(Thanks to Suzie and Mary for this yummy recipe!)
Grease casserole dish (8 X 8 or 9 X 13)
Preheat oven to 350 degrees
Bottom:
2 c sweet potatoes (drained/ mashed)
1 c margarine
2 eggs
1/3 c Pet milk
3/4 c sugar
1 TB vanilla
(Mash sweet potatoes and add other ingredients.)
Topping:
1 c chopped pecans
1 c brown sugar
1/2 c flour
1/3 c margarine
Mix topping ingredients until crumbly. Sprinkle on top of sweet potatoes. Bake 30-35 minutes.
It is absolutely wonderful- more like a dessert
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Friday, November 2, 2012
Marriage
I got married nearly 13 years ago. I have to admit, I thought I loved him that day. Honestly, I wasn't sure if I loved him as much as he deserved. I had dated a guy who broke my heart a couple of years before I met Randy, and the whole experience left me a bit jaded, to say the least. I never regained that "innocent, happily ever after, everything will work out splendidly" outlook that I had once. (I now see that outlook synonymous to arrogance.) I didn't think enough of myself to believe that my husband wouldn't eventually regret his decision. Even after the boyfriend break-up, my criteria for a husband was straight-forward and never changed, but mostly for my future children. My mother so wisely told me growing up: "Marry a man who will raise your children in church, teaching them the Bible. You need to know that if you died while giving birth, your children would still be raised in a Godly home." So I married this extraordinarily nice man who made me laugh. He immediately came to church services with me (before we married), and he clearly had a heart of gold. And I loved him. We had fun. We waited a year and a half and we were told (at a dr's appointment to discuss possible infertility issues) that we would be parents. It was my husband's birthday. We had a girl, as Randy had predicted. Two years later we added a baby boy. And I still loved my husband. We were mostly a happy family, but I still had my own issues. I had the "baby blues" after my son was born. Just for a little while, but it was enough that I decided afterwards that if we had another baby, I would consider anti-depressants rather than "work through it" and miss out on the sheer bliss that should come with a new baby. We still had fun, but I think that we had boring, monotonous days more often. And that was okay because, in hindsight, those are often the very best days. And I still loved my husband. It wasn't always easy though. I remember telling him once, "Sometimes I love you more than I ever thought I could, and then ten minutes later, I think really bad things about you." He just laughed. I think I figured out a long time ago NOT to say anything right away when I have a complaint. Or if I am just irritated. I also figured out that whoever said not to go to sleep angry is crazy. Sometimes, after a good night's sleep, you wake up refreshed and the whole incident seems a little less important. (Might I add, a baby is a family adjustment for everyone.)
Fast forward to 2012. One more baby later (with no post-partum emotional issues, thankfully), and I still love my husband. He is still here, and he is still fully vested in our family. We are so incredibly busy, but there is a lot of love in our home. And my issues are mine- I can't dislike myself for something and assign those feelings to Randy. It isn't productive and it isn't fair.
I still have issues that just seem to grow some days. The other night I just poured out my heart to my husband. I have had a hard time the last few months, and he listened. He offered a lot of insight without judgment. I wondered why I had waited weeks to talk to him- it was like a weight had been lifted. I love and respect him so much. And I'll be honest- the day I married him was nice, but I didn't really love him then- not compared to how I feel about him now.
Fast forward to 2012. One more baby later (with no post-partum emotional issues, thankfully), and I still love my husband. He is still here, and he is still fully vested in our family. We are so incredibly busy, but there is a lot of love in our home. And my issues are mine- I can't dislike myself for something and assign those feelings to Randy. It isn't productive and it isn't fair.
I still have issues that just seem to grow some days. The other night I just poured out my heart to my husband. I have had a hard time the last few months, and he listened. He offered a lot of insight without judgment. I wondered why I had waited weeks to talk to him- it was like a weight had been lifted. I love and respect him so much. And I'll be honest- the day I married him was nice, but I didn't really love him then- not compared to how I feel about him now.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
One of the boys...(part one)
My brother Jeff is three years younger than me, and he has always been more introverted when it comes to his emotions. I think I understood him from a young age, though, and we got along well. We were the two Night Owls (out of five kids) and when school was out, we would stay up late watching Channel 7 (CBN) as they broadcasted old television shows. We watched George Burns and Gracie Allen, Jack Benny, Bachelor Father, I Married Joan, Dobie Gillis and Blondie on a regular basis. Typically we would get tired and go to bed around 2 am when the 700 Club would come on. Jeff and I, along with my younger brother Greg, would also spend every Saturday night from 10pm until midnight watching World Class Championship Wrestling (KTVT Channel 11) starring the Von Erichs. Oh, how we believed those story lines! At least to a certain degree. While other kids wanted toys from the store, my brothers always got Pro Wrestling Illustrated magazine. We played baseball together, we played tag football, and we had Friday night "snack night" when our parents would let us have sandwiches and chips for dinner while we watched The Dukes of Hazzard.
It seems like we did all of those things for years, but in the Sixth Grade I matured a little and began hanging out at the skating rink with my friends. The Von Erichs weren't my heroes any longer. The baseball and football games slowly ceased as the neighborhood grew up. Even then, it made me a little sad.
I still love my brothers dearly, and I believe that Jeff and I are still the Night Owls. He has two teenagers and two little girls, and he adores them. I have my three. We are both teachers. He is still not one to be overly emotional, but I really think that my childhood was so special- and he is a big reason.
It seems like we did all of those things for years, but in the Sixth Grade I matured a little and began hanging out at the skating rink with my friends. The Von Erichs weren't my heroes any longer. The baseball and football games slowly ceased as the neighborhood grew up. Even then, it made me a little sad.
I still love my brothers dearly, and I believe that Jeff and I are still the Night Owls. He has two teenagers and two little girls, and he adores them. I have my three. We are both teachers. He is still not one to be overly emotional, but I really think that my childhood was so special- and he is a big reason.
Monday, October 22, 2012
So Little Time...
I am completely new at "blogging". I know several friends have done it for awhile, but I never really felt like there was a need since there are so many other social media sites that keep us updated, but then I decided that this is really for ME. These words are for my reflection and enjoyment. Someday I hope to reflect on this special time and see that, although I had my moments of angst, I thoroughly enjoyed the life with which I have been blessed.
Is blogging similar to a journal? I suppose...one without the more private feelings and thoughts that I might put on paper. I try to document cute things the kids do- but the busier we get, the more often I think, "Oh, yeah...I need to remember to write that down." A week later I can't remember EXACTLY what was said, and I feel like that "moment" slipped away. And, I suppose, truthfully it did. I am learning that it is okay...I am not a horrible mom if I forgot to document the EXACT date that Elizabeth cut her sixth tooth. (I actually did that with my older two- and guess what? Not ONCE have they asked!) If Brett says something too funny, chances are, he will say something even funnier again. I think I take thousands of photos because they are moments of a diary, a "photo journal". Often, I can look at a picture and remember. A friend recently told me that we are forgotten by all roughly fifty years after our death, on average. I suppose my photos are so that I can remember and my kids will remember. But guess what? At some point, unless the good Lord returns between now and then, those pictures will be on my ancestors' family tree. Or in a trash can. I remind myself that nothing- NOT ONE THING- is more important than teaching my children about God and His plan of Salvation. I used to hear Old Testament stories when someone would be told that their ancestors would suffer, and I would think, "I don't understand that. Who cares about what happens two hundred years from now?" After having these three wonderful little souls, I GET IT. I have seen so many parents heartbroken that their grandchildren are not being reared with a reverence for God. I am hoping and praying that I instill those values in my children. I am extremely blessed that I married a man who feels the same way.
My first "baby" is 10-years-old. She is in her last year of elementary school. I have gotten the eyeroll a time or two lately, to which I quickly responded. Generally, she is extremely thoughtful and caring. If she remains this easy to raise, I will consider myself extremely lucky. She plays soccer, piano, and she sings in a childrens' choir. She is extremely creative. She makes good grades and she has a terrific work ethic. Her teachers generally love her, as she tries to exceed their expectations. (I had one teacher stop me and tell me how much he admired her self-discipline and work ethic. Wow!) She is my go-getter. In that respect, she is her daddy's daughter.
My second "baby" is 8-years-old, and my only boy. He is a Third Grader, and he does not miss a THING. Randy and I are often interrogated the next day about private discussions downstairs while he is (supposed to be) sleeping upstairs. He is gentle and feisty and loyal and talkative all wrapped up in a cute boy package. I have to remind myself that he is only a little boy because he can have some fairly deep discussions, and he is intuitive. He hates transition, but I'll leave that one alone..."He is talkative, but sweet." That is the quote I get from his teachers. He is knowledgable about quite a few things, but he has to learn (as do I, at times) to stop talking to learn more and that we can learn something from everyone.
My third baby is truly a baby at nearly 20-months-old. She is a funny, spoiled, loved little girl. That child can do ANYTHING and there is an audience of four just laughing and cheering her on. "Oh, Mom! She said my name really well that time!" "Look, Mom! She made prayer hands!" She gets so much attention. She really is funny. She has done a few quirky things nearly since birth. She seems to absolutely love music and Adele's "Someone Like You" could get her to stop crying in the car from 2-months-old on. She still gripes at us if we try to talk in the car while she is listening to her music. And the video for "Baby Mine" has been played hundreds of times since she was less than 2-months-old, to which she would immediately look at the screen wide-eyed. Her vocabulary is increasing rapidly. I love to watch her learn. Having two so much older is an adventure. I do feel a little bad that she is going to be playing by herself more than her older sibs, but it will be what she knows. It will be a little different, but it will be as good as we can make it.
As for me? I am on the cusp of 40, but that is fine. My age doesn't bother me nearly as much as my weight. I am working on that, but I can't let it define me. I am God's child, Randy's wife, Sarah's, Brett's, and Elizabeth's mama, and Mike's and Janette's daughter, as well as Julie's, Jennifer's, Jeff's, and Greg's sister (with special memories attached to each one of them). My flaws are many, but so are my strengths, though focusing on my flaws seems to take up more of my day than it should. I stick my foot in my mouth some, but am learning to do it less and less. I dwell on my mistakes. I am conflicted, yet resolved. I am a teacher (a career I love), currently on hiatus with my baby. I love, love, love my family and I thank God for them every day.
Is blogging similar to a journal? I suppose...one without the more private feelings and thoughts that I might put on paper. I try to document cute things the kids do- but the busier we get, the more often I think, "Oh, yeah...I need to remember to write that down." A week later I can't remember EXACTLY what was said, and I feel like that "moment" slipped away. And, I suppose, truthfully it did. I am learning that it is okay...I am not a horrible mom if I forgot to document the EXACT date that Elizabeth cut her sixth tooth. (I actually did that with my older two- and guess what? Not ONCE have they asked!) If Brett says something too funny, chances are, he will say something even funnier again. I think I take thousands of photos because they are moments of a diary, a "photo journal". Often, I can look at a picture and remember. A friend recently told me that we are forgotten by all roughly fifty years after our death, on average. I suppose my photos are so that I can remember and my kids will remember. But guess what? At some point, unless the good Lord returns between now and then, those pictures will be on my ancestors' family tree. Or in a trash can. I remind myself that nothing- NOT ONE THING- is more important than teaching my children about God and His plan of Salvation. I used to hear Old Testament stories when someone would be told that their ancestors would suffer, and I would think, "I don't understand that. Who cares about what happens two hundred years from now?" After having these three wonderful little souls, I GET IT. I have seen so many parents heartbroken that their grandchildren are not being reared with a reverence for God. I am hoping and praying that I instill those values in my children. I am extremely blessed that I married a man who feels the same way.
My first "baby" is 10-years-old. She is in her last year of elementary school. I have gotten the eyeroll a time or two lately, to which I quickly responded. Generally, she is extremely thoughtful and caring. If she remains this easy to raise, I will consider myself extremely lucky. She plays soccer, piano, and she sings in a childrens' choir. She is extremely creative. She makes good grades and she has a terrific work ethic. Her teachers generally love her, as she tries to exceed their expectations. (I had one teacher stop me and tell me how much he admired her self-discipline and work ethic. Wow!) She is my go-getter. In that respect, she is her daddy's daughter.
My second "baby" is 8-years-old, and my only boy. He is a Third Grader, and he does not miss a THING. Randy and I are often interrogated the next day about private discussions downstairs while he is (supposed to be) sleeping upstairs. He is gentle and feisty and loyal and talkative all wrapped up in a cute boy package. I have to remind myself that he is only a little boy because he can have some fairly deep discussions, and he is intuitive. He hates transition, but I'll leave that one alone..."He is talkative, but sweet." That is the quote I get from his teachers. He is knowledgable about quite a few things, but he has to learn (as do I, at times) to stop talking to learn more and that we can learn something from everyone.
My third baby is truly a baby at nearly 20-months-old. She is a funny, spoiled, loved little girl. That child can do ANYTHING and there is an audience of four just laughing and cheering her on. "Oh, Mom! She said my name really well that time!" "Look, Mom! She made prayer hands!" She gets so much attention. She really is funny. She has done a few quirky things nearly since birth. She seems to absolutely love music and Adele's "Someone Like You" could get her to stop crying in the car from 2-months-old on. She still gripes at us if we try to talk in the car while she is listening to her music. And the video for "Baby Mine" has been played hundreds of times since she was less than 2-months-old, to which she would immediately look at the screen wide-eyed. Her vocabulary is increasing rapidly. I love to watch her learn. Having two so much older is an adventure. I do feel a little bad that she is going to be playing by herself more than her older sibs, but it will be what she knows. It will be a little different, but it will be as good as we can make it.
As for me? I am on the cusp of 40, but that is fine. My age doesn't bother me nearly as much as my weight. I am working on that, but I can't let it define me. I am God's child, Randy's wife, Sarah's, Brett's, and Elizabeth's mama, and Mike's and Janette's daughter, as well as Julie's, Jennifer's, Jeff's, and Greg's sister (with special memories attached to each one of them). My flaws are many, but so are my strengths, though focusing on my flaws seems to take up more of my day than it should. I stick my foot in my mouth some, but am learning to do it less and less. I dwell on my mistakes. I am conflicted, yet resolved. I am a teacher (a career I love), currently on hiatus with my baby. I love, love, love my family and I thank God for them every day.
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