My First Thanksgiving as a grown up.

Or, the first Thanksgiving that I'm in charge. I'm quite excited. I find the turkey a total challenge and refuse to mess it up like you see in all those stupid sitcoms where it's frozen or burned or falls on the floor or something stupid like that.

So, here's what's on our Thanksgiving list:

Roasted Turkey with Smoked Paprika

Mashed Sweet Potatoes

Deviled Eggs

Stuffed Mushrooms

Green Bean Casserole

Pumpkin Pie

Pecan Pie

Not too much (since it's just the four of us). Also, I figure I'll have the deviled eggs and stuffed mushrooms ready for an appetizer around lunch time (when the children start salivating and moaning and trying to tear us limb for limb) and then have the actual meal around 2:00 or something. Then we won't really need dinner, we'll just eat more leftovers.

While we're discussing meals, here's what this week's menu is:

Monday--Sweet & Sour chicken (which Ebeth loved!!! but Evan and Julia did not super enjoy)

Tuesday--Shoulder steak, German potato salad, corn

Wednesday--Lemon fish, noodles, edemame (sp?)

Thursday--THANKSGIVING MEAL

Friday--Turkey and Wild Mushroom Hashcakes, green bean casserole, mashed sweet potatoes

I think it's kind of odd to have such a small Thanksgiving. I'm going to enjoy it, but it's not what I'm used to. When I was really little, we'd go to my Aunt Betty's house every year. My Aunt Betty is my mom's aunt (my grandpa's sister) and she had a fantastic house for children. She had a ginormous back yard and a plot of land they owned next to the house that we could run around on. They had a play area with a piano that we sometimes got to "play". She had a drawer in her kitchen full of little toys. I remember being about 3 or 4 and playing in the kitchen while my mom, her sisters, her aunts and cousins all were getting dinner ready. Aunt Betty always had a GIANT poodle (Tigger and then Esau) that would sprawl all over the floor and take up a ridiculous amount of room. You'd have to crawl over the respective dog to get the toy area. All of my grandpa's family were invited, so there'd be anywhere from 25-40 people in the house, depending on if out-of-towners showed up. And every year we'd watch Goonies before the men would take over to watch football.

My Aunt Betty has five kids, and her youngest (Daniel) was only two years older then me. There was always a bit of dread when Daniel would find me to come and play games with him. Usually it was Monopoly, and I would be forced to make "deals" that would end up with me selling him my properties for low prices and eventually losing the game. He also had super cool toys like GI Joes and He-Man figurines that I didn't have and loved loved loved playing with.

I remember one horrific Thanksgiving where 4 of the older boy cousins turned Daniel's bedroom into a haunted house. They talked me, my little sister and two of my little cousins to come in. All I remember is that they'd blacked out the windows, had hung slimy things from the ceilings and were hiding in places making ghost noises, trying to grab our hands and legs. I don't remember screaming, but I do remember my little sister, Terra, started crying uncontrollably. You know, the kind of crying where you can't breathe and start hiccuping? Well, she wouldn't stop. The big boys started getting nervous and turned the lights on. My sister's face was beat red, her chubby three year old cheeks were soaked in tears and she was shaking.

Now, you need to know something about Terra. She was notorious for tattling. Her nickname amongst the whole family (children and adults) was "Tattletale Terra". There was even a song that went with the name. So, to have her so upset was alarming cause it meant she'd tell. And because Terra was so insanely good and sweet (and had learned the "never tell a lie" lesson with her whole being), she was always believed by the grown-ups. So, whoever she was telling on was in trouble. And with how hard she was crying and the fact she looked like a total, blubbering mess, these boys were in deep trouble.

My older cousins tried to calm her down. They hugged her and bribed her and took her to the bathroom to get her a drink and wash off her face. But, she was still quietly crying and shaking. That's when one of them turned to the others and said, "We've got to take her down. We'll just have to tell them what happened." So, he carried her downstairs and approached my mom and Aunt Betty (a fierce duo, for those of you who know them...disappointing them was equivalent to ripping your heart out and stomping it to a heart shaped pancake). Both of them looked at the 8 children in front of them--at my sister who was clinging to my older cousin and whimpering, at the 4 older boys' faces that looked quite guilty, at the other 3 little ones who looked pale and shaky. Then my Aunt Betty took Terra from my cousin's arms, passed her to my mom, and quietly said, "Alright, what happened?". The older boys told the whole story and took their punishment quite well. They dismantled the haunted house and were each told there would be more consequences later. There was never a haunted house at Thanksgiving after that, but when the older cousins were feeling rotten, they'd threaten to make a new one. It was enough to turn your blood to ice.

Ah...the joys of cousins who love to torment.

I've cleaned my phone of pictures again!!

My phone's photo memory is not big enough. Every few days I want to take a picture of something hilarious or cute that my children are doing, and I turn the phone's camera on and it says "Memory Full", to which I usually have a few choice words to say (which makes me thankful my kids do not know swear words or recognize when I'm using them). Then I have to go through and either email myself some pictures to make room or delete some that aren't important. And, if you know me, ALL pictures are important.

So, I spent some time today emailing myself my phone pictures while the girls vegged out to Yo Gabba Gabba and Sesame Street (Hey, it's Thanksgiving break. They can veg for a day.)

So, here's some lovely pictures of moments in our lives I felt my phone camera needed to capture. (And, please remember, if it seems like there are a lot of Julia pictures, the child is with me all stinking day. I have no one else to capture moments of. Plus, she's hilarious)

This is my Julia bundled up and ready to walk to get Elisabeth from school. We now have a rule that we can't walk to get her unless it's 45 degrees or higher. It makes someone cold and grumpy otherwise. (Me.)

Julia getting into the pantry and finding the milk container I forgot to return to the milk man.
Pretending to take a swig. (Don't judge my overflowing garbage can. I took it out right afterwards, thank you.)
Julia "helping" me change the garbage. Nevermind that the chore was done and that she was basically dumping new garbage bags into the garbage can. She loves to help.
Julia is surprisingly friendly about sharing her food. Ebeth can usually talk Julia into feeding her over half of Julia's snack. I know that's surprising when you look at Julia's belly. You'd think she'd be stingy.
Reading a photo album about when Elisabeth was a baby. It's one of her favorite books.
The girls in the fort that Elisabeth built.
Elisabeth makes her own breakfasts (thank the lord!), so if she's the first one up, she just comes in to tell us she's awake, gets some breakfast, then watches her shows until we are unlazy or until Julia demands to (finally) be let out of her crib. Julia gets about 10 jealouses when Elisabeth stands on her stool to prepare food. Julia has been known to knock Ebeth off the stool in a rage of envy.
This is why we rarely eat noodles. And this is why Julia NEVER EVER gets sauce on her noodles.

Reasons I love Sundays.

This guy is one reason.

Evan lets me sleep in on Sundays. And while I am sleeping, he gets up with the girls, feeds them a little bit of cereal, starts making a ginormous pot of coffee and then starts working on making our Big Sunday Breakfast. We started this in DeKalb. Evan makes pancakes from scratch, scrambled eggs for the girls, over easy eggs for us, occasionally a meat or hash browns (when I remember to buy them for him). I usually wake up to the smell of deliciousness. It is a fabulous way to wake up.

Then, we watch CBS Sunday Morning while drinking coffee and sitting in our pajamas. Since we don't watch it until after our Big Sunday Breakfast, that means we DVR it and watch it at our leisure. Elisabeth watches it with us and usually learns more random things then most seven year olds. Julia enjoys the theme song and dances to it.

We also hang out all day like this.
Well, in our jammers. But, occasionally the girls go around semi naked. Evan and i don't put on real clothes until well after noon.

Then we tend do something like this.
If the weather's nice. Otherwise we just lay around, play on the internet, watch movies and maybe (maybe) clean. We don't make plans, we don't go anywhere unless it's absolutely necessary. I love it. Sunday is my most favoritest day.

I should have never told them about asparagus.

No, not these two numbskulls. They can't even find their way out of a box.

These two.
I made the mistake of wanting to expose them a variety of fruits and vegetables. What a mistake.
Cause now when I cook asparagus, they both get super excited and want to eat a lot of it. That makes me grumpy, because asparagus is my favorite vegetable EVER. I do not like to share it.
So, when they want more asparagus, my inner first born child syndrom reigns its ugly head and I'm tempted to shove all of the asparagus into my mouth so that no one else can eat it but me.

I don't though. Cause I'm a mom. Got to be "mature". Darnit.

My Weight Loss Journey Part Deux

So, yesterday, when I was walking my obligatory two miles on the treadmill, I was listening to my iPod and trying to ignore all the stinking tvs with their Fox news (seriously?), when out of the corner of my eye I see a guy walking into the cardio room and realize it's PRINCE HARRY! Like the Prince Harry from England!!! (You know, the good looking one!) I seriously almost tripped on the treadmill as three things raced through my mind--Why was no one else freaking the eff out? Where are his security guards? Why was Prince Harry at the YMCA in Colorado Springs?

And with that last question, I realized that it was not Prince Harry, but some guy who looked a lot (A LOT!) like him and was probably wondering why that crazy lady on the treadmill kept staring at him with a gaping mouth. Yep. I'm soooo cool.

Anyway, after my sighting of the Prince Harry look-a-like, I finished my two miles and wondered over the the weights area so I could do some of those nifty weight machines. Now, remember, I still have my iPod on, which I totally love. It's a shuffle that Evan won at some event thing while training in Alabama, and since he stole my nano (though it says my NAME on it), I have claimed the shuffle as mine. I love having music to work out to, and I have such a weird collection, that I'm sure if everyone could hear what I was listening to, they'd think I was super weird. For example, I enjoy everything from Black Eyed Peas to Big and Rich, Avril, Neil Diamond,Michael Jackson, Nirvana, Lily Allen, Carrie Underwood, Elvis and Sinatra. Well, I do, at times, forget that others can not hear the music. So, when one of my favorite Black Eyed Peas songs (Pump It!) came on, it took me a while before I realized I was SINGING OUT LOUD. And for those of you who do not know, I am not a great singer. I kind of suck. So, when I realized that I was being stared at, I turned fourteen shades of red and immediately stopped singing. I had no idea how long I'd been singing out loud, but I'm sure it was more than just a few seconds. I quickly moved to another machine, but not before I heard someone chuckling and realized it was the Prince Harry look-a-like. Omg, I wanted to die die die. Like I said, soooooo cool.

Back to my Weight Loss Journey...

After I realized that my birth control shot was probably what was stalling my WW planned weight loss, I immediately made an appointment with my OBGYN. We talked shop for a while, and decided on a different method that would not be such a shock to my system and I wouldn't have to remember daily--an IUD. I immediately could tell a difference. I felt less bloated after a couple of weeks and when I started WW again, I actually was consistently losing weight. It was fabulous. By now, we were in DeKalb and I was doing WW online. I was watching what I ate and getting my exercise in. It was a little harder with Evan in law school, but I went for walks at night and did videos and such during the day. I joined the local gym and worked out during my lunch breaks. I was on a role. I lost almost 25 pounds. I could tell a difference in my clothes and in my attitude. When we went back to our home town for a visit, everyone could tell I was losing weight. It was so nice.

After about six months or so, my scale at home went kaput. I told Evan I wanted a nicer one, and we went out and bought a fancy-schmancy Weight Watcher one. We brought it home, and when my next weigh-in day rolled around, I hopped on that thing excited to see if I'd lost anymore. I looked down at the number and gasped. I stepped off and back on again. Same number. I didn't get it. This scale was telling me that I was 10 pounds heavier then my other scale!! I made Evan get on. He hadn't really used the other scale. He also rarely gains weight (jerk), so he knew round-a-bouts what he weighed. He said it was right. I just stared at him. What did he mean it was right? That meant, according to this scale, I'd only lost 20 pounds instead of the 30 I'd thought. Evan told me it wasn't a big deal, that I'd been doing such a good job, I'd lost weight and inches, I was exercising, etc. But, I couldn't get the number out of my head.

And, so, I started self sabotaging. I quit working out as much. I quit weighing myself weekly. I quit watching what I ate. I went back to old habits. I was so crushed at what I felt had been a lie. I don't know why I didn't listen to Evan. I don't know why I didn't just keep plugging away. It was obvious to everyone that I'd lost weight, even to me. But, I was depressed. It doesn't make sense (it never does), but I felt like I had failed. Again.

I spent the rest of my time in DeKalb kind of half-assing being healthy and active. I'd go through spurts of trying to eat healthy and go to the gym weekly, but it'd be followed by no activity and eating like a teenage boy. I couldn't fit into my pants again and had to drag out the old ones I'd kept (probably because I'd known I'd fail). I never totally went back up to my most heavy, but I would get pretty close.

When Evan found out he'd passed the BAR and was accepted into the Air Force, we joined the Y in DeKalb. By then, I'd had Julia, and had only gained 20 pounds during the entire pregnancy and had lost it all. I'd, for some random reason, been really diligent with not gaining too much with this pregnancy. Evan had to start running and working out for the PT part of the Air Force, and we decided to go as a family. As Evan put it, this would be a part of his every day life in the Air Force and I should be making it a habit as well. He was right, of course. I did need it to be a habit. A lifestyle. So, after work, I'd come home and we'd get the girls ready. When we went, I liked going. I liked doing it together as a couple. I started having more energy and feeling good again. When Evan left for Alabama, he made sure that I was put on his parents' gym membership so I could keep working out. I went maybe once or twice a week. I lost a little bit of weight (more from being depressed from missing Evan then anything else), but nothing too significant. My jeans just fit better, not new size worthy.

When we moved to Colorado, Evan suggested we start looking for a Y for me to be a member of. I was going crazy at home with the girls by myself (hadn't quite adjusted to the SAHM thing yet) and I could use the break from them. I spent a lot of time walking around the neighborhood after Evan'd get home from work and was enjoying the exercise. I started noticing that EVERYONE in this stinking city exercised and would pass lots of people walking or jogging. I joined the Mom's Walking Club and every Friday we'd meet at a park and walk 3 miles. I was kind of digging the whole "outside exercise" thing. I wasn't necessarily losing weight, but I wasn't gaining any either.

The big "wake-up" call for me came about a month or so after moving out here. We were at Evan's boss's house for a cook out. Everyone from the office was there with their wives and kids. I was following a not quite walking Julia around and getting ready to fix a plate of food for the two of us to share. I don't remember exactly what made me notice, but I looked around at the other wives. They were all thin and fit. I am not exagerrating. These ladies all had babies younger then Julia and had either gotten back down to their pre-baby weight or were super close to it. I suddenly felt like a Macy's Thanksgiving Day balloon. I was the fattest person in the house.

That's when I finally started to really chang things. I rejoined WW (again) online and started a work out routine that had me going to the Y four days a week with my three mile walk with the MWC on Fridays. I couldn't wait around for someone to go with me. This is my body. It is my job to take care of myself. Not Evan's. Not the WW people. Not the girls when I'm too old to do anything else about it. Me. And, that's kind of where I am now. I've lost 15 pounds and inches. I'm down a pant size. I get grumpy if I don't get my exercise time in. I am enjoying working out and getting sweaty (Gasp! did I really just say that?!). I have made some friends in town that I meet at the Y. I have friends that are in my MWC that make sure I'm coming on Fridays (weather permitting). I'm still me, so I struggle. I don't always eat fantastically, but I do more often than not. I may skip a day at the Y, but then I try to work out harder then next day. I'm not perfect, but I've FINALLY come to terms with the fact that I will have to continuously work at this whole "healthy life" thing.

I've told Evan that this time, it's not a choice. I'm almost 30. This weight is never going to magically fall off (as I've so long thought it would). I have to put in the time and energy. I know Evan is watching me, wondering if I'm going to give up again. He'll occasionally ask if I'm still logging points and asks how my work outs are going. Sometimes it's annoying (especially if he's caught me on a day or week where I haven't been logging my points), but I know he's just trying to help me be accountable. And I'll slip up. I'll have bad days, weeks, maybe even months. I'm not always going to make great decisions, but there's a difference this time. This time, I'm in it for the long haul. This time there's no going back.

Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to go and have some eggs for breakfast. And coffee (always coffee). And ignore the oatmeal cookies who are trying to convince me that because they have "oatmeal" in their name, they should be eaten before 9:00AM.

My Weight Loss Journey.

As I nibble on my cookie and think about where I want to begin telling my weight loss journey (it's an oatmeal cookie, in case you were wondering), I wanted to first brag about how well Julia is doing at being dropped off in the kid area when we go to the Y. You may recall previous posts about the guilt I felt for dropping off Julia and having her cry when she realized I was leaving her to play and frolic with millions of toys and other abandoned children. Well, that is no more! Julia now proudly walks into the kid area and patiently waits for me to sign her in and slap her name sticker on her back, tries to help me open the door to the land of toys, and watches me walk away while...SMILING!!! Yes, people, she smiles and even sometimes waves at me as I leave. It makes working out even better then before because I know she's become comfortable there and I no longer am walking the treadmill with an extra 20 pounds of guilt weighing me down!

Ah...weight loss. How I loathe thee. It's hard. It's hard choosing an apple over an oatmeal cookie (obviously...especially now that I finished my cookie and am thinking of eating another). It's hard eating smaller portions. It's hard making it to the gym 4-5 days a week and sweating for an hour. But, do you know what's harder? Not fitting into your jeans anymore. Having small children ask you when you're going to have the baby in your belly (jerks). Being winded going up and down the stairs. That's essentially what got me back to the gym. Oh, and the number on the scale, of course.

I'd say that I first started thinking about weight in high school--as in, I lost weight my junior year without trying and thought that I wouldn't ever have to worry about losing weight again. I wasn't in sports, but was active in speech and drama, student council and color guard, and hanging out with friends. My junior and senior year, I was literally at school from 7:00AM until 10 or 11 at night. I didn't have time to sit on the couch eating bowls of ice cream and spoonfuls of peanut butter (uh, yeah, I totally used to do that...and they were cereal bowls full of ice cream, thank you). So, naturally, the pounds came off. I will never forget when one of my friend's moms came up to me one day and told me that if I lost any more weight I'd blow away. I was completely shocked by the comment (and flattered). I hadn't really noticed that I'd lost weight. I guess I had gone from a size 12 to a size 8, but I hadn't tried to lose weight.

I can distinctly remember my meals my senior year, though. Breakfast=2 pieces of toast and juice. Lunch=1 slice of pizza, salad and a Slice. Snack=small ice cream cone during 6th hour since I was taking an independent study with my speech coach, Mr. Ewan, and he often had me run errands when my excessive peppiness annoyed him (so daily!). Dinner=if I was staying at school until late, I'd bring a sandwich, chips and maybe an apple. Otherwise, I ate at home with my family. I never snacked because I didn't have time with all the practices and rehearsals and trips to friends homes.

Then I started college. I was no longer running around like a yahoo, and had a lot more down time. Not only did I gain the freshman 15, but I kind of think I gained someone else's freshman 15 too. I was back in a size 12, but not super worried about it. By then, I'd been dating Evan for over a year, and he seemed to like me bunches no matter my pant size. I do remember a conversation with Evan where I declared that I hated to sweat and would never work out, so if I got fat, I got fat. (And, yet, he still loved me. Ahh...youth) When I got pregnant my junior year of college with Elisabeth, I was at least 25 pounds heavier then my senior year of high school.

Being pregnant, I didn't really take into consideration how much exercise would benefit me after the baby was born. As I mentioned, I did not like to sweat. So, when I gained 65 pounds with Ebeth (Oh, yes. That's right. Sixty five freaking pounds), I wasn't too worried. I figured it would all just naturally fall off after the baby was born. (Hahahahahahahaha) In case you were wondering, it did not.

And this is where my true weight loss journey begins. After my beautiful 7 pound baby girl was born, I realized that gaining so much weight wasn't just her. It was mainly me. Quite discouraging. Everyone said to give it time and the pounds would fall off. That was a little bit true when, at my 6 week after birth appointment, I had lost 20 pounds. Most of it was water weight, since I'd had slight toxemia and was sooooo uncomfortably bloated my last month and a half of pregnancy. When no other weight was "falling" off after Elisabeth was nearing a year, and Evan had asked me to marry him (which meant wedding dress! wedding photos! aaagh!), I decided that I might actually have to sweat. God forbid.

I talked to my mom about it and we decided to join Weight Watchers. After the first meeting, seeing the atrocious number on the scale (I weighed almost the same as the day I had Elisabeth...when had I gained the weight back?), and hearing all the inspiring stories of people who'd lost weight using the plan, I was as high as a kite. I could do this! I would be in a decent size for my wedding! I would have the support of my mom and the fabulous leader! I went home and diligently wrote down everything I ate. I joined the local gym and started planning times to work out. The first week I lost 5 pounds. The second week 2 more. I was on a weight loss high. I could not get over how simple it seemed to be. After 2 months I was down 10 pounds. At almost 3 months, I was down 15. I began picturing myself in a size 10 wedding dress! I imagined being able to buy shirts in mediums again! I would throw out all those plus size jeans I had been wearing because that was all that had fit after Elisabeth was born!

Then I went to weigh in again. I was up three pounds. Very discouraging. I talked to the WW leader and we talked about making sure I was logging everything (I was) and getting my exercising in (I kind of was). I made an effort the next week to really stick to the plan. I was nervous about getting on the scale. I tried telling myself that the number didn't mean everything. I was making healthy choices, setting an example for Elisabeth, feeling better. When the lady at the scale told me I was up 2 more pounds I could have vomited those two pounds up right then and there. What the hell? Seriously? I'd gained again. Now I was just super frustrated. Instead of losing 15 pounds, I had only lost 10.

I redoubled my efforts. I added in exercise, ate more green things (and not green laffy taffy, but actually green veggies). My mom and Evan would watch Elisabeth for me so I could go work out. My mother-in-law started asking me to go on walks with her so that I could have some more support. My sister-in-law even said she'd help me learn to jog (Hahahaha....omg, that was such a disaster). Kyle was getting married two months after me and had been trying to lose weight and tone down too. I can not even begin to tell you how deflated I felt watching both my mom and sister-in-law lose weight effortlessly, or at least that's what it seemed like to me. One night at a Christmas party at a family friend's house, three different people were oohing and ahhing at how awesome Kyle looked and how she'd be so beautiful in her wedding dress. They were absolutely right--Kyle had a gun show that would make a gun store embarrassed--and I knew that she was going to be a beautiful bride. But, that didn't stop me from wanting to eat the entire buffet spread in the kitchen that night.

And I think that was one of my big problems. I am a total emotional eater. When I'm bored, worried, upset, I could eat an entire package of Oreos without even blinking. I've always been that way. Not too helpful when you're trying to lose weight however.

So, for the next year, I yo-yo-ed between losing and gaining 5-10 pounds. I never went beyond that 10 pound loss and I was slowly starting to become defeated. I'd bought my wedding dress (for a fantastic $300, but that is a different story) and it was a size that I was embarrassed to wear. And, as the wedding drew closer, I was finding that it was snugger then I'd thought. My seamstress was talking about letting it out. I could have died when she said that. Instead, I just cried in my car. How had I let myself get to this? How do I explain why, instead of getting it taken in, I was needing it let out? I quit WW. I quit caring. I focused on wedding details, on our need to make life altering decisions about Evan's career path that would lead us in two very different directions, on raising my beautiful little girl. I quit looking in mirrors and didn't shop for clothes. The seamstress let my dress out. My self esteem and morale were lower then they'd ever been.

That's when I noticed something. It was after the wedding and I was starting to pack up our things for our move to DeKalb. I was going through my WW materials, when I saw my weight loss chart. I was staring at the numbers and noticed a pattern. Every three months I was shooting up 3-5 pounds. Then i would slowly lose maybe up to 2-3 pounds over the next couple months and then I was back up 3-5 again that third month. I could not figure it out. What was happening that third month? That's when it dawned on me. It was my birth control. I was taking depo provera--a birth control you get in a shot form. I knew I'd never, ever remember to take a pill, so I'd decided to get a shot EVERY THREE MONTHS. The weight gain took effect basically two weeks after getting the shot. I looked online and, sure enough, weight gain and bloating were big side effects of the shot. And, since I was getting so much in the shot (which was to last me three months), my body wasn't adjusting to the side effects. They were hitting me as if they were new every time I got a shot. I felt so many things with this realization--anger, relief, irritation--but decided right then and there to get off the shot and find a new method of birth control.

More tomorrow, friends...

Oh, how I do so love to cook.

And, oh, how Elisabeth is loving learning how to crochet.

And, oh, how Julia loves computer time at the library (though she is quite violent when it doesn't do what she wants).

But, truly, I do so love to cook. There's something about being in the kitchen creating new and delicious meals that really calms me down. When I'm bored or upset, I feel better if I'm baking or cooking. The more complex or intricate the recipe, the better. It's kind of like how I lose myself in a book (and ignore my family, as Evan is thinking as he reads this), except that I'm using my hands and can still communicate with others. Plus, I love it when Evan and the girls actually love what I'm cooking and give me compliments. I'm not embarrassed, compliments are awesome!

Recently I tried a new and exciting concept called "meal planning". This is when you plan the meals for the week, only grocery shop for the items that are needed for said meals. I know, I'm a genius, right? We used to do this after we first got married and planning meals for the three of us was intimidating (as was grocery shopping and laundry and other things that were shared or done by others when we lived with our parents in Pekin). After we got used to feeding ourselves, I didn't meal plan anymore. But, it was starting to bite us in the butt a little bit...

Then all we were doing was constantly asking, "What do you want for dinner? I don't know what do you want? I don't know, what are you in the mood for?" Seriously, that was getting super annoying. And expensive. I would go to the store and buy a million pounds of pasta, some meat, cereal by the truck load, get home, and then realize that I had nothing to make a decent meal with, so I'd be right back to the store again buying more. So not smart.

Now, I plan next week's meals on Thursday (since I normally grocery shop on Fridays). I plan five meals with sides (we heart sides) and then only grab the stuff at the store that I need. It works so well. I'd say I've been doing this for over a month and a half now, and my stress level around dinner time is 85% less then it used to be. (I still have some stress due to Julia being a cranky-bottom from 4:30 till supper is being shoveled into her mouth) We also don't argue with the menu. We might switch a day around with another day, but we don't stray from what's been set for the week. Plus, our grocery bills have been drastically lower as well. Lovely!

The other thing I love about our new meal system is that I have been trying out so many new recipes. I am an avid recipe collector and a couple of years ago Evan made fun of me for collecting all these recipes but never actually making them. After I gave him a black eye, I realized that he was right. So, when we moved out here to Colorado, I decided to try at least one new recipe a week. That has since grown to me really going through all of my cook books (cause I collect those too, you know) and making new recipes 3-4 times a week. Now that it's fall/winter, I have been making homemade soup once a week. I was kind of intimidated by this challenge due to never actually making homemade soup before, but I have been so pleasantly surprised at how easy and simple most of the recipes are that I'm kicking myself for not trying them sooner!!! Last week I made a delicious broccoli and cheese soup that every one loved!!! And with Evan making his famous chili (that's different every time since he likes to experiment), we've been eating like gods these last few weeks.

Wanna see what was on the menu for this week? Well, let me share!

Monday: Rotini w/Roasted Garlic Sauce; salad; applesauce

Tuesday: Chicken Soup with Rice (AWESOME!!!); Caesar Salad

Wednesday: Chicken Pot Pie; cooked carrots

Thursday: Pepperoni Pizza Stuffed Biscuits; cottage cheese; salad

Friday: Lemon Chicken with Olives; a green vegetable

Yummers! I already have next weeks planned too, since I had to get our Thanksgiving menu set. Then we eat leftovers on the weekends or for lunch through the week and easy meals like corndogs and macaroni and cheese. I love it. And Elisabeth knows now that if she wants a certain meal, to just ask for it to be put on the menu and she might get it the next week.

So now that you know of my love of recipes, any and all you want to share would be greatly appreciated! I'm always up for something new!!!!