Tricky statements as a treat

Happy Halloween! I'm so pumped for Madeline's costume tonight. Janna made it for her ('cause Mama don't sew) and it is a-dor-able. I won't tell you what it is but I will say I'm still finding black sequins all over the house. Any guesses?

To celebrate today, I'm going to give you a puzzle. Below are four true statements and four false statements. You tell me which is which. Have fun!

(And if you know for absolutely certainty, please answer but don't spoil it for the others by including details in your answer. Otherwise, feel free to justify your answers. I'm eager to hear why you think some might be true.)

1. When I was young, I once thought I had an incredible gift because I could see air and everyone else believed it was invisible. After several days, I finally had to share this insight with someone. I told my dad who asked me to describe what I was seeing. After I finished, he told me I was just seeing dust. I was pretty disappointed.
2. Though I speed like a maniac, I have never been pulled over by a cop. I'm not really expecting this record to last. Luck does run out at some point.
   
3. I went through a phase in college when I was certain I didn't want to have children ever. I also thought I would move to New York City, spend countless hours in crisp white shirts and shiny high heels and hail taxi cabs. Clearly, it was a phase that didn't last since I'm a 25-year-old living in Indiana and fleece pants while taking care of an 18-month-old.
   
4. I'm a closet Judge Judy fan but only on the radio. I love to run errands at 4 p.m. because our local T.V. station broadcasts on the radio. I always imagine the people having big hair and big waistlines. I'm pretty certain I'm dead-on but I never watch it on TV to find out.
5. Forget dignity: I am addicted to The Bachelor and The Bachelorette. Trista and Ryan - you captured my heart and I've never looked back. Let the mocking commence.
   
6. I am a dish fanatic. If we had money to burn, I would probably own 37 sets of dishes, including a Christmas china set, Fiestaware, bright white square plates and every setting at Crate and Barrel. Probably even the plastic summer sets at Target. This might be why God hasn't given us millions.
7. I wanted to be a veterinarian when I grew up. But one day, I was out in our backyard, scattering seeds for the birds (picture the scene in Cinderella minus singing mice). Out of nowhere, a squirrel came running at me and jumped on my leg. I kicked and screamed and finally threw him off. It changed my life. Clearly. Have you heard about Matilda? Have you heard that I hate every rodent of every size from mice to beavers? And did you notice I'm not a vet?
   
8. For the first time in my life, I want to go out my front door and go for a run. So I did. On Wednesday. Without planning to. Pushing a ginormous stroller, I just started running. Then yesterday, Joe and I ran together. This desire has never happened before. Never.
   

Slap me silly and call me Susie Homemaker

The apple extravaganza took place yesterday.

To be honest, I was kinda nervous because I had never made applesauce or apple butter before. In my mind, I pictured it as an arduous process which would require numerous hours and grueling labor. I also pictured myself in a bonnet, hunched over a contraption similar to a butter churner. (In my defense, we recently watched The Last of the Mohicans, although I'm pretty certain Cora never makes applesauce.)

I asked for Alaina's recipes because she spent 14 hours last week canning four bushels of applesauce and apple butter. And if the end result is worth that labor of love, then I wanted to taste it.

I was prepared for the most complex recipe. I was ready to run to the grocery store to buy ingredients and tools I had never heard of before.

Instead, she said to put a little concentrated apple juice in the bottom of a big pot, pile the apples on top and cook them.

Seriously? That's it?

It seemed Katie-proof. And so I began.

After making Janna's apple crisp (which is AMAZING!) and eating apples for lunch, we only had 1/2 a bushel left. But it still made plenty.

An awkward shot of my super cute apron from Anthropologie. Before you mock my lack of photography skills, you try taking a self-portrait of your torso. Not easy and highly unflattering. Side note: I think it's emotionally impossible for me to walk into that store and not want to buy everything.

I filled this bowl four times to use all my apples. I have newfound respect for Alaina and her four bushels.

I used my apple slicer to core and cut the apples and then skinned them while watching Camelot. I have a strange nostalgia for that movie because I listened to my mom's cassette tape of the soundtrack a million times growing up. Amazingly, I still remember most of the lyrics. Yes, I am that cool.

I used two pots because I questioned whether or not the apples could cook piled on top of each other. FYI - this was totally unnecessary.

Side note: other than the apple drippings, what do you see when you look at my double-spoon rest? Because every guy who walks into my kitchen asks why I have a butt on my stove. I still don't see it.

Apparently, there's this thing called "steam," which can be created while cooking. In other words, close-ups might not work over a cooking pot.

Much better. I'm still amazed really good applesauce is created by literally cooking down the apples. Who knew.

Once Madeline was up from her nap, she helped me out. I love this age because she can follow simple directions and actually help me. For the record, she's a great stir-er and food processor turn-er on-er.

The finished result! If you're wondering 1/2 a bushel made 16 cups of applesauce and we used four cups for the apple butter.

The big moment: the taster who delivers the verdict. Don't worry, I cleanse her palette before she was allowed to taste.

It's a hit! In fact, it was so good, Madeline asked for another bowl and scrape the remains with her fingernails.

So we now have fresh, homemade applesauce in the fridge. two frozen quantities in the freezer and really, really, really yummy apple butter.

Totally worth the effort and no butter-churning contraption involved.

Can I have Westminster Abbey?

After Madeline was born, I didn't like being asked, "What do you do?." Even though staying at home was always enough for me, I wondered what people thought and if they admired my choice or thought I was lazy.

Some people didn't leave me wondering what they thought; they just told me outright.

"But what do you do all day? Doesn't she take naps?"

To which I always responded, "I eat Butterfingers and watch soaps. Passions is my favorite."

For the first few months, I was compelled to announce that I used to actively contribute to society.

"I used to do non-profit public relations but now I just stay at home with my daughter."

But then I grew up.

I fully grasped the value of staying home and knew it was the desire of my heart. Now, I simply don't care what people think and have since removed the justification, the "but", and the "just."

I also add in "get to" because I want you to know that I chose my work and I see it as a privilege.

"I get to stay at home with my daughter."

Or, if I'm feeling spunky, I just say, "I'm a trophy wife," and stare them down.

(Try it. It's pretty fun, especially if they don't know you well enough to know you are sarcastic 83 percent of the time. The last guy I tried this on said, "Oh" and sputtered for words to follow up with.)

But even though I no longer justify myself to others, I still have days when I wonder if my work is really all that important. I don't believe children who have nannies or go to day care automatically grow up to be punks, jerks or Patriots players. So is what I'm doing really all that important?

When I'm going through the valleys and questioning myself, it's good to get real, solid reminders. Not shallow ones that make me feel like I'm lying to myself so I can keep staying home. Instead, reminders that speak truth, "Yes, my work is valued, important and worth my everything."

Last week, Kristen at No Small Thing was my reminder. She wrote a beautiful post on the legacy we can leave as mothers: that our children can know that they are loved. I'm printing it out for my Mom Binder so I can go back and read it. (Yes, I really do have a big ol' Mom Binder. But that's another post.)

And she linked to another kick-in-the-pants reminder from Lisa at Take 90 West who wrote my favorite blog post ever, Building My Own Cathedral. I'm printing out and keeping on my fridge. It's that good.

If you're a mom, go read it and be encouraged. Then go back to doling out Cheerios and mopping the floors. Go back and keep building your cathedral.

Yup, it is worth it. And Madeline is my Westminster Abbey.

Just another reminder that I'm a full-fledged mom

I'm a sucker for sentimental activities. They just scream, "Sweet family time!!!" to me. All month long, we've been wanting to go to an apple orchard but it never seemed to be the right time. Finally, yesterday was the day. And it was the perfect time to go.

Gorgeous weather. No crowds. And we got lots of fruit for c-h-e-a-p.

First stop, the raspberry bushes which I didn't even know would be there. At first, Madeline didn't want to eat them. Which, of course, we fully supported and encouraged her not snacking before paying.

But then she liked them. A lot. And she probably ate her weight in those little red berries. I can't blame her. I ate one too (just to make sure we weren't going to pay for junk, of course) and in all seriousness yelled out to Joe, "These are the freshest-tasting berries I've ever had!"

I am a walking brainiac.

Anyways, we collected 1.5 pounds of berries. We paid $2.90. Can I repeat that? Two dollars and ninety cents for A POUND AND A HALF OF RASPBERRIES. A tiny, tiny carton at the grocery store is $4.99. Get thee to a raspberry patch.

I remember picking strawberries and blueberries with my family when I was little. I remember it as hot, sticky and boring.

But picking these raspberries yesterday was so much fun. I loved watching Madeline toddle up and down the tiny hills, searching for splashes of red so she could pluck the berries with her chubby fingers. It was one of those moments when I just had to breathe deep and focus. "This is going to be a memory to cherish. Take it in."

I also had waaaaay too much fun thinking of all the ways I want to use those raspberries.

To sum up the raspberry picking adventures, it probably means when Madeline is 11 or 12, she will be complaining of raspberry-picking torture. C'est la vie.

Then we headed to the apple trees for some pictures but not for picking apples. It was too late in the season and everything had already been picked. But we did pick up a bushel of apples for $7 at the front. I have to admit: I felt rather biblical buying a bushel.

And we got some cider. Which was the freshest-tasting cider I've ever had. It was like drinking liquid apples. I wish we bought 27 gallons.


And of course, Madeline picked out a pumpkin. She was happy to find one she could carry.

We are definitely going next year. Now I just need to figure out how to make applesauce and apple butter with a bushel of apples. A catastrophic post may follow.

I love coming home to a full Google Reader

It's a good day in blogland.

Plus, your While You Were Sleeping quotes are cracking me up. Ahhhh, perfect for a rainy day.

"She was....leaning."

I can't name the two bones in my forearm. (But I think one might be ulna.)

I can't tell you how many feet are in a mile.

I've never been able to remember the different types of clouds.

I can't recite anything after "Four score and..." in the Gettysburg Address, even though I've had to memorize it twice in my life.

I don't remember anything from any of my math classes. Ever.

But this week, we watched While You Were Sleeping for the first time in years. And for some reason, my brain has chosen to remember EVERY SINGLE LINE.

I'm confident that someday, somewhere, this once-useless information will be vitally important. Until then, I'll be waiting.

"John Wayne was tall."
"Dustin Hoffman is 5'6"."
"Would you want to see Dustin Hoffman save the Alamo?"
"These potatoes are so creamy."
"Spain has good beef."
"Mary mashed 'em."

Because, ya know, I enjoy lying to myself repeatedly

I have a longstanding, currently unreached goal: to sort, wash, fold and put away all of our laundry in one day.

It doesn't sound hard. It seems attainable. It appears simple.

Which is why I always think I can do it. I even look forward to laundry day because I tell myself it will be a glorious break from the rest of the week. This is the part where I lie to myself over and over again.

I think I'll watch a movie while I sort and fold. I tell myself not to do anything else but just focus on laundry and get it all done.

But laundry day dawns and somehow I can't focus on just one thing. Get this: there's a toddler in the house who demands my attention and *gasp* has needs.

And even though I tell myself to always has the dryer running, I can't bring myself to turn it on after Madeline's been napping only 20 minutes because I know she'll wake up and who am I to deprive her some precious sleep?!

And then I forget to switch loads. Until, like, the next morning.

Also, a teensy, tiny part of this problem might be my basement phobia. Just maybe.

Today is day three of laundry "day." I'm still not done.

And ten bucks says come next week, I'll have the same fantasy of reaching my impossible goal all over again.

Innateness

It must be innate for a little girl to:

• dislike crusts on PBJs, grilled cheese, toast, etc.
• utilize stalling tactics when it's time to leave the library or Children's Museum ("Really, Madeline? You're actually going to clean up without being asked because you're just pure of heart? Riiiight.")
  
• know how to deceive (e.g. flopping loudly on her mattress and tightly squeezing her eyes to pretend she is asleep seconds after she was carrying a rather loud conversation with Bunny in the crib)
• know not to touch a pottery bell
  
• desperately want to play with a pottery bell
• wait until her mommy has her back turned before she picks up a pottery bell
• know how to carry a purse
  
• work a room so she can end up with a cookie
  
• want whatever is on mommy's plate even if her plate has the exact. same. things.
• to care for anything, including a stuffed dog
  

When there's too much to do, I find it best to laugh at bad cakes

We had a long weekend. It began with a vacation day for Joe, out-of-state siblings, hanging out, a wedding, hanging out again, more front-row viewings of the Neti Pot in action than I thought humanly possible (courtesy of poor, congested Joe) and ended with a sick day for Joe.

Yesterday, we literally did nothing while Joe recovered. Well, that's not entirely true. We managed to watch all four hours of Lawrence of Arabia. And I think that's quite an accomplishment.

So today, I'm finally home alone with Madeline. And an unbelievably wrecked house. Dishes are sprawling. Clothes are strewn. Discarded Neti Pot packages are littered across the bathroom.

I have about seven half-written blog posts in my head with no ambition to start writing them.

So you're getting a link. A very, very hilarious link that I hope you'll like.

Cake Wrecks.

Thanks to Molly, I've been laughing at these cakes for an entire week. And yesterday was a butterfly wreck-off. Oh, the humanity.

Boggle = Love

I'm a bit of a word nerd. I always feel dorky when prompted to list my hobbies.

"Reading, writing and crossword puzzles."

Yeah, I look hot on paper.

Anyways, this also means my favorite game is Boggle. Seriously love playing Boggle.

So when Joe came home from work last night and asked if I wanted to play Boggle, it was about the equivalent of coming home with roses and dinner from Yats. In my book, asking to play Boggle is the sixth love language.

And it got me thinking about how marriage is full of enjoying things you didn't like before, just because you love someone who loves doing those things. For me, I now enjoy Death Cab for Cutie and PBS documentaries. For Joe, he asks to play Boggle and eats black bean pie.

Life changes when you say "I do" because you're really saying, "I promise to walk with you through this life and we will become different people because of each other."

Which is why I love engagements and weddings. It's amazing to watch others change and grow as they melt their lives together.

That being said, congratulations to Jason and Courtney on your engagement. I'm thrilled and blessed to be your sister and we're all so excited to watch you begin your life together.

Since I last posted...

Quite a bit has happened in the last week.

If I had to nail down the most significant event, it might be the Club Scion shotgun-seat karaoke introduction by Anonymous to Sir Mix-A-Lot's sleeper hit, "Buttermilk Biscuits." This masterpiece contains intellectual poetic depth such as:

"Now buttermilk biscuits, here we go
sift the flour, roll the dough...
...You eat 'em in the morn', you eat 'em at night
Kentucky Fried Chicken makes the suckers just right"

My life was touched. But if buttermilk biscuits is slang for something obscene and you're offended right now, I apologize. My private Christian school education was terrific but didn't cover all the bases.

In all sincerity, Anonymous also introduced me to Abbi Walker. I've become addicted to blaring her during the day and Madeline approves.

Moving on.

The real highlight of my week was this:

Yup, my first game in the new stadium and WE WON! It was an amazing game to attend with my friend Elaine. I brought my camera to take tons of pictures, discovered it didn't have batteries, resorted to taking one picture with my phone, came home and then discovered they were in the bag the entire time. Go figure.

Fall has officially arrived in our home after making and consuming pumpkin bread, pumpkin pancakes and thebesteverautumncandyandnutmixture (it's official title). And butternut squash soup is coming up this week.

Apparently, I only accept a new season once I've sampled the menu it has to offer.

My brother's birthday was last week so I wanted Madeline to make him a card and take pictures of the card-making to send to him. While I miss my baby, I love toddler activities like this.

beautifying the card

beautiful smile (I think it's actually getting better)

I think I'll title the following series, "Proof that it really is too much to ask a child to hold a sign and smile at the same time."

My thrilling life: a new door

We live in an older home with many old features. Some are charming; others aren't.

Until this week, one of the not-so-charming features was our side door. If you have ever had to deal with an old wooden door that swells and shrinks depending on the temperature, you can appreciate the following gymnastics we performed every time we wanted to go to our backyard or take the trash out.

It had a deadbolt with key entry on both sides so using both hands, we had to throw our body weight up against the door to position the deadbolt in just the right position to loosen the key and pop the lock out. It took quite a bit of finagling but trust me, we became quite skilled in the art of opening this door.

Anyways, my dad found a new door for us and I was thrilled to be done with our old one. So this week, he called to see if he could come by to put it in. I thought he would just pop the old one off the hinges and hang the new one on.

Uh. Nope.

After about five minutes to severe banging and screeching that sent Madeline running to my legs, I saw this:

Apparently, this new door called for a new door jamb which then also required ripping off, um, everything.

Then Dad noticed that our floor was tilted considerably so he decided to JACK UP THE HOUSE! I didn't even know this could be done.

I was so glad I decided to quickly mop the floor before he came over. I thought he might have to kneel once or twice and I didn't want to dirty his knee.

After she got used to the banging, Madeline wanted to help so badly. Needless to say, I held her back.

But it's in! And I can't begin to share with you my excitement of.... turning the lock with ONE HAND and opening the door with ONE HAND. Ah, bliss.

I love living 10 minutes from my parents. Thanks, Dad!

A few benefits of children

A child brings so many things into your life. Like love, joy, laughter. I knew these would be coming even if I didn't understand the extent of their wonderful-ness.

However, I've also learned that a child brings other things too. Tangible items. Some are not so great, like the ginormous exersaucer that I have banged my leg against more times than I can count. Or the musical "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" book that sings when it is opened and scares me to death every time.

But some things are truly wonderful items that I had forgotten about. They are so great, in fact, they should fall onto the pros/cons list, "Why Have Children." (Oh, I jest.)

1. Wet wipes. These are awesome. If you have a child in diapers, you will always have them with you. (Or at least you hope you do.) They clean up nearly every mess and have been especially helpful for me, someone who constantly drips and drops food all over myself in public.
2. Raisins. I forgot how much I love raisins. Especially on salads. I am not really a salad girl but give me lettuce, raisins and ranch and I'll devour the bowl.
3. Cheerios. I also forgot how much I love a bowl of Cheerios. However, I've been finding them in the strangest places since Madeline ate on the move, the strangest of which was under the sheets of our bed. No clue how they got there.
4. Stains. This might be pushing the limit but as someone who constantly stains her shirts (above point #1), having children legitimizing these stains. Everyone assumes Madeline caused them. Is it necessary to point out that I actually dribbled spaghetti sauce myself? I don't think so.
   

If you were wondering, the "smile" is still the same. Oh, and apparently a headband on Madeline makes her look like the real Baby Einstein.

"And she shall have crumbs wherever she goes"

Madeline was sick last week with the big "D" (and I don't mean Dallas). She's better now but it threw us off-kilter for a bit while we stayed home, avoided little kiddos and took monstrous naps (her, not me). You know your child is definitely fighting something when she'll sleep for four hours in the afternoon and still fall right asleep at 7 p.m.

Because she had no appetite, I gave her crackers whenever she wanted one. And I mean, whenever, wherever. The rule of only eating in her high chair was catapulted out the window.

In short, our house became Texas Roadhouse. Except instead of dust from peanut shells covering every floorboard, it was saltine cracker dust.

Oh, and she ate in the car anytime she wanted too. Can you tell?


These pictures are a couple weeks old but I love how Madeline likes getting her feet dirty. And if the dirt can become mud, it's even better.