It's been almost a year since my last post, which is kind of embarrassing, but then again, it does illustrate how demands on your mommying time changes as your kids get older, and the days get shorter. With baby #2 on the way its got me thinking about why I started this blog in the first place. Mostly...thoughts like, "I am I the only one thinking this crazy thought or it this normal" and "Holy cow, did my kid just do that." It's amazing how overwhelming and life altering having your first child is in the whole scheme of life impacting events. Like a 8.5 on the Ricter Scale.
So often being a mom leaves you feeling somewhere between superwoman and a complete failure. Preparing for the birth of our son in the next 8 weeks has got me reminiscing about how different it feels this time around. Now don't get me wrong - I'm still freaking out about the fact that we are going to be dealing with serious sleep deprivation and a 3 year old in addition to a new born, but some how I find comfort in knowing that I've survived it once and will likely survive it again. My hope is to chronicle again what those first weeks, months, and year bring given how dramatically different our family is since the birth of our first child. Here's counting down...
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Naked Butt
That's what my daugther says every evening as I undress her for her bath. This is usually followed by me chasing her little naked self down the hall at 60 miles an hour. Every mom know what I mean - they may be small, but they've got lightening in their toes! So you may be wondering where she learned a phrase like "naked butt". Me too?! That's not usually typical banter for a 22 month old...she's advanced. Okay, she learned it from me. I now know the error of my ways and am trying to transition her over to the preferred phase "naked bottom". I'm not sure it's going to take. Oh well, so she won't have any manners. You can get through life without manners, right? We'll know better for the next child.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
An Advent Reality Check
Check out the video about the true meaning of advent at www.adventconspiracy.org
An Inspirational Story
(I don't know if this is truth or fiction, but either way it is a good daily reflection.)
We were the only family with children in the restaurant. I sat Erik in a high chair and noticed everyone was quietly sitting and talking. Suddenly, Erik squealed with glee and said, "Hi."
He pounded his fat baby hands on the high chair tray. His eyes were crinkled in laughter and his mouth was bared in a toothless grin, as he wriggled and giggled with merriment. I looked around and saw the source of his merriment. It was a man whose pants were baggy with a zipper at half-mast and his toes poked out of would-be shoes. His shirt was dirty and his hair was uncombed and unwashed. His whiskers were too short to be called a beard and his nose was so varicose it looked like a road map. We were too far from him to smell, but I was sure he smelled. His hands waved and flapped on loose wrists.
"Hi there, baby; hi there, big boy. I see ya, buster," the man said to Erik.
My husband and I exchanged looks, 'What do we do?' Erik continued to laugh and answer, 'Hi.' Everyone in the restaurant noticed and looked at us and then at the man. The old geezer was creating a nuisance with my beautiful baby. Our meal came and the man began shouting from across the room.
"Do ya patty cake? Do you know peek-a-boo? Hey, look, he knows peek- a-boo."
Nobody thought the old man was cute. He was obviously drunk. My husband and I were embarrassed. We ate in silence; all except for Erik, who was running through his repertoire for the admiring skid-row bum, who in turn, reciprocated with his cute comments. We finally got through the meal and headed for the door. My husband went to pay the check and told me to meet him in the parking lot. The old man sat poised between me and the door. 'Lord, just let me out of here before he speaks to me or Erik,' I prayed.
As I drew closer to the man, I turned my back trying to sidestep him and avoid any air he might be breathing. As I did, Erik leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a baby's 'pick-me-up' position. Before I could stop him, Erik had propelled himself from my arms to the man. Suddenly a very old smelly man and a very young baby consummated their love and kinship. Erik in an act of total trust, love, and submission laid his tiny head upon the man's ragged shoulder. The man's eyes closed, and I saw tears hover beneath his lashes. His aged hands full of grime, pain, and hard labor, cradled my baby's bottom and stroked his back. No two beings have ever loved so deeply for so short a time. I stood awestruck. The old man rocked and cradled Erik in his arms and his eyes opened and set squarely on mine.
He said in a firm commanding voice, "You take care of this baby."
Somehow I managed, "I will," from a throat that contained a stone.
He pried Erik from his chest, lovingly and longingly, as though he were in pain. I received my baby, and the man said, "God bless you, ma'am, you've given me my Christmas gift."
I said nothing more than a muttered thanks. With Erik in my arms, I ran for the car. My husband was wondering why I was crying and holding Erik so tightly, and why I was saying, 'My God, my God, forgive me.' I had just witnessed Christ's love shown through the innocence of a tiny child who saw no sin, who made no judgment; a child who saw a soul, and a mother who saw a suit of clothes. I was a Christian who was blind, holding a child who was not. I felt it was God asking, 'Are you willing to share your son for a moment?' when He shared His for all eternity. The ragged old man, unwittingly, had reminded me, "To enter ... , we must become as little children."
Sometimes, it takes a child to remind us of what is really important. We must always remember who we are, where we came from and, most importantly, how we feel about others. The clothes on your back or the car that you drive or the house that you live in does not define you at all; it is how you treat your fellow man that identifies who you are.
We were the only family with children in the restaurant. I sat Erik in a high chair and noticed everyone was quietly sitting and talking. Suddenly, Erik squealed with glee and said, "Hi."
He pounded his fat baby hands on the high chair tray. His eyes were crinkled in laughter and his mouth was bared in a toothless grin, as he wriggled and giggled with merriment. I looked around and saw the source of his merriment. It was a man whose pants were baggy with a zipper at half-mast and his toes poked out of would-be shoes. His shirt was dirty and his hair was uncombed and unwashed. His whiskers were too short to be called a beard and his nose was so varicose it looked like a road map. We were too far from him to smell, but I was sure he smelled. His hands waved and flapped on loose wrists.
"Hi there, baby; hi there, big boy. I see ya, buster," the man said to Erik.
My husband and I exchanged looks, 'What do we do?' Erik continued to laugh and answer, 'Hi.' Everyone in the restaurant noticed and looked at us and then at the man. The old geezer was creating a nuisance with my beautiful baby. Our meal came and the man began shouting from across the room.
"Do ya patty cake? Do you know peek-a-boo? Hey, look, he knows peek- a-boo."
Nobody thought the old man was cute. He was obviously drunk. My husband and I were embarrassed. We ate in silence; all except for Erik, who was running through his repertoire for the admiring skid-row bum, who in turn, reciprocated with his cute comments. We finally got through the meal and headed for the door. My husband went to pay the check and told me to meet him in the parking lot. The old man sat poised between me and the door. 'Lord, just let me out of here before he speaks to me or Erik,' I prayed.
As I drew closer to the man, I turned my back trying to sidestep him and avoid any air he might be breathing. As I did, Erik leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a baby's 'pick-me-up' position. Before I could stop him, Erik had propelled himself from my arms to the man. Suddenly a very old smelly man and a very young baby consummated their love and kinship. Erik in an act of total trust, love, and submission laid his tiny head upon the man's ragged shoulder. The man's eyes closed, and I saw tears hover beneath his lashes. His aged hands full of grime, pain, and hard labor, cradled my baby's bottom and stroked his back. No two beings have ever loved so deeply for so short a time. I stood awestruck. The old man rocked and cradled Erik in his arms and his eyes opened and set squarely on mine.
He said in a firm commanding voice, "You take care of this baby."
Somehow I managed, "I will," from a throat that contained a stone.
He pried Erik from his chest, lovingly and longingly, as though he were in pain. I received my baby, and the man said, "God bless you, ma'am, you've given me my Christmas gift."
I said nothing more than a muttered thanks. With Erik in my arms, I ran for the car. My husband was wondering why I was crying and holding Erik so tightly, and why I was saying, 'My God, my God, forgive me.' I had just witnessed Christ's love shown through the innocence of a tiny child who saw no sin, who made no judgment; a child who saw a soul, and a mother who saw a suit of clothes. I was a Christian who was blind, holding a child who was not. I felt it was God asking, 'Are you willing to share your son for a moment?' when He shared His for all eternity. The ragged old man, unwittingly, had reminded me, "To enter ... , we must become as little children."
Sometimes, it takes a child to remind us of what is really important. We must always remember who we are, where we came from and, most importantly, how we feel about others. The clothes on your back or the car that you drive or the house that you live in does not define you at all; it is how you treat your fellow man that identifies who you are.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
A Tasty Recipe
If you're anything like me, figuring out what to make for dinner some nights is more difficult than 24 hours of labor followed by a c-section. I recently found a new recipe that fit my three criteria:
1) the whole family likes it,
2) it's healthy, and
3) I have everything I need already in the house
This recipe hit all three - home run!
Chicken & Zucchini Risotto Skillet
3 boneless chicken breasts, halved
salt & pepper
1 T olive oil
1/2 medium onion, chopped
2 garlic cloves, chopped
1/3 cup Parmesan cheese
1 lemon, zested
2 cups milk
1 can condensed cream of chicken soup
1 large zucchini (or 2 cups of any veggie you like asparagus, green beans, etc.)
2 cups of instant long grain rice*
Season chicken with salt and pepper. Heat oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add seasoned chicken and then cook for 5-7 minutes on each side or until chicken is no longer pink. Remove chicken from pan; keep warm. Add onion and garlic to pan and saute just to soften. Then add milk, soup, zucchini, cheese, lemon zest. Bring to boil and reduce heat. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Simmer 3 minutes. Stir in rice and then top with cooked chicken halves. Cover pan and remove from heat. Let stand for 5 minutes.
*I don't usually have this in the house, but I did have orzo pasta which worked great! I decreased the amount fof orzo from 2 cups to 1 cup and let it simmer on low heat (covered) until pasta was fully cooked. That took about 10 minutes.
1) the whole family likes it,
2) it's healthy, and
3) I have everything I need already in the house
This recipe hit all three - home run!
Chicken & Zucchini Risotto Skillet
3 boneless chicken breasts, halved
salt & pepper
1 T olive oil
1/2 medium onion, chopped
2 garlic cloves, chopped
1/3 cup Parmesan cheese
1 lemon, zested
2 cups milk
1 can condensed cream of chicken soup
1 large zucchini (or 2 cups of any veggie you like asparagus, green beans, etc.)
2 cups of instant long grain rice*
Season chicken with salt and pepper. Heat oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add seasoned chicken and then cook for 5-7 minutes on each side or until chicken is no longer pink. Remove chicken from pan; keep warm. Add onion and garlic to pan and saute just to soften. Then add milk, soup, zucchini, cheese, lemon zest. Bring to boil and reduce heat. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Simmer 3 minutes. Stir in rice and then top with cooked chicken halves. Cover pan and remove from heat. Let stand for 5 minutes.
*I don't usually have this in the house, but I did have orzo pasta which worked great! I decreased the amount fof orzo from 2 cups to 1 cup and let it simmer on low heat (covered) until pasta was fully cooked. That took about 10 minutes.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
A Bad Hair Day
Since I'm only on my first kid and she's only 18 months old I'm still pretty much grappling in the dark on a lot of things. She's at that age where she cries if I leave the room, but then doesn't want to come home when I go to pick her up from the babysitter (uugghh...knife to the heart!). I just had one of those days where I feel like I'm really not sure I doing that great of a job balancing my responsibilities. I felt like a dog chasing her tail all day, accomplishing nothing at work. I've taken on this huge new job that has me working more hours; which means time away from Cassie? On the one hand it's the opportunity of a lifetime to do something meaningful that is a deep expression of my beliefs, but what about Cassie? I know staying at home isn't what makes you a good mom, but sometimes I think about all the time I'm away from her and it feels like a big rock in my stomach. I could really benefit from some perspective from some moms with a little more time in the trenches...that and a good cry. So I've got the crying covered...anyone?
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Conference Call - Fantasy Weekend
For those of you interested in helping to plan the Mom's Retreat (see June 15, 2008 blog titled "Fantasy Weekend"), a conference call has been scheduled for Wed., Sept. 10th at 9:00pm. If you'd like to join us, please call into the following number:
1-888-617-3400
When prompted, dial passcode: 1005278# (Be sure to include the # when entering the passcode).
1-888-617-3400
When prompted, dial passcode: 1005278# (Be sure to include the # when entering the passcode).
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