An afternoon with the Kansas Freezer Meal Queen

This morning I’m sitting on the couch, looking like a Buddha in yoga pants and a maternity t-shirt, humbly contemplating the blessings of true friendship that I have.

Friends from back home in Texas who, even four years after I abandoned them to the storms and mosquitoes, still regularly keep in touch and send gifts to my boys. Friends from all over the Internet, some of whom I’ve never met, who care for my family and are helping welcome our new son.

I have one friend who sends me morning text messages checking up on me when she somehow just knows it’s going to be a rough morning. I have another who sends me silly Facebook messages and keeps me laughing.

And I have this friend who, even though she juggles four kids, a yard full of dogs, a household and her own successful, busy blog, still took an entire Sunday out of her schedule to shop for and prep a freezer full of meals for my family and me.

Superwoman here, she’s working on running 500 miles this year. She’s mastered a gluten-free lifestyle for herself and her family. Her birthday parties are epic. And she can turn a cart full of groceries into nearly a month’s worth of meals in one afternoon.

Greta presents Freezer Meals!

Yesterday after a tasty brunch we hit up a few stores for supplies. Greta was kind enough to refrain from making fun of me as I huffed and puffed and grunted my way down the aisles. I had chosen eight or nine different casserole recipes that used groups of similar ingredients and spent about $150 on food and pans – not bad for a dozen dinners (that will yield plenty of leftovers)!

When we got to the house, Greta roasted the chicken, browned the ground meat and boiled the pasta, all while looking cute in her coordinated pink apron/shoes/phone combo. I sat in a chair at the table, ate chocolate and whined about my pelvis.

She makes cooking look cute.

Over a period of about three hours, we assembled a variety of baked chicken pasta dishes, a couple of Mexican-inspired tortilla bakes, and one very badass macaroni and cheese. There’s some greek chicken pasta in there, some pizza pasta, an enchilada casserole that I’m using all of my willpower to avoid cooking RIGHT NOW and a tater tot casserole that will be my guilty pleasure one day.

casserole collage

My kitchen was a glorious wreck through much of the process, although it cleaned up right quick when we finished. Looking back, the whole experience was an absolute blast and I look forward to being able pay it forward and do this for another mom one day. In the meantime, I plan to make “Freezer Cooking Day” a new tradition around here.

If you’re interested in giving freezer cooking a try, you just need about an hour on the Internet, some good organizational skills, a great friend to help out and one afternoon a month.

I hope to show off some of these meals on Fridays after the baby is born – you know, once I can form coherent sentences again. In the meantime, check out a few resources if you’d like to get started on your own freezer stash!

Our Best Bites

Happy Money Saver

Denise Rudolph’s Pin Board

 

Full term and fabulous

Yeah, ok, so not really. When the OB asked how I was feeling today, I told him I felt like an irritable, sore gummy bear. And it’s true! I have very little patience. My pelvis is coming apart in places. My belly is so big I can’t reach my feet to tie my own shoes and I’ve officially got two chins.

So here we are, nine months and twenty pounds into our pregnancy. My rings still fit but just barely. I haven’t been able to breathe out of my nose for at least the last three months. I am SO. OVER. IT.

But damn, my hair looks good. So there’s that. (I took this pic this morning. If you compare it to the one I took a couple weeks ago, it looks just about the same, which kind of cracks me up. I have A LOT of purple maternity shirts, yes?)

Almost done

And the little guy seems happy to bake away in there. He measures up around the 77th percentile now, a sizeable jump from the 47th percentile last month. According to the ultrasound, he looks a lot like Homer Simpson – which totally explains the cravings for donuts and beer.

Anyway, now that we’ve gotten our twin blizzards out of the way and my husband is officially forbidden to travel anymore, I do declare that we are ready to have this baby. Not that the declaration influences him one way or the other, of course. I think he’ s perfectly content to continue harassing my rib cage.

But really, Baby Homer, anytime is fine. Mom and Dad are ready to meet you. Big Brother is beginning to think Mom is lying about there being a baby in her belly. Aunts and uncles and grandparents and cousins are looking forward to tickling your toes and snuggling you – and several of them are even flying all the way up here to do so!

Your friends from all over the world, the ones who read this blog and comment and keep your mom sane through everything, they’re ready to see you too. They’re ready for Mom to stop whining about being pregnant and just post baby pictures already, dammit. They’ve even sent gifts for you – outfits and toys and this beautiful, handmade blanket from sweet Jennifer who writes Just Jennifer and lets mom sit at her lunch table on Twitter from time to time.

blanket

You are already so loved. See you soon.

SnoPocaGeddon ’13

I find that when you can’t overcome or prevent something, it’s best to just give yourself over to it fully.

We woke up this morning to snow that was just beginning to fall. Over three hours, we accumulated about seven inches and it’s still falling. The gnomes were not impressed.

#SnoPocaGeddon

Neither was the dog.

#KCSnow

At first the kid was less than thrilled.

#KCSnow

But wait, this is kind of cool.

#KCSnow

Nah, Daddy, I got it.

#KCSnow

Ok, that’s enough. Pick me up now!

#KCSnow

Final verdict? I think it’s safe to say that while our son is genetically identical to his father in appearance, he’s totally Texan deep down in his blood like his mama and is not a fan of this cold, wet, sticky mess!

#KCSnow

35 weeks: Still rockin’ and rollin’

I wrote this morning on Twitter that I no longer feel human. That I feel like an incubator glued to a couch being fed Cheez Its as fuel.

I think that accurately sums up the last month of pregnancy. It’s just not fun. Your brain stops working, everything is beginning to swell and hurt and your uterus thinks it’s fun to randomly contract here and there. Because of the excruciating heartburn, there are like six things you can eat without burping lava.

It’s a miracle that I’ve got makeup on in this photo of my 35th week. My hair is even done. I am wearing a bra.

IMG_4174

We had a little bit of drama a few weeks ago with the pregnancy. I am currently classified as high risk for some issues, and so every week I go in and have a few tests done on the baby to check that he’s growing well and is healthy.

Well, during one of these tests, the baby was terribly uncooperative and decided to take a nap. Not just a light snooze, mind you, but one of those mouth-open, deep-sleep on the couch naps you take during the first trimester. Nothing would wake him up, no amount of buzzing or shaking would get him to respond.

So the doctor stamped a big ol’ FAIL on our test results and sent us up to Labor and Delivery for an afternoon of constant monitoring.

I was kind of in shock, having expected a quick 30-minute visit first thing in the morning. My phone wasn’t charged, I hadn’t eaten breakfast, and I had other plans.

But, nope, we got into an actual labor and delivery room, had to put on a gown and get into bed and get strapped with heartbeat and contraction monitors. I was so nervous that I put the gown on backward. (In my defense, I was thinking, “Well, they’ll want access to my front so it should open to the front.”)

Check it out:

IMG_4081

Whatever, backward or not, my lovely lady lumps and I totally rocked that gown.

Anyway, baby further frustrated people by turning himself so his back was against my back and his hands and feet were in my belly. The monitor couldn’t pick up his heartbeat for more than a few minutes, so we couldn’t get the 20 straight minutes we needed to be released.

I sat there for four hours with my mischievous fetus until the doctor finally decided I’d been tortured enough with hospital food to let me go home with a clean bill of health.

Luckily, we passed our tests last week (I may have visited Starbucks on the way to the appointment) and didn’t have to repeat this procedure, although I’ve been warned that it will most likely happen again, and in the event that he doesn’t cooperate and pass monitoring in the hospital, it’ll be “Happy Birthday Baby.”

Meanwhile, life goes on as usual around the household. Hubs is still working lots of hours and is so very much my hero lately. He takes care of so many things that I normally do and to show him my appreciation, I planned an afternoon of fun this weekend at a traveling music exhibit.

My husband is a music geek of the highest caliber. His iTunes collection is massive, we have all kinds of noise-making apps and gear and I’m often treated to long lessons on music history, theory and various performance critiques. (Well, it could be worse, he could be addicted to baseball too. Oh wait…)

Anyway, Union Station in Kansas City is serving as the first stop for a traveling exhibit called The Science of Rock. The exhibit is extremely hands-on and a blast for all ages and levels of musical experience.

Along with a couple of our friends, we marveled at the displays, played with the instruments and laughed as Monkey made it his personal mission to try on every pair of headphones in the place.

On the way out, we had to do some train watching, of course.

SoR collage 1

soR collage 2

sor collage 3

If you’re in the area and would like to visit the exhibit, you can plan your outing here. In addition to the exhibit, Union Station offers many activities perfect for family outings and also serves as a great date night destination.

Linking up with Greta and Sarah for #iPPP this week!

GFunkified

Who needs rock hard abs when you can rock hard to ABBA?

itunes morning

Wednesday mornings are great. My husband doesn’t have to go into work and so we sit around the house in our pajamas til at least noon, playing with the toddler, browsing the Internet and doing all manner of lazy, slothful family things.

This morning, basically incapacitated by a bout of the worst heartburn ever experienced by anyone who has ONLY JUST HAD WATER TO DRINK, I laid in bed upstairs while my husband and son hung out in the living room.

Hubs was messing around on iTunes, organizing his record-setting library of music. Really, we have external hard drives full of this stuff. If we had to put it on CDs, we’d need another house.

Soon, I began to hear the strains of late 90s and early 00s pop music wafting up the stairs.

Really bad pop music.

“I’m so calling you out on Twitter for jamming out to Sugar Ray,” I threaten.

“I am not the kind of guy who gets embarrassed about listening to music that’s suddenly no longer fashionable!” he yells.

“Suddenly? It’s been like 15 years,” I mutter.

“Next on the list is LFO and I’ve got some Smash Mouth with your name on it!” he volleys back.

This is why I married the guy, y’all. Not for his awful taste in music, but because he doesn’t give a rat’s ass what anyone thinks about it. Not even me. He’ll cruise down the street blasting the Don Giovanni Overture followed by some Sinatra and somehow, it just works.

Yeah, all you girls who let this one slip through your fingers? You missed out on waltzing in the kitchen to Kelly Clarkson. Be jealous.

Mama needs a brand new bag

I’ve always wanted to do a Monday Listicle with Stasha and her gang, and today I finally got a chance!

Don’t get too excited, because what I have to share is severely underwhelming. Ducky from BatCrap Crazy fame had suggested a “What’s in your bag?” reveal for this listicle, and my bag is woefully uninteresting.

I am a minimalist for sure, and hate to carry around anything I don’t need. I despise clutter and things that aren’t useful. What’s fun is that I live with a total packrat, and if you were to compare the contents of our top bureau drawers you would see why it’s a miracle we’re not in counseling.

So here, this is my current bag. It’s not “appropriate” for the season, but even though I’ve had it for a couple of years now, it’s still in outstanding shape, so I can’t really justify buying a new one anytime soon.

Fall '11 bag

In it I carry – oh look. Surprise, a matching wallet. Borrrring.

Fall '11 wallet

And lip balm, because I live in the Midwest where, for half the year, humidity does not exist but wind does, and so I have the lips of a crackhead.

Philosophy lip gloss

Oh, but this stuff! This is great stuff – Band-aid’s Friction Block. I hate socks, but I also hate blisters, so I smear this stuff on my heels and toes so I can wear cute little shoes and not end up with ballerina feet.

Bandaid Friction stick

Here’s the only other part of the pitifully small beauty toolbox in my bag – a giant hairclip. What? It could be worse. It could be a scrunchie!

Massive hair clip

Ok, so of course I need iStuff. Earbuds and a car charger adapter, because nothing sucks more than being out and about with a dead phone or no way to block out the sounds of the general public.

Car charger Earbuds

But if that does happen, I always have a library book. Since I’ve been spending a lot of time in doctors’ offices and undergoing long, boring tests, and there’s only so many rounds of Candy Crush you can play, a book is essential. (Yes, I still read the paper kind. SO RETRO.)

Barnheart

And about those doctor appointments – geez, look, here’s my clutter. My appointment card from last week – the one that was supposed to be just an hour or so and ended up taking the entire day since I had to go hang out in Labor & Delivery. Yeah, that’s a fun story for later.

All those doctors appointments, gah.

Oh, and those? Nothing to see here. Moving on…

Reese's cups

My change stash. I have no idea why I carry this, actually. I never use cash, but somehow I end up with change floating around and I do NOT want in at the bottom of my bag, so here’s where it goes, presumably to die since it won’t ever be used.

Change purse

You know what’s missing from this bag though? Mom stuff. No, I totally have some here somewhere. Really! Look! WIPES! (Ok, so maybe I use them to wipe the Reese’s evidence off my fingers. Whatever.)

WIPES

So what’s in your bag? Because I could use some gum…

Well played, sir. #iPPP

Things have been a little stressful here lately. Not “incurable illness” stressful, or “facing time in prison” stressful, but hard to deal with nonetheless.

So we’ve been doing what grown ups do when times get to be not fun, we’ve been bracing each other up, back to back, buckling down and dealing with it. We’ve been working hard, praying for guidance, and letting the little things slide from time to time so we’ve got energy to deal with the bigger issues.

Only the thing about letting little things slide is that toddlers notice that shit. They notice that you’re not quite as quick on the trigger with some things. They begin to sense you might have a weak spot.

And like little lisping lions, they pounce.

For instance, you might have baked a huge batch of mocha cupcakes because you needed to eat your feelings one weekend. And you might have remembered to put the cupcakes in a cupcake keeper, but maybe you forgot to put the cupcake keeper out of a toddler’s reach.

So while you’re on the phone doing adult stuff and taking care of the not-fun business, your little chubby predator has pulled himself up a chair next to those cupcakes.

You hang up the phone and notice how quiet it is. You see no one is standing too close to the television, no one is singing along with Barney.

You come around the corner in the kitchen and a little mopheaded blond boy with dark blue eyes whips around in the chair and peeks up over the back at you, Kilroy-style.

“HEY Mommy! Whatcha doing? How AHH you?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” you reply, eyes narrowed.

“Thas good,” he says, then begins to tap his fingers on the chair and sing.

“Doo doo, la la. Doo doo, la la,” he chirps.

You notice those tapping fingers have brown smears on them. You get closer, close enough to see his whole face, and notice it’s completely covered with that same shade of brown. Then you see your cupcakes.

“WHAT have you been DOING?” you ask, incredulous.

“Nuffin,” he swears solemnly, the evidence betraying him. “Nuffin’, Mommy. Singing a song.”

Busted, he looks to you for clues. Will there be punishment, swift and perhaps severe? Or is he cute enough, juuuuust adorable and charming enough to fool you into thinking this is a blessed moment of levity in disguise?

Yeah, he’s that cute. Dammit.

What cupcakes?

I’m so grateful to have had the opportunity to co-host #iPPP with Greta. As my focus is clearly on things other than blogging this year, I’m sad to say this is my last week to do so. The lovely, brilliant Sarah will be co-hosting from now on over at The Sunday Spill. I look forward to dropping in and playing along once in awhile!

Link up your posts with camera phone photos here!



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