Independence Day

A few months back, my sister-in-law described her 8 month old daughter this way: “She doesn’t crawl yet, but she can get where she’s going”. At the time, I nodded knowingly… but inside I was thinking “Huh? How is that even possible?”

Now, now I understand.

Mackenzie recently made the discovery that rolling could get her closer to a distant toy. Now as soon as she hits the ground, she rolls and scoots, and scootches and reaches and twists and lunges and yes, she gets where she’s going without crawling.

Time to Mackenzie-proof the house.

Why Family Reunions are Worth the Hassle

Scott’s reunion involved very little hassle for me because his marvelous sister planned the whole thing. I didn’t have to worry about renting the houses, coordinating meals and activities, nothing. Nada.

However, it was a Big Deal to get the whole family to the Oregon coast for the festivities (or as close to the whole family as we came, anyway). We flew cross-country with a baby, one brother took time off work and flew from California, one sister flew internationally with six kids and no husband. All the rest drove for 12+ hours in three cars, each containing one of the following:
A) two dogs
B) six kids
C) a spitfire toddler and no air-conditioning.

(That would be an interesting beginning to a Choose Your Own Adventure novel, I would think…)

At any rate, we ended up taking a red eye back and it took a full day for me to get back to into the real world.

When I did, I dumped half of my photos on SmugMug and this one took my breath away:

Mackenzie and her Grandma Bean.

It was interesting for me to have the only baby at the reunion, with 29 people and two dogs in attendance. Mackenzie was very popular. While she was being passed from cousin to Aunt to Grandma and back, I watched her face light up and realized she was only getting a small taste of the love her family has for her.

Take her Grandma Bean, for example. I’ve told Mackenzie how her Grandma flew out to spend Christmas with us and count down the days to her arrival. How she helped me through days of contractions (and lack of contractions), and waited outside the delivery room to hear Mackenzie’s first cries. How she sat with me for the next few days in the hospital, finishing her special blankets for Mackenzie while I fumbled through my first attempts at breastfeeding, and walking unassisted. How she accepted a bundle of crying baby from crying me without hesitation at 2 am on our second night home.

When I see that secret smile Mackenzie is giving her Grandma, I think maybe she understands a little.

If that one moment was the only reason we made the trek to Oregon, I would do it again in a heartbeat.

Cheating

…on eating healthily, with a scrumptious apple oven pancake:

…on Sunday School attendance, to let over-tired Mackenzie get a good nap, and catch up with family on the phone:

…on “milk-only” for six months, by introducing yams a couple weeks early:

Rest assured, we know cheating is wrong and we feel terrible. Well, at least poor Mackenzie does.

Let’s play a game *UPDATED*

The name of the game is:

Guess That Kitchen Disaster

Here’s how to play:

1. Look at the photo below.
2. Go ahead and laugh… “it” was a pretty dumb thing to do.
3. Leave a comment, letting me know what exactly you think “it” was.
4. Go on your merry way, content in the knowledge that you didn’t have as much KitchenFail as Anne did in the month of May. Check back in a few days for The Answer.

Hint: “It” happened as a direct result of my absent-mindedness and general state of distraction as I prepared food for my niece’s first birthday party. My mom swooped in during my time of crisis and was cool-headed enough to avert further disaster. She was also cool-headed enough to take photos for posterity.

Reassurance: No, I didn’t serve that at the party (Hi, Mark).

Empty Threat: If you happened to have heard the story, please don’t give it away in the comments. Or else.

UPDATED TO ADD:

Whole wheat pita dough, in a tupperware, heated to 500 degrees. It was in the second oven, rising, when we decided we’d better fire both ovens up to get more pita baked in time for the birthday party.

I noticed smoke pouring out of the oven, threw open the oven door, and it took me a full minute to realize what I was gawking at. It looked like a plastic volcano, erupting all over the place.

My mom had the presence of mind to clear a path to the back door, grab the rack with oven mitts and hustle the whole mess onto the patio to cool off.

My favorite part? My brother’s offhand remark when he noticed it sitting out there a few hours later: “We’re not eating whatever that is, are we? Because there are flies on it.”

No, Mark. We’re not going to eat it.

Incidentally, the whole wheat pita was delicious. I used this recipe, except I used all whole wheat flour, and I added about 2 tablespoons of wheat gluten. I made 6 times the recipe (in three separate batches). One batch got melted into the Ooze of Doom, and the other two batches were more than enough for the party.