I hate it...no wait, I love it....no wait.....

First, an update on the "crescent rolls": I came out of the bedroom all in a tissy later that morning after unsuccessfully trying to take a nap- children making too much noise with their new toys- very grinchy of me, I know. And what did I find but pans of perfect, buttery, flaky croissants covering the kitchen counters. But because I was being a grinch what I said was, "NOW will you believe me that you were making croissants and not crescent rolls?" And then I flounced out of the kitchen. But I ate my words that evening at Christmas dinner- and they were good.

And, a thought for today: nasty cold + mastitis = feeling like a big pile of junk. Which caused me to think this thought- I HATE THIS!!!!! I hate breastfeeding. I hate that it makes me sick (this is my EIGHTH bout of mastitis people) and I hate that I have spent the entire afternoon, which I should have spent in bed, alternately nursing (ow!) and calming a cranky baby. But then. She looked at me just now with her little snakey grin and her perpetually raised eyebrows and I thought, I love this. I really do. But why does it have to hurt so much?

Somebody save me...

Conversation had in the kitchen...

Me (nervously): Eric. This is a recipe for croissants.
Eric: I know. Trust me. I'm making crescent rolls.
Me: Okaaaaaay......because croissants are really hard to make.
Eric: Just trust me Katie.

I guess he was not taught by his mother, as I was by mine, that normal, sane people do not make croissants. Especially when they think they're making crescent rolls.

Merry Christmas!

Virtual Christmas cookies for all!

Those yummy plates of treats are so much fun to receive and, theoretically, to make and give- but I just can't do it this year. And I will shamelessly use Marley as my excuse. Just know, wonderful friends and neighbors, that I love you and that in my heart I WANT to make Christmas cookies for you- the BEST Christmas cookies- sugar cookies with royal icing and red hots on them, buttery spritz in red and green and white, gingerbread men decorated to look like you, toffee sprinkled with pecans, thumbprints filled with jam and hershey's kisses. On a cute plate. With a ribbon on top. And a card telling you that I love you, you're wonderful, and I'm so glad our lives are intertwined. I mean it- I really do, so please except my virtual Christmas cookies- I'll make up for it next year, I promise!

And now I will rant:

WHY!?!?!?! WHY do they make CHILDREN'S toys that cost so freakin' much money?!? And WHY do my children ask for these toys from Santa?! The treasured desire of Brigham's heart is a batman lego set. He has never seen one. But he knows that Santa's elves can make one. And they can, my friends. They CAN make batman legos. And they SOMEHOW can charge $88.00 for them. Don't believe me? Go here and weep. For a bargain, you can get a lesser set for $44.95. Have I ever heard of craigslist? Why yes, yes I have. Batman legos cost even more there. No, no that doesn't make sense. Not to me, the desperate mother of a five-year-old boy. Perhaps it makes sense to the socially challenged, forty-year-old, still-living-with-their-moms LOSERS for whom these toys must really be made. I hope they have a very merry Christmas. Needless to say, Briggie will not be getting his heart's desire on Christmas morning. I'm still trying to think up an excuse for Santa.

Don't I know you from the cinematographer's party?

Click here to see a commercial my brother shot- very cute!

Strange days, these

As I sat down to write this post, I heard Eric say: "Hi, I was calling about the chickens posted on craigslist? Do you have any chickens left?" ...and it occurred to me that my life is getting odder buy the day.

Further evidence: while looking for a meatball recipe I found this index entry: scorzonera salsify. Salsify, I learned, is a vegetable "which resembles a large beige carrot covered with tiny rootlets", or, alternatively, "a long, thin, black-skinned root that looks like a stick" (that would be the scorzonera variety). And that is why I love The Joy of Cooking.

Here are some pictures from Eric's department's Christmas party, which featured a professor dressed like Santa Claus, some really good gingerbread cookies and a lot of women in fur coats. Is that my future? I had to wonder. To be paraded about in a fur coat at Christmas parties like some trophy wife? Just as long as Marley gets a matching one...






And here is me with Marley and my cousin Janice, who came to visit yesterday morning and brought us homemade mints.


She and cousin Fred pulled into the driveway just as I was about to water the Christmas tree. I watched through the window as they got out of the car and their little dog, CJ (pronounced southern style with the emphasis on the 'J', FYI), took off down the street. Fred took off after him in the Buick while Janice pursued on foot. I shrugged my shoulders and began to water the tree, which promptly tipped over. See what I mean?

Running again

Here is evidence that I am not the most compulsive runner out there. But I do love to run. Having a baby is an amazing experience, but it takes a while to start feeling like yourself again- physically and emotionally. Every time, getting back to running is what gets me back to being me. Last week my mom bought me a used Dreamer Design I had found on craigslist as an early Christmas present. I used to have a double Dreamer Design when we lived in Seattle. I got it when Brigham was a few months old, on the day that Eric started teaching early morning seminary. Almost every morning for the next two years, I pushed the boys up the big hill to the blessedly flat Burke Gillman trail. On the way up I would talk to them, listen to their quirky little observations, unwrap packages of crackers, etc. But when we got to the trail I put my earphones in and they knew that "mama can't hear you now because she's running".

If one of them dropped a toy I would pick it up once. If they dropped it again it was lost to the trail. Once Brigham kicked a shoe off and I didn't notice it until we got home. I loved those shoes. When Eric had worn them he'd kicked one off into the fish ladder at the Ballard locks and a worker had to retrieve it from amongst the salmon it with a long-handled net. I looked for the shoe on the trail everyday for a week. I finally gave up and threw away the other shoe, and the very next day I saw the match while driving to a friend's house- he had kicked it off on the bridge over Sandpoint Way and it had fallen onto a bush next to the road.

If they cried or screamed to get out of the stroller, I turned up the volume on my ipod. Many a disapproving stranger stared me down as I ran along, earphones in place, volume all the way up, smile on my face, while both children screamed and kicked their legs for all they were worth. Once or twice I almost didn't have the energy to push that load for five miles, and that's when I would think of my hero- triple jogging stroller lady. Somewhere in Seattle lives a woman with a set of twins and an older child that she pushes in a triple jogger- while running. Wow, is all I can say!

Mostly, though, they were good times out on the trail. The boys were content to watch for bizarre sights like the guy who rode a two story bike (two frames welded together, one on top of the other). How he got on and off, I still don't know. And the one-legged cyclist, another of my inspirations. We even trained for a marathon with that stroller (minus the long runs- I'm not that hardcore).

So as I begin a new jogging stroller era with my little Marley B., I wonder what strange sights we'll see, what great feats we'll accomplish, and what beloved articles of clothing we'll lose....

Want to hear about my bad dream last night?

We were all in some kind of building, and we had to evacuate it, but we had to turn off all the light switches first. I was carrying Marley down a messed up spiral staircase and she kept getting heavier and heavier. I almost dropped her, and had visions (terrifying visions that I can't get out of my head!) of her bouncing down the stairs. I had lost Brigham, and when I found him, he was carrying a tiny baby of his own in a bjorn. What, I ask you, is the meaning of this?

Thanksgiving recap:

We went to the beach.
We forgot our camera.
We did a turkey trot (which is what you call going running on Thanksgiving).
We reverted to waking up twice a night.
We watched football on TV, and little Eric was heard to say, "Why is that coach getting so mad? It's just a game!" (That's my boy:-)
We made chocolate chess pie.
We swam in an indoor pool with the lights off.
We selected as our Thanksgiving dinner must-haves: sweet potatoes (E), gravy (K), root beer (e), "the kind of chips that come in a can" (B), milkmilkandmoremilk (M).
We got a new jogging stroller for an early Christmas present.
We took apart the jogging stroller's hand brake in an effort to adjust it and ended up with a ziploc bag full of parts.
We caught colds.
We got a little too excited about seeing Mr. Nielson on youtube.
We practiced catching the football while diving into the sand.
We drove home in the rain.




And now for Christmas: I'm obnoxiously proud of the fact that it took me less than twenty minutes to put up all our Christmas decorations. Marley's stocking is in the works...I'll post pictures as soon as it's revealed. I just thought of something...does it have a bird Santa? Note to Mama- it needs a bird Santa! The advent calendar is hung, stuffed with drug company swag culled from various conferences my mom has attended this year. Don't laugh- there's some good stuff: an antibacterial stethiscope cover, a syringe-shaped highlighter- things of that nature.

I can already tell it's going to be a good one....