Snickerdoodle Cashew Butter

My diet has been reasonably restrictive lately. I've been on the first stage of the anti-candida diet (yeast-free diet), which means I can't have sugar (fruit, artificial sweeteners and natural sugar included), dairy, gluten, peanuts, and a whole mess of other things.
I also can't have almonds, because my sweet girl is allergic, and we are still breastfeeding! And, because she also has a peanut allergy, I can't have garbanzo beans...because, as it turns out, they are closely related, and she reacts to them, too.

So, as you can imagine, desserts have been a struggle lately.
The restrictions on my diet rule out most everything I have routinely made for desserts- both healthy and not- in the past. Ice cream and real cookies are out. Almond butter cookies? Out. Garbanzo bean cookies? Out. Fruit pan fried in coconut oil? Out. And most baking recipes call for some sort of sweetener that works as a binder. But, of course, even raw honey (my paleo go-to sweetener) is O-U-T.

And it was out of this little conundrum that this recipe was born. The texture is almost identical to peanut butter when warm, and closer to cookie dough when cold, and the taste is similar to snickerdoodles.
It curbs the sugar cravings like nothing else, and it's guilt-free. Win-win.
Now, is it guilt-free when I go through a whole batch of this in a matter of days? I don't know. I'm not asking questions.

Snickerdoodle Cashew Butter

5 cups whole roasted unsalted cashews
1 tsp extra virgin coconut oil
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp celtic sea salt
2 Tbs pure xylitol
4 packets stevia (with no additives- I use Sweet Leaf)
1 tsp vanilla

Grind the whole cashews on high in a food processor for several minutes, until smooth and creamy. The cashews will go through several stages before becoming creamy- first it will be crumbly, then stiff, then thick, and eventually it will start warming up and getting creamy. Give it time and scrape down the sides when needed.
Once the cashews have formed a butter, add the coconut oil and process well. Then add the rest of the ingredients, process until thoroughly combined, and taste. Add more salt, cinnamon or sweetener to taste.
Store in a container in the fridge.

Spread on toast (or a coconut meat tortilla, if you're eating like me right now), use as a fruit dip, or just eat by the spoonful.

Enjoy!

When Your Hands Are Full, Remember This.

Life gets overwhelming as a mom, sometimes. Sometimes, getting through the day isn’t as easy as it used to be. Sometimes, the house looks like a hurricane blew through it, and the babies are leeches on my legs, and the only thing I want to do is sit down and eat a bite of that food I made for myself thirty minutes ago. I don’t know about you, fellow mamas, but sometimes, I need a little perspective.

Often times, for me, that perspective comes in the form of this note I wrote to myself several years back. I go back to it from time to time, when I need the reminder. 

At the time that I wrote it, I was twenty years old. I had been married for seven months. For each one of those seven months, we had been trying, and failing, to get pregnant. Every month, I had thrown away multiple negative tests. Every month, I began to lose hope. Every month, I got a little more worried that maybe something was wrong. That maybe it wasn’t going to happen for us.

And I remember the sting when other women would get pregnant on accident. I remember the wave of envy that washed over me when women would half-heartedly complain about the woes of pregnancy- the stretch marks, the aches and pains, the fatigue. I remember swearing to myself that, if I ever got pregnant, I would never forget how valuable each painful moment would be. I sat down at my computer that day, threw my thoughts on the page and titled it, “Remember This.”

Remember this.

When I look at my body now,
a little imperfect,
but young and in shape,
I try to imagine what it would look like with a bump instead.
When I look at my hips and stomach,
my skin is smooth.
I’d replace it with a thousand stretch marks for you.
When I look at the number when I set on the scale,
it reads a few pounds heavier than I wish.
But I’d add thirty pounds
if it meant you were on your way.
Don’t wish for your pre-pregnancy body back.

When I want to eat,
I can eat what I want.
When I want to drink,
I drink what I want.
I can have caffeine, feta cheese, any kind of fish, and alcohol.
I’d throw that all away if it meant I could be with you.
Don’t wish to have your pre-pregnancy diet back.

When I wake up in the morning,
I’m not sick.
I can eat what I want,
and go on with my day.
I’d have morning sickness every day of my pregnancy
if it meant I was pregnant with you.
Don’t wish for your pre-pregnancy health back.

When I’m not working,
my day is my own.
I can sleep in as late as I want,
go out whenever I want,
and hang out with my husband
whenever I want.
And I’d give it all up for a moment with you.
Don’t wish for your time to yourself back.

When I clean the house
it stays clean.
I wish there were little hands messing all of it up.
When I go grocery shopping,
I can spend money on little things for me.
I wish I was spending that money on diapers instead.
Don’t wish for a clean house back.

I would rather be trying to work off the pregnancy pounds every day for the rest of my life
than to be spending it without you.
I would rather be covered in stretch marks
than look the way I do now without you.
I would rather be stuck eating on a strict diet for you
than to eat whatever I want without you.
I would rather be bed-ridden with morning sickness
than to be fine and healthy without you.
I would rather be scheduling every moment of my time around your schedule
than to live the rest of my life without you.
I would rather be cleaning up toys and food and who knows what else
off the floors and walls and everywhere else
than to have a perfectly clean home without you.

Don’t forget.

Friends, if you’re in over your head with your kids these days, I hope you can find a little bit of perspective for yourself, too. I hope you can remember what your life was like before the craziness, before the sleeplessness, before the endless piles of laundry. I hope you can remember what that hole in your heart felt like, and what it feels like to have that hole filled.
It doesn’t minimize the stress. It certainly doesn’t make it go away. But it does give you that much-needed reminder that it’s worth it- every single moment.

A Winnie The Pooh Birthday Party

If you know anything about my two year old right now, it's that she loves Winnie the Pooh. I mean, this kid is obsessed. She has a stuffed Pooh that sleeps with her and comes with us wherever we go. He's her pseudo-baby doll. She has baby dolls, but Pooh beat them out. He even gets to ride in her "baby wrap" (a scarf tied like a sling wrap).

It seemed only right that we threw a Winnie the Pooh themed party for her second birthday this year, complete with a smackerel of honey and plenty of bees. 

 

The Invitation

Honey Bees and Beehives

Honey Bees and Beehives

 

I was happy with how it turned out, but even happier when we got to watch her run around saying, "I'm happy! I'm so excited!" for the duration of the two hour party. And she was happy. I mean, after all, she did get to go to the Hundred Acre Wood. What more could a Pooh-Bear-Obsessed-Two-Year-Old ask for? 

My husband's parents graciously hosted the party at their house, and even set up a  "Hundred Acre Wood" play area downstairs, which is where the kids spent the majority of the party. 

Here are some pictures of various elements of the party...

A Pasta bar with Tigger Tails and Rabbit's Garden Veggies

(pinspiration)

Pooh's Honey Pots and Honey Bee Cake Pops
(pinspiration)

Piglet's Punch
(pinspiration)

Honey and Dipper Favors

We are so thankful for the friends and family who came and shared this special day with us. It was a perfect party for our Winnie-the-Pooh Girl!

Double Chocolate Fudge Truffles

Going on a Paleo diet (or mostly Paleo... I mean, it's the holiday season...who am I kidding?) sparks some creativity into my food choices. Mostly out of necessity, because I can't just have no desserts. 

I don't know what this is, to be honest. Cookie dough? Fudge? Some mix between the two, maybe? 

It's delicious, though, and pretty healthy, considering how good it is. My one complaint is that I always run out too fast. Because it's that good. 

So here it is. Merry Christmas, ladies and gentlemen.

Double Chocolate Fudge Truffles 

(Paleo, vegan, gluten-free, refined-sugar free)

1 1/2 cups cashew pieces

3 Tbs extra virgin coconut oil

1/2 cup cocoa powder

2 cups almond butter 

1/2 tsp vanilla extract 

1/8 tsp sea salt

1/4 cup raw honey

1/4 cup coconut sugar 

1/4 cup chocolate chips (paleo- I make my own)

Add cashews and coconut oil to your food processor and pulse until very smooth- it should almost be a liquid. Add cocoa powder and blend well. 

Add almond butter if your processor can handle it (mine can't). Otherwise, hand mix it in until completely blended. 

In a bowl, Stir in remaining ingredients in order. Adjust sweetness to taste. 

Scoop with a melon baller or ice cream scoop and store in the fridge. Eat ungodly amounts and feel no guilt. 

I Can't Fight All Your Battles For You

It’s often late at night, it seems, when God whispers the most important things to me.

Tonight, I found myself laying wide-eyed in the darkness again, my mind wandering. It wandered to my children, as it usually does. I began to introspect on how defensive I find myself being of them. How I feel like a mama bear sometimes, wanting to fiercely warn others to keep their distance of my babies. How I want to jump to my girls’ defense at the first sight of their discomfort. How I want to silence every negative tone and every less-than-kind word thrown their way.

It's not uncharacteristic of me, particularly. I'm loyal to a fault, and always have been. I would go to war for "my people." I swear loyalty to people that takes drastic measures to undo. I give people second and third and fourth chances. I have trouble putting my foot down and setting healthy boundaries, and tend to let people take advantage of my loyalty. The good comes with the bad, as it does with any trait, and I certainly have both.
But with motherhood came an entirely new level of commitment within me that I didn't know I had. My children are a part of me, now. They each reside in a part of my soul that no one else can fill. I would fight to the death for these girls. I would risk everything I have to protect them.

“Above all else,” I mused, “I want my girls to know that I will always be in their corner.”

I saw myself in a parted crowd, facing down some kind of enemy, behind my oldest daughter’s back, whispering, “You tell me when, and I’ll come in swinging.”

But, as He does from time to time, God gently interjected.

“You can’t always fight their battles,” He told me, “or they will never grow.”

He was right.

And of course, He’s right. How could my kids learn a thing in life if I never let them? What kind of adults would I be raising them into if they never learned how to set their own boundaries? Or if they never learned how to resolve conflict? Or if they never learned how to stand up for themselves? I would be an enabler, not a protector. I would be damaging and crippling the very lives I’m aiming to defend.

And then, God drew the connection for me.
“I can’t always fight your battles for you, either.”

The idea silenced my always-moving mind for a split second.

He doesn’t. And so often, I beg Him to. I sometimes mistakenly interpret His lack of intervention as a lack of support. I want Him to fix it, always and immediately. I want Him to silence the people that speak untrue words about me. I want Him to intervene in disagreements and put an end to any conflict that arises. I want Him to make others stop pushing my boundaries so I don't have to speak up. I want Him to shield me from discomfort and pain.

But He is a wiser parent than I. He knows that there are times when it would only cripple me to be sheltered. It would only hinder my growth to disallow me to make my own choices and fight my own battles.

It's not a lack of love or a lack of loyalty that keeps Him at bay. It is just the opposite, in fact. It's because of His love that He holds back and lets me grow.

He loves me infinitely more than I love my own children. And if I feel so fiercely loyal to these tiny little lives, and yet still must give them space to grow, how much more must God love me as He does the same?

There will be times, and there have been times already, where my girls will need me to fight for them. Times when they are too young, too small or too weak to protect themselves. And at those times, I have been there. At those times, I will always be there for them.

And in those times, when I am too young, too small or too weak, God steps in for me. That’s when He steps in front of me. That’s when He comes in swinging.

But when He does not, I know that He is lovingly, loyally and wisely letting me grow.

Loss and Life

As I lay here feeling the heavy breath of my sleeping seven week old on my chest, my mind wanders. How blessed I am, I know, to experience this. To feel her sweet, sweaty face on my skin. To smell her soft little head and kiss her gently. How blessed I am to have a toddler sleeping in the other room. God has been so good to us, and given us so much.

Yesterday, I was reminded of how precious my children are to me. Yesterday was October 15- National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. And two weeks from tomorrow marks a year from the day we lost a very early pregnancy.

It was Halloween. I was likely five or six weeks pregnant. But, strange as it may be, losing a child you barely knew doesn't soften the blow.

It hits you deep in the gut, pounding into the core of you each time you catch yourself dreaming of what you thought would be. It’s a wound that reopens each morning, as the memory of reality floods back. It’s a wound that stays tender much long after the impact. A wound that someday heals, but still scars, as a reminder of what was once there.

Tears flowed heavy that afternoon. My heart threatened to split in two. The rage was palpable in my body. And through the gut-wrenching sobs, the begging God to save my baby, the pleading to give me back the plans that I had made and the dreams that suddenly were put to an end, the same thought repeated in my mind.

"This isn't how it's supposed to be."

It's not supposed to be this way. It wasn't meant to be this way. Death and loss feels so tragic, so unnatural, so unfair, because that's exactly what it is.

It's easy to forget, I think, that death wasn't the original plan. It's easy to forget that God's design was for us to live and to keep living. Sin brought loss into the picture.
And so, we are living in this world that has death and heartbreak and loss. And it hurts. It hurts because it's not the way it was supposed to be.

Babies weren't meant to die. Mothers weren't meant to lose their children. Husbands weren't meant to comfort their grieving wives as they try to pick up the pieces of their own broken hearts.

God does not bring death. But in death, in sorrow and in loss, God remains good. He remains faithful. He doesn't turn away and tell us, "this is how it is." He doesn't leave us to mend ourselves back together. He doesn't excuse death and loss and ask us to be strong, or to gladly accept the pain.

Like a father who picks up his injured child, he holds us close, whispering gently, "I know you're hurt; I'm here."

In the middle of the loss, God was near. When my heart was screaming at him to let me have my baby, he held me close. He knew my heartache. He felt my pain. And he told me, "I know you're hurt; I'm here."

He didn't fix it for me. He didn't take away the hurt. But he never let me go. He was good then, in death. He was good still, when three weeks later, he gave us another life to care for. And he is good today, as that little life sleeps on my chest.

In death and in loss, God is there. In life and in blessings, He is there. In losing a child, whether at 5 weeks, or 14 weeks, or 38 weeks pregnant, He is there. He is good, he knows the hurt, and he is there. In allowing ourselves to be held by God, we can face the heartache of the world not being as it was meant to be. We don't have to bear the weight of that pain alone.

A Letter to Seventeen-Year-Old Me

Recently, a question was proposed on a blog I follow, Mundane Faithfulness (which is written, by the way, by my favorite elementary school teacher), that made me think. A lot.

“When you were 17 or 18 ish and about to graduate- what words of love did you need to hear? ...What would you say to your 17 year old self if you had the chance?”

There were many things that I needed to hear when I was seventeen. I needed a lot of advice and a lot of guidance- and I needed a lot of affirmation. And though the question presented on Mundane Faithfulness was directed more towards the affirmation, it also made me think about the words of advice that I needed to hear as well.

Five years ago, I was seventeen, almost eighteen, and about to graduate high school. And I was terrified. Absolutely, completely, paralyzed in fear.
I was a deer in the headlights, watching my life barreling down the road, functioning only out of the hope that if I didn’t make a move, it would turn the other way and leave me be.
But of course, time passed anyway. And I said goodbye to the only friends I had, as they left for colleges in other states. And I said goodbye to my boyfriend of a year and a half, who was leaving for college in Kansas, and I wondered if he would ever come back to me. I holed myself up in my room, afraid to look for jobs, for fear that I would find one and have to face my social anxiety. And I begrudgingly signed up for graphic design classes at a community college, because in order to stay on my parents’ insurance, I needed to be in school. I resented the fact that I had to go to school at all, when I certainly had no idea what kind of “real-world career” I wanted to pursue. And I very much resented the fact that I was alone, and that change had come, and that I had lost every thread of the security blanket I had been clinging so tightly to.
I was exhausted, and bitter, and lonely.
And I needed very much to hear a few things. If I could go back in time and give myself the love and advice I needed, this is what I would tell myself. 

Dear Seventeen-year-old Me...

1. It’s okay if you don’t know what you want to do yet. Take it one day at a time and don't overwhelm yourself with the pressure to do it "right." Sometimes it takes a few years (or more) to figure out what you want to do. So if you're not sure, earn money- don't spend it. Be productive and wise with your time, energy and resources while you still are trying to find your direction, so that when you do know where you want to go, you will be in a good position to get there. Keep your eyes and your heart open, and when a door opens to something you love, don’t miss the chance to walk through.

2. Whatever you do when you should be doing something else is what you should be pursuing as a career. The things you find yourself using to procrastinate are the things you really love to do. If you pursue what you love as a career, you will be happy not only on the journey there, but when you arrive as well. It doesn't mean it will be easy- but it means it will be worth it to you.

3. Put yourself in the position to receive opportunities. Things will not fall in your lap. It's good to be patient, but be careful not to be stagnant. Be assertive and confident when the situation calls for it, and then, when you have done all you can do, then take a step back and wait.

4. Don't fear or fight change. Change always comes but never stays. You will always adjust, and settle into the new "normal." Adjustment periods are hard, and they will always be scary, but you will get better at anticipating them and coping with them as you get older. Embrace each change as practice for the next.

5. You are not confined by your label. The person that others know you to be does not limit who you are. You do not have to fit into the box that your family, friends, classmates or teachers have put you in. You do not have to fit in the box that you have put yourself in. At any point, you can turn the page and start new. You can be better, stronger, happier, healthier or kinder. You can quit old habits and start new ones. You can heal old wounds and seek to mend broken relationships. You can quit things you used to love, and start things you have never tried. Do not allow yourself to be tied to a reputation. And even if no one else accepts the change in you, you still can.

Go read the original post where this question was presented; what would you say to seventeen-year-old you?