Sunday Sweets

I'm trying to get into the habit of posting certain things on certain days in an effort to keep my blog updated regularly. I have a bad habit of letting it go for days, or weeks even, without posting anything. Bad blogger! I haven't come up with cute titles/topics for each day of the week because . . . well . . . that might be too much of a stretch for me. I have 'Dear So and So' that I borrowed from another blog I read regularly, but I wanted to do something on Sunday. I don't know why exactly, but here it is.

'Sunday Sweets will be a spiritual thought and a recipe. I'm calling it this because the spiritual thought helps to sweeten up my day(and maybe yours too) and the recipes will be something tried and true by my family. You know, those recipes that everyone in the family likes and doesn't complain about? Ok, almost everyone. On those rare nights I'm thinking, WOOHOO! NO ONE'S WHINING ABOUT WHAT I COOKED!!! See? That's pretty sweet! Doesn't happen often though.

So, to kick off my first Sunday Sweets, I'm sharing a spiritual thought from LDS Nuggets. Maybe some of you other LDSers get these in your inbox. I love them! The message that comes is usually what I need to hear at just the right time. 

This one is titled "Teach the Truth" by Elder Richard G. Scott. It's from the April 2010 General Conference.

"The vital importance of teaching truth in the home is fundamental. The Church is important, but it is in the home where parents provide the required understanding and direction for children. It is truly said that the most important callings in time and eternity are those of father and mother. In time we will be released from all other assignments we receive but not from that of father and mother."

This really hit home with me when I read it yesterday. I often 'let' myself get overwhelmed by my calling as a mom and I neglect to remember it's the most important assignment I will ever have.

And now for the other sweet-----Blackberry Cobbler. Mmmm, delicioso! Sorry. Too much Dora. 

Alright, here it goes. It's super easy, but if you must have step by step directions with pictures, go here. This gal so totally rocks, dude! Too much Nemo, I know.

You will need:

1 stick butter

1 1/4 cup sugar

1 cup self-rising flour

1 cup milk

2 cups blackberries (fresh or frozen)

Melt butter in a microwavable dish. Pour 1 cup of sugar and flour into a mixing bowl, whisking in milk. Mix well. Then, pour in melted butter and whisk it all together really well. Butter a baking dish. Of course rinse and pat dry your blackberries if you're using fresh ones. 

Pour the batter into the buttered baking dish. Sprinkle blackberries over the top of the batter, distributing evenly. Sprinkle the remaining 1/4 cup sugar over the top. 

Bake in the oven at 350 degrees for 1 hour, or until golden and bubbly. If you want, you can sprinkle an additional teaspoon of sugar over the cobbler 10 minutes before it's done. Serve with vanilla ice cream if you like. I like. I like a lot. What's cobbler without ice cream, right?

And when it's finished, you have . . . . . . 

 THIS!!!!

But not for long. Enjoy!

Dear So and So

I got this idea from another blog. I thought it was a funny way to relieve some stress by saying here what I didn't get to say at the time. Goodness knows it happens to me all the time.

Dear Trouble-Making Mother of the Trouble-Making child at the ball field (yeah, you know who you are),
Thank you so much for humiliating me in front of a small crowd of other parents. You may not be 'the kind of person who allows other people to put their hands on your child', but you're obviously the kind of person who doesn't discipline your child and also doesn't teach him any manners. You seem to be under the impression that my dh taking your child to sit with his father was an abusive act, but it was not abusive for you and your cronies to speak to me the way you did. What a great example you are to your children. No wonder they're so disrespectful to others.

Sincerely,
The mom who has to put up with you four nights a week during baseball season


Dear Children Who Mowed My Lawn(you also know who you are),
I really appreciate your joint effort to mow the lawn last weekend. It looks great! However, if you're gonna mow the lawn, please mow all of it and not just the part that wasn't cut the week before. It's now growing at different levels in the back yard and looks like only half the yard has been mowed(which is true).

Love,
Your trying-not-to-nag Mom

Dear Loving, Wonderful Hubby,
Please spray. This week. Before the weekend when you'll be working and won't have time to do it. You know what I'm talking about.

Lovingly,
Your Trying To Be Patient Wife


Ok, folks. Your turn! Do you have any Dear So and So's you need to get off your chest?

Oh, and the bean thing . . . .

is for the birds.

It back-fired in a big way. We might try again in a couple of weeks.

I hate Mother's Day. There. I said it. Before everyone gets their skirts in twist let me explain.

To me, it's another holiday that has all these expectations surrounding it and they're never met, at least not for me.

I don't feel like I deserve a Mother's Day.

I don't feel like I deserve all the heart-felt poems or the nice things that are said about mother's on this day.

Because they wouldn't be heart-felt coming from my family.

And here's where it's going to get really ugly and controversial . . . most days, my children make me hate being a mother.

What does that say about me as a person? As a mother? As an LDS mother?

My three youngest children spent the night with their grandparents last night. My mom brought them home this morning in time for us to get ready for church. They walked in with flowers that my mom helped them pick from her yard. The flowers were very pretty, but I don't deserve them. They make me feel terrible.

My oldest son was supposed to give a talk today in sacrament meeting about what a wonderful mother I am, but he didn't prepare anything and wouldn't get dressed to go to church.

I left him at home, determined to try to make it through church without help from my husband because he's at work, and without help from anyone else because my usual helper wasn't there today. We lasted all of 25 minutes. Not our record, but close.

Why can't I make it through church with my kids by myself? Single moms have to do it. Why can't I? Why don't I enjoy my children? Why can't I get them to listen better? Get along with each other? Help each other? Help me around the house? Why can't I make it through the day without having to yell at someone to get them to do anything?

I feel like I'm drowning.

Beans, beans, good for your heart . . .

. . . the more you eat them, the more you . . . oh, wait. That's not where this is headed.

How about the more chores you do, the more beans you earn? Not following me?

Let me explain.

My bff, Toni, and I often vent our woes to each other over how to get our children to pick up after themselves and help out more around the house without hearing all the whining, complaining, and gnashing of teeth and also without having to stand over them with a stick to keep them on track. Are you following me now? *Just kidding about the stick.

Rewind back to earlier this afternoon. I was having an afternoon chit chat about picking blackberries with said bff and she happened to mention to me her bean chore system. Her wonderful hubby came up with this ingenious idea and was more than happy to email it to me.

It goes something like this: Each child has a jar with 100 beans to start. Mom and Dad have the "bank" jar. One bean = 1 penny. There is a list of jobs that can be done to earn beans. If the job is not done correctly then the child owes the bank beans. There is also a "general store" list with privileges they can use their beans for (Wii time, computer time, TV time) and a list of things they may lose beans for (sassing/being disrespectful to parents, hitting siblings, etc.) The catch is they can't spend the initial 100 beans for privileges. They must earn beans before they can use for privileges. At the end of the week they have the option to cash in any beans over the initial 100 beans if they choose to or they can keep saving. Each child also has a ledger to keep track of his beans. The whole idea is they choose what chores they want to do without mom or dad nagging.

Ingenious, right?

I'm sure there are probably other parents out there somewhere that have done something similar to this, but I love this idea because a) I didn't have to wrack my tired brain for an idea, b) it didn't cost me anything and, c) it's working like a charm. I was prepared for it to take a few days.

So far, so good. I hope I don't jinx it.

Aren't they beautious? A few mason jars, scrapbooking stickers, some beans and you're good to go. Well, technically, these are chickpeas, but they were kinda old and I didn't want to use my good kidney beans.

I'll let you know how it's going in a week or two.

Broken-hearted

 I broke my daughter's heart this morning.

She's at the age where she wants to do whatever mommy is doing. She tries to help wash dishes, load the washing machine, etc. She sees me putting on make-up so she has to put on makeup. Not a morning goes by that she doesn't follow me into the bathroom to put on her 'wipgwoss', just like mom. Sometimes she has me put on a tiny bit of eye shadow and mascara, too. She saw me shaving my legs a couple of mornings ago and had lots of questions. *mental note: make sure to keep the razor far out of reach.

This morning . . . she saw me getting dressed for church. Nothing new or different. She's usually in my room when I'm getting ready, but for some reason she took special interest in my bra. She asked me what it was and said she wanted one too. I told her she wasn't old enough for one yet.

She completely fell apart. I mean REALLY fell apart. I mean on the floor, crying like her favorite pet had died, falling-apart.

Ah, the poor girl. She doesn't realize that once she has to wear a bra all the time, it's not so fun. And if she's blessed like I am it can even be painful and uncomfortable. And she'll wish they were smaller.

Maybe, if she's lucky, she'll be blessed to be like the women on her father's side of the family. But then, of course, she'll wish they were bigger.

It's a no win situation.