In the Trenches With a Threenager

What in the blue blazin' does everyone mean when they say "The terrible two's are the hardest!"?!  Two, with both of my kids, was magical. I remember Pierson was beginning to verbalize his needs and wants so expressively, he began vocalizing his deep love for Mimi and Pa Pa and Uncle Nate in Michigan. He was friendly, sweet, obedient and our biggest challenge was trying to convince him that pooping on the potty didn't need to be terrifying. And here is Reese, a full time 'mommy' with her baby dolls, enthusiastic, hilarious and also SO obedient. Pierson wasn't yet trying to boss his little sis around when he was two, he wasn't overly whiney, his temper tantrums were just so so--life just wasn't all that hard.

Yet.

Enter three and a half.

When toys became boring. Nothing kept his attention. We told him no, and life as he knew it was over. Reese wasn't allowed to stare at him the 'wrong' way. He wanted to be alone, yet he didn't know how to be. He would go from mid- happy conversation to flat-out sobbing, hysterically. Giant tears flowed from his big brown doe eyes multiple times a day. Food became yucky. How dare us serve him Mac n' Cheese, his once favorite dish! Ice water instead of sprite? Oh no we DIDN'T!

Life. It just got hard. The trenches were deep and I wasn't sure that I would be able to climb my way out. Who was this kid? Where did my sweet baby boy GO? Was this going to be our life from now on? Were we going to permanently have a whiney, argumentative, moody child? There were too many days I got home from teaching (mind you, where I re-direct, repeat myself, and teach other children how to love and be respectful ALL day long), that I just felt like crying myself.

One in particular stands out to me:  I asked him and Reese to please sit on the couch on opposite ends and wait for me to look for the paint supplies he had been crying for. They had been trying to kill each other the moment I walked in the door, fighting for my undivided attention, wanting snack and after snack, and my heart was so tired after a strenuous day in the classroom. Neither child would obey me and finally, the last straw broke. I had sprinted to the basement to frantically find the paint things we hadn't used in months--

Reese! Don't DO that!!!!

Pitter patter, pitter patter...

Blood curdling SCREAM

"What?!?" I sprinted back UP the stairs. "Manny SCRATCHED me!" he wailed.
"Well if you hadn't gotten OFF the couch and angrily sprinted past Manny, he wouldn't have swatted at you!!" I angrily replied.

I could feel my blood beginning to boil. I was livid that Pierson disobediently got off the couch to tattle on his sister. I was mad at our moody cat for swatting at my son. I was so defeated that every day was becoming a battle for me to simply just survive. My toddler was winning and I, I was failing.

"GO to time-out." I said. But it wasn't to them; I was the one needing it. I sat myself in the yellow time-out chair and as tears started to roll down my face I counted to ten, like I instruct them to do. Slowly, I got up from the chair and walked into the living room, where both children were sitting on opposite ends of the couch. I sat between them and asked for forgiveness as I had lost my temper. I said a quick prayer out loud and asked for more strength, to give us joy this afternoon and to please help me learn how to deal with this new stage of life.

The ditch remained deep for quite some time. My husband suggested I take Pierson on a date, just the two of us, because I needed to learn how to love him again. It wasn't that I didn't adore my child, but wait... it kind of was. I didn't know who he was, what I was missing, how to help him be consistently happy again. I could feel my confidence slipping, I began to doubt my ability to Mother this three-year old.

And then one day, a couple of months later, the sun broke through. The cobwebs were cleaned from my eyes, the haze of dust I was squinting through completely cleared. My once happy and carefree boy was himself. His laughter was contagious, his smile more beautiful. The tears lessened and I started to hear a lot of: "Okay, Mom," and "Sure, Mom," and "I love you, Mom." Medicine to my soul, a warm cup of tea to my icy heart. His voice was rich with a newfound maturity, and I recognized the kid that I had birthed three years prior.

There was no magic pill, no innovative toy that he fell in love with, no specific discipline--he just snapped out of it. I prayed for patience, daily (okay, hourly). I had to work extra hard to come down to his level and speak rationally and loving, all the while firmly. I was the one he was looking to when his emotions were hay-wired, I couldn't be emotionally unstable too. One night recently, my husband and I talked about the drastic changes Pierson had gone through and he said, "We have to remember when Reese turns three, this was just a phase."

Just a phase. Have you noticed how every sleep regression, every food avoidance, every thing we as moms tend to deem tragic--is all temporary?  For almost two months I didn't really think I could climb myself out of the hole of frustration I had fallen into. But my son helped remind me that though the three-isms are really stinken hard, this too is quite a magical age. At the end of the day, Pierson was still Pierson. Whatever season and phase he enters, I know the HEART of this young boy will stay consistently loving.

Being in the trenches with a threenager is sometimes beyond trying, but hang on tight because I promise that ALL of you will climb to the top bigger, stronger and more loving then ever.

Chewy Chocolate Chip + Oatmeal Raisin Cookies

Listen- I am fully aware of how easy it is to pull out our Smartphones and do a speedy search for literally any recipe we could imagine wanting. But what happened to good ol' fashioned cook books?! The ones you want to set out for display because the covers are just that pretty. With the crisp white pages, revealing proof of delicious meals. Well, we have a few... but they've been packed away for way too long to admit publicly. We haven't needed a cookbook with the Internet at our fingertips and I too, am the 21st Century Mom who Googles (or Pins) anything I "need." So what...?? Just grab your phone,  open your Pinterest app and search: "easy chocolate chip cookie recipe." Bam--hundreds of options lay at your fingertips. Click the link, scroll, and voila!

But I've missed pretty cookbooks. I had some money left over on an Anthropologie gift card and browsed for a while, searching all their beautiful (and out of my price range) home goods. Then I got to their Book section and saw exactly what I wanted: a baking cookbook, with a cover SO pretty I swear you could eat it. You all know my husband is a self-taught Chef. We don't desire to eat out very often because when we DO, I usually say something like, "Your meals are better," or, "You could do better than that." But I don't cook! Baking is my Sunday afternoon therapy and while the kids are asleep, there's almost nothing I would rather be doing! (Well... except maybe eating whatever it is that's in the mixing bowl!) Today was nothing less. It has been a few weeks since I found something I had the time and energy to bake. If you follow me on Instagram, maybe you saw my brownie post where I followed a recipe from Handmade Baking, by Kamran Siddiqi, well that was two weeks too long ago. Those brownies were from my Anthro book find, a gift to myself, and I am SO glad for the purchase. Last year, pies were my thing, a new pie each month; but this year I claimed cookies. A new cookie recipe a month. I flipped through this sturdy new baking book and found exactly what my taste buds were craving--chewy oatmeal-raisin cookies.

I'm not a huge fan of raisins by themselves, but give me the right cookie and I absolutely love them. I adapted Kamran's recipe a little; for one, I added chocolate chips because this girl always needs them in homemade cookies. And I didn't top them with cinnamon-sugar like he does because I just didn't have enough time. Mine turned out divine so gosh, I can only fathom had I taken that next step!

Pierson of course wanted to help me this afternoon. So I measured the ingredients that we needed and I let him pour each one into the mixing bowl while I read the recipe. Reese wanted to join (aka sneak some dough) and was super cute trying her best to sit still and not dump egg shells and oats all over the floor.

Adapted Ingredients:
1/2 C granulated sugar
1.5 C all-purpose flour
3/4 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 C at-room-temperature butter
1 C packed light brown sugar
2 large eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract
3 C rolled oats
1 C raisins
1 C semi-sweet chocolate chips

Directions:
1. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, cinnamon, baking soda and salt. Set aside.
2. In a large bowl with a paddle attachment, beat together butter, brown sugar and granulated sugar until pale and creamy.
3. Turn off mixer, scrape sides and on low speed, beat in the eggs and vanilla. Mix until well incorporated.
4. Add the flour mixture and mix until just combined. Still on low speed, add the oats, raisins and chocolate chips until just combined.
5. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and refrigerate for an hour or until dough is firm.
6. Preheat the oven to 350° and line two cookie sheets with parchment paper.
7. Drop rounded 1 TBSP portions of dough onto the prepared sheets
8. Bake for 10-13 minutes (I baked mine nine).
9. Let the cookies bake a minute longer on the pans once pulled from the oven and then transfer to a cooling rack.
10. Pour yourself a giant glass of milk and enjoy yourself a (or five) soft and chewy chocolate chip, oatmeal raisin cookies!

When the Bakery is Closed, Make Your OWN! (Homemade Mini Donuts)

For the past three and a half years we've been super blessed with in-OUR-home childcare, but all of our regular sitters are growing up and had to cut back their days and hours for more classes or because they are starting their careers.  So this semester we have had THE hardest time finding regular helpers the days that we need them-- today was one of those days so I took the day off to be with the kiddos. (I'm not complaining too much about this, my heart is at my home with my babies, always!) Well this morning, I saw that storms were expected pretty much 90% of the day and I wanted to do something special with them. We have a new bakery just a couple blocks away from us so I thought, Hey, let's walk to the bakery! We've driven in the past but the kids could use the fresh air and maybe it'll tire them out for a better nap. (PS. It didn't. They both only slept an hour. What can do you do). 

My sweet two and three-year-old walked for twenty minutes, jumping over mud puddles, talking about the different kinds of donuts they were going to enjoy. Reese wanted sprinkles and Pierson was craving chocolate. Every other crack in the sidewalk they asked, "Is that the bakery? Are we there yet?" Just keep walking, I told them. Finally, we arrived and to my dismay, the blinds were all closed and the sign on the door read, Tuesday: Closed. I kid you not, the two of them sat down on the sidewalk and whimpered for several minutes; to them of course they felt they had just walked for hours and the reward was going to be a donut. I had to find a way to lure them back the same way we came, without having to switch off carrying them both (they are getting SO BIG!) Then I remembered: we have a mini donut maker at the house! Pierson and Reese, I excitedly said. We have a donut maker at home, I think we can make our own donuts!  It worked (for the most part. I still had to carry them on and off several times but at least I didn't have crying toddlers!)

We enjoyed a short pit-stop at the playground and then once home, I quickly googled "easy donut maker recipe without a cake mix." Baker Bettie's website came up and she had what looked like a fairly easy (and kid friendly) recipe. I let the kids watch an episode of Curious George (thank you, Netflix) and got busy in the kitchen getting out the ingredients we needed--luckily we had them all.

Ingredients: For Donuts
5 TBSP unsalted butter, softened
½ cup sugar
1 egg
½ cup milk
1 tsp vanilla
2 tsp baking powder
pinch salt
1½ cups all-purpose flour
Ingredients: For the Topping
¼ cup butter, melted
¼ cup sugar
½ tsp cinnamon

Once I had all of this out and ready it was super easy to call the kids into the kitchen to have their 'help.' Pierson pulls over a yellow step-stool and dumps the ingredients as needed and also can turn on the standing mixer. Reese climbs ON to the counter and watches, handing me measuring cups or the ingredients we need next. Here are the directions:

1. In a standing mixer, cream together the butter and sugar until fluffy. Add the egg, milk, and vanilla and mix until just combined (mixture will look curdled).
2. Add in the baking powder and the salt and mix until just incorporated. Mix in the flour just until combined. You don’t want to over-mix.
3. Turn on the mini donut maker and spray it generously with cooking spray
4. Spoon big drops into the donut maker and allow them to bake 3-4 minutes (or in my case, until the green light came on telling me "ready." Allow to cool just slightly before dipping in topping.
5. Melt the butter for the topping and combine the cinnamon and sugar. Dip each donut lightly in butter then roll in cinnamon and sugar.

The original recipe says it made thirty mini donuts-- I'm not sure what I did differently or if my donut maker is just a different size, but my batch did NOT turn out to be thirty. When the donuts came out of the maker, they were a dark brown and super soft. I dipped them into the cinnamon mixture and told the kids they could enjoy them after they ate their lunch. I prepared a little spot for them at the table and they were so excited for this sweet treat!

Next time I try to haul the kids to our neighborhood bakery I will definitely be checking online to see if they are OPEN or not, but this morning still turned out to be such a sweet one- literally! My kids are always inspiring me to try new things and I think our first time baking our own donuts turned out to be quite the success. I hope you enjoy them as much as we will!

Chapter One: We Should be Friends

Photo by Aubrey Renee

I am not a love expert and actually am pretty far from it. I was never the girl who had it all together when it came to relationships and guess what--in my seven years of marriage I still don't have it all together! What I do know though, is that a story like this one is absolutely worth reading.

 If you had told eighteen-year-old Ashley that she would be married in two short years, she would have straight laughed in your face. My freshman year of college brought me heart-ache, disappointment, unsafe situations, unpredictable bosses and all of those things just proved to me that marriage was not something I felt called to. I wasn't the Christian girl who prayed for her future spouse and her hypothetical children. I didn't pray for his purity or his heart because honestly, I didn't trust too much that he was out there. At one point before I moved out of my Michigan home, my mom and Grandma suggested to me that I may need to learn to cook just in case I did get married someday. "No I don't," I responded. "God knows the desires of my heart." And guess what? God did. I wasn't concerned with cooking for a man or him cooking for me; if I had to eat cereal and Easy Mac every night, I was going to college and would celebrate my independence.

For as long as I can remember, I wanted to be with someone. I've been a hopeless romantic since I was a little boy, claiming that I would marry my mother and live with her forever. It was no big secret. I spent most of my teenage years falling hard and fast for different girls. Some relationships were certainly better than others, each one was important in my growth as a man. To be fair and honest, I learned the hard way that I was needy and clingy. I wanted so desperately to be in a romance like you see in the movies, to be with my forever love and to live out our happily ever after. I am positive along the way that I creeped more than a few girls out. Truth be told, I've thought about emailing an apology to them, but even that sounds creepy. I hope they have chalked my exuberance for love up to being immature.

After my heart had fallen, broken, repaired and fallen more times than I really can remember, I started writing in a journal. It wasn't a fancy handmade leather bound journal, but I thought it was pretty.  This journal was the outlet my heart needed. I wrote love letters and notes to my future wife. I told her that I was praying for her, and day dreamed about lazy snow days together, and the exciting trips we would take. I speculated where we would meet, and hoped that where she was, she was happy. I used this as a journal to temper what I was saying to my girlfriend (whomever she was at that time) so that I could try to hide the fact that since I was eleven-years old, all I ever wanted was a wife.

I entered Sunergos Coffee Shop on Preston Street one crisp morning in October of 2007. I wore black gaucho pants (I am so glad those went out of style, but then again maybe they weren't ever even IN style...??) and a black and white striped tee. I had a speech that morning to give that was worth a doozy of my overall grade, three finals and a ginormous paper due that wasn't quite yet complete. With my arms piled high with textbooks and a laptop (I was the weird one who has never carried a bag, or at least a useful bag), the Barista offered me a free cup of coffee. He began making casual conversation, smiling a lot, and when I told him the giant workload that welcomed me that day, he said, "I hope you have someone at home who can rub your shoulders at the end of all this!" I smiled and without really thinking twice, said, "We should be friends." I sat down, chugged my cup of Joe and went on my way. Little did I know, those four words would be the most important thing I said all day.

During my undergrad, I worked the morning shift at Sunergos Coffee. I had to be at work at 6:00 AM to open, and lived a good twenty minutes away. So naturally I woke up every day at 5:45. I loved working there. Let's be honest, everyone coming through the shop at that hour needed the drug I was serving, and so they were all really friendly. I knew most of them by name, all of them by their cup of coffee. On October 4th, 2007, someone new walked into the shop. She was blonde, gorgeous, carrying a huge stack of books and went straight to a table where Pastor Tim (Coffee, Room for Cream) was sitting and started talking to him. I knew Pastor Tim, and I knew this girl was beautiful, so I did what any hopeless romantic would do: I flirted shamelessly and unabashedly. I'm not even sorry.

"You look like you have quite the day with all those books, your coffee is on me." As I started making her a Café Miele, I asked her about the day. She was describing to me the tests and speeches and papers that were ahead and that she needed a place to get some work done. I remember saying "I sure hope you have someone to rub your shoulders tonight after all this." I was testing the boyfriend waters. She said, "We should be friends. I live with Jill, but I don't think she'll rub them." (Jill, Peach White Tea, keep the leaves for a second steep).  "We should be friends, I'm Asa".

I left Ashley alone to study. I didn't want to be any more forward. I knew how to reach out to her if I wanted. Pastor Tim and Jill I saw every day. I'm very sure I was much happier and friendlier with everyone else who came in the shop that morning. I was hoping Ashley would take note of my good nature- Hoping she would want to talk some more. She didn't. She had work to do. She brought me the empty mug and thanked me for her coffee, and I watched her leave. I finished my shift wondering if and when I would see her again.

Later that evening, I attended a Cru event (Campus Crusade for Christ) and I just started to crash- emotionally, mentally and spiritually. I was tired. I hardly slept the night before but I thought, Hey, this will rejuvenate me and I'll feel so much more rested. Five minutes in, I was ready to walk out. The topic was marriage and the guest speaker was talking about how college was such a great place to meet your future spouse, especially in ministries and events such as the one we were in. Whatever else he said apparently royally offended me and struck a nerve because I walked out sobbing hysterically. That night on my drive back to my house I called my mom in tears. "It was stupid, Mom. I didn't come here to find my husband. I especially didn't enroll in college to find one. I came to pursue horses, get an education, and stand on my own two feet. I just don't get it--what is the BIG deal?! Besides, if I ever get married, which I won't, it will be to someone like the man I met today at the coffee shop."

It was so late, and was probably even crossing into early morning, but I (like most college kids) wanted to check Facebook.  I stooped a pot of tea, washed my face with hot water and changed into comfy clothes (my love language to myself). Opening my laptop, I decided to search. How did I find him? I have NO idea, because I don't remember us exchanging names, and surely not first and last names? But with a name like Asa, perhaps I searched all the Asa's local to Louisville and I recognized his face immediately. Not in the mood to 'friend' him, after all, he had only given me a cup of coffee and we had only just met; I messaged him instead. "Thanks for the cup of coffee," I wrote. "It really helped me get through my day." I remember closing my eyes that night, wondering why my heart skipped a little beat at the thought of him messaging me back.

Then I had an idea: (This is why I owe a lot of girls an apology for being creepy...But again, still pretty sure that's a creepy thing to do.) Ashley told me she had a Biology mid-term and a speech to give for her Communications class. I knew the school of Natural Sciences and the Communications building were just across the street from each other. So I went and found a bench in between them to "read" and get "fresh air". I waited on that bench for longer than I care to admit hoping to see her. I went to the coffee shop on campus hoping she was there getting refueled. And I left campus, not sure if I would ever really see this girl again.
Defeated, I went home. I'm sure I buried myself in homework, TV, or any other number of distractions. The hard part about hiding is that you can't escape your own head. And I couldn't stop thinking about the Blonde in the white and black striped shirt. I couldn't stop hoping she had been successful with her tests and speech; wondering if she was happy and finding some rest at the end of this long day. I prayed for her, prayed that despite the stress of life that she would have peace, and a reason to smile. And just as I was climbing into bed I got a Facebook message. "Thank you for the cup of coffee". And I knew it was time to fall one last time.