Easy Oreo Truffles

So here's a recipe I'd like to share that's great for the holidays and easy to make!

You need:
 1 package OREO cookies
 1 8-oz Cream Cheese
 16 oz Semi-Sweet Chocolate Morsels, melted
 Wax Paper
 Cookie Sheet

How to make 'em:

1. Crush 9 of the cookies to fine crumbs (easiest with a Ziploc bag and a rolling pin) and set aside for use later as a topping on the truffles
2. Crush the remaining cookies - should be about 36 - into fine crumbs and place into a medium bowl.
3. Mix the 36-cookie crumbs with the cream cheese until well blended
4. Roll the mixture into 42 balls, about 1-inch in diameter
5. Dip each ball into the melted chocolate, and place on a wax-paper covered cookie sheet, and sprinkle with the cookie crumbs you set aside (You can also use spinkles or anything else you like instead as a decoration, to make them more festive!)
6. Refridgerate for 1 hour, until they are firm.
7. Serve and Enjoy!!

This recipe can be found at: http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Easy-OREO-Truffles/Detail.aspx

My Newest Project

So, for those who don't know, outside of my family I have one true passion - reading. If given the chance, I would gladly spend an entire day in my bed with a good book and a cup of coffee. I've read more books than I can keep track of, but very few have actually made me cry. In fact, I think there may only be three that have. In no particular order...

So even though each one is an incredible book, Suzanne's Diary for Nicholas is the one that affected me the most, and when I recently picked it up again, I decided to use it as a basis for a new project, which I kind of hope will turn out to be one that a.) I actually finish, and b.) one that will be meaningful for more than just me.

I work at a level two trauma center, which means we get some pretty bad cases. We're also the regional burn center, and get burn patients from all over the country. I've seen some things that have made me mad, made me cry, and have changed my outlook on life. One thing I've learned is that nothing is ever certain, and each day is a gift that should be celebrated and cherished. Tomorrow is never a guarantee. So, taking that and the basis for Suzanne's Diary for Nicholas, I've decided to start a journal for my daughter. There are so many things that I know I would want to tell her, if God forbid I didn't get to watch her grow. And I can't wait to find out that I will/will not get that chance. So morbid as it may be, I'm going to keep a journal for her. I want her to know who her mother is, how I met her father, what makes me who I am. I want to make sure I give her advice about starting elementary school, surviving middle school, making the most of high school, going to college, getting married, having children, and all of the other experiences that I've had that she can learn from. I don't plan on going anywhere, so I'm going to keep this and treat it like it will just be a neat keepsake for her, to someday look inside and find out who her mom was. I don't think most kids know that their parents are "real people" and it's important to me that my girl knows that. And if our relationship is like many other mother/daughter relationships, I know there will come a time when we can't be in the same room together. I'm not looking forward to it, but I know it will probably happen. So it's important for me to know that I'll be able to tell her I love her and cherish her, even when she won't listen. And maybe someday, if she wants to, she can share it with her brother, or any other siblings she may someday have.

Like I said, if nothing else, it will hopefully be a neat keepsake for her someday. But, one day when I'm not around anymore, maybe it will be something she can treasure; a book of advice and insight on life from the woman that gave her life...

...I hope she likes it.

Oh, Little Man

I think at this point it would be safe to say that Mr. Jacob Wesley Mason has had a busy month so far. And not all of this has been good, although praise God my son is no worse for the wear today, or at least as of the last time I saw him this morning!!

To start, my little man decided it was time to grow up on me. We bought Jacob a potty chair a few weeks ago, since he decided to start telling us that he went in his diaper. Ben and I took that as a clue that maybe, just maybe, we were approaching the time to start the dreaded potty training. Let's not even mention the fact that Mommy and Daddy have never done this before and have no clue what we are doing. So we sat the chair in the bathroom. Jake, curious child that he is, follows me into the bathroom, and points to the potty. So what the heck, lets give it a whirl. I took his diaper off, sat him down, and turned the water on for inspiration. About thirty seconds later, little man's eyes go huge, and he stood up, and there it was, big as life.....pee-pee!! I'm a twenty-six year old grown woman, and there I was, clapping and screaming and laughing with my boy over urine. Only a parent can truly understand the excitement of urine in a potty chair, and the added joy of seeing the same task accomplished not one, not two, but THREE times in one day!! Way to go, little man!!!!

Fast forward a few days, and we move on to Jacob's next first...stitches. I'm working in the ortho clinic, bored out of my mind because of the lack of patients, when my cell phone starts vibrating, which it never does. I answer, and the first thing I hear is my mother saying, "Now I want you to listen to me, and not get upset. He's fine, but..." Immediately I began packing my stuff up, knowing that no matter what was said, I wouldn't like it and would be on my way out the door in a matter of minutes. Turns out my little man, being the adventurous dare devil he's become over the past few weeks, did a header over the side of our bed and landed on his forehead on our concrete and tile floor. Not a good thing. Ben took him to Franklin Square, and I met them there. By the time I got there, Jake was acting like himself, despite the bloody cut on his forehead. At first it didn't look bad, but when it was cleaned, it was clear that it was much deeper than I thought at first. Actually, it needed about three stitched to close. After an endless 4 hour hospital trip, during which my heart broke as I held my crying, pitiful-looking little man down while a doctor sewed his forehead shut, my son was the proud owner of what I fear may be the first of many stitches he'll have throughout his childhood. Call it a mother's instinct, but I don't think we've seen the end of the emergency room!

Which brings us back to another first...Jacob finally got a toddler bed. Or should I say Big Boy Bed, complete with spiffy Yo-Gabba-Gabba sheets. Despite the fact that he's only 19 months old, after our trip to the ER I couldn't get the image of him going over the side of the crib out of my head. Not worth the risk. So now we're working on sleeping in the Big Boy Bed. The past two nights have been successful, if you can discount rolling out of said Big Boy Bed in your sleep and waking up screaming. Otherwise, we're getting along marvolously!

Just seems like we're only half way through November, and already it's been a very eventful month, during which my son is trying to show that he is either a.) growing up on me; or b.) trying to drive me to drink from worry over him.

Oh, Little Man....

Best Day of My Life

I am one of the rare women who gets to spend the majority of her life with my one and only soulmate. The love of my life. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

11 years ago today, I started into a relationship that, in all honestly, I wasn't too sure about. It wasn't planned, it wasn't something I was looking for, but it was something that, somehow, just fell into my lap. I literally turned around one day and went, "Hmmm...could this be something?" I took a risk, as he did, and I will be forever grateful that I did...

About a week before today, 11 years ago, one of my very best friends shocked me by asking me to homecomming. I remember sitting in the room where we had lunch (I was a Sophomore in high school, he was a Junior), waiting for him to ask me. Our friends had told me earlier that day that he wanted to, but being somewhat shy and a whole lot nervous, Ben took his sweet time. I had one of those rare moments of bravado, and walked up to him and said "Is there something you wanted to ask me?" He said yeah, he asked, and I said, "Yes...now was that so hard??" and walked away. I even remember asking my mom on the way home if she thought you could date someone you didn't really think was attractive (Sorry Ben...to this day I regret even thinking that, but you have to admit, you've gotten sooo much better with age!!). As the week went on, I kept hanging out with the same group, and we made plans to go to Jason's Woods that Sunday night. Ben's mom drove, and my mom dropped me off at the Hawthorne McDonald's to ride with them. She told me recently that when she first saw Ben, she was scared of him. And we weren't even dating!

On the car ride up, Ben and I sat together in the backseat of Ms. Mary's car (there were too many people going to take one car, so we rode with our friend Khalia's mom). I kept looking down, and Ben's hand kept moving closer to mine on the backseat. By the time we hit PA, he had moved his hand right next to mine, and finally took my hand in his. He didn't let go until we got out of the car an hour later. I remember seeing his mom smile when I looked back and she saw he was holding my hand walking across the parking lot, and watching her smile even more in the rearview mirror on the way home when I laid my head on his shoulder and finally fell asleep that way. There was no formal, "Will you go out with me?" from either of us. Just the slide of a hand across a car seat, and my entire life changed forever. And I thank God each and every day that he took my hand, and decided to never let go. It just may be the best day of my life.

Or maybe this was. Four years after our first date, Ben asked me to be his wife, in front of over 200 people. He wore khakis (something I loved that, in those days, he rarely ever did), got down on one knee, and made me cry. I think I said yes somewhere in there, because the ring he gave me (a gorgeous three-stone diamond ring) is still on the third finger of my left hand.

And about 10 months later, I wore a white dress and a wedding veil, walked down a church aisle on my Daddy's arm, found Ben at the end, and said "I do". Maybe that was the best day of my life...

...or was it the day, 9 years later, when our beautiful son came into the world, and I became a Mommy? How could anything compare to the feeling of looking into the eyes of the baby I had known we would have for years, the baby we had dreamed about, talked about, and even named before we were even married? Yeah, that may have been the best day of my life....

...or was it the day that my beautiful daughter entered my life? The little girl that looks more and more like her father every day. How can anything top the joy of finding out that yes, you can literally feel your heart grow in size to make a place for the second child you weren't expecting, but were always hoping for. The little girl that you weren't sure you would have. The one who makes your husband, the love of your life, turn into a sap, and who makes you cry when you see her with him. Yeah, that may be the best day...

...or will it be one of thousands of days yet to come? Days in which you find out that you are still madly in love with the boy you met 11 years ago, the man that boy became, and the amazing father you knew he would be but are still blown away by. I feel myself choking up even as I write this, because all those years ago, we took a leap of faith, and it changed my life. Ben is the best thing that ever happened to me. I met him before I even knew what I would make of my life, and now I know that he is my life, my reason for living and breathing. He is the man that made me a wife, a mother, and everything I am today, good and bad. I can't imagine my life without him. He's the only man I've ever loved, my first in so many ways, and the only man I ever want to spend my life with, grow old with, and be with throughout eternity. Eternity will never be long enough to be with him. He is my soulmate, my better half, my partner in crime, and the reason behind everything I do.

Thank God we went to Jason's Woods 11 years ago today. That was the best day of my life.....

All Good Things...

...must come to an end, or so I'm told. Why they have to, I'm not really sure. Maybe it's so we appreciate them more. Or so we don't get spoiled. I don't know, but today marks the end of my most recent good thing - Maternity Leave.

It's been a good run. I've been home for 9 weeks, which is about 3 weeks longer than I would have been if I had a different career and my baby girl hadn't been measuring small. August 9 was the last day I was at work. In some ways it seems like just yesterday, and in others it seems like a lifetime ago. So much has changed since August 9. I went from being a mother to one rambunctious little man to mommy to a 6 week old and an even more rambunctious little man. I broke my foot, had it in a boot, tried to walk with it and got pissed, took the boot off, and am back to walking normal (although admittedly with some pain at the end of the day. Nothing big, I'll live). I found out my grandmother's heart has almost no blood flow, and that the doctors don't know how she is still alive. Remarkable, since her previous doctor said she had the heart of a 20 year old (she's 81) and that her heart wouldn't be the thing that "got her" in the end. Dumb ass. My dad is now, for all intents and purposes, retired from the job he had for the last 30 years. My husband is now in school full time, and I am accepted and starting my Bachelors in January. So the landscape that is my life is totally different now.

Do I want to go back to work? Yes and no. I worked hard to get where I am, and I never really entertained the idea of being a stay-at-home mom. Honestly, and God forgive me, I don't think I have the patience. And I firmly believe that having less time with my children makes me appreciate them that much more. I hate when I miss the little things, like first words, steps, etc., but I guess that's the nature of the beast. For the most part, I love what I do, although it's like anything else...you have good days and bad days, and a whole lot of mediocre days in between, but the key is loving the in between, which I do. And there's definitely something to be said for having a 45 minute lunch during which no one walks up and steals my food, or climbs into my lap saying, "Yes" and "Yum". Although soon I'm sure I'll be missing that too. I think.

I guess the biggest reason to go back to work is the pride I feel in being able to support my family. Ben worked hard for so very long in a job that he hated just so I could go to school. I'm lucky enough to have a job I love, and be able to support him going to school. i don't want him working at all if we can avoid it, but he may have to in February when we move. Still, at least by my having the job that I do he can work as little as possible, and keep his focus where it belongs - school.

So how did I spend my "last day"? Today was Ben's birthday. He turned 27, which really sounds strange to me, as the first time I ever spent time with him was at his 16th birthday. Some days it feels like we've been together forever, in a good way, and sometimes it feels like we should just be getting started. Not sitting in bed with two sleeping children in their beds. Anyway, today I cleaned so Ben didn't have to, then we went to The Commadore to watch the game (go Ravens!!) with his parents. We had cake, let the kids run around (or at least Jake) with their Grammy and Poppy, and just tried to hang out. But the best part of the day was when my little man came running in from outside with a big smile on his face, and a beautiful flower in his hand, held high just for me.

Those are the moments that melt your heart, and that make me remember why good things, like maternity leave, have to end. I have to take care of my babies the best way that I can, and that is by working hard, and making the most of each weekend. I love my children, I love my husband, and I love my job. It just might take me a while to remember that I love my job...

...wish me luck!

Early Morning Musings

It's still amazing to me, after two children, how much your sense of time changes. There was a time, not very long ago, when I would have been horrified at the mere thought of being awake and active at 3:30am. Most normal human beings would be, I'm sure. But then there's me, still sitting at my computer at 5:30am, and I've been awake for two hours now. Which makes no sense. Jacob is still asleep, Makenna has had her bottle and diaper change and is back to sleep (sure to be waking up around 7 for her next bottle), and I can hear Ben snoring. WHY AM I AWAKE? I think I'm getting sick, but that should mean I sleep more, right? Instead, I've downloaded all my pictures from the last few days, played multiple games of Three Towers Solitaire, and even sent some long overdue emails to take care of a few odds and ends. I know I'm going to be tired later, but I think maybe, at this point, I would be more tired if I tried to go back to sleep. The kids don't care how much I sleep, all they know is that when they wake up, it's time to go.

Maybe I just enjoy the quiet that I don't get during the day with two under two.....

Chaos is relative

Days like these tend to make me want to pull out all of my hair, strand by strand. Sure, the entire day wasn't horrible, and in fact had some good moments. Case in point, my son fell asleep with his head in my lap, and slept for over an hour. Nothing compares to good cuddle time with my boy. I just wish I could remember that when all hell breaks loose in the evening. And yes, I know, it could be worse. But just like pain is relative, I think chaos is too.

Our baby girl was having what I thought were formula issues of the "I hate lactose" variety, just like her brother did around this time. So about two weeks ago I switched her from the premium formula to the gentlease formula, the one that has 80% less lactose than regular formula. She did good, and seemed to not be as fussy or agitated when eating. She had previously been crying off and on whenever she ate, was getting poopy that was harder and harder in consistency (sorry if that falls into the "TMI" category), and had had one 45 minute long crying jag followed by the passage of a substantial amount of gas. None of this happened once I switched her. Her appetite didn't change much, and if anything she started eating better. But the pediatrician and my husband were not totally convinced that the formula was the problem. They agreed that it could be, but since her issues seemed to be mostly at night, and since said issues did not involve spitting or vomiting or nasty changes in poops (ie the complete absence of a poop), there was the thought that maybe, just maybe, she was fine on the "high octane" formula. She might just be getting agitated at the increased activity in the house at night, brought on by dinner, baths, bedtime, etc. Or she could be expressing herself by jamming all of her crying time for the day into one session (apparently there is a certain amount of time during the day when babies are supposed to cry. Some kids spread it out, some cram it together). So, just for kicks and giggles, and to appease curiosity, I decided yesterday to switch her back to the original formula, and see how she responded.

Note to self: If your "mommy intuition" tells you not to do something, listen.

Fast forward 24 hours after the switch, and I again have a little girl with firmer poopy, who is crying every time she tries to eat, is eating less each feeding, and is generally agitated and whiny the later in the day that it gets. Welcome back, lactose sensitive formula. We've missed you during you oh-so-short vacation...

Two bottles of sensitive formula later, and my little girl is absolutely passed out in her father's arms after drinking a full 4oz bottle, only her second full bottle since the first switch, and her mother's lapse in sanity.

Now, you may be wondering why this would make me want to pull my hair out...

...enter stage right the 18 month old who has taken up incessant whining and crying due to sister issues and communication frustrations, and mix in some good old-fashioned jealousy with a touch of "I haven't yet realized that I am big enough that it hurts when I decide to try standing on Mommy's pelvis and kicking into her ribs while I climb on her as she tries to feed the new baby." Add also a smattering of the radar my children have for whenever I try to pick up a book or magazine (silly girl, did you actually think you would be able to read anything other than the directions on the formula can once you had two children?? HaHaHa) And again, just because we can, let's throw in some guilt because, when I lose it and yell at the big man for hurting me and generally making a pest of himself as only an 18 month old can, he gives me the wet eyes and pouty lip and the "I can't believe you just broke my heart" face. Oh God, Jacob, just rip my heart out and dance on it. That would probably hurt less than seeing your sad little face. Good times, all around.

What can I say, I'm a complete wuss, and absolutely cannot stand when I think I've hurt my children. Which is what this all boils down to. The Boy was hurt because Mommy snapped, when all he wants is my attention and love (and a bottle and bedtime, as it turned out). Baby Girl was hurt because Mommy changed her formula against her better judgement and caused lovely abdominal pains that a 3 week old doesn't understand (and yes, I know it wasn't intentional and no harm no foul, but still...). Please, is there a guide book somewhere that can tell me how to fairly balance being Jacob's Mommy with being Makenna's Mommy, while trying to be Ben's wife, and not forgetting that somewhere, inside this whole mess, I'm still Allison??

I know I stress too much. But I am learning, slowly but surely, that there is a whole new brand of stress with two under two. And I know, someday I will look back on this and wish that this was the stress I have (like on a day when I have a moody 16 year old boy and a 15 year old girl who thinks she hates me). But for now, this is all I have.

And like I said, chaos is relative.....

My Quiet Sunday

There's little in life I enjoy than a Sunday with nothing to do but just exist. Today was that kind of day. How fortunate am I to have been able to spend the entire day in my home, with my beautiful Jacob running around acting like a nut, and Makenna, who's becoming more and more aware with each passing day, either asleep on my chest or staring at the world and/or randomly yelling for no reason in her playpen? There was football on TV, and Ben was home all day. It doesn't get much better.

While I tried to read my book (one I've had for almost a week and not actually started - a rarity for me but a consequence of having two small children),  Ben sat and studied and worked on homework. I looked at him, and was hit with a wave of pride, something that seems to happen more and more recently. My husband is so very intelligent, and I don't think he realizes it. He sells himself short too often. This is a man who, in high school, could do my Calculus homework without ever having taken Calculus himself. I don't know too many people who could do that. I just wish he would have realized that he had potential sooner. He's working towards becoming an MLT, or Medical Laboratory Technician, and he's already damn good at what he does. He barely has to study to pull A's in his coursework, and I know that that won't change now that he's in the program. He's working so hard to help our family have a good life. My God I am blessed to have him. I can only hope the man knows how very much I love him, and how lost I would be without him in my life.

The sweetest part of my day, however, was one of those spontaneous moments that can't be scripted but are worth more than anything else in the world. I was sitting on the couch, with the laptop in my lap. Makenna was asleep on my chest, and Ben had gone out to get lunch for us. My little man, my Jacob, came up, laid his head in my lap, and went to sleep. No poking and prodding to get him to take a nap today, and I had both of my babies asleep in my arms. As a mother, there is no greater joy in the world than the feel of my children in my arms, and if the world had stopped at that moment, I can think of no place I would rather have been. For today, at least, this was my bit of calm amid the chaos...