For the love of cake...

When I found out I was pregnant with my son, I was a wee bit bummed that his due date was in the middle of November.  You see, my birthday is in November.  And so is my twin sister's.  And my husband's, my uncle's, and my grandpa's.  So I was disappointed that his birthday would have to be shared with so much family.  Surprisingly, my son came 3 weeks early - in late October - and we avoided the whole November birthday conflict.

However, four months later I found out I was pregnant again.  And due in November.  My daughter came 5 days after my husband's birthday, and 5 days before mine.  Oh well, we could still have fun with that.  Then the next year I gave birth to my third child.  In November.  Ironically, I now wish my son's birthday was November just for the sake of unity.

Needless to say, November is a busy month for us given that our birthday's tend to hug Thanksgiving like a long-lost relative and we spend a solid two weeks eating and celebrating...and baking.  

So last week, in a matter of four days, I made four cakes (and some cake pops) and had a blast doing it!  Here are some pics:

French Vanilla (box mix) with Swiss Meringue Buttercream

"Autumn Delight" cake (sweet potato cake) with Brown Sugar Swiss Meringue

Raspberry Chocolate Ganache

(I noticed the cute little finger swipe after I took the pic)

 My fourth cake was a carrot cake order that I didn't get a pic of before it was picked up.  

However, here is a pic of me holding my birthday cake, made by my amazing Dad.  

Who knew he could make cakes?!?  I was hugely impressed.

Now it is time to recoup before Christmas.  =)

I'm Thankful.

1. I'm thankful for my family.  We have had some great highs and some extreme lows.  But God is sovereign and loves to bless.  What a gift.

2. I'm thankful for the unbelievable freedom of going into this season 100% debt free.  It hasn't been easy, we've had to make sacrifices, but it's been worth it.  What a gift.

3. I'm thankful for my husband's job.  There are so many people facing the reality of unemployment, and yet my husband was blessed with a career where, not only does his company continue to grow, but he is able to provide jobs for others.  What a gift.

4. I'm thankful for my friends.  Never before have I realized the treasure chest of friends I have been blessed with.  Through even our low times and our efforts to pursue adoption, we have not just been surrounded, but we have been picked up and carried by these people.  What a gift.

5. I am thankful for the fulfillment of wants.  Not only have needs been met in abundance, but I have been blessed with so many of my wants as well.  A cutting board set, hot coffee on cold mornings, a new outfit, great books to read, and several date nights with my husband are just a few of them.  What a gift.  

6. A God who continues to love, forgive, and bless me.  Just the other night I read about how awesome it is to give praise to a God whom we cannot exaggerate.  What a gift.

I know people say we should be thankful for these things everyday.  I am.  Nonetheless I still appreciate being given a day to meditate on all the blessings in my life, and to spend that day with friends and family doing the same.  

What a gift.

The Day I Was An Awful Mommy

A few days ago my children went insane.

A typical day with them includes a handful of interventions, but three days ago that "handful" amounted to at least twenty before lunchtime.  I was losing both discipline options and my patience very quickly.  So when I heard a curdling scream from my bedroom, I ran back there and grabbed the offending party (my middle daughter), gave her a swat on the bottom, and plopped her on my bed.  "You stay here and DO NOT MOVE."

I grabbed the younger, injured party and started for the girls room, with the intention of separating them for the next hour.  However, on my way out the door I heard the sobbing scream from my bed, "Bu-ut Mommy!!  I di-didn't d-d-d-do it!!!!"


I looked at my youngest whom was still crying due to her injury, then looked at the accused questioningly.  I knelt down and asked my daughter how she got hurt.  "Fr-from the cl-cl-closet."  *sniff*sniff*

My stomach dropped.  I had done what no parent ever wants to do - I'd punished in frustration.  But worse than that, I had punished unfairly.  I had sent a message to my children that the judge and jury they depend on for daily mediation can be unfair and unjust.  Talk about brutal humbling.

So I did the only thing I could think of.  I cried.  I cried and I asked her to forgive me because I, her mommy, had completely wronged her.  Her own teary eyes stared at me for a split second until she realized that she was no longer in trouble, then broke into a huge grin and let out the sound of perfection: a giggle.  I had been forgiven.

Why did I write this?  Because I want to make it clear that I am not a perfect parent.  My dear child was the victim of a a faulty justice system, and it was my fault. But I've learned that honesty in this area usually begets improvement, and improvement in this area is what I crave.

So thanks for reading my confession.  Tomorrow I expect to be perfect.

Birthday Party Success!

Today is my son's 6th birthday.  They're not lying when they say they grow up too fast.  This morning I watched him making pancakes for breakfast.  He asked me to come over and pour some into shapes so I tried, but they kept coming out funny.  "That one looks like a pickle."  "That one looks like the moon."  At least he was positive about it.  Apparently I even made one that looked like a chrysalis.  Props to me for that.

Since his birthday fell on a Monday, we decided to have his birthday party on Saturday.  And MAN did we have fun!!  We asked the boys to come at 9am, still dressed in their p.j.'s.  We fed them cereal, watched Saturday morning cartoons and had a rockin' pillow fight.

Here are some pics of the event!

The invitation.  Funny story about Noah.  My son said he wanted to invite this little boy to the party, but I found out later that he was no longer in C's AWANA group...and hadn't been since LAST YEAR.  With no way to contact him, we had to forfeit the attempt.

We had gobs of cereal waiting for them!

Coloring pages of Phineas and Ferb - C's cartoon of choice.

Can't forget the vitamins!

The favors, their own cereal spoon and some magic milk straws.
(They also took home a box of their own cereal concoction.)

Pillows are fluffed and ready for the pillow fight.

My blue couch joined in the festivities.  Can you see why I love it so much?  : )

The pillow fight!

The Birthday (pan)Cake!  Layered with chocolate chips, this was a huge hit!

Overall, this party was absolutely perfect.  I would totally recommend it to anyone looking for an easy (and affordable) birthday option!  

(For more ideas on the event, take a look at the blog where I stole this idea from here.)

My thoughts on occupying ANY street.

First of all, Occupy Wall Street confuses me.  Can some tell me EXACTLY what the goal of the movement is?

I read on the Occupy Wall Street website that this movement is"fighting back against the corrosive power of major banks and multinational corporations over the democratic process, and the role of Wall Street in creating an economic collapse that has caused the greatest recession in generations."


Huh?  


How much power can major banks, multinational corps and the so-called "Wall Street" possess if not first granted by our friend, Mr. Government?  None.  


Let's consider, for instance, the housing market crash.  Thanks to my real estate classes, I've learned quite a bit on the subject:


In 1977, Congress passed the Community Reinvestment Act which required lending companies to quit discriminating against credit requests from people in low-income neighborhoods.  Up until the year 2000, the percentage of lending devoted to low-income living was at or around 30%.  


In 2000, during the Clinton Administration, that percentage was raised to a whopping 55%, and in 2007 (during Bush's administration), was raised again to 55%.  


So herein lies Problem #1:  Subprime mortgages.  More than half of all mortgages being given out by financial institutions were what we call "subprime", which literally means "less than prime." 


Problem #2:  Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac were busy buying up these loans.  Banks lend buyers the money, then turn around and sell those loans (more specifically the interest) to larger companies (e.g. Freddie Mae, et al) so that they have the cash to keep giving mortgages to borrowers.  That's fine and dandy, and it worked great, unless it's the government insuring most of these mortgages, and most of these mortgages are subprime.


Problem #3: Investors stopped investing.  How is it that Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac could keep buying up these mortgages from the banks?  It's because investors would invest their money for what are known as Mortgage -Backed Securities (MBS).  I'm not going to go into the details of those.  When the interest rates jumped up on the subprime mortgages, the borrowers could no longer afford them so they stopped paying them, which obviously made investors worry about their investments and stop investing.  With no more money coming into Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac and no money being paid on the mortgages, it only makes sense that the entire system crashed.  


But wait.  Who started the problem?  (Answer:  the government)


In a study regarding lottery winners, published in The Review of Economics and Statistics, results showed that more money does not solve a spending crisis.  Essentially people who cannot handle a budget rarely do any better when more money is handed over to them.  So while I am in 100% agreement with the OWS movement in that large corporations (big banks, etc) should not be bailed out of financial hardships as a result of stupidity, I also don't believe they should be paying more in taxes than is already required.  Teach the government to work on a budget, and then reevaluate the tax percentages.  


I suppose watching my husband run a business gives me a bias in this situation.  He is incredibly fiscally responsible when it comes to running his business and our family willingly takes a smaller income just so he can pay off his business debts faster (e.g. truck leases). 
My husband and I pay for our own health insurance, we are funding our own retirement (and don't anticipate taking in Social Security, although we pay it dutifully), my husband lowers the unemployment rate via his business, and we give to charities monthly.  We are definitely part of the 99% who work hard.  However, I refuse to see the economical problems we're facing originating from the (much too stereotyped) 1%.  I'd argue that it's a two-fold problem resulting from a) the lack of morals we are seeing throughout our country's leadership, both government and corporate and b) yes, I'll say it - our government is too big.

Curious...

I have two siblings and five cousins in my generation of the family tree.  The kicker here is that, of the 8 of us, we are ALL FEMALE.  So I missed out on some seemingly necessary information regarding the opposite sex.  Some of it was easy to understand and accept:  they like dirt, and trucks, and blowing things up.  And if they can't participate in it themselves, they like to watch shows about it.  But after being married to a man for the past 7 years, one thing still puzzles me.

Why do men believe they have the power to change the color of a traffic light?

Goodbye.

Last ride in my Dad's jeep.  

Yesterday my family said goodbye to our puppy.

No, she wasn't really a puppy - she lived a full and happy life - but she was the youngest in the line of our childhood dogs and therefore always the baby.  I realize some people may mock the relationship a person can have with a dog, but until you experience the transformation of an animal becoming a family member, it's difficult to comprehend the the reality of the loss.

Reba was our first childhood dog.  We brought her home because she managed to run circles around my little sister (who was a mere toddler at the time) without knocking her over.  Win.  She became the Lassie of the neighborhood, roaming the block playing with the kids and barking at the strangers.  At one point we had to quarantine her because we found out the neighbor boy had jumped on her back and injured it.  She didn't do a thing to him.

Sarah, our second dog, was my personal dog.  My mom insisted "NO BLACK LABS" because we had a friend with a black lab who left dreadful amounts of black hair all over their house, but it was because of that black lab that I wanted a black lab.  Catch-22, ugh.  So I decided I'd go for a Siberian Husky.  "NO SIBERIAN HUSKIES BECAUSE THEY'RE TOO BIG."  Seriously mom?  What CAN I have?  =)  I finally settled on trying to find a Siberian Husky mix because they'd likely be white with light eyes, and if mixed with the right breed, would be smaller.  Besides, our family has always been a sucker for mutts.  Whatever the dog, I was going to call her Honey because I thought it was the perfect name for a dog.  One afternoon we walked into the Humane Society and - lo and behold - the angels were singing and shining down on this one dog.  She was a medium-sized Siberian Husky mix named Honey.  I kid you not.  I called my mom over, absolutely thrilled that God would answer my request so perfectly...until my mom pointed out the reason she was there: "Does not get along with other dogs."  Seriously?  I'm sure I looked for a candid camera at that point.  Or suggested that some animals were meant to be wild and we should go ahead and set Reba free.  Yeah, that didn't work.  So we kept looking.  Long story short...we came home with Sarah - a black lab/dalmation mix.  I'd like to say my mom ate her words, but since she was the one who let me get Sarah, I won't.

Penny came very soon after.  She was the runt in a pack of misfit pups - part coyote/part German Shepherd.  Little did we know what we were in for.  A snapshot of her life includes electrocution (her own fault), eating a couple pounds of chocolate and sprinting through the house for. several. hours., trying to escape the lawn chair she was tied to while down at Fiesta Island, and keeping all the airplanes out of the yard for the many years we were blessed to call her ours.  And to this day we've never had a plane land there.  In honor of her service, I made this:

I put it on her little grave in my parents backyard.

Last night I went to bed just fine.  I was thinking a lot about my younger sister, to whom Penny belonged, because I realized this was her first night without her dog.  Those first nights are always the hardest.  But I was fine...until this morning.  Because I have to go to my parents house today.

I haven't lived with Penny since I moved out of my parents house several years ago, but I go to their house quite regularly (can anyone say "free babysitting", haha).  I have no doubt I was secretly Penny's favorite visitor (don't worry Penny, I won't tell anyone) if only because I would come in feeding her handfuls of treats.  Actually, the treats were a ploy to get my mom's puppies to like me and, to this day, have STILL not made a dent in our relationship.  But if chunky ol' Penny was going to go wriggle and squirm to stand up and trot over to me, of course she was going to get some.  Of course.

But not today.  Yesterday she joined our two other childhood dogs wherever dogs go when they die.  There are some arguments that animals make it to heaven, and I'll be okay believing that if only because it makes me smile to think that she's running with her canine sisters and probably keeping the angels from landing.

 Rest in peace, Penny.  We love you.