.... A Very Good Place to Start

I missed Lou's class in January because we were in DISNEYWORLD!  YESSSSS!  When I came home and found out our assignment was to write our birth story, I thought, "How can I write my birth story when I don't even know it?!!!"  Thankfully, though my parents currently reside in South Africa, they were home for a conference so I was able to ask them in person about my birth.  I've decided I will write each of my six's birth stories this year.  Everyone ought to know how they got here, right?

My Birth Story
     Heather and Tad were soundly sleeping as the tiny sliver of the new moon shone down on Elizabeth Street.  Mom, over nine months pregnant, was desperate and more than ready to get labor going.  You’d have to be desperate to drink a glass of orange juice with 2 teaspoons of cod liver oil added—and that’s just what she did; however, nothing seemed to be happening.  Mom and Dad climbed into bed hopeful that tomorrow could bring the birth of their third baby. 
     Suddenly, Mom sat up with a jolt.  “Jeff!  This is it.  This baby is coming!”  She said.  Like a good husband, Dad got up and started tidying the house and packing a bag for Mom while she called her friend, Connie Zwick (Allen), who lived two blocks away on Douglas Street.  Within five minutes, Connie arrived and Mom was already bent over in pain.  “Hurry, Jeff!  We’ve got to go NOW.”
   Dad dropped Mom off on the steps of Holy Cross Hospital where the staff insisted she ride to the room in a wheelchair.  It was obvious the nurses didn’t realize the baby was ready to come.  By the time Mom was on the table, Dad had joined her in the delivery room.  After a few short pushes, I was born. 

And yes, happy birthday to me!  I'm a whopping 43!  And I was able to stay home AND enjoy lovely weather.  I'd say that about 40/43 birthdays have been accompanied by a snowstorm.  I'm considering the blue sky, sunshine, and 62' as a personal gift from Heavenly Father this year.
Happy Tuesday!

Finger-lickin BBQ Chicken

It's one of those "shoot myself in the foot" kind of days-- too much going on, and figuring out how to make it happen is giving me a headache.  The reality is that even though I have too many places to go, my family needs to be fed.  And I'm not in the mood to fork out cash for fast food fries. Luckily, I have an easy recipe for days like this.  It's inexpensive and fast and I can put it in the crock pot in the morning and forget about dinner (except that I usually throw a few foil-wrapped potatoes into the oven mid-day).
Gather the following:

1 cup bbq sauce (your choice)

1/3 cup apricot jam/preserves

2 teaspoons mustard

15 drumsticks

 

 

I always begin by removing the skins from the drumsticks.  It's so easy to do, I figure it takes some of the fat out of the recipe, so it's worth it. Stir the sauce together and pour over the drumsticks in a crockpot.  Cook on low for 8 hours or high for 4 hours.  After removing the drumsticks to serve, you can boil the remaining sauce in a small saucepan if you'd like to use it for dipping.  Here's what it looks like when it's done cooking:



 

Easy and family friendly, and if you want, you can sneak a few more drumsticks in and double the sauce.  If you HAVE to make something on a busy day, make something that doesn't make you want to shoot yourself in the foot.
xo

PS: I wrote this last week and forgot to post it.  Happy Sabbath!

Three

Most writing teachers encourage their students to have a place to keep a running list of ideas, whether on a phone, in a notebook, or on the backs of envelopes on the kitchen counter.  One day last summer I remember being in a grumpy mood, but unfortunately I had promised to take Jeffrey and a friend to the pool.  I picked up my notebook on the way out the door and after lathering up the boys with sunblock, sat down on a lounge chair and examined my list.  Most of my ideas were for little narratives from events, but nothing struck my fancy.  I started thinking about things most people don't know about me such as my favorite color, my favorite foods, and my favorite number.  Doesn't everyone have a favorite number at some point in life?  Some kids like #1 because they want to be the best at everything.  Others like the #13 because they want to defy the odds and superstition.  Many choose a favorite number because it was on their lucky jersey.  I chose my favorite number when I was so young, I didn't even know why.  Here's my favorite:

I started brainstorming about why in the world I liked this number so much, and as I did, I miraculously started cheering up.  I remembered spending alone time with my Gram as a little girl and feeling incredibly special because we were both the third-born in our families.  When I showed Gram things I liked, she would lean close to my ear and whisper, "I like it too!  It's because we are both threes!"  I remembered how I felt when I realized my parents were also the third-born.  The more I thought about the number three and why I liked it, the more my spirits lifted, and while the boys splashed in the pool, a poem was born. 


Three.

I am a 3.

Mom was a 3.
Dad was a 3.
Gram was a 3.
Three is the perfect number.
It is mother, father, child.
Three is ikebana.
It is the sun, moon, and stars.
It is the best of the seasons—
         the winners of a race.
It is the beginning , middle, and end.
3 is naptime,
and the date that earns a kiss,
a trilogy, a three-peat, and a triple-threat.
It is on your mark, get set, go!
and how many tries it takes to learn something new.
Three is my number.
I am a 3.


Do you have a favorite number?  Do you know WHY it's your favorite number?  Think about it; write about it.  It's all part of the puzzle called YOU.