Breakfast for the non-morning person

I am not a morning person. I never have been. I’m starting to think I never will be. I’ve tried. Really. Ian and I have been off and on getting up before 6am since we got married over 6 1/2 years ago. Before that I was getting up at 6am too. But mornings still hit me with a punch in the face. Like…instead of “good morning,” it’s BAM! Here’s to another foggy morning of trying to figure out where all that energy that kept me up the night before went.

This is especially true the last few weeks. Jack, now seven months old, is teething hard! He has been waking me up four to five times. So instead of waking up with Ian when his alarm goes off, I roll over and pretend I’ll have more energy in an hour or so.

This means Ian’s on his own for breakfast. And that means Ian will be having cereal. And that means lots of cereal to fill my big guy.  I like him (and so does he, although he’d never complain) to have something more. So enter “Make Ahead One Skillet Breakfast Burritos.”

There’s no real “recipe” here, but I’ve developed a system of making these that only requires one skillet and little mess.

To make them you will need:

8 – flour burritos

1 dozen eggs

15 oz frozen hash browns

1/2 pound of sausage

Any veggies you’d like to add (I’ve done onions, peppers, spinach, kale, etc.)

Butter, salt, pepper

Grab your 10 inch skillet. The best part about this breakfast is it all can be made in this one skillet. Start heating it over medium heat.

Next, lay out the 8 tortillas on the table.

Now that your pan is warm, add 1/2 pound of sausage. I have used pork or turkey breakfast sausage. Either works. Cook until mostly browned, toward the end of the cooking add diced onion (and peppers, if using). If using pork sausage, drain on a plate with a paper towel. Turkey sausage does not need to be drained and can be put directly on the tortillas.

Once sausage is removed from pan, add frozen hash browns and salt. Instead of adding oil to the pan to cook these, I use the drippings from the sausage. I have used frozen hashbrowns or if I don’t have those on hand, I have also grated russet potatoes. Once browned put the potatoes onto the tortillas.

Now, melt a tablespoon or two of butter into the skillet, then crack the eggs right into the skillet, no need to put into a bowl (less dishes, always a plus in my world). Whisk the eggs as they are cooking over medium low heat. Add salt and pepper. if you’re adding spinach or kale, add chopped toward the end of the egg cooking (I didn’t have any on hand this time around) Once cooked, put over top of the other ingredients on the tortillas.

The last ingredient to add is cheese. I have used many different kinds. Whatever you have on hand.

 

The final step is to fold up the tortillas and wrap them individually in plastic wrap. Then you can freeze them and thaw in the microwave for a yummy breakfast.

 

When I’m not Enough

She was having a melt down and frankly so was I. Mine looked a bit different then her’s. But in the end, we both had tears and both were frustrated. My little two-year-old, soon to be three, I felt as though I had failed her once again. Why couldn’t I hold it together for her? She’s the one in the “terrible twos,” not me. Sometimes though I feel as though I’m just as volatile, unreasonable and well…ridiculous.

Sometimes I feel as though I’m not enough for her. Not strong enough, not firm enough, not patient enough, not loving enough. She needs me to be her rock, her solid one in the midst of this crazy unpredictable world. But I’m not. I’m struggling with anxiety and depression. Struggling with selfishness and exhaustion. Instead of a rock, I feel more like a jello jiggler.

But you know what? Where I am weak, God is strong. He is the better parent to this beautiful gift from Him. He knew when He gave Bridget to me that we would both struggle. That we would cry and cry again. He also knew that when I hold her in my arms, there is healing. She can feel safe and I can feel comfort.

God gave Bridget me as her mom and He gave her as my daughter. A match made in heaven. Where I fail, it gives me the chance to lean harder on Him and point Bridget to the one who will never let either of us down. He will be her rock, He will be strong, firm, patient and loving. I will fail, but God won’t and in these hard, long days, that is where my hope is.

 

Loving with Actions

No one said this job was easy. Someone recently asked me what it was like having three little ones. After a moments thought, I relied, “Even on the good days, I am exhausted by the end.”

The boys at 6:30am…way too early for this night owl momma! 

When I go out with the three of them, I often see looks of pity, understanding smiles and nods. I get “you’ve got your hands full,” more times then I can count. Sometimes, I wish I could jump outside myself to see what I look like, especially when I’m grocery shopping. I’ve got Jack in the carrier, Bridget in the cart, Seth jumping and spinning around me, a grocery list in one hand and grabbing things with the other. Seth chatters, asking for this and that, Bridget (at this point) whines and Jack drools, soaking my shirt as we make a whirl wind trip through the store.

I’ve discovered something though. When someone steps outside of the knowing smiles and kind words and actually acts on their pity (and it’s okay to pity me…really), it can turn that moment around. I’ve had two experiences lately where someone did something to love me and my kids in a way that really made a difference.

Bridget, so sweet and so VERY two right now

Since I mentioned grocery stores, I’ll start with this. Today looking my hot mess in the grocery store and bagging my huge amount of food (two birthdays, one party, a breakfast meeting and baby shower all this week, not to mention it seems like the people in my family want to eat every day…like more than once…??). Jack was over this trip, Seth a bundle of wiggles and Bridget was tired from her early wake-up and as I was reaching into my cart and trying to maintain the momma bounce and sway to keep Jack from completely losing it, a woman walked up and said, “here let me help you.” She encouraged me as we bagged the rest. Taking just a few moments to give another mom a extra pair of hands that often seem in high demand and low supply (I have found that my hands have not increase at the same rate my kids and their needs…go figure).

Then there was this weekend. I had the kids at an event for the children of Air National Guard Members and it was HOT. The rest of the North American populations may be excited about pumpkin spice, but we’re still roasting in summer here. We were standing outside in the blazing sun to watch the “opening ceremonies.” Well, it was all getting off to a little of a late start, like 30 minutes late… and Seth and Bridget had had it. They both decided that the dried grass clippings were the thing to occupy them. And they both decided that the each needed ALL the grass clippings. No sharing going on here (insert eye roll). Jack was in the wrap and getting tired of being hot and contained, so as I bounced him to get him to settle I also tried to conduct peace talks between two independent nations who were about to launch a grass at one other just as our national anthem was beginning to be sung. Then she stepped in. She looked at me and said “I’ve got this” and handed each kid a Dr Seuss stuffed toy, looking much like a Dr Seuss character herself, with her blue tu tu and a silly head band. She then took each one by the hand and kept them through the ceremony. Throughout the day, this volunteer kept popping in and helping this out numbed and over-heated momma and that night as I put them to bed Seth and Bridget slept with their new toy and I remember the women who saw a mom in need and helped.

This is a photo of a Polaroid photo (they have those again!!) of my Dr Seuss friend and happy kids ❤ 

These are not the only times when someone jumped in to helped. They inconvenienced themselves for just a bit, in a small way and it encouraged me more than I can say.

My conclusion for you readers, if you’ve been there, done that with kids, then reach out and help one who is in the middle of it now. If you know her well, bring her a coffee in the middle of afternoon as a quick surprise, baby sit her kids so she can have a night/afternoon off, text her: “do you need anything?” If you see a young mom and it looks like she’s in over her head, she probably is…help her if you can. Bag those groceries, talk with the kids, carry something for her. Let her know, in a tangible way, that she is not alone and she has people who value what she is doing and are willing to take some time (however little) out of their day to help her.

John said it best in 1 John 3:18 “Dear children, let’s not merely say that we love each other; let us show the truth by our actions.”

Bumpers and Bowling Balls

One thing I learned is that bowling balls are heavy. And when they hit you it hurts. And when they keep hitting you, you get tired, busied and annoyed.

Keep hitting you? Why would a  bowling ball keep hitting you? Well, if you’re a bumper and this very heavy ball has not learned to stay in its lane, then you keep getting it. Over and over.

Why am I talking about bowling balls and bumpers? Hang with me, it makes sense. I was listening to a podcast by Dr. Meg Meeker and she mentioned that as parents we are the bumpers and our kids that balls. We set the boundaries and keep our kids in the right path. As they roll along, they try to go outside the lane and our job is to be there and guide them back in.

 

This word picture really made sense to me. I loved the visual that it created. I am not there to make my kids go right down the center lane. I am not there pick the speed or force that their ball rolls. But I am there to make sure they don’t end up in the gutter. Have you ever watched a kid bowl with a bumper? They thrown that ball and it starts its way down the lane. It bounces off one gutter guard, then over to the other, then maybe back again. Finally it reaches the end of the lane it knocks over a few pins.

As the bumpers in this word picture, we can get pretty bumped and bruised. As parents, we get hit, “No, it’s time for bed.” And bumped, “Please stop yelling at your brother.” And walloped, “Sit down while eating dinner.” And smashed, “You’re brother’s sleeping, stop jumping.” And sometimes, you just are tired of the fight.

 

I’m tired. I’m sore. And I want to let the bumpers down. What does a mom do when she doesn’t want to be a gutter guard? You hear things like “get some ‘me time.'” or “press into the Lord, He’s your strength.” A common one now is “put on your oxygen mask.” (another word picture for another day, perhaps.) All of these seem like so much, too much.

So I breathe. I sit here and write. I don’t have answers. I don’t have three steps to recharging or healing those dents those heavy little balls make. I’m taking it one step at a time. Trying to show love, instead of anger when I get another bump. Trying to do better today, then yesterday. Better now, then this morning. Better this moment, then last.

These are precious little bowling balls. I want them to hit those pins. So I’ll keep up the bumpers and remember with practice one day the bumpers will go down and these balls will fly down the lane and hit those pins all by themselves.

 

Check Marks on a Bucket List

Summer Bucket lists. In theory, a great way to do fun things in the summer. My reality, a check list that I feel has to be done before the first leaf begins to turn golden yellow. I love summer bucket lists. I hate summer bucket lists.

This year, we wrote up a list and its sat in our laundry room. Untouched, not getting done. Don’t get me wrong, we’ve done fun things this summer. Just not ones we put on our list. Last weekend, I told Ian I wanted to erase that whole list. “It’s stressing me out,” I said. A check list that does not have any checks on it equals FAILURE to me! Well, this past weekend could be called “Bucket List Weekend.” We knocked out three of our goals for the summer!

The first goal was to go to Hanging Rock State Park. Back in MA swimming in lakes is just what you do in the summer. Where we lived in the Berkshires there is a lake in almost every town. Here, lake swimming is just not a thing. So we were thrilled to find out that you can swim at Hanging Rock. It was a beautiful little lake with hiking trails surrounding it. Score: two of our favorite summer activities in one place. We went on a short “hike” before hitting the water. Hiking with little kids is a bit of a stretch in the use of the word. It was more like walking down the trail, hoping they don’t fall and consistently telling them to slow down or speed up. But nevertheless, with realistic expectations, it can be fun and we usually enjoy it.

Another item that has been on our Bucket List for the past two summers was to take the kids to a drive-in movie. We did it once before and really enjoyed it. It’s a bit like stepping back into a time that I only know from old Disney movies (ever seen That Darn Cat??). Well, this year the movies showing and the times we could go just weren’t lining up. I had given it up as a goal that would remain unchecked for this year. But Friday while driving up to Hanging Rock, we happened to look and see what was playing and it was one that was kid friendly. So on a whim, without anything packed for such an outing we took the kids to the drive-in movie in Eden NC. Drive-in movies with kids are fun…if you keep your sense of humor. It may sound like a crazy idea. I mean the movie doesn’t even start until about an hour past their bedtime, but keep the snacks coming and the bug spray on and then once the movie starts you can just curl up in the back of your mini-van and enjoy the show. Sort-of…Bridget had about a thousand questions…and Seth was cold (or was it hot? or maybe both??). But it’s memory making and ultimately it was a good time.

The last bucket list check mark I was able to put on was “Make Ice Cream.” We had an ice cream party with our community group and provided homemade vanilla ice cream to go with all the delicious toppings that folks brought. Which was a sweet way to end the summer weekend.

 

Technically there is only one weekend left in summer…how can this be?!? And we’ve still got more than a few items on our list, but hey, no worries. Maybe it’ll be more of a summer/fall bucket list…or maybe we’ll just have a rolling bucket list of fun things to do as a family. Things are more work with three little ones in tow…that’s for sure. But we’re making memories, and even when we do crazy things like drive an hour to swim in a lake, keep them up until 11pm and give them two bowls of ice cream in the middle of the afternoon, these are the memories that make family days special. These are the days that mean so much. It’s not the check marks on a white board (although that makes me happy too…I cannot tell a lie), it’s when we’re doing things together. This little family that God has put together. (PS As this picture shows…we are not a perfect family…Bridget won’t look at the camera, Seth is wearing a neck-tie from my sister’s wedding from 2 1/2 years ago…we’re real, no filter here…)

 

 

 

A “simple” Wish

I was a mother of one. This wish was maybe even breathed before my oldest, Seth, was born. I thought it would be a simple formula of putting in the right parts and wal-la…my wish would come try. I wouldn’t need a fairy god-mother or magic genie. I wouldn’t need a huge strategy.  Not for this wish.

I didn’t want to be a miserable mom.

Sounded easy. Sounded straightforward. Sounded like something that since I wished it, could and would happen.

Think again, oh sweet young mom. This wish has become one of the hardest wishes of mine to come true. I have fought against feelings of resentment, periods of darkness, depression, anger, fear and sadness. I’ve read the books and blogs, listened to the podcast, gone to the classes. I’ve tried more “me-time,” more planned activities with the kids (Pinterest anyone?), exercise, date nights… and all those are good. But when you ask me, I would say I struggle with feeling trapped, struggle with anger, struggle with feeling like I just don’t do this “mom thing” well and honestly struggle with even wanting to do this “mom thing.”

Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids. I know that they are gifts and am so blessed that I get to be the mom of three little balls of fire (have you heard of a strong willed child…yup I got ’em). Maybe because I love them so much, I find this so hard. I want to do well, I want to enjoy them. But often instead, I’m counting down the hours until “daddy gets home.”

For those of you you read my blog before, you know this is nothing new. The title of the blog kind of gives you a clue. I feel as though I am completely ill suited for such a task as this. Who gives three beautiful kids to a selfish, prone to depression, and moody thirty-something?? Well, God does. I have seen myself more clearly since becoming a mom. Sometimes it’s not a pretty reflection (and I’m not only talking about the “mom bun” so often piled on my head).

But my wish still rings true! I still want to be the mom I need to be for my kids. I still don’t want to be miserable. I want people, foremost my husband and kids, to know me as kind, patient, and loving. How I get there, I am finding, is more of a journey.

 

 

Snow Boots and God’s Will

No snow yet…but it’s a-comin’

Sometimes, someone steps in, without knowing it, and says just the right thing at the right time. Words you needed to hear right then: to encourage, motivate, give you  little hope.

This was not one of those times.

North Carolina is preparing for a storm. A snow storm. We don’t get those too often here, so it kinda sends everyone in a tizzy. Milk and bread really do fly off the shelves and all events are canceled. The state pretty much shuts down.

As the forecast for this epic event seemed to be more substantiated, Seth and I began to talk about all the fun he would have playing in the snow. Would he build a snow man, make a snow angle, try out sledding? Then I looked at his feet. Sneakers. He was wearing sneakers. Not a problem right now since the ground was bone dry, but if all this white fluffy stuff was really going to come, he was going to need something else. I quickly thought through his shoe arsenal. Those sneakers, flip flops, two pairs of sandals, Croc knock-offs, slippers,  and dress shoes. None of those would work for a snowy day.

So, as much as I hated to go out and shop, I swallowed my fear and braved the battle field of stores with the kids in tow. Each store I went into (three different ones to be exact) I could hear others ask the same question: Do you have any boys’ winter boots? The answer: No.

Seth was heart broken. He NEEDED winter boots. The last store I went into had “fire fighter boots.” Not snow boots, but maybe I could convince him these would work (they’d be better then his sneakers, for sure). He was not buying it. My best sales pitch did not make a believer of him. As I tried to reason with him (sometimes I really do wonder why I try to reason with a three-year-old?!?), I could hear another woman on the phone talking about boots too. “These should work, they’re not snow boots, but they are better then nothing, and I think they’re not too girly…” I tuned out of her conversation as I came back into my own world of a distraught little boy and rapidly melting down one-year old.

“Seth,” I finally said, “these are what we are getting. They are all they have, let’s go. We going home to have a snack.” The finality in my tone must have caught on, because although he was not happy, he came (or maybe it was the promise of snack?).

After paying at the front, I was trying to move Seth out of the way for the next customer.

“Don’t hurry,” she said, it was the woman who had been on the phone, “my daughter’s in the same boat as you. She’s got three little ones and they needed boots.” Yes, I was not alone in this boat. Then she added, “I told her to stay home and I would find them for her.”

Sigh. As a juggled Bridget, my purse and bags from Walmart and tried to herd Seth with his new boots, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for myself. I tried to imagine what it would have been like to have my mom say, “I’ve got this, you keep the kids and I bring you the boots you need.” This well-meaning Grandma, had no idea what meaning her words had.

Sometime I wonder why God has called  us to live in a place where we don’t have family. Why do I have to do so much on my own? Why can’t grandma just pop over so I can get my hair cut or go to the doctor by myself?

But although I don’t understand, I know this is where we are suppose to be. God is teaching Ian and I something (or should I say somethingS) while we are here. I would be lying if I said I don’t sometimes (like today) really resent it. But I know that God is a loving Father and He has the best planned for us, so I’m going to have to trust in that.

And besides, Seth has decided he LOVES his new boots, so it’s not all that bad 🙂

A Not-so-Christmas Letter

I love Christmas Lights. On my birthday we drove an hour to the “Festival of Lights” (a drive-thru light show). Last night we drove to walk thru a neighborhood that is one of those that seems like it could come from a Hallmark Christmas special. As a teenager, I strung lights around the boarder of my room at Christmas time, then I’m pretty sure left them up all year.

At “Festival of Lights” 

Bridget was excited about the lights too

There is just something magical about Christmas lights. There is something safe and warm and happy in them. Streets that seemed dark and unfriendly before, once lights begin to appear in the beginning of December (or even before Thanksgiving), no longer seem so cold.

I think Seth likes Christmas as much as I do…or maybe just all the extra treats! 

This year “light” has had even more meaning to me.

I struggled this year with writing a “Christmas Letter” to go with our Christmas cards. I really wanted to. I promised myself I last year that I would do it. Well, I broke that promise.

As I sat trying to write the letter, the thoughts that  came to my mind did not seem to belong in a Christmas card. Usually letters like that are full of year highlights, fun times and things we are proud of. Well, this year for me has been more about difficult dark days and a time a growing in ways I never thought I would. It just didn’t seem like someone would want to read: “This year was really hard. I hope we never have to have another one like it. Merry Christmas and hears to a better New Year.”

What does a not wanting to write a Christmas letter have to do with light? You may be thinking I got distracted and started another blog post (have faith, this did not happen, although I will not promise that it never will, you never know what might happen with this distracted mamma). Here’s what light and Christmas letters have in common for me.

This spring I was diagnosed with postpartum depression. I felt like I was not myself. I felt out of control, overwhelmed, sad, angry, tired, and can remember saying to Ian, “I feel like I’m in a dark place.”

It was a very dark place. Unlike any other I’ve ever been. These past eight months or so have been a struggle as I work through all that comes with this reality. But recently, I feel God has been reminding me of His power and faithfulness. In John 1:5, John proclaims, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” That is God’s promise to all of us. Jesus Christ came and defeated darkness. Darkness will not overcome. Darkness will not win. Light will triumph. Light will shine and defeat the darkness that seems to be closing in.

This year, it was struggle of light and darkness for our family (especially for me). At points darkness seemed to be winning, but Light will ultimately win. I can trust in this promise. It’s not material for a Christmas letter. There is nothing about trips, promotions, births or other news like that, but it’s the reality I live in right now. And in a way, it has everything to do with Christmas. Christmas is about lights. The true and best LIGHT came long ago and defeated darkness. Now even though darkness sometimes feels close, we can know that it will not overcome. Light will win and shine.  This is “joy to the world.”

 

 

 

Mumie’s Caramel Cake

There is nothing like holiday memories. They are some of my earliest and fondest. This past October my Mumie (Grandma) passed away. With Thanksgiving just around the corner I can’t help but think about her.

Thanksgiving and Mumie go together in my memories. For many years, we would travel to her house and enjoy a holiday that could have been in a child’s book. Cool South Carolina fall days, walks to the pond, cozy warm house and a delicious meal. Mumie went all out for Thanksgiving. Before Pinterest and Food Network, my Grandma could put a meal on the table that would leave everyone with full tummies and happy hearts.

I am not making a Thanksgiving meal this year, but in honor of Mumie I made one of her signature cakes. Caramel Cake. Over-the-top sweetness and yumminess! This cake is full of butter, sugar and more butter and more sugar. It’s southern baking at it’s best. For some a glass of milk is a necessary companion. For me, I enjoy all the goodness with a cup of coffee.

Icing it can be tricky because the it has to be done quickly while the icing is still warm. But don’t let this scare you, even if it does not look picture perfect, your taste buds won’t mind. No matter what it looks like, they will thank you, I can assure you.

1 cup sour cream

¼ cup milk

1 cup butter, softened

2 cups sugar

4 eggs

2 ¾ cup flour

2 tsp baking powder

½ tsp salt

1 tsp vanilla

Combine sour cream and milk; set aside. Cream butter, gradually add sugar, beating well. Add eggs, one at a time; beating well after each. Combine flour, baking powder and salt; add to creamed mixture alternately with sour cream mixture, beginning and ending with flour mixture. Stir in vanilla. Pour batter into 2 greased and floured 9-in round cake pans. Bake at 350 for 30-35 minutes. Cool 10 min. (If doing 4 layers, freeze cakes first and make 1 ½ batches of icing.)

Frosting

1 stick butter

6 tbsp heavy cream

¾ cup brown sugar

16 oz powdered sugar

1 tsp vanilla

Melt butter-add cream and brown sugar – boil 1 minutes – remove from heat – add about ½ box conf. sugar beating well – add vanilla – continue adding sugar until frosting is thick enough to spread.

Dreams for a Daughter

Admission: I am a recovering addict. Yes, me.

For years now I have been obsessed about how I look, how much I weigh, what I eat, how often I exercise. All of these idols in my life have been centered around what I allowed the world to tell me what the perfect way a woman should look. Even when I was pregnant, I focused on controlling my weight gain and was excited after the birth of the children to get “back to normal.”

Well, I have come to the realization that I will never look like someone who belongs on workout DVD or magazine. My flat stomach has settled into a nice bump after pregnancy number two (my abs slit and although I have worked on repairing them and made some improvement, they will never be the same). I weigh more now than I did right after Bridget was born and have to work a bit harder to fit into some of my clothes. But, I have the body that God made me with and I am working on being content with that.

This process of admitting my obsessed starting when I began to think about my nieces and daughter. A little girl  sees herself and smiles. She thinks she is pretty, look like a princess and are not worried  what the world is currently defining as “cute.” I looked at these precious girls and had a sting of sadness as I thought about when the first time they would look at themselves and think “I don’t measure up.” When would this happen? Could I just keep Bridget seeing her true beauty her whole life? Could I instill in her contentment that is so lacking in girls today? Could she always have a carefree innocence and hold onto the truth that she is God’s creation, made in His imagine?

I knew that this may be too lofty of a goal. I am sure Bridget will suffer from bad hair days, “nothing to wear” and the like. However, I want her to have the best chance at not feeling the pressure to measure up to a standard that is ridiculous. I don’t want her to focus on her appearance as much as her character. These are my dreams for Bridget.

 

But I knew if this is my desire for her, I would have to first live it out. How could I tell her to not obsess and worry, if she saw me doing this? How could I instill in her something I myself was not possessing?

As I said in the beginning. I am a recovering addict. I still slip and get caught in the trap of being too focused on my aim for perfection in my appearance. But I am trying to be more aware and less down on myself. I want to be happy in the body that I have, not in one that I imagine will make me happy. I am not going to give up my workouts. I still want to take care of myself: eat healthy, exercise, etc. But my goal is not to become a perfect size whatever, but to be strong and energized to do the work before me. I don’t have to change  my lifestyle as much as I have to change my motivation and thoughts.

I want to be an example to Bridget of a healthy woman, happy with the way God made me and confident in my Father’s love.