We've been staying at Joe's place the last few days and when we're there, Jonnie sleeps in the same room as we do. Unfortunately, here is what our night consisted of last night.
Cough, cough.
Cough, cough.
And a little later...
Cough, cough, cough.
Cough, cough, cough.
Being away from home without my medicine cabinet is NOT my favorite thing, and I normally always bring a few basics with me when we travel north. The climate and elevation change always seems to get the kids with one sickness or another. Who wants to wake up your hosts at one in the morning asking for some Vicks?
All night long it was the same thing.
Cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough.
Needless to say, I'm tired.
Good thing I can take a nap :)
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Bawling My Eyes Out
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| My sweet chili peppers. 7 times I have gone through PPD, with each baby it became progressively worse. They're worth it. They're definitely worth it. I'm glad I'm their Mama! |
So... the bawling. What is it from this time, you ask.
Tonight I happened to look on www.ksl.com and noticed a link to a story on postpartum depression. I clicked on it, watched it, and from there went to a good website on postpartum depression called pospartumprogress.com. It is not a good website, it is an excellent website. I've been there before, I vaguely remember, but tonight I clicked on this link talking about the 6 Stages of Postpartum Depression, and as I read it the tears started falling and I couldn't help but sit and bawl my eyes out.
The first five stages were fine. I completely related with each and every one. The sixth stage is where I lost it. I have for a very long time known that my postpartum depression had been tainted with an extra shot of PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder). I have come to a sane enough point to be able to identify that, and also identify most of the reasons behind it, but it has always baffled me why I still feel so traumatized when most of the things that traumatized me really have been dealt with by now. I had always attributed it to things that happened during the pregnancy and a short bit of extreme trauma in the weeks after the baby was born. Step number 6 really helped me understand why, and I can completely see now that a part of my PTSD has been caused by the trauma of dealing with the PPD and the changes it brought with it.
It just feels so good to know that I'm not the only freak in the world who has dealt with this to such an extreme level. It feels so relieving to know that there is an end, somewhere. There is healing. There has to be if others have healed.
One of the big things that brings me immediately back to the pain and trauma that I went through and opens the wounds up fresh and raw again is hearing that another woman is dealing with the same thing and going through postpartum depression. I want to help, and hopefully I have been able to help a few. But I know I cannot erase the hurt and take away the pain for them. I know I cannot shield and protect them from everything they will go through. I cannot help and support them in all the ways I wish I could, and it breaks my heart. It is one of the reasons I am so open with this issue on my blog, because I don't ever want anyone else to feel as alone and isolated and hurt and hopeless as I did, without them knowing that someone else understands, someone else has been through this, and someone else cares.
So, for you fabulous mothers out there going through this little piece of hell... please know my heart is aching for you. Know that you are in my prayers, and know that I am only a phone call or email away. Also, please take a moment to look over this website. It really has an enormous amount of valuable help and information, both for you, and for your family.
One of the things that jumped out at me as I went through several of the pages of the website tonight was this sentence.
...the most common symptom of postpartum depression is not sadness at all- it is anxiety and agitation … and while many women who struggle might have periods of sadness, depression and tearfulness, the overwhelming symptoms that cause them great pain are difficulty concentrating, excessive worry, high level overwhelm, racing thoughts and difficulty sleeping.
And I will expand on this... that the agitation mentioned frequently involves frustration, irritation, and lashing out at your children or husband.
One of the difficult things is identifying that yes you HAVE postpartum depression, especially if you aren't feeling particularly sad or "depressed" in the way it is often depicted. You may not have an Eeyore face or a constant raincloud over your head... not everyone does. But if you are even wondering if you have PPD... there is a good chance you do. And a good chance you will NOT be able to just "get over it" on your own without a bit of understanding and support.
I'm here for you. Please call or email. It is the ONE thing that I can feel good about from the whole experience... helping someone else who may be dealing with it.
May you find peace,
Rachel
Monday, May 16, 2011
Cream Puffs, Eggs, and Nests
Here is an update WITH PICTURES can you believe it? In no particular order, here are some recent pics!
Easter was fun! We decorated eggs with the chili peppers on Friday and Saturday was spent making yummy Easter treats. I let each of the kids choose a treat to make and by the end of the day I was beyond frazzled. Thank goodness Eric and Eliza rescued me and took all the younger kids to get french fries and hamburgers and play at the playland while I basked in the calmness of the quiet house.
I get to be a proud mama and brag for a minute here... Mercy wanted to make cream puffs and as you can see from the pictures, they turned out beautifully!! Now, cream puffs are not the easiest thing in the world to make. The dough is finicky and if you don't bake them just right they either turn out dry and crusty or fall flat. Mercy found the recipe herself, made the dough herself, baked them herself, and WOW. They were perfect!! Then she proceeded to make the Bavarian Custard from scratch and followed THAT recipe by herself too :) I am pretty proud of her.
Eliza and Eric moved in that weekend (we have LOVED having them here!!) Jason and his girls surprised us with a visit Easter weekend too and it was awesome to see them and having them stay. And then, the day after Easter MOM surprised us with a visit too. Taliesin and Mercy had fun playing tetherball with her. It was fun to see her enjoying the grandkids for a bit.
Anyway, enjoy the pics!!
Easter was fun! We decorated eggs with the chili peppers on Friday and Saturday was spent making yummy Easter treats. I let each of the kids choose a treat to make and by the end of the day I was beyond frazzled. Thank goodness Eric and Eliza rescued me and took all the younger kids to get french fries and hamburgers and play at the playland while I basked in the calmness of the quiet house.
I get to be a proud mama and brag for a minute here... Mercy wanted to make cream puffs and as you can see from the pictures, they turned out beautifully!! Now, cream puffs are not the easiest thing in the world to make. The dough is finicky and if you don't bake them just right they either turn out dry and crusty or fall flat. Mercy found the recipe herself, made the dough herself, baked them herself, and WOW. They were perfect!! Then she proceeded to make the Bavarian Custard from scratch and followed THAT recipe by herself too :) I am pretty proud of her.
Eliza and Eric moved in that weekend (we have LOVED having them here!!) Jason and his girls surprised us with a visit Easter weekend too and it was awesome to see them and having them stay. And then, the day after Easter MOM surprised us with a visit too. Taliesin and Mercy had fun playing tetherball with her. It was fun to see her enjoying the grandkids for a bit.
Anyway, enjoy the pics!!
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| Daisy's Coconut Jelly Bean Nests |
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| Tyler's Chocolate Cereal Jellybean Nests |
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| Taliesin's Cupcakes |
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| Kitty Kat riding the wiggle car :) |
Friday, April 15, 2011
Someone
I'm like a puddle on the floor
I'm giving up on you.
I have melted more and more
I'm giving up on you.
You're never here.
You don't come through.
I'm giving up on you.
I've tried to be a calm and comfort.
Giving up on you.
I've tried to reach you through the storm
I'm giving up on you.
You never know.
You don't come through.
I'm giving up on you.
Somewhere. Some day.
Someone. Will blow it all away.
Sometime. Some how.
Someone. Won't give up on me.
Like the calm before the storm
I'm giving up on you.
Like the dark before the dawn
I'm giving up on you.
You don't come through.
You're never here.
I'm giving up on you.
You broke my heart so many times
I'm giving up on you.
My tears have rained upon the floor
I'm giving up on you.
You'll never know.
You'll never know.
I'm giving up on you.
Somewhere. Some day.
Someone. Will blow it all away.
Sometime. Some how.
Someone. Won't give up on me.
They won't give up on me.
Won't give up on me.
I'm giving up on you.
I have melted more and more
I'm giving up on you.
You're never here.
You don't come through.
I'm giving up on you.
I've tried to be a calm and comfort.
Giving up on you.
I've tried to reach you through the storm
I'm giving up on you.
You never know.
You don't come through.
I'm giving up on you.
Somewhere. Some day.
Someone. Will blow it all away.
Sometime. Some how.
Someone. Won't give up on me.
Like the calm before the storm
I'm giving up on you.
Like the dark before the dawn
I'm giving up on you.
You don't come through.
You're never here.
I'm giving up on you.
You broke my heart so many times
I'm giving up on you.
My tears have rained upon the floor
I'm giving up on you.
You'll never know.
You'll never know.
I'm giving up on you.
Somewhere. Some day.
Someone. Will blow it all away.
Sometime. Some how.
Someone. Won't give up on me.
They won't give up on me.
Won't give up on me.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Recipes
Recipes make sense. You add this to that, you mix these with those, you stir, you steam, you cream, you bake... and at the end you have something that is real. Is good. It makes sense. There are certain scientific evidences in cooking and baking that are the same every time. Butter+heat = melted butter. Baking soda+vinegar will produce the same results every time. And my favorite... chocolate+coconut=yummy! (Okay, not everyone will agree with that, but it is a constant for me at least.)
Life, is a little different. There aren't recipes, or at least they don't always make sense. Crying babies+rocking in a chair with mommy doesn't always equal a soothed baby. Working 40 hours a week plus overtime doesn't always equal all the bills getting paid. And eating healthy+working out doesn't always equal the weight you want to be, at least not as fast as you want it to come.
Perhaps there isn't a recipe for everything, but there are constants. And for this I am grateful. God's love is constant. Certain friends are constant. Love is the better way, that is a constant.
And for everything that isn't constant... I guess we'll have to substitute a yummy recipe instead. Here's the recipe for today :) I made it for the recent cake auction, and I hope the people who paid $65 for it were as happy eating it as I was making it. And to Mackenzie's family, I hope you enjoyed the one I made for her birthday, and understand the love we have for you in our hearts, and the hope we have for the future.
Pumpkin Cake with Chocolate Chips, Layered with Chocolate Fudge Icing and Maple Cream Cheese Frosting
1 box spice cake mix
1 box yellow cake mix
2 teaspoons cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon cloves
1/4 teaspoon ginger
1 29 oz can pumpkin puree
4 eggs
Mix them up, add chocolate chips. Pour them into well greased round cake pans, half as tall as you'd like them to end up. Bake according to cake mix directions, testing when done by lightly touching the top and seeing if it springs back.
Meanwhile, melt 1 cup butter and add
2/3 cup whole milk
2/3 cup dark cocoa
2/3 cup regular cocoa
3 cups powdered sugar
When smooth, add 12 oz bag of chocolate chips
And with your mixer, whip up
1 stick butter
1 8oz package cream cheese
4 cups powdered sugar
1 tsp maple extract
Whip for 5 minutes at least.
When the cake is cool, cover it with the chocolate icing. Stick it in the freezer to cool for a few minutes, frost with a thick layer of cream cheese frosting, layer another cake, cover with chocolate icing, cool, and frost again with a thick layer of cream cheese frosting.
Life, is a little different. There aren't recipes, or at least they don't always make sense. Crying babies+rocking in a chair with mommy doesn't always equal a soothed baby. Working 40 hours a week plus overtime doesn't always equal all the bills getting paid. And eating healthy+working out doesn't always equal the weight you want to be, at least not as fast as you want it to come.
Perhaps there isn't a recipe for everything, but there are constants. And for this I am grateful. God's love is constant. Certain friends are constant. Love is the better way, that is a constant.
And for everything that isn't constant... I guess we'll have to substitute a yummy recipe instead. Here's the recipe for today :) I made it for the recent cake auction, and I hope the people who paid $65 for it were as happy eating it as I was making it. And to Mackenzie's family, I hope you enjoyed the one I made for her birthday, and understand the love we have for you in our hearts, and the hope we have for the future.
Pumpkin Cake with Chocolate Chips, Layered with Chocolate Fudge Icing and Maple Cream Cheese Frosting
1 box spice cake mix
1 box yellow cake mix
2 teaspoons cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon cloves
1/4 teaspoon ginger
1 29 oz can pumpkin puree
4 eggs
Mix them up, add chocolate chips. Pour them into well greased round cake pans, half as tall as you'd like them to end up. Bake according to cake mix directions, testing when done by lightly touching the top and seeing if it springs back.
Meanwhile, melt 1 cup butter and add
2/3 cup whole milk
2/3 cup dark cocoa
2/3 cup regular cocoa
3 cups powdered sugar
When smooth, add 12 oz bag of chocolate chips
And with your mixer, whip up
1 stick butter
1 8oz package cream cheese
4 cups powdered sugar
1 tsp maple extract
Whip for 5 minutes at least.
When the cake is cool, cover it with the chocolate icing. Stick it in the freezer to cool for a few minutes, frost with a thick layer of cream cheese frosting, layer another cake, cover with chocolate icing, cool, and frost again with a thick layer of cream cheese frosting.
Twas the Last Sunday Night...
Ha. I forgot I twittered this little poem so long ago. I am looking forward more beautiful Southern Utah weather this year!!
The children are nestled all over the porch,
while visions of ice cream dance in their heads.
The baby is crying again for his bottle,
or maybe it's nightmares of Brae holding him in a throttle.
Mercy is eating peaches and cream,
she's adjusting pretty well to school, it seems.
Momma is ready for some quiet tonight,
the kids have been good but she's glad it's GOODNIGHT!
We're all missing Papa, he's jolly and merry
but his belly doesn't shake like a bowlful of jelly.
With great anticipation we are all awaiting
the next time Papa gets some needed vacation.
Come Friday the 4th, what will we hear?
A big blue Ford - sometimes used as a hotel.
And what to our wondering eyes shall appear?
Papa himself and his laugh and good cheer.
And so now you know what the Jessops are doing
down Hurricane way where a storm has been brewing.
On the last Sunday night before Daddy comes home
to see his Sweet Peppers and Mama Bear again.
The End.
The children are nestled all over the porch,
while visions of ice cream dance in their heads.
The baby is crying again for his bottle,
or maybe it's nightmares of Brae holding him in a throttle.
Mercy is eating peaches and cream,
she's adjusting pretty well to school, it seems.
Momma is ready for some quiet tonight,
the kids have been good but she's glad it's GOODNIGHT!
We're all missing Papa, he's jolly and merry
but his belly doesn't shake like a bowlful of jelly.
With great anticipation we are all awaiting
the next time Papa gets some needed vacation.
Come Friday the 4th, what will we hear?
A big blue Ford - sometimes used as a hotel.
And what to our wondering eyes shall appear?
Papa himself and his laugh and good cheer.
And so now you know what the Jessops are doing
down Hurricane way where a storm has been brewing.
On the last Sunday night before Daddy comes home
to see his Sweet Peppers and Mama Bear again.
The End.
The best picture...
One street down from where we live is a dead end road circled in pomegranate bushes, and at the end of that road a walking trail begins. It winds along the old canal and then turns into a small canyon where in the rainy season, there are three small waterfalls. These are the namesake for Three Falls Elementary that my kids attend, and it is a favorite hike for my kids anytime they have guests down to visit. There are multiple caves along the canyon walls, and Taliesin's last scout camp used some of them for sleeping in last time they camped out.
Yesterday while the weather was beautiful we went on a family hike up the canyon, and while there are many good pictures that could have taken, my favorite was one of Ryan kneeling on one knee by his daughter with a small scrape on her knee, making sure she was okay and giving her a kiss on her forehead. Too bad I didn't bring my camera.
I cannot tell you how wonderful it has been to have Ryan home for a couple weeks. To see his face and feel his touch and hear him singing has been truly a much needed comfort to my soul.
I love you Ry. Thanks for loving me.
Yesterday while the weather was beautiful we went on a family hike up the canyon, and while there are many good pictures that could have taken, my favorite was one of Ryan kneeling on one knee by his daughter with a small scrape on her knee, making sure she was okay and giving her a kiss on her forehead. Too bad I didn't bring my camera.
I cannot tell you how wonderful it has been to have Ryan home for a couple weeks. To see his face and feel his touch and hear him singing has been truly a much needed comfort to my soul.
I love you Ry. Thanks for loving me.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Bricks
It's no secret, I get depressed. Have for years. Had a hell of a time over the past couple years fighting it and dealing with it. You probably get sick of reading about it on this blog. Guess what. I get sick of living it.
I was diagnosed as "clinically depressed" 9 years ago. And for 7 years, I fought that diagnosis and fought the reality of what I was facing. I fought and fought and worked and worked and took the herbal remedies and the natural solutions and the vitamins and the oils and the homeopathics and the advice and helpful suggestions wherever I could. I changed my diet, I ate this instead of that. I cut out sugar. I ate protein at every meal. I balanced my electrolytes, my iron, my vitamin C. I got vitamin b shots. I took vitamin b drops. I pounded omega 3's, 6's, and 9's. I had lavender baths. I worked on the contributing factors where I could recognize them. I read books and took walks and worked out. I exercised daily, and put more miles on my stroller walking around the small town I lived in one summer than I did on my van. I took supplements of this and supplements of that, vitamins and minerals and calcium and got lots of sunshine and breaks from the kids and took time for me. I sought help and solutions in every way shape or form I could find them, except for the drugs that the doctors offered. I did mental reconditioning and surrounded myself with positive reinforcing statements and affirmations posted all over my house and even inside my cupboard doors. I prayed and I prayed and I prayed and I read and I did everything I knew how to do. For seven years.
And then, I snapped.
There were definitely a lot of contributing factors. As much as I did to try to reverse the situation and make sure that with each baby I wasn't going to have to deal with postpartum depression... in the end, real life kicks in. The icing on the cake, of course, was the new baby and all that came with him. And while it helps to define the factors involved, the end result is what I have to deal with on a daily and consistent basis. This new me. This me post-baby-number-seven. This me post-mental breakdown.
I was forever changed.
I needed help. I knew it. I could feel myself at the edge of a cliff and knowing that if I didnt' get help soon there would be no more Rachel. There would be no more me. At the time, I was inexplicably terrified of driving, or I would have gotten in the van, drove off, and never come back. I don't kno were I would be. I have no idea. And I don't ever want to find out.
I couldn't handle the baby. I couldn't handle the kids. I couldn't deal with the stress. I was shutting down more and more and more. Like quicksand, it was surroundg me, pulling me farther in, and every effort to not surrender to it sunk me farther and farther.
My last ditch effort to have Ryan finally understand where I was at, was a miracle that at that point I could even express it to him adequately. I knew that if I didn't get help, I would die. I knew I was cracking, splintering, and that if I didn't get help I would be in a million pieces on the floor and there would be no way to fix what was wrong. I had been bad off before, but this was nothing like I'd ever experienced.
I remember just bawling and bawling and saying over and over "I need help." It was three in the morning, I think, before he realized the extent of what I was saying. And to his credit, he got me help. He drove me to the doctor's office the next day. He filled my prescription, and held me as I went through the rollercoaster from hell that comes with getting on, and off, those drugs.
He has been amazing, and I rely on his strength and fortitude. It is no wonder I miss him so much when he is gone working.
Now, it's two years later, and I still hate the drugs. I worked hard, and with the help of my husband, my family, and my friends, and especially with the help of beautiful priesthood blessings, I was able to get off the drugs and stay off of them. It has been 11 months since I last took my prescriptions, and I'm proud of it. But I still can't throw the rest of them out. They are expired, and I don't ever want to take them again, and yet I can't throw them away. I panic.
Partly why I panic is because of days like today. Days when I should be fine, when there is nothing "wrong", and definitely nothing to be crying about. And yet I do. Even more than crying, I sit, with a weight upon my back, like forty tons of brick pressing down on me. I curl up and tears stream down my face and my head swirls round and round. I can't move. I can't vocalize. I don't function.
What I've found I have to do is label the bricks. Try to identify them. And visually, forcibly, remove them from my back, off my shoulders, out of my lap, and set them down. Sometimes I can set them aside. Sometimes I don't know where to put them, and I have to give them to Father in Heaven and ask Him to take care of them for me. I have to recognize if I'm carrying the bricks that belong to someone else, taking on their stress or responsibility.
Sometimes the bricks are fragile and whe I go to pick them up, the bricks in that particular pile will break apart and fall back down on me, and I have to pick each piece up carefully and set it aside gently, because those feelings are so real and so raw.
And if someone comes along and asks "how are you?" I smile cheerfully. I answer the phone as though nothing is wrong. Even if they could see the bricks, they would not recognize what I was doing. I just try to shrug and make it look like there is nothing wrong. I'm quite good at it actually. There probably isn't anyone I came in contact with today that realized just how much I was struggling.
At least, until Joe called. Somehow he could tell, even before he called. Maybe he read my last post, maybe he was just prompted. I don't know. But I hope he also knows how much it means that he did call. That he does care. That he listens to me and doesn't make me feel bad for being weighed down by my load of bricks today. That he doesn't remind me it's all just in my head. That he doesn't make me feel like I'm just wrong for how I feel.
Thank you Joe. And thank you Father, for a brother who loves me so much. And for helping me to know...
I will be okay. One brick, one day, at a time.
I was diagnosed as "clinically depressed" 9 years ago. And for 7 years, I fought that diagnosis and fought the reality of what I was facing. I fought and fought and worked and worked and took the herbal remedies and the natural solutions and the vitamins and the oils and the homeopathics and the advice and helpful suggestions wherever I could. I changed my diet, I ate this instead of that. I cut out sugar. I ate protein at every meal. I balanced my electrolytes, my iron, my vitamin C. I got vitamin b shots. I took vitamin b drops. I pounded omega 3's, 6's, and 9's. I had lavender baths. I worked on the contributing factors where I could recognize them. I read books and took walks and worked out. I exercised daily, and put more miles on my stroller walking around the small town I lived in one summer than I did on my van. I took supplements of this and supplements of that, vitamins and minerals and calcium and got lots of sunshine and breaks from the kids and took time for me. I sought help and solutions in every way shape or form I could find them, except for the drugs that the doctors offered. I did mental reconditioning and surrounded myself with positive reinforcing statements and affirmations posted all over my house and even inside my cupboard doors. I prayed and I prayed and I prayed and I read and I did everything I knew how to do. For seven years.
And then, I snapped.
There were definitely a lot of contributing factors. As much as I did to try to reverse the situation and make sure that with each baby I wasn't going to have to deal with postpartum depression... in the end, real life kicks in. The icing on the cake, of course, was the new baby and all that came with him. And while it helps to define the factors involved, the end result is what I have to deal with on a daily and consistent basis. This new me. This me post-baby-number-seven. This me post-mental breakdown.
I was forever changed.
I needed help. I knew it. I could feel myself at the edge of a cliff and knowing that if I didnt' get help soon there would be no more Rachel. There would be no more me. At the time, I was inexplicably terrified of driving, or I would have gotten in the van, drove off, and never come back. I don't kno were I would be. I have no idea. And I don't ever want to find out.
I couldn't handle the baby. I couldn't handle the kids. I couldn't deal with the stress. I was shutting down more and more and more. Like quicksand, it was surroundg me, pulling me farther in, and every effort to not surrender to it sunk me farther and farther.
My last ditch effort to have Ryan finally understand where I was at, was a miracle that at that point I could even express it to him adequately. I knew that if I didn't get help, I would die. I knew I was cracking, splintering, and that if I didn't get help I would be in a million pieces on the floor and there would be no way to fix what was wrong. I had been bad off before, but this was nothing like I'd ever experienced.
I remember just bawling and bawling and saying over and over "I need help." It was three in the morning, I think, before he realized the extent of what I was saying. And to his credit, he got me help. He drove me to the doctor's office the next day. He filled my prescription, and held me as I went through the rollercoaster from hell that comes with getting on, and off, those drugs.
He has been amazing, and I rely on his strength and fortitude. It is no wonder I miss him so much when he is gone working.
Now, it's two years later, and I still hate the drugs. I worked hard, and with the help of my husband, my family, and my friends, and especially with the help of beautiful priesthood blessings, I was able to get off the drugs and stay off of them. It has been 11 months since I last took my prescriptions, and I'm proud of it. But I still can't throw the rest of them out. They are expired, and I don't ever want to take them again, and yet I can't throw them away. I panic.
Partly why I panic is because of days like today. Days when I should be fine, when there is nothing "wrong", and definitely nothing to be crying about. And yet I do. Even more than crying, I sit, with a weight upon my back, like forty tons of brick pressing down on me. I curl up and tears stream down my face and my head swirls round and round. I can't move. I can't vocalize. I don't function.
What I've found I have to do is label the bricks. Try to identify them. And visually, forcibly, remove them from my back, off my shoulders, out of my lap, and set them down. Sometimes I can set them aside. Sometimes I don't know where to put them, and I have to give them to Father in Heaven and ask Him to take care of them for me. I have to recognize if I'm carrying the bricks that belong to someone else, taking on their stress or responsibility.
Sometimes the bricks are fragile and whe I go to pick them up, the bricks in that particular pile will break apart and fall back down on me, and I have to pick each piece up carefully and set it aside gently, because those feelings are so real and so raw.
And if someone comes along and asks "how are you?" I smile cheerfully. I answer the phone as though nothing is wrong. Even if they could see the bricks, they would not recognize what I was doing. I just try to shrug and make it look like there is nothing wrong. I'm quite good at it actually. There probably isn't anyone I came in contact with today that realized just how much I was struggling.
At least, until Joe called. Somehow he could tell, even before he called. Maybe he read my last post, maybe he was just prompted. I don't know. But I hope he also knows how much it means that he did call. That he does care. That he listens to me and doesn't make me feel bad for being weighed down by my load of bricks today. That he doesn't remind me it's all just in my head. That he doesn't make me feel like I'm just wrong for how I feel.
Thank you Joe. And thank you Father, for a brother who loves me so much. And for helping me to know...
I will be okay. One brick, one day, at a time.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Food
Food. Here's the thing, I self-medicate with food. Reading about food. Shopping for food. Cooking food. And of course, eating food. When the everyday stress of stomping feet, slamming doors, piles of laundry, broken dryers, and a working-away-from home husband pile up on me... I either shut down and tell them to make themselves peanut butter sandwich, or I create food. I create something I have control over. I look in my cupboard and dream something up with a little of this, a little of that, and somehow, out of nowhere, something delicious appears. Something good. Something wonderful. Something to enjoy. Something to savor. Something I'm good at. And usually, something to share. When I'm missing my friends and my heart is aching, my eyes are full, and I can't curl up in Ry's arms... I either curl up in bed and try to stay there forever... or I bake. I cook. I create. And while I do, I think. I process. I unravel the strings wrapped around my heart. I untie the knots in my head. And while I have something to focus on that I love to do... my heart doesn't hurt so much for a minute.
Sometimes food is the way I say "I love you." Sometimes it's the way I say, "I care." Sometimes it's the way I say "I'm listening." And sometimes it's the way I say "I'm there."
And sometimes, it just looks good and I don't need a reason to eat it. :)
For tonight though, polenta said I'm missing Ry. Marinara said I'm missing my sisters and my friends. And chicken was just the easiest thing to cook:) While I cooked, I thought of Belinda. Ephriam and his baby sisters. And I tried to sort out why it's all connected to what's been going on lately with Baby Tori. Vicki. Katie's Oliver. Val. Broken friendships. Memories that hurt. And friendships that heal.
I also wanted to make a good meal for my sweet chili peppers. Mom's been working a lot lately, and they already had "make your own sandwiches" for lunch. I wanted to make them a real meal.
Overall, the meal was delicious, and the only thing missing was a dob of sour cream (I am my mother's daughter) and a garnish of fresh basil. At least that's what I tried to tell myself.
The real thing missing was Vicki. Alina. Val. Joe. Elizabeth. Danielle. Katie. Travis. Zach. Manda. Ellen. Nan. Belinda. Ephriam. Kristine. Mike. Pheobee. Faith. And of course, Ry.
Don't ask me how you are all woven together, and don't ask me why your name isn't on this list. It's not because I don't love you, it's because I'm processing through a lot of stuff and you're not in the current tangle of fresh experiences, old memories, lingering heartaches, or hopeful prayers and wishes.
Anyway, enjoy the recipes.
Polenta with Garlic Chicken, Marinara, and Asiago
In a non-stick 4 quart pan, boil 2 cups chicken broth, 2 cups water while you saute 1/2 and onion and a clove of minced garlic in 2 Tbsp olive oil. Add the garlic and onions to the broth mix, and add 1/4-1/2 tsp seasoning salt. Slowly whisk in 1 3/4 cups coarse ground cornmeal, and then add 3 Tbsp butter to keep it from going lumpy. Cover, reduce heat to low and stir every 5-10 minutes for the next 45 minutes until it is creamy and thick. Add 2 oz cream cheese and stir it in thoroughly. Pour into 2 buttered pie plates and place in the freezer or fridge to cool and setup. When it is set, pull it out, and pan fry it in a hot pan with lots of butter til it has a nice golden crust. (Flip it carefully.)
Pan fry some chicken breasts with garlic and herb seasoning... or fresh garlic, a dash of salt and pepper. Open your favorite brand of marinara sauce and simmer the chicken in it while the polenta cools. (Mine is Angela Mia's... but you probably can't find it at the store.)
Serve the polenta with the chicken and marinara on top, a dollop of sour cream, sprinkle of asiago, and a garnish of fresh basil.
Eat, and enjoy.
Preferably with friends.
Sometimes food is the way I say "I love you." Sometimes it's the way I say, "I care." Sometimes it's the way I say "I'm listening." And sometimes it's the way I say "I'm there."
And sometimes, it just looks good and I don't need a reason to eat it. :)
For tonight though, polenta said I'm missing Ry. Marinara said I'm missing my sisters and my friends. And chicken was just the easiest thing to cook:) While I cooked, I thought of Belinda. Ephriam and his baby sisters. And I tried to sort out why it's all connected to what's been going on lately with Baby Tori. Vicki. Katie's Oliver. Val. Broken friendships. Memories that hurt. And friendships that heal.
I also wanted to make a good meal for my sweet chili peppers. Mom's been working a lot lately, and they already had "make your own sandwiches" for lunch. I wanted to make them a real meal.
Overall, the meal was delicious, and the only thing missing was a dob of sour cream (I am my mother's daughter) and a garnish of fresh basil. At least that's what I tried to tell myself.
The real thing missing was Vicki. Alina. Val. Joe. Elizabeth. Danielle. Katie. Travis. Zach. Manda. Ellen. Nan. Belinda. Ephriam. Kristine. Mike. Pheobee. Faith. And of course, Ry.
Don't ask me how you are all woven together, and don't ask me why your name isn't on this list. It's not because I don't love you, it's because I'm processing through a lot of stuff and you're not in the current tangle of fresh experiences, old memories, lingering heartaches, or hopeful prayers and wishes.
Anyway, enjoy the recipes.
Polenta with Garlic Chicken, Marinara, and Asiago
In a non-stick 4 quart pan, boil 2 cups chicken broth, 2 cups water while you saute 1/2 and onion and a clove of minced garlic in 2 Tbsp olive oil. Add the garlic and onions to the broth mix, and add 1/4-1/2 tsp seasoning salt. Slowly whisk in 1 3/4 cups coarse ground cornmeal, and then add 3 Tbsp butter to keep it from going lumpy. Cover, reduce heat to low and stir every 5-10 minutes for the next 45 minutes until it is creamy and thick. Add 2 oz cream cheese and stir it in thoroughly. Pour into 2 buttered pie plates and place in the freezer or fridge to cool and setup. When it is set, pull it out, and pan fry it in a hot pan with lots of butter til it has a nice golden crust. (Flip it carefully.)
Pan fry some chicken breasts with garlic and herb seasoning... or fresh garlic, a dash of salt and pepper. Open your favorite brand of marinara sauce and simmer the chicken in it while the polenta cools. (Mine is Angela Mia's... but you probably can't find it at the store.)
Serve the polenta with the chicken and marinara on top, a dollop of sour cream, sprinkle of asiago, and a garnish of fresh basil.
Eat, and enjoy.
Preferably with friends.
Dishes, Laundry, and Dinner
Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.
SLAM!
That's the sound of love coming from my 11 year old right now.
Get the dishes done, or go to bed. That's all I asked. Dishes that I've been asking you to do since 5:00. Dishes that you should have had done this morning without me asking. Dishes that are piling up even worse because you won't get them done. Dishes you only have to do two days a week!
No. Stomping and slamming doors is soooo much better than just getting the job done.
Am I asking too much of my kids? Are they better off just doing nothing around the house and me not having to deal with slamming doors? Sometimes I wonder. Please tell me I'm not the only Mom who deals with this.
Anyway....
Socks. Socks on my hands, that's the trick to doing laundry. Has been since I was little. I know, you can start laughing now at the mental picture you just formed in your head. Me with mismatched socks on my hands bumbling around in the laundry room, head cocked to one side as I try pathetically to remember which one is the washer and which is the dryer. Disoriented stutters as I try to sort darks and lights.
Well, thankfully it's not that bad. Really. At least not most days :)
I just can't handle the thought of sticking my hands into the laundry hamper and having the germs clobber me as I load the dirty clothes into the washer. Given the smelly treasure we found in the load of little boys pants we washed yesterday, I probably have good reason for that phobia. So, I put clean socks onto my hands as I reach into the hamper and throw the laundry in.Then I throw the socks in too.
Well, the dryer isn't working right now, so despite the rainy weather, we have laundry hanging from baskets, couches, chairs, and whatever else we can find all over the house while we wait for it to dry. Fun times!
... Not really. There are times when being here alone without my handyman Ryan to fix everything really stinks. Literally. After all, 7 kids create dirty laundry faster than the clean laundry can airdry. That's all I'll say.
And the last thing on my mind right now, but not the least, are my friends. My anxious heart. And my choice of self-medication. Which leads me to dinner. What???
Yes, Dinner. (Come on now, keep up with me!)
But, I'll post separately for that. This is too long already. :)
SLAM!
That's the sound of love coming from my 11 year old right now.
Get the dishes done, or go to bed. That's all I asked. Dishes that I've been asking you to do since 5:00. Dishes that you should have had done this morning without me asking. Dishes that are piling up even worse because you won't get them done. Dishes you only have to do two days a week!
No. Stomping and slamming doors is soooo much better than just getting the job done.
Am I asking too much of my kids? Are they better off just doing nothing around the house and me not having to deal with slamming doors? Sometimes I wonder. Please tell me I'm not the only Mom who deals with this.
Anyway....
Socks. Socks on my hands, that's the trick to doing laundry. Has been since I was little. I know, you can start laughing now at the mental picture you just formed in your head. Me with mismatched socks on my hands bumbling around in the laundry room, head cocked to one side as I try pathetically to remember which one is the washer and which is the dryer. Disoriented stutters as I try to sort darks and lights.
Well, thankfully it's not that bad. Really. At least not most days :)
I just can't handle the thought of sticking my hands into the laundry hamper and having the germs clobber me as I load the dirty clothes into the washer. Given the smelly treasure we found in the load of little boys pants we washed yesterday, I probably have good reason for that phobia. So, I put clean socks onto my hands as I reach into the hamper and throw the laundry in.Then I throw the socks in too.
Well, the dryer isn't working right now, so despite the rainy weather, we have laundry hanging from baskets, couches, chairs, and whatever else we can find all over the house while we wait for it to dry. Fun times!
... Not really. There are times when being here alone without my handyman Ryan to fix everything really stinks. Literally. After all, 7 kids create dirty laundry faster than the clean laundry can airdry. That's all I'll say.
And the last thing on my mind right now, but not the least, are my friends. My anxious heart. And my choice of self-medication. Which leads me to dinner. What???
Yes, Dinner. (Come on now, keep up with me!)
But, I'll post separately for that. This is too long already. :)
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
As you walk through the front door of my house, the window will rattle as the door slams shut, which is the only way it will close is if it is slammed. The dining table has sticky handprints and oatmeal crumbles left from breakfast. There are bowls of half eaten ramen noodles left from dinner (the third or fourth time the kids have had ramen in the past week). On the side table, there is a case of marinara sauce that has been sitting for a while now. Looking off to the left you'll see a big blue couchbed thing that has been in my family room for the past two months, waiting to be hauled downstairs. Walking into the kitchen you would think that the dishes haven't been done for a week or so... not true. They were done yesterday morning. At least I think they were. Still, the counter is full of stacks of used cereal bowls and the sink has a collection of unwashed forks, spoons, and pans.
The little breakfast room has a random and unsettling collection of grocery odds and ends yet to be put away. Cans of soup, a large package of noodles, and three number ten cans of refried beans dot the table and although you can tell we aren't starving, the question begs... why hasn't all this been put away?
The collection of coats along the pathway to the stairs leading up to the kids' rooms suggest we haven't needed them for a few days, which is true - the weather has been lovely! We won't discuss the kids rooms, or my room. Suffice it to say they could use a bit of straightening. The laundry room? Frightening.
The taxes are halfway finished, will require a long day of concentration plus one semi short visit to an accountant, and hopefully I can have them wrapped up before too long. Are they done yet? No.
Meals at my house have been haphazard at best, though Ryan did make Root Beer Pork on Sunday and our weekend guests didn't go home unfed. If the trail of half eaten bites of hot dogs leading to my bedroom or the breadcrumbs all over my bed have any tale to tell, they'd say the kids are eating well enough for now at least. The mashed berries I wiped up off my carpet today say they are getting a variety of food besides ramen too, so I won't feel too guilty, yet. Still, it's time I put together some real meals. Did I get them made today? No. Of course not.
So then if the taxes aren't done, the kids are making their own meals, the house isn't clean, and the van still hasn't been washed or vaccumed, what DID I do?
I'll tell you.
I slept in til 6:30 and then took Ryan to work in St. George. I enjoyed breakfast with my kids and curled up in bed, chilly and apparently still exhausted from yesterday. I slept, slept, and slept some more.
I rocked my baby Jonnie, who isn't much of a baby anymore, until he fell asleep in my arms. And then, I rocked him some more. I talked with Braelin while Jonnie slept, helped Ty log on to his schoolwork online, and popped onto Facebook for a bit too -- lame, I know.
I walked to get the girls from school. I talked with Tyler as we walked. I played with Jonnie on the slide. I laughed with my girls while we happily walked home. Taliesin showed me the homework he was working on, while Mercy flopped down on the blue couchbed thing to take a much needed nap. I sang the Monkey Song with Braelin. I got Jonnie some milk in his cup. And then, I went to pick up Ry and spend some time with him.
We talked, I cried. We shared Cafe Rio on the patio, and watched a movie afterward. When we came home, the kids were already sleeping, curled up in bed on time for once - just like I'd asked.
The house will get cleaned up, tomorrow probably. The groceries will get organized in the pantry, and the dishes washed and put away. I'll throw something in the crockpot before I go to work, and Ryan will make sure they get dinner when he comes home.
For today, I'm glad I didn't clean. Glad I didn't cook. No taxes got done. Instead, I enjoyed my babies... and my man.
Life is good. Sometimes messy, but life is good.
The little breakfast room has a random and unsettling collection of grocery odds and ends yet to be put away. Cans of soup, a large package of noodles, and three number ten cans of refried beans dot the table and although you can tell we aren't starving, the question begs... why hasn't all this been put away?
The collection of coats along the pathway to the stairs leading up to the kids' rooms suggest we haven't needed them for a few days, which is true - the weather has been lovely! We won't discuss the kids rooms, or my room. Suffice it to say they could use a bit of straightening. The laundry room? Frightening.
The taxes are halfway finished, will require a long day of concentration plus one semi short visit to an accountant, and hopefully I can have them wrapped up before too long. Are they done yet? No.
Meals at my house have been haphazard at best, though Ryan did make Root Beer Pork on Sunday and our weekend guests didn't go home unfed. If the trail of half eaten bites of hot dogs leading to my bedroom or the breadcrumbs all over my bed have any tale to tell, they'd say the kids are eating well enough for now at least. The mashed berries I wiped up off my carpet today say they are getting a variety of food besides ramen too, so I won't feel too guilty, yet. Still, it's time I put together some real meals. Did I get them made today? No. Of course not.
So then if the taxes aren't done, the kids are making their own meals, the house isn't clean, and the van still hasn't been washed or vaccumed, what DID I do?
I'll tell you.
I slept in til 6:30 and then took Ryan to work in St. George. I enjoyed breakfast with my kids and curled up in bed, chilly and apparently still exhausted from yesterday. I slept, slept, and slept some more.
I rocked my baby Jonnie, who isn't much of a baby anymore, until he fell asleep in my arms. And then, I rocked him some more. I talked with Braelin while Jonnie slept, helped Ty log on to his schoolwork online, and popped onto Facebook for a bit too -- lame, I know.
I walked to get the girls from school. I talked with Tyler as we walked. I played with Jonnie on the slide. I laughed with my girls while we happily walked home. Taliesin showed me the homework he was working on, while Mercy flopped down on the blue couchbed thing to take a much needed nap. I sang the Monkey Song with Braelin. I got Jonnie some milk in his cup. And then, I went to pick up Ry and spend some time with him.
We talked, I cried. We shared Cafe Rio on the patio, and watched a movie afterward. When we came home, the kids were already sleeping, curled up in bed on time for once - just like I'd asked.
The house will get cleaned up, tomorrow probably. The groceries will get organized in the pantry, and the dishes washed and put away. I'll throw something in the crockpot before I go to work, and Ryan will make sure they get dinner when he comes home.
For today, I'm glad I didn't clean. Glad I didn't cook. No taxes got done. Instead, I enjoyed my babies... and my man.
Life is good. Sometimes messy, but life is good.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Snakes and Updates
Picture this. I have a nice long sleep, finally, and get up to go take a nice hot shower. Still a little sleepy, I reach in the shower to turn on the water so it can run for a minute and get hot before I get in. But instead, just as I touch it, I also see out of the corner of my eye that there is a brownish, creepy looking thing coiled around it.
A snake.
I'll leave you to imagine what I did next.
My son Tyler is the sweetest kid. Good natured and funny, loves to make people smile. And scream too, apparently.
Now, it is no secret that I have many fears or phobias. Heights, we've already discussed here on this blog. Compared to my fear of snakes... heights are a piece of cake!
(Why do I get the feeling Shauna Rose and Kris are laughing right about now as they remember scaring me to pieces with the whole innocent sounding "Rachel, what should I do with this?" mouse incident?)
Luckily for me -- or should I say, luckily for him -- it was a fake, rubber snake he bought for Jonnie the other day. Of course, his brother had to buy it for him, since I won't buy a toy snake. Or look at snakes in books. I look at the ceiling the whole time the kids drag me through the reptile house at the zoo. The whole snake pit part of the new "True Grit" movie was just way more than I could handle and my anxiety levels went through the roof as I sat there shaking and crying. Again. I know -- I'm a freak.
So, here is a picture of Jonnie with his rescued snake... and a few more updates. You can tell I haven't taken many pictures over the last few months, luckily someone has grabbed my camera and taken a few. And sadly, have posted even fewer.
Enjoy!
Rachel
Girls at Halloween... you read about their costumes already.
Amanda and Laura tackled giving the boys haircuts. First time for both of them... the boys were less than thrilled to be their victims. I was thrilled that finally the boys hair was getting cut!
I think they turned out pretty well though, especially since neither of the girls had cut hair before :)
Taliesin was less than thrilled with his haircut.... but that's par for the course. He never likes ANY haircut.
And here is my little snake culprit with his best friend and sister, Miss Carolina.
A snake.
I'll leave you to imagine what I did next.
My son Tyler is the sweetest kid. Good natured and funny, loves to make people smile. And scream too, apparently.
Now, it is no secret that I have many fears or phobias. Heights, we've already discussed here on this blog. Compared to my fear of snakes... heights are a piece of cake!
(Why do I get the feeling Shauna Rose and Kris are laughing right about now as they remember scaring me to pieces with the whole innocent sounding "Rachel, what should I do with this?" mouse incident?)
Luckily for me -- or should I say, luckily for him -- it was a fake, rubber snake he bought for Jonnie the other day. Of course, his brother had to buy it for him, since I won't buy a toy snake. Or look at snakes in books. I look at the ceiling the whole time the kids drag me through the reptile house at the zoo. The whole snake pit part of the new "True Grit" movie was just way more than I could handle and my anxiety levels went through the roof as I sat there shaking and crying. Again. I know -- I'm a freak.
So, here is a picture of Jonnie with his rescued snake... and a few more updates. You can tell I haven't taken many pictures over the last few months, luckily someone has grabbed my camera and taken a few. And sadly, have posted even fewer.
Enjoy!
Rachel
Girls at Halloween... you read about their costumes already.
Amanda and Laura tackled giving the boys haircuts. First time for both of them... the boys were less than thrilled to be their victims. I was thrilled that finally the boys hair was getting cut!
 |
| Can you tell how thrilled he is? |
 |
| Tyler also bought Jonnie this new teddy bear. What a sweetie! |
Changes
Last year, for me, was a year of healing. This year, feels like it will be a year of change. Not just for my life, but for many of my friends and family too. Not that last year wasn't full of changes... it definitely was.
One of the changes, and one that has spurred me being open to more change, is cancer. A few weeks ago when I couldn't sleep so I posted on my blog... that is the biggest thing that was weighing on my heart, but I couldn't face it enough to write about it and process it through.
My friend and sister in law Val has cancer. This isn't new news to most of you reading this. She had a second surgery to remove her thyroid, and faces radiation and treatment. Everything should turn out fine, it is a very "treatable" cancer, as far as cancer goes. But still -- it just brings everything into perspective to face something like that. And if cancer, if the thought of losing Val, brings everything into perspective to me... I can only imagine what it has been like for her.
I hope this year is a year of healing for Val.
I cried at the drop of a hat for a couple weeks. I'm emotional, I know. I told Ryan that I just wanted to move back to Salt Lake. I want to be close to his Mom. I want to be close to the people that have stood by me through the years and never wavered their love and friendship. I want to be there to support Joe's family as they go through some difficult and trying times both now, and ahead. I want to be there with everyone while their family is still mostly all together before their teenagers move into adulthood and build their own lives.
I also want Ryan home with us each night. When we moved here, it felt like home. It felt like we had moved to a place we could stay for many years. I felt immediately surrounded by friends. And some of those friends even felt like family, for a little while. But now, it doesn't feel much like home anymore.
Ryan's gone. And I'm at home when I'm with him.
Maybe I've just adapted to his "flexible" way of living life. Maybe I've come to thrive on change just like he does. Maybe I just don't want to stay in one place and face the changes that have come in different friendships. Maybe I'm just looking for the golden answer for us financially, when really there isn't one. Maybe I'm just so worn out and tired.
Maybe. But really, I just miss him.
I love you Ry.
No plans to move back to Salt Lake, or anywhere else, yet. We'll see what life brings us. Mostly we're just in waiting mode, seeing where the next week takes us in our lives, and then the week after that. Obviously we have a family to feed, and new shoes the kids all need, and obligations to pay, and all of that plays a part. We can't just up and move without taking some of that into consideration. On the other hand we can't just have him come home and stay home without taking some of that into consideration. And so, I began to stress out about some of the decisions we have to make the other night, had a fitful night tossing and only have sleeping (which is NOT good when you have to be to work at 3am the next day!) I decided to listen to some scriptures on audiobook so I turned on the Book of Mormon. 3rd Nephi and Moroni are always my favorites to read, and as I lay there listening, I heard the part in chapter 13 and 14 where the Savior is teaching the people.
"For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."...
"Therefore I say unto you, take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on."...
"Consider the lilies of the field how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin; And yet I say unto you, that even Solomon, in all his glory, was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is cast into the oven, even so will he clothe you, if ye are not of little faith."...
"...your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need... but seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you."
And then later...
"Or what man is there of you, who, if his son ask bread, will give him a stone? Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent? If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father who is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?"
Well, I laid there awake long enough to get to chapter 13, and that was after I had already been tossing and turning. There really was a good reason for that headache I had!
But after that, I finally fell asleep and I've felt so much more calm about everything since.
Thank you Father, for taking care of us, and for loving us.
One of the changes, and one that has spurred me being open to more change, is cancer. A few weeks ago when I couldn't sleep so I posted on my blog... that is the biggest thing that was weighing on my heart, but I couldn't face it enough to write about it and process it through.
My friend and sister in law Val has cancer. This isn't new news to most of you reading this. She had a second surgery to remove her thyroid, and faces radiation and treatment. Everything should turn out fine, it is a very "treatable" cancer, as far as cancer goes. But still -- it just brings everything into perspective to face something like that. And if cancer, if the thought of losing Val, brings everything into perspective to me... I can only imagine what it has been like for her.
I hope this year is a year of healing for Val.
I cried at the drop of a hat for a couple weeks. I'm emotional, I know. I told Ryan that I just wanted to move back to Salt Lake. I want to be close to his Mom. I want to be close to the people that have stood by me through the years and never wavered their love and friendship. I want to be there to support Joe's family as they go through some difficult and trying times both now, and ahead. I want to be there with everyone while their family is still mostly all together before their teenagers move into adulthood and build their own lives.
I also want Ryan home with us each night. When we moved here, it felt like home. It felt like we had moved to a place we could stay for many years. I felt immediately surrounded by friends. And some of those friends even felt like family, for a little while. But now, it doesn't feel much like home anymore.
Ryan's gone. And I'm at home when I'm with him.
Maybe I've just adapted to his "flexible" way of living life. Maybe I've come to thrive on change just like he does. Maybe I just don't want to stay in one place and face the changes that have come in different friendships. Maybe I'm just looking for the golden answer for us financially, when really there isn't one. Maybe I'm just so worn out and tired.
Maybe. But really, I just miss him.
I love you Ry.
No plans to move back to Salt Lake, or anywhere else, yet. We'll see what life brings us. Mostly we're just in waiting mode, seeing where the next week takes us in our lives, and then the week after that. Obviously we have a family to feed, and new shoes the kids all need, and obligations to pay, and all of that plays a part. We can't just up and move without taking some of that into consideration. On the other hand we can't just have him come home and stay home without taking some of that into consideration. And so, I began to stress out about some of the decisions we have to make the other night, had a fitful night tossing and only have sleeping (which is NOT good when you have to be to work at 3am the next day!) I decided to listen to some scriptures on audiobook so I turned on the Book of Mormon. 3rd Nephi and Moroni are always my favorites to read, and as I lay there listening, I heard the part in chapter 13 and 14 where the Savior is teaching the people.
"For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."...
"Therefore I say unto you, take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on."...
"Consider the lilies of the field how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin; And yet I say unto you, that even Solomon, in all his glory, was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is cast into the oven, even so will he clothe you, if ye are not of little faith."...
"...your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need... but seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you."
And then later...
"Or what man is there of you, who, if his son ask bread, will give him a stone? Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent? If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father who is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?"
Well, I laid there awake long enough to get to chapter 13, and that was after I had already been tossing and turning. There really was a good reason for that headache I had!
But after that, I finally fell asleep and I've felt so much more calm about everything since.
Thank you Father, for taking care of us, and for loving us.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Gingerbread and Snowmen
The holiday season was busy, as I'm sure it was for all of you. The day after I got back from Kansas, I started a new job working in the deli at the local grocery store. What started out as a part time job quickly turned to full time hours as two of their full timers went on extended sick leave. When I wasn't at work, I was busy at home make the holidays sweet and special for my kiddos.
A large part of my Christmas memories include staying home from school the week before Christmas, making cookies and other crafts with Mom. She taught me how to make Gingerbread Cookie dough, and Sour Cream Cookie dough. Then we would roll them out, cut them out, and later decorate them. After trying to roll out Sour Cream Cookies into giant snowmen cookies and decorating them with my kids for neighbor gifts this year, I'm pretty sure that what I remember as excited children all having fun cutting out cookies looked or felt more like mayhem to my Mom. I'm sure she had fun too... she was that kind of a Mom, and obviously she kept on doing them with us from year to year, but doing them with my kids this year made me appreciate her even more. She let us have the rolling pin, cut the cookies out, place them on the baking sheets, guiding us rather than doing it all herself while we watched.
I'm convinced that bakers everywhere, after tasting a properly made, soft and moist Sour Cream Cookie topped with Cream Cheese Frosting, would abandon all other sugar cookie recipes. There isn't a better roll-out cookie dough recipe than Mom's Sour Cream Cookies. Unfortunately, her Gingerbread Cookie Recipe didn't fare so well. The dough was delicious. The rich, full flavor of molasses and ginger is still one of my favorites, and gingerbread cookies are as much a part of Christmas to me as the tree and presents. We would make the dough, wait impatiently while it set up in the refrigerator, roll them out and bake them. But after decorating them, the fun was over. They were tough, hard, and nearly inedible. Still, when I found Mom's original recipe cards years later, I snagged both cookie dough cards and saved them til I could make them with my own kids.
After yet another batch of unedible gingerbread cookies while living in Duchesne, I finally decided it was time to research other recipes and see what could be done to make them edible. Funny, Mom's recipe was identical to the one I found on America's Test Kitchen website. Except hers was missing a couple key ingredients like butter and soda. Perhaps it wasn't the original recipe card but instead a hastily transcribed version, sans a few important ingredients. For the first time, I tasted real gingerbread cookies. Delicious! My friend and neighbor Jackie Johanson got a plate of tiny, soft gingerbread bells and stars topped with melt-in-your-mouth cream cheese frosting with hint of maple. Good thing I sent them to her, or I would have eaten them all myself.
Another Christmas memory I have is of Mom sewing. She sewed every year, but one that I remember most was the dolls she made us. I remember watching her sewing a dark pink, perfectly stitched, round nose and then later seeing it attached to the dolls she gave to Danielle and I. Big, wide faces of cloth, with big eyes, noses, and mouths all hand stitched. Sadly, I must have been enchanted with makeup at one point because I ruined the doll after applying blush to her cheeks with a purple marker.
And, I sewed this year too. Yep! Me, sewing. It's been a while, but I was pretty excited to use the 1954 green machine I bought at a garage sale. Sadly it died on me before I was able to get the girls dresses sewn, but I did finish the homemade stockings at least. A few long nights sewing to the wee hours of the morning and several stockings later... the machine all of a sudden started grinding gears together and stopped moving. All that I had planned for the rest of my nephews and nieces and friends were going to have to wait for another year.
I hope they all had fun getting the stockings as I did getting them ready. They were made of sweaters and a wool coat, bought at the thrift store and used for fabric. Turned out pretty cute I think! Sadly, all the pictures are on Ry's phone, so I'll have to update you later...
The night before we headed up to Salt Lake, we made Rice Krispie snowmen. Fun, fun, fun. Too bad they turned out "socially unacceptable" and looking like abominable snow babies. They were supposed to be our gifts to each of the Dutton Family... plus gifts for the remaining neighbors and siblings who were missing out on stockings. Fun to make with kids though. We'll have to try again another year...
Here are the cookie recipes... I hope you enjoy making sweet holiday memories as much as I did. I think next year my siblings are all going to get a plate of soft gingerbread cookies and a recipe card.
Thanks Mom, for making the holidays sweet.
America's Test Kitchen GINGERBREAD COOKIE recipe
Combine:
3 cups flour
3/4 cup brown sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon ginger
1/2 teaspoon cloves
1/2 teaspoon salt
3/4 teaspoon soda
Add and mix til it resembles fine meal:
12 Tablespoons of butter, cut into 1 Tablespoon pats.
Gradually add while mixing:
3/4 cup molasses
2 Tablespoons milk
Divide dough into smaller portions and roll between two sheets of parchment paper to 1/4" thickness. Refrigerate 15 minutes until well chilled and firm. (If you don't have parchment paper, you can refrigerated the tightly wrapped ball of dough for 2 hours before rolling onto a surface sprayed with cooking spray. (Do not flour the surface or your gingerbread will be dry.)
Cut out the desired shapes and bake on 350 degrees for 8-11 minutes.
Bake til set in center and a touch of the finger barely leaves an imprint.
Cool them on the tray for a few minutes before transferring to a cooling rack.
I like to make some small cookies and top them with Cream Cheese Frosting to which I have added a drop or two of Maple Extract. Remember, the key to Cream Cheese Frosting is to whip it for ten minutes until it is nice and fluffy.
MOM'S SOUR CREAM COOKIES
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 cup sour cream
1/2 cup butter or shortening
2 eggs
1-2 teaspoons vanilla
1/2-1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons baking powder
4 1/4 cups unsifted flour
Mix sugar, shortening, and eggs. Beat until fluffy. Add vanilla, sour cream, and soda. Mix well. Stir in flour, baking poder, and salt. Divide in half. Chill 1 hour. Roll to 3/16" on lightly floured board. But,. Bake on greased sheet at 35 degrees 5-7 minutes. DO NOT BROWN. (4 dozen cookies)
Rachel's notes:
The recipe is written above just how Mom had it. I always withhold the extra 1/4 cup of flour. If the dough is quite sticky, add it. If the dough is just a bit sticky, don't add it. One day I'm going to weigh this recipe out so I can get it just right every time... til then, we'll have to do with cup measurements. I usually use both teaspoons of vanilla for flavor, and around 3/4 teaspoon of salt. The most important parts of this recipe are not to overmix the dough and not to overcook the cookies. It should be thoroughly mixed, but not overmixed or they will not be light and fluffly. And they cook fast! Overcooked cookies will be dry. Undercooked will have a heavy center. Perfectly cooked will be moist and delicious. Do a test batch or two to guage how they will be in your oven.
And last but not least... I chill this dough for 15 minutes, and then roll it between parchment paper or plastic wrap, then chill in the freezer for 15 minutes. I never use the floured surface.
A large part of my Christmas memories include staying home from school the week before Christmas, making cookies and other crafts with Mom. She taught me how to make Gingerbread Cookie dough, and Sour Cream Cookie dough. Then we would roll them out, cut them out, and later decorate them. After trying to roll out Sour Cream Cookies into giant snowmen cookies and decorating them with my kids for neighbor gifts this year, I'm pretty sure that what I remember as excited children all having fun cutting out cookies looked or felt more like mayhem to my Mom. I'm sure she had fun too... she was that kind of a Mom, and obviously she kept on doing them with us from year to year, but doing them with my kids this year made me appreciate her even more. She let us have the rolling pin, cut the cookies out, place them on the baking sheets, guiding us rather than doing it all herself while we watched.
I'm convinced that bakers everywhere, after tasting a properly made, soft and moist Sour Cream Cookie topped with Cream Cheese Frosting, would abandon all other sugar cookie recipes. There isn't a better roll-out cookie dough recipe than Mom's Sour Cream Cookies. Unfortunately, her Gingerbread Cookie Recipe didn't fare so well. The dough was delicious. The rich, full flavor of molasses and ginger is still one of my favorites, and gingerbread cookies are as much a part of Christmas to me as the tree and presents. We would make the dough, wait impatiently while it set up in the refrigerator, roll them out and bake them. But after decorating them, the fun was over. They were tough, hard, and nearly inedible. Still, when I found Mom's original recipe cards years later, I snagged both cookie dough cards and saved them til I could make them with my own kids.
After yet another batch of unedible gingerbread cookies while living in Duchesne, I finally decided it was time to research other recipes and see what could be done to make them edible. Funny, Mom's recipe was identical to the one I found on America's Test Kitchen website. Except hers was missing a couple key ingredients like butter and soda. Perhaps it wasn't the original recipe card but instead a hastily transcribed version, sans a few important ingredients. For the first time, I tasted real gingerbread cookies. Delicious! My friend and neighbor Jackie Johanson got a plate of tiny, soft gingerbread bells and stars topped with melt-in-your-mouth cream cheese frosting with hint of maple. Good thing I sent them to her, or I would have eaten them all myself.
Another Christmas memory I have is of Mom sewing. She sewed every year, but one that I remember most was the dolls she made us. I remember watching her sewing a dark pink, perfectly stitched, round nose and then later seeing it attached to the dolls she gave to Danielle and I. Big, wide faces of cloth, with big eyes, noses, and mouths all hand stitched. Sadly, I must have been enchanted with makeup at one point because I ruined the doll after applying blush to her cheeks with a purple marker.
And, I sewed this year too. Yep! Me, sewing. It's been a while, but I was pretty excited to use the 1954 green machine I bought at a garage sale. Sadly it died on me before I was able to get the girls dresses sewn, but I did finish the homemade stockings at least. A few long nights sewing to the wee hours of the morning and several stockings later... the machine all of a sudden started grinding gears together and stopped moving. All that I had planned for the rest of my nephews and nieces and friends were going to have to wait for another year.
I hope they all had fun getting the stockings as I did getting them ready. They were made of sweaters and a wool coat, bought at the thrift store and used for fabric. Turned out pretty cute I think! Sadly, all the pictures are on Ry's phone, so I'll have to update you later...
The night before we headed up to Salt Lake, we made Rice Krispie snowmen. Fun, fun, fun. Too bad they turned out "socially unacceptable" and looking like abominable snow babies. They were supposed to be our gifts to each of the Dutton Family... plus gifts for the remaining neighbors and siblings who were missing out on stockings. Fun to make with kids though. We'll have to try again another year...
Here are the cookie recipes... I hope you enjoy making sweet holiday memories as much as I did. I think next year my siblings are all going to get a plate of soft gingerbread cookies and a recipe card.
Thanks Mom, for making the holidays sweet.
America's Test Kitchen GINGERBREAD COOKIE recipe
Combine:
3 cups flour
3/4 cup brown sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon ginger
1/2 teaspoon cloves
1/2 teaspoon salt
3/4 teaspoon soda
Add and mix til it resembles fine meal:
12 Tablespoons of butter, cut into 1 Tablespoon pats.
Gradually add while mixing:
3/4 cup molasses
2 Tablespoons milk
Divide dough into smaller portions and roll between two sheets of parchment paper to 1/4" thickness. Refrigerate 15 minutes until well chilled and firm. (If you don't have parchment paper, you can refrigerated the tightly wrapped ball of dough for 2 hours before rolling onto a surface sprayed with cooking spray. (Do not flour the surface or your gingerbread will be dry.)
Cut out the desired shapes and bake on 350 degrees for 8-11 minutes.
Bake til set in center and a touch of the finger barely leaves an imprint.
Cool them on the tray for a few minutes before transferring to a cooling rack.
I like to make some small cookies and top them with Cream Cheese Frosting to which I have added a drop or two of Maple Extract. Remember, the key to Cream Cheese Frosting is to whip it for ten minutes until it is nice and fluffy.
MOM'S SOUR CREAM COOKIES
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 cup sour cream
1/2 cup butter or shortening
2 eggs
1-2 teaspoons vanilla
1/2-1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons baking powder
4 1/4 cups unsifted flour
Mix sugar, shortening, and eggs. Beat until fluffy. Add vanilla, sour cream, and soda. Mix well. Stir in flour, baking poder, and salt. Divide in half. Chill 1 hour. Roll to 3/16" on lightly floured board. But,. Bake on greased sheet at 35 degrees 5-7 minutes. DO NOT BROWN. (4 dozen cookies)
Rachel's notes:
The recipe is written above just how Mom had it. I always withhold the extra 1/4 cup of flour. If the dough is quite sticky, add it. If the dough is just a bit sticky, don't add it. One day I'm going to weigh this recipe out so I can get it just right every time... til then, we'll have to do with cup measurements. I usually use both teaspoons of vanilla for flavor, and around 3/4 teaspoon of salt. The most important parts of this recipe are not to overmix the dough and not to overcook the cookies. It should be thoroughly mixed, but not overmixed or they will not be light and fluffly. And they cook fast! Overcooked cookies will be dry. Undercooked will have a heavy center. Perfectly cooked will be moist and delicious. Do a test batch or two to guage how they will be in your oven.
And last but not least... I chill this dough for 15 minutes, and then roll it between parchment paper or plastic wrap, then chill in the freezer for 15 minutes. I never use the floured surface.
Jonnie Cake
Sleep eludes me tonight. My heart is full. A bit of joy, anguish, heartache, love, and missing Ryan all combined I guess. Eliza asked me where my blog went, and so I decided rather than lay there tossing and turning, I'd write it out, catch you up on my life lately, and some of the things that have been in my heart through the holidays. It's either that, or an overdose of Benadryl to knock me out. I think this is the healthier way to medicate :)
But first, a cute story that I want to remember later. Facebookers already heard about it... but here it is anyway.
Earlier this evening, little Jonnie found a box of cake mix and asked me if he could "buy it." I said yes, and a few minutes later he came back with a fork and tried to poke the box open. That didn't work, so he trotted off to get a spoon. No luck.
Next he came back with a butter knife, trying to stab it open. Mean old Mom is watching him, laughing. He hands everything to me, telling me to open it. I tried stabbing the box and said "it won't work!" He finally decided the butterknife wasn't going to do the trick because a couple minutes later he comes back with a small sharp knife from the kitchen, takes the box from me, and starts stabbing the box top with it. When I asked him where he got it he said "at school." Keep in mind the kid is barely two.
Ten minutes later, with Mom watching closely so that he didn't get hurt in the process, he succeeded in getting the flap open and the cake mix out. Each movement sent a puff of cake mix all over my bedroom floor as it escaped from one of the many holes he had stabbed through the bag. He handed it to me, ran back to the kitchen, and brought me back a plate for his cake.
Off to the store we went to buy eggs so we could make a Jonnie Cake. He's such a fun kid! Two years old with long-ish tousled hair. He reminds me so much of my Dad sometimes. Not sure why...
I think I'll post separately on a few things. Probably easier for me to process that way.
But first, a cute story that I want to remember later. Facebookers already heard about it... but here it is anyway.
Earlier this evening, little Jonnie found a box of cake mix and asked me if he could "buy it." I said yes, and a few minutes later he came back with a fork and tried to poke the box open. That didn't work, so he trotted off to get a spoon. No luck.
Next he came back with a butter knife, trying to stab it open. Mean old Mom is watching him, laughing. He hands everything to me, telling me to open it. I tried stabbing the box and said "it won't work!" He finally decided the butterknife wasn't going to do the trick because a couple minutes later he comes back with a small sharp knife from the kitchen, takes the box from me, and starts stabbing the box top with it. When I asked him where he got it he said "at school." Keep in mind the kid is barely two.
Ten minutes later, with Mom watching closely so that he didn't get hurt in the process, he succeeded in getting the flap open and the cake mix out. Each movement sent a puff of cake mix all over my bedroom floor as it escaped from one of the many holes he had stabbed through the bag. He handed it to me, ran back to the kitchen, and brought me back a plate for his cake.
Off to the store we went to buy eggs so we could make a Jonnie Cake. He's such a fun kid! Two years old with long-ish tousled hair. He reminds me so much of my Dad sometimes. Not sure why...
I think I'll post separately on a few things. Probably easier for me to process that way.
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