Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary...

A couple of weeks ago, determined to make a dent in the looming pile of (still!) unpacked boxes, I asked Roo to entertain herself while I went through the boxes and tried to find a new home for each unpacked item (all the while muttering to myself, "Why did I bother to pack THIS??").

Here's what she came up with (yeah, not at all sure why that picture loaded sideways):

She found a package of pipe cleaners in our art supply and the piece of Styrofoam came in the shipment of dishes that arrived last week.  She created a "flower garden."  Lovingly planting each one and watering them with her mini watering can, she declared it "a happy and very magical garden where the fairies come to play."  And, seeing how we currently have 8 inches of snow on the ground in mid-May, I can safely declare that her pipe cleaner garden is the only garden she'll be watering for awhile.

She admired that garden and planted and re-planted the flowers for a couple of hours.  During the midst of my unpacking, I heard Roo crying and using a harsh tone with her little brother.  Coming upon the scene, I asked what was wrong.  Through tears, and clutching a yellow pipe cleaner in her hand, Roo said, "That little boy planted a tulip in my garden of daisies!!  Doesn't he know that this is a magical daisy garden, not a magical tulip garden??" 

Trying my best to take her little brother's offense seriously, I suggested we scavenger another piece of Styrofoam for him to plant his own garden.  That way he could mix tulips and daisies up together to his heart's content. 

Here's Roo putting her flowers in the sunny window so that they can grow.  {And, yes, she is wearing a fleece pullover underneath her dress.  She insists on wearing a dress everyday, be it over her pajamas, her winter coat, or whatever she happens to be wearing that day.  We get some odd looks from passersby, but we don't mind. :) }

{this moment}

{this moment}

hitting life's "pause"  button

no chit-chat

just a single photo

a glimpse

our life, here and now

forever etched in my mind

and in my heart

...inspiration courtesy of SouleMama

Mmmm...Start the day with a little sweetness:

I just wanted to pop on here tonight and share a wonderful recipe for coffee cake that I made for Mother's Day brunch.  It's full of cranberries, orange peel, cream cheese, and it is sooo yummy.  Even my dad and my brother-in-law, who normally don't partake in cranberry dishes, ate second helpings of this.  Of course, lots of sugar and cream cheese will have a tendency to make just about anything palatable. 

My children helped me make this the night before Mother's Day.  While watching me chop up the frozen cranberries, my son said (over and over with the most forlorn expression), "Sad berries.  Berries so sad.  Chop. Chop."  And as my little kitchen helpers sat on the counter top assisting me, I heard myself saying something that probably doesn't fall under the category of typical meal preparation talk: "If it falls on your sock, don't throw it in the mixing bowl." 

I have several old issues of Taste of Home, and this came from one of their recipe contests for coffee cake.  It was tough for me to choose which one to make.  I figured I'd just start with this one (which, by the way, was a runner-up, not even the winning recipe) and work my way down their list.  So, without further ado, here's the rundown:

Creamy Cranberry Coffee Cake

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 cup sugar

1 1/2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp baking soda

1 egg

3/4 cup orange juice

1/4 cup butter, melted

1 tsp vanilla extract

2 cups coarsely chopped cranberries (fresh or frozen)

1 Tbsp grated orange peel

Cream cheese layer:

1 pkg. (8 oz) cream cheese, softened

1/3 cup sugar

1 egg

1 tsp vanilla extract

Topping:

3/4 cup all-purpose flour

1/2 cup sugar

1/2 cup cold butter

In a large bowl, combine first 4 ingredients.  Then combine the egg, orange juice, butter, and vanilla; stir into dry ingredients until well mixed. Fold in cranberries and orange peel. Pour into greased 9-in. springform  pan.

In a small mixing bowl, beat cream cheese and sugar until smooth.  Add egg and vanilla; mix well.  Spread over batter.  Combine the flour and sugar; cut in butter until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs.  Sprinkle over the top.

Place springform pan on a baking sheet and bake @ 350 degrees for about 70 minutes (I checked mine beginning at the 60 minute mark) or until golden brown.  Be sure not to overcook!  Cool on wire rack for 15-30 minutes before removing sides of pan (I didn't remove mine until the next morning -- after it safely made the journey to my parents' house).

My favorite part of this cake is the custard-like layer right there in the middle.  I'm not a fan of dry, crumbly coffee cakes (is anybody?).  There is definitely zero chance of this cake tasting dry or crumbly.  It turned out moist, creamy (with just a bit of crunch from the topping), and had just a hint of tanginess from the cranberries and a light citrus zing from the orange peel.  A perfect balance of flavors.  A must-try for your next brunch or, really, any morning when you need a little motivation to get out of bed and start the day!  If there had been any leftovers from our Mother's Day brunch, I would have raced down to the kitchen the following morning to eat every last morsel.

A Little Something for Me

Happy Sunday, everyone!  Pictured above is a little gift I bestowed on myself for Mother's Day this year.  Sometimes we have to treat ourselves to non-essential, but pretty things, don't we ladies?  I saw this necklace gracing the pages of many blogs lately, and I just knew that it was destined to become my new "everyday" necklace.  A staple in my jewelry wardrobe (other than my wedding rings, of course). 

I love the sentiment stamped on it, "hand holder, dream soother, love giver."  Plus, I'm partial to the word "Mama," the way in which both of my children refer to me.  I honestly feel that wearing this necklace makes me feel more present and aware of some very important components to my "job."  When my son is screaming and crying inconsolably for the third hour in a row, I finger that silver medallion hanging around my neck, and I am reminded to be a "love giver."

I opted for the large link chain instead of the sterling ball chain because I love the flowy openness to it (another visual reminder to stay open and receptive throughout my day).  And I also think the links look like a series of wedding bands: the symbol of never-ending love, a love so deep that there is no distinct beginning or end.  I feel that the unbreakable bond that characterizes a wedding ring is just as easily (if not more so) adapted to the love we mothers have for our children...an eternal love.

I do think that all women have an innate nurturing spirit.  We expend inordinate amounts of energy loving, nurturing, and taking care of the people in our lives -- whether those people are children, husbands, friends, or parents.  So, to me, Mother's Day is a day to celebrate all women and the way we make this world a better place by being in it, taking care of our dear ones and making them feel like the treasures they are.

{this moment}

{this moment}

hitting life's "pause" button

no chit-chat

just a single photo

a glimpse

our life, here and now

forever etched in my mind

and in my heart

...inspiration courtesy of SouleMama

Don't You Think Daisies Are the Friendliest Flower?

I couldn't help but use a line from one of my favorite movies in my post's title today. And I also couldn't agree more: daisies DO look like the friendliest flowers, don't they? Well, they do when they are sprinkled all over a little girl's Easter dress and she's twirling and giggling and dancing with her brother:

They frequently dance together...she calls him her "little prince."

I love the way he's beaming at her in the above photo (and you can't tell, but she's beaming back at him just the same way!)

A bright sunny morning and two siblings that really are best friends...these are the things that warm a mama's soul.

Another close call

{Just a note: if you are a new visitor to my blog, welcome! Just to let you know, I generally go for a more positive vibe around here. The entry for today and the post just previous to this one (regarding my son) are not typical. But, since both incidents were heavily charged emotionally, I found it helpful to add them to my blog. I have always found writing to be a very therapeutic aid, and putting my thoughts down in the written word helps prevent all of those emotions and thoughts from just swirling around endlessly in my head. And, after all, this space is a dedicated spot for recording all the happenings in our life: the good, the bad, the sweet, the sour. But, my plan is (and always has been) to pool the majority of my blogging effort into the happy, joyous, feel-good stuff that fill our days.}

I need a cup of tea to steady my nerves. It is 5:02 am and I feel queasy and so unsettled that I am finding it difficult to choose my words.

We've just suffered another major scare, our second such scare in less than 12 hours. This morning's heart-stopping moment coming on the heels of last night's incident with our son. But, through the queasiness and uncertainty, I can feel God's presence. I am incredibly grateful that He has seen us through another potentially dangerous moment.

I am currently sitting in front of the picture window on the front of our home. I am watching and waiting. Watching the full moon drop slowly behind the mountain range. Watching the dark valley that stretches out before me. Waiting for the sunrise. Waiting to see if the danger has passed. My, were we ever so thankful for the light of a full moon on this early morning.

This is how it all started:

I didn't even crawl into bed until 12:30 am. Still wired and emotional after my son's ordeal. My son woke up fussing 4 times between 12:30 - 3:00 am. After the fourth waking, he asked me to hold his hand while he fell asleep. I obliged. I eventually back to sleep myself, only to wake up again at 3:45 am. This is my husband's rising time. Because of the early hour, he sleeps in a different room so his clock alarm doesn't disturb the children (my 2 little ones and I share the master bedroom). Lying there, semi-awake, I watched for the tell-tale light to go on in the living room so I would know that my husband was up for the day (he has a terrible habit of sleeping through his alarm). I must have fallen back to sleep while I waited, because the next thing I know, it's 4:12 am.

At 4:12 am I was awoken by someone banging on the exterior french doors of the master bedroom. These doors lead to the backyard. At first I thought it was a burglar. But then, I thought, a burglar wouldn't bother to bang on the door first, would he? I got out of bed and walked down the hall to see if my husband was still sleeping (as I fell asleep before I knew whether he had gotten up for work or not). His bedroom was dark and empty. Okay, I reasoned, the person banging on the glass door must be my husband.

As I walked back to the bedroom, the banging on the glass became incessant. Now that I knew it was my husband, I was feeling annoyed by all the noise because I was sure he was going to wake the children. I felt my way through the dark bedroom and pulled back the curtain on the french doors. Relieved to confirm it was, indeed, my husband. He shouted at me through the glass, "Go to the kitchen door!"

So, I made my way through the house toward the kitchen. Before I got there, he was already banging on the kitchen door and frantically jiggling the door handle. Geez, I thought, why is he being so impatient? He usually leaves the house for work by 4:15 am. And that was roughly the time right now, so I didn't understand why he was so frantic.

Before I could completely open the door, he barreled past me. I thought for sure he was being chased by something, and was half expecting to see a mountain lion following close behind my poor husband's heels. He was so worked up he could barely get the words out, "I dumped the ashes from the woodstove into the valley. I think I just started a fire! Holding a bucket in hand, he began to fill it up with water at the kitchen sink. Stunned, I froze for a moment. Then, the distinct smell of fire caught my attention and snapped me out of my daze. He ran past me with the bucket of water and shouted over his shoulder, "Fill up as many pots of water as you can!"

Searching the cupboards for the biggest pot I could find, I started praying out loud, "Please, Lord, save us once again. Please make everything alright. Please help us..." I was shaking, searching fruitlessly for something to fill with water. I found one smallish stock pot and began filling it. I leaned my head out the door and looked toward the valley. Except for the motion light on the garage and the light of the moon, it was pitch black outside. I couldn't even see Mark out there dumping water. But, oh my goodness, the fire smell was strong. In an instant, I thought about our move here, the remodeling we've done, the work we've put in to make this our dream house, and the children sleeping in the bedroom. Mostly I thought about them. They were safe right now, but I had no idea if the smell in the air was a threat to them or not.

Mark made a dozen more trips with the water (why, oh why, haven't we stockpiled jugs of water in case of an emergency like this. And why don't we have a water spigot and hose at the base of our property?). Then, when he was relatively confident it was out, he began to look in earnest for his car keys. Apparently he had them in hand when he dumped the bucket of ashes (by the way, just so you don't think he's an idiot, these ashes were from a fire that burned 2 days ago! So, not fresh hot embers or something obviously dangerous like that). When he saw the embers start igniting the twigs and pine needles in the area, he dropped his keys in a panic. That's why he had to knock on the door to wake me up -- he was locked out of the house and couldn't access any water. Thankfully, the light of the full moon fell upon the keys, laying on the slope of the forest valley, causing a glint of light to catch Mark's eye. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to drive to work (new car, no spare key made yet).

So, now I sit here in the dark, watching the valley, hoping and praying that I will not see an orange glow appear. Obviously, I won't be going back to sleep. That hour and a half of sleep I got will have to get me through the day. I am hearing the wind start to pick up and I desperately hope that it dies down quickly. I have visions of the wind carrying tiny embers deeper into the forest where they will smoulder into fire -- fire I won't see burning until it is too late. Every few minutes I poke my head outside and smell the air, just to be sure I don't smell any smoke.

But, my paranoia about the wind gets the better of me. Still in my pajamas (my bright pink bunny ones -- footed pj's, no less -- I am quite a sight to behold), I slip on my boots (which barely fit over the bunny ears sewn onto each pj foot) and go outside to check for smouldering ashes. However, the motion light going on behind me and the sound of twigs snapping (I'm sure the wind was the culprit) made me scurry back up to the house. So, I will have to wait for the sun to come up. The sun always seems to come up way too early when I'm asleep in my bed. But right now, since I'm anxiously awaiting its arrival, it is taking an eternity. I'm cautiously optimistic, though. I think all is well out there in the forest. For the second time in 12 hours, I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude.