Our Little Pilgrim

I wanted to have holiday photos taken, Valentines, Easter, Thanksgiving and Christmas and to carry this tradition on to all of our kids, making them special family memories. It started with Ava's first holiday photo: Valentines Day. She was a Month old, laying on her pink and white satin blankie with miniature angel wings. This was her Valentines gift for daddy. For Easter, she laid in a basket, wearing a sweet dress her Auntie made her and playing with a soft, chocolate brown (real) bunny. Emphasis on real, we have a photo of the very moment both Ava and the bunny realize each other is real and upon finding this out, Ava raises her little arms up, eyes amazingly 10 times there normal size and the bunny jumping out of the basket for his dear little life. I think that was my favorite photo in the series. This year, for Thanksgiving I wanted to dress her up as a little Pilgrim. Well, actually at first I wanted to dress her as a little turkey since she's my little turkey butt, however, finding a little gobbler costume was next to impossible. I decided then to make her a simple Pilgrim dress using, yes, a witches costume on clearance 75% off after Halloween (I paid only $1.75). Using a white sheet we had stored away, it took me only a few days of cutting, ironing and HAND SEWING. Hand sewing? why is that a big deal? My hand is next to useless, so with each stitch I reminded myself how cute and sweet Ava will look when it was finished. And boy, that was an understatement! She looked beyond cute! We go to DeeDee Ortiz to get her photos taken, DeeDee does such a wonderful job and is incredibly talented!

The Wedding Cake

On the third Wednesday every month, I have my Bunco night. I love Bunco night, it gives me a chance to get out of the house and socialize with adults. Without, I think I would be in a constant state of babbling, blowing raspberries and various degrees of vocal cord practices with Ava. In the Bunco group there is a grandma, mom and daughter, which is always fun and entertaining to witness the fun dynamic. Several weeks ago while I was in the middle of frosting an anniversary cake with my mom, I got a call from Sandy (the grandma). She told me her granddaughter was going to get married on November 1st, and had tried to plan her own wedding, as best as she could. Sandy then asked me if I would be able to make her a wedding cake, "Something small. Nice. Simple." She said. She asked for a vanilla cake with chocolate filling. I asked what the wedding colors were (cream and mauve) and if they had a cake topper or not. Before she had the chance to tell me they didn't have a topper, I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I planned to do the cake in segments over three days, starting on Friday. I am so very, very glad I gave myself a three day window. This poor cake, everything you could imagine go wrong, went wrong. My mom was over Friday and witnessed the biggest debacle in the whole world. Only four people know what happened, Aaron, Mom, Ava and Myself. I hoping no one talks.

My mom came to my rescue and took the pans home and re-baked my cakes as I was choking back a complete break down. I'm still blaming it on being pregnant. Needless to say, I don't have a lot of process pictures but I do have quite a few of the finished product.

Trick or Treat?

We had bought trick or treater candy several times over the past month, all which ended up in the same place, in our tummies, on our thighs and I think I even noticed a new little bulge on my behind. Since it was Ava's first Halloween, I had debated between doing the whole "Halloween thing" or not. We had made plans to meet our friends downtown, their daughter Ashley was going as a teddy bear. So, in September, I bought Ava a pink long sleeve onesie with a glow in the dark skeleton and for a while thought that would be the extent of it, that was until I ran out of powdered sugar.

I was asked to bake a friends wedding cake, due November 1st so when I set out to work on the frosting on Friday, I was frustrated to find I had used all my confectioners sugar so soon. I thought the Grocery Outlet would be fast and close to both my home and Dutch Brothers so I went there after I got my little 8oz. Ugh, no sugar. Kmart. Dang it! No sugar. As I was heading out I heard over the loud speaker that all costumes were 50% off. Huh, it wouldn't hurt to procrastinate going to the market a little longer. We made our way to the garden center where aisles of costumes hung. I looked, pointed various things out to Ava, then it happened. In the back corner, was the ultimate, perfect costume...






I think this last one is my favorite, Ava eating hay while her friend cried. Ava loves giraffeys, and loved talking and laughing to her new friend, her costume.

I am Romulan

I have always liked Star Trek, despite the overwhelming sexist and demeaning attitudes towards women, I dare say it's my "guilty" pleasure. But until now, I sort of minimized my interest in the show. What happened was this:

Ava went down for her morning nap, it was unusually long for her morning nap, almost three hours in length. However, this was an unexpected and delightful treat for me. I was able to nap today as well. Although my house was in need of my attention, I opted for a few hours curled up in bed. That's when it happened. I found my self in a dark, loud room reminiscent of an old Star Trek set, fog and flashing lights included. With black hair, Bettie Page bangs and A-line framing my up turned eyebrows, there was no mistaking it, I was a Romulan. Captain Kirk and Spock soon entered the room and sat down in front of me. I had important information to give them, something that would save the Federation from it's impending Klingon attack. In hushed tones I attempted to warn them, but being a Romulan, they were hesitant to listen, that was until I did a mind meld with Spock. Although Romulans and Vulcans are distantly related, Romulans aren't known to mind meld the way Vulcans are. However, I was able to initiate a mind meld with Spock, thus sharing everything I knew and he was able to see the truth and as we were being attacked, all three of us beamed up to safety.

That might be the last time I eat a snickers and cheddar potato chips before I go to sleep, or not.

I Found My Own

Advice on the birth of a second child.

http://kidshealth.org/parent/pregnancy_newborn/pregnancy/second_child.html#

Yes, I am

Pregnant. It's kind of odd, I know that every pregnancy and every child is different, but I never expected this. When we first found out I was pregnant with Ava, it was 2 am and I woke up in a sweat, I knew something was different so I took a test and the line was the boldest, brightest pink I had ever seen. Several days before I took the test I was so exhausted and drained, I felt my body was full of lead. This time, there was no early signs, no complete and utter exhaustion, I had only one day where I couldn't stop eating, unlike the week with Ava. It was Aaron who reminded me that I missed something, and the only reason I took the test was my dentist appointment the next day. Just to be "on the safe side" since I was going to have my teeth x-rayed, I wanted to make sure I wasn't going to damage a little somebody. The test was a barely there pale pink. We stared and stared. Not convinced, I took another test the next morning. It was the same almost there pink line. I didn't feel pregnant, but I didn't get my teeth x-rayed, just in case. Later that day with Ava in tow, I picked up a lab slip at my Doctors office, got a blood test and the next day I got the call that yes, in fact we are expecting. I am tired, but I have a nine month old who I'm chasing after, so being tired is part of the package. The only thing that I'm experiencing is this constant full feeling. I have no appetite, and I have to remember to eat for the baby, but after three bites, my stomach is so full it wants to burst.

Ava will be about one and a half when the baby's born, so I have a question for all you veteran moms out there: What is the one piece of advice you wish someone had given you before you gave birth to your second child?

Well...

At least I don't have to feel awkward about still wearing my maternity pants.

Just When You Thought it Was Safe to Go Back in the Playpen...

On Choosing Your Words Wisely

It was my little cousins first birthday not too long ago, it would have been Ava's first little birthday party she was invited to. I eagerly RSVP-ed as soon as her invitation was received, excitedly, Ava picked out just the right gift for her second cousin and we had her favorite giraffey party dress freshly washed and ready for his special day. My mom, who offered to bake his birthday cakes (2) was happy to let me lend a hand in getting the Big Bird cake ready, she had finished the Elmo cake and we were quickly running out of time. Since we were behind schedule, in the span of an hour, we had four separate people call us, all asking the same question, where's the cakes? Each call received the same answer: We're almost done, we will be there as soon as it's physically possible. However, when my aunt, (and I use that title very loosely), called us, my mom was changing and I was juggling to put two heavier-then-they-look cakes into boxes for transport and dealing with my overly tired daughter. I stopped what I was doing, took a deep breath and tried to express my utter frustration at the situation. I told her repeatedly that we were on our way, trying to load the car up. That is when she THOUGHT she had hung up on me. She preceded to spend the next ten-15 minutes telling people that she "can't stand her" (I am that 'her'), Laurie's eldest son, Brad, got in on the rant saying that he "never liked her" (again, that 'her' is me). And just so there were no misunderstandings, they continued to say "Crissy is so..., nobody likes Crissy!" I truly was shocked and very much hurt. Shaking and trying not to cry, I handed over the phone to my mom who in turn listened for quite sometime before hanging up in disgust. After all, this was her sister who was saying such horrible, hurtful things about her daughter. I know that this should not have come as such a surprise to me, this has always been the kind of person Laurie has been. When I found out we were pregnant, it was Laurie who went around telling our family that our daughter was probably my ex-boyfriends. There is so much wrong with that comment, I couldn't even begin to know where to start so all I will say is that there was no possible way that could've been the case. Needless to say, we didn't make it to the party.

Since this episode, I have been thinking a lot about how we talk to people and how we talk when we think the person can't hear what is said. Over my thirty years I have become a firm believer that if given a choice between having broken bones due to "sticks and stones" or words that claim to "never hurt", I would definitely choose the broken bones since they tend to heal whereas, insults and verbal cruelty stay deeply embedded into how you see yourself and seem to linger in the back of your mind, at last, that is how it is with me. This has influenced how I treat other people. My whole life I have been told I am just so easy to "pick on", to tease, to name call and verbally crush. So, in turn, how I treat people seems to be a byproduct of this treatment. Which is utterly unacceptable. I'm cold, spiteful and I know just what to say to hurt the person whom I love the most. The only difference I see between Laurie and myself, is when I open my mouth, it's to hurt others before they hurt me, and that is completely and utterly unacceptable. This is a legacy I do not want to leave for my daughter.

With my degree in Liberal Studies, I have the "book" knowledge of how to express ourselves with children, and often adults as well. Since I've had Ava, I see first hand how everything I say and how it's said can either encourage her and make her laugh or have the opposite effect. Especially since she understands 'no' and is very mobile, cruising around the front room. Even when she falls because she doesn't realize she so small, if I react in an "it's okay" manner verses "Oh Mava! My baby!" (with tears in my eyes) her response is vastly different.

What I need to do, is simply treat those around me as I would treat Ava. With love, compassion and a smile like I do when I change her stinky, poopie diapers because I don't want her to feel bad or ashamed that I'm wiping up her poopies. I know this isn't an original concept, it's first and foremost found through out scripture. When I read the Bible, I tend to read it as I was taught in Sunday School, I see it as "Bible Stories". Because of this, it is often hard for me to internalize the teachings, they have somewhat of a distance for me as do fairytales. One of the many blessings God gave me when He gave me Ava, was that through her, I can intimately learn how to talk.

He Asked Me if...

This is how I imagined my life would be like, as we sat in the ever increasing beautiful night at the same cold, stone table with the same small gray heart-shaped pebble embedded into it as we had two years earlier on our first date. On the night of our first date, I was running late due to a last minute client. Rushed and flustered I hurried to get ready, unsure how the evening would go. Sitting in the dark theatre, waiting for the movie to begin, I wondered why? After all this time are we here, together, watching a movie; a moment I waited five years for.
Every year since, Aaron and I have "re-lived" that night. This year we dropped Ava off at my mom and dads house, then we saw 'District 9', a movie I highly recommend, afterward, we went to the nearby Starbucks, got our drinks and sat in the same spot where Aaron fell more in love with me then ever.

So, my answer is no. This is not how I imagined what my life would be like...it's better.

Comfort Food

It didn't take me a whole day, at times, it just felt like it had. Ava is a very contented girl and can put up with a lot when it comes to her mommy baking, but when she gets to the point when she feels neglected, she will let me know, and very loudly. This is what happened 3/4 of the way through our adventurous afternoon. I spent the whole morning pouring over each of my many cookbooks and lingered on each worn recipe card which reviled a pasta recipe -- that is until I had each of them memorized and a decision was made. I had my heart set on preparing the pasta that was in my traditional Italian book, with the most simplest and whole ingredients of flour and eggs, but since I was using whole wheat flour, I went with a recipe that called for an addition of olive oil and a pinch of salt. I set to work, laying a clear plastic table cloth over my dining room table, and Ava settled in her play pen next to me. I gathered all ingredients and set up the pasta maker.



I was surprised to find that making my own pasta was easier and faster than making my sugar cookies. I found that having a pasta cutter and a ruler were the only tools necessary. After mixing the dough, dusting it with flour I preceded to run it through the maker. With each sheet, I measured the length I needed for my lasagna. The length and width are subjective and depends on the size and shape of the dish you will be baking in, mine measured 4 inches by 12 inches.




I had made ten lasagna noodles and two fist fulls of fettuccine noodles. I didn't have a pasta rack, so I spread the noodles out on all of my cooling racks, this work well, however, the noodles dried with a slight curve in the ends where they were too long for the racks and hung over the edges. After drying the pasta for three hours, it was time to make the lasagna. At this point, Ava needed more attention, so she helped mommy brown the 93% lean ground beef. I honestly can't remember the last time I bought the canned spaghetti sauce, I have been making my own for quite some time. Ava, of course, helped with that too. While the sauce simmered, Ava picked out a movie she wanted to watch. After a long discussion on how that movie is not appropriate for a girl her age, we boiled the pasta. It took only about three minutes to cook. We then drained it and assembled the lasagna and baked it on 350* for about 35 minutes, give or take.






With the fettuccine noodles in the freezer, we made eight nights worth of dinners, and a lunch or two in one afternoon. This was a very realistic task and I strongly urge mothers everywhere to make your own pasta, even if you do it only once it's well worth it. The pasta has such a rich texture and taste to it, which you cannot find in any store bought pastas. In attempts to eliminate an excuse as to why you can't make your own pasta, here is the recipe I used:

2 1/3 C. Flour (I used whole wheat)
1/2 tsp. Salt
2 Beaten Eggs
1/3 C. Water
1 tsp. Olive Oil

Start with the flour and salt in your mixing bowl and make a well in the center. In a smaller bowl combine eggs, water and oil. When fully combined, add to center well in flour mixture. Stir until all combined. Knead, separate dough in half or quarters and put through the machine to desired thickness, cut into desired shape. Dry minimum one hour.

Buona Fortuna!

Getting to the Root of it All...

In-between feeding a very hungry child and juggling dirty diaper and bottle, I was able to catch an interview with Jillian Michaels from the NBC show, Biggest Loser. She had struggled many years with her weight and was telling how easy little life-changes can be and how great they add up to a healthier life (and a thinner waistline). Most of what she was saying were things I was already doing. I had maintained a size 4/6 for about 6 years and it wasn't until I was pregnant with our first child that I had ballooned to a size 10. I know what your thinking: a size 10? Who is she to complain about that?! I had spent the majority of my life grossly over weight, and when I started gaining with Ava, I became scared. I don't want the "mommy" figure--you know, the figure of the fertility goddess, with the huge boobs and equally big belly, butt and thighs. There's a lot of moms out there that gained more weight than they wanted, and continue to gain with each child they had. I desperately do not want to end up like the moms I have seen. So, when I heard Jillian talk about what our bodies were made to consume. It made so much sense! If we eat what we find growing in the ground, or dangling from trees, our bodies function as they were beautifully designed to. I'm quite sure there were no Cheetos™ or Twinkies™ in the Garden of Eden.

I had already switched to buying potato chips only made from potatoes and a touch of salt (and sometimes pepper), and even though Goldfish™ wouldn't be classified as "natural", Aaron still needed something fun for his lunch, so I switched us to the whole wheat kind. I have always eaten whole wheat bread, and instead of buying cookies from the store, I make my own, eliminating all those nasty "extras" and additives with names I can never really pronounce. I know there is a lot more I need to do for my quest of common-sense eating. And no, I am not going all organic, just trying to eat things I would find in nature and not in a processing lab but, I don't think I'm going to be as extreme as Alice Waters and the "slow food movement". This is just the first in a series I'm blogging on, sort of an introduction. I'll be sharing with you the ease and difficulties as they unfold.

My next task and blog will be on making my own pasta. Whole wheat seems to be all the rage in store-bought pastas; however, they're also very limited, I have only really been able to find whole wheat spaghetti and, well, I like variety.

Ingenuity Meets Ability

I had waited until Ava was more eager to sit up before I went ahead and moved her from the car-seat in the stroller to the "big girl" seat (3 1/2-4 Months). However, I had a problem: her toys. She loves her toys, after all, they are her friends. She talks to, sings to and even yells at them on a regular basis, but most of all, she eats them. When I had her in her car seat, clicked into the reclined stroller, it was easy for her to have her friends around without me fearing them falling to the ground. So, as I strapped her into her big girl seat, in the Wal-Mart parking lot, it hit me. Ribbon, er-curling ribbon for wrapping. I quickly measured the white string, making sure that when her friends took a flying leap, their fate was not sealed. Ava loved this idea, she even purposefully tossed her friends over board so she could pull them back up with the string. Unfortunately, my very handy and very self entertaining idea looked a bit well, how should I say it? Janky. Wonky. Ghetto-like. Well, something along those lines. Despite all the positive comments and feedback by other moms, I felt extremely self-conscious. When my mother-in-law was up for a visit a couple weeks ago, she saw my idea, and my uneasiness from the presentation. When we were at Jo-Ann's, we spent time in the ribbon aisle, we found a spool of green with brown polka dots and small black snaps. She spent the better half of an evening sewing what I couldn't. Ava loves it and I love it, it's perfect! Thank you!

Before:

After:

Apology #998-1001

I have spent the last four months apologizing for everything that I have ever done, or at least it feels that way. I have apologized for the voice and tone that is perceived as offensive in my blog, I have apologized for things being continually taken out of context, after all, it is my fault that I haven't written in a way that such errors and misinterpretations were unable to penetrate. I've said I was sorry for being daft enough in assuming my relationship with my mother and my sister was something apart from any relationship I had with my former church. I have even apologized for not giving my mother and sister credit for being by my side after my daughter was born. Again, I assumed that since they were my family, it was obvious they were with me. But, of all my apologies, there is one person whom I have said I was sorry to a multitude of times, so passionately I turned a shade of blue as I used all the breath I had in me. This was to no avail. I begged, I poured out my heart and implored: What?! What else is there for me so deeply, sorrowfully to say I am sorry for? This is what I have begged of one of the few people I most loved and admired, my sister. I loved her more than she ever realized. Everything I had ever done of importance was for her and her family. My whole life, until now has revolved around a family that was not mine. Whatever money I had, it would go to them through either toys, food, activities and almost daily Mochas. I was at her every call, whatever was needed of me, I gave it freely and in all honesty, joyfully. I lived for her family, I loved them with all my heart and I never asked for or expected any thanks or recognition. I was doing what I thought family was called to do for each other. And, foolishly, I thought that when it came time for me to start my family, that my children would have the same kind of love and family support as I had spent the past decade or so giving. I had spent my whole childhood looking up to her, praying that God would help me be like her, now only to understand that she refuses me, refuses my sorrys and my sisterhood, I am now nothing but a forced "chat"--that is, if I wait around long enough to not be ignored. After four long months of this, with the occasional apologetic email and equally heated emails back and fourth, seemingly random grievances had slowly surfaced. It seemed to center around my public feelings of not fitting in to her church. I had posted in a long blog which stated my inability to form and foster relationships and friendships, I had taken the responsibility, which as it seemed was lost on the audience. Again, I passionately apologized for offending her, hurting her feelings, like she was needing. It just wasn't enough. I never could have even imagined hurting her like this. And in all honesty, I am still trying to reconcile in my mind how voicing my thoughts and feelings in all honesty could result in this "sin" and a label in which I am accused of being "narcissistic" and "manipulative." After four months, I understand clearly what is asked:

"The only thing I want you to apologize for is for what you did, for publicly airing your grievances with the church publicly on your blog."

That is the reason for this blog post: I had offended her publicly, so I ought to fully apologize publicly.

What I was extremely upset about was that, by voting in a change to the church constitution, that man-made work is now the measure by which Elders and Leaders are held to and qualified by, instead of the Bible. That is, if you are called by God and are qualified by Scripture, you still would not be allowed, because you might hold views contrary to the modified 1689 LBC, as adopted by that church. We really like the confession, I just think it's seriously dangerous to hold that as high, if not higher in certain circumstances than the Word of God. Leaving the church was not something we rushed into. We did spend a long time in prayer, God was telling us that we needed to leave that church for a very long time, we just didn't listen. My family's there! Leaving that church was, in a sense, leaving my family, at least that's how it felt, and as it turned out a reality. I thought we had made it clear that us leaving that church was Gods plan and that we joyfully accept where God is leading us. In fact, the only reason why we didn't leave that church over a year ago was that they were my family and I didn't want a schism between us. I knew that when we left, no matter if it was a year ago or a matter of months, we would be disconnected from them and the girls and that is not what I wanted. I know that where we are now is still where we would have gone even if I hadn't blogged in response to the situation. So, I am sorry. I am truly sorry for blogging. I am sorry that what I said caused such hate and bitterness. I am sorry for acknowledging shortcomings and my view on disassociating myself from such churches. I am sorry that I publicly posted,

"I belong to a church which now bans those from leadership who believe that Sundays are a day SET APART for worship, meditation on God's instruction and in guiding your family in His Truth."

I have learned that I ought to word my feelings differently, or refrain from any sort of expression. In an email, I was told that "However this doesn't mean our relationship can be restored. In order for that to take place repentance needs to happen. Apologies for hurt feelings is not the same thing as repentance, and so far you've made it clear that you have nothing to repent about even though you have been confronted with your wrong words whether you accept it or not." I actually thought I had repented for offending and hurting those who were hurt, I had taken down the offensive post as evidence of that repentance, but again, it wasn't enough. I am not posting this apology as a means to restore a crumbled and now extinct relationship. I have come to the slow realization I now no longer wish to have that relationship in my life. I have been hurt beyond recognition, but I choose to not demand any sort of acknowledgment, or for that matter, any apology. I think I could live the rest of my life without uttering the word apology again, I feel that it has now lost all meaning.

So, again, I am so sorry for stating my grievances with your church, it was wrong of me. Please forgive me.

The Oregon Trail

My in-laws were able to visit us from their home in Phelan. Aaron's dad has never had the opportunity to meet Ava in person but thanks to Skype, he's been able to see her and spend some time with us. It was so nice to be able to spend this time with mom and dad. After dad had to leave and get back home for work, mom stayed a few days longer and had planned to drive up to Reedsport, Oregon to visit Katie (Aaron's sister) and her family. This time, I was able to go as well. Since I found out that my family and I were not invited to my nieces' joint birthday party, I was more than relieved to get out of town, make that, out of state to remove myself from a painful situation. Mom, Ava and I left for Oregon on Tuesday, with the plan that Aaron would follow on Friday after work, driving moms car up since she would stay a bit longer. The originally 7 hour trip was stretched with a more than fussy Ava almost immediately upon entering Oregon. We left Chico about 12:30 in the afternoon and rolled into Reedsport close to 11pm. Thanks to Dutch Bros., I was still able to keep my eyes open long enough to set up Ava's Play Pen and inflate my air mattress. By Wednesday, Ava and I were on the phone crying to Aaron. I needed my husband and Ava needed her daddy. His boss was more than understanding and sent Aaron on his way to be with us. The trip was wonderful and God supplied us with a very reasonably-priced motel room not more then 3 minutes away from Katie and Danny's place. Since they have five kids and a three bedroom home, with mom staying with them, we thought it would be better if we got the room down the street. I was amazed we were able to get a good deal, let alone a room at all since it was Dune Fest. We had so much fun! We saw the Elk sanctuary, the Lighthouse, peeked at Dune Fest, got coffee almost everyday at Reedsport Coffee house (the closest Dutch Bros. was an hour away). We went to the beach on Friday, providentially, Danny had the day off so it was the Murrays and the Lords, five adults, six kids the oldest being 11 years and the youngest almost 7 months. On the way to the beach, we bought local raspberry flavored honey at Danny's parents little shop, on the way back, the three of us ate at the neatest restaurant and visited a few little gift shops and tasted some of the best fudge! The Oregon coast is so very beautiful! I had only previously briefly introduced myself to my new sister at our wedding, so this was our first time we were able to spend with each other and hang out like sisters. Ava loved being with her auntie and cousins, she was a little hesitant at first since she wasn't used to being around five kids who all wanted to hug on her and play with her. I think it also might have been Gracie's first time having her mommy hold a baby who wasn't herself.