So about those birthday

My original plan for the last post was to recount some of my favorite birthday gatherings, but I simply got swept away in telling you all about what I did for this birthday. Apparently I did a lot because that was a long post. However, I had already gathered my thoughts regarding my parties of the past....and no one likes wasted thoughts, so I am delighted to offer 2 posts in the span of two days.

And in no certain order--my favorite birthday parties:

1. I really can't remember the exact number, but I think it must have been when I was in Kindergarten. I had about 8 girls and we went to a hair salon and all had our hair done. I am not talking cute child hair. I am talking va-va-voom sex kitten hair. I loved it. Afterwards we came back to my house and our mothers did our make-up and we got dressed in old prom and cocktail dresses. I thought I was the snazziest little things this side of the Mississipi. And damn it, I didn't just think it, I was. We then had a tea party, complete with cookie and juice. The party did go down hill from there thanks to Abby trying to steal my spotlight, my protest of such and some snarky comments from a party-crash (that ultimately took me about 8 years to forgive)....but I wont get into that. Now you see why I love birthdays? Mine were totally cool from the get-go.

2. In grade school my parents used to make me invite my whole grade to my birthday parties. Bonus to that concept is you have find a place big enough to house all of those houligans. IN about 3rd or 4th grade, my parents rented out the Sheridan for my party. For those of you non-SwK-ers, it is a facility with a gym/basketball courts and an indoor pool. I was the coolest kid in grade school.

For some reason I am drawing a blank for the parties occurring during my middle and high school years. Not sure why that is about middle school....but for high school I am sure there is a reason for my non-memory...mainly a red-colored liquid with a tiger on the label.

College birthdays, on the other hand, are burnt into my memory. Maybe because they were not that long ago, but I think it was because they were so fun.

3. My 21st birthday was great fun. Unlike a lot of people, I actually remember mine. I had a lot of family in town to celebrate. I know I have mentioned this before, but I have the best family. See, look:

Jessi made me a great shot book. We started out the night at the boys' house at 1000 Leavenworth. You know its going to be a good night when you say "We started out at 1000 Leavenworth..." Debbie bought me a bunch of mini liquor bottles. That Debbie, she always has the perfect gifts. We then hit up all the bars in Aggieville. I completed more than 21 of my requisite shots (sounds crazy now...) and came home, wherein I kicked Cole's door clean of the hinges because I thought he was locked in. Turns out he was just sleeping.

4. For my 22nd birthday, I hosted an 80's party. I. LOVED. THAT. PARTY. I made a cd mixer of 80s music as the invitations. Jess and I splatter painted a large piece of fabric and covered my living room furniture. We decked ourselves out in 80s garb, complete with terrible hair and awesomely bad make-up. My cousins Kalli and Katie joined in on the action and my friends from high school showed up in the most hilarious (aka hideous) old prom dresses I had ever seen. Here is one:

The party was so spectacular that an impromptu dance party/contest broke out in my living room. Yep, it was that cool.

I have had some pretty kick-ass birthdays, this year being no exception. Hmm....what should I plan for next year.....

Happy birthday to.....ME

I adore birthdays. And not just my birthday. I don't discriminate. It is equal opportunities birthdays around here. I will like yours too. But it just so happened to be mine last week and I like it best.

Overall number 26 was a pretty fantastic one. My dad and becky came up the weekend before. My dad started the trip out wonderfully by leaving his wallet and phone at home. Luckily he just got a new car and it comes with a telephone number (kids and their gadgets these days...). I can call it and be broadcast over the car speakers like voice of God. Pretty powerful stuff. Any way. Becky has never been to St Louis, so we did the tourist thing Saturday, which was fun...because even though I have lived here 3 years, I still consider myself a tourist. We rode the egg of death up to the top of the arch and back. Becky is terrified of heights. And apparently a masochist. But it was fun. For my birthday Becky took me to get new makeup. I had a 40+ year old woman with purple, green and yellow sparkly eye shadow do my eyes. It was a scary process, but I didnt care because I was being pampered. And even if it looked like I had been punched in the eye after I got finished, it was totally worth it because, like I said, I was being pampered. THEN I got to pick out new make-up (squeeeeeeeel!) and my dad and becky took us out for my birthday dinner at Mosaic....a trendy tapas restaurant. Oh. My. Lord. Delish. And super uber trendy. Pretty sure my cool points increased the moment I walked in the door. After a great weekend, I was so sad to see them leave Sunday morning. I swear, the clock moved double time that weekend. Uncool.

My actual birthday day was pretty uneventful. Well actually it was full of events, just not ones I wanted to do (i.e. finishing Rileigh's science fair project....7-year-old +glue gun = bad). But Justin redeemed the day by bringing home Chipotle. Quick word of wisdom. A burrito the size of a newborn baby makes any day the best day. Justin had already given me my present about 3 weeks prior (new video camera....holla!)

The weekend following my birthday, Abby flew in for a girls weekend. I took her to my school, ate a chili dog and made her fold my laundry. She said she is going to come back every weekend. That night we went out for sushi followed by a comedy club. Sitting at dinner, I felt a tap on my shoulder, followed by a "hey." I had a momentary panic attack trying to rack my brains as to who in the world I would actually know in St Louis. Not only know, but someone who could recognize me from behind. That was a total of no one, so I was prepared to turn around and have an awkward "i have no idea who you are" conversation and was shocked to turn around and see Jessi standing there. WTF. How did she even get here? Turns out those two concocted a plan to surprise me....which is impossible because I am Nancy Drew and I find out everything. Serious. They totally got me. So we stuffed ourselves with sushi and all headed to the comedy club. I love those things. People are so much funnier in person. The next day after a delish breakfast prepared by my loving hubs, we shopped til we dropped...and I mean that literally, not figuratively.

That evening we went to....wait for it......wait for it.....ROLLER DERBY. Yep, I am serious. It was....interesting. Jessi said that you could group the crowd into 3 categories: People who belonged in porns, People who look like they could be on Beetlejuice, and normal folks. I am hoping for the latter category, but I think the jury is still out. After roller derby, we rallied and headed to a local bar, where I realized kids these days are skank-tastic and old men are creepy. Sunday I had to drop off both at the airport. I had an amazing weekend and was bummed to see them go. Have I mentioned that I have the best family ever?

So to recap #26 entailed using the voice of God, riding in an egg , letting miss mardi gras have her way with my eyes and eating small plates of goodness--followed by unprecedented surprise, raw fish, no tabasco on cupcakes, a million miles at the mall, women on wheels and creeping people at a bar. YAHOO! it was a success! Thanks to all for making my bday so special!

The misadventures of miss addie

Sunday we busied ourselves with Super Bowl preparations. In the kitchen, I was working like a well oiled machine, whipping up some killer dishes. Justin was completing his standard floor cleaning duties. Addison sweetly asked her dad to let her go outside. Everyone knows that with one bat of Addie's lashes, Dad is putty in her hand. Our backyard is fenced and secure, so Justin bundled her up and let her roam around solo. There I was, elbows-deep (well, not really) in mozzarella, alfredo and cream cheese when it happened--Justin screams at me--

"SHE'S GOT A SQUIRREL!"

On motherly instinct, I barrel out the door, full speed, ready to fight to the death with a rabid squirrel that may or may not be clawing my toddler's eyes out. I don't stop to ponder how in the world a two-year-old blessed with my genes could be fast enough to trap a squirrel. I just charge ahead at Addison, flailing my arms and screaming "Drop the Squirrel! DROP the squirrel." Addison turns to me, wide-eyed. She has the squirrel tucked up under her arm, like a stuffed animal she might lug around the house. Upon seeing her mother come at her like a freight train, she whips the squirrel out from under her arm and chucks its lifeless body to the side. That's right, folks. My daughter was toting around a squirrel carcass.

I rush her inside. Luckily she was wearing gloves and her overstuffed coat. Justin strips her and attempts to sanitize, in case any squirrel germs somehow leaked through her layers of clothing.

The rest of the day I am checking for symptoms of the bubonic plague. When I pick her up from the sitter's yesterday, her sitter comments on how strangely she was behaving. I tell her my plague theory and we brainstorm about possible other problems that said squirrel could have transfered to my daughter. She convinces me that its all in my head and Addie is just probably tired.

Later that night, our sitter calls. "Do you think Addie might have licked the squirrel?" Oh, shit. What do I do now? I wonder what will happen when the doctor reads 'Reason for Visit: My child may or may not have licked a squirrel carcass...." Yep, thats going to go well.

so sorry to have missed you

I think I may have just forgotten how much having a schedule exhausts me. In the two weeks I was back in St Louis prior to the start of school, I did not wake up to a blaring alarm, I stayed in my PJs all day, addison and I hung out and even took naps together. It was glorious and my blogging goals were very easy to achieve. I made bread with the best of them. I exercised everyday. I spoke love languages and I discovered how to raise confident girls. And then school came and I became my regular mess. Now there are no naps and I wake up to an annoying *beep* *beep* *beep*....and when I reach over to push Justin out of bed to shut off the alarm, I sadly realize that the alarm is set for me.

So....I have been slacking. The only goal I have stuck to 100% is the bread baking. Two weekends ago I made a delish focaccia bread and a sausage roll. Justin's reaction--"why do you have to be good at everything you try?" I will take that to mean I am a baking goddess. This weekend was a coffee cake with a brown sugar/pecan crust. It was gone in a couple days. I think I could have probably eaten it in one. Better not make that again.

I am working 20/hrs a week....techically volunteering for school credit .... at an immigration law firm for the semester. It is overwhelming. Each morning my mantra is "be the sponge, be the sponge." I hope its working. I don't think I could get any better training for my future endeavor. This placement has already lead to a lot of internal conversations for me (and no, not all about sponges) and I will save them for a later post....when I am not sitting in class...trying to fake like I am paying attention. I also found out that my cousin just got an internship at DHS (the head honcho of immigration regulation). It was nice knowing her I suppose. It is now our fate to be arch enemies.

So work, school and the recent goal of house-searching (which we need to complete before April 30). Defeated my overzealous blogging goals. Forgive me?

ouch!

I am one week down on my Body for Life. Last night I said to Justin "11 more weeks to go!" and he said, "No, don't count the weeks. Its a lifetime of change." I responded by swiftly kicking him out of the bed. I kid.

This week actually went extremely well....if extremely well means I was unable to walk for half of it because I was so sore. Justin tells me that means it went well. I followed the eating plan, which means I have to eat 6 times a day, once every 2-3 hours. This sounds like a pain in the hiney, but because I have been home, it is actually fun. In the book, they give a list of proteins and a list of carbs. You pick one from each list, slap them together (with a veggie should you choose) and you have a meal! This week, I have made things like spaghetti with turkey meatballs, shrimp tacos and turkey chili. To cut down on the work, I make a regular meal, then divide it into portion-sized tupperwear containers. Makes things much easier. The only thing I have really struggled with in this area is the lack of things to keep track of. I have never done a program where I didn't have to keep track of points or calories....and to tell you the truth, its a little unnerving. You are allowed one free day each week, which I took on Sunday. I was surprised by my restraint. My only real "off" food was 2 chewy chocolate chip cookies and some tostitos in my taco salad. Oh, and how could I forget. My delish bread! I am a lame cheater!

The workouts have been more of a stretch, but I am trucking along. Workout go as follows: arms, cardio, legs, cardio, and so on and so forth. Both the weights and cardio follow and intensity scale that is killer. To prove the point, Rileigh came downstairs one morning to make sure I was okay because I was yelling....weighted lunges, can you blame me? I have been working out in the mornings. I despise mornings. However, when I read in my book that working out for 20 minutes in the morning is the same as working out for 1 hr in the evening....I decided I would stick with mornings.

I was happy with the scale progress: -1.6 this week. However, I am going to have to stop the weekly weigh-ins (another first for me!) because both Justin and the book say that with an intense weighs program, the scale might not reflect the changes accurately and instead leaving me feeling discouraged if I become so stuck on numbers. Instead Justin is going to bring home the body fat measuring-thing-a-ma-bob once every four weeks. I am scared of that.

Well, its time for me to hobble to the kitchen for another meal...ow.....ow......ow......oh man, its going to be another long week. Repeat after me, I love the pain, I love the pain.....oh, who am I kidding!

Mama Mia...

Today might not be the greatest day to blog about my children. I am fairly certain that today, if allowed, I would have sold my children to the highest bidder on eBay. Okay, that's not true. They probably wouldn't have even had to be the highest bidder. Just the first one.

This is how I always feel after leading a girl scout meeting. Trying to shepherd 19 girls into doing something semi-crafty in a limited timeframe without losing my mind makes me fully confident in the fact that those "19 kids and Counting" people are completely out of their gourds. However, the second the clock hit 8:30pm, I carted the wee ones off to bed and have been able to calm down a bit....so, I think I am good.

Anyway, Justin and I read the first 3 tips from the book "Raising Confident Girls," and have spent the last week trying to implement them every day (and usually just with Rileigh....if you give Addison a piece of chocolate, all is right in her world for at least a week...she's easy).

1. Help her to believe in herself: Here they suggested trying things like allowing your child to take on some personal responsibilities. When I read this, I knew exactly what I was going to try for the week. Rileigh wants to take showers. One problem. She treats water like boiling acid that will sear off her entire face if it even comes near it. Yep, its that bad. So we have spent countless mornings with me yelling at her to actually get her head wet and making her get back in the shower to rinse out the shampoo she has smeared everywhere, but has barely rinsed out. It can get pretty ugly. This week, I vowed to keep my temper in check and help her to learn to shower on her own in a way that prevents her from being the smelly kid in class and still allows her to do it on her own. We discovered if we hang a towel over the door of the shower and she can wipe her eyes every 5 seconds....we can get it done. I stand outside the shower and mimic what she should be doing....and so far its been a success! No yelling, no crying...no leaving the house with shampoo hair!

2. Show her you understand her. This was my favorite one to practice. One of the suggestions under this tip was to show your daughter that you value her uniqueness and tell her what you treasure about her. Rileigh is not short on uniqueness! Justin and I made a deal that for one week each of us would randomly tell Rileigh one thing everyday that we loved about her. This was a great way to really think about Rileigh and caused me to look at her with fresh eyes. I had fun coming up with particular treasures. Por ehemplo (going bilingual on you all!) Justin told her one day that he loves that she has fun with everything she does and goes into situations with a positive attitude. One day I told Rileigh that admire her because she is always willing to try new things, no matter if it involves doing something or going somewhere where she doesn't know anyone....and she always comes out of those situations making new friends. We loved telling her these things....and by the way her face lit up, I know she loved hearing them as well.

3. Approve of who she is even if you dislike what she does. This really had to do with discipline. I was thankful to have a strategy to work on this aspect. I know it is not shocking, but I am a yeller. I hate that I am a yeller, but I do it. Under this tip, it gave suggestions on how to approach situations in which you child is showing a behavior or doing something you don't approve of. One thing suggested was to remove "good" and "bad" from your vocab when talking about behavior as it could be taken as a reflection of herself, personally, rather than the behavior. Instead, they suggested talking about the particular behavior. For example--"When you yell while I am on the phone, it makes it very difficult for me to hear the other person and it not very polite." That was a lame example, but I am doing this on the fly. I kick booty on this this week. I kicked booty because it was my mission to kick booty on this. I notice a SIGNIFICANT change in the harmony of the house because of this. No fighting...just talking. And what do you know, Ri is much more perceptive to this than my yelling. Shocking, I know. In fact, I think I did better than Justin in this category this week (even though he is NOT a yeller). Maybe I will get to steal his #1 dad trophy. Yessssss!

Okay, well I need to wake up Justin so we can read the next 3 tips for the upcoming week. So far, so good. I am digging this book.

3.

No knead

So one of my missions this year was to learn to do new fun things, like baking. That was when I thought baking was fun. Today I learned that baking is hard. Armed with my trusty Bread Bible and brand new bread loaf pan, I figured I could knock out a couple of bread recipes, no problemo. I started with a basic loaf of white bread. I followed the instructions to the letter. I did try to take the short cut and use my big electric mixer. My Bible said it was okay to use, but advised making it by hand the first time so I could feel what the dough was like at each stage. Mostly I chose to use the electric mixer because I didn't have a wooden spoon and the Bible specifically said I needed to mix with a wooden spoon. I was afraid that if I used a spatula or a plastic spoon it would cause a chemical reaction and my kitchen would blow up. So I used the mixer, followed the instructions....and this is what happened.

Yep, that's half the dough in the bowl...flaky and floury...and the other half in a stiff ball.

Bread: Fail

Well, shoot. That didn't go as planned. But I trashed the dough, regrouped, bought a wooden spoon and eventually accomplished my mission. In the process here is what I learned:

1. Breadmaking is personal. The instructions are nothing more than a guide...you have to tailor them to your kitchen and your ingredients and you perception. This was the cause of the disastrous first dough. I added cups and cups of flour to match what the recipe called for....and ended up with a floury mess.

2. You really have to get a feel for the dough. The Bible really meant it when it said that its important to make your first batch of bread by hand so you can feel the dough at each stage. When I made my second batch of dough, it felt right after adding only 3/4 of the amount of flour the recipe called for, so I stopped there....and it worked just fine. That just reiterates the first point....the instructions are the guide, but the dough itself is more instructive when it comes to what needs to be added.

3. Making bread takes patience. You finish one process and think you are done, but then you have to let it rise. Then you think you are done, but you have to punch it down and shape it. Then you think you are done, but you have to let it rise again. I kept thinking, "when it is time to put the damn loaf in the oven?!?" I really should have added 'patience' to my resolution dance, oh well.

4. Bread loaves are like your babies. You made them with love...and will look at them adoringly. Even when they are ugly (although I wouldn't know how this feels because I have beautiful babies...and beautiful bread)

So now, the process.....in a picture montage:

All my equipment...prepped and ready, with such high hopes...before they were dashed by the stinking electric mixer.

Oh yeah, I forgot. Another step to wait on. Proofing the yeast. It looks gross and it smells like stale beer, but I guess thats a good thing for bread.

Kneading my dough. I liked this part. The book describes how you need to get your whole body into it. You know, show it who's boss.

My white bread after it rose for 2 hours. I had to give it a little poke to make sure it had risen. I mean, I could tell it had risen because it was much bigger than when I put it in the bowl the first time, but the Bible said give it a poke, so I gave it a poke.

My french loaves....aren't they gorgeous! Don't mind the lumpy one in the back...

My white Mountain bread. I don't know what makes it Mountain bread, but that's what it is called. Oh, and that is my new loaf pan. Its pretty too.
The test slices. With butter and honey. This is why I have to have my Body for Life "free day" on bread making day. Otherwise, I would never be able to sample the bread the way it is meant to be sampled....with loads of honey and butter.
See, Rileigh thinks its so good it is making her a little crazy.

Oh, and this one is just for fun:

Addison was helping me bake and asked me to take her picture. This is how she posed. Weirdo. See, I told you my children are beautiful.