Bah! I'm seconds away from lighting the tree on fire!

   We got our Christmas tree yesterday. Inez took us with my little brother Charlie, and it was really fun. We went to lunch and she even helped us get the tree up and in the base before she left. It's only a 6', but it's really full and fat, with no holes or anything. It's freaking heavy. Last night Brandon got the base on, but the tree was really crooked. This morning Cooper decided to run past it, pushing against it for momentum as he bolted past, and just then it finally decided to topple and almost crush my little boy. He was terrified. My floor was covered in pine-scented sugar water, a couple branches broke revealing gaps through which you can now see the trunk, and I could barely lift the damn thing back up, and readjust the base to make it more balanced.

   When Cooper felled the mighty tree, destroying some of our very small number of ornaments, the water shorted out the brand new Christmas lights we got yesterday, which I had painstakingly swapped the bulbs out of for alternating colors of green and gold, tearing up my fingers in the process. Half of each strand now doesn't work, even after replacing all the dead bulbs. On top of the lights dying out, I can't seem to get Cooper to leave the ornaments alone. Thankfully they are shatterproof. Unfortunately some of them are pretty small, and over half of the ornaments have disappeared since last night. I am on the verge of scrapping the whole tree, drawing a big paper one to hang on the wall, and calling it good.

   I might just light the damn thing on fire. For all the money we're going to spend to replace the broken lights and ornaments, we may was well buy a pre-lit fake tree. I'll just desperately miss that pine smell and fullness of the real branches.

   I know it seems silly to care so much about a tree. Christmas isn't about the tree or decorations or gifts or even the food. Still, it's our first Christmas with Cooper in our own home, the first he can actively participate in, and his last as an only child. I so desperately want to make it special and perfect for him, so we have those memories forever. I also know he's too small to remember, but we're going to take pictures and have keepsakes and basically I'm going crazy, hormone induced emotional, sentimental momma.

   I think what needs to happen now, is we need to wait for Brandon to get home, figure out what we're going to do about the lights, and run to the store for laundry detergent so I can wash clothes tonight. I need to leave the tree alone for a while, take a deep breath, and try my best to forget about how frustrated I am and focus on the good things about the day. My baby is awesome, our bills are almost caught up, I'm getting ready to go back to school, and we have Netflix again, so we can watch the Doctor before bed every night. My life is pretty kick ass.

Falling so far behind!

Lately I've been dealing with some crud and it's sapped a lot of my energy. Couple that with Cooper skipping naps all week, and I'm burnt. I'm falling so far behind, and desperately need to get caught up. My house is a wreck right now. I'm getting really sick, so Cooper and I have spent the last two days on the couch, eating English muffins with jelly and watching movies. I did some laundry yesterday, and made a big pot of soup for dinner, but I feel like I could sleep for the next 2 days and still be tired.

I wish I still lived close to Morgan. I used to help her clean her house and drop in to fix dinner from time to time, and eat with their family. It was good for Cooper to get that kind of interaction, and we didn't mind helping out. And when I was overwhelmed or sick, she would do the same. I'm closer to her than any of my sisters, and it's hard living so far away from her without a vehicle. Her car was totaled over a year ago, so she has to rely on using her dad or brother's car to come over, and they aren't available often. I guess I'm just missing having a support system living here.

I am literally embarrassed to have people in my house right now. Cooper's toys are everywhere, and the counter is cluttered with dirty dishes. I can't wait for Brandon to get home so I can take a long shower and do a few loads of dishes. We're going to clean this weekend. Deep clean. Brandon is going to hate it, but I need some help these days. It's only for a little while, and then I'll be back to myself.

I've got dinner on the stove now. I took a break from writing to do a load of dishes and start cooking. Tomorrow is payday, so I'm hoping we can order some pizza or get some burgers or something. I'm craving red meat so badly right now. Burgers would be perfect. Ooh... and fries. I want the largest fry I can get. I want to dip them in a chocolate shake.

It's been a long time since we've had a little wiggle room with our money, and I don't want to do anything drastic, as far as splurging goes, but I would like to have fast food or pizza for dinner one night. Something we don't get often. I'm a big foodie, and between Brandon and I, we always eat great food, and most of our friends eat at our house every chance they get, but sometimes a girl needs something greasy and gross and deep fried.

Cooper has been eating peach oatmeal for snacks, and we've gone through 5 dozen eggs in a month. I love eggs. I can't wait to get groceries so I can make devilled eggs. SOOOO yummy.

Let's look into how we can make this the best holiday season ever!

   It already started off on a positive. Thanksgiving was awesome. We went to my mom's, and this is the first year since I was pregnant with Cooper that no one was uncomfortable. When we go to my dad's, Brandon has never really felt welcome, so he doesn't go over there anymore. He and my dad and stepmother just don't see eye to eye. It's the same with Brandon's family and I. We have a pretty intense history. I'm pretty content with where we're at right now. I have no contact with them, and then no one is uncomfortable. They see Cooper when Brandon is in town, and that's a good thing, because even though I don't want to immerse myself in their lives anymore, they are really good to Cooper, and I'm glad Brandon didn't write them off and walk away from them just because I have differences with them that have proven to be irreconcilable.
   I feel like my family is in a really good place right now in general. Brandon has been working really hard, and found a job he enjoys and is good at. He doesn't love it every day, but most days he comes home in a good mood and tells me about all the stuff he enjoyed about his day and things that made him laugh. It's hard for him to be away from Cooper after being the stay-at-home parent since Cooper was 3 months old, but he feels good finally being able to provide financially. I'm proud of him. As for being a stay-at-home mom, it's an adjustment, but Cooper and I are doing awesome together during the day. I love being the parent at home. It's hard work, harder than any job I've had, but it's the best.
   Every morning around 8 my baby climbs into bed with me and wakes me up with cuddles, asking for breakfast. I make oatmeal or eggs and bacon and English muffins, and we eat breakfast together and play with his cars. Then I do some dishes while Cooper plays with Raymond and his toys. We get dressed and go for a walk or if it's yucky out we play hide and seek, then home for a snack and more playing and coloring. We have lunch around 1, and nap time is at 2. Usually he sleeps for at least an hour and a half, so I can do more dishes and clean up his disaster in the living room from playing all morning and stringing out EVERY TOY HE OWNS. Then I get a little bit of mommy time, which I feel is pretty important for maintaining my sanity. I usually read a little bit or get on the mom forum I just joined, CafeMom. When Coop gets up we eat again and I get out what I'll need to make dinner so Brandon can sit and eat and relax when he gets home. Usually after his nap, Cooper wants to watch a movie or just sit and color. He's a morning baby, and even after his nap, he's burnt out. Until daddy gets home. Then he's so excited to see his FAVORITE PERSON EVER that he's bouncing off the walls again. We all eat dinner together, and play for a while, and watch a movie until Cooper goes to bed around 10. That gives Brandon and I about 2 hours for grown up time before we go to bed. It's a pretty boss schedule.
   Cooper loves to cook and bake with me. Which is awesome because it gives me the opportunity to do those things without having to keep him entertained or worry about him getting into stuff. He likes to pour what I measure, stir things together, taste everything, everything, and run around with potholders on his hands screaming "CRAB CLAW" and getting me.
   I'm lucky Cooper is such a happy, easygoing baby. I'm lucky Brandon is such an incredible dad, and I'm glad I can be the best mom I know how and have the most exceptional child I could hope for. This isn't even just proud momma talk. My son says please and thank you, he is affectionate, he is brave, he's thoughtful of other's feelings, he loves animals and cooking and counting and drawing and music... I could not ask for a better child, and I could not be prouder of my little boy. I'm so excited to see who he grows up to be.
   We're almost caught up, and then by February we'll be ahead. By a lot. I'm a pretty lucky lady. I'm glad we'll be ahead, because we're going to need it around Brandon's birthday, and for all the stuff we have planned for the summer. It's stressful, but all worth it.

I'll tell you why: Because I'm a bit of a masochist.

I feel I should preface this by letting everyone know that I am allergic to cats. Itchy skin, congested sinuses, swollen eyes, mild asthma attacks, misery allergic. Growing up we always had cats anyway, and I just made sure to take my allergy meds and asthma meds and not to pet the animals unless I had doubled up on my allergy pill. Since being with Brandon, we've had one cat. We had her for a little over 2 years before we had to move and couldn't take her with us, and so we had to give her up, which is a bitter and sad story because I loved that cat, and up until the day of the move had been told we could keep her with us. I guess minds just change all of a sudden like that...

Anyway, once LeeLou was gone, I didn't have to have an excessive amount of pills in my cupboard or chemicals in my body, which was nice even though I missed what I considered to be a little member of my family. We decided to never get another cat. Oh, sure. I helped a stray, but we didn't KEEP Toe, for the very reason we decided cats were out of the question. And I was happy with that decision.

Cooper started hanging out at my mom's house, and suddenly became VERY aware of kitties. He wanted every one he came across. He loved them. He'd ask, "Please, mom? Please kitty?" And I, being the sucker of a parent I am, decided to bring it up to Brandon. "Just one little kitten for Cooper. It's smaller than the puppy we were going to get him next year, and easier to take care of, and clean up after." So he said ok. We should both be punch firmly in the head and told to use our brains.

Last night we brought home a few things from my mother's. Cooper got a new toddler bed, so we can get rid of the old twin sized bed he has been sleeping on, that is wretchedly uncomfortable and ugly. He now has an Elmo bed, and he's very excited about it. We also brought home some food for Brandon, who was extremely cranky when Cooper and I got home. Joy. Most importantly, we brought home Cooper's new kitten, Milo.

This morning I am an allergic wreck. I have no meds to help cut the symptoms, other than my handy inhaler, which I needed twice last night. Milo is cute, and very sweet, but I already dislike him for something he has zero control over. Cooper, however, adores him and is supremely happy. Momma's going to have to go buy some allergy pills. Sigh.

Other than being a complete idiot about my health for the sake of my child's happiness, I think I'm doing ok as a mom. I just need to get better at saying no to things that he doesn't need that make mommy feel like poop. I could have gotten him a stuffed cat and I'm sure he would have been happy with that too. Hindsight.

The roaming gnome is lucky he doesn't have to deal with travel companions.

   I'm finally home. After a week away. I missed it. The trip I just went on did NOT go well, and I can honestly say I never want to find myself so far from home and my boys again. Unfortunately, Brandon starts his new job in Boise. Meaning he's spending the week days with his mother until we can get his car fixed. He's also spending week nights there. Cooper and I are alone for the week. So after a week away from my man meat, I still have to go to bed by myself for the next work week. NOT PLEASED.
   When I got home, I was welcomed to fresh brownies and an almost clean house, and I got to give my son all the love he missed out on while I was gone, all at once to catch up. I think I've been driving him a little mad. I don't know what I would do without him. Brandon gave me catch up love, too, but not enough to get me through the week. I'm craving some physical connection to remind me I'm human. Still, I suppose there's not much to be done but to trudge on and look forward to him coming home for the weekend and hopefully more. I'm rather frustrated by my life tonight, but I think it's simply the exhaustion talking. I have not gotten enough sleep. I keep finding myself nodding off.
   After eating nothing but fast food for a week, and what Denny's calls red velvet cheesecake bites (more on those in a bit), I was craving salad. So that's just what I made Coops and I for dinner tonight. It was delicious. Full of veggies, as any good garden salad ought to be, topping with croutons and ranch dressing... it was perfect. We watched Cars 2 while we ate and I thought about some things to sort out and to let go of. I sometimes need a reminder to let go, and a deep breath and a bowl of salad after a week of hellacious travel seemed to be just the trick.
   As for Denny's... they have utterly failed in making red velvet that came close to red, rich, or chocolaty. It was basically white cake batter dyed pink with food dye, then deep fried. This is unacceptable. The white chocolate chips and terrible attempt at icing only added to my disappointment. Denny's: Come on, guys. You're better than this. WE'RE better than this. I think I need some space.
   Anyway, I'm off to bed, I think. I feel like a little old lady as it's only just before 8:30, but I'm tired and ridiculously lonely, so off to bed I hop. Except I can't sleep in my huge bed all by myself, so more like, off to couch I hop.
   Goodnight, internet.

P.S. I suppose I DO make a nice squirrel scarf after all. rofl.

Brandon has been doing all the cooking and baking lately.

   So lately I've been really depressed. I'm generally a really happy person, but I've been in such a funk for a while now. After having my son, Cooper I got really depressed and started having panic attacks really bad, and depression is pretty common in my family. My mother, grandmother, and aunt are all medicated for it, and I'm fairly certain my little brother has clinical depression too, but he'd NEVER talk about it or get help for it. Instead when he gets down he does reckless, stupid things or hurtful things and hooks up with women with too much drama that just end up cheating on him or ripping him off. As for me, when I get in a funk, which isn't horrendously often, but it does happen, I tend to become really overwhelmed. I tend to feel like I'm all alone and like no one gives a damn. Which frankly, is complete bullshit. Still, the reason I think it's actual, treatable depression is that no matter how much evidence I have that I'm not alone and the people in my life do care, and that life is worth waking up happy to every day no matter what's going on, I just can't manage to feel happy or care about things I'm normally passionate about, and that scares the bejeezus out of me.

   That all being said, I feel like I'm never going to have my food truck. See, we've had issues paying our bills the last couple months, and we're still behind on everything. Brandon found a really great job, but he doesn't start working until mid-November, when the next training class starts. By then we'll be so far behind it's going to take months of devoting every penny of every paycheck just to pay the rent and power bill. We won't be caught up enough to spend anything extra until the end of February, well after Christmas and Cooper's birthday, which bums me out, because he's old enough to participate and find magic in all of it this year. Thankfully we have a fantastic landlord that is working with us and paying our power bill until we have reliable income, but I feel smothered in debt. We're better off than a lot of people this winter, and I feel for everyone that doesn't know if they'll have a home for their families on Christmas morning, or the people that are where we were just a month and a half ago, that don't know where their next meal is coming from. At least I have a plan, and I have hope, and I have my fantastic family. Now to just get rid of this weighty lingering sadness.

   I was going to use this blog, back when our bills were being paid and I was in school, to write about the progress of owning my food truck, and to post recipes for things I planned on selling in it. Since that's being postponed for a while, I'm going to stick with just the progress in our life in general, and still post recipes, but of anything and everything I feel like. Lately, Brandon's been doing the majority of cooking and baking, so I've got nothing. The stuff he makes is so vastly different from the stuff I make. I make cupcakes, he makes empanadas. I make quiche, he makes flautas. I make chicken noodle soup, he makes pork calabacita. He's basically the wealth of spice to my (extremely pale) white (seriously, I pretty much glow under a black light) granulated sugar.

   Brandon made pineapple and pumpkin empanadas the other day that makes me wish pumpkins were sold year round in Idaho. Only getting to eat these delicious little things one month out of the year is depressing and wrong. He said he would start using canned pumpkin, but I think he was just saying that as I sobbed over the crumb covered plate of what moments before were 2 dozen warm, 3-bite empanadas that I inhaled. I left 2 for Brandon. I'm generous that way.I think he just wanted me to stop lamenting about the fact that once they're gone, I get no more, and they were gone. We still have pumpkins to carve though, so it's going to be alright until at least the first week of November.

   These things are seriously delicious. I helped make the crust, because I'm incredible at making flaky, delicious crusts, if I do say so myself. Brandon has a tendency of overworking it to death. So he let me do that. I also got to sneak filling off the stove top with a spoon every time his back was turned. He was not amused. I didn't care. I despise pumpkin. I don't even really like pumpkin pie. I always think I do, and try to eat some on Thanksgiving, but I don't. I never finish the piece. I usually just eat the back crust and let someone else finish my slice. Pumpkin is not ok. Unless it's in my Aunt Ellie's pumpkin ice cream pie, or pumpkin pie milkshakes from Jack in the Box. Both of those are good. These empanadas are like magic. Just trust me. I'll get and post the recipe tomorrow. I have pants to put on now, and a house to tidy while my son is at his grandparents.

   Cooper's over there because we were out late last night doing the local zombie walk, which was lame this year, and getting pizza, and playing practical jokes on Morgan's little brothers, and bugging one of them until he was laughing so hard he couldn't breathe. It was a good night. Morgan wanted me to do pinup zombie, so I got to dress up scary and sexy. I love that combo. Now, on to dishes!

My man made me cupcakes.

   I don't have a recipe to post today. Because I didn't bake. My love, however, my love made me some of the best cupcakes I've ever eaten. He made them completely from scratch today. This is a big deal for a few reasons:

1. No one has ever made me cupcakes before. I even made the desserts for my own baby shower, and birthdays usually involved store bought cake or at best a boxed mix. That's not to say I'm not grateful for what I got, it's just a big deal for me to have someone make me something from scratch just for me.
2. He made them for no reason. Just because. For me. To make me feel good. He hates sweets, especially cupcakes, but he made them anyway.
3. He DOESN'T bake. Ever. The few times he's tried he's failed so hard he's avoided the oven like I avoid needles. With an avid fear apparent to most in the room. It's funny, because he can cook like no one else. He makes some of my favorite foods. None of them are baked. He's SCARED of baking because the result is so rarely good. Once he did make me cookies while I was pregnant. They weren't bad. I ate a few on purpose.
4. They were easily the best cupcakes I've ever had. I can't tell him that, because he will think I'm just telling him to boost his ego, but they are unequivocally the best cupcakes I've eaten, and I'm a girl that loves a good cupcake.

   I may have had to give him a few pointers. He doesn't bake, after all, so some things were new to him. Also, he wrote part of the recipe wrong, so I had to tell him before he put 3-4 Tablespoons of salt in the batter instead of 3/4 teaspoon. Still, he made them, and he did an excellent job.

   These little cakes and I may have to run away together. It's going to suck when I eat them all and find myself alone, having left Brandon for baked goods, but they are that special kind of delicious that inspires art. Or poorly lit pictures of me pointing at cupcakes while grinning like a fool in my jammies because I don't get dressed or brush my hair on days I don't have to. I also don't cook real meals beyond quesadillas, or eat anything beyond junk food unless Brandon yells at me about being healthy. Cooper is gone this weekend, so this is one of those weekends. I'm a grown up, I promise.

   Let me describe these for you before I post the photo that is going up below. These are the fluffiest, moistest, softest little white cupcakes. They are lightly sweet and have a mellow vanilla flavor. I had him add extra vanilla because... well... vanilla is yummy. I can't get enough. They are filled with raspberry and white nectarine compote, which isn't overbearingly sweet. It's tart enough to stand up to the frosting, but it doesn't overpower the delicate little cake. It's pretty darn good. Then he topped them with a dollop of extra, EXTRA, EXTRA vanilla butter cream frosting. It's perfectly smooth and soft and whipped up so it's like a little pillow of creamy sweetness. Then he dropped on the rest of the compote. This is more than a crush. This is true love. I may have to dedicate a side of the bed to these little babies. They are that good. Just no one tell Brandon. He may decide he likes baking, and I swear, if he keeps baking better than me, I'm going to be upset because I like having that.

This is me being thrilled to death with my cupcake. I didn't actually die, but almost.

This is Brandon enjoying the last bite of his.

CUPCAKES!