Thoughts on Homemaking

Being domestic is hard.


The home I grew up in was very small for the family that it contained. It prepared me well to live in small spaces as a newlywed and as a Southern Californian. It did not prepare me well for maintaining and keeping a clean and orderly home.

I grew up in a constant state of chaos where very few things had their own place where they actually "belonged". We cleaned up when we had company, and put things where they would fit at the time. This was no one's fault. It is the reality of living in a home you are remodeling yourself in your spare time. Somethings never seem to get done, somethings disappear never to be seen again, and basic chores are much more challenging.
 
I may have brought that laissez- faire attitude towards housework with me when I married. It did not become really apparent until I moved here. When we lived in Utah I worked and went to school, so did my husband. We were happy if the bed got made and the clothes we wore were clean. We were not slobs, we just did not have the time or the effort to do much more than the basics of housework. As I have adjusted to being unemployed I have noticed what a terrible housekeeper I have been all these years.

I have the good fortune of associating with other women who I have been able to glean knowledge from. These women put the home in homemaking. They are well established mothers and housekeepers who take great pride in the work they do within the walls of their own homes. They make their own bread, clean with vinegar and baking soda, budget every dollar as carefully as possible and they have weekly meal plans. They craft amazing things from household items and their homes are comfortable and clean. I began to realize that our home was different as I started visiting teaching.

This is one of the many reasons that I love Relief Society, it is a place to learn from other women. So I started asking for tips, observing others, and I joined Pinterest which all the ladies in the ward were familiar with.

As I was talking with my friend Melissa (What are the chances I'd befriend another Melissa, right?) It dawned on me that homemaking was my new job. I had all power within the walls of my own home. I did not have to live in chaos anymore.All these years, I had felt some degree of powerlessness over my surroundings . She shared a quote from the Ensign about the importance of the home and the work done within it's walls.It touched me deeply. I could lay my own foundation, the foundation to the new life. It was very empowering and inspiring.

(Melissa is the kind of Melissa I hope to grow into someday. She is master and commander of her household. Things run efficiently and smoothly. She bakes, budgets, and mothers in a way that I had not been exposed to before. She is a inspiration to me and I hope to be more like her. She is a quiet woman of great faith who is a talented wife and mother. She understands how to nurture others, a skill that I greatly admire. I have a lot of respect for her and feel lucky to have met her.)

One morning I awoke with a desire to accomplish something. So, I cleaned off my dresser and made the bed. The clean side of the room only highlighted the messy side (Andy's side) so I started working on that too. Little by little I started taking charge of the house room by room, becoming more encouraged with each completed project. As I cleaned and sorted I had time to ponder where I have been and where I want to go.

It seems that I came to California for Life Detox. I had so much poison and hurt in my body and soul. I didn't realize the danger I was in at the time. I see now that things could not have continued that way much longer. I was burning out, losing myself in my grief and the negativity that surrounded me.

While here I have been flushing and stripping away all my bad habits, healing my body and spirit, and getting rid of the things that have been holding me back.  Just as I sorted my boxes and put things in their place in my home, so too have I been able to do so with my life and my life experiences.

 I will always be grateful to my Heavenly Father for this season in my life. I have had a chance to serve and learn from others and I am constantly being blessed with opportunities to better myself and try new things. The Lord has been mindful of me and my house. I am now fully awake. I feel like my life has balance for the first time in years.

I write this post from the comfort of my completely clean and organized Southern California condo. Everything has a place and everything is in it's place for the first time in my adult life. It feels good.

I wonder what I will do next?

Baking, Budgeting, Homemaking, the sky is the limit. It all seems possible from where I sit.








 

Baking

I have been baking lately. Don't act too shocked. We always knew that I was capable, it is a part of my DNA after all.

 Recently, my ward had a dessert auction to help off set the cost of YM/ YW camp. A few weeks prior to the auction a sign up sheet went around Relief Society asking for the ladies to make something to sell at said auction. I ignored it the first two Sundays that it came my way. I have never been a strong participator when it comes to these types of things. I'm not sure why, I just never have.

The third Sunday the sheet came back around I happened to be sitting next to two woman who eagerly signed their names to the list. One of which I know first hand is capable of following a recipe on Pintrest and have it turn out just like the featured picture.

Very impressive and way out of my league. I don't even have a Pintrest account. I'm not sure what possessed me to do it but I added my name to the list and promptly forgot all about it.

A few weeks later, I was talking to said friend about upcoming events and she mentioned the auction, a small bell of panic went off in my head as I remembered I had signed up to bring a cheesecake.

What was I thinking?

I called Catherine, guardian to my mother's culinary creations and secrets, and she gave me the recipe. It should be noted I have made this cheesecake before a long time ago, in my mother's kitchen, under her tutelage, for one of my dear husband's early married birthdays. That was a long time ago in a land far, far, away in a kitchen much larger and better equipped than my present postage-stamp sized one.

After consulting Andy it was determined that I should make a tester cake prior to the auction in case anything need to be tweaked ( I suspect he also wanted to be able to eat cheesecake) or in case something went horribly amiss there was no need to kill or sicken any unsuspecting ward members, we could keep that type of thing within the family.

The appointed morning came. I carefully measured and followed the directions Catherine had given me and the cheesecake turned out wonderfully. No cracks!! It really was a thing of beauty, it looked exactly like my mother's. Who knew I was capable of such amazing feats of domesticity?

Success!!

On what can only be described as a baker's high. I made Banana Bread Bars with frosting and decided to add them to my humble dessert auction offerings. They too looked amazing. Nothing could stop me now!
I then proceeded to make Banana Bread. I was really getting this baking thing down.

Banana Bread Bars

Flush off of  my domestic success of the previous two days I again carefully followed the directions and measured everything precisely to make the final cheesecake.

And the cheesecake came out of the oven with a crack running down the middle of the top the size of the San Andres fault line.

What the?!!

As I called Catherine I tried to conceal my utter disappointment and panic. There was no time to bake yet another cheesecake, the dress rehearsal was over. I was staring down the barrel of opening night.

Catherine comfortingly lied through her teeth as she told me that cracking on the top of the cheesecake was normal and I could camouflage said crack with some strawberries and whipped cream and no one would be the wiser. Yeah, that might have worked if I was Catherine and was as handy with a whip cream container as she is. This is me we are talking about.

After Andy saw what I did with the whip cream and a practice Oreo cookie he helpfully suggested I cover the top with crushed up cookie instead, saving all involved from what would have surely been a whipped cream covered disaster.

After a harrowing trip from our house to the church, I handed over my cheesecake to a young Scout who apparently did not hear me say to be careful as the cheesecake was not firmly anchored to the plate and it could easily slide onto the floor.

 He almost dropped it right there at the door.

Black and White Cheesecake

Miraculously, my cheesecake survived the trip to the stage and was placed with the other dessert offerings. I breathed a sigh of relief.

The auction started and the bidding came fast and furious. Close to the end my cheesecake came up. I was nervous, not for a good price, but because I had been watching the way the Scout boys were picking up and displaying desserts.

I held my breath as he picked up my plate to show it off. Andy told me to look away. He was nervous too. I heard the audience gasp as the cheesecake slid towards the edge of the plate coming perilously close to the edge of the plate and the stage floor. I felt the pressure on my hand as Andy commanded me to look away. I did as I was told. Somehow disaster was averted and the auction carried on.

The price kept going up, and up. I could not believe my ears! I still had my eyes closed. Finally, a price was agreed upon. $70 for my cheesecake!! As the hand off between Scout and buyer took place I heard another audible gasp and looked up to see some sort of commotion a few tables over.

 I could not see what was happening, but I was pretty sure it meant I owed the buyer another cheesecake to replace the one that had been dropped on the floor.

I was wrong. The cake had indeed slid off the plate and into the forehead of a small child sitting at the table and bounced back into its place on the plate. Luckily, he was part of the buyer's family so no harm was done.

They said it was delicious.

In Memory of Deborah K. Southam

I never wondered if my mother wanted to be a mother.

Growing up I heard over and over how much my parents wanted children and how they were told by multiple doctors they would never have any. After four long years of tears and struggle, magically, miraculously, my mom became pregnant with me.

I have been waiting 5 years now for my magical miraculous and I am starting to think that it may not be coming.

When she was alive and we would talk about my infertility my mother would say  "doctors don't know everything." Well, I just finished sitting through my 10th married mother's day sacrament meeting. I cried through the primary's rendition of  "Mother I love you" and I obligatorily stood up at the end of the meeting to receive my token with all the other women in the ward (Dove Chocolate pieces in a small bag.) and I can't stop myself from wondering, where is my miracle?

Andy and I recently plunked down a significant amount of money to go see a doctor who told us there was 25% chance we could be pregnant in 90 days. If I was willing to undergo their procedures, take their drugs, and pay the fees associated. She said we could trick my body into getting pregnant she couldn't promise I would stay pregnant, but they could make me pregnant.

I felt hopeful for the first time in years! A doctor thought I could get pregnant! It would be expensive, and invasive, but I could get pregnant.

It was at that moment I wished I could talk to my mom more than I had at anytime since she passed  away.  I wanted to talk to my mom, a person who would understand what it is like to desire a child and be denied time and time again. Oh, how I missed her then! How I longed to talk to her one more time!

It seems lately, I am being haunted by her; I made her cheesecake the other day and I could have sworn she was with me in my kitchen. It made me start thinking about who my mom was.

She was the woman who was there whenever I needed her. She healed scrapes, bruises and more than once a broken heart. She baked amazing cookies, cheesecake, and banana bread. She never used a recipe, she knew them by heart. She was cultured, she had traveled, she was educated, and intelligent. She told me she always wanted to be a Mom.

 She played the piano, she sang, and she loved music of all kinds and taught us to love it too. She sang in the community version of the Messiah every year for as long as I can remember. She was the only person I ever  knew who knew all the Hymns by heart.

  Many a family road trip soundtrack included Ray Stevens, John Denver, and The Irish Rovers.  It was not rare in our house to burst into a show tune song at the least provocation. I thought everyone did that.

 She made the best potato salad, and loved hosting BBQ events from her patio. She loved reading Better Homes and Gardens and trying out new recipes. She was fearless and famous in the kitchen.

Oh, and could she sew!  I had some of the nicest dance dresses growing up because she made them for me. She made outfits, pj's, play clothes and more than a few school play costumes as well as Barbie clothes.

I had the privilege of spending the most important day of my life wearing the wedding dress she made for me. I will always treasure the memory of people commenting on the beauty and craftsmanship of my dress as they came down our receiving line. She crocheted and quilted countless blankets over the years for family and friends, in fact she was working on one when she died. She did cross stitch, embroidery, and she knit.

She was the best Trivial Pursuit player this world has ever seen. She remembered everything about everything. She was a die hard fan of the Atlanta Braves, Utah Jazz, and the Uintah High School marching band. She was proud to be an Army mom. She was proud to be an American. She was member of DAR and the DUP. She knew everything about the British Royal family and could explain the reason for all their pomp and circumstance. She relished Traditions.

She was a woman of Faith. She loved the Lord and her Family and gave them all she had to give. She taught me service because she gave service. She knew the scriptures by heart, taught amazing Relief Society lessons, and quietly assisted countless sisters as they worshiped at the Vernal temple. She knew all about genealogy and when she talked about our ancestors it was like she actually knew and loved them. She was proud of our heritage.

She sacrificed new shoes, hairdos, and never having a new car, so we could have letter jackets, uniforms, and all the other things teenage kids seem need. I never heard her complain. She was a hard worker, at times working two jobs to make ends meet.

She faithfully planted a garden year after year which never seemed to yield anything other than weeds and green beans. Yet she persevered. I suspect because she was not raising a garden, she was raising four children who needed something to weed.

She was there the day I graduated from Uintah, Utah State University, (twice), and held my hand at Primary Children's when I had life changing neurosurgery at 15. She drove me to Salt Lake every six months from the age of 15 till I turned 18. I always remember those trips with fondness, she made them so fun. She held my hand again in Aug. 2011 two weeks before she died, reassuring me that everything was going to be just fine. She was the first person I saw when I crossed the veil in the temple for the first time.

She loved Olive Garden, JoAnn's fabric, and the Distribution center and she was a big fan of Walmart and the Dollar Store. She loved the deal and she could coupon with the best of them. (She was the best of them.) Carnations were her favorite flower. She loved my Dad and we all knew it.

She was my Aunt Becky's best friend, and she could never understand why Alicia and I could not get along while we were growing up. She made us sing Love at Home when we were mad at each other and she constantly admonished us to "try and get a long." and reminded us she wanted "no empty chairs."

 I never met a woman more excited to become a Grandma than she was when Alicia found out she was pregnant with Stephanie. She relished being Grandma Southam and loved spending time with all her grand kids.

 She taught me modesty, manners, and culture. She encouraged me, and inspired me. I still walk in her shadow even today, and she's been gone almost two years.

 If you knew her you were changed by her, you couldn't help it, it was who she was.

She was many things to many people, but to me she will always be Mom.

Running for my life

I know, I know, it has been awhile since I have written a blog post. I will spare you the excuses and get down to business.

The second week of February I started running. Well, at first it was more like walking with occasional bursts of speed that made me feel like I was going to die, but we called it running.

 It all started the first week of February when I mentioned to one of the girls in the ward my desire to lose weight. She suggested we walk together. There is a trail behind my house and she lived near by. This seemed like a win- win situation for both of us. What she neglected to mention when we struck this bargain was that she was a former state champion runner, who went to collage on a running scholarship.

The first morning was truly pitiful. We went to a park nearby and we ran laps. I made it through two before I started crying. Undeterred, she kept running and encouraging me to run. Eventually, I was able to do 3 passes before I just quit and walked off. I ended that morning, sore, upset, and embarrassed, with a firm determination to never run again. I thanked her for her time and we parted company.

 I had resigned myself to my fate, I would die the same way that my mom did from a heart attack and there was nothing I could do about it.

Imagine my surprise when my doorbell rang the next day at the same time and there she was dressed to run. I was too stunned to protest so I put my shoes on and followed her. As we walked she laid out her plan to help me attain a basic level of fitness. She wanted me to run and lift weights 3 times a week. My goal was to run 20 minutes non-stop and we would start this new program the next day.

I thought she was crazy and I told her so. We agreed to meet at 6:30 the next morning. (I'm still not sure why I agreed to this.) We lifted weights and then we ran the trail behind her house. The weights went smoothly, the run did not. Again, I complained, I cried, and I negotiated, it did not faze her one bit.

Morning after morning of crying, whining, and complaining, all cheerfully endured. We ran in the snow in Utah, we ran in the rain in San Diego, we ran in the misty darkness of morning, we ran in the bright sunshine. We ran in the company of birds, squirrels, rabbits, snails, lizards, and on particularly terrifying day we crossed paths with a baby rattlesnake.


While we ran we talked about the gospel, and the things going on in our lives and we became friends.

She went through my kitchen and told me what to throw out. She took me shopping, and showed me what to buy and what not to buy, and then showed me how to make healthy easy nutritious meals.

And then a miracle occurred. On April 31, I ran 20 minutes, non-stop and it did not kill me.

She is not the first friend that I have ever had, and she won't be the last.

 But she may be the one that saved my life.

Mt. Soledad: Fallen Soliders Memorial

After almost two weeks of rainy drizzle off and on and colder than normal temperatures the sun returned, and it was time to get out and see something new.

Our 101 Things to Do in San Diego brochure highly recommended seeing Mt. Soledad.

Mt. Soledad located in La Jolla, is the highest point in San Diego county. Topping out at a total elevation of 823 ft. It felt more like a tall hill to those  of us who have actually seen mountains. :)  We both commented on how it felt like a fancier version of Pitts Hill in Vernal.

Originally a monument to fallen soldiers it is now both a monument and a city park. There are multiple signs informing you that the cross is not part of the park and it is not maintained by the City of San Diego. Only in California would you see signs proclaiming such nonsense. We wouldn't want anyone to think we believe in a higher power because it might be offensive, or they might sue. Pure ridiculousness!

Fallen Solider Memorial

The monument itself is a large white metal cross surrounded by a fence.Outside of the memorial part of the park are large concrete steps covered with black markers bearing the name and photo of a solider. All branches of the military are represented and the monument is being expanded to included veterans of more recent conflicts such as Iraq and Afghanistan. Some of the markers had flowers near or on them. One of the first markers I noticed belonged to Dwight D. Eisenhower who apparently had some sort of tie to San Diego.

 

That's one tall Cross

Downtown SD in the background

The views from Mt. Soledad are amazing! These pictures do not do the views justice. From the top of Mt. Soledad one can see 360 degrees worth of San Diego.  We had excellent views of the Pacific Ocean, Downtown San Diego, the Temple, and Mission Valley. you really could see it all. Come visit us sometime to see the views for yourself. You won't be disappointed.

 
  

   

Mission San Diego de Alcala

Chapel: Mission San Diego de Alcala

During Christmas Break Andy and I went to Mission San Diego de Alcala. Mission San Diego was the first mission established in California. It was established in 1769 by Friar Junipero Serra. It is known as the Mother of the Missions it is also Basilica.

Friar Serra

At the site there is a chapel, gardens, a museum, and of course a gift shop. The local parish still uses this site as a chapel and  we were able to observe people arriving for mass. We have no pictures of the inside of the chapel because of this. The chapel was beautiful, ornate, and very old. Because it was Christmas time there were red poinsettias throughout the grounds as decorations.

Bell Tower

We were able to observe the beautiful gardens and  hummingbirds flitting about.

A garden resident

The museum told the history of the mission and again, I was surprised that the Mormon Battalion had stopped here as part of their march.
 The mission begins the El Camino Real (The Royal Road) now known as Hwy. 101 and is part of the La Playa Trail the oldest commercial trail in the Western US. The trail connects the missions to each other and stretches from San Diego to San Francisco, There are 21 missions in all, each about a days travel from each other. The nearest one to us is San Juan Capistrano, which I hope to be able to go see soon.

Christmas 2012

Christmas Eve Feast

We spent Christmas here in San Diego. This Christmas was one of many firsts for us. We were apart from our families for the first time. We did not have a Christmas tree (due to space limitations) and there was no snow in site. (Major Plus!!!) The Christmas tree was replaced by a snowman shaped card holder. As you can see we received many cards from friends and loved ones and we were grateful each one.

 Christmas Eve was spent watching various Christmas movies on TV. For Dinner we had spinach stuffed tortellini, olive oil seared chicken breasts with Alfredo sauce, and twisty bread sticks. After dinner we held a special Christmas Eve Family home evening where we listened to Christmas carols and read the various accounts of Christ's birth. It was very peaceful.

Christmas Morning Loot

We awoke late on Christmas morning to see that we had brought each other a few presents. I got a necklace holder with a new necklace, an i-tunes gift card, and some chocolate bars. Andy got the new batman movie set and some chocolate of his own. We both also received new phones but we bought them in November as part of Black Friday weekend. Andy's  is a Droid DNA and mine is a I-phone.

If this Christmas had a theme it would have to be food. I am not sure who was I cooking for, but I made a breakfast casserole and put out an assortment of yummy snack foods to munch on throughout the day.  My mother would have been proud.

Christmas Day Buffet

The best part of the day was talking with our families over the phone and skype. It is hard to believe that my nieces and nephews are growing up so fast. I am grateful to be part of such great families. I hope you all had a Christmas a great as mine was this year.