7 Stages of a Kid-Free Vacation

As Mark and I approach fifteen years of marriage, we often forget what our life entailed before we transitioned from two college students aching to spend every day together to two groggy parents who rarely find two consecutive nights uninterrupted by the hum-drum details of managing a family of six. Living this life, working through the highs and lows of parenting, tends to take a toll on the people who created it. Like everyone else experiencing this stage, our previous life is a distant blur.


So goes the life of a married couple with kids. We love them; we love each other. We crave family time; we crave couple time. Our emotions oscillate as we walk this delicate balance of seeking enough minutes in the day for everyone. Most days, it's a struggle. Most days, we long for more. Some months, we may only squeeze in a couple of short hours out of the house together. Otherwise, we settle for coffee and squirrel-gazing on the deck while the kids play Minecraft inside, or wine and Netflix on the couch when they're finally asleep. We manage, because it's all we can do at this point in time. It's being a parent. We want it. We love it, even though it's difficult. We know it will not be like this forever.


However...


You can imagine that when an opportunity came up for us to spend a week focusing only on ourselves, we pounced on it before the grandparents had a second to change their minds.


They offered at least five, maybe seven days for us to be...alone. Alone, alone.

Because the decision was pretty last minute, and we already had commitments for a couple of the days, we weren't able to sneak off for a Caribbean vacay (my first choice). Instead, we enjoyed three staycation nights and two nights in a cabin on a lake a few hours from home. Mark worked some, and I fulfilled my obligations that had been set a month ago. As we navigated this new territory of kid-free vacation time, I realized that we did not experience an easy shift from parents to a couple on a romantic getaway. Our vacation moved through stages.


Seven stages to be exact.


Seven stages I did not expect to encounter during our eagerly anticipated break from parenthood. If you are ever going to enjoy some time away from your children, you may want to be prepared for this range of emotions that may show up out of nowhere. They came as a shocker for me, for sure.


Stage 1-Elation


We left the four children in our hometown (with both sets of grandparents) after spending the July 4th holiday weekend with everyone. Prepping for their weeklong stay was a lot of work for me, and while I knew I would miss them, I also knew that they were going to have cool adventures. So much excitement and anticipation had been building, so when it officially happened, all we could do was be giddy. I actually clapped and shrieked a little.


Stage 2-Relaxation


Our drive home without them was quiet. So quiet, in fact, that we were able to discuss ourselves. We talked about current events, work, our upcoming plans, whatever we wanted. Free from typical refereeing which usually happens during our family trips, we didn't utter any of these sentences:


Would you please chew with your mouth closed?


Stop poking your sister in the neck.


We'll be home in an hour.


Leave his pillow alone.


Quit kicking my seat.


Who has to go to the bathroom?


No, you cannot have any more snacks.


Yes, we're almost there.


How would you like it if someone poked you in the neck?


You know what I mean. Without anyone behind us, we were so relaxed. Sometimes, we didn't talk at all as we soaked up the lack of sound. Coming home to an empty house meant more quiet, more peace, more freedom to choose our own paths. We controlled the TV, the iPad, the meals, everything! It was surreal. We even walked to a local restaurant for dinner on Monday evening. The only people who walk to that hip spot are the young couples who haven't had any children yet and the empty nesters in our neighborhood. This time, we were one of them. No kid menus for this couple. No whiners about tired feet. Just us. Just awesome.


Stage 3-Regret


Tuesday morning dawned, and after Mark left the house for work, I began to wonder if we had made a mistake.


Did we really need all that time to ourselves? Should I really be sitting in such an empty house, sipping piping hot coffee and checking Facebook, uninterrupted?


I was missing my daily squeezes. Missing the sounds of my family. Missing the rooms filled with bodies, no matter how sassy or stinky or silly they are. I cleaned. I cooked. I laundered. I completed all of my motherly duties, all without a child underfoot. It felt strangely wrong, and I told Mark that I was worried about how slowly the day passed by without anybody home with me. Is this what life will be like when they all go to school next year?


Stage 4-Worry


Wednesday morning was our planned departure date for our mini-vacation. After we talked with each child and tied up loose ends around the house, I averted my future identity crisis. We hit the road, which meant more time in the car together, in the cabin, in restaurants. We turned into a married couple with no kids in sight.


We've been alone for four days now. What if we run out of conversation topics? Is this what it's going to be like when the kids are all grown, and we're alone together every day? Can we handle it?


Stage 5-Guilt


Yes! Handling it well, Mark and I felt young again. We dozed past 9 a.m., kayaked across a serenely tranquil lake, devoured double scoop waffle cones and cracked up at Tommy Boy. Throughout the hours, our children came up in conversation, always in the back of our minds.


Suddenly, by Thursday, the entire night slipped by without us calling to check on them, and I felt like the most rotten mother in the world.


How could I have gone to sleep without hearing from my babies?


I'm not 19 anymore, what was I thinking?


I'm a mom with countless responsibilities, and being an ultra-competitive diva playing Scattergories at a cabin in the boonies isn't one of them.


Or is it?


Stage 6-Reconnection


I drove to see the kids on a Saturday, exactly six days from saying good-bye to them. They seemed older and appeared different. We hugged, and I prodded them for info about their week. Instead of lengthy, juicy play-by-plays, they only provided me with short answers.


"Good. Yeah. I don't know."


The five of us returned all the way home on Sunday, driving with no DVD player and in tight enough quarters that their legs and shoulders actually touched one another. Taking Mark's sporty car so I could drive with an open sun-roof and loud radio on the way there didn't exactly work out so well for the return trip.


I began wondering if separating the family for almost a week made me less tolerable to their usual behaviors or if the kids were angry with each other and me for leaving them for a week. What had I done?


Stage 7-Anticipation


When Monday afternoon rolled around, I felt myself missing Mark like I hadn't missed him in years, even though he was only ten miles away at work. I had grown accustomed to being near him, to our bodies and minds being present with one another all the time. I found myself daydreaming about our future. I began to imagine not only our next date night, but also our next kid-free vacation and even our retirement. I remembered why we fell in love half of my lifetime ago, and I focused on how blessed I was that we have an entire life ahead of us.


Next, I chose to turn an even stronger focus to the kids. Focus on their humor, their needs and their purpose in our home. Being without them for a week did create a longing for more family time. More time connecting with each one. More listening. More summer relaxing. Just more.


Parents have so many responsibilities, and one of them is that we do what we can to recharge and renew ourselves. A kid-free vacation may not be in the cards for everyone, but any amount of time you can devote to yourself as an adult first can only help.


You may be surprised at how much closer it will bring the entire family. Even if there's not time this year, think about it for another time. Kids benefit from happy parents. I hope you will benefit from my experience in knowing it may not be easy, but it will definitely be worth it.


What have you done to renew yourself as a parent? Do you have any advice to share?

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Showing That Old Swing Set Some Love

The first swing set that sat in my childhood backyard was bought secondhand, from a yard sale. Someone was selling it a few blocks away, and when my parents decided to buy it for us, the previous owner, my dad, and a few other guys simply picked it up and carried it to our house. Fully assembled. No tools. No trucks. They just walked it through the neighborhood. I can still remember my giddy excitement in seeing that group of dads turn the corner toward my house, with my new swing set hiked high above their shoulders.


It was nothing like the heavy duty play sets kids have today. Nothing like the one Mark assembled in our backyard, which might need a crane when it's time to move. It was composed of plastic and metal, in shades of brown, yellow and white. That swing set had been the source of entertainment for some neighbor kids who outgrew it, and instead of going into the landfill, it was being brought back to life in our yard. For our excitement and that of all of our cousins and friends! That first swing set, a hand-me-down, provided several more years of memories for my brother and me.


Although my parents have never moved from my childhood home, our trusty yellow swing set eventually rusted and cracked. When it was time, my younger brother was given a cooler, newer set for his generation to enjoy...one that my dad bought from the store and assembled with tools.


Over the past sixteen years, my dad has become Grandpa to nine children. A few years ago, rust and cracks on the old set meant it was time, once again, to buy a new one. My husband and older brother, the dads of all of those kids, were tasked with assembling it.


The first place that our kids run to when they head out to Grandma and Grandpa's backyard is the swing set. It's a staple. A given. A monument for the fun they have there year after year. From the times when we only had a few little kids, to now when we have teenagers and preschoolers, it has served a strong purpose.


Easter eggs hide under the slide.


Moms feverishly snap photos, as all 9 kids drape over it.


Grandpa gets bonked in the head by a flying swing.


Cousins create obstacle courses...and memories.


Grandmas lovingly watch from the window, as the circle of life continues.


Swing sets may seem like such trivial pieces of play equipment. Sometimes they may even
be an eyesore. Yet, they are important. Significant. A key facet of a child's growing years.

The set that we have in our own yard features bright yellow and green plastic pieces. It's certainly not aesthetically pleasing in our tranquilly wooded backyard. We were beginning to question why our kids don't play on it as often as they once did. My friend, Becky, even suggested I tackle the feelings moms have when swing sets are shown less love, and then something crazy happened.


Our oldest son invited a friend over, another twelve-year-old-boy. After being inside for about an ninety minutes, they ventured outside to play. The Very First Stop his friend made was at our swing set. He climbed up the rock wall, which is actually shorter than he is tall, but somehow, he still found it thrilling. He slid down the slide. He crossed the monkey bars and pumped his legs on the swings, just as enthusiastically as any six-year-old I've seen.


I called Mark over to see what was happening. Together, we watched from our kitchen window, as two video-game-loving boys showed our old swing set some love. It was a handsome sight for sure!

Do you feel attached to your swing set? Will you pass yours on for another family to enjoy when it's time?

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Being a Child's First Valentine-6 Reasons My Dad Was Mine

It's usually around Father's Day when our social media feeds explode with abundant expressions of love that people feel for their dads. It's only fair that fathers receive that recognition during lawn mowing and grilling season, but I'm about to break tradition. I'm about to gush about my dad in the middle of February, because while spending time with my little boys over the weekend, I realized he was my very first Valentine.

Still chilling in our jammies, Marshall, Chip and I were lying, tummies down, on the family room carpet. Armed with red pens and class lists, we surrounded ourselves with dozens of store-bought Batman and Star Wars Valentines. The boys signed their names on the cards meant for classmates and friends, and then they stuffed them in baggies in anticipation of the big party coming up on Friday. My youngest planned to save one of his cards for me. He examined them all, and he carefully chose one that was two inches bigger than all of the others, featuring the forever-wise and wonderful Yoda. I'm sure he didn't choose it for me because he believes I'm as enlightened as Yoda. More likely, it's because I'm tall, so I should have a tall card.

The thought of receiving a Valentine from my small son pulled a vivid memory to the forefront of my mind. A memory of a special surprise dessert I made for my dad when I was a little girl: a chocolate cake shaped like a heart. It was the '80's, so even if heart-shaped cake pans were in existence, my mom had no plan to buy one. We were going to create our own heart cake with what we had at home.

We whipped up a trusty box of devil's food cake-my dad's favorite-and evenly poured the batter into one square cake pan and one round cake pan. Courtesy of Google and Pinterest, people in 2015 know that you can create a heart-shaped cake by cutting a round cake in half and connecting the two halves to the square cake. In the '80's, my mom just knew. I was convinced she was a genius.

To frost the cake, we also made a batch of my mom's famous homemade icing, and I colored it a light shade of pink. She slathered that pink fluffiness all over the chocolaty goodness, and suddenly, we no longer could see any traces of three individual pieces of cake. We had turned those fragmented slices into one giant, seamless, chocolate heart, covered in rich whipped cream icing.

My dad came home from work that Valentine's night to find his big pink heart waiting for him on our kitchen table. He smiled and MMMed through every morsel, as adults often do as they eat something a child has prepared for them. My dad was the best at making me believe whatever I had baked for him was the most incredible piece of anything he had ever eaten in his entire life.

I was so proud of that pink heart cake when I was a young girl. My dad made me feel that I had made something exceptional. These days, heart-shaped cake pans are a dime a dozen, and I've had a few of them over the years. Maybe I should hide mine and encourage the kids to use their brains to make their own dad a special cake for Valentine's Day. He would be proud of their geometry skills for sure.

Though this story is about my own father, I know it may resonate with you as well. For those of you who have sentimental dads like I do, I hope that joyful memories will surface as you think about times spent with your own father. For the men who are reading, my hope is that you can contemplate the ladies and little girls in your life. Are you worthy to be their first or forever Valentine?

We hear it all the time: that we may not appreciate what our parents have done for us until we are our parents ourselves. When we're living through the daily grind as kids, how could we possibly know that what our parents are doing for us will have such significance? Now that I'm a mom and sharing parenthood with Mark, I'm able to see 6 reasons my dad was my first Valentine.

1. When I think of what a man and father should be like, I think of my dad. I grew up in a steel mill town, where everyone's dad worked in one factory or another. Shift work. Overtime. Steel-toed boots and hard hats. Work clothes that can't be washed with the regular laundry. Men taking care of business to take care of their families. No complaining. No whining. Just working hard to make it all work. That was and still is my dad.

2. When I was young, cars didn't have remote locks, and stores didn't have automatic doors. I was let into a building or into our car by my dad's two hands. Even though technology has come a long way to put an end to chivalry, my dad continues to insist on practicing one of my favorite gentlemanly gestures, everywhere we go.

3. My dad was the first person to ever give me flowers. We really didn't make that big of a deal about Valentine's Day, but as my dad would present my mom with flowers and a box of Fannie May Mint Meltaways, he would always have a smaller bouquet waiting for me.

4. When we were on the brink of adolescence, my best friend's father very suddenly passed away. It was the most tragic event imaginable. Up until that point, all of our lives had been completely entwined with one another. It was as if we had two homes, two sets of siblings and two sets of parents. When one father was suddenly lost, my own dad naturally and effortlessly embraced the children in that family. One year later, she and I were attending a summer writing program. It was almost Father's Day, so our teacher asked all of us to write about our dads. She asked my best friend if she could think of another man, someone who loved her as her dad had done, for her story. She decided to write about my dad. Why he was special to her. How he cared for her and her little brother, always taking the bunch of us to the park and out for ice cream. Her incredible story was published in the local newspaper. I was only eleven years old, so I didn't really see the significance or magnitude of everything that was happening through those years. Now that I am a mother, I see it all. I see how my dad viewed that loss and the responsibility to his friend's children. She and I are still best friends, with our own families now, and he has never let that compassion or dedication subside.

5. During all of my cello performances, or at any of the kazillion other activities my brothers and I dabbled in through the years, I knew that if I looked out into the audience or up in the stands, my dad would be there. Even bone-weary from working the midnight shift, his presence was a given...a constant. Now that he's Grandpa to nine grandchildren, he unquestionably watches their games and attends their special performances, too.

6. One of the coolest and most selfless acts my dad has done was forgoing a big 60th birthday bash to celebrate at the McDonald's play land with his grandkids. As his family is what matters most to him, and being with those nutty kiddos makes him so stinkin' happy, he chose to spend his birthday at a place where the kids would be comfortable. They wouldn't need to worry about being bored or staying clean or speaking politely to a bunch of strangers. So, we booked his party at McD's, where he was the oldest birthday "child" they had ever hosted. He played the silly games, wore the special hat, posed for crazy pictures, and in the end, it's a party none of us will ever forget.

Aren't all parents supposed to be a child's first Valentine? The most trusted source of love they'll ever know? I know I'm honored to be Marshall's. Unfortunately, not everyone is blessed with such strong and caring parents, so I guess all I can really say to my own father is thanks for being "Dad."

Happy Valentine's Day!

Love,
Sissy-Liss

Would you tell me about your own first Valentine? If your own memories are not filled with pink hearts and chocolate, what have you done as a parent to show unconditional love to your babies?

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My Christmas Tree is Still Standing

Nearly five weeks have passed since Christmas Day, yet our Christmas tree is still perched in our living room, fully decorated, right in front of our windows. Go ahead, feel free to gasp, shriek and judge. Revel in my laziness. I have found that my readers especially love my posts which document that I do fail at some parts of my job as wife/mother/woman of the world.

I talk to my mom on the phone every day, sometimes more than once. During one of our chats in the middle of January, she asked me if our tree was down yet. Of course, I laughed and gave the same response I give her every year around the same time,

"Nope, it's not Trixie's birthday yet."

We do not leave the tree up until Trixie's birthday for any real reason. It has just become a nice, solid deadline to strive for and a way to remember that when she was born, my mom took down our tree while we were at the hospital.

The year that Trixie was born, I had a semi-legitimate excuse for still having up our Christmas tree toward the end of January. Coming through the holidays with one baby who had just learned to walk and being extremely pregnant myself, who had time to think about taking down ornaments and lights and then putting them away in boxes? Weren't we lucky enough that the tree was decorated at all that year?

I was barely able to waddle after my also waddling toddler. I was falling on ice and going to physical therapy. It was cold and flu season. Our Christmas tree was the least of my concerns. Reese and our second child were going to be sixteen months apart in age, so I was storing any energy I had for when that baby did come. Having two babies in sixteen months sounded really close, yet manageable. Possible. My grandma had done it; my aunts had done it. I could do it, too. 

In reality, sixteen months was not meant to be our number. Sneaky little sister was anxious to meet us and made a very early, yet healthy debut. She brought the age gap between Reese and her even closer, making it fourteen months and some change. Her sudden birth caused quite a stir, as you can imagine. By the time we returned home from the hospital, bringing our tiny little girl to join her big brother and fuzzy doggie, all the leftover stress from a pregnant lady unable to put away her Christmas stuff had been magically erased.

My mother, always a loving caretaker and detailed organizer, had cleaned up everything for me. We were free to enter our home (and begin our new life as a family of four) with the fresh slate feeling that January often brings. Thank goodness for my mom. If it hadn't been for her, we might have just left the tree up till the following Christmas.

None of this suggests that every January has been as eventful as the year of Trixie's birth. A few of them have been really nuts, like the years we decided to move to and from Japan, and then again when we moved into our current house. I don't know what it is with us moving in the dead of Winter. On the other hand, most of our post-holiday seasons have been pretty standard. It's just that after all of the hustle and bustle, I'm never in a rush to drag up all the boxes to deconstruct the jolliness that has filled our home. It will seem so bare. So plain. So blah.

Right?

Actually, since Christmas was over a month ago, I know I'm ready for everything to come down now. It's time for me to gaze openly out my front window once again.

Trixie's birthday has now come and gone for 2015. I had set a goal to take down our tree over the weekend. I verbalized that ambitious goal to everyone here, only to be sidetracked by normal family happenings, such as a very loud trip to the bouncy house gym, fluffy purple cupcakes and our brand new, late-night Netflix addiction to Sons of Anarchy.

Our Christmas tree still remains. Its presence lingers in my mind every night when I finally rest my head on the pillow and then realize, Shoot, we still didn't take that tree down. Every time I pass by it or sit next to it as I write, I wonder, When will we ever have the time to put it away? It's exactly eighteen inches from me at this very second, but it's not down yet!

Will our Christmas tree still be standing by Valentine's Day? Surely not. My mom is coming this weekend.

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Declaring to Value Our Time this December and Find Peace

When did it become December 2nd? Our tree is decorated, our Elf (named Harry...as in Potter), is back up on the shelf again, and the kids are anxiously counting the days until Christmas, using the not-so-fancy countdown board we found on clearance at the end of last season. We just finished up celebrating two kids' birthdays and then Thanksgiving, and now it's time to prepare for Christmas. Seriously, how did it happen?

I'll forever be amazed that since becoming parents, time just seems to disappear. It continually slips away, through our fingertips, always just out of reach. Although we'd like to catch it, grasp it and stop it from moving forward, it's impossible. Everywhere I go, when I see friends or family, someone says, "Can you believe it's already ________?" We fill in the blank with the year, or whatever holiday that seems to have arrived too soon, or time for school to start, or time for school to end. Today, I'm saying, "Can you believe it's already December?" Very soon I'll be announcing, "I cannot believe it's 2015!"

Something enlightening popped in front of my eyes yesterday which really inspired me to stop. Stop worrying about time. Stop fretting over the never-ending to-do lists of December. Stop, look, listen and enjoy what is in front of us.

This something quietly came across my Facebook feed, along with all the pictures of cats and newly decorated Christmas trees and inappropriate jokes. It was a beautifully written declaration made by my cousin's wife. She had openly declared to slow down. To enjoy her two babies. Her husband. Her life. She vowed to forget about the hassle of baking and gift buying and parties that inevitably make us all stressed and crazy during the holidays. She had decided what was most important to her at this point in their beautiful life, and she laid it all out there for Facebook-land to see. Maybe people scrolled past it, or maybe people thought she was suddenly Grinchy. I'm hoping that most people saw the same beauty in her ideas that I did.

She has inspired me.

For the past few weeks, I had been thinking about what is looming over my head this Christmas season. The calendar is filing up quickly, as our month is busy with travel and hosting and volunteering and shopping and baking and on and on. I'm the type of person who wants to do it all, see everybody, and be everywhere. Are you?

I'm thankful to have an insightful husband who can see this struggle I carry within myself. He recently removed one item from our plate. I fought him till the end, worrying about how it would affect others if we simply erased it from the calendar. Now that I'm officially free from the worry of this event, I can breathe a little easier as I prepare for my children's favorite holiday.

So, as Mark did his part to remove a hosting event from my holiday duties, I am going to do mine. I'm not ready to be as bold as my cousin and delete everything. However, I do have one Christmas obligation that I'm declaring right here, right now, simply to ignore this year. Do you have something you continue to do, year after year, but it seems to bring more harm to your holiday spirit than cheer? Will you join my cousin and me in letting go?

Here's my official statement. There's no turning back now:

I will not worry about sending a hundred Christmas cards this year.

I will not stress about posing my four children for that impossible perfect Christmas card photo. They are adorable and funny and loving and wild, and I'm not going to compare my picture to all of the others that come through my mailbox this year.

I will not spend hours going through last year's cards, my address file, the post-office or Shutterfly, looking for that "just right" card that says who we are this year.

I won't feel the sense of sadness that inevitably occurs when I send cards to people year after year who never send them to me.

I will carefully select one glittery, cheerful and sentimental card to send to my only living grandparent, letting her know that we value and appreciate the gift that she is to our family. I will encourage our children to send cards to their grandparents and those who mean the most to them.

I will gaze, with a smile on my face, as my children open the mailbox to find someone has thought of us this year.

I will cherish each and every card that does come to our home, from near and far. I will take time to read the messages, examine the sweet photos and feel thankful for those who do carry on this Christmas tradition I love so much.

I vow that next December, I will have the foresight to eliminate other needless duties from our schedule, freeing up time to send Christmas cards to the family and friends I so deeply value. I kindly ask those with whom we usually exchange cards: please don't take us off your lists. Our entryway would not be the same this year without your festive greetings taped all around. I'm still thinking of you, remembering you and wishing you a wonderful holiday season.

Can you think of something that you might want to remove from your busy life this season? Do you need a little nudge to finally give yourself permission to just let it go? Here I am, nudging you, ever-so-gently, to do what's most important to you and your family this year. Imagine all of the new memories you can create once you free yourself of the obligation. Imagine the peace.

Broccoli Rice Casserole

Every family has those favorite dishes we feel must grace our holiday tables in order to make the day complete. I've told you that Thanksgiving is the holiday I love the very most. It's about family and food and companionship. We talk and laugh and relax...and eat! When my brothers and I were growing up, we always made two stops on Thanksgiving Day. We would spend the daytime hours with my dad's side of the family, and then in the evening, we would pop over to see my mom's family for a quick sandwich, slice of pie, and a bowl of my aunt's famous macaroni salad.

Until I was a young adult, my paternal grandmother prepared a traditional and hearty meal every Thanksgiving, always set at 2 p.m.  She was a very tiny woman with a quiet grace who opened her home and heart for the love of her family. I'd like to share one of the recipes that she used to make for our Thanksgiving dinner. It has been thirteen years since she passed away, but every time that I smell this dish bubbling away in the oven, I fondly remember all of the years we spent gathered around my grandma's table.

Broccoli Rice Casserole

Ingredients:

1/2 stick of margarine (or butter)
1 T. minced onions (from the spice rack)
1 1/2 c. water
10 oz. chopped frozen broccoli
1 1/2 c. raw Minute Rice
1 can of Campbell's Cheddar Cheese soup
1 can of Cream of Mushroom soup
1 can of French's Fried Onions (the kind you put on green bean casserole)

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees and spray a casserole dish with non-stick spray. (2 qt. round or 11x7 inches).

2. In a medium pot, bring water, butter and minced onions to a boil. Add the frozen broccoli and bring to a boil again.

3. Add the Minute Rice. Stir, cover and remove from heat. Let stand for 5 minutes.

4. Add the 2 cans of soup and stir all together until combined.

5. Spread the broccoli/rice mixture into the pan. Bake for 30 minutes. Top with fried onions and bake for 5 more.

HELPFUL TIP: For weeknight dinners, I've been making this dish with California blend, which gives it an added sweetness from the carrots. Otherwise, I like it just as it is for Thanksgiving, Easter and baby showers. It just reminds me of Grandma.


I know you have some favorite family recipes that remind you of holiday dinners or desserts. Would you leave me a comment to tell me about them?

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