Oh Crazy Day!

You know you've had a crazy day when your mom tells you she can't wait to read the post you write about your day.

Monday, a few months back, was just plain insane.

It started out like any other "normal" day. Not too normal, not too exciting. We were just getting stuff done. I went to work, Isaac stayed with his "Duck" (Josh's dad). I was having an Usborne book party that evening at my house. I knew I'd probably be running around like crazy after picking up Isaac after work and going home to prepare, but really, I hadn't a clue.

I got a call about mid-morning from my landlady, letting me know that since I hadn't been home when our handy dandy repair man had arrived with our new refrigerator, that he had placed our new fridge in the dining room and left the old one in place in the kitchen. This lovely man really had good intentions, he doesn't like to handle other people's food. You know, hygiene and germ safety issues. This extra fridge in our home may not have been a big deal if we had a dining room bigger than say, a guest bathroom. But we don't, and I expected a good 10-12 guests that night. I was able to laugh it off at that point. Oh well, Josh could help me with this when we both got home from work around 5.

I got the call from Josh after lunch. He would be late. Of course he would.

On my way home from work, I began to call in my troops. Mom, my sister, my neighbor, another friend... I was confident this was going to happen.

My mental list written on my return home:

-dishes
-trash
-feed Isaac dinner
-switch refrigerators
-clean up any mess left behind
-bring in extra table from outside
-prepare food and drinks and place on said table
-pick up any toys left laying around

I had from 5:10 pm to 7 pm. I believed in myself.

We had taken our "butcher block" table outside for cleaning and airing a few days prior to Monday. The base was sitting by our grill, the top leaning up against the wall. Or it had been before I'd left for work. I realized as soon as I looked around for it that it had a little too near the trash. The trash man, assuming it was just junk, had grabbed it this morning after I'd left. Of course he had.

I came inside to feed Isaac. He was eating a good dinner, no complaints. I happened to be on the phone with his pediatrician, which I never am, and turned to see him red-faced and choking silently. Terrified, I grabbed him and swiped out his throat. The baby Heimlich took care of the breathing hazard while I tried to sound like a non-crazy, competent mother on the phone with our pediatrician. I heard myself saying "he hasn't choked in months, I don't know what happened, he has like 25 teeth! It was just a kidney bean, he's eaten like 1200 of those!" God bless Dr. Hansen, he just acted like he talked on the phone with choking baby's mothers all day. I found myself shaking for at least the next hour.

After the terrifying dinner, I found Isaac playing with his xylophone, pretending it was a vacuum, of course, and half of his diaper contents all over his legs. I had known this would happen. I'd even told him, "please just tell me when you plan on pooping all over yourself tonight so I can get it before the floor does." At least I'd been prepared?

Unbeknownst to me, Josh was digging around in our dumpster looking for the missing table top. After a 12 hour day, he came stomping up the stairs with the rouge piece of metal to help usher out the old refrigerator. Adrienne, Josh and I started a line from the old to the new, passing down food. That was accomplished soon enough, and as I'd already moved magnets, pictures and all other refrigerator coverings, all we had left was to kick the old fridge out the back door. Except now it was 15 minutes before my party was to start and the fridge was too wide to go through the door. Mhmm.

I mentally removed myself from the refrigerator and it's nemesis and focused on the rusty crusty goop that had been hiding under our icebox. I assume it had been building up since about 1973. After much thought and the entrance of about 3 of my guests, I chose to leave this disgusting mess for the next person to get a new fridge in this apartment and clean up the rust stains streaking my kitchen floor.

Miraculously, Josh and my construction-worker sister got the piece-of-junk down the stairs and out the back door.

My party boat had barely been rocked and the rest of the night was spent reading fun childrens books and drinking red wine with several girlfriends. A good close to an interesting day.

Weary Soul

Dear Refuge of My Weary Soul

1. Dear refuge of my weary soul,
On Thee, when sorrows rise
On Thee, when waves of trouble roll,
My fainting hope relies
To Thee I tell each rising grief,
For Thou alone canst heal
Thy Word can bring a sweet relief,
For every pain I feel

2. But oh! When gloomy doubts prevail,
I fear to call Thee mine
The springs of comfort seem to fail,
And all my hopes decline
Yet gracious God, where shall I flee?
Thou art my only trust
And still my soul would cleave to Thee
Though prostrate in the dust

3. Hast Thou not bid me seek Thy face,
And shall I seek in vain?
And can the ear of sovereign grace,
Be deaf when I complain?
No still the ear of sovereign grace,
Attends the mourner's prayer
Oh may I ever find access,
To breathe my sorrows there

4. Thy mercy seat is open still,
Here let my soul retreat
With humble hope attend Thy will,
And wait beneath Thy feet,
Thy mercy seat is open still,
Here let my soul retreat
With humble hope attend Thy will,
And wait beneath Thy feet

Heart Smiles

I decided to give my post a really cheesy title. This is because, as syrupy as it is, it's what happens when I see these pictures of my grub man. Every few weeks I think, now THIS is my favorite age. I love all the new words, how excited he gets when he sees a new book on his shelf (and how many times we have to read it in a row), his ever whitening dance skills (as soon as I can stop laughing long enough to take a video of this I'll get one up here), how much he loves airplanes ... I could go on.

Here are a few moments from the last month or so. Sadly, I have not been blessed with any special photography skills. Please try and look past that :-)

Here are my TWO GRUBBY MEN. I love them. They both work so hard, one sweats it out in a fab shop, honing his fabrication skills, ie: welding for 10+ hours a day, the other works hard at play. Isaac found Daddy's shirt about an hour before Josh got home one day. He was hugging and snuggling with it (Josh had worn it the day before) and I put it on him as a joke. When I tried to take it off, Isaac started crying. I left him to run around in his t-shirt gown till Daddy got home. Once he did, Isaac had a ball pulling things out of Josh's pockets while he took a floor snooze.

While I was enjoying a break at the beach, Josh and Isaac had some male bonding time which included running around in diapers outside. (I'm almost certain Josh ran around outside, fully clothed. There are not any pictures for evidence. Suspicious, but we'll never know.)

Something slightly tragic occurred yesterday. We left Joe, Isaac's stuffed hedgehog and best friend, at a family members house. I don't know how Joe did last night, but Isaac did remarkably well. Normally, he converses with Joe for an hour or two before finally falling asleep in his crib at night. Last night, I hoped Osita ("little bear" in Spanish), who has always been just an acquaintance, would suffice. Everyone slept just fine. This morning, he woke up asking for Joe, but with a little of my subject-changing skills, Isaac spent the morning playing with "Tita."

Tita about to go for a ride on Beep Beep.

"You need to sit on your bo-uuum!"

"Let's go!"

Hugs for Tita!

If you made it this far, I hope you are smiling. Now I'm off to get ready for lunch at Advance Memphis and then dinner and a show (Les Mis!!) tonight with my husband for an early birthday celebration!!!

This Did NOT Happen to You Today.

Driving down Riverdale into Olive Branch, my weekly excursion to my mom's house began like any other.

After crossing Stateline I was startled to see a brilliantly hot pink head of hair just 100 yards in front of me. This pink lollipop crown belonged to a skinny, shirtless white boy who was sitting in the back of a maroon (I just love this color combination.) pick-up truck.

Facing me and cradling someone who appeared to be his girlfriend (let's just say, I hope she was his girlfriend), he had a very protective air about him. Said GF seemed to be passed-out asleep in her lover's arm.

Being very curvaceous, her opulent chest rose and fell with every bump and curve. With all of this fluid moment came a price. The hand which hung from the arm encircling Sleepy Beauty had to, at regular intervals, reach down and pull up on the front of her shirt.

It appeared to require much effort on the part of Pinky, but he was equal to the task. Sleepy must always rest well in the arms of her love, knowing no danger may befall when her Pink Knight is near.

Sadly, my phone device is a sad camera device and I was unable to obtain a picture of this beautiful moment.

You will just have to believe me.

Affection

We are an affectionate household. Josh and I both come from kissy, huggy families. The Edwards are even slightly European, they kiss hello and goodbye.

It goes without saying, therefore, that Isaac was destined to show his love. He follows his friends around, trying to hug their backs (this tends to cause baby fights) and play with their hair (mostly jealousy, I think - don't worry my bald 16-month-old, you are also destined to eventually have way too much hair).

A few weeks back, we went to visit Aunty AJ at Gus's Fried Chicken. I like to throw that around. Yeah, my sister works there.

Here's a picture of Isaac with one of his favorite people in the world:



Oh, wrong picture. Here's one where's he is kissing her (although it looks more like he's trying to take a bite of her face):



Back to affection and Gus's Fried Chicken.

Josh and I stood outside of the restaurant with some good friends and our babies. Isaac noticed a cute little 4-year-old-ish girl standing with her parents just a few feet away. Unexpectedly, he took off running towards her, arms outstretched, lips pursed, eyes wide.
This poor, unsuspecting little girl immediately started backing up towards her mama.

Her daddy started laughing so hard, he appeared to have no plans of coming to the rescue.

Mama, pitying Isaac's vulnerable position (we are running behind him, coaxing him not to kiss strangers, you know, because we are responsible parents like that), held her daughter's shoulder and gently told her it was okay, he was just a baby and that he wanted to say hi.

Well, little girl was not having this. She continued to walk backwards, in circles, as Isaac chased her, in circles. Honestly, they looked more coordinated than some dancers I've seen.

After a few moments of this routine, Josh stepped in between Isaac and his victim. Kindly, but firmly, he let our toddler know that he was not to chase strange girls in this manner. It was just never going to work out for him, now or in the future.


This event followed another kissing event just a few days before.

Grocery shopping is never a blast, but I find it to be less frustrating before 8 am. No people, no lines, no run-ins (don't pretend you don't know what I mean).

On this certain morning in Kroger, Isaac was feeling particularly friendly. We got to the check-out line and our favorite checker-outer was there.

His name is Elvis. Or at least that's what his name tag says.

Elvis was conversing with Isaac (when do people start talking to you again?) while I ran my debit card, entered my PIN, then put my wallet back into my purse.

I thanked Elvis for his help then told Isaac to say goodbye.

He pursed his lips and leaned his little body towards our faithful Kroger clerk.

See the hard part here is knowing your child has good intentions. It's not difficult to tell him "no" when he wants to do something he shouldn't, something that might hurt him, or play with something he could break. But in this scenario, my heart is just a little sad. I have to tell my son not to be as nice to someone as he wants to be. Seriously?

I laughed nervously and waved as I walked away. I pretended my son wasn't straining his neck, convinced I'd forgotten to let him kiss Elvis goodbye.

We have since been practicing blowing kisses. I'm not going to say it's instinctive yet, but we are getting there.



But seriously, who can resist this cowboy?

He's Got the Moves

Some of Isaac's beginner moves from this spring.

He also enjoys classical, hip hop and Latin rhythms.

Ghost In This House

I got the bright idea to polish off Isaac's first-year photo album tonight. This required my entering his room to get the album so I could remember what pictures I had last ordered.

I sneaked in at 8 o'clock, 55 minutes after I'd put him down for the night. Turning the door nob quietly, bouncing softly of the balls of my feet, I was sure he slept undisturbed. After retrieving the aforementioned album, I turned back towards the door.

My heart skipped a beat.

I began to reason with myself like a child scared of a shadow on the wall: its his bear, its a blanket sticking up strangely. It's not him, that's impossible!

I saw a white blob with eyes peering motionlessly over the bumper pad at me. Too still to be my son, or anything else alive for that matter.

I inched towards the bed, still arguing with myself. "You're so stupid, you'll see, its just one of his animals."

My heart was beating wildly.

I reached the bed. Forcing myself to bend at the waist, I moved my face down closer to the "blob." A blink.

All the curse words that chased each other around in my head somehow managed to stay there. "Go to sleep, love Joe. That's right. I love you."

I shut the door quietly then ran like a banshee for the well-lit living room.

This time the french flowed from my lips as I shrieked out the story to Josh.

He, of course, laughed at me for moment before he turned back to his book.


I have an over-active imagination. Isaac's first-year album is now complete. At least I'm not overly dramatic and unproductive. Right?

Deceptively Delish!

My mom just recently bought me Jessica Seinfeld's cookbook, Deceptively Delicious. I am in love! Every recipe has at least one vegetable and/or fruit puree hidden in the mix. Although, so far, everyone loves their veggies here, I like the option of adding another serving of vegetables to whatever we might be eating.

I was feeling a little bit experimental yesterday. I took the Blueberry Oatmeal Bar recipe and took away as much sugar as possible. It turned out amazingly tasty!

Servings: Makes 12 bars

Ingredients

* Nonstick cooking spray
* 2 cups old-fashioned oats
* 1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
* 1/2 cup sugar (I used 1/2 cup of honey instead)
* 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
* 1/4 teaspoon baking powder
* 1/4 teaspoon salt
* 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
* 3/4 cup Balance trans-fat-free soft tub margarine spread , chilled
* 1 cup low-sugar blueberry preserves (I used 1 cup of smashed-up fresh blueberries)
* 1/2 cup spinach puree

Directions:
Preheat oven to 375°. Coat an 8" x 8" baking pan with cooking spray.

In a large bowl, combine oats, flour, sugar/honey, cinnamon, baking powder, salt and vanilla and stir to mix well.

Add the margarine and cut it quickly into dry ingredients with two knives until the mixture resembles coarse meal and is no longer powdery. Do not overmix—bits of margarine will still be visible.

Set aside about half of the oat mixture; press the rest firmly into the pan. Bake until lightly browned at the edges (but not fully baked), 13 to 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, mix the blueberries with the spinach puree in a small bowl. It will be very green, don't worry, it turns blue during baking.

Spread blueberry mixture over the partially baked oat layer, then sprinkle with reserved oat mixture. Bake until topping is slightly browned, 20 to 25 minutes. Set the pan on a rack to cool completely before cutting into 12 bars. (Once it's completely cooled you can't taste the spinach AT ALL.)

This is a healthy, filling, slightly sweet food. Perfect for breakfast!

Sadly, I didn't document my time with pictures, the picture you see here is the one from the book. Enjoy!

What's for Dinner Mom?

Let me tell you, I have a funny little boy.

I was in the kitchen cooking this afternoon while Isaac played in the living area. I turned around to see him scooting a large pot into the kitchen right behind me. I thought nothing of it and ran out to the dining room to grab something. I came back in and found this:




Does this mean he wanted to help?

I'm still laughing!

Sweet Blood

No, this isn't a blog about vampires. It is one about their close relations, the anopheles, or in lay terms: mosquitoes.

Mosquitoes have plagued me every year of my life from April to September. I get told I have sweet blood. I think this is just a nice way of telling me a nasty pesky ugly bug wants to suck my blood.

Here's the problem. There are actually several. Some are vain, some are apparently genetic and some are just irritating.

First of all, I must clarify that as an adult I have become comfortable in my see-through toned skin. God gave it to me and He also gave me a husband that thinks its beautiful. That's all that matters. BUT, the problem is that when my legs must show in the summer, these pasty limbs are usually covered in: bruises (I am painfully clumsy and usually slightly anemic), cuts (see aforementioned explanation) and--mosquito bites. I think by June I usually have, on average, about 20. Per leg. So, bruise, scratch and mosquito covered legs = hatred of shorts.

This leads into my second problem. I actually didn't know I had this problem until I married Josh. Isn't it GREAT how God uses marriage to point out unpleasant truths about ourselves we otherwise may have never known? (If you didn't hear the sarcasm in my tone, re-read my last sentence with your best sarcastic mental voice) Josh told me one day as I scratched a bite on my knee not to worry, it'd be gone tomorrow. I stopped scratching to look at him with my best -what the heck are you talking about?- face while informing him since I'd just gotten it three days before, I knew it'd be at least two more weeks till it started to fade away. He stared. Then accused me of exaggerating. I stared back. What in the world? He informed me his mosquito bites lasted exactly three hours. Three hours? Was he superhuman?? No. This was a lie. A boldfaced lie. I was sure of it. He had never lied to me before, but this was impossible.

I ate my words. Sure enough, a couple of days later, I watched as a hungry little bug landed on his arm, took a drink and flew off. The biggest, nastiest red bump popped up soon after while he scratched away. Three hours later? The itchy spot had vanished!! What water had I been drinking? My whole sense of reality had been shaken to the core.

Really, these are the only two complaints I can, with some justification, elaborate on. The rest are almost too common to mention. The itching, the burning, the possibility of scarring... you, dear reader, must already be very familiar with.

Well, I shouldn't mindlessly complain. It is my goal to plant eucalyptus all around our backyard area to ward off these little chomping toots. Of course, I had the same intentions last summer.

For anyone who might still think I'm talking about vampires:

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Got it??

One of Those Days

Actually, these are the things that keep life humorous.

Today it was when I noticed that things were a little too quiet. I walked back towards the bathroom to find a happy Isaac sitting in the middle of the bathroom floor halfway through unrolling a brand new roll of toilet paper. Some was in his mouth, the rest in a large heap to his left. As soon as I walked up behind him, he turned around and scowled, let a "humph" and dropped his head. Fun over.

Maybe all my stories will be prefaced with my noticing things were too quiet. Maybe they'll always be in the bathroom. Last week it was another "too-quiet" moment when I went searching. Now I'm going to break my own rule and share a bodily-function story. If you don't want to read it, skip this paragraph. I have a slightly gross habit of not flushing "tinkie" when Isaac is napping. The bathroom is right by his bedroom and flushing has woken him a time or two. Since it's just mommy and baby most of the time, I haven't thought much about it. Back to my story. I arrived on the landing of our bathroom door to see Isaac swirling his hand around in the toity, bringing it up to his mouth to stuff in more toilet paper and then turning towards me to grin. I just screamed. A little too long and unnecessarily. His bottom lip fell over, his face scrunched up and I stopped screaming, realizing I was scaring my child with my unearthly loud hysteria. I took a deep breath, walked towards him a little unwillingly, dug out the wad in his mouth, sat us both on the floor, and after a moment of thought, sprayed the inside of his mouth with my bathroom-stationary bottle of vinegar water. On the way out of the bathroom I of course slammed my little toe on the giant metal trashcan and had a fit all over again.

Yesterday I was working at the computer when Isaac came over to hang out with me. He made his way around the chair to the side that is closest to the wall and all the cords for our computer and the many accessories that go with it. This was of course to discuss the different varieties of cords with me. Thin ones, thick ones, blue ones, white ones. This is a new favorite pastime. I sit there and nod and pretend to agree with whatever he is "saying" when his hand will inevitably get too close. I'll warn not to touch. His eyes get bigger, as if say, "how could you think I'd do so?" While he's looking at me with well-feigned innocence, his hand usually "accidentally" wraps around one of the cords that just dangle so temptingly. Then, of course the stern remonstrance ensues. In most cases this is the end and I remove Isaac from this forbidden (and otherwise closed-off) nook. This time he, of course, sat back in defiance and landed on the cords. He just barely joggled the plug and everything shut-off. I felt my insides swell with indignation as I held back the temper tantrum that would have rivaled any two-year-old. The lesson learned was really more for me. I now keep my chair awkwardly placed where there's no way he can get back to this corner. My back hurts, but I'm not picking the router up off the floor twice a day anymore.

I should probably use the rest of this nap time to clean up the living room that currently looks like a tornado just ripped through it.

My two favorite, silly, messy boys.

Jane & Charlotte

The title of my blog being what it is, it would seem almost expected that I blog about books, literature or libraries. This hasn't ever really been done here. Not because I don't love to read, but because reading has taken a "back-burner" recently.

For most of my life I've been able to plow through pages and pages of novels, non-fiction and the like without much else seeming important enough to stop me. Now that I have a couple of "distractions" that seem a bit more worth my time... reading has fallen quietly into last place.

Any reading I do get to do usually occurs about 15-20 minutes before bed. I'll squeeze in as many lines as I can process before my brains shuts down and my eyes refuse to stay open any longer.

I love all sorts of literature. I love Harry Potter, went through a crazed Twilight stage, The Help was phenomenal and I even made my way through a Stephen King (shudder). But my favorite genre, the most beloved place in my reader's soul is reserved for the classics. This obsession began in middle school. I read and re-read The Secret Garden, Robin Hood (difficult!) and Treasure Island (my brain morphed my speech to that of a pirate's for an entire month).

Then, somewhere in high school I discovered Jane Austen. I fell in love with Elinor and Marianne, Jane and Elizabeth, Emma, Fanny and of course all of the gallant, noble men that tormented there souls and eventually blessed them with a "happily ever after."
With names like Mr. Knightley and Mr. Darcy what else could you expect?

I've recently re-read Pride and Prejudice, Emma and Mansfield Park. When I open these books I feel like I'm cozying up to and old friend and it. is. delightful!

This week, a friend of mine just told me there is a new Jane Eyre movie in theaters. Having never read this book, she quickly lent me her copy, telling to read it then see the film. I have read Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights. While neither of the Bronte sisters' dark style is my favorite, I am intrigued by any book that has captured the attention of so many for almost 200 years. The little bit I have read about the Bronte sisters' difficult life makes their writing that much more fascinating.

Here's to a new (to me) book and I'm expecting, a good read!!

A Flarg

This is a word that exactly describes how I have felt since weaning my son almost a week ago. (For those who might be worried I will go into more detail about this process: don't, I won't!)

For the past two years I have either been pregnant or nursing. My body has been the life supply of not one, but two people. Sounds sacrificial, huh? Keep thinking that, I am pretty sacrificial. And humble.

No, the eventual point of this musing is the strangely awful amount of weight I have put on in 6 days since I began eating for one.

My health philosophy:

Eat right, exercise frequently, drink a lot of water. And eat chocolate.

I can't seem to remember my life or body before the beginning of my pregnancy over two years ago, but my "health philosophy" has worked great since then.

I eat a lot of chocolate.

For those of you who may not know, I'll fill you in on the eating habits of a nursing woman. Lots of people talk about preggies, it's just fun to do. But don't forget the nursies, they're pretty interesting too!

Right after Isaac as born, I researched the amount of calories I needed to consume while nursing. The results were phenomenal. 2,500 calories! The same as a marathon runner!

Now am I actually a calorie counter? No. I don't even like the scale. Its not that I have an issue with it, I just don't care about a number. See my definition of health above.

No, all this gave me the freedom to do was to continue to eat as much as I did while pregnant.

Hmmm, I should clarify how boring I am. Poor Josh, I'm actually very boring. If I wasn't married, I eat the same thing everyday of my life.

I love:
Kashi Cinnamon cereal for breakfast. With coffee.
Turkey sandwich for lunch, Sun chips, fruit and water
Peanut butter crackers around 3:30pm
Grilled chicken salad for dinner. With Balsamic Vinaigrette dressing. Red wine. Chocolate.

I didn't think I was eating too much, hey look at my daily menu! But this week, as my pants started to get tighter and tighter, (I'm talking sweatpants people. Sweatpants!!) I started paying attention to what I was actually taking in. Yikes!

Yesterday's food diary:

Breakfast: Giant bowl of cereal with whole milk, coffee w/ half & half
Lunch?: I couldn't wait till my scheduled noon lunch with my mom, I made a big ole turkey sandwich at 11. With cheese.
LUNCH: Cesar salad (sounds healthy, but with creamy dressing, it really isn't), bowl of chicken tortilla soup. All the chips.

I did OKAY till the second half of the day...

Post work-out: (also happens to be about half an hour before dinner) peanut butter crackers. A bite of the turkey intended for our dinner. Dipped in cheese dip.

Dinner: (8pm by the way) More turkey sandwiches. (Come live with me, it's really exciting) Leftover cheese dip. Lots of chips. Giant chocolate cupcake. Beer.

This might not sound so terrible to you. I didn't include the other snacks through the day so small I can't remember or count them. I just have retained the necessary-while-pregnant habit of eating small throughout the day. I think I'm in the observation stage of a life-style change. I will probably gain a couple more pounds, then decide to alter my eating habits. Check back with me in a couple of weeks.

One Down, Ninety-Nine To Go!

Happy birthday to my little man! Exactly one year ago from this minute I was holding my sweet baby for the first time. His little purple body and pointy cone head were PERFECT!

To read my blog about that dramatic saga, click here

This has been a fun week so far. The weather this weekend was beautiful! While I was working out in the yard, Josh got to take some pictures of my "little helper."








We went for a walk in Chickasaw Gardens and drooled over the ridiculously beautiful yards. The mature gardens just touch my soul.

Once again, Josh the photographer snapped some pictures of Isaac. He somehow talked me into being in them as well.








I should probably start a flicker account with all of the pictures I like to upload. Here is the last segment. I'd call it "Isaac Loves to Read," but that's wishful thinking. "Isaac Loves to Destroy My Books" is more accurate.






What a life-changing, rewarding, exhausting, thrilling, repetitive, awesome job I have!

Happy Birthday Booger!!

Yummy Flax Carrot Apple Muffins!

First of all, if the name puts you off, these are DE-LISH! I love this recipe because it is so healthy, versatile and EASY! And I'm all about easy right now!

Set your oven to 350. I took a picture for you in case your a visual person, like me!



Next, gather the ingredients.



You'll need:
(Dry Ingredients)
- 1 1/2 cup flour
- 3/4 cup flaxseed meal
- 3/4 cup oat flour (by grinding oats in blender)
- 3/4 cup brown sugar
- 2 tsp baking soda
- 1 tsp baking powder
- 2 cups pureed or shredded carrots
- 2 cups pureed or shredded apples

(Wet Ingredients)
- 3/4 cup milk
- 2 eggs
- 1 tsp vanilla

The first thing I do is puree the carrots and apples. This made the muffins very soft and moist for Isaac who isn't very good at chewing yet.



The next step is to grind the oats and flaxseed, in my case because I only had whole seeds. (I used my coffee grinder)



Add all the dry ingredients together in one bowl and the three wet ingredients together in a separate bowl.



Pour the wet mixture into the dry mixture:



Pour batter into your muffin pan and pop in the oven for 10 mins (mini muffins) or 15 mins (large muffins).

It would be much easier if I could remember to use muffin paper cups, but I never think to buy them. I also only have one muffin pan, so I make a loaf of bread with the rest of the batter.

Voila!!



Keep out a couple and freeze the rest for quick snacks later on!

Like a Fish

Going to the gas station across the street from our apartment is always interesting. There is quite the conglomeration of people getting gas, coffee, beer, candy, etc.

Today I ran over to get a coffee. Auntie AJ kept Isaac so I wouldn't spill coffee all over the stroller like I did the last time.

As I walked up to the counter to purchase my $0.89 coffee (beat that Starbucks!), I noticed the line in front of me. Up at the counter was a tall white man purchasing a case of Bud Light. Behind him, two children of Latin American decent were waiting to buy their candy and snacks. Their father looked on from about 10 feet away, occasionally saying something to them in Spanish.

As the first man finished checking out he walked by the father of the two children, held up the case of beer and yelled right into his face, "I drink like FISH!" I suppose this was because the man he was speaking to was probably deaf and stupid.

As someone who spent a year among a Spanish-speaking people, I know that when speaking to someone who may or may not speak English, it can be very helpful to leave out articles in your sentences as you yell while grinning stupidly from ear to ear.

Not.

Oh, the best part? This same loud-mouthed man passed me in the street as I walked home. He rolled down his window and yelled, "que pasa, señorita!" Ca-lass-y.

On a much lighter note:

Here are a few pictures of my funny little baby. We love bananas!





This is what happens when I leave to get coffee. I'm not sure who I feel sorry for.