Adventures in Anger Management: Episode 2 - Wrath at the Sacred Grove

So last month our Branch went on a temple trip. Babysitting was organized* though not as well organized as I would have liked since I was never able to find it. I drove about an hour and a half to get to the temple on time only to have my morning kinda ruined by what turned out to be an email I never got explaining where the babysitting was going to be. I spent about 15 minutes looking for the babysitting site and never found it, all the people I would have called were already inside with their phones off. I was forced to miss the temple session.

Let me just pause and say that things like this happen and I understand, I really really do. My name must have been missed on the email list explaining the babysitting situation, accidents happen, and its ok. But the "me" in Palmyra, NY at 11:00 am on November 19 with Ellie in her arms, was fit to enter a cage match. And win.

Fortunately, Palmyra, NY is where Joseph Smith is from and thus where our church originated. There are a lot of church historical sites in little Palmyra. Down the street from the Temple is Joseph's boyhood home and the woods where he received his first vision of God and Christ. We call those woods the Sacred Grove.

I say "fortunately," because if I wasn't going to be in the temple which is God's house, then the next best thing was to be in the woods where He appeared. So Ellie and I made our way to the Sacred Grove in other to find some of calm and peace. And guess what? We did find it.

But not before I shattered the buckle of my diaper bag in a small fit of rage.

I don't know if you can really tell from the picture but one of the buckles is missing and without it I can't really wear it. It went from being a diaper bag to being a diaper clutch. It takes a parent to understand the relationship between you and your diaper bag. Diaper Dude really does make the best diaper bags and I was head-over-heels for mine.

Enter rage. Once we had arrived at the Sacred Grove site, I was pulling Ellie out of her car seat while still fuming. I failed to notice that my diaper bag was sitting on the floor of the car with its buckle sitting on the exact spot where the door was going to close. Well... I won't describe exactly what happened next (don't worry, Ellie was unharmed) but in the end I did not gingerly shut the car door. And thus I was left perfect-diaper-bag-less.

I was sad until I realized this was an opportunity to buy this batch of awesomeness:

The best part is that it's a Diaper Dude bag. So it's the same bag I had before, just slathered in cool-sauce. It came out earlier this year, but I couldn't justify buying it until now.

Maybe a little anger is a good thing?

Stay tuned for more Adventures in Anger Management!!!

Next episode: Swearing with your Toddler

*For those of you who aren't LDS, kids aren't allowed in the temple most of the time, for lost of reasons but I suspect mainly as a way of keeping the noise level down. Plus they'd just get bored in there.

Sistahs from Different Mistahs

That's a thing, right? The title sounds like a Bostonian is reading it.

I recently returned from a trip to Portland (Oregon, not Maine) where I reunited with my college roommates from my junior year - the year before I got married.

Let me tell you a little bit about junior year. It was filled with crushes, good food, laughs, some yoga, A LOT of Arrested Development, a heap of Jane Austen, Saturday morning dance parties, tons of homework, a couple of panic attacks, a few tears, two proposals, one mission call and a lot of acting in order to portray the exact happenings of the date one of us had just been on. Oh yeah, and a good helping of make-up and house paint. And that's the Reader's Digest version.

As you may imagine, it was fun-sauce.

So, happy was the day when one of us (Kristin?) brought up the idea that we should start a roommate reunion so as to make sure we don't lose each other's friendships. Last year everyone came to Ithaca. This year we all went to Portland (Oregon, not Maine). I cannot begin to express how thankful I am to have women such as these in my life. Predictably, we are all very different (as characterized by the actresses we have chosen to play us in the movie version of our friendship) but we all just fit.

I am thankful that we each make the sacrifice to fly out to wherever to see each other and replenish each other's batteries. I, for one, NEEDED the weekend I spent with them. Holy crap. I didn't realize how lonely I was until I was with people that were happy to see me. It was just so nice to have friends around me that I had earned on my own merit and not because they came attached to Ellie's friend or even church. Don't get me wrong, I've met some great girls here in Ithaca, but there's nothing like going back to the friends that knew you when you were "you" and not someone's wife or mom.

I am thankful that we are all so different because we stretch each other's minds a little bit. We might not necessarily agree with each other but it sure makes for interesting conversation. Besides having a nice mix of personalities made it so I laughed harder than I had in a LONG time. We can talk for hours and we did. One day for like 7 hours. Ugh, so good to talk about everything and anything all the while laughing.

I'm thankful for friends that accept me exactly me. Friends I know I don't have to edit myself with. Friends who remember details about my life that even I don't. In short, I'm just thankful friends who I love and love me (or is it "whom," Mel?).

Can't wait for next year's reunion.

Adventures in Anger Management: Episode 1

Brandon looking down at the trash can lid in the dining area.

B: Why is this trash can lid in the dining area?

N: Well, I was mad so I ripped the lid off the trash can then when I tried to put it back on and couldn't, I got mad again and threw it. I can't remember why I was mad in the first place though....

Stay tuned for more Adventures in Anger Management...ent...ent...ent!!!

Approaching Departure

It's hard to believe that our time in Boston is coming to an end. It took us a while to warm up to Boston but that's only because we were coming from Ithaca and in our minds, Ithaca is a little slice of rural hippie heaven. So really, the best kind.

In the end though, Boston has been really fun and I've enjoyed being surrounded by such intense American history. There is really no escaping it around here. Unfortunately, it's kind of confusing to be surrounded by so many Tea Party things because you always have to think twice about whether it's the Boston or the Sarah Palin kind.

Boston Summary (thus far):

1. Everything looks really colonial and thus bricky brown. It's cool but then gets kind of old.

2. The Charles River is stinky, but it makes for a scenic city.

3. Driving here is confusing and crazy. You know those pictures of New York City at the turn of last century where there aren't any dividing lines between lanes? That's what the Boston suburbs are like.

4. Food here has been great. Yay!

5. The people are really ballsy and straight-forward and pretty great.

6. There are A TON of universities here, which have been fun to discover.

7. Beaches around here are surprisingly pretty. But you have to pay for them to get on, which is weird. Didn't stop us from being frequent visitors.

8. Fenway is one of the last surviving old-school stadiums.

9. Museum of Fine Arts is truly fantastic.

10. Tom Brady is within driving distance.

Old State House - Revolution movement began here

Faneuil Hall

Ellie in our Waltham pad.

Ellie waiting for Dad to come down from his office.

Kayaking the Charles

Pre-kayaking the Charles

MIT from the river.

The Democratic Donkey

Granary Burying Ground - I think one of my favorite parts about MA have been the cemetaries.

Hanging out at Cape Anne.

More sand fun.

Brandon likes to think that people actually believe he's the Stig. I kind of hope he is because that would be really hot.

At Franklin Park Zoo. Least human-friendly zoo I have ever been to, but Ellie LOVED the goats so it was worth it.

New England Aquarium.

Plymouth Rock. Not as glamorous as it sounds. It is in fact, a rock.

Boston Harbor.

Ellie being a knight in glittery armor at the Children's Museum.

Old State House again, this time on the side where the Boston Massacre happened. My hair is in mourning.

Ellie telling Harvard what she thinks of it. Go Cornell!

In Summary

I don’t love posting pictures. It’s just an ache. I believe a good story is worth a thousand pictures. And a good argument is worth a million.

I recently came back from a trip to California to go visit my family. And by “visit” I mean be forgotten while my parents fawn over Ellie. And by “parents”, I mean the loveable loons I lived with before realizing that people actually used dishwashers to wash dishes, not just to hold the dishes that didn’t fit in the regular cupboards.

I could post pictures. However, they would all be the same inane variation of adult smiling and holding Ellie. Or Ellie at the beach. Or Ellie chasing one of the Trejo cats or Jacobsen dogs. Or Ellie smearing food on her face. But aren’t we all a little tired of Ellie?

Instead, I thought I would recreate my favorite conversation from my two weeks in California to give you a taste of the kind of thing that a picture just can’t.

During our breakfast preparations:

Ellie sits in the background happily dipping something in syrup and nursing a black eye.

“MOM! I said no beans!” I yelled.

“Oh, I heard “yes” on the beans. Where is your dad? Eduardo. Eduardo! EDUARDO!!! BREAKFAST!!!” You do not want to make this woman wait after a meal has been served.

“MOM! Ugh! You’re deaf. And if he’s not answering it’s because he can’t hear you. Duh.”

“If no one can be nice then don’t say anything at all. EDUARDO! EDUARDO!!”

“MOM!! SHUT UP!”

“You shut up. There you are! I was calling and calling and calling! What part of breakfast do you not understand? You’re making us all wait. We’re ready to eat.”

My dad is stumbling out of the hall, “I was in the bathroom.”

My mom rolls her eyes, “Surprise. Natalia, do you want salsa?”

“Yes, but I can do it myself, Mom, it’s ok. I’m not Dad.” I reply briskly.

Dad gets up to leave as he has been offended.

Mom is in what I like to call, General mode, “Sit down and EAT! What did I tell you about being nice?”

“Where is my lemonade?” my dad sulks.

“In the fridge. Get it yourself. Please.” replies the General.

“I tried, but it’s all the way at the back.”

“So?” asks the General, knowing full well what his answer is going to be. Even Ellie knows.

“I can’t reach it. It’s like, WAY in the back.”

“Ok. Sit down and I’ll reach it for you, little prince.” The General has quickly dissolved back into my mom. Somehow she can see my dad’s calculated uselessness as endearing - I think it’s because she knows he really would starve without her.

“All you two do is pick on me. I don’t have a fork.” Dad sulks hopefully. He knows that if he looks pitiful enough someone will get up and get him a fork. He’s so hunched over his eggs he looks like Eeyore. I get up, get one and hand it to him and he cheerfully starts eating.

Finally we all sit down and officially start breakfast.

My mom starts in again with her Anger Book doctrine. The same book I received as my Mother’s Day gift. “I know we all said things we regret, but I really feel that as a family we must pull together and learn to love and forgive one another. My anger book says…”

“BOOH!!” My dad and I yell. We are both SO tired of hearing about the Anger Book this, the Anger Book that. I’m just waiting for the Anger Book to have an opinion on how much I eat. And then it’s getting burned.

“MY ANGER BOOK says,” my mom continues, “that sometimes we say things that hurt just because we don’t know any better.

“I’m pretty sure I know better,” I reply.

“Me too.” My dad chimes in.

“No you don’t. You’re both Neanderthals.” And with that my mom continues to indoctrinate us on the Anger Book.

I think the best/worst part about my little family is that we’re all straight-shooters. Very little gets held back, and while feelings can get hurt, at least we all know where we stand. We’re total warfare kind of people. Burn the place before asking questions then assess the damage and ask forgiveness later. It’s not a perfect model and it requires all participants to be entirely on board but it works for us. And if it makes you feel any better, as evidenced above, my mom is trying to make us change.

Here’s the thing. I LOVE my parents. I complain about them all the time (often to my in-laws) and my parents complain about me (often to my in-laws) but that’s just the way we work. We know that at the end of the day you get a good night kiss and an assurance that everything is going to be ok. That you are appreciated, and while you looked a little fat in that shirt and your hair was just not working today, you are loved.

You are loved.

Hypochondriac Much?

I talk to my mom pretty often. Well, she talks to me. If you've met my mom you know that it's hard to get a word in edgewise. A lot of our "conversations" revolve around what illnesses/psychological problems she thinks I'm suffering that week. For example:

-depression

-fibromyalgia

-sleep apnea

-poor nutrient absorption

-anemia

-hypoglycemia

-assorted bowel problems

Rest assured, I don't suffer from any of these issues. I had anemia when I was pregnant, but I was able to shake it after Ellie was born.

Most recently she has decided that I have anger problems. She mentioned that she bought me a book about anger management for Mother's Day.

"But I don't have anger problems. "
"Yes, you do, that's where your depression comes from."

"But I'm not depressed."

"You are, you just don't know it."

"Mom, I've gotta go, we'll talk later."

Having this conversation made my blood boil just a little bit and it took all my self-control to hang up the phone in a civilized manner. Proving her right. And if there is one thing I absolutely abhor with my whole soul, it's proving my mother right.

I wonder if Ellie will feel the same way about me.

The Communal Fridge

Those of you who know me (which I assume is the only reason you're doing me a favor and reading this) will not be shocked to hear I love food. Not news, a lot of people love food. But I love food like musicians love music, like bees love to pollinate, like politicians love to lie. In other words, I can't help myself. And I just want to share that love and spread happy tummy feelings all over the world. So this is the beginning of the happy tummy goal. I may only help one person with one stomach (oh, that we could be cows!) but if it means that one person is happier during a meal then my job is done.

Presenting...The Communal Fridge!

Yup, I have started a food blog. Tell your friends, neighbors, family, frenemies and cohorts. I promise good food. Food that will make you feel comfortable and full and satisfied. Sometimes it'll be fancy, sometimes not. Sometimes it'll be healthy, sometimes not so much. Sometimes it'll take a little prep, sometimes it'll be super fast. But it will always be homemade and it will be tried and tested.

In my dreams this will be a blog that you come to as a resource. That will TEACH you, not just preach. Hopefully after reading a few posts you'll be riffing on the recipes, evolving them to make them your own, to suit your and your family's tastes (and what's in your fridge). Hopefully it'll make your life easier - while always keep quality at the forefront. Hopefully it'll be a place where we can trade ideas.

I recently learned that reptiles only eat once a week because they're cold-blooded they don't have to produce their own heat, they just steal it from a sunny rock. Makes sense. Fortunately we humans have to eat comparatively A LOT in order to keep our temperatures at 98.6. That means at least 3 opportunities for food-induced pleasure in one day! Happy day!

So, let's cook together and eat together. See ya in the kitchen.