Resolutions

New Year's Eve 2014

So, 2014 was a pretty good year overall.  It had its ups--Taylor's first trip to Florida, breaking ground on our new house, my brother's wedding, the Bucs earning the first overall draft pick in 2015--as well as a few downs--missing my Meme, another Christmas without sugar cookies, the Hartmans becoming Kansans, the Bucs earning the first overall draft pick in 2015...

Luckily it was harder to make my list of negatives, but I still managed to come up with a few things that will make 2015 even better.  So, without further ado, my top ten New Year's Resolutions:

• Create--and stick to--a blog calendar.  Don't laugh.
• Submit at least one writing query per month.
• Get Taylor out of the house everyday.  Even if it's just to walk to the neighbor's house.  I have watched Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown a few too many times.  Although, it's still cute every time she dances along.
• Get up early.  It's amazing what you can squeeze in that hour before the kid wakes up, including Bible study and exercise.  
• Don't let my coffee get cold.
• Wait until Thanksgiving before listening to Christmas music.  Except on my birthday.  And if it randomly comes on the radio.  And during any Christmas related activities prior to Thanksgiving including, but not limited to, shopping for holiday gifts, seeing Christmas lights or other decor, and the first day Christmas Tree Cupcakes hit the shelves.  And especially on early snow days.
• Improve my golf game.  Five year plan--get my LPGA card so I can go on tour with my husband.
• Research and stay on top of my fantasy football team.  I will make the playoffs.  I will win more games than the Bucs did this year.  Hopefully.
• Travel to an away football game.  Preferable Buccaneers at New Orleans or Indy.  Will settle for St. Louis if I have to.
• Stop procrastinating.

There you have it, in no particular order.  Now, what are you going to do to make 2015 great?

the right to remain thankful

I was walking in the park the other day with a fellow mom who was venting her frustrations about her child developing an attitude of entitlement.  The entitlement mentality--the belief that one is inherently deserving of privileges or special treatment--is becoming a greater concern in modern times because of our lives of abundance.  It has never been easier to get what we want and deserve without having to work for it.  We deserve a new car and zero percent financing allows us to own it before we can afford it.  Credit cards urge us to purchase those new shoes because we're worth it.
So what's the cure?  We have to adjust our attitude from entitlement to gratitude.  Acknowledge and appreciate the benefits we receive and say thank you.

Who do you need to tell thanks?

I'm thankful to the guy who fixed our leaky roof--especially on a rainy day.  I'm thankful for the dishwasher doing the dishes so I have time to write.  I'm thankful my 18-month-old daughter slept for 12 hours last night.  I'm thankful my husband has a job so I can focus more time on my family.
A thankful heart has no room for entitlement.  I'm honored to receive a service or a gift instead of deserving such special treatment.  Are you entitled to that five-course restaurant dinner or are you grateful for the groceries in your cabinet?  It's not wrong to enjoy luxuries, but it's right to be thankful for what you have instead of feeling you deserve something better.

time theives

Are there really Christmas trees already making appearances in major retail establishments?  As if time didn't tick away fast enough, we have to rush it along by skipping through the seasons.  Does time really fly by or are we so busy looking forward to the next big thing on the schedule, that we forget to realize what's going on right now?  

Schedule high priority events, but leave room for spontaneous adventures.

Church on Sunday, PTA Tuesday, golf league on Thursday, birthday party Friday.  Some things are worth writing in your calendar, but if you have an event planned for every night of the week, you are too busy to allow for a spur of the moment picnic at the park or last-minute tickets to a ballgame.  It's hard when we feel we have so many responsibilities, but you have to allow yourself room to breathe.

Use down time wisely.

Find yourself with an afternoon or evening without anything planned?  Turn off the television or fight the urge to catch up on Facebook and DO something.  Take a walk.  Dust off your tennis racket.  Cook that recipe you pinned two months ago but never have time to fix.  Light a campfire and roast marshmallows.  You're likely to find yourself saying, "I should make time for this more often."

Life is lived offline.  

We are so connected that we forget how we managed before automatic score updates and instant text messages.  Don't turn off your phone--because what if there really is an emergency?  But don't let your device steal your time.  One "Let me check this real quick," leads to another and real life opportunities are missed--chances for real conversation or realizing you've been dealt a winning hand.

Don't ignore the future, but live in the present.

True, there are only 19 Saturdays before Santa Claus arrives, but that's no reason to forget about Labor Day, Fall Festival, Halloween, Veteran's Day and Thanksgiving.  There's something to be said about being prepared, but when we focus on one thing, it's easy to overlook everything else.  Don't be the person always asking "When did that happen?" because you are too distracted by something that's not relevant.  Yet.

take a hike: Devil's Den (the conclusion)

And then the thunder began to rumble.  I'm staring at the sky through our mesh, rain-fly missing tent and realize we have managed to pitch our tent under a tree with no leaves.  Roo suggests we move further into the woods for more cover and further away from the river.  Just the week prior, several campers were killed in Arkansas when a river flooded and swept them away during the night.  As if just getting wet wasn't enough to worry about.
So we relocate further away from the water than Brent and Kristy.  If they yell, that will be a warning to jump and run.  I take the footprint tarp off the bottom of the tent and we try to make a makeshift cover.  It's too small to protect the entire tent, but at least it covers our heads to keep the rain from falling in our faces.  With everything else securely packed in our waterproof backpacks, we climb back inside our tent in time for the rain to begin falling softly.
At first it's a gentle rain.  The mist hitting the sides of the tent actually felt kind of nice in the hot, sticky air.  I was feeling quite comfortable and optimistic, especially when I could hear Brent complaining about how hot and miserable it was in their enclosed tent.  The nature of a rain fly is to obviously block rain.  Unfortunately for the Kotschedoffs, it also blocks any breeze.
Just as I'm thinking this isn't so bad and I might be able to doze off, it starts to rain a little harder.  The lightning strikes and it thunders a little louder.  And it rains a little harder.  Then the wind picks up.  And it rains a little harder.  The makeshift rain fly is now doing no good since the rain is coming in from all sides and soaking us.  We're feeling pretty miserable when WHOOSH!!!  The tree branch to which the overhead tarp was attached gives way and it's a waterfall right in our face. We jump out and try to re-position our rain cover the best we can, but it is raining so hard now that we know it doesn't really matter.  Surely it can't last long.
Wrong.
Hours later, it's still raining and the wind is still blowing.  Roo and I are snuggled together as close as possible, shivering under our soaking wet sarongs we brought for covers.  Were we really complaining about the heat earlier?  Sleep is impossible.  My eyes are only shut to keep out the rain.  I'm alternately praying and cursing the Kotschedoffs for not inviting us to join them in their dry, cozy tent.  Irrational thought, I know, since our two-man tents are barely large enough for two people, but not a lot of rational thoughts are going through my mind right now.  I'm cold, I'm wet, I'm exhausted, and I can't help but imagine the river rising and sweeping us away.  Roo bravely offers to go search for a cave or some more substantial shelter, but it's pitch dark and we don't know what's in these woods let alone what might be in any cave.  Aren't there bears around here?  I wonder how long it would take us to hike back to the car.  And the rain fly.  Why oh why did Roo not pack the rain fly?  I can't be mad at him, though.  I knew he took it out and I could have just as easily thrown it in my own pack.  But really, maybe he should run back to the car and get it.  It's just 16 miles round trip.  But we decide to wait it out.  Surely it can't last much longer.
Wrong.
All this rain makes me have to pee.  I sit up and discover that my air mattress is actually floating in the tent! When I return, Roo and I pick up our tent and dump out about 100 gallons of water.  Futile effort since it's still raining, but I'm already convinced I have hypothermia and I would rather not drown in my own tent.
I lay back and catch a glimpse of my dry socks in the net at the top of the tent.  At least something was protected by the tarp.  I am so wet and so cold and so tired, I think if I could just get my feet warm, I might be able to get five minutes of sleep.  I slowly begin to reach up toward my socks when a voice sternly says, "Don't do it."
"But my feet are so cold!"
"Do you have any other dry socks?" Roo asks.  "Do you really want to hike eight miles out in wet socks?"
He's right.  And that's when I begin to cry.
I must be able to drift off for a few minutes, because when I next open my eyes it's just beginning to turn light and the rain seems to be subsiding.  I quickly escape the tent and rush to see how high the stream has risen.  I'm astonished.  Not an inch!  How could the monsoon have had no impact?  I see fog rising from the water and it looks like steam, so I gingerly test the water temperature with my toes and it's warm!  Warmer than my body temp anyway, so I jump in.  Not like I can get any wetter than I already am.  I shout for Roo to come join me.  All my rejoicing seems to have roused the Kotschedoffs and they emerge from their tent soaked as well--from sweat.

Looks cozy, huh?

None of us slept very well and we're all eager to get back to the car.  Roo and I change into dry clothes (yippee!!) and wring the water out of tent the best we can and repack our packs.  Wet gear weighs at least twice as much, so our packs are that much heavier.  We camped at the midway point of the trail loop and Brent suggests hiking back the way we came in.  Since it was all uphill on the way here, it must be all downhill back to the car.
Never trust Brent.
I'm not sure how a trail can be uphill both ways, but it was.  And the morning heated up quickly.  As the sun came out, steam began rising off our wet packs.  Another downside of rain is that when it mixes with dirt on a trail, it makes mud, which is really not fun to hike in.  It was shaping up to be a really great day.
We hadn't gone very far at all before we noticed the trail was actually fairly dry.  Strange, but we weren't about to complain.  Aside from being more uphill than we remembered and the weight from our wet gear, the hike out wasn't terrible and before too long we had made it back to our raspberry bush.  Just beyond our rest stop the trail intersected the road back to the park.  After not much deliberation, the boys decided to leave their packs with Kristy and I and jog back to get the car and come pick us up.  We made good use of our time picking wild raspberries and had nearly a quart-size baggie each by the time the boys showed back up.  We loaded up the gear and headed back to the campground--the real one--in search of showers.
All clean and reclined in the backseat, I'm pretty sure I was snoozing before we made it out of the parking lot.  But my ice cream radar picked up the mention of Sonic near Fayetteville.  In honor of our survival and return to civilization, Sonic's milkshakes were half off.  We might have made two or three more shake stops on the route home.  I lost track.
Just for fun, Brent checked the radar from the previous night, to see how widespread that storm was.  Somehow, the only blip on the radar was right over us.  That explained the steady river and dry trail.  I don't know if God was just messing with us or trying to teach us, but we definitely came away from that memorable weekend with a few life lessons--never trust Brent and always ALWAYS pack the rain fly.

take a hike: Devil's Den (part 1)

Well, it's that time of year again and Memorial Day weekend is upon us.  It stands for several things, not the least of which is the kick off to camping season.  I could--and maybe someday I will--write an entire book on my adventures in camping.  Some good, some bad, some I'd really rather forget.  One of the best, I mean worst, or at least one of the most memorable was the weekend of our fourth wedding anniversary.
Roo and I decided to celebrate with a romantic trek through the woods on our first overnight hiking adventure.  We invited the Kotschedoffs along as our guides and set off for Devil's Den State Park in Winslow, Arkansas.  (A little foreshadowing here--I now know where the park gets it's name.)
We set off after work on Friday, intending to camp at the car the first night, then backpack in and camp on the trail the second night before hiking back out on day three.  Since it was sort of a last-minute trip and our first backpack/hiking adventure, we didn't bother to reserve a campsite for the first night.  Upon arrival, we found the ranger station dark and empty.  While trying to decide what to do, a car came screeching into the parking lot and a woman jumped out frantically screaming, "My son is missing!"  A ranger appeared and calmed her down.  Apparently the son had been hiking and didn't check in, she thought he was lost, but I'm pretty sure they located him.  I think.  That should have been our first clue.  After that issue was dealt with, we inquired as to a place to pitch our tent since the campground was full.  The ranger directed us to follow the highway out of the park where we would find two pull-off campsites along the road that would be suitable for our stay.
Well, the "highway" turned into a gravel road just outside the park.  And the "campsites" were dirt paths where people just parked in the woods.  Creepy!  We pulled off at the first one and didn't bother to stop the car.  The second pull-off was less populated and a little less Deliverance, so we parked in the woods for the night, probably illegally trespassing on someone's private property.  Brent and Kristy pitched a tent while Roo and I took the back of the Element.  And since I was the only one hungry for dinner, I settled for a feast of beef jerky and gummy worms.
We woke up fairly early the next day because we wanted to grab breakfast at the park's restaurant before hitting the trail.  You know, get one last good meal in before busting out the trail food.  So we packed our packs and headed back to the main campground.  After consulting the weather forecast and seeing zero percent chance of rain, Roo decided to save eight ounces of weight and leave the tent's rain fly in the car.
We found the cafe, but were thirty minutes early for opening.  We used the time to explore a little bit.  The historic state park was built in the 1930s by the Civilian Conservation Corps--the "Tree Army" of Franklin D. Roosevelt's New Deal.  There is a beautiful lake, campground, rustic facilities, and numerous trails to explore.  There are at least four caves in the park as well, but last I checked they were still closed to the public to prevent White-nose syndrome in the bats.

We took a few pictures by the rock dam that forms Lake Devil and made friends with a few armadillos before being treated to the best microwavable breakfast the cafe had to offer.  Don't go expecting anything gourmet here.  Then it was off to the ranger station for our backpacking permit and a-hiking we went.
Brent started out as our navigator.  We fired him after we took a wrong turn and ended up back at the trailhead.  (I know, those colored arrows are hard to follow.)  It got hot quick and two miles into our eight-mile (well--now nine-mile hike if you include our detour), I for one was ready to find a swimming hole.  Instead we found a wild raspberry bush.  While taking a break to pick and eat berries, a fellow hiker and his two kids told us a little of what to expect in our overnight accommodations.  The designated backpack camping sites are located on the bank of a stream.  The tent sites are pretty level with fire pits and there is a boulder in the middle of the stream--perfect for climbing and jumping into the water.  That sounded UH-MAY-ZING right about then.  We picked up the pace with a renewed bounce in our step, only stopping for lunch at the coolest pile of boulders that formed a sort of cave structure.  A few miles more brought us to our evening's destination.  It was indeed the oasis our trail friends had described.
It was roughly 4 p.m., the hottest part of the day, and the cool clear stream was calling our name.  We hurriedly pitched our tents and changed into swimsuits.
Aaaaahhhhhh!!!!  The water felt fabulous.  Did I mention it was the hottest day of the summer thus far?  The first day that year to reach triple digits.  Perfect weather for toting a 50-pound pack eight miles just for fun.
So we swam, we explored the stream, I scurried back to the boulder when I saw a snake, and we sunbathed.  Sun-napped was more like it.  And we spread our towels out on the boulder and played cards.  After the tenth or so hand of pinochle, I glanced up at the sky and asked, "Do those look like rain clouds to anyone else?"  Oh, no, they assured me.  There is a zero percent chance of rain.  Don't you worry about that.
It was too hot to even think about building a fire, so instead we fired up the Jet Boil and had a fine package of freeze-dried lasagna for dinner.  It actually tasted pretty good.  And after a long day of hiking we were all exhausted and retired to our tents before it was totally dark.  Not long after, we heard a group of four-wheelers approach the stream from the opposite bank.  We didn't get out to investigate, but the people sounded friendly enough.  I could hear them splashing around and talking from what I assumed was the boulder.  I wasn't worried until I heard one person say to the rest of the group, "We probably better head out before the rain opens up on us."
And then the thunder began to rumble...
(To be continued.)

Mayday May Day

The end of April is fast approaching and I for one am pretty excited.  April was a pretty good month for the Ebbrecht family, but there are several things I am greatly looking forward to in May.  Warmer weather is at the top of the list, especially with a baby who loves to be outside.  What else is there to be excited about?  Well, since you asked, here are my top five reasons to celebrate next month...in order of occurrence.

1. The 140th Kentucky Derby.  The Greatest Two Minutes in Sports will take place Saturday, May 3. Hats, horses and hopefully warm weather...what other excuses do you need to throw a lawn party?  This year my money (if I were a betting girl) is on Wicked Strong.  He's No.4 in Derby points and as his name alludes, he will be racing for The One Fund Boston, which supports those affected by the 2013 Boston Marathon bombings.
2. Rock N Ribs.  Mmmmmm I do love good barbecue and this year I'm pleased to announce that Roo will be cooking up and competing with his finger lickin' good Roo-B-Q.  The two day festival of meat is May 9-10 at the Ozark Empire Fairgrounds.  Come out and sample barbecue from 77 vendors and vote for the best...ahem...Roo-B-Q, of course.
3. Mother's Day.  Call up the florist, paint a piece of pottery, or hit up the nearest Hallmark but DO NOT FORGET to let your mom know just how awesome she is on Sunday, May 11.  After all, this is the one holiday we mothers had to earn.  Taylor cheated and gave me my gift early (kudos to Dad for helping her pick out the fab golf clubs), but that does not excuse her from showering me with adoration on the big day.
4.Taylor's first birthday.  Wow, it seems unbelievable that my baby is going to be a year old on May 20.  This has been the craziest, stressful, emotional yet rewarding year.  Having a baby is hard work, thus all the more reason to celebrate the previous item on the list.  I can't believe how much Taylor has grown in the last 11 months and I know the next month is going to fly by.  She is becoming quite the little girl and I'm looking forward to celebrating the day God gave us such a special little princess.
5. Memorial Day.  With such a crazy May schedule, I am looking forward to the kickoff of Lake Season even more than usual this year.  By then I will be more than ready for a weekend of relaxation and s'more roasting.  Although, with a one-year-old, not sure really how relaxing it's going to be.  But there will be s'mores.  And the Aqua Lily Pad will make it's lake debut.  If you need me, I'll be floating in the cove.  Or chasing Taylor.  Or hopefully roasting s'mores.
Whew!  And then it's on to June...

chetzels

So I just read a blog post in which the author claimed to have only missed one semi weekly post since the beginning of his blog over a year ago.  Since the beginning of my blog, I have missed...okay, who's keeping track really?  I'm averaging one post per week--ish, so we'll go with that.  Anyhow...

It's baseball season!  Even if you're not a sports fan, there is still reason to celebrate--chetzel dogs at Hammons Field!  A frankfurter served on a warm soft pretzel bun and covered in nacho cheese.  It's my favorite stadium food item and the best reason I can think of to go to a Springfield Cardinals' baseball game.  For years I had to wait until opening day to get my chetzel fix and not-so-silently wondered, why is nobody else figuring out that everything is better served on a pretzel?
Then finally, Sonic heard me.  Last spring the drive-in introduced their line of pretzel dogs--plain with mustard or topped with cheddar cheese, bacon and sauteed onions.  What was a girl to do except have a chetzel dog taste off?  Let me tell ya, not disappointed.  Hammons' chetzel was bigger, I prefer it's nacho sauce and eating it means your at a baseball game.  However, Sonic's dog was cheaper, more readily available and I loved the added flavor kick of the bacon and onions.  (Chetzel tip--avoid the plain with mustard.  It will only make you wish you had picked the cheddar, bacon, onion dog.)
After Sonic's pretzel success, numerous other fast food chains jumped on the pretzel bun train.  Wendy's pretzel bacon cheeseburger was a winner and their encore performance with a crispy chicken pretzel sandwich was equally thrilling. Then Chili's introduced two sandwiches to their lunch combo menu--I prefer the BLT to the chicken avocado.  And now you can even buy pretzel buns in the grocery store and create your own chetzel dog, chetzel burger, or chetzel whatever at home.
Just when I thought I was in chetzel heaven, Wendy's went and discontinued their pretzel bun menu.  What?!?  Don't tell me the pretzel craze was just a fad!!
Have no fear.  Wendy's may be out, but Steak and Shake has more than made up for it.  They have created the greatest pretzel burger (if not THE greatest burger period) in the history of burgers.  The pepperoni pizza burger.  Two beef patties smothered in marinara sauce and covered in melted mozzarella and provelone cheese, topped with pepperoni and served on a buttered and lightly garlic salted pretzel bun.  Delicious.  I recommend splurging the 29 cents and adding Parmesan garlic seasoning to your fries and of course complementing it with a chocolate milk shake.

I heard from an inside source that the pepperoni pizza burger may be available for a limited time only, so grab one while you can and do your part to keep it on the menu!  And let me know if there are any other chetzels out there I need to try.

party animals

One month and 13 days until my baby turns one.  Wow.  The time goes so fast and as the minutes until her birthday tick away, the clock seems to be speeding up.  I really am excited to celebrate this milestone, it's the party planning that makes me nervous.
This weekend I had the pleasure of attending birthday parties for two of my cousins.  First up was Sophia's fourth birthday--a swim party.  What kid doesn't like pizza, presents and pool time?  Taylor clearly enjoyed herself.  The Cinderella theme was cute--especially with Sophia and sister Ella sporting matching Disney dresses.  The Cinderella and Prince Charming wedding cake knock off was both gorgeous and delicious.  Crisis averted when Steven took off work early to track down a stand in baker when the first choice developed kidney stones and canceled last minute.  And props to Mindy for booking a pool with a hot tub so the adults could enjoy splash time as well.  Although, it's frowned upon to leave your baby unattended, so this mama stayed in the kiddie pool.

Then we headed over to Ruthie's second birthday circus extravaganza--a big time celebration for several reasons.  While it was Ruthie's second birthday, it was her first official birthday party.  After being born premature, Ruthie spent several weeks in the hospital and has been quarantined for most of the last two years while her lungs developed.  A true miracle child.  Her parents went all out, turning the house into the Big Top and serving circus favorites: chili dogs, nachos, popcorn, peanuts and of course, cotton candy.  The real stars of the show were Ringmaster Ruthie and her performing pups.  Book them now for your next party.
In the last several months, we've also attended an indoor snow party fit for a princess, my nephew's first birthday Mickey Mouse celebration, a backyard circus bash and a Minnie Mouse party with the most adorable cupcakes to name a few.
As a parent, you always feel pressure to throw the biggest and best party for your own kid.  As my Pinterest board grows, I'm trying to reign myself in and not go too overboard.  I have to remind myself that a first birthday is really all for the parents.  I'll save the "overboard" for when Taylor is old enough to enjoy it.

product endorsement: The Magic Bullet

I love to cook and I'm always on the lookout for gadgets and gizmos that will make life in the kitchen easier or just downright more fun.  So, for my birthday I asked for the Magic Bullet.  I know it's not a new product, but my love of milkshakes was hardly enough reason to bite the bullet and buy one.  However, intending to make homemade baby food for Taylor was a perfect excuse.
The Bullet is in fact a perfect tool for pureeing vegetables.  But, as it turns out, our daughter is too independent to be fed anything on a spoon, insisting on feeding herself finger foods from the get-go, so then I was back to owning a fancy 21-piece personal milkshake maker.  Just in time for eggnog shake season, I might add.
It was Roo who actually discovered the value of the Bullet for the Ebbrechts.  Our mornings can be pretty crazy some days, especially during Obamacare crunch time.  Roo is usually up and ready to head to the office before I can manage to lift my head off the pillow.  Granted, getting myself out of bed at a reasonable time has been easier this past week with Taylor actually sleeping through the night, but I've learned not to get too comfortable with that schedule.
So, all that to say, Roo started requesting smoothies for breakfast.  Brilliant!  Isn't that what's advertised on the front of the Magic Bullet box anyway?  Throw in a banana, a handful of strawberries and a dash of milk then 10 seconds later Roo is out the door with a good chunk of his daily allowance of fruit and dairy.  The advantage of the Bullet over a conventional blender is that the smoothie (or milkshake or frozen coffee concoction) is mixed up in the mug you'll drink it out of.  Use the handy lid/straw combo and you're good to go.  Measuring ingredients has never been easier and no extra dishes to clean!
But wait, there's more!  Beyond smoothies (or milkshakes or frozen coffee concoctions), our next favorite thing to use the Bullet for is homemade sauces.  Our personal favorite--ginger sauce reminiscent of Nakato Japanese Steakhouse.  Just throw in the ingredients and pulse it together.  No chopping onions, or finely mincing the ginger for this one.  So easy it saved my family from frozen pizza last night.
I could go on and on about how the personal blender takes up so little space on your counter, all the many accessories included in the box and not to mention the great ideas in the owner's manual/recipe book (cheesecake, what??), but you can get all that from the infomercial.  If you're into making single servings of frozen beverages or sauces, I highly recommend you pick one of these up.

Happy Colic Awareness Month!

Today is the last day of Colic Awareness Month.  How are you going to celebrate?  I for one, will be giving thanks that my baby has been colic free for nearly four months.  

Taylor is such a fun girl.  She laughs, she sings, she entertains herself, and she cries--but only occasionally.  I get asked a lot, "Wow, what a happy baby!  Is she always this good?"  Which I get to answer, "Yes!" But, this was not always the case.

Our first days as a family spent in the serene hospital room were so encouraging.  Taylor Rose was a beautiful bundle of joy who loved to snuggle.  Her sleeping patterns allowed me to catch up on some much-needed rest and her vigorous appetite brought tears to the eyes of the lactation consultant.  Roo and I headed home with high hopes and settled in with our newest addition.  It seemed we had this parenting thing figured out.  In fact, the first few weeks almost seemed a little TOO easy.  Should have known better.

At right about the two week mark, Taylor realized she was in the real world and was not at all happy about it.  We would have about half an hour of happy baby in the morning, and then like someone flipped the switch, she would cry for almost the entire remainder of the day.  We attempted our first restaurant outing for a friend's birthday and we officially became "those parents"--you know the ones with the crying kid who everyone secretly (or not so secretly) wishes would have just stayed at home.

To be fair, it wasn't non-stop crying all day.  She was sometimes content as long as you were up and moving, bouncing, and running the vacuum.  Our carpet has never been so clean.  Consoling Taylor was such a challenge that I often felt guilty leaving her in someone else's care because I felt I understood her best, even though I had no idea what I was doing.  

After about 12 weeks, Taylor's crying sessions seemed to diminish from all day to only two or three hours.  The good news was she mostly only fussy in the evenings.  The bad news, I was now back at work full time and mostly only got to see her in the evenings.  

Then one night, when Taylor was about six months old, we took her to her first high school basketball game.  It was magical.  She contentedly sat still on Roo's lap for the entire game.  It was a major turning point in her babyhood.  She still had fussy days, but from then on they were outnumbered by happy days.

At the time, I didn't want to label Taylor as a colicky baby, because that meant there was nothing I could do to fix it.  Through that entire time, I felt like I was just on the verge of figuring out how to, in the words of my neice, "make her happy, make her happy," and calling it colic felt like giving up.

There is no clear definition of colic and there are countless theories on what causes it.  From my research, most people agree that if your baby cries for no apparent reason three or more hours a day, for three or more days a week, for three weeks or more then you are probably dealing with colic, whatever that means.  It usually begins around two weeks, peaks at six weeks, and diminishes around 12 weeks but can last until six months or later.  Lucky us.  All I know is that it can be frustrating, heartbreaking, and exhausting, especially when you see parents with content babies.  

There is, however, one huge benefit of colic...it makes those smiles and bouts of baby laughter all the more rewarding.  After struggling to console Taylor for hours on end, one little toothless grin would melt my heart and make it all worthwhile.  Not to mention, all that carrying and bouncing kept my arms looking super toned.

So yes, I will finally admit that my baby had colic.  That doesn't make me a bad mother, but has in fact made Roo and I stronger parents.  Colic has taught us lessons in patience, keeping calm and unconditional love.  Having survived colic has made us appreciate even more the happy Taylor we have today.  Yes, she still fusses occasionally and never hesitates to let us know when she's unhappy, but she is consolable and there are very few issues a Cheerio can't solve.

If you're dealing with colic, I'm sorry to say there is no cure.  What soothes Baby one day might make it worse the next.  However, speaking from experience, it does get better.  One day, hopefully soon, you'll be able to look back with a sigh of relief and think that wasn't so bad.  In the meantime, focus on the happy moments, seek advice and tips from parents who have dealt with colic and know that this too shall pass.  Keep calm and carry on.

isn't it grand?

I am blessed to have known all four of my grandparents and to have had a close relationship with each.  It helps that I grew up in a small town, just a few miles from both of their houses.  Every Sunday we alternated dinner at their tables and I spent many childhood hours playing and exploring in their backyards with my siblings and cousins.  Their influence in my life has a lot to do with the person I am today.
Gramps was an adventurer and a storyteller.  The most prominent images I have are of him sitting at the head of the kitchen table sharing tales of hunting camp until he laughed so hard he cried.  He taught me how to shoot a gun and how to ride a horse.  He always encouraged us to go outside and get dirty.  It's probably for the best that he didn't live long enough to see kids playing with iPads instead of in mud puddles.
Meme was the hardest working lady with the kindest heart I've ever known.  Her hands were always busy doing something for someone else.  She was a cook and a gardener, a seamstress and a farmer.  She made the best cinnamon rolls, grew the prettiest tomatoes, and her sewing machine could create something out of nothing.  Meme loved her cows and chickens and protected them fearlessly.  I'll never forget the time I saw her whip a giant black snake out of the barn with her bare hands.

Grandpa was a creative genius and problem solver.  He built an irrigation system to make his garden thrive in the heat of summer.  His tractor was a shuttle to pull his grandkids to the top of the snowy sledding hill, which became a driving range for our family of golfers in the off season.  Branson entertainers were inspired by his musical ability and Grandpa's songwriting made me Santa's sweetheart.  His uncanny talent as an electrician made him an invaluable consultant for an unnamed magician.  His workshop was a treasure trove of repurposed items used to make whatever you needed a little better and most certainly one of a kind.
Grandma was a woman of wit and encouragement and to her I owe my love of sports.  After Sunday dinner, Grandma and I would watch tennis on TV while listening to the Cardinals on the radio.  She was an equal opportunity sports lover and followed everything--football, golf, basketball and especially St. Louis baseball.  Like I said earlier, she could watch one sport, listen to another and be able to tell you exactly what was going on in either game.  She was a St. Louis football fan until the Cardinals left for Arizona.  Grandma said after that she could never be a fan of another Missouri football team, so it's her fault I cheer for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.
Beyond my genetic grandparents, I also had the pleasure of being granddaughter-in-law to the Coughennowers--two of the most genuinely nice people I've ever known.  Together they were charming and hospitable, welcoming me into their family with open arms.  It's hard to picture one without the other, because they were a perfect pair.  Since Grandma Coughennower passed away in November, Grandpa C. is my sole surviving grandparent.  You're likely to find him traveling between Iowa and Texas, playing games or watching college sports.  I would like to hear his thoughts on Iowa State in the NCAA Sweet 16.
I could go on and on about the role each grandparent played in shaping my character.  And yesterday, at the funeral of a best friend's grandpa, I was reminded of all the many other grandparents who have touched my life in some way.  Chaperones, cheerleaders, mentors, friends.  All have changed my life for the better.
But perhaps the greatest legacy they all leave behind is their fierce love of God and family.  Ask any of their grandchildren and they're likely to tell you that they are the favorite.  And that's saying a lot because there are more than quite a few of us Bass and Rose kids.  We all have different memories, or the same memories from different perspectives.  They loved us each uniquely and took seriously their role of grandparent.  I learned a lot of valuable life lessons from each of my grandparents and my only regret is that most of them won't have the ability to personally impact my children's lives the way they did mine. 
It's now my responsibility to make sure they continue to live on in the memories and stories I pass on to the next generation.  My kids can't know them personally, but they can know what awesome people they come from.

new post schedule

I apologize to anyone expecting a new post yesterday...or today.  Starting tomorrow I will update my blog twice per week on Mondays and Thursdays, rain or shine.  See you in 24 hours!

pick your team

So we're walking through the mall when my mom spots this sweatshirt with a cute bird on it.  On closer inspection, it's kind of a strange feathered foul with it's red head, bright blue wings and large beak curled into a cocky grin.  And what kind of a bird wears buckled shoes anyway?  But it's on sale, is my brother's size and it says "Kansas" across the front--my dad's home state.  My dad will be so proud, right?
Welllll.....
My brother is wearing his new collegiate apparel when my dad gets home from work and nearly has a heart attack when he walks through the front door.
My dad is indeed from the state of Kansas, but was born into an allegiance to Kansas State.  My great-great grandpa was an instructor in electrical engineering at the university, although he himself had only a third grade education.  Perhaps the most important lesson he ever taught, however, is that wildcats hate that little bird.  Unfortunately my mom was the last one to find out.
Despite protests from my dad, Wesley wore his sweatshirt with pride to my grandpa's house and nearly got himself written out of the will.  My brother became a fan for life and Sunday dinners were never the same.
March Madness brought out the best in their rivalry and I'm reminded of it again as I fill out my championship bracket.  Can K State beat Kentucky then hand the Shockers their first loss of the season?  Not likely.  Which means I hope my grandpa isn't looking down from heaven to see which two teams from the Sunflower State I have playing in the final four.

spring fever

Winter is the best season.  Cold, crisp air.  Frost blanketing the front lawn.  Football.  Wearing sweaters and snowboarding when you get the chance.  And it really does not get any better than curling up in front of the fireplace in a cozy quilt with a cup of hot cocoa watching It's a Wonderful Life with snow swirling outside the window.
At least that's what I say around Novemberish.  Now I'm ready to ditch the snow boots for sandals.  Ready to air up my bike tires, plant the garden, throw something on the grill.  I'm excited to sit in the turkey blind, fill out my March Madness bracket, pick out an Easter dress.
We're still nine days away from the official kickoff to the warmer seasons, but I have already eaten a Cadbury Crème Egg.  The garden seeds are planted and germinating in the kitchen window.  Sports Illustrated has moved on to Spring Training (and swimsuits).  The fishing boat is de-winterized and ready for its inaugural trip to the lake.  Perhaps spring is the best season.
And then comes summer.
And then it's time for fall.
One of my favorite things about living in Missouri is experiencing all four seasons.  I love the changes in weather and changes in activity that come every four months, more or less.  And each season helps me appreciate the others.  Would I enjoy the snow so much if I didn't experience 90 degree heat in the summer?  Would it be as exciting to watch the leaves bud and turn green in the spring if I hadn't watched them turn brown in the fall?
Embrace the change, but enjoy the moment.  Don't get so caught up wishing for the next thing that you miss the good in here and now.  When you find yourself grumbling because there is snow in the forecast, AGAIN, mentally fast forward to those days ahead when you're baking in the heat of summer, begging for a sno cone.
We have come to the part of the post where I could go all philosophical on you and start comparing the seasons of year to the seasons of life.  Instead I'll let you draw your own conclusions.  I have a fishing trip to get ready for.

it's game time

I'm a competitive person.  I like to be good at something, I get excited when I win, and most of all I hate to lose.  At anything.
During these cold and snowy months, most of our outdoor hobbies hibernate and Roo and I spend our social time playing games indoors--card games, board games, a video game (Shrek Super Party--the only reason we own an Xbox).  And did I mention I hate to lose?  Ask my husband, any family member or friend and they can vouch for that fact.  I also don't give up easily.  If at first I don't succeed, we will play another hand, another round or one more tournament until Shelley is the winner.  Or until Roo threatens to go home without me.  It's a good thing my mom and I won the first game of pinochle last night so Taylor could get to bed on time.
I'm not a very good loser, either.  With every point I fall behind, I tend to get a little grouchier and sometimes downright mean.  It really is a wonder anyone plays with me at all.  Sometimes Roo lets me win and I pretend I don't know so we can all go home happy.
That's why our pastor's sermon on "Taming the Beast" really hit home with me.  Troy said one way to battle envy is to celebrate others.  I hate to lose because I love to win.  I am envious when the other team lays down a double pinochle while we go set yet again.  Perhaps if I spend more time celebrating others' victories and less time dwelling on my own defeat, we can all have more fun.
Not that being competitive is bad or keeping score is wrong.  It drives me to keep improving and to strive for my best.  Winning builds confidence and losing (should) teach us to be gracious.  It's not wrong to dance when I win, but I shouldn't rain on another's victory parade when I lose.
Oh, we still have to play until I win, but my goal is to pout less and toast my hot chocolate to you when I lose.
So, who's up for another game?

a glimpse of me

I have curly hair.  Sometimes it's pretty ringlets that fall perfectly in place.  Sometimes it's frizzy strands that refuse to stay in a pony tail no matter how many bobby pins I use.  Sometimes it's poofy here while flat there. And sometimes there are curls that decide to go straight for the day.  Usually when I look in the mirror it never looks how it did when I left the house and sometimes it's best to just wear a hat.  It's never the same every day and that's the exciting thing about having curly hair.
A person once told me that it takes a special personality to pull off hair like mine.  I'm not really sure if that was a compliment--to my hair or my personality.  Then she said she might shave off my hair in the middle of the night.  Once again--not sure if she wanted to steal it or destroy it.  Either way, I didn't sleep well for the rest of the week.
What I hope she meant, and how I try to live, is to never be boring.  God gave us the whole earth and my intention is to see and experience as much of it as possible while I'm here.  There is way too much to do in our short life span to be bored.  You don't have to be a world traveler to be an adventurer.  Don't get me wrong, I do love to travel, but there are ways to experience more of the world even in your own slice of earth.  Read a new book, try a new recipe, walk a new trail through the woods.  Take risks then use your experiences to encourage others.
I'm a mother of a nine-month-old daughter and every time I strap her into her car seat I ask her if she's ready for an adventure.  She is learning at a young age that life should never be boring.  Her hair isn't curly (yet), but it is red.  We're a couple of crazy-haired girls with personalities to match.  Daddy, and the rest of the world, watch out!

That is my intention for this blog.  To chronicle my adventures and encourage others to participate in their own actions of uncertain outcome.  Stay tuned for tales of motherhood, travel, cooking, nature, sports, and whatever other trouble I can get into.