At last...

Picture it...Eagle River, Alaska. Winter 2009. A beautiful young peasant girl walks down the aisle....

Ok, ok, no more nods to Sophia Patrillo or the Golden girls.

I don't sing like Etta James (more like Bartles and James), but, if you could, please imagine that song playing in the background. It sets the mood of sorts for this post.

I know all brides think their wedding was amazing, and I'm no different.

It was a-m-a-z-i-n-g.

Our church had dim lighting and candles. And fall decorations. And bridesmaids in beautiful black dresses. And groomsmen in dapper black suits. And guests in lots of pretty party clothes. And P. And me. P had hemmed up pants. We bought a new shirt/tie combo for Boy Wonder and subsequently lost the NEW TIE moments before the ceremony. (I'm awesome like that.) Boo had a nice new shirt and some brown pants. (He looked great!) And I had a fancy hairdo AND a bouquet. (That I made a few hours before the ceremony with some roses and some ribbon. Martha Stewart can kick rocks...I didn't even need You Tube.)

The day was a blur. I had to coach Boy Wonder's basketball game at noon. P had a huge math exam at 10...so we crammed a day's worth of errands and prep into a couple hours. (Yes, I panicked and went crazy a few hours before...but I was chained to a stylist chair for two hours while the girl curling ironed my hair into oblivion, so I couldn't really unleash the true Bridezilla, scales and all. The hair was a really pretty oblivion, btw.)

Anyhoo...I just remember 7 p.m. arrived and there Boy Wonder and I were. Standing at the door of the church. And all of our friends stood and looked straight at us and I stared at the floor the entire walk. :) Stage fright, anyone?

I'll admit it. I was incredibly nervous and overwhelmed, but despite risking sounding like an absolute cheeseball, I looked to P when I got really antsy and he calmed me down. Talk about a rock...I'd look at him and the world sort of just disappeared and narrowed in on the two of us and Fr. Greg. (He did an amazing job and delivered a beautiful sermon that I can't really remember all that well now. But I do remember him saying that this is one of those moments that defines your life as "before" and "after." So true, so true.) And when it was just the three of us, I could focus. And I could say my lines without sounding robotic or like Optimus Prime. ("Autobots...let's transform...and ROLLOUT!")

Before we knew it, the rings were blessed and we were married. Amazing how time crawls like molasses in the church library before the ceremony and how it absolutely FLEW to the "Hey, you're married now" part. We had a few desserts with everyone and went home to tuck our boys into bed, then we were off to the hotel and after party.

Our first dance (to the best of my recollection) was to Sean Kingston's "Fire Burning." Hey, don't judge. Our first date soundtrack will forever be Soldier Boy's "You" song. We're not big on sentimentality around the Applegate house.

So we made it to the fairytale beginning and now it's back to reality. Like the electricity disconnect notice I have staring at me on the counter. (Why you gotta bust balls, Matanuska Electric Association?)

Thanks to every single one of our friends and families for the well wishes and the support. Lots of love to everyone!

Come And Play, Everything's A-OK...

If you've used google in the past 72 hours, it's likely you've seen cookie monster or big bird fitting their faces through the great big letter O in celebration of 40 years. 40 YEARS!

It's tough to believe they've been around that long, and that some of the original cast is STILL on. (I'm talking about you, Maria.) My first memories of television have Sesame Street in them, and it's amazing that despite the necessary re-vamps to keep time with SpongeBob and Dora, it's still got that same "feel" to it.

So, in honor of the big 4-0, here's my Sesame Street Top 5 of all time list. (Top 5 greatest memories, I suppose...)

5. Ernie and his Rubber Ducky Song.

I love Ernie and his little fella who is "cute, and yellow, and chuuuuuuubby."



4. Cookie Monster tells us what starts with C.

C is for Cookie, that's good enough for me....(me too, cookie monster!)

"OOH! Cookie, Cookie, Cookie starts with C..." Indeed.



3. Bert and the Pigeon Dance

Live from Peoria...I mean, what was better when we were 5?? (Full disclosure: I sort of look like that when I dance these days. I blame Bert.)



2. Grover the Waiter

It was a toss up between this big hamburger or the fly in the soup. I love, love, love GROVER. I really do. You'll see how much in a second... (P.S. Customer Man, you should have taken the LITTLE hamburger. Just sayin'.)



1. Super Grover

OH. MY. GOODNESS. I love super grover. Like, love him so much I want to bottle him up and carry him around in my purse LOVE him. Especially when he helps "Little Freddy Smith" escape the playground, so he won't be late for dinner and his mother won't be mad at him. Super grover to the rescue.



Happy Birthday, Sesame Street!

The Happy Ending Countdown: 5 Days...

Holy shite, Batman. Five days to go...

I think I have officially driven my friends (the bridesmaids) crazy with my lack of planning. I've offered a spreadsheet and not delivered yet (working on it...), we have a groom with unhemmed pants, a bride with an unironed gown, I've got a "Not Sure" status on the wedding cake (Hooray, you lousy baker woman), I have no shoes, and the baby has no fancy duds to match his dad or his brother. Oh, and we lost Boy Wonder's clip-on tie. And we still don't know who is going to take photos for us on Saturday. Dammit.

But...honestly...I don't think that's too bad. I mean, in the end, a couple wrinkles and a baby wearing his footie pajamas to watch his folks get married isn't the END of the world, is it?

Truth be told, I'm not stressed...I'm nervous. In a butterflies sort of way. In a "oh my gosh, this is real" sort of way. From the "we're getting married in a couple months" to the "happily ever after happens at the end of the week" sort of nervous. Remember how nervous I'd get days before a fight (or if you're old school, how sick I'd get the day of a swim meet)? How I'd have that sour stomach for days and days...yeah...that's about right. It's an adrenaline rush, methinks, but it's still crazy.

P is cool as a cucumber, as usual. He looks at me like I'm a macadamia (nuts, hehe) when I tell him I'm worried all the details won't magically fall into place (and they won't...they need a spreadsheet to magically fall into place.)...to him, the stress robs the day of the fun and the magic and he's so right. The point of Saturday is not to make sure the candles match the napkins and the pumpkin pie coordinates with the autumn leaves decor...it's the fact that we're GETTING MARRIED and all of our friends and family that can make it want to be a part. Now that's just magical to me...

But he still needs to get the pants hemmed and we need to find Boo a monkey suit to match Boy Wonder's missing tie. Oh, and in case you were worried, I made a hair appointment to let someone else do it, realizing that a half-assed ponytail (like the one I rock to the office EVERY DAY) won't cut it. I nearly choked when she told me $50...there better be some gold or semi-precious gems tucked in there when she's done....

Note to self

I've been doing it again lately. Keeping myself up at night with a million thoughts a minute. Replays of failures and worries running over and over on a continous loop to the point where it's damn near impossible to feel like things are actually doing just fine. I had an intense internal dialogue going for a while this morning on the way to work, and it got to be pretty funny. I was pretty hard on myself, truth be told. It went something like this:

Dear Self,

Grow up. No, seriously. Get over it already. We all have bills that are a month behind. We all hate our jobs on the ride in to work each morning. We all wish we had more money for more cappucinos or the Coach purse in the window. But move on. The constant whine in this head of yours is like a nagging buzz that never, ever ends.

Here's a hint: let go of the maniacal need to "organize" every other minute. In 10 years, your boys will remember the times you plunked down on the carpet and chewed on their legs or taught them checkers. They won't remember how awesomely organized the DVD cabinet was or how there was never any clutter on the kitchen counters. Seriously. Let it go now and then.

You should buck up. When did you get so wimpy and insecure? If someone is rude or makes you feel small, tell them to kick rocks. To their face, even. Don't carry the insult around for days, stewing on it. It's annoying. This hesitance and fear habit you've picked up the past few years is really depressing and it makes it hard to like you sometimes.

Quit worrying about how others see you. Nine times out of ten, the things they're thinking of have ABSOLUTELY nothing to do with you. And when it is about you, it's their problem, not yours. Let them be insecure and petty.

Would it kill you to pluck an eyebrow or put on clothes that have been ironed once in a while? Since when does having two kids make it OK to look like a cave dweller?

Remember how all the hair on one side of your head fell out after brain surgery? Remember the crying and the fits you threw because you had giant bald spots that you couldn't hide? I do. You didn't shut up about how you couldn't wait to feel normal again and like yourself in the mirror. And now what?

Buy a scarf or something, woman. You're starting to scare the children. What's next? Sweat pants and rollers at the store? Take a little pride in yourself now and then, and you'll go far.

Call your mother. Call your dad. Call your grandmother. Call P's family. Just call. Send them Boy Wonder's kindergarten art. Send them cheesy Alaskan postcards with computer-drawn igloos and whale tales superimposed on water scenes. Time is precious and it's rushing by like water in a stream. You should know this by now. Feel blessed that there are people out there who want to hear from you and who miss you.

If you want to write, write. If you want to hang upside down off a building, hang upside down off a building. It gets old listening to the "I wish I could..." and "Wouldn't it be fun..." repeatedly. Do it. Or don't. Just shut up about it already.

And turn the TV off a little more. Boy Wonder has seen every single SpongeBob and Phineas and Ferb twice over. Enough already. Make him use the ol' imagination a little more, and before long, he won't notice the big annoying electronic box isn't spewing a million commercials an hour at him. He might sleep better, too.

Make it happen. Anything happen, it doesn't matter--you used to be really good at that. Now you hem and haw and think about possible consequences and whether it'd be too inconvenient or time consuming. You're driving me crazy. Just make it happen.

Crowded Kitchen: Gingerbread Pancakes from Omlettery West

I was thinking a lot about my mom today. Partly because of wedding stuff she's totally being awesome about...but mostly because I was being a chicken about calling in on the status of my manuscript and TOTALLY asked her to pretend to be me and bug the editorial assistant for me. She was so game for it, too...

My mom was in the food section of the newspaper once. It was the Austin American Statesman (God Bless America, that is a GREAT newspaper), and she wrote in to the food writer requesting a top secret recipe from our favorite breakfast joint.

If there was ever a poll on which city has the best food, Austin would win my vote hands down, and I didn't even live in that city very long. I actually get homesick for Texas when I think of Austin food, and I grew up (for the most part) in El Paso.

Anyhoo...

The woman responded to my mother in the Sunday edition (it was sometime in the 80s...back when newsrooms were staffed with real people who wrote real columns and loved their jobs) and gave her the coveted Gingerbread Pancake recipe. As recent as a few years back, I remember seeing that yellowed old clipping in the midst of my mom's recipe collection (no, she's not the most organized about that stuff...ahem...Mom...)

(That photo to the left is said Burnett Road Omlettery.)
In my pumpkin pancake post a couple weeks ago, she chimed in about those gingerbread pancakes and how she missed that recipe. But you know what? Google is rad. Way rad. And I found the version of the recipe from Omlettery West (which claims to be different from the one on Burnett Road, where we ate, but big deal. Someday we'll know the difference and we probably won't even care!)

So in honor of her, here is:

Debra's Gingerbread Pancakes (Totally from the Omlettery, though, ok?)

Gingerbread Pancakes
Ingredients:
3 eggs
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup buttermilk
1/2 cup water
1/4 cup brewed coffee
21/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon ground cloves
1 tablespoon cinnamon
1 tablespoon ginger
1 tablespoon nutmeg
4 tablespoons (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, melted

Method:
Cream eggs and sugar together. Stir in buttermilk, water, and coffee and set aside. In a separate bowl sift together remaining dry ingredients.
Stir egg mixture into dry ingredients, then mix in melted butter.
Add more water or buttermilk if necessary, but batter should be thick.
Cook until done on a lightly greased hot griddle or in a heavy skillet (turn once when bubbles appear on upper side and start to break).
Pancakes will be thick and cake-like in texture.

Makes 8 to 10 five-inch pancakes.

Oh, and here's a picture of my mom. She's cute. The handsome chap with her is Boy Wonder. He's rad, too. They're a lot alike.

A story in itself...

We had to go to the Muni cemetery yesterday to help P out with an anthropology project. It was a bright, sunny day and it was warm and not too gruesome...so I didn't see the harm in taking the boys. Boo is too young anyway, and with the stuff his dad tells him about wars and death, I figured the cemetery wouldn't be too bad for Boy Wonder. And if it was, we could go shopping to kill time while P finished.

It wasn't a big deal to Boy Wonder, and he was interested especially in the military graves. He wanted to know which service each person buried in the VFW plot had been in...and what war he might have served in.

When we got to the public section, we saw a headstone with a picture of Jesus on it. He thought Jesus was buried there, and I had to explain that it was a picture somebody put on their grave. That Jesus "watched" over the grave. I turned back around and started walking a few steps, not knowing Boy Wonder wasn't behind. When I turned back, this is what I saw...him praying for whoever's gravestone that was. He told me he asked Jesus to keep watching over the lady and to not forget her.

It struck me because we hadn't talked about praying or anything like that, and he didn't know I had a camera with me (to take picture of cultural differences, etc.). P and I always joke that Boy Wonder is going to be in the clergy somehow. He says grace each night without fail, he has to be at church every Sunday...we even call him "The Rev" sometimes.

Can't explain what it feels like when you realize your child is capable of incredible empathy, all on their own and without prompting from you.

Love that kid...

Sundays are Fundays with Pumpkins

In our house, we only have one morning each week where we all can wake up at the same time and have nowhere to be. I know that doesn't sound bad, but in reality, it stinks. Saturdays are a blur between P getting to school and me getting the babysitter and Boy Wonder and I hustling off to basketball. It's a blur.

Most Sunday mornings I'm a grumpy mess because for some reason, Boo parties like a rockstar on Saturday nights and thinks 3 a.m. is dandy waking hour. He's standing now and will pull/pinch/punch whoever is sleeping nearest his crib to have a playmate. (An unhappy one.)

Anyway, we made the decision to make Sunday breakfasts special and more than the usual fill a bowl of cereal, pour some juice and Bob's-your-uncle. (In my case, Bob really is my uncle, but you get what I'm saying.)

I breezed through a recipe for Pumpkin Pancakes a couple weeks about but didn't write it down. That's ok, because it was from scratch and complicated and messy. I tinkered around in the kitch this morning and came up with these fine flapjacks instead. And they were a hit. Even though it took four hours, Boy Wonder ate all of his and even complimented me. Hooray!

Pumpkin Pancakes (Megan's cheating version)
1 and 1/4 cup pancake mix (I used Krusteaz)
1 cup water (more or less depending on consistency of batter)
(Mix together)
+
1/2 cup Pureed Pumpkin
1/4 water (or more, depending on consistency of batter)
2 teaspoons pumpkin pie spice
1 tablespoon sugar

Voila. These took a little longer to cook through, I learned. But they were delicious and i think they'd be FANTASTIC with real maple syrup, some chopped bananas, and some walnuts. Just sayin'. (We had syrup and powdered sugar and it was equally blissful.)

The great pumpkin, some hocus, some pocus, and Little Jack Jenkins...

Part I

(In which the author updates her friends on Week 2 and 3 of the new Halloween/October movie tradition).

So week 2 of our Friday night Halloween Movie gig went smoothly...mostly because I SNAFUed Netflix and didn't get a scary movie delivered for P and I. I accidentally had "Sex and the City The Movie" delivered, and well, other than the premise of basing your whole existence on whether or not you marry Mr. Big (I'm still 100% Team Aiden), it's not very scary.

Boy Wonder, on the other hand, got a copy of "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!" We watched it while P cooked Dinner last week and the kid loved it. Loved loved loved it! Thank you Charles Schulze, you saved my fledgling tradition.

This week (the movies are already waiting for tomorrow night!) we have "Hocus Pocus" for Boy Wonder. Probably my favorite Halloween Movie ever, mostly because I have a lifelong fascination/strange love of all things Bette Midler (especially when she had buck teeth!). Even though it's not animated, I think he'll love it.

For us, I remembered seeing the 70s version of "The Omen" and it scaring the wee out of me. Since P likes the religion good v. evil stuff a lot more than some random schiz hacking his family apart...I'm hoping for a mark in the W category. Wish me luck...

Part II

(In which the author talks about the new thingy she's doing with Boy Wonder)

We've signed three reading contracts with Boy Wonder's kindergarten teacher so far this year. I'm not sure if she's losing them or if I'm just signing on the wrong line or in the wrong color pen...but they keep coming home and I keep signing them and sending them back.

The gist is that we're supposed to read to Boy Wonder every single day. Every single day. It sounds so great in theory, doesn't it? But in practice, it's pretty hard. And the books he brings home are those really short, few words a page alliteration books that are supposed to help kids memorize the words so they can start recognizing them by sight...

Anyway, after the third night of the dish, the chair and the spoon running away to New York only to have the fork, the knife, and the dog meet them there (seriously...that's the story in four pages), Boy Wonder and I needed something more.

And there was born "Little Jack Jenkins."

I spend countless hours each week typing away at whatever work in progress I've convinced myself will lift me out of the M-F work week mundane life I lead, and I never really thought of writing for my son. Until he asked me to.

So when I have time, I take a couple sheets of notebook paper, and I write about Little Jack Jenkins, a flashlight named "Blaze," and a stuffed dog named "Marvelous Marvin." And I read them to Boy Wonder at night. And he recognizes himself in these stories. And his stuffed dog. And hopefully, if it all goes well, he'll learn (like Little Jack Jenkins does) that anything can be an adventure in life.

So far, Little Jack Jenkins has met the hobbity gobbity when he wouldn't go to sleep like his mother told him ("Little Jack Jenkins Meets the Hobbity Gobbity"), he's flown to outer space to return an alien boy's toy ("Little Jack Jenkins Plays Outerspace Baseball") and he's even crossed swords with his own dinner ("Little Jack Jenkins and the Spaghetti and Meatball Monster").

When I have time, I've been hand copying the stories in to an extra journal I had lying around.
I know in a few years, Little Jack Jenkins will be lame and embarrassing, but my hope is that when it comes time for Boy Wonder to have his own baby wonder, maybe "Little Jack Jenkins" will help him out and he'll have something to remember our times together.

That's the hope anyway. That, and it's way more fun making up your own bedtime stories once in a while. True story.

I'm currently working on Little Jack Jenkins and the Sleep Pirates... What are sleep pirates, anyway?? Yaaar!

Life is good, life is good...

..."here comes the happy ending" update...t-minus six weeks and counting

Yes, we are less than six weeks from the big day. I can hardly believe it sometimes. We should be panicked, shouldn't we? We should. I know we should.

But we're not.

So far, I have bought snazzy invitations (no, those to the left are not my invitations, so you'll totally be surprised when they show up in your mailbox. Don't try to read the photo for pertinent info...that's not our wedding. Be there Nov. 14 at 7 p.m., ok?) to send to our family and friends, but the printer folks seemed to assume that I'm using carrier pigeons and not envelopes to deliver them. Yes, they sent me invites with no envelopes. Thanks, guys.

But hey, I promise they're totally cute and brown and swirly and Autumn-y and you'll totally get yours as soon as those crazy printer people send envelopes and one of us makes it to the post office to buy stamps. I hate buying stamps. Seriously.

Along with the "hey you should show up" notices, I got my dress. Well, that's the rumor anyway. Supposedly it showed up at the house today, but since P's not the excitable, call you with all the gossipy details and gush over the phone how AWESOME the dress is, I figured I'd just open it when I get home.

I'm so excited about the dress. SO. Excited. About every little thread, button, and detail...everything EXCEPT that ever-lovin' size tag. What is with bridal gowns?

Is it some sick joke to make these over-priced, fouffy pieces of nonesense two sizes smaller than the actual tag, so crazy-bride-lady has to swallow any semblance of dignity and pride and order a few sizes up? What the hell?

Since when was a size 8 dress equivalent to a size 00 jeans? Just curious...

I hate you, bridal gown manufacturers. I hate you for making tulle so abundant and I hate you for feeding the body-hate machine in the mirror. No wonder that blood-thirsty, ass-kickin' maniac in "Kill Bill" was aptly named "The Bride." I get it now.

And no, that dress to the right isn't mine. Mine is made with thread and chiffon, not pencil lead. I hope, anyway. I'll let you know tonight if I go home and find a different story.

Still to go: flowers, cake, desserts, rings, marriage license, fashion for the gentlemen, fashion for the ladies, reception logistics, rehearsal dinner logistics, ceremony music logistics, money, centerpieces, hotel room, money, money, and oh... money.

Hehe...I so funny somtimes...

In search of a new October tradition

Fail!

I tried. I really did. I was looking for some way to usher in the month of October because I really, really love the month of October. Like really, really. Can't explain it, other than maybe I had a mom who went all out with costumes and trick or treating and the whole she-bang. (Boy George one year, I kid you NOT!).

So instead of waiting another three weeks to get into the October spirit, I announced to the family last week that each Friday night in the month of October shall be known as "Halloween Movie Night." (Royal Proclamation, even...)

The plan was/is to have one kid-friendly movie...eat popcorn...watch movie...put kid to bed. The second of the double feature would definitely be kid un-friendly and would showcase the gore, the screams, the scares. The AWESOMENESS. Yeah!

For week one, I scanned through Netflix and found "The Nightmare Before Christmas." I haven't watched it in a grip, but I remember being somewhat fond of it...I think. We had dinner. We popped the corn. We started the movie. And then...and then...

Twenty minutes into it, P comes up with an errand he has to run after making a comment about the disproportionate amount of songs in the movie (Oh god, it was so true, as much as I hated to admit it...way too much singing. About walking, about thinking, about thinking about walking...GET ON WITH IT, Tim Burton!). Boy Wonder is watching the movie upside down, hanging off the couch. (Never a good sign.) He hangs on and sticks it out until the end, but by then, even I was getting bored and scratching my eyes out whenever Jack the Pumpkin King sang. Something about that voice...

I remember it being WAY cooler in 1997 and we must be spoiled in 2009, because there were moments when I considered jumping on Facebook and abandoning ship altogether.

*sigh*

We put Boy Wonder to bed, told him to stay put because a "scary movie" was coming on and started movie # 2. Rob Zombie's version of "Halloween." I never saw the version with Jamie Lee Curtis in the 70s (80s?). I think I saw this one a few years ago, but the memory is foggy. So we fire it up. And it's disturbing.

Not really in the "wow! a halloween movie!" kind of way. More like the "I really could have gone my whole life without seeing that nasty crap" sort of way. I've now seen both movies R.Z. has directed and I gotta say I'm kinda disgusted with his obsession/need to include a violent rape scene(s) in his movies. To be honest, it pisses me off. There, I said it. Makes me want to stab him in the eye with a pencil.

So yeah. The movie was violent and disturbing in ALL THE WRONG WAYS. I hated it. Hated hated hated it. I had trouble sleeping that night with the random, disturbing vibes I was feeling. Not cool. As we were heading to bed, P made a casual comment somewhere in the vein of "You know, I really like comedies..." I get it, I get it...

Total first week failure.

But all was not lost...

We redeemed the weekend by getting a babysitter and seeing "Zombieland" last night. AWESOME movie. I like where this Horror/Comedy genre is going. It felt like an American take on the "Shaun of the Dead" vibe, and I dug it. P laughed, too, so that's a complete success in my book.

Haven't figured out what movies are on the schedule for week 2. Totally open for suggestions...