Now, first thing's first: I am NOT a liar. As a matter of fact, I sometimes impress (and shock) myself with how honest I can be.
But, I have a flair for the dramatic. I'd like to think I am a natural story teller, and that this vice I have really just amplifies my abilities. I feel that "exaggeration is the spice of life."
I am an exaggerator. In my world, this spider
becomes this spider:
and this mess
becomes this mess:
And my battered and bruised (but generally okay) heart (ego):
becomes something ripped from my chest, thrown on the floor and stomped on until it's a bloody pulp:
This is probably not the WORST little tidbit about myself I could offer. Rarely does my exaggeration hurt anyone, and like I said, it's not lying...not exactly.
And really, though my exaggerated descriptions of heated arguments, and people who I despise can leave me seething even though they're not worth the trouble, my vice has it's good points too.
this humor:
becomes THIS humor:
This much love:
becomes this much love:
And that, my friends, is that.
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(Scroll down for Foodie Friday, AND the February Weekdaily Flash Giveaway!!!)
What I Want My Children To Remember About Their Childhood
I have always had a good memory. Most people can't remember when they were very young, but I do. I recall sounds, smells, and even exact conversation from the time I was very young. I don't usually need a calendar to remember important dates or times, and, without looking, I still know my babies birth dates, times, and their size and lengths.
My childhood was filled with summers spent catching snakes and throwing water balloons. Christmases, birthdays, baby brothers and sisters, giggling with friends, card games with my family, and lots of small details that made me who I am.
Now I am a mother, and, while my childhood is behind me, my children's childhoods are staring me in the face.
I'm sure every mother can identify with my emotions here. I am terrified that they will look back and remember every single moment that I yelled at them. I just KNOW they will remember the times I made them sit and eat the food they HATED (usually spinach lasagna.) or the times I didn't give them what they want. I am afraid that somewhere, I will, in the heat of the moment, say something I shouldn't and that, despite apologies, my comment will scar them for life and turn them into bank robbers instead of award winning concert pianists (I'm kidding on the concert pianist thing.) I am afraid that, when they are with their friends, they will have nothing good to say about me.
The truth is, I'm sure that in my past, my parents disciplined me plenty of times. I'm sure I received spankings, and no doubt they yelled at me and maybe said some regrettable things. I know, for sure, that my mother used to insist that I eat mushy green beans from a can (I still can't stand them), and, if my mother is as normal as any other mother out there today, she probably faced a lot of guilt for it, just like we do.
But do you know what? I don't remember those things with any kind of vividness, and I'm not screwed up.
When Lilly was born, my mom got me a baby book for her that is illustrated by Mary Englebreit (who I LOVE) - it is filled with darling pictures of babies, and families, and women in slippers with captions that read "Queen Of Everything." and "Life is just a chair of bowlies"
There is one picture, though, that captured my heart from the very moment I saw it. (And forgive me, I spent, literally, hours looking for a proper picture on the internet and could not find one...so you get a snapshot from my camera.)
I love this because, as this little boy is going off to school, all those hearts are floating out of his home while his mother kisses him goodbye.
Despite my fears, I'm pretty sure that my kids won't remember the times they were grounded from television, or had to put their nose on the corner for time outs. Over the years, they will remember laughing late at night while we all snuggled together on the couch watching movies. They will remember family vacations, and holidays. What I really hope they remember when they look back at their childhoods is a home so full of love that it hit them hard in the face whenever they opened the door after school. I hope they remember feeling safe and secure. I hope it's strong enough to follow them each day to school, and wrap them in a bubble on their way back home. I hope it's enough that, when they go off to college or get their own apartments, little hearts float out their doors and windows whenever they open them too.
THAT is what I want my children to remember about their childhoods.
***********************
Foodie Friday!
Strawberry Shortcake Cookies
Ingredients:
1 3/4 cup flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
14 Tbsp butter
1/2 cup sugar
3/4 cup packed light brown sugar
1 tsp salt
2 tsp vanilla
2 large eggs
4-6 large strawberries, chopped
1 bag white chocolate chips
PREHEAT OVEN to 375
Chop Strawberries- the smaller the better.
Brown your butter. If you've never done this, don't be intimidated. It makes the cookies taste SO GOOD, and it's actually really easy.
The recipe calls for 14 tbsp of butter- take TEN (10) of those and put them in a pan over medium-high heat. You'll need to swirl the pan around constantly until it's totally melted.
Once melted, continue to swirl it around until it's a dark golden brown and smells rich and a bit nutty.
Pour the hot butter into a bowl, and add your remaining 4 tbsp. Swirl this around consistently until the 4 tbsp are melted fully.
Add white sugar, brown sugar, vanilla and salt and whisk until fully incorporated. Add eggs and whisk them in until incorporated. Let stand for 3 minutes, whisk for 30 seconds, and repeat twice.
Your mixture will be smooth, thick and shiny.
Use a wooden spoon or spatula to mix in flour and baking soda
Stir in all strawberries and all white chocolate chips. It looks like a lot, but your cookies will be cram packed with flavor!!
Make your cookie balls SMALL- about a table spoon in size, maybe a tiny bit bigger. These cookies like to flatten and spread out. If you make them too big, they will melt together. They're still yummy, of course, but not as "neat" looking.
Bake them at 375 for about 12-14 minutes, until edges are turning brown.
My kids LOVE these cookies- even more than regular chocolate chip cookies.
Not romantically, this time- but I am no less in love.
I know that there are a lot of close families out there- that there are brothers and sisters who consider theirs the best, and the best of friends.
But I have to stand and say: "My family is better than yours!" ~Raspberry~
Well, it's the truth. I have never made better friends than the ones who I was born to (or who were born to me, as I'm the oldest.) and I would choose a day with my family over most things.
I have to admit, in my childhood, I wasn't as close to them as I am now. My closest brother is 3 years younger than I am. So when I was in junior high and high school, he went to a totally different school. We were never even close to having the same interests or the same friends.
My sister is 9 years younger than I am, and my youngest brother is 11 years younger than I am. It's like we were two different sets of kids. Almost a different generation. Often, it was my responsibility to babysit the two of them, and I have since learned that my sister was terrified of me, which actually breaks my heart. I never knew that she thought i was mean, or that I scared her. I probably did scream a lot, but that was mostly at my brother Biege, the older one, who would tie Boz, the younger one, to chairs, and steal Bergan's dolls. I went to college when Bergan was just 8 and Bozton was 6.
It actually wasn't even until I moved home to Utah from Alabama almost 2 years ago that I got really close to them. I was always close to Biege.
In December of 2008, Biege married a lovely girl named Shalynn, and I adore her immensely. She is such a perfect addition to our family! And let me tell you, I am so glad he married her. As Biege is one of my best friends, and i felt privileged that he would often call me for advice on just about anything, I worried that when he got married, it might be to a girl who didn't like me, or tried to push me or the rest of our family away. And in my heart, I always promised that I would never ever do anything or say anything if he married a girl i didn't like, because i would rather swallow bloody band aids than let anything come between my brother and i.
So I'm going to be incredibly selfish and make it all about me when I say that i feel both blessed and lucky to an immeasurable degree that he married the girl of my dreams.
The thing is, I am SO jealous of all of them! I mean, not so much in a self deprecating way as in a really proud way. I happen to be the older sister of three very talented and intelligent individuals.
My Brother Biege has got to be the most hilarious person on this planet. He always has a story about boy scouts, or some joke about 'yo mama'. Just ASK him about Bergan, and 'the walk'. Or ask him how to avoid getting mugged on your way to your car. (Biege, I need a video to insert here.)
My brother is my go-to tech guy. He is just so amazing, that even after I deleted my ENTIRE blog- followers, buttons, posts, pictures and ALL, he still managed to get it back. When my computer bit the dust, crashed and burned, and kicked the bucket, all in the same day, he still brought it back to life and saved all the pictures from my children's entire lifetimes.
Of course, he made my home page his blog (which would be okay if he updated it once in awhile- HINT HINT) and puts passwords like "Set up us the bomb" on everything. I'm not a game junkie, so he always has to explain such jokes to me, and then they're not funny anymore, but oh well.
Brilliant, I tell you. And clever, and sarcastic as all get out. I snort when I laugh when I'm around him. His blog is amazing, and funny, even to me, and I don't understand anything about computers, or his beloved x-box and it's terrible "Red Ring of Death".
As for my sister, Bergan, well, I pretty much wish i was her. First of all, she's effing gorgeous. I mean, check out those giant blue eyes, and long lashes, puffy, pouty lips, and, well, the list could just keep going.
On top of that, my sister is genuinely good. I know, everyone has their problems, but Bergan seems to just have it all under control. I have very little ability to control my emotions and passions, let alone my sass-mouth (wonder where Lilly gets it?). Bergan always has seemed like this statue of inherent strength.
She's headed out to France in the fall for a semester abroad, and I am insanely proud and insanely jealous. I never had that kind of guts.
Furthermore, Bergan is brilliantly smart. And she's a better writer than I am- which makes me, again, insanely jealous and insanely proud. Writing was always my 'thing'- but she has surpassed me.
My brother, Bozton, is the youngest. And he does things like this:
I don't think Boz has a blog, but he honestly should. Another writer in the family. (Maybe we get it from our mom???) Like Bergan and I, he is on the literary magazine crew- though he started out in it.
Boz is the goofiest person I know (aside from Biege) he definitely marches to the beat of his own drum, and is my kids' favorite uncle. My little Scarlet- well, uncle or not, I think she has a little crush on him. (And she's afraid of Biege as of late- because he grew a beard...something about his blog...but who knows, 'cause he never updates it. ~HINT HINT!~)
I was totally flattered when Boz asked me to dye his hair blue. ~Wink~ I honestly don't think there's anyone more loyal than Boz is.
So, as cheesy as this might be, and as mediocre as the writing might be, well, that's that. My family surpasses them all.
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