Tasty Tortillas

30 Aug 2012 12 Comments

by Natalie in Cooking/Attempting to Cook, Failed Housewife Tags: , ,

I refuse to buy any more cheap tortillas – even if they are only .88 cents at the local grocery store.

No matter how long I microwave them or how slowly I try to peel them apart, I end up either shredding them to bits or wearing them to paper-thin thickness in the center.

I don’t know about you, but I can’t eat a juicy taco on a paper-thin tortilla. And heaven knows my little boys can’t.

I should just stop at Costco and get the jumbo pack of quality tortillas for less than $5. But I haven’t dared brave that store since the arrival of our newest baby.

So a couple weeks ago I tried my hand at making homemade tortillas. My boys and I were craving cheesy quesadillas after church on Sunday but we only had a couple of store bought tortillas left. (Why I thought to do this right after church when we all were starving is beyond me.)

Anyway, I found a super easy 5-ingredient recipe here here.

After mixing the stuff together and letting the dough sit for half an hour, I was ready to roll.


I am definitely not a pro at using the rolling pin. Most of the tortillas ended up looking anything but round. I actually think the shapes got weirder with each tortilla. But no matter the shape, they all taste the same, right?

My oldest son helped me roll the dough into balls. Here’s what my table looked like when he was done.

My husband came home just after I finished toasting the last tortilla. I think he ate 1/3 of the batch right then. That meant either they were really good or he was really hungry.

It turned out to be so easy that I thought I’d share the recipe. If I can do it, ANYONE can.

Now I don’t know that I’ll make them all the time, and I’m definitely not ready yet for a job at Costa Vida, but it was really nice to have a success in the kitchen for a change.

Sew Stressful

23 Aug 2012 1 Comment

by Natalie in Failed Housewife, What's a mom to do?

I don’t know why I think I can sew but every once in a while I get a wild hare and decide to tackle another sewing project.

What was it this time? A skirt for me to wear at my brother’s wedding.

I must have been feeling overly confident because I recently sewed some burp cloths that turned out pretty cute. But then again how hard is it to sew a square spit rag? The burp cloths were nothing compared to the skirt.

In my defense I didn’t think of sewing the skirt a week before my little brother’s big day as a first resort. One of my best friends and I went to several stores skirt shopping and had no success.

Nothing stood out to me and I didn’t want to spend $40 or more on something I thought was mediocre. Not to mention the fact that being a little over a month post-partum I hope to lose a few more pounds of my baby weight. (Note I said, “hope.” We will see what really happens.)

I didn’t want to drop some serious cash on a skirt that might not fit in December.

So the day after my skirt-shopping failure, I packed up my boys and made a trip to JoAnns.

I don’t know what other young boys think of that craft superstore, but my boys hate it. They were out of control the second we stepped foot in the door.

I rushed through the store searching for something to match my brother’s wedding colors as my boys swung from the cart and chased each other around. I finally settled on a green-patterned print and hurried to get it cut.

But I thought I was going to scream at the cutting counter. One of my sons decided to play dead in the middle of the aisle by lying sprawled out on the floor. That’s when the other one decided to pounce on him like he really was dead meat. All the while the young employee cutting my fabric just chuckled under her breath.

I didn’t think it was funny. I grabbed one of them by the arm and he started screaming out that I was hurting him. After half the store had turned their angry eyes on me – the parent that was beating up on her child – I called his bluff and made him admit that he wasn’t hurting at all. That’s when he started laughing and ran off again to chase his brother.

By the time we made it to the checkout line I was ready to cry.

My oldest two boys did end up crying – one hit his head on a metal shelf while trying to (once again) run away from me, the other bonked his forehead on the credit card swiping machine while trying to hang onto the counter like an upside-down acrobat.

I didn’t want to say it while we were in the store, but in my mind I was thinking it served both of them right.

I cut my fabric out later that night and was itching to start sewing but ran out of time. The next day I started bright and early stitching my skirt together.

I think I let my boys watch more TV that day than they have in a long time. As long as they were being good while I was working with my sewing machine, I didn’t really care.

The sewing actually went really well until I went to try the skirt on. I didn’t really know what size to make, but obviously I estimated wrong. I couldn’t cinch up the side. Unless I sucked in all of my air and didn’t breathe all day, that skirt wasn’t going to fit for the wedding.

Luckily I had some extra fabric. I sewed a couple extra inches into the edge of the waistband and readjusted the gather at the top of the skirt. At this point I almost felt like giving up. I had already gathered the top several times after my gathering string kept breaking. (I know one of my friends told me recently about a gathering trick using dental floss, but I couldn’t remember that in the heat of the moment.)

But the couple inches in the back was just what I needed in order to make myself squeeze in comfortably. A few hours and a lot of finishing work later and the skirt was finally done.

It turned out better than I thought it would and was super comfortable. It might not fit everyone’s style but it was perfect for me. (Even if my husband said it looked like I was ready to go to a sock hop in it.)

The wedding breakfast, ceremony and reception were amazing and even though it seemed so stressful getting my skirt together, it was so nice to have something I felt good in. Luckily it was all worth it.

Gone But Not Forgotten

16 Aug 2012 1 Comment

by Natalie in Dealing with Death, My Angel Baby, Pregnant After a Loss

I called my son by the wrong name the other night. Which really isn’t a big deal for most parents. I honestly do it all the time with my oldest two boys. But I called my newborn son “Luca,” the name of my baby who passed away two years ago.

It really made me stop and think.

Having a rainbow baby has brought me so much joy, so much peace. Yet in a very small, strange way, it has also made me miss my angel son even more.

Taking care of our new baby has reminded me of some of the things I have missed not being able to raise my third son.

I never bathed him, never fed him, never patted his back to burp him or changed his stinky diaper. And I hate that I never locked eyes with him or saw him smile.

I’ve been reminded lately that I will never be able to replace my little Luca. Nor do I want to.

Deep down I will always wish I had him here, no matter how happy I have become. No matter how much healing I have experienced. No matter how many babies I have after him.

The Turn Off

09 Aug 2012 Leave a comment

by Natalie in Failed Housewife, Uncategorized, What's a mom to do?

I’ve picked up on a horrible habit the past month while nursing my newborn. I have spent the majority of his 30-45 minute chow times scanning my social media accounts on my cell phone. Considering he eats an average of 7 times per day, that’s about four hours of time I have been wasting online daily.

And it’s starting to get me down.

Don’t get me wrong, I love checking in on people – especially on Facebook – but let me tell you how little things change when you are surfing the site every three hours for half an hour at a time.

I knew something was getting to me lately, but I couldn’t quite pinpoint it. Was it a mild case of post-partum depression? Not nearly enough sleep? Keeping my oldest two boys from killing each other the last two weeks of summer? A combination of all of the above?

I didn’t know exactly, but something was eating at me, leaving me with no desire to do the things I normally enjoy. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt like weeding my garden, and I used to love weeding my garden.

It wasn’t until I read an article from my junk email folder that I discovered a big part of what was making me blue – digital depression.

I think I have been getting way too much computer and cell phone face time.

The brief article talked about the potential computers, phones and video games have to make people feel more connected, but that they can also make people feel dejected.

I’ve got to get a grip and flip the switch on my social media overload.

Just think about what else I could be doing with my spare time. How many books could I read? How much Italian could I finally learn? How much more attention could I be giving my children?

There are a number of things I could be doing.

Now I’m not saying digital overload is the only thing draining me. I am definitely exhausted. Having a new baby has worn me out.

But I think that if I cut back on checking into my “social” life to just a couple of times per day, I will feel better.

So I’ve got new rules for myself. I’m not the type to completely delete my online accounts but there will be no online checking in during meal times, no online checking in while playing with my kids and no online checking in while nursing.

Hopefully logging out will help me log back in to the things I used to love.

My Summertime Shadow

02 Aug 2012 7 Comments

by Natalie in Parenting Battles, What's a mom to do?

I love my 6-year-old son with all of my heart. Letting him start kindergarten last year nearly killed me. But after spending two months of summer vacation with him, I’m feeling smothered.

The kid ALWAYS has to be right beside me.

If we are playing outside and I need to run in the house to check on dinner – he has to come with me. If we are playing the Wii downstairs and I need to run upstairs to check on his baby brother – he has to come with me. If we are cleaning up and I need to throw something away in the outside garbage – he has to come with me.

I am almost never alone.

I know what you are thinking. How cute! This little boy LOVES his mom. But I don’t think the crazy kid does it because he is enamored with me. I’m pretty sure he does it because he’s terrified of being by himself.

On two separate occasions I put him in the bathtub then ran downstairs to throw in some laundry. About five seconds down the stairs I heard little footsteps running frantically across the kitchen.

One of those times his slippery naked bum slid across the wet kitchen floor while he was racing to see where I went. He hopped out of the tub and ran across our upstairs because he was too afraid to be by himself for two minutes.

I was so mad that I didn’t have much sympathy when he hurt himself in the buff.

One night, after the boys were in bed, I made the mistake of running around the corner to pick something up from a neighbor’s house. My husband was home, but he was outside mowing the lawn. I tried to sneak out our front door, but apparently my oldest heard me.

I was gone three minutes, but I am pretty sure he screamed and cried the whole time. I honestly felt bad that he was so scared, but on the other hand I was so mad that he didn’t trust me. I have told him numerous times that I will NEVER leave him completely alone.

You can bet I won’t try to sneak away again – even if his dad is home but mowing the lawn outside. And he won’t let me.

His bedroom is on the same side of the house as the outside door we use the most. Unfortunately the storm door screeches wildly when swung. If I try to go outside for any reason after his 8:30 p.m. bedtime I can almost guarantee that he’ll hang over the side of his top bunk bed and pull open the blinds to see who has escaped.

I feel like a prisoner in my own house.

I think Kindergarten actually made him worse. I don’t know if during his 8-hour school days he spent any time alone – except to use the bathroom. He was clingy before the school year started, but now he’s holding onto me with a death grip.

I’ve got to find some comforting ways to let him know that he is OK on his own; to reassure him that I won’t leave him in danger. I’ve got to lovingly show him that although I love him more than anything and love spending time with him, sometimes I need my space.

I can kind of sympathize with the kid. I remember hating when my parents would ask me to fetch something from the dungeon-like basement of my childhood. I was scared to death to go downstairs alone. Sometime I’d make my younger brother go with and then I would run as fast as I could back upstairs, leaving him in the dust to be eaten by anything that lurked in the shadows.

But I am pretty sure my fears were centered mostly around the basement. At least I would like to think that I gave my mom a break every once and a while and didn’t hover by her side ALL of the time.

I feel schizophrenic writing this post because last fall I wrote how my heart was breaking sending my oldest to school. And although I feel like I need some space, I still don’t want to send him to first grade this fall.

I honestly love being with him. But I also want to be able to not be with him for a few minutes here and there.

I’ve got to get to the bottom of what is making him feel so scared when alone. Then hopefully I can sometimes shake my shadow for a few moments of freedom.