Dress Wearing Football Player

 When a family gets a break in the day, we play football.

Or at least Tay is eager to play football.

But, by the time we get to the field (or cemetary), Tay finds 50 degree weather to warm for a coat & hat.

And runs freely in the field.


Our Tay is surely full of life & keeps me on my toes. She is nearing three & eager to invite everyone she knows. Her giggle is still infectious as ever, she has started calling me "mom" & gets a second wind of energy in the evening.  She loves to wear dresses & play with her sister, while she insists that her Sunday School Teachers are going to party it up with her at her birthday.  Her world is her purple blankie, sissy, mama (I don't like being called mom yet), daddy, grandparents, aunts & uncles, friends & dresses with sparkly shoes.  This girl gives me great kisses & snuggles.  And I'm certain she would be a hoot at a slumber party in years to come.


When Ben Finds Himself in the Kitchen

The following was too good to not share with a larger audience.  Here is Ben's take on being married to me, a wife blogger & one who happens to love food, cooking & baking. 


Many of you know my wife Kamille Scellick is a culinary expert and has a blog, where, among other things, she sometimes posts recipes and food how-tos. I’ve considered starting a blog aimed at those who have spouses who blog about food as kind of a how-to and helpful guide as most of us have cooking skills that have atrophied and live in the shadow of cooking greatness. 

This morning provided an opportunity to generate such a post if I indeed did have this blog. Kamille was sick last night but promised our 2 & 4 year old she would make them pancakes (wheat/sugar free I’m sure) if she felt better this morning. She didn’t feel better this morning and there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth among the kids, but dad stepped in to create a beautiful tasty breakfast different than the usual weekday fare.

In the past I’ve cooked this kind of breakfast many times, so no problem, but there were actually a few problems this time around:


  1.  I really haven’t cooked anything in about a year other than a slab of meat or mashed sweet potatoes 
  2. Our diets have changed a lot in the last year, including being mostly wheat/sugar free and I still don’t know how to make any “treats” under those guidelines 
  3. Most of the usual ingredients of our kitchen have been changed due to our new diet  
  4. Our kitchen has been rearranged two or three times in the last year so I really don’t know where to find anything. I hope this entry serves as a helpful how-to for those of you who also have culinary spouses. See the “How to make waffles for your kids” steps below.



On Dad Making Waffles for his Daughters:

‎1. Although your spouse is a wiz at wheat/sugar/dairy-free cooking, you don’t know the first place to start with those, so you’ll go with just regular food this time. Look for the simple, basic “Betty Crocker” cookbook you got for you wedding. Although you count 45 books on the bookshelf, none of which you have ever used, the Betty Crocker one isn’t one of them. Assume your spouse threw it away as it is too basic to be of use. Google “waffle recipe” instead and go with the first hit

2. Cross your fingers and hope you have regular flour. You for sure have Almond flour (don’t know how to use it) and probably French Pastry flour or raw wheat to ground your own flour or something. Breathe sigh of relief when a plastic container labeled “All Purpose Flour” is found in the back of a cabinet. Later when your spouse finds out you cooked and asks in alarm “what flour did you use?” have a small panic wondering if the container you used was actually something like “cream of tarter” mislabeled.  

3. You do not have vegetable oil in the house, instead just find some oily things to add to the batter. Later when looking for popcorn for the kids find the vegetable oil buried in a cupboard.

4. You also have no sugar in the house. Kick yourself for not buying that egg nog last night as it has sugar, eggs AND milk in one and would come in useful right about now. Instead of sugar find some sweet things to add like honey, syrup, or diet pepsi.

5. Search the kitchen for baking powder three times. Note you have lots and lots of something called Arrowroot power and other unmarked containers of powders/liquids but nothing labeled baking powder. Wake spouse and ask where the baking powder is kept.  

6. The only vanilla extract in the house is a homemade version in a 64 oz. jar make by soaking vanilla sticks in 50oz of whisky for the last four months. Open the jar and grab the counter to steady yourself as the fumes are making your head spin. Assure yourself that the alcohol will probably cook off in the waffle maker, leaving your 2 & 4 year olds unaffected. 

7. Allow 4 year old to do all the stirring.

8. After the waffles are done note with delight that you don’t need to cut them, they snap apart easily like a graham cracker. Allow your 2 & 4 year olds to praise the waffles and how delicious they are, but don’t take a bite to try them yourself, instead scramble some eggs. Note with delight that your eggs also snap in half like a graham cracker.



Might I add, he's not too far from the truth here. I better make sure everything else is labeled.


Making Sense of our 'Sarah'

V at 13 weeks--AMAZING

We've been establishing rhythms.  New rhythms for the Fall as V returned to her preschool.  I'm learning how to sink back into the rhythms of running a home, caring for our girls, loving on Ben & finding time to refresh my soul. 

It's the rhythms of the chef knife cutting through garlic & onions that I find therapeutic at times like these.  It's the rhythms of two sisters playing with one another interchangeably as they enter the world of make-believe. It's in these rhythms where I find myself.  I say prayers of thanks as I eavesdrop into their world.  I tell Jesus how I need him more than ever as this wound heals over with a scar

As I was reading Sarah's heart on her miscarriages, she wrote, "Unless someone has experienced it, they can't understand. We feel so separate as we mourn. No one else really knew this baby but me because I was carrying her."  I can relate.  Maybe people don't know what to say.  Maybe people don't realize that I still have an open wound.  This loss will never go away, but in time, I see that Jesus will mend it & their will still be a scar. 

Cutting the eggplant, the squash, the garlic, I think & I pray.  I pray for grace & understanding to give to others, because they don't understand.  I pray for strength & honesty to share my heart, my hurt, & give others a guidepost on how to walk this with me (still figuring that last part out).  I think if I could explain it to those who haven't miscarried or lost a baby, this is how I would...

When I look at V & Tay, I'm blown out of the water of how amazing they are.  Their person, their heart & their minds are fascinating & altogether wonderful.  I get to know them.  My life is better for knowing them & to continue to see who they will become.  When we eat dinner as a family, Ben & I share looks, communicating how these little people have turned our world upside down & back--in the most phenomenal of ways.  And when I think about our baby who will never see this side of heaven, I get sad, because I don't get to know them. 

V called the baby "Sarah."  She doesn't know anyone named Sarah.  So we'll call her that.  Our Sarah doesn't get to giggle & make-believe with her sisters.  We don't get to know here & see how she adds to our family dynamic. Can you imagine not having the opportunity of knowing one of your children?  That's part of my hurt.

I do believe one day we will meet her.  One day we will see how glorious God is in creating her.  The day when we get to gather around the banqueting feast & there she'll be.  I imagine V will see her & know.  They'll both be seated next to the brussel sprouts enjoying them & V will call over Tay & they will laugh like they've never lost time.  Because one day, it's all going to be redeemed around a table.  That's how my heart begins to heal.


Someone Got a Haircut

V has tremendously long hair.  In fact, I would describe her overall hair is tremendous with her curls, her volume, her tangles from said curls.  My ability to give baths is not winning me mama of the year, simply because washing & brushing out curly hair is like whacking away blackberry bushes. 

After bath yesterday, V was crying & complaining about me brushing out the beast.  I replied, "Well, we can cut it."  Now, she likes having long hair.  She doesn't want it pulled back or even in a clip.  She affectionately calls it her "crazy hair" and says it with pride.  Yet, her response was, "Yes! I want you to cut it."  I asked a few couple times and she kept saying "yes." 


Here are before: (and wet curly hair is quite different from dry curly hair):


Here are after: (It might not look like much, but I think it was 4 inches or so)


Her responses: "Let's go to daddy's work to show him my new haircut!" "I think Teacher Gina is gonna like my new haircut!" When asked what her favorite part of the day was she said, "When daddy came home & said how beautiful my new haircut was." Affirms in me how blessed these girls are to have a daddy who tells them daily how they are beautiful inside & out.  And she sure is a beauty.


My Beauties, My Gifts

The braids, the orange, the curls, the sunshine all makes my heart sing in perfect unison.  These girls are gifts given to me.  I cherish the way V walks into our room in the morning snuggling her blankie standing looking upon me as she says, "Mornin' Mama!"  Her sweet morning snuggles sweetly saying, "Mama, I like you."

My Tayers sitting content in her bed with her little light on as she reads her cupcake cookbook.  Her special smiles just for me as she wakes up.  How she asks, "Mama, are you happy with me?," only for me to say, "Oh, of course I am.  I love you Tay."  Kiss after kiss.  Hug after hug.  

Being a mama to these girls is a gift.  Sometimes they make life spin in crazy mode.  And sometimes I want to run very far away.  But through & through, it's these little people that make my world more whole.  They shape me & redefine me as Kamille.  Not just Mama, but Kamille.  I am fortunate to know them.


Their giggles & play create story upon story in my soul. Their bond as sisters gives me chills to know they have one another.  Sure they have moments of screaming at one another, but as they walk down the stairs with pants on their head playing "Rapunzel" makes it all worth it.


I often stare at V with her chocolate brown eyes & soft curls in amazement, "How did she grow into such a beautiful big girl?"  Who will they become?  How can I stop this growing?  I can't.  I can try my hardest to lean into Jesus with each day, counting it as a gift.  Looking at these little girls as treasures & treating them as such.  As I ask & yearn for the fruit of gentleness.  To be slow to anger & rich in love toward them.  As I cling to gentle words that repel anger.  Oh Jesus, I want these virtues...this heart, in order to make a home that gives gifts back to these gifts.