picking up where we left off

I just got back from my sister Johannah's house, where we spent the morning making various confectionary delights for tomorrow's overwhelmingly large Thanksgiving celebration (Something like twenty people at Thanksgiving equals craziness in my book).

Jo made a pumpkin pie (yawn!), an apple cranberry tart (double yawn, people) and a completely ridiculous butterscotch brownie cake with gooey ganachey goodness (I'll totally give her credit for that one). I flexed my impressive culinary skills and made a pumpkin streusel-topped pie and a roasted sweet potato cheesecake with sour cream and maple syrup and all sorts of deliciousness inside.

Some of you may remember that Johannah is a bit of a domestic overachiever...and I think she was obviously threatened by my fabulous dessert-making skills, because she actually made a joke about how I was the slowest pie maker ever... oh, pshaw.

Dear sister of mine... you see this? This is homemade pecan crust... and these sweet potatoes? Oh yes, I roasted them myself. And nobody cuts corners when assembling a good streusel topping -- the repercussions would be disastrous. You don't rush GENIUS! I think she could tell that while I might have lost a few tenths in execution... I more than made up for it in degree of difficulty.

The only way I could lose the gold medal -- err, the... Thanksgiving pie bakeoff competition I'm holding in my own mind -- is if the judges find out that I forgot to put ANY spices into the cheesecake until it had already been in the oven for 5 minutes... at which point I had to pull it out and stir them in. I'll pull a Tonya Harding though and blame my toddler's tanrum for distracting me. I'll insist on a do-over. I'll bash Johannah's knee in with a spatula!

Umm... scratch that last one. I think I'm getting a little caught up in the holiday spirit.

you know you're young...

Last night Aidan, Mike and I snuggled on the couch and watched the fire together. While we sat, I started talking to Aidan about Thanksgiving and what it meant. I told him how I was thankful to have my wonderful family around me, in a warm house with plenty of food on the table, etc. Then we asked him what he was thankful for...

Me: So what are you thankful for, Aidan?

Aidan: Umm... I am thankful for you guys, I guess. And for my birthday it is coming up!

I remember when I was thankful for birthdays. It was definitely before my cake required more than one box of candles. Le sigh.

he gets his sense of rhythm from his mom

new merit badge

My June Cleaver merit badge may have gone out the window with my faulty canning skills, but I have just earned my Martha Stewart "outrageously magnificent costume" badge, which means I am SO over June Cleaver. I've decided that aside from her seemingly never-ending pursuit of perfection, Martha Stewart is my kind of lady -- there's no way June Cleaver ever made a grown man cry, so really we don't have a lot in common.

Behold, my kids' Halloween costumes in all their felt-covered, crafty glory!





Take special note of Aidan's lace-up shirt (did I painstakingly pound those eyelets into his shirt myself for the lace-up effect? you bet your sweet ass I did!) Those boots? ENTIRELY MADE OF FELT, people. I know, I know -- you're all wondering how I could possibly make boots from felt. I'll tell you this: the process involved a sewing machine, great tubes of felt, and a can of Pam stuffed into a pair of shoes.

And here's Wesley, the fabulous parrot sidekick to Aidan's pirate. Look at those colorful wings! His saucy little birdy tailfeathers! See his beak which (sort of) resembles a parrot beak... it's apparent that he's having a fabulous time in these pictures, and I am positive that it's entirely because of the level of craftsmanship his costume represents.

I know that these costumes fill me with a joy that simply can't be contained... that and the 10 fun-sized candy bars I just ate.

Happy Halloween! Making your own costumes? As my old pal Martha would say, "it's a good thing!"

next time let's leave the kids with jo

We went to Salt Lake over the weekend for my work, and I always seem to forget how ridiculously difficult it is to stay in hotels with young kids. You either let the kids stay up and tell them to be quiet every 10 minutes for the sake of the other hotel guests OR everybody climbs into bed at 8 o'clock. Or you can do what Mike did -- turn off the lights and lock yourself in the bathroom for 2 hours, just hoping the kids will fall asleep. That sounds fun, doesn't it?

3 going on 13

Me: Please Aidan, get your socks and pants so we can go see Aunt Jo.

Five minutes later...

Me: Aidan. Go get your socks and pants from your bedroom and I'll help you into them.

2 minutes later...

Me: Aidan, listen to me. Go get your pants so we can go. Do it now, please.

1 minute later...

Me: Okay, Aidan. I'm putting Wesley in the car and if you don't have your pants and socks ready for me when I come back, I'm going to do it for you and put you in the car.

Aidan: FINE, mom!

(I put Wesley in the car, turn around to see Aidan holding his pants and socks. Hallelujah.)

Aidan: I am so embarrassed!

Me: Huh?

Aidan: This is embarrassing, mom! I am freaking out!

will pay for hair

Um... so I'm getting hair extensions, I guess. I was more excited about it until I just googled it and started reading all these freaky horror stories about going bald or looking stupid. So I'm just going to cross my fingers and trust that neither of those things will happen to me, and that I will end up looking much more like a Victoria's Secret model than the first cast-off from "Making the Band 11: ABBA covers"

Of course, I will keep you updated as I make this journey into exciting and new hair arenas -- in fact, blogging about it somehow justifies the experience in my mind. I'm working the hair beat, just doing a bit of investigative reporting for the betterment of ALL mankind. All of them. Even the ones who already have lots of hair.

aidan hearts gourds

I bought Aidan a mini pumpkin today. To the uninitiated, this may not seem like an important or blog-worthy happening, but that's because you are blissfully unaware of my three year old's special brand of what I affectionately like to refer to as "the crazies." I wasn't even sure I was going to get him one after last year's pumpkin worshipry (is it a word? it sure is now!)

Last year before Wesley was born, we went to the pumpkin patch as a family. I was feeling 14 months pregnant, swollen, tired, and about 60 pounds heavier than a bull moose. This was actually the day that I had 8 hours of "false labor" contractions that sent me to the hospital after midnight only to be sent back with a percocet and the addition of a L&D nurse to my shit-list: "Sorry hon -- those are definitely registering as very strong contractions, but they're just not doing anything to your cervix. Your baby has a HUGE head though!" (Gee, thanks! Can't wait to push it out! I hope you have a nice night, too!)

ANYWAY. We were at this pumpkin patch, it was cold, slightly soggy, and Aidan kept tripping and falling all over himself... and he's not a fan of getting dirty.

"Oh! OH! I am so dirty!"

I kept picking him up, dusting him off, and following him around while he went from pumpkin to pumpkin. And then, after Mike and I had finally grown weary of the pumpkin patch and had "helped" Aidan make a decision, it happened. Aidan fell in love... with his very own mini pumpkin.

The pumpkin took baths with Aidan. It ate dinner with Aidan. It slept next to Aidan at night... and one night in December when it finally began to get a bit soggy around its edges, it myseriously disappeared. We were all quite torn up about it.

Flash back to today's trip to the grocery store where I grew so desperate for Aidan to behave that I bribed him with another pumpkin. Will we have a repeat of last year's pumpkin love? Only time will tell. But if it makes him behave when we're out running errands, I will buy him a whole pumpkin patch. I'll knit outfits for his pumpkins. I'll sing them songs and kiss them goodnight. Whatever it takes, right? That's the kind of grade A, June Cleaver-esque mom I am.

antonio, my spanish lover

Is there any better way to end a crazy day than a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon? I'll tell you, TWO glasses. And a heaping dose of honesty: I actually had four glasses.

Speaking of heaping doses of honesty, here's one: I am not superwoman. (Gasp!) Ever since moving to Idaho, my business has exploded to the point that I'm waving the white flag. For sure I'm excited that people are treating me and the jewelry like the best thing since potato rolls (hardy har, did you get that? Idaho joke, people -- get with the times) but I am seriously to the point that I am going to have to hire someone to help me with some boring office busy work. Like mailing my show invitations. And filing. And... cleaning my house. And watching my kids. And putting on an "Anna" suit to fill in for my life while I slink off to some sexy white sands beach to drink fabulous drinks with half-naked male models. Screw that -- fully naked male models. This is my fantasy, after all.

ANYWAY, sorry for my negligence in the blogging arena. If you want the assistant job, feel free to give me a jingle. I'm sure that with some help I'll have plenty of time to blog while I'm on the beach with Antonio and Paolo, my spanish lovers. PLENTY of time...

(Hello? Hello? Are you there readers? It's me, Margaret.)

discussing Aidan's underpants

Mike: I think I should start wearing underwear with little dinosaurs on them, too.

Anna: Umm.. why?

Mike: Because it tells the viewer that there's a giant volatile lizard inside.

Anna: WHAT? That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard... volatile how??

Mike: You never know when it's going to strike.

homemade, shmo-made.

Last night we went to my sister's house for dinner -- she had a frozen turkey that had defrosted in her fridge and needed to be cooked, and so she called in the reserves since her three boys were with their dad for the weekend. Mike really likes turkey -- and he can eat a lot (though not as much as Joe, my sister Jo's fiance... but that man can eat more than is realistically possible or healthy...).

Anyway, the invitation was very nice and totally appreciated since we were fresh out of groceries last night. ("What do you want for a snack, Aidan? How about some dry spaghetii? No? Hmm... do you want a tortilla with ketchup on it?") We drank some wine, the boys played Wii Mario Kart, and everybody ate too much.

It was like Thanksgiving in September -- really quite delicious but totally overwhelming. Remember my pickles that didn't seal and how I lost my June Cleaver merit badge? Well, Johannah has like a bajillion merit badges for various homey domestic crap -- she probably knits the damn things in her spare time.

Picture it, Johannah's kitchen, last night:

Mike: Wow, look at all this food... you really went all out, Jo. Thanks again for having us over.

Jo: Oh, it's nothing -- I had to cook this turkey, and I didn't even make all the other stuff today. Some of it I made yesterday. So we have the turkey, and homemade gravy, the mashed potatoes Anna made, then homemade rolls, the stuffing I made with wild rice and currants, broccoli salad, frog eye salad, and don't forget this wine I pressed myself that's been aging in oak barrels in the basement.

(Okay, so maybe I exaggerated and Jo didn't really make her own wine -- the point is she probably could have if she wanted (and now I'm sure I've planted a seed and next year it will be on the menu for sure). And the best part? Those mashed potatoes that I made? FROM A BOX, people. Anyway, it gets better...)

Mike: After this, we should run out and buy some dessert or something.

Jo: Oh no need, I made these pies (she literally lifted a towel off the pies to unveil them at that point) -- homemade pumpkin and blueberry pie. So dessert is covered.

Mike: Wow!

Anna: Yeah, Jo... wow. (glares)

food for thought

what is it about putting a piece of food (hot dog, candy bar, apple...) on a stick that makes it so much better... and so much more expensive?

discuss.

happy birthday mr. silver

It's Mike's birthday, and it's a big one... he turns 30 today. He's handling it pretty well (better than he handled turning 25 -- explain that one to me, please?) and most definitely better than I will handle joining the ranks of the 30-somethings; I break out in a cold sweat just thinking about it.

Anyway, in honor of my dear one's special day, I thought I would take a short walk down memory lane and reminisce about some of our special moments together, like...

...when we were decorating your family's Christmas tree together that first year and I kept unpacking "Mike and Mindy" ornaments. Imagine my confusion, since MY name is not, nor has it ever been Mindy! :)

...when we were on a date at the mini-golf course (did I ever tell you how much I hate miniature golf?) and I accidentally spilled your obscenely giant Dr. Pepper all over the "course" much to the chagrin of everyone behind us, and you so suavely saved the day by passing it off as a water hazard feature.

...when I stepped out of bed the first morning we spent together and slipped on the sheet that had fallen off the bed and onto the floor, flying 4 feet in the air and landing ungracefully on my behind.

...when I was pregnant with Wesley and got stuck on the floor, wedged between the couch and the end table for over 20 minutes until you came home and rescued me while keeping the laughter at a respectable level.

...when my midwife Julie informed us that they were going to induce me with Aidan, and you immediately started hyperventilating and pacing back and forth before leaving to get my hospital bag from home, getting pulled over a block away from the hospital for turning left out of a straight lane (you were still hyperventilating, I'm guessing) and then calling me from the road to see if I wanted McDonald's.

...when we had our first conversation like this:

Me: Let's snuggle some more, honey.

Mike: No, I want to go [insert something totally dumb and not as fun as snuggling]

Me: But wait, wait! I need to talk to you about something important....

Mike: What? Is this going to be something dumb just to keep me here?

Me: No! This is serious, I promise...

Mike: Well?

Me: ...umm...

Mike: What is it, Anna?

Me: ...

Mike: I'm getting out of bed.

Me: No!! Wait, wait... umm... do you love me??

Mike: (laughs) You are so annoying.


All I gotta say is... works every time.

I love you Mike! Happy birthday honey :)

all downhill from here

I've had such a fabulous response (fabulous for my readership numbers, at least!) to my misadventures in sausage making post, that I really just need to get something off my chest so I can stop crying myself to sleep at night.

I peaked already. Oh god, it was a horrible mistake -- how could I be so stupid??

Phew. That feels so much better. Now we can all stop feeling the pressure to match the funny factor of ground meat gone awry while we lay awake at night sweating and panicking while our eyes dart around the room and our blood pressure soars, just trying to think of how we could possibly top our last post, and we can get back to enjoying the inevitable downhill slide of this blog together.

developmental milestones

Wesley is learning how to do so many more things! Yeah, yeah, yeah he can do all that boring stuff that other babies his age can do like pull himself up to standing or say dada and mama (mama not nearly enough, dada ad nausem). Those are boring, normal baby things though; Wesley is way ahead of the curve with his new tricks.

First, he can take off his own pants. I have no idea how he accomplishes this feat, because it's usually done in his crib. (Although he apparently did it on Mike's lap once without Mike even noticing, which suggests some Houdini-esque talent) This is remarkable to me mostly because his three year old brother can't even take off his own pants -- or rather, he refuses. I wonder how I could train him to change the rest of his clothes... Gerber puff treats and a whistle, maybe?

Secondly, Wesley has learned the oh-so-important skill of craftiness -- call it being sneaky, crafty, wily, mischievious... the answer is always yes. He has always had a habit of putting everything (yes, everything) in his mouth, and I have stopped him many times from tasting all manner of fun things like beetles, cat hair and other assorted grossness. The difference is that now Wesley doesn't just try to put stuff into his mouth; he turns his head away from me before slowly and skillfully placing it in his mouth. Then he proceeds to crawl like hell away from me while I chase him down and try to extract said object.

Why, just this afternoon in one 30-second span (with me standing right next to him, mind you) I pulled a rock, pinecone, and crabapple out of his mouth -- yes, he is that quick. My little rock-eating trouser-droppin' magic man... makes a mom so proud. Sniff.

hear ye, hear ye

Aidan has started using a new phrase: "I cried!"

As in: "NO, not pears! Peaches, I cried!" or "It's seven o'clock! Get up, I cried!"

I have no idea where my little town crier picked this up but it sure does make for good television.

yes

I never really intended to post about politics, but I didn't write this so no worries, right?

yes, yes, yes. what she said.

yes.

I paid for that?

I don't even want to go into the drama that we've been dealing with over the past couple days with Aidan and his digestive system -- suffice it to say that he's got poop issues now that he's finally recovering from last weekend's ordeal (of course he does). I wrote a long detailed purge of a post and then promptly deleted it after I re-read it and simultaneously thought "ew" and "huh?"

I will say that I'm beyond irritated that I will be paying for a trip to the ER and an x-ray to check for a serious bowel obstruction or problem (which, thank goodness, there isn't) with an ER doctor who seemed totally unconcerned and just sent us home with an enema... which is terrifying for a 3 year old if it even works (which it didn't).

I was totally unimpressed with this doctor, completely nauseated at the thought of the bill I'm going to get for his lackluster work, and (on a somewhat related note) totally sick about the cost of health insurance.

I'm also grateful for doctors like our pediatrician in Salt Lake, who took the time to talk to me this afternoon even though we're no longer his patients, and work out a plan to take care of this long-term.

So that's all I really need to say about that.

just making sure

(Picture it: a car, mid-afternoon. A mom is driving her two young children around, probably running errands.)

Anna: How are you feeling, hon?

Aidan: Oh, Good!

Anna: Really? You're feeling good, that's great!

Aidan: Plo-bably yes, I guess.

Anna: Can you breathe okay?

Aidan: Yes, I just said.

Anna: So it's not hard to breathe?

Aidan: Nope.

Anna: So you can breathe easier?

Aidan: I am tine, I just said!

Anna: Fine, fine. I was just making sure. Sorry.

hamster pox

I have always wanted to call in sick with Hamster Pox, and now that I stay at home I encourage all my friends and family to do the same... no one has taken me up on it yet, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time. It sounds so dangerous, so nasty & contagious... so jet-setter's exotic vacation parasite-like.

But really, I'm sick. Everyone's sick, OH how we're sick. *cough cough*

Besides my four weeks of unrelenting congestion (but who's counting? Thank you allergies... and thank YOU Claritin, the drug that doesn't work) we have had a stomach bug and now a cold make the rounds at our household. Kids are so germy, blech.

And to top it all off, this Sunday after Aidan had a night with allergies (oh yeah, he's got them too) or a cold, he woke up wheezing -- not a good thing, people. Something similar happened last November when Wesley was 2 weeks old, and Aidan woke up with a fever and wheezing after 2 nights of Croup and ended up with an oxygen saturation somewhere in the 70%-range. After two hideous nebulizer treatments where I had to hold my screaming 2 year old for half-an-hour-plus, we were sent home with an inhaler, steroids, and an antibiotic, just in case it was pneumonia or something.

Long story short, it happened again on Sunday. This time, though, he hid it better, so I felt awful when we got to the doctor's and his oxygen saturation was at 77% -- he was talking in sentences, and didn't seem to be working very hard to breathe at all. Same in-office treatment with the nebulizer, same set of prescriptions, and here we are 2 days later. His saturation is still only about 91-92% though, so we've been going in every day while we finish the course of meds he got so we can make sure he doesn't get any worse.

He's doing a ton better than he was Sunday, I just wish he was getting better, faster. It's hard to watch and I can't help but worry that I might miss the signs if it happened again because I still have mommy-guilt over Sunday.

The doctors aren't going to say asthma right now, since it's only happened twice -- obviously if this becomes a recurring thing in our house we'll have to start doing some tests. I've spoken with several people who have said their young kids had wheezing episodes with some viruses and outgrew it as they got older... so I'm crossing my fingers.

So anyway, that's why I haven't been around. Nothing as exciting or exotic as hampster pox, I'm afraid. Unfortunately it's not as fictitious, either.

Now will someone come take my sick kids tonight so I can get some sleep????

(I'm serious by the way)