Tomorrow morning if you wake up
And the sun does not appear,
I will be here.
If in the dark we lose sight of love,
Hold my hand and have no fear,
‘Cause I will be here.
CHORUS
I will be here when you feel like being quiet;
When you need to speak your mind, I will listen.
And I will be here when the laughter turns to crying;
Through the winning, losing, and trying, we’ll be together,
‘Cause I will be here.
Tomorrow morning if you wake up
And the future is unclear,
I will be here.
As sure as seasons are made for change,
Our lifetimes are made for years,
So I will be here.
CHORUS
I will be here, so you can cry on my shoulder;
When the mirror tells us we’re older, I will hold you.
And I will be here to watch you grow in beauty,
And tell you all the things you are to me;
I will be here.
I will be true to the promise I have made,
To you and to the One who gave you to me.
As sure as seasons are made for change,
Our lifetimes are made for years,
So I, I will be here.
We'll be together and i will be here.
I Will Be Here
Steven Curtis Chapman
This is how God reminds me that He will never put me down.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Halloween 2011
I was so prepared for Halloween to bite.
Let me back up. We have a HORRIBLE Halloween track record. Sophie was 10 months old on her first Halloween and was sick. No cute baby pictures of a confused pumpkin or pea pod. The second Halloween we had a 22 month old daughter and a 3 month old son. Both were sick. I started to wonder if Halloween really was cursed.
Finally last year, both children were germ-free! I was pregnant but could waddle along to the Fall Festival. That's what you do in the Buckle of the Bible Belt. You go to church-run Fall Festivals where the kids can play games to earn their candy.
Yoda and the Prima Donna Ballerina were not amused. Neither of them like candy, the games confused them and it was way past their bedtime. We lasted maybe 30 minutes.
This year we had three little monsters. Warily, I procured costumes. Did you know that NO ONE ON EARTH makes a Daisy Duck costume for kids?! Daisy is Sophie's favorite Disney character. So we went with Minnie instead and she carried her best friend.
Minnie is a little bit of a ham.
Gideon was a race car driver. In true 2-year old form, he took great offence at being dressed up and paraded about.
So Ben decided that he was Kurt Busch.
Milly was supposed to be an adorable little kitty cat in a tutu.
(image from Party City)
Cute, right?
Milly grew. So we put her in a tutued long sleeved dress and called her a ballerina-princess-cute-baby.
We got to the Fall Festival and my spirits (har!) were lifted when Sophie successfully played a beanbag game. I just have to teach her to pick the good kind of candy. She just grabs indiscriminately. We played beanbag toss games, basketball and a game where the kids grabbed a plastic duck out of a small pond. Gideon wanted the duck more and actually got one foot in the pool before I caught him.
Did I mention that none of my kids like candy?
There was a petting zoo and pony rides. We knew that Gideon would lose his diaper if we put him on a moving animal so I took him into the petting zoo instead. He just stood back and stared at the goats. He screamed in protest whenever I encouraged him to actually, you know, PET the animals. Then, after a short line, we were able to see just what would happen if you put Sophie on a horse.
She actually liked it! She kept saying GINNUP! and HOESEY! and whenever we passed her Daddy with the camera she would yell CHEEEEESE! The only downside was that Mama picked poorly and put her on the LARGEST pony there. Sophie kept leaning towards me and I was honestly afraid that she would tumble right off. It didn't help that I couldn't convince her to hold onto the durn saddle. She had fun but a horsewoman she is not.
When we left, not one child was crying. In fact, they were all smiling. This counts as a Win in the Dyer book. We finally won a Halloween!
Let me back up. We have a HORRIBLE Halloween track record. Sophie was 10 months old on her first Halloween and was sick. No cute baby pictures of a confused pumpkin or pea pod. The second Halloween we had a 22 month old daughter and a 3 month old son. Both were sick. I started to wonder if Halloween really was cursed.
Finally last year, both children were germ-free! I was pregnant but could waddle along to the Fall Festival. That's what you do in the Buckle of the Bible Belt. You go to church-run Fall Festivals where the kids can play games to earn their candy.
Yoda and the Prima Donna Ballerina were not amused. Neither of them like candy, the games confused them and it was way past their bedtime. We lasted maybe 30 minutes.
This year we had three little monsters. Warily, I procured costumes. Did you know that NO ONE ON EARTH makes a Daisy Duck costume for kids?! Daisy is Sophie's favorite Disney character. So we went with Minnie instead and she carried her best friend.
Minnie is a little bit of a ham.
Gideon was a race car driver. In true 2-year old form, he took great offence at being dressed up and paraded about.
So Ben decided that he was Kurt Busch.
Milly was supposed to be an adorable little kitty cat in a tutu.
(image from Party City)
Cute, right?
Milly grew. So we put her in a tutued long sleeved dress and called her a ballerina-princess-cute-baby.
We got to the Fall Festival and my spirits (har!) were lifted when Sophie successfully played a beanbag game. I just have to teach her to pick the good kind of candy. She just grabs indiscriminately. We played beanbag toss games, basketball and a game where the kids grabbed a plastic duck out of a small pond. Gideon wanted the duck more and actually got one foot in the pool before I caught him.
Did I mention that none of my kids like candy?
There was a petting zoo and pony rides. We knew that Gideon would lose his diaper if we put him on a moving animal so I took him into the petting zoo instead. He just stood back and stared at the goats. He screamed in protest whenever I encouraged him to actually, you know, PET the animals. Then, after a short line, we were able to see just what would happen if you put Sophie on a horse.
She actually liked it! She kept saying GINNUP! and HOESEY! and whenever we passed her Daddy with the camera she would yell CHEEEEESE! The only downside was that Mama picked poorly and put her on the LARGEST pony there. Sophie kept leaning towards me and I was honestly afraid that she would tumble right off. It didn't help that I couldn't convince her to hold onto the durn saddle. She had fun but a horsewoman she is not.
When we left, not one child was crying. In fact, they were all smiling. This counts as a Win in the Dyer book. We finally won a Halloween!
Friday, October 28, 2011
Companion
A package arrived for me yesterday. I came out onto the porch and picked up the big brown box only to be greeted with the familiar sounds of the TARDIS whooshing.
For a brief moment, I thought "OMG, THE DOCTOR HAS BEEN MINIATURIZED AND MAILED HIMSELF TO ME SO THAT I CAN HELP HIM FIGHT THIS BATTLE!"
Then I realized that it was probably my TARDIS cookie jar from Think Geek.
Still cool.
For a brief moment, I thought "OMG, THE DOCTOR HAS BEEN MINIATURIZED AND MAILED HIMSELF TO ME SO THAT I CAN HELP HIM FIGHT THIS BATTLE!"
Then I realized that it was probably my TARDIS cookie jar from Think Geek.
Still cool.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Thigh Love
It is impossible to talk about chicken without feeling a little awkward.
*me after dinner* "Oof...I'm full. Two thighs is plenty."
Ben: "Yeah, more than two would be weird."
Garlicky Baked Chicken Thighs
The Stuff:
5 or 6 chicken thighs (mine were on the bone and had skin.)
3 TBSP soy sauce (I think I'm going to up this to 4 TBSP next time.)
1 stick of melted butter (SHUT UP.)
3 tsp garlic powder
2 tsp onion powder
1 tsp black pepper
The Process:
Throw your thighs into a bag.
See? It's awkward.
Pour everything else into there and squish it around. Marinate it for 30 minutes to a day. Past a day, put it in the freezer to cook later.
OK! It's later! Take out the bag and let everything thaw. Preheat your oven to 400 and grab a broiler pan. Lay your thighs onto the broiler pan and bake for 40-ish minutes. I just watched mine and waited until they were nice and brown and crispy. These were great with mashed potatoes.
Thiiiiiiiiiiighs.
Sorry. Just had to say it again.
*me after dinner* "Oof...I'm full. Two thighs is plenty."
Ben: "Yeah, more than two would be weird."
Garlicky Baked Chicken Thighs
The Stuff:
5 or 6 chicken thighs (mine were on the bone and had skin.)
3 TBSP soy sauce (I think I'm going to up this to 4 TBSP next time.)
1 stick of melted butter (SHUT UP.)
3 tsp garlic powder
2 tsp onion powder
1 tsp black pepper
The Process:
Throw your thighs into a bag.
See? It's awkward.
Pour everything else into there and squish it around. Marinate it for 30 minutes to a day. Past a day, put it in the freezer to cook later.
OK! It's later! Take out the bag and let everything thaw. Preheat your oven to 400 and grab a broiler pan. Lay your thighs onto the broiler pan and bake for 40-ish minutes. I just watched mine and waited until they were nice and brown and crispy. These were great with mashed potatoes.
Thiiiiiiiiiiighs.
Sorry. Just had to say it again.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Monday, October 24, 2011
Beef and Mushroom Win
Thank you, Crockstar, for changing my life.
I've been looking for a good beef stroganoff recipe for a while now. Extra points if I can dump it in the crock pot and walk away. I've tried a few and was disappointed. The gravy was bland, thin or non-existent. Then I found this on Pinterest.
YES, ANOTHER PINTEREST RECIPE.
The Stuff:
2 pounds cubed stew meat
1 can Condensed Golden Mushroom Soup
1 can Beefy Onion Soup
1/2 bag of frozen chopped onion
1/2 cup water
4 TBSP of Worcestershire
8 oz of cream cheese
1 tsp garlic powder
1 tsp onion powder
1 tsp black pepper
1 tsp kosher salt
1 TBSP butter
3 oz sliced mushrooms
The Process:
First dump your canned soups into the crock along with the water, onion and Worcestshire. Stir until combined and then add your stew meat. Mine was frozen. I love meals that I don't have to defrost because I NEVER remember to defrost the dadgum meat! Turn it to Low and walk away.
After about 7 hours, come back and savor your creation. It's almost ready. Cube the cream cheese and drop it in. Turn the crock up to High and let it go.
Here's where I got a little tricky. My husband doesn't like mushrooms. I still love him but that means that I have to cook my mushrooms separately. I think I actually like it better this way! I just melted the butter in a saucepan and dumped the mushrooms in. Once they were browned and starting to soften, I sprinkled the seasonings on and stirred. I covered them and set them on medium. Every few minutes I would stir them and then I just took them off the heat when they were to my liking.
Ben will probably eat the stroganoff over mashed potatoes. I ate it over my glorious sauteed mushrooms. I'm even thinking of making the gravy and mushrooms as a side dish for steak.
Try it, lovelies. It's good for you.
I've been looking for a good beef stroganoff recipe for a while now. Extra points if I can dump it in the crock pot and walk away. I've tried a few and was disappointed. The gravy was bland, thin or non-existent. Then I found this on Pinterest.
YES, ANOTHER PINTEREST RECIPE.
The Stuff:
2 pounds cubed stew meat
1 can Condensed Golden Mushroom Soup
1 can Beefy Onion Soup
1/2 bag of frozen chopped onion
1/2 cup water
4 TBSP of Worcestershire
8 oz of cream cheese
1 tsp garlic powder
1 tsp onion powder
1 tsp black pepper
1 tsp kosher salt
1 TBSP butter
3 oz sliced mushrooms
The Process:
First dump your canned soups into the crock along with the water, onion and Worcestshire. Stir until combined and then add your stew meat. Mine was frozen. I love meals that I don't have to defrost because I NEVER remember to defrost the dadgum meat! Turn it to Low and walk away.
After about 7 hours, come back and savor your creation. It's almost ready. Cube the cream cheese and drop it in. Turn the crock up to High and let it go.
Here's where I got a little tricky. My husband doesn't like mushrooms. I still love him but that means that I have to cook my mushrooms separately. I think I actually like it better this way! I just melted the butter in a saucepan and dumped the mushrooms in. Once they were browned and starting to soften, I sprinkled the seasonings on and stirred. I covered them and set them on medium. Every few minutes I would stir them and then I just took them off the heat when they were to my liking.
Ben will probably eat the stroganoff over mashed potatoes. I ate it over my glorious sauteed mushrooms. I'm even thinking of making the gravy and mushrooms as a side dish for steak.
Try it, lovelies. It's good for you.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Little Flopper
Milly is getting more mobile everyday. It's not often that I get to really hold her. More often than not, I hold a silly girl who flaps her arms and wiggles around to see everything around her. She barks a weird breathless laugh that I have GOT to get on camera so I can remember the sound forever.
Today she is crawling around on me. Her breath smells like formula and the pumpkin muffins I made last night. She holds onto my should and carefully stands up. Then she gets too excited at her accomplishment, flaps too hard and topples over. She bark-laughs and smiles the whole time. She examines every bit of my face; carefully looking at every nook and cranny of my ear and pulling at my eyebrows reminding me that I probably need to go get them waxed. (Eyebrows, not ears.) She finally giggles so much that she gets the hiccups giving herself an even funnier drunken lilt to her early morning play.
Lord, let me never forget this little 9-month old girl.
Don't let me forget her fuzzy hair that doesn't seem to part any "right" way even when she's taking an hour every morning to put every hair in place.
Don't let me forget this silliness even when she's too old for such nonsense.
Don't let me forget the grin with only 6 uneven baby teeth even when she has a mouthful of braces and then a mouthful of beautiful white teeth.
Dear Lord, let me remember.
Today she is crawling around on me. Her breath smells like formula and the pumpkin muffins I made last night. She holds onto my should and carefully stands up. Then she gets too excited at her accomplishment, flaps too hard and topples over. She bark-laughs and smiles the whole time. She examines every bit of my face; carefully looking at every nook and cranny of my ear and pulling at my eyebrows reminding me that I probably need to go get them waxed. (Eyebrows, not ears.) She finally giggles so much that she gets the hiccups giving herself an even funnier drunken lilt to her early morning play.
Lord, let me never forget this little 9-month old girl.
Don't let me forget her fuzzy hair that doesn't seem to part any "right" way even when she's taking an hour every morning to put every hair in place.
Don't let me forget this silliness even when she's too old for such nonsense.
Don't let me forget the grin with only 6 uneven baby teeth even when she has a mouthful of braces and then a mouthful of beautiful white teeth.
Dear Lord, let me remember.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
While He's Little
Sometimes when I get Gideon up from a nap he needs to be held. His eyes are still blinky and he's a little bit of a zombie. He lays heavily on my chest and puts his fuzzy head on my shoulder or under my chin. his downy fine hair is still sweaty on the back of his neck. He snuggles close with his arms around my neck and I rub his back. Last week, he was still in his 4T Aggie jersey.
Please let me remember these moments.
Let me remember when he's storming around the house knocking his sisters' toys down.
Let me remember when he's too old to be held.
Let me remember when he won't let me kiss him anymore.
Let me remember when he's 18, a foot taller than me and wearing a real football jersey.
Dear Lord, let me remember.
Please let me remember these moments.
Let me remember when he's storming around the house knocking his sisters' toys down.
Let me remember when he's too old to be held.
Let me remember when he won't let me kiss him anymore.
Let me remember when he's 18, a foot taller than me and wearing a real football jersey.
Dear Lord, let me remember.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Chicken Faux-mesan
Hello. My name is Kelly and I'm addicted to Pinterest.
I have boards for everything under the sun including one for my personal chuckles. Actually, there are two chuckle boards. I chuckle a lot.
On Pinterest I have found SO MANY different recipes that I'm ready to make and add to my collection at All Recipes. This is one that the whole family loved and is going right in my virtual cookbook. The only con Ben and I could find is that it doesn't heat up well. Leftovers get soggy on the top when chilled and reheated. The fresh from the oven casserole?
OH. EM. GEE.
Chicken Faux-mesan
The Stuff:
4 boneless chicken pieces (breasts or thighs will work)
Your favorite marinara sauce (I used a jar of Prego Veggie Smart)
Finely shredded Italian cheese blend
Parmesan cheese (I used the stuff in the green can. SUE ME.)
1 bag of garlic and herb croutons (Stay with me, folks!)
The Process:
Cube your chicken parts into bite sized pieces. Drizzle a little EVOO on the bottom of an 8x8 or 9x9 cooking vessel. I then sprinkled a little Italian seasoning over the EVOO. Scatter your chicken pieces into the casserole dish. Cover the chicken with marinara sauce. Don't drown it. Just cover it. Then put a layer of glorious cheese over the sauce. I just eyeballed it but about a 1/4 cup of Italian blend cheese and then a good shake of the parm should do it. Open those croutons and put a layer over the cheese. Then do another layer of cheese. Bake at 350 for about 20 minutes. If the top starts to get too brown then put some foil over the top. We just want that chicken to cook and the cheese to get all melty.
What you are left with is a crunchy on the top, melty-chewy on the bottom chicken parm casserole. Ben, Gideon and I all loved it. Sophie ate garlic bread and about 3 pieces of casserole.
Here's a link to the man who created this wonderful and fast dish.
Thank you from this harried mother.
I have boards for everything under the sun including one for my personal chuckles. Actually, there are two chuckle boards. I chuckle a lot.
On Pinterest I have found SO MANY different recipes that I'm ready to make and add to my collection at All Recipes. This is one that the whole family loved and is going right in my virtual cookbook. The only con Ben and I could find is that it doesn't heat up well. Leftovers get soggy on the top when chilled and reheated. The fresh from the oven casserole?
OH. EM. GEE.
Chicken Faux-mesan
The Stuff:
4 boneless chicken pieces (breasts or thighs will work)
Your favorite marinara sauce (I used a jar of Prego Veggie Smart)
Finely shredded Italian cheese blend
Parmesan cheese (I used the stuff in the green can. SUE ME.)
1 bag of garlic and herb croutons (Stay with me, folks!)
The Process:
Cube your chicken parts into bite sized pieces. Drizzle a little EVOO on the bottom of an 8x8 or 9x9 cooking vessel. I then sprinkled a little Italian seasoning over the EVOO. Scatter your chicken pieces into the casserole dish. Cover the chicken with marinara sauce. Don't drown it. Just cover it. Then put a layer of glorious cheese over the sauce. I just eyeballed it but about a 1/4 cup of Italian blend cheese and then a good shake of the parm should do it. Open those croutons and put a layer over the cheese. Then do another layer of cheese. Bake at 350 for about 20 minutes. If the top starts to get too brown then put some foil over the top. We just want that chicken to cook and the cheese to get all melty.
What you are left with is a crunchy on the top, melty-chewy on the bottom chicken parm casserole. Ben, Gideon and I all loved it. Sophie ate garlic bread and about 3 pieces of casserole.
Here's a link to the man who created this wonderful and fast dish.
Thank you from this harried mother.
Monday, October 3, 2011
The Middle Child
Dear Gideon,
OY.
I say that so often about you. It ranks right up there with coming over to your Dad and saying "OK, YOUR SON..." to which he interrupts with "I hate it when stories begin that way."
OH WAIT! I also repeat the words STOP CHEWING ON THAT about 9,458,924 times a day. Didn't you stop teething a year ago? Why does it look like we live with beavers? You are really lucky you're cute.
Those big brown eyes get you out of so much trouble. Daddy calls you a Mama's Boy but I know the truth. You are just perfect and I'm the only one who can see it even when you bring me a handful of poop you just dug out of the back of your diaper. You are such a BOY. You like rolling around in the dirt and playing with your cars. You roughhouse with anyone willing to play and some that are drafted into the effort. Another reason I know you're all boy? Every single time I change your diaper, you grab ahold of your little boy parts. Can I give you a tip? IT DOESN'T FALL OFF. YOU DON'T HAVE TO CHECK EVERY TIME.
You're a laid back little guy. You go with the flow and do whatever everyone else is doing. (Namely, your older sister.) You're starting to talk now. You can count to ten and you repeat some of the things you hear on Sesame Street and Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. In fact, you just spent your whole nap today calling for Toodles. Nearly everything you say ends in a question mark.
"Okay?"
"One? Two?"
"Moo?"
You're Mama's little growling, stomping, filthy Godzilla goat-boy. You still cuddle on my shoulder every single night before going to sleep and after every nap. I wouldn't have you any other way.
Mama loves you.
OY.
I say that so often about you. It ranks right up there with coming over to your Dad and saying "OK, YOUR SON..." to which he interrupts with "I hate it when stories begin that way."
OH WAIT! I also repeat the words STOP CHEWING ON THAT about 9,458,924 times a day. Didn't you stop teething a year ago? Why does it look like we live with beavers? You are really lucky you're cute.
Those big brown eyes get you out of so much trouble. Daddy calls you a Mama's Boy but I know the truth. You are just perfect and I'm the only one who can see it even when you bring me a handful of poop you just dug out of the back of your diaper. You are such a BOY. You like rolling around in the dirt and playing with your cars. You roughhouse with anyone willing to play and some that are drafted into the effort. Another reason I know you're all boy? Every single time I change your diaper, you grab ahold of your little boy parts. Can I give you a tip? IT DOESN'T FALL OFF. YOU DON'T HAVE TO CHECK EVERY TIME.
You're a laid back little guy. You go with the flow and do whatever everyone else is doing. (Namely, your older sister.) You're starting to talk now. You can count to ten and you repeat some of the things you hear on Sesame Street and Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. In fact, you just spent your whole nap today calling for Toodles. Nearly everything you say ends in a question mark.
"Okay?"
"One? Two?"
"Moo?"
You're Mama's little growling, stomping, filthy Godzilla goat-boy. You still cuddle on my shoulder every single night before going to sleep and after every nap. I wouldn't have you any other way.
Mama loves you.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
The Wrapping Drawer
Ben is trying to get cling wrap onto the leftover casserole and is failing. The cling wrap is wildly sticking to everything, including itself, and refuses to tear. I end up helping him hold it still while we wrestle it into place.
Ben: ARGH! I hate this stuff! You have to keep it perfectly straight or it gets everywhere!
Me: (talking for the cling wrap in a Cletus-moron voice) "YAY! I KAN STICK TO FINGS!"
Ben laughs.
Me: Why do we always go for the moron voice when describing things?
Ben: Well, it is the moron of the drawer.
Me: True. Parchment paper is the snooty cousin.
Ben: The Ziploc bags are the...
Both: ...nerds / techy types.
This is where I fling my arms around him and smooch him soundly for not just laughing at my joke, not just making a joke of his own but finishing the joke with the same bizarro thoughts as me.
This is why we fit. It is also why our children don't have a snowball's chance in Mordor of being normal.
Ben: ARGH! I hate this stuff! You have to keep it perfectly straight or it gets everywhere!
Me: (talking for the cling wrap in a Cletus-moron voice) "YAY! I KAN STICK TO FINGS!"
Ben laughs.
Me: Why do we always go for the moron voice when describing things?
Ben: Well, it is the moron of the drawer.
Me: True. Parchment paper is the snooty cousin.
Ben: The Ziploc bags are the...
Both: ...nerds / techy types.
This is where I fling my arms around him and smooch him soundly for not just laughing at my joke, not just making a joke of his own but finishing the joke with the same bizarro thoughts as me.
This is why we fit. It is also why our children don't have a snowball's chance in Mordor of being normal.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
The Baby
Dearest Milly,
Right now I'm watching you stand at your little play table and create a cacophony of noise. Some of it is that irritating table that has somehow survived your older siblings and is now singing at you whenever you whack the appropriate colored tabs. The other is a mix of laughter and a long WHIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE of discontent. You keep changing moods at the speed of light, Milly Bean. Can we discuss your bipolar nature? I hardly have time to get the camera up to get that cute picture before you're off again with the WOE IS ME and OMG I'M TIRED BUT I'M NOT TIRED PICK ME UP NOW PUT ME DOWN.
Now you're in my lap watching me type and grinding your teeth. You only have 5, darling. Is that the best idea? Also, can I have my arm back? Typing with one hand is difficult. Can I offer you a cold teether? You're the only one who likes icy cold teethers. The others always spit them out and gave me awful looks. You chew so hard I'm honestly afraid you're going to puncture them. Seriously, I've already googled "Is the stuff in teething rings poisonous?" Still, I would rather you work out those puppy teeth on hard frozen plastic than my hands. You've already drawn blood. TWICE.
Aaand you just spit up. Not on yourself, mind you, but on the couch. You have perfected the art of leaning over and yacking on me, the furniture or anything else. You rarely spit up on yourself. I keep bibs on you but it makes no difference. One can only hope that your marksmanship turns into a good quality. Maybe you'll work for the CIA one day.
As I watch you crawl all over the living room, I'm struck by how big you are. Wasn't I just whining about your feet in my ribs last week? Now you're 18 pounds of determination ready to follow your sister and brother wherever they go. You cruise, crawl and are ready to walk at any time. You have very little interest in staying still. There's too much to see and do. There are toys to fling, books to inspect and forgotten Cheerios to choke on.
I love you, Millicent. I love your spirit, your laugh and your chubby, cuddly little body. I love how you curl up with me for your last bottle of the day and then jam your thumb in your mouth with a sigh before fluttering your long lashes onto your full cheeks. I love your curiosity and will. Every time you tumble down to the floor, you shake your little head and climb right back up. When it's a little too hard then you cry for kisses.
Mama will always kiss your hurts, Baby Girl.
Right now I'm watching you stand at your little play table and create a cacophony of noise. Some of it is that irritating table that has somehow survived your older siblings and is now singing at you whenever you whack the appropriate colored tabs. The other is a mix of laughter and a long WHIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE of discontent. You keep changing moods at the speed of light, Milly Bean. Can we discuss your bipolar nature? I hardly have time to get the camera up to get that cute picture before you're off again with the WOE IS ME and OMG I'M TIRED BUT I'M NOT TIRED PICK ME UP NOW PUT ME DOWN.
Now you're in my lap watching me type and grinding your teeth. You only have 5, darling. Is that the best idea? Also, can I have my arm back? Typing with one hand is difficult. Can I offer you a cold teether? You're the only one who likes icy cold teethers. The others always spit them out and gave me awful looks. You chew so hard I'm honestly afraid you're going to puncture them. Seriously, I've already googled "Is the stuff in teething rings poisonous?" Still, I would rather you work out those puppy teeth on hard frozen plastic than my hands. You've already drawn blood. TWICE.
Aaand you just spit up. Not on yourself, mind you, but on the couch. You have perfected the art of leaning over and yacking on me, the furniture or anything else. You rarely spit up on yourself. I keep bibs on you but it makes no difference. One can only hope that your marksmanship turns into a good quality. Maybe you'll work for the CIA one day.
As I watch you crawl all over the living room, I'm struck by how big you are. Wasn't I just whining about your feet in my ribs last week? Now you're 18 pounds of determination ready to follow your sister and brother wherever they go. You cruise, crawl and are ready to walk at any time. You have very little interest in staying still. There's too much to see and do. There are toys to fling, books to inspect and forgotten Cheerios to choke on.
I love you, Millicent. I love your spirit, your laugh and your chubby, cuddly little body. I love how you curl up with me for your last bottle of the day and then jam your thumb in your mouth with a sigh before fluttering your long lashes onto your full cheeks. I love your curiosity and will. Every time you tumble down to the floor, you shake your little head and climb right back up. When it's a little too hard then you cry for kisses.
Mama will always kiss your hurts, Baby Girl.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Crockpot Turkey
Eventually I will have a separate place on my blog for all of my cooking posts. For now, I'm going to start putting my recipes up whenever I feel the mood is right.
Tonight, the mood is right.
Turkey is problematic. It is usually eaten only once or twice a year and is fairly tasteless. It dries out quickly. What do you do with the leftovers? I'm here to tell you that turkey doesn't have to be a once a year grind with sandwiches for the next 2 weeks.
BEHOLD! My crockpot turkey breast recipe!
The Stuff:
4 tablespoons kosher salt
2 tablespoons paprika
1 tablespoon onion powder
1 tablespoon dried thyme
2 tablespoons black pepper
1/2 tablespoons cayenne pepper
2 tablespoons garlic powder
1 8 pound frozen turkey breast
EVOO
The Process:
Thaw your turkey in the fridge. This is going to take a while. Just ask my sister about the time she hosted Thanksgiving.
Go on. Then dodge the chair she throws at your head. She's a good shot.
Anyhoo, once you have a thawed carcass, stir all of your spices together in a small bowl. Hold this bowl far away from your nose or you will violently sneeze all over the kitchen. If this happens, try to miss the turkey. If you sneeze on the turkey, take a moment to rinse it off. Please. For the children. Smear some EVOO on your turkey and then generously rub AAAAAAALLLLL of those spices into the turkey breast.
Massage the turkey. Make sure to get all of the nooks and crannies. Don't feel weird. You're just rubbing a dead animal like a lover.
It's weird, isn't it? I really hate this part.
Get it over quick and plop that bad boy in the crockpot. Turn it on low and walk away for 8 to 10 hours. When you come back then you will have wonderful juicy meat falling from the bones. Serve with dressing, potatoes or whatever your heart desires. This got thumbs up from Ben and Gideon. Sophie is going through a vegetarian phase. Animal flesh holds no interest for her unless it comes from a pig.
Time to look up some ham recipes!
Tonight, the mood is right.
Turkey is problematic. It is usually eaten only once or twice a year and is fairly tasteless. It dries out quickly. What do you do with the leftovers? I'm here to tell you that turkey doesn't have to be a once a year grind with sandwiches for the next 2 weeks.
BEHOLD! My crockpot turkey breast recipe!
The Stuff:
4 tablespoons kosher salt
2 tablespoons paprika
1 tablespoon onion powder
1 tablespoon dried thyme
2 tablespoons black pepper
1/2 tablespoons cayenne pepper
2 tablespoons garlic powder
1 8 pound frozen turkey breast
EVOO
The Process:
Thaw your turkey in the fridge. This is going to take a while. Just ask my sister about the time she hosted Thanksgiving.
Go on. Then dodge the chair she throws at your head. She's a good shot.
Anyhoo, once you have a thawed carcass, stir all of your spices together in a small bowl. Hold this bowl far away from your nose or you will violently sneeze all over the kitchen. If this happens, try to miss the turkey. If you sneeze on the turkey, take a moment to rinse it off. Please. For the children. Smear some EVOO on your turkey and then generously rub AAAAAAALLLLL of those spices into the turkey breast.
Massage the turkey. Make sure to get all of the nooks and crannies. Don't feel weird. You're just rubbing a dead animal like a lover.
It's weird, isn't it? I really hate this part.
Get it over quick and plop that bad boy in the crockpot. Turn it on low and walk away for 8 to 10 hours. When you come back then you will have wonderful juicy meat falling from the bones. Serve with dressing, potatoes or whatever your heart desires. This got thumbs up from Ben and Gideon. Sophie is going through a vegetarian phase. Animal flesh holds no interest for her unless it comes from a pig.
Time to look up some ham recipes!
Sunday, September 18, 2011
An Addendum to the Last Post
Dear Aging Hippie in the Sprouts parking lot,
I forgot that I had left my radio volume on 60. I'm sorry that Kansas began screaming Carry On My Wayward Son loud enough to make you nearly drop your bag of organic fruit bark and tofu nuggets, poop onto your vegan TOMS and slam the door of your silver Prius.
I'm not sorry I giggled all the way home.
I forgot that I had left my radio volume on 60. I'm sorry that Kansas began screaming Carry On My Wayward Son loud enough to make you nearly drop your bag of organic fruit bark and tofu nuggets, poop onto your vegan TOMS and slam the door of your silver Prius.
I'm not sorry I giggled all the way home.
Songs That Soothe
When you are an adult who must act like an adult but is still afraid of generally everything then you need to find ways to soothe your addled soul and mind.
My way? Music.
Hillsong's Greatness of Our God says it perfectly.
"Give me eyes to see
More of who You are
May what I behold,
still my anxious heart."
"Give me grace to see
Beyond this moment here.
To believe that there
Is nothing left to fear."
"No sky contains,
No doubt restrains,
All You are,
The greatness of our God.
I spend my life to know,
And I'm far from close
To all You are,
The greatness of our God."
Thank you, Lord, for working through these amazing people.
My way? Music.
Hillsong's Greatness of Our God says it perfectly.
"Give me eyes to see
More of who You are
May what I behold,
still my anxious heart."
"Give me grace to see
Beyond this moment here.
To believe that there
Is nothing left to fear."
"No sky contains,
No doubt restrains,
All You are,
The greatness of our God.
I spend my life to know,
And I'm far from close
To all You are,
The greatness of our God."
Thank you, Lord, for working through these amazing people.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
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