Pumpkin Pancakes

Can't you see that it's just rainin'
There ain't no need to go outside
***
But the telephone singing, ringing, it's too early
Don't pick it up
We don't need to
We got everything we need right here
And everything we need is enough

I think everyone needs a little Jack from time to time (or daily, if you're like me at all!).


Let me start by saying this: My husband is great. I wouldn't trade him for anyone or anything in the whole world. We just celebrated our fourth wedding anniversary but have been together for nearly ten years. Sometimes, my husband is a funny guy and gets some pretty crazy ideas. We really enjoy the Food Network, probably more than the average person should. Nevertheless. Once he sees something, he often thinks he needs to "try this at home." Sometimes, I wish they'd put a disclaimer on before Alton Brown's Good Eats show and maybe even before Iron Chef: "Don't try this at home, folks!"

One time, I came back home to find he'd made homemade (yes, homemade) wheat thins! "Wheat Thins" Recipe . And another time, I'd found he'd taken peppers from our small garden and infused about 14 mason jars worth of olive oil. *Sigh*

Anyway, after watching Iron Chef last week, he decided to make us pumpkin pancakes (sorry Jack, not quite banana pancakes, but almost!). And they were delicious! Every once in a while, those ideas are not too crazy...



In case you wanted to try the recipe.... Click Here They really were delicious!

A New Start

I've never thought of myself as much of a writer. I did not join Journalism in high school or college when all my other friends did and I never enjoyed keeping a diary. But as the days go by and my baby, Mason, has started preschool and we have a second baby in our home, it scares me that I may not remember every detail of every second of their precious lives. So, I guess I have to jump on this bandwagon and start blogging, too.


I am having a hard time believing that Mason is truly a preschooler and that he will be spending mornings with a teacher and 7 other small strangers that he's only just met. Since we've moved to Spokane (over a year ago now), I can count on one hand the number of friends we've made.

We--I-- have made little effort to belong to this community because we know our stay here is temporary. We frequently make "quick trips" home to the Tri-Cities where both sets of grandparents and all our friends live to visit. I make the trip (sometimes by myself!) almost once a month to play Bunko with my girls. But the longer we stay in Spokane, the more and more I must admit that this is the city I should be calling home. It really is a beautiful city, much to my dismay. My heart is still living in the Tri-Cities and even though it pains me greatly, I know I need to let go of (some of) the Tri-Cities and embrace this home of mine.

I suppose this is my resolution, if you will, in the next couple of months. I hope I can find things to be thankful for in Spokane before we returning to the Tri-Cities to spend Thanksgiving with our families.

Crying Over Burnt Toast

Allow me to set the stage:

Characters:
My Husband; dedicated husband, father and law student, also a plasma donator
My Son; 3 years old, adorable, lovable, sweet, and a mama's boy!
Myself; pregnant (enough said.)

Setting:
Our kitchen, last Thursday (or maybe it was the Thursday before... remember? I'm pregnant.)
My husband was out giving plasma (*shudder*) on his regularly scheduled Thursday morning. The morning started off normally. And here's where our story begins..



Mason was plugged into the Backyardigans, the Viking Voyage episode (one of my personal favorites; we just love the lullaby song!) and I was plugging away in my freshly cleaned kitchen. I even had on cute jammies and my little belly was just showing out from the bottom of my jamma shirt and I was having a good morning! I got out eggs and bacon and even managed to get my electric skillet out from the back of the pantry and had bacon sizzling and eggs scrambling when two things happened. One) my cell phone rang.... mind you it's about 8:15 in the morning. Who calls at 8:15 in the morning I ask you! Let me tell you: my friend Jess. She was calling me with an urgent break through in preschool news: Zoe was into the Bethel 2-year-old program! Second) my husband walked through the door.

He's so sweet, he offers to help with anything in the kitchen so I assign him the task of starting the toast--english muffins which I've already split, laid out in front of the toaster oven and have the butter dish and a butter knife ready to go. An easy task, right? Hmmm.

While I'm shooing Jess off the phone, the bacon starts sizzling a little too loudly, the scrambled eggs in the pan I realized haven't moved for at least five minutes and the toast is burning. Where is my huband? Where is my son? What is going on in my kitchen????

I shout out "the toast!" and Chris comes running out of the bathroom. The bathroom? Yes. The bathroom. ..with a toothbrush still in his mouth. Clearly, he did NOT understand the urgency in my voice when I screamed! I nearly hung up on Jess, and tried to rescue the scrambled eggs turning into an omelet... I used my (favorite Pampered Chef) spatula and did my best to get them stirred and they jumped out of the pan right onto the floor! I screamed. Then I started bawling and I retreated to my bedroom where I preceded to throw a massive tantrum.

No one ever warns you about the crazy things that happen when you're pregnant... like crying over burt toast.

Those were the days....

Oh! We were so young... how are we so old now? Mason is nearly 3... THREE! Three years old! That means he was born almost three years ago! 3! Where has the time gone??? (Please, will someone tell me?) And now, with baby #2 well on his or her way... Yikes.

I do miss those *young* days when we were footloose and fancy free.

Sigh.