It has been unseasonably warm where I live. Normally right now it’s still cool enough to wear at least a light jacket when venturing outside during the day. Recently, however, our temperatures have climbed up into the low 70′s!

And you know what that means.

That, my dears, means it is time for ICED COFFEE.

At least until our bizarre Rocky Mountain weather decides to smack us with a spring blizzard. Because those happen.

Until then, though, I will drink my iced coffee in the afternoons.

I have discovered the beauty of the french press recently. French press coffee really does have a richness and smoothness that doesn’t occur with a drip coffeemaker. And we have this little miniature one that makes the perfect amount for a single glass of iced coffee!

I have a little trick for making my coffee – iced or otherwise – a little extra decadent. You can do this in a french press or in a regular coffeemaker. It’s especially nice on chilly evenings when making a pot of decaf for company.

Get your favorite coffee (or fake coffee, in my case), cocoa powder, and cinnamon.

Add a little cocoa powder and cinnamon to the coffee grounds before brewing.

Brew according to directions. For the french press, that means adding hot water and letting the coffee “steep” for the allotted amount of time.

Then you “press” the coffee down to the bottom of the pitcher and serve. So easy!

For iced coffee, I then transfer the coffee to a plastic cup and put it in the refrigerator until it’s cooled off enough.

Someday, though, I am going to try the cold brew method Pioneer Woman has raved about.

But I’ll take iced coffee any way I can get it.

Which today, means with a little sugar, ice, and almond milk.

I will never, ever get tired of this sight. Sigh. The cocoa powder and cinnamon brewed into the coffee add just a hint of flavor and richness. I love making coffee that way. Give it a try – I think you’ll like it too!

Fresh clean sheets at bedtime.

Typing right after cutting my fingernails.

The look of a fresh manicure.

Chubby-cheeked toddler kisses.

A mug of really good English tea with real cream.

Good hair days.

Love notes from Husband left in the kitchen.

Just-ironed shirts.

Crockpot dinners.

A quiet hour with a good book and a scented candle.

Long snuggles with Kiddo when he’s just waking up from a nap.

Leftover lasagna.

A good quality zester.

Hummus. Lots of it.

Baby moving so much my tummy contorts. (Okay, there are moments when that isn’t exactly what I would call a pleasure, but it’s still cool!)

The canister of the vacuum full of dirt from my hard work.

An empty dishwasher.

Clean towels, straight out of the dryer on a chilly afternoon.

A happy household.

28 years old, and I’m just now scratching the surface of who I really am, and what that looks like in a relationship with God.

I’ve been very confused for a very long time. I had this misperception in my mind, that if I did this “relationship with God” thing the “right” way, He would fix me. I’d become more like I was “supposed” to be. I’d become more driven, more disciplined, less over-sensitive, more outspoken, more confident, less given to fits of temper…and more. And all these things would just happen because I was doing it the “right” way. Supposedly.

But it never happened. I just felt stuck.

And I think I finally know why.

All this time, I’ve been struggling to form a consistent relationship with God based on the idea that He would make me what I was “supposed” to be, this nebulous idea of the perfect Christian (the one we all have in our minds – you know you do it, too!). And in a sense, that is one part of having a relationship with God – He does mold us and shape us and help us mature. He strengthens our strengths and helps us with our weaknesses.

BUT. Here’s what I was doing wrong.

I was thinking everything about me was wrong and needed to be fixed. I wanted to leave it all completely behind and be something else.

The revelation I’m sort of chewing on at the moment is this: What if those things I’ve been fighting so hard are an integral part of the way God wired me, and could enhance my connection with God if I would only just let go? What if I haven’t figured out who I am because I’ve never sought God as just me and let Him truly develop the personality and gifts He gave me?

Take, for example, the fact that I tend to be over-sensitive. My entire life I’ve been told I need to not be that way. “Toughen up,” “Get over it,” “Just move on,” “Grow a thicker skin,” etc. It never worked, though! Time and time again I’d try to “get over it” faster only to find myself feeling even worse days later, weeks later, months later. Why? Maybe because God designed me that way. Maybe because being so sensitive makes me more sensitive to God’s voice and to the feelings of others. Now, the downside to that is my feelings are easily hurt, but as I mature I’m learning how to handle it. When something happens that hurts my feelings, I try to take a little time to let those feelings process out and simmer down, and then I can think more logically about the situation, sort it out, and move on. I don’t just get over things instantaneously; it takes a little time for me to figure it out. And that’s not wrong – it’s part of how I’m wired. Part of how God wired me.

And I’m not a born housekeeper. I’m not. I’m not neat. I’m messy. Keeping the house clean and laundry caught up is hard for me. It does not come naturally, nor can I force it to. As time goes by, I’m slowly figuring out ways to keep my house more presentable. But it takes time. I have to figure out my own system – taking someone else’s system and plunking it down in my house has never stuck (except one time, with laundry, but then we moved to a house with a completely different floor plan and that shot the laundry system all to heck, but I’m trying). But I can figure it out. I just need a little time, a little space, and a little grace. I’ll get there. And historically, once I get there, I’m there for good.

There are a million other little details about myself I realized last night as we went through the chapter about the gifting I walk in at my mom’s Bible study. If I tried to list everything, this post would turn into a book. But I came away from the evening with a huge sense of relief – this is how God made me, and I’m free to be me. I can learn to do life as me. I can have a relationship with God as me, not striving to be something I’m not.

So. I’m going to go be me now.

My kitchen has been clean for almost a week.

A WEEK, people! This is unheard of in my world! Unless I’m having company over, my kitchen has always been in at least a slight state of disarray. And when I do have company, I bust my butt getting my kitchen sparkling and my dishes clean so I can serve my guests dinner. Because you need plates to serve dinner.

That was my routine last Sunday – we were having some special guests for dinner on Monday, and since Monday is a very busy day for me and Kiddo I did the housework on Sunday. So I started Monday with a clean kitchen and an empty dishwasher.

And I liked it.

How could I make this happen every day??? 

Hmmmm…

Well, I figured it out.

I had to stop running the dishwasher at night.

Our dishwasher is loud. And it’s a hot water hog. I don’t like running it during the day, so we’ve always waited to start it until we go to bed at night. So what was happening, was it would get over-full. There would be dirty dishes still on the counter that didn’t fit. And in the morning, the breakfast dishes would get added to that pile. So by the time I got to unloading the dishwasher, there was half a load of dirty dishes already and my work doubled.

But I figured out that if I run the dishwasher during the day, even if it’s not completely full, and have it emptied before dinnertime, life is so much easier. The dinner dishes get put straight into the dishwasher, as do the breakfast dishes the next morning. My counters stay clear of dishes, making a quick daily wipe-down easy, and my kitchen chores during the day take much less time.

And my bleary eyes are greeted by a clean kitchen as I stumble downstairs in the morning.

Ahhhhhh…

We’ve been talking about getting a new vacuum for a while, we just haven’t gotten around to it because vacuums cost, y’know, money. But we finally bit the bullet and got one, because our old one (a very generous hand-me-down wedding gift for which we will always be grateful!) has been on its last legs. We found a Eureka that seemed promising, and a little internet research later, Husband came strolling out of Wal-Mart with one as I sat in the car (it was right after my bout with flu so I was resting while he and Kiddo shopped) wide-eyed, mouth agape.

He likes to do that to me. Surprise me, that is. It’s one of his chief delights in life.

The first night we had the vacuum home, we turned into total giggling nerds playing with it. But then we had to stop because we had just put Kiddo to bed and didn’t want to wake him vacuuming the stairs with the fun attachments.

But I’m now addicted. To vacuuming.

There’s something slightly intoxicating about a carpeted room of fresh vacuum tracks. And I love the sound of dirt being sucked up. This afternoon I worked on the stairs while Kiddo napped – door closed, music on, humidifier running – getting deep down in the corners and crevices.

Nesting has taken hold, people. Beware!

Now if I could just get addicted to sweeping the kitchen floor we’d be good to go.

Mommy’s turn to visit the hospital, that is! All’s well now – it was just a quick trip, I didn’t have to be admitted. But it was quite the adventure.

We got a snow day from Jazzercise babysitting on Thursday, and the streets were so icy Husband didn’t make it to work – he walked back in the door a little before 8. I was feeling fine at that point, a little wonky but I thought it was just regular pregnancy ick and I’d feel better after my breakfast started to digest. Well, the snow day and Husband coming home ended up being a HUGE blessing in disguise because I suddenly got very, very sick. Some kind of stomach bug had crept into my body. I couldn’t keep anything down. Which is scary when you’re incubating a little human who needs nourishment!

I called the nurses’ line at my OB’s office a couple of times, tried taking some of the Zofran I had left over from my 1^st trimester, and sipped very slowly on Gatorade all day. Nothing helped. By early evening, when I still wasn’t keeping anything down, Husband convinced me to try half a dose of Phenegrin, also left over from the 1^st Trimester Blues. I don’t normally like taking Phenegrin, because it throws me for a huge loop, but I was desperate at this point. So I took the dose and crawled into bed, where I spent about the next four hours in la-la land, slowly sipping on my Gatorade.

I am so, so sick of the taste of Gatorade at this point.

Husband was getting pretty worried about dehydration, and my friend Kim who is kind of my medical sounding board was too. She was texting me like crazy, urging me to go to the hospital to get an IV. Husband called the front desk at the birth center in our hospital and described to the nurses what was going on – they told him to bring me in, because at that point I had been cramping for a while and that’s a sure sign of dehydration.

He called my mom, who we had contacted earlier in the day to see if she’d be available to come get Kiddo if we did end up making a hospital trip. She hopped in her car and started our way while Husband packed a bag for Kiddo (it was after his bedtime by then, so we decided to just have him spend the night at my mom’s house) and for us, in case we had to stay the night at the hospital.

To Kiddo, this was all just a big adventure! He was so excited when Grandma showed up, and when we told him he was going to spend the night at “Katie’s house”. Katie is my mom’s little shih-tzu/poodle dog, and she and Kiddo are just the very best of friends. Every dog in the world is “Kay-dee!” to Kiddo. We are all chopped liver compared to Katie.

I cried when my mom and Kiddo left. I admit it. I hadn’t touched my Kiddo all day, because I didn’t want him to get sick. He’s such an affectionate little guy – we normally cuddle and hug a fair amount. I missed him. I wanted nothing more than to snatch him up and smother his chubby cheeks with kisses. But I couldn’t.

We got to the hospital and went straight up to the birth center – that’s where they send you anyway if you’re past 20 weeks pregnant. And the funniest thing, my awesome nurse from when I delivered Kiddo was there! She got me set up in a triage room and hooked up to all the fetal monitors to make sure the baby was okay and I wasn’t having contractions – which the baby did NOT like! He’s not a fan of having his space invaded. Any pressure on my tummy results in some very assertive movement!

I had definitely underestimated how dehydrated I was. My mouth was dry and cottony-feeling. I felt like I did one night long ago during a “missions training” exercise, when I was so thirsty due to a salt-laden dinner that all I could think about was a tall glass of ice water. Long story. Don’t ask. My nurse brought me some apple juice to sip on, since that was the only thing that sounded even remotely palatable and I was desperate for moisture in my mouth.

They hooked me up to an IV with another dose of Phenegrin. It didn’t take long before the Phenegrin began to kick in and make me drowsy. I ended up sleeping for a good hour or two while Husband played games and watched Star Trek on his smart phone. They pumped 2 liters of fluid into me, then let us go home to sleep in our own bed. We left the hospital about half-past midnight, went home, and passed out into a blessed deep sleep.

I woke up feeling much better but still pretty tired the next day. Husband went and picked up Kiddo from my mom’s house (where he was nothing short of a complete and total angel!) and then worked from home again to keep an eye on me. I’m so grateful he has a job that allows him such flexibility. His company has really treated us well in the four years he’s worked there.

Today we were going to go to a fun couples’ event at church, but decided it would be best for me to go to bed early and sleep in today. I’m glad we did – I slept like a rock last night, for the first time in weeks! I’ve been waking up sometime during the second half of the night and having a hard time going back to sleep lately, which makes getting up early to go somewhere in the morning difficult. But last night, I slept the entire night without waking up until our little alarm clock (aka Kiddo) began making joyful noises from his crib. Oh blessed rest!

So, that was my adventure. I’m feeling great today, but I’m going to be careful not to over-do it. We might take Kiddo over to my in-laws’ house for a while this afternoon and let him play while we go do something. I’ve got cabin fever big time.

And we really need to get Kiddo a haircut. He’s beginning to look like we’re trying to grow him a mullet.

I have an addiction.

To tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.

Ever since I discovered spelt bread, I’ve been in sandwich heaven. Spelt is sort of a cousin of wheat – tastes very similar, behaves very similar. It does contain gluten, but is often tolerated by people who are gluten intolerant. I’m not technically gluten intolerant, but spelt does not aggravate my acne like wheat does, so I eat it like crazy to satisfy my carb cravings. I buy spelt bread, spelt English muffins, spelt pasta, and I keep spelt flour (whole grain and white) in my freezer for making pizza crusts and thickening soups and stews. Husband even found me spelt cereal! The heavens opened up and sang in the natural grocery store. No, wait, that was me singing. And dancing. And hugging the cereal box. Yep, it’s true.

Spelt works extremely well as a thickening agent, as mentioned above. Recently I gave it a whirl in tomato soup. I now shall make tomato soup every week, so I can have it with grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch as long as the leftovers last!

Tomato soup is impossibly easy to whip up. And homemade kicks canned soup’s butt any day of the week. This recipe comes from The Ultimate Southern Living Cookbook, with a few minor modifications. I also double the original recipe. Because leftovers are my friend.

You will need:

3 Tablespoons olive oil

3 Tablespoons butter

*I do the half oil/half butter thing by choice – the original recipe calls for only butter. So if you’re brave enough for 6 Tablespoons of butter, go for it. I won’t judge you. I tried it with just olive oil once, and the soup seemed to be missing some richness. So I don’t recommend that.

1 small to medium onion, chopped

6 Tablespoons flour (this is where I use spelt, but regular flour is just fine)

2 cups chicken broth

Two 28 oz. cans diced tomatoes

1 can tomato paste

2 Tablespoons sugar

2 Tablespoons chopped fresh parsley (or half that amount dried)

2 teaspoons salt

1 teaspoon dried basil

½ teaspoon pepper

2 bay leaves

Heat the butter and olive oil together in a heavy pot over medium heat.

Add the onion and cook until softened, just a couple minutes.

Sprinkle in the flour and cook for about a minute, stirring constantly.

Add the chicken broth and cook, stirring constantly, until mixture is thickened and bubbly.

Add the tomatoes, tomato paste, and all the seasonings.

Bring to a boil, reduce heat, cover, and simmer for at least 30 minutes.

You do have to stir it regularly – it likes to stick to the bottom of the pot, so give it a really good scraping. Rubber spatulas work well for this.

When it’s simmered long enough – this is important now! – fish out the bay leaves and discard them.

Now, there are two ways you could do this next step. You could either ladle the soup into a regular blender in batches, or…

You could get one of these little babies. I got this one for Christmas from my in-laws. I love it. We had a crappy plastic one before that made me angry whenever I used it. But this little stainless steel wonder makes me happy. Very, very happy.

Wait, where was I? Oh yeah.

Blend the soup. I wish I had a picture of the actual blending, because it looks really cool, but it takes two hands for me, and Husband was taking care of Kiddo and I didn’t want to call him into the kitchen to take pictures of me blending soup.

Serve to your happy family with grilled cheese sandwiches. Store the rest in the refrigerator for as long as you can. It never lasts long at my house. Because I eat it. Every day. Until it’s gone.

Speaking of grilled cheese sandwiches, my husband says I make the best in the world. Should I do a grilled cheese sandwich tutorial sometime? Okay, you don’t have to beg. I’ll do it.

The first time I heard this song on the radio it captured me. It took a long time for me to track it down, since it always came in a lineup of songs where they didn’t announce the name of the artist. And do you know how many songs there are out there with the title “Hallelujah”? A LOT.

When I heard the story behind the song, I finally understood why I was so captured by it. This is not just a song of worship – it is the gut-wrenching heart-cry of a person who has been through an unimaginable loss and has yet still chosen to cry out to God. “Meet me here, where I’m at, in all my mess. Because no matter what, I’m still going to sing Hallelujah.”

I just wanted to share it with ya’ll tonight.

Didn’t I say I would give you some bump pictures? 28 weeks!

…back in December! And I have been a slacker and have not shared the adorableness of my son enjoying the fishes.

Daddy took the week between Christmas and New Year’s off, and we decided to drive up to Denver to take Kiddo to the aquarium. He loves animals, and is about at the age where he’d really love the zoo. However, it was December. Hence, it was cold. And the zoo is, y’know, outdoors. And we wanted to do something extra fun with Kiddo while Daddy was on vacation!

I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves.

This was before the bad haircut. I could still pull it back on bad hair days!

You should have seen him jump when he saw that huge stingray swimming up in front of him!

He kept saying "Whoa!" at everything.

"Let's go!"

"That was fun, Mom and Dad! Let's do it again!"

You can’t see much of my baby bump in that last pic, but I promise it’s there! I’ve been growing a lot the past several weeks. I do owe you some bump pictures, don’t I? We’ll do a big fancy bump photoshoot sometime in the next several weeks and I’ll post those, when I’m all posed and Photoshopped.

Anyway, we had such a good time at the aquarium! It’s not very big – it took us about an hour and a half or so to get through it at Kiddo’s pace, which was just about right for us. Afterward we went to lunch at Chick fil A, and then were home in time for an afternoon nap!

We’re planning on going one more time before the baby is born, just to have a special time for Kiddo before his little world is turned upside down by his baby brother!

Oh, did I mention we’re having another boy? I don’t remember. So I’ll do it now. We’re having another boy!