An Easy Meal: Cheeze it Chicken

My mother-in-law gave us one of their ward cookbooks when we were first married. I tend to really like those types of cookbooks: they are tried and true and typically easy and practical. I have always been tempted by, but afraid to try, Cheeze-It Chicken. Well, we made it a few weeks ago and I am sticking by it forever, particularly since I purchased a ton of Cheeze-its from Costco on an impulse a few months ago.

The boys pound up their baggies full of cheeze-its using toy hammers while I rub sour cream on defrosted, dry chicken breasts. Then we pour the cheeze-it crumbs on top (you can either spread crumbs on both sides or just dump them on top; it is a forgiving recipe--quite a shock, I know.)

Cook on 350 (uncovered) for 30 min. Remove and pour a T or 2 of melted butter on top and replace for another 30. Since I use those bags of Costco frozen chicken, my cooking time is considerably less. Also, you can skip the butter step. It just means that your coating will be a little drier.

The Cheeze-It Chicken was discovered in pursuit of some larger goals I created for myself during our Utah vacation (to make real dinners instead of just warming up hot dogs, macaroni or nuggets--which I will still do, a lot, but not exclusively anymore. Poor Brig needs something real to eat, and cheeze-it chicken qualifies!)

Another goal I made was to take one photo a day. I wouldn't fuss about it being super quality or anything like that. I am proud to report that I have been able to do it, and plan on maintaining it for a year. I have fallen short in posting them every day on my real top-secret online journal to which only I have access, but I will try to at least play catch up.

Here was us today.
Will selected this outfit and was insistant about it. I am grateful, however, that he suddenly decided to remove all of it before we went on our walk to see the men cutting down tree limbs. We saw a neighbor I really like but don't know well and it just feels slightly better to have your kids not look utterly ridiculous and uncared for. I don't like Andrew's outfit, but I no longer attempt to control what he wears minus Sunday attire. If he will put it on his own body willingly, I am satisfied.

An Important Current Event

Honduras' Struggle to Remain a Democracy, Despite Obama's Pressure to Reinstate Their Constitutionally-Deposed Chavez-like Leader

(that entire title is hyperlinked), for those interested in what I consider to be Obama's most obvious instance of being on the wrong side of an issue (well, aside from voting against providing medical treatment to babies born alive after a failed abortion). Meanwhile, we are off to Mt. Vernon!

Utah 2009

We went back to Utah for the first time since July 2007, immediately after I had taken (and passed!) the Va Bar. Life changes so much in just a couple of years when you are a young family. My 21 one month old Andrew has been replaced by 21 month old Will, and supplanted by this almost 4 year old kid with huge hair who sleeps through the night.

Will and I flew out of Dulles the afternoon before Brig and Andrew took a straight shot flight right into SCL. Will and I, of course, flew first to JFK, where we had a long layover. We ended up in SLC at 2am EST. Will was, of course, a wonderful flier. My kids don't eat until they are 2, don't sleep through the night reliably until they are . . . 2, but they always always always are awesome on flights. By awesome I mean that they don't cry. Andrew remained awake the entire (no exaggeration) flight from NYC to Tel Aviv when he was 11 months old. And though he interrupted many a prayer circle that Jewish men and formed in the aisles, he did it with a smile. Same with Will, though Will gets an even higher mark for his performance on his flight bc he actually did fall asleep at some point. I lay my sweater on the floor and he just plopped down.

It was nice to be back in Utah. Even though I will tell people when asked that I am from Virginia, it would also be true to say that I am part Utahn. I spent my young adult formative years there, and remained for a few thereafter in Salt Lake for the first years of marriage. 11 years in total. Utah in many ways does feel like home to me.

Here are the highlights of our stay:


These were taken on the Alpine ski lift. They are just decor since I have no photos of the race.

1) The 10K
We ran the Deseret News 10K as a sibling group. Brigham, determined to beat his younger brothers, actually trained for it. This is the same man who didn't even try to lose weight for our wedding. I suppose losing a 10K to his brothers would have been more humiliating than looking "like [he] shouldn't be allowed to drive" (his own description) in our wedding photos. I don't know exactly what the connection btwn 15 extra pounds and looking mildly disabled is, but for Brig, there is one.

Brigham won handily. And true to form, he stuck by me until I encouraged him to hurry up and beat his brother's wife (who was pushing a stroller). In our defense, she is also almost 6 feet tall, 26 years old and a former All American athlete. I came in a proud third, beating all the (younger than me) brothers, too. Hey, I have to take my victories where I can find them. They are few on the ground.

Running through our old neighborhood was a bit surreal. The last time I had been down those streets was when I lived there and hung out all day with a baby and my dog. We went back to our very street and saw our house, and the strange thing is that I still felt like it was mine. I got out and looked at the dog footprints on the corner of Emerson Ave and 800 East. Charlie made them the summer before we moved when they repaved the sidewalk on one of our many many walks to the dog park. I regretted not dirtying Andrew's baby hand to leave his impression, too.

I was struck by how small Salt Lake is. In some ways, this appeals to me. It is harder (though by no means impossible) for me to get hopelessly lost, the traffic is nonexistent compared to DC, everything is cheaper, easier, more parking-accessible. Yet that morning, I couldn't help but be struck by the thought: is this all?

2) Abby and Patrick's Wedding
This was the very most fun wedding event I have ever attended. Everything was perfect, and I think a lot of that has to do with Abby just being able to roll with the punches. She was bitten by a dog that morning, the hairdresser failed to show up so her hair was fixed in the car on the way to the Temple--stuff like that. And she didn't miss a beat. That is just Abby, and so that was how the whole day was. My favorite part was when Abby and Patrick sang this song they wrote.

The reception was held in the Cannon's riverfront backyard. The best part about it was the caged playground area where my kids could be safely stowed (and entertained by Patrick's younger brother, Cubby, whom my kids worshipped and continued to ask about for weeks).









Ok, why didn't anyone just tell me that Will looked like Albert Einstein with his hair so long like that? This photo made me realize that the time had come for the cut. Doesn't he look so much cuter? I also realized that my hair needs some help, too. And that Brig was right about that ribbon in my hair--not my best look.



3) Zions Park
We spent a couple of days down in Zions, where we celebrated Brig's dad's 60th birthday. All the siblings went on a nice hike while my poor saintly mother in law babysat all those kids. I feel less guilty bc Will napped the whole time and Andrew is pretty self-sufficient, but my sisters in law sure owe her big time! :)

I realized how totally lame I was in college to have not attached myself to people who actually took advantage of the fun things Utah has to offer. Never date a guy who was no car for more than 6 months, particularly if he has to take Math 97 to graduate. Just saying.
The kids in the Virgin River Walk.
I still have not lived my dream, originating in July 2001, of doing this hike with swimming gear. The other times I came the water was either too cold or I was weighed down by babies.
Andrew putting his cold hands on my bare skin. It gave him such joy.
The type of guy I should have always been dating. No Math 97 here. (It is ok for the wife to take math 97, Jessie!)
At the start of Peekaboo Canyon.
I would like to record here that I did wear a wetsuit on this hike, and I was wise to do so. My sister in law is hiding behind her husband here because she was basically naked. (just kidding, anne!!) Not me; that wetsuit protected me from the freezing water, the filth in the water, and from scraping my body on the canyon walls. The best part about it was that I looked totally hot! Wetsuits are way flattering. That is why I wore one on my honeymoon to Hawaii (the Pacific Ocean is really cold, especially in January--even in Hawaii)! I know I would feel so much more confident if I had one of my own to wear to the pool.

Utah was a lot of fun. I miss the pork salads already.

sunday morning coming down

This was taken an hour ago. They are now all at the park.

Will loves a piggie-back ride these days.

He also loves to angrily proclaim himself to be Pig WON'T. So that book has been an awesome parenting tool. I am reminded of this because he did it this morning. Will someday nothing short of dying be half as lonely as the sound of no little tiny boy shouting "I am Pig Won't!" at 6 am? It is from that sentiment that I draw my strength: as depressing as being roused so early in such a way is, it will be more depressing when there is no hope of such a wake-up.

Anyway, instead of getting right down to my nursery lesson, the ostensible reason for getting on the internet this morning, I ended up getting sidetracked by my most recent and constant distraction. One would think I was good at math. Don't hate me because I am conservative.

Did you notice that Will's tube is out? That was a Brigham Executive Decision. I think it was only the second in our marriage, but, like the first (coming home from work and removing Will's crib from our room to the spare room), I think it might be the right one. He has already been eating full meals, every time. I can even give him his medicine now. We'll see how it goes.

Happy Sunday. Ours will be; we are having Thai Massuman Curry for dinner and it is good.

ps for some reason my hyperlinks don't appear in a different color, so I have to bold them. Also, missing from my tool bar is a font function. I cannot change font style or size. Quite frustrating.

of summer baseball games

Andrew just got back from the Nationals game he attended with Brig. It was nearly 11pm and he was bubbly and happy. He went into great detail about all the exciting things he saw, like the "baseball hats and bats" that he now wants for his chart (a bribery strategy long defunct, whose primary usefulness now is simply in referring to it; now I have implemented the Level Four Boy strategy, which I may detail in another post), and a difficult to follow story involving teasing his dad, waving, traffic and operating his power window. He reported that the white team from Washington DC lost, but that they were not disappointed. He certainly didn't seem disappointed.

He might as well have been standing in an airport with little missionary tags on his suit, he seemed that old to me. When did he truly transform into this real person big kid?

I think I am going to be a very weepy lady someday.

He locked us out as we tried to reenter the house after a quick car clean-up. I love that little boy.

An easy laugh

This is my new favorite website. If Brigham is not tired enough to get really weird and make me laugh, I have a new alternative.

And maybe, just maybe, I have a new goal besides having someone I love featured on America's Funniest Home Videos.

If Price Were No Object

This is the house I would live in. It is on my very favorite street in the entire DC metro area. You can't miss the virtual tour.

This is the mascara I would use:


This is the school I would send the boys to. I like a single-sex education, and I like the particular method of this school. Of course, I also love Fairfax Christian, so long as it remains what once was, even if it lacks the uniforms, that is where they would go for K-4. (I am very pro-uniform.)

I know I should have a car of choice, but in reality I don't know much about cars and don't have any real desires beyond a minivan (or maybe Suburban?). Leather interior is as far as I really get.

I told Brigham that if I lived in that house on Newark St that I would never have occassion to be irritable again. He doesn't believe me, but I would like him to call my bluff.

In the market for an alarm clock

Will has been my alarm clock for the past 20 months. He has never slept past 7:30 in his life. Until about 10 days ago, he woke up at least once a night, usually two, sometimes three and occassionally more. I do not say this to martyr myself; on the contrary, I admit it even though it embarrassingly reveals my poor skills at sleep training. I can give you all my excuses some other time.

My life transformed a week and a half or so ago when I had a conversation with Will about his night wakings. I told him that he was not to wake up anymore during the night. We read the two books in the Goodnight Moon (My World is the other book)series every night (and prenap) that week and I emphasized how contented the little bunny was in his bed and crib. Somehow, all of this worked from the first night of it. Will has been sleeping through ever since.

Saturday was a landmark day in our home. Andrew came in our room in bright sunlight and woke us up. I got in the shower, wondering what time it was, as I had my sister's baby shower to attend at 10, and some fruit salad to buy before that. I figured it was around 9, a typical wake up for Andrew, who goes to bed at 9 during the summer (the previous night he didnt go down until 10:30, though, for very important and justifiable reasons which I cannot recall). I marvelled that Will not only slept through the night, but slept in. We don't have a clock in our room. We have never needed one.

"Alexandra, it is 10:30!" Brigham exclaimed, ruining my leisurely shower. 10:30. Needless to say, I was an hour late for my sister's party.

I can tell she is going to be a great mom already. She wasn't even mad at me.

Local History: Sully Plantation

We went to Sully Plantation last month with my sister and her children. It may be dramatic, but not exaggerating, to say that the experience was such that "a more spiritual [wo]man than myself might have achieved levitation." (if you have not already read For Esmee With Love and Squalor, stop reading this and get your hands on the short story right now!)

We learned a lot. The kids learned that if they get too close to the well, a white haired man will come out and terrify them away, telling them that if they fell in there would be no way to get them out again.

My sister and I learned that the plantation was originally owned by Robert E. Lee's grandfather, Henry Lee II and later his uncle, Richard Bland Lee. We also learned that Henry Lee's wife and first lady of the home, Lucy Grymes, was reknowned for her great beauty (she was known as the Lowland Beauty). She received a marriage proposal from George Washington, but she considered him too poor to be suitable. She lived to see him become the nation's hero. Talk about a road not taken experience.

The kids seemed to absorb that the Lees lived with a white squirrel as a household pet. I am certain they at least took notice of the stuffed albino creature.

We saw all the bedrooms.
My favorite was the girls' (neices to the Lees) room; this photo does not capture why. The younger girl had carved her little name in the window, but the pane was later broken during restoration. It was the only pane of glass to break in the entire home. It is the window to the left.
Will loved the cradle in the master bedroom, so I had to get a shot of him showing it to me for the millionth time.

This is the downstairs study. Cordelia, the older niece, was married in this room and the room was set up as it was the day of her wedding. That green sofa was there that day, too. Don't you love it? I loved this room, and the original sofa and the wedding story and set-up made me love it more.


We learned that the schoolhouse was in a large room upstairs. They used the McGuffy Eclectic Readers, the same I used as a 4th grader at Fairfax Christian School.
(I recognized even then what a tremendous education that school was, and if it is still the same now as it was then, I will do whatever it takes to send my kids there.) Why would any school use anything aside from McGuffy's?

The kids got to try out the hornbooks, the slate boards etc.


We learned about making thread and yarn. This was Andrew's favorite room.
Lucy Gryme's wheel from the early 1700s is still there, too.

We talked about the contrast btwn the master house and the slave quarters.


We realized that our tour was way too long for little kids and that we lacked the skills to properly assist our guide in giving us a redacted version. His method of redaction was to go on and on and on about a few rooms and then not show us the kitchen at all
We learned that there is a Costco 5 minutes from the Plantation and it is a perfect place for 5 hungry boys, one other boy and a girl to eat lunch.
We will be back soon. Make that volunteer tour guide earn his money.

Thoughts

We have been up to a lot and I have many photos to satisfy grandmaternal hearts, but I thought I would link to some thoughts I have been having on the political scene. I have always somewhat followed politics, but lately I have been feeling almost a basic free-floating anxiety about the state of affairs. The booming budget deficit, an impending man-made health care disaster (if it passes) . . . I feel like I am on a ship headed for a waterfall and everyone else on board is happily going along for the ride. Our poor children. I fear they will never recover from the disasters we are creating for them with our selfish and short-sighted political choices today.

Please, if you disagree with me, I would love to hear your words of comfort. I have truly never more wanted to be wrong. Read here, if interested.

Happy Father's Day and Birthday, Brigham

Interview with Andrew re his father:
Q: What makes your daddy happy?
A: Drawinging a love card for him.

Q: What makes Daddy sad?
A: When you don't give him a love card
(editor's note: Andrew did not give his father a love card)

Q: What do you do to make Daddy laugh?
A: Tell jokes like "chicken with pink underwear."
(editor's note: does this mean we should stop laughing at this joke?)

Q: What is Daddy's job?
A: To earn money. (after some more prodding) He's an attorney.

Q: What do you and Daddy do together?
A: Wrestle.

Q: How do you know Daddy loves you?
A: Because I just love him. Because he just loves me.


Interview with Will re his father:
Q: What is Daddy's name?
A: Um, Deebum. Deebum. Yeah.
(Editor's thoughts to self: is that better or worse than Brigham?)

Q: Is Daddy big or little?
A: Little.

Q: Is Daddy funny or mean?
A: Funny!

Q: What do you like to do with Daddy?
A: Jump!


Andrew has taken several opportunities lately to let me know how much his dad means to him. Here is a transcript from a recent coversation:

Me: I miss Daddy.
Andrew: Why?
Me: Becaues I like it when he is here. Don't you miss him?
Andrew: (sadly) Yes, I do.
Puts hand on my shoulder consolingly: I just love him more than you, Mommy.
Then, to clarify: I just like Daddy better than you.

Andrew reported to me tonight on the drive home from my parents' house that he "follows Daddy everywhere." "If he goes upstairs, I go upstairs. If he goes downstairs, I go downstairs. I just want to be with him."

I hope that is a type and shadow of things to come.

Flying Leap

I was ignoring my kids while reading people's blogs when I heard Will's tiny voice call out: "Flying Leap!" This is what I saw.
He actually worked up the nerve to jump off.
We played this game on my bed (jumping off the frame) for a while yesterday. The water tables I set up for them today only bought me so much time and one (andrew) wet kid. Andrew has removed his shorts because of an earlier episode of puddle jumping.
Now we are playing a variation of Hide and Seek that involves me morphing btwn myself, a wild clown and a dangerous Rhino. Andrew gets really afraid of Rhino me so I have to quickly morph back into the wild clown. Will likes it. I wonder what that means?
Also, does this mean they will go to sleep tonight at a nice decent hour?

Bits and Pieces from Today

I discovered a small fledgling in the back of our car today when I went out to, what else, retrieve the kids' shoes. I think by far the most likely scenario was one in which the bird got folded up in our stroller, left out for a few hours btwn the afternoon walk and the final load-up after our weekly Sunday dinner at my parents' house. They have lots of wrens.

If I had known at the time that it was a baby, I would have reacted differently. I placed calls to several different places: Fx County animal control and two Wildlife Federations in the area. Left messages everywhere but the County. I had a feeling that I should just wait for the Crazy Bird Lady to coach me (she was actually a lovely woman, the epithet was pre-conversation and shorthand for those people out there who love very specific types of animals and know everything about them. Wildlife Rehabilitationist is the formal title for these wonderful people. I wish I had waited for Nora, the area Songbird Rehabilitationist (as opposed to a Rehabilitationist for other types of birds).

The animal control lady came and frightened that tiny little bird out of my car and under it using her retractable baton. (I guess she and Andrew were on a similar wavelength; he wanted to use his plastic sword. Why is it that I could reject his suggestion but acquiese to her?) She had the air both of a brute and an expert. Maybe it was a combo of the gun and the "animal control" insignia on her uniform. The masculine authority with which she pronounced the bird perfectly fit and ready to just hop off to his business reassured me just enough to ignore by better judgment. "Just scatter that birdseed by it and it will be ok," s/he commanded from behind reflective sunglasses. So I did. The poor little thing just cowered and chirped his heart out. I took courage in the chirping; it showed he was strong.

It was all the more heartbreaking when Nora called and explained that the chirping was a desperate attempt to call to his mother. She was able to determine over the phone by my description and the sound of the chirp that the bird was a wren and a baby. The lack of tail that I had worried was a sign of injury was actually a sign of babyhood and lack of ability to fly. Worst, it is also a sign that he is not yet ready to feed himself, either. His chirping was a cry of hunger.

If you find a baby wren, they can be feed watermelon, peeled grapes or blueberries. Hold the fruit on a toothpick over the bird's mouth. Never attempt to give water, as you will drown the poor thing. Just call me and I'll get you in touch with Nora.

The birdseed was worthless; it would be like putting a cup of milk in front of a day old baby and expecting him to drink. The thing to do was to catch him and bring him back to my parents' house where his mother could find him. But as she explained this, the bird flew three feet away onto a low branch of a tree, which he then hopped up and up and up until I couldnt see him anymore. A few hours later I didnt even hear his chirps any longer. The babies need to eat every hour.

The worst part is that he almost beat all the odds. He survived being inside a stroller as it was folded up. He made it through the night in the car in the summer. He even hopped into the car of a person who was ready to call anyone and do anything necessary to help the bird. I even had him in a box at one point and was going to return him to McLean. But I listened to the wrong person. It is worse than the nest full of little birds that feel down onto our patio, our gruesome Sunday morning discovery.

Andrew went on a safari to find the bird, bringing along his little "binoculars!" (two toilet paper rolls glued together).

At dinner, I told the boys about the canker sore on the left side of my mouth and the cut on the right inhibiting my ability to eat. Will insisted that I had gum and was jealous. Andrew pitied me. "Oh no! I am so sorry to hear that!" Such genuine concern from the boy who often tells me, in all sincerity, that he prefers his father.

I have had a few sweet occassions lately to hear my own words come back to me from Andrew's mouth, like yesterday on our walk (the Iceberg stroller growing in stature, grace and hue to meet our poor Titanic wren) when Andrew took Will's hand and said, "Oh look what I found! A little cute baby hand!"

It makes up for Will throwing things and then shouting, "damaged!", reminding me of my attempts to cover for an instance of cursing (the stroller fell down the steps of our front stoop with 12 month Will strapped inside!) and Andrew seizing upon this new exclamation repeatedly. Telling him that I said "damaged" was the best I could think of to remedy my foul-mouth toddler. When did Will pick up on this? I am just glad he picked up on the red herring word.

Andrew grilled me over the nature of God and the creation of man as he ate his Scooby Macaroni and occassionally demanded if a given shape were the Mystery Van. I could never give a noncommital response. Even though I often don't know an answer, and want to build a reputation for unflinching truthfulness with him, he detects evasion in my "It looks like it is" and challenges again, "But is it? Is it?" at an increasing decible until I just lie and agree and promise and reassure.

"How did God make our bodies?" I try to answer. "How do people make bodies?" He immediately follows it up with some hypothesis of God pouring water on a magic table to create people. Is that from The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe? "I just learned it myself."

"Can God destroy people?"

"Yes."

Gasp of air and look of fear combined with elation, "So He is dangerous!" His eyes are dancing with excitement! Will starts talking about King Kong. Is that what the boys think God is like???

"He can, but He usually doesn't." Wondering if I am preaching false doctrine.

"I belive that Jesus is real."

I just felt grateful we take him to Church every week.

And grateful that he is aware of even the sparrow falling from the sky.