on blueberry hill

"Little Bear and his mother and Little Sal and her mother were all mixed up with each other among the blueberries on blueberry hill."

Remember Blueberries for Sal by Robert McClusky?  Oh how I love that book.  

My cousin-sisters visited again this summer.  We had 8 kids between us, and although it doesn't sound like a lot, it was a lot.  Once again, all the mamas and all the kiddos mixed up with each other and with margaritas in hand, we generally tried to keep tantrums at bay, naps taken, children fed, and memories made.  

We started with a trip to JaKo Farms, where Farmer Nick put us in the back of his van, then let us out to introduce us to our future meals.

Don't be so scared, kitty, we won't be eating you!

berry picking!  warm, squooshy, juicy.  yum.

At first the hogs were tentative and then we all became friends and they got mixed up in the jumble of kids and mamas too.  

If you live in the area and haven't yet started, you need to start purchasing your meat at www.jakoinc.com.The animals there have an awesome life, and Ryan says the meat is delicious.  They sell cheese and milk and homebaked goods and all kinds of other stuff too.

Picnic on the porch, which was followed by a good hosing off in the dairy barn.

Later, it was movie night on the lawn...

Mary Poppins.  Chim-chiminy.  Good times.

And leave it to the aunties to bring fun things like egg hunts, crafts, and sparklers.  As if things aren't crazy enough around here, let's hand the children some fire.

We managed a total of one adult conversation - pieced together over 2 days of 1 minute intervals.  

But I love how big and jumbled up we all get when we're together.  This is family.

TMI #1

Your official warning.....this might be Too Much Information.  This will probably be TMI.  You don't have to read it.  I won't take it personally.

Ha.  Now I bet you really will read it.  Oooooh what fascinating, gross, personal thing is she going to post?!

All posts are better with pictures, and this one is about legs, so let's start by saying that these maxi skirts from Target are my new obsession.  They are fabulous!!!  My new uniform for all of life.

Ok, here we go...

I've had a vericose vein running down the back of my leg since I got pregnant with the Chachi Band 8 years ago.  It gets bigger and greener and longer and more obvious every time I spin in front of the full length mirror (which isn't that often since the only one is in River's room).  My whole leg hurts like it did when I would wake up in the night with growing pains at age 12.  Both legs feel heavy.

I don't own a single pair of shorts or a skirt that goes above mid-calf because I don't love the way my leg looks.  I do go to the pool and wear a swimsuit with pride.  That feels different somehow...  

Like I'm doing a service to womankind - blowing it wide open that I have cellulite and thickness in places I wish I didn't, just like everyone else.  But guess what?!  I have a big ugly green vein too!  So yay - feel good about yourself in your suit.  At least you don't have that...

And also proving that nothing can keep me from the water I love so much.

Waiting until we're done having children seemed like a reasonable plan, thinking it will continue to get worse with each pregnancy.  But I just can't (and stamp-my-foot-just-don't-want-to) wait any longer.

Today was appointment #2 to get it fixed.  I get to go to a place called Surgical Arts.  So glam!  The people that work there are pretty and they smell good and they treat me like a millionaire.  Today's appointment was for an hour-long ultra-sound on my legs.  Here's how it went.....

I arrived early so I could chat with the pretty ladies up front and sip my Starbucks green tea frappucino. These pretty ladies missed THREE chances - once when I made the appointment, once when they called to remind me of the appointment, and once when I checked in for the appointment - to tell me some VERY IMPORTANT INFORMATION...The ultrasound tech happens to be...

my age
super hot
a man

McHotty told me to go change into these blue hospital-grade plastic/paper shorts.  SHORTS?!  Well, I haven't worn those since 2001, but I guess because you asked soooooo nicely.

Then McHotty told me to just make myself at home and get comfortable on the table/chair/thing.  Then he took out a scissors.  Wait, no, you're not really going to, you wouldn't, no, seriously....oh yes you are, you're going to cut my shorts.  All the way up to my hip.

Then surely you're not going to, no, this is about legs, this is not about girly parts, you're not, you wouldn't....oh yes you are, you're going to tuck my shorts into my underwear.  NO ONE TOLD ME TO WEAR PRETTY UNDERWEAR!?!  You know that thing about wear clean pretty underwear in case you're ever in a car accident?  You would think that after 4 car accidents in my life, I would've learned my lesson.  But no.  Not that these were ugly, but they were at least 3 years old.  Faded.  Stretched out.  Polka dots.

Then McHotty proceeds to pour warm gel all over my legs and thighs and ever-so-near my girly parts and rub the probe over them for the next HOUR.  All while talking about back when our high school football teams played each other.  Its like Grey's Anatomy meets a bad porno.

He assured me that he'll be part of every one of the four surgical procedures it will take to fix this.  Grrreeeeeaat.

I've always said that pride was over-rated.  I repeated it aloud in front of the mirror in the changing room before and after the whole debacle.  And I meant it even more after.  We all have things we wish were different about this skin we're in.  I'm going to take care of mine, and because this life is just too short, I'm going to consider myself super lucky to have McHotty along for the ride.

Let's go ahead and name this post TMI #1 because its a sure thing there will be a #2 and #3.  Tune in next week for a brand new episode.

Do you think they make gf Olive Garden breadsticks?

Eva has been eating gluten-free for 2 weeks now, and the change is insane.  Ridiculous.  That big.

She has had 2 stomach aches in 14 days and not a single dose of mirelax.  And most remarkable of all, her outlook on life is different.  There are much fewer tears, zero tantrums (zero in two weeks.  as unheard of as our cat flying), she only yells a normal amount when her brother pesters her.  She laughs more easily.  She takes a joke from her dad.  Often, she says "ok" when we ask her to do something.  She is just clearly happier.  I've ached to see her have a more optimistic outlook on life.  Ached.  And here it is. 

I recognize that because it was Ryan and I that put together a sperm and an egg, it is impossible for our children to be "normal".  I would be horridly disappointed if they were.  But if they could at least like life, they could enjoy their uniqueness instead of fight it.  To feel like we have a glimpse of that now has made the whole world sunnier.

My drama is this....

* getting over the stupid mom guilt for not trying this years ago.

* trying to stay upbeat and not mention Olive Garden breadsticks - to her or myself.

* overwhelmed with all this info.  A lot of it is scientific.  I passed any and all science classes in high school and college on charm alone.

* GF stuff is expensive.  Great.

* Focusing not on Olive Garden breadsticks.

* Just plain trying to put on my big girl panties about the whole life change.
* Still wondering if we're barking up the wrong tree and her test will come back "normal"

* Not thinking about Olive Garden breadsticks.

I needed an education, so I called in the troops.  Looked up people I know that go gluten-free in their home and had them bring over a snack and their brains.  I supplied the wine and took 7 pages of notes.

Earlier in the evening, the Chachi Band declared "Now, tonight is all about me."  Ah yes, my lady, I'm glad to know some things don't change.  

She barely said a word the whole evening, but played with her doll, the train track, and sat with her legs crossed pretending to read books - never leaving the room.  I think she felt as overwhelmed as I did and because she's only 7, she got to express it this way.  While I got to express my anxiety by taking copious notes.  And craving Olive Garden breadsticks.

                       

I hope that what she felt was happy.  Happy to be surrounded by amazing women who claim the same disease that she does.  Happy to be hearing what she CAN eat.  I felt wrapped up in encouragement.  And I think she did too.

Tonight we had BLTs.  (insert here a small O over how much I love BLTs with real garden tomatoes) Her "bread" was a gluten-free waffle, and she declared it the best sandwich she had ever had in her entire life. Y to the A to the Y!!!!!

We can do this.  One day at a time.  We can do this.

But do you think you could maybe go get me some Olive Garden breadsticks?

Favorite Things #5

Basil deserves a FAVORITE THINGS post all of its own.

Heaven tastes like basil.  

Have you made these recipes yet?  Do.it. Do it.  Do-to-the-it.

Basil Lemonade

Basil Pesto

Pesto-Quinoa Quiche

Fresh Veggie Pizza

Grilled Summer Pizza

Spinach Tortellini Soup

Thin Crust Pesto Pizza

Herb Butter

Tomato Bisque

Click on the RECIPES page for links to them all.  

And, bonus....if you live in H-Town and need some basil, come on over and pick.  

We have 9 plants.  You don't have to knock - just head out back to the garden and help yourself.  

Really - heaven is for sharing!

Home

Every year, when I was zero to eight years old, I watched the Kalona Days parade from my front yard on B Avenue.

Last weekend, when we were in Iowa, I did it again.  With my kids scrambling for the candy.  Cue tingles.  Oh Full Circle, how happy you make me.

Home.  

learning to ride bike

building tents out of blankets on the porch

popcorn on the porch on Sunday afternoons

leaf raking on that lawn

spankings on the stairs inside that back door

cicadas singing me to sleep 

sitting in front of the window air conditioner on hot days

my desk inside that side window

easter egg hunts

taming our cat in the garage

the for sale sign in the front lawn

the sold sign above it

Home is family and a feeling.  

Home is also a house.

I miss it.  And I miss my childhood.  Its all mixed up together in one messy bundle of longing and memories and peace and sadness and simplicity and love and family and smells and time.

The creek that runs alongside the house.  

I immediately stepped up on the first level of cement and spit over the edge.  Without even thinking.  Some things time does not change.

And some things, time does change.

Blessed be.

Iowa

We spent the weekend in rural Iowa to celebrate our nanny, JoJo's, wedding.  

SUCH a good time.  The day before we left was an angry angry day for me.  I was so sick and tired of our totally wretched children.  Sick of the fighting and the attitudes and the always asking for one more thing, one more thing, one more thing, one more thing.  I suggested a trip to the waterpark instead of supper because its generally impossible for us to be quite so horrid when we're wet, spread out, and around other people.  But I was still so steaming by the time we got there, that I ditched them all and went for some retail therapy while they swam.  I returned with a new black sundress (my new uniform.  Yay!!), some dried fruit/nut mix, and a better attitude.  Needless to say, getting out of town was exactly what the doctor ordered.

The cornfields, rolling hills, great company, and beautiful wedding truly felt like a vacation.  In Iowa, everyone feels like family.  At least those in our small bubble of a weekend did.  

Tyson and Rachel "shared" JoJo with us this year.  So River, Oliver, and Sage became like siblings. 

Oh how they love their JoJo...

and each other...

never too young to hug a tree

 oh my word, just look at her!

 just a few more...I can't stop...

Rachel's family put us up in this amazing room above their garage.  The pics don't do it justice, of course...

Antiques from an old school house.  Love.  Ryan liked the Dick and Jane books because every single one sounds naughty when you read it out loud.

And it came with a Keurig.  Va-to-the-kay-to-the-shun.

And best of all, it came with a Grandma for the kiddos....

Ok, just a few more...

On June 16, 1984 I was a flower girl in Sam and Cindy's wedding.  Pretty much the highlight of my childhood.  (A child who doesn't get out much plus a beautiful wedding plus a vivid imagination equals the heavens opening and angels singing as this 5 year old glides down the aisle.)  Now, on June 16, my girlie was a flower girl in the same church.  It makes me tingle when things go full circle like that.  Truly tingle.  And what a treat to see Sam and Cindy.  They fed us and we looked at wedding pictures, and they sent us home with a bottle of home-brewed wine.  This life, these friends...it is good!!

River pulled Sage and Oliver in a wagon down the aisle in the wedding.  

Pictures were at 1 pm, so as you can see, the kids were alert and ready...

But ready or not, it was picture time.  

So they put their clothes and their cheerful selves on and posed like pros.

L.o.v.e.

It was a simple, gorgeous wedding for simple, gorgeous people.  What an honor to be included.

 The whole family is in much better spirits now.  Especially the mama.  We really need to get out of town more often.  Really.

Pesto-Quinoa Quiche

1988?  Is that you?!!

In the middle of this clustery June, we had a garage sale with friends.  I was a garage-sale-hosting-virgin.  I might do it again and I might not.  More on that another day.  Eva came away with this sweeeeeeet wallet.  Its neon orange and green and yellow and pink inside, with lots of velcro pockets.  I asked her if I could have it because it makes me feel 12 years old again.  Just the feel and sound of it make me want to ride my bike to the grocery store to spend my allowance on cheese puffs and Clearly Canadians.  As you can see, she loves it and is not willing to share. 

I could not get a good picture of this quiche.  It doesn't look that great.  But we are quiche freaks, and it is our favorite quiche EVER.  Some of you are making pesto from your gardens right now......make this quiche!  (Just seeing how many times I can print that word.  I do so love it.)

Pesto-Quinoa Quiche

1 frozen pie crust

1 c. shredded cheese (grab whatever kind from your fridge)

1 c. water

1/2 c. uncooked quinoa (red, brown, whatever)

1/4 c. pesto

1/4 c. chopped pecans (optional)

1 box forzen chopped spinach, thawed and drained

1 1/4 c. grated parmesean

4 eggs

1 1/2 c. milk (best not to use skim, but anything else will do)

1/4 tsp. salt

1/8 tsp. black pepper

small handful of basil leaves

Press the crust into a round pie pan.  Bake it for 10 minutes at 425 degrees, and then remove it from the oven.  Reduce heat to 350 degrees.  Sprinkle the 1 c. shredded cheese into the crust.  

Heat the 1 c. water to boiling.  Stir in the quinoa and reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer for 15 minutes.  Then, remove from heat and fluff with a fork.

Stir the pesto, nuts, spinach, and 1 c. of the parmesean into the quinoa.  In a separate bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, salt and pepper.  Combine these two mixtures together.  Pour into the pie crust. Sprinkle with the remaining parmesean.

Bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes.  Top it with the basil leaves and let it stand 10 minutes before serving.

There's usually enough filling left over to fill about 5 muffin cups.  We make those and bake them a bit shorter than the quiche - they make awesome breakfasts on the go.  And that's how we made Eva's gluten-free.

Looks like a lot of work, but its really not.  And its deeee-lish.

In other news...

When you deprive your children of tv and then turn it on, this is what happens.  

They miiiiight have been this way a good 20 minutes before I noticed. 

Jessica (our optometrist), pretend you didn't see this.