Third time's a charm?

Tell me one thing.  What does this photo look like to you?

I have been in baking H. E. L. L.  The whole mess started on Thursday night.  We went shopping for hours for Chad and Tree's housewarming party, and I still had a batch of pumpkin scones to make when we got home.  Needless to say, the recipe turned out to be a low-fat one, and the scones were so disgusting I'm struggling for words to explain.  I am now a firm believer that scones require gobs of butter, sugar, and fat, and that they are no longer a healthful breakfast option.  The whole batch went straight into the trash, and I was left with no head start on my baking (and there's tons of it, mind you).

Fast forward to Friday night, where, after a loooooooong day of school, Nate and I ended up shopping for hours again, after which I was supposed to do a ton of baking.  I was tired, irritable, and ended up stressed about money and baking and life in general...

I spent a good thirty minutes or so trying to roll out some sugar cookie dough for little musical note and guitar-shaped cookies.  Why on earth didn't anyone warn me that the darn dough would stick to everything, including, but not limited to, my counter, the rolling pin, my hands, the wax paper, and the cookie cutter?

I finally threw the cookies into the oven and began gathering supplies for some orange muffins.  After a few minutes, I realized that the kitchen smelled like it was on fire, and I opened the oven door to a.) a giant cloud of smoke, b.) some sort of leak in the oven that was filling the bottom with a white substance, and c.) penis cookies.  Some evil gnome must have sneaked into my oven when I wasn't looking and switched out all those adorable little guitars I had worked so hard cutting out with phallic symbols.  Now tell me what you would do?  (hint: I'm pregnant, so you can imagine how I responded...)

After I pulled out the cookies and screamed for Nate, he realized that I had left the sugar tub on top of the one burner on the stovetop that has a pipe straight into the oven (And why on earth would someone set a sugar tub on the stovetop in the first place?  Again, I'm pregnant...).  The tub had melted, leaking plastic and tons of sugar straight into the stove.  Needless to say, after we turned off the oven and cleared out the smoke, I promptly sat in the middle of the kitchen floor and began to sob (I'm sure you guessed already).  In the meantime, Nate had spotted the cookies and proceeded to laugh for at least 30 minutes straight, snapping photos and sending them to all his guy friends.

After locking myself in the bathroom to weep it out, I finally just gave up.  I mixed up my orange muffin mix, threw it in the fridge, and went to bed.  And here I sit on a Saturday morning, after trying for 45 minutes to clean out my oven, with a mountain of baking to do and no oven in which to bake it.  Because, that's right, most of that sugar melted to the bottom of my oven and has now become one with it.

I guess that will teach me to assume that I should be the official baker for any sort of party, although I'm hoping this whole experience is earning me bonus points in heaven.  It surely isn't helping me win any favor with Nate.

And it will definitely teach me about making guitar cookies...  Just a word of advice - I'd skip the guitar-shaped cookie cutter.  Unless you're baking for a bachelorette party.

Sneak Peek

Okay, just so you know, there's a really good chance that what's hiding in here...

 ... could look a little something like this...

IT'S ME!!!  A rolly little pumpkin who looked just like my dad.

I can't wait to hold my little Milo and see what he's like.  I already know that he likes volleyball and his daddy - he's active as can be when he's around both.  I have a sneaking suspicion that he's already learning to tune out my voice, even when I'm singing at the top of my lungs first thing in the morning.  And I'm hoping that he doesn't pull the 4 a.m. "play with me" wiggling after he's born...

But no matter what, he's bound to be pretty darn adorable.  I mean look at his mommy!

Maya Angelou Day

A few quotes by a very wise woman - Maya Angelou.  I used these in one of my classes yesterday and had to let most of the students out early to clean themselves up in the bathroom - they were all bawling!  Choose your favorite and tell me which one it is and why.

• I've learned that no matter what happens, or how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow.

• I've learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights.

• I've learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you'll miss them when they're gone from your life.

• I've learned that "making a living" is not the same as "making a life."

• I've learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance.

• I've learned that you shouldn't go through life with a catcher's mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw some things back.

• I've learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision.

• I've learned that even when I have pains, I don't have to be one.

• I've learned that every day you should reach out and touch someone.  People love a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back.

• I've learned that I still have a lot to learn.

• I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.

All Points Bulletin

Well, here's the exciting news.  Last night, I had my very first real, true craving.  In fact, it really felt like an emergency.  Milo and I wanted, no, desperately needed, ice cream.  What else? 

So Nate and I set off on a late night (9:00 pm) ice cream adventure to Sonic, dressed in our pjs and me giggling in delight.  A cold front was breezing through and the night sky was completely lit up with lightning.  Even had we come home without ice cream, I still would have enjoyed myself. 

And we got the ice cream - a butterfinger and M&M blast for me, and a banana split for Nathan.  I went to set his down in our double cup holder, and he said, "No, baby, not there...  For that very reason."  Yes, I dumped the banana split into the cup holder, managed to save some of it, and then laughed all the way home despite the mess I was about to have to clean up.  Good for Nate - he already has someone to whom he can tell, "I told you so," with frequency.  I'm a good lesson for him in child-rearing.

Road Trip Part 2

Psssssst. 
Guess what?

I'm stalling.  Biding my time until I can actually force myself to figure out what on earth my kids are doing today.  That's right.  I waited until the last minute, and now I'm down to the wire with 30 minutes and a very sparse lesson.  (sigh)  Truth be told, I'm just not feeling it today, but I need to get my act together before I see a single student...

But while I'm doing that, let me tell you about Part 2 of my road trip.

After the funeral and luncheon last Wednesday, Jen, Ann, and I hit a few Rockford stops, the first being Grandma's house, which seemed completely empty without her.  Being the only knitter in the family, I got to take some of her precious needles and yarn, which made me feel good.  Grandma would have loved for me to have these things, and I even found some blue and white baby yarn to make something for Milo.  I'm going to consider it her blanket to him.

We also stopped at Beef-a-Roo for cheddar fries.  If you've never had them, I can't even begin to describe how fatty, unhealthy, and divinely delicious they are. And, of course, we stopped at Mary's Market for breakfast pastries and coffee (don't worry, just for Jen).  Were it humanly possible for me to pack up the whole restaurant and bring it back with me, I would have, because we are completely lacking something so lovely here in Lufkin.

And then it was off to Elgin to see Grandma Marilyn.  I couldn't wait to see her, especially since I was feeling so extremely sentimental.  And my feisty Grandma didn't disappoint.  She served us pizza on Chicago Bears plates, with Chicago Bears napkins, and our drinks were, of course, also served in Chicago Bears cups.  Oh, it was a feast, indeed, and Grandma even packed up a cup and some napkins to send home for Nate, who is a die-hard Cowboys fan.  Reminder:  3 weeks ago, the Bears beat the Cowboys.  It was definitely a high point for me, considering I was raised a Bears fan and rarely see them win.

Grandma thought I looked adorable pregnant, and after a thorough check, including lifting up my shirt to get a good view of my butt, decided that I'm not gaining weight anywhere but my stomach (and my giant bust).  I got the seal of approval, which felt pretty darn good.

After an amazing evening visiting with Grandma, we hit the hay, only to awaken at 5 a.m. Thursday.  Yes, the long trip back was about to begin.  Sarah, Bryan, Mikey, and the girls decided to sleep in Thursday and start the drive around 1 (Let me also mention that they thought they could still speed and beat us home, and continued to taunt us about it until Bryan finally got pulled over and issued a ticket.  I don't want to say, "HAH!!!" or anything, but...).  Jen had to be back for work on Friday, so it was imperative that we leave.  However, it was NOT imperative that we drive straight through without stopping at an outlet mall on the way back through Illinois.  That's right, around 10 a.m. we saw it, and an angel choir and the voice of God compelled us to stop, where we shopped our little hearts out for about 2 hours.  It was a completely worthwhile and necessary trip, especially since we were such troopers all the rest of the way home.  We made it back by 1:30 a.m. on Friday, and sleep has never felt so sweet after a week of going practically without it. 

Yes, I stopped every two hours to "fully empty my bladder and walk around for a few minutes" as my doctor instructed.  Yes, I was completely uncomfortable and itchy a majority of the way home (and the weekend after we arrived).  Yes, I spent the entire weekend crying my eyes out after I was able to be still for a while.  And yes, I am completely and utterly glad that I went.  Even though my students gave my substitute such a fit that he told on me to my department head.  But that's another story for a completely different day.

And now I'm off to my lesson plans, which I have 15 minutes to get under control.  Glad you're not a teacher?

Road Trip Part I

You're probably asking yourself about the ROAD TRIP.  Well, that is, if you have nothing better to do than keep up with my life and my blog and the promises I've made on said blog. 

It all began with a message on Jen's answering machine, a tinny, mechanized voice:  "Wut time shoood I be read-ee to go?"  My brother Mikey successfully sent a text to Jen's land line, which resulted in the funniest joke of our entire trip, Jen repeating the text in her best Midwestern robot voice at all hours so we could get a good laugh.  It got even better when my brother continued to text the answering machine while we were on the trip, leaving such gems as, "My bottom is covered in flax-seed," and "My Jen-et-als (see earlier post on Jen's new nickname) are swollen" for Jen's husband.  I can't remember the last time I was so delighted with technology, and poor Mike Dant just wanted to know why he was being prank called by all of us.

Looooooong story short (and it was a very long, 2-day story), our road trip up involved 1 caravan of 6 adults, 2 kids (3 months and 3 years old), 2 cars, one two-hour stop at Bob Evans, and a hotel stay in West Memphis completely devoid of any hot water (Jen worked it and got us our room for free).  It also involved endless streams of tears and countless burts of hysterical laughter, at least 100 window-cracks for my farting younger siblings, and at least three times that I thought Ann might hit Mikey for reclining his front passenger seat so much he was practically sitting in the back. 

It also involved one very cranky seven-months pregnant woman (oh wait, that was me) shifting around and around, trying desperately to get comfortable after 9 hours in the car.  Jen overheard a hilarious phone conversation between Nate and me. I'll describe it the way she heard it, with only my voice.  "Oh, the car ride is okay.  I'm just uncomfortable.  You know how I get itchy when I'm tired."  (long pause)  "No, baby, I said itchy."  I'll leave you to fill in the blanks.  Needless to say, I might have gotten my feelings hurt had Jen not been laughing so hard...

We drove from 6 p.m. on Monday to 3 a.m. Tuesday, stopped, and drove from 9 a.m. Tuesday to 9 p.m. Tuesday, when we finally arrived in Rockford, IL.  Tell me how an 18-hour trip managed to take us all that time?  Besides the Bob Evans stop?  We had originally intended to make it for Grandma's visitation from 5-8 p.m. on Tuesday (which at least a thousand people attended).  Definitely didn't go quite as planned, though, which I'm understanding more and more is how life in general works.  But when we finally arrived, we were greeted by our delighted cousins, warm beds, cool weather, and one happy dog named Gus.  It was good to be "home" in Rockford (Jen and I promptly begged our husbands to let us move back, to which they both replied, "If we're moving anywhere, it's NOT going to be to Rockford.").

More on the trip to come...


   

DoAnn

Well, my friends, I did indeed abandon you for a week.  With a sad reason.  My precious precious Grandmother, my dad's mom, passed away last Saturday, and I didn't even have the heart to write.  I've been in survival mode for the past week, and I know it's about time to snap out of it...  But I'm truly heartbroken because Grandma was my last link to my dad, and if he couldn't hold my Milo Jay, I was determined that she would.  For some reason I was positive she would be okay, just for that reason.  My only comfort is how many times my cousins reminded her that Milo's middle name was Jay after my dad, and how happy she was every time they talked about it.

My grandma, known as DoAnn, GG, Grandma Geiger, Grams, etc., was one of the kindest and most influential people I know.  Nothing could stop her, nothing could get her down.  She loved knitting (as do I), purple, and people.  She cared so much about individuals with special needs that she was the person responsible for bringing Special Olympics to Northwest Illinois, and our family grew up helping and loving these people just for her.  No one was a stranger to her.  In fact, I think that she knew just about every single person in Rockford, and I could never go anywhere without being recognized as "one of DoAnn's girls."

When my dad, her first-born son, died, she filled in the gaps for me.  I always remember seeing Grandma in the stands when I was cheering at basketball games.  She was there at every luncheon, every award ceremony, every extra event where I needed a parent.  She lived close enough for me to walk to her house, and we spent so much time with me just curled up on her sofa, while she knit away at a blanket, or a hat, or a lighthouse sweater (wink), asking me an endless stream of questions about me, the family, just about anything.  I remember going to coffee with her at Mary's Market, and how any time we were together she said, "What a wonderful little party."

Grandma also said what was on her mind, no beating around the bush.  The first time Nate met her, he was her date to a wedding that I was in.  As the husky bridesmaids filed down the aisle, she loudly remarked to him, "Well, those really are some corn-fed girls, aren't they?"  Nate had no choice but to love her, as we all did.  You never had to wonder what Grandma was thinking, and you never had to wonder if her intentions were pure and filled with nothing but love.

My siblings and I road-tripped up to Illinois for her funeral.  It was an 18-hour drive full of delirium and laughter, and I'm sure I'll have plenty to say on that another day.   But for now, I'm examining my life, wanting to make sure that I measure up now that Dad and Grandma can both keep an eye on me and see what's going on.  I feel like I should be helping more people, saying what I mean, and wearing a lot of purple.