Why Do I Have to Share a Room?

I've been on the hunt for new bedding for a couple of months now.  When I saw this, on (where else?) Pinterest, I thought I had found the perfect one

(this is when I thought Aaron's only stipulation would be price)

I showed it to him, telling him that it had been made out of sheets, yada yada, and a comforter from Ikea and so it was super cheap. 

He wrinkles his nose and goes, "It's kind of girly."

This is from the guy who tells me that I can do whatever I want with the house because he trusts me.

So off on the hunt again I go.  Apparently, he doesn't want it to be cheap.  He wants it to last, so he never has to buy another one again (okay, so I guess that's cheap, but not in the cheap way I first imagined) and it can't be girly (tell me, how do you find cute bedding that isn't plain and boring but not girly)

This is the one I'm currently eying (and its gotten Aaron's approval)

But heck no am I paying Pottery Barn's asking price.  I'm bidding for it on eBay.  (love eBay) 




Oh, and just another random note.

Aaron says lots of funny things.  This is his most recent one:

"What's a Kim Kardashian?"

Bless him.

J.Crew! How Could You?

I just got my J Crew catalog yesterday, so I started flipping through.

It was typical.  Thin models with messy hair and pouty lips. 

Until I got to the men's section.

(and I can't find a picture of this online, probably because they were so ashamed of it)

It's a guy, wearing swim trunks standing next to a pool.

Sounds normal?  Right?

But wait...

He's got his lovely Italian cashmere sweater on as well.  You know, his $700 one, that just looks so fabulous over his swim trunks he couldn't resist.  Dry clean only?  Say what?  No, this chlorine and water will do wonders for my sweater--like shrinking it to Barbie size.




 
 

Brains Are Awesome

Supposedly we only use 10% of our brain (or some small ridiculous number like that)

I think that when we are resurrected, we'll be able to use the entire portion of our brain, and that's when I'll be able to comprehend a no beginning.  I can comprehend never ending, but never starting.  Say what?

 

*I did not add the cheesy caption at the bottom.  Mine would have been so much more clever, with fewer exclamation marks.

First, does anyone know how to tell my body that I am no longer a teenager and would like my skin to stop acting like it is one?  Zits are no longer welcome.  I passed my teens a long time ago.

We went to my in-laws house in Fruit Heights this weekend.  Story of my life.  The one weekend we're not in the 100's here, is the weekend I leave and go someplace where it snows.  I can never have nice weather.  Ever.

This recipe is one of the meals that we had.  My MIL is brave, and tries new recipes (unlike her daughter-in-law.  I tend to get into a cooking rut), but this is fabulous.  And you sound so talented when you tell someone what it is.

Chicken Satay with a Peanut Chutney and Coconut Rice

• if you  think of a shorter name, let me know

Marinade:
2 T McCormick Hot Madras Curry Powder
1/2 cup oil
1/2 cup soy sauce
4 cloves minced garlic
2 T sugar
Peanut Chutney:
1 lg white onion-pureed
2 T oil
1 cup peanuts
1/2 to 1 T red pepper flakes*
2 t coriander
2 T soy sauce
1/2 t cumin
3 T brown sugar
2 T lemon juice
1/2 can Coco Lopez cream of coconut (found by the drink mixes)


2 cups white rice
3 to 4 lbs chicken tenders (or about 4 breasts cut into strips)


*my MIL put in the entire tablespoon of red pepper flakes and it was too spicy for me, but I find Hot Tamales hot.


Marinate the chicken for 4-5 hours.  You can either grill the chicken as is, or put it on skewers (makes it look even more gourmet).  Grill until cooked.


For the chutney: Use a food processor to finely chop peanuts (but not to a paste).  Brown pureed onion in 2 T oil in skillet.  Add peanuts, spices, brown sugar, lemon juice, and soy sauce.  Add 1/2 can Coco Lopez (use remaining 1/2 can as part of liquid to cook rice in.  Use 4 cups of water/Coco Lopez to 2 cups rice).  Simmer chutney on stove top for 15 minutes, stirring often.  Serve chicken and chutney over rice.

Shopping Isn't What It Used To Be Anymore

Stephanie, my little sister, asked me if I wanted to go to St. George with her today because she didn't want to go in by herself to get pants and an undershirt. 

I foolishly agreed, thinking, there's two of us, two kids, it'll be a cinch.

(when does my brain start remembering how awful each excursion that lasts longer than 20 minutes is?  Because I would really like to know when it will stop torturing me)

I spent my entire time in the bathroom.

Cade would yell, "Mommy, PEE PEE!!" clutch his crotch, and run around in circles, like there was Niagara Falls about to bust out of there.  We'd race to find the nearest salesperson (why is the bathroom always at the other end of the store?), and then race to the bathroom, me clutching our lovely portable potty seat in its plastic bag.

We hurry in, the whole time I'm telling Cade, "Wait to go pee pee.  We're almost there.  Almost there!"  I throw the seat on, rip off his underwear and shorts (he insists on this) and plop him on the toilet. 

He goes pee, but it's only enough to fill a quarter teaspoon. 

We repeated this every 5 minutes. 

Every time he screamed, "Mommy!  Pee PEE!!" I wanted to ignore him, but there's that awful suspicion, "What if its for real this time?"  So off we went.  And the more frustrated I got.

I always plan out things in advance.  Exactly how I picture its going to be.  And I always get frustrated when it never goes exactly how my brain planned it.  This trip to St. George was supposed to be fun and relaxing.  I was supposed to get to browse, talk, maybe try on a few things (like the lovely navy blue polka dot wrap dress at Ralph Lauren.  Way out of the budget, but it would have been fun to try on), and hand crackers to my children while they sat contentedly in the stroller.

Not spend my entire time in the bathroom or bouncing a tired Jackson. 

Eventually I will learn. 

Mentsch tracht, Gott lacht.
Translation: Man plans, God laughs.

Good Deals

I love walking into a store and feeling like a got a great deal, or saving more than I spent (Aaron never seems to appreciate that as much as I do), but I am a big savings freak.  My parents subscribe to ShopSmart (it's done by Consumer Reports) and I read that magazine cover to cover.  I also read every single word on the cereal box, but that's just because I'm nerdy.

Anyway, I thought it was interesting that they had a little thing on which companies had the best loyalty programs for their customers, and if you're interested, click here

And just for kicks and giggles...

I'm ashamed to admit that I got a 100% on this test.  I guess I'm a sucker for advertisements.

Potty Training

I didn't think I was going to get to write a post about this for at LEAST another year. 

A couple of weeks ago we were at the library.  Cade runs to me with a really concerned look on his face and says, "Mommy!  Poo poo." 

I checked his diaper and nothing.  So I asked him if he needed to go poo poo and wanted to go on the potty.  We hurried to the bathroom, but by the time I ran back to Jackson and could get Cade on the toilet, it was too late.  The deed was done. 

(I had left my diaper bag in the car thinking, I won't need it.  We just changed diapers, they don't need snacks, and my library card is on my key chain)  Every time I think I won't need my diaper bag.  I do.

Cade hates to leave the library.  I spend most of my time debating if I'll look like a terrible mother to leave him in the front of the library while I rush off to the car to deposit my 27 lb chunka lunka and then race back to get him.  Because the library faces the only main road in Overton, I always opt for the second, more safe option, of dragging Cade across the concrete and the pavement while he screams the whole way.

We're still diaperless at this point.

I get to the car, put Jackson in the car-seat and try to convince Cade to let me put on his diaper.  He's crawled in the backseat of our van so that he can try and buckle the seatbelt.  Another 5 minutes later and I hear, "Mommy, wet!  WET!"

I told him that's what happens when we go pee-pee on the floor and not in the potty.  He looks at me, and I saw one of those light-bulb moments happen in his mind.  A diaper wicks the moisture away from him, so he never feels that he's wet when he's peeing. 

This last Wednesday (6 days ago), I dropped Jackson off with my little sister Stephanie and Cade and I spent the whole day learning that we don't go pee pee on the floor, we go pee pee in the potty. 

And I think we have success.

I tried really hard not to push him past what he was ready for.  I don't want to traumatize him and make it so that he never goes, but the past three days he's come up to me and said, "Mommy!  Pee pee!" or "Mommy!  Poo poo!" and we race to the bathroom and there he goes.  He's stayed dry in his big boy underwear during his nap and all through church.  The only time he has an accident is if he's doing something really fun (like throwing water balloons at daddy). 

HURRAY!

*his reward if he goes pee pee or poo poo in the potty is to watch "Y" (Super Why) on Daddy's iPad.  He'll occasionally switch over to the Bible videos done by the church to watch Jesus or play a game of angry birds or temple run, but Super Why is his favorite.

Spots

Last Friday I was at volleyball and Cade seemed really lethargic.  He had a fever and just wanted to sleep but I chalked that up to the fact that his canines are coming in and since he seemed to be fine after his nap I didn't worry about it. 

Saturday he started getting some weird looking bumps all over his body.  I had just changed laundry detergent and wondered if he was having a reaction to that.  Sunday the bumps were looking even worse and so I asked my Uncle (who's a podiatrist, but hey, he had to go to med school) what he thought it was.

His verdict?

Chickenpox.

Me, "No way.  He was vaccinated.  A year ago.  He hasn't been itchy or anything." (that's what I remember most about the chickenpox, was the itching.  The constant itching.  That and scratching scabs off my head once the pox started healing.  Is that tmi?)

Monday Jackson starts acting really whiny and feverish.  Crap.  It is the chickenpox, because no way does an allergic reaction spread.  Poor Jackson too.  He's due for his chickenpox immunization when he turns one, which happens to be in three weeks.

Tuesday, up pop little spots all over Jack Jack.  Poor baby.  He's been so miserable, wanting to be held all the time, but at the same time wanting to walk everywhere.  He still has places to go and people to see and things to eat.

On the bright side?  One less shot that Jackson needs.

Deep Down

I have so many blog posts that I've started and never finished.  I think it's because I have this deep down fear that if I start to confess something that I know is true about myself, then I'll have to acknowledge that I have the weakness.

So I don't really talk about it.  I tell Aaron the fluff stuff.  Problems with body image.  Things like that.  Stuff that almost every woman struggles with and can relate to.  But it's never "me" stuff.  Things that me, Rachelle, as a human being, specifically struggle with because of the way I am.  Not because of how society has made me feel.

I had to live up to one of those weaknesses this last weekend. 

It was hard.

Hard to say it, and even harder to think it.  To think through all the ramifications of the weakness.  To see where it has brought me, and how it affects me every day, even though I don't want to admit it. 

Even harder than realizing the weakness, was realizing that I still didn't think it needed to be fixed.  And I didn't want to fix it.

So this week, I'm praying to want to want to change. 

La Cucaracha

Unfortunately, where we live we have a bit of a...

shall we say, cockroach problem.

Cade wanders around the house looking for them.

When he finds one, he comes to me, "Mommy!! Bee! (bee means bug, all bugs are bees)"

We then have to go to the bathroom, grab some toilet paper and then off we go. 

Cade stoops down, picks up the cockroach with the toilet paper (he would do it without, but I insist on cleanliness), examines it closely, and then we walk to the bathroom again.

He throws the cockroach into the toilet, we flush it, and before we can shut the lid, we must wave goodbye to our sacrifice.  "Bee, bye bye.  Bye bye bee."

Thank goodness he's not afraid of them.

Fail

We've been water ballooning fiends over here. 

Jackson squeals in pure joy when you hand him one.  Then he mauls it until it pops, looks up with a shocked face, grunts "Uh uh" and begs for more.

Cade's favorite way to play with one is to have me poke a small hole in it, then he can squirt it all around until the water's gone. 

One time I didn't have my trusty pin.  So I thought to myself, "I'll just bite it."

You can already see where this story is going.  Too bad I didn't at the time.

Wet hair.  Water up my nose and in my eyes. 

The best part?  Cade's face.


"Uh oh!"  "Wet"  "Mommy wet!"