Ivar has some news to share...
That mushroom shaped loaf in the oven is supposed to be a bun. As in, we're pregnant! Expecting our second baby sometime in mid July.
I took the test one night when Rory was out with his brothers. This was the forth month I took the test and was really banking on another not pregnant result. I had planned in my head that I'd take it and let myself be disappointed on the couch that night while Rory was gone.
But lo and behold, that second line appeared. At that same moment the cat was trying to paw itself into Ivar's room, so I had the cat in one hand, the stick in the other and kept repeating to Toonces the big news. He didn't care. He just wanted down.
I didn't know when Rory would be home and was dying with all the time I suddenly had on my hands. So I googled "fun ways to tell your husband" and ended up wrapping the pregnancy test, making an invitation to the birth of our baby, put a bun in the oven, threw one in the toaster oven and tried to keep myself occupied.
Rory came home and I was waiting to read his mood. Maybe he'd be too tired and I'd wait until morning to have Ivar give him the positive test. It would be fun to have Ivar involved.
Rory was in a great mood, super chatty recounting the night. We were reheating some leftovers in the kitchen when he spied the toaster oven. In rapid fire, like some auctioneer, he blurted, "Do you know you left a bun in the toaster oven? Wait is that a bun in the oven? Do we have a bun in the oven?!!"
I was totally caught off guard. He pieced it all together so fast! I think it was my mother-in-law who later pointed out that I have clearly trained him well to look for riddles hidden around our house.
I was shocked! He wondered how I had wanted to tell him the news. I said I didn't know. I had like 14 plans and hadn't decided on one yet. But this was perfect. He figured it out.
We sat on the news for 6 minutes. Then Rory said, "I want to tell my brothers." And I suggested we wait until Thanksgiving when all the families are gathered anyway. And Rory repeated, "I think I want to tell my brothers. Like right now." He dialed Kyle. And then Troy. It was fun. It was high energy. We didn't get the flip camera out. :)
Within 24 hours all family knew. Even our little nieces and nephews, which basically means we were shouting it from the rooftops.
I had my 8 week check-up yesterday and got lots of blood drawn and a few shots. I'm not feeling great with this pregnancy. Totally different than Ivar, but I'll share more about that another day. For now, this is joyous news! We are having another baby!
My favorite story so far comes from Ruby, my four-year-old niece. Her mom had told her we were having a baby, but that it was a secret that she couldn't tell.
When I saw Ruby a few weeks later, I asked her, "Ruby, do you know I have a baby growing in me?" Ruby nodded and smiled and ran to her mom and said, "Mom! Aunt Becca already knew she had a baby in her! And I didn't even tell her!"
here's what's cookin.
I've been cooking lately. That's a big deal. I'm sort of an uninspired cook usually, excited to find ready-to-heat meals at Trader Joes, excited to make another eggs and potatoes breakfast-for-supper sort of meal. But lately, I've been chopping. And grating and things have been bubbling and my house smells amazing.
I'm not sure what brought about this change. I think seasonally, when it gets so cold, there is something in a Minnesota mama that wants to get her family real close and feed them warm things just to ward off the offensive temperatures. So we've had lots of soups and hotdishes.
I also read a quick read called My Homemade Life, a food memoir that painted a picture of the process of cooking that sort of challenged how I see myself in the kitchen. Typically, my goal is to get food on the table, bellies full and the kitchen cleaned up so we can move onto the next thing. This book made me wonder if I'm missing the joy involved in the simmering, the smelly garlic fingers that linger for days, the actual process.
This little shift has helped considerably. I'm not afraid to try new recipes. And as the food memoir recommends, I follow the instructions and ingredients exactly. That's always been my biggest problem. The Scandinavian in me tries to omit the chili peppers, and then wonders why her corn chowder is so bland. Well, I committed to the chile's and that recipe is pure gold.
So, since this little blog is my own journal of life happenings, and because I hope to reference these recipes that shined a bit brighter than the others, I thought I'd post the favorites with hopes of more chopping and mincing and simmering.
Pioneer Woman's Corn Chowder with Chiles
Land a livin. This was so good. Full of cream and butter and bacon, I welcomed it all and it did not disappoint. We ate most of a loaf of crusty bread with it, and that was key. It's a soup for dipping. Pioneer woman is not afraid of butter and cream, and I decided not to be either. But if you are, her recipes will freak you out. They will terrorize you in the night. But I'm not scared.
Pioneer Woman's Lasagna
I used her recipe from the cookbook, which is slightly different than this one on her website in that it uses fresh basil and parsley, and honestly, after eating it with the fresh stuff, I think I might be too snobby to go back. It was utter perfection for a lasagna. Saucy, but didn't fall into a soup when I served it. I mean, perfection.
Paula Dean and Jessica Sprague's Chicken Noodle Soup
I think I've blogged about this soup three times now. It is just that good. We use broth instead of stock and like that much better. And also we cook our own chicken breasts in the oven (using this method for oven roasting) and have much juicier chicken that way. And then we never add the noodles to the soup until it is time to serve. We cook them seperately and mix the soup and noodles in our individual bowls when it's time to eat. They don't get soggy and that's important. And I leave out the cream and Parmesan cheese, but will sprinkle some mozzarella on it if we've got it.
Tuna Noodle Casserole
I had a hankerin' and it wasn't going to go away. I doubled this recipe and it was fantastic. Hit the spot. And spots for days after as it made so much.
And another super easy, I love this meal: Trader Joes Naan bread (toasted), Hummus, Tzatziki Creamy Garlic Cucumber Dip, and chicken breasts seasoned with Lawry's and covered in fresh squeezed lime juice. This meal takes 10 minutes to put on the table and Rory will comment the whole time, "we should have this once a week." It's easier than frozen pizza!
Alrighty. Enjoy. Happy Eating. I sure am happy when I eat.
yarn globes
Have you met my niece Josie yet? She's the best. In the picture above she was dressed as a green bird for her middle school play, Seussical. She's fun, animated, kind and we adore her. Ivar adores her. She adores Ivar. It really works out well for everyone.
We got to have Josie over the Friday night before Ivar's Ball Party. I had seen tutorials for Yarn Globes before, but was thinking I'd probably scrap this decoration. It was getting to be to much. But with the news that Josie was coming over I got a second wind. If there is a girl I'd like to make a yarn ball with, it's Josie.
It was a total mess. And so fun. We worked hard on how to best execute this project and by the end, we were a slick machine.
Basically we are soaking the yarn in a combination of water, modge podge, elmers glue and flour..with no real ratio of one to the other. We just sort of dumped and stirred until it felt about right.
We made three balls and we got so slap happy. Might have been the glues we were sniffing, might have been that it was getting late, but I felt like I was in 7th grade again. We took breaks for huge bowls of icecream with chocolate syrup. We took breaks to watch America's Funniest Home Videos with Rory. We took breaks to watch Josie's dance routines for the play. We sang Sara Groves songs so that Rory had to tell us to keep it down or we'd wake the baby.
We hung the balls to dry in the kitchen overnight and then I brought Josie's to her at church so that she could pop the balloon and sneak it out one of the holes, leaving just the hardened yarn shell.
They made pretty decorations, and now they are hung over Ivar's crib, which delights him to no end. He points them out to me every time I put him down and every time I get him up. And I reply, "yep. those balls are still there!"
grandma b's funeral
The funeral was a sweet, sweet time of family. I kept thinking Grandma would have loved it.
I cried the hardest while the whole family was gathered in the basement of the church before we walked in for the funeral. Seeing us all together and knowing that it might just not happen ever again, was a death I was grieving, just as much as Grandma's. Obviously I'll see all of them over and over, but it won't ever be the same. Death to a chapter in life, I suppose. I know this from Grandma and Grandpa Harrington's deaths. I miss that we don't all drive to Waverly for Christmas and wander around HyVee and Walmart the day after Christmas with Uncle Mark and Aunt Jane. I miss lingering over the continental breakfast in the Super 8 before heading to the nursing home. I just miss that chapter. And I know something similar is about to change with the Bredbergs too. I am most sad for that.
***
My cousin Daron gave a great talk on Hope and Humming, reading Psalm 108 and telling how one can't really hum unless they have a deep peace inside of them. Grandma hummed all the time, no matter what she was doing. And that was an outward evidence of the joy and contentment she felt on the inside.
My cousin Mark told a story at the wake. He told about how Grandma had a way of making ordinary moments feel special, and how on the night before his wedding at the farm, they found the dress shirt he was going to wear the next day in the clean laundry. Grandma walked the shirt over to Mark's mom and asked her if she would like the honor of ironing the shirt her son was going wear the next day. Mark said his mom would typically pay no attention to such a small task, but somehow the way Grandma presented the shirt made the ironing feel important, sacred. And so she ironed the shirt and she still talks about how special that was for her, how much love and care she took and how Grandma helped her see the holy in the ordinary.
That's what I'm going to miss the most, I suppose. Grandma was a quiet work horse. Always a project. Always turning the ordinary into something sacred.
It was hard for me to really be sad about Grandma. There was time for closure, and many had a special moment of prayer, a verbal blessing, a heartfelt farewell. It was time. I feel very badly for my cousin Kathy who is expecting in May, that Grandma will never meet her first baby. And actually I feel most badly for Kathy and Sarah. Grandma was basically a second mom to those two, always folding their laundry, at every game, involved in every 4-H project. I was keenly aware of how different their grieving must be from my own. I was definitely the city mouse and they had grandma in the country. And now to have Grandma miss meeting Kathy's firstborn...I can't imagine how hard and disappointing that must be.
Her funeral was so full of Jesus and why we are here, and what it looks like to live a life for all the right reasons, focused on the truly most important things. Dad preached and did a really excellent job. Got in a political comment, just enough to make the whole family laugh/squirm, and somehow even that felt right.
I didn't get to see her apartment emptied out. I think that would have been helpful. Also, she didn't look like herself in the casket, I didn't think. Her lips were spread too wide. She definitely was not in that body anymore, that's for sure. During the wake she was in one room and the family was in another all together, laughing, eating, talking. And when I went to her casket I felt so convinced that I was touching a shell. The party was in the next room over. She would have been by the food.
***
Just one closing thought. I have shared a few conversations and emails with friends talking about how they wish they had such a family. And I guess I have two responses: 1) I wish you did too. and 2) This family is far from perfect. But the truth remains that love and forgiveness fill in a whole lot of hurtful places, because this family knows the Lord. And what is so inspiring to me, is that somewhere, generations before me, a husband and wife decided to bend a knee and made a promise, "as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord." And now, because of some great, great, great, great grandpa and grandma, I am living in the blessing of a Christ-filled family. There are hurts a plenty, but there is even more grace. That's the difference. So to the friends who wish their family behaved something like the Bredbergs, I guess I'd say, bend a knee. And you'll get be the great, great, great, great grandma or grandpa to some great, great, great, great grandchild like me one day. And she'll be unable to find the words to thank you for the gift you have given to her.
I cried the hardest while the whole family was gathered in the basement of the church before we walked in for the funeral. Seeing us all together and knowing that it might just not happen ever again, was a death I was grieving, just as much as Grandma's. Obviously I'll see all of them over and over, but it won't ever be the same. Death to a chapter in life, I suppose. I know this from Grandma and Grandpa Harrington's deaths. I miss that we don't all drive to Waverly for Christmas and wander around HyVee and Walmart the day after Christmas with Uncle Mark and Aunt Jane. I miss lingering over the continental breakfast in the Super 8 before heading to the nursing home. I just miss that chapter. And I know something similar is about to change with the Bredbergs too. I am most sad for that.
***
My cousin Daron gave a great talk on Hope and Humming, reading Psalm 108 and telling how one can't really hum unless they have a deep peace inside of them. Grandma hummed all the time, no matter what she was doing. And that was an outward evidence of the joy and contentment she felt on the inside.
My cousin Mark told a story at the wake. He told about how Grandma had a way of making ordinary moments feel special, and how on the night before his wedding at the farm, they found the dress shirt he was going to wear the next day in the clean laundry. Grandma walked the shirt over to Mark's mom and asked her if she would like the honor of ironing the shirt her son was going wear the next day. Mark said his mom would typically pay no attention to such a small task, but somehow the way Grandma presented the shirt made the ironing feel important, sacred. And so she ironed the shirt and she still talks about how special that was for her, how much love and care she took and how Grandma helped her see the holy in the ordinary.
That's what I'm going to miss the most, I suppose. Grandma was a quiet work horse. Always a project. Always turning the ordinary into something sacred.
It was hard for me to really be sad about Grandma. There was time for closure, and many had a special moment of prayer, a verbal blessing, a heartfelt farewell. It was time. I feel very badly for my cousin Kathy who is expecting in May, that Grandma will never meet her first baby. And actually I feel most badly for Kathy and Sarah. Grandma was basically a second mom to those two, always folding their laundry, at every game, involved in every 4-H project. I was keenly aware of how different their grieving must be from my own. I was definitely the city mouse and they had grandma in the country. And now to have Grandma miss meeting Kathy's firstborn...I can't imagine how hard and disappointing that must be.
Her funeral was so full of Jesus and why we are here, and what it looks like to live a life for all the right reasons, focused on the truly most important things. Dad preached and did a really excellent job. Got in a political comment, just enough to make the whole family laugh/squirm, and somehow even that felt right.
I didn't get to see her apartment emptied out. I think that would have been helpful. Also, she didn't look like herself in the casket, I didn't think. Her lips were spread too wide. She definitely was not in that body anymore, that's for sure. During the wake she was in one room and the family was in another all together, laughing, eating, talking. And when I went to her casket I felt so convinced that I was touching a shell. The party was in the next room over. She would have been by the food.
***
Just one closing thought. I have shared a few conversations and emails with friends talking about how they wish they had such a family. And I guess I have two responses: 1) I wish you did too. and 2) This family is far from perfect. But the truth remains that love and forgiveness fill in a whole lot of hurtful places, because this family knows the Lord. And what is so inspiring to me, is that somewhere, generations before me, a husband and wife decided to bend a knee and made a promise, "as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord." And now, because of some great, great, great, great grandpa and grandma, I am living in the blessing of a Christ-filled family. There are hurts a plenty, but there is even more grace. That's the difference. So to the friends who wish their family behaved something like the Bredbergs, I guess I'd say, bend a knee. And you'll get be the great, great, great, great grandma or grandpa to some great, great, great, great grandchild like me one day. And she'll be unable to find the words to thank you for the gift you have given to her.
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