Sorry

This apology is mostly to myself - I find blogging very therapeutic and while I'm sure that none of you are losing sleep over the state of my blog, I find that I am.

Anyway, busy does not even begin to describe what the state of affairs has been and Chez Jacobsen. Maybe I'll start calling it Chateau Jacobsen. I digress.

All the craziness will be over around May 5, so I'm looking forward to when I can sit down and blog all about these crazy feelings I've been feeling. Get excited.

For now I leave you with a picture of Ellie, who incidently is one out of the two people keeping me from going on some crazy Taxi Driver like spree.

Ye Olde Cornell

"...something, something, something, my old Cornell!!!"

I'm going to have to work on learning the fight song. Although to be fair I doubt we'll be singing it much. I'm pretty sure the football team is still wearing leather helmets.

The road to getting to grad school has been an interesting one. It all started with a conversation that went like this:

B: I think I want to go to law school.

N: No, you don't.

B: No, I really do, I think a career switch would be a good idea.

N: I agree but you're not going to law school. You'll hate it.

B: So you're saying that if I went to law school you wouldn't be supportive.

N: That's exactly what I'm saying.

Three weeks later...

B: I think I want to go to business school.

N: Sweet, where are you thinking?

See, it's not that I wouldn't have supported Brandon's dream of becoming a lawyer, if that were in fact his dream, but it wasn't. This is why we get married, so someone stops us from making perfectly obvious mistakes. I'm pretty sure Brandon would have stopped himself from going to law school in the long run, but I saved him like 6 months of researching, pondering and praying. So go me.

The reason I so cruelly and abruptly put my foot down against law school is that Brandon just isn't built for it, business school however, is right up his alley and I'm excited that he's actually going to enjoy his schooling for once. I was there practically the whole time he was working on his bachelor's and it was like having to endure that awful sound nails make on a chalkboard. I would call it slow torture.

Anyway, anyone can talk about going back to school but not everyone does it and certainly not everyone gets into an Ivy League school. I'm not trying to brag (although I am extremely proud of Brandon) about him getting into Cornell, but what I am trying to brag about is Brandon's determination. He saw what he wanted and went for it. It was not an easy road. There was a lot of sneaking around because we didn't want his job to know he was leaving until the last minute (which incidentally is when we found out we were leaving), there were prep courses to take, family time to sacrifice, tests to take, lots of hard-earned money to spend, ridiculous applications to complete, a country to fly across for interviews and finally a bunch of crap to pack and a family to move across the country.

I remember when I dropped Brandon off at the GMAT site to take his test he got out of the car and I just sat there and cried. This reaction surprised even me, I was just planning on driving home, not sitting in an office park parking lot sniffling and crying. But I cried for all that time we didn't spend together while he was studying late into the night. I cried out of nerves for him. I cried out of jealousy because a huge part of me misses college.

When I was done crying I left and came back to find out he had done really well and was in the 94th percentile. Then the real fun began and he started to apply which required essay, upon essay, upon essay. All about meaningless crap like exhibiting leadership and overcoming weaknesses.

One day we were driving in the car and he said, "You know, I can do anything I want."
I just stared at him.
"I'm serious," he said, "anyone can. If you want something bad enough and you work hard enough, you can do anything."
"You sound like an acceptance speech. But I see your point. Yeah... I guess you're right, most people just aren't willing to put in the time. I'm certainly not."

And that's what I've learned from Brandon and this whole experience so far. If you work hard, really work hard and focus, you really can do anything. It sounds cheesy but the realization of it kind of took us by surprise. Tons of people go to great grad schools all the time but Brandon never thought he would be amongst one of them and yet here he is - going to school, being a nerd. Nerd or not, I really admire what Brandon has done and mostly the hard work he has put in to get it. I knew I married this guy for a reason.

For Parents

This is for my parents because they're too dense to open the email files I send them.

Parents lay off.

Pork Stew with Hard Cider

So I haven't actually bought the Bon Appettit for March. I just don't feel like spending money on it and I renewed my subscription kind of late so I probably won't be getting another until April. That being said, I have something to say about one of the February recipes.

Pork Stew with Hard Cider, Pearl Onions and Potatoes

Ok, first of all this is the longest title ever. Yet, undaunted, I went to two different stores to find all that I needed. And who would have thought that Hard Cider and pork shoulder would be so hard to find? I guess people like their apple juice without alcohol and their porks without shoulders.

Anyway, by the time I left Whole Foods I was carrying a 40 of Hard Cider (for those of you who don't know what this is, it's pretty much apple beer. And not the Provo kind), the entire Whole Foods supply of pearl onions, and a hunk of pork.

Because I wanted to give this dish my full attention I started cooking at 5pm. Usually it takes me about and hour to get dinner on the table but I was expecting this to take longer so I started earlier. I got a discouraging start because instead of buying shallots I bought green onions thinking the recipe said scallions - but I percevered. About an hour later I was peeling one freaking pearl onion at a time trying to beat the clock in hopes that the stew wouldn't overcook. I don't know if any of you have worked with pearl onions before, but apparently you have to boil them so you can peel them and then finally you can put them in your dish so they will finish cooking. This is exactly what I did - telling myself that it was about the journey of cooking, not the destination. If I enjoyed peeling each damn onion I would somehow find myself in them and thus find answers to all of life's questions and eventually write a book about my journey from lowly onion peeler to celebrated Martha Stewart type person.

There were two serious problems with my daydream: 1. pearl onions are tiny and slippery so my hands were seriously cramping as I peeled 2. I love onions. Why, you may ask yourself, are these such serious problems? Well, I'll tell you.

By the time you peel the tiny bulb you have reduced your marble size onion to a hardly recognizable speck all the while poking your fingers and hands with the paring knife you're working with - no to mention the very legitimate cramp I had in my hand. The other problem stems from the fact onions are my favorite vegetable and at the best of times I'll eat a few pieces of the onions I've chopped. But now, presented with the ever-so-convenient tiny pearl onion I was downing them like a person on a diet downs the office M&M's. So the more I peeled, the more I ate and the more I ate the more I had to peel. It was a vicious, vicious cycle. Finally I got myself under control and fought the pain long enough to put the tiny onions in the stew.

Much hard work and three hours after I started cooking I collapsed on the floor in the living room (to be fair there was some Ellie entertaining mixed in there).

"Blerg... I've been cooking for three hours."

By this time Brandon had come home.

"Nat, why don't you take it easy? You don't have to make really complicated dinners," he said.

I stared at him incredulously.

"Are you trying to kill my spirit? Why do you hate me?!"

He sighed, "I don't hate you, I'm just saying that it's ok if you don't make super complicated dinners." he replied tiredly.

I stared at him trying to decide if he was joking or if he seriouly meant that I didn't need to make super complicated dinners. First of all a stew is hardly complicated, it's the stupid onions that are a nightmare. Secondly, of course I have to make complicated dinners. I have to, it's my thing. We all need our thing. Without our thing we lose a little part of ourselves and after my recent crisis I couldn't afford to lose much else, much less my thing.

So I just gave him a dirty look and got up to serve dinner. Wouldn't you know it, the 3-hour stew turned out delicious. It was nice and gravy-ish and homey. There was a very refreshing hint of sweetness thanks to the apples and apple cider and the perfect saltiness (something I constantly struggle with as you will soon learn). The pork was full of flavor and very tender.

Success!


Fine, this is the photo that came in the magazine but mine looked exactly the same (sans the fine china and fancy table) just ask Brandon.

PS. Here is the promised picture of Ellie. Note: Not all of Ellie's pictures will be food-themed.

"Meat, potatoes, with a side of meltdown please."

I've been deferring posting because I wanted to document my quarter-life crisis in a dignified way. However, can one document a crisis that culminates in chucking Brandon's hiking boots at the bedroom door in a dignified manner? Probably not.

You're probably thinking, "But you throw a lot of things, how can we distinguish a frustrated chuck from a lazy i'm-sure-i-can-reach-the-laundry-basket-from-here-throw?" You make a good point. Allow me to paint you a picture.

Imagine something like the Tasmanian devil (real or cartoon, both are pretty vicious) in mismatched clothes, hurling hiking boots like its life depended on it. Now imagine that in your bedroom.

Anyway, I'm better now, but I was really struggling for a bit there. I can't remember the exact reason why shoes had to fly, all I remember was the frustration I was feeling. It was like a cage was closing in on me and those hiking boots were the only thing keeping it at bay.

"I DIDN'T CHOOSE THIS! THIS WAS NEVER THE PLAN! WHO AM I?!?" my brain kept screaming at me. You see, I have found this transition from law firm employee to stay at home mom really difficult. More than difficult, suffocating. Sometimes I literally felt like I couldn't breathe. It was weird though because the anger and frustration was never aimed at Ellie. Ellie is perfect and if it weren't because something told me I had to keep it together for Ellie's sake, who knows what else I would have been throwing.

Still, though my law firm job wasn't incredibly glamorous, I was part of a team. People liked me (I think) and I liked them. They thanked me for my good work and at 5pm I was able to clock out and change gears. When I quit I was no longer law firm employee, now I was just another mom. A thankless and difficult job. The actual job isn't difficult, I'm perfectly equipped to cook, clean, run a house, be a mom and wife. Anyone is. And I was doing most of that before I quit my job. That's not the hard part. The hard part is doing it over and over and over and over and over again without a thank you, and knowing that tomorrow you'll have to do the same exact things over again. All the while thinking, "I have a college degree for Pete's sake! I was going to BE somebody!"

You see, society is always telling us to be powerful women and put all our effort into our careers or prospective careers, but society never tells us to find a good man, settle down and just enjoy our happily ever after. I think it's because that would mean admitting our moms were right and everyone knows how much we hate it when our moms are right.

When I left my job I left the one thing that stroked my ego. Without that, I suddenly lost all sense of myself and before I knew it I was chucking hiking boots across the room with angry tears running down my face.

How sad and pathetic is that? Furthermore, could I be more ungrateful? My goodness, I get to stay home with a beautiful baby, a great dog, and I get to have an amazing husband. We have plenty for our needs and we live in a beautiful place. It really doesn't get much better than my life. Unfortunately, I hadn't seen any of that - until I was sitting on the floor surrounded by shoes. I had completely lost sense of who I was and what my purpose was and it was no one's fault but mine.

Thank goodness for prayer. I prayed for peace in my heart and for forgiveness for being so ungrateful. Then I started praying for others, for people with real needs like those in Haiti. And praying that I would remember who I was. And I did. I am a daughter of my Heavenly Father. I am mother to Ellie. Wife to Brandon. Daughter to my parents. I'm a cook. THAT'S right! Turns out I had become somebody, perhaps not a world renowned somebody, but a loved somebody nonetheless. I had forgotten all these aspects of myself. I had actually forgotten how much I liked to cook. Weird. When I was working I just did it to feed us, but now, now things would get interesting.

So I threw myself into cooking. I've been cooking up a delicious storm ever since. Now I have goals and something to look forward to. You see, each week I cook one recipe from the Bon Appetit feature of the month. For example, in January it was all about the meatball. February, the meat and potatoes. And March I think it's one-pot meals. I haven't bought March yet.

I'm not trying to say I don't take pride in all the other things I do, like raising Ellie for example. But cooking brings instant gratification that I think we humans need. We all find it in different ways (hopefully constructive) and cooking is mine. Not only have I completed something pretty freaking awesome, but at the end we get to eat it. Take that, scrapbookers!

My other goal is to blog about that week's dish. So you have to hold me accountable. I promise to post a pic of Ellie to go along and keep interest levels high.

I'm not quite done being a somebody yet. I'd like to take some classes to supplement my interests. I'd like to have more kids. I'd like to serve and help others better. But now I know that it's not about my ego being stroked or someone saying, "Good job." It's all about remembering who I am, that I can love and be loved, and that throwing shoes, though satisfying in the moment, is but a temporary fix.

Per Your Request

Per Archie's request here are some updates on what the haps with Ellie have been recently. Brandon and I have been discussing and we've decided Ellie is a very worldly baby. So far she's been to 4 states, countless restaurants, an amusement park, some beaches, lots of grocery store runs, and the library. Ok so on paper it doesn't look so glamorous, but what is really cool is how well Ellie takes it all. We get compliments for her being a very relaxed baby but honestly we can't take any of the credit for it. She just came that way. I don't know if this is the calm before the storm or if we just lucked out this time around but it's getting so that we don't say "thank you" when we get compliments. Now it's more like, "Yeah... I know, " - a habit we must eradicate.

Here is Ellie in her play chair which is where she hangs out when I'm cooking or generally doing something in the kitchen. We usually listen to music - right now Ellie's favorites are Adele and Swell Season.

Here Ellie is being defeated by tummy time. Since then she's flipped over a few times but she's still not a fan. She basically just gives up and starts chewing the closest thing to her mouth.

Here is Ellie at the Sea Life Aquarium at Legoland. She really likes it here. The shark and ray exhibits make her sleepy.

Ellie has recently started eating cereal so this is what I see in the mornings. By the way, I'm pretty sure it was Tuesday that day. Sorry Nuj.

Although I think this needs no explanation, I will offer one: Ellie is wearing her pants.


Here Ellie is modeling with Dad. Recently the "light eyes club" has been formed and guess what? I'm not invited. Let's just say these two think they're so cool. And I'm not.

Oh yeah, and we got her ears pierced.

She did cry but only for a little bit and then forgot all about it. Unfortunately, I'm the one bearing the emotional scars and still find my breath quickening when I think about that day. Brandon had to do it while I stood outside and a) tried to restrain myself from killing the girl piercing her ears and b) tried to keep my panic attack under control . As soon as she was done I walked in gave the piercer a dirty look, made sure I didn't say thank you and whisked Ellie away while Brandon payed.

You may think, "Why are you piercing her ears if you're just going to freak out about it?" Well, I answer, "Because I didn't anticipate on the girl piercing her ears to be complete and utter sloth disguised as a moron." She could not have been any slower or less efficient. And this inefficiency made it so that Ellie was upset longer than necessary. In any case, it's over, I'm not mad at the girl anymore, I'm just presenting the facts. And the fact is Ellie looks super cute.

The Parent Cult

Parenthood brings with it a lot of strange discoveries. Discoveries that make you think, "Wait, why didn't anyone say this before?" It feels like I've been initiated into a silent cult where the members don't discuss the secrets with outsiders and the only way of really knowing is to experience it yourself. Which I guess is what a cult is.

I am going to rebel.

Here are a few things I've learned and realized while being pregnant/mother. I hope there isn't a secret parent assassin that is going to kill me, make it look like an accident and then prepare a PR campaign to smooth out the secrets I've revealed.

1. The length. Pregnancy is longer than 9 months. Oh yes. It's more like 9.5. Which doesn't seem like much of a difference unless you're 9 months pregnant. I don't know why we keep on perpetuating this lie, but we do and it sucks. It especially sucks when you're a week overdue like yours truly.

2. The eating. Babies eat 24 hours a day for the first few months. I know you're like, "Well, duh." But wait until it happens to you and then you'll realize the true meaning of feeding someone 24 hours a day. Not only that, try finding time to feed yourself.

3. The emotions. The first few days after delivery SUCK. And I mean SUCK. Not so much physically, I was surprised at how quickly I was back on my feet and feeling ok, even if it took a little bit to feel 100%. I mean emotionally. It's like PMS on overdrive and you wonder whether you've made a huge tiny mistake. Too many moms are suffering postpartum in silence. It's ok to feel inadequate and strange! This too shall pass.

4. The catheter. Catheters aren't that bad. You always hear about catheters and squirm, but really, they're not so scary. And it's kind of nice to not have to worry about peeing. The nice thing is you don't even realize you have to go, so as far as you know, everything is dandy and you don't miss a second of your show.

5. The fear. Oh, the fear. I had never known fear until I had a kid. It's not like I'm constantly looking behind my back, but even the slightest thought of Ellie being hurt/sad/bullied/cold makes me have to take deep breaths.

6. The guilt. Ah, guilt. A mother's best friend. I don't know if anyone remembers a General Authority saying that mothers are the travel agents for a guilt trip, but it's because we're riddled with it. It's gotten better as Ellie gets easier, but when I came home I was overwhelmed with guilt over things that a normal person would just shrug off.

7. The hygiene. Every one always tries to prepare you for how tired you'll be but no one prepares you for how dirty you'll be. After coming home showering became increasingly difficult and brushing my teeth seemed secondary to the few seconds of sleep I was wasting on brushing. Don't worry, I'm clean again.

8. The presents. When you have a baby, people you don't even know give you presents, it's great! They're hardly ever for you, but they're still so much fun to open!

9. The lack of familiarity. I think what I found most surprising was that even after we got to bring Ellie home she just felt like another baby. She looked at me like, "Who are you?" And I looked at her like, "I live here, who are YOU?" And we would just stare at each other suspiciously. I figured because I carried her for what seemed like an eternity I would immediately bond with her, but it took a couple of weeks until we had truly bonded and I couldn't imagine my life without her. I remember telling Brandon, "I'm not entirely sure who this person is." I'm still not entirely sure, but I know that I adore her.

10. The joy. This is by far the best part. You hear about it, but you can't imagine it. If anything, having a kid is a testimony builder. Now I know why I'm on this earth. Now I know the true meaning of happiness. And why Heavenly Father would want us to have children. Now I understand (at least a little better) Moses 3:19. Again, one of those things no one prepares you for because you can't. I never knew I could love this much, and yes, there are sad unwelcome things that come with parenthood, but they are so so worth it just to feel their little fingers curl around your thumb and to hear their giggles and feel their little head snuggling against your chest. It is pure wonderful bliss.

Granted every kid and parent is different. Some people might not even be able to relate to these "secrets", but at least if I go missing, you guys know what happened to me.