Food Swap!

 I had never heard of a food swap before I talked to Vanessa. I bring food and trade it? How again? I didn't understand it very well, but she sounded so upbeat and happy about it that I signed on to be a part of it. As the day drew nearer, I began to get nervous. What should I bring? Would anyone want my food? Would I be crunchy enough to fit in with a bunch of foodies?!?

The drama was intense.

After a slight mishap with our lovely new fridge's temperature settings during which the fresh salsa I made on Saturday froze overnight and wasn't fit to be served on Sunday (oops. My fault. My bad.), I whipped together a fresh batch of salsa on Sunday morning. I even roasted the jalepenos and garlic ONCE AGAIN even though it made my fingers burn the first time. And then, just for kicks, I made a batch of apple/raisin/walnut muffins. I felt very domestic.

At the swap, I cautiously presented my meager fare in plastic containers and generic ziploc baggies and hoped for the best.

 Awwww... Would somebody PLEASE take pity on my salsa and muffins and make an offer?

Thankfully, friendly faces helped allay my fears and I firmly set my sights on some yummy, spicy chutneys (what IS chutney, anyway?) and baked goods.

 Emily Paster co-organized the food swap and brought, get this: Rose Petal Syrup. I really wanted a taste but it was all bottled up. I wonder what rose petals taste like?

 Awwww... Melisa! I've missed her. We should do a LTYM every other month, Girl. What say you?

 Finally, all of the food was swapped. I managed to unload every item I brought and I walked out of the Savory Spice shop in Hinsdale with my favorite item of all: Chutney relish! OMGOMGOMG it was SO GOOD! I think I would have given her twice the amount of muffins or salsa that she took in trade, but was thrilled to just walk out with a jar! I may have to hide it from my husband...

Look at my loot! All of these unique food items (chutneys, tortillas, muffins, pie, etc.) for just making a batch of salsa and muffins. I am totally sold on this whole "swap" thing.

I am SO going to the next food swap in August. I think my tomatoes will be ripe and ready by then and I will bring a big ole batch of fresh pasta sauce...

Red Alert

We were sitting outside, enjoying the lovely sun and breeze. It truly has been a beautiful early summer. My friend was trying to convince her children that it really WAS time to go home and I was thrilled to be drinking a COLD glass of ICE WATER!**

"Your new fridge is awesome!"

"I agree. Plus, it's CLEAN. That always makes an appliance really gorgeous. I am really excited to review all of the new features and details that this model has."

"Like what?"

"Well, there's the air filter, the water filtration system, the produce freshener and tons of fancy buttons and features that I still have to check out. It's kind of like Whirlpool dropped off a jet plane in my kitchen except that it doesn't fly to Florida when I climb inside and shut the door."

We continued to chat and relax while our kids ran circles around the house when a strange beeping interrupted our conversation. It was loud enough to get my attention, but not annoying enough to be an alarm clock...

"What IS that?"

"It sounds like a timer, or a mild alarm. Do you need to change the batteries on your fire alarms?"

Sure enough, it WAS an alarm. An alarm on my fabulous new Whirlpool fridge that will go off if one of the doors is left ajar. My darling daughter had managed to leave the freezer open after she realized that there was no ice cream to sneak and this brilliant appliance wasn't going to let a single item defrost.

That little red light says "Hey! Your door is open. Just wanted to let you know. And I will never, ever, EVER fly you to Florida, no matter how many times you press me."

Let it be known that I LOVE THIS FEATURE. Many elfin dances of joy will be jigged around my house...

**Let it ALSO be known that I love me some ice water. Crushed, preferably. And brought to me by someone else.

*Disclaimer: I will be reviewing this Whirlpool refrigerator for the next year. Though these posts will be sponsored, all opinions and words will be my own.

A Good Life

Recently overheard from computer desk, as my 6 year old cuts into a bite of leftover chicken:

"Thank you chicken, for sacrificing yourself so that I don't die of hunger."

And that, my friends, has been my day. 

It's a good life.

Sweet Whispers

There isn't any other way to wake up than to the sweet cuddles and kisses of your 4 year old daughter. She stroked my face and kissed my eyebrows and I sighed happily and gave her a kiss back. She snuggled down onto my shoulder and squeezed me tightly. And then, ever so softly, and with the kindest of voices, she whispered this advice to me:

"Hey Mommy? When you wake up and get out of bed? You should get right into the shower, ok?"

Ahem.

Nothing like sweetly being told you STINK by your preschooler at 7 am...

I don't think I've ever laughed so hard. Especially since, well... she was right!
Have a great week. Be sure to bathe often. 

I just read this oldie in my archives from 2009 and laughed so hard I had to share it again. Also? I am lazy. Or tired from too much sun. Or something. But isn't she cute??? I am so glad I have this blog to record these memories. Whenever I feel like I'm a little burned out, I browse through memory lane on my blog and am SO GRATEFUL to myself of 6 years ago when I suddenly got the urge to start a "blog thing". THANK YOU TRACEY of 2006!

Much Thanks

We were standing at one of our many runs to the Meijer in Indianapolis this weekend because, apparently, this is what one must do in order to go to the racetrack on Memorial Day. Don't question the menfolk. Just go with it and everyone will end up with their favorite type of beer and grilled meat of choice and nobody will get hurt.

In line, paying for yet another bag of ice*, an elderly gentleman approaches my husband.

"Did you serve?" he trembles.

"Yes." says Patrick.

"When did you get back?"

"About 20 years ago." my very young-looking husband smiled.

"Oh! Well, thank you. Thank you so much for your service!" the man replies.

"Absolutely, sir. You're welcome."

I was at a loss. Nobody ever approaches ME and assumes that I was in the military! I commented on how random that was.

"It's the haircut," Pat explained. "It happens to me all the time."

And that? That memory was the sweetest one of all of Memorial Day for me. People who go out of their way to remember and recognize the countless sacrifices that our daily freedom has required. I fear that I didn't do a good enough job acknowledging the day, myself. I was so concerned with not passing out from heat exhaustion or sun poisoning, that I only allowed myself a brief moment to pause and remember.

And now, in the artificially cooled air of my safe home in a civilized neighborhood, I gaze around at my blessings and say THANK YOU. Thank you to the people who are not only currently serving their country, but also all of the men and women who have died for America, for freedom... For every parent of a military person who has ever had to mourn the loss of their child. For every child who has had to mourn the passing of their parent. For hundreds of years of sacrificing oneself for the good of the All. For all of the pain that millions and millions and millions of those who were left behind and for all of the joy that those who had to leave missed out on... 

THANK YOU.

He still gets carded at times. Drives me crazy...

*Seriously? Between the old fridge dying and 94 degree heat all weekend, I do believe we have personally kept the ice industry in business for all of May. All of you readers in the Arctic circle? You're welcome.

The Countdown

You know you're an adult when you're more excited for a refrigerator delivery than you would be for a massive pile of Christmas presents.

But trust me: living in a household with 3 kids and 1 husband and NO FRIDGE for 3 weeks has been less than awesome.

But it has been entertaining... (If you consider walking into the house after an outing only to discover that both you AND your husband forgot to restock the cooler with ice and there is an interesting aroma permeating the air.)

Or, if you're the type of person who enjoys throwing away dozens of condiments, lunch meats and frozen foods because the fridge defrosted.

Maybe you enjoy slipping and sliding across the linoleum when the ice tray turns to water and spills out onto the kitchen floor? I must admit, that has been my favorite activity out of this whole adventure.

But nothing, nothing, nothing compares to how happy my face will be when the delivery man pulls up in my driveway with this baby in his truck:

I have a feeling that my face will be something like this:

Me and Audrey Berns just moments before Listen To Your Mother 2012

 Oh lovely, lovely Whirlpool fridge... Just a few more hours and you will be cooling my milk and creating ice. ICE! I can have ice water again! Cool and refreshing and even FILTERED with your PUR system...

**Updated with me standing in my fridge's CHILLED AIR!! I am so happy! What a great way to start Memorial Day Weekend!

*Disclaimer: I will be reviewing this Whirlpool refrigerator for the next year. Though these posts will be sponsored, all opinions and words will be my own.

My Surprise Baby

"Momma! Wait for me!"

Evan ran across the grassy field in his trademark lope; all elbows and knees, cowlicks and crooked smiles.

"Were you chilly, too? Didn't you want to stay at the park for 20 more minutes with the other kids?"

"Nah. I just wanted to come home with you."

We strolled along the sidewalk towards home. It really HAD cooled off since the sun began its descent beyond the neighborhood's homes and trees. In my haste to check on the kids at the park, I had forgotten to grab a sweatshirt. I reached over to hold his hand and he maniacally tittered; darting from my reach.

"Come on, man! Nobody's watching. Hold my hand for a few minutes and we can talk about our birthday trip to St. Louis."

"No! Don't talk about it."

"What? Why not?"

"I want to be surprised."

"Buuuuuut.... you already know where we're going. And what we're doing."

"Just keep it a secret. Each morning of our trip, don't tell me where we're going. Let's just get in the car and drive and when we get there, then I'll know."

Amazing. This kid is incredible. He craves the excitement of the surprise. Rather than begging for every last detail of our special trip, he wants to keep that feeling of anticipation.


One of his favorite stories is the one I tell of my pregnancy of him and the adventures he went on before we even knew he was on his way...

"Tell me the story, Mama! Tell me about all of the things you did that you're not supposed to do when you're pregnant!"

"Well, I didn't know I was pregnant, Evan! I even took a special test to be sure before Daddy and I went on vacation. You were a little stinker, even back then, because the test said negative. I was disappointed, but Daddy and I decided to make the vacation crazy with all of the activities you're supposed to avoid because we knew we wanted another baby."

He always laughs at this point; he knows this story so well.

"I drank all kinds of wine and mixed drinks at a fancy restaurant with Daddy. We ate shellfish and soft cheese and danced. We rode roller coasters and bumper cars and I went on those crazy-fast waterslides that give you wedgies."

"And what else?!? What else did you do?!?" He can barely contain himself by now.

"And then Daddy and I bungee jumped..."

Right here is where Evan will scream with glee; positive that he has caught me in the biggest Parenting Fail of all time.

Happily pointing his finger at my nose,

"You BUNGEE JUMPED when you were pregnant!! You are NOT supposed to do that, Mommy!"

"I know, Evan. But we didn't know you were there! Thankfully, everything was ok because here you are today and you're fairly normal!"

And here is where Evan ALWAYS, always, always makes sure to thoughtfully proclaim,

"Well, that must be why I like roller coasters and king crab so much."


I often think back to his precarious beginning at Life; thrown about in my womb in a sloshing vat of Apple martinis and poorly cooked shellfish. I marvel that we could have missed out on such an astounding person.

Evan is that kid who just gets how a joke is supposed to be delivered, you know? He understands timing and people and has the quickest wit imaginable. (Though he's been known to use this power for evil, he actually has an enormous and tender heart.) He also has a need for adrenaline and adventure that I readily attribute to his early days of Life.

So it shouldn't have come as any surprise when, during our field trip to the aviation museum in Bolingbrook, the guide asked who wanted to ride in the Ultralite airplane (i.e. basically, a lawnmower engine welded to some metal bars, wings and a seat that you strap in with a lap belt I KID YOU NOT) my son's hand went straight into the air.

"Are you sure?" I asked. (I mean, there aren't any sides! Or a top! And did I mention that a LAP BELT was all that prevents you from falling to your death?)

 "No." He grinned. "But I'm doing it anyway!"

 "What was it like?" I asked him later on. "Were you scared or was it exciting the whole time?"

 "It was AWESOME! I waved at the kids on the playground and the pilot dipped the plane and wobbled it back and forth."

 "But it was a little scary during take-off. Can I tell you what I was thinking during take-off?"

"Sure."

"It's kind of a bad word..." (he loves trying to shock me with "bad words")

"I've heard bad words before, Evan."

"Well, I gripped the sides of the seat with my hands, and all I could think was 'Oh Shit!' But then we were in the air and I stopped swearing in my head because it was so AWESOME!"

My adrenaline junkie comedian.

I wouldn't change a thing about him.