You know, the time I passed out at Walmart and the lessons learned thereof

Back when I was 8 months pregnant with Lily, I had super low blood pressure issues.  Every single time I was on my feet for more than five minutes I'd black out.  It was the epitome of torture for me.  I had to do my makeup as I sat on the floor.  I had to cook dinner in spurts.  I watched TV for a better part of the day because I had very little options as to what I could do while sitting down.

One day I had had enough.  And little stubborn me decided that a quick shopping trip wouldn't be so bad.  I got in my car, drove down 2nd East to Walmart and took my time.  I loved being able to get out of my apartment.  I took too long and I started losing my vision.  I pushed my shopping cart to the middle of the women's clothing department to hide while I crouched down until I could see again.  When I felt better, I kept walking.  I lost my sight again.  Over and over I went through this cycle because I was being stubborn and telling myself that I was "strong enough" to overcome it.  I didn't realize at the time that I was just being stupid. 

It got to the point when I was able to admit to myself that I needed to check out, and fast.  I took my cart to the cashier, tried to be patient as the guy ahead of me slowly signed his name on the signature pad, and just as he was leaving and I was able to put my items on the conveyor belt I said to the cashier, "Can you hold these for me?"  She looked at me as if I was insane, and that was the last thing I remember before I passed out. 

When I woke up a few Walmart employees were around me and a woman who I recognized from the next aisle came running over to me.  She informed me that she was a labor and delivery nurse at Madison Memorial and she was wondering if I was in labor.  "Nope, I'm 8 months pregnant.  I just passed out is all."  She squatted down next to me and started asking me a bunch of questions and propped my feet up on my shopping cart while another Walmart employee put a plastic covered pillow under my head.  Yep.  It was fabulous.  8 month pregnant me lying down in the check out aisle with my legs up in the air.  It's probably just how you imagine it.  I was sipping on the bottle of orange juice she pulled out of the nearby refrigerator when I said, "I'm feeling a lot better now.  I think I'm going to check out."  She gave me that "over my dead body" look and told me to call Ben.  I hadn't even thought of it. 

So I called him up, told him of my present circumstances, and even though he was working at the time he said he was on his way.  A coworker dropped him off at Walmart and Ben took me home.

What I didn't mention was that Ben was being paid hourly and we needed the money.  I also vividly remember him being covered in mud since he was working for Rexburg's water department and he was constantly fixing pipes in the ground. 

But none of that mattered.  I made a mistake and Ben was there to pull me out of it.  I've made a lot of mistakes since then, and Ben has been there to pull me out of them.  In turn, Ben has made his share of mistakes, and I've been there to pull him out of them.  The cycle goes on and on and on. 

I'm sure you've all heard that "Disney movies gave me unrealistic expectations about love."  For me, that's true.  I expected something else entirely when I got married, but little by little, I get to see more of why this whole marriage thing is so important for growth, especially when it's not perfect.  When I count my blessings now, I count the trials that sit there beside them making those blessings possible.  Ben and I have been through a thick, muddy path of trials, many of which aren't on this blog because who wants to read about all the mistakes someone has made?  Not me. 

Sometimes I sit back and wonder what it would be like to marry someone perfect.  The answer is this: it would be the epitome of torture.  Like, worse than when I was stuck on the couch.  I would be so embarrassed every time I made a mistake.  I would always be looking over my shoulder every time I repeat a bad habit.  I don't think I'd be very happy.  I'm just glad to have Ben who doesn't mind putting on weight with me and splurging money on something we probably shouldn't be spending it on.  So kudos to all y'all who don't have perfect spouses. I don't either, and I'm not one myself. And that in itself is a very beautiful thing.

Writing

These pictures have absolutely NOTHING to do with this post.  I would just like to record that Halloween did indeed happen here.  Plus blog posts are always nicer when they have pictures to accompany them, true?

*Major shout out to my super fabulous SIL April who invented the "Drill Your Pumpkin To Death To Make It The Coolest Pumpkin On The Block" method.  Thanks for letting me steal your idea.  I wasn't kidding last year when I said I'd actually do it.  Also mad props to Ben for carving the witch with clouds behind her with nothing but his imagination to guide him.  He has quite the set of skills, too.

Lily was a princess.  Skyler was Buzz Lightyear.  For a pic of him scroll a few blog posts down.


I always knew I was weird in college when I would secretly clap my hands when my teacher would assign us a paper that we needed to write.  All the other students would groan and I would put on my own fake disappointed face and then I'd dash home, clear off my desk, and start typing.  It was actually fun for me, even if I was researching all the grim details of how bad diet soda and artificial sweeteners are for the human body.

I shouldn't have majored in Elementary Education, but I definitely don't regret doing it.  I think that that choice has been ridiculously helpful to me in the motherhood department.  But if I could go back in time Napoleon Dynamite style ("You forgot the crystals") I would have majored in English.  Because of, you know, my book.  But sometimes God intervenes and early on in my college career I got married and then became pregnant which made me opt to take all 5 billion of my English credits (resting on a couch with a big novel sounded like better pregnancy work than running a couple of miles out in the snow for a gym class while toting an eight pound beach ball in front).  I'm not so sure that the only reason why I was pregnant at that time was to pop out my adorable daughter.  I think that my classes at the time helped me get to the point that I'm at now in my writing, though I still have a long way to go before I would consider myself to be anywhere near the "publishable" level I hope to be at someday. 

One of the questions I get all the time is, "Why do you update your blog so much?"  I know that for a lot of people it's boring or just one of those things that they'll do later or they're just so dang busy that blogging is sporadic.  Not for me.  I blog when I'm avoiding my book because I'm stuck in a rut but I need to satisfy my writing itch.  So if I post 5 times in a week that means I'm having a bad book week but if I post once a week I'm lost in a future world with people I've created who are trying to fight through the life I've given them. 

I never would have guessed how time consuming this whole "hobby" has become.  I listen to writing podcasts when I fold clothes.  I scheme twists in the plot when I shower.  I try to give my characters voice when I have insomnia.  I write while Ben fixes up his motorcycle and I write while the kiddos sleep.  I write when I eat lunch and I write when the kids are watching a movie.  Is it sad that I find more excitement from writing 1500 words than watching an action packed movie?

One day I hope I'll have enough courage to share my writing with someone.  For now, only Ben knows little bits and pieces of what's happening in my own little fictional world but someday, SOMEDAY, I hope that you, too, will read it.  Because I'm pretty sure this is something that no one will expect from me, I don't think people usually look at me and say, "Oh that girl totally looks like she could write Sci-Fi."  I feel like a Barbie invading G.I. Joe territory. 

So from the bottom of my heart, thank you blog readers who faithfully come back to read my ramblings and actually comment.  As conceited as it sounds, the comments really do boost me up and make me think that maybe someone else gets what I'm trying to express.  In my dreams, I hope to be an official author, but the odds of that are smaller than small.  BUT, if it does happen, you will all be my first readers.  And for that, I can't thank you enough. 

Epic Eating

A week and a half ago something epic happened.  And when I say epic, I actually mean that it wasn't epic, but you know me, I just talk like that.  So it was almost epic (better?)  Ben had never been to a fair before (this is the part where you gasp and think about all the heavenly deliciousness he has missed out on).  Needless to say, we went.  I mean, why wouldn't you when your parents cashed in all the coins they've been collecting for a while and bought you tickets?  It basically took me negative five seconds to say we were in. 

I warned Ben of one thing.  I don't care about the rides.  I did when I was younger and I still love them today, but they just don't do it for me as much as they used to.  Plus, if we're going to get really personal on this blog, let's just say that my post-baby body handles some things differently now (aka when I actually wondered if I would throw up on a ride for the first time in my life).  I was only going for the food, even if we were going to blow half of our week's grocery budget on it.  The angel and devil on my shoulders basically had a conversation like this:

Angel: All that fair food is no good.  High calories.  Empty calories.  Don't do it.  You're on a diet.
Devil:  Um... they have fried mac'n'cheese over there.  And fried candy bars.  And bloomin' onions.  And fried oreos...

At which point I cut the little devil off and said "Point made."  Here is what the four of us shared that day:  Deep fried snickers.  Deep fried oreos.  Deep fried mac'n'cheese.  Funnel cake.  Cotton candy.  Bloomin' onion.  Corndog.  Boiled Peanuts.  I'd say it was a success.

 Roller coaster training happens early in this family.  It's kind of a necessity if you're my child and you're going to keep up with me on the big rides someday.

 Skyler was hungry.  Enough said.

 Petting the baby ducks and chicks was a hit.



 The hot air balloons would spin like teacups.  The guy who ran the ride was like, "Don't spin your balloon until the ride starts."  So of course, my daughter Lily "Ringleader" Macbeth totally got their balloon spinning super fast which made every other kid start spinning theirs.  By the time Skyler got off the ride he looked like he had turned into an alcoholic by the way he was walking zig-zagged to get to me.

My word of advice: you have failed at having a fair experience unless you have eaten a week's worth of calories.  And since I didn't get to try everything I wanted to at the fair, I'm thinking about having a fair dinner one of these nights.  On the list are Krispy Kreme cheeseburgers, deep fried mashed potatoes, another bloomin' onion, and for Ben, another funnel cake.  Heck, maybe we'll steal the kiddos' halloween candy and deep fry those, too.  It'll be easy.  Like stealing candy from a baby.  Mwahahahaha!!!! 

"Can You Keep Me Alive?"

I read something in the lightbulb-going-on category today.  Shawn Bean is probably my absolute favorite magazine writer in the history of magazine writers.  He is a collumnist for a few popular parenting magazines.  Now I don't always agree with what he says, but I read something in one of his articles today that made me laugh out loud when I was in a bad mood.  He was talking about how when his son, Jackson, was a baby he freaked out over everything.  "Pulling a little arm through a blanket sleeper felt like cutting the green wire on a ticking explosive. Over time, I learned that not only would my son Jackson stay in one piece, he was a sturdy stunt baby who often turned our childproofing efforts into an impromptu game titled Can You Keep Me Alive?"

I can see it now: a board game with the same title sold to parents while they're expecting their first child.  Maybe Ben and I will make it.  We'll be millionaires and I can buy my year supply of Toblerones.  Imagine with me: you go around a board figuring out ways to react when your child swallows a needle.  Then you have to smile as you listen to your billionth offering of unwanted advice just because it worked for them.  Then you have to figure out how to force nutrients into your kid when they decide that eating is so overrated.  Then you have to ignore your child when you make an important phone call and they scream so loud you're sure that your neighbors are checking on you with binoculars to make sure you're not hurting them. 

The list goes on and on and on.... really, with kids, the possibilities are endless. 

Saturday was a day that could have ended up in that game.  It wasn't a good day.  Ben wasn't home at the time and I was in the bathroom doing my hair and makeup.  The kiddos were "watching a movie."  Then there was banging on the steps and giggling (are they carrying the toy bus downstairs again?) and after being in the bathroom for 10 minutes Lily started banging on my bedroom door.  "Mommy!  I dirty!"  Ummm... what?!  How are you dirty?  You weren't dirty when I left you.  I fling the door open and I shouldn't have been surprised.  Her hands were covered with the most wicked, abominable, wretched invention there ever was.  In fact, I'd consider it my nemesis in many ways.  Vaseline.  How.  Many.  Times.  Do.  I. Have. To.  Go.  Through.  This?!?!?!  Those little toddlers had carried a kitchen chair all the way upstairs so that they could reach the vaseline which was way out of their reach before.  Carpet.  Walls.  Handles.  Clothes.  More walls.  I can get it out of carpet in less than a minute... but walls??? 

I wanted a Mommy vacation.

Then today when I turned off the water when I finished showering, I heard the bang of the linen closet door.  Oh no.  Not good.  I run out to find blankets, towels, and wash cloths scattered everywhere.  Then even worse, they had climbed the shelves and taken down all of our board and card games.  Every possible moving piece to a bunch of games, every card in 3 sets of phase 10, Monopoly property cards, Boggle and Scrabble letters, Taboo and Pictionary cards, all of it mixed into one ugly concoction.  For FHE we spent an hour -- HOUR! -- cleaning up their mess. 

So when Ben and I start selling copies of "Can You Keep Me Alive?" it may have just as much to do with controlling your own frustrations as it has to do with child-proofing.  And once we own it, I had better not see it scattered all over the floor with Monopoly money. 

Wingless Buzz.

They're lucky they're cute.
But don't let those sweet faces fool you.

Changes

When people first meet my kids together the same reaction usually happens: their eyes pop and they curiously ask me, "How close are they in age?"  Umm... 13 months people.  I remember finding out I was pregnant when Lily had just barely turned 5 months old.  It was somewhat/sort of/OK...completely ridiculous.  It was also a surprise.  And I tried to be happy about it.  And I kind of was, depending on the day.

If you read my blog back then, it basically went like this:  "Oh my gosh.  This is so hard.  I think I'm going to die."  Or, "Oh my gosh, Skyler will never stop nursing or start sleeping.  I think I'm going to die."  Or, "Lily just tried eating Skyler's umbilical cord.  I think I'm going to die."

Well... I didn't die.  Whew.

Now that Lily is old enough to know that punching Skyler in the face doesn't count as a hug and that there are other/yummier/non-cannibalic snacks in the world, things are going much better for me as a mom. 

Sure my kids have rubbed the walls with anti-itch cream and vapo rub.  My carpet has been styled with vaseline.  My front door has even been finger painted in poop.  It's not always pleasant around these parts.  The barely-there age difference has made these two partners in crime, but I keep telling myself that at least they're partners.  At least they WANT to do these things together. 

But every morning I wake up by having the kids "jump cookies" on our bed (which really means that they just jump up and down yelling, "jumping cookies!"  Ben and I have no idea where they came up with that one...)  Then they will both come lie down with me and Skyler will press his forehead against mine, give my nose a kiss, and say softly, "Wake up, Mommy."  Every.  Single.  Morning.  It's pretty much the best way to wake up. 

Then during the rest of the day Lily and Skyler will go up into the castle and hide from dinosaurs and whales that are chasing them.  They often have conversations that I can't understand but then they end up rolling on the floor in laughter because even though I don't get it, they do. 

Ben and I always joke that we would never recommend having kids this close together.  But that would only be half true.  The begining was rougher than rough and I don't want to think about their financial future when they're going to college/on missions/getting married at the same time but everything in between is surreal.  So to people who pity me, don't. 

Now that Ben and I have been trying to get pregnant for months and months without success (with the exception of my miscarriage in August) I wish I could have told myself, "Be happy that you're having all-day sickness in your pregnancy.  At least you're pregnant!  Don't complain that you have to do 3 night-feedings a night for over a year.  At least you have a baby! Don't be upset that your kids are 13 months apart.  Some people can't even have one."  The list goes on.  Everyone has a plan to their life, but things don't always go that way. 

And sometimes that's when we're given the best blessings ever.

So if you ever find out that you're unexpectedly pregnant and your kids are going to be Irish Twins, don't freak out.  And don't read any of the blog posts I wrote in 2009.  Just remember that one day, your kids might be jumping cookies on your bed, too.  And then you'll pity everyone else.

Making Stuff

Today I've decided to do things a little out of the ordinary.  I'm going to talk about things that Ben and I have made -- crafts, shelves, and recipes.  Prepare yourself.

About a month ago I saw THIS TUTORIAL and thought, "Hmm... I could totally make those for cheap, but I'd do it a little differently."  So Ben and I went out to one of my favorite stores in the world (Goodwill) and spent about $5 for all of these vases, jars, and candle holder.  We decided to use sharpie to draw the faces because then we could erase it with rubbing alcohol and use them for the rest of the year.  We turned on While You Were Sleeping and got to work on our coffee table.  It probably took us a little over an hour to make these.  I give you Frankenstein, a witch, a jack-o-lantern, a ghost, and a skeleton (which I accidentally used acrylic on instead of tempera.  Whoops.  I hope it comes off).

With all the canning we just did, we knew we needed a place to put the jars.  Our pantry was already packed, even though it's ginormous.  Sooo... Ben and I thought it would be awesome if he could build some cheap shelves.  So on his lunch break one day he went to Home Depot, spent $50, and then he spent this past Saturday designing the shelves and assembling them.  They don't look like they should be on the cover of a Pottery Barn catalog but they fit our budget and they will be be invaluable as we finish getting our year supply (hopefully that will be soon).  I'm just praying that we'll be able to fit everything in our laundry room (where these shelves are) and our pantry and other the other big closets in our house.  Otherwise we're going to have to get creative again.  :)

 Where we're going to store our year supply of paper products.  Now that we've lived in our house for a year I realize that it won't take as much as we originally thought.

OK y'all.  Let's get Southern.

When Ben and I were first married he always complained because I was constantly talking about pig pickin's and how amazing the food was (unfortunately he didn't go to his first pig pickin' until last month).  So I searched far and wide for a legitimate NC BBQ recipe.  Everything I tried was wrong.  And then one day, after I had opened up this little flimsy cookbook that came with my crockpot, lo and behold, the recipe was practically glowing at me.  Holy guacamole y'all, this stuff is legit.  So I'm going to share the recipe with y'all.  You're welcome. ;)

Carolina Barbecued Pork

2 onions, quartered

2 T. brown sugar

1 T. paprika

2 tsp salt

1/2 tsp pepper

1 4-6 lb. boneless pork butt or shoulder roast

3/4 C. cider vinegar

4 tsp. Worcestershire sauce

1 1/2 tsp crushed red pepper flakes

1 1/2 tsp sugar

1/2 tsp mustard

1/2 tsp garlic salt

1/4 tsp cayenne pepper

Hamburger buns (optional)

Place the onions in your crockpot.  Combine the brown sugar, paprika, salt and pepper and rub the mixture all over the roast.  In a bowl combine vinegar, Worcestershire sauce, red pepper flakes, sugar, mustard, garlic salt and cayenne pepper (we like to make a double batch of the sauce.  Nothing like drowning your meat in it.... yum).  Mix well.  Drizzle half of the vinegar mixture over the roast.  Cover and refrigerate the remaining sauce.  Put the lid on the crockpot and cook on low for 10 hours or on high for 6.  Remove the meat and onions and drain.  Chop or shred the meat and onion.  Serve it by itself or put it on hamburger buns with cole slaw. 

 Alrighty y'all.  Now it's time for something sweet.  Y'all know I'm such a chocoholic.  Well, these are my absolute favorite cupcakes ever.  But then I'm under the impression that if it has cream cheese in it, it will be off the hook.  Y'all will die when you eat these.  I have a very clear memory of my mom making these for her girls one Sunday when she was in Young Women.  When church ended she handed me the basket that held all the leftovers and told me to go wait in the car for the rest of the family.  I clearly remember having that basket in my lap, knowing that I shouldn't eat any of them, but I totally did.  I think I ate three or four before anyone could see me.  I don't remember feeling guilty either.  :)

Self-Filled Chocolate Cupcakes

(makes 2 dozen)

1 pkg. chocolate cake mix
(1) 8 oz. cream cheese (room temperature)
1/3 C. sugar
1 egg
dash salt
(1) 6 oz. pkg. chocolate chips
1/2 tsp. vanilla
2 dozen paper cupcake liners

Mix cake mix according to directions on package. Fill cups half to 2/3 full with batter. Cream the cheese and sugar together, beat in egg and salt. Stir in chocolate chips and vanilla. Drop a rounded teaspoon of cheese mixture into center of each cupcake. Bake as package directs. Frost with favorite frosting.

While we're talking about how much I love cream cheese, let me introduce to you my family's mashed potatoes.  It is one of my top two recipes that people always ask for.  We eat this every Christmas.  It's that good.

Mashed Potatoes

3 lbs. potatoes

1/2 tsp salt

2 T. butter

8 oz. package cream cheese (the low-fat stuff is just as awesome)

2/3 C. sour cream

1/4 C. milk

salt and pepper to taste

paprika

Peel and cube potatoes, add 1/2 tsp salt to water and bring to a boil.  Cover with lid and let simmer for 20 minutes.  Drain water and place in a large mixing bowl (I use my kitchenaid).  Beat until crumbly.  Then add butter.  Mix in next 4 ingredients until creamy.  Spray 9x13 pan with PAM.  Pour potatoes in pan and brush top with melted butter.  Sprinkle with paprika.  Bake uncovered for 30 minutes at 350 degrees. 

*Can be made 2-3 days ahead of time and baked later.

Happy cookin' y'all!

"App-uh-latch-en"

According to North Carolinians (me included) the word "Appalachian" is actually pronounced "App-uh-latch-en."  I'll give you a virtual high five if you pronounce it that way to someone today.

Since it's nice to get out of town every now and then, we planned a trip to the Blue Ridge Parkway.  For those of y'all who don't live in this neck of the woods, the Blue Ridge Parkway is a road (not highway) that stretches north and south for 469 miles with sites all along it (about every mile or so) in the mountains.  We're really fortunate because most of the Parkway is actually in North Carolina. 

I'll let most of the pictures speak for themselves. 

Where we had our first picnic.

The 100 foot waterfall I talked about in the last post.  If you look at the bottom of the waterfall on the left, you can see a woman.  It gives you an idea of the size.

These two had a blast together.

Altapass.  Apple picking.  Fudge eating.  Music playing.

Although the caverns did freak the kids out a little bit, the stories about them were pretty cool.  Soldiers from the civil war (from both sides) used to hide in there to avoid the battles.

 Where we had our last picnic.

Despite all the beauties we saw on our trip, nothing could beat the beauty of these two. :)

  When we were leaving I told Ben that I felt like I had spent a couple of days in Rivendell.  I know that sounds a little weird but these pictures just don't even do the mountains justice.  They are breathtaking.

On the way home we stopped in a small town called Moravian Falls that is known for its apple orchards.  We bought ourselves 4 bushels (somewhere between 162 and 194 pounds) for $15/bushel (31-35 cents a pound) and we've already canned almost all of them.  We ended up with 48 quart sized jars of applesauce and 28 quart sized jars of cinnamon apples.  We still have about half a bushel left and I'm debating what else to do.  Apple butter, maybe?  Pie filling?  Or should we just eat them?  Who knows.  All I know is that these are pretty much the best apples ever.  We may have to make this excursion every year.  :)