Kiddo had Roseola last week.

For those of you who may not know, Roseola is a sneaky disease. It poses as possibly a dozen other things for days before your kid’s fever breaks and then this weird looking rash randomly appears on their body and they turn into a Cranky Monster.

It all started last Sunday night – we had kiddo’s birthday party at my parents’ house that afternoon, and a little after midnight he got suddenly and violently ill. By morning he was running a fever, and by the way he reacted when I tried to take his temperature with the ear thermometer I had a feeling it was an ear infection. We ended up at Urgent Care that night (for both of us – I’m dealing with strained rib ligaments and was in so much pain I was in tears and couldn’t lift my son) and he did indeed have inflammation in his ears. They gave us a prescription for antibiotics and told us to keep giving him Tylenol or Motrin as directed, and home we went.

Me? I got nuthin’. Because I’m pregnant and there are like, oh, five medications in the entire world that I can take. So basically I get to just ride this thing out. I’m better now – in way less pain. It’s just taking time and caution. I try to lift the kiddo as little as possible and I haven’t exercised in way too long.

Kiddo’s fever lasted for three days. It stayed above 100 the entire time unless he was on Tylenol, which he started refusing because the antibiotics tasted nasty, so he refused all medicine.

We visited our pediatrician three times during the week. The first to make sure he wasn’t getting dehydrated, since he was barely eating or drinking and vomiting quite a bit. He was fine, thankfully.

The second time, it was to get an antibiotic shot. He was throwing up every time we gave him the oral antibiotics, and what good is medicine if you’re not keeping it down? We hated getting him a shot, but we reasoned that getting it over and done with all at once was going to be better for him than having to hold him down and force medicine down his throat twice a day only to have him throw it back up immediately. He took the shot like a champ – cried but didn’t scream – and recovered just seconds after the nurse was done.

They also told us about these acetaminophen suppositories we could use on him since he wasn’t taking oral meds at all…and I will say nothing more about that except I have now done things as a parent I never imagined myself doing…

The fever broke sometime Wednesday night. He woke up Thursday happier but still tired and much crankier than his normal laid-back happy self. He ate and drank a little more and still slept a lot.

Friday, when I went to change his diaper after getting him out of bed, there was this weird hives-like rash all over his torso! It freaked me out. I wracked my brain for anything we had done differently that might cause him to have a reaction like that, but nothing came to mind. All his lotions and soaps and our laundry detergent are fragrance-free and dye-free, and he hadn’t had any different food. Besides, in the past when he’s had allergic reactions his eyelids always swell. Always. Without fail. And his eyes were normal.

Hence trip #3 to the pediatrician!

They all kept asking about allergies, but Husband did a little research before we went and it sure looked like Roseola. Sure enough, our pediatrician confirmed it. There is nothing we can do to treat the rash. It’s not itchy or anything, it’s just there. Just a sign that he had Roseola. It explains everything he was going through – like I said before, Roseola can look like a dozen different things in the days leading up to the fever breaking and the rash appearing.

So now my kid just looks like I washed his clothes in the worst laundry detergent ever. The rash is gone from his torso, but currently covering his arms and legs. And his butt. At least it’s not itchy or painful. Nothing aggravates it, nothing makes it go away. It just hangs out until it decides it’s ready to leave.

And let’s not forget about the crankiness.

Child was – to put it delicately – not himself for a few days after the fever broke. It was like a cranky alien had taken up residence in his body. The fits he threw during those days were so epic, I had no idea a 2 year old could harbor that kind of rage. Every little thing set him off. It was exhausting. I could not calm him down. All I could do was put him somewhere he couldn’t hurt himself and walk away until the screaming subsided. It was awful. We did discover that if we turned on a certain DVD of baby worship songs and plopped him down in the middle of the floor in front of the TV with his Blanky, he’d chill out pretty quick.

I am now soooooo tired of that DVD.

Every online forum we looked at of parents whose kids had been through Roseola said the same thing – the fever breaks, and the kid warps into a little monster for a few days. Then it subsides and they return to normal.

We finally had a mostly normal day this past Monday. He threw one epic fit in the morning but was happy the rest of the day. He is now 100% back to his regular self.

So. That’s Roseola for ya. At least once he’s had it, he’s pretty much immune.

Thank goodness. Because that wasn’t fun.

I know, I know, how have we gotten halfway into December and I haven’t posted anything yet??? I’ll do an overview post this week. That’s easier than doing one post for every item, isn’t it?

But I did consider one thing worth its own post!

For many months now, we have had an issue with The Cup Throwing. It took place at the end of every meal – as soon as we said “All done!” kiddo would pick up his cup and hurl it with great force to the floor. Not angrily, he’d just expressionlessly pick up his sippy cup and launch it into orbit. Milk or juice would get splattered on the floor. And on more than one occasion, my bare or sock-clad toes were the landing spot of the cup. Which is not fun.

We tried everything. Disciplining him, ignoring it, all we could think of.

Until I had a lightbulb moment.

My son is a creature of habit. He knows his routines, he loves his routines, he thrives in his routines. So why not make the handling of the cup part of the post-meal routine?

Here’s how it had been going: Say “All done”, throw the cup, remove leftover food from highchair tray, clean up splattered beverage, clean up child, remove him from highchair.

And here is what I changed: Say “All done”, hand the cup nicely to Mommy or Daddy, remove leftover food from highchair tray, clean up child, remove him from highchair.

Why had I not thought of this before???

It was not easy to institute. Day 1, when he threw the cup, I calmly picked it back up, put it back on his tray, and explained that we were not going to proceed until he handed his cup nicely to me. He threw it again. I picked it up and explained again. He threw it again. I picked it up and explained again. And on and on the dance went. He threw that darn cup around a dozen times before he handed it to me. And that was just at breakfast!

I knew I had to remain patient and consistent. It wasn’t easy. Some meals went better than others. Breakfast was the biggest battle at first. And he threw fits. And he would hit me. When that happened, he got a time-out in his highchair. I just push it over towards the wall and turn the chair around so he’s facing away from everything. Very effective. Then, after he calmed down and “apologized” (leans in for a hug – child is still not talking) we’d try again.

It took a few weeks – good days, bad days – but the past few days, he has handed his cup over immediately! Cue happy dance!

Toddlers are not easy in a lot of ways. There are times I don’t know what I’m going to do, and times I wonder if I’m even doing anything right. But at the end of the day, I know my kid. And if I know my kid, I must be doing my job.

A little bit of encouragement in the often maddening maze of parenting a toddler.

…decent family photo!

Seriously, do you know what a big deal this is??? We tried to get a family portrait last year. Kiddo was having none of THAT business. In every picture he was sucking his thumb with his face half-hidden in my shoulder.

But this. THIS is pure family memory gold.

Okay, just to be clear, I don’t hate Black Friday. I pretty much avoid leaving the house at all costs on that day, but that’s just because I don’t do well in really crowded places and long lines. Just one of my little quirks. And the reason I try to go to Costco late on weeknights. I avoid that place like the plague on weekends.

Wait, where was I? Costco? No. Black Friday. That’s right.

Is it just me or does Black Friday get a little more insane every year? Bigger deals, bigger ads, earlier store opening times, the whole enchilada. Now, I love a good deal as much as the next person. Heck, my husband was in line at a store at midnight last night and I was a nice supportive wifey and told him to have a nice time. While I slept. Ahem. And then after I got up this morning I was on the computer clothes-shopping for Hubby because, duh, deep discounts and free shipping at the store we get most of his clothing at because they’re the only place we know of that carries his weird size in lots and lots of styles.

And their website did not crash three times and wipe out my cart and make me angry like it did last year. For which I am grateful.

So what I have to say about Black Friday has little to do with the actual shopping. It has to do with my heart.

I don’t have to tell you we live in a materialistic culture. And when Christmas rolls around, oh man, the retailers exploit that to the max. Advertising is everywhere – on the television, splashed all over the internet, on the radio, and lined up in a visual assault as you enter any store, even if you just need to pick up some socks that day. It can be hard to find a balance between being naturally excited and still keeping in perspective what Christmas is really about.

Because the thing is, when we start to talk about the real “reason for the season”, unfortunately we often come across as holier-than-thou. But if we’re excited about getting good deals on Christmas gifts, we can go too far to the materialistic side of things.

My brothers and sisters! Hear me! It does not have to be one or the other! We can find balance!

Christmas is multi-faceted. It’s the season of the birth of our Savior. It is a time to celebrate family and loved ones. It is a time to give and receive gifts. And all of the above can coexist in peaceful, happy harmony.

My perspective is a little different this year. We decided we would save up for Christmas, and whatever that budget is, that is what we have to spend. When it’s gone, it’s gone. Period. So those dollars are precious and we have to spend them thoughtfully. It’s made me think differently about gifts and realize that we can honor Christ with the way we give and receive.

I’ve always kind of thought differently about gifts. It goes back to when I was a kid. I remember when I would see commercials during cartoons for a flashy new toy, and oh did I want that toy! My little child heart desired it with every fiber of my being! I held on to hope that it would be wrapped in pretty paper for my birthday or Christmas. Usually, though, one of my friends got that toy first for whatever reason. No problem. I got to preview it! Woo hoo!

And then…when I saw it…when I played with it…it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the grand experience of the commercial. It was just something you turned on and sat and watched as it spun around and made noise and flashed lights. I came to realize throughout my childhood that I would rather have simple toys and my imagination than lots of flash and pizzazz.

As an adult, I’m kind of the same way. I like nice things, yes. But I like nice things I can use. Nice clothes I will wear for several seasons. Nice things for my kitchen I can use to make delicious food. Nice books I can read and make my imagination come alive. Nice music I can listen to that makes my heart soar.

And I love blessing people with gifts like that, things that speak to their hearts and have use in their lives.

This is where honoring Christ with gift giving and receiving comes in. With those precious few dollars we have carefully saved up to buy Christmas gifts, we have an opportunity to bless others. So this year, more than any other year, I’m thinking in terms of “What is a gift that would bless this person?” And I’m thinking in those terms for myself when others ask me what I would like as a gift. What are the things I would use and love for more than just a day? What are things I can use to bless others? Kitchen gear, for example falls into both categories for me, because I love preparing food for people. It’s one of my love languages or something! That’s why for the past several years kitchen items have been suggested a lot when people ask me.

So gift giving is about more than just ripping open paper. It’s an opportunity to really bless people, and to let others bless you too.

In conclusion, Black Friday does not have to be all evil. If you enjoy it, enjoy it! Use it as an opportunity to find gifts that would really bless people. You can have your Black Friday without being like the psycho lady in the red warm-up suit in the commercials for a certain retailer with a bull’s eye for a logo.

And if you’re like me and fear leaving the house on Black Friday, then cozy up on the couch with your hot beverage of choice and enjoy the opportunity to have a peaceful day at home.

I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving full of love and laughter and turkey, and I look forward to sharing Christmas with you as well!

This one’s for you, Maryellen. And for anyone else who I told I would eventually do a post on this recipe!

This is actually a Rachael Ray recipe I knocked off and modified. Fewer fancier ingredients, different vegetables, and a cauliflower topping instead of mashed potatoes. It’s now one of our family favorites, and when I made it to take to a potluck tonight I figured it would be a good time to take pictures.

For the filling:

2 large carrots

2 stalks celery

A small bunch of green onions, or 1 medium regular onion

About 2 cups chopped chicken

Some olive oil or butter (whichever you prefer – I use olive oil)

2 Tablespoons flour

1 to 1 ½ cups chicken broth

Pepper and seasoning of choice

For the topping:

2 heads of cauliflower

½ to 1 cup chicken broth

A handful of shredded cheese (I use mozzarella, but any cheese you prefer will do)

2 egg yolks

Some chopped fresh parsley

Get the broiler in your oven preheating.

Now, take your cauliflowers.

Break those suckers down. Not stabbing yourself in the hand as you do this would be recommended. Yes, I have done that before.

Get the cauliflower steaming. It will be done by the time you finish the filling and get it bubbling.

Take your carrots, celery, and onions.

Chop them up.

Heat your oil or butter in a pan, and add the vegetables.

Cook them for a couple of minutes, then scoot them to the side, add more oil or butter, and the flour.

Mix that all together and let it cook for about a minute, stirring frequently. Then, slowly add the chicken broth. The mixture will thicken like gravy. Add more broth to thin it out as needed.

Look at that bubbly goodness! Now is a good time to add the chicken. This is chicken I had from when I roasted a couple of whole birds earlier in the week. Handy to have for recipes like this!

Add your seasonings.

I use pepper (the chicken broth has enough salt in it already for me) and Simply Organic all-purpose seasoning. Gives a nice herby flavor without being overwhelming.

Cover, reduce heat, and let the filling bubble while you deal with the now-cooked cauliflower.

Put the cauliflower in the blender or food processor and take it for a spin, adding chicken broth to thin it out as needed. You’ll want it pretty smooth.

Put the pureed cauliflower back into the hot pot (after removing the steamer basket and dumping out the water, if that’s how you do it) and add the cheese, egg yolks, and parsley. Season with a bit of pepper as well if you wish. Mix thoroughly.

Dump the filling into your favorite casserole dish. My favorite is my red oval one. It makes me feel fancy. Like a TV chef.

Dump the cauliflower mixture over the filling and spread it out evenly.

Place it on the middle rack of the oven and broil until the top starts to turn golden brown.

When it’s done, sprinkle the top with a bit of paprika. It makes it pretty. Then dig in!

I don’t have any pictures of the digging in part. Because we took it to a potluck. And we ate it. And it was delicious.

Grown-up variation: You can initially deglaze the filling pan after the flour with ½ a cup of dry white wine, before adding the chicken broth. This is quite delicious, but toddler tastebuds do not always appreciate it.

I’ve been jokingly accused of being a Scrooge.

It’s not that I don’t like Christmas, I just have my preferences on some things.

Two things people automatically find Scrooge-ish about me: I don’t like pumpkin pie (which I’ve talked about before – it’s why I make cranberry-apple pie for holiday dinners), and I hate eggnog. Hate. As in, with a passion. I find it to be completely disgusting. I do not mind if Husband brings a carton of it into the house for himself to drink, but I will not touch the stuff. I tried for years to choke down a small glass of eggnog on Christmas Eve every year, until it occurred to me that I could say “no thank you.” There is no Eggnog Police making sure everyone drinks eggnog on Christmas.

If there were, that would be funny. Imagine the uniform potential!

I’m also fairly picky about Christmas music. The only Christmas music I listen to is Josh Groban, Andrea Bocelli, Celtic Woman, and Eden’s Bridge. If anybody knows any good artists of that genre who have good Christmas albums, feel free to recommend them. I’d love to expand my list!

And Christmas movies…there is really only one that I truly love. One that I will watch every year. One that makes me laugh and gives me warm fuzzies every single time I watch it.

This little gem.

We finally own it! Early Christmas present to ourselves. You know what I love about this movie? It truly captures the magic of Christmas without having to insert a love story or something like that. All it does is show Christmas through a kid’s eyes as you laugh at his family’s antics. It never gets old for me.

“You’ll shoot your eye out! You’ll shoot your eye out!”

Classic. Absolutely classic.

All of the above being said, I’m getting crazy into the Christmas spirit early this year. Already I have asked to play Christmas music while we’re doing housework during Caleb’s nap over the weekend. I don’t know what changed. There’s just something about it this year. I can’t wait to put up the tree and see what Husband does with the lights on the house this year (although we will still wait until after Thanksgiving to do those things – that’s just how we roll).

And I have the urge to get a big pot of cider simmering on the stove. Does anything say “Christmas” more than the scent of hot cider wafting through the house? While Josh Groban’s rendition of “The Little Drummer Boy” plays in the background?

I think not.

I know I’ve been kind of quiet on the blogging front recently. Life just got busy there for a while, and then I got sick there for a while too. First it was the nausea, which is GONE thank goodness. Then I came down with a nasty sinus infection that hung on for two weeks before I went to my OB (I go to my OB for everything when I’m pregnant) to get some help, then it took another week after that for it to clear up. In the meantime, I was wiped out from being sick and just did not have the brainpower to blog. I’d sit down, try to start writing, and go blank. So I just kind of rolled with it and took a break to rest and get over being sick.

And if I had blogged, it would have been about being sick, and I didn’t think you’d want the details of my nose-blowing, Zofran-popping existence from those few weeks.

Everything is going well in our household, though. I’m 14 weeks pregnant and feeling pretty good overall. The baby is healthy and we’ll get to find out the gender next month! Yay! Caleb is…well, he’s his happy adorable self, getting into everything and watching “Ratatouille” as much as I’ll let him and throwing fits like a champ when he wants to but always coming to Mommy for a hug to make up afterward. I love that little boy. Every time I look at him I just about can’t stand it. In a good way.

Husband has been really, really busy at work recently, bless his heart, but he got a much-needed break this weekend. I’m a teeny bit jealous that I didn’t get to go with him (I’ll tell you where he was when he gets back and has pictures for me to share), but I am genuinely happy that he got to go do what he did.

Speaking of which, It’s just about time for me to go pick up Husband at the airport! Schmoopy scene that will make onlookers gag and retch, here I come!

Home during the day and not feeling well, I turned on our streaming Netflix and chose a film that looked interesting to me. A documentary titled “Buck”. I’d seen the preview online some time ago and remembered it as intriguing, the story of a real-life “horse whisperer”.

And people.

WOW.

I’ve watched it again since then (I had to share it with Husband – he loved it too!) and I would watch it a third time. And a fourth. And maybe a fifth.

The insight this man has not just into horses, but into people and life, is extraordinary. Simple, yet profound. And what he’s able to do with horses is nothing short of astonishing. Beautifully filmed, it is a feast for the eyes and for the heart.

AND it’s rated PG so you’re getting a clean film in the bargain. Young kids might find it a little slow-paced. But it’s thoroughly enjoyable for older kids and adults.

Check out the preview if you’d like. Then go watch this film. I’m relatively sure you won’t regret it.

I have a thing for gravy.

See, my Momma taught me how to make gravy. Growing up, one of my jobs during holiday meal prep would often be to stir the gravy while Mom worked on other things. And she branded it into my brain – “Do not let the gravy burn! Scrape the bottom of the pot!”

Fast forward to when I was 19. I was in the intern program at our church. It was springtime, and most of the interns went away on a missions trip. There were a handful of us who didn’t get to go. One of the things we did was run the church café every Sunday.

That was when the gentleman in charge discovered something…

I didn’t let the gravy for the biscuits ‘n gravy we served burn.

It was one of his biggest pet peeves when whoever was on gravy duty let it burn. The day he realized I didn’t let it burn, he assigned me to Gravy Duty.

For the next six weeks.

That means I’d get to the church early – so early there was almost nobody else there yet – and shut myself in the kitchen with all the gravy fixings. It was the same routine every week – fry the Jimmy Dean breakfast sausage, add water, and dump in however much of the pre-made gravy mix they got at Sam’s Club was needed. And then use my at-the-time-massive biceps to stir the glue-like mixture until it was hot and bubbling. Retrieve the crock pot from the café, fill it up (one pot made two crock pots worth of gravy), and then be ready to run back out to the café with the rest of the gravy as soon as the crock pot was empty.

We usually went through two pots of gravy every Sunday. In the interest of saving time, I started making a third batch every week. I’d put it in big Ziploc bags, freeze them, and then on the following Saturday at some point I’d slip into the church kitchen and set those bags out to thaw so I could just toss them into a pot and let them warm up while I worked on Batch #2 of gravy. It was quite the efficient system. I felt pretty darn smart.

Oh, and apparently I was the best gravy-maker – there was this one couple who always, without fail, arrived early for church and would get biscuits ‘n gravy at the café every single week. One Sunday when I happened to be out in the café working (all my gravy must have been done for the moment), they came up to me, gave me a tip, and said “That’s because the gravy was so darn good this week!”

Yeah, I was pretty tickled.

However, due to my six-weeks-of-gravy-bootcamp experience, I can no longer stomach breakfast gravy. Nope, can’t do it. I can make it, but I’m not eating it.

I can, however, stomach turkey gravy. Especially Pioneer Woman’s! I made hers for a Thanksgiving get-together we did last year and oh my stars and garters, it was good.

And since Thanksgiving is so close now, I have turkey and turkey gravy on the brain. Big time. Like, I will sit and visualize turkey and gravy until my mouth starts to water.

How many days until Thanksgiving again???

…I’ve decided to go public with the fact that I don’t like the smell of laundry detergent. I know, what kind of freak am I that I don’t like the smell of laundry detergent? I prefer my detergent to be minimally scented. I know, random way to start a post.

…My fingernails grow really well, especially when I’m pregnant, but I can’t stand having long fingernails. They just get in the way! One of the best feelings in the world for me is typing on my laptop with freshly cut fingernails.

…I’m a homebody, but I have major cabin fever right now. I’ve been fighting off a sinus infection for a while, and then it got worse and I got way sicker, so now I’m in self-imposed quarantine until I’m better. I miss human contact with other adult women though.

…I am currently obsessing about turkey. Thanksgiving is quite possibly my favorite holiday. But then Christmas comes so soon after Thanksgiving that Christmas then becomes my favorite…it’s a vicious cycle. I am drooling over the idea of roasted turkey smothered in gravy.

…I’ve never professed to be the best of housekeepers, but between 1^st trimester woes (which are pretty much gone now, thank heavens!) and now this sinus thing I haven’t been able to keep up with the house even half as much as I did before and it’s actually driving me a little crazy.

…I have a baby belly. Definitely. Some would dispute that. To that I say, never tell a pregnant woman who says she’s showing that she’s not. Because then we think “Oh, so I just look FAT?” because our jeans won’t button and we’re overflowing out of our bras (sorry for the TMI there).

…I’m feeling pretty good as a person right now. Less insecure, less prone to irrational thought patterns. It’s nice. I like it. I’m not perfect but right now I’m in a really good place.

…I need to start planning pies. I always make cranberry-apple pie for Thanksgiving, and my Grandpa has ordered a lemon meringue pie for Christmas Eve. I know, lemon meringue is not what immediately comes to mind when one thinks of a pie for Christmas Eve, but it’s his favorite. I made one for Memorial Day and he loved it. Everyone loved it.

…Incidentally, don’t you just hate it when you get a lemon meringue pie from the store bakery and it really should be called “meringue lemon” because there’s, like, six inches of meringue on top of a quarter inch of lemon filling? Lame. That’s why Grandpa (and all my other family members with a love for lemon) loves my lemon meringue pie. More lemon than meringue. And I also added extra lemon zest to the filling, so it was extra lemony.

…Which leads into the fact that I’m going to try making my own crust again. It didn’t go so well the last time I tried it. The crust tasted fine, but I just couldn’t quite get it to the right texture to work well with. I had a hard time getting it rolled out and put into the pie dish. There are a ton of methods and recipes, but I think I’ll give Pioneer Woman’s a try, because it’s in her cookbook with step-by-step pictures. I need pictures, people!

…Did I mention I’m now 13 weeks pregnant? Officially out of the 1^st trimester! Woo hoo!

…Caleb is walking so strong now. He’s still just a hair less steady than most kids his age but he’s improving week by week. He just loves walking. We did physical therapy for a little while just to help get him going and figure out what Daddy and I could do to help motivate him, and that was great. He’s making such steady progress now that the physical therapist cut us loose after our last appointment.

…We are still doing speech therapy. Which has also been great. Caleb is learning to communicate better and we’re learning ways to help him communicate, so it’s a little less stressful around here. Love that we have so many resources available to us. What a blessing. Caleb loves his speech therapist by now and goes to the door to meet her when she arrives. He knows she brings cool toys!

…Caleb is going to be two years old in about a month. Yikes! Where did the time go?

…We’re not sure how much of a birthday party we’re going to do this year. Last year we went all-out for his first birthday, and we just don’t think we can do that again this year for multiple reasons. And that’s okay. It’s just where we’re at right now. So if you don’t get an invitation for a big birthday party for Caleb this year, it’s not because we don’t love ya. Because we do. Love ya. And all that jazz.

…And I think that’s all for now. Husband is out running errands and texted me to say he has chocolate. For me. Yay!