Veggie Tales

There's something that will never be found on my blog. Ever. It's a staple for most mommy blogs but not mine. At least not without a miracle from God.

I will never post a recipe.

I love food.
Truly. Madly. Deeply.

But cooking.
Ew.
Hate it.

For as much as I love food, I should like to cook. I think about food. I make plans around food. I'll drive miles out of my way for food. Just don't ask me to cook.  I have two dishes that I make with relative success, but beyond that, I'm a hot mess. I manage to ruin every recipe I get my hands on. I used to think Matt just wasn't really a "dinner person" until we moved in with his parents. Turns out he likes dinner just fine as long as his mom's cooking. Though he'd never admit it, he makes his plans on whether or not to eat dinner based on who cooked.

A typical conversation of ours goes is as follows:
"Are you planning on eating dinner?"
Pause.
"Who's cooking?"
"I was going to make _______ (insert anything)."
"Hmm, I had a pretty big lunch. I'm not that hungry."

So the story goes.

I can't say that I blame him, but still, how's a girl supposed to improve if she never has the opportunity?

Here's the other problem though. I hate touching raw meat. I hate even looking at it. The smell, the texture, everything about it makes me sick. When it's cooked I'm as carnivorous as can be, but if I have to handle it myself I  can't get it out of my mind what it looked like before being cooked. I mean, the feel of a once living being's flesh between my fingers makes me want to vomit. When I'm chewing, all I can think about is how gross it is that I'm eating something that was alive. Weird, I know. What's weirder is the fact that I rarely have these thoughts if the meat was cooked by someone else. Give me a nice steak marsala from Carrabba's and I'm a happy girl. Have me season some chicken before Matt throws it on the grill and I'm done. Cooking almost makes me want to be a vegetarian. Not a real vegetarian- just a when-I'm-cooking-vegetarian. I've run the idea by Matt but he's not for it. He likes his meat, but since he doesn't like my cooking to begin with, what's the difference, right? Right. Maybe meat has been the problem all along though. What if there's a great vegetarian cook trapped inside of me, desperate to get out?

So, with that said, I need some good vegetarian recipes to ruin.
Can anyone help a sista out?

Life As Three Seconds From Insanity

Life as art? Hahaha- Monday's post mocks me here on Friday. This week it's more like life as surviving without poking my eyes out. Or life as three seconds away from losing my sanity. Or life when your child's your thorn in the flesh. Yep- it's been one of those weeks.

Em has always been prone to tantrums. She's had some doozies but had been doing really well for quite a while. She had a rough patch in the time period right before she could really talk and her method of communication became the freak-out. Then when Jax was first born she threw some hissy fits, which have continued off and on since June. The past month or two have been hard, but we've tried to be consistent with her when I know life is pretty inconsistent right now. When Matt's gone (like this week) the fits usually peak, but this week...oh- a total mountaintop experience. I mean, my girl peaked.

It started off at the gym when she decided to bite her bro. On the head. Poor sweet, unassuming Jax who smiles 90% of the day started wailing as I had just put him down to get a diaper out of my bag. I knew instantly that it had to have been the result of a bite, so when I saw his wet forehead with huge teeth marks in it I wasn't surprised. I handed my sobbing Jax over to the childcare worker, spanked my Em, and subsequently watched her fall into the tantrum to end all tantrums. She freaked. She screamed, she cried, she flailed. It was awful. And she did it the whole way out the door. So there I was with a baby in one arm, trying to pick up my psycho two-year old with the other arm. It's a darn good thing I've been working out. We got about halfway to the car (it's a looooong way to the car) when I put her down and just started walking. This was a great lesson for me to learn. Two-year olds don't realize that they won't really be left behind. Muhahaha. I used that trick more than once this week. Yeees.

Back to the biting though. Unfortunately, it's become a pattern. As in, she's bitten her little brother in the toes twice before the head incident and just last week bit her best buddy on the cheek. So, I did something that no parent ever wants to do. I bit my child. The whole idea of "this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you" was so true in this situation. It was an awful feeling. Very calmly, on the ride home, I told her what I was going to do and explained to her why. Then I tested it on my own arm to figure out the balance of not too hard, but hard enough to have an impact. I called a friend who had done the same thing and whose child never bit again. Then I swallowed down my own tears and went up to her room. I guess this is what they call tough love. I don't like it at all.

The week didn't improve either. She threw tantrums all week and I truly don't know what to do. She just did again this afternoon. I've tried everything. I stay calm even when I'm seething inside. So what in the world can I do? What's the one thing I haven't tried yet? There's gotta be something. Is it just me? Am I just a terrible parent? Oh my word. HEEEEEEELLLLLLLLPPPPPPP MMMMMMEEEEEEEEEE.

Life as Art

Emma's really into coloring these days. She's pretty good at it too, for a two-year old. I love watching her creativity develop. She'll draw circles all over the page and tell me that she made a giraffe. She likes her art abstract. My nine-year old niece called me yesterday for advice on a monologue she's going to use to audition for community theater. I hope she continues to seek out opportunities to be part of the telling of great stories.

All of life has some element of art to it. I love that God has placed this innate desire in our hearts to create, to make things beautiful, to tell rich stories. To be a part of something. God is the ultimate creative genius, but he lets us be a part of creation. He's been doing it from the beginning. Even after forming the world and proclaiming it good, he allowed Adam and Eve to continue with the work, to cultivate the space around them, using their own minds and hands to make it even better. What's even more amazing is that he knew we would sin and mess things up, and he still allowed us to be part of the creative process. What artist lets amatuers take his work and add their own touches? A generous and confident One that knows that He cannot be outdone. No matter how good or bad the other artists are, they ultimately just highlight the works of the Original. When I backpacked in Europe, I visited countless churches and cathedrals and saw great works of art, but nothing made by man compared to the Meditteranean coast or mountains of Austria. I was literally awestruck by the greatness of God while walking the mountains of Cinque Terra, where every turn produced an even more breathtaking view. And the God who created all of this invites us to be a part of the continual creative process.

Life is constant motion. We all have our own little space that he's given us to cultivate and keep. He's given me gifts and talents to use along the way, but my whole identity is secured in Him. I don't have to be anxious about not getting it right or failing. I don't have to operate in crisis mode, like I was in this post. Even when life seems mundane, whether it's cleaning the house or learning to raise my children, it's all the work of taking something as it is and cultivating it's potential. I just have to be faithful with the palette He's put before me and trust that He will make it into something beautiful.

Where It All Began...

Six years ago these kiddos were merely a twinkle in our eyes.

Six years ago, Matt pulled into the parking lot of the Cedarville gorge, took my hand, and asked, "Want to go on an adventure?" Such a loaded question.

There are several gorges where we lived, but this particular one had significance to me from our college days. One of my first days as a freshman, I went on a class walk there, where I had my first, awkward conversations with people that would become my friends. I remember hiding from the police with random people after bridge-jumping at this gorge. Throughout my college years I would often go running there with my girlfriends, sometimes ending up just laughing together or swimming in the deeper parts of the creek. Matt and I would take walks there together, where I learned of our shared love of nature and that he could identify plants and knew the names of the each layer of the rock walls. There were times that I would escape to the gorge to have a good cry by myself or look for God when I had trouble seeing Him in the middle of my Christian college. I loved it there.

But back to the proposal...

We got out of the car and he dragged me lead me through the trail, tripping over roots and rocks, almost breaking our ankles. A flashlight probably would have been a good idea, but I suppose a pitch-black rocky trail was more our style. We got to a staircase that was lit with candles that lead to a rose-covered blanket with an open Bible and two bottles of Jones soda. He read I Corinthians 13 to me, said lots of nice things that I can no longer remember, and got down on his knee and asked me to marry him.

I'm so glad I said yes.

Homecoming

A couple weeks ago we headed back to Ohio for the first time since leaving two years ago. It was Matt's five year reunion and since I'm always up for a sixteen hour drive with two young children, on we went. Matt's mom was nice enough to make the trip with me, so we could take extra time and Matt wouldn't have to take off more time from work. We split the trip up, stopping at Joel and Terri's in Atlanta. We got to spend an entire day with Terri, doing what three women with two children do- shop, eat, and shop some more. Em and Jax are well trained for such excursions. The next morning we were on our merry way.

It's always funny stepping back on Cedarville's campus. Not much has changed; the Cedarville culture that existed while I was there is still in place. The students still look the same, dress the same, and use the same lingo. Case in point- while out to dinner at Chili's the night before with my sister-in-law and a couple of her friends, one girl was describing a possible crush-worthy boy and used the same inflection as I remember my own friends using while saying said boy was "quality." Yep. So many Cedarville boys in my day were described as qual-it-y during a quality conversation in the dorm while stuffing our faces with pretzels and nutella. Those were the days.

We got to catch up with lots of friends at the alumni soccer game where all the once soccer girlfriends were toting our now soccer babies and watching our almost thirty-year old husbands try not to injury themselves on the field. I also got to have lunch in Yellow Springs with two of my favorite people from college whose lives are so totally different from mine right now, but whom I'll always be able to connect with. I love relationships like that.

We were able to get a couple fall(ish) activities in on Friday with the kids. And by fallish activities I mean going to an apple orchard that wasn't producing any apples to pick. Boo. We got a few cute pics of the kids with some gourds though. It was the best we could do. We also took the kids to where it all began- the gorge where Matt asked me to marry him. Actually, today is six years to the day that he proposed. One of these days I'll blog about that.

Saturday afternoon was a washout. It rained all during the soccer game, which is not fun in the Ohio cold. Literally two minutes into the game Jax and I called it quits and sat in the car. Nursing in a cold rain is not on my bucket list. All plans of catching up with people that we had missed thus far were ruined. We also made the mistake of attending Matt's reunion. Unlike my involved-in-campus-life friends that I graduated with, we forgot that Matt's friends were all too cool for such events. Can't say we knew more than 3% of the 250 people that attended. Oh well.

At 4:30 the next morning Emma woke up coughing, which woke Jax up. With two kids and a mommy that couldn't go back to sleep we did the only logical thing- we hit the road. We were stopping in Atlanta again and since Matt hadn't seen Joel and Terri on the way up, we thought we'd get there in time to actually spend some time with them. A good choice on our part. Along with being able to hang out, we were able to have Pinkberry for the third time that week. Score.

I think we might attempt the trip again in May for Tim's graduation. Too bad we didn't go to school in a more exotic location. Or at least not in a cornfield. Note to self: when it comes time for my children to attend college, think Westmont.

Sickest. Story. Ever.

If you're squeamish you should just stop reading. I swear, this will make you throw up. Mom, I guarantee you can't handle this post. You will throw up in your mouth. And if you don't throw up, you'll at least look at your little granddaughter differently, and I wouldn't want that. She really likes you. I'm not sure what your feelings towards her will be if you continue. Seriously, if you're still reading, let me just say you were warned. It is officially out of my hands.

Today Emma kept telling me to look in her mouth. She had it wide open and I obliged but didn't see anything. I turned back to what I was doing but she wouldn't let it go.

"Wook Mommy, wook!" Distracted, I turned around again to see. Nothing.

"What Em? I don't see anything. What am I looking at?"

"A boogie!"

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Gag me with a wooden spoon; I thought I was going to vomit all over my child.

It gets worse.

"That's gross, Em. Don't ever do that again."

"It's not gwoss, Mommy! It's yummy!"

Oh. My. Goodness.

Are you kidding me? What do you do when you get visions of your two year old being the completely socially awkward kid in grade school? How do you handle it?? If I make a big deal out of it, I know she'll just think it's funny and keep doing it. Of course I have to address it. Are you stern or playful about it? I chose the stern route. I don't know. We'll see. I know she has no chance if another kid sees her do it (well, in a few years at least). I knew a kid in late elementary school who was a boogie-eater and it's forever burned into my memory. I knew him throughout high school too, but the first thing that comes to mind, to this day, when I think of him is booger. When I got a facebook friend request from him, it was the first thing that popped into my mind. Poor guy. I can't let that happen to my Emma.

Let Mama Sleep

For the last several days I've felt mostly like this

Because this little guy

has been doing VERY little of this

Back in college I used to pull all-nighters on a fairly regular basis. Some would say I tend to procrastinate. I say I work best under pressure. My first year teaching, I would stay out until midnight and then have to leave by 6:40 in order to get to school by the skin of my teeth on time. Some would call this irresponsible. I call it young and in love (which usually equals stupid and irresponsible). In those days, I could function fairly well with only a few hours of sleep. I had to. There were tests to take, papers to assign. Now I can hardly form a coherent thought, much less articulate it, when I don't get enough sleep. This past week Jax has been waking up every two hours...and then staying awake for 45 minutes...which equals much less sleep than I require. Matt was out of town, so I was at it alone for three nights. When he returned I was hoping for him to have grown some soothing breasts, but alas, he hadn't. He did hold him on his chest much of one night though, a huge help. I'm just really hoping for a good night soon. Last night he only got up twice (but didn't go back down well), which was better, but at this point I'm so exhausted that I just really need a decent stretch.

He is such a sweet baby though. During the day he's a momma's dream. He smiles as soon as I look at him and laughs just as easily. He's just a chill little guy that I love so much. I just wish he'd sleep through the night.

Heard in My Hoopty

"Mommy, I want to go blueberry picking. I want to go blueberry picking so much."

"It's okay, Jax, it's okay. We're almost home. It's okay, it's okay... Be quiet, Jax! Jax be QUIET!"

"Mommy, the man (on the radio) said BUS!!"

"Mommy, the man said God!"

"I wanna hear our favorite song! OoooooOOOh, ooohhh somfin beautiful!"

"I wuv you, Mommy."

"Aaaww, you love me, baby?"

"Mmm..I love watermelon!"

"I want to go to Starbuck's. I want madewines and ice water."

"I want a cookie. I want a cookie so bad."

"Wook Mommy! The man's dwiving your car!"

"What did you learn about in church today, Em?"

"Um, Jesus."

"Oh you learned about Jesus? Anything else?"

"Mary...everywhere that Mary went."

"There's a rainbow. God did it?"

"There's a bird. God did it?"

"There's the car wash. God did it?"

Throwback

I've always been a pretty easygoing, carefree person.

Except...

for a period of time around the end of college.

Those first years out of school were a tumultuous time for me as I tried to sort through a lot of different issues in relationships, my faith in God (or sometimes lack there of), and figuring out what my identity really was found in. There were times when I literally felt like I was going crazy, but looking back, the words "But... God" stick with me. "But because of his great love for us, God who is rich in mercy, made us alive in Christ..." Thankfully the Lord didn't leave me where I was but lead me to see Him. It's funny- a lot of the same things that I learned in those years I've been reminded of over the last several months...minus the feelings of craziness this time around, thank goodness. Anyways- I found something I wrote while I was coming through it that I thought I'd share...

INSPIRE ME.

Don't lecture me. Talk to me.

Your formulas confuse me. If so much can be simplified, than what's it saying about me if I never get it right?

Don't put me in a box, or I'll get out. One way or another. Even if it's kicking or screaming, I can't stay there. It's too dark. And lonely. It makes me want to scream.

I don't want you to be perfect. I don't want to hear about how you are. I could never unload on you because I don't think you could handle it.

It's okay though.

There was a time when I couldn't either. I didn't realize it. I was caught up in my own perfection and goodness. I didn't know. I just didn't know.

There's unbelievable safety here though. In breaking free. It's not as you think it would be. There are no ten steps or bullet points.

I wish you could know it. It's messy sometimes. And it hurts like hell. But there's peace. And gentleness. And forgiveness.

You don't even realize how much you don't deserve it. Forgiveness. Being a child of God. I know you think you deserve it, at least more than others do. You'd never say it outloud of course. You may even be blind to your own thinking.

I know because I've been there.

But...

(But God...rich in mercy)

I've been shown love when words could be considered appropriate by those observing from afar. I've been shown grace, with a closed mouth and open arms. I've been shown mercy.

And that's just from mere humans that understand in a way better than I, the supernatural workings of a God that cares.

And if that isn't enough (it gets better!), there's Jesus. I'm shown a cross. By the only One who can truly claim perfection, who bore all the weight of the ugliness of all Time.

GOD in flesh. ROCKING people's worlds.

THAT'S inspiring.

My Other Fab Four

Between giving birth, vacationing with Matt's family, vacationing with my family, business trips, not living in our house, and just everyday life we've had to squeeze in family time wherever and whenever we could find a spare second.

We had our quick trip to Boston coming back from Maine.

Then we stopped for a day in Savannah on our way back from NC a couple weeks ago,

where we ate some nasty food because I was hungry, irritable, and too impatient to find a good restaurant. Boo. The place that we walked into served nothing (I mean nothing) but fried food, which made Matt sick for the rest of the night. It was a good time!

I wasn't the biggest fan of Savannah. It was okay, but a little too southern and Georgia smelly for me. We had fun exploring the next day, but I wouldn't put it on my list of cities to return to.

This past weekend we packed up the car and headed back to the beach for more family fun. We stayed right on the beach at a place where we've been with Matt's family a few times and hung out in the pool, looked for shells, and ate lots of yummy food. It's fun figuring out a new normal for our family of four. For two parents that love being active, it's definitely different with little ones, but exciting to introduce them to new things. I'm learning to enjoy just watching right now. I can't so much bend down with Jax in my carrier and look for shells with Em or jump in the waves with Matt, but I can enjoy just being with my son and watching my daughter bond with her daddy. Soon enough Jax'll be running around with his sister. It's really such a short time that I get to cuddle him. I swear the kid grows like a weed.

Emma loooved the hotel we stayed in. I mean, I understand why, but it was just cute how much she talked about it. In fact, as we were driving today she said," Mommy, I want to go back to the Hotel, Motel, Holiday Iiiiinnnn." Silly.

Now it's back to our routine.

Fall's in the air.

Except we live in FL so really it's not.