The Days of the Dewigs Lives

The Best Medicine

2011-05-25T14:32:00.000-07:00

Last night my dashingly handsome husband walked in the door with a brand new iPad. Sometimes there is an occasional perk to being a high school teacher, because his school distributed iPads to all of the teachers to familiarize themselves over the summer. It sort of felt like a Christmas gift in May, and since we are not an iPhone family, we were slightly over the moon about the whole thing. What are all of these things? Apps? Face time? Games? OH MY! Word on the street is that kids these days are using iPads in high school. You know, as opposed to paper & writing utensils. Children, what happened to good old fashioned glitter pens and mini personal pencil sharpeners?!

Anyway, we fumbled around for awhile and eventually came across the "Photo Booth" program (or is it an app? who knows...) and had some quality family photo shoot time. You guys- I have never, EVER laughed so hard in my life. Or if I have, it's been years. I was out of control, tears streaming down my face, belly aching hysterical over the twisted & distorted photos we were able to take of ourselves. I mean, really. Can you look at these pictures and not laugh out loud?

Yes, I'm aware that I resemble some sort of evil cartoon villain.

This is the one that sent us all into level 2 hysteria. Look at my sweet, beautiful baby! She looks insane!

After the laugh-fest was over, it took me some time to recover. Honestly, it was physically taxing expending all of those tears and giving my abs a much needed workout. And when I was ready to move on the the regular duties of the evening, I felt like I just took a one week cruise around the world & back. Exhausted, but so full of happiness for the memory we had just created.

God bless the iPad. Amen.

Shrimp, my Savior

2011-05-09T17:27:00.000-07:00

Image via Wikipedia
Today is one of those days. This house has fallen victim to the "worst season of allergies we've ever seen" (welcome, Spring!) and I'm in a ridiculous antihistamine-induced fog, barely able to keep my eyes open. This is bad news when it comes to the "bewitching hour", as my Mama refers to it, also known as "what in tarnations shall I make for dinner tonight?" Seriously, if I had a dime for every time I've asked myself this question....

Good thing I have some delightfully easy recipes stashed away for days just like this. Amongst them all, there is one that takes the prize for being the most low-maintenance dinner in my repertoire, while still being one of THE MOST delicious. Enter the brown-rice shrimp bowl! It's one of those meals where you put it all into one bowl, and simply commence eating. No side dishes necessary. I haven't officially calculated this, but I'm pretty sure it hits all the main food groups, so it's also a very smart dinner.

You should probably make this tonight, even if you aren't on allergy medication and on the verge of tears because you're so tired and your children are miniature Energizer bunnies. It's a tasty, healthy, fast, easy dinner and your taste-buds will insist on writing me a thank-you note for sharing it with you.

Brown Rice Bowl with Shrimp, Snow Peas and Avocado (Adapted from Everyday Food, Jan/Feb. 2008)

2 cups water
1 cup brown rice (**Alternatively, and much more efficiently, we use 2 packages of Trader Joe's Organic Brown Rice, found in the freezer section. Each "packet" takes 3 min. in the microwave, and it comes out absolutely delicious-- a true staple in our house!)

1/4 cup soy sauce
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice (from 1-2 lemons)
2 tablespoons rice vinegar
2 teaspoons brown sugar
1 tablespoon sesame oil (can use olive oil instead, depending on preference; we just like that slightly toasted/smoky taste)
1 pound peeled and deveined medium shrimp (again TJ's sells these guys frozen, already peeled & deveined, thanks be to God)
8 oz snow peas, ends trimmed and halved on the diagonal
1" long piece fresh ginger, peeled and diced small
1 avocado, cut into chucks
1/2 bunch green onions
2 cloves garlic, minced
2-3 tsp. sesame seeds (optional)

In a large saucepan, bring 2 cups water to a boil - add rice and salt (to taste). Cover, reduce heat and cook until water has been absorbed, anywhere from 35 to 45 minutes. (**Or just make your 3 minute TJ's organic brown rice.....)

In a small bowl, whisk together soy sauce, lemon juice, vinegar and sugar.

In a large skillet, heat sesame oil over medium-high. Add shrimp, snow peas, green onions, garlic and ginger - season to taste with salt and fresh ground black pepper. Cook until shrimp are opaque throughout and snow peas are bright green, about 2 to 3 minutes.

Evenly divide rice among four bowls. Top with shrimp mixture and avocado. Sprinkle with sesame seeds. Drizzle with the soy mixture or serve on the side.

Makes 4 servings.

Birthday Prep

2011-05-06T15:10:00.000-07:00

I love carrying on family traditions. One of mine from childhood is when someone in the family is celebrating a birthday, they 1) do not have to make their bed, 2) get to select from any of the typically forbidden "sugar cereals" from the grocery store, and 3) get to choose their own special birthday dinner, which Mama will cook upon request, and serve with lots of love. This is the background information that led to the conversation I had with Ben today, whose 5th birthday is less than a week away.

Me: Ben, I want to talk to you about your birthday dinner. If you could have anything, what would you like me to make for you? I can make you anything you want! It could be tacos, or I could make you a special pasta dish, or we could have homemade pizza. What do you think?

Ben: Hmmmm. Well, how 'bout you just make me some McDonald's? Okay, Mama?

Me: Ouch.

Ben: What?

Me: How about you sleep on it, and we'll talk about this again in a couple days.

Ben: Okay. But I want a toy with it too, okay Mama?

Spring-ology

2011-05-05T19:59:00.000-07:00

Photographic proof that spring has absolutely sprung around here:

A visit from these two, for starters! Dan's folks made the long (1,046 miles, to be exact) drive out from New Mexico to spend spring break with us, arriving the day before Easter. I don't know who had more fun- us or them. It's heavenly to have an extra set (or two) of hands in the house, helping us with the kids, ready to give countless hugs, share jokes, read books, and help with the everyday business that this house incurs. We all just soaked it in and relished in the cozy family time we'd been missing.

Here, "Opa" is reading to the kiddos, who are quite busy trying to find that impossible Goldbug . Sometimes I wish I could take the energy my father-in-law has, and bottle it up. I'd take a small dose of it everyday after breakfast. The man is 81, but I'm fairly certain he thinks he's still 50.

Easter morning! I realize they both look less than thrilled in this picture, but here they were that morning, moments beforehand shrieking with delight at what the Easter Bunny/Angel left for them. I think they were both irritated that my picture taking was interfering with jelly bean consumption.

Ella learned a lesson in accessories. Here she is with her first pair of sunglasses, and matching necklace/bracelet set. (Thank you, Target $1 section!) Since receiving these on Easter morning, she commented a few times, "I can't see! The sun is hurting my eyes! Need my sunglasses, Mom!" The "jewelry", however, has not been as popular; she vacillates between wanting to wear them while playing dress-up and wanting to stretch them to the point of destruction, hoping to watch the beads go flying everywhere.

My first lemon meringue pie of the season! It was an Easter sweet treat success! (Also, why do people say this is such an easy pie to whip up? I found it a bit complex, actually. Meringue? Lemon curd? Pie crust? Don't burn the meringue, but get the curd cooked all the way through, but also make sure the pie dough isn't raw, all at the same time? Sheesh). It was fabulous and consumed by all in one evening.

These two lovebirds clearly have Spring Fever. And a bit of a California tan, wouldn't you say? Alright, fine. It's just the "warmify" photo editing effect I applied to our skin tone. But isn't my husband handsome? And for the record, I absolutely have SOME form of fever called, "I can't wait for summertime to get here so we can co-parent and potty train that crazy daughter of ours, ASAP."

It must be Spring, because this kid has some major preschool senior-itis. It's the last few weeks of preschool, before he graduates and practically becomes an adult overnight. He is literally one week away from turning 5 years old. FIVE YEARS OLD!!!! If Dan & I had made a 5 year plan when Ben was born, it would already be time to move on to another 5 year plan, THAT'S HOW GIANT OF A BIRTHDAY THIS WILL BE! This boy has an imagination you would not believe. Example: he woke up at 4 a.m. this morning, convinced that bugs & snakes were crawling all over him, and even though he was awake and talking coherently, he would not believe me when I told him it was all a bad dream. "Mama, you don't understand. You weren't here, you didn't see them. They were huge snakes, and they probably went to hide under my bed when they heard you coming." Oh, dear.

Spring = warmer weather, which means family ventures out to new parks, hiking trails, etc. Last weekend we took the kids to Dennis the Menace Park for the first time (a park I went to visit on field trips in elementary school!), and it was as if we took the kids to Disneyland. In fact, we probably should have just told them that's where we were.....Anyway, the older Ella gets, the more the 2.5 year age difference shrinks between the two of them, and the more they learn to play together. Ben is so preciously protective of her, and wants to help her with everything, and she is sassy but affectionate with him, and the fact that they are holding hands in this picture while exploring a park from my very own childhood melts my heart into a puddle of butter. Mmmm, butter.

Speaking of this girl.....good gracious. I don't remember having this much fun with Ben at 2.5. I also don't remember being this exhausted with him. This girl is hilarious and ridiculously independent and passionate and a huge fan of major tantrums, and silly and loving and insists on wearing a tutu to bed at night. She's still a huge thumb sucker, and has brown crazy curls, and the most wonderful toddler tummy you've ever seen. We are enjoying her and falling in love with her all over again in a way we didn't see coming.

Yet another sign of spring: per my demands, lemonade has infiltrated our house for the first time this year, even in various forms! This stuff is just so darn delicious, and after some hard playtime, nothing else seems to quench our thirst. Also, it's delicious with vodka....

And then there's this; the ultimate sign that spring has sprung. Hang-dry laundry time has returned! I don't know what it is-- maybe it's seeing all of those beautiful colors up for display in the confines of our yard, or perhaps knowing that we're saving a couple bucks by doing so-- it just brings me so much joy to bask in the spring sunshine, hanging up wet laundry, listening and watching the kids run around while they play and destroy our backyard.

Notice how I did not mention "spring cleaning" as one of the signs that spring has sprung around here. I'll get around to it....maybe.

So He Thinks He Can Dance...

2011-04-17T14:03:00.000-07:00

What do you get when you mix river dancing with martial arts, sprinkle it with robotic movement and a dash of hip hop? You get my son, dancing interpretively to "Aqueous Transmission" (Incubus).

I realize probably every parent has this same thought about their child, but do you see why I think this child is destined for great things? Oh, Ben. I don't want you to grow up anytime soon, but I sure can't wait to see what you do with your life. Also, a special shout out to Ella, who has mastered the art of backup dancing & overall cuteness.

My Inner Martha & L-O-V-E

2011-04-14T19:38:00.000-07:00

In November of last year, one of my dearest and most fabulous friends got married. It was a wonderful celebration, full of tricky weather, and some of the most witty & creative people I've ever met. We had a ridiculous amount of fun, and I'm hoping that the bride & groom have a wedding party reunion every year (I suppose this is called an "anniversary") so we can recreate the magical fun that was had by all. (Did you catch that part, Alicia?) Before I continue, have a look at the darling, radiant couple, dancing a very saucy little tango at their reception. Also, you can't so much see this in the photo, but the beautiful bride literally had crystals dangling down her back. She really thought of everything, even back decor:

This was a very special wedding for both Dan & I. Not only did we get to leave The Kidlets behind with grandparents (our first weekend "away" in......oh gosh, years), but also Dan had the honor of performing the marriage ceremony, and I had the honor of being the Matron. Of honor. There was a lot of honoring going on.

Of course I wanted to gift them something special, but as the day got closer, I began to panic. Why hadn't I planned better, and thought of making them super unique, like a quilt (because I'm totally a quilter, remember?) months before? The registry items were rapidly dwindling, and nothing was exactly grabbing my attention. And then I came across an idea on Amy Butler's website. Well hello, gorgeous WALL ART!!! And then the crafting voices spoke to me. I will channel my inner Martha Stewart and craft them a wedding gift!

For those of you who just got uncomfortable with the thought of me crafting, I'll come right out and tell you (spoiler alert!) that it actually turned out fantastic! I could tell just by reading the pattern that not only could I actually pull this off, but I could also do so in a couple of days. And that's exactly how much time I had before it was time to hit the road for wedding weekend extravaganza. One of my charms is my ability to thrive on impending deadlines.

The first step was choosing the various fabrics I was going to use. Moment of truth: this step took me longer than all of the steps combined. Is there a medical diagnosis for people who cannot make decisions, especially in fabric stores? I walked around and pulled fabric bolts off the shelves and then walked away, around in a circle, back to pull off more bolts, then back to study the pattern for hours. It's really difficult to make such important decisions when in the presence of so much beauty. Sue me.

Ultimately I decided that almost half of my fabric choices would come from my own fabric stash at home, because they're the ones I liked best. Go figure!

Here, I've made a verbal and monetary commitment to the following fabrics, and thus began the unfolding of the Amy Butler "LOVE" wall art wedding gift. I love how happy each of the fabric choices are, and while they're a far cry from "match-y-match-y", they all go together so nicely:

Next it was time to print & cut out my pattern, tape it together, and assign fabric to each of the 4 "LOVE" letters. This was also one of those steps that took way longer than the entire project. Who knew cutting out letters was such a time commitment?:

Next, I cut out my letters and laid them out to make sure I was still in L-O-V-E with them. I was. Can you blame me? Have you ever seen such beauty in the form of letters?

Once I was able to finalize my letters, it was time to build the frame for the stretched canvas that would lay underneath the fabric background. I won't lie; this was one of those moments that a man sure comes in handy. And when I say "man", what I really mean is "man plus 2 kiddos", as this quickly became a family project. The family that crafts together, stays together! (right?!)

Any time Daddy pulls out the hammer, the kids flock to him.

The look on Ben's face says it all: Isn't Daddy the greatest frame builder you've ever seen? And Ella's like, "This is more fun then I know what to do with, so I'll just sit here with my darling tummy and look cute."

The next step involved some tricky canvas stretching + stapling + background fabric stretching & stapling. But I didn't take pictures of that step, so just imagine me stressing out and trying to make my staples even and getting nervous that I was going to somehow break the beautiful frame that my husband had just assembled. Silly me- not even My Inner Martha could break that frame. Here's the finished product:

Up close & personal:

Cute, right? The Bride (who lives many hours & hours away) claims it now hangs in their bedroom, and this warms my heart a million times over. I hope it serves as a reminder to L-O-V-E each other every morning they wake up together.

Feel like making your own pretty wall art? Here's the free Amy Butler pattern for your creative crafting pleasure. Have fun-- and seriously, if I can do this, really a-n-y-o-n-e can. For reals.

Some Good Ideas

2011-04-07T16:29:00.000-07:00

Me: Ben, you know what I was thinking? When it gets warmer, closer to summertime, we should start making our own ice cream again. Would you like to do that? We can come up with our own flavors and make a new batch everyday!

Ben: Yeah, that's cool! OR!!!!! (Cue wide eyes & wide grin) I know! Daddy could cut out all the concrete in the backyard and dig a pool for us! Wouldn't that be even better?

Me: Wow. Yes. You win.

Sweet Dreams

2011-04-02T00:10:00.000-07:00

I know they say money doesn't buy happiness. But don't you sometimes think "they" are not entirely correct?

Because I sure wish I had enough money to give my husband an entire day of pampering and relaxation. At this very moment he's sound asleep on our bed, curled up in the fetal position, and snoring away (a rarity; usually reserved for evenings of intoxication or extreme exhaustion. In this instance, it's the latter). Sometimes I wonder what it feels like to be the primary bread winner of the family, the man who singlehandedly holds an entire family together. The man who comes home from one job, and immediately changes clothes to prepare for his second job. This family could not work without him. I'm fairly certain I would crumble under that much pressure.

Looking in from the outside, it might appear that I'm the independent, free-spirited "strong" one. But this man is my rock, and anchors me so beautifully, so perfectly. I wish I could wake up in the morning and surprise him with a professional massage-- this I know would make him happy. But for now, I'll cuddle up next to him, cover up his cold feet that have escaped the warmth of our blankets, gently nudge him to breakup the snoring, and whisper in his ear,

"Thank you".

The Facts of Life

2011-03-30T20:27:00.000-07:00

A couple of months ago, Dan was driving around with the kids in the car doing errands, while I was at home eating bon-bons and working on my tan. Naturally.

When they got home, Dan nonchalantly mentioned that essentially Ben asked where babies come from, but not to worry because he "totally handled it". Immediately I panicked, for two reasons.

1) Ben is not yet even 5 years old. I was fairly convinced that this subject wouldn't even cross his mind for like 10 more years. This means that we've greatly underestimated his curious little brain by not planning any age-appropriate responses as of yet. How could we let this happen! People, may I remind you that this is what I went to school for? I mean, not specifically to explain sex to children, but I went to school to understand their little brains. My Early Childhood Education courses really could be renamed, "how to explain things to kids in an age-appropriate manner". It should be noted that I got A's in all of these courses.
2) Dan & I handle things quite differently when it comes to this stuff. I tend to use my E.C.E. voodoo magic and redirect the conversation (some might label this "avoidance"), and Dan tends to tackle things head on, even if he doesn't have a plan.

So here's how his impromptu sex-ed conversation unfolded.

(Um, and for the record- NO, I AM NOT PREGNANT)

Ben: Daddy, I think that Mommy is going to have another baby sometime.
Dan: You do? Why do you think that?
B: I just do. I think that she is gonna get a baby in her tummy soon.
D: Well, it doesn't really work that way, buddy. Mommies & Daddies have to want a baby- they don't just magically appear in Mommy's tummy.
B: Does God put the baby in Mommy's tummy?
D: Well, yes. Sort of. But Mommy & Daddy have a big role in it as well.
B: Like what? What do you do?
D: Well, Bud. There's a special hug that Mommy & Daddy do to make a baby.
B: Oh.
D: Yup. It's called the "marital embrace".
B: Ohhhhhhhh. I see. Do you like, put one arm around her neck, and Mommy puts her arm around your back?
D: Uh, sure Buddy. There's lots of ways to do it, but that's certainly one way to do it.

You see? THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I'M NOT THERE TO CONTROL THE SITUATION!

When I gave Dan a hard time about this interaction (and by "hard time", I mean that I shrieked a lot and used his full birth name), he wanted to know what I would have done differently.

Aside from EVERYTHING, I said, "Dan, if Ben wanted to know about where babies come from, I probably would have told him they are a miracle, and therefore an inexplicable mystery. And then I would have changed the subject to Star Wars and trucks."

So, um.....who's got a good book on explaining where babies come from for me us to borrow?

Reading Between the Lines

2011-03-16T13:59:00.000-07:00

In my mind, if a new wine aerator arrives on your doorstep just minutes before lunch prep begins, clearly it is a sign that God wants you to have a wine break with lunch. So that's what I'm doing. After all, it is Lent, and I wouldn't want to be disobedient. And who knew a glass of aerated wine would go so nicely with carrots & turkey slices, anyway?

In other news: Thank God I didn't give wine up for lent. Because then this would be a terribly tempting and ultimately disappointing afternoon.

Current Events

2011-03-09T20:00:00.000-08:00

When I was in junior high, I distinctly remember my best friend at the time posing one of life's most thought-provoking questions:
"Okay, if you HAD to choose-- like if your life depended upon choosing-- would you pick Charlie Sheen or his brother, Emilio Estevez?" (Note: when you're about 13, to "pick" a guy basically means: who would you fall in love with, marry, and then buy a house and have lots of babies with).

There was a long pause as I carefully considered my choices. There was much to weigh; both teen heart throbs, both entertaining actors, both quite rich. Heck, I'm not sure there was a "wrong" choice. But something about Charlie- the cool name, the darker hair, the rebellious image- it all screamed my name.

And so, much to the shock of my junior high best friend, I had to follow my heart and go with Charlie.

Fast forward twenty years to the Charlie Sheen of today, and the unpleasant train wreck that inevitably follows him and his "tiger blood". I think you know where I'm going with this.

So Melissa, if you're out there, I'd like to take this opportunity and officially change my Estevez brother selection. And I don't want to push the envelope here, but I'll go ahead and say: 2011 is going to be all about Emilio Estevez. Shame on you, Charlie. The 13 year old in me is raining on the inside.

Mother of the Year

2011-02-27T19:18:00.000-08:00

Image via WikipediaAs a matter of fact, YES.
I am breaking into my son's Valentine's Day candy generously gifted to him weeks ago by his tiny preschool friends, all while he sleeps peacefully (and without clue) just down the hall. It's all in an effort to keep my resolution this year of eating 1) more kale (speaking of, try these and season it like crazy and have a party in your mouth) and 2) more chocolate. Because who wants to be on their death bed one day, regretting their under-consumption of chocolate? There are dozens of other things I'll be too busy regretting, so I refuse to let a lack of chocolate be one of them. So obviously in this instance, the ends totally justify the means. My son needs a strong, determined Mama who sticks to her resolutions, right?

Anyway, as I was picking through the precious heap of Valentine's, I noticed that his friends gifted mostly name-brand chocolate this year. Nice touch, kids. This has not gone unnoticed in this house. Buddy, you are such a great judge of character. Clearly, friends like yours who gift name-brand chocolate are friends you should hang on to forever. Because when it comes to chocolate, one should really go big or go home. Who has time to mess around with Hershey's when there are dozens of Dove chocolate hearts screaming your name?

And this has been another motherly pearl of wisdom I pass down to you, my darling son.

Destination: Mini Break

2011-02-17T20:44:00.000-08:00

In less than 12 hours, Dan & I will be well on our way to a somewhat impromptu weekend away, sans children. That's right, we're hitting the road and headed for the darling winery-ville town of Paso Robles. Or, as I like to call it, "Romantic Mini-Break Extravaganza, 2011". This is a weekend that will be all about us, with no purpose other than to reconnect, enjoy using uninterrupted, complete sentences, and to have absolutely zero clean up responsibilities. The last time this happened was well before we even had children, so needless to say it's long overdue. The main focus, FOR ONCE!, will be each other. And wine tasting. And eating really great food that I have neither slaved over nor have to clean up after.

When you get this sort of weekend trip once every 6 years or so, it's difficult to know how to plan accordingly. I mean, there are so many directions we could take! Do we just sit in the hotel all day, basking in our alone time, and order trays and trays of room service? Do we plan for the optimum amount of fun by allotting every minute we're away to something fabulous? Do we just go with the flow? A combination of all the above? I have a feeling that the various Paso Robles wineries will be a fabulous starting point, and from there, we'll just fly by the seat of our pants. You know, sort of like the way we did things when it was just us two.

I'm sure there will be moments of temporary gloom when I'll think about the kids back at home with my (wonderful!) parents, and wonder what they're up to. This weekend, there will be no children calling out in the middle of the night, or awake and hungry at 6:30 AM. On a Saturday.

OH, THE SLEEPING IN THAT WILL BE DONE. This much I know.

The File Cabinet

2011-02-16T14:26:00.000-08:00

The other night, Dan & I had an unusual evening of productivity, especially for a weekday. Usually during the week, if we've eaten dinner together followed by putting leftovers in the fridge, we high-five each other and call it a day. Throw in designated "bath nights" for the kids, and now we're really taking the world by storm.

But the piles of paperwork lying around this place were beginning to make me feel claustrophobic, especially considering the combination of master bedroom and office we have in our sleeping quarters. We cleared off the desk. We filed things. We created a "to be burned during our family's first official summer bonfire" pile. Then we attacked the file cabinet.

Oh, the things you discover when you spend an hour filing things away with your husband....

The first thing I learned was that he likes to keep everything. When I came across blank, unused checks from a checking account we closed YEARS AGO, I realized that I probably need to step in a take a more active role as "co-filer" in this marriage. Done.

The second thing I learned was that the contents of his "personal" file folders are quite different from mine. His contain old high school transcripts, test scores, and college acceptance letters. My folders include fertility charting, decorating ideas, haircut styles, and paperwork from a job I left 5 years ago. Apparently Dan loved the letter "A" because his report cards were completely full of them. Across the board. Sometimes I wonder if he & I would have even been friends in high school, because while he was busy propelling himself to the top of his class academically, I was busy being a varsity cheerleader, snagging the coveted "Most Spirited!" award my senior year.

What can I say, I really loved having a good time, ALL THE TIME in high school. In cheerleading, this love for fun gets translated into the word "spirit". As in, I have spirit. Yes, I do. I've got spirit. How 'bout you?

I guess you can say that I am living proof that in the end, the nerd really does end up with the cheerleader. And I love that handsome nerd with all of my heart. (Perfect little plot for an 80s movie, right?)

There Is Hope

2011-02-08T13:47:00.000-08:00

Since the number one objective of this blog is to relay the everyday happenings of our little family, I can't not write about what we've indirectly been through and witnessed this past week. To write about anything else right now feels completely impertinent.

My sister-in-law's sister & her husband lost their beautiful 5 year old daughter, completely unexpectedly, a week ago Sunday. Most of you are quite familiar with the story by now, but for those of you who aren't, I believe this has been the most tragic loss our little community of friends & loved ones has ever experienced. It has literally rocked me to my core, made me slow down, hug my children more often, and rethink the things I've labeled as "hardships" in my life. How silly I can be, allowing something like a messy house to bring stress and discord to my home. How shallow I feel for occasionally allowing traffic to bring out the worst in me. It's beyond powerful when the life & death of a precious child can literally make you rethink your priorities in this world. Sweet Stella, if you only knew how much you've already impacted so many people!

Every day this week, I've woken up with a renewed state of mind: it is an honor that I get to spend today loving my children, my husband, and those I come in contact with. How blessed are those of us who have health, family, and love today....

My sister-in-law shared her own thoughts on this tremendous loss. I found it to be consoling and hope-giving, in a virtually devastating situation. In the midst of all of this, the power of love is truly irrefutable. You can read her beautiful tribute here.

Um, Hello?....Is This Thing On?

2011-01-26T20:13:00.000-08:00

How can I break this down in its easiest, simplest form?

To be succinct, I'll say this:
Nicole + full time Mama job + full time wife/household engineer duties + new part time high-stress job + holiday madness = a sad little blog that has been neglected for two months, 1 week & 4 days.

I did it! I broke it down, and it only took one sentence! See, I've been dreading this blog posting for quite some time. Especially when I consider those of you who have remained so faithful to me, sometimes emailing me or asking me in person, "Uh, what the hell happened to your blogging?" If you were one of those people, did you sense my nervous laughter and my stressed-induced tic? Or the stammering for the words to explain? It's hard to REALLY explain where I've been, and why blogging went out the window, except to say- a high stress lifestyle, such as the one I've been introduced to the last two months, apparently sucks the life out of every creative brain cell I own. There were many days I'd sit down in front of the computer, ready to write after a long day, and all that I could muster was something along the lines of "my feet hurt and sure do sweat a lot when I'm working".

So, I thought I'd spare you.

But as my glamorous part-time job as a seasonal sales associate at Williams-Sonoma seems to be slowly waning (as expected), suddenly there's room in my brain for other things. Like people, showering, exercising, weekend football. Lately, I've noticed there is a creative itch that has (re)surfaced. And I'm here to get scratching.

After all, Ben has his first loose tooth (WHO GETS A LOOSE TOOTH AT 4.5?), and Ella is flirting with the idea of potty training. And there was a recent incident in which Dan ended up explaining to Ben how babies are made without me there to control the conversation.

So, yeah. We've got some things to talk about, sweet blog of mine.

Baby steps to getting back on the saddle again.

If I May...

2010-11-14T22:10:00.000-08:00

I rarely make recommendations when it comes to other blogs (not intentional, I just forget to do it), but my darling friend Christina recommended this recently, and I'm so glad that she did. Read Nella's birth story and be prepared to (most likely) cry and (absolutely) fall in love with this mother's precious story. I don't know what moved me more- the heart-wrenching story or the stunning photographs. It all touched my heart and took my breath away. I promise- it's a story worthy of your time.

Thursday

2010-11-11T09:47:00.000-08:00

Today is a tough one.

Ella was up from 2 a.m. til 4 a.m. with a gnarly case of the throw-ups. Though she seems better this morning, it's not completely out of her system (let's just say I'm VERY grateful we buy diapers in bulk at Costco).

The dishes are piled up and out of control. This might not seem like a big deal, but it's like I can SEE all of the old food turning to stone on my beautiful plates, right before my very eyes.

Ben doesn't have school today (thank you, Veterans!) and is going nuts with the lack of socialization and stimulation around here. Mama is consequently going nuts-ier.

Ella is (understandably) grumpy & exhausted and wants to be held every 5 minutes. Which is hard when you're trying to stay on top of throw-up (etc.) laundry from early morning hour.

I have somehow managed to injure my knee. It's swollen and puffy and feels like someone injected it with Jello.

Somehow I suddenly turned OLD.

In the 2 minute window I was granted to sort through vomit laundry, I found the world's largest potato bug in our washing machine. Let's not even try to figure out how in tarnations this landed in my house, let alone my beautiful washing machine. Let's just sit for a moment and soak in its monstrosity. Please note the furry hair pricklies and claw like toes. Holy creep fest, Batman.

I screamed and shivered so hard I almost threw up. Also....I mistakenly thought it was a large piece of lint or paper, so I actually PICKED IT UP. Like, in my hand. A giant, dead, wet, limp potato bug. Is it possible for things to get worse around here?

Dan is supposed to be gone all weekend on a retreat. Leaving me alone to tend to The Littles. One of which may or may not still be barfing. Who knows; by then, we might ALL be barfing.

My morning coffee is untouched; cold and depressed. Not even 30 seconds in the microwave can fix this.

We're still a whole day away from Friday.

The almond-scented raspberry cake with cream cheese frosting that Auntie Favi made for birthday girl Ella is now officially gone.

I see no reason to leave the comfort & warmth of my pajamas today.

How, in heaven's name, do single mothers DO IT?

What this day needs is a Starbucks double tall Eggnog Latte. First person on my doorstep with this drink wins unconditional love forever. And a dead mammoth-sized potato bug.

Reason # 276,345 Why I Love Being Married

2010-11-09T19:38:00.000-08:00

Me: You know what I haven't done in a long time?
Him: Um.....kegels?
Me: Wow. I was actually referring to Ben's asthma inhaler, but thanks for the reminder.

Our Favorite Soup

2010-10-25T14:39:00.000-07:00

We had a wonderful wet, stormy weekend- the kind that I live for and dream about all year long! I know many people get inspiration from warm, sunny days, but I am a girl who draws upon the power of Cozy. A rainy grey day that calls for wool socks, hot cocoa and lazy afternoon lounging is pure magic in my world. On days like these, I know no other way to warm and fill our tummies than to make a large pot of soup to feast on all week. Partner it up with some homemade bread, and I feel like I've given my family the biggest hug they could ever wish for.

A very close family friend of ours passed away about 8 years ago after battling cancer. Her name was Kathy, and if you don't know her directly- trust me, you know someone who probably does. She was the most loving, generous, outspoken, hilarious, good-hearted woman I knew, and she was an inspiration to me in more ways than I can even count. And good heavens, the woman could cook. She loved to feed people, and people loved to be fed by her. Hers was the house that everyone wanted to come to for parties and social gatherings. She was an Italian genius in the kitchen- she left behind an incredible legacy, and lucky for us, one of the best recipes for soup I've ever had.

While I was enjoying the rain yesterday afternoon, I had a surprising wave of grief come over me, as grief often does, suddenly deeply missing Kathy. Couple this with not a clue for what to make for dinner, and suddenly the inspiration came together. I would make her soup and make some bread and cook my way through my temporary moment of grief. As we were eating dinner last night, not only did my family fall in love with the soup (Ben had 4 bowls), but I was able to explain where I got the recipe, and tell my children a little bit about who Kathy was. I can't help but think she was smiling down on us- heavenly tears of joy filling her eyes, seeing my little family around the table, eating her soup and cherishing her memory. There are no words to express the imprint she's left on our hearts.

Thank you, Kathy, for this soup. And for everything.

Photo courtesy of Nicco Zuffanelli

Kathy Z's Sausage & Vegetable Soup

*NOTE: Being the crazy Italian woman that she was, Kathy cooked "loosely"; meaning, every single ingredient listed is an approximation. You can add or take away any ingredient to tailor it to your specific taste. That's the beauty of this recipe. My personal notes are included in parenthesis.

Ingredients:

-1 zucchini, sliced

-1/2 lb. green beans, halved lengthwise (I used about 3/4 lb because we love green beans)

-1/2 lg. onion, chopped

-1 can crushed tomatoes (I thought this meant a smaller, 14 oz. sized can, but when I went to the store, the only can of crushed tomatoes that were available were the larger 28 oz. size. It's definitely a stronger tomato base & flavor, but it was to die for.)

-6 c. chicken stock (I ended up adding at least a cup of water to thin out the crushed tomatoes a bit. Again, this is all to taste! Typically I use the low-sodium stock so I can control how much salt we're having; however the store was sold out of low-sodium so I used the regular stock. According to my husband, this actually MADE the soup....go figure....)

-Big handful of mini cheese ravioli (Trader Joe's carries these, but I didn't have time to go out that way. Instead, we used a small soup pasta, called "Stelline ". They are these cute little star shapes and they were excellent in this soup! I used 1/2 box, or 1/2 lb.)

-5 cloves garlic, minced

-1 lb. Italian sausage- sweet or spicy

-*I also added 2 carrots and 2 celery sticks for additional flavor, both chopped

-Salt & pepper to taste

In dutch oven or large soup pot, saute sausage until beginning to brown over medium high heat. Add onion, garlic (and in my soup, this is also when I added the carrots & celery), until vegetables soften. Add all other ingredients EXCEPT for the pasta. Bring to a boil, and turn down to a simmer to cook the rest of the vegetables until al dente (approximately 10-15 minutes). While the soup is simmering, boil pasta (ravioli or other) according to package directions. Add the cooked pasta to the soup just before serving. Season to taste. Serve soup with hearty serving of parmesan sprinkled on top. It also tastes wonderful with a shot of olive oil on top. Enjoy!

Rainy Nights

2010-10-23T15:28:00.000-07:00

Image via WikipediaOn a chilly rainy day, some people like to warm themselves in an ambiance of coziness by building a fire. But my husband (read: fire builder) is away, and I'm here to tell you: in a pinch- a large glass of hot sake does the trick exquisitely. Cheers!

Ode to the Night Owl

2010-10-22T21:33:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, Dan woke up to the sound of our dog Truman, barking from his dog cave (which by day doubles as our laundry room) at the god-awful hour of 1:30 a.m. Since we live somewhat in the stick-ville countryside, we tend to get all sorts of wild creatures in our neighborhood at night. Often times it's nothing more than an obnoxious kitty who's trying to throw a late night party in our yard, intentionally driving our dog bonkers. And therefore ruining our circadian rhythm. This is why I hate cats. Also because I'm allergic to them and they make my eyes red & itchy. And because they have the most presumptuous egos, rubbing up and down on my leg, assuming that surely I'm just DYING to pet the darn thing. Gross. Apologies to all my feline-loving pals, but I can't do the whole cat hair thing. They make my knees wobbly and my tummy nervous.

Anyway, this particular evening (and by evening, I mean very early morning) Dan opened the door and let Truman run out into the backyard and do his watchdog "thing" and thoroughly investigate any unauthorized activity that had taken place moments before.

That's when Dan walked back into the bedroom a few minutes later and said, "Um, babe? I'm pretty sure Truman just got sprayed by a skunk."

To which I growled, "What do you mean you're PRETTY SURE? Did he or--- OH DEAR LORD IN HEAVEN! THE SMELL! THE EYE WATERING STENCH! GET OUT OF THE BEDROOM! IT'S ON YOU! MY NOSTRILS HAVE BEEN SINGED! WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DOOOOO?"

So yes. Truman had indeed gotten sprayed by a skunk.

Being new to the dog-skunking world, we were completely clueless as to what to do. Sure, we could Google step-by-step directions, but how does one sort through millions of people's opinions when time is OF THE ESSENCE? Also, firing up the computer sounded like a lot of work, and I was right in the middle of some serious REM sleep that may or may not have involved John Mayer dreams.... maybe if I just close my eyes, this will all disappear.....

Oh, wait. It's really difficult to fall back asleep when there's that annoying SKUNK SMELL PERMEATING THE HOUSE. (I'd like to take a quick detour here and pose the question: do skunks do anything that contributes to our society/earth in a positive way? Seriously. Is their only job to spray other animals and ruin perfectly wonderful early morning dreams? Please tell me they have another purpose in this world.)

This is when a Night-Owl best buddy comes in handy. Whenever something happens in our lives and we don't know quite what to do, or how to handle it- particularly between the hours of 11pm-5am, we call our awesome friend, who also happens to be named Dan. If you don't have a Dan in your life, you should get one, because generally speaking, they bring about tremendous things. Sometimes having two Dans in my life gets confusing, but I'm not complaining. For the purposes of avoiding any further confusion, we'll refer to my non-husband Dan as Dan2.

Please meet Dan2 (+ the ocean):

Over the years, Dan2 has helped us in many late night urgent-but-not-quite-emergency types of situations. There was the time we heard gunshots. There was the time our neighbor insisted on driving his tractor at 2 a.m. There was the time we needed a marriage therapist. There was the time we were bored, or had a rare case of insomnia. Naturally, Dan2 is always wide awake, so over the years he's become our go-to man when we need something from the outside world.

Night Owls are quite handy.

As my Dan was stripping off his skunk scented PJ's, I didn't know what to do other than reach for the phone and call Dan 2. Being a dog owner himself and having had multiple dog-skunking experiences, he was full of suggestions. We were instructed to make a potion of tomato juice, baking soda, and hydrogen peroxide. He stayed on the phone with us, walked us through the process, and helped us create a shopping list of necessary items. Oh, that's right. A grocery store visit was necessary because we didn't have any large cans of tomato juice on hand. Not just any grocery store....the one about 15 minutes away was the only one operating 24 hours.

It's hard to be a dog owner.

So my Dan was off, residual skunk smell and all. Moments later, as I was prepping the scene for dog-washing and deskunking, I heard a car pull into our driveway. It's now probably around 2:30 a.m., and the only thing that comes to my mind is, Great. Dan just got in an accident on the way to the grocery store while retreiving tomato juice. The cops are here to tell me he's been taken to the hospital. My house reeks of skunk. This is officially the dumbest night of my life.

But really, it was Dan2, ready to save the day.
You guys....he showed up with (are you ready for this?): every necessary de-skunking ingredient, rain gear attire, gloves, breathing mask, dog washing potions & equipment, and even a dog-washing bench to sit on. I was in my unmatching PJ's with bed head and morning breath, grateful but speechless.

As if this wasn't enough, he walked in with his game face, ready for battle and said, "Where's the dog? I've got this." AND THEN HE PROCEEDED TO WASH AND DE-SKUNK OUR DOG. I'm telling you: y'all need to get yourselves a Night Owl best friend. But I'm not willing to share ours; you'll have to go find your own.
Anyway, I love a good 3 a.m. photo op:

Don't be scared; though it looks like blood, really Truman is just covered in tomato paste. That stuff works magic.

Here's Dan2, the only person I know who can de-skunk a dog WITH A SMILE.

Here we are, approximately 3a.m. Happy to have a clean puppy. Even happier that somehow we avoided getting our pretty little hands dirty & stinky.

After repeatedly thanking Dan2 for his above & beyond helpful services, he replied with,

"What? That's just what friends do. It's no big deal. You'd do the same for me."

I don't know how to break this to you, Dan2, but I'll try to do this gently. I'm pretty sure that if you ever called me at 2 in the morning to tell me your dog got sprayed by a skunk, the chances of me getting out of bed and driving to your house to help clean up the mess are slim to none. I don't even think I would hear the phone ring at that hour. In fact, I can say with the utmost confidence that I would definitely NOT show up at your house ready to bathe your dog.

But please take note: we love you dearly. We'll just have to find alternative ways to show you.

Summer's Finest

2010-10-12T14:31:00.000-07:00

Many months ago, in the early days of Spring, Dan & I took a hot date to Costco and bought a three pack of already happily-blooming tomato plants, which included three different varieties. We were so excited! Time for tomato planting & harvesting, sweet family of mine! We eat a plethora of tomatoes around here- almost every night in our salads, always on burgers (remember these sliders? Still a family favorite), and often just drizzled with olive oil & kosher salt on top. In fact, I've been known to spend half of my weekly Farmer's Market budget on gorgeous (and the not so gorgeous, but cheaper and still just as tasty) heirloom tomato varieties, so the thought of going out to our own backyard to pick them was a concept too exciting for words (that is, for Mom; not so much for everyone else).

But I was nervous. I've been known to kill almost every plant we've tried to grow around here. I don't know what I'm doing wrong- I water, I whisper to them, I wait, and I give them space. Inevitably, they die because apparently finding the balance between too much water and not quite enough is impossible when you're me. My basil plant is in a complete state of rebellion- constantly trying to reflower itself and will only give me basil leaves the size of my thumb nail. How am I supposed to make pesto with thumb nail sized basil leaves? It's a disgrace to my Italian ancestors. Maybe basil rearing skills skip a generation. This is my defense.

Anyway, we were left with no choice but to forge ahead! Mom's non-green thumb was not going to keep us from trying. Even the kids got involved in the watering process. No amount of stubborn green tomatoes could kill our hopeful little spirits!

Watering tomatoes is really so much more fun in a swimsuit. Here, Ella is proving that point.

Ben takes his tomato watering quite seriously. So sometimes I "accidentally" spray him with the hose to get him squeling with sheer deight.

In defense of the green tomatoes, we had an unusually cold, gray summer here in Santa Cruz. Apparantly this does not mesh well with tomato growing. Plants really do need sunshine- who knew? And then suddenly, one day, the tomatoes all got together and decided to turn red. The most beautiful deep tomato red you've ever seen! Even though the army of snails had their way with my plants over the course of the summer, we must have done something right. Because we have more tomatoes than I know what to do with. So for now, I line them up on our kitchen windowsill and show them off like they're my personal trophy collection. Who's suddenly in the mood for a Caprese salad?

Good Stuff

2010-10-12T12:12:00.000-07:00

Oh, how I needed this today. Perhaps you do, too.

“All that is necessary to break the spell of inertia and frustration is this: Act as if it were impossible to fail.”

– Dorothea Brande

Footloose

2010-10-02T20:28:00.001-07:00

Back in the day before I was married and had kids, I always pictured myself having spontaneous dance parties with my family, the kind where everyone genuinely lets loose and displays their inner dance genius. Then, once I met and fell in love with Dan, I knew these future dance parties would be inevitable. The man is a dancing machine, one I can hardly keep up with. On the dance floor he's been known to steal the show, particularly at weddings. There was the time he wore his tie around his head, bandanna style, while moonwalking. There was the time he used the trees at an outside reception as dance props. There was the time where SEVERAL people grew suspicious that he might be a "wedding crasher", given the way he moved with such uninhibited freedom. There was even a very animated T-Rex impersonation during the toast portion of our own wedding, but I digress.

So it should come as no surprise that our offspring have a deep passion for dancing, and find ways to incorporate it into our daily routine as often as possible. Example: After a long, tiring day, Ben might offer this gem of advice: "Mom, we should probably just go home, and have a dance party." And of course, we usually do because nothing can melt my anger or stress or frustration like seeing my babies trying to imitate their crazy parents on the living room dance floor.

I am beyond thrilled that I was somehow able to capture this mini mid-day dance party with the kiddos. Make sure to keep a close eye on Ben- all the way up to the very last second of the video.

Oh my.

Smitten

2010-09-27T22:15:00.000-07:00

Image by Gabriela Camerotti via FlickrI love that, even after nearly 6 years of marriage, it still gives me goosebumps and butterflies to hear my husband on the phone say, "Alright, I'm packing up here at work and coming home now". I imagine that I might evoke the same feelings in him when I put a really big plate of pasta and a glass of wine in front of him after an exceptionally long day. I guess in our own little ways, we're learning what to say & do to keep this marriage alive and exciting. I'm so grateful I married a man that's as committed to the "long haul" as I am.

Preschool

2010-09-23T15:20:00.000-07:00

So I'm a bit behind in the blogging, and now stories and events in our lives have gotten majorly backlogged. I feel like we went from not a whole lot going on to everything is going on in the span of a couple weeks. I was overwhelmed with how many things I've been wanting to blog about, and didn't know where to begin. And then, the wise words of Fraulein Maria to the Von Trapp children entered my brain and I realized, Duh. Let's start at the very beginning. A very good place to start.

So we'll start with a whopping two weeks ago, a.k.a. Ben's first week of Preschool! This has been a landmark 4 years and 4 months in the making, and I cannot tell you the joy that the separation of 4 hours, twice a week has brought to my relationship with my boy. We actually have time now to miss each other, time to look forward to spending together. He wants to cuddle more than ever before, wants me to hold him on my lap after dinner and hug and kiss him. It's like he just realized that I'm not just the chef & housekeeper around here. I'm a mom with squishy parts that are probably really great to cuddle up to. Sometimes I wish I could cuddle up with me, too.

However, don't let all this cuddling fool you. This child did not show one second of sadness or separation anxiety when the big day arrived. Just because he's all lovey dovey on his days off does NOT mean he isn't enjoying preschool every second that he's there. The pictures from his first day of school depict this perfectly. Who IS this overly confident, Mr. Too Cool For School extrovert?

(Are you kidding me? The thumbs up and the squinted cool-boy eyes? Did I mention that he insisted on posing before I snapped any of these photos?)

Nope. No lack of confidence issues going on here.

Sissy never likes to miss a great photo op.

In front of the preschool, which just so happens to be the cutest little red chapel building you've ever seen. And yes, there's even a white picket fence around it.

In the classroom, ready to play with the tools. It's a shame he's so introverted and holding back his first day, don't you think?

And in closing, I leave you with the mother of all photos. There is so much to love about this picture, but let me point out my favorite's: 1) Ben. It's probably hard to recognize him, because clearly he's been transformed into a superhero with his new-found superhero cape, and his new best friend, Maizie. Maizie is awesome because she's always willing to play superhero games AND cars. This is obviously a match made in heaven. 2) Ella, my little mini-me multi-tasking wanna-be Mama. I love her. And at just under 2 years old, I am very impressed by her abilities to hold a conversation on the phone and keep her baby happy. She screams EVERY SINGLE TIME we have to leave preschool and doesn't get to stay. 3) Since it was his first day, Ben is wearing a name tag so his teachers could learn the new students names quickly. HE IS NOT THE ONLY BEN IN THE CLASS! I was shocked and slightly taken aback. We've never met another little boy named Ben! We've met grown-up Bens and have seen celebrity Bens on movies, but never another real life little boy Ben. According to his teachers, I needn't worry; he's already made quite a name for himself around there.

Caliente

2010-09-01T20:23:00.000-07:00

The other day Dan received a gift at work. This is not completely out of the ordinary, as people generally enjoy giving teachers gifts every now and then. Usually there's a card attached expressing something to the effect of "sorry you get paid so terribly, thanks for all you do". It's awesome. We love it, and it only validates our choice to continue having Dan stay in the education field. And while we're here, might I make mention of those Starbucks gift cards that are thrown our way every now & again? GOLD MINE! Am I right, fellow teachers or teachers' wives? I'm telling you, it's the ultimate pick-me-up perk. And yes, I'm usually the one who ends up with those gift cards. What can I say? My man loves me. All the way to Starbucks.

But yesterday, this is what Dan received:

Some fairly authentic looking spicy peppers.

Apparently the word got around his campus that his wife has a thing for spicy foods. And it's true, I do occasionally declare "MAS CALIENTE!" from the stove when I'm feeling extra saucy. Except nowadays I cook for two kidlets who aren't the biggest fans of spice, so I rarely indulge. Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled with this gift, and I want to use them wisely. But what are they exactly, and what am I supposed to do with them? And should I mention that Ben thought the green ones were green beans, and was caught milli-seconds before taking a giant bite through one? No, I probably shouldn't mention it because I'm certain we would've ended up in the E.R. And the doctors would have asked me what type of pepper he bit into, and I would have no idea. And eyebrows would have been raised suspiciously.

So, cyber-world. What do I do with them? (And seriously, what are they?) And just so you know, I'm extra interested if the suggestions involve cheese.

Those Were The Days

2010-08-28T13:13:00.001-07:00

This morning I got a good laugh while recalling the youthful days of 11 years ago, when I would secretly anticipate- dare I say wish- to get carded. I would proudly whip out my legitimate photo ID, displaying a young, freshly legal 21 year old who could buy any bottle of alcohol desired. Finally! A real ID! I was of legal age! It took 21 long, agonizing years, but I had arrived, and I was most likely buying cheap wine to celebrate.

Fast forward to today, just days before my 32nd birthday, and not much has changed. I still like to buy wine, especially if it's cheap and delicious (Trader Joe's Coastal, at $3.99/bottle, you never disappoint). I like to spare the cashier the awkwardness of having to ask, so I still get excited to whip out my photo ID and have it ready before even prompted. The only difference now is...9 times out of 10, the cashier usually responds with, "Oh, that's ok, sweetie. I don't need to see that." ROUGH TRANSLATION: Let's face it lady, you are obviously over 21. Just put the card away nice & easy, and stop the wishful thinking. And perhaps it's time you rethink your moisturizer routine. And while we're at it, is that an entire patch of gray hair growing on the side of your head?

So today when the grocery checker asked me if I remembered a certain character's name from the 1970s hit show, "The Waltons" I may have accidentally used an "outside voice" to announce the fact that I wasn't even born when that show was a raging hit. And when he raised his eyebrows in utter shock and said in his "outside voice", "REALLY?", I might have thrown my pork tenderloin at his forehead. (Just kidding, you know me; I would never ruin a perfectly good pork tenderloin.)

The Best Age...Really

2010-08-22T20:56:00.000-07:00

I'm sure I've said this to myself with the turn of every month, but Ella really is the best age right now. At 21 months old, she is bursting at the seams with personality, smiles, mostly coherent words, deep belly laughs, love for her baby dolls, obsession with shoes & her daddy. As much as I loved (and admittedly, slightly miss) the major milestone months of baby tricks such as crawling, walking & talking, the tricks that Ella can perform now are so much more exciting and meaningful to me. She can pucker her lips for a kiss. She can listen and follow through with 2-step directions. She can put her shoes on & off (and on & off, and on & off). She runs to her Mimi & Papa and screams their names when we arrive to their house. She asks me to lie down so that we can cuddle together. She loves getting her toenails painted. She apologizes to me when she accidentally hurts me or frustrates me. But tonight she showed off a new trick just moments before I laid her in her crib for bedtime. She spotted the moon outside her window, and wide eyed and full of giddy squeals, she blew it kisses goodnight.

There is such a rich abundance of 4 year old testosterone filling the house right now that demands so much of my attention and energy. As wonderful as that is (and by wonderful, I mean exhausting), it feels terrific to have a girl that I can throw a tutu on, and whose hair is the perfect length for pig tails and flower clips.

A Cliff's Notes Guide: Gender Roles

2010-08-20T10:08:00.000-07:00

This (early) morning while I was having "cozy time" in bed with the kids, Ben, who must have had some serious ants in his pants, kept "accidentally" kicking or bonking me in the gut. Ella & I were perfectly still, lying cuddled up close, and this crazy person next to us was somewhat ruining the moment. I was doing my best to handle the situation with patience, but he should really know better then to mess with his mother before she's had her first cup of coffee. First, I thought I could simply scare him off with my less-than-fresh morning breath. After that failed, I asked him to please stop wiggling around so much or he'd have to leave the warm cocoon of my bed, and this is what went down:

Ben: Well, Mama, did you know that I can't really sit still right now because girls just really like to be loving. But boys really like to be brave. So you & Sissy have to be loving, but I'm being brave right now.

Me: Um, okay. But Ben, girls aren't the only ones who like to be loving. Boys like to be loving, too.

Ben: Well..... sometimes they like to be loving. But FIRST they like to be brave, and THEN they can be loving. Because that's the truth about boys.

If you've never read John Gray's best-seller Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus, don't bother. Ben just did you a favor and summed it all up for you. And yes, for those interested, he'll be available to provide couples counseling for a nominal fee.

Grief

2010-08-19T13:49:00.000-07:00

I've been laying low the past few days, sorting out some events that have recently taken place in our lives. One of Dan's colleagues- a wonderful, loving, and sweet man who has done nothing greater in his role as vice-principal than support Dan beautifully- just lost his 21 year old son in a small private plane crash last Friday. When a tragedy of such magnitude hits this close to home, it's difficult to get through the day without feeling incredibly selfish. So, I got stuck in traffic for 20 minutes. So what? I have a 4 year old who is driving me nuts. So what? It's the reason I haven't even dared blog in a week, because suddenly I've gained a whole new level of perspective. When someone you know and love is enduring the most painful moment in their life, somehow it just feels wrong that our lives get to continue, and that such trivial everyday events continue to unfold.

Right now I'm just completely overwhelmed at the juxtaposition of life and death; this family, mourning the loss of their precious son, a fact I am reminded of 1,000 times a day with every moment I get to spend with my children, and with every new memory we are lucky enough to create. Now that I'm a parent, the thought of losing a child takes my breath away. The possibility alone stings my heart. I cannot fathom anything more painful, and I'm left feeling helpless and unsure of how we can support their family in this time of tremendous grief. I find that I'm putting myself in their position multiple times throughout the day, asking, "What would I want from friends & family? How would I want to be comforted?" And so, I've made them a loaf of homemade bread, which will be hand delivered by Dan this afternoon. He'll go to their house to sit with them, to perhaps cry with them, to just be with them. That's the thing about grief- it strips us down to the fragile, vulnerable core, and bonds humans together in a way unlike any other. All we can do now is pray, and let our flood gates of love open wide. I know they'll be taking baby steps towards finding peace. As for today, I just pray for an ample dose of hope.

"Earth hath no sorrow that heaven cannot heal."

-Thomas Moore

Social Graces

2010-08-13T21:21:00.000-07:00

Now that Ben is a little over 4 years old, we're entering a new phase in our parenting where we are forced to teach him some basic social graces. (Insert weary sigh of fatigue). The kid has the vocabulary and annunciation skills of a 10 year old, so when he says something to a stranger (or even worse, a non-stranger) that makes Dan & I blush and laugh nervously, chances are he was understood and heard on the receiving end, loud and clear. When you couple his innocent 4 year old curiosity with his extroverted social personality, things come out of his mouth that either make me laugh or break out in a sweat. Sometimes, it's both.

A few weeks ago, we went as a family to our favorite park in the late afternoon. We got to talking with a man who was there walking his dog, a friendly though fairly rough-around-the-edges kind of guy, probably in his late 50s. (We'll call him George). Ben was off in the distance playing in the sandbox when he looked up and realized that there was some form of socialization going on without him, so he came barreling over to join the conversation, and relentlessly show off his Spiderman-like moves, muscles, and sound effects. This is usually the time in the conversation where I would introduce Ben to the 3rd party stranger (i.e. George), trying desperately to model good etiquette. But lately, I'm just trying to show Ben that there are ways of interacting and impressing a stranger other than shooting phantom "webs" at them or insisting that they feel his giant Spiderman biceps. (You might think I'm joking; I'm not).

However, right after George was finished talking about his own personal system for graffiti control at the park, I introduced Ben to this new stranger. After an enthusiastic hello Ben immediately declared something along the lines of,

"Hey, my Dad is way bigger than you."

Dan & I both laughed- because it really was funny, especially considering this was not a small man we were talking to. On the contrary, I'm pretty sure he was bigger than Dan & I put together. But then, trying to segue from a statement like that is nearly impossible. There is no good response deemed appropriate for a situation like that one. So aside from laughing nervously and feeling more awkward than a girl at a junior-high dance, what did I do? What did the Mother and Teacher of social etiquette say to her son?

"Hey Ben, did you want to show him your awesome Spiderman muscles?"

Camping, Revisited

2010-08-05T22:07:00.000-07:00

Alright, let's be honest. Nobody thought I'd EVER get around to this post, right? Even I am filled with more self-loathing than ever before. Shame on me for taking two months to write about this major life event! I mean, this alleged "camping trip"was practically a whole lifetime ago, and it's not exactly fresh on my brain now. It's like the meat you see in the grocery store that has a special fluorescent orange discount sticker on it because of its rapidly changing color and interesting smell. (Which makes me wonder, who buys that meat? Here's what I say: if I'm in a position where I don't have enough money to buy fresh, un-rotten meat, then I vote going without. But that's just me.) Anyway, that's my brain when it comes to this little trip. Once I lost the original camping posting due to some freak computer glitch, I sort of lost the will to blog about it ever again, but I feel I owe it to my kids to have it properly documented for their sake. Otherwise, they may never believe that it actually happened. Nothing like a little crazy Mom guilt to light a fire under my ass.

Alright, buckle up! Here we go:

Here, we have a very handsome & robust Dan, modeling his camping backpack from the days of his camping bachelorhood (he's a man of SO many talents, that husband of mine). He was very excited to show me how much crap this thing could actually contain. If you look below his elbow closely, you can see that there's even a compartment for toilet paper. Such a smart backpack! Camping learned lesson #1: it's really helpful when you go camping with a husband who is so giddy to be reunited with nature, he'll even pose for backpack pictures.

I realize my awesome photography skills didn't capture much else but glare in this photo, but if you strain to look through that, you will see our very jam-packed car. Camping learned lesson #2: Camping with children requires a whole lot of stuff. What you see in this car is basically everything we own. I was nervous I'd forget SOMEthing and then be miserable for 48 hours, but in reality, I don't think we utilized half of what we brought. Rookies!

Here the kids are strapped in & ready to roll, but not unlike dogs, could probably sense Mama's tense nerves and were probably experiencing a tummy butterfly or two themselves. On second thought, maybe they were just scared things were going to crush them, because please notice the mountain of cargo behind them.

Here, Ella is like, "You guys are crazy and make me want to jump out of this dang car seat, but you do always feed me, so therefore I'll stick around and surrender to this chaos." For a baby under 2, she really is wise beyond her years. Also, aren't her rag-a-muffin pigtails the cutest you've ever seen?

Here, Ben is like, "Doesn't this blue shirt bring out my gorgeous blue eyes? Also, are we there yet? WHY DOES IT LOOK LIKE WE'RE STILL PARKED IN THE GARAGE?"

So fast forward the fairly uneventful 60+ minute car ride up to Big Basin, and now we've arrived. Except timing wasn't our greatest strength that day because we didn't have much daylight left, and I won't lie; there was some panic as the fellas set up camp. The realization of- wait, there are zero light switches we get to flip when it gets dark- slowly set in. Nobody wants to set up a (ginormous) tent in the darkness. So the boys huddled up, devised a plan, and got to work. My Dan is on the left, our dear friend (the "other" Dan) is on the right. Please notice his kneepads- this is serious camping business.

They saved the day! Tent assembled! Number of injuries: 0. Sounds like the perfect time to open a bottle of wine!

Isn't it breathtakingly gorgeous? Those giant wonderful trees! The delicious fresh air! Even the dirt was sort of pretty. Side note: our Mercedes-of-a-tent came fully loaded with a "front porch" area. I was sort of hoping it would be equipped with electricity as well, but I guess we had an older model.

This is Ben's semi-new favorite person in his world, and his name is Gavin. If you met him, you would want to hug him and squeeze his cheeks because he is hands-down one of the sweetest little boys on earth and has the voice of an angel. He's one of those kids who I'm hoping will forever infect Ben with his sweet, innocent boyishness. I love when they spend time together, and basically, camping was one big Ben & Gavin fest. I've never seen two boys so happy to be together, and so happy to be downright dirty.

Ben, being a scary jungle animal of sorts. And sweet Gavin- even when he's trying to be scary he's just exudes cuteness.

So remember how one of my big camping concerns was what the heck to do all day long (specifically, #6 on my top 10 list)? This was it! We sat and learned to play a new favorite game, Mexican Train. I don't even play dominoes in any form, but this was great. Then of course, there was some beer drinking.

Then we went on a big group hike, which was lovely....until Ben's legs got too tired to keep moving. Then it got tricky. Learned camping lesson #3 : 4 miles is about 2 miles too many for a 4 year old hiker who hasn't napped. But it was gorgeous, and I got in touch with my inner hiker. She's a tigress!

Ben was thrilled to find a real-life fuzzy caterpillar:

Ella was thrilled to learn that Auntie Liz was willing to carry her a heck of a lot more than Mommy was willing. So they had some quality girl time so that Mommy could continue in Operation Laziness, and drink her beer in peace.

More friendly camping nothingness. Camping learned lesson #4: doing nothing and sitting outside is wonderful.

Here we are on our 2nd (and final) night, preparing a feast fit for a king. You might think I'm joking, but just wait for it...

Well hello perfectly marbled, gorgeous salmon! You're so cute with your pretty lemon slices-- but wait! What's this I see? Are you stuffed on the inside?!

Why yes, you are! What on earth did I do to deserve this royal treatment???? Guys, it was like manna pouring down from the heavens. Being the sushi junkie that I am, I had to stop my hand from picking it up and just eating it raw. Can you blame me?

And all I had to do was provide a black bean salad! (Don't get me wrong- the black bean salad was rad....anytime a recipe includes onion, mango & cilantro on the ingredient list, you KNOW it's going to be scrumptious. I don't even think this is a matter of opinion- it just is). The salmon (a.k.a. manna) was provided and prepared courtesy of our new friends, Rikki & Jack. (Hi Rikki & Jack! Want to go camping again?) Here is where I will mention that Jack is a real life chef...how could I NOT fall in love with camping??? Camping learned lesson #5 : Always go camping with a chef. Here they are, our Salmon Sugar-Parents:

Here's the full spread. Not too shabby for a camping trip, eh? If I was to caption this picture, it would say: Melon salad, veggies and bread, beautiful manna-salmon, three bean salad. AND WINE. Yes, as I recall, the wine was deeeeelightful. We even set up a separate table designated as "The Bar".

This is the part of the evening when our bellies were full of salmon and wine, so we just smiled and took a bunch of photos. Here: the Findricks & Stublers

Me, Christina & Rikki. Don't you dare look at my camping greasiness!

Dewigs (minus Ben- where did Ben go? Oh right- to Gavin-land) + Findricks:

The night ended as any quintessential camping trip night should: with s'mores (Ben's 1st, my 1,001st))....

...And with glow stick swords! (Thanks for this picture, Kasia!)

Overall, what do I think about camping? Let me put it this way: my birthday is coming up in a month, and I'm thinking a camping trip might be in order.I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful relationship...

Fabulous Fries & Perfect Plum Crisp

2010-07-14T20:43:00.000-07:00

Image by bro0ke via Flickr

Who loves french fries and fruit crisps in the Summer? Or...any season of the year?
If you could see me, you'd see me raising both of my arms wildly in the air. Because in my little world, I can't really think of anything better than a juicy bbq'd burger, homemade oven fries, a gorgeous green salad, and a plum oatmeal crisp for dessert.

In fact, that's what just went down in this house. Not too shabby for a Wednesday, eh? (BTW, in case you were curious, Canadians really do end most sentences with "eh?". I'm no expert on the Canadian culture, but I have been there four times- count it- 1,2,3,4- and with each visit I heard at least 5 people use the cute little "eh?" at the end of their sentence. All I'm saying is, why haven't we considered stealing that, and how did they become the nicest people on the planet?). Also, you should probably know that my burger was smothered in spicy roasted green chiles, in honor of our recent trip to Albuquerque, the mecca for all things green chile!

Anyway, I was flipping through my July issue of Food & Wine magazine (which I adore but never have time to read), and I came upon this fantastic recipe for homemade oven fries, which then quickly inspired my whole bbq burger meal into being. And since I haven't posted any recipes in practically FOREVA (who's been wondering: what's up with that? I thought there was supposed to be some passionate food talk on this here blog!) and since I could never deny you anything this delicious, let me go ahead and share them both with you. Mama loves you.

Fabulous Oven Fries w/ Herbs & Pecorino
(adapted from Grace Parisi, via Food & Wine Magazine, July 2010)

2 large baking potatoes, cut into 4-by-1/2 in. sticks
1/4 c. extra-virgin olive oil
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 tsp. each of minced sage & rosemary OR if you don't have these dried herbs on hand (like me) then you can get in the French spirit and substitute 1 tsp. of Herbes de Provence
1/4 c. freshly grated pecorino romano or parmesan cheese
Salt & freshly ground pepper to taste

1. Preheat oven to 425. In a large bowl, toss the potato sticks with the olive oil until evenly coated. Spread the potato sticks in a rimmed baking sheet in a single layer and bake in upper third of the oven, turning once or twice with a spatula, until they are gold and crispy, about 30 minutes.
2. Sprinkle the minced garlic and herbs over the fries and toss well. Amazing smells are about to come wafting from your oven! Roast for about 5 minutes longer, or until the herbs are fragrant and the garlic is lightly browned. Transfer the fries to a large bowl and toss with the grated cheese. Season with salt & pepper and serve. Serves 4. (or in our case, serves two really hungry adults & 1 child).

Plum Oatmeal Crisp
(adapted from Everyday Food Magazine)

1/2 c. plus 1 T. all-purpose flour
1 c. plus 2 T. packed brown sugar
2/3 c. old-fashioned rolled oats (not quick cooking)
1/4 c. toasted pecans, chopped
1/4 teaspoon salt
Dash or two of pumpkin pie spice (optional, but recommended!)
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted
2-1/2 lbs. ripe plums, cut into 1-inch pieces (so, obviously, you can substitute or combine any of your favorite pitted fruits; for example, I did a plum/peach combo and it was heavenly. Apricots would be equally delicious!)

Directions:
1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Topping: In a medium bowl, stir together 1/2 c. flour, 1 c. brown sugar, oats, toasted pecans and salt. Pour melted butter over mixture and stir to combine & moisten the other ingredients. This is when things start to get very tasty.
2. In a shallow 2-qt. baking dish, toss plums with remaining 2 T. of brown sugar, 1 T. flour, and couple dashes of pumpkin pie spice, if using. Sprinkle with oat/pecan/butter yumminess crumble topping. Place dish on a rimmed baking sheet (perhaps overly-cautious, but an effort to prevent overflow burn, because no one wants that). Bake until topping is golden brown, 40-45 minutes. Let cool 20 minutes before serving, but I'll bet you can't wait that long to taste it because the smell wafting through your kitchen will put you in a love-sick trance. Serves 6. Enjoy!

I'm a Quilter!

2010-07-13T19:57:00.000-07:00

I realize there are more pressing matters that deserve my undivided blogging attention (namely that camping trip that I SWEAR I really did take, as well as that 2,000 mile road trip to New Mexico we just recovered from), but I felt it necessary to announce something that is rare, and therefore something I am quite proud of: I finished a project! A quilting project! I can quilt! I'm a quilter!

Please feel free to now douse me with gold stars and smiley face stickers, because one thing that is NOT a strength of mine is the ability to finish something once I start it. Just ask my husband (or parents or friends...), I'm sure he has a hidden notepad somewhere entirely devoted to keeping record of the projects/ideas/rooms to be painted that I never actually completed. I probably make the highly organized, "type A" sorts of people break out in nervous, aggravation-induced hives while in my company. It's my gift.

But I digress.

Remember when I first began this adventure, just about 6 months ago? Well, I learned many things back then. Namely, quilting is a very difficult task in and of itself. Like, you have no idea. Unless of course you've quilted, then of course you have a VERY good idea. But if you are like I once was, a girl with a romanticized vision of what quilting would entail, let me do you a favor now, and rain on your flowery creative quilting parade. Quilting is approximately 1,000 times more involved than I thought. Even when I was 7/8 of the way finished with the project, I STILL had no idea how much more time I'd be forced to invest. But throw in a toddler and a preschooler who want to be VERY involved in their Mom's quilting process, and then the whole thing becomes more difficult than trying to understand a single word that comes out of Ozzy Osbourne's mouth.

Does it sound like I'm complaining? Because I'm not, really I'm not. Yes, it was a ton of work, but the second part of this is, OH MY HEAVENS! How I loved the process, and even more, how I loved the final moment of completion! Remember: completion is not something I often do, so perhaps the giddiness is on a grander scale than your "average" quilter. Either way, all I know is, if you are ever lucky enough to receive a homemade quilt from someone who loves you, please fall on your knees and thank them profusely (especially if it's from me), because that person loves you enough to endure hours upon hours upon hours of thread/sewing/bobbin/binding/batting/stitching in the ditch madness.

So. Allow myself to introduce you to my quilt. Go on, be friendly and say hello:

Did you want to get up close & personal with her? Do it. I don't mind. In fact, I insist.

My darling mother-in-law (a.k.a. The Quilting Queen) kept talking about how important quilt binding is, and how it can really frame your quilt and make it *pop*. I'm so glad I listened to her! Isn't the binding the cutest? And did you take notice of my decently sewn corners? NOT EASY TO DO, MY FRIENDS!

This picture is for those of you who want to see more of the binding. Bless you. Also, I found "stitching in the ditch" to be nearly impossible and almost cause for a stronger eyeglass prescription, so instead I stitched near the ditch. Good enough. As my mother-in-law says, if a person riding by on a horse can't see it (the "flaw"), then don't worry about it! She always knew what to say to keep me going!

At first I really wanted to give this away to someone, but then I realized this quilt is like a piece of history for me. My very first quilt- sort of like my first lost tooth, or my first cut tendril of hair, or my first pedicure. I love that this summer has been full of so many "firsts" in my world. At 31.5 years old, I didn't know I could have many more firsts.

So no, this quilt won't be going anywhere except on the couch with my loved ones & I. Even Ben seems to appreciate it, and rolled around on it for almost 15 minutes tonight while singing an original song (though I think it was possibly inspired by Katy Perry) entitled, "Mommy Made A Quilt & I Like It". Awesome.

For Those Concerned If I'm Still Alive....

2010-07-03T22:32:00.000-07:00

(Shame on you if you are a faithful reader of my blog and you're NOT concerned if I'm alive, because if you didn't know any better, and from the looks of my blog, it appears I've fallen off of the face of the blogging planet). But for those of you who are in my closer circle, you know I braved my almost-worst fear (because snakes will always scare me more than anything) and took a major road trip from home to Albuquerque, New Mexico. Let's digest this for a moment, shall we? That's 1,000 miles. Each way. In a Honda CR-V (not that there's anything wrong with my darling Honda, it just would have been more "manageable" in a family swagger wagon). With two young children. In summer. Meaning, in triple digit degree weather. (Note to self: in the future, must write an entire blog post about my opposition for all things hot and desert-like). But I'm alive, and here to (eventually) tell the stories. (What's the deal with my over-usage of parenthesis, anyway?)

All I can say is: WHO is this mother who takes her children camping for the first time ever, and then a few weeks later takes them on a major road trip? When did I become the bravest gal around, seeking out adventure clearly outside of my comfort zone? My new favorite epiphany is this: once you've faced your fears head on (excluding, of course, the snake thing) it really does feel empowering and encouraging, because right about now I feel fairly confident that I can do just about anything!

In other news, if you've been waiting for an explanation as to why I promised a detailed account of the aforementioned camping trip, and then never delivered on that promise, please let me explain. I actually DID write one hell of a camping trip post, complete with very witty stories, tons of pictures complete with captivating captions (even beautiful food photos- yes, beautiful food is possible even while CAMPING). I was about 99% done with the post, putting on the final touches when suddenly I realized.........somehow along the way, my big fat elbow must have highlighted about 97% of the entire post and pressed the dreaded "delete" button. And thanks to Blogger's auto-save function, I lost everything, without even knowing it.

Let's just say, I burst into tears. And Dan held me. It was awful.

Guys, we're talking hours & hours & hours worth of work; brain cell power, time devoted to uploading the pictures, witty explanations vanished, probably never to return again (because you can't create that sort of magic twice, it's just not how it works).

And to be very honest, I've been so sick about it that I haven't had the courage to sit down and write it all over again. It makes me sick. But as I'm re-reading this over right now, I realize that I seem to have forgotten that just a few paragraphs ago that I claimed to have the confidence that "I can do anything".

Shoot.

Insert foot in mouth.

Okay, fine. I'm on it. Attempt #2 at camping trip recap shall commence very soon. Let me just finish my vacation first because I'm sort of too busy nursing a Haagen Dazs bar right now to be anything that resembles being productive.

A 10 Second Update

2010-06-13T14:23:00.000-07:00

We are back from the wilderness, and I am happy to report: I DIDN'T HATE IT! In fact, I mostly liked it! I am far too fatigued and sick of my own smell to give any more details than that, but there is a thorough description of our family camping adventure coming soon, and 1,000 photos to go with it. Raise your hand if you're excited to see photos of me greasy and dirty!! Anyone?

But for those who can't stand the suspense, I'll leave you with the vitals: number of snakes seen or bitten by: 0. Number of salamanders seen: 1. Number of mosquito bites: 1. Number of times my precious friend Liz tried to punch a raccoon through our tent: 1. Overall number of bottles of wine consumed: tons.

Hi-Ho!

2010-06-11T10:05:00.000-07:00

It's off to the wilderness we go! If you recall, one of my many camping fears was the unfortunate possibility of meeting up with a snake, and our lack of preparation for such a moment. Last night, Dan was unpacking all of his camping gear from the good ol' days of bachelorhood, and beaming with pride, he unveiled his trusty pocket camping knife. The sheer joy it brought to his face was classic- it was like two lovers being reunited after years apart. I decided it was time for a test- THE test: I asked him if we should cross paths with a snake, and if I should deem it necessary (which I would), could he kill a snake with the camping knife? Would he do it? Could he do it? I'm pretty sure he scoffed at me and replied, "Babe, are you kidding me? Of course. You don't need to worry about anything."

Congratulations, Husband! YOU PASSED THE TEST WITH FLYING COLORS! And now, back to my hourly camping mantra, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can....

Stay tuned; obviously, a full detailed report of Dewig's First Camping Trip will be given as soon as possible.

Take 5

2010-06-09T08:51:00.000-07:00

This week I am so grateful that, without even trying, my kids remind me to take a break from the stress of life, slow down, and enjoy something as simple as a popsicle. Lime and grape flavored. In my grown-up world of checklists and must do's, I almost missed this moment of innocent sibling silliness, and I'm just so grateful I forced myself to take a break from whatever "important" thing I was doing, and grabbed my camera. Also, it should be noted that this little photo shoot ended in a hilarious water fight with two naked kiddos.

T Minus 3 Days

2010-06-08T09:18:00.000-07:00

Image via Wikipedia

The family's first camping trip (EVER) begins in 3 days. Here's how I'm handling the nervous anticipation and tackling my camping fears: basically, I'm expecting to hate it.

I realize to some, this might sound like a terrible attitude problem that needs some adjustments, but in my mind, all I'm doing is placing zero expectations on the experience. That way, it can only exceed my presumptions and pleasantly surprise me if things should happen to go well. It's my own version of "expect the worst, hope for the best". So you see, it's not that I have a bad attitude; I just have a disappointment-proof outlook. And for the record, I've noticed that the more wine we plan on bringing, somehow the trip becomes even more disappointment-proof.

Alright, Big Basin Redwoods State Park, bring on your bugs and dirt and smokey hair campfires and meals from cans! Let's do this thing!

Christmas in June

2010-06-07T20:11:00.000-07:00

Last night, Ben was throwing a tantrum about- oh I don't know- EVERYTHING, and being the Mother of The Year that I am, I snapped, and not in the rhythmic carefree way. I was fatigued, tired, and out of patience and parenting steam. I wish they sold Parenting steam at Costco, or at least on ebay because I would buy it in bulk, build myself a parenting steam storage shed, and give it away to all my parent friends at Christmas. Maybe I'd even sell it on the black market.

Anyway, when World War III kicked in around the moment I announced it was time to brush teeth, I was 1) on the verge of throwing myself on the floor in a screaming tantrum to join him, and 2) struck with a genius idea. Note to self: ALWAYS wait for option #2 to come to you, even if it takes 10 minutes. DO NOT EVER go with option #1, experience has proven it will always end badly.

The genius idea? Santa! But of course! Santa is watching! SANTA IS ALWAYS WATCHING YOU! Ben, don't you remember the song we sing, where it specifically states he "knows if you've been bad or good, so be good for goodness' sake"? This is one of those moments. In fact, June is Santa's biggest sneak attack month. He knows that most of the children think Christmas is way too far off to really behave, but this is when it counts the most because he sneaks in and watches you even more closely. The month of June is like behavioral overtime in Santa's book.

I'm not saying it was my best progressive parenting moment, but that boy stopped his screaming, opened his mouth wide, and let me brush his teeth for a full 60 seconds, sweetly hopped into his bed and slept a solid 11 hours. So I played the Santa card in June, no big deal, right? Isn't that like 90% of the reason Santa even exists, to help ease the parenting load?

I have a very strong feeling Santa is going to be crucial to our survival this summer.

God-babies

2010-06-01T09:44:00.000-07:00

Dan & I have never been godparents before, and then much to our surprise (and sheer delight), we were asked to be godparents twice over in the span of one week! I cannot tell you the tremendous joy and deep honor this has brought both of us; I feel so blessed to spend my lifetime developing special relationships with these two sweet little angels. And I know I might be slightly biased, but I think even Cinderella's fairy godmother would have to agree that I have the world's cutest godchildren. I don't know if body nibbling was in the godmother job description, so sometimes I have to stop myself from nibbling their cheeks, thighs and toes. Can you blame me?

Also, did I mention that they're cousins, and about two months apart in age? I'm in heaven. And I'm in love. And when they spit up on me, it's so adorable that I don't even mind.

Cyberspace, please meet Baby Siobhan and Baby Mick:

(See? I wasn't joking. The cuteness factor is off the charts. And the thigh rolls of love??? To die for).

Only In Our Dreams

2010-05-26T20:37:00.001-07:00

A few months ago I started a bedtime tradition of sorts, where before Dan & I turn off our lamps & kiss goodnight, we mutually agree on a location where we will be meeting that evening...in our dreams. I close my eyes, create the scene, and begin my dream in a magical place, my husband by my side and wait to see where my mind takes me. It might sound silly, but it's the most peaceful way to fall asleep I've ever come across, and since I'm a gal with an over-active imagination anyway, I relish in the process of picturing us romping around Greece, or drinking wine in Venice or soaking in the sun in Maui. It's exciting, adventurous and even more economical than the "staycation" craze we've all heard about. One of these days, I really ought to get myself some business cards with the title:

Nicole Dewig
Professional Dreamer & World Traveler, Extraordinaire

Inspiring & impressive, yes?

However truthfully, the reality of our non-travels can occasionally make me slightly depressed. I mean, there is no Greece or Venice or Maui in our REAL near future, and I'm sure that on a teacher's salary, traveling will have to be put on hold for many more years. But you know what they say; the mind is such a powerful instrument, that when it's experiencing something, it doesn't know the difference between being there in reality and being there in a dream.

Which practically means I freely travel the world- without even flying.

The Prodigies

2010-05-25T14:27:00.000-07:00

With a bit more practice, some focused hard work and dedication, I think we'll have a new Donny & Marie Osmond on our hands. But I'll let you be the judge of that. Also, please note Ella's repeated squinting & forced smile at the camera, as she is preparing for what she thinks will be a bright flash for a still picture.What can I say? I take a lot of pictures of my kids.

Giddy

2010-05-22T09:51:00.000-07:00

The other evening we took a family trip to the toy store so that Ben could utilize the birthday gift card he received to pick out something fabulous. This was the first time we'd taken a family trip to the toy store, and the process was more than overwhelming for the newly crowned four year old. Heck, I was even dizzy and disoriented. Perhaps it's because of all the chemically-ridden plastic toy objects stacked and shoved together in one space. Or maybe it's the endless aisles of STUFF everywhere, with not one employee in sight to be of assistance. Anyway, once I stopped and listened to myself directing him in the store, I realized how ridiculous I sounded: "Ben, hurry up. Let's find something to buy with your birthday money. What do you want? Look around, let's make a decision!"

I mean, honestly. The poor child walked around aimlessly, eyes as big as Buick hubcaps, stuck in the hypnotic trance of flashing, sound-making plastic toys each calling his name. How do you make a decision when every toy on the planet is there at your fingertips? By a slow process of elimination, we somehow managed to narrow it down to three candidates, and ultimately a new Star Wars something-or-other thing won the grand prize and came home with us.

Dan & I both got a kick out of the drive home. There was practically silence in the car as Ella sat sucking her thumb, and Ben held and silently worshiped the newest member of his family. After studying Ben in the rear-view mirror for a moment, Dan commented, "Oh man, watching him I can totally remember as a kid getting a new toy, and on the ride home studying it, holding it, and the giddy anticipation of getting home so you can get it out of the box and play."

Me: "I know exactly what you mean, I did the very same thing as a kid, too. Except it wasn't ever toys that gave me a case of The Giddy's. It was shoes."

48 Months

2010-05-19T20:58:00.000-07:00

Dear Ben,

Last week you turned a whopping four years old. This might not sound old to some people, but when you think of it in terms of months, 48 months seems like an eternity that we've somehow managed to keep you alive, safe, healthy, and mostly happy. That's also a lot of months that we've stumbled around, experimented with our rookie parenting skills (flashback age 14 months: "we should definitely be giving him whole milk for calcium," and then, at 15 months: "whoopsies, whole milk makes him constipated. We should definitely NOT give him whole milk anymore", etc.), and because you don't know any different, you just go along with it. I'm sorry that in an effort to perfect our parenting, you've been subject to our methods of trial and error.

As I think over the last year that we've spent with you I'm forced to admit that it hasn't been the easiest year. Your third year on earth kicked our butts and was by far more difficult than two. Although in your defense, perhaps you think that me being 31 was far more difficult than 30. I think we both got smarter, and both seem to have a will of iron, and when we butt heads, things can get a little tense around here. Whoever coined the phrase, "terrible twos" obviously never met you, because being three meant you having so much more vocabulary and so many SPECIFIC IDEAS about the way things should be. I feel like I've just barely recovered from your birth, let alone the last 12 months of the three year old woes.

And yet, here we are. 48 months later.

Since I've always been terrible at the whole baby book entry thing, and since my memory consistently fails me, initially I wanted this blog to keep record of your hilarious everyday-isms. I wanted a place I could record & preserve memories and have something to look back on that would always simultaneously make me smile and cry. Because you do that to me, did you know? I can be so fed up and angry with you one minute, and then the next I'm practically in tears when you surprise me by cleaning your room or picking me flowers from the yard. There's so much to say about this last year, all the ways you've changed, so I thought I'd highlight some of my thoughts about YOU:

You are incredibly passionate about...well, everything. I'm serious. Sometimes you are pretty much ruled by "the passions" (as I affectionately refer to them). I've honestly never seen a young child love so deeply, hurt so deeply, fear so deeply, rejoice so deeply. This makes for one intense little person, and though it comes with its TREMENDOUS challenges, I can honestly say that I cannot wait to see what you are going to do with your life, what you will choose to be when you grow up. You are going to be amazing, my little man. You are literally capable of anything.

You love girls, especially brunettes. I thought this was something I didn't have to worry about for another 10 years or so, but there you go! Keeping me on my toes again! The object of your affection changes on a daily basis, but you do have a few favorites. I'm not really prepared to handle this yet, so usually I just downplay it an say things like, "Yes, Ben. She seems like she's a really special person who has a really kind heart." You adore your babysitter and since she's a student at the highschool where Daddy teaches, sometimes you just pull out the yearbook and find pictures of her and stare....for a long time. When you see a pretty girl, you will do anything within your power to get her attention. You already ignore me calling your name if there's a pretty girl in the room. I have a feeling this is not going away anytime soon, so I realize your dad & I should probably come up with a better strategy. But for now, I'm encouraging you to get some more guy friends. Trust me, girls are nothing but trouble.
You absolutely love music of all kinds. From sitting for hours at the piano playing and singing your little heart out to rocking out in the living room mimicking John Mayer to impersonating your daddy conducting a choir, a good chunk of your day is devoted to music. This makes us giddy with delight.
You recently fell in love with Star Wars. I'm sure this was inevitable, and although you've actually never SEEN one of the movies, you are a pro with the Light Saber. Your moves are quite impressive, really.

You sort of stole one of Ella's baby dolls that she received after she was born and we haven't really had the heart to tell you who the rightful owner is. I don't know what it is about this little cloth squishy doll, but you love her and take care of her on a daily basis and sleep with her every night and feed her and put her down for naps and shush me when I'm being too loud for fear of waking the baby. Also, it should be noted that you named this baby girl all by yourself: Harry.
You suffer terribly from eczema (that would be my genes, sorry about that). I'm so sorry, buddy. We're trying to do everything we can do make it more manageable, but your skin is splotched with itchy red patches and it just tears me up seeing you scratching or seeing the aftermath of blood on your sheets from you scratching in your sleep. It also breaks my heart when I hear you tell your peers things like, "That? Oh that's just my eczema. It's just dry skin. Mommy has to put hydro-cortisone ointment on it to make it better."
Christmas this last year was incredible. You really got it this year, and it made the holiday 1,000 times more exciting for Daddy & I. The magic of the season had you completely mystified and seeing the wonder in your eyes is something I'll never forget. For the first time, you actually willingly sat on Santa's lap AND held sissy's hand when she panicked. Seeing that big brother gesture of comforting Ella melted our hearts and made me realize that was probably one of many more instances to come where you would be there for your baby sister when she needed you.

In the fall, you'll be going to preschool two mornings a week for the very first time! If there's one thing I learned about your year as a three year old, it was KEEP THAT BOY BUSY! I'm hoping this is a wonderful change for both of us. I can't wait to see you thrive in that environment- you've practically begged for it, my little socialite. Once again, stay away from those girls. I mean it.
Every now and then when I walk out of my room your big blue eyes light up and you say something like, "OH MOMMY! You look SO FANCY! You're pretty, Mommy!" I never know exactly what prompts that statement, but you have no idea how much it means to me. A compliment is a compliment, even from a three year old. Keep it up.

Mama loves you, and I am praying this year is full of tremendous growth, learning, curiosity, empowerment, laughter, and a whole heck of a lot of love. You will always be extra special to me because you are my first born; you made me a mommy! Let's make four really great okay? And be patient with mommy, it's really hard to be a parent.

We are trying so hard to do our best, but as I've said a million times: Parenting: it's the best thing I've ever done. But it's the hardest.

My sweet boy, as hard as its been, you are the best thing I've ever done.

xoxoxo

Mother's Day

2010-05-09T10:13:00.000-07:00

It's Mother's Day, and I am enjoying some precious extra lounging time in my room, hanging out in my pj's while I can hear the sounds of Dan & Ben deep in breakfast preparations. It's so heartwarming to see them trying to make this day special for me, and because they know me so well, I'm assuming we'll be starting the morning off with coffee and pancakes. Or at least that's what I can gather from the sounds streaming from the kitchen. One of these days I'll post our favorite made-from-scratch pancake recipe, because if you had it in your recipe collection, you'd be wanting them at every possible chance, too. What could be better than warm, fluffy, light, buttermilk goodness with melted butter and strawberry spread on top? Oh my gosh, they need to hurry up with my pancakes. I've got a little puddle of drool collecting at the side of my mouth.

But this isn't entirely about pancakes today (though, admittedly, it's a highlight). It's about Mother's Day, about my own Mother, actually.

I was thinking about her this morning as I was laying there completely guilt-free and relaxed. Because she & I are so close, it's easy to brag and honor her on this special day for all that she does for me at this state in my life. Her care & help with my children is simply invaluable, and her input and wisdom in my life as a mother and friend is one of the greatest gifts I can think of. But the more challenging task, simply because of my faulty memory, is to think and remember what she was like when my siblings & I were very young- how did she do things, namely raise FOUR CHILDREN? What would she tell us? How did she handle all the moods and hormones and arguing and limit testing? What were her hopes for us when we were children? What was the most important message she wanted to give us?

And then a wonderful memory came back to me, and I promptly got the chills and realized that I already carry in my heart one of the important messages from her.

My mother was committed to making sure we knew, with absolute certainty, that we were loved. Unconditionally. No matter what we did or were capable of doing, she made sure we knew that she would always love us. I can remember driving with her, and from the back seat precariously trying to think of the most awful thing I could do that would surely be grounds for terminating a mother's love. What if I stole something? "I would still love you," she'd reply. She didn't even need to think about it. What if I punched my brother in the face? "I would still love you," she'd repeat. Hmmm. What if I KILLED SOMEONE? Surely a mother can't love a child if they've just committed murder! "Honey, I would be very, very, very disappointed in you. And I would be sad, and my heart would be broken. But I would still love you, just as much as before." What a tremendously wonderful gift; a child who is loved unconditionally really doesn't need much more, do they?

See, Mom? Some of it soaked in and stayed with me! Sometimes I was actually listening!

Mom, thank you for giving us such a healthy, grounded upbringing and for your commitment to showing us unconditional love. Thank you for instigating my love for pancakes. Thank you for being the reason I fell in love with cooking. Thank you for letting me take "mental health days" when I was in school. Thank you for making up "Jammy Parties" (and since I've passed this down to my children, I'm sure someday they'll thank you for it, too). Thank you for modeling a beautiful marriage. Thank you for being a master listener and nurturer. Thank you for for always being my "safe place". Thank you for being so connected to me both times I gave birth; for holding my hands (and legs) and feeling every contraction with me, giving me a strength I didn't know was possible. Thank you for always packing us healthy lunches. Thank you for wanting to protect us in an effort to preserve our innocence. Thank you for always finding me humorous; I love the sound of your laugh, so I will always try to draw it out of you.

My son has just informed me that my pancakes are ready, and I'm looking at him thinking two things: 1) this is music to my ears, and 2) I could not be the mother that I am to my son & daughter without the example and legacy you've left for me, Mom.

Thank you. I love you!

The "C" Word

2010-05-06T14:53:00.000-07:00

Image via Wikipedia

The C word for the day is Camping. Eww, gross, what were YOU thinking I meant?

Anyway. Let me go ahead and paint the picture, because that's what I do best.

When I first met my husband, I quickly learned that he was a Mountain Man. He sported flannel shirts & a goatee, could build his own fire from scratch, owned rock climbing shoes (is this how one refers to them?), owned outdoorsy backpacks and hiking gear, had a R.E.I. club membership, the whole nine yards. Which is kind of hot in a mysterious getting-to-know-you type of way. He grew up in the wilderness of Evergreen, Colorado, and though sometimes I'm guilty of embellishing, this time I'm really not using the term "wilderness" loosely. Like, there were elk and bears and deer and wolves and unicorns (okay maybe that part was embellished) roaming his property on any given day, and his darling soon-to-be 80 year old father has the photos to prove it (HI HUGH!). Not only did he live in the wilderness, but he somehow still found the need, nay, the DESIRE to be a camping man in his free time. Which meant he would leave his own backyard wilderness just to hike into the wilderness of his local mountain. Funny, right? This perplexes me, because don't people usually crave the green grass on the other side? And by green grass, I mean urban life? Wouldn't it make sense for him to "vacation" by way of hiking into the city of Denver and do the touristy thing? With zero wilderness or picturesque objects in sight?

No, not this man. I swear he and Bear Grylls come from the same blood lines.

Anyway, I clearly remember the day very early on in our relationship when he asked me the big question: had I ever been camping before? Mostly I remember it because he asked with the most optimistically hopeful eyes I'd ever seen, and I immediately panicked. Have I ever been camping? Um, yes? YES! Of course! Who hasn't been camping? I mean, EVERYONE has gone camping at some point or another, right???

Hee hee. Hee.

Not so much.

Except if you count making tents out of blankets and chairs in the living room with your siblings and then sleeping there for the night. Because that kind of camping I've TOTALLY done, like a thousand times.

But I was pretty sure he meant a different kind of camping. Shoot.

I remember trying to read into the question, desperately trying to see if for him, this was a deal-breaker or not. Because I really liked this guy. A whole lot. In fact, I knew we were going to get married and have babies and a hyperactive dog once he could stop being a commitment-phobe, but what if my entire future happiness was dependent upon this one teeny little thing? Who would've guessed that camping would be so crucial to my future?

So I told him yes. Because the truth is, I've been camping half a time. As in .5. Or if fractions are your thing, 1/2.

The memory is a bit hazy, but I recall my parents packing us up in the 1976 Buick station wagon (a car that I still rocked in high school, practically making me the coolest girl on campus), making the trip to some sort of foreign campsite where my parents fumbled with setting up a tent and we all tried to act like we knew what we were doing, but really we were grumpy and miserable and confused. I recall a hefty dose of familial tension. At the time, my sister was just a baby, and she crawled over us all night long while we tried to sleep. I had a large, pointy boulder underneath my sweet little head for a pillow. Around the bedtime hour, we quickly learned of some nearby drunken campers who got a bit out of hand, so our nighttime lullaby was the sweet tune of belligerent drunks receiving a police escort out of the campgrounds. In the midst of this chaos, one of their cars ran over their "boombox" music player and smashed it to pieces. It was painfully loud and I think I heard them utter more 4 letter words than I'd ever heard in my sheltered life.

So....I haven't exactly had a burning desire to do THAT again.

Which is why I must be CRAZY for agreeing to go camping in about a month! WITH MY KIDS IN TOW. Not only am I clueless about how to prepare/what to expect when camping, I am now dragging my poor innocent children along with me. (Full disclosure: it's only for a weekend, and we are going with other families, and some of these people are practically professional campers. So that helps a little, but then again they aren't the ones responsible for packing up our entire life and fitting it into our car.) My only safety net was the confidence I had in Dan with his camping history & knowledge. However, when I mentioned this to him, he scoffed and said, "Babe, I know how to camp like a single guy. But I have no idea how to camp with kids as a family."

Super.

But because I'm a gal who believes in conquering one's fears (except if the fear involves snakes), I've decided to face this dead on and make note of my camping fears. Let's approach this in list format, shall we?

"Reasons I Am Terrified To Go Camping, Let Alone Go Camping With Children":

What if the smell of campfire and spilled beer never washes off my body & skin (and sleeping bag!)?
What if the wine runs dry?
How many times can a person really eat hot dogs for a meal???
Snakes. All types.
My children thrive in their routine. Routine of their own beds and their own 4 walls. What if my kids never go to sleep and this trip turns into a 48 hour rave, family style?
What the heck are we supposed to DO all day? Sit? Talk? Drink? I don't understand.
B.O. and armpit hair stubble. There, I said it.
They say camping is an excellent way to test a relationship. WHAT IF WE DON'T PASS THE TEST?
Bugs.
Battling the elements. I don't care much for battles in general, let alone battles that involve the elements.

That's all I've got for now, but I'm sure as the time draws closer, I'll have dozens more. If you have the answers to my fears or my questions, please comment and help a sister out. Seriously, it just might be my only hope for surviving. That and the stockpile of wine we'll be carting around.

Premonition

2010-05-03T22:37:00.000-07:00

Image by Extra Ketchup via Flickr

Does anyone else have the sneaky suspicion that Google will soon have complete world domination? What? Just me?

Well people, just remember. You heard it here first.

And just so I have this in writing for future reference and proof, let me add that I think if somehow the worlds of Google and Apple collided (Gapple? Apoogle?), they'd probably have supremacy to lasso the moon AND Mars. Just you watch; I'm rarely wrong about this stuff. (example, I called the unfortunate divorce of Tom Cruise & Nicole Kidman YEARS before it happened. And Jon & Kate Plus 8? Please! I predicted a train wreck the moment I laid eyes on that haircut.)

P.S. Dear Google: if you're looking for a hard-working part time employee who can work from the comfort of her home, preferably in the comfort of her pj's, then I'm your gal. Especially if a company iPhone and data plan are included in the benefits package. Have your people call my people and we'll negotiate. But of course, I understand if you're too busy brainstorming ways to merge with Apple and therefore unable to contact me in the immediate future.

An Honorable Defense (almost)

2010-04-16T16:15:00.000-07:00

Have I mentioned before that Ben isn't a huge fan of change? And by change, I mean Dan returning to work after having been home for a week on Spring Break. I learned this is enough change to tip his scales and send him into an unfortunate phase that is pure defiance mixed in with a healthy dose of destruction (namely breaking a pencil into 1,000 pieces, and then putting those pieces down the heater vent in Ella's room....)

And I am oh so done with it. My patience went extinct days ago. In fact, I must have said under my breath half a dozen times, "when did my sweet baby boy turn into an almost 4 year old little punk?"

Of course Mommy still loves you, Little Bug.
And you're not really a punk you're just behaving like one. They're completely different, I promise.

But. Since we've already broached the subject, Benjamin Daniel....

I've got some questions. Must you really destroy everything you get your hands on? Must you take that evil tone with me EVERY time you address me? Must you cause such rascality in the morning hours that I'm already frazzled before showering? On those particular mornings, I'm riddled with apprehension, just anticipating the unfolding of The Drama you've gotten so good at creating. Because at least when we're at home, we can have our World War III battles in private, but when we're in public, I feel like I have to censor every word that comes out of my mouth for fear of suspicious nearby eavesdroppers who might take my words grossly out of context. And then when all else fails, I try to scoop you up in my arms and ever so gently secure you in your car seat, turn on some happy tunes (ABBA usually does the trick), and wait for the grumpy storm to pass. Sometimes this means listening to ABBA far longer than any person should in one day.

So I suppose it's safe to say we've hit a bit of a rough patch, Ben & I. And while 99% of it is difficult and exhausting there is that one tee tiny 1% that keeps me from having a complete mental breakdown: his 1-2 line rebuttals. They are borderline genius and totally random so I thought I'd highlight some of my favorites that were thrown at me this week (and no, I don't make this stuff up):

Me: Ben, why are you behaving this way?
Ben: Mama, little boys just don't know what they're doing. We don't know, Mama. So, you can't get mad at little boys, okay?
*******************
Me: Ben, we're not watching any TV right now. Please stop asking me.
Ben: But Mama, I'm just feeling a little bit SHOWY. Do you know what that means? Showy just means that I need to watch a show. So, let's just put on a show, and then I won't feel showy, okay Mama?
*******************
Me: You need to stay right here next to me when we're in the parking lot.
Ben: But I need to watch those girls!
Me: Why?
Ben: Because they're so pretty!
*******************
Ben: Mom, did you know that I'm the Director of this house?

*******************

Sweet child of mine, you need to hurry up and end this little phase. It's unbecoming. Furthermore, it's almost your 4th birthday, and I really want to have wonderful, heart-warming things to say when that day draws near. But right now, if nothing else, I guess I can commend you for sprinkling your tantrums with a dash of slick wit. Clearly, you are the fruit of my loins.

Golden Gate Park

2010-04-10T20:32:00.000-07:00

This last week we've relished in every second of Dan's Spring Break. Downside to being a teacher: who can possibly survive on that income? I mean, really! Upside to being a teacher: having a Spring Break in which we essentially got paid to have family playtime in SF! On Wednesday we made the long trip (and by long, I mean just shy of 90 minutes, but with two kids who are never in the car for more than 20 minutes at a time, it felt like an eternity) up to San Francisco's Golden Gate Park. All I can say is, why have we never visited before? And when can we move there? It was breathtaking and lush and colorful and full of culture and flowers and wide open space. We couldn't have asked for more perfect weather- deep blue skies, not a cloud to be seen, lots of sunshine with a slight cool breeze. It was postcard perfect. I felt so happy to share the experience with our kidlets, and someday I expect them to reflect back and thank us for the experience. Because here is the photo documentation to prove we tried to make it as memorable as possible:

A few minutes into road trip, singing along to a little Raffi:

Oh, look! ME! Since I am the chief photographer in our home, sometimes I have to take my own picture just to later prove to my children that I really did exist, and that I really was present for these big family events:

This awesomely tangled tree that we found within seconds of arriving at the park:

Per recommendation, we hit up one of the FOUR children's playgrounds first and let them get their wiggles out. It was a pretty big playground for us country mice, but apparently it's one of the smaller ones the park has to offer!

The Music Concourse, a gorgeous outdoor music amphitheater (I even let out a few la la la's):

Somewhere near the Japanese Tea Garden:

Entering the Botanical Garden (practically the Garden of Eden):

Duck pond with some sort of large bird:

I packed a big picnic, with enough food for a small army, and we pitched camp on the other side of this sweet duck pond. It was my favorite part of the entire day. We took our shoes off, the kids ran around the damp grass with their bare toes, and I soaked in a little sun. It was all perfect...until Ben slipped and fell in.

This is the marshy slippery mush that was responsible for......

this:

Life is good when you're the baby.

Stroll around the lake led us to this AMAZING poor man's view of beautiful Japanese Tea House gazebo. Someday I'm going to throw myself a tea party there.

This picture is classic because I thought I was just taking a candid photo of my son standing by the lake. But after I took the shot, I walked over only to discover his pants around his ankles, peeing in the tree. In public. In front of many strangers. Apparently, this is how we country mice roll.

The windmill and tulip garden!

The one & only Family shot we could get that day. It just wouldn't feel like a family photo without Ella staring off someplace else, and Ben in mid-revolt, giving his best semi-possessed scowl. Good times.

We heart you, San Francisco! We'll be back- you haven't seen the last of these country mice!

p.s. After that trip, I sort of found a tick in Ella's ear. It was awful and creepy, and Dan totally saved the day.

What is this "Alone Time" you speak of?

2010-04-05T19:34:00.000-07:00

Dan: Babe, do you ever just go into another room, sit down and do absolutely NOTHING else except listen to music? Like, really listen, away from everything?

Me: Um. Well. I'm a mom. So....NO.

Larabar-tastic!

2010-04-01T20:44:00.000-07:00

So, my new best friend "Lewis" from Larabar notified me that this blog post of mine somehow reached him in Larabar Land and he rewarded me by making me their "Fan of the Day"! THANKS, LEWIS! You can find me here on their blog site! I'm not even sure what it means but of course I'm thrilled and will be expecting flowers on my birthday and a christmas card from them from now on. At the very least, we'll probably get B.F.F. necklaces (remember those?). But seriously, it was a fun little surprise for this stay-at-home-Mama, and I'll admit....so far the highlight of my week. If my dreams do come true and they do end up sending me some bars, I promise you will all be the first to know. (Lewis, a.k.a. new Best Friend Forever, if you are reading this, keep in mind my deep love for coconut. However, also keep in mind I've yet to try any of the Jocalat varieties. But I trust your judgement implicitly).

Isn't the internet a crazy-wonderful thing?!

Modern Family

2010-04-01T19:44:00.000-07:00

As Dan & I were cuddled up on the couch this afternoon, unwinding and clinging to the last few minutes we had before the next wave of late afternoon commotion began, Ben declared:

"Okay, here's the game: Mama, you're the babysitter. And Daddy, you are her grandson. I will be the garbage man, and Ella is a hunter-girl. Okay? OKAY EVERYONE?"

Sometimes I can hardly wait to see what this kid is going to be when he grows up. Or, even better, who he'll marry. His future wife better excel at 1) listening and 2) being bossed around.

I love you, little Bug.

35 Down, 5 To Go

2010-03-29T19:56:00.000-07:00

In less than one week, Lent will come to a (much-anticipated close), which, among other things, roughly translates into: if I'm so inclined, my sugar/alcohol intake may officially resume again. Cause for celebration, right?

But if I'm being honest, I must admit I'm a bit shocked at how easily I've adjusted to such a major dietary change in such a short time span. The human body is fascinating, with its ability to adapt, adjust, start fresh, and keep going. I was reflecting back on what the last 30+ days have been like, and I was struck by what a positive experience this sugar/alcohol fast has actually been. I can't even believe I'm admitting this to the public blogging world, but it really hasn't been that awful. Don't get me wrong, of course I had some moments of panic, doubt, grumpiness & weakness, and I'm sure every member of my family would willingly attest to that. But overall, I think I've handled this okay. And truth be told, I've sort of learned how to function without all that sugar. On the couple of rare occasions I've allowed myself to have sweets (just a bite, for taste), it was somewhat disappointing because it was large jolts of OVER THE TOP sweetness. Sickening sweet. Like, Fruit Loops sweet. Hostess Cupcakes sweet. All this time, I've been giving my taste buds the equivalence of a cardiac arrest because I simply didn't think I could go without. Shame on me! I've got more strength and will-power than I've ever given myself credit for. I mean, good gracious, if I somehow found the strength to push out two babies, I can certainly find the strength to JUST SAY NO to cake/ice cream/cookies/chocolate/pastries!

Alcohol, however, is a totally different beast. NOTHING ELSE can give me that relaxing wind-down feeling like a glass of wine.
Nothing.
I mean, why else do you think Jesus drank wine at weddings? Jesus is the smartest.

Now, what's a little sacrifice without a little reflection? So here is the Reflection Section of my blog, where I thought it appropriate to share some things I've learned through this experience. First, let me introduce you to 3 of my new best friends:

Sparkling water has changed my life. Something about those little bubbles make me feel like I've just kicked the "fancy" level up a notch. If I may quote Emeril Lagasse, BAM! Regular water becomes fancy water! And when it's infused with the essence of lime or orange, it's extra delightful. DOUBLE BAM! Drinking it out of a wine glass has almost brainwashed me into thinking I've got something pretty snazzy in my glass. Extra hidden bonus: the carbonation from the sparkling water usually makes my tummy feel full, so when I drink it throughout the day, I tend to feel less hungry/snacky. Awesome! I will definitely continue this trend. (Disclaimer: if the water has become flat and lost its fizz, I refuse to drink it. Who wants sparkling water without the sparkle? Pointless)
Popcorn saved me in my darkest I-want-sugar-now moments. A while ago, we stopped buying those super convenient microwave bags of popcorn and opted for the big giant tub of kernels you can get at Costco (so much cheaper, so much healthier and SO MUCH TASTIER!) At night when I would crave a sweet treat, I would often make a small batch of popcorn on the stove, and season it with salt & garlic powder (and on rare occasions when I must have been PMSing, cayenne powder was thrown into the mix). I got to a point where I wasn't even adding a smidgen of butter! This is huge, as I am a passionate lover of salted butter (just ask Alicia). But once I went without, I realized I just didn't need it. And--stop the press-- the popcorn still tasted fantastic.
LARABARS! Do y'all know about these? You can read all about 'em here, but in short, they are GLUTEN FREE * DAIRY FREE * SOY FREE * NON-GMO * VEGAN * KOSHER delicious, tasty bars. Coconut cream pie is hands-down my favorite, and I will drive across the county just to stock up. So, if anyone out there from Larabar-land is reading this, SEND ME FREE BARS! Please! I'll eat them and blog about them and come up with new flavor ideas and sing your praises until the end of time! This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

So as it stands, the plan is to continue with a sugar-free/"light" alcohol diet during the week, with sweets/plural glasses of wine allowed on the weekend. All within reasonable moderation, obviously.

Except, of course, when Summertime heat arrives and homemade ice cream season begins. All bets are off then, and rules of moderation will no longer apply. Obviously.

Spring Has Sprung

2010-03-21T09:59:00.000-07:00

One of the best things about living where we do are the consistently mild seasons. Winter throws some chilly morning curve balls and lots of rain our way, and the sky will inevitably lose its crisp blue and make way for some boring gray days, but other than that, the major difference between all four seasons is all of about 20 degrees. I mean, my kids don't even own heavy winter jackets. Here, we believe in the power of LAYERS, and for the majority of winter, a hooded sweatshirt does the job quite nicely. And socks. We are eventually forced to leave the flip-flops at home and start wearing those bizarre sock-things (my low-point of the year). Even our weekly Farmer's Market keeps going strong throughout the entire year, "braving" our mild winter. Sure, the tomatoes will eventually disappear altogether for a period of time, but my favorite lettuce farmer is faithfully there every single week. I never has a reason NOT to have a gorgeous green salad on the dinner table.

So, sometimes it can be difficult to feel like you're really experiencing 4 whole seasons when you live in these parts. But what I somehow forgot was that Spring also has a SMELL that accompanies it, and over the last few days, that smell has made a comeback and permeated the noses of every member of my family. It's that sweet, clean-air smell, mixed in with the scent of freshly cut grass. It's beyond delicious, and we've spent more time outside in the last few days soaking it in than we have in the last few months. (Side note: I also now know we've hit Spring because my allergies are going bananas, and I've got a kleenex permanently attached to my nose and my allergy eye drops bottle is close to empty.) Why, HELLO SPRING!

But for this housewife, perhaps the most exciting event Spring has brought with it thus far is the return of the clothesline! I am back to drying our clothes outside in the warm sun with that aforementioned sweet Spring smell permeating every fiber of every clothing item we own. It is heavenly, and my inner Hippie is thrilled. Sometimes I even kick off my flip-flops and hang up the clothes barefoot. Oh yeah, Spring makes us do CRAZY things!

When I was last utilizing our clothesline, all the way back in 2009, I always hung our laundry during Ella's morning nap time because she was way too little to set loose in our yard with most of my attention focused on hanging clothes instead of her well-being. Plus, a crawling baby in a big open yard space who puts EVERY THING SHE SEES in her mouth is a recipe for teary disaster.

But now! Look at my big 16.5 month old girl, loving every second of being outside, digging in the mud with her bare hands, enjoying the breeze and the shade of the hanging damp clothing!

It's very difficult to take a photo of a child who doesn't sit still for more than a second, but here she is in action, probably figuring out a way to take a mud bath without my knowledge, because apparently this is her new favorite past-time. Please take note of the incredibly delicious inner thigh rolls which I insist on pinching every 5 minutes. And the pig tails! We'll show that mullet who's boss!

See? In this next one, she's trying to sit down in the mud in secret. This is how she repays me for dressing her in darling, clean clothes. Or maybe she just really likes to see me doing copious amounts of laundry on a daily basis. Either way, we now have an entire sub-category in Ella's wardrobe, entitled: "Play-clothes That Mom Won't Won't Freak Out About If They Should Happen To Become Drenched In Mud".

Another advantage of using our clothesline is that Ben gets to brush up on his clothespin-finger game. Who knew that hours of entertainment would only cost $1? Ben could probably spend hours placing the clothespins on his fingers, while running around trying to scare us with his new awesomely long, creepy fingers. I'm not sure how this game might affect his finger blood circulation, but we figure the advantages far outweigh this one teensy disadvantage, so we're going with it.

Also, when the sun is shining so cheerfully and the air is smelling so sweet, how can you NOT take a picture near the backyard blossoming peach tree? Plus, these two are so in love these days, I have to make sure and document it as much as possible. That way, when Ella is 16 and livid with her father for not letting her date gross boys and in sheer frustration they both might utter words they don't mean, I can whip out this picture and remind them, "See? You love each other! Now hug it out!"

So I guess what this self-proclaimed "Fall/Winter Girl" is saying is that though I do love some cozy rainy days with a pot of soup simmering on the stove and a warm fire crackling in the fireplace, and orange is totally my new favorite color, I am thoroughly enjoying what Spring has brought us so far. Like....I LOVE IT. It feels wonderful to have fresh air in our lungs, in our home, and to drive with the with the car windows down. I'm even slightly excited about a major Spring Cleaning project we have coming up. And the thrill I get from buying a new pair of flip-flops never gets old. So maybe what I'll say from now on is that I'm a "Fall/Winter/Spring Girl". Or, "I'm Not Into Summer/Heat" for short.

When In Ireland....

2010-03-17T10:25:00.000-07:00

Image via Wikipedia

Even though I'm only slightly Irish (thanks to my full-blooded Italian father), and at home and NOT in Ireland today, I thought some homemade Irish Soda Bread would be an appropriate contribution to the St. Patty's Day feast we'll be attending as a family later this evening. After researching approximately 7,925 Irish Soda Bread recipes, I think I found and adapted a recipe and have, in my humble opinion, come pretty darn close to "LA ULTIMA" of all Irish Soda Breads. And yes, "la ultima" is an ancient Irish phrase, dating back to the days of yesteryear.

I've made Irish Soda Bread before, and was a bit disappointed by its dry scone-like rock-in-your-stomach texture (thanks for nothing, Barefoot Contessa) but this recipe yields a delightfully moist rustic looking loaf, and the crust---oh my heavens, the crust is AMAZING. I think it has something to do with the multiple buttermilk/melted butter basting's that are involved. Which brings me to my little baking secret: Basting with butter = buttery beautiful results.

Anyway, just make it. It took me all of 5 minutes of prep time, which is more than I can say for most recipes in my repertoire. I'm pretty sure Saint Patrick is singing its praises from heaven as I type this. Enjoy!

Easy Irish Soda Bread
Yield: 1 loaf
(liberally adapted from recipe by MP Welty via AllRecipes)

Ingredients

4 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 c. white sugar
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 tablespoon baking powder
3/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup butter, softened
1 c. raisins (or more if you really love raisins)
1 1/4 cup buttermilk
1 egg
For basting:
1/4 cup butter, melted
1/4 cup buttermilk

Directions

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Lightly grease a cast-iron skillet (alternatively, you can use a pizza stone, or if you have neither, a large lightly greased baking sheet will work too).
Put raisins in a small bowl and add the 1 1/4 c. buttermilk- allow the raisins to soak in buttermilk for about 15 minutes.
In a stand mixer with the paddle attachment, mix together flour, sugar, baking soda, baking powder, salt and butter. Stir in the egg and the buttermilk/raisin mixture. Switch to the "dough hook" attachment and allow the dough hook to knead the dough slightly. If necessary, sprinkle a little flour on top. Form dough into a large round and place in prepared cast iron skillet (or pizza stone or baking sheet). In a small bowl, combine melted butter with 1/4 cup buttermilk; brush loaf with this mixture. Use a sharp knife to cut an 'X' into the top of the loaf.
Bake in preheated oven for 50 to 60 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center of the loaf comes out clean. Brush the loaf with the butter mixture about every 15 minutes while it bakes. To sweeten the loaf, sprinkle with sugar after each basting. Enjoy!

She'll Be Comin' Round The Mountain

2010-03-12T14:13:00.000-08:00

We were greeted with cloudy dark skies and rain sprinkles this morning, and although I'm typically a huge fan of precipitation in general, I knew that what I needed today were some warm, sunshiney skies to lift my spirits and take us into this much-anticipated weekend. It's funny how the world of nature outside can often mimic life, isn't it?

And then I looked outside at our peach & nectarine trees and I was thrilled by what I saw. Our first blossom flower of the year! We've had dozens of buds just waiting to burst open for a few weeks now, but this pretty little flower beat all the others to the punch. I realized that this is a huge indicator that Spring is around the corner, indeed. Pretty soon the dark, cold, rainy days will be over and brighter, longer, warmer days will take its place. I wonder how long this tiny little blossom flower had to endure the winter's chill before it was ready to burst open in full bloom? Pretty brave for a little flower if you ask me.

In the meantime, we endure the remaining storms, and we sit & wait with hopeful anticipation for the refreshing start of a new season. Thank God for new seasons, if not for any other reason other than clothes & fashion just don't get any cuter than Springtime, right?

A Bit of Advice

2010-03-10T20:17:00.000-08:00

Image by TW Collins via Flickr

When the week is unrelenting and exhausting, I think it's vital to find ways to cut corners and keep on truckin'. It's Wednesday, and my family is in a deep state of survival mode. We're doing our best to get to Friday all in one piece, and I can hear my mother's soothing voice playing over and over again, "just let the little things GO!" So, the laundry pile is 20 feet high, but my kids are safe and their tummies are full and there's been no blood shed.

I say, when life hands you buttermilk, make pancakes. And so tonight I looked in my fridge for dinner inspiration and decided upon a feast of fluffy multi-grain & flax-seed buttermilk pancakes and a swiss chard, mushroom & feta cheese scramble. Not too shabby for corner cutting, eh? I'm so grateful to have kids who think breakfast for dinner is a sign of a celebration rather than a sign of a frazzled and at-her-wits-end Mama.

Male Bonding

2010-03-09T20:40:00.000-08:00

Dan arrived home today looking weary-eyed and dejected after a particularly grueling day at work. It breaks my heart to see him suffer in any capacity, especially in the realm of work-related stress because Lord knows the man works harder than anyone I know, and adding any extraneous pressure to his already overflowing workload somehow feels unjust. But that's just me and my unbiased little opinion. And although these days or moments of job-related tensions are few and far between, I found myself in a mild state of panic, racking my brain on the words and actions I needed to contrive to bring my husband comfort and support. Though this may come as an alarming shock to some (bite your tongues), I tend to be the more...."emotionally-spirited" spouse in our marriage, where Dan is typically the calm, cool and collected rock that anchors us. I tend to scream and yell and cry and complain and excel at sharing EVERY EMOTION I HAVE. He's gotten really good at looking at me with raised eyebrows and telling me to relax. It's a marriage made in heaven.

So, the mild state of panic. But what could I say, really? What do you say to someone who is visibly in the moment, working something out in their head?

I helplessly listened, I tried to offer loving support and insight. I waited for him to decompress in a way that I would decompress: talking. Talking to close friends, talking to family, blogging (my silent form of talking). Talking, talking, talking. And then sleep. And probably a little shopping. And hopefully a no-water, soy chai latte. Grande.

But tonight, it was Ben's turn to became his rock, and he didn't even know it.

After dinner, the two of them practically sat in silence while playing with Ben's wooden blocks. They sat there next to each other, in complete unison, building, thinking, designing, and occasionally verbalizing their engineering strategies. There was some obvious bonding occurring, and the two of them were in a zone of testosterone that I could not enter, nor did I want to. That's when it struck me how different we are; in times like these, Dan craves the quiet solace of "the cave" and I run from it, screaming like a crazy person. While I find incredible consolation in talking "it" out, in this moment, I think Dan derived the exact equivalence within the comfort of his home, holding his boy in practical silence. Building castles and towers and buildings and helicopters.

Sufficed to say, I think Ben earned himself a sticker on his chart today, fair and square.

True Confessions

2010-03-04T20:35:00.000-08:00

Image by Back to the Cutting Board via Flickr

So, I just ate a slice of cheesecake.

Triple chocolate. You know, THE most sinful kind of cheesecake that can possibly be in existence. So not only did I break the no sugar cleanse, I broke it and kicked it and slapped it and spanked it and punched it and then killed it. And then just for fun, I rolled around in it.

I have but one defense. I'm a weakling, and when Chocolate speaks to me, I listen. I will do WHATEVER chocolate tells me to do. Tonight, it told me to eat him. And I'm not one to disobey.

Also, Ben really wanted some cheesecake, and what kind of mother would allow her 3 year old his OWN slice of cheesecake just moments before bedtime? Not me. So really, I shared a slice of cheesecake, out of sugar-overload protection for my son. I'm telling you, parenting is unyielding.

I'd like to say that I feel riddled with guilt, but my body is in complete sugar-buzz mode and loving every second. There's a small party going on in my belly right now. My bloodstream's like, "HELLOOOOO SUGAR! How's it going old friend? It's so great to see you! Where have you been? Can you stay awhile?" and I can hardly sit still while I type and I'm fairly certain I could endure a Lord of the Rings marathon if I had to. That is, until I sugar-crash and burn.

And because I'm having a moment of complete honesty here, I feel it necessary to report that triple chocolate = triple fun. It probably also = a triple roll on my thighs. TOTALLY WORTH IT!

Anyway, I'm pretty sure Lent will understand.

The Last Straw

2010-03-02T19:59:00.000-08:00

Sometimes when your almost 4 year old son turns into a sassy, defiant little "bundle of energy" that you hardly recognize anymore, you need to dig deep in your bag of tricks to bring him back on track before he slips away into a land of bratty defiance forevermore. In times like these, a Mom in such circumstances draws much inspiration from the likes of Mary Poppins and The Supernanny. In fact, I'm tempted to write an advertisement for a nanny, rip it to pieces and place it in my fireplace, and patiently wait for Mary Poppins to arrive on our doorstep. DESPERATE TIMES CALL FOR DESPERATE MEASURES.

Anyway, in my world, ~~bribery~~ positive motivation seems to work magical wonders, so I've created Ben a sticker chart. The components are quite simple, really. You just need some flimsy poster board (thanks, Target), some rainbow-bright markers, and an assortment of relevant stickers. And by relevant, I mean monster truck/Sesame Street/Clifford/football oriented. Fortunately, when you're 4, there is just nothing cooler than stickers.

Ladies & gentlemen, I present you with Exhibit A of Mommy's Desperate Attempt to Regain Control, Order and Peace in My Home:

It's "Ben's Good Behavior" Chart! Please take note of the many colors and somewhat straight boxes I had to make. I even had to whip out the ruler for this complex little creation:

The categories are few & simple, and earning stickers is fairly easy. I'm doing my best to set him up for success, and when he has earned a whole row of stickers, he has earned himself something extra special- a "special treat", if you will. In Ben's mind these are what qualify as special treats:

1) ice cream cone (he's a strawberry or vanilla guy. I'm doing my best to turn him on to Peanut butter & chocolate)
2) Spiderman t-shirt
3) A movie rental of his choice
4) going on a date with Mommy to Target

Obviously, I'm pushing for special treats #1 & #4. Because if we've been successful enough in our ~~bribery~~ positive motivation efforts, then by golly, Mommy deserves a special treat, too! Come on, sticker chart...Mama has big hopes for you.

Veteran parents: It gets easier, RIGHT? PLEASE? RIGHT?

My Recipe For Relaxation Following An Insanely Busy Week In Which Husband Worked 14 Hour Days And Now I Think I'm Going To Collapse

2010-02-26T20:57:00.000-08:00

Sometimes you just need to get all cozied up after a long hot shower (complete with leg shaving), throw on your favorite Christmas pj's (because it's always Christmas in my home) & fuzzy socks, listen to the rain pouring down outside and watch When Harry Met Sally for the 1,734th time. I will always love this movie, and I will never get tired of hearing, "Waiter, there is too much pepper on my paprikash. But I would be proud to partake of your pecan pie".

And the sugar/alcohol free lime-flavored sparkling water in a fancy wine glass is a delightful touch. Two thousand cheers for Friday!

Update

2010-02-23T20:30:00.000-08:00

Image via Wikipedia

Today is day seven of my no sugar/no alcohol Lenten commitment, and I am happy to report I am going strong. Full disclosure: I may have accidentally had a one inch bite of some leftover brownie but it felt like a rock in my belly and I immediately regretted it and swore off brownies forever. Aside from that, I've been hardcore. I was expecting detox tremors and the cold sweats, but in reality, I've just learned to function without it. For example, unsweetened applesauce is a lovely substitute for jam on my morning flax-seed toaster waffles. And who needs wine when there's water? They're practically the same thing, right? And I'm sure Dan will catch on soon, but I've learned that when he's drinking wine in the evening, if I cuddle up close and kiss him more often than usual, it's almost like I'm having a glass of wine, too. It's like getting a contact high, but with wine.

I have a feeling there will be an unprecedented number of kisses from here til Easter. See? WIN-WIN!

High-Low

2010-02-23T20:13:00.000-08:00

I am desperately trying, as Mama Hen of my little nest, to make dinner hour a more pleasant event in our home. Trying to have a peaceful dinner hour (and by hour, I mean 15 minutes) where intelligent and pleasant conversation is exchanged is just not a reality right now. I have already added this to my list of "Someday We'll Be Able To________(fill in the blank), But Right Now It's Just Not Going To Happen". Usually dinner is a mad dash to the finish where Dan & I hardly get a word in edgewise because Ben just so happens to be the chattiest boy I've ever come across, and Ella barks out obtrusive squawking noises from her highchair to communicate things like, "I love that" or "I hate that", or "gimme gimme" or "I'm going to throw this at you now". So we duck for cover, we eat, we listen to Ben and we try to give the illusion that we have control over our chaos.

Obviously, this is challenging. I miss the days of knowing what's actually happening in my husband's world. I miss hearing about his day at work, I miss hearing the funny stories (because as a highschool teacher, he's got a bunch). I miss the days of eating dinner sans indigestion. I miss sitting at the table once we're done eating just for the sake of sitting. For the sake of continuing conversation. Sure, I love what the kids bring to the table. I love their humor and their lighthearted little spirits, but I often wonder- is any of this sinking in? Is this special to them on any level? Do they recognize or appreciate the efforts that went into making this dinner possible? I've only ever heard and read about those families who sit in front of the TV while eating their dinner. But honestly, on some night's, that sounds downright heavenly.

So to help bring our individual worlds together, we implemented an somewhat-efficient way to communicate. When we remember, and when we're not too busy feeding our faces at the dinner table, we like to talk about our High & Low points of the day.

Today, my Low was finding my sunglasses and a piece of mail in the toilet, swimming together with whatever Ben left behind and forgot to flush away. Which made me realize two things: 1) There needs to be more strict enforcement of the "FLUSH EVERY TIME" rule in our house, and 2) I should just always leave my sunglasses in the car.

But then, because there is a God, there was a High. A moment I've anticipated for quite some time. Ben towed Ella on the back of his tricycle for almost 15 minutes this afternoon, and they both laughed and enjoyed it. This might not sound like anything special, but I assure you- once you've discovered mail and sunglasses in your toilet, anything remotely positive makes you feel on top of the world.

Some photo documentation of my High for your viewing pleasure (I'll spare you the photos of my Low. You're welcome):

Sacrifice

2010-02-20T15:03:00.000-08:00

Last Wednesday marked the beginning of Lent, a time when many people choose to "give something up"; to abstain from something or some habit or some vice in our lives, until Easter arrives. The hope is that rather than turn to these things or habits or vices, we turn to prayer, mediation, acts of kindness/charity instead, and embrace these small "sufferings" and await the inevitable transformations that become of it. Honestly, I've not always been a big fan of the "giving something up"- I don't usually feel convicted one way or another, and I feel like a decision to truly sacrifice something ought to be done with strong conviction and should be heartfelt and meaningful. Truthfully, I wanted to avoid committing a personal "Lenten tokenism".

As a kid growing up, we were forced EVERY YEAR to give up TV watching. Which was okay for the most part, except that wouldn't you know it- EVERY YEAR the Oscars would happen during Lent season, and I'm pretty sure I was the only girl in the whole world who didn't get to see the glamor unfold on the red carpet, or see acceptance speeches, or swoon over live footage of Tom Cruise and Kevin Costner in tuxedos. I might still be carrying around a little bitterness over it. I promise never to do this to my children unless they're in a phase of severe misbehavior and I need a decent bribe to get me through til Christmas time.

And then I got the bright idea (and conviction! and excitement! and passion!) to give up my two favorite past-times: eating sweets and drinking wine. That's right. I am now on a heavily restricted no-sugar diet (because I still eat fruit and I sometimes use a little honey to sweeten my sad, plain yogurt) and a complete lock-down no-alcohol diet (because I'm crazy). I was really excited about this because it's a win-win no matter how you look at it. Anything I can do to supplement the hard work I've been doing in the gym over the last 3 months is only going to encourage me further, and I've given something up that has truly been a sacrifice. I wanted to choose something meaningful, and by golly- sugar & alcohol have always held a special place in my heart. It's made me aware of all the other things I can be doing with my time, my body, my mind in lieu of ingesting sugar or alcohol. It's also made me aware of how much I adore unwinding with a glass (or two) of wine.

I won't lie, it's been...difficult.

Day 1, I had one of the worst headaches of my life. I'd like to think it was an unrelated headache, because it's not like I eat doughnuts and drink shots of vodka from sunrise to sunset or anything. How the heck could I be "withdrawing" so quickly? Was this a head game (pun intended)? The headache lingered all day long, tempting me to just call the whole thing off, throw in the towel, run down to the closest 7-11 and buy myself some M&M's and a bottle of sauvignon blanc. But I'm actually quite fond of this challenge because I know that I can do it. When I think of how many more instances I'm going to have a craving for one or both things, and how many instances I'm going to have to resist the temptation and find something else to do, I cringe. But when I look at it one day, one hour at a time, I feel strengthened and even more passionate about this commitment.

43 days to go. If I don't blog for a few days, it means I cracked under pressure, gave up on the commitment and I'm too ashamed to say so.

Pop Culture, 101

2010-02-18T14:33:00.000-08:00

Ever since Ella started walking, her relationship with Ben has been taken to a whole new level. I've waited for this stage for 15 months, and I knew with her sassy little 'tude, she'd be able to stand up to his almost-four-year-old zaniness. No longer is she the delicate baby who can't do much but fuss and potentially get in the way of his boyish playtime. In his eyes, now she is fair game, and he isn't interested in wasting any more time. By golly, there are months' worth of games he needs to educate her about! He's tried teaching her about the game of Tag which, so far, seems to be their most successful game. In our house, a game is successful if the quantity of laughs outnumber the quantity of tears. Yesterday they both willingly participated in a somewhat organized match of wrestling. Half the time I couldn't even see them but about every 5 seconds yelled out "BE GENTLE WITH HER!" for good measure. I like to refer to this method as "Halfway Parenting". In a pinch, it works wonders.

And then today a new game was born. I think this game is called Intro to Pop Culture, and it has me deeply afraid. As I was cleaning up breakfast this morning, Ben & Ella were playing together quietly in the living room. And I overheard a very frustrated Ben say this to my sweet & innocent baby girl:

"NO, SISSY! (his affectionate nickname for Ella) You can't walk away from me because I'm being Super Man, and you have to be Lady Gaga! Okay? OKAAAAAAY, SISSY? BE LADY GAGA! Mama, sissy's not being Lady Gaga!"

Ella, sweetheart, Mommy is begging you: please don't be Lady Gaga.

How or when or where he heard of Lady Gaga, I'm not really sure. I tried to inquire about how he knew her name, but he was still hyper-focused on being Super Man, who had a universe to save and a pop star to charm. And so it begins; he already doesn't have enough time in his day for his poor mother.

What can I do? Nothing. We already went almost four whole years without the words "kill" or "gun" entering his vocabulary, and I regard that as hugely successful considering how it was just a matter of time before he'd create a gun out of a toy screwdriver and pretend to kill me with it. So for now I'm perplexed, playing it cool, and putting all TV viewing on heightened security. But trust me, if either of my kids so much as hum the tune to "Poker Face", I am SO calling a shrink.

Date Night

2010-02-15T23:00:00.000-08:00

Image by Martha★ via Flickr

Saturday night was our Valentine's Day Date Night, and we thought we had bamboozled the entire public by going out and celebrating a whole day early. What a couple of CRAZY kids we are! Here was the recipe for our date night beat-the-crowd success (in case you want to take notes and plan better for next year):

1) I went to Ross and found one very adorable/ridiculously comfortable/very affordable dress to wear approximately one hour before Date departure time. In this instance, $10 was a small price to pay for the level of cuteness I brought to the table. And when Dan saw this level of cuteness, he knew it was time to bring the big guns.
2) Dan bringing the big guns = Dan got super cute himself and applied Marc Jacobs cologne (which Ben passionately praised Dan for before we left the house, claiming that he smelled quite "fresh"). Dan also wore his new fedora which made him even taller and sexier and further affirming my decision to marry him 5 years and 3 months ago. I haven't always made the best decisions, but that one stays at the top of my "way to go" list.
3) Went to dinner ridiculously early (because this sneaky tactic will always yield many table possibilities AND increase your chances of arriving upon some sort of "happy hour" special).
4) Went to see a movie that has been out for 2 months (in our case, the very "romantic" Avatar) and consequently the dust had settled around the hype of said movie. Therefore, we were able to claim two decent seats. And honestly, half the fun of it all was smuggling in 3 bags of M&M's that we purchased from the gas station just minutes before. Because when you're paying $11 for a movie ticket (can you believe they charge $2 whole extra dollars for the 3-D!) buying M&M's for a decent price feels like a small victory. For the record, and for those curious, I did enjoy Avatar. It was visually incredible and really quite beautiful. But I'm sure anyone reading this already knows the reasons to see Avatar because Dan & I were most likely the last people on earth to see it.
5) Drove home holding hands, arrived home relaxed, paid the babysitter, received one angry voicemail from our grumpy neighbor who complains about our dog (we're going with the "kill them with kindness" approach), cuddled up and fell asleep within 3.5 seconds of hitting my pillow.

I hope I always get excited to put on a dress for Dan, and I hope he always gets excited to put cologne on for me. Because in our crazy day-to-day lives, both gestures are rare. But I cherish having such a simple way to let him know that I love him with all of my heart.

Really, it was quite the perfect evening.

Sassypants

2010-02-12T22:09:00.000-08:00

So during my time of being MIA from this blog, my baby girl officially (and FINALLY) became a walking girl. I know! Very. Big. News. And although this is what I've been yearning for quite some time now (no offense Ella, but 25 pounds is a bit much to lug around all day, and these hips of mine aren't what they used to be since birthing two babies), I find I'm the slightest bit...sad. Because, let's face it: it's official. Ella totally doesn't need me for anything anymore. I mean, aside from the whole feeding her/protecting her thing. Ohhhh, the emotional conflict that is parenting.

Anyway, I've discovered over these last 15 months of her life that she is gifted in many areas, but perhaps the two areas she continues to excel in are 1) being ridiculously cute and 2) being ridiculously sassy. She is doing things that shock me on a daily basis that seem FAR TOO EARLY for her to have mastered. Like, quality Academy Award Winning Performances such as arching her back when I'm trying to buckle her in the carseat. Or throwing herself on the floor (face down) and crying bitter tears when I use that painful word, "NO". There is a very strong shoe fetish that has already developed. She sometimes appears to intentionally soil her outfit of the day, JUST SO I CAN CHANGE HER INTO A NEW ONE. She's crazy for anything that resembles a baby doll. And I'm fairly certain the other day she attempted to roll her eyes at me out of pure disgust and annoyance. Ever since then, I've been expecting her any day now to say something like, "Uh, Mom, can you, like, drop me off at the park, like, a few blocks away so, like, not all my friends see you? And why can't we have a cooler car? Honda's are SOOOOO last year. By the way, can I like, borrow $20? And your mascara?"

And we haven't even scratched the surface of the impending PMS/raging hormone years. I'm pretty sure I have NO IDEA what I'm in for down the road. Lord, have mercy.

Which is precisely why I force myself to take little videos, such as this one, so that I can look back 15 years from now and say, see? Isn't she wonderful? Isn't she the most darling, precious thing you ever did see? Don't wring her neck! Instead grab her and make her watch these sweet home videos that show just how crazy I was for that baby girl, and how one look with those chocolate brown eyes of hers, and I am putty in her chubby little hands.

On Where I've Been

2010-02-11T22:15:00.000-08:00

I am not good at using my time to its utmost efficiency. Or maybe it's just that I grossly underestimate how long most things will take. Example: I've always been pretty convinced that driving anywhere in the county will take me about 15 minutes. And then in those RARE instances when I actually trek out on a Costco run (one of my top 5 most dreaded outings because who can stand the chaotic parking lots and terrible lighting and the lines and the ridiculously heavy carts), clear on the other side of the county, it becomes very obvious that "15 minutes" was a major underestimation. More examples: a few years ago, I saw no reason why we couldn't paint three bedrooms in the span of one morning, even if we had a curious crawling baby at the bottom of our ladders, playing in the tray of wet paint. I honestly thought it would take an hour. SINGULAR. One hour. Really, it took 5 days. In this case, gross underestimation of about 39 hours.

My husband still laughs (and yes, there's a slight mocking tone to his laugh) at my constant state of over-optimism. I'm the type of person who wakes up thinking how wonderful it would be to make a lunch for my husband before he leaves for work, begin a load of laundry, prepare individual 3 egg omelets from scratch (but not before I begin making delicious morning muffins) for the entire family, clean the kitchen, get everyone showered, dressed and pressed before 8 am. But in reality, the truth is SOMEthing always gives, something falls to the bottom of the priority list, and the something is usually my shower or personal grooming time that suffers. So instead, my reality is Dan leaves the house in the morning making his own sad little lunches, laundry only gets done when everyone is out of clean underwear, I've still never actually made an omelet in my life, the kitchen accumulates dishes all day long, I often face the world without makeup or appropriate clothing (I feel a nomination for What Not To Wear coming on...), and sometimes the dog doesn't get fed until dinner. Jealous?

So what's with all the true confessions and where have I been, you ask (well at least 3 of you have asked)? Why have I abandoned my blog for almost a month?

I'm not really sure. All I know is, the kids both got sick at the same time, and then I underwent what was the two most challenging weeks of my life. This wasn't the first time they've both been sick simultaneously, but it was definitely the most exhausting. A few doctor visits, sleepless nights and SEVERAL prescriptions later, they have been restored to health, but I honestly think the experience took a huge toll on me. The backlash of it all sent me into an almost month-long state of writer's block. There were lots of tears. There were days where it took every ounce of energy just to get out of bed and do it all over again. I was like a 90 year old woman, and would fall asleep within an hour of eating my dinner. I could hardly even muster the energy to watch The Bachelor! I was behind on EVERYTHING for weeks. Bills. Phone calls. Emails. Showering. Working out. Grocery shopping. Showering. Quilting (!). Reading. Showering. And truthfully, it's hard to sit and blog when you feel unclean and hungry and completely out of sorts. So....I just didn't blog. I just didn't do a lot of things.

And, I'm a creature of habit. So once I got out of the routine of blogging (and showering and paying bills and working out and quilting) it was extremely hard for me to get back in it. It's just the type of person I am- regardless of the wonderful intentions I may have, I have a tendency to over-promise and under-deliver. I mean, for heaven's sakes, when I was growing up I had my younger siblings convinced that if we just put a little elbow grease into it, surely we could dig a tunnel to China. TEAMWORK! KEEP DIGGING!!! See? Classic case of over-promise, under-deliver (or as I affectionately refer to it, OPUD).

Also, for the record (and somewhat in my defense): there haven't been many inspirational "bloggable moments" lately that I felt were of any interest to write about. But then again, I've been asleep or in a haze lately, so maybe I missed a few things.

But, regardless, I'm back, baby. Sooooooooo back.

And I killed it at the gym yesterday and celebrated my success with a homemade milkshake.

Cream Cheese Pie

2010-01-18T19:17:00.000-08:00

I cannot deny that I love a good slice of cheesecake, but when it comes down to it, I actually much prefer this "spin-off" alternative-- the cheesecake's cousin, shall we say? It's called Cream Cheese Pie, and I've been eating this version since I was in diapers. Literally. There's a picture of me SOMEwhere in my half-naked glory, sporting nothing but a diaper, cream cheese pie crumbs, and a giant smile. It's been in my family as long as I can remember (the recipe, not the picture), and although I'm sure we weren't the ones who created the recipe, I've yet to find one person who has tasted it for the first time in my presence and then commented, "Oh yeah. I've totally had that before." I've loved this pie for so long that I can remember requesting it for almost EVERY birthday when I was a young girl. And I think my mom was always secretly thrilled because she may be the only person who loves it even more than I do.

There's so much to love about this pie (though I've been known to lick my plate anytime there's a graham cracker crust involved....) and I think the reason I prefer it over Cousin Cheesecake is that it's a little less dense, and therefore a little less rich. It's creamy and a bit tart (thanks to the sour cream top layer...which reminds me, did I mention the two layers?) and buttery and even better when you throw some berries on it. Also, I don't know of a SIMPLER recipe that produces such an amazing final product. Time to get baking! (Alicia, that means you!)

Cream Cheese Pie
Crust:
16-18 graham crackers
1/3 c. sugar
1/2 stick melted butter (+ more if needed)

Preheat oven to 350. Combine graham crackers & sugar in food processor and mix until crackers are crumbly (or alternatively, you could put them in a large ziploc bag and use a rolling pin to crush). Then slowly add in melted butter. If crust is too dry, add more melted butter, about 1 T. at a time. Crust consistency should be fine, sticky crumbs. Press crust into bottom & sides of a 9 inch pie dish. Bake at 350 for about 8 min. and allow crust to cool. Turn oven down to 300.

While graham crust is cooling, mix together the ingredients for the bottom layer:
Bottom layer:
8 oz. package of cream cheese, room temperature
2 eggs
1/2 c. sugar
1 t. vanilla
Beat until lumps are gone and batter is smooth. Pour into graham pie shell. Bake at 300 for about 20 minutes or until pie is slightly jiggly (NOT soupy). Cool completely, then place in fridge to chill for at least 1 hour.

Top layer:
8 oz. sour cream
2 T. sugar
1 t. vanilla
Mix together, pour on top of chilled pie and spread evenly. Bake at 350 for about 15-20 min., or until set. Cool once again, and refrigerate until set (at least a couple hours). ENJOY!

Leading Me On

2010-01-14T14:15:00.000-08:00

Image via Wikipedia

Lately we've had a unique little situation unfold outside our house. Sometimes a UPS or Fed Ex truck will pull into our driveway, and without fail I sit there watching and waiting by the window, completely engrossed in finding out what unexpected delivery could possibly be arriving to our home. Because unfortunately, Lord knows it wasn't me that ordered something. And then, after a good 2 minutes of this thrilling little waiting period, they drive away and I am left in an anti-climactic emotional heap.

Since this has happened more than a handful of times, it can really only mean one thing in my book: there must have been some sort of memo (unbeknown to us) distributed to courier companies near and far, alerting them that our driveway has been nominated for the perfect little pit-stop destination. Come one, come all! The Dewig Driveway is THE PLACE to sit around and twiddle your thumbs, Fellow Couriers! Sure, there's a creepy stay-at-home mom inside who is ALWAYS in her sweats and tries to unsuccessfully spy on us in secret, but it's a small price to pay for an opportunity to sleep/eat/waste time on the job!

How did I not see this coming?

So here's what I have to say to my local UPS & Fed Ex Drivers: You are all a big tease. AND, it is my strong opinion that if you are going to have the audacity to use my driveway for pit-stopping or making personal phone calls or just taking a brief nap, then the least you could do is give me some sort of signal indicating there is no intention of bringing a fun surprise to my doorstep. Perhaps you could put on your hazard lights. I'll get the message loud & clear, even yell a "ROGER THAT" out my door if you'd like. Or maybe just make a sign that reads, "Don't Get Your Hopes Up" and mount it to your dashboard. You do whatever way works for you, but please, implement some sort of system ASAP. Otherwise one of these days I'm going to be forced to greet you in my driveway with my overly-hyper dog that you all seem to be SO scared of, and demand that you give me one of your boxes. The prettiest or heaviest one. Don't say you were not warned. Deal?

Ouch.

2010-01-13T22:32:00.000-08:00

The other day I got an email notification that I had received a comment on my blog from a name I did not recognize. And I was all, Oh super! I see what's happening here! Obviously strangers are reading my blog and love it so much, they feel compelled to leave me comments! So in the midst of my giddiness, I logged onto my account and realized that the Mystery Fan's comment was in some sort of foreign Chinese-ish language. Maybe it was Japanese? Mandarin? Vietnamese? Forgive me, I really don't know. But it was the sort of language that uses those crazy symbols for letters. At first I was really disappointed, because there was no way of my translating a word here and there (as I could have with Spanish. Or Pig Latin), and NOW how in the world was I supposed to know what my Secret Admirer loved the most about my blog? How can I connect with my sweet little International Reader if I can't understand his/her feedback? This was a quandary.

And then I made the discovery that their comment was clickable! Hooray! A link that would surely bring me to a whole new world-- theirs! Perhaps it would even lead me to their blog? And I could learn a little bit more about my Secret Admirer? I could see what we have in common, what our common interests were, what led them to my own blog?

Or, Just Kidding.

Turns out it was just spam. The pornographic kind. Good old Chinese/Japanese/Vietnamese porno spam. Getting that smut in English is annoying enough, but in another crazy language? Ten times worse. So thanks for that, International Secret Admirer.

Bottom line: no one from China (or Japan or Vietnam) reads my blog. And for the record, it appears I'll be having a slice of Humble Pie for dinner. Delish.

My Very First W.I.P.

2010-01-12T15:08:00.000-08:00

(That's Work In Progress for those of you who aren't familiar with production-type lingo).

Did I mention to y'all that I started making a quilt? Or maybe I'm already getting ahead of myself. Did I mention to y'all that my very loving and generous (and incredibly gifted) mother-in-law gave me a beautiful Bernina sewing machine for my birthday a few years ago? She did. It was probably the most exciting thing I've ever received in the mail. It's beautiful and has been very forgiving and patient with me. I've done lots of little projects over the years, but I've been so busy birthing and nursing babies that I've never really had the time or energy level to do something on a grander scale.

But 2010 is going to be my year, baby! Break out the thread and bobbins!

So, as I was saying, I'm in the process of making a quilt. My very first one, and I'm very emotionally involved and attached to it. It's not going to be the most amazing quilt you've ever seen, but I'm pouring lots of love and honest effort into it. Did you ever see that movie Like Water for Chocolate? It's a pretty weird little movie so I'm not exactly recommending it. But what I remember and loved the most is that the main character does a whole lot of cooking fabulous Mexican food, and all of her desires and wishes are translated into her medium- her cooking. So, when she's sad, her tears inevitably drop into the food she's preparing, leaving those who ingest the food weepy and full of sorrow. When she is feeling full of love and passion, those who ingest her food are hit with an overwhelming desire for love and uncontrollable happiness. I'm kind of hoping for the same thing here- that whoever uses the quilt feels all warm and fuzzy inside because of the love I poured into making it. Either that, or I'm hoping they won't notice what's sure to be dozens of novice-like errors.

If you're wondering if I'm tackling this project with a plan, YOU BET I AM! For the most part, I'm taking an ample amount of naivety and combining it with my very hopeful recipe for success:

Take the support and encouragement I've received from this woman, my mother-in-law (the quilting QUEEN!)

ADD the inspiration from some of her most beautiful pieces of work:

Plus my choice of fabrics

All sewn into a billion rows

Will hopefully yield SOMETHING like this in the end (thank you, Amy Butler, for making such pretty fabric):

Pretty cute, right? I'm staying positive. I'll keep you posted. Unless something goes terribly wrong, then I'll probably deny ever having started this project in the first place....