pinterest pizazz

So last week was a week of celebrating Little E. And, celebrate we did. It was loud, it was hot (our house is not used to that many people and the weather was 80-degrees outside!), it was loaded with food, color, friends, family, and a classic cupcake-smashing picture. Everything I could have asked for.

I certainly didn't want to overshadow the week with a little humble bragging on my own role. Now that the week is over, I'm humble bragging my way through today. Last week I managed to cook two new meals and create a fantastic birthday-party decoration last week thanks to the pass-it-on-Pinterest craze. I'm not one to typically follow-through in these situations so claiming not one but three successes is a big deal in and of itself!

Since the recipes and how-to have already been explained at other sites, I'm only going to give you a quick recap and then send you on your merry way to either hook up at the big-P or check out the other blogs for the nitty-gritty details.

First up: Roasted Peppers, Chicken Sausage, and Potatoes
Somewhere in the middle of the week I chopped up some red peppers, potatoes and chicken sausage, tossed them in a bowl with some easy seasonings, threw them on a baking pan, cooked them in the oven, and actually fed my little family a home-cooked meal. It was so good and so easy it will most definitely be used again!

For the full recipe: skinnytaste.com

Next: Crockpot Chicken Soup
I hesitate to do crockpot dishes because we don't do leftovers very well in this house and there are always leftovers with crockpot dishes. Thankfully, my parents were here on Friday to help prep for the big party so I could justify the experiment. It was thick, creamy, delicious goodness and there was none left over in the end (thanks Dad for finishing it off!) - most importantly, it actually tasted like chicken noodle soup so I know that I did it right (yes, that's a big deal for me).

For pictures and the full recipe: www.creativelydomestic.com

Finally, and my favorite: A balloon wreath - without having to blow up the balloons!

This one was too easy and too much fun to miss! We will be using the wreath for all future birthday party celebrations - not just Little E. And the concept could feasibly be extended to other options: using a small straw wreath and some balloons to create centerpieces, for example.

My pictures are below. I used balloons from the Dollar Tree and a 16" straw wreath (still packaged). I had to buy multiple packets of the balloons, but I liked the variety of colors and shapes when it was all done. I think the example at the original website is a bit more simple but it still looks awesome so you know the possibilities are endless!

For the full how-to guide: www.ourbestbites.com 

Okay, humble bragging over. I'll post some party pics and ideas later this week. We had a lot of fun, and I loved having an excuse to try out my crafty side!

monday meditation: 3/18/2012

Scripture: Psalm 28

Thoughts:
It's good to read the entire Psalm for context, but did verse 3 jump out at you the way it did at me? "Do not drag me away with the wicked, with those who do evil, who speak cordially with their neighbors but harbor malice in their hearts." The first half sets up for some pretty grizzled and horrendous characters; the last part flashes a mirror at me. Me? Wicked and evil? Because I subscribe occasionally to some sweet Southern gentility and play nice with those around me while sometimes, maybe, wishing they would "get what they deserve!"

Yup. That smacked me. It seems more often those who decide against pursuing a spiritual journey do so mainly because they believe a few things: they either end up nonexistent when they die or in heaven; heaven is for decent people who are not as bad as (insert evil dictator name here) so that gives them an obvious "in"; and, hell is a swear word.

I believe we've started to set our bars too high (not that I'd ever think I'd say that about a dictator!) - David doesn't suggest that the wicked and evil ones are those who are brutal, inhumane, barbaric, murderous, and self-interested. He suggests that something as simple as saying something that is dishonest coming from your lips or wishing something harmful on another person is: Wicked. And, Evil.

Wow. Now, I realize the Psalms are meant to be read as poetry and that many of the devices used to make a point are not meant to be taken literally, but as an overall society and in my own mind, we often picture ourselves as bastions of virtue and well-doing because we only compare ourselves to people more smutty than we are - on the outside. The Bible is pretty clear that we look at outward appearances, but God looks at the heart (1 Samuel 16:7).

Guess I better be more vigilant about my inside cleaning. And, a bit more honest about who I should be striving to model my life after: Perfect, holy, good, love.

Shameless Sunday Snapshots: 3/17/2012

We're participating once again in Life in These Times' Shameless Sunday Snapshots. What better way to show off the fun celebration of Little E's first birthday!

Let's explain the birthday bruises: To celebrate her first two days of being 1 she gave herself one bruise per day. So, on Friday she conked her head on the coffee table and gave herself the beautiful shiner above her left eye. On Saturday, before her party, she somehow fell in her crib and gave herself the gash below her right eye. Still smiling, though :)

That would be her frilly butt in the top right corner.

The obligatory cupcake smashing photo. 

The Life of the Party.

My Pinterest creation - a balloon wreath (without having to blow them up!)

how you arrived

Disclaimer: mention of blood and other body fluids in this post. Not for the squeamish.

Your due date was March 8, 2011 (the 100th anniversary of International Women's Day). I stopped work a week before that so I could "prepare"....and, in the possible chance that you wanted to come early. Which you didn't. You were hunkered down and ready to stay put. Daddy and I were so eager to meet you. Daddy kept promising to buy you a pony if only you would come. We had attended birthing classes, breastfeeding classes, decorated the nursery, been showered three times (with a lot of stuff we could only imagine what it might be for), and we were ready to meet you.

At 38 weeks I could only wear daddy's t-shirts and had forgotten how to smile naturally, apparently. We were ready for you to come, but it would be three more weeks of growing before you decided to come. No telling how big I was then. Yikes!

On March 8, I went in for my weekly doctor appointment and was informed that my body hadn't even started preparing for your delivery. We would wait some more. Instead of going to a friend's house for a party, I laid on the couch in a mess of a pity-party and cried.

One week later, we went in for another appointment and a non-stress test. The doctor said it was time for you to arrive, but we were going to need to help a bit. So, we called your future grandparents, aunts and uncles, and eagerly checked in to the hospital. The doctor gave me some medicine to get me ready for the induction the next day which was supposed to get me ready for your grand entrance after that. Your daddy slept scrunched in the window seat/bed, and I eventually dozed off giddy and anxious about what the next day would hold.

About 3:00 AM on Wednesday, March 16, 2011, I woke up because I had to pee. And, I suspected I was having contractions. The first part was pretty standard for the last part of the pregnancy (you sure did like squishing my bladder!), but the last part was a whole new experience. I woke up your daddy and said I thought I was having a contraction. He got up to check the fancy machine next to me and then help me to the restroom. I stood. My water broke - Hollywood style. We were told initially that few women have the dramatic gut-busting, water-gushing experiences that Hollywood portrays to indicate a woman going into labor. Just so happens, I was one of them. Daddy called the nurses to let them know. Nurse came in. Something else seemed to be gushing. I got lightheaded. I remember daddy asking if I was okay, but all I could do was think that I had to power through - maybe it was a contraction and if I just focused it would pass and then I could answer. It was a long time. Then, someone, either daddy or the nurse, noticed I was bleeding. A lot.

Suddenly, the nurse was laying me back, a team of other nurses entered the room, and the doctor was being wakened to perform an emergency c-section. While everyone was calm on the outside, there was an underlying hint that something could be very wrong. Your poor daddy was left standing next to a puddle of blood as they quickly wheeled me out of the room and towards the operating table. The doctor later said he followed the blood trail from my room to the OR. I remember them trying to delicately lift your 6'0" tall, very pregnant mother from one bed to the operating table. I remember them trying to put an oxygen mask on my face that didn't fit. The nurse thought I was being belligerent about not wanting to wear it - the truth was, I couldn't breathe because the stupid thing was cutting off the air flow through my shnoz. Once that was figured out we were better. I remember them giving me a catheter, and my brain, apparently still thinking there was a chance this could be natural, thought "Oh, I didn't want a catheter, I wanted to be able to walk around a bit in labor." The doctor came in, said everything was going to be fine, he'd done many of these before, he'd check it out, and you would be here soon. Then I went under.

Your daddy changed your first poopy diaper. I didn't get to meet you until many hours later. This made me sad.

It would take many months for me to realize that I missed that we didn't get to have a cute family picture in the hospital with the three of us immediately post-birth - our new family. I missed that I didn't get to hold you right away and when I did you were connected to tubes and gadgets, and I was hooked up to stuff, too, and nurses were trying to shove you on my boob to breastfeed. I cried when I first saw you; I couldn't believe you were finally here. And you were beautiful!

We've had lots of fun since then. We've changed many poopy diapers - both daddy and I. We've marveled - absolutely marveled - at your progression from sitting to crawling to walking. We're always trying to find ways to make you laugh a little bit more - and you are constantly making us laugh. We love to take you outside on walks where you can call out to the cats of the neighborhood hoping one day, perhaps, you might have one of your own. Despite your rambunctious nature, you love to sit and read your books. You sleep with your tush in the air - just like daddy used to. You seem annoyed when people, strangers, don't pay attention to you in the stores - you literally stare them down. You give wonderfully sloppy kisses.

We are so blessed to have you in our family. We are so glad you finally arrived. We can't wait to see what the next year brings! Happy Birthday Little E!

open letter to my mother

Dear Mom,
There's a lot I have to tell you now that I'm a mother, too. There's a lot I've learned in just a year about what it means exactly to earn the mom title. And now that I have the title, I realize that I have a big THANK YOU note to write. I know I can never repay everything you did and all you sacrificed, but I hope that in learning each day what this privilege brings I can at least be a little better grateful.

Though I'm hesitant to admit it, it's entirely possible that I wasn't the world's most perfect baby. In fact, it seems that all first-borns, despite their reputation, must be a major shock to new parents. Thanks for bringing me into the world, for following your gut on how to raise a new baby (I think I turned out okay so whatever you did works for me!), and for staying with me for the first week of Little E's life and teaching me - in a hurry - all of that.

Even before that, thanks for driving in the middle of the night to the hospital when you found out I was going in for emergency surgery. I know if I thought anything could potentially happen to Little E I would do the same thing. It's nice to have someone there who does that for me. Thanks for being concerned about Hubby, too, as you thought he was sitting all alone in a hospital room with little to no information about his wife and hopefully new child. It means a lot that you are still concerned about the things that concern me.

Back to that first week and the teaching thing. Thanks. From the beginning. I was trying to feed Little E early on and realized that the reason I know how to use a spoon is because you took the time (and what a lot of time!) to teach me. How to use a spoon. How to use the toilet. How to brush my teeth. How to take care of a screaming infant. And everything in between. I hope that teaching gene got transferred. I now appreciate it even more as I try to teach Little E all those tiny life skills that take so much repetition and patience. Thank you.

And now as you enthusiastically embrace the Grandma title, thank you for doing that with 110% of who you are. Little E is so blessed to have such a loving, vibrant, and supportive extended family all around. Her cute little room in my old bedroom, hundreds (is that close?) of "I love Grandma" articles of clothing, babysitting, energetic playing, and reading to her.

Finally, thank you for making me say thank you. All those thank-you notes we had to write at Christmas ("Who is that from? Did you check the label? You can't just rip-snort through the gifts!") and birthdays were good practice for the many more things in life that I would get to say thank-you for. Gratitude is such a critical part of a happy life, and I am so grateful that you taught me that it was important. Thank you.

Now, I really should go figure out how to get Little E to write her first batch of birthday thank-you cards....guess that's me, too, huh?

Thank you mom. I love you!

nursery notes

Since I wasn't fully engaged in blogging while we were preparing for Little E's arrival, I didn't give detailed accounts of what we were doing. Since entering the blogosphere more actively I've noticed a lot of great projects and ideas that are posted. They can be great sources of inspiration and are often just fun pieces to read - like being a nosy neighbor into someone's home.

So, here we have our nursery story. When we bought our house it was clear that the middle bedroom had previously been occupied by two little boys. There was a thick blue on the wall - somewhere between Carolina Blue and Duke Blue. I love blue so I didn't have any inclination to paint the room, and it functioned as a beautiful guest bedroom for several years. When we learned Little E was on the way, I still didn't want to paint the room. This time it was less out of fondness for the color and more out of laziness.

So, I set out in search of  "theme" for our new nursery. I had several "requirements" that didn't make the job any easier. One, I didn't want something that was common - in other words, if I could find all I needed for the nursery at Pottery Barn Kids or Babies R Us, I wasn't interested. Two, I didn't want something overtly girl - and certainly not overtly boy. I loved that we were having a girl, but I didn't want to inundate her life with pink from the get-go. I knew the pink oufits and accessories and toys and room furniture would come. I just wanted to create a space for it to complement. Three, I didn't want to have to re-paint the room so our main color was blue. Please see number 2 for why this was potentially problematic. Four, I wanted something that would be acceptable for a child for a couple years at least. And Five, I wanted something that would be a bit stimulating for you as she grew and your eyesight developed.

To be honest, one year later, I don't remember what my ideas were before I settled on our design. So, here's a look at the inspiration and then the rest of the details.

The picture that started it all.

I purchased this picture years ago on a lark. I didn't really have a place for it, but I loved the whimsy. I loved the different components mushed into one fantastical picture - bandana-wearing giraffes soaring in a hot air balloon, accompanied by a palm tree from France presumbly. The possible stories as to how that picture came about were endless. So, I bought it. I stored it for a bit and occassionaly hung it in various rooms of my living spaces throughout the years.

When the idea for the nursery came to me I was staring at this picture in it's then-resting-spot across from the guest bathroom toilet. (Who says its not a good thinking spot?)

Hot air balloons!

Perfect - no red so they didn't look boyish, blue sky in the background, plenty of colors and patterns for developing eyes, a theme that could grow for a few years, and definitely something that would be hard to find anywhere else (as I would later discover). And, my beloved picture would finally have an appropriate resting spot (not to mention visitors to our guest bathroom would not feel like they were being watched by two criminal giraffes illegally transporting a tropical bush intercontinentally).

I did what I do whenever anyone in my family has a creative project in mind - I called my sister.
"Can you paint hot air balloons?"
"Huh?"
"For the nursery. I thought about doing hot air balloons, but I would need you to paint them. I can sketch some ideas, but you're the artist in the family so I'd rely on your genius to get it on the wall."
"Ooooh....hot air balloons sound fun."

The rest is history. We selected three colors, in addition to white, to brighten the room and make it a girls room - purple, green, and yellow. I sketched some ideas, but coming up with patterns was a lot harder than I imagined. Still, when it was finished we had circles, rectangles, and diamonds.
Here are some pictures - the clouds were fun to do with a transluscent white paint and a sponge and it turns out you can't really mess them up!

Aunt Sarah starting the clouds. 

Dad filling in the details.

The master artist creating the small baskets on the balloons.

Aunt Rachel's balloon - with Aunt Sarah's help :)

My balloons (and favorites) - also with Aunt Sarah's follow-up assistance :)

The painting was only part of it - albeit a big part. There were many other contributions to the mix.
I found some purple accessories from Target.

Hubby's sister, Aunt Ryan, found a stack of nesting hot air balloons that we painted to add a few 3-D balloons.

I purchased a couple baskets and some ribbon to make resting places for a few stuffed animals attached to painted balloons.

We added a special wall hanging to round it out - a quilt from my office. Several people made a patch and a wonderfully talented friend pulled it all together. I look forward to telling Little E all about the people who took time to make such a special piece for her.

Thanks OIP for the beautiful addition!

And, the giraffes found their home above the glider (the best seat in the house - thanks Grandparents V!).

In the past year we have re-arranged furniture multiple times, but as Little E has grown older and more aware it's been wonderful to greet her in the morning or after a nap and have her point to the different balloons for explanation or reach up to touch one of the baskets.

What's your nursery story? Or, if you're not in that stage of life, have any memories of your own nursery or childhood playroom?

when I promised to love you as much as I could

We found out that we were pregnant on July 4th. We laughed that we had lost our independence on Independence Day. We weren't telling anyone until we could have it confirmed by the doctor (except grandparents and aunts and uncles), but we smiled A LOT. A few weeks later we would confirm at the doctor's office that we had read the pee-stick correctly (twice). A couple weeks later I was calling my mom and asking "How much bleeding is too much?"

On the verge of tears I called the doctor's office and left my information for the on-call doctor to respond. Except that by the time the doctor called back I was crying too much to say anything coherent. Your daddy took the phone. He answered the questions, and, when I was composed, handed me the phone for more questions. I answered. The doctor said we were on "threatened miscarriage" and to keep my feet up for the rest of the weekend and until we could be seen in the office.

So, daddy brought me food, I rolled slowly and uncomfortably for a couple days on a small leather couch in front of pointless television, and I emailed my job to say I wouldn't be in until after a doctor visit on Monday. I texted to grandma when I could with any updates - no phone calls, I couldn't talk without crying. And I cried myself to sleep. I swore to God that even though I hadn't been sure about the whole motherhood thing I would love this baby more than anyone. Please don't take it.

I learned later that your daddy cried in the home office when we found out it could be a miscarriage - he was strong for me, but very, very worried.

And a lovely friend sent me a verse to remind me that God was in control - one way or another.

"Philippians 4:6-7 "Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God. And the PEACE of God, which passeth all understanding shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus."

So I added prayers for the peace that goes beyond my own understanding in whatever the outcome was. But, I kept pleading for you to stay.

Monday came not soon enough. We sat nervously in the doctor's office until they called us both back to check for the heartbeat. Jelly on belly and the nurse started searching. And she kept searching. And she kept searching. Apparently, you were a wiggler even then because it took her the longest minute of my life to hear your heartbeat.

And we smiled again.