Taking On Old Fashion Cooking

Part of the direction I have been going in the last few years is to learn how to cook and preserve food like our grandparents did. It has only been in the last fifty or so years that we have gotten away from making our food from real ingredients and whole foods. At this point what used to be normal is now a lost art. Canning, drying, cooking! So tonight I was talking to a friend who just made her own butter and I was so inspired to make my own. She was able to use a Vitamix blender and in the process saved some money. So of course I will be trying that tonight because we love butter over here. In our conversation she asked me to post some of my recipes that I found work for our family here on this blog.

This will be the first one. I love making pizza. Well I don't love making pizza but I love the feeling I get by knowing how to pronounce every single ingredient. This is a healthy crust my whole family loved. I didn't have wheat germ but I did use ground flax seed and chia seed. I also made my own sauce. Simple throw together kind... in my Vita Mix. Garlic, tomatoes, onion and seasoning with salt. My kids loved the fresh taste. I don't have any fresh tomatoes tonight so I will substitute with canned. Anyway here's the recipe for the crust if anyone is interested.

Greasy, Grimy Gopher Guts.

Greasy, grimy gopher guts. Why did we used to sing this on the playground and where did it come from? Well apparently it was a folk song sung by children in the USA and has a place in history at the Smithsonian. I thought it was made up by some farmer that had enough of the pest. Nevertheless it was going through my head today.

License to kill gophers by the government of the United Nations. Man, free to kill gophers at will. To kill, you must know your enemy, and in this case my enemy is a varmint. And a varmint will never quit - ever. They're like the Viet Cong - Varmint Cong. So you have to fall back on superior intelligence and superior firepower. And that's all she wrote.
Caddy Shack

Today was officially the first day of working on our property, we irrigated. No sooner did the water start to flow than we realized we had a terrible gopher problem. We sprung several leaks due to the extensive underground critter tunnels. Unfortunately we lost many gallons of precious water as it went where it wasn't supposed to go. So needless to say, gopher extermination otherwise known as Operation Kill the Buggers has begun - starting today.

Don't get me wrong. I was a very strict vegetarian for over 10 years due to the fact I don't believe (or didn't believe) in killing animals. Here's the thing. This is my land. This is where my kids will play, and our food will grow. If it comes between choosing a disease ridden mole and my kids, I am going to choose the kids (although some-days I bet the mole has more manners) that being beside the point, I don't want to kill but I will. (Well I won't actually kill one, that would be the job of Gary or anyone else but me)

I have devised a plan. First I will pray them off. Yes pray. Why not? God can move animals, he caused a giant fish to swallow Jonah so he can make a gopher family leave my little homestead. If that doesn't do the trick we will try trapping the buggers and then releasing them into the wild. ( I am pretty sure this won't work although the image of me gently releasing them into the wilderness wearing a long flowing dress and flowers in my hair seems appealing.) In the end I regret to say we have to kill them. I plan on using my Rat Terrier dog, perhaps a snake (we would have to catch a wild Gopher snake, that being in and of itself a blog post worth posting) We can use irrigation and flood the suckers or bomb them with fire crackers or feed them Juicy Fruit gum or smoke them out or even dry ice them out. The possibilities are endless as is the amount of work. Today was marked by killing the first one. A poor little soul who lost its way and met it's maker. I am not going to say who or how delivered the blow because we are not proud. Every creature was once a baby and when you imagine the little gopher as a baby they just don't seem so pesky. It had to be done and while I don't condone it I am not going to cry a river either. So with that said, the kids had a blast running in the dirty water just as I did when I was a kid. Mason got burned to a crisp, which also marks the first day of sunblock for us.

So because this blog is an archive of stories for my kids I feel the need to post this gopher related story.

It was a lazy summer day, circa 1980's, I know this because we were watching Fantasy Island and it wasn't on TV land nor was it a rerun. Somewhere between scenes we heard the sound of gushing water, much like a giant toilet being flushed. Suddenly the closet door flew open and a torrent of water flowed into our house. There was a tube that ran underground, designed to cool air from outside that led into the living room closet. A gopher had broken the berm that was used to keep the water from entering this tube from the outside and there you have it. Our basement was flooded. We hopped and screamed trying to unplug things before water got to it. My dad nearly had a heart attack trying to fix the berm outside, grabbing his chest and falling down into the mud. Not a great moment for me because I having just been trained in CPR ran inside the house to call 911 leaving my three younger sisters who didn't know the first thing about CPR to handle my poor dad. Good thing it wasn't a real heart attack. Hey I never said I was good with emergencies.

Well a few days later when we got the basement carpet out and my parents were back to sleeping in their room, that naughty gopher attacked my dad. He had been flushed in through the pipe during the whole debauchery and lets just say, that was the last time he messed with my dad.

That is my story and I am sticking to it.

Friends in the Hood

I have been residing in this particular neighborhood for nearly 10 years. It isn't a flashy subdivision, no private entrance or gated community. Just a plain ol track home kind of deal. Often we joke saying we live in the barrio section of the hood. Really it is quaint and seemingly average. With the small exception of who surrounds me. There is nothing average about my neighbors. I have the unique privilege of co residing with some of the most amazing people. On the outside, like the houses we occupy, they are not flashy but on the inside there is a dazzle that says, ol time values have not been lost here on this little street. I have likened living here to a big adult slumber party. Late night movies at the park with our kids, borrowing sugar at 10 pm in my pjs. Once a neighbor even traded me a hot dog and chips for some tooth fairy money at midnight just when I had been desperately craving a hot dog, one just appeared from down the street. Last night a dear sweet neighbor dropped by a bag of Clementine oranges as a token of thanks for keeping an eye on her bed ridden husband, and tonight at 9 pm my door bell rings and another neighbor walked two chocolate chip oatmeal cookies down to me because she knew I had a rough day. This afternoon, I kept an eye on a few kids for a friend and in turn she did that for me while I ran Mason to cub scouts. The same friend also this afternoon, got back a dish she loaned to another neighbor filled with some chocolate concoction and called me over to share. This afternoon the doorbell rang and I was able to share some lemons we picked off the tree. (The first of many times I hope we can share our fruit.) These little acts of kindness are not random, they are the norm over here. Perhaps that is why staying several years past our proclaimed expiration date of 2 years has been so easy. I really could go on and on but the point of this post is to remember while I am excited about leaving to something bigger square footage wise, there is a reflection on what I will be missing. In some way this is the something bigger. I have watched all of our kids grow from diapers to preteens. We have been camping together, shopping, walking, gained weight lost it, shed tears and shared laughs. I am blessed to have this home not so much because it is a structure over my head but more because the people around me, my neighbors, my friends make living here home and I cherish these memories. No matter where I go these folks will remain my neighbors.

Introduction

So after 30 years of dreaming about life on a farm, 12 years planning for it and 1 desperate year of searching, bidding, hoping and praying for that perfect home on the perfect piece of property.... my uncle calls and offers us a house. The old farm house I grew up in.

I had never considered this home an option, unlike my five sisters I didn't feel particularly attached to the farm. I had always hoped it would go to a good natured owner when it was time, but it wasn't going to be me. I had places to go and people to see that didn't include my past. There is a whole big world out there and a future that is unwritten and new adventures galore. The thought of moving back to the house I spent years 9-18 and 19-20 and 23-24 and 26-27 (I moved in and out several times don't judge me) was just too much to bare.

But never the less here I am, in my parents, ehum, my house. I could say I didn't get far in life and it kind of feels like it at times. Until I stop to think about it. I have been around the world, to Africa and back two times, all over the USA both by land and by air. Nearly everyone of my dreams have been fulfilled and I am not yet 40. I have 5 beautiful children that have taken me both physically and mentally to the edge of the world and that journey alone should cancel any stinking thinking that my life hasn't gone anywhere.

In about 2 months we will pack up our belongings and say goodbye to the house and the neighborhood we have spent the last 10 years in and head out west on that long journey, a whole 20 miles north to the farm. (which has never been by the way a farm, that is just what we called it all these years, we are talking virgin property.)

Technically I haven't gotten very far, if you base your calculations on a physical map. But if there were a map of souls you could pull mine out of that dusty glove box, unfold it's crinkly soul paper, stretch it out and you would see that I am quite the world traveler, a master of miles, a seasoned sojourner, and a little bit dramatic.

So this is it. My first post in what I hope to be many chronicling the misadventures, mistakes, and lessons we learn along the way.

My Tenderoni

Life is full and beautiful with Serenity. She completes me in so many ways. I don't think I have ever smiled so much as I do now. I try to get in every second with her because I am so aware of how fast things move. Here are some of the things Gary and I call her.

Tenderoni
Honey Bear
Marmy
Mamma
Bennidy
Chicken Nugget
Lovins
Cherry Pie


We adore her.

Santa? Cause I don't want to.....

Well it is that time of the year where here in Arizona we are dusting off our inflatable yard decorations. Plugging them in for the air induced resurrection of Frosty and Santa among other characters. Frantic parents begin stringing lights that signal Christmas is near.


Let me tell you, I was a little shocked this year when I started seeing my children less interested in the meaning of Christmas and more concerned with what may be laying under the Christmas tree. I figured it was time to break out once again with the birth of Jesus story.

As I was reading to them from Luke in the bible, I found myself choking back tears. This has been happening to me lately when I hear Christmas carols too that truly honor the birth of our king. The story of Christ goes as such: An angel came into that dark field where the shepherds were up watching their sheep. They were terrified. It doesn't just say they were hanging out in a dark field, but they were keeping watch at night. It was were they lived vigilant, even in darkness. God chose to reveal this to them at this time for a reason! It is the picture of our lives now. We are living in a world that is dark but Glory be! Jesus is the light!!

So back to the story.

I can only imgaine the light from the angels was so bright as they carried the true Glory of God! Nowadays we have so much artificial light but back then they had never seen anything like that, the brightest light they could have been exposed to was the sun. Then the glory of the Son of God comes and their eyes must have been lit on fire, they weren't just scared, they were terrified!! Then to really top things off a whole bunch of angels joined them on earth and began a break out worship service right there in the field! I bet the shepherds were on their faces weeping. I would have been. That would have been a life changing moment. When I hear the lyrics of "OH Holy Night" I sense the true "Spirit of Christmas"

A thrill of hope; the weary world rejoices,

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

Fall on your knees! O hear the angel voices!

O night divine, the night when Christ was Born;

O night, O holy night, O night divine!

The original lyrics, written in 1842 by a French Poet, state the meaning even more clearly.

People kneel down, wait for your deliverance.
Christmas, Christmas, here is the Redeemer,
Christmas, Christmas, here is the Redeemer!


So I decided to find out what the word Christmas meant. Apparently the word itself means, Christ suffering death. The word Mass was used in the church to mark the death and suffering of Christ.

You can clearly see the importance of this day. This is the translation from Luke that just rocked me, normally we hear a different version, but really think on the wording. It brings tears
"Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”

The Lord's favor rest on me. He came to bring peace and that peace rest on me because I am favored!! Praise God!

This leads me back to the conversation I had with my son about good ole St. Nick. I have never allowed my children to "believe" in Santa. I never did growing up and I survived! They can watch the movies, make ornaments and generally enjoy the lightheartedness the jolly man's legend brings, but I under no circumstances would lie to my kids, or even trick them for fun especially when the real meaning of Christmas, (Christ suffering death) is so weighty and glorious. Don't get me wrong I do not think everyone needs to think like me. We each have to do what God and our conscious tells us. But as for me and my house we will serve the Lord. This is one way we serve the Lord in our house.

I was a little taken back when I discovered, despite my best efforts my eldest son believed that a bearded, red clad man brings presents to boys and girls based on their behavior. Thank God this legend is not prevalent in Ethiopia where they sustain the real meaning of Christ suffering and death. If that were the case millions of African children were just naughty this year. I tried to tell him this and to appeal to logic. I know the majority of people will think I am a monster for this) But he was still confused. Then I realized the two sidedness I face each year for my beliefs. I work hard telling my kids that St. Nick was a christian man who helped the poor, but only God knows the heart of man and he is the one and only judge to man. Personally I think St. Nick would be appalled and in absolute horror that his name was attached to this legend in this way. He loved and understood the sovereignty of Christ.

As we go out into the world my kids are faced with well meaning adults asking them what Santa is bringing for Christmas. Then they go to school and Santa visits them, and tells them he is real and he believes in them even though they don't believe in him. They are told they have to write notes to Santa asking him for things. Then they get into trouble with adults because they are ruining the fun for the other kids when they say they don't believe in Santa. Why does my 8 year old have to behave anything more than an 8 year old who is telling the truth? Don't get me wrong, I tell my kids that they need to be respectful of other peoples beliefs and how other people manage their families. But occasionally there is a slip up like when Nettie told the whole kindergarten class that Santa was dead. She wasn't trying to be mean, just telling the truth because in a sense that is what I have taught her. (although not in those words) Recently when Mason got in trouble with his teacher for saying he doesn't do Santa in his house she was under the impression that we didn't celebrate Christmas. My kids are very confused. It seems the burden lays on me to keep my kids quiet. It is like the Christmas mafia mentality.

This is what I told Mason the other night. Afterward he reached out his little hands and scooped up the air and gestured as if he were stuffing something in his heart. He said "Mom I get it, I am taking it all in"

Mason, the point is faith. It comes down to that. Faith is hard for even the most faithful. It takes a level of a child's faith to believe in Santa Clause, it also takes a level of faith to believe in God. I am not going to waste the precious gift of faith believing in things that are not real. Our focus is that God came down in human form and lived and died for all of us. Christ Masse. We worship God with all of hearts, without distraction from the shiny lights and silly traditions of man. We turn our gaze willingly on the King and his sacrifice for us. I wouldn't want you to share that gift of believing in the unseen with anything but Jesus.

He seemed to get it.

In the end it boils down to this. Parents tell their kids something that isn't true. I doubt it will destroy them or their faith but for us even sharing the glory with any man over God that is asking too much from me.

So please society honor my feelings to tell my kids the truth. I am not a monster, I am not a grinch. I haven't ruined Christmas for my kids. The magic isn't really magic. The truth that makes Christmas special is the wander and awe comes from knowing we have favor on earth with a God that adores us and has laid upon us peace through the birth, death and resurrection of his only son JESUS. It does not get any better than that!!!

To be honest there isn't a magic show in town or fun legend I would trade for holy, sanctified wander.

People kneel down and wait for your deliverance!! Christmas Christmas HERE IS YOUR REDEEMER!

Kids don't try this at home.....

Kids do not try this at home. They don't listen.

Just now I hear a crash, bang and the following... whahhhhhhhhh!!!! Judah walks in limping and holding his head, while three guilty "older" children follow. Mason, being the designated speaker explained that Judah asked to be launched with a board into the air. Apparently it worked, story goes he flew 10 feet into the air landed in the rubber chips and hurt his head and foot. It took the three older kids to send him soaring but like I said it worked, and apparently Nettie got "lunched" too. Being the great mom that I am I peaked out just a few minutes ago to find them playing with a big plank of wood and even I with a great imagination couldn't conceive them launching one an other. The inspiration for this launch came from a show "Time Warp" where they take the science of motion and slow it down to really examine it. Mason said after the launching that the show said not to try it at home. Apparently Nettie was the first to launch and it was her idea. Ummm, go figure. Abby then said "Judah you are my hero you can fly!" with that the tears dried and the kids prayed for him in between giggling.

I am not pregnant.

I am not pregnant, this thought hasn't really sunk in. Although the thought of being pregnant never did sink in. I think my mind is about three months behind my body. The other day I turned over in bed and fully expected a kick or jab, but there was nothing there. Instead she lay beside me, such a sweet warm bundle. Yet, I missed her being tucked away nicely inside of me where I could kind of control things a little bit, where love was more a mystery. Now I am alone, separate from her and the experience of her growing in me and now it is gone forever. I came to the realization that now my stomach is just that. A boring ol' stomach. There is nothing special about my pooch now, it is now longer cute and tight. It is no longer a baby bump, it is just a lump. I know that I will recover but I will hopefully never forget how it felt to carry her. I hope that I can always appreciate it, more than I did in the moment. I regret that. I regret that worry and fear kept me from fully enjoying the moment. I honestly didn't think I would get pregnant, or stay pregnant or give birth to a child that lived. Now she is here and absolutely amazing. All that worrying for nothing.

There are some things that I am glad I have back, my bladder being one of them. Of course I have traded my bladder for my breast, which are no longer mine. It seems I traded one leaky system for another. That's okay. My bottom half is almost fully recovered and I forgot how much post part-em recovery there is.

I actually want to have another baby. Crazy, but Serenity is the kind of girl that makes you want more. Okay gotta run.

Serenity Bethel

It is with great pleasure I can sit her, in a fair amount of pain and slightly dazed that I can share how my daughter entered this world October 8th, 2010.

October 7th started with regular contractions but I thought they would stop. They didn't. And about 1 am I started to bleed. Unfortunately because of my condition I wouldn't be able to labor at home. We went to sleep and decided to call the doctor in the morning. Needless to say I didn't sleep well, maybe two hours. I kept waking up to check for hemorrhage. We called the doctor at 8 am and he said that today would be a great day to have a baby and it was time to get her out. We dropped the kids off at Waffle House with my sister in law and she took them to my mother in law. Gary and I checked into the hospital with my sister Janette. They checked me out and admitted me. I was moved to labor and delivery and asked them if I could please walk to see if my contraction would "regulate" they did but I was only given to 2 pm to walk. When I got back up to labor and delivery at St. Joes I was told that I had to go onto pittosin. I wasn't thrilled but it needed to be done. As it was explained to me that this bleed wasn't bad but the second one and there would be one, could be life threatening. I agreed to a small amount of pitt and they began their mandatory duty of blood and IV's baby monitors, etc. It was horrible. But luckily I had a sweet nurse who put up with my wining and of course I had my sister who stood by me in complete support. I didn't feel alone. Unbeknownst to me my wonderful doctor had talked to a nurse named Allison 2 weeks prior who was trained in home birth and natural labor. She even told the resident I was her private patient and she wouldn't let her follow. She switched shifts and patients with my nurse and took over. Unfortunately she could only stay until 7 pm. After she left I did get a string of nurses that were great but couldn't replace what she could have done for me had she been able to stay. Later I found out she called at 4 am just to see how I was. I labored with pitt being slowly turned up until I couldn't take it at all. I asked them to turn it down they did without hesitation. I had to be continually monitored so I could only labor standing up, I tried different positions but I could only move a few feet because of the cords that tied me down. I was able to feel my water break though as I tried laying down. That was cool. I was praying and laying on my side and Janette and Gary were rubbing my legs and praying and I was just committing myself to Christ having a sweet moment in silence when I heard a huge pop and felt something burst. It had to be about 8 pm, I thought I was going to look down and see blood everywhere but it was my water! It felt like a balloon inside of me bursting. I dilated to 4-5 and gave up mentally, she was really high and not descending. I had flash backs of Mason's birth and the pain with pitt and not progressing. My lovely sister and great husband talked me into just a bit longer to get her dropped at least. Janette suggested I keep the standing position. That worked very well. Gary talked them into letting me get into the shower, they unhooked my pitt and monitors and I got to labor in the shower for 15 minutes at a time, but Gary let me stay longer. I did this and when I got out they had to hook me back to the monitors but I talked them into letting me get off the pitt, my contractions were now just mine. After several rounds of this I dialated to 7-8, and had descended. My sister was totally right and I felt very hopeful. At this point it was like midnight? I was so tired, the contractions were wonderfully strong, unfortunately I was horribly tired. I couldn't stand anymore, I tried laying down but it made it worse. I was literally strapped. I gave up. I gave up the moment I entered the hospital. I got the epidural. Then my contractions stopped. Go figure, that's what happens. I thought they could just put me back on pitt, but they couldn't they had to see how Serentiy reacted to the epidural. We didn't have a good reaction, my blood pressure dropped and my heart was pounding in my throat. Serenity didn't like that either. They had to give me epinephrine to counter the epidural. I thought I was going to die. I put music on in my ears and just started praying. Things stablized but they couldn't get my contractions going again until they saw the baby had a good reaction. I remained like this for quite a while. Apparently I was stuck at 7-8 now and the doctor broke the bag of forwaters that was holding her high. Eventually got on pitt again. I finally got a chance to sleep but my blood pressure monitor kept going off as I kept dropping so the alarm kept going off. My sister went home and was planning on coming back, my parents went home as they were told it would be a while. Gary and I fell asleep and didn't know they weren't planning on checking me until way later. My sister Mary stayed faithfully alone in the waiting room. At about 5:45 Gary woke up with a bad feeling. He looked at Serinity's heart rate and it was almost to 200. Very bad. He went to get the nurse and when she came in she said she would need to call doctor, just as she said that he was there. It has been said of him that he has a sixth sense. Well more than once he proved that to us. He checked me and calm as can be said that I was ready to have the baby. I didn't feel a thing!!! I was so numbed I couldn't even feel the pressure of my little girl delivering herself. She was ready to crown! The doctor gowned up and got my legs situated. Then he did something so cool, he let Gary gown up! When he said to push I did, with all my heart and mind. He was instructing Gary on how to deliver the baby. He told me to give it a second push, I did, then one little final push and Gary delivered our beautiful daughter with no assistance from the doctor. He pulled her out and carried her over to me at 6:05 a.m. Out of all the things that didn't go right for me, this was one thing that was the highlight of the birth. Gary delivering our daughter into this world. Thank God my sister Mary was there and was able to take pictures, she was the only one who was there, my sister Janette who stayed behind from her family in California missed the birth. My friend Jen who I was going to call when I was at 8-9 never knew, and my mom who stayed until 2:00 a.m. missed it.
They collected the cord blood, and let her sit on my belly for 2 minutes. Then she became a human pin cushion as they were concerned about infection because of her elevated heart rate. So typical of hospital births. When they let me hold her, her heart rate dropped 10 points. Then they took her from me and stressed her out.
We found out that my dedicated Doctor Medchill stayed with me the whole time after putting in a full days work. He waited for me letting me do what I needed to do. Then after instructing my husband on how to deliver Serenity he stitched me up and went back to work a full day. Unbelievable. He slept at the hospital just for me. The placenta did not fail or bleed during delivery, thank God. Every nurse I had was amazing and kind. I could not have done this without my husband or sister. Both of them stood by my side rubbing my back for hours. These are things that "Thank you" simply does not cover. Even though I went in angry about having to have a hospital birth I left with a beautiful, 9.5 pound baby, healthy and happy. A little sore a little Johndist, but all in one piece. I can't wait to jot my thoughts on the absolute beauty of a new baby, it is amazing. I am loving this in such a different way now that I am almost 9 years older than when I had my first. God has blessed me. The kids love their baby sister, especially Mason. The whole thing is amazing. This brought Gary and I closer and now our little family of 7 is complete.

maybe the last post before I am a new mommy

Went to doctor today and I am dilated to 2.5, 60% effaced and thinned out. happy dance insert here. Still he told me to start thinking about induction. So I go back on Saturday to see him. As of right now the baby is perfect and everything is fine. I went to my mom's house tonight and did some moves my sister showed me and directly after went into contractions. I have been having good contractions now for several hours. I am going to wait it out until I can't talk, type or walk before I go in. This could be another false start but it feels just a bit different. So hard to tell, I have switched positions several times and they are still coming. So now I am just plumbed tuckered out. Going to bed.

On a side note we put an offer in on a house they accepted and took it off the market, we are just waiting to here back on my mom's old house. This is the furthest we ever got. Fingers crossed, but not legs. :)