The Best Folks in the World Shop at Aldi

I kid you not.

I would like to highlight two recent experiences that prove this is 110% correct.  

A few weeks ago, I went on a HUGE grocery shopping trip to Aldi.  The kind where I have to stock up on everything, because the only thing left in the refrigerator are condiments and salad dressing bottles.  On this particular occasion, I had a grocery list that covered the front AND back of a piece of paper.  It was semi-ridiculous that I had waited that long to go to the store, but I digress.  The point is I was in the store for probably close to a solid hour, entertaining two kiddos with yogurt melts, plastic keys, and funny faces.

Well, when I got to the front of the store to check out, I realized it was raining outside.  Scratch that.  It wasn't raining.  It was pouring.  That's the thing about North Carolina weather.  It can get tricky.  One minute it can be bright and sunny, the next second it can be overcast, and in less time than it takes one to say, "I don't have an umbrella," sheets of rain just start dumping from the heavens.

The situation was bleak, but realizing we had depleted the yogurt melt supply, and that the funny face technique was wearing off, I had no choice but to go ahead and pay for our groceries.  I made my way to the door (trying to create a make-shift rain shelter for at least Everett out of his shopping cart seat cover on the way), and the nicest man in the world followed me and offered to walk us to our car with his umbrella. Seriously.  It kind of made my entire day.  And then he held the umbrella for us, while I put my kids in their car seats, so I wouldn't get soaking wet.  He told me he saw us, thought about his wife and kids, and hoped someone would offer to do the same for her, if she was ever in the same pickle.  Well, Mr. Nicest Man in the World, I hope someone does.

Fast forward to my most recent grocery trip to Aldi. This time I was only running in to get a few mountain loads of sugar ingredients for the strawberry freezer jam I was going to be making that day.  But Aldi always has these amazing random things hanging out in the middle of the store, and this time they happened to have Little Tikes' picnic tables.  The kind with the cute shade umbrella.  And I thought, "This would be a perfect birthday gift for Everett from his Gigi and Poppy."  So I called Gigi, and asked her what she thought.  She concurred, and told me to go ahead and buy it, in case they disappeared before she could get her own paws on one.  So I ended up with this gigantic box that I had to put in the back of my car when we left.  This wouldn't be a problem, except I had forgotten that the gigantic jogging stroller was already in there, from our previous night's strawberry picking adventure (thus the strawberry jam making on the agenda).  As I struggled to maneuver the huge box into my car, two of the sweetest ladies in the world came over and helped me lift and wiggle the monstrosity until it fit.  It was so kind, and I appreciated it so much.

I think we can learn a couple of valuable lessons here.  First of all, I stumbled upon these thoughts while perusing Pinterest recently, and I absolutely love both of them:

 (source)

and 

(source)

I doubt that either of the folks who helped me while I was shopping at Aldi thought they were doing something huge or miraculous, but their actions not only helped that singular moment in my day go more smoothly, they also affected the tone of the entire rest of my day.  Imagine if we all were a little more conscious of others around us.  If we were all a little kinder.  A little more helpful.  A little more sincere.

And secondly, and perhaps the most important lesson of all is this:  when you want cheap groceries, go to Aldi.  Avoid Walmart at all costs.

The end.

All a Baby Needs is Love

So, it was Mother's Day yesterday. Maybe that's why I'm thinking about my crazy job title of mother, and maybe not.

 Is it just me, or does it feel like the Internet is currently inundated with conflicting advice regarding motherhood? Here are just a few examples I've come across in the last week:

1). "Tell your kid he's smart!" vs. "Oh, wait! Don't do that, or he'll settle for mediocre and stop trying to push himself to achieve!"

2). "Get off your smart phones! Close up your laptop! Watch your kid pretending to be Spiderman, before he's a college grad and won't fit into that spandex costume anymore!" vs. "Let yourself have time to unwind." and "Look how much we stay connected through the amazing gift of technology."

3). "In Defense of Sharing" vs. "Why I Don't Make My Son Share"

4).  "Teaching your child to self-sooth is a precious gift." vs. "If you let your baby cry it out, he's likely to become a serial killer by the time he's 25."

5).   "Keep your children away from cell phones, TV, and computers."  vs. "The top 10 educational apps for kids"

Sometimes I feel like I'm caught in the crossfire of all these voices who see motherhood/parenthood in terms of black and white. Right and wrong. I start to feel dizzy, while all their words spin around inside my head, and I judge my own parenting against their standards.  Most of the time I'm able to sort things out.  I have enough sense to remind myself that I'm being ridiculous.  I don't even KNOW these people.  They don't KNOW my children. Sometimes, though, I err on the side of the nonsensical.  

I didn't shine as a parent the last few days, which may be why all the extra parental philosophising seemed especially nauseating.

Everett's top teeth are coming in.  Which means he hasn't been sleeping. Which means he has been screaming, instead of sleeping.  Which means I haven't been sleeping.  Which means I have been grumpy.  It's true.  I turn into Mrs. Grumpy Pants when I don't get enough shut eye.  Just ask my husband; he will not mince words.  So, I've been a grumpy mommy the last few days.  And I feel pretty bad about that.

Case in point:  We had an extremely full day on Saturday, and part of that day was buying plants for our garden.  When we were at Lowe's Kaden insisted he had to pull one of those cumbersome, flatbed carts around.  Through the garden center.  By himself.  On a Saturday.  And my patience wore a little thin.  I'm about 110% positive that by the time that experience ended, all within earshot thought I was a pretty poor excuse for a Mama.

Then we went to church yesterday, which is just a complete joke at this point in our parenting career.  We are on the 1:00 schedule right now, which means church starts at 1:00 p.m. and ends at 4:00 p.m.  This is right during the time my kids start to feel tired and fall apart.  About a quarter of the way through sacrament meeting, Everett started getting fussy, because all he really wants to do is crawl around like a crazy baby.  So Chad took him out to the foyer, so he could do that.  About half way through sacrament meeting, Kaden started making really loud farm equipment noises, while pushing his tractor magnets across the page of his quiet book.  I asked him in a nice, calm voice to stop.  He ignored me.  I asked him again.  He looked at me, and kept doing it.  I told him if he did not stop, I would have to take him out.  He did it again.  So I got to carry him out of sacrament meeting, while he screamed, "I'M SO SORRY, MOMMY!  I'LL BE QUIET! I'LL BE QUIET!"  and ended up taking him on a 10 minute drive, while he kicked the back of my seat and yelled that he was mad at me, before he would calm down enough to go back into church.  It was a pretty awesome Mother's Day.

I had a profound thought the other day while I had a few precious moments of quiet, alone time:  Maybe, when I discount my own instincts, and focus instead on all these "expert" opinions of others, I'm actually doing my kids a disservice.  Maybe I sometimes too quickly forget that these sweet little boys were sent to me for a specific purpose.

That even when it's hard and I feel like I'm failing, I'm still the most qualified person in the world to be their mom.

When I was pregnant with Everett, I attended a friend's baby shower, and all the guests offered her their best piece of parenting advice. My absolute favorite was my friend Kari's two cents, which was some version of this sentiment: "All a baby needs is love." In a lot of ways, how true that statement is.

I came across some fantastic old family photos this weekend that illustrated this point for me extremely well:

These first couple are from one of my Dad's childhood Christmases.  I love everything about this first photo. The sparse tree with the tinsel.  My Dad's slippers on the right side of the frame.  The wrapping paper strewn across the floor.  But my favorite part are the expressions on my grandma and great grandma's faces.  

Oh, Dad.  That bedhead.  I sure wish we had that vintage construction truck for my boys!

I'm pretty sure this is my dad getting his cloth diaper adjusted by Grandma,

before he scurried off into the dirt:

Grandma and Dad:

Three generations of women with my dad (lower right) and two of his siblings, MalaRee and Howard.  

Grandma Great with her son, Eldred:

I just couldn't help myself with this one.  That's Grandpa stealing a smooch from Grandma.  She looks like she was pretty OK with that.

And then I found a couple golden ones from my mom's childhood.  Here's my mom, giving an Everett-style kiss to my grandma Joy.

And here's my mom having a "spa day" with her mommy:

My grandmothers are two of the most amazing women I have ever known.  They are incredibly different people.  And they are both tremendous examples of what it means to be a mother.  And you know what's funny?  When I think about them as mothers, I don't think about them reading stacks of parenting books and following some magical recipe for perfection in motherhood.  I don't know, maybe they did those things. They could have.  But I picture them just like I see them in these photos.  Just being mommies.  And grandmas.

So this year, as a mom, I'm setting a goal to worry a bit less, and to focus on being the mom I'm supposed to be.  Mistakes are going to happen; it's part of the process.  I'm not going to be perfect.  But if love is all a baby really needs, I think my boys are winning in that department.  My heart is pretty full of love for these two:

Strawberry Picking

When the strawberries are ripe in North Carolina, it starts to feel like it is officially summer.  We went with a couple of our favorite families to a local strawberry farm this week and had a great time picking.  

Kaden in particular had a great time.  Eating.  His mouth was covered in berry juice by the time we were done.  More than once, when I proudly showed him a perfectly red berry, he snagged it and proclaimed, "Oh!  Good! I will eat it!"  before plopping it into his mouth.  I sure hope the farmers factored in preschooler taste-testing to their price per bucket.  With Kaden's berry consumption in the field alone, I'd say we got our money's worth.  

He didn't just eat though.  In true Kaden fashion, he was a great helper.  I hope his work ethic sticks.  He is the best little worker bee.  It makes me so proud.

Everett helped by staying super happy as he off-roaded through the strawberry field.

Had to get a closeup of those dreamy thighs:

 Mia agreed.  She had to give them a good caress after the picking was over:

My friend, Rachel, has the sweetest boys.  They love babies.  Little boys who love babies.  Is there anything cuter?  I think not.  

Even after all the snacking in the field, Kaden couldn't wait to sink his teeth into more strawberries.  Which is why he is pictured below smuggling some from the Pearson's stash.  Ours were already packed away in the car at this point.

It was the perfect night, with the perfect company.  

When Chad went to pay, the lady complimented us on our strawberry picking skills.  "I can tell you've picked strawberries before," she said.  "Why yes, farmer lady, we have.  We have indeed."  And we know how to pick them perfectly ripe, red,

and ready for strawberry freezer jam (which always makes me think of my Grandma Jensen).

With a few left over to make something delectable, fancy, and scrumptious, of course.  I made a strawberry shortcake cake to welcome Chad's brother, Cameron, back from BYU.  You can find the recipe for this beauty here.  And, in my humble opinion, she tasted every bit as good as she looked.

Which is why I quickly shared the leftovers, before I finished it off myself and went into a cake coma.

And now that the strawberries are ripe, it's time for the humidity to commence.  Which excites me about as much as the memory of this.

Tacos Al Pastor

I really love to cook, and I like to tell myself that I'm usually pretty good at it.  So I find it incredibly annoying that I usually bomb in the crock pot meal department.  The slow cooker niche is supposed to be fail proof, yet nine times out of ten my family hates what I make in that stupid thing.  Case in point:  I made crock pot mac and cheese a couple of weeks ago in the slow cooker.  I thought it would make the perfect lunch leftovers for the next few days.  We threw away the leftovers.  It was that disgusting.  Mac and CHEESE for Heaven's sake!

Given my track record, you'd think I would give up, but I just can't.  I'm a busy woman, and the idea of a fix it and forget it meal that actually tastes good keeps me on the prowl for new recipes.

I grew up out West, so I have high standards when it comes to Mexican food.  Since moving to the East Coast, most visits to Mexican restaurants leave me unsatisfied, and salivating while I dream of eating at Inca's or at Tacos el Rey's (the Mexican restaurants of my youth), or something from a Spanish Branch activity.

We finally found one Mexican restaurant that we actually like here in Raleigh.  Our favorite item on the menu by far are their tacos al pastor (pork and pineapple tacos).

Well, one day I realized I had a pork tenderloin in the freezer and two fresh pineapples on the counter.  I was also craving tacos al pastor.  It was meant to be.

A Google search later, I had a few recipes which I combined to create a crock pot masterpiece:  my homemade version of tacos al pastor.  A fix it and forget it meal that actually TASTES good.  Oh, and as an added bonus you can freeze the leftovers, which ALSO actually taste good after being reheated.  That's like a three for one deal or something.

You're welcome.

Crock Pot Tacos Al Pastor

What You'll Need :

• One three pound pork shoulder, roast, or tenderloin  (I used tenderloin.)
• 2 chipotles in adobo sauce (found in the ethnic food aisle at the grocery store)
• One 8-ounce can of crushed pineapple (juice and all) or 2 cups of fresh pineapple, chopped
• 1 cup sweet onion, diced
• 1/2 cup orange juice
• 4 cloves garlic, smashed 
• 1.5 Tbsp apple cider vinegar
• 1 tsp oregano
• 1/2 tsp cinnamon
• 1 tsp cumin
• 1 tsp chili powder
• 1 tsp sea salt
• 1/2 packet of taco seasoning

How to Make It:

1.  Grease the crock pot with a little cooking spray.

2.  Put pork in crock pot (fat side up).

3.  Mix all remaining ingredients together, and dump on top of waiting pork.

4.  Cover and cook on low for a bazillion hours, until the meat is tender and falling apart.  Shred.  Then let it cook some more.  (Probably at least 8 to 10 hours total.)  

For Topping the Tacos:

• 1 fresh pineapple, grilled and diced
• 1 red onion, finely diced
• 1/4 bunch of cilantro, finely chopped
• 1 lime, juiced

1.  Cut the pineapple into long wedges and grill for about 5 minutes on each side, or until golden brown.  (For convenience, I just did this on a grill pan inside.)

2.  Combine equal parts grilled pineapple, red onion, and cilantro.  

3.  Drizzle with lime juice.

4.  Refrigerate until ready to serve.

When your meat is ready to go, serve on warm tortillas, top with black beans, a generous helping of the grilled pineapple salsa, diced avocado, and crumbled queso fresco (DON'T SKIP THIS!  It's essential.) Serve with lime wedges for squeezing.  

*If you choose to freeze the leftovers, do so in an airtight container.  When ready to reheat, thaw the meat in the refrigerator overnight.  Reheat in a saucepan on the stove top, with a little water added to keep it moist.  Add the fresh toppings and these tacos are as delicious as they were during round one!  

**If you want to get really ambitious, you could even make your own tortillas.  Let's not even talk about how delicious THAT would be.  My favorite recipe for those is here.  (In my opinion, they taste just like Cafe Rio's, if you're familiar with that fresh Mexican chain.)  

***Recipe adapted from the one originally found here.

If you try them, let me know what you think!  

Everett Holden at Nine Months Old

 What can I say about this sweet, nine-month-old, squishy bundle of awesomeness?

For starters, his smile is like bottled sunshine.  Seriously.  How can you see this squinty-eyed smile and not just grin right back?

  

His fat rolls, as I predicted, look delectable in a vintage seersucker sun suit.

He is a perfect little brother, tolerating all of Kaden's attention, even when it's less than gentle.

And, surprisingly, with very little protest.  Seriously.  An encounter drew blood today, and in less than five seconds he was over it.

Maybe he is being prepared for a future in contact sports.

At nine months old, Everett . . .

Is a crawling fiend.  He is so fast.  He can get from point A to a more dangerous/hazardous point B with such speed and dexterity that I am definitely exhausted by the end of the day.  I spend most of his waking hours chasing after him, attempting to save him from impending doom.  Some of his favorite recent discoveries include, but are not limited to the following:  light sockets, electrical cords, the cabinet under the kitchen sink (filled with all kinds of cleaners, the garbage disposal, and other treasures), the off button on the computer, magazines (which he loves to shred, then taste test), and the tiny, perfectly choke-hazardous-sized door stoppers.

Has figured out how to start climbing the stairs.  Allow me to rephrase that in this way:  life as we know it is now over.

Can pull himself to standing and does this frequently.  He's even gotten brave and let go a few times and stood for a second or two, before chickening out and plopping back onto his bottom.  This has led to a few bumps and bruises, but nothing too terrible thus far.

Learned to clap his hands and loves to do this on command, with a big grin on his face.

Gets SUPER excited when Daddy comes home.
  

Has the loudest, most obnoxious scream when he gets angry.  We call it his Pterodactyl scream.  Not that we've ever heard this prehistoric flying creature's animal sound, but I'm pretty sure it sounded just like Everett does when he's mad.  We thought Everett was going to be our laid back blessing, after the challenge of Kade's strong will.  Alas, it seems Everett's going to have a stubborn streak of his own.  Occasions when he busts out the Pterodactyl scream include, but are not limited to the following:  when Kaden steals a toy he wants, when I move him away from something dangerous that he wants, when we aren't shoveling food (that he wants) onto his high chair tray fast enough, when we put him down for bed, and anytime he is overtired and needs a nap.  But he saves the best ones for church on Sunday, when it's nice and quiet.  

Is still very much a Mommy's boy, but has expanded his love circle a bit.

 Is an amazing eater. Pad Thai?  "Why yes, I think I'll have some."  Lime-zested sweet potatoes?  "These are scrumptious, bring me some more before I start Pterodactyl screaming."  His absolute favorite food right now seems to be fresh mandarin oranges.  I think he'd eat a dozen a day if I let him.
 

Starts shaking and opening and closing his hands as fast as he can when he sees something he wants.  It's hysterical.  He does this about lots of things, but most often when he's in the high chair anticipating a meal.

Fought like the dickens to earn his two bottom teeth.  We had several sad nights and super fussy days before those two suckers finally popped through.  His two top teeth are almost in, too, which means he's going to lose that gummy smile all together.  He's looking less and less like a baby these days.  I know I'm going to blink and he's going to turn into a big boy.

Does a great job sleeping through the night, unless we have company or are visiting somewhere.  He then decides to wake up at 2 a.m. and have a play date.  With me.  It's like he knows I can't let him cry it out when there's company to be disturbed.  Already manipulating the system at nine months old!  He also likes to have someone watch him fall asleep.  He'll cry after we put him down, then a few minutes later one of us will go in to pat his back and stroke his cheek for a bit.  He freaks out when we leave again, but usually calms right down and falls asleep soon after.

He's still a less than stellar napper, but we are getting two naps a day now pretty consistently, which I consider a victory.  A lot of the time he is still nursing to sleep. (A big no, no, I know, but I've embraced a new parenting philosophy:  do what works until it doesn't work anymore.  Then change things up.)  His naps are usually short (between 45 minutes to an hour), but at least he's napping.  This has been so hard for me to get used to.  When Kaden was this age, he slept for a couple of hours at least twice a day.  In hindsight, I took WAY too much credit for that.  Now, I realize he was just a naturally good sleeper.  We bought a special crib toy with lights and sounds (to replace the mobile he kept pulling over) and this seems to help him with self-soothing (both at night and for naps during the day).

Goes by many names:  Ev, Evers, Rhett, Rhetters, Rhett-Rhett, and Ebbett (his friend Mia's version of his name).

Melts my heart at least a million times a day.  I can't imagine life with out our little Evers.  I simply love this baby boy! 

Everett's Nine Month Stats:

Weight - 22 pounds 6 ounces (88th percentile)

Length - 28 inches (33rd percentile)

(I think his height may be off.  When I asked the doctor about this, he said it has something to do with the way the nurse measured him?  Sorry, Ev, if you inherited my shrimp genes, though.)

Head Circumference - 47 centimeters (95th percentile) 

Are you listening, World? It's me, Katie.

Dear Whoever Owns the White House with the Red Door Right when You Drive into Our Neighborhood,

Please put your shutters back up.  Please, please, pretty please.

I realize we live in Raleigh, not a small Southern town.  It's easy to pretend this is no longer the South, when half of our city's inhabitants are transplants from New York and New Jersey.  We may not have a BBQ joint on every corner serving up vinegar doused pig, but this is still North Carolina, and your house looks naked.

Sincerely,

Just Call Me Scarlet O'Hara

  

Dear Kaden,

When I escorted your chef-costumed self to the library's Storybook Ball last night, your little brother tagging along in what can only be described as a thrown together Cat in the Hat costume, I was thrilled to do so. The event was beyond darling, and I commend our fantastic library staff for putting on such a stellar shindig. There was just one moment that put a damper on the experience.  After waiting in a line for 30 plus minutes to meet Princess Elsa and Princess Anna (something you INSISTED you HAD to do, even after I tried to bribe convince you otherwise), I was a bit thrown off when you voiced that, "I'm just too scared, actually," when we reached the end of the torturous queue.  What gives?

Love,

Mommy        

Dear Homemade Ice Cream at the Wake Forest Festival,

You didn't taste homemade.  And you cost three dollars.

Just saying.

Yours Truly,
Should Have Just Hit up Chick-fil-A on the way Home


Dear Lemongrass Thai Leftovers,

It seems physically impossible, but I am going to venture to say that you tasted even better reheated the next day than you did in the restaurant on Friday night.  And you tasted pretty fantastic at first bite.

Sincerely,
I'll be Back Again


Dear Brucious,

Thanks for treating us to Thai Lemongrass.  We love it when you come to visit.

Love,
Katiewick