Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Friday, September 26, 2008
I'm sure you have noticed by now that I refuse to use the term "short bus." I do, I refuse to use it because of the warped friends I have that will convulse into a ball on the floor of hysterical laughter if I do. Damn city friends, go to Starbucks and buy me a latte, it will make you feel a lot better about laughing at me, well, I'll feel a lot better about you laughing at me .
You know I really wonder what it says about a person when her best friends are the first people to laugh at her and get their kicks at her expensive?
It says they are the greatest, I'd do the same thing.
OK back on track, after getting the oldest of my cowboy babies on the bus I checked my email. Not for any particular reason, that Cowboy Soldier of mine won't be writing, he's still in NM going through WTC training (learning the Army way since he's ex Navy). Last I heard from him he was learning the hand to hand combat mixed martial arts stuff. Ahhhhhhhh Young grasshopper, your Kung Foo is no match for my rockets. ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!
Thanks Alvin and the Chipmunks movie. My life was not complete til your one liners came into it.
This kick butt little recipe was among the contents of my inbox this early am. Since I'm not much of a send every fwd I get type person, I thought I would share it here.
Disclaimer: I have not tried it yet. I was going to have it for breakfast, Shushhh I'm emotional eating here, thank you! Of course, wouldn't you know it I'm out of cocoa. I can't run to the store and get some either. For one, I only run if someones chasing me! For two, I'm still waiting for the military to decided that it's been long enough my husband needs paid, so I'm grounded. Living here, you do not venture out unless planning on filling the tank when the trucks gas gauge is in the red.
Finially, Here's the recipe. Provided you haven't already scrolled to the bottom to check it out because you where too tired of me getting sidetracked.
If you try it, please leave us all a comment below so we know how it went with you being the taste tester. OH, Don't forget to take the spoon out of the cup. That would really lead to disaster and I won't be held accountable for you blowing up your microwave or atleast causing a nuker meltdown.
5 MINUTE CHOCOLATE MUG CAKE
4 tablespoons flour
4 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons cocoa
3 tablespoons milk
3 tablespoons oil
3 tablespoons chocolate chips (optional) a small splash of vanilla extract
1 large coffee mug
Add dry ingredients to mug, and mix well. Add the egg and mix thoroughly.
Pour in the milk and oil and mix well. Add the chocolate chips (if using)
and vanilla extract, and mix again.
Put your mug in the microwave and cook for 3 minutes at 1000 watts. The
cake will rise over the top of the mug, but don't be alarmed! Allow to cool
a little, and tip out onto a plate if desired.
This can serve 2 if you want to feel slightly more virtuous. But Why?!
It's fall now, be a bear and put on your winter layer of fat. It will make the holy crap it's cold this winter seem so much more tollerable.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
I've been fine, which anyone who knows me really isn't a big surprise, I handle military separations pretty well. The kids have been my biggest surprise. Last time cowboy left for any amount of time was while he was active duty Navy and we only had our then barely 3yrs old, now he's an 8yr old. The boys have been fantastic, I knew kids where resilient but wow. That was up until today. Middle little (age 4) has been climbing into bed with me about halfway through the night, no real surprise there and no big deal. Then it started catching my attention.
Many years ago when cowboy and I were dating I lived about six hours from where he was stationed in Norfolk, VA. Weekends where my life. He'd come up right after work Fri. and leave as late as he possibly could on Sunday and still make it back in time to report to the ship. If he was going to be gone for anymore than the week, he'd always leave me a shirt. Usually a nice pressed and starched button up he was wearing, he'd put extra cologne on it and that's what I snuggled with and had near me when I slept. Sounds silly, but when you are used to sleeping with your head on a barrel chested cowboy, laying on his shirt and having that faint smell of him can really help when he's gone. Well, three weeks ago when he left, just like always, I've got my cowboy shirt to cuddle along with my pillow.
Middle little started last night taking the shirt from me and rubbing it on his cheek and sleeping with his head on it. Today at nap time, he cuddles with the cowboy shirt and then I hear the sniffles. My boy is having a hard time now. When asked why he's crying he simply says he doesn't know between sobs, sniffles and snuffles, he doesn't know if daddy's ever coming home, ouch that's a stab to the heart of a mommy. Try as I could I tried to explain how much longer daddy was going to be gone, I showed on the calender, I counted with him and the wheels are turning in his little head but it's just not registering.
I've been watching him, giving him extra hugs and attention when I can with chasing after his little brother and helping his older brother with school stuff. Then today it his new identity appeared. I give you Capt. Pickles.
I know, why Capt. Pickles? "Cuz that's my name" is the answer I got. Who am I to argue with simple reasoning such as that. Also, bit of info on the child... He LOVES pickles! He loves monkeys, hence the Curious George security blanket as a cape, he love tractors and now GI Joe, but he really likes pickles. It doesn't matter what kind either, sweet, dill, even the sweet spicy ones. It's not uncommon for him and Cowboy to sit down and polish off a jar of pickles in a couple sittings.
Playing super hero is a very common play thing for little fellers. My oldest used to tie his security blanket around his shoulders and run around being Super Cody. He'd wake up every morning, come running downstairs yelling Doot doo doo, Super Cody. I love imaginations. I've been known to draw treasure maps and send the little pirates with ice cream buckets on their heads on a treasure hunt. I'm also the one who printed off the pickle clip arts that are glued on his pickle glasses that give him his "pickle power" I must admit though, I am kind of thinking about the child Psychy on this one.
Is it a mere coincidence that Capt. Pickles comes to be at a time when my child is having a very hard time with daddy being away. Could this be a coping mechanism for his sadness of being a military child. Capt. Pickle's super powers are he's brave and strong. Oh yea, he zooms too. Zoom would be... bending your body in half, stretching your arms out behind you as you run and try not to fall on your face or run into any walls because you are looking at the ground as you run. I'm going along with it for now, it seems to be helping him with the sadness he's been having the past day and being his powers are to be brave and strong he's doing what he needs to do till daddy gets home. When the cape and glasses come off Capt Pickles disappears too, he's right back to being my middle little, which is a good thing. I have a strict no capes at the supper table rule.
I do wonder if in a few weeks if that handsome soldier of mine is going to be greeted at the airport by Middle Little, Zooooooooooooooom, Capt. Pickles! Wonder what airport security will think of that?
Monday, September 22, 2008
Picture qualities will hopefully be better in the next year as that darlin roughrider cowboy of mine promised me a new, awesome camera. I have a witness that he promised it too. So, cowboy you aren't getting out of it this time, and no you can't buy it for me and then take it with you when you deploy. So there.
This coming winter will be my third up here and I'd like to go on the record of saying, My blood is still too thin for the cold and wind. I keep hearing that you get used to it. I don't buy it. Sure you might be used to it if you where born here, as a wee cherub you got accustomed to holy crap that's cold, cover every inch of my skin. OH, I feel for poor little ones born in the winter, you think they where crying because they are babies, nuh uh they're screaming because they want put back in their warm little cocoons of mommy's tummy and emerge in spring like most cute cuddly creatures. I might sound bitter (like bitter cold, ha) about the winter, but I roll with the punches. I burrow into my comfy home and deal. Because the wide open spaces, friendly Mayberry sorta people and morals and ethics still abundant out here make cold winters worth it when raising my boys.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
It's taken over a week, and we are officially in the swing of doing things around here minus the barrel chested man of the house. Sure, we miss him and he wonders into our thoughts through out the day, but emotional moments are dwindling as each day goes by and bed time can go off with out whimpers of "I wish daddy was here." OH, tug tug at the heart strings
I'm glad that we are settling in to the separation because come tomorrow is when the hard part begins.
All except for one night so far, that cowboy soldier of mine has been able to call every night, if only for a brief moment, to tell us he loves us and misses us, and listen to a quick 10 second recap of all the events of a school day of an eight year old. After tonight that will all change. He won't be able to call.
At oh my lord, people should not be waking up this early in the morning, he gets on a bus and leaves OK to head for the middle of the desert of NM. What lies ahead is 4 weeks of this is the Army and this is the way it's done training. Hey at least it's not full boot camp, it's what I call mini-boot camp. Besides intense working out he gets to do the cool stuff, like hand to hand training and my personal favorite, guns and grenades.
Heck Yeah. Wonder if I could just do that part. They can keep the other stuff, I don't like getting yelled at, I might cry. Nobody wants to see a fluffy mother of 3 boys cry. so maybe they'll hold my coconut cookie and let me blow something up. Maybe? Possibly? Yeah, I didn't think so.
Can you imagine what it would look like if they let us moms of small children go and blow stuff up. You think big burly men do damage...HA HA HA! Try taking a handful of sleep deprived, stressed out mother's out somewhere with explosives to relax and blow off some steam.
We have battle training. Our lives are battles of; no you can't climb up the wall like spiderman as the child runs full tilt into the wall, stop swinging from the handheld shower hose, you are not Curious George, stopping one from diving off the back of the couch onto a single pillow, while another is seeing how many crayons can be shoved up it's nose to see if the end result is rainbow snot.
You think these men learn how to run, duck and cover. Try making a batch of cookies which are NOT for the household and get them on the plate, covered, out the door and into the truck without your children, snagging the plate, tackling you along the way and hog tieing you with kite string or socks they accidentally on purpose left in the sandbox the whole time fighting off a wee one that's climbing up your leg like a spider monkey. Small children have strange powers, do not underestimate them. Now this is the regular day of a mom with small babes, that's good training for something, but what?
Oh yeah! Teenagers.
So, honey! Blow something up for me, Your baby has discovered how to open doors.
It's bath and bedtime though. Battle stations Ladies.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Hello, my dears. Yes I'm still around. Obviously, that goodygasm coconut cookie recipe didn't post itself, then yet again, my house does have pixies in it, maybe they posted it.
For real I swear it does. Well, I prefer to think that I have some some sort of little mischievous fairy realm creatures over the other option...I'm haunted. wooooooooooooo. bwaaa haaa haaa. Sorry Halloween is coming and I figure I'll get a head start on it.
You see, every so often toys in the toy room start going off, meaning Elmo garages start repeating "oil change and a tune up, beep beep" or See & Says start quacking or mooing. That one got bad enough I took the batteries out. I've hollered in the nicest, adjust my halo, motherly voice for my kids to stop throwing and slamming their toys into the toy box then kids run in the door asking what was that mom, as they couldn't hear because they where outside playing.
Funniest yet, waking cowboy up to figure out what's making the noise in the bookshelf and listening and watching him try and get his land legs because once he's asleep he's OUT. Then grabbing the flashlight, stepping on some inky dink kids toy and look in the bookshelf for what we assumed would be a mouse, but the noise continued while he was looking and shining the light right where it was coming from and no mouse. He closes the bookshelf door after it stopped thinking finally my wife will leave me alone about "what's that" and I can go back to sleep.
Yes, I'm telepathic I can read my husband's mind thank you.
But he only made it a few steps and the noise begins again. So what does he do? I know you are just dieing to know. He does what any good caveman would do, he pounds his big macho construction man fist on the bookshelf door grumbling something from a language I'm sure he learned in the Navy and swaggers himself back to bed. Whispering in the sweetest tone that it's OK, go back to sleep to the baby, stopping to tuck the blankie back under my youngest cherubs chin.
Once in bed again, the noise starts again and I got the giggles poking him in the side about it. He just kicked his big foot out the bed and stomped the floor this time, telling me to "Go to sleep woman." And, giggle giggle I did. OK, I admit that one probably was a mouse, but it was funny, watching cowboy do anything right after waking before he's prepared to is always funny.
I'm Irishly stubborn standing by my theory that since I'm probably the only Scotch-Irish lass living in this very German, Scandinavian area that I have fairies, pixies, Imp's some sort of Celtic creatures flitting about my house over the fact that somebodies great great uncle died here. Shiver...hello pixies.
You see, I'm fine, so to speak. Upon reading what I just wrote that might mean I'm completely off my rocker. I don't think I am, but if you do... Feel free to send me to the loony bin, but if I do go, I'm taking the one who owns a "tippy table" with me, because she's loco too.
So, there it is. I've survived my first week of my hubby being gone except for not having him to chase odd sounds and fasten my top cartilage earring when I popped it out while doing my hair and try as I could even in contortionist ways I couldn't fasten it. I have survived and not a blubbering bawling mess.
Kids have adjusted awesomely. I am so proud of how well they are doing and life goes on.
5 more weeks to go, well this time, Jauary we start again, and then July or Aug the "Big one" over a year. I'll think about that tomorrow, in my best Scarlett O'Hara voice.
Remember: Hug your kids and spouse.
The loco ND Mama
Saturday, September 13, 2008
So, if you like coconut cookies these are goodygasm guaranteed.....they are both crispy and chewy and oh lordy good.
Now, it's not like I've made it my life long mission to create the perfect coconut cookie or anything. I do enjoy them though, but unlike a lot of people I don't like my cookies with a lot of extra funky things for texture or color. So, this is just what it says coconut cookies, no white choc. chips, no macadamia nuts, no cherry halves on top. Though feel free to add any or all of the above if you so wish. I just like basics though. These are definitely going to become a Christmas cookie must have. I'm sure like most coconut cookies these will probably freeze well too. Enough chit chat though, here it is...
Chewy Coconut Cookies
1 1/4 Cups All Purpose Flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 Cup butter (room temp.)
1/2 Cup packed Brown Sugar
1/2 Cup white Sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract (for intense coconut flavor, use coconut extract)
2 Cups Flaked Coconut (I use sweetened)
Preheat oven to 350 degrees
Combine the flour, baking soda and salt in a bowl.
In your mixer, I love my Kitchen Aid, cream the butter, brown sugar and white sugar till creamy like most starts to cookie doughs.
With mixer on low - med low, beat in the egg and vanilla till nice and combined.
This time make sure mixer is on low... slowly add it the flour mixture till fully combined and then add the coconut.
I use a teaspoon full per cookie and drop them on an ungreased cookie sheet making sure to leave a few inches in between.
Bake 12 -15 minutes till they are nice and light toasty brown.
Cool on rack. But don't forget to eat one once cooled to the touch just to make sure they are good enough for the kids and done all the way through.
P.S. Sorry bout the pictures being so bright, didn't take into consideration sunshine on the baby's head. oops.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Deep Breath, here we go again.
This morning at 0600 holding myself together best I could I watched the love of my life walk out the door of our hotel room in the city, going to catch a plane to begin his six week training of WTC.
I've known this was coming, I've been fine. I was fine this morning till my oldest hugged his dad and I saw the tears start running down his cheeks. That was it, I was done, tough as I am I can't watch one of my babes cry and not start bawling myself.
I'm not very much of a cryer either and I really don't cry in front of people very often, especially my kids. So, a few tears, comfort my oldest, hugs and cuddle all three, pull myself together and load up the truck and come home.
The 65 mile drive home was rather quiet, partially do to it was 7 o'clock in the morning and my kids were going back to sleep and partially because my oldest and myself where deep in thought. The younger two I think where not sure how to feel or react. The baby doesn't have a clue and middle little knows, but at 4 there is really no time conception so when we got home and he casually brings up about daddy coming home tonight, I realized, this is going to be a new experience for me.
I've done the whole, home and gone, home and gone. I've done the little kid asking where's daddy, but my oldest was just turned 3 when my husband got out of the Navy.
Firsts for me now...an eight yr old who's smart as a whip and doesn't miss a thing and now the shell of he's a tough little big cowboy is cracking, the waves of tears have been coming all morning. I comfort the best I can, but hugs and comforting words from mommy when a little guy wants his daddy only helps so much. Another first... A four year old full of questions with answers I don't have and thinking that six weeks means dad will walk through that door every time he asks.
It's the first day. I learned years ago that give me my few boo hoo days, I don't mean sit and bawl all day and be completely unproductive, I mean I'm aloud to be out of sorts for a few days damnit, after which I'll pull myself up by bootstraps and go about making my home and our lives as normal as possible without that missing silhouette of a barrel chested cowboy.
On we go, get yourself back in the swing of things girl, you're a military wife again. Hooah.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
I know, he's too cute! Don't let that adorable grin and big blue eyes fool you though. He's good, real good at getting one over on you. I don't mean the naughty bad sort of things. Like all my boys he's a good boy. OK, all my boys except maybe that tall, big armed mildly cocky cowboy of mine. He can be naughty and bad and have an I don't care what other people think attitude, but that's a different story, different post, different day.
The subject of my rambling today is that adorable, pumpkin headed little Imp up there. That's my "middle little", my 4 yr old, my lovey and cuddly and sometime rather emotional cowboybaby.
We've recently hit the stage in his life when tantrums won't get you your way, try using your smarts which I'm positive he's picked up from his older brother. Oh lord mom here we go again.
Not long ago we went to the county fair. YEAH! Rides, rodeos, fried food, animals, 4 H , need I really go on.
Well, during the fair they had a parade. The best kind of parade when you are a little feller, tons and tons of CANDY. Through my years, no need to say how many, I've been to an abundance of parades. I have to admit, this one might not have been the best in terms of floats and people , no bands, and length wasn't all that great. But, it was hitting the jackpot mother load on getting candy.
I would like to take this moment to thank whomever the nifty people where that threw icee pops. "Thank You" from me and all mothers of inky dink children strapped in strollers in 90 degree weather. Those frozen treats where perfect to keep my littlest cowboybaby Imp from having a melt down.
So, you've got the picture...we got lots of candy. All this was to let you know where the chocolate came from that led to me losing a discussion. I know, where the candy came from is irrelevant but oh well. The debate kind of went like this...
Thump, Thump, Thump! sounds like a baby elephant running down the stairs, middle little doesn't walk...he thumps.
"Mommy can I have a piece of gum?"
"A piece of candy?"
"I said no to candy" that would be me, unwisely thinking that would end the conversation. HA!
"Chocolate's not candy" At this point I should have know, this was not going to end well for me.
" Yes, chocolate is candy and I said No"
"Nuh uh, chocolates not candy, chocolate's chocolate."
I begin to think on that comment and start to realize, he's going to win. Because, technically, even though I know he doesn't know; Chocolate isn't candy as far as I figure. If only I'd thought that 10 seconds ago when I mistakenly placed the all mighty cocoa in the candy category. Chocolate is a ground up bean thingy like coffee, it's a flavoring and it's not used in just deserts and sweets. Go to Hershey PA and they have a spa that will smother you in a chocolate rub and let it dry and it has fantastic effects on your skin. FYI, that would be where I want to go right now for a mommy get-away. Smother me in a chocolate scrub, sprinkle cocoa in my bath while I drink a chocolate martini. OHHH Yeahhhh! Ooops, back to reality.
Looking down I see he hasn't moved. He's standing his ground that chocolate isn't candy and the twinkle in those greyblue eyes tells me he's not giving up on getting something out of that parade bag. So, I give him a bag of pretzels from some politician and off he runs not really realizing what he's done. I do though.
I've been defeated by a four yr old. Sadly for my ego it won't be the last time I'm sure.