Learn How to be a Better Caker

Here is something fun and exciting.

I got adventurous and signed up for an online Cake Decorating Class through Craftsy called Clean and Simple Cake Designs by Jessica Harris. 

It is an awesome class!  I love Jessica Harris's design style, and she is a great instructor.  She gives great tips and information about how to make and work with marshmallow fondant, modeling chocolate, how to cover cakes with buttercream and fondant, and some fabulous techniques on how to easily decorate beautiful cakes.  No matter your skill level, if you are interested in cake decorating at all, it is an incredible resource.

Here is a link for 50% off the class.

It is ah-may-zing.  Here's to better and happier caking!

Make Me Laugh

I'm feeling a smidge bitter about all the snow and cold we have.  Three weeks in a row with piles of snow to shovel, and single digit weather has got me down.  So...

To brighten a ridiculously cold beginning of Spring, here are some funny things my kids say:

You thought this vehicle is called an Armored Car.

You are wrong.

According to Gunner, it is an "Armored Personality Truck."

It makes me laugh every time.  I have no idea where he got that idea.

Oh, Spiff just informed me that he got that name from an Armored Personnel Carrier.

That makes sense.

It's still funny.

Hobbes occasionally calls me "Momminee."

I think it's a great combination of Mommy and Mindy.

We were having a Star Wars day yesterday.  We marched to some Star Wars music, and Gunner narrated some detailed scenarios straight out of the movies.

Then out of the blue, he said, "Leia (he's talking to me!), I've got a baaad feeling about this."
I love my little Star Wars kid.

Hobbes is sweet and funny, and he has 1 million hard-to-understand words.

Here's a short list.  His sweet little words make me laugh:

Huh-vie: shovel
Hock: Sock

Hoot: Shoe

Ho-ha: Salsa

O-ha: Elsa

Bobbiya: Lollipop

Tal-kin (his name)

Dame (his brother)

Doctoh Dadjee (his father)

Cack-oo: pancake

Baybo: baseball

Wah-yoo: I love you

Wah, Yo, Ga-daaah! (3,2,1, blastoff)

Hubbie, Go!: Ready, Go. 

Tintin No-wee: Tintin's dog Snowie

Cud: Squeeze

Cackuko: a pair of pajamas with heavy machinery on them. 

That's about it for my kids today.  

For a few more laughs, Here's a funny and shocking soccer video.  

I wish more sports were like this.  

It seems like it might even the odds for terrible ball players like myself.

Some Stuff About Running

I haven't talked about running recently, not since the marathon, really.  I had a hard recovery from my injury.  I spent the Summer doing workout videos in my living room.  As I got feeling better, I spent the fall pushing the kids around town on stroller runs.  Then it got cold.  Cold enough and icy enough that no amount of weather shield, heated rice bags, coats, hats, boots and blankets was going to be good enough to take my kids out in the stroller, so I stopped running for a few months.

I worked out on Spiff's new rowing machine, which is a great workout.

But then I signed up for the Salt Lake City Half Marathon in April (Gah!!!  I'm so excited!), and it kept being cold and icy outside.  So we bought this:

I really don't think I could be more in love with a piece of indoor exercise equipment.  I LOVE this machine.  It is fabulous and oh, so convenient.  But I really love that I can run and train, whether or not Spiff is working or the kids are sleeping.

So, my hip is finally healed now (thank goodness!), and I'm in the middle of my Half training, and my first 10-miler rolled around a couple weeks ago.  It was cold and icy outside, so I chicken-out on the outdoor run, and I ran the whole thing on the treadmill.  It was long and hard, but fine.  I watched a movie while I ran.  I picked up the speed near the end because I was tired of being on the treadmill, but it was fine.

The strangest thing was knowing that I had run a long distance, but really hadn't gone anywhere.

So when the next long run came around (just a 6-miler this time), I was determined to get outside and run.  I did, despite the warnings from Gunner who told me it was too icy to run outside.  He was right.  It was too icy.  I slipped and slid all around the paths and sidewalks.  I thought I would break an ankle.  Oh, and it had been raining, and the snow was melting, and I had to trudge through 2-inch-deep icy puddles.  So, my feet were wet and cold, I was sloshing with every step, and I was sliding around, and miserable, and cursing the fact that I had felt adventurous and determined to get fresh air.  It really was so awful for two miles (think 2 miles in 25 minutes) until I decided to ditch the sidewalks and just run on the road.  I'm sure the drivers were cursing me, but I felt safer and happier, and faster (last 4 miles in 35 min.), even though my feet were still wet and sloshy.  Blech, those are my very least favorite running conditions.

So, anyway, we have had the same weather this week.  Piles of snow earlier this week, and by the weekend it is raining, and freezing rain in places.  I'm already trying to think of a good movie to keep me company during tomorrow's Treadmill 10-miler.

In other running news, though, is the fact that I found a new running partner!  A friend from my ward.  I ran with her for the first time the other night, and it was really fun.  We will probably run once a week together.  But it was so fun to run with someone again, and I was feeling so happy, and then got home and realized that this happened:

That is my 13-year-old orthotic, the ones I wear in my running shoes since having foot surgery when I was in college, cracked in two.  Total bummer!  I'm hoping to replace them with a running-specific shoe insert.  I'm hoping I really don't need them all that badly. 

Anyway, despite the issues, I'm happy to be back on my feet and back in training, working on a goal, and getting in better shape.  Running Rocks!

March in Minnesota

Someone warned me that March is Minnesota's snowiest month.  Good thing I had warning because we have had a whole lot of snow in the last two weeks.

 It's hard to believe that my sister, Mhana, is cutting flowers from her garden in Oregon while we are shoveling six inches of snow.  It's like we live in two different worlds.

Here's my driveway after the first time we shoveled snow this morning.  It was so wet and heavy.  I am grateful that Spiff got out first and did half of the driveway before leaving for work.  Then my next door neighbor (who is generally not so nice) surprised me by snowblowing out our sidewalk and the end of the driveway for me.  Maybe he's nicer than I thought.  But that all meant that it took me 45 minutes to shovel this morning, instead of two hours.  

Now I get to go out and shovel the latest two inches that fell since the morning.

I swear that our driveway gets bigger every time it snows.

Get a Little Food Inspired

A friend suggested that I post my favorite meal of the week occasionally.  Don't mind if I do, folks!  I have an intense food obsession these days.  I read food blogs in my free time like nobody's business.  I am constantly pouring over new and better dinner ideas and planning planning planning my menus.  It's a funny obsession, since I adore food, and my children would rather not eat any of it.  The mainstay of Hobbes's diet these days is trail mix and grapefruit.  Gunner would prefer crepes and quesadillas every day.  They both hate almost everything else.

So I try to make delicious food with the hopes that Spiff and I will enjoy it, that it will help us be healthy (most of the time), and it will save us money that we don't have to spend at a restaurant.  I believe that good food is one of the greatest gifts from God, and that it is meant to be enjoyed.  And while I don't always enjoy preparing and cleaning up every meal, I really do take pleasure out of creating delicious food.  I love eating well at home.

Soooo, on to the good stuff!  I don't have any pictures of my own, but here are a few of my favorite meals we have enjoyed in the last few weeks.  Make them and love them.  We sure did!

Chicken Noodles--My FAV!!!
I always double the chicken, marinade and sauce.  And I threw in some sugar snap peas with the veggies.  It's so good, I'm drooling just thinking about it.

Caribbean-Style Pork paired w/ Sweet and Savory Coconut Rice.
Top with green onions and chopped cashews/peanuts.  Such a fantastic combination!
(A note about the pork--It may need to be cooked with the green onions in the crock pot, but they got wilty and gross-looking, so I picked them out, and then served it with fresh cut green onions.  Problem solved.)

We tried going to Chipotle for lunch a couple weeks ago, but decided against it when we got there and discovered a line going out the door.  We settled on making our own burritos and burrito bowls at home with this Crock Pot Pork Carnitas, Cilantro Lime Rice, Black Beans and guacamole.  I loved the pork.  It packed some serious flavor. 

I hope you're even a little inspired now.  Just looking at the beautiful photos of the food from these blogs is enough to get me excited.

Now if you'll excuse me, I gotta go make something delicious.

Unpleasant Realities

I recently took both of my kids in for well-child check-ups.  They are both the greatest examples of health, a fact that I am extremely grateful for.  I wrote about Hobbes's check-up, if you remember. (Can you forget?)  It was long and logistically unpleasant, but apparently it made a large impact on Gunner's little mind.  Hobbes got so much attention during that appointment!  And shots!  Those were exciting!  So, when I told him we were going in for his appointment, he was thrilled.  We had an afternoon appointment, and he could hardly stand to wait all day.  He was especially excited about the prospect of getting shots of his own.  I made sure to remind him of when he got shots as a baby, and he was so brave that he didn't even cry.

He was an angel at his appointment.  He was excited to sit on the exam table.  He happily cooperated with the nurses and doctors, and he eagerly answered all of their questions.  When it came time for his shots, he did just what the nurse suggested.  She instructed me to hold his arms firmly.  He told her that he didn't need me to because he is so brave.  Of course, I did anyway.

And when she put the first (of five) needles in his leg, he said, "OW!!!"

Completely betrayed.

"Ow ow ow ow ow!!!"

He cried so hard that he burst blood vessels in his face.

But he didn't struggle.  He still cooperated.  I am so proud of him.

We had a long talk on the way home about why he had to have shots, what vaccinations are, and why they are so important.  It is a hard concept for a 4-year-old that one small shot is way better than getting very sick.  And it is hard on me as a mom to remember that it is so important when my child is feeling so sore and betrayed, and surprisingly harder for me as Gunner has gotten older and understands what's happening to him.

But it is.  And I am grateful for vaccines.

I think the funniest part of the experience was when we got home.  Gunner was a wreck.  "Mom, my legs hurt.  I need you to carry me into the house."  "Mom, I need you to carry me down the stairs."  "Mom, when I lift my leg like this, it hurts."  "Mom, I need you to carry me into my bed because my legs hurt and I can't walk."  "Mom, when it hurts when I touch my leg right here."

And the pièce de la résistance:
"Mom, I thought the shots would be fun.  But they were Not!"

Poor guy.  Good thing he heals quickly.  And he was completely fine the next day.

Super Powers

Gunner likes to read a few books in his bed sometimes after we put him to bed, to help him settle down. Tonight, he decided to read every book in his bookcase, for an hour. He was obviously not ready to go to bed earlier. Anyway, he finally told me he was ready for me to turn his light off. I had to clear a mountain of books off his bed to make room for him to lie down. While I did this, he found an unread book. Then we had this conversation:

G: I'm just going to read this one last book.
Me: I am going to turn the light off soon, so you should probably read that tomorrow.
G: It's okay, I can read in it in the dark.
Me: Hmmm, I'm not sure about that.
G: Yes, I can. I have x-ray vision.

Boop Bap

So, I decided today that I am not a stay-at-home-mom.  I am, in fact, running a circus.  I'll explain.

The boys and I have not had the best of weeks.  There has been a whole lot of naughty from the boys, and whole lot of grumpy from me.  We took a "home day" on Monday where we stayed in our jammies all day and attempted to clean the house.  Very little of the house got clean between all of the fighting, crying and whining that happened all day.  The reason for all of this nonsense, I think, is that it is the end of February.  It's cold outside (it was 5 degrees yesterday), so no one wants to be outside.  The snow is old, and no one wants to play in it.  We have cabin fever, and so we are naughty and grumpy...and miserable.

Examples of naughtiness/general reasons for mom to be grumpy:
1.  My visiting teachers came for a visit, and Gunner went wild with excitement!  Wild!  I tried to get him to calm down, and he repeated refused to obey for a full hour and fifteen minutes.  He caused quite the scene, and he is now grounded from all beloved things (Ipad time, movies, dessert/candy/gum) for a week.

2.  Hobbes has become very opinionated about his clothing.  He changed his clothes at least five times a day.  His preferred clothing is pajamas, specifically a pair of green Summer jammies (short sleeve, short pants) with a Monkey rowing a boat that is shaped like a banana.  When he finds these pajamas (in his drawer, in my bedroom, in the dryer, anywhere at all), he insists on putting them on.  He refuses to wear a coat or long pants if he is wearing these jams and we are going outside (see comment about it being 5 degrees).  He refuses to wear socks unless he chooses them.  We have had hour long fights trying to get this kid dressed.  In fact, we fight about it almost every time we get him dressed these days, and extra awesome when he hides in a corner afterwards and takes everything off again.  It's exhausting.

So, after our miserable home day on Monday, I had a full day out of the house planned for Tuesday.  We got ourselves dressed for the day (this included four changes of clothing for Hobbes.  Four!!!  By 9:30 a.m.), and got out to the van, only to discover that the kids' car seats were in Spiff's car.  Spiff would be at work until 7 p.m.  Our day, and our hopes for fun and general happiness, were shot.  I felt so defeated as I realized that I would be alone with the kids again, all day. 

That's when the messages went out to my friend.  We're stuck at home.  Please come over!  Thankfully they did.

And then there was today.  It started off with a fight to get Hobbes to wear clothes.  He compromised by carrying his pajamas around like a blankie to cuddle in the car on the way to the doctor for a well-child check for Hobbsie.  It is the first time we have been to this doctor's office, so it took a long time.  Like two hours.  Ugh.  Papers to fill out, questions to answer, kids to entertain, more papers to fill out, more questions to re-answer, hand-outs to juggle, bored kids to calm down.  Two hours!  It's way worse than making it through sacrament meeting.

And then there was Hobbes who was instructed to be in just a diaper for his exam.  This kid who is so particular about his clothing is supposed to be naked for two hours.  I juggled all of the above while he tried every sneaky tactic to put his clothes back on.  But then by the time it was actually time to get his clothes on before the shots, he was too tired and hungry to cooperate, so we got to have another little fight.  Awesome.  Then the shots are always a joy.  Poor little guy.

When we were finally done at the doctor's office, I rewarded the kids for their patience with a trip to the library.  While we were there, Hobbes messed his diaper.  Upon changing it, I discovered a massive blowout.  Sigh.  Anyone who has changed a 2-year-old blowout on a public bathroom changing table can sympathize with me about the horrors of juggling flailing hands, kicking legs, travel wipes, and messy clothing.  Oh, so hard.  Oh, and then it is 8 degrees outside, so we're all wearing coats and boots.  But it's not cold inside, and it gets especially warm while I'm wrestling my kid while wearing my coat.  So hot!  So hot and so so so hard!

And here is little Hobbes, who hates getting dressed on a good day, being forced out of his clothes for the third time of the day, and wondering what has happened to his pants!  The best I could do was put his pooped-on onesie and pants in a plastic bag, put his shirt and coat on him, and get us on our way.

So there we are, making our little way out of the library, by way of the book check-out (imagine me juggling the boys who are wandering every direction while I desperately try to check out books with super-speed), with my little son in nothing but a coat, diaper, bare legs and boots.  Oh, the looks we got!

Good thing I had Hobbsie there to clarify things for people.  He explained to every passer-by why he didn't have any pants.  "Boop, Bap!" (I pooped in my pants!)

And that, my friends, is why I have decided to open a circus.  I'll call it Spiff & Minty's Circus Extravaganza!  It's happening anyway.  We're putting on an amazing show for people.  I may as well charge admission.  I'll make a fortune.  If you come, you can be Wowed by my juggling skillz.

Thirty-Something

It's a woman's prerogative never to be satisfied with her age.

Here's a post about aging.  I just turned 33, and I'm finding it to be emotionally harder on me than 30 was.  Turning 30 was no big deal for me.  I felt ready for it, even a bit excited to be joining my siblings in their fabulous thirties.  The strangest thing for me was to admit that I didn't know all the things I expected my 30-year-old self to know.  I was still calling my mom to ask her how to cook a turkey and how to make gravy.  A 30-year-old should know that stuff, I thought.  But beyond that, I liked it.  I felt confident, settled and happy with my life choices.  I had a baby, then trained for a marathon and was in the best shape of my life, much more than any training I had ever done as a teenager or in my 20s.  The 30s were way better than 20s, in my book.

Then I started hearing things from my sister.  She's just three years older than me, and she started saying things like, "I'm not getting any younger." Or, "I'm not as young as I used to be." Or, "This old body is not going to hold up...nutrition...health...blah blah blah."

I thought she was being ridiculous.  We're in our all-powerful 30's!  We're invincible!

Well then I had a conversation with some other mommies the other day.  We were chatting about our educational histories, where we went to college, what we studied, etc., and some numbers came out.  When they asked when we graduated college, I discovered that I am 4-6 years older than they are.  When I said out loud that I graduated college one year before they graduated high school, I felt old.

When they had shocked looks on their faces, I felt old.

When I realized that they are all still enjoying having babies in their mid-20s, I felt old. 

When I realized that I had an entire extra chapter in my life than they do, I felt old.

I think that it's the Chapters that make me feel my age.  I know I'm not old.  Not anywhere close.  I'm young, healthy, and have a full life ahead of me.  But let's throw some numbers out here:
I graduated high school in 1998.  15 years ago.
I graduated college in 2002.  11 years ago.
I met and married Spiff in 2004.  9 years ago.
I graduated from graduate school in 2005.  8 years ago.

My most impressionable, footloose, and liberated chapters in my life are over.  I loved those chapters, and they still feel so close to my heart that they don't feel so far away.  But when someone new asks me what I do (for a living), I have to admit that I don't do much other than take care of my kids.  And then I think back on those chapters when I was learning and doing wonderful things, meeting fabulous and talented friends, and going on adventures, I start feeling sentimental, and I miss it.  Putting numbers to it and realizing that it has been eight years since I really played the piano makes me wonder what I have been doing with all of that time, since there was a time that Piano was all I was doing.

Wow, I'm really waxing nostalgic here.  Also, I have some great stories from those chapters to share, so stay tuned.

But anyway, my transition to my mid-thirties is a little rough.  I'm not taking it nearly so gracefully as I would like.  I don't really like being older than my other mommy friends.  I don't really like thinking of my childhood as a quarter of a century ago.  Ah, well.

All of this reminds me of a conversation I had with Spiff's Grammy one time.  She was an avid scrap-booker.  One time, she was telling me about some of her pictures when she said, "Oh, that was when we went to (someplace).  It was just a few years ago.  Wait, was that 1987?  That was twenty years ago?!  How has it been twenty years?"

The Humdrum

I feel productive this week.  I always feel like I have won a gold medal when I feel this way.  I sat down on Sunday evening and planned out my meals and to-do lists for the week.  On Monday, I cleaned my bathrooms, did my laundry (washed, folded and put away all five loads), vacuumed my floors, sent emails for my calling, went to Costco and the grocery store AND gave Spiff a hair cut.  Yesterday, took the kids to a playgroup, hosted a lunch, babysat some kids and rehearsed an upcoming musical number.  I have also managed to get the kids to help me clean up their toys for three days in a row.  I'm impressive, I know.  You should be amazed at me, especially since we all know that this kind of order and productivity doesn't usually happen in these parts.

Besides all that awesomeness, my favorite moment of the week was when I showed up at Costco and couldn't find my grocery list in my bag.  I knew I had put it in my bag when I left the house.  Where could it be?!  Then I remembered that I had made a quick stop at our neighborhood mailbox...and I realized that I dropped my grocery list in the little mail slot along with some letters.  Happy Valentines Week, Lucky Postman!  Now you will know what is on our menu for the week!  I felt so silly as I marched around the store desperately trying to remember all of the things I had carefully written on my mile-long list.

And also, I have an awesome postman.  I found my grocery list sitting in my mailbox today with my bills.  Good thing, too, because then I remembered that I needed to buy yogurt for dinner tonight.

This post is sounding like it could be an entry in my personal journal.  My life of taking care of my kids is so commonplace; these are the kinds of things I get excited about.

Because you need more proof...

That I live with a Human Tornado...

During my birthday party the other night, Hobbes sneaked into the office and did this:

 

Wowzah!  How are we going to survive this kid?!

Happy Birthday to Me!

I had a great birthday this year.  I was very spoiled by family and friends.  Lots of love given from people far and wide.  I do feel so very loved.  Thank you to one and all.

Here are the flower cupcakes I made.  I wanted something girlie. :)

I was especially aware of the little gifts given to me by my boys that day:
I received a Happy Birthday wish whispered into my ear first thing in the morning by Gunner, who also told me that he hoped I would have a lovely day.

Hobbes slept in so that I could take a shower in peace.

With a smile from ear to ear, Gunner handed the Ipad to me like a platter, playing the John McCutcheon Happy Birthday song.

My boys played happily with friends so that I could have a pleasant morning with a friend.

Hobbes was so very excited for present-opening time.  He was beyond tired by the time we did present time at the end of the day, and he just couldn't handle standing by and watching mommy open presents (which he inexplicably calls "boing boings").  So he helped me.  He made sure that each present was opened vigorously.  With love.

Gunner decorated the cupcakes in the front of this picture.  He cut out hearts from Fondant (pronounced Fahn-Dahnt, the way Cake Boss would say it).  He chose hearts "for love" because he loves me that much.  

 

I am blessed.

I am loved.

I am so very grateful.

The Windows

 We seem to have bad luck with windows in the apartments and houses we rent.  

Remember these?

There was enough air blowing through the windows to bow the protective plastic out like a balloon.

 Here's what happens to our windows when it's really cold outside here.

The frost creeps out onto the crank, like it's coming to get us.

I'm almost certain that it will.

I especially like this one.  The frost is made of large, fuzzy crystals,

and the curtain is actually frozen to the end of the crank.

This is what our last week has looked like.  It has been oh, so cold.
I'm cold.  The kind of cold where I cannot warm up, no matter what I do.
I'm dreaming of warm days playing in the park.

But for now, Brrrrrrrr! I need to go make some more hot chocolate.

Blog Makeover, Stage 1: Renaming

New blog focus=new name. Here's your chance to get in on the naming action. What should I rename this blog?  I want to hear your most creative ideas. 

Ready?  Go!

Mischief Managed

I think I have mentioned before that Hobbes is quietly mischievous.  He can get into trouble better than any other kid.  I'll put money on it.  He wanders away and silently goes about doing whatever he puts his mind to.  He helps himself to items in my bag.  He helps himself to food in the kitchen.  He wonders what those buttons will do, and figures it out for himself.  Here are some examples:

A while ago, I moved my gum stash to my bedroom because Hobbes had gotten into it.  (It was in one of the upper kitchen cabinets.)  The new hiding place, the top shelf of our closet shelving, hasn't deterred him.  See this picture?  I took it from the edge of the dining room.  If you look closely, you can see my open bedroom door, and beyond that, my open closet door.  He pushed that bar stool all they down the hall, into my bedroom, and then turned into my closet to try to get some gum.  I'm certain that he had to open both doors.  That's a long way for a small guy.  He sure is determined.  What a kid won't do for some gum!

I also think that was the night he turned off the heat.  (In the picture above, I positioned the stool right under the thermostat.  This would have been easy for him, since it's right on the way to the bedroom/gum.)  We had one night this week when it was something like -27 degrees F. outside.  Spiff and I woke up in the middle of the night and discovered that our house was freezing!  We keep our thermostat at a low temperature, but this seemed extreme.  After some investigation, Spiff realized that Hobbes had pushed some buttons and reset the thermostat from "heat" to "cool".  It was currently 50 degrees in our house!  And colder in the basement.  Spiff promptly turned the furnace back on (it ran constantly for 8 hours or so), and we went back to sleep grateful that we didn't have frozen pipes.

I had a rehearsal at my house yesterday.  The boys did a great job, but it was long, and Hobbes got bored.  He wandered away, and I while I rehearsed, I wondered what he was up to, knowing that I couldn't do anything about it right at that minute.  When the song was over, I excused myself and went in search of the small mischief maker.  I found him in Daddy's office doing this:

Pencil can up-ended.

Containers of pencil led dumped out...all. over. the. desk.  And the floor.

Later, I told Spiff about it, and he said, "He did it again?!"

I haven't cleaned this up yet.

Lately, I have found him standing on our washing machine.  I have found him sitting at Spiff's desk playing on the computer, which was closed and put away.  He started our dishwasher the other day after pushing some buttons.  His absolute favorite thing to do is to lean over the kitchen counter so that his body weight is supported, and then push his chair out from under him so that he is literally hanging from the countertop.  He then calls for help.  I usually don't hurry to his aid because I know he can hoist himself up onto the counter if he needs to.  I also know that he'll just push the chair away again as soon as I rescue him.  What a weird game.

I bet he's got a Marauder's Map hidden under his mattress.  I also bet that he is quietly and steadily crossing off items from his giant bucket list of Trouble to Get Into.

Don't Cry Over Spilled Milk

Another point from our fabulous RS meeting the other night:  When the milk has already been spilled, there's no reason to get mad.  This was related to the subject I already talked about in the previous post, when the decision has already been made, the milk has been spilled.  No reason to get mad.  Etc.

This made me think of my grandmother who had eleven children.  Eleven!  Can you even imagine?  The thought of feeding eleven children breakfast, lunch and dinner is enough to make me dizzy.  It is incredibly difficult for me to get my two children to sit down and concentrate long enough to eat something, much less accept the food that I give them.  There is always food/liquid spilled on the table and floor.  I can't imagine what it would be like with eleven children eating and spilling food on a daily basis.  I bet she was constantly cleaning up spills.  What a saint.

Anywho, there is a famous story in my family about the time when my dad's family sat down to eat dinner.  They said the prayer, and then the shocked family watched as Grandma reached out and knocked over her glass of milk!  As they stared, she replied, "Now that we have gotten that over with, let's eat."

Wasn't she awesome?!

I think of that story every time my kids spill their cups.  It is frustrating at times, but I remember the lesson my Grandma taught that spilled milk isn't something worth getting mad about.  It's another good lesson to look for all of the other little things that happen every day that are "spilled milk" issues, within all of my relationships.  One more step towards being an accepting and approving person.

Acceptance and Approval

Our mid-week relief society meeting this week was so so so good.  They invited the bishop of another ward in our stake to speak to us about relationships (any type of relationship, couples, friends, family, children, etc.).  I can't remember his credentials, but he works as a therapist, doing mostly couples therapy.  He was such an interesting and dynamic speaker, I could have listened to him for hours!  It's not often that I find any soft of meeting that I don't want ever to end.

A few of the things he focused on were the skills or attributes we can have/gain that will help our relationships be successful.  He asked for our input: What is the one thing you can do to be successful in your relationships?  People suggested being honest, focusing on making someone happy, serving, etc.  But the things he said will always work are "Acceptance and Approval" because those are the things that people need and want.  We want to be accepted for who we are, for the decisions we make, for the things we say and do, for the way we look.  And we want to be approved of, especially by the people who love us.

The example he gave is of a time when his wife took their son to college in another state, and they had decided to furnish his new apartment with used furniture.  While his wife was out of town, she called and told him how happy she was that they had purchased all the furniture, and that it would be delivered within the hour, and what a blessing it was that they wouldn't have to carry anything up three flights of stairs.  He was shocked and was furious as it dawned on him that only new furniture could be delivered, and he had just bought his son an apartment full of brand new furniture.

However, he responded in a unique way.  He realized that the decision had already been made.  He told his wife that he was happy for her.  Then he signed off and moved on.

He approached the subject with her a week later, after having time to realize that the reason he was upset wasn't that she had purchased new furniture.  He was actually happy that she and their son hadn't had to carry heavy furniture up three flights of stairs.  What upset him was that he felt that he hadn't been listened to.  But by waiting a week to discuss it, he had had time to focus on the real reason he felt angry, they were able to have a rational and easy conversation about it, and they were able to skip a potential problem.

The moral here is that we should never get mad at people.  If the decision has been made, there's nothing for it but to accept, approve, and move on.  

What a great idea!

It's much harder in practice, and I'm not sure how to do this without feeling like a doormat when decisions are made that I don't agree with.  But I see his point of view about accepting and approving, especially as I realize that I crave this myself.  I can see how helpful this approach would be if I am focusing on trying to be a peacemaker in my home.  I can see how important it is to accept and approve of my husband, and how I hope he can do the same for me.  I can see how it would be helpful with my children as I learn who they are, and I absolutely must accept them for who they are. 

I don't believe that everyone always needs to agree on everything.  There is no way that could ever happen.  But I think that it is better to avoid contention within our relationships if we can, and to focus on living in a peaceful environment where the Spirit can dwell with us.  

And that, my friends, is your inspirationally-focused thought for the day.  Comments?

A Fabulastic Playmobil 2nd Birthday!

Thank you, friends, for your input.  It's nice to know that you're out there, and that I'm wanted.  I shall continue blogging with renewed energy and inspiration!  I'll try to be more consistent, too.  I have some good stories cooking up in my little brain.  Stay tuned for blogging greatness.

But today, I'm doing the obligatory cake post.  I realize that the only person requiring this is me.  Not a one of you requested more cake posts.  I'm mildly sorry to throw all of your requests to the wind. However, it was Hobbes's birthday this week, and I made a cake, so now I'm telling you about it.  And it's my very own blog now (thanks, Spiff), so I'll do what I want!  Ha ha!

Spiff requested a Playmobil cake because Hobbesie does love his little "guys".  I think it turned out great, and definitely better than expected.  And it was actually fun, so I'm calling it a definite win.

Here's the finished product.  I'm sure you already saw it on FB.

I always always Always have hiccups when making cakes.  The first one was a problem with the ganache I used to frost the cake.  I used the upside-down frosting technique, which worked perfectly until I peeled the parchment paper off the top in the morning.  The ganache didn't harden like it should have, and the whole top layer of ganache peeled right off the cake with the parchment paper.  Bummer.  I had to redo the top.

Hiccup #2 was awesome.  I got Hobbes up from his nap, went to the kitchen where I had been working on the cake, and turned my back on him for 2 seconds.  

That, folks, is all it takes for a 2-year-old to do this:

That is a tiny handprint, where he grabbed and smashed his cake!

And that's when I might have cried a little, and felt ridiculous while I begged him to "Please, please please, don't touch your own birthday cake, Honey!"

Good thing the top wasn't perfect anyway because of the whole parchment paper/ganache thing.

And good thing that I can just cover all of that up with some decorations.

The third one involved circle cutters I ordered online that took a week too long to get shipped to my house.  They arrived in the mail at the nick of time so that I could create this.

Once again, the Wax Paper Transfer Technique worked like a dream.

I just love my little Hobbes.  I can't believe that he is two!  It's hard to believe that it was two years ago that he was a tiny baby, and Spiff was a 4th-year med student, and we still lived in St. Louis with our good friends there.  And now he has lived in his third house in his third city.  Time flies.  He is such a sweet, energetic little guy.  He is a momma's boy.  He is a skipper and a tromper.  He loves being outside more than anything else in the world.  He is a lefty.  He loves whatever his brother loves.  He is a free spirit; we have to approach interactions with him in a completely different way than with Gunner.  He is a master of being quietly curious and getting into trouble.  I have to watch him (or at least know where he is) at. all. times.  He is learning new words every day, and I love his little gibberish speech.  My friend said that he sounds like these guys from Despicable Me.  He totally does.  They are almost real words, and we can almost understand him.  But not quite.  :)  

And it's a good thing that we don't really post pictures of our kids on our blog because I couldn't get a good picture of him if I tried.

See?!

So, Happy Birthday, Hobbes!  We love you and look forward to another great year!

Request for Opinions

I'm a slacker blogger.  Spiff stopped writing on the blog over a year ago, and I have struggled with blogging motivation ever since, especially since the blog was his idea in the first place.  I liked it when it was our joint effort.  It like a nice little insight into our lives instead of the mommy blog it tends to be these days.  Now that it's my sole effort, I feel like I have already said what I have to say about my life, and I'm really struggling to find interesting topics.  It lacks direction.

So, my question to my dear (and faithful-through-all-of-this) readers is...What do you want to hear about from our corner of the world?  If I can share something from our lives, what do you want it to be?  Stories about my kids?  Updates on the non-kid-related things I do to keep myself busy (reading, running, cleaning, caking, church calling, etc.)?  A detailed discussion on what we eat and how I picked it?  My opinion on how to save the world?

Would you rather I pack it in and "just stop talking already?!" 

Please share. You can be honest.  Don't worry, I can take it.

A Post-Christmas Sigh of Relief

I love Christmas, and I loved it this year.  We had a great time.  What a magical time of year, especially with my children. 

But seriously, what a stressful season this has been for me!  I can't even put my finger on why, other than it was just full full full of projects.  I feel like I have been going nonstop since before Thanksgiving, just trying to put Christmas together for my little family.  The crazy thing is that I felt so on the ball this year.  I had a plan, and I thought I was almost done with Christmas shopping by Black Friday.  All I had left to do was wrap things up and ship them off. 

Wow, I was so far off.  I guess I was done planning things by Black Friday, but not actually done with anything at all until a week before Christmas.  I worked on projects while my kids were sleeping all month long.  I shopped, wrapped, packed, planned, ran errands, cleaned, cooked, then did it all some more.  I reorganized my recipe collection as part of a gift for my sister, which was an awesome project, just lots of work.

I had issues with shipping, as always.  The first one was that I ordered Christmas cards from Costco.  It took them a week to arrive, and when I went to pick them up, I found out that they had been shipped to the wrong location.  So I waited another week for correct delivery, only to find out that the picture I used on the card was so bad that I couldn't send them out!  I had taken a quick picture of my boys in front of my house, and their faces were super red, Hobbes was out of focus, and it was just all around bad.  I had good intentions, but sorry to those who would have received a card from us.  I'll plan it for next year.

One package was accidentally shipped to our former house in St. Louis, and then the people who lived there carried it around in their car for a week and half before finally sending it to me!  Gah!  I was so mad!  But alas, all was well in the end.  All packages got to their people on time.

I hosted a book club and decided to make a cake for it.  No pictures of that one because it was disaster from beginning to end.  Lots more stress than it should have been.  Next time I will make cookies.

I am the ward music director, and I was in charge of the Sacrament meeting Christmas program.  It seemed simple, and in the end it was a very nice program, but it was a lot of work for me, organizing and attending rehearsals all month

And after all of that was done, I hosted two Christmas parties at my house, one on Christmas Eve, and another on Christmas Day.  Both were lovely, but it's always a stress to get my house ship-shape for a get-together with four agents of Chaos living under this roof. 

So, anyway, I'm grateful that it was all lovely, but I'm grateful that it's over for this year.  It feels awesome to get back to normal.  Normal chaos is good.