Elena and a List (because I love lists)

Has it really been almost a month since my oldest turned six?

SIX.

That's first grade. That's reading. That's maybe loosing a tooth. Tying shoelaces. Learning to ride a bike....

Why do they all just keep growing, and growing, and growing?

Here's a random little list of things I'm feeling very grateful for today:

1. The memories of birthday cupcakes with pink frosting. Sticky goodness everywhere!

2. A cloudy day with a hot cup of coffee in hand.

3. Watching our church grow and grow and grow.

4. Thankful for my husband who does all sorts of good, little everyday things for me such as, making coffee, letting me sleep in, doing the groceries, and not caring if the sink overflows with dishes.

5. Elena loving to do school.

6. Abbie's cute accent in Spanish

7. Lexi's face covered in Jell-O.

8. The sound of the fan humming

9. My iPod, my iPhone, my MacBook and our iMac. (I will really miss Steve Jobs.)

10. Our first chocolate panettone! The holiday season is very, very near!

Quick! Ten things your thankful for, GO!

Take them OUTSIDE.

What I remember most about my days with two babies was how long those days were. I was the sole source of...everything, for both of them, and it was beyond exhausting.

One of my solutions was to take them for very long walks.

I would put 5 month old Abbie in the Baby Bjorn, and grab 2 year old Elena by the hand, and we would be off.

We would walk for hours.

It gave them a chance to breathe fresh air and me a chance to talk to other adults. It would make their little legs tired and give me some exercise.

We would get home dusty, sweaty, but hey! It was dinner time, bath time and then bedtime! Another day finished: Woohoo!

Now, I feel like the days fly by, there's so much to do and yet, not much of it is getting done. So what happens is we all start snipping at each other. What's better? A clean kitchen and picky people or a sink full of dishes and happy people?

I try to choose the latter (but oh, how I love a clean kitchen!) and so many times, when I find that everyone is getting a bit clingy, grumbly, and droopy, we head outside.

For hours.

We drink terere with neighbors, we make new friends, we see a new bug, and we come home tired and happy.

I know it doesn't always really make sense, to leave the long to do lists behind, but it's so much better.

Seriously, grab some shoes and go outside.

Now vs. Then

Shoveling...that's what I'm doing these days. Shoveling my way out of laundry, diapers, and sticky messes. I find myself getting frustrated and wondering why it's not working like it used to. I remember when I had two kids I was able to keep the house fairly tidy, the children were bathed on a regular basis, I blogged daily, cooked a new recipe almost three times a week, and went to the gym every morning.

Why isn't it working now?

Finally, because I'm so slow sometimes, it dawned on me that things are so different now.

I have THREE kids, not TWO. The oldest wants to read, the middle one wants to play quietly with toys, the youngest wants to climb into the kitchen sink and hang from the rafters. So different then when I had two babies who's needs were basically the same.

Our church now is very young compared to the church we were in "way back then" which was more established.

I wasn't homeschooling then, I am now.

Why do I keep trying to squeeze my present into the past? It's only frustrating me and leaves me with a bigger pile of mental and physical "stuff" to shovel out of.

Thankfully, I know that my identity is not in a tidy house, and perfectly synchronized schedule. It's in Christ, who is so, so, so very patient with me.

I have to remind myself that going to the gym every morning, or three new meals a week are not eternal things.

So for now, I only cook food that don't require recipes. I don't blog as often. My house is a wreck because instead of cleaning it I take my three wiggly girls for a walk to meet our new neighbors and establish relationships.

So yeah, we eat lots of sandwiches, we take naps, we make messes, and pull out our clothes from large piles found on top of the dryer. We buy bread, we play PBSKids.org, and I haven't seen the inside of a gym in ages.

And those things are not eternal, but my girls souls are. So if I'm washing dishes and I notice one sulking, I leave the dishes and talk to Miss Pouty, give her the Gospel, pray with her, correct her and then move on to something else.

The dishes will get done, eventually.

And that, is where we're at NOW.

Open your face!

One of my little girls has the habit of frowning, she is very emotional and can turn on the tears just.like.that. We've talked about habits and we're working with her to overcome this. I want her to know I'm on her side and one of our key phrases with her is "Open your face!" meaning, stop scrunching it, lift those lips up into a smile! and no more whining! That little phrase usually keeps her from melting down into a puddle of tears over a broken cookie, lost toy, or misplaced shoe.

Yesterday, I had to keep telling myself to open my face.

I don't know what it was exactly but I just found myself feeling so ruffled. Two long weeks, little sleep at night, teething toddler...I wasn't sad, I wasn't grumpy, I wasn't mad...I was a mixture of all three and tried to hide it all morning.

Ah! But then Brian took me to a local greenhouse/plant store. It's not in town, so we drove a about 20 minutes on a long stretch of highway and pulled into a small, manicured jungle.

So glad I grabbed my camera.

All those plants made the air easier to breathe, the birds were everywhere and singing, bright colors surrounded us and I felt so much better.

We went back home with a few trees and bushes in the back of our car, and I for one, had an open face. :)

(This is Elena making what we call her "Daddy face.")

On todays agenda: Finish painting some shelves red for the girls playroom, bake chocolate chip cookies, have friends over for burgers, walk around the neighborhood and meet some neighbors, take Alice for a long walk at the park (done!), plant more grass in the backyard, find a local bookstore to buy cardboard for the girls chore chart, and, oh yeah...school with Elena.

I hope it to get it all done, if not, oh well. There's always tomorrow!

I've been spending a lot of time and creative energy on our photography business lately, I wanted to see and try it out. So far, I have to be honest, I'm really not liking it. We haven't had any jobs yet (it's only been three days since we launched) but I feel that my head is in another place. I spend so much time planning and thinking about what I would do for a newborn shoot, wedding shoot, etc that I end up giving my girl the tired, leftover, un-creative parts of me. Boring.

The good news is, I'm not in this photography thing alone. My friend will soon be back and take over almost everything, except photo editing which is my favorite thing of all. It truly is wonderful to have friends.

All that to say this: I refuse to give my creative energy to anyone but friends and family, for now. Some women have it in endless amounts and can spread it all over church, family, friends and complete strangers, but I just can't.

So, hello girls! How about we do some finger painting today?

My Cinnamon Rolls

(Yes. They really look like that.)

DOUGH:

1 3/4 cups of lukewarm water

1 1/2 Tablespoons granulated yeast

1 1/2 Tbsp. salt

4 large eggs, lightly beaten

1/2 cup of honey

1/2 cup of unsalted butter, melted

7 cups of unbleached all-purpose flour

Mix the yeast, salt, eggs, honey and melted butter with the water in a 5-quart bowl, or a lidded (not airtight) container.

Mix in the flour without kneading, using a wooden spoon. You may need to use wet hands to incorporate the last bit of flour.

Cover, not airtight, and allow to rest at room temperature until the dough rises and collapses (or flattens on top), for about 2 hours.

The dough can be used immediately after the initial rise but it is MUCH easier to handle when cold. So...refrigerate in a lidded (not airtight) container and use over the next 5 days. This is enough for three batches of cinnamon rolls.

(Tip: I usually mix the dough three days in advance, we find that the flavor is better when the dough ferments a bit)

On to the cinnamon rolls!! (are you still with me???)

The Caramel Topping (Don't miss this! It's what makes my cinnamon rolls special!)

6 Tbsp. unsalted butter, softened

1/2 tsp. salt

1/2 cup brown sugar

* Mix together and spread evenly over the bottom of a 9 inch cake pan. This magical concoction will turn into a sweet, sticky, gooey caramel that will sink into your amazing rolls.

The Filling

4 Tbps. unsalted butter, softened

1/4 cup sugar

2 tsp. ground cinnamon

1/4 tsp of freshly grated nutmeg

Pinch of freshly ground black pepper (yup. you read that correctly)

1 cup of raisins

*Pull your bowl of dough out of the fridge, dust the surface of the dough with flour and cut off a 1 1/2 pound (roughly the size of a cantaloupe) piece. Dust the piece with more flour and quickly shape it into a ball. With a rolling pin, roll out the dough to a thin rectangle. Cream together your butter, sugar, and spices. Spread thinly over the dough, sprinkle raisins on top. Starting with the long side, roll the dough into a log. If the dough is too soft to cut, let it chill in the fridge for 20 minutes or so.

With a sharp serrated knife, cut the log into 8 pieces and place in cake pan with the "swirly" sides facing up. Let rise for about 1 hour.

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees about five minutes before baking.

Bake the rolls for about 40 minutes or until golden brown and well set in the center.

Pull out of oven, and while they are still hot, turn onto a large serving dish. Make sure the serving dish has a lip around the edge or else all the gooey topping will fall onto your counter. DO NOT let the rolls cool in the pan or the Caramel Topping will make them stick.

And you're done!! :)

Yes, a lot of work, but look at this picture! They are SO worth it!!

Recipe adapted from Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day, which you should own. Seriously.

My Dad, the doctor. Another re-post!

She asked if my dad was a doctor.

Uhm...yes, well, kinda...maybe? Sorta.

Hm...I'll just start at the beginning.
When I was eleven we moved from a big city in Venezuela, Barquisimeto its called, to a small Indian village named Chajurana. It was a two hour plane trip. Not a big plane, a small one engine 206 Cessna. Like a sardine can with wings. We arrived in the village and began the long process of settling in. The bats didn't like that we were taking over their outhouse. And of course we didn't like going to the outhouse by ourselves. So who ever had to "go" also had to convince a younger sibling to accompany them.
Josh - "Hey! Jewel! You want to go to the out house with me?"
Jewel- "No."
Josh - "It will be fun!"
Jewel- "No, it will stink. The out house smells weird."
Josh - "Please???"
Jewel - "Uh...no."
Josh - "Uhm...Jayde! You want to go the out house with me??"
Jayde- "AAAA!! I hate bats!!!" (as she's running away....)
You get the point. Well, one day, right at dusk, the Ye'kwana nurse came to get my dad. He told my dad they needed his help. A little boy had shot an arrow into his shoulder. Could my dad help the men get it out? My dad was ecstatic to help, he grabbed his flashlight, because his idea of "helping" was holding the flashlight so they could see better while they pulled the arrow out. Wrong.

When they got to the small, smokey little hut one of the men handed my dad a scapel and said, "There you go." My dad asked them just what they thought he was supposed to do with a scapel. "Pull the arrow out."
"I don't know how to pull the arrow out. You're the nurse!"
"Yeah, but you're the missionary."
"So....?"
"All missionaries have to do medical stuff." Of course this conversation did not take place in English, it supposedly took place in Yekwana, which my dad knew very little of at the time. So for all we know the conversation that really took place was...
"Pull the arrow out"
"Hi! How are you? What is your name?"
"What? I asked you to pull the arrow out. Here's the scapel."
"We will be here for three months, and Jesus loves you."
"You missionaries get weirder and weirder."
Most of our early conversations in Yekwana went like that, and I must admit that my grasp of the language never really got past that point! ;-)
Long story short, my dad pulled the arrow out, and he was hooked. He loved medical work and went on to deliver babies,treat burns, stitch, pull teeth, etc. Just about anything you could think of, he could do. Of course his children did not put as much trust in him as the Ye'kwanas did. We were afraid to tell dad we had a toothache, cause he would want to pull it. Practice, he called it. We were not very excited about being his dental guinea pigs.
The Ye'kwana parents would threaten their kids..."If you dont behave, the missionary is going to give you a shot!" Ahh...the good old days. When penicillan could fix everything!