What the H-E-double L were we thinking?!

It's getting close to nap time. I know this because the little tantrums-for-no-reason are getting closer together and longer. It's almost like contractions before birth. At first it's just a little fuss here and there, then they become closer, and before I know it she's lying on the floor kicking her feet and crying because she tripped over her big toe and fell on her bottom. She's exhausted.

She fights sleep no matter how tired she is. She is so afraid she'll miss something. I have to send Chloe out of the room, fix her a cup of milk, find her little blankie and baby doll, and start rocking.

She resists the rocking at first because she knows what it means. She always resists it, but it's the only thing that really helps her calm down.

I rock furiously as she cries and pushes and kicks, trying to wiggle away from the wretched nap she so desperately needs.

I sing to her.

Rock a bye baby. She shakes her head no.
Twinkle twinkle little star. She screams louder.
Halleluja? I could use a little higher power right now.
Colder Weather. Zac Brown Band. Works every time. You'd think I'd try it first, but somehow it just feels wrong to start with anything but Rock a bye baby.

Exhausted and mentally drained from the fight, I try not to grit my teeth while I sing, and relax so she will settle. I think of the little bun in my oven sometimes and wonder what the hell we were thinking. Wonder if I'll be nursing a newborn while performing this whole routine in six months, or if she will grow out of it.

While I'm singing and thinking and wondering if I'm headed for the Looney Bin in the next two years, she starts to drift.

I notice my rocking has slowed, almost as if my body is in tune with her. She grabs tight onto her dolly, nuzzles her face into her blankie (why do kids like to sniff blankets anyway?), then, with her eyes closed, she lets out a muffled giggle. Her face is relaxed, and she's almost smiling as she falls away.

Her body is warm against me, and with her free hand she rubs my arm until she's completely gone.

I put my feet up, pull a blanket over us, and watch tv quietly, so not to disturb her.

And suddenly I know EXACTLY what the hell we were thinking. I wouldn't trade this for the world.

Chapter 2: It's My Baby and I'll Wean When I Want To...

"...wean when I want to, WEAN when I want to! You will wean to when you want tooooooo!"

It's no secret I'm a nursing mom. I lie somewhere between a full bottle-feeder and a whip-it-out hippy mom. With this baby, though, I have found myself closer to the hippy end of the spectrum and liking it :)

When Chloe was a babe I was home with her for eleven weeks, then I returned to teaching. She went to daycare 8-4 M-F, so she was introduced to the bottle in the beginning, and though I didn't give her formula at all, she was primarily bottle fed. I nursed her at night and on weekends, but that was it. She was fully accustomed to the bottle, as she had to be, which meant she wasn't very attached to me. She also sucked her thumb, which led her to be an excellent self-soother (though brought with it a terrible addiction we still fight). At ten months she was pretty-well done nursing, and I was fine with that.

When Miss K came along, I wanted to be sure we weren't thumb-sucking again, and the Mister was adamant against the paci. So I fully nursed, and that was it. She never really took to the bottle, likely because I didn't push it. This had me tethered to her night and day, and while it was sometimes emotionally draining, it was also really great for both of us.

As she came on the six-month mark, however, the comments began pouring in. What's the worst is that they come from people I know and love who *should* be supporting my decisions, not questioning them.

When are you going to wean her?
Are you STILL nursing?
Isn't she getting too big for that?
Do you still feed her "like that?"

My easy answer? At what age would you wean from a bottle? Usually that ended the conversation. I don't know why it is anyone's business how long I nurse my infant. It would be different if she were five and I was going to the school at lunch time to nurse her. One day I told someone, when asked when I planned to wean, "Sometime between one year and when she goes to school."

I had every intention of allowing Kailyn to wean herself. She was very attached to me, and I really didn't have the heart to take away her one and only comfort item. However, as she got closer to a year, she became very demanding, making it impossible to go anywhere that I didn't mind feeding her in public. She began throwing tantrums if she couldn't nurse when *she* wanted to. Just before her birthday I learned I was pregnant again, and decided to go ahead and wean her at 13 months. It was a traumatic two-week effort for both of us, but now that she is happily drinking chocolate milk from a cup as a replacement, and using a blankie for comfort at night, there is nothing left to break her from, which feels like a huge accomplishment.

I had no interest in nursing a toddler and a new baby, and I knew weaning would be even more difficult if I waited too close to the baby's birth. Those two things alone influenced my decision. If I had not become pregnant, I very likely would have nursed her to 18-24 months or until she stopped on her own, whichever came first.

I've come to learn when you have children, you're kind of damned if you do, damned if you don't. Someone always has an issue with something you do, but in the end it's best to make your parenting decisions based on what you believe is best for your child, yourself, and your family. Now if I can calmly and rationally remember that as I go through pregnancy and infancy one more time....

Chapter 1: Please Don't Feed the Animals Baby

I wish I could remember exactly when it started, but I suppose I've tried to block it out. Somewhere along the way, though, at a definitely inappropriate age, people started offering my daughter food. I'm not talking about veggies or a bite of banana or even a piece of bread. I'm talking about down-right bad for you junk.

Sometimes it was offered to her without my permission, stopped only by me saying, "UH NO!" upon catching the offer.

Usually, though, it was offered to me first.

"Can K have this [cookie, potato chip, Mt. Dew, insert other ridiculous food here]?"

"No," I would always say. Unless it was a unique occasion in which she had just eaten a proper meal and I would allow her a bite of cookie or cracker.

And then comes one of two replies.

"Oh, a little of this won't hurt her. I gave my kids BLAH BLAH BLAH and it was fine!" Judgment. Ridicule. Scoffing. Someone somehow decides that THEIR decision to indulge her is better than my decision to say no. No matter what my reason.

Or.

"Sorry, baby! I wanted to give you this delicious [cookie, candy, chip, pop] but Mama won't let me! I would give it to you, but Mama says no!" Now belittling me TO my child, making me the bad guy (as if the moms don't get that enough), ridiculing me, second-guessing my food choices and decisions without one question as to WHY I say no. Maybe it's almost lunch time. Maybe I need to nurse. Maybe I don't want her to have sugar or caffeine at the wee age of <1 .="" p="">

We were at a family dinner once where she was eating veggies and meat and sipping her water, when she was offered (SHE was offered, as if she can make logical decisions) Kool-Aid and baby snacks. I don't let my older daughter snack DURING dinner, so why would I allow it for my baby? Were the snacks suitable? Yeah. But they were snacks. Offered during dinner. Which starts a habit. And the dialogue when they were offered? "Here, if your mom will even let you have them." Setting me up to either condone the habit, or be the jerk who says no to EVERYTHING even suitable baby snacks.

I'm often talked to as the over-protective, over-zealous, over-sensitive mom who won't allow ANYTHING and needs to just lighten up. But maybe there's more to it than me having an underlying desire to be a wench to everyone we see.

Maybe it's my child, for whom I am responsible. Maybe I had one daughter who had dental trouble, and I would rather amputate my own fingers than to see one of my children go through that kind of pain and emotion again. Maybe I am proud of the fact that my infant LOVES green beans, potatoes, chicken, and WATER. Maybe that makes my life a little easier, and makes dinner time a little more pleasant and makes future food battles MUCH less frequent. Maybe I believe that not stuffing junk food in a child's face helps them LEARN to make healthier choices. Maybe I don't want to deal with the sugar high you'll leave behind.

I don't mind when people ask to give my daughter food, but I do expect them to respect the answer they are given. She's not a zoo monkey here for your entertainment. She is a person I am trying to raise, and I think I'm doing a pretty great job.

Mind Your Own Business, Raise Your Own Kids: Intro

I've mentioned my frustration with it before. The Non-Asked-For Opinion. We are all suceptible to it, in one way or another. Usually in the form of a judgmental-ridden question, that seems inncoent enough, but is riddled with TONE.

Such as:
When are you going to get married (aka why are you still single)?
When are you going to have kids (aka you're getting awfully old)?
When are you going to have another one (aka I would never have so much time between MY children)?
Are you REALLY having another one (I would NEVER have so many children)?

It goes on and on, and gets worse when you become a parent. Suddenly everyone wants to challenge your every decision, and make you feel like you're doing it wrong. What's really weird, is it seems the more you lean toward the healthy, environmentally friendly, natural side of life, the more you are criticized. I think it's almost an attempt to judge before being judged. People think since they do things their way, someone more rigid would be judgmental, therefore they jump the gun and try to make the other person feel smaller.

That's my guess, anyway.

Lately I have had to bite my tongue ENDLESSLY.

And because my Facebook rants can only go so far, I've begun a blog series dedicated to my personal parenting style and those who disagree/disapprove, etc.

Chapters 1-4 are in the works :)

Talking "The Talk"

Sometimes I get "the look" from other moms when I divulge just how much Chloe knows about 'the birds and the bees.'

We've left all the romantic lustful graphic stuff out, other than it being related to "private time" for mommy and daddy, but as far as biology goes, she pretty much knows where babies come from.

There isn't much choice, you know, when she sees a bull mounting a cow, or a calf hanging out of its mama, or our pet pig having his way with a bucket...

It's been a topic among moms lately, so I have been considering my approach a little more in-depth. Recently a read an article that suggests we stop having "THE" talk, in favor of more open conversation throughout life, adjusting as the children mature. I liked that. It's basically what I've been doing, so maybe it was just nice to see it affirmed.

I have no "talk" to dread with Chloe. We simply weave the questions and appropriate conversations into our daily lives.

Recently, this came in handy when she was tearful as I cracked eggs into a bowl.

"Poor little chickies!" she nearly cried. I explained to her that all moms, even me, have 'blank' eggs every so often. She'd questioned the "time of the month" several months back, so we have had that talk, too. It put her mind at ease to know that we weren't murdering helpless baby chicks (most of the time hehe).

I had to laugh, though, last night, when her grown-up subject matter collided with her child-like mind. She was eating her dessert, and stopped to come into the living room and talk with me.

"Hey mom, I gotta queshtion," she said. I raised my eyebrows waiting for it.

"Do me and Kailyn drop eggs every month? Or is it just grown-ups?" I told her as soon as her body was mature enough, probably as a teen, is when that would begin.

"So THAT'S why there's such a thing as Teen Mom," she concluded.

And it gives me a little hope that she's already got a leg up on most teenage girls.

A Happier Halloween

One year ago at this very moment I was at the doctor's office. I had spent the better part of three hours in the emergency room. I was given a 50/50 chance of losing my baby. And there was nothing I could do but wait and see.

It was one of the worst days I remember. I had endured thirteen weeks of constant vomiting, emotional stress, and physical agony and the only thing getting me through it was the hope of a healthy baby. And then there I was, afraid it was all crashing down around me.

Finally they were able to do an ultrasound, and I saw my little girl moving and wiggling about. She had one arm up, and it looked like she was waving. I imagined all the times Chloe had waved at me from a merry go round or ride, smiling, as if to say "Hey, Mom! Look at me! I see you!" and I imagined that's what she was saying.

I still feared the worst, but something about seeing her moving around, as if nothing was wrong, it helped.

I was put on bed rest. I had to miss Chloe's Halloween party, and she was really sad. I rode along to trick-or-treat, but my heart just wasn't in it.

Now, a year later, I have two healthy, wonderful girls who are excited for Halloween. I'm running around like a mad woman trying to get the house work done, and get prepared for the Halloween party at school and at Girl Scouts.

Today that little bean has grown into a chunky little bundle of joy, and though she's not waving at me today, she's smiling, and I wouldn't trade that for anything!

My happy, healthy baby girl ready for her first Halloween. Hopefully she doesn't have any scare-tactics this year.

The Sharp Knife of a Short Life

When I first started blogging, I learned quickly the importance of networking. I began visiting random blogs and following comments to find writers (and possible readers) who meshed with me. About a year and a half (or so) ago, I saw Rachael's link on a Five Question Friday. I read her post, found she was new to blogging, and left her a comment to help her get started.

Over the next few months she became one of my 'bloggy friends.' I don't read a ton of blogs, and I don't follow a ton of people on Twitter. I reserve that for those that I really connect with, or the ones I interact with often. She was one of those. She always had an encouraging comment to leave me, or a sweet tweet.

I remember when she gave her recipe for pulled-pork, and though I had never considered cooking with root beer, I gave it a whirl, and it's the recipe I use to this day. One of the last times she tweeted, she said she was making it and wanted to know how many places to set. I told her to set one for me, I'd be right there (she's from the East Coast, so we knew that wasn't going to happen).

Soon she was talking about her upcoming vacation and how excited she was. She would see her mother in Florida, then head to MO to see a brother. We fancied the idea of having a chance to meet in person while she was here...though it never came to fruition.

Time passed, as it does, and being busy I didn't notice her missing at first. When Kailyn was born I was surprised not to have heard from her, but dismissed it, thinking she could still be on vacation. I looked at her blog, seeing her last post in March, and figuring she was having a dry spell (don't we all). I had already read that entry, so I didn't click on it.

Months passed and as tends to happen, she slipped from my mind. I got used to not seeing her. And out of sight soon meant out of mind.

Then the other day someone tagged her in a Facebook picture.

"THERE she is! She is still alive!" I thought to myself. Using the old cliche, and ready to go comment on the photo to ask where she'd been.

Unfortunately when I did that, I saw the caption. The tagger speaking of her as if she were gone. Talking about missing her and always being with her.

A knot formed in my throat.

I began hard-core creeping, and found that she had passed away. She never made it to Missouri. She was my age, and by some freak illness she died in her sleep while visiting her mother.

My heart was full and heavy. For someone I'd never even met.

I started thinking about all of my bloggy friends. We aren't "close," I guess, but I know what they're up to. I know how their days went. I think of them when I read certain things, or when the weather changes, or when someone mentions Canada. I didn't really realize what a structure these people were in my life, and how truly REAL they are to me.

I've been mourning this loss all week, and realizing that losing a blog friend doesn't hurt any less than losing a 'real' one must.

Goodbye, Rachael. You've been and will be dearly missed.

Munchkin Bags, Inc.

A few months back I was perusing Pintrest and saw a site where you send in your baby's clothes and keepsake items and this lady makes you a beautiful (read: expensive) quilt with the items. I decided then and there that one day I would tackle that project.

I started saving my dollars and I bought myself a spiffy little Singer sewing machine just a few weeks back. Never mind I hadn't sewn since I was a teenager and my granny was teaching me the basics. I was bound and determined to make that quilt.

I still am.

But first I need lots of practice. To start, I brought up some old clothes and scraps and just got the hang of using the machine. I sewed lines and corners. I made some little bean bags. I was just playing. All junk that I could throw away.

In the process, I used an old pair of dress pants and an orange tank top to make a little stachel. Again, just practicing putting pieces together, and how to applique. Chloe thought it was just darling, so she kept it.

Unbeknownst to me, she took it to school in her backpack. I don't care that she took it, but it's just a throw together piece of crap I was playing around with, and I don't want her telling people I made it :)

I guess she sees it differently, though, and so did her friends. This is the conversation we had yesterday.

"Mom, is it ok if I tell people you know how to sew?"
"I guess, why?"
"Sometimes you get embarrassed and don't want me to say stuff. I just wondered."
"Oh. I don't care."
Long pause....
"Can I tell people you made my bag for me?" she asked. I wanted to tell her no, but I could tell she was proud of it, so I decided to model self-confidence and say yes.
"Sure," I said.
"Oh good. Because I already did today, and I have two orders for you."
"Orders?" I asked her.
"Ya. My friend Jane wants a blue one, but it has to be big enough to tote her coloring book. And you can make Jill's just like mine, but with a pink heart," she announced.

So I may not be the world's best seamstress, but I have a six-year-old following you wouldn't believe. Now if I could get them to pay me in something other than bubble gum.... :)

I hate baseball, and I'm spunky

Happy Friday :) I have a blog in draft that is of a very somber nature. I have one in draft in mi cabeza that is a mom story. Then I log in (to work on said drafts) and upon reading the 5QF prompts, find I have good answers there as well. Maybe I'm in a bloggy mood? Either way, be prepared for a bloggy trifecta!

To get things started...5QF

1. Who wakes up in the morning with the kids, you or hubby?
I do. Not to say he isn't awake. He is usually up before we girls are. But I am the one who does the breakfasting and the dressing and the hair-pulling. I make Chloe's lunch and get her out the door, and for obvious reasons I'm the one who nurses Baby K. But none of my children have been demanding, or early risers, so I really don't mind. If we ever have a rotten little boy who wants to play outside at 6 a.m., it will be alllll on the Mister :)
2. Do you watch the World Series even if your team isn't in it?
If the Weaubleau High School baseball team made it to the World Series AND someone I know was playing, I MIGHT watch it. I hate baseball. Hate hate hate.
3. What is the best compliment you have received?
I'm sure that I've had many sweet compliments from many important people in my life. Some of the best ones come from my lil Chloe. But somehow compliments stick a little harder when they are from an unexpected source. Therefore, the following two are the ones that stick with me:

"You say out in the world you are just an average person, but I don't think the world sees you that way."

"You're painfully adorable, and spunky," someone told me. A couple years later, I quoted that person, and said, "Some things one never forgets."

To which that person replied, "One cannot forget what one is naturally."

And sometimes when I feel like a big ol' pile of crap, I think about those compliments, and it makes my day a little better to know people might think I'm adorable and beyond average.

NEVER underestimate the power of your words.  
4. Do/did you dress up to take your kids trick or treating?I only dressed up once. That was Halloween 08. It was epic.

I was "The Beast" :)5. Do you have a favorite bible verse? What is it and why?
I really don't. I don't know why. I know a lot of verses from Youth group and teaching Awanas and Sunday School, but they all have different meanings for different times of life. There isn't one certain one that is my go-to verse.

A "Cow"nundrum

I've always been a bit of a 'fraidy cat. I often ride along on the four-wheeler, but I'm usually screaming, "SLOW DOWN! I DO NOT WANT TO DIE! STOOOOOOPPPPP!!" as we whiz across a field. The other day, however, hubby needed to get his truck from the field, and we took the four wheeler.

I had no choice but to drive it back.

I've never been on the driving side, and I found it was MUCH less scary (and kind of fun) when I was driving rather than putting my life in hubby's hands. I puttered back to the house, proud of myself for a new 'farm thing' I could add to my list of things I can do.

I thought about it throughout the day, thinking I could wrap K and we could go for a ride. I could get a cow in without having to run down the hill and have a heart attack. I could take Chloe for a ride. I had options.

So a day or two later when I heard a LOUD mooooooooo outside my window, it was time to take action.

LIVE ACTION! YEYEYEYEYEYEYEYEE!

The cow was leisurely strolling down the hill, headed to the other field to where several other cows had been moved. I decided I could ever-so-quickly hop on the four wheeler, zoom past the cow, open the gate, then chase her inside.

Sissy was napping, so I could just leave her in her bed and make this quick run. Hubby and company would be so proud of me. Gone would be the days of me calling them every time a cow got out. I would soon be a respected cow-hand, all due to my new ability.

Now never-mind the times I've run cows before. Don't think about the time I couldn't get the Cummins turned around, parked it in the road, and ran a cow in while wearing my athletic shorts and rubber boots, calling her an ol' bitch as people crept past the truck I'd left in the road and no doubt had a good laugh. Never mind the time I had K wrapped and was chasing a handful of cows on foot in the sweltering heat, baby's head just a bobbin' as I ran after them. And don't count the time I chased one down the lane in my car.

No. This time would be different.

I hopped on the four wheeler and started it up (OK, it took me a few tries and a lot of button-pushing...that had been left out of the tutorial).  I knew how to put it in gear, believe it or not! I got it going and away I went! I had to ride up the highway a bit and get behind her. I almost died a couple times as I misjudged the slope of the ditch I was climbing, but I got the ol' girl headed for the lane, and chased her at a reasonable speed toward the gate.

I realized I needed to get ahead of her, so I tried to zoom past.

She cut me off.

I hit the brakes and did NOT fly face first over the handlebars. Success!

I finally got around her and got the gate open, then I headed back to chase her in.

She ran past the gate, and I then proceeded to chase her in circles for quite some time.

Finally I got her headed back toward the gate, and again she went past it, heading for the highway again.

I got past her and was sure I had her this time! All I had to do was turn around and run her in.

She looked back at me, almost with a smirk, knowing the lane was too narrow for me to get turned around without hitting the ditch.

I tried.

And I failed.

And the four wheeler rolled slowly down the embankment until the fence stopped it.

No problem. The fence wasn't damaged. Was just acting as a barrier. A much-needed barrier. All I had to do was turn the thing around and get ol' Heifer in the gate.

Reverse.

There's a little R button.

So I pushed it.

Then pushed the throttle.

Which pushed me harder into the fence.

Reverse.

I never learned how to do reverse.

So, afraid of admitting my little dilemma, I decided I'd put it in neutral and push it back up onto the road. All the while the cow stood, shaking her head at me now and then. She walked right past me and headed back toward the highway yet again. Leisurely, knowing I wasn't going to be chasing her anytime soon.

I finally threw in the towel and made the call.

"Hey babe?"
"What." He could tell by my embarrassed tone I was in a pickle, I'm sure.
"Um," (giggles) How was I going to explain this when I had NEVER taken off on the four wheeler by myself before?
"What?"
"Uh. How do you make the four wheeler go backwards?" He then explained how, which made no sense to me, and told me he would show me when he got there.
"Um. I'm down the lane. I was chasing a cow," I said, laughing. He laughed. Then he came to rescue me.

And he got the cow in.

And now I know how to put the four wheeler in reverse :)

Life: Waiting to Die

I remember standing in my friend's classroom as if it were yesterday. It plays back in my mind like a movie. She was fawning over me and my life, talking about how lucky I was. My heart sank a little. Probably pregnancy hormones (I was well-along with my first), but nevertheless I felt sad.

"Eh," I told her, "It's kinda sad, actually."

"What? How so?" she asked me.

"Well I have pretty much achieved everything I ever hoped for."

"How is that a bad thing?" she asked me, confused.

"I graduated high school, made it through college, got married, got my teaching certificate, found a great job, bought my own house, and have a baby on the way. All that's really left to do now is wait...to die, I guess..." I said. It sounded absurd to her, but it's truly how I felt.

In my senior book I had mapped out my life. In five years I wanted to be married and have at least one child. By my calculations I was already two years behind on my 'life plan.' I wanted to be a stay at home mommy with five children by the time I was 28. That was never going to happen. I was more the bread-winner, and child care for five kids would've broke us. Not to mention my husband and I were merely roommates who tolerated each other. Not much chance of another baby in that respect.

My family was done. I never wanted to "be" anything higher than a teacher, so my career was set. What was left? I had been so busy planning my life, I hadn't been living it. I was setting all these goals and time lines, so all I saw was the achievement. At age 25 I felt like I had accomplished everything I had set out for, and therefore my life lacked any further purpose.

Throughout the next couple of years I found myself feeling lost. I had no plans for my future. I often longed for the past. I missed my teen years. I missed my best friend. I missed dating and falling for boys and being independent. Nothing made sense.

And thus began the 'dark years.' I guess it only spanned about a year, but it was the time of life for me that was my "rebellion." My marriage was failing (hell it was failing from day one, but at this point it was undeniable), my mom was sick and as far as I could tell she was dying, and my baby was growing up. My job was unraveling (read The Beast posts) and life was essentially a mess. I took up with a friend who was the Louise to my Thelma. She understood where I was and where I had been, and we made the most of a bad situation (read: drank a lot of Malibu).

By the time I came out of the dark period I was going through a divorce and fed up with my job no matter what school I was at. I had found my mister (aka Soul Mate) at that point, and between him and my Louise, I had learned something tremendous.

How to live for today.

I let go of time limits and life constraints and the "how it 'should' be" and learned to enjoy each day. I learned to take life as it comess. I learned to have expectations but not limits. I decided that I didn't have to have a complete family by the time I was 28. Ten years isn't too much between two people who get each other and are in love. Thirty isn't too old to make babies. Teaching isn't the ONLY thing I can do well. Step parents CAN be great and make a family complete. Life DOES go on.

And now? I have two children, and am entertaining the idea of more.

I'm a stay at home mommy with a college education and a husband who still makes my heart flutter.

I look back at that senior book and see that I got where I wanted to go, I just took the long way there.

And THAT is ok.

Because life isn't ever what you expect it to be. But if you get it figured out, it might just turn out to be even better than you imagined.

Now I am not waiting to die. I have too much living to do :)

Man Purse...my first recipe

I'm not the next Food Network Star, nor am I a photographer (most certainly not a food photographer), but every once in a while I come up with something my family loves that is easy and delicious. I would like to present to you...the Man Purse. A neat little pouch filled with manly man meat and potatoes with a few veggies tucked inside. The best thing about it is that you can customize it to fit your family's taste. Here's what you need to feed a family of four:

• 1lb hamburger
• 3/4 c hash browns (the diced kind, not the shreds)
• 1 small green pepper (I use half of a large one)
• 1 small onion (whatever variety you prefer)
• 1 can of crescent rolls
• 1 c shredded cheese
• a little (or a lot of) butter, salt and pepper



Season the hamburger with a little salt and pepper, or whatever you like. I brown/saute everything using two pans. One for the potatoes and pepper, and one for the beef and onion. I have made it all in one large pan before, or you could saute the veggies separate, I just like the flavor better if it is cooked together.

I fry my potatoes/peppers in about a Tbsp. of butter. Then I add a little more when they are fully cooked. Obviously a little oil would do if you're a health nut...but I love BUTTER!

A pound of meat is a lot. If your family is more veggie oriented, you could easily cut the meat in half and add more veggies or potatoes. My mister likes meat, so I always use a full pound. It makes more than enough.

If I have extra time I will put all the cooked ingredients together and let them marry flavors a while longer. When everything is browned and tender, I put in about a cup (or so...) of shredded cheese. We use Cheddar Jack. Give it a good stir to mix and melt the cheese, and you're ready to fill the dough.



I use my cookie dough scoop and generously pile the filling onto each of eight crescents. This is where that cheese comes in handy (not to mention tasty!); it really is the glue that keeps everything together.





Once my crescents are filled, I wrap them up into neat little pouches (or "purses" or "satchels" if you prefer) and pop them in a 375 oven for about ten minutes, or until the rolls are golden brown.

 Take them out, and voila! You have meat, veggies, and bread, all in a neat little package. A manly meal tucked in a cute little pouch.

Recipe

1lb hamburger

3/4 c hash browns (the diced kind, not the shreds)

1 small green pepper (I use half of a large one)

1 small onion (whatever variety you prefer)

1 can of crescent rolls

1 c shredded cheese

a little (or a lot of) butter, salt and pepper

Heat oven to 375

Season and brown meat & potatoes, saute veggies in butter

Mix all ingredients and add cheese

Spoon onto rolls

Fold up edges

Bake for 10 mins @ 375





Umbrella Drinks > Big Brother > Books

It's hot. If you were not aware of that, I wanted to tell you. I wouldn't have known if 753,000 of my  friends hadn't said so on Facebook :) It's out of the bag now, isn't it?! Rather than risk skin cancer or heat stroke, I'm sitting in my house blogging. Pantsless perhaps :) It IS Friday after all.

Which leads me to Five Questions.

1. What's your favorite childhood snack that you still eat as an adult?
Oooh that's a hard one. Probably Oreos. I still eat those really consistently (naughty mama). Every now and then I have to sneak one of Chloe's Fruit Roll-Ups for a sweet treat and a little nostalgia. Mm those remind me of the good ol' days!

2. What food will you not eat the low fat version of?
Oh let's see, just about ALL food, haha. I like whole milk, full-fat butter, Oreos (as I said), regular cheese, the list goes on and on... I do eat LITE Italian dressing if that counts? I quit fried food, so I feel justified in eating full fat.

3. What's your favorite way to cool off during the summer?
My FAVORITE way would be with an umbrella drink on the Gulf Shore (sans Debby, please). However, that's not a daily option. This summer the ONLY way is to just stay in my 68 degree living room with my little bundle of joy. When I'm not in newborn-mommy-mode, I like to float in the lake, in a pool, anywhere really, and that umbrella drink doesn't hurt, either :)

4. What's your favorite summer read?
I don't read much. Once in a while I will get wild, go to the library, and go on a reading spree, but usually I stick to my shows. What's my favorite summer SHOW you ask? Why, Big Brother, of course! It starts in just less than TWO WEEKS and I'm just a *tad* excited!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

5. What are you doing to stay cool in this awful heat?
As I said earlier (what's with the repetitive information here? Am I off my game?), I stay in. My hubby and father-in-law worked on my ac in my car to keep it nice and cool. I close my eyes when we pay the electric bill and keep the temperature in the house between 68 and 71. And I drink a LOT of iced tea. A. Lot. I also forego my boots for flip flops.

I wish I were sipping umbrella drinks. Have I mentioned that? Cue Garth Brooks please...

"..BRING! ME! TWOOOOOOOOOO pina coladas, I want ONE for each haaaaaand! Let's set sail with Captain Morgan, where we'll NEEEVER reach dry land......"

My Mister Wonderful

I've crowed about my sweet hubby in many posts. You might re-visit some of the better ones (The Plan, A Note of Love, Why I Love Him, Good Girl-Dad) if you want the full picture, but today, on Father's Day, I am entering my Mister in the Mr. Wonderful Contest. CLICK HERE to vote for him!

From the outside, I'm sure a lot of people judge us. I've been a legal drinker longer than my husband has been driving. I grew up in town and took the academic track to an English degree and teaching, while he wants nothing more than to be a farmer. We don't necessarily "look" the part.

The first time we talked one-on-one, though, there was a connection. Not a chemistry like you have on a first date, or an infatuation that you develop for a boy you're fond of, but a personal connection. It felt like we already knew each other. We talked from the very beginning about feeling "meant to be," and I still believe we are.

We never 'had it easy' from the beginning. We dealt with parents who were skeptical, the left-over drama from my divorce, the on-going drama that comes with sharing a child, and judgments from outsiders. And that was just the first few months.

We moved in together before we'd even been together a year, which brought more doubt from others, but brought us even closer. Since the very beginning he's been my rock. He knows me better than anyone. He knows when to let me be, and he knows when to be tough with me. Sometimes he makes me mad because he won't let me pout or cry or fuss, but in the end I always realize he was reigning me in before I spiraled out of emotional control.

Being a young guy doesn't make it easy to jump into a family, but he did. He has supported me emotionally, mentally, physically, financially, and in any other way you could imagine. He has parented a daughter he never asked for, and shown love to her that most guys wouldn't be capable of.

Even as I type this, she is sitting next to me, chatting INCESSANTLY and asking me ridiculous questions such as, "What's your least favorite color? Did you have a candy bar earlier? What does this Cheez-It look like to you?" Amid her questions she asked what I was writing. When I explained it,
she said, "Oh you have to add that he gave me a big hug this morning."

All that was enough for him to be Mister Wonderful in my eyes.

But then Baby K came along and gave me even more reasons to love this man.

He often works 12 or 15 hours in the hay field, sometimes seven days a week. When he comes home I fix him a plate, he scarfs down his dinner, washes his hands, and grabs hold of his baby girl. He talks to her like she is a person. He spends time with her every day. He doesn't leave in the morning or go to bed at night without loving on her (and me) and paying us some attention. He works his (super cute) butt off to provide for us. He goes to the store with me. He takes us out to eat. He supports all three of us emotionally, and makes all of us feel like we are, in one way or another, HIS girl.

This Father's Day I'm particularly thankful for my Mister, the most wonderful Mister Wonderful there is :)

Don't forget to go vote for my Mister. Click HERE. Find my link at the bottom of the post (Andrea @ A Broken Road), and click "like." Simple as that!

A Good Girl-Dad

My hubby is kind of the strong silent type.

Fits of laughter?

Ok if you know him WELL, you know he's pretty ornery, but his 'public persona' is more of a quiet, shy type. While he's loving and sweet with me one-on-one, he's not really one to show emotion. People who don't read my blog and see us out together probably don't think we have any kind of spark at all. There's a lot of banter, picking, joking, and FLICKING things at each-other me. He's really emotionally reserved.

He was also very vocally hoping for a boy.

So I wasn't sure what kind of a dad he would be to our little baby girl. I knew he would be a good father, but what kind? Would he be one of those dads who aren't too plugged-in during the baby days? Would they have a respect for each other, but not a gushy "daddy's girl" type of love? Would he encourage her in sports and farming, but not the 'girly' parts of life? The jury is still somewhat out, but I've learned a lot about him the past few weeks.

During my pregnancy he was all about the "wait and see." When the time came for bebe to arrive, that's when the questions started coming. About what would happen when she came out, where would she go, what would they do, how long would it take, etc.

Within the approximately 30 minutes that I was semi-comfortable with the epidural, I tried to give him a good idea about what was about to happen. Somewhere in the answering and discussing I must have mentioned him holding her. All I remember was his response.

"Honestly, I don't think I want to hold her until this is all over with and everyone leaves," he said, referring to the nursing staff and my doctor. I didn't ask him why, and it didn't bother me, it just stuck with me.

Fast forward a few minutes. Bebe had arrived, Hubbs had cut the cord, and the nurses had taken her over to the little baby thingy to clean her off, weigh her, and wrap her up (and whatever else they do over there). The nurse asked if we had a camera. In all the crazy rush we had forgotten about taking pictures! Hubby grabbed it and went over to take some pictures.

Between my constant questions to my doctor about WHAT exactly she was doing and was it going to hurt as she was finishing up my delivery, I glanced across the room at my sweet screaming bundle of joy. I watched as the nurse wrapped her in the blanket, and anticipated her speedy arrival in my arms.

As I watched, the nurse pushed Kailyn toward her daddy and asked if he wanted to hold her. There wasn't a moment's hesitation. He stuffed the camera in his pocket and took hold of her. All smiles and awe, he snuggled her close and inspected her little face. He kept her until my doctor was finished, then brought her to me and sat on the bed as we both admired our new addition.

By the next day he was changing diapers. Not often, but doing it nonetheless ;)

He spent a week catering to our every need, taking us to appointments and obligations. Keeping the house up. And holding that baby.

Every night when he gets home he cleans up quickly and gets a hold of his girl as quickly as he can. He drags her little sleeper over by his chair, and if she's not in his arms, she's right beside him. In the mornings he never gets out of bed until he's snuggled with her, and he never leaves her sight without a kiss and some lovin'.

For a guy who was hell-bent on having a boy, he's sure turned out to be a pretty great girl-dad :)