Girl's 14 Hours

Gigi and I got to spend 14 hours in Chicago yesterday. No kiddos. No hoosbands. No diaper bags. No juice boxes. No fighting. No whining.

It. Was. Awesome.

Why just Gigi and I? Because I needed the entire back seat and trunk for a few purchases I planned on making. And because I also needed a day away from kids. (Sorry boys - momma loves you. A lot. But sometimes I love you more from far away.)

Why Gigi? The reasons are many and plentiful. Here are just a few:

• She's really, really fun! (If you don't know her, you should!)
• I knew she'd want to go to the temple.
• I knew she'd want to go to all the stores I wanted to go to.
• I knew she could use some time away from her kiddos, too.
  
• We have a similar sense of humor and we both like to talk. Essential for six hours in a car!
• She gives good advice. On purchases and on life.
• She offered to buy me a 44 oz. soda.
• And lunch.
• Did I mention she's fun to hang out with?
• And have you seen this girl load huge boxes into a car and tie the trunk closed with twine? It's a work of art, people.
  

First we went to the temple, which was wonderful. (As always! But more so because we weren't worried about kiddos because they were at home with the Dads.) I haven't been so at peace in quite a while.

Next, we hit The Cheesecake Factory. It was ten times yummier because we were starving. Ironically, we were so full at the end of the meal that we didn't have room for a piece of cheesecake. Oh well, next time then.

Then it was on to The Container Store. We all know how I feel about The Container Store, and I think I may have converted Gigi, too. (Although with it's prices, it's more a fun place to just browse and brainstorm rather than actually buy!)

And finally, we hit IKEA. And we hit it hard. It was so nice just to be able to browse, chat, get and give opinions about whether or not we should buy something... you know - shopping without kids. (I got some really cool stuff - but more about that later, once we've assembled it all.)

And then we ended the day the same way we started it: with a discussion-filled three hour car drive. We talked about anything and everything: our kids, our hoosbands, being married, church, Primary, growing up, our families, shoes, clothes, food, college, high school, intergalactic space travel... wait.

My voice was actually hoarse this morning.

It was great.

Anyways, we have decided to make this an annual event. Much needed, greatly anticipated, jam-packed full of entertainment, and just plain fun.

The only thing we forgot to do was take pictures. Oh well, next year.

Thanks for a great day, Gigi!

(And even bigger thanks to Lance for taking the day off and watching the boys. I love you!)

The ABC's of Maren

I don't usually like tags, but I liked the one Gigi did on her blog, so I'm copying her. Especially because we're all about the ABCs in our house right now - Joshie makes us sing them all the time. So, in the immortal words of Joshie, "Ready... Go!"

A - Attached or single: Tres tres attached.
B - Best Friend: My hoosband, Shmance. (Another thing I have copied from Gigi - her use of the fun word "hooseband". Gigi is fun to copy because she is so great. Try it today.)
C - Cake or Pie: Oy, eating-wise, it's a tie. Making-wise... it's still a tie.
D - Day: Sunday. (But mainly because I usually get an afternoon nap. I know, I'm a spiritual giant.)
E - Essential Item: Zyliss Pizza Cutter. (You still don't have one? How sad. Stay tuned.)
F - Favorite Color: Blue.
G - Gummy Bears or Worms: Um, not so much into the gummies. So my answer is Peanut Butter M&M's.
H - Home town: Fairfield, CA - although now I guess I'm an official Hoosier of Lafayette, IN.
I - Indulgences: Blogging.
J - January or July: July.
K - Kids: Spencer (4 1/2) and Joshie (23 mos).
L - Life is incomplete without: A good sense of humor.
M - Marriage Date: August 16, 2000.
N - Number of Siblings: Two younger brothers, Kyle and Kevin.
O - Obsession: Pumpkins.
P - Phobias or Fears: Tsunamis. (I have nightmares about them. You know, since Indiana is so prone to them and all...)
Q - Quote: "The most important thing she'd learned over the years was that there was no way to be a perfect mother and a million ways to be a good one." - Jill Churchill
R - Reason to Smile: I get to go to the temple tomorrow with Gigi! (Gigi Gigi Gigi - it really is all about her.)
S - Season: Fall.
T - Talents: Organization.
U - Unknown fact about me: I've been skinny dipping in the Sea of Galilee.
V - Vegetarian or Oppressor of Animal: Oppressor.
W - Worst Habit: Picking at my nails.
X - X-Rays or Ultrasounds: Okay, what? Um... I guess I've had more ultrasounds in my life.
Y - Your favorite food: Thai.
Z - Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius.

Spencer the Artist

One thing I have never been accused of is being overly-sentimental. Especially about things. I've learned that too much sentimentality over things = clutter. And I HATE clutter.

So when it came to Spencer's preschool art I was kind of torn about what to do. On the on hand, it was really cute and looking at it made me feel all motherly and happy that he was in preschool. So I put it up on the walls all around his desk in the office, which made him really happy and feel proud.

Win-win.

Except that preschool starts again next week, so I had to take down all the art to make room for the next crop. What to do, what to do? I wanted to be able to keep a record of the art for Spencer (and for me!), but I didn't really want to have to find a place to store that mountain of construction paper.

Thank heaven for digital cameras! I decided to take a picture of each piece so that Spencer can look at them whenever he wants. He loves it, I love that I could guiltily throw them away, and I even made this really cool collage out of them that I'm thinking of blowing up and having printed because it's pretty cool looking. (Maybe I could do it each year, frame them, and hang them up in his room? How cool would that be?!)

And, okay, I decided to keep a few. I'm not completely heartless.

My Gentle Giant Meets Mr. Face Ripper

Okay, more bad mothering on my part today.

But in my defense, it was pretty funny bad mothering.

So we were at Sam's Club this morning, trying to get only the six items that were on my list and failing miserably at it. (As my $150 total can attest to.)

We soon discovered that the Halloween decorations were already up because it's already August 28th. (Yikes! They almost missed the two-month-early mark!) And so of course we had to go take a look because there were lots of lights and sounds and an incredibly huge blow-up lawn arch thingy.

And this guy.
The Face Ripper 70" Animatronic Halloween Character. Only I didn't know at the time that's what he was. All I knew was that he was beckoning us with "Hey! You! Come over here. I've got somthin' to show you. Yeah, you. Look here."

What else could we do but go up right up to him?

Josh was sitting in the cart, almost at eye level with Mr. Face Ripper.

"Look mommy! Look! Talking! Big eyes!" He was quite excited.

And then Mr. Face Ripper started his act. "Hey you. Can you do this?" And he placed his hands up to his face.
Josh followed suit and put his hands on his face.

Mr. Face Ripper continued. "Can you do this?" And places his hands on his face. Again.

Josh does the same. Again.

Once more for Mr. Face Ripper. "Well, that's not so great. But can you do THIS?!"

At this point, surprisingly, Mr. Face Ripper rips off his face.
Joshie freaks out.

I mean really freaks out. Shrieking, crying, grabbing me by the shirt and trying to climb up my torso while simultaneously trying to get out of the cart. (A lot like his reaction in the videos here or here.)

And what did Spencer and I do? Laugh. A lot. Hard and long. So much so that I could barely move the cart away from Mr. Face Ripper. The tears in my eyes were blurring my vision, but I could still see the other people around us, staring as if I were nutso.

Or the worst mother in the world.

Oh well, it ends happily. Josh calmed down and then for the rest of the trip kept begging to go back to the "Hayyoween show".

Who's the nutso one, hmm?

Primary Activity - Pioneers

Saturday morning was our first Primary activity. I think it rocked. (Although I might be a bit biased.) We had a Pioneer Roundup. I know - Pioneer Day was in July. But we were all out of town then and figured the kids wouldn't care if it was a month late. They didn't.

There were lots of fun pioneer stories, pioneer songs, and games and activities. (The buffalo chip throw, marbles, eggs-in-apron relay, making whirlygigs, etc.) We even churned our own butter in baby food jars and made freezer bag ice cream. Messy, but yum.

We had about 30 kids come, and by and large I think they enjoyed themselves and maybe even learned a thing or two. The only problem was that the lawn was too wet for us to be on, so we had to meet in the Cultural Hall. (Or gym, for all of you who don't 'speak' Mormon!) What is it about the Cultural Hall that makes little kids have to run? It's as if it's part of their genetic code; they walk in there and it's: MUST. RUN. NOW. Someone should do a study.

My presidency and I had worked on this activity quite a bit for the past few weeks. To be honest, I had a real struggle 'getting in the mood' for it. I just didn't want to plan or work or anything. Bleh. But once I really got down to the wire and was forced to get some work done, my bad attitude changed.

I was in charge of the pioneer stories. As I read and studied, I was once again inspired by the endurance, fortitude, and triumph of the pioneers. All of the hardships and struggles they went through still amaze me. I was definitely born in the right century; I would not have made a very good pioneer.

*Side note*
Here are a few phrases you probably would have heard from me had I been a pioneer crossing the plains:

• We have to cross the Platte river again?! But we just did that like a week ago!
• I love the smell of burning buffalo chips in the morning. Not.
• You know what this cornbread and dried meat needs? A little fire roasted salsa, baby!
  
• Oh, let me just tell you where you can push that handcart, Brother Shadrach...
  
• I have to use the bathroom where?
  
• No, Hezekiah. I know I'm an old maid of 14, but I won't marry you!
  
• Are we there yet?
• This is the place?

*Thus endeth the random side note*

I made some attention getters for the children to look at and hold while I told stories:

• little paper covered wagons and oxen
• a corncob doll
• corn husks
• beef jerky (Tastes good now - but for every meal for three months? Not so much.)
• a pint jar water with borax in it (to show what the alkali water looked like)
• a buffalo puppet (mmm... tatonka)
• a map showing the Mormon Trail (And corresponding distances. McDonald's? Only two miles from the church. The library? Only four and a half. The Mormon Trail? 1300 miles long. Amazing.)

But the thing that got to me most was the pint jar of flour and the small loaf of bread I made from that amount. I read a story of a handcart company that took longer than expected, so they had to ration their food. At one point they were down to one pint of flour per day. (The children got even less.)

One pint. That's only two cups.

And they were walking upwards of 15 miles a day. In the snow.

They didn't have fleece or parkas or even shoes that were made specifically for left and right feet. They had cotton fabric that soaked up snow like a sponge. They had to sleep outside in the elements. They lost their loved ones and their lives to the cold, to starvation, to disease.

What in the world kept them going? Why would they go through all that they did? What gave them the determination, the endurance, the sheer force of will to follow through on their goal?

Faith.

Faith in the true and living gospel of Jesus Christ. Faith that the gospel had been restored here on earth. Faith that moving West would relieve them from the heartache and danger they had been through with the mobs in Missouri, Illinois, and everywhere else they had settled.

I want the faith of a pioneer. I need it. I'm working on it. This primary activity served as a reminder of the direction I need to take and the work I need to do to increase my faith. I may not have to walk 1300 miles, but I certainly have other 'plains' I need to cross. And, whether you're Mormon or not, so do you.

Westward ho, my friends.

New Blog - Cake Wrecks

Well, we all know about my torrid relationship with cake. (As in, I can't seem to make one look right. Tastes great - looks stupid. Whatever.)

Well, as soon as I heard of this blog, I knew it was for me: Cake Wrecks.

The blogger shows pictures of cakes that are just plain weird, either in how they look or what they say. And these are supposedly done by professionals, mind you. (As in somebody actually paid for these cakes.) (Yikes.)

I feel better about my cake making every time I read it.

Enjoy. And you're welcome.

Dr. Destructo Strikes Again... or Not

I left the living room for all of two minutes this afternoon and came back to find this.

Me: Who did this?!!?

Spencer: Joshie

Joshie: Spaycer

More questions were asked.

More unsuitable answers were given.

The buck was passed. Several times.

Timeouts were generously given to all.

This is why we can't have nice things.

Gnochhi Baby

There are few things better than homemade gnocchi.

Question: Why in the world would anyone make homemade gnocchi?

Answer: You have obviously never had homemade gnocchi, or you wouldn't waste time with such ridiculous questions.

So Josh and I decided to make some gnocchi today. It's actually pretty easy and oh-so worth any time and effort put into it.

As Josh would say, "One, free, nine, GO!"

First, you take two good-sized russet potatoes, peel and quarter them, and cover them with water in a heavy pot. Boil, covered, for 15 minutes. When they're done, drain, and then put them back in the hot pot for a few minutes to get rid of the steam and excess water.

Next take your potato ricer and rice those potatoes.

Wait, who in the world has a potato ricer? Not me. Because who needs another kitchen gadget that has only one purpose? I prefer my mesh colander, which works just fine, thank you very much.


So smoosh all the potatoes through the colander and you get something like this. Mmmm... ricey potatoes.


Then you make a well in the potatoes and sprinkle on one cup of flour. Whisk together one egg, one tsp of salt, and 1/2 tsp of pepper. Pour the egg into the well. Then explain to your almost-two-year-old that, no, he may NOT eat the egg, no matter how much he wants to. Gross.


Mix that stuff all up. Swat your toddler's hand every once in a while to keep it from grabbing bits of dough. Because salty toddler tears do not taste good in gnocchi.


Now you knead the dough a dozen or so times. All the while still trying to keep that pesky toddler away. (What in the world is his fascination with my secret dough of mystery?!)


Now, use your super-fabulous-can't-live-without-it Zyliss pizza cutter and divide the dough into four parts. (Oh, you don't have a Zyliss? I weep for you.)


Then you start a-rollin'!


This is the part where a toddler comes in handy. He will be sure to tell you if your 'snakes' are the right size or not. (About 1/2" round is what you're shooting for.)


Next, you use that life-changing Zyliss and cut those 'snakes' into 3/4" pieces. (What? You still don't have a Zyliss? I'll keep you in my prayers tonight.)


Now, you roll the pieces against a fork. This gives the sauce you'll use a place to call home when it's time to eat.


To cook, boil in salted water for 30-60 seconds. You don't want to boil them for too long or they'll be slimy and tough.


I use them in one of my favorite meals of all time, which consists of: sage sausage, onions, fresh spinach, garlic, salt & pepper, and Parmesan.


Okay, that picture makes it look gross. But trust me - good. Because even my toddler and four year old ate it without a single "Eeeeewwww!" Which, I believe, makes it taste all the better.

Vegetable Sauce

My kids have been boring lately. That's not to say that they haven't been keeping me busy - they just haven't been as bloggable lately.

(Oh - except for the other day when Spencer was convinced that Daddies could have babies just like mommies. When I asked him why Daddy didn't have him or Josh he quickly and matter-of-factly replied "Because he was at work." Hmm. Well reasoned, Spencer.)

Anyways, this lack of blog fodder from the boys means that you get more cooking posts from me. Because I like to cook. And take pictures of it. And because I'm pretty sure you don't want posts about all the other stuff I do during the day: laundry, cleaning, breaking up knife fights, worry/stew about primary, etc...

So here we go. I'm all about the marinara sauce again this year. Okay, it's actually more of a veggie sauce, because I usually just throw in all the random veggies I can find. But don't tell the men in my life, or it'd be "Eeeewwww!!" every time I served it.

And what I don't need more of in my life is "Eeeewwww!!!"

Today I started with two yellow onions, chopped, and a couple teaspoons of garlic. And then I added in some sliced napa and red cabbage. Yes, cabbage. Don't judge - it's actually really good in the sauce. It gives it some body and a nice kick. Plus, I had a ton of it left over from another meal. (Misty, don't tell Paul. I'm sure he and his Italian cooking ideals would have fits over this. And I'm all about caring what Paul thinks of me. :)

Just saute that goodness until it's all nice and translucent and wilty. It'll smell waaay good.

But wait, it gets better.

Because then you go out to the garden and pick a bunch of random herbs to throw in. Like parsley, basil, thyme, and rosemary.


You chop all that fragrant gold up and toss it in. (I just throw the bunch of rosemary in whole. Just be sure to pull out the rosemary stem later. Because I can get cabbage in my sauce past my boys, but woody rosemary stems? Not so much.) While you're at it, throw in some salt and pepper. How much? How should I know? Just until it feels right.


Then, and this is where it gets good, you toss in a whole mess of chopped tomatoes. No need to make them pretty or even peel them.


Aren't those colors gorgeous? Anything that pretty has got to be delicious and good for you. And yes, those are yellow tomatoes in there. Because in my kitchen tomatoes of any creed, color, or religion are welcome. And eaten.


Now you simmer that veggie goodness for quite a while. Quite a while meaning, I don't know, an hour maybe? Until it looks done. Well, long enough to get your kids dressed, feed them a snack, unload the dishwasher, load the dishwasher, and make some gnocchi. So however long that is.


It's pretty good just like this. But I can't serve a sauce that has bits of *gasp* veggies in it! So I use one of my favorite Mother's Day presents ever to take care of that problem.


That's right, I got a hand mixer for Mother's Day one year. And I love it.

Just puree that sauce until it's nice and smooth. (Just like my hubby.)

And now for some stuff that I forgot to take pictures of. Mainly because I had a crazy almost-two-year-old literally attached to my legs. (Which makes for awkward movement of any kind, let alone food photography.) Where was I? Ah, yes. Now's the time you add in some tomato paste. I know, it's not quite as homemadey with the paste, but I don't care. It thickens it nicely and adds good flavor. Anywho, also add in about a quarter cup of lemon juice - yum. Trust me on this.

It sounds weird but tastes good. As do most of my recipes.

Self-portrait Tuesday: Bunko Call Out

A message for Baby Eli:


You are totally goin' down next bunko. You hear me? You had best prepare, because You. Are. Goin'. Down. Grrrr...

(*That's my tough look, in case you were wondering. It's hard not to laugh when you're threatening a really cute baby... I mean, my bunko nemesis.)

Garden Pleasures

Despite a bad case of bacterial leaf wilt my tomatoes are dealing with, my garden is actually doing pretty well. I've had enough tomatoes to make around eight quarts of my world famous Fire Roasted Tomato Salsa. (Well, it's famous in my world.)

Oh baby, this is my idea of heaven.

Quite frankly, chips are overrated. I cut out the middle man and just go to town with a spoon.

In case you're wondering, no, I have not eaten all eight quarts. I've worked on it, but even I have my limits. The rest is in there with a bunch of homemade marinara. (We lurrrrve the salsa and marinara during the long, cold months of winter.)

My Mr. Stripey tomato plant is going to town. I pulled this bad boy off the vine the other day. It makes a tomato momma proud.

My herbs are also thriving. I've been using them in fresh arrangements around the house. I think they look so pretty and they smell really nice!

Here's my favorite one: lavender and sage.

I'm now drying my lavender flowers. They smell so good in the window, and I'm dying to try out the Almond Lavender Pound Cake recipe I found in the most recent issue of Taste of Home. (I picture myself wearing a floral dress and kid gloves while I serve it.)

Cake of the Month - My Thought Process While Making Better Than ? Cake

It's my 8th anniversary. I love Lance. And lance loves cake. Therefore, I must make a cake.

Doh. I forgot to make a cake for July. Oops. But the world did not end, so no worries. This time...

Okay, let's go through the ol' Cake Mix Doctor. Let's see, what can I make...? Hmm... not that... gross... don't have the right ingredients for that one... or that one... or that one... Dang it!!! Why is my life so freakin' hard?!?

Wait - this sounds promising: Better Than ? Cake. Question mark? Question mark? Oh wait, I bet they mean... S-E-X. Hee-hee. Well, it is my anniversary. How appropriate. Plus, there's a lot of chocolate in it. Devils food cake mix, chocolate chips, chocolate pudding... sold.

It's go time.

*I make the cake. We won't go into the gory details.*

**Actually, it wasn't that bad. It was actually pretty easy.**

Hey! That cake was easy! Look - it even looks like a normal cake! I am the chaaampion, my frieeennddd... and I'llll keep on bakiiiinnnn' to the ennndddd....!


*I let the cake cool. I also save it from utter destruction when Josh climbs up to it on the counter and tries to grab it while shrieking "CAAAKKKKEEEE" like the wild banshee that he is. Pesky banshee.*

Okay, time for the frosting. Penuche... penuche? What the heck is a penuche? A cooked frosting? Oiiiii... okay, I can do this. A whole stick of butter?! Well, at least I know it'll taste good...

*I make the frosting.*

Okay, the recipe says to frost the cake right away and not to let the frosting cool. It's almost done mixing.

Let's do this thang.

Okay... this is a little weird. It's like flaking up right on the cake. Dang it - how can it be cooling already?! Dang it! Why won't it stay on the side of the cake?!? Why is life sooo hard?!? Auughhh!!! I hate cakes!!!!!


Oh well. At least it looks okay from the top.


Let's taste it. Mmmmm... that is better than... question mark.

Eight Years and Counting, Baby

Eight years ago today I was eating cold cereal with my little cousins at the breakfast counter in my Aunt Janee's and Uncle Bryce's house. I had spent the night in their unfinished basement. (Why there? It was just about the only place in all of Utah Valley that I could be by myself. Just what I needed for the night before my wedding.)

Eight years ago today I was getting dressed and primped in the bride's room at the Mt. Timpanogos Temple, practicing extreme patience with my mom, who insisted that every bow and such on my dress had to be perfect. (Because that's what moms do on wedding days. And that's okay.)

Eight years ago today I was sealed for time and all eternity (and not just until death do us part) to the ever hunky Lance, whose Grandpa Red was waiting out in the parking lot with the car running, just in case he had second thoughts and cold feet. (Ha ha, Grandpa Red.)

Eight years ago today I got sunburned while taking my wedding photos outside. But I didn't really care because I was soooo in luuuuvve. (Although I did care later when I realized I looked like a tomato in a wedding dress in my reception photos. Sigh.)

Eight years ago today I looked like I was barely 16. And Lance... perhaps 15? Who let such youngin's get married?!?


Eight years ago today I made the best decision of my life.

Happy Feet

Love 'em.

A Moment of Silence, Please

The Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince movie release date has been pushed back until next summer.

And just what am I supposed to do on November 21st now?!?!

Happy Birthday, Kevin!

Happy 24th birthday, Kevin!I hope your next year is chock full of:
perfect Rock Band performances
rockin' Republican Conventions
High LSAT Scores
Hot Babes
and most of all
Slurpees in all your favorite flavors!

Carnivores

Spencer has decided to become a dinner-time vegetarian. The rare sausage or bacon for breakfast? No problem. Ham and cheese for lunch? Yum. But ask him to eat three bites of chicken at dinner and it's as if I'm telling him to eat Josh. It goes a little something like this:

Me: Please eat your chicken, Spencer.

Spencer: Noooooo!!! I don't like it! Yuuuckky!

Me: Chicken is good. Just taste it.

Spencer: Eeeeewww!

Me: But you like chicken nuggets. This is the same thing.

Spencer: No. It's not.

Me: Yes it is. This is chicken. And chicken nuggets are chicken. Eat.

Spencer: No. I don't like meat. Ew.

Me: But you like ham. And hamburgers. And chicken nuggets. And hot dogs - you love hot dogs, and those are meat.

Spencer: No they're not. They're not meat.

Me: Yes they are. Hot dogs are meat.

Spencer: No.

Me: Yes.

Spencer: No. Hot dogs are not.

Me (sighing): Then just eat your veggies.

Spencer: Eeeewwww!!!

It's like arguing with an insane person. And just as productive.

On the other end of the spectrum, Josh is more than happy to eat any meat you put in front of him - just as long as you call it chicken. Call it anything else and it's:

Me: Joshie, please eat your steak.

Joshie: Ewwww! No! Chicken!

Me: Joshie, please eat your chicken.

Joshie: Otay.

See Food

Make an on-line slide show at www.OneTrueMedia.com

You can't make up stuff like that.


During dinner I also repeated a version of the nursery rhyme "The Little Girl with a Curl" because of Joshie's curl on his forehead.

There was a little boy
With a little curl
Right in the middle of his forehead
And when he was good
He was very very good
But when he was bad he was horrid

I repeated it a few times because I could tell Spencer was really paying attention and trying to learn it. (He likes nursery rhymes.) He asked more than once if it were a nursery rhyme.

While we were clearing the table Spencer said "Hey Mommy! Listen! I learned a Primary rhyme." I listened, expecting to hear something cute that he learned in Primary. Instead, it was some random group of sentences about the piece of bread he was eating.

Lance had to explain to me that it was a Primary rhyme because Spencer is in Primary, not Nursery like Josh.

My kids crack me up.