Merry Christmas To All- Part 2 :)

Merry Christmas!!!

(I know I was going to be quiet, but I just thought this shot was HILARIOUS! Couldn't really even tell you why- something about the chub, the extra-stretchy tights, or the need for thumb-sucking comfort. :)


Visiting 'Zoo Lights' at Hogle Zoo- surprisingly cold, but also a LOT of fun.


Reese and Daddy decorating the tree- we found she had quite a natural talent for it and throughout the next week we found most of her Fisher Price animals tucked into the branches.


Showing off her pretty Holiday outfit- complete with loot from her raid of Mom's jewelry box.

A fun visit from Uncle Justin and Aunt Erin



Spending Christmas Eve with Mese, Kyle, and Lily
(Yes, Melese and I both decided to cut ourselves bangs that day. :)


We were officially broken-in as parents when we put together this cute little kitchen that Ryan's parents sent for Reese. I had never seen so many tiny little plastic parts in my life!
I have a new respect for my parents when I think of all the Barbie vacation, hair salon, grocery store sets we received. :)


Almost three hours later, here I am, a regular Vanna White, showing off our handiwork. What in the world will we do when we actually have more than one child?! Oh, la la!


Christmas Morning!!!

Ryan's baklava (sp?)- a must for skiing and snowshoeing!


Opening up presents


Reese posing with her Potato Head



Here's Ryan "teaching" Reese the possibilities the Silly Suitcase holds- I think he had more fun than she did!



We started a few new traditions this year-

reading a new Christmas picture book together every night until the big day,
a Christmas Eve "dipping dinner"
making scones for Christmas Morning breakfast,
And for the first time feeling like real parents as WE read the Christmas story and stayed up late putting presents together.

So so much fun!

Merry Christmas To All!

So, here's our 2009 Christmas card. A bit of whimsy mixed the usual holiday wishes. If you're looking for someone to do your own this year we know of a few incredibly talented photographers who have a whole slew (yes, that's right, a slew) of templates for you to choose from after the pretty pics have been snapped!

lemonpeelstudios.blogspot.com


PS- I realize that I have been all too silent over the last month or so, but I fully intend to remedy that over the next week. Upcoming titles include:

"Oh, how a past life in crime would come in handy right about now!"
"Fourteen stairs and two pairs of eyeglasses later"
and
"The Girl who ate Yellow Snow"

You won't want to miss them!

Reluctant Pray-ers

Does it mean you're a bad mother if your child refuses to pray?

Ok, don't answer that.

But seriously, Ryan and I finally ended up in a fit of laughter the other night because we often hear these adorable stories of kids muttering their own sweet little prayers at the sage age of six months or informing busy parents of the true meaning of life when they hit age three. And then there's Reese, who has always been her own little person from the very start. Before dinner last night-like every other night- she had this discussion with Ryan--

"Good job folding your arms, Reesey. Would you like to say the prayer?"

"No."

"Daddy can help you. . ."

"No!"

"But why don't we just--"

"No No NO NO NO NO NO NO!" Shaking her head, and waggling her finger in Daddy's face. Fortunately, once Daddy suggested Mommy say it, she smiled like a little angel and promptly folded her arms.

I swear we're good people! All I can figure is she's just a very sweet, very spunky, I'm-doing-it-'cause-I-want-to-not-because-you-told-me-to kind of girl.

Parenthood just never plays out like you think it will.

Bacon-faced Badger

This morning I cooked bacon in the oven- a bit for Reese and Ryan for breakfast, and a bit more for something I was making later for dinner. I thought that I'd cook it now so it would be all ready to crumble later without the hassle of cooking again. Once it was done I put it on paper towels on a plate on the counter to cool before sticking it in the fridge. I then set to work on some relief society 'to-do's'.

Anyway, there I am, clicking away on the laptop, consumed by the new contact list I am working on when I suddenly notice that the room has grown silent. . . and there is. . . munching in the kitchen. I turn around and there is Reese, a fistful of bacon in each hand, snacking away as she watches the last of a Disney movie, happy as a clam.

Without me noticing, she had pushed a chair over to the counter and helped herself to the pile. When she saw me staring at her, she froze for a moment and then promptly stuffed the remaining two or three pieces into her cheeks and chomped away before I could pry them out. The air was thick with guilt, but I suppose that, like the crazy dog in that old Beggin' Strips commercial, the scent was just too much and she couldn't help her shameless thievery. The look on her round little face read, 'It's mine- mine! You can't have it, and there's nothin' you can do about it now!'

When I looked at the plate I found only two lonely pieces sitting there- she had polished off something like 6 or so before I caught her!!! Good grief!! So much for healthy eating-- or planning ahead.

Ryan laughed so hard he fell over when I told him about it.

Photo Catch-up!

Eating snacks at Reese's 'End of Summer Pool Party' put on by her nursery, soon after she decided to take a dip in the deep end- like mother, like daughter I guess.

Reese loves balloons, and since yellow is her favorite color I wasn't surprised that after getting it from Macey's the other day, she took it everywhere in the yard as she dug and played.

Sporting one of her Aunt's childhood outfits- (sorry guys, I don't know which one of you!) unfortunately, our little baby has a much larger head. :)

The turkey I made for Ryan's Thanksgiving Birthday dinner. I was pretty proud of it.

Reese LOVES being big and now takes it as an insult when I put her in her carseat instead of letting her sit up front with me.

Twin Bedheads-
and somehow I've been wondering where in the world she got her crazy hair?!

Taking her best friends on a short hike.

Caught trying on Momma's bracelets- I love this shot!

Listening to some tunes with Aunt Mae-Mae

So there's the latest and greatest- as always, almost everything we do revolves around our Little Miss Muffet, which is just the way she likes it. I can't believe how much she is growing up, and how fast it's coming!

Fall is Fantastique!

I decided that the easiest way to catch up on the last while would be to tell you a few reasons why it is so incredibly wonderful to have a 2-year-old in the Fall--


First teaching how, and then spending hours tromping and kicking through the fallen leaves in our driveway.

Blowing the last of the dandilions into the wind, and watching Reese lick the stray fluffs that stick to her lips and then pronouncing them, "Yummy!"

Taking time to examine rolly-pollies (a.k.a. potato bugs)

Screaming, knocking things over and eventually killing GI-NORMOUS spiders that find their way into our house and then watching Reese mimic all of my actions the next day (AHH! Mama- isss a SPIDE!) and then proceeding to whollop her own imaginary intruders.

Collecting chestnuts from the ground to give Melese and Kyle each morning before our workout

Eskimo kisses- lots and lots and lots of Eskimo kisses.

Pretending to be 'ghosties' chasing each other around the house


Basically, I just feel like a big kid again, which is tons of fun. So with all the stress and increasingly frazzled nerves I'm acquiring as the mommy of a very active two-year-old, I'm delighted to report that I'm also extremely happy and have never enjoyed life more!

Nothing like a hyper toddler to remind you that life is not a never-ending list of to-do's, but actually the most awe-inspiring, purely blissful journey we'll ever take!

Wow.

I was totally surprised by the number of comments on that last post-- nothing like a little 'poop talk' to get the conversation rolling, huh?

But seriously, thanks so much for all the suggestions and sympathies. Great to know we aren't the first to deal with this mess. :) And I'm REALLY excited to have a few new ideas to try out!

Thanks a million!

Are you SURE this is Noble?

That's right, I'm talking about Motherhood.

It's been a crazy weekend. But let me give you some background. Reese likes to take her diaper off. A lot. Mostly when she's supposed to be sleeping, luckily so far the damage has been minimal.

But it finally happened. After a weekend bout with the stomach flu (complete with the sudden crying in the middle of the night and going in to find her an absolute mess after throwing up on herself), yesterday Reese joined the hundreds of kids that, up until yesterday I thought parents were making up in order to get sympathy, ripped off her diaper and decided to paint her Poopy Picasso all over the wall.

Why?


No, seriously-- W H Y ? ! ! !


Dis-gus-TING! There just isn't anything more to say on that except that my sister's two-week-old is looking pretty good right now- sleep deprivation and all! I wonder if she'd be up for a trade? ;) Ryan and I have been flirting with the idea of duct-taping her (Reese- not Lily) into her diaper before all naps. Is that cruel and unusual punishment? :)

Hilarious Breakup

I know I've been talking an awful lot about zucchini lately, but I was just looking through a few fun food blogs, and happened upon this 'breakup letter'. It got me laughing so hard, that I thought surely there were more than a few of you who could relate with my friend 'Cream Puff'. For what to do with your lingering zucchini and other great recipes, check out her blog at:

http://www.creampuffsinvenice.ca/

Dear Zucchini,

I’m sorry to have to do this to you in such a public manner, but you leave me no choice.
I have tried to let you down gently, but you just don’t seem to be getting the message. At first, I thought that if I just ignored you, you’d understand. But you didn’t. I tried leaving you in the refrigerator, but you insisted. I withheld water, but you kept coming. I even left you for three whole weeks, without any contact, and still you were there.

I don’t know any other way to do this but to send you this letter in the hopes that you will finally hear what I’m saying:

It’s over.

Yes, it’s true, things were great in the beginning. You were so fresh and green, the only plant thriving in a garden of that had, up until that point, been bare.
You were sweet, Zucchini. You were. You were always waiting for me when I got home from work and on weekends, you filled me.
I don’t deny it.

But Zucchini, you’re too much. You don’t know when to stop. You put too much pressure on me. You, I could handle. But then your family started arriving, and your extended family, and your friends … what was I supposed to do with all of you?

Look, I thought that going to Italy for three weeks would be the answer. I thought that during that time, left alone to your own devices (and no water), you’d understand that you couldn’t crowd my space.

How was I supposed to know that it would rain for the entire summer? How was I supposed to know that while the rest of the garden slowly began its inevitable decline, you would still be inviting your zucchini relatives over? How was I supposed to know you’d live so long?

Please don’t take this the wrong way. I will always think you’re beautiful and there will always be a part of me that loves you.

But right now, it’s all about the tomatoes. They’re plump and juicy.
You’re not.

Goodbye, Zucchini. It was fun while it lasted. Call me next summer. Maybe we can hook up again.


Yours truly,

Cream Puff

The newest member of the Spaulding Clan!

For those of you who may not have known, Mese and Kyle finally had their baby which means that, besides the fact that there is that much more joy in the world and an adorable little girl named Lily, they get to come HOME! I'm super excited about that, cause, well. . . I love them. :)

Check out their pics at www.millershoutout.blogspot.com

Death of a Cuisinart: A Tragedy in Two Acts

Curse the Zucchini!!!!!!!

If any of you read my post from a few days ago, you will no doubt find humor in the continuing saga. Today I picked a few more zucchini from Melese's garden and brought them home, adding to the pile in the bottom of my fridge. With freshly purchased freezer bags I'd planned to grate a frenzy of squash and, like a good chipmunk, store it away for the winter months when zucchini bread cravings hit hardest.

When it comes to almost everything in the kitchen, I'm a food processor girl. A passionate one who has an absolute infatuation with her machine. The cruel irony is that as I began work on the mountain of cut zucchini I thought to myself that what today needed was a "Tribute to My Food Processor"; it's such a marvellous machine it seemed only right to honor it with a poem for taking minutes to do what once took hours.

Well, here I am, grating away and noticing that either the peel on the zucchini was particularly tough, or there was something wrong with my motor. To be honest, it's been acting a little funny lately, but still it was odd so I decided to give it a rest while I continued cutting and seeding the rest of the pile. Fifteen minutes later, I loaded it up again and again it labored to even grate the first inch or so of the piece. I pushed a little harder to give it something to grip onto and then it happened; I caught a whiff of something burning. When I pulled it all apart, plastic had melted and fused to the bowl in a big white, marshmallow-creamy clump. Thus, the end of my beloved food processor!

I must be flying through the stages grief rapidly because I've already experienced,

Shock & Denial-- "No! This can't be happening! You're fine, you're FINE! . . . Right?"

Pain & Guilt-- "But I NEED you! It's all my fault- I should have let you rest longer and cleaned your motor better! Oh how can I live with myself?!"

Anger & Bartering-- "Stupid Zucchini! You broke my machine with your cursed leathery skin and pulpy interior! I promise I'll never grate again if you'll only come back!"

Depression, Reflection, & Loneliness-- " I miss you. We used to make scones together- that perfect, flaky dough, and now. . . well, those days are all gone."


So far that's where I'm at. But I'm looking forward to the last three stages: Looking Upward, Reconstruction & Working Through, and finally, Acceptance and Hope.


Maybe I'll just skip to the end and start looking online for a bettter, larger capacity, twenty-year warrantied replacement. Maybe shopping will help with grief. Besides, I can't bring myself to go back into the kitchen and clean it all up yet.

Life in Montana

So lately I've had people ask me "how was Montana?" which is a great question but hard to summarize in a normal conversation so I'm going to essentially spew the last three months of our lives onto all our loyal readers, who may be very few now given that last bit of imagery. This is Ryan by the way, granted I'm not the normal writer of blogs for our little clan but, things change. So...on to the spewing.
This last summer in Montana I:
Took the oath of office for a government employee,
got to wear a uniform and a badge every day (Molly thought I looked hot),
I grew a goatee (still mourning the loss of that),
I learned how to make fire with flint and steel and I'm more proficient with that than a match anymore,
I made 16 feet of 1/4 inch rope out of milkweed,
I caught 10 large crayfish (crawdads depending on where you're from) and about 30 small ones,
I learned how to use a model 1803 Harpers Ferry muzzle-loading, flintlock, black powder rifle,
I watched snakes, eagles, deer, marmots, rabbits, mice, prairie dogs, antelope, and bats at a very close range (too close sometimes with the snakes and bats),

I lost 25 pounds,

I went to a primitive buffalo jump and climbed to the top with my wife and daughter,
saw the movie "UP" (well worth it),
I made four fifteen minute programs, and three "station programs" about the Lewis and Clark Expedition and wowed people from all over the world with them,
I went to Glacier National Park twice and saw the breath-taking views of the Going to the Sun Road,
I went to Yellowstone with my beautiful wife and hiked in the Lamar Valley (life long dream),
I lived in a beautiful home next to the incredible Missouri River,
I learned how to use a sextant (it's a navigational tool),
I ate roasted bison in a Lewis and Clark re-enactment camp,
I learned how to put up a tipi,
I made amazing friends (both with the seasonal staff, regular staff, and the volunteers,
I learned how to tell a good story,
I learned about new cultures,
I went to Fort Benton (the birth place of Montana),
I traveled up the Missouri River through the Gates of the Mountains and by Fields Gulch,
I saw pictographs that are centuries old,
I worked at the best Lewis and Clark Museum in the country,
I met Gary Moulton (The editor of the Lewis and Clark Journals, the L&C guru),
I got the Biddle Edition of the Lewis and Clark Journals,
I followed the Portage Route (if you're still reading and interested ask me),
I dressed like John Colter and Meriwether Lewis,
I literally walked in the footsteps of the Corps of Discovery,
I had the time of my life.
So there you go, that's how Montana was these last three months, if you want any further details, and I can't imagine you would :), let me know I have plenty of good stories.

A Zucchini Story

When I was about 13 years old, my mother threw a bridal shower for my cousin. Anxious to be involved in 'grown-up stuff', I begged to help bake. She put me in charge of a cherry cheesecake- not the real kind, the type made with cream cheese and Dreamwhip and canned pie cherries that, to this day, I still can't get enough of. Colaborating with my best friend and little sister, I measured and mixed and ended up with a beautiful 9x13 pan of ruby-red heaven. At least it was heaven until one of us looked at the recipe and realized that we were supposed to bake the graham cracker crust before layering the other ingredients. Oh, horror.

Today I know it was a trivial detail, but I suppose circumstances and early teen drama being what it was, we were soon convinced our only option was to make a new one and destroy the evidence. The fact that we were dying for a taste of our favorite treat had no effect on the decision, I'm sure (wink). And to top it all off, we discovered that my grandma would be dropping by to visit in a mere 15 minutes. What to do, what to do?!

Well, we ate it. We ate the whole thing in 15 minutes flat. Imagination got the better of us and before we knew it, we were living the tragic lives of poor children who would surely be severely punished for their monumental mistake. Grandma was coming and was sure to lower the axe, so what choice did we have?

The first few frenzied bites were divine, and we smiled in our rush to put fork to mouth. Halfway through the pan, we were feeling slightly queasy, but still prepared to take one for the team. Needless to say, by the last bite none of us wanted to see another cheesecake for a very, very long time. I'm pretty sure my mom was astonished when we turned down her offer for an extra large serving of dessert at the shower for helping.

So what does this all have to do with ZUCCHINI? I promise you the title is not false advertising. Today I stopped by the same sister's house to pick her insanely-thriving zucchini since she's out of town. I decided to swing by on my way home from a morning jog, so I was wearing worn-out long shorts and a (now) sweaty t-shirt, messy hair, etc. I didn't look too pretty. As I struggled with the first monster, I was mildly aware that they, for reasons unknown and clearly not thought out, had planted the zucchini in the middle of several rose bushes.

I carefully planted my feet in the midst of the foliage and started on another. I twisted and pulled and could not get the thing to come off. At the same moment I became suddenly aware of the fact that no one in her apartment building knows me, and, in my present ragamuffin state, might take me for a vegetable thief. And, just as I let my imagination run wild with the cheesecake incident, I somehow did the same thing at this possible mis-perception: I was sure someone was watching me in horror from the window, making off with the goods from some poor soul's garden!

Ridiculous as it is, I panicked and tried to run away (much like a vegetable thief, I must observe), but since my feet were placed weird, I turned and fell RIGHT into the rose bushes with all their wicked thorns. Startled, and slightly wounded, I limped out of the garden carrying several club-sized squash and a fair amount of thorns embedded in each thigh. Luckily no one spotted me, and I nonchallantly plucked the thorns from my shorts, tucked a stray whisp of hair behind my ear, and made my way home with the booty.

An over-active imagination can be a painful thing to have.

Basics

I don't know if it's all the changes of moving, etc. or the fact that I just realized I'm swiftly approaching thirty (oh, freak.)that's got me pondering on my life.

I think the real culprit is a line from a cookbook I've just been reading,

"A cook mimics someone else's food while a chef defines their own style."

It got me thinking, "Who am I? What is my style?" And, naturally, that spilled over into the rest of my life. Boiling it all down, here's what I came up with.


I love food. Possibly more than life. I'm a hopeless romantic and a tough girl. I'm proud and stubborn. I love puppies. I'm nowhere near being ready to settle down yet; luckily I married another gypsy. I'm surprised sometimes at how much I love being a mom.

I'm a middle child and a peacemaker. I love cooking seasonally. My favorite colors are yellow and red. My worst nightmare is to be considered average. Service makes me feel happy and needed.

I'm a spiritual woman. My life centers around family. Valentine's Day is my favorite holiday- just seeing red and pink together gets me excited. I'm an extrovert and an introvert, depending on the day. I love to feed people. Paris is my hometown. Pedicures make me blissfully happy. I'm postive and hopeful.

I've always wanted to be in the middle of a tornado. If I was single again I'd join the Peace Corps. I was chubby in high school and sometimes that still freaks me out. I'm fiercely loyal. Someday I will be more patient. I'm practical, sometimes to a fault. I love negative space. My sense of humor is dry, but I love to laugh.

I still love Dashboard Confessional, the band of my college days. I feel the need to read 'the classics', but there aren't many I'm wild about. I'm short, but still hopeful I'll get a growth-spurt. My dad calls me his Sunshine Girl, and I'm proud of that. I'm artistic. I'm generous. I love to write, and someday I'll publish something. I'm a good kisser and reading is my happy place.



So there you go, maybe you know me a little better now. At any rate, I had a good time doing the personal inventory.

So Long, Sweet Summer

I can't believe that the summer is pretty much over and done. Here we are packing again, and Ryan is wrapping up his last week at a job he loves more than any other in his entire life. When he came home for lunch today I asked him how his day was so far, and what he had planned for the rest of the afternoon. It was like talking to a really cute five-year-old.

"Well, this morning I dressed up like Lewis, 'cause we had these really cool costumes. No real reason, just, you know, . . . because. And this afternoon, let me see. . . I think I'm going to make some rope and catch some crawdads." His eyes twinkled on the last word.

I giggled out loud, I couldn't help it. No wonder it's his favorite job in the world- it's like getting paid to play cowboys and indians! :)

An Overnight Change

Reese turned two a little over a week ago, and up until then I figured I was getting used to the 'terrible two' stuff- not liking it, mind you, but at least feeling like I could deal with it. You know, tantrums, drama, mood swings, etc. But since that blessed birthday celebration it seems the 'two's have struck with a fiery vengence. I never knew she could be so sneaky or so fast! In the last week she has:
Drizzled half my shampoo bottle around the edge of the tub
Covered herself in desitin, strawberry yogurt, lotion, baby powder- you name it!
Dropped her toothbrush down the bathroom vent
Colored on any wall she could reach (I swear she has a stash of pencils hidden somewhere)
Knocked over a bucket of flour
Tucked all of Ryan's credit cards into the space where our diningroom door rolls back into the wall
Hidden my wallet somewhere in the house (we're on day 4 of the search)
And developed a lovely purple bruise above her eye from biffing it on the stairs.

Good Night Nurse!

I know, I know, it's only gonna get worse. Oi.

Cupcake Sunday

I've taken to baking like a crazy woman on Sundays, mostly because I miss my working hubby and cooking keeps me busy and insanely happy while he's gone. Without realizing it, I think I've designated Sunday as Cupcake Day. Last week was Chocolate Cardamom with Ganache Frosting. And this week?

Ginger Spice with Tangy Peach Swiss Buttercream.

It's a beautiful thing when ideas that have been bouncing around in your head for weeks turn out SO good. I got the idea while watching Stranger Than Fiction (love it!), and somehow knew they would be a hit before I even started baking them today.

My brain has lately been on overload with the amount of sweet things I've been dreaming up to 1-) get ready for the French Pastry class I'm teaching in a week 2-) plan birthday cakes for my parents' combined birthday party next weekend, and 3-) organize the at times overwhelming endeavor I plan to launch once we return to Provo.

So, more than ever before, I should be sick of it all, and yet I'm not. I can't get enough of trying new recipes, and my brain won't stop talking about all the amazing new flavors and garnishes it's coming up with. Nice to know that some things in life are guaranteed. :)

Here's the recipe for you to enjoy through tasty peach season--

Ginger Spice Cake

1 c. sugar
½ c. butter (1 cube)
1 egg
½ tsp. vanilla
2 c. flour
2 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp ginger
½ tsp cloves
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1 ½ c. applesauce

Cream butter and sugar together until very light and fluffy, 3-5 minutes. Add egg and vanilla and mix until well combined. Add applesauce and mix well. Sift dry ingredients together and mix into wet mixture until incorporated. Bake at 375 for 45 minutes or until center springs back when touched. For cupcakes, fill 15 liners a little less than 2/3 full, and bake 15-18 minutes.

Tangy Peach Swiss Buttercream
(enough to lightly frost 24 cupcakes)

1 cup granulated sugar
4 large egg whites
3 sticks (12 ounces) unsalted butter, at room temperature
2 ripe peaches, blended until smooth in food processor


Put the sugar and egg whites in a mixer bowl or another large heatproof bowl, fit the bowl over a plan of simmering water and whisk constantly, keeping the mixture over the heat, until it feels hot to the touch, about 3 minutes. The sugar should be dissolved, and the mixture will look like shiny marshmallow cream.

Remove the bowl from the heat.Working with the whisk attachment or with a hand mixer, beat the meringue on medium speed until it is cool, about 5 minutes.

Switch to the paddle attachment if you have one, and add the butter a stick at a time, beating until smooth. Once all the butter is in, beat in the buttercream on medium-high speed until it is thick and very smooth, 6-10 minutes. During this time the buttercream may curdle or separate – just keep beating and it will come together again.On medium speed, gradually beat in the peach puree a few tablespoons at a time, waiting until each addition is absorbed before adding more. You should have a shiny smooth buttercream. Pipe onto cooled cupcakes or press a piece of plastic against the surface of the buttercream if not using immediately.


Then, of course, find a fork and enjoy! We sure did.

Reese is 2!

All Hail Princess Reese!

Well, it finally came- it seems like I've been telling people that Reese is almost two for just about ever, and now I can smile and say simply, "She's two."

We lucked out that Reese's birthday happened to fall on one of Ryan's day's off. Seeing as how we're small in numbers here, I was thrilled that we didn't have to wait around all day for one third of the party to show up.

We weren't sure what to do for the special day seeing as how she probably didn't have a clue what was going on or why I kept sticking the sparkly blue princess crown on her head. In the end we kept things simple: we took her to Giant Springs to feed the fish, which she loved. . .

Buying fish food with Daddy

She kept snapping her fingers and making kissey noises at the fish calling, "Mon, 'mon fish!"

. . . and made sure to fit in a nap since what two-year-old birthday would be complete without at least one tantrum? Or you know, like. . . seven.

And since temps were too high to even think of turning on the oven, we opted for French Fries and Chocolate Milkshakes at Fuddruckers with a gy-nourmous (yeah, spelling's beyond me on that one) slice of chocolate cream pie.

Cutie!

Somehow the ketchup was more enticing than whipped cream or chocolate.

The evening ended on the lawn where we let her open her presents from us and play until mammoth mosquitos chased us indoors. The Buzz Lightyear definitely took the cake, but I'm not sure who was more excited to finally have him- Reese . . . or Ryan.

Playing with Daddy, Buzz, and Mr. Incredible (who Ryan is trying to teach her is just another name for "Daddy")

Mostly, all day long Ryan and I just looked at her and thought (both outloud and in our heads), "I can't believe it! She's so big- not a baby at all anymore!" Very surreal, I've got to say because I seriously feel like we just brought her home from the hospital in that tiny hippo outfit that her Aunt Aubrey gave her that didn't even fit. It's both the greatest thing in the world and one that puts a lump in my throat to see her so grown up, and turning into such a cute, hilarious, social, and amazing little girl.

We love you Reesie!

Pride goes before the Burn

I got home last night from a fantastic Idahoan excursion that lasted almost a week at the Spaulding family Reunion in Twin Falls and few days relaxing up at my parents' cabin. I had a great time catching up with cousins, gorging myself on the best dutchoven ever, and helping the Yellow team come in third in the first ever Spaulding Olympics. (Yeah, there were only 4 teams ;) However, much like Reese's favorite bedtime book, Little Pea, there was one thing I did not like: the Raging, Burning, Relay of Death.

Granted, that's not the official name, and while the view was fantastic, it unfortunately sent my trash to the curb with the swiftest and most effective of kicks.

A little background, here. To finish off a day of olympic events- frisbee golf, karaoke competitions, and a rubix cube challenge to name a few- we were driven to the base of a mountain, and five from each team waited patiently for their turn to carry the colored baton to victory. In all fairness, I should mention here, that my cousin Josh- our team captain- gave me the option to back out, but I thought to myself- no way! I'm in shape! I go running, and a quarter mile is nothing- I do that no problem at home! So he gave me Anchor, aka, the last leg and home stretch of the race. No pressure.

As I waited for my turn, I looked ahead and felt the beginning of a knot forming in my stomach. It looked pretty steep. But I reminded myself that it wasn't too far- just up the hill, around the curve and through the finish line.

I should probably mention that I have a pride issue, and this isn't the only time it's gotten me into trouble. In the MTC I very nearly died trying to keep up with a marathon runner during workout time (for the record I found out about the marathons AS we were running), but my stubborn pride wouldn't let me beg off- even though her starting pace was pretty close to my finishing sprint. Had I not been a missionary (promised protection, you know) I'm pretty sure my number would have been up that day.

Anyway, fast-forward to when I get the baton.

I take off running and think, "Yes! See? I can totally do this- easy peasy!" Yeah, and then, brick wall. Burning like I've never known hit my chest. You see, the hill was probably about a 10% grade, and the elevation something around 7,000 feet. Great Falls is around 3,000. Slight difference there. All I could think was, "Keep moving! And whatever you do, don't be last!" Pride. It's a killer.

Right about that time I look over and see my nephew Broc on the sideline. I can see the finish line up ahead and even though it's pretty close it seems like I'll never make it. Broc sees me and yells out,

"Aunt Molly! I got stung!!!"

At the same time I hear my cousin Jeep coming up behind me, closing in to take Third and leave me where I really don't want to be: Last.

Moral delema.

Realizing that if I stopped now, I would never get up the momentum to take on the last stretch of that mountain. But, being the loving Aunt that I am, somewhere in the midst of my pain I knew the poor kid needed some love and attention. So, I did the only thing I could, I kept running and yelled out,

"Come on Broc, run with me- up to the top, come on! Just shake that one off buddy, you can do it!"

Now before you go thinking I'm a terrible person, you should know that he just touched some stinging nettle and a little hydrocortizone fixed him right up. And, being the sweet kid he is, he didn't hold it against me.

Yeah, ok, so maybe I haven't got the pride thing all worked out yet, but we did get third, and despite the death-like burning in my chest and desire to throw up once I reached the top, I felt pretty good. But that was mostly because I knew I was getting a ride back down.

Mese and I at the top of the Mountain

And here are a few pics from the rest of the reunion--

After being in camp only a few hours it was hard to distinguish Reese from the trail

Flip flop lines. Don't you love her chubby little feet?!

Posing with Grandma and Grandpa

Reese and her cousin Nathan who is a day younger. They weren't really sure what to make of each other.

Making 'burritos' with my cousin Jill's daughter, Railey

Reese, Grandpa, and Broc

The Yellow Team shooting pop cans with Nerf Guns in the Olympics

Reese persuading Grandpa to share a little more of his cobbler