Mush

Let it be known that I have the best Mom in the world. Not only did the entire family eat a home-cooked dinner together every day, we also ate home-cooked breakfast together. Cold cereal was a rarity in our house. The breakfast menu was as follows: Monday, Wednesday, and Friday's were mush days (hot oatmeal). Tuesday's and Thursday's were pancake days. And both the mush and the pancakes were topped off with a tall glass of powdered milk (yes, its true). Sometimes on Friday's she would change it up and make eggs or waffles or something, but we rarely strayed from that schedule. As kids, we LOVED pancake days and only survived mush days. Sometimes she would throw raisins into the mush, which was an added bonus.

Occasionally, she would forget what day it was and we would get pancakes on a mush day. We lived for those days.Which meant when she confused a pancake day for a mush day there was much weeping and wailing. But she was a firm believer that oatmeal "sticks to your ribs" and that it would keep our bellies full til lunch time, so despite our incessant whining, the tradition continued for years.

After she was diagnosed with her terminal cancer, I moved back home with the hope that I would be able to help take care of her. Little did I know that she would be taking much better care of me, and the moving home part was more for my benefit than hers. I wasn't surprised when I moved back that the mush and pancake tradition still lived on. (After all, why change something that works, right Dad?) And I also wasn't surprised when she would wake up at 5:45 every morning to make breakfast for my Dad and me before we headed off to work. It didn't matter if she hadn't slept well or if she had just started another round of grueling chemo - she would still make breakfast every morning. Mush on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday and pancakes on Tuesday and Thursday. Often she wasn't able to eat with us, and there were many times when she would take only a bite or 2 before she was sick and it came back up. But still she carried on with never a word of complaint.

Despite how sick she had become, she made breakfast for us up until school let out for Christmas break in 2009. She passed away 2 weeks later. I don't remember my dad and I ever discussing how breakfast would work without her, but that first morning back to real life, I knew we needed the stability my mom worked so hard to create. So I made us mush. (And it was awful - apparently the water-to-oats ratio really did matter - I just always watched my mom eyeball it and figured I could do the same. Bless my dad for still eating his entire bowl). The next morning - Tuesday - I came into the kitchen realizing I probably didn't have time to make pancakes before we had to leave, only to find that my dad had already turned on the pancake griddle and made a batch of pancake batter. I smiled, wiped away a tear, and poured the batter onto the hot griddle. And so began the continuation of Mom's tradition. I'm pretty sure Mom and Linz were chuckling from heaven as they watched us carry on our crazy family routine, but for me it was just what I needed to get through each day.

This morning, I made mush for the first time in years. It tasted like home and made me miss having my mom around. I miss her food, her smile, and our hours of endless talking.

Now I just look forward to the day when I'll have little kids of my own to complain about eating mush for breakfast 3 times a week. And when they do, I'll smile and let my heart remember one of the greatest women who ever lived.

Me? Spontaneous?

We all know that I am a planner. My brain needs things planned and organized and thought-out. So imagine my surprise when Dan announced last WEDNESDAY that we were going to the BYU game at Notre Dame. "But . . . that means we leave in TWO days! As in, the day after tomorrow!" Husband convinced me I could handle it (well done, Husband) and my planning commenced. Not that there was much to plan - we were going to stay with some friends in Indiana for the weekend, so we just basically had to show up. That all changed on Thursday night when our place to stay fell through. I embraced my new-found spontaneity, and decided we should just make a weekend of it - spend Saturday night in Chicago (its been on our list ever since we got out here) and celebrate our anniversary. Oh, and attend the football game. All in one neatly packaged weekend. (I know, I know, our anniversary isn't until next month, but you try celebrating Christmas, Dan's bday, and the anniversary all within a 4-day time period. All while visiting family in Utah . . . it's impossible.)

We made it in to South Bend with plenty of time to enjoy the day's festivities. And its a good thing we did because they sure do college football right! Sorry BYU, but Notre Dame's got you beat - they make game day an unforgettable experience.

Husband on the Notre Dame practice field. Notice how giddy he is?

Touchdown Jesus

1st Down Moses

The Grotto

Yay for meeting up with friends! 

"God - Country - Notre Dame" In that order. :)

SO COLD. I think I was wearing 6 layers. It paid off. But there's not much you can do to avoid the wrath of the good ole mid-western wind. With the windchill it was 9 degrees when the game started. NINE! Brrr!!

See Touchdown Jesus over the top of the stadium? So Cool!!!

Sadly, BYU lost. But we didn't have much time to be depressed because we had to make it to Chicago. And fast! We stopped for some free internet on the way out of South Bend to get a hotel for the night (we're still old school with our ghetto flippy phones). Thanks to Priceline, we got a great deal.

We drove fast because we just HAD to make it to the Hancock building for the view, and to Giordano's for Chicago pizza before everything closed. When we pulled up to the hotel I quickly realized we landed a really nice hotel. Score! Except that we weren't very organized after our crazy day of footballing, so we were scrambling trying to get all our bags out of the car before the valet took the car away. (Yes, I just said valet. No, I won't tell you how much it cost.) I denied all offers of help with our bags (didn't want to pay a tip, of course) and we were looking like fools, dropping things left and right as we walked into the building. Upon entering the building I was even more embarrassed. And I've never been more judged in my entire life. We were dressed in our football garb (snow pants, t-shirts, winter boots, etc) and I didn't even see another person in jeans. Um. Wow. We were still frantically making our way up the escalator through this super ritzzy hotel when Dan points out that his snow pants have fallen down to his knees. Now I understood the mortified stares we were getting from all the snooty city people. I was laughing so hard I was crying.

We dumped our stuff in the hotel room and literally ran out of there to make it to the Hancock building. Someone told us instead of paying the fee to go to the observatory deck, you just go to the restaurant and order a dessert and save half the cost. Yes please! After getting in line we paused and looked around. Once again, I've never received so many judging stares. There were people in tux's and evening gowns, and we didn't have time to change so we still looked totally not-awesome. And after a couple minutes in line I realized that we smelled. (A long day watching football will do that to anyone.) When we finally got in the elevator Dan had to push his way to the back corner, in hopes that it would lessen the B.O. I told him it did. :) The view was great but our waitress HATED us (can you blame her?)

We FINALLY left and went for pizza. We were starved and it was almost midnight by this point. And of course we still looked awesome and we still smelled. And of course it took almost 45 minutes for our pizza to cook. At least we know it was fresh, right?

We are stinky, pizza-loving, non-city-dwelling folk. :)

In front of the famous "bean" statue.

Moral of the story? Learn to laugh at yourself. And take a shower. Amen.

Speaking of Animals . . .

We've ran into some interesting critters in St. Louie. One weekend camping trip turned up this turtle, frog, and water snake (husband was in heaven).

One night, we came home to find this nasty opossum on our deck. We see these a lot - they look like crazy big nasty rats. Totally gross.

And tonight, we dressed as a dog and a frog to get a $3 burrito from Chipotle. Not Cafe Rio, but its the closest we've got. I'll take it!

And while Dan went to class, I celebrated Halloween with the classic movie Hocus Pocus. Good times.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

Woof.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that Spjute's are NOT animal people.

Case in point:
1 - once a neighbor left 3 guinea pigs on our front porch. They actually were really cute, so we begged and Mom let us keep them. The cage stayed in the laundry room, but after a couple of days, it would start to smell. Rather than cleaning it every other day, we put the cage outside in the shade for a couple hours to air it out. One day we accidentally left them outside. All day. In the hot summer. The poor guinea pigs were gone by the time we got home. (RIP little g. pigs!)

2 - After my grandma moved in with us, my mom got a cat to be a companion for grandma. We tried to name the cat, but it only ever responded to "kitty" so the cat was forever just Kitty. And it hated people, so mostly it just stayed outside.

3 - That is all. Those are the only pets we had (unless you count the 24-hour gold fish from the fair, which I don't). So you see, we are NOT pet people.

Let me tell you about why dogs and humans should not live together. They smell. They shed (everywhere!). They bark and annoy the neighbors. They ruin your lawn, and your neighbor's lawn. They are crotch sniffers.  Their food and upkeep cost a fortune. . . need I go on? Husband thinks that one day he'll bring home a dog. Not if he still wants to be called husband.

Well, last week, on the eve of my birthday, I got a phone call. A sister from church was in the hospital, and we needed to find someone to watch the dog.  To make a long story short, we have the dog. Its sleeping on my couch right now (which of course is covered with 2 towels and a blanket.) Husband was super excited. Have I mentioned yet that husband LOVES animals? His love for animals is as strong as my non-love. Guess what? Molly is a man-hater. It runs and hides every time Dan comes into the room and barks at him if he gets close (unless she's in her pink purse - its her "safe place"). Sigh. Happy Birthday to me!!

Spamit!

General Conference weekend is THE BEST. Saturday morning we had 4 missionaries over to watch with us. It was crowded, but the Spirit they brought made the session even better. Listening to a living prophet is just amazing.

Food is always a big part of Conference weekend for us. While I was out grocery shopping for the week, I saw a can of Spam at the grocery store. Normally, I don't notice the Spam and walk right by it. Because Spam is totally gross. But for some reason this time it caught my eye. I stopped, and must have been possessed, because I put a can in the cart. There was a small reason for my madness: Husband LOVES spam. (It's a Hawaii thing.) He's always telling me about how great Spam is, and that if he made it for me I would like it. I decided that buying Spam would make me the best wife ever, and Conference Weekend was the perfect time to make husband's dreams come true. I was right.

Barf.

See how happy Husband is? Oh dear.

Apparently you slice it.

Then put it on the griddle. (Next to the super delicious french toast.)

There was some great conversation during the Spam cooking process:

Me: "Husband, that stuff stinks! Like really bad!"
Husband: "Alicia. You're breaking my heart!"

Husband (after taking a few bites): "Oh goodness. Now this takes me back!" (as if he's some 80 year old man reminiscing about his childhood.)  :)

Me: "I'm trying to remember all the funny things you said about the Spam."
Husband: "Nothing was funny about the Spam. It's delicious. You just don't get it." (followed by a dramatic sigh)

Just in case you were wondering, that stuff smells NASTY. It was so bad that I completely forgot to take a picture of the finished product. Just picture the pink Spam above, but a little darker. And nasty smelling. True to my word, I tried it. Guess what? It tastes just like it smells: NASTY. It was slightly better with ketchup (what would this world be like without ketchup?)

Hope your Conference food was better than ours!

City Museum

Don't let the title of this place fool you. I guess it technically is a "museum," but really, its a gigantic playground. For adults. (But kids love it too. Mel - your boys would go NUTS here.) In fact, husband turned into a kid the entire time we were there.  The pictures don't do this place justice - we could have spent all day exploring this place!

We ended the night by going down the 10-story slide. Correct. A slide that is 10 stories high. It's awesome. And I may or may not have come away with several bruises. But they were worth it!

Here's a couple pics of just the outside:

 And here's me crawling inside all that stuff (it was HARD!)

And the husband:

 Going light speed down one of the bajillion super long slides

Dan in the adult-sized ball pit:

Ever wondered what its like to be a hamster?

Remember how Chip is a concert pianist? And remember how husband sweats like a mad man? (Our kids are doomed!)

This is Dan the crazy bus driver

He's sitting inside the bus that you see here. Its hanging off the edge of an 11-story building

Yay for friends!

 And this Ferris Wheel? Also sits on top of the 11 story building.

Which gave us an awesome view of the city lights

Come visit!

The Lydia Project

Today I was reading a blog of a young mom who's 18-month old drowned in a tragic accident. It was a tender story that touched my heart in so many ways. She was very open about her grief, and I was really impressed with how she dealt with it all. I think in some ways, grieving has become such a norm in my life that I forget it's not normal for everyone else. I remember after Lydia died, my Relief Society president kindly asking if I needed counseling. I wondered why she would ask that, when dealing with death was something I was used to. Call me crazy, but I was aware that it was going to be hard, and I was very familiar with all its different stages and how I needed to handle it.

Anyway, reading that blog was inspiring and faith-promoting and I felt that it was time for me to be more open about Lydia's story. Not that I consider myself an inspiring or faith-promoting person, but because maybe there's someone else out there who went through open fetal surgery and lost their only child, and if that's the case, they should know they are not alone. Or maybe its because getting the story out will be my own kind of "therapy." No matter the reason, so begins Part 1 of many, in what I call, "The Lydia Project."


Part 1 - We're Pregnant!!
To tell Lydia's story, I have to start at the beginning. Before we got married, Dan and I talked about when we wanted to start having kids. He was ready to start trying immediately, but was supportive when I suggested that maybe we wait at least a couple of months (after all, I was quitting my job, leaving my family, and moving across the country - I figured a couple months wasn't too much to ask). Dan was fine with whatever I wanted, but when I prayed about it, I knew we needed to start our family right away. So we decided to leave it in the Lord's hands, and it would happen when it was supposed to.

Less than 2 months into our marriage, Jaime & Jenn (old college roomies) came into town for a visit. We talked and talked as only college roommates can do, and before they left, they kept telling me that they just knew I was pregnant (not sure why - are you girls psychic or something?) I secretly hoped beyond hope that they were right, and the morning after they left I took a pregnancy test. The line was faint, but it was there-I was pregnant!!!!! I told Dan and we were both just kind of in shock. As any man would do, Dan had me get a test that would be a little more reliable than the cheapo $1 test I had used - just to be sure. So I took another test, and there was no denying it - we had a baby on the way!

After waiting for so many years to find each other, we felt so blessed to be pregnant already. I wrote in my journal about how I was so grateful and felt that I was being too blessed. I was no longer single and had a wonderful husband, I was FINALLY going to be a mom, and there was no major catastrophic event happening in my life. I was learning to just sit back and enjoy these blessings, while hoping and praying that all would be right with the pregnancy and with the little child growing inside me.

That night Dan and I were talking about it (because what else was there to talk about now) and he told me that he had such a hard time focusing on anything that he finally gave up studying and looked at baby names for a couple hours. In that moment, I couldn't WAIT to watch my husband be a father, and it just made me more excited for 9 months down the road, when I would have someone who would eventually call me, "Mom."