I swore I would never be one of those moms that refers to her kid as any months over one year. I mean, what's the point? Why can't you say he turned one in September, rather than saying he's 13 months in October? Hmmm??

Well, I've failed. Because now all I want to do is tell you all about Michael's developments. Titling a post "One Year and One Month" isn't half as easy as "13 Months". Please forgive me.

Michael is a walking machine. Basically, he never wants to do ANYTHING but walk. Maybe crawl every now and then, but ride in his car seat? Or ride in his stoller? Forget it. He'd rather be walking. He also loves to take mama or dada by hand and lead them precisely where he wants to go. While he has excellent balance, he's still working on refining his steps.

He doesn't just want to walk, either, though. He wants to run. More specifically, he wants to run outside. He loves getting out there with his John Deere tractor and just going. Perhaps it's because the tractor has less resistance than his other walking toy does. It just GOES. I mean, it would roll down our sidewalk by itself if Michael let it. So, he loves to hold on and just go. It gives me slight heart attacks every time, because there are so many bumps in our sidewalk I have visions in my head of him just lurching forward. Needless to say I'm usually running right behind him with arms outstretched ready to prevent any harm I can. Luna, bless her, is always in front of him attempting to corral him. Sadly, it doesn't work very well. He finds ways around her.

Baby boy has suddenly become a picky eater. The only thing that he's guaranteed to eat is cheese and anything that involves it. For example, grilled cheese, cheese quesadillas, cheese slices, mini Babybel cheese, shredded cheese... I think you get my point. It doesn't matter what I offer him, he will not even consider it unless there's cheese involved. But, we are persevering! This cheese addiction does not keep me from attempting to offer him new and exciting things. Just today we tried a turkey wrap. I even put some American cheese on it to tempt him. Sadly, no luck. He decided Luna would enjoy it much more. He has, however, been approving of my fall recipes. I suppose that's because most of them involve sugar and spices like cinnamon.

Oh. One thing that Michael LOVES to eat (along with cheese, of course): peas. I offer him peas and carrots, he eats the peas. I offer him peas and grapes, he eats the peas. My silly boy loves the veggie that many abhor. I suppose that's a good thing!

Whenever he is fed something he actually enjoys, he shakes his head no at Luna when she comes begging. As in, "No, doggy, this food is MINE!" It's too funny.

Along with picky eating came his new-found attitude. While he's still an incredibly happy-go-lucky-laid-back-sort of fellow, he has moments where he decides that whatever you're doing is not what you're supposed to be doing. Take, for instance, this picture.
His pacifier had fallen into the wet grass, and he held it up making a sound that seemed to me like he was saying, "Um, excuse me, clean this off. I want it. NOW."

We're attempting to teach him "please" and "thank you" signs to make us feel like he has better manners. They would be much preferred to the sign, "More," which he knows now and uses for everything.

"More" swinging. "More" cheese. "More" time outside. "More" juice. "More" reading. "More" EVERYTHING!

While before it seemed Michael was perfectly aware when Clark was away and when he returned, he has been more apt to cling to Dada these days. As in, if Clark looks like he's getting ready to go anywhere, be it take out the trash, go to the bathroom, or actually go to work, Michael goes for his legs and will not let go no matter how hard we try to coax him away. It's positively adorable and heart breaking all at the same time. So, needless to say, whenever Dada is home, there's some serious father-son-loving going on.

As you can probably guess, we are still co-sleeping and BF. Clark declared he'd be OK with Michael sleeping with us until his next birthday, but I have a feeling we're going to try (again) to move him to his own space before then (hopefully). Right now his sleep schedule is so fickle that I've given up trying to get him in his crib. Maybe if he actually develops a semi-regular nap schedule, we'll go from there. Until then, though, I'm very content to have him share our space, and so thankful Clark is, too.

My photography skills (or, specifically, food photography skills) have been slacking lately. Perhaps it's because we've been eating so late ate night. Either way, please forgive me. But, I promise, this meal is delicious whether or not the pictures make it appear so!

I didn't used to understand the quick and easy dinners. I mean, yes, they came in handy when I had class all day, but even then I didn't mind taking my time to make a fabulous meal. Food is so worth it, right?

Well, now when I have Michael walking around all over the place, wanting to be read Llama Llama Red Pajama upteen times in a row, and plenty of other things on my plate-- I'd say quick and easy meals that come out delicious are SO worth it.

Therefore, I have a new love for my crockpot/slow-cooker. If you're someone like me, this recipe is for you!

Ingredients:

- 1 lb chicken
- 1 tsp to 1 tbsp rosemary (fresh or dried)
- 1 C low sodium chicken broth (or 1 C water with 1 tsp chicken bouillon)
- baby carrots (1/2 to 1 C)
- 1/3 to 1/2 C corn kernels
- 2 stalks celery, chopped
- 2 garlic cloves, chopped
- 1/2 white onion

For the dumplings:
- 1/4 C all purpose, unbleached flour
- 1/4 C corn meal
- 1/2 tsp baking powder
- 1/8 tsp salt
- 2 tbsp milk
- 1 egg white
- 1 tbsp canola oil

Directions:

- Put your chicken and veggies in the crockpot/ slow-cooker. Pour your chicken broth over it all and sprinkle your rosemary on top. Cover and cook on high for four to five hours, or low for at least five hours.
- Once the time is up, cut your chicken into pieces (whether in the pot or in a separate bowl).
*I basically shredded mine, but you can easily leave it in bigger pieces.

- To make the dumplings, mix everything together in a small bowl. Using a fork is easiest, because it helps the mixture really clump together.

- Use a medium cookie scoop (or about 1/4 cup) to make the dumplings (mixture will make four of this size). Put them on top of the chicken mix and cook, on high, for 20 to 25 minutes.


Serve warm and enjoy! I topped mine off with fresh cracked black pepper and it definitely added a nice touch. Perfect for cool autumn nights!



This recipe came from: Diabeticlivingonline.com.

Within all the madness that was going on (See This Means War, and This Means War pt. II to catch up), I had called my in-laws. Clark's father was in the Corps at this time, not to mention a somewhat high ranking officer. I called asking for help, and no one had been available.

Later I had an e-mail from Clark’s mother, one that made me out to be the one who was wrong. “The Marine Corps is different than the Army.” That’s one saying I will never stop hearing from those in the Marines. “We’re different.”

His mother had, in fact, spoken to Staff Sergeant and he had been “nothing but strawberry shortcake,” to quote her. This only added to my anger and battle attitude.

The night after talking to Clark and First Sergeant, I sat down and wrote two complaints: one against the Staff Sergeant, the other against the First Sergeant.

I pulled all the facts, used “military language” and was ready to fight it to the end. Luckily I had a father in the military, so he knew how the system worked. He told me exactly what to do, specific sayings to use, and to demand consequences be enforced. I felt like such a bad ass, excuse the saying. I was ready to show those men that the dependent could be just as tough as the one’s they were training. I was ready to show them that I was just as important as my husband, and they shouldn’t mess with me. Above all, they shouldn’t mess with women who know how the system works, because then they really get in to trouble.

After a lot of tweaking here and there from me, my mom, and my dad, I submitted my IG (Inspector General) complaint. I only submitted one for the two men, but since they overlapped it seemed necessary. I asked for two full written apologies. Though I never received them, I later found out that once that complaint went through- my husband was untouchable. He didn’t get in trouble, because they knew if they slipped again I would be there ready to burry them.

The next morning my phone rang at six o’clock. Not recognizing the number, I was slow to respond. It rang again, and I picked up.

“Good morning, beautiful.” I heard on the other line.

“Hi.” Give me a break, it was early.

“I’m calling you from Staff Sergeant's personal cell phone to let you know that we are at the post office over-nighting you the money. Staff Sergeant is being very generous letting me do this.”

“Oh, I bet he is.”

“Is there anything else you need?”

“No, sweety, nothing else.”

“Ok, Staff Sergeant wishes to speak with you. I love you,” he said it robotically so I didn’t respond. I waited, hoping that maybe, just maybe, I would hear him. “I love you,” he repeated softly.

“I love you, too, baby.”

“I’ll write you soon.”

Staff Sergeant got on the phone. He gave me some explanation as to why the money hadn’t been sent out last night and blah blah blah. He asked if there was anything else I needed, and I smiled. “No, sir, that seems to be it for now.”

“Very well. Please let us know when you receive the money.”

This was before my complaint was sent in. Before he knew who he was messing with, and still I sensed it: fear. He was in trouble for lying to his superior, telling him he had spoken to me. He was in trouble for relaying personal information to next-of-kin of the recruit: Clark’s mother. He was in trouble, and it was all because of me, and I was so proud. Even before the complaint was sent in, before all was right and justified, he was scared. It was an amazing feeling.

I do understand their protocol. After all, there are wives out there who would empty the husband's bank account and leave them. There are girlfriend's out there who would want access to that money, possibly for the same reasons. There arem mothers, families, friends and acquaintances who would take advantage of the fact that the person was at bootcamp and the money was there, completely fair game. It's sad that's how things are these days. What I was so upset about was that they were treating me like a common day criminal. It felt as though it should have been a judgement call, but I guess Staff Sergeant or First Sergeant would have fallen if I had turned out to be one of "those" people. Seems to me, though, they took a fall anyway.

Clark's letters improved after that. He seemed to understand what was going on where I was, and that he needed to be on my side, not their side. After all, he had to come home to me-- they were only in his life for a 13 week period. While they may be shaping his golden career, I still had to come first in his life. It was a hard lesson to learn, especially at the ripe age of 20, but we never did anything the easy way.

Hello! I'm Bethanyanne and I blog over at Post Graduation Studies. I am currently a full time 3rd grade teacher, a graduate student earning my degree in Curriculum and Math Education, and a wife. Since it can get a bit busy in my world, I'm forever looking for quick and easy recipes to make. Over the last year I have created and perfected this apple pie recipe. It takes so little time and it's my husband's favorite! I hope you like it!


Bethanyanne's Apple Pie


I love fall. I love every thing about fall, the colors, the smells, the crisp air in the morning. It’s the best season! Not to mention I married my wonderful husband in the fall.

Often times in the fall my taste buds can’t decide between pumpkin or apple. I can eat and drink anything pumpkin, but Matt, my husband, prefers apple. Over the last year I’ve managed to perfect my apple pie recipe so with out further adieu, here goes.

Ingredients:

2 pie crusts
1 cup sugar
3 tbs cinnamon
2 tsp cloves
2 tsp ginger
2 tsp nutmeg
3 large red apples
1 beaten egg


Directions:

1. In a gallon sized zip lock bag mix the sugar, cinnamon, cloves, ginger, and nutmeg.

2. Peal and slice the apples int small chunks. Toss the apples in the bag and shake. Completely cover the apple cubes with the sugar mix.


3. In a medium pie pan lay 1 pie crust to completely cover the bottom. Add apples and smooth out evenly.

4. Cut the other pie crust into strips. Lay over the top of the apples in a criss-cross pattern.

5. Brush a beaten egg over the top crust so it is able to brown better.

6. Bake at 350 degrees for 30-45 minutes until golden brown.

The apples will have a nice juice that run off and fills the pie. If your pie hasn’t browned after 45 minutes, turn the oven down to 300 and pop it back in.

This is one of my favorite pie recipes to bake since it is so easy! I’ve made it for parties, Thanksgiving, Christmas, summer bar-b-q’s. Since it’s Matt’s favorite I love making it for him. It also makes the house smell amazing!

So whether you’re going to a family holiday event or making this for your special sweetie, pick out these ingredients and ENJOY!

Last year (as you may recall from Dear Great Pumpkin,) we didn't get a pumpkin until Halloween day. It didn't much matter, since Michael was only almost two months old and had no sense of what we were doing. This year, however, we definitely wanted to make it a big deal. I can't even imagine what it will be like next year.

We visited a local farm to see the animals, go on a nature walk, and of course, get a pumpkin.











As you can see, we had an absolute blast. We ended up getting two pumpkins, one for us and one for Michael. There may be a third in the mix later on this month if we decide to carve one.

Have I mentioned I love Autumn? I think I might have. This outing just made me love it even more because Michael was happy thrilled ecstatic with our nature walk and pumpkin picking, no matter how simple. I can't wait to see how this goes when he gets older.

These pancakes have the stamp of approval from both my boys (and the dog... but she pretty much approves every recipe). Easy, healthy, and delicious-- these pancakes are perfect for Autumn mornings.

Ingredients:

- 2 eggs
- 1 C applesauce
- 1 C all purpose, unbleached flour
- 1 C whole wheat flour
- 1/4 C vegetable oil
- 3 tbsp sugar
- 2 tsp baking powder
- 1/2 tsp salt
- 1 tbsp cinnamon
- 1 1/4 C milk

Directions:

- Whisk together your eggs, apple sauce, and oil. Add the sugar.
- Mix in your dry ingredients (flours, baking powder, salt, and cinnamon).
- Mix in the milk.

- Spray your flat pan, and use about 1/4 C batter per pancake (or 1/3 if you want them bigger!)
- Cook each side until golden brown.

- Add syrup, butter, or whatever you desire, and enjoy!



Inspiration for this recipe came from: Better Than Burgers.

It was no surprise that I didn't hear back from anyone. After all, it took who knows how many calls before I finally got to Clark previously. Did I really expect them to get back to me?

This time I e-mailed the Staff Sergeant.. I asked him what had been going on, why I hadn't heard anything. I told him if I didn't get a response, I'd call up the chain of command.

Guess what? I got no response.

This time I talked to the First Sergeant of Clark’s company. When explaining the situation to First Sergeant, I asked for the access code and things like that to my husband’s account so I could transfer out the amount needed each month.

First Sergeant said that while they normally didn’t do that, he’s sure I would be an exception considering I was his wife and we were in school and all that good stuff. He said if I didn’t hear from anyone by noon the next day, to give him a call.

As always, the Marines didn’t seem to care. I called First Sergeant Lasonde at exactly noon the next day and he was not available. I left a message and waited. He called me back some time around three and said, “I hear we’ve made some progress!”

“I beg your pardon?” I asked.

“Staff Sergeant told me he spoke to you as well as your mother-in-law about the situation.”

I went quiet for a second, feeling the red monster of anger ready to roar. “I never spoke to Staff Sergeant. I cannot say for my mother-in-law, but he has not spoken to me.”

“Really? Huh. Well, we cannot give you the information.”

“And why not?” I asked, holding back tears and getting ready to shout.

“Because it is not protocol,” he said as if that settled the matter, “we cannot make exceptions.”

“But Staff Sergeant e-mailed me and told me Clark would e-mail me the information, and you yourself said that I would most likely be an exception.”

“It’s not protocol,” he said again.

“Fine. Do you have the number of your company commander? I’d like to speak to him.”

“Sweetheart, you can talk to who ever you please. Do you want my name? Make sure you spell it right when you speak to him.”

“Yes, that would be wonderful.” I smirked as if he could see me.

“It’s First Sergeant (he spelled his name out for me here). You got that, honey?”

“Oh, don’t worry, I have it. Now, that number, please.”

The conversation commenced until I broke down and cried. I called my mom, well aware that it was nearly ten her time at this point (my parents were stationed in Germany). I told her what was going on and asked if Dad could call, but dad was in the hospital visiting people. My mom asked for the numbers and said she’d take care of it.

I paced our bedroom back and forth, wondering what on earth was happening. After some time, she called me back. “You should be receiving $1000,” she said as if she had fixed it.

Our conversation reviewed what had been said to me, whereupon she said, “I wish I would have known that when I called him. I would have said much more than I did.”

While I was on the phone with my mom my other line beeped and it said, “Restricted”, which meant someone from Parris Island. I told my mom I had to go, and that I’d call her tomorrow. I transferred over to the other line with the prissiest tone I could conjure. “Hello.” I said as a statement, not a question.

“Hey.” I didn’t have to be told who it was- I started crying.

“Wait, calm down, we have to talk. What’s going on?”

I spilled, but as I did Clark continuously would interrupt me with the b.s. that he had been fed. “Staff Sergeant has done nothing but go out of his way for us,” “How was First Sergeant disrespectful? He’s been nothing but kind.”

I kept asking him who was in the room with him, and while he would respond “no one,” I later found out that all of them were standing outside the door of the office- listening in.

Although the conversation ended somewhat happy and I got a couple “I love yous”… it just wasn’t the same. Something sounded different in his vice, in his tone, I was utterly convinced that he had changed for the worse.

I thought he was turning in to one of “them”. “Them” defined as the men like First Sergeant and Staff Sergeant who had no respect for their recruits or their dependents. Those men that were obsessed with order and control, so much that it overrode their sense of individualism and family.

I know now that not all Marines are like this, obviously. You will find men like this in every branch of the military, as well as men who are not in the military. Still, the way things were happening, it made me afraid for Clark to come home. Don't get me wrong, I wanted nothing more than for him to be home, but I was afraid of who he might be when he returned. He already sounded different to me, what was he going to be like in another month? Two months? I was worried.

That night I got on my knees and prayed. I needed to calm down, and it was the only way I knew how.

I knew there were still things to be done, to take care of. After all, Staff Sergeant had lied to his superiors as well as contacted Clark's parents instead of me. He had no right to do either, and he wasn't about to get off the hook that easy. I had been told things that weren't true, talked to condescendingly, and laughed at. I wasn't about to take all that lying down.

Even so, I prayed. I prayed for strength, for guidance, and most of all, I prayed for Clark. I prayed he'd come home to me, and while I was sure there would be some changes, I prayed deep down he'd be the same man I fell in love with.