and then there were four…

I did it! I wrote a post every day for the month of November. I feel pretty good about that. We’ll see how this translates for the rest of the year. Right now, I am trying to focus on getting some Christmas shopping done, photos taken for the Christmas card, and putting the tree up. This will happen next weekend. This weekend was gloriously lazy and wonderful.

I’m gonna go and finish wrapping some presents I must get in the mail early this week to make it to some of my relatives in time for an annual get-together, so I’m gonna make this short.

Thanks for reading–even when it was boring.

Active dreaming begins during the toddler years and I’ve recently started noticing signs that Olivia is actually remembering hers. “Noticing signs” would be one way to describe it, waking up terrified and crying would be another.

A few nights ago I was aroused from sleep around 4 a.m. by Olivia crying out like she was very scared. I ran into her room and she was shaking: from fear or from crying so hard, I do not know–I don’t think it matters in the least, fact is that she was shaking something fierce. I scooped her up and started consoling her, telling her all was okay, asking her if she had a bad dream, and she said “yeaaasssssss”. She was breaking my heart, so I changed her diaper and told her I would “rockrock” her and turn the light out. Normally this is enough, but this morning she had to have daddy come in and “blow” the light out (our nightly ritual) before she would let me rock her and before she would calm down. Bill said that he doesn’t think she went to bed at all, because he heard her talking to herself an hour or so later. This I am not so sure about, but she was exhausted the next morning, so it is quite possible.

Today, we put her down for a nap and two hours later she woke up crying, telling Bill that “the man was caught in the tree.” He assured her that it was a dream, and she came out into the living room, repeating “the man was caught in the tree.”

I sat her down and explained that she had just had a dream and dreams where what happened when we went to sleep and our imagination just kept going. I also reiterated that none of it was real, it was just like when she imagined the ham on her hand was a ladybug (true story) or the big pillow was a tasty meatball (also true). She seemed to understand this and enjoyed the idea of her “ee-madge-uh-nay-shun” taking over when she slept.

It seems silly, but you feel kind of helpless when you can protect your baby from her bad dreams. You don’t want her to feel scared, even if it is in her dreams.

Tonight, when I put her to bed, I gently rubbed her head and said I was giving her good dreams and she looked up at me and said “yeah”, as if she knew I wouldn’t let her down, or that I had that power. I wish I did, but here’s hoping it helps.

This past week, we had been gearing Olivia up for Thanksgiving. Trying to explain Thanksgiving to a 2-year old is not the easiest task. We read her a book on the subject (Blue’s Thanksgiving Feast) and she watched a Blue’s Clues Thanksgiving episode. Plus Moose & Zee sang about Thanksgiving, A LOT. She was really excited about the sweet potatoes and turkey. It’s a start.

As we were hanging out Thanksgiving morning, getting ourselves ready to go over to Bill’s grandparent’s house, Olivia looked at Bill and I and said “Baby fankful for playing with toys in my room.” We had a good laugh and told her that was a nice thing to be thankful for. I told her I was thankful for her, Sophia and daddy. Then, under my breath, I said “and Sophia is thankful for mommy’s boobies.” Bill heard me and laughed, as I was paying homage to my all-time favorite TV show (Friends). We got ourselves ready and out the door.

As we were driving, Olivia said “I am fankful for playing with toys in my room, and building blocks.” “That’s nice, baby.” I said. “And Sophia is fankful for mama’s boobies.” She added, laughing hysterically.

They hear EVERYTHING–parents beware. I couldn’t help but laugh, because, let’s face it, that’s pretty damn hilarious. Bill chastised me, but I figured, after some of the things he’s taught her, I’m owed one pass.

At dinnertime I wanted Olivia to tell everyone what she was thankful for, and she looked at me and proclaimed, “I am fankful for FOOD!” and she started giggling and took a big bite of her roll. Yeah, she’s definitely our kid.

Tonight, we were eating turkey noodle soup (and it was good), with grilled cheese sandwiches and as Olivia was eating she looked over at me and said “Mama, I’m fankful for having plenty of food.” Her little face smiled at me and I almost fell over. Where she heard that, I’ll never know, but it made me so proud that she seemingly gets the concept. I smiled at her and told her what a sweet girl she was, and how right she was to be thankful for that.

I’m extremely thankful.

Hope your turkey day was delicious! Ours was. I’m exhausted, so this is all you’re getting.

I try too hard sometimes to be everything to everyone. I want to be a good mother, wife, sister, daughter, friend, friendly stranger, driver, shopper, etc. I want to be good for everyone. I never want anyone to think badly of me. I don’t think this is entirely healthy.

This is not to say that it isn’t good to be a good person, but I think when you put yourself out there so much, striving to be this perfect person for everyone, you are no longer good to yourself because it is an impossible goal. No one is perfect.

Because I am constantly second guessing my actions and what the resulting outcome could be, I forget to make myself happy. I’m so tired of doing this, but I don’t know how to stop. I don’t know how to stop putting everyone else and their feelings first, and my feelings last. It’s frustrating.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to say that I am a saint. I’m not. It’s just that I am constantly worrying about repercussions of every single thing I do. I worry about what I write here, because I know who reads this blog, I worry about what I say because I know how much words can sting someone. I worry about what I wear because I don’t want to offend people, I worry how my children may be a bit loud in a public place and make someone else uncomfortable. It’s fucking ridiculous. That’s right: FUCKING RIDICULOUS.

It’s causing me to think there is something inherently wrong with me.

There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m a good mother, wife, friend, daughter and sister. Provided I’m not being nasty or vile to someone else, it shouldn’t matter what I say. If you love me, you’ll call me out on it when I hurt you, or you’ll decide never to talk to me again. Right? But, I can’t allow that to happen, because, I don’t want to hurt anyone. I never want anyone to feel any type of pain or hurt because of something I have done.

I guess that is the root of it all. I don’t want anyone to feel ashamed, embarrassed, hurt, pushed aside, neglected, not good enough, not smart enough, etc. etc. It sucks. I don’t to cause anyone that kind of pain. Even when I have been hurt, I never speak up, because I don’t want to upset that person (yes, that’s right, the one who hurt me). It’s a sick, sick cycle.

I guess that is why I am always arguing my point. I can argue because I’m taking an ideal, topic, or something that is not really tangible and arguing it. I’m not attacking a person, I’m attacking something. I can argue and vent my frustrations without attacking someone personally. It’s extremely passive, to be sure. Also, I feel like if I argue well enough, my point of view may be taken into consideration.

I wish I wouldn’t wear my heart on my sleeve. My only real obligation in life is to be a good mother. My children are the only people I owe anything to. I need to remember that.

Sophia has been rolling from back to tummy since Friday. She’s really good at it and we can no longer lay her on her back for any period of time, because she immediately goes into her roll. Her little play mat is no longer enough to satisfy her, so I brought her quilt out so she had more room to roll.

Today I was taking pictures of her rolling–because I am trying to document all of these milestones (even if I am 4 days late). Well, Olivia decided she needed to show me how she could roll too.

“Mama, I can roll over too!” she said, quite proud of herself.

“I know you can, you’re a big girl! Do you want mama to move Sophia off of the blanket and take pictures of you rolling?”

“YES!” she squeals and shows her stuff, happy I am taking pictures of her rolling too.

Maybe it was just a slight case of jealousy, but I feel I diffused the situation quite nicely.

Go me!

Thanks to Rachel for reminding me that I could use the ham broth when I make rice. I do sometimes use chicken broth in my rice, so it won’t be such a giant leap to use the ham broth. I’ll let you know how it turns out.

Okay. I’m on a recipe roll, so bear with me. Bill said to me the other day, “You know what you should make? Peanut Butter chocolate chip cookies, I bet they would be good.” So, I searched, found a recipe and let me just say, for the record: DAMN these are good cookies. It’s like a reese’s cup in cookie form.

Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies From Heaven

I did change it around, (because when do I not?). 2 1/2 cups of flour and 1 1/4 cup of peanut butter. A lot of people recommended you do it this way, and I can’t say they were wrong. You may also need to increase your cooking time to about 13 minutes. All ovens are different, so you can always start at the ten minute time and if they are a bit underdone cook a few minutes more. They are AWESOME the second day. Not as good hot out of the oven as a plain chocolate chip cookie. I guess you have to let them sit so all the peanut buttery goodness will have time to really come out.

As Olivia would say, “So nummy.”

Now I’m gonna go spend the rest of the evening being lazy. It feels like that kind of night.

I had a big ham bone left. I didn’t want it to go to waste.

I put it in my crockpot, along with an onion, some carrots, celery, peppercorns, and a bay leaf then I covered it with water. I put it on low overnight and now I have ham broth.

What do I do with ham broth?

No seriously. Do you know?

Seriously. I want to have a whole bunch of them so I can always have one available to do my bidding.

Tonight I decided to do a test run on one of our Thanksgiving recipes. I wanted to see if it would work out in the crockpot. I figured it would save us room in the oven, and it would be a dish I could just forget about while it cooked away.

The dish in question? Sweet potatoes. And man, oh man, did they come out even better than I remembered them tasting on any prior Thanksgiving. Definitely a crockpot keeper.

Many years ago, when I first started cooking Thanksgiving dinner with Bill’s aunt, she found a recipe that was an instant hit. The only complaint was that there were no marshmallows on top. Granted, you COULD add them, but they are so good we never do. Bill usually gets over it and loves them anyway.

So this is my interpretation of our Thanksgiving classic. I dunno where she found the recipe, but we’ve changed it around so much that I think it is now the intellectual property of our family anyway. But, if someone reads this and decides they created it first, by all means, let me know. I’ll gladly give credit where credit is due.  Because these mo’fos are awesome.

4-5 large sweet potatoes
2-3 granny smith apples (You can use any type, but I think the granny smith give it an added zing)
2-3 Tablespoons of butter (don’t worry, you can use more if you want)
1/2 cup apple juice
1/2 cup packed brown sugar
Spices (to taste): Cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice and/or ginger

Peel and slice the sweet potatoes into 1/4 inch slices. Peel, core and slice the apples into 1/4 slices.
Mix together the brown sugar and all the spices. Start with a sweet potato layer, then an apple layer in your crockpot. After each sweet potato/apple layer sprinkle a bit of the brown sugar/spice mix. You should end with a layer of sweet potatoes. Sprinkle the remainder of the brown sugar/spice mix on top of the last layer. Don’t worry if you run out of the mix. Make more! (see, this recipe is easy) If you want more sweetness, add more of the sugar/spice mixture and vice versa if you want less. You can’t mess this up.  Cut the butter up into small pieces and sprinkle over the top. Again, depending on your preference, you can add more or less butter. Pour the 1/2 cup all over the top of the layered dish. Cover and set your crockpot on high. Since crockpots can be different, check often, but mine was perfect after 2 1/2 hours, and even more “melty in your mouthy” after 3.

If you do not want to make this in your crockpot, you can do it the way we’ve always done it in years past: in your oven. You’ll just have to parboil the sweet potatoes first and then layer in a baking dish and cook at about 350 for 30 minutes or so. The Crockpot is easier because you don’t have to cook them first and you can just cut everything up raw and leave it alone for a few hours while you do the other holiday stuff. Also, I think the potatoes are more buttery tasting when done in the crockpot. However, even in the oven this is the best sweet potato recipe around.

And if you must have the marshmallows on top, throw em up there and broil for a few minutes to get them melty. Add them the last five minutes or so if you do it in the oven.  Don’t put them in the crockpot while cooking. I don’t know what will happen. On second thought: do it and then report back. What’s the worst thing that will happen? I don’t think you can screw this up.

Happy Crockpotting!

Sophia rolled from her back to her tummy today at 18 weeks, 2 days old. I missed the first time, I was talking to my mom (it was about 3:45 or so) and I had placed her on her play mat on her back, when I looked back she was on her tummy. I thought I might be going crazy, but sure enough, she’s recreated the magical moment for us all evening long.

Now I have to go out and buy some more mini DV tapes so I can record it.