He He He

The Washington Post holds a yearly neologism contest, in which readers are asked to supply alternate meaning for common words. They made me laugh anyway.
Enjoy!

1. Coffee (n.), the person upon whom one coughs.

2. Flabbergasted (adj.), appalled over how much weight
you have gained.

3. Abdicate (v.), to give up all hope of ever having a
flat stomach.

4. Esplanade (v.), to attempt an explanation while
drunk.

5. Negligent (adj.), describes a condition in which
you absentmindedly answer the door in your nightgown.

6. Lymph (v.), to walk with a lisp.

7. Gargoyle (n.), olive-flavored mouthwash.

8. Flatulence (n.) emergency vehicle that picks you up
after you are run over by a steamroller.

9. Balderdash (n.), a rapidly receding hairline.

10. Testicle (n.), a humorous question on an exam.

11. Rectitude (n.), the formal, dignified bearing
adopted by proctologists.

12. Pokemon (n), a Rastafarian proctologist.

15. Oyster (n.), a person who sprinkles his
conversation with Yiddishisms.

16. Frisbeetarianism (n.), (back by popular demand):
The belief that, when you die, your Soul flies up onto
the roof and gets stuck there.

Life's Greatest Mystery....Solved!

Random, I know, but did anyone else ever wonder what was up with Tiny Tim's gimpy leg? Apparently, modern day scientists have their own theory on Dicken's beloved handicapped hero.

http://www.livescience.com/health/071221-tiny-tim.html

Just goes to show that random googleing can lead down any road.

Christmas Thoughts

I was listening to my list of Christmas songs during the kiddos' naps.

Things were still.

I was still.

And a thought occured to me.

My favorite secular Christmas tunes have a hint of melancholy about them. Maybe melancholy is too strong- longing then. "I'll be Home for Christmas," "White Christmas," so on. As I thought further (a rare occurence during this stage of my life), I began to really think about Christmas itself. A night of God's awesome display of his love. But the often overlooked part, a baby born to die.

For me.

For you.

"Jingle Bells" and "Rudolph" have their place, I suppose, but this season I find them jarring and something akin to attempting to make a shallow smile substitute for the majesty and bittersweet arrival of Jesus. The world tells us Christmas is a "happy time" yet happy seems so trivial. I love Christmas not because it makes me happy but because of the humbling joy as I ponder God's greatest show of love.

To sacrifice His son.

The older I get, the more I accept genuine emotion over the "I'm fine" attitude. I'm not airing out my dirty laundry for all the neighbors to see or bawling in the line at Target, instead, I realize that a life lived on the surface is just that-surface. Life is layered. Just like the arrival of Baby Jesus. Mary held her sweet baby in her arms only to watch him suffer acutely to the point of death in the apathetic, calloused hands of the Romans.

My layers are many this Christmas season. Joy at His arrival, weeping at his excruciating sacrifice, hope that He has given me. All wrapped up in swaddling cloth laid in a manger.

A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices!
O night divine, the night when Christ was born

Belated Halloween

Why do we love to dress up our children?
Let me present exhibit A:



As I walked through a crowded room my hair would catch the breeze of all the older mother's collective sighs.

I just felt yours too.




Okay, okay.. only one more shameless promotion of my own childrens' cuteness. (Ignore Bo Peep's tired expression)



Oops- I lied. And you like it!

Why can't we be a normal family?

I ask you this simple question: "What is normal?"

In my book "normal" would include a little housie, with a little doggie, and some little kiddies.

If a "normal" father and daughter went onto the front porch one evening, they would return empty handed, but, oh no no no, not this family.






Yes, everyone, that is a snake. (Seth assured me it was not venomous).



Yes, this is my daughter petting the snake. Perhaps we should keep it and add it to the fish and two Amazonian frogs living in our guest bathroom. Nothing says home like a reptile/amphibian collection.

As a child, my husband had not only snakes, but birds, turtles, minnows (they only live the night apparently before floating to the top in a stinky mass suicide), dogs, more dogs, horses, cats, more cats, a giant hairball they named "Fluffy" and so on. I can see my fate unfolding before my eyes. As soon as Wyatt is old enough, I will be so outnumbered our house will resemble Ace Ventura's. "Come to me my jungle friends."




I can only cling to the girlie side draped in fake jewelry and clacking around in high heels. Oh please win girlie side. I need an ally! I'll buy you all the lip gloss you want...

Food Glorious Food

I have been wanting to blog some of my favorite cookbooks and recipes since I started (all of a month ago). Some of yall (as in my five readers:) may not be cooks, but I PROMISE these babies will NOT let you down!

Chicken Enchiladas

Not hard or tricky but oh so good. You can freeze uncooked enchiladas and cook later BUT don't add sauce or toppings.

* 3 cups chopped cooked chicken
* 2 cups (8 ounces) shredded Monterey Jack cheese with peppers
* 1/2 cup sour cream
* 1 (4.5-ounce) can chopped green chiles, drained
* 1/3 cup chopped fresh cilantro
* 8 (8-inch) flour tortillas (get the good ones from HEB tortilla maker place)
* Vegetable cooking spray
* 1 (8-ounce) container sour cream
* 1 (8-ounce) bottle green taco sauce (get whatever heat level you want & the better the green sauce, the tastier your enchilada sauce)
* Toppings: diced tomato, chopped avocado, chopped green onions, sliced ripe olives, chopped cilantro (only put on if you aren't feeling lazy)

Preparation

Stir together first 5 ingredients. Spoon chicken mixture evenly over each tortilla, and roll up. Arrange in a lightly greased 13- x 9-inch baking dish. Coat tortillas with vegetable cooking spray.

Bake at 350° for 35 to 40 minutes or until golden brown.

Stir together sour cream and taco sauce. Spoon over hot enchiladas, and sprinkle with toppings.



**This comes from one of my all time fav cookbooks: Southern Living Our Reader's Top-Rated Recipes

**all these recipes can be found at Southernliving.com

also try:

-Hearty Potato Soup (sans bread bowl)-healthy!
-Chicken Fajita Pizza
-Chili-Rubbed Salmon
-Smoked Gouda Grits
-Chicken Pot Pie (cut waaaay back b/c it makes a TON)
-Hearty Tex-Mex Squash-Chicken Casserole
-Cheesy Shrimp and Grits Casserole (freezes great)
-Healthy White Spaghetti and Meatballs -more work but better for you
-Sweet Beer Bread-make me NOW!!! Oh BABY this is good warm!!!! and sooo easy!
-Garlic-Parmesan Pork Chops-quick prep time
-Peppery Chicken Fried Chicken-need I say more
-Grilled Salmon with Mustard Molasses Glaze
-Crunchy Cabbage Slaw
-Green Bean Salad w/ Feta
-Marinated Green Beans with Tomatoes, Olives and Feta (I left out olive-personal pref.)
-Two Cheese Squash Casserole
-Best Carrot Sheet Cake (my dad loooooves)
-Fudgy Chocolate Malt-Peppermint Pie (can only be made at X-mas b/c of Peppermint Ice Cream)
-Giant Spice Oatmeal Cookies -trust me!!! I'm not an oatmeal cookie fan but really good!
-Brownie Trifle -feeds a TON
-Old fashioned Bread Pudding with Bourbon Sauce (I went to Spec's pregnant with a toddler in tow to get Bourbon...classy!)
-Mocha Ice Cream-won the ice cream contest at church!

ENJOY & go make your husband fall in love again!

A Steel Cut Oats Day, Part Deaux-ish

Ok, here's the problem with creating a two part blog: I have to finish it. So I can move on quicker, I have decided to revise my normal writing style for a bullet format to finish the day and ill advised blog series.

-Steel Cut Oats disaster (see Part I)
-searched house for 20 minutes trying to find the new sheets for Shelby's bed (in Wyatt's closet)
-change tinkle sheets (Shelby's...not mine)
-commence what I will call "Battle of the Princess Stamps" (Nini so graciously gifted my toddler with princess stamps that she did not want to put away)
-get myself somewhat ready i.e. a step above homeless while Shelby lacquers up with lip gloss
-hop over piles of to-be-done laundry and load kids to begin errands (the fun can begin!)
-drop off the most obnoxiously large book at Goodwill (I mean who needs a 2.5' book of seek and find Elmo?)
-Target (focus, Shelley, focus! Get only what you NEED!) OOOOH! Young girl shirts on sale! Larger nipples for bottle: check. Wait in line to return 2 items: check. OOOOH! Princess panties for the potty trainer.
-Leaving Target with Shelby clutching new panties and fussy baby chewing on package but not before Shelby announces "I'VE GOT NEW PANTIES" to every person walking by.
-Return library books
-Get new library books
-shift baby to other arm in order to regain feeling in right arm (Wyatt exerts "0" effort to hold on)
-check books out
-"I'VE GOT NEW PANTIES" announced/yelled at checkout (hope there weren't any pervs in the Cinco Library kid's section)
-Load kids and marvel at Shelby's ability to hold 4 library books, 3 Target parking lot acorns, and 1 package of princess underwear all at once.
-Look down and realize my black coat has streaks of snot (thanks Wyatt)
-Undaunted, go to Bed, Bath and Beyond.
-Turn away for ONE SECOND and Wyatt is (OH THE HORROR!) sucking on the bar of the cart.
-Finish shopping
-Shelby informs male checker "I'VE GOT NEW PANTIES"
-He laughs and says he has three dogs
-Must drag my normally shy child out of store while attempting to tell male checker all about her own canine companions
-spray down children with disinfectant
-load children plus one additional acorn collected in parking lot
-make it home have lunch, put kids down for nap, and crash on couch before starting dinner

Yep, just another day in the Landry Household.

A Steel Cut Oats Day

I’ll admit it.

I’ve judged those moms. You know who I’m talking about. The ones that are wrinkled. The ones hauling 3.2 wailing kids around the store with their hair in a half-hearted ponytail trying desperately to keep order with her brood while choosing the ripest fruit.

How can I confess to judgment of these pitiful creatures? Because in a wicked twist of fate my put together young married life morphed into a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-sweatpants young mother’s life. It all hit home yesterday morning…

After reading an article about the lack of nutrition in quick cooking oats, I was so inspired to get as close to whole grain as possible I leapt from my chair, ran to the neighbor’s wheat field and began gnawing the stalks. Ok maybe in spirit this happened. Unfortunately for me, all my neighbor has in his yard are some lovely (but edibly questionable) flowers, and their consumption would surely drive a wedge into an otherwise congenial relationship while simultaneously causing major neighborhood gossip.

Where could I turn?

“Old Fashioned Oats that cook in five minutes,” you say.
“No! I might as well shovel sugar in their mouths and throw them in the sun with only 15 SPF!”
“What does the sun have to do with Old fashion-“
“DEVIL GET BEHIND ME!”

Ok, where was I? Oh yes, so I decide on what appeared to be the only nutritionally viable option available: steel cut oats (cue the horror music).

Now I have been burnt (figuratively) by these bad boys of the wheat world before, but, much like childbirth, all the painful parts mysteriously had disappeared from my memory. Two days ago, I placed my two cherubs in their breakfast positions and began to make what we will refer to as BATCH # 1. 1 ½ cup milk or water. Hmmm. Definitely going milk for the creaminess factor. Next, ¼ cup steel cut oats. Done. Third, bring to boil. Wait…a…second…Aren’t you not supposed to boil milk. By itself. Over high heat? Too late, I’ll push on to step four. Reduce to low and simmer for 25 minute. Ok, so I need to just..WHAT? 25 MINUTES! AS IN LIKE A HALF AN HOUR WHEN ROUNDING UP???? I have to BE somewhere in 25 minutes! Hence the end of BATCH #1 (sort of). I ended up revisiting BATCH #1 later when I had to scrub the scalded milk out of the bottom of the pan.

Hope springs eternal and yesterday morning I began what we will refer to as BATCH #2. There is a microwave option that consists of five minutes, stir, five more minutes. Easy peasy. I get a GIANT glass bowl (think 3qts+) with its coordinating lid. La de da, I’ll just go unload the dishwasher. When I look up, you can see what I did below.




Little did I know that the steel cut oats were only the beginning…



Stay tuned for “A Steel Cut Oats Day” Part II.

As My World Turns

Ok. You must believe me when I say I don’t watch soap operas. Like I have time. However, I flipped on the TV, was briefly distracted by my two-footed drooling machine, and when I zoned back in, the ensuing line was spoken by a tiny (yet buxom) blonde in scrubs who appeared distraught (yet lacked the ability to move her forehead).

“One of the nurses just told me Brad was shot, and Katie delivered her baby all by herself!”

Now, I just confessed my ignorance of all things soap opera, but I began to see what draws the viewers day after day…unanswered questions. Who is this Brad? Who is this Katie? Is Brad her baby daddy? Was he shot by the baby daddy thereby necessitating Katie’s solo delivery as the baby daddy fled the scene? Or are these just two mutually exclusive, random incidents whose only connection is the unfortunate blonde nurse having one heck of a day as her friends fall like dominoes around her while simultaneously experiencing upper-face paralysis?

Unfortunately for my questions, everyone on screen froze, breathed awkwardly for what seemed an eternity, and a commercial began.

I guess I'll never know.

Mis-adventures of the Disney Princesses

Britney Spears, Lindsey Lohan, and now this.






Just another young Disney ingenue succumbing to the pressures of growing up in the spotlight. They gave her the gift of song and the gift of beauty, unfortunately, not the gift of judgment. I mean, everyone knows Ariel is nothing but trouble. And the choice of wheels...

Thanks to Shelby, at least everyone was buckled in.

Note: Poor Prince Philip is always relegated to the back seat.

How the mighty have fallen.

Taming the Beast

Before...





After...

Call me Martha...

You are currently looking at my latest decorating endeavor. Who would have thought that plates hanging on a wall could bring such a sense of accomplishment?

Rocky I &II

You are looking at a very happy two year old. One whose father brought home a female baby squirrel dubbed "Rocky." (We do not observe gender specific names at our house as evident by the girl doll named "Colin").




See how she clings so tenaciously to the doctor's shirt...


...just not as tenaciously to life.

That's right Rocky did not make it. Feel free to dab away the tear. Mom and Dad's reaction, however, was "What to we tell the very happy two year old from the 1st photo?"



Our options left for a questioning two year old are as follows

A) explain that life is short and Rocky is chewing on the big acorn in the sky OR...

B) tell a leeeetle white lie









Meet Rocky II (the II is silent) who lives in a tree in our front yard.

Blackberry Season

Woo hoo! Look at me because I am on fire! Two posts within a week. Must be a record.

I was actually going back over my last post and realized it sounded a little down. Yes, motherhood can be full of burn out, lack of rest, whining (from you and the kids), but, then, there are those moments-the ones that sneak up on us unexpectedly - a soft brush of the face by your toddler's hand at bedtime, watching your little one bow their head for prayer, the unfiltered joy in your baby's face when you reach to pick them up...

These are the moments that mommies remember when their kids grow up and leave. It explains why any older mom in a ten mile radius always wants to hold my baby. One sniff of the baby smell and some sweet memory dimmed by time comes wafting back.

Memories are a precious gift. As I mentioned before, time does not stop, but it can in our mind like the first scene in "Father of the Bride" when Steve Martin is listening to his fully grown daughter tell him she is engaged, yet he only sees the young girl he raised. Will I see the same things?

All this rambling was brought on by a long forgotten poem I quickly sketched out after an afternoon spent with my sister and her son at my parent's farm. Our only kids at the time were both about 18 months, and blackberry season was in full swing. Their excitement over the little bitter berries as they popped them in their mouths was priceless. The day ended with all of us pleasantly squished on the porch swing singing songs ranging from "Jesus Loves Me" to "America the Beautiful."

There are times when experience surpasses the language to describe it. I'll just let the poem explain the afternoon.

Blackberry Season


dimpled hands
with plump fingers
eagerly reaching for more
dandelion explosions
beneath stained puckered lips
an afternoon
sprinkled with gold dust



An afternoon sprinkled with gold dust...

Half Full Coffee Mugs?

Perhaps the half drunk coffee mugs scattered over my house can now serve a purpose other than to embarrass me if someone comes over.

What purpose does cold, congealed coffee in a nondescript mug possess? you ask. (Don't act like you're not the one asking because I can feel your daggers of judgment across cyberspace.)

It simply serves as a highly accurate metaphor of my current life. No longer can I get through a peaceful cup of coffee nor do I have the brain cells left after two births to remember to go back and get the cup in question and put it in the sink. Oh, there it will sit-next to the computer, on the bathroom sink, in front of the coffee maker-as a silent beacon. How I long to return to you sweet java and drink your energy giving nectar. How I wish I had the time to drink my coffee.

But, in all the chaos that I call life, I recognize that time is eluding me even now. Soon potty training accidents will be funny stories of a time long ago. Permanent teeth will take the place of each hard-fought-for baby tooth. My children will no longer drool on me or require my help to bathe. They will know which shoe goes on which foot. Soon, the only hair and teeth I will have to brush will be my own.

So I will see the mug as half full.

A mute testament encapsulating this unique time in my life. Time that will be gone soon enough

...Unlike the last half of my coffee.

A New Voyage

And so it begins. An entire website dedicated to my brilliant musings and clever antics from my children. I wonder how the website will keep up with the onslaught of readers. Keep in touch for more later. The process of setting the blogspot up and choosing a template has left me drained for this evening of all creative juices.