Bad Hair (Every)Day

Yah. I have a really bad haircut. Like really bad. Like Courteney-Cox-playing-Monica-on-"Friends"-in-1998 haircut. It's so bad.

I never intended to go down this path, but here I am. It almost makes getting up in the morning the worst idea ever, because no matter what I do, it just doesn't look good.

I've always been one to be whimsical with my hair, knowing full well that it will grow back. I had it long, up until first grade when I wanted it cut short like a boy. I have no idea why my mom thought it would be okay for a 7-year-old to make such drastic decisions, but I think I was the third child and at that point, she knew it wasn't going to hurt anything. So that was an awesome period in my life that no one ever brings up or makes fun of me for. Ever. Not once. Not even the time when we found an old figure skating picture of me and my sister wearing these really fru-fru costumes and basically it looked like someone dressed up a little boy in drag. Nope, everyone was very complimentary and extremely poised when reminiscing about that skating number. It was also the one where they paired me up with the only other little boy in our group. Yes, super supportive they all were.

I've had it long, short, medium, brown, blonde, brown with blonde, blonde with brown, bangs, no bangs, layers, and bobs. It's like I'm 7-years-old again when I go to the salon, I have this great idea in my head, because I saw it on someone that looked nothing like me and was somehow able to see myself rocking that same look. Sometimes I nail it, other times it bites the dust.

This time it bit dust. Hard.

I decided that I was going to save a little money and hold off on a haircut when I got back to Minnesota for Christmas and go to a girl I had gone to several years ago. I am also trying to grow my hair out for Casey's brother's wedding in June. My latest style was extremely cute, but I couldn't put it up in a ponytail and that's a deal breaker. I thought, a little trim to even out the inverted bob and a refresher brown color did not seem complicated, not even that inspiring, either.

I will say that I just love the girl who did my hair. We are the same age, we both have kids, she dresses so stylishly, and we have so much to talk about when I get my hair done. The experience in her self-owned hipster salon is awesome, and I think that's why I keep coming back. I forget that her haircuts are not that great.

After cutting for what seemed like seven-too-many minutes, she blow-dryed my hair, but stopped before it was completely dry. I know that it's better for your hair if you don't dry it completely, but if I allow just a little moisture to hang out, something from 1987 springs to life and I all of a sudden have a body wave. To finish the look, she only halfway straightened it and did no bumping, teasing, and spraying, which is essential in my hair-doing. When it was all over, I was still laughing from our conversation about TOMS that I was smiled and said, "Oh, great. Thanks so much." I paid her and left.

When I got home, I realized that it wasn't that great. The ends were not blended well and the layers were very obvious. I thought that perhaps the next day, I would do it myself and it would look better. It did not and again, I looked like seventh roommate on "Friends". When we got back to Phoenix, I himmed and hawed over the style and have been using bobby pins and lots of hairspray to try and make it look cute. Just recently, I decided to buy a new flat iron because my other one wasn't straightening that well, anyway, and it was my last hope. It helped somewhat, but something was still amiss.

So now I am contemplating. Do I ride this haircut out, feeling like a frumpy mom that's stuck in her high school years or do I bite the bullet and make an appointment at my regular salon to pay $50 for my snotty stylist just to blend and contour? Part of me is saying, yes, of course it's worth it. But the other part of me is saying, maybe in a couple months it will grow out and my next haircut will be done right.

Ugh! Decisions, decisions! Until I do make that final decision, you can find me sipping a coffee at Central Perk.

Fo' Sale Fo' Sure

Ever sold a house? I'm a FTHS (a first time house seller). After living in this "starter" house for almost five years, we have terribly outgrown its walls and need to find a place where I can have a desk, not a converted dining room closet that we made into an office. Which is actually really charming, I'm not going to lie.

To be frank, this house was a POS when we bought it. A single guy, that we are sure had some hoarding tendencies, was the previous owner. There was ugly wallpaper hung all over, brown 1984 tile, outdated brass lighting, and dirty carpeting. And we paid entirely too much for it in 2007, before "it" happened. You know, the economy. It was either this very unloved, tiny home or a glorified apartment they were selling as "condos". We opted for an actual house that needed a lot of TLC.

"It has good bones." We reassured eachother. And it was fun to look through magazines and envision a similar look in a room 5 times smaller. But those things cost a lot of money to change, so we did what we could, when we could afford it, while working full-time and paying a huge mortgage to boot. I can't even tell you how many Christmases and birthdays we asked for fans, mirrors, lights, and appliances. Bonuses were for the big ticket items like curbing and replacing the patio.

I often wondered, "What were we thinking?" as we repainted every wall and cabinet, replaced all the lighting, installed new floors and an air conditioner, and carefully planned the backyard. I apologize, I did none of this. Casey did it all, but I was an excellent pointer outer of the things that needed to be changed. When the house was finally looking good, I just couldn't be satisfied. The bathroom and kitchen cabinets, the master bathtub, the windows, the sliding glass doors all needed to be replaced and the list continued to grow and grow.

Enter baby. All of a sudden the house's walls got smaller and it felt like we were packed in like sardines. A 2-bedroom home should be enough space for 3 people, but it's not. If you have kids, you especially know what I mean. Kids have lots and lots and lots of crap. And they have lots of clothes. I'm talking a change of clothes for 2 months straight without repeating. Not only that, they get a new wardrobe every 3 months. Clothes, toys, and baby items were being shoved in corners, in closets, in gargage shelves, and under beds.

Needless to say, we realized that our cute little fixer-upper was not meant to raise a family and we never really intended to stay in this house for very long. But, you know, with the economy and all, we didn't really know if it was the right decision to go through the scariness that our parents would never dream of doing...like short selling or even FORECLOSING on a home! However, it's 2012 and what more can I say?

After recieving some very sound advice from an expert in the field, we have taken the plunge. We are giving the next buyer a 50% discount from what we paid! Aren't we so kind? I haven't been a home buyer in the new real estate situation, so I don't know what people are looking for or what they see out there. All I know is my little house and all the blood, sweat, and tears that [Casey] did to make it our home.

It's a process of vulnerability. We want to let people know how good this house has it now. How far this little lady has come from five years ago and the steal they are getting with her current price tag. But people are ten times more critical than I am to her. They, too, see all her flaws, like there isn't tile in the master shower and the windows need to be updated. I want to tell people about the chapter we have written in this home. We want them to see the good qualities that we really tried to emphasize with the little bit of money that we had. It's the first home we bought and came home to after we got married. It's where we brought home our first baby and gave him his first bath in the kitchen sink. We want this home to be nurtured and loved the way we have in the last five years.

But it isn't like that. It's stressful as we try to keep the house immaculate, putting its best foot forward, just in case people want to look at it. It's terribly difficult with a toddler running around specifically removing those items that I have placed just so. I am rearranging nap times to accomodate their schedules. And I can tell when shower curtains have been moved and closet doors have been opened after a showing. Let's hope none of them assume the dresser is included in the home, no one needs to be rummaging through my undies! You never know, though.

I want to ask them what they think and tell them the story about how we made the house better. I also don't want to know what they think, because seriously, whatever, they can suck it. I hope the house gets sold quickly to a person who will continue to make the house look warm, cozy, and inviting.

However, this is the nature of the beast and we are at the mercy of these fine folks who might perhaps want to buy it so we can move on in our lives, too. If you, or anyone you know is looking for a great, affordable 2-bedroom home in the Southeast Valley of Phoenix, AZ, please come on through!

A Recipe to Share

I have another recipe for everyone and by everyone I mean even my vegetarian friends, that's how aware I am of my readers, all four of you.

I am stealing it from Clean Eating Magazine. If you don't have a subscription, I highly recommend it. Ask for it for your next birthday or Christmas present. Our meals are usually cooked from those magazines. The only downfall is when you make something really good from it, then you can't remember which magazine it was in or what page it was on. I'm sure that could be easily remedied by simply writing them down in a little booklet. That would be too easy, right?

This recipe is perfect for everyone because we had it for dinner, but you can make it and keep it for lunches, and it's contents can be completely altered to your liking! I loved it, Casey did not, but I know how I would change it so he would like it.

Quinoa Bowl

3 c. dry quinoa
1 c. cilantro, chopped
1 pint cherry tomatoes, halved
1 can of black beans, drained
2 avacados, diced
4 limes, juiced (this may be a little less depending on if you like citrus)
zest of 1 lime

Dressing:
1/4 c. olive oil
1/4 c. white vinegar or rice vinegar (I used rice.)
2 or 3 cloves of garlic, minced
sea salt and pepper to taste


Here's how you make it:

1. Cook the quinoa so it's nice and fluffy...I cook it in about 2 c. water, bring to a boil, put a lid on it, turn down the heat and let it cook through. Then I fluff it with a fork.

2. While quinoa is cooking, dump beans, tomatoes, and cilantro into the bowl you are going to use to serve/store it in.

3. Chop avacados, put in a small bowl and squeeze a little lime juice over them so they don't brown.

4. Make the dressing by putting olive oil, vinegar, garlic, salt and pepper into a food processor or a mini chopper until it gets all blended and creamy looking. Keep it to the side.

5. When the quinoa is done cooking, squeeze the limes and put in the zest and stir. HERE IS WHERE I LOST CASEY. He doesn't like lemon or lime to take over a dish. I like it. I squeezed 'em all, but next time I make it, I'll probably just squeeze one or two. Add a little salt and pepper to it.

6. Dump quinoa into the tomato/bean mixture and stir. Pour the dressing on and stir it up again. Top with avacados.

I loved it. Casey would have liked less lime and some chicken diced up in it. You could add green beans or asparagus or whatever else you think would make you love it.

There are lots of leftovers, the magazine said it's 12 servings, but in our house, that translates to about 6...we aren't trying to lose weight or anything, we like being a little thick, you know. Casey is going out of town for the next 4 days, so Shannon and I will eat it happily as lunch!

Bon appetit!

School's in for the Summer

School is starting in a week and a half. Can you believe it? Where did the summer go? In Minnesota, I bet you are quizzically furrowing your eyebrows and thinking that there is another month of summer to enjoy. I was once a believer that summer was June, July, and August. However, in Arizona, summer is May, June, July, August, and September. These poor kids are stuck inside their summer break because it's too hot to even breathe! There are no kids riding their bikes around the neighborhood, no mamas pushing their strollers to the park, and no kids running drills on soccer fields. Since we have such dormant summers, they start school EXTRA early.

I don't have to go back to work. Ha! Not until September 5th, when the rest of the country starts the day after Labor Day. You are probably excited and smiling for me that I get to have time with Tommy at home. And goodness knows I deserve the time off because I hoarded my sick days and didn't take any personal days for the last two years so I could have a full pay maternity leave. I accomplished that, plus another six weeks, just in case.

Unfortunately, this job doesn't just start itself. I accepted a fifth grade position for this year and had to move rooms down a different hallway. I also knew that I wasn't going to start the school year either, which adds some extra stress to this big mess. The end of last year, I was one week away from giving birth (technically 3 days) and I was hauling boxes, books, and binders down the hall with my students dragging the really big items. I dumped it in the hallway outside the door where the teacher whose classroom I was taking had not even started packing up her room. When I left on May 26th, I was relieved to be done, but anticipating the mess I would walk into come the end of July with a small baby.

As much as I never want the end of my break to come, there is some excitement to setting up my classroom. Have you ever moved and packed up your things over a period of time and then when you unpacked your boxes in your new place, you are always surprised by a few items? That's what it's kind of like when I set up my classroom each year. Oh, I had forgotten about you, I say to some hot pink fabric. And this new Eric Carle border will compliment you so well. I buy new punch out letters that have a great pattern on them. How super fun will you look on my walls? I spend long hours and late nights painstakingly stapling up all my bulletin boards, borders, lettering, posters, and pocket charts. I use my best creative handwriting to write "Mrs. Huberty" on my welcome poster. I can't wait to get my hands on my class list so I can finally write out nameplates for their desks. I put together their supply buckets neatly and make sure all their Crayola crayons have pointy tips and none of their scissors have glue or tape stuck to the metal. The room is always colorful, inviting, a little overwhelming at first, but totally awesome.

This year didn't have the same excitement and attention to detail that I always try and improve upon each year. Trips to Target were late this season because I can't take Tommy in public. The Lakeshore trip was uneventful as I grabbed my usual supplies, but nothing extra to save a little money. I was given two small windows of time that my sister would be able to watch Tommy during the day last week. I would drive 40 minutes down to Casa Grande and run into my room--literally, I was jogging with the flatbed cart down the hallway so I wouldn't waste any time. I locked my door and turned up Glee Volume 1.

The first day I scrubbed, wiped and dusted all my shelving and organizers (those things get dusty in a year!). I threw things in piles and pushed all my desks and chairs to the center of the room. It has been quite liberating to not be pregnant, I've gone back to my old obnoxious carrying-and-pushing-things-that-I-really-shouldn't ways. When I left that first day, I felt a bit defeated and my muscles ached. There was no way I could revive this classroom in the little time that I had. The next day I again ran to my classroom and I started unpacking boxes. I didn't marvel at their old newness or attempt to conjure up old memories. They were put into a pile in a general location where they would be later. I hauled things out, I tossed out anything that looked like crap, I sorted books and all of my curriculum and when I left, it still looked like a tornado had passed through it. How did four hours go by like five minutes? Again, I left feeling tired, but at least my mess was an organized one.

This week I knew I only had two days to whip my classroom together. It was a big day yesterday. I'm no spring chicken and this is my sixth year putting together a classroom. I ran and I was literally out of breath stapling with such haste. Fabrics were flying up at lightning speed, borders were quickly disguising my poor cutting jobs. Lettering was signifying all of my focus walls for all subjects. I organized my desk into neat purple plastic boxes. I had things in cubbies and my teacher manuals lined up in order. I left again four hours later with a sweaty brow and somewhat of a classroom.

Oh, but today....today was huge! My sister came with me and we brought the little monster. We didn't really know how it would go, but alas, with a constant parade of visitors in the room, the two of us finished the room. One would feed Tommy while the other put together supply buckets. One would cuddle Tommy while the other cut folders. Both of us would staple while Tommy was in his swing sleeping. Tommy watched from his bouncy seat as I arranged the desks and stacked chairs.

As we were just packing up to leave (with carrier, stroller, bouncy chair, travel swing, diaper bag, breast pump and two purses in tow) my principal and our school's reading coach walked into my room. It was the true test. I took a deep breath as they surveyed my room. I crossed my fingers as they took in each wall and corner.

"Oh, my gosh!" they said with shocked voices. Was it good or was it bad? Smiles spread across their faces. They couldn't believe that I had taken four walls, piled up furniture, and my mess shoved into a corner and created my masterpiece. They said it was perfect. It was ready for my substitute to come in and start the year. It was bright, it was inviting, it was a little overwhelming at first, and it was TOTALLY AWESOME.

What a relief to have it done. And just before I left, I put in my final touch and hung up a picture. Casey and Tommy sitting together and smiling pleasantly back at me. Now it was the perfect classroom.

WHEW!

I Scream, You Scream and it isn't for Ice Cream

I may go nuts. Literally, I may have to check myself into the nearest mental health facility very soon. It's probably really quiet there. They will probably have drugs stronger than Tylenol that will make me very sleepy and I will take them without reservation. I will be their best patient as I tell the psychiatrist EVERYTHING from my extremely uneventful childhood to what brought me to my current state. Screaming.

Why does my baby scream? When I gave birth (a different story all together), Tommy came out with one eye open, like he was winking at me. It was like he knew. He didn't cry and it made the delivery nurses a little nervous. There was a little whimpering, but after a close examination, he checked out as a very healthy baby boy.

"Oh, you are so lucky he doesn't cry that much! I hope this is a sign of what's to come!" one nurse exclaimed as he lay contently in my arms.

And he didn't really cry that much the first week we brought him home. We even went to church that first week--to church! Tommy really was the perfect baby. I praised the heavens for this good karma, I knew opening doors for people and always returning my cart to the cart corral was going to pay off. Here it was, my perfect baby.

He's still perfect, buuuuuut, there are a few minor adjustments I would suggest if he could understand me. After a couple of weeks, we had ourselves a squealer. Is that even a word? I don't know, but his ear piercing screeches can sometimes only be heard by the barking dogs next door. We would cringe after feeding him, not knowing what to expect after dispensing liquids down his throat. Will he burp and go to sleep? Will he cry inconsolably? Will he just plain scream?

It was usually the last one. As new parents, we will do ANYTHING to make the crying/screaming/screeching stop. We gave each other tips on how to possibly tame the beast. I suggested to Casey to hold him at a 45 degree angle not quite directly under the fan, but more at a three o'clock stance and to put his pinkie into the hole of the pacifier and gently bounce, but not too aggressively because one time it worked for me. Later on that evening, or maybe it was early the next morning, when Tommy was testing out his pipes again, Casey recommended that I hold him like Simba from the "Lion King" and move him in a swooshing motion, while saying "heeeeeeey" in a really deep voice.

We were desperate for him to stop screaming. I called the pediatrician and I think they just humored me and gave him a prescription for heartburn and said to put a little rice cereal in his breast milk. It was awesome the first day. He was actually pleasant to be around and we played in his Boppy. Then he stopped pooping. Besides our world revolving around his screaming, it is also very much affected by his poop. Which there was none. For three days. After reading the information packet, it turned out constipation was a side effect of the medicine and the rice cereal. We asked ourselves what's worse--a screaming baby with heartburn or a screaming baby with painful constipation? We loaded Tommy back up again to the pediatrician to get an expert answer and she recommended to stop the rice cereal and continue the medication. Righty-o, we obediently responded.

I wish I could say that it's been smooth sailing ever since. I am a stay-at-home mom that literally stays at home. We can't leave the house. Tommy has taken it upon himself to scream everywhere and anywhere that does not have a My Little Lamb Cradle 'n Swing. No shopping trips to the grocery store or Target--he screams. No quick errands to the post office--straight up screaming. No indoor walking track--cry/scream combo. No visiting homes that don't have his swing--you guessed it. As of now, we have three locations where minimal screaming takes place: our house, his Uncle Ryan and Aunt Trena's house (only because they have all the luxuries of home plus more), and the pediatrician's office. I am dreading a playdate I agreed to this Friday where we are going to walk at the mall and have lunch...ha! In my dreams this will have a pleasant ending!


It's difficult to feel happy when the walls of your little house feel like they are closing in at a rapid pace. I have had so many suggestions and advice given to me which I graciously accept, but until experiencing the screaming first-hand, it's difficult to understand the magnitude of it all. I can mostly read his screams and when we are at home, I can tend to the scream immediately. While in the grocery store, my resources are limited and my arm count is still only at two, which makes it almost impossible to hold him and push the cart...trust me, I've tried!

I want to enjoy him when he is so little, as everyone has also told me to do, but how do you enjoy a screaming baby? I feel more like I'm doing damage control and praying that he will just go to sleep, so then at least he won't scream. I get angry with Casey for being even 15 minutes late. I am losing my mind a little bit and wondering if I really was ready for all of this. How come other mom bloggers have really awesome kids that only sometimes act up and always pose perfectly for pictures? Where is my "mom gene" hiding that I can't lovingly and patiently accept my healthy baby with a screaming problem? I think it's lodged in some of this belly fat I'm still trying to lose.

It's My Duty to Rock this Booty!

I think this title may have some sexual connotations, however, that isn't why I wrote it. The truth of the matter is my booty is getting big. My thighs are rubbing a little too quickly and often times are excusing each other as they "brush" past.

I need to face some facts. This is not how I envisioned my pregnancy to be. I'm pretty upset with myself right now and can't believe that I've let myself go. I may just become a regular Kate Hudson, with a 70 pound pregnancy weight gain, which isn't a fair comparison because my starting weight wasn't 90 pounds.

I forgive myself for October and most of November. I couldn't move and anything unrelated to the couch or my bed was too much to handle. But I feel SOOO much better these days. There is no excuse!

I was a work-out gal before this baby thing happened. Four to five times a week I had my little routines. Monday was running 2-3 miles and an hour long yoga class, Tuesday was my weight lifting class with either the elliptical or a yoga class before it, Wednesday was my running and yoga again, and Thursday was elliptical and weightlifting class. Don't even touch my Saturday mornings. It was a hardcore run or weightlifting class followed by the most intense power yoga class ever. I was in heaven everytime I left the gym at 12:00.

One would think that I weighed 120 pounds with this much exercise, but I'm an eater. I love food and ate enough to maintain a healthy weight around 133 pounds. Good enough, I thought!

Since feeling much better, I'm back to my lovely eating ways sans exercise. Whoops. I don't have that kind of metabolism to eat that much without some physical counteraction. I am mad at myself. I don't know what has been keeping me from walking through the doors of LA Fitness, but I have been terrified to go. It was like I had this new body. It wasn't as tone or strong. I couldn't get on the treadmill and start running at 6.0 like I used to, I couldn't walk into my weightlifting class and push myself as hard as before, and seriously, would a yoga class be that beneficial? I can't lay on my stomach or bend as well. Can I even do a push-up anymore? I didn't even want to find out!

Shame on me!! I know better than that! I was making up stinkin' excuses! I fell off the wagon. Even if there wasn't a baby in my belly, I would still have a thousand other excuses why I'm not going. I hate when this happens.

So I've worked out two days in a row today and they weren't filled with hardcore runs or weightlifting, but the elliptical machine and those dainty weightlifting machines I used to scoff at. I'm so proud of myself. It isn't about my thighs rubbing together or my butt getting big, it's about having a more successful labor and delivery and a more content baby. It's about not getting gestational diabetes and making it so much easier to take the weight off after the baby comes.

The reasons for working out before were probably a lot more vanity-driven. Now I need to shift paradigms and create new exercise routines for new goals these next few months. I bought a prenatal yoga video that I feel more comfortable doing that keeps those goals in mind. If you have any ideas that helped with your pregnancy, labor, delivery, or post-partum, leave me a comment. I need a new kind of help with my routine!

You Can't Make These Things Up

This class makes me laugh. I can't say that enough. I will give my 2 favorite examples. This little boy below, we'll call him "Chris", was waiting for me outside on Monday morning wearing these glasses. After taking off his coat, he went into full Steve Urkel mode with the voice and the walk. You can't not take a picture of it. I had tears in my eyes.

Another day before a long weekend, I let the kids clean out their desks right before the end of the day. I gave them a Lysol wipe to clean the inside and top of their dirty little desks. I also have a feather duster that I brought out and told them they could use it. The girls love using the duster, there's something sort of domestic about a feather duster that attracts young girls, I don't know why. The kids finished cleaning their desks, picking up the floor, and stacking their chairs. They were ready to go home and I sent them on their merry ways. I went to do outside duty and when I returned this was left on my desk:

It says "Baby come back" from the Swiffer commercial. I died.

I believe that laughing is a must in teaching. It's hard to pinpoint what humor does for children, but I just love their sarcasm sometimes! It's not malicious or rude, just funny and....experimental.

One of my students came back from the bathroom yesterday told me that another young boy put up his middle finger by the water fountain. Now, I know that I could hunt down that first grader and let him have it, but I just nodded my head. One of my fifth graders supplied us with the punchline we were in need of: "He sounds pleasant." All the kids started laughing and I couldn't help but join them.

What else could I do? We all got over it in .2 seconds and went on with our afternoon. So much easier.

Really? A Decade?

It's amazing to think that ten years has passed. Well, my ten-year class reunion was a reminder that a decade had truly passed as a legal adult. I am going to copy a great idea from a friend of mine, www.mamanash.blogspot.com, and ponder my last ten years.

2000: I was making horrible decisions and "getting things out of my system" with a fake ID my second semester of freshman year at the University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire. (Hey, I'm just being honest!) My sophomore year, I moved off campus to an awful dilapidated house with three other girls. OMG. How am I still alive?

2001: Moved into a big, beautiful, charismatic house my junior year with 6 other girls. It was quite the experience, but filled with some wonderful memories. I also decided that I did not want to go into journalism anymore and officially changed my major to elementary education.

2002: Met Casey and knew I was going to marry him. I worked at Holiday Home Camp on Lake Geneva, WI that summer. I decided that I liked the inner-city children, it was all so new to me!

2003: Had to transfer to St. Cloud State University in January to finish my degree. I was terribly depressed to leave halfway through my senior year. I had no friends and completely submersed myself in school. The long-distance relationship with Casey was never easy.

2004: Continued to work very hard in school, did several classroom experiences, and was accepted into the Urban Block program for that fall. I moved down to Minneapolis and was so happy to be closer to my friends and Casey. My student teaching in northeast Minneapolis was a wonderful learning experience.

2005: I finished my student teaching and graduated Summa Cum Laude. I was offered a 5th grade position at Evergreen Elementary School in Casa Grande, AZ. It was a whirlwind moving down to Phoenix with Carla, putting together my classroom, and starting my first year of teaching.

2006: I successfully finished my first year of teaching and soon after Casey and I were engaged. That fall they moved the fifth grade team over to a brand new school, Desert Willow, while they renovated Evergreen. I loved my new school and my class! I also started doing yoga and taking my health a little more seriously, thankfully!

2007: Before the school year ended I accepted a second grade position to stay at Desert Willow. Casey and I were married on July 21st, but bought our first house just three weeks before. It reminded me of that first house I lived in my sophomore year! We spent much of our time fixing it up. I also had an awful class that year and swore I never wanted to teach again. This was a tough second half of the year.

2008: Casey's brother, Tim, and got married to Steph. Now I wasn't alone with the Huberty last name! I finished that year of school and spent a lot of time that summer studying better ways to teach second graders. It paid off and I had a wonderful class that fall and I was much more prepared! BTW, we were still fixing up our house. The best part of that year came at the end when my niece, Colbie, was born.

2009: I finished that year of school floating on a little cloud. I was getting the hang of second grade! I had a great time being home that summer two different times. Then the phone call from my principal came offering me a position to teach a multi-age ELL classroom. I accepted the position with a lot of uncertainty, but it ended up being a blessing. Casey and I had our prayers answered in September when we found out we were pregnant! It was a tough couple months that I have literally blacked out, but now we are so excited.

2010: The first three days have already been perfect. As I sit here writing this entry, my wonderful husband is sleeping on the couch next to me, with our cat curled up at his feet. We have a cute little house to call our own, two jobs to go to tomorrow (as much as we sometimes don't want to go), food in our fridge, and a little baby in my belly.

I know that this year will probably be one of the most memorable years for us. It will probably come with its share of joys and heartaches. We know that our gift is not certain and anything can happen between now and June 1st. Each year that has passed we have become closer with our families, realized that our parents are our heroes, and decided that we need God for most everything. These things make life a bit more manageable.

Happy New Year!

Don't Worry, Be Happy

Ha! No Sunday night blues for me tonight! On Friday afternoon I finished school and was able to leave almost immediately and enjoy my two week break.

Don't get me wrong, this didn't just fall upon my lap because I am so awesome. I had to stay late almost every day this week frantically correcting papers, entering grades, and putting together my report cards. On Thursday night at 6:45, I let out a loud "Whoo-hoo!!" to announce to the janitors that I was finished with my report cards. Too bad they were busily vaccuuming to relish in my great accomplishment. Oh, well, I would rub it in everyone's face the next morning at school.

Second quarter is thankfully one of the best quarters, littered with a week long fall break in the beginning, Veterens' Day, Thanksgiving break, and Christmas break. It's glorious! However, I felt like I was hardly at school this quarter. It was the start of my first trimester from you-know-where: I had a few doctor appointments, a three-day ELL conference, and I took a mini-vacation to San Diego with Casey. My students would ask me if I was going to be at school for the whole week and would groan when I would start my sentence with, "Wellll...."

Poor babies. Really, I felt terrible for not being there. I've always prided myself with being present at my job. It's far more annoying to put together sub plans than to just tough out a sick day, which I hardly ever was...although, I am guilty of a rare "mental health day," but who isn't?

From my out-of-character absenteeism and no energy after coming home, my stack of papers kept creeping higher and higher. Again, it wasn't like me to let this happen. I felt like a hoarder. My stack of papers was my embarassement and humiliation, but when I looked at it, it was almost too much. Where do I even start? Spelling tests? Vocabulary assessments? Writing was totally out of the question, way to overwhelming to pour over each paper. So there they sat, hidden in the corner of my room.

Then the email came from Ms. Sandy, the school's secretary. "School Master is open to enter your grades for report cards. Report cards are due to me on Monday, January 4th." OMG. I couldn't believe it, had I slacked the entire quarter only to find out the day we return from winter break I have to have everything properly graded and entered into the system? I never want to be the one that authority has to tsk, so I told Casey the last week of school not to expect me home until late each night. There was no way I was going to come in over my break and do this like so many other teachers were planning to do.

And I just did it. I sat there with my stack that started over mid-calf, I pulled out the easy things to grade and enter, then the things that take more time, then the writing, and finally reading centers. It took ten hours over a three-day period. But that Thursday night I was extremely proud of myself. I corrected things thoroughly, I entered them properly, and I even wrote very specific, positive, and constructive comments for each of my students. (This is actually a really big deal, there are some teachers that only write one or two sentences that are very generic. I always think about each child and their home..."How do I put this delicately?" is my ultimate question for those tough cases.)

Now I am happy. I am not worried. Bobby Ferron and I will sing his song together and I will have a huge smile on my face the entire time. I will listen to the Vikings as I type this, I will stay up late to watch some trashy shows on E!, and I will wait patiently for those sweet little kicks from Baby H. That's the only thing I want to worry about.

Did I learn my lesson? Maybe...sometimes these things happen and at least I know that I have a little fire in me to get the job done right, just not the way it probably should have been done!

I Remember When...

..exactly one year ago I received a text from my brother at one in the morning, telling me that Trena was in labor and was going to have the baby around five. I quickly called my mom and dad and sister so we could pray, pray, pray for a healthy delivery. We were so excited for our "first" to be born. Not even an hour later a picture message came through on my phone and the most beautiful image of sweet Colbie swaddled in her little bassonette filled my tiny phone screen. I screamed and woke up Casey (who let's be honest, was possibly still drunk from going to the Vikings/Cardinals game). I was officially an aunt!

I love that I was one of the first people to hold her, that I got to see her second diaper changed, and that from the start I knew she was perfect! Colbie has brought so much joy to our family and we love her!

Happy first birthday to a precious little doll!

My First Sorority: Baby Baby Baby

Look, I'm writing again! I just needed to give myself that pat on the back! Now that I can openly talk about the belly that I was once hiding like a celebrity, I feel like I have so much to say but I can't think of it all!

Life has been good. Creating life has not been so easy. From week 6 until week 11, I don't even know the person that I was. I was taken over by an alien. Seriously. I don't even know how I got through the day. Let's be honest, some days I didn't without a long nap and a good cry. Despite the fact that I could sleep on command, every type of food made my skin crawl and I constantly felt like throwing up, but awesomely enough, I couldn't do it! There I would sit with that feeling always sitting in my stomach every day and every night. Then I would wake up every once in a while feeling normal and get really scared that something was wrong and pray that I would feel like poo, so at least I knew I was still pregnant. I didn't even know if that was normal, but apparently it is.

Which leads me into my next thought. Pregnancy probably has not changed since the beginning of time: most women feel icky, some do not, some babies survive, sadly, others do not. However, since my mother gave birth to me, she had to rely on faith that her little baby was okay and that God was in charge, she just had to do her best staying healthy. She had no ultrasound, no Downs Syndrome tests or Trisomy tests, and she certainly did not have the latest edition of What to Expect When You're Expecting to check to make sure it was normal when changes were taking place.

However, one thing is for certain when someone new is having a baby: you are invited into a sorority of women who have shared the same experience.

I. Am. Profoundly. Lucky.

I am surrounded and supported by the most beautiful people, and it's really not limited to those who have had children, either. Before getting pregnant, I had heard stories of other women having all sorts of issues with unsolicited advice being given, jealousy amongst family members and friends, or scary stories of pregnancy.

I can say that none of that has been true. Despite the fact that I felt super icky, which was no one's fault, just normal hormonal changes, I have had the most positive pregnancy. To start, the grandmas couldn't be more excited. To feel like we are giving a gift to two women who do so much for me and Casey is a wonderful feeling. My sister-in-law Trena and I are a month apart with our due dates. One would think that there may be animosity and spotlight stealing (as read and heard about before), however, there couldn't have been more joy. We are a support system for each other and I rely on her to answer those weird questions for me.

During this time, I have found out that a few other close friends are due with babies around the same time. Too cool. Again, another group of women to talk and laugh about those funny things going on "down there."

I have wonderful friends that have had children and are another place that I find new advice, baby items, and maternity clothes (thank you, Jenny, Heather and Trena!). Even my friends with no babies are so excited and will do anything to help. My sister-in-law, Steph, loves to talk about all the parts of pregnancy and babies and I couldn't love her more for her excitement to be an auntie!

My mom certainly did not have the internet when she was having her babies. It seems like I can google anything and someone has felt it, questioned it or experienced it. One place that was surprisingly not-so-supportive, yet set up to be the ultimate source of support for pregnant women, was the Baby Center website. It was the site that was recommended to me by a few formerly pregger ladies. It is great for getting the week-by-week information and little newsletter posts about how to eat, why we need to brush our teeth, etc. Then one day I looked at the posts that people write or ask questions about their pregnancy or raising their children. Some comments and questions were the same things that I thought about, too. I didn't leave comments, but I would read other people's opinions. Today I decided to look at my next week's baby information and looked at the current postings that others left. I was horrified to read the entries and comments that these mothers left about any subject. Many were very confrontational and accusational in their tone. It was horrifying to read! I even read some of them to Casey, who just shook his head. Yikes!

I decided that I was too lucky of a girl to get myself wrapped up in that drama. One of the first pieces of advice that was given to me was to avoid stress and stay positive. You know my sensitivity issues, so that did not seem like a place for me to get involved. I would take the important information that the site gave me and call up the women in my life, who I knew would give me a loving and supportive answer to my question when I had one. Some answers a book or a website can't give me, sometimes I just need a good friend, a sister, or a mother to reassure me that everything will be okay and if it's not, they will still be there, too. I wouldn't call that place a support system, what I have is a support system...the most rock solid, loving, supportive system a girl could have. You all make me say, "Yay for babies!"

A Dinner so Easy, a Caveman Could Do It

Up until about a year and half ago, I was not into cooking. But my mom told me a little piece of advice and it's stuck with me. I will let you in on her golden nugget because it obviously worked well for her: If you always have a good dinner waiting for your husband when he comes home from work, maybe he'll agree to let you stay at home all the time! In January, my mom just retired from working at Alexandria Technical College for about thirty years, so we can see how well this theory really worked.

However, I think cooking takes a little push from a few directions. My mom is an awesome cook, we had a family every dinner every night and still continue to have them when I am home. She made us eat all kinds of food and was definitely not a short order cook. If it was in front of us, we ate it. I thank her for making me open to all kinds of food, I am definitely NOT a picky eater. That is one thing I love about myself; have me over for dinner and I'll eat whatever you cook. I may not always like everything, but I'll always eat it. I can say the same for my sister and brother, there's not much we won't eat or at least try.

My other push came from my sister-in-law, Trena. Talk about an awesome cook! I love visiting their house; she has containers filled with yummy food that I gorge myself on. Trena loves cooking and baking and I love enjoying the things that she creates. She has always wanted me to get into cooking, too, but for many years I just couldn't get excited about it.

The final influence came from my other sister-in-law, Steph. When this girl got married and received all her kitchen gadgets and beautiful serving ware, she was pumping out the most amazing three-course meals! Her husband commented to us when she was busy making dinner that he thought she was such a good cook and everything she made was awesome. (I don't know if he relayed that information to you, Steph!)

After seeing the starry look in Tim's eyes talking about Steph's cooking, I decided that perhaps I needed to step up my game if I was going to keep Casey happy. I can't even remember what we ate before I started really cooking...turkey burgers? Spaghetti? Toast? Cereal? Salad? I'm seriously drawing a blank.

Last summer is when I really started cooking. I took down the 6 cookbooks that were given to me by Trena and my mom and made my list. I planned out 5 meals for the week and had a lot of crazy things that I needed to buy. $90 later, I was walking out a little stunned with the cost of some of these items. The spices, the fresh produce, the oils, the vinegars, etc. However, after being a "pro cooker" as I like to call myself, I found out that many of those things are only bought a few times during the year, not all at once!

It became a fun thing to surprise Casey with a new recipe each night he came home from work. He looked forward to coming home and would call me every time he left and asked what I was making. It would be waiting, piping hot when he walked through the door. Stuffed peppers, portobello mushroom burgers, baked ziti, and maybe a turkey burger (some food is always so good!).

At Christmas 2007, Trena gave me the Eat Clean Diet and the cookbook to go with it. Very enlightening book with lots of information on food and the kinds of food we should be eating. It made me re-think the way I was cooking and although I don't follow the book religiously, I am a lot more conscientious about the foods that I do eat. Tosca Reno would probably tsk, tsk some of my eating habits, but what's the fun in food, then?! Then this year at Christmas, my mom bought me a subscription to the Clean Eating Magazine (with a little push from Trena). It is awesome! It is filled with tons of recipes and every one is healthy and has lots of nutrients, fiber, and protein. It's food for all kinds of eaters. I have made meat and potatoes, pizza, potato and egg salads, pasta, desserts, and all kinds of interesting concoctions of food. The best part is that the recipes are pretty easy, fairly inexpensive, and totally delicious and nutritious. I highly recommend the magazine to anyone that enjoys healthy cooking.

Tonight I made something VERY yummy and it was really easy and there are lots of leftovers--wait, I just looked in the fridge, Casey must have dipped into it for another helping--I mean some leftovers! It's from the Eat Clean Diet Cookbook and it's called Wild Rice Summer Salad.

Here's how you make it:

In a sauce pan cook 1 cup of wild rice. (Basically boil 2 c. of water, then add wild rice, cover and simmer for about a half an hour or until cooked, drain)

Cube 2 chicken or turkey breasts and cook in a little olive oil, salt and pepper in a pan.

Mix in a big bowl:

1 bunch of green onions chopped

1/2 c. cooked endamame (I just heated up the frozen kind.)

2/3 c. no salt added sweet corn

2 or 3 Roma tomatoes chopped and seeded

Then add the chicken and wild rice. Add either fresh or dried tarragon and basil--I do a few shakes of each and mix.

For the dressing mix and whisk in a separate container:

1/4 c. or so of light rice vinegar

1 Tbsp. or so of toasted or regular sesame oil

1 garlic clove pressed

Add the dressing and some sea salt and fresh cracked pepper. I added a little more rice vinegar bc I like mine a little more acidic, but that's just me.

Here is a picture of the leftovers:

It was so easy, in fact I talked on the phone with Stacy the entire time I was cooking it! It serves 6 and has only 202 calories per serving...so of course I had a little more. I am very full and satisfied. I just hate feeling like I want to eat more when I get done with dinner. It also gave Casey that starry look, which is always the goal! (No work, no work!)

I hope you enjoy it!

Taking the Ass out of Assertive

I just did something assertive, but it didn't make me feel empowered, I felt like the first three letters of that word. It was something that really needed to be addressed, but it didn't make it any easier.

So, glass half full side of me says, "Yea! I just got my oven fixed and now I can bake and cook things! No one's hurt or dead and I am still on summer vacation!"

The glass half empty person says, "That shouldn't have been a big mess like it was. It was a simple thing to get fixed and it wasted way too much of my time and energy."

I will back up a month, if you remember a previous post, my poor oven wasn't working and after my exploding grill, I put my foot down to get the darn thing fixed! I went on the internet and Googled appliance repair+Chandler, AZ. I found several companies in the area that seemed legit and called them all the next day. I found one that I thought would be a good deal and they were very friendly on the phone. I forgave them when they lost my appointment and was able to get over it when the repairman came the last fifteen minutes of the four hour window they gave me. It wasn't their fault when the cost of the repair was much more than we anticipated.

But when I was scheduling the appointment to get my oven fixed, this is where I felt I was getting jerked around. I called them and was told they would call me back, which they never did. When I called them the next day, they apologized for not calling, but said they would call me back in fifteen minutes. I'm sure it comes to no surprise when they didn't call. Six hours later, I called them, and they informed me they lost my invoice so they didn't know what I needed fixed. It was quite frustrating, because I felt roped into using their business, I had invested $89 for the repairman to come out, which would also go towards the cost of the repair. I let the owner know that I what I had been through, and he quickly put my appointment through and found a part close by so they could get their sooner. I appreciated the haste in which they were working, but had a feeling that it wasn't going to end well.

The repairman was supposed to come today between 1 and 4. I got up really early to work out, I quickly ran my errands, and came home to clean my house, especially the kitchen. I quickly took a shower and got ready and at 1:05 I was ready for him to come. I waited, and waited...and waited. Finally, at 3:45, I gave the company a call, because maybe I had written down the wrong date. But it was the right date and the repairman was running 30 minutes behind. I said that it would have been nice to get a phone call letting me know, since I had been waiting for three hours. He responded in a sarcastic way, saying, "Yeah, I guess he shoulda."

I hung up the phone frustrated and upset. Casey said that I should call back and let them know I was disappointed with their business and maybe get some sort of discount. I completely agreed and hung up the phone with him ready to give them a call.

My assertive paralysis set in right away. What do I say? How do I say it? How would I want someone to talk to me with the same complaint? How do I let them know I'm frustrated? How do get my point across without coming across as being a you-know-what? Is my argument valid? What could they say to me that would cancel out my complaint?

As a teacher, calling parents for negative reasons invokes the same paralysis. Most of the time, it works out fine and parents are very supportive, but sometimes it can turn into a heated conversation, where I end up putting out the flames with my submissive and nonconfrontational personality. Sometimes, it's just not worth an argument or a bad rapport with a parent, because then for sure we will go nowhere with their child.

This situation seemed like I should be able to make a valid point. I rehearsed what I was going to say (which is what I often do when I am going to call a parent) and dialed. The owner was unavailable at the time, but he called me back a few minutes later. I was friendly and asked him how we was doing. Then I let him know my disapointment with the service that we had been receiving from his company and explained my reasoning. I must have been so friendly, because he went into great detail about changing ownership and how the old manager is going through a brutal divorce, etc. Did I really need to know this information? This wasn't the direction that I needed to be going in. I'm letting him make up excuses for the way he is running his business (I felt those same emotions from making parent phone calls, many excuses...), but I needed to stand my ground. I told him that it must be a very difficult thing to go through a divorce, but his personal issues shouldn't be affecting the way he runs his business and into my home. I also let him know that I felt that paying full price would be agreeing to the service they provided. I told him I thought that after all issues we had, a discount would seem appropriate. He immediately became defensive because now we were talking money. Yet another set of hoops he would have to jump through and things he would have to review in order to give a discount.

To end all of this madness, I let him know that I was going to put a poor review on the internet, so when people are looking up his business, they will read about the things that happened to me. "Do what you need to do, I guess" is what he responded, in a very snarky way. Then I told him, that people should know about the experience I had, and as a business trying to maintain new customers, they need to re-evaluate the way they ran their company. He agreed, but I guess it was in a way to shut me up. We ended with him reviewing the issues that I had and talking it over with the other owner to decide if they can give a discount.

It's sitting funny. I felt like my arguments were valid, I wasn't mad about the price, just disappointed with the service and felt that paying full price didn't seem right. I know you are hearing it from my point of view, and in my mind it seems right, but why am I feeling so crappy? I don't like when people talk like that to me, and I know I'm hypersensitive, but should I have called? Do you think he is still thinking about it, too? Did he go home and tell his wife about the crazy woman who is practically harassing him at work? I told him about 3 times that I'm not the type of person that complains, but....

Have you ever had these same emotions? How do I get over it?

Home Again, Home Again!

You may or may not have noticed that I haven't been writing the last two weeks. This also may or may not have made your day. The first week of hiatus I have no excuse, I was just plain lazy bones magoo. However, the second week I have been traveling all over state interstates and county roads of Minnesota. And so with great excitement, I will do my Minnesota call:

She's baaaaaaaack!

Every year I like to escape the heat of Arizona and spend time with my family back in Minnesota. Sometimes it is a couple of weeks, other times it is over a month. This time it is exactly three weeks. Before I came home, Minnesota was in a bad drought, however, since my plane took off last Tuesday afternoon, the weather forecast has had rain almost every day. (The kind that the farmers like, as said by numerous people in Alexandria.)

No bother, I like the rain. These are the highlights that I have enjoyed thus far on my vacation to Minnesota:

• Staying with my in-laws, Jim and Mary.


• Driving down to the St. James/New Ulm area for my friend, Kylee's wedding with my sister.


• Spending the night in Shannon's apartment in St. Louis Park.


• Waking up early and meeting Stacy and Julie at Lake of the Isles for yoga in the park.


• Trying to convice a mentally ill, possibly drunk, homeless man named Thomas, to move from the middle of our semi-circle right when the class started.


• Moving the class a little further down from Thomas when it was clear he wasn't moving, and practicing the most rejuvinating yoga on a gorgeous non-raining Saturday morning.


• Having brunch with Stacy, Shannon and Julie at Common Roots in Uptown.


• Visiting my 89-year-old grandmother and 91-year-old grandfather at Knute Nelson Nursing Home.


• Sleeping in "the cave" of a basement for many hours in a row without waking up.


• Spending time with my mom, dad, and sister, since we are all home. I don't feel nearly as lonesome!


• Visiting the Perinos in their new house.


• Playing with the next-door-neighbor kids.

This brings me to my next item, my neighbor kids. They are some of the sweetest children to have living next door. After playing for about an hour with them yesterday, I went inside to start dinner. We heard a knock on our door (actually it was several consecutive doorbell rings, a few knocks on the front door, then some on the garage door, followed by some yelling through the door). They were so excited to give us invitations to a picnic they were planning for the next day. It was going to be from 2:10-2:55 in their front yard, there was going to be lemonade, frozen Kool-Aid freezies and some other snacks, followed by games.

After visiting our grandparents today, Shannon and I pulled into the driveway at exactly 2:10. It was just as they planned. A blanket was spread on the ground, there were Oreos, lemonade, fruit salad, chips, Fruit Roll-Ups, and the highly anticipated Kool-Aid freezies (we were informed that there was enough for everyone to have two). We sat down with the kiddos and feasted on our delicious snacks.

We cleaned up the picnic area and played the following games in the following order: Everyone's It tag, Four-Corners, Annie Annie Over, and DuckDuck Gray Duck. It was a hot, muggy, super sticky day. We were all sweating profusely, but it was a wonderful time. It's interesting that as a teacher, I can't enjoy my students like I do my neighbor kids. For one thing, I have 25 to look after, they don't always play by the rules, and it seems that some sort of drama will always play itself out, no matter how structured you make a game. I just love being able to say to my neighbor kids, Well, that was a lot of fun! I'm going to go inside now, but I'll see you tomorrow! They can play as long as they want on the front lawn, ride their bikes a million times on our driveway, and I feel happy as a clam...they make me love kids again!

I hope the rest of my vacation continues to be as peaceful as it has been so far!

A New Set of Tea-th

At the end of December, I read an article in my Clean Eating magazine that recommended drinking tea to get extra antioxidants, etc. and in general be a way better person than I was currently being. Of course, I completely bought into this theory, this comes a week after I just got done bragging to the dental hygienist that I never smoke or drink coffee and very rarely would I dream of drinking tea or pop. Everyone in the office stopped what they were doing and all clapped for me and I stood up and took a bow for being so awesome. Or they just thought I was another Mormon. Either way, my dentist calls me one of his favorite patients. What a great set of teeth! he exclaims every time I open my mouth for him to admire.



After reading the article, I must have blanked out my conviction of "rare tea consumption" and wondered what I was missing out on. I could be a way healthier person if I drank tea--what does a dentist and a hygienist know anyway? The very next morning, I filled my electric tea kettle a little higher for the usual oatmeal and the rest into a giant mug with a bag of green pomegranate tea (it just sounds so healthy, doesn't it?). After the water temperature was low enough to not scald my tongue, I sipped this tea, already feeling more alive and excited for life.



I think this feeling was not so much health, but a shot of caffeine zipping through my system. Since I don't drink pop very often, caffeine will kick me right up a notch and I can't be stopped. I decided that I would start drinking tea every morning at school, because it would wake me up a little and I would have an amazing amount of pep--as if I needed any more.



That Monday we returned to school, I filled up my travel mug and headed down the highway to Casa Grande. I figured out that I couldn't drink the tea until I got to school, it stayed very hot in that mug for a long time! It was exciting to start on a new health adventure.

These are the side effects that occurred when I started drinking tea:

• My appetite was suppressed enough to last until 11:00 without starving (This usually started around 10:00--what can I say? I eat breakfast at 6!)


• I had to go the bathroom 3 times before 9:30.


• I had numerous stains on my jacket from constantly spilling walking from my car to school.


• My students were convinced that I was hiding something in that mug, because I was a lot more smiley.


• And to my deepest horror, I developed (even with the use of straws) brown stains in between the crevices of my front teeth that were pretty noticeable and I was pretty sure my teeth had a new tinge of yellow.

Here's the deal, my parents spent thousands of dollars to put braces on my teeth, replace a gazillion retainers accidentally thrown away, and fill cavities with the porcelain, not metal, fillings. I really try to hold up my end of the bargain by going to the dentist twice a year and brushing and flossing each day, and smiling the biggest smile in every picture. This seemed to be working out well, until I started my new habit.

My vanity got the best of me, and I decided that I could not drink tea anymore. It was not worth these so-called health benefits that I was clearly not feeling. So I quit, but my stains still remained. My smiles were not as smiley as they once were, I was feeling a tad more self-conscious about this little issue.

Yesterday, I had my 6-month teeth cleaning. I was so embarrassed to tell the hygienist about my problem and had to eat the words that I had proclaimed so adamantly to everyone six months prior. The hygienist happened to be very cool and went through and cleaned the heck out of my teeth. 30 minutes later, I was looking into the hand held mirror at perfectly white(ish) teeth with no stains! It was amazing! I gave her a hug and a promise to never to drink tea again! Again, everyone stopped what they were doing and clapped for me, I took my usual bow and exited the office stage right.

Reader's Block

This is what I call my reading ailment. I have about a 20 or so books in my nightstand drawers, lined up on shelves, or tucked away in boxes. I'm about three quarters of the way through each one, then I either find another book that I want to read and start reading that or just decide that I don't want to finish the other book. It's quite a bizarre habit I have found myself in!

I don't know if it's because I don't want a book to end, I'm scared to find out what will happen to the protagonist in the story, or if it's just not that great of a story, but there is something that compells me to put the book down and walk away.

A perfect example of this is currently I have two books that I am reading. I was almost finished with The Bookseller of Kabul and decided to take a trip to the library. Knowing that I am almost done with this book, I decided to see if another book I was interested in reading was available to be checked out. This book, of course, is The Book Thief. Wouldn't you know, Sunset Public Library had two of them ready for me to choose from.

The "back-up" book on the nightstand.

I immediately kicked The Bookseller of Kabul to the side and started in on the new goods. My new book has over 500 pages and is roughly 2 1/2 inches thick. I have about 1/16 of an inch left of the book (or 20 pages) and immediately put it down. I just can't finish it. There is no other new book waiting in the wings. The Book Thief is an awesome story and I have stayed up until 1 in the morning 3 times this week to keep reading it. I have given myself reader's elbow (like tennis elbow, but a little smarter) and my eyes are a bit bloodshot from flashlight reading so I don't wake up Casey. I have learned so much from the characters, I have cried about 3 times, and now want to go visit Germany. But I don't want to finish the book. This would mean it's over. This beautiful book will end and I have no hope that I'll find another book just as good as this one.

I felt the same way with A Thousand Splendid Suns. I didn't want it to end, either. I was completely swept off my feet with the story, it was so despairing. I had roughly 20 pages left and didn't touch the book for 2 weeks until I could separate myself from the story and not have that feeling of anguish when it ended. Sometimes, during really good movies, when I'm weeping my eyes out, I have to remind myself that it's only a movie because I am empathizing way too much with the characters. I am a producer's dream!

This "hyper-sensitivity" is not always why I can't finish a book. Sometimes the book is just not that interesting. I read most of it and feel Yawn-fest 2009 coming on, so I chuck it to the side and say it will be my "can't fall asleep" book. I will only read it when I need to fall asleep fast. Three pages, (flash)lights out.

I really like The Bookseller of Kabul. It's an interesting story. I've learned a lot about the Afghani culture, but my empathy has turned into anger with how people in war torn countries must live and of course the way women are treated. I often shut the book because it's almost too much too handle. It was the same feeling I had with Three Cups of Tea. It was a hard read, but very empowering. I always need a book to read and if I finished these books, then what would I read? I'm like the very hungry catepillar, eating through everything! It's comforting to have these books waiting for me when I finish the others.

I do have an update to report! In the middle of writing this post, I made myself go finish The Book Thief. It was so good and my eyes hurt from crying. I knew that would happen! I kind of did it selfishly because tomorrow I want to go to the library and get a new one and again, chuck my "other book" to the side!

The finished book is ready to be returned!

A Mistake and Something New!

I realized that I accidently left out the first part of the first paragraph on the previous post. As a teacher, I ram into the children's brains that they need to have a good "hook" to keep their audience interested. It probably seemed as though I dropped the ball, however, it was a technical error by yours truly. I have since then corrected the error and added new photos to better accompany my story. I love my new camera and it sure does help illustrate my point!

Anyway, on the topic of taking pictures, being home during the day I got to witness something really cool! Back in October when we were home for a wedding and my fall break, Casey's mother gave us a little pod. It was the size of a walnut and was filled with little seeds inside. We were to put it in the windowsill and let it dry out. Then we were supposed to plant it in a pot until it started to sprout and soon plant it in the soil of our yard.

I was quite skeptical that we would actually be able to do this, but Casey must have his mother's green thumb (she is an amazing gardener!) because that little pod sprouted quite quickly in the pot. Soon after, we put in new curbing, grass seed and baby plants in the backyard. Casey also took the little plant and dug a hole for it to hopefully continue to grow.

At first it got a little brown, but Casey kept feeding and watering that little plant. He made that little plant thrive! Yesterday,we noticed that the plant had a huge bud on it. We had no idea that it was going to sprout flowers and were curious as to what it would look like. Today, while I was outside with the cat, that bud opened up into this:

Good job, Casey! Unfortunately, when he came home from work, it was already closed up. I definitely appreciated it and now you can, too!

Girl Meets Grill

Lovely! It's summer outside and in many parts of the country people are making the most of the warmer temperatures. One of the lovely activities of a normal American summer is that people start grilling. They dust off their old Webers and begin to grill burgers, chicken, hot dogs and other lovely grill-able meats.

I am a hater. I hate the grill.

No, I'm not anti-American. The grill and I are very sick of each other. Perhaps I should explain. Roughly two months ago, we were entertaining Casey's parents at our house for a couple days during Easter break. I wanted to show off my newfound domestic skills, because just recently I had learned to cook. Please don't laugh, it's a really big deal.

I decided that I was going to make my favorite vegetarian chili. It was a stove top type of recipe, but does call for a head of roasted garlic. (If you've never had roasted garlic, you are missing out on the best addition to any meal!) The garlic does need to be cooked in the oven for about 40 minutes until it's cooked through and soft, then I squirt the little garlic cloves into the chili, the very best part of the dish!

While waiting for my garlic to finish cooking and for my in-laws to arrive, a loud BOOM! came from the oven. Casey's parents were right on time as I was pulling out the garlic, checking for damages, and cursing the oven to you-know-where. After a few attempts to heat the oven back up, we concluded that the oven was indeed not working and the little raw Pillsbury croissants would need to be tossed.

Our oven is fairly new, we just bought it last Christmas of 2007. It was my little buddy. It was there when I made my blessed sweet potato fries for the first time and when I made soggy Panko-flaked chicken (it wasn't its fault, I had made it wrong). I love the oven and the memories we have shared in my cooking journey.

Casey was quite positive that he would be able to fix the oven himself. He ordered the part from Sears and spent a Saturday afternoon trying to put it in. When I came home later that day, he was angry at the oven and said that it was such a tedious process and he couldn't figure it out. I can't blame him, I would have no idea how to fix/replace any part of an oven.

I have now had to go to our second form of cooking: the grill. We have a really nice grill that Casey's parents gave us as a Christmas gift last year. It is stainless steel and has a big propane tank. We love our grill and use it often throughout the year. Since the oven incident, I have now grilled chicken, turkey burgers, turkey sausage, steak, and portabella mushrooms. I have roasted vegetables, garlic, and sweet potatoes. I have warmed quesadillas and bread on that grill. There is nothing that I wouldn't try at least once.

And frankly, I'm getting sick of it. As I said before, many areas of the country would absolutely love grilling all these things because they would have the opportunity to be outside. In Phoenix, it is 5 degrees shy of hell in June. I don't want to go out on the patio anymore, I don't want to continuously burn things because I can't smell the food with the all doors shut, and I don't want a dusty trail of footprints from the sliding glass door to the kitchen!

Today...today...today...this was the last straw. I almost met Jesus today and I think he would have been just as surprised to see me as I would to see him. I went outside on my usual jaunt to the grill, with Ruby hot on my heels. I turned the crank on the propane and twisted two of the knobs to let the gas flow in, I bent down to pet the cat for about a minute and realized that I had not ignited the grill. Without even thinking, I pressed the rubber button and BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMM! Fortunately, the grill cover was down and shielded the majority of a huge blast of fire. The force of the explosion pushed me back and sent Ruby running for the door. I quickly turned off the propane and turned the knobs. I opened the cover to let it air out. I was so scared! Many thoughts went racing through my head. I could have burned myself badly or burned the house down! I couldn't believe how dumb I was and what a crazy lesson I just learned.

Most people would have been a little leery to start the grill back up again. I chose to face my fear head on and kept my little lesson in the front of my brain. Besides that, I was hungry, Casey was going to be home soon and my food wasn't going to cook itself. After today, I put my foot down and said that we needed to get the oven fixed because I wanted to live to see 2010. It was agreed upon and I'm so excited to call a repairman to fix my little oven. Besides that, I think we just ran out of propane today.

Cereal Killers

In this tight economy, I can imagine many households having discussions about their financial situations. Tension usually arises when couples have to come to the tough reality of a budget. In fact, many marriages dissipate because of the disagreements about how to spend money. Casey and I have both kept our jobs and are very thankful that we do not have that extra stress of figuring out how we are going to pay our mortgage each month. This does not mean that I'm not immune to the weekly interrogation of "What Did You Buy at Target?" or any other odd fill-in-the-blank store. These conversations can get me pretty heated, because of course I needed the newest lash enhancing, super pumping mascara from Maybelline and also, tank tops were $7. I don't make any huge purchases, but enough where a $30 bill soon turns to $50 one and enough where Casey is a bit frustrated with me and I hear the old, "Just take it easy with your spending this week."

However, my trips to Target don't ruffle feathers like this one other thing in our household does. We have this bone that we pick each week, same issue, roughly same time of week. One opens the cupboard excited and hoping to find the Crunchy Raisin Bran box for a morning bowl or a late night snack, but soon discovers that the box has been killed. What?? We just bought the box not even a day ago and all the cereal is gone! How can two people eat an entire box of cereal in a matter of 24 hours?

Accusations start being hurled between the two of us: How many bowls did you eat? Not nearly as much as you do when you sit with the entire box while you watch TV! Oh, well, that's funny, your so-called-bowls are about 3 serving sizes when you fill the entire thing up! I can't believe you ate the whole box! I can't believe that YOU ate the whole box! Great, now we're stuck with plain Cheerios until we go shopping next week, because I'm not buying any more. Awesome. Yeah, real awesome. Don't talk to me right now, I'm still really mad about not having good cereal.

Many of you may be wondering what the big deal is about Crunchy Raisin Bran. Isn't raisin bran in general gross? Yes, you would be correct. This is why I buy plain Cheerios and plain raisin bran each time I go to the store. We will not gorge ourselves on those cereals because they are boring, healthy and have no taste. As your may or may not know, I don't buy treats anymore because I will eat an entire half gallon of ice cream in one sitting if given the opportunity (see previous post) and certain cereals have proven to be a little bit of a problem in our household.

It started when I bought Kashi Go Lean! cereals in many different flavors because they were tasty as well as healthy and high in fiber. Did I mention that they were REALLY high in fiber? As in, I thought my stomach was going to explode from the inside out after one week of eating it. I couldn't pin point why my belly was turning itself over and I was in the most extreme pain of my life from the hours of 2-9 at night. After finally putting 10 grams of fiber + one already regular digestive system together, I subtracted the culprit and I finally could return to yoga or any other public place.

With the exit of this awesome cereal, I needed something to fill the void--healthy and tasty. I've always been a lover of cereal from the time I was a child. However, we had some rules when it came to picking out our cereal in the aisles of Pete's County Market. We could never choose a cereal that was over 10 grams of sugar, which terribly limited our selection of the cereals that we really wanted to eat. Cinnamon Toast Crunch was an all-time favorite, Frosted Mini-Wheats was always right up there, too. I would always beg my mom to buy Frosted Flakes or Count Chocula but I would get the inevitable "No." It seemed like everyone else was enjoying the likes of Cap'n Crunch and Fruity Pebbles, and the closest thing that we came to sugar cereals was Froot Loops at my grandparent's house. Finally in high school as the only child left at home, my mom let me choose whichever cereal I wanted and I went directly for the most sacred cow of cereals...Lucky Charms. It was my morning breakfast and late night snack from September of 1998 until April of 1999. I stopped eating it in April because one morning I accidentally poured orange juice on my cereal without realizing it and totally ruined my love and affection for Lucky Charms.

However, I did not lose this love and affection for other cereals throughout the years. As pretty health-conscious adult, I can't bring myself to buy those untouchable sugar cereals now, it's very Freudian and psychological. So, Casey and I have tried to fool ourselves into thinking, if it has a healthy sounding title, then really, how bad can it be for you? I would never dream of touching the Sugar Smacks, but Crunchy Raisin Bran sounds soooo much healthier. If we were to compare the nutrition labels on the aforementioned cereals, I wouldn't be surprised to find out that they have an equal amount of sugar and both really have no nutritional value.

Since I do the majority of the shopping, I will get to pick the coveted "Special Cereal" for us. For a while it was Crunchy Raisin Brain, sometimes Frosted Mini-Wheats, and a couple of times Honey Bunches of Oats. See? They all sound really healthy, however, they have something that our boring cereals do not: a light coating of sweetener somewhere. This is enough for me and Casey. This would be the one and only item in our house with an artificial sweetener, besides the peanut butter, which is a whole other blog in itself. It has become the most desired product in our kitchen. A person needs to strike while the iron is hot! If it's in there, you better eat it, because you have roughly 24 hours before the goods are gone.

Yesterday, while at the grocery store, Albertson's was running a special where their generic Cheerios, which are actually way better than the original, were a dollar per box! So, of course I bought 2 boxes, but to top that off, the generic apple cinnamon Cheerios were also a dollar. Oooh, a healthy sounding name, but I know that this is very deceiving and will become THE cereal to eat in our house. Surprisingly, it's been 24 hours since I bought it and more than half of it is left. A miracle! Casey told me today that he felt sick this morning and could barely stomach toast. I think that's the only reason I was able to sit in front of the TV tonight for my late night snack! I give it until tomorrow night until we have the next victim of the Cereal Killers!

Mean Jeans

Trying to find a good pair of jeans is one of the hardest tasks that I have put myself through in the past few weeks. I don't know what it is about jeans and why it so hard to find a pair that does exactly what it is supposed to do.

The perfect pair of jeans for me needs to be dark, because Stacy and Clinton from "What Not to Wear" say frequently that dark denim camouflages a wide thigh and I definitely do not need my thighs to look any wider. They also need to have a straight leg, nothing flared and definitely no tapering which is very self-explanatory.

There can be no rhinestones or random buckles and chains. There should be no sign of glitter anywhere, although my second grade little girls make it look so cute!

They need to come up high enough so my "pencil holder" won't show when I bend over, but not too high to make the dreaded muffin top. They need to be long enough to skim over the tops of my shoes, but not too long where they drag on the floor. The pockets need to be normal and a classy stitched design is always welcomed.

They need to make my legs look long and my derriere look small, yet round. They need to go with every shirt in my closet, too.

They can't stretch out too much when I wear them 8 times in a row without a wash. And they need to bounce right back when I do finally break down and do it.

Is this too much to ask of a pair of jeans? The poor sales clerk at the Gap took out 12 pairs of jeans from my dressing room until I finally found a pair that met most of my needs. They were a little long, but following the advice of my dear TV friends, I took them in to my tailor and they are getting altered as I write this.

I wonder if I will ever find the PERFECT pair of jeans right from the rack. I don't wish for world peace; I wish for a lovely pair of jeans for all women to enjoy each time they put them on! Amen!