This caught me by surprise and I wanted to share this morning.
I promise, I will write again about the kids. Soon. But remember, I have a goal of doing a post a day in Novemeber so here's a little treat
I am out of my mind excited to host Thanksgiving this year. My first one as a Real Life Grown Up!
As I mentioned to a bloggy friend, I have felt a spritual connection to Martha lately in my mental preparations. Before you gag yourself with a flat whisk and a pair of craft scissors let me explain.
I come from a line of "what-on-earth?" in the kitchen. I didn't know until I was on my own and experimenting in the kitchen that before you make cookies one should let the eggs and butter come to room temperature, AND instead of dumping two sticks of hardened butter into a mixer, or heaven forbid, stirring the batter by hand, one can dice the butter into little cubes for better and faster incorporation. (GASP!)
I didn't know these things, because my mother didn't know these things. I am officially going to say to my female progenitors going back a few generations (just to fairly spread the blame) what the heck?!
I've had a lot of ground to cover. I started way back amid the frozen burritos, powder mashed potatos, fish sticks, tots and pop tarts.
When it came time to feed another human in my life, I didn't start off just trying things out. No no, I knew I needed serious help. And if any of ye lack wisdom in the kitchen, watch food network with a pen and pad of paper. I've come to consider cooking shows secondary education.
When I was first married I started watching Rachel Ray. Then I moved onto Ina Garten, Nigella Lawson, and I only needed a nudge from my dearest friend Kathleen towards "Marty" and my love affair just seemed all part of the natural progression.
I met Martha Stewart once, at a book signing in Boston. She is every bit as confident, gracious, and graceful with a slice of sternness in person as she is on television. I tried not to drool all over myself as she smiled at me and signed her book. She even held Jane's hand and told me she was cute. It doesn't matter that that is just what people say, it made my week.
I am slowly working my way into culinary competence with her tips, tricks, and recipe after recipe, and I can't wait to take on the most formal dinner of the year: The Thanksgiving Feast.
Recently my food processor (R.I.P.) passed away and today I replaced her to aid me on this most important day with a bigger, faster, stronger, pricier version. I just opened the box and do you know what was on top?
A 45 minute DVD. Um, how many appliances do you have that come with an instructional movie?
What's really sick is that I called Janie in and said "you're gonna wanna watch this with me" and she did. My 3-year-old and I sat side by side mesmerized by the capabilities of our new toy.
Have you ever felt an intense emotional need to slice, grate or chop?
No? Then you clearly don't have the right food processor. I didn't until this afternoon. This thing is cray-zee.
And just in case anyone is still reading this utterly ridiculous post, here are just some things on the menu for our big day.
These Brussel Sprouts
This Turkey (I will let you know how the brining process goes)
These Sweet Potatoes
Maybe this Stuffing
This Pie
I am getting hungry just thinking about this.
And would you believe it, as I sit here typing the unmistakable aroma of burnt cookies is wafting up from the kitchen. I no longer know how long they've been baking.
I clearly am not channeling Martha today. But enough about me, what are you having for Thanksgiving?
(It's a darn good thing many of my hopes and dreams include making dinner. Because, seriously, right?)
The first time I met Andrew was at church, in a Sunday school class. I was late and when I stuck my head in the door, all the seats but one were taken. There he was, next to that open seat. Of course, I knew who he was. It was almost embarassing that we were being thrown together like this.
Rewind almost two years. I was attending a church congregation in Weston, MA as a college student. I met loads of wonderful youngish families just starting business school, careers and families. I wanted to be them, all beautiful and happy. I did the next best thing by babysitting for them and learning from them.
One of the few families in the congregation that wasn't between the ages of 25 and 30 was the Hopkin family. Marianne (mother of 5 and not-yet-grandmother) and I were thrown together for some musical numbers as she was a pianist and I was a singer and violinist. We had great fun together and I enjoyed our friendship. She mentioned a few times her son, and she might as well have been talking to a brick wall. Everyone has a son, right?
Little did I know that two times during the first few years I knew her she was struck with the thought "she's going to marry Andrew." I still find this hard to believe, but she swears it is the gospel truth.
Andrew and I didn't cross paths, as he was attending college out of state, and then went to do missionary work in Siberia for two years.
His first holiday back home from Russia was Thanksgiving of 2001, and before church started Marianne grabbed my arm and said out of breath without any formal hello-how-are-you, "You don't have a boyfriend do you?" I told her no, I didn't, and she smiled and said "Andrew is here today."
My heart started pounding. His parents had been talking him up for a few years now. They even had even pressured suggested I write him while on his mission a few times.
The funny thing was, the best sell I'd ever had on Andrew as a human didn't come from his parents, it was from another kid at church who'd known Andrew growing up. He spoke about him with such respect and admiration, (as much for his mad skillz in basketball, football and baseball as his harder to measure personality traits, but still). I was intrigued.
So now I am at church, Marianne has told me Andrew is somewhere in attendance and lo-and-behold I am singing today. I knew he was going to see me and the butterflies were flapping away! Could this get any more like a bad movie?
Yes it can. As I wander into Sunday School a few moments after they started and see the beckoning empty chair next to this legend of a man, Andrew, I couldn't help but smile. I don't remember our first eye contact or first words, if I said hi or not as I slid into the chair. I've forgotten the moment to some extent.
Luckily, Brady and Kristen were the young-adult group teachers and had brought bribery and ice breakers in the form of candy. As it became apparent there was not enough to go around Andrew, who clearly knew who I was as well (nice prep work, Marianne), turned to me and asked if I wanted to share the last Kit Kat. I was happy to do so, and then, he did the weirdest thing I've ever seen:
He broke it the wrong way.
Kit Kats have a nice little line right? And he broke it the opposite way.
In my head I thought "What kind of socio-path breaks a Kit Kat against the grain?"
I still don't have a straight story on why he did that.
All I do know is that that night Marianne kept her strategy on course, invited me over for dinner, Andrew and I stayed up all night talking, went out again the next night. On our first date we held hands (I am so embarassed even thinking about this) and the only first-date-kiss of my life happened.
As I was remembering all of this last night I asked Andrew
"Did we really hold hands on our first date?"
"Yep."
"I am so sorry. Was it your fault or mine?"
"I think it was mine."
"Did you think I was some kind of hussy for letting you?"
"I hoped you were."
The rest is history. Looking back, we were smitten pretty quickly. I have a sick feeling that if he'd asked me to marry him the week we met I might have done something rash and said "yes." I am glad he didn't so our story is far less obnoxious.
I am also glad Marianne and Kerry pushed us together.
And now this is our life. On his worst day and mine there isn't another human I'd want to be with.
You've been there, Moms of the Internet.
It's 11pm.
You've done your post-kids-going-to-bed zone-out watching something empty and entertaining say, oh, like Grey's Anatomy or Glee or my new favorite indulgence Lie to Me.
Party's over though. The dishes aren't going to do themselves and now that you've decompressed you have to get some work done.
So, you putter around enjoying the silence and supressing yelps of pain when you step on a razor sharp Duplo block. 
Then, with your bed beckoning, on your final task of putting some clothes away in the baby's room, it happens. The closet door makes a squeaky sound that causes Baby to sit up in the crib and whimper.
BAM! You drop the clothes and silently hit the floor like an experienced Navy SEAL.
You feel a bit childish, scarcely breathing, hoping the Baby didn't see you or hear you. If he is alerted to your presence, it could ruin everything.
Please, Baby, don't pull yourself up to a standing position in that crib and look down upon your mother lying here on the floor. Please, Baby.
It is dark. It is quiet.
Can you get up? Is it safe? Has he gone back to sleep?
When you're sure, you pick the scattered onesies and jammies, put them in the drawer.
Peek over the edge of the crib and sigh.
Would it have been so bad if he'd woken up and needed to rock for a few minutes?
our good friend jon doesn't really dance all that often.
we saw him shake his groove thing at his wedding in August (which was the best wedding i've ever been to,)
ooh, look. let's think about weddings for a minute.
ok, back to jon and dancing. let's just say that there lives a certain 3 year old in this house who is very persuasive. turn down the lights and tell jon "i need you to be my prince" and well,
he couldn't say no.
Our Netflix list has been an interesting one this year, and looking back we haven't had one we wouldn't recommend so I thought I'd share what's been coming in the little red envlopes to this house.
These aren't so much entertaining, as much as they are enlightening and nail biting, tear wiping, humbling watching. Please, go to your library or your Netflix queue now.
The Devil Came on Horseback - a haunting documentary about the ongoing genocide in the Darfur region in Sudan.
A Walk to Beautiful - the story of doctors in Ethiopia who built a hospital to cure women of fistula
God Grew Tired of Us - documentary about some of the Lost Boys of Sudan.
The Power of One - not a documentary, but about the beginnings of Apartheid in South Africa
Cry Freedom - another non-documentary about trying to end Apartheid in South Africa.
Emmanuel's Gift - documentary about a disabled orphan in Ghana who inspires his nation and caught the attention of Oprah
Martian Child - domestic adoption + John Cusak = wonderful film
Awakenings - based on a true story, Dr. Malcolm Sayer attempts to treat a group of patients who've laid comatose in a Bronx hospital for 30 years.
My Left Foot - based on true memoir of man born with Cerebral Palsy who learns to communicate. Brilliant movie. Lots of tears. (For you Mormons out there who look closely at movie ratings, yeah, it's rated R. If you can stomach 2 naughty f words it is otherwise squeaky clean and inspring and wonderful)
Traitor - this movie is NOT what you think it's about.
Still in our queue:
Live and Become - Sudanese boy living in Ethiopia becomes adopted into a Jewish family.
The Last Days - documentary about 5 Hungarian Jews during the Holocaust.
War Dance - documentary set in Norther Uganda, where children are kidnapped into armies to be soliders, 3 kids find hope through music
Pray the Devil Back to Hell - documentary about thousands of Liberian women who help end the bloody civil war in 2003 that killed over 200,000 people
The Story of the Weeping Camel - documentary follows a Mongolian camel that's rejected her newborn white colt. Two young shepherd boys travel across the Gobi desert to find a healing musician
What's in your queue?
Have I mentioned I am uphip?
Let's just be honest peeps: It's late 2009, and last week I made my virgin voyage into the land of "sending a text."
The lucky recipient of this first text message?
I have NO idea.
I sent it to the wrong number.
But dangit, I was desperate to attempt this means of communication with a babysitter and I thought she might check that sooner than a voicemail.
I started the process of finding out how on my phone to send a text message. I was sweating as I tried to navigate the menu.
I wasn't sure what punctuation you can leave out and still make sense. I know one is not supposed to really punctuate these things, right?
I didn't know how long it was supposed to be.
I needed it to be long enough to express
"I need you to babysit Jane and Mark, my children ages 3 and 18 mos this afternoon for about 3 hours, maybe less, I can pick you up. Do you remember who I am? We used to be neighbors? Please call me, as I have no idea how to do this stuff and I sure as crap ain't gonna open a text message from you, since I have no idea how much this costs to send or receive these little nuggets of information. I could be blowing your babysitting money on this text right now. Please call me."
But not so long that it showed my incompetance in texting.
I can just see our babysitter (and the dude who got my text instead of her) rolling their youthful, cool eyes and saying "Oh my gosh, this foggey has no idea what ROLDFYR means. And she tried putting a comma in her text. Amateur."
I don't know the little acronyms. I don't know what they mean. Only a few months ago I found out what ROFL means. At least, I think I know what it means. (help me.)
Anyway, despite my limited exposure to technology and all that is normal in the world, I DO know what LOL means.
And there are a few things that made me laugh outloud recently. Thought I'd pass the you on to people who actually know about this writing thing.
Please, enjoy.
http://www.suburbanbliss.net/suburbanbliss/2009/11/halloween-2009-bacon-edition.html
http://nothingbutbonfires.com/2009/11/looking-for-a-theme-is-like-trying-to-find-out-why-heidi-montag-is-famous
http://mimismartypants.com/2009/10/26/three-minutes-for-your-teeth/
http://www.mom-101.com/2007/03/sesame-street-lost-pregnancy-episode.html
http://chickychickybaby.blogspot.com/2009/08/grandmas-little-helper.html
g'bye.
(post title courtesy of Jane's favorite Fancy Nancy book)
A conversation while driving to grocery store with classical station on.
Jane: Mom, what instrument is this?
"A french horn"
(pause) "Oooh, that sounds stylish!"
Oui. Everything in French is stylish.
here is her Papa Randy playing his horn. It's a pretty sexy instrument.
oh, and yes, i have turned into my mother and only rarely change the station from classical.
yes i am completely and utterly out of touch with music.
yes i am old and boring.
Going strong with NaBloPoMo. Today's post is a bit of a PSA.
So,go now, watch this, it made my day. CBS Evening News with Katie Couric
Go, I'll wait.
You're back?
Now, go here.
Thanks MK for introducing me to TOMS, which a) are the most comfortable shoes I own and b) help people all over the world.
Way back in October we had a "warm up" for trick-or-treating at Daddy's work the day before Halloween. Walking through the Pru with the kids in costume was like Moses parting the Red Sea. People oohed and aahed at the extreme cuteness the kids exuded.
This is where I will unveil Mark's costume (and my one "crafy venture" of 2009): a knight in shining amour.
every princess needs a prince
The next day the Halloween Gods smiled upon Boston and it was unseasonably warm, and there just enough wind to lend a spookiness as leaves swirled around the little princess and her knight as they embarked on the quest to obtain CANDY!
her first house
wait, maybe I'm too nervous
oh, you mean he's going to put candy in this bucket, right here? Ok...
We hit the jack pot, trick-or-treating with not one, but TWO Grandmas...
Mark only hit up one house. All he wanted was to eat his lollis in peace. 
saw this bench on the way to Grandma's house. Don't mind if we do.
the wicked witch loves sticky, drooling boys
The Drewsky and I had a telelconference with our adoption agency yesterday afternoon that pumped us up. (The post-dossier-submission-void-of-nothingness has been a cloud hanging around over here).
Our Ethiopian Adoption Coordinator ran through the details of what to expect when we receive our referral, what happens after that, how to start thinking about travel to the country, and we learned details about the court processes in Ethiopia.
This woman had been to ET in April and has been there 5 or 6 times. She has been to the court houses, spoken with judges, and discussed the policies in place both in ET and with our agency that protect children, our adoption, and birth families. It felt good to understand more.
It felt good to talk about our kids.
It felt good to hear "most families are being matched within 6 months." Though I was laden with guilt that so many families working with other agencies are waiting 12, 14, 18 months. It hardly seems fair - though I am not counting chickens. Anything could happen, we could end up with a long wait.
I have a really hard time fantasizing about our future bebes, gender, age, etc, it seems like a black hole to me. So, while I do some prep work for parenting strategies, I now am going to fill the void of "what do I do while I wait" with researching travel options.
Dove recommends having a fabulous trip with Ethiopia, aka, come for as long as we want, go on adventures while we are there, including visiting the regions where the kids are from. This is our chance to see the country, connect to this people, and we hope to build a connection to this place that is already so much apart of our family.
They also recommend visiting with the children every day, but make the good point that keeping the kids' transitions down to a minimum by letting them sleep at their orphanage and allowing them to stay on their schedule while getting to know us makes a lot of sense. Thus, I am trying to figure out where we want to go since we will have a lot of time on our hands while we wait for the US Embassy in Addis to grant the kids' passports, etc.
We recently found out our church has a congregation in Addis Ababa (the capital city) that we really want to attend.
We also kinda wanna go see some of this:
If anyone who's been there went someplace they loved, please tell us!
