Thanksgiving Dreams

'Twas the night before Thanksgiving, and all through someone else's house,

My children ran around screaming as I smiled at my spouse.

The smell of Sam's poopy diaper wafted through the air.

With black pens, we signed on the dotted line with great care.

We were buying a new house, one with a yard and tire swing.

I could already see myself hosting some day on Thanksgiving.

On Black Friday, I slinked into the Walmart for packing tape,

When there, in a cart, was clearance turkey napkins and plates.

I bought up the lot with my dreams still in mind

And then tucked them away till it was their moment to shine!

And that was this year.  This year I was privileged to host, for the very first time, the Hatchett Family Thanksgiving dinner.  I spent days prepping and rearranging to prepare for the feast.  Everything had to be perfect, or no one would ever want to come back.  On Monday, my mom brought her long folding table and eight chairs.  On Tuesday, I cooked up a practice turkey breast in the crock pot and toasted up the bread for the stuffing.  On Wednesday, I rearranged the kitchen and living room so the long folding table sat beneath the dining room chandelier, and our small kitchen table was nestled warmly by the fireplace.  On Thursday morning, I arose at half past five to butcher and prep my turkeys before lowering them into the crockpot.  I combined the extra bones and bits with some carrots, onions, celery, and garlic, and covered it in water in my deepest stock pot to create a homemade broth for the gravy.  It simmered for three hours as I set and decorated the table.  In my rush, I forgot to snap a picture, but it looked a little something like this:

Retrieved from: http://i693.photobucket.com/albums/vv298/theliebertfamily/blog3/3cd61828.jpg

Except instead of a fine linen tablecloth, imagine a charcoal gray bed sheet folded in half.  Instead of embroidered cushioned chairs, imagine folding chairs.  Instead of heirloom pumpkins and candles, imagine sparkly plastic gourds and leaf garlands from the dollar store.  Instead of a crystal stemware, imagine gold Solo cups, and instead of name cards, imagine names written on those Solo cups with a Sharpie.  Instead of silver cutlery, imagine clear plastic utensils.  Instead of intricate chargers and china, imagine paper plates with pumpkins and turkeys printed on them.  And instead of cloth napkins, imagine paper napkins with a homemade napkin ring made from a plastic leaf hot-glued to a twisty tie. Something like this:

You know, real classy.

One by one, cars pulled into the driveway, and relatives from near and less-near arrived with rolls, salads, potatoes, carrots, pies, and bubbly drinks.  Every item was absolutely scrumptious, and we gorged ourselves until passing out all over the couches was the only option.  After the kitchen was clean and the tables were clear of all the disposable finery, we built a puzzle while telling those same old family stories that never cease to make us laugh.  We nibbled on pies and played games.  A Jimmy Hendrix documentary serenaded the house while the men talked of cars.  Downstairs, a quiet group clicked away on controllers as they battled on an Xbox game.  Annie, Sam, and their favorite second cousin played quietly, moving from one room to the next in an intricate dinosaur game.

When we went under contract for this house just one year ago, I couldn't have imagined of a better day in this beautiful home.  Thanks, Hatchetts!  You made my dreams come true!

Villainous Halloween

Halloween is one of my favorite times of the year.  My mother has never been a big fan this holiday, but she was such a good sport about letting me and my siblings participate.  Almost every year, I hovered behind my mother marveling at her talents and creativity as she sat at the sewing machine piecing together homemade costumes.  Inspired, I swore I would make all of my children's Halloween costumes when I was a perfect little homemaker.  Predictably, that naive dream was shattered on Annie's first Halloween.  Lack of finances and energy led me to dress my first born in some hand-me-down pumpkin jammies and call it a day.  In fact, Annie didn't get a real costume until after her brother was born, and it wasn't homemade either.  She wore kitty ears and a tail from the craft store. Although I had to wade through mothering guilt and fear of disappointing my children with my laziness, I realized that no one else on the planet cared.  The world did not stop turning because I purchased a costume.  Go figure.

Still, I loved the look of homemade costumes, and I realized that adding some homemade aspect to a store-bought costume gave the ensemble that custom appearance my mother's loving hands always infused into her projects.  I have used this method ever since, and this year was no exception. For Halloween 2016, my children wanted to dress as their favorite bad guys: Darth Vader and Wreck-it Ralph.

I considered buying Annie a Darth Vader suit but was stricken with an idea to save money and incorporate that homemade touch I love.

I purchased a three dollar, long-sleeved, plain black t-shirt from Wal-Mart along with eight 8.5"x11" sheets of felt ($.26 each).  I studied pictures of Darth Vader and cut out matching buttons and mechanical boxes which I easily hot-glued into place.  (You'll notice I forgot to mirror the belt boxes. Opps.)  The belt boxes were not glued to the shirt.  I glued more black of felt to the top and bottom of each box to create a loop which I could string a belt through.  The shoulder piece was also only glued to the shoulders and neck, leaving the bottom free to float away from the body and create a 3D effect.

The boots and pants were just black things we already owned.  The gloves were as well, though they had white fingertips that I colored black with a permanent marker.  I sewed the cape from an old bedsheet that my sister, Janell, was no longer using.

The lightsaber came from Janell too (just borrowing), although I did see some faux lightsabers at the Dollar Tree that I could have picked up had I not had access to my sister's.  The obviously manufactured part of the costume was the mask, which Janell was kind enough to buy for Annie. Behind the mask, Annie wore a hat to mimic a helmet.  I had a winter cap from the Dollar Tree that had ear flaps. I had to snip off the tassels and turn it inside out to hide the white snowflakes, but I love the way it turned out.

At school and Trunk-or-Treat, no masks are allowed.  For those events, Annie just wore the hat with a Darth Vader face I cut out of some clearance fleece from JoAnn Fabrics.  I spent maybe a dollar for the fleece.

Overall, I think Annie made one killer looking Darth Vader.  Pun intended.

Duun Duun Duun Dun da Duuun Dun Da Duuun!

My total cost: Less than $10.

You can buy the mask for $8-12 at a party store or Wal-Mart, so if that cost was included, it would be about $20 to replicate this look if you already own the pants, gloves, and boots like we did.

To match her costume, I slipped on my Yoda pajama shirt.  It wasn't very elaborate, but it made her happy.

This year was the first Halloween that Sam expressed an opinion.  Honestly, after seeing me create Annie's costume, he wanted to be Darth Vader as well.  I talked him off that ledge, and we settled on Wreck-It Ralph instead.   Sam loves this movie and equally loved this costume.  The best part was, it was sooooooo easy and cheap.  My kind of costume.

The green undershirt was something he already owned.  The orange shirt and overalls were purchased at the thrift store for $5.  I cut the sleeves on the shirt to make them look torn like Ralphs, and I dyed the once-white overalls a beautiful shade of brown.  The gold medal was $.99 from the party store.

I drew eyebrows and sideburns on that tiny head with my eyebrow pencil, and then I spiked up his hair.  Originally, I bought a "70's" wig to spike up like Ralph's hair, but it was sewn in a way that forced the hair to lay flat, and when Sam wore it, he looked more like Uncle Rico from Napoleon Dynamite than Wreck-It Ralph.  So, I vetoed the wig.

I think he turned out pretty cute anyway, even sleeping in the brick-filled dump.

My Total Cost: Less than $10.

I love that I was able to put together this adorable costume that didn't wreck my bank account.  Get it?  Wreck!  You know, 'cause it's wre-- nevermind.

 Because I'm a dork, I made Paul play along this year as well.  He was Sam's counterpart, Fix-It Felix Jr.  This outfit mostly consisted of clothes Paul already owned with the exception of the hat and the hammer.  Together, they cost about $12.  The dang hat alone was $8.  I'm still a little salty about that.

I did this more for Sam's benefit than anything else.  He is so obsessed with his daddy's costume that he has since insisted that I am incapable of helping him with anything because I do not have a golden hammer.  When the handle of his Halloween bucket broke, Fix-It Felix saved the day.  When his glow stick burst, Fix-It Felix rescued him.  When he got tangled in his car seat buckles, he screamed for Fix-It Felix.  I've created a monster.  A cute monster, but a monster nonetheless.

Overall, I'd say this was a successful All Hallow's Eve.  To celebrate, here are more pictures of my cuties:

Don't tell me this isn't the cutest thing you've ever seen.

My blue-eyed Rowbabies.

Ringing the doorbell with the force.

"Smile for the camera, Vader."

"Don't tell me what to do, Ralph."

If you choke Ralph, he will wreck you.

For previous Halloween costumes, click here or here.

Merry Christmas!

The Vacation Series - Part 2

What happened next in our series of unfortunate events is actually quite difficult for me to relive, but I've written about as many details as I could while I sobbed here at the computer and Annie stroked my arm and begged me not to cry.  Forgive the particularly sloppy writing.

"Your body temperature is 100.7 degrees fahrenheit," the thermometer said aloud when I scanned Annie's forehead. The slight fever didn't worry me very much, though I did wonder if Sam was ill not from his shots but from something contagious the few days before we left.  I had brought some ibuprofen with me as a precautionary measure but I couldn't give it to my little sicky until Paul came back with the car and the puke bowl inside.  Ibuprofen always makes Annie throw up.  I situated her in bed and put on cartoons while we waited.  I sat on the bed beside her and watched some YouTube videos with my headphones on.  About a minute into my video I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.  I turned to see Annie's hands flailing in the air while the rest of her body seized and shook. I ripped off my headphones and ran to her side, screaming her name and instantly sobbing.  As irrational as it may seem, that pessimistic voice in my head kept repeating, "You're going to lose her. You're going to lose her."  Her eyes starred up at the ceiling, devoid of the spark that usually fills them, and I held her and cried as I grasped for my phone with one hand.  Alone and with no car, I dialed 911 and begged the dispatcher for help.  She sent an ambulance and stayed with me on the line.

The seizure ended and left Annie's body absolutely lifeless.  Her eyes stayed opened, still dead and staring off at nothing. She didn't answer to her name or my insistent cries, nor did she respond to my touch as I stroked her sweaty hair and told her to stay with me.  The dispatcher reassured me that her body was behaving as she would expect after such an episode, but I still checked her breathing every few seconds.

When the paramedics arrived I felt relieved and safe as they carried her out tenderly and placed an IV. Pale and limp, she screamed out at the initial poke but didn't even twitch.  I laid her bear beside her and called Paul who was finally out of church, and shortly after we arrived Paul did too.  Annie began to respond to me again and I felt overwhelming love and relief when I noticed the light return to body. I held her and cried some more as they poked and pricked and examined her over the next nine and a half hours.  She bore it bravely, and milked as many popsicles out of the nurses she could.  Paul and my dad gave her a priesthood blessing then my parents took Sam so we could focus on Annie.  Later, Paul let me leave for dinner so I could regroup.  Late that evening they discharged her without any answers, and we took her back to the hotel to rest.  Sam spent the night at my grandmother's house so Annie didn't have to face another night of pretending to sleep through his cries.  It didn't take her long to pass out from exhaustion.  I, on the other hand, laid in bed, staring at her, terrified she'd disappear like a pixie if I closed my eyes.  But eventually, I fell asleep on my tear soaked pillow.

The next day was quiet and uneventful.  Annie seemed perfectly normal.  Her mood was cheery, her temperature was normal, and if it weren't for the bruises up her arms, you wouldn't have guessed she'd spent the day before in the hospital.  Part of me hoped the rest of the week would go smoothly now, but the other part knew it would not.

The Vacation Series - Part 1

I looked at Paul then at the ginormous pile of luggage behind the couch.  Sam cried at my feet because for the third day in a row he sported a fever and refused to eat anything other than breast milk.  Annie began to sob uncontrollably because the Dramamine we gave her finally kicked in and she was instantly sleepy.  "I have a bad feeling, " I said aloud.  "I'm afraid that something bad is coming."  This is a pretty typical emotion for me.  I'm rarely caught off guard with a big trial I wasn't warned about.  Unfortunately, I often dismiss these warnings as the overgrown pessimism that has settled into my life.

We packed the kids into the car anyway because the feeling didn't instruct me to stay home though my self-preservation instinct was screaming run for the hills.  Once crammed like sardines into The Professor (our car's name) we got onto I80 and headed east toward Southern Illinois.  The land of my people.  I often think back on the last time we made this trek.  It was a turning point for me and my little family, and really bonded us in an unimaginable way.  This gave me hope for another great bonding experience because, after the big postpartum depression battle I've fought for the last year, I've been feeling a little disconnected from my children, husband, and about everyone else for that matter.  But the drive overnight was filled with crying-- so much crying-- that only a few hours into this trip I was ready to open the car door fling myself onto the highway at 80 miles an hour.  After surviving the grizzly night by spending a little time in my parents van for a much needed nap, I took a turn at the wheel and nearly knocked out Kansas.  During this time Annie had a bout of car sickness and puked in her little bowl. . . which she promptly spilled all over her lap.  I was prepared for such a moment with a jug of puke-rinsing water.  After the puke clean-up it was difficult to get Annie to eat or drink anything.  She was afraid of a repeat episode although I assured her she just needed a little more Dramamine.  And thanks to the good ol' motion sick meds she did not throw up again.

We arrived in Southern Illinois late in the evening and tried to immediately put our grumpy children and our tired butts to bed.  If you remember I haven't slept in at least four days due to sick Sam and now the all night car ride, so my brain and body were both screaming, "Girl, get me some sleep!"  However, the hotel room was modestly sized and the only spot we could find for the crib was right next to our bed.  I snuggled and nursed my tired baby while Paul read and snuggled the three year old.  Soon Sam was ready to be put down, but being able to reach out and touch his daddy and see his mommy's "sleeping" silhouette beside him angered the small lad.  He did not want to be put down and he would not have it.  He cried off and on all night long, and after a few cat naps and lots of tears I gave up on the whole idea of sleep and just pulled him out of his bed around 5:30.  Annie was awake too, so I got them both a little snack.

I sobbed my way through getting ready and yelled at everything in my path.  My blow dryer got an earful about how tired I was.  My flat iron listened to my rants about going straight home.  And Paul, dear sweet Paul, laid in bed dozing like the sleep wizard he is.  I stood for a long moment at the foot of his bed, staring at the plethora of pillows heaped beside him.  How easy it would have been to hold one over his face while screaming, "SO YOU LIKE SLEEP, DO YA? WELL HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT ETERNAL SLEEP?!?!?!"  I knew right then I was losing my mind and nigh unto delirious.  So I packed up my hysterically exhausted demon spawn in the car and abandoned the sleeping devil at the hotel.  I drove to my grandmothers house and burst through the doors like the wicked witch of the west.  I looked at their smiling, rested faces and began crying again while I demanded to stay there so I had a room to escape to while my son fell asleep.  I could not calm down foreseeing a weeks worth of nights like the previous.  I cried all morning and contemplated going right back home.  Paul keep calling my phone and I ignored him for a couple hours until it was almost time for church.  When that wonderful man heard how delusional I'd become he insisted I take a nap.  Annie, who was equally inconsolable, and I stayed at the hotel together and napped while everyone else went to church.  Three and a half blissful hours later we awoke.  I was feeling a bit better, but Annie was running a fever.

Brochure in the lobby of our hotel.... Pretty much summed up the majority of this vacation.

Cruel

Tonight I hosted a little family dinner.  My parents and siblings ventured up to my little house and I fed them a surprise dinner.  Chicken and waffle casserole and flourless quinoa cake with avocado frosting.  Everyone ate in silence.  I knew the lack of comments meant something was wrong.  Apparently, I seasoned the casserole with an herb my dad hates.  The cake was good, but different, especially the frosting.  You could taste the avocado, and although I had not mentioned the strange ingredient in hopes no one would notice, people began asking questions.  After the plates were empty, I revealed all and received some rather unexcited looks.

What have I done?  I thought.  They'll never come have dinner with me ever again. . . .

It was so good to have them here though.  It was fun to see them sitting on my couches and playing with my children.  I've become so accustomed to packing everyone into the car and spending family gatherings living out of a diaper bag that being in my own home where everything is familiar was actually relaxing.  And I love my new home so much and having it filled with people for whom I care so much felt almost sacred.  It made me want to establish my home as a gathering place.

But after tonight's dinner I may have blown my chances.  Oh, why did I plan such a strange menu?  Why did I have to be so cruel?

Bonnie and Clyde

Growing up, my mother use to scold me and my older sister for fighting.  She would say, "You two need to love each other!  I always wanted a sister, and if I had one we'd be best friends."  There was one thing Janell and I did agreed on.  We were pretty sure that was utter nonsense.  If she had a sister, they, too, would fight.  A lot.  Being friends with siblings was just not possible.  Then, years later, my little sister unexpectedly weaseled her way into my affections, and I suppose she proved my mother right.  Tessa and I are Bonnie and Clyde.  She's my other partner in crime.  She's my best friend.

This summer I had my second child and three weeks later moved to Salt Lake City.  These events brought about some lifestyle changes.  There are no more daily trips across a park to see my sister.  She doesn't pop over to play with Andrea and watch our favorite shows together.  We can't walk to the grocery store and drown sorrows over a 30 cent soda on hot afternoons while talking about celebrities and my bodily functions.  Because I have children and am a full-time milk-making machine, Tessa and I don't get much alone time even when I do venture down into her valley.  I miss her a lot.  This last week, through a series of text messages, I began to see how hard this move and my child bearing has been on her.  Though her difficult and messy teenage years her best friend hasn't been able to spend countless hours at the mall with her.  She hasn't been able to join her for concerts and fan girl Zain Tomlinson Styles.  She's not available for frequent weekend sleepovers and late night nail painting.  She's at home scraping boogers off the walls and wiping poopy bottoms.

Watching me mother has even inspired Tessa to wait a LONG time to have very few children.  I guess I don't always make motherhood look very glamorous.  But there is something I want her to know.  Even though I don't enjoy cleaning up throw up or scraping feces out of panties, frequent night wakings make me feel like I'm losing my mind, and I've yet to find anything that compares to the emotional strain my children put me under, this is the best job in the world.

Where else could I receive daily eskimo kisses, hear Andrea's little voice calling my name, view Sam's cheesy grins, and consume such fine dining (peanut butter and jelly sandwiches)?  Where else could I feel the satisfaction of cleaning and dressing my little brood?  And when everyone is clean and calm, there is the joy of reciting from memory an entire collection of children's books over the noise of toddler giggles and baby coos that can't be found in an office somewhere.

Then there is after bedtime when the house is dark and quiet.  It might seem strange that one of the things that I love about motherhood is shutting my children away in dark rooms and sitting by myself with a tall drink of apple juice.  However, there is an indescribable feeling of accomplishment at the end of a long day that comes from keeping two people alive.  Especially when those two people have done everything in their power to provoke homicide.

This little family of mine is hard work, but I know what I'm doing is valuable beyond measure.  I wouldn't give up time with my sister for anything less important.  I hope some day she'll understand.

And something tells me thirty-something miles may make our escapades less frequent, but I don't think it can kill our craziness.

(I hope Andrea will be a good babysitter to repay Tessa for the countless hours she's performed that service for me.  And that way Tessa and I may actually be able to do some child-free activities in the distant future.)

Illinois highlights

 

Four years ago I traveled back to land of my childhood for a family reunion.  The week prior was the week I realized, after all the time Paul spent trying to impress me and capture my attention, I was starting to develop feelings for him.  The day before my scheduled departure I almost backed out the trip because I feared he'd move on to another girl once I left.  That night he called the house phone and asked for my cell number.  Two days later he began to text me.  I spent the whole trip with my face in my little green phone like the picture above on the steps of the Saint Louis Basilica.  Ever since that trip we've been together, and I have wanted to take him there and show him this place that I love.

Last Monday we finally had the opportunity to go on our first family vacation with Andrea to Southern Illinois.  I have to say, it was exhausting, but once Andrea quick puking in the car she was actually a pretty adaptive little traveler.  So as to not bore you too much, I'll just post some highlights from the trip.  I'll also point out some major tourist attractions in case you ever decide to visit Southern Illinois as your next vacation destination.

Because my mom had had surgery 19 days before we left we had to stop every 2-3 hours.  During this time Andrea and my mom would walk a bit.  This was our first stop.  Andrea wanted to just sit on these bumps.  When we told her it was time to get back in the car. . . you can imagine the meltdown.

Paul and I found some disguise glasses in the toy box at my grandma's house.  Te he.

Sleeping arrangements.  Andrea did really well sharing a room with us.  I was afraid that the crinkly plastic mattress covers my grandmother put on our beds would wake her up, but she didn't seem to notice any tossing and turning.

Southern Illinois tourist attraction: Hay bails.

Perfect for planking.  Just saying.

Southern Illinois tourist attraction: Bug infested trees.

Southern Illinois tourist attraction: Cemeteries.  We visited quite a few, and drove by at least 15 in all of our wanderings.

Southern Illinois tourist attraction: Custard Stand in Sesser, Illinois (population: 2,300).  This place was where my mom worked in high school.  Paul enjoyed an upside down banana split and Andrea enjoyed tasting it.

Southern Illinois tourist attraction: Old houses.  This is the house my grandmother grew up in. . .  not looking so good.

Southern Illinois tourist attraction: Beach.

On Thursday we went to Rend Lake.  It's a man-made reservoir with a rocky little beach.  This was a first beach experience for Paul and Andrea

She was a little unsure and nervous at first.

But by the end she didn't want to get out of the water.

I love her grin in the picture.  If you tell her to smile and say cheese, this is what you get.

I love this girl!

We built a sand castle around Paul.

Southern Illinois tourist attraction: Bowling.  (Wearing our matching family reunion T-shirts)

Family picture with happy Andrea.

This is what most of the pictures looked like. . .  with screaming Andrea.

Andrea loved this basketball, much to the grand dismay of the Hatchett men.

Kitty kitty staring contest.

Southern Illinois tourist attraction: This is the water tower in Giant City.  When we got to Missouri and saw a water tower I asked Paul if he knew what it was.  He guessed it was some sort of sign.  I couldn't believe he'd never seen a real water tower.

So, the Saturday before we left we drove to Giant City to climb a real water tower.

 

The view was amazing.  Green as far as the eye could see.

Southern Illinois tourist attraction: Dead animals.  Not only did we see some taxidermy masterpieces, but we also saw lots and lots and lots of roadkill.  Yum.

This has to be a riveting magazine.

Southern Illinois tourist attraction: Chiggers.  (These are not my legs, fyi.)  Someone, who has asked to remain anonymous to maintain his dignity, got chiggers.  Compliments of the Midwest.

I overflowed my grandma's dishwasher.  This was the fifth towel we had to put under that mess.

Andrea looking off my grandmother's front porch.  I have so many memories playing there.

Southern Illinois tourist attraction: Lots of small towns!  There was a sign on the highway for Benton (the town where my grandma lives, population: just over 7,000) that read, "Tourist Attractions: Craft/Quilting Shop and Antiques."  Who wouldn't want to vacation here?

On the way home we stopped in St. Louis so Paul could go in The Arch  This is "technically" a Missouri tourist attraction, but it's only two hours from my home town, so I count it.. 

I personally believe it's one of the most beautiful sights in the country.

Memorial Park.

Bug splats.

View of Saint Louis from inside The Arch.

Southern Illinois tourist attraction: The Mighty Mississippi River.

The top of the arch.

In the pod leaving The Arch.  Andrea didn't like this part very much.

Southern Illinois tourist attraction: Beautiful sunsets.