Three Little Men & Me

A(nother) Public Service Announcement

2010-11-08T06:42:00.000-08:00

I've heard it more times than I can count in the past two months..."Why aren't you blogging anymore?" I've felt guilty about it more times than I can count, too, which is kind of lame. For crying out loud...I often shower just to change into a clean pair of jammies, I'm single-handedly ruining all three of my kids and I eat way too many Pretzel M&Ms...I have plenty to feel guilty about without adding blog neglect. (Sidebar: I'm in p90x rehab for the M&M issue. I've had the same bag of Pretzel M&Ms in my pantry for 3 1/2 weeks now. That's a personal best.)

Anyway...I read something online and it's irritating me into blogging submission. Some of you couldn't care less, and that's okay too, but I'm feeling the need to share.

Did you catch that? Couldn't care less. This morning I was reading an article on my AOL homepage. (I'm really more of an MSN girl, but I'm also borderline computer illiterate and haven't investigated how to change it. Another day maybe.) The author made the comment that she "could care less" about a situation in her life. Inside I screamed. I know there are SO many more important issues in the world, but come on. It's bad enough when the general public misuses the phrase. When a "writer" does it, I have to say something.

The actual phrase is couldn't care less. If you incorrectly say "could care less" you're negating the whole premise of your comment. Let me explain:

If I say that I couldn't care less that Jane's boyfriend is cuter than mine--hypothetically speaking, that is not an announcement--I am saying that it is absolutely impossible for me to care any less than I do that my boyfriend isn't as cute as Jane's. That is rock bottom on the care meter, and it is the message that the phrase is supposed to convey: that I absolutely DO NOT CARE. If I say "I could care less", I am expressing that there is room in the universe for me to care less than I do, therefore I CARE at least a tiny bit, which is not what the phrase means at all. If you're ever unsure, think about it like this: I care a tiny bit (could care less) that Jane's boyfriend is cuter than mine OR I don't care at all (couldn't care less) that Jane's boyfriend is cuter than mine because my boyfriend is still cute and he's also a Nobel Prize winner working on a cure for cancer. (Still with the hypothetical.) Couldn't care less.

So you came to my blog because I finally updated it after two months of silence and I ruined your day with my grumpy tirade...and I couldn't care less. Haha I'm joking!!! I could totally care less... ;)

On a Lighter Note...

2010-09-09T08:56:00.000-07:00

...after months of deliberation and weeks of serious concern that I wouldn't be able to come up with anything on the scale of last year's costume, I have finally determined what to dress Seth as for Halloween this year.

Imagine this:

As this:

Funny, right? As Brig likes to point out, this is why I have kids.

ps I'm getting feedback that since the blog redesign, some people are unable to post comments. I don't know how to fix it! Sorry :(

The Little Things

2010-09-06T22:18:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago a woman at church asked me if Seth is close to 2 yet. When I said he'll be 2-years-old next month, she said almost under her breath, "Wow, that went by fast." I knew she wasn't really talking about Seth, it was more of a sudden awareness that it's already been two years since Matt died. We mark that passage of time by subtracting one month from Seth's age. It's been two years tomorrow.
*
I was going through some pictures last night, looking for one for another post, and stumbled upon this:

It's a message Brigham wrote on the cover for Matt's casket. It tears my heart out. Sometimes I wish my boys' father was a jerk so they'd actually be better off without him, but he wasn't and they absolutely adored him. He would walk in the door after a full day at work and Brigham and Hunter would run toward his open arms at full speed, often knocking him flat on his butt. Sometimes I was jealous that they got the first home-from-work hug, but after a conversation with Hunter tonight I'm glad.

We went to the cemetery this evening. Usually the boys don't like to get out of the car, and I don't feel like I should push them, but tonight Hunter sweetly offered to go with me to "our" grave. As we stood together looking at Matt's headstone, Hunter told me he was thinking about Dad at our old house. "What part?" I asked. "About how he used to walk in the door," he answered.

On the way home I thought about that phrase..."It's the little things that matter most"...and I thought about how quickly the little things can become enormous things. Little things like walking in the door.

An Equal Opportunity Quilt Post

2010-09-02T09:59:00.001-07:00

Right now I am working on what is shaping up to be my all-time favorite quilt. I went to bed last night with all twelve squares pinned together and laid out on my kitchen island. When I woke up this morning and came down stairs, my first thought was "oh...it's even cuter than I remember it being!" From the fabrics to the color scheme to the whole overall piece, it's pretty near perfect. It makes me kiss my fingertips and do that little Italian hand gesture in the air. And it's not even edible! But it's a surprise...so I can't post pictures until I mail it off next week. Sorry.

But I can post a picture of the quilt I finished and delivered last week. It's the big sister quilt to the one I did for Alexa a few months ago:

All this quilt talk is making me concerned that I'm neglecting my male readers, so for the sake of balance I was thinking I'd post a picture of an awesome Smith & Wesson revolver I've been eyeing:

But somehow I don't really think that helped...sorry fellas.

Blackberry Cream Cheese Pie

2010-08-14T18:17:00.001-07:00

I had this friend in college. Her name was Vella and she made cheesecake. Not Jello-brand-from-a-powder-and-milk cheesecake, but real baked-in-the-oven-in-a-springform-pan cheesecake. Until this point in my life I had only known the former and actually had no idea that real people could even make the latter...So sheltered... Anyway, Vella's ability to make flavor after flavor of real, legitimate cheesecake fascinated me. I've thought about it just often enough over the years to buy a springform pan, but not often enough to take it out of the box.

It's really a matter of patience and commitment. I lack both. If I could just dumb it down and shorten the process, I'd be all over it.

On that note, I give you Cream Cheese Pie (courtesy of my friend Krista who I did not bother to ask about posting this recipe). It's not even close to Vella cheesecake, but light years above the Jello stuff in the box-- and it's so easy! First I'll tell you how Krista makes it, then I'll tell you how I make it. hahahaha

1/2 pint heavy whipping cream whipped on highish until foamy, add 3 oz. of softened cream cheese and mix well, but not too much. Add 1/2 cup of sugar and 1 tsp. of vanilla. Whip until fluffy and pour into a graham cracker crust.

My interpretation was pretty much the same except I wanted it to fill up the crust a little more. So I used 1/2 pint of whipping cream plus about 1/3 cup, the whole 8 oz block of cream cheese (if you use the kind with 1/3 less fat, it's already soft and you don't have to soften it more) and about 3/4 c. of sugar with 1 cap full of vanilla. But then I didn't actually measure any of my extras...

I've never claimed to be a photographer, but I also never make anything if I don't first know what it's supposed to look like, so here ya go:

And just as an added bonus, I had to document something that Seth likes that doesn't provoke itching, vomiting and puffiness. Yay pie filling.

The Big Unveil

2010-08-04T11:05:00.000-07:00

I love a good remodel. I'm pretty open about that. But as I've checked house projects off the list, I've started to get bored and restless again. And me bored and restless is an ugly thing. So I started to wonder what else I could possibly remodel...

I met with a plastic surgeon.

Hahaha! Because if you can't remodel your house, why not remodel yourself?! For reasons I won't even go into, that didn't go anywhere. (Sidebar: no one should use the world "flanks" to describe the female human body. Really. Who can feel feminine with flanks?) While you have to admit it's kind of funny, funny doesn't do much to cure boredom and restlessness. If you get your kicks from remodeling, truthfully, nothing else is going to do.

My blog-guru sister came to the rescue. I think my mom might have put her up to it with the hopes that I'd start blogging again, but here it is: the blog remodel! My friend Cami took some pictures, I made a few sketches & pulled some ink pads to create the color palette, Ami worked her magic and waa-waa! (That's voila when you're a kindergartner.) Go ahead and tell us how cute it is. We're all ears.

So now that the blog has been remodeled...?

If Your Friends Jumped Off a Bridge

2010-06-15T22:07:00.000-07:00

Even though I rarely get around to blogging any more, I still see life from a blogger's perspective. Stuff happens and I think--Oh I should blog that! Today I got all excited about something...like the kind of excited where you have a secret and can't wait to tell someone...like I had made a discovery that, when shared, had the power to change lives...not like a cure for cancer kind of thing, but close. Another purpose for over-ripe bananas kind of thing. I know, HUGE.

After an arduous day in the pool with the little men, this afternoon was feeling kind of like a gooey warm brownie afternoon. But I was out of eggs. I figured there had to be an easy alternative so I googled it. (Sidebar: Do you even remember the days before "google" was a verb?) Anyway, imagine my ridiculous excitement upon learning that half of a banana mashed up works as a substitute for an egg in things like cakes and brownies!! Yeah, HUGE!! Who doesn't need a use for dying bananas besides banana bread?! I'm trying to convey here how excited I really was about this, but I don't know that I'm getting the point across. Remember that one time I tried pretzel M&M's for the first time? The time I bought myself that fabulous flowered ring for Christmas? The time I had a mid-life crisis and went to Montana to be a cowgirl yogini? Wait. That's next week. The time I designed the most fabulous fireplace ever? Okay, that's how excited I was about this banana-instead-of-a-couple-eggs thing.

My excitement was SOOO misplaced. Long story short...if all your friends decide to jump off a bridge you probably shouldn't try that either.

A Sign

2010-05-29T20:20:00.000-07:00

Despite your comments, Facebook messages, texts, phone calls and doorstep pleadings, when I made my last post I had every intention of it actually being my last post. Some of you didn't take me seriously anyway, so I guess it'll come as no surprise that here I am posting. But I had to...I saw a sign...like an-image-of-Virgin-Mary-on-my-grilled-cheese-sandwich kind of sign...

Look what I found when I went to clean the glass on my back door:

I have no idea who it is, but I think it's a sign that I'm supposed to keep blogging. Too bad I cleaned it off. If I left it until after I posted, there coulda been a shrine with people holding candles in my back yard right now. ;)

Announcing...

2010-05-20T19:52:00.001-07:00

...my retirement from the blogging world. I'm so serious.

I spent all afternoon crafting a much-requested post for your reading pleasure. It was a rather detailed post relating a simple, kind of silly thing I was really excited about today. Then with one misplaced keystroke I ruined it. The only way to fix it would be to start over again, which I'm too angry to waste my time doing. It's probably more than just that that has me feeling like I'm about to boil over right now, but I need a scapegoat. If I had an idiot to berate or a block of wood to smash some nails into, or an idiot to berate, or some cheap dishes to throw against my cinder block wall (and someone else to do the clean-up), or an idiot to berate, the blog might not be getting the ax. But I don't, so it is.

p.s. I was blogging about the new Pretzel M&M's. Try them. They're my new fave.

Laundry Room Redo

2010-04-19T14:00:00.000-07:00

Recently I was talking to a new friend of mine about my well-documented boy drama. She could relate to the situation in a way most people can't: she is about the same age I am and her husband was killed in an accident about a month before Matt. We don't know each other well, but it's amazing how clued-in you can become to someone else's life when you share something of that magnitude. Her parting words to me were: "Well, sounds like you better call your contractor friend and remodel something."

Oh yeah, she's got me pegged. Every bout of extreme boredom and loneliness in the last year and a half has been followed by remodeling or creating of some kind. But I didn't think it was fair to start another project when I still haven't blogged pics of the remodel a very lonely Christmas and New Year brought on. While it wasn't the first element of the last phase of remodeling, I'll start with the laundry room.

BEFORE:

Boring, bland laundry room with absolutely no wow factor and even less storage...seriously uninspiring...

AFTER:

Now I'm not one who needs an incentive to do laundry. For me it is it's own incentive. I like how routine and systematic it is. It relaxes me and I love thinking about how much I'm accomplishing in the day when the machines are actually doing most of the work. But every time we come and go from the house throughout the day, we go through the laundry room. So I wanted it to look more like an entry way, not like a drab utility room.

When I had the crown moulding ripped out of the piano room to do the ceiling in there (another post, sorry!) I had the carpenters move it into the laundry room and powder room. Crown moulding in the laundry room...*sigh*

I had these knobs custom painted for the cabinetry. How fun are those?! Since I took these pictures they have been installed on the cabinets. A friend stopped by the other day and said "These are SO you!" That's one of my favorite compliments, when people see really cute stuff and say it makes them think of me.

I'm not just saying this for the sake of the blog post, but I have to go rotate some laundry now.

Funky Flower Quilt

2010-04-14T07:17:00.000-07:00

My friend Krista asked me to make a quilt for her daughter's birthday this week. Having all boys myself, I love the opportunity to do anything girly so of course I said yes. But I am a girly-girl and Krista's girls are funky-girls. So I couldn't get away with a remake of the rose quilt. The pattern we decided on came together quickly and ended up being cuter than I thought it would be.

Krista and the funky girls used to live next door, but they moved last weekend. So instead of being able to pop over to check on my progress, I have to post pictures on the blog for her to see how the quilt has turned out:

Since she chose the fabrics, I'm pretty sure Krista will like it. I'm just hoping it makes the 8-year-old happy!

Not Just a Pretty Face

2010-04-07T19:16:00.001-07:00

Have you ever known someone who, on the surface, just didn't seem too bright? But every now and then they'd say something that gave you the idea that the wheels were turning up there after all?

If you've read this blog more than a couple of times, you might have noticed that we sometimes refer to Hunter as the family cheerleader. He has this sweet, happy-go-lucky way of living life that sometimes makes him seem...well...not all there.

But sometimes he gives himself away. Today we went to his future elementary school for developmental assessment for kindergarten. The woman doing the testing asked him if he could please try counting as high as he could go. "By fives or tens?" he asked.

My Loss is Your Gain

2010-04-05T15:12:00.001-07:00

I've been trying all day to figure out how to write this post without mentioning the origin of the sentiment, but it's not possible. This is my blog and I blog my life. But in fairness to the other party I'll be vague. Sort of.

I have just survived one of the most painful weekends of my life. Unfortunately the pain isn't over, but at least the weekend is. That sounds dramatic, I know, but it's true. Until recently I haven't dated since Matt's death. And if it were completely up to me I probably still wouldn't. But this guy just sort of...happened. He is cute, and charming, and funny, and smart--not to mention awesome with my boys, and did I say cute? Seriously dreamy blue eyes. I'm a sucker for laugh lines.

So we went out...and then we went out again...and again...and a few more 'agains'. And there were times when I knew it wasn't going to go anywhere but I wanted it to because he fit 19 of the 23 "Requirements for a Guy" as I have outlined in my Blackberry. Plus I said he's cute, remember? But as of this weekend we're not dating anymore...because I'll always belong to another man. His decision, not mine. I wish I could express how intensely painful it is to be rejected over something like that, something that will never go away, something over which I have no control, something he knew before he started dating me.

Saturday afternoon, right in the middle of the break-up, I went upstairs to get Seth after his nap. Right at the top of the stairs is a really beautiful, rather large picture of Matt. I crumbled in a heap on the floor and sobbed into my arms when I saw it. As mascara-stained tears soaked my sleeve I thought of how I had betrayed my deceased husband...for nothing...for a man who could never see past my circumstances to who I am and love me like Matt had. Or at all. I cried so hard that a pool of slimy, clear snot formed on my arm with a steady stream still connecting it to my nose.

About the time there was a break in the sobs, my dear sister walked in with Specimen #2. Sisters are good that way. So here it is, the All-American Chocolate Cake from Costco:

I cheered up just for a little bit. Sunday I spent most of the day crying again, and as I sacked out on the couch with a blanket and tissues I apologized to my kids for being a crappy mom. They insisted I'm not a crappy mom. "Really? What's not crappy about me?" I asked. "You gave us chocolate cake for dinner last night," they said, "and a crappy mom would never give their kids chocolate cake for dinner."

He's No Fool

2010-04-01T10:33:00.000-07:00

Brig is in the 2nd grade. The 2nd grade discipline system at his school is based on each student starting the day with a certain number of stars, which get taken away during the day for various infractions. At the end of the day the teacher writes the number of stars each student ended up with on their folders. They bring them home, the parent signs to indicate they are aware of the student's behavior, and the folders go back to the teacher the next day. If a parent forgets to sign the folder, the kid automatically loses a star.

Brig has never lost a star. I'm pretty sure it would be catastrophic for him. While I have reassured him many times that I will still love him and be proud of him if he does, he doesn't feel like he can risk it.

This morning Brig brought me his folder to sign and informed me that I had forgotten to sign the day before. He should have lost a star, "but it's okay," he said. "I just told Mrs. M you were grouchy that day and she said 'No biggie'."

His perfect star record remains untarnished...

Chocolate Cake Trifecta

2010-03-13T07:40:00.001-08:00

I could argue on any day of the week that chocolate cake is the foundation of dessert cuisine. Remove it, and the whole food pyramid crumbles. For me, there is no treat as satisfying as really good chocolate cake, and nothing more dissatisfying than bad chocolate cake. You might be tempted to think that chocolate cake is, merely by its nature, good. Not so. Sometimes chocolate cake is just brown. Homemade chocolate cake is almost always good, but for some reason, when you venture out into the realm of bakeries and restaurants the more likely verdict is that it's just brown.

After spending years in field research on the subject, I feel completely confident putting a wager on a chocolate cake trifecta. Over the next few weeks...or months... I'll introduce you to all 3 contenders. (I have to pace myself: these cakes are huge and I can't post if I'm in a sugar coma.)

Specimen number 1, The Black-Out Cake from Cheesecake Factory:

That is real whipped cream folks. Essential to a really good chocolate cake. You don't necessarily have to have cream on chocolate cake for it to be good, but if you do it must be real whipped cream. Go anywhere near it with Cool Whip and you've just knocked it down to mediocre, regardless of how good the cake is on its own.

The pictures will have to suffice because I'm at a loss for words. I just let Brig have a couple of bites. His eyes rolled back into his head like a Great White shark moving in for a kill. I think that means it's good.

At Least He's Cute

2010-02-23T12:58:00.000-08:00

I don't know why, but blogging has shifted to chore status for me lately, and not even one of my favorite chores (vacuuming and laundry). I used to look at life from a blogging perspective...for about a year every worthwhile moment/experience/thought/event was accompanied by the notion that I should blog it. Something has changed for me recently. Some of you have noticed it too. I received the following message from a friend on Facebook this evening:

"I really really need a new blog post from you. I always look forward to them! Get Seth a straight jacket and strap him to post. You can get something done then. :) "

Both timely and ironic.

Seth is our family scapegoat. Any negative outcome or undesirable hiccup in any situation is blamed on Seth. Every phone off the hook, every clean laundry pile unfolded, every cup of water spilled, every toy bin dumped out, every bag of Cheerios found smashed into the carpet, every toilet played in, every drawer removed and overturned, every meal thrown up, every full box of cereal found emptied on the floor, every late arrival to any function or cancellation of the activity all-together...it ALL gets blamed on Seth. In defense of the rest of the family, 9 times out of ten--it really is Seth's fault. In Seth's defense, he's taking it well. Though while I'm here and have the opportunity, I'm going to blame my recent blogging slump on him too. Because this is what I find when I try to get anything done with him around:

Oh Seth. Dozens of times a day I hear little voices insist "it was Seth!" 9 times out of ten, I sigh and mumble, "At least he's cute." For the time being anyway...

The Cutest Quilt Ever

2010-02-14T11:32:00.000-08:00

Hey remember that one time I had a blog?...and I posted things on it?...regularly? Me too. I know, I've been lame lately. It's not that we haven't had interesting things going on around here. Quite the opposite in fact--we've had so many interesting things going on around here that I can't be bothered to blog and only the seriously dramatic amputation stories make it on. I think we're done with those for a little while (though I will give you a yummy after pic in the next few days) so now I can just catch up with the not as dramatic stuff.

The day before Seth's accident I finished that quilt I was working on. Since it finally made it to its intended recipient last week I thought I'd show you the finished product. I had to get it in the mail before I had a change of heart and sold it to the highest bidder! It really is one of my all-time favorite projects:

I'm trying to decide on the color palette for the next one...sadly, it too already has a designated recipient.

A Cautionary Tale for Crazy Babies Everywhere

2010-01-27T11:26:00.000-08:00

Seth is a handful. Anyone who knows him personally knows this about him. He is a 15-month-old force to be reckoned with. Our neighbor friend calls him Sethanator, I call him Little Monster, his brothers call him Baby Kong...you get the idea. Today he is slightly less of a handful, but only literally, and today we're adding "Mr. Stubs" to his well-earned and expanding collection of nicknames.

Last night he chopped the end of his finger off.

All 3 boys were playing in the front yard with the babysitter. Mr. B turned his bike upside down and was spinning the pedals. Word on the street is that this is a super fun game. Seth thought so anyway. He reached out and stuck his chubby little finger in the bike chain, which cut it right off. (We still haven't found it.)

It took three of us to hold Seth down for this shot...Did I mention he's a handful? The x-ray doesn't do it justice since the 2nd finger wasn't straight at the time the x-ray was taken and it obviously omits the blood and gore an actual photo wouldn't. I'd post an actual photo, but every time Seth's finger was exposed last night it gushed blood...which made picture taking feel irresponsible...But, if you hold your hand up and look at your index finger and imagine everything north of the nailbed is gone and then imagine that there's a bone visibly poking out from the center of that, you'll get a good idea of what Seth's finger looks like.

Right now he's bandaged up to his elbow, with a tube sock over that so he can't rip off the bandages. He doesn't know that he should be miserable and very still. He also doesn't know that he shouldn't chew on his stump and thump it on things, which is a little disturbing. We meet with a hand surgeon tomorrow, so we'll know more about the fate of the rest of his finger then.

If you thought taking care of a rambunctious baby was hard, try taking care of a rambunctious baby on heavy narcotics. Holy Smokes. I need a nap.

For My Mom Who Cannot Imagine What a Fried Egg Flower Might Look Like

2010-01-07T10:29:00.000-08:00

A couple nights ago I was happily sewing along on my latest project while I chatted on the phone with my mom. She asked what I was working on and when I said only the cutest flower quilt EVER, she asked what the flowers looked like. I guess my description "like fried eggs with two more layers" didn't conjure up mental images of a very cute flower. Hopefully this helps:

Resolution for 2010

2010-01-01T08:47:00.000-08:00

Thinking back to last New Year's Day, I can't help but be a little disappointed with this New Year's Day. If I'm writing candidly, I have to admit that I'm nowhere near where I thought I'd be a year ago. I'd be ungrateful if I didn't acknowledge the positive things that have happened for my family in 2009, but still I think I set my expectations a little high.

Probably from thinking about this combined with everyday stress and tension, the other day I had a massive headache. A headache so bad that at a couple of points I thought death would be less painful. Then I ate an apple and my headache morphed into little more than a dull pain. I started thinking about that show "Mythbusters"...

I hate that show. Ordinarily I try to avoid use of the word "hate" because it's so negative. But I really hate that show. Is it that one guy's seriously annoying mustache that leads me to feel so strongly about the show? Or is it the fact that whenever it's on I find myself internally begging these morons to grow up and find a real job? But if I really think about it, these people are being paid lots of money to figure out whether or not there's any legitimacy to MacGyver's escape tactics so who am I to begrudge them that?

Back to my headache and the apple...I'm pretty sure it was the motion of chewing and the pressure of the apple on my teeth that relaxed my jaw and decreased the intensity of the pain in my head. But the old adage came to mind: "An apple a day keeps the doctor away." What if there's something to that? What if the healing powers of the basic apple extend beyond TMJ and headaches?

RESOLVED, and thereby infinitely lowering my expectations for 2010, I am going to test the apple a day theory by eating an apple every single day for the entire year. I'm being influenced by the handful of episodes of Mythbusters I've suffered through for sure, but what could it hurt? By the end of the year I could be in better shape than ever and planning a vacation with the money I've saved on copays.

MercyMe "Homesick"

2009-12-30T19:41:00.000-08:00

It's been a little while since I posted anything heartfelt and potentially depressing. In case that has caused you to think maybe I'm not still crying myself to sleep at night I thought I'd set the record straight. I always feel on some level that sadness is my shadow, but the intensity fluctuates from week to week and day to day. The last few weeks have felt...empty. My relationship with my boys has been particularly awesome, like I'm getting into the groove of the whole single parenting thing...though I did remark to a friend the other night that if I had wanted to be a single parent I would've gotten knocked up in high school. (That's a joke, Mom.) My boys are adorable, hilarious little people and I thank God daily that I have been blessed with them. Oddly, that doesn't fill the hole.

So I'm working on a project right now and I'm listening to the radio. A song just came on, and I've heard it before, but I guess I've never really listened to it. Just now I did and it had me bawling in my kitchen, so of course I'm going to share. I've never been big on Christian rock, but this one is definitely worth a listen. Unless you care what your mascara looks like right now, in which case you should skip it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IL0s1ah2Wmc

I guess for me it sums up how it feels to go through one more round of Thanksgiving-Christmas-New Year's without my man. I'm homesick.

Not Your Mother's S'mores

2009-12-29T11:48:00.000-08:00

Inspiration can come from anywhere. It's almost inspiring just thinking about all the places you can get inspiration. Last week I got it on an end cap at Target. It looked an awful lot like a bag of caramel filled- and a bag of peanut butter filled- Ghirardelli squares.

Last week with our Texas constituency in town for Christmas we decided it was finally time to break in the backyard fire pit with a family marshmallow roast. So after a delicious dinner at Lulu's Tacos we headed back to the casa.

The day before the big event I had gone to Target to pick up some Hershey bars for s'mores making (which should be an Olympic Sport...or the official National Pastime...or something really awesome) and that's when I got inspired... If there's one thing I learned from all my years with Matt, it's that even a great classic can be improved on. Laymen might consider it more of a snob factor, which is fine by me. We'll just call these Snobby S'mores...they are lovingly made with the afore mentioned Ghirardelli squares instead of the everyday Hershey bar. And Oh My Cow (direct quote from Hunter) are they good!

Seriously inspired.

While I wouldn't say it came about as the result of inspiration, this is Hunter's version of a s'more. "I don't need the crackers" he says.

Christmas Eve

2009-12-26T19:47:00.000-08:00

O Christmas Tree!

2009-12-24T10:03:00.000-08:00

Say Cheese

2009-12-16T19:45:00.001-08:00

I love cupcakes. I love cake in general, but there's something very charming to me about cupcakes. Sometimes I think maybe it's my calling in life to bake fabulous cupcakes. (That's on my less serious days of course, when I'm not too concerned about leaving my mark on humanity.) So when I saw this magazine at the check-out stand a few weeks ago, I had to grab it. It was on the kitchen table during a recent visit from our Atlanta constituency. Please take a minute to study the chocolate cupcake on the right, the one in the purple liner.

My four-year-old niece picked up the magazine and after studying it intently asked, "Why did someone put cheese on that cupcake?"

I explained that while it might look like cheese it was really white chocolate. She was unconvinced.

While the men-folk went off to do boy things that evening, the women-folk got to cupcake making. When it came time to decorate, my niece asked for some cheese. My sister-in-law and I tried to sway her with colorful sprinkles--after all, what little girl wouldn't love to decorate cupcakes with all kinds of colorful sprinkles? Again, she was unconvinced. So I gave her a stick of cheese. I guess I just thought she'd plop it right down on the top of the cupcake. I was wrong. Apparently my niece is as serious about cupcakes as I am. I looked up from my own cupcake decorating to see this:

How can you see something like that and not love kids?! Warms my heart I tell you! My little niece ate that cupcake, and she enjoyed every bite.

The 1st Miracle of Christmas

2009-12-14T11:26:00.000-08:00

I read a quote recently that said something about something doesn't have to be perfect to be beautiful. While I agree with this statement, I have to say that perfection doesn't hurt anything either.

For several weeks this has been the scene in our kitchen: an island out of food prep commission and covered with birdhouses in various stages of done-ness.

I'm not one to accept help when I've got a project going on because I like things just so. The kids always ask and I always say no. But when Hunter asked if he and Brig could put some rhinestones on the birdhouses for the Christmas tree, it warmed my heart. I guess I figured any 4-year-old boy who could properly use the word "rhinestone" in a sentence deserved a little kickback. Either that or I was just really tired of the birdhouses all over the island and wanted them done.

So the first miracle of the Christmas season has taken place in our household...I gave in, and Brigham and Hunter got to help with a project.

Another Round

2009-12-09T15:21:00.000-08:00

Last week the clan headed over to a friend's family's farm for another round of family pictures. I wanted some that were a little more casual and little boy friendly...and what is more casual--or boy friendly--than a farm?

We had easily a dozen perfect back-drops, but Seth wasn't having it. Quite uncharacteristically, he cried almost the entire photo shoot. Maybe more like sobbing. At any rate it was pretty pitiful. I wish I was exaggerating, but I'm sure once I have the rest of the pics back from our photog Cami we'll have proof. Here are just a handful that Seth didn't completely freak out in:

This shot is the one I most wanted out of the photo shoot, my sassy heels with my little fellas in their Chucks. I'm planning to redo my blog with this shot. And the truth is, Seth was screaming his head off for this one, but we figured it didn't really matter since his face doesn't show. More of that tough love parenting I'm so fond of...

And boys being boys...

Polar Bear Club

2009-12-06T19:33:00.000-08:00

Just a couple of days ago I found myself staring out my kitchen window. I caught myself actually feeling shocked that there is a rather large swimming pool out there where not so long ago there was grass and dirt. It was awesome. But even with that momentary feeling of awe, I have absolutely no desire to jump in said pool. I am a wimp of titanic proportions where cold is concerned. If I even look at the pool for too long I feel my toes start to go numb and I'm checking for symptoms of frostbite.

Hunter does not share my sensitivity to the cold. Every couple of days he begs to go swimming. Every couple of days I explain the concept of seasons and assure him that the water that looks so inviting in his mind is, in fact, only a few degrees above freezing.

Yesterday he asked again. Yesterday I decided to let him figure it out for himself.

The following is a photo-documentary of Hunter's education. Watch closely how the expression on his face changes as he realizes his mother is not a complete idiot:

Practicing tough love. It brings tears (of laughter) to my eyes every time...

Red Velvet Truffles

2009-12-04T11:44:00.000-08:00

Two food posts in a row...should I be embarrassed by that? I heard about this recipe from a friend of mine and just had to try it out. Red Velvet Truffles from Bakerella. They are probably not my most favorite treat ever, but they are super easy...not to mention kind of impressive and totally kid-friendly if you have littles who want to help out. Brig and Hunter rolled the filling into balls for me and I did the dipping.

Red Velvet Truffles

Red Velvet Cake
1 can of Cream Cheese frosting
1 pkg. of almond bark

Prepare and bake the cake as directed on the box for a 9x13 cake. Once it is completely cooled, break it up into a mixing bowl and completely stir in the frosting. Shape into balls about the size of a quarter. Chill. (Truthfully, we didn't chill ours. We went straight for the chocolate and they turned out fine. I think the idea behind chilling is that the cake balls won't be as likely to break up during dipping if they're cold, but we didn't have any problem with ours at room temperature.) Melt the almond bark according to the directions on the package. Dip the cake balls, completely coating them, and place on parchment or wax paper until set.

If you wanted to try truffles but aren't crazy about the red velvet, any flavor of cake and frosting could be used. I'm thinking right this minute about trying a chocolate cake mix with a couple drops of mint extract mixed into white frosting...

Thanksgiving

2009-11-26T20:55:00.000-08:00

It's no secret that I don't like to cook. It's way down low on my list of favorites. I do it solely out of obligation and necessity.

But here it is, Thanksgiving. The cooking-est holiday of the year--and year after year, regardless of where we commemorate the day, I am always asked to prepare exactly one dish. This is it:

It doesn't photograph well so I'm sure you're hardly impressed, but if you haven't met already let me introduce you to Cookie Salad. Yes, that's right. Cookie Salad. Despite all my possible charms, Cookie Salad is the reason I am invited to Thanksgiving dinner. Without it, I seriously don't believe I would make it through the front door. I've taken it to potlucks before where it has been sadly mistaken for a really plain potato salad, until one unsuspecting soul takes a bite. Then the bells sound and the bowl is emptied. It's that good.

Cookie Salad

2 cups buttermilk

2 small boxes of vanilla instant pudding

16 oz. Cool Whip

2 cans pineapple tidbits, drained

2 large cans mandarin oranges, drained

1 package of Keebler Fudgestripe cookies

In a large bowl whisk together buttermilk and pudding powder. Gently fold in the Cool Whip, trying not to stir too aggressively or it will go flat. Add the fruit, stirring gently. Break up the cookies and stir those in as well. Refrigerate for 2-3 hours before serving.

(The night before you plan to make this, put the cans of fruit and the Cool Whip in the refrigerator. The fruit is better added cold and frozen Cool Whip is a little difficult to work with for this. Also, don't go generic on the Fudgestripe cookies. All things are not created equal.)

Hope you had a happy Thanksgiving, with or without the Cookie Salad!

An OCD Christmas

2009-11-18T10:52:00.000-08:00

A couple of days ago our home was all a buzz with talk of Brig's latest quandary. Is Santa real or not? I told him it was up to him to decide for himself. He believes, but that doesn't alleviate his suffering; it just creates a new problem. What if he believes in Santa, but Santa isn't real after all. Then his kids, when he has them, won't get anything for Christmas. He hasn't come up with a solution for that one yet, but Hunter, always listening in the background, has. "I believe in Mom," he said. For someone still having issues with potty training that is one smart kid.

I've been dreading the impending holidays for some time now. I think Thanksgiving will be okay, but the idea of doing the whole after the kids go to bed Christmas Eve thing by myself is hardly appealing. (You know what I mean, right? I'm trying not to out anyone here, just in case I have young readers.) So I've been trying to put a little jingle in my step despite my real feelings. For me this means having projects to work on: new stockings for the entire family, handmade Christmas cards, and a ridiculously fun new decorating scheme for the tree. To have the time to get all these projects done I knew I needed to bust out all my Christmas shopping pronto. With two great formulas, I got all of it done in one evening. Kids and extended family. Enough of my friends and family have asked for my system that I figured it would be easiest to just blog it.

My kid formula is not original, I read it on a blog last year, but it was too late to incorporate then. Here it is: something you want, something you need, something to wear, something to read. 4 items. (And stockings of course.) It's clear, it's organized and it's concise. What obsessive-compulsive dreams are made of! So go to your favorite kid clothing store and buy an outfit or article of clothing for each kid and check it off the list. Go to the bookstore, pick out a book for each kid and check it off the list. You get the idea. And you're doing all this as Santa's helper, of course.

I am crazy excited about my formula for all the extended family, but I have to be vague so I don't ruin it for all my extended family members who read my blog. I'm excited about it because it was fun to think up, fun to put together, it will give the recipients some insight into our family, and it has the potential of turning into an annual tradition. Each family member picked a favorite thing (or I chose it for them, just knowing their favorites) and we bought 8 of them. Everything will be wrapped with a tag saying whose favorite the item is and one of each item goes in a basket for each of the extended family members. So for my family they are "Five Favorites" baskets. (I included one of Matt's favorites. I'm not done being sentimental yet.) Some ideas for favorites are movies, books, board games, video games, candy bars, treats, restaurant or store gift cards, magazine subscriptions, museum memberships, scented candles, favorite type of popcorn, favorite color of play-doh...depending on the categories you choose you could spend as much or as little as you want on this. It works for any budget. And every year the kids can decide what their favorite thing is to share with the rest of the family.

And there you go. The shopping is done and I can go back to building birdhouses and looking for a stuffed peacock to sit atop my Christmas tree.

Family Pics

2009-11-13T14:37:00.001-08:00

I am a sucker for cute family pictures. As a necessary component of the cuteness, I'm one of those people who insists everyone's outfits coordinate. They don't have to match, but they do have to coordinate. This is partially an act of rebellion. Growing up, our family photo sessions always came with a wardrobe free-for-all. Our family pictures were always awful. I think the two conditions are related. (This is where my mom will protest...She's going to say that they were not awful...She's going to attest that our family pictures were beautiful...She is not objective...I love my mom.)

A couple of weeks ago we headed down to the Mesa Arts Center for a photo session with our good friend Cami Epperson. To add an element of Matt in addition to those cherubic little faces, I dressed the boys in pants, white shirts and Matt's neckties...coordinating neckties. I haven't seen all the pictures yet, but here's a sneak peek at a few she just put on her blog:

What I Figured Out Today

2009-11-05T21:03:00.000-08:00

I've had a really crappy week. Like a cry-myself-to-sleep-every-night-my-friends-keep-bringing-me-Dr.Pepper-my-bishop-is-texting-me kind of week. Don't feel sorry for me and post all kinds of sweet comments about how difficult my life is and how anyone in my situation would have a crappy week sometimes, because I bring it on myself. I feel this huge weight on my shoulders to have everything all figured out. To know what I'm supposed to be when I grow up, to have a future mapped out for my kids, to understand where we're supposed to be and how we're supposed to get there, to know how to be the mom and the dad...It's daunting and I think way too much.

Yesterday on Facebook my status update said something dismal about needing a break from trying to figure things out all the time. Today I followed it up saying I've got it all figured out. Some of you have expressed some curiosity...

This morning while I was on the elliptical I caught an episode of Glee on Hulu. I'm not a regular watcher, but I'm current on all my other shows and needed something to watch. It was the episode where the gay kid in Glee Club uses the Beyonce song "Single Ladies" as his personal mantra. He plays it as he tries out for the football team. It pumps him up and gives him confidence and turns him, and eventually the whole football team, into star athletes that do their dads proud from the stands.

It's amazing to me what tiny things can impact moods and environment. Music is huge. If I had to make a list of things I can't live without, my XM radio would be on the short list. It's in the kitchen and I have it on more than it's off. A few nights ago we were getting ready for dinner and the boys were particularly grouchy. All 3 of them. I was thisclose to screaming when I decided to crank up the radio and demand a 3 minute dance party instead. As I shook my groove thang right there in the kitchen the boys looked at me like I had lost my mind. One at a time I grabbed their hands and made them dance. One at a time they started to smile. By the time we actually sat down for dinner they were little angels. Just because of a radio and a 3 minute dance party.

I've never watched the Mary Tyler Moore show. A friend of mine loved it growing up, but I could never understand why. One thing I did understand, though, is how cool it would be to have your own theme song. Of course Mary Tyler Moore was skipping all over town throwing that stupid hat up in the air every day on her way to work: she had an awesome theme song that started playing the second she stepped out her door every morning.

So this is what I figured out...you can get yourself through anything if you've got an awesome theme song playing in your head.

Halloween 2009

2009-11-03T09:02:00.000-08:00

My kids really love Halloween. It freaks me out a tiny bit. They don't just like the dressing up and getting candy part, they like the gore and spooky parts too. This is the sign that has been on our front door for the past month:

Inviting, no? My favorite part of the sign is how Mr. B clearly specified that it was written in blood. Wouldn't want anyone standing on our front porch to be confused about what we use to write our welcome signs.

Brig decided early on that he wanted to be The Grim Reaper. He is by far the creepiest of my kids.

Hunter wanted to be a mummy. I asked him for months if he was sure he wanted to be a mummy. Indeed. Two nights before the first of the Halloween festivities I pulled out Hunter's skeleton costume from last year, hoping I might be able to persuade him to wear it one more year. He took one look and said, "That's not me." So the day before party #1 I spent hours running all over town looking for mummy supplies. I am a freak. I wanted it to be more realistic than just torn up sheets so I went to feed supply stores for those big 6" bandages used for horses. I figured they'd be perfect once I dyed them with a little walnut ink and rolled them around in the dirt a bit. No one carries white ones, just the yucky un-mummy looking beige. So I ended up with 3 yards of gauzy white fabric, a white t-shirt and white leggings. Right before the party I ripped up all that fabric...put Mr. H in the t-shirt and leggings...and he flipped out. Maybe he couldn't feel like a man in white leggings, I don't know, but he absolutely refused to dress as a mummy...

*Sigh* He wouldn't even let me put makeup on him. Oh well. I'm all ready with a mummy costume for next year.

And then there's Seth...This is my favorite age for Halloween costumes. The kids have no ideas of their own and will let me dress them however I want. Seth was a model child this year. Not only did he wear exactly what I wanted him to, but he never even tried to take any of it off. I think he may have liked it, actually...

My only complaint is that he kept trying to eat my eyeliner when I was drawing on his mustache.

(Special thanks to Andrea for being my seamstress for Seth's costume.)

Completely Finished

2009-10-25T16:14:00.000-07:00

Lately when I think about sitting down at the computer to blog, I find myself torn between yawning and gagging. It's not that we lack things to blog about chez Bren, I simply lack the desire. However, every week when Sitemeter sends me the report of how many of you stop by, I feel guilty that I haven't given you anything new to read. Of all the things I could feel guilty about in my life I choose my lack of desire for blogging...

To ease my guilt while exerting the least amount of effort possible, I give you the finally finished backyard...

The view from the backdoor. I really dig the double gate to the pool. It makes for a little drama, which you all know I like in my design schemes, and can be opened wide for parties and whatnot.

The cinderblock wall has been painted...and repainted. The first time around it came out looking like something I don't blog about but ryhmes with schmiarrhea. My landscaper tried to convince me that it wasn't worth paying to redo because once the landscaping was in I would hardly notice it. My contractor, on the other hand, called the painter and scheduled the repainting during the convo with the landscaper because he knew I would notice it even if an entire forest was planted in front of it. Good man. (Shameless plug for Frankie: he's the best GC ever. Let me know if you ever need one.)

I have a really hard time thinking of this as done because I want the shrubs and trees and flowers to look like they've already been there for 5 years. Right now they look kinda puny...Check back in 5 years.

Cute little path between the splash pad and the fire pit. The stones are placed close together so you can frolick comfortably if you're a leprechaun* or you're under the age of ten. (*Originally I used the word midget here, but changed it to the mythical leprechaun to avoid offending any of my vertically challenged readers.)

Even though they're little baby ones, I became such a huge fan of the cyprus that there are now 16 placed around the premises. I'm hoping for the overgrown Italian villa look.

And there you have it. I've been informed that people are waiting for their homemade hot fudge, so I've got to jet. I'm not even going to re-read for grammatical errors before publishing, which pains me...but hot fudge is serious business.

Aging Gracefully

2009-10-15T17:55:00.000-07:00

About 4 months ago I bought a Wii balance board so I could kick up my fitness routine a notch. I love yoga, but getting to a class on a regular basis has proved elusive, so the Wii Fit seemed like a good alternative. It's been gathering dust ever since I bought it. Now that Aunt Ami is here, we decided to dust it off and get it going.

We now have our profiles set up and we've done all the preliminary testing to get started. The balance test was particularly revealing. It's "not my forte", to quote the Wii, and resulted in a Wii Fit age of 41!! If I can go off on a tangent, this actually explains a lot. I'm constantly hitting my head on things. I lose my pinky toenails about twice a year from catching them on the couch as I walk by. Two of my toenails are crooked from being ripped off so many times. Random, unexplained bruises show up all the time. I stab my shoulder on the corner of the stair railing at least once a week, and just last week while brushing the pool at 7 am, I took one misplaced step backwards and fell in, fully clothed. It was cold.

So apparently I'm not all that aware of my physical self.

Anyway, I was so appalled by my age that we've joked about it around the house quite a bit the last two days. My fixation hasn't escaped Hunter's notice. Today, he came up to me and asked me how old he is. "You're 4," I answered, surprised that he needed to ask. "No," he responded, "in Wii years."

3rd Favorite Face

2009-10-08T20:06:00.001-07:00

It's hard to believe, but this adorable little person is one year old today. Oh I love that face!

He's getting cheated out of a lengthy post because we just got home from beach camping and we're in complete disarray...more on that later.

Happy Fall

2009-10-02T08:42:00.000-07:00

I am having a really hard time wrapping my brain around it being October already! I don't know what happened to September, but I'm enjoying the change in temperatures even if it is making the pool coldish. For some reason, this time of year always makes me think of my college days at the University of Oklahoma. The campus was absolutely beautiful in the fall.

I had a professor my senior year who used to cut us a break every now and then with an answer on a test or something. Along with the heads up, he'd always say "You're gonna want to kiss me full on the lips." It cracked me up every time.

With Fall officially here, a friend texted me a few days ago asking if I have a good Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Cookie recipe. Heck yeah I do. Since she brought it up I had to make some. They're so good your kids will eat them and so easy you're gonna want to kiss me full on the lips.

1 package of Spice Cake Mix

1 small can of pure pumpkin (or 1/2 a large can)

mini semi-sweet chocolate chips

Mix together the cake mix powder and the pumpkin. (You can also use a carrot cake mix if you need to.) It might seem like there's not enough moisture to incorporate the cake mix powder, but keep stirring. It will work. Once you have that mixed up, add the mini chips. Bake at 350 degrees for about 12 minutes. That part is a little trial and error, but don't over bake. It ruins them.

Seriously, that's it--3 ingredients. Try them out, then come back and tell me if you're thinking about kissing me.

Puddle Hopping

2009-09-25T16:37:00.001-07:00

It's finally finished and we are ready for the big unveiling...

A friend of mine tried to talk me out of the boulder on the baja step before it was mortared in, but having already had 7 kids in the pool at one time, I can tell you that jump rock is a screaming success.

All the pots light up, we just had one on to test. I acknowledge that there is a certain amount of common sense expected of ones children when open fire is right next to designated diving platforms...I'll let you know how it goes. If in subsequent posts my kids are sporting gauze bandages on any extremities, that's your sign that it hasn't gone well.

These columns are probably my favorite feature. The sound of the water cascading down, the flickering of the fire, the glow of the interior pool light at night. Buddha would be happy. *gasp* Brainchild! I should become certified to teach yoga and have classes poolside at night!

The kids are all so excited the pool is finally done. The chemicals were just balanced on Wednesday and they've already been in 3 times.

Tomorrow the cinder block wall will be painted, landscaping and patio resurfacing next week. Then we'll be ready for the full before and after. If you're going to come swim let me know quick--the water is just going to get colder from here on out!

Happy Medians

2009-09-20T20:25:00.000-07:00

Since you've all graciously returned following my recent angst, I figured you're due a fluffy post.

Back in the olden days, Sundays were a day for entertaining. Almost every week we invited friends over. Matt would put on quite a culinary performance in the kitchen and I would spend the next day and a half washing every pot, lid, bowl, whisk, baking dish, spatula....that took up space in our kitchen. I'm not complaining, it was a fabulous arrangement for us. Matt viewed cooking as an art form and I would (and frequently do) choose cleaning over food prep any day.

Now that it's just me and my littles, we never have friends over for Sunday dinner. I don't enjoy show cooking, and knowing I'd have to come up with something fabulous for dinner and clean up afterwards is hardly motivating. But Brigham asks constantly who we can have over for dinner. I knew we needed a compromise, so we began Sunday Sundaes. Brigham can invite over the family of his choice, we make a big bowl of homemade hot fudge, and everyone gets to decorate their sundae with a smorgasbord of toppings. Brigham gets his socializing and I have minimal prep and clean up. Perfecto.

Today we are all in various stages of monster colds/flu so we couldn't invite anyone over for Sunday Sundaes. It was just us, but Brigham handled it well. (I keep forgetting that he wants to be called Brig. He doesn't like having a name with "ham" in it. He's okay eating it though.) This is the best and easiest recipe you will ever find for homemade hot fudge:

1 cup semi sweet chocolate chips

4 Tbs. butter (please don't use margarine)

1 can sweetened condensed milk

2 Tbs. water

microwave for about 30-45 seconds at a time until the mixture can be completely combined. Stir in 1 tsp. of vanilla when you're finished microwaving. (Vanilla, chocolate and microwaves don't mix well.)

Mine is the one on the top. I'm a sundae puritan with just vanilla ice cream and hot fudge. Hunter's is the bottom left. He gets a little more decorated adding sprinkles and mini M&Ms, and Brigham...ahem, BRIG... is the most complex with all of the above plus crushed Oreos and mini chocolate chips.

The happy chefs made their own sundaes...

...and I, of course, cleaned up.

Stomach Issues

2009-09-14T10:32:00.000-07:00

I've been trying to get all geared up today for a fluffy post about the progress in the backyard, but things just aren't shaping up that way. Sorry...

Have you ever noticed how your stomach shrinks when you haven't eaten in awhile? When you're not used to eating enormous quantities of food it takes less to fill your stomach than it does when you regularly put away a lot of food. Every time I've ever fasted I think about all the food I'm going to eat when I'm done fasting. But inevitably I don't make it even half way through my list because my stomach feels full pretty quickly once I start eating again.

I think this is the basic premise behind gastric bypass. Shrink the stomach so it holds less and lose weight because you can't eat as much. Unless you gradually eat more and more, then the stomach gets stretched out again, you eat more and start gaining the weight back. But if you never get your stomach all stretched out to begin with you don't need tons of food to fill it in the first place. This is of course an uneducated summary of the stomach shrinking phenomenon, but it sounds reasonable to me.

Right about now you might be wondering what the heck this has to do with anything. Last night I fell asleep thinking about the moron who said "Tis better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all." I can't decide which side of the love fence he was sitting on, but I can tell you that the side I'm sitting on, the loved-and-lost side, feels really crappy. (That is censored for my more sensitive readers...you're welcome.) So naturally thinking about this leads me to think about shrunken stomachs because the same thing that happens with our stomachs happens with our hearts and souls...

I was a month shy of 25 when Matt and I got married. By Mormon standards that was old. Ancient practically. So I spent a decent number of my adult years being the subject of the why-hasn't-anyone-scooped-her-up conversation among enquiring minds. Sure I wanted a guy, wanted to love and be loved and grow old creating a fabulous life with someone amazing. But it was fairly easy to fill the void with college stuff and work stuff and friend stuff. Because I never dated anyone I actually wanted to marry and I had no idea how awesome being married could be, there were plenty of ways to stay busy. Truthfully, I didn't really know what I was missing.

Now I know.

If I'm ever in a situation where I have to pick a campfire to sit by, I'm sitting with the guy who said "Ignorance is Bliss".

Genetic Perfection

2009-09-08T11:25:00.001-07:00

Moments

2009-09-07T04:00:00.000-07:00

I read somewhere that a moment is defined as a significant period of time lasting approximately 90 seconds. Life is defined by these significant periods of time, these moments. The moment you know you love someone more than you've ever loved anyone else...the moment you look into a new baby's eyes for the first time but you feel like you've seen them before...the moment you realize for sure what you're destined to do in this life...the moment the sun hits the horizon in the most spectacular sunset imaginable...the moment your life changes and it will never, ever be the same...moments.

Recently I visited with some old friends. The conversation turned to the day Matt died and one of my friends mentioned that looking back on it, the day must be a blur. You'd think...but it isn't. It was one year ago today and I remember every tiny detail.

Matt began traveling regularly (and by "regularly" I mean he was out of town more than he was in town) when I was pregnant with our first baby. I always felt down in my gut that something would happen to him on one of these trips. I remember several times he would come home late at night after hours or days of driving and flying and I would breathe a sigh of relief and think to myself "not this trip." We'd have long talks about my feelings and every time he would tell me that nothing was going to happen. "How do you know?" I would ask. "I just know," he would answer. And I believed him...mostly.

The moment I saw the Highway Patrol officer standing on my doorstep I just knew. It sounds cliche, right? Because that's exactly how it happens in the movies--hours after the loved one should have returned home there's a knock at the door. It's a Highway Patrol officer. He introduces himself before he asks to come in and sit down. He says something along the lines of "I'm sorry to have to tell you that there's been an accident..." I remember with excruciating clarity exactly how I felt at that moment. I've only felt that way once before...

When I was in high school I went to Mexico as part of a student exchange. An insanely high fever and some other issues that I don't blog about landed me in a hospital there. I remember the commotion going on, a little boy screaming his head off behind the curtain next to me and then out of nowhere someone stabbed my shoulder with an enormous needle and pumped into my body what felt like acid. It burned through every vein in my body like wildfire in a forest. When the burning stopped, the fever was gone too and I was left with the most bizarre feeling of emptiness...

After the officer left I called my parents. I could hardly catch my breath and when my dad answered the phone all I could get out was "Matt's dead." As soon as those words passed my lips I knew I had said them before...in another time, in another place, in another lifetime perhaps...but those exact words in that exact way.

I've said many times over the last year, "We don't get to choose our trials." But what if we do? What if there is a time in our premortal existence...a moment...when we are gathered around a huge pile of trials and challenges and obstacles and we point to part of the pile and we say "Give that to me. I can take it."

What if Matt and I agreed that we'd rather be together for just a brief time on this earth than not be together at all? What if I looked ahead at my life at all I would have gained and learned and experienced and I decided it was worth the heartache and pain? What if I chose this?

Adding to the List

2009-08-31T20:34:00.001-07:00

Seth's allergy to all things dairy has been well documented. Now that I'm a diligent food label reader, I am amazed at all the foods that contain some form of milk. Seth is tired of baby food, but the milk thing really limits what I can give him. Tonight I thought we'd give scrambled eggs a try...

Guess we won't be trying those again anytime soon. I think I'm going to buy stock in the company that makes Benadryl...

A Word to the Wise

2009-08-27T12:37:00.000-07:00

Warning: The following post contains an expletive. But it's necessary for the artistic integrity of the piece and it's really not any worse than your grandpa would say. If you can't handle it, don't read it.

I recently went with a friend to see the movie Julie and Julia. Of course I thought it would be good or I wouldn't have gone to see it. But it was really funny, which I wasn't expecting. There was a scene in the movie that struck a chord in me, so much so that I immediately took out my phone and put it in a note.

The character Julie is attempting to cook and blog her way through Julia Child's famous cookbook. When it comes time for the lobster dish, Julie whines and complains about having to kill a lobster. However will she manage... Her faithful readers offer support and encouragement for her plight, except for one. One reader, tired of the whining and complaining, simply comments, "Man up. Kill the damn lobster."

If ever I begin embroidering throw pillows, right next to the one that says "Life can't completely unsuck all in one day" will be one that shares Julie's reader's sentiments: "Man up. Kill the damn lobster."

Several months ago a friend of mine texted me in the middle of church. That's not her normal M.O., that's just how irate she was. A woman in her congregation was bearing testimony of her absolute knowledge that nothing bad will ever happen to her, and if something bad ever starts to happen to her, God will come down and stop it. Are you kidding me?!

I just spent an hour getting caught up on returning facebook messages from people I've lost contact with over the years. Guess what?! Bad stuff happens to everyone. At some point in every life there will come a moment, or a time, or a season that will knock you flat on your butt. But when the shock has passed and you get your land legs back, don't forget to man up and kill the damn lobster.

Life with Hunter

2009-08-23T10:55:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I find myself wondering if Hunter is coming or going. Sometimes I think he might be wondering himself. His pants are always on backwards, his shirts are often inside out, or backwards, or both...

It's a battle I choose not to fight. I ask him to get dressed, he does, and we're good.

One thing I love about Hunter: he is always good for a laugh. At the track the other night, we were sitting on bleachers right above an ant hill. Hunter was fascinated by the frenzy in which they moved around. "I fink dey're hungry and dey can't find the frigerator."

Then, the next morning, he came into my room almost before the sun was up. Hunter: "You have crazy hair!" Me: "I do?" Hunter: "Yes, it's from your bed."

And just now, the prompting for the post. He was throwing a teddy bear around in the kitchen. I have a pretty strict no toys in the kitchen policy, so I reminded him: "Please don't throw that in the kitchen." Hunter: "I wasn't. I was catching it in the kitchen."

Backyard Update

2009-08-19T10:42:00.000-07:00

Not a very interesting post I'm afraid, but so many of you have asked about the progress of the backyard that I thought I better post some more recent pics.

The pool as of 5 minutes ago: The plumbers are coming back sometime today to install a pop up jet on the baja step so the little littles have a fountain to play in, then I think we'll be ready for some shotcrete in the next day or so.

Though it's not really recognizable at this stage, this is the splash pad:

It took forever and completely blows the budget, but I have finally chosen the pool finishes. The white-ish paver surrounds the pool and is also the coping for the edge of the pool. The stacked slate goes on the columns on the back wall of the pool. Both materials will also be used to build the fire pit and bench on the other side of the yard. (The whole area has to be balanced or I'll twitch.) The blue and silver tile is for the waterline and will also be on the back wall around the columns. The silver will be tied in with stainless steel fire and water pots on top of each of the three columns on the back wall of the pool. Haha. Clear as mud?! I am sure the picture in your head exactly matches the one in mine...

You're going to need to see it when the sun hits it. It's beautiful. I'm keeping my fingers crossed to have it all done by Labor Day. I'm just about out of surfaces to decorate and areas to remodel...now what?

More Cookies

2009-08-16T21:10:00.000-07:00

This is for Lisa, who thinks she's going to gain 10 lbs. from reading my blog and whose birthday is today...

At my house (that's English for "chez Bren") we take cookie making very seriously. You may have assumed this already just based on the number of chocolate chip cookie variations I've posted. I'm not worried; I think we're still pretty far from obsession status.

I don't ever really feel like I need an excuse for baking. It's therapeutic in a lot of ways, maybe that's why I do it so often. $10 worth of ingredients and a blog post are way cheaper than a therapy session. So off we go...

Caramel Chocolate Chip Cookies

3/4 c. butter flavored Crisco

1 1/4 c. firmly packed brown sugar

2 Tbs. milk

1 Tbs. pure vanilla

1 large egg

1 3/4 c. flour

1 tsp. salt

3/4 tsp. baking soda

1 c. milk chocolate chips

1 c. semi sweet chocolate chips

1 c. caramel bits

Combine shortening, brown sugar, milk and vanilla until well mixed. Add egg. Stir in all dry ingredients followed by the really yummy stuff. Bake at 375 degrees for 8-10 minutes.

Now it must be said that the key to baking as therapy is that you absolutely must give away at least half of what you bake. Otherwise you just create a whole new set of problems. This evening Brigham took a plate of cookies to our friend's house and, after serenading her with a Christmas carol, gave her some pretty crucial parting instructions:

"They've got caramel in them, so don't eat them with your dentures in."

So subtle, that boy.

He Likes Me! He Really Likes Me!

2009-08-11T10:44:00.000-07:00

Brigham is my most difficult child, so when he's in a good mood we all celebrate. It's like Mardi Gras. Only we keep our shirts on...and we don't get drunk...and no one's looking for plastic babies in their cake...I guess it's really nothing like Mardi Gras.

Sunday morning caught Brigham in a good mood I guess. He decided, out of the blue, to make me breakfast in bed at 6:00 in the morning. I swear he didn't get this meal plan from me:

That's bread with peanut butter and peanut butter M&Ms, and a Milano cookie on the side. The real breakfast of champions...

Needing some time to clear my mouth of all the peanut butter, I offered him a bite. As he chewed his culinary masterpiece he said, "Wow. I'm a pretty good cook!"

Peace

2009-08-09T22:16:00.000-07:00

I have a heavy heart. I wish that was a self-deprecating fat joke, but it isn't. I've been thinking for a little while now, off and on, about all the pain there is in the world and about how, for whatever reason, God lets us feel it.

A friend of mine lost his baby girl last week. Just a couple of weeks away from her due date, his wife was in an accident and their baby died. She is their first child. I've thought so many times this week about the stages of grief, about where they are in the process right now. Another friend learned this week that in a matter of months she will lose her mom to cancer. She, too, is just beginning the process.

There is no part of grief that feels good, but I remember the awfulness of those early days and weeks and months so clearly. I remember being shocked to discover that the pain of losing a loved one is actually a physical pain. It settles right in the cavity of the chest where the heart once was and seems to penetrate deeper and deeper into the soul with every inward breath. It is an almost constant companion, an appendage like an arm or a leg, only it has no life of its own. It exists like a parasite to its host.

I think it's human nature to look for the hidden meaning in things, the lesson to be learned. I've decided that I don't think there always is one. Some things just are. Unless the meaning to be had or the lesson to be learned is just to find peace in suffering.

I have a pristine refrigerator. Bold statement, no? I'm talking strictly about the outside of it, not so much the inside. I used to love refrigerator magnets. The quirkier the better, and if I could write poetry with them, that was all the better. But as my life has become more complicated, my fridge has become less so. Only two magnets have survived my discriminating cut-backs over the years, and even those are tucked around the side. One is inconsequential for this post, but the other says this:

peace. it does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble or hard work. it means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart.

Hot Rod

2009-08-07T09:07:00.000-07:00

Remember that one time I took my kids camping in an alligator bayou even though I really don't love camping? Or alligators? Or the possibility of being eaten alive by one at night as I dream? I did that because I love my kids and I don't want them to have a lame childhood because they're stuck with just a mom. For that same reason, I now hang out for hours on end outside in 115 degree weather two days a week...Brigham has a new hobby and he's totally excited about it.

We are now a BMX family...That's Brigham at the starting gate, 2nd from the left.

Puttering around the track like an old man in his garden...The track looks empty because all the other riders are in front of Brigham...

Look at the size of that noggin!

And what's underneath that massive helmet when it's 115 degrees at 7 pm...

As I watched all the action I noticed that Brigham got a pretty decent start out of the gate, but then he'd just kind of drift around the track like he was on a Sunday drive. "You know, honey" I said, "the whole point of racing is to get around the track as fast as possible." I kid you not, this was actually news to him. "It is?!" He was shocked. "What if I just like to ride around?!" Hope I didn't ruin it for him.

Status Report

2009-08-03T19:56:00.001-07:00

As promised, by the end of the work day today we have an enormous hole in our backyard.

This was the scene out back by midday:

And end of day:

I'll spare you more backyard pics for a couple of days. No more work is scheduled on it until Wednesday.

Not Your Typical Before and After

2009-08-01T16:24:00.000-07:00

How long has it been since the last time I fell out of love with my blog? It happened again...oh well.

I've been working on kid stuff and house stuff and yard stuff. Now that I have finally stopped redesigning the pool and surrounding area (my contractor says he doesn't hate me...), we are getting started! I have some atypical before and after pics. A normal person would look at these and think I loaded them in the wrong order, but no.

BEFORE:

AFTER:

How fun is that?! Not a single blade of grass left! The back yard has been completely demolished and I couldn't be happier about it. Except for this:

This is what you find in your laundry room when heavy machinery is ripping out your back yard. By the end of the day on Monday we should be the proud owners of an enormous hole, and probably more nasty scorpions... my bug guy Jon has already been put on notice.

Room for One More?

2009-07-21T14:30:00.000-07:00

I found myself wondering earlier how many chocolate chip cookie recipes there have been in the history of the world. It's a confectionery mainstay, so I'm sure there are thousands. Is there room for one more? I adapted this one slightly from The Picky Palate.

Categorically I do not like white chocolate. It's impostor chocolate. But I think even white chocolate has a place...and it's right in the middle of these gooey chocolate chunk cookies.

2 sticks softened butter

3/4 c. white sugar

3/4 c. packed light brown sugar

2 eggs

1 Tbs. pure vanilla extract

2 1/2 c. flour

1 tsp. baking soda

1/2 tsp. salt

2 large symphony bars chopped into chunks

1 c. semi sweet chocolate chips

1 c. white chocolate chips

Beat butter and sugars until light and fluffy. Add eggs and vanilla. Mix in dry ingredients. Fold in the chocolate. Bake in a 350 degree oven for about 11 minutes.

The Plan

2009-07-15T15:50:00.001-07:00

Warning: The following post contains more pictures of Seth. You will not cry unless you're my mother.

I know Halloween is more than 3 months away, but this time last year I already had Seth's costume planned out and partially in-hand. "You know what month this is right?" Matt asked. Seth wasn't even born at the time, but whatev. I absolutely love clever baby costumes. Once the kid is older I don't so much care how awesome their Halloween costumes are, but there's just something about a really great baby costume that excites me. I obsess.

Soak up the following Seth pictures and let's see where your mind takes you. Then I'll tell you where mine took me.

I'm assuming he'll have a little more chub and a little more hair by the end of October. This costume is going to be easy and hilarious. I've already started searching out all the necessary components. Do you want to know the plan?

Wait for it...

If there is a sudden influx of infant Nacho Libres this Halloween, this is my proof that I thought of it first.

The End of the World As We Know It

2009-07-14T10:17:00.001-07:00

A friend of mine has asked me to implement some kind of warning system on my blog. She wants to know before she starts reading whether or not she's going to cry. If it can be worked into the system, she'd also like to be warned how much she's going to cry. While I have yet to actually engineer the system, I want to state for the record that this post will not make anyone cry. Unless you're weird and in that case I can't help you.

We have reached another milestone. We have arrived at that place.

My cupboards are no longer safe.

Seth is relishing his new-found ability to pillage. I'm not. I'm really not a fan of those child proof hook things. Of course they're necessary on the cupboard with the cleaning products, but on the others they're just annoying. I guess we'll just have to see how quickly he moves on to a new trick.

p.s. Check out the biceps coming out of that muscle shirt! Okay, it's really just fat. But it's cute nonetheless. When I make my own world, I'm going to make fat on a 33 year old just as cute.

p.p.s. No, I am not going to wash all that stuff before I put it back in the cupboard. Turns out, flying solo with three little boys almost completely cures OCD.

How's That Again?

2009-07-11T20:48:00.000-07:00

Tonight Brigham tenderly informed me that he loves me even when I yell at him. I reminded him that I only yell at him when he's being naughty and making bad choices. "But Mom," he protested, "That's just the way the world is!"

Therapy

2009-07-07T08:47:00.000-07:00

This is not a cry for help or an invitation to a pity party, it's just a peek into another aspect of my life. No cause for alarm, it's par for the course. I might delete this particular session once I have it written; we'll just have to see how it goes...That said, lately I have been mourning my attractiveness.

Yesterday I was unpacking yet another box and I found the huge stack of cards and letters that were sent to me when Matt died. I flipped through a few and found one in particular that hit me all over again. It was a short note from a girl Matt and I went to church with when we were dating and engaged. She wrote:

"I got word of your loss some weeks ago...and have thought of you often since. I remember a time when I taught you and Matt was waiting for you. I was going to rush through the lesson so he wouldn't have to wait long, but you said something that caused me to melt inside. You said, 'Don't worry, he would wait forever if he had to.' You didn't even bat an eye when you said those words-I thought for a moment, 'What would it be like to feel such love.' "

I started thinking about this even before I found that note. As a woman, there is an enormous amount of power that comes from knowing someone loves you that much. I think about the affect women have on men. I believe the old adage that behind every good man is a good woman. That doesn't mean women are 2nd rate citizens, it just means that for the most part, every successful, driven, happy man has a good woman loving him and supporting him and cheering him on. Guys, I'm sure you would agree that there is nothing in the world like the love of an awesome woman.

Matt died 10 months ago today. I am reminded constantly that there isn't a soul on the planet who feels that way about me anymore and I really, really miss it. It's like I've lost my super powers. No one is excited to come home from work at night because I'm there. No one's eyes light up because I call them just to say I'm thinking about what an incredible person they are. No one feels a little less stressed during their busy day because they know I'm at home, holding down the fort, believing they can do anything they put their mind to.

Well, maybe Hunter does. The other day he did something pretty cool and I said "Dude! You're a rockstar!"

"I am a rockstar!" he confidently exclaimed.

Slaying Spiders

2009-07-02T11:08:00.000-07:00

I do not love my newly acquired responsibility of slaying my own spiders. At all. Not even a little. I cannot tolerate spiders in any way, shape or form. In the next life God and I are going to have a pretty serious sit-down conversation about a thing or two; spiders are on the list. Don't even get me started on the ridiculousness of those spider freaks who actually take them back outside when they find them indoors, instead of just smashing them. Sorry siblings, but they are hardly endangered creatures and if they are in my house, they are uninvited intruders. Those get smashed 'round these parts. Anyway...

So I was just moments ago moving some framed pictures to another part of the house. When I lifted the very last one away from the wall I was horrified to see an enormous spider lurking where the picture had just been. Oh the dilemma I was faced with...smash it with a paper towel or suck it up with the vacuum perched mere inches away...

Right now it must be said that I really enjoy vacuuming. I respect my vacuum. In a matter of a nano second beautiful images of me twirling with my vacuum in a field of wild flowers flooded my mind--only to be disparaged by a monstrous spider climbing out of the vacuum hose and devouring me right in front of the frolicking bunnies and doves. Clearly the situation would have to be remedied with a paper towel...

I dashed to the kitchen for supplies and ran back to the dining room before the nasty thing could eat my baby, pouncing on it with my wad of paper towels like only a mother defending her young would do. A blood curdling scream escaped my lips as the spider tried to run for safety, leaving two of its legs behind. The legs.kept.moving.

Turns out that a blood curdling scream is one of the few sounds that will startle 7 and 4 year old boys from a video game daze. Of course they wanted to know what the commotion was all about. When I got to the part about the spider's legs moving without their formerly attached body, Hunter burst into little-boy-turned-mad-scientist laughter. "That's really creepy...and funny!"

A new spider slayer in the making?

1st Favorite Face

2009-06-30T00:01:00.000-07:00

I don't get enough credit for the adorableness of this face. From the time he was born, everyone has always said "He looks just like his dad."

Truth is, he looks a lot like I did when I was a kid. Same coloring, same eyes, same freckles.

His personality is a lot like mine too. He's...uptight. Detailed. Obsessive about schedules and plans. I've learned to mellow, though, and Brigham is just getting started. He is also sweet, and funny, and smart, and sensitive...he is my little thinker. In fact, in the car last week he brought up one of our family themes. Hunter said something blonde (no offense), as he often does, and Brigham said "Every family needs a cheerleader." He continued, referring to himself, "And every family needs a thinker, too. Right, mom?" "Absolutely. So what am I in this family?" I asked. Brave, huh? To ask my kids what their interpretation of my role in the family is? "Every family needs a lovable mom," he wisely replied.

I have to love him for that--and so much more!

I love that impish grin. Brigham is my 1st favorite face. Hard to believe he is 7 today!

It's About The Climb

2009-06-25T07:46:00.000-07:00

You may have noticed by now that I am a sucker for cheesy life-isn't-so-bad song lyrics. One of my current faves (I'm almost embarrassed to admit it, almost.) is Miley Cyrus' new song:

The Climb

I can almost see it. That dream I'm dreaming, but There's a voice inside my head saying You'll never reach it Every step I'm takin' Every move I make Feels lost with no direction, My faith is shakin' But I gotta keep tryin' Gotta keep my head held high

There's always gonna be another mountain I'm always gonna wanna make it move Always gonna be an uphill battle Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose Ain't about how fast I get there Ain't about what's waitin' on the other side. It's the climb

The struggles I'm facing The chances I'm taking Sometimes might knock me down, but No I'm not breaking I may not know it, but These are the moments that I'm gonna remember most I've just gotta keep goin', and I gotta be strong Just keep pushing on, but

Personal thought: I don't think life has much to do with where you start or where you end up. It's about how we handle the climb. We are all fully capable of handling whatever life throws at us, we just get lazy and unfocused sometimes.

Thomas Edison said, "If we did all the things we are capable of doing, we would literally astound ourselves." I got that off the calendar in my sister's bedroom and I love it! Can you imagine waking up in the morning and astounding yourself? God gave each of us the capacity to deal. More than that--He gave us the capacity to thrive. And when we allow ourselves to be hysterical when life gives us challenges, or we can't get out of bed in the morning because we think we've got it so bad, or we turn everything into a personal drama that we believe outweighs anyone else's struggles, we are giving Satan a foothold in our lives and throwing in God's face the abilities He has blessed us all with.

Did you expect me to be so churchy today? I sure didn't, but it's my blog and I can say whatever I want ;) . So get up in the morning and astound yourself. And join us next week when we will draw inspiration from the words of the Vanilla Ice classic "Ice Ice Baby".

Not really. But really, it's about the climb.

You Asked For It

2009-06-23T08:13:00.001-07:00

I've been getting requests for pictures of the finished fireplace. To refresh your memory, this is the before...

I can't take pictures of entire rooms yet because my shutters aren't in. I still wouldn't call the fireplace completely finished, because I've got some spots to fill in on the mantle, (I need some greenery on the right and another chunky candlestick on the left) but here it is now...

I love it! I mean I really love it. Every time I see it, without fail, I think "Dang that's a beautiful fireplace." And then I think, "Maybe I should go to design school..." Lol. I wish I could take all the credit, but I should give props to my remodeling guru Frankie for the install and my neighbor Sean for the amazing mantle. You can't tell from my pics, but the mantle is stained to match the floor.

I've been wondering lately how to combine elements of design with elements of family therapy so I can dabble in both worlds. Environment has such a huge impact on our feelings and abilities to manage life and cope with struggles. I think everyone needs at least one spot in their homes that makes them breathe a sigh of relief instead of an exasperated sigh. What's that spot for you? If you don't have one, let me know. I'll work one up for you ;) .

Father's Day

2009-06-21T07:09:00.000-07:00

I took the boys to the cemetery yesterday to visit Matt's grave for Father's Day. We spread out a blanket and talked until our backs were too hot to sit there any longer. I asked Brigham what one of his favorite memories of his dad is. He said, "Once when you were gone, Dad gave me 8 Oreos. I pulled them apart so I would have 16." MUST have been while I was gone! EIGHT Oreos?!

As we talked I was struck by the thought that my kids will think going to the cemetery for Father's Day is just as normal as other kids think it is to buy their dads a new tie for Father's Day.

If I had to choose for my children between memories of a great dad and the reality of a crappy one, I'd choose memories of a great dad. Matt was a great dad.

P.S.

2009-06-19T20:47:00.000-07:00

About the frosting...I forgot to mention that if you spray your tablespoon with cooking spray before you pour the corn syrup in it, the corn syrup will just slip right out without being a sticky mess. You don't need to spray it for each spoonful, just spray it before the first.

To My Health Challenge Cohorts

2009-06-18T17:55:00.000-07:00

There comes a time in every girl's life when she has to learn to stand up for herself...a time when a girl has to learn that her own needs matter...that she doesn't need to stick with the status quo if it just doesn't work for her...that sometimes it's okay to take the road less travelled...or the road travelled most, whichever the case may be...

I am so tired of trying to follow all the oppressive rules of the health challenge. Okay, yes, I am tremendously grateful for the eight pounds I have recently lost, and I have no intention of finding them again, but enough already! I am taking a break dangit...big time.

Behold, I give you the Chocolate Frosted Brownie.

Yes, I fell off the wagon today. More than that really. I fell off the wagon and pulled the whole dang wagon down on top of myself.

The brownie part is pretty insignificant really. It is merely the mode of transportation for the frosting. The frosting is the focal point. Dreamy. Divine even. (And I don't use that word loosely.) It's delightful on cardboard.

Lesli's Chocolate Frosting

1 and 1/4 sticks unsalted butter

1 and 1/2 tsp. vanilla

1/4 cup plus 2 Tbs. cocoa

3 Tbs. corn syrup

1/2 cup heavy whipping cream

3 cups powdered sugar

Beat butter til light and fluffy, which works best if the butter is softened or at room temp. Add vanilla, cocoa, corn syrup and whipping cream until smooth. Gradually add powdered sugar. Stir constantly until spreading consistency. Add more cream if needed.

Now, if you'll excuse me, my french fries are getting cold and I believe my fully loaded Dr. Pepper is sufficiently chilled...

The Light at the End of the Tunnel

2009-06-14T22:57:00.000-07:00

I haven't been ignoring your requests for house pictures, I just feel like I want everything completely done and amazing looking before I post pictures. It will be awhile longer before we are to the "amazing looking" stage, so I'm giving in a little. I've been trying to get a picture of the chandelier in my powder room that adequately showcases it's awesomeness, but it eludes me. If I take a picture with the light on, all I get are black images with faint spots of light. If I take pictures with the light off, I lose the wow factor of the light fixture. I went on the company's website hoping to get a good picture of it there, but it just didn't do it justice. So this will have to do...

I wish I could convincingly describe how much more fabulous it is in person with the bulbs illuminated...*sigh*

With the blue, purple and amber crystals all aglow, can you imagine what a delightful light this would be to potty under? Now what to do with the rest of the room...chrome frames and black and white damask fabric is where I'm headed I think. I'm shooting for glam--something just this close to over the top. Some friends were over the other day and the guy went in to use the facilities. When he came out he said, "You know that's a bathroom, right?" No, silly...it's a powder room...

One Man's Trash is Another Man's Treasure

2009-06-10T23:10:00.000-07:00

Brigham was a soy baby. When he finally started drinking regular cow's milk he thought the taste of it was absolutely horrible. To take the edge off it I started mixing in a little Ovaltine. He would have a cup in the morning (which he cleverly dubbed "good morning chocolate milk") and a cup before bed ("bedtime chocolate milk"). 6 years into the routine neither of my older two children can wake up in the morning or wind down at night without their chocolate milk. It makes them happy...

This morning, sadly, one of those little cherubs left their good morning chocolate milk within Seth's eager reach. It does not have the same euphoric effect on him...

My poor baby broke out everywhere the milk came in contact with his skin--all over his face, neck, hands and wrists. He was red and puffy and itchy. This picture actually looks a little better than he really looked. He couldn't stop scratching and cried miserably until...

...the antihistamine, cool wet cloth and hydrocortisone cream started to kick in. Sitting at the kitchen table he could hardly keep his eyes open. Finally he slipped into a 3 hour Benadryl coma...

And woke up happy once again...

My 2nd Favorite Face

2009-06-08T09:37:00.000-07:00

We are a fully functioning household...We have furniture, food (I have already thrown out the first round of yucky leftovers from the fridge), cable, phones and internet! The cable lady's assurance that she "knew people" did absolutely nothing to speed up our installation, but it works just the same.

Today is all about Hunter, my 2nd favorite face. Let me clarify: Hunter is my 2nd favorite face, not to be confused with being my 2nd favorite face. Can you smell what I'm stepping in here? (That's a disgusting throw-back to my Oklahoma heritage.)

There is just something about this face that makes me happy, even at 5:30 in the morning when I wake up to it just an inch away from my own face.

Call me a freak if you want to, but I think it's the lines under his eyes and his flat nose. I LOVE THEM!

My sister-in-law's sister thinks he looks like James McAvoy. It's probably the adorable smile and the crystal blue eyes. I'm not playing favorites with today's post. Hunter gets it because he is 4 years old today.

Out of the Loop

2009-05-31T18:25:00.000-07:00

Okay, I've been MIA. I planned to have some posts done and scheduled to post this week so you wouldn't even know I'm gone, but it didn't happen. I've been without a computer for a week now and I'll be without a computer for probably another week. I don't know, we'll see. The lady at the cable company when I set up our service got a kick out of me and says she "knows people" *wink wink* who could speed up the process .

When I return to blogland I will hopefully have tons of pics for your viewing pleasure. To whet your appetite, the fireplace IS even more fabulous in person...and don't even get me started on the chandelier in my powder room... ;)

Art in the Making

2009-05-23T06:00:00.000-07:00

I'll keep this short and sweet to make up for my last somewhat rambling post. It's not done yet, but can you guess what this is? Look back at the first fireplace post if you need to see the before picture again.

Say it, it's fabulous.

Stand

2009-05-21T07:00:00.000-07:00

I got in the car a little while ago to run an errand. When the stereo came on, the song it played brought a flood of images across my mind...

Some background--

Around this time last year Matt made the decision (and I supported him, it wasn't tyranny) to move our family to LA at the beginning of this year. He was working more and more in the indie film industry and he wanted to do even more, but didn't want to be away from the family. He had talked about it a couple of times before, but I hated the idea. So while I never said I wouldn't, I didn't encourage the idea either. Up until last summer it had always fizzled out, but this time it was for sure.

I don't know if it was paranoia or women's intuition or inspiration or what, but I felt so strongly that living in LA would be the absolute worst thing for our family. I wanted Matt to have every opportunity to achieve all his goals and ambitions but I knew down in my core that it would come at a cost.

Fast forward to the day before Matt died--

It was a hot, sunny Saturday morning and I was in the pool with Brigham and Hunter. My friend Shandolynne called and we visited for awhile. She was telling me about this amazing Texas Sheet Cake recipe on the blog of a woman she went to church with, which lead to a conversation about the woman herself, new friend Becky, actually. She is not more than 2 years older than we are, has 7 kids, and her husband was dying from cancer.

After we got out of the pool, I went to her blog to check out the recipe. The song on her playlist at that very moment was Rascall Flatts' "Stand".

Cause when push comes to shove you taste what you're made of

You might bend til you break cause it's all you can take

On your knees you look up decide you've had enough

You get mad, you get strong, wipe your hands, shake it off

Then you stand.

I remember feeling so humbled hearing that song. I thought it would be my anthem as I survived what would surely be the greatest challenge of my life...moving my family to LA and dealing with results of that. I took courage from those lyrics, knowing that I could handle whatever came my way if I just remembered to stop fighting it and let it make me stronger.

And now back to today...

Isn't it shocking how quickly life can change? I have moments all the time when I feel the breath knocked out of me a little bit when I'm caught off guard by that reality . I've played that song so many times since that Saturday, but hearing it today was different for some reason.

Life's like a novel with the end ripped out

The edge of a canyon with only one way down

Take what you're given before it's gone

And start holdin' on, keep holdin' on

Every time you get up and get back in the race

One more small piece of you starts to fall into place

Then you stand

It's still powerful. But today it made me think that I want a do-over. I want the old challenge.

Don't Read This Post if You Have Issues With Feet

2009-05-20T09:04:00.000-07:00

Brigham has gnarly toenails. Seriously gnarly toenails. I have intentions of clipping them more often, but he makes such a big deal of it that I usually leave them alone rather than fight with him over it.

This morning when I looked at them I decided that not only was it worth a fight, my ability to think of myself as a good mom hinged on clipping these toenails TODAY. I'm wishing I took a before picture, but for your sakes it's good that I didn't.

I took Brigham outside for the clipping so I wouldn't have to clean up the residue. He made it half way through the job before the agony of it all became too much for him. "Could I at least have a sleeping pill for this?!"

Re-runs (The Good Kind)

2009-05-14T14:41:00.001-07:00

One of my favorite things about having all boys is that I get to see their adorable clothes on more than one kid. I was going through a bin of clothes the other day and was so sad when I pulled this one out. It was one of my favorites on Brigham and Hunter, but for Seth to get much use out of it he should have been wearing it two months ago. It fit Brigham and Hunter like a romper. It fits Seth like an old-fashioned swimming suit. Even though I knew it would be snug, I had to get it on him at least once...

When Hunter saw Seth squirming around the house in this outfit he said, "He wooks wike a ant." I guess because of the knots sticking up on either side of the hat?

Seth's grandma thinks he was sad because his mom made him wear a ridiculous hat, but he had the same expression on his face when the hat came off.

Sorry the pictures are kinda dark. I hear there's software out there that can fix these things. Maybe one of these days I'll check it out. For now, you get dark pictures. At least the kid is cute.

A Little Healthy Competition

2009-05-13T09:21:00.000-07:00

Seth was a really big baby. Larger than my previous two, and I gained 20 pounds less with him than I did with the other two. Sounds hopeful, no? Pretty much within 2 weeks of his birth I was back to my pre-Seth weight. Don't even bother trying to hate me over that because I still have 25 pounds hanging around after my pregnancy with Hunter and 20 more from Brigham.

Not pretty. So...

6 weeks after Seth was born I started doing the treadmill 6 days a week, along with 100 crunches and a serious number of push ups. I think I should be hot by now. But Seth just turned 7 months old and I have not lost a single pound in all that time. (DON'T even think about putting in the comment section that I'm gaining muscle, because I SO DO NOT CARE WHAT IT IS AS LONG AS THAT NUMBER ON THE SCALE STAYS THE SAME!) I'm thinking it's time to kick it up a notch. A friend of a friend is holding a little competition.

Here are the specs from her blog:

****
Feeling sluggish? Fat? Dreading swimsuit season? Want to be healthier? Let’s work together, motivate each other, and have a little competition! I just finished a similar competition and loved it so much that I had to start this one so I could continue on a healthy path. It’s great motivation! Not only because you could win money, but you have to report your points weekly for everyone to see! You don’t want to look like a bum!

Here’s how it works: All contestants will need to donate $20 bucks to the pot to be involved. There are 10 points to be earned each day, Monday through Saturday. Sunday is a free day, with no exceptions. The total you can earn in a week is 60 points. All points are to be emailed to Mariel every Sunday and they will be posted by Monday on a blog (made specifically for this competition). For every day after Sunday that you send in your points, you will lose a point. So, make sure you email them over on Sunday!

Here is a breakdown of the points:
No Sugar – 1 point
No Unhealthy Snacks – 1 point
Healthy & Correctly Portioned Breakfast – 1 point
Healthy & Correctly Portioned Lunch – 1 point
Healthy & Correctly Portioned Dinner – 1 point
Take Multi-Vitamin – 1 point
No Food After 8:30 p.m. – 1 point
Exercise 45 minutes – 2 points
Drink 64 oz. Fluid (No Sugar!) – 1 point
Total = 10 points daily

You will also have 10 bonus points that can be used throughout the competition for those days where you are really struggling. You will need to report any bonus points used in your Sunday email. Any unused points will be added to your final score at the end!

There will be a 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place winner. The first prize winner will get 50% of the money, 2nd place will get 30 %, and 3rd will get 20%. Everyone will get a healthier/sexier body!
The competition will start May 24th and will run for 10 weeks until August 1st. All money is due by May 20th. You can mail your payment to:

(if you want the info, leave a comment w/your email or some contact info and I'll give it to you.)

The blog I will set up is a place that everyone will be able to post to. Not only will you see everyone’s points posted there, but you can offer some suggestions on things working for you, recipes you love, motivating, thoughts, questions for the contestants, etc.
****

My sister Ami and I are in and we would love to have you join in too so we can take

your money when we win.

I've Trained Him Well

2009-05-09T21:12:00.001-07:00

A friend of mine is homeschooling Brigham for me while we are in limbo for a bit longer. Yesterday during school, my friend's husband called her and asked what she would like for Mother's Day. After she got off the phone, one of her kids said, "He's probably going to get you a Target gift card." She goes there a lot, so it must be her favorite store, right? Then he turned to Brigham and asked "What's your mom's favorite store?" He didn't even hesitate. "Jared," he replied. That's my boy!

The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From the Tree

2009-05-07T18:24:00.000-07:00

It has been 8 months today since Matt died. Because our boys are all young, I've thought a lot about how to preserve their memories of their dad. Since Seth won't have any, I am especially concerned about him having a link to his father.

When Seth was just 5 days old, a dear friend of mine sent a photographer, Maggie Holmes, to our home for a photo shoot. When she asked if there was anything specific I was looking for, I asked her to take a picture of Seth on Matt's piano bench.

Still today the sweetness of that moment brings tears to my eyes. We have pictures of Brigham playing the piano with his dad, and Hunter playing the piano with his dad. But for Seth, the best I could do was this image of his exquisitely beautiful five-day-old self with the motionless keys of his dad's piano in the background.

Today, almost 7 months after that picture was taken, I put Seth back on a piano bench. The image is hugely different! It's kind of long, because I don't know how to edit, so don't feel bad if you skip some of it.

I don't know if Seth has been blessed with Matt's musical ability or if he's just a jolly baby in front of a really noisy toy. I do know he was really upset when I took him away from it. Here's hoping the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Sad News

2009-05-06T19:50:00.000-07:00

My remodeling guru called. The stacked rock wall is not an option. Apparently because the opening to the right of my fireplace is a hallway, there is no way to finish off the rock without it protruding unattractively and menacingly into the wide open. Having 3 rambunctious little boys who would surely crack their heads open on it, we can't have menacing rock corners. So we are a no go for stacked rock.

But never fear! The Great Fireplace Debate of '09 has come to a resolution! I have ignored all of your counsel in favor of something fabulously dramatic, but I'm not going to tell you what because I'm afraid there may be an uprising of my readership. All you need to know, for now, is that it will look awesome. Don't think this doesn't mean that I don't appreciate your input (too many negatives in that phrase?), because of course I do. But I have a vision...and it is stunning...

The Hearth of the Home

2009-05-05T07:13:00.000-07:00

My laptop has crashed...again...total blue screen, which I hear is bad...again. This has seriously stifled my ability to blog since almost all my photos are on my laptop. I was all set for an entire post about things that make me grouchy (inspired by my laptop crashing) but I have bigger fish to fry: I have to decide what to do with my fireplace, today if at all possible. Since I got all the pictures online, my inability to use my laptop wasn't an issue for this.

This is my fireplace as it currently is. Not a great picture, but you get the idea. (This is not my furniture, BTW.)

Do you favor something conservative and pretty like this:

Or this:

Or do I go full wall dramatic like this:

Gorgeous, huh?! This last one is actually my favorite, and I think I'd like it better without the light stone right under the mantle, and I wouldn't have the hearth part in front. Imagine the walls are a perfect shade of brown-gray taupe (Glidden Soft Suede) and the floors are a rich dark brown hard wood(so dark they're almost black-they're called Black Tulip, in fact).

Care to share your opinion? If you have a pic of another fabulous fireplace, post a link in the comments please.

Scotcheroos

2009-04-29T08:54:00.000-07:00

Remember when I told you about the amazing treats my friend makes and I said that I think she tweaks the recipe a little so they never turn out as good when someone else makes them? (Shout out to Mindi.) I've been working on it and I think I've got it all figured out.

This is the original recipe:

1 cup sugar
1 cup peanut Butter
1 cup Karo syrup
5 1/2 to 6 cups Special K cereal

Stir sugar and syrup until mixture comes to a boil. Remove from heat then add peanut butter. Stir until blended. Spray 9 x 13 pan and place cereal in pan. Pour mixture over cereal and mix until well coated. Press.

Topping:
1 cup chocolate chips
1 cup butterscotch chips

Melt together and pour over bars.

Here's my translation:

1 cup of peanut butter really means 1 cup plus another dollop. 1 cup of Karo syrup really means 1 cup plus a blob more. 5 1/2 to 6 cups of cereal really means start with 5 cups and add a shake or two more of the box if it seems too gooey as you're stirring. Press means press, but don't smash it all down too hard. 1 cup of chocolate chips means milk chocolate chips, and it really means the whole bag, along with the whole bag of butterscotch chips as well.

If you follow the recipe along with my slight modifications you will end up with the most fabulous scotcheroos just like Mindi makes.

And there you go.

Truth Be Told

2009-04-28T06:00:00.000-07:00

We all know those people who feel the obligation to tell others what they think about things "because it's the truth." Never mind that it's rude, if it's the truth it's okay to say it. You know the type, right?

Sitting in the Houston airport returning from our adventure, I had everything under control. Seth was in his stroller happily drinking a bottle. Brigham and Hunter were sitting at a counter snacking on muffins and chocolate milk. I was standing between the two parties, my weight perfectly balanced on both feet so I could move either direction, if needed, in a split second. Control. A woman sat watching us from a nearby chair. Assessing my abilities to juggle all three of my littles by myself she said with a true Texas drawl, "You're a brave woman." Then after a moment, "Either that or you're stupid."

And then...

Last Saturday I was at Lowe's looking at carpet samples with Brigham and Hunter. They were being particularly obnoxious, but still the woman in the window treatment department said, "Your boys are so cute." "Wow, that's not what I've been telling them. I've been telling them how naughty they are," I replied. "I said they were cute," she responded, "I didn't say they were well-behaved."

I am not okay with these comments because they're "the truth", but I am okay with them because they're funny. I don't believe "honesty" should be an excuse to say rude things. "Humor" on the other hand...well, that's a horse of a different color...

Alligator Park

2009-04-26T20:02:00.000-07:00

You may be tempted to think that my absence from the blogging world indicates I have been incredibly busy. Not so. I have been falling out of love with my blog. It wasn't anything I did, it wasn't a transgression on my blog's part. The relationship problems between my camera and my computer have worn me down. I've tried several times to download the pictures from our Houston trip and have wasted way too much time on it. Tonight I decided to try one more time, committing that if it didn't work this time I would quit blogging forever. I guess I'm stuck with my blog for a little longer.

And now, the much anticipated alligator park. This is the welcome sign at the entrance to the park:

My littles with a baby alligator. They're all so cute!

We spent 3 days and 2 nights in the park. Those of you who know me know that this shows some serious maternal committment. I hate camping, but I made the conscious decision to go and have a great time because I have 3 little boys. I don't want them to miss out on crazy boy stuff just because they only have a mom now. This was a pretty common sight around the bayou. I wish I kept track of how many alligators we saw. At least 40:

The only thing separating the alligators and the people is common sense...probably not a big enough barrier for some people! This one looks like it's a ways away, but it was actually a 10 foot alligator only about 15 feet away. If Seth hadn't fallen asleep in the stroller I think I might have used this one for our family Christmas picture this year.

So lazy! It never so much as moved an eyelid the whole time we were taking pictures.

The family that hunts alligators together stays together! (I'm embroidering that on a pillow as we speak. Er, type. Okay, no I'm not.)

Seth's jammies say it all!

Memories and Peace

2009-04-16T19:21:00.000-07:00

Hey remember that one time when I said I would download our Houston pictures and post about the trip the next day...?

My camera and my laptop are incommunicado. Does that have two "m"s? No matter, you get the point. I have not been able to retrieve my pics yet. So you get another post sans photos.

I'm thinking that I don't post enough about Brigham. You know Seth is the Cutest Baby on the Planet. Hunter is probably the Funniest Kid on the Planet (yesterday he was watching Seth play and he said, "I almost like Baby Seth.") And Brigham is the Smartest. Yesterday Brigham went on a walk with Grandma and Seth. He bailed early on and when Grandma and Seth got back to the house, they found Brigham sitting cross-legged on the front porch, palms up, thumbs and middle fingers touching, chanting "OM" (or however you spell it).

When Grandma asked him what he was doing, he informed her that he was meditating. Meditation, after all, brings back memories and gives you peace. So says the 6-year-old anyway. Apparently, during some quality RV time on our Texas trip, one of Brigham's cousins told him if he meditated it would bring back good memories and give him peace. He's all for it, though in short spurts. After a couple more "oms" on the porch, he hopped up, said he'd had enough peace for one day and ran off to play.

On the spectrum of things learned from an older cousin, it could have been a lot worse.

And We're Back

2009-04-14T15:32:00.000-07:00

We have returned, worn out but proud of our (my) new found ability to survive traveling with my 3 kids without adult supervision. I guess anything is possible when you're awesome... ;)

So I wanted to post a little while I was gone, but I wasn't able to. Just wait until you hear why...

My brother-in-law has installed a program called "Family Safety" on his family's computers. It keeps computer users from being able to access websites that might contain questionable material. Apparently the title of my blog has raised some eyebrows down at Family Safety. "Three Little Men and Me" has been censored from their system because it sounds suggestive! LOL!

I'll download my pictures and post more about the trip tomorrow. For now I'll just leave you with a Hunterism.

A few days ago during a camping trip Hunter was engaged in a nose-picking session that just did not seem to be letting up. I know we all get a little somethin-somethin up there that has to come out, but he just wouldn't stop. Finally I told him to stop picking his nose and he said, "There's a ladybug in there and I had to go get it."

Bon Voyage

2009-04-08T06:00:00.000-07:00

This morning I am taking the boys to Houston for a week. By myself. Solo. Me and my three monsters on an airplane without any other adult support. This will be the first family vacation since Matt died. Hopefully we'll have lots of fun adventures to report along the way or when we return. Wish us (me) luck!

What Has the World Come To?

2009-04-06T16:07:00.000-07:00

The time has come for some self-reflection. Some introspection. The kind of delving into the inner workings of ones psyche that can only be done with a really big magnifying glass...

How funny is that picture? It makes me LOL out loud.

Something has happened to me in the last few days. Something that can only be described as miraculous. Up until a couple of days ago, this is what you would have found on my right ring finger at any given time:

Pretty fabulous, I know. It's made of diamonds and black diamonds and they sparkle a lot. You know how I feel about diamonds. They breathe life into my soul. I especially love this ring because in addition to the diamondness of it, the whimsical flower design makes me smile when I look at it. I wear it a lot, or at least I did. A little over a week ago my sister and I went to James Avery, a jeweler who specializes in really beautiful silver pieces. I've always thought birthstone jewelry was a little cheesy, but something about the new "Remembrance" collection appealed to me. These rings are classy, simple and stackable. I ordered one in Brigham and Hunter's birthstone (they are the same month), one in Seth's and one in Matt's. I picked them up when I got back into town this weekend and I have not taken them off since I got them. I absolutely love them. I might even like them more than my diamond flower ring.

But this begs the question: What has the world come to when I choose sentiment over diamonds?

Barf Bag Blogging

2009-04-04T09:17:00.000-07:00

Once again I left town and forgot to mention that I'd be absent for a bit. I'm sure your week was unbelievably dull without my two cents...

I am writing this post on an airplane barf bag. Classy, eh? I'm not sure what it's made out of, a stretchy plastic something. When I first started writing I was loving the boldness of my Papermate Profile pen on the crisp white bag. But now my ink keeps skipping across the surface, breaking the flow of my writing and it's kinda irritating. Oh well. Won't be the worst thing that's ever happened to me.

I like the aisle seat and I don't like to sit in small spaces next to people I don't know. Cooties. As this is my 9th flight in the last few months I have developed an almost fool-proof system for keeping the middle seat on my row vacant. It has only failed me once. I check in online the minute the clock hits 24 hours before departure-not a minute later-so I have the best chance of getting exactly the seat I want when I board. When I get on, I choose an aisle seat as close to the front of the plane as possible. The window seats fill quickly but the closer I am to the front of the plane the less likely it is that the middle seat will be taken. When other people get on, they are all still hoping for window or aisle, so they keep moving toward the back of the plane. Half way back they realize they are out of luck, but since swimming upstream feels unnatural for all but salmon, they keep going-filling the middle seats from the back first. This is no exception. I'm sitting in an aisle seat, someone else is in the window seat and the middle seat is empty. Voila! No cooties. It also helps not to make eye-contact with people as they board, though that isn't very friendly.

Tonight I believe that the woman in the window seat on my row is experiencing a first. The chick in the aisle seat on her row has been crying for the past hour. That's me. Window seat lady is trying to be subtle, but I can see her trying to sneak a peek out of the corner of her right eye. I wonder what she thinks is wrong with me. Lost my job maybe? Boyfriend dumped me? Underwear's too tight? If you have an imagination, the possibilities for why a person could be sitting on an airplane crying really are endless. I wonder if she has an imagination...

Not quite 2 weeks after Matt died Brigham's school had a "Family Fun Night". My friend's husband was out of town, so we decided it might be good for my kids to get out of the house and feel like normal kids for awhile and off we went. It was a strange experience for me: sitting in the cafeteria eating pizza and playing bingo and looking into the faces of the people around me. Faces of people who were completely unaware that my husband was dead, that the little boys with me lost their father and that the baby in my bulging belly would grow up in a world that to him never included his father. It was a surreal moment, sitting in that crowded room when our wound was so fresh. It feels just as fresh sitting here on this plane almost 7 months later.

When I look at the people around me I have no idea what their struggles may be. Possibly they are alcoholics and drug addicts. They have eating disorders, they've lost their jobs or their homes or their retirement funds. They've had a miscarriage recently or they are aching for their spouse who is overseas. They feel unloved or uncared for. They are abused in their homes. Maybe no one helps them with their homework or tucks them in at night. Of course there might not be an ounce of drama in their lives, but I don't know that. I am the only one sitting here crying, but I am not the only one struggling. I feel humbled by that.

Yes, Hunter is Cool

2009-03-30T21:27:00.001-07:00

This is a fluffy post for the most part, just a response to a comment left on the last post. Hunter is one of the coolest kids I know. He went through a phase a couple of weeks ago when he wore these glasses ALL the time. Kind of Bono-esque I think.

I'm pretty sure he knows he's cool.

Memories of Youth

2009-03-28T06:15:00.000-07:00

I just sat down at the computer and looked out the window behind me. There are big FAT snowflakes falling from the sky in wet, white clumps. Anyone looked at a calender lately? It's almost April. We should be gearing up for pool season! I am so not made for winter.

Last week the weather was beautiful...60s and 70s, even after the sun went down the boys were still outside playing. With all their boyness, they helped Papa chop up a tree and haul the logs back to the wood pile. The payoff was sweet: rides around the yard in the wheelbarrow.

As I watched them cruising around I recalled moments just like this with my own grandpa. I will bet you a batch of those brownies from a couple posts back that the inventor of the wheelbarrow had no idea he was creating a prop for childhood memories. He just thought he was making it easier to haul stuff.

I just paused my post-writing to do some wheelbarrow research. It was invented in ancient Greece around 400 BC and was called a hyperteria monokyklou (translated as "one body for a one-wheeler"). It was adopted by the Romans and later appeared in medieval Europe sometime between 1170 and 1250. It filtered on down from there. It's a pretty cool invention really, though I can't imagine the little Greek and Roman kids ever got rides around the yard.

Little Boys

2009-03-25T06:58:00.000-07:00

Several people asked me after Matt died "How do you get out of bed in the morning?" This is my secret: I have 3 phenomenal little boys who make me laugh, cry, yell, play, share secrets, sigh, tickle, snuggle, yell, read, daydream, hug, kiss, wrestle, run, jump, did I mention yell?, think, tell stories, love...and if that wasn't enough to get a person out of bed every morning, there's the laundry. ;)

Our neighbors took Brigham and Hunter fishing for the first time. They were so excited. They almost caught a fish this big. They're pretty much the cutest kids ever. (quotes are from scrapbook.com)

"Between the innocence of babyhood and the dignity of manhood, we find

a delightful creature of a boy."

"You don't raise heroes, you raise sons. And if you treat them like sons, they'll

turn out to be heroes, even if it's just in your own eyes"

"Panic, chaos, disorder...my work here is done."

"Boys are found everywhere... on top of, underneath, inside of, climbing on, swinging from, running around, or jumping to. A boy is truth with dirt on its face, beauty with a cut on its finger, wisdom with bubble gum in its hair, and the hope of the future with a frog in its pocket."

"There's a special place in Heaven for a mom of all boys."

They're THAT Good

2009-03-24T07:44:00.001-07:00

Today's post comes with a shout out to Kim in Seattle. You have improved the quality of my life and I thank you. For everyone else, let me pass along the favor:

It's a brownie. Possibly one of the best I have ever eaten. You too can have this brownie in your life. Well, not this exact one, but one very much like it. Here's how:

1. Mix a box of brownies (9x13 size) according to the package

2. Pour 1/2 the brownie batter into a 9x13 pan

3. Layer 3 huge "Symphony" bars on top of the batter

4. Smooth remaining batter over the candy bars and seal candy bars by making sure they are completely covered by the batter

5. Bake according to package instructions

Some helpful hints, the original recipe calls for the bars with toffee and almonds. I couldn't decide if I would like these or the plain bars better, so I used toffee with almonds on one side and plain on the other. I'm a bit of a puritan, so I ended up liking the plain side better. Also, if you are using a 9x13 pan with rounded corners you will not be able to fit all 3 of the candy bars whole. Trim one vertical (long-wise) row off one of the candy bars, then everything will fit.

These really are that good. Brigham could hardly contain himself as he waited for them to cool. "Could I please just have a little practice bite?" he asked. Seriously, give them a try. When they're done, you're gonna wanna kiss me full on the lips.

And now, the treadmill awaits...

Happiness vs. Optimism

2009-03-20T20:55:00.000-07:00

My laptop has a bug. I haven't been posting because all the stories I have to share right now require photos that are on my laptop. But a little while ago I was flipping through a chick mag and something I read in it actually brought me greater clarity and insight and requires no photographic narration. (FYI it was Redbook. Incidentally, I took a "what kind of writer are you" quiz on Facebook yesterday and the result was Jane Austen. Would she read Redbook?)

Most of you know that I was recently back home for more meetings and negotiations with attorneys and the trucking company. You may remember from a previous post that I thoroughly enjoy my attorneys. Hanging out with them for hours on end is not painful, which is good, because this go around lasted 10 hours STRAIGHT. As we sat around eating trail mix and making jokes, one of my attorneys said, with what I think may have been a tiny bit of awe and wonderment, that he's never known anyone who could say such depressing things with such a big smile on their face. (Keep up, he was referring to me.) He determined that the two conflicted and couldn't possibly coexist. Either my negative comments were a lie or the smile and laughter were.

Now, it should be said that I would never, I repeat NEVER, claim to be an optimist. But I don't think I'm truly a pessimist either.

The Redbook article that has me feeling so validated today says that ideally happiness and optimism go hand in hand, but not necessarily. A little bit of pessimism can help us prepare for setbacks and tragedies and can be an effective coping mechanism for stressful times in our lives. When we have this attitude, but combine it with perspective, it's easier to be happy while still addressing the challenges of life.

If realists actually exist, I'm one of those. I have myself convinced that I will be alone for the rest of my very long life, that I will be diagnosed with cancer in 5 years and that I will lose one of my children before adulthood, probably because one of them has whacked another over the head with something sharp and rusty. Which is ridiculous, right, because how could THAT much bad stuff happen to one person after all the stuff that I'm already dealing with? But we can't be naive. It is possible. Job's not just a story in the Bible.

In spite of it all, I can't help but laugh easily, loudly and often because I probably don't really believe the negative stuff I say.

Maybe that's how someone can say such dreary things with such a big smile on their face: I say it, but I don't really mean a word of it. But then again, it could all play out exactly as I've told myself it will...

Toothless Grin

2009-03-18T10:02:00.000-07:00

Brigham has been working on a loose tooth for a couple of weeks. It's been loose, but hasn't shown any signs of going anywhere. While I was gone, Hunter punched Brigham in the mouth and out came the tooth. He put it on his night stand (he was afraid if he put it under his pillow the Tooth Fairy would wake him up) and scored $2.

Before I could have someone take a picture, the other front tooth came out. I was so bummed that I missed the photo op that I tried to make him stick it back in yesterday when I got back into town to stage a picture. He wouldn't have anything to do with that idea, so this is all I've got:

Not wanting me to miss everything, Brigham decided to hang on to the 2nd tooth an extra night so he could show it to me. After having it for a little while longer than he had the other one, he didn't really want to part with it at all. But he still wanted some money. Oh the dilemmas of a 6 year old boy! I suggested he try negotiating with the Tooth Fairy. This is what he came up with:

Brigham's Tooth Fairy is SO accommodating! He got $1 and the tooth.

St. Paddy's Day

2009-03-17T19:05:00.000-07:00

Happy St. Patrick's Day! I just got back today and have a dozen things to catch up on, but had to take time out for some Seth pics.

This is seriously the cutest leprechaun I have ever seen.

And watching American Idol. Really.

Hiatus #2

2009-03-13T20:11:00.000-07:00

I've been feeling like I've abandoned you. I am out of town again-back to the Valley of the Sun- for a few days. I meant to post this before I left, so you wouldn't expect anything new, and I just didn't get it done. Life. I'll be in touch next week!

Confessional

2009-03-10T17:04:00.000-07:00

I have reached a new low. It's confession time, are ya ready for it? I just had Dr. Pepper and Fruit Loops for dinner. This time I'm going to say it's okay to judge me. I knew it was wrong when I did it and yet I did it anyway...

At least this isn't the high for the day. Earlier today I tried on a shirt I needed to have some alterations made on. I think it's a pretty normal shirt, but when Hunter saw it he said, "Are you a princess?" "Do I look like a princess?" I asked. "No," said Hunter, "Maybe more like a superhero."

Regardless of what you allow yourself to eat for dinner every now and again, if your kid can't decide whether he sees you more as a princess or a superhero, you're doing alright.

6 Months and 1 Day Ago

2009-03-08T20:07:00.000-07:00

I've been feeling guilty all weekend for not posting, but I couldn't think of anything to write that wasn't incredibly depressing or negative. Yesterday was the 6 month mark since Matt's accident. Tonight I found myself browsing through old photos and I thought I'd post some favorites from back when we were just a normal family.

Hunter's 3rd birthday, the boys were just being goofy boys:

My little couch potatoes. The family that plays video games together...(I don't have an ending for that.)

Pictures of Matt and me together are rare. How sad is that? (Right now go make an appointment to have pictures taken of you and your spouse. I'm serious.) Remember the lyrics I posted a little while ago, The Prayer of A Common Man, by Phil Vassar? Well, meet Phil Vassar. Funny story: Phil has been a favorite of mine for quite sometime. (That's his tour bus we're hanging out on.) Last summer he got divorced. When I told Matt, he said "You're leaving me for Phil Vassar aren't you?" He does play a mean piano...

Though they're on regular film, we have tons of pictures of Brigham and Matt together when Brigham was little. For some reason we don't have as many of Hunter and Matt, so I really appreciate the ones we do have. In case you can't tell, they are playing the piano together. I especially love this one for the sweet expression on Matt's face. That's a guy who loves his kids.

While I wish there were more, especially of Matt and me, what a blessing it is to have pictures to illustrate moments in life we would otherwise forget.

For the Greater Good

2009-03-05T07:10:00.001-08:00

I've been debating whether or not to post this because I'm vain and these are not great pictures of me. But I have decided that for the greater good of hilarious story telling, I will over look my appearance in favor of the post (I was laughing too hard to keep my chins in check). I am also going to keep my comments to a minimum, so if you want to just scroll through the photos like they're a short film you can.

Here's some background: As I briefly mentioned in my previous post, Hunter is usually the bully of the family. He's only 3, but the kid is insanely strong. He has completely knocked me over on more than one occasion. Instances of Hunter being the victim are few and far between, so much so that when the following scenario went down during Sunday's family photo shoot, my sister opted to keep the camera rolling over helping the poor kid. Pay close attention to the action going on between Hunter and Seth.

This last picture is absolutely priceless to me. Hunter has been put in his place and Seth is the reigning King of the Mountain.

Hunter's Little Secret

2009-03-03T19:48:00.001-08:00

Hunter will either keep me young or age me before my time, I can't decide which. Last night when I was putting him to bed I discovered one of his little secrets. He didn't like the book I chose to read to him, but he didn't want to get up to pick a different one. I didn't either, so I opted to make one up instead. "Do you want to hear a story about a little boy named Hunter who lives in a castle and chases dragons?" "No," says he, "I don't wike dat story." How 'bout the one about the little boy named Hunter who goes fishing in the ocean? Who goes on a pirate ship? Who hunts lions in Africa? No, no, no.

How 'bout a story about a little boy named Hunter who goes on a stage and gets to sing a song with the Wiggles? Can you believe it, that one was a winner! So I proceeded to make up a story with the afore mentioned plot line. A little boy named Hunter goes to a Wiggles concert...blah blah blah. I got to the end of the story and Hunter said, "I wike dat one. Read it again." So I told it all over again and he went to sleep happily. Now it's common knowledge around here that Hunter LOVES the movie "Enchanted" (I bought the boys kazoos the other day. Hunter played his in the car for awhile, then proudly announced "That was the Gisele song!") and he sits still through American Idol, but I think we might be developing a pattern now. My little bully loves singing and dancing!

This morning the Easter Bunny picked up High School Musical for Hunter's Easter basket. I'm sure it will be an instant favorite.

We Are Family

2009-03-02T07:06:00.000-08:00

This is all I have for you today, just a brand-spankin new snapshot of three little men...and me.

Easy As Pie

2009-02-28T19:57:00.000-08:00

I took a pie making class this morning. This is the literal fruit of my labor. You can't tell it in the picture, but that crack you see is actually part of a fancy letter A (for apple) that doubles as venting holes.

You should have seen the bottom crust before I filled it. It was perfect, absolutely flawless. I'm not the only one who thought so either. Someone else at the class commented on it first, causing me to reply, JOKINGLY, that if you can't do something perfectly the first time, you shouldn't do it at all. Does it sound to you like patience is a strength of mine?

Later in the day I had a texting conversation with a very dear friend of mine. (She doesn't read my blog, so she won't know I made part of the convo public unless you tell her.)

HER: ...sometimes answers don't come as soon as we would like them to.

ME: Yeah, I'm becoming pretty familiar with that concept. I can't think of anything since Matt died that has come when I wanted it to.

HER: I hate lessons in patience.

ME: Totally! How do you know when you've learned it?!

HER: ...that whole enduring to the end crap sure does get exhausting to think about...if you figure out life before me...please share.

ME: That seems too big. How 'bout I just let you know when I figure out the banjo?

It's hidden in a lot of fluff, but that's the point of my post today: Life's lessons. How do we know when we've learned them? When the trials and challenges never seem to end, are we not catching on to the lesson? I'd really like to have your thoughts on this one.