Get Them Outside

Spring is coming. I promise. She's been pretty elusive in Idaho, but we caught a glimpse of the shy gal last Friday. We reached a sunny 70 degrees, so we decided to take the boys fishing. The fishing was a bit of a bust, but it brought joy to my heart seeing our boys out in the sunshine, gathering worms, finding "perfect" sticks, digging in the dirt, trying to catch snakes, and throwing rocks in the water (probably not helping our chances of catching a fish, but who cares?)

Boys are meant to be outside. Something in my mother heart tells me so when I see them playing outside. This may be true of girls as well, but I'm a mother of boys and can only speak from my experience. Spring has gone back into hiding around here, but the short peek we got has reminded me of all the things I'm excited about for summer. Here are a few.

1. Earning serious mommy brownie points by simply taking my kids to the park and maybe meeting up with friends and other moms.
2. Weenie and s'more roasts.
3. Coming home with library books. It reminds me of my childhood. I'll admit I don't love herding children while AT the library since this brood is quite prone to upsetting delicate librarian sensibilities, but I love watching the kids pore over their piles of books in the car and at home.
4. Being able to see cute baby rolls on exposed arms and legs.
5. Surprising the kids with $.30 ice cream cones at Arctic Circle.

Spring and summer are full of the simple pleasures in life. What are you guys looking forward to?

My Need to Remember

Parenting is hard. Being a stay-at-home parent is particularly hard. I’ve had a hard couple of weeks with two sick kids. To be frank, I feel horribly guilty even mentioning anything that I may be struggling with short of life-threatening illness. Every day I view more images and read more stories about those impacted by the recent terrible natural disaster in Japan. So many have lost everything…loved ones, their homes, their livelihood, their every worldly possession. Some have yet to discover the fate of those they hold most dear. I think about them and pray for them constantly. And those in New Zealand and those in Haiti and those in other parts of the world whose countries are torn apart by war and bloodshed and unspeakable violence. I have a home, I have two normally healthy children, I have a loving spouse who is employed. My body works, my mind (usually) works, and I am healthy. Am I really so self-absorbed as to wallow in the inconvenience of my blessings?

We were not able to grow our family easily. We felt very, very strongly about adoption. In examining our options through adoption, we knew that adopting through the foster care system was the right path for us. So many children need forever families and we so wanted children. We didn’t care what gender or age or race. We just wanted a family. Our journey was a long one filled with endless meetings, heartache, court hearings and finally triumph. The day our boys were declared legally ours will forever be imprinted on my heart. I felt they were mine long before that day. The moment I met them, they responded to something in me that had been empty for a long time. From that first meeting, they were mine and I was theirs. I did not need time to bond with them. They were my loves and we were forever bound together. We hoped for them. We wished for them. We prayed for them. We waited for them.

I need to remember this. I need to remember that they are perfect little miracles in the process of becoming. I find that it is all too easy to get bogged down in the day to day life of parenting—laundry, dishes, grocery shopping, cleaning, gardening, more laundry, more dishes, food prep and constant toddler entertainment, all while imparting necessary truths and the rules of civility and politeness and stoking creativity. And I want our house to feel like our home. And it needs some TLC. So then there’s that.

Having sick kids the last couple of weeks has left me drowning under endless piles of laundry, a house in desperate need of cleaning, empty cupboards, and a general lack of energy to dig in due to my own internal battle of the germs. And the fact that I cried at the end of “Nanny McPhee Returns” the other day leads me to believe that I’m hormonally a bit off as well. Enough said. I feel overwhelmed.

This morning started with Eric (2) crying as he got out of bed (as he has every morning for the past many, many mornings). He had wet through again. As with nearly every morning, I would once more have to wash all of his bedding and his stuffed animals (he insists on sleeping with several “babies” every night) and his pillow before nap time. Once his diaper was removed and set aside, I started to wipe him down with a warm cloth and he started to pee…and pee…and pee. By the time I got him on the potty, 3 rooms had been “sprayed” as well as my clothes and into my hair. Eric’s general dismay at having peed ALL OVER culminated in such heavy sobbing on the potty, that he then threw up…all over me and the floor and the shower curtain. THREE ROOMS of rugs and walls and floors. ONE MAMA fully clothed and complete with too-long, mop-like hair. All covered in pee. And then there was the vomit. I left him sitting on the potty filled with the one tablespoon of pee that had actually made it in (incidentally now the one clean area in all three rooms). I sat back on my knees in front of him and slow, salty tears began the flow.

I was so hoping we could actually leave the house this morning. A walk perhaps? Or maybe a trip to my favorite home improvement store to pick up paint swatches? Or even just a trip to wash the car. I simply wanted to get the boys up, dressed, and fed so that we could actually venture outside. Please can we just all feel well enough to leave the house today? But now there was pee and vomit to clean up, another shower for me, a toddler to console (and his distraught brother in the other room), and bedding, bath rugs, clothes and a shower curtain to wash. My long-anticipated new rug in the hallway, not yet two weeks old, covered in pee. Sigh. BIG sigh.

At the breakfast table, I tried to rally, but I was feeling downtrodden and trapped in a domestic prison of my own making. Please don’t misunderstand. I LOVE being the parent who stays at home with the kids. I LOVE being domestic. I love playing with the kids, I love cleaning and baking and cooking and creating a home for our family. And I usually don’t even mind the laundry. This is my thing. MY THING. But this morning, my thing felt like it had a vice-like grip on my wrists and was holding me back in every way imaginable. Sigh. I was trying to hold back tears as I contemplated another day of two-year-old tears, snotty noses, laundry, cleaning, and seemingly endless patience.

Then Hillary sent this:

To all you awesome Moms (aka Cathedral Builders), please see the note below.

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?'
Obviously not; no one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible. 'The invisible Mom.'
Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a TV Guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Pick me up right around 5:30, please.'
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, she's gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England .
Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.'
It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: 'To Charlotte , with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'
In the days ahead I would read--no, devour--the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work:

1. No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names.

2. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished.

3. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.

4. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.' And the workman   replied, 'Because God sees everything.'
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.'
At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride.
I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, 'You're gonna love it there.’ As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

I know this is probably making the rounds on the Internet. But this is exactly what I needed to today to remind me to truly look at my little ones and their perfect little souls. I needed to remember that my every day is filled with building a strong foundation for them and for our family. I needed the remember that they are masterpieces in the making. I needed to remember they are my loves and we are forever bound together. We hoped for them. We wished for them. We prayed for them. We waited for them. We rejoice in them. They are our dream come true. We are so blessed.

And the new hallway rug is only a rug, pee and all.

Sweets

I've made two fabulous treats lately, which is a strange thing to do when trying to lose weight. Maybe my willpower will become stronger the more frequently I test it? Probably not. But I do enjoy making treats, and sometimes the occasion calls for it. On Thursday we were invited over to watch the Cougs and were asked to bring the treat. So being died in the wool blue, through and through. We all donned our BYU apparel, and I whipped up some BYU mint brownies. It probably sounds silly to anyone who hasn't attended BYU, but yes, there is an official BYU mint brownie. If you've been to an event catered by BYU then you've probably seen these delicious morsels and most likely devoured them. BYU even has its very own carbonated beverage called Y Sparkle that is also delicious, but the brownies are definitely the shining star. You can find the brownie recipe here. I made it without nuts because there's always someone in every group who hates nuts in brownies or cookies (I was proved right when it turned out our host was himself a nut-hater.) It doesn't include a chocolate frosting recipe, so I used the frosting from this recipe but used less milk. These brownies take a bit of time since you have to wait for then to cool and then frost twice, but they were dih-vine.

Now that I'm teaching the 12 and 13-year-olds in Sunday, I am making treats every Saturday to bring to class. You may say I'm pandering...and you'd be right, but I'm not too worried about it. Every single kid in my class is polite, appreciative, and participates. Seriously. I figured this calling was my turn to receive my comeuppance having been fairly hard on Sunday School teachers in my adolescence, but no! Huzzah! To my credit, I do follow the lesson outline, and to their credit, they're just better kids than I was. So I don't mind in the least rewarding them. This past Sunday, I made toasty coconut macaroons from the fabulous Alton Brown. But Dave has improved his recipe by suggesting we top each cookie with a round of melted chocolate and then allow them to cool. Inspired! As a caviat, I will add that you really do need to use parchment paper or a silicon baking mat because the egg white will stick like crazy even if you use PAM.

Try these recipes out if you dare. You may need to get the surplus out of the house as quickly as possible. Indulgence AND generosity! What a perfect pairing.

Beware My Own "Creativity"

Over here in Idaho we have been struggling in the afternoons. The hours between when the boys come home from school and when Dad comes home have been less than ideal. To be frank, they've been miserable. The walk home has often times been "freezing," or "boiling hot," or "SOOO long!" Battles have already been fought over "Jeff would only walk as slow as a tortoise" and "Ethan ran away and wouldn't wait for me." Even on days when the walk home seems to have passed pleasantly enough, the moment I ask for school things to be picked up and put away, we're off to the races.

Well, after a couple of particularly bad afternoons, I decided No More! I was going to be waiting for the boys with a dance party when they arrived home. We would have a few moments of fun right amid the backpacks and shoes and papers. This would set a wonderful tone for the rest of the afternoon. What a fun Mom I am, I thought. With a little creative thinking, what a fabulous solution I've found. What a success story it will be for the family journal. I even set up the camera on a timer to document my winning mother moment. Well, it was not the victory I had anticipated. In case you're wondering, little boys still like to hit and kick and fight even when music is playing. I simply began shouting over the music for Ethan to put Jeff's boots down (an infuriating affront to Jeff) and for Jeff to stop swinging the ball around and "accidentally" hitting his brothers (producing injuries that may never heal.) Our home was once again a den of contention.

Disappointed, I was prompted to say a prayer with my children to help our afternoon go better. I went into the playroom where my eldest was seething on the couch. I called for Jeff to join us. He was unable to hear me in our sprawling and expansive 1500 sq. ft. house, so I went to retrieve him. I asked the boys if they thought our afternoon was going well. "Of course not, because of YOU!" I pushed on. I asked if they thought we should say a prayer to ask our Heavenly Father to help our afternoon go better. "I guess." A high recommendation indeed. I asked them to kneel with me. No response. I asked again if they would please kneel with me. "I AM!" Once we were all kneeling together, I offered a heartfelt prayer for our family. I asked specifically for the help that each of us needed, including myself. And voila! The rest of the afternoon went great, not perfect, but great.

I think I am often guilty of searching for the creative solution to my problems when the perfect solution has already been given. The answer is not a dance party. The answer is prayer. The answer is not the newest self-improvement fad. The answer is the scriptures and the teachings of our prophets. I've learned this lesson again.

Pi Day

Hi Sisters!  This is my first post on our blog.  I'm excited to contribute and hope I can think of interesting things to post about more often.

My sister-in-law, Liz, informed me yesterday that it was national Pi Day.  That's right.  Not "Pie Day" but, rather, "Pi Day."  Pi Day is celebrated by math enthusiasts around the world on March 14th (Pi = 3.1415926535…).  Well, we actually did make it "Pie Day" by eating a homemade pie.  You see, I married into a pie-loving family.  The Munks really, really like pie.  I have adopted that same enthusiasm and love for pie over the past few years.  But, I also feel strongly about eating healthy so we don't eat pie all that often (just when Aunt Liz comes to visit because she is a pie maker master!).  So, I knew Alex would be pretty excited about coming home to a homemade pie last night.  I was right.

Now, I know pie isn't a health food or even remotely close.  But, I decided to make it a touch better for us by making the crust whole wheat.  I used a recipe that I found on the back of a bag of Bob's Red Mill whole wheat pastry flour (I love Bob's Red Mill products... they should be paying me to say this!).  Alex and I both thought it turned out really well.  It was flaky and delicious.  So, I thought I'd share it with you.

Flaky Whole Wheat Pie Crust

2 cups whole wheat pastry flour
1 tsp salt
3/4 cup unsalted butter, chilled
5 to 8 Tbsp ice water

Sift flour and salt into a large mixing bowl.  Cut butter into 12 pieces and rub into dry ingredients until the mixture resembles a coarse meal with some pea-size pieces.  Sprinkle water over mixture, one tablespoon at a time and knead lightly just until a dough forms.  Form dough into a ball.  Cut in half and press each into a disc shape.  Wrap each disc in waxed paper or plastic wrap and refrigerate for 30 minutes before rolling.  Yield: 2-9" single pie crusts or 1-9" double pie crust.  Crust will bake alone with the filling for the pie or pre-bake at 375 degrees for 25-30 minutes.

As you can tell by the pictures, it was an apple pie.  Instead of using a double crust, I covered the top with the same topping I use for apple crisp (oats, flour, brown sugar, spices, and butter mixture).   The pie was a hit with Eliza and Zoie.  Below is a picture of Eliza (yes, her hair is out of control) admiring the pie before her first piece (yes, she had more than one piece).

We're Kidding...

Dear Sisters,
I thought I would share part of my day with you.  It was a great day and was even productive to some extent; that's not always the case in my life.  My days seem to be full of interruptions and today was not an exception, except for the fact that the interruption came after things on the "to do" list were completed!  After dropping off a child at piano, I got a phone call.  The voice on the other line said, "we're having babies!"  I immediately recognized the voice of my third child and knew immediately he was referring to the goats.

I had not expected to be kidding today, in fact after feeding the goats this morning I thought Belle did look like she was getting closer, but reasoned that I always thought that for at least two weeks before the big day.  So I figured she had about two weeks left, and I was dead wrong!  We weren't sure when she was bread because it was an accidental breeding.  The buck wasn't supposed to be able to breed until he was 6 months old...well, he was only 3 1/2 months, obviously more mature than some of his age.

I quickly changed plans and returned home, by the time I got there, we had two doe kids and some very excited children.  One kid is black and the other brown.  They are absolutely darling.  Any ideas on names? We've used a Disney princess theme in the past, but are running out of them.
                     I hope you had a good day as well. 
                                         Amy

Help! I've Been Taken Hostage by a 2-Year-Old Terrorist

For the past several months, our family has been tormented by a miniature menace. He is a mastermind of terror, employing a myriad of methods to bully us and rob us of any sense of tranquility. As a public service, I will list some of the tactics of this sort of domestic guerilla warfare so that you may possibly thwart any tiny terrorists in your neighborhoods.

1)Sleep Deprivation. Our captor regularly wakes up during the night screaming for no reason. I have found the only way to combat this especially cruel tactic is to employ a little terror of my own by threatening to take the thug's blanket or "Deedee" away from him if he doesn't stop screaming. Turnabout is fair play, especially in war. The mastermind will also come into the room where I am nursing the babies and refuse to go back to bed until he is carried there. I am becoming much more adept at multi-tasking, but I have not yet learned how to nurse two babies while carrying a terrorist to bed. Maybe in time. On easier nights he just lays there quietly watching me. On less enjoyable nights he sits there and screams, forcing his victim to decide between a screaming 2-year-old or 2 screaming babies. To establish a feeling of total isolation for his victim, he gives the father a narcotic earlier in the evening ensuring the father's complete obliviousness.

2)Incomprehensible Demands. When employing this method, the terrorist will make it perfectly clear that he has demands but will make it perfectly impossible to decipher what those demands are. He will scream and yell total gibberish, such as nnnngah! nnnngah! until you give in to total despair, or, by nothing short of divine inspiration, you realize this means "warmed up" and that he wants his milk warmed up in the microwave. In the process of warming up his milk you will have to decode each demand as he insists on opening the microwave door, pushing the button to start the microwave (although he will insist the cancel button be used), opening the door, shutting the door, and then screwing the lid back on. You better pray no milk gets spilled in this process, because if it does, your captor may begin screaming and crying as though you've cut his arm off. You will want to cut your own ears off by the time he stops.

3)Constant Inconstancy. This method is often used in tandem with the one previously discussed. As you are trying to decipher the terrorists demands, you will guess what you think he is saying. For example, you may say, "Do you want me to put the candy cane blanket on you?" He will scream, "No!" So you will ask if he wants his SpiderMan doll, a drink, a kiss, a song, to sleep in the crib, to sleep in his bed, the night light on, the night light off, a piggy back ride, a story, the stuffed dog, the stuffed frog, the stuffed bear, the stuffed snake, and many many many more things. Finally just when you are about to collapse, you will ask again if he wants the candy cane blanket, and he will say yes.

3)False Security. Perhaps the most insidious of his ploys is the terrorist's ability to make you adore him more than you could possibly have imagined before you had children. You will love his hugs and kisses, the way he laughs and sings and dances and tells you that he loves you. And just when you are basking in the glow of your love for him, he will smack you right in the face with a toy sword.

He is a genius.

Valentines...a family event in our home!

Happy Valentine's Day.  I thought I'd share one of my favorite family traditions.  Years ago, when we only had one child, I was planning a candlelight dinner on Valentine's Day.  I got our 2 1/2 year old to bed early and started making a romantic dinner.  My husband was gone, so it was perfect...it would be a fun surprise when he arrived home.  On a student budget, I had planned and saved so we could have steak and shrimp.  The meal would be finished off with my husband's favorite dessert, hot fudge pudding cake!  Dinner was about ready when Tom got home. Little footsteps could then be heard coming into the kitchen.  My sweet little boy had awakened and wanted to see his daddy.  We pulled up his high chair and he was so excited to join us for our romantic candlelight Valentine dinner.  He then kept asking when we could have shrimp again.  Needless to say, Valentines is not a romantic dinner at our home, it is now a family event.  It has been about 15 years and every February 14, we have a steak and shrimp family dinner. I try to make it special by using our good china and goblets as well as decorating the table.   Every one of our children look forward to our FAMILY Valentine's dinner.   What is one of your favorite Valentine's traditions?  I'd love new ideas.
Amy

The Best Pizza EVER!

To the fun women in my life,

In little ol' Sheboygan, Wisconsin, mere blocks from Lake Michigan, there sits a lovely pizza place called Il Ritrovo. They serve authentic Italian pizza that is TO DIE FOR. And we are going there when everyone comes to visit this fall. But I digress...

Rit and I went there last year sometime and had an amazing pizza full of flavor and topped with delicious fresh ingredients. This is my attempt to re-create that pizza. Although it isn't quite the same, this recipe has become one of our favorite stand-by dinners.

Ingredients:
Your favorite thin-crust pizza dough (I typically use the basic boule recipe from "Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day," which I always have made up in the fridge; however, I have also been known to use a pre-made thin-crust dough from the store.)

One ball of fresh mozzarella cheese (or make your own...it's not hard...) NOT SHREDDED...Get the good stuff, Mom!

Yummy tomatoes...one medium or two small

fresh greens...arugula is best, but a mix of baby spinach and arugula is good too...NOT LETTUCE

Fresh grated Parmesan cheese

Olive oil

Italian Seasoning or basil, oregano, thyme, etc.

Garlic powder

Balsamic Vinaigrette

Preheat your oven according to the directions for your dough. Roll out your crust, nice and thin. Using a pastry or basting brush (I love my silicone one!), lightly brush your entire crust with olive oil. Then sprinkle it with garlic powder and your seasonings (Italian or a mixture of basil, oregano and thyme). Top with Parmesan cheese. Bake according to the directions for your dough (It's usually somewhere between 8 and 15 minutes). You want the crust to be golden brown with done.

While the crust is baking, wash your greens and chop them into bite-size pieces. Lightly toss with a little balsamic vinaigrette. Go very easy on the dressing. You want just a hint of flavor. Chop your tomatoes and mozzarella cheese into medium-size chunks. Salt and pepper your tomatoes to taste.

As soon as your crust comes out of the oven, top with the mozzarella chunks, followed by the greens and topped with the tomatoes to hold it all in place. PILE ON THE TOPPINGS...that's the best way to eat it. You shouldn't even be able to see your crust. And yep, no sauce.


That's it! Slice and enjoy. It really is a relatively healthy take on a greasy favorite. Even the boys love it. I'm sorry I don't have a photo to share. I thought about it a couple of nights ago when we had this for dinner, but alas, the pizza was gone before I could get my camera. I'll add photos the next time we have it...which I'm sure won't be too long. Enjoy!

p.s. Photos of the sunroom coming later this week after I FINALLY get the corner shelves painted and put back. :)

Pressure Cooker

I love our pressure cooker. I have mainly used it for beans and brown rice, but while my mom was here after the twins were born, she used it to cook some meat I'd had in the freezer for a while. She made some green chili pork burritos to put in the freezer, and they were mucho delicioso. I tried it out on my own a couple nights ago to make shredded pork salads, and it was a huge hit with the hubby. It was a huge hit with me because it was both quick and delicious.

I put a 1-2 lb. pork loin roast (a very lean cut) in the pressure cooker with an onion I diced and maybe a cup of water with some chicken bouillon. I set the timer for about 35 minutes. When the timer beeped, I was nursing the babes, so I had Dave just turn off the heat. The cooker lost pressure on its own while I finished up. When I opened the cooker,the onions were pretty dark on the bottom, and I was afraid they'd burned, but it turned out they were just deliciously caramelized. I shredded the pork rather easily and added a can of salsa verde. That's it. The salsa verde is super low-cal with no added sugar and a reasonable amount of sodium. I'll be trying a larger roast tonight, so I'll cook it for longer and maybe add more than just one can of salsa verde. The longer you cook the meat in the pressure cooker, I think the more tender it is, so I'm learning to be generous with the timer. We had this on lettuce with avocado and tomato. Super simple and super delicious.

As I was considering our pressure cooker and what else I could try with it, I thought about how some days I feel like my life is a pressure cooker. To be honest, there are moments every day when I feel like I'm in a pressure cooker. When both babies are crying, Sam is screaming unintelligibly in 2-year-old English about something he wants, Jeff is yelling that Ethan keeps making the sound that he told him not to make, and Ethan is trying to tell me a joke to which he expects a charmed and hysterical response, I feel a bit of pressure...a lot of pressure. It's uncomfortable. It's hard. It seems like too much. But in my life I think it's also true that with the pressure, I become more tender. Having twins as babies 4 and 5, forced me to limit some of my commitments, to focus more completely on being a mother, wife, and homemaker. What a tremendous blessing it has been! When I was first married, I thought I only wanted three, maybe four, kids. But now that I have five, I see that with each child, I have become more and more my best self. I am a mother. This is who I was always meant to be. And if I learn to perform well under pressure, as time passes, I will become more and more delicious.

Long Time, No Post

Yes, I'm a slacker...kind of. Last year was a WHIRLWIND. Our adoptions for the boys finally went through after months and months of court appearances. The sheer volume of paperwork involved was overwhelming to say the least. Then we fell in love with a house...quite unexpectedly. Then we went to Utah for a month. Then we closed on our new house. Then we worked nonstop on the new house. Then we moved. Then we had birthdays, followed by Thanksgiving and Christmas. And now you are all up to speed. Crazy, right?

We have been looking for a new house since we've been together, um, about 8 years. Seriously. EIGHT. YEARS. PEOPLE. That is a super long time to go house hunting. We looked at literally hundreds of houses and we were beginning to think we would never find our dream house. We are the kind of people who want our abode to reflect who we are and our lifestyle. We want it to have a certain look and feel, not just fit our budget.

Our house had tiny rooms and TONS of charm...a brick bungalow with a paradise of a backyard and separate art studio in the back. We loved that house. But with the addition of the boys, we officially outgrew it and our desire to find a new house became a NEED to find a new house.

Seriously, is that not THE CUTEST house ever? It is.

We wanted something bigger than the 1,400 sf house we were looking to leave. Bigger, but not too big, just comfortable. I wanted spacious rooms and lots of storage. We wanted a two-car garage and a big backyard. Rit really wanted to live on the water, but we both knew that this was a long shot.

I saw the house in the paper one Sunday. And even though the house was in a neighboring town that Rit DID NOT want to live in, I convinced her to attend the open house with me. She did not want to go. We walked through the front door and that was that. We fell in love with the house and made an offer shortly thereafter. And did I mention that it's on the river? Yep. ON. THE. RIVER. Hello, canoe, our old friend, get used to getting used.

I'm so in love with this house I can hardly stand it. Just to give you a little teaser, here is a picture of the house before we bought it.

Stunning, right? Full of potential, right? Rit and I wanted a project house and that's exactly what we got. This house is 2,400 sf of great bones and several years of neglect. The couple who lived here before us lived in the house 40+ years. They also loved this house and that is evident throughout. However, as their health declined, so did their ability to keep up with the maintenance required. They passed away and the house sat empty for a couple of years. Enter us. The DIYers. I admit, not very humbly, that I rock at plaster repair and texturizing walls. Rit is great with most everything else.

So the day we closed on the house, we came over and started ripping out the carpet to reveal the startling beautiful hardwood floors. YUM.

Welcome to our home. I hope you'll join me as we work our way through the house room by room fixing and updating what we can as we can afford it. Next post: The Sunroom.

I've Been Absent

Dear Amy (and our blog readers),

Although I have been gone from our blog for far too long, you have not been forgotten. We had a very busy May--paperwork, crazy legalities, Memorial Day, the boys' adoption, adoption party, offers on houses, preparing the move. It was insane!

Well, the adoption was finalized, the home sale fell through, we're not moving, and we still have tons of paperwork to finish. Not to mention the many house projects we procrastinated on because we thought we were moving. We did spend time over the holiday weekend cleaning up our yard and planting a garden. Check that off the list.

It's just been a busy month and unfortunately, that left little to no time to sit and write. Between raising two toddlers and keeping up with life, I'm kept hopping from before dawn until midnight. Yawn. Just thinking about it wears me out! :)

So I may not post several times a week, but I will post. Don't give up on me. The good news is that I have my priorities straight...my family comes first.

Love, Kate

Kidding

Kate,
It's been such a busy time. School ends next week and then we are on to summer! I love this time of year. We had company until last Saturday and had a great time. I do really enjoy having my in-laws come and visit. The kids think it's a special treat as well.

Today was going to be a catch up day, but instead I had a sick child and two pairs of glasses that got broken over the weekend and needed fixing. Then, this afternoon, our goat decided to kid. We had two very cute kids. A little doe and a buckling. I'm not sure I am cut out for this kidding stuff! I always get so nervous and worry about how the doe will do...can you believe it? I guess being a nurse fits my personality and carries over into the animal realm. I do have to say it is a very neat experience to see a birth take place, be it a person or a goat. Here are some not so good photos of our very cute kids. Now it's time to gear up for cheese making. I'm hoping to perfect goat cheese this summer! We can't wait for you to come and play this summer!




I hope it's a great day! It's a big one for you!
Love,
Amy

Leftover Oatmeal Muffins

Kate,
Sorry to hear about the terrible fate of chippy. Keep those five gallon buckets covered! ;) It was such a nice weekend, busy but good. We had a great time at our girl mother's day luncheon, but wish you would have been there. It has been so nice to have my in-laws visiting. I really enjoy having them here.

Yesterday I made this recipe and I wanted to share it with you. I frequently have leftover hot cereal and will frequently give it to Ginger to eat... in know you are rolling your eyes as you think that I shouldn't be feeding that to a dog. Instead of giving it to Ginger, now I have a recipe that uses cooked oatmeal and it was even good. I don't have a photo because these muffins were eaten to quickly. Everyone really liked them. You'll have to try it sometime and let me know what you think!

Leftover Oatmeal Muffins
1 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
1/2 cup sucanat
4 tsp. baking powder
1/2 cup milk
1 egg, well beaten
1 Tblsp butter and 1 Tblsp coconut oil (or just use 2 Tblsp. butter) melted
1 to 1 1/2 cups cooked oatmeal
1/2 tsp. cinnamon

Combine dry ingredients and then add egg, milk, and butter. Stir until well blended. Spoon into lined or greased muffin cups. Bake for 18-20 minutes at 400 degrees.
Next time I think I would add chopped apple or raisins as well. They were quite good.

I hope it's a good day. We're still trying to figure out if it's winter or spring here. We got some new snow on the Mountains and a lot of cold rain here in the valley. I am looking forward to a warm weekend.

Love,
Amy

The Tragic Weekend

Dear Amy,
Happy Mother’s Day yesterday! I hope your day was filled with fun with Pat and Tom and lots of special gifts and favors from the kiddies. Oh, and good food. I know what you were planning for dinner…and YUM! We had a very relaxing day and even enjoyed some sunshine…a marked difference from the rest of the week. It was nice to get a break from the rain and wind.

With leads me to a story…a tragic heart-wrenching story. Brace yourself. A couple of months ago, we noticed a small hole in the ground next to my studio. I was confident that we had a renegade gopher on our hands…a destructive, little rodent hell-bent on wreaking havoc…possibly the very same furry mammal that moved on from our neighbor’s yard just last year.

So, we watched and waited, trying to catch sight of the occupant of said hole. I even lightly covered the hole to make sure that there was something actually residing there. Yep, the hole was uncovered and groomed by the next morning. Huh. Still we watched and waited…watched and waited…waited and watched. Nothing. Then my mind started to race with the possibilities of what might be living in the hole…other unsavory rodents…and right beneath my studio! Eek!

Then I saw him. I was glancing out the back door one evening when I saw the cutest little body working its way around the periphery of the grass. I cracked open the door and off he shot toward the hole. I’d finally met my downstairs neighbor…a chipmunk. He wasn’t wreaking any havoc at all. In fact, he was helping me clean up after the birds under the bird feeder. I became quite fond of Chippy. Otto would chase him occasionally, but of course it was all in good fun and they both enjoyed it. Of course.

A few days ago, I put up an old ladder to use as a trellis for my monster clematis that is overtaking the side of my studio. In doing so, I accidentally brushed some dirt over Chippy’s hole. No big deal, I thought. Chippy will clear it out by morning. But he didn’t. And it wasn’t cleared the next day. And yesterday I started to panic a little. I was gearing up to clear out the opening to Chippy’s abode myself, when Rit delivered some tragic news. She had found Chippy…belly up in a 5-gallon bucket filled with rain water from the storms.
My heart sunk. Poor Chippy! What a horrible way to die! I had left the bucket right side up on the other side of my studio. I know better. I think this was the bucket I was stood on to see over the fence to make sure our neighbor kids weren’t starting our cedar fence on fire AGAIN. I’m racked with guilt. And poor Chippy is gone…cut down in the prime of his life…or so it seemed as if he was at his prime. Sigh. Sad. So sad.

Many, many animals have met an unfortunate demise in our yard. I understand the whole circle of life thing, but this is too much! As an animal lover, it pains me to bear witness to it EACH AND EVERY TIME! The dogs have killed bunnies in our yard (read about one such instance here), occasionally a hawk makes a quick meal of the birds at our feeders, birds have fallen from nests and baby bunnies have jumped to their deaths (read about the Georges here and here).

And now, to make matters quite possibly worse, we have a robin’s nest on our front porch. It’s built directly on top of our porch light to be specific. It has four eggs and we are keeping a close eye on things. And by we I mean all of us, including the boys. DeAngelo is obsessed with seeing the nest every time we leave the house. But I can’t help but feel that our yard is like one big death trap for small, innocent animals. I don’t want to expect the worst, but I’m struggling to hope for the best. Please, please, please, little robins, LIVE AND FLY AWAY!

So, yep. That’s our house. We seem to be magnets for animal misfortune and parquet flooring. I try to make an happy, healthy abode for our animal friends, and yet disaster always seems to strike. We hate our parquet flooring and yet we cannot escape it. The awesome house we have an offer on? Yep, you guessed it! PARQUET FLOORING…and lots of trees…a haven for wildlife…that can’t be good.

Love, Kate