Happy Birthday, Peanut.

Posted on May 22, 2012 by Kelly

My oldest baby is 8.

I did not ask for this. I am not ready for this. Please, stay small.

She is the one who made me Mommy. She was the first. It was a terrifying labor, but oh-so-worth-it. I remember the doctor holding her up and showing her to me in a Simba-like, Lion King way.

And me thinking, “Wow, she looks a little like a conehead, but at the same time the most captivatingly beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on.”

She just looked at me and blinked with fresh, wide eyes. Never crying. The doctor laid her across my chest. The nurse kept poking her to get her to cry. Please, don’t poke my sweet little peanut like that.

But she was fine. Content. Perfect.

And here we are. 8 years later.

Please, make time stop now.

Just plain mean.

Posted on May 4, 2012 by Kelly

I am blind. Nearly. Well, sort of. I am one of those people who pay loads of cash so my “coke bottle” lenses will be be deceivingly thin. Most days, I just prefer my contacts. Perhaps one day I will be brave enough to have a go at Lasik surgery, but until then, shenanigans like the following will continue…

It should have been simple. It should have been easy. It should have just the way it has always been. You see, my lovely, eco-friendly shampoo and conditioner are packaged in nearly identical bottles. Except for the small print labeling them “shampoo” and “conditioner,” its rather difficult to tell them apart. Since I obviously don’t shower with glasses, I have a system: shampoo on the left, conditioner on the right. Left to right. Like reading. Foolproof. Almost.

Things were going along swimmingly as I first lathered my hair and rinsed. I reached for the 2nd bottle. The right one. As I am applying the conditioner, I am surprised that my hair still feels rather soapy. Strange. Granted I was still rather tired so perhaps I forgot to rinse the shampoo out of my hair? I fully rinse and try again with the bottle on the right. I find myself richly lathered. Again. I am still groggy. I can’t recall if I used the bottle on the left or the bottle on the right. I assumed one of the girls switched the bottles during their shower the evening before. Rinsing again. This time, I go left. Argh! Fully soaped! Seriously, what the heck is going on here??? I violently take hold of both bottles clutching them as close to my feeble eyes as possible only to discover they BOTH say “shampoo!” Super. I have just shampooed my hair four times and there is no conditioner in sight (no pun intended).

The jig is up. I call for hubby. “Where in God’s green earth is the conditioner???!!!”

He laughs. Then smugly replies, “It’s on the other side.”

Seriously. Don’t mess with my system. What a mean trick to pull on a blind girl before her morning joe.

But on the bright side… my hair is really clean.

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Lunch Lessons.

Posted on May 1, 2012 by Kelly

I love living here, but as I am quickly learning, there all sorts of little challenges popping up that I hadn’t really thought about before.

One hurdle in particular is lunch.

Yes. We were spoiled in town. Hubby came home for lunch nearly every day. It was a sweet time to reconnect and catch up and nourish ourselves. Now… not so much. There are simply too many miles between us and eating out every day isn’t exactly friendly to our bank account. ($5 Footlongs from Subway can only charm a person for so long.)

I wasn’t really prepared for the whole packing-a-lunch ordeal every morning. Packing for the kids is easy. (Kid-friendly ideas here: Lunch Much?)

My sweetheart, on the other hand, eats at least three times as much, craves massive amounts of protein and is very… specific about his food. There have been more than a few recent mornings where a grumpy hubby left the house lunchless simply because I didn’t plan ahead. (Oops!) Sandwiches and soup were getting old really fast.

Then a lightbulb…

Several weeks ago, while preparing a larger-than-usual pan of enchiladas (one of the few meals that everyone in the family will actually eat without someone rolling their eyes and pushing the plate away), I hit a wall. The dish was stuffed to overflowing and I had 4 lonely enchiladas left over. What to do? Epiphany. I wrapped each one individually and stuck them in the freezer. Hubby’s lunch! He was thrilled and they reheated perfectly for his mid-day meal. Now I make a double batch and freeze away!

Homemade, perfectly portable, and oh-so-yummy. Not to mention, exceedingly inexpensive to make.

Some other things I am filling my freezer with for this purpose:

Pepperoni Pizza Poppers

A homemade version of a pizza pocket. Use refrigerated biscuit dough (or homemade!). Roll each out to a thin circle. Fill with sauce, cheese and desired toppings. Fold over into a semi-circle. Use fork to press and seal the edges. Bake at 450 for about 8 minutes. Wrap individually for future use! Experimenting with other fillings is fun, too: chicken, cheddar cheese, and broccoli; ham and cheese; chicken, barbecue sauce, and cheddar cheese; etc.
Microwave for about 2 minutes to enjoy.

Meatloaf Muffins

Use your favorite meatloaf recipe and scoop into a muffin pan. Bake at 450 for about 15 minutes. Cool, wrap individually and freeze. (Mix it up and top with marinara sauce, Italian seasoning and mozzarella cheese or barbecue sauce and cheddar cheese!) Microwave for about 2 minutes to enjoy.

Meatballs & Marinara

Freeze your homemade meatballs (this recipe is my fave: Italian meatballs). Store in an airtight freezer container or freezer bag. For lunch, pack with a small container of marinara sauce for dipping. (A baby food jar is the perfect size!) Microwave for about 2 minutes to enjoy.

Taco Cups

I cannot take any credit for this, but my amazingly kitchen-talented friend, Lori sent me this idea awhile ago. (Check out her blog here: 4newtons.) Press refrigerated biscuit dough into a muffin pan, fill with taco meat, cheddar cheese, and bake! I imagine these would freeze equally well, but haven’t yet tried it!

Almost any casserole can be frozen in individual portions in the same way. I’ll be experimenting some more with this…

Check out my Recipes page for more yummies!

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The Sensitive One.

Posted on April 27, 2012 by Kelly

Whew! I escaped last Monday’s debacle mostly unscathed. My phone is in good working order. My datebook got an “extreme makeover” and is now colored something I like to call “vintage brown” (Or poo stain. Take your pick.). My laptop is now fully reassembled and back in business, thanks to my incredibly talented hubby (so thankful I married a nerd!). I admit, however, that I nearly had a heart attack when viewing my laptop spread out in itty bitty pieces on the kitchen table, meticulously undergoing the “decaffeinating” process by the aforementioned hubby.

Glad. That’s. Over.

Transitions are hard for people like me. And people like her. My sweet, 5-year-old Ladybug, the sensitive one. She emotionally attaches to people. And things. And she is fiercely loveable. When we moved she cried for days. It has been nearly a month since we moved, but she tells me it still doesn’t feel like home. She doesn’t like it here. And she misses her old room. (Kid, rip my heart out and stomp all over it, will ya?)

And today our faithful minivan went to the great garage in the sky. We sent our beloved van to the scrap yard and watched as the big tractor hauled it away. There was much wailing. And sobbing. And oh, the tears.

Ladybug, lamenting something like, “I have always loved that van. There will never be another one. I can’t look at it like that!”

Peanut was crying, too. “I just know that I left my favorite Nintendo DS game in there. Mom, pleeeeeeaaaaaase go check one more time!” No, I will not be risking my life by rushing into the crusher for your video game. Next!

Little Lovey just wanted a sucker. And I just wanted them all to stop the insanity. (Earlier, I realized my fresh coffee was still steaming on the kitchen counter as I sped to town, late for an appointment.)

Ladybug has informed me that we can only replace her with another black van. Nothing else. She doesn’t yet know that the new one is blue. Sincerely hoping that goes over well. It seems so silly, but even at the age of 5, she just really cares. About everything. I love that kid. Someday she is going to make a really great nurse. Or a teacher. Or a veterinarian. She has so much love to give.

In her bedtime prayers, she lays bare her heart. No one and nothing is left out her petition.

She. Is. Fervent.

She prays all kinds of things like:

For all the people with wells to have enough water in their well.

For all of the old ladies who were born in 1962.

For people who are blind to find cheap glasses.

For cancer to not be contagious.

For the plain Cheerios to magically turn into Honey Nut Cheerios by breakfast time.
For mommy to send leftover lasagna to the hungry children in Bolivia.

Ladybug’s evening prayer time is often my favorite 10 minutes of the day. Yes. Ten illuminating minutes of child-like faith and this mama choking back tears of pride and giggles of pure joy.

She is the sensitive one. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Love & Coffee!

“You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are—no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought.”

Matthew 5.5

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Dreams and Things.

Posted on March 22, 2012 by Kelly

Countrified.

So I am pretty sure I just made up that word. It’s what I’m about to be.

Wishing. Hoping. Praying. We just bought our dream house. An acreage in the country.

We have been waiting. Waiting for the next step. Waiting for the right thing. Waiting for dreams to come true.

I’m still pinching myself to make sure I am still alive. When I wrote this post (Going to Town) back in October, I had no earthly idea that such a thing could really be on the horizon for my family.

I’m not from the country. I have never lived in the country. I have read a lot about living in the country, but have zero experience. If you are a townie like me, the mere thought is entirely exhilarating and a trifle frightening at the same time.

We don’t even own necessary “country” things like a shovel. Or a ladder. Or overalls. Yet.

Ten years ago, I was living in a bustling city and I would have told anyone who asked me that it was the life I forever wanted. My, how things have changed. My stellar hubby and I have long dreamed of country quiet and the pursuit of a modern-day homestead. We are not yet old, but most certainly not getting any younger. So naturally, the time to pursue such things is now. We’ll probably make some mistakes. But isn’t that half the fun?

It’s a project house. There are paint colors to be picked, wood floors to be waxed, and gardens to grow. And I couldn’t be more thrilled.

My sweet husband has ordered our yet-to-be bred dog whom he has already affectionately named, Kujo. I am notoriously black-thumbed, yet he has mapped out a gargantuan garden plot for our family. He has so much faith in me. There is also talk of chickens, goats, and a horse… all in good time, of course.

This is my last night as a townie. And I am okay with that. So the adventure begins…

Stick around. Check in. I’ll be back in full force soon. So much good is coming this way.

Love and coffee.

“I’m sure now I’ll see God’s goodness
      in the exuberant earth.
   Stay with God!
      Take heart. Don’t quit.
   I’ll say it again:
      Stay with God.”

Psalm 27.13-14

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Soggy & Magical.

Posted on March 13, 2012 by Kelly

It was a perfect mid-morning coffee break. New organic blend. Steamy and fresh. PBS on the tube and my girlies chillin’ on the sofa.

I really needed that five minutes.

Then I left the room for like a minute. I swear. I only went to return a stray hairbrush to the bathroom drawer. I sat down to catch up on email and sipped my lovely coffee when something the consistency of pasty, wet cotton ball was introduced to my mouth.

(Cough. Gag. Regurgitate.)

Hmmm. I studied the debris field splorfed out before me in a methodical, CSI-ish manner. Of course. This could be none other than a soggy tortilla chip strategically placed in my coffee.

Let me reiterate the fact that I was gone for “like a minute.” Mere seconds. This was definitely the handiwork of my little Lovey. Yes. The 2-year-old.

And I have to say that this scenario is rather indicative of my life at the moment. It seems that every time I turn around. Soggy. In mere seconds. Mush.

This is merely a season. A ~~tough~~ ~~frustrating~~ exciting, faith-building season. I believe the best things in life happen when you are pushed beyond what you believe to be your own limits. However, I find it increasingly difficult to wait. And wait. And wait some more. I have never been accused of being patient. But I’m trying. Really. And the not-so-distant future is shaping up to be pretty darn promising.

(Remember the Fridge Flap from February? Yeah. Still living out of cooler… for reasons I hope to divulge soon.)

Fast forward to the afternoon. We stopped to visit my hubby at work. I left for like a minute. Mere seconds. And there it was. The office floor displaying a crayon mural. Snap! Lovey looked up at me and said, “Isn’t it magical?”

And she was mostly right.

Beautiful messes can be downright magical.

” Your beauty and love chase after me
      every day of my life.
   I’m back home in the house of God
      for the rest of my life.”

Psalm 23.6 (The Message)

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Sisters.

Posted on March 13, 2012 by Kelly

We are three.

Two. Plus. One.

Sisters. Friends. Treasures.

I count it blessing that God saw fit to grant me two beautiful sisters. There are but 2 1/2 years that separate us, but I remember the day well. I spent the day at Grammy & Grandpie’s house while we anxiously awaited a phone call from the hospital. (Remember those days? Before play-by-play facebook status updates. Before routine ultrasounds. Before…)

Grammy graciously let me take the call. There was elation. And disappointment. My mother shared the news as Grammy excitedly asked, “So… what are they???” With a long face, I answered, “They’re white ones.” I had desperately wanted “chocolate” babies and no matter how many times it was explained to me that this wouldn’t be possible for our family… I wished for a miracle.

In the end, it worked out. I had two sisters to love and laugh with, tickle and torture, and we would share the wonder of life together.

And as a consolation prize, I was awarded a “chocolate” baby doll. The consolation prizes would continue for years. I looked forward to March 13. Being the odd one out during the twins’ birthday apparently earned me the privilege of presents. (Boy, did I have them fooled. I would have been happy with cake…)

Today we may be separated by distance (albeit less distance than other times of our lives), yet we are bound in heart and in spirit. My greatest wish is for my three little lovelies to embrace the strength, sincerity, and support of sisterhood.

I love you, Sweet Sisters.
Happy Twentytenth Birthday!

“Lord, help the mister, who comes between me and my sister…”

Half Right.

Posted on March 5, 2012 by Kelly

Last week, I had myself pretty convinced that my household appliances were plotting against me.

It began when my vacuum sweeper decided to get temperamental with me back in December. (She’s still plugging along, but I am not sure how much more I am willing to put up with.)

Then, as you may recall, it was my refrigerator. (Oh, blessed timing.)

Last week, it was my washing machine. I went to the basement to switch the laundry into the dryer, when I realized everything was still sopping wet. Drenched. Deluged. (Hmmm. Spin cycle, much?) The normally plastered-to-the-sides pile of clothes was soaking in a heap at the bottom of the washer. I set the washer to spin again, thinking it a minor fluke. Ten seconds in and the hot aroma of something terribly wrong arrested my senses. Stop the machine.

My eyes shifted to the neatly sorted piles of laundry awaiting my attention. I blinked back tears. This couldn’t be happening. I looked back at my machine with severe disdain. Don’t you know we are in the midst of some pretty intense potty training here??? How could you?

Dear hubby arrived home for lunch. The conversation went much like the refrigerator variety only a couple of weeks prior. He wanted to try to repair it. This time I didn’t fight. I just needed it done.

DH claimed operator error. (Very funny.) I had a hunch. A theory. What if one of those tiny little girl socks had creeped over the edge of the basin and lodged just so that it jammed the spin cycle? He balked and still cried operator error. *sigh*

Three days later, (and laundry accumulating all the while…) my sweetheart finally made an attempt to fix the washing machine. Thanks to the manual, YouTube videos, and the company of a friend, he managed to disassemble my nemesis.

And lo and behold… a tiny sock wedged. Just so.

I was half-right. But to be fair, so was he. This “operator,” in a zealous quest to conquer the laundry overfilled the machine. Again.

Guilty. As. Charged.

If anyone needs me, I will be up to my eyeballs in a week’s worth of laundry.

But not until after I’ve had a coffee… or two.

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Coverings.

Posted on February 27, 2012 by Kelly

I have daughters.

Three. Pretty. Girls.

They are my dearest treasure. The joy of my heart. Love made real.

They are bubbly, vivacious, and cunning. They are 7, 5, and 2. And did I mention they are beautiful?

How does one guard and protect such stunning effervescence from the wiles of a wayward world? My sweetheart continually prays that God would “shield them from the eyes of wicked men.” Could sweeter words be prayed over these precious gifts?

So much to live for. So much to be gained. So much ahead. I want nothing to hinder what goodness lies in wait for the future of my angels.

And what should prompt such an intense line of thinking? Today, I commenced bathing suit shopping.

For 7. 5. And 2.

Label me a prude if you must, but I did not anticipate such a difficult task for…

7. 5. And 2.

My dear husband was specific about his standards in the most affectionately paternal way possible. I can’t imagine anything more tender than a father desiring a covering for his daughters. In the same way that he covers them in prayer, in wisdom, and in discipline.

In the same way my father did for me.

I found success in our quest. But I only expect such things to grow more difficult with each passing year. I do not pass judgment, but simply provoke my own heart to guard, in all things, those which have been entrusted to me.

My deepest desire is that my sweet little girls remain sweet little girls for as

Long. As. Possible.

Love and coffee…


Peanut, Ladybug, & Lovey

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On winter.

Posted on February 24, 2012 by Kelly

It certainly has been an unusual Iowa winter. Temps soaring well into the 50s and 60s and hardly any snow. I have to say I am disappointed. I kind of anticipated a rip-roaring sort of winter and my, what a let-down.

As I write, one more insignificant snow is under way. Probably less than two inches. And since they are forecasting 40s and 50s for the weekend, I don’t expect my little white miracle to last long.

As February is drawing quickly to a close, I will admit that I am beginning to long for spring. We have had one fairly decent snow, pounded each other in a snowball fight, and constructed a regal blue Snow Queen. It is somewhat hard to believe that only two years ago we were digging out from three major blizzards and a monster of an ice storm that left us without power for nearly four days.

My sweet girls (including my then-only-months-old Lovey) were bundled head-to-toe in coats and snow pants. Inside. When all was said and done the temperature was down to just 41 degrees. Inside. The first night was the longest. We nary slept a wink, flinching at every boom-pop-fizzle-flash of transformers blowing all over town and listening to the crick-a-crack of weighted ice-branches free-falling (and praying they were mostly landing away from the house).

All five of us snuggled together in one of the girls’ bedrooms during those nights (the one furthest from the trees.) Still bundled up and buried under every blanket, sleeping bag, and bed comforter we could gather, we fell asleep ridiculously early, just after dark. We told stories by candlelight and fell asleep to the battery-powered radio.

Walking to the car meant performing a carefully choreographed routine over every ice-glossed surface and going as quickly and non-haphazardly as one could to avoid any rogue branches on their way down.

That winter, we shoveled. And shoveled. And shoveled. And selfishly wished for a snow blower. And then shoveled some more.

Now that was a winter I could be proud of.

A few memorable moments from Winter 2009-2010: