Mom's Corner

This is just a phase…they won’t want these things forever

So I’m sitting on the couch with my husband and settling onto the couch when I hear “mommy?” for the umpteenth time… The first time was around 8:30. Then 8:47. Then 8:52. Etc, etc.

This is just a phase.

This is just a phase.

This is just a freaking phase.

My toddler has been an independent sleeper since she was 6 months old. We hardly have any issues with getting her to bed and her staying there.

Until recently.

Maybe she’s still hungry. Alright, here’s a snack. Maybe she’s not ready for bed. Okay, you can play a little longer. Or….maybe she just needs me. Okay, let’s go in your room together and I’ll put you back to bed. I laid her down started brushing my finger across her face as she rubbed her eyes, tickling her back like I do for her sister, humming a song, until she points to the space to her left and says “Mommy, too?” She wanted me to lay next to her. So that’s what I did. I climbed into her crib and curled up next to her. She slid her little arm under my neck and hugged my head against her body.

And it hit me. Hard.

I realized I have not laid down with her to put her to sleep since she was 6 months old–she’ll be 2 next month. I laid there and watched her slowly blink away the day as she played with my hair. I did that until I noticed she was starting to fall a little deeper into her slumber and decided to get out before I ended up waking her as I did it later on. So I got out and stood by her crib and repeated my earlier actions. I brushed my fingers across her face. I tickled her back. I glued my eyes to her little body. I watched the rise and fall of her chest.

And I cried.

I cried because I feel like I lost a year and some change putting her to bed and leaving her to self soothe, rather than basking in the moment. I watched how beautiful she looked while she so peacefully lay there, slow-blinking, and then shooting them back wide open to make sure I’m really still there, then slow-blinking them shut again. A step that she repeated over and over until she gave into sleep.

I stood there and soaked it all up. The way she picked her nose until she was almost asleep and then switched it up to her hands behind her head flipping away at her earlobes instead. The way her hand fell down to her stuffed monkey to make sure it was still there after she closed her eyes for the night. The way she said “Mommy?” when she sensed me backing away.

The way I succumbed to her needs and laid on the floor by the crib with my arm between the rails and held her hand until it was limp and her breathing heavied.

When she was out for the count I carefully tip toed away, I closed her door, went straight to my husband, buried my face and I cried even more. Why didn’t I do this more often? Why did I wait this long? Why haven’t I done this sooner?

I feel like I robbed myself that time because she is so easy at bedtime that I didn’t even think to do it. I was so focused on her being an independent sleeper that I missed out on those peaceful moments for so long. I wanted to rewind time and snuggle her more and for even longer. She was breastfed until 6 months old when I started working again so I would normally come in, feed her to sleep and go back to my bed–and she and I were okay with that.

Or at least I thought I was until that moment. I pride myself in thinking I soak in many of these little moments, but clearly–at some point–I slipped. Maybe I feel like being at home all day with her compensates for missing other things. Maybe I am so eager to be able to sit in silence and read a book, fill an order, or watch a show without distractions. Maybe it just became so routine, it didn’t cross my mind until the recent events of her escaping her bed/room that I just laid her down, did our kissy/peekaboo/hair in her face routine, and kiss her again, that it didn’t occur to me that she’d crave for me to stay with her until she fell asleep.

I mean I do it for her older sister a lot of times–but she’s also old enough to ask for it.

And I know that I want to embrace these moments because just as quickly as I wish this phase away of her constantly getting out of bed… gone will be the days she actually wants me to. So until then I’m going to remind myself…

…This is just a phaseshe won’t want this forever.

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Mom's Corner

Motherhood— Nature’s calling? Or straight up Nature?!

I see a crack of light and the silhouette it creates accentuating the beautiful gift God has provided me with– my oldest daughter… who creepily whispers my name early in the morning as she stands motionless in my doorway. OH. MY. GOSH. Why?! That’s right–school… and it’s picture day. That crack of light capturing her silhouette was my eyelids refusing to open as they were reacting to the bright light my daughter turned on.

I cross the rocky terrain that is my living room to reach my destination. The end is in sight (or the beginning, really, for that matter) and I can almost reach the coffee pot… I make it! But not unscathed by my surroundings as I stepped on a giant LEGO aka “breakfast” that my toddler “made” for me and put ever-so-sweetly in a bowl in my path to the kitchen.

I close my eyes for a [milli]second and listen to my surroundings. I take in the [not so] faint calls of the wild. The monkey’s howl, the lion’s roar, the cow’s moo, the cat’s meow, the sheep’s baaa, the frog’s “bibbit”, and the toddler’s cry! I hear the sounds of an endless flowing river that is Bubble Guppies and Paw Patrol babbling in the background… and I mean never ending and unfortunately somewhat catchy.

The coffee hits me at the same time as my hangry child’s stomach decides to scavenge for a ‘nack. So I plot my escape to the bathroom with a decoy of distraction with piranhas goldfish in a cup over by the couch and I make a break for it! But I am not fast enough. The toddler catches up with me as I’m trying to close the bathroom door and in fear of frightening the toddler and hurting her fingers I give in. She sits there feeding me piranhas goldfish as I do my business –she doesn’t take her eyes off of me.

My nose senses something’s gone awry and knows it’s time to capture the toddler and put her in a new net that catches her waste that is the diaper. But she knows what’s up. So I make my way into her room, grab my tools to clean a bottom and I see her. She lurks around the corner thinking I can’t see what she’s up to. So I back up out of her line of sight and I wait silently. I hear her steps as she creeps closer and out I pop with a playful roar and I tickle her to the ground. It’s all fun and games until she crocodile rolls away with remnants of poo on her rump. Not today, tiny human! Not today.

She’s fought long and hard and is ready to give in. But not before she pulls on my pant legs, plays with her food, pulls her sissy’s hair, fights with the floor, cries out for “douche“–which I translate as juice, colors on sissy’s homework, eats her prey dinner, gives me kisses, and says “nigh-night“.

Finally. Time for myself. I sit, close my eyes, and listen. No more roars, “bibbits”, or cries. No more rough, LEGO-breakfast terrain to trench through. No more secret passwords I mean…terrible, new-age math homework. No more toddler-chaperoned trips to the bathroom. No more hugs. No more “I love you mom“s. No more bodies in my arms to snuggle.

The day is done. My heart is full. And even with the chaos-clad days I have I still want to wake those sleeping beasts for just another kiss.

But I know what awaits tomorrow so for now I’ll take my rest.

So as the light closes on the horizon that are my eyelids– I sleep.

Uncategorized

Damaged goods- I miss the Me that only knew the good

Do you remember what you were like before you were ever damaged? Before life hit us with bricks named reality?

I miss the me that came before reality. When I actually believed that I am enough. I am not just damaged goods.

There are days I long for my youth. My innocence. When all I knew was that I was taken care of and I didn’t have any cares of what else this world had to offer except that I was going to be a singer and make lots of money! And be super rich!

I was going to grow up, get married, have kids, get rich and take care of everyone I love.

…Until I wasn’t. And am still not.

I miss the me before my first love heartbreak. That loved the guy I tried to love and love again, just to be hurt, hurt again, and then ultimately broken. When I knew how to fully trust a person without insinuating allegations over minuscule things. Who, despite all the crappy relationships I fell into, still trusted someone enough to marry them and start a family, that ultimately led to more trust issues and belittlement– and ended.

I miss the me who didn’t worry about what to wear or how much I should or shouldn’t weigh. When black and white striped shorts totally went well with a pink and purple polka dotted shirt and kids wouldn’t make fun of me for it. When I didn’t compare my own unique beauty to those around me– and then feel less beautiful because of it.

I miss the me before I had kids. Not in the sense that I have lost myself, more so in the sense that I worry so much more--about bad people, bullies, rapists, murderers, other drivers on the road and what other people are capable of doing to them if I even take my eyes off of them for one second. I worry about myself and beating myself up about more than my looks, but now about my parenting skills (or lack thereof). Am I doing this right? Are my kids happy? Should I do this or that? Can they see that I have no idea what I’m really doing and that I’m just winging it, most days, just to get through the day? Or that I am nowhere near as neat and organized as my mother was? And probably never will be.

I miss not having to worry about the bad in this world.

Because although I didn’t get it right the first time, I have found a love that mirrors mine. Who–even though, I have trust issues, anxiety and many insecurities–still loves me for me. Someone who would move mountains and help me carry my baggage and burdens. I have someone who sees the good in me and knows that I am enough.

…Even though lately all I see is bad.

I miss the me that only knew the good.

The good in this world.

The good in other people.

The good in me.

Mom's Corner

To the Mom who…

To the new mom

…who thinks she has no idea what she’s gotten herself into. That feels like you’ll never know what a full nights sleep is like ever again. That never knew what your heart is capable of loving. Who has given up her body to create a new tiny body and is feeling self conscious about it. The ones who have tried everything to get their baby to stop crying and has to put their baby down and walk away for a few minutes. Who even though she wants to close her eyes from being up tending to a fussy baby for hours, still lies awake to watch the rise and fall of their baby’s chest.

I know.

To the working mom

…who wakes up at 6am to shower, get ready (maybe), make breakfast for her kids, get them ready for school, and then off to daycare. Who wishes she spent more hours of the day with the tiny people she’s made from scratch, than with people who would replace her if she died tomorrow. Who clocks out, picks them up from two different locations, goes home, makes dinner, tidies up (ish… or doesn’t) the house, maybe gets to eat her food warm with her family, then bathes and puts the kids to bed before maybe having time for herself or her husband.

I know.

To the stay at home mom

…who wakes up to human alarm clocks just to make breakfast that they asked for but really didn’t want. Who cleans dirty faces, hands and diapers all day. The ones getting sick, then better, then sick again because the other kids catches it–so clearly you need to catch it again too, because it’s only fair. The ones who clean up 3 or 4 times, just for it to look like a tornado hit right before dad walks in. The ones getting all “felt up” by kids and toddlers all day and then at the end of the day crave adult attention and communication or even just some peace and quiet to try and do the things you tried to do all day but couldn’t.

I know.

To the military mom

…who would put their lives on the line for their country even if that means leaving their families behind just so they can live a better life. The ones who make sacrifice after sacrifice year after year to do what the military tells them when the military tells them with very little say. The ones who say goodbye to their little ones for months that feel like years with an ache in their heart only a mother would feel. Who go to the CDC on base during their lunch to see their babies–even if they’re sleeping–and lay/eat with them because you miss them.

I know.

To the military spouse mom

…who also sacrifices a lot to be with and without her family. Who knows the true meaning of “It takes a village“–because without that village you’d lose your mind. Who leaves the rest of her family to support her new family in all their endeavors to come. Yet wishes her parents/siblings could be around her kids more often. The ones that hold down the fort at home because sometimes it’s impossible to maintain a career anywhere because you know in just a few short years you’re going to have to leave that career/company behind because you’re moving overseas.

I know.

To the mom of a child with special needs

…who work overtime as a parent of even just one child because patience alone is hard to come by some days. Who are afraid to tackle certain everyday tasks in public in fear an episode or health issue may arise. Who secretly wishes someone would volunteer to help her even just so she can do some laundry, without fear of asking in hopes someone doesn’t question her abilities as a mom. The ones that cry for their child because this world is an ugly place and no matter what you do there’s no escaping it. That cry because they feel like they’ve done any and everything they possibly can and it still isn’t comforting their child.

As a mom to friends with special needs children who has been there for them on their “bad days“.

I know.

To the mom who has it all figured out

…good for you. Just kidding! I wish I were you because.

I do not know.

And to all the moms

…who feel under appreciated, stressed to the maximum capacity, drained, alone, stranded–even if you feel like it’s all in your mind. Who get so fed up at times–just to look at their innocent faces and realize no matter how bad the times–it is all so worth it.

Just remember there’s a village of us out there who have either been there, are passing through, or know someone who has.

And we know.

Mom's Corner

Me, my kids, and a Chic Fil A bathroom stall–A story of my almost-meltdown

So today I ran an errand just myself with the kids, and since they were so good I treated them (okay, I treated myself) to Chic fil a. We ate, then the girls played and then let me tell you what happened.

Chaos.

My family has been hit with some kind of sinus/icky/head-cold, something. My oldest was the last to get it and the other day she had a pretty good nosebleed because she doesn’t know how to leave her nose alone. It was a posterior nose bleed so those look like you’re going to bleed out forever. WELL! It decided to happen again today while we were there and just about to leave. I told her to run to the bathroom and get in a stall and I’ll be in there in just a minute. So I got to the table, where I had just strapped my youngest into the highchair to finish up some nuggets before we left, packed up our belongings really quick, grabbed the girls’ shoes (yeah, she ran into the bathroom shoeless, but she was bleeding everywhere!) and rolled my youngest in her highchair to a booth closest to the bathroom. I opened the bathroom door and slid her shoes into the stall she was in, and then popped right back out to pick up my toddler to go and help out big sissy. I told her to open the stall door and let us in and OH MY GOSH.

Blood.

EVERYWHERE!

On the toilet seat, the floor, the toilet paper dispenser, dripping down her arms, the freaking wall! It just wouldn’t stop! I tried my best to clean it up as we were getting her face situated and just like trick birthday candles the blood just kept reappearing. I bet the people in the dining area were wondering what the hell was going on in that bathroom because all you could hear was flush, clunk, flush, “come back here!”, flush, door slam, flush, crying, flush, clunk, flush, screaming, flush, “get off the floor!”, flush… over and over..

My toddler was initially trying so hard to help her big sister by trying to get more toilet paper for her to dam up sissy’s nostrils. But since I didn’t want her covered in blood like the rest of the bathroom I had to keep telling her “No!“. Cue the crying and the tantrum-ing! I now had one kid covered in blood, and another kid covered in public restroom cooties! So not only was there blood everywhere but there were also little, itty-bitty, confetti-sized toilet paper shreds all over the floor.

At one point another lady came in and had to take a number two and the poor lady not only had to deal with the madness that was happening in the stall next to hers, but also with my toddler trying to join in on her potty adventures from under the stall walls trying to start up some baby babble small talk.

Then my toddler figured out how to open the stall doors because she watched me as I was leaving the stall to gather something with a little more durability, like paper towels instead of melt-in-your-hands public restroom toilet paper, with some soap! She also managed to smash her fingers somehow between the two different stall doors. Cue more screaming! And I had to keep apologizing as I was walking back and forth from the stall to the sink to another lady waiting on one of the two stalls to free up while this is all going on. Some luck she had–either a stall that was just covered in blood or a fresh stinky poo-poo stall.

But bless this woman’s heart, she saved my my sanity. My youngest walked up to her with tears in her eyes and her snot clad face, she looked up at the lady, waved, and said “hiiii” in the saddest voice ever. The lady bent down and just started engaging with her. She kindly told me if I’m okay with it she was willing to stand there and try and keep her company if she’d let her. Luckily my oldest’s face decided to finally clot and stop bleeding just in time. So I cleaned her up as best as I could, and sent her to the sink to wash her hands and face.

And I stood there, paper towels in hand, taking in the lovely mess that almost robbed me of my sanity and took a deep breath, cleaned up the blood from the toilet, walls, floor, etc, and blew all the toilet paper scraps into one measly pile and gave my last bit of effort to pick those up too.

I walked out of that stall (lady doo-doo was still in stall number two) and thanked that very kind woman for helping me out and that I was sorry she had to wait so long. She said “Honey, you’re doing the best you can, and you kept calm, us grandmas were once moms too, you know! You and your beautiful girls take care now.”

We were in that bathroom at least 25 minutes between the start of the nosebleed, to me finishing up my janitorial duties and finally washing my hands. I had so many eyes fixated on me when we walked out– arms full with a toddler on my hip, a bag of food and a drink in one hand, my purse across my body and a diaper bag on my back and escorting my oldest through the restaurant. But yet, thanks to that wonderful woman, I was not embarrassed, because I was doing the best that I can.

And that is all that matters.

 

 

Mom's Corner

My kids stayed with grandma for the night… and I felt lost.

So I turn 30 in 3 days.

…I mean 2 days (12:08am)

So my husband treated me to a night out. We went to a bar that had an amazing band and we went with a couple of friends we hadn’t seen in a while. And an hour into the night and I’m texting my mother in law to watch for my toddlers breathing because she was coughing funny earlier that morning. I wanted to enjoy my kid-free night so I waited for her response and I put my phone away.

I documented some of the night on Snapchat and didn’t do much else. We had a few drinks, played a game of bags (aka cornhole), and danced.

I looked at my phone again at 12:14am and replied to confirm that the kids were staying the night at grandmas house. We went home, watched some tv, and didn’t have to tiptoe or whisper.

But I did it anyway.

I was subconsciously doing mom things. I peeked inside my youngest’s room, I panicked for a quick second wondering if I forgot to go downstairs to read my oldest a bedtime story–until I remembered she wasn’t here. We aren’t used to having the house to ourselves. I’m not used to the kids not being around. I enjoyed the alone time with my husband. But I never felt so lost all at the same time.

I can do date nights. I can go hours away from my kids (although I do admit being away from my kids more and more the older I get, sucks!). But this whole overnight thing got to me. I love being the one who puts my toddler to bed and plays peek a boo with her blankie for a few extra minutes and kiss her little toes while she tickles her face with my hair. I love one on one time with my oldest while I tuck her in, read her a story and tickle her back. Or watch tv with her until she falls asleep with me on the couch.

That’s my job.

Yes I know. I know grandmas and aunties are fully capable of watching over my kids. I could not ask for better grandmas and aunties (and uncles) for my girls. But speaking of jobs, lately, working full time hadn’t been fulfilling. I had been looking left and right as to why that is and what it is that I’ve been missing out on. I have been home for a couple of weeks being solely a mom. A mom, a homemaker, a wife.

And I have never been so fulfilled at any other job as I have felt while being home with my kids being able to spend precious, frustrating, undivided, time with them.

So last night while I was out enjoying my husband and my kids were safe, playing with family, I was also missing my kids. I missed my mommy duties.

But I also missed having alone time with my husband. I already had a kid when we met. So we’ve never really had that “just us” phase of our relationship. He gladly, without hesitation, jumped into a relationship with us two and stepped up to be the man and father he didn’t have to be. We rarely get date nights so I am thankful when we get them.

The ugly side of this all is that no matter what I do I feel guilty. Guilty that I’m missing my kids when its just us on a date night, guilty that I don’t get to be with my husband alone more often, guilty that my kids went to bed without me, guilty that I even feel guilty at all!

So I felt lost without my kids. So what? I’d get lost in the chaos of motherhood over and over again just to be able to re-experience the exhilaration of it all.

So I need to let my kids enjoy their other family members so that I can enjoy some time with my wonderful husband. Guilt free time. I need to let them get to know their family better. It’s not like they dread it. They enjoy going to see everyone. They love playing with our family and their cousins. I need to give myself a break step back from mom duties, even for one whole night.

Wife hat, mom hat. One piled on the top of the other. I can do it. I can find my way through motherhood without getting lost.

Life change

5 Steps to take to be your HAPPIEST you, yet

Okay, so I could start this off with affirmations. “Tell yourself this” or “Tell yourself that”–and say it out loud!

But I won’t. Because that doesn’t work for everybody.

Me in particular. But I will say, even on my absolute worst days. I am still happy (or at the very least I appear to be). Here’s how I do it so that you can, too:

I let shit go (most of it anyway)

Kind of like when you go number two. You don’t reflect back on it. You let it out, and you let it go. Its toxic waste that you don’t need in your body or your mind. I get mad, I get irritated, I get frustrated, and boy do I get annoyed— but I never hold onto it. Especially when it comes to the people in my life. Life is way to short to stay angry with someone. So take that anger, the animosity, the grudge, the jealousy… and flush that shit down the toilet. You don’t need it!

My glass is half full

I can take any situation and find the positive in it. My oldest is the same way and I love that so much about her. If you have hit rock bottom, there is a way out. You can only go up from there. Ask me. If I don’t know how or why something has happened to you (or me) I will–one way or another–figure out a way to help or make things better or help you come to a conclusion. Yes, I do this with myself too. I am an over thinker so I have to talk myself off of ledges alllll the time, and most of the time I end up finding a happy resolution… because I need it.  Not everyone is going to give it to me.

I compliment people

Be kind. I try not to let anyone who leaves my presence leave feeling as low as they had initially appeared to me. I like to refurbish them. I do my best to shove a little sunshine into people’s lives. If I like something about someone, I say it. “I like your face” goes a long way. Try it. They may laugh and say “Thanks” or they may walk away a little perplexed at what the heck you just said to them, but I promise it will leave a lasting impression and they’ll think about that odd compliment until they pass out for bed.

Okay, story time! So I have a kid (two actually, but this one in particular), and kids kind of just say whats on their minds. No filter. Well we were at Walmart (and if you have heard of the People of Walmart you know where I’m going with this), and she was staring at this older lady behind us in the checkout line–she was morbidly obese–and she wouldn’t stop staring. So praying to God she doesn’t open her mouth and just say something embarrassing (like kids usually do) I whispered “Its not very polite to stare at people.” And as my “judgy” self is watching her mouth open up, still making eye contact with that woman, and I’m hoping a hole in this floor will open up and eat me alive because I swear she’s about to say something embarrassing–she opens her mouth to speak and says “I really like your shirt and your matching necklace“.

Wait, what?? She was four at the time. Four!

Now I know I said I compliment people, and in this case, it appears I had judged before I could say anything nice about this woman, but if you have kids you have to be prepared for them to speak the obvious… and that’s where I thought this was going. Moving on.

I understand and overcome

I know that when people lash out, its not always personal. An angry customer on the phone may want to swear up and down about something they’re not happy about, but its not my fault. They’re angry at the product, not at me. Someone may be at rock bottom, and even though you may approach them with ease and the intention of being polite they may want nothing to do with it… and will show it. Everyone fights different battles. Its not your place to judge whether or not your battle is worse. Their day is not your day. Their life is not your life. Understand that its not personal. People just need to find an outlet and whether or not you’re the problem, you may be their target. Smile, and move along. Do not hold onto it. I also understand that my life is not, and will never be, perfect. If I expect it to be, and its not… that’s me letting myself down. The same goes for you. All the chaos that is, has, and is yet to come is what shapes your character. Understanding how to handle and manage it will help you get through and overcome it.

and last but far from the least

I smile all the time

Even when I’m on the phone. They may not see it but the recipient is able to hear it in your voice. I promise. I don’t know how many times I have heard “It was a pleasure speaking with you” or “Thank you for brightening my day“. And its because I have every intent on making even hard conversations, tolerable. There may be days where I’m at work crying over some battle with myself in my head, then the phone rings, or my manager calls me over, and I brush it off and smile. 95% of the time most people wouldn’t know I have the struggles that I have had in my life because of a simple smile. And really, its none of their business anyway.

So that’s it.

Five easy ways to have a happier lifestyle. Kindness is free, people. Be gentler with others and be easy on yourself.

Trust me– I’m not this big ball of sunshine at all times. I just don’t carry my baggage  with me wherever I go. My lucky husband gets to deal with my gray skies once in a while. 😉

 

-cheers!
cropped-daily-coffee-with-kids.png

Tasty Food

Hot Dish: An “anything goes” one-dish meal (Fun story & recipe included!)

Hot Dish: An “anything goes” one-dish meal, commonly known in the upper Midwest.

What in the world right? That’s pretty vague. I did some more research and outside of the Midwest it would be considered a casserole. HOWEVER– the reverse is not true. A casserole isn’t considered a hot dish. We still call green bean casserole, green bean casserole- not green bean hot-dish.

Or wait.. I mean that would just mean its a freaking hot dish.

These suckers are typically called just that– A hot dish. Not spaghetti hot dish, not tater tot hot dish, not whatever-I-wanted-to-put-in-this hot dish. JUST…hot dish. It typically contains a starch, a meat, and a canned or frozen vegetable mixed with canned soup. The only time I’ve seen it referred to any specific ingredient (forgive me if I’m wrong) is when I look up “hot dish recipe” on Pinterest.

Here’s another true story:

The first time I ate hot dish was when I was visiting my boyfriend’s (now husband) family and his mom made it for dinner. I didn’t question it. She pulled it out of the oven and it looked to me like baked spaghetti. “Cool! I can do this, I like spaghetti“, I thought. It was delicious! So a few days go by, we go to his sister’s house who had just had a baby, and she offers up some hot dish that a neighbor brought over as a kind gesture. She says its in the fridge. Score! More baked spaghetti! 

Wrong.

I open this fridge and I’m looking all over, moving things, don’t see it. So I ask where it is. She tells me where, and what its in, so I pull it out to pop the lid off and put it in the microwave. But before I do that, I [naturally] look at it. What is this?! I mean it looks good, but it’s definitely not baked spaghetti (this time its creamy, with tater tots, and pasta). “What’s this?”, I ask.

Hot Dish“, she replies.

What?!

So moving on… Last night I was able to start dinner without a toddler pulling my pants down and wanted to find a quick, easy recipe with the few ingredients I knew I had. So what did I do? I went on Pinterest and searched “hot dish recipes“. And what do you know? To my surprise, not every recipe was labeled only hot dish (>.<). I found one called an Amish Hot Dish (click to see actual recipe). Seemed a little bit on the random side, but isn’t that what a hot dish is? Dinner Roulette? It shows the ingredients in grams (and I can’t figure that stuff out) so I used Google’s conversion calculator.

I’m also someone who doesn’t measure anything when I cook (unless its to make cookies…. then I just don’t follow the baking time, like I say here). So this is how I modified it (the main ingredients are what makes the flavor so delicious anyway), and maybe I’ll do it the right way, but until then, my rendition was delicious! Make sure you follow it step.by.step! I hope you enjoy it!

 

How to Make Buttermilk Fried Chicken

Mom's Corner

A Letter to My Oldest Child ♥

S

weet girl,

The moment I found out I was pregnant with you, I was scared. Scared that God had trusted that in that point in time of my life I was ready for you.

Or maybe that I needed you…

That, I did. I needed you.

The second I saw you on that ultrasound screen, everything around me disappeared. (Literally, because happy tears formed in my eyes and fell down my face). I was in a world of my own and while I was scared up until that point- I no longer was. I looked forward to every pregnancy milestone with you. (Even though I was really hoping for a boy 😉 ).

When I knew you were ready to make your debut, and got to the hospital all I could worry about at that point in time was getting you out. The pain I endured during labor with you felt unbearable.

Until you were here.

Everything I read, or learned, or thought I would know about love, left my brain and was replaced with reality. The realization that no book I had read had the instruction manual to figure out what I’d need to know to mother you. The realization that no matter what kind of love I had experienced before you would prepare me for the second I laid my eyes on you. The love I felt for you surpassed them all.

You taught me how to love. You taught me how to be a mother. You taught me new levels of frustration as I’d sit up at night with you not knowing how to take away your tears. You are my first truest love.

Although you now have a sister who needs me just as much, and I watch you with a little jealousy pinging in your little heart. I want you to know, that no matter what, I will love you just as much as I ever have and I will love you just as much until the day I leave this earth, and then some more.

Nothing in this world can take away the love that I have for you. Nothing will ever replace our memories (mainly my memories since you were too little to remember the same things I do). Although, I ache for you to be little again, I love our time now. Watching you grow into a young lady, being a phenomenal big sister, makes my heart swell with pride. I look at you and, without fail, feel such an overwhelming love that I could burst into tears at any moment.

I look at you and I still see the baby, the toddler, the little girl you once were. I look at you and wish I had more time to love you as you were a baby. I look at you and kick myself for the things I wish I would have done differently.

I love you. With every fiber in my body.

You were my first, you will always be my first, you will always be my baby.

Love, Mommy ♥

#thecoffeemom