Thanksgiving Traditions

I LOVE Thanksgiving.  I truly enjoy being around family, friends, and neighbors.  I love the smell of amazing foods drifting through the house (in our case for a full three days straight!) And I love the traditions. 
Our family has had a lot of rich tradition when it comes to Thanksgiving as long as I can remember.  Some of our traditions are considered "normal" by most standards, a few are unique to our family, and some are off the wall completely insane - like the pies.  But either way, they are tradition, and they are OUR traditions, and they are what make the first feast of the holiday season something that I look forward to every single minute of the year. 
These are just a few of my favorites:

Bread Cubes.
There's the tradition of breaking the bread cubes for the stuffing.  This year I handed this one off to my three youngest.  It was always the youngest kids' job in the kitchen to break the bread cubes.  I always thought it was fun, and mom was trying to include us - I know now that it's because it keeps little hands busy (and out of the pies) for at least a solid 20 minutes.  That time right there...that's golden.


(yes I do believe Jesse is eating some...)

Cranberry Sauce. 

The super bubbly amazing whole berry stuff ... the kind that DOESN'T Hold the shape of the can as it comes out (that stuff is only good for sandwiches the day after...)   The kind that pops and bubbles and burns your arms as you stir it...Good times.

Pie.
And I do mean PIE.  Lots of it.  This is one thing I remember from growing up with my mom ...  we never EVER wanted for Pie.  Mom made all kinds.  Cherry, apple, blueberry, Mince (AKA Stinky Feet), Lemon Meringue, Banana cream, coconut cream, bumbleberry, Strawberry, Sunday Cream (that deserves it's OWN section), Blackberry, Chocolate Silk, Pecan and Pumpkin - and I'm sure I'm forgetting a few.  Typically, by the time we were done, there was a ratio of 1/2 of a pie per person.  sometimes one full pie per person.
It. Was. Awesome.
This year I made 6, and my sister in law brought 1.  We had 20 people total (and one was an infant who doesn't eat.)  7 pies for 20 people equals about 1/3 of a pie per person.  I'm getting close to the tradition!


Sunday Cream Pie.
In my family, Sunday Cream is more vital on Thanksgiving than Pumpkin.  It's a family recipe handed down from Grandma Johnson (or at least that's how I remember it) I have no idea if it's her own creation or something she found somewhere.  Either way, it's important.  It's nutmeg and custard and whipping cream and .... just amazing fluffiness in a pie crust.

And it's topped with chocolate.

It's also the first pie to disappear.  (and my big 'ol spoon has NOTHING to do with it.  Honest. *snort*)

Carving The Turkey

Carving the turkey is an honor (or so I've been told). When I was growing up, it was Dad's job, if we were at Grandma and Grandpa's - Grandpa did it.  I'm not sure if that was tradition, or simply because they just didn't trust us women with knives after we had been cooking and dead on our feet (and only slightly mentally available) by the time the turkey is served.  Either way, I remember it being Grandpa or my dad who did it. 
This year, we were blessed to have Ammon's Grandpa here for Thanksgiving, and he graciously accepted the honor /  challenge to carve both turkeys. 

He even carved it with my Grandpa and Grandma Johnson's carving set.  First time I remember it being used since my Grandpa Johnson used it to help carve our Thanksgiving turkey years and years and YEARS ago...
Yes, I cried.
A lot.

Friday After

For most people, the Friday after is about turkey sandwiches, pie, and relaxing in front of the television...or black Friday shopping, whatever...
For me?  It's about Pie, cards, family and leftovers.  Usually turkey sandwiches on leftover rolls (if there are any - usually it's wonderbread...rolls never last around here.) This year , we piled all the pie into the back of the Yukon and went over the freeway and thru the tunnel to Grandma's house (see how I did that?  clever eh?  *giggle*)  The Yukon is exactly five pies wide - which meant one rode on my lap...and I didn't even stick my fingers in it and eat it on the way. (probably because it was apple, and not one of the cream pies...I thought that one through!) 
Anyway, we played games, had dinner, chatted with family, looked at photo albums....it was an amazing time. It brought the weekend to a great close - and we still had two more days to relax and play.

I love Thanksgiving.  I love traditions.  I love my family.

What are some of your favorite traditions?

Sometimes The Smallest Things Make the Biggest Difference.

It was Sunday, and I was playing with my kids.  We were running around the house having a tickle chase, and I was winning – let’s face it, I’m bigger, I’m faster, and I’m the mom – no one is going to challenge me.  My kids and I love this time together on Sunday mornings.  It’s our play time.  Dad isn’t around so he has no idea how rowdy we can get.  (I’m sure it’s the same way when I’m gone and it’s just he and the kids too.)
Well, on Sunday, our chase came to a sudden, screeching halt.  I was chasing Jesse into his room yelling, “I’m gonna get ya, you better run faster!” when I placed my foot down quickly, and with a great deal of force.  I wasn’t quite sure what I stepped on, but it didn’t feel good.  Pain shot all the way up my leg, into my shoulders and down the other side.  I instantly fell to the floor, tears welling up in my eyes, and my son looks at me innocently and says, “See mommy, I won!”  He’d made it to the bed safely without me catching him.  I laughed half heartedly, but I couldn’t move.  My foot was throbbing.
I snatched at the floor, where a shirt was lying, and underneath it lay a small, about the size of a medicine cup – toy.  This small little unassuming thing was the cause of all my pain.

I inspected my foot only to find a small pin point of a bruise forming, and assumed it would stop throbbing fairly soon.  We got up off the floor, my son helping me to my feet (with all his four year old strength).  And we laughed a little about how silly it was that mommy got hurt from a toy.  My son set immediately to picking up his room.
Later that evening, the bruise had grown to about the size of a quarter, and the foot was still throbbing.  I laughed it off, figured it would go away.  Monday I ran my errands as usual, took a trip to the doctor to follow up on my ear etc, but having my foot in a shoe was a true painful event.  I couldn’t wait to get them off when I got home.  I wish I hadn’t taken them off, I wish even more that I hadn’t looked at my foot.  This is what waited for me:

Don’t worry, it’s just a bruise – but very painful indeed.  Oh well.  I’ve learned some things from this experience.
1) I’ll never steam full force blindly into any situation again.  I’m going to educate myself on my surroundings, my opponents, and the job that needs to be done before I head full force into anything.  Walking blindly into any situation can be a dangerous thing.  Even with a  client, I need to review their website, know something about their work, their needs  – and know a little something about how I might be able to serve them before I rush head on into a conversation or a negotiation.  It’s just good common sense. It can also keep me from getting hurt. (physically and metaphorically)
2) Sometimes “nothing” really is something.  If I have a nagging sense that something else might be wrong, I will investigate it further.  It doesn’t hurt to make that extra phone call and one more check in with a client just to be certain they are fulfilled in their needs.  Sometimes something small (like my bruise) can grow into something much larger and harder to repair if we don’t catch it head on.  If I had taken steps to elevate my foot and care for the injury – the bruise would not have settled and become as large and as painful.  As it is with a client, if we keep moving forward as if nothing is wrong because we don’t take the time to find out – it can grow into something much larger and harder to repair.
3) It’s okay to cry and let out the frustration once in a while.  It’s okay to let others know that you might be needing a little assistance.  When my son realized that I had gotten hurt because his toys were not properly put away, he immediately went to the task of taking care of them, without being asked.  Sometimes all we need to do is ask for a little help.  Other people aren’t going to read our minds and know when we need assistance, we need to ask for it, and it is okay.  We can become ill, overwhelmed, tired and frustrated.  It’s normal. Asking for help when needed is not weakness, it’s wisdom.  However, you don’t want to over play the sympathy card either, and some point it goes beyond assistance and approaches dependence.
4) No matter what, everything is a learning experience.  We all make mistakes.  I knew going in to that room that there was a possibility something on the floor would be stepped on or broken.  However, I went in anyway.  Sometimes we can be fully prepared for every situation, and still make a mistake.  The important thing is what we take from it, and what we can teach others because of it.
So what do I know?  Toys hurt.  Mistakes get made.  But in the end, I’ve learned something, I’m still going (although with a little assistance), and I’ve learned some valuable lessons.  I’ve learned that the smallest things can sometimes make the biggest impact, and that’s worth the pain.

No Use Crying...

The loud crash and subsequent splattering of chocolate milk all over the kitchen SHOULD have been a clue as to the kind of day we were headed for, but it wasn't.  I actually was pretty cheerful about cleaning up the mess and consoling the completely besought five year old daughter who had spilled it.  It's just spilled milk - no use crying.
Yes, I really did say that.  And, yes, I really did want to smack myself for it.
It's actually been a really eventful few days.  Never mind the fact that the spousal unit is across the world with a fifteen hour time difference...life is never dull or boring around here, and the kids are constantly cooking up new ways to keep it interesting.
This saga - well,it's not something that was done on purpose, but it is something that has to keep us on our toes for the next week or so.
What could it be?
Well - a spider bite, of course.
warning: this post is not for the faint of heart or weak of stomach.
For those that don't know, Alison was bitten by a spider.  Most likely a Brown Recluse (Eeeeewwwww!) and most likely while playing in our backyard.  I've never seen a Brown Recluse personally, but I've now become very familiar with them, and their stupid bites and venom.  So much so - that our house has become a battle field, and war has been declared on every creature with more than four legs (because you know, we have a dog and cat too.)
The bite happened Tuesday, to the best of our knowledge...really became painful and troublesome by Thursday, and by Friday it had turned into a - well - we're going to go with a REALLY painful sore. 
Anyway - In the emergency room (where I ultimately ended up) they cut it open, drained it out, and added a drain plug to it...then told me to take her home and have the plug removed Monday.
Wow - the way I just described that in one little sentence...doesn't quite capture the night...
I took her to the ER...
SCREAMING.  (her, not me)
They took her back.
SCREAMING. (still her, not me.)
they looked at the bite, and determined it needed to be cut open and cleaned.
(this is where she stopped screaming and it was more full bodied sobs.)
She declared "I'm better now, and I want to get out of this place."

(smart kid)
They wrapped her up in this mummy type thing so that they could keep her from kicking and pulling away.

(poor sweet little thing)
Then they started to numb it with a few shots of lidocaine...
"Does it feel better yet?" 
No!
No!
NO!
NOOOO!
"ACTUALLY IT DOES, YOU CAN STOP DOING THAT NOW!!!!"
I don't know who was crying more, the doctor, the nurse holding her down, her, or me.
Anyway, they got it all cleaned up,and then awarded her with a popsicle for her bravery.

And then, we went home.
Flash forward to today - where we were supposed to go have the drain removed and all would be hunky dory in the world.
Nope.
Seems that the antibiotics (she's on two) haven't quite done their job, and the infection has festered even more.
Yay.
So off to PCH where they did the whole thing again.
This is what it looks like now.  I'm supposed to leave it open and let her soak in a tub twice a day for twenty minutes so it stays clean. If it isn't better by wednesday we have to take her back to the surgical associates to see if they can surgically clean and repair, because you know, that sounds like fun.
(not for weak stomachs)

So, after the whole spilled milk thing this morning, I have to say  -  milk in the scheme of things is very little - I'm not even worried about it - except of course that some of it might have seeped under the fridge where it will gather and become sticky and a source of food for more more-than-four-legged creatures - and now I am going to be pulling the  fridge,stove,table and everything else out so that I can clean it up properly.  And all by myself because the husband type person is thousands of miles away.
No use crying over spilled milk.
Nope.
It's the spiders I worry about.

Life Outside the Bubble - Day One

I've never been one to care about what other people think about me or what I do. Or at least, I've always told myself I don't care. Typically I just go about my business and don't give a second thought to what others might be thinking or feeling about me.
But today, I cared. And it seems I cared a lot.
I had to teach a lesson in church today about minding control of our tongues. The words we say can hurt others. The words we say can hurt ourselves.
Keep in mind, I teach a class of 9 to 11 year old girls.
The one thing I'll say about this entire lesson, is I love my girls. Endlessly. We talked about how James said that you cannot get salt water and fresh water both from the same spring. We discussed how you cannot get olives and figs from the same tree. They pointed out that you shouldn't kiss your mom with the same mouth that you talk badly with...not sure where they got that one from, but at least I knew they were paying attention...I think.
We watched the video of President Monson talking about the Oak tree and hidden wedges. We talked a lot about how gossip and words can hurt. We talked about how laying your sorrows at the feet of the Savior can help you overcome whatever hurt may come from hidden wedges and hurtful words.
This lesson gave me an opportunity that I hadn't given myself. (or that my busy over-the-top schedule hasn't permitted) I don't plan to go into details here - it doesn't need to be hashed out in public - but it's been a tough couple of weeks and it wasn't until today during this lesson that I realized that I did care. I do care what people say or think.
I was tearing apart inside, although I was holding it together fairly well on the outside. We went through an exercise with the girls where I brought each one up to the front of the room and pointed out some of their amazing qualities. Great daughter. Good friend. Kind heart. Smart. Funny. Gracious. I then invited each girl in the room to name one quality they liked about the girl at the front. One by one we pointed out all the great qualities that they each possess. I bore my testimony that words can mean so much to someone, and that if we speak as HE would have us speak, we'd be keeping His spirit with us always and that will help guide our lives with blessings and happiness.
And then they did the unexpected.
"Wait, Sister Hancock, we need to tell you what we love about YOU."
One by one they told me what they admired about me.
Kind.
Loving.
Nice to me.
Funny.
Great teacher.
Crazy (they meant that in a good way...I think.)
They have no idea how much they touched me today. On the way home in the car, I broke down. My husband had walked in and experienced the last few moments of the class. He'd also been fully aware of my weekend at Time Out for Women and the soul searching I've been doing. He then took my hand and told me...
You're my best friend.
You're a great mom.
I love you.
My cup is overflowing. My heart is full. I am so thankful for the little blessings in my life. And just like I was teaching my girls today, yes, words do hurt - but if you take your pains and sorrows to Him, he will find a way to lighten the load. He will take them away and help replace them with warmth and gratitude.
My first day finding out who it is I am to Become, and already I'm feeling overwhelmed and encouraged by the loving kindness of those around me. I have no idea what I'm going to find on this journey, but I'm so grateful for the loving support while we experience this together.

Life Outside The Bubble

This past weekend I had the incredible opportunity to attend Time Out for Women, which if you don't know what that is, you should. It is a two day long conference for women focused on uplifting and edifying and feeding your heart and soul. For two days you are immersed in good feelings, surrounded by friends you have never met, and lifted up by positive messages. The whole experience is almost overwhelming.
It was in these last two days as I listened intently to the speakers and pondered on the words of their messages that I became painfully aware of something that I may not have fully known up to this point. This moment of clarity was not something I was searching for, or at least I didn't know I was searching for it, but when it found me I knew I had found an answer to prayers I didn't know I had uttered.
It is a good thing that God knows the intentions of your heart, even when you don't.
So what was this moment of clarity? This big awe inspiring moment? I realized that I have been trying to fit myself into a predefined bubble. I have been working towards a seemingly designed perfection that is set up for women of my general age, of my general religion, and of my average demographic. I have been trying to reinvent myself to fit into some mold that has been placed for me by society in general, and had convinced myself that anything less than that standard of perfection was a failure.
The theme of Time Out this year was 'Become.' Become the best you that you can be, and become the daughter that our Heavenly Father knows you are. The challenge was to find your Become, and well...become it.
I will Become. I will find my purpose outside of the bubble of perfection that I have been trying to fit myself into. I will stop living my life to be what others expect me to be, and start living for my Become. I am who I am supposed to be. I am a wife to my husband, a mother to my children, and I am me. I have purpose and reason and meaning, and although I am not sure which box those fit in, or even if they fit in a box at all, it is my Become, nobody else's, and right now that is enough.
Please bear with me on this journey, and if you should feel so inclined leave encouraging thoughts and messages below. Let me know your Become. Share with me your experiences. I can't possibly be the only one living outside the bubble. Quite frankly, I know it isn't going to be lonely out here with you all here with me.
For more information on Time Out for Women, you can view their website at www.tofw.com.

Time out for women

So, it's finally here. The two day women's conference that I have been helping sell tickets for for the last six months.  Speakers from all over the country are here to talk on womanhood and being the best you you can be.
But that's not the story here.
Not by a long shot.
So my friend A and I decided to drive together. (Being the socially responsible carpoolers that we are and All-yeah, sure.) Anyway our morning started off fairly normally, we were up and out of the house and on the road by 530. That's right sports fans..That is AM. Did you know that time existed on non school and workdays? Me either, but I digress.   We made a quick stop to get snacks for the day (we had intentions of buying sandwiches, but ended up with chips and doughnuts...don't judge.) We then made another quick stop for water (because our brains at five AM apparently do not process that salty snacks constitute need for beverages.) And then finally arrived at the parking garage.
This is where the story starts.
We got to the parking garage bright and early and had our pick of spots in the lot. We picked the one of the closest spots to the elevators, and got out of the car excited for our day of uplifting, spiritual talks.  We press the elevator button, it announced It's arrival with a cheerful "ding" and I led the way to step inside.
There was a pile of garbage on the floor.
It moved.
I screamed and uttered words I am sure my sweet friend A has never heard me say before. 
We made a b-line for the stairs, rushed down to the security booth and started to explain to them that there was a guy in the elevator.
The guard was shocked and wanted to be sure we were okay, and immediatley asked if we were harmed or assaulted (in my current state of mind, I can't even tell you if that is spelled right) at all.  I am pretty sure we somehow were able to tell him that it was a non moving human, in a garbage bag...yes a garbage bag...(at this point the security guard was speaking to A directly....I was a horrible blubbering mess and I am pretty sure I was hyperventilating at this point too.)
Security was called.  The elevator was investigated. From a safe vantage point down the street, A attempted to calm me down while we watched and waited with bated breath (well A did, she is the only one who had control of her breathing at this point). Several security guards swarmed the area (by several I mean three) one stopped to ask if we were the ones to find the man in the elevator.  Again A spoke for both of us. I am actually pretty surprised looking back that nobody tried to treat me for shock. I am the one that nearly stepped on him afterall....
We looked back, he walked out of the elevator on his own. A breathed a sigh of relief, I began to breathe a little better, but am still shaking at this point.  In fact as I blog this...still shaking. A is laughing hysterically at me right now and telling everyone not to bother the crazy lady. We are supposed to be listening to the assignments for the day, all I can think about is breathing regularly.   I am such a light weight wimp.
Anyway, today is Time Out For Women.  I am here to be uplifted, spiritually fed, and to hyperventilate and go completely crazy in the parking lot. It should be a good day.