I Can Do Hard Things

In different stages of my life I have imagined different applicable mantras stenciled into the walls of my home. Since I've been renting my entire adult life, these mantra-stencils remain imaginary. On the walls of my current home are imaginary-stenciled the words:

I Can Do Hard Things.

Living in the city is not convenient. In order to enjoy it all and finally adjust, I had to realize that just because simple things like getting in the car or grocery shopping aren't easy, it doesn't mean I can't do it. It just means it's hard. This mantra has opened up a lot of doors for me.

Today I think I'll share some personal thoughts from my journal. Some of you may think this is being a little too "open", but I'm a believer in being candid and not pretending that everything is always perfect. You will find, in the end, that everything, is, indeed, wonderful.

These are excerpts from Monday, April 6, 2009:

I'll never forget the moment I got a positive pregnancy test for the first time. In the Briar Ave bathroom, Spencer close behind me. I checked the little stick... The line was barely there, but it was there. I remember the feeling of relief and pure, new excitement and joy. There were no feelings of confusion or fear, just joy and yearning for all that was to soon be.

Then the second time: it had been a long 6 months. Month after month we had failed. Month after month the anxiety had built and expectations had solidified and each time it all crashed down with the knowledge that it would be at least another 28 days of anxiety. By the time this month had rolled along, I had finally overdosed on anxiety and had no expectations... [When the test showed positive] we smiled and kissed and felt that all was finally right. We cheered that the next addition to our family was finally on her way, and so welcome, too. We felt thankful that I hadn't gotten pregnant when I wanted to, as I would have been nearly full-term at a time that just didn't make sense. We could see that, now.

Today: Spencer came to me this morning in the kitchen and suggested I take a test before he goes to school, since today was the day that he had to submit a $1000.00 deposit for our South African travel abroad program we had happily been accepted to for next winter semester (which would mean we would get there in December). Since we knew that [a pregnancy] would be the one thing that would change those plans without doubt, we thought we'd better be sure. I watched the lines [on the pregnancy test] form. I saw one form in the first window and one in the second window. I ordered Spencer to grab the box so I could check what the results meant.

Positive? What? That wasn't supposed to happen! I said to Spencer over and over, "Is this a joke? This has got to be a joke." And then I laughed uncontrollably. Spencer had a very happily surprised look on his face and he grabbed my face and buried his face in the crook of my neck and told me he was happy about it. I began to feel feverish. I began to shake and feel faint. I fell to my knees. I believe I was literally in shock, now that I think about it. Spencer came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. "You can do hard things," He reminded me .... I was so grateful for his calming influence and his general excitement about our news.

I told him to get me another test immediately. I must have done something wrong, I thought. I knew that was completely ridiculous and yet I believed it. I called Robyn and asked to borrow one (as I know that, like me, she keeps them on hand :) ). She agreed to trade me for two packages of Ramen [you can see how casual an occurrence it is for me to call and ask for a pregnancy test!] and Spencer returned home with a test quickly. Meanwhile I drank and drank and drank and drank so that I could take the test. Of course it was positive. I knew it would be...

I was sad that my body was not mine like I had planned for it to be this year. I was shocked that Campbell would only be about 16 1/2 months old on my due date. Cadence herself would only be 3 1/2 and not as much help as I had expected she would be the third time around. We wouldn't get to go to South Africa.

But we would have a baby! Another amazing little spirit joining our family. Another little being for me to love with all my heart and to nurture and learn from and to see Spencer do the same with. Another little reason to laugh, smile, another thing to hug and kiss all day and night. It would be hard, but we're not talking about a challenge at work or school here, we're talking about a baby, and it will be worth it. Although my pregnancies are difficult, I've come to appreciate that the sacrifices I make in pregnancy: from the nausea and fatigue to the fatness and backaches, each little discomfort brings me closer to my babies and teaches me to forget myself for the good of the one who is coming forth from me.

I can't wait to get to know the little spirit that just couldn't wait to join our family and to see what kind of new ingredients he or she adds to our mix. You shocked me nearly to death, my little surprise, but you are as welcome as can be.

So there you have it. I'm ten weeks pregnant today as I post this. I am definitely feeling it, but I'm happy to report that so far this pregnancy hasn't been quite as bad (sick-wise) as the last. In fact, I suspect that for the first time I will actually gain weight in my first half of the pregnancy.

Spencer has made every effort to be around to help as much as possible, and Trevor provides some valuable help, too (Spencer does floors, Trevor does dishes, etc.). My friends in my ward are bringing us meals twice a week, and friends in and out of the ward have offered to take my kids whenever I need some time to rest. I'm so grateful for all the help I've had. It takes a village. Seriously.

Oh, I guess I should mention that the due date is Dec. 9.

Oh, and you should know that we are not going to find out the sex of this baby until he/she is born. We just thought we'd go along with the theme: SURPRISE!

Shoes are to Women as _____ is to Men.

Did you read my last blog? It was fascinating. If you read it, you know the answer.

Pie, baby.

Make your man a homemade pie. He will feel so loved. Let him see you with flour on your face and apron. Let him see that you have used a rolling pin. Serve it to him with vanilla ice cream. You will have earned yourself a pair of shoes. Trust me.

Mama's little helper.

Don't be afraid. (I'm not talking to you, Emily.) I consider myself an Amelia Bedelia: Can't quite get most of this home-making stuff down. But put "Make Pie" on my to do list, and you'll be glad I'm around. If I can, you can.

And now, my two favorite pie recipes:

Georgia Peach Pie
This recipe was given to me by my friend Trista. She has always been a natural in the kitchen (we're talking making family meals at age 14). She took pity on my plight of being kitchen-stupid, and taught me to make this pie while we were in high school.

10 inch double crust (I use the crust recipe at my cousin Emily's recipe blog)
(also, she has many delicious-looking, fancier-than-mine pie recipes. I'm scared to try them, in spite of the claim I just made about being able to make pies.)

Filling:
1 can (29 0z) yellow cling peaches in heavy syrup
3 tablespoons reserve peach syrup
3 tablespoons cornstarch
1 cup sugar, divided
3 eggs
1/3 cup buttermilk (1 capful of lemon juice or vinegar and then fill the rest with milk until it equals 1/3 cup. Mix and let sit for about 10 minutes).
1/2 cup melted butter
1 tsp vanilla

Glaze
2 tablespoons melted butter
Sugar

1. Make crust, put one crust into the bottom of the pie plate but do not bake. Preheat: 400.

2. Filling: drain peaches, reserving 3 tablespoons syrup. Set aside. Cut peaches into small pieces. Place in large bowl. Combine cornstarch and 2 to 3 tablespoons sugar. Add 3 tablespoons reserved peach syrup. Add remaining sugar, eggs and buttermilk. Mix well. Stir in 1/2 cup melted butter and vanilla. Pour over peaches. Stir until peaches are coated. Pour filling into unbaked pie crust. Moisten pastry edge with water.

3. Cover pie with top crust. Cut slits or designs into top crust to allow steam to escape.

4. For glaze, brush with 2 tablespoons melted butter. Sprinkle with sugar. Bake at 400 for 45 minutes or until filling in center is bubbly and crust is golden brown. Cool to room temperature before serving. Refrigerate leftovers.

Grandma Ople's Apple Pie

I got this one from Allrecipes. I love that site. If apple pie doesn’t appeal to you because of the gelatinous cinnamon glaze, this recipe is worth a shot. A unique sauce bakes with the apples and carmelizes the crust…trust me, it’s good. I read a review that suggested adding a couple of tsp.s cinnamon to the apples, not the sauce, and I thought that was good, too.

1 recipe pastry for a 9 inch double crust pie (again, visit Emily)

1/2 cup unsalted butter

3 tablespoons all-purpose flour

1/2 cup white sugar

1/2 cup packed brown sugar

1/4 cup water

8 Granny Smith apples - peeled, cored and sliced

1. Melt butter in a sauce pan. Stir in flour to form a paste. Add white sugar, brown sugar and water; bring to a boil. Reduce temperature, and simmer 5 minutes.

2. Meanwhile, place the bottom crust in your pan. Fill with apples, mounded slightly. Cover with a lattice work of crust. Gently pour the sugar and butter liquid over the crust. Pour slowly so that it does not run off.

Bake 15 minutes at 425 degrees F. Reduce the temp to 350 and continue baking for 35 to 45 minutes.

Make one for your husband. Then go out an buy yourself a new pair of shoes and see if he complains. I dare you.

Shoe Fetish

The blessed boots that loved me throughout the cold, cold winter. They fold down at the top over jeans and look oh-so-cool. By the way, if you've been living somewhere with a real winter, I really hope you wear boots. I never wore boots in Utah. And I hated winter because my feet were always cold and my pant-legs were always soaking and freezing the rest of me. Boots. Boots. Boots.

Most females that I know love shoes.

It starts out young, often the first object of obsession (it sure was/is with Cadence). I, myself, have a love for footwear, although any other shoe-loving woman would probably have a hard time guessing it, with my lack of footwear-awesomeness-abundance. In spite of my average-sized mound of shoes, I remember when I first moved in to Roman Gardens Apts. in Provo some guy saw me moving my stuff in by myself and just started helping me out of good will. He laughed out loud when he took my armful of stuff and realized it was a laundry basket full of shoes.

My shoe closet, the gold-tones department. Okay, it's Mariah Carey's. But do you look at it and think, "man, too many"? I don't, I just think, "someday..." (and then the rest of that song pops into my mind..."oooh, someday, the one you gave away will be the only one you're looking for..." Mariah, you were so good back then.)

And Spencer thinks that I am a shoe glutton, by the way. My shoes fit on a couple of shelves. I don't even get credit from him for not acting on my love of shoes as often as I want (every day). In fact, over the years and over the many moves we've had, I've parted with many a pair that I've loved in days passed.

Why do we love shoes so much? They come in so many colors, shapes, sizes. A good pair of shoes can alter an outfit in any direction you choose (depending on the pair you choose). A good pair of shoes can make my legs look long and thin (which they are not), can make my style look impeccable (also not), and can make me look in control (is this an illusion?).

Jessica Simpson knows how I like it. Drool.... (I know they are old, but I still love them. And still don't own them.)

Shoes are the life-blood of an outfit, and we all know an outfit is an opportunity to paint ourselves. You know, use our own selves as a palette for our artistic expression.
At the Field Museum of Natural History here in Chicago there is an exhibit that inspires and entrances me:

(The caption above says, "women's shoes for bound feet, China, early 20th century)

This tasty number is a real test of your love for footwear. Do I love shoes enough to try walking in these? Maybe...

These are the shoes that saved my back and feet during my second pregnancy (thanks to Spencer for painting my toenails just before my delivery):

Due to the lifesaving comfort of these flips I suddenly found that they matched everything. They were worn everyday from the day I bought them until a few days after baby.

And these are the shoes that Spencer bought for me after we had a really really big fight (it was an emotional blow-out, not really about anything real) one night.

Hot, right? Everytime I wear them I remember how much that gesture meant to me. By way of mention, I made him my special homemade Georgia Peach Pie, which he loves. It's the equivalent of hot shoes, for him. And yes, Mer and Elisabeth, it did have a heart in the middle.

Cadence, as I mentioned before, loves shoes, too. She delights in picking out her own shoes each day. She loves to pick out MY shoes, too. Until recently, if we were ever in a home where there was a pile of shoes by the door, she would HAVE to try on each pair, and then she would walk around wearing the best pair. These are a pair of wedges that she picked out herself and just had to have. I loved them and was not about to say no to them. Besides, I have a pair almost exactly like them.


So, what is your shoe collection like? Is it a mound, a mountain, a mountain chain? We all deserve to have a pair to complement any outfit. At least I hope to deserve that, someday. And is it bad if I encourage a healthy shoe fetish in my daughters? I mean, it's a worthy obsession, if you ask me. :)

Quotable Cadence

Yesterday we had some friends of Spencer's over for dinner. Cadence was bouncing off the walls with excitement over somebody to show off to, and Noriko asked, "Cadence, why are you so happy?"
Cadence replied enthusiastically, even emphatically, "I'm happy because Jesus loves me!"

Sigh, what good parents we are.

Okay, we don't deserve the credit. I don't know where this came from. Spencer and I (and all who were present, actually) laughed so hard because this was not something that we taught her. At least not in the way that she could spout it off so perfectly. I mean, I have taught her that Jesus loves her. I guess I need to thank her nursery teachers?

Later while she was spinning around the living room "entertaining" our guests, Spencer asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up. He expected her usual answer "A Single Lady" (if you don't remember/didn't see/just want to see again the video to explain this, click here.)

Her answer? "A FUNCH COOKER!" By which she meant a fun cooker. If you follow 30 Rock you'll get it. Thanks, uncle Trevor. The other day she blurted out for no reason, "Here comes the fun cooker!" Luckily, no action followed.
Oh, and this is how I found Trevor one morning. He had no idea that I took this picture. Nice funcooker.

On Potty-training and Spiritual Matters

Cadence is finally potty-trained. Things aren't perfect, but I know she's completely on the bandwagon for using the toilet. She was for it and then against it, especially numero two, but I told her that Belle (princess) likes to use the potty because she thinks it's fun. Since then, she's been loving it. Also, she's a pretty spiritual gal. Here are a few snippets of conversations we've had lately (warning: naturally, some potty talk follows):

In the bathroom:
C: Mom, what happens if I go pee pee on the floor?
M: It makes a mess and you don't get to pick a prize for going in the potty all day.
C: Mom, Belle (the princess) doesn't like to go potty on the floor. She likes going in the potty. She thinks it's fun!!
M: Yep.
C: Mom, what color is Belle's poo poo?
M: What do you think?
C: Pink. I think it's pink poo poo.
M: Yeah, probably. And sparkly, too.
C: No, no sparkles.

Man, princesses are so cool.

Later, while reading a little board book called "My Tiny Book of Prayer":

(Looking at a page depicting a Heavenly hand holding a child's hand)
C: Mom, is that Heavenly Father's Hand?
M: Yep.
C: And is that my hand?
M: Mmmmhmmmm.
C: Oh! That's so nice of Heavenly Father to hold my hand!! Is He cold?
M: No, He's very warm.
C: Is His hand cold?
M: No, it's very warm.
C: Oh, that's so nice.
The next page depicts a girl folding hands and staring into the distance.
C: Mom, what is she looking at?
M: Heaven, I guess.
C: Oh, Heaven is wonderful. Do we live in Heaven?
M: No, we live in Chicago. We will live in Heaven someday.
C: Oh. Mom, do you have a 'No Way'? (This is completely off the topic and a "no way" refers to a body part that I do not have. I'm not going to go into details as to how it came to be called in such a way.)
M: We don't talk about those things unless we're in the bathroom. It's not nice to talk about.
C: Oh, it's rude.
M: Yes.
C: Mom, say, "It's rude".
M: It's rude.
C: Rude is not nice. It's not nice it's rude it's not nice it's rude rude rude I like the word rude....trails off about the topic of rude.

My day is full of these funny little conversations. Yesterday she walked up to Trevor and said, "Soon I'll become a BOY!" and at lunch a couple of days ago she looked out the window longingly and said, "Mom, I'm dying now." She has no idea what that means.

There is just nothing like being able to see so clearly into the mind of a two-year-old.

The Many Names and Faces of Campbell Clive

Partially in response to Matt and Mimi's post about how many nicknames Matt has for Joshua, and partially because I've been meaning to post about how adorable and funny my little Camster is.

1. Cam
2. Cammi
3. Camby (Cadence came up with this one and uses it frequently)
4. Cam Cam (as in "Bam Bam" from Flinstones or "Pam Pam" from Office)
5. Cambo
6. Camboni
7. Campblo (I actually think this is what Cadence thought was her real name at first)
8. The Great Campbino
9. Porkchop (sorta messes up my flow here, but one of Spencer's top choices) var.: Poikchop (Cadence's version)
10. Campbell-oni
11. Cambone
12. Cam 'n Cheese (this debatably counts as two because Trevor* points out that it can refer to either "ham and cheese" or "Mac and cheese" with the mac backwords).Every once in a while I make the mistake of leaving one of the kids alone with Uncle Trevor. This time he happened to be equipped with some eye-liner. Whoops.

13. Campbellina (like "Thumbelina", a movie we watch often)
14. Camtastic
15. Campbell Ca-Bampbell
16. Campbell-bo-bampbell
17. Campbulence
18. Camcorder
19. Cammers
20. Bean-Machine (apparently this is from the root-word Campbino, "and she is shaped like a bean" Trevor adds)

The Great Campbino is a funnier baby than your average cutie-patootie. Not only is her head large and bald, her thighs laughably rolly-polly, and her face often serious and soul-searching. She has a sense of humor, too. It just took a while to develop and what it developed into was something....special.

Ye olde Bean Machine laughed for the first time at six months of age. From three to six months I humiliated myself in as many ways as I could think of to try to get this girl to laugh. She laughed once and then I spend two more months of humiliation. And then she laughed again at 8 months. Once.

Since the most recent recognizable laugh she's been doing this thing. Well, we finally realized she IS laughing. She opens up and lets out a loud throat-cough kind of a sound. I know I need to just record it and put it up here. I know she can laugh for real, but she prefers this throaty sound for now. It sounds more like she is choking. It's so funny.

Also, if she is pinned down, for instance, in a high chair or the changing table, and she sees Cadence, she has what I call a "happy seizure". Her body spasms and her head starts shaking from side to side really fast and she smiles really big. It always makes me worried and makes me laugh at the same time. It's pretty intense.

And then, of course, let's not underestimate how adorable her nakey little body is. If I have to keep getting up every night to feed her to maintain her squishable bod, I'll do it.

And by way of update/babybooking, Cammi J has started crawling right at about 8 months and she is all over the place now (almost 9 months). She pulls herself up on everything and she can stand on her own for a few seconds. Today at the tot lot she crawled through the play tunnel (like a tent tunnel) with absolutely no fear. I was proud. She says, "bah bah bah" and "doh doh doh" all day long. She is very attentive and will entertain herself forever as long as I am sitting right there with her. If I expect her to entertain herself while I change Cadence's clothes or make lunch....forget it. She's so funny and so much her own little person.

*For those of you who don't know, Trevor is Spencer's brother who has been living with us for the past couple of months, and who will live with us until June, when we are moving to Texas for an internship. Trevor is in the process of redirecting his life (was about to go to Grad school to study Psych and decided that wasn't what he wanted), and so for that time we get to have him around. He is oh-so-helpful and the kids love him. I call him my "Manny".

26 going on 30.

It is possible that this is partially in response to my sister's post about still looking like a teenager even though she is going on 30 this year. But mostly it's in response to looking into the mirror a few minutes ago (not my choice-forced because I had to wash my hands).

Merica and I. I'm workin' the anti-aging mask and Merica's is an "aging mask". You wish, Mer. (Okay, it's not really us. The hair should have really given it away. and the bare shoulders).

I've always had a love/hate relationship with my skin. On the one hand, it seems blotchy, blushes and sunburns easily (but not evenly), has a handful of moles and freckles, and is picky about moisturizers. On the other, it is relatively hair-less, soft and smooth, looks good with red hair, and is probably my most complimented upon feature (other than my hair, but we don't need to talk about why that doesn't count, right?)

You can't really see how bad my skin has gotten here, but you can see my cute new hair cut that my cousin Kim did. She's awesome and charges $25! And why can't I ever just not look awkward in a picture? That's a topic for another narcissistic post.

Ah, here's one that will make you see things my way. Just not pleasant. And again, just can't take a non-awkward picture. Still.

So here's the deal. Between being on the "wrong side of 25", being in the harsh Chicago environment, and maybe my recently intensified sweet tooth, and lack of sleep (remember my post about Campbell's sleep?) my skin has become quite a problem. When winter hit my friend gave me some all natural facial soap that is extremely mild, and I bought Cetaphil to moisturize since my usual stuff wasn't cutting it for the winter skin. My face burns when I moisturize, my pores are huge, I have zits (not pregnant, by the way), and my wrinkles seem exaggerated.

Okay, I'm not just fishing for some validation. I'm fishing for some product or treatment recommendations. Any products that you have found that really help your skin? I want to look like I'm 16, like Merica. :) No, actually I just want to not hate looking at my own face.