Pie in the sky....

...in your eye, or on the fly. However you want your pie, I'd be doing you a grave disservice if I didn't share this amazing upside-down apple pie recipe with you. It's THAT good.




Here's the recipe:


Upside Down Apple Pie

6 Tablespoons butter, melted and divided
1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
1/2 cup chopped pecans
2 refrigerated pie crusts
1 cup granulated sugar
1/3 cup all purpose flour
3/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon apple pie spice
5 large Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored and cut into 1/2" slices

Coat a deep-dish pie plate with nonstick cooking spray and line it with parchment paper. Coat the paper with cooking spray also. Now, I used a deep-dish pie plate, the Emile Henry brand from Williams-Sonoma and it is a little deep for refrigerated dough (there is not a lot of hangover for sealing the two crusts together). I think a regular pie plate would be fine.

In a small bowl combine 4 Tablespoons of melted butter, brown sugar and pecans. Mix well and spread evenly over the bottom of the pie plate, on top of the parchment. Place one of the crusts in the pie plate, pressing it firmly against the nut mixture and up the sides of the plate. Set aside.

In a large bowl, combine granulated sugar, flour, cinnamon and the remaining 2 Tablespoons of melted butter. Mix well. Add the apples in and toss gently to coat. Spoon into the pie crust.

Place the second crust over the apple mixture. Trim and fold the edges together to seal and cut some slits in the top of the crust for venting. Because my pie dish is so deep I sealed the edges the best I could. I really couldn't fold and seal but it didn't matter at all.

Bake 1 to 1-1/4 hours or until crust is golden brown in a 375 degree oven. (Mine took 1-1/4 hours in the bottom third of my oven.) Make sure to place a cookie sheet on the bottom oven rack to catch any drips from the pie.

Let the pie cool for 5 minutes and then place a plate that is larger than the pie on top of it and flip it over. Use oven gloves as it will still be hot. Remove the pie plate and gently lift the paper. Allow to cool. Serve warm or at room temperature.

And here's where I found it:
noblepig.com

Make. Eat. Enjoy (it's impossible not to)!

Grandparents' love is like no other...

We were fortunate to have Michael's mom & step-dad visit us from Texas this weekend. It was an absolutely delightful visit. Daddy Jack has such old-fashioned charm. Grandma Nummie is so talented - she sews and can lay tile with the best of them! Perhaps though, one of the truly most remarkable things about them though is that in their golden years they are raising their three year-old granddaughter, Leona (who is aptly nicknamed "Button"). Button is truly as cute as her nickname, with all the charm a three year-old girl has. She loved playing with her cousins' toys. The cousins weren't bad, but the toys were a big hit. We had several wonderful meals together, and got a little crispy watching Adam's baseball game together.

Growing up, I didn't really know my grandparents. Most of them were dead, and the one that was alive was... well, let's just say not really grandparent minded. I'm so grateful that my kids can know their grandparents. It's a shame we only get to see our parents once every year, but we're thankful for any chance we get. Mostly, we're thankful that our kids have grandparents in their lives because nothing is amazingly unconditional as the love grandparents can give. Thanks for the visit Anne & Jack. We hope for many more.

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Thomas' "blue" period

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The why (sic) you do the things you do...

It's interesting - this blogging thing. It's this amazing nowhere that helps connect me with people everywhere. People I love. Even people I have never heard of. I have followers on my blog! I can't believe it. I don't know how they even found me. I have to say though, that I'm grateful for them. I don't know what my little life can do for their lives, but I hope that I uplift them some how.

My blog deoesn't always tell the whole story. I don't post all of the heartaches I deal with about my daughter because I want to protect her privacy. There's a little I can share though. She's not your average teenage bear. She's been through a lot of really tough stuff. We adopted her when she was nine, and her years prior to being ours were sickingly awful. The kind of stuff that brings women to tears and men to fisticuffs...and then to tears. Sufficent to say there was not a single kind of abuse she hasn't endured in those first precious nine years of her life. Her biological mother was Michael's sister. Her bio dad signed his rights away when she was a baby. He's not sure he's the dad, and I'm sure I don't blame him for questioning that notion. There's never been a right time to explore it further, but eventually, I hope there will be. No matter what direction that goes in, it will open up a can of very wiggly worms. I'm not a big fan of worms in general.

That being said, (by the way, I hate when people say "needless to say." If it were needless to say, then why say it?) her teenage years are like teenage girl multiplied to the nth factor. That may not even be a high enough multiplication factor. She struggles in so many areas. It's hard to watch her make her way through life. It's hard to watch how all that pent up anger manifests itself in my life and it's hard to watch the effect it has on the rest of our family. I have to believe that somehow this will work out. That in time with love, nurture, and the right team of therapists, she will find her way. I pray that's true. I pray it with my whole heart and every ounce of my being.

Why am I telling you this?

I guess I'm feeling guilty that I'm not superwoman. Somehow, I still believe that I'm supposed to keep my house perfect (ha! it's sooooooo far from it), homeschool my son (that's a bright spot truthfully), get dressed every day, spend quality time with my five month old and my twenty month old, make dinner, stay on budget, hold daily personal and family scripture study and prayer, climb every mountain, overcome every obstacle, and oh yeah, still be everything my daughter needs me to be.

Compromise comes out of necessity, but I feel guilty for everything I can't do. I can't keep my house as clean as I want it to be. Heck, some days I think I can't even keep it as clean as the Board of Health would want it to be (okay, maybe that's a slight exaggeration). Then I look at the lives of eveyone around me, and they seem to have it together, so what's my problem? And, by the way, what am I doing comparing my worst to their best? C'mon - I know better than that! And yet I do. Because more than anything I want a clean house. And more than anything I am a sucker when my toddler cries because he wants me spending time with him and not loading dishes into the dishwasher.

My son is studying tornados right now. Sad how much I relate. Some days I am right there in the vortex being sucked ever downward. Some days, I picture myself hurtling myself over the top of the funnel, overcoming those ever-twisting winds. This is the only thing I know:

I live this tornado in every moment. And I know that it will pass. I know this is temporary. This knowledge is my sanity. I also know that I miss feeling organized. I mourn the lack of clothes hung up neatly in closets instead of piled on my chair getting wrinkled and cat hairy. And yet, I remember this:

"One hundred years from now, it will not matter what my bank account was, how big my house was, or what kind of car I drove. But the world may be a little better, because I was important in the life of a child." -Forest Witcraft

And that, my friends, is the "why" I do the things I do. Now if I can just get the house clean...

P.S. While I was typing this, allow me to share what my toddler was doing with the aforementioned unorganized laundry:

Nothing, what's snew with you?

So a guy walks up to another guy and asks him if he'd like some snew. "Snew," says the second guy, "what's snew?" "Nothing," replies the first guy, "what's 'new' with you?"
(INSERT GROAN HERE)
That my friends, is about what's (or what's not) happening here, hence the lack of blog posts. I'll give you the breakdown:

Michael - same job, same bat time, same bat station. We're grateful for the job.

Kristin - working at Weight Watchers, having some good days, some not as good days. At least I'm not gaining weight!

Frankie - preparing for her recital on May 22nd. Anybody want to be here for that? You're welcome to join us!

Adam - homeschooling, playing with friends. Overall, it's a good life. Betta still alive. The Betta's name is Perry. Perry the Betta.

Thomas - has a fever today, picking up new words all the time. The words that we know he now knows are: Ma, Da, Na-nee (Frankie), Baaaaa (Max), A-dee (Adam), Nana (our friend Riana), caca, sting cheeeee(string cheese), Goom followed by bah (goomba), boo,no, yah, book, shoe, here, bye, hi, there, pooh, Elmo and a growl sound that means Cookie Monster. He can also sign "more" and "please." We're working on sign language for "thank you." He has conversations with us on a regular basis, but only he (and possibly God) know what he's saying. Those conversations go something like this: "Maaaaaa (or Daaaaaaa)?" "Yes, Thomas?" "Bzhaa scree ajahjada blado bluh jah adebudo gaaaali" followed by him nodding his head. We occasionally catch something that might be "I love you," but it's hard to say for certain.

Max - growing so quickly. He can turn over, but has a hard time turning back over. He has a huge smile, and I swear that when he smiles at me he uses every muscle in his face. It's so sweet. He talks a lot too, but his language is even less discernible than Thomas' and I'm almost positive that God understands everything he says. I hold Max up in front of me, and he smiles and launches into his little Max conversation (lots of squeals, ahs, and ah oooos) and I respond with "Oh, really?" and "Tell me more." Talk. Answer. Rinse. Repeat. Okay, maybe not rinse.

So, maybe we did have a few "snew" things, but nothing mind boggling or earth shattering. That's really not so bad. Life's not easy for us (teenage daughters are um... interesting), but we take joy in the easy and simple things. And that folks, is all she wrote.

(Except for) Until next time...

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A fish story

Today, a goldfish broke my heart.

I hate goldfish. Not the crackery kind - those are sort of yummy. The live kind. The kind that need to have their water changed on a weekly basis. The kind that look adorable swimming in their little tanks, with their colorful rocks and their plastic plant life. I hate them. Because tonight (as I knew she inevitably would), my son's goldfish took her turn (er, spin?) in that great toilet bowl in the sky.

Let me go back a little bit.

December 2009

Adam is bursting with excitement. You see, he has FINALLY earned his very own pet goldfish. We are very proud of him. He has learned to stay in his bed all night for over a month and despite every bad dream, against every desire for the comforts of mom and dad's bed, he has prevailed for 30 days in a row and can now go the store and buy his chosen reward - his very own goldfish. Every day for almost a week he hopes that today will be the day we will go to the fish store and pick up his very special fish. And I watch his joy-filled little face as he picks out his very favorite goldfish. He tells everyone about his goldfish - other customers in the store, the check-out lady, every friend he comes in contact with, and practically every stranger he meets.

Today is a proud day for Adam, and a bittersweet day for Adam's mommy. I know that goldfish generally do not have a very long life expectancy, and I know that at some point, my son will likely have to deal with the loss of a beloved friend. Today was that day. And this is why I hate goldfish.



And tomorrow, since I love my son WAAAAAAY more than I hate golfish, we will go to the fish store and buy Goldie the second. Who will be a Beta. Because they live longer. (I hope).