Secret Decoder COOKIES?

I want to make these! We've already done some Valentine crafty stuff (which I will post when I get around to it), but Oh, wouldn't these be fun to make with the kids? Yeah, I think they are next. Here's the link on the how-to: http://www.gourmetmomonthego.com/2009/02/secret-message-decoder-cookies.html

Last Year's Birthday Cake

On "Life As Mom" folks are comparing decorated cakes they've made. I was just going to link to the post where I had pictures of the cake I made for Payge's/my birthday last year, but when I went to look...there wasn't a post! My, oh, my. So, here it is, almost a full year late.



I made each little veggie with marzipan. It was Spring, and I was so excited to be gardening...it's almost time again, for gardening, and cake! YAY!

Thinking While I Run

After last Friday's post, I got some interesting email and comments, so I feel that perhaps I wasn't clear:

I read about other religions out of curiosity, but the more I learn, the more strongly I come back to the faith of being a Latter Day Saint. Why? It's a feeling. There's a difference. I read other things. There's a lot of truth out there to be gleaned. However, my soul only feels full when I take the time to talk to the creator I know and love. Knowledge about religion is great, but knowing God and his Son is better. Knowing they will help you in any situation, and having faith that their answer may be different than you want, but that it's what is best for your eternal salvation is completing in some way. To have a big picture before me of where I came from and where I am going makes each action I do have meaning. It makes washing my children's clothes mean something, it even makes the running I do feel like I am growing and training myself to be something God wants of me.

I know that there are a lot of chances to serve in other religions, but I love that we have a lay ministry. I love knowing that not one of the teachers, priests, bishops, etc. are paid to do what they do, and I know that my calling in helping the sisters learn and grow in the Relief Society is so necessary, yet completely voluntary. My children's Sunday school teachers put their heart and soul into teaching my children, and they aren't paid a dime. My friend is on the dry food cannery board, helping people to build up their food storage and be prepared for hard times, and she's not paid a dime. Our Bishop (known in other churches as Pastor) puts in long hours AFTER he gets done being a dermatologist all day to support his family, and he'll only be in that calling for an average of five years and then someone else in our congregation will take a turn. These men have no formal religious training, yet they speak with the spirit of God. I can't explain it, but you can feel it. True, there are those that might act in a calling unworthily, thus making a bad name for the rest, but by and large, the people I serve with--and serve for, are serving me and my family right back. So, when my husband is gone on weekends with the Youth to Scouting activities, I think about how the parents of those scouts have served me. I think about how someday my son will be a scout (if he so chooses) and there will be godly men willing to take them camping and put up with their weird teenage-ness when I need a break from it. I think of how my daughters will be looking up to the wonderful Christian women that will serve them in the Young Woman's program, where they are taught to strive for virtue. And then I smile.

Some say it takes a village to raise a child, but as a Latter-Day Saint, I know that where ever I go, I'll have a ward.

Update on our week.

Wow. It's been one crazy week. Oh, wait, it's been two...didn't realize today was Wednesday til just now.

Monday of last week, Zac slipped in the shower. He complained of headaches & loss of hunger, so I took him into the doctor. They said no permanent damage, but that he had bruised the tiny bones in his ear that he landed on, which was causing the jaw pain, which was making him not want to eat. We kept him on Tylenol til Friday, and his healing progressed fairly rapidly.

On Wednesday of last week, Chayce woke up vomiting with a fever, slept most of the day, and we watched some movies to keep the other kids quiet for her sake. Thursday, Zac woke with a fever (yes, on top of his pain from his fall). By Friday, both children were feeling fine and running around again. Which is good. I hate to see them sick.

Saturday, Stephen had the Klondike Derby with the BoyScouts. He enjoyed it, but came home achy. We chalked it up to exertion, but he awoke Sunday morning with a high fever, vomiting, and a sore throat. The fever and vomiting passed by Monday night, but the sore throat remained ever so painful. Today--Wednesday (really? Already?) Stephen went into the doctor to figure out what he had. They did some tests. H1N1 AND Strep. Seems the kids probably had a day of the former, but Stephen got stuck with both. He's on some major drugs (legal, prescribed) at the moment to help him rest so this can all go away.

As for Payge and I? Well, we haven't caught anything. We're healthy as can be, so we run around taking care of everyone else. I'm still convinced that the Virgin Pressed Coconut Oil improves immunity (it has high amounts of lauric acid, which helps the body fight viruses, bad yeasts, and the bad bacteria). Given that Payge and I are the only ones that seem to enjoy it on a regular basis, well, I'll draw my conclusions and my husband will tell me it's only correlative not causation. Ha ha.

If you decide to order some, though, given my testimonial, use the code: 5356715 for a free book on the other benefits of coconut oil to be included in your order. It's a pretty decent book with some good recipes in the back. http://www.tropicaltraditions.com/

01/20/10 PHD comic: '63% of internet readers will like this comic'

01/20/10 PHD comic: '63% of internet readers will like this comic': "

Piled Higher & Deeper by Jorge Cham		www.phdcomics.com
title: "63% of internet readers will like this comic" - originally published 1/20/2010 For the latest news in PHD Comics, CLICK HERE!

"

A Six Year Journey

For the past six years, I've been doing a little research. I ebb & flow, of course, as there are many other things to do and learn, and I don't like to let one thing take too much of my time. So, my progress has been slow, but I think this is good, because it allows me to digest what I'm learning and thinking about, change my opinions--if need be, and then move forward.

It all started with an experience. Some of my readers may have already heard this, and that is OK. I was asked to present it at a Stake Relief Society Meeting a few years ago, and given the way it was received, I learned that I wasn't walking as fine of a line along heresy as I thought I was. This is good, as it has allowed me to move forward and learn more without fear, even though I believe I would have gotten to the point of listening to promptings more strongly than opinions of others sooner or later, I believe that having given that presentation was a stepping stone.

The experience occurred not long after Zac's birth. As I stated there, my months following delivery were very full of anger, hate, disbelief, and a bunch of other nouns that mean nasty things. I won't deny that I did not see motherhood as a blessing at that time (it is now, though, just to clarify). One night, I was feeling particularly low, and remembered that I had been taught to pray in order to feel better, but all I could do was cry, yell, and plead. I suppose that is a prayer, but it wasn't very respectful. It went something like this:

I'm supposed to pray to you, via your son, who they say suffered everything. Everything? I cannot fathom that a man, even if a God, could understand the anger and disappointment I feel from this delivery. What man can understand the emotional upheaval that is going through my body? How dare you say that you can empathize with me, and I don't want pity, or sympathy, I want someone who has done this! You have never done this.

After my angry words, I just sat there, I suppose finally relieved that I'd told someone off, even if it was a deity. As I sat there, I noticed that I had started to sing, mostly to calm my baby who wasn't too happy that I was in such a bad mood. Really, though, he was rarely very happy at this age. The thought entered my mind, so calmly and peacefully, "Listen, listen to the words you are singing! Believe me when I say there is someone who knows, who cares and who will pull you through this, LISTEN!" So, I listened...how could I not? The voice was so piercing... I listened to the words coming out of my mouth:

I had learned to call thee Father, thru thy Spirit from on high, but until the key of knowledge was restored, I knew not why. In the heavens are parents single? NO! The thought makes reason stare. Truth is reason, truth eternal tells me I've a mother there.

Written by Eliza R. Snow, for the full version & music, click here.

I sang it over and over again, until it sank in. It was something I did not understand before, though I had sung these words before, the truth hit me hard. I was not alone, and there was so much more to heaven than I understood, more than we could ever fathom, even than could be written in the scriptures.

I have since had this re-affirmed to me while attending the LDS temple (Oh, I'm Mormon, or Latter-Day Saint, for those who don't know), in moments of watching how men and women need to work together for any ordinance to work while in the temple. It takes two. Two for more than procreation, two to create, to love, to fulfill important ordinances, to complete the whole plan. Two.

The rest of my journey (and only thus far, I'm far from done, but since I have a whole lifetime ahead of me...) has taken place by searching for truth in other religions. That doesn't mean I've converted over to other religions, but that I read about their beliefs, look at how they came to be, and think of how they apply when looked at through the lens of the revelations of God having a body, that we are to become like God (completely, not just in manner or intent), and temple ordinances.

I've found great things while studying Buddhism, Taoism, Wicca (yes, Wicca, not Satanism, they are two different things, and Wiccans/witches aren't devil worshipers as many fairy-tales make them out to be. I'm clarifying because I hear that way too often.), Islam, Catholicism, and Evangelical Christianity. Of course, there are some things that I balk at, some things that seem right, but that I feel the need to digest more fully, and some things that just sink right in. My husband and I discuss my readings often, which is good, since otherwise all he'd know about is numbers (I love you, Honey!), and one of the sections of my journey lately has taken me back to Wicca, researching some of the point of view of women from their beliefs.

Interestingly, what they believe goes along with the song I posted above: God is a couple, or at least that's how I'm reading it. I hope if someone who believes this way is reading this they will give me more insight. I want to share a few quotes that I've found from a practicing (and published) Wiccan that I found interesting. Her name is Dianne Sylvan

The problem with believing that women are responsible for the fall of men is that, if a woman had the power to do that, it meant she had POWER. If the female gender could bring down the wrath of God and bring sin into being, or incite men to lust and madness just by showing their ankles, then we must be formidable beings, indeed.

Interestingly, Mormons believe the fall was necessary. That mankind could not have procreated prior to having knowledge of good and evil, so they could not have progressed. We believe that though we are fallen, Eve did us all a favor by creating a way for us to actually make it to earth, and that we might know good and evil, as the Gods.

On body image, she states:

The first thing I usually think when I see a supermodel on television is, "I could snap her like a twig!" Twigs for arms, knees bigger than her thighs, wobbling about on high heels; the paragon of womanly virtue on the runway is a pitiful sight. The popular image of beauty is, in essence, powerlessness. Skinny little girls who look too weak to lift a spoon...are what we are taught we should be.

I actually found myself wondering who really sets this standard, who puts it into our minds, because I know that men are not the ones necessarily saying what is in fashion, women help there, so who is? I have a theory of who really wants us to think being powerless is attractive (Satan, ahem), but then of course I get launched off my soapbox by my fashion-loving friends. Not that looking good and being healthy are bad. No, I think strength and keeping your weight under control by eating nutritious foods and using your body's strength is a great idea, which helps us fulfill part of the purpose of our creation, which is learning to trust our body and see what it is capable of, but that isn't possible if we're abusing it with processed junk that God really didn't intend for us to eat. Hence, the word of wisdom.

Another good point about body image that she makes is this:

Samoans are obese by American standards. However, they have no stigma placed upon being big, and for some odd reason their incidence of heart disease, high cholesterol, and other weight-related illnesses is much lower than ours despite their larger girth...that was until the American [...] attitudes began to cross the ocean to the island countries. Could it be that it isn't so much being fat that kills you as hating yourself for being fat?

In our family at the moment we've been studying ancient Greece. Amazing time period. Really. While I am definitely of the Christian variety, I find the faith they put into their Gods and the universe to let what is best for them happen inspiring, and if it goes wrong there must have been a reason (like maybe the God needed to help someone else more...), so they kept trying. There is much more to it, and we haven't gotten into it as deeply as we will in the future, but still, knowledge of other faiths seems to bolster my own quite a bit.

Speaking of women, this one is a mother of three, and they are noticing that I'm not answering them, so I will cut this post shorter than it could have been. Of course, that might be a blessing for some of you. ;)

Tutus!

One of the joys of having little girls is getting to watch a lot of ballet, and dress them up in cute little ballet outfits. My friend sent these in the mail after making matching ones for her daughters. Awwww!

It's that time again...Bubbles inside! Blowing and building, driving and spraying...ahhh, yuck..and eating... We did this two years ago, and I figured it was time to recycle some of my past activities.

It's Snot What You Think!

It started with me wondering exactly what tapioca was made of...was it it's own plant? Why was it in balls? It just so happened that at the same time, I was reading the book The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver. The characters were in Africa...I'm not going to do an overview...read it sometime. It's a good book. Anyhow, in the book the characters learned to eat a root called Cassava root (see above). It was processed into a flour, and cooked with water, kind of into a paste they called manioc. Well, imagine my surprise when I found out (via Wikipedia, of course!) that manioc and tapioca are the same thing. Tapioca pudding as we know it is just the version that the English came up with, a sweet version. The Africans would eat it flavored with whatever plant was in season.

It just so happened that I had a plain bag of tapioca flour in my cupboard (you never know what you'll find in my house, mainly because I never know what I'll find out and about--which I'll of course need for a future use of some sort, which was proven by the current example.) So, I mixed water and cassava (tapioca)flour together, and cooked it. Trying to imagine what these people ate. Here is what we ended up with:





Can I just say that I would much rather play with than eat this stuff? It's just like the slime from that old Nickelodeon kid's show I saw back in the early 90's. Only not green...but I could fix that.

Birth Story #2

About oh...ten months after Zac's birth, I finally convinced my sweet husband that I wanted to have another child, that I wasn't crazy, and that I thought things would be OK. It took a lot of prodding and pleading, but finally, after Zac's first birthday, we found ourselves expecting Chayce. She is only 22 months younger than him, and I suppose we can attribute that closeness in age to the fact that I thought it would take longer for me to get pregnant.

She was due August 5th, but on the weekend of July 24th, while partying it up with the pioneer day celebrations in Utah, I started to feel contractions. I didn't know that is what they were, because...well...I had never had a contraction before.

Oh..oh...let me back up. During the 10 months of gestation (oh, and I'd like to talk to the fella who said 9 months. 9 months does not 40 weeks make, my friend!) I did a lot of research on VBACs (vaginal birth after cesarean) and found a wonderful doctor in Logan, who had just moved there from California. I was very impressed with his record of having no lawsuits against him, given he was practicing in the most litigious county in the USA (or world, more likely), so I trusted him. He was very excited to help me out.

So, back to July, a week of contractions...but not bad ones. Nothing to scream about (ha ha).

On August 1st, in the early morning, I was woken by my contractions. YAY! I thought. I paced much of the evening, as my doctor had told me not to come in too soon, as laboring at home would keep me relaxed and increase my odds of a successful VBAC. I went in that afternoon, sure I was close, and found that I was at...a one. Ug. I went home, laid down, sort of slept, and paced more. I walked around the block, dug my nails into my husband's arm (sorry honey!) and was sure I was making progress. On the 2nd of August, I went back in to be checked, because Stephen was sure after the way I'd grabbed his arm, I had to be pretty far along...so, I went in, and by that afternoon I'd made it to...a two. Oh, this was slow going. My doctor was amazed that my contractions were as constant as they were (I'd been on the monitor) but such little progress was occurring. I went back home. I stayed there until I was in tears. I couldn't take more, I wanted to rest, and even though I had planned on a completely natural birth, I wanted something to ease the pain. I got to the hospital (again, ug). This time I'd made it to a five! Aack! Finally, they admitted me, and let me have an epidural. Getting the epidural was the biggest mistake I'd ever made, and I would like to strangle the nurse that told me that getting an epidural is better than yelling during pushing. Whatever. I hope she doesn't work there anymore, but she probably does.

My epidural only worked down one side. One leg numb. One half of my abdomen. I could still feel contractions on half of my body, and really felt it when my doctor broke my water. I wasn't allowed to get up and walk due to my numb leg, so I couldn't even move through my contractions. I was not happy, or relaxed. I wished I'd stayed home a little longer. Of course, then I realized that the control to the epidural was right next to me, and so I turned it off. I sat back, tried to relax (ha ha ha) until the numbness on my right side wore off. A little while later, I realized that as I had toughed it out one-sided my daughter was arriving. She didn't have far to go, so I paged the nurse.

She came in to see what the matter was, and I explained to her that I could feel my daughter was close to crowning. She didn't believe me. In fact, she said, "You have an epidural, you wouldn't be able to feel the baby." I retorted that I had turned it off, and that she'd better check me NOW. So, she grumpily obliged, took a peek, and viola! "Oh!" says She, "You've only got about 2 inches to go!" (Meaning, one or two pushes and that baby would be here. Duh.)

So, she called in my doctor while I continued to sit there. For some reason, the contractions really were doing most of the work, and while I felt the baby progressing, I didn't feel the urge to push. Finally, when the doctor came (he wasn't far away, as this was a VBAC), I gave a push and there she was! Yay!

Chayce Elizabeth, born 7 lbs, 7 oz. Two and a half pounds bigger than her older brother had been. Whew! I do remember, though, talking to another nurse, and asking her why I was in pain. See, I'd been told that a VBAC would heal faster. It did. 4 days vs. 6 weeks. However, I think I was hoping it'd be over as soon as it was over. Sigh.

Chayce, about an hour after being born.


Chayce, today.

Reasons I love Snow

Ok. I need to be honest. I'm writing this to convince myself that I'm happy that spring isn't here yet. That I'm not looking at the calendar wishing it were March...a warm March. First, a little song to get us in the mood, the kids were singing it this morning:

1. It is easier to get a lot of homeschooling done, because all we want to do is sit inside and read anyway.
2. My compost pile looks great after a winter, it's perfect to grow in the next spring.
3. I learn to appreciate the warmth of spring.
4. If winter is coming, fall is here, and fall is my favorite season.
5. Christmas just doesn't feel right when it's not white.
6. Snowflakes are pretty.
7. My flowering bulbs need to get cold before they will bloom again (and though I realize I can do that in my freezer, it's easier for it to snow than for me to dig them all up and replant.)
8. My husband is more likely to work from home, because riding a bike in the snow is not easy, but alas, he still does it. Notice I just said more likely, it doesn't happen that much.
9. A reason to put my pretty quilts on the bed.
10. This happens while reading stories to the kids:

Emotional Porn?

Wow, those are some tough words, but the exact words used by this Christian group when reviewing the Twilight series by Stephanie Meyer. Full disclosure, I am LDS--so is Stephanie. I've never read her books, the idea just never interested me. However, since I am fully ingrained in the Christian homeschool groups, I thought I'd share some of what I hear about what this "Mormon" is doing to good Christian girls. The ideas circulating are interesting, to say the least, but I would also say they are quite a bit damaging to missionary work. Here's one (and only one, but I've read others and been present for conversations like this one) article that pretty much summed up what I've been hearing:
http://visionarydaughters.com/2009/11/how-twilight-is-re-vamping-romance

I don't take sides during these conversations, because, as I said, I haven't read them, I just think it's important for those who read my blog, who promote Twilight, to know what is being said.

Birth Stories #1

I told myself that one of my goals for the year would be to actually WRITE DOWN the birth stories of my children--not that I'd ever forget them, but so they had them someday. Since we plan on printing this blog (edited, of course) someday when we have the funds, I thought I'd put it here. I'm going to do it in three separate posts, but you don't have to read any further than the disclaimer of : WARNING, BIRTH STORY. ha ha.

Zachary's Entrance Into the World--as I saw it.
I give it that title, because there were parts I don't know about or remember, that Stephen might, and he might add but this is what I know happened. You'll see...

It was a school day, Friday, I was finishing my senior year of college. I had a check-up...we were at 37 weeks, and it was mid-terms. I knew if I could just finish my tests before delivery, all would be well. I got to my appointment feeling a little weird, kind of tired, but thought that was normal for pregnancy, it was my first after all. The nurse came in and did the usual weight check, BP check, urine check...I was ready to go--I thought. I had no questions, I wanted to get back to studying. My doctor came in and informed me that my blood pressure had gone very high, into the pre-eclampsia range (140's I believe over I don't remember what...it's been six years). I laughed it off...not me, I'd be fine, I felt fine...

She ordered a stress test over at labor and delivery, so over I went (with a friend, I told Stephen to go to class because it wasn't a big deal and I'd be home soon). They said the baby seemed OK, but wasn't moving as much as they'd like. I was sent home to be on bed rest, while counting baby movements. I was told to come back the next day for another stress test, and if I tested well, I could get off of bedrest and back to normal life. Whew! Yay!

Saturday morning, I got up, got dressed, and called the hospital and ordered my test,they said I could come right over, as they had open rooms right then. My parents called me soon after and said they were coming to visit me and they were half-way there. It was a nine-hour drive for them, and so I said I was glad to be able to see them, but hoped they weren't coming out of worry, I was fine!

I got the hospital and they took my BP, I peed in a cup, and they hooked me up to the baby stress test machine. I tried to stay very relaxed so my pressure would show up low, as I was sure that school anxiety had caused the rise the day before. I was, after all, a senior business student with papers that needed writing.

The nurse looked concerned and called my doctor. She came in just to see me! Why did this NOT clue me in that I was not OK? I don't know, but it didn't. She looked at me and said that my test results indicated I was close to full eclampsia and needed to deliver, NOW. She looked at Stephen and said she'd wait to start the induction until he got my things from home. I asked if I could go help, since I hadn't really packed stuff together yet, thinking I had three (or more) weeks to go, but she wouldn't let me leave the hospital. Turns out she knew what she was talking about...

They asked me how I wanted to be induced, and I chose Cervadil to see if that would get things going, rather than going onto pitocin. It began working very slowly. By about 8 PM (ug, I'd been there ALL day) they said they'd try an IV and give me a little pitocin. I was very insistent that I didn't want pain killers and that once labor had started I wanted to go as naturally as possible, since my goal had been a completely natural birth, and they were already messing with my plans more than I liked. I was very naive. Looking at my medical records and thinking of the things I said, I can't imagine what was going through those nurses' heads about my stubbornness, and the health of my baby.

My old room mate stopped by, and brought a bunch of movies. We really thought everything was going well...

My parents finally made it, we chatted, they left to go to a hotel and get some food. Thank heaven they left a number to be reached at...I heard through the grapevine that the nurse called them during the events below and wouldn't tell them what was going on, just that they'd better come back.

During the inserting of the IV, I started to feel very nauseous...

Blank spot...for I don't know how long, we'll have to ask Stephen...

When I came to, I was looking at my husband's face. The nurse had left and the ER (yes, ER, not OR, he'd been rushed up) surgeon was standing in the room. Stephen was telling me I wasn't allowed to close my eyes again and the nurses around kept coaching him to keep me awake. The ER doc was looking at my chart (turns out he used to be an OB) and as my doctor walked in he asked her why they hadn't taken the baby out yet. She'd never faced full on eclampsia, which it turns out I had. He told them to get into scrubs and get the baby out, right then. I remember hearing all of this, but not being able to talk. I was just very tired, on the verge of passing out again, not caring if I fell asleep, but also not wanting a c-section. I remember crying, saying I didn't want the c-section and that I wouldn't sign the papers. Stephen said I didn't say anything, and that he signed the papers. I remember watching him sign, but I was too weak to move.

As they wheeled me into the OR, I started to fight. I really felt like they were out to get me. As I look back on it now, I was probably in hysterics, but I really fought. The nurse tried to put a catheter in and I kicked her. I didn't want it, I didn't want the epidural, I didn't want the c-section. I wanted out of the hospital RIGHT NOW. I just remember fighting, kicking yelling, and hating. I could hear voices. One was the doctor reprimanding a nurse for not letting Stephen follow me, and then yelling to let him by my side ASAP, so he could be with me if I...
I didn't get to hear the rest because another doctor told the anesthesiologist to forgo the epidural and knock me out completely, as fast as he could, there was a poke in my hand and then BLANK.

When I came to, I was in a lot of pain. Turns out Zac's heart rate had plummeted and they didn't take their time with my incision. Hip to hip. Crazy. They wouldn't give me any pain killers until I would talk to them, tell them who I was and such. I kept asking about my baby, finally I answered them to appease them, and asked them where I was (besides the hospital, I knew that much). They answered that I was in the ICU, and would be there for awhile. I was on magnesium to treat the eclamptic seizure I'd had. My baby had recovered fully after being removed from my body. Turns out we were bad for each other. Stephen came in, and I got to see a photo of my baby boy. Then my parents came in. I was still in a lot of pain, but they finally gave me some morphine and jello. I don't remember any other conversations, but I do remember them finally bringing little Zac to lay by me. I couldn't really hold him without help because I was very weak. He was only 4 lbs. 15.5 oz (we teased the nurse that she should have put her pinky on the scale to at least bump his number up to five pounds). He was developed fully, no health problems, just small. Doctors speculate that since full on eclampsia is when the mother convulses and the placenta pulls away from the uterus (usually killing both parties involved), that the pulling away was starting earlier, which is why he hadn't gained but was developed.
I wish I could say that recovery was smooth sailing, but it wasn't. I stayed in the hospital for about five days. A lot of crying went on, as I was very upset about how Zac entered the world. I did finish school that year, though friends who knew me (and still talk to me!) say I was mean and hard to be around. I'm pretty sure, looking back on it, that I had PTSD for about a year. Though, I'd like to brag that even through all that, and missing 5 WEEKS of school, I still graduated only three points short of honors. But, I let myself get B's in five of my classes that year. It was a conscious decision to sleep more than study.

Me, trying to be happy in the ICU. Still very swollen from my ordeal. My facial swelling went down the next day. Look how nice they were--they stuck a towel in my collar and under my food so there wouldn't be spills.

The photo I saw of Zac, before I got to hold him.

Zachary, today. You were so worth it, babe!

The Trivium

Ah, finally, I found a good description of the theory we follow for schooling our kids, already typed up. I was going to type it, but these guys did a great job, so why re-invent the wheel?
http://www.triviumpursuit.com/articles/the_trivium_in_a_capsule.php

If I only had a...

Poor little Payge. She's been a little confused as to how the whole bathroom thing works. She wants to be trained, and she's been trying on her own to show me that she wants to be big like the other kids. However, I could tell she isn't quite ready when I walked into the bathroom today and saw her with her shirt pulled up, grabbing her belly button with both hands and leaning over the edge of the toilet...trying so hard to "pee" standing up via her button. She was really giving it her all, squeezing her tummy with those tiny hands. I just backed out so she wouldn't know I saw her, then she flushed, and came out of the bathroom looking a little triumphant--or maybe flustered. I can only imagine what she was thinking.

Leaving me wondering...

Should I be worried? I'm sitting here typing and my son is in the bathroom. I don't know what he is doing, but I do know that he is singing, "Costs a quarter to smell it!" over and over again. Smell what? I wonder. Then he says to the baby, "Hey babies get to smell for free!" as he comes out of the bathroom. I'm still sitting here, listening quietly.

I got the answer a few minutes later. He was carrying around the lemon-grass container. So, rather than be worried that I have a normal boy on my hands (which is a good thing), I'll wonder what other types of sales schemes my capitalist-by-nature (oooh, or would that be nurture, given his mother's profession when I'm not mothering?) son has going on in his head.

He reminds me very much of my older brother who used to go buy large amounts of penny candy with his allowance and then sell it at school for 5 cents a piece when we had a closed campus middle school. This similarity is a good thing, since my brother is amazing and has done well for himself, taking care of his family and all.

Duck, Duck, Goose!

Oh, yesterday was THE. BEST. DAY. EVER. At least a few moments of it were. The kids decided to play duck, duck, goose with stuffed animals included to make the circle bigger. Each time one of the older children touched Payge on the head and said "duck" she squealed with delight to be included in the game. Then, when Zac touched Chayce and said, "Goose!" both girls got up and started running. Because they all run at about the same pace, there was an evenly spaced circle of children running, and running, and running--not quite catching each other. I had to try really hard not to laugh...oh, who am I kidding, I laughed hysterically! Finally, they called it off and sat back down to try again, Chayce wanting to be "it". Again, Payge would squeal with glee each time she was touched, her grin unsurpassed by anything I've seen, and then when "Goose!" was yelled, it didn't matter who had been touched, they all started running in the same circle again.

Childhood rocks.

Two Coconut Give-Aways!

Mmmm. I love using coconut oil to cook in. Now, Tropical Traditions has a new product that I want to try, Peanut Butter with coconut oil in it. I realize I could mix my own peanut butter together with coconut oil, and make many of the recipes, but...what if I could WIN a jar of the stuff...mmmm. It's worth a shot. You can try, too, if you want to...
http://sweeps4bloggers.com/?p=671

For a give-away of just plain ol' coconut oil (which is exceptional) go here: http://cutepea.wordpress.com/2009/12/13/gold-label-virgin-coconut-oil-review-and-giveaway/

Food Storage for $5/week

Being prepared in 2010, it seems to be something a lot of folks are thinking about. You just never know when having a store of food will come in handy, so I'm sharing a plan I received from a friend that gives a good guideline for first time storers.

I received this handout many years ago, so, I'm sure the prices have gone up a bit. I think it should be about $8 now, maybe a little more. Anyhow, for those just starting, it is a good place to start.
However, realize that some weeks will be LESS than $5 (like the soup weeks, or tuna) so you save the left over amount and roll it over to the next week. You should use a total of $260/year, but it'll probably be a bit more since grain prices have gone up.

Week1: 6 lbs Salt
Week2: 5 cans cream of chicken soup
Week3: 20 lbs sugar
Week4: 50lbs of wheat (un-ground. I'll post some recipes for wheat without a grinder later)
Week5: 6lbs pasta
Week6: 20lbs sugar
Week7: 8 cans tomato soup.
Week8: 8 cans tuna
Week9: 6 lbs yeast
Week10: 50 lbs wheat
Week11: 8 cans tomatoes
Week12: 20 lbs sugar
Week13: 10 lbs powdered milk
Week14: 7 boxes mac n' cheese
Week 15: 50 lbs wheat
Week16: 5 cans cream of chicken soup
Week17: 1 bottle 500 count multi-vitamins
Week18: 10lbs powdered milk
Week19: 5 cans cream of mushroom soup
Week20: 50 lbs wheat
Week21: 8 cans tomato soup
Week22:20lbs of sugar
Week23: 8 cans tuna
Week24: 6 lbs shortening
Week25: 50lbs of wheat
Week26: 5 lbs honey
Week27: 10 lbs powdered milk
Week28: 20 lbs sugar
Week29: 5lbs peanut butter
Week30: 50 lbs of wheat
Week31: 7 boxes mac n'cheese
Week32: 10 lbs powdered milk
Week33: 1 bottle 500 count aspirin
Week34: 5 cans cream of mushroom soup
Week35: 50 lbs of wheat
Week36: 7 boxes mac n'cheese
Week37: 6 lbs salt
Week 38: 20 lbs sugar
Week39: 8 cans tomato soup
Week40: 50 lbs of wheat
Week41:5 cans cream of chicken soup
Week42: 20 lbs sugar
Week43: 1 500 count bottle vitamins
Week44: 8 cans tuna
Week45: 50 lbs wheat
Week46: 6 lbs pasta
Week47: 20 lbs sugar
Week48: 5 cans cream of mushroom soup
Week49: 5 pounds of honey
Week50: 20 lbs of sugar
Week51: 8 cans tomato soup
Week52: 50 lbs of wheat

You should end up with enough in storage to feed two people. Personally, I'd buy less wheat and add in some dry beans or lentils. Especially lentils because they are faster cooking. However, Whole wheat berries, when soaked and cooked are high in many of the vitamins needed to survive. I personally, would also buy canola oil rather than shortening, and some oats because they make a great fast breakfast (and who could live without oatmeal cookies in case of emergency? Not I!)

Also, it might be more cost effective in the long run to buy each item in larger quantities when on sale. For example, when I knew wheat was available for $0.35/lb, I went ahead and bought a full 600 lbs, rather than 50 pounds here and there. Of course, we use it regularly.
Good luck!

Family

New Year's Resolution #1 is off the list. The family portrait. Done! Whew!

Hope you all had a productive January 1st! Happy New Year!!