Saturday, September 26, 2009

The truth (and surgery) hurts....

Monday I had my gallbladder removed and yesterday Miss L had her tonsils and adenoids removed.

Last night we had several friends that stopped by or called, checking on her. Wanting her to feel every bit as loved as she is, I said, "Boy, you must be pretty special considering all the friends that are checking on you...." to which she replied, "yeah, nobody came to see you."


Friday, September 18, 2009

Maybe the drugs will help....

I need to post something yet I can't even get motivated to do it.

A couple of weeks ago we went on a float trip with family and the pressure they put on me to blog about it was incredible and I feel as if anything I write will be insufficient.

(Do you guys feel guilty yet?)

Anyway, Monday I am having surgery to remove my gallbladder. Apparently I don't need it.

I am hoping the drugs they send me home with will cause me to be inspired, or at the very least, to hallucinate.

I am planning on returning to work on Wednesday (yes, I know, I am superwoman). As much as I would love to lie around and have someone wait on me hand and foot, I realize that will never happen in a million years and I might as well lie around and get paid for it at work.

That being said, I am only going to lie around at work for a couple of days before I take off again.

This time it is Miss L who will be having all the fun. They are removing her tonsils. (Apparently you don't need those either) Something about having strep 4-5 times last year and having it twice in the last month not being ideal. Who knew?

We really know how to do it right at our house!

You know, if it weren't for my bosses and the understanding and compassion they show me, I don't know where I would be.

In fact, today, Dale told me that on Monday, Steven was welcome to swing by the funeral home prior to my surgery and pick up the funeral home suburban and a know, "just in case".

He went on to explain that it would not only save Steven money (on transportation costs), but also save him (Dale) time.

They are so awesome.......

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

I am no Pioneer Woman, but.....

Yesterday, apparently, I lost my mind.

You see, I decided to make cinnamon rolls. For me, this is about as normal as deciding to color my hair lime green.

I have never made cinnamon rolls. I have never made rolls. In fact, I have never made bread. Well, unless you count the "Amish Friendship Bread" that gets passed to me every once in a great while, and I don't. Count it, that is.


I guess I will blame it on Melanie, or "Big Mama" as she is known.

You see, I don't know her. She doesn't know me. But I read a post of hers about the cinnamon rolls she made from the Pioneer Woman's recipe (nope, don't know her either) and for some reason or another, I was inspired.

Or was it hungry?

Who knows, I so often confuse the two.

Anyway, I found myself thinking that, just maybe, I could do it: I, Kim, could bake.

(Hear the angels singing in the background?)
And so I did.
Yesterday was the day.

I pulled out the directions and went to work. The first instruction was to mix the milk, vegetable oil, and sugar in a pan....and then "scald" it.

Let me tell you here and now that I was so glad that when the "Pioneer Woman" put these directions together she obviously knew that people like me would be using them.

And by "people like me" I mean "people who don't know what 'scald' actually means".

Let me clarify. I know that when I say that I have "scalded myself", I have obviously burnt myself with a hot liquid....but I didn't know what "scald" meant in the baking sense of the word.

Thanks to her I now know that it means "heat until just before boiling point". Bless her heart.

Since I find it hard to sit still, I went ahead and started getting the other ingredients ready to be added at their appropriate times.

I was feeling very domestic as I was watching Ellen DeGeneres and MAKING CINNAMON ROLLS...... until Ellen said something funny and I looked up and lost count of how many cups of flour I had already added to the bowl.

Oh. Yes. I. Did.

I actually had to get another bowl and recount the cups as I dipped the flour back out of one bowl and put them in another.

Yes, I had added one cup too many.

This, right here, is why I don't bake: A.D.D.


I got back on track and when the time was right added the 'called for' ingredients and waited for my dough to rise. With my fingers crossed.

And it did. Rise, that is.

I then floured my counter top and separated the dough in half and started rolling. It became apparent that I hadn't quite allowed enough room and had to pinch off pieces of the dough and reposition them on the other end before flattening it with the rolling pin.

It was a very scientific process.

Here is where I feel the need to say that if you are on a diet, these rolls are not for you. That is due in part to the cup of melted butter that I then poured on the top of the dough before covering it with sugar and cinnamon.

When I started rolling the dough with my hands I realized, with my limited baking knowledge, that I probably should have put a little more flour in the dough. It was sticky and not wanting to let go of the counter.

I noticed that some of the "toppings" were oozing off the dough and rolling down the front of my cabinets and, ultimately, ending up down on my floor.

Being labeled as a "clean freak" (which I am not), I found myself wanting to clean this up immediately. With my tongue.

I added more flour to the other half of the dough which resulted in half of them looking very cinnamon roll-ish and half of them looking very cinnamon glob-ish.

Exhibit A: Cinnamon rolls

Exhibit B: Cinnamon globs

The recipe made SEVEN pans of cinnamon rolls/globs.

I put them in the oven and began making the icing. I have to say when a recipe starts out with one (whole) bag of powdered sugar, you simply can't go wrong.

Mr. B, who had wanted to get in on the action the whole time, helped by mixing the icing ingredients together until they were just right. Or he was done. Whatever came first.

I waited anxiously to see how they turned out.....and I was surprised to see this:

I mean, they actually resemble CINNAMON ROLLS. Who would have thought it?

They tasted good too. Or at least I thought so. Even the cinnamon "globs". I think the fact that Steven is now working on finishing off his second pan indicates that he does too.

He had better enjoy them because we gave the other five pans away lest I end up on next season's "The Biggest Loser". Not that I don't have self control or anything. I mean, I could totally stop eating them if I wanted to.



If you didn't get one of the five pans I gave away, and you want your own, click here for the recipe. And, trust me, if I can do it, anyone can.

Wednesday, September 09, 2009

Who knew...

Mr. B, my (just turned) four year old son, climbed up in my lap yesterday and said, without any prelude:

"Deserts are hot during the day and cold at night..."

I laughed, and said, "That is right, how did you know that?"

To which he replied, "I read it in a book."

And here I didn't even know he could read..............


After visiting Urgent Care on Monday and finding out that Mr. B had strep throat for the SECOND TIME in two weeks, and after he received a shot of antibiotics, we went to Sonic for his favorite- a grilled cheese sandwich.

We waited for what seemed like forever. Finally, the car hop brought us our order and I situated his cup in his holder and handed him his sandwich.

I turned the car on and was pulling out of the parking lot when he said, "It's not just good, it's Sonic good."

I started laughing, amazed at his ability to remember and recall the most random things. When he heard me laughing, from the back seat he declared, "That's funny right there. I don't care who you are, that's funny."

I think I may have my hands full.

Friday, September 04, 2009

Pulling his weight....

Today Steven was still home when I drug myself out of bed at 6:00 a.m.

Generally, at this time he has been gone for a good hour.

Working for himself, you would think that he would afford himself the luxury of at least waiting until daylight to start working.

No. Not my husband.

I walked into the kitchen and met him as he was coming in from the garage.

He had just changed the oil in his truck.

By. Six. O. Clock. In. The. Morning.

(I feel like such a slacker....)

"What is on your agenda today?", I asked, knowing that he never has anything BUT a full agenda.

"Well, I have to finish up a job and hang a couple of gates....then I have to go to town and get some more pipe, then I need to drop off a bill ...." as he kept talking I lost track of all the things to do on his 'to do' list.

Then he said, "I think I will take Mr. B with me".

This made me smile.

Steven is a hard worker. I have yet to meet someone who works harder.

Even more impressive is the fact that he is an outstanding father. I have yet to meet one better.

Mr. B was going to be so excited. He always is when he gets to work with his daddy.

I went into the bedroom and knelt down by the side of the bed, laying the upper portion of my body over the side, towards my baby.

He was sleeping and there is nothing as sweet, or as soft. I swept my hand along side of his face and whispered, "B, do you want to go to daycare? Or would you like to go to work with daddy today?"

My still sleeping boy (it was, after all, only six) rolled over and with his eyes still shut, a broad smile spread across his face as he whispered "daddy".


In a matter of minutes he was up, dressed, and out the door, clinging to his daddy's neck with a honey bun in his free hand.

As they loaded up preparing for the day, I began preparing for mine.

When I noticed they were about to leave I headed out to the garage and found myself at the passengers side of Steven's truck giving instructions to Mr. B.

"Make sure daddy drives safe."

"Mind daddy."

"Be good."

"Work hard."

The last one got a response. "I do work hard everyday. In my dirtpile."

And it is true. This boy of mine does work very hard at staying dirty.

Even though his 'work day' had yet to begin, I was pretty sure I knew what it held:

Chocolate milk,

dirty boots,

.....and big smiles.

You know, I always was a sucker for man who wasn't afraid to jump in and get his hands dirty.

Thursday, September 03, 2009

What a day....

This morning at 1:00 I was awakened by Steven shifting in the bed and Miss L crawling into the middle of us.

I could see his profile in the dark as he said, "She's hot."

"Mama, my head hurts really bad and my throat is sore."


We had finished ten days of amoxicillan a mere 36 hours before this to treat the strep throat that she developed only two days into the school year.

I was certain it was back. And I was right.

Miss L and strep throat go way back.....
A shot and a referral to an ear, nose, throat doctor later, one thing became painfully clear.

Between my gallbladder issues, Mr. B having his ear tube removed and Miss L possibly losing her tonsils, I am going to go out on a limb and say that we will have more than our share of medical deductions this year on our taxes.

Isn't that worth something?

Yeah, you are right. It isn't.

Wednesday, September 02, 2009

Little teeth, big repercussions

Monday, on arriving at daycare to pick up Miss L, I found that a monumental moment had occured during the school hours, away from me and my watchful eye.

Yes, at the age of 6, she had lost her first tooth.

As she greeted me at the door with a jump and a finger pointing to the gaping hole in her mouth, she exclaimed, "I LOST MY TOOTH!"

I congratulated her, hugged and kissed her, and took a picture with my cell phone to send to her daddy. She knew he would be excited too.

Since her daddy was working out of town and unable to join in the happy occasion, we invited MiMi and Papa, and Uncle Jason and Aunt Sissy to come over, eat pizza and celebrate this important moment.


Underneath all of the celebratory happenings I was a little sad.

It felt too official. Almost as if, now, there really was no turning back.

She is growing up. Period.

Almost as sad is the fact that this is, indeed, the beginning of the ugly, awkward period that follows.

(Did I just "say" that?)

(I will NEVER admit to saying that.....)

I can't be alone on this. We have all been there.

The cute, innocence of childhood starts eroding away and in its place is left too large, too crooked teeth and an "I know it all" adolescent that is seven going on seventeen......

OK, maybe that is an exaggeration.

Or, maybe it isn't.

Hopefully, for Miss L, the awkwardness (and the attitude) won't last too long.

Because, we all know, that if she takes after her mother, the awkwardness will follow her well into adulthood and the attitude won't be far behind.



For now, I choose to focus on the positive and embrace the joy that Miss L felt upon finally losing her tooth. She had, after all, been "wanting to lose a tooth for, like, the last five years."

And, right now, that is all that matters.