Butternut Squash Soup

I have two modes: "if you leave a crumb on this counter I will cut you," or "I wonder if my purse is under the laundry on top of the island."

No in-between.

When I cook or bake, I'm in cutting mode. The entire kitchen needs to look like the set of the Martha Stewart cooking show. So, while you guys get the splendor of my clean kitchen, pray for my family - they were likely yelled at in the making of this soup.

I am a basic white girl through and through. The second one leaf begins to look like a pale green, I have strapped on my Hunters and a plaid scarf. I'm also ready for soups and chilis and baking. Being that it's Halloween, I wanted to be sure and get something fall-y in on this fall day.

Not only is this a beautiful soup, it's delicious and the family loved it.

I allowed them back into the kitchen once I had finished making the soup and kitchen look perfect.

  • 1 1/2 cups chopped yellow onion
  • 1 Tbsp olive oil
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced (about 2 tsp)
  • 2 tsp minced, peeled fresh ginger
  • Small pinch of cinnamon
  • splash of Apple cider vinegar
  • 1 tsp salt
  • 4 cups low sodium chicken stock
  • 2 large butternut squash
  • 1/2 cup of pumpkin puree
  • 2 Tbsp butter
  • 3 Tbsp heavy whipping cream
  • dash of black pepper black pepper
  • dash of brown sugar
  • Toasted pumpkin seeds

1. Heat olive oil in pan. Add chopped onions and saute until translucent.

2. Add squash, broth, and spices.

3. Bring to a boil, reduce to simmer for 10-15 minutes or until squash is soft. Remove from heat and add pumpkin puree, butter, and brown sugar. Puree with a hand (stick) blender or in batches in a normal blender. Blend until very smooth.

4. Test soup. Add more whipping cream for a richer soup. 

5. Serve hot and top with toasted pumpkin seeds.

Baseball Baby Shower

I'm not a half-ass-baby-shower-thrower. If we're throwing a shower, I WILL spend excessive amounts of money on things that will make the day JUST SO. Plus, when it's your only sister's first baby, you have to go big or go home. So, I went big, and I just so love how it turned out. 

Want details? Keep reading.

This cute concessions sign was handmade by Magnolia Tree Designs. Fit easily in my suitcase without getting crumpled like a lot of other stuff.

Now, this. This you cannot buy in stores. This was handmade by Baby G's Papa just for this table. With 24 hours notice, sweet Dave sprang into action and created the most perfect baseball bat Cracker Jack stand. And it was my absolute favorite part of the entire table.

Modge Podged letters. Meh.

The Daddy-to-be keeping his distance from 40+ women.

Sissy & my girl.

Danny had seen this really fun idea - have the guests write love notes to Baby G on a baseball bat to keep forever and ever.

The sign. My nemesis. Forgot the letters at home. Called my niece at 10pm the night before, begging for help. She showed up with goodies and letters, and basically, saved the party.

And the pinwheels. Gah. Love them. You can snag them at The Parties That Pop!

A hot dog rotisserie. I know. #gobigorgohome

The detail on everything blew us away. I mean, this is just the coolest cake. And tasty. Holy crap. There wasn't a single piece left by the time the shower was over.

Handmade sugar cookies and cake pops from my darling niece, Megan. She is my go-to baker...oh, Megs! I need to pay you! Crap! Text me!

This day wouldn't have come together if not for the grandmas-to-be. Mom and Penny, thank you for letting me squawk orders at you when I needed things to be a certain way. 

Why I Don't Care Who You're Voting For

Guess what? I don't give a flying unicorns left testicle who you are voting for. I mean, I will judge you privately, but that's just life.

Why? Why don't I care? Because, ultimately, your greatest accomplishment in life is raising your spawns to be decent human beings. Your kids are the ones in school with my kids. I work hard everyday to be sure that I am not raising children who will become asshole adults. I feel that it is only fair that you do the same, mmmmkay?

When Maddie comes home from school and says she complimented a little girl's polo shirt and the girl tells her to shut up, I feel two things: angry at your kid and angry at you. Yeah, it's a polo shirt, so really, it's about as attractive as a muumuu, but whatever. She's being sweet, and your kid was being a jerk.

Image result for bratty kids

I will concede that, at the ripe ol' age of 6, PMS has begun to seep out of their pores. I feel it. I see it. It's internal and cannot be controlled. It's why adults eat chocolate, watch A Walk to Remember on repeat, and guzzle a box of wine when our hormones turn on us. This is also why I fear Hillary being voted in - the PMS could rage and someone could get wiped off the planet just for the hell of it.

I digress.

Vote for whoever you'd like, but please, for the love of all that is holy, raise your tiny humans to be contributing members of society who play nice with others. Children are the future - let's not turn them into future assholes.

This Week in Photos

One of the only times they weren't screaming or pouring water on each other's heads just to be jerks. 

If you aren't drinking pink champs nightly, you're doing it wrong. 

New hair. Still getting used to it. Yikes. 

Girl's trip with my girl who hates pictures like I stick  a camera in her face all the time or something.  I birthed you. You'll pose for a damn picture. 

I Peed Myself Today

It's true. I knew better than to wait. I tell my daughter to give me more warning than seconds before she's about piss herself. Do I listen to my own advice? Of course not. The definition of parenting is to do as I say not as I do.

Image result for mommy peeing funny

I had 984797 errands to run today. I was cranky, I wanted to be home in my yoga pants and no bra, and I didn't have time to pee. I had to find a dress for my daughter, I needed toilet paper, and I was needing a fresh supply of pink champagne. I didn't have time for perfunctory bathroom breaks.

I briskly strode into Old Navy, huffed around the displays and found nothing. It was then that I made the mistake of coughing. If you have had any children, you know the strain those fetuses put on your body. Your uterus capacity is stretched to ungodly limits, and the bladder is permanently lax. If you have the audacity to cough, laugh, sneeze, run, or even breathe, you are asking for it.

Keep in mind, I had twins. The amount of stretch inside (and outside) was straight out of Alien. Whatever used to keep the pee in when I was in a store has since disappeared.

So, I sit here, pink champagne in hand at 4:30 in the afternoon, googling thong or boy shorts versions of Depends.

Toast to motherhood and pissing ourselves.

Day in the Life of a Busy Working Mom

Weekends are when I pull double duty all day. Josh is at church, so kid & work & house & cleaning & shopping fall to me. 

Saturday usually consists of pancakes...by McDonald's. This means, I grab one of my plaids, toss it over a bra-less tank, and throw my grease ball hair up in a mom bun. We play hard until noon, and we crash. Peppered in that morning is me working between breaking up fights, switching over the laundry, finding Maddie's 89753th snack, and finding whatever toy is currently lost.

Do you own your own business? Cool. Me too. So, you know that owning your own business means you don't take weekends. You work when you need to work, answering emails, fielding questions, creating graphics, talking to team members who are planning, creating, and hosting. Weekends are not a thing for me.

Nap time. If you move a muscle or breathe the wrong way, you're screwed. The goal of my afternoon is to remain motionless in hopes that they will all stay asleep for as long as humanly possible. Work? Sometimes. This may be my only opportunity to bathe. I don't take it. I catch up on the shows I didn't watch during the week, and feel instant guilt that I wasn't folding laundry or preparing an afternoon of Pinterest activities for the kids.

Oh, well. I lived. They'll live.

This basket of dirty laundry has been in this same position for 4 days. The suitcase has been there since I got back from Utah 15 days ago.

Waking up sucks. We don't move for a while after waking up. Life can be rough as a two-year-old.

If I have made it to bath time and the house is still standing, I count this a win. Emotions are fried and we have nothing left within us to keep our eyes from closing. We give in to the peace of a bath, followed by some milk & a cartoon. 

Daddy is home. The world is set right. We shuffle kids to beds, and enjoy the quiet before we drift off.

Drift off...repeat...
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