Scotcheroos

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:

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

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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.

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Topping:
1 cup chocolate chips
1 cup butterscotch chips

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Melt together and pour over bars.

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Here's my translation:

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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.

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

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And there you go.

Truth Be Told

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

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

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

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

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?

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

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.