I did do all the work, you know.

All you women know this feeling.

The feeling that comes over you after the umpteenth-hundredth time, another observer claims that your child looks so much like your husband. And, how she doesn't look like you at all.

This is just plain annoying.

I mean, I did carry this child in my body for 9 months, or in La Petite Belle's case, 11 months.

I felt every move, every hiccup.

I had cravings for Mexican food and steak.

My body was transformed and I have scars to prove it.

I DID have something to do with this child. Heck, I did have EVERYTHING to do with this child, except for that tiny little thing ... (ahem) that microscopic you-know-what provided by her daddy.

Now, I don't want to hear anymore smack about how much she looks like her daddy. Not a word.

Give me a little bit of credit here. I deserve it.

She's the spitting image of her mother.

FYI: Beau's pictures at this age ... skinny and blonde ... sounds like another daughter of mine.

Weird. I know.

France ... you confuse me.

I am in no way a fan of France.

Never have been. Probably never will be.

I love their crépes and baguettes, but not their government.

That being neither here nor there, I discovered this bit of recent news.

France is trying to ban Scientology.

Ban it. I didn't know a country could do such a thing.

A court in France just ordered the French leader of this organization to pay $44,000 and serve 2 years in prison for "organized fraud." The court also says the organization "threatens public order." The Church of Scientology is ordered to pay $900,000. Read about it here.

France refuses to recognize Scientology as a religion, but a sect and a "profit-generating commercial organization."

Now there are more high-profile members leaving and threatening to leave the group.

Of course, the group, which claims to have 8 million members world-wide, says they will fight back.

I don't understand anything about Scientology, except that it's based on the wacky beliefs of a science fiction author and something about dianetics (which I assume has nothing to do with diatetics, which I do understand).

Here's a taste of what Scientology has to offer.

But, here's my concern: Can a country decide what is and is not a religion?

That fact is scary to me.

Because some could definitely say that Christianity "threatens public order." I'm sure that's what the Pharisees said about Jesus when He walked the earth.

Some could also say that the church is a "profit-generating commercial organization." We command members to give their money to the church if they want to live in accordance to what the Word of God says.

Although I'm happy that Scientology is rightfully getting a bad rap, I can't help but think about what opinions of high-ranking officials could mean for Christianity or any other religion in the future.

I'd love to see the end of all false religions and for all people to worship the One and Only True God.

Is this how it could happen? Or is this more like the end?

Why I Got Angry

It's funny how Facebook has changed so many of our lives and the way we communicate.

A person can write something or change their status, without thinking anyone is even paying attention, and then you see people that are your Facebook friends in real life and they question you ... "What's wrong? Why are you angry? Who are you angry with? What happened?"

Funny.

Over the weekend, while I was at a wonderful women's conference, I, in my haste, wrote this as my Facebook status: "(My real name) feels inspired and angry at the same time."

That's all. It was just how I felt. No biggie.

I was inspired by the speakers ... Bobbi Houston, Christine Caine, and most of all, Charlotte Gambil.

I was inspired by Delynn Rizzo.

I was inspired by the music ... incredible worship and even Natalie Grant (despite the diss).

I was inspired by the thoughts shared by the women I was with.

But, I did get angry.

Angry to the point of tears.

Not because I couldn't see the stage very well.

Not because the services did last longer, usually went over by half-an-hour to an hour each service.

Not because the place was so jam-packed that it was uncomfortable.

Not because Natalie Grant dissed me.

I was and am angry at the devil.

I was and am angry at society.

I was and am angry at women.

I have become disappointed in us, as women.

Disappointed that we go to conferences, we read books, we do Bible studies about the same topic, over and over again, and we still don't get it. Myself included.

How many times do we need to hear about identity? Who we are in Christ? Not letting society dictate who we are and our worth?

It's the same message over and over again.

Every year, the same thing.

It's time that we, as women, find out who we are in Christ, and not waver.

We are strong women, valued by God, with purpose, and we are confident in who we are, both mentally and physically.

That's it.

Plain and simple.

How can we fulfill the purpose that God has for us when we don't even know who we are? When we're too busy continuing to search for significance?

We are significant. We have purpose.

Now, it's time to move.

Oh, and I had some fun too.

My sister ... um, I mean friend. I forget sometimes. I love this woman.

Two more friends.

Thank God for good friends who help you to grow in your own faith, by not only encouraging you, but challenging you.

I'm ready to stop fighting the same battle and move on.

(After reading this post to Beau, he said, "Good. Now go get me some egg nog." I'm surprised he didn't throw a "woman" behind that statement. Of course, I said, "Get your own darn egg nog. I'm way too significant for that." Obviously, my next post may have to be on submission.)

Just in case you have absolutely nothing to do for three hours ...

I was introduced to this recipe by a friend who made it for one of our Bible studies.

She had mentioned that it required extensive preparation.

I loved the dish and decided to make it myself, with Beau's assistance, of course.

The dish: Emeril Lagasse's Eggplant and Potato Moussaka.

I should have known it would be quite an event because it was by Emeril. Actually, anything made by most of those Food Network celebrity chefs are more difficult (except for my girl, Paula).

We began cooking the dish a little after 3:00 p.m. and it didn't make it into the oven until about 5:30 p.m. That's a lot of prep. The prep time on the recipe only said one hour and 20 minutes. Wrong.

Let me say ... it is quite delicious. It is also very hearty and filling. Beau and I could only each eat one small square. Of course, we had been snacking on fried eggplant and potatoes while cooking. That may have done it.

And, the lamb mixed with the beef ... yum. It definitely gave it that Mediterranean taste.

Ladies & Gentleman, I give you ... Eggplant and Potato Moussaka.

• Ingredients:
• 3 large eggplants, peeled and sliced into 1/4-inch slices
• 1 1/2 cups olive oil, plus more as needed
• 3 large baking potatoes, peeled and sliced into 1/4-inch thick slices
• 1 1/4 cups all purpose flour
• 5 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 1 medium onion, finely chopped
• 3/4 pound ground lamb
• 3/4 pound ground beef
• 1 tablespoon minced garlic
• 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
• 1/4 cup dry red wine
• 2 tablespoons tomato paste
• 1/2 cup crushed tomatoes
• 1/2 cup water
• 2 tablespoons minced fresh parsley leaves
• 1/2 cup salt, plus more for seasoning
• Freshly ground black pepper
• 2 1/2 cups milk
• 1 egg, lightly beaten
• 1 egg yolk
• 1 1/3 cup grated Kefalotiri cheese, or Parmesan or Romano

Directions:

Place the eggplant slices in a large bowl and cover with water. Add 1/2 cup of salt and agitate gently to combine. Let stand for 20 minutes, then drain and pat dry with paper towels.While the eggplant is soaking, heat 1/2 cup of the olive oil in a large skillet and, working in batches, add the potato slices and cook until lightly golden on both sides, 3 to 4 minutes. Transfer to a paper-lined plate to drain and repeat with any remaining potato slices. Season lightly with salt.

Place 1 cup of the flour in a bowl and dredge the eggplant slices in the flour. Shake to remove any excess flour. Add 1/4 cup of the remaining oil to the skillet and, working in batches, fry the eggplant slices until golden on both sides, 2 to 3 minutes per side. Add more oil to the skillet as needed in 1/4 cup increments. Repeat until all eggplant has been cooked. Transfer to a paper-lined plate to drain.Heat 2 tablespoons of the butter in a large skillet and, when melted, add the onions. Cook until tender, about 4 minutes. Add the ground meats, garlic, and oregano and cook, stirring to break up any lumps, until meat is browned, 4 to 6 minutes. Add the red wine and cook until evaporated. Add the tomato paste and cook, stirring, for 1 minute. Add the crushed tomatoes, water and parsley and cook, stirring occasionally, until almost all liquid is evaporated, 5 to 10 minutes. Season, to taste, with salt and pepper and set aside.

In a medium saucepan melt the remaining 3 tablespoons of butter and, when hot, whisk in the flour and cook, stirring, for 2 to 3 minutes. Gradually whisk in the milk, stirring until smooth and thick. Season with salt, to taste, and whisk in the egg and egg yolk. Stir in 1/2 cup of the cheese and set aside, covered, while you assemble the casserole.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Lightly grease a 9 by 13-inch casserole dish and place the sliced potatoes in the bottom of the dish in an even layer. Top with half of the eggplant slices and half of the meat sauce. Spoon 3/4 cup of the bechamel sauce evenly over the meat sauce and sprinkle with 1/2 cup of the cheese. Top with the remaining eggplant slices, pressing down on the layers gently with your hands to compress. Top with the remaining meat sauce and then spread the remaining bechamel sauce evenly over the top. Sprinkle with the remaining cheese. Bake, uncovered, until golden brown on the top and heated throughout, 50 minutes to 1 hour. Let stand for at least 40 minutes before cutting into squares and serving.

For more recipes, head over to Linda's place.

The Night I Got Dissed By Natalie Grant

I should have known I was off on the wrong foot ... um ... LITERALLY ... when I walked to the elevator of my hotel and noticed these on my feet. No thanks to my friends, nonetheless. True friends tell you when you have two different shoes on and you're about to head to an event with hundreds of women.

Thank God I noticed. (You know when you put the two different shoes on when you're trying to decide which one to wear ... I was trying to decide and forgot.)

We did get to the conference despite the torrential downpour.

We did have a little favor with some special VIP privileges, but did end up sitting so far back that I could only see the backs of heads.

Charlotte Gambil spoke. Look her up. She's awesome.

Natalie Grant sang. Incredible.

Then, we headed over to the special meet-and-greet dinner for the VIPs.

All the speakers were there. And Natalie Grant was there too.

I thought I'd give her some space for a while before I asked her for a picture and told her how incredible she really was. I had a great opening line all planned.

She was being quite bombarded with ladies. Some ladies seemed to not leave her alone.

I was trying to be polite and let the woman eat. She just sang her head off. Give her some space.

Towards the end of the night, I was on my mission to get a picture with her to be posted on here today.

As soon as I got up to her, she turned her head and I think I saw an eye roll. She said she was ready to go. She seemed a little irritated.

I was standing right in front of her and I think I got out the word, "Nata ... ," before she turned her back on me and left.

Um ... wait ... did she just diss me?

Doesn't she know who I am?

Doesn't she know I have influence over like 10 people?

I will give her the benefit of the doubt because she's so incredible and say she didn't see me.

I guess there really are "no such thing as perfect people."

Yeah, I guess I still love her.

No Respect

As you can see I was Honorable Mention in the "roking" category.

It's the picture ... I'm sure of it.

Whose high school school picture from the early '80s doesn't "rok?"

A large hen and some other stuff

I attempted for the second time to make my grandmother's chicken and dumplings recipe.

Why is it that no one measured anything back in that era?

"A little bit" is not a measurement. "The size of your fist" ... also not accurate.

No wonder our recipes never taste like our grandmother's recipes. It's all a matter of perspective.

I think it's a conspiracy. Then, no one could ever say, "It's just not as good as Grandma's." I'm sure I'm onto something.

Well, I did make the chicken and dumplings the old-fashioned way. No biscuit cans. No Bisquick. No cream of chicken soup.

I boiled the "large hen" that the recipe called for. I debated, while standing in the meat dept., which hen was a "large hen." I finally settled on a 5 1/2 pounder.

I rolled out the dumplings and cut them by hand.

La Petite Belle looked a little cleaner than I did.

The final result was pure comfort. My children each had seconds and said they thought it was delicious. Both of them liking a dish this much rarely happens. I felt quite good about my endeavor.

Here it is: True Southern Chicken and Dumplings. Northern dumplings look and taste quite different.

Now, for the recipe, that has been handed down from my great-great-grandmother and probably her mother too. It's old, people.

Chicken and Dumplings

Boil 1 large hen in salted water until cooked; cool and debone.

In medium large bowl, put 3 T. butter (at room temp.) with 1 large egg and beat until mixed. Add 2 c. half-and-half, 1/2 tsp. salt, and sufficient flour to make stiff enough to handle. Roll out on a floured surface into 1/4-inch thick. Cut in grid fashion. Drop one piece at a time into 6 c. chicken broth over medium-low heat. In between layers of dumplings, sift a little flour, a little heavy cream (I used half-and-half.), and black pepper. Do not stir. Add the chicken on top of the dumplings. Cover and cook on low heat until done. Do not handle dough too much as it will become tough.

That's it.

Like I said, there's quite a bit of room for error, but for the most part, I don't think it's that difficult.

This was the one recipe I asked for every time I went to Grandma's house. I remember the dumplings being light and fluffy. Total perfection.

It's hard to match the memory of what it tasted like, but it was still very good.

For more fall recipes, head over to Linda's. This will be going on for the next 5 weeks. Fun.

It's like I'm bipolar.

In the previous blog, I expressed my frustrations and irritations from the week. And there were many.

Is it just me or is it a fact that the older you get the more irritable you are? Or maybe you're just less likely to put up with everybody else's stupidity or thoughtlessness?

Hmmm ...

Well, today, I'm happier. Less irritated.

And, here, are some reasons why:

* I picked this up at the Piggly Wiggly (yes, these really exist in the South) last night. Half the carton ... gone.

* Egg Nog being in my house reminds me of Christmas, which reminds me of my trip to NYC, which reminds me that I just got tickets to see these lovely ladies at Radio City Music Hall's Christmas Spectacular.

* Speaking of tickets ... I also got tickets to see my crush ... no not, Gerard Butler ... no, not Glenn Beck ... but, the unlikely choice of Stephen Colbert. Yep, I'm going to a live taping of his show while I'm in NYC. Yes!

Look ... minus the glasses. Uh -huh. Told you.

* Took the girls to see this movie ...... and watched La Petite Belle cry during the scene where Max has to leave the Wild Things. This was only the second time I've seen her cry ... first time - "Flicka."

* Today, I get to hold a precious baby girl. My friend and co-worker, Tiffany had her first baby. So happy for her and her husband. Holding babies is pretty much the closest thing you can get to heaven. (minus the poop ... I'm pretty sure there's no poop in heaven.)

* And, this week, I get to hear this lady ...

... and some wonderful speakers when I attend this women's conference.

* And, this weekend I got to watch La Petite Belle's soccer team win 2 more games, making them undefeated. Turf Girls never quit!

It's gonna be a good week!

Things That Have Been Irritating Me This Week

When my daughter comes home from school and says that another girl said she can't play with her because she is not "cool"

Not being able to help my child with her math homework because my math skills go no further than the 5th grade

Mothers that are enablers and think their child never does anything wrong, all while their "angel" child makes "The Omen" kid look like a Christmas elf

Miscommunication

The fact that my husband has found a new obsession ... Demon Solitaire ... that actually made the girls late to school one morning ... long story

The constant changing of La Petite Belle's soccer schedule, which added one more game to our weekend

K Belle's inability to understand the words "I want EVERYTHING picked up off the floor. EVERYTHING."

My hair

Roxy Belle's digestive issues that led her to vomit about a quart of digustingness, right under the dinner table, during dinner

Beau giving my children tap water, or as I call it, "cancer water," because he hadn't changed the spring water jug (His response: "So it's OK for them to have cancer cakes cooked in a cancer oven?" - Translation: Pancakes heated in the microwave.)

How my body has responded to working out after almost a week off due to sickness

The loss of most of my voice (although some may feel the opposite of irritated about that one)

Happy Non-Irritating Weekend!

Sugar High

I'm a little late on this post, but here goes.

If you remember, my little baby turned 9 last week.

The whole day, or should I say week, she was pretty much in a sugar coma.

It started with this on the actual birthday.

Nothing better than a Meche's donut in the morning. Her preference ... chocolate with sprinkles. Two hours later, she probably collapsed on her desk at school, drool and all.

Then, you know how you have to do the whole bring-something-sweet-to-school-on-your-child's-birthday thing?

Well, I did it. Brownies with frosting and M & Ms on top. Not much sugar, you think?

Then, the same brownies were brought to soccer practice to share again. (Forgot to take pictures.) Just imagine 10 little girls, ravenous from an hour and a half of running and kicking, enjoying these little slices of chocolate goodness.

She went to sleep immediately that night.

The same brownies were given for lunches the following days.

Then, there was the whole party with lots of little girls and one very excited little boy. You can't have a party without cake, right? More cake. Oreo cake ... quite yummy.

And, finally the gift she had been waiting for.

In light of this week, be comforted that this same birthday child is actually punished from sweets for a week, due to the sneaking of a Nutrigrain bar for dessert without permission.

For the record, if I were going to sneak a dessert, it would definitely not be a Nutrigrain bar.

Tests

Beau and I put our oldest daughter to a test.

Without getting into any details, let's just say it involved the giving up of information we were already privy to. I was praying and hoping she would trust us enough to volunteer the information (even though she says now she knew we already knew) even if her hide was on the line.

It was a small test. Nothing major.

But, nonetheless, we wanted her to run to us when she had messed up. And we still do.

Needless to say, she failed miserably.

Days went by until we finally just came out with it. We knew. "Why didn't you tell us?" We asked.

The excuse: She thought we already knew, so why bring it up?

We all go through tests.

Heck, I'm smack-dab in the middle of one right now. I've been taking this test for a while now. I'm ready to be finished with an A+ assigned to the top.

God does test us.

Will we just give up because He already knows about what we're going through or will we press on, harder than before? Will we doubt His character? Will we trust His Word?

He does the same thing that Beau and I did with our daughter.

He waits to see what we're going to do.

Will we run to Him or will we rely on our own intellect to figure the situation out?

I choose to run to Him.

I choose to trust Him.

I choose to believe that what He has promised me will come to pass.

I choose to not look at my situation, but to look to the One Who holds my situation, my life in His hands. He is in control.

This is my test. And, I will pass.

James 1:12 - Anyone who meets a testing challenge head-on and manages to stick it out is mighty fortunate. For such persons loyally in love with God, the reward is life and more life.

So, that's what it's called.

La Petite Belle was in the back seat, singing a Miley Cyrus song. Someone had mentioned to me that in the video for this song, Miley was dressed quite scantily.

I asked the girls if that certain video was playing on Disney and if Miley was dressed inappropriately.

K Belle said, "Kind of. She has really short shorts on."

I say, "Isn't her bra showing too?"

K Belle: "Yes."

Beau asks me, "Is this the thing with the pole?" (one of her performances on an awards show, she danced with a pole ... uh ... inappropriate)

I say, "No. They don't even know about that," under my breath.

La Petite Belle: "I know about that. It's called pole dancing. And, I really don't want to talk about that on the way to celebrate my birthday."

Great. Another subject I didn't think I would have to be covering for a while.

How my child knows the words "pole dancing" I don't know, but I will be finding out.

The Pot and the Kettle

La Petite Belle told her daddy yesterday morning that he was being "overdramatic" when he told her she was either a liar or a murderer.

OK, so maybe that was a somewhat overdramatic response to her telling her sister she hated her because she wouldn't braid her hair.

In his defense, the Bible does say if you hate your brother, you are a murderer (1 John 3:15). Hence, the name calling. Hence, the "Daddy, you're being overdramatic" statement.

We determined that she was not telling the truth. She does not hate her sister. Whew. That's a relief. She's not a murderer after all. Just a liar.

This all happened on the same day that La Petite Belle slammed down her elbow on the table when she misspelled a word from her spelling list, cried because her ponytail didn't look good, whined about how tough her soccer practice was, and then took 5 minutes to walk up the stairs like a crab because her legs were hurting so bad.

Take a look for yourself.

All the overdramatics in this house exhausts me.

I will continue to be my no-nonsense, even-keel, non-dramatic self.

I miss this woman.

I lost one of the most important and influential women in my life 5 years ago.

I trusted everything this woman said. She had some incredible wisdom.

Every time anyone was with her, she captured their attention. She was a great communicator ... witty, funny, smart. And, boy, did she have some stories. I could sit and listen for days.

I loved the way she loved me. She thought I was the best thing since sliced bread. I, of course, knew otherwise. But, she always made me feel like I was the most important person in the room.

This woman was something else.

Talented beyond measure. She was the woman in church that sang so loud that, as a child, I wanted to hide under the pew. But, she didn't care. She couldn't help the fact that God had blessed her with this enormous voice. She could perform and taught others to do the same. She inspired me to be a teacher.

She could cook. Man, could she cook! I miss those chicken and dumplings, along with her amazing potato rolls. She cooked everything from scratch and I still remember the day she taught me how to make my very own pie crust.

This woman was diagnosed with breast cancer in her forties. She took care of it with surgery and treatment.

She was cancer-free for the next 16 years or so.

And, then that cancer did something that it doesn't typically do in these cases. It came back.

It is rare that a woman who has survived breast cancer at an early age will have to deal with cancer again in her later years of life.

And, at age 76, my grandmother lost her battle with cancer. Or did she win? Because now she stands before her King and her God, and joins my grandfather in heaven.

I still miss her.

Statistics say one in every eight women will develop breast cancer.

Women, please, please ... self-exams and mammograms ... GET 'EM!

For more stories, visit Fringegirl.

Our lives were changed forever.

Nine years ago today, I was into my eighth hour of my twenty hours of labor for La Petite Belle.

This child did not want to leave the womb.

Original due date: September 16th. That was obviously a miscalculation.

After two weeks of stress tests to determine amniotic fluid levels, one overnight stay in the hospital to be induced and then sent home the next day after it was unsuccessful, another appointment set to be induced again the following week, long labor, and two hours of pushing, La Petite Belle finally arrived.

And, when she arrived, we knew we were in for a ride.

The doctor actually said,

"Do you want me to put her back in?"

The nerve.

Yes, she was loud.

That's OK with us (most of the time). Quiet is overrated.

This baby girl continued to stick by her mama. There were nights when she wouldn't go to her daddy, only mama. There were days where she cried most of the day because she wasn't with mama. There were weekends where she was pulled off of mama to stay in the nursery at church.

This was her typical expression when I was not holding her and someone else was. Whew. I was a tired mama.

This was the typical experience with photographers. This was the one second where there was no tear.

But, when Mama was with her, it was all good. Mama was everything to her.

I remember that I couldn't wait until she grew out of that stage.

And, now, I think I'd like to have that back. Maybe. Sometimes.

She went from this little baby, glued to Mama's hip ...

... to this little girl who can give you a song and dance on the spot in no time.

Now, she still has her moments ... like when you take a tub of frosting away from her. Check out the progression.

I thought it was impossible to love this second child as much as I loved my first child, but I did and I do.

Happy Birthday, little girl! I love you.

She's 9 today.

Good Food, Great Friends, Horrible Movie

I had a great birthday weekend, including a night out with my girlfriends and homemade cookin' at my parents' house. (not to mention a soccer game, more rehearsals for K Belle's "Godspell" production, and the longest wedding I've ever attended performed by the same priest from "The Princess Bride" or Barney Frank ... or a combination of the two)

The girls' night out started with dinner at one of my favorite restaurants, Bonefish Grill.

Here are the girls:

Here's the Bang Bang shrimp:

Because I was in food heaven, I forgot to take a picture of my main dish, which was a seared Mahi Mahi, topped with some kind of delicious sauce over steamed spinach and lump crabmeat. And, the garlic mashed potatoes will make you slap yo' mama.

Here's the argument over which dessert was better: Creme Brulee (the winner) and a brownie ... no competition, Natalie. My creme brulee eats your brownie for breakfast.

Here's the gift:

We killed some time by hopping over to Target for candy for the movie and Starbuck's for coffee. I totally thought I could sneak a pumpkin spice latte into the movie without spilling a drop in my purse. Wrong about the not spilling.

The movie we chose, because of the hilarious previews, was "The Invention of Lying." Bad choice.

The best part of the movie was before it started, when Natalie and I each enjoyed a pouch of Pop Rocks that she bought for me (after she told me she just discovered them ... she's just a baby. I discovered them the year they were invented ... 1975. They pulled them from store shelves in 1983 ... probably still before she was born ... because people thought that if you mixed Pop Rocks with soda, your stomach would explode. Turns out, that's not true. I would have exploded a long time ago if that were the case. In fact, some of my best childhood memories include Pop Rocks.)

Anyway ...

At the point of the movie where the main character made up a "lie" about what happens after death just to make people feel happy, we walked out. The "lie" was the truth that all Christians believe. I felt like my faith was being mocked.

The movie was quite offensive and not funny. The only funny parts were the ones we had already seen on the preview. And, one of us fell asleep, while two others struggled to keep their eyes open, including me.

TWO THUMBS DOWN!

All in all, the ol' birthday week was good.

I've decided that if I'm going to lie about my age, I'm going to lie up. Think of how many, "you look so good for your age" comments I'll get. I think I'd rather that. So, I'm actually 52.