Some thoughts on Marriage

My husband loves his Orange Juice.  He is cranky when there is no orange juice.  It is his morning cup of coffee.
A super wife would be be up, dressed, made-up and accessorized, fresh squeezing juice for her honey in their perfectly clean home.    I like to tell myself that she has carpal tunnel from all the juice squeezing, permanent brain damage from bleach inhalation,  and goes completely nuts in public from the sleep deprivation of the painfully early mornings.  People whisper and talk about her behind her back because she actually is a little crazy.

A good wife makes sure that the moment the OJ jug is half low she promptly gets herself to the store to take care of the issue.  She completes the task with a nice coat of mascara and lip gloss, uses a coupon for the juice which makes her husband extra happy.

A mediocre wife, on the morning of her 11th anniversary, hauls her butt out of her cozy bed at 6 AM, wipes the sleep from her eyes and makes a mad dash to the Kroger.  She has a greasy pony tail and her make-up is nothing more than pillow case indentations.   Despite the fact the the door opened, she wonders, "IS this place really open??"  She feels like an intruder.  And she feels guilty that her poor planning landed her at the nearby Kroger with horrible customer service rather than at her beloved Market Street where they still insist on taking your groceries to your car and don't even have self check out lines.  She grabs the biggest thing of OJ she can get her hands on, completes the self check out process (grrrrrrrr!-- I, I mean "she" hates it!)  and dashes back to the house hoping that everyone is still asleep.  They are.
She pours her husband a glass of juice, feeling so grateful that he is a pretty simple guy and he puts up with her in spite of her many, many shortcomings.  He sets the bar pretty low, yet she still manages to fall face first over it, often.  She looks forward to the next 11 years together in which their oldest will go off to college and their youngest will get a driver's license.  And she begins to cry because she feels so lucky to have a man who accepts her mediocrity and simply loves his OJ.

Loose Teeth

Oh how I hate the tooth losing stage of life.  The horrible look of wiggly teeth,  the horrible sound it makes when it comes out.  It is all just enough to make me want to toss my Oreos.  Mind you, I am not a wimpy person.  I pulled all my own teeth and can recall not being bothered by that.  I can clean up barf.  I can clean up poop.  I can clean up myself after I got barfed or pooped on.  I took anatomy in grad school and yes, there were lovely folks who donated themselves to science for our labs.  It made me take a big long shower, but it didn't gross me out.  My point is, I am not usually grossed out.
Except when it comes to bones.  Broken bones make my stomach turn.  I blame it on Joe Theisman.  If you need further explanation, watch The Blind Side or go on you tube.  I am sure that you can find the gruesome video of his leg snapping like a twig and pointing every which way but right.  Nasty.  
And then there was a time when my little bro dislocated his hip playing football.  Luckily I never saw his injury because the paramedics put him on a stretcher, but my mom and I followed the ambulance in 5:00 traffic on the tollway.  They didn't even bother turning on lights because there was no place for people to attempt to move in the gridlock.  All the while lays my brother with one leg 6 inches longer than the other. Ewww.  And Ouuuuchhh!
I think teeth fall into this category for me.  My daughter has gotten out of bed with a tooth that has busted to the completely jiggly phase and is trying everything in her power to get it out.  I can hear it.  I would help her, but she refuses to let me.  There is moaning and the clicking sound of the wiggling and if I weren't her mom, I would be sooooo out of here.   But I stay.  She eventually consents to my assistance.  Oh joy.  But it is the means to an end.  I. CAN. NOT. watch her point that thing 90 degrees straight at me anymore.   I have to make it stop.
I grab some rubber gloves for the grip.  As soon as I get my fingers around it, with the tiniest of tugs, it is out.  Wheeeeewwww!   I did it.  I got that darn nasty thing out of her head and she is going to bed happy now.  And so am I!

We're Back....

Back to life, back to the present time, back from a fantasy.......This line from the Soul II Soul song ALWAYS dances around in my head when I return from vacation, or as our friends from across the pond like to call it, Holiday.  It was a Holiday!    I took projects that I meant to complete and baking that I meant to do, but all I really accomplished was completely enjoying 45 innings of baseball with the boys I love, reading Pioneer Woman's NEW cookbook, and discovering 2 fabric places in Bryan/College Station.  My sweet Lindsay went to a ranch with her cousin and fell in love with horses all over again.   We both went off to our respective fantasy lands and neither of us were all that thrilled with getting back into the swing of things.   The reality of returning to routine walloped us in the face like a water balloon this morning.  We were both grumpy and a little ragged and wanted to throw something back at reality.  Do you feel this way after vacation or do you reintegrate into society with a little more ease than me?

Craft From The Past 1

Each year we have a Christmas Party with family where we exchange homemade gifts.  I wasn't overly in love with this one when I gave it, but seeing it again years later increased my pride in the project.

I did this a while ago and don't remember exactly how it I did it.  I do remember it was kind of a pain, but there is more technology and more knowledge in photo editing so I am sure it would be easier if I tried it now.

This is a Guess Who? Game that we personalized.  This idea came from a neighbor.  I maintain the stance that I don't have many original thoughts.
I bought a Guess Who? Game when Target had a big sale on games.

Next,  I gathered a bunch of silly disguises and had the family take pictures in them.
Then I sized down the pictures and cut away the background.  (This was the hard part).   I think I did the whole thing in Power Point.  It is my "go to" program.  I really need to branch out.
After that, we thought up silly names to go with each picture.  This was not hard with the help of my husband.
Slick, Rufus, Trixie, Doc, Bert, Ernie.  Your characters will kind of name themselves. I promise.

 Then I put each picture on a red background............

and  blue background.....................

and a yellow background for the cards you draw.........  

Then I cut them all out and put scrap book paper on the back sides of the red and blue pictures.  Use the original game pieces to get the size.   I had a friend laminate them for me.   You don't have to do this. I just thought it would help with the durability.  And I slipped them into the game!  

  Now you can play Guess Who? and laugh at your goofy family all at once!

Since U Been Gone......

I took my son for a sinus x-ray.  He has had a sinus infection for ummmmm 30+ days (really, I think 3+ years).  We are on our 3rd antibiotic.  Luckily, he doesn't feel bad.  He played over 3/4 of his soccer game and scored a few goals.  When he wasn't running, he was jumping.  See......

He just sounds like he has typhoid and people give me dirty looks when I take him out in public because of it.    

We survived the school open house/auction.  My quilt sold for $75.00.  I spent that much buying bowling with the teacher and 45 minutes of free PE for my daughter's class.  She was thrilled.  If it were me, I would have wanted someone to pay so we would NOT have had 45 minutes of PE, but that was back in the day when we had PE EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.  and for some unknown reason, there was not an obesity crisis in the country.  

I also had a plumbing issue.  The sink was backed up in the kitchen.  I took it apart. I found nothing. I put it back together.  Still clogged.  I took it all apart again.  I put it back together.   Confucius say it is better to try to solve the plumbing problem before involving the man of the house, because plumbing make men very upset.   Maybe Confucius didn't say that.  Maybe I learned that by experience.   Either way, I took a deep breath and called him in.  I thought surely carrying a bucket of water and PVC pipe into the yard, TWICE,  would tip him off that something was up.  It didn't.  Rough Day at the home office.  He did all the stuff I had already done.  He couldn't fix it either. This made me just a wee bit happy.   I mean if I were going to be the one to get covered in sink spew, I wanted to bask in the glory of executing the repair.  Defeated, we went on about life and called the plumber.  And then, we went into the laundry room to find water all over the floor.  This was disgusting and reassuring.  Disgusting because I there was a ton of soggy laundry.  Reassuring because this was clearly out of our league.   

I was hopeful that the cause of this back up would also lead us to the cause of the foundation issues that are the cause of my broken tile (which I hate anyway.)  

I entered Fantasy Land.  Cue the harps!  I began picking out wood flooring in my head.   Why stop there?  The carpet would look really bad next to nice new wood.  And how about some new furniture and paint?   And THEN Ty Pennington and friends pulled up in an RV..............  Only, I don't deserve a home makeover and the RV was a plumbing truck, and nope, No Ty.  Brutal re-entry into reality.   

The plumber saved the day.  It was completely straight forward.  My fantasy was dead.  Though, I couldn't really be upset because I didn't have a sink full of yuck anymore.  Back to cooking.  

I cut out a quilt for my niece.  My niece that might even be born on MY birthday.  My daughter and I made a huge dent in my stash of scraps and fabric by cutting scraps to make her 2nd grade market project.  I am afraid that I cannot divulge any further information for fear of corporate spy activity and attempted knock-offs.   I also (FINALLY) cut out all of my Craftsy Block of the Month blocks.  It is March.  I am 3 months behind, or as I see it, right on schedule.   

And now it is Spring Break, and there is no schedule and I can breathe for the first time.     

Ode to the Oreo

Let me start this post by saying, I am not a big fan of store bought cookies.  I like to bake and I always feel that I can bake better cookies.  The exception, OREOS!  Oh my gosh!  I feel about these the way many people feel about Girl Scout Cookies.  They are the sweet in my pantry that can beckon me from across the house.  I cannot be trusted when left alone with Oreos.  And with Oreos, there is no denying what you have been up to.  The black on the teeth tells the tale.  Speaking of that, one of the best quotes I have ever heard is, "Cleaning a house with children in it is much like brushing your teeth between bites of an Oreo."  AMEN.

The love affair really began when I told my grandma that I did not like chocolate covered cherries.  She started getting me a tin of Crate and Barrel White Chocolate Covered Oreos.  This was back before Nabisco was doing them. And they were much better than what you can get now.    They were covered in a good 1/4 shell of white chocolate and then drizzled with red and white chocolate to make it fancy.  I very reluctantly gave one to each of my family members because that is what Jesus would have done.  No, wait, Jesus would have made that tin of 30 feed a crowd of thousands.  Yes, I do wish I were more like Jesus.   After I exercised this gesture in kindness, I hoarded them.  I counted them.  I became angry when I discovered one of my brothers had been in my stash.  These were such a treat.  

I prefer the Double Stuf variety.  I feel it achieves a better cookie to cream ratio.  I do not dunk.   I have never really liked milk, so I don't want it on my cookies.  Much like I don't usually want fruit polluting my desserts.  Fruit is healthy.  Dessert is indulgence.  I personally believe the 2 are mutually exclusive.  Let's try it on for size though.....Healthy Indulgence.  Nope. Doesn't work.  Back to the processed greatness that is the Oreo.

Thanks to Pinterest,  I have found at least a zillion new ways to enjoy an Oreo.  Click the picture to go to the pin on Pinterest.  To go right to the recipes, click on the website listed below each picture.  It takes you straight to the source.

First up, I am going to be making these for the teachers at my kids' school tomorrow.  Cookies and Cream Oreo Brownies.  That is the trifecta of deliciousness.  Cookies and Cream ice cream, Oreos, Brownies.  Sweet Mercy.

Source: kevinandamanda.com via Katy on Pinterest

Thanks Kevin and Amanda for sharing this recipe. With any luck, the teachers will be left in a chocolate coma and I can snatch my little one out of there early to get the Spring Break Party started early.

Next up, we have Oreo balls.  These quick and easy balls turn your Oreo into chocolate Oreo poppers.  Below are 2 varieties.  Yum!

Source: theidearoom.net via Kim on Pinterest

Source: bakerella.com via Brenton on Pinterest

Next up, Cheesecakes................

Source: catesworldkitchen.com via Janet on Pinterest

Here comes the Oreo Cake!  I would totally eat that.

Source: mybakingaddiction.com via Paula on Pinterest

And all of this is really fine and dandy, but I think this looks more like my style!

Source: images.search.yahoo.com via Katy on Pinterest

New Hat...

I began this post on Saturday, so "today" is really Saturday......so goes my life, 3 days behind!  Enjoy!
............

Today I put on a new hat as a mom.  I became a soccer mom.  Let me be honest with you.  I didn't want to be a soccer mom....ever.   I was perfectly content as a baseball mom and a not at all like the crazy tv show dance mom.  But my dear husband played soccer as a kid and when George asked to play soccer, he gave the 10-4.  I knew they were both excited, but this was going to make ME one of THEM.  You know THEM. The proverbial soccer moms. Please do me the service of using your imagination and inserting a horror movie organ fugue here.  If you need help with that, just think of Scooby Doo when the "ghost" is lurking around the corner.  It adds nicely to the dramatic effect.

"They" are the ones that have a sticker collection on the back of their mini-van.   It begins with a stick figure family, complete with pet.  Right next to that, another stick figure family proclaiming their allegiance to Disney by wearing mouse ears.  Next come the activity stickers.  At least 2 for each of the 3.5 kids.  And the school pride stickers.  And the honor roll stickers.  And at least 2 cause of your choice colored ribbon stickers.  And the 13.1 sticker that says, "Look at me.  I do all of this and I run too!"  Gosh, I hate "that" mom. And if the sticker collection is not enough, she hops out of her mini with her perfect mani, designer sweat suit, and rockin' the blue tooth because she has stuff to take care of.   I could go on and on, but you get it, right? You get it because I could, I really could, go on and on and on some more!

And, I am aware that the woman that I present to you is a stereotype.  She doesn't really exist, but she must have at some point because stereotypes must come from SOMEWHERE.  I do not want to be this woman, thus my selfish lack of enthusiasm about the beginning of soccer season.

But I prepare to go to  the first game riding on the wave of my son's enthusiasm.  Their team is the Big Cheetahs.  Their jersey is orange.  Really, orange?  We are a self respecting Texas Aggie family.  It is against my best judgement to embrace orange when it comes to sporting affiliations.  To combat the orange factor, when we picked our number, I tossed out 12 as a suggestion.  Lindsay thought of 13 because it is Taylor Swift's favorite number.  Her argument did not resonate with him like being the 12th Man did, so 12 it was.  I felt better knowing that if he was on an orange team, he would be wearing a number firmly rooted in Aggie Tradition.

I took my camera so I could capture this event on my hard drive for eternity or at least until my hard drive crashes.  Chances of my getting these pictures into a scrapbook are, well, about as likely as snow in July.  I have good intentions, but there are simply not enough hours in the day for me to tackle all the creative endeavors I would like and remain a functional family member.  Did I forget to mention that "soccer mom" is also an avid scrapbooker and has up to date albums for each of her children?  Well, she does.

George was sent out to do the coin toss.  He won.  The game began and I was amazed.  These kids were not terrible.  They were actually pretty good for their age.  I guess most of them had been playing for a while.  They moved the ball well and no one looked like they would rather be playing their DS.  I learned that George is fast.  I have always known that he was quick, but in baseball, as you run to the base alone, you cannot really gauge the speed.  He chased down the ball zoomed around the field.  When he was not a part of the pack, he was jumping up and down in his automatic Tigger bounce fashion waiting for the ball to bust loose and get it.  And then the magic happened............

GOOOOOOOOAAAAAAALLLLLL!  He was so excited.  He threw his arms in the air. I threw my arms in the air.  And then I had the sense to grab my camera and snap away.  I caught this picture just before his friend, who we have known since he was 2 spun George around and gave him a huge hug.  They were both so excited.  And it was at THAT exact moment, not the goal, but the hug, that I had to choke back some tears and swallow some foolish pride and be ashamed that I had denied my child this fun and camaraderie.

Yes, I was wrong.  Wrong, wrong, wrong.  Shame on me!  Don't expect to catch me in a blinged out soccer mom shirt anytime soon, and don't be looking for any brag stickers on the back of my car. But I will concede that kids soccer is a real sport and the game was exciting.  The women I met were extremely nice.  "Soccer Mom" was not there, because as I stated, she doesn't really exist.  This team is amazingly well coached by the  dads and well supported by the moms.  They brought each kid and all the siblings, YES, ALL of the siblings, juice bags, granola bars, and fruit snacks for after the game.  Impressive!  I look forward to the next game and sorting out what kid goes to what family and getting to know them.

I learned in this 45 minutes that I am NOT a soccer mom, or a baseball mom, or a dance mom for that matter.  I am just a mom who is proud of her kids for trying new things and sticking with the ones they love.  I am grateful to my kids for yanking me out of my comfort zone, thus forcing me to grow.  I learned that it is best to not be defined by the activities of my children, but to take the new hats that life hands me and wear them in my own unique way.  

A List

Just for fun, here are 10 things I love, in NO particular order..............
Rainy Days
Red nail polish
Black dresses
Sunday naps
Ballet
Baseball
Violins
Glitter
Flip flops
Fabric Stores

You know what I don't love.  I don't love when it is Monday and the kitchen sink is backed up and I spend all day being a plumber and cannot fix it and my husband gets in on the action and does all the stuff I already did and he cannot fix it.  And I need a shower and I need a Dr. Pepper because uncorking a bottle of wine would not be PC at this hour.  That is what I don't love.