I Need a Chill Pill

Would that be a Xanax? Do you think that chocolate chips will do it? Does anyone else out there get absolutely crazy like I do at the holidays? It was only a few years ago that I realized what a complete, anxiety-ridden nutcase I am when left to my own devices. Somehow, I believe that:

• everything must be perfect in order for anyone to enjoy the holidays.
• it is up to me to make sure that everything is perfect.
• "perfect" means perfect. no room for error, a dirty bathroom, or a bad hair day.
• the more people that I can convince to come to my house for the holidays, the better, even though it will send me into a frenzy trying to make everything perfect for them, too.

My darling husband pointed out a few years ago that our little family feeds on my anxiety. You've heard the phrase, "When Momma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy"? (Pardon the terrible grammar.) I realized then that in my efforts to make everything perfect so everyone would be happy and look on the holidays with fondness, I was actually making people around me miserable because my stress levels were so high. And yet, even though I now know this cerebrally, I still in my gut believe that everything must be perfect.
HELP!
Every year I think of some way that I am going to reduce and simplify our holidays so that I will be less crazy. And every year I am still crazy. What's a girl to do? Don't get me wrong, I love this time of year (although it's hard to imagine why!)
Anyhow, does anyone else have Christmas-makes-me-crazy-itis? Does anyone know a good cure? I am really focusing on exercise, scripture study, and prayer, which really helps some days. But not all the time.
Picture above is of the pies that we made the for Thanksgiving. With the pies brought by guests, we had 14 pies and 1 cheesecake. Yikes!

A Big Thank You

Wow! What an ego boost. I feel so loved and supported. Who knew that the best way to fish for compliments and validation is to be insulted by someone online?:) You guys are the best. I have had so many comments and emails from you that it's really touching. The next time I'm feeling down on myself, I'm just going to go back and read all your comments.
I realize that I haven't posted a recipe in a while, especially an original recipe instead of just linking you to my fave Cooking Light or Bon Appetit recipe. Here is one of my favorite good-for- you (mostly) comfort foods. It's a recipe that I came up with a few years ago when I was on a great weight loss jag (before having a couple more babies and gaining it all back again.) I like it because most vegetable lasagnes call for a cream sauce, but this one uses lighter marinara.
Even if the people at your house think they only like meat filled lasagnes, this is worth a try. My DH loves it and he is most definitely a carnivore.

Roasted Vegetable Lasagne

• 1 medium eggplant, sliced
  
• 2 medium zucchini, sliced
  
• 2 medium yellow crook neck squash, sliced
  
• 1-2 large red onion or sweet onion, sliced or diced
  
• 1 cup crimini mushrooms, sliced
• 1 cup grape or cherry tomatoes
  
• 1 T. fresh minced garlic
• about 4 cups marinara sauce (I like Trader Joe's in the green can)
• olive oil
  
• kosher salt
• 2 cups reduced fat ricotta cheese
• 2-3 cups grated mozzarella cheese
• 1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
  
• 1 egg
• 1/4 cup fresh basil, sliced in ribbons and/or fresh spinach
  
• no boil lasagne or whole wheat lasagne (about 1/2 package)

Spray a large jelly roll pan with olive oil spray (or put down foil, then spray.) Place all of the vegetables and garlic on the pan. Drizzle with a few tablespoons olive oil and sprinkle with kosher salt. Toss to coat. Place in 400 degree oven for 30-40 minutes, until the vegetables are nicely browned.

In a small mixing bowl, combine the ricotta, Parmesan, egg, 1/2 cup of the mozzarella, and the basil or spinach. Mix well.

Layer the lasagne thusly: marinara, pasta, half of the vegtables, half of the cheese mixture. Repeat. On top, add another layer of pasta and marinara, then top with remaining mozzarella. Bake in 350 oven for about 40 minutes, until cheese browns. Remove from oven and let sit for 10 minutes before serving. Serve with crusty bread or breadsticks and a green salad.

• Note: If I were serving this at someone else's house, I'd put some crushed red pepper in as well. But, since I live here, I just add a sprinkle of it to my own serving.
  

Nursing My Wounds

After my last post, someone anonymously left me a hurtful and critical comment. When I read it, I was so stunned and hurt that I immediately deleted it. Later, I wondered if that was censoring something in order to paint a rosier picture of myself, which was not my intent. I just somehow hoped that if I deleted it, it couldn't hurt me anymore. Alas, the words have haunted me for two days now.
I will admit that part of it is that I want everyone to like me. Shameless, but true. So the fact that someone out there doesn't like me hurts, even though I think it's perfectly reasonable that everyone out there doesn't like everyone else.
But beyond that, I keep wondering if what they said was true? Do I come across as smug? I certainly don't mean to. What I am trying to achieve through this blog is:

• to stand up for motherhood as a divine calling
• to support other moms (and be supported by them) who are struggling with the same things I am
• to find the humor and the joy in the everyday events of my life
• to share our goings on with family and friends
• to inspire others as well as myself to be a little better
  

I am not trying to put myself out there as someone you all should aspire to be like, nor to say that I am the ideal mother. I don't feel remotely smug, so I was bothered by the accusation and wonder if I am poorly communicating my true feelings. And struck by the irony of the comment, so recently after posting about how hurtful words can be.
In reality, I just need to get over it and stop caring if someone out there finds me smug or irritating. I have spent too much time since that comment thinking about myself and nursing my wounds. Time to look outside of myself and to lift someone else. Enough about me.

A Work in Progress

No one needed Wednesday's post yesterday more than I. It was just a tough day from the morning on. I had been up too much in the night with sick kids and skipped the gym for the first time this week--I'm trying to get there five days a week. Kimball was wound up from the moment he got up. I tried cramming in homeschool work before I watched a friend's kid at nine a. m., even though I should know better than to push him when he's anxious and hyper like that. I was also trying to finish a project for Christmas that had a deadline of today, and mid-afternoon I had to start it over from scratch. Anyway, the kids and I were feeding on each other's negative energy and I had to stop and breathe and say a silent prayer several times throughout the day. Unfortunately, many of those times I didn't stop and look for my cool until after I'd already lost it. Oh well. Better luck today. Even though I still have lots to do on the project today and some other things thrown in, I am determined to be calm and not stress out or lose my cool with my sweet little ones. They are more important than any Christmas project. Now, if I can just remember that in the heat of the moment, the day should go just fine.
Motherhood and being the mother I want to be is most definitely a work in progress.

Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones . . .

I was touched by Coconutannie's post today, which I discovered on David's post of the day. How often, as a mother, I consider the power of my words, for good or ill, on my children. That is not to say that I never say things to my children that I regret, sometimes instantly. I think that most of us struggle to curb our tongues, particularly in times of passion.
In April of this year, Elder Jeffrey R. Holland gave an amazing talk on the subject, which I have read and reread many times since. It helps me to remember the power of words and the responsibility that I have as a mother to use my words wisely and lovingly as I rear and nurture my children. This paragraph in particular emphasizes the influence of our words on our children:

• "We must be so careful in speaking to a child. What we say or don't say, how we say it and when is so very, very important in shaping a child's view of himself or herself. But it is even more important in shaping that child's faith in us and their faith in God. Be constructive in your comments to a child—always. Never tell them, even in whimsy, that they are fat or dumb or lazy or homely. You would never do that maliciously, but they remember and may struggle for years trying to forget—and to forgive. And try not to compare your children, even if you think you are skillful at it. You may say most positively that 'Susan is pretty and Sandra is bright,' but all Susan will remember is that she isn't bright and Sandra that she isn't pretty. Praise each child individually for what that child is, and help him or her escape our culture's obsession with comparing, competing, and never feeling we are 'enough.'"

It is my daily prayer that the Lord will help me hold my tongue and think before I speak; that I will not lash out in anger at my children, nor snap at my husband; that I will be careful of the words that I speak about others.
Thank you, CoconutAnnie, for reminding us of this important principle. It pertains to all, but is even more critical for those of us with the blessed calling and responsibility of parenthood.

Guess Who's Coming?

In our home, we neither teach about Santa, nor against him. We read plenty of books (at Christmastime) with Santa in them, but there is no talk about what Santa is going to bring our children unless it is initiated by them. They seem to pick up on the idea at school, and each have made their own choice as to what they believe Santa to be. Call us humbugs, but it's the way I was raised and it works for us. We try to focus on the Savior and on the joy that comes from buying or making gifts for each other, on keeping surprises secret, and on serving others in need. I'm not saying that your family doesn't do that if you are way into Santa, it's just our way.
Anyway, yesterday on the way home from preschool, here is the conversation between Ian and me, who is obviously too young to remember the Christmas books from last year:

• Ian: Momma, guess who's coming to our Christmas party?
• Me: Who?
• Ian: Santa!
• Me: Wow! Who's Santa?
• Ian: I think she's a little girl who's coming to preschool with me.
• Me: Ian, Santa's not a little girl, he's a man!
• Ian: No she's not!

I decided to wait and let his brothers set him straight so that they would be teaching the doctrine of Santa instead of me! Otherwise, Ian will sure be confused when instead of a cute little girl, a fat, loud, man with a beard shows up at the Christmas party!

On the Lookout for Predators

In the car on Thanksgiving Day, headed home from Grammy & Papa's house, Kimball announced:

• I see a kidnapper's truck!
• How do you know it's a kidnapper's truck?
• Because the sign on the back says: Stop. Watch for Kids!
  

Bogged Down with Life

I am sorry that I have been such a slacker blogger lately. Besides having lots to do (as you all do at this time of year,) the posts that I have knocking around in my head right now will take some real time and effort to get just right, and I want to do that. But I haven't had the time and effort to give them and therefore, I haven't been posting. In the meantime, it is fairly obvious that I have lost all my readers but two or three. I can't say I blame you. I'm going to put a Thanksgiving poll up on my site, basically just to see if anyone is still out there, so if you are still hanging in there with me, please respond to the poll.
I hope you are all reading Erin's holiday blog on Rachael Ray. At least she's posting, even if I'm not.
Tomorrow is the day I make pies, lots of pies. My sister, Alli, my sister-in-law, Erika, my mom, and I will gather together and make pies and listen to Christmas carols (Sorry, Suldog,) and relish in the together time. Here's a link to my favorite traditional pecan pie--the reason it is the best you'll ever taste is that the pecans are toasted. It makes all the difference. I'll also be making a couple of Mary Jeane's famous apple pies, but I can't post the recipe without her permission. Maybe another time.

A Marketing Campaign Begins

Recently, my dearest sister, Alli, and her darling husband, Flint, moved to the area from LA. Flint asked me how it is that I have successfully recruited them (and our mom, who plans to retire here in 2008.) I gave him all my tips of luring them up for a visit and making everything perfect, then casually showing them a neighborhood they'd love and pointing out how inexpensive the homes are (it helps if they are currently living in a market like Los Angeles.)
Yesterday, he took this photo and emailed it to his entire family with this caption:

Come to Sacramento, it's different out here!He's got them all coming for the "perfect visit" next week, where they will be wowed by Allison's amazing cooking, charmed by a visit to Apple Hill and to Cornish Christmas, and impressed with home prices (it's a good thing they aren't coming from Kentucky instead.) And we have the most cheerful graffiti around!

Older than Dirt

Overheard this afternoon in our home:

• Kimball: Henry, did you know that Mom lived in the time of Spencer W. Kimball?

• Henry: Really? You mean Mom lived in olden times? (he pauses to take it in, then says, in awe,) Wow.