For Carla

Carla passed away Wednesday night. I knew that earlier in the day she had been coughing up so much blood that the doctors had finally had to close off one of her lungs and sedate her. So when I found out the next morning that she had died, it wasn't a huge shock. But death is always a little bit shocking, no matter how prepared you ought to be for it. I'm so sad for my friend. I've been missing her for a few weeks now, but the full brunt of that sorrow is starting to weigh down on me now. But I'm also a little relieved to know that she isn't suffering any more.

My sister has a friend who has worked as a midwife and as a hospice worker-- talk about opposite sides of the spectrum! She explained that there is a very spiritual element in both birth and death. And this makes perfect sense to me. Being born forces you through this scary time and then you are lovingly placed in the arms of your mother. I see death as a kind of birth that returns you to the arms of your loving Heavenly Parents. And while I think both must be rather dramatic and-- let's face it-- possibly even terrifying experiences, as soon as it's over, the tears are wiped away and you're surrounded by love and amazement for what just transpired. I hope this is what has happened for Carla.

Even in her death, I am aware of many little blessings for which I am very thankful. And which I am going to list here, mostly to help me remember them.

First and foremost, I'm thankful that I was able to visit Carla. It would have been easy for Craig to tell me it was too expensive or too difficult or that we should wait until spring break or any number of things. But he didn't do that at all. He wrapped his arms around me and asked me when I should go. And then he looked up airline tickets for me. Thank you for understanding, Craig, and for making this happen. I would have been devastated if I wouldn't have had that last chance to see Carla and her children.

I'm thankful that I got to hear Carla's voice one last time on Sunday. She had stopped answering her phone by then-- talking on the phone made her cough too much. So I would call just to leave messages telling her I loved her, but not expecting her to answer. On Sunday, as I was driving home from church I thought to call her (which is unusual, since I don't normally call anyone during that short drive). I was surprised when someone answered-- her sister Cathy had picked up. I asked what the latest news was and told her to please tell Carla that I loved her, and in the background I heard Carla say, "Tell Alanna I love her!" That little sentence brings me so much peace now.

I'm thankful that Carla was able to visit with her children one last time on Sunday, the day before she was placed in the ICU. When I learned she'd been sedated, I worried that she had missed her chance to say any last good-byes. But then I understood that this visit with her children had been that chance. Her sister posted this picture on facebook. It looks like they had a lovely visit and I'm so glad for that.


I'm thankful that I was able to know what was going on these last couple weeks. I'm thankful that Cathy was willing to post updates on facebook. (That seems like such a callous way to spread sad news, but I don't know how else she could have communicated with all the people who were worrying and praying for Carla.) I had worried that if or when this happened, I might not even find out about it for weeks. So I was thankful that Cathy kept everyone informed, and also that I saw her post announcing Carla's passing before other people had a chance to write all over her wall, sending their condolences and messages of grief (it would have been kind of shocking to see one of those posts first!). It's a little thing to worry about, but it's nice that I found everything out in the gentlest way.

Just a few hours before she died, I sent Carla one last email, thanking her for what a wonderful friend she's been. I can't imagine that she ever saw it or heard it, but I'm glad I wrote it, just the same. I'm glad that-- for once-- I didn't put off writing an email that I thought of.

When Carla was a little girl, she sat in her primary class and burst into tears because the teacher kept calling her Carla. Through her tears, she insisted, "My name's not Carla, it's Bobo!" Ever since she told me that story, that's been my favorite nickname for her. And lest you think I have the monopoly on dreadful nicknames, she always called me Alanna-Mahana (all you familiar with Johnny Lingo will get that reference. And yes, it was usually accompanied with, "Alanna-Mahana, you ugly! Come down from that tree!").

Rest in peace, Carla. Thank you, again, for being my best friend. We'll continue this friendship in the hereafter. But until then, I'll miss you forever, Bobo.

Craig Quote

As we watched Ryder trying desperately to run and keep up with Bentley and Kendra, Craig commented, "Do you ever get the feeling that we just shoved a brand new driver onto the autobahn?"

Good luck, kid!

My Cause Right Now

My friend Carla isn't doing well. She's been in and out of the hospital for the last couple weeks, mostly because she's been coughing up blood. Apparently the cancer in her lung has formed a bleeding lesion. They've also found a couple new spots of cancer, too, so that had to have been incredibly disheartening.

Tomorrow is a Sunday which my church devotes to fasting-- it's a time when we go without food or water for about 24 hours and pray with special intent for whatever we feel we need, physically or spiritually. I know of several congregations that will be fasting and praying for Carla tomorrow. If you don't have anything you're already worried about, please consider joining all of us in praying for Carla. I can't imagine anything more difficult that what she is going through right now.

I believe in a God of miracles. I believe that even now, it's not too late for a miracle. And I can admit that I want one for purely selfish reasons: because the idea of a world without Carla in it terrifies me.

Carla has been my best friend since our freshman year in college. She's the kind of friend who, when you're a dumb sophomore, pulls you aside and lovingly tells you to stop being an idiot. And she does it so sweetly that you know she's saying this because she truly does love you. And you can only be grateful to have a friend who does hard things like that for you. Which means you have to actually try to stop being so dumb. The kind of friend who offers to do your laundry for you, the perfect roommate who cleans the apartment when she's stressed out. The person that you plan to live in the same retirement home with some day, so you can enjoy one another's company, but also take turns turning off each other's oxygen and pulling other fun pranks like that. She's the kind of friend who drives 8 hours one-way across Japan just to have lunch with you when you're a missionary. And she brings a suitcase full of American foods and shampoos along with her.

She's the kind of friend who throws you a bridal shower and then a baby shower a year or so later.

At my wedding, my maid of honor

Who, when she's watching your baby at Disneyland, buys him his first set of Mickey Mouse ears to try to keep him happy while you're away on a ride.

We still have Bentley's Mickey Mouse ears. He actually likes to wear them now, too!

She's the kind of friend you almost want to keep all to yourself, but you know she's so great that it doesn't surprise you a bit to look at her facebook group and realize that most everyone else considers her their best friend, too. (But really, I know I'm one of the few who she calls that. Really!) And instead of being jealous, you're just glad to see how many other people recognize how wonderful she is.

A bunch of roommates who all came from St. George the same weekend I came to visit-- yup, she's that popular!

So you can see why I just don't want Heavenly Father to take her away from all of us just yet. The world needs Carla.

I love this picture from her wedding day.

Please pray for Carla.

What Character Would You Be?

I woke up suddenly at 4:48am. Something was not right.

I listened for a moment and realized that I had accidentally gone to sleep with my door shut, the fan running, and the windows open-- a mistake I usually never make. With all three like that, there was no chance that I would hear Ryder if he woke up. I listened for one more moment-- yup, I could barely make out the sound of him screaming.

I quickly warmed up a bottle of milk, cuddled him while he guzzled it down, and put him back to bed. He slept super late the next morning, leaving me wondering just how long he'd been crying before I woke up? Sorry, baby!


Anyway. I can remember when my Mom used to read the Madeline books to me. I always related to Madeline-- I can picture me as a kid falling into the river, enjoying the attention I would get had my appendix ever needed to come out, and certainly not being afraid of the tiger at the zoo or mice. (I certainly have never loved winter, snow, or ice, though!)

But apparently, now, I relate more to Miss Clavel.


That's me! Or since these books take place in Paris, perhaps I should write, "C'est moi!"

Disappointment in the Kitchen

You know you're lazy when your back hurts from laying down too much. In my defense, I was sick today. But that doesn't mean I can't get Lucille Bluth's voice out of my head purring to her daughter that her twin brother had called her, "'A stay-in-bed mom...' Probably because you're lazy and you don't work. His words! Not mine..."

Yup. That was me today. The good news was that I didn't have much of anything going on today, and the kids mostly let me get away with being sick. This would have been worse if I'd had to cancel any big plans for the day. The bad news is that Craig is even worse off than I am, so I still got to be in charge of feeding the kids and putting them to bed. He did, however, conveniently schedule a doctor's appointment for himself tomorrow within ten minutes of Kendra's 4-year-check-up, so I guess we'll have a nice family outing in the morning!

The really annoying thing about all this is that I can't help but blame it on the awful dinner I made last night. Last night's dinner was so sad. I've said before on this blog that my cooking has come a long way since I first got married (when I knew how to make about three dishes, and they all served no less than 12 people). I can make breads and soups from scratch (the key is as much sour cream, heavy whipping cream, and cheese as you think your arteries can handle!), and desserts and all kinds of stuff now. I can even sometimes have it all ready at the same time! So I've also gotten more confident in my ability to spot a yummy recipe. But boy did I fail with this one.

It sounded so good: Thai vegetable curry. Doesn't that sound delicious? And it was from Dr. Fuhrmann's book, so it was healthy, too! Now, at this point, I should probably admit that I did not follow the recipe exactly. Usually when I'm trying something new, I follow it to. the. letter. That way, if I don't like it, I don't have to second-guess myself, wondering if it would have been better if I'd made it properly. So I didn't give Dr. Fuhrmann the chance I usually would give him. But in my defense, I have no idea where to find watercress (so I left it out) or Vegi-Zest seasoning (so I did what I usually do for that, and used a little bit of Mrs. Dash instead). I also used a little extra coconut milk, because I figured why not?

And this recipe was a pain. It called for a ton of ingredients (eggplant! bamboo shoots! watercress! coconut milk!) AND a bunch of fresh spices (mint! basil! cilantro!) so it was expensive to put it all together. And I had to do a lot of chopping, washing, and making rice. Expensive and it took a long time.

But I was excited to try it. I was even willing to inflict peanut butter on Craig for this one (he says this is the other reason he feels lousy today-- guess I can't pull that little trick any more)! I spent money like we had it and slaved away in the kitchen and sat down excitedly to eat this meal. And with the first bite I realized that it tasted...

...like

...nothing.


Seriously. It tasted like absolutely nothing. How could all those ingredients add up to no flavor whatsoever???

I was so disgusted I only ate half of what was on my plate. Then I turned to cereal for a little comfort. And flavor. I couldn't even count on Craig eating the leftovers (thanks to the peanut butter), so I just threw it all away.

What a waste.

So then when I got up this morning and realized that I couldn't stay vertical without feeling dizzy, I went from being disappointed to being utterly disgusted with this meal. When I was at my worst, I couldn't even type out the words "Thai vegetable curry" to Craig without wanting to throw up.

Down with Thai vegetable curry!!!! Down with watercress and coconut milk! I hate you all. Never will I waste my precious time and money on you again.



Okay, I'm finished now. I'm going to go lay back down again.

A Look That Says It All

Story Time!

I mentioned that while I was in L.A., I got to visit my friend Shaun. He runs a retirement home, so he took me on a quick tour of it, showing me the various improvements he'd been working on. As we went, he explained that one resident had complained bitterly when Shaun changed the way the dining room was run. Apparently this guy was NOT HAPPY when Shaun 1) stopped the policy of having bagged dinners, 2) changed their entrees so that there were now two choices instead of just one, and 3) added a salad bar. I'm not sure why anyone would complain about ANY of those changes, but some people are very hard to please, apparently. And don't like change. Ever. To make matters worse, this guy voiced his opinion by posting a nasty letter of complaint that-- among other things-- called Shaun a Nazi. And the guy put up copies of his letter all over the entire home. Nice.

Anyway. He was sitting in the lobby as we wandered around, so Shaun pointed him out and told me the whole story. When we passed through the lobby again, this man stopped us and asked if Shaun and I were related. We exchanged that awkward, "We don't look alike at ALL, do we?" glance, and explained that No, we're just old friends. At this, the man told us that the reason he'd asked was because we had "the same vague, yet determined" looks in our eyes.

I can honestly say that NO ONE has ever said that about me! I can't decide if I should be more complimented or insulted by it, but every time I try to make up my mind, I just end up laughing too hard to care.

I wonder if I could put that on a resume some day.

Vague, yet determined.

That's me! (And Shaun, too, apparently!)

These Boots Were Made for Walking

The exciting news around here (which doesn't at all explain why I didn't blogged last week, but oh, well-- the truth there is that I have no explanation) is that Ryder, at 15 months, is FINALLY walking!

I shouldn't complain about him taking so long, because he still beats Kendra by a good month for that particular milestone. But still. I was getting tired of carrying him all the time, so I'm glad he's finally there. Two things really seemed to encourage him. The first was when I went to L.A.: he walked all the way through the kitchen the first day I was gone, at least 10 steps. Fortunately for my mommy-guilt-muscles, Craig caught it on video, so I got to see it, even if I wasn't actually there. (I also got to hear Craig cheering him along, which made me smile. And miss my boys. And smile some more. And then miss them and sort of maybe want to cry a little.) But after that, he took a hiatus from the whole thing. Until (thing #2), I complained about him not walking in the lesson I taught for Young Womens last week. That seemed to seal the deal, because after that, he became very determined and now he's walking about as much as he's crawling.

I'm having a lot of fun watching him. He's still bad enough at it that he has to hold his upper body very stiffly to stay balanced-- arms up at the ready, head thrown back, all that good stuff. It makes me laugh. It's fun to see how much concentration it takes, knowing that soon he'll be running to keep up with his brother and sister. (Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if he can out-run Kendra before the year is up. Not that I have any reason to believe that Ryder will prove to be so athletic, Kendra is just that slow.)

Also in the "let's talk about what Ryder is learning to do" department: today for the first time ever, he stood up without using something to pull himself up! All my kids do this-- they walk before they can stand, so if they fall down, they have to crawl to the nearest wall to pull themselves back up again. But today at church, Ryder began working on standing up without any help. This is ALSO fun to watch, since he does it by sticking his bum up in the air and then straightening up. (I've seen a few adults do it, too, but it's cuter when babies do it!)

Good times.

Here's a video that shows him taking a few steps. I fully expect that only Grandmothers will watch it-- that's okay!

More Granola (you know you want it!)

Hey, readers!

So before I left for California, in addition to packing, cleaning the house and trying (but failing) to get the emissions test done on my car, I also found time to finally try out my friend Emily's granola recipe!!! No applause until after you've tried it. Because you're going to need to try it. And then you'll really want to clap.

First, the recipe:

Emily's Granola
4 1/4 cup rolled oats
2 c slivered almonds (I just use the 1 2/3 cup/6 oz bag usually)
1/2 c wheat germ
1 c coconut
1 tsp salt
1/2 c canola oil (you can use vegetable/corn oil)
1 can low-fat sweetened condensed milk
dried blueberries or craisins (I put in 2 large handfuls)

Mix all together in a large bowl. Spread out on a sheetcake pan. Toast at 350 for 14 minutes. Stir. Toast 10 more minutes watching the last few minutes to make sure it does not burn. If you want it more moist you can use just 4 cups of oats.


And, naturally, I have to stick in my own review, too.

We loved it. It was hilarious to watch Craig's first few bites, because he looked so skeptical (it's always hard when you already have such high expectations, so he was trying to not expect Kat's granola). Then he suddenly smiled, nodded, and just said, "Oh, yeah." I had used blueberry-infused craisins (because they were cheaper than actual dried blueberries), and the granola tasted like blueberry muffins. But granola. It was great. And also a lot easier to make than the other recipe (partly because there are less ingredients to measure, but also because it has less steps and bakes hecka faster), so that's definitely a plus. I suspect it's not quite as healthy, so there is that to consider. But I'm not going to worry too much about that-- granola is inherently at least a little bit healthy, right??? And it also doesn't make as much. Yeah, yeah, you could double it (or halve Kat's recipe, I suppose), but then it wouldn't be quite as super easy as it is. So for now I'm not doing any doubling.

Anyway. I now have two great granola recipes! And you do, too!

Thanks, Emily!



P.S. I said in my previous post that I never bothered making this the first time I tried it because I couldn't find all the ingredients. Um, why was this so hard? I think I could tell you which aisle every single one of those ingredients is found in at SuperTarget. Apparently I have come a LONG WAY in my ability to grocery shop!

Californ-I-A

I went out to Los Angeles this weekend for a super quick visit with my friend Carla. Carla has been fighting cancer for a while now. And while she is still fighting very hard and we are hoping and praying every day for her, the doctor's pronouncement that her cancer is incurable and that she will need to be on chemo for the rest of her life scared the crap out of me. I hadn't seen Carla since her wedding and hadn't met either of her two children yet. Clearly this needed to be remedied sooner rather than later. So away I went.


Craig was really nice about letting me ditch him and the three kiddos all weekend. And I missed them all like CRAZY the whole time I was there. (Especially when I was driving around, which surprised me. I thought I'd enjoy the peace and quiet, but instead I was just totally bored. Boo for California's no-driving-while-talking-on-the-phone laws and boo for not having my kids to entertain me!) But it was SO good to finally see Carla again! I also had the added bonus of staying with my cousin Anne and her husband Simon, and getting to meet their three children (for the first time for all three of them!), and I managed to squeeze in a quick visit with my buddy Shaun from BYU, so that was also great.

Some highlights, lowlights, and general thoughts from the trip:

-Everyone has totally cute kids! And somehow I managed to not take a single picture of any of them-- gah! But trust me, there are oodles of adorable children in LA these days. It is worth going to LA just so you can see their cute kids!

-I like California drivers way better than Virginia drivers. Any time I needed to change lanes, I would signal, and people would just let me in! It was like magic! In Virginia, if you signal, they usually speed up so you can't get in. It's really awesome. It's led to me developing a technique of driving wherein you look for a really nice car (like a BMW or a Mercedes; a Lexus will do in a pinch) and then cut them off. In a game of chicken, you know that the beemer is going to brake before the 10-year-old minivan will.

-I learned that if you are prone to motion sickness, you shouldn't fly into the Windy City when they're having a particularly windy day. And you especially shouldn't do it with a crazy early flight which makes it impossible for you to eat breakfast. And if you're dumb enough to ignore that advice, then make sure you have an air sickness bag in your seat pocket. Otherwise you'll have nowhere to throw up but all over yourself. Which is really, really gross. (Good thing I hadn't checked my bag and was able to change clothes in the airport before the next leg of my journey. Ugh.)

-I like the California freeway system. Even though they have 500 times as many people as DC, their traffic isn't any worse. (Really, I just looked up the population of each and did the math. That's no exaggeration). Clearly, they're doing something better than we are. Maybe DC should try making the freeway get wider the closer you to the city, instead of narrower. And stop wasting all the room at the shoulder for cops to sit on and give you tickets, and just use that space for cars to drive on. Just a thought. (I never saw a cop on the freeway the entire time I was there. And consequently you didn't have people slamming on their brakes to look at the police. I think there's a cause and effect relationship going on there that needs to be explored.)

-It's hard to be a lot of help to someone who's so sick, so I was kind of proud of myself for any little thing I found to do. Carla was sweet about acting like I was a big help (instead of, say, getting angry when I offered to push her wheelchair super fast through the parking lot). Things I found to do: get cough drops as needed, give leg massages, talk so much that she didn't have a chance to nap (she said that was a good thing because then she slept well that night. I'm not sure if that was just her being charitable or not), push the wheelchair (at a normal speed), open bottles of water. I had this idea in my head that I could help out with her kids some, but they're just at that age where you have to know them to understand what they're saying, so I mostly ended up trying to keep out of the way so their Grandma and Daddy could get them what they needed. Ah, well.

-Speaking of kids, it's good for me to miss my own kids so much. It's good for me to remember just how much I really do love them. But I felt bad for how much they missed me. Craig took this picture to illustrate their sorrow at my absence:
It's hard to see, but Bentley is wrapped in a blanket under the table. Apparently he spent 45 minutes moping there. And this was while Daddy was making sugar cookies with them!

-A really great way to introduce yourself to the couple you'll be sitting in the middle of (apparently she likes a window seat and he likes an aisle seat?) is by asking the flight attendant for a sick bag the second you sit down. They'll be so excited you chose to sit with them! (I managed to not be ill on that leg of the journey, thank goodness. I think the couple was quite relieved. I was, too, actually.)

-I drove on Sunset Boulevard for about 150 feet. It's kind of embarrassing how excited I got over that. Same thing when my friend Shaun showed me the view of the Hollywood sign at the retirement home he manages. I've spent just enough time going to California as a kid that I think I should be immune to the touristy stuff. But I guess I'm not! (Just for the record, I don't include Disneyland with the touristy stuff that I should be over; you can never be too excited about going there!)

-One last thing about how great California is: the weather. It's to die for. It really is perfect all year round! If the whole rest of the world didn't know about that and hadn't already moved there, I would definitely be pushing to move there myself. As it is, I think it's probably too crowded for me to ever take the plunge. But I do love California.

-I certainly wasn't the only one anxious to visit Carla. A few of her roommates from when she lived in St. George came on Saturday to see her, too. It turns out that the Cheesecake Factory is a great place to eat on a Saturday afternoon with a whole gang of girls. We had a blast. And ate so much I nearly exploded. But in a good way.



-With all the people clamoring for Carla's attention, I was very pleased to get an hour of just the two of us. It was nice to be able to talk freely about how she's feeling about this whole ordeal. We cried a lot, we laughed a lot. But even with the added tears (and the lack of hair, and the screws she's been sporting in her head-- which come out today!), it was nice to be reminded that through it all, Carla is still Carla. She's still-- and always will be-- my best friend. Even cancer can't take that away.



Love you, Carla!

Pride. And then a tangent about human nature.

Let me begin by saying that since this whole running thing began back in July, I have never thought of myself as a Runner. And I probably never will. But there have been a few things I've noticed recently about my running that please me no end. At the risk of making you hate me, I'm going to brag for a bit:

~Before I started running, I considered anyone who could run a mile straight without taking a break to be a true "runner." And something of an athlete. And I can do that now! It's not even that hard! And it makes me happy.

~There have been two mornings so far that, after I finish my run, the remote control for my car is FROZEN. Yup. I'm tough enough to run when it's that cold outside.

~One morning, as I was driving home from my run (yup, I drive to Vangie's house. How lame is that? But there were a bunch of break-ins happening in the neighborhood, and I figured it was better to be safe than sorry), I drove by a woman out jogging. I saw her and my knee-jerk reaction was, "Wow! Who gets up this early to go jogging??? That woman is so hard-core!" And then I realized that I had done just that, too. And I flushed with pleasure at my own hard-coreness.


All this leads to a totally different point. My friend Juliana wrote to me recently and mentioned that, although she was had been running all summer, she would not consider herself a runner because what she was doing was really just some slow jogging. And I read her email and nodded to myself, thinking, Well, that is exactly true for me, too. I'm certainly not out there sprinting! And that's why I'm not a Runner! But then I thought some more. Based on my pre-running definition, what we were doing definitely should have counted as running. It just didn't seem to count in the same way now that we could do it.

Why is it that as soon as we reach a milestone, we immediately decide that the milestone was too easy or should be moved a bit farther away or just doesn't count? I'm not sure if it's human nature or some weird way of being humble or what, but I see myself doing this all the time. I tell myself I can't cook. I work hard to try new recipes and get a lot better at cooking. But I still don't consider myself anything like a good cook. I have a bunch of kids and I work and work and work at trying to be a half-way decent mother to them. But I still don't think of myself as being much of a mom. I spend a lot of time looking around at other moms and trying to understand what they're doing, because I'm sure it's got to be better than whatever I'm doing.

I'm not necessarily saying this is a bad thing. When there's so much room for improvement (and it turns out there's room for improvement in EVERYTHING we bother doing), it only makes sense to keep looking for ways to improve. It would be pretty sad if I just let myself be satisfied with whatever status quo* I've already managed to reach. But what I am saying is that maybe it's okay to let ourselves actually reach some of those milestones and goals.

Maybe it's okay to think of ourselves as being kind of good at the things we're learning to do. We can do that without turning into snobby, prideful people, right? Without falling into the pit of feeling smug and better than other people? Maybe I should be trying to think of myself as a runner. Or someone who can follow a recipe with some level of competence. Or even a decent mom.

I mean, why not?



*I have to say it: "Because the status is NOT quo!"

Keep Smiling (breathing optional)

I'm sort of freaking out right now. I've been spending the last couple of days dealing with way too many bureacracies and/or people who are out to take as much money from me as they can-- banks, the DMV, and auto mechanics. Plus, I found out yesterday that Kendra has pneumonia. Ryder is doing great, so I'm sure she will be soon, too. But still! She's probably had it for a while. The doctor assured me that without her running a fever or acting particularly sick, there was really no way for me to be able to tell, but I still feel terrible for not knowing sooner.

So rather than dwelling on all the things that are making me miserable and about to start hyperventilating, I'm going to blog about things that have made me smile recently. Maybe that will help me to keep breathing. Here goes:

-Kendra's birthday was on Saturday! She's my big 4-year-old now! For the most part she had a lovely day. At the very end, right as we were dishing up cake for her, she complained that her ear hurt and she wanted to lay down for a bit before she ate her cake. So we just put her to bed without cake-- sad, huh? And I'm pretty sure that was the pneumonia that I hadn't been noticing... (This was the reason that I took her to see the doctor, just for the record.)

Gotta love a big stack of presents from Grandma and Grandpa!

-A few months ago, Bentley asked me if I'd ever seen a tornado. I told him I hadn't, but that I wanted to. He immediately began spinning in a tight circle and waving his arms all crazy around himself and announced, "Well this is your lucky day! Because you get to see a tornado!" Tornado Bentley. I love it.

-Also on Kendra's birthday, she got a balloon from Red Robin, but it popped in the parking lot. This sent her into a crying fit (pneumonia? what? sick kid who cries over silly things? huh?), and I hurried back inside the restaurant to get her a new balloon. (Normally I'd be tougher and explain that sometimes balloons pop. But it was her birthday, so I didn't feel the need to be overly heartless.) Fortunately they had some more balloons by then, and all was well. Yesterday, Bentley set about on another one of his projects. This time, he made a paper balloon for Kendra, and attached it to the string of the popped one (which had been left in the car). He pointed out to her that this one was even better, since it couldn't pop. He's a good brother!

This picture just makes me laugh. That's the cake she didn't eat until the next day.

-And one more Bentley art project for you: a couple weeks ago, the kids got up and let me sleep a bit late. When they finally burst into my room, they announced excitedly that they'd made the Star-Spangled Banner! Sure enough, they'd been hard at work on an American flag for me! Bentley even taped 4 pieces of paper together to make it bigger. They were trying to replicate THE Star-Spangled Banner that is currently on display at the Museum of American History. I guess that trip wasn't a complete waste of time after all!

-I forgot to mention before, but one of the things Ryder likes to do is to scoot backwards. It's not that impressive: when he's crawling, he'll suddenly just switch to reverse and begin pushing himself backwards. But every time he does it, he'll just grin and giggle maniacally as if he is doing the trickiest thing in the world. That makes me laugh.

Phew. I'm feeling better now. What are the things that keep you smiling?

More Doctors Visits

This has been another sleep-deprived week around here. Ryder, just barely over hand foot & mouth disease, developed a cough on Saturday which quickly grew into a fever that wouldn't go away. Monday's visit to the doctor revealed that he had pneumonia. Pneumonia! That was a bit of a shock, honestly. No one in my family has ever had pneumonia, so it just wasn't what I was expecting. (I was expecting the usual, "Yup, it's a virus! It will go away in a few days. Call if it gets worse!" sort of news. The kind where you wonder why you bothered dragging your kid into the doctor's office at all.)

I guess we're fortunate that the doctor decided to do a chest x-ray, even though that was no fun to watch Ryder endure (for babies, they pull their arms as high above their head as possible and then buckle this huge plastic restraining thing all around them so they can't move at all. It's very effective and keeps them still for the x-ray, but Ryder screamed bloody murder the entire time. And then it was time to draw blood!).

The doctor started him on the strongest antibiotics right away, and by the next day he was already so much better. At his follow-up appointment the next day, the nurse took his temperature and it registered exactly at 98.6. I hadn't realized that I was pretty worried until I saw how relieved that number made me. I kept grinning stupidly and thinking, "What a beautiful temperature!" What a miracle those drugs are, huh? It's funny, because recently I've been reading a lot of stuff about how so many drugs are unnecessary and if people just ate more nutritious food we wouldn't need them so much. And that's probably very true. But for those times when you DO need drugs, I am very thankful for modern medicine! I'm also thankful that Craig called the doctor when Ryder's fever stayed so high. What if I would have decided to let it go for a few days???

Anyway. The important thing is that he's on the mend now.

The other important thing is the great Kendra-ism that came out of this. When the doctor arrived to look at Ryder, Kendra pointed at Ryder's nipples and mentioned off-handedly, "He could feed himself with those!" I've never seen a doctor try so hard not to laugh! He was even still laughing about it the next day!

Milk Time

Usually when Ryder wakes up, he snuggles in my arms while he drinks his bottle. But today there were too many fun things on the floor, so he wiggled down to look at them. Then he wanted his bottle again, allowing me the chance to snap these pictures:

Snuggling with his doggy.

I am certainly not a photographer. But I think this shot is beautiful.

My New Shoes

Yup. I bought them! They just arrived yesterday.

I'm so excited to try them out. But unfortunately, they arrived during a "wintery mix*" of rain and snow, just as night was falling. And while they're supposed to be great for your feet and knees, I'm pretty sure they're not designed for a romp through freezing cold wetness! So I haven't tried them out yet.

Anyway, my transformation into being a complete hippie draws ever nearer. But along with refusing to try cloth diapers, I'm pretty sure I'll also never homeschool (which, a couple of you pointed out, means really leaving mainstream America behind!). I read this blog post about a woman who homeschooled her children for approximately 20 minutes. It sounded so much like me that it was sort of eerie just reading it-- especially her image of how it would go and the direct contrast to how it actually went. I'm just going to count her experience as my own and learn from it.

Anyway, back to the shoes. It's beautifully sunny outside today (albeit cold), so hopefully when Craig gets home I'll have time to at least run around the block or something. Dinner is already cooking away in the crock pot, so that buys me some extra time in the afternoon!

After I ordered my shoes, a friend sent me this hilarious video. I haven't even used the shoes yet, but that guy sounds way too much like me. In fact, I should be issuing apologies if you've been victim to my incessant talking about the book Born to Run!!!! (Truly, I'm sorry!) Oh, and don't be put off by the title-- the video is completely G-rated, I promise!




Don't worry, no matter how converted I become to these shoes, I won't make you call me Barefoot Alanna!



*Is it just me, or does that sound like it should be a salad or something? Or perhaps a salad dressing to go with iceberg lettuce? I dunno...

**And speaking of Born to Run, it was especially fun as I was reading it when it talked about Abebe Bikila, an Ethiopian marathoner who won the 1960 Olympics running barefoot. I guess Vibram is going to ignore the fact that he-- apparently-- later injured himself running barefoot, too. In any case, I had wondered where the name for the model of shoes I picked out-- Bikila-- came from. It's always nice when those knowledge gaps get filled in!

Ryder: an Update

I keep meaning to do a post about Ryder, and then I keep getting distracted by facebook. Curse that social network! I waste more time there...!

Anyway, Ryder is an absolute delight, except when he's sick. Like he is right now. Which started yesterday, when he woke up from his nap with a temperature of 102. I didn't do much about it at the time, other than putting him down for another nap sooner than I normally would have. I usually figure a little bit of fever will help his body fight off whatever bug he has. But when he woke up from the second nap he was burning up-- just picking him up he felt like he was on fire. I took his temperature again and now it was 104. So then I panicked and called the nurse hotline while giving him tylenol. She agreed he should probably see a doctor, and got the doctor to squeeze him in that day.

The good news is that it's nothing too serious and should go away in a few days. The bad news is that this put a screeching halt to my plans to visit my friend Carla in Los Angeles the next day. Carla has been fighting cancer for close to two years now, so me exposing her to Ryder's virus would have been very bad. And I was going to stay with my cousin, who just gave birth to a beautiful little girl on Wednesday. The brand new baby probably didn't need virus-carrying me around, either. So that trip has been pushed back a couple weeks and we'll hope for better health all around then.

But enough about that! How about if I tell you the fun stuff about Ryder?

-He is completely uninterested in walking. I have to persuade him to even walk holding my hands these days. And don't even think about asking him to try any steps without something to hold onto!

-Instead, he is much more interested in climbing up and down the stairs. He's been climbing up for a while, and then at the Museum of American History, was practicing climbing down the three stairs he found there. Unfortunately, he was going down head-first, which would not have worked well on our stairs which are steeper, longer, and made of wood. So last week Craig taught him how to crawl down feet-first, and now that's all he wants to do. When I close the baby gate, he'll hold onto it and scream until I finally relent and let him go down again. One of these days we just need to take down the gates, but he still slips just often enough and those wooden stairs are so hard that I'm really dreading it. I fear the bumps and bruises whenever he finally falls without me there to catch him...

-He's very opinionated now. This is a good and a bad thing. It's kind of fun when I offer him something he wants (like goldfish crackers) and get to watch him kicking and grabbing with his hands in anticipation. It's kind of annoying when I offer him something he doesn't want (oatmeal), and watch him shake his head No at me. Or if I ignore the head-shaking and try to feed it to him anyway, he'll push my hand away, turning his head and pursing his lips. There really isn't any way to make him eat anything he doesn't want. But at least he knows what he likes!

-He loves loves LOVES dogs. Any time we see one, he'll get all excited and point and squeal, "Ah-dog-uh!" It's close enough to correct that I'm counting that as his first word, actually. This makes our walks to and from Bentley's school very exciting, because we pass several houses that usually have dogs in the yard. Ryder knows where they all are and will crane his neck around trying to spot his furry friends.

-He also loves Bentley, Kendra and Daddy, naturally. Actually, his word for Daddy is remarkably close to his word for doggy. Okay, it might be the same word. So does that mean he has two first words? Anyway, they all do a great job of taking care of him and loving him right back. At the doctor's, when they kept taking his temperature, Kendra would dutifully feed him goldfish crackers to calm him down. And then when it was time for bed, Bentley offered to let him sleep with Teddy. And of course, Craig is just the best daddy all the time. Obviously.

-He loves the song "The Itsy Bitsy Spider." When I sing it, he starts busting up laughing at the part about "washed the spider out." I don't really know why. As soon as I'm done singing, he points one finger in the air-- his way of asking for me to sing it again. (He doesn't do this for any of the other songs I sing. Just this one.)

-Between his birthday and Christmas, he learned how to unwrap presents. It was pretty funny watching him go to work on each present-- he would just dutifully begin tugging at the wrapping paper, but with none of the joy and excitement that older kids display. And then he would move on to the next one!

-He likes to play peek-a-boo. He's been doing this for a while by turning his head away and assuming that was enough to make him disappear. But now he'll suddenly put his hands over his eyes and then pull them away with a smile. It's great.

-Sometimes when he's really enjoying his food, he'll make humming noises with every bite. That's when you know that he's happy.

-Similarly, when I do something that he likes, he'll turn to me and murmur, "Mammammam..." It means he's perfectly content. And that makes me pretty happy.

-He suddenly figured out the toy car he got for his birthday and now he LOVES to sit on it while I push him back and forth. He just grins like he knows that he's hot stuff with his wheels.

-He likes to look at me, crinkle his nose, and then snort through it. And then I do it right back to him. I'm not sure what we're saying, but it's some form of communication! (It also reminds me of my little sister, who used to make that noise trying to imitate a hog in labor, so that always makes me laugh to myself.)

-He also likes to squeeze his eyes shut and smile at people. It's pretty goofy, but also really fun. He's a nut. But I love him.


-And overall, he's just a really happy, sweet boy! Except when he's sick. Like today. So I'm praying for a speedy recovery!

My love affair with granola (the food. Not the lifestyle).

I am not someone who grew up eating granola. That's kind of weird, considering I'm from Seattle and the entire west coast is probably more "granola" than the east coast. But I just never ate it. I'm not sure if this was because my Mom didn't buy it or because she bought it and I chose not to eat it. Either scenario is entirely possible. I remember having a granola bar once or twice and not liking it unless there were chocolate chips in it. And even then, I figured I would rather just lick the chocolate off that crunchy stuff and then throw it away. So what was the point?

I also have a vivid memory of a favorite high school teacher of mine telling us the story of an extended camping-and-whitewater-rafting trip he went on when he was in college in which the only food provided turned out to be granola. And the first day, it accidentally got dumped in the river during the whitewater rafting. So they spent the entire time surviving on soggy-- and then moldy-- granola. He hated granola more passionately than you can probably imagine. Students would frequently slip granola bars into his desk as a joke, and although he was a super fun teacher, that was the only joke he never found funny.

I can't eat granola without thinking of him. And laughing.



So those are pretty much the sum of my experiences with granola. I don't love it and my teacher hated it. End of story. Until. The day my friend Emily offered me some homemade granola. I was reluctant. But I knew very well that Emily is a fabulous chef. She's one of those people who whips up homemade soups and desserts and things without even thinking about it and they're always amazing and usually not that hard to make (or at least, she says they're easy-- they always sound on the complicated side to me). Most of my favorite recipes are ones I stole from her. So I already knew to eat whatever Emily offered me from her kitchen. Which was why I tried the granola.

And it was no exception to her standard excellence. Who would have guessed that granola could taste like this???

This would be worth making, I thought. I asked for the recipe.

But then I couldn't find some of the ingredients (dry milk, I think? Where is that in a grocery story???) and the ones I could find were expensive (who knew that wheat germ was so pricey???), so I never got around to making it. Which is what happens to about 83% of all fabulous recipes that I collect, unfortunately. (Sorry, Pinterest, but you know it's true.)

So that was that, until a year and a bit ago, when I invited sisters and family-friends-the-Hogans to spend Thanksgiving with us. (And by "spend Thanksgiving with us" what I actually meant was, "Come stay at my house and my mother-in-law will cook a feast for you! And then I'll have a baby three days later! Fun!") To help out with the food a bit, Kat brought homemade granola with her. She'd made an enormous bowl of it and it disappeared so quickly. We ate it with milk for breakfast. We snacked on it. And it was delicious. When she left the last little bit with us, I was thrilled because I wouldn't have said it out loud but I really wanted that granola.

So when we started trying to eat healthier, I decided it was finally time to buckle down and make granola. And it turns out it's not that hard and it really is so good! I make it every few weeks now. And even though the recipe makes a TON, it's always gone in a few days. We love it. You should try it. But you'll have to make your own, because ours will be gone by the time you get here.

So here is Kat's recipe! Whenever I find Emily's (or have her send me a new copy), I'll post that one, too, because they're pretty different and both really great. Happy, healthy crunching!



Kat's Granola
8 cups oats, no instant
1 1/2 cups brown sugar
1 1/2 cups wheat germ (optional)
8 oz. almonds
8 oz. cashews
8 oz. coconut, unsweetened, large ribbon
3 oz. sunflower seeds
1/2 cup water
1/2 cup oil
1/2 cup honey
1/2 cup peanut butter (<---- Since Craig is allergic to peanuts, I just use almond butter instead)
2 tsp. vanilla
1 cup raisins

Mix oats, sugar, nuts, coconut, and sunflower seeds in a large bowl. Heat water, oil, honey, and peanut butter until it begins to bubble. Add vanilla and pour over dry ingredients. Mix well and spread on two large cookie sheets. Bake in 200 degree oven for about two hours or until coconut is golden. Stir occasionally while baking. Add raisins when cool. Store in an airtight container.
(From Bed and Breakfast Inns of Utah)

Material Girl. Sort of. Not Really.

Every time someone posts something on facebook about how they "just love using cloth diapers (squee!)," I suspect that they're lying to me. It must be one of those "misery loves company" things, and they're trying to coerce me into joining them in cloth diaper hell. Right?

I've already become too granola: I'm eating a lot less meat and dairy. I'm a fan of natural birth (preferably at home!) and breastfeeding. I'm seriously considering getting special shoes that would enable me to "run barefoot." I actually-- literally-- make granola and eat it as often as I can afford to. And worse yet, the rest of the family loves it, too, so we go through a huge batch in a matter of days.

If I switched to cloth diapers, I'd have officially left mainstream America as I know it. So in order to preserve my own idea of who I am, I will not ever try cloth diapers.

Never.

So stop trying to convince me.

So True.

This blog Momastery has been printing a series of "best of" posts and they are awesome. I first learned about it when a bunch of my friends linked her post on facebook about the awful thing old ladies like to say to young mothers-- "Enjoy every minute of your kids being little!" This woman's response was so spot-on to how I feel that I immediately became a follower. And now she posts this message about the choice to stay home or work, and I find myself wishing she lived here in Manassas so I could look her up and we could be best friends. Read them! Read them both! Then read all the posts in between, because they really are that good.

Why can't I write like her? No matter, I'm just glad that she can and is willing to take the time to share her talents with the likes of me!

Happy Saturday to all!

Conversations with My Children

Bentley and Kendra were supposed to be getting dressed in their room while I was checking on Ryder. I went back upstairs to find them both fully clothed, laying on their beds, trying to suppress giggles. I took the bait and asked, "What's going on, guys?"

And they responded gleefully, "We're pretending to be dead!"

"Oh... Um, why?"

"So that way if the evil decepticons show up, they'll think we're dead! And then when they leave, we can rise up and shoot them!"

That may be the weirdest answer I have ever heard. To anything.



A few minutes later they announced that they had the magical power to turn anyone into a transformer. So it won't be long before I give up my humdrum life as a stay-at-home mom and resume it as Sentinel Prime. Bentley is already Bumblebee, Kendra is Optimus Prime, and Ryder is Megatron (he likes to roar, so that qualifies him as a bad guy, apparently), so I should fit right in.



Life. It's such an adventure!

A (very short and not in-depth at all) Political Rant

Every time I see these bumper stickers

I get angry.

Are these people paying attention to what's going on in this country at all? To the economy? Our abysmal foreign policy? The horrendous health care we'll be saddled with in just a couple years? The war in Afghanistan? The fact that gitmo still is open? The extravagant vacations and golf and weird hushed-up White House parties while most of the country is struggling to find work? Who is it, exactly, who still likes Obama? I would think that there are things in the above list that would make both conservatives and liberals angry.

Now, once the Republican Party has chosen its nominee, if you would prefer Obama to that person, then that is your right and privilege. I may disagree with you, but it is still a free country.

But to be rooting for him when you don't even know the alternative?

Really???