Absolute Poppycock

Winter

2012-02-07T20:47:55Z

This winter has been unbelievably mild. Granted, it’s not like we have harsh winters here anyway, but even by our standards, we’ve had unseasonably warm weather. Right now, I’m sitting on the couch with the doors open and the sun streaming through the windows. We’ve had a day or two of sub-sixty degree weather, but for the most part, the temp has hovered around seventy. The girls seem to find peace and comfort at the beach just like I do, so we’ve spent a lot of time walking the shore and playing in the water over the last couple of months. (They play in the water a lot more than I do…even with seventy degree weather, the water still feels chilly to me!)

After piano lessons a couple of weeks ago, we headed down to the pass and played on the rocks. This is one of their favorite places to go. I enjoy it……the beach feels massive here because there’s water on both sides. It makes me feel really small and insignificant which I firmly believe is good for your soul. Because if you feel small and insignificant, how can your problems be anything but small? This time of year, the beach is pretty much deserted, a true secret paradise.

Enough talking…here are the pictures form our outing…I think we’ll be heading out again very soon!

Looking west across the pass…

Cool Things We’ve Done…Blueberry Buttermilk Breakfast Bake

2012-02-05T19:10:55Z

Here’s another Pinterest recipe that we tried. The original recipe is from Alexandra’s Kitchen (link). I pinned it a few weeks ago and finally, this week I managed to pick up a lemon and some blueberries from Publix. I am the world’s worst about forgetting one crucial ingredient for a recipe and then becoming completely frustrated and swearing I’m never, ever, ever going to make anything with more than two ingredients again. Anyway, Gracie woke up early this morning and she helped me whip this up and get it the oven. This was certainly a kid friendly recipe. Gracie even enjoyed zesting the lemon but her favorite part was tossing the blueberries with the flour – I suggest if you’re doing this with children to put the blueberries and flour in a bowl and cover it with some kind of plastic wrap and then let the child toss to cover. ‘Cause, otherwise, you might or might not end up with blueberries and flour all over the floor. On second thought, if you’re doing this with children or you’re clumsier than the average person (read, me), you might want to do that.

As usual, we were running late for church this morning. Anyone surprised? I pulled this out of the oven just as we were rushing out the door and left it on the stovetop to cool while we were gone. When we got back, I cut into it, took one bite and declared to to Steve that I am never making blueberry muffins again. never. ever. ever (or until I don’t have the ingredients for this on hand and am stuck making the more instantaneously gratifying but less satisfying Duncan Hines box method)

I truly think the buttermilk makes this recipe. I love cooking with buttermilk…the tartness just takes the sweetness of recipes like this to an amazing level. On a completely different note, I do not like to drink buttermilk. My grandfather, who drinks it like water, had a glass on the table and I picked it up and took a swig thinking it was something else, and I almost choked. That’s another story for another time. Let’s just say that some things that I bake with are not good on their own…I’ll just put shortening and buttermilk on that list for now.

Okay, enough chitter chatter. Here’s the recipe:

The Stuff You Need:

½ cup unsalted butter
1 tsp. lemon zest
1/2 tsp. pure lemon extract
1 cup sugar with 2 tablespoons reserved
1 egg
1 tsp. vanilla
2 cups flour
2 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. kosher salt
1 pint fresh blueberries
½ cup buttermilk

The Things You Need To Do:

1. Preheat the oven to 350ºF. Cream together butter, lemon zest, lemon extract, and all but the reserved sugar until light and fluffy.
2. Add the egg and vanilla and beat until combined.
3. Toss the blueberries with ¼ cup of the flour (use the method I talked about above unless you want blueberries all over your floor!)
4. Stir together the rest of the flour, the baking powder and the salt.
5. Add the flour mixture to the batter a little at a time, alternating with the buttermilk.
6. Fold in the blueberries.
7. Grease a 9-inch square baking pan with unsalted butter. Spread batter into pan. Sprinkle batter with remaining two tablespoons of sugar. Bake for 40-45 minutes.
8. Let it cool before serving (I cooled mine for about an hour and it was perfect, but I don't know if I'd have had that much discipline if we'd actually been in the house while it was cooling!)

Enjoy!

The only thing that would have made this more delicious would have been if I’d used some blueberries straight from my grandfather’s farm, but I’ll have to wait until early summer for that.

Just look at that yumminess!

Technorati Tags: Blueberry Buttermilk Breakfast Cake,cool pinterest things we've done

Mercedes, Love, and Mickey Mouse

2012-02-05T13:29:01Z

I love this girl. so much. She is funny and goofy and stubborn and kind and sweet. She is closest in age of all the cousins to Gracie and probably gets her more than anyone. They fight light cats in a bathtub sometimes, but I’ve seen Emmie be kind to Gracie when Gracie needs it if even she doesn’t deserve kindness. Emmie’s laugh is contagious. And, she loves my homemade projects more than anyone else in the entire world.

I made these shirt for the girls for Christmas for our upcoming Disney trip. Peace, Love, and Mickey Mouse just seemed like a good theme for our visit (what? You don’t have themes for your trips?). When Emmie opened her box she smiled and said thank you. Even though it was obvious they all four liked their matching shirts, none of the girls were exactly dancing around the room. They were shirts after all, not American Girl doll clothes or horse accessories. My sister quietly said to Emmie, “Did you know that’s an Aunt Daffy shirt?” and Emmie’s face lit up. “You made it?” she asked and the shirt, in her mind, was instantly elevated to something else entirely. I’ve made her t-shirts using whatever is my craft medium of the time since she was a little bitty girl. She is sometimes the reason I keep crafting, just to see that smile on her face when I give her an Aunt Daffy shirt. Yep, I love that girl.

When the girls got dressed that morning, they looked so cute! I loved how Emmie added her Happy Birthday pin over the peace sign on her shirt. It looked great! I was particularly worried that morning because Abigail’s temperature was back up really high again and she just looked very sick. Steve decided to take her to the urgent care clinic in Orlando (her second visit in four days). I was more than a little stressed, but I still noticed how cute the girls looked in their shirts.

It wasn’t until later in the afternoon, after Abigail returned from the doctor with a new antibiotic and a confirmation that nothing was seriously wrong, that I learned the secret of the pin over the peace sign on Emmie’s shirt. Do you see it in the picture? Yep! You see it. I put the peace sign upside down on her shirt. Emmie’s shirt said Mercedes. Love. Mickey Mouse. She had put the birthday pin on over the Mercedes sign because she knew I was worried about Abigail and she didn’t want me to be upset about her messed up shirt. See? Even my nine-year-old niece knows I have a perfectionist streak! Once she took the pin off, I just laughed and laughed and laughed some more. I have issues with peace signs all the time. I can never, ever, remember if the lines point up or down. But, really, the peace sign isn’t the important symbol on this shirt. And neither is the mouse ear symbol. The important symbol on all their shirts is the heart. I am so blessed to love and be loved by all four of these girls. Little girls who love me enough to proudly wear a Mercedes, Love, and Mickey Mouse shirt.

I know why the Disney bird sings

2012-02-03T03:20:42Z

I am pretty sure I am the only person in the entire history of the universe who dreads going to Disney World. I know I am an abomination, but I just can’t help it.

We’d been planning a trip to Orlando with my sister and her family for almost two years. One thing or another kept getting in the way, but finally, finally, we all got our acts together and made the trek down to the Mecca of commercialism in January.

I was thrilled to be taking a vacation and over the moon about getting to spend some time with my sister and her family. But, honestly, I was not excited about Disney. I’m not even sure I can tell you why.

Part of me despises the whole “Oh, you have to take your children to Disney because it is the most magical, beautiful place on Earth.” People, I’ve watched the sun come up over the Irish countryside and I’ve climbed to the top of El Castillo at Chichen Itza. I have felt the mist from the English Channel brush my face on the ferry between Dover and Calais. You can’t convince me that the slightly freakish It’s A Small World puppets can compete with any of that.

Then there’s the silly argument that went on in my head debating the idea of taking Gracie, who hates crowds, loud noises, feeling out of control to a place full of tons of people, lot of strange noises where she’s at the mercy of snaking lines (albeit beautifully designed snaking lines).

Honestly, though, I think what I was dreading most was failing. Something about a trip to Disney just sets you up with so many expectations. And I just knew that the trip couldn’t possibly live up to everyone’s expectations. Steve, who was looking forward to having fun with his girls and relaxing and enjoying family time. Abigail who was so excited about going to Cinderella’s castle that she could not contain herself for a month before we left. Gracie who wanted to visit every single country at Epcot. And me. I ‘m not sure what I expected. I think mostly I expected to be let down. Turns out, not a single one of our expectations were met. Steve didn’t get to spend much time relaxing at all. Gracie didn’t visit a single country and Epcot. Abigail didn’t get to go inside Cinderella’s castle because she was sick and by the time she felt well enough to visit the Magic Kingdom, the castle was closed. And, me, well I wasn’t let down. Steve may not have relaxed, but he did ride the teacups with his girls and laughed until he could barely talk. Gracie didn’t visit any country in Epcot, but she got over her fear and rode the Kali River Rapids at Animal Kingdom at least ten times. Abigail didn’t see the castle but she discovered a passion for saving endangered animals after rescuing a baby elephant from poachers on the Safari trip.

While we were waiting for the bus our first day in Orlando, I spied this little bird hopping around as if he didn’t have a care in the world. As I watched him flit from one spot of the bus stop to another, looking for whatever crumbs anyone may have dropped, I started to relax and let the joy of being with my family wash over me. Disney may not be the most beautiful, magical place in the world, but it certainly does have a magic all its own and who was I to resist.

What once was lost now is found

2012-02-02T13:03:51Z

It’s a dreary first day of February here…the rain has been steadily tap, tap, tapping on the roof for hours. It’s not cold; it’s not hot; it’s just miserable. But, there’s a pot of curried pumpkin soup on the stove (yum) and Valentine’s Puppy Chow cooling on sheets of wax paper in the kitchen. Abigail and I are taking a sick day from church tonight (she’s running a slight fever and I’ve pulled my back out yet again). As gray as the day is though, I am so glad that it’s February. I am glad to say goodbye to January.

The month certainly wasn’t without its high points. We took our first trip to Disney with the added bonus of going with my sister and her family. Gracie celebrated her 8th birthday in grand style. We celebrated Chinese New Year and Gracie brought home a good report card. We went to the beach several times and had a wonderful dinner at my favorite restaurant with some dear friends. Not much to complain about.

Still, as delightful as parts of January were, there were still parts that tried my very patience. Like Monday morning. I woke up and, as I always do, booted up my server so I could do some database work. Or at least I tried to boot the server. Two seconds after I pushed the power button, a message flashed on the black screen: “No boot device available.” Sigh. Unfortunately, missing boot drives are bad news. Fortunately, we live in an amazing time, particularly for wannabe computer repair techs with access to Google. I found a cool little universal drive adapter that lets you pull out a hard drive and hook it up to a USB port. I ordered it from Amazon and it arrived on Tuesday. I pulled both drives out of the dead server and tested them. Luckily, one of the drives was just fine. Unfortunately, the other one still wasn’t recognized. I am not the best at backing up my data. I know, I know, believe me I know. Most of my data is backed up in different locations, but it’s not exactly systematic and there was information on that drive that I really would have liked to have back, mostly pictures of the girls. So, yesterday, I went on a quest and after tons of on-line searching and talking with Seagate (the manufacturer of the drive), I was able to restore the partition on the drive and get the data back. Yay! Was it worth all that trouble? I’d say definitely. I found a slew of pictures that I’d forgotten all about. Looking through the folders on the drive last night was taking a wonderful walk through my memories of the last few years. Sometimes, losing things is the best way to find them again.

This picture is Gracie a couple of weeks before she started kindergarten. I remember the simplicity of that summer…months without a schedule…the time before school and all its scheduling started, the summer before my father got sick. It was a blissful time and it felt good last night to pull this picture up and remember it and to remind myself that life is not always as hectic as it feels now.

King Cake

2012-01-14T21:02:34Z

Mardi Gras season is in full swing! Fat Tuesday is on February 21st this year and I’m sure I’ll take the girls to at least one parade. Here’s a little known fact about me: I was born in New Orleans and lived there until I was four. For years, I believed that I was in an actual Mardi Gras parade. I distinctly remember walking up and down the streets of downtown New Orleans. Turns out, what I actually remembered was a parade at my preschool where we marched around the building. Oh well. I do remember my sister finding the baby in the king cake when she was two and thinking it was a huge deal and she was going to have good luck for life or possibly get some amazing present.

For the last few years, I’ve made my dad’s jambalaya on Fat Tuesday and we’ve had some kind of King Cake for dessert. I’ve tried cakes from the bakery, cakes from mixes, and last year, I tried one from scratch. It turned out really, really good. The cake part was the perfect texture and I really liked the filling. (Steve wasn’t too big a fan of the filling, so this year I might try a different type)

I let Abigail and her friend help me make it and they had a great time. I think some of the best childhood memories are made in the kitchen. I used to love my Daddy make homemade pasta and string it up across the kitchen to dry.

Here’s the recipe that I used (modified slightly from Taste of Home):

Ingredients

1 package of active dry yeast

1/2 cup warm milk

1/3 cup butter-flavored shortening

1/3 cup sugar

1 teaspoon salt

1 egg

4 cups all-purpose flour

1 1/2 cans of almond cake and pastry filling

For the glaze:

3 cups of powdered sugar

1/2 teaspoon almond extract

3 to 4 tablespoons water

Purple, green and gold sugar for decorating – to make the sugars, I just used white sparkling sugar and a little food coloring to make the colors I wanted. Finding purple, green, and gold sugar was difficult around here for some reason!

Directions

In a large bowl, dissolve yeast in warm water. Add the milk, shortening, sugar, salt, egg and 2 cups of the flour. Beat on medium speed until smooth. Stir in enough remaining flour to form a soft dough (dough will be sticky).

Turn onto a floured surface; knead until smooth (about 6 minutes). Place in a greased bowl, turning once to grease top. Cover and let rise in a warm place until doubled, about 1 hour.

Punch dough down. Turn onto a lightly floured surface; divide in half. Roll one portion into a 16-in. x 10-in. rectangle. Spread almond filling to within 1/2 in. of edges. Roll up jelly-roll style, starting with a long side; pinch seam to seal. Place seam side down on a greased baking sheet; pinch ends together to form a ring. Repeat with remaining dough and filling. Cover and let rise until doubled, about 1 hour.

Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes or until golden brown. Cool on a wire rack. For glaze, combine the confectioners' sugar, vanilla and enough water to achieve desired consistency. Spread over cooled cakes. Sprinkle with colored sugars.

Cool Things We’ve Done–Valentine’s Day

2012-01-14T17:11:32Z

So, I find all these awesome things on Pinterest and on craft and food blogs that I read and in magazines at the check-out line in Publix. I don’t try all of them (really, I’d have to be ten people with five lifetimes each to be able to complete even of 1/3 of the things I’d like to try). But, the girls and I do try new things each month. Sometimes, they turn out wonderfully and sometimes, well not so much (see these). I thought I’d start posting my results with our experiments, mostly so you can see what happens when real people attempt some of the crafts/recipes that are all over the web and in magazines.

Last year, the girls and I made their school Valentines. I can’t tell you how much fun we had making them and I got the added bonus of having willing participants for a mini photo session so we could get the pictures for Gracie’s cards.

I found the idea for Abigail’s cards at Family Fun. They were fairly straightforward. The hardest part was finding the shovels. I found them at Giant Party Store. They turned out cute and Abigail enjoyed helping to make them.

I found the idea for Gracie’s cards here. I showed them to Gracie and she was so excited to try them. So, after ballet one day, I changed the girls into their heart shirts and we tried to get just the right picture at the right angle. The trick is to make sure that your little valentine is holding her hand out far enough that you get the illusion of depth and also make sure that her hand is not in front of her face. Luckily, we got this one:

Then, it was just a matter of printing them out at 4X6 and cutting a slit for the the sucker to go through. We mounted them on card stock to give them a little more stability. This was our end result.

Gracie was thrilled to take those cards into school. I couldn’t have been happier with the way they turned out. Sometimes, trying new things ends up with great results! I’m not sure what we’re going to do this year for Valentines. I think it will be hard to top last year’s, but I have a couple of ideas that might work!

Slowly

2012-01-04T03:13:23Z

“Hurry!” I say to them as we’re rushing out the door for anything you choose: school, scouts, church, piano, fun at the park. “Please.Come.On!” I insist, louder, my voice trilling up to something akin to a screech. “NOW!” and I have blown past screeching to unadulterated yelling. They hurry now, realizing that I am mad. Their faces show the dread of what follows my yelling; my temper is not pretty, particularly when I feel impatience rising up in me, vile and ugly. I do not like this me, angry and hurried, harried and haggard. I long to move slower. I keep thinking, “Ten minutes. If there were just ten extra minutes, we would be on time. all day. Why are we always late? Why are we always rushing?” I know the answer, know it like I know the freckles sprinkled across Abigail’s nose and the shape of the café au lait spot on Gracie’s calf. We are always rushing not because we need ten more minutes. We are rushing because I haven’t engaged with the girls until seconds before it’s time to leave. I tell them, “Get your shoes! Brush your hair! Don’t forget your teeth!” I bark these orders absent-mindedly while I answer one more email, type one more line of code, click one more link on Pinterest, like one more post on Facebook. And then I am surprised when I finally look up, pay attention to something other than myself, and they, these unfocused girls of mine, have done nothing that I have asked. I am mad at them for not listening I tell myself. Truthfully, the one who deserves my anger is me. We don’t need ten more minutes. They, we, me need ten minutes of undivided attention. They, we, me need to admit to me, us, the universe that multi-tasking is an oxymoron, something that would be more aptly titled do-nothing-well-and-everything-piss-poorly-tasking.

I flirt with an idea that is dancing around in the far corners of my brain, almost out of reach. What if I do one thing at a time and do it well? What if I stand with my daughters while they brush their teeth, help them, nurture them. Hello! Mother them. What if Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance could translate to Zen and the Art of Getting My Daughters Out the Door on Time. What if? What if? What if? No, I scoff at myself…I don’t have time to do that. I .don’t.have.time. A whisper of a conversation I had with an acquaintance tickles my memory. “How do you do everything?” she asks and I answer, in a moment of rare honesty. “I do lots of things, but I don’t do anything well.” I.don’t.have.time.

Maybe, just maybe I do have time. Time. Time to do things slowly. separately. well. Maybe if I have time I will have time. Maybe, just maybe I think to myself, it would be better to do less, but do it better. Maybe my Facebook page will lay dormant; maybe my Pinterest boards will be empty of the coolest craft that I never have time to do. Maybe, though, we’ll get out the door on time for anything and everything. And maybe the me, the hurried and harried, angry and haggard me that I do not like, maybe there won’t be any time left for her.

I stand with my girls, zipping them up in their puffy winter coats adorned with purple hearts and pink Peace signs. We are not late and I do not use words profane when the zippers get stuck in the nylon. I help Gracie with her backpack and Abigail with her shoes and when we can’t find one of her white tennis shoes, I do not feel my heart race and color flood my face; instead, I shrug and pull out the scruffy black Mary Jane’s that she’d rather wear anyway. I do not scream; I do not yell. We have time. Simple, beautiful, joyful time. As we count our God presents on the cold drive to school, I do not feel stressed. I chatter along with them as they shout out the presents God gave them today. “Church!” "The community center!” “Mrs. Murphy!” “Mommy!” “Abigail!” “Gracie!” “Hot Chocolate on a cold morning!” At the top of my list of God’s presents today is time, time enough to go slowly. I do have time.

Pony Power

2011-12-27T13:25:14Z

One of the things that has warmed my heart as Abigail has grown is her increasing love of her friends. She has always, always been a caring child, but now she’s reached the age where she’s learning to treasure her friendships. Kayla is one of her very best friends. They have known each other for years (their big sisters are the best of friends, too!) and it’s so much fun to watch them play and giggle together. Kayla had her birthday party last weekend and Abigail declared it to be the perfect party – good friends and pony rides – what more could you ask for?

When Abigail and I were talking about the party, she told me that she and Kayla have made up a game that they play on the playground at preschool. It’s called “Pony Power”. She didn’t share the details with me, but I can only imagine the two of them running around, playing their own special game. It makes me smile! I hope the two of them will be dear friends for years to come!

Abigail has decided that she wants a pony party for her next birthday. I think there were several little girls at the party who said the same thing! We’ll have to see what Daddy says about that next year!

The Morning After

2011-12-26T18:57:12Z

Even when I was a little girl, I was filled with both dread and excitement on Christmas Eve. Of course, I was excited for Santa to come and for all the joy of the day. But, I also didn’t want it all to end…the beauty of the season, the magic of the day, the excitement of looking forward to something. This feeling has lessened some over the years – I have so much to look forward to in January now – namely, Gracie’s birthday. As an adult I try to find the excitement and beauty in, if not every day, at least every season. Still, December 26th is generally not my favorite day of the year!

This year, I am truly enjoying the morning after. I have the day off from work (like really off – the office is closed, the bank is closed, everything is closed), my sister and her family are arriving this evening, and the girls and I just hanging out, watching TV and playing with the mountain of toys they received yesterday from Santa. I can’t remember the last time we felt this unencumbered and I must say, I’m loving it. We could certainly use more days like this!

Overall, our Christmas season was wonderful. There were some hiccups along the way, but they were small. I didn’t get to do as many things as I wanted – we still have boatloads of cookie-making supplies and boxes full of things to use to make Christmas crafts. We’ll get to what we get to and the craft supplies will certainly keep. We were able to spend the Christmas season together and isn’t that what really matters? We did manage to have a fantastic time with our Elf on the Shelf, Angelina Selena. We had such a good time with her that Gracie even cried when she had to go back to the North Pole on Christmas Eve. I’ll have to share some pictures of her antics with you soon – she brought many smiles to all of us this year.

I enjoyed spending a quiet Christmas Day with Steve and the girls. It wasn’t until about 11:00 a.m. that I realized that the girls didn’t get a single electronic toy. So, the day was spent with a lot of imaginative play. Gracie said her favorite gift was a wooden bluebird that Santa carved just for her (yes, that’s a blog post in itself). Abigail spent most of the day playing with the horse Santa brought for her doll. Gracie had a dice Skip-Bo game in her stocking; I can’t tell you how much fun we all had playing that.

My family came over for dinner – it was a good combination of old favorites and new treats. All in all, it was a great day.

I hope you all had a wonderful, wonderful Christmas full of blessings, smiles, and lots of hugs!

The Joy Project…or why I want to bang my head against a wall repeatedly

2011-12-03T04:42:47Z

Last night, about 8:30, I scowled at the clock. The day had slipped away me from again, lost in an endless array of code that didn’t work the way it should and therefore took twice as long as necessary to write, unexpected doctors’ visits, phone calls with my sister that were interrupted by my screaming children. The insanity was peppered with a few, less hectic moments…time spent recording a book for Steve to take on his trip. Although, honestly, that wasn’t all sunshine and roses…you can hear Abigail whining in the background of at least two of the pages that Gracie is reading. Dinner was supposed to be the slow-roasted peppered beef sandwiches that Steve loves so much, but instead turned into a later than usual meal of chicken patties. The house was in chaos, the victim of the girls having too much unsupervised time (see code that takes too long to write). By 8:30, I wanted to drift off to sleep. But, it was December 1st. And I had made a promise to myself and to the girls. This year we are going to do an Advent activity each day. Yeah, if there’s a Advent slacker club, I’m the president. But, I got my act together, gathered my Bible and the craft supplies we needed and sat down with the girls. I’m using the eBook Truth in the Tinsel this year – it looks like it’s going to be fantastic and I like that so much of it is planned out for me, right down to the supplies you need for the crafts.

It was a wonderful, moving, joy-filled time, learning about Jesus and creating a sweet little craft. Yeah, right. Maybe your Advent celebration time goes like that. Ours was an unmitigated disaster. I was tired, impatient, and annoyed. Gracie does not do well with crafts late at night. She gets frustrated with scissors and glue even when she’s well-rested and happy, but night-time crafting sends her over the age. By the time she’d made two cuts with her blunt-edged scissors, she was perilously close to losing it. Abigail said to her, “Gracie, don’t worry about what it looks like – just have fun!” (Love that girl!) Gracie said, “I’m about to lose my temper with all this having fun!” That when I committed the cardinal sin; I laughed. Loudly. At Gracie. At least, that’s how she felt. I tried to explain why I was laughing to her, but the damage was already done. She dissolved into a puddle of tears and angry kicks. It was not pretty. Abigail finished her ornament while Gracie screamed in her bedroom as tears from my eyes splattered on the red and orange tissue paper we were using to make the “flame” for our candle ornaments. Gracie finally came out of her room with tear-swollen eyes and finished hers, a little sob escaping her mouth occasionally. Hardly the picture of Advent togetherness that I was painting in my mind. But, after the girls finally settled down to sleep, I sat in the still quiet of the living room and looked over at the candle ornaments they’d made hanging haphazardly on their little purple Christmas tree and I promised to try again today. Knowing that Gracie does better earlier in the day, we’ll do the craft part at least in the afternoon. Hopefully, that will help. Even if it doesn’t, though, we’re going to keep trying. Because in the long run, even if it’s difficult, joy and love are worth it.

De-Scrooging

2011-11-27T23:17:59Z

I haven’t felt like myself for the last few months. Not all the time but often enough that I feel slightly off-kilter. It’s not a physical thing – I don’t feel bad. In fact, except for a back pain that rears its head a couple of times a year, I feel really good. It’s more of an emotional thing and I’m not quite sure how to describe it except that I am mad a lot more often than I usually am. My feelings get hurt a lot easier than they usually do. Sometimes, I feel alienated. This all feels bizarre to type out, mostly because when I look back at my blog posts and Facebook entries over the last several months, they appear, at least for the most part, joyful. And I have felt joyful, believe me I have. The thing is, though, that for most of my life, joy has come naturally to me. Now, joy feels like something I have to hunt down and hold on to for dear life. Does that make sense?

I suppose this is in some ways understandable. It’s been a rough six months for us. No really big things, just a lot of little things that sometimes feel like they’re weighing me down. I’ve been working. a lot. I enjoy my work; I honestly do. But I’ve had more deadlines in the last few months than usual and I sometimes feel like I’m using all of my energy treading water. I feel like I’m lagging at work and that makes me feel guilty. Steve and I are teaching Wednesday bible study classes at church. We were volunteers last year – the format is different this year, so instead of just being there, we’re actually teaching (he’s got 1st and 2nd graders and I’ve got 4th and 5th graders). I love this new format; I feel like I’m able to get to know the children so much better this way. The amazing children’s director does all the work for us, so basically we just have to show up on Wednesday and be enthusiastic and engaged. I have a wonderful co-teacher, so really I only have to be half enthusiastic and half engaged. Sometimes, it’s a struggle for me on Wednesdays and that makes me feel guilty. For the second year, I am Gracie’s Girl Scout leader. Last year we had ten girls that were between the ages of 5 1/2 and 6 1/2 and three leaders. This year we have eighteen girls between the ages of barely 5 and almost eight and three leaders. I have amazing co-leaders. But, sometimes I feel overwhelmed, particularly when I beg for help with something and I get shrugged shoulders. Sometimes, I just want to quit and that makes me feel guilty.

I’ve documented Abigail’s struggles at night with what may or may not be nocturnal seizures. She had her sleep study two weeks ago and we get the results on December 9th. The neurologist’s office thinks that it’s unlikely to be seizure activity – she may have a nocturnal movement disorder, sleep apnea, or my favorite: benign nocturnal mycolonic jerks. It’s been more than two months since all this started and honestly, I’m more tired than worried and that makes me feel guilty.

What I have not documented very well is Gracie’s struggles over the last few months. She had some trouble socially at the end of first grade and some school tests that she had over the summer led us to a child neuropsychologist. She ended up with multiple diagnoses that somewhat go hand in hand. She has attention deficit disorder, an anxiety disorder, and a pervasive developmental disorder (meaning she falls on the autism spectrum somewhere). All of these are mild and none of them should prevent her from being successful at whatever she wants to do in her life. In the summer Steve, Gracie, and I worked really, really hard on some behavior modification to help her with her focusing and on her outbursts. Honestly, it was extremely difficult but it paid off big time. Gracie was doing really, really well. The last few weeks, though, we’ve seen some backsliding. I think the reason for this is because I’ve been so focused on Abigail and everything else in my life that I haven’t been working as diligently with Gracie and that makes me feel guilty. It’s just so very, very hard. There were parts of this summer that were very dark for me – Gracie lost friends and I lost friends. I feel like I can’t talk openly about the things that go on with Gracie because I’m terrified of her being ostracized even more than she already is. If she had physical challenges, she would be welcomed with open arms. Since her problems are behavioral and emotional, sometimes I feel like people think she’s contagious. Please, if you’re reading this and you’ve thought twice about including my child, please, please, please reconsider. The vast majority of the time, her trouble happens at home or when she’s with me. She is able to keep it together until she sees me. I promise you, too, that she will not give what she has to your child. Honest.

So, all of this guilt and angst and worry seems to have piled up for me over the last several months and I don’t really like who I am right now. I can’t change most of the circumstances that have contributed to the way I feel. But, I can change how I react. I have felt sad and angry and lonely and maybe even a bit bitter. That stops now. Right now. Joy and happiness and thankfulness may feel elusive right now. But I am going to choose them. I’m going to pray every day for God to help me see my cup is half full, really more than half full - it’s running over with blessings. I’m going to let my guilt go and embrace my failures. I.am.happy.starting.now.

Before I Forget

2011-11-25T15:52:00Z

When Abigail was two, she started calling Chik-Fil-A Chick-a-Lay. She continued this until she was four. Of course, we all thought it was cute, so we called it Chick-a-Lay, too. That is, until a few months ago when Abigail firmly corrected me. “Mama, it’s not Chick-a-Lay, it’s CHICK, FIL, AAAAAAA.” I laughed, but felt a little twinge of sadness that she was starting to lose some of her babyisms.

I realized yesterday that I’m starting to forget some of her Abigailisms…those things that she says that are so cute and funny that I swear I’ll remember them always. Apparently, my memory it not all that I think it is. And I want to remember. Always remember. The only way I know to do that is to write it down. I may have lost some of her sayings, but luckily, she still has an arsenal of funny quotes.

Here are two my favorites right now:

She’s always in a hurry (except when I want her to be in a hurry). She likes to get things done in a “jippy”. As in, “Mama, if you hurry up and do the dishes, we’ll be done cleaning in a jippy and then we can play!”

She calls headphones Ear Muffins. I can tell you how much this makes me laugh. I chuckled now just typing it. Ear Muffins! I love this girl and all the funny things she says!

If you give a girl a cupcake

2011-10-14T22:28:37Z

I really wanted to make this yummy recipe that I’ve been excited to share with you, but I feel like I’ve been run over by an eighteen wheeler that then decided to throw it in reverse and double the damage. I don’t think I have strep like Abigail and Steve had earlier this week; I’ve just got an annoying cough and my head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton. And, I could easily sleep for a couple of days. So, instead of pictures and a recipe of delicious pumpkin curry soup, you get these pictures of my babies when I took them to tour the kitchen and decorate a cupcake at our favorite local cupcake shop, Oh! Snap.

I saw on Facebook that Oh Snap! was hosting a cupcake decorating tour on Labor Day and I thought it would be a perfect thing for the girls to do on a predicted rainy day (it ended up being really, really rainy that day since we were in the midst of Tropical Storm Lee).

First, the girls got to go back and see the kitchen where all the cupcake magic happens. I was surprised at how small the kitchen was – it is definitely a feat of organizational magic to be able to produce all those cupcakes in such a tiny space!

Then, it was time for decorating!

Gracie is somewhat of a minimalist when it comes to cupcake decorating.

Abigail? Well, she’s not such a minimalist. The picture on the left was about halfway through her process…the one on the right is her completed creation.

Then, of course, there was the joy of eating them. They sampled the frosting before we left.

Then, they finished them off after we picked up lunch and met Daddy at work.

All in all, it was a great rainy-day adventure. We enjoyed it so much, we actually took the girl scout troop for a tour and a decorating session last week.

Spa Night

2011-10-13T17:21:00Z

A few weeks ago, Steve went to a football game out of town. He left early Saturday morning and didn’t get back home until about 4:30 a.m. on Sunday. So, the girls and I had a girls’ day and night. It was the day after Abigail’s first shaking episode. (I’ll give an update about that in another post; I was going to do that here, but it got too long). So, I was a bit off-kilter that day, but being off-kilter wasn’t exactly an option since the girls were so excited about our plans for the day.

We loaded up our bikes and checked out a new to us green-belt bike trail in Robertsdale. It was awesome – I need to blog about it. Then, we had lunch at GooRoos (it was yummy; the girls enjoyed it and the service was excellent). We left there and made a stop by Target to pick up some new pajamas for the girls. They ended up with pajamas and the fuzzy slippers above and Abigail got a new fuzzy robe. We needed a cucumber but that Target didn’t sell produce so we went to Wal-Mart and bought a cucumber and a Neutrogena face mask. Everything was set for our first ever spa night.

I’d been planning this little spa night for the girls for a while. During the summer, I picked up travel sets of some fun Bath & Body Works scents and some Lavender milk bath and lotion; at Claire’s I got some rainbow nail polish; at the Children’s Museum of Memphis I found two gaudy plastic rings; at a party store I found plastic champagne flutes. I was ready!

The girls put on their robes and slippers and waited in the “waiting room” while I gathered everything together. Abigail said that in spa waiting rooms, ladies “always read the mazagines!” so she found a paper and settled in. (how she know this I don’t know since I’ve been to a spa one time in my life and she wasn’t born yet…I am an alien from another planet – I don’t like going to spas.) I poured them Sprite in the Champagne flutes and gave them their gaudy rings. They walked around like they were at the most expensive resort in the universe.

Then, I painted their fingernails and toenails with the rainbow colors.

Next, it was time for their facials. This was fun! The cucumbers were far too big for Abigail’s orbits, though!

For some reason, Gracie though she couldn’t move her mouth once the mask was on, so there was no smile from her!

Next up was their milk bath. They talked about this for days…”Daddy! Can you believe we got to take a MILK bath?”

We played some soft Chinese music (Gracie says Chinese music is very relaxing and perfect for a spa). I gave them massages with the lavender lotion, complete with “karate chops” (where you pound on your massage subject’s back and legs). Finally, they put on their new pajamas and settled down on pallets on the living room floor. I’d like to tell you that they drifted quickly off to sleep. The truth is, they were so excited about how much fun they had that they watched a movie and both of them were still awake at midnight! I think at least part of that was missing their daddy, but I’m glad they enjoyed our night so much!

In Sickness And In Health

2011-10-13T03:10:54Z

Gracie and I were in the car the other day, alone, when she piped up from the back seat, “Mommy, are you and Daddy going to get divorced?” I almost choked on my diet Dr. Pepper and couldn’t imagine where that thought came from. I asked her why she would ever think that and and she replied, “Well, you get so upset with him when he moves stuff and doesn’t tell you!” I suppressed my laughter and explained to her that no, Daddy & I weren’t going to divorce because he moved my sewing scissors (that were on the floor where they shouldn’t have been). I tried to explain in 7-year-old terms that I love her Daddy more than anyone in this world and that just because we disagree sometimes, we are not going to split up.

I thought about that conversation a good bit today. Today is our 9th anniversary. And, honestly, today couldn’t be more different than our wedding day. Instead of being together, surrounded by our friends and family, we spent the day apart and we’ll spend the night apart, too. Steve woke up this morning feeling pretty bad. I can’t say that I was too surprised. Abigail has strep throat and I’ve had a pretty ugly cold for the last couple of days. But, because Steve is the kind of man that he is, he went into work because he didn’t want to let his co-workers down. I convinced him that he didn’t need to go to church tonight and teach his Wednesday night class of second and third graders and pass on whatever toxic germs he is carrying to them. (I decided I’d recovered sufficiently enough to teach my 4th and 5th graders but after an hour of trying to make my weak voice heard over their din, I’m not so sure that was a smart move!). After some not too subtle prodding by me, Steve went to the urgent care clinic and the doctor there prescribed him some antibiotics. He’s sleeping in our bedroom now. Hopefully, he’ll feel worlds better tomorrow.

I’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight, like I have for the last couple of weeks. That is by choice, but not because I don’t want to share a bed with my husband. The truth is I am scared to sleep with Abigail by myself because I’m afraid she’ll have another shaking spell. But, I’m absolutely terrified of her sleeping alone. So, the ridiculous solution is that Steve sleeps with her, keeping a watchful, but less neurotic than mine, eye on her. It’s not the best plan; I know this. But, to me, it’s yet another way that Steve demonstrates how much he loves me and the girls. He’s willing to do whatever he has to to keep us safe (and me sane).

As I’m writing all of this, I’m realizing how terribly unromantic it all sounds – Nyquil and antibiotics and juggling teaching church classes and 5-year-olds having shaking episodes. And then there are all the other things: medical bills and family dramas, and a highly emotional 7-year-old and multiple jobs for both of us and cars that break down and water pipes that burst. Yeah, it doesn’t sound that romantic at all on paper. I guess because right now, it isn’t romantic. It’s so much more than romance. It’s a man who gets up each day and works hard, but still calls at lunch to see how my day is going. A man who thanks me for cooking dinner even when all I’ve done is throw frozen fish sticks on a baking sheet. A man who’s willing to cut his mother-in-law’s grass after he’s already cut his own just because he loves his wife. A man who tries his best every day to make me happy.

Abigail and I were riding in the car this morning and she said. “Mommy? Where are we going for you and Daddy’s anniversary? Should I change into a beautiful dress?” I told her we weren’t going anywhere. After I talked to her for a few minutes, I realized that she thought Steve & I were actually getting married again today. She had visions of flowers and a church and friends and family being there. She had the whole romantic ideal going on in that adorable little head of hers. And, I smiled. Because the romance is wonderful, it truly is. But this so much more. It’s life and it’s real and it’s love and I’ll take that any day over flowers and a pretty dress.

Elusive Glass Pumpkins

2011-10-11T11:09:00Z

Gracie and I had a day full of adventures scheduled for last Saturday. She had a soccer game and her American Girl book club. In between, we planned to go downtown to the Belmont Arts & Cultural Center for their Glass Pumpkin Patch. I saw this event advertised last year, but for some reason that I now can’t remember, we didn’t make it. When I saw it in the paper last month, I immediately put it on our calendar for this year.

When I was a little girl, we used to take day trips to Jamestown and when we were there, we always visited the Jamestown Glasshouse. It always mesmerized me to see the artisans turn molten glass into beautiful works of art. So, the idea of taking the girls to see an entire “patch” of glass-blown pumpkins sounded great. When I realized there were going to be glass blowing demonstrations, too, I was hooked.

We ran into a scheduling glitch because the event ran from ten a.m. to two p.m. Gracie’s soccer game was at 10:20 which meant we couldn’t go before soccer and Abigail’s soccer game was at noon which meant we wouldn’t be able to go after soccer and still be back by two for book club. Luckily, Steve was off on Saturday so we decided that he would stay and watch Abigail’s game and let Gracie & I go to the pumpkin patch (I didn’t feel too bad about this – I think Abigail was a little young to truly enjoy the glass blowing anyway; I did feel bad about having to miss her soccer game, though). As it turned out, Abigail was sick, sick, sick on Saturday so Steve went to watch Gracie play and then we he brought her home, she & I headed downtown.

By the time we got there, all 700 of the glass blown pumpkins were already sold! Wow! I was a little disappointed and so was Gracie, but what great news for the fundraiser for the center. And, we quickly forgot our disappointment as we watched the glass blowers. It was as incredible as I remember from all those years ago. Gracie’s eye were huge as she watch them. After we watched for a while, we started to head out of the studio and we spied these beautiful glass ball ornaments. Gracie saw the orange one and said, “Hey, Mama! Look! There’s still one pumpkin left!” I don’t think it was intended as pumpkin, simply an orange ball, but it worked for both of us. She was a happy camper and I was glad to have a piece of local art.

Next year, we’re going to go back, but we’re going to get there early!

Technorati Tags: Belmont Arts & Cultural Center,Glass Pumpkin Patch,Things to do in Pensacola

Bone Dancing

2011-10-10T10:19:00Z

Last year, it was mummies. This year, she’s graduated (?) to skeletons. Abigail spied this glow-in-the-dark skeleton at the store. I’d say that it fascinated her, but I don’t think that’s an accurate word for running down the main aisle of Target, shrieking, and yelling, “Mommy! Look! Look! Look at the skeleton! It’s huge! I love it! I want it! Please, please, please!!” Fascination is probably too mild of a word. I didn’t buy it, though. At least not that day. She continued to talk about the skeleton at home (telling her Daddy tales of the humongous skeleton) and every time we went in Target it was a repeat of the running and shrieking and yelling. And, honestly? I’m more than a little tickled that she gets as excited about Halloween decorations as I do. So, I spent a good chunk of my Halloween budget for this year (what, you don’t have a Halloween budget?) on this guy.

Really? I think it may have been worth it. As soon as we took it out of the box, she asked if she could dance with it. The girls and the skeleton waltzed for a while and then she proceeded to give him kisses worthy of a 1940s movie (Scarlett O’Hara and Rhett Butler got nothing on this pair’s swoop kisses!)

She decided that she should take him swinging, because, as she says “My skeleton would love to swing! I can push him and then we won’t fall off and break a bone!”

Then she wanted to bring him inside. She asked if I would sing the song. I asked her what song. “You know, Mommy! The song they sing when peoples get married and the bride walks down the row.” Ummmm…well, then. I told her that her Daddy would probably be upset if she married a skeleton while he was a work and refused to sing the Wedding March.

I love this girl and her Halloween goofiness!

Overboard

2011-10-09T13:25:27Z

I know that my children have everything they need and then some. Steve & I are fortunate that we’re able to get them many of the things that they want (their bedroom is certainly a testimony to this; it’s often difficult to walk in there among the strewn toys and books). Still, I try to manage some kind of balance between spoiling the girls rotten and teaching them the value of simplicity. This month, though, I suspect that balance may be tilting more toward the rotten side; however, while Gracie may not have learned a lesson about simplicity this month, I think she may have learned a lesson that is just as valuable.

Gracie has been working very hard this year at a lot of different things. She’s been working hard to control her temper tantrums; she’s been learning tools to improve her focusing skills; and she’s been reading, reading, and reading.

Her school uses the Accelerated Reader program. Basically, the children read books in their reading level and then take computerized test on the books. Each book is assigned a point level, so the more books they read (and the more difficult those book are), the more points they accrue. Many schools use this program. Gracie’s school, however, uses the points as a type of reward system. Children who get a certain number of points get a spot on the “Wall of Fame” and children who get three times that number get a spot on the “Brag Board” . And yes, those names make me cringe, too. Finally, at the end of the year, the three children from each class get to go on a special field trip. Gracie is a strong reader. Each year of school, she’s earned enough points to land a spot on the “Wall of Fame” and either made it to or come close to the “Brag Board”. The problem is, at least in her mind, that’s she’s never earned enough points to go on the elusive field trip. This year, she decided that she really, really wants to go on that field trip. And she has worked hard so far. Steve & I decided that we wanted to encourage her efforts, and also reward her for all of her hard work.

For the last four months, Gracie has been attending an American Girl book club that meets at the public library. I can not say enough good things about this book club. The club, and its leader, have done more to encourage Gracie in her reading than anything we’ve done at home or school. The leader of the book club is a sixteen-year-old high school senior who created the program three years ago. Her name is Mary Grace and she is nothing short of amazing. Each month, she makes the books come alive for the girls with a lively discussion of the current book and an activity that flushes out the storyline. Gracie has been able to hear from a marine biologist about local sea turtles; she’s participated in a Russian folktale play; she’s learned the Virginia Reel. I don’t think I can overstate what a good thing this has been for her!

At the end of the each meeting, they announce what book the girls will be discussing the next month. In September, Mary Grace said that the girls should read the book “Meet Marie-Grace”, the introductory book to one of American Girl’s new historical dolls. The story is set in New Orleans a decade before the Civil War. This doll immediately piqued Gracie’s interest, partly because of the similarity to her own name (Grace AnnMarie…Marie-Grace) and partly because we both think that the character Marie-Grace (pronounced Mary Grace) is loosely based on the leader of her book club, Mary Grace. As soon as I heard this was the book selection for October, I started formulating a plan. Steve & I talked and we agreed. We told Gracie that if she had earned enough AR points (35) to be on the Wall of Fame by the October American Girl Book Club, that we would give her a special surprise. It seemed like a lofty, but obtainable goal. At that point, she had about 10 points, so four weeks to get the remaining 15 seemed doable. About three weeks ago, she came home from school completely crushed. The school changed the number of points that second-graders need to get on the Wall of Fame. It seems that too many children read over the summer and were getting onto the Wall too easily (and yes, I see the complete and utter lunacy in that statement). Steve and I talked again and decided that we would honor our original deal of 35 points and not require that she earn 40 points (the new point level) to get her special gift. We told Gracie and she continued to work hard.

The October book club was yesterday. On Friday afternoon, Gracie took the test that took her to 35 points and Friday evening, she unwrapped her surprise, her very own Marie-Grace doll. I wish I could bottle the joy that lit her face when she got into the car on Friday afternoon and told me that she’d made it and the look of surprise when she opened her present. Her sense of accomplishment is priceless to me.

I know that looking in from the outside, it seems overboard to reward Gracie for something that she should be doing anyway. We expect her to do her schoolwork to the best of her ability. We expect her to always try her best. But, over the last several months, she’s worked harder than she ever has; she’s been through some pretty tough times for a 7-year-old, but she’s worked through them and she’s doing so much better. Steve and I are both so proud of her!

Halloween Countdown Board

2011-10-04T15:03:16Z

I have a reason why I craft. See, the majority of what I do gets undone 5 minutes after I’ve finished. The laundry, the dishes, cleaning up the living room. Regardless of how often I do it, as soon as I turn around, I’ve got to do it again. In some ways, my code writing work is that way, too. As soon as I finish one piece, it’s time to update it and modify it. And let’s not even talk about how I say the same things to the girls over and over again. Every day. Every hour. Many times, I feel like I never have closure with anything. And it’s hard to recognize anything as an accomplishment when it never seems to be finished. I know, I know…zen and the art of dishwashing and yada, yada, yada. I guess I’m just not far along enough in my enlightenment to say to myself “the journey of cleaning up the house is accomplishment enough.” Yeah, not there yet.

But, my crafts? Well for the most part they give me a sense of closure. When I finish them. Which I’ll admit doesn’t happen as frequently as I’d like. (Steve’s probably laughing hysterically as he reads this, thinking about all the half-finished “projects” I have around the house.) When I do finish them though, I really enjoy the feeling of having created something that will last, at least longer than a couple of seconds.

I’m going to be honest here. This craft did not give me that happy, contented feeling. I’ll explain why in a minute.

I am a hopeless craft blog addict (I’m also a food blog addict, but you probably already knew that). One of my favorite craft blogs in Infarrantly Creative. Beckie does some amazing things. Honestly, I am not a particularly creative person. I’m able to copy projects that other people come up with fairly well, and on a good day, I can take someone else’s idea and tweak it to give it my own personal spin, but actually coming up with something cool and creative on my own? Not exactly my forte. A few months ago, Beckie started creating these awesome Countdown boards using MDF board, some paint, her Silhouette machine, and Hershey kisses. She did a St. Patrick’s Day one, an Easter one, a Summer one and a few others. I was hoping that she’d do a Halloween one and I wasn’t disappointed. Really, I guess I could have figured it out myself, but ummm…can you say laziness on my part?

I was so excited to start this project. From the beginning, though, it was rife with difficulty (let me be perfectly clear here…none of my troubles had anything to do with Beckie’s instructions or the idea…it was all idiocy on my part). Abigail and I had to go to two stores to get the board (Lowes wouldn’t cut it for us because their saw was broken). Then, Steve drilled the holes for me and it took him three days because the drill battery kept dying (I think we’re investing in a corded drill very soon!). Then, I had more trouble with the spiderweb stencil than any sane person ought to have with a stencil. I ended up using it as a reverse stencil – I painted a square of the board silver, placed the inverted stencil on the board and repainted the black – does that make sense? It worked like a charm that way. Then, I didn’t have any regular Modge Podge and had to use Glitter Modge Podge which I think actually turned out pretty cool. Then, I couldn’t find any adhesive tape – I have like three dispensers and two replacement cartridges but none of them matched. Ughhh! Finally, finally, I got them finished (did I mention I made two of them – one for Gracie and one for Abigail). All I wanted to do was take a picture. I set one in the kitchen. I bumped it and all of the kisses fell out. Some of them fell on the floor. Ella Bella ran over and gulped them up, wrapper, numbers, and all. Ugghhhh! So, I moved them to the bathroom. Yesterday, before I could get a picture, Abigail went in there and knocked the whole thing over. Again with the kisses on the floor! Finally, finally I got the picture. But, I was so frustrated with the whole process that I wanted to cry! I think a huge part of the problem is that I got a really, really cheapie easel to hold it up and it slides and collapses very easily. Also, I think Steve & I messed up drilling some of the holes and either got them too deep or too shallow so the kisses don’t sit flush with the board.

The girls think these are the coolest thing ever! They’re begging to eat the kisses and have already come up with ideas for a Christmas countdown board, a Birthday countdown board, and Gracie suggested we make one for each month. I told her I didn’t know about that! This morning, though, I’m ready to admit that I’d like to try and make another one. Because, they are sooooo cool and they really do look awesome sitting on the counter. And, while the process may not have been as smooth as I’d like, I do feel some sense of accomplishment which is the whole purpose. Right?

Doodles of Fun

2011-10-03T16:38:11Z

You all know how I feel about October, right? It’s my favorite month of the year and every year I try and do fun fall or Halloween related things with the girls.

I saw a copy of this Halloween Doodles book at Barnes and Noble. (We’re spending a lot of time there lately…Gracie is a reading machine this year and likes nothing better than to go to the bookstore and find something new to read). I didn’t get the copy I saw in the store, but I kept thinking about how cool it was. So, I ordered three copies on-line. The girls and I spend a good bit of time waiting at doctor’s offices, at ballet lessons, before soccer practice. I thought these would be the perfect thing for us to do together. We pulled the books and some colored pencils out on Friday while we were waiting for Gracie’s doctor’s appointment. The first page was adding scary faces to pumpkins. We all had a great time creating spooky looks!

I think these will be a definite plus throughout the month! And, I have a sinking feeling that we’re going to be spending some more time in doctors’ offices this month- Abigail is still shaking at night and it seems to be getting worse. She’s tired; I’m tired; I’m ready for some answers – I just hope we don’t have to finish the entire Halloween Doodles book before we get them!

Normal..Goofy But Normal!

2011-10-01T12:14:49Z

Abigail’s EEG results came back perfectly normal. When the doctor told me, I felt the weight of the world lift from shoulders and the vise grip that was on my heart release.

She’s still twitching and shaking in her sleep and we still don’t have answers for that, but the doctor says unless she starts to exhibit signs of daytime sleepiness we’re going to let it go for now. Of course I’m watching her like a hawk during the day and every time she yawns I wonder if she’s tired. But, honestly, she’s as active as normal during the day…running, talking, playing. Her teachers haven’t noticed any difference in her (and I think they would be the first to notice because she’s one of the most talkative in her class – surprise! – and if she started to quiet down, they would pick up on it quickly). She’s playing soccer and enjoyed her birthday party last Saturday. So, right now, the nighttime shakies just seem like some kind of anomaly. And for that, I am thankful. So very thankful.

Like a Thief in the Night

2011-09-22T22:34:16Z

Yesterday, I was rushing Gracie to school because we were running late (really late). I noticed the car in front of me.

It was a older white Mazda Miata. The rear right bumper was dented and the right taillight was cracked. The back window was completely gone and the whole car looked like it had seen better days. The only person in the car was the driver, a man in a baseball cap. As we drove farther down the road, the man pulled the cap off, stuck his head out the window, shook his head quickly, and then reversed the process. It took me a minute to realize what he was doing. He was brushing his hair, simply and quickly. Inexplicably, or maybe not, my eyes filled with tears and a stab of jealously struck me. How amazingly wonderful to be able to roll of out bed five minutes before you need to leave, throw some clothes on, and jump in your car. How perfectly carefree. Of course, I realize I was projecting all of this on to the man; for all I know he may have been working four jobs and found out today that it’s still not enough to cover the bills; maybe he’s homeless and lives in his car. I know I was projecting. I know that I sounded crazy, even to myself. Sleep deprivation will do that to you. And add gut-wrenching worry to the sleep deprivation. Well, that’s an explosive combo…

On Friday night, I lay down beside Abigail. She fell asleep about 8:30 and I fell asleep too. I’m not going to explain the sleeping arrangements in our house – they are vast and complicated on most nights, mostly because Abigail is plagued by nightmares and partly because I am an early to bed, early to rise person and Steve is the opposite. (Gracie sleeps in the same bed, in her room, every single night – in this matter at least, she is my easy-going child). Anyway, Abigail was sleeping peacefully and I curled up, expecting to snuggle with her until Steve moved her to her bed when he was ready to go to sleep.

About 11:30, I woke up and looked over at Abigail. She was shaking. I don’t even know how to describe it; words fail me. She wasn’t shaking violently, but it wasn’t mild either. Her whole body was involved – like she was shivering. Her eyes were open, but they didn’t seem focused. I called out to her and she did respond. How long did it last? I don’t know – it seemed interminable but at the same time it seemed to be over instantly. I remember processing the thought, “Should I call an ambulance?” But, did I have that thought because I was woken from a deep sleep? Things that seem silly in the daytime are terrifying in the middle of the night (when I was a girl I terrified myself with a black cat in our hallway, only to realize in the morning that the supposed cat was a pile of my dad’s black work socks). So, I don’t know. Was it bad? Was it not bad? Regardless, it terrified me beyond words. Steve was brushing his teeth when it happened and by the time he came out of the bathroom, it was over. (That’s probably the best timeline explanation I have, “Yes, doctor. The episode lasted as long as it takes my husband to brush his teeth…if you’ll sing your ABCs twice, you’ll have an exact second count”).

I think Steve thought I was overreacting. There is no comfort in that. I can not help but worry – was it a seizure? Was it night terrors? Was it some strange thing that happens to her as she goes through sleep transitions? I have no answers and even if I did, I probably couldn’t formulate them because I haven’t sleep well since last Thursday night. She didn’t shake on Saturday night, but she did on Sunday. I don’t even remember Monday night. Steve slept with her Tuesday and Wednesday – I needed a break from spending most of the night watching her. He said that last night she did shake and it lasted about a minute. He didn’t seem anywhere as upset by it as I do. He is always more rational than I am, particularly when it comes to the girls. Most of the time, I am just mildly annoyed by his rationality. This time, I am envious of it – I would give anything to just be able to let the worry go. I want to believe that if this was the only worry-inducing event going on in our lives right now that I wouldn’t be this unsettled, but I don’t know if that’s the case. This has unnerved me. These little episodes of Abigail’s, whatever they are, have crept in like a thief in the night and stolen that element of peace that exists when my babies are sleeping and the house is quiet.

I took her to the doctor Tuesday morning and she said Abigail seemed fine, but felt we should do an EEG just to be on the safe side. She said it would take a week or two to get her in. They called yesterday and she had her EEG this morning. It was a sleep-deprived test, so we had to keep her up for two hours past her bedtime and wake her up two hours before we normally do. I expected it to be really difficult; it actually wasn’t too bad. She was all smiles at 5:00 a.m. (This afternoon is a completely different story – she is in rare mean, fit-pitching form –bedtime can’t come soon enough). The test itself was easy. In true Abigailiness, she turned it into an adventure. As we were leaving, the check-in people came out of their office, waving, “Goodbye Abigail!”

Now, we wait. For the results of the EEG. For night to fall and sleep to come. I pray that it is restful sleep for all of us.

All About Abigail

2011-09-14T03:34:06Z

She is five years old today. Five years!

I could tell you her birth story, but that needs to be told on another day when you have lots of time to hear a scary story with a happy ending.

I could tell you how I wanted to pull my hair out this morning when she informed me that now that she is five, she no longer needs to listen to me or do what I ask her to do. And then how she spent ten minutes arguing with me about buckling her seat belt.

I could tell you how much I grinned when I sat in her preschool classroom while she passed out her Oh Snap! Oreo cupcakes to her classmates. She was truly in her element and almost dancing with happiness.

I could tell you how my heart swelled with joy when I watched her this evening at soccer practice, putting all her attention and spirit into kicking that little red ball around while her blond pigtails danced in the breeze.

I could tell you how I giggled when she stood on the ottoman and sang, at the top of her lungs, “Happy Birthday to who? Me! That’s right, Happy Birthday to ME!!!”

I could tell you how I got choked up reading Puff the Magic Dragon to her tonight and how my tears spilled onto her pillow while I rubbed her back as we listened to Peter, Paul, and Mary sing the song from the book as she drifted off to sleep. I can’t believe that she’s five years old and that before I know it, she, like little Jackie Paper, will be too old for things like string and sealing wax and other fancy stuff like pigtails and butterfly lunch boxes. But for now, she is still young enough to enjoy those things and I am going to relish it.

Yes, I could tell you all of those things, but instead, I think I’ll just let Abigail tell you about herself. This is a project she did for preschool last week. She put the stickers on herself and then dictated to me what I should write. I think she describes herself pretty well:

She says:

“My name is Abigail! I am 4 years old. Next week I will be 5 years old! I love to cook. I suck my thumb. I am kind. I like my family. I love babies and dogs named Max. I like to get presents and I like to give them to others. I love animals. I like to sing! I like to have fun.”

I don’t think I could have described her better myself! I love my sweet, precious, headstrong, loving, kind, amazing five year old!

What I’ve done; what I’m doing

2011-09-09T13:27:55Z

Yesterday I cried for an hour for no good reason except sheer and absolute mental and emotional exhaustion.

Yesterday I realized that I have been shopping this summer, more than I should, because I’m stressed. Stress shopping is no better for you than stress drinking or stress eating, but at least my girls have some really cool games and books and I have some awesome decorations for Halloween. I’m not sure, but I think Steve would rather that I stress eat and may possibly rather that I stress drink.

Yesterday I tried to get out of going to the first meeting of my new bible study because I was too tired and too disorganized and too this and too that. Steve made me go. I am glad.

Yesterday I wished, at least once, that I lived on a desert island that didn’t involve doctor’s appointments, hospitals, nursing homes, or minivans so full of junk that you can’t put the back seat up. But I realized that living on desert island would be lonely and by loving people I’m opening myself to doctor’s appointments, hospitals, nursing homes and minivans full of crayons, candy wrappers, and leftover McDonalds Happy Meal toys.

Yesterday, I fell into an exhausted sleep a little before midnight but not before I finished cleaning the kitchen. Which made me feel good at 5:00 a.m. this morning.

This morning I thought, more than once, that sending Abigail to a boarding school is not something I’m totally against. Particularly if she could start today.

This morning I felt like the worst mother. ever.

This morning I wondered why I’m capable of designing and supporting a database full of hundreds of thousands of records, but I’m not capable of getting the girls dressed and their lunches made without at least one of us having a meltdown.

This morning, for the first time in a long time, I missed my solitary drives to work at 5:30 a.m. when I listened to Morning Edition and the sky was still dark.

This morning, I would give anything to be able to talk to my father and hear his professional opinion.

This morning, my head is so full of pressure from the weather change that I’m almost wishing fall would leave and 100 degree temperatures would return. almost.

Today, I am going to be an advocate for my oldest child. And I don’t know what I’m doing. at all. and I hope that that’s okay.

Roll Tide Burgers

2011-09-08T11:30:54Z

I’m not a football fan – there I said it – go ahead and stone me if you must. I never was a football fan – in high school I was a band geek and spent almost every football game either trying not to die from heat exhaustion because my uniform was made of something akin to wool combined with polyester or trying not to die from frostbite because my goofy color guard shoes were made of something akin to rice paper. Either way, in high school, I was far more concerned with surviving the experience than enjoying what was happening on the field. In college, I was a band geek yet again. The issue here wasn’t so much my uniform but this little known fact: in high school when you’re a band geek, you’re pretty much just a geek. In college, at least my college, band geeks are elevated to some sort of obnoxious geek club, which somehow elevates your coolness level about 150%. So, in college I was too busy trying to be obnoxious to care what was happening on the field. (Now, basketball is a whole other beast entirely – I can sixth man with the best of them when it comes to basketball).

Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on your perspective, I married an avid (I almost typed rabid - I think that might be more accurate) Alabama football fan. I have tolerated more than ten years of listening to Alabama statistics, coach changes, player updates, and on and on and on. (In the spirit of full disclosure, I really don’t mind – football may not be my thing, but it is Steve’s and he puts up with a heck of a lot from me). In addition to Steve’s love of football, I also live in a part of the country where football is something of a religion. You pretty much can’t escape it here in the deep south – it’s as much a part of the local culture as walks on the beach or Sunday dinners with the family.

While I don’t think I’ll ever be sitting in my house on Saturday afternoons watching people run up and down a 100 yd. field in 100 degree heat ramming into each other to get to a ball made out of pigskin, I can get into the party aspect of it. I’ll take any opportunity to have a party with my girls. So, last Saturday, the girls donned their chef’s hats (and apparently some Sumo wrestler expressions) and we got down to cooking some food worthy of the first day of football season.

This year, Steve had to work on opening day of college football. So, the girls and I decided to throw together a little party to surprise him when he came home. We made some buffalo chicken dip and these little cookies.

Okay, a cookie decorator I will never be and I don’t think either of my girls has a future as one either, but we certainly had fun making them!

I found this awesome little chip and dip holder at Sarah Jane’s, our local geegaw shop. What’s a geegaw shop you ask? It’s what my dad called little gift shops full of interesting things that my sister, my mother and I couldn’t resist. Some of my favorite treasures have come from geegaw shops all over the country!

My favorite thing we made were the little cheeseburgers at the top. I’ve made them several times for parties during the Christmas season, but when I saw the little football shaped (okay, I realize I’m stretching it, but the buns were kind of oval and I saw a little bit of resemblance), I thought they’d be the perfect addition to our “party”. These little burgers are really, really yummy and since you bake them instead of frying or grilling them, they’re pretty low maintenance, which really helps when you’re cooking in the middle of a tropical storm. I’m just saying….

Here’s the recipe if you want to try them at your next get together, be it a football party, a basketball party, or a Tropical Storm party!

Roll Tide Burgers (originally named Buffet Burgers)

2 pounds lean ground beef
1 cup soft bread crumbs
1/2 cup chopped onion
1 egg, lightly beaten
1 tablespoon mayonnaise
1 teaspoon garlic salt
1 teaspoon Italian seasoning
1/4 teaspoon white pepper (you can use black pepper if you like, the white pepper gives the flavor a little extra depth of yumminess!)
1 1/2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese
20 small rolls, split

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Combine ground beef, bread crumbs, onion, egg, mayonnaise, garlic salt, Italian seasoning, and pepper; mix well. Press meat mixture into bottom of a 15 1/2 x 10 1/2 inch jellyroll pan to within 1 inch of edges of pan. Bake 20 to 25 minutes; drain. Top meat mixture with cheese and bake 5 to 8 minutes longer or until cheese is melted. Remove from oven and allow to sit (about 5 minutes). Cut meat into 20 squares and place inside rolls. Enjoy!

The Beginning of the End of an Era

2011-09-04T18:32:50Z

Abigail started school on Monday. Her last year of preschool; my last year of preschool She is so excited; I am not so excited. I can not believe that in just a few short months, she will no longer be attending the preschool that has been so much a part of our lives for the last five years. Five years? That’s half of a decade! Abigail was only a year old when we switched Gracie there. Gracie went for almost two years and Abigail will have been a student for four years when she “graduates” in May.

Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve found myself wishing I could turn back time or at least stall it. These preschool days have been magical and I know that each year that passes, the girls get more and more independent. What will our lives look like five years from now when we have have a 7th grader and a 4th grader? I know the magic will still be there, but I also know the magic will be different. Will they still enjoy “crafting” with me? Maybe. Will I still be the most exciting person they know? Probably not. I do know that I will try my best to enjoy this last year of preschool, both for Abigail and for me.

The interesting thing, at least for me, about having two children, especially when they’re more than two years apart is this: Everything they do is the first time and the last time. And both the first and the last are wrought with emotion. I cried when Gracie started kindergarten because it was the first time one of my babies started school And, I’ll cry when Abigail starts because it will be the last time one of my girls will start school. And I guess that’s appropriate because everything I am as a parent is tied up in the two of them – they are both the beginning and the end, the start and the finish.

Abigail is so excited for this year. She feels like a “big girl”. And, in fact, she is a big girl. She’s no longer a baby or a toddler. Soon, before I blink it seems, she won’t be a preschooler. But for now, we’re both going to enjoy classrooms filled with glues sticks and markers, baby dolls, and dress up clothes. She may learn to read and write her name this year, but I’m sure that what she’ll remember most from her last year of preschool is the time she spent playing with her friends. Here’s to a wonderful year!

{dis}Orientation

2011-08-31T13:19:37Z

Last Friday, Gracie had her second grade orientation. This is the third year we’ve done this – we go in, meet her teacher, drop off her school supplies, look around to see who she knows in her class, and then head out after a few minutes, excited for the first day of school the following Monday.

The two weeks before orientation this year were a little bumpy. Honestly, the whole summer was a bit of a bumpy ride around here but the last two weeks were even a little rougher. I need to write about all of that, but it’s a whole long post that I need to work out first in my mind before I write it all down. But, on the day of orientation, as we walked into the school, it seemed like things were settling down . We had Gracie’s teacher assignment; she had one of the certified gifted teachers, even though she’s not in the gifted program. ( In Gracie’s school, if there are enough students, the school creates a self-contained gifted class. I assumed since Gracie was assigned to the teacher that the second grade class didn’t have enough children for a self-contained class). Gracie already knew most of the children in her class and we’d actually found everything on her school supply list. We were early, which if you know us, was a small miracle.

Gracie was the first one into her class. She got to spend a little time talking to the teacher. I was able to sign up as a parent volunteer. One of Gracie’s friends came in and the two girls giggled about who was sitting next to each other and they walked around the room, pointing out all the things that interested them. Gracie was glowing with excitement. As we were leaving, I happened to ask the teacher what Gracie would be doing when the other children went to the gifted program. The teacher looked a little taken aback but she recovered nicely. She said, “If she’s in this class, she’ll go with them. If they put her in here, here is where she’s supposed to be.”

I should have been relieved, but there was a small voice whispering that something wasn’t quite right. So, I went and found the gifted program director and explained the situation to her – that Gracie isn’t in the gifted program but was in the class. The director pulled up her records and said she needed to go and talk to the principal to see what was going on because the class was supposed to be self-contained. She wanted to check and see if maybe there weren’t quite enough children to fill the class and they’d placed Gracie in there because of her standardized test results. She told us to finish up the other things on our list (signing Gracie up for piano lessons and me up for the PTA) and then come back and she’d have an answer for us.

We walked up and down the halls. Gracie was holding my hand and I hoped that she didn’t pick up on the tension I was feeling. I should tell you here Gracie had a really, really rough summer. Her self esteem has taken multiple hits over the last several months. She doubts her intelligence, her ability to have friends, pretty much everything. I knew that if we had to pull her out of this class, she would take it personally.

After we finished signing up for the PTA (the piano teacher wasn’t there yet), we found the gifted program director talking to the principal. She told us we needed to go down to the principal’s office and see what happened. As we walked down the hall, the principal chatted on about how sorry she was and she didn’t see how this could have happened. I could see Gracie’s face start to crumble and I could feel the anxiety in her little hand as it clutched mine, tighter and tighter. As we rounded the corner into her office, the principal said, in a voice loud enough for my baby to hear, “Well, she can’t be in that class. All those children are gifted.”.

What my child heard was, “I’m not smart enough to be in that class”.

The tears started. I wish that I could say the only tears were Gracie’s because what she needed in that moment was for me to be strong. But, as I stood there watching my baby’s spirit be crushed yet again, any strength I had took a hiatus and I couldn’t hold the tears back. As we sat there and listened to the principal apologize for neglecting to check Gracie’s paperwork before assigning her to that class and asking if I had another teacher in mind for her, I tried to keep my tears from dissolving into full-blown sobs. Gracie stood behind me, tears racing down her cheeks. I asked the principal if we could talk to Gracie’s first grade teacher before we put her in another class so I could get her opinion. The principal agreed. Gracie and I walked down the long hall to her first grade classroom. As soon as we walked in, I knew we’d come to the right place.

Gracie’s teacher immediately knew something was wrong. And, if I loved her teacher before Friday (which I did), that love has multiplied by a million. When I explained the situation, the first thing she did was take Gracie by the shoulders, lean down to her level, look her square in the eye, and say, “Grace. I want you to listen to me. This did not happen because you are not smart. This mix-up happened because you are so very smart.” And Gracie’s tears dried up instantly because her teacher’s word, in her mind, is gospel. (Unfortunately, mine did not dry up as quickly, although I think they were more from relief at this point). The next thing her teacher did was to help us figure out a second grade teacher. She worked with the gifted program director and between the two of them, they selected a teacher for Grace, cleared it with the principal, explained the situation to the new teacher and the original teacher, and took Gracie’s school supplies from the old classroom to the new one. Their grace and kindness made what could have been a very difficult situation a lot less so. Gracie and I walked down and met her second new teacher of the day and Gracie was happy as a clam.

Gracie loves her new teacher (this weekend, she sat down and made her a beautiful card and wrote her a very sweet note). I think that as bumpy as the road was to get there, it’s going to be a wonderful situation for Grace. The new teacher said to me that her gift was building children’s self-esteem, which Gracie needs more than anything right now.

I am so thankful for everyone who helped us on Friday. I spent a couple of hours feeling slightly disoriented. Gracie bounced back much faster than I did! I regret that I did not hold it together as well as I should have for her sake. I regret that I didn’t question her teacher assignment when we got it in the mail earlier in the week and could have possibly worked it all out without Gracie ever knowing or feeling like she was inadequate. I regret that I didn’t find somewhere to leave her when I went to talk to the principal so she wouldn’t have heard the principal’s ill-timed words. But, I am glad that I did think to ask at orientation rather than waiting to let the school realize their error and have her pulled out of class after school started. I am so grateful to the wonderful teachers and the gifted program director who smoothed the way for both of us. And, I am glad that this happened to us and not someone new to the school I knew where to go and what questions to ask. Gracie had champions for her. A new student might have been lost in the shuffle. More than anything I am so thankful that Gracie bounded off to school on Monday morning with a smile on her face!

Am I The Only One Who Doesn’t Know About This?

2011-08-06T10:51:00Z

Did you know that you can use your automatic ice cream maker to make slushies? How did I miss this? I saw a coke icee on Bake At 350 and decided to try it with my ice cream maker. Instead of just making a soda flavored one, I decided to try a Cherry Limeade Slushie.

When I was pregant with Abigail, a Sonic opened a few miles from our house. All during that long, hot hot summer before she was born, I subsisted on Cherry Limeades. I still love them. But, sometimes, I just don’t want to drive to Sonic. Now I don’t have to because these guys were good – I think they were even better than the Sonic ones since they were slushy and really, really cold. And drinking them out of milk bottles with paper straws certainly didn’t hurt either.

All I did was get my ice cream bowl out of the freezer, pour in 2 cups of Minute Maid Cherry Limeade juice (the kind that’s already made up in the refrigerator section at the grocery store) and 3 cups of Sprite. (I read that you can’t use diet drinks in the ice cream maker, but I wonder if you could in this one, since the juice has sugar in it…hmmm…maybe I’ll try that next time…what’s the worst the could happen besides ruining my ice cream maker…on second thought, I don’t think I’ll try it). Then, I just set the bowl in the ice cream maker, added the center thing and the lid, turned it on, and let it do its thing for about 20 minutes. At first I didn’t think it was going to work (I checked it 200 times in the first three minutes), but after several minutes, the mixture started to “slush up” and by the end of twenty minutes, it was the perfect slushy texture. Then, I poured them in the glasses, added some cherries and a little cherry juice. Yum!

Technorati Tags: cherry limeade slushie,ice cream icee,fun things to do with your ice cream maker

A Family Tradition

2011-08-01T21:01:08Z

When I was growing up, I used to find my dad like this all the time. He was constantly reading and he was never a night owl, so it was common to find him, either on the couch or in his bed, fast asleep with a book open on his chest. This is how I found Gracie last night and I’m sure that Steve has found me this way on more than one occasion. It is a family tradition that I am happy to pass on to my girls. I hope that in a couple of years, I’ll find Abigail this way, too. I don’t think there’s any better way to fall asleep than in the middle of a good book!

Despicable Daddy Party

2011-07-08T16:56:22Z

I think I’ve mentioned a time or two that I adore my husband. Really, I do. And not just in the “gosh I love this man because he puts up with my insane ideas and we’ve been together forever so we can finish each other’s sentences” totally comfortable but not so exciting kind of way. I also love him in the “he makes my heart do flip-flops and his kisses turn my knees to jelly” first crush kind of way. You wouldn’t know that I love him at all, though, based on the amount of attention I give Father’s Day and his birthday.

I think I’ve mentioned before that Steve’s birthday and Father’s Day generally fall within a couple of days of each other. And, somehow, I manage to always be in the middle of some kind of work or personal crisis during those days. I barely even said “Happy Father’s Day” to Steve on his very first Father’s Day because I was behind the 8-ball on a HUGE software development contract. I hope that I make up for my wifely horridness on other days like our anniversary and Christmas and Valentine’s Day. And, I hope, truly, that I show him every day, in little ways, exactly how important he is to me.

This year, I elevated my slackness to a new level. The girls and I weren’t even home for his birthday or Father’s Day. Really, I think he has ample grounds for leaving me and taking everything I own…wait, all I own is an 8-year-old van that sounds like it has bronchitis and a slew of craft supplies. I haven’t made up for Father’s Day yet, but I think the girls and I did a pretty good job of making up for the missed birthday this past Sunday.

Steve isn’t easy to shop for (he disagrees with this, but I stand firm in my believe that it’s easier to just tell him to go buy what he wants than to guess if I’m buying the correct shape of watch or right color of shoes). So, rather than shower him with gifts that he may or may night like, we decided to have a family birthday party for him.

Now, please remember that my husband turned 41 this year. So, it seemed totally appropriate to me that we would throw him a party that would be perfect for a preschooler. To my credit, Steve LOVES Despicable Me. Like in a cult classic way (and I can appreciate that, having been to more than one midnight showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show). I’m sure that he could probably recite the entire dialog of the film – that is if he could stop laughing long enough to talk. I’d venture a guess that Despicable Me is one of his favorite movies of all time. So, when I saw these ideas for a Despicable Me party at PluckyMomo a few months ago, I knew that the girls and I had to create a party like this for Steve. And, I’m not sure who had fun…Steve, the girls, or me!

I think my favorite part of the evening was Abigail running around the back yard hugging her stuffed unicorn screaming “It’s so fluffy! It’s so fluffy, I’m gonna DIE!” just like Agnes did in the movie.

It was a great evening of minion bowling, eating stuffed crust pizza and cupcakes, shooting aliens, drinking shark punch, playing Pin The Goggles on the Minion and finally reading Sleepy Kitten (I happened upon the book at Amazon by sheer luck. I’m so glad I did – it was the perfect ending to the party!)

I hope Steve knows that despite our craziness, all three of his girls love him!

Technorati Tags: Despicable Me Birthday Party