Homemade Potato Chips

In the Microwave...

Ok wait, did that get the proper reaction? Let me try that again...

Homemade potato chips made IN THE MICROWAVE!!!

Yes! In the microwave!

This recipe is SO simple and so delicious that I apologize in advanced for getting you addicted...

I'm sorry.

NOT.

I mean, sure these are made from white potatoes (though you can also make a delicious sweet potato chip!) and sure they have some oil on them. But it's extra virgin olive oil. And virgin is good... you know. Purity rocks and all.

Go with it.

Anyway, these puppies are ready to enjoy in less than 10 minutes, you can make enough for a decent snack out of just one potato, and you don't have to feel guilty about ingesting all the preservatives and junk you find in the store bought variety.

It's a win win!


Microwave Potato Chips

Potatoes
Olive oil
Sea salt

If you have a mandoline, now is the time to get it out. Wash your potato and if it has any bad spots, cut them out now. Slice your potato as thinly as possible (for thin crispy chips) or about 1/8" thick for a good dip bearing chip.


(See my mandoline? I love this thing!! It makes slicing things a breeze!)

I did mine both ways and they were good either way!

Throw your potato slices into a small bowl and drizzle with olive oil and sea salt. Stir to coat evenly.



Coat a microwave safe plate with olive oil or cooking spray.



Place the potato slices on the plate in one layer. I had to do three batches to make them all.



Pop in the microwave for 2-3 minutes, or until brown looking.

If the chips look a little dry and the plate doesn't have oil left on it, spray the tops of the chips with more cooking spray (or rub with olive oil) before flipping. Flip the chips to the other side and microwave for another 2 minutes or until nice and crispy. The really brown ones are ridiculously good!

Remove from the microwave and place on a paper towel to cool off. They will get crispier when they cool.


(I had already eaten most of the chips when I realized I forgot to take a picture! Whoops! They are that good!)


If you want salt and vinegar chips, you can sprinkle on some vinegar while they cool. Yum


Enjoy!!!

Leila's Legacy... Looking Up.

When Leila was still alive, I was approached by someone I hadn't spoken to in about 6 years. She wanted to let me know that she had been working on a document in Leila's name.

You may already be confused. I apologize. I don't know how to explain something of this magnitude.

Okay. Let me start over and slow down.

So this woman that contacted me: we had met in high school through speech and debate. She was always very eloquent and focused, and VERY good at what she did.

It isn't surprising at all to me that she has pursued a career in politics. She currently works for the speaker of the house in Illinois.

Okay, so now that I explained that part, let's move on to the document.

A resolution. She wrote a resolution concerning premature birth in honor of Leila. Those words don't do her words justice, so I will paste the resolution for you to read yourself.

I hope as you read this, you feel what I felt. I felt purpose. I felt pride. I felt this overwhelming sense of "God's plan" shining through.

Maybe Leila's life was meant to inspire this very resolution. Maybe God is working through my long lost friend, and the state of Illinois, to spark something bigger.

It is my dearest wish that this resolution not only continue on in the state of Illinois, but that it can spread to other states to inspire the same conversation and improvement that is already happening in Illinois.

Thank you, to my friend, for letting Leila inspire you the way she inspired me. I hope you know how much this means to me, and so many other premie Mothers.



Please forgive the roughness of this copy. It was taken directly from the Illinois General Assembly website.




HR0094 LRB097 07105 GRL 48085 r

1 HOUSE RESOLUTION


2 WHEREAS, Premature birth is a serious and growing problem
3 that affects families from every walk of life and in every
4 corner of the country; and

5 WHEREAS, 12.8%, or one of every eight, of all babies born
6 in the United States are born prematurely; and

7 WHEREAS, Premature births have increased by 36% since the
8 early 1980s; and

9 WHEREAS, In the United States, prematurity/low birthweight
10 is the second leading cause of all infant deaths in the first
11 year of life and the leading cause of infant death among black
12 infants; and

13 WHEREAS, Premature babies who survive may suffer life-long
14 consequences, including cerebral palsy, mental retardation,
15 chronic lung disease, and vision and hearing loss; and

16 WHEREAS, Preterm birth and low birth weight are a
17 significant financial burden in health care; and

18 WHEREAS, The medical, educational, and lost of
19 productivity costs associated with preterm birth in the United


HR0094 - 2 - LRB097 07105 GRL 48085 r

1 States was at least $26 billion in 2005; and

2 WHEREAS, Low birth weight, especially in conjunction with
3 environmental stress, is associated with the development of
4 diabetes and other chronic diseases later in life; and

5 WHEREAS, It is a fact that pre-term infants are more likely
6 to have health problems that result in re-hospitalization; and

7 WHEREAS, The causes of premature births are not fully
8 understood; and

9 WHEREAS, The cause of approximately half of all preterm
10 births is completely unknown; and

11 WHEREAS, To reduce the rates of preterm labor and delivery,
12 more research and funding is needed on the underlying causes of
13 preterm delivery, the prevention of preterm birth so that
14 babies are born full-term, and treatments improving outcomes
15 for infants born prematurely; therefore, be it

16 RESOLVED, BY THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES OF THE
17 NINETY-SEVENTH GENERAL ASSEMBLY OF THE STATE OF ILLINOIS, that
18 we recognize activities and programs that promote awareness of
19 and solutions to the dangers of premature birth across the
20 United States; and be it further


HR0094 - 3 - LRB097 07105 GRL 48085 r

1 RESOLVED, That we designate the 16th of every month in 2011
2 as Premature Birth Prevention and Awareness Day in the State of
3 Illinois; and be it further

4 RESOLVED, That we encourage Congress to reauthorize the
5 PREEMIE Act, which is currently scheduled to expire at the end
6 of fiscal year 2011, to continue and enhance federal support
7 for research into the causes and prevention of premature birth
8 and to reduce infant mortality caused by prematurity; and be it
9 further

10 RESOLVED, That we dedicate this resolution to the memory of
11 Leilani Marie Decker and her courageous struggle; and be it
12 further

13 RESOLVED, That suitable copies of this resolution be
14 presented to the Governor, the Speaker and Minority Leader of
15 the Illinois House of Representatives, the President and
16 Minority Leader of the Illinois Senate, and the members of the
17 Illinois congressional delegation.

Yesterday Was Rough...

I wanted to write a post all day yesterday, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

Yesterday was rough.

Every day seems to have some significance to Leila's life for me, but yesterday was one of the worst yet.

Yesterday was supposed to have been my baby shower.

My awesome, fabulous, Hollywood inspired baby shower.

It was going to be a day all about us. I was going to be pampered, lavished with delicious food and silly games, I was supposed to be the center of attention (and Miss Leila, of course). My belly was going to be the guest of honor.

That belly.

The belly that, to my disbelief, is completely flat and gone now. Most women pray for this, spending hours watching what they eat and hauling themselves to the gym...

But I look at my flat belly, with it's ugly scar serving as my own personal tattoo, constantly reminding me of the way in which my daughter entered the world, and I feel sick to my stomach. It isn't supposed to be flat.

I am supposed to be 7 months pregnant. I am supposed to be waddling around with all the other preggos, rubbing my belly and gasping softly as Leila gives me a strong, reassuring, "I'm still here" kick.

But the kicks never really come. Sometimes I have "phantom" kicks. I swear I can feel her somersaulting in me. I expect to look down and see the crazy "belly dance" that I got to experience with my first born.

But when I look down, I see nothing.

And I cry.

Leila was quite the little belly gymnast. Even at only 4 months my belly (though not very big), was always in action. I am pretty sure she NEVER slept, which she proved during her life as well. When she was in the hospital the nurses and doctors kept explaining to us that her high level of activity was just unheard of. She should be sleeping 20 hours a day, yet she was ALWAYS moving. Her little eyes never opened, so we couldn't use that as an indicator to whether or not she was sleeping, but every time we came to visit, it seemed like she was always wide awake. Kicking and moving and reacting to our every word.

The day I was admitted to the hospital, two days before sweet Leila was born, she had been displaying some Olympic Gold worthy moves.

Constant somersaults.

I mean, some serious flips.

She just seemed so active and happy.

Even though each flip and turn literally made me sick to my stomach, I smiled every time. My baby was moving. She was healthy. It was a constant reminder to me that my baby was with me, and that she was going to be healthy.

I guess I should explain why that was so comforting to me.

If I haven't already wrote about this: the first 16 weeks of my pregnancy were spent with me worried sick. I was terrified that something horrible would happen and I would lose my precious angel.

I did everything I could to be extra cautious and careful. I ended up in the hospital 6 times during my pregnancy. I just couldn't put anything to chance. Nothing was worth losing my baby over.

It wasn't until about 4 months in to my pregnancy that I actually started to breathe more easily.

I felt her move.

It was like whenever I would start to worry again, Leila would give me a good strong kick and say "Here I am, Mommy! Don't you worry about me!"

She always seemed to know just what I needed.

I can't even put in to words how much I wanted my baby girl. Like any mother would, I dreamed about her constantly. I dreamed about the relationship she would have with her brother. I dreamed about how she would have Daddy wrapped around her finger the second she was born.

But that wasn't true.

She had Daddy wrapped around that finger the second he learned she was a girl.

Honestly, even before then, but the second it was confirmed she was a girl (we just knew from the start!) his heart was completely hers. A special "daddy and his baby girl" bond. He wanted his little daddy's girl more than anything.

And he was going to get her.

It's just the letting go part that still doesn't make sense to me.

I still can't understand how we could be given something so precious and perfect and just have it ripped away.

And yesterday, of all days, was the aching reminder that "this wasn't supposed to happen".

I am still supposed to be pregnant.

I am supposed to be happy.

Miserable with pregnancy, but blissfully happy.

But instead of playing "how big is Virginia's belly" games, and baby food testing, and baby themed word scrambles (which I have not yet lost one of!), and every other amazing game my dear friend Kaylee would have thought of...

Instead of those things, I spent the day mourning over my daughter. My heart literally breaking any time I even thought of anything remotely related to "baby".

I did, however, create a wildly successful appetizer recipe, which I will share later.

But right now, I am sharing with you a little piece of my heart.

The little piece that died the second my Leila's heart stopped beating.

That piece of my heart is trying so hard to figure out how to beat again. How to not be broken.

One way is through writing. Every keystroke is one closer to fixing me. It's my therapy. It's my release.

And now I have found another: crafts. But more about that later.

Right now I just want to say: thank you. Thank you for following me on my journey.

It is certainly an up and down ride.

Some days I feel like I am finally coming out of the dark tunnel... I can see the light, still pretty far away, but bright enough that I almost have to squint...

And then I take a turn even deeper in to the tunnel... And I have to start all over again.

And I know you are there with me at every turn, squinting when the light gets near, cheering that I can get closer to it, then struggling to see with me when it goes dark again.

It may not be the most eloquent of metaphors, but it's my metaphor.

You are my metaphorical passengers, so thank you for joining me on my ride.

The Downward Spiral

Normally when I sit down to write, it comes easily.

My fingers flick over the keys, my thoughts seem to connect directly to my fingertips, and out comes what I am feeling.

Today I stared at the blank screen for a long time... Not knowing what to say, not knowing how I feel. I am ashamed and embarrassed. I feel like I am failing at one of the few things that usually comes easily to me.

I have been crying off and on all day. I had a nice distraction: took Landon to the gym with two other girls and their boys.

They both have babies.

Beautiful, gorgeous babies.

One is an adorable chunky monkey of a little boy.

The other is a breathtakingly gorgeous little girl. I can barely bring myself to look at her because she reminds me of Leila so much. A much bigger version of Leila, but the same dark coloring and features, though I can't ever be sure about the eyes, since I never saw Leila's eyes.

I love my friends: they are so wonderful and they care about me so much, but this numbness inside of me makes me feel socially awkward and inhuman. I wonder why any one would want to torture themselves by being around miserable old me. I feel sorry for the burden my friends have been given.

I can only pray that if one of my friends ever needs me the way I have needed them, that I can show even a fraction of the love and support I have been shown.

I realize that most of my thoughts today haven't been fully strung together. I guess it's mainly because I can't grab onto one and hold it down long enough to know what I am truly thinking. My mind is cycling through a million thoughts rushing through my head.

I keep going back to my pregnancy.

My perfect, strong, stubborn little girl.

My pregnancy was extremely difficult and very hard on my body, but Miss Leila... she was such a fighter! I was taken to the emergency room about 6 times throughout my pregnancy. Twice for seizures (one ended up being dehydration related), once for intense pain, once for contractions (at 18 weeks), and I can't remember the other two reasons. I was so terrified my entire pregnancy that I never let anything go unnoticed. I am sure my doctors thought I was crazy, but I was determined that I was going to have a perfect and healthy baby, no matter what it took.

She was perfect.

She was healthy, in the womb.

But four months early is too much for a baby, and she succumbed to this world.

I replay everything over and over in my head. She was so strong, she was so perfect. She was born too early.

What did I do wrong? I ate healthy, I remained moderately active, I took my prenatals, I listened to my doctor, I went to my weekly (yes weekly, from the very start I was seen every week), appointments, I didn't drink caffeine (except for the occasional latte now and again, which my doc said was completely fine), I wasn't around smoke, didn't smoke (never have anyway so that was easy), I didn't drink alcohol. I did everything by the book.

Everything.

I still failed.

Something, like writing, that is supposed to just come naturally to me, and it didn't. It just... slipped away from me. My body failed at being a good mother. My body failed her.

I failed her.

And now I am just falling. Constantly falling... Momentarily time freezes and I feel like things might turn so I can start "falling up" and get back on my feet... But then a baby cries, or I see an outfit I had bought one of for Leila on another baby, or I have to explain what happened, or I look in the mirror and hate what I see... and I start falling again.

But there is more to this story... There is an "up"... And it's all Leila. It's all her. It always was. She was always so amazing, before her life, and after it. She is a miracle. And next, I will tell you more about her legacy.

I Woke Up Today...

Yesterday was unbearable.

It was awful.

It was probably up there with the worst days since Leila passed away.

I went to bed last night crying and wishing all the pain would just go away and I could go back to being pregnant and excited.

My shower was supposed to be this Saturday. I am supposed to be excited and preparing for my precious baby girl...

I am not supposed to be mourning her.

Yesterday we had to relive the pain of losing her all over again. We had to retrace all the mistakes made that led to her early arrival. It was excruciatingly unbearable.

I don't wish this on my worst enemy. I am not a person that wishes pain on people... But apparently people wish pain on me. When I got home some horrible woman had emailed me making up rumors about my husband. It was disgusting. Who does that? Who kicks someone when they are down? Thank God that I actually trust my husband, or it may have actually done damage.

Needless to say, yesterday was rough.

I went to bed last night miserable and at a very low point...

But eventually the tears stopped coming and I fell asleep. And then, something incredible happened:

I woke up today.

And the sun was shining. And my son was smiling. And I had made it through another awful day.

You know what, so far, today has been better.

I Don't Wanna...

I think I have been avoiding thinking into the future. I simply try and make it through each day as best I can.

But for the first time, today I thought about the future. About all of the plans we had altered to accommodate our new life with our sweet Leila in the picture... I was reading the heartbreaking blog of a fellow mommy to an angel, and she talked about seeing Easter things in a store and realizing that her daughter was missing her first Easter...

And the tears started coming...

All I could think about was Christmas. How am I going to get through Christmas with my husband deployed and my daughter... dead... It will just be me and Landon. I am sure we will go back home for Christmas, so we won't really be alone, but Christmas 2010 was such a joyous time: Leila had her own huge stack of presents and she wasn't even born yet! We had no idea she would be born just three weeks later, when she wasn't due to be born until May 18, 2011...

Life is so cruel.

I feel like a little kid throwing a temper tantrum, I just want to scream "IT'S NOT FAIR!"

Because it's not. I would gladly trade places with my Leila. I wish she could be alive and on her way to recovery. Every holiday is just going to ache with the emptiness she left in my life.

I hate feeling empty.

Fighting the Feeling...

Of jealousy.

I said it.

I am now feeling jealousy. Horrible, awful, deep down inside my gut, green-eyed-monster jealousy.

I hate it.

I am not by nature a jealous person. Not at all. I have always been very content with my life, even with its ups and downs... I have endured every test and climbed every mountain without much complaint. I have watched those around me succeed with little effort, or fail miserably and still come out better than me on the other side, and still marched on. Because I am forever an optimist, forever believing that what I have, my life, is a wonderful gift and that I am so lucky for everything in it.

I don't think I can do that anymore.

All I can think about is what ISN'T in my life. How empty my heart feels. How empty I, quite literally feel. I unintentionally torture myself with updates of "how far along" I am in my pregnancy, only to be reminded that I am no longer pregnant... and that my daughter is no longer alive. I am supposed to be carrying this precious life. I am supposed to be excited and happy and ready to welcome her with open arms. To cradle her and snuggle her and smell her hair and her sweet baby breath and nurse her and dress her up and show her off.

But I am empty.

I have no baby to offer for any of those roles.

No Leila to welcome, no Leila to cradle...

Just emptiness.

Usually, when I am going through a rough spot in my life, I can still find this never ending supply of positivity and joy for other's good fortunes. I never let my circumstances stop me from being happy for others. I am trying so hard to continue that part of me, but I can't help but ache with jealousy from every pore when I see a new mom with her baby. When I hear about someone finding out they are pregnant, or what they are having, or talking about their baby.

I love babies.

I love ALL babies.

I do not discriminate against baby love of any kind.

Babies are incredible, amazing, innocent, loving, beautiful little people, and I can't help but smile when I am around them. They mend my heart, while breaking it all over again at the same time.

It's a bizarre experience.

But about the jealousy: I don't know why I am all of a sudden plagued with this emotion. It's a new one to me, even since Leila's passing, I have just begun to feel it over the past couple of days. I don't like having an ugly emotion in me. I wish I could control it, but I am just so jealous of those who have their children. Who don't have to walk through life as the "mother of an angel".

I truly believe that I am one, though. The mother of an angel, that is. It may sound corny, but even when she was alive, she was truly an angel, and in her death she has changed the lives of so many people, brought so many people closer to God, and affected the world in such a profound way... I can honestly say I think she is the closest anyone could ever come to meeting an angel in this life.

But I would give anything to have her here. To not have to wait. I think one of the things that makes it all worse for me is seeing women, especially those portrayed on certain TV reality shows, that are able to get pregnant and have perfectly healthy babies, who don't really seem to want them. If I could rescue every baby that is born into a world without truly loving and devoted parents, I would in a heartbeat...

But I digress...

I guess there isn't much more for me to say about this new emotion... I have been fighting the crap out of it. I don't know if it's a part of the "Grieving Process" or if it's a "normal" feeling, but it makes me feel inhuman. I don't want to be bitter. I don't want to be "the mother of the baby that died"... But you can't fight reality...

If I could, well...

I would fight like hell.