Soup for the Soul... and my fridge.

After a year of breast feeding, and then having a walking toddler, it seems that I'm always hungry, and usually filling up on goldfish crackers instead of a real meal.  I also forget to pee, but that's fine because I hardly drink water anymore, so hey.  No food means I get cranky... and nobody, I mean NOBODY likes a cranky mama. I started making soups each week to keep in my fridge so that I could just warm up a bowl for lunch.  Fast, easy, and little thought.  This soup is my favorite and is also my go-to recipe when I'm making a meal for a friend who is sick, or just had a baby, etc.  It's also one of Baylor's faves.

Allison's Chicken Tortilla Soup

I buy the Knorr chicken bullion cubes from the store, but you can get concentrated chicken broth packs from trader joes if that's where you shop.  All of this can be found at tjs.

6 cups chicken stock (6 cups water, 3 knorr cubes)
2/3 cup white rice
1 can fire roasted tomatoes (you can buy the spicy ones if you like an extra kick!)
1 can black beans (rinsed)
1 can corn (drained)
1 chopped onion
1 tsp cumin
1 tsp chili powder
2 tbs lime juice
1 shredded chicken breast (or, sometimes I'll use a rotisserie chicken and the meat is super soft and almost disintegrates into the soup, but that chicken is super salty on it's own, so add an extra cup of water, or only do 2.5 cubes of knorr and 6 cups of water, just fyi).
Sliced avocado,  crumbled tortilla chips, cheese, cilantro for topping if you like!

I throw everything (except chicken breast) into a pot, cover and bring it to a boil for 30 mins to make sure the rice is cooked, then I lower the heat and let it just simmer for a couple of hours. I add chick breast after I cook it in a pan on the burner and shred it... approx 15 mins into the soup cooking.  It can be ready to eat in an hour if you don't have lots of time.

Let me know if you have any questions! 

My Bay-be

My baby is now a kid.  A boy.  I don't know how it happened, or when, but he's big and smart and amazing me every day.  Singing in the car, operating a laptop or an ATV, helping me put groceries in the cart, or requesting a napkin for his lap - he's big.

Why does it feel so scary to watch them grow up?  Movie after book after mother weeping at her child's wedding - I now understand the upset of raising a child and having them leave.  I know I'm a little ahead of myself here... he's only 2 and a half... but I'm seeing his passions, his sense of humor and his obsession with "getting bigger." 

He told me yesterday that he had finished all of his dinner so that he could grow bigger and be big like me.  He also told me that he would have hair in his armpits some day and then I got grossed out.  I don't want him to have hair anywhere but his head.

I'm so lucky to have a healthy, beautiful, growing child, I know.  I'm in amazement that I could create something so wonderful.

I started thinking about day-to-day life as a mom.  I am lucky to be able to work less than 20 hours per week and stay at home with him during the day.  The question often comes up - so you stay at home with him - what do you do all day? 

I remember when I worked for the real estate developer.  Every day was busy... emails, facebooking, conference calls, spreadsheets, meetings - the work never ended and I felt this sense of pressure and stress to complete all of my tasks.  It's the same with being at home.  I feel stress and pressure to make sure the toys are away, to make sure lunch is at 12:15 and that my laundry is done and put away.  Nobody comes over every day... it's not like I host gatherings or guests from out of town.  There really isn't a reason to vacuum at 5pm every other day, other than to make sure it looks clean and that I have done my jobs.  It gives me a sense of importance and structure.  It's the same way while I nanny.  Sure, I'm playing with play doh and blocks, but it's important to be engaged with the babes while they play and to make up fun stories about elephants who can fly.  It may not be the same as making million dollar decisions on which finishes will look best in a high end condo unit, but it's my new job and it's important.

We're watching Finding Nemo (for the hundredth time) because it's 6:30am... the beginning of my 14 hour work day.  Baylor has started making himself the main character of any movie or show we watch, "look, mom, I'm swimming away from the whale."  His imagination, sincerity in his beliefs and need to tell me which characters are good and bad remind me that he is changing and maturing every day.  The mess is worth it... the sleepless nights are fine... only buying sencond hand clothes - who cares?  It's a pretty fun gig, and it isn't going to be here forever.

I remember holding his whole body on my lap - even stretched out he didn't fill the space.  Now he's almost too heavy for me to hold, but I don't ever want to put him down.

REAL-ationship Reel

Holy smokes, I've got the jitters.  I am on day nine of a very nasty, terrible cold and I stopped drinking coffee and alcohol cold turkey so that I could protect my clearly weak immune system.  That is until I had a strong latte this morning after a long night of no sleep with my sweet little child.  Now I'm pumped up and ready to buzz around... except I have nowhere to go.  I'm also sweating... not so sure I've missed you, coffee.

I've decided to write a weekly piece about relationships.  I am no expert, at all, really.  But I took enough psychology classes in college to make it my major and I'm going back for my masters degree this fall for couples and family therapy, so maybe I'm "in training" to become an expert?  Man,  I hope I can call myself an expert some day.  Either way, I find relationship troubles fascinating and also find that I can't help myself when it comes to advice.  The words start pouring out of my mouth and imaginary little glasses appear on my nose and meditation rocks are sitting next to my antique thinking chair on a side table that also hold a box of tissues (it's like a combo of my favorite parts of all of my therapist's offices).  I flip on my therapist switch and it feels so good.  Again, I have no idea what I'm talking about, really, but I've had enough of my own relationship troubles and a few life experiences to know a little about a little.  I'd also love to hear what other people think... call it "taking real life notes" from the crowd.  So please, let me know what you think... I did!

Carrie and Ken

The Scoop:  Carrie and Ken have only been married for a year.  Carrie called me the other day to let me know that she feels like something is missing in her relationship with her husband... she doesn't even want to kiss him.  They spend almost all of their time together because they both work from home.  The very last thing Carrie wants at the end of the day - a day where she woke up next to Ken, ate breakfast with Ken, brushed her teeth with Ken and then worked next to Ken, only to get into bed next to him again at the end of it - is to have him literally all over her.  Their physical intimacy is gone.  She loves him and feels important to him.  She's not mad at him.  It's just that they are overexposed and she doesn't have that excitement that she once used to.

What I Told Her:  Physical intimacy doesn't have to only be sex.  It can come as a back massage or holding hands at random times during the day. Sometimes going away for a weekend by yourself to get a break (and yes, I think a small break is a-ok) so that you start to miss the other person a little can create excitement.  I also told her to build up a little tension once in a while by sending a dirty text, even though he's just at his computer in the other room - make it playful.  Getting out of the house alone to do something fun... a date... can help to make the relationship feel special again.  When a woman is mad, she pulls away and doesn't want to "get close" to her man, while most men need that physical connection to reassure them that everything is ok.  It's like nature's little way of forcing us to get everything out in the open... or stay miserable and lonely in a relationship.  Carrie and Ken are in a funk... and I think they should mix it up a little to get things back on track.

Real experts say that passion in a relationship lasts about six months... and in rare cases up to two years.  Just like everything else in a relationship, passion takes work, creativity, communication, and a little compromise.  First things first, talk about it with your hubby, Carrie... let him know how you are feeling and come up with a plan for passion.  I hope it works!

Where's my.... BRAIN?!

I'm a wreck.  No really, I am.

I don't know what happened to me, but I have never been organized.  I always turned my homework in on time, I like my house clean, and am usually pretty punctual (very punctual before Baylor), but have never known where my keys ran off to, or what happened to my friggin' phone. It seems that the important items in my life have lives of their own and fit me in when it is convenient for them.

My mom isn't the most organized either.  I'm going to go ahead and blame her for not teaching me how to label or hang my clothes in groups by color.  Although, my sister keeps everything together and we grew up in the same household, so I guess my blaming game isn't going to get me very far.  I blame my birthday... Leos aren't the most structured people.  We're more social!  More about fun!  Except when being unorganized totally ruins the fun and you just end up feeling like a loser.

I realized my passport was lost in 2010 when I missed a trip to Mexico with 10 of my friends.  Sucked to be me.  You'd think I would have run out and replaced that cute little blue book so that something like that didn't happen again... but it costs money, and I haven't been rolling in the dough, so I just put it off until I decided I'd be traveling internationally again. 

My best friend Jen invited Toby and I to Whistler, Canada with her and her boyfriend.  I've had notice.  Known about the trip.  She sent organized emails.  Details. Time lines. Rental numbers and prices for skis.  I decided that I'd just get my passport card, or Enhanced Driver's License.  I read on the site that you can get it the same day if you go to a certain office downtown.  So I waited.  Procrastinated. What was the rush?

Upon looking at all of the requirements online while I was just trying to find the office address, I saw that I needed my birth certificate.  No problem!  I'd just grab it from my files and get the whole thing done.  Oh crap... can't find it.

A notary, check, and form later, I mailed my birth certificate request to San Diego.  It said it would be here in three weeks at the longest and I had three weeks and three days until it was time to drive up to the snowy peaks.

I was going to use my sister's passport if I didn't receive my docs by "go time."  But then I read that I could spend up to a year in jail if I got caught.  So... that won't work.

Here I am, on Tuesday... supposed to leave on Friday.  No birth certificate.  No passport.  No enhanced license.  No trip to Whistler with my favorite people. If my birth certificate comes tomorrow, I can totally pay $550 to get my passport expedited for Friday.  You know, just $550.

What is wrong with me?  Why didn't I get this taken care of before?  Why didn't I just mail in the documents when I missed the Mexican vacation 18 months ago?  Who am I?!  I feel so stupid! So dumb.

On top of all of this, I got my hair cut on Sunday and I hate it.  Absolutely hate it.  I feel like Rachel from Friends in 1998.  It's weird. 

New lesson: Don't wait until the last minute.  Just don't do it. I'm going to reprogram my brain, I swear!  Or get a personal assistant...

Potty Talk

I can only remember peeing my pants once.  Though I'm sure it happened multiple times as a toddler transitioning out of diapers, the only time I remember was when I was eight years old.  I was at my best friend Gena's house for the first time and we were walking down her street pushing dolls in strollers.  I can't remember what let the warmth take over my jeans and then turn to cold, but it happened and I was mortified.  I immediately tried to locate a small puddle to "fall" in so that I could wash away the urine with road water and nobody would know what had happened.  I think I found a small circle of water in the road, and sat down in it, but Gena's mom still knew what had happened.  She lovingly changed my clothes and didn't mention it at all. 

Potty training is gross.  It really is.  There's so much discussion about pee-pee and poo-poo and pull-ups, diapers, big boy underwear and wearing nothing but pants.  There's a plethora of choices, and so many suggestions and methods for kicking the Pampers.  Everything I've read says not to push them (especially boys) if they're not ready, so I keep giving in to whatever mood he's in regarding what to wear under his pants.  We're on week three or four of consistently going pee in the potty, and number two only a few times.  We still need a pull-up for that.  He has tried standing to pee, which is very messy.  He sits and then says he needs to wipe, which is hard to explain why he doesn't need to and that only girls do - but in reality, there's sort of pee all over, so maybe wiping when he's done would be helpful?  He wants to do it by himself, so sometimes, he concentrates so hard that his shirt falls into the stream and he stands up so proud of the pool in the potty with a huge wet circle across his belly. There's urine all over my bathroom and thank goodness I didn't invest in a fancy bath mat - it's sort of become his drip mat.

We've only had one accident, and he peed all over my couch.  That was a neat clean up process.

When did privacy, shame, embarrassment and bodily function independence come into play?  After Bay peed on our couch, he was devastated.  I told him it was fine, changed him, gave him a smooch and told him to try to go to the potty next time, and then we turned on some music and started stripping the cushions.  He cried and apologized, and then he refused to wear anything but a diaper for the next day or so for fear that he'd lose control again.  He was embarrassed. My innocent little sweet baby was embarrassed. 

Now he's telling me to leave and shut the door when he goes potty.  He asks for a napkin to wipe his face if a crumb lingers.  He asks me if his clothes "look cool."  A baby he is not... an aware member of society he is becoming.  He cares what people think... only a little, but still.  I knew it was only a matter of time, but it just happens so quickly.  I wish I could protect him from ever being embarrassed and shield him from shame (maybe shame is alright...).  I want him to remember to be himself and to own up to his decisions and that deviating from the "norm" is a-ok with me if it's what works for him.  I'd never given all of it much thought until I saw the devastation in his face after he turned my couch into a urinal. It was like he was hunting for that puddle to sit down in - to blame it on something else.

So many transitions.  I told him he can sleep in a big boy bed when he doesn't need diapers anymore - but really I'm just stalling on the big boy bed because I don't want him standing at my pillow at 5am to say "good morning."  I'll probably just get on amazon right now and buy a book about that too.  But then what if he starts wetting the bed?  Geez.  After potty training and big boy beds, am I done with big changes?  What comes next?  Right when I think I'm caught up, something else changes and I'm scrambling to adjust.  I guess this is called parenthood. 

Ok gotta run... I have to pee.

TwentyTwelve

My New Year's resolution was going to be to stop talking smack about people.  It's not really talking "smack" as much as it's just talking about people because I like to know what's happening.  Occasionally I will be harshly judgemental and critical and share my two cents with whoever is sharing, while still acting nice to someone's face - and that's what I'm going to try my hardest to eliminate.  It's just nasty.  I did, however, sit next to two women in their late 20s who discussed every person that they knew and what was wrong with them during breakfast.  They covered whose wedding would be fun in 2012, who was bound to break up (Allison and Dave are totally out), and when they think they'll find their next boyfriends.  They typed all of these conversations out into a Word document and had a total of six pages when I walked past their laptop and took a hard glance on what was happening on the screen.  That, my friends, is really talking smack.  I've got nothin' on them and may have to come up with a new resolution because their show this morning made me feel like a saint.

It's funny how much hype people create about new year's eve.  Saying "goodbye" to a year as if things are going to be totally different when they wake up on the 1st. And then "2012 is going to be great, I know it!" covers facebook as soon as we wake.  Maybe if they say it, it will be true?  I suppose there's good intention here and it's better than waking up with the glass half empty, but I've learned that there's just no way to know what to expect and all I can do is roll with the punches.  But I'll say it anyway, "2012 is going to be epic."  There.  So now it better be.

After an evening of dinner and parties, Toby and I rowed out into Lake Union from his house boat to watched the fireworks explode into the clear night. We held each other, both bundled in sweatshirts and life jackets and he told me how much he loves and appreciates me... and my family. I told him that I've never been happier. And then people in the house boat behind us started jumping into the lake.

I clicked back through some of my posts and re-read the one from last new year's day.  I can remember what I was wearing when I wrote it.  I remember typing the words.  I remember wondering what I would be doing on January 1, 2012.  I remember it like it was yesterday, and yet so much has changed this past year.

I've learned that...

Having a child is the most incredible journey that anyone can take.
Singing in the car is a must... especially if it's to the Lion King.
No means NO.
Being patient will get you anywhere.
A good vacuum is a life saver.
Abuse can come in many shapes, sizes, genders, and roles... get away as fast as you can.
Always having goldfish on you can get anyone out of low blood sugar crankies.
It's hard to read anything after reading The Hunger Games.
Potty training is a bitch. And so is still changing diapers.
Santa Claus is real.
Throwing things away is just fine.  Great, in fact.  Especially toys.
Value Village is my heaven.
I love being back in a classroom.
It doesn't matter how small my boobs are now... because I remember how they used to be.
Nice guys are best.
Asking for help doesn't make you weak... and living on a budget doesn't make you lame.
Whoever thought the twos were terrible clearly never had children. 

2011 was full of fun, love, new friends, new relationships, and constant learning.  I've never been more stressed, overwhelmed, or busy in my life and I have a feeling this pace is not getting slower any time soon. 

I just hope that Mayan calendar is a bunch of crap and I'll remember writing this post during the Bachelor (does anyone else think this Ben guy is weird looking?) next year.  May you all be happy and healthy in 2012!

Decked.

Holy POW, Batman, it has been a wild week... and a little emotionally exhausting, actually.

I found out that my best friend's mom has cancer on Thursday, and on Friday I sat in a court room for two hours with my son's dad to meet with a judge for a whole 3.5 seconds to finalize and file our parenting plan.  A plan that he told me immediately afterward he'd just broken by introducing the woman he's dating to our son well before the 12 week rule.  Mama bear came out.  She did.  She's still out.  Don't mess with my baby.  And don't mess with the rules.

Christmas was rushed and not exactly picturesque.  My parents are divorced meaning there's a couple of houses we have to stop by each year.  This also means my mom has to attend Christmas at her boyfriend's house, and then I have to hand over my sweet baby to his dad on Christmas morning.  It's a lot of factors for one holiday. We had the family over to my house on Christmas Eve from 2pm-7pm because it's the only time that fit. We tore through presents and then sat to eat the pot roast I'd been cooking all day. We may have also given my brother's girlfriend of 2 years a couple of vodka cranberries to catch up with us upon her arrival.  Apparently she doesn't drink much and spent the majority of the time in the bathroom...  She totally missed her family dinner and I'm doubting she woke up jolly on Christmas morning.  SO sorry about that!  It also could have been the jack in the box she had for lunch, right?

On top of all of this, the love of my life was taken off of the market.  A man I've loved for over 10 years.  He's witty, sweet, talented, and gorgeous.  While my teeth were getting drilled on at the dentist, or during each contraction during labor, it was his face that I'd imagine.  His lips I'd pretend to kiss on my fist that I'd turn into a mouth.  Each time I'd catch wind of a break up from one of his long term girlfriends, I'd have a little party in my heart.  He's the backdrop on my google homepage, and it's the only rolling stone cover I've ever kept.  I remember when his manager, Joe (if that was even his real name), met me at the hotel their group was staying at in 2003.  I was so set on meeting my one true love, I went on and on about how I'd do anything to meet him.  Joe showed me his phone and the schedule of their appearances on late shows and special events.  But that was it.  As I saw nothing coming of my new friendship with Joe, I sadly returned to my room.  The room phone rang... it was JOE.  He so kindly offered his body in exchange for a hand shake with my love.  Knowing that he would never want to marry me if I'd slept with his manager, I kindly turned him down (and wondered how the hell he had known which room we were staying in).  That was the closest I've ever come to the LOML.

Jessica Biel, you are one lucky lady.  I promise to not show up at your wedding with my Justin Timberlake wearing white.  Promise.  I know a guy who knows Jessica's brother, and I promise not to stalk anyone for the details about the nuptials.  Promise.  I'm just going to go cry a little (more) right now while holding my framed photo of the most wonderful man alive, who I've never even met.

Although there have been bits of drama and heartache, this month has been full of fun and magic.  There's nothing better than a two-year-old learning about Santa and his reindeer. His face was priceless when he woke up up Christmas morning to find the bike, fire truck, and remote control car that he'd told Santa about just weeks ago.  He agreed that the elves must have been worried about the car falling out of the package because they reinforced it with screws (really, screws?) and the plastic that you cannot break without a tool.  He has been screaming about each house that has lights, and the blow up snowmen on the lawn have been a real hit.  There's nothing like reliving Christmas through the eyes of your little one.  It has been a magical holiday... and I'm still going to play jingle bells throughout the year because it's his new favorite song.

Ho Ho Ho... you may kiss the bride!

As the end of 2011 nears, I've said goodbye to a few things already.  One of them is milk... because it really jacks my stomach.  I've welcomed Almond Milk to my refrigerator as it has more calcium and vitamin D, and no sugar.  More room for candy... hello.

I feel like the last two weeks have been like watching that one stupid news broadcaster try to maintain balance in a hurricane in their red or green coat issued by the network.  I've been like the hair on the head of the news broadcaster, flying around in the air, out of control.  Take this example as an apology if I've missed your call and failed to return it or completely ignored an email from you.  It wasn't intentional, it was survival.

One of my best friends from Whidbey, Callie, got married last weekend in Sunriver, Oregon.  What a fantastic place!  It was as gorgeous as she was - except she was more covered in white one because it hadn't snowed yet and everything was brown.  I suppose she'll be brown once she returns from her sunny honeymoon.  A stunning wedding...

It was amazing and even more fun because of the mix of friends that had gathered to celebrate with them. They live in San Diego, so the "California Crew" flew up and were just way more fun than us.  It's true.

us.

them.

The day after the wedding, we all met in the Village at the skating rink.  Christmas songs were sung by the trees and lights covered the buildings that the colorful train drove between.  At one point, my sister looked across the skating rink at the ten or so "Cali Crew" that were taking a skate break against the rail and said exactly what we were all thinking, "I don't know why, but I like them all so much more than us.  They are way more fun.  Just look at them... skating with zero inhibition.  Even attempting triple axles and backwards skating.  I'd never do that... I have weak ankles."  They had stayed up until 6am that morning, after the wedding, and were bright eyed and bushy tailed ready for their next adventure.  None of them must have kids... now it takes me days, weeks, sometimes months to recover from an all-nighter.  But, I'd never try a triple axle, not even before kids.

It was the most fantastic 16 hours total I've ever spent in a car... wonderful people and new friends... the weirdest clothes I've ever packed for a trip (keep reading)... and eight of us hanging in a beautiful home with high ceilings, lots of bathrooms, and plenty of alcohol.

At 7pm the night before I left for the wedding, I completed my final exam for the psychology class that I took this fall.  I hadn't exactly read all of the chapters before the exam, and decided to cram 150 text book pages into the final 48 hours before the test.  I should write Disney and thank them for providing entertainment for my son while I read next to him on the couch.  I was also recovering from a gnarly cold that left Baylor on antibiotics and me sleep deprived and cranky. I was also trying to get my house, suitcase, and fake tan ready for a 4 days trip for the wedding. I was a mess.

To avoid leaving anyone in suspense, I am happy to say that I got a 96% on my test, and a big fat 4.0 in my class.  That's right, the straightest "A" around.  I'm going to miss my class so very much.  It was so hard to say goodby! Five hours every week I was able to sit in front of a brilliant woman (really, she is amazing... she knows everything about everything.  I asked if I could just sit in her other classes and listen without doing any work.  She laughed at me...) and learn about things that I find fascinating.  It was killer.

And now it's time for Christmas.  My sister and I forced the other passengers in our car to stop by a TJ Max in Oregon so we wouldn't have to pay tax on some of the things we didn't even want to buy.  We loaded up on gifts and were out of there in an hour.  I hate the gift portion of the program.  I felt like I just blew a bunch of cash on a load of shit that nobody really cares about (ok, I hope they do), and for what?  To prove that I love them?  I say that I'm going to bake cookies or make a craft for everyone to bring back the true meaning of Christmas, but then I run out of time, and buying my stepmom new PJs online is a lot easier than trying to do a hand painted pattern on the side of a vase with acrylic paint.  You know?

Baylor memorized jingle bells, we decorated our tree, he sat on Santa's lap, and is getting everything he asked for on Christmas morning.  I wrote "To Bay.  Love, MOM" on his gifts under the tree and it really made me feel like a parent.  I've never listened to Christmas songs more than I have this year and I've been baking cookies just to make my house smell cozy.  Now that my class is over, the only thing on my list is to enjoy the holiday season... oh, and kick this new round of a cold that I got from staying up until 1am three nights in a row.  What on earth was I thinking?!