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.