I Want to Help You, Help Me

This isn't news for those of you who know me, but I can't cook.

Seriously, I know NOTHING.

I need to learn.

I want to learn.

From all of you.

Yes that's right. I'm looking to the blogosphere for help.

Keeping in mind that I know nothing, please give me some guidance. I'm seeking some simple recipes for family dinner. Crock pot recipes would be great. ANY recipes would be great.

Can you help out a hapless, culinary challenged mother of two ridiculoulsly picky kids? See, that's one of my problems. My laziness with learning how to cook has forged a dependance on mcdonalds, corn dogs and mac and cheese. Trying to get them to eat anything else is a recipe for disaster (ironically the only recipe I have mastered).

I dream of the day that we can sit at the dinner table and eat some sort of a casserole without my kids sobbing and vomitting all over the table (they can barf at the drop of a hat).

You all have helped me with book choices, dealing with potty training and night terrors and now I come to you again asking for your boundless wisdom.

In return for your wisdom, I will share my experiences (trust me Im confident that the stories will abound); I will even include pictures of the more frightening cases.

Please.

I need your help.

I need your recipes!

Two Short Stories of the Evangelically Challenged...

~Story #1~

I picked Jack up from preschool yesterday and we had this conversation about his day:

ME: Jack, what did you learn at school today?

JACK: We learned about the Bible!!

ME: Cool! What did you learn?

JACK: Oh I can't tell you.

ME: Why not?

JACK: It's a secret Mom - we're not supposed to talk about the Bible with anyone.

~Story #2~

Jack is singing the song "Jump, Jump, Jump into the Light, Light, Light." He loved singing the chorus.

Over and over and over again.

JACK: (singing at the top of his lungs) Heeeee is the Liiiiiight! Heeeeee is the Liiiiiight! Heeeeee is the Liiiiiight! Heeeeee is the Liiiiiight! Heeeeee is the Liiiiiight! Heeeeee is the Liiiiiight! Heeeeee is the Liiiiiight!

HOPE: Yeah, Yeah, OKAY JACK. He's the light, I get it. Now be quiet.

Vacation Revelation, Part VII

I can read!

___________

Since I graduated college, I haven't done much pleasure reading. I've done a lot of reading for work, things like all of Patrick Lencioni, Malcom Gladwell, Marcus Buckingham - stuff like that.

But I haven't read any novels.

Until vacation when I started reading a little book called....

Twilight.

Don't judge me.

And now I can't stop. And every book I've read I've been obsessed with finishing. It's like I can't concentrate on anything else!

What's happening?

Since my vacation began on August 28th, I have read the following:

• Twilight
• New Moon
• Eclipse
• Breaking Dawn
• The Secret Life of Bees
• My Sister's Keeper
• Shutter Island (this is the new Scorsese movie w/ Leo DiCaprio that's coming out soon. I HIGHLY recommend it)
• The Russian Concubine (again, don't judge me)

I'm still reading The Russian Concubine - so I can't give a report on that one. But all of the others one were awesome. AWESOME!

On my bookshelf, just waiting for me to read them are:

• Say You're One of Them
• Friday Night Knitting Club
• Time Traveller's Wife
• Water for Elephants
  
• The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

I'm loving it. I have very little interest in television (which I am also loving).

Reading is so.....

Satisfying.

Who knew?

I Love my Husband.

That is all.

Vacation Revelation, Part VI

"Schedule" is a dirty word.

____________________

In the words of my favorite comic Calvin & Hobbes, “there’s never enough time to do all the nothing you want."

That was our vacation this year. Oh sure, we did stuff – but the vast majority of our time was spent hanging out by the pool.

My favorite conversation of our vacation was as follows:

Heidi: So Kurt, what do you want to do today?

Kurt: I don’t know – whatever we feel like.

(long pause)

Heidi: What day is it?

(another long pause)

Kurt: I have no idea.

It doesn't get any better than that.

Vacation Revelation, Part V

Vacation is about Excess.
________________________

(This blog post could also be considered a vaction "confession" - but a confession implies an apology of sorts- and I make no apologies about this particular vacation behavior).

Let me preface this blog post with this: Don’t Judge Me.

We usually eat reasonably healthy food. We occassioanlly have have junk food – but we work to keep it under control.

Unless we’re on vacation.

As far as I’m concerned, Vacation is synonymous with Excess.

Do what you love to do – and do a lot of it; so long as it’s fun and relaxing (and legal). I’m not with really down with doing excessive amounts of work on vacation. You get the idea…

Anyway… the Goble Family enjoys Comfort Food.

So when the Goble Family goes on vacation, we bring out the Comfort Food (in abundance).

And a Comfort Food staple for us is GORP.

GORP stands for “Good Ol’ Raisins & Peanuts.”

Okay, so NOTHING about raisins and peanuts sounds comforting (or appetizing).

So we’ve made modifications (actually, it’s an old Rekstad Family recipe that has been carried forward).

Remember.

DON’T.JUDGE.ME.

This is our version of GORP.

Sigh.... It’s beautiful, isn’t it?

(you have to click on the picture to truly appreciate its beauty)

Of course, we also buy excessive amounts of new clothes while we're on vacation because by the time we get home, none of our clothes fit us anymore. But hey... You take the bad with the good, right?

Vacation Revelation, Part IV

Fresh air smells foul to 7 year olds.

_______________________________

We step off the shuttle and into the most beautiful place I’ve ever been.

We’re deep in the heart of Zion Canyon in Zion National Park.

It’s early morning (about 7:30 or so).

The breeze is cool.
The river is flowing rapidly about 100 yards from us.

There are trees all around us – and off in the distance is a beautiful meadow.

The rock cliffs that soar several thousand feet into the air are a deep rust color and seem to go on without ending.

There’s no one else around.

Hope and I are hand in hand as we start down the trail.

I inhale deeply – close my eyes and just soak it all in for a minute.

Hope does the same.

She inhales deeply and immediatley looks up at me with a look of disgust.

“WHAT is that smell, Mom?”

"What smell?" I demand. How could she hurl such an insult at the most beautiful place in the world?

She inhaled again - and this time cut it short with a load groan, "Ugh! The air STINKS!"

I try to compose myself amid such blasphemy.

I inhale again.

"What you smell is called fresh air, Hope. Fresh.Air."

"Yeah well...." she mutters and her voice trails off...

(long pause)

"... it stinks."

Sigh...

Vacation Revelation, Part III

Laugh and the world laughs with you.

Fart and you stand alone.
___________________________________

We’re on the shuttle in Zion National Park.

There’s a little old married couple sitting two rows in front of us.

They’re so sweet together – he’s talking and she’s laughing softly.

I see the man rocking back and forth in his seat, trying to get comfortable.

Suddenly the look on the woman’s face changes. She looks irritated.

No more smiles, soft laughter or chatting.

Without warning, she gets up and moves to another seat at the front of the shuttle and glaring at him the entire time.

The man shakes his head and continues rocking.

And then I hear it.

A sort of muted trumpet sound.

What? What is that? Is that an animal? What is that?

I look around and don’t see anything.

No one else on the shuttle seems to notice anything.

The little old man is looking around the shuttle as he rocks from side to
side; undoubtedly searching for the source of the weird trumpety sound.

Our eyes lock.

He stops moving, mid-rock.

I hear the trumpety sound again.

The man gives me a big grin.

Wait…

The trumpety sound seems to be in time with the old man’s rocking.

I begin processing.

Sweet little old lady becomes irritated and leaves husband’s side to sit in the front of the shuttle.

Sweet little old man rocking back and forth – seemingly in sync with the weird trumpety sound.

Old man’s big goofy grin is followed by more rocking and trumpeting.

And then the wind changes….

The little old man’s grin widens as my eyes begin to water.

Dear.Lord.In.Heaven.

WHAT is that smell…

Fortunately we arrive at our stop just as the gray fog is enveloping the rest of my family. We dive off the shuttle and breathe in the fresh air.

I hear the little old man laughing as the shuttle drives away.

He’s still sitting alone.

Rocking.

And trumpeting.

Vacation Revelation, Part II

I am more relaxed when my hair is stringy, my face is freckled beyond all reason and I'm not wearing any make-up.

__________________________________

When I'm at home, I never go anywhere without putting on make-up and doing my hair. It's just one of the many things that I'm uptight about.

But on vacation? I couldn't care less.

Behold, my vacation face...

I Think it's Perfectly Normal; Part XXVI

My second toe is shorter than my big toe.

Hope's Homework Assignment

Hope’s first homework assignment as a Second Grader was to learn about her name. Who picked it, what it means and why it was chosen for her. She then had to present her findings to her class.

When I read over the questions we needed to answer, my heart sank.

I wasn’t concerned that the assignment would be too difficult for her.

I was concerned that the assignment would be difficult for me…

The story of how Hope got her name is kind of a heavy story – and I’ve never really sat down and told her about it. I’ve told her parts of it – but none of it was presented to her in a way that would enable her to talk about it with a room full of second graders.

See, Hope’s name came from a time of great sadness and fear in our family.

I was four months pregnant. It was my third pregnancy – my first two had ended in miscarriage, so I was pretty nervous about losing this baby too.

The call came on Thursday night before Memorial Day weekend.

It was 7:30.

My mom hadn’t been feeling well for quite a while and had undergone several tests – the most recent being a colonoscopy.

The colonoscopy showed a bowel obstruction. Surgery was required.

The diagnosis was grim.

Colon Cancer. Stage 4.

The call that I got was from my dad. Through his sobs, he choked out the words, "The doctor said 6 weeks."

My world stopped.

I didn’t need to do the math to realize that my mom was going to die before my child was born.

How could this happen?

My mom didn’t care how it could happen – she was going to make sure that it didn’t happen.

Her response to the doctor was, “You’re wrong. I’m going to be here to see my grandbaby and that’s that.”

It was a time of fear.

Sadness.

Anxiety.

There was such a sense of finality to every conversation that took place.

6 weeks came and went – mom was still here.

Could it be that the doctor was wrong?

We received a new diagnosis.

It wasn’t Colon Cancer, it was Ovarian Cancer; still Stage 4. The doctor assured us that this was good news. “Ovarian Cancer responds better to chemotherapy” he said.

It was a time of optimism.

Possibility.

Anticipation.

Hope...

Hope that my mom would live.

Hope that my baby would live to be born.

Hope that I would see my mom hold my child.

Hope….

In July, we had the "big" ultrasound.

I remember hearing the words: Healthy… Baby... Girl…

I called my mom to tell her.

We cried together.

Hope Noel was born on October 25, 2001.

My mom came and held her in the hospital.

It was a time of victory.

Triumph.

Hope…

The doctor gave us 6 weeks.

God gave us 16 months.

It was a time of family healing.

Love.

Joy.

Hope…

Mom went home to be with Jesus on September 21, 2002 – just a month before Hope’s first birthday.

This was the last picture of them taken together.

It was a time of incredible loss.

Pain.

Sadness.

Hope…

Hope that comes from knowing, that because of Christ's love and His sacrifice, I will see her again. That my baby Hope will see her again.

It was - and still is - a time of hope....

Vacation Revelation Part I

Three year old boys should not attempt housework without direct supervision.

______________________________________________

I was straightening up the house. I had just finished throwing a load of clothes in the washing machine when Jack walked up to me and insisted that he help me.

I gave him little jobs to do – throw this in the trash, go set this on the coffee table, go sit on the quietly on the couch to keep it from flying away (you’d be surprised how often that one works), etc…

Little did I know that he had his sights set on something that was a bit more…. involved.

I continue my whirlwind cleaning tour with great speed and focus as I am eager to finish because I’m in the middle of reading the book, “Breaking Dawn” (the fourth and final book in the beloved Twilight saga) and taking a break from reading it has produced symptoms that can only be described as separation anxiety.

In my blinding dedication to return to my book, I focus all my attention on getting the house clean.

And then it hits me.

I haven’t seen or heard from Jack in quite some time.

As if sensing that I was thinking of him, I hear from shout at me from the hallway.

“Momma! I just do the waundry!”

No…..

I drop what I’m doing and run toward the laundry room. He’s not in there.

“JACK?!” I shout my voice filled with panic.

“In here Momma!” came the cheerful reply.

It was coming from the bathroom.

Oh.

No…..

And just as I turn to make my way to the bathroom, I see him standing there – naked from the waist down, grinning from ear to ear, his shirt totally soaked, "water" all over his face, holding out a ball of sopping wet clothes – which have now created a pool of “water” at his feet.

“My helping you Momma! I did the waundry for you!"

With great trepidation I manage to sqeak out the words, "Where did you do the laundry Jack?"

"In the tooolet!" he said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

My mind immediately starts in with the coping exercises that it has so diligently practiced since the day Jack was born. Breathe.... Don't look at water now pooling around your feet.... Breathe.... Look at how cute he is.... He just wants to help.... Breathe.... You love him more than life itself..... Children are a precious, precious gift.... BREATH...... BA-REEEETHE!

I stand over the toilet with the eyes pinched shut for about 35 seconds before I finally look.

Judging from the substance in the toilet, the “waundry” wasn’t the only thing he did in there.

Sigh....

Can't blog....... reading Twilight series

I heart Edward Cullen.

Don't judge me.

Okay Friends, I Really Need Your Help on this...

Okay friends, readers, lurkers, I desperately need some help with this one....

Jack (my 3 year old son) refuses to poop on the toilet. He'll go potty - no problem at all. But when it comes to poop, he's as stubborn as the day is long.

He'll hide somewhere.... I'll catch him - trying to poop in his underwear. I'll take him to the toilet and sit him on it.

He will sit there and scream for a half hour - and never take a poop.

This will go on for days.

Until finally, he will wait till bedtime (when he gets a pull-up) - and poop in his pull-up.

This has been the pattern for the last 3 months.

And here's a little something to make it more fun:

He's supposed to start preschool on September 9th. He can't go unless he's fully potty trained.

I need your help.

We may not know each other.

You may not like to comment on people's blogs.

But please.

I need some advice!

UGSFAW

For those of you who may not know what UGSFAW is - it stands for Ultimate, Gnarly, Super Fantastic, Awesome Week. It's our church's take on VBS.


It's an amazing week.


It's a gift to get to be a part of it.

I feel privileged to be a part of our church.



I'm so proud of my husband.

Here's just a few pictures from the week...





Kurt dropping in while tennis balls are being thrown at him.

The crowd worshipping.

Jeff Dennis leading the Worship Band in a way that only he can.

Our super cool Mascots.

My awesome husband.

The Green and Orange Teams listening to the lesson (this picture only shows half the kids that attended UGSFAW).




It truly was the most Ultimate, Gnarly, Super, Fantastic, Awesome Week of the summer.

My Sweet Girl...

What We have Here is a Failure to Communicate

Jack (who is 3 years old) was put on Time Out.

I will spare you the details - just know that his urine, his realization that he possesses the ability to be a human squirt gun, the cat and my bathroom floor were all involved.

Okay, so Time Outs at our house involve him sitting on his rocking chair in his room.

He sits there until I say he can get up.

The door is closed.

Talking is not allowed.

The goal of the Time Out is two-fold:

Part One: Jack will reflect on what he's done wrong and how he'll NEVER do it again.

Part Two: Mommy can retreat to her room where she can lay on the bed in a fetal position and avoid doing something that will land her on the evening news.

So back to our story...

Jack has been on Time Out for approximately 5 minutes.

I walk into his room feeling a bit calmer - happy that he is sitting quietly in his chair.

I make my way over to him and crouch down on the floor so that we are eye to eye. Jack is wearing a VERY serious expression on his face and his eyes are big.

I gently take hold of both his hands and ask him, "Are you ready to be done with Time Out?"

"Yes Mommy" came the soft reply.

"Are you going to try and go potty on BelleBelle (our cat) again?"

"No Mommy."

I begin to feel a sense of triumph. I got through to him!! He understands why he's in trouble and he's not going to do it anymore. I am SUCH a good mom. I should teach a class; or at the very least receive the much coveted Mother of the Year Award. After this victory, I am a shoe-in!

With my confidence at an all-time high, I decide that it is now time to ask the most important question.

(ASIDE: I ask this question because I think it's important that kids can contextualize the discipline they receive. If they don't understand WHY they're being disciplined, they're just going to repeat the behavior and I don't think Jack (or our cat) will survive a repeat of this particular incident. Also, I want them to know that it's coming from a place of love - not of mean spiritidness).

I take a deep breath and ask,

"Jack, can you tell me why you got a Time Out?"

I hold my breath and watch intently as Jack's facial expression changes.

(I'm very eager to hear the words that I'm certain will come out his mouth which are:
"I got a Time Out because I tried to pee on the cat. I know it was wrong and I'll NEVER do it again. Thank you for making me understand that it was wrong. I'm sorry for peeing on the cat.")

I'm still holding my breath and beginning to compile my thoughts on my acceptance speech for my now-certain Mother of the Year Award.

But wait... Something is happening.

His expression contines to change.

It becomes..... dark.

Angry.

Menacing.

He leans into me so that we are nose to nose. He inhales deeply and says with great conviction,

"I'm on Time Out..... BECAUSE. YOU'RE. MEAN."

Sigh...

(afterthought: Jack was not trying to be mean to the cat when he tried to pee on her. He said he was trying to cool her off. So don't call PETA on me.)

My Husband Thinks it's Perfectly Normal; Part I

So I've written a lot about things that I think are perfectly normal.

I thought it was time to rat out - uh... I mean share with you something about my husband.


He is terrified of bandaids.

Seriously.

He won't go near them.

He will walk around with an injury that looks like it requires stitches and will still refuse to put a bandaid on it.

He thinks it's perfectly normal.

I think it's an issue that warrants some sort of 12-step program...

For Fans of the Matrix Trilogy...

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

Nordrstrom's Reject

So I'm at Costco. I see that they have swimming suits.

SIDE NOTE: I don't know that I can adequately convey my loathing of swim-suit shopping.

Seriously.

So if I need a suit and I see one - I just grab one in my size. I don't try it on (life is hard enough).

They had black swimming suits at Costco.

I walk up to the rack and reach for the suits to start browsing for my size.

About 20 feet away is the saleslady - lamenting to her co-worker about the fact that she didn't get hired as a salesperson at Nordstrom.

She sees me looking through the suits and says (from 20 feet away so it's REALLY loud) "Oh I'm sorry honey - we don't have anymore larges!"

Nice.

But wait. There's more.

I look up at her, my face quickly beginning to change color.

She continues with this.... (note that she was still 20 feet away and is still talking at full voice)

"You really look like you should get an extra large anyway. I think we have some in the back - let me page somebody for an extra large suit for you."

OH.DEAR.LORD....

I simply look at her and eek out the words "No need."

She resumed her conversation about her complete surprise at the fact that she couldn't get a a job at Nordstroms....

Yeah.

If only there had been some clue...

If You have a Problem; If No One Else Can Help; And if You can Find Them; Maybe You can Hire.... The A-Team.

I think the A-Team was one of the greatest shows of the 80s.

I was a huge fan.

My Dad was a huge fan too. We had a van back in those days. He would drive up to a curb, slow way down, have me or my brother open the side door (while he was singing the theme song at the top of his lungs) and have us jump out.

Explains a few things, doesn't it...

Anyway. I never missed it. It was on every Tuesday night at 8:00.

I even have an autographed picture from Dirk Benedict (he played Templeton FaceMan Peck). I got it when I babysat his kids.

Yeah, that's right.

I.Babysat.His.Kids.

Anyway.

It was one of the best shows ever.

Oddly enough, Dwight Schultz (he played Howling Mad Murdock) also appeared on several episodes of another favorite show of mine, Star Trek The Next Generation (he played Lieutenant Barclay).

Yeah....

The A-Team was a classic.

I Think it's Perfectly Normal; Part XXV

I will walk up to 15 extra blocks to avoid having to parallel park.

Refrigerator Revelations (GROSS)

I think that one of the reasons we go through difficult experiences is so that we can help others either avoid the same situations - or at least help them if they are going through a similar situation.

That's what this entry is about. It's me helping you. Warning you, if you will.

(Read on at your own peril and don't judge me).

The following is a list of things I learned while cleaning out my refrigerator:

1. Moldy asparagus juice pooling in the bottom of your refrigerator smells worse than asparagus pee.
2. If the expiration date on the deli sliced ham says 2/15/09, don't sniff it to make sure it's really bad; just trust that it is in fact, really, really bad.
3. Juice left behind by a bag of rotting radishes has epoxy (very strong adhesive) like qualities.
4. The jar of jam that was given as a gift in 2005 will become a permanent fixture on the second shelf if it's left sitting in the epoxy resin created by the rotting radishes.
5. When stray baby carrots get left behind in the produce tray, they shrivel up and look like funny, little orange raisins.
6. Three-year-old little boys get excited about little orange raisins - until they try one...
7. The only thing that smells worse than the garbage bag full of rotting produce, runny leftover tuna casserole from Father's Day and the mystery meat from February is that same garbage bag after it's been sitting in the hot garage for two days.
8. Cleaning one's refrigerator on a full stomach when you have a sensitive, trigger-happy gag reflex is a terrible, terrible idea.

I hope that the wisdom I have imparted on you has been helpful.

Thank you for this opportunity to share.

Touched by a (pint-sized) Angel...

Jack (who is 3) was playing on the playground at church this morning.

I arrived a few minutes early to take him to his class and was greeted by him being carried off the playground, crying hysterically.

He had fallen and scraped his knee up pretty good.

He saw me and started crying harder. He was so sad...

I picked him up and loved on him a little bit and that's when I noticed all the little kids that had followed us inside - all of them wore looks of concern on their faces. They wanted to make sure that Jack was alright.

There was one little girl in the crowd of kids who followed especially close. Her name was Lexi (she is also 3).

Lexi (seen here in this pic) taught me something today.

She demonstrated to me what it means to truly give of yourself.

Lexi has a little blanket (about the size of a cloth diaper or a burp cloth); it's her Nite-Nite. It is one of her more prized possessions. In the words of her mom, her nite-nite is her ultimate comfort. (for more detail, here's a blog post about it)

Anyway - Jack was now seated and was about to have his scraped knee cleaned (OUCH). The medicated wet-wipe touched his knee and he let out a shriek. Lexi was standing behind Jack - and as soon as Jack cried out, she put her hand on his shoulder and left it there.

At that moment I saw something in Jack's hands. He buried his face in it and he stopped crying.

It was Lexi's nite-nite.

Lexi had given Jack her nite-nite to help him feel better.

Her most prized possession.

And she gave it to Jack.

She saw that someone was sad and hurting - and needed it more than her. So she gave away the thing that matters most to her. No questions asked. She just said, "here Jack..."

I was so touched by that.

I tend to make things so complicated. I over-analyze, obsess, worry, etc. I'm ashamed to say that when I give something to someone, I have a tendency to make it more about me than the person I'm giving to.

Acts of giving should be simple. Simplicity is a natural by-product of taking the focus off yourself and putting it on the other person.

When Lexi gave Jack her nite-nite, she had no agenda, no contract stating when the nite-nite was to be returned or how it was to be used, nothing about what she wanted in return. Nothing about how she felt at all.

She simply gave it to him to make him feel better.

She didn't think about herself. She only thought of Jack.

So simple...

I made sure Jack was alright, hugged him good-bye and made my way back to the main auditorium for church. I stopped when I saw Lexi and gave her a big hug, trying to conceal the tears that were now pouring freely. I gave her a kiss and told her thank you. I know she doesn't know how much her simple act meant - but someday she will. I know that I will never forget it.

Thank you Lexi.... you made Jack feel so much better today. And you also reminded me of something so important: that I need to put others first. No questions asked...

It's that simple.

Like Father, Like Son (rated PG-13)

We were at Ruby's for lunch.

I lean over to Jack (who just turned 3) and ask, "Jack, don't you just love Ruby's?"

"Oh yeah Momma!" he said at the top of his lungs "...I LOVE boobies!"

Sigh...