Post office woes

I remember one time, before I had Benjamin, I overheard a couple of young women in the checkout line at Target. There was a baby a few aisles over who was crying and his mother was trying to comfort him. She was unable to quiet him, but it really was not a disruption to my shopping trip. The girls behind me, however, complained , "Why would you bring a baby to Target". So ridiculous. It's not like the child was throwing a full-fledged tantrum or like the mother was doing nothing about it. I remember thinking that there just might come a day when those girls have a 3 month old child who cries at the store or the restaurant or the auto shop. Well, I hope those girls weren't at the post office the other day because if they were they would have had plenty to mumble about.

If you have been to the post office at any point the week prior to Christmas, you know that there are long lines and perhaps a few crabby people. I usually try to avoid such places when I'm lugging around my bundle of energy and squeals, but this week I could not, at least not if I wanted our mail to get delivered in time for Christmas. Benjamin is such a good, happy little boy that sometimes I try to get by with doing things like taking him to a busy post office right before his nap time. Every once in a while I'm reminded that even good little boys have their limits. Here's how it went down....I hauled Ben out of the car, carrying him and pushing the stroller which I planned to set him in once we got inside from the cold. We managed to make our way through the doors and the lines were crazy, of course. I promptly set down my bag and packages and put Benjamin in his stroller....well I tried to put him in his stroller. He did that thing that toddlers do when they don't want to sit, or lay, or stand up for you. You know. The thing where they screech, arch their back, throw their arms directly above their heads and become dead weight. That thing. I tried again. He arched again. The line moved. I picked up my things, moved the stroller and followed our place in line. I gave him a toy and tried to set him in the stroller again. Same thing. Line moved. We moved. I gave him a snack and tried again. Well, you know what he did. By this point I was sweating in my down coat and we had collected a bit of an audience. I'm sure some people were chuckling and some were rolling their eyes. I would normally remove my cranky kid from situations like this, but hello, Christmas packages will not be delivered before Christmas if they are not sent before Christmas. So I held Ben....all 24 pounds of him. I held him, stood in line forever, pushed the stroller around, operated the post office kiosk and fed Benjamin snacks with my free hand. By the time we were finished it was nap time for both of us. Not my easiest errand of the week, but I prevailed and got a bit of a workout. I hope our audience was amused.

Most wonderful time of the year.

 

Benjamin spends time each day "reading" Christmas cards

I love, love, love Christmastime. I love the snow (even though we haven't had much of that this year). I love the sweets, the pretty paper, the lights, giving gifts and spending time with family and friends. I love watching Benjamin gaze at the Christmas tree in wonder and pour over our basket of Christmas cards. And I love that the reason that we participate in all of our Christmas traditions is to celebrate that unto us a Savior was born. I just want to sing my little heart out every time a hear a carol that tells of the birth of Jesus. There is joy in my heart as I think about the gift God has given to us....the most wonderful gift that I have ever received.

Merry Christmas!

Shortcuts are not always shortcuts.

I have had a little bit more going on this week than I typically do with a handful of sub jobs and several other obligations. As a result I got a little behind on my house work and have been trying to play catch up the past couple of days. I seriously don't know how working moms keep up with everything on a regular basis. Anyway, I usually wait until Benjamin is sleeping to take care of some jobs like cleaning the bathroom or the floors, but when I realized that he was completely enthralled with depositing Cheerios into a bowl, dumping them on his tray, depositing and dumping over and over again, I decided to take advantage of the fact that he was confined to his chair by sweeping and mopping the house....it's been driving me crazy.

He was such a little sweetheart and playing so nicely while I swept and mopped the kitchen and bathroom and dining/living room that I decided I would just finish the job by taking care of the stairs and entry way too. When I got there I realized that the sack of diapers I meant to throw away was still sitting on the steps but I didn't want to trod down the steps to throw it away because Benjamin was starting to get a little restless in his highchair. I determined that the most efficient way to finish my cleaning and take care of the diapers at the same time would be to drop the sack over the stair railing. I tossed the bag over the edge. POP! Oops. Oh well. The bag was headed for the trash outside anyway and I was saving at least 60 seconds. I figured the sack had just popped a bit and I wasn't too concerned about it. I continued to make my way down the stairs, quickly sweeping as I talked to Benjamin who continued to play with his bowl 'o Cheerios, although he was getting antsy. It wasn't until I got to the landing and turned the corner that I realized the pop was not the result of a hole in the diaper sack as much as it was diaper explosion. No time saved here. The bag had burst open completely and there were diapers everywhere. I'll spare you the disgusting details, but I will say it's a good thing I planned on mopping.

I used to tell my students who tried to take shortcuts on their work only to have to do it all over again that they should make an effort to do their best the first time around because they really weren't saving any time in the long run. Guess I should heed my own advice, even if it is over a dirty sack of diapers.

What's New

Our days are filled with activities, big and small. Here are a few of the things Benjamin has been up to lately. He is such a little ham. Please disregard my messy house and annoying commentary during videos. Thank you.

Peekaboo

Basketball

Climbing

How deep the Love

I am an emotional creature and can be moved to tears quite easily. I will cry because I'm happy just as often as I'll cry because I'm sad. My husband, Jeff, can attest to that. Don't get me wrong. I don't cry at Hallmark commercials or anything (not that there's anything wrong with that), but a sad movie or happy occasion will often get the better of me. There have been many times when I've been moved to tears by the love I feel for my husband. He'll say, "What's the matter? Are you okay?" and I'll sniffle back, "Yes, I just love you so much." Or sometimes when I'm watching Benjamin play or I'm rocking him before bed or listening to him babble as he walks around the house I get caught up in the joy that he brings to our lives. The love I have for Jeff and Benjamin runs deep, I cannot see an end to it.

This morning as I sang to Ben before his nap I was looking at his sweet face and stroking his soft, fine hair and thinking how blessed I am to have such an amazing husband and our precious son. My eyes welled up with tears and I was overwhelmed with the amount of love I feel for them both. In these moments I gain an understanding of how much my Father must love me. My God, the Creator of the universe and all of it's wonders, loves me even more than I could ever possibly love my husband and child in my limited human capacity. God's love for me, and all of His children, is beyond compare. When I give pause to it, His love baffles me. I cannot fathom it. It is immeasurable. So I will just bask in it.

How Deep the Father's Love for Us
http://youtu.be/1vmY2ztb5xc

Halloween: It's not about trick-or-treating....it's about survival.

I loved my job as a teacher, but there are a few days each school year when I'm glad I'm not running crowd control in the classroom. Today is one of those days. Also on the list are the day before Christmas vacation, Valentine's Day and the last day of school. I'm no scrooge (well, that's not entirely true), but something happens to children on these days and teachers don't get much teaching done because they are too busy herding little people about the school. The little sweethearts we know and love morph into wild-eyed, sugar-seeking, party-crazed wild things. It's true. Don't believe me? Ask any elementary teacher. Of course there are always exceptions to the rule. Some little darlings remain little darlings in spite of parties, full moons, fire drills, field trips, etc.. Nothing rattles their continence. But for a majority of youngsters self-control does not come quite so easily, especially on days like today. So this Halloween I am glad to be out of the classroom and happy to spend the day at home with my little goblin and our little goblin puppy. Best of luck, dear teachers.

How to make the most of a call night....if you're not the one on call.

Believe me when I say I would much, much rather spend a night at home with my husband than by myself. I know some women would love a quiet night home alone, and there are times when I find myself enjoying my alone time more than I anticipated I would, but I always prefer to have Jeff at home with me and Ben.  The novelty of eating what I want for dinner and watching what I want on TV or going wherever I want wore off after about his 4th night of call. But I have learned how to make the most Jeff's ridiculous work schedule because the alternative is, well, sitting around pining for my husband and waiting for life to go on when he gets home from work. Here's what I've come up with for a successful night alone:

1. Eat whatever you want. My go to meals are cereal or peanut butter toast.

2. Go someplace you enjoy. I like to go on Target runs.

3. Enjoy the outdoors. Today I took Osa and Ben for a nice afternoon walk.

4. Find a hobby. Currently mine is knitting. Scrapbooking, exercise and baking have also been favorites (although the whole exercise thing has sort of gone by the wayside now that my little buddy occupies most of my day).

5. Make plans with a friend in the same boat every so often. Misery love company :)

6. Go on a field trip to the hospital...if it's not too hectic at work for your spouse that is. Before Benjamin came along I used to love visiting Jeff at work, especially if we could meet during dinner. Eating alone for every meal during the day can get a little old. It broke the day up for me, and for him too I think. Now that I have my little guy tagging along with me we make our visit between dinnertime and bedtime. Benjamin lights up when we visit his daddy and Jeff always jumps right in to give him some attention.

7. Boot up Netflix or Hulu and stay up late watching shows, some ridiculous perhaps, that your spouse may not enjoy as much as you do.

8. Turn the heat to whatever temperature you like. I've got my thermostat set about 4 degrees higher than we have it when Jeff is home and the electric blanket is set on high. Cozy.

9. Do something nice for your spouse. I know that if I were putting in 30 hour days (how is that even possible?) I would feel so loved by anything my husband did on my behalf. It doesn't have to be anything big....perhaps baking their favorite cookies, putting away their laundry or mowing the lawn...and they don't even have to notice that you've done it. It just feels good to know that you have loved them while they were gone.

10. Lastly, don't despise your spouse's work or long hours no matter how easy those feelings may come. Remember that part of the reason that you admire your spouse is because of their drive and passion for their work. Don't take their absence personally. I'm pretty sure it's safe to say that most people who work 30 hour shifts would much prefer a 9-5 schedule. I have to remind myself that Jeff's not choosing to work crazy hours. His career demands it, but he loves his career so it's worth it. It makes me happy to know that.

There you have it. Now have a nice, quiet night alone because tomorrow night you'll be cooking dinner and watching an action movie.

Copycat....or dog.

Benjamin loves, loves, loves his puppy. He likes to greet her in the morning with some pets and hugs. He enjoys digging and splashing in her doggy dishes. Osa and Ben entertain one another with games of Tug O' War and Follow the Leader...and by follow the leader I mean Benjamin follows Osa around the house while she tries to find a quiet spot away from him or Osa follows Benjamin around the house while he eats his snacks. These two are becoming best little buddies and I get such a kick out of watching them together each day. Well I'm afraid that Benjamin may admire Osa a little too much. He seems to do things just the way that she does them. For instance I've seen him laying on her doggy bed, climbing in her kennel, ringing her doggy bell, trying to eat her food and so on. Yesterday he picked up a new little habit of hers...eating off of the floor. Now my child has eaten things off of the floor before. Don't judge me. You know that your kids have too, and if you don't have kids yet they'll do the same thing one day. But when I say eating off the floor I don't just mean picking food up and putting it in his mouth. No, no. That would be a normal toddler behavior in my opinion. I mean that Benjamin dropped his Kix on the floor, got on his hands and knees, and then proceeded to put his little face to the floor until he was close enough to pick the cereal up with his mouth....just like Osa. Next thing I know he'll be scratching at his ears with his feet. Let's just hope he doesn't take to greeting his friends with a friendly sniff, if you know what I mean.

*Photo from about a year ago when Ben was just 6 weeks old.

Grandma's pumpkin cookies

One of my favorite things about fall is heating up the oven to whip up some baked goods and take the chill out of the house. I suppose I turn the oven to bake and 375* a little more often then I should, but I can't help myself sometimes. Today I made up one of my favorite recipes from my sweet Grandma R. If you haven't had your fill of pumpkin goodies this fall and your house feels chilly, these cookies may do the trick.

Grandma R's pumpkin cookies
1 cup pumpkin
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup shortening
1 cup dates (optional)
nuts (optional)
1 tsp vanilla
1tsp soda
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp cinnamon
2 cups flour

Cream shortening and sugar together. Add pumpkin and vanilla. Mix well. In a separate bowl mix dry ingredients. Combine both mixtures. Stir in dates and nuts if desired (I prefer adding dates and nuts, but the cookies are good without too).

Bake @375 for 8 minutes

Icing
2 cups powdered sugar
pinch of salt
1 tsp vanilla
2 tablespoons butter
hot water (until desired thickness)

Pumpkin dip for apples

We have great neighbors. Seriously. Great neighbors. And not just one household of nice people, but several. They're the kind of neighbors that bring rhubarb and tomatoes, that shovel the sidewalk and take down garbage cans when you're out of town, and that give friendly hellos and conversation when you're out in the yard. Our neighborhood is one of the things that I'm going to miss when we move next summer.

One of our sweet neighbors brought us a treat last weekend....apples and pumpkin dip. It was so simple but so, so good. Of course it helps that the apples they brought us were honeycrisp and came straight from an orchard, but the dip was really good too. I've already made up another batch for the apples we picked up at the orchard the other day. If you like pumpkin flavored goodies try this dip. It's great with apples, but I think it would be yummy with cinnamon chips or graham crackers or as frosting.

1 8oz container Cool Whip
1 can pumpkin
1 package vanilla pudding (unprepared)
1 tablespoon pumpkin pie spice
*Whip together until fluffy

A knight, a princess and a dragon.

A few of Jeff's coworkers hosted a pre-Halloween Halloween party with some really yummy food including butternut squash bisque and pumpkin monkey bread. The food was fabulous and the company was fun, especially since people were decked out in individual and family costumes. There was a pirate, and Star Wars family (princess Leah played by the father and Darth Vader by the mom = pretty darn funny) and many others. I already had a costume for Benjamin, purchased on clearance and with a coupon to boot last November. When the invitation said costumes encouraged we decided to have a little fun with it. I made Jeff a knight get-up out of felt, duct tape and foil candy wrappers and made my princess skirt with some pink tulle and some more pink tulle.

So here is my little family, my Happily Ever After. Jeff suggested that our back story should include him rescuing me from a terrible dragon only to find it had a baby dragon which we then took in for our very own. Pretty sweet, don't you think?

You know why they call them hard-boiled eggs?

I love deviled eggs. Love them. I hate making them, but only because of the peeling. I never know what's going to happen from one egg to the next. I peel one egg and it looks perfect. Then I peel another egg and it looks like garbage. There doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to it. Sometimes you get lucky and sometimes you don't. When I get lucky I think to myself, "Okay, I have to remember the exact circumstances under which this egg was cooked/cooled/cracked/etc." Then I peel the next egg and realize that the first egg was just a little white and yellow miracle. So I usually end up boiling extra eggs and use the ugliest ones for egg salad while using the decent ones for their desired purpose. I feel like I've tried it all...cold water, warm water, baking soda, rolling, shaking, room temperature eggs, old eggs, cracking the shell all over, blowing, praying. Nothing seems to work, and that is why they call them hard-boiled eggs....because they are boiled but they are hard to peel. Since posting about my egg-peeling woes on Facebook I've received a few more tips. I have to admit that when I read the suggestions I may have scoffed a bit (sorry friends, you were sweet to offer help), but frankly I had already given up the cause. That is until my neighbor friend gave me the perfectly cooked and peel-able hard-boiled egg guarantee. So I put all of my eggs in one pot and gave it a shot and what do you know???? It worked! I peeled an egg, then another, then another until they were all peeled and in perfect condition. She has forever revolutionized my egg making.

Here's the secret. Steam your eggs. Get a basket steamer. Put some cold water in a pot. Place the eggs in the basket. Put a lid on it. Turn on the burner and set the timer for 18 minutes. Peel. Done.

Now give me some candy...

Have you ever seen Adam Sandler's cheap Halloween costume idea sketch from Weekend Update on SNL?  I got a bucket on my head. I'm crazy bucket-head. Now give me some candy. I have...thankfully.

Benjamin is not the easiest child during diaper changes. Ever since he started crawling you just never know what you're going to get on that changing table. Sometimes he lays nicely and is just the most perfect little boy. Other times he turns into this freakishly strong Hulk of a toddler who flips around in the blink of an eye. I'm not exactly sure how a 23 pound person can out-maneuver and strong-arm a (I'm not disclosing my weight) grown woman, but somehow Benjamin manages to muster enough strength and speed to make diaper changes last for what seems like an eternity. By the end of those changes we are both in a sweat and we both need a hug. Jeff and I have discovered a few tricks that involve singing, dancing, zerberts and so on (this is where I came up with "What's New Poopy Pants" ala Tom Jones). It's like the Cooper comedy hour every time we go to the changing table. Most of the time we can find something to distract Benjamin or entertain him for the duration, but every once in a while he tires of our usual tricks and we have to think up something new in a hurry.

About a week ago I was trying to change Ben's diaper. I say trying because we were mostly just wrestling one another. In a moment of desperation I grabbed a bottle of lotion that was nearby, put it atop my head and said in my most animated bucket-head voice, "I've got a bottle on my head. I'm crazy bottle-head lady. Now give me some candy." Ben laughed. I did it again and he laughed harder. And so I continued to come up with variations as I changed his diaper and all the while he laid perfectly still, smiling and giggling. So now every time I change him I come up with as many cheap Halloween costumes as I can. Usually Benjamin provides me with a few ideas.

I've got a sock for a hand. I'm crazy sock-hand. Now give me some candy.

I've got a diaper on my booty. I'm crazy diaper-booty. Now give me some candy.

I've got some snot on my face. I'm crazy snot-face man. Now give me some candy.

I just can't wait to see how people respond to our little act the next time I have to change a diaper in the Target restroom. "I've got a paper towel for a face. I'm crazy paper towel-face. Now give me some candy."

We're calling it.

We have a walker. Ben took his first step just a little over a week ago. This was him last night. All night. All over the house. Forget about crawling. That was so yesterday...literally.

The Haircut.

Today was the day. I finally worked up the courage to cut Benjamin's hair. I almost hated to do it because the poor guy doesn't have much and it is so very fine. He's been working on growing the little bit of hair that he does have for well over a year now. It felt a little wrong to cut off any of it, but it had to be done. Every time he was out in the wind his comb-over became quite evident and it seems to me that comb-overs, even atop the cutest of babies, are just wrong.

Here is a before picture. As you can see Benjamin had sort of let himself go.

Here are the essential haircut items I used. 

And the final result....a happy customer.

The haircut turned out fine (I think - we shall see what Ben's hair styling auntie has to say about that), and the $10 shears I purchased have already paid for themselves. Now it's time to play!

What died in here?

Off and on for the past week or so Jeff and I have been grossed out by the smell of our family car. Some days we'd get in and wouldn't notice anything. Other days we'd accuse each other of, well you know, fluffing in the car. But the odor came and went, came and went several times over. We thought perhaps it was from the banana that was accidentally smooshed into the floor mat or that we had left a dirty diaper in the back from our camping trip (we used the back of the Rav for a few diaper changes....classy, I know). Then today, after some thought and investigation I came to the realization that I was at fault for the foul smells that we smelled. You see, I take Benjamin and Osa for a walk most mornings and most mornings Osa does a little jobby (I know, I've been writing a lot about puppy and baby potty happenings lately...welcome to my world). Well after Osa is done with her job, I pick up after her, as all good citizens should do. I use thick plastic odor resistant bags, tie them up and look for the nearest garbage can which happens to be the one located by our garage most days. Apparently I had forgotten to toss Osa's bag of stuff when we got home and left it in the basket located in the undercarriage of the stroller. Don't judge me because I put poo-poo in my child's stroller....it's in a sealed bag for goodness sake and it's not like I make Benjamin ride down there. I'm not sure just how long that particular bag sat in the stroller, but the stroller was loaded and unloaded from the back of the car several times which is why the aroma came and went, came and went. So there you have it. It was my fault, but now that the bag has been tossed I can go back to blaming Ben and Jeff for any other suspicious scents that may arise.

Kids these days...

Hope somebody teaches this kid some manners before he goes to Kindergarten...

How an undiapered baby can find a new use for an air vent...

Well Benjamin has had a bit of a diaper rash this week, and by the looks of most of his diapers I can't say I'm surprised. Not sure if he's having trouble because he's switching to cow's milk or because he is teething, but things have been busy at his changing table. The other night we decided to let Ben roam the house, how shall I say this, uninhibited to give his skin a chance dry out. He was out there and loving every minute of it. Up and down the hallway with his walker he went. I'm not exactly sure how long he went about the house in his birthday suit, but it was for quite some time because I remember thinking that he should probably get his diaper back on before he used the floor as his own personal toilet. It was not too long after that thought crossed my mind that I heard Jeff say something about going potty. Sure enough, Benjamin had crawled over to our picture window, stood up to give the neighbors a show, and proceeded to tinkle into the air vent. Fantastic. Pretty good aim for a one-year-old, I will give him that. I just hope that we aren't reminded of his little exhibition every time we turn on the heat and the warm air blasts through the aforementioned potty vent.

Doggy Duties

Osa, Osa, Osa. I love my puppy, quirks and all. She's darling and she brings a lot of joy to our house. I find some of her behaviors very amusing....

...the way she rings her bell to go outside only to turn right around and come back inside the house for a treat

...how she shakes with excitement when she sees a squirrel in the grass out back and then charges him at just the right moment

...when she goes crazy running circles in the backyard or on the carpet in the basement

...her digger-dog ritual where she goes into her kennel and digs her little heart out when she's frustrated

But one of her little quirks, although quite amusing, has entered the realm of totally ridiculous. Osa is very particular about where she does her job during our walks...you know, the big job. I don't know what exactly she is looking or sniffing for, but it has to be a matter of great importance the way she approaches it. Walk, sniff, walk, circle, sniff, walk, walk, walk, sniff, sniff, circle, walk, sniff. I'm sorry to even be bringing this  subject up (not really), but just the other day she was so insistent on finding the most perfect place for her duties that she frantically walked and circled and sniffed for a good 3 blocks before she finally, you know, made her deposit. No kidding. THREE blocks! Now I know that dogs like to find just the right place for these kinds of things, and I can't really blame them. I suppose it's akin to using an outhouse versus your own personal bathroom. But really, Osa, don't you think you're being a little bit of a princess? Three blocks of grass before you were able to find a spot that was good enough for your stuff? I hate to break it to you, pup, but your poo is just not that special. Any spot will do for your doo-doo.

Oh, I see how it is.

I will probably regret it, but I'm going to give Benjamin his first haircut...at home...without the help of a trained professional. Yes, I am one of those mothers who is going to try to save a buck at the expense of my child's hair. I figure Benjamin was nearly bald for a good portion of his life, so even a bad haircut would leave him with more hair than he'll know what to do with. I'll try to trim just a little at a time so that if it looks really terrible I can still bring him in to the salon and have them fix it. I'm sure it will be fine. I do have some experience in this arena. I cut my bangs and the dog's hair too and I've only messed those jobs up a few times. Osa never seemed to have much psychological damage from the experience, so I'm sure Ben would handle a bad haircut just as well.

I'm on the hunt for some scissors now. Even though I'm not a pro, I've decided not to use the scissors from the junk drawer for Ben's haircut. I can be pretty cheap, but it seems wrong to use the same scissors that cut out boxtops for his hair so I stopped by a beauty supply store this morning. I unloaded Benjamin from his car seat and lugged him into the shop. When I walked up to the front counter there were 3 girls standing behind it, all dressed in cute clothes, all made up. I did not receive a smile or a hello or a "how can I help you?" from any of them. I decided to start the whole customer service exchange by saying, "I'd like to buy some shears. Could you help me find some?" to which one girl replied, "We're wholesale and we only sell to licensed cosmetologists and stylists." How did she know that I wasn't?!?!? I used the word shears for crying out loud. That doesn't sound like the kind of word a licensed professional would use? So how could she assume that I was not? Oh, I see how it is. Yeah, okay, so I hadn't showered, my hair was in a pony and there was no make-up on my face...my baby's nose was running and I'm pretty sure he had just rubbed it on my shirt when I got him out of the car, but there's no way she could have definitively known that I wasn't a licensed professional. I simply held my head high and asked, "Do you know of a place in town where I could purchase shears (yep, I used it again)?" She looked down her nose at me as she muttered the name "Sally's". She said it with such disdain it's as if  the name left a bad taste in her mouth. "Thanks for your time," I replied as I walked out the door. And thanks for the tip. I will go to Sally's. I will go to Sally's, the place that welcomes unkempt stay-at-home moms who are trying to save a buck. I will go to Sally's and spend my money there, and when my son is rockin' his super sweet new hairdo and everybody asks me where I bought my scissors I will say "Sally's" and they will all go there too. Deal with it.

Cake and candy and birthdays, oh my!

One of my great joys growing up was when my mom made my birthday cake. She had a cake pan in the shape of a doll. Each year my birthday cake was made to order. I got to choose what kind of candy I wanted for the doll's hair, eyes, nose, mouth, buttons, etc. It was always long licorice for her hair, sometimes black and sometimes red. Spice drops, red hots, jelly beans, skittles, and all sorts of other yummy goodies. I have the fondest memories of watching and helping my mom with the cake and eating it too. I'm not sure why the doll cake created such fun, but it did and when I had Benjamin I knew I'd want to start a fun birthday tradition for him too.I saw this cake pan when I was at a kitchen store with my sister-in-law and loved it immediately. It's no doll, but Ben's more of a train guy anyway. I put it on my Christmas wish list and his Grandma C got it for us. I've been eagerly anticipating making this cake for my sweet boy, so much so that I actually did a practice round today. Yes, I'm that girl. I'm the girl who is so excited about baking and decorating and celebrating my boy that I had to have a little pre-birthday trial run. It was such a blast to do just this little bit of the cake and I cannot wait to make the whole train for my big Ben's birthday. It's hard to believe that a year with my baby has come and gone already and we'll be celebrating his first birthday in just a few days. But believe or not here it comes. I have mixed emotions of excitement to celebrate Ben and sadness to realize that time with him is going more quickly than I'd like it too. The good news is all of his birthdays will come with built in comfort food...cake and candy. Oh my...

You know you're a scaredy cat when a movie preview keeps you up at night.

I don't even really like cats so I hate to compare myself to one, but there's really no other way to put it. I am a scaredy-cat. I do not like scary movies. Well really it's not so much that I don't like scary movies as much as they disturb me for days after watching them. I used to be able to watch any movie at any time of day and never be bothered (I once watched Silence of the Lambs by myself late at night). But now for some reason those movies get to me. They're just unsettling even though I realize that the chance that I'm going to encounter a serial killer or a vampire or any other such antagonist in my lifetime is small or even impossible. Doesn't matter though. They still bother me. So when Jeff and I watch a scary movie we have to plan accordingly. He has to be home for at least the next 2 nights and we have to start the movie early enough in the evening so that we can play a little Mario or something before going to sleep. We also have a deal going where he tells me when I should open and close my eyes. I'm sure most people would say I'm missing all the "good" parts doing this, but I'd rather close my eyes during the movie so that I can close my eyes when it's time to sleep. Ridiculous, I know, but I cannot help myself. I was not prepared for what happened tonight though. Unfortunately a preview for the movie Don't Be Afraid of the Dark came on while I was watching TV, alone, late, after dark. Jeff isn't here to tell me to close my eyes and he'll will be at the hospital all night and there's nobody to play Mario with before bed. And now the house is making creepy noises and every time I hear an acorn drop onto the roof it makes me jump. To make matters worse the movie title is sitting there on my brain, mocking me. Don't Be Afraid of the Dark. The thing is I wouldn't be afraid of the dark tonight if I hadn't seen the preview for Don't Be Afraid of the Dark. Stupid scary previews with stupid mocking titles.

So happy together!

Benjamin loves to see his daddy come home after a long shift. He hadn't seen Jeff for nearly 24 hours yesterday morning, but they shared some guy time before they both went down for a nap. Wrestling, racing and other shenanigans were all part of the fun. Benjamin really enjoys his new car that he got from Grandma and Grandpa B as an early birthday gift. He's been having a rip-roarin' good time with his new toy, especially when his daddy races him. He hasn't figured out how to ride it yet, but he has become very proficient at pushing it (a skill which will come in handy if he runs out of gas some day). He is working on making car noises now. Here are some videos of Ben's guy time with Jeff.

Busy racing Daddy...and falling over...and getting up to finish the race...


But not so busy that he couldn't stop to show off his latest skill of standing by himself...


And finally getting tuckered out...

Seriously mom, I'm almost one.

When Benjamin was first born up until about he was about 6 months old he was a very spitty baby. I'm not exaggerating when I say that I had to change his outfit 3-5 times a day, and I usually had to change mine more than once a day too. It was terrible. No burp cloth could contain this child's explosions. I don't want to be gross here but the words projectile and gushing come to mind. Then once he started solids his tummy seemed to settle down little by little until eventually (probably about a month or so ago) I no longer felt the need to have a burp cloth handy at all times. I can remember how excited I was the first time Ben was able to wear the same outfit for an entire day. It was wonderful to cut back on doing so much laundry and I was even more pleased with the fact that I didn't have to try to keep Ben or Osa from playing in the little pools spit-up that he deposited around the house. Life was a lot less messy, for a while anyway. Benjamin has recently decided that he no longer needs my help while eating. He's been eating finger foods for a time now, but just this past weekend he thought he should take over spoon duty and he's quite insistent that he feed himself all on his own. He practically lunges at his bowl and spoon during mealtimes. And don't even think about taking his spoon away. He suddenly cannot seem to let go of it. I thought I'd try to contain the mess and shorten mealtimes by giving him a spoon to experiment with while feeding him with another. He likes to have both spoons. When I take one back he squawks at me as if to say, "Seriously mom, I'm almost one. I'm not a baby anymore." Okay buddy, you're big boy, but look at you...don't you think you could use a little help? It's fun to watch him learn how to maneuver the spoon just so and to see him become a little boy. But I have to admit I wouldn't mind spoon feeding him a bit longer just so I wouldn't have to go back to mountains of baby, excuse me, little boy laundry. I'm having a hard time understanding how he manages to get the food all over his bumper and up his shorts while he eats his dinner. Oh well, he doesn't seem to mind the mess, and neither does Osa. She's never eaten so good.

If you forget about it, you can forget about it.

Recently I bought two beautiful zucchinis at a local market. I had plans to cook some up for Ben and to make bread out of the rest. I had lots of plans for lots of fruits and veggies that I picked up that week...peach sauce and applesauce for Ben, steamed veggies for a chicken dinner, etc. Since I had stocked up and had a lot of pealing, chopping, steaming to do I set the zucchini aside with plans to get to it the next day. Then we had company. Then Jeff had a few days off. Then I forgot. I forgot that I had put the zucchini on top of the fridge and had left them in a plastic bag. And I kept forgetting, until tonight that is. I saw that plastic bag on top of the fridge and I knew. I knew that my beautiful squash would no longer be usable. What I didn't realize was that when I lifted the bag down from the fridge my gag reflex would be activated by a bag of sloppy, soupy zucchini mush. It was seriously one of the most disgusting food disasters I have ever encountered. I'm assuming most of us have forgotten about a container of food in the fridge for a little too long or have had that loaf of bread that's been hanging around longer than we care to admit, but this was one of the more grotesque food dilemmas I have experienced. I'll spare you any further details about the appearance, transport and disposal of the zucchini mush, but I will give you this tidbit of knowledge. If you purchase zucchini, no matter how perfect, and you leave it in a plastic sack on top of the warm refrigerator and you forget about it, then you can forget about it. Gross.

Anti back to school days.

It was not so long ago that I dreaded these days...back to school. I'm not going to lie to you. I prefer not working over working, summer vacation over school days and generally not being responsible to anyone other than my family. It's not that I don't like teaching. I do. Teaching was a great fit for me. I got to spend time with children, and I like children. I was given an outlet for creativity through instruction. I worked with a great bunch of people (seriously great people - I can't even express how amazing my coworkers were). And truly it was fun watching kids learn, mature, and get excited about things like learning a new skill or a silly song or goofy game. Even though I liked my job I looked forward to summer vacation and hated to see it come to an end. I think most teachers experience the same thing. But there was a sense of excitement and fun at the beginning of the school year that I enjoyed. I always thought it was fun to reconnect with work buddies and get to know the kids and come up with new ideas for the classroom. Now that I'm not on the school scene anymore I feel a little nostalgic as I reminisce about how fun my job was. But not to worry. Those feelings will dissipate the next time I see a misbehaving child at the store.

Have you seen a baby lift weights? I have.

I'm always on the lookout for new toys. I think the reason is that we spend a lot of time at home, Benjamin and I, and you can only play with the same toys for so long before little eyes start to wander towards things like the stereo or the PS3 or the antique lamp. It always seems like new toys provide a little extra distraction for busy Ben and allow me to get a few things done around the house. They may even give me the opportunity to go to the bathroom or eat lunch. The other reason I like looking for new toys may or may not have something to do with the fact that I like to shop. People have been telling me that babies are just as happy playing with an empty box as they are playing with the expensive toy that came inside said box. I have found that to be true many times. Benjamin has played with and inside of his fair share of empty boxes. He's played with my pots and pans, empty food containers (today it was the Hershey's cocoa container that occupied Ben while I baked brownies), water bottles, and much, much more. But no matter what interesting little doodads I give to Benjamin he has a knack for getting into the things he's not supposed to. The other day it was my small hand weights. I hide them behind Osa's doggy bed. He found them. I hid them. He found them. I hid them. He found them. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. At first I didn't think he should have them since he might pinch a finger or something, but he is a persistent little thing, and I hate to admit it...he wore me down. I know. I know. It might just be hand weights today, but before I know it I'll be battling with him over homework and curfews and the like. Don't worry. I'm giving Benjamin his fair share of guidance and correction. I'm a teacher after all. There's plenty of control freakishness going on around this joint. Just ask my husband. Besides after seeing how much he loved playing with the weights, lifting them and pushing them around the floor, I decided it would make a pretty cute picture. And really, who am I to dissuade my child from healthful physical activity? Also, it kept him out of the no-no's for at least 10 minutes, and let's face it, 10 minutes is a lot of time in baby world.

How an innocent comment can bring out the junior high school boy in nearly every man.

Buns! Oh my goodness, you have not had a good bun until you have eaten one of these. I know that I should probably call them rolls in an effort to eliminate any confusion as to whether I am referencing buns or buns (you know what I mean). I think the original came from my grandma, but my dad has tweaked this amazing recipe for the rolls pictured above. Not kidding, the sweetest, softest, best rolls I have ever eaten. He shared the recipe with me and now I make them quite regularly for gatherings with friends or just for our daily bread. Every time I've made them they are gone in a flash. There was one particular time that our company enjoyed the rolls and a good laugh. During that meal everybody was saying how good the buns were and I went on and on saying things like "I know, my dad's buns are so soft" and "My dad has the best buns". I didn't even realize what I was saying until all of the guys starting giggling like a bunch of junior high school boys. By the time Jeff clued me in to what they were laughing at I had probably made at least a half dozen comments about my dad's buns...soft, fluffy, sweet, etc. Now that I know how juvenile males, even grown men, can be about "buns" I try to use more discretion when it comes to word choice. But the joke continues. Recently we had some friends over and Jeff was sure to tell them the story while I was out of the room and encouraged them to compliment me on my soft, fluffy buns. Oh well, I guess I'd rather have people joking about my buns than my rolls.

Daddy's Roll Recipe

Combine 2tsp dried yeast, 1/2 tsp sugar and 1/2 cup of warm water in a large glass. Set aside.

In a sauce pan heat 1/3 cup of shortening, 1 cup milk and 1 tbsp honey (my dad uses 2% milk but I've used skim and it works fine too). Heat to 180 degrees.

Meanwhile in a large bowl beat one egg. Add ie1 tsp salt and 1/3 cup sugar.

When the milk and honey mixture reaches 180 degrees add it to the egg mixture. Allow the contents to cool until the temperature has lowered to 80 degrees. Stir occasionally. For rapid cooling set bowl in cold water.

While this is cooling sift 4 1/2 cups of flour.

After the milk and egg mixture has cooled to the desired temperature add the yeast mixture and stir together. Then stir in all but 1/2 cup of the flour with a wooden spoon. You may have to use your hands to mix the dough well.

Knead the dough for about 7 minutes adding the reserved 1/2 cup of flour as you do so. The dough should not stick to your hands and should spring back after it has been properly kneaded. My dad does this by hand. I use my Kitchenaid mixer. You can find tips on YouTube for either method.

Grease a bowl. Place dough inside. Cover (I use a hand towel) and allow to rise for about 1 hour. Punch dough down to remove air. Allow to rise for another hour. Form dough into balls about the size of a golf ball (larger for hamburger buns) Place on greased cookie sheet. Allow to rise once more.

Preheat oven to 330-350 degrees (I do 330 because my oven bakes hot). Bake for about 12 minutes or until golden brown.

Enjoy and brag about your buns.

Don't say I didn't tell you.

Have you ever experienced the humiliation and pain of falling on a treadmill? I have. It's terrible. Yes, I'm that girl who wasn't paying attention to what she was doing because she was too busy watching TLC's "What Not To Wear" and tripped all because she was trying to learn how to be more fashionable. Running disaster. And if you saw what I wear most days you would also know that I'm no more fashionable as a result of my dedication to watching the television program either. Currently I am wearing sweats and a t-shirt but to my credit it is past 10pm. Anyway, I wasn't wearing the safety clip. I fell. It hurt. A lot. Then within one month's time the very same thing happened again. So I decided I should either clip myself to the safety key or I should run with knee pads and a helmet. I opted to wear the clip. In my defense I was running on one of those long-distance treadmills with treads on the belt and I'm pretty sure that's why I tripped...that, and perhaps a little clumsiness on my part.

Every time I go to the gym and hop on a treadmill this (see picture) is what I see. Does everybody wrap the safety clip around the handles like this? I have never seen anybody else use a clip. In fact, I have never seen a clip that looks as if it has been used. So each time I get ready for my run (although it's really more of a jog these days) I unwind the cord and attach it to my shorts. I'm sure it annoys the next runner and they probably wonder why anybody would use the safety clip. Obviously those people have never had the adventure of falling on a treadmill...twice.

Perhaps I am the only person above the age of 5 who has ever fallen or nearly fallen on a treadmill and perhaps I am the only one who ever will. But the clip is right there. I would use it if I were you. Then again, if I were you I probably wouldn't have fallen in the first place. If you were me, then you should DEFINITELY wear the clip. And if you choose not to use the clip, don't say I didn't tell you. And don't watch "What Not To Wear" when operating a treadmill either...or any heavy machinery for that matter.

Everything is temporary.

There are times when I think that residency is not so bad. This is not one of those times. I'm selfish about my time with my husband and I miss him terribly when he is gone night after night, working long shifts and catching on sleep during the day. It's times like these when I feel like residency is something I'm trying to endure, which may sound silly since I'm more of a spectator than a participant in this journey. But endure is indeed the word I am feeling.

He never shows it, but it must be tough on him too. I admire him. There is no way that I could do what he does. Obviously I'm not a doctor (I don't even play one on TV), so technically I couldn't do it anyway. But even if I had the degree and the knowledge and the ability to perform well under pressure I simply could not do it. I would not be able to function under the hours or the pressure or the gravity of it all. I try to remind myself of that when I'm feeling mopey about it. It gives me an appreciation for the challenges my husband conquers every day.

I let my imagination wander a bit today as I was tempted to craft a letter to the hospital asking if they could loan Jeff out to me and Benjamin or give him time off for good behavior. It's hard to see him go off to work every night and it's even more difficult to welcome him home only to realize he needs to sleep during the day. It's such a tease to know that he's home and down the hall and not be able to spend time together. During these rotations I miss eating dinner as a family, listening to Jeff and Benjamin play together, and cuddling on the couch to watch a movie after putting the baby to bed.

This is, of course, no tragedy and when compared to life's big picture my situation really is not that bad. In fact, it seems a little silly to make such a big deal about the woes of residency when I know full well that there is real suffering going on in the world around me. But in a small way it deepens my belief in this...it's temporary. Circumstances in life may be difficult or disappointing, even heart-wrenching. But they are temporary. Everything here on Earth is temporary. Something happens. You deal with it. You move on. It may last a very short time. It may last a very long time. But it will only be for a time.

So I will save myself $0.44 because I don't need to send that letter to the hospital. Benjamin and I will get to spend more time with Jeff next month, and I will treasure it because that will be temporary too!

High fives are still cool.

Today Benjamin spontaneously decided to start giving high fives. My folks were visiting for a few days and as he was giving them hugs and kisses goodbye he suddenly threw out his little hand and gave my mom a high five. Of course I realize that fist bumps and complicated hand shakes and such are allegedly cooler than Benjamin's new trick, but I grew up in an era where high fives were the thing to do. We also tight-rolled our jeans and teased our bangs until they stood 4 inches above our heads. I no longer subscribe to those trends, but this is different. So give your high fives as much as you like. I love watching you learn your new tricks and I think it's totally dope, little dude.

Please do not judge the cleanliness of my child based upon the carrots and broccoli that are covering him and the surrounding area. They have since been removed.

Watch out for the broccoli.

It's always good when you discover that something about your appearance may embarrass you before you go out in public (zipper down, lipstick on teeth, etc.). You may inwardly experience a little humility, but if the situation is contained and witnessed only by you then no harm done. That's why I was so glad that I discovered the broccoli that Benjamin deposited in my hair before I left the house. I'm not sure if he was trying to hide his food so he wouldn't have to finish it or if he was storing it for later consumption. Either way I'm still left wondering how it got there as Ben was sitting in his highchair and my head was a good 2 feet from his vegetable hands throughout the entire meal. Maybe he threw it at me when I wasn't looking. At any rate I would like to issue this general warning... If you serve a small child steamed broccoli and allow him to feed himself you may be finding little green bits of mush on more than just the highchair and surrounding surfaces (table, wall, floor, ceiling). Also be warned that the dog may not be interested in cleaning the food off of the floor in her usual way. Apparently steamed broccoli does not have the same appeal for dogs as other foods like turkey or lasagna. It would be a good idea to invest in a mop if you should find yourself feeding a small child such things. Now to work on converting the dog to a vegetarian lifestyle.

Puppies!

What is more fun than having a boy and a dog to entertain you? A boy and 2 dogs. My parents' little fluff of a dog was visiting for the weekend while my folks enjoyed an outdoor bluegrass festival to which no dogs are permitted. Apparently hillbillies and hippies can attend, but canines are out of the question. Benjamin had a wonderful time with two dogs in the house. He greeted both pups each morning, watching them stretch and getting good morning kisses from both of them. The dogs romped around quite a bit playing tug o' war and teasing one another and Benjamin couldn't get enough. He loved watching them tussle. If the dogs were doing anything other than laying down Benjamin was watching their every move. And when the puppies went outside he was ever watchful, not wanting to miss out on any of the excitement. Double the doggies, double the fun....at least for a few days anyway.

Yeah, I just did that.

My child cannot wait to walk and he will turn anything that isn't nailed to the floor into a walker so that he get from here to there. Dining room chairs, a box of diapers, his Leap Frog table, even the quilt rack have been victims of his creative use. When Benjamin manages to waddle his way around the house he gets pretty tickled with himself. Either he'll flash a big smile or a proud look. His most recent tool for getting around is the riding toy he got from his grandparents for his birthday. He is already getting so much use out of this early birthday gift that he may just wear it out before he turns 1. We're working on actually riding the riding toy, but in the meantime pushing it all over the house is lots of fun. I'm just hoping he doesn't try this out on the dog when I'm not looking.

I love the way he looks at the camera and nods when he finishes his walk. It's like he's saying, "Yeah, I just did that."

Shopping Spree

This morning I went "shopping" with a sweet friend and her little boy. We hit about a half a dozen garage sales and found some really great deals. I don't always have good luck when I look through other people's junk, but today was one of those days I could have scoured the town for hours because I was finding such great stuff. Unfortunately we had to stop our shopping spree because Benjamin was hungry and tired. Apparently he runs the show. If only he realized everything I was buying was for him (with the exception of one pair of gardening gloves)....he may have chewed on his fingers a bit longer to stave off the hunger. Regardless we made out pretty good.

Here's what we found:

6 board books
Fisher-Price Chatter Telephone
Fisher-Price Laugh & Learn Puppy
bag filled with clothes
toy lawnmower
gardening gloves

Total = $12.00!!!

Lots of inexpensive goodies and the company of a friend...money and time well spent!

You are a big deal to me!

For months I've been trying to teach Ben to clap. I've tried everything. Patty-cake, clapping celebrations for every little thing he does, clapping to music. He loves to watch me clap but never showed any interest in trying it himself. Then suddenly tonight as I was feeding him his dinner he spontaneously began clapping. He didn't even seem to realize that he was doing it until I made a big fuss about it. I cheered and clapped and laughed at him. It was then that Benjamin realized he had stumbled on to something big. Really big. He looked at me and clapped. He looked at Jeff and clapped. He looked at his hands and clapped. It was so sweet to see how proud he was of himself. It's funny how these little moments are such a big deal to parents (first smiles, rolling over, sitting, babbling, standing, clapping) when down the road the big deals will be made of up drivers licenses, graduations, first jobs and so much more. In the grand scheme of things these small activities that Benjamin is learning will seem so insignificant compared to the things he may do in the future. I still think it's amazing how this little person who was in my womb less than one year ago has already learned so much. So clap on little, man. You are a big deal to me!

My Precious

I've been offering Benjamin a sippy cup for some time now in hopes that he would one day discover how to drink from it. Up until today I was getting a little concerned that when the time came to ween him he would have a hard time adjusting. My bottle-battling boy resists taking milk from anything other than me and we are getting pretty close to his cut-off date. He likes it straight from the tap so I wondered what I would do with him if he wouldn't take a bottle AND he didn't know how to drink from his little cup. But today was the day. Benjamin suddenly discovered that if he didn't just bite the sippy cup he could actually get something out of it. What a relief. The best part of it all was that after he realized that he was drinking from the cup he couldn't get enough of it. He held onto it like Gollum and it was almost as if he was saying "My Precious" with his eyes. Okay buddy, I'm excited you figured it out, but let's not go overboard here, okay?

Fat girl, skinny girl, and somewhere in between.

I've been a fat girl. I've been a skinny girl. And now I'm a mama who knows what it's like to be both, terrified of one and longing to be the other again. This post is not meant to drum up compliments nor is it for my own edification, so please don't feel the need to give attention to either. It's just that lately I've been thinking a lot about what it's like to be a woman, fat or skinny, or somewhere in between who struggles with the way she looks. Believe it or not, a girl can feel bad about herself if she's fat or if she's skinny. Self-image isn't really ever about a person's outward appearance. It's really about thoughts. I struggled with my feelings of worth when I was at my thinnest as much as I did when I was at my heaviest. When I was really overweight I was so self-conscious. Most of my energy was spent on being funny or friendly in hopes that people wouldn't notice how big I was. Usually I felt like I was the biggest person in every room I entered. Then with a lot of hard work, discipline, and let's be honest, a little bit of obsession I got skinny. It took forever to get there and most of the time I never felt like I had finished. It didn't seem to matter that I had dropped 7 dress sizes or that I had lost over 90 pounds. In my head I was still a fat girl. A negative self-image loomed over me. Over time and with Jeff's encouragement, I was able to become comfortable with myself for the most part. Then we started our family and the scale showed numbers I was all too familiar with and did not want to see again. I accepted the numbers knowing that my little baby needed those numbers and that if I had lost weight once I could do it again. Now here I sit, a mama who had her baby more than 11 months ago with "baby" weight left to lose and trying to do it again. My husband encourages me and tells me that I'm beautiful and that he wouldn't change a thing about me, but I would. I would lose these extra pounds and tone up. And yet, I wouldn't trade being a mama to my Benjamin. I can't go to the gym every day and I certainly can't justify spending hours at the gym when I have a family that I love so much. So I'm doing what I can (with the exception of a few extra cookies here and there) by getting out with the stroller, going to the gym when I can, and trying to be mindful of what I'm eating. And I'm telling myself that if my husband thinks I'm beautiful and God says I am fearfully and wonderfully made, then I'm okay just the way I am. Is my value in a number? Is yours? I am not less or more of a woman, wife, mother, daughter, sister or friend based upon my weight or size or outward appearance...and neither are you. I can't let the scale or the number on the tag of my jeans dictate how I feel about myself. What should dictate how I feel about myself is knowing that I was made in the image of God and He is beautiful. Now, off to the gym for a reasonable amount of time to find my strength, not my value:)

The Take Home Chef

Benjamin woke up early this morning and Jeff was trying to recover from working nights. We headed out to the grocery store so that the sleep deprived resident could have a quiet house in which to rest. I usually do my grocery shopping at Super Target or HyVee. The slogan for Hyvee is "Where there's a helpful smile down every aisle". Fact: there actually is a helpful smile down every aisle. No kidding. The staff there are so friendly. They even give Benjamin a balloon when we go there which may not seem like a big deal but it actually is a big deal if you are trying to fill your cart with groceries while lugging around a baby who desperately wants to get out of the cart and play. Anyway, today we went to Hyvee, grabbed a cart, got our free balloon and began searching for the items on our list. I couldn't believe my luck when I saw Curtis Stone there. I mean I've seen him in the Hyvee ads with tips and recipes and such, and I've seen him in the Hyvee commercials going to the homes of customers to help them cook dinner, but I never thought that I would actually see him in my very own grocery store. Wow! He warmly greeted us with a smile, but when I went to say hello and ask for tips on how to put together tonight's meal he totally blew me off and just smiled at the people behind me. Well, I could see that he wasn't going to come to the house to cook for us tonight which was fine I guess, but he didn't offer any advice either. Oh well. By the looks of the bathroom scale nobody around here is going without food so I suppose we'll be okay. But I do think the whole "take home chef" thing is much ado about nothing. At least we got a balloon.

Neighborhood Watch....Yep, I'm watching, and so is the dog.

The dog sleeps in our kitchen in her kennel right up against the patio window. She sees everything. Sometimes I wonder if she actually even sleeps during the night or just spends the entire time looking out the window, surveying the goings on in the neighborhood. I know that she must sleep at least some of the time because every once in a while I can hear hear across the house having a puppy dream as she whimpers or half barks at the squirrels that she is probably dreaming about. But occasionally Osa will bust out in a full warning bark. Of course I am always startled by it and then nervously check to see what she's fussing about. Most of the time she's alerted to some deer or a raccoon or some such critter, but once in a while she's telling us there's something else going on. Last night was one of the nights that Osa warned us there was something unusual going on outside. I was having trouble going to sleep and was laying in bed when I heard her start with a low growl before she erupted into a barking frenzy. I hopped out of bed and hurried to the kitchen window to see what was the matter. As I peered out the window I saw three young men using their cell phones as flashlights clambering through a small space between our yard and the neighbor's yard. Osa was going nuts-o with the barking and of course woke Benjamin up from his slumber. Then he exploded into tears. So now the dog was barking incessantly, the baby was screaming and three strangers were tearing through the yard in the middle of the night. I didn't really think about what I was going to do. I just suddenly turned on the flood light in the backyard, opened the patio door and hollered at the young men. "Hey, this is private property and you just woke my baby!" My voice was hoarse from the cold that I had so I sounded extra tough and the light startled them quite a bit. Between my gruff yelling, the dog's barking and the surprise of the back light I probably scared those boys more than they scared me. The way I sounded they probably pictured some crazy, wild-haired woman with a shotgun propped upon her shoulder and a Dirty Harry attitude tucked into her back pocket. Admittedly, that's about how I felt. You may get by with sneaking through my neighborhood, sending the dog into a barking fit and forcing me to get out of bed in the middle of the night. But you gonna wake up my baby? Go ahead, make my day.

Once the household settled down again and we were all back to bed, Jeff and I laughed at my tough girl episode. I'm still not sure what got into me. We live in a Neighborhood Watch area. We're supposed to report suspicious persons, not open the door and "talk" to them. Thankfully I am so frightening that I scared them off. But self-control. There's always room for self-control.

Love. That. Dog.

Osa is a 12 pound Teddy Bear. That's a fancy way of saying she's an expensive mutt. The first time I met Osa I fell in love with her. Jeff and I had just moved into our new house in a new town. By "just" I mean we moved in on a Friday and brought her home the following Monday. I had been looking at Teddy Bears (shih tzu/bichon mix) at pet stores and kennels for months knowing that I wanted a pup as after we got settled from our move. I hadn't found the right puppy by the time we hopped into the moving truck and for 3 days I was unable to look for my puppy because I didn't have access to the internet. This was before I joined the smart phone world. But the cable guy came to our house that Monday morning and as soon as he left I hopped on the computer to see if any of the locals had a Teddy Bear available since I last looked Thursday. Sure enough, somebody posted pictures of a litter of pups, all adorable that very morning. When I saw the pictures I thought to myself, "That is my girl". I told Jeff about her and that I wanted to go look at her. Jeff had hoped to get a big dog, but with his long work hours he lovingly allowed me to choose the kind of dog I wanted to keep as my companion while he was away. So we made the 40 minute drive to meet the tri-colored doggy. As soon as I met her I knew I wanted to bring her home with us. She was soft and playful and her coat was so sweet. The paper work started flying and I later learned that Jeff was thinking "I thought we were just looking at the dog". We wrote a check, filled out paperwork and brought our little dog home. On the 40 minute trip home I held her in a blanket we kept in the car. She cuddled and then squirmed and chewed on my fingers with her razor sharp teeth all while we tried to think of a good name for our new little pup. We agreed upon Osa. The Spanish word for bear is oso and we thought that since she was a Teddy Bear mix it would fit well. We had to call her Osa though, since she is a girl. Then we stopped off at the pet supply store to pick up the necessities and brought our Osa girl home. She's been such a good little buddy for me, especially when Jeff is at work for long hours. And now I'm watching Osa and Benjamin become friends as Ben feeds her his food from his highchair and they play tug of war. I'll admit that during all of the puppy training, chewing, and whimpering in the middle of the night there were moments that I wondered if we should have taken on the responsibility of a puppy. But here we are with our Osa bear more than 2 years later and she is a well-behaved, playful, cuddly companion and once we got through some of those difficult moment I knew we did the right thing by adding Osa to our family. Love. That. Dog.

On a side note, I highly recommend the book The Art of Raising a Puppy by the Monks of New Skete. Very good advice on how to choose and raise a pup.

A Cookie Jar of Memories

Today my memory was triggered buy some sugar, peanut butter, and flour. Benjamin was entertaining himself with an empty jar of peanut butter while I was baking one of grandma's recipes. The peanut butter cookie dough whirled about the mixer as I fondly recalled spending time at the kitchen counter with my mom talking about grandma. My grandma passed away when I was only four-years-old. Sadly, I don't have many memories of my grandma, but every one that I do have is happily cherished. Most of my memories are of grandma's kitchen and her yummy baked goods. My grandma loved to bake for her family. My love of baking must have been inherited from grandma. I'd like to think that I have some of her other good qualities too, but I know we have baking in common at least. I imagine that she enjoyed seeing the smiles and hearing the happy conversations her family enjoyed over one of her yummy pies or a batch of her freshly baked cookies. All of the relatives probably complimented her on the desserts she made and I can picture her modestly accepting their praise as she said something like "Oh, it was nothing". After my grandma was gone, mom would tell me stories about her while we baked up one of her delicious recipes. I loved hearing stories about grandma while we mixed together one of her tried and true goodies. It would have been so nice to have had her around just a little bit longer and known her a little bit better. But I'm so grateful I can remember grandma and the things my mom told me about her over a bowl of dough and sheets of hot cookies.

Grandma R's Peanut Butter Cookies
Cream together 1/2 cup sugar, 1/2 cup brown sugar, 1/2 cup butter and 1/2 cup peanut butter. Mix in one egg. Dissolve 1 tsp of baking soda in a small amount of hot water and add to peanut butter mixture. Stir in 1 1/2 cups flour and 1/2 tsp of salt. Roll into balls and make a criss-cross pattern with a fork. Bake at 350 degrees for 10 minutes. Pour a cup of coffee or a glass of milk, dunk a cookie and remember your grandma :)