Happy Father's Day

Pancakes:
2 eggs
2 cups milk + 1 tsp vinegar (unless you have buttermilk on hand, then just 2 cups buttermilk)
3 Tbsp oil
1 Tbsp vanilla
1 Tbsp brown sugar
2 cups flour
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda

Mix the first five ingredients together, then add the last three all at once.

Make sure your griddle is hot.

Today, we made them Dad-sized.

If I had enough space to vacuum I could solve the world's problems

Maybe.

Probably not.

But I could solve a good chunk of my own!

I do my best thinking when I'm vacuuming. The hum of the machine drowns out the sounds of everything else.

Today I was remembering a conversation I had a long time ago with a friend. She shared wisdom with me that someone had shared with her. It was the kind of thing I need to remind myself of often.....

Years ago, she joined a bible study with women both young and old. God had been teaching her some big things in her life, and she was feeling some serious convictions. She shared those convictions with the group and felt that since she was being convicted, she would help them feel convicted, too.

Later that day, a kind older woman took her aside. She gently reminded her that personal convictions from God are wonderful, powerful things. But that they're personal. They aren't always meant for everyone around you. Sometimes they might need to be shared...but we need to measure our words, so that we aren't passing judgement in the name of imparting wisdom.

This information served as a wake up call for me. I go through times when I'm being pulled and stretched and convicted on all sorts of things. Sometimes it's uncomfortable. Sometimes it's exciting. Every time it's a growing experience that moves me in the right direction.

But I need to remember that what is being done in me is personal.

If there's a show that I don't feel like I should watch, or a book I shouldn't read, or a place I shouldn't go, those are things God's doing in me. He knows the ways I'm impacted. He knows my heart.

He didn't make everyone just like me, and He's not working in everyone exactly like He's working in me.

We're not all at the same place in our journey. You aren't going to have the same struggles as I do. Sometimes He allows us to go down a road to learn a gigantic lesson. Sometimes He puts a person in the road to share some wisdom....sometimes He doesn't.

Sometimes the person in the road ran there of their own accord. And you want to drive right over top of them.

All of this was to say that I was reminded today that convictions are powerful and personal. Sometimes they are meant to be shared. Sometimes they are not.

I'm praying for the wisdom to know the difference.

And for a heart that doesn't want to judge.

fyi...

Every now and again, there will be a comment here from someone in China. Or Thailand? Or Japan....somewhere with a lovely Asian alphabet. I never know what they are saying, but I'm pretty sure it has nothing to do with what I'm saying. It's some kind of spam, that if you click on what they write you will find yourself transported to some grody {adult} site.

I usually catch the comments and delete them.

But just in case you should see one and wonder....I'm saving you the trouble of further investigation.

Maybe there's a way to block them? I have no idea.

Just wanted to give a heads up.

And if you should know how I can prevent them in the future, that would be slick.

Carry on.

Bagels

Initial inspiration found here.




Recipe here.

So easy. It's ridiculous.

And so delicious. It's criminal.


(I kneaded in some cinnamon after the first rise, then after boiling sprinkled cinnamon and sugar on top before baking.)

random thoughts on a Tuesday

I wanted a nap SO badly this morning. My youngest still takes two naps a day. (Which is the best present any mom can receive.)

After tennis--my girl started tennis lessons this morning--we came home and played for a little bit. The babe was over due for his nap. He went down easy peasy lemon squeezy.

I made lunch. Spicy chicken wings for the boy and left over pizza for the girl.

My cupboards are looking a little bare, but I REFUSE to run to the store until I absolutely must. And I've got lovely things for dinner for the next few days, and okay things for breakfast....and mediocre things for lunch. Mediocre if your name is Mom. Which mine is...so I had yogurt mixed with Kashi's answer to shredded wheat. You know what? It was lackluster.

I ate it.

I got full in the belly, but not in the mind. Do you know what I mean? It didn't do anything for me. I like a few bells and whistles.

So I started eyeballing the kids plates.

And you know what?

They cleaned them today....save for a scrap of chicken and 1/3 piece of pizza.

Once the bigs were done with lunch, they went to play. I reminded them that it was IMPERATIVE to be QUIET so as not to wake the sleeper.

Cue the herd of buffalo.

Right outside the sleeper's door, on their way to play Polly Pockets and G.I Joe.

At this point, I was laying on the couch. Holding my breath. Would he keep sleeping? This was my moment. Would a twenty minute nap be too much to ask?

Yes.

It would.

I choked back a tear and swallowed my urge to growl angrily at the buffalo.

My nolongersleeping-er snuggled with me on the couch. Then Daddy came home for lunch. And I lost my snuggler. But not my spot on the couch.

Daddy stepped in so I could lay motionless for 4 minutes.

I dreamed about second nap time. Second nap time is coming.

And is here now.

And now today is a good day.

Because it isn't yesterday. When I got to shampoo the carpet and a piece of furniture. Because of a diaper.

Apples and Pear

Two of these have taken up residence in the same home as the bamboo trio below. And that house isn't mine. Which makes me feel glad.

her journal

Yesterday was the last day of school. My girl brought home 40 lbs of stuff from her desk. She presented me with her writing journal and asked if I wanted to read it. (Are you kidding me? YES! How long before she hides this stuff under her bed?)

Can I just say that I struck the daughter jackpot? This girl is golden.

My favorite excerpts from her writing:

"No, I don't want a bat for a pet. My father's wife would freak out probably."

...

"When you are on a team you need to be gleeful if you lose. And you should try to be calm and willing. You don't have to be stylish or brainy. You just need to be big-hearted. And that is priceless. Plus thats all you need to be a swell team."

...

"I wouldn't like to be a paleontologist. Because I don't like to get my clothes derty. Every body else in our class might want to but I don't. So being a paleontologist isn't easy. Thats why I don't want to be one. And also they are getting derty right exactly now possibly."

...

"If you have a swell sibling their good. But if you have a wild sibling their not good. I think I am a swell sibling. And I think the same for my brothers. Plus some brothers are great when you play castle. Because they could be a gard. So sisters could be the princess or queen."

still more

This is a big one.

My house is starting to look like a gallery.

Sometimes you gotta do the hard thing...

Like right now: I spent a better part of the day doing laundry. Except instead of folding it right out of the dryer I brought it to my bed and flung it in a pile (now mountain). The good news is that every stitch of clothing in my house is clean. The bad news is that it's all in a mountain on my bed. And it isn't folding itself.

There are 14 other things I would rather be doing right now.

But I'm going to go and do the hard thing - folding a mountain.

Because I'll need to sleep in that bed tonight.

painting

I've been keeping busy lately...

....more to come.

the party's over

It's time to stop celebrating a month of little weight gain.

I'm finding that celebrating is like stepping on the caloric accelerator.

I'm pretty sure there will be no celebrating next time.

Pooh.

so help me, God...

My son has trouble saying his 'r's. When he talks, he sounds like he's from Boston. Caah, instead of car. Beh-thday instead of birthday. He's getting better. He's practicing. He hears it himself, and is keenly aware of the words he's saying wrong.

Which is why it MAKES ME SO MAD when people repeat what he says right in his earshot, mimicking the way he's said it. They think it's cute. It is cute. He sounds adorable. But he's five and a half now, and he doesn't think it's cute or adorable.

He came home from preschool before Christmas and wanted me to help him say his daddy's name correctly. He had been trying to tell his teacher his dad's name - which has one 'r' smack in the middle. She couldn't understand him. He said it over and over to her, and finally the Para helped him out. She understood. He was so frustrated.

Because it's a single letter impediment, and because it's such a common one, he wouldn't qualify for aid until he's much older. So I looked online to see if there were any exercises we could practice at home. I learned that an R impediment is one of the trickiest because there are so many variants. Ar, Er, Ir, Or, Ur, Ra, Re, Ri, Ro, Ru....etc, each one requiring a completely different muscle placement.

I found some great tips on what to practice, and we've been working with him. There are several words that he couldn't say correctly before that he's completely nailing now. Which makes him feel really proud. It makes me feel really proud, too.

So help me God if you should mimic him and I hear you. And so help you Jesus if your child makes fun of him and I hear it. Nothing brings out Mama Bear quicker.

I'm not opposed to spanking.

Good riddance, Mr. Microwave

A few years ago my microwave died. It was a quick and painless death. I mourned its loss for about 3 minutes after removing it from my counter top.

And I looked around. At space. Extra, empty space.

I am a huge fan of extra empty space.

We thought about replacing it right away, but in the days after it conked out, I hadn't really missed it. So we waited. And are waiting still. The only reason I would even want a microwave these days would be for popcorn. But microwave popcorn isn't good for you....you know, with the carcinogens in the bags? So when I need popcorn (which isn't that often) I send my husband to the store. For kettle and white cheddar. It suits me just fine.

And do you know how much more delicious left-overs taste when you reheat them in the oven or on the stove top? SO MUCH MORE DELICIOUS! It takes MAYBE 5-10 minutes to heat them through. Which is about the time it takes me to wash my dishes. Or vacuum the floor. I have the opportunity to practice patience while I clean to pass the time!

I would highly recommend life with out a microwave.

It will make you a better person.

Or something.

and then,

I made bars once the caramel rolls were gone.

To celebrate a month's worth of little weight gain.

It's called logic.

Naturally.

Yesterday

I made caramel rolls.

And ate six of them for dinner.

Then I fed some to my children for dinner. (With bananas. On the side.)

They were really r e a l l y good.

Too good.

Now they're gone.

I'm not making more.

So here's the thing...

It either happened or it didn't.

Jesus was either a raving lunatic or He was fully God and fully man.

I remember in college having my faith COMPLETELY rocked. Completely. Where all the things I used to believe, no longer made sense. They seemed illogical.

My professor spoke about religion and how long ago - and even now - people need/ed to make sense of life and the world. So they created wild and fantastic stories. And those stories grew and evolved and become even more magical and wonderful. Too wonderful, it seemed.

People have weak minds. They need to cling to ideas that bring them comfort in the night. Grasping at anything to help when trials and tribulations abound. Imaginary. Pretend.

My mind couldn't pick up the broken remnants of my religion and put them back together.

And I was scared. What if I died? Then nothing? What if it had all been true, and I died in a state of disbelief?

Crap.

I had no idea what to do with myself. I tried and tried to reason things out. Nothing made sense anymore. I went to a book store and bought The Case for Christ. I read it. But it didn't restore my mind. Or my faith.

I prayed. And I prayed and I prayed. What surprised me was during that period of mental turmoil, I never felt alone. I know that sounds cliche. But it's true. It was this feeling of peace in my body, that I couldn't reach my head. I took my doubts to the Lord.

"Here's the thing, God. It doesn't make sense. I have all these questions. I can't reason them out. I don't get it. Help me get it."

Slowly. Very slowly, the pieces started coming back together. The more time I spent reading my bible, the more it all makes sense. The more I realize that God is big enough to handle my doubts. He alone.

It was a powerful realization. He isn't God because I believe in Him. He isn't not God because someone doesn't believe. He just is. No one can deny the fact that a man named Jesus was born into this world 2000 some years ago. One can't deny His existence. History is full of information about Him. He either was who He said He was, or He wasn't.

My believing in Him doesn't make Him who He is. But, my believing in Him makes me who I am. A flawed, weak, selfish sinner. Who He loves anyway. Doubts and all.

Baby Boy No. 3

I had an ultrasound on Monday. My husband joined me for the appointment. The first question the Ultrasound Lady asked us was if we wanted to find out if baby was a boy or a girl. I may have been a little overly enthusiastic when telling her that, yes, indeed we wanted to know.

And right away, as clear as day, we found out we're having another boy. Three boys. I'm the mother of three boys. We're really excited. Really excited. My girl is pleased because not only does she not have to share a room, her brother number 1 has to share his room with TWO others. The boys room. My boy is excited because now the boys REALLY outnumber the girls. My baby has no idea what's going on. He'll be in for a rude awakening just before his second birthday.

Fun times ahead!

14 reasons why I married the best man on earth

1. Several of the past nights, he's gotten home after the kids are already in bed sleeping. So this morning he woke them up early and got them breakfast at Burger King and took them for a morning drive before work/school.

2. When I first started staying home with baby number 2, we completely underestimated how much it would cost us. We gobbled right through our savings. Instead of me going back to work, he got a second job. He would teach during the week, and put in 24 hour weekends in a metal manufacturing place. There were a hundred days in a row (literally) where he wouldn't get a single day off. He never complained. And once, when he overheard me telling someone how hard it was on me (!!!!) that HE was working so much, he didn't even give me the stink eye.

3. He actually plays with our kids.

4. He hardly ever gets to do anything just for himself. And he doesn't whine about it.

5. He squishes bugs (even the big ones) with his bare hand.

6. He is smart.

7. He can make things. Like, seriously, nice things.

8. He repairs our cars.

9. When he forms a political opinion, it's because he's informed, he's researched it himself, not just listened to some stupid radio or tv talking head. He is able to see all the sides. He knows his stuff. (I do not know my stuff...and sometimes he can talk me in a circle. I like that.)

10. He will talk with me for hours at night. And when I talk about stupid things, he still listens.

11. Sometimes he brings me home chile rellenos for no good reason.

12. He is superhuman strong. I've seen him lift a refrigerator. By himself.

13. He's a good guy.

14. He believes.

Kerri and Kara

The first year we were married we lived back home. The place where we grew up. Went to high school. Met.

There are certain aspects of our first married year that are remembered differently by each of us. Those aspects are named baseball and hunting. I remember a zillion hours of baseball - both coached and played. And a thrillion hours of hunting. He remembers that there was some baseball and some hunting.

Irregardless, there was a good bit of time my new husband was occupied doing his thing. Fortunately for me, we were married right around the same time as two other couples. Dear couples. One couple is related to us. That is to say, the husband component of that couple is the brother of my husband component. The other couple had a husband similarly involved in his own things......

This left three new wives with plenty of time on our hands. I'm so thankful for those ladies. I can't even tell you. Sometimes we would all get together as couples to play games and eat burgers from the grill. But more often than not, when our husbands were out and about, we ladies would be out walking. Or painting the kitchen of the only home owned amongst us. Or wallpapering. Or tearing down wallpaper. And repainting. Etc. We held jewelry parties. Pampered Chef parties. Mary Kay parties.

We were busy gals.

It's since been a decade plus. The house we painted saw the birth of a baby. Its family outgrew it years ago. We've all moved a few times. All of us have children. Life looks a lot different today than it did all those years ago. Even though we only see each other a few times a year at most, I love those ladies and count them as dear friends. Their friendship was a blessing to me in those first years.

Every new wife should have such friends.

sunrise, sunset

Seven years ago tomorrow, I cried. The ugly cry. In bed. At night. And couldn't sleep.

Because eight years ago on Sunday, I gave birth to my baby girl.

Seven years ago on Sunday, that baby girl was turning one. And I couldn't handle it. The year had flown SO quickly. Like a snap. And my teeny tiny baby wasn't a teeny tiny baby anymore. And never would be again. I could FEEL the time slipping away.

And here we sit, on the cusp of the day marking eight years since her birth. And I'm doing the ugly cry. Because I can still FEEL the time slipping away. Like less than a snap.

How can it be?

I wish I could slow things down a little bit. I want to enjoy this more before it's too late. Next week she'll be graduating high school. Next month, walking down the aisle.