to see it Elmers-glued onto a brown shoe box by a 4 year old who doesn't even realize what textured cardstock is....but, just add it to the long list of hardships parents endure on behalf of loving their kids....

As with any project like this, there were problems. Nothing major, at least, nothing major to me. My son was dead set on wheels that could move, and so we went through the time-consuming work of making axels, carving holes, and measuring the wheels space. Of course, I'm not engineer, and so when we finally attached the wheels, I realized they were too high up on the box to actually be used correctly. My son was not understanding. Obviously, I needed to take it apart and make it right. Um, no. It took me over an hour just to make them the wrong way, I'm not about to spend that much time doing it over again, just for a preschool Valentine's box. He was not happy.

He got over it, though, as the project took more shape and Thomas got his face. It's amazing what putting a face on a train does for a boy... Something I will never understand. Oh, and the number one, of course. That was a necessary finishing touch. It's certainly not perfect (as I'm sure my son would explain to you all the flaws), but at least it's good enough. I just hope it can keep its shape long enough to be used for its purpose--holding everyone's Valentine's card come February 14th.... Only time will tell!

We cut out a hole to put the cards in!

The Boots....At Last!

2012-02-03T10:37:00.000-08:00

I set out to start crocheting about a month ago. In a short period of time, it took over my thoughts and free time. Actually, it took over a lot of my not-so-free-time too. The dishes, the laundry, the grocery shopping, and even the children, were at times ignored so that I could pursue the craft. The past week and a half in particular was overrun with crocheting. Working that needle in and out, and in and out, only to undo hours of work because I hadn't done things just right. I wouldn't necessarily recommend doing a somewhat tricky project with no instructions after only learning the art recently, but this is a case of do-what-I-say-not-what-I-do.

I am happy to report that my crocheted boots are [mostly] finished.... at last! I say mostly because it is my utmost desire to put a rubber sole on these so that I can wear them outside "around town." Of course, the secrets of soling shoes seem to be well-guarded and thus I have had an extremely difficult time trying to figure out how to do such a thing, and in particular, where to procure the products. But, as of about an hour ago, I think I have some promising leads in that area. I hope they will be soled within the week. In the meantime, I guess I will just have to sit and pine over my awesome boots. I don't want to wear them, since I'd like to keep the crocheted soles as dirt-free as possible to prepare them for rubber soling. Yet, after about 30 hours (!!!!) of work, I long to enjoy the fruits of my labor....

So, here are some glimpses of my effort. And for those of you who don't do any needle crafts, please, please, don't think I have done anything amazing here. If you want amazing, look here: http://osbornfiber.com/. Now that is amazing work. What I have done here is clumsily crochet my way through something that for experts, would probably have taken less than a day to complete. I like to think that once I'm more proficient, it will take me 1/3 of the time. We'll see.

Today I'll be spraying the boots with a couple coats of water repellent made especially for fabric, again, so that they will be fit for outdoor use. Let's hope all goes well. And after that, it will just be waiting until I can get my longed-for rubber soling sheets..... oh the anticipation is killing me!

Chocolate Andes Mint Mousse

2012-01-26T16:41:00.000-08:00

At last! Another blog post! I sure have missed posting over the past months. Life got crazy there for a while, but hopefully some calm has come.

It's a good sign that at least some calm has returned that I have been back in the kitchen daily cooking up delicious dinners and desserts. The desserts, in particular, have been on the rise lately--and my taste buds have definitely been loving it.

Here's a new one that I came up with that is light, yet tasteful and superb. (And when I say "light" here, I'm talking about texture, not calories.... though, I suppose you could do some substituting to get it down to a more low-calorie delight.)

Chocolate Andes Mint Mousse

*This mousse would work wonderfully as a layer to a trifle or as a filling to a pie*

1 cup Andes mints candies, chopped + more to garnish
6 eggs, separated
1 1/2 cup heavy cream
2 TBS sugar
1 tsp. peppermint extract

1) Using a double boiler on the stove, melt the Andes mints and 6 egg yolks. (Make sure the yolks get frothy to be considered "cooked".) When finished, place bowl in cold water to cool while you prepare other ingredients.

2) Using an electric mixer, beat egg whites until stiff peaks have formed. Put into another bowl.

3) Using electric mixer, beat heavy cream, sugar and peppermint extract until thick.

4) Fold the egg whites and then heavy cream into the chocolate mixture in small batches, working carefully.

5) Once mixed, pour the batter into desired dish. If you are making a pie, pour 3/4 of the batter into the pie (tastes especially delicious on a chocolate cookie crust) and freeze for at least 2 hours--use left over batter to decorate the pie. If you are making a trifle, simple place batter in fridge and use when needed in your trifle layers. Garnish with more chopped Andes mints.

When I made this mousse, I put it in a pie crust but only put it in the fridge. It did not hold its shape well, so decorating it was something of a disaster. I think the freezer method should (should!) work out a whole lot better. That being said, it was amazingly DELICIOUS and so I had to pass it on for all of you to try. :) Happy eating!

Heat is Work and Work is Heat

2011-12-17T15:49:00.000-08:00

Oh, my son.... he's four years old now and loves to talk in jibberish just for the fun of it. Of course, it's always pieces of truth that he's heard elsewhere that he strings together to make nonsense.

Tonight, at the dinner table, to the end of a string of randomness, he adds, "heat is work and work is heat." Oh dear, I thought. This is what happens when my son sits and watches you tube videos of physics with my physicist husband...

And so, my son and husband sat at the table singing "heat is work and work is heat"--a song that my son is still, half an hour later, singing by himself now as he finishes his dessert. Great. Well, at least he'll have some fundamental science down before he heads to Kindergarten in another year. Just enough to amaze his teacher and confuse his classmates.

For those of you who would love a little physics running through your head in the form of a catchy jingle, have at it. Hope you enjoy it as much as the men in my house. :)

(Feel free to only listen to the soundtrack here--the video is not that important, only the song... :-P )

Something fun for our first day of snow!

2011-11-29T13:28:00.001-08:00

Here is a little project we set out to do on this wet and snowy day....

LET IT SNOW! :D

Sleep Deprivation

2011-09-23T18:10:00.000-07:00

Hand-in-hand with a newborn come frequent diaper changes, regular feedings, tiny cries, and, the real kicker, sleep deprivation. With your first child, the sleep disruption comes as a shock more than anything else. No matter how much someone tells you about it, you're still not prepared for the ever-interrupted REM sleep. With subsequent children, you're more mentally prepared, and the focus becomes how on Earth do I cope with this loss of sleep while caring for (insert # of children here) children.

Not only is the lack of sleep difficult, but I find myself struggling with one of life's most basic functions when I'm lacking my normal slumber: social pleasantries. I just can't seem to hold regular conversation or act as a person usually would. I keep talking when someone else is trying to get a word in. I don't answer when someone asks a question. I ignore people I know just because I can't think of something to say to them. I stare into space when people are talking to me--not hearing a word their saying.

Of course, when the person finally recognizes my failure as a receptive listener or conversationalist, they bid me adieu. During this time, I take the opportunity to profusely apologize for my lack of social skills and promptly blame it on my newborn bundle. I'm not sure that this is always a good enough excuse, but it's my excuse nonetheless.

And so, in proving my point, I'm now finished this post. I've said something. I've now awkwardly ended, probably a little too soon, and now I'm off to care for a newborn between sleeping spells....

Bug Time Again!

2011-08-17T18:21:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we had the opportunity to watch a cicada emerging from its shell. While taking a stroll on the nearby college campus, my son excitedly told me he saw a cicada shell walking. I turned to tell him that this, of course, couldn't be the case, when I realized that he was indeed seeing a living cicada within its shell. It was an eerie sight--it looked very dead and yet very alive at the same time. We took it to Daddy's office to get an explanation of what exactly what going on. Turns out, we found this baby cicada just in time to see it breaking from its skeleton! Here's a little photo journey of the exciting process...

Breaking Free

My husband was very concerned that left in that position, on the bottom of the container, the cicada's wings would not properly form. So, he helped it out onto the porch rail so it would have more space to grow...

See the little wings it has to start!

Watching the wings puff out and form was an amazing process. See here as they continue to expand.

Hard to believe that large bug came out of that SMALL shell!

It took over an hour, but he was finally free and his color started darkening. (I have no idea if it's a he or she, really, so don't take that comment as truth in regards to gender.)

And that's the last I saw of it before my one year old daughter brushed him away with a stick into the grass below! He was too camouflaged to be found thereafter.

17 months or 17 years??

2011-08-14T05:08:00.000-07:00

My daughter is almost 17 months old, but sometimes it seems like she's 17 years old instead. I don't know where she gets these ideas, but let me give you an example:

"Oh, hey friend! Yep, I'm just about to do my workout. Sure, we can still talk,

just let me get set up here..."

"Let me just put you on speaker phone so I can hear you better."

"Is it working? Can you hear me okay?"

"Oh, yeah, this is just my morning routine--gotta get my exercise in, ya know?"

"I'll go ahead and start with the leg-lifts...."

"...Then on to the push ups....Umm, there's some guy over there totally watching me. This is weird."

"Uh, you know, I think I'm going to have to do this later..."

"Oh, no problem--we can still keep talking...go on, what were you saying?"

Because you asked for it: Homemade pie crust

2011-07-28T18:18:00.000-07:00

I've had so many requests for my pie crust recipe that I thought it about time to blog my methods. I've gone back and forth about posting my techniques, since, really, I am no professional. What I do, I do because it works for me, not because there's any reason for it. It's possible that some of the things I do are even no-nos in the baking world. I certainly haven't had any culinary classes to know any better one way or the other. All that I know is that my pie crust is consistently delicious; I won't be buying any pre-made crusts from the store in the near future, for sure. So, without further ado, here it is, my recipe for a double-crust pastry!

Ingredients:
2 1/4 c. all-purpose flour
3/4 tsp. salt
2/3 c. COLD butter
8-10 TBS cold water

1) First mix the flour and salt together. Then, cut in the butter with a pastry blender small chunks at a time. (If you don't have one of these, two knives work just as well, it merely takes more effort!) Continue until mixture consists of crumbs no larger than a pea.

2) Then, add water a tablespoon at a time, tossing with fork or knife after each addition. I do this by eye; I no longer measure the water amount. I continue adding water until the mixture looks completely moistened (NOT WET).

3) You should be able to form a large ball with the crumbs. Be careful not to spend much time making the ball! The more you play with the dough, the less delicious and flaky it will ultimately be. If it's still too crumbly, add more water. (But again, be careful not to add too much.) At this point, separate the large ball into half and place one half on a piece of wax paper with a dusting of flour.

4) Now, this step is not crucial to the crust, it is merely my way of making the process less anxiety-ridden. It's very stressful when the crust gets stuck to things and you can't easily move it to the pan. I have developed this method so as to keep the process as stick-free as possible.

I lay another piece of wax over the dough and roll it. After the first couple of rolls, I pick up the piece of wax, sprinkle a little more flour, and turn it over to the other side to do the same. This seems to prevent the dough from sticking and makes it easy for me to ultimately move it from the counter to the pan with little effort.

(If at any point, it seems like the dough is sticking to the wax, simply lift it and sprinkle a bit more flour.)

5) When you are finished rolling out the dough, simply lift off the top layer of wax paper and then slide your hand under the bottom piece of wax paper. Flip the dough onto the bottom of the pan. (Sorry for the bad quality of these pictures; I was attempting to photograph the process myself which was difficult since both my hands were occupied... :) )

6) For your second crust, simply repeat steps 3-5, though you may want to make the circle a bit larger this time. Lay the crust on top of the filled pie.

7) Pull off any extra dough to leave only about one inch extra around the entire pan. Fold this under itself to create a nice clean look on the top.

8) Next, you want to put on the finishing touches. Beautify the edges however you'd like (pinching in one finger is my standard method, as shown here.) Make a few cuts on the top of the pie to let steam escape (you can always get creative here in your designs....). And then finish it off with a sprinkle of sugar for good looks and added "yum!"

And you're done! Simply put it in the oven and follow the baking directions for the pie. Remember to put foil on the edges of the crust to keep them from browning too soon. (But be forewarned, sometimes this is tricky!) You'll be glad you took the time to make homemade crust in the end...!

Goodbye, Hairy Guest

2011-07-17T18:14:00.000-07:00

My husband and I came downstairs the other day to find that the spider had completed an egg sac. This is something she attempted about two weeks ago, but for whatever reason she failed to do correctly. Here's a picture of her half-built egg sac and what seems to be her eggs (the yellow liquid) on the bottom of the glass.

In some ways I was disappointed that her attempt had failed. Finally, I thought, this made the decision of what to do with her more clear. My husband could absolutely not keep the spider if she was about to lay another hundred replicas of herself. She had to be taken away--far, far away. But alas, she never completed the sac and we deduced that the yellow liquid must have been her eggs...

Yet, as I mentioned, just days ago we found she had built another sac. This time, she completed it. And there was no yellow liquid to be seen. I was once again feeling comforted that her future had become more clear.

My husband, on the other hand, was not as comforted. Over the past two weeks since her failed attempt to build a sac, my husband spent various hours building a beautiful home for her. He found a large glass container and outfitted it with dirt, rocks, sticks, and even a bathing pool. Why a pool you ask? Because he had also spent a similar amount of time on the computer researching just what this spider would enjoy in her habitat. And, as he researched, he found that she was most likely a fishing spider, still under the larger category of nursery web spider. A spider who would enjoy a nice pool.

I can't say I wasn't a little jealous--I wish he spent that much time worrying that our home was as beautiful or well-equipped for our creature comforts. But, that's besides the point. The point is, she was, as far as anyone could tell, comfortable in her new terrarium. Comfortable enough, it seems, to make a second attempt at building an egg sac, and comfortable enough to succeed in that attempt.

The egg sac is amazing. It is so beautifully round and the colors are almost speckled. Despite my disgust at the thought of one hundred more spiders growing inside it, I am in awe at the sight of it. Some interesting facts: the spider will not eat until the eggs have hatched (she's too busy guarding her kin), and it will take upwards of two weeks until the baby spiders come out. And in that time, my husband was tasked with finding a new home for the soon-to-be family.

Shock. Pain. Acceptance. Stages of grief... even now applicable. My poor husband couldn't bear to see his precious pet go.

But he is a good husband. A sacrificing husband. An understanding husband. And ultimately, he loosened his grip and let go... We took a walk to the campus lake and he let her free, by the water, a suitable habitat for such a creature. She was a long-standing presence in our home, and so it seemed fitting to spend a moment on a farewell. She didn't scamper quickly away as I expected. My husband had placed her on a rock, and there she stayed. Even as we walked away, she sat. Still. Perhaps wondering what to do next? She probably had lived her whole life in our basement. I hope the big wide world of nature wasn't too much for her.

Goodbye, our large hairy guest. I wish you well in your new life.... far from mine.

*I made my husband pose for these pictures....just in case you wanted to know. :-P

Computer Theft

2011-07-08T11:19:00.000-07:00

Or at least, that's what it feels like. Back in the day--that is, back in the time of the academic school year--I had the computer all to myself in the evenings. The kids would be in bed asleep, my husband would be working on his own laptop on the couch, and I would be happily typing away. Those were the good ol' days.

Then came summer break.

In the past, I used to long for my husband to work less; he always seemed to be doing so much more than the other professors I knew. And now that I have my wish, I long for him to be working again in the evenings so that I can have my computer time back. It's great getting to see him more during the day, but I'm in internal despair in the evenings as I sit on the couch watching him play computer games. It should be me, sitting there in front of that screen, a mouse click away from writing a blog, checking my email, or browsing the new children's clothing sales....

Suddenly, a lot more is getting done in the evenings. I find myself trying to fill that computerless space with laundry or dishes. I supposed the house is all that much better for it. I can't say the same for my attitude. Sometimes I sit on the couch, five feet behind him, and glare into the back of his head, wishing I could secretly form thoughts in his mind like, "oh, hmmm, I will stop playing computer games now and let my lovely wife use the computer since she's been busy taking care of kids all day...." Or, perhaps a compromise, "I think I will go get my laptop from my office so that both my darling wife and I can use a computer simultaneously in the evenings....."

Judging from the results of these attempts, I am clearly not capable of this kind of telepathy. And so I merely find more chores to do or simply fall asleep on the couch. The latter is really not that bad, since I'm exhausted anyway. But I'd really rather be goofing around on the computer than sleeping.

I still have over a month, though, until summer break is over. In the meantime, I guess I'll just have to get used to my computerless evenings. I suppose I can spend this time relishing the increased cleanliness of my home. Besides, by the time I get the computer time back, there will also be another new baby in the house. Who knows what the state of my computer availability or house cleanliness will be at that point anyway. All to shambles I presume.

Cool Treats!

2011-06-30T17:37:00.000-07:00

Any woman who has ever given birth knows that pregnancy can be tough. Any woman who has ever been in her third trimester in the middle of summer knows that the heat doesn't make anything easier.

And then enters: frozen treats!

Mmmmmm, how a cool treat can change the mood. I learned with my first pregnancy that there are lots of things that you can freeze including doughnuts, chocolate, and (my absolute favorite) grapes. A good friend of mine offered up this information to me and I have never forgotten it. I still love to get grapes in the summer, wash them, dry them, and put them in a bag in the freezer for later. They are just about the best frozen treat out there. And perfectly bite size!

But, aside from frozen grapes, there are also popsicles. And I decided that this year, we'd have fun making some of our own. We started out with a watermelon, pureed it, and then added a little apple juice. The apple juice and watermelon separated and created a super cool effect on the pops. Check out the picture above! The top orange part is the juice, while the bottom pink is the watermelon. The process was ridiculously simple and I encourage you all to try! Make some healthy homemade popsicles this summer--you can enjoy the process as much as the product!!

Step 1: Puree fruit

Step 2: Add anything else you'd like (more fruit, juice, sugar, etc.); blend again if needed.

Step 3: Freeze

Step 4: Eat and enjoy!!

Our Pet Spider

2011-06-21T19:41:00.000-07:00

Nursery Web Spider with its prey (a moth in its mouth)

Or at least, we think it's a nursery web spider!

I know I've posted before on this blog about finding large spiders in our basement. I've also written about the difficulty of the decisions to be made when my husband catches one: do I tell him to get rid of it, or do we keep it around to kill the other bugs downstairs? And when considering "other bugs," I would think of these being primarily other smaller spiders, or, centipedes. I do hate centipedes so much more than spiders.

Thus far, my decision has always been to get rid of the large spider and suffer whatever the consequences may be.

And now the question is raised once more, this time with the biggest spider yet. And the question seems to be lingering. As I struggle to decide, my husband is happily catching daily prey for this hairy arachnid and watching it feast. I must say, the longer we have it, the less monstrous it seems. I'm truly unsure: do we keep it and put it back in the basement--hoping that, yes, it was the limiting factor to the centipede population this season, or, do we set it free far, far from our home to feast on other large insects in the neighborhood? I suppose I am more unsure this time because I have actually seen what it eats. And yes, I believe it is very possible that this spider, on its own, could have been capturing every centipede in our basement and chowing down on all of their many, many legs for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Oh, the dilemmas. And so it comes to you, my dear readers, to offer me some insight. I thought it might be helpful to me to see what you thought you might do in my situation....

**this was a free polling website and seems to have a nice spam ad at the top (something like "congratulations!" etc.--please make sure you don't click on it and ruin your computer somehow. :) )

Jumping on the Bandwagon: Artisan bread in five minutes a day

2011-06-18T18:44:00.000-07:00

I love bread. When I want comfort food, I can rarely think of anything better than some delicious bread with warm butter smoothed over it...mmmmmmm. My mother-in-law obviously knows me well because for my birthday she bought me a cookbook titled Healthy Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day. I'd heard of the "artisan bread in five minutes a day" concept and was intrigued. I never got the book, though, out of shear fear of having to learn something new. Now that I had a book in hand, given as a gift, I felt I had no choice but to at least try it.

I was right, there was certainly learning involved. I spent half an hour or more just reading the first chapter one day trying to distinguish the key features of this newfangled bread-baking technique. I've made quite a few yeast breads in my time and was feeling pretty confident that I understood the basics. Now I had to throw out all that knowledge and replace it with new methods. Eek! It was like being back in school again trying to desperately pay attention to the teacher so I would know how to do everything right.

Finally after much worry, and some new purchases, I was ready. I had to buy some things I generally didn't have on hand, like unbleached flour and vital wheat gluten, but they certainly didn't break the bank. On mixing day, I did everything according to the instructions and hoped. I fought my desire to make the dough a smooth and elastic consistency. I reminded myself again and again NOT to knead it at any point in time and to touch it at little as possible. Today, I got to see how well I followed the directions....

DELICIOUS! Absolutely delicious. The whole family loved it and gobbled up every crumb. I made a small loaf since I was unsure of the whole thing, but I know tomorrow I'll be baking more and I will make at least double. The dough was quite wet when I mixed it yesterday, but I left it because of my fear of adding too much flour. Today I decided that it was WAY too sticky and I definitely should have added a little bit more. I could barely form it today (or cut lines in the dough as instructed), and even after being baked it still had a little stick to it. Lesson learned for the next batch.

Here are some pictures of the process:

Day 1

Day 2

The finished product was like nothing I had ever made before. The crust was tough, just like you want in an artisan bread, and the inside looked like that beautiful combination of bubbles and crumb--a loaf worth paying money for at the store.

I'm so thankful to have gotten the push to try artisan bread in five minutes a day. I can't wait to keep practicing. And I know my family will appreciate all of the yummy bread I to bring to the table. Having said that, here are a couple of my thoughts after trying it for the first time....

Traditional method vs. Five-minutes-a-day

- It was in the 80s today and that's already pretty hot for a woman who's 7 months pregnant. The fact that I had to bake the bread at 450 degrees did not put me in a particularly cheery mood. The kitchen was hot, hot, hot.

-On top of that, whenever my oven is over 400 degrees, the smoke alarm (that was tormentingly put just outside my small kitchen by my landlord) goes off. It's very, very loud. And always makes me very, very irritated. Grrr.

-Like I said before, for my first try, I wasn't quite sure what the consistency was supposed to be. I found it extremely hard to handle (and the writers pushed hard against adding more flour once made). I feel a little like I'm an old dog learning a new trick.... I think it's going to take a little time to get it just right.

-Also, because this dough doesn't work like a traditional dough, it was very hard for me to tell what size it would be once it was done baking. Again, I imagine this is something that I will learn over time. I hadn't intended to make quite such a small loaf today, but, oh well. Now I know for next time.

-And lastly, on a good note, WOW! This bread takes so much less active time than traditional dough. It makes me feel like it might truly be possible to have healthy, delicious, homemade bread in our house more often than just once a month. What a thought!

Now it's time for you to try. :-) (Or, if you've already tried it out, tell me what you think!!!)

My son, the friendly neighbor

2011-06-03T18:09:00.000-07:00

First of all, let me apologize for going so long without a post. Something strange was happening to Blogger every time I tried to log on last week. Not able to log in=not able to post. Very sad indeed. So, here at last is the post that was supposed to be for last week!

My son is three and a half. He's about average three-year-old height with big eyes and chubby cheeks. He recently got a summer hair cut which displays well the cowlick that sits at the tip of his forehead. And while he's a handful, he's often smiling. Especially at neighbors.

The weather has been great lately, and so we've been taking advantage of it by spending time outside. Sometimes, though, when I'm busy with indoor tasks, my son hangs out on the porch enjoying the weather. I tell him that when I'm not out there with him, he must stay on the porch. This never prevents him from having conversations with people across the street, though. I'll hear him yelling to the neighbor, "Eleanore, Eleanore! Hi, Eleanore!! What are you doing over there? I'm just sitting here! Hi, Eleanore! How are you, Eleanore?!"

It is a little embarrassing that my son can probably be heard a block down yelling to the neighbors. But, hey, I love that he enjoys chatting with the community and letting them know we care about them. I'm not sure how I feel, though, when he talks with people that are complete strangers to me. I suppose to him, there's no difference between one person or another when they're walking by our house. They're all "neighbors," right?

Over the past couple of weeks, more than once I've looked out the window to see my son chatting with a young adult that I have never seen before. We live very close to a college campus, so presumably these are students of the college, though I don't really know for sure. All I know is that my son is a social butterfly who can't let someone pass by without a little chat. I've seen him, yelling to people across the street, "Hello there!! Hi!! Who are you? What's your name?!" And at least twice now, I have seen these people stop, look at my child, and proceed to cross the road merely to answer his question. Yes, I am being completely honest.

Just yesterday a young woman was walking a dog on the other side of the street and my son called out to her. Next thing I know, from my watch inside, I see her cross the road and come into my front yard. My son was just exuberant. He kept a conversation going with her for at least a good ten minutes before I heard her say, "You better get back inside before your mom gets worried." To which he replied, "Oh, okay. I like your shirt, though." Ah, a three-year-old with a diversion plan! He already knows that talking about a girl's clothes with keep the conversation going longer. Where does he learn this stuff, anyway?

I'm torn between the feelings of humor and concern when I see these encounters take place. I'm terrified that something might happen to my son in presenting himself to strangers in this way. Yet, on the other hand, his excitement and ability to converse with these adults makes me smile like nothing else. I sure don't know any other three-year-olds who are so welcoming and loquacious! It's such a delight watching my son, the friendly neighbor. I wonder if he'll still be like this when he's older!

Garage Sailing

2011-05-25T18:29:00.000-07:00

Where I grew up, garage sales were a once-in-a-while kind of thing. Both for the person holding the sale and for the one dropping by. Generally, the people we knew had enough space to keep all the junk they wanted, in whatever barn they wanted, for as long as they wanted. And besides, if you had the desire to get rid of your stuff, you could always give it away to a friend, take it to the dump, or give it to Goodwill.

Where I live now, garage sales are a way of life in the Spring and Summer months. Ads are put in the weekly papers and some sellers even list specifics of what they are selling. Those organized garage sale-goers make a plan ahead of time about which sales to stop at first and in which order. And of course, one must always arrive early--right when the sale starts, or even before.

I've started to think of it as not just garage sale-ing but garage sail-ing. Though I've never been sailing, it seems like one of those activities that would warrant an early wake-up. And then, of course, the boat/sail preparation... and then the actual time, the "adventure" if you will, of the sailing. Going from place to place driven by the wind--or, the best bargain as it were.

I have seen people as excited about garage sales as a person could be about a sailboat. Having not grown up in such a culture, there are times the idea of it all sets me to laughter. And there are other times that I can't help but get caught up in all the adventure. Going from house to house looking for something great, something great AND cheap. Oh how marvelous!

But, garage sale-ing for me is about the same as sailing. I'm not sure I truly have the umph to get out there and do it--too much time, energy, and, well, money. Even at a bargain, spending any money at all is more than staying home and NOT spending money. Though, there are times I can be persuaded to do it. Especially when I'm looking for something in particular and the thought of getting it at a bargain outweighs my laziness to go garage sale hunting for it.

Usually, though, I'm content to stay home and listen to the stories of garage sale adventure from the professionals. I'd much rather hear about the tales of getting a brand new dress, with the tags on, for $5 (haggled down from $8) than go through the trouble of finding that deal myself. I have a good imagination; I can live vicariously through their deals. It's good enough for me.

The Logic of a Man

2011-05-19T07:42:00.000-07:00

Oh my...how differently we think, men and women....

We have been trying to get our three-year-old out of diapers at night the last week or so. This entails keeping him in underwear for bedtime and then making sure he goes to the bathroom as often as needed before he <<finally>> falls asleep. My husband has also been waking our son to take him to the bathroom around midnight, when we're going to bed ourselves.

Last night I was exhausted and headed to be earlier than my husband. I was fast asleep when he came to take our son to the bathroom, and so I was unavailable to take part in the decision-making. This fact is important only because there were decisions to be made. Our son had already peed in his bed.

Now, if I had been awake, my own logical response would have been to change the sheets. We have two sets for that very reason. Take one off, replace it with another, and then put the sleepy child back where he belongs.

Of course, I was not awake, and so my husband was left to do the responding. His own logical mind had another solution: just put the boy on a dry spot on the bed. This, however, was difficult, since most of the bed was wet with pee. The top portion, where ones head usually lays, was dry. So, he placed my son vertically on the bed, curled up, since he obviously was too large to stretch out on such a small space.

In the morning, I wondered if our son was in bed at all. I only saw a bunch of sheets stuffed by the wall at the top of the bed; the rest of the bed was completely empty. Where on Earth was our child? No, my husband assured me, our son was not missing. He was merely on the dry spot of the bed.

Right. And to him that made sense.

Time for Blogging

2011-05-15T07:33:00.000-07:00

People have often asked me where I find the time to blog in the midst of taking care of two small children, working some hours during the week, and being involved in the church and community. I'd like you all to recognize that I am not superwoman, I merely prioritize. And I always prioritize blogging, or anything else more exciting, over housework. I took some pictures just so you could see what I mean:

Exhibit A:
This is our dining room table....

Exhibit B:

This is supposed to be a table for my son to use for his own creative activities.

Exhibit C:
These are toys....all over the floor...much the same as any other "walking" space throughout the first floor of the house.

Lately I've found myself crafting flower clips in my "spare" time, but it's all the same really. When it comes to that time of night after the children are finally in bed, I rarely do what needs to be done. Instead, I do the things that I feel like doing right at that very moment. It's a shame, really. Our house is quite a disaster. I often find myself thinking back on my childhood and the impressions I had of people based on the inside of their houses. I shudder to think of what people think of us. And truly it's all my fault. I would love a clean house, but I just don't seem to have the motivation. I'm much more motivated after a long day to do a craft or watch a movie than I am to wash the dishes or clean the floor....or organize my stuff....or go through the important mail....or fold laundry....or put away said laundry....

I'm sure you get the point.

So, it's Sunday and tomorrow we start the week afresh. Perhaps this week I will spend more time on the need-to-dos instead of the want-to-dos.... Or, perhaps I will just continue doing what I have been doing. Old habits are so hard to break, aren't they?

Please, say it the right way...

2011-05-08T18:34:00.000-07:00

I hail from eastern Pennsylvania and my husband is from northern New Jersey. Though most of our dialect is similar, there are a couple of words that we emphasize differently. And while I might not say aloud that my pronunciation is far superior, I will admit that his leaves me irritated at times.

This morning I was pouring the gooey, rich, sugary substance on my pancakes that I have informed my son is syrup <seer-up>. My husband walked by and mentioned something about the syrup <sir-up> on my plate. My son quickly turned up his head and looked menacingly at his father. He asked me, "Mom--why did Dad just say 'sir-up'? I don't know why he just said that." Not surprisingly, I responded, "Hmmm, that is curious, isn't it? Why would he say that? That is so silly. That's not how we say syrup..."

Ha. I did it. I firmly established in my son's mind the proper pronunciation of the word. My husband came back into the room argumentative (though only playfully of course). Try as he might, he could not persuade my son that there might be another way to pronounce the word properly.

Moments after the disagreement had subsided, my son concernedly looked up at me and said, "People should say seer-up instead of sir-up. And people should say ay-men."

The first part of this comment I could clearly understand based on the recent conversation, the second part perplexed me. Thankfully, my husband quickly came to my aid: "Yes, that's right," he said. "Some people say ah-men and some people say ay-mean, don't they?"

"Yes," my son replied, "and they should all say ay-men."

This is not good. He must have caught on to my feeling of pronunciation superiority. I can already see I have a problem on my hands. I just hope he doesn't correct someone out in public. This could be very embarrassing.....

Fearing Growth

2011-05-01T10:45:00.000-07:00

I bought a little greenhouse with my three year old two weeks ago in an effort to make myself a more well-rounded person. (Side note: I am already quite well-rounded physically, especially being 5+ months pregnant, but this is an effort to bring my character more in line with my body shape.... :-P )

I was never the grower in the family throughout childhood, and a recent trip back home reminded me of this. I decided that I needed to step up to the plate and try to plant some useful greenery.

My son stood alongside me as I dirtied my fingers dropping teeny-tiny basil seeds into our little greenhouse. There were 72 little soil patches, and most we filled with basil. My son had also decided he wanted to plant some nasturtium, so the last six or so pads got to have a nasturtium seed. I put the greenhouse, covered, in the kitchen window and waited.... somewhat hopeful, somewhat fearful.

Three days passed and I started to panic. There were no signs of growth. Surely I'd done something wrong. My husband rolled his eyes and chuckled. He calmly slid the original seed packets from under the greenhouse, since I had kept them for just this very reason, and pointed out that the plants were not expected to germinate for 5-10 days. Oh. Right. No problem.... We'll just see what happens in the next couple of days....

Sure enough, within a couple of days, I started to see green. Within a day or so, every single one of the pads had a green shoot popping out of the brown soil. Success!!

Or is it? The more I looked at the sprouting green, the more fearful I became. Suddenly I was faced with a terrifying dilemma: what now? 72 plants?? Oh my gosh.... what am I going to do with 72 plants?!

Then it set in... I was doomed. I looked at this growth and all I could feel was fear. Surely within weeks I would kill them all. It would have been better if they had never even gotten this far. How on earth will I keep them alive??

The more I think of it, the more I see that this is a great metaphor for certain things in our lives--we fear growth because we know it means change thereafter. And we don't really know how to take those next steps--or where it will lead. At this point, I get chills just looking at my little greenhouse. Every day the shoots are growing and I'm scared to think of what will happen next. Where will I eventually put them? How will I keep them alive? What if I kill them all....?!

I suppose only time will tell. I hope that my little garden metaphor for life can be a reminder to me to calm down and remember the hope I have.... that God, who gave me the strength to get this far, will give me all that I need to continue on and do what He's called me to do. At least, the theory works in life--I'm not sure how exactly that will play out in my garden. We'll see!

"Devil"ed Eggs

2011-04-24T08:30:00.000-07:00

Our family was invited to a friend's house for Easter lunch. We were thrilled at the invitation, and, as a respectful guest, I asked if there was something I could bring to the table.

This is a customary offer, is it not? When invited for a meal, the invitee should always offer to bring a dish. In addition to abiding by custom, though, I also actually love to cook and bake. So, I always enjoy bringing something to a meal. I suppose in truth, however, I'm always hoping that I'll be the one who decides what exactly I will bring. I'm always hoping for a, "sure, you can bring whatever you'd like!" In which case, I generally bring a dessert--because that's what my skill and my taste buds favor.

In this case, I was asked to bring deviled eggs.... at which point I'm thinking: deviled eggs?! You have got to be kidding.... I HATE making deviled eggs!

Deviled Eggs are named appropriately. Because, when I think of the devil himself, characteristics like frustrating, difficult, aggravating, challenging and destroying come to mind. And when I think of deviled eggs, I think of just those same things.

My anger towards the small white and yellow hors devours comes mostly from the act of shelling them. I cannot, no matter how hard I try, seem to get their shells off without tearing much of the insides apart as well. I have tried using a spoon; I have tried running them under water. I have tried letting them sit in the fridge for a day. Nothing works. Most often, I am left with a mess of a white that hardly resembles an egg at all. Sometimes the pieces aren't even whole.

The shame of it all is that I absolutely love the taste of deviled eggs. Again, it reminds me of scenarios with the actual devil--sometimes, looking at someone's life of sin can look pretty appealing. The taste of the egg is so good..... but is it worth the price to get there?

In this instance, I didn't really have a choice. I certainly didn't feel like I could tell the hostess, "no, I will not bring deviled eggs because they will be an absolute disaster." I did, however, warn her that they will not win any awards for beauty. At least I had a Pampered Chef Easy Accent Decorator so that all was not lost. Otherwise, I'm not sure anyone would have even eaten my piles of goo. Although, now that I say that, I don't yet know if the Easy Accent Decorator redeemed my eggs or not.... I still have T minus thirty minutes until I know the true result....

Will anyone even eat my offering?

And for anyone interested in the actual history of the word and concept of the deviled egg--here's a neat site that I found: http://www.deviledeggs.com/why_called_deviled_eggs.html

Wrong Questions?

2011-04-19T20:24:00.000-07:00

Sometimes life can be difficult in a house with a three-year-old-preschooler and an almost-thirty-year-old-physicist. They want to have conversations, and, yet, at times, it seems they just can't get on the same plane... Tonight at the dinner table, I witnessed one such discussion:

Preschooler: Why is the sky the sky?

Physicist: Well, what is the sky....?
The sky is air.

Preschooler: Why?

Physicist: You know, sometimes, "why" is not a good question... it's not a well-formed question, appropriate for the....

At this point, the physicist continues on with reasons as to why the question of "why" is insufficient, while the preschooler rolls his eyes, makes faces, and starts naming words that rhyme with both "sky" and "why."

My poor son. Most Dads probably feel bad that they don't know the answers to the questions their children ask. And then there are the children, like my son, who probably feel bad that their fathers do know the answers--because after about a minute, these children no longer really care.

DIY flower clips

2011-04-13T13:39:00.000-07:00

I recently got my hair cut at a salon in eastern PA. Hanging on a rack opposite the sales desk were a variety of hair decorations. My eyes immediately fell on some hair clips made of large silk flowers with a rhinestone center. They were mesmerizing. I took a pink and zebra print one and placed it in my hair. I loved it! And even better, it was made with an alligator-like clip so that the jaws actually gripped my hair.... I was definitely going to buy it. No, wait, how about I get two?

I was thrilled when I got back to my mom's house to show her what I'd gotten. Over the following days before my trek back to the Midwest, we discussed that I could make them myself. It would be no big task. And I already love to craft. :)

At this point, I've probably made thirty of them. Or at least, I have them 3/4 of the way finished. I couldn't seem to find the alligator clips in any of the numerous stores I tried, so I resorted to buying them online. So, I'll have to wait a few days to get the backs glued on.... in the meantime, here are some instructions so you can make your own if you'd like!

What you'll need:

*Flowers (can be paper, silk, other--you name it!)
*Rhinestones for center if you like (I'd say at least 18mm or larger)
*Clips--you can use the hair clips they sell at any craft store (or Sally's beauty supply), but if you want the ones with jaws, like I did, you may be on a real goose hunt. Here's something like what I bought off Amazon)
*Hot glue/glue gun

Assembly:

1) First take apart the flowers. You will not need the stems, centers, or plastic dividers (these are sometimes placed between layers in the flower petals).

2) Prepare hot glue gun. Glue the flower layers together, one by one. Then, complete the top with a rhinestone.

3) Glue clip onto back.

That's it; you're done!! You didn't know it was that easy, did you?? Now, go ahead, make some of your own! Mix and match the flowers for some fun. And when you're done, put the flowers in your hair, or on a bag, or even around the house just to add a little fun to a room! So many options!

Here are some of my creations:

Before and After Syndrome

2011-04-06T19:17:00.000-07:00

I'd never experienced the Before and After Syndrome frequently until I had children. I am positive that everyone has experienced the Before and After Syndrome in some form at some point in their life. But I think it's true to say that parents are especially prone to experiencing this phenomenon.

Before children: You see an exasperated mother with her toddler and infant at the grocery store. The toddler is whining for a sweet snack. Mother says no. After constant pleading from toddler, mother gives in. You watch, shocked, how could she give in like that? You'd never allow such positive rewards for such negative behavior.... what terrible parenting.

After children: You're exasperated. You've been up half the night with your infant. Your toddler has been beating up on her all morning because he's stuck inside from the winter cold. You're at the grocery store and you're mind is about to pop. Just to quiet the storm, you let your toddler have the treat he's been pleading for, just so you can have at least fifteen minutes of fight-free shopping. One less battle.

I used to have so many great ideals.... like, no eating in the car. Right. And then I gave birth to a son with a genetic disorder that necessitates his eating often. So much for keeping food out of the car--unless I want to make frequent stops on any journey that takes us outside county lines.

It's amazing how strongly we feel about something at one time, and then, in another season of life, feel completely different. It's almost like we become different people. Sometimes it feels like that's really what happens. But I think, honestly, that we're not really changing to such a great extent. We're merely being refined. We see more clearly where our priorities are and what we're willing to give up for them. My sanity is important. So I'm willing to give up a small mother-toddler battle for it. My child's health and safety are crucial, and so I'm willing to give up the cleanliness of my car to keep him out of the hospital.

It is funny, though, to look at the before and afters... to see how changing seasons have brought out certain changes in our outward attitudes and actions. There are times that I'm glad I never wrote a book about all the opinions I used to have. Boy would I be embarrassed to look back on it now...!

Ruffing

2011-03-30T11:49:00.000-07:00

Do you know what ruffing is? Neither did I until a couple of days ago. The first time I heard someone refer to "ruffing" I thought it might be a new term for rough-housing, that is, the action of children (or even sometimes adult) wrestling and playing rough in the house. It seemed very odd to me, though, to think that a man who is very ill with stage 4 cancer would be at his home rough-housing with his family. At least, that was the first context in which I heard the term "ruffing."

I've lived in Indiana for a year and a half now and the language variations between here and my eastern Pennsylvania hometown are becoming less noticeable. I don't think twice when someone offers my son a "sucker," nor am I as shocked when someone says the "floor needs swept." The term "ruffing," however, took me by surprise.

After many moments of puzzlement, I finally realized that "ruffing" was the term used to describe fixing the roof of a house....you know, "ROOFing....." Ruff, roof, what's the big difference, right? Clearly, it was just too much for my close-minded brain to recognize. In my mind, it still sounds like people are mimicking a dog's bark, or talking about a wrestling match. People working on top of a house definitely isn't the first thing I think.

It's easy when we travel to a foreign country to accept any language differences. But moving just a couple of states over is another thing entirely. It's like we're in the Matrix and there's a glitch in the system that catches us off guard. We're walking around, thinking everything is normal and then suddenly someone pulls out the term "ruffing" and our minds are spinning.... is this real? Are we in the Matrix? This just isn't normal. Like the repeat black cat.

Okay, alright, it's not that bad. But it definitely does catch me off guard. Obviously I still have much to learn about about Hoosiers. I wonder how long it will take me to fully understand the local dialect...

Message Transmission

2011-03-24T11:56:00.000-07:00

Just the other day I was walking down my street with the kids, and we were about ten feet away from a four-way intersection. A red car, presumably driven by one of the local college students, was coming up to the intersection as well. The driver, a young woman, put on her left turn signal, and slowed down just enough to make the turn without squealing the tires.

As a mother, my temper boiled. My three year-old son was walking beside me and usually runs right up to the intersection, if not directly into it. And while the stop signs are not there solely for my child's safety, they do help keep him out of harm's way when car and pedestrian approach the intersection at the same time. This, of course, only works when the driver actually stops like the sign commands.

Thankfully, my son didn't run towards the intersection that time, and we were all kept scotch-free. As she was speeding away, I mentioned to my son that some people obviously couldn't read English, and that some people simply don't understand how to stop their cars. (To which he replied, "Do I know English?")

It just so happened that the full-speed driver was headed to the same place we were. We were off to the college mail room to send a package, and just as we got there, she was on her way out the door.

It's times like these that I think of a parent's ability to send and receive messages through our children.... I was very tempted to say to my son, "yes, some people don't know how to stop at stop signs." This message would then get relayed to the non-law-abiding driver as we walked passed her on our way inside the mail room. At his age, my son does not simply listen to what I tell him, but he often repeats it. And, he is also apt to stare at people walking by us. So, based on the knowledge that I have of my son's habits, I was sure that with a well-timed comment to him about bad driver's, he could transfer the message directly to the person who recently almost ran us over.

And I was sure she'd get the point.

But, instead I just mumbled my frustrated thoughts as my son repeated over and over, "What? What did you say mom??" Finally I told him what I had said, and, as expected, he loudly repeated my comment. Crazy driver was out of ear-shot by that point. I did still gain some sense of satisfaction at the thought of her going red at my son's comments about her bad driving....even if it was only in my imagination.

Maybe if we're lucky, she felt some sense of guilt at just seeing us there at the mailroom--perhaps a reminder that we were still alive, no thanks to her...

O Christmas tree....your leaves are so unchanging...

2011-03-20T12:27:00.000-07:00

Imagine you buy a live, pre-cut Christmas tree from a tree farm near your house. You put the tree up for a couple of weeks. You are in a hurry to get it out of the house, and instead of taking the tree out of its base, you quickly put the entire decoration on your outside deck to save time. The tree sits, in its stand, in the elements, unwatered by you. How long will the tree last?

According to one website I found, a well-maintained live tree could last up to five weeks (http://urbanext.illinois.edu/trees/selection.cfm) I wonder whether one would consider a tree, already cut, out in the natural elements, "well-maintained?"

I would like you to take a look at two pictures. While you are looking at these pictures, I'd like you to ponder this question: Do these branches belong to a tree that is dead or alive?

Indeed, these look like live branches, do they not? Perplexing.

This tree was purchased in early December, already cut, to use as our Christmas tree. We placed it in a stand and it sat decorating our family room for about three weeks until some family arrived. We needed the space where the tree was, so I quickly took the decorations down. The tree had been sitting in front of the patio doors to the deck. My brother-in-law opened the door and swung the whole thing just outside. As it snowed throughout the winter, it was lovely to see the branches covered in white.

Now, our Midwest weather is starting to warm. Spring has just arrived. And our Christmas tree sits, still in its stand on our deck, more alive and green than it ever was at Christmastime. Strange? I think so.

I wonder if it will continue to thrive without our help. It certainly seems to be a resilient tree. My husband plans to use it for next Christmas. I'm not sure I truly believe it will last that long. For now, though, it will continue to sit on our porch. I wonder what the passersby think of our deck decoration.

The Riddler

2011-03-15T18:56:00.000-07:00

My husband loves riddles. For Valentine's Day, he couldn't just give me my card, he had to give me a riddle instead. The answer to the riddle would lead to the card. I remember the first birthday I celebrated after we were married: he left clues, from one to the next, all around the house that I had to follow in order to finally discover my gift. Sometimes these riddles are fun; sometimes they are extremely frustrating.

My husband's family was visiting this past weekend and much of their time was spent puzzling over his riddles. His younger brothers love to stretch their minds, and my husband was happy to give them the opportunity to do just that. Hour after hour was spent challenging, stretching, and frustrating their minds.

The last night they were here, the two brothers were still trying to figure out one last puzzle. They had been trying for nearly half the day. They decided to give it one last attempt before going to bed and heading back home in the morning. Try as they might, they still couldn't get it. The youngest brother pleaded with me to tell him the answer. One of the rules of the game, though, is that no one who knows the answer is allowed to share that information. I, in my empathy towards my brother-in-law, felt no reason why I couldn't give him clues--albeit, clues that closely resembled the actual answer. My husband was furious; my actions were against the rules. I was not so bothered. Why couldn't his brother know? He would be plagued for the night, if not subsequent days, without the answer. What could it hurt to tell him? At least he could get a good night sleep.

Perhaps it's best that my brother-in-law couldn't seem to grasp my well-informing hints. He never got the answer. This was an easy resolution to the debate over whether it was appropriate to give away the solution. I had never realized how much more of a law-abider my husband is than I. Now I am revealed for the rule-breaker that I am. And I am not ashamed.

So, on that note, here are some of the riddles that my husband used to disarm his brothers on their visit. And, like I said, I am not held by any law of riddle-ology. If you want the answers, feel free to ask. I willingly give that information to any who request it.

Riddle 1:
Petals Around the Rose

Riddle 2:
(taken from this site: physics forum)
30 Prisoners are on death-row. The prison warder doesn't view their crimes with much seriousness,and decides to give them a chance to escape. He offers the following:
Tomorrow all of you (the prisoners) will be blindfolded, and either a black or a white hat will be placed on your heads. You will then be placed in a row, all facing the same direction, all in a straight line (so all but one is facing someone elses back). Then your blindfolds will be removed. You cannot see your own hat, or those on the people behind you. But you can see all the hats of the people in front of you.
The offer is escape from execution, if you can guess what color hat you are wearing. You have the opportunity to say one word: "black" or "white." Nothing else. If you guess correctly, they you be freed. Otherwise, death.
What strategy can be used to maximize the number of prisoners freed, assuming they get a chance to discuss a plan that same night (ie:prior to being lined up)? What is this strategy, and how many prisoners will be guaranteed their freedom?

Riddle 3:
(taken from a fantastic comic for silly smart people: xkcd)
A group of people with assorted eye colors live on an island. They are all perfect logicians -- if a conclusion can be logically deduced, they will do it instantly. No one knows the color of their eyes. Every night at midnight, a ferry stops at the island. Any islanders who have figured out the color of their own eyes then leave the island, and the rest stay. Everyone can see everyone else at all times and keeps a count of the number of people they see with each eye color (excluding themselves), but they cannot otherwise communicate. Everyone on the island knows all the rules in this paragraph.

On this island there are 100 blue-eyed people, 100 brown-eyed people, and the Guru (she happens to have green eyes). So any given blue-eyed person can see 100 people with brown eyes and 99 people with blue eyes (and one with green), but that does not tell him his own eye color; as far as he knows the totals could be 101 brown and 99 blue. Or 100 brown, 99 blue, and he could have red eyes.

The Guru is allowed to speak once (let's say at noon), on one day in all their endless years on the island. Standing before the islanders, she says the following:

"I can see someone who has blue eyes."

Who leaves the island, and on what night?

[There are no mirrors or reflecting surfaces, nothing dumb. It is not a trick question, and the answer is logical. It doesn't depend on tricky wording or anyone lying or guessing, and it doesn't involve people doing something silly like creating a sign language or doing genetics. The Guru is not making eye contact with anyone in particular; she's simply saying "I count at least one blue-eyed person on this island who isn't me."

And lastly, the answer is not "no one leaves."]

Nothing but the Whole Story

2011-03-06T07:50:00.000-08:00

Have you ever had someone say something to you that you had never heard before? Particularly about yourself? I distinctly remember one such conversation in my own life. The insight came from a coworker at the time, Nate, and I have never forgotten it.

I had just moved to Cambridge, MA after getting married and had started working at Ten Thousand Villages in Central Square. It was a dark night with no customers, and Nate and I were spending our last hour chatting together. I had mentioned to him that I made homemade pizza the night before. He asked if I had put oil on the edges of the crust.

Stop here: Simple enough question, right?? The answers are either 1) yes or 2) no. Simple. Concise.

Instead of giving him a yes or no answer, though, I started telling him about my whole pizza-making experience, starting from, of course, the beginning. He stopped me mid-sentence and said something like, "Why do you always do that?! Why don't you just answer my question instead of giving me the entire story start to finish??"

Hold on. Woah. What's going on? It was like getting a cartoon anvil dropped on my head. Are you saying I can't answer a simple question; I only ever tell stories?

I took a mental step back. Wow. He was absolutely right. It had never before occurred to me that I was a failure at simple conversation.

As the years have gone on and I've continued to recognize this about myself, I've started to think it's something of a disease. I often wonder what kind of treatment there is for CST..... Compulsive Story-Telling.... I've tried to train myself to recognize the symptoms, and yet, so often the beast cannot be tamed. Even mid-story I'll recognize what's going on and start an inward battle-- Stop, stop, STOP! This person didn't ask for a story! They didn't ask for an account of all your waking hours yesterday! Look, even now they are becoming disinterested! Quick! Fall back! Regroup! Get yourself together!! But then there's my loquaciousness giving its best fight--No! I will not stop! I will just go on and on until my story is done! It can't be done any other way! I will not give up!

And when the conversation is over, I see a vision of Nate in my mind, standing behind the register counter, pointing out my social inabilities. Perhaps it would be better for me if I made a career of story-telling. Since I can't shake this habit, maybe it's the only suitable response. I can't help but think, though, that my family and friends would much prefer another option. One where my CST can be put in check so that interactions with me aren't quite so grueling. If only I could have a CST dial.... turn it down for daily interactions....then turn it up when someone's in need of a great story. My own personal Personality Dial.

Coming Soon to stores near you..... "The Personality Dial" for all those times you need to do a little adjusting.....

Nature Vs. Nurture: Female Stress Eating

2011-03-01T20:35:00.000-08:00

As I mentioned in my last post, my husband has been stuck at home recently while he recovers from his appendectomy. This had provided he and I with ample time to discuss the particulars of life. One of our most recent topics of discussion, and subsequently our most recent topic of disagreement, has been on the matter of female stress eating.

Much to my worry, my eleven month old daughter began tripling her food consumption last week amidst the family drama. She had started eating more in the weeks prior, but last week in particular, her eating skyrocketed. She rarely slept and wanted to eat every hour or so. It seemed she was consuming more than would be possible for a child her size.

My husband was not worried, nor was he surprised. Of course she's gorging, he says. She is anxious. And when females are anxious, they eat.

No, no, no, I said. She's 11 months old. Stress eating doesn't start that young. It's a cultural thing, not a biological one.

This can't be true, he replies, or else what you've told me in the past isn't true. You've told me before that you can't help but stress eat because you're a female.

At first I thought he was just playing me so that I would finally admit that I was making excuses for my frequent gorging when I'm stressed. Alright, I thought to myself, you win. But truly, he was being serious. He has decided that it is a perfectly female thing to do and that it is most certainly a biological trait. No matter how much I love the idea that I would have a solid excuse to eat ice cream on a bad day, it just doesn't seem like my genetic code is also encouraging me to do so.

These are the times when my interest in anthropology kicks in and I'm wondering if this is as typical an event in other areas of the world as it is here in America. And, please do note that I'm not saying every woman has this response to stress. And certainly my husband isn't either. But at this point, it does bring up some intriguing questions.... Is this as common in other countries as it is in America? If so, is it because there is a biological element to it that to a degree cannot be avoided? And if so, does this speak to present "dieting" fads and practices....??

Well, there's your question for the day. Interesting to think about, no? What do you think?

Home Alone

2011-02-25T14:35:00.000-08:00

My husband had a stomach pain for a couple of days before being rushed to the hospital--turned out, his appendix was inflamed to the size of his thumb. (Reference point: the appendix is usually about 4 inches long and maybe the width of a pen.) The hospital worked fast and smoothly to remove it within hours of his diagnosis. He stayed in the hospital overnight and then came home the next day. His time at home recuperating has given me enormous insight into differences between my husband and I.

I loved having a large family growing up, but I always cherished the time at home alone. That rarely happened, but when it did, I treasured it. Still today, if I ever get a day at home without the kids or husband, it is a treat. It's like a day to do-what-I-want. I would use the day curled up on the sofa watching movies or TV shows, eating all the junk food I wanted.

And so, projecting my own wishes on my husband, I originally tried to avoid being home as much as possible after his surgery. Instead of being delighted, he was disappointed. He told me that he'd rather I be home more. As far as I was concerned, this was ridiculous. Why on Earth would he prefer two whining, troublesome, rambunctious children to be home just so he could remind them that he couldn't play with them or get very near them? And for my part, I didn't realize how difficult it would be to have my husband at the house in body but not in assistance. I hadn't realized how often I relied on him to pull my 11 month old away from an outlet full of wires or help my 3 year old on the toilet when necessary.

It still confounds me as to why he'd rather us be home than away. I think that my best dreams are spent imagining myself home alone with nothing to do but enjoy the peace and quiet that actually exists in my house without the rest of my family--choosing my own activities and eating whatever I want without questioning. This whole situation with my invalid husband has moved me to wonder what his dreams are.....obviously, I've learned they don't look like mine.

To start with, he obviously feels like being home with the family all day while recuperating from laparoscopic surgery is not only possible but preferable. These are definitely not emotions I would share in similar circumstances.

Watch out for the quiet ones

2011-02-21T18:51:00.000-08:00

I work just a handful of hours during the week in a daycare setting. We take care of kids from 6 weeks to 6 years old. On days when we're "full," that is around 30 kids, it is definitely chaotic. Anyone would expect as much. What has taken me months to learn is that the quiet kids are the ones you have to be careful of.

It's easy to watch the loud ones closely; you're eyes follow them without even being aware of it. "Joseph, get down off that chair...." "Lora, stop throwing those blocks...." "George, please, please stop yelling....!" But the quiet ones, they can be treacherous without ever being noticed.

I could hardly believe my eyes the first time I saw an incident. One darling little blond-haired toddler who I rarely heard speak slammed her open hand into an unassuming child nearby. The poor kid went flying to the floor in utter bewilderment. It didn't take long for the sobbing to begin, but all the while I was in shock at what I had seen. If I hadn't witnessed it with my own eyes, I never would have believed it. And weeks later, I found this same precious toddler stabbing another girl in the head with a marker. My coworkers were so shocked, they didn't even have the heart to tell the parent what had really happened.

And this little girl is definitely not the only one. What surprises me is that the children who really are the most aggressive are the ones who are the least noticeable. Is it their learned tactics? Have they taught themselves to be quiet in order to be more stealthy in their mischievousness? Or do these traits simply go hand-in-hand? Or is it merely a coincidence?

It's hard to know the correlation, and it's equally as hard to teach yourself to pay attention to the ones who seem like they don't need it. When you're in a room full of kids, you learn to prioritize. When I first started working in this setting, keeping tabs on the reserved kids wasn't a top priority. Now, I realize that it's even more important than keeping tabs on the boisterous ones.

*This picture is not from work.

I just thought it would be fitting to put a picture of a crying baby at the end of this post, since this event is the typical byproduct of the work of the quietly aggressive..... :)

(This crying baby happens to be my 11 month old, at home.)

Subliminal Messages/Girl Scout Cookies

2011-02-15T20:10:00.000-08:00

I love this time of year. But, its not because the temperature sometimes jumps up a few degrees and Spring feels like its finally on its way. I do certainly enjoy this phenomenon. What I love about this time of year are the cookies. Yes, the Girl Scout Cookies. I do a lot of my own baking (if you haven't already noticed), but Thin Mints and Caramel DeLites are cookies I've never attempted on my own. And I don't plan to. I'm sure any I could create wouldn't compare to the deliciousness of the ones mass produced by the Girl Scouts. And I mean that wholeheartedly.

Tonight I broke into my first box of Caramel DeLites. I had never taken much notice of the name, maybe in part because I grew up calling them Samoas. My husband, on the other hand, walks over to me as I'm happily indulging and tells me that the Girl Scouts are trying to send me subliminal messages. You see, the term "lite" generally stirs up images of something that is "lighter" than a similar product--for instance in fat or sugar content. The idea of "lite" makes a person feel like the thing they are consuming is, to some degree, more healthy. So, as I'm enjoying my Caramel DeLite, my husband tells me that my mind is being manipulated.

No, I tell him. My mind is not being manipulated. I assure him that I bought the cookies based on their taste and not their title. In fact, I didn't even notice that it was DeLite instead of Delight. No, no, no, he says. Your conscious may not have realized it, but your subconscious surely did. And that is their purpose--to sway you to buy the cookies on account of their "healthiness"--though they are most certainly not healthy at all.

While this may be true for some people, this definitely wasn't true for me. I bought these cookies because they taste amazing. In fact, I tell my husband, I would buy them even if they were called Caramel DeFats instead of Caramel DeLites. Huh, he says, walking away in disbelief, shaking his head. He might not believe me, but I'm sure of it. They're delicious no matter their name. As far as I'm concerned, worth the cost and the calories.

The child in the room

2011-02-13T20:42:00.000-08:00

You know the phrase "the elephant in the room"? It's the idea that there is something lingering on everyone's collective thoughts, but no one is willing to come out in the open and talk about it. I think "the child in the room" should be the phrase used to describe the exact opposite--when there is something lingering on everyone's collective thoughts, and everyone wants to talk about it.

Most parents of small children are probably acutely attuned to this phenomenon. You can't walk into a small store, or stand too long in one place at a grocery store, without a stranger approaching you about your child. "Oh, what beautiful brown hair he has!"... actually, it's a girl. "Oh, such big brown eyes!"....actually, they're green. "Oh, he must be three months old; am I right?!" ....no, you're wrong. He's six months old.

Sometimes I find it hard not to react, at least inwardly, in a somewhat begrudging tone. It's as if this stranger can't help but say something, but doesn't really have anything useful, or even accurate, to say. And there are also the times that I just really don't want all eyes on me and my children.

I was at a fast food restaurant this past weekend; we were far from home and my hypoglycemic son very much needed to eat a meal. My 10 month old daughter, though beaming with joy, had mucous smeared all over her face. Try though I might, it was nearly impossible to get much of the snot off of her face since a) the tools available to me at Wendy's were not quite sufficient and b) my daughter fought me at every move. And so, I tried my hardest to steer clear of any possible interactions with the general public. I desperately avoided eye contact with anyone but my daughter and son. I was doing pretty well until a worker came to clean a table next to ours. My son couldn't help but stare at her spray bottle and ask me inquisitively what she might be doing. And when your child is staring at someone else, it always seems like the nice thing to do to acknowledge that person and briefly explain why your child is so enthralled with him or her.... So, I had no choice but to give up on my intentional avoidance of others and look this woman in the eye. It took just one look for the conversations to begin.

It felt like the room erupted around me. "Oh, look at that little girl! How adorable!" "Yes, and her big eyes!" "And what little feet!" "My feet were never that small...." "And are you her brother? You must be a great big brother!" On and on and on it went. I just wanted to flee the scene as quickly as possible. But of course, my son was lapping it up. His face was beaming with delight; oh how he relishes the attention! There I was, trying as well as I could to cover my daughter's face so that it might be a little less obvious that she was covered in green snot from forehead to chin. My son is thinking, "this is GREAT!" and I'm thinking, "get me OUT of HERE!" But of course, I couldn't make a run for it. We were stuck there until my son finished eating. And he is a slow eater.

A lot of times you hear a parent talk about how much longer everything takes because of having small children. It's true. But it's not just because of the children themselves. It's also because of all the passerby en-route who have something to say about the children. Don't ever expect to get through the grocery line quickly. But on the other hand, if you're ever looking for a way to grab the attention of an entire room with very little effort--carry a baby with you. Never fails.

DELICIOUS!

2011-02-08T18:44:00.000-08:00

I have recently decided that trifles are pretty cool. Sadly, I don't have a trifle bowl. Thankfully, I have a friend who does.

We had some students over for dinner last weekend and it was requested that I make a banana trifle. I found a simple recipe online for a caramel banana trifle, but I don't like simple. Simple is boring. Here was the basic recipe:

layer of pound cake
layer of vanilla pudding
layer of banana
layer of caramel
layer of cool whip
repeat

Yes, a great beginning. But I made it even better. Here was my trifle:

layer of homemade caramel pound cake
layer of french vanilla pudding
layer of bananas
layer of caramel
layer of caramel sprinkles (in this case from Pampered Chef)
layer of cool whip
repeat

Not that different in essence, and yet totally different in taste. The caramel pound cake and caramel sprinkles make this dessert unbelievably delicious. So, here is the recipe I used to make the caramel pound cake. It may take longer than going to the store, but trust me, it's worth it. You won't regret the time spent.

Caramel Pound Cake
Instead of putting the cake into a tube pan, I separated the batter into two loaf pans and baked it for 3/4 the time. I used one loaf for the trifle. You can either wrap and freeze the second, or, make another trifle days later after you've finish the first....since you'll want to keep eating it. :)

Here are the amounts you'll need for the layers to accommodate a trifle bowl:
1 pound cake
2 packages pudding
3 bananas
1 jar caramel sauce (I used about half of mine, but you could definitely use more)
1 large container of cool whip (or two normal size containers)
Tablespoon or 2 of caramel sprinkles

heart muffins!

2011-02-06T17:30:00.000-08:00

I was making banana chocolate chip muffins for a Valentine's Day gathering last Friday and was trying to come up with a way to make the yellow and brown muffins a bit more festive. I found some ideas online about forming aluminum circle muffin liners into hearts, and then baking them on a cookie sheet. Sounded perfect! The only problem was that my muffin batter ended up being pretty stiff--it was the first time I had made this particular recipe, so I didn't have any prior knowledge about the final consistency. The stiff batter proved to be a little tricky to get into the heart-shaped muffin liners, but, I persevered! It was definitely worth it. But, the next time I attempt hearts, I will definitely use a softer batter. Here are some pictures of the results. I would encourage you all to make some heart muffins this Valentine's Day--they'll be a hit no matter where you take them!

Warm and Fishy

2011-02-03T17:46:00.000-08:00

What?! Warm and fishy?! Yep, that's right! I decided to make some rice bags this week as we buckled down for the "blizzard of the decade" (which didn't really end up being that) to keep warm while the cold wind roared outside. While I was making my boring rectangle rice bag, Elijah told me he'd like one too--but in the shape of a fish. I was a little taken aback, since if anything, my son asks for things with wheels. Never sea creatures. But hey, I was thrilled with the idea of making a fish. A fish would be much simpler than a train.

So, in a very short amount of time, with scraps of fabric from other projects and a little know-how, I made two rice bags: one rectangle and one fish. It occurred to me during the process that one could really make a rice bag into almost any shape she wanted, thus making warm rice bags appealing to any age group.

Your homework is as follows: break out the sewing machine (or, needle and thread if you don't have a sewing machine) and get creative. You'll be delighted by the style and function of your rice bag and it will definitely make your winter that much more pleasant.

Instructions:

1) Get creative and find a silhouette of something fun. Cut your fabric accordingly. (But realize that when you turn it right-side-out, the corners won't be quite as tight--take this into consideration. Don't get too detailed!)

2) Sew right sides of fabric together along edges, leave 1-2 inch opening to fill with rice or beans. Turn right-side out, being careful not to rip opening.

3) Fill 3/4 full with rice or beans.

4) Close seam by hand. (I made mine a little fancier by sewing an outer seam around the edges before putting the rice in--still leaving a hole for the rice. Then, to close the bag, I completed my outer seam. It gave it a cleaner look.)

Kisses that Heal

2011-01-29T13:31:00.000-08:00

I don't remember ever telling my son that a kiss would heal his pain. I know that at times, when he's crying after a tumble or because of a small cut, I have offered him a kiss. I never thought of the kiss as a band-aid, only as a reminder that I love him and that I'm here to offer him comfort whenever he needs it.

Yesterday, I mentioned to my son that I was feeling sick. "It's okay," he told me. "It's okay mommy. Don't worry." Then he turned and kissed me two times. "It's okay mommy. Now you're feeling better." I couldn't help but chuckle to myself. I'm feeling better, am I? That was a quick and easy remedy. If only it were that simple. It made me wonder as to where in the world he got this idea--that kisses had some kind of magical healing powers. Certainly, he must be aware that when I kiss him, the pain doesn't go away.

So I walked away smiling at the wonder of children, at how their small minds process things like kisses and healing. But the more I thought of it, the more I thought that my son was kind of right. Kisses may not be able to heal the physical aspects of my sickness, but what does it do to the emotional aspects of my sickness? When I'm sick, I'm often tired, impatient, annoyed and miserable. What can a kiss do to those feelings? I imagine you know the answer to that question. When my son gave me two kisses, I feel a little less tired, impatient, annoyed and miserable. And while I was still coughing and pulling tissue after tissue out of the box, my heart was a little lighter.

I know that in my own life, I seek out comfort when I'm in pain. When I was in labor for both of my children, I had no delusions that my husband would ease my burden. Yet, having him there was an emotional comfort that I couldn't do without.

I'm realizing now that my son's way of thinking about a kiss isn't that far gone from the reality. Sometimes being comforted in our pain is just as important as the release from the pain itself.

To Sleep

2011-01-24T19:16:00.000-08:00

"In the bleak midwinter, frosty winds made moan...." So has my three year old, ailing with a runny nose and itchy, gooey eyes. Anguish has come upon this house, weeping and gnashing of teeth. (Him weeping, me biting my nails because I can't handle the stress of the constant high-pitched whine sounding throughout the day and night.) Every ten minutes in the night comes a plea for help and comfort, a plea that, at times, I long to ignore. Oh to replace the chill of the cold air and the wetness of a snotty nose for the serenity of warm flannel sheets and a down comforter, guiding me to a night full of dreamful bliss. If only one sweet song or one loving kiss was enough to quell the pain and sorrow of a small child in the midst of an internal battle. If only I could send in my own troops to vanquish the enemy, or at least, to remove the voice box of the despondent so that even one of us could get sleep. So little sympathy you say? And yet in a battle, does not one soldier rest while the other keeps guard, so that not everyone will be too exhausted for the war? Think of the benefits of a well-rested mother!

Hopefully this war will not rage much longer, because my energy is dwindling with every passing hour. Oh germs, have mercy! Have mercy on a weary mother! For with one wailing child, always comes another. How tired my arms are from carrying one needy child all day while attempting to nurse another. Let darkness come over this night that we would not wake but for morning light. Let us wake with renewed energy, and opened sinuses for all.

Super Cooling

2011-01-22T07:10:00.000-08:00

Yesterday morning I was putting the kids in the car and noticed a full bottled water lying on the car floor, yet liquid. At about 4 degrees outside, this caught my attention. There were three other containers of water, partially full, perfectly frozen on the floor next to this one. I thought it might be my eyes playing tricks on me, so I leaned over and poked the bottle to see if somehow, it might have frozen clear. No, it was unfrozen water inside. Yet, seconds after I discovered this, the water turned to ice. Starting from the point where I touched it, the once clear water almost magically changed to a white frozen slush. It traveled from my poke all the way up to the bottle neck within seconds. I thought I was going crazy. I'd never seen anything like it in my life. I started poking the bottle again--what in the world was going on?! It still wasn't solid ice like the rest of the bottles, but it was definitely harder and was now fully white.

Turns out, I saw an event called "super cooling." I had never heard of it, but now that I've seen it, I'm amazed that it's possible. My husband was almost jealous that I saw the process, knowing right away what it was when I told him what I had seen. He ran to the computer and googled "super cooling." The whole thing still doesn't make perfect sense to me, but I can grasp the basic elements: pure water, untouched bottle, slowly cooled to below freezing.

I would encourage anyone looking for a fun experiment, and especially those homeschooling, to check this out. It is unbelievable to watch, but, surprisingly, it seems possible to replicate. Here are some youtube videos showing the basic idea:

Unbelievable, right? That's what I thought. But I saw it with my own eyes! Now go, try it for yourself and be amazed.

Going to New Zealand

2011-01-19T20:42:00.000-08:00

My three year old would like to take me and the family to New Zealand. I'm not sure exactly what the draw to New Zealand is, except that he might have heard me mention the place on occasion as I did a study abroad there in college.

First, he offered to drive me there in a couple years when he's older. I informed him that we'd have to go over water and a car would be less than sufficient to do such a thing. "Don't worry," he said. "I will drive a boat." I told him it would take a very, very, very long time. "It's okay mom. I will take you there." Obviously, we have nothing better to do with our time.

Almost daily for the past week, he has made mention of our upcoming voyage to New Zealand. I'm not sure what he expects to find there, but he is definitely excited for whatever it may be.

There it is. Forgotten even on most world maps I see.... Our desination.

Simple. Quick. Delicious. One of our favorites.

2011-01-18T10:24:00.000-08:00

There are a lot of us out there who are somewhat carbohydrate obsessed. Or at least, I like to think I'm not alone. I would take a soft, bready treat over candy any day. When it comes to my meals, there is almost always a disproportionate amount of carbs to proteins..... quarter plate of protein....quarter plate of veggies.... half a plate of carbs. Yep. That's how my dinner plate usually looks. For those of you who also like to chow down on the carbs, I have a wonderful, simple and quick meal that may just become a favorite in your house like it is in ours.

Pasta with Broccoli and Chicken Sausage

You'll need:
-1 lb. pasta, your choice
-2 crowns of broccoli
-two cloves of garlic
-half a package of chicken sausage (we like the roasted red pepper, or spinach and mozzarella for this meal, but you can choose whatever you think sounds good--that's the benefit of chicken sausage!)
-olive oil
- 1c. romano cheese

To make:

1) While heating the water for the pasta, cut broccoli into bite-size pieces (not too small)
2) When water is ready, put in pasta. Set timer. Cut chicken sausage into 3/4 inch pieces. Put 2TBS olive oil in a skillet and add crushed garlic cloves; set on medium.
3) When pasta is at about 6 minutes left to cook, get it to a rolling boil. At five minutes, add broccoli and cover. (Keep a boil going to cook.)
4) When oil in skillet is hot and garlic is translucent, add chicken sausage. Cook until browned.
5) When pasta is cooked, drain, and add 1c. romano cheese, and olive oil to desired taste. Add salt and pepper to taste as well. Add sausage.

Here are some pictures of when I recently made the recipe, but note that this is a double batch. We had a lot of broccoli to use up (5 crowns I think!) and since my family gobbles this stuff up, my husband recommended I just double the batch. I couldn't stir everything together well at the end, so I ended up just putting the cheese on top instead of into the bowl. And this was the first time I'd used linguine--usually we use shells or radiatore or penne--and I will say it's a lot more difficult to stir when all is said and done!

(This is my son enjoying his reflection in the pot!)

A Picture Guide to Breadmaking

2011-01-14T18:57:00.000-08:00

I know growing up that I rarely got the chance to see bread made by hand. And, sadly, those times I did get to see the process, I was too young to etch into my memory the crucial points necessary make a mouth-watering loaf on my own. I've tried to learn from trial and error how to make a delicious bread, but I have definitely failed numerous times along the way. None of my creations were ever inedible. But some of them certainly wouldn't have been described as "amazing" or any synonym thereof.

I do know that early on, it would have been helpful for me to see some of what the process looked like. I am a visual person and when I read something, I have to see it in my mind before I really feel like I can understand what I'm reading. So, in an effort to give you a little more insight if you're a beginner, or, to give you some motivation if you haven't tried it yet, here is my picture guide to breadmaking. Do bear in mind that some of these steps don't hold true for certain breads (like gluten-free breads for example), but most breads would use this same process. Once you get these basics down, you'll be able to make almost any bread you want! Is your mouth watering yet?

This recipe is an herb bread based on this.

Signs of Maturity

2011-01-12T14:54:00.000-08:00

There's been a lot of snow here lately and you can see people out shoveling their walkways. You can also see people dusting the accumulated snow off their cars in order to get to where they need to be. I hadn't thought much of this until I passed a couple of cars on the road the other day that looked like they should still be parked on the side of the road. Unlike the rest of us doing major snow-removal, on their cars, just one or two small circles were carved out of the blanketed snow on the front windshield. They could only see the outside world as much as that small disk uncovered.

I live a stone's throw from a college campus, so it certainly didn't come as a surprise to see such a car. It did make me realize, though, that somewhere along the line I must have gotten a little more mature and responsible.... because gone for me are the days of only carving out one tiny circle directly in front of the driver's side window. I actually go through the trouble of trying to get as much snow as I can from all sides of the car. On top of that, I make sure that the front and back windshields as well as the passenger and driver's side windows are completely cleared.

I'm not sure if it's parenthood to blame on my maturity, or just growing older. I am over a quarter-century old now. Guess it should count for something. Whatever the cause, maturity has definitely been taking hold of certain aspects of my life. Removing snow from my car is just one sign of the change. With maturity, though, also comes expectations..... I can't imagine what others would think of me if they saw me driving around in what looked like a gas-powered snow monster with one cyclops eye!

There it is, my Pyrite Mica Rav4 all cleaned off and ready to ride.

Hookers at the library

2011-01-08T11:21:00.000-08:00

We all love hearing those hilarious things that children say that make so much sense to them, but mean something entirely different to us. At least, sometimes we do. At other times, we wish our children would choose better places in which to share the way they see the world. Today we were at the library and my son was working hard at putting a train together. He even had a new little friend there to help him. She would find a train piece and pass it to him, and he would get them all buckled up and straight on the track. At one point, my son looks up to me and says, "where are the other hookers?"

.......silence....

"Mom, where are the other hookers?"

"Ummm, excuse me? I'm not sure I understood what you said."

"Where. Are. The. Other. Hookers?"

Oh dear, I'm thinking. Either this girl has just informed him about a corrupt and terrible concept in our world, or at the least, my son is ranting about hookers to all of the children section of the library. Whispering, I tried to ask him again, "I'm not exactly sure what you mean.... could you quietly tell me what you're talking about?"--looking around to make sure no one else was grimacing at my son while he talked about not-child-appropriate occupations in the play area.

"I'm looking for the pieces that hook on to these train pieces. See, like this one...??" And as he shows me a train piece that clearly is intended to fit another piece, I suddenly understood. Sadly, I had no better name on the top of my head for the piece that would connect. "Hooker" seemed suitable. And yet not. Very not.

So, I did all I could do, I told him there were no pieces that I could find that fit on to that piece, but that I would look for it. In the meantime, he should focus his energy elsewhere--to the pieces that didn't need anything attached to them. Hopefully that would prevent any more discussion of hookers in the library.

I think we escaped any potential problems unscathed, though, I'm not 100% sure. The father of the girl did come up to me soon afterwards and gave me an awkward introduction. In fact, his entire conversation with me was extremely awkward. My thinking is that either he overheard my son's mention of hookers, or, he's just an awkward kind of guy. I'm not sure which option I'd rather be true.

"Happy Mediums"

2011-01-07T12:19:00.000-08:00

You know that concept of a "happy medium"? Somewhere middle-of-the-road where you are in your comfort zone, not too far to one side or the other in a particular situation...?

I've been thinking about it recently, and I feel like I'm rarely "happy" when I find my "happy medium". It may be my comfort zone, but I'm still so often wondering if I'm making a good choice. I find I second guess myself and compare my situation to someone else's. It leaves me wondering if I'm being a wimp by staying in the middle or if I'm doing it just to keep from having to make a real decision.

Now, of course, no decision is a decision. So, I am inevitably making a decision one way or the other, but is it the right one....?

Perhaps it's my constant pessimism that keeps me at a despairing median instead of a happy medium. Or, I like to think that it's the fact that our culture gives us so many options for every single choice in our lives that there is no way I could ever be sure I was making the right choice. This doesn't apply in all things, but there are certainly a lot of situations where this applies. Do I stay home with my children or work, or maybe just work for a couple of hours a week? Or work from home? Or have my husband stay home while I work. (HA! not likely!)

Do I go to the store that generally sells the cheapest products, or do I go to the store that has a better reputation and employee standards? Or, do I divide my time between them? Or do I go to the more expensive store and spend my time at home clipping coupons to ease the spending?

I could probably spend an hour listing frequent dilemmas I come against--trying to find my own happy medium and ultimately still feeling unsure and unhappy. I can't actually spend an hour listing them, though, since even just the five minutes it's taken me to write this much has my preschooler in tears screaming and me wishing I was headed out the door on a tropical vacation. Oh, to dream.

Healing Eczema

2011-01-06T09:01:00.000-08:00

Back in 2008 I read an article about eczema in the New York Times. It was months after my son developed eczema on his legs and back. We had tried a couple of remedies to no good result, and I was ready to just leave it as it was. It wasn't very severe nor did it seem to bother him much. But, the article mentioned the idea that a bath of bleach water, highly diluted (it gives the ratios in the article), could be a way to kill the bacteria causing or inflaming the eczema, even the worst cases. Another article, this time in Time Magazine, came out almost a year later touting the same research.

Now, I am not always the wisest of moms, so at this point, do as I say, not as I did. While I would recommend talking to your doctor about this, I took matters into my own hands. I used the prescribed amount of bleach and added it to my sons bath water. I didn't do this for every one of his baths, but I did it at least once a week. Quickly, his eczema was gone. The yucky red patches on his legs and back had completely disappeared.

I was shocked. I was also elated. What a simple and inexpensive solution! I soon felt like an advertisement for bleach baths whenever a conversation turned to the struggle with eczema. But no one ever seemed to take me seriously.... Am I that unbelievable? Or is the remedy that unbelievable? Well, let me tell you straight up that it works. Believe it. But, if you're nervous about the idea of using bleach in a bath (either for you or your child), like this woman is, I'd encourage you to take the time to at least educate yourself on the theory and process. It can't do anything but add to your knowledge at the least.

Now certainly this is not the end-all cure for eczema. As the article mentions, this is not a cure for eczema itself as much as a cure for the bacteria possibly causing the eczema (or, making it worse). And, as the anti-bleach-solution mother explains, bleach can be harmful, so you must be cautious. Use your brains, my dear friends, use your brains.

As we start this new year in hopes that it will be even better than the last, I thought I'd just send you along with a tidbit of information that I've found to be helpful in my life. So, if you or someone you know is suffering from eczema, consider this simple solution. Maybe it will bring someone you know a little more joy in 2011.

Santa

2010-12-28T09:47:00.002-08:00

We don't like the idea of lying to our children. This applies to all aspects of our parenting, but it especially came up recently with the talk of Santa flying through the sky on reindeer. We don't necessarily have a problem with the idea of Santa, but we've felt no need to mention him. He's not real, nor is he the reason we celebrate. I didn't think this would cause any problems. How could it? It's not like I told my son about Santa and then proceeded to tell him that Santa wasn't real. Now that, I could see that bring problematic. I could just see my all-knowing three-year old prancing around telling other kids they were wrong about Santa. That would cause an argument or two in the playgroups.... But, like I said, I didn't do that. I figured we'd just pass by the Holiday season without much mention of the big guy in the red suit.

What I didn't count on was other people talking to my son about Santa. Boy was I shocked the first time someone asked my son, "So, are you excited about Santa coming?"! My poor son turned to me with a look of utter confusion and just hid under my legs. I'm sure he must have thought that person mistook him for someone else--someone else who might have had family visiting....maybe a member of the family named "Santa." Hmmmm..... maybe something like that.

Then it happened again and again. Once, while at the checkout at CVS, a woman asked him, "Are you ready for Santa?" And my son smiled wide with a mischievous grin, "not quite......!" At that point, I think it had become a game to him. I finally asked him last night, "who's Santa?" To this, he had only one reply: "I don't know."

I'm not sure how widespread it is, but at least here in our little town, Santa sure seems to be a big part of the culture. I hadn't realized that before, but I certainly know it now. I had a short talk with my son about things people think of when they talk about Santa. To be honest, I'm not sure that he really cared. Seems like maybe he just loved all the attention and questions, regardless of whatever the people might have been talking about. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. He is a three year old after all. What's more important--understanding life, or making sure it revolves around you?

Santa

2010-12-28T09:47:00.000-08:00

Sugar Cookies!

2010-12-20T18:53:00.000-08:00

I made it my goal to find that "one" sugar cookie recipe that would be fit for all my needs. I'd tried many recipes in the past, and never could find just the right one. There were ones that I found easy to cut out but lacking in taste. Others were delicious but would never look beautiful. I did come across some recipes that both had a good taste and look, but they still didn't seem just perfect.

Alas! I have come upon the most perfectest of perfect sugar cookies recipe. If you like cookies that are thick and moist, this recipe is for you! These are not thin and crispy, so if those are the kind of cookies you like.... well, you should change your taste. These cookies are far superior to your thin and crispy biscuits.

I came across this sugar cookie recipe at allrecipes.com, but many of the reviewers thought the cookie was too bland. I liked the sound of the recipe, but wanted to fix the taste issue. There were a couple of ideas on the site, but I had made cookies weeks ago that used almond paste and loved the result. I still had half the can left, so I decided to add it to the recipe at allrecipes.com. The result? FANTASTIC!

The cookies were super easy to cut out (almond paste makes a helpful glue) and puffed up just right in the oven. They also tasted GREAT! They were delicious with or without icing. The perfect sugar cookie.

My three year old even helped with the decorating. I put icing on the cookies and he added decorations on top. It was so easy and he loved it. And when he wanted to be artistic with the icing, I put a little pile on the plate and gave him a toothpick. He used the toothpick like a paintbrush and went wild. So, go ahead! Make something delicious at your house, and get everyone involved! The creative process is fun, and so is the consumption process when you're done!

Here's what the recipe looks like when you add the almond paste:

Ingredients

3 cups sifted all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup butter
3/4 cup white sugar
1 egg
1/4 cup sour cream
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
about 1/2 c. almond paste

Directions

Sift flour, baking powder, and salt. Cream butter with sugar, beat in egg, then stir in sour cream and vanilla. Add almond paste. Stir in flour mixture 1/3 at a time.
Wrap dough in wax paper and chill for 2 to 3 hours.
Roll out 1/4 inch thick. Cut out cookies with your favorite cookie cutters. Put on ungreased cookie sheet. Bake at 350 degrees F (175 degrees C) for 10 minutes.

This is my son putting M&M wheels on his train.

This train was a cooperative effort--the engine was made by our 15 year old neighbor, the first car by my 3 year old son, and the last car by our 14 year old neighbor.

I joined in the fun too, though, not until everyone else had gone. I made a cookie to look like my husband--he's holding it here. :)

Christmas for My Son

2010-12-15T11:41:00.000-08:00

My three year old seems to be very confused about Christmas. Is it a day? A time? A thing? To be accurate, he doesn't actually think he's confused. I'm the one who thinks he's confused.

Last year, a neighbor bequeathed a large battery-operated train to us as they no longer had need of it. My son was overjoyed. I have dozens of pictures of him sitting in the middle of the tracks, on his belly, his grin from ear to ear, intently watching the train go around and around. We called it the Christmas Train, as it spent most of its time circling the Christmas Tree. We also called it the Christmas train because we were only going to get it out once a year--around Christmas.

So, at my son heard talk of Christmas coming, even in the beginning of November, he pleaded for us to get out the Christmas train. Finally, last Saturday, we purchased a tree and got out the train. He's played with it every day.

I mention this story because I think it's paved the way for my son's confusion about Christmas. If I were to use an example of another adjective (other than Christmas), I could say that I am wearing a blue shirt. My shirt is blue. So, if we were to replace the adjective of color to the adjective of Christmas, my shirt would be Christmas. To my son, the train is Christmas.

My mother recently sent a box full of present for the kids; I have placed them all under the tree. This morning, I said something to my son about the presents under the tree. "What presents?" he exclaimed. "Those aren't presents, those are Christmas!" And as for opening those presents, despite anything I say to the contrary, he believes he will get to open them "when Christmas is over." I am starting to see it the way he does.... that these trappings are Christmas. And, as for the presents, when we are done with the trappings as they are, then we may do something else with them (in this instance, open them).

To be honest, I'm not sure he's all that wrong. I mean, as far as the non-spiritual aspects of Christmas, it is definitely the trappings that I think of when I think of the season--trees, red and green decorations, presents, cookies and parties. Without them, would it be Christmas? (Again, I am referencing "Christmas" as a season--I'm not talking here about "Christmas" as a remembrance of our Savior's birth.)

Well, it's something to think about. :)

On the Phone

2010-12-12T19:41:00.000-08:00

Growing up, I hated calling people for the first time. I even hated calling a friend when it was likely someone besides that friend would answer the phone. At home, I ran from the phone when it started to ring. I'd rather hear it ring ten times than answer it. This was back in the day before Caller ID. What a brilliant, brilliant invention, Caller ID. I am very thankful for it--on a daily basis.

I'm not sure the reason for my phone-phobia, but there is still some of it lingering today. In fact, it wasn't until I had to start calling hospitals and doctors all the time that I started to get better about the phone. My son's medical condition pushed me to start doing what I hated. But through the challenge, I grew. Isn't that how it happens sometimes?

Though, like I said, there is still some phone-phobia lingering. And this weekend, my phone-phobia nerves were pushed to their limits. I had offered to help a local non-profit by making calls for them. They were in desperate need of volunteers, and I really like helping out. I just had to call 50 families to give them some information on an upcoming event that they were scheduled to attend. No problem. While I figured it'd take a while to call all the families, I didn't expect it to be quite so overwhelming for me. Besides, I was calling them with very exciting news.

Most of these people didn't answer the phone when I called. A similarly large number of them didn't have voicemail. At first, I didn't think this would be a problem; I would just call them later. But what happened instead was a mystery to me. Suddenly, my phone was ringing...

Me: "Hello?"
Person A: "Hello."
Me: "......... ummmmm.... yes. Hello." <AHHHHH!! I'm freaking out!! Stop! Don't do this to me! I'm going to hang up!>
Person A: "You called me."
Me: <trying desperately to hold it together> "Riiiiiight.... I probably did call you. Could you please tell me your name?"
Person A: <shocked that I would have to ask for their name> <pause> <gives me his name>
Me: <glad to have a name, searching through papers while my mind spins because my stress level is through the ROOF> "Right, well, let me just find your information here so I can let you know what's going on....."

At that point, it generally took me the entire conversation to calm down after the trauma. And this happened over and over again. You might think I'd get used to it. But I didn't. How could I?!?! THE STRESS!! Wow. I mean, seriously, it took all that was in me not to hang up on them right after the first awkward "hello." Don't these people know they should at least say their NAME when they call someone!! EEK! Oh dear.... oh dear.... So anxiety producing....!

Obviously, I am not cut out for this type of work. Lesson learned. The hard way. I think we know one kind of volunteer work that I won't be volunteering to do in the near future.

The key to having a great party

2010-12-05T20:33:00.000-08:00

I love love love having people over. Our house isn't big or gorgeous, and I certainly don't keep it spotlessly clean. But, that doesn't keep me from inviting people over every chance I get.

Today I had my first Pampered Chef party, and I think it went pretty well. It definitely got me motivated to have another holiday party next year--but I'm thinking maybe I'll do a "caroling" party instead. Who knows; really, I have an entire year to decide. No rush!

Since my party went so well, I figured I'd let you guys in on a little secret to party success. Some of my guests were wondering how I could have such an amazing array of food and yet have two small children to take care of during the week (and a husband too, don't forget!). Here it is (shhhh, don't tell....):

PLAN, PLAN, PLAN!

I made sure to organize everything from what dishes I would prepare to what days I would prepare them to what time I should set them out on the table the day of the party. Tuesday I made caramel chex mix. Wednesday I got the pomegranate ready. Thursday I made egg nog pie. Friday I went grocery shopping for the rest of the ingredients I needed and also made cream cheese mints. Saturday I made brownies (for the show) and pumpkin mousse. I chopped all the veggies for the veggie tray. I also took a couple of minutes to make some holiday-themed lanterns. (Remember these lanterns? So versatile!) Sunday, I got some mulled cider ready in the crock pot hours before the party, and quick put together some "pigs in a blanket." Tada! That's it!

Here's some of what I made:

Fudgy Brownies
Pumpkin Mousse
Cream Cheese Mints
Pigs in a Blanket

Okay, go to it! Plan your own party and HAVE FUN! :D

Pumpkin Mousse

Egg Nog Pie

Veggies and Pomegranate

Caramel Chex Mix, Cream Cheese Mints and Lanterns

5 reasons snow is fantastic!

2010-12-01T19:11:00.000-08:00

I'm very excited that it's December. Why? Because the chances of snow increase dramatically at this point in the year! At least.... in Indiana. If I lived in Ecuador, this wouldn't be the case. But as it is, I've never even set foot in Ecuador. So the point is moot.

There are those among you who shake your head at me despairingly. Those of you who wonder how I could even say such a thing. Those of you who, simply put, do not like the snow. But my question is this: do you truly hate snow? Or is it the effect of the snow? While it may seem difficult to separate the snow from the effect it has on our lives, I would ask you to consider doing just that.... Think for a moment about just snow....

1. It's white. There are very few things that we see either falling from the sky or growing up from the ground that are white. It is a rarity. White is often considered the color of purity.

2. It has a unique shape. Have you ever seen anything quite like a snowflake? Do you remember ever looking down at your mitten when you were a child, catching that fleeting glimpse of a snowflake's whole form before it began to melt away? It's breathtaking.

3. It's light; it blows with the wind. It almost seems unreal to watch, the way it swirls and sways. Almost like each snowflake was a little fairy fluttering her wings this way and that.

4. It's freezing. Just hear me out on this one. Think of water--rain--how it falls and then pools. It collects in puddles and leaves other areas almost untouched. Snow, because of it's cold nature, can cover the ground more neatly. When it snows, you can look around and see the whole ground covered in white. At least, the possibility is there..... sometimes the snow fairies would rather blow in the wind instead.

5. It glistens. I mean, seriously; I can't think of any other type of weather event that makes everything look quite so amazing.

See, I told you. Snow is fantastic. I know you're nodding your head right now.

Children Left To Themselves

2010-11-28T19:27:00.000-08:00

In general, I think it's true that with every new season of our lives, we see life with a new pair of lenses. Certainly becoming a parent has opened my eyes to many a reality I never noticed before. This Thanksgiving, I realized the wonderful benefit of family gatherings. I'm not sure if I had never noticed it before, or had merely never taken advantage of it, but this Thanksgiving, I realized how many potential babysitters there were in one enclosed space. It was like any member of the family could have had a bulls-eye taped to his/her back, and I could aim my child directly for the center.

This year, I was more than happy to let other people help watch my children while I enjoyed adult conversation or entertaining games. I sadly wasn't able to take advantage of this opportunity as much as I wanted, since my 3 year old was very sick and definitely needed mommy-care. But in those few-and-far-between moments when he was well enough that I could hand him off, I did. Eagerly.

This is a scenario played out in many a home with many a parent, I am sure. And the only real problem with this wonderful childcare solution is that while loving, the family member with the bulls-eye on his back never feels completely responsible for the child. So, the child can potentially be passed from one family member to the other. Or, the child can simply be left to fend for himself.

There are those children who don't like fending for themselves, and so will find another playmate and/or comforter whenever they find themselves alone. But there are other children who find it perfectly acceptable to fend for themselves; in fact, they sometimes prefer it.

In our family gathering this past Thanksgiving, we had an opportunity to observe both. Or at least, we saw the aftermath. My 3 year old is very social and falls into the first category--he always wants someone around. So, once left alone without an adult, he found a playmate. Another four year old. Now, this four year olds character fits more aptly in the second category--he feels perfectly fine fending for himself.

We can only piece together the information of what truly happened during their time spent together based on the interesting insights they have, and, of course, the noticeable physical devastation that occurred. You see, where there had been a collection of untouched, large, home-grown pumpkins and squash, there were just remnants of home-grown pumpkins and squash. Some pieces were still fairly intact with only a few lines, as if someone had been attempting to draw faces into them. Others were truly marred, with holes so large that you could see straight into the innards of the thing itself. And sitting only a couple feet away from the orange and green mess, was a hatchet. It was innocently lying on the floor, a reminder that it was useless unless wielded by a person. From the accounts of those present (only my son and the other 4 year old boy), it was the four year old who wielded the hatchet. My son tells me that the boy was just making jack-o-lanterns. Now that is a boy who is perfectly content to be on his own.

I don't think this story will make me any less apt to hand my child off when I'm around a whole bunch of family. That's just too good a thing to pass up. Maybe, though, it will motivate me to check the surrounding area to make sure there are no sharp, dangerous materials hiding nearby.... We'll see. For now, all I can say is that this Thanksgiving, I had one more thing to be thankful for. Praise the Lord that it was only squash and pumpkins that were cut into: not anything, or anyONE, else!

Being Thankful

2010-11-22T19:23:00.000-08:00

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I thought I would write a post about something for which I'm especially thankful. To be honest, the first thing that came to mind is our upstairs bathroom. This is something that I thank God for daily. Now please, don't be offended. Give me a chance to explain myself.

When my smarty-pants husband and I first got married, we were living in a small one-bedroom apartment in Cambridge, Massachusetts. While I am thankful that he was smart enough to get paid to go to school and not the other way around, I must say that the sum he was getting paid for his smarts wasn't all that amazing. So, we rented an apartment that was on the very low end of the price range in the area. At a mere $900 a month, plus utilities and laundry, it was a steal. But of course, there is a reason it cost a mere $900 a month. The apartment was situated in the basement of a six-unit building. The floor was all hard, cold tile. The heat was pumped through vents at the top of the apartment--enabling us to spend a lot of money to heat the apartment above us. I am sure they were very thankful for our help in subsidizing their heating bills. One of our biggest difficulties in the winter was that the pipes in the bathroom were too close to the outside walls. Every time the temperatures would drop outside (which happened often, of course, it being New England and all), our pipes would freeze. Thankfully, this only applied to the toilet and the sink, not the bathtub. But, it meant that we had to wash our hands in the tub, and then manually refill the toilet water.... Ahh, the life of young newlyweds in the city.

The next winter, we had a small child and after just a few weeks of this, I had more than enough. Finally, someone came to put in some insulation between the pipes and the outside wall. The bathroom itself (and the rest of the apartment) was still ridiculously cold. But at least we didn't have to manually refill the toilet water anymore. Living in luxury.

It was four years ago that we spent our winter filling and refilling a bucket from our tub. I won't ever forget it. Every year when the temperatures drop and winter creeps into the air, I am thankful that we won't be spending our time doing that again. And this year, we even figured out a way to let the temperature get hotter in the shower! Maybe I won't actually have to put an electric heater in there to keep from shivering. I'll tell you what, working plumbing and hot water are definitely big things to be thankful for.

Washing Dishes

2010-11-17T19:06:00.000-08:00

Do you find that there are certain things on your priority list that you don't mind dropping down a few spots? And do you just-so-happen to do this (drop-down) often in regards to a particular task? Generally, I think I have something of a hierarchy of necessary work. But, there are certain tasks that, while "necessary," I thoroughly begrudge doing and so am willing to stall their undertaking as often as possible.

This evening while thinking about it, I decided that my daily chores can be compared to a card game. There are Kings and Queens that beat out all those low-numbered cards, but then there's always a "trump" card, too. So, for instance, cleaning up the toys that are clustered sporadically across the floor might be something like a 3 of Clubs, while doing the laundry so I have a work shirt ready might be a Jack of Spades. Activities like making sure the kids are fed and clean would probably rank in those higher level cards. While things like uncluttering the house and folding laundry would be low level cards.

Now, I'm not that avid a card player, but the "trump" card doesn't always have to be the same--right? That is to say, in one game it could be a Heart and in another game it could be a Diamond.... ? And, is it true it isn't necessarily the same number every time? I ask this, mostly just to make sure my analogy will really work....

You see, when it comes to washing dishes (let's say that's a 2 of Clubs), I will make almost anything a trump against it.

It's not like I abhor washing the dishes. I just don't really like it. There's almost always something else I'd rather be doing. You have to stand there, in one place, hands wet and soapy, wash after wash after wash after wash. Of course, I can't ever really stand there, in one place, since generally when I'm washing dishes, my children are still moving about throughout the house and need attending to every few minutes or so. Which only means that the entire washing dishes process takes that much longer: stop; listen carefully for which child is crying/yelling; rinse soap off hands; dry hands quickly; go check suspicious scene; resolve problematic issue/s; return to soapy water; continue washing; repeat entire process over again until dishes are complete or children have magically disappeared.

The only problem is that you eventually run out of trump cards. That is to say, eventually, the dishes must be done. It's a very disappointing reality. I often wish I was on one of those cooking shows. You see these people creating fantastic meals, but you never see them cleaning the dishes afterwards. At least the way I imagine it, they never even clean the dishes at all. They have their low-level minions do that. And so we have children. Oh, I await the day when they are old enough to be given daily dish duty.

Shutterfly

2010-11-16T10:48:00.000-08:00

So, I just got a Shutterfly account and suddenly I'm getting lots of free stuff. I'm loving it! First, somehow I got an email for a free 8x8 hard cover photo book. Then, once starting a Shutterfly account, I got 50 free prints. Now (just a week later!), Shutterfly is offering bloggers 50 FREE cards just by talking about Shutterfly's products on their blog. Can you even believe it?! I love the free wagon. I wish it came around more often.

For any of you out there who blog but haven't yet signed up to get in on those 50 free cards, here's the link: 50 Free Holiday Cards from Shutterfly

And for the rest of you who don't blog yourself, but are weird enough to read other people's musings, let me tell you a little about the coolness of Shutterfly. In the past, I've mostly used sites like this solely to upload photos and then have them printed. Cheaper than going to any nearby stores, and I like the quality. But my recent interlude with Shutterfly has really opened my eyes. It's amazing all the things you can do with your photos!!

For example, I'm having a girls holiday party--I totally could have made super-cute personalized cards on Shutterfly and sent them out. Check Holiday Invitation ideas out here.

Or, I could make my own personal tags to put on the gifts I give. Check out Tag ideas here. I love the idea of making personalized gift tags on Shutterfly. It's something I wish I had time to do by hand, making really cute personalized tags for each gift, but there's no way I'd really have time with two small kids in the house. Making them on Shutterfly actually seems reasonable!

I'm excited to be getting 50 free cards; they have some really fantastic choices! Check out Christmas Cards here. I'm not sure that it will be easy to decide which one to use!!

I've never done personalized holiday cards before, but last year a large portion of the cards we were given were personalized with a family photo. This may be really strange, but I've always kept these kind of cards. I have personalized Christmas cards from a family I used to babysit for spanning at least 7 years. I love looking at the progression of how the kids grow!! They aren't things I look at often, but maybe once or twice a year. With this Shutterfly offer, and thinking of those cards we've been given, I'm starting to think maybe we should be making it a new tradition in our house! It is such a great excuse to get a family picture, and an easy way to give others a quick glimpse into how we're doing!

Goodbye Creative Songs, Hello Distraction

2010-11-15T12:56:00.000-08:00

Abby was up a lot last night. She rarely cries, but last night for some reason, between the hours of 2am and 4am, there was a lot of crying. Many tears. And for me, there were many frustrated hand gestures, hoping she'd suddenly realize the time and quietly fall back asleep. Finally, she was persuaded to sit in her crib with the hallway light on, giving enough glow to her room that she could play with her toys.

Today, I am tired. Very tired. And still somewhat sick. My voice is hoarse, but I keep thinking the more I use it, the more that will go away.... only, that doesn't seem to be working. Yet.

Sometimes I can start singing a song, just made up from my head, and keep going with it. Sometimes these songs end up sounding pretty good. At least, I think so. Today while I was feeding Abby, and trying to distract myself from Elijah who was causing all sorts of trouble, I starting making up a song. It turned out to be a pretty good one, and I decided that for once, I wanted to try to make an effort to record it. So, I quickly came to the computer and tried to figure out how to record a video of me singing, so later I could go back to it. (You know, later, like when I'm not in the middle of feeding one child and ignoring another.) It seemed like a great idea. But then, when I finally got the video working, I had lost the song. And just as I think it might be coming back to me, Elijah runs in--rice cake all over his face. That's all I needed to lose the song for good.

So, instead of a lyrically and tone-fully creative piece of music, I now had a song that was almost the opposite. And because the taping of it became somewhat funny to me, I thought I would share it with you. Please, do be kind. Singing solo (especially while sick) is not something I usually do in front of lots of people for fear of embarrassment, but I thought it was worth sharing because it made me laugh. I am sure there are a lot of other mothers out there who can relate to having what seems like a great plan quickly dissolve into nothing more than a silly waste of time. Oh, the best laid plans of mice and men!!

Here's the link to the video:
singing with preschoolers is so difficult

(Have you had any plans lately that went awry?)

My Enemy, the Germ

2010-11-12T13:17:00.000-08:00

It's that time of year again that sickness abounds in all houses with occupants under the age of 18. This is not law, but it is a somewhat standard occurrence. Blame the public sharing of germs and the growing body. I was told that there was a positive correlation between increase of children and increase of sickness in the home. I laughed at such a hypothesis. What once was laughter is now mourning at my third week of illness running rampant in the house. Be gone you beasts of ruin and despair!!! It is especially frustrating when I am the one with the disease, as it means next to nothing is done in the house. The dishes are not clean. Fresh meals are not prepared (which means, in turn, that the fresh produce that I bought a day before falling ill is now in danger of molding in the fridge). Laundry is not done, and children are most assuredly not given baths.

The germ is not just an enemy to the body, it is an enemy to the whole house. This tiny, miniscule, not-even-visible-with-our-own-eyes, microorganism is capable of rendering my entire house, for days if not weeks on end, a disaster site.

You know that it's true. You have seen it yourself, in your own homes. And there is no way to truly avoid it. The germ mocks us in our despair. We can stay home, devoid of all social life and engagement with the outside world. Keeping ourselves safe from any disease-carrying biped. But in reality, the germ is laughing--he has won without even touching us. We are paralyzed in fear of contact. And once we realize that staying indoors all winter is not an even semi-suitable option, we open the seal of our immunity and leave an entrance for disease. It may not happen right away. Let's be realistic, the germ is a busy organism. He has places to go, people to destroy. You will have to wait, careful of your every move, desperately trying to avoid contact. And when, at last, he is at the entrance of your cellular door, you will have no choice but to give in and let disaster take hold.

It is upsetting, is it not? But do not let such a small thing bring a damper to your mood! Enjoy yourself, while you can. And know that in the end, you will win against that great evildoer, germ. You will fight back. And you will win. It just might take you a while to clean up the mess afterwards.

"Rest for Me" To the tune of "Respect" by Aretha Franklin

2010-11-08T11:31:00.000-08:00

After both kids kept me up last night, I found myself changing the lyrics of the song Respect into something a little more applicable to my day today.... Rest. Boy I need it. You know I want it.

So anyway, here's just something to make you laugh. You can sing it to yourself next time the kids are wearing you down! (Or, of course, you can just take the idea and change it to whatever circumstance is more applicable to you right now.)

(oo) What I want

(oo) Baby, you got it

(oo) What I need

(oo) You got more of it

(oo) All I’m askin’Is for a little rest when I’m at home (just a little bit)

Hey children (just a little bit) when we’re at home

(just a little bit) kiddos (just a little bit)

I ain’t gonna sleep all the day long

Ain’t gonna be gone (oo) far too long (oo)

All I’m askin’ (oo)

Is for a little rest when I’m at home (just a little bit)

Children (just a little bit) when we’re at home (just a little bit)

Yeah (just a little bit)

Baby you’ll sleep, but your brother won’t

I need some rest, even one eye closed

Just give me a little down time

When I’m at home (just a, just a, just a, just a)

Yeah kids (just a, just a, just a, just a, just a)

When we’re at home (just a little bit)

Yeah (just a little bit)

----instrumental break----

Oooh, your smiles are

Sweeter than honey.

But I can’t stand it

when you’re whiney.

All I want you to do (oo) for me

Is give me some rest when we’re home (rest, rest, rest, rest)

Yeah kiddos (rest, rest, rest, rest)

Give it to me (rest, just a little bit)

Now and then (just as little bit)

R-E-S-T for me

Find out how great it’d be

R-E-S-T for me

Things would be better--you’ll see

Oh (give it to me, give it to me, give it to me, give it to me)

A little rest (give it to me, give it to me, give it to me, give it to me)

Woah, children (just a little bit)

A little rest (just a little bit)

I get tired (just a little bit)

Keep on tryin’ (just a little bit)

You’re runnin’ out of time outs (just a little bit)

And I ain’t lyin’ (just a little bit)

(rest, rest, rest, rest) for me

When we’re at home (just sometimes)

Or you might walk in (rest for me, just a little bit)

And find I’m hidin’ (just a little bit)

Somewhere quiet (just a little bit)

Just to find a little rest (just a little bit)

Surprised by a challenge

2010-11-06T11:08:00.000-07:00

Today I was challenged. So often in my daily routine I avoid things that would pull me out of my comfort zone. It's not something that I always consciously do. But, today when faced with a challenge, I realized how much I distance myself from such things. I'm not talking here about "challenges" like "let's see who can run to the end of the sidewalk first"--I'm talking about something that would actually challenge you. Something that would stretch you so much that it might even make your hands sweat or your heart rate increase. Something that would make you writhe inside, so much so that you want to run away and hide.

I experienced that kind of challenge today. It took me by surprise, actually. I had no idea, but the thought of sliding down a dark, enclosed, curvy tube, headed straight for 8 feet of water at the bottom, terrifies me. I hadn't expected to be so scared. I love slides. I also love water. And heights don't bother me all that much--I have skydived 13 times in the past. Perhaps it was the fact that the slide was enclosed, and upon peering in, all I could see was darkness. Or the fact that I'd be flying into water at the bottom--with only a nano-seconds warning.

Whatever the reasons were, I was terrified. But, like being in grade school all over again, I was being pushed to do it. Just another reminder of why I hated middle school and high school. So much peer pressure to do things I'd just as well not. But I couldn't cop out--it's only a water slide, right?? I kept thinking to myself, "no big deal....no big deal...this is really no big deal." I repeated that over and over in my head, trying to tell my mind it was fine, all the while my heart rate was skyrocketing. My hands were getting clammy. I realized that this was the first time in a long time that I was really being challenged. And I didn't like it. In fact, the first time, I just walked right down the stairs and refused to do it. But of course, pleads are hard to ignore.

So, after an extended period of pleading and prodding, I slowly, somewhat begrudgingly, traipsed up the windy stairs to the top of the slide once more. I had a plan. It couldn't be more than ten seconds, the whole thing, right? I could definitely hold my breath that long. Just close my eyes, hold my nose, and go. No looking back. I can do this.

And I did. I'm not about to tell you it was less scary than I made it out to be. While I might have made it to the bottom safe and sound, those few seconds winding inside that dark enclosure was scary for sure. I think I felt the speed of the fall as much as I felt my heart pounding. And afterwards, I think I needed five minutes just to recuperate.

Now, for some of you, that kind of thing is no big deal--dark slides, landing in water, no biggie. But for me, it took some guts. I met that challenge head on and I feel like my character has grown on account of it. I'm not saying I want a challenge like that every day, but I am thankful for it. I did it!! And now, back to life as it was before.....

Prerogatives

2010-11-05T11:19:00.000-07:00

We were talking about prerogatives in our house today, if only briefly. My husband handed me a dirty dish and asked me to put it into the sink. As I took it from him to do so, I firmly said, "No."

He mentioned something to me about how I like to say one thing and do another. I told him that was my prerogative. To which he replies, "I'm a physicist: [therefore] I don't have to wear matching colors. You're a woman; [therefore] you don't have to do what you say [you will do]."

Yes, exactly.

We all live with certain prerogatives, don't we? The dictionary calls them "exclusive or special rights, powers or privileges." I'm not sure who ever told me that I could have those special rights, but I do so firmly believe I am entitled to them.

For example, I work a couple of hours a week watching children for parents who are exercising. We have a big play area for the kids, one area for bigger kids, and another area for babies and infants who aren't yet walking. The kids aren't supposed to have food while they're there, and yet, my son has a special medical condition that necessitates his eating snacks, somewhat often. And, as it's my prerogative, I give my child food, much to the chagrin of the other children. At times, some of the other children will gather around him, telling me things like, "I'm hungry! I need a snack.... please.... I'm really hungry.... why does HE get one....??" Not fair. So not fair.

You might think this is an acceptable circumstance, and maybe it is, but it does make me think a lot about our prerogatives. Sometimes it's downright funny what we think we are entitled to. Like Shania Twain's song, "The best thing about being a woman, is the prerogative to have a little fun...."

Most of the prerogatives we live by we probably don't even realize have. Like when my husband pointed out that because I'm a woman my actions and words don't have to line up. He was really only joking when he said it, but when I think about it, there is some truth to it.... there is a part of me that feels like I get to be more fickle because I'm a woman. It's pretty ridiculous. But it's true.

And it's also true that deep down inside, I feel like my husband has an excuse for not knowing how to dress.... he's a physicist. Isn't that his prerogative...??

Making Food

2010-11-03T10:50:00.000-07:00

I really like to bake. I can't say everything I make is beautiful, but most of it tastes pretty fantastic. And I'm working on the aesthetic part. Sometimes I'll make the same thing for weeks in a row until I feel like I can make it look good. Or at least, good enough for other people to see it.

I have a problem, though, because I'm really trying to lose some of these baby pounds. This wouldn't be a problem if there were lots of people in my house to consume the baked goods I am so frequently making. As it is, there are only four of us. And, one of those four doesn't even have teeth yet. So, I am often forced to eat what I've made. Yes, forced. All that food can't go to waste; I surely can't let it mold on my counter. I do freeze quite a bit, but there's only so much room in my freezer. An easy solution would be to bake less. But I can't seem to manage that. I must bake. It's almost therapeutic. When the kids are stressing me out, I just want to make something and have the kitchen smell like delicious-ness. Even just the smell of comfort food can bring calm in times of stress.

I am left with a dilemma. It's like this: can't live with the baked goods; can't live without making them.

In my mind, I envision the perfect solution......

Here in my home, I am just putting a delicious pie into the oven. Or two. Maybe Apple. It's the season for apple pies. While it's in the oven, I prepare my sign. "Uber-delicious, melt in your mouth, make your taste buds sing, fresh-out-of-the-oven apple pie inside." When the timer says five minutes left on the pie, I take my sign outside and plant it right in front of the house. At the door, I put a sign, "Entrance fee: $5." The table is prepared with plates and forks, even cups with warm apple cider.

Enter: guests. Here they come.... every car that innocently drives down my street can't help but pull over at the thought of warm gooey apple pie. And as soon as they open the door, the smell is like a magnet pulling them in. "Five dollars? What?..... Oh well, I can't turn back now. That smell is calling to me!"

And so they eat. Every last piece. I take down my sign, say goodbye, and begin to clean up.

Problem solved. Pie is gone. And, as a bonus, I have some cash to boot. Cash I will probably spend on the next baked item to come out of my oven. Whatever it may be.

If only it were that easy.

Logic from a three year old

2010-10-31T21:29:00.000-07:00

Our son recently turned three and we are so very proud of him. He's a quick learner and loves to study his surroundings. It's fun to see how his mind works. Today we got a taste of his great logic.

He and I have been listening to the Toy Story 2 soundtrack lately. One of his friends was "Jesse" (the yodeling cowgirl) for Halloween and I couldn't get the "Woody's Roundup" song out of my head after seeing her. So, it only seemed right to play the entire soundtrack so I wouldn't just have that one song in my head.

This morning, I saw my son sitting on the coffee table in front of the CD player, hands folded in his lap, listening intently as Sarah McLachlan sang "When she loved me." He seemed to be soaking up every word of the lyrics. Minutes later, he ran out of the room and I could hear him say, somewhat solemnly, to my husband, "When somebody loved me, everything was beautiful." To which my husband said, "I love you!"

And my three year old replied, with a joy and lightness in his voice like he really believed that suddenly it was true: "Everything is beautiful now!"

Playing Games

2010-10-29T12:43:00.000-07:00

I didn't realize it growing up, but I love to play games. In my childhood home, we almost never had all the pieces to any game. Those that we did have all the pieces for, we seldom played. And, when we did play, it was more for the time together than for the thrill of the game. I remember that we used to spend hours playing monopoly--just trying to get as much money as we could. The first round was always the round to just get money. No one would even think of buying a property. Not because we were trying to quell the urge, but because we truly had no desire to do such a thing.

Then I played Monopoly for the first time with my husband. On his first turn, he bought a property. I was aghast. I was so shocked that I couldn't help but let out an audible gasp. He looked up at me, perplexed.

In the last four years of my marriage, I have learned to play games for the thrill and competition of playing them. It has awakened in me a passion for the activity, but it has equally awakened in me an anger of losing. It's not that I hate to lose. Once. Or maybe twice. But when I start losing often, I get pretty angry. I get so angry, that I struggle to have normal conversations. My face even begins to contort into an evil grimace.... If you saw me, you might think I was just messing around. But really, inside, I feel like a steaming kettle about to burst.

But, you know that phrase, "if you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen"? Basically it speaks to the idea of keeping yourself from situations that you can't really handle. I've taken that phrase to heart when it comes to playing games. I try very hard to keep myself from getting really angry. And how do I do that? Simple. Make sure I don't lose too often. Ahhhh.... But how do I do THAT?

I pick carefully the games that I am willing to play with my husband. With other people, I am not necessarily so picky. But when you are married to an uber-smart person, you must take certain steps to assure yourself of not feeling like a dummy all the time. This particularly applies when playing games. So, these are some things that I consider when choosing games I will play with my husband:

1) The game MUST have some element of chance. It cannot be entirely strategy-based.
2) Along the lines of number 1, but more specific: It cannot be chess. I will never play chess with my husband.
3) It cannot be something I know he is already good at, or has already practiced. I will first play with someone else.
4) I will not play it if I have recently had consecutive losses when playing the game with him.
5) The more luck-based the game, the happier I am when I'm playing it.

There you have it. My best means for staying away from the temptation of an evil rage. It doesn't always work, but I think it keeps me generally sane. I did go to bed angry the other night because he killed me in a game, but, it was really my own fault. I didn't abide by my own rules; in this case, rule #3. But don't worry. While he's working this weekend, I'll make sure to practice up on my own so next time the playing field is more equal....

Pack Rat vs. Hopeful

2010-10-26T13:19:00.000-07:00

I feel like I am trying to organize our house every single day. In every room I look, there are things that are out of place, or don't really have a place at all. It makes me want to do a major reorganization. But then as soon as I start, I realize that it's too big a job for the little amount of time I have. (Or, too ridiculous an idea, with children who would make a disaster of the attempt.)

And as I look at all these things I would like to organize and find a place for, I sometimes think to myself, "if only you weren't such a pack rat, you wouldn't have so much to reorganize." I have so many books, scraps of materials, random materials for potential crafts..... Is it that I am a pack rat with these items, or could it instead be said that I am a hopeful person? A person who is hopeful that I could one day find time to reread the books I thought worthy enough to keep after college. A person who is hopeful that some day I could make something beautiful or useful out of the many boxes of scrap material I have. A person who is hopeful that I will some day have time to craft something interesting out of the various materials I've collected over the years.

Though, I suppose it doesn't really matter to the casual house guest what the reasoning is behind my clutter. Sadly enough. If only I could welcome people to my home saying, "Hello! So glad you're here! Please note that my house is extremely cluttered because of all the things I'd like to eventually do with the various items scattered within." Or, I could put a sign in front of the door, "Please excuse the mess. Wishful thinker lives here."

There are times when I think that a house fire is the only real solution to the whole problem. Granted, I don't actually want my house to catch on fire--for a plethora of reasons. It merely seemed like an easy solution to these problems. It would, however, bring other problems--much larger--and so this is not a solution I would recommend to anyone, myself included. The reality is, there is no easy fix to this situation. Unless..... Yes, the only easy fix is that one of those home TV shows comes and does all the organizing for me. That's about the only good solution I can think of.

Probationary Friends

2010-10-22T11:21:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow is an important anniversary for my husband and me. It is not our wedding anniversary, or the day we met. Nor is it the day we got engaged. It's not any of those semi-normal days of remembering in a relationship. It is, instead, the day of remembering on October 23rd, year 2004*, that we were no longer "probationary friends." The restrictions were lifted and we were allowed to take that next step.... dating.

Now, truth be told, we had already dated. That was part of the problem. I had already "gone out with him" (albeit, when I was half -the-world away in New Zealand). Then I promptly discarded him after the two-month trial was over. (To that date, I had consistently broken up with my boyfriends after two months.) There had been so many ups and downs in the two years since we had met that he didn't even feel we were able to start back at friends--we had to be "probationary friends."

It is probably the curse of the genius that they need to give a term to every idea in their universe. My poor on-again-off-again boyfriend/friend/enemy had to make a term for what was going on. Obviously I had already broken his heart once before, but just so everyone was clear that he wasn't just opening himself up to let it happen again, he defined what was taking place: probation. Examination. Evaluation. Should I pass the test and be considered a friend, only then was it possible to move on to more-than friends.

I understood his need to do that. I really did. I had been a fickle and flirty freshman when he met me, and there were things I said and did that weren't so nice. I was happy for a chance to redeem myself. I had realized, after some time, that he actually was a pretty amazing guy and I didn't really want to let him go. This revelation came as a great surprise to me, since I had previously written a long list defining the reasons why I could never be in a relationship with such a man. In fact, I sent him this list; just so that he knew why he was doomed to failure. Yes. I did. And so you see why we needed to be probationary friends.

But, praise God, I passed the test! I was let off probation, and today I am the wife of a very forgiving man. Tomorrow I celebrate, because we are no longer probationary friends.

*I had previously written 2005, but that was definitely wrong..... :-P

Pumpkin Rolls

2010-10-21T12:56:00.000-07:00

As I've mentioned before, I love pumpkin. And pumpkin knot rolls don't last long in our house. I always double the batch and put half in the freezer. Pull one out any time you'd like, zap it in the microwave for 10 seconds (or more, depending on your microwave), and tada! Tastes like it just came out of the oven.

I used to buy Challah bread at our local Whole Foods in Cambridge, and these rolls remind me a lot of that Challah bread. Perfect outside, perfect inside....you can eat it by itself, or with just butter, or with anything you like. The perfect comfort food. I paired it last night with a bowl of Panera Bread broccoli cheddar soup. It was FANTASTIC! I'd recommend it. :) Here's the recipe for the rolls, and I've also included a step-by-step how-to if you want to make them but haven't made any kind of bread before. They're not hard, really. And if you look at my pictures, it will make it even easier. Don't be afraid! These rolls just melt in your mouth.

Pumpkin Knot Rolls

2 pkgs. active dry yeast

1c. warm milk (110-115 degrees)

1/3c. butter, softened

1/2c. sugar

1c. canned pumpkin

3 eggs (2 + 1)

1 1/2tsp. salt

5 1/2-6c. flour

1 T cold water

In a mixing bowl, dissolve yeast in warm milk. Add the butter, sugar, pumpkin, 2 eggs, salt and 3 cups flour. Beat until smooth. Stir in enough remaining flour to form a soft dough. Turn onto a lightly floured surface; knead until smooth and elastic, about 6-8 minutes. Place in a greased bowl, turning once to grease top. Cover and let rise in a warm place until doubled, about 1 hour. Punch dough down. Turn onto a lightly flour surface; divide in half. Shape each portion into 12 balls. Roll each ball into a 10 inch rope; tie into a knot and tuck ends under. Place 2 inches apart on greased baking sheets. Cover and let rise until doubled, about 30 minutes. In a small bowl, beat water and remaining egg. Brush over rolls. Bake at 350 degrees for 13-17 minutes or until golden brown. Remove from pans to wire rack. Yield: 2 dozen.

(In the pictures below, I doubled the recipe. Because I doubled the recipe, I added the extra flour by hand in the beginning of the kneading process. If your mixer can handle doing that by itself, start with number 3.)

Fall pancakes

2010-10-20T07:21:00.000-07:00

Hello, Fall! How I love thee. Let me count the ways....

No, not really. I'm not going to list the reasons I love Fall. There are too many to remember at any given time. But, I definitely love the seasonal produce, not least of which being pumpkins and apples. I don't buy fresh pumpkins to use in recipes, but I do love the fact that canned pumpkin is readily available.

Last night I made breakfast for dinner and tried out a recipe for pumpkin pancakes. I changed the recipe to suite my taste and they were absolutely delicious! I hope you'll make some of your own. :)

First make the yummy sauce:
In a heavy saucepan, cook 1/2c. butter, cubed, on medium heat until golden brown. Stir occasionally. Add 1/4c. maple syrup, 1/2tsp. ground cinnamon and 1/4tsp. nutmeg (and 1/2c. toasted pecans if desired).

Remove from heat and set aside while you make the pancakes. :)

Pumpkin Apple pancakes

In a large bowl, combine:
3c. flour
1/4c. packed brown sugar
4 TBS. baking powder
2 tsp. salt

In a medium bowl, whisk together:
4 eggs
2 2/3c. 2% milk
1 can pumpkin
1c. ricotta cheese
1 medium apple, chopped into small pieces

Combine flour mixture and pumpkin mixture, just until mixed. Add 1/4c. to 1/2c. of water if mixture seems too thick--I needed to do this. (it will rise quite a bit on the skillet, so be warned!)

Drop the batter onto a hot skillet until bubbles form on the top and some begin to pop. Turn pancakes over, and cook until second side is golden brown. Serve with maple butter.

They are scrumptious! And very moist too. Well worth the extra effort. :D

Steelers Country

2010-10-17T16:26:00.000-07:00

I was a woman on a mission today in Pittsburgh. I was just traveling through between Pennsylvania and Indiana. It was the return trip on a wonderful and long vacation. My son, though, was weary from the traveling we'd already accomplished in the past weeks and so his patience for staying in his confined space was stretching thin. Someone had lent us a car DVD player, but he'd already watched the movies of interest three or more times, and the 5+ movies he hadn't watched, he refused to let me even put in the DVD player. He was sure he wouldn't like them based on their covers--he did NOT want an animal movie. (The majority of children's movies are animal movies I've recently realized, much to my disappointment.) A brilliant friend suggested finding a movie at a Red Box in Pittsburgh while we were there, and bringing it on the road with us to help pass the hours go come.

And so, I was on a mission. The first Red Box, on my way to the Turnpike, didn't seem to be working properly and was absolutely useless to a person actually wanting to rent a DVD. But, I was determined to make the ride more pleasant for everyone by getting my son a new movie. So, I trudged inside and waited in line, just to ask the cashier where I could find another Red Box nearby. Of course, this one was miles down the road. Was it worth going out of my way, and possibly getting lost? With a whimpering son in the car, yes, I decided it was worth it.

So, after a couple of wrong turns, I found the other Red Box....that had seemingly fewer choices (though, with the benefit of being able to actually rent the one I picked). At last! We were ready to complete our journey. First I just had to figure out how to get to the Turnpike.

And suddenly, my eyes were opened. I know my Pittsburgh-ian friend had noted earlier in the morning that there was a Steelers game today, but it was an unimportant, passing, comment as far as I was concerned. Yet now, as I looked around me in the Giant Eagle parking lot, I realized something I hadn't before: I was in Steelers Country. I'd heard the phrase before, but it made me chuckle. This time, it felt like a real place. It wasn't an idea; it was an actual place.

The somewhat "elderly" couple who I asked for directions were fully outfitted in coordinating Steelers coats. And, when the woman came closer to my car, I realized that she had completed her ensemble with pumpkin earrings that had the Steelers logo in the center.

Everywhere I looked were shirts, hats, coats, flags, signs, painted cars....

I had this urge to hop out of the car and start following people around with a notepad. My anthropology side came out like a lion and I wanted to do an ethnography of Steelers Country. Too bad that couldn't really happen for oh so many reasons.

But I did leave Pittsburgh with the sense that there was something big going on there that couldn't be explained by just a football game. A way of living that was somewhat foreign to me...but intriguing all the same.

"Good Looking"

2010-10-10T19:31:00.000-07:00

Elijah asked me tonight to help him find a track from a bulldozer that had fallen off for probably the tenth time. It was just before bed, pajamas on, sleepy, but awake enough to know he deeply wanted the toy in bed with him--with all its parts attached.

Elijah: Will you help me find the track, mommy?
Me: Well....
Elijah: You are....(struggles here due to sleepiness) good looking....
(Me--can't help but smile at his mistake and wishes he really said what it sounded like he said!)
Elijah (stealing my delight almost as quickly as it came): I mean, you are a good finder, mommy. A very good finder. You can find it.

For a moment there I felt a tingling joy--my toddler thinks I'm good looking! Oh well. I guess being a good finder will do for now. :) You can't be good at everything!

***Okay, so when I went to re-write this conversation to post, I couldn't remember exactly what Elijah had said to me, but I knew it made me think "you're good looking". Today, he did the same thing to my brother, so I now remember exactly what he said. This is actually how it came out:

Elijah: You are a good looking girl.
<<Emphasis on "looking" of course. But, that's why he rephrased his comment and said instead that I was a good finder. He is really so funny!>>

Today he said the same thing to my brother: "You are a good looking guy." If only he realized what it sounded like he was saying!! :-D (He's too young to really know what that phrase means, though.)

Happy Jack-o-lanterns

2010-10-09T19:51:00.000-07:00

My Taste of Home catalog last month had an idea for fun "jack-o-lanterns" that were made of tissue paper and glass jars. I thought it was a brilliant idea, but I wanted to wait until I was with my adorable and crafty nieces to try such a project. (It's always more fun crafting with company!!)

So, today was the day. It went even better than I anticipated. I'm encouraging all of you to make some of your own! The process is fun, and the finished product is fantastic too!

All you need is Mod Podge (or another glue and selant), tissue paper, glass jars and some enthusiasm for the arts! :) First cover your jar with a good layer of Mod Podge, then put your tissue paper over it, then put another layer of Mod Podge to finish it off. You can get as detailed and fancy as you like, or keep it simple! You can add a ribbon on the top for extra embelishment too if you'd like. :) We added faces to many of ours, which was super fun. Just put them on top of that outer layer of Mod Podge, and add another layer on top once you've got them in the right places.

Then, after they dry, put a tea candle in them. Delightful!! They are beautiful to look at sitting in the windowsill on a quiet evening.

And do realize that this is a project for any age. I can testify that today there was an almost-60 year old (don't tell her I said that.....!!), a 26 year old, a 6 year old, and two 3 year olds..... all having an absolute blast. You can do it too!! For small children, just put a layer of Mod Podge on the jar, and give them strips of various colors--they decorated them however they want. It's terrific.

I will definitely do this again some time. Too bad we don't need an infinite supply of silly face lanterns!

So, go ahead, make some of your own!!

Anxiety

2010-10-07T19:42:00.000-07:00

I was five years old when Danny was born; he is my youngest brother. He has Down Syndrome. I spent a lot of time taking care of him when I was younger and loved almost every moment of it. There were definitely times of frustration when he'd get stubborn and refuse to do what he was supposed to, or when I couldn't do things I wanted to on account of having to take care of him. Beyond frustration, there were also times of anxiety. Danny has this problem with disappearing. No, not like a magician, more like a leaf tossed into a river bed, drifting downstream and getting lost in the glitter of the moving water.

There are more stories than I can remember of him disappearing--sometimes in the evening at a carnival, sometimes in the afternoon when he's supposed to be doing chores, sometimes at three in the morning when our mother would be arriving home from work. Some of the stories are really funny. Some of them are tragic. All of them are scary, to varying degrees. It's always scary to think that you've lost someone you love--not knowing when or if you'll find them. Or what state they will be in when you do.

Today I had promised to take Danny to get a haircut. Well, to be honest, I had promised him on Sunday to take him to get a haircut "tomorrow." Don't you hate how "tomorrow" keeps getting pushed off....one day after another...? I finally kept my promise and took him today. He loved getting his haircut. He's so mature. He's twenty-one now and wants everyone to know how independent he is. He did a great job of filling out the client sheet when he first arrived. He was chatty with the hairdresser. Things were going really well.

After his haircut, we headed out of the mall, but we had parked outside a department store. On the way to the car, we passed some great sales on kids clothes. I am rarely out in a store that sells kids clothes, let alone able to get a moment to look at them. Another brother had taken my toddler, so I was free as a bird with just a wiggly infant. Wahoo!! Danny told me he had to use the restroom and assured me many times that he knew just where it was. I told him he could find me right in that same area when he was done.

While he assured me that he knew where the restroom was, I had failed to ask him if he knew just where we were at that very moment.... So, half an hour later, baby was crying, ready to eat, and I was freaking out. Where in the world was he!?!?!?

Probably more than an hour later, thanks to helpful mall customers and the mall police, I was at last reunited with my brother--both of us extremely worn out from the stress of the entire situation. We had a great conversation on the way home about how "people make mistakes" (he reminded me of this again and again).

What's really amazing to me is that after at least 15 years of these kinds of situations, the anxiety is never less. I am never less nervous when I loose him--regardless of the fact that it's happened probably fifty times or more. I am always just as scared, just as panicky. Terrible thoughts still go through my head of what might happen to him or who might take advantage of him. You'd think I'd get more used to it, but I don't.

The reality is, when the people you love go missing, it's terrifying. And that's all there is to it.

Looking Pretty

2010-10-04T07:49:00.000-07:00

Sometimes as parents, we do things with or for our kids so other people will think we're good parents. I know, it's terrible. Even sinful. Yet, true. So very true. There are even times when, after failing to do something impressive, we spend time regretting it--thinking about all the recognition we could have gotten if we had only done that thing.

Okay, maybe I'm the only one who does this. Or, maybe I'm the only one who would admit to doing this....

In contrast, there are times when it seems like I'm trying to impress, and really I'm just trying to keep my sanity. People who aren't parents don't truly understand the lengths to which we must go in order to stay sane--or at least, to have an appearance of sanity.

People are often commenting about how beautiful my six month old is. And they are super impressed with the fact that I always have her hair in a cute ponytail on the top of her head. I imagine they think I'm going to great lengths to make her look that much more beautiful. But in truth, I'm just trying to keep my sanity.

My son was born with a very visible cowlick on the top left of his head--near the start of his hairline above the forehead. My daughter, born 2 1/2 years later, has the exact same cowlick. I've struggled with how to deal with my son's, but it's gotten even more difficult to deal with my daugther's. She's only six months old, but hair is at least five inches long on the top of her head. This presents an interesting pattern on the top of her head. Like a tumultuous storm tossing waves in the ocean.

This is why I always have her hair in a ponytail when we leave the house. Not because I am an amazing mother who wants to make sure her daughter always looks her best, no, because I will go crazy if I have to look at that storm all day long.

Conflicted

2010-09-30T20:03:00.000-07:00

I hate centipedes. I really do. The thought of them gives me shivers down my spine. Every last one of those little squirming legs just makes me want to run as fast and as far as I possiblly can in the opposite direction.

Our laundry is in our basement, much to my disappointment. This might not be as big a deal if we had one of those lovely "finished" basements--you know the ones that feel more like a part of your house than a part of a dungeon--but then, if we did have a "finished" basement, we would probably have a house new enough that the laundry wouldn't be down there anyway. But alas, I digress.... as usual.

I try to keep the area as free from small scary creatures as I can, but there are always spiderwebs and centipedes that I can't keep up with. I generally prefer going down there during the day to lessen my encounters with said scary creatures. But tonight I was really trying to get some wash done, so I slowly crept downstairs, trying as hard as I could to keep my eyes peeled for any, ANY, movement.

Then I saw it--not a centipede or a daddy-long-leg, like my usual findings--but a large black spider. Now spiders don't usually upset me all that much. They're way less scary than centipedes, I think. But this one, well, it's size got me to feeling like I didn't really want to be standing a foot away from it loading the clothes into the washer.

So, of course, I did what any woman would do. I yelled for the man of the house.

Down came my chivalrous knight in shining armor, and he captured the enemy in one swift encounter. But as he took it upstairs, I suddenly felt conflicted.

Would this spider, left to live downstairs (instead of taken outside, where I had originally banished him), actually kill those most-evil of creatures? Would he actually help me in my fight against the centipede?

Suddenly I was unsure of my decision... Which did I like less--the idea of a large spider lurking right by where I do the laundry, or the idea that there might be more centipedes scurrying around than would otherwise if it were kept alive.

Decisions, decisions. Ultimately, I opted to stick with my original thought. Outside he was taken, hopefully to find another home. Further from mine. I do wish I could fight this centipede war with an ally a little less frightening than a large spider....

Really, did I do that??

2010-09-29T20:04:00.000-07:00

Do you ever look back at your life, a little bit shocked at things you remember doing? Like, "Really?? I did that?? I can't ever imagine myself doing that..." It's amazing how we change. Our perceptions of the world and the limits we put on ourselves vary so much depending on the factors affecting us at any given moment.

I guess the lack of an ipod or other such nifty device means I actually have to figure out what to do with my mind when I'm at the gym--sadly I can't just let my mind drift into musical nonthought....that wonderful mental absence that I wish I could recreate but can't seem to without the help of some technical device....

Anyway, I was thinking, (as I sat there at the weight machines feeling like everyone else at the Y knew I had no idea what I was doing), or more accurately, remembering, some of those "really??" moments...

I thought you might get a chuckle out of some of the ones I remembered....

*Walking through the mall in high school with a "Libby-terian Party: Libby for President!" poster getting pictures with anyone who would pay me any mind.... This was, of course, a class project of some sorts. One I'm sure I took way out of hand. And it didn't help that I had dyed my hair pink at the time.

*Dumping a plate full of food on someone's head my freshman year of college. You don't believe it? Neither do I.... What kind of person am I!?!?! This guy was totally unassuming, just sitting behind me at another table... I knew him a little bit, but I'm not sure he ever talked to me much after that. (I wonder why--hmm.) What in the world would possess a person to do such a thing??

*Going out with someone in high school who not only couldn't use grammar properly, but also wanted to be a television evangelist. I even thought I wanted to marry him. Say WHAT?! I know what you're thinking--I was probably drugged. And you're probably right.... (No, not really. But seriously, those are about the two worst things to be against a guy--can't speak AND wants to be a tv preacher?? EEK!)

*No lie: I used to walk behind this guy in fifth grade who I had a crush on when we had "ACE" at the end of the school day ("Aerobic Conditioning Exercise"). We had to walk around the field over and over again until the buses got there to take us home. I have no idea how much time it actually was generally, but I do know that pretty much the entire time we circled the fields, I would walk behind this guy and kick his calves. Over and over and over again. Oh, I'm sure he was bruised. And I'm not sure why he never turned around and tackled me to the ground.

Okay, time's up for reminiscing. For now. Perhaps we'll continue this again some time... Just to remind everyone how far I've come. ;-P

Bubber

2010-09-27T19:48:00.000-07:00

My son has been playing with a trial-size of Playdoh for months now. He got it at a birthday party and loved it. Sadly, I have consistently forgotten to get him more. (Which is especially sad when I am probably at Walmart twice a week or more.....)

Without knowing this, my mother-in-law offered to get him something called Bubber for his third birthday (last week). Bubber sounded like a great solution to my failure to increase our Playdoh supply. It was supposed to be a cross between Playdoh and Styrofoam...or something like that. I can't quite remember the description; all I remember thinking is, "sounds PERFECT!"

I think a part of the description, though, should have included something like "Warning: User must have extremely active imagination for ultimate enjoyment of product."

Or even better: "Warning! If you want to make things that actually resemble something real, use another product!"

In my head, this is what I was imagining after my countless failed attempts at making recognizable objects....

Although, I must say that honestly, I asked Elijah to pose for this, so you can't take it all too seriously. I was extremely frustrated by my inability to make things, but he was having a great time waiting patiently for me; all the while squeezing Bubber between his fingers. This is a more accurate picture of what was going on:

Thanks, Grandma, for a gift he is surely enjoying!!

Quick Note on Design

2010-09-25T21:32:00.000-07:00

I decided there was far too much color on my blog. There still is; yes, I know. But until I can find some knowledgeable compassionate person willing to help such a blogger-ignorant sole as myself, it will continue to be this crazy.*

*Please, if you know someone who can help me figure out this whole website design thing, I'd greatly appreciate you directing him/her my way....Obviously I am in need of some help.

running out of time

2010-09-25T18:55:00.000-07:00

Do you ever feel like you're running out of time?

Imagine:

You're running in a scary, dark tunnel. Every sound around you sounds terrifying and evil--like whatever its source, it's about to jump at you and tear you to pieces. If only, if only, you could get to the end. That light, that beautiful light. You're running; faster than you ever thought you could run.... You tell yourself, Al-most--there as you're panting for breath.... Then finally, at last, you reach the end--still running, into the light.

Oh, but it's raining. Things aren't that great on the outside either.

That's pretty much how I felt the other day when I spent THREE HOURS making gnocchi. Dinner time came and went. Then, when the gnocchi was finally ready, it wasn't even that spectacular. You'd think such a marathon would merit a great finish. Right? Oh well.

So, I decided to draw a picture of just the funny thought I had in my head--running out of "time". :)

renovation

2010-09-25T15:10:00.000-07:00

In hopes of renovating my process of cooking (referring to my last post), I decided on Friday to find a meal that was both simple and fast. Hopefully this would prevent tragedies like the night before...... Loved the idea of gnocchi, but not the extensive prep time. I found this recipe and decided to try it:

Pan-Fried Lemon Ricotta Gnocchi

Should you read the article that precedes the recipe, I would mention here that I don't recommend going about finding good recipes in the same fashion. For a lot of reasons. If you need a list of them, feel free to ask me. That said, the recipe is FANTASTIC! Super duper easy and fast too. My 3 year old helped make it, and he loved eating it all the more!

As usual, my result wasn't nearly as beautiful looking, but it was definitely amazing to taste. It was a wonderful light dinner before going to a show at the college. Delish!

betrayal

2010-09-23T21:10:00.000-07:00

Have you ever felt like you were betrayed? Either by someone or something...? I find that I sometimes put it on myself--I expect something, but then when I get a different outcome, I feel cheated and angry. And other times I am just being far too naive and let people cheat me--like, when about 8 months ago a young girl and her "brother", along with her "father" came for a "fundraiser" for "cheerleading." (Notice the parentheses....????) Right. Well, I was so excited to help them since I had done so many fundraisers myself, being in band and all, in Middle School and High School. And even though I RARELY buy fun things just for me (since we don't really have the money to do that kind of thing), I thought I would make their day by giving them $10 for a candle. Oh the joy it brought me knowing I could help them out!

And oh, the anger I still feel at having been cheated out of my ten dollars!! Okay, so, I suppose there's still time for them to get that candle to me.... I mean, it's only been EIGHT months.... I was only very pregnant when they brought it and now have a SIX MONTH OLD DAUGHTER.... Right... Guess I shouldn't assume things.....

But anyway, I was feeling betrayed this evening because I decided, for DH's and my 4th anniversary, to make a special meal. I had never had potato gnocchi before, but it looked super yummy and I was prepared. I had been eyeing the pictures for weeks now and making sure I had all the ingredients. I did a quick skim of the procedure and looked up what to do if you don't have a potato ricer on hand.... I felt so prepared. And seriously, I was actually starting to make the meal at 4:30(pm)--I almost never have my act together that early in the day. ;-P

"Simple Potato Gnocchi"

That's what it said. "Simple." Does that word mean something to you? I think I might have some inaccurate associations with that word because when I think "simple" and meal prep, I think, this won't cause me angst and make me wish I had never started this process at all. There certainly have been meals in my past that have made me feel that, but "simple," no, surely a dish that has the word "simple" as its first descriptor couldn't be such an entree. Nope.

And yet, there I was, at 7:30, still minutes away from getting the meal on the table, thinking to myself....

SIMPLE?!?! SIMPLE!?!?! Three hours later and you call that SIMPLE!!!??!?! My legs hurt from standing by the counter for the last three hours barely moving; my skin is down to its final layer because of how many gazillion times I had to wash potato off my hands; my counter is a mess and my sink is full of dishes that I won't have energy to wash until tomorrow; my children are ready for bed; my husband was ready for our anniversary dinner by candlelight over an our ago, and to top it off, I'm ANGRY that the recipe said SIMPLE!!

Okay, so, again, maybe it was MY fault. What was I thinking? I do have this problem with deciding to make new recipes on the worst of days, but seriously..... this is crazy. And of course, while in the middle of the process, I realized that it even warned me (in small font, of course) by saying something like "prep time: 2 hours"--which is an already woefully underestimated number as far as my culinary skills are concerned. As much as I want to be a good cook, I'm really not at all.

So, is the moral of the story "look before you leap"?? Is that it? Don't give money to strangers (duh...) and don't make recipes that say "simple" until you look at the prep time and know for sure it's going to be something amazing....?? Hmmm.. I think the real issue is me. How can you overcome your problems when you ARE the problem?

"chicken spackets"

2010-09-18T18:59:00.000-07:00

Tonight I made something that my husband coined "chicken spackets" (SPA-kets) and I figured I'd share it with all of you! I took my normal recipe for the inside of spanakopita, added boiled chicken, and put them into pastry puffs. Yum! I've decided that I could put anything into a "pocket" and my toddler would love it. We called them "spackets" because that was a combination of spanakopita and pocket--seemed to fit!

Here's what I did:

1) boil chicken on the stove until tender.

2) mix together 1 egg, 1 10oz. package thawed spinach, 1/2c. feta cheese, parsley, dill and oregano.

3) tear apart chicken and add to spinach mixture.

4) cut pastry sheet into four squares. place mixture into pocket and fold into a triangle. squeeze edges to keep filling inside.

5) bake at 350 degrees--maybe ten minutes?? check on them every five minutes, i'm not sure how long it really took! i was baking muffins at the same time.... :)

That's it right there with some yummy squash. I just cut the squash in half and put it on greased foil in a 400 degree oven. Half an hour later and it's finished! You can serve just like that--add salt, pepper and butter, then people can mix it all up in the shell itself. It's yummy AND easy! :D

"larry"

2010-09-17T11:54:00.000-07:00

While buckling baby Abby in the car to head to the library:

Elijah: "We will get another baby when she gets big."

Me: "What??"

Elijah: "When Abby gets big, we will get another little baby."

Me: "Oh, really?"

Elijah: "Yes. It will be Larry."

Me: "Larry??"

Elijah: "Not like the Veggie Tales Larry...."

Me: "A different Larry?"

Elijah: "Yes. A different one. Baby Larry."

Me: "Interesting....."

carrot soup

2010-09-16T18:40:00.000-07:00

I didn't think to post this until after I had dumped the contents of the leftover soup into a bag to freeze it, so, regretfully, I don't have a beautiful picture of this soup brimming on the stove. But, I figured I'd share the recipe with you nonetheless because it's super yummy and healthy too! :D My toddler loves it. Actually, I have quite a few pureed soup recipes that my son (and the rest of us) love. I'm sure I'll be sharing them with you as the colder months approach. They are my go-to on any day I'm feeling tired, or just want a warm bowl of yummy soup to end my day in comfort!

Here's one of two carrot soup recipes I have. This one tastes more heavily of carrot, so make sure you use good, sweet carrots that aren't too old. :)

4c. Chicken Broth

2c. water

1 package dry onion soup (or, one fresh onion with seasonings)

2lbs. Carrots scrubbed and sliced

dash of nutmeg

1/4c. peanut butter

2 Tbsp Worcestershire Sauce

dash of tobasco/ hot sauce (if you want--I didn't have any on hand to add)

Simmer all ingredients in a pot 15-30 min. (With the kids and all, I actually let mine sit for an hour or so--don't think it really matters...) Puree. Enjoy!!

I put what was left in a freezer bag for another time. This is something I love doing with our soups. On a really busy day, I can just take it out of the freezer--add some salad and bread and that's it! Dinner is served!

blank slate?

2010-09-15T18:36:00.000-07:00

It's a good thing I don't believe in tabula rasa..... you remember the concept from high school, right? "Blank Slate"...John Locke? Ring a bell?? Basically it's the idea that people are born as a blank slate and all of their attitudes and perceptions of the world come from how we nurture them--as though we are writing the language of their life on them.

Anyway, now that I've reminded you of what it means, I will say again that it's a good thing I don't believe in it. Because if I did, boy would I be in trouble. As a "stay at home mom" (not that I stay at home all day by any means!!!), I would surely be the cause of any problematic issues that my son has--seeing as how I am the foremost authority and teacher in his life.

If this were the case, then here are some things you could learn about me from my toddler:

1) I am extremely covetous.
2) I whine. A LOT.
3) I am not always good at sharing.
4) When I'm not in a good mood, I push people around.

Oh dear.... this doesn't bode well. I think these things actually could be said about me. :-P
This is a problem. Hmmm.... how about some things that definitely can't be said about me:

1) I definitely don't sit on top of other people just to see how they react.
2) I don't squeeze my food between my fingers and then wipe it all over the table.
3) I don't lift my shirt up and exhibit my belly button every time I get really excited.
4) I don't pick up lint off the floor and roll it in between my fingers for hours. (Yes, my child has OCD.)

Phew! Boy, I had myself scared there for a moment.
Tonight, Elijah refused to go to bed--tears streaming down his crinkled face--because he wanted his sister's blanket with him in bed. Of course, since she's only six months old, she really wouldn't have known the difference. But, on principle, we told him he couldn't have it. That certainly wasn't the answer he wanted to hear! I am glad to blame the Fall, and not me, for his extreme covetousness. ;-P (I do always love to point blame.)

mamas

2010-09-14T19:42:00.000-07:00

I was sent this via email from a friend and had to share it:

THE MAMA TEST

I was out walking with my 4-year-old daughter. She picked up something off of the ground and started to put it in her mouth. I took the item away from her and I asked her not to do that. 'Why?' my daughter asked. 'Because it's been on the ground; You don't know where it's been, it's dirty and probably has germs,' I replied.

At this point, my daughter looked at me with total admiration and asked, 'Mama, how do you know all this stuff? you are so smart.' I was thinking quickly and replied, 'All moms know this stuff..... It's on the Mama Test. You have to know it, or they don't let you be a Mama.'

We walked along in silence for 2 or 3 minutes, but she was evidently pondering this new information. 'Oh.....I get it!' she beamed, 'So if you don't pass the test you have to be the dad.' 'Exactly,' I replied with a big smile on my face.

There are times when I feel this great sense of power, like that idea, "I am invincible. I am woman." Of course, most days, I laugh at what a preposterous thought that is, but there are days here and there that I feel like being a woman and a mother is an amazing thing. My husband and I were watching a series of movies based on John Adams a month or more ago and there was a scene in it with Abigail Adams (John's wife) and daughter Nabby. Nabby asks her mother why the boys, who are off doing things other than the daily chores, always get to do the fun stuff. To which Abigail replies, "Because we let them."

I don't think I'll ever forget that line! There is something intangibly valuable and wonderful about being a woman and mother. Don't forget it! :)

What Should I Do With The Spider?
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