So I Met This Guy

I was all of 18 years old, fresh out of high school.  He was 26.  He loves to say he had already done and quit all the things I wasn't legally old enough to do.  He had left home, partied like it was 1999, graduated college, and embarked upon his first and then second career.  I hadn't even voted yet.  But I knew one thing when I saw into his eyes that first night: 

This is the most honest man I've ever met.

I immediately went home and told my sister I'd met the guy I would marry.  What did I know?

Honesty.  That is the one thing I could say I knew for sure that night.  Deep within I knew more.  I didn't know I knew, but I knew.  A sea of peace was welling up inside of me that swooshed with love I didn't know was possible.  Things I would come to know that, for years to come, I would trace back to that first soul glimpse. Waves whispering gently...

He will never lie to you.  But he will never promise he'll never lie to you.  He will be painfully honest about his humanity.  He will tell you it is entirely possible he will leave you and forsake you one of these days, if he is not careful.  So he will be very careful.  He will heed the warnings and flee the temptations.  And he will be quite frank about those temptations which will thoroughly freak you out.  Eventually you'll see there's no escaping the truth, there is incredible danger in hiding our weaknesses from each other, and none in confessing them.  Not with him.

You will be safe with him.  He will let you throw fireballs of fearful, hateful anger at him.  He will take it, but he will not let you get away with it.  He will sit in your frozen silence for hours.  He will keep pushing you.  Sometimes too hard, sometimes not.  But he will push you to heal, to trust, to receive.  He will not let you go on just being the way you've always been.  Because of his dogged love you will begin to long for more.  For happiness.  For freedom.  Not the kind you get from doing what you want, but from doing what is right.  Especially when it's hard and no one else is willing to do it.  He will have your back.

He will stand between you and the rest of the world and dare them to mess with you.

He will cherish you and adore you which will be an absolute miracle, because you will spend years resisting him.  He will believe in you so much that you start to believe it too.  He will sing your praises at home, at work, to friends, to complete strangers.  And it will never get old.

He will not only give you children, but he will also change their diapers.  He will clean up their puke and take them to ballet and shepherd their hearts.  He will be patient when you are not, and not when you are.  He will struggle with you to become the parents your children need.  He will think they are the most beautiful, brilliant, amazing creatures on the face of the earth.  And also that they are just as messed up as everyone else and need to be loved unconditionally.

He will lay down everything he has ever wanted to take care of you and your babies.  He will show you what sacrifice means.  That'll be a good thing to learn.  He'll expect the same from you.  You'll say you can't, and he'll call your bluff.  You will try to scowl holes through him, but he will not scare off.  You have no idea how much you will learn from this man.

You will know what it means to be proud of him.  You will know what it feels like to truly respect him.  You will know what it is to love and live as one.

All in all, you will be very glad you married him.  You will wonder how you could survive without him and you will shutter at the thought of ever losing him or hurting him.  You will love him.  A lot.

And that's only the first eleven years.

the only picture of the two of us on our honeymoon.  it's my favorite.  we had no idea what all was ahead of us.

White Bean Pumpkin Chili

My son does not like black beans.  He and I share so many characteristics, but in this we part ways.  I have never met a legume I did not adore, and black beans are among my favorites.  It has taken me several years to accept this, but our bean based meals are much more peaceful now that I've chosen to leave the black beans out.  Pumpkin chili is a seasonal favorite, but my original recipe called for black beans.  This year I used cannellini beans and we were all very happy with the result.

A few words about pumpkin chili:

It is delicious.

This chili is as soothing and comforting as climbing up in your Memaws lap with an afghan and reading your favorite book.  The flavors are savory but mild; the texture is substantial but silky smooth.  We eat chili often throughout the cold seasons--all three of them--so pumpkin chili is a nice change from the norm. I highly recommend adding it to your annual, culinary fall welcoming!

You can serve it with a simple, sweet cornbread...or buttermilk biscuits...or rich, crusty french bread.  I'm quite pregnant at the moment so I served mine with a smile!

White Bean Pumpkin Chili
serves 10-12
1 lb. dry cannellini or great northern beans
1 onion, chopped
1 yellow bell pepper, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 Tbsp. olive oil
3 tsp. oregano
2 Tbsp. cumin
4 Tbsp. chili powder
29 oz. pumpkin puree
29 oz. crushed tomatoes
2-3 cups broth from cooking beans
salt and pepper to taste

optional:
cooked, cubed chicken* or cooked, ground turkey

1~Soak beans overnight in 8 cups of water.
2~Drain beans and recover w/ fresh water.  Add 1-2 Tbsp. oil and a bit of salt and extra seasonings (oregano, cumin, chili powder) to the water.  Bring to a boil; cook for 1-2 hours, or until beans are firm-tender.
3~Remove most of the bean broth, set aside 2-3 cups.  You'll add some later to reach the right consistency.
4~Saute onion, garlic, and pepper for 5-10 minutes.  Add oregano, cumin, and chili powder.  Scrape mixture into chili pot.
5~Stir in pumpkin puree and crushed tomatoes (and meat if you so desire.) Add as much broth as you need to give the chili the consistency you like.
6~Slowly heat for an hour or more.  As the chili cooks taste it periodically, adding small amounts of salt and pepper until all the flavors come out.

*Roasting chickens are the cheapest way to feed my crowd meaty meals.  I usually roast the chicken one day and serve it with lots of veggies, potatoes, and bread.  (More sides mean more chicken leftover.)  After dinner I pick the chicken clean and put all the meat in the fridge.  The next night I can use that meat for a totally new meal--stew, casserole, enchiladas, pasta sauce, etc.  And that second meal usually leaves us enough leftovers for a second night.  That's three meals from one chicken.

August and Everything Since

I'm sitting here in my house.

Alone.

Not a creature is stirring because there are no creatures here!  It is a strange sort of peacefulness one feels when she finds herself alone where she never is, you know, alone.  I'm thinking, I could really learn to like this place. ;)

My man is heading up the Awana outing tonight because I am ex-haust-ed.  I've had a pregnant cold--the worst, goopiest kind--for a week now.  So he's taking the kids so I can stay home and rest.  While I'm resting I should do what I have not had the energy to do: update my ever lovin' blog.

Just when I start thinking that it's a total waste of time and I have nothing good to say and who really cares, I hear from friends that I need to write more.  It is very encouraging because I love to write, and chances are I'd give it up--at least through this forum--if I didn't feel like it was worth anything.  So thanks to my buddies who actually read about this small life and these small thoughts.

Here's the skinny:

We've Had Birthdays

With Li'l Bits b.day on 8.26, Gizmo's on 9.10, and Babydaddy's on 9.16, I've just ended my "busy season."  I like to make a big deal of birthdays, and I tend to go overboard with plans and intentions and expectations.  So by the time we get to Babydaddy's birthday he's lucky to get a card and a cake anymore!  I could write an entire post on how many of his own holidays he's forfeited because I've needed him to be my Hero that day.  He's my Mighty, Mighty Good Man, y'all.

First, Li'l Bit had her 9th birthday.  We had a birthday dinner the day of with the five of us and Stac.  I love that my kids have such good taste!  Her requested dinner was Shrimp Scampi, a green salad, and Herbed-Cheesey French Bread.  And a strawberry cake, of course. :)

The weekend after her big day she had her BIG celebration.  She had two of her favorite gal pals over for a delightful sleepover complete with specifically requested menu items and a Barbie movie. The rest of their ridiculously lovable family came over the following night for a big dinner of--again, great taste--homemade meatballs w/ pasta, salad, and bread.  And red velvet cake this time.

Next up was Gizmo.  The big 7!  What he really wanted was a huge birthday party with all his friends.  I just didn't have it in me.  And many of his friends wouldn't have been able to make it because schedules were filling up right and left with school and sports.  So we made up for it in other ways.  He ended up having a great day.  First I dared to attempt this cake:

(it's lloyd from lego's ninjago line)

Thankfully there were no major mishaps, and I didn't jump around my kitchen cussing and throwing a tantrum.  (Yes.  That has been known to happen.)  

On his big day, B.daddy took off work and we went to the Museum of Science.  Gizmo got to be in charge of where we went--there are a gazillion different exhibits.  It was the most relaxed, fun trip we've had to that museum to date.  To which he would reply that maybe we should put him in charge more often!  When we left the museum we met Stac at our all time favorite eatery.  (This is also a very busy season for Stac who has to keep up with all these festivities.)  Pranzi's was the first place we ever ordered from up here.  It was the day we moved in to our little apartment in Medford, and we've been in love since.  They always, ALWAYS had the best, cheapest cheeseburgers.  This year Pranzi got an amazing new location right on Boston Ave across from Tufts.  Obviously his prices had to go up just a little bit, but $5.75 is still pennies to pay for the best cheeseburger in the whole entire world.  So, we had a great dinner and got to catch up with Pranzi. (That's not actually his name, but he answers to it all the same.)

Finally we went back to the house to eat the gloriously green cake and open presents.  He was most pleased.  He's wanted this Storm Fighter Jet for so long I had to special order it. ;)

As usual, B.daddy's birthday celebrations were less than stellar.  I managed to make him the requested Taco Salad the night before his Monday birthday, but that's about all I could manage that day.  :(  Stac came over Monday night to watch the kids, so we could go out.  We had a great time eating and talking and dreaming and discussing names for the baby.  With pregnancy symptoms making my evenings the pits, it has been way too long since we've had a good date.  It was indescribably precious to simply sit and laugh with my husband for hours.  We work dang hard on this marriage, so it's nice to ENJOY the fruits of that labor.

We've Started School

I started early this year, since I had to end '12-'13 abruptly when morning sickness hit in June.  I started as soon as I could stay out of bed for most of the day.  That and I'm HAVING A BABY IN FEBRUARY.  So I need to get in front of the eight ball now while I have the chance.  Overall it's been a good experience.  I'm trying a new planner this year, which for a person who loves planning a good planner is hard to find.  I really like this one!  (I won't go into all the reasons I like it.  This post is getting rather long.)  Also, I've eeeaaaased us into the year.  We started with just scripture, handwriting, reading, and math.  After two weeks I added two subjects; after another two weeks I added two more; shortly I'll add our last two subjects which have the smallest number of lessons.  (And, NO, I do not cover every subject everyday!)  This technique has been invaluable to us after a very, very unstructured Summer.  I still struggle with my arch nemesis: focusing on lessons when I need to do everything else.  Especially when we're having people over.  But I will have to admit that I am getting better about that.....little by little.

We've Been Getting Sick and I've Been Getting Bigger

Sick as dogs up in here. :(  First, Li'l Bit, The Rascal, and Babydaddy had an ugly fever virus.  It all happened right around Gizmo's birthday and we were praying he wouldn't get sick, too.  He's spent two birthdays in the ER, and we really did not want to continue in that tradition on any level.  Thankfully he stayed well, and has developed a knack for keeping away from the sickies in the house.

Right after that virus passed The Rascal and I contracted the cold from Hell.  At least I think it is because I'm pregnant and pregnant sinuses are under enough pressure already.  Colds are worse and last longer, and my dadgum belly can't take all this coughing!  Alas, we are getting better, and again I'm hoping my other three sweeties don't get this horrible mucusy mess.

Now on to the good news!!

We found out this month that we're having another baby girl!!  We were all surprised.  I've been so sick--I was way more sick with Gizmo than with either of the girls--I just knew it was my apparent allergy to testosterone.  But, nope.  It's a sweet, little, estrogen-pumping bundle of pink waiting to bless our home!  Gizmo has been in denial.  He told the ultrasound tech repeatedly, "No. It's a boy."  He continued this for a while.  It was not accompanied by a bad attitude, anger, or spite, so we allowed it.  Recently though I've had to stop it.  He's worked out his disappointment, we've respected it, and now it's time to accept the truth and prepare his sensitive heart to love this little one.  Even if she is just a girl.

Waiting for our ultrasound.

Finally, and least importantly, I'm getting bigger.  My tummy feels tight on the inside and out.  Only time I can brag about having a firm stomach!  And I'm pretty sure, though I'm denying it in my heart of hearts, I have outgrown a pair of teeny, tiny maternity jeans my teeny, tiny friend loaned to me.
It's all cool.  I'm just feeling a little deer-in-the-headlights about continuing to get bigger, i.e. more uncomfortable, over the next 19+ weeks.  There is very little I can do about it though.  I'm careful to only eat when I'm hungry (most of the time) and only what my body needs (most of the time.) And when all is well I try to get to the gym in the morning to bounce my belly on the treadmill.  In the end, if this baby needs to be a big one, she's got to go somewhere.  And for now that's all up in my grill. :)  I'll take it!

at the museum of science, already feeling all squished in the middle.

watching b.daddy's vintage baseball game w/ stac.

Makin' Babies--Well, Just One. I Promise.

a blurry phone pic i took for my mom and sisters...

In my last two pregnancies my beautiful midwife has jokingly reemphasized that there's, "just one in there.  We know that for sure."  Coming from her, it is very validating.  I get big.  Well, whether or not I get big, my belly always gets really big.  And it starts early.  So it's nice for someone with expertise to say, "Yes, your belly is getting quite big, and it's okay."  In fact, it's wonderful!  I know you're dying to hear about ALL of my symptoms and cravings, aches and pains.  Weird dreams.  Impulsive shouting spells.  There are too many to name, and they are boring conversation.  I shall limit your exposure to just a few tidbits.

First off, the scale says less than five pounds, my belly says ten.  Mama looks pregnant!  I am astounded at the number of strangers who will inquire about my pregnant status.  I won't even ask a woman with a huge, eight month belly for fear of hurting her feelings.  But here I am at four measly months, and my grocery clerk wants to know if I'm having a boy or a girl!  And if it doesn't come up, Li'l Bit will volunteer the information.  She is very excited.  (That is an understatement.)

Second, I'm still nauseous.  At 16 weeks.  It has never lasted this long.  I'm pretty worn out with it, but I'm also just so dadgum happy that I'm still pregnant--and feeling some movement!!  It's hard to complain when there's a HUMAN growing inside of you--a human who will come out so warm and sweet and beautiful and utterly edible!  However positively-minded I am, I am very limited.  Rarely can I venture far from home.  As school responsibilities quickly approach I must batten down the hatches and dedicate ANY energy and well-being to the education of my kiddos and-if we're really lucky-hanging with my man.

Finally, I am glad this, my hardest pregnancy yet, has come at this point in my life.  I have three amazing kiddos who make me want so badly to make even more of them. Also, I know how terrible a miscarriage feels.  There is nothing that could make me wish my pregnancy woes away.  I understand that woes are a part of it.  With knowledge and wisdom come pain and sorrow.  With pregnancy and babies come nausea and exhaustion--and a whole lot more!  As I said earlier, I'm feeling the baby's tiny flutterings and bumps and those are always the sweetest reminder that every single discomfort is worth the reward at the end.

Every Second is a Response

When we are brought low there are several options for response.  Shall I curl into myself and disappear?  Shall I exude confidence and positivity to everyone's amazement?  Secretly marinate my brain with alcohol every night?  Eat half a chocolate cake at 3 am? (I like that one.)  Lash out at every person who dares cross me? Shut up and just trudge through day by day? Cry? Whimper? Scream? Work? Study? Plead? Destroy? Create?
I tend to wax philosophical, so I see at the root of any response is our response to God.  Do I believe He loves me despite my plight, or do I believe He just doesn't care-that He's not even there?
Do I choose God....or Myself?

A couple weeks ago I was pretty worn out.  I had been in bed with nausea and fatigue and feeling totally useless--not something a girl wants to be--for six weeks.  Then I started getting the migraines that mark the transition between the first and second trimester.  Wait a minute, I'm thinking.  These are supposed to start after the nausea goes away.  Instead I spent a week with full blown nausea and full blown migraines.  I was weary.  Too thankful this baby is still alive and inside of me, I couldn't bring myself to complain.  But I could certainly feel like I didn't know how much more I could take.

At the turn of the next week I started bleeding....again.  Now I'm freaked out.  Every terrible story I've heard or read about lost babies, especially our own, flashed through my visual cortex.  We dove headlong into a drawn out week of figuring out what's going on.
One afternoon my husband and I were sitting in the waiting room before a hormone level check.  I'm raw.  I'm bare.  I'm scared.  I have no strength left.  The only strength in me is the Spirit's whispering and I'm trying to hear it.  The tears started falling and I could not make them stop.  I'm crying in front of people I don't even know.  Big, beautiful pregnant women with babies so big they could survive on the outside.  On my inside there was nothing but silence.  And my heart beating, God, please...God, please...God, please...

I knew I could be at that place.  The place that comes right before you have to respond to tragedy....and God.  And in that place I know that God does not have to let me have this baby in order to prove His love for me.  I can beg and plead, but even if He doesn't, can't, won't--I don't even know...  But the onus is not on Him.  He is who He is, and He has proven His love for me.  And I have accepted it.  I have committed my entire being to it.

But what if the answer is no?

No. You can't have this baby.

No. Nothing will be easy for you.
No. Your husband will not love you.
No. You will not find a job that provides.
No. Your body will not be healed.
No. You will always struggle with this addiction.

What if I'm about to take the first step onto another long, hard road?  How am I going to respond to God this time?  I realized that in that place I already have to choose my response.  Every second is a response to God.

I'm on a tightrope.  I don't know if there's a net or not.  I'm terrified there's not.  I can cling to the bristly rope with my hands and legs, but I'm going to get tired.  I will bounce between self-confidence and terror.  And I will get tired.  Or I can rest in God.  He's on the tightrope with me.  He has promised to always be with me.  I can cling here, exhausted, bleeding, and terrified, or I can crawl into His lap and rest.
Rest.
Of course He could theoretically keep perfect balance for all of eternity.  He is God after all.  But if I am to fall, I am to fall.  I am merely a human in a Very Broken World.  Falling is inevitable.  I am not exempt.  My options are to free fall, my bare back slapping the hard ground, or fall within the embrace of the Father who has proven over and over and over again that He cares for me, He wants to protect me, and my hurts are His hurts.  He has shown me in history, in science, in math, in scripture, and in my life that He is trustworthy.  He knows that trust is hard for me, so He's highlighted all of those facts  especially for me--in really bright, highlighter yellow--which is just one more reason I know He loves me and I can trust Him.

So I choose God.

I want this baby.  So bad, I want to embrace this wet, warm baby some freezing cold day in February and weep over the miraculous gift.  I want my husband and children to stay with me until I'm so old I'm funny.  I want so many things that I may not get to have.  But more than anything, I want--I need to rest in my Father.  I need to trust Him and love Him and rely on Him for the very air I breathe.  Every breath is a response to God.

Apart from Him I am merely a human in a Very Broken World.

*By the way, all is well with baby and me.  We figured it out and it's not dangerous.  We're breathing relief and celebrating every day of sustained pregnancy.  (And still waiting for these migraines to go away.  All in good time.)

The Making of An Announcement

The word is finally out.  We are TOTALLY pregnant!

We never waited long to share our news.  With Li'l Bit we announced at week 5.  Gizmo:  week 5 and 1 day.  The Rascal formerly known as Ladybug:  week 5 and 3 days.  I might have been only 4 weeks preggo when we told our family about our fourth pregnancy.  Obviously, after losing that teeny, tiny thumbprint of a baby we have different feelings about when to spread the good news.  After much thought it basically boiled down to this:  I wanted to wait until our announcement could be a true celebration.  Any time before 12 weeks felt like a tentative celebration.  "Hey y'all!  I'm pregnant!  (I sure hope I stay that way.)"  Yeah, not fun. 

So we finally reached 10 weeks.  We took the kids to see Jill--she's my amazing, loving, compassionate midwife.  She caught Gizmo and The Rascal, and she has been my mother hen--a very highly educated mother hen--these last few months.  So we all piled into an examining room to let the kids hear the sweet thumping heartbeat.  It was a little anticlimactic as most things are with my kids.  I thought their jaws would drop to the floor and their eyes would bug out.  No.  They responded the same as they do to everything.  Chill.  Nonchalant.  "Yeah, that's cool."  It was, however, later that afternoon when each of them came to me in their own way to express their wonder at an actual human being beating inside of me.  Thumper, we've temporarily named him/her. 

A few days later Stac took our announcement pics so we'd be ready to send them out at 12 weeks.  I wanted to tell EVERYONE personally--without making seventy phone calls.  (Plus there's the whole which-sister-do-I-call-first issue.)  We also have a lot of friends that we couldn't call, but we wanted them to know without finding out through the grapevine.  You know, Facebook.  That's why I wanted to do a paper announcement.  So snail mail it is!  (And snail mail is really fast, in case you were wondering.)

I had this great idea that involved the kids putting balloons under their shirts.  Apparently I forgot to run that by them.  When I explained it to Gizmo on picture day his whole countenance fell.  Totally defeated, he mumbled, "I'm not doing that."  Which meant, I really don't want to do this, but I know you're going to make me.  Well....below you see me trying to cajole him into cooperating.  He would not be cajoled, so I finally had to just tell him he was going to do it...and he was going to smile.  After all that he really was a good sport about it.  Time to take some pictures! 

We soon learned that telling the kids to do "whatever you want" wasn't very productive.  They wanted to stop taking pictures and just go for a walk already.

 And of course there was plenty of goofing off because taking pictures gets really boring for kids:

 I'm not sure what I'm saying here, but it looks very important:

 This one, below, won third place.  We loved the setting, and the kids faces--the trickiest part--were all relatively pleasant.  But the plan was for B.daddy and I to be smooching in the pic, so we had to scratch this one.

Below is the one that came in as a very close second.  Stac had the adorable idea to have this be the front of the announcement with "Make way for the fourth duckling!" printed in the bottom right corner.  I mean, how cute is that?!  In the end, we decided the winner was just so Us that we had to use it.  But we totally wanted to send both announcements to everyone. :)

This is the winner:

When we were trying to decide between the ducklings and this one, we would just chuckle every time we'd click back to this picture.  The kids' expressions are all pretty appropriate for how they were feeling about the whole picture-taking mess, and B.daddy and I are, well, at it again!  (I'll let you explain that one to your own kids.)  The smooch and "At it again..." were Stac's idea, which is so funny because we totally gross her out. ;)  The announcement was a postcard so the back just says when baby is due (February) and praise God and we love y'all.

I got the announcements in the mail the day I turned 12 weeks.  I addressed them and mailed them before the final mail pick up at 5pm.  It's the most efficient thing I've done since morning sickness hit.  I could not wait for everyone to know!  

Call Back

If you have gone a little way ahead of me, call back--
'Twill cheer my heart and help my feet along the stony track;
And, if perchance, faith's light is dim, because the oil is low,
Your call will guide my lagging course as wearily I go.

Call back, and tell me that He went with you into the storm;
Call back, and say He kept you when the forest's roots were torn;
That when the heavens thundered and the earthquake shook the hill,
He bore you up and held you when the very air was still.

O friend, call back and tell me, for I cannot see your face;
They say it glows with triumph, and your feet bound in the race;
But there are mists between us, and my spirit eyes are dim,
And I cannot see the glory, though I long for word of Him.

But if you'll say He heard you when your prayer was but a cry,
And if you'll say He saw you through the night's sin-darkended sky,
If you have gone a little way ahead, O friend call back--
'Twill cheer my heart and help my feet along the stony track.

~author unknown.

Food. It Does a Body Good.

It's wicked hot up here.
When our "ancestors" built this house back in 1832 they didn't leave room for central air ducts.  They also built the ceilings nice and low to trap the heat during those long, cold winters.  So we're kind of hot.  My tiny kitchen gets super hot, when used.  My solution: don't use it!  Brilliant.  Oh, but we still have to eat?  Everyday?
How then do we eat full, healthy meals everyday AND keep my brow dry?
The Crockpot.  She's not just for winter time anymore!  I do the work in the cool morning hours, and there's no giant heat source running in the kitchen.  Just a cute, little pot. (Mine is actually really big, but you know what I mean.)
Using the Crockpot in Summer has really challenged my creativity.  Maybe the heat is making my brain sluggish, but when I see a Crockpot I think of Chili and Golden Autumn Stew. That's it. When I think of Summer food I think of the grill.  I did that last Summer, and let me tell ya'. That thing puts off A LOT of heat.  I wasn't sweating in the kitchen, but I was boiling outside.
So. Summer Crockpot ideas.  I've found that Mexican food bodes well with Summer heat.  I did some chicken tacos via Crockpot that were delicious, and so easy.  I did Taco Soup--wonderful.  Last night we had Tex-Mex Chicken and Rice--so easy, so filling, so good.  In lieu of grilling burgers or chicken for sandwiches, I've done Sloppy Joes in the Pot, as well as BBQ Pulled-Chicken.  What I'm really excited about, though, are my Fancy Franks and Beans.
We love Red Beans and Rice, but it is a cold weather meal in our house.  We love it because it is super yummy, extra filling, and you can make a ton of it for next to nothing.  You can also leave the meat out and still have a complete meal.  I've been trying to think of a Summer alternative for years.  I have finally found it!
Fancy Franks and Beans.  The beans are white, and you use white wine and fresh herbs for your flavor.  Although you use a lot of herbs, they are whole and bunched during cooking and removed before serving.   Your sweet kids (and husband) don't have to look at a bowl of dark, green broth, trying to figure out how to convince you to NOT make them eat it. :)  The flavor is very full and complex, but also clear and light.  It is perfect for Summer!  Here's the recipe:

Fancy Franks and Beans

(these quantities are for a large Crockpot and lots of empty bellies. you can easily cut it down to size.)
ingredients~
1 lb. bag great northern beans, soaked overnight
olive oil
1 medium onion, chopped
9 garlic cloves, minced*
2-3 pounds smoked sausage (or Italian sausage, if y'all like that sort of thing)
2 cups dry white wine
15 fresh parsley stems
15 fresh sprigs thyme
5 fresh sprigs oregano
4 bay leaves
4 chicken bouillon cubes

prep~
~Put your soaked and drained beans into the Crockpot.  Add enough fresh water to allow the beans to cook thoroughly, turn Pot on high.  Add the bouillon and wine.
~Gather herbs into bunches and tie together with kitchen twine.  Add bunches and bay leaves to Pot.
~Heat olive oil in skillet and cook onions, garlic, and 1/3 of your sausage, cubed, until onion is softened.  Add to Pot.  Cook on high for about 6 hours, stirring occasionally and testing beans for softness.  As soon as the beans are soft enough, turn the Pot to low.
~At the 6 hour mark, remove the herbs and bay leaves from the Pot. (If there seems to be way too much broth, you may remove some and set it aside.)
~Slice the rest of your sausages and saute in olive oil.  Add to beans, and serve it up!  You can also top each bowl with chopped fresh herbs.

Everyone in this household loved this recipe--even Bruiser!  And all three kids liking the same bean dish is kind of a big deal.  The recipe is pretty simple, so you could take it any which way you want, depending on who you are cooking for, of course.  I'd like to taste it with some fresh, Summer tomatoes added at the end.  But my fam would barf. ;)

*Best garlic tip I've heard to date:  in your grocer's produce section, buy the fresh, peeled garlic.  Put it in your freezer, take out cloves as needed, leave @ room temp for about a minute, and then you can mince it.  Better flavor than anything dried or preserved and easier than peeling them yourself.

Not My Day

This is a tale of woe.  From the depths of despair and stupidity.  

Woe.

Woe to him who reads it.

Woe to her who lived it.

We have a 27'X27' (as in a 729 square foot) plot at the community gardens.  The cost of this giant plot is less than it would take B.daddy to build a tiny raised bed, not to mention saving him the labor, and it is along our favorite walking path.  There's a pond, wetlands, SWANS!  And so our story begins.

We've had the plot for a few weeks but were informed that most people don't plant until after Memorial Day because our cold climate is unpredictable.  (As if on cue we had a cold, rainy Memorial Day weekend.)  Before the plots were divvied out, the city had the ground tilled, and it looked great.  Dark, soft dirt everywhere.  Hardly a weed in sight. We didn't visit the plot between claim staking day and yesterday.  Why did I choose the first heat wave of 2013 to do my planting?  Well, because I'm a genius.  That's why.  After going all the way back to our house to retrieve the map to find the plot belonging to us--hiccup numero uno--this is what we found:

Hiccup #2

Okay.  I can handle this.  I can do this.  All I can do at this point is do this.  We pulled on our work gloves and got to it.  (B.daddy was at work making the money.)  The kids helped as best they could, and they complained a lot.  They observed that--except for Li'l Bit--they in fact did NOT want to be farmers, and they would even rather be at home doing school work.  This was after a full day of school work.  But after a few hours, we had pulled all the mammoth weeds and leveled the field so to speak.

We still had a lot to do the next day (today), but we had accomplished a great deal and had the achy backs and dirty knees to prove it.  I couldn't plant yet.  I was so anxious to get those plants into the ground yesterday, but I had no idea how much work that would entail.  The longer these plants are in containers, the greater chance they will die.  I can't seem to keep anything alive unless it is in soil that God Himself has put in place.  I.e. In the ground.

So we left our sad little plants on our plot to spend the night alone. (Trust me, they're better off that way.  Black thumbs, people.  Black thumbs!)

On the docket for this morning: rake and hoe.  Rake and rake and rake and rake, and if I'm lucky I'll get to hoe.  The morning was going well.  The kids had their picnic breakfast in the designated kid corner, and we even remembered sunscreen.  Their complaints--they weren't even working at this point--were shut down by some mean lady who showed up and said, "I do not want to hear one more complaint THE ENTIRE MORNING!  BUTTON IT UP!"  Weird.  Don't know who that was.  About fifteen minutes into my raking I heard a rustle in the weeds beside me.  Knowing for sure it would be a snake, I was pleasantly surprised to see this big dude:

Aww, how sweet.  He's like our very own garden pet.  Maybe he'll come cool himself near our plot all Summer. (Wait for it.)

The kids adored him, of course.  (As well as the rabbit and groundhog we saw.)  They tried to feed him a cracker.  He didn't bite.  He eventually burrowed under a pile of weeds and slept.  By that time I wanted to join him.  I was crazy hot.  I had been up since 4:30 for my morning workout, I hadn't eaten a thing, I have a highly pressurized head cold, but I was going to get my plants in the ground dadgumit!!  So I kept beating the ground.  Lift, whack, pull, lift, whack, pull.

I finally had enough weed-free ground for two or three rows, so I got to hoein'.  Much to my chagrin, hoeing is exactly like raking.  Same exact muscle movement being executed by the same exact muscles that the good Lord must have forgotten to give me.  Somehow, someway I hoed three sides.  My arms were spaghetti and I went to Kid Corner for cold water and a sit down.  Now B.daddy and I had met a guy on claim staking day. A very nice guy, he's running a nonprofit for kids and he was getting plots for them to work on together.  Well, as soon as my tushie hit the picnic blanket, I hear, "Oh, are you here to help?"  I look up and I see that guy.  In a split second, my brain--which should always work so well but DOESN'T--connected all the dots and I realized.  I'm on the wrong plot.

Talk about deflation.  I was so proud of all my hard work, only to find out I can't find one square plot on the simplest map known to mankind.  I had been to the plot before.  B.daddy held the map before me and explained exactly how to find our plot when I returned.  But did I find it? No.  I poured sweat over someone else's land.  

We can't switch plots.  His organization has four connected plots, and ours is too far away from it.  He did say they would help weed our plot tomorrow.  He has a few volunteers coming in for a work day.  Sometime between now and then I need to convince myself that I can get back out there and do the whole thing over again.  The thing that really, really stinks:  our plot isn't nearly as weedy as this one was.  I could have been so much further along.  I should conclude this paragraph with a metaphor pertaining to wishing for what you can't have.  But I screw those up all the time, too.

So I'm sitting here in front of my A/C.  I'm drinking ice cold lemon water, blowing my nose constantly, and rubbing Mentholatum on the raw skin.  I'm pouring out my far too wordy tale of woe to any and all who care to hear.

In short, I'm licking my wounds.

  

Privacy Policy

You know how you are constantly getting those plain envelopes from financial institutions with plain old privacy policies inside?  That's got to be the most boring mail on the face of the earth.  Anyway, I've been feeling very private over the last few months, which makes my blog quite boring.  I believe we all go through these phases when, for whatever reason, we want to keep our thoughts close.  Social media makes this desire feel strange, since we've grown accustomed to sharing, liking, and commenting on every possible idea from here to Timbuktu. Nevertheless, when my gut tells me to shut my mouth and ponder in silence, that is what I must do.

However, one thing I can do--and have neglected miserably--is give simple updates on what is going on with our fam.  I.e. cute kid stories and pictures.  Let's face it, the kids are getting cuter everyday, but B.daddy and I are just getting older.

We have been doing very well.  As the weather has warmed up we've stayed very busy and happy playing hard with friends and working hard around the old homestead.  Both activities include large doses of sunlight, which we were desperate for!

Above you see the hill "behind" our house.  We live on a one way street approaching the back of our house.  Our front yard is our back yard and vice versa.  So the first sight of our house is from behind; it is NOT it's best side.  We can't do anything about the rock facade yet, but we can do something about the landscape.  We had three trees removed.  The kids thought this was awesome.  We literally left the house to make a Target run, and when we came back the trees were gone.  Never even saw the tree guys.   We've (mostly B.daddy) transplanted azaleas, lilacs, and hostas.  Even though everything is in Transplanted Mopey Plant Mode, it looks a thousand times better.  Symmetry people!  Symmetry!

Enjoying a park play date in New Hampshire and meeting our tiniest, newest friend that day.  

The kids were listening to Nancy Drew.  They love the stories, but if there's any mention of a ghost they get all giggly scared.  I believe Li'l Bit is trying to shield Rascal's ears. :)  She usually doesn't listen to them, but I think that has more to do with her not wanting to be still.

Here we are taking our end of the year field trip. (Rain was in the forecast, and my children were prepared.)  We studied flying creatures with two other families.  To celebrate the fact that we actually made it through the whole year together, we visited the Harvard Museum of Natural History.  It is a hidden gem, and worth the visit!

We are trying out some vegetable and herb gardening this year.  Instead of building a raised bed in our limited yard space, we're borrowing some community garden space.  We are very excited to see what comes of it.  I am cautiously excited since I've managed to kill half of the seeds I started indoors.  If I do have a green thumb it is restricted to the great outdoors.

Last weekend was a great one for the kids!  On Saturday we got to take them to a spring carnival to ride rides and play games.  Then Sunday our town was having a Touch-a-Truck.  We were there from opening to close!  They got to climb in all kinds of crazy vehicles, Li'l Bit got to make a free arrangement of flowers--a little out of place, and we got to see a helicopter land.  I also got to see a bunch of selfish parents pushing their kids to the front of lines, but that's a hopeless complaint.  People are selfish.  It happens.

Babydaddy went to California last week.  My kids have learned that that means they get to watch movies at dinner time and sleep in my room all night.  I don't mind it, I mean seriously it's the sweetest thing in the world.  I didn't sleep very well with all those elbows and knees, but I never do when he's gone anyway.

Our school year is winding down.  We've technically finished history and science.  So now I'm just focusing on reading, writing, and arithmetic, which is plenty to keep us busy.  But how can I interrupt them when they're doing something this cute?!  They were "doing school" for their animals and dolls.  Gizmo needed to review his addition facts anyway, so I left them to it.  And I'm very surprised to say that plate (their breakfast) never did come tumbling down the back stairs.  I just knew it would.

So, there you have it.  Our little life over the last couple months.  The sun is shining, the kids are thriving, and B.daddy and I are soaking up every second.

Reptilian Behavior

"'Think of it,' said Frog.
   'We will skip through the meadows
   and run through the woods
   and swim in the river.
   In the evenings we will sit
   right here on this front porch
   and count the stars.'
  'You can count them, Frog,'
   said Toad.  'I will be too tired.
   I am going back to bed.'"

Feeling more like a Toad than a Frog tonight.

Good night, all.

Love That Dirty Water

This is why I love Boston; why I've loved it since we moved here as newlyweds in 2003:

You know where you stand.

Yeah, the city is awesome and the food is pretty spectacular. (When you can manage to taste it with three babies to support.  Which is not often.  Which makes it even more spectacular.)  The history is obviously incredible with both physical and dramatic portrayals year-round.  The architecture is to die for, and there's a park to play in every five blocks.

But what I love most is the culture, the people.  Yes, you read that correctly.  The people.  The honk-at-you, scream-at-you, flip-you-off people.  Do I enjoy being screamed at while I'm pulled over after a fender bender?  No, of course not.  Do I enjoy being flipped off? No.  (That's why I keep my eyes on the road--so as to not see that wagging finger.  Goodness knows I send them 'awagging everyday.)

Two weeks ago, when all of the Go Boston! social media stuff was floating around, I came across an article.  25, or some odd, Reasons I Love Boston.  The one about our roads was my favorite.  Look at a map of NYC and it's a grid, "So you can get from point A to point B."  Look at a map of Boston proper, it's a mess of jumbled up roads, "Because F* You."  The conditions here are harsh.  The weather, the traffic, the parking, the cost. of. everything, the truly mean people.  I have found there are two types of people in eastern Mass: those who love living here and would die to protect it, and those who hate living here and can't wait for a transfer back out of this place.  In the end, I know this city owes me nothing, and makes no promises to accommodate my desires.  I know where I stand.

Here's the thing:  When I lug my minivan into the city, I am under no delusion that the 625,000 strangers living there like me or will be nice to me.  Maybe you're wondering why this is a good thing?  Well, let's just be honest.  Not until you and I have three, separate, personal interactions can I decide whether or not you are trustworthy and likable.  Why smile and pretend that's not happening?  And if we know we'll never have those three interactions to begin with, why mess with it?  I know it might sound harsh, but it's true that I cannot be a true friend to everyone I pass on the street.  So you keep your eyes on the goal and walk fast.  (Or you will get run over.)

Let's say we make it past first base....When I'm meeting someone new here, I see two critical eyes examining my motives.  And I'm cool with that, because I'm doing the exact same thing.  New Englanders have high outer walls.  The wall says, "I'm busy, I've got people, who are you?"  I think I came out of the womb with that wall around me! (It's called being an introvert.)  This wall is not insurmountable by any means.  But one must be far more serious about scaling it than in other cultures where it's much lower.  A low outer wall often means the inner wall is very high, which can be shocking when the outer wall was so easy and smiley.  But once you get over the high outer wall, you're in.  The inner wall isn't nearly as imposing as the outer.  And that is where our story has a happy ending.

The friends we have made here, who really live here, are incredibly faithful.  It's as if we've made a conscious decision to plant our feet on this historic soil, we've tested one another in the fires of friendship, and now we're good.  We are loyal, and maybe even a little protective.  Because, you know, it's hard living here.  We've got to look out for one another.