Around these parts we have a grocery store that is known for it’s killer BOGOs (buy one get one free). I love to take advantage of these sales for hoarding purposes, especially to hoard non perishables and household items. Last week they had a BOGO on peanut butter AND a BOGO on jam- what a heavenly match. Of course without gluten free bread, I can’t make much use of these two things…. or can I? *insert image of me with the Dr Evil pinky finger next to my lip (and remember I have bangs now)*

I present my perfectly delicious, fabulously evil BOGO cookies

mm they look so good I think I need another angle of tastiness

I cheated in my TED diet with these puppies (wasn’t the best idea as the jam made Bo screamy but let me tell you, it was entirely worth it)

The base recipe was one I used “back in the day” and completely forgot about. Gluten Free Girl reminded me of their existence and they’ve been a regular in the rotation ever since.

The original recipe reads like this

1 c creamy peanut butter
1 c white sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 egg

but due to the numerous holes in my brain (I’m fairly certain that each of my babies have found a way to suck my brain out through the umbilical cord), this is what I did

1 c creamy peanut butter
1 c white sugar
1/2 teaspoon Tablespoon baking powder
1 egg

A serendipitous error as the texture was perfect for my plans.

Preheat your oven to 350. Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper. In a medium bowl mix all ingredients by hand (trust me, this is not kitchen aid mixer time. If you do that, you’ll be trying to pick the batter off your mixer for the next 2 years). Scoop up approximately 1 heaping teaspoon of batter and roll it into a ball. Place on cookie sheet. repeat until sheet is full. I was able to cook 4 rows of 3 on mine. pop into the oven for about 10 -12 minutes depending on your desired crunchiness level. When time is up, pull em out and allow to cool on the cookie sheet for a minute or so. Then using your thumb, make a divet (divit? my spellchecker wants to make it divest..) in the center of each cookie. Let the cookies set on the sheet another 3-5 minutes. Then grab up that BOGO jam. I blopped a big ole scoop out into a bowl and mixed it till it was less jar shaped and more puddle of mush. I chose to use blackberry jam but you could do anything from apple to raspberry to booger. I filled each cookie crater with jam and let them finish cooling. Just repeat the process until you get friggin tired of dealing with the oven. Once bored and distracted, roll tablespoon size balls of dough and bake them a little longer. You can give these the jam treatment too or just leave them as it. Next you politely offer cookies to your family and or friends and while they are eating the few crumbs you offered to them, you hoard the rest of the cookies for your later enjoyment. I doubled the recipe so there was much hoarding and secret snacking. MUAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHA

AH HA! There you are Mr Hand; so nice to see you again

Now that the idle pleasantries are out of the way, let’s get down to business

MMM! You taste delectable!

Six years, one month, and some odd days ago, I had a very traumatic birthing experience, one where my 1st official words uttered as a mother were “Is she dead?” Mira had become what everyone thought was hopelessly wedged in my pelvis by her shoulders. She turned blue, then purple then black. A nurse leaped up on to me, ass in my face and began shoving downwards with all her might. My midwife pulled on her wee little head, other nurses wrenched my legs back and I bore down with all my might. The midwife began screaming for someone to get my doctor- they were ready to break my pelvis- when Mira came shooting out like some kind of cartoon projectile. The doctor walked through the door just in time to help pink her up and hear her first weak caterwauling. It.was.terrifying. and we were lucky, very very lucky. She suffered no expected ill effects of being stuck- permanent nerve damage is always a huge concern with shoulder dystocia.

Since then, my babies have been watched very closely for accelerated growth. No doctor wants to repeat that scenario and as enticing as repeating a double episiotomy is, I’ve wanted to avoid it too. Thus Tessa was booted from the womb at 36 weeks and 6 days. Her ultrasound placed her close to the 8lb mark and doctors decided that with the known discrepancies of late term ultrasound, it was time to act. Thankfully they did. Her birth healed me.

Levi was on size watch too when he decided to make his way into the world 1 day before his scheduled amnio, which is now required to evict a baby before 39 weeks. I have a feeling that overwhelming terror of that hollow needle on my part caused my water to break.

I would hope that those of you that know me personally and my long time readers realize that I do not take the process of pregnancy and birth lightly. I have experienced the highest heights of joy as well as the deepest sadness. I make what feels like never ending trips to various doctors so I can be carefully monitored. I read and research like crazy knowing that my doctors are just that- doctors- and not Gods or some kind of omnipotent beings. I listen to my body as it speaks volumes to me, aiding me in making the best decisions I can about what goes on with my treatments. I can tell you that over the course of 3 pregnancies, it’s made my high risk doctor pull more then a few fistfuls of hair out of his head. And right now? I’m listening to my body. It’s telling me that he IS big- whether fat or or long I’m not sure but judging by the pulling, the crushing pressure and my inability to waddle more then a few feet without searing pain shooting down my legs, he’s bigger then his brother was at this stage.

I’m hoping that this little person decides to make his own way into the world before I am cornered into signing a surgical consent form. But know, that if I feel that I need to sign that consent form, I will. It will suck and I will cry and I’ll probably be fairly hysterical about the whole matter but I never again want to utter the word “dead?” at the birth of one of my children nor do I want to end up that way myself which brings me to the topic of an early csection.

If the amnio says he’s ready and the ultrasound suspects he’s too large to pass safely, they will csection me early. This will not be a matter of convince nor a choice made lightly, it will be a calculated move to keep me alive. I take 2 shots a day who’s purpose is to thin my blood. Ideally it is stopped 48 hours prior to any procedure where bleeding is expected. 24 hours is often enough leeway but “often” isn’t good enough when the prospect of bleeding out is so very real. There is a medication that can act to reverse the effects of the blood thinners but it has it’s downside too- if the dosage given is too high the risk of a blood clot forming skyrockets and determining the dosage is no exact science. It’s a total crap shoot.

In speaking with my doctors, they also have a fear that one of these days I wont make it to the hospital in time. If I wind up in labor during rush hour, you very well might be hearing about my minivan baby. Now if he is too big and I’m all hopped up on blood thinners and it’s rush hour- we have a very serious, very BAD situation on our hands. I want to avoid that.

So in conclusion to this long and winding diatribe on why I am doing my best to keep myself and my son out of danger by possibly consenting to medical procedures I am none to thrilled with, I just want to say that I hope you realize that I am thinking with my brain and not entirely out of fear. Does fear play into it? Oh hell yes. I never want to relive the first birth experience but I will not let fear deter me from pursuing the birth that I want. I also won’t let my own stubbornness to achieve my goal of a natural as possible birth endanger the life of my son or myself.

The local reporter and photographer both stopped by Friday and we tidied up the nursery work zone for the occasion- Hung some art, pushed the dresser to where it will be living once we are done with it, tossed down the rug and hung some curtains. What do you think so far?

I made the artwork hanging over the dresser. Here’s a closer picture of it in poor lighting because you know I aim to please

Here’s our HUGE NASA rocket piece

and a little snippet of the curtains.

have I mentioned how much I adore iron on patches? I may hate to iron but my sewing skillz blow pretty hard right now so ironing is less daunting.

Don’t forget to vote vote vote HERE for Erin in Oviedo, and especially don’t forget to enter yourself to win that spa vacation (after you vote for me about 90 bazillion times in a row of course).

When you walk up to Casa de Fidget, you should expect to hear a rather unfriendly greeting of dogs ready to tear you apart. However, if you live at Casa de Fidget this is what greets you when you come home

I have to say I was a bit miffed when we realized you forgot to leave batteries for darling daughter’s Toddler Tabitha doll, now I see that it was not stupidity or forgetfulness but an act of mercy.

Christmas Day I went out to purchase 750 gallons of cranberry juice and picked up batteries so Mira would stop lamenting Tabitha’s non talking/eating/growing state. Since popping in the double A’s and 9volt, all I can think about is burying Tabitha in the back yard.

For starters she talks A LOT. It’s sort of cute that she asks you questions but Tabitha is half deaf so the children are forced to screech at a decibel unholy to my ears to have Tabitha respond appropriately. She is one bossy baby too. I want food, I’m tired, whine whine whine. I have enough whining in my life! It’s so bad we’ve tried enforcing that Tabitha is a “in your room only” toy. We’re still working on that one.

The upside is that Mira is in robot love. She drags her everywhere by her lovely vanilla hair, shrieking Twinkle Twinkle Little Star right along with Tabitha. I wonder if she’ll still love her after I pry out her batteries and pack her speaker cavity with old spaghetti.

::::::::::::Warning I am about to let the language fly::::::::::::::::::::::::::

I’m not kidding, don’t click ‘more’ unless you can stomach some sailor talk
(more…)

The grocery shopping strike continues. We are now 100% out of cereal and my children are currently dueling to the death for the last yogurt smoothie. I found a forgotten package of bacon in my freezer (Bacon forgotten? Ludicrous! I must have stashed it back there to hide from my bacon fiends and in my pregnancy haze completely forgotten it!) and now I am planning dinner- baked beans with buttermilk cornbread. Because apparently you can be completely devoid of lunch meat, bread, cereal, juice, bananas, pasta, fruit snacks, gluten free pretzels, sausage, cheese, - pretty much anything that is a staple in your food stash- but still have buttermilk for cornbread and a long lost package of turkey bacon with which you can make some beans.

In my hunt for food I also discovered some cream cheese and may be forced to cobble this recipe together from what remains of my depleted baking supplies. Would it be weird to beg the neighbors for 1/2 a cup of corn starch?

ok not donuts but cornbread, pie, and anything else I can force myself to do.