Smug Marrieds & our 2 little chicks

Saturday, April 2, 2016

Quick and Easy Tom Ka Gai

*QUICK* Tom Ka Gai--Thai Coconut Chicken Soup

*Quick meaning it tastes like Tom Ka but I skipped some of the harder to find ingredients like the

galangal and kaffir lime leaves. But the flavor is pretty dang spot on.

2 TBS vegetable oil
2 boneless skinless chicken breasts, sliced into thin bite size pieces (frozen, or partially frozen are easier to slice)
1 cup fresh baby portobello mushrooms
3 green onions, sliced and divided greens and whites
1 inch fresh grated ginger root
1 tbs lemongrass puree (I found this in a tube in the produce section at Fresh Market)
1/4 tsp cayenne pepper or more for more spice
1/2 tsp turmeric
6 cups chicken stock
2 cans coconut milk
juice of 2 limes
1 TBS fish sauce
1 tsp sweet soy sauce
2 tsp brown sugar (maybe a little bit more)
cilantro

In a big soup pot brown sliced mushrooms in vegetable oil over medium heat, salting a little, stirring occasionally, for about 10 minutes. Remove. Add chicken to pan and cook until just white. Add mushrooms back in and ginger, lemongrass, whites of onions, cayenne pepper. Stir and cook for about a minute and then add coconut milk, chicken stock, lime juice, fish sauce, sweet soy sauce, turmeric and sugar. Bring to a simmer and let simmer for about 15 minutes. Check for flavor. If its too sour add a little more sugar (add enough sugar to brighten up the lime juice flavor). If not salty enough add more fish sauce. If not sour enough add more lime juice. If too hot add more coconut milk.

Serve over a scoop of jasmine rice and garnish with fresh cilantro and green onion slices.

Sunday, April 6, 2014

a sixth birthday.

Either deliriously happy or totally furious at the injustice of it all. Loves to craft, cook, create. Reads, adds, subtracts, and is a sweet friend at school. According to grandma she is just like me: wants to be involved in everything, can do everything herself, does it all on her own schedule and plan. She's the raddest six year old around. She makes my heart fill up and spill over.

Sunday, October 13, 2013

Sunday Drive: The Great Salt Lake

One child liked it slightly more than the other. The Skeptic and The Adventurer.

Sunday, September 22, 2013

Sunday Drive.

Took a beautiful and scenic drive today on the Alpine Loop. Windows down and hair blowin'. It was perfect.

Some photos from our middle-of-the-drive pitstop.

Sunday, May 19, 2013

Sunday Funday.

Do I blog anymore? No, I don't actually think that I do. Although the approaching end of a school year gets me feeling pensive and nostalgic. My girls have grown and changed so much this year.

First grade for Charlotte has been busy and exciting. She makes friends in a snap and has a contagious laugh and smile. I love to see her marching across the playground at the end of the day, best friend by her side, giant backpack bouncing up and down with every step, knobby knees, and skinny arms swinging. She's so miniature out there, and that gives me a second of hesitation, but school makes her feel happy and confident. She loves science and art and reads like a maniac, usually in the middle of three books at a time.

Victoria is wrapping up preschool, which has been a breeze. She is really well behaved, likes to accomplish her work, and likes to be independent. She is a good reader for a five year old, although it's hard to tell because she can hardly be bothered to sit down with someone bigger than she is to show off her skills. I'm always surprised at parent teacher conference at the things she knows and can do. She is a numbers girl. Loves to count, is great at addition and subtraction, and can even multiply a little. She is quietly competent and completely sure of herself. She never hesitates; she just goes.

Court and I are plugging along with our stuff. School and work for him, and a busy work schedule for me. But we're boring. Happy, but boring. So who wants to hear about us? (There is nobody I'd rather be boring with than Courtland, for the record.)

Here are some pictures from our family fun day today. We went to dinner and then the drizzly rain forced us to abandon our outdoor plans and stay in the car so I snapped pictures while Court (and sometimes Tori) looked at cars.

The City and County building. Lookin' like Hogwarts.

We spotted this old war plane in the sky. So cool.

This kid, having a rest in a restaurant booth.

Monday, December 17, 2012

In case you wanted to know what I think about pants.

My thoughts are all over the place on this topic and watching the drama unfold on Facebook has been all-consuming. I have wanted to sit at my computer and organize my thoughts but I keep hitting the delete key. There are too many.

Some people started a group, and they wanted to have a small event that would be meaningful to their feminist cause—the cause being gender inequalities in the Mormon church. They thought a good way to quietly call attention to some of these issues would be to wear pants to church on a chosen Sunday.

From their own statement:

“The creators of this event are feminists who recognize pants are a symbol of much larger issues that require addressing. This event is the first act of All Enlisted, a direct action group for Mormon women to advocate for equality within our faith. We do not seek to eradicate the differences between women and men, but we do want the LDS church and its members to acknowledge the similarities. We believe that much of the cultural, structural, and even doctrinal inequality that persists in the LDS church today stems from the church's reliance on – and enforcement of – rigid gender roles that bear no relationship to reality.

We subscribe to the Book of Mormon teaching that “all are alike unto God,” and hope that our choice to wear pants to our Sunday worship services (a choice sanctioned by our spiritual leaders over 40 years ago!) reminds our families, congregations, and leaders that we have not forgotten this gospel truth.”

I am too exhausted to even go over the issues. What the purpose was, what the purpose turned into, how huge this thing got. It’s gotten kind of murky, probably for everyone. It started out being not really about the pants, and then it really really wasn’t about the pants but about everything else. And also pants.

At this root of this event is my friend Stephanie. Maybe you've seen her on the news. This is a woman who is smart, passionate, compassionate, funny and who lives her life out loud. She is very open with her issues with Mormonism. She wants it to be a better safer place for women. If you think Stephanie is ridiculous then please head over to her blog and get to know her a little better. Start here. Me? I’m trying to forget the comment I read where someone said “If you want to follow this lady to hell then go right ahead.” REALLY?

So tonight I am distraught at the ugliness that has come out in the name of faith, religion, Christianity.

It is never okay to belittle people for having concerns and for taking action. Just because it isn’t important to you doesn’t mean it isn’t important. Just because you don’t get it doesn’t mean it is stupid. Just because you have never felt marginalized or less than in the Mormon religion doesn’t mean that others are wrong in the way they’ve experienced it. Telling these women that they need to find something better to do, that they need to shift their focus in a different direction, that there are more pressing issues—all of it is unproductive and unkind. And it doesn’t prove your point. It makes the general active population of the church look intolerant and pretty scary. I’ve seen people calling other people stupid. I’ve seen people telling other people that their self-esteem is too low. I’ve seen people called prideful. I’ve seen people call other people dramatic and attention seeking. I’ve seen many many people telling the Wear Pants people to leave the church because they are too weak and are just bringing the rest of them down.

There have even been death threats. "Activists should all be shot in the face. At point blank range." Charming! And wow, you are making your church look really awesome right about now!

This weekend I’m embarrassed to have anything to do with the Mormon church. That’s a bitter pill to swallow since it’s the only culture I’ve ever known. I’m not active in the church, but I have friends and family who are and I certainly will always feel a bit like a Mormon girl, even though I grew up to be a non-Mormon woman.

See I just got sidetracked and I stopped my writing to head over to Facebook and see what the latest comments were like on the Wear Pants to Church Day page. Here is what I found.

“This is all stupid…. Your whole scheme, the theatrics, the petty campaign you are running is just shameful.”

“May all who wear pants to Church today in a spirit of rebellion for some supposed grievance be excommunicated. We don't want rebellious Mormons within the Church, but God-fearing, obedient ones. All others can leave.”

Ugh. Back to gathering my thoughts.

I have left the church. It was the right thing for me. I have lots of friends who have found problems within the church but who desire to stay because they believe in it. If I were one of those kinds of people this is the message I would have received over this last week: There is no room for you in this church. Things will never change (even with the belief in continuing revelation). Get in line or get out completely. Your concerns are petty and unimportant. Who do you think you are?

Is there room in the church for everyone? If your heart and soul won’t let you conform then what choice do you have?

Clearly this whole debacle has put me in a very pensive state of mind. I’ve been a bit of a ticking time bomb and I might have yelled at my mom and sister when I thought they JUST DIDN’T GET IT. Sorry guys.

I have a strong desire in my heart for peace. A dear friend pointed out to me last week that I am a people pleaser. I was totally offended! I never would have considered myself a people pleaser and I was shocked she would tag me as one. She rephrased and said “You are a peacemaker. You want everyone to be comfortable, and you sacrifice yourself in the meantime.” It’s true. I feel injustices deeply. I hate to be misunderstood. I feel it deeply when people I care about are mistreated or misunderstood. I want to stand up for them, I talk about standing up for them, I obsess about standing up for them….. and then I rarely take action. I do this because I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings and I don’t want to have contention. I’m going to try to take a page from Stephanie’s book and be a little braver. I hope I can do it. Speaking up about pants right now is my first try.

Taking a deep breath.

Sunday, October 7, 2012

A little story.

Once upon a time I changed my life. It has been the best thing I’ve ever done and yet I keep it inside like a dirty secret. It makes me happy, and I want to talk about it. I am a little tired of being tender with other people’s feelings. I need to make room for my own.

Once upon a time a tiny seed of doubt showed itself in my heart and I looked at it for a while and talked about it a little with someone I thought might understand me and then I put it away. And I carried on with my life, following the path that I had been presented with but still trying hard to cling to the real me. I met someone who saw me for who I am and we had a friendship that quickly became a love story, and I loved him enough to keep ignoring the seed and to start our lives together and join our paths. I knew we were compatible, and I believe that subconsciously I knew we were compatible in even more ways. He accepted everything about me and our togetherness has always been easy and natural. I was scared of the way we were starting our life together and I yearned to say I do on a mountain top or a sunset beach but it was just the way I had always been taught it would happen and it seemed like it was what he wanted. And I wanted him. So I kept quiet and I went along and I said yes. I looked around me and everyone else was smiling and nodding, and I took that as confirmation and I tried to cling to it.

Years into our story the old seed started to grow. I had lost myself a little and I had to shut off a lot of myself in order to do the things I was supposed to do. And I just generally wasn’t feeling it. My light was dying a little every year. The seed grew into an obsession and I thought I must be crazy. Everyone around me believes these things, nobody else feels the doubt that I feel. I must be crazy. I prayed my guts out for an answer, for something that was really personal and identifiable, something to keep me on the prescribed path. And everything that was sent my way was telling me to leave the path. I was scared but I was so sure; more sure than ever.

At the age of 31, as the mother of two daughters and the wife of a funny and kind man, I found the strength somewhere within me to ask my questions out loud. And to step off the path to find my own. It was scary. It literally gave me panic attacks. I started grinding my teeth at night. I knew that people would believe that I was falling off the deep end, and I had to present the kindest and best version of myself always in order to prove them wrong. But I didn’t always feel kind and good as I was allowing myself to question and to process a lifetime of teachings and feeling a little ripped off about some things and a lot pissed off about others. And at the same time life became brighter and clearer, and the world bigger and smaller at the same time, and a lot less scary. It was like these extreme highs of peace and energy and excitement and then these crazy lows of sadness and grief and anger. But the new path fit better and the new path felt like freedom. And the new path has been discovered with my best friend and partner right by my side. We have had a million conversations that are interesting and mind bending and aggravating and touching and amazing. We have had epiphanies and realizations and we have grown closer.

So this is our new life. A life without religion. A life where our integrity is our religion and the thing we will have to answer for. People think we have fallen off the deep end. I’m pretending that doesn’t bother me. My motherhood has been called into question and people who I care about have kicked me emotionally in the name of concern for my salvation. They don’t know what they are doing; they think it is their duty. Maybe they are afraid of me or maybe they are afraid for me. I don’t know how to make them feel better about our choices. Everything I say sounds like a cheesy sales pitch and I wait for them to say “who is she trying to convince!” I know what they believe, I understand where they are coming from, and I totally totally get it. But really, we are good. We are good!

I have gathered around me a new sisterhood of like-minded friends and they have given me strength and support in navigating this new life. I have gathered my little family around me and we make plans and we continue doing the things we’ve always done and we feel more love and peace than we ever have before. I have my mom and my siblings, with whom I have been to hell and back and we are really just a bunch of rock stars. I have Court’s family, who are my own and I love them. I have friends I’ve had forever and a day and knowing that they love me no matter who or what I am makes me want to cry a big smiley cry. They listen to me, they laugh at me, and they’re always there. But mostly I have myself. I feel happy, capable, hopeful, and curious. I feel like me.

Life is good. No sales pitch needed.

Life is good.

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Dancers.

We had dance pictures today. I love putting mascara on my babies, but not in a Toddlers and Tiaras kind of way, don't worry. They have the eyelashes, man. Holy crap.

My kids were involved in a glass accident this last weekend, and if you know me then you know that is absolutely hands down one of my worst nightmares. We were at a new salon I was moving to and a giant glass door that Charlotte was sliding open burst and shattered and rained down onto my barefoot babies. They are fine, but Charlotte has cuts all over. Her arms are bandaged and she's got scabs on her head and a fine scratch down the center of her nose. And I am salonless and trying to figure out my life. What a mess. But I absolutely can't work there. Holy post traumatic stress.

Here are a few pics I snapped of my pretty girls today with their little faces made up.

Sailor and a sea dog.

Girl with a pearl earring.

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Mother Daughter Chit Chat.

I think a lot of my best mothering happens in the car. We stop and get a treat somewhere (snow cones tonight), we put on some songs (Nicki Minaj was on the radio), everyone has their own space, their own window to look out, and their own thoughts floating in their own brains.

Out of the blue Victoria piped up with this, "Mom, when you get mad at me, it makes my heart feel sad."

I got mad at Victoria today. Like hours and hours before. She wasn't listening, wasn't helping, wasn't obeying. SO. MUCH. WHINING. Eight hours later she was ready to talk about it.

I replied with zero attitude (surprised?), "You know what makes my heart sad? When my kids ignore me and don't help me. I also feel sad when you guys get sick or when you are hurt. I feel sad when you feel sad."

Charlotte's turn. "My heart feels happy right now because I have a snow cone."

I observed a conversation today about motherhood. I didn't participate, mostly because I couldn't 100% relate. A lot of my friends feel like the choice to become mothers was made for them by their culture. And not only the choice, but the timing too. That it was bumped up the timeline to be in front of careers and schooling and figuring out who the hell you are as your own individual adult person. Marriage and family first, individuation second (or maybe never at all). And now here they are with more kids than they thought possible and with so many confusing and contradictory feelings on the matter. Maybe they feel like they relinquished control over their lives in order to follow a certain plan. Maybe they feel like they got lost along the way. Maybe they don't know what they want to be when they grow up but they know that being a mother maybe wouldn't have been their first choice, but they didn't have the voice to say it before.

I have been thinking all day about why I don't think the choice to have these kids was made for me. I belong to a culture that basically believes in one certain kind of family. When I was a young teen and my family suddenly didn't fit the mold, I became a defensive member of the culture. A tiny wall came up, protecting my heart and my feelings about my family of origin from this ideal that didn't apply anymore. I still don't have it figured out, but I think something about this shift in my perception helped me slow the pace of my eventual family so that everything happened in a way that I really wouldn't change. I proceeded with caution, I proceeded with fear maybe, and I definitely followed my own timeline, mostly disregarding the typical Mormon life plan.

I did marry young--21. And I was horrified to do so. I had a nervous breakdown just about every single day of our six-month engagement. Court had to talk me off the ledge 100 times. I was afraid of marriage. I was afraid of temple marriage. I wanted him, and every evening when I saw his face I knew I wanted him and I just kept putting one foot in front of the other. I realized soon after we were married that being married is actually fun. It was an easy transition. Not too much to be afraid of.

We started having children seven and a half years later. Did we take our time because we were smart? Did we take our time because I was scared? I don't really know, but all that time between marriage and family gave me a chance to start this really fun career that I have. It's quite possibly just dumb luck and has nothing to do with some wise choice we made. I'll take dumb luck anytime I can get it.

So now I'm here with two young kids and a part-time career that feeds me socially and artistically and financially. I'm a sporadic housekeeper but I'm a good cook and I will always choose to do something fun with my kids over making sure the laundry is folded and the floor is swept. My schedule can feel hectic and my weeks fly by, but I usually feel like I'm maintaining some sort of a balance.

I guess I'm glad I have that feeling of defensiveness that started twenty or so years ago. It was a small crack in the mold and because of that I think my life turned out a little differently than a lot of my friends'. I felt prepared to have kids by the time they came around. I don't have feelings of resentment. Sure, they piss me off sometimes and I feel like they are picking on me and I yell at them more than I should, but I have these sweet little girl chats with them in the car where we talk about our feelings and we love each other so much I want to pull the car over and jump in the back seat and squeeze those little girls tight and give them a pinch on the buns.

They make me so happy. My prayer for them is that they'll know who they are. That it won't have a label predetermined by me or by Court or by a culture or a society. That they will choose schooling, choose friends, choose hobbies, choose partners, choose jobs, choose families using their own internal compasses. The world is your oyster, little girls.

Watching U2 on youtube with Daddy.

Saturday, April 7, 2012

Fairies dancing.

A new Easter dress can make you feel so amazing.

Monday, March 19, 2012

Not my day?

I'm thinking maybe I should have left Charlotte at school today.

As soon as she got in the car this afternoon she said "I want you to stop being funny Mom."

And then like 70 seconds later she said "Today Parker* said you're a jerk." It took me a minute to clarify if this kid was using "you" in a general sense and just calling random kindergarteners jerks, but no, it seems he has singled out me: Charlotte's mother. He says I'm a jerk because I wear dark sunglasses.

*Names have been changed. Because I'm not a jerk.

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Long workday.

Last night as I was wandering around the house getting ready for the next day I opened my schedule to see what I had ahead of me at work. Ten solid hours of clients. Ten! I immediately went into my kids' room where they were sound asleep and snuggled up to them for a minute. I kissed their squishy cheeks. I made sure their toes were covered. I hoped I would have time to hang out with them a little in the morning. I considered waking them up for one more pillow talk chat.

I think I've been working too much. I very rarely start a day of work feeling dread about missing what's going on at home. I know my children are very well taken care of by their grandparents. I know I'm a better mom because I take this time away to do something for me and something for other people. I love my job and I love my clients.

But man, I missed my kids like crazy today.

We had a family date at Sonic and then little girly hang out time at bedtime.

This little maniac wrote her entire name today for the first time. She might be a teensy bit stubborn and has been content with just the shortened "Tori." She certainly can't be coaxed by me to try something new, so things like this happen on her own time. Baby girl can write her big girl name. Complete with a "fancy V" copied from a decoration on her wall.

This chick loves to read. And I love to watch her big eyes scan the page. I love to quiz her with a "What did you just read on that page?" just to make sure she is really soaking it in. She is a serious reader, way ahead of herself on this skill. She tells me sometimes "I don't want to have kids," and I tell her that it's her choice. She can do whatever she wants. The whole world is hers and I know she'll choose thoughtfully, but tonight she says she doesn't want kids. Kids do make it a little tricky to have lots of quiet reading time.