What If...

I revamped this space into a food blog?

I'm thinking daily pictures and food in a Bridget Jones Diary kind of way. Yes? No?

It's pretty much my only constant topic except for that little side writing I do. *ahem*

Let's see what happens.

That one

My Magic Minnow Boy will be one year old tomorrow...

I'm still not quite sure how that happened. How did he become this scrumptious walking pumpkin who knows my name?

He was the one I was waiting for. The end of my pregnancy with him was so frustrating because I knew we needed him so much and it was taking so, so long.

Who is he? I want to write words to describe him without pasting him down in a way that's not bright enough.

He throws his head back and pooches his lips out like a fish when he pouts. He presses his hand to his mouth like, "kisses, Mama, kisses" when he wants me to come and get him instead of walking.

He's just started the Baby-Booty-Shakin-Dance. He especially loves the cheesy songs the boys' toys play, the Name Game, and Single Ladies. Funny Boy. The song that will always be our is "King of Anything"...

If Winston is like a fragile gift that someone left me to love, and Wednesday is like a permanent attachment to my body, then Minnow is just mine...

He is ... so expressive with his eyebrows, to a comical degree. He loves his brothers fiercely and they love him back in a way that still shocks me. The big boys fight and wrestle and howl at each other, but they adore that baby.

I think my husband is still kind of shocked by him as well. He is so fully himself, and has been since the moment he was born, that it's astounding to think he can't even speak yet.

I feel like this is my forever family. Finally. These are my boys.

I love you, pretty baby. You made my heart fit right. You make me love your brothers better and cut your Papa enough slack to see things clearly.

Happy Birthday...

Comfort Me With Apples

This morning we remembered to eat our apples and honey.

Then we all preceded to be extremely grumpy at each other all morning.

Then it was nap time. Not even Harry Potter could bring us together.

I'm declaring the rest of today a Comfort Day.

Right now that means extra coffee, extra SpongeBob, and a yummy snack.

Later, it means trying out new pasta shapes with dinner: Ditalini and Radiatore.

Before bed, it means giving Harry Another go, and adding as many extra stories as Mama's eyeballs can stand.

My husband's blood sugar has been finicky all day and he's bringing home a disk full of Winston's very first baby pictures.

Comfort...

I have two new pink-topped stools in my garage.

My Amber sent me the link to this recipe, which may very well happen on Sunday for Grandparents Day: http://realmomkitchen.com/27/german-apple-pancakes/

Minnow will be One Year Old in 15 days.

For Starters

My Grandmother began making her own bread every week when I was really little. It was a recipe given to her by a friend that has now become something looked forward to by 2 generations of young people. My cousins and I called it "Grandmother Bread", the newest generation has deemed it "Gigi Bread".

She sent us home with one loaf when we left her house on the 28th of December. That night, when we got to NM, I put it in our little fridge and we ate it the next day for snack.

It traveled home with us. Half a loaf of the treasured bread. It is the kind of thing that is almost too good to eat, so I always have to throw the last bit out from sitting too long in the fridge.

I have asked my Grandmother before for her recipe, but the need for a starter and long travel time back home has prevented me from recreating her bread at home.

Yesterday, one of my most admired online friends led me to a website about creating my own start to the Gigi Bread tradition and I was ecstatic. With familial food feelings abounding, I decided to make my Mama's roast and called her for her recipe.

When I came out to the front of the house today while the boys all slept my house smelled exactly like my Grandmother's house does when we come to visit her. Smells of day long cooking and practiced recipes and warmth. It was shocking to me that I could recreated that smell.

I sat down with a cup of tea to look through my newest Paula Deen cookbook while my babies dozed. I adore Paula's cookbooks for very similar reasons as those smells I was conjuring in my kitchen. After many mouthwatering recipes I came upon one for the very kind of bread that my Grandmother bakes religiously. It is a recipe that's been passed down through the Deen family for generations.

Even though it's not the same as my Grandmother's bread, it is so close that it felt like a gift. And with my mind full of memories, I mopped up the last of my dinner, alone at my table, with a thick slice of the remaining Gigi bread. Now I know I can give my boys this gift even when my Grandmother is far far away.

Starter is a living thing. A life long commitment, if I want to make it. It's a fresh start.

In a Blue Moon

I had an existential crisis on Christmas Eve. I lost my purpose and it scared me so much. It was my husband's birthday, the baby turned 3 months old, the older 2 were sick, and we were supposed to leave the next day on an 8 hour car trip.

I cried, I thought thoughts that I really shouldn't think. It was just no good.

The excitement I usually feel on Christmas Eve was not there at all and it was completely depressing. "Santa" was not happy to give her gifts. The cookie baking lead to fits, the bike for Winston was a complete failure, and all the day's events were leading to the worst Christmas of my adult life.

But then the big boys wouldn't sleep and I started to get nervous about the presents I needed to arrange in secret. The nervousness led to much cherished excitement and I got everything done about the time it changed from Eve to Day on Christmas.

The Day was pretty good. I may write about the gifts that were really successful, but mostly I just want to remember the boys playing all day long, the relaxed "it's Christmas" feelings, and being able to pull together a stellar Christmas Dinner when I thought we weren't having anything but leftovers and candy.

We left on the 26th in a surreal mood. The trip was going to be long, and yet we really didn't care. We were in the van, we were traveling, and it was going to be ok.

Being with all of my Father's family usually makes me want to scream and hide, but this time I relished it. I loved every person I saw, savored every bite of my Grandmother's food, and was even better to my boys that I ever am at home.

After some time with my family we went to NM to see The Mr.'s Dad and his wife. We were snowed in and the feeling was indescribable. We were stuck, if only for a few hours, together. My boys, big and little, and me, in a kitchenette hotel room. The window in the little kitchen faced north, and when Winston woke up he ran to the window with his Papa and said, "Mommy, look! It's snowing!!"

The boys played in the snow, sat at the table to do newly gifted art projects, and swam in the hotel's indoor pool.

We went to visit Grandfather and Lamb (husband's father's wife's maiden name, and the name I'll use here when writing about her) the second day of our trip, after naptime. The Mr.'s father was so grateful that we'd come, even if our only visiting was done in the hospital waiting room. He told me my husband's nickname as a baby as I watched Lamb tear up. We didn't know if he was ever going to make it out of the hospital.

The morning before we left, we took the boys to see them one last time. The Mr. and I were both anxious. It could have been the last time he ever saw his father alive. My husband pulled out the fancy new shirt our boys had chosen for him for Christmas to wear that day and I knew he was feeling a loss even if it hadn't happened yet.

The last thing his Dad said to me was that he hoped he'd make it out of the hospital.

Lamb called yesterday evening when we were just a couple of hours from home.

Today, my FIL is going home. Home to his house, with his Lamb. They asked if he wanted to stay through the weekend, and he chose to leave early. I am so happy that he made it out of the hospital, and so proud that my little ones visiting may have helped him to get there.

Tonight, there will be a Blue Moon in the sky. I want to go home too. I want to find my home inside my own insides, and curl up in my bed there.

Today I have listened to music, read a chapter in a real book, and tried to give myself some room to breathe. My purpose, rather it remains the same, is slightly revised, or radically different, is in there somewhere. I don't want to feel any loss that doesn't yet need to happen.

I can let myself go home once in a blue moon.

Status

We are 3 full days and a little extra from Christmas Day. We have Winston and Wednesday on antibiotics for bronchitis, and the Mama is seriously stuffy-nosed with a frog in her throat.

I need oranges for stockings, another gift for my mother (the handmade thing I had planned didn't happen), and I really wanted to get The Mr. a couple of more things too. Oh! The 24th is also his birthday, so I'm cooking an extremely parred down birthday meal for him. I usually do a Feast of the Seven Fishes type thing, but I just don't have it in me this year. The grocery store and Target both need to be visited tomorrow.

The plans, as they stand, are to open non-Santa gifts on the 24th. Our has-accidentally-become-tradition Christmas breakfast will be served that morning. We were also going to take the boys to Grandma's house to see their cousins and get their biggest Santa gift that day. It's a good thing I put them together in my MIL's garage, as it looks like that's as far into Grandma's house as we'll be going.

We had planned to leave as soon as we were done with Santa's offerings on the 25th to drive about 8 hours to my Grandmother's house. The 27th we're supposed to drive another 220 miles to see The Mr.'s father and his wife in New Mexico. The boys need more long pants, the baby needs a warmer hat, and we need snacks for the car (see need for grocery store and Target).

So, ummm, HOLY MOLY YOU GUYS.

We have sickness, we have travel preparation with a new baby, and we have unfinished Christmas/Birthday stuff.

I am slightly overwhelmed and extremely calm all at the same time. I guess that's Christmas.

Alive and Well

Hello, Beauties!!

I'm an awful blogger, I know. But I'm here, right now, so...Ta da!!

We are all doing pretty good these days. Winston is so big. I was four feet and eight inches tall in the fourth grade. My oldest son is two inches away from being four feet tall and he is four years old!

Tomorrow is his big Hanukkah show at school (where he is reading and ready for Kindergarten, according to his teacher). He has an assigned seat where I have to bring him in the morning so he can get his flashy golden gelt costume on. We are both very excited.

Wednesday is still the most silly and hilarious boy I've ever known. He turned three, you know, and he is most assuredly not a baby anymore. Now, if we could just get him to potty in the potty it would be glorious. He is right at the age where he is so very big, but I can still scoop him up for spontaneous snuggles without much of a fight.

Minnow is huge. He is divinely cute. Minnow is my favorite snack and just the most snuggly bug of a baby I've ever known. He is laughing, and squiggling, and charming everyone he meets. He got fussy in Barnes and Noble yesterday and caught the attention of the four or five ladies in line. I turned him toward the Giant! Yellow! Gift Wrapping! Sign! and he started laughing. He won over every single one of those women in a flash.

What else do I need to tell you? Thanksgiving was darn tootin'. Whatever that means. My food turned out better than it ever has in the past. Wednesday had two friends come and play on his birthday. They decorated enormous sugar cookies, are squash-berry muffins, and played outside until Winston came in and said, "I'm having a big problem out there, Mommy! I'm too tired to be nice anymore!".

We're spending Christmas at home; a tradition my Mama started in my own family that I appreciated then and do even more so now. A visit to my Grandmother's house and The Mr.'s Dad's house are in the works for after Christmas.

The Mr.'s Dad fell about two weeks ago and broke his leg. They expect him to be fine, but he is tired of being in the hospital and kind of down-in-the-dumps. His wife sent the most beautiful quilt for Minnow with the entire alphabet embroidered on it. His name is at the bottom, with a well placed "Z" to finish it out.

I think I'm just rambling now, but I've missed you so, little blog o'mine.

Some questions I've been pondering: What is a good way to introduce Karate to Winston before he starts once a week next year? Have any of you ever cooked turnips and LIKED them (I really want to try them this holiday season)? Does anyone have a good, Christmas-y, molded, jello salad recipe? I've always wanted to make one of those too.

Love to all of you.....