My precious...

I have two new pet projects going right now. I would love to be able blame my lack of blogging on my new hobbies but alas, I can't. I'm lazy. Don't look so surprised. My first little jewel is to study marriages and the important do's and donts of both men and women. You will see these little rules in future blogs. I've been reading a lot of books and paying close attention to the relationships around me. Eh. It's a work in progress and it's keeping me and hopefully will keep you entertained.

My second little piece of treasure has become the ultimate game to me. I'm making freezer meals to accomplish 2 goals. 1. Save money. Who doesn't want to do this? I spent less than $100 dollars last paycheck to make over fifty meals. And I'm not finished! Not only do I not have to cook for the rest of the month, I have more money to shop with! YAY! 2. Eat healthier. If the food is already done, there won't be anymore fast food stops.

For this month I've made Rosemary Chicken; Fajitas; Taquitos; Teriyaki Chicken; Chicken Nuggets; Asparagus; Pot Roast; Chicken and Dumplings; Shrimp Primavera; Pizza dough; Hamburger for Pizza, Pizza Casserole, Tacos, Homemade Mac and Cheese; Lemon Pepper Chicken, Pancakes, a ton of Breakfast Burritos, etc.

The thing is that YOU can do it too! It took me 1 afternoon and the will power to make camp in the kitchen. Of course I already had a lot of seasonings and I since I know my monsters so well, I have an idea of my monthly menu already in mind when I do my shopping. For those of you wanting to start eating better (no more take out or fast food for us!) and saving money, I've compiled a list of things that should always be kept in your kitchen.

For the pantry:

-Tomato sauce and paste (use for spaghetti sauce, lasagna, etc)

-Pastas (all kinds)

-Rice (Gold brand rice is all I use. Not sure why. Maybe habit.)

-Low-Sodium Chicken Broth (I make my own but for some, it may be a great time saver to buy the cans)

-Peanut Butter (aside from a good ole' PB&J, peanut butter is an excellent source of protein and can be used to dip apples or celery in)

-Canned beans (kidney, chickpeas, cannellinis)

-Dried Bread Crumbs (I use Italian herb because it gives you more options. I use this for chicken nuggets, meatloaf, meatballs, hamburgers etc.)

-Bread (duh)

-EVOO

-Tortillas (for wraps and burritos)

-A good spice rack (preferably with herbs and spices)

-Potatoes

-Onion

In the Fridge:

-Eggs

-Butter

-Fresh Herbs

-Plain Yogurt

-Milk

-Cheeses (all kinds! Parm, Mozz, Chedder, Provolone, Swiss, etc. Cheese is another good source of calcium and can really make a dish great!)

-Lemons (ok so I go the lazy route on this one and just buy lemon juice. It's good for flavor.)

-Jams and Jellies

-Salad Fixings

-Condiments (mustard, ketchup, mayo, relish, salad dressing, bbq sauce, etc)

For your Freezer:

-Bacon

-Chicken (It's cheaper to buy a whole Chicken and cut it up however you want to make different meals but you can always buy boneless skinless breasts by themselves. I do it both ways because I prefer to eat some things with only white meat i.e. chicken nuggets)

-Ground beef (because I save so much in other areas, I only buy ground sirloin.)

-Frozen veggies

-Frozen fruit

-Peeled and deveined shrimp

-Pizza dough (try making your own. It's cheaper and tastes better)

Once you're stocked, get ready for some work. Add things together to make the dishes and freeze, Freeze, FREEZE!

Ground beef + herbs + onion + ketchup + eggs + breadcrumbs = meatloaf

Chicken + eggs + breadcrumbs + Parmesan + tomato sauce + Mozzarella = Chicken Parmesan

Eggs + fresh herbs + cheese + salad = French omelet with salad greens

Seriously, so easy. Why wouldn't you try? My grocery bill is a normal $300-400 twice a month. Not anymore!! As I get better at my freezer meals I'll post them for you to try too. Some people do extreme couponing, I do extreme cooking. And I love that I've been able to teach my mom something for once.

This ain't sweat...

It's always a good day when the kids are ready for school in under 30 minutes and are even remotely nice (*gasp) to each other but it makes for a great day when you hear from the husband that you haven't spoken to in over a month even if it is only by email. All those ridiculous fears that I had were put to rest when he laid it all out in 5 little words. "I'm so proud of you." Looking back at my life, I've done a lot of things that scream "bad decision" but this man, that I am able to lovingly call MINE , knows all of my past and invited me into his future and is actually PROUD of me. He wants me to be happy and he loves me and he puts up with all of my bullshit. And yes there is a lot of bullshit. I'm definitely a handful and he's always been able to overlook my occasional, childlike bratiness (is that a word?) and does so (usually) without ever being condescending or rude.

I think I like him :)

Where did I go wrong...or right?

My son. The 6 year old full of bright, shining, American boyhood that I can claim as the last to pass on our family name. Somewhere I went horribly wrong with him. Or maybe I created a genius, problem solver and perhaps I just don't understand his phenomenal critical thinking skills. My Prince Charming has never done anything half-ass. When I forgot to buy the magnifying glass that he so desperately needed to conquer tiny ants in the driveway, he took the lenses out of his $600 glasses to make one. When he got bored at the Chevy dealership, he spiced things up by driving a golf cart through the showroom window. When he finds a book that he enjoys, he scratches out the author's name and pens his own right on the cover. Charming is definitely a smart kid and thinks way outside of the box but this time, he's gone too far. Can I blame him? Look at what a good thinker his momma is! Anyway, my boy has a gift for thinking up permanent solutions to the problems in his life and when he confessed to me that every time the blanket fell off the couch it bothered him, I should've taken things much more seriously than I did.

As I laid down to watch some TV, I felt chilled and reached for my favorite, lightweight blanket that stays folded on the back of my new couch. These couches are less than 2 weeks old and are one of the largest purchases that I've ever made without consulting the Baby Daddy. The monkeys and I sat on the floor for months because this decision was weighing so hugely on me. The walls haven't even been repainted yet because of my indecisiveness. So, as I pulled the blanket down over me, it almost immediately felt not so lightweight. Apparently, Charming fixed the problem of the falling blanket that must have stressed him to the core in such a way that he was willing to risk his own childhood to "fix" it. He nailed a blanket to my brand-spanking new couch because....it kept falling down. Are you fucking kidding me?

I quit. I'm throwing in the towel covered in all the sweat and tears it took me to try and raise happy, well adjusted children until their dad comes home. I need a vacation, again. I need a sitter, someone to drink with, and a DD. Who's with me?

I would maybe only be slightly annoyed if he had tucked the blanket into the cushion or piled books on top of it but my son, the thinker, rationalized getting a hammer and nails. What the hell? I'm screwed if this is a glimpse into his teenage years.

Becca

Awkward...

It's been a while since my last blog and for that I'm sorry. Not necessarily sorry for you but sorry that I've let my only healthy coping skill shrivel into a corner only to be re-hydrated by my unfortunate need of an outlet. In my best Kramer voice and exaggerated hand motion I declare "Oh, I'm stressed." I guess if you never saw that episode, you wouldn't be able to appreciate that humor.

For once though, I must say that the demons that I claim as my children have been acting the exact opposite. Okay, maybe not perfect angels but definitely not shredding my last frazzled nerve as they have in the past. They've been good little monsters.

*Let me just interrupt real quick and mention what a beautiful man that LL Cool J is :)

My romantic comedy is still on pause since my baby daddy is still gone. (For all of you that just said "Still?!?" Yes, he's still gone so don't judge me for looking at Mr. J). I'm really anxious about his homecoming. As much as I can't wait to have him back, I worry. What if I haven't lost

enough weight? What if the house isn't good enough? What if he doesn't like the way I've disciplined/dealt with monkeys? I'm terrified that he has these big expectations of us and that he'll be disappointed when he gets back. The very few people that I've expressed these insecurities to were understanding and supportive except one. And today, I've let that one person get under my skin. So, now not only do I feel insecure and paranoid regarding my marriage, I'm taking the opinion of someone that doesn't even really know me at all. And what's really stupid is that I can logically say in my head that what they say isn't important, but I can't seem to get rid of the judgmental tone that made me feel 5 years old.

I'm usually pretty rational and if I can't be, I know I can call my blue-blooded sister wife (okay, bible thumpers, put down your wagging finger. It's a joke.) and she'll be my voice of reason but my anxiety is making my feel out of control and I really really like having control over my emotions. I think that they might be the only thing I have control over and for now, my emotions are betraying me.

I also recently learned that my youngest will be having surgery. And it's not minor. My beautiful Goose was diagnosed with Craniosynostosis. For my non-medical readers, the sutures in her skull have prematurely fused together and will have to be taken back apart and separated with spacers. Again, logically, I know I have nothing to worry about and that it is pretty common

as far as neuro-surgeries go but she's not just a patient, she's my baby. So much could go wrong. After losing two babies already, I feel like I can't emotionally afford anything else happening to my children. There goes my emotions again, running rampant when I really just need them to sit down and shut-up.

I think I just need to hide out again for awhile, recharge my batteries and reboot my main frame (What does that even mean?). But I promise that I won't be hiding out from here anymore. I like having the support of my readers and I miss it here. And guess what, I'm starting to feel better already.

Becca

North America the Beautiful

I remember wishing that I could get out of this "dump". 16 years old and I had a plan. I was never gonna come back. My brilliant idea never included a job or a place to live but I had high hopes. My "plans" have always been viewed with tunnel vision meaning that getting to where I'm going didn't really matter as long as I could see myself at the finish line and everyone would be throwing flowers and telling me how great my idea was. And confetti. There was always confetti. I'm sort of a rockstar/diva in my daydreams. Little did I know that in less than a year I'd be having a child of my own and that any dreams I may have had would have to be shoved in the closet behind the family skeletons. I grew up (kinda) and I had to put others in front of myself (kinda). Eventually, I got married, had more babies and moved across the country away from the places that I swore I'd never return to.

Oh, Hawaii, yes it's beautiful and I love my house and friends. But I'm home now and not even those gorgeous Polynesian men with their beautiful skin and tattoos could make me wanna go back right now. So, unless the Cheyenne returns early or someone pays me a substantial amount of money, I'm gonna stay here and do what I do best. I case you were confused I'm the best at doing absolutely nothing. If anyone comes looking for me, I'll be at Angie's shoving my face.

Day 3285 of my captivity...

My Captors are insisting on sleep deprivation as their primary source of torture. As I was barely getting into an hour of sleep, the larger one that I can only imagine is the tiny one's "muscle" demanded that I get up. To get him....wait for it....a banana. I was weak and although I was allowed a Dr. Pepper and outside rec time for "good behavior", they are definitely weighing on me. I was once again forced into manual labor. The tiny warden demanded that I work in the kitchen and clean the prison's common areas. Apparently, she was not satisfied with my work because she screams at me in her fits of rage. I try to blend in with the general population but then I realize that I am the general population.

I'm really starting to feel like I'm unravelling. Mentally and physically. My mind swirls and twirls with the same thoughts everyday. I need a serious vacation from my brain. I'm tired of being gumby-like. I don't want to be flexible and "in charge". I want another responsible party to come cook and clean for me and remind me to take my medicine and put me in bed before 2 am. Ooooh, I need my mommy. See that right there....perfect example of my deteriorating sanity. Physically, I hurt. Bad. I usually sleep on the floor or in the living room because the ungrateful little brats that I claim as my offspring take over my bed. I feel like I have fishing hooks attached from my spine to my back muscles and with every little turn, twist, or jerk, there is a fire hot shooting pain that makes me want to stab my eyeballs out just to have some sort of distraction.

But oh the joy's of motherhood. Where would I be without my little monsters. Let me apologize to my Facebook family because they've already seen these photos but let me share the beauty that came from my sexual irresponsibility.

"I hate when that happens."

I watched my boy help his friend up after falling down this morning and my eyes got all misty. I couldn’t help myself; it was a biological response to the flood of hormones that surge through me at a certain time of the month. Don’t judge me. I’m a woman. "ROAR"
I was furtively wiping the wetness from my eyes when he hopped in the front seat of the car. I must have had a flashing neon sign on my forehead, blinking “Proceed with Caution, Hormonal Woman Ahead,” because he gave me a strange look and asked me what was wrong.
“Nothing,” I sniffed as I turned the key and proceeded to put the vehicle into drive.
“Something’s up. Two minutes ago you were normal and now you look like someone kicked your dog.”
How does one describe to their offspring that they were suddenly attacked with a severe case of maternal love? That watching my only son bound down the street suddenly reminded me that he was no longer the wobbly-footed toddler from many moons ago? That in watching him, I realized I was watching my future and I was suddenly overcome with a huge amount of mommy pride.
I made him. And I didn’t do a terrible job. Imagine that.
Even more mind boggling, I made him when I was just a kid myself, with no real clue to who I was and with nary an instruction book in sight.
I’m twenty-six years old and suddenly the sounds of a clock ticking out the seconds passing rings in my ears. Every day. Loudly. While other women around me hear the tick tock of their biological clock, I usually remain deaf to that noise. Three kids by the age of 25 and I don’t feel the biological imperative to bring forth life. I’ve been there, I’ve done that. I’d love more children, absolutely, unabashedly, but I have no actual desire to produce them myself. I would be equally satisfied to adopt another, as I would be to purchase one off of eBay.
The sound that haunts me every day is the knowledge that my time with my kids is ending. Their childhoods are almost over, my role as their guide to life is coming to an end way too fast. The contract is expiring. Prissy is standing on the doorstep to 9 and Prince Charming is right behind her, chasing down the days to 7 like a dog runs after a rubber ball.
One day soon, in a blink of an eye, it will just be the Goose and I, alone, waiting for the phone to ring, eager to hear from a husband or a child who has flown from the nest to soar into their own independent world. The downy feathers of childhood are quickly falling out being replaced with the colourful plumage of adulthood.
I never would have thought I’d be emotionally affected by the thought of an empty nest. Most days I stand behind my kids, eager to shove them off of a cliff. Somehow, along the way, I’ve surprised myself with this maudlin sentimentality I’ve acquired.
I never expected to enjoy being a mother. Even as I had my first child I was overcome with this horrible sense of ‘what the heck did I just do?’ But here I am, enjoying the heck out of being responsible for live young. It hangs on my very being and reminds me not to take every minute I have with my children for granted. It’s the reason I attend every sports event, volunteer to chaperone mind numbingly boring field trips, offer to have one endless sleep over after another under my roof. I don’t want to miss a moment of my kids’ childhood. But it isn’t just grief or guilt that inspires such parental involvement. Somewhere along the way I discovered I get a charge out of watching these children grow. It fuels me and I’ve grown up into the woman I finally am just as my children have grown alongside me. I found what I didn’t even know I was looking for all those years ago. My kids make me want to be better. To do more. To try harder.
Like a roller coaster ride you never want to end, I find myself wishing for more time with my kids. I am plagued with a desperate wish to slow down the sands of time just to prolong my daily involvement in their lives. I want to wring every drop of joy I can from simply being their mother because I know it will fuel me for the rest of my life.
Of course, if they turn into unemployed bums mooching off my largesse as they live on my couch when they are 30 years old I’ll likely read this and want to slap myself silly.
The mere act of having children, both accidental and planned, has turned into the greatest thing I never intended. More important to me than the fame and fortune I once dreamed of as a child myself.
For one moment, on our dead-end street, I was suddenly seized with gratitude for not having the sense to use protection all those years ago and bring forth life.
As Prince Charming stared at me like I had just grown a set of horns in the middle of my forehead, I instead chose to keep my maternal pride silent, and looked into his questioning eyes and simply told him, “I bit my tongue.”
“Oh I hate when that happens.”
Me too kid, me too.