View from the Prairie Box

Sayonara, Steve Pederson.

I’ll be the first to admit I don’t understand the politics behind Husker football. At any rate, it didn’t take a football genius to know that changes were in store for the University’s program after the big loss on Saturday.

This post is my chance to “look cool about knowing stuff early,” says my husband. But, as he noted in an email, I’ve already been beat by the Journal Star article referenced above. I’m using the post to fill my blog on an otherwise boring and empty (blog-wise) Monday.

Yes, people. I don’t have anything else I’d rather be doing right now. The dishwasher’s a’washin’ and the babe is a’sleeping.

I just posted a recipe for Lindsey Friesen’s Chocolate Bundt Cake on Needs More Butter. And though it made a delightful breakfast this morning, I only tagged it as “served at community dinner” and “dessert.”

Too bad there’s not a tag for “sweet-tooths may eat at any time of day.”

Livia, not certain about the dancing monsters behind mom’s back

It’s that time again… Time for another visit to one of the local farms with harvest festivities. This year I learned of the term “agri-tainment” (which our newspaper wrote as “agri-taintment” but surely that can’t be right!) and agri-taining it certainly was. The entry prices went up, there were no more free pumpkins from the fields, and the bounce houses were a dollar extra–yet, it was all for the support of a local business so I didn’t mind. Plus, the kids had SO MUCH FUN running around the farm and going on the hayrack ride. It was well-worth the few extra bucks I spent.

I should also note that I plan to attempt Jeannette’s delicious from-scratch pumpkin pie again this year. Last year’s pumpkin became decoration, so hopefully I’ll follow through in ’07. Stay tuned.

I suppose I’m ready to be 30 afterall… I just Sharpied black the bare midriff on Livia’s Happy Meal toy.

I’ve been on the countdown to 30 since December 7, 2006, the day after I turned 29. On the sixth of every month I have this eerie sensation: Goodbye, twenties. I’m going to be 30 soon. Don’t bother telling me how ridiculous I’m being because I’m fully aware of the silliness. And for the record, I have no problem with my friends, my husband!, and others turning 30+. It’s fine if y’all need to go ahead and grow up, but I’m not so sure I’m ready to head into my thirties. I’m going to be thirty-something. Like the TV show. Hmm.

Here’s where I want your opinion, dear friends, fellow bloggers and previously anonymous readers. What should 30 year olds not do that 29 year olds can? Is there an age where people should dress and “act their age”? What age is that? The real question I want answers to is, when should men and women stop shopping in the young and hip juniors department at Target? Bring on the widely varied responses. The more the merrier. And heck, we all have opinions on this stuff, so opine away.

My talented friend (and stylist) Carrie turned my hair a lovely deep shade of red yesterday. I felt like this was something to be done before turning 30. Why? No clue, but I like the way it turned out!

Class, this is Owen James Choi. Owen is new to town. In fact, everything about Owen is new. His skin is new, his eyes are new, his chubby little knees are new. His parents might be feeling kind of new, too. I already love Owen and I suspect you will, too. Make him feel welcome! : )

German Apple Cake

Needs More Butter continues to grow in number of recipes and inspires me to try new dishes from the Morehead and O’Donnell households. If you have a favorite dish you highly recommend, send it in my direction! r_l_t_@_tredways._org (get rid of the underscore marks and email away)

Me: Do you remember who gave you that toy?

Livia: Yep, Bean. [pause] Pretty cool, honh? Pretty cool, son!

Son? It’s like we just got off the basketball court where she schooled me something fierce, maybe slam-dunked a ball over my head or something. Liv’s hip with the lingo, yo. Son.

I don’t actually know that these gorillas, from Omaha’s Henry Doorly Zoo, are related, but I like to imagine they are. The adorable baby would clap his hands and beat his chest (almost like he was just pretending to be a real gorilla) and then go jump on the medium-sized gorilla for a game of “tickle-wrestle,” as Jeremy and Liv call it. In fact, the whole time I watched the little one goad the bigger one into wrestling, I couldn’t help but think of the way Livia loves to jump on Jeremy until he’ll, well, tickle-wrestle. The funny thing was Big Mama, the gorilla I imagine as the matriarch. She never moved her hefty belly at all, but just sat and GLARED at the zoo patrons. I’m watchin’ you and I don’t trust you one bit. Hilarious.

“Parents need to say what they mean, mean what they say.”

This is the title of John Rosemond’s parenting column in today’s Lincoln Journal Star. The family psychologist then states the importance of “no” meaning “no” when it comes to raising children.

Easier said than done. Seriously.

When I am running around the house, trying to get the day started, it is easier to repeat my instructions (“Livia, get your shoes on”) ten times rather than stop to make certain she obeys. Sometimes I just dislike being the enforcer–I’m a classic softie who would much rather cuddle and keep tensions low than watch my child erupt in anger and tears. But allowing Liv to disobey by not “saying what I mean and meaning what I say” is a dangerous thing and makes a mockery of my job as a parent. Furthermore, the longterm effects of disobedience for my daughter will lead to her destruction, not to a rich life for her and the people around her (Proverbs 19 speaks very clearly to this).

Enforcing instructions is time-consuming at this point. Really, it’s a fulltime job that requires forethought, planning and the patience of Mother Teresa. I can see why even good parents feel like running for the hills on challenging days.

Livia had just received a brand new purse this afternoon from her Nana by way of Jen Allen (thank you, Jen!). She delighted in showing me the multiple treats inside the little black bag: a packet of gum, a container with coins, and a small white pumpkin. Livia and her bags are a charming combo, I must admit. In retrospect, taking away her new purse was absolutely the right thing to do when she ignored my instructions and warnings (issued twice) while leaving Nana’s house. But that didn’t make it any easier, especially when her small voice apologized from her car seat on the ride home. I, once a small girl quite masterful at employing all manners of manipulations, was not surprised when this apology was followed by, “So, can I have my purse back now?” Heh. My struggle is not with grace, it is with sincere discipline. So no, she didn’t get the bag back. The consequences remain the same and Liv will be reunited with her latest acquisition tomorrow morning.

God, give me strength to do this job. I now have the slightest of understandings of how you must feel when I disregard you. And the slightest of understandings of how much you still love me. Livia is the most beautiful object lesson I’ve ever received.