Our Lives are Different. And that’s okay.

Growing up the baby of the family isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

There is this idea that being the  youngest means you get away with everything your older sibling/s ended up grounded for weeks for.

Was I my mothers “wild child”? Yes, I’m not denying that. But my sister didn’t grow up doing all the things typical kids and teenagers do.

My sister is disabled. She didn’t go out with friends to the mall, to see a movie, to go shopping. She didn’t date. I love my sister very much and we have amazing memories growing up even though we have a significant age gap of 7 years. We didn’t have the traditional sister relationship where you older sister passes on her experiences and wisdom. But I don’t fault my sister for that. Never really thought about it till now.

I’ve never thought about any of this until recently. There have been a couple things brought up that made me realize that people think my sister is an innocent soul and that I’m the terrible child.

One terrible mistake people make is to assume that disabled means innocent. While it may seem sad that my sister missed out it doesn’t mean that I had it easier. It only means that my experience in life has been different. And that’s okay.

I’m sure I gave my mother one too many gray hairs. I wasn’t a perfect daughter back then and I’m certain I’m not a perfect daughter now. Only in addition to trying to be a decent daughter I have to balance being a wife and a mother to my children.

These are all roles that have their overwhelming moments. I’m nowhere near perfect in any of these roles. I do my best.

I consider myself to have grown up with a good life. I know I wasn’t an easy one to raise but I didn’t turn out too bad.

I didn’t give my mom any crazy trouble until I turned 18. It’s not like I was a promiscuous teenager who ended up 16 and pregnant. I didn’t date anyone in high school. I wasn’t a drop out. When I was 18 I took care of my grandmother until I couldn’t handle seeing her deteriorate each day. I didn’t slack off after I stopped taking care of her. The day my grandma died I was at work. It’s pretty easy to realize whats going on when you drive up and see vehicles from every family member parked along the street. Not easy.

My mom had cancer when I was 15 years old. From a young age I knew I’d grow up to someday take care of my sister or watch her die due to her health issues. I already have a dead father, to think your mom might die, and know that someday you might have to watch your sister die too. That’s rough stuff. But I’m the baby of the family so that means my life was easier, right?

My faults are easier for people to recognize.

Much was and still is expected from me because I’m not the one who is disabled. I don’t feel burdened with it. But I do get bitter when people think I’ve had an easy life.

 

December has arrived!

Yesterday was cold, raining, with the slightest wind. With football on in the background, the babies both napping, I was able to stare out the window for a moment, take a deep breath while I relaxed watching the trees sway. Simple. Relaxing.

Dinner was one of my favorites. It’s easy, it’s delicious, and best of all its FREE.

It’s called, “My mom always makes a ham on Black Friday and has leftovers she needs to get rid of.”
Energy Level: 1

Misconception: Late Night Rant

I’m having a God help me moment where I start to think too much and end up pissing myself off.

I have too many thoughts. I go from pondering about religion to marriage to friendships to the way people perceive me. Round and round. I’m not dizzy, just pissed.

I wonder who really knows me. “Oh her? Yeah, that’s Erica. She’s a mom now.”

I swear I can almost feel the judgement stuck to my skin. I feel that people view me as a girl who fell from God’s grace. A girl who could be redeemed if only she sought God again. A girl who needed to try to grasp God’s will for her life. A girl headed down the wrong path and had to hit rock bottom to see she needed God to make life better again. Poor Erica. Poor, poor, Erica.  That poor girl.

I remember feeling like everything in my life was wrong. Begging God to take away my hurt so I could feel assured he was there and working on things for me. I feel as though I’m viewed as that girl still.

I look back on those days so sad that no one assured me God was with me always. So sad, so alone, and to have someone who is there to help you tell you that it’s because you really need to be still and listen to the signs God is sending you, because he’s calling you, and you’re not obedient enough.

What I felt was very real. What I would learn to overcome was incredible. But I don’t think those around me really know that. It’s viewed as growing out of a rebellious phase. I hate knowing that the aching of my soul was minimized. What was viewed as my aid in my downward spiral was just what I needed.

In my “disobedience” is where I’d be blessed. In my failures, past, present, future, I would grow confident in the fact that God was, is, and always would be with me. I never felt God’s presence wash over me in a heap of joy. I had my questions, I did my research and connected the dots. I’m sure I’ll rant further into theology at some point.

I’m a wife and a mother. I’m a person with something to offer. I know my mistakes don’t define me. But there is something about the minimization that shocks me. I wasn’t a bratty girl. I was a real woman, in my mid twenties, facing life’s harsh realities.

I had too many people telling me who I was and who I needed to be. Now, I’m learning to embrace me. I still struggle, I will always struggle, and there is nothing wrong with it. Only difference is I accept it now. I’m not always okay, but I will be fine. I’m certain.

So yeah, thinking about people’s misconception of me pisses me off. THAT and the fact that I never tried to get on “The Real World”.

Thanksgiving: Green Bean Casserole

November really slipped away from me. The last week I have dealt with a 5 month old with 2 bottom teeth coming in. For myself I was able to enjoy a nice trip to the ER. I must say, there is nothing quite like the experience of an intravenous drug. Thank you, Morphine.

I enter this Thanksgiving week thankful for that dose of Morphine. I’m also thankful that I don’t have Thanksgiving duty this year. But, I will be making a green bean casserole. I’m pretty certain I’ve mastered it, no thanks to my mexican heritage. Maybe it is the Lutheran kicking in?(#jokesonlyLutheranswillget).

Either way, when I first made it, Thanksgiving 2012, I was entering white people food territory. I had never had green bean casserole. I knew this was something white people did and since my white people in-laws had suggested it I took on the challenge. I also had to make everything Gluten Free since my husband doesn’t handle it well. It was a success! Next year I’ll share all my not-so-secret secrets.

This year I’ll leave you with one of the best white people creations since chow mein and burritos. I used Paula Deens recipe that I found on FoodNetwork.com. Only I used Progresso Gluten Free Cream of Mushroom, and instead of french fried onion rings I used Funyons(does not contain gluten ingredients but “may be processed in a facility…” or Trader Joes O’ rings. It was a hit and it was the first thing my daughter ate off her plate. I’m making a bigger batch this year because it’s that good. ENJOY!

Have a Happy Thanksgiving, friends!

A Mexican Horror Story: Easy Peasy Enchileasy

A few years ago, my husbands grandpa was in bad shape and in ICU. Things were not looking good and my father in law made his way here from Colorado.

This one day, well, it was just one of those days. Rough. I knew after the long day that everyone would be tired and hungry so I prepared enchiladas.

I decided that instead of a can of “enchilada” sauce I wanted my dish to have a nice fresh flavor so I opted for salsa. Everything smelled and looked great. I was so proud of myself. I couldn’t wait to see how it came out. But it didn’t hit me until I approached the table. I had never even tasted this dish. I always used the can of Las Palmas enchilada sauce and now I’m using salsa in place of enchilada sauce?!! What the hell was I thinking? The first time these people have had my cooking and I took a risk?  I was about to witness expressions of pleasure or disgust. As if all that torment weren’t enough, the people I so happily made a meal for with no worries, up until this point, were former restaurant owners. That’s right, these people made a business out of people enjoying their food and here I am with this basic stuff.

I can only imagine that what I am feeling may be the same feeling I will experience when I stand before Christ on judgement day.

My husband, I love him, but that man does not get any of my visual cues. We don’t mesh like that so I swear there must have been a little man who popped out my ear waving a white flag. At the exact moment my insides cried out to God, my dear husband assured me everything would be ok. As fast as those waves of emotion crashed into me they vanished as if I had just tossed Jonah overboard. Everyone loved it! I wondered why I had panicked so much as Uncle Tony reached for seconds. Whew! That was a close one.

I now have incorporated the enchilada sauce. To my surprise it’s even more delicious.
Easy Peasy Enchileasy
ENERGY LEVEL: 4
Serves:4-5
What you’ll need:

• 16 oz salsa of your choice
• Block of Monterrey Jack Cheese (Optional)
• Shredded Mexican Blend Cheese
• 10 oz can of Enchilada Sauce
• 10 corn tortillas
• 11×7 baking pan
• Pre-heat Oven 325°F

1. Mix or blend salsa and enchilada sauce. If you’re using a chunky salsa you may want to drain it first.

2. Add cheese and about 1-2 tablespoons of salsa/sauce to center of tortilla. If you’re using shredded cheese, add however much you like just make sure you have enough room to roll the tortilla over it.

If using a block of cheese like I did; I didn’t want the huge mess that I feel shredded cheese causes. I wanted a nice gooey chunk. I cut about an inch off the length of a 16 oz block of cheese.so they would fit in the tortilla perfectly. Then I cut it in to smaller sticks. I used 10 sticks and had leftover cheese. Which ended up being the perfect sized cheese for my toddler to snack on the following day.

3. Then do this.

4. Then do that. Pour the rest of the salsa/sauce evenly and add cheese on top.

5. Pop in the oven for 15-20 minutes until cheese is melted.

The hubs took a bite out of it before I could take a picture.

¡Ay, Los Frijoles!

Your votes are in! Thank you so much for your participation!

If you didn’t vote earlier this month don’t worry. You have officially redeemed yourself. You can now say that you did in fact vote this November.

To rate the simplicity of my recipes I will rate on a scale of 1-10 the amount of energy I recommend before you attempt this at home. This is of course assuming you’ve had at least 1 cup of coffee:

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¡Ay, Los Frijoles! Energy Level: 1

1. Rinse 2 lbs of Pinto Beans. I forgot to take a picture of that but if you don’t know what that looks like I drew a picture for you.

2. Rock out with your crock out. Add pinto beans and salt pork. I use Hormel Salt Pork. The whole thing.

3. Add 10 cups of water.

4. Turn on setting for 8 hours. Stir when you think, “¡Ay, Los Frijoles!”. And once more when that thought hits you again. (If you set it and leave your home, no worries, just add 1 more cup of water and don’t stress about not stirring.)

5. Rejoice!

Simple, right? This is the best, effortless side dish ever. You’ll likely have leftovers. Store it in the fridge and get ready to see what I do with our leftover beans. These beans go from side dish, to adding 1 additional ingredient for another beanie side dish, to a simple filling breakfast.

Beans, Beans, They’re good for your heart.

The delciousness is coming. 3 ingredients never tasted so good. 

Case In Point.

But the truth remains, you’re GONE!

And just like that…It’s taken me all day to finish 1 cup of coffee. Now, I’m sad and it’s too late to make more. I’ve expended all my energy into creating this blog this afternoon. Dunzo.

Coming up, I will have a recipe for beans. I’m deciding on a name for it. Either, “Lazy Mexican Beans” or “Ay, Los Frijoles!”

What do you think?

Lazy Wife, OUT!