Heavenly Homemakers

Encouraging women in homemaking, healthy eating and parenting

Wiggam’s Birth Story (Baby Kitties!)

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This is the post where I pretend to know everything that happened last night in regard to our mama cat, Wiggams. If she were to share her birth story, I’m sure it would be almost identical to the words I will write to share with you.

This, from the one who knows nothing about cats and didn’t even want a cat or any kind of pet until late July when Wiggams showed up and took over our porch. What can I say? She’s a sweet cat. And she eats bunnies. Love her.

wiggams coffee 3

Well, said sweet cat had been getting wider by the day (and not from eating bunnies). All day Thursday I felt she was moving slowly and sluggishly. Basically it reminded me of how I felt right before giving birth. Obviously, I could relate to Wiggams since cats and humans are almost exactly the same with so few differences. Hmmm, I wondered. Baby time?? We gave her some extra love and re-washed the towels we’d put in a box for her.

Around 5pm, I heard her meowing loudly right outside my office window. I didn’t realize she could see me through the window and screen from the porch, but as I looked over from my office chair, not only did she look me right in the eyes through the window, she meowed again loudly as if to say, “What is going on? I don’t feel right. Someone needs to do something!”

I gave her a look of, “Ohh, Wiggams. I have to get some work done. This is the first I’ve sat at my desk all day long. Go take a sip of water.” (Inside joke. That is always my go-to instruction to anyone with a need, “Go take a sip of water.” It is my be-all-and-end-all. It solves everything.)

Wiggams was less than okay that I didn’t move to get up. She responded by meowing again and slamming her front paws onto my office window screen, looking at me with wild eyes. “Get out here, NOW!” she screamed. I promise. I’m not making this up.

I left my chair and went outside. She meowed and rubbed up against my leg, then tried to crawl up my leg, then meowed loudly again. All the while, I was gently rubbing her back. She got sad anytime I stopped rubbing, so I kept rubbing. Dude, I never wanted anyone to touch my back when I was in labor. Maybe cats are different from humans after all.

Suddenly she bristled, which I took to mean, get your hand off my back. Okay then. You’re done with the rubbing. I get it. Don’t touch the back.

I ran back into the house and up to the dryer to get the clean towels, ran back outside and put them into Wiggams’ box, then walked Wiggams to the box. I put the box in a little cubby under our porch and told her, “Hey, if in fact you’re getting ready to have those kitties, this is the perfect spot. Clean towels, cozy environment…and conveniently we’ll know where to find you and the babes.” Yes, I really did say all of those words. I was certain she understood. Just call me Dr. Doolittle.

She was done with me at this point, so I went back to work in the house. I told Matt and the boys about Wiggams’ weird behavior and said that I wouldn’t be surprised if we had baby kitties the next morning.

To Be Continued

Just kidding. That’s just mean.

The next morning, I was getting ready to head to Lincoln again for a follow-up doctor appointment for our sick boy. At ten minutes before departure time, I heard a knock at the door. There stood our next-door neighbor, cautiously (so that the boys wouldn’t hear or see) letting me know that he’d found a baby kitten on a cement pad on his property. It hadn’t survived. What would he like me to do? He didn’t want our boys to be upset.

Side note: This neighbor has been so kind to Wiggams ever since she showed up here. He is the first to get to pick a kitten (we had already arranged this), especially after all his extra kindness today.

Knowing that Wiggams and (hopefully) more baby kitties were somewhere out there, several of us bundled up and searched all over our property and our neighbor’s.

Suffice it to say that I am not the Cat Whisperer that I claimed to be the night before. Wiggams certainly hadn’t taken me up on the box with towels plan. Or any of the other logical suggestions I’d made for potential birthing centers.

I had to stop my search to head out of town for the doctor appointment. We all figured Wiggams would come out of hiding when she was hungry. The day commenced.

Early this afternoon, Matt texted me this:

baby kitties

Kittens!

Our neighbor had finally found them. They were (of all places) in a trashcan full of sticks and debris on our neighbor’s property. I couldn’t get home fast enough. Sweet, sweet, baby kitties!

As far as we can tell at this point, there were four kittens total. Two did not survive. Two are safe and snug…with their mama in a pile of sticks in a trash can.

I have to continue to remind myself that cats have had babies for thousands of years without my help and that Wiggams is fine. I have asked her several times if she needs anything. After all, after I had my babies I needed people to bring me food and slippers. I just did. Right now, she’s pretty much like – Back off. I’ll see you in a few days.

She found her way to our porch this afternoon and ate an enormous amount of food. This was comforting to all of us.

I look forward to sharing more with you as I learn more. I’m sure that once Wiggams is up for it, she will give me all the details. In the meantime, we’re coming up with names for the two kittens.

The little gray/black one is Neymar (named after Neymar da Silva Santos Junior, a professional Brazilian soccer player). We’re considering Lionel for the little ginger-colored kitten (after Lionel Messi, pro Argentine soccer player). By the way, some pro soccer players we love really don’t have good cat names. Not criticizing. Just saying. Also, it’s possible we all take kitten naming way too seriously.

Stay tuned for more of the cat drama at our house. As Asa (our college freshman) said as I texted him throughout the day with updates, “I feel like there’s an episode of Curious George going on at our house today.” Yes. That describes this day perfectly. I may have to get myself a tall yellow hat.

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A Cat Update. I Don’t Even Know How To Say This.

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Several of you warned us. Many of you suggested that we do it sooner rather than later. But truly we don’t know what we’re doing here, and we didn’t know that sooner really meant, “No really. Soooooooner!” Like several weeks ago sooner.

eheh

Don’t mind me. I’m going to ramble on for a bit. I’m simply avoiding the issue. I’m hanging my head and peeking up at you sheepishly. I can’t quite come right out and say it. I’m trying. Really.

So it went something like this:

Malachi and I were outside together a few days ago. Wiggams walked up as she usually does, ready for a little snuggle. Suddenly, I gasped in shock. Malachi looked at me like I was crazy. In a weird little high pitched voice I said, “Wiggams. Whoa. Wiggams! Say it isn’t so. Wiggams, what in the world??” Malachi was like, “What, Mom? What?”

I told Malachi my suspicions. We asked Wiggams to spill it. “Out with it, Wiggams! Is it true? Is it??” Wiggams just purred and rubbed up against my leg. For a woman, she sure doesn’t add much to conversation around here.

I was in denial for the rest of the day. (I still can’t say the words.)

We showed her to Matt when he got home. We all circled around her, eyeing her with scrutiny. Together we decided resolutely that Wiggams had simply eaten an entire rabbit (family). Indeed. That had to be it. There was no other possible explanation for her widening belly.

Asa and Brittany came by later that evening. We told them our suspicions and asked Brittany what she knew about cats. She knew significantly more than we, and also she might be a little bit better at living in reality. She looked Wiggams over thoroughly, and said something like, “Well, your suspicions were correct. She did not eat a rabbit.”

So my friends. I guess it’s time to officially announce that Malachi is going to be a grandpa.

apples wiggams and malachi

I’m just. I can’t. It’s so…

eheh.

I can’t help but think that Bob Barker would be so disappointed in us. (If you’re in the Drew Carey generation, this makes no sense. Unless he says it too. I haven’t watched the show in a while. Does he say it too? Again, I’m rambling.)

My research tells me that 1-8 kittens should arrive….umm perhaps as soon as within the next couple of weeks?? (Apparently by the time a cat begins to widen in the middle there are only a couple weeks left. Help me out here, cat lovers. I only know about human babies.)

But speaking of cat lovers, so what if I am one now? Maybe I recovered from my shock and got really excited about seeing baby kitties on our place soon. Maybe I even sometimes let Wiggams crawl up on my lap while I’m having a cup of coffee in the sunshine.

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Maybe I even make weirdo cutesy cat faces at her.

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Thank you, Grandpa Malachi, for documenting my weird cat lady faces.

As soon as there is kitten news to share, you’ll be the first (few thousand) to know. We’ve already promised one kitten to our neighbor. Any other takers? And yes, Bob, Drew, and everyone else who told me to do this sooner rather than later – after the kittens are born and have been enjoyed, weaned, and shared – we will really and for real get Wiggams fixed.

eheh

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Gratituesday: My BFF Jen Hatmaker

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Did you know? Jen Hatmaker is my BFF. So what if we’ve never actually met?

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This message brought to you by a refreshed and relaxed me who just returned home from…wait for it…a girl weekend.

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I know. A little get-away like this doesn’t seem like much. But remember who I live with. I love all of my many male people so, so much. But this weekend I got to go to where there were all women, all the time. For 26 hours.

Here’s part my private Facebook thread conversation with friends before leaving Friday:

Tonya: What are you guys wearing tonight/tomorrow?

Emily: Jeans, tennis shoes…

Me: Capris and comfy flip flops. Debating on a bra. #girlweekend

Of course I was serious. So off we went to the Women of Faith conference. (Fully clothed, with all appropriate underthings in place.) The closer we got, the more excited we got.

Now I’ve got to tell you something before going any farther. I am not one to be star struck. Our family has been to Newsboys concerts in which Michael Tate was close enough that we could reach out and stroke his hair (which we did not do). All my guys were like, “Dude, that is Michael Tate!!” and I’m all chill with, “Now which one is he again?” We’ve been to a Toby Mac concert where we were sitting so close that the sweat from his brow could have sprayed our cheeks. We rocked out with Lecrae and loved it. But hey. These are just regular (very famous) people. No need to get all silly about it.

But…Jen Hatmaker

All that went out the window though, because this weekend, here’s what I discovered. Sometimes you just need to get silly. Need I remind you of the lack of male people in the arena this weekend? Not to mention my complete lack of any responsibility or need for thinking, answering questions, or any other such mothering or wifing on my agenda for 26 hours. This brought out my silly. I’m not even ashamed about how totally age 12 I was acting half the time. For real – laughter is so good for the soul, as is quality time with girl people who speak my language.

So guess what? My favorite author and best friend, Jen Hatmaker, was going to be speaking at the conference. If you do not read every word that she writes, I encourage you to change that immediately. I adore her writing style, but mostly her heart for Jesus and people. I’d never heard her speak before (which is so odd seeing as we are best friends and all.) While I was looking forward to many things about the weekend, I was really looking forward to seeing and hearing Jen. (I dropped the last name here because we are on a first name basis, obviously.)

Here’s where I started to get silly. I mean, I already was silly, because #girlweekend. But as my friends and I were talking more and the conference was about to start, our hashtag turned from #girlweekend into #mybestfriendjenhatmaker (because my friends claim her too).

When we first saw her come out to be introduced with the rest of the speakers, I got so excited I actually jumped up and down and pointed (see age 12 behavior admission above). This is when I knew, whoa, I cannot even believe how excited I am that she is here. I now want to turn into a weirdy weirdo about this. I just love her so much.

At this point, since she was so closely in front of me, I decided I’d best try to get a picture. It was either that or holler her name, jump over eight people, and grab her into a big bear hug so we could start catching up on the past 40-whatever years we’ve missed out on together. I totally could have done it (like a weirdy weirdo), but I settled for a picture. (You’re welcome, Jen.)

Allow me to now present to you, the Jen Is About To Be Introduced and I’m Seeing Her For the First Time Scrapbook. What? The only reason I took so many shots was because I hoped to get at least one good one (which I did not). It’s okay though. I don’t need no stinking picture. To be star struck is sooo silly.

Here is #mybestfriendjenhatmaker standing beside another conference speaker when she first came out from back stage and stood eight people in front of me:

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Here’s another of her smiling and talking to that same other conference speaker. Told you I didn’t get any good pictures. Being a groupie is not my gift.

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Here’s another in which she continues to talk expressively with her hands. Isn’t that so endearing? Yes. It is very endearing.

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Jen, pointing to the left.

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Jen linking arms with other speakers while the lights went down.

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Jen sitting in the chair farthest left by the stage where she would later impart wisdom and humor and blessing.

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The evening continued with worship, fun, and speakers. And also #mybestfriendjenhatmaker was there.

By the end of Friday night, I was at a high point of silly and decided to just go with it because it was #girlweekend and I was having so much fun. This is why, as my friends and I were leaving the conference arena and we walked by the very chair where #mybestfriendjenhatmaker had been sitting, I was all, “Ooh, there’s her chair, I’m going to touch it!” One thing led to another and well, I have no idea how I ended up sitting there, but would you just look at that?

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There’s me. In the very chair #mybestfriendjenhatmaker had been sitting on.

Well anyway. I had a super fun weekend. It was a blessing to see #mybestfriendjenhatmaker and hear her heart on stage. If you haven’t already, go right away and read her new book, For the Love.

Now I am back home and no longer acting like I’m 12, nor am I speaking girl language because of all of the obvious male household mothering and wifing reasons. (Spell check does not like the word wifing. I think it is a brilliant word, so you just need to get over it, spell check. What makes you think you are the spelling authority? My brilliant words trump your red squiggles of dismay.)

While I found the Women of Faith conference to be less meaty overall compared to last year, I still feel filled up because I had so much stinkin’ fun. I have not let my guard down and laughed so hard in months.

Also, I really recognized the value of enjoying friendships this weekend. While I’d love to have a sit down with #mybffjenhatmaker sometime because I appreciate her Spirit-filled life and work – lemme just tell you how blessed I am with the women right here in my life, right here on my porch, right here in this very place.

I am loved by many. I have many to love. Life is fun and full and rich.

May we live life entirely. May we see people through the eyes of Jesus. May we love and be loved, bless and be blessed.

And every few months, may we all have the chance to act the part of a silly 12 year old, laughing for hours until we almost pee (because you are – in real life – much older than 12 and your bladder does not agree with your choice to revert to that time of life).

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Would You Like an Update on the Cat?

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Read the one about our garden and our cat, at which time I wasn’t sure we really had a cat. And now an update:

Actually, how about I just show you what happened last Sunday after Matt fed the cat some milk on Friday night, and then I fed the cat some chicken and tuna from our fridge on Saturday morning…

cat food 1

Who is that lady and why is she holding that? 

You know what they say about feeding stray cats and how they don’t leave your property once they’re fed? That is indeed a fact. I would add to that fact that not only does the cat stay on the property but within five minutes of consuming the first meal, said cat becomes convinced that your property is not your property at all but her property. Napping in the sunshine on the porch (which now obviously belongs to the cat, and here you thought it was yours all this time) becomes the cat’s favorite thing to do (aside from eating, of course), because even though you pay the mortgage, you certainly only do it so that the cat can have a porch.

So anyway, the bag of food. After one and a half days, I stopped liking the idea of spending a lot of money per pound on organic, free range chicken and humanely caught tuna only to serve it to a cat (who is supposed to be taking care of our bunny issues). I am so, so nice…but I’m just not that nice. This means that Malachi and I found ourselves on a walk to the dollar store Sunday to see what we could find in the way of decent cat food at a decent price. All the way there, Malachi chatted on and on about Wiggams (owner of our porch) and how excited he was to finally have a pet and please don’t ask any more neighbors about her because we don’t want any of them to actually recognize and take the cat away because that would just be so sad.

cat food 2

Would you look at that.
There is a 10-year old photo bomber with a crazy face.
I have no idea where he gets his personality.

Two things about this cat food, as shown in the above picture. First, it comes from “Local Family Farms” which is an obvious good choice because the word “local” always means good and wholesome things, right? Never mind the ingredient list the size of my hand. I just can’t go there with cat food. I’ll pretend the word “local” here doesn’t actually mean “some faraway factory you’ve never heard of.”

Second, you wouldn’t believe how amazed Wiggams was when she saw that the food was in the shape of tiny fish and miniature chicken legs. This is the only reason she ate the food. In fact, Wiggams was so thrilled that she snapped a selfie with the food and posted it to both Instagram and Pinterest in hopes of this novel idea going viral. The shape of a cat’s food matters more than anything, perhaps even more than owning a porch.

Our three older boys were able to meet Wiggams on Saturday when they came home from camp. All combined, they had about four words to say about her, most of which included “hmm” and “well.” I think that means they like her.

So welcome to the family, Wiggams. We think you’re pretty neat. If it’s okay with you, sometimes we will walk across your porch to get to your van (the shady spot underneath appears to be her second favorite spot) when we need to go somewhere. Thank you for understanding.

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About Our Garden and Our Cat. Wait. We Have a Cat?

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Did I just say our cat?

I don’t even know where to start.

Mostly I want to tell you about our garden, but what I have to share isn’t terribly exciting because most of our garden produce isn’t ready yet. (Yes I know it’s almost August. It’s a Nebraska thing. It’s also a Coppinger thing as we got our garden planted a little bit late this year. We blame this on the Nebraska thing.) So just pretend to be interested when I say, oh look – it’s a picture of green tomatoes that aren’t ready to eat yet.

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We do have a single yellow squash that appears to be an over-achiever. It got nice and big while we were away at camp, and while we wish it wasn’t so big and stringy, it will taste nice sliced and grilled along with some barbecue chicken. Otherwise though, there are no more squash ready.

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As you can hopefully see below, we have two tiny zucchini which will be ready soon. All the squash plants are full of flowers, so in a couple weeks I’ll be begging you to come take some off my hands. At the very least, you should share your favorite squash recipes with me.

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While we are lacking in abundant produce from our garden so far this year, there is one thing we are not lacking:

Bunnies.

I am here to tell you that bunnies are not cute. Bunnies are naughty. Like wag your finger and tsk like your great aunt naughty. Would you look at this?

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What is that in the picture, pray tell? That is a nothing. It was a green bean plant. But now it is a nothing. We have two whole rows of nothings. That is because all the bunnies (every single one of them in the whole wide neighborhood) held a meeting to announce that the Coppinger fam was doing this thing called church camp which means that they were not around to say “scat bunny!” for 14 whole days. They decided to get their party on. In our garden. Within our rows of green beans. Naughty, naughty, naughty.

We have about 1.5 green bean plants that just might survive, which of course will feed our family of six for two bites each. This leads me to tell about our cat.

I can’t believe any of what I am about to write, mostly because we don’t have a cat, nor do we want a cat, nor do we want any pet at all because do I or do I not have enough mouths to feed said the mother of many, many teenage boys.

So this cat. It showed up in our yard over the weekend all hungry and meowy and stuff. Before I knew it, my husband – my husband – was outside giving it some milk. Wha??? We know better than to feed stray cats, do we not? I think we do. “Why are you doing that?” asked the mother of many, many teenage boys.

He was doing it because he was mad at the bunnies.

Oh, well in that case.

Wait. Wha???

No, but really. Matt explained to me (and I’m assuming he’s done hours of research on this) that bunnies do not like cats. Having a cat around might make the bunnies run the other way.

Being quite mad at the bunnies myself, I suddenly joined my husband in liking and wanting the cat.

Seriously, who is writing this? Like, want, cat, same sentence – I don’t even know who I am anymore. But I weighed the benefits. Bunnies eating all my bean plants or a cat rubbing its back against my porch rail? It’s a no brainer.

By the next morning, our ten year old had named the cat Wiggams (or Wigs for short) (or Wiggie if it’s being especially cute). He asked for string to play with it, and made it a home out of a cardboard box (because cats love this).

Then somebody else – who shall remain nameless – found herself scooping some pieces of chicken and tuna from the fridge onto a little plastic lid to put into the cat’s house, calling “here Wiggams” while doing so, because poor little Wiggie looked hungry and oh my goodness what in the world and who even am I??

So are you missing this cat? If so, call 555-BUNNIESARENAUGHTY. Trust that your cat is well fed but now answers to the name Wiggams. If you take the cat, you have to also take all of the bunnies.

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I learned that if you say “look at the camera” to a cat, the cat will not respond accordingly. It’s like he doesn’t even appreciate the tuna. Dude. Wiggams. Just look up for a second.

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Okay, then.

I suppose this story is “to be continued.” Stay tuned to hear more about garden produce and a camera shy cat named Wiggams. But not about fresh green beans -because bunnies are naughty.

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What is Up With That Toilet?

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If you recall, our family is remodeling a bathroom. I thought you might like an update on the progress of this project.

First the bathroom looked like this. What you don’t see (or smell) in this picture is that the bathtub leaked and had nasty orange stains. The sink faucet never stopped dripping. The toilet never flushed efficiently. And the smell of pee never went away no matter how hard I scrubbed. You might have enjoyed this post more had I not shared that last part.

bathroom 1

Matt gutted the bathroom, and pulled out all the lath and plaster. My house has never been dustier, but at least I have an excuse.

bathroom 2

Matt got the new shower in place. It is beautiful. We used it the weekend we had a houseful of teenage boys staying with us. Then Matt took off the shower door so he could get around the room more easily to put up dry wall.

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All the dry wall is up now – on the walls and on the ceiling. The mudding has begun. The new light fixture is in place.

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Matt has begun putting down the sub floor before laying tile. The old toilet has been removed.

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Which leads me to my morning God time today. (Seriously. It leads me there. Why would you question this?)

There I sat at the kitchen table, my Bible in front of me. This is the time each morning I relish in all that is good. I marvel at the quiet. I drink in the Truth. I find refreshment. I prepare for a day of service to those around me.

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I took a deep breath and gazed out the window at the birds that are starting to come back, a promise of spring coming to our frozen piece of the world. And that’s when it caught my eye.

bathroom 5 (2)

Wait, you don’t see it? Look a little closer…

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Here, let me just step out my kitchen door with you to the cement slab between my house and the garden.

toilet porch 2

And there you have it. Our old, stained bathtub. Our leaky sink. And the latest addition: an old toilet. It’s all right there, right outside my kitchen window. They weigh a million pounds, plus it is freezing cold outside. So there they sit. Finishing the inside of the new bathroom is higher priority right now than disposing of these goodies. And really, I won’t press the issue because who doesn’t want to gaze out during her morning Bible time to look at scenery like that?

I’m actually thinking of pouring in some soil and making them into planters this spring. Can you imagine anything more Pinterest worthy?

Huge hugs go to my hubby who had to pause our downstairs bathroom remodel yesterday so that he could spend an entire day fixing the sink in our upstairs bathroom. Such is life, eh?

Well, I guess this just about wraps up the post that has no point nor does it offer you any form of heavenly homemaking encouragement. I would end by saying, “Everytime you sit on your toilet today, think of me” – but that’s just weird. Perhaps you could tell me what you see when you look out your kitchen window?

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The Recipe That Didn’t Make the Cut – and What I Did With It

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With all the recipe experimenting and inventing that goes on at our house (especially recently as we’ve been working on our new Healthy Snacks eBook), you can be certain that we have some fails and flops from time to time. Sometimes a recipe idea turns out tasty but ugly, sometimes a recipe is not tasty in the least, and sometimes it’s both not tasty and it’s ugly. Bless its pitiful little heart.

A few weeks ago I was excited to try out a recipe for Cinnamon Quick Bread. Sounds good, right? My men thought so. It looked like a recipe I could adapt easily to make with healthier, real food ingredients. But I ended up cutting the sugar down too low, and I didn’t adapt the baking soda amount, and I’m not sure what else I should have done differently – but not even Matt (who eats anything) could make himself choke it down. It tasted like bread full of baking soda. Can you say bitter? Bleh. (It was almost like the time I was at someone else’s house and I used salt instead of sugar while making cookies. Wow, wow, wow.)

Now silly me. I know better than to double a recipe experiment. But indeed, I thought for sure this Cinnamon Quick Bread experiment would turn out fine. So double it I did. Brilliant.  Not only did I come away with one bitter loaf of quick bread – I came away with four. {shudder}

Like I normally do with “leftovers,” I put the bread into the freezer. I’m not sure why I did this, because dare I remind you of the nastiness? It’s just hard to throw away food and hard work. Maybe I thought the freezer would settle down the bitterness and bring out the sweetness – as if my freezer has a magic wand. Hey, I figure if lasagna and spaghetti can taste better the next day, surely bitter bread can find a way to taste good. I realize none of this makes sense.

Several weeks after baking and freezing the pitiful bread, I cleaned out my freezers. Wouldn’t you know it? Shoved in the back I found a bag with two of these delightfully gross loaves of bread. It had been in there too long, so not only was it likely to still be bitter, it was also freezer burned and crumbly. I’m telling you, I really nailed this one.

I walked to the trash can. “Just do it,” I said to myself. I could bury it under the other trash. No one would ever know.

Ugh, I just couldn’t do it. I decided that my family had by now forgotten how terrible the bread had tasted, so they wouldn’t be afraid to try it in a “re-purposed” breakfast. Maybe? Hopefully?

Guess what? Nasty, bitter, crumbly quick bread – when soaked in egg and milk and cooked in butter on a griddle – makes a wonderful (yet more than slightly messy) French Toast breakfast. Without blinking, my family ate both loaves of this interesting looking French Toast. Butter and real maple syrup make anything better, right? Well, at least in this case it worked.

cinnamon french toast mess

I’m sure your life is enriched by hearing that inspiring story. I have no recipe to share this time (for obvious reasons, you’re welcome). I can’t even give advice based on my bad experience. But if at all possible, I do encourage you to try to make use of a recipe flop. There really is likely a good way to use up the food so you don’t have to throw it away.

But one more thing:  Never stir 2 cups of salt into your cookie dough. Paula Deen herself wouldn’t be able to figure out a way to repurpose that one.

Have a “recipe gone wrong” story to share with us? Do tell. :)

Here are all the recipes that DID make the cut! Get our 227 Healthy Snacks eBook while the price is still cut in half!

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Something Is Wrong With This Picture

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I wash dishes like this so often, I forget how it must look to a guest hanging out in my kitchen.

crazy gloves

What? It’s the best way to do dishes.

Two left handed gloves, one on each hand, two different colors. Sometimes, on a day I feel wild and crazy, I’ll switch the gloves around, putting the blue one on my right hand and the purple one on my left. Y’all, doing dishes is never boring at my house – I’ll tell you that right now.

You know what’s great about this post, and the picture, and all that seems rather pointless?  I actually do have a point.  Two points actually:

1. Never worry about what people think about you when you’re washing dishes. Two lefthanded gloves of different colors worn at the same time? Why, we can establish a new dishwashing trend.

2. If you use rubber gloves to wash dishes and one of the gloves gets a hole in it, save the glove that doesn’t have a hole. Eventually, you can use it with another glove that has lost its mate. You’ll save a lot of money doing this. And I believe we’ve already established how cool you will look…not that we care what other people think.

In practicing this, sometimes my mismatched gloves end up being the same color. Sometimes I actually end up with a left-handed and a right-handed pair of misfits. But more often than not, I end up with two left-handed gloves of different colors. It matters not. They still work just fine.

And that, my friends, is my very helpful, money-saving homemaking tip for you today.

P.S. This money-saving method does not apply to shoes or contact lenses.

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101 Pre-School Projects – Free Download!

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It’s warm, it’s cold, it’s windy, it’s raining, it’s cloudy…yes indeed:  It’s March.

I’ve had fun this week pulling out some project ideas that have been buried throughout my website. Did you make some Homemade Bubble Bath? That’s a super simple idea your kids can have fun making with you.

In an effort to shed some sunshine upon all of us struggling with a touch of spring fever, I opened up a freebie I had put together a few years ago, tweaked a few things, and redesigned the cover to make it available to you again. If you and your kids are going stir-crazy, I believe you’ll find an activity or twelve to do together in this free eBook.

Yep, there are over 100 ideas, recipes, games, and activities for you to read through and pick from. Kids older than pre-school age are sure to have fun with these ideas too. These ideas came from moms and grandmothers – all Heavenly Homemaker Readers. All of you are so creative, which is what makes this eBook so much fun!

You’ll be able to use this eBook year round, as it has fun ideas for outdoors too. Help yourself to this fun, free eBook. Spread the word to your friends so that they can come get their free eBook too! Together, we will survive this crazy weather!

101 Preschool Projects Free Download

Grab this FREE 101 Pre-School Projects book here!

I’m excited to share that signing up for these freebies will connect you to our new Heavenly Homemaker’s Learning Zone. It’s free, of course. You can unsubscribe at any time, your info will never be shared or sold, and being on this list means that you’ll be the first to know of the other fun (yes, FUN!) educational tools we’re putting together!

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The Tale of the Huge Turkey

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I decided this year to order the biggest bird I could find. It made sense. The local farmer I was purchasing from offered all free-range turkeys over 18 pounds at a flat rate. I told him I would take one of their biggest, and on delivery day, the hugest turkey I’d ever seen showed up on our porch.

This week, in preparation for our big Thanksgiving feast, I thawed Mr. Turkey so that I could get him baked and deboned. (Here’s my easy method for preparing the turkey ahead of time and re-warming it on Thanksgiving day.)  All was well until I got out my big roasting pan.

huge turkey 1

Uh-huh. I could actually hear the turkey laughing out loud at the very idea of me trying to bake him in what now appeared to be a very tiny pan.

No problem, I thought. I’ll just get out my large roaster oven. Surely that would be plenty big enough.

huge turkey 2

At least the turkey fit inside. But no way, no how was that lid going on. And a lidless roasting pan would not bake a turkey. Okay then. Plan C?

Hmmm, Plan C. Plan C. I had not foreseen the need for a Plan C. As I stared at the huge bird (who by now was rolling his eyes, shrugging his wings, and getting bored with the entire situation), I racked my brain for options. Go to the store and fork out money for….yeah right. Just a few days before the holiday? What would my store even carry that would be big enough to bake this bird?

It occurred to me that maybe I could bake the turkey directly on the oven rack, with a pan underneath to catch the drippings. I immediately recognized that this was a silly idea since I didn’t have a pan large enough in the first place, so all the drippings couldn’t be caught. I could just envision a dried out turkey with lots of drippings crusted all over the bottom of my oven. Not to mention the fact that when drippings drip in a hot oven, the coils can catch fire, smoke can fill a kitchen, smoke alarms can scream for way too long, houses can smell horrible, and Thanksgiving dinners can be ruined.

You realize all these thoughts went through my head in a time span of about 45 seconds? Nonetheless, I was practically waving a tea towel in front of the smoke alarm just picturing the entire scene.

I moved on to Plan Q – which involved texting a friend. I remembered that she had mentioned that she had an extra large aluminum pan at her house. I don’t love baking in aluminum, and I doubted that such a pan existed that would fit my gigantic-sized turkey, but I figured it was worth a shot. Within an hour, my friend arrived with two roasting pan options. One pan was tiny – as in, it was made for normal sized turkeys. But the other one? Well, I could have leapt for joy. That pan fit my turkey with several inches to spare!

huge turkey 3

As you can see, the turkey feels exposed, being photographed in all his glory. He’s even blushing a slight pink. Here – I’ll cover him:

huge turkey 4

And into the oven he went. My friend saved the day. The turkey turned out tasty. And even though we’ll be feeding 15 people on Thanksgiving, I do believe we might have a bite or two of leftover turkey to enjoy in a sandwich this weekend.

Have you ever seen a turkey that big? Do you have any fun Thanksgiving preparation stories to tell?

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