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 :)

Gracious Mama Bear

Have you ever had somebody come up to you to admire your baby and then reach out to tickle him or pat him or poke him and what have you? I have. I suppose most mothers of absolutely adorable babies deal with this situation as I do on a regular basis. In the grand scheme of things, I realize it's really not that big of a deal if a total stranger touches my baby, but I have to cringe every time their hands reach for Ben. It's the germs. Can you blame me? Usually I can smile and move on, but the other day I could not. We were at the store and Ben needed a little diaper change so we headed to the restroom. After I finished up I gathered our things and we were greeted by an employee who had just exited a restroom stall. She thought Ben was cute, obviously, and said hello to him and coochy-cooed and all of that. No problem. Then she lifted her hand and reached out to touch him. Yes, the employee that used the restroom and had not yet washed her hands was going to touch my baby. GrrrrrrrrrrrRooooooaaaarrrrrrrr! My mama bear instincts kicked in and I quickly pulled Benjamin out of her germy reach and retreated through the door, a fake smile on my face (at least I was trying to smile -may have been more like a grimace). Ewwwwww! Who does that??? Would it be so difficult for people to stop and think about what they are doing so as not to upset, or offend, or anger, or infect others??? Oh I was steaming. Of course I recounted the entire episode to my husband and in-laws in a huff. I am over the incident now and have had time to think about my reaction to the situation. While I am entitled to protect my baby, and responsible for doing so, I am also called to show grace to others. How many times have I done something, big or small, that has offended or upset somebody else? How many times have I been unaware of my offenses because others have shown grace to me rather than striking back? Yes, there is a time for correction and it's good to keep strangers' toilet hands away from Benjamin's face, but there is always room for grace in all of my actions and reactions. So I'll try to work on my mama bear reactions, of which there seem to be quite a few. But I'm still going to keep the disinfectant handy.

Grandma's Rhubarb Cake and Cobbler

I'm not really the type to hoard recipes. I figure good food is one of life's pleasure and everybody should enjoy it. Besides, my grandma would have shared these recipes with you. In fact, she probably would have baked them up for you herself and put on a fresh pot of coffee. So here are my two favorite rhubarb recipes in the world. If you have a good one, please share!

Grandma's Rhubarb Cobbler
4 cups rhubarb
1 cup sugar
Mix together and bake in 9x13" pan at 350 degrees until juicy

Meanwhile prepare the following and crumble over the rhubarb mixture:
3/4 cup margarine (I use butter)
2 cups flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 cup sugar
1 1/2 cups coconut
1/4 tsp salt
1 tbsp vanilla
nuts if desired

Bake at 350 degrees for 20-25 minutes

Grandma's Rhubarb Cake
(This cake is somewhat dense. Reminds me of a coffee cake, but not too heavy)
1 1/2 cups brown sugar
1/2 cup shortening
1 egg
1 cup sour milk*
1 tsp baking soda
2 cups flour
1/4 tsp salt
1 tsp vanilla
1 1/2 to 2 cups rhubarb, cut fine

*If you don't have buttermilk take one tbsp vinegar and add enough milk to make one cup*

Mix together. Pour mixture into 9x13" pan. Mix together 1/2 cup sugar and 1 tsp cinnamon. Sprinkle cinnamon sugar mixture over cake batter. Bake at 350 degrees for 35 minutes.

Enjoy!

Rhubarb Monster

I love sweets. Chocolate is my weakness, but I can enjoy pretty much any sweet under the sun (which is probably why I can't seem to lose the rest of this "baby" weight). There are a few seasonal goodies that I cannot resist and it upsets me when their season has passed knowing that I'll have to wait an entire year before I can enjoy them again. Seriously, I get emotional about my sweets. You can ask my husband who made the mistake of taking my last bite of dessert once. Most of my favorite goodies can be made anytime of year, but some are limited to our short summers. One such dessert: rhubarb cobbler. I don't know what exactly happens to me each summer, but it has something to do with rhubarb and sugar and the oven. I turn into this rhubarb hungry monster. I've actually caught myself coveting my neighbors humongous rhubarb plants. I'm pretty sure she caught me too because each summer she has brought over a big bag of rhubarb for me. Love her for that! When we moved into our house we discovered two rhubarb plants that were fair in size. Typically I can harvest 8-10 cups of rhubarb from them, which you would think is plenty for our small family. But if you had ever tasted my grandma's recipes for rhubarb cake and cobbler, you would know that there can never be enough rhubarb. So thanks to my sweet neighbor across the street who shares and doesn't judge me for coveting her plants. Don't worry...I brought her some rhubarb cobbler. I'd bring you some too if you would share your rhubarb with me, but you haven't.

Bon bons

My husband is so sweet. He brought some chocolates home for me the other day to thank me for "all of the hard work" I had done last week. So I sat on the couch and ate them. Do you know how stay-at-home moms developed a reputation for sitting on the couch and eating bonbons? It's because they deserve to sit on the couch and eat bonbons. Before I got married or had Benjamin, I was a busy gal. I worked full time, went to the gym daily, and had some kind of activity almost every day of the week. Add to that housework (or apartment work I guess), for which I had sole responsibility, and my plate was full. After Jeff and I got married things felt a little busier but mostly stayed the same, although I tried not to serve cereal for dinner every night as I did when I was single. We were both busy working and trying to keep our place livable while making time for our friends, family and each other. Well now we have a little boy and I've hung up my teaching hat for the time being to stay at home with him and to support my husband's career by taking care of all the things that I can on my own. You would think that I would have all of the time in the world compared to when I was a working girl, but I don't. Now I really know what busy is. It's not that my schedule is busier. I have fewer things on the calendar than I ever have in my adult life. And my responsibilities are limited to my family and house. But it seems that I have less time to do the things that I want to than ever before. So even though my schedule is lighter, my plate feels heavier. And because I do stay at home, I feel that it's my job to do everything (or as much as I can) without my husband pitching in to help. Afterall, he puts long hours in at his job, so why should he have to put long hours into my job too? Jeff doesn't put any pressure on me to do this or that, and he happily helps when I need him to, but it always leaves me with this feeling of inadequacy or failure when I can't do everything on my own. Each day I hurry about trying to do as much as I can so that my hard-working husband can come home and relax. Every moment seems to be filled with something...diapers, laundry, dishes, cooking, sweeping, comforting baby, grocery shopping, entertaining baby, going to the bank, picking up toys, feeding baby, and on and on and on. There is no coffee break or lunch break in my work day. There is no quiet drive to and from work in the car. There is no chit-chatting with adults around the water cooler or in the cafeteria or break room. When being a homemaker is your job, you don't get time off from work and you don't get to leave your work at the office because your home is your office. There is always something to do and so it's hard to feel okay about having some down time because any time I'm at home, I'm on the job. Don't get me wrong, I love my job. I love taking care of my baby and my husband and my house and I wouldn't have it any other way. But it is hard work and there is a burden (self-inflicted) to do everything until everything is done. Since I don't earn a paycheck I feel I have to earn a break, but I don't really feel like I deserve one because my work is never done. So if a stay-at-home mom wants to sit on the couch to eat bonbons while writing a little blog or checking her Facebook or watching the Today show, you'll understand that she deserves a little break from her work too. And if any of the other homemakers out there are as lucky as I am, their husbands will supply the bonbons (or truffles in my case).

Garage Sale Self-Discovery

I'm getting ready for a garage sale this week. In the past I've just boxed things up and dropped them off at Goodwill periodically. A box of books here, a box of clothes there. But this year I've come to the conclusion that we need to really clean house and scale down. Our closets are ridiculous. I'm going through closets and boxes and cupboards and anyplace else I can think to look sifting and sorting through childhood toys, teaching materials, books and more.



Getting ready for this garage sale has shown me a few things...

1. We have a lot of junk
2. I had a great childhood
3. I miss having my grandparents
4. I loved being a teacher and I was pretty good at it
5. I don't have to hold on to things I'm not using. They are just things.
6. My favorite book is "Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs" (I have 4 copies)
7. I LOVE children's books (I'm scaling down from 5 to 3 boxes - OUCH!)
8. I can't wait to watch Ben play with my old toys and read my old books
9. Purging is therapeutic
10.The best things I have are either working at the hospital, sleeping in the crib upstairs, or curled up on the couch watching squirrels outside the window.

Hello, It's Mr. Nasty!

"Do you ever feel you've become the worst version of yourself? That a Pandora's box of all the secret, hateful parts - your arrogance, your spite, your condescension - has sprung open? Someone provokes you and instead of just smiling and moving on, you zing them? "Hello, it's Mr Nasty." I'm sure you have no idea what I'm talking about."

That's a quote from my all time favorite movie, "You've Got Mail". My husband teases me that YGM shouldn't be anybody's favorite movie. He wonders how I can love a movie where the leading man is a total jerk to the leading lady, ruins her career/life, and then realizes he made a mistake and gets the girl in the end. "Braveheart"- Now that's a movie. I guess he has a point, but I love it nonetheless.

Back to the quote though. Do you ever feel like you've become the worst version of yourself? I do. Frequently. Sometimes I look back at my behavior and realize how selfish and unfair or unloving I have been. I feel so justified when that Pandora's box is opening up, but then when I really think about my part in whatever is happening around me I'm completely humbled. I wonder how can I be lovable? Maybe you don't know what I'm talking about, but I think when most people stop and look in the "mirror", the reflection they see is one their not always proud of. Sometimes when I see that reflection I see a woman who is blessed and loved and who has love to share with those around her. At other times, the hateful bits are in the forefront. I realize that I don't deserve all that I have...not the love of my husband and son, or of my family and friends, and I especially don't deserve the love that God shows to me. All of these blessings are gifts to an undeserving woman who struggles with being the person God created her to be.

So what's a girl to do with such an realization? I guess I'll just keep trying to follow Jesus, to purge the hateful bits, to show love and grace to those around me. After all, I'm only living this life and experiencing all its blessings because Somebody else has shown love and grace to me.

Garbage Walk

The weather was hot and steamy today. I'm not made for this kind of thing. I'm a North Dakota girl living in Minnesota. If I wanted hot, sticky weather I would like in the south. At any rate, I've been trying to be more disciplined with my exercise so I took Benjamin out for a morning walk in order to try to beat the heat, something that's a little hard to do when the temperature is 80 degrees upon waking. The first part of our walk wasn't too terrible, but Osa lasted all of 1/2 mile before she threw in the towel. We dropped her off at home and continued on our way. We got about 3 1/2 miles into our walk and had a mile to go. By this time, it was steaming outside. I was completely drenched. I pushed Benjamin up a steep hill while he napped comfortably in his stroller underneath his sunshade. It was hard work. Really hard. But I've gotten through tough exercise in high heat and high humidity. The real problem was the garbage. It was garbage day in the neighborhood we were plowing through. House after house there were large stinking garbage bins filled with garbage. You know how pleasant it is to walk into a house with freshly baked goodies, their sweet aroma filling the air? Well this was completely the opposite of that. It was almost as if the garbage bins had become trash ovens and the fumes were pungeant and permeating the entire neighborhood. All the while I was breathing heavy through my mouth as I lumbered up the hill and thus endured one of the most disgusting miles of my exercise life (yes, there are others * ). Why am I sharing this garbage walk experience with you? I want you to know that if the weather is hot and humid and it's garbage day, you should think twice about going outdoors for exercise.

*Other gross workouts involve a farting cyclist and a runner with such a high blood alcohol level she was sweating beer.

The Coon Dog and the Scaredy Cat

I get such a kick out of dogs. Their little personalities can be so funny. I'm thinking about it tonight because we are dog sitting for some friends whose dog is about a year older than Osa and about the same size...a little Yorkie looking terrier, but bigger than a Yorkie, whatever that breed is. We're having a thunderstorm and the little terrier is frantic. She's pacing, looking out windows, hiding under tables, and crawling all over me. Then there's Osa. She is scratching at the door and ringing her bell to go outside. I know for a fact that she does not need to go out to do her duties because that was all taken care of just a little while ago. She wants to play in the lightening and watch the storm. She acts like she's this fearless brute when really she can be such a timid little thing. If a stranger reaches to pet her, she cowers away from them. And toddlers...forget about it. She is frightened of the baby gates, but she'll tree a raccoon no problem. It's like like I have 2 different dogs. The coon dog and the scaredy cat. But I love her and her dueling personalities.