Oreo Truffles

Would you look at these truffles? Who doesn't love truffles already, then Becky Higgins had to go and post the recipe for these decadent Oreo Truffles. Of course when I saw the recipe, I had to make them, just to see what all the fuss was about.

The first thing this recipe has going for it is the Oreos, the second thing is that it has only four ingredients. Yep, you read that right, four ingredients: Oreos, cream cheese, white chocolate chips (fake chocolate), and semi-sweet chocolate chips.

First you want to crush up all the Oreos, about 12 ounces, or 30 cookies. I wanted to have two different units of measure, just in case Nabisco decides to put the screws to us and make the packages of Oreos smaller. Everyone seems to be doing that these days. Man, they better not make the cookies smaller. 

Never mind, they already did. Have you seen those cute mini Oreos? Well, don't use those for this recipe unless you plan on measuring out 12 ounces, okay?

You can crush them in a food processor, a blender, or just stick 'em in a baggie and back over them a few times with your car. Or a rolling pin. Whatever works for you.

When they're crushed to the proper consistency, that of crumbs, they will look like this. Really clean dirt. Potting soil, whatever.

You're going to have to use your imagination because I didn't get a picture of this next step because I didn't want to get cream cheese all over my camera. You want to get right in there with your hands and start combining the Oreo crumbs with the softened cream cheese. Keep at it until you can't see any white anymore.

Then roll the mixture into one-inch balls. I got about 25 of them out of this recipe.

I put these truffles down on wax paper. You can put them closer together than I did. In fact, it will make it easier to drizzle the chocolate over them if they're closer together.

Next, melt the chocolate chips in a microwave safe bowl at 50% power in your microwave, stirring every 30 seconds or so. When it looks like this, scrape the bowl down and put the chocolate in a little snack baggie.

Like this.

Then cut a tinsy little corner off one side of the baggie. You only want to make a small hole here, don't go crazy.

Then just start drizzling chocolate willy nilly until you run out of chocolate. Try not to cry when the chocolate stops.

You have to keep these truffles chilled because of the cream cheese. Don't worry though, they won't stick around long, taking up valuable space in your refrigerator.

Unless you're a freak.

I really don't understand people who can have chocolate in their house for months. Heck, I don't understand people who can have it for days. I say eat it and get it out of the house.

Here's that recipe card, just in case you wanted to make them. Bon Appetit!

Old Fashioned Lemonade

Now that it's July and hotter than heck but not quite as hot as Texas, it's the perfect time to make lemonade. Not much sounds better to me than sitting outside under a shade tree with a good book and a cold glass of lemonade.

If you've never made lemonade, it's pretty easy to make, you just have to be willing to play around with the proportions, depending on how tart your lemons may or may not be.

My recipe starts with the juice of 12 lemons. I also set another lemon aside to slice and float in the lemonade. We happen to have a juicer, and it strains the pulp pretty well. I'm not a big fan of the pulp, but Peanut Head loves it.

Even though I strained the pulp, you can see that the process isn't perfect. It sure is tasty though.

Want a glass?

Here's the basic recipe. Don't be afraid to tinker with it and adjust it to your own personal tastes. You might also like to try Strawberry-Watermelon Lemonade for a different spin. It's one of Peanut Head's specialities.

Teriyaki Pita Pockets

I don't know about you, but I don't like to use my oven much during the summer. We have to eat though, so that means finding different recipes where I can use the grill instead of the oven. This recipe for Teriyaki Pita Pockets is super easy and has just a few ingredients. And best of all, they're yummy.

The first step is to marinate the chicken breasts, and I know they look gross. There's just no way to PhotoShop raw chicken to make it look yummy, so we're just going to have to get past appearances.

Two chicken breasts is plenty for four servings, so that's what I have here, even though it sort of looks like a brain. Yeah, getting past that.

This is what I use to marinate the chicken breasts. The brand isn't important, just look for Teriyaki Marinade and you can't go wrong.

Now, I don't generally like to show off in the kitchen, but I would like to show you how to cut up a pineapple. These pita pockets need pineapple, so let's get to it, shall we?

First, you're going to need a special tool to cut up your pineapple.

Do you have one of these?

Ha, ha, ha. I kill myself. I would never in a million years cut up a pineapple. I'd probably amputate a limb in the process.

So the chicken has been marinated and the pineapple has been cut. We're ready to grill.

I like to use this glaze too, it makes the pita pockets extra delicious. I use it on the pineapple slices and the cooked chicken breast.

Stinkerbell is brushing the glaze on the pineapple slices here. You want them to cook long enough on each side to get nice little charred grill lines on them. That means you have to be patient and not keep flipping them, okay? Brush the glaze on one side and let them sit there for looooong minutes, take a peek at one, then when they're ready, flip them over and repeat.

We're not there yet, although the chicken is looking good.

That's what I'm talking about.

We need some lettuce for our pita pockets.

And some sauce. It's basically mayonnaise and Teriyaki sauce. It really doesn't appeal to me because I detest mayo, but I can deal with it for the sake of the Pita Pocket. Peanut Head likes mayo and he insists that this sauce is perfect.

When the chicken is done, I like to cut it up into bite-sized pieces and then toss it with a little Teriyaki glaze.

Once everything is cooked, you just spread some sauce in the pitas, stuff some lettuce in there, a couple pineapple rings, and some chicken, and you have dinner.

You can warm the pitas ahead of time, either in the microwave or the oven. However, when you go to buy Pita Pockets, pay close attention to the packaging. Make sure they say Pita POCKETS and not Pita BREAD. I made that mistake once and I couldn't get the Pitas to pocket.

Here's the recipe card in case you like exact measurements. Enjoy!

Giving Up Control

If you haven't read part one, you might want to do that first, but then come back here and read the rest of the story, okay?

So, we left off with Peanut Head unpacking my kitchen and the sky is falling, right? Things can only get better.

The movers came and went. I had been home and on bed rest for about four days and I was going out of my mind. Granted, I didn't have far to go, but I was crazy in a my-head-will- implode-if-I-have-to-bed-rest-another-minute kind of way. I had already mentally scrubbed my house from top to bottom, painted the entire inside of the house, arranged all the furniture, completely assembled and decorated my dream nursery, and emptied out the kitchen and unpacked it my way. I had nothing left to do. 

In the fantasy world inside my head.

I could not take another minute. I had to do something productive. So I crawled into the master bedroom, rationalizing that technically I was still semi-horizontal, sat on the floor of the closet and started unpacking and arranging shoes. In private. Peanut Head was downstairs wrestling with the new water softener he was installing.

And then I peed my pants. Right there. On the floor.

Can you believe that mess? I hadn't peed my pants since the first grade and I had that teacher, Mrs. Scary Face. I was too scared of her to ask if I could use the restroom so, of course, the logical thing was to just pee my pants instead. Well, I wasn't doing that anymore, so what the pregnancy bladder was this all about?

I decided to just ignore it and pretend it didn't happen. Denial is my BFF.

Then I peed myself again. And again. And again.

And Jiminy Cricket, what is going on? I don't pee my pants. I'm OCD and I wash my hands obsessively.  And I don't pee my pants.

Well there's a time for everything, and I'm sure one day, hopefully a very long time from today, I will pee my pants again. But that's not what really happened, you know that right? I'm sure you are much smarter than I was. What really happened was my water broke. I didn't know that though because I hadn't gotten to that chapter in my pregnancy books, and therefore, it could not happen yet. DE-NIAL.

Obviously, the next step was labor. I have a relatively high threshold for pain, so in my world I was having Braxton-Hicks contractions, not labor. It was perfectly normal and I had experienced the contractions before. They got stronger and stronger and then man, did it hurt like a Mama. I had to crawl back to the living room and lay back down on the couch. I had a couch now, isn't that nice?

It got progressively worse and then I decided I should tell Peanut Head what was going on. I yelled to him to come out of his Expletive Fun House of installing the water softener, and he was not happy about being called upstairs to cater to me again. Until he saw my face.

Then he grabbed the car keys and we were off. He dropped me off at the ER and he went to park the car. I walked up to the admit desk and said in as chipper a voice as I could muster "Guess what?! I'm in labor and I'm only 32 weeks. Y-a-a-ay!" Even in times of trauma I can't suppress the sick sense of humor.

I was in a wheel chair faster than a speeding bullet. In spite of all the pain, it was a fascinating thing to witness the medical machine in all it's efficient motion. I was on a bed with a stranger's fist up my hoo ha before I knew it. And I didn't even care.

A lot is a blur to me eight years after the fact, but certain things fade slower. Like the pain. The Fist up my hoo ha told me I was dilated to 9 cm, which as I mentioned, I did not possess that knowledge yet, so I didn't really get what was about to happen. Then The Fist said something about baby parts hanging out and I was all "What? A WHAT? There's something inside me?"

Let me explain. When I was pregnant with Zoe, the whole thing was very fantasy-like. I don't think you can ever really prepare yourself for parenthood and understand what your life is going to be like when you are responsible for a little alien 24-7. I think that's the way God intended it to be. I remember being handed a baby to hold when I was six months pregnant and it really startled me. I clearly remember thinking "Oh crap. I'm about to pop one of these things out. What have I done?"

So, you can maybe understand my surprise when learning that reality was about to crash my party. The rest of Zoe's arrival was an absolute blur, but I do remember the pain. Peanut Head was sitting there, trying to hold my hand and stroke my forehead and I was all "DON'T TOUCH ME! GET A-WAY. I can't do this. I HAVE TO LEAVE NOW!" It was the worst feeling I've ever had. In my pain I just wanted to be left alone to deal with it, and I couldn't handle any unnecessary touching. I was on sensory overload and all I wanted to do was stand up and get the alien out. Alone.

Except that no one would let me get up. I really saw red then. Being on my back when I was in that kind of pain almost sent me to the crazy house. Thankfully I didn't have to endure it for very long. Since Zoe was breach, I had an emergency C-section right after the announcement by The Fist. That was a pretty cool experience. The anesthesiologist is my other BFF and he paralyzed me from the waist down. Temporarily, of course. The sensation of the tugging and then Zoe being popped out of my body like an overripe zit was bizarre. 

The next several weeks were surreal and exhausting. Zoe was born 8 weeks early, but still a pretty good size for a preemie at 3 lbs. 12.5 oz., and we were very fortunate. That butt shot really did the trick, because she never needed a ventilator, and we were so thankful for that. She was in the NICU for four weeks though, and there were some ups and downs during that time period, but it was all worth it in the end.

Looking back, we're so thankful that this happened with our first. I can't imagine how people deal when they have kids at home. How do you even survive that?

Becoming a Daddy changed Peanut Head. When I was pregnant he was pretty detached, at least outwardly, about the whole thing. After all, his body wasn't being occupied by an extra terrestrial, why should he feel any different?

But once Zoe came, it was all over for him. One day I rushed to the NICU to be there in time for Zoe's 11:00 a.m. feeding and he was there. I was a little bit jealous that he beat me there, but at the same time very touched that he would sneak out of work for an early lunch to feed his baby.

I spent most of my days in the NICU, but every night when Peanut Head got home from work, we would go to the NICU together. He would rock Zoe and sing to her. It was the sweetest thing.

We were very fortunate to be so close to a hospital that was equipped to care for preemies. The doctors and nurses were amazing and we will be forever indebted to them. We have so much to be thankful for.

I have a hard time remembering just how small Zoe was. I look at the preemie clothes that she was just swimming in then, and I can't even comprehend it. It doesn't seem real. And there were much smaller babies than Zoe in the NICU. And much sicker babies.

It was very hard to leave her there every night. Even though we knew she was getting the best care, we wanted her at home.

We got to participate in much of her care in the NICU, and that was a good thing because we had no idea what we were doing. We were clueless newbies and we needed classes.

And apparently I also needed some product and a new do. Geesh.

This is the look that Zoe would give us every evening when we tucked her in for bed. It was a piercing look as if she were saying to us "Are you really going to leave me here?" To this day, she gives us this stone faced stare when she's unhappy with us. It's the knife that she plunges into our hearts, with a little twist at the end.

This was the first time Peanut Head bathed Zoe and it was so entertaining for me. He was flustered and awkward and I just watched and gave him helpful advice. He loved that.

After four weeks Zoe had gained a pound and learned to suck so we were able to bring her home. I'll never forget that day when we walked out of the NICU with her in the car seat. We kept nervously looking behind us for security to apprehend us. We whispered quietly "Can you believe they're just letting us walk out of here with her? Don't they know we have no idea what we're doing?"

Does every parent feel like this with their first?

Then we got her home and we really had no idea what to do with her. We put her in her cradle and then we just watched her and said "What now?"

I was a nervous wreck because I didn't want to leave her alone in case she stopped breathing, yet I couldn't stay with her every second. That first day home I sent Peanut Head out to buy a baby monitor and then we stumbled on to the next new parent learning experience.

Feeding Zoe was the most difficult part of those first weeks at home. I had been nursing her some in the NICU and pumping a lot, but she was supposed to get X number of ounces every two hours, so we couldn't rely on that since there was no way to know how much she had gotten. We had to rent a baby scale and weigh her before nursing, then after nursing, and then we had to give her a bottle to make up the difference for what she didn't get. Half the time she would fall asleep before we finished and we would have to try to wake her up. And this had to be done every two hours around the clock. It was exhausting.

That time eventually passed though, and Zoe quickly began packing on the pounds. She turned into a little chub within two months of coming home, and she hasn't had any lasting impairments from her prematurity.

Having Zoe early was a huge inconvenience, sure, but it was a good reminder that we can't control everything. Sometimes it's best to just let go and roll with the punches.  That's what we had to do with Zoe Bug, and we've been rolling so much since then that we're pretty good at doing somersaults now.

Except don't ask me which way is North when I get up. Ask Peanut Head.

Some Things Are Beyond My Control

This is our favorite baby picture of Zoe Bug. Partly it's because she didn't even start to look like a person until she was six months old. Now don't go getting all horrified that I would say such a thing about my own child, I'm just being honest.

Think about it, when you see someone else's newborn baby how often do you think, in your own private thoughts, that baby is so dang cute? In spite of how much we loved her, we did think Zoe looked like a baby alien--wrinkled, pink and scrawny for a long time.

Zoe did not come into this world the way I had it all mapped out. Like many expectant mothers, I had a stack of pregnancy books on my nightstand, and I was working my way through them week by week, keeping up with the chronological progression of my pregnancy. I didn't read ahead because I'm rigid like that.

Three months before Zoe was due, Peanut Head and I traveled out to Idaho to house hunt. He had just gotten a job here and we had three days to find a house. I was teaching sixth grade at the time and coaching track, and because I'm such a control freak and not excited about having a sub in my anally-run classroom, I figured two days was all I could handle doing damage control for. That and I had a track meet to pull off the day before the trip and I could not miss that. There were spread sheets to be created for all those stats and they had to be done right away. Just so you know, I have relaxed a little since those days. Kids kind of force you to stick to the moment and focus on priorities.

Because all you do all day is put out fires, but whatever, that's how it works now.

So we made it to Idaho and I had my 85-pound lap top full of all my precious spread sheets, circa 1998 and oh so high tech. We checked into our hotel, contacted our realtor, and then proceeded to look at 25 houses in a day and a half. All I can say about that is thank goodness we had no idea what we were looking for in a house, because if we had that to do over again it would have taken much longer. We made some mistakes, let's just leave it at that.

So we found the house and we had a day to just explore our new town and maybe buy some baby furniture. I was able to verify that I had access to a Michael's, Jo Ann Fabrics, Barnes & Noble, and Target, so I could totally live in this town.

It was all very exciting and a dream come true for me, because I didn't think I would ever have the opportunity to be a stay-at-home mom. This move was going to give me that opportunity. Looking back, and because hind sight is so illuminating like that, I was already in the early stages of pre-term labor. I felt like crap all the time, and this is gross so you might want to skip a bit, but I always felt like I needed to take a ginormous dump and there was no dumping to be done.

And I'm not talking about constipation here. I thought that's what it was, but I just didn't recognize at the time what was going on. I had continuous pressure down in the girlie bits region, like bowling ball pressure people, and it was creepy. But weird things happen to your body when you're pregnant, so I wasn't too alarmed by much of anything. My body was a Fun House during that magical time. Or a Freak Show, you pick.

But time marches on and things need to be done, so we went home, happy in the knowledge that we now had a house to move into and we had just four weeks to get ready to move to another state. We had baby furniture to buy still, moving arrangements to make, a track season and school year to wrap up and a classroom to pack up. It was all very stressful, but seriously exciting all at the same time.

The day came for us to leave. Because we're crazy and impatient, we left on the last day of school, right after school. It was a roughly 16-hour drive which we did through the night in order to arrive by noon the following day to sign our closing papers. We were in our Subaru with one dog, two cats and two rabbits and it was a party, let me tell you.

I was still feeling that creepy pressure, I had no energy to speak of, and in general I just felt like crap. Everything was a chore and I needed to sit down all the time. Now mind you I was only seven months pregnant, so I wasn't even at that uncomfortable stage yet. I just had a cute little basketball in my belly and I should have been feeling great and energetic. But I wasn't.

There were things to be done though. We needed to buy a refrigerator and purchase all sorts of other things that you have to have when you first move into a house, so I trudged on. I didn't want to be a stick in the mud, and I really was excited to be doing these things, I just would have rather done them without my body in tow. It was bringing me down, man.

Anyway, that first day was hard and it was so nice to lay down that night and go to sleep in our new house. On an air mattress on the floor. Seven months pregnant. Good times.

The next day I woke up and, without getting gory, let's just say that I had additional signs. Immediately I called my insurance company to find out what I should do. I was out of town and I didn't need to be leaving my PPO network blah-de-da without pre-approval. So I got that and off I went to the hospital.

But, OH CRAP, where the heck is the hospital? 

Peanut Head says "Um, I think I saw some signs. I think I can find it."

Thank Christopher Columbus that Peanut Head knows how to navigate and has a freakishly accurate sense of direction. Even after you put him on a Tilt-A-Whirl blindfolded and then ask him which direction is North-North-East minus a bearing of blah-blah-blah.

We arrived at the hospital and come to find out I'm in pre-term labor. Pre-what? Being the teacher that I am, I have an overwhelming urge to go buy a book to educate myself, but dang it, I'm hooked up to all these strange machines and somebody just gave me a shot in my butt. My butt! The indignity.

And the shot was a steroid shot, and frankly my butt needs no help in that department. Except that the steroids were to speed up development of Zoe Bug's lungs, not my butt. My butt was just the conduit. Great, huh? However, looking back, I thank my lucky stars for that shot, much as I did not enjoy it.

So I was in the hospital for three days, receiving all sorts of magical substances which I could not name if pressed, although I believe magnesium something or other was key, and I was able to come home, on bed rest.

Bed-what?!!! Do you people not know that I have a house to set up? The movers will be here in two days and there is unpacking to be done and situating to do. I AM NOT LETTING PEANUT HEAD SET UP MY KITCHEN!

I had no power. The best I could do was to get Peanut Head to set the air mattress up in the living room so I could direct traffic and boss everyone around. It was awful. I felt like a lump. I was a lump. It was hands-down the worst experience of my life, to sit there and watch what should have been the most exciting day of my life, an organizer's dream, and not be able to participate.

And then I had to watch Peanut Head unpack my kitchen. It could not get any worse than this. 

Oh, but it could . . .

Go here for the rest of the story.

My Boyfriend's Back

My boyfriend's back and you're go-o-o-o-nna be in trouble

Hey la, hey la my boyfriend's back

If you see him come, better cut out on the double

Hey la, hey la my boyfriend's back

You've been spreadin' lies that I was untrue-hoo

Hey la, hey la my boyfriend's back

Look out now cause he's comin' after you-oo

Hey la, hey la my boyfriend's back

Sorry. I couldn't resist. I really don't know where these things come from. This is a picture of Zoe Bug and her friend-that's-a-boy, Sean, that she has known since they were six months old.

Sean's inconsiderate-of-my-feelings mother moved him away to St. Louis years ago, and Zoe only gets to see him for a short week or two each summer. Hence the song.

I call this picture Horse Tooth Meets Beverly Hillbilly.

Today we went to visit Sean, his sister Maggie, and their mom, Suzanne. They're staying at Grandma Nancy's house because really, they came to see her, not us. We get worked in though, so I can't complain.

Would you look at that creepy bird trying to eat that poor butterfly? Thankfully they were strategically placed when I snapped this picture because Zoe Bug was lettin' it all hang out. It's a good thing she's only eight. It could have been ugly.

Here are Sean and Zoe on that same bench when they were eighteen months old.

Well, not really. I mean they were 18 months old but it's not the same bench. I lie embellish sometimes.

We were pushing them together, even at that young age.

But they're soooooo cute together.

We're Soopa Stars!

Come on Homey, let's cruise the mall.

Okay, enough of that. I wanted so badly to put a particularly sweet picture of Sean on here, but his Dad, R.S., is coming to trick out my computer this week and I so badly need that. 

R.S., which is short for Rocket Scientist because he really is a Rocket Scientist, is a manly man and he doesn't take too kindly to my adventures with the camera. Plus, I might've threatened to blow this particular picture up into a poster for his viewing pleasure. Instead, I decided to just sit on it until Sean is a teenager and I can really get the mileage out of it. Until then, you'll have to satisfy yourself with pictures of Pickle's boys playing dress-up. He hates me already, so I lose nothing.

Last summer I posted some layouts of this wicked awesome slide that Sean and Maggie's Grandma Nancy got for them. I love this slide.

Everyone loves this slide.

Grandma Nancy needs to get her yard fumigated for creepy birds and freakishly large butterflies. They are handy though. Annika's right bum cheek would not stay tucked in for anything and this butterfly happily obliged.

I love that.

Lucinda Gooseberry is Her Name, Sleeping is Her Game

So we finally named our little Kitten Britches. It took us awhile, but we've always felt we should get to know a creature before we saddle it for eternity with a rather unfortunate name.


I thought Lucy would be a super cute name, but we had to come up with a longer version that would be more of a mouthful.

Because we like to yell long, cumbersome names throughout the neighborhood when looking for our pets at curfew.

"Catalina Magdalena Hoopensteiner Wallendiner Hogan Logan Bogan Smith, here kitty, kitty. Time for be-e-e-e-e-ed!"

So, we decided that Lucy would expand out to Lucinda nicely. Then, since this cat sleeps all the time, and she lets Stinkerbell carry her around all day long, and she doesn't mind being swaddled and tucked and draped, we've decided that she's exceptionally laid back. As in loose as a goose.

Which, of course, translates to Lucy Goosey, which then expands out to Lucinda Gooseberry.

See, makes perfect sense.


And I am not responsible for this ridiculous tag. Seriously. Princess? Oh Geez. I'd like to think that this cat has loftier goals than finding her Prince Charming and living happily ever after.

Set a goal for yourself and do something with your life, Sister Girl. Come on.

But Peanut Head took the girls to pick the collar and tag, so I can't say I'm surprised. He's such a Girly Man.

Well, not really. I made that up. But he does have a manny pack that I really hope will spontaneously self combust.


I do love the glittery pink collar though. We do like our glitter in this house.