one sweet watch

Dan and I had fun collaborating on this awesome Swatch-esque birthday cake for his dad. Orange creamsicle cake made this cake taste just as good as it looked!

i groan

I am at the library typing this post. I came here to pay my excessive fine as well as request some book club books.
On the KDL website, this announcement was smack dab in the middle.

I closed my eyes, and silently groaned. Why, why, why, why, why?

This quote and the announcement it is advertising is so oxymoronic, I almost feel nautious. If we are "living an attitude of equal respect for all people", then why are we singling out women?

Oh, if I were braver I'd just grab my gut and roll around on the floor right here in the library groaning out loud--and not in a good way. But I won't do that, because I am a lady (hah--me being sexist against myself--that's funny).

Why, why, why, why, why? Must...get...home...and...read...more...Sarah...Sumner...

I choose...business ethics

Dan's parents are here for a visit. They come bearing bags of gifts. We eat out 2 meals a day. We shop for fun. It's the same dance every time.

My ethical dilemmas and justifications (which I don't agree with, but pacify myself with):

dilemma: We would not spend this much of our own money to eat out nor eat out this often.
justification: Rather than spending time prepping and cleaning up, we are spending every precious moment together fully engaged in each other. (I don't even buy this one--some of my best conversations with my mother-in-law, whom I now call "mom", have happened in the kitchen--so this is sheer indulgence).

dilemma: We are expected to pick out things for them to buy us. Again, money we would not spend on ourselves, and the ugly "I want, I want, I want" monster rears its ugly head. Are we taking advantage? Do we and our kids only see them as wallets and expect them to gratify our "wants"?
justification: This is God's way of providing things like clothing for us and our kids, and gives them joy to be able to give us things that make us happy. In addition to frivolous things (in which there is indeed merit--my kids will think well of Grandma and Poppie each time they wear their new fireman and lotus flower raincoats, I try to pick out pragmatic items as well (pajamas, underwear, socks, jeans). I do get nearly sick thinking "will we ever be able to do this for our kids?". A real kick in the pants for us to work on being fiscally responsible in the now as well as being disciplined to plan, save, invest, and prepare for the future.

dilemma: We dress ourselves and our kids so properly when they are here--in essence putting on a bit of a facade.
justification: They love us no matter what we look like, but we feel like we have to wear or dress our kids in what they have bought for us (either now or in the past) so they can revel in their own generosity. They have such a high standard for their own appearance, that we feel like we have to reach the same level. How many week days are we ironing blouses to wear under a sweater that matches the socks and dress shoes, and this is one of the 4 times a year I break out the curling iron. I think the justification for this category is that it honors them. Am I "to my own self be[ing] true?" Maybe not, but it's about honoring your parents in a way that speaks to them, I guess!?!

OK, it's my window to hop in the shower....gotta scott...oops...I mean scoot...

Naan'n special

I have been on a relentless search for easily accessible Naan bread. A few weeks ago I found these Fabulous Flats Tandoori Naan breads at Meijer!

We DEVOURED them. I seriously fantasize about them. Like how I can run errands and have to get to Meijer to get another package.

I sent Dan grocery shopping last week and meticulously schooled him in exactly where in Meijer I found them (they were all the way on the left in the lower rack of the end-cap of the donut/bagel/rolls display case in front of the bakery--the end cap facing the store entrance, not the one facing the organic food fridge case...etc.) and there were none in that location. I think I had to go through the five stages of grief--shock, anger, denial, sadness, etc...

Yesternight's shopping trip, however, yielded a package of the precious bread, flour and ghee concoction. And I cannot wait for dinner tonight.

I am so excited about cooking and eating chicken masala with jasmine rice and a wonderful piece of warm naan with some melted butter brushed on top. Dan likes his drizzled with olive oil--he's so health conscious!

Let me just say, if you happen to be wandering Meijer and find these babies, for $1.99, you are in for a treat. You can use them to make sandwiches, pizzas, to dip in hummus, as a nice side to a salad, for soup, warmed up and drizzled with honey or agave nectar and some cinnamon for a dessert--the possibilities are endless!

Seriously folks, it is taking all of the self-control in the world right now not to rip this package open and binge right now. This post is my accountability.

p.s.-Brooke--do you have a naan recipe? I'd love to learn to make this, and incorporate some healthier ingredients than the unbleached enriched all purpose white flour this one is made with...

Itchy fingers

Man, I've been itching to write, but have not the time. Or when I do our (borrowed) Internet is down.

I don't know if it was the extra dose of sunshine I soaked up in Oklahoma, some awesome personal interactions I've had in the past few days, or the Starbucks I just drank or what, but I am pumped.

I'm so excited on my friend Heather's behalf that she quit her job to pursue a dream. I am not that brave. I have dreams, but not the imagination to make them reality.

I read a magazine a friend gave me that is solely written by its readers. The submissions aren't paid, but I'm excited at imagining myself at the library with Dan's laptop, a Bible, some yellow lined paper and a medium point blue pen scratching out something to submit.

I'm completely gung ho on some incredible ministry ideas and opportunities I've been squelching inside waiting for the time to make them happen, and I think that time is within reach. Thinking through the process, parameters, and the idea of writing up a proposal has me almost giddy.

I guess I'm finally starting to think that hope isn't just a four-letter-word that floats, but a verb that is real and active in my life. ME!

Next time I have a Debbie Downer moment (day, week, month, what-have-you) please either caffeinate me or remind me of this post.

"If I wasn't a celebrity, would you still wanna be with me?" (10 pts)

ink on the road

Road trips are measured in CD's and cigarettes--if we smoked!

The smell of the car after opening the door from a bathroom break in a gas station--peanut butter, goldfish, sweat, pee pee diapers, farts and recycled air. Pennies all over the car and the requisite french fry under the seat--the one you'll find when you're desperately digging for a quarter, a stick of gum, or a chapstick, or if you're hungry enough might chance a nibble at after picking off the lint balls and gum crust chunks.

Not feeling tired, but worried you are after your co-pilot asks "how you doin'? tired at all? want me to take over?" and you say--too quickly--no--and watch them settle in and start to snore.

The sun is warmer through the windshield--that's why my feet reside on the dashboard. Add smell of sun-steeped feet to the list.

Wal-Mart that looks like a hoe-down is happening inside. A famous landmark that's way cooler on postcards than IRL and grabbing the camera trying to squeeze photo art and great blog posts out of the mundanity, insanity, profanity, urbanity and ultimately our vanity that is road trip, Feb 2007.

No wonder the truckers were honkin'!

my masterpiece

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Hot Scott's

We've got a sizzlin' hot night planned.

We've been looking forward to this night for a few weeks.

This is something we haven't done in a long time.

Dan's been sooo busy at church, we haven't had a lot of time.

I get kinda giggly thinking about it.

After Dan gets home from work we'll shower.
(separately--geez, you guys have dirty minds)

Then we're going to pack a scant few things into a bag.

I'm not sure how much more I can dish!?!

Let's just say there are a few spicy things on the menu.

And it's going to be a real treat.

For both of us.

We got this little get-away for Christmas and have been saving it.

I'm thinking I'm gonna get me some meat, yeah.

But I think I'll pass on the drinks because I want to enjoy the whole experience.

And be able to enjoy "dessert"...

OK. So we're goin' to Chili's....with kids...for Valentimes day. hooray!?!

Finally!

Effusive am not I

I am not a hugger. I am not a hand squeezer. I am not a kiss on the cheeker, air kisser, kiss blower. I am not a hand holder. I am not an encourager.

Today I initiated and gave a hug. Today I said "I want you to know that I care". Today I rubbed a shoulder and said "I think you look beautiful today."

These are so not me. That is when I know they are God in me coming out of me, and I begin to have a modicum of understanding of what "being a vessel" means.

The face of 30

I was sent a Swatch catalogue by Dan's parents......sorry, wait.

Dan's parents sent me a Swatch catalogue so I could pick out a watch for my 30th birthday. I narrowed it down to these. Which looks the most like 30-year-old Jenna to you and why?

(1) FLOWER TRACK (2) LULUDIA (3) SHINING NIGHT

How to draw a proper bath

waxing

My watch ticks like a time bomb on a made-for-television movie.

I drop a jar of sprinkles and cringe awaiting a dread cry from the other room.

But none comes.

"Slow down", I chide myself with clenched teeth, but silently inside my head.

Respite.

Ice clanks in the freezer.

"Is the snow falling diagonally because I live on a hill?", I wonder looking out the window to stretch my ocular muscles, then decide I don't wanna think that hard today.

And the Oscar goes to........ME!

Dan's cousin Kristen works on the Montel Williams show in NYC. One show hosted a baby shower. Each guest got a gift bag filled with amazing products. Kristen snagged four gift bags and gave one to me. One thing inside the enormous gift bag was an O Yikes! diaper bag. This diaper bag costs $145 and was given out to all the nominees of the 2006 Oscar awards.

After only 3 months of gentle but much use, the strap started separating from my bag. I e-mailed the company and got a personal e-mail from the president, Lisa Yap--including her personal cell phone number as she was out of the office promoting her new line that will be coming out in a few weeks.

She apologized for the defect, asked me to mail the bag back and inform her how much the shipping cost so that she could reimburse me. I sent the bag back on Saturday with a handwritten note on some funky, hip paper about how much I really loved my bag, especially b/c it gives me two free hands to deal with three little ones. When she received my bag on Tuesday, she sent me this e-mail:

Hello Jenna,

We just got your bag and have sent you a replacement. I hope being without your bag hasn't been too inconvenient.

I sent the package via UPS Ground - your tracking number is:

xxxxxxxxxxxxx69036

Please contact me if you have any questions,

Lisa

This is the kind of customer service you receive when you own a $145 diaper bag. Wow.

in prep 4 V-day, an E-mail from C-ville

From: Jennifer Anne Hoffman
To: Scott, Daniel Christian
Date: Tue, Jun 2, 1998 1:08am
Subject: Overwhelmed

Dan,

I have been overwhelmed with emotions lately, mostly when it comes to you. I can't get enough of you, and this summer is looking bleak without you near me. I love your eyes. I didn't really get to tell you because we haven't had much private time together and we were talking about other things, and I'm afraid I might not really get to spend QT with you before you leave, and I just want to get this out, and I know you don't want me to write, just want me to talk, but, well, you need to study and it's late, and here goes......After J/S weekend and our little chat about a stale relationship, I was very disgruntled. I was really not sure what I wanted, if I wanted this relationship bad enough, if you were worth all this stuff, etc (but I also realize that I wasn't very rationals as--and I hate to use this as an excuse, but--I was PMS-ing very badly, and stress only amplifies it) I felt like I was standing at a a cross-road, if you will, and the choices were leave Dan in the dust and continue on life's little merry way, or stick it out and work my butt off for this guy. I broke the night my dad called and I had to admit I did something really wrong, and realized I was a loser, and I was crying--weeping worse than I ever had, and it wasn't all because of that, I was realizing that I couldn't give you up, and I had to admit that I needed someone, you. When I talked to you about the rent $ thing with my dad, I was at rock bottom, and you were so there for me, it made me love you more and realize how great you are to me. Since we talked about being vulnerable and communicating, and you told me that if you were going to love me, you had to love the crap too, you opened a door in my heart that is letting me let myself love and trust you. You'll never know how much that statement means to me. I'm so glad you're willing to take all of me together, the good and the bad. I've never ever been so happy before in my life, I don't know how to verbalize it. I've loved every minute we've spent together since we got terms defined and things out in the open so to speak. Dan, I just can't believe how much a part of my life you already are and how much more a part of it I am longing that you be. I love the special relationship you have with your parents, it thrills me to no end. I love seeing you smile, I want to make you smile, you make me smile. I've been telling Cindy that you've made me laugh but never made me cry, and our relationship couldn't move to another level until that happened, but you have made me cry lots, you just don't know it. Those few days that I was struggling (you probably had no idea, or you did and didn't let on) with what I was going to decide about us, I cried so much, I was so frustrated, because I wasn't sure i could love the things about you that frustrate me. Now I know that I'll love your crap, no problem, and I'll work as hard as it takes for me to do the things that make you happy, because you make me so happy. I wrote in my journal for sooooo long last night, that's why I was up until 2am and I was talking to Cindy, and I was crying uncontrollably because I am going to miss you more than I would admit to myself that I would. I know in my head that things will be fine, time will fly, but my heart just isn't listening to reason right now. I am thankful for every minute we've had this weekend today, tonight, and look forward to tomorrow. My favorite things about this weekend were at Eden park when you told me to get back up on the wall so we could wrap our arms around each other--all I could think was that this was where I wanted to stay forever--raccoons, mosquitos, police cars and everything, and when you kissed me by the lake--how impulsive and romantic, I love your soft lips on mine, I love not knowing what you're going to come up with next, or the way you make me feel, listening to you sing in the car--I always pretend you're singing to me and it thrills my heart, swinging and sharing with you at the park felt so right, then your crushing hug and holding hands all the way home--you'll never know how much that means to me. Dan, I won't pretend I'm not scared that the distance will be too much for us, I'm so afraid that you're gonna break my heart. I'm scared that I could have made the wrong decision about the summer, but I won't know until the summer's over--and believe me I wish it were already and I could be assured that things turn out OK. Guess I'm worrying about something I can't really help, I just can't stand the thought of not seeing and touching the person who means the most me in the world on a regular basis. If it means confirming that we get to spend forever together, I'll grit my teeth and get through 3 agonizing months ...you're worth it. I'm about exhausted from the gamut of emotions that I've been experiencing for the past 2 weeks or so. I guess that's what spawned this of off the wall e-mail. I'm just so afraid I won't get to (or won't) say all the stuff that's inside of me when we say "goodbye"--for the summer. Maybe I shouldn't be listening to Delilah, or I just shouldn't love you so much, but that is not to be helped. I guess I should go to bed, and you should too (unless you read this in the morning in which case you're already up.........)
I admire and love you,
Jenna :-)

Raw and potentially somewhat unpalatable

Do you ever think in “blog”? I do. I catch myself doing it all the time—so weird. I think of how I would describe a person or situation as I am in the midst of it. Oh, to have a blue tooth brain that could send my brilliantly written blogs straight to a computer as I am mentally composing them. Because of course, they always happen in the most inopportune places to whip out a keypad—Meijer, the shower, mini van, while standing at the stove, on a walk along the bike path.

Ennyhoo. I feel the need to rid myself of some bloughts (blog+thoughts—pronounced blots even though it might look like blouts) I’ve had lately.

• I’ve wanted to share something with my PPD group, but Dan didn’t even really get it when was trying to express it to him, so I might be better off keeping my mouth shut and not having everyone think I’m a raving religious loon. I feel like this crazy time warp I’ve been stuck in has been a great place of revelation for me. Not great as in "yay" and "woo-hoo", but like something monumental and large and of great import in my life. I was trying to tell Dan that as I’ve felt God the least these past few years, I’ve known He’s there the most, and that my faith is stronger for having moved out of the realm of feelings and into where faith is really faith—trusting in someone you can’t see, or feel, or hear, or relate to, or talk to, and at many times hardly believe is even real or personal or in my life. I’ve felt the same in our marriage as well. In a season where there’s been a severe drought of lovey dovey feelings for Dan, I know the most, maybe even more than I ever have, how deeply grounded and rooted and committed is my love for him. In my act of willing myself to love him despite not having the feelings of attraction or overwhelming infatuation I had in our first years of togetherness, in my choosing to know that I love him even when I don’t feel like I do--or when I just don't feel anything for anyone for long stretches of time. I think as I was bumblingly trying to explain this, I made him afraid that I no longer love God or him or myself or anyone or anything, and probably hurt his feelings in the process.

• IBS—yes, Irritable Bowel Syndrome. Why has this been coming up so much lately? I talked to someone about it on the phone a few weeks ago, then it came up in the movie “The Lady Killers”, and most recently a fellow PP’er talked about BC managing her IBS. Weird. I’ve had a sour stomach for like a week now, and am purposely not looking IBS up on the internet because I’m sure I’ll research myself into having it.

• My inventions. First—a button that comes standard on every cell phone that you can push when it is ringing and you are 1) in the middle of another phone call 2) in the middle of a real-life conversation 3) in a place where you can’t answer your phone just then (like in a movie theater or restaurant where you have to step outside to answer) 4) driving and it’s not safe to pick up yet but will be in a minute—OK, you’re getting the point on the situations. OK, so when you press this button it plays a message for the person ringing in to say “I know you are calling and I will answer in just a minute but can’t answer the phone just yet so don’t hang up” and a few other lines to stall and let that person know you’re going to answer, you want to answer, you will answer, but you can’t just right then and there. Second, interactive book reading. Not like i-books. Like reading a real book that when you come to a word, allusion to a piece of music, art, place, name, smells, sounds, etc you can “hover” as in a mouse or something for a thumbnail of said object/experience. But the book still has to be paper, not electronic, and not weigh a million tons like most electronics do. So, there’s still some R&D to do on this one.

• (In Arnold Shwarzeneggerian) Dahn’t chu knowh dah Dewey de-see-mal seestem? So, I had Dan fax my application to the KDL HR center for a position they have open as a substitute Circulation Assistant. Why? Reasons: 1) I need some peace and quiet in my life. Where better to get that than in a library, right? I can shuush as good as anyone, nicely charge a fine, listen to excuses on why things are late, judge people’s stacks of resources that they are checking out, and am under the false impression I have given myself that I will get paid surf the web in utter silence and uninterrupted for hours on end. 2) My mom was a librarian and it would make her day if I did something she spent years of her life doing as well. 3) There’s an episode of That 70’s Show where Eric fantasizes that Donna is a hot librarian. Let’s just say Dan=Eric and I=Donna. 4) I’m a huge library user and supporter (thanks to all of Dan’s fines). 5) I’d love to do something in my community that I think is really worthwhile.

To be continued....

Frus....Frustra.....Fr.....Frustrati......F......Fru.....Frustrating

Our (neighbor’s) internet has been so frustrating lately. It’s been like click… change a poopy diaper bathe and dress kids and self…click…chop vegetables for stew, mix batch of homemade muffins…click…snack time, put kids down for nap…yesssss—Yahoo mail, click…shower, dress, self-perm hair and paint nails…click Inbox…lunch, take Liam to school and grocery shop…wow, 49 e-mails, sweet…click on one from jeb…do and fold 3 loads of laundry, churn butter…nuts…it timed out. Sigh, swear (inside head—children around)…click refresh…

90 percent or more for less

I've been falling into some amazing deals lately. I don't say this to pat myself on the back for finding them because I don't go searching them out. Well...I guess I do search pretty hard to find 'em so that we can stretch our dollars. I see all of these as huge thank you Lord finds-- especially as we just redid our budget and were amazed at how little is "left over" after our regular expenses each month.

Target--purses for $3 to tuck away for Christmas presents next year. Stretchy gloves 18 cents.

Meijer--Hair accessories marked 90% off plus an additional 50% off clearance prices, so I was getting $4 items for 20 cents or less. Again--Christmas presents for next year.

Macy's-- over $1,000 worth of Calphalon pots and pans for $118. I'm so high on pot(s) right now it isn't even funny.

D&W--Chocolate Mint Truffle creamer 55 cents, whole roasting chickens $1.94.

Library videos, DVD's & music are now free--that'll save us a lot of money in the "entertainment" category of our budget. Now if we can just win one of the Winter Reading Contest drawings for a gift certificate to a restaurant, I'd be thrilled, but that bargain is out of my hands.

My friend Josh

I went to elementary school with a boy named Josh. He was a white-haired Egon. I think he was in love with me, but in my memory I think every boy was in love with me.

Josh liked to write songs. His most important belonging was his keyboard, and close behind were his Michael W. Smith cassettes.

At Josh's birthday party, he played one of his songs for us. It was OK. Nothing great. Not that I'm musical or anything, but it seemed like just a lot of chords, no real melody or depth or seeming storyline to it. But I will never forget the way he described how he wrote this song.

Josh claims that he heard this song while he was dreaming one night. (Probably dreaming about Amy, the REAL love of his life, but he could never get her, so I'm positive that's why he chose me as his second muse). What is important about this verdant storytelling was that he was so animated because both Amy and I were in his listening audience. I vividly remember him saying he heard this song in a dream and whilst still in slumber he knew he needed to get to his keyboard and record the tune before he woke up and forgot it. He says he got out of his bed with his eyes still shut in sleep and rushed to his keyboard and recorded the song. He also claims that as he played the last note, he woke up. He reached out a hopefully shaky finger and pressed "play" to see if he had succeeded, and found that he had indeed recorded his dreamy tune.

I remember this story with a smile often, and it's usually while I'm in the shower. You see, I have written poetry, books, essays, novels, blog posts, e-mails, compelling letters, and many other works of art while in the shower or lying in bed or driving my car, but my memory erases them before I'm able to get them down on paper or in the memory of a computer or anywhere that they can be kept and crafted.

So I laugh at Josh's story of the recorded song, but I'm a bit jealous that he managed to capture a rhapsody he heard deep within his soul when I have not yet been agile enough in my waking sleep to sculpt my own sonnets.

Cheerio

I thought I'd be really smart the other day by popping a Cheerio in my mouth and maneuvering it with my tongue all the way to the back of my jaw. I wanted to know what it felt like to "gum" a Cheerio--you know, the way Addi does every time I plunk a handful of the cereal on her high chair tray.

After positioning it just right behind my molars and between the upper and lower gums, I closed my jaw. And was in for a surprise. It was quite crunchy and didn't feel so good. I had to let my saliva soak it through a little bit before my next "bite". Still not squishy and easily gummed. A little sucking to get out the extra air and a little more saliva helped my third attempt disintegrate the pesky little bugger, but here I am a week later and my back gums are still irritated and sore.

My little experiment has served its purpose. I now understand--firsthand, or should I say firstmouth?--why teething children are cranky.

Doggie style (tee-hee-hee)

Sunday afternoon our family went to visit some special guests at the Cascade library. I dragged everyone over there so we could sit in a hot room for nearly 55 minutes listening and learning all about the Iditarod, sled dog racing, sleds, Alaska, and all kinds of great pioneer stuff. I took Liam and Elli up to the front of the room to sit on the floor in front, and after about 20 min they were done and had wandered to the back of the room with Dan, but I was still sitting there open-mouthed and just loving it all. I need to learn not to use my kids as the foil for my own interests no matter how childish. So the best part was petting the dogs. I love dogs. I could have taken them all home with me. I used to have a Siberian Husky when we lived in the snowy mounts of Colorado. Just a really fun family outing...at least for me! Woof.

I'm a Cowboy, Baby

This box is indestructible!
It is amazing how much care the Okies take of their hats.
When I get brave enough, I might just wear it...

Jet set

So this is Dan voguing for the camera inside my dad's jet. The "old" one. The "crummy" one. The one they're replacing with the custom one that had to be ordered 2 years ago because there's such a waiting list. Yeah. And they're selling this one and buying a third one. Anyone wanna buy a used jet for 5.3 mil? On this jet are a finer set of China, silver, and crystal than I own or probably ever will, bottles of liquor and wine worth more than my wedding bands and leather seats more plush and comfortable than our La-z-boy recliners.

Today I wish for my dad. For his jet and his ability to fly one anywhere in the world they would like to go. I'd go somewhere warm and sunny. Not hot, just warm. I don't like to get sunburned, sand and grit, being wet or sweaty. I'd go all by myself with a bag of books and a buch of money. I can get the books from the library but I'd have to steal the bunch of money. I don't know what I'd do but I just know It'd make me happier and less bored than I find myself day in and day out.

On a happier note--Dan looks awful handsome and totally rockstarish in this photo.

Hotcakes

Two pancakey things happened to me today--weird. We had blueberry pancakes for dinner tonight after church. For some reason, they just tasted really good.

Then, as I checked my e-mail tonight, I had an alert from my Michigan tightwads group that
"IHOP will have it's Free Pancake Day on February 20. Here is a link w/info; it's from 7am-10pm and they give away a short stack to every customer."
http://www.ihop.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=176&Itemid=60

We never go to Ihop (ewww--sticky tables), but for free pancakes, we'll be there. Be sure to put it on your calendar, and maybe we'll organize a time and place to meet y'all there for dinner on us...well, we'll pick up the short stack (any maybe smuggle in some Starbucks?), but you've gotta pay for your own sausage or bacon.

Oooh--curiosity poll! Sausage patties, links, bacon, or canadian bacon/breakfast ham?

Dan is 30!

Happy 30th Dan!New decade = New "Do" (I think he is looking very "McSteamy")

Liam and Elli dressed in their finest for the big occasion
Liam helped me bake the cake for Dan's ice cream b-day cakeGood thing I had help!
The finished product--(layers bottom to top: choc cake, peanut butter, Moose Tracks ice cream, peanut butter, choc cake, frosted with a mix of French vanilla ice cream and Cool Whip--topped with crushed Oreos and peanut butter crunchies) Yeah--it was GREAT!

Betty Crocker

Q: Why was Betty Crocker in the hospital?

A: Because somebody burned her buns.

I always crack up and giggle at that one. Kinda like the "say 'hi' to your knees" or "say 'boo' to a bee" jokes. But, back to the issue at hand.

I was IMing with Jean today about making my own refried beans from scratch asking her why I would even think of attempting this while trying to entertain three kids at the same time. Her answer was simple, "because you love to cook". And she's right.

The beans are about halfway done the process. And Liam and I just whipped up a chocolate cake. Not a "add 2 eggs, 1/2 cup oil, and 1 1/3 cups water to mix" kinda cake, I mean a hardcore from scratch good ol' fashioned kinda cake.

And I do love to cook. I've always wanted to go to culinary school, and I don't know what is keeping me from living my dream--this is the twenty-something-est century, durr! I do, however, have to finish my master's in management so that when I graduate from culinary school I can immediately own and open my own restaurant--it's a simple plan.

Back to my love of food prep, presentation, and the fellowship aspects of food. Fears: no one trusts a skinny cook (I'm not really in the category of "svelt" these days, but I'm not pleasantly plump either), it takes a lot of money and time, neither of which I have any of, neglecting my family for my own selfishness, how does this further the kingdom, training--would I go to school to learn to cook and be a collossal flop? Terrible at chopping? Have no palate? No creativity? Bad sense of timing? No artistic presentation skills? Not swear well enough to command respect in a kitchen? Owning, running, and cooking in a restaurant whenever I want to isn't really a family-friendly profession, or is it? Where does all the capital for all of this to happen come in? Is this really where I'm gifted, or just my most enjoyable hobby? What about all the other things I'm good at? Writing? People skillz? Business stuff? Teaching? Just looking dang good in a suit? Organization? Bossing people around*ahem* I mean delegation?

Well, the cake smells amazing. Hooray for a brother and sister-in-law who are missionaries to the Dominican Republic and import to us vanilla negra--it ROCKS!

whipping boy

You know those news casts where there is violent or sensitive material? This might be one of those posts. Get me into trouble or make you feel a little sick in your gut, you can stop now, you're warned.

After we got home from school today, Liam and Elli were eating some snacks and Addison was on her hands and knees in the middle of the floor just smiling and bouncing. Liam, with bowl in hand, sauntered over to Addison and kicked her in the gut. Not a little love tap, but a totally pre-meditated hearty kick to her midsection.

We have instituted using a paddle my mother gave me in my Christmas stocking (as I've been asking her a lot about discipline) as a safe means of punishment. Safe in that I don't spank in anger and heat of the moment--it takes a minute to get the paddle off the hook in the pantry and the recipient gets a few minutes of sitting in their room shaking in terror awaiting the punishment to come and hopefully learning a lesson?

This time, though, I could see the smoke coming out of my own nostrils as I got that paddle off the hook and flew to Liam's room almost arriving the same time he did. Something inside me flipped. I was no longer his mother, but a bystander who had witnessed an act of cruelty, and wanted to make sure that act did not go unpunished and send the statement that cruel and violent behavior (hah, like me and my paddle) will not be tolerated. After telling him that behavior is unacceptable and never to be seen again, he assumed the pose (pants at the ankles, bend forward and hands on knees) and proceeded to give him a whap. It was such a mighty stroke that I broke the handle on the paddle.

Flashback to my junior year of college. I am student teaching for 6th grade in a public school in Ohio. I watch out my classroom window as some younger students are at recess. I see a large boy corner a tiny little boy, pin him against the chain link fence and start beating him in the face with his meaty fist. The little boy is covering his head, crying, stuck and getting his nose mashed into his face. Other kids are standing around watching, and there's not an adult or teacher paying any kind of attention. If I just opened my window, I'd be able to yell. I grab my senior teacher's attention and explain the situation asking to break up the fight, but she tells me it's not my problem, there are adults on the playground, and to just keep teaching.

I obeyed. But I disagreed with her. I don't give a rip whose "job" it was, I witnessed injustice and wanted nothing more than to step in and break it up. I still feel sick remembering this incident. It is one of my greatest fears for my own children, that something like this would ever happen to them one day and no one would step in for them and they'd get beat to a pulp for no reason at all.

This summer Liam was in our driveway playing with an older, bigger friend and that friend pinned him on the concrete and was pretending to punch him in the face and whispering "I'm gonna kill you" with each punching gesture. I flipped out. Pulled the friend off Liam, yelled a lot too loudly that you NEVER pretend you are hurting or punching someone, especially in the face, and you don't EVER tell people you are going to kill them. I was shaking. I was scared. I felt like one of my worst fears was taking place right in front of my own eyes...or like a sick preview of what lies in Liam's future. Oh dear God, may this never be.

Today, I witnessed injustice in my own home by my own flesh and blood. And it still made my blood boil, and I did something about it.

Now, the rub lies in that as I type this I wonder should I have stepped outside my body and watched myself punish Liam the way I just did, would I have allowed it or gotten upset at myself-as-punisher and charge myself with violence, anger, cruelty? I don't think so. There is no call for outright cruelty the way he kicked a small, innocent baby who did not incite or deserve a mean kick to the belly. Although in the moment I didn't feel very loving towards Liam, I know I am punishing him because I love him enough not to allow him to make bad choices, turn my head, and let them get to the point that he starts antagonizing or even abusing property, animals, other people, or himself.

I feel bad that Liam's buns probably burned and smarted for a few minutes, but I hope that pain serves to teach him that meanness and cruelty will not be tolerated in my household or on my watch.

I know if I am in error on this one, my punishment will be worse than a sore behind, but I embrace and welcome correction if I am in the wrong and appreciate a Father who cares enough not to let me get out of hand and be less that He created me to be. One of those ways might be through friends with an objective viewpoint giving me feedback. So, gulp, what have you to say?

9 minutes of fast typing

So our internet has been out. Taking 3 kids to the library and even imagining trying to get on the computer is a joke--those kids would have all the books off the shelves, the water fountain stuck on and overflowing onto the carpet, all the CD's out of the cases and scratched before I could even type in my library card number to log on!

I tried to go to D&W, and their network was down. What the heck? I did enjoy listening to country on Dan's itunes while watching the "renewing ip address........limited or no connectivity" about 40 times before I realized--"hey, idiot--it's never gunna connect"!

So, I'm at Beaner's on a Friday night. I guzzled down a short, decaf, Mocha Mocha with coconut bought on Dan's gift card (thanks so much sweetie). It was mediocre at best compared to S'bux, but I enjoyed it because I was all by myself. Dan's probably at home gritting his teeth with the kids or else he's got 'em all in bed and is reading on the couch.

I just miss being a grown up. I feel like I was created for more than just momming, and guilty for having that feeling as it's such a privilege to be home with our kids--except that it frustrates me horrendously.

I'm searching for my meaning. My chapter. My place. My verb. Trying to get my bearings. Some days I have so much vim and vigor to tackle the task, and other days I just wanna melt into the (dirty, needs-to-be-vacuumed probably need a new one but can't afford it) carpet and evaporate.

It's these few moments spent by myself doing something I enjoy, something I'm good at, something grown up, something from start to finish that give me a little more gas in my tank (that and rice and beans for dinner...whew!) to hang in there. Man, being a mom is the hardest job EVER--I should be incredibly hire able after this experience, right?

I just teared up last night as Dan asked whether I had thought about going back to school or what I'd like to do...I just feel pretty empty, and like my only job in life for now (and probably for a looooong time) is to be the best dang mom to these kids and an incredibly strong support for Dan in his life and ministry. I'm not too comfortable in the duds yet, but I think I can find some sort of contentment here without completely losing my creativity and letting my ministry muscles atrophy too much.

Time's up....Beaners is closing.........

Ima Hippo Cr8

Well. Don't read the post directly below this one. It's totally been nullified and voidicated. I got TONS of GREAT stuff for Christmas and am SOOOO happy!

Let's just say we took 3 anemically packed pieces of luggage (one being a backpack) to Oklahoma and returned with 5 packed-to-bursting bags and duffels and a hat box. I had a BALL shopping with our Macy's gift cards--both on line and in person--sans kids mind you! Yee-haw!

Anne posted a "what did you get" and I loved reading through everyone's lists...so here's mine in a nutshell.

socks, mortar and pestle, cowgirl hat, Privo shoes, 5 pairs of pants, 1 sweater, 2 blazers, 6 blouses, 4 t-shirts, 2 tank tops, 1 skirt, a purse and a clutch, Calpholon 12" pan, 4 new white towels, Swatch watch, slippers, 3 serving trays, pearl necklace, Pottery Barn shelves, pineapple corer/peeler, books, lotions, bubble bath, throw blanket, chip clips, chap sticks, paper and sticky notes, Dominican vanilla, 2 lbs Bayard's chocolates, money, Macy's gift cards

I'm sure there's more I've forgotten, but that's the bulk of it...there's so much behind each of these that makes them more than just "things" to me, but it'd take forever for me to write and you'd lose interest in reading all the vignettes and poignant episodes and my flowery descriptions of the verbal interchanges and non-verbals that made each of these items so special to me this year, so I'll just leave your mouth gaping open at my burgeoning list (oh yeah, there is still Macy's gift card money to spend!)

simply

After the engorgement we felt after last Christmas, Dan and I committed to doing Christmas more simply this year. That meant coaching our families to tone down the amount and type of gifts, as well as challenging ourselves to restrain from going overboard and challenging ourselves to purchase our gifts with creativity rather than credit.

This summer we garage saled. We found fantastic gifts to tuck away for the kids for Christmas using the change in our wallets or ashtrays. 2 Blues Clues videos, Memory game, Color Train Game, vintage jigger, brand spanking new dart board--grand total $6. Liam will be getting a scooter for his birthday in May--$2 plus some new wheels and grips--$27--little pricey, but that's OK!

Dan parted with some of his beloved CD collection on e-bay and we used the money to purchase some really sentimental, special, and high quality gifts. A vintage Cabbage Patch doll for each of the girls from a collector who had never played with them, only displayed them in her home, and an authentic Burberry cap from London for Dan. Grand total for all three "big" presents--$7 after the credit from our earnings on e-bay. While in Saugatuk with Dan's parents this summer I picked out a mortar and pestle as my big gift-$18 paid in cash. I cannot wait to start boshing things up in it!

Dan and I also shopped clearance racks and aisles last spring and bought all of the gifts for our families--2 bracelets, 3 shrugs, a jewelry box, 2 sweatshirts, a sweater, a polo shirt, a baseball cap, 2 Bibles, slippers, and 3 baby toys, custom desk calendars, and lots of Starbucks! Out of pocket--around $75. That averages out to around $4 per person. I added up the total of the items at regular price, and everything came to $448. Yeah--whoa!

Not to mention we were DONE with Christmas shopping, had no shopping stress, and everything was paid for in advance. (We took all the presents to NJ with us at Thanksgiving, so no shipping $$!! YAY!)

We sent our parents specific lists of things we or the kids needed but were fun too--umbrellas, undies, socks, clothes, PJ's, educational games, books, and a few toys thrown in. But nothing even close to last year's bombardment of STUFFFFFFFFFFF!

Dan and I asked for Macy's gift cards so we could go on shopping sprees--we've already ordered new towels and a cooking pot, and the rest we'll use for a new pair of pants each, a new pair of sneakers for me, then we'll save the rest for things we might need throughout the year for our home or new clothes/shoes for the kids.

So this year we were able to simply focus on things that mattered because our peripheries (is this the right word Heather?) weren't so cluttered. We have had lots and lots of free time together as a family and been free of the fiscal burdens this time of year usually heaps on us, and we are reveling in all the literal and emotional space we have from all the stuff we do not have cluttering us up this Christmas.

I simply love it.

THE Scott's NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS EVE

THE Scott's NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS EVE
by Jennifer Scott

'Twas the night before Christmas Eve, and all day in our house

Two of three children were spreading crumbs for a mouse;

The stockings had been ripped off the mantel with flair,

It really is amazing that I still have a head of (golden wheat blond #137) hair;

The girls asleep in their cribs, Liam kept getting out of bed,

Needing to go potty, wash his hands, and get more books to be read;

I was in my PJ’s, Dan had his computer on his lap,

Barely awake, soooo tired and longing for a nap,

When across the street we heard a clang and clatter,

And peeked through the blinds to see if anything was the matter.

Encore as a puppy would’ve been there in a flash,

But he’s getting a little slower, there’s pause (“paws” too cheesy?) in his dash.

The moon couldn’t be seen through the rain, we had no snow

Making murky and muddy all the ground below,

When, what to my swollen, puffy, crusty, sleep-deprived eyes should appear,

But the neighbor’s house adorned with three country-ish Christmas trees, two life-sized Toyland torch candles, a spiral tree, some wreaths, a Christmas flag, a blinking candy cane, and a lone reindeer,

With a roll of my eyes, I shut the blinds quick!

I hate tacky decorations. They just make me sick.

I laughed when I saw them, in spite of THEM, not of myself;

And looked at our tastefully decorated living room shelf.

I sighed a big sigh and just shook my head,

And knew that within my own house there was no tackiness to dread;

I shook it off and started doing some pre-Christmas work,

Filled stockings, sorted presents, and hung a curtain so Liam couldn’t lurk,

But I was foiled, Liam got me, “need a tissue for my nose”,

And like a rocket off a launch from the couch Dan arose ;

He sprang to hallway, blocked Liam’s’ view, got a tissue

And marched him back to his room saying “good night, we love you, we’ll miss you”.

The casserole’s made, OJ stirred, presents sorted just right

"I’m tired, it’s 8:52, and I’m going nite-night."

What we did today

Pigtails






















and a craft where we traced our hands and made mittens!

Tickled pink

A few weeks ago we were playing some Wiggles games online with Liam and Elli when Dan read me a news flash that Greg, the Yellow Wiggle, was leaving the group due to health problems. I was kinda bummed. You see, I thought Greg was the name of the (hot) Blue Wiggle--but his name is Anthony.

Thankfully the Wiggles has a Progression Plan in place and had an understudy already trained and ready to step in at a moment's notice. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to stomach watching the new Wiggles anymore, but it turns out (according to the picture here) that it was just a case of mistaken identity and I'll give the new Wiggle, Sam, a chance. Although I can already tell from this picture that he's not hot.

Homemummery

I've been feeling a little frustrated at my current station in life. That of being a stay-at-home mom. While snatching a shower this morning, I was thinking it might do my brain some good to try my hand at some poetry writing. I'm not all that creative, so I'd have to mimic someone else's genius.

The first poem that came to mind was "Huswifery". I remembered the title from high school AP English class, but had no idea what the poem was about. Thinking it would be about all the toils and labors of a woman taking care of the home, I thought I'd do a "spoof" and call mine something along the lines of "homemummery".

But when I looked up the poem, I was in for quite a surprise. And a boot to the backside. This is what I needed to be reminded of today. And I cannot spoof it, only hope to mimic it with my life.

Huswifery

by Edward Taylor

Make me, O Lord, thy Spinning Wheele compleat;
Thy Holy Worde my Distaff make for mee.
Make mine Affections thy Swift Flyers neate,
And make my Soule thy holy Spoole to bee.
My Conversation make to be thy Reele,
And reele the yarn thereon spun of thy Wheele.

Make me thy Loome then, knit therein this Twine:
And make thy Holy Spirit, Lord, winde quills:
Then weave the Web thyselfe. The yarn is fine.
Thine Ordinances make my Fulling Mills.
Then dy the same in Heavenly Colours Choice,
All pinkt with Varnish't Flowers of Paradise.

Then cloath therewith mine Understanding, Will,
Affections, Judgment, Conscience, Memory;
My Words and Actions, that their shine may fill
My wayes with glory and thee glorify.
Then mine apparell shall display before yee
That I am Cloathd in Holy robes for glory.

Chapped

Ever have chapped lips where there's a little flap of skin that's all dried out and bugging you and you want to bite it between your teeth and rip it off but you know if you do it'll hurt and be raw and bug you even more? Ohhhhhh.....I just ripped it off...why did I do that?

rant and rave

I was going to post a mega Scrooge-fest of a list of horrible things in my day today, but then realized that I also need to balance out my bitching with at least an attempt to find the bright side of life. So, for every bad thing I list, I need to list a good thing as well. That way you don't all think I'm a hyper-critical, negatory, cynical, complaining-all-the-time, Debbie Downer.
RANT

I'm sick of the smell of sick

My kids are whining incessantly

There is diahrreah on the carpet

I stayed awake all night thinking I was hearing a child getting sick

If I have to give one more bath I think I'm going to scream

My hands are constantly wet and I HATE being wet

Liam's been sick and can't go to school today

I don't have any patience today

I have a list that just keeps getting bigger and bigger and it's frustrating

Elli & Addi wake each other up, so no one is rested and all are cranky

Ugly free recliner needs to be steam cleaned & moved out of garage

We're being responsible and paying off the deck with Christmas money

I'm being plagued with discontented thoughts right now and not sure why

I'm stressing about money (that's pretty much all the time)

We still have leaves in our backyard from fall cleanup we didn't finish

RAVE

My parents bought us a fantastic heavy duty washing machine that is handling all the sick

Elmo is singing songs about potties on the TV

I own a steam cleaner--it's being put to use

The sun is out today-AGAIN

My kids enjoy bathing and bubbles

I will be getting a massage at PPD group tonight

There is less than a week 'til Christmas

Dan and I haven't gotten sick…yet

Our needs are more than met

We got an ugly but FREE recliner on freecycle

Our windshield deductible was $50 less than we expected

Our families have been extremely generous to us at Christmas

I'm going to be with my family soon

My husband thinks our kids are great

I've lost 5 pounds

You know that sour feeling you have in your stomach before you get sick. That's kinda what I had before making this list. I just had to get it all out so I could feel better and get on with life. Sorry you had to field my spew.

It's a good thing...I think?

So I couldn't sleep last night. While trying to not think about why I wasn't falling back to sleep, my mind was whirling with this thought that is kinda in response to a sentence Heather wrote on her blog a week or so ago.

My midnight thought:

If you are a believer and doing good things without consciously owning or ascribing them to the cause of Christ, are they not actually good works? As in, if you aren't thinking "I want to bring glory to God" or "Jesus would do this" as you performed fruit-of-the-spirit-like things, are they not really good works (like you don't get credit with God or men, and your faith is possibly dead), or are they just good actions that you've been trained to perform and negated if they are done without actually thinking of them as Godly actions? I don't know if I explained this well, but maybe someone will get what I am trying to say.

Heather's "One Sentence" that started this thought process:

"The death of a faith is not the instant action of the rebellion but the slow, painful death of inaction."

Thursday night menu

Come enjoy a personal pizza
and make-your-own salad bar

BYO soda--we'll have water and Phat B's "sweet tea"

dessert du jour
Starbucks and TastyCakes

5-7pm

Beleaguered

All day this word has been running through my head. After tucking my children into bed, I hastened to look it up to make sure it was an accurate descriptor for my state of mind today.

Definition of beleaguered:
adjective
having so many difficulties that you feel as if you are being attacked from every direction

I don't know why I've been feeling this way today. I don't know why I feel so attacked. There have been myriad instances where I've felt quite ready to raise the white flag, to rip off my "Kiss the cook" apron and hop in my mommy mini van, squinch my eyes shut tight and just drive away to outrun whatever it is that is beleaguering me today.

Listening to Sara McLachlan's "River" off of her Wintersong album hasn't helped this morose need-for-escapism feeling, either. Yet it seems to capture what I'm thinking and feeling today, and I've relished the artful fusion of music and lyricism that can take an emotion that feels as scratchy as a steel wool sweater on bare naked skin and make it feel like thick, warm melted cacao oozing over every prickly barb that is rasping away at my weary mind. I hope tomorrow has a better adjective than today did.

Lyrics to Sarah Mclachlan River

It’s coming on Christmas
They’re cutting down trees
They’re putting up reindeer singing songs of joy and peace

Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on

But it don’t snow here
It stays pretty green
I’m going to make a lot of money
And then I’m going to quit this crazy scene

Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I wish I had a river so long
Teach my feet to fly high

Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on

I made my baby cry
I tried hard to help me
No it wouldn’t be at ease
[ these lyrics found on http://www.completealbumlyrics.com ]
But it left me so naughty made me weak in the knees

Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on

But I’m so hard to handle
I’m selfish and I’m sad
Now I gone and lost the best baby that I’ve ever had

Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on

Oh I wish I had a river so long
I would teach my feet to fly highhh
Oh I wish I had a river
That I could skate away on

I made my baby say goodbye
It’s coming on Christmas
They’re cutting down trees
They’re putting up reindeer singing songs of joy and peace
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on

career guicance

Dan and I were talking last night about me going back to work. He said "what would you do?". For someone who usually has all the answers, or is good at making them up, I was dumbfounded. I have no idea.

So I am turning to you for career advice. What do you think would be a good "fit" for me--something I would enjoy and utilize my skillz.

If you can't think of anything, just take the opportunity to openly compliment me on all the zillions of things I am really good at--100 words minimum, please!

breakfast

breakfast this past week has consisted of a tepid tap water in whoever's cup is left on the counter with a handful of vitamins and Zoloft generics.

the scale and my stomach have been letting me know that this diet just won't do, especially as I either eat lunch around 2:30pm or not at all then eat nonstop in the evenings.

so this morning I downed said vitamins and mood-enhancing meds with a Danactive yogurt drink. Cranberry Raspberry--so yummy. And so tiny it's like a shot. A healthy shot.

I'll keep ya posted.

a penny for your thoughts

Penny was on the verge of breakdown she was so tired. She worked day and night and was at the beck and call of the family she had been hired to cook, keep house, and nanny for. Though never alone, Penny was lonely. On her night off, she decided to attend a local poetry reading club in hopes that she might meet other people with whom she had something in common and make some new friends.

After a month of attending and enjoying the group immensely, it was time for the group to take a break for the holidays. The leader of the group got paid a generous sum for giving his time to organize the group, research the best literature, and talentedly share the beautiful lyrics with the group.

After the last meeting, Penny was talking to a newfound friend. While half-listening to this friend, she saw the leader standing outside the doorway of the room talking to a volunteer who had come almost every week to set up chairs for the group to sit in while listening to the readings. Out of the corner of her eye, Penny watched the leader covertly hand the young volunteer the entirety of his night’s commission. The volunteer was stunned and stammered that he didn’t need it and hadn’t expected to be paid for setting up the chairs. But the leader gently refused to take it back and quietly told the volunteer to use it to buy Christmas presents before walking away.

Penny can hardly remember the power of the poetry that had so moved her at that last meeting, but through the ensuing weeks that singular act of secret generosity, which no one had been meant to observe, has repeatedly played out over and over again in her head.

dangling the key to my diary

I saw something that wasn’t meant to be seen. I’ve only told one person about what I saw, but I think maybe I should tell some other people. But I’m not really sure what will come of my telling it. So I’m still pondering whether or not to keep on keeping it to myself. I just thought that maybe putting the possibility out there of telling might help assuage my feelings of needing to tell others so I could continue to keep this one to myself.

Losing my -my

It's a stark moment of realization that time is fleeting even when you are in and aware of the moment when time is blowing by you like a Mary Poppins-esque gust of wind.

Elli has stopped calling me mommy and just calls me mom. I'm not sure exactly when or why, but I noticed it two days ago. I thought maybe she just did it once to abbreviate my name, but I took note that all day it was only "mom".

A piece of me is excited. She's growing up. A piece of me is sad. She's growing up.