My Super Power Is...

My poster, sitting in my basement collecting dust.

When I was a child, I used to dream about what kind of super power I would want if I could actually have such a thing. The ability to fly was at the top of the list most days, but a few times I wished for super strength or telepathy, healing powers or super speed. I made [not printed, hand MADE] this poster when I was in college for a blood drive at my school. [See that little guy? I painted him freehand, and there's a super girl, too.] Most kids dream of what it would be like to be a super hero, to be somebody big and powerful, someone who makes a difference as well as a name for themselves. Someone important. Someone everyone can look up to and admire. Those innocent aspirations often morph into the things that drive us as we grow up. Sometimes, we adults need reminding that it is often the little things, the things that go unnoticed, that really make a difference. For the purposes of my poster, it was giving blood, something I believe very strongly in and have done many times since. I don't know who got my blood each time, but I know that if it was instrumental in saving just one life, that qualifies me as somewhat of a hero. The unsung, behind the scenes kind, but a hero nonetheless.

I've been thinking a lot this December about what it is I want out of life. I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to give up this stay at home mom thing and go back to work. There are days when I wonder if I'm even going to make it to bedtime. The never ending messes and meal planning. The whining and complaining, the constant battle for control. Any of you who know me well, know the struggles of parenting autism very often pale in comparison to raising my 3 year old daughter. She seeks every day to be in charge, and every day, I have to remind her how this whole thing works. Literally. My husband will often remind her before leaving for work, "Who's in charge? Are you in charge, or is Mommy in charge?" She has learned to answer, "Mommy's in charge."Before he reminds her to, "Listen to your Mommy." One day, she came to me and said, "Who's in charge? Are you in charge, or am I in charge?" I reply, "Mommy's in charge." She chimes back, "That's right, you're in charge today, but tomorrow is my turn." This is a constant battle, and most days winning that battle, teaching her to be respectful and obedient doesn't feel like winning. It feels like I'm losing my daughter and my mind. I could whine some more, but I know if you read this blog, you have already heard it.

I had big dreams when I was a kid — big, important, saving lives kind of dreams. I was going to make a difference and see lives changed before my eyes. I was going to use my light to burn a hole in the darkness of this world. Now, I change diapers, (NO. She is STILL not potty trained!), wipe noses, prevent mass chaos or death by childish foolishness. I manage schedules, pack lunches, administer homework. I sit back and watch my friends, family and most annoyingly, my husband do things with their lives while I'm stuck in never ending monotony. This is NOT how I expected to live my life.

Ideas have been swirling around in my head. Some good, some not so good. Finish my masters, (I'm STILL two classes away from being done) and go back to work. Being challenged creatively and spending my days around creative adults sounds like heaven to me right now. Divorce my husband and let him try to figure out how to do all he does without my doing what I do. Stop using the word 'someday' to refer to something I can do today. Stop feeling guilty about doing things that I enjoy because I have to beg for help with the kids to do them. I could go on, but I think you get the idea.

Basically, I've been thinking about making BIG changes. There's this thing though, this word that keeps coming up when I'm thinking about some of these things. Surrender. And, here's that same fight I talked about years ago in my other blog. Why can't I get over this hurdle. It's like I stand there and stare at it like it's just going to shrink so I can step over with ease, or like my staring eyes will somehow burn it to ash crumbling at my feet. See, the truth is, I can't do that. I can't surrender because I don't trust God to do what's right by me. I believe if I give Him my dreams, if I surrender, I'll be permanently fixed as Cinderella before the prince. I'll work and struggle and watch as first my husband and then my children live their lives and leave me behind never looking back to thank me for holding everything together, as if God has chosen me to be a footstool or stepping stone for others to walk over on their path to success.

Surrender? To that? No thank you. That's when the anger swells up, and it seems like all I can think about is how God has let me down, how the talents and gifts He gave me turned into tools life has used to tease me or to break me. I find myself often thinking, "that's alright, I'll make my own way."

Let's pause for a second and think back. I worked full time all the way up to the birth of my second child, and once I became a mom, I HATED it. I liked my job and the people I worked with, but the guilt of leaving my son every day ate away at my soul like nothing I had ever experienced before. Then working full time and going to school while taking care of a baby. Being pregnant with a husband in residency while doing all the other things I just mentioned, I was so burned out by the time Jackson was born, it's a wonder I could deliver him. After that, I had a taste of being a single mom, and it was HARD. I managed to put on a happy face for most people and my kids, but it hurt, and I was tired, and no matter how hard I tried, I could not be both mommy AND daddy for my kids. The grass isn't really greener, it's just my mind sees the past in technicolor. Back to reality.

"Have you ever dreamed of saving lives?" One small act, like giving blood, can save a life, can save many lives. Sitting in a chair, enduring the sting as the needle goes in, pushing through the light headedness til the juice and snack they provide take affect. Those minor discomforts that barely interrupt your day. That has the power to give a mother back her baby, a child their father. There's no parade as you leave. Not even a pat on the back, but it makes a difference. It makes a big difference to those who receive the blood because they receive life.

I didn't get to fulfill many of last year's resolutions. Obviously, from the previous paragraphs, I blame my kids, my husband, this crooked old body I'm stuck in, and God. I can't help but make more, and there are plenty of things I want to change and accomplish this year. But, more than all that, I'm praying for super powers. Well, one power actually, the power of invisibility.... The power to clean my home and not resent the mess makers. The power to plan and cook the meals and be ok if I don't get rave reviews. The power to do the laundry and focus on my family looking their best rather than resenting the fact that no one notices or cares that they have trampled that same sweater and sent it back to the laundry room without wearing it over and over again. The power to manage our schedules and be ok that mine pretty much revolves around theirs. I'm praying for the power to be ok living an invisible life, to be ok with being the invisible force that launches my husband and children into a world that needs them. I'm praying for that word, surrender, to mark my life rather than plague it. I'm praying for God to teach me to be more like Jesus, invisible but infinitely powerful through His Spirit, and see what His power can do for my dreams. I can't yet, but I want to trust Him. I want to trust that this is just a season, and if I hold on, the seasons will change, and Spring will come bringing with it the promise of new life.

So, happy new year! I hope you are blessed in your resolutions, and I hope your new year is filled with love, laughter and life!

It Came Upon A Midnight Clear

Ok. So, it's not midnight yet, and it's pretty yucky and wet outside. But, it came! That Holiday peace that seems to avoid me like I have the plague every year since I got married. Most of my adult Holiday memories involve lots of anxiety and struggle. In fact, I think I've shed more tears during the month of December than any other month of the year. There is nothing like being bombarded with joyous Christmas merriment and family bliss everywhere you turn for an entire month to make you feel lonely and forgotten.

I am not really alone for Christmas. I'm not homeless or hungry. I haven't lost a loved one before their time. I'm not facing cancer or another life threatening illness. I am married with three beautiful, healthy children and surrounded by lots of family and friends who love me. I know it's crazy that Christmas would be hard for me, but I think that's part of the problem. How I think I should feel or at least look like I feel, this whole pretending thing I do. That and the struggle I went through in my marriage, and all the time spent holding my breath, waiting for the bottom to fall out, wearing that fake smile and happy mask I carefully crafted so everyone around me would feel comfortable, those years took their toll. Anxiety became my default mode, and we all know anxiety is a bully that pushes peace out every time. Then there were the Holidays when I was trying desperately to STAY pregnant and absolutely miserable. The ones near a big move or a looming diagnosis. December just has bad timing for me.

Then tonight, I read Luke 2 with my kids at bed time. They sat captivated as if it was the first time they had ever heard the Christmas story. As I read, I realized I almost didn't have to read it, so much of it coming back to memory from my childhood (and Charlie Brown's Christmas special). That's when I could feel it, the peace settling in. Remembering what it's all about.

[My favorite part:]

"And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men." Luke 2:8-14

Peace and good will toward men possible because our uncontainable God bound Himself inside a tiny little body to experience life as we do, to shiver in the cold, sweat from the heat, puke from the stomach flu (sorry, that little bit of suffering is fresh in my mind), to be tempted, tried and acquainted with our suffering. Our immortal God choosing to become mortal and die willingly at our hands, all so that He could give us the gift of life, eternal and whole.

I'm usually in a big rush at bedtime, hurrying through the routine so I can get to my insane to-do list that is never done, but tonight, we sat and talked about Jesus, about why He came, about the fact that Christmas isn't about Santa's naughty or nice list, but about the gift God gave us in His Son, a gift none of us could ever deserve.

When I finally said it was time for sleep and prayed with three of the most precious gifts I have ever been given, I was overcome with gratitude. They sat quiet and still (yes, even Allie) hanging on every word I said.

"My dear heavenly Father, thank you so much for each of my babies, my Jacob, my Jackson and my Allie. Thank you so much for giving up your baby so that I could become Your daughter and share Your amazing Gift with them. Please fill our home with Your Spirit and bring us peace...."

I then went through our usual prayer requests for family, friends and no nightmares. Then I kissed each one of them walking out with total peace and great big fat tears rolling from my eyes.

Now, the trick here will be allowing peace to stay and forbidding anxiety to return, but for now, I'm going to enjoy it and pray that the peace that passes all understanding will settle in your home, as well.

"I need a man's potty."

So, we had to potty at the mall today. We often have to potty in public. I hate it when we have to use a public restroom, but it's been this way since I started potty training my oldest son (now 8). This has resulted in my knowing all the best restrooms in our area, and several on popular interstate routes.

I am no longer surprised when the conversation begins. "Mom, I've got to go to the restroom." "Honey, can it wait?" "No, I have to poop." This child has single handedly cured me of my public restroom phobia. Now I just chant to myself the whole time. "This won't kill us. People do this all the time and survive. I can do this." There are many memories of my children's early lives that have seemed to fade over time. That's code for my psyche intentionally blocking them from my mind so I can continue to move forward and love them with that irrational, all-consuming love that drives me to do what I do for them every day. Case and point, how many mothers do you know that recount their birthing stories with horror? Oh, no. They're all neatly coated in fuzzy happiness because all the pain and struggle gets lost in those beautiful, gunky, squished up faces.

These lovely public restroom situations would be among the blocked chunks of time for me. This is due to the fact that they mostly contain me reluctantly entering this dreaded place lugging my infant daughter in a carrier, my autistic son, Jackson, who was horrified by all the sights, sounds and smells, and this little guy whose bowels only seemed to move in public. I did my best to control Jackson's screaming while keeping my oldest from touching anything he did not absolutely have to touch all the while managing the carrier and diaper bag. I'm getting chills just thinking about it. Things are easier now. Jackson can handle it. My daughter is older and potty training, too. It is generally not a struggle anymore.

...What a glorious day it will be when ALL of my children are out of diapers and pull-ups and asking to go potty in the most inconvenient places....

This time, I made them go into the family restroom so they could all go together and I could be with them. I know it's a little paranoid, but germs and crazy people are everywhere, Y'all. Besides, the men's room was all the way down a hall and opposite the lady's room. There's no way I'm sending my two boys in there without me. This was super embarrassing for my 8 year old who thinks he's big enough to do everything on his own. Upon opening the door we saw a changing table, one small potty, one large potty, one small sink and one large sink. My 3 year old daughter, who can find excitement in the drying of paint, details what she sees out loud with great delight. Jackson goes straight for the little potty, and has his pants down before I can shut the door. Realizing it was too small for him. he then exclaims loud enough for the whole mall to hear (the door is still open, darn hydraulic hinges), "I need a man's potty," and moves to the larger toilet beside him. Meanwhile, I get the door shut and locked and my daughter decides to go all by herself. Her hands are all over the tiny little commode. I see the concentration face and begin to panic. "Not here." I keep repeating to myself. "This won't kill us. I CAN do this. I'll just make sure she washes her hands really good." My 8 year old suddenly decides he doesn't have to poop after all. Besides, it is super embarrassing to go INTO the bathroom with your mom and little sister. Bored with the whole thing, he decides to put his brother in a head lock while he's washing his hands. Water and screaming all around. They are now tussling and I start panicking that they might end up on the floor.

What happens if mom has a public meltdown due to sensory overload? Hopefully, I'll never know. Someone tries to open the door. I'm trying to break up the fight. My daughter shouts, "coming!" And tries to open the door with her pants still down (the concentration face was a false alarm, thank goodness). I start scrambling to figure out how I would explain the scene to a local DFACS officer, while having flashbacks of earlier times. I begin to remember why I rarely left the house for a huge chunk of Jackson's early years.

Mustering up my quick-as-lightening mom reflexes, I stopped my daughter from opening the door, broke up the fight, and got us out of there mostly dry and clean. Emerging victorious and feeling like super mom, we then move on to the carousel as if everything about what just occurred in that tiny little room was completely normal.

I then laugh to myself when the thought of blogging this came to my mind. This desire, to not only record this memory before my brain can force it into the section of my brain I never use but to share it with the world, is quite strange, maybe even insane. But, the best part, the pies de resistance, came later.

We have a bedtime tradition of asking the kids to share their favorite part of the day. I think it started as an attempt to cause them to think about something they could be thankful for every day, but it has morphed into a one-up tournament, most nights anyway. Tonight, though, when I asked my daughter what her favorite part of the day was, she exclaimed with great delight, "going to the bathroom at the mall."

So, on those days when you feel like they should post a sign outside your house that says looney bin, maybe you can think of this post and remember, normal is just a setting on the dryer.

The End Is Near

The end has come....for the 2012 election, that is. It's over, finally. No more ads or political telemarketing. No more celebrities jumping on one band wagon or another. For this I am very thankful. However, the end of the election has sparked the beginning of something else, doom.

There is nothing like the election or re-election of a liberal President to bring out the doomsday prophets. My Facebook news feed was immediately filled with all kinds of angry and fearful posts about how this is the end of the US and probably the world. Well, some of those posts were from friends up in Sandy's path, and for them, it probably really did look like the end of the world. I had one friend posting about how eerie it was to see New York City dark and how she was fully expecting to see zombies come out of the deserted buildings and try to eat her. Maybe she watches too many horror films, but I digress.

The depression and disillusionment of so many Americans, particularly conservative Christians, was palpable in the days following the election, and is still very tangible even now. I live in the conservative South, and it felt like it was almost in the air or the water or something. The sadness seemed to fuel the theories. I've heard all kinds from Obama is the anti-christ to Obama is working with Al Qaeda to destroy us from within. I didn't see the movie 2016, but I've heard all about it, more so after the election than before. There's talk of demonic activity in our government, the old Illuminati conspiracy theories, and more practically, the inevitable collapse of our economy. Now, I'm not going to tell you who I voted for, or where I tend to lean on some of these theories, but I will say that I feel very strongly that in the eternal scope of things, for those of us who believe in God and Jesus, it isn't the end of the world, even if it is the end of this world.

Even if the last days, prophesied for thousands of years, are actually upon us.... even if we are facing the possible revoking of our right to worship God as we see fit.... even if things do progress to something similar to the days of Nero when Christian men, women and children were fed to Lions for the entertainment of the 'civilized' Roman people.... even if we do find ourselves in another depression that creates a national famine.... none of this changes who we are and what we've been called to do.

"But now thus says the LORD, he who created you....He who formed you.... "Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine." Isaiah 43:1

"You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself." Luke 10:27

"Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world." James 1:27

"O man, what is good; and what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?" Micah 6:8

I particularly like Micah 6:8. It's so simple. Yes, we should seek justice in our homes, our churches and our government, but true justice will not come to this Earth by any human hand. And, I'm very thankful I will not receive justice but mercy from that Hand. I want to extend the mercy and kindness I was given by my God to those around me. If the times do get dark, how much brighter the Light will shine.

We are not called to fear the times in which we live, but to trust the God who put us here. Take heart in the stories of those who have come before us, those who suffered and must have believed the end of this world was upon them, too. I often look at the life I've been given and wonder to myself, why me, why now? Why wasn't I born into a time when living out my beliefs meant being burned at the steak or stoned to death? Why wasn't I born in a time of great revival and church growth? I don't know if I'll get the answer to that question in this life, but I know that if I can't trust the God who put me here, then I can't trust anything. Even if my idea of the perfect president is elected and everything is going the way I think it should, if my God is not in control, then I have nothing.

Now, Lord willing, I intend to enjoy the Holiday season, plan my next trip to Disney, train for a half-marathon, help my children grow and develop into healthy, happy adults. I intend to see them go to college, get married and have children of their own. I intend to enjoy the life I've been given by loving my God and the people He has placed in my life, by walking humbly with Him and offering kindness and mercy to everyone I can. All the rest, the details, the things that are out of my control, all that is up to Him, and I trust Him completely.

So, Happy Thanksgiving! Let's ditch the doom and gloom and be thankful for our God, our Country, our families, and our lives. Let's thank God for the food we will spread out on our dining room tables, for the souls that will gather to eat it with us whether connected by blood or another bond, and for each breath He allows us to take. For those who know Him, there will never be an end. The feast will continue with Him for eternity. Thank you, thank you, Jesus.

A Fire and a Bath

This started as a Facebook status update and morphed into something that little box couldn't handle. I wanted to ask how often my friends get jealous of their kids, but I just kept typing. I knew that sometimes things just start falling out of my mouth, emotions and thoughts and ideas. I guess my fingers do the same thing.

As I was drawing my daughter's bath tonight, running my hand under the warm water waiting for the numbers to hit the right spot on her little frog water temperature toy, I sighed thinking how wonderful it would be to take a long, hot bath with candles and music and bubbles. Oh, but then who would prepare my oldest son's costume for Egyptian market day and make lunches and finish homework (we spent our morning finishing a project for my husband) and pack back packs and lay clothes out and work on more things for the big event coming up. I sighed again. At the moment, she was whining and fussing. She didn't get a nap today, and I was running late for bedtime as usual. She cried my name over and over, not the one my mother gave me, but the one I share with millions of other women struggling through the same divinely given job, Mom. I started to get agitated and sad and more sighs came out as I undressed her and put her in the tub. Then, she started to play. There's an old saying, something about when your kids get cranky put them in water. I thought about that. Than I turned on the fire (have I told you I have an enclosed gas fireplace in my bathroom, I know, heavenly) and warmed myself as I took in her sweet-mess, I mean sweetness.

I was still READY for bedtime, and I would still like to take a long hot bath. However, I was kinda proud of myself for taking in the moment and not adding to my list of whining (see previous post) the fact that the only ones who really get to enjoy my giant jetted tub are my kids.

Now off to the rest of my busy night.

The Plan

I'm one of those people that likes a plan, wants a plan, NEEDS a plan, but I won't actually follow the plan once I make it because I need to feel free and flexible, too. I know, total craziness, but it's me. I would love to figure out a way to embrace and love this contradiction in my psyche, but all it really does is frustrate me. Add this trait to my inability to function when things get overwhelming, and you have a winning personality combination for sure.

Lately, I feel like I'm stuck in a downward spiral on my life's roller coaster. Wait, the downward spirals are the fun part, maybe this would be one of those long slow clicking up hill climbs. Anyway, we're busy. VERY busy. I haven't blogged in forever (too lazy right now to go look up the date of my last post). Actually, I haven't written anything. My journal is empty for the entire months of August and September, even though there have been so many post worthy events and moments and thoughts in our lives lately, like our first trip to Disney World and Jackson's first trip to the principal's office at school. The papers in my office are taking over my home, spilling over into every other room in my down stairs. The piles taunt me in my dreams. I've awoken in a cold sweat after dreaming that I had been buried alive in mail and bills and school flyers and receipts. I could hear my family calling my name, but couldn't speak or scream or anything. (Don't you hate those dreams? And, obviously, it was scream worthy. I mean, being buried in paper, that's quality horror flick stuff right there.) I haven't cooked a REAL quality meal for my family in over a week, and before that, it was probably another week of take-out or sandwiches. My poor little Jackson has been eating cereal bars and bananas for snack at school because I haven't been able to bake him all his favorite healthy corn free things. Breakfast has been cereal for more than a month straight. I think somewhere in there I woke up and made pancakes and bacon, but I'm not sure if that actually happened or if it was a dream I had between shutting off my alarm and waking abruptly as I realize the sun is coming up and we should already be in the car. I've touched the keys on my piano once in months (not sure how many). I haven't read anything in the stack of books on my bedside table. I haven't run or worked out in more than a week. I'm eating junk because I haven't cooked anything real and Whole Foods hasn't decided to comply with my urgings to open a store closer than 45 minutes away from my house. This makes me feel gross and fat and sluggish. Of course, the dishes and laundry are piled up (they're always piled up). My living room walls still bear the marks of my budding little artist, the patches from the holes the previous owners left, and they're still WHITE after more than a year living in this house. The TV is in front of my fireplace because my husband won't mount it until we've painted those bare scribbled white walls. So, on the first beautiful crisp Fall morning of the season, I couldn't light a fire and warm myself sipping hot cocoa with my fellow heated chocolate fanatic (that would be my 8 year old son). I love Fall and hot cocoa and warm fires. Can you hear me sighing? My kitchen is still unfinished, exposed piping behind my cook top, a huge gap between the counter and the back splash and a hole in the cabinet where a drawer should be. My head hurts at the thought of going through my kids' closets to put away or give away summer clothes and pull out their winter clothes before things get too cold. They might be wearing shorts and t-shirts all winter. Our vacation put us behind on my homeschooled child's assignments, and catching up has meant still doing school up to dinner time. I got a new car, and I love it. However, I'm starting to hate all the driving and sitting in car pool lines. We're talking about 2 hours three times a week, and 5 hours on Tuesdays and Fridays. Driving and sitting. Ugh. I could probably continue my little description indefinitely. It feels so good to be typing it all out, but geez, look at that paragraph. Huh? I've whined long enough. Basically I'm tired. I'm spent completely, and my living, breathing, growing to-do list makes me want to crumple to the fetal position and rock franticly chanting for it all to disappear.

I was thinking while I was delivering a last minute project to my husband's office this morning, and by last minute I mean, he told me about it this morning before he left for work, and it took my ENTIRE morning to pull it together further delaying any absolution to anything in the above list. Anyway, I was thinking. How did I get here? And, how in the sam hill (not sure I've ever understood that expression) do I get out, back to a place where I don't long to go hide in my bed with the covers pulled tightly over my head?

I almost cringe at the thought of typing this out, but it's all in the plan. I'm not actually talking about my human planning skills. Although, I think they would help tremendously right now, that is, if I had time to plan and organize and be OCD like I want. I'm talking about THE plan. The one written for me before I even knew what a plan was. How many times do I have to be reminded that life isn't a giant to-do list? It's about relationships and memories. Life was meant to be lived not survived. Oh, but in the recesses of my overstressed mind, I deeply desire to cross off that whole dreary paragraph, as if that is the only thing standing between me and the freedom to truly live. Truth is, I'm the one standing in my way.

Deep breath. Happy thoughts....thoughts of my children and the fact that I have a family to be busied with, my Savior who doesn't care how high the dishes and laundry pile up, who's always there when I need to cry my heart out and who has the ability to multiply my time and spark me to life when I have absolutely NO energy to keep going.

Peace won't come from conquering my mountain of responsibilities. I can't guilt my way into it, nor can I force or squeeze it out of some hurried activity. Peace, the real kind, the thing I so desperately need right now, can only come from the Author of it. It will only come as I surrender my plan, or lack thereof, to His plan, THE plan. And, in that accept the fact that His plan for me may not look like a Norman Rockwell painting, and that's OK. Help me, Jesus.

Pumpkin Spice Whole Wheat Pop Tarts

I've made pop tarts at home before. I used store made crust and unsweetened jam. As long as I iced it with something, my kids were all over it, and I felt better about it being less processed with fewer questionable ingredients, not to mention the fact that my little guy with the allergies could have them. However, I'm trying to add more whole grain to the mix these days, and with my 5lb bag of whole wheat pastry flour, I decided to try my hand at whole grain pie crust. Right there on the bag of Bob's Red Mill Whole Wheat Pastry Flour is a recipe for whole wheat pie crust. Only I didn't follow the directions exactly (you know me). I incorporated the chilled butter and ice water into the flour using my food processor, and I chilled it a little longer before rolling it out on my granite counters. I've heard that temperature (i.e. COLD) is as much a secret to good pie crusts as any ingredient. Since I'm not an expert, I'll just take their word for it.

Here's the recipe.

2 cups whole wheat pastry flour
1 tsp salt
3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) organic unsalted butter, chilled and cubed
5-8 Tbsp ice water

Sift flour and salt into a large mixing bowl. (It IS important that you sift the flour.) Cut butter into 12 pieces and rub into the dry ingredients until the mixture resembles a course meal with some pea-size pieces. (This is where I used my food processor, and I also cut my butter cubes much smaller, like 1/4 inch cubes). Sprinkle water over the mixture, one tablespoon at a time and knead lightly just until a dough forms. Form dough into a ball. Cut in half and press each into a disc shape. Wrap each disc in waxed paper or plastic wrap (I used wax paper and formed the 'disc' into a square so when I rolled it out for my rectangular shaped pastries, there would be less waste) and refrigerate for 30 minutes before rolling. (I chilled them for longer, about 45 minutes to an hour, I can never tell when I'm chasing kids.) Yield: 2-9" single pie crusts or 1-9" double pie crust (or 6 3x5 inch homemade pop tarts). Crust will bake alone with the filling for the pie or pre-bake at 375° F for 25-30 minutes. (We'll get to the oven temp and duration in a minute.)

Note: Now, I know this recipe calls for a lot of butter, but it's kind of a 'choose your poison' kind of thing for me. If you take both the fat AND the sugar out of a pop tart, you are left with cardboard. That's just all there is to it. Besides I agree with Michael Pollan that natural fats are not all bad. Our brains are made up of mostly fat, and our neurons are coated in the stuff. I have super active skinny kids. A little extra butter here and there, is not a problem in my book. Back to the recipe....

Now for the filling. I thought about using my breakfast roll filling which is essentially unsweetened apple butter, but I was feeling a little over all this Summer heat and thought something 'Fallish' would be good. So, I decided to use pumpkin for the filling.

1 15oz can pumpkin (not the pie filling, just the pumpkin)
1/2 cup honey
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp ginger

In a medium bowl, mix all ingredients until well incorporated.

Here's the fun part. Assembling the pop tarts. I took pictures, but it was dark and as awesome as the lighting in my kitchen is, I couldn't get a good shot. So, you're just going to have to use your imagination.

Before you roll out the dough, heat your oven to 375 degrees F.

Generously flour your work surface. I used my granite counter because the stone is nice and cold, but you could use a cutting board or kitchen table. You will need a fairly large area to work, and don't skimp on the dusting flour. You don't want your pastries to stick and fall apart before you can get them in the oven. Roll the 'discs' into large squares about 1/8 to 1/16 inch thick. I have this handy little toaster pastry press from Williams-Sonoma (LOVE that place) that my mother-in-law gave me a while back, and it's just awesome for this. However, I did just fine with a knife and my fingers before. So, you can decide if you want to cut your pastries out first and then press them closed or if you're good at uniformity and proportioning, dollop your filling on one sheet and lay the other one on top before you cut and press. I cut them out first. Scooped a heaping teaspoon of pumpkin filling onto the bottom layer, covered each pastry and then pressed the sides together.

Line a cookie sheet with aluminum foil or one of those cool reusable baking liners (I don't have one yet). Lay each pastry on the sheet with a little breathing room. Don't panic if they're a little tight, they shouldn't spread. Bake for about 20-30 minutes, or until golden brown on the edges. Lay out on a wire rack to cool (I don't have one of those either. I just lift them by the aluminum foil and lay them straight on my granite counter). They'll be fine if they cool in the pan on the range.

Now for the icing. I got this off the Bob's Red Mill package, too. It was just easier than pulling out my go-to cream cheese icing recipe and down sizing it for this project. This one seemed small enough to use for this, and I'm actually confused as to how the proportions of this recipe could possibly cover the carrot cake in the recipe right above it....moving on. I did not use Margarine like the recipe called for, yuck! And, I warmed the butter and cream cheese until nearly melted before I added the sugar.

3 Tbsp cream cheese, softened
3 Tbsp Margarine, softened (I used organic butter)
1/2 tsp vanilla
1/4 to 1/3 cup powdered sugar (I use Whole Foods brand organic powdered sugar because they don't use corn starch as their anti-caking agent)

Using a wooden spoon (or a whisk like I did), whip the cream cheese, margarine (yuck, I used butter) and vanilla until smooth. Sift in powdered sugar (it IS important that you sift the sugar, especially if you are using a brand that uses a different anti-caking agent, the lumps are hard and plenteous, and they make for a lumpy ugly frosting), 1 Tablespoon at a time, and stir until a creamy smooth frosting is achieved. (Again, I melted the butter and cream cheese to make it more like cookie icing.)

After the pastries have completely cooled, spread the icing over the top. Allow the icing to set. It won't completely harden like if you were using a high sugar icing, but it does firm up after it cools. And, enjoy! I'm telling you these things were so good, I almost didn't want to share them with my kids, and they were the whole reason I was attempting this recipe.

So, there you go. A much healthier, tastier option for that American breakfast staple.

Staring at the Barn Gate

I grew up with animals. Some of my fondest and most vivid childhood memories are of my horses, sheep, dogs, cats, chickens, geese, ducks and whatever poor struggling animal I felt the need to rescue, the uglier and more helpless the better. If it needed me (and even if its need was all in my head), I had to take care of it. I rescued baby birds from my cats and fed them to death. Who knew you aren't supposed to feed them every time they chirp? I rescued other things from my cats, too, things like lizards and frogs. I also thought it would be cool to see if I could get baby frogs by keeping them in a bucket with a little terrarium for them to lay their eggs. Who knew frogs are cannibalistic? I used to come back and wonder how in the world one or more of them got out of my enclosure without any sign of escape, and it took me a very long time to figure out that the fat happy frog that didn't seem to want to escape was eating the others. I learned a lot about animals and how the natural world works in my simple happy childhood. There were plenty of life lessons learned from observing God's amazing creation up close (like how you should leave frog mating up to the Big Guy) and from connecting the dots between scriptural comparisons of sheep and God's people. Sometimes, the comparison was encouraging, other times embarrassing, and I'm finding myself thinking about one of those traits I noticed so long ago.

I'm not exactly sure how sheep are supposed to survive in the wild. I don't know that there are really any 'wild' sheep anywhere. I might have to look that up. Generally though, when you think about sheep you assume there is a shepherd leading and protecting them. So, being good shepherds, during the cold months when nothing much was growing, we kept our sheep close to the barn or enclosure and fed them grain and hay. They would spend their days snuggled up together and enjoying the trough side service. Every Spring, when we would open the gate to let them out to roam and enjoy natures fresh salad bar, it would always take them a little while to get through that gate. They would often stand there and stare at it. I have no idea what or IF sheep think, but I used to imagine their minds wandering. "Can we go? Should we go? Is it safe to leave the trough? What if we can't get back? Is it a trick? Is she going to be waiting on the other side to catch us and shear us, or worse, de-worm us? Is it a mirage?" Now, sometimes all it took was me catching one and leading them out. Sometimes I wanted to just wait and see if they would trust me. Other times I didn't have any patience and I chased them out. (I know children can be cruel.) It happened the same every year. Stare at the gate until one brave sheep broke from the group and ventured through. Then it was all you can eat until Fall settled in again. The reverse would happen as well. Once all the green had faded to brown and the trees were bare, they would still wait by the gate like we were cruel to keep them shut in. It always took them a while to settle back into the changes each season brought.

I've looked forward to all three of my children being in school on two days every week this entire Summer. I have ALL kinds of plans and visions of a spotless house and finally finished projects. So what did I do with my first day of freedom? Besides having Starbucks with a friend and running a few errands, nothing much at all. I spent the rest of the day almost paralyzed with indecision. I just couldn't get anything done. It was like I was staring at that barn gate and the freedom beyond but not quite sure how to get through it. "Can I do this? Should I do this? Is it safe? Will my kids be ok? Is it a trick? Will I start too many things and be in a bigger mess than before? What if it's all an illusion?" Crazy, huh? I'm thinking I will eventually figure it out. Well, when my daughter's immune system gets up and fighting, that is. She's been sick the last two school days. I want so much to get all the tough stuff done on those days when I'm alone. It's crazy how much you can get done when you don't have a three year old under your feet ALL day. My vision is to have all the busy work done those days so that I can actually enjoy the days and evenings when they're home with me again. It's been so long since I've been able to sit back and marvel at the beautiful people they're becoming. My mind is so preoccupied with all I've NOT done or am NOT doing. I'm in constant survival and failure mode lately, and I'm hoping to use this new freedom to accomplish those things so my mind can rest and my hands are free to play. We'll see. Right now, I'm still staring at that barn gate. Maybe the next school day, I'll be ready to feast on all this new season has to offer. Then again, maybe I'll just sleep.

Dutch Oven Bread

Do any of you remember that artisan bread article that got passed around a while back (like 2007), the one about baking bread in your dutch oven? It was a New York Times article originally, before it went viral. Well, that was before I was interested in baking any kind of bread much less something in my dutch oven, but a few months ago, my mother gave me a black and white photo copy of the article from The Mother Earth News Guide To Fresh Food All Year. It seemed interesting, but I wasn't quite ready to tackle it then. Well, I decided recently it was time to try it.

Easy, No Knead Crusty Bread

1/4 tsp active dry yeast
1 1/2 cups warm water
3 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting.
You may use white, whole wheat or a combination of the two. [I used whole wheat pastry flour.]
1 1/2 tsp salt
Cornmeal or wheat bran for dusting [I just used my flour.]

1. In a large bowl, dissolve yeast in water. Add the flour and salt, stirring until blended. The dough will be shaggy and sticky. Cover bowl with plastic wrap. Let the dough rest at least 8 hours, preferably 12 to 18, at warm room temperature about 70 degrees Fahrenheit.

2. The dough is ready when it's surface is dotted with bubbles. Lightly flour a work surface and place dough on it. Sprinkle it with a little more flour and fold it over on itself once or twice. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and let it rest for about 15 minutes.

3. Using just enough flour to keep the dough from sticking to the work surface or to your fingers, gently shape it into a ball. Generously coat a clean dish towel with flour, wheat bran or cornmeal. Put the seam side of the dough down on the towel and dust with more flour, bran or cornmeal. Cover with another towel and let rise for about 1 to 2 hours. When it's ready, the dough will have doubled in size and will not readily spring back when poked with a finger.

4. At least 20 minutes before dough is ready, heat oven to 475 degrees. Put a 6 to 8 quart heavy covered pot (cast iron, enamel, Pyrex or ceramic) in the oven as it heats. When the dough is ready, carefully remove the pot from the oven and lift off the lid. Slide your hand under the towel and turn the dough over into the pot, seam side up. The dough will lose its shape a bit in the process, but that's OK. Give the pan a firm shake or two to help distribute the dough evenly, but don't worry if it's not perfect; it will straighten out as it bakes.

5. Cover and bake for 30 minutes. Remove the lid and bake another 15-20 minutes, until the loaf is beautifully browned. Remove the bread form the Dutch oven and let it cool on a rack for at least 1 hour before slicing.

Yield: One 1 1/2 pound loaf.
Adapted from The New York Times


I was skeptical of the recipe, and leery of cooking bread in my dutch oven. However, I'm skeptical no longer. It had a hard crunchy crust and a super soft texture. The flavor was plain, but when the recipe only calls for yeast, water, flour and salt, plain is how it turns out. And, plain isn't always a bad thing.

I think next time I'll experiment with herbs and flavorings, but this is perfect to go with soup or chili (especially since corn bread doesn't work for my allergic little guy). Or, honestly, it's great spread with some butter and enjoyed on its own.

I linked to the Mother Earth article above, but here's the link again. It's very interesting, and contains more info about how this method works.

PB&J and Hydrogenated Vegetable Oil?

In a perfect world, where I have enough hours in the day to tend to my children's needs AND get the laundry done, I would make my own peanut butter, fruit preserves and whole wheat bread. However, since a PB&J sandwich is my new idea of fast food, it's important to have those things on hand in my pantry. I understand that store bought bread (the kind from the bread shelf not the bakery) is going to have to have some kind of preservative in it. Otherwise it's going to spoil pretty fast. And, I understand that for good preserves and peanut butter, you're going to need a good sweetener. However, reading the ingredient labels for these childhood staples is surprising to say the least.

Here's the list for Nature's Own Whitewheat bread (one of the few store shelf breads Jackson can have):

Unbleached enriched wheat flour [flour, malted barley flour, niacin, reduced iron, thiamin mononitrate (vitamin B1), riboflavin (vitamin B2), folic acid (A B vitamin)], water, sugar, fiber (soy fiber and/or cottonseed fiber), wheat gluten, yeast, contains 2% or less of each of the following: calcium sulfate, calcium carbonate, vegetable oil (soybean oil or canola oil), salt, soy flour, dough conditioners (sodium stearoyl lactylate, calcium stearoyl-2-lactylate, monoglycerides, calcium iodate, ethoxylated mono and diglycerides, calcium peroxide, datem azodicarbonamide), cultured wheat flour, guar gum, vinegar, ferrous sulfate, thiamin hydrochloride, monocalcium phosphate, yeast food (ammonium sulfate), soy lecithin, 050710

What happened to flour, water and yeast? Yes, that's all you really need for good bread; well, that and a $10,000 professional baker's oven, and a whole lot of time on your hands (i.e. waking up before the roosters). I have a bread machine and a dutch oven, and they serve our purposes just fine. I do not however have enough time (or appropriate morning personality) to bake enough bread to satisfy all of our cinnamon honey toast and pb&j sandwich needs.

Here's the list for regular Skippy peanut butter:

Roasted peanuts, sugar, hydrogenated vegetable oils (cottonseed, soybean and rapeseed) to prevent separation, salt

Now, this fits in with my new love for anything with five ingredients or less, and it's corn free. However, hydrogenated anything isn't good. The funny thing is that this is our favorite peanut butter brand, and it has a natural version that we LOVE. It tastes the same. Seriously. So, why can't they just go all natural? Get rid of the hydrogenated junk.

On to the J's. Here's the list for Smucker's Concord Grape Jelly (what I used to buy before food allergies and HFCS awareness invaded my life):

Concord grape juice, high fructose corn syrup, corn syrup, fruit pectin, citric acid, sodium citrate

High fructose corn syrup isn't really a surprise ingredient in this list. However, the main ingredient is, at least to me. The main ingredient in this jelly isn't the fruit it's labeled after, but the juice. So, there's even less nutritional quality to this jelly than you would think from the label.

Now, just switching to organic or 'natural' isn't enough. Most of the preserves and jellies that I've looked at, even the organic ones, list sugar or fruit syrup as the main ingredient. I would personally rather see actual fruit as the main ingredient since that is how I would do it if I made my own. I've got to be careful with all that, though, because Jackson has texture issues with berry seeds or skins.

Organic peanut butter has, up until recently, been something you had to refrigerate and stir (two things that do not go well together), and the flavor just wasn't the same. However, now, there are some really great brands with yummy flavors that provide comforting labels for the ingredient conscious. One of Jackson's favorites is Peanut Butter & Co. Cinnamon Raisin Swirl (I know, he can handle raisins in his peanut butter but not seeds in his jelly. Crazy, right?).

The bread is the tough part. Yes. There are whole wheat versions out there that will have whole wheat flour as the first ingredient, but you're likely still going to see things like sodium stearol lactylate (a dough conditioner) and calcium propionate (a preservative).

Our favorite sandwich bread, Martin's 100% Whole Wheat Potato Bread, has some things in it that I would rather not be there, like soybean oil and those pesky dough conditioners and preservatives. However, it really is the best tasting whole wheat bread out of all those plastic wrapped mass produced loaves. Like 'my kids never noticed when I switched to wheat bread' tasting. So, for now, it's the best option for us. That is unless a bakery decides to open near us or I decide to start waking before dawn and dedicate an entire day to bread production only to watch it mold by the end of the week.

So, this is how we do PB&J in our house. Skippy Natural Peanut Butter, Welch's Natural Spread, and Martin's 100% Whole Wheat Potato Bread.

Happy New Year!

Good morning. How are those New Year's resolutions coming? Have you managed to work in more quality time for the family? Got your home organized? Stuck to that diet plan? Kept up with the exercise program? Made a dent in your debt to income ratio? Me? Well, I've fallen behind. Like, so far behind, I'm lost and will likely never be found again. Sometime in January my badly weathered person will muster enough breath to resolve never to resolve again before collapsing on the heap of unmet goals.

Let's evaluate the pile.

Resolution #1: Read through the Bible twice. Ha. I've been 3 days from the end of the first go round for about a month now. I keep readjusting the time frame (if you have a Bible app, I've hit 'catch me up' more times than I can count).

Resolution #2: Blog at least once a week. Hmmmm. That would mean I should have about 30 posts. That number at the bottom of this blog says 23 (well, after I post this one, it will say 24), and that is after I re-blogged two of my favorite recipes from a while back. I'm not sure those count.

Resolution #3: Write in my journal at least once a day. Hahahahaha! We're not even going to go there. Let's just say that voice you hear in your head when you're reading things, you know the one that goes along with what you're reading (well, at least there's a voice in my head when I read, maybe that explains more about me than I should be sharing, but anyway....), that voice went from super cool and totally awesome (obviously) to the most boring monotone Ben Stein-ish narration to my totally unexciting life. Well, that or a whiny Fran Drescher complaining about her totally unexciting life. I got tired of the voices in my head and the writer's cramp in my hand, and decided to concentrate on my blog. Ha. That went well.

Resolution #4: Yoga three times a week. Once again I'm lol-ing while I type. I will say however, we did get a treadmill (so I can't use the kids as an excuse not to run), and I learned about strength training at home. Right now, I'm running about 3 miles per session (when I'm not nursing an injury), and I did my first 5k race just a couple of weeks ago. However, I will NOT be posting the time. When I reach my goal of a 22 minute 5k, I'll post that time for sure.

Resolution #5: Finish my masters. I'm currently 2 classes away from finishing. The problem is, that's the same distance away from graduating I was when this year started.

Resolution #6: Potty train my 3 year old. Now, this one makes me laugh the most because in this process I've discovered that I must be the most incompetent potty trainer this world has ever seen. I mean, really! How hard is it to teach an intelligent capable child to stop messing in their pants? Apparently something a man with a doctorate and a woman with a (almost) graduate degree can't figure out. It's like this child has been trained in military level resistance and diversion tactics. I've nearly resolved (hahaha, there's that word again) to resign this process to her (not yet registered and school starts Wednesday) new preschool teacher and friends in class this year.

Resolution #7 and 8: These are private and no where near completion. If I accomplish them, you'll know, trust me.

Resolution #9: Play my piano every day. This is by far one of the most relaxing things for me. I can go from completely tense and good for nothing frustrated to calm and focused in just 15 minutes. Unfortunately, my keyboard (Korg Concert XC 2000, which I got for a birthday present when I was 17) isn't working. A couple of the keys stick or don't make a sound, and the pedals no longer work. Can't afford a new one, and the nearest place to have it fixed is about an hour away. I miss it. A LOT.

Resolution #10: Live more purposefully. I'm a planner at heart. I like things to go the way I've decided they should go, but I'm obviously still floundering around allowing life to dictate where I'm headed rather than me or my God. This just adds to my frustration and causes me to want to crawl in bed with a half gallon of rocky road ice cream and refuse to emerge until the lactose forces me out. Actually, this was the main reason I made resolutions this year. Because I wanted to set goals and see them accomplished, on purpose, not because the stars aligned and I just happened to be in the right place at the right time doing the right thing.

At the very bottom of my resolution entry in my journal, this is what I wrote:

"May the Lord direct your hearts to the love of God and to the steadfastness of Christ." 

2 Thes. 3:5

"My hope for this year is to be directed by God to His love and steadfastness. To finally learn to trust Him and to believe that He does love me. He is good, and He really does work all things for my good."

Where's that carton of rocky road?

Once again, I'm facing the beginning of another year, the school year. I'm going to have 3 kids in 3 different schools (well, that is if I can get my daughter registered and IF they still have an opening). One in a home school parent lead education program, one in public school and special education program, and one in preschool. If I ever needed to be organized and goal oriented, now is the time, but it just seems like the harder I work, the less I get done. We have hamsters (adorable, smelly little creatures that like to poop as soon as you pull them out of their cages), and they LOVE their wheels, especially at about 3-4am, but that's another topic. I often find myself feeling like I'm stuck on that darn wheel, running until I can't run anymore, eventually collapsing in the same place I started. There has to be a better way.

For what am I striving, exactly? Perfection? I think so, and I think my head and heart must have missed the memo telling all of us humans that perfection isn't possible in this life. I'm starting to think I might need to scrap all these resolutions and concentrate on that last line in my journal. "To finally trust Him and to believe that He does love me. He is good, and He really does work all things for my good."

So, here's to another school year! Maybe we should toast with juice boxes and throw confetti in the air. No, wait, I'll have to clean that up. Let's just stick to the juice. May I trust my God with my harried life, my children and my goals, and allow Him to make it all good.

Happy New Year!

Better Than Bojangles Biscuits

Light, fluffy and melt in your mouth good.

I originally posted this recipe a couple of years ago. It is in my opinion absolutely the best biscuit recipe there is, and good enough to please my biscuit snob husband. There are only a handful of things I can cook as good or better than his mama or grandmama, and this would be one of those things. My food allergic son has only had mine and his Nonna's biscuits, but my non-food allergic son will often remark while eating a biscuit from Cracker Barrel or Bojangles and tell me, "Mommy, yours are better." After which he can have pretty much anything he wants. He knows just how to butter up his mommy, tell her she's pretty and/or compliment her cooking. :-)

Anyway, these freeze well. When school starts I'll have a dozen or so of these little suckers frozen with chicken nuggets or sausage patties to use for quick homemade breakfast when I don't have time for homemade. I've also found they do just fine swapping out some of the flour for whole wheat pastry flour. I usually go half and half. Now, my husband noticed immediately that I had switched things around telling me not to mess with a Southern man's biscuit, but my kids eat them just as well as with the white flour. So, that's the way they will be getting their school breakfast biscuits. The thing you don't want to skimp on with biscuits like this would be the fat. That's what makes a southern melt in your mouth biscuit do just that.

I found the original recipe in Natalie Dupree's Southern Memories cookbook listed as the closest to the perfect biscuit recipe as she's ever found. I altered it to fit my son's food allergies and made it my own, but it is still pretty close to perfect.
To make it dairy free, you can use palm oil shortening in stead of butter and almond, soy or rice milk in stead of the buttermilk. You will just need to reduce the liquid and increase the fat you choose to keep the same consistency.

1 1/2 C Self-Rising Flour, natural and unbleached
1/8 tsp Baking Soda
1/2 tsp Salt
1 Tbsp Sugar
3 Tbsp Butter, plus 2 Tbsp melted for brushing
3/4 C Whole Buttermilk, maybe a little more depending on the consistency

Preheat your oven to 450 degrees F. Grease an iron skillet or 8-inch round cake pan. In a medium mixing bowl, combine flour, soda, salt and sugar. Work in the butter with your fingers or pastry cutter until there are no lumps larger than a small pea. (You can put this mixture in an air tight container and keep in the refrigerator for a week or two, then just add your buttermilk, shape and bake.) Stir in the buttermilk and let the dough stand for a couple minutes. The mixture will be wet.

Pour about a cup of flour onto a plate or cutting board. Flour your hands well and spoon biscuit sized lumps of wet dough onto the plate of flour (I use an ice cream scoop).

Coat lumps with flour and work back and forth with your hands to shake off excess flour. As you shape each biscuit, place onto the skillet or cake pan placing the biscuits together so they rise against each other. Too much room will make them spread out.

Melt about 2 Tbsp butter and brush the biscuits. Bake for 15-18 minutes at 450 degrees F, or until lightly browned.

Makes about 6 biscuits.

Homemade Nuggets

 

Chicken nuggets are a staple in most kids' diets. If you've got a food allergic kid, though, it can be tough to find any that are both safe and tasty. I gave up on that whole idea and figured out how to just do it myself. Now, even my non-allergic kids prefer my nuggets to Chick-Fil-A's. I've found that the key to good nuggets is buttermilk.

You can use boneless skinless chicken breasts, thighs or tenders. Cut them into about 1 inch chunks (I use scissors for that, makes it much more precise). Then place them in buttermilk to soak for at least 30 minutes (in the fridge). If you're cooking a pound of chicken and using a pretty good size bowl, you shouldn't need more than a cup or so of buttermilk. You can use soy milk to go dairy free, or even mix up a vinegar/salt brine to soak them in (just like your Holiday bird). You'll get the same effect just a little different flavor. While they're soaking, mix up your flour and seasoning.

For a pound of chicken, put about a cup of flour into a ziploc bag or bowl. Use self-rising flour (always natural and unbleached) for the 'extra crispy' crust, and all-purpose for the 'original' crust. You can go gluten-free and use rice flour, too (add a tsp of baking powder to the mix for more of an 'extra crispy' like crust). Add about a teaspoon of seasoning (recipe below), close the bag and shake well, or if you're using a bowl, whisk well to evenly distribute seasoning.

Start heating your oil to about 375 degrees F. You don't have to have a fryer to do this, and since I hate to reuse the oil when I fry meat, I usually fry these in my iron skillet anyway. You want to put enough oil to fill the pan about a half an inch or so deep. You can test the temp with a fry thermometer or wet your fingers and sprinkle some water in the pan. When it bubbles and sizzles you're ready.

Once your nuggets have soaked a little while, take them out of the buttermilk and put them dripping wet into the bag or bowl with the flour mixture. Shake them up or toss them well to get an even coating.

Once your oil is hot, drop the nuggets in one at a time, if you're frying in a skillet. You don't want to over crowd them. They'll make the temp drop in your oil a little, and if you put too many in at once, they'll stick together and end up greasy.

Let them cook for about 2-5 minutes on each side. Until you get used to frying, you'll need a meat thermometer to make sure they're done (about 165 degrees F). It is especially hard to tell when you go gluten free because the rice flour doesn't brown like wheat flour. Try this a few times, though, and you won't need the thermometer anymore.

Let them cool completely, but don't let them sit too long (they'll get soggy). Place them in a freezer bag and place in your freezer. When you're ready for a quick nugget meal, pull what you need out of the freezer and cook them in your oven. 400 degrees F for about 10-15 minutes or until heated through.

Seasoning

We like it spicy, and the more 'red' you put in the flour (especially if you're going gluten free), the more yummy your final product will look. You can add a little extra paprika and leave out the cayenne if you're worried about it being too spicy.

2 teaspoons paprika
2 teaspoons salt
2 teaspoons garlic powder
1 teaspoon black pepper
1 teaspoon onion powder
1 teaspoon cayenne pepper

Combine all the spices in a ziploc bag or tupperware container. Mix well. Store for up to 3 months or so.

Perspective is Everything

This morning was one of THOSE mornings. While I got up on time and got my shower before the kids got up (a rare treasure during the Summer), that was about the only thing that went right until we were in the car. Jackson didn't want to come down for breakfast. He didn't want to eat what I fixed. He didn't want to wear the clothes I picked out for him. My other children were exacerbating the problem, picking at Jackson and whining about him whining. Every transition was a struggle, and I found myself extremely frustrated. We finally make it to the car and are on our way to our play date. Yes. I was stressing about leaving late to play at a friend's house who would have been more than understanding of our tardiness, and for that matter, a friend that would have been totally fine with Jackson coming in his pajamas, bed head and flip flops. It was somehow too hard for me to just take it all in stride this particular morning. The tension filled my body, stiff and numb trying to clear my head so I don't end up complaining to the other mom the whole play date, I turned on the radio and began to listen to Addison Road's What Do I Know of Holy. Then we pass a funeral procession, and just like I do every time I see one of those, I prayed, "God, help them." Then I'm suddenly overcome and start balling like a baby.

There has been so much death in our friend and family circle lately. Some lost precious children, some fathers, mothers, brothers. Still others are facing deadly diseases threatening to take a loved one away at any moment. I couldn't help but compare my morning and all its frustration to the morning of those following that hearse. One of those mortal moments when the frailty of my own human condition and the fragility of the life in my care brought me to tears. The next few moments passed as my mind was flooded with the remembrance of so many blessings. The blessing of my son and all he is, autism included, stood out in those blessings. As hard as it has been adjusting to the special care he requires, this disease will not take him from me too early, and as hard as it is to handle the frustration that builds up from the life we live, I'm not following a hearse.

Perspective is everything.

Note: I shortened this after rereading it the next morning.

Happy Ever After and a Decade of Real Life

 How exactly do you stay married to someone you have nothing in common with? I wish I could say I have the answer, but "you just do" doesn't really cut it since life tends to be more complicated than that. I guess a better question might be, how did you get married in the first place?

My husband and I don't like the same kind of music, movies, tv, pass times, sports, passions, food, decorating style, fashion, books....I could keep going, really. He's a doctor. I'm an artist. He's concrete. I'm abstract. He went to public school. I was homeschooled. He went to a large secular university. I went to a small private college. He works to provide for our family. I work to keep us all from starving, stinking or streaking. He's a natural born leader. I'm more of a free spirit. About the only thing we have in common is our children and our faith.


I've often asked myself over the past ten years how exactly did this happen? How did two people so very different make it down the isle? And, how have we avoided the courtroom? Well, if I ever have that lightening bolt revelation, I'll let you know right before I write my own marriage self help book to add to the plethora of dusty books on my book case. I will say that the older I get, the more I realize how little I really do know about life and just how much I need help.

There was a time when my husband and I had more in common than it seems we do now. One of my favorite things about him was how we could talk for hours and I could ask him a million questions (usually about science or medicine), and he would just keep talking and answering as if he never got tired. He's a natural born leader like I mentioned above, but his gift is teaching. He can break down the most complicated concepts and explain them to anyone in a way they can understand. He won awards for patient communication in med school and residency, and it hasn't really changed. His patients LOVE him, and it's not all about how knowledgeable he is as a doctor (which I will say, he's pretty darn smart). It's about how much he cares about each and every one of them, even the difficult ones. His gift for teaching and communicating drew me in like a magnet, it makes him a better doctor and a better father, too. The best teaching moments, the ones I hope I remember all the way to my last breath, are the ones he shares with our children.

He works very hard to provide for our family. He always has, even when things weren't looking so good for us. That has allowed me the ability to devote myself completely to our children, especially  to Jackson's ever changing needs. He handles the bread winning so I can handle the bread making, and I am VERY thankful for that.

His type B personality is a pretty good compliment to my type A. His relaxed "it will all work out" temperment helps balance out my "the world is going to end right NOW" mentality. We might not have a whole lot in common, but maybe that's a good thing.

I believe my husband and I are together because God put us together, not to provide happiness but friction, the kind that smooths out rough edges and rusty patches. Iron sharpening iron (Prov. 27:17). I believe God is working in us and through us to give us MORE than happily ever after here on Earth, but abundant life with Him forever.

So, after 10 years, three kids, an autism diagnosis, and a whole lot of crazy life, I don't think it's so much about finding the right one, but about becoming the right one, together. Here's to another ten years of sharpening. Maybe by then we'll have it all figured out.

Marshmallow Protein Bars

I didn't like all the interesting ingredients in my favorite store bought protein bar. So, I decided I would try to make my own. The only thing is I didn't know how to bind it without adding the unpronounceable junk they do at the manufacturer. I was making Rice Krispie treats for my kids for the Fourth of July, so I decided I would use the other half of the marshmallow mixture and see what happened. The bars turned out REALLY good in flavor, but that's just too much sugar for it to be a 'healthy' snack or workout fuel. Also, they were kinda sticky (the way homemade marshmallow goes if you don't use confectioner's sugar or starch  to coat while they're setting). I've got another idea I'll post about later, but here's the recipe for these. If you're not counting calories or OFF sugar, these are really good! My husband and my oldest son kept nibbling while they were still warm. The best part of this recipe is the homemade marshmallow!

3 cups almonds, chopped
2 cups peanuts, chopped
3/4 cup sunflower kernels
3/4 cup pecans
1/2 cup Rice Krispies (added these as a filler, will probably use oats next time)
2 tbsp butter, melted
2 tsp honey

3 packages unflavored gelatin
1 cup ice cold water, divided
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 cup Lyle's Golden Syrup
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Place the gelatin into the bowl of a stand mixer along with 1/2 cup of the water. Have the whisk attachment standing by. In a small saucepan combine the remaining 1/2 cup water, granulated sugar, syrup and salt. Place over medium high heat, cover and allow to cook for 3 to 4 minutes. Uncover, clip a candy thermometer onto the side of the pan and continue to cook until the mixture reaches 240 degrees F, approximately 7 to 8 minutes. Once the mixture reaches this temperature, immediately remove from the heat. Turn the mixer on low speed and, while running, slowly pour the sugar syrup down the side of the bowl into the gelatin mixture. Once you have added all of the syrup, increase the speed to high. Continue to whip until the mixture becomes very thick and is lukewarm, approximately 12 to 15 minutes. Add the vanilla during the last minute of whipping.

While the mixture is whipping, spray a large bowl with cooking spray or coat with oil. Add the nuts and Krispies, then the butter and honey. After the marshmallows are done whipping, pour half the mixture into the bowl with the nuts. Mix well.

[You may want to add more or less of the nuts to get the combo and texture you like. You can use a completely different combo. You just want to have around 7 cups worth of whatever dry ingredients you use to make the right ratio of nut mixture to marshmallow ratio.]

Lay out on parchment paper or greased cutting board. Shape into large square or squares. Wait for it to cool and harden, about an hour or so. Cut into bars and enjoy. Makes about 24 bars.

You will have half the marshmallow recipe left. After pouring the marshmallow into the nut mixture, pour the other half into a greased or lined cookie sheet and sprinkle with confectioner's sugar or starch and let it set. Homemade marshmallows are the BEST! One of those things once you have the homemade version, you'll never want the processed styrofoam they sell at the store again.

Ok. Enough About Me, Let's Talk About Food

I started this blog to give me a place to share our autism story and provide a way for me to share our corn-free and/or egg-free recipes. I think it's gotten a little heavy on the 'story' and a little light on the recipes. It's not that I'm not cooking. I just haven't really had much time or energy for experimentation with new recipes. However, I've been working on a few things lately. Especially given my new found conviction for 'clean eating'. That's hard enough for a grown up who wants to change their lifestyle. It's a whole other challenge when you're talking about changing your children's eating habits, too. Not that their diet is crazy unhealthy right now. Just not what I would like it to be.

I decided to start things out with small measurable goals. That's the way you get where you want with a fitness program. I figure that's a good idea for new nutrition goals, too.

My first goal this year will be to find a vegetable I can get them to eat raw. Raw fruit, no problem. There's not much they'll turn down. Well, except for Jackson. He won't eat anything with seeds. Texture issues. Raw veggies, no way. Not even covered in ranch dressing. That's their dad's fault. He won't eat anything like that. No ranch or sour cream. I can get them to eat most steamed veggies when I make it a requirement for getting a treat after their meal. Hey, you gotta do what you gotta do. However, I want them to enjoy the benefits of raw veggies, too. We started with cucumber salad, one of my favorite summer veggie treats. I cut the onions really big so they could pick them out. Can't expect a kid to eat straight raw onions, right?

Cucumber Salad

1 Cucumber
1 Tomato
1/2 Onion
1 tsp fresh chopped Cilantro
1-2 tsp Olive Oil
Sea Salt or Kosher Salt to taste
Pepper to taste

Peel and slice cucumbers. Slice or cube tomatoes. Chop onion and cilantro. Combine veggies and cilantro in a bowl. Drizzle EVOO over the top. Salt and pepper to taste. Makes enough for about 4 good servings.

Well, I guess I should have said, you can't expect a kid to eat straight raw cucumbers or tomatoes either. I swear I could eat most of it all by myself, but they didn't like it. Oh, well. On to the next experiment. I've crumbled feta cheese over the top before. My sister-in-law uses my recipe but adds carrots. I think I'll keep trying this with other raw veggies until I find a combo they all like. Farmer's market here I come!

Running for my Life

Have you heard about the Oxygen Mask Project? It was started by a few special needs moms applying the airplane oxygen mask principle to their daily lives and attempting to encourage other parents to do the same. You know the one, that you have to put your own mask on before you can help your children or anyone else with you. In order to properly care for our families, we have to care for our selves first. Our spiritual and physical well being isn't something to be pushed aside for everyone around us, but something we should tend to carefully and purposefully.

Those of you who know me well, know that I'm extremely undisciplined and OCD at the same time. Not a good combination for mental and physical health. I have two speeds, "I'll get to it when I get to it" and "Oh, NO, they'll be here in 10 minutes I have to wash the windows!" I've figured out if I could just find that happy medium between the two speeds, my life would be much less hectic. How do you do that? By adding one discipline at a time until it's a habit and building on those disciplines until you have a good routine. Well, that's what I've been told. I'll let you know how all that goes when I reach that level of enlightenment. In the mean time, I'm making an attempt to apply the oxygen mask principle in my life and acting on a strong new conviction for maintaining my physical health.

I'm quite ashamed lately at just how out of shape I let myself get. Now, you wouldn't have really known I was unhealthy from the outside. I'm one of those naturally skinny people that other people like to hate. It's genetic. My mom was always thin. Her sister was always thin. My brothers are skinny. Most of my cousins on my mom's side are super skinny. My doctor husband swears I have some kind of thyroid problem, but has yet to find any evidence of that besides a few incidental symptoms and the fact that I can pretty much eat whatever I want and not be as big as a house. Here's the thing though. You don't have to look fat to be UNhealthy, and you don't have to look skinny to BE healthy. It's not about the outside. It's about the inside. Sound familiar? Jesus had something to say about the power of the mind and the inner man. In God's eyes, lust is equal with adultery, rage is equal with murder, etc. He chastised the religious elite of his day for washing the outside of the cup and ignoring the filth on the inside. I've been quite surprised at the parallels between physical fitness and spiritual fitness lately. More on that in a bit.

I had deteriorated into weak and helpless or, as I like to call it, skinny fat. You hear people say all the time that you never know how valuable your health is until you lose it. Well, I want to cherish that gift. I want to be real physically and spiritually. I want to know that I will be around in my best condition to care for my children into their adulthood, specifically Jackson, should that take more than the usual 18 years. I don't want to just LOOK healthy because I'm skinny. I want to BE healthy, inside and out. So, putting on my oxygen mask and taking care of my own physical well being, I started making some changes.

My husband bought me a treadmill (I would say he bought US a treadmill, but he's only used it twice), and I got started. I cut out ALL sugar from my diet (except for vitamin water and protein bars when I ran), and began a walk-a-little, run-a-little beginner's program. It was awesome! I felt so productive and cool, and I was doing really well until I got to the part where the running time started exceeding the walking time. That's when the trouble started. My shins started to hurt. I pushed through and kept up with the program. Three times a week, 30 minutes a session. Then the pain got so bad I could hardly walk after. My husband said it was probably just the muscles rather than shin splints or anything serious. They were just not used to all the activity. I was a little offended at the idea, but I used it as an excuse to buy new shoes and pushed through (new shoes make everything better). He was right. My legs were just that weak. Then my knees started hurting the same kind of way, nearly unbearable, even on my off days. At this point, my mental fortitude started to crumble. "Maybe I'm just not cut out for this. Maybe I should find something else to do, something easier." Somehow I kept pushing through. I just wasn't ready to give up yet. I wasn't ready to say I had failed, AGAIN, at yet another thing. I got up to 2 miles a session only walking to warm up and cool down (bringing the total mileage to 3 miles a session). Then I got bored. What am I supposed to do for 30 minutes three times a week while my body is screaming at me to stop this craziness and go have some pie? I figured out I could read while I ran, awesome! Then I decided I would have to buy all large print books for that because it was just too hard to read while I was bouncing up and down. Maybe my eye sight is failing in my old age. Then I figured out how to run while surfing pinterest or watching tv. That helped for a little while, but I just couldn't get used to the new format. Television and internet are activities best enjoyed while sitting on the couch or comfy desk chair, preferably eating a yummy snack. Of course I tried music, audio books and sermons, but I just couldn't figure out how to keep my mind focused while my body did what I told it to do. Running outside hasn't worked out since the only times I can really do that is before my husband leaves for work or later when everyone is settled at night, and my paranoid husband thinks someone is going to kidnap me if I do that. So, the treadmill is it for me.

I thought this was supposed to be fun. People run for fun, right? For that runners high? Things are harder when you can't agree with yourself. I started slowing down. Struggling with every session. I had been doing yoga longer than I had been running, and I started to think maybe that was more my speed. I had added strength training to my routine, and was enjoying the fruits of that labor. (My arms look awesome!) I tried jumping rope. Oh my! That's not a good idea for a woman who has had three kids and is extremely out of shape. I will spare you the details, but I will say my twelve year old self would have been rolling on the ground busting a gut laughing at my 29+ year old self attempting that routine. I kind of wish I had a camera rolling. I could have won some kind of reality show prize, seriously! Somehow, I kept running, and somewhere in the middle of all this, my knees stopped hurting. Yay! I then started struggling with my left hip, complications from an injury during my first pregnancy. Are you kidding me? Really? Is the pain just going to creep up my body one joint group at a time? What is going on?

My new diet wasn't cutting it, either. I NEEDED sugar! I had no energy, and was really struggling by the end of the day. Severe fatigue and headache by about 6pm. If sugar is a no-no, then what am I supposed to eat to reach the caloric intake I need to maintain my weight while increasing my activity? I give up. Give me CANDY! No, wait. Maybe I can balance this out. So, we're back to my original thought process in figuring out Jackson's diet. Sugar is NOT the enemy, especially with moderation and proper portioning. No junk does not necessarily mean no sugar. Then I pulled a muscle, not while I was running actually. That was all I needed to just completely melt down. I'm trying SO hard, and I'm eating right while my husband enjoys his ice cream and junk food and has somehow lost 12 pounds just mowing the grass and not eating fast food. It's not fair. Now what am I supposed to do?

This is when God hit me with more parallels between the physical and spiritual realness I was after.

1. Making the inside of my body match the outside is going to take time, and it's going to hurt, apparently a LOT.
Parallel: Making the life I'm living a reflection of my heart's condition rather than the screen I use to keep everyone from seeing the real condition of my heart is going to take time, and it's going to hurt, probably a LOT more than all this healthy stuff is going to hurt my body.

2. I'm not an athletic person. I've never been an athletic person. My body is going to go through a period of shock as I try to add these new activities in my life, especially having waited SO late in my life to begin this new lifestyle.
Parallel: I'm not a disciplined person. I've never been a disciplined person. My heart is going to go through a period of shock as I try to add new spiritual disciplines in my life, especially having waited SO long to begin this new lifestyle.

That doesn't mean it isn't worth it.

Tomorrow I plan to run again for the first time in nearly four weeks. Hopefully, this muscle has healed and I can get back into my original routine, and hopefully, I can use my future running experiences to fuel more spiritual discovery.

One of my favorite quotes:

"You do not have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body." - C.S. Lewis

I want to push my body to it's limits. I want to experience how health feels when you earn it. I want to push my spirit to it's limits as well. I want to remove the weights and hindrances that hold me back from experiencing abundant life, the kind earned for me on Calvary. I can't help but feel like they're intertwined right now, my physical health and my spiritual health. So, I feel like I'm running for my life. It would be nice if I could figure out a way to make running spiritual WHILE I'm doing it, but so far the only prayers I can get out sound like "Oh, God, it hurts. Help me." Things like that. We'll see. The thing I need to push for right now is perseverance, something I've lacked my whole life. Gotta stick it out, and see where I am when this race is over.

Note: I wrote this post last night, but somehow it didn't post before I signed out. So, I'll just go ahead and tell you that my run this morning was awesome! It did start hurting again, the pulled muscle. More of a tightness than a pain. So, I quit at a mile and a half, but it felt SO good! That plus my strength training, and I'm feeling like I can conquer the world again. To quote a little fish I have always felt a strong connection with, "just keep swimming, just keep swimming." Or, in my case, just keep running. The race isn't over until you meet your Savior face to face; so, just keep going.