SNICKERS© Bite Cookies

Moment of truth: I love food but sweets are generally not something I crave. HOWEVER, last year I made it a goal to bake a new pie each month, inspired by my amazingly talented Grandma. It was actually a huge success and it taught me a few things about myself:

1. that I am a huge procrastinator-often I remembered the last week of the month (or the last DAY) and frantically had to plan my ingredients.

2. baking for me is kind of like free therapy-our kitchen isn't gigantic, there's hardly any natural light and if any of the four humans in our house enter it, I find myself tripping, a lot... but it has all that I need to get the job done. Something about following a recipe and measuring out quantities, planning as I go how I want to style the finished product for a pretty photo; it's comforting.

3. i'm actually pretty good at it- I said that I'm not a huge sweets person and truth be told, neither is my family. Sure my kids will ask for some candy when we have it, but more pies last year were wasted then I care to admit. My kids weren't huge fans, and they're at that stage where if a food looks different, they would rather take one bite (out of obedience) and skip the rest. I am of course grateful that they don't crave junk, but I am hoping to find a recipe that they crave someday soon. (I drool at the thought of my mom's m&m brownies, her molasses cookies, chocolate peanut butter balls, and blueberry pies. Whenever I think of them, my mind instantly goes back to sweet elementary school memories where I shared these goodies with my friends!)

So here we are, 2016. I promise my goals go beyond baking, but I'll save that for another post. So TA DAAAAA! One new cookie recipe a month is what I will be documenting this year (#ashleysyearofpies on Instagram if you care to follow along!) I had some packaged Snickers© Bites in my pantry and decided my first cookie recipe would be just this.

Ingredients:
1 cup (2 sticks) salted butter (and I had mine at room temperature)
2/3 cup light brown sugar
2/3 cup granulated sugar
1 egg
1 1/2 tsp vanilla extract (I had to use off brand/generic vanilla flavoring and the cookies still turned out delicious, so I can't even imagine the flavor when REAL extract can be used!)
2 cups all purpose flour
1 1/4 tsp baking soda
a pinch of salt
1 bag of Snickers© Bites

Directions:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees (I followed this step later in the process, instead of turning it on only to wait for the cookie dough to chill).
In a large bowl, cream the butter and both sugars until well blended. Add the extract and egg slowly to combine.
In a separate bowl, mix the flour, baking soda and salt together. Slowly add the butter mixture and stir until combined. Chill the dough for 1 hour (confession: I actually chilled it for 45 minutes because I was getting too impatient).
Drop dough by rounded tablespoons onto a lightly greased tray, about 2 inches apart
Bake for 8-10 minutes for chewy cookies or 12-14 for crispy (I took mine out after 7 minutes and let them finish cooking on the hot tray)
*You can either press the Bites into the cookies before loading them into the oven, or you can put it on when they come out--I actually did half and half just to see if I had a preference. I didn't, both ways are delicious :) 

Both of my kids yelled, "COOKIES!" when they heard the oven timer go off. I was all excited thinking they would actually love one of their Mama's desserts but guess what they did....they just ate the SNICKERS© bites OFF of the cookies and set the actual cookie to the side. And then said, "More?? More cookies?" Ummmm.... guess we'll try again?! I will say that my husband grabbed one with a fresh cup of coffee and reassured that they are indeed delish.
 

Bittersweet Trail of Motherhood

Reese is wearing Cruz & Q's 'Oh Happy Day' long sleeve tee. 

The house is dark and quiet, my desk lamp is the only subtle glow and the only sounds audible are the heater blowing and my fat, black cat purring beside me as I type. To my left is the kids' play place. Reese's new play bassinet and high chair that she got for Christmas. Her new Bitty Baby 'Lizzie' is lying next to her as she now sleeps. Pierson's giant Batman Lego toy and remote control race cars, his Avenger toys scattered around.

Asa and I are both school teachers full time; Monday through Friday is spent loving other parents' children. Seven hours away from home, for myself, teaching eight boys how to respect and trust the world around them. There are all the main subjects of course; language arts, social studies, science and math. But I stand firm on my theory that if they don't know to love each other and treat each other with kindness, how to exist and thrive inside our school walls, then what will life look outside of them? During the work week, we are with other kids more than we are with our own. On an average work day I get to spend 4-4.5 hours with Pierson and Reese, total. I don't see them before I get to school and they go to bed at 7:30 or 8pm every night. Structure and routine has been very vital to managing a healthy, happy family so don't get me wrong, I love that part. But I miss my kids. 

To anyone that asks me about being a teacher, I happily tell them it is the very best career I could image as a mother. I get paid holidays, winter breaks, summer break and don't forget those awesome and unexpected snow days. My kids aren't yet in school, thank God, but I imagine when they are I would love the career even more. I would have the same exact schedule as they will! The thing is, the more time I get with my children, the more I want. At two and three, their imaginations are exploding with crazy, cool new thoughts and questions. Their vocabulary is increasing and they say the funniest things. For instance Pierson's comment when he wanted to shower with me:

"Reese, you want to shower with Mom too?"

"Nope!"

"Okay, Reese, no shower for you then. YOUR LOSS."

[When did he start saying YOUR LOSS?] I couldn't stop laughing. And her new thing is, "I think so!" when you ask her a question or she finishes talking about any topic. Tonight before bed we played quietly in her room where she has a toy kitchen (also a Christmas present). She made Asa and I cookies and hot chocolate and ABC's (spaghettios) and came over to kiss us in between. Pierson wanted to play a few minutes in his room with Avenger action figures so I set a timer, like we always do. When it went off, he said, "Okay, Mom. Time to get in bed." He picked a book, grabbed his cup of water, the tape player we listen to Lullabies on, and crawled under the covers. All of it was sweet. Just absolutely, positively, mom tears flowing, sweet. We go back to work after tomorrow. I'm excited to see my students and my awesome co-workers... And now is the time of year where we look forward to those said snow snows. Spring break will be here before we know it and then soon after, summer. 

But tonight as I sit, trying to get comfortable under the fat cat who has moved himself to my lap, I feel many mixed emotions. I feel excitement for my kids' growing minds. For the fact that they are healthy and so happy, that they are obedient and learning to love Jesus. But with the excitement, I can't help but feel there is a part of my heart that keeps chipping. Someone else will create new memories with them five days a week. Someone else will make them lunch, sing them songs and put them down for naps. That someone won't be me, and therefore I will continue to play these memories on repeat, of the two weeks around the clock that we had together. I will hug them even tighter tomorrow and I will pray for the strength and dignity to walk this bittersweet trail of Motherhood.

Hello, 2016

Another New Years Eve, another year leaving us behind. While it is exciting, it is also extremely bittersweet. My toddlers are growing older, I'M growing older, and well, I can 100% now relate to the quote, "The days are long but the years are fleeting." Pierson is three and Reese is two. As trying as they are, I would bottle up their toddlerhood if I could. I've seen those mini-me dolls, like legit dolls, that are 3D versions of people. I joke, but I sincerely want one of each kid. Don't judge, I read about them in our classroom Scholastic magazines and soon as we finished, I exclaimed with excitement to my fourth and fifth graders that this HAD to happen for my kids. They thought I was crazy and yeah... I suppose I am. But toddlerhood, as exhausting and frazzling as it is, is the sweetest stage I'm convinced (yet) that I'll ever get to experience as a Mom. I know kindergarten is going to be pretty dang mind blowing (and terrifying), entering middle school, the sports they'll play or clubs they'll join. Drivers licenses and high school graduations, but good gravy, two and three is magical.  

Some of our re-caps:
2015 was pretty free of drama. I made some huge mistakes and had what I call my 'mid-quarter crisis' in 2014. That wasn't my best year, at ALL. So this year was a road of recovery, fresh air and rekindling our marriage. We went to North Carolina in July and that was pretty frickin sweet. A few days in the mountains, with some really great friends, experiencing a sense of freshness that we hadn't yet ever grasped.
Pierson had a hernia repair and hydrocele surgery in March. Seeing him in a hospital gown and getting drugged with laughy-gas had me in an internal puddle of hysteria BUT, he was the strong and brave boy that we knew he was. It went so well and after his nap back at home, he was back to his energetic, hilarious self. Praise GOD for that and as amazing as he was, I really pray that's the worst of his medical experiences (though who am I kidding... he's all boy!) 
We listed our house for sale in May and then had it taken off the market within 3 weeks. YUP! It was a complete whirlwind. And getting two kids, two cats, two dogs OUT of the house while it was being shown was well... our own little slice of hell. Within 5 days someone made an offer and when they did, I sobbed my eyes out hysterically. I should have known THEN that I wasn't ready to leave this place. We had several more offers come in but the biggest challenge was that there was no place to move INTO. NOTHING on the market was appealing to us. Believe it or not, there wasn't a decent sized home on 2-3 acres within city limits within our budget!? Ha ha! I mean, I only want an old barn, one that can house 2 or 3 or 6 horses, a barn full of cats, that has a heated office where I can sleep, and a functioning tack room. I'm kidding. (I'm not. But this is the dream). So we will re-assess this coming spring. Ideally yes, I do want a couple of acres, with a barn, and maybe even an old run down house that we can renovate over time. Does that exist here? NO IDEA! And that will be the exciting part of 2016 for me; where will God take us?   

I'm not the type to make resolutions with the start of a New Year, but through reading my Grandma's journals, I was inspired to bake one new pie a month. "Baked another blueberry pie today," it reads. Or, "Baked FOUR pies today. Put 2 in the freezer, ate one, and gave one to Beth for the kids. Hope I can get at least four in the freezer. They're so nice to have ready in case of unexpected company." She was amazing. She left a far greater legacy than 'just' pies, but this something quirky I always loved. SO, I actually followed through and accomplished meeting my 2015 New Years Resolution--the first resolution I've EVER been able to keep :) 

I love what Bob Goff says in his book Love Does: "Every day God invites us on the same kind of adventure. It's not a trip where He sends us on a rigid itinerary, He simply invites us. God asks what it is He's made us to love, what it is that captures our attention, what feeds that deep indescribable need of our souls to experience the richness of the world He made. And then, leaning over, He whispers, 'Let's go do THAT together" (130). Can I get an a- to-the-freeking- men?! What feeds your soul? For me, it's opening the back door and hearing the trees, seeing some land stretch before my eyes. I want to hear a whinny in the background, for my children to sit bareback on their very own pony while I lead them around a pasture. I want a blanket in an open field, my journal beside me and a pen in my fingers. That is a dream that lies deep within my heart; something that has been a part of me since my earliest memories. But God called me to Louisville, where I graduated college in four years, have worked some really cool jobs, made my home in one of the worst zip codes in the nation, and it is here too that I feel at home. The neighbor boys come to our porch for homework help, they used to climb our fence (before installing a privacy one, oops) and walking around the park saying hello to the people in this community gives my heart an extreme sense of happiness. Home is here; for now. It is here we are raising our babies; laughing, crying, praying and singing- and I owe it all completely to HIM. Here are some sweet images we captured today, on the very last day of 2015. Here's to a New Year. One to launching this blog, writing more, baking more, and embracing whatever our Creator graciously blesses us with. 

The Missing Piece

Photo by: Aubrey Renee

He is strong and so handsome, just like his Daddy. He is laughter and pure joy. He is the best hug and the sweet little voice that I remember as I drift off to sleep. He is medicine when my heart is sad and he is my pick me up when I fall. He was just six months old when I got pregnant unknowingly with his sister, seven months old when I found out. He was my baby. My Pierson Clive. The baby I tried several exciting months to get pregnant with. He was just learning how to sit up unassisted. I in turn, was just getting over my postpartum-thyroditis. (Yes, that's a thing. 10% of women get this quirky little disorder that is quote on quote 'temporary.' ) He was my boy. The one I thought I would have several years with, just us; him, me and his amazing Dad. A happy little family of three. I wasn't counting on that time being interrupted. I wasn't ready for my body to no longer be my own, especially when it had spent a year and a half NOT being its' own. Nine months of pregnancy, six of thyroiditis, six of breast-feeding (around the 7th month I dried up completely, thanks to my body starving itself from a hyperthyroid and a new pregnancy). I was angry and I was upset. I was hurt and scared; questioning myself and who I was.

It was Martin Luther King Junior day and the only reason I remember the significance in that, is because we as school teachers, had the day off. I woke up feeling funny, weird, exhausted and not myself. (By the way...I had never started a cycle after my son was born, in between the time of having him and getting pregnant with her. I was on the pill safe for nursing moms and I was breastfeeding. Maybe that helps drive home the point that I was drastically not feeling ready for another quite yet?)

“Go get a cheap pregnancy test, please.” I told my husband. And we both thought, “Yeah right.”

I remember that moment so vividly. I took a selfie, with my son and myself and the pregnancy stick box; and I texted it to my mom who lives out of state. We put our son down for his long afternoon nap, my husband began cooking lunch and I peed... I sat there and watched in the circle ,the blue line turn from a minus, into a faint plus. I felt like fainting. My heart started racing a hundred miles an hour. I yelled, “WHAT THE [insert inappropriate word here] ARE WE GOING TO DO!?!?!?” and my husband ran in. I really should instead say, “and my Saint ran in.” He kissed my head. “We're going to have a baby.” He responded. And I cried. I cried long and hard. As soon as my mom picked up the phone she said, “Oh, Ashley,” and I could feel the love in her voice. I sat on the couch for a very long time. I didn't eat lunch. And when my son woke from his nap, I cried big fat tears all over his head.

I stayed angry for quite a while. I really loved pregnancy with my son. I had planned for it and was ecstatic when we found out. I was excited to watch my belly grow and I didn't really care about the weight gain or the maternity clothes. But after he was born, my body went through so many drastic changes; rapid weight loss, an abnormally fast heart rate, hair falling out in massive chunks, crazy amounts of anxiety and sadness, and then the loss of my breast milk. Because it is temporary, meaning it can last anywhere from 3-7 months, the Thyroid Specialist wouldn't prescribe me anything except for my heart rate. And we never discovered that I even had crazy postpartum thyroiditis until my son was almost four months old. So I went through four months of just 'stuff.' Not fun, emotional, exhausting stuff. And two months later, I was pregnant? Oh boy...here we go...again?!?

The months passed and I discovered I was having a girl. I predicted she was a girl, very early in the pregnancy, as I craved completely opposite things, my face was breaking out like I was a pre-teen and my hormones were off the chart. Around twenty weeks, we had a gender reveal party and when I bit into that cupcake, I saw the pink filling and the ice on my heart slowly began to melt and fade away. I could feel sunshine making its' way inside and as usual in this pregnancy, I wanted to cry. My Pierson was going to have a baby sister. I was going to have a little girl. My very own little girl. And just like that, I believed that this all made sense. I was terrified to have two children who would be 15 months apart. I am a school teacher, traveling photographer, active church goer, wife and mom. I already felt tired all the time and I experienced a lot of self-doubt, my ability to raise two children. Time continued to pass and when we put a name to her, Reese Elisabeth-Morgan; named after my mom and grandmother, I began to instead trust that this was the plan all along. I didn't expect her, I didn't plan for her, and it took me a while to fall in love with her while she was in my belly; but she is the puzzle piece I never knew I was missing. She was born and she instantly completed our family. She had a speedy delivery, five hours total from start to finish, and I knew her the second she was placed in my arms.

Here she is, two-years old and not a day goes by that I don't thank God for choosing me to be her mom. Her brother Pierson, 3, doesn't remember a day without her. I was foolish to think that I had somehow jeopardized his childhood by bringing him a sibling so soon when the reality is, she was the miracle he also needed all along. Am I tired? Yes. Immensely. It feels like we are raising twins most days... A three year old and a two-year old...both able to run and walk, express their needs and wants, but both still needing us oh so much. Recently when they were both down for the night, I took a deep breath while I sat still for a moment, and this thought came into my mind:

You want the house to be spotless. The crumbs to disappear from the couch cushions and the endless missing toys shoved behind it, to only be put in their proper places. The dog hair never to be seen, the laundry washed and folded and the dishes to never be there in the sink. You want your mind to forget some of its' painful and hurtful past, for the anxieties of yesterday to not still be the anxieties of tomorrow. You want the energy of a child, the happiness and innocence. The dust to vanish and the hardwoods to shine. Or do you?... No. Not really! I want to embrace the moments and memories that surround me. To pick up the play doh bits happily off the floor and to smile when he's in bed and I find yet another Hot Wheel. To sigh when I find one of her princess's or the sippy cup she hid in the toy chest. I want to embrace it all, the laughter and joy, the pain and the regrets.

Sometimes we don't feel qualified. We are scared of the unknown and of the changes of the unpredictable future. But I don't for a second now doubt that my story was carefully woven by a beautiful plan. In those panic stricken moments, I wish I had just trusted. In the fear of my abilities, or the lack thereof, I wish I had believed in myself more. She is my calm and my fierce, my quiet soul and tiny dancer. She is my happiness and my chaos. My breath of fresh air and my safe haven. Put them together, and my children complete me. They have given me purpose and reason to truly believe, motherhood is a title I am so blessed to have been given.