mothers day

I am thankful that I have the opportunity to be a mother. A few years ago I didn’think I would have the chance. Because of two consecutive miscarriages my doctor did some testing, discovered I had Factor V Leiden and MTHFR (both blood clotting disorders), put me on daily shots (ouch, ouch, ouch) for my next two pregnancies and now I have my two babies. It was a painful process physically and emotionally but I am so blessed. So. Incredibly. Blessed. Although I am not a perfect mom I am a great one because I strive every day to give all my love to my children. “I love you” is the phrase they hear from sun up to sun down and all the time inbetween. They need to know that I am here to nuture, protect and love them always.

I am happy and blessed because I am a mother. Happy Mothers Day!

 

creamy raw almond butter with cinnamon and honey

Warning! This post will make you run out and by your own almonds and make your own almond butter. Then you will eat it all.

A few weeks ago I started a nutrition program that not only has been phenomenal for me but has introduced me to some very delicious things to eat. The new first new amazing food item I found was raw almond butter. Why raw? I had been eating roasted almond butter but my body didn’t like it. I got headaches and plus it made me gain weight, and I’m not interested in any more unwanted pounds. When I went to the store to buy the raw version I quickly noticed the HIGH, HIGH price of raw almond butter. No thanks. Certainly I can find a way to make my own, and I did, and it is the easiest, most delicious nut butter I have had (second in line is cashew butter – but that will be another post for another day). I found several recipes, but this recipe here is the one that I was most helpful for me, however I am giving you the recipe that I made and that I absolutely love.

Do you want to make your own? Good, because once you make it you will never need to buy it. Ever.

You will need:

• 2 cups of raw almonds
• cinnamon (optional)
• honey (optional)
• a food processor (doesn’t have to be the most expensive one on the market)
• a spoon to use to shovel some of the finished product into your pie hole once you are done making this

Put almonds in your food processor. Pulse until the almonds become flour-like and then let it process continuously for 10 – 12 mintues (sometimes longer depending on your processor). You will need to stop a few times to scrap the sides.

BE PATIENT! This really does take a while before the nuts begin to ‘butter’ up. Just be patient. It will happen.

DO NOT ADD ANY LIQUIDS!  Let the almonds process and process and process all by themselves. Once you get the butter texture and you are done processing add in a teaspoon of vanilla and cinnamon to your liking (I am a cinnamon freak so I put quite a bit). Pulse a couple of times until mixed in.

Stir in your honey, do not process or you will get a funky result. Apparently the honey does not appreciate being disturbed. I’m sure there is an explanation for this chemical reaction but I’m not going to look it up. Just trust me since I ruined one batch by doing what I told you not to do.

Store in an air-tight container in the refrigerator. I’ve had mine for two weeks and it’s still great. I’m thinking next time I am going to add in some cocoa powder and a bit of coconut flavoring next time around. Almond Joy spread, anyone?

Home is where your heart is…and your stuff, too.

A little more than a week ago we moved back to Addison after spending a year in Lewisville. Why? I could give you a really long explanation but the bottom line is that we absolutely love Addison. There are so many great things about Addison that it deserves it’s own post. Seven of our eight years of marriage are here. Many fun memories are here. Our hearts never left Addison so here we are back where we love and we brought our stuff with us too.

{PS, this kid is now going on 10 months and 10 hair cuts. And oh how I love his chubby littleness!}

Today we went out for a little walk to the park. I allowed Bella to ride her way-too-small-for-her-massively-long-legs tricycle while I pushed the boy in the stroller.

I began to think about how many times I have moved. Seriously, I’m a professional packer-upper. My Mom taught me well. She is a pro too because she grew up an Air Force brat (meant in the kindest way, Mom). I’ve seen her pack up our family several times. I remember thinking to myself “I’m not going to move around when I’m grown up”. Wrong. I have. Here is the breakdown:

Arizona
Mesa (born)

Utah
Orem, probably three or four different houses until I was nine years old.

Tonga
Matangiake, two apartments and then to LHS campus housing all in five years.

Hawaii
La’ie, three houses with the fam, five houses/apartments during college, and a brief move to Mililani somewhere in there with the fam too, all within 9 years.

Oregon
Eugene, for a Spring and Summer term as an Oregon Duck.

Utah again
Taylorsville and Sandy, six different places in five years.

Arizona again
Gilbert, with my brother and sis-in-law for 8 months.

Texas
Addison, six years, two apartments (five years in one of them), Lewisville for one year and now we are back.

Phew! See, I am a pro, aren’t I? Can anyone beat that? One day my little family will be somewhere more permanent, but for now this our home and we are all very happy to be back.

On a Vacation

This vacation was necessary. It didn’t cost me anything. I took it at a moments notice. Although I didn’t fly or drive anywhere I did actually go somewhere that I wanted to be. This vacation has almost been two weeks and it’s been lovely. I’m talking about my small vacation for the land of Facebook. Yes, Facebook. And I am not the first one to do it. I remember a few of my friends who disappeared for a while and then resurfaced after a few months. I never asked why they took a break (or as some have called it a facebreak – ha!) but for me it was just time to do it for a few reasons that I’ll get to in a moment. 

I recently sat at the computer (which rarely happens) and did some searches for ‘a break from facebook’  and found a myriad of articles and blog posts about various people stepping back for a while from the Facebook world. I read a few and there was a recurring theme or keywords that kept popping up: stressful, upsetting, comparing, a downer, depressing – and more. One blogger took a Facebook vacay for a dissertation (good for her), another because she was being criticized for her recent published book. Another because she felt that her life wasn’t a good as another’s. And this is where my story begins.

In the thick of my PPD I began to use Facebook more heavily than ever before. I was stuck at home all the time with a newborn and a toddler. What I should have done was call my friends to come over and keep me company but I didn’t because I was depressed and depressed people  – or at least what I did – is become a frumpy, grumpy loner reclusive. And I was. So my outlet to the world was through Facebook. That can be a good thing and it can be a bad thing. It was good because I have no family here and I wanted them to see pictures of my baby and get to know him through the things that I would post about him, his milestones and cute things that he would start doing. It was a bad thing because either I only conversed via status updates and I started to compare myself to my friends. Why was it that so-and-so could have six kids and make popcorn balls, clean the entire house, do six different crafts and wash and fold the laundry each day and I was falling apart with only two children? What was wrong with me? Why was this person this way and I couldn’t be? Why, why, why? Compare, compare, compare! Not. A. Good. Thing.

Just this past Saturday I attended a conference for our Stake Relief Society and a topic of conversation at the lunch table was about social media. There was gentleman who gave a presentation about social media because he works in that particular field. He stated that the heaviest users of Facebook are housewives. No shocker there. I did not attend the presentation but a friend of mine did, and told a story about a woman who posted a picture of a dozen roses  and bragged about her husband but what we don’t know is that her husband hit her the day before, or something to that nature. Of course that may not be the correct version of that story but you get the picture. We don’t know what really goes on behind the scenes. We only see what our friends want us to see, which is usually the happy stuff. I was getting caught up in the dangerous snares of comparison, and it was making me angry, frustrated and a FB hater. So hence the Facebook vacation for a while.

This vacation has been good. I don’t need to stay away for long, but I needed time to redefine why I needed Facebook anyway. And yes, there are good reasons. For example, I stay in touch with my family and it’s fun. I see what they are up to and how they are doing. I have friends all over the globe and I love to know a small part of their lives, too. It’s not all bad. It is what you make of it. I just had made it the wrong thing for me. When I come back it will be for the right reasons and I will ultimately feel much better about being a user again.

My Dad’s Counsin’s Grandson’s Daughter

Huh?!? I know. I was just as confused, too. So let me explain who and why my Dad’s cousin’s grandson’s daughter is important to us:

Almost a year ago I was at a birthday party for one of Bella’s friends. We were also new to the area, new to the ward at church so naturally I was making an attempt to get to know people. I noticed a Dad chasing after a darling little boy with bright blue eyes. So I started chatting with him, asking him all the same questions I typically do: what is your name, are you here for medical school (I’ve had so many friends here for some kind of medical schooling), what are your kids names, where are you from. Oh, so he is from Mesa, Arizona. Well, anyone who says that they live there I always tend to dig a little further because my entire family is from there. And when I say ‘entire’ I mean both sides go way back, and they were there when it was only dust and cactus everywhere.

So Robert, the father of said cute blue-eyed boy, tells me his family also settled in Mesa a million years ago (I obviously exaggerate here). Do you see where this is going? We establish that somewhere down the line we might be extremely distantly related through the same family line.

A month later mi Madre, my Mumsie, the woman who knows all, is here for a pre and post-baby visit. We attended a ward barbecue and of course I’m dying to have her talk to Robert so she can figure out how many generations ago we are related. She asks who his grandfather is and lo-and-behold my father and Robert’s grandfather are cousins. Like the kind that keep in touch with each other, too.

So that means that Robert is my second cousin-once-removed (translation: his mom is my second cousin, or he is the son of my second cousin). My kiddies and Robert are third cousins, which makes Robert’s children third cousins-once-removed to my kiddies (translation: the children of third cousin), which makes me super happy to be related to some amazing people! Did I lose you yet? Breena is Isabella’s friend -OR – my Dad’s cousin’s grandson’s daughter. Ta-da!

The cousins: Breena and Bella, who is excited and thrilled to be playing but she is not so great showing it to any camera of mine. It’s not the best picture, but I feel lucky to have had both of them cooperate for at least one shot.

 

I took the kidlets over to the Bentley’s house to play with Breena and Joshua, that cute boy I keep referring to. As we left the house I jokingly told Bella that we were “going to go play with Breena, your third cousin once removed” and she exclaimed “Breena is my best cousin!” Cousins, first, second or third, certainly are the best