Getting Dolled Up

I don't really remember playing dress up much when I was little, which isn't surprising because I don't remember much of growing up. At least not on my own, anyway. When some one says "Hey remember when we use to play band in your living room and you played the laundry basket drums with books for cymbals?" I'm like, "Oh, yea, I totally forgot about that!" But heaven forbid I have to recall something on my own.

Anyway, back to dressing up...

I may not (or lets face it, may have) played dress up much as a child, but now I love to dress up. There is nothing better than an amazing pair of heels with a fierce dress, or a cute pair of boots with a dark colored skinny jean and a trendy top, ahhh if only I was rich with an unending wardrobe.

I like feeling girly and I like feeling pretty. Who doesn't? When I look good and am dressed up, my day seems to go better. I can take on the world with a sass that is just unrivaled. Look at me all looking good and stuff, oh yea.

I often wish that I lived in an era where it was appropriate to leave my house dressed to the nines just to go grocery shopping. I would have been that 50's housewife in my a-line skirt and apron. Super sexist, ultra un-feminist, ehh, so what. It is what it is, or rather, I am what I am.

With all of that being said, I am not naive enough to think that if I actually lived in the above described era, that I wouldn't get tired of dressing up all the time and want to live in an era where it's perfectly acceptable to leave the house in yoga pants. I also know for a fact that I am just too lazy to dress up and do my hair and make-up, and shave, and blah blah blah.... Every.Stinkin.Day.

Do you see my quandary? I need to be fancy and cute and girly, but my want for an extra 15 30 40 minutes of sleep far out weighs that need.

to the moon and back,

Daddy

In between my morning job and cleaning job this afternoon, I got a call from my mom. "Jen, I'm in the ER with your dad, can you come get Moose from me, he's getting kid of restless." Umm... excuse me? ER?

Now, a little background on my mom. She's a rock in situations like this, real even keeled. Me, not so much (I don't do well in emergencies). Anyway, mom gets through these situations and is super strong, then when they are over, she takes her moment to break down.

Me "Why is dad in the ER?"
Mom "He was lightheaded at work and having problems remembering things and he kept zoning out. It might be mini strokes."
Me "Ok, I'll be there right away. Is he ok?"
Mom "He seems to be, they are running tests."

So, I rearranged my day and headed to the hospital. My dad is going to give me a heart attack, this isn't his first emergency.

I called Jon on my way there, I was a mess on the phone. I couldn't stop crying. I was praying, crying, texting, praying, crying, facebooking. Not my safest trip somewhere, but I needed prayers for my dad.

I got to the hospital, made my way to his room, rushed in and gave him the biggest hug and just lost it.

They had already done an EKG and blood work. They still planned on doing at least a cat scan. He was also hooked up to an IV with fluids because of mild dehydration. They weren't sure what had happened, but they mentioned mini strokes. My dad was hoping it was just anxiety from dealing with the end of the year inventory at the school. Mom said that he was very disoriented when she got to the hospital, but by the time I got there he was much more lucid.

After the cat scan they decided to do an MRI. The doctor also ordered a sonogram to look at his carotid arteries and an echocardiogram.

And so we waited... and waited... and waited. The nurse came in at 3:30 and asked if the doctor had talked to us. We said no. She replied "Oh, well he was supposed to, but I think he's gone for the day now." What? Really? I mean I guess it wasn't life threatening, because I assume he would have come in, but really, who knows.

My dads friends, Tom & Sandra, came by to pray with him and I can't tell you how much that meant.

The nurse informed us that they were going to keep my dad over night for observations and to get those other 2 tests done. My dad wasn't thrilled, but we didn't give him a choice. She also told us that they were having a neurologist do a consult.

They moved my dad up to a room and the neurologist came in and did a few memory tests and a few physical tests (for strokes). He passed both tests. (I even had a hard time with the memory one!) The Dr said that it could have been a mini stroke which would have effected his memory and made him light headed and spacey; however, he's know more after reading the MRI.

So now we wait... and wait... and wait for answers. I pray with all my heart that it's something minor that can easily be fixed.

I know that I'll never be ready to lose him, but I'm really not ready, yet. He's still so young and has many, many, many more years left.

So, for now, I leave you with this poem I wrote for him for his birthday years ago:

Dad you’ll never realize

The times I cherished being with you

It was late night plays, weekend matinees

And Chinese lunches, too

It was baseball games

Those many nights

Arena football

And hockey fights

It was actions, cuts and strike the sets

It was props and wardrobes , too

It was Dracula and the Pajama Game

And just spending time with you

It’s the way you’ve always loved me

Whether I deserved it or not

You make me feel so grateful

That I thank God for what I’ve got

I hope you have a great day

Celebrating your birth

I hope that at least one person

Tells you how much your worth

to the moon and back,

Letters from a Wanna-Be Runner

See what I did there? Pretty clever, huh??

While you run, do you write imaginary letters to people, places, and/or things? No? Is it just me then? Hmm, ok, well, it makes the time go by faster for me. So here are just a few of letters I wrote in my head tonight as I ran...

By the way, as I am writing these letters in my head, I picture them being written down using a fancy pen and calligraphy.

• Dear Old, Beat-Up, Broke Down Chevy Pick-Up:
  Thank you for spewing that thick cloud of black smoke for me to inhale. My run wasn't quite challenging enough.
  Signed,
  *cough cough*
• Dear Extremely In-Shape Old Dude Who Lapped Me Like 20 Times:
  Quit showing off...
  Signed,
  Dying over here
• Dear Shadow (yes, my own shadow):
  Pick up the pace. You seem to be moving at a much slower pace that I am.
  Signed,
  Apparently, I'm Barely Moving
• Dear God of the Shoelace:
  While I'm upset that you allowed my shoe to come untied, I thank you for watching over me as I was running down the bridge and not letting me trip and tumble head over heals to my all but certain death.
  Signed,
  Almost Falling for You
• Dear Technology:
  What have I ever done to you? I have been nothing, if not nice to you. I always charge my phone and try to shut down apps so that they aren't running in the back ground. Also, I always hang the chest strap for my heart-rate monitor up so that it can dry out. I put the watch that goes with my heart-rate monitor in a safe place so it doesn't get damaged. And what do I get as thanks? Well, on a night where I needed all of the motivation I could get, my hear-rate monitor kept losing track of my heart and the app I use to track my run crashed a little over a half mile into my run.
  Signed,
  Almost Gave Up and Quit

Weren't you absolutely riveted by that glimpse of what goes on in my head while I'm running, that is while I'm running by myself. If I'm running with someone, I'm usually talking because I can't handle the silence and I'm working on my lungs... yea, that's it, lung capacity.

to the moon and back,

Soy Butter Basil Baked Chicken Wings

Several years ago, I organized special events for a living. One of the events that I did was a chicken wing cooking competition. At one of those competitions, a local restaurant served up some mighty tasty wings, that I have not been able to find since (the restaurant didn't serve those on their menu).

I've never been one to cook wings, because 1. I try to refrain from fried food and 2. I do not like frying food. However, back in February, while we were on vacation, I looked up a recipe for baked wings and they turned out amazing.

Anyway, for the last week the hubby has been asking for wings, so I finally made it by the store today to get wings. When I got home, I suddenly thought "Those wings, I need to make those wings!" What kind of wings you ask? Uh... didn't you read the title of this blog? Soy butter basil baked chicken wings. Here's the recipe I came up with off the top of my head, combining the baked wings recipe with what I am guessing is the recipe for those SBB (for short) wings... Now, this is a very precise recipe, so be sure to follow it to a tee (Pshh, whatever, I say make it your own!)

SBB Wings

20 wings (give or take)
1 Stick of Melted Butter (or the equivalent in margarine)
3 Cloves of minced Garlic
2 Tbsp chopped fresh Basil (or the equivalent in the squeeze basil that you get in the produce section)
Soy sauce to taste
Salt & Pepper

Preheat the oven to 375. In a large pot, fill half way with water and salt to taste. Add the wings and bring them to a boil. Boil them until they are almost done. While those are cooking, mix the rest of the ingredients together (minus the salt). Keep tasting until you get the soy to mixture ratio to your liking. When the wings are almost done, but still a little pink, pull them out of the water and add them to the marinade. Mix it up until all the wings are coated. let sit for about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Place the wings on a baking sheet and brush with extra marinade. Bake until the wings brown and the skin crisps. Turn halfway through.

I think you'll agree that you will never go back to take out wings! Plus these are much healthier because the boiling removes a good deal of fat plus there is no frying! If you want to save more calories, remove the skin, just be careful not to over cook them in the oven, they will dry out quickly.

to the moon and back,

Why do we do it?

Why do we do it?

Why do we try to have babies? There are so many risks, so much possible pain, so much possible devastation.

But we still try...

Some of us succeed on the first try (or with out even trying), others spend years and thousands of dollars trying, others never succeed and either choose to adopt or make peace with not having children.

But we still try...

We try even though it may end in miscarriage, we try even though it may end in still birth, we try even if it means that our child will need to be cared for by us forever, we try even if it may take our own lives.

But we still try...

We try even if the finances aren't right, we try even if the house isn't big enough, we try even if we don't have help from our families, we try even if it means losing friendships.

But we still try...

It can be sad, it can be scary, it can be uncomfortable, it can totally change our bodies (hair, skin, shape, etc), it can throw our hormones completely our of whack, it can make us sick for 9 months straight.

But we still try...

Why?

Because it's worth it.

It's worth it for a chance at holding a miracle. It's worth it for a chance at feeling their movements before anyone else knows what's going on. It's worth it for a chance to hear their first tiny little cries. It's worth it for a chance to count their little fingers and toes. It's worth it for a chance to watch them hit every milestone and to see the world brand new through their eyes. It's worth it for a chance to feel unconditional love and to be loved unconditionally. It's worth it for a chance to fulfill one of God's purposes for us as women. It's worth it for a chance to hear them say "I love you" for the first time. It's worth it for a chance to feel the best hugs ever.

Why do we do it, when there seems like there are so many reasons not to? We do it for a chance at something amazing.

to the moon and back,

Through the eyes of a 3 year old

"It was a great Easter day." That's what Moose said before he went to bed tonight.

Actually, what he said was, "Tell daddy that I had a very good Easter day playing with my cousins and my friends and my family. Tell him I love them all very much and that I love him very much. It was a great day!"

And it was a great day a darn near perfect day in the eyes of a 3 year old. He woke up, and came in and laid down with mommy. We got up and he played while I got ready for work. Then Grandma showed up and that meant play time!

They played board games, rode bikes, played on the swing set, had lunch then it was nap time.

While he napped, grandma and I got ready for the guests. There were cupcakes to bake, cool and ice. There were veggies to chop. There were little plastic eggs to fill.

Moose woke up and soon after the guests started arriving. The adults ate, while the kids played. They ran, climbed, went swinging, played tag and slid down the slide. They asked for cupcakes before dinner and some prevailed, it is a celebration after all so dessert comes first, right?

It was time for the men folk to wrangle the little ones to the front yard so the eggs could be hidden, or just thrown about the back yard. There really isn't much to the hiding when there are 1,000 eggs to hide (that may be an exaggeration, but you get the idea).

Then it was time to unleash the hounds! They were off, scooping up eggs as they ran. Eggs were everywhere and their baskets were overflowing. As they ran around they left a trail of spilled eggs, which only brought joy as they realized there were more eggs to find!

With all of the eggs gathered up, it was time for them to examine the spoils of their hard work. Moose opened an egg and out popped a small plastic slinky... "Oh, just what I always wanted! A slinky!" he exclaimed with sincerity. "Easter is so much fun with my friends mom!"

A (I'll switch his friends names with letters) opened an egg and found a bubble ring. His mom opened it up and showed him that it was bubbles and his whole face lit up!

E slowly and carefully hand picked his eggs. He opened his eggs, but wasn't overly impressed. He was more interested in checking out what everyone else was doing. He wanted to keep playing.

L got a small yellow squishy ball from one of his eggs and held it up and said "My yellow!". He was so proud of his airplane erasers and the rest of his haul.

J immediately broke open the fruit snacks and the candy that was allergy safe for him. He tore through every egg, carefully examining each one for treats that he could devour!

Once eggs were done and the yard looked like there had been a plastic egg massacre, it was time to play again. Soon, though, everyone packed up and the night had to come to an end.

A very tired little boy got ready for bed. When we got to his room, I picked him up (my almost 4 foot, 3 year old) and rocked him like I do every night and we sang "You are my Sunshine". I laid him down and we prayed and thanked God for Jesus and the sacrifice He made for us.

So, you see, that was pretty much a perfect day for a 3 year old and quite frankly, it was darn near perfect for this mama, too. My heart is full tonight.

to the moon and back,

Glorious, fully caffeinated coffee deliciousness...

I fear it has been far too long since I have blogged about one of the very things I base my blog around... Caffeine! I have to admit, caffeine and I parted ways for a little while there. It was very sad and the coffee growers association called me and asked what they could do to get me back. Yes, there is such a thing as a coffee growers association, but no they did not actually call me that would be absurd, they emailed me... (See what I did there? You thought I was going to be honest but I furthered the fib with even more exaggeration.)

Anyway, it was a very ugly break up. There were tears (mainly from my hubby dealing with a newly decaf me), headaches, depression, and then moving on to a way less attractive source of energy vitamins and veggies and fruit, ack... Vitamins make me puke (literally, most of them do for some reason, sorry TMI) and I have to choke down fruit (I'm weird, deal with it), now I love my veggies, but they don't compare to my caffeine vehicle of choice, coffee (mocha's, latte's & straight up coffee). Oh, the creamy goodness...

But, for a very noble reason, I gave up caffeine prior to getting pregnant (I avoid caffeine while pregnant, if you don't, that's fine, I don't judge). Since finding out that there was no baby, I have been indulging in things that comfort me (probably more than I should) and caffeine comforts me. I know it's probably not the best for me, but I'm ok with that.

I will soon take another hiatus from caffeine when we start trying again, but for now, I am enjoying every minute of every rocket-powered sip of my full caf, skinny salted caramel mocha from Starbucks...

On a side note, my mom and I were having a conversation earlier about my blog and she asked "How do you come up with things to write about?" In the very best sarcastic tone I could come up with, I replied "I am very entertaining, mama, I have tons of stuff I can ramble on about." As you can see by this post, the "very entertaining" part may have been another exaggeration. I am pretty good at exaggerating, maybe I should add that to my resume...

On another side note, during the same conversation, my dad asked "Who reads this thing?" Apparently, he does not see the social impact my blog has on the world. I replied, "I don't know, friends, people randomly searching the web, pretty much every one. My fan base is huge." See what I mean about exaggerating? I'm actually pretty stoked when I check the analytics and and it shows more than 10 visitors!

I leave you with this uber impressive collage of coffee art...

to the moon and back,