Mac attack

December Death Storm is apparently headed our way tomorrow, so I recommend we all start eating heavily. Nothing says "snowed in" quite like a hot, hearty, and not-too-healthy meal; when it comes to comfort food, I happen to love my recipe for macaroni and cheese. It's decadent and delicious. Because if you're going to eat macaroni and cheese for dinner, you might as well go all out. And when I say "all out," I'm talking bacon here.

MAC AND CHEESE WITH PANCETTA

5 T. butter, divided
4 oz. thinly sliced good pancetta (I like Iowa's own La Quercia), torn/chopped
1/2 a yellow onion, finely chopped
1 garlic clove, minced
1/2 tsp. crushed red pepper flakes
1/4 c. all-purpose flour
3 1/2 c. whole milk
1 1/2 c. shredded cheddar cheese
1 c. grated parmesan/romano cheese
1 c. Velveeta
8 oz. marscapone
1 c. Italian bread crumbs
1/4 c. chopped Italian flat leaf parsley
1 lb. elbow macaroni

Melt 1/2 T. butter in a medium skillet over mid-high heat. Add pancetta and saute about 6 mins. Add onion, followed by crushed red pepper and garlic. Stir constantly, cooking until onions begin to brown. Add 2 1/2 T. butter, allow it to melt, and then stir in flour. Whisk in milk and simmer.

Pour pan contents into bowl and whisk in cheeses. Return pan to heat and melt 2 T. butter, scraping the bottom of the pan as the butter melts. Add bread crumbs and cook until dark but not burnt. Turn off heat and add parsley, stirring frequently to create topping.

Preheat oven to 350 and butter a 13x9 baking dish. Cook pasta and drain well. Mix cooked pasta and cheese sauce in the baking dish, stirring to coat pasta completely with sauce. Sprinkle crumb/parsley mixture on top and bake 30 minutes. Garnish with fresh parsley and serve.

Smoky, cheesy, and yum. Enjoy!

The Finial Countdown

I'm surveying the renovated walk-in closet in a for-sale Des Moines home when I hear my 15-month-old son making ape noises in the next room. I glance around the corner to discover him circling a four-poster bed, his arms stretched above his head as he exclaims, "Ooh, ooh, oooooh! Pretty! Pretty! Oooooh!"

"Oh," my husband says to the realtor in a sheepish tone, rumpling his face as he quickly assesses the situation. "He really likes finials."

Yes, finials. The decorative ornaments found on the ends of flagpoles, bedposts, grandfather clocks, and curtain rods. He freaking loves them.

There was never much question that my husband's and my offspring would end up being a little...well, different. But even I have to admit: This finial thing can be a little hard to explain. I believe the obsession started at my parents' house, where CJ fell in love with the grandfather clock much as he had done at our house. For whatever reason, my mom once removed the finials from the clock and handed them to him as part of the process of "visiting" the item. Being a toddler who loves routine and being perhaps also slightly weird, CJ insisted on examining and replacing the finials each time thereafter. From there, he began holding finials while having his diaper changed on my parents' four-poster bed, inspiring the sentence my mom says proves the English language contains infinite combinations of words:

"Don't get finials in the poop."
-- My dad

My son manhandling yet
another innocent finial.

My son also likes to peer-pressure other children into liking finials. When we took him to the Festival of Trees and Lights after Thanksgiving, he loved the lighted trees as we expected. But what we didn't anticipate, of course, was that the sitting area at the festival was decorated with white planter boxes that each had FOUR finials. Low-to-the-ground finials, even, which required no adult assistance. CJ walked from finial to finial for at least a half an hour, and before we left he had recruited a 12-month-old little girl to help him touch them.

We've also found that finials are a gateway to fenceposts and lampshade ornaments. If it's ornamental and we walk past it, CJ lunges. There's really no way to tell how this will end.

He's either destined for a career in architecture or souvenir spoonsmithing or it's just a phase and we'd might as well just let him get his fix of finials.

Just don't get them in the poop.

Time to trim

This weekend I have been slowly but surely hauling out the Christmas decorations. And I have to be honest: I'm not planning to get them all out this year. Between some of the non-holiday-decoration-friendly interior design choices I've made in our house, the smallness of our house, and all the other stuff going on in our lives right now, simplicity seemed the right option yet again this year. I do have dreams of someday owning a bigger house and spiffing it all up for the holidays. Just as soon as I get all that extra time and money I've been needing...

But here are some of my favorites that I just had to drag out of their basement hiding spots. Because, you know, Merry Christmas.

1. Fun artificial wreath purchased a few years ago from Nell Hill's
2. Stockings hung by the chimney with care -- mine, which was made by my late Great Aunt Norma when I was a child; CJ's, which I purchased from Pottery Barn Kids but embroidered myself (I was looking for the homemade look and achieved it quite nicely due to my lack of skill); and Ben's, which is neither old nor handmade and needs a little TLC.
3. Santa Claus, which was painted by my late grandfather and is breakable and therefore needs to be kept out of CJ's reach forever and ever.
4. A very old snow glow candle, which was also made by my late grandpa and therefore I will likely never burn. (They look so pretty when they're burning, though...)
5. Flameless candles decorated with holiday scenes, purchased on clearance from Pottery Barn Kids last year (I also have Halloween ones. For some reason, I can't resist these.)
6. One of my many Yankee candles. (Always love when they send their seasonal coupons.) Yankee makes some awesome holiday scents, especially Christmas Tree and Christmas Wreath. Anything that smells like fresh holiday greenery, including actual fresh holiday greenery, is a-okay in my book.
7. Waechstersbach snowman mugs -- a gift from my mother-in-law after we first got married
8. A decorative bowl with a surprise inside -- a recent gift from my mom, who remembers how much I loved my childhood mug with a little bear at the bottom.

Fundraising strategies I clearly do not understand.

Charities love me. There are two main reasons for this: 1) I am generous by nature; and 2) unlike 90% of people in my generation, I still have a home phone number and even frequently answer it during the day. (The odd combination of my techy profession/interests with my aversion to most things techy being the subject of another post for another day.) So for these reasons and some others, my husband (also generous and a guilt-by-association home phone answerer) and I are pretty charitable folks.

But lately I've noticed two trends that are sort of crushing my charitable spirit, or at least making me tired.

The first one is the mysterious "annual fund drive" that happens at LEAST twice a year. Much like the Victoria's Secret "semi-annual sale," which as far as I can tell is an omnipresent vat of padded E-cup bras and ill-fitting underpants in strange patterns that you're welcome to fish through at any time, the purported frequency of this event does not reflect reality. In fact, I recently had one charity contact me less than a month after a donation to thank me for my gift "last year" and see if I'd be willing to contribute again this year. I am definitely stupid, but not that stupid. And hey, I get it: After an organization figures out you're willing to give, you're just going to get more and more requests because you're where their money comes from. But I'm not a big fan of lying, so please stop doing this because lying indeed is what it is.

The second one that's wearing me out is the "send five letters to your neighbors three months from now" request. Of course I am willing to do this, but is it really the most efficient way to raise funds? Couldn't I just send you a donation equivalent to the cost of five stamps? (Whatever a stamp costs now; I've honestly lost track. Fifty cents? I know they were 22 cents throughout most of my childhood. Kids today probably have no idea what stamps are.) Because by the time you call me, call me three more times to thank me and see if I have "any questions" about the mailing, ship me a giant packet of stuff, and follow up eleventy nine times to see if I have collected any money yet, you probably could have mailed those letters (and more) yourself. Honestly, I'd love to hear from someone who works in fundraising who can explain this technique to me, because I'm not seeing the value. And yes, I am mailing letters for three different groups again this year. And no, I don't expect to get a good response from my neighbors this time, either. And yes, I realize it is me and little old ladies who do this and maybe I should disconnect our home phone and why don't I just get an iPhone already.

Just call me Ethel. And please give generously to your favorite causes this holiday season! Because even if it is sometimes annoying, that is what this season is all about.

All aglow

I've long had a love/hate relationship with Christmas lights. On one hand, I love them. On the other hand, I hate that my husband feels the need to impersonate Clark Griswold just about every holiday season and almost kill himself climbing our house to decorate it.

Our son loves Christmas lights, too, and he also started crying every time his father started up the ladder today -- so apparently he shares my feelings about the situation. Nonetheless, since two of CJ's words are "pretty" and "lights," we know trees and exterior illumination will be a highlight of his holiday.

On Saturday, Mom, Dad, Grandpa, and Grandma took CJ to Blank Children's Hospital's Festival of Trees and Lights. And yes, he loved it. Gentle touches.

 CJ's favorite tree (Sesame Street) and my favorite tree (peacock)

On Sunday it was once again time for Ben to go crazy with some "pretty lights" at our house, and even though I was angry as usual at his making the climb, I have to admit it looks pretty good.

And of course we're capping the evening in traditional style -- with a viewing of National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. Tis the season to be merry!

With thanks.

 

Children make the holidays more fun -- even when they refuse to wake up from their naps to celebrate or throw half their Thanksgiving dinner on the floor. Even last Thanksgiving, when CJ was not quite three months old and I didn't even really get a chance to eat my turkey, having a child brought new meaning to the concept of gratitude.

So I just wanted to take a moment to share my thanks for a loving family -- especially the baby boy who has brought so much joy to my life. It's so fun to see the holidays through his eyes and share his excitement about discovering such treasures as silly "Turkey Notes," twinkling Christmas lights, and mini pumpkins that stack oh-so-nicely upon one's head.

And if he were somehow able to express it using a combination of "pretty," "bye-bye," "light," "Ernie," "catch," "another," and barking like a puppy, I am sure CJ would say how thankful he is to have two parents, both sets of grandparents, two sets of great-grandparents, and his only aunt and uncle living close by and spending so much time with him. He is truly an unusually fortunate child. (And we're truly fortunate parents to have so many babysitting options!) What a wonderful holiday season it will be for all of us. 

Even if CJ's teething and we have to go to the Meineke Car Care Bowl and we all have strep throat. Just clarifying that my life is not a Norman Rockwell painting is all.

Now to dust off some Bing Crosby and feign Rockwell painting-ness. Happy Holidays!

Cranberry & Red Pepper Jelly

Every year, I look forward to the November issue of Bon Appetit magazine and all the awesome Thanksgiving recipe ideas it includes. But since I'm not the main Turkey Day chef, there's only so much I can experiment with. Last year I found myself drawn to the recipe for cranberry & red pepper jelly -- which was advertised as being the perfect topping for leftover turkey sandwiches. I tried it, and it's delicious. So this year I have whipped up another batch in anticipation of leftovers.

CRANBERRY & RED PEPPER JELLY

3 red bell peppers, chopped
2 red chiles, seeded and chopped
1 1/2 tsp. crushed red pepper flakes
1 c. sugar
1/2 tsp. kosher salt
1 T. fresh lemon juice
1/4 c. liquid pectin
3 c. cranberries

Wash, sterilize, and prepare jars.

Combine peppers, chiles, sugar, flakes, and salt in a heavy pot over medium heat. Bring to simmer, stirring to dissolve sugar. Stir in pectin and lemon juice. Reduce heat and simmer gently 10 minutes.

Stir in cranberries and simmer gently until they burst, about 10 minutes. Transfer hot jelly to hot jar, let cool, and cover. This jelly will keep up to three weeks in the refrigerator.

To a Tea

I'm certainly not the girliest girl by any stretch of the imagination, but I do love a good tea room. Especially during the holidays, some of my fondest memories are gathering with friends for lunching and shopping at places like Perry's Thymes Remembered Tea Room or Ivy's Tea Room/Shoppes on Grand in Ames -- both of which, sadly, are now closed. I found myself thinking about these places when I was invited to a potluck luncheon this week, so I decided to dust off THE Ivy's Tea Room chicken salad recipe and bring that as my contribution. The key ingredients are specialty items -- Cherchies champagne mustard and Lem'n Dill seasoning. And since Ivy's is now closed, I'm sure they don't mind me sharing their famous chicken salad recipe here.

IVY'S FAMOUS CHICKEN SALAD

4 c. cooked and chopped chicken
1 c. chopped celery
1/2 c. sweet pickle relish
2 T. Cherchies Lem'n Dill Seasoning
1 c. Miracle Whip
1/3 c. Cherchies champagne mustard
 Black pepper

Combine all ingredients and serve on crackers, lettuce leaves, or tea rolls.

Top, if desired, with vidalia onion salad dressing.

Perchance to dream.

When I was six months pregnant with my now-14-month-old son, my friend the child psychologist gave me the book Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child by Dr. Marc Weissbluth and told me I should absolutely read it. At the time, the gift caught me off guard: Babies sleep; that's what they do, I thought. What could be so hard about that? Do we really need a book about this? Of all the things I had thought about having a baby or worried about in becoming a parent, the baby's sleep habits certainly wasn't one of them.

By the time  my son was about four months old, I realized it: When you have an infant, worrying about your baby's sleep habits is pretty much all you do. Your inner monologue is constantly something along the lines of "He's sleeping late this morning -- I'm glad to sleep in, too, but if he doesn't wake up soon he won't take his morning nap. And if he doesn't take his morning nap, he'll fall asleep in the car on the way to the store, and then if he sleeps too long in the car, he won't take his afternoon nap until late and then he'll end up falling asleep early tonight and then he might be up at the crack of dawn tomorrow and oh, there he is now -- guess I'd better get up." For a while there, creating a sleep schedule for your child, adapting it as he grows, and keeping him well rested can feel like a full-time job all of its own. But it is definitely worth it and I definitely recommend the book as a source of information and inspiration.

Now, some of the advice in Weissbluth's book is just plain silly: If your child cries in the night, don't go to him unless he's hot, cold, or sick. (How exactly a parent knows if her child is hot, cold, or sick without going to him is a mystery to me.) But the book's sometimes hardline admonitions to let your child learn to fall asleep on his own are just what a lot of new parents need to hear in this modern age of having never-let-your-child-cry-under-any-circumstances-or-you'll-probably-cause-permanent-damage attachment parenting philosophy. But even more important than the book's warning that you may have to let children "cry it out" is its message that most children, especially ones with behavioral problems, AREN'T GETTING ENOUGH SLEEP.

From the day he was born, my son has apparently had a talent for sleeping long stretches. For the first two months, he pretty much slept all the time -- day and night -- except to eat. He took a predictable four-hour afternoon nap for many months and developed blissful six-hour night stretches early on. By the time he was four months, he slept about nine hours straight at night. It was great, but none of this was due to anything I did -- I was just lucky. I had given birth to a world champion sleeper -- an easy baby, as the book calls him.

Around six months, my son was ready to do what Weissbluth would describe as actually sleeping through the night -- 11 1/2 to 12 1/2 hours, 7-ish p.m. to 7-ish a.m. I would always make sure to get him home before his bedtime and check for cues that he might like to go to sleep even earlier -- often 6:30 p.m. I would rock him and put him down awake but drowsy as the book described and, if necessary, let him fuss a bit (usually less than 90 seconds, sometimes five minutes) after I put him down. By about 12 months, the bedtime routine and rocking pretty much became obsolete. My son knew when he was ready for bed. He no longer cried when I put him down to sleep; in fact, he started sometimes crying until I put him down to sleep. We had a week of regression around 13 months in which I had to let him fuss a few minutes after putting him down again, but he quickly went back to his normal, crib-loving self. And I'm sure we'll go through a regression again, but I have learned that consistency pays off and that I need to respect my child's space and create an environment in which he is free to learn things on his own.

Here's the thing: Naps are important, but they're also wildly unpredictable. Sometimes they go well, sometimes they don't. Sometimes they're taken at home, sometimes elsewhere. Sometimes falling asleep in the car on the way home from an innocent trip to the grocery store can ruin the whole day. Sometimes, 45 minutes into your exhausted son's nap, your husband will use the home phone to call his cell phone in an attempt to locate it and discover it is set on outdoor volume and is one wall away from your child's nursery and wakes up your son, who won't go back to sleep and ends up falling asleep before dinner and you want to pinch your husband's head off and kick it down the street. (Hypothetically, of course.) So bedtime is easier to control than naptime, and we try to control it.

I'm pretty sure most others see me as a ridiculous, dogmatic, horribly inflexible person who won't keep her child up late even just this one time. To be honest, I certainly wish I could make the occasional exception -- but my little guy would not have any part of that. By 7:45 p.m., he'd be A) screaming, or B) asleep. Last Friday night, I went to an evening college basketball game and couldn't believe how many babies and young children were there. I was jealous. But then I wondered, "How much sleep are these kids getting at night? If they stay up until 10 p.m., are they sleeping until 10 a.m.? Surely not."

I constantly get strange looks when I go somewhere in the evening and answer that C.J. is at home asleep. Sure, I'd love to show him off to others and spend more time with him at night, but the most important thing is to do what's right for him: Let him get his sleep.

It's not the answer most people want, but it's the best advice I have: Put your kid to bed earlier. Oh, and read Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child. But mostly just put your kid to bed earlier.

In the end, it can be hard -- especially for parents who work. But it's best for everyone. Get a Netflix subscription or reorganize your cupboards or pretend you're eighty and watch Wheel of Fortune and go to bed early like I do. Cuz you may be hanging out at home for a little while.

Try to enjoy the silence.

Sausage & Red Pepper Strata

 

I have mixed feelings about 11 a.m. football kickoffs. I love them for road games -- for obvious reasons. For home games, they're a little early for me to be up and at 'em preparing tailgate food and packing the car -- but I absolutely love a good breakfast tailgate. Breakfast tailgate may be my favorite meal ever. This morning we feasted on such treats as cinnamon roll cake, hot cider, baked egg cups, coffee cake, mixed berries, and one of my all-time favorite breakfast dishes: sausage & red pepper strata.

I recently bought a new recipe book, because I think one periodically needs to do such things to stay organized and to remember what's good to cook. I'm using it as a chance to be VERY discriminating about what gets included: I'm only keeping recipes I absolutely love. And the way it is organized -- into breakfast, lunch, and dinner , which at first I wasn't sure about -- has been a helpful way for me to think about meal preparation. Now if I can just figure out what to do with all my dessert recipes.

The sausage & red pepper strata was the first recipe I entered into the breakfast section, because I have to say it is simply perfect and needs no tweaking. If you are a vegetarian, though, I wouldn't hesitate to swap out the sausage for some sliced, sauteed mushrooms. In fact, I've been wanting to try such a version myself. But this morning's crowd was meat-friendly, so here's how I made it:

SAUSAGE & RED PEPPER STRATA

6 large eggs
2 1/2 c. whole milk
1/2 c. whipping cream
1/2 c. grated romano
2 T. oregano
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 c. sliced green onions
1 lb. Italian sausage (I just use the Johnsonville mild or sweet)
1 large red bell pepper, chopped
1 lb. loaf French or Italian bread (If you're in the Des Moines area, I highly recommend using South Union Italian baguette)
1 c. loosely packed feta cheese

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter a 13x9x2 baking dish and set aside. Whisk eggs, milk, cream, romano, oregano, salt, and green onions in a large bowl and set aside.

Place sausage and chopped red pepper on opposite sides of a skillet and saute over high heat until sausage is cooked through. 

Arrange half the bread slices in the prepared dish. Pour half the egg mixture and half the sausage and red pepper over; sprinkle with feta. Repeat process with a second layer.

Let stand at least 20 minutes, pressing down on top to submerge bread. (I often make this dish the night before and let it spend the night in the fridge before baking in the morning -- it works just great.)

Bake until puffed and brown, appx. 1 hour.

Our reviews of the game were not very positive (the good guys lost to No. 12 Oklahoma, 35-20), but the reviews of the tailgate were. It was a nice November morning to spend in the parking lot eating and drinking with wonderful people like my friend, Sarah.

Cheers to tailgating!

Halloween 2012

 

All decorations shown are from my mom's house. I don't even try to compete with her. Thanks, Grandma, for making Halloween so fun for CJ!

Hope everyone enjoyed. Now on to eating season -- starting with leftover Halloween candy.

Pretty cool.

Our son, C.J., has been saying words for a while now.  A few months ago "mama" was a favorite, particularly when he was in distress. We don't hear it much anymore. "Da da da da da" has been a familiar chorus for quite some time, too, though it may be more of a sound preference than a declaration of affection for his father. There have been isolated incidents in which he's definitely very clearly said such words as "more," "light," "uh-oh," and allegedly even "C.J." (though I did not witness that last one). Apparently it's not uncommon for infants to repeat or blurt a word once and then bottle it up; this definitely seems to be our little guy's M.O. But, as of this weekend, there's one word that's stuck and it melts my heart.

Pretty.

He may have been saying it for a few days and I just didn't pick it up, but my mother figured it out on Saturday when we were out exploring our yard, its trees, bunnies, and flowers: My son enjoys pointing at things and calling them pretty. Although it's probably not technically his first word (I now know why so many parents find 'what was your child's first word?' such a difficult question to answer.), it's the first word he's really assertively using on his own and I think it's incredibly sweet.

He's used "pretty" to describe trees, flowers, autumn leaves, a glowing Halloween ghost decoration, a stained glass votive holder, a piece of artwork that hangs in our kitchen, the chimes of our grandfather clock, his stuffed Sesame Street toys, his sippy cup, and his grandfather's hat hair (okay, so maybe he doesn't really understand what he's saying).

But I think it's a pretty awesome first word for a pretty sweet guy.

Good stuff

We just made it through a week and a half that included serious work challenges, food poisoning, a depressing Cyclone offensive line performance, and news of more ear surgery for our little one. And now it's dreary and cold outside and I think it's high time we focus on some good stuff.

So. Good stuff:

1. Our little man is 13 months old today and he has been walking for about a week. So YES, everyone who asks as soon as he hears my son is over 1: HE IS WALKING! He sort of walks like a zombie with his arms extended out straight in front of him, but it is blissful, adorable, wonderful, extremely dangerous WALKING.

2. Sometimes it smacks me over the head how much a little music can improve my mood -- usually when I've gone too long without listening. My current mood-boosting tune of choice is Tavish Graham's "In My Soul" from the Rachel Getting Married soundtrack. (I know -- an uplifting song from a depressing movie!) It should also be noted that my favorite band of all time ever forever ever ever released its new album this week. So there's that.

3. On Sunday I am having breakfast with one of my favorite people in the world -- my high school chum and maid of honor, who annoyingly lives in Arizona and only visits about once a year and will never move back now because she will freeze to death on contact. (This is what happens to Midwesterners who move to Arizona, you know.) But yay! She's coming this weekend with her two daughters and there will be cute overload and hopefully pancakes.

4. I made a recipe I pinned to Pinterest and it was actually good. Thanks, Sally's Baking Addiction.

Happy weekend, sports fans.

Super Buttery Yellow Cake

I love yellow cake. It's always been my favorite. But I'd never really known a good way to make it myself until I came across a recipe from Yum Sugar that includes a little pinch of butter flavoring and whole lot of, oh yeah, actual butter. Being me, I decided to turn the recipe into cupcakes. I think the thing that makes yellow cake great is when it's really buttery and moist, so wrapping these in plastic about 10 minutes after pulling them from the oven seemed to really help in that area.

Here's the recipe. And yes, that's a lot of butter.

YELLOW CAKE

2 sticks butter, room temperature
2 c. sugar
4 eggs, room temperature
3 c. self-rising flour, sifted
1 c. whole milk, room temperature
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1/2 tsp. butter flavoring

Preheat oven to 350. Line cupcake tins. Using a mixer, cream butter until fluffy. Add sugar and continue to cream for about 7 minutes. Add eggs one at a time. Beat well after each egg is added. Alternate adding flour and milk to creamed mixture, beginning and ending with flour. Add vanilla and butter flavoring to mix until just mixed. Fill each cupcake liner about halfway full with batter.

Bake 15 minutes or until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Cool in pans 5-10 minutes, then remove, place on cooling rack, and wrap in plastic to seal in moisture.

After cooling completely, frost with your favorite icing. I beat together 2 sticks of butter, 1 lb. powdered sugar, 1 tsp. vanilla extract, and 2 tsp. whole milk.

The Diary Diaries, Part 2.

A few years after bringing you the exciting highlights of my eighth grade diary, I am excited today to present the highlights from my fourth through sixth grade diary because I was finally able to pick the ultra-secure Lisa Frank tiny padlock. Charlize Theron in The Italian Job I am not. But, at least for me, it was worth the wait. What you are about to read are the musings of a woman on the edge -- the edge of going to middle school. I laughed. I cried. I walked and bought Wacky Wafers. Enjoy.

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September 11, 1987: "Today was a boring day. The only thing I did was take a walk and buy Wacky Wafers." 

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December 30, 1987: "Christmas has passed and we got a computer! I also got FOUR sets of markers, TWO art kits, and GOBS of books. We have two disks for our computer. One is Facemaker and the other is Jeopardy!, which is fun, but the other contestants -- Glenn or Keith -- can really get on your nerves."

I actually remember those little pixelated turds on the Jeopardy! game. They buzzed in before you could even read the question, so yeah: Eat a big bag of dicks, Glenn and Keith.

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February 10, 1988: "Sorry I haven't written in a while, Diary. I dropped you behind the drawer and I finally figured out a way to get you out."

Jaws of life.

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December 8, 1988: "I went to the orthodontist today. My teeth hurt. They're constantly changing the wires and I'm sick of it. I'm like, "When is it gonna be final?" And I hate it when they are sitting there talking to each other about hamburgers while putting on one of life's most painful things."

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Between December 15-19, 1988, there are multiple entries and quite a bit of drama about not wanting to wear some fancy dress to school, including: "I don't see why I have to wear a dress that is so fancy for the whole school day Monday when all the other girls will be wearing jean skirts and Scottie dog sweaters." (Apparently Scottie dog sweaters were all the rage in '88.) I wish I could remember what this was all about, but I'll just have to assume it was another example of my mother's taste level being too high for me to fit in. She once staged a coup at our church when I was told I was supposed to wear white shoes for my Lutheran confirmation and the ceremony was BEFORE MEMORIAL DAY YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS JESUS TAKE THE WHEEL.

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December 24, 1988: "Santa will bring all kinds of nice stuff. I don't know why but I just can't stop thinking about it."

I have no idea why a kid would get excited about Christmas morning, either. Probably the greatest mystery in this diary.

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January 24, 1989: "I'm never telling my mom about my D on my open book social studies test."

Don't read this, Mom. It says 'never.' Also: I got a D on an OPEN BOOK test?

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April 1, 1989: "Sam Mack was arrested a few days ago."

Ahhhh, great moments in Cyclone history, documented by a child.

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April 16, 1989: "On the 18th Cocktail is coming out on video. I want to see it, but it's rated R. I love Tom Cruise."

Barf. Wow. Just wow.

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On June 9, 1989, I was apparently left home to babysit my brother while my parents were at a party. I went on for four pages about how I was afraid someone with a knife was going to jump out and stab me but that I didn't want to tell my parents because then they wouldn't let me stay home alone with my brother anymore. Then I wrote, "I wish my parents would come home soon."

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June 18, 1989: "I'm getting all kinds of letters, cards, and stuff about my poetry. It's the biggest thing that's ever happened."

(That year I won a state poetry contest and there was an article about it in the Waterloo-Cedar Falls Courier. It truly was THE BIGGEST THING THAT'S EVER HAPPENED. Especially considering that I was a dummy who got a D on her open book social studies test.)

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October 3, 1989: "School is going well. I can always get my locker open."

It is obvious from reading several pages of this diary that my major concern going into middle school was whether or not I would be able to get my locker open on a regular basis. 

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There are also several entries updating my diary on what was going on in the wide world of sports. If you need any men's college basketball scores from 1988-1989, this is probably your definitive source. Please note, however, that all scores also come with a report of whether or not I practiced piano.

Off weekend.

My year with the man.

September 2011-September 2012 was the best, craziest, worst, scariest, most exciting, and least exciting year of my life. And now Labor Day 2012 has come and gone and I'm left wondering what the future holds.

Last Labor Day I became a mother at 6:26 p.m., when a cone-headed purple stranger came out of my uterus and started asking me for things. I probably should have known something wasn't quite right when my first reaction to this event was sheer terror, though I also suspect many women have felt the same but don't want to admit it.

As the first day folded into the first week I started to learn who this little purple person was, and I loved him. But I was still terrified. Every time my son reached a new developmental milestone or required a different type of care from me, I spent a week walking around with a lump in my stomach, certain I was unable to meet the challenge and certain that the terrifying situation was some sort of permanent change in my life. Hormones and fear were, at times, paralyzing forces in my life.

Now that a year has gone by, I have felt some of the stress melt away. In fact, I distinctly remember waking up a few weeks ago and feeling completely happy and content for the first time in quite a while. I know that I will be worried about C.J. forever -- I get that. But I also know that every time I think of my boy, my heart hurts because of how very much I love him. At the end of the day, I believe that's the salient point.

So what have I learned through this experience? I have learned that the first year of parenthood is actually pretty boring. You don't leave the house much. I have become a pretty big TV watcher, which I kind of hate. To make matters worse, I have found myself drawn to happy-go-lucky programs that require little mental investment. I guess I spend enough time worrying about my son that I don't really want to worry about world events, too. As this begins to change, I will stand behind my year of "Man vs. Food" and "19 Kids and Counting" as something I needed for mental health reasons.

I have also learned, for all the feminist notions I carried with me into this marital adventure, that I'm pretty much in charge of the parenting stuff. When I recently overreacted to a doctor's visit at which I was told my bottle-loving son was already supposed to be weaned, my husband suggested that maybe I should have read a book about feeding a 1-year-old. When I asked him why HE didn't read a book about feeding a 1-year-old, his reply was simple: "You're the mom."

Touche. I am the mom. There's a reason those NFL players say "Hi, Mom" after winning the Super Bowl and those scary biker types have heart-shaped "Mom" tattoos: because Mom was the one who read the book about how to comb out their cradle cap when they were four months old.

One other thing I have learned is that our culture really glorifies the concept of being busy. If you're not being pulled in a million directions, you're not a good parent, a hard worker, or a person of worth. I'm okay with the fact that there is not a lot going on in my life right now, and I'm okay with the fact that I sometimes have to tell people I can't do something even though I don't have a "good reason." I have vowed to raise my son to live in the moment and appreciate the simplicity life can hold without scheduling every minute of his day.

What else have I learned? Denying a baby the gift of sleep is cruel. Moms like to judge one another in even more detailed ways than I ever imagined. Kids develop at their own paces. Whole milk is delicious. "Zoey" is now a major character on Sesame Street.

And I've learned that when your baby smiles and hands you a book he wants you to read him, you truly learn the meaning of the phrase "melts my heart."

Now to hose C.J.'s dinner off the kitchen floor.

Key Lime Cupcakes

I know it's kind of faddy, but I love baking cupcakes. There's something about them that just makes me happy, and I am particularly in love with this recipe for key lime cupcakes. So, just in time for summer, here it is!

KEY LIME CUPCAKES

For the batter:
1 c. all-purpose flour
3/4 c. self-rising flour
1/2 c. unsalted butter, room temperature
2 lg. eggs
3/4 c. buttermilk
2 1/2 T. fresh lime juice
1 T. grated lime peel

For the frosting:
1 8 oz. package cream cheese, room temperature
1 1/2 c. powdered sugar
1/2 c. unsalted butter, room temperature
1 T. grated lime peel
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract

1) Preheat oven to 350 and line muffin tin with 12 paper liners.

2) Whisk both flours in a medium bowl and set aside.

3) In a large bowl, beat butter until smooth. Add sugar; beat to blend. Beat in eggs one at a time, then add lime juice and lime peel.
4) Beat flour mixture into butter mixture in three additions, alternately with buttermilk in two additions.

5) Spoon about 1/3 c. of batter into each liner and bake cupcakes until tester inserted into center comes out clean, 20-25 minutes. Cool 10 minutes, then remove from pan and cool completely.

6) Beat together all frosting ingredients in a medium bowl until smooth. Spread or pipe onto cooled cupcakes.

Barefoot, pregnant, and...feminist?

"The world will be changed when dads play an equal role in raising children."

-- Gloria Steinem on feminism and parenting

That makes sense.

Nowadays we're hearing a lot of chatter from people like Blossom, who asserts in her book that spending 24 hours a day, 7 days a week strapped to her children is feminist because it aligns with women's original, natural, biological roles. I guess I can see that, too, but...

Hmmmmm, wonder where this crisis of inadequate-feeling mothers is coming from?

Now, I'm not saying being a "feminist" anything should follow a specific formula -- just the opposite, feminism is about empowering women to make their own choices and be respected for them. Stay-at-home moms who believe in co-sleeping and other methods of attachment parenting can be feminists, no doubt. But knowing our feminist icons believed men and women should share parenting equally and that women should strive to shatter the glass ceiling, it can be difficult to reconcile the increasingly louder voices that say mothers should be permanently attached at the breast to their children until they go to college.

And using a sensationalistic magazine cover to add fuel to the fire of this whole woman vs. woman vs. woman debate -- on Mother's Day, no less -- is just shitty. Looking at you, Time magazine.

Time's new cover story (which I haven't read yet but intend to) is about attachment parenting -- a philosophy espoused by Dr. Sears, a religious nut who wrote 1993's The Baby Book and 1997's The Complete Book of Christian Parenting & Child Care, which asserts that working mothers are destroying society.

Rather than looking at Dr. Sears' writings and saying, "Hey, that seems like kind of a crappy thing to say about women," mothers are increasingly embracing this point of view. Most of them are young, educated, wealthy mothers -- like your Blossoms -- who have the luxury of saying when they will and will not work.

I wouldn't say my mother necessarily had the "luxury" of staying at home with my brother and me, but my father made enough money and my mother (a teacher) made so little that it ended up being the best solution for our family. I loved having a stay-at-home mom. But I also don't think that I would have felt any less loved or have grown up to be a psychopath if my mom had taught junior high English five days a week.

Why? Because my mother used good old-fashioned common sense and good old-fashioned unconditional love in raising me and, because of that, I felt secure no matter where I was...or where she was.

I happen to think following our practical instincts, using a middle-ground, common sense approach, and loving our children unconditionally while striving to lead as comfortable a life as possible can make for a happy, well-adjusted child, even more than following a dictated parenting "style." One of the best pieces of advice I received when expecting my son -- one which would likely cause Dr. Sears to gasp in horror -- was from my grandmother, who said: "Don't forget: Your children come to live with you. They have to fit in your lifestyle."

Because while being a slave to your child's every need (and I'm not talking about young babies, here -- being a slave to them is just a fact of life) sounds good for the child in theory, haven't I also been reading about the epidemic of entitled children, teenagers, and young adults in our society? You know, the ones who make everything about themselves, who lack independent decision-making abilities, and who expect to be rewarded no matter what they do? It's hard for me to believe there isn't a link here.

So where does that leave feminism? I wish I knew. In some respects, the recent surge of interest among young women in domestic activities like cooking, crafting, and homemaking makes me happy because I have always been interested in those pursuits myself. But in other respects, it scares the bejeezus out of me because it feels like my generation is dismissing the progress of the feminist movement -- things like creating equal opportunities for females in the workplace -- as bad or unnecessary, as things that shouldn't have happened because women are supposed to be at home with their babies.

Philosophies like attachment parenting tend to come and go in cycles, but this most recent one seems extreme, cutting to the core of feminism. It seems the common thread in all the motherhood debates is that they marginalize women and cause them to fight amongst themselves and that they don't have an answer.

But what else is new?

My homemade granola 'craise'

So, I have a secret I've been stashing in my kitchen cupboards for about 10 months now: When I was pregnant, I bought every flavor of Ocean Spray Craisins in a single trip to the grocery store.

Here's what's left of the coolsaster
that was my Craisin spree.

Pregnant women can sometimes have interesting relationships with food. I never went nuts with overeating or having crazy cravings, but I definitely had my quirks. And that one summer evening, standing in Dahl's Foods, I went quirky in the dried fruit aisle. I was going to buy regular Craisins, and then I saw the different flavor infusions available and LITERALLY COULD NOT DECIDE which flavor sounded yummiest. I was standing there like a freak for at least five minutes with absolutely no hope of achieving clarity about this very important purchase.

So I threw them all in my cart.

Now of course I didn't go home and eat all the Craisins after that, so it's now almost a year later and I still have several Craisins at my disposal.

But! I've found a good way to use them: homemade granola.

And yes, it's worth the effort to make your own. Soooo much more flavor than store-bought. There are a lot of different recipes out there for homemade granola (and they all sound fantastic), but the basic formula is the same for most recipes: toss old fashioned oats and nuts in a sweetened oil-based mixture, bake, and add dried fruit. I've made such flavors as cinnamon/cranberry, walnut, vanilla almond, "garbage," and everything in between. Here's a basic template to follow for making your own at home.

1) Preheat your oven to 350.

2) Whisk together your "granola glue." For me, this generally consists of about 1/2 cup of oil (vegetable, walnut, hazelnut, grapeseed are all good options), 1/2 cup of brown sugar, and two egg whites, plus any flavor infusers you want to use (honey, cinnamon, vanilla extract, maple syrup, etc., etc.).

3) In another bowl, mix together the oats with any nuts you want to include (almonds, pecans, walnuts, etc. -- if you want to use cashews, wait until the end to add those). Another thing I always add to this mixture because, why not? It's good for you: flax seed meal. Just 1/4 of a cup or so. Pour the "glue" on top of the oat mixture and combine thoroughly.

4) Brush a rimmed metal baking sheet with a small amount of cooking spray or nut oil and spread the granola on it.

5) Bake the granola in three 15-minute intervals. Use a metal spatula to stir it every 15 minutes. With about 10 minutes to go, I like to add the dried fruit (chopped pitted dates, golden raisins, CRAISINS, etc.) and sometimes also drizzle some extra honey over the top to help boost the sweetness and crunchiness.

6) Cool the granola on a clean baking sheet and store in an airtight container.

Malted Milk Cookie Tart

Warning: Do not eat this if you are one of those types who only eats nuts and berries you pick up off the ground. There are no healthy ingredients in this dessert -- only mostly butter and sugar. It is easily one of the tastiest, most decadent treats I've tried. So yeah, it's a a favorite recipe.

Next time I post a recipe, I'll try to make it be for vegetables a la whole grain or something like that. Maybe.

MALTED MILK BALL COOKIE TART

1 1/2 c. all-purpose flour
1 c. malted milk powder
1/2 c. sugar

1 tsp. coarse kosher salt

1 c. unsalted butter, cut into 1-in. pieces (room temperature)
1/2 c. bittersweet chocolate chips (do not exceed 61% cacao)

1/2 c. malted milk ball candies, coarsely chopped

1) Preheat oven to 325. In a food processor, pulse flour, malted milk powder, sugar, and salt. Add butter' pulse until moist clumps form.

2) Transfer dough to work surface and gather into a ball. Press evenly into the bottom of a 9-in. tart pan with removable bottom (can also substitute 9-in. glass pie plate).

3) Bake crust until evenly golden brown, about 45 mins. Remove from oven and immediately scatter chocolate pieces over; let stand 5 mins. to soften, then spread melted chocolate over hot crust and into the well that will form as the center sinks.

4) Sprinkle candy pieces over top. Cool completely before removing from pan and cut into wedges to serve.

Noms.

About Pat

I don't personally know Pat Summitt and wouldn't pretend to, but her coaching career seems to have been linked to my life in many ways. So it certainly seemed fitting that, when she coached her last official game for the Tennessee Lady Vols last month, I was there.

Growing up with a die-hard Iowa State fan and hoops-playing father, I knew college basketball from a young age. But I mostly knew Iowa State men's basketball. Two-hour drives to Hilton Coliseum to watch Johnny Orr coach such players as Jeff Grayer and Fred Hoiberg were a fun treat and fond memory from my childhood.

Iowa State had a women's basketball team in the 1980s -- I now know this -- but it wasn't something I was really aware of at the time. When ISU hired Pam Wettig as its coach in 1985, the story was mostly of interest because her sister was an actress on the TV show Thirtysomething. The Iowa State team wasn't very good and the sport didn't have the national respect or parity it enjoys today, so I didn't know much about the team from my favorite school.

I just knew the Lady Vols.

Well, that's not entirely true. I also remember watching Dawn Staley at Virginia, Charlotte Smith at North Carolina, and of course the Lady Techsters with those short-sleeved uniforms. When I was a kid, the ONLY women's basketball you would ever see was the Final Four...so the only teams I knew were the ones that achieved at that level. But boy, did I love watching it and loved cheering for Tennessee. Realizing girls and women could play basketball beyond the driveway (the only place I had ever played at that point) was an awesome revelation to me. It inspired me. Then, when I realized that women could coach women's basketball, I just simply fell in love with Coach Summitt.

When HBO came out with its documentary "The Cinderella Season" when I was a freshman in college, I think I watched it about 10 times. There was something inspirational to me about seeing a woman be so successful and powerful in a stereotypically male role. I guess you could say that Pat Summitt was a natural role model for me.

As a regular media volunteer for these sorts of things, I was fortunate that the Lady Vols came to Iowa for the NCAA tournament twice in my lifetime. Of course, last month I never saw Pat Summitt any time but during the games. Frankly, I think it was a sad weekend for a lot of us: how shockingly sad it was for those of us who aren't close to the program but have long admired Summitt to see how quickly her health really was deteriorating. And how sad it is to think about anyone having to go through what she's going through.

But Holly Warlick was awesome, and I know she'll do a tremendous job taking over the program and building on Pat's enormous legacy.

And perhaps it was she who said it best when a reporter asked about Summitt’s fiery demeanor on the sideline against Baylor in that last game: “That’s Pat. Her love of the game, she’s not lost that. She may forget where her phone is, but she’s not gonna forget to yell at the officials. She’s still competitive. I don’t care what disease she has; she’s gonna go down swinging."

Although I was supposed to remain neutral, I was rooting for Pat not to go down but to keep swinging. But I know, in her way, that she will.

Thank you, Pat!

Let's keep it real

I've had it with the mommy bloggers. (Also: the term "mommy bloggers," but I digress. Already.) But you know what I mean: the ones with blogs organized into categories like "Fashion," "Organic Baking," "Breastfeeding while Jogging," and "Economics Dissertation"? I mean, come on. Just because someone can pretend she has her crap together in a daily blog post does NOT mean she isn't really just like the rest of us: accidentally brushing her teeth with diaper rash cream, creating a borderline Hoarders situation in the guest room, and having buckwild crying jags over things like not being able to open a jar of fancy olives.

Because these things are just part of being a new mother.

It's not easy, but we all feel like it should be easy or else we are bad, bad, bad people. The hormones just totally take over.

I mean, seriously: the crying. I've gone full-on John Boehner over topics ranging from debilitating baby farts and malfunctioning wireless routers to particularly sympathetic Cupcake Wars contestants. Clearly I have trouble discerning what's worth waterworks these days. And when I start to think about what a bad wife, mother, friend, employee, exerciser, or homemaker I perceive myself to be it gets, um, really not good.

So yes, I'll admit it: I am a bit of an emotional mess. A high functioning emotional mess, I'd say -- but an emotional mess nonetheless. And based on some things I've slowly learned from talking to others, I think I can expect to be for the rest of the first year of motherhood. I am annoyed that the books, doctors, and other expert types seem to like asserting that your emotions will normalize in eight weeks. Because guess what? When I didn't stop being an emotional trainwreck after eight weeks, I got a whole lot more emotional trainwrecky.

Not that I'd ever do it, but staying off the innernets would help us all. A person could spend hours online in those perfect little mommy universes and see all the wonderful displays of domestic goddess-ness. But don't go there. It's just an illusion. Enjoy the Instagram photos of homemade peach cobbler and try not to make comparisons. Deep down, we are all nervous wrecks with disorganized piles of baby gear in the basement and toilet paper stuck to our shoes.

Over the last few months I have learned from reading online that, no matter what may be frustrating or concerning you about parenting, you apparently have absolutely no right whatsoever to complain about it. Now, let me be clear: I am not pro-complaining. It's annoying and no one wants to hear it. But just the other day, I saw an editorial piece asserting that parents specifically had no right to complain about any of the challenges of parenting because, well, they chose to be parents.

But aren't most things people complain about things they chose to bring upon themselves? "My boss is a d-bag." (Stop complaining! You CHOSE to work there.) "My legs are sore from this workout." (Shut up and don't complain! You CHOSE to order P90X from that infomercial!) I mean, I suppose these are valid responses to these types of complaints...but I think most people would consider you an a-hole if you actually said them.

So that's something else to feel guilty about. Have I lost perspective? Am I just as whiny and out of touch as the awful subjects on STFU, Parents? Oh, god: I forgot to work in worrying about that when I was busy feeling guilty about not spending enough time with my husband, not baking a birthday cake from scratch, and not blogging my baby's developmental milestones.

But that's the thing, isn't it? Apparently the first year of motherhood is pretty much all about feeling like an inadequate person with a virtually limitless list of things to feel guilty about. It's an adjustment of your time, your resources, and your hormones for which you will never actually be prepared. So give up, give in, and give me some chocolate cake and a box of wine.

And try to cut yourself some slack. Have a good cry if you want to. But you know what will always cheer you up at the end of a long day of neglecting your child while doing your job poorly?

WIS WITTO FACE.



Or insert your own favorite face here. Because, seriously: So cute and so worth it!

Vegetarian Tacos

One of our favorite easy weeknight dinners is tacos and, frankly, I think some of the best ones are of the veggie variety. Here are two super easy, super tasty recipes I recommend.

BLACK BEAN TACOS WITH FETA & CABBAGE

1 15 oz. can black beans, drained
1/2 tsp. ground cumin
5 tsp. olive oil, divided
1 T. fresh lime juice
2 c. cabbage coleslaw mix
2 scallions, chopped
1/3 c. chopped cilantro
1/3 c. crumbled feta
Sriraccha sauce (or your hot sauce of choice)
taco shells

1) Mash together beans & cumin in a small bowl.
2) Heat 3 T. olive oil and cook beans over low heat.
3) In a medium bowl, mix lime juice, coleslaw, scallions, and cilantro and toss in 2 T. olive oil. Season to taste with salt & pepper.
4) Fill taco shells with beans and top with coleslaw mix, feta cheese, and hot sauce.

SUPER VEGGIE TACOS

2 T. olive oil
2 medium zucchini, diced
3 scallions, sliced
1 can corn, rinsed & drained
1 can pinto beans, rinsed & drained
2 c. baby spinach, chopped
2 tsp. chili powder
1/4 tsp. ground cumin
1/4 tsp. dried oregano
3/4 c. tomatillo salsa (salsa verde)
sour cream
white cheese
lime wedges
taco shells

1) Heat 2 T. olive oil in a large nonstick pan over medium high heat. Add zucchini and scallions and cook appx. 5 minutes. Add chili powder, cumin, and oregano. Cook appx. 1 min. Season to taste with salt & pepper.

2) Stir in beans, corn, spinach, & Salsa. Cook until spinach wilts.

3) Fill taco shells with veggie mixture. Serve with sour cream, cheese, and lime wedges.

Five things that are saving my life right now

I haven't blogged much lately. Things have been a little, um, different around our house since we added our third family member. And since I went back to work in January and started taking the little guy to day care, things have been downright hectic -- in large part due to the fact that C.J. has contracted 3-4 cold viruses, bronchitis, stomach flu, and a couple of ear infections in that timeframe, most of which he has also been kind enough to share with his mother and father. Things are supposed to settle down with a 4-month-old baby, but for us that's the time when things heated up and got crazy. Now he's almost six months old and I'm wondering if I could get those two months back.

Being a working mom of a new-ish baby has revealed some things to me that have definitely made my life easier. I'll share them with you here in the event they may be helpful to you as well.

1. The Nap Nanny Chill
When I first ordered this item, I was kind of kicking myself in the face for spending 130 bucks on a piece of contoured styrofoam. But it has been WORTH. EVERY. PENNY. Especially through CJ's colds, congestion, and illness. It's a comfy way for him to sleep upright when he's congested (also good for babies with reflux). I use it as a recliner for him to sit in while hanging out with the family, and it's a great place for bottle feedings when the little guy's a little fidgety. These are awesome, though I won't be buying any as baby gifts since they take up quite a bit of space. I'll leave it to new parents to decide if they need one of these (they do).

2. Rotisserie chicken from the grocery store
I used to wonder why they sold these. Duh. They are awesome. When you don't have a lot of time to took, shredding one of these up and adding to a vegetarian dish (Wednesday night I added some to spicy baked macaroni with tomatoes and spinach), salad, or soup is a super easy way to complete a meal with some protein. Have I mentioned my husband loves meat?

3. Mucinex
I have always hated their gross "talking blobs of mucus" television commercials, but this stuff really works. It will knock out your cold, but not you.

4. OneKingsLane.com (home furnishings), JackThreads.com (men's furnishings) and BabySteals.com (baby gear)
These are three of the best websites I have found to get awesome deals on stuff. I actually shouldn't be telling you about these, should I?

5. Walgreens
I am so happy there is a Walgreens within a stone's throw of my house. I am there at least once a week, and not just to pick up CJ's and my many antibiotic prescriptions. This is the BEST store at which to save money on all kinds of things. If you take the time (and yes, it takes a little bit of time) to clip national coupons, scan the weekly Walgreens ad, cross-reference manufacturers' coupons with Walgreens specials, and (bonus!) clip Walgreens coupons, which can often be combined with manufacturers' coupons, you can often save about half off your bill -- especially if you're willing to buy multiples of the same items (Walgreens loves a BOGO deal) and stock up. Seriously. A couple of weeks ago I shopped in there and felt like I was on the show "Extreme Couponing." The people behind me in line asked how much I saved and cheered when I announced it was 62%. Yes, I am a huge baller for getting free M&Ms, deodorant, and grape juice.