Time to Celebrate!

We had a mini celebration in our house tonight! 

It was originally planned to celebrate Lydia passing her wheat challenge.

Plans had to change. She didn't pass the challenge, and we also found out about two new allergies to garlic and beef. Yes- beef, as in hamburgers and steak and chili and spaghetti sauce.

I was bummed. Really bummed. Party cancelled. But then the pity party cleared, and I realized we had plenty to celebrate. So- instead of wheat, we celebrated our amazingly blessed life. 

We celebrated living in America. I start each day knowing that I can provide my kids with clean sheets, clean water, healthy food, education, a home, and a whole bunch of other frivolousness that we often confuse with "needs". Lydia has nine different food allergies, and yet I still have an abundance of safe, healthy food to buy for her. 

Yep, lots to smile about!

She was wondering why we were staring at the cake instead of eating it. 

Wheat free, dairy free, nut free, soy free, artificial dye free,  and very, very yummy. Even ultra wheat-free critic mama thought it was good. Namaste chocolate cake mix- allergy friendly, not cheap. 

Prayers for our little girl are always welcome. Her allergies are getting worse, not better- and it can be very frustrating. Bill and I are constantly on alert to protect her. We skip eating out altogether unless we pack her meal separately. Movie theaters feel like death traps with all the peanut M &Ms and buttered popcorn. Meal planning is- well, a challenge. Most of her allergies cause severe rashes, but a few of them do try to kill her. Several weeks ago she took a sip of cow's milk from a cup that somehow made it past my paranoid, watchful eyes, and she reacted immediately. Hives popped up over her face and torso, and by the time I ran her up the steps to shower off her skin, her lips and tongue were swelling. We had to use her epi pens and call 911. Food allergies are no joke. I remind myself every time I start to drown in self pity that I am a child of the Almighty, and she's in His care. I trust Him implicitly.  I also think of the orphans in Haiti and Africa who would look at our life and think we live like royalty.  And that's just looking at material things. There's the story of the poor man who sat at the table with his bread and water, and gave thanks saying, "All this, AND Jesus?!"

What if I woke up tomorrow and all I had left was what I gave thanks for today?

Self pity, go away. Cake tastes way better.

How Not To Make Applesauce

Before I make a trip to the grocery store, I usually ask Brooke and Madeline what they would like me to buy. For my trip last week, Brooke asked me to buy applesauce. I remembered her request- while loading the SUV with groceries. Two days and no applesauce later, I got the bright idea to make her some at home. Why not? I had the apples; what else would I need?

I checked some recipes online, all relatively similar, and compiled my own version using the ingredients I already had at home. The kids were so excited to help, and I decided to take pictures for a future blog posting like this.

First step was to slice the apples, leaving the peel and core intact. Next, we squeezed a lemon and poured in the juice, and then sprinkled cinnamon on top.

The girls loved squeezing the lemon, and then all three of the kids spent the next hour licking and playing with the remaining lemon peel. (Yuck.)

The next step usually calls for apple juice, but all I had was Lydia's pear juice, so I assumed that would work just as well.

I brought the ingredients to a boil on the stovetop, then reduced the heat to simmer. I wish the computer had smellivision, because it was one of the best aromas in the world. Yummmm.

After simmering for about 20-25 minutes, the apples were ready to be mashed. I was supposed to push the apples through a mesh drainer, but after about 2 minutes of this, I realized I lacked the patience in this department, plus Lydia would be waking up from her nap at any second, so I did the next best thing (so I thought) and put them in the food processor.

It was at this precise moment that my camera shut off and blinked that the battey needed charging. So please use your imagination for the next paragraph.

After pulverizing the apples (skin, core, and all) for several minutes, I realized that the applesauce would not appear nor taste like the store-bought kind. I knew I would have to convince the kids that this really was yummy stuff. Madeline wouldn't even taste it. Isaac ate a few bites (he'll usually eat anything) but decided he didn't like it either. Brooke ate several spoonfuls, but I think she just didn't want to hurt my feelings, because when I told her she didn't have to eat it, she jumped up and ran from the table. I tasted it too, but I don't like applesauce so I'm not sure myself if it was good or not. The pear juice threw me off- just a little wierd.

By this point my camera battery charged enough that I could take a shot of the final product.

Please don't judge my culinary skills based on this dish alone. I promise my family doesn't starve from my cooking. If I had to do it over (not sure I will, but if I did) I would change these few things:

1. I would have the right ingredients on hand; for example, apple juice instead of pear.

2. I would add patience for the straining process.

3. I would not imagine my three precious children devouring the applesauce only to be jolted back to disappointing reality.

When all was said and done, the kids had fun playing with a used-up lemon, and I learned something new about cooking. I was even called a cool mom on facebook (thanks, Michele.) But in the end, I was left with crushed apples nobody wanted, and this:

Oh, and I got great suggestions from facebook on what to do with the leftover applesauce; too bad I read the tips about five minutes after dumping the sauce in the trash. Ah well, better luck next time.