It’s New Year’s—And I’m Back

It might have seemed that I fell off the face of the earth this last week, when what I intended to be a four- or five-day break turned into over a week off of blogging. The truth is, I was having so much fun with my family that I just didn’t sit down at my computer. And as much as I love blogging, a break from the norm was very, very welcome.

 

The silly bit of it is that I’ve had end-of-the-year posts saved up in my brain for weeks. That’s how my blogging mind works—I think of things to write before the appropriate occasions present themselves. Then I either write them down way too early and save them to be posted later or, as in this case, I keep thinking about them and thinking about them, then leave the state for a few days, stay away from my computer for a few more, and then finally cram it all into one post.

 

2011 has been an excellent year. I’ve come into my own as a mother; I’ve learned a great deal that’s helping me to focus on making my marriage and family life the best it can be; I’ve successfully launched a freelance business; I’ve read thirty books; I’ve learned to knit; and (for the most part) I’ve kept up with blogging.

 

Man, am I tired. Ha!

 

But then this list is not meant to toot my own horn. Rather it’s meant to express, in large part as a reminder to myself, that this year I learned to trust in a whole new way.

 

I learned that I achieve more when I don’t cling to what I think I know, what I think is mine.  I learned that life is more worthwhile when it’s not just about myself. I learned that I have more energy when I give my time completely to others—to John, to Jacob, to friends I talk with over the phone or visit with in person, and most especially to God in prayer.

 

I could not have had the year I did without my faith, my marriage, my family. People sometimes say that high school is the best four years of your life. Others contend that the years spent in undergrad are the greatest. Those times were good for me, and when they drew to a close, I had only a hazy expectation of what came next. It turns out, these years after high school, after college, when I am in the world and making it my own; when I am learning what it really means to be married, to be a mother, to be a woman of faith—it is these years that are truly my prime.  And I can’t wait to start another one.

 

Photos and “Best of 2011” lists coming soon!

 

Happy New Year!

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Baby vs. Butternut Squash: Round Two

Last year, I attempted to cook a couple of dinners that involved butternut squash. I learned that it is possible to cook a time-consuming meal like that with a baby around, but, unfortunately not possible to eat it when it’s prepared. Last year, both times, the baby won.

 

This year, I gave it another shot. I’ve been craving macaroni and cheese; I had a recipe for butternut squash macaroni and cheese; and I had a butternut squash that needed to be consumed soon. Plus a macaroni-and-cheese-loving friend was coming for a visit, if I needed something to put me over the top.

 

I upped the ante this time, considering how allergic to dairy Jacob is. Macaroni and cheese involves milk, cheese, and butter—the trifecta of Jacob poison. But did that stop me? No!

 

It was a battle to keep Jacob entertained and well fed while I cooked (essentially with one hand, mind you), but I did it. The key this time was that I didn’t intend to eat the meal right away. I was making dinner at lunchtime. Not only that, but I made two casseroles, so I really made two dinners (and a couple of lunches). Not only that, but I put bacon on top. Not only that, but I toasted panko crumbs for a topping in the bacon fat before I put it on the mac and cheese.

 

Was there a crying baby? Yes. Was there a crying daddy when he saw the mess in the kitchen? Yes. But was there a mama with a very happy belly and a strong sense of victory? Oh, yes.

 

Baby: one. Butternut squash: one.

 

Until next time . . .

Batting Lefty

Friday night I cut my hand on a can of tomato sauce. It sounds silly, and I know the situation I created was kind of dumb, but in the heat of the pizza-topping moment, it was what it was.

 

John was a champ all weekend, doing literally everything and more to cook, clean, and take care of Jacob. This morning is the first time I’ve really had to do anything on my own with my hand, and I don’t want to push my luck (or lack thereof). So I leave you with three things to think about this morning.

 

1. Jacob learned to sign “please” this weekend. It’s supposed to be your hand flat against your chest, moving in a circular motion. Jacob modified it to have his hand move over his mouth instead. And not only that, he sticks out his tongue while he does it, thus licking his hand over and over. When I ask him to say please, I end up with a little boy with a slimy hand. I’m not sure teaching manners at this age is all it’s cracked up to be.

 

2. Fun fact: I can do more than I expected with my left hand. The one thing that’s proved impossible, though, is washing my left arm.

 

3. And the obligatory Jacob photos. Bananas!

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