heart wreath

Yesterday was a great start to hearts-and-crafts week. Two things that helped this: I have a bad cold which means we're not doing anything other than laying low at home. And the tv is off. That really helps in the productivity department. Oh, and one more...pinterest. I have ideas unending after a look around the valentine craft ideas on this site. But I am treating pinterest like a new addictive drugs. I can tell if I get to close, I might get sucked in and never come out. So for now, I'm just browsing. Not participating with my own page. But talk about a kid in a candy shop. Wow.

I found this wreath idea through pinterest on this site. Adorable, easy, and would have gotten done a lot more quickly if I didn't have a one-year-old crushing my hearts as I made them. Crafting with Ivar is a whole new experience, but he loves it. Loves the paper cutter, loves the stapler, loves the ribbon. It's all new and he's so interested in my toys. I don't blame him. They're fun toys.

pink play dough

The more I need a nap, the more Ivar refuses to lay his head down. We fought over this one for quite some time this afternoon. I am in the middle of a head cold that makes my face weight 100 pounds. I really could have used a nice long nap, but Ivar wasn't feeling it. So we got back up after a very, very long battle of the wills.

Lucky for me, I had thought about making play dough as one of my projects this week. So I got out of bed, put Ivar in the living room with some toys and made some play dough.

For me.

I have thought about this a lot lately. How hard I work to be sure Ivar learns to play, interact, develop, keep his routine. And I've been wondering how I can ensure that I still make time to play, interact, develop and keep a routine. I decided that I need more just-mama play dates.

And I decided that I need more playtime for myself. Hence Heart-and-craft Week...and the pink play dough I made just for myself to knead, to roll out, to cut into hearts. I squished, pounded, rolled it into snakes, rolled it into balls, made it into pizzas and ice cream cones. And it felt so good to play. Only trouble is that now I have a hankerin for rolled sugar cookies in the shape of hearts. (Remember these beauties?) That might have to be added to the list for heart-and-craft week.

**Here's my mom's recipe for play dough. It makes silky, lovely play dough that is easier to clean up than the store-bought kind. I have come to find that people are very partial to their particular play dough recipe. Sort of like all the varieties of chili out there, usually you like your mom's the best. I swear by this stuff, but to each her own.

2 cups flour

1 cup salt

4 tsp. cream of tartar

2 cups water (with food coloring added to the water)

2 Tablespoons vegetable oil

In a saucepan mix flour, salt and cream of tartar.

Add colored water and oil.

Place over medium heat. Stir constantly for several minutes. (It gets heavy! It's hard to stir!)

It will begin to separate from the pan and become more dough-like and look like a lump of mashed potatoes.

Remove from heat and knead with hands. Store in an airtight container.

love rocks

I didn't blog very much last week. And that was mostly because two of the three projects I wrote about on Monday's post were sort of coming to a head. I think all of my creative juices were pouring into those two things.

But now that they're in a less demanding stage, I started thinking about fun things to do with my days ahead. This pregnancy has had me down in the dumps in many ways, creatively, physically, emotionally... But I just stepped into second trimester and with all my heart I am hoping for a new season ahead.

So I decided to be really proactive about this next trimester. I thought about what I could do that would feed my soul, bring me back to the Becca I enjoy. And I came up with two solutions. #1 Unplug the tv for a week. This feels extreme because the amount of television I watched during first trimester was extreme. But I have hit my limit of the barefoot contessa, throwdown with bobby flay, income property, designed to sell and house hunters international. (I am not, however, sick of The Bachelor. And this will be a sacrifice this week. I get more enjoyment out of that amoral show than should be allowed.)

The second plan of attack this week is to make something crafty each day. Super simple is key. Something that might even be done in under 20 minutes. This morning I got out the modge podge and made these love rocks. Ivar loved playing with my fabric scraps and the rocks, I loved using my fabric scissors again and I am hopeful that tiny, little, small projects might just be what is needed to get my normal back to normal.

So get ready for a week of hearts and pink and purple and scissors and glue. I'm excited to play!

our huge church turned tiny

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You know when you invite a friend to church how hard it is to sit back and enjoy the service? I have had this experience so many times, praying for a good sermon, wishing the special music was more special, critiquing how long the announcements drag on. When you bring a friend to church, you want momentum. You want everyone’s best foot forward. You want the spirit to show up.


When I was growing up we called an exceptionally powerful service “a real barn burner.” It doesn’t quite translate from sports because it’s not like it was “a close game” but more that it was “an exciting service.” If I thought Dad’s sermon was above average and if the choir sang something amazing and if the Spirit was felt I’d tell my dad, “Now that was a real barn burner this morning.”

You can feel it when everything comes together.

We had a real barn burner service at Cedar Valley this morning. The whole time I was wishing I had invited every single person I know.

The worship songs were powerful, the preaching was spot on and exactly what a sermon should be. But the thing that made this service come to life was that our huge church turned tiny for a few moments in the middle. It felt like an intimate family, all thousand plus of us gathered.

I don’t think I’ve written about this before, but we are in a life group with good friends Scott and Emily. Emily announced she was pregnant right about the time Ivar was born and sometime before Christmas last year they had their first ultrasound. It was discovered that their little baby boy had his heart, liver and most of his intestines growing on the outside of this body.

Prayers and tears and hope filled lots of conversations until we got a text one night in May that Emily was going into labor. Calvin was born almost full term and for 7 ½ months lived in the ICU as doctors tried to graft new skin, stretch existing skin, and make life possible before they were able to take him home with the help of 24 hour home healthcare.

This morning at church Calvin was dedicated.

It was the very first time Rory and I have seen him in person. With the risk of germs and disease, they are obviously quite strict about who can see him. But this morning we saw Calvin with his sweet cheeks and bright eyes. We saw a living, breathing miracle. His whole life is a testimony, with two parents who have faithfully prayed for their son and a church who has rallied behind them as they walk this unimaginable road.

Calvin was dedicated and then had to leave through the back door, back to his own car to his own home. Away from all of the coughs and colds that came along with us to worship.

Then the youth pastor came up and announced that he and his wife have taken a call to a new church in Mesa. This youth pastor is beloved at our church and this was a real blow. He and his wife cried as they made the announcement and thanked this church for being their home, thanked the senior pastor for being his spiritual mentor, thanked the pastor‘s wife for the love and care she has shown their family. It was heartfelt and left you grateful for a whole multitude of things, namely the gifts these two have shared with the church and that God continues to call and lead and direct all of our steps.

And finally, Pastor Roger then took the microphone after the youth pastor sat down and announced that he was diagnosed with cancer of the kidney this week and was asking for prayer. Pastor Jerry invited all who are in need of healing to come to the altar to be anointed with oil and for prayer. Almost 100 people stood up and walked forward. The woman in front of us stood, and suddenly I realized her wig. And how frail she was. And the sadness in her husband’s face. They walked forward and I wondered how it was that I had just greeted them before church and didn’t have the eyes to see any of that. But suddenly with the holiness that had entered our church, I could see.

These three moments, one after the other, were overwhelming. Baby Calvin, Youth Pastor Jesse and Pastor Roger all brought their broken-in-need-of-a-savior-selves before the church and the church in turn reflected all of our broken-and-in-need-of-a-savior-selves right back.

Only the Holy Spirit can bring that sort of vulnerable power into a room. Only Jesus can save all of us gathered. Only God can heal our brokenness and hurting hearts.

It was a real barn burner.

beautiful boundaries

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I was asked by my home congregation to lead five nights of confirmation, all centered on meeting God in creative journaling, free writing, art and imagination. It was the perfect invitation. I got super excited about it and 24 hours later called the youth director and said I couldn’t commit.

The next day I was asked to lead one morning of a women’s bible study at my current church. I was honored, got super excited, and in the end turned this invitation down too.

Around this same time I was asked to head up the decorations for a huge kids banquet at our church. I was thrilled at the thought. And then I said no.

Here’s the thing. I rarely say no. I’m a pretty obedient Yes Girl. But before these invitations arrived, I had mapped out three large projects I wanted to tackle in the new year. Projects that are often put on the back burner, but require some time and energy and I want to see them through.

So I said no to three incredible invitations. Even writing each of them out made my heart sink a little. They were hard to turn down.

All of those invitations came in November and December but now it is in January that I am feeling the relief of not having over committed. I’m not sure I’ve ever known this sweet feeling before. I’m so grateful for boundaries!

So this is just a post to remind you, it’s okay to say no. Even to good things. It’s important to still listen for where God is calling you, but sometimes I think God is calling you to still waters. And clearing my life a bit with some foresighted no’s in December has made for a really lovely January.

when did this happen?!!

Ivar is changing before my very eyes into the beginnings of a very little boy. I see it in his face and it catches me off guard. His teeth, his parroting words, his personal will, his happy dancing, his conversational babble, his joy...little signs of all that is to come, living life with this little guy.

I read two great pieces on motherhood recently and wanted to pass them along for a bit of weekend reading. The first went viral on facebook and you may very well have read it already.

It's called Don't Carpe Diem. It's got some good, honest stuff to say and I really appreciated what it had to say about kairos time versus chronos time. I think about this often now.

The second blog post I wanted to share is called This Big Sister's Advice. And it's sweet and tender and a good reminder of what this whole mamahood gig is all about.

Along those lines, on Tuesday I joined a mom's group at my church for Bible study. It was the best thing ever. I told Rory it felt like empowerment therapy. We shared a lot, but it wasn't a commiseration fest either. I left inspired, ready to live out my call as a mom with a second wind.

If you are a young mom and not a part of a mom's group of any sort, I beg you to start looking for something similar in your area. I know MOPS has a great reputation (your children don't have to be in preschool!). And I would hope most churches have something similar. It is so necessary. I am building friendships with ladies who are so easily able to relate, and there could be nothing better. So check out a local church, the MOPS website, community centers in your area...just find a group of girls and walk this road together.

clean house

I like to keep a tidy house. But Ivar and his many toys seem to have taken over. Some days I can handle this, but after days of feeling too sick to clean up after the boy, our house went to pot.

(What does that saying mean? Like pot the drug? Or a pot for plants? Why does the word pot looks so weird right now?)

Anyway. I read a super inspiring blog post about putting all the toys and books together and making three piles, one to keep out, one for short term storage and one for long term storage. (I'd like to say there was a pile for good will, but the kid is one and it's hard to throw anything knowing another is on its way.) The part of this plan I loved the most was the short term storage. I got a huge rubbermaid and filled it up with great toys, but toys that have many pieces, toys that seem to spread all over the house.

And now, the plan is to swap out a new toy each day. (Though so far, he is totally entertained by the few toys I left out.) He has one train set in the living room and his bedroom cleans up in a jiffy.

(What is a jiffy?)

Here's the crazy part that I want to share. Ivar plays for longer stretches of time now, with fewer toys. He found a tennis ball tube that he fills with trains and then dumps out and then fills again and dumps out. This was all out before, but now it's the only stuff out. And he stays focused longer.

I'd say I put away 60% of his stuff. And we now have a less cluttered home. And our son occupies himself for longer stretches of time.

That is a win win.

the nuts and bolts of my Kitchen Table

Within the last week, I have had a meal on the table six out of the seven nights. One of those nights Rory put the food on, and another night I was too sick to make anything and getting myself to the table wasn’t really an option.

I’d say a really solid start.

After a week I have a few plans that I hope to stick by:
1. Meal is on the table by 5. This is so early, I know. And yet we eat lunch around 11 at this house and by five there are three hungry bellies to be filled. We started out at 5:30, but Ivar wouldn’t have it. So we moved up our suppertime.

2. I keep my laptop off of the table now. The kitchen table is no longer able to be the catch-all place. I try to keep it relatively clear throughout the day. This helps when it's time to set it and fill it with food.

3. The meal doesn’t have to be homemade. Hopefully one thing on the table is, but there just needs to be a meal on the plate. That’s the goal. The night Rory cooked we had sausage, eggos and strawberry's. It was very nice.

4. Coborn’s Delivers. More on this another time, but let me tell you, I adore this service. After a terrible experience involving me and Cub and a gagging spell and hitting a wall of exhaustion so hard I thought I’d curl up under my cart in the cereal aisle, I decided to look into this grocery delivery service. We’ve had four deliveries so far and all I can say is that it still feels too good to be true.

5. My four week meal menu. I have had so many people contact me with great meal planning ideas, great recipe websites, even their own excel spreadsheets (thanks Marie!). I find much comfort knowing that lots of others need a system for meal prep too. I listed out all of the meals our family enjoys and set up a weekly calendar with a food-type for each day the week. So far, week one was a complete success. We're now on to week two. I'm not strict about what we eat each day, but this calendar is so helpful as a place to start! (On a few days I use the slash to list two different options, one that might take more time along with an easier option.)

So that’s the plan. I’m sure I’ll modify it as we go along, but until then, I’m so happy to be feeding my family!

our little israelite

Ivar has learned two new words this week: more and banana, which he pronounces, "nana"

But today he morphed the two words together and now, when he wants more food, he yells from his high chair, "Manna! Manna!"

And you know, food always shows up on his tray. Like it just rained down from the sky.

creative juices are flowing again!

I have been blog browsing lately. A dangerous pastime that usually ends up in a lot of time passing me by. But I have been feeling a little burst of creativity lately, and that feels really, really good. At this point I'm just taking in a lot of ideas, not sure where I'll begin. But in the process of surfing I found one new site that I ADORE. Can't get enough.

Check out Modern Parents, Messy Kids. The pictures above are from that site. The page I am linking to is all sorts of fun projects to do with kids. Makes me want to get crafty again so badly. It has been so long!

Second, this site called Organic Families was up on my computer when I sat down tonight. I think Rory must have been looking something up for his garden, but I love this post I'm linking too. A system for teaching your kids how to pick up after themselves. It's pretty brilliant.

And finally, I stumbled upon Cluck, Cluck, Sew and have been bitten by the quilt bug. Actually, it bit really hard this time. I've already been to two speciality fabric stores and am cleaning the table in the basement so I can set up shop down there. Can't wait to try my hand at a little wall quilt.

And you? Have you been inspired lately?

a little heartbeat

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A life has been growing in me for the past 12 weeks.
Sometimes I forget this. I don’t forget that I’m not feeling well, but I do forget that the reason I feel crummy is because a little heart is beating in me and fingers are separating and eye sockets are forming and reflexes are starting to develop.

With Ivar I was so aware of every new change happening inside. I daydreamed and wondered and sat in awe of all that was to come.

Now, with a one year old to chase, this pregnancy continues to take me by surprise. Like yesterday, Rory and I sat at my obgyn and they gooped up my belly and we heard a steady, strong heartbeat. It was as joyous as seeing my positive pregnancy test. Sort of surprised me in the same way. That’s right! We are having another baby!

So to all of the baby #2’s out there who fear you were sort of lost in the shuffle. You may very well have been. The second is totally different than the first, even 12 weeks in. But the joy is the same. And the anticipation and excitement when it does come, is very, very real.

Best of all baby-to-be, you have a big brother who never forgets you are coming. Every time I get Ivar out of his crib, he reaches for my shirt, lifts it up, sticks his finger in my belly button and says, “baby.” I am pretty sure he thinks belly buttons are called babies but I’m not going to correct him anytime soon. It’s the best reminder that life is growing, a brand new heart is pumping and we have a little life working really hard inside of me getting all set to join our family.

my kitchen table theme song

Sara wrote this song while doing the dishes. The song is about all of the daily tasks to be done, only to be undone and then done again the next day. Setting up the Pins is about deciding to either resent those tasks or embrace them. "You can find joy in the fertile ground" is the line that rings true for me.

I adore this video. Though you'll note Rory and I are the only family members missing for the family supper. We lived in Omaha and couldn't get back. But just know a little part of me dies every time I see it. #1 because I missed my opportunity to be in a music video and #2 because...well, I missed my opportunity to be in a music video.

It makes me grateful we live in Minnesota again. And are available for music videos.




And if you have a minute be sure to watch this video too. It's great storytelling and song writing.

Okay, I just keep coming across more good Sara video's on Youtube. Be sure to watch this one too.

my 2012 word for the year

What on earth? Will someone please tell her that’s actually two words?!! And that the one little word isn't supposed to be a noun? ‘Kitchen Table’ is ridiculous.


Well, you could tell me that. 

And I could have chosen two other words that probably would have made more sense to the one little word club. I thought about intention. As in 'intention to get a meal on that table each night.’ And I thought about the word gather, as in ‘gather round family, its 5:30 and I’ve got something real tasty for you to eat.’

But intention and gather felt too flowery for me this year. Too schmaltzy, if you will. This isn’t about pretty sounding words and high hopes. This is about meat and potatoes. It’s about the practicalities of getting a routine in my life so that grocery shopping isn’t a mystifying experience every week. It’s about planning and preparation so that I am not begrudgingly trying to guess what I should make for supper every single day. And it’s about peace of mind knowing that the days of eating in front of the tv are over, Ivar is old enough to sit through a meal with us and that the time we gather and talk and break bread at the kitchen table is perhaps the most sacred time in our day.

Now to be fair, it's not like we never eat at the table. We probably do 3 or 4 times a week. But this new plan has as much to do with my attitude about the daily task of putting something on that table as it does getting us all there. My plan with Kitchen Table is to up that number of nights per week and to up my attitude about filling that table with good things to eat. (Rory has already said he'll take a night.)

So the word is Kitchen Table. As in, I’m going to clear the table and set the table. Sometimes I might even have a centerpiece. A lit candle seems like a good idea. I am going to meal plan, organize my grocery list and think about the next night’s supper and what needs to thaw overnight. And then, at 5:30, I’m going to call my family to the kitchen table and we’re gonna thank God for the sloppy joes before us.

thoughts on my 2011 one little word: try

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When I was seven months pregnant with Ivar, Rory and I spent a week at Mount Carmel for family camp. We were sitting at a table in the dining hall that looked over the lake and my friends Amanda and Lindsey came and joined us. They are former summer counselors that I used to supervise, and now I get to count as friends. They came to our table on a mission. They had something to say.


They asked me if I’d ever consider writing a book of short little thoughts on motherhood, stories and lessons along the way. They were persistent. They wanted me to write this so they could read it one day when they had babies. I laughed but they didn’t laugh. I remember later feeling badly for being so flippant at their request.

Something about that conversation stuck for me, and really took a load off. I have wanted to write something for a long, long time. But the thought of publishing, finding readers, critique, and being that absolutely vulnerable scared the wits out of me.

But Amanda and Lindsey were just asking for something that they could later read. I’m not scared of their critique. I’m not afraid of their judgment over incomplete thoughts, typos and laying myself bare. They like me. I like them. I would write for them.

I wrote a lot on the blog about pregnancy and Ivar’s first year, but there is a whole lot I didn’t put on the blog. So I started keeping a file filled with short writings pertaining to every month of his life, filled with transition, awkward moments, charmed moments and everything in between.

My word for 2010 was Try. Because that was the goal: I’m going to try to complete something that I can self publish. I have terrible voices in my head that tell me not to bother, but my word for the year was meant to stand in defiance against those voices. I’m just going to try. No one has to love it. No one has to read it. At least I tried.

So I did. We set up babysitting times once a week so that I could drop Ivar off with grandparents and aunts and uncles and I holed up in library study rooms across the metro area.

I’ve got a pretty complete rough draft to show for it. Because I tried.

I’m in a new stage of writing now, one that I have never been in before…editing. Blogs are funny because nothing is ever edited. I write and publish and what you see is what I wrote. But I’m hopeful for no typos. No glaring grammatical errors. And for that, I need someone else’s help.

So that’s my reflection on my word for 2011. I have a new word for 2012. I’m really excited to share it and more excited to live it. It’s a great word full of meaning for me. Full of purpose and ambition. And this year, it’s a noun.

the best of 2011

One of my favorite bloggers puts together a post of her personal bests for each year. I thought I'd give it a go myself and had such a cool time going through my favorite pictures, reflecting on the past year and all the good things we packed it with. I give you, my best of 2011:

the magic maker

I’ve been thinking about this all month. Not sure how it’s going to all come tumbling out, but I’m just going to start typing. (The picture above is me in 1st grade. And I still have that skateboarding girl, I'll have you know. I know right where she's at at this very moment...)

Now this thought I’m about to share isn’t totally new to me. I’ve felt it since Ivar was born, but this Christmas it became quite pronounced. This year I hardly decorated, cookies made me nauseous and we didn’t have any snow. It was an odd Christmas to be sure. But it made something very obvious: If I don’t decorate, the house doesn’t get decorated. If I don’t bake, we don’t nibble and munch all season. If I don’t make my house merry and bright, December can slip by like any other month. I am the magic maker.

I get really nostalgic for Christmas' in the past. But what I'm realizing is the ones I am dreaming about are the Christmas' where I merely took in the magic. The ones where somehow it all got done. Someone mysterious was doing all the gift purchasing and then wrapping those gifts into the wee hours behind a locked bedroom door. Someone else bustled in the kitchen for our ham and hot fruit and creamy potatoes. Someone else did all of the organizing of company, planning of special festive outings, decorating and party planning.

Turns out, my mom was busting her hiney every December. My mom was making the magic. And I’m just realizing this now, at age 30.

I mean, I knew it, I just didn’t really know how much work it entailed.

It’s a big responsibility! My sister-in-law Lisa told me that at some point the week before Christmas it dawned on her that she simply was not going to get it all done. She knew it days before execution. There just wasn’t enough time. And so after Christmas dinner, Lisa disappeared and wrapped the presents we were about to open just moments later. She was doing her magic, you see.

So to all the mom’s who met each other at Target late at night, to all the mom’s who ran to the corner store for another pound of butter and some more vanilla, to all the mom’s who got out all of the Christmas decorations and now are staring at them hoping they’ll put themselves away, I guess I just want to say, You’re magical.

And it is worth it. All the love and attention to detail my mom poured into my childhood Christmas' were not lost on me. And now it's what I'll strive for with my own kids. Starting next year. When smells are lovely again and feeding my son lunch doesn't take every ounce of energy I have. But look out Christmas 2012. I'll be back. And I'll be magical.

a christmas to remember...or try to forget.

Ivar got the flu on Christmas Morning around 1:30 at my folk’s house. We had celebrated Christmas Eve with the Groves and went to my parents to sleep overnight for Christmas Day with the Harringtons.


Unfortunately, it was violent and messy and long lasting. Basically, it was awful. It’s hard to watch your baby dry heave. But I do recommend if you’re a first time mom, try to be with your mom when your baby gets the flu for the first time. Because as a first time mom, you really need a mom of your own to mother you while you act as the mother to your baby. At one point in the night Rory said to my mom, “Margaret, you can go back to bed if you’d like.” And I told him mom was up for me, not for Ivar.

Another handy thing about being at mom’s is that she has an abundance of wash clothes and bath towels which is what we used to wrap our baby in and catch his mess. He blew through his clothes quite quickly and this served as a pretty great system considering how unpredictable the whole thing is.

We came back home on Christmas Day, and my folks headed to my sister’s to celebrate with her and her family. Ivar threw up throughout the day, but babies are funny and sort of bounce back between episodes. So we opened Christmas presents by the tree, watching the Yule Log and laying very low. I felt really ill after such a terrible night of sleep.

Monday came and I felt better than I have in months. I sorted my art supplies, switched a book shelf, and my folks came over in the evening to help with more projects. I was so motivated to sieze this new found energy! We swept, mopped, took the tree down (I know, pretty early, but what is the point of sweeping if you are going to take the tree down a few days later?!!) and the Christmas decorations (all three of them I had put up.)

Then my mom got sick. Really sick. 36 hours after Ivar, and she was down for the count. They left our house with bucket in hand and three hours later my dad caught the bug too. An hour after that Rory and I were hit. It was like war. This flu bug was picking us off one by one.

Monday night will not soon be forgotten. All three of us in this little home were violently ill and it was terrible. Terrible.

Tuesday came as a slow recovery day. But Ivar still threw up Tuesday night and then again last night. We took him to the doctor today and the doctor thinks the last three nights have been formula related with his system having trouble digesting the lactose in his bottles. So we’re onto soy formula and hoping this might be the key.

Did I mention that Annika’s little baby Svea got it too? And now Sonna has it. That family is like domino’s about to topple over and I am so, so sorry for them.

My dad is out grocery shopping for us right now, restocking the essentials: bananas, apple sauce, gingerale, saltines and bread. We’re a sorry sight here on Girard. Wouldn’t recommend coming too close.

Just thought I’d check in before the new year. Sorry if this is all too much information. I sort of just wanted to write it out so that years from now we can read it and thank our lucky stars it isn’t the Christmas of 2011.

cookie swap 2011

Monday was the Great Lisa Groves Cookie Swap 2011. It's my favorite event leading to Christmas, and even though the thought of making twelve dozen cookies made me gag, I decided to partake.

I got my game on. Thursday I mixed three batches of batter for the Sugar and Spice cookies. They're my favorite, and ginger cookies seemed like a good and smart idea for this pregnant lady. On Friday my mom came to help me bake them all. The first batch came out flat and greasy. They looked like this:

Mom started asking questions. Questions like, how much butter did you put in each batch of dough? To which I replied, "well, it calls for 3/4 cup butter, and I used three out of the four sticks in the box." I knew my error as I said it. I looked wide eyed at my mom and she sighed, "Oh honey, you are so pregnant."

And then she proceeded to spend the rest of her day in my kitchen whipping up three new batches of dough, attempting to resurrect the double butter batters with oatmeal, which sort of made them taste like greasy gingersnaps with oatmeal, baked all 12 dozen cookies from the new batter, cleaned my kitchen and went home after it was all over.

Can we get three cheers for my mom?!!

The cookie swap was, as always, fantastic. I love this gathering. I am very much included only because I am a sister-in-law. The rest of these ladies have been friends for over 20 years... they started out having babies together and now are sending them off to college. They have done plenty of life together and it is a privilege to get to listen in, watch the friendships in action, get to be a part of the stories told, the heartache shared and the deep laughter.

And it's always nice to come home with twelve dozen different cookies. Rory might love this event even more than I do, if that's possible.

rub a dub dub

Confession: Ivar hasn't been the most hygienic baby for the past six months. At some point around six months old, he decided he didn't like baths. (I'm realizing that this probably was because I was still bathing him in the kitchen sink in the baby tub because our bathtub is really high on the sides, a claw foot that sounds fancier than it is. The sides are really high which makes it hard to kneel and reach the baby...) As a result, bath time has been a wrestling match, usually ending with me as the soggy loser and both of us tuckered out. It's not terrible, but it's not fun either and leaves a mom a bit unmotivated to get the baby in the bathtub.

But something changed recently and we've got a little fish on our hands. He loves bath time. And I am realizing that the mom's who make bath time a part of their bedtime routine are really just trying to save their sanity. Because bath time comes at fall-apart time. The time when everyone needs to go to bed, but it's still just too early.

Bath time turns 6:00-7:00 into splashes and happiness, and mom's get to sit on the closed toilet seat and rest their weary selves for a moment. It's such a win win. Ivar looks nicer without crusted oatmeal in his hair and I get to sit in a steamy, humid room with a happy baby.

advent and preparation

We have a tree up with beautiful white lights on it. And I have a fisher price nativity set my mom gave us a few years ago that Ivar likes to play with (and by play, I mean throw the shepherds and wisemen around). But other than that, I haven't put up one single decoration. Oh, except the barn to a nativity set that I brought upstairs a few weeks ago...but I haven't unpacked any boxes to find the people, so it's just a barn. No peeps in the stable.

I just don't have it in me this year. I'm tired. I'm queasy and I sort of don't think I can handle adding more clutter to our stuff. As it stands our house is strewn with brightly colored toys and tupperware and it already feels full. More decorations just seems like it would be too much.

In an effort to comfort myself, to give permission to this years lack of tradition-making, I have been on a quest for fun advent ideas. And I found this post and wanted to link to it so that next year, when I'm feeling spry and energized, I can be the supermom I know I can be. Just not this year.

So check out this link of fun ideas for the 25 days leading up to Christmas. She has great ideas for family outings, special nights at home, service projects for others and then writes about that super fun idea of wrapping up all of the Christmas books at the beginning of the month and then letting your kids unwrap one book a night all throughout December and reading it before bed. I love this idea.