I recently read a blog post that was written by a woman about her mother. It was titled When Your Mother Says She’s Fat and was about a mother who believed that she was “fat, ugly, and horrible.” The daughter went on to describe how it made her feel when her mother said these things about herself and how because of this example in her life, she carried on with her own insecurities about herself.

I found this writer’s story kind of surprising because it is so completely opposite of the life experience I have had with my own mother. Let me start by saying that my mom is TOUGH. She is not tough in a rough, biker chick sort of way. She is tough in that when she sets her mind on something, she radiates pure strength from start to finish. No whining, no complaining. Just suck it up and do it. And, of course, she makes things look easy in the process.

When I was two years old, my mom decided to go back to school to finish her college degree. She went to meet with an advisor, whose advice was that there was no way she could manage the difficult curriculum with a two year old at home. Her response? “WATCH ME.” She successfully completed it two years later to earn her bachelors degree with honors.

Throughout my childhood and teenage years, I watched her begin and maintain a successful career in microbiology, start running, qualify for and run the Boston Marathon, take ballroom dancing lessons, learn to play the hammered dulcimer with no prior musical background, and ride the MS150. She went caving, hiking, backpacking, biking, and traveling. She was stubborn, independent, and strong. Sometimes she had a bit of anxiety about trying something new, but it never stopped her from succeeding. I don’t remember her ever truly doubting herself.

The confidence that she exudes has been priceless for me and has shaped me into who I am today. There have been many people at different times in my life who have doubted my abilities, who have told me I am crazy or I couldn’t or shouldn’t do something because it would be too difficult. Sometimes those voices have been painfully discouraging. But, always, at the back of my mind is the little voice, HER voice, saying WATCH ME. I listen to it, and it doesn’t ever let me down. I accomplish the things I want to accomplish.

Being a role model of self-confidence is one of the best gifts a mother can give to her child. I am so thankful that I have had this example in my life. As I am about to embark on my own journey of motherhood, I hope that I will be strong enough to follow her lead. She set the bar pretty high. But I would love nothing more than to give my children their own version of WATCH ME to sustain them with confidence and encouragement throughout their many endeavors in life.

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve always been jealous of those with summer birthdays. My birthday falls on January 10, which is about 3 weeks after Christmas, right after the start of New Years’ resolutions, and, at least when I was growing up in Pennsylvania, the dead of winter. Summer birthdays always meant great fun with pool parties, ice cream cake, and staying up late because there was not school the next day.

So, we try to take advantage of Dave’s June 30 birthday by doing something fun every year. One year we took a trip to Colorado and did some hiking, brewery touring/tasting, and sightseeing. Since we’ve been in our current house, we’ve thrown a party the last couple of summers.

This year, Dave wanted a double-tap kegerator for his birthday. I did quite a bit of research online and found the kegerator that I thought would work best and I ordered it. It arrived and he got it set up with a few days to spare before the party. One of the taps works with a commercial style keg (any beer you would normally drink on tap at a bar), and one of the taps works with a homebrew keg. Dave does some homebrewing, so this will work great, as it is much easier to keg than bottle brewed beer and it keeps the beer nice and cold without taking up space in the refrigerator. He went and picked up a keg of St. Arnold’s Weedwacker, which is one of our favorite local brews, and got everything ready to go.

Kegerator w/St. Arnolds Weedwacker beer

It was necessary this year to minimize the amount of work that I had to do for the party as my energy level is pretty limited right now, so we selected easy foods such as chips and salsa, grilled hamburgers and hot dogs, some fruit, and of course homemade birthday cakes. I baked the cakes, set the stuff out, and then decided to just relax and let everyone fend for themselves for the rest of the night. This was not easy for me to do, as I have a hard time sitting still at my own house. Even when home alone, my mind is usually racing with tasks I should accomplish. It gets worse when people are over and I tend to mentally obsess over things like refilling food and drinks, getting more chairs, music, toilet paper in the bathroom, and on and on. I made a conscious decision NOT to let myself do it, found a pool float, and spent most of the night in the pool.

Where I spent most of the party

And guess what? It all worked itself out just fine. We have some wonderful friends who took charge of getting condiments out, cutting up tomatoes and onion, and serving the cakes. Dave did a great job with the grilling and serving, and everyone got up and got their own drink when they wanted refills. It was a good learning experience for me to just relax and let things be and let other people help me. I had a great time, probably even more so than any other party we’ve had, which I didn’t expect at 32 weeks pregnant!

Birthday cards

Dave had a truly enjoyable birthday celebration, and we are very grateful to the wonderful friends, neighbors, kids, and dogs who came to have fun with us!

Dave got some great looking growlers full of beer as a birthday gift from some of our friends.

One of Dave’s awesome birthday gifts

He also got some dog bandanas from our niece, Rachel, who made them herself! Impressive!

Our dogs modeling their new bandanas

I have always had an unwavering love for peanut butter. I like all kinds of peanut butter: crunchy, creamy, organic grind your own peanuts kind of PB, JIF, Skippy, etc. I love it all. At some point in my single, dating life, I made a list of qualities I was looking for in a man. I wanted someone kind, smart, possessing of a sense of humor, and, hopefully, a peanut butter enthusiast. It seemed, in my mind, that if this man and I could share in common a sense of peanut butter passion and recipes naturally derived from such passion, then what misfortune couldn’t we face as a couple? 

Tragically, my husband is allergic to peanuts. Three out of four ain’t bad I guess…

Here is a recipe that I made this morning that I absolutely love:

Peanut Butter and Honey Muffins

Peanut Butter & Honey Muffins
Makes 6 muffins

Ingredients:
1 cup flour
1-1/2 TSP baking powder
Pinch of salt
3 TBSP peanut butter (crunchy or smooth)
2 TBSP oil
3 TBSP honey (or agave nectar)
¾ cup milk (almond milk, soy milk, etc works fine too)
Instructions:
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease muffin pan.
2. Whisk the flour, baking powder, and salt together.
3. Add the peanut butter and oil and mix with fork until crumbs form.
4. Add the milk and honey and mix until just combined. Do not beat.
5. Pour into muffin tins and bake for 15-17 minutes or until done.

Recipe Notes:
1. I added a few chocolate chips to the top of the muffins after I had the batter poured into the tin.

Random side note:  I enjoy baking things from scratch.  Normally my only goals are that my baked goods be edible and enjoyable to eat.  I’m a chemical engineer, not a chef, so I don’t really place much value on baked goods aesthetics or spend time attempting to make beautiful food creations. So, when you see pictures that I’ve taken of my baked goods, they probably won’t be pretty!

I’ve been thinking a lot about my parents this week, as Fathers’ Day is coming up this weekend. Thinking back through the 34 years of my life, there have been a lot of fun celebrations of Fathers’ Day in my small family. For those of you that don’t know, I’m an only child. I’ve always had a really neat relationship with both of my parents and they continue to be a big part of my life.

When I was about 7 years old and just learning how to write, I remember reading an article about making and giving coupons to your parents as gifts for chores that you would help out with around the house. The coupons were for activities like washing the car, picking up sticks in the yard, sweeping up messes, etc. For some reason, I decided this sounded like a great idea, so I got to work and made coupons for my dad. I designed them, drew them out with crayon and marker, and worked hard to package them up in an envelope ready to hand to my dad on his day. When I gave him the envelope, he opened it and started flipping through the coupons and pretty soon he started laughing. I didn’t understand what was so funny. He was laughing because I’d made about 100 coupons, which have lasted him for 27 years now. He still pulls them out when I visit and tries to make me wash his car!

A couple of years later, my dad completed a project he had been working on for awhile: he built a jeep, basically from scratch, from what I remember. Summer was fast approaching, and I was trying to think of a good gift for Fathers’ Day, so I asked him what he wanted. His reply was that he wanted a bumper sticker for his jeep. We are not the kind of people who put bumper stickers on our vehicles really at all, so I had no idea what sort of sticker to pick out for him. At my next opportunity for purchasing a bumper sticker, I took my time and read through all of them before selecting one that said “SH*T HAPPENS!”. I have no idea if, at age 9, I knew what this meant at all, but I proudly took the sticker and marched up to the register, and, at the puzzled looks from the cashier, explained that this was my dad’s fathers’ day gift. My dad loved that sticker and it stayed on the jeep for years until we sold it.

Silliness aside, the best Fathers’ Day celebration that we have had together was in June 2007. In February 2007, my dad entered the hospital and was diagnosed with a rare immune system disorder called Wegener’s granulomatosis. He was in the hospital for several weeks. For awhile, he was taking a lot of medication and was having a difficult time with various side effects, combined with symptoms of the disease. That June, I decided to pay him a surprise visit for Fathers’ Day. Pulling this off was quite tricky, as I live in Texas, and at the time, my parents lived on a farm in the mountains of West Virginia. My mom managed to get me at the airport without too much deception and my dad was truly and pleasantly shocked to see me. We drove back to the farm and had one of the best weekends with all three of us shooting clay pigeons, riding four-wheelers, enjoying sunsets from the top of one of the mountains, telling our family inside jokes, and stargazing on the back deck at night. It was some of the best quality time we as a family had had together in awhile and was all the more appreciated due to the recent health scare. (My dad has been in remission for several years and is doing wonderfully now.)

There is a neat bond that exists between fathers and daughters. I am so thankful for the wonderful father/daughter relationship that I’ve been blessed with, as it has been one of the most defining relationships of my life in so many ways. I look forward to many more fun and funny fathers’ day celebrations in the years ahead!

This question has been sitting solidly and dully in my mind for a few days now. I have been hoping for a wild burst of inspiration, followed by a flurry of writing and posting activities. As of yet, no such luck. In the past, this type of inspiration came to me while I was out running, or during a nice hot shower. These days, I am not able to run. My showers, while wonderful and still thought provoking, are usually filled with effortful bodily contortions to prop a leg on the waist-high grab bar, while giving my twin filled belly room to expand horizontally. Meanwhile, I breathe and try to remember why I wanted my leg up there. Usually, at this point, I find myself contemplating how the Octomom did it. Truly, how did she do it??

I’ve had a number of uninspiring ideas, such as the long and convoluted history of how the heck I ended up living in eight different states before settling in Houston, TX of all un-pretty (and yet surprisingly good) places. Or, the unlikely chronological sequence of events where I met my husband, decided I was going to marry him 5 minutes later, and then spent the next hour asking myself WHY ON EARTH I would have such a ridiculous idea (??!!). Ridiculously correct, it turns out. Or, there’s the amusing pet stories involving cats leaping into fresh pizzas and dogs swimming in the backyard pool. There is my pregnancy philosophy (eat, drink, do what you want and don’t worry about it!), my job, any number of strange things I think about on a daily basis, and the list goes on… None of it seems exactly right for a very first blog post.

In the end, I’m here because I hope to begin writing more often. It doesn’t really matter whether the subject is one of great interest or some of the more mundane details of life. If it gets me writing more, I’m happy with it. So, this is how one begins a blog…by writing about nothing.