Thanksgiving Aftermath

There are many things that can be said about our Thanksgiving holiday experience this year. I have some wonderful little stories, some priceless photo documentation, and some personal thankful reflections, all of which I hope to write about sometime in the near future. But for right now, while it is still freshly imprinted on my heart, I had to share what unfolded not 5 minutes ago.

As I was kissing and hugging (and kissing & hugging and kissing & hugging...) Ben goodnight, he pulled away, looked me right in the eyes and with his little brow furrowed, exclaimed:

"Mama, so many days and so many nights, I still just love you."

That is what I am most thankful for at this very moment, and I have my suspicions that this feeling, along with the remnants from tonight's amazing leftovers, will be with me a very long time.

Duped

The marketing folks at Starbucks are clever people, because my day-to-day allegiance does not even reside with them (my heart is and always will belong to Peet's), but today I was putty in their hands. I was walking by our local Starbucks minding my own business when I looked in through the large window and saw handfuls of customers inside, bundled up and avoiding the chill in the air, reading, chatting, drinking their lattes and web surfing. I'm a sucker for scenarios such as this- it's a well-known fact I love all things cozy. However, I was bound and determined to keep moving onto my destination and stay in a mode of productivity. But DARN IT ALL! Those adorable Starbucks red paper cups of holiday cheer that they use this time of year stopped me dead in my tracks. Suddenly, I was desperate for an Eggnog latte in a cute red paper cup, and nothing else would suffice. Whoever said money can't buy happiness isn't entirely correct, or perhaps they've never treated themselves to the holiday eggnog latte drink. Because $3.60 later, I am incredibly happy. And call me easy to please, but I just adore my little red cup. Real slick, Starbucks.

(Almost) Lost in Translation

This morning, at breakfast table:

Ben: Mommy, why was that one daddy guy holding that baby and putting soil on her face? Remember?
Me (ever so perplexed): What, buddy? Soil? When?
Ben: When we went to church!
Me: Just the other day?
Ben: Yeah. Remember, there was the baby, and the soil? And on her head....
(*This continues for many more minutes, back and forth until....)
Me: Sweetie, I'm not sure what you're saying. Are you sure you know what soil is? Maybe you mean "SOUL"! Do you mean "soul"? (Because the word "soul" is obviously more likely to have been said during mass than "soil").
Ben: NOOOO! You know, SOIL on her HEAD? When that baby was getting APPETIZED?
Me: Ohhhhhh. I get it now. You are asking about the oil that was put on her head when she was getting baptized. Wow. You are one observant little Mister. And I will answer your question as soon as I quickly document and blog about this adorable moment.

And now if you'll excuse me, I need to begin Googling "soil on head + appetized + mass" and come up with some concrete answers for an unrelenting precocious 3-1/2 year old . I feel like I've just been given a pop quiz.

It's Hard to Stay Out Past 10

It's not often I get out on a weekend night to have some good old-fashioned "girls night fun", so when the opportunity presented itself last night, I was more than ready to paint the town red. I got out of my sweats, threw on jeans, earrings and cute shoes. I was ready to sport the new haircut I'd received just hours before. I even applied two coats of mascara. However, two cucumber mojitos and one fantastic grilled portobello sandwich dinner later, I was rapidly losing my momentum as visions of my lonely warm and cozy bed danced through my head. My eyelids were getting heavy, my body in all of its satiated bliss was moving slowly, and my  toes were freezing. I was even battling the beginning signs of a scratchy sore throat. After walking aimlessly for a few minutes desperately trying to find the inner strength to sustain my "party" mode, I came up with what I thought was the perfect business proposition and began thinking outloud:

You know what would be awesome? Some sort of lounge/pub/restaurant, where the required dress code would be pajamas. Instead of high heels, everyone would be in cozy socks. It would be a comforting room with large soft couches. It would be completely appropriate to lie down, or talk with friends, or read a great book off in the corner. There would be candles lit everywhere, soft low lighting, multiple fireplaces with roaring warm fires crackling, classical music playing, down blankets available to all customers, and hot chocolate with marshmallows would be the drink special of the evening. I would TOTALLY go there right now.

To which my footloose and fancy-free sister, 7 years younger than I, rolled her eyes and responded, "Nicole, that place is called home."

Party on.

Winds of Change

Image by sarniebill1 via Flickr

Thank you, legendary 80s band Scorpions. Because of you and your killer one-hit wonder song, I have an appropriate title for my post today.

The winds of change have been blowing around or perhaps just directly on me because in the last week I have done the following life-altering things:

• Weaned the baby girl. On her birthday, to boot. I was fully prepared to breastfeed her for as long as she wanted, but then her crazy sharp teeth got involved, and subsequently deep (and incredibly painful) teeth marks were being left on my innocent flesh. I took that as a sign to wrap things up in the breastfeeding department. For the most part, it appears to have gone unnoticed, and she seems fine with this change. Sometimes she gets angry and yells at me a little bit, and we're not able to lay down together in my bed anymore (though I'm sure we'll be able to in a few weeks time), but thankfully she is very passionate about her sippy cup and boy oh boy, can that girl chug down some water! It's bittersweet- of course I miss that cozy time with her and I find that I'm asking myself 100 times a day "where did the time go?", but ultimately- I have my boobs back, and therefore quite a bit more freedom (cue George Michael's Freedom).
  
• Weaning the baby girl = no more excuses to NOT join a gym. So I did! This has been one of the most monumental decisions of the past 4 years, and I don't mean that lightly. Something has clicked inside of me, and I knew that starting this "getting healthy" journey I'm embarking upon would not be legitimate until I was able to get to a place of No More Excuses. I've loved every second (more or less) of being a mommy these last 4 years, but I'm ready to take a step back and begin taking care of myself, nurturing myself, giving myself an outlet. I truly believe the greatest gift I can give those two precious children of mine is to take care of their Mama. I've begun the journey and it truly feels great. Next on the list: get pedicure for the first time in over a year.
• On a side note: workout equipment and general gym culture have really changed in the last 4 years. Machines are more complicated, and people seem to be much more paranoid about their peers' sweat and germs. Bringing your own towel is of the utmost importance. Disinfecting your own equipment is standard protocol. Wearing your sports bra ONLY (as opposed to my "old school" standard of under my shirt) seems to be the new norm. I have also learned that working out in front of a TV (namely, The Ellen show) really speeds things up. Also, any cocky attitude I had was destroyed that first day the moment I attempted the stairmaster machine on anything over a level 1. Climbing flights and flights of stairs is serious business, and I plan on throwing a party the day I can advance past a level 3 on that machine.
  
• Ben has twice in the last week attempted to take care of me with such intense concern for my well-being, I couldn't not include it on this list. Exhibit A: After I let out a giant yawn and sigh, Ben immediately looked at me and said,

"It's okay, Mommy. It's okay. I know you're really tired. Don't worry, we're going to go to bed really soon. It's okay Mommy. Everything will be fine."

Exhibit B: After overhearing me complain of sore working out muscles and bones, Ben said,  "Mommy, don't worry. I'm going to take good care of you and you will feel all better." When did he learn along the way that that's all a girl ever needs to hear?

• Went to the girly doctor. You know....to have that ONE procedure done. The one that sort of rhymes with "cap sneer". The one that's supposed to occur annually, but never really does (or at least, not in my world, as I'm a master of procrastination).  Oh man, was I ever apprehensive. I had the nervous sweaty palm sweats and everything. Also, I was way too overly excited to see my doctor when she walked in, which I hope she interpreted as flattering, but really could have been interpreted as ultra creepy. Who tells their Gyno, "It's SO GREAT to see you again!" and then beams with smiles and giggles? Who? Me, that's who. Anyway, I'm looking forward to twelve whole months of not having to do THAT again. (And for the record- my doctor's office covers the stirrups on that dreadful table with oven mits, which I find hilarious and bizarre. And somehow this makes me cringe just a teensy bit each time I take something out of my oven).
• As a result of said doctor's appointment, I unexpectedly had my blood drawn for routine tests. This experience alone deserves its very own blog posting because the chain of events that occurred during this proceedure were some of the most hilarious and uncomfortable moments of my life. I'll just say this: my incredibly small, child-like, almost non-existent veins + my intense fear of needles + my tendency to black out because of heightened nerves because of fear of needles + very sweet but very inexperienced and bubbleheaded phlebotomist = 1 of 5 attempts successful and sore, bruised arms with lots of needle holes. Definitely not the highlight of my week.
 

Speaking of the highlight of my week, I've got a down blanket, a great book, and a tall mug of hot chocolate waiting for me, a husband out, and two children and one dog sound asleep.

The perfect Friday night.

A Big Day

November 6th is a significant day in our household. Five years ago today I married my best friend, and one year ago today, I gave birth to my baby girl. Both of these events are hugely tremendous independently of each other, so the combination of both in one day is overwhelming, to say the least. It's difficult for me to even know where to begin explaining how precious both of these events are to my heart. In light of that, and for the sake of the length of this blog, and for the sake of everyone's attention span involved, I'll break the two up. Otherwise we could be here all weekend long recounting the events and revisiting all the photos that made this day so special...twice over.

Let's start at the very beginning...long before Ella was even a twinkle in Dan's eye.

Dan and I met in early 2002. Some of the initial details are fuzzy, but I vividly recall a moment we shared very early on- perhaps our second meeting- where he tried to lean in and hug me. I happened to be leaning up against something and I misunderstood his gesture completely, thinking he was grabbing something behind me. So naturally, I moved out of the way. And he leaned in my ear and had to correct me, "Um, I'm hugging you". Oh. How nice. He's hugging me. If this wasn't so awkward, it would really be quite sweet.

And there it was: the beginning of a very clumsy little relationship. And then one Saturday afternoon in March of 2004, after getting new tires put on my car and having a great lunch at Santa Cruz Diner, he proposed. Got down on one knee and everything. We were in my apartment when he suddenly walked out, went to his truck, and came back inside with my beautiful BLING ring! I was shocked. I screamed a lot. His proposal was very simple, sweet, heartfelt and a complete surprise. He melted my heart into a puddle of butter.

And then, 8 months later, he made me a Bride:

My very pretty beaded satin princess dress.

A very nervous groom. Can you imagine? Who would be nervous to marry ME?

 Although I was originally terrified to do it, I had no idea walking down an aisle to meet my best friend would be so much fun! I wanted to run back up and do it all over again. But I didn't. Instead, we exchanged vows and had a very traditional (Italian) Catholic wedding mass. It was beautiful and quite long.

Here's my Dad, giving me away. We cried when we saw each other.

Look at these pretty ladies!

We did it! And nobody passed out or objected!

Here we are thinking, "Wow! So far, the first 30 seconds of being married is WONDERFUL!"

Now this was true marital bliss. Also in the back of my mind was the excitement and anticipation of tasting the food we'd been planning and talking about for months. (It was fabulous.)

This was our cake. We went with the Carrot Cake option, and loved every crumb. Not many people have the fortitude to serve Carrot Cake at their wedding, but we fell in love with it at our "cake sampling" appointment and couldn't get it off our minds. And truth be told, you can't really go wrong with a bakery called The Buttery, can you?

People toasted us and we drank champagne.

There was a fantastic live band. They were loud and we even got some noise complaints....the ultimate indication of a really great party.

I danced with my daddy

And then I danced with my new husband

 And then I just DANCED.

 

And so did everyone else.

I'm not even sure what's going on here:

And while we're at it, this one's pretty awesome, too:

A surprise performance by the Hi-Tone Sinners, (check out my new hot hubby, busting out the awesome bass lines!)

The happy and entertained wedding guests/audience (and the proud bride):

My sister, the Maid of Honor, catching the boquet. (Yes, it was completely rigged. Also, check out my friend Alicia, right behind her, putting in an effort worthy of a honorable mention.)

Then we drank more wine and danced until I finally looked at my handsome new husband with weary wedding eyes and said, "I'm done. I can't be in this heavy dress one minute longer, and my feet can't stand up anymore.Take me home, baby."

Then we hopped onto his white horse and rode off into the sunset. And we've lived happily ever after since.

The End.

Happy Anniversary, babe! The last 5 years have been amazing. So much has changed since that beautiful day- my waistline and your receding hairline for starters. Five houses, one dog and two children later, I realize that sometimes we need to just stop and take a breath and look at all we've accomplished together. We make such a great team, and I'm so happy to be on this journey with you. Thank you for making me want to be a better person, thank you for how incredibly unselfish you are, thank you for working hard for our family, and most of all, thank you for our two beautiful children. I am loving growing old with you. My heart is yours, forever.

Cancel All Plans- Stay Home & Make This Instead...

Hello my people. Are you looking for the perfect way to tell someone "I LOVE YOU MORE THAN ANYTHING, AND IF YOU DON'T BELIEVE ME, JUST LOOK WHAT I MADE FOR YOU?", even if that someone is yourself? Then you should by all means make my new favorite dessert tonight: Roasted Balsamic Pears with Cinnamon-Mascarpone. How could you possibly say "no" to this:

I tested this out on the family last night, and oh my heavens. It passed with flying colors. The husband was begging me to renew our wedding vows, the 3 year old was apologizing for his sassy behavior these last few days and requesting to give me a foot rub, and the baby immediately stopped teething. That's how wonderful this dessert is. There may have even been some passionate plate licking when it was all over...immediately followed by frustration that I didn't think to buy at least a dozen more pears from the Farmer's Market this weekend. Note to self: buy a ridiculous amount of pears at Farmer's next Saturday.

A few words before I get on already with the recipe- there are many reasons to love this dessert. For starters, it's pears. They sort of make you feel light and airy and like you're not really doing anything naughty by eating them, especially if you happened to fall victim to the post-Halloween sugar coma backlash. Like me. Secondly, they are so delightfully simple- but very elegant. They take about 5 minutes to prep, but they look fancy enough to serve for the most special of dinner guests (which means, if you are thinking of inviting me over for dinner, these would be totally appropriate to serve for our dessert together). Thirdly, anytime I can throw in a quirky and unexpected ingredient like balsamic vinegar into my dessert I just know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, it's going to be fantastic.And lastly- cinnamon mixed with mascarpone cheese? Do we even need to say more? Those Italians! They really are God's gift to mankind with their invention of the creamiest of all cream cheeses. My lips are instinctively quivering just thinking about it. I've been longing to incorporate more mascarpone into my life for quite some time now, so the timing is perfect.

Alright. I'll shut up now and let you get on with it. You can thank me later- have fun.

Roasted Balsamic Pears with Cinnamon Mascarpone

Serves 4
Ingredients:
2 medium-large ripe pears (we used a variety close to Bosc, but anything similar would work)
Approx. 2 tsp. brown sugar
Approx. 3 tsp. butter
Balsamic vinegar, for drizzling
1/4 cup white grape or apple juice (or...a combination of brandy + juice would also be divine)
6 T. mascarpone cheese (Trader Joe's sells it in a small tub!)
2 tsp. granulated sugar
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
2 T. chopped toasted walnuts (optional)
Kosher salt (optional)

1. Preheat oven to 375. Halve pears lengthwise and core with paring knife. (We left ours unpeeled because the peel got so soft in the cooking process that it tasted delicious. But feel free to peel first if you prefer.) Place cored side up in a medium baking dish. Spoon about 1/2 tsp. of butter and 1/2 tsp. of brown sugar into each cavity. Pour grape or apple juice (or BRANDY!) into baking dish. Lightly drizzle balsamic vinegar over all pears, allowing some to drizzle into grape/apple juice as well. Bake 20-25 min., or until pear halves are tender and lightly browned.

2. Meanwhile....stir together mascarpone cheese, granulated sugar, cinnamon and toasted walnuts (if using, and I highly recommend you do!).

3. To serve, arrange one pear half per plate. Top with cinnamon-mascarpone mixture, and then drizzle with the hot apple juice/balsamic juice that's collected in the baking dish. Sprinkle with a dash of kosher salt on top (trust me on this). Enjoy!