thanksgivings

perhaps we should rename the day Thankgivings Day. Because, really, we all have much (plural) about which to be thankful. (yes, punch me in the face for being such a dork)

I am thankful for bandaids.

For friends in medical training who call to advise about a blender injured finger.

For God creating fermentation.

My mama, who answered the phone no fewer than ten times over the past 48 hours, from her vacation in colorado, to answer my questions about family recipes that i've not quite committed to memory.

My daddy, who read to my children last night and tonight so i could have glass(es) of wine and put my tired feet up.

This man below, who told me this morning that he thought the cooking, "could have been more efficient." He repented, clearly, and gleefully did exactly as i hinted the rest of the day - including carving the pretty yummy orange-rosemary turkey that i had (in)efficiently prepared.
(i planned for us to sit down at 1 pm. first person sat down at 12:58 and last person, me, at 1:08. inefficient my ass. we can all tell i've not yet forgiven him his slip of the tongue...)



this kid, who napped from 11 until 1:30 today. he knew. he knew what his contribution should be. he knew, and he rose to the occasion.
go colLINS (that's how eason pronounces his name. come to my house. hear for yourself. it's the best thing ever)



this kid, who is just awesome. sure, he misbehaves, and is almost constantly being disciplined. but he loves all of us- truly - paul, me, ada brooks and collins - loves us. loves jesus, his grandparents, his godparents, his siblings' godparents, his sibling's godparents' little girl whose name he pluralizes, our dogs, our cat, others' dogs, random babysitters, and he is freakin' hysterical, most of the time. except when he's bad. but hey - he's two - and unsanctified... =)




and of course this kid. she's awesome. she wore an apron all day today and yesterday, mainly so, as she said, i wouldn't feel so alone. i heart her and her burgeoning self definition. i can honestly say that her personality today is informative to me about what her personality for the rest of the days will be. she's my favorite little girl in the world. and she's a great assistant cook. and a pretty good big sister. and she reads aloud to her brothers, making her the winner.





i'm also so very thankful for our dear friends. those that love us, put up with us, eat with us, and laugh with us. those that make me smile. those like these:

















and many more, whose pictures i don't have handy.

Basically, God has gifted us with people. amazing people.

and bandaids and wine. bandaids and wine are key.

this is not my turkey. my turkey is still in the refrigerator.

i had this brilliant idea that for my children and their children i was going to blog, with pictures, through making thanksgiving dinner this year. they'd have a nice keepsake, some advice, and some antiquated practices at which to laugh.

it would be fun.

but yesterday, when i started with a pumpkin cream cheese pie, it all fell apart.

i learned recently that my mother in law loves pumpkin pie. i don't like pumpkin or pecan pies. i'm unamerican. but you have to have at least one at thanksgiving. i had been doing pecan. but i've switched. now we're doing pumpkin. paul's mother said so.

so anyway.

i started making the pumpkin pie. i had the brilliant idea that i would use my immersion blender.
this model.


i was about to mix the cream cheese, egg, sugar and vanilla. but first i gave a safety lesson.

hey kids - the immersion blender can only hurt you if you put your finger near the blades like this.
*i put my finger near the blade*
and.....ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!
a chunk of my finger flew off into oblivion.

i know - too much imagery. but it's true. the pad of my left pointer finger is now gone. i have no finger prints. i could go on a one fingered crime spree.

but i've no time, because i have to be on a nine fingered cooking spree.

so, because of that, my cooking has not left a lot time for commentary and lovely picturesque photos of whole food ingredient spreads.

Pause. take a minute to relish my idiocy. or idiodacy as our recent president used to say. i blended my finger during a safety lesson for my two year old.

But, if only i had the time/energy/wasn't too maimed for my hands to appear on camera, then i would be writing and photographing through the spread.

but, i can at least report.

i have made the pumpkin cream cheese pie (in Come On In, one of my favorite cookbooks),

the apple cake (my mother's recipe, and one i requested for many birthday cakes. because i was the dorky kid requesting apple cake for birthday cake....),

a broccoli gruyere gratin, a recipe out of Real Simple this month. I usually do asparagus casserole, but paul hates it (it has in it one of the four things he doesn't like to eat: brown rice, squash, blue cheese, and..... canned asparagus). I needed a green vegetable cheesy dish and chose this one. I'll report how it turns out.,

a new potatoes in cream sauce recipe of my great grandmother's. it looks super yummy. i've never had it, but tasted the cream sauce and it was great. will report back.,

sweet potato casserole. this is ada's idea of heaven. " 'cause of the marshmallows, Mama. same reason i love hot chocolate." hard to argue with that.

cranberry sauce. not my favorite, but a staple. it's also one of those things to which i'm befuddled that there is a canned alternative. it's surprisingly simple and surpassingly superior. (go alliteration!)


i've also prepped for many of the dishes i'll make in the morning -

made the cornbread for the cornbread dressing, peeled and chopped the carrots to glaze, blanched the green beans and caramelized the onions for the green bean dish (which has blue cheese in it. i cannot help that three of the four things paul hates, i happen to adore...)

i think i did some other things, but my brain feels like my left pointer finger looks.

this thanksgiving i am thankful for.... my daughter and her dear godfather, they trimmed the green beans and peeled the sweet potatoes - AND did the awesomely fun job of crumbling the cornbread for the dressing - at least forty minutes of work i didn't have to do. And my husband who took all three children to the zoo and to sams for lunch.... Go Team!


Tomorrow!
(tomorrow! i love you tomorrow! you're only a day away!)

I'll do the turkey, finish the dressing, make corn casserole, finish green bean salad, glaze some carrots, make gravy, whip up a chocolate chess pie, and welcome Paul's family for lunch and some stragglers for supper.


Yay for food, holidays, tradition, chefdom, gas stoves, helpers, wustof knives, laughter, aprons, taco bell for supper, and wine.

yay for wine.

oh, and for bandaids.

typing with nine fingers.... oh the new skills i am mastering.

catching up.

[I'm behind. I'm aware. This is why my children don't have baby books. Because I cannot even keep up with an online version of a baby book....

Also, because baby books seem silly to me. This is in large part due to the fact that babies don't hold the same level of fantastical magic over me that they do for most people, especially those that are maternally inclined. I much prefer a talking child. I've said this before and I'll say it again - the babies in my house are lucky to have Paul around. Someone to like them. (we all know i actually do like my babies - i just don't go koo koo for coco puffs about them, like i'm apt to do about a witty two year old...)

and now to the business of actually catching up]

We are in full-time fall mode. I thrive in this season. I want to actually dance. The other day, before house was awake, I went on a walk. I actually caught myself skipping down Kings Highway, a very populated street in Fondren. (please don't think I regularly get up and walk before the house gets up...I don't...I am, actually, often the last to roll out of bed - usually because all other four Forsters are demanding that I do)

We do a lot of outside time - sometimes at the park, sometimes the zoo, sometimes the science museum trails, but a lot of the time, just in our little old back yard.

I get to pull out old fall favorite meals - chili, red beans and rice, chicken pot pie, roast. And we all know that food is what matters most.

And it's even been cold enough for hot chocolate, hot tea, sweatshirts and sleeping in real pajamas.

The leaves have really been falling - which is awesome for the kids and me to play in, but terrible for Paul and his mowing, but, you know, life is hard for all of us at some point.

Things I'd like to write in depth about, but supper is calling:

1) Our thanksgiving menu plans - i'm thinking of taking pictures and actually food-blogging all the way through the holiday (I do the entire dinner from scratch, pretty much alone, every year - it is my fourth baby and minds very well)

2) Our friends, Alexander's and Josh's, recent nuptials at the beach - i promise to write and post pictures. Definitely beautiful - and pretty much perfect.

3) The recent loss of a dear friend's mother to cancer. What this means for our view of God's providence and how incredibly hard it is to live that out in the face of things that seem only to be terrible.

4) Adventures in Christmas Shopping at the Forsters (I found little men!!)

5) Pink, painted, naked bums of Eason.

6) Eason as a turkey at his Thanksgiving Feast.

7) My tone deaf daughter and how thrilled she makes my soul. Especially when she sings.

8) How the way in which you dole out an apple as a snack to your children indicates almost exactly what kind of parent you are...

9) The church calendar and how incredibly valuable it can be to family and church life.



But - alas - shrimp and potato soup to concoct before we head to the fondren district for shopping (ha), wine-ing, snacking, fighting with a boy or two to keep them in the stroller -


(Don't you wish someone would paint your bum pink? Just once before you die? I mean, really, what are the chances?)

fairly wonderful!

For those out there in the ethereal masses who don't know, the fair is to my family what Christmas is to many others.

I have been to the Mississippi State Fair every year since I was either zero or one, we don't know for sure. I have been down the big yellow slide every year since I was one. I love it. I thrive on it. If i ever write a book, there will be a large chapter about the fair. And I'm sure people will want to read it.

Being a child at the fair is almost as great as being a junior high kid at the fair (hoping to sit by the boy you like on a scary ride). Which is almost as great as bringing home your boyfriend from college to go to the fair (and kissing at the top of the ferris wheel). Which is almost as great as being a parent of young children at the fair. Which, according to my parents, is almost as great as being a grandparent at the fair.

We love it. Every minute of it. And this year was no different. Our first fair date was rained out, so we had to postpone. But we went, on the last Sunday of the fair. Mama, Daddy, Little Brother Cliff, Paul, Me, All three Kiddos.

We have a fair routine.




We park fairly far away, and walk down the hill on Amite Street, always taking a great pic of the view. We park, up to 20 minute walk away, because we are cheap and we don't want to pay for parking.



We head straight for the petting zoo. Because it is free and just inside the gates - a great meeting place for the stragglers in our party. We look at things like Zebus. These are just Asian cattle, but "zebu" sounds so exotic, we are all amazed. The children beg to feed the animals. One of their parents or grandparents gives in because, well, it's the fair. (And if you say yes to this 25cent expense, you can later say "aww - we cannot ride the elephant (7$) - remember - we bought that animal food back in the petting zoo")



And then we head up the midway - get a free biscuit from Lester Spell, who has served as the commissioner of agriculture in MS since I had to ride in the backseat of cars. He gives away the best biscuits ever. He is my hero. As we munch on the biscuit, we start walking. We use the biscuit as a distraction as we walk past all of the fair games. We were never allowed to play and we aren't starting now!





And then we ride. (Eason and me on my favorite ride ever, The Orient Express - a dragon roller coaster that makes my heart sing with joy. And his too - see arms upraised.) (Ada on Bee - she is a cautious child, and this is about as exciting as it gets), (Paul and Eason on the merry go round - they don't look alike at all, i swear),

While Eason and I were in line for the dragon roller coaster, two different sets of children, approximately age 8, tried to cut in line. At their mother's behest. Hell in a Handbasket, I tell you - we're on our way. I mean - can you imagine - teaching your children to cut in line for a ride. In front of a two year old? One time i just poked my hip out, making it too awkward for them. The other time, the mother actually asked me if they could cut, and I, as politely and firmly as i could said, "Actually, we've been waiting in line for about 20 minutes..." (i don't do firm, polite very well - my usual mode is to be a pushover, and cuss about it later), and she said "Oh, well, they're kids and..." and I said "Well, so is he..." (pointing to Eason) and she said "hmmph" and walked off.

Who tries to bully mothers and two year olds so her eight year olds can cut in line? Who teaches their children such moral bankruptcy? I wish I would have had the woman-testicles to tell her exactly what she was doing to them. But, I am proud that I didn't let them get away with it.
Baby Steps.

RRRRAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!




And then we eat, making everything, even rude, soulless fair goers, all better. Mama always ALWAYS gets roasted corn, we always all get Penns chicken on a stick (which we could get 365 days a year, but never do), and sometimes we get dessert, as seen above. I like the pineapple soft serve, but i forewent it this year because it was slightly chilly out.

Collins also managed to eat the fair. That was a feat necessitating modesty and hygiene never to be surpassed.



And then, then, ladies and gentlemen, we always ride the big yellow slide. Some poor s.o.b. has to sit at the bottom and take pictures. But not this Mama. I've never missed a year and I won't start now.
I just love it.

This year, after Eason stood up, he said "I have to do it again. Please" in the most sincere, desperate, sweet voice he's ever used. My mother immediately gave in, bought more tickets, and a lucky few got to go twice.

The fair is awesome. Not objectively, really - it's dirty, expensive, and full of unattractive, often rude (see above) people. But, it's also full of families who are like ours - just like us in that they are making memories.

Memories so strong that my parents, who are no longer married, come together, laugh, and take their grandchildren to do the things that have made their children smile for over two decades. The fair is awesome, because not even Christmas can do that around here.

christmas list greatness

I know it's october. And I'm against the premature celebration of holidays. Not to mention that I have a whole list of fall celebrations before we can think about christmas -
starting with the fair this weekend, then halloween, wedding of a best friend, multiple fall festivals going all the way through Thanksgiving.

Now hear this: The Day after Thanksgiving is the Proper Time to begin The Month Long Ish Celebration of the Advent and Christmas Seasons.

I'm sure I'll be opining more on exactly how one should celebrate holidays since they are pretty much the best things ever.

So, we are not in Christmas Mode.

But - Christmas is a big deal around here.

It takes much preparation, and I don't know if you know, but there are a lot of people around here, most of whom are not capable of assisting very much in preparing. So while celebrating (christmas music, decorations, desserts, etc.) is strictly forbidden until the aforementioned DAT, preparing, if the month of December is not to be ruinous, must start earlier.

With Paul in school and me being at home growing these urchins, we aren't exactly rolling in cash - So, I've got to get lists established and begin bargain hunting/assisting grandparents in picking out various items/slowly breaking it to my children that we are not getting live animals...

And today was list establishing day.

One of my favorite days ever. ever. ever. ever. It just gets better every year. My children are funny and Christmas Lists are awesome. And the combination is almost unbearably giddyness producing.

This afternoon, after rest time and before supper time, the two talking ones and I sat on the couch, me with red pen in hand (seasonal colors, clearly), and we visited, for about an hour, about their hearts' deepest, yet realistic, desires.

Rejected Items:

a kitten (this is the third year for ada brooks to request a kitten - and the third year to be rejected. I had to promise all sorts of things to Paul for us to get our one cat, Staples. Paul hates cats. Something about the cats in his childhood. We have a one cat rule.)

a kitten (rejected twice because showed up on both kids' lists. Eason is a copycat. cat. hee hee. love a good accidental pun.)

a pink pony (she said it with a smile. gotta love emerging wit in children)

a design your own soccer ball (i don't have a moral or logistical objection - just a disbelief that she actually wants one. she acquiesced, saying, "well, it just looked cool in the catalog - and you know how i love to design my own things")

a milkshake (from eason, clearly - i will make him a milkshake, but it will not be in his stocking. getting him to differentiate between perishable and nonperishable desires is a problem)


The Final Lists:


Ada Brooks:

1. A Bicycle because, "don't you think it's time for me to ride a bike?"
   
2. A Basket for said bicycle (all her idea - making her mother glow with pride)
   
3. Play men so she can "design her own" food based action shots like ones seen below. She saw these photos, felt an immediate calling, gathered granola bars for a rock climbing scene and was devastated that we had no men suitable for rock climbers.
   
   
4. Any Games "other than Sorry, because she already owns Sorry," if you didn't know.
   
5. Sleeping Bag for camping out in the den (which will last until 830 pm...)
   
6. Fake Flowers
7. Tape
   
8. Pipe Cleaners
9. A Photo of our Whole Family for her room (I would have teared up had I not still been laughing so hard at the earnest desire for men to make foodphotoscapes out of.)
10. Books - "as many as I can get - I bet Papa will get me books" (perceptive little urchin she is)
    
11. This interactive map.
12. This at home planetarium.
13. One of these (something I highly encouraged make the final list...)
14. Fake food for her kitchen. Food is a theme.
    

Eason's list:

1. Bicycle, "So i can ride my bike wif ada"
2. Sleeping Bag, "So i can camp out in the den wif ada"
   
3. A Yellow Blanket
4. Yellow Tennis Shoes "Like Ada's Pink ones, but, yellow"
   
5. A yellow cup to drink out of
   
6. "Some bad guys and some good guys - maybe monkey bad guys" (no, i've no insight here)
   
7. A yellow car
8. A train - "it does not have to be yellow, it could be blue or red or green"
9. "Some over fings like ada"

I love my children - if you haven't guessed that - and listening to them is always a joy - but especially listening to their fairly non-materialistic material desires - if that is a possible description. It's just so wonderful to know what they want, to be on their team about it, and to get to look forward to it and be excited about reindeer and stockings and the singing christmas tree and mulled wine (okay, the mulled wine is for me, although, if i'd let him, eason would join in wholeheartedly.)

Back to Fall Time - but sale shopping and tiny-play-men-to-go-on-food hunting has begun.

put on your own damn jacket

Paul heard an interesting quote this week - "The only thing we used to expect from our children was obedience. Now we expect everything but obedience."

He and I both liked it (we're big on obedience around here - or, rather, we try to be and fail miserably many, many a day), but I got to thinking - it's not really true.

We expect them to grow up, never having to obey, and turn out to be well-adjusted adults with proper boundaries, successful relationship skills, etc. So in that sense, i guess we do expect everything.

But we don't expect them to do things for themselves. I mean - my mother still makes haircut appointments for my 19 1/2 year old college sophomore brother. There are many reasons for this development - and i'm sure i'm not even right about all of them - and i'm not a psychologist or sociologist, so i'll not opine on that topic. But if you'd like to argue that our expectations of children taking care of themselves have not dramatically dropped, call me - we'll talk - i used to teach preschoolers.

I know i've been on a kick about child-rearing and educating lately - what can i say - it's my full time job.
So... Tip of the week (hee hee... me.. qualified to give tips! i love the comedy):
Please encourage your children to be as self sufficient as possible.

It will make your life easier, their lives easier, any caretakers' (especially three year old preschool teachers') lives easier.

Self-sufficient how, you ask? Well, children can do many things that we don't give them credit for or expect from them. I think because it's easier a lot of times for us to do it rather than help them/teach them/help remedy their ultimate failures. (See Pictures for Examples of "Failures from When Ada Brooks Was Three" - Fall 2007 was an amusing and exhausting time around here...)

(resulting from "Ada Bee - it's time for school - and it's a little bit cooler outside today - not quite summer weather anymore - starting to be fall time...")

(resulting from - "Ada - Take off your Tutu and Put on Pajamas, please - it's time for bed")

This is kind of abstract, so, a concrete example - Dressing Oneself:

Paul and I are in an epic battle to get Eason to dress himself. Why? Because Collins cannot really be expected to dress himself...and we've enough on our plates. And because Eason is perfectly capable of doing it.

And because we have fought these battles with Ada Brooks and I could not be more glad. Just yesterday evening, I said to her "hey - go hop in the shower" and thirty minutes later, I spotted her out of the corner of my eye, in pajamas, brushing her wet, freshly clean hair. That doesn't just happen - it has taken MANY frustrating bath time experiences - many of which have ended in me saying, "come on - get back in the bath - your hair is still dry for goodness sakes"

But now, my life is monumentally easier than it could be - i could be bathing three children instead of two - and really, i want to be dressing one child instead of two -

BUT - My life would be easier, in the short run, if i would just dress Eason. I could walk to his room, pick out bottom half, top half, hold them up, he could step in, put arms through holes and we'd be finished. 40 seconds, tops. So, I get why it is tempting - and on sunday mornings and any other stressful/aesthetically important times, I certainly dress the boy - I'm not running a military operation over here or anything.

But most mornings, the dressing of Eason takes 43 hours. Okay, maybe 14 minutes, but it seems interminable. First, Ada, Paul or I have to coach him through picking out clothes. This is not for the sake of style - more because Eason would forego underwear, a shirt, or pants on any given day, so we have to remind him that there are, in fact, three different necessary parts to being considered "dressed". Then, I have to encourage him in the putting on underwear process. I know underwear donning can be difficult. Especially for pregnant people and two-and-a-half year olds. But, it must be done. And it can be done. So, Eas, if you have to, sit down on the edge of your bed, hold them so the tag is in the back, and put in one leg at a time.

(It's at this point I start to wonder if I'm really making a stand on the dressing thing for my own amusement. Watching his little Michael Jordan Tongue Concentration Move is fairly awesome.) He's pretty much got the shirt thing down, so that's fairly easy. But we repeat the same underwear difficulty with the pants.

And then the shoes - heavens - but, if we can find them, he can get them on.

So mainly it's just the underwear and pants. They are hard. But we're getting better. And he whines and gets frustrated, because, like most men, he'd rather not spend a significant portion of his life dressing. He knows I could put the underwear on him in 3.1 seconds. And the pants in 1.6 (they're looser). But, more and more often, I'm able to say, "Eas - go put some underwear on." (I say this a lot- because he's inexplicably naked a lot...) and he'll reappear with underwear actually on.

I am winning the epic battle. I think. I hope. I pray.

You may think this is ridiculous. And you have the right to do that, I guess...

BUT - let me take you, for a moment, to a far away place in a distant land.
Well, just to a three year old preschool room. Your child's class lines up to go outside. It's 54 degrees. There are ten students. There are two teachers. We're talking ideal proportions here - many times it's more like 20 students and one teacher. It's jacket putting on time. Which is easier, do you think? "Susie, Bobby, etc., come here so I can help you put your jackets on" or "Susie, Bobby, please put your jackets on."

So - fight the epic battles! Whether its dressing themselves, putting away their folded clothes, actually folding their clothes (one i've not yet made a habit for Ada Brooks, but it's on the short list of goals), peeling their own bananas, helping pack their lunches, making their beds, setting the table. Fight them! For your own good, for their good, and for the good of preschool teachers everywhere.

i love my men

Ada Brooks goes to a two-day a week program for people in the Jackson area who are classically homeschooling their children. She does ballet, tap, gymnastics, art, music, P.E., lego building, memory work, etc. If you're interested, its called Jackson Classical, and their website is here.

Anyway, while she's gone, I get to spend good time with the boys. Reading to them, looking at pictures, playing, just visiting. This morning, I've been logging some missed computer time and while I was sitting at the computer, Eason was dressing up in various things from the dress up box and coming in to model and discuss his fashion choices.

He came out, informed me that I needed a hat, and presented me with a solution.

It's been a long time since I've put on a boy's cap, but it makes me feel romantic and nostalgic for days of courtship and flirting gone by. Makes me love my husband, whose hat it is, and my son who brought it to me. And my baby who thinks i look hysterical in it.