Happiness is....

Happiness is a fat 3 month old.  Even though we are battling yet another cold, this one invited his good friend dry cough.  lovely.

Happiness is also homemade ricotta! I haven't purchased ricotta in months.  Frankly, it is expensive and gross.  But I love cheese, especially fresh cheese.  When I realized how easy it is to make ricotta, the cheese heavens parted.  There are lots of recipes out there.  I used one from Hide the Cheese.  Now it is your turn.....

 First things first.  Get a nice big stock pot and scrub it with cold water.  This will prevent the milk from scorching.  Scorching is bad, I have proof positive of that.... observe.

Next, gather the gang.  Half a gallon of whole milk (I have also used low fat combined with half and half), salt and vinegar.  You can substitute lemon juice for vinegar.  I use white vinegar because I need a lemon tree.

Now plan on babysitting some milk.   You want to bring the milk and a 1 tsp. of salt to a simmer.  Don't boil it, get it going to about 180 degrees.  It will be nice and frothy.

 

 Now for the science experiment, add 3 TBS of vinegar to the mixture.  It will start separating....

 Simmer it for a couple of minutes and at that point you might realize that you forgot to get your strainer, bowl and cheesecloth out.  Quick! Grab a bowl and a strainer.  The cheesecloth makes it easier and cleaner but you don't have to have it.

 And then you get this little pile of love.

 I recommend spooning some into your mouth while the cheese is still warm. 

 If you are making a pasta dish, cook the pasta right in the leftover liquid (is this whey?).  Yum. 

 At this point, the baby starts to fuss and Super Dad comes through to close.  By the time you are done feeding her, this delish is in the oven. 

Super cheese!!! 

This boy house is infected with girl

Lauren got her first princess movie for Christmas: Beauty and the Beast.  The boys have watched it at least 3 times (in the last week since it has been opened) and requested to watch it 15 times.  It is one of my favorite Disney movies, I've seen it no less than 100 times and used to listen to the soundtrack on a daily basis.  When we aren't watching the movie, the boys are making requests for songs. 

As a result, Keith has been conceptualizing a Beauty and the Beast-Star Wars cross-over.  "I wish we had Beauty and the Beast/Star Wars movie."

 +

 Princess Leia as Belle

Luke as Gaston

 

Chewbacca and Han Solo as the Beast

 

 But Keith isn't the first one to have this idea......

How I deal with my issues.

I have issues.  Moving into a new house put a spotlight on my issues.  It was much easier to hide my issues in a bigger house.  I had a whole walk-in closet full of issues! My issue... I don't know that I would call it hoarding but it is definitely Hoarding's cousin. Kevin refers to it as my "need to fill every empty space"....

For example, I have issues with cleaning.  I'm not very good at it, so to compensate I purchase cleaning supplies. Lots of cleaning supplies.  I never realized how many cleaning supplies until they all came to live in one place.  Seriously, 13 bottles of Scrubbing Bubbles.

Soldiers poised to fight dirt.

I also tend to buy random presents that I lose track of and never actually use.  Boxes and boxes full of presents. 
I purchase beauty products by the pallet. 
And my clothes.....  Bins full of clothes from size 10 on up (or down).  And I need to get out more because I have lots that qualify for NWT (new with tags). 
Moving forced me to take a lot of stuff to consignment, sell things at a garage sale and attempt to organize what was leftover.
And then I came face to face with spool after spool of ribbon.  It all gives birth to the cut ribbon that I use to wrap candles, plates, and whatnot.  It was a mess. 

 

See.  That's just a little bit of the mess.  Who can figure out what was even available.

 

 So I took some of these that I had hanging around (I also tend to buy random craft supplies).  And started wrapping.  And the mess turned into.....

THIS!  Happiness in a basket. 

Now, I'm contemplating this lovely for the teachers and my mommy friends.  Check it out at Then she made  Do you think I can do it?

Give me one more week

I'm adjusting.  I'm finishing up an online class (teaching it that is). I'm chasing after boys. I'm folding laundry. I'm figuring this thing out.

Look how big Lolo (she's racking up nicknames like nobody's business) is getting!  I'll be back soon!

Edited to say: I know I have been out of it.  I haven't clicked through to Be Different Act Normal in months.  Just saw the cutest Valentine project and actually contemplated taking it on!  whoa.

Creative Writing

I have been known to craft a story or two when asked to put pen to paper.  In Elementary School my tales mostly involved Ricky Schroeder, Punk Rockers and my besties.  In High School, I didn't write as much but one tale stands out for me.  We were doing some kind of (lame) state writing test.  There was some lame prompt about disappointing your parents.  So I did what I usually did, I made up a story.  It was an elaborate tale about crashing my father's beloved sports car, "his fifth child."  ALL LIES. 

I received a perfect score on the essay and thought nothing of it.  That is until my teacher decided to use it as an example for all of her English classes thus exposing my penchant for lying and uncontrollable addiction to run-on sentences to 33% of the Freshman class.  And that brings us to present day....  Mini-me.

Patrick and Mama Lou- December 2010

Several weeks ago I was reading one of Patrick's writing assignments.  The prompt was: I like the cold weather because.....   He wrote about hot chocolate and blankets and then went on and on about watching TV in his room.  How great it is that he can cuddle under the blankets and watch his very own TV.  Um, liar?  yes.  I asked him about it and may or may not have encouraged the creativity (even at the expense of my own embarrassment).  He continues to make up bits and pieces and sometimes complete stories for his schoolwork.  The week before Thanksgiving he wrote that one of his chores was raking leaves.  Yeah right. 

Now he has expanded to his own freestanding tales, featuring those around him.  So I present to you the untitled, unpublished, unedited edited (I left the run-on sentences for dramatic effect), unfinished first draft by Patrick.

A long time ago there was a village in the middle of the village there was a castle in the castle there was sum doors.  In one door two knights were standing beside two chairs in the chairs sitting was a keen and queen the king's name was King Keith the queen's name was Queen Lauren the two knights name was Knight Jack the other knight's name was Knight Patrick the next door had a princess and prince the prince's name was Prince Kevin and princess's name was Princess Lindsay the hunt dog's name was....

More to come, I'm sure.

Paralysis

Last night.....

I can't move. I'm sitting on the couch with a sweet sleeping baby affixed to my chest. I've been here for awhile. Lost in the moment that has likely rolled into enough moments to make an hour or two.

There are dishes to wash. Laundry to fold. Dogs to feed.  Muffins to make.  Movie night leftovers to tidy. But here I sit.


Her breathing is captivating. Her desire to sleep above my heart is fascinating. Her sighs, oh her sighs.
So here I sit.

I'm desperately in need of a shirt without a baby spit-up badge. I'm dying of thirst. I need to wash the make-up off my face and wash the spit-up out of my hair.  I'm sore. My body is once again contorted to make her comfortable.  The familiar pain in my neck returns.   But I can't move. I'm paralyzed.  So here I sit. 

Motherhood is nothing more than a series of delightful, self-inflicted discomforts.  Some physical (childbirth), some emotional (first day of school) but all wonderfully painful.  And for this I thank God.

I could sit here forever.

This is the story of a girl.

Despite my last pregnant post (blah, blah, blah, I'm being patient, come whenever you feel like it), I got really impatient (and worried, and anxious, and all that).  I went to see my doctor on Monday the 18th and got the standard "any day now" answer.  "All you need are a few good contractions."  Then he saw a look in my eyes and offered up the induction alternative.  "You name the day."  We named Wednesday, 10/20/2010.  Lauren's due date.

This gave us a day to get all of our ducks in a row.  Pack the boys up, spend hundreds of dollars at Costco, catch up on laundry, close our eyes for a minute or two.   It was the strangest feeling going to bed knowing that we would have a baby tomorrow.  Kevin slept, I spent the night having monstrous contractions. 

We were told to arrive at the hospital at 6:30 am.  We did.  We checked in and we waited.    For four and a half hours we watched the waddlers come in and out.  Pregnant lady after pregnant lady paraded through the lobby and up to Labor and Delivery.  Labor checks, non-stress tests.... everyone who took precedent over my need for pitocin.

Finally, 11:00 am rolled around and it was finally our turn to ride the ride!  The entire front desk staff cheered for us as we made our way upstairs. 

We made our way upstairs to wait some more.  By 6:45 that evening I was hooked up to this, that and the other thing and Lauren was on her way.  We forgot to tell our nurse that I progress very quickly.  My doc was there (not like Keith's delivery when the doctor ran in from the parking lot to catch the baby) but there was still a wave of urgency when I announced that there was pressure. 

At 7:15 pm, Lauren Elizabeth Callahan made her way into the world.  Beautiful, perfect and assertive.  6 lbs 15 oz she was bigger than her brothers. She was undoubtedly our baby, a perfect cross between Patrick and Keith in her earliest hours.  We were instantly and hopelessly in love. 

At that moment our lives shifted.  Suddenly inconsequential things became monumental.  Her lips, her squeaks, a hiccup.....  Kevin stares at her the same way he stared at the boys.  And we were only ten feet outside the when the breathing checks started.  After less than 24 hours Lauren already had her Daddy-given nickname: Baby Lou.  I'm jolted awake to our new reality every time I hear him whisper her nickname.  For a split second I think he's talking to me (Mama Lou) and then I remember and smile to myself.

She's too little for so many things (as Keith points out on the half hour: Can Baby Lauren have gum? cereal? cinnamon rolls?  Can she crawl? swing? ride a bike?).  Still too little to really know who she is to the bottom of her being.  To know her the way I know my boys.  I sense her, I sense a beautiful spirit to match her beautiful features.  But I don't presume to know her beyond who she is today: a gorgeous snugly baby who screams like a girl.

And so her story begins.