Yet more evidence that I have way too much time on my hands on the weekends

I have not done much cooking in the last 8 months or so. In the first place, there is usually just me to eat meals and I haven't had the greatest appetite. My boys eat nothing but eggs, mac and cheese, ham sandwiches or steak (because that is 'Dad's favorite food.") I usually find myself making them whatever they will eat and just pick at stuff on the side. When I do cook, I have found that I am only ever craving one thing: Curry! Anyone who has been to dinner at my house recently will probably remember that that is also the only thing that has been served. I make a big batch of whichever curry recipe I am craving most and it lasts for my meals for the next several days. After about 5 months of only ever thinking the same thing over and over sounded good, I wondered if there was a reason. I remember hearing that pregnant women often crave things their body needs at the moment and thought there might be a parallel. Because I am a research nerd, I hit the internet and it turns out that the turmeric in curry is a natural antidepressant. I have most definitely been craving antidepressants! In addition, it is supposed to soothe the digestive system, and I have had constant stomachaches since I got this new stress in my life. It's crazy how your body can tell you what it needs. I am going to listen better the next time it's telling me I am wanting chocolate and diet coke.

In the spirit of eating happy, I thought I would share my favorites with you so you too can legitimately use food to self medicate!

Chicken Satay

• 2 tablespoons creamy peanut butter
• 1/2 cup soy sauce
• 1/2 cup lemon or lime juice
• 1 tablespoon brown sugar
• 2 tablespoons curry powder
• 2 cloves garlic, chopped
• 1 teaspoon hot pepper sauce
• 6 skinless, boneless chicken breast halves -sliced lengthwise
  

Directions

1. In a mixing bowl, combine peanut butter, soy sauce, lime juice, brown sugar, curry powder, garlic and hot pepper sauce. Place the chicken breasts in the marinade and refrigerate. Let the chicken marinate at least 2 hours, overnight is best.
2. Preheat a grill to high heat.
3. Grill until done, brushing each side with the marinade as you turn the chicken.
   

Curry Coconut Chicken (my ultimate comfort recipe)

If you happen to have a cooking range on your outside grill, it is a good idea to cook this one outside to keep your house from smelling like curry for days. Also, this meal is is a good food storage recipe as long as you substitute canned chicken for fresh.

Ingredients

• 2 pounds boneless skinless chicken breasts, cut into 1/2-inch chunks
• 1 teaspoon salt and pepper, or to taste
• 1 1/2 tablespoons vegetable oil
• 2 tablespoons curry powder
• 1/2 onion, thinly sliced
• 2 cloves garlic, crushed
• 1 (14 ounce) can coconut milk
• 1 (14.5 ounce) can stewed, diced tomatoes
• 1 (8 ounce) can tomato sauce
• 3 tablespoons sugar

Directions

1. Season chicken pieces with salt and pepper.
2. Heat oil and curry powder in a large skillet over medium-high heat for two minutes. Stir in onions and garlic, and cook 1 minute more. Add chicken, tossing lightly to coat with curry oil. Reduce heat to medium, and cook for 7 to 10 minutes, or until chicken is no longer pink in center and juices run clear.
3. Pour coconut milk, tomatoes, tomato sauce, and sugar into the pan, and stir to combine. Cover and simmer, stirring occasionally, approximately 30 to 40 minutes.

Cinnamon Curry Chicken Soup

This one is technically an HCG recipe, which makes it fairly light on ingredients. Add veggies as you will...

• 3 Chicken Breasts, cubed.
• One diced onion
• 4 cups chicken broth
• 1 tsp curry powder
• 1/2 tsp cinnamon
• 1/2 tsp pumpkin pie spice
• salt/pepper to taste

1. Combine all ingredients
2. Bring to a boil
3. Reduce heat and simmer for 45 minutes

almost worth the trouble

What do people do with large furniture boxes when they don't have kids who want to decorate and move into them? The boys had so much fun making forts this afternoon that it almost made up for the fact that I have to figure out how to dispose of two enormous boxes.

This picture of Sis is unrelated. She didn't get to build a fort, but she did figure out the points of entry for the gate I put up and spends a lot of time hanging around them, hoping to slip past me. She is undoubtedly trying to dive head first down the stairs like the boys did when they were little. I also just think she is gorgeous and I like to show her off.

A lot!

Speaking of unrelated news, I have managed to kill off both the hermit crabs that Junior got for his birthday. They did so little, he still hasn't noticed. He has however, begun begging for a Venus Fly Trap. He draws pictures about them, asks questions, wants to look them up on the internet and requests tooth brush stories that involve them (seriously). So, knowing Junior and his level of obsession once he gets his teeth into something, I know this subject is not going anywhere soon. As much I don't really want a carnivorous plant around the house, I have a healthy respect for the inquiring mind and am considering getting him one. There is a good chance that he will lose interest after he sees that the plant doesn't lunge to grab insects out of mid-air or chomp them with its "teeth." I have little doubt that when it comes down to it, I will have no trouble killing it off like I have with the rest of my household plants. If anyone has any insight or experience with bug eating plants, speak now (please!) I suppose I could always replace the boring hermit crabs!

Baby Steps

This week has been a flat out failure. On the one hand, I am getting the laundry and dishes done (kind of), kids are getting dressed and fed and I am usually showered before noon. However, I have been in a rotten mood. I have been a less than present mom and haven't been able to seem to pull out of it. Junior has been on an extra 'dad-kick' for the last few weeks, which is great except that all we get to talk about is what day it is and how many more days, hours, minutes etc. until he can be with dad. I know where it is coming from and I know he misses J, but to be honest, I'm having a harder time competing with the "all dad, all the time" attention they get when they are with him. I'm grateful that he is so focused on them on his visitation days, but it makes normal parenting at home so much harder. Following every visit is some amount of 'behavior boot camp.' To be fair, J doesn't let the kids get away with anything discipline-wise, but being with him is still such a weekly novelty to them, home just doesn't compare and Junior has done his best to make sure I know it. This week, I have had a hard time not being irritated at having to be "no fun." Last night I received a strongly worded (phonetically spelled) letter on my pillow from Junior that informed me that when I got after him earlier in the day, it hurt his feelings. It about broke my heart as well as my resolve to get out of bed this morning. Bubba, in an extreme shift to the opposite direction, has gotten very clingy with me and worries if he has to be away from me for long. I made all his worst nightmares come true last night when I accidentally left him in the dark garage. I thought he went into the house with Junior when he had actually climbed into the front seat and I didn't see him. I closed the car doors, carried the baby in and turned off the light. A few minutes later, I heard terrified screams coming from the garage. He had finally found the door handle in the dark and made his way out of the car, but was too scared to go further. He was inconsolable for quite awhile and quick to point out that it was just like his dreams, which all involve being left alone by me or J in the dark. I felt like mother of the year. It has really been a 'mom-fail' week and I feel so much extra guilt now when I know they are getting less than my best. I know about the statistics that in the long run I am more likely to have a healthy relationship with my kids, but the short run stuff really bites sometimes. It's easy to feel like a failure all around.

Another particular struggle for me this week is my tendency to worry about things that are way too far ahead (something I have been strongly encouraged not to do in therapy) and freaking myself out. I'm angry that when J walked out the door he took with him the one chance I had at having a marriage and children that were not fragmented by custody issues and visitation schedules. He promised me forever and only gave me eight years. Eight years and three children and enough baggage to make moving on incredibly difficult. Over the last decade, I have been grateful more than once that I was through with dating. Now, I either have the choice to be alone, or sort through the amazing amount of emotional garbage involved in trusting anyone again. It sounds hard and exhausting and I can't seem to quit worrying about it even when I tell myself that it is pointless. It's weeks like this that make me feel like I am going to be some level of miserable forever because I have already forgotten how it felt to have the 'normal' problems of life. Eight years ago, I took a chance on a man I loved to always put our family first. It backfired and now I am facing being "back out there" and I'm really angry about that. So, this whole week has been a mental hissy fit and I have taken lots of naps just to try to turn my brain off. Somewhere out there, I imagine God is rubbing his forehead and muttering "I really wish she would grow out of this phase." (Incidentally, I think terrible twos/threes just might be a divine form of payback, but that's another post for another time...)

We had a speaker on Sunday who told a story about a wife whose husband fell critically ill shortly after they were married. As he became terminal and the end was close, she spent one night at his bedside crying out loud to God to fix this, to give her a miracle, to heal her husband. It was her barely conscious, pain wracked husband who stopped her and asked her to "just pray that he could sleep through the night." I noted this story but it didn't particularly speak to me at the time. That might have been because I was pinning down a newly mobile Sis, while threatening Bubba with a time out if he didn't stop the fit he was throwing (knowing very well I couldn't back up that threat unless I dragged the other two kids out of Sacrament meeting as well). But I remembered the story tonight as I was on the treadmill. I had taken a running hiatus for the last month or two, but got back on it tonight hoping that exercise would lift some of my extra depression this week. I forgot how good running has been for me. It reminds me to breathe deeply. I spend so much of my time mentally crouching down and waiting for the next blow to fall, that I find myself forgetting to do many of the basics like taking full breaths.

I told myself I would just start with a mile. A mile was something I knew I could do and I gave myself permission to stop there if I needed to. As I ran, I found I could go a little further and a little further. One mile stretched into three and I feel certain that setting the small goal and going further did more for me than if I had overwhelmed myself by determining to go that far and knowing that I would feel like a failure if I didn't hit my goal. Around mile #2, Sunday's story popped into my mind and it felt like being mentally smacked upside the head. Sometimes it is enough just to hope to get through the night. It's ok to start with just a mile. If you can go further, great. If not, it is still a step along the road. Shooting for the stars is well and good when you are in a healthy mental state, but when you are scared, sad, tired, frustrated or broken, baby steps are not only ok, they are a triumph. I won't get credit for getting out of bed and showered before noon forever, but I need to try to give myself credit for what I CAN do right now, not what I think I SHOULD do (or used to do).

My world was an ordered place and now it is not. I am not a neat freak, but I really like to plan. I like to know what is coming up and what to expect. So, this situation is harder for me than I could ever imagine. My future is a blank. I have already seen so much 'worst case scenario' that I have a hard time being confident in anything except that there are more trials ahead. I don't trust the good stuff yet. Anything could happen and that terrifies me. But I know I can't waste my limited energy worrying about what is five years ahead. I thought I knew five years ago where I would (basically) be today and look how my plans have changed. Losing control is terrifying but there is something comforting in feeling like I can let the scary future go and just concentrate on that next step. Concentrate on getting through one more night. I have to worry less about the road I have been put on and just focus on which way I'm going, what the next step is and how I am going to go about taking it.

So, getting through tonight is the next thing on my agenda. If I can stay asleep the whole night, I will see that for the triumph it is. If not, I will know my feet are still pointed in the right direction and I am only ever required to take it one step at a time.

This little piggy has piggies!

Sis's newborn hair never did fall out, so now she has all these long pieces and new hair growing underneath. It's been funky looking for a little while, but I can't bring myself to cut it and wouldn't have a clue where to start. I was playing with it yesterday and we ended up with two little piggie tails. As you can see, they stand straight up and look more like antennae than hair, but the boys got a huge kick out of it, so I left it in. J even took her out in public looking like this :-) Today, Junior wanted to have her hair in one pony tail on the top a la Pebbles Flintstone. It made her look like she came straight from Whoville.


Since she needs all four appendages to crawl and to shake the bars of 'baby prison' (or as I prefer to think of it, her own 'gated community') she has learned to pop things in her mouth to bring them along. I tried hard to get this headband out of her mouth, but no dice. I finally conceded. She deserved to win that one.

Junior and Bubba 'helping' with her Who-style hairdo. Have you ever seen a look that more plainly begged for help?

habits my kids wont allow me to break

As a parent, has anyone ever developed a quirk or habit that your children grew to love (and you quickly grew to hate?) I have lots in my limited experience as a parent and some we have grown out of and some we have not. I have acquired a new one though. Tooth brush stories. One night I told a story to Bubba as I was helping him brush his teeth to get him to hold still and then Junior wanted one. And then they both wanted one the next night, and the next and at the rate of enthusiasm I am getting, I expect to have to do this until they leave for college. On the one hand, it is a good thing because they don't let me get lazy and skip tooth brushing, but on the other hand, I am a miserable story teller. Truly miserable. I remember long ago when I lived with my sister, I would help put her two year old to bed sometimes. On one occasion, we sat in the dark and I tried to make up a story to tell her. It went so badly that I finally ended up starting over with "A long time ago, God made the earth and when he did that he put animals on it. He put lions and tigers and whales and fish and etc. etc. etc." She finally fell asleep out of sheer boredom. I thought I might grow into story telling as a parent, but I still stink at it. We have been doing this for weeks and I have yet to get by a single night without having to make up something dumb. I'm not even sure why they still ask. I guess it is because I give what they consider a gem every now and then. I can tell when I am below par though because as Junior drifts off afterward toward his room, he will say "remember that really good one you told about how the gummy bear grew big and ate me?" or "I really liked the one about the sugar bugs (plaque) on my teeth and they had hammers and made holes until I brushed them away..." I suppose even a blind squirrel finds a nut occasionally.

Bubba is far less discerning. Mostly I just have to make up something about him growing wings or turning into a monkey (not far off these days). But I panic a little every time we troop upstairs to attend to our dental needs. You have no idea of the amount of pressure! Once I tried to make a really boring story more interesting by singing it, but even Bubba wasn't fooled. Junior smiled gamely and tentatively asked "can we do a different one?" J is a fantastic story teller. I do not have his talent, but I would be thrilled if one of the kids inherited it because when I am old and crazy, I am going to make them tell stories to me in order to make me brush my teeth.

Sometimes, when we have had a rough day, I try to weave a moral into it, such as the benefits of listening to your mother or not hitting your brother. But I'm finding that mostly they just want fictional versions of them being chased or eaten by something and I am running out of plots. I could recycle the same few for Bubba for awhile, but Junior is more astute than that.

Clearly my kids realize what a sucker I am. I remember how long the 'putting Bubba to bed' song and dance lasted and realize with no small amount of horror that I could be doing this for years!! I can be animated, but not that imaginative. My creative talents are purely impressionistic. So if anyone has any plot ideas for two minute stories, let me know. They must be thrilling, there must be some element of magic or danger and they must feature a boy named either Junior or Bubba. Try not to make them too funny though, because I have had toothpaste spit on me more than once as a reward for my humor. Thanks.
Even Sis knows how to work me. I usually carry her to the kitchen with me to prepare her bottle in the middle of the night and one night she was particularly fussy. I rocked her back and forth on my hip to soothe her while we waited for the tap water to run warm (far too long a process in this house. You would think our water heater was a block away.) She liked it so much, she has insisted on it every night since. If I don't, she kicks her legs with far more enthusiasm than I can handle in the middle of the night and while under the influence of Ambien. Every night sees me swaying back and forth in the kitchen like a drunkard at 3 a.m. while she squeals and I try to keep my balance. Like I said...sucker!

So my kids work me like crazy. They know the effect of a sincere look and a heartfelt "please?" (or in Sis's case, the effectiveness of being kicked into submission). I suppose it could be worse. They could be hitting me up for money. Although I am pretty close to offering that instead of stories these days. I am getting that desperate.

Perchance to dream...?

I had a dream last night. It was not a good one, but they seldom are these days. In my dream, I had just my boys and we needed to get from one city to the next. A flood was coming and we had to cross roads that would suddenly get washed out by walls of water. We had to cross suspension bridges where the cables would start to twist and snap free. I was terrified and I wasn't sure how I would get myself, much less my children to safety. I wish I could say something in the dream resolved itself, but all I can tell you is that by the time I woke up to the pitter patter of little Bubba feet on his nightly foray into my room, none of us had been lost yet. I also remember being fervently grateful that I did not have to worry about getting my baby to safety along with my boys. Wherever she was in my subconscious, I knew she was okay.

Although I have not done any of those things, the dream and the feelings associated felt awfully familiar. It seems like the most unfair thing to go through a nightmare in my waking hours only to fall asleep and be tormented there too. I have had a lot of these kinds of dreams over the last eight months. I recall during the first nightmarish days of my crisis, while I was still desperately trying to hold my family together, I dreamed of being washed away by water down into a big drainpipe. At the last minute I caught myself on the edge, just enough to keep myself from going under but not enough to pull myself out. I felt like right then I had a choice. I could hold on for an indeterminate amount of time and hope for help. Or I could simply let go. Let it all go and just wash away. I remember deciding to hang on, but I was still horrified at the sheer temptation to give up. It was not an easy decision, dream or not.

Bubba always goes to sleep in his own bed and wakes up in mine. Without fail, at some point in the night, he wakes up afraid and makes his way into my room to crawl in on the "boy side." Half the time I wake up in the morning there without having heard him come in. Other times, he needs to wake me up and be reassured through being held that he is okay. He tells me he is scared.

I know how he feels.

"Does the idea of being physically responsible for the safety of all of us ever freak you out?" I asked J once after I had watched one too many episodes of Unsolved Mysteries. As I expected, it did not. He was brave about that kind of thing. Having been the victims of a home invasion early in our early marriage, I knew it could happen again. I remember thinking at the time that I was glad that if someone did so, it would not be me going after them with a baseball bat. Ironically, the bat now resides under my side of the bed (along with my cell phone on the bedside table) and the burden of keeping our home safe rests with me. This realization has prompted more than one nightmare.

I feel so inadequate and my dream last night was very apt. I have had this dream before, just different scenarios. Getting me and my children to "safety" feels like a task I am not sure I can do on my own. I know what I need to do, I know what my choice is and I know that others have successfully done it before me. But I also know that I am starting from a damaged place and I don't get any do-overs. It was daunting being a parent before, but helping heal my children and myself and get us all safely beyond this crisis feels about as scary as getting my children safely beyond the "flood."

I had no real idea how this would affect us. I had no idea I would have to watch my children change and become, by turns, fearful or obstinate or violent or depressed or just shut down depending on how they are choosing to cope at the time. And the worst part is that I can't always reach them. All I can consistently do is be as safe a place as I can. As in my dream, I remain grateful in a way that my youngest is beyond being hurt in the ways that the boys are. This will always be her world. As young as they are, my boys know it isn't as theirs should be. They know the difference. I am dedicated to doing whatever my kids need to get through this, and aside from the obvious solution, J is too. But some days it doesn't feel like any of us are making any headway. I know I need to be as consistent as possible for them, but that is easier said than done by 5 p.m. and all I want is the cavalry to show up and I still have bedtime to get through. Some signs of distress are painfully obvious and other times it is hard to pick out what is them just being kids and what is a result of fear and confusion. I am doing my research and addressing the obvious things, but I am also afraid of missing the more subtle things, or doing it "wrong." What I want is what is best for them, but how do I know? Is it better to keep to our same routine for stability on a week like this where a trip has kept J from them for a whole week? Or do I allow extra time with him out of "my time" because they need to see their dad? Every day I'm reminded that parenting was never meant to be a one person job. That's probably why it requires two people to make it happen :-) Also, not to put too fine a point on it, parenting like this sucks. It really does. And I know that now at least, my kids don't prefer being parented this way either. I want them to feel safe. I want them to feel secure. I want them to know they are loved. I don't have confidence right now that they feel any of these things for sure at the moment.

And selfishly, I miss the feeling that I am something other than a mom. My children are everything to me, but after a day of giving, soothing, loving and mothering, I put them in bed and have a hard time being able to nurture any of the other aspects of "me." I love being a mom and I would never trade it, but I loved being a wife too and I miss it. Maybe that's why a few nights ago, my subconscious gave me the one good dream I can remember having since last May. In it, J had been gone on a long trip and had just returned. We lounged around on the floor trading things that we had been saving up to tell each other during our time apart. That was it. There was nothing remarkable about it but it was so comfortable in its familiarity. I miss my husband every day, but just as much, I miss living with my friend. As could be expected, it was not fun to wake up from that one, but in a weird way it felt like a break. It felt like going back to a time when I was more than a one dimensional mommy figure getting through the day solely for my children. I could be grateful for that small tender mercy among the more anguished workings of my brain. It's amazing the little things you find you miss. I think I may have taken them for granted much of the time.

My resolve is to try to be more in the moment with my kids. They deserve for me to do more than go through the motions. Some days, I admit, I find that is all I can do and I end the day feeling horribly guilty. But I have no desire to look back and only remember how painful this time was. Junior will only be six once and Bubba three and a half, etc. etc. I have enough regret from all of this bestowed on me to last my lifetime. I'm just terrified of looking back and feeling like I did anything to fail my children when they needed me. Young as they are, I don't expect that this will ruin their lives, but I am alarmed at how they are reacting to the events of the last six months. It hurts to see them hurt. I know that statistically, this situation has the potential to affect how they handle and react in their own future relationships. Come hell or high water (and after last night's dream we have now encountered both :-) we are weathering out this storm together whether we like it or not. I know I won't sleep well until my boys start to. I doubt I will stop having nightmares before they do. I suppose all I can do is hold their hands tightly and get them safely across the bridge and then worry about the next step.

Wish me luck...

Oh, for the love...

I have always loved Valentines Day regardless of my dating/marital status. I don't care if it is a made up holiday in order to get us to buy stuff. There are worse things than a day dedicated to showing a little extra love, commericalized or not. I love the pink and red, I love the chocolate and I love the flowers. I was thrilled to have a school kid this year to help with Valentines to pass out. Some years we celebrated it more than others and ironically, this is admittedly a pretty rough year for me Valentines-wise, but it is not my worst one. That honor goes to several years ago when I made king crab legs and cheese fondue for J and we both ended up puking most of the night. Super sexy!!

Today had great potential to put me into one big emotional temper tantrum and I am too tired for that, so I made a rule for myself. No moping, no dwelling on happier Valentine's Days past and no wishing for what is no possible right now. I got a fantastic day off yesterday and I decided that today needed to be all about the kids. Since I have boys, I get that a lot of the stuff I do for holidays is going to be lost on them, but it's more for me anyway. I get a kick out of it. Since J isn't around to share this stuff with anymore, I'm sharing it with all of you!

Before church, we were all excited to see flowers show up at the door from my cute brother Jeff (I didn't post a picture, because they haven't opened yet. they are going to be gorgeous in a day or so). They joined the pink roses from my mom and dad/boys. Junior was interested in the flowers and wanted to talk about what a flower's enemies are (I told him the main ones are little boys. He liked that.) He was also pleased to tell me that 'Dad told him that what flowers love, absolutely love, more than anything else in the whole world is poop.' I'm guessing it was some discussion about fertilizer, but Junior probably stopped listening at the word poop. Lovely!

After church, we had a Valentine's Day themed meal with (what else) red food. The trusty Bradshaw family was supposed to join us, but they had babies that weren't quite out from being under the weather, so we dined alone (but they were missed. Especially since I have way too many jello jigglers left over :-)

The menu included spaghetti, strawberries, strawberry jello jigglers, strawberry Sunny-D and bread with raspberry honey butter ( I know it looks like cookies but it's not. What kind of mom do you think I am? We might have cookies for breakfast when they are around, but not dinner!)

For all my effort, Bubba ended up eating plain noodles and cheese and a strawberry and Junior only ate his meatballs and then finished off Bubba's. Whatever!

I can always count on Sis to be a good eater.

She was incredibly enthusiastic about the jello.

Valentines day has never come and gone (since Junior could wield a knife with frosting) without sugar cookies. No point in starting now. Besides, we need something for breakfast in the morning.

Each of the boys made me a cookie (and then made me eat it while they watched. I think I am good on sugar for awhile.)

I have to point out the beautiful cake plate my dad gave me. I decided to start collecting them and he is an enthusiastic supporter. The only two I own so far are from him although I did get a cool vintage one off of ebay for my sister's birthday last year that I am still kind of coveting. 'Tis better to give, right? Right. The jeweled picture frames were engineered by J and created by the boys last week.

The holiday this year has been...different, but I am okay. I reflected tonight as I cleaned up cookie decorating detritus, turned off the Veggietales video that has been watched over and over this evening, put away a dinner that no one really ate and smelled my beautiful flowers that today I am more ok than I expected to be. Not because all the crummy stuff isn't still there, but because for today I chose not to acknowledge it. I just tossed a tired, clean, lotiony smelling baby into her bed and every two minutes or so, one of my boys hollers down "I love you mom" (more as a sleep stalling tactic than overwhelming affection, I'm afraid.) I have good things in my life. I haven't lost everything.

I did not spend this Valentines Day the way I thought I would last year, but in getting back to my original joy in the holiday, the absence of a significant other in my life doesn't take away the fact that I still love and feel loved by others on it.

I may not have everything I want and some days that is harder to bear than others. But for now anyway, I have everything I need. And sometimes that's enough.