BlueMagnolias

Green Deviled Eggs (hello, I’m southern too)
Beer battered Broccoli
Open Faced Reuben’s
And
Black Velvets.

Can. Not. Wait

ofakind:

Least overwhelming fashion week coverage ever: One look we love from the fall 2012 shows we care about. See more hits here, and click thisaway for the full collection.

As I was having some quiet time this morning (and by quiet I mean, noisy, chaotic, “quiet” time) I couldn’t help but think about the things that make this season of life difficult.  No sleep, my two year old exerting his will on everything, a husband who is starting to travel more with his job.  And in all those things I kept hearing a whisper of “in this there is joy”.  There is joy in not sleeping because it means we have a beautiful, healthy baby.  There is joy in a temper tantrum because it means our son is smart and strong and growing into his very large personality.  There is joy in having a husband who works hard for his family.  In every stage in life there are things in which to rejoice or which can bring struggle.  I realized this morning that these are often the exact same things.  During this holiday season, it is my prayer to stay in the moment.  Not to wish for Christmas past or Christmas future, but to realize the gift in staying in Christmas Present.  

I love when I try to make something new and it turns out edible, I mean yummy.  Just made super easy pumpkin muffins that are actually pretty delicious.

We get an organic share from the local buying club each week.  Most of the stuff is pretty “regular” but at least a couple times a season there are some new-to-me items that I’m not quite sure what to do with.  This week it was mini pumpkin pie squash (and rutabagas). 

To start with I roasted the squash (sliced in half and placed face down on a tray, it becomes it’s own little steamer) on 350 for 40 minutes.

Once the house smelt awesome, I scooped out the pulp (it ended up being 16 oz, give or take) and mixed it with 3 eggs, 1 1/2 cups agave nector, 4 oz apple sauce and 4 oz vegetable oil.

From there I slowly (i.e. hand mixed) stirred in three cups flour, 1 teaspoon nutmeg, 1 teaspoon cinnamon, 1 teaspoon ground cloves, 1 teaspoon baking soda, 1/2 teaspoon salt, 1/2 teaspoon baking powder.

Spoon into cupcake cups and bake for 25 minutes or until dried spaghetti strand comes back clean when inserted into the center. 

My father in law is a retired detective.  We are have taught  our son from the beginning that the police are there to help you and catch bad guys.  He knows that if he is ever in trouble, if he sees a policeman or woman he should go to them for help.  Those who protect and service have become on the same level as Batman, working to make the world good and safe.  

So what happens when “the good guys” aren’t good?  I really was hoping to avoid having this type of discussion with him for a few (ten) years. It is hard enough for an adult to understand how people who are “supposed” to be good can be bad, or how those meant to help you don’t always.  How can I explain something to a two year old that I don’t really understand myself?

Last week I got a ticket.  Not fun, but it happens.  That isn’t the upsetting part.  When I got pulled over R was so excited to see a policeman up close.  He loves seeing the police, and in the past they have been super nice to him.  I explained to the officer how much my son looks up to the people that catch “bad guys”.  He wasn’t interested.  He completely ignored my son’s attempts to say hello to him.  He asked for my license and registration and went straight back to his car (not once telling me why I got pulled over).

After making us sit for fifteen minutes with absolutely no contact (at this point I’m still reassuring R that the policeman is just helping us.  We are keeping up random chatter about our surroundings).  When he comes back, he gives me a ticket for expired tags and a court date.  He then starts loudly berating me for my “crime”.  At this point, I teared up because hey, I’m pregnant and I don’t like yelling.   My son starts sobbing in the backseat, “I thought police were supposed to catch bad guys, my mommy isn’t a bad guy”.  Again instead of acknowledging him, the officer again yelled at me “Not to be so emotional”, stating “I don’t need you to go into labor on me”.  Yeah, me either.  

The bottom line is this.  Actions matter.  The officer who pulled me over really didn’t care about me, or my family; he didn’t really care about the effects of his actions.  But they really mattered to us.  When R saw a policeman at the mall yesterday, he got upset and sacred.  Basically, all of our teaching went out the window with one bad experience.  So as a mom, I ask those in positions of authority to really think about their actions.  It may not seems to matter to you, but it does matter to those with whom you are interacting.   

Why is it that on days where your (insert my) patience is the most thin, everything seems to go wrong?