Chili Cornbread Casserole Recipe

Trisha Yearwood's Chili Cornbread Casserole (Amy approved)

INGREDIENTS:

1 tablespoon vegetable oil

1 medium onion, chopped

1 ½ pounds lean ground beef

1 ½ cups salsa

1 twelve ounce bag frozen whole-kernel corn, thawed

¼ cup vegetable broth

2 tablespoons chili powder

1 teaspoon ground cumin

salt and pepper

3 eight ounce boxes Jiffy cornbread mix

1 ½ cups whole milk

1 cup shredded chedder cheese

¼ cup sour cream

DIRECTIONS:

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.

In a large skillet over medium heat, heat the oil until shimmering.  Add the onion and sauté until soft, about 5 minutes.  Add ground beef to the onion and sauté until browned and cooked through, 8-10 minutes.  Drain any excess fat.  Stir in the salsa, corn, vegetable broth, chili powder, cumin, salt and pepper.  Transfer the mixture to a 9x13-inch baking dish, smoothing into an even layer.

In a large bowl, mix together the corn muffin mix with about 1 ½ cups milk, or just enough to make it easy to spread.  Spread it thinly over the chili mixture.  Bake until browned on top, 30-35 minutes.  Remove from the oven and set aside for 10 minutes to allow casserole to set.  Top with cheese and sour cream before serving.

Establishing a Routine

It took several days to get into a routine and figure out what she likes to eat and what she doesn’t, what form of discipline she responds to…and what she doesn’t, etc.  Ha!  We got the nighttime routine down first.  We (still) end the night with a bath, reading a book of her choice in the rocking chair, and then watching one tv show.  She usually chooses Sofia the First, Peppa Pig, or Doc McStuffins.  Those seem to be her favorites.  I try to have her in bed by 8:00 every night, although some nights we don’t make it. The first few nights were rough as far as sleeping.  She would beg me to sleep in the bed with her, but I couldn’t due to DHR regulations.  So, she would wake up every night and realize she was in the room alone and call out for me.  Thankfully, I just had to go in there, assure her I was in the room next door, and she would go right back to sleep. I will say, although I understand, I think that rule is a little strict.  For a barely four year old to be expected to sleep in a room alone in a strange place is a lot to ask, in my opinion.  I felt sorry for her and wanted so badly to comfort her.  I tried my best and thankfully, after a week or so, things got much easier.  She was getting used to her surroundings and more comfortable sleeping in her room. 

Mornings are hard.  She is NOT a morning person, just like me.  She would much rather stay up late at night and sleep late in the mornings.  So, while it’s nice to be able to get ready for school without having to entertain her or worry about what she’s doing, it’s difficult to wake her up and force her to get ready for school.  Other than waking her up, I have to say that our mornings are (usually) pretty stress free.  I try to plan what she’s going to wear and set it out.  I choose my clothes and most of the time go ahead and iron them, as well as pack my lunch the night before.  She eats breakfast at school, so it’s super nice not to have to worry about feeding her before we leave.  It takes about 10-15 minutes to get her ready, brush her teeth, and fix her hair.  We are out the door most mornings by 7:30 or earlier.

Discipline has been tricky.  Luckily, she is really well behaved and very rarely has to be punished for misbehavior.  I'm not allowed to spank, so I've had to find other avenues to help her learn that every action comes with consequences.  I had originally thought time out would be a good option, but read that children that have been left alone before or neglected would relive the trauma of those times when placed alone for discipline.  I definitely don't want to do that.  So, I decided started a marble jar in which she earned marbles for sleeping all night in her bed, putting her clothes in her laundry basket, picking up her room, etc.  When she earned all the marbles, she would get a toy or some sort of treat.  I would have her remove marbles when she disobeyed or didn't do what I asked.  At first, removing a marble was traumatic for her.  She would have a complete meltdown.  It gradually got better, but I think the time of the marbles has come and gone.  She isn't interested in putting marbles in her jar any longer.  Now, I have to take away the privilege of reading a book or watching a show before bed.  That seems to work for now, because she really loves doing both.  I'm assuming I'll have to modify that discipline plan at some point, too.  For now, it works.

I’m blessed that she’s a GREAT eater.  She’s itty bitty, but girlfriend can eat!  Her favorites are pizza, chicken nuggets, hashbrowns (the round, little ones) taco soup, chips and cheese dip, and milk.  Disclaimer:  I PROMISE this junk isn’t all she eats.  They just happen to be what she likes most.  (Don’t we all.)

She has adjusted amazingly well.  She visits with her family weekly (even though her parents may or may not show up).  She misses them and loves them dearly, but she is SO happy.  She’s loved playing with Sarah Taylor and Finn, and immediately started calling my mom “Mimi.”  She really enjoys class at church, and she’s made lots of friends there.  She and Gracie are BFFs, she fits in well with Boston, Rhett, Ryder, and Rogan.  She’s just a perfect fit for me and my life.

I'm a PARENT!

The day after A came to live with me, we had a hearing in which the judge would decide if it was necessary for her to have been removed from the home.  Depending on the verdict, she would either stay with me or go to a relative placement.  I was super nervous.  It’s a strange feeling walking into a courthouse with someone else’s child, knowing they are about to fight for her and petition the court for her back.  I didn’t know what they looked like or who they were, yet I was taking care of what was sure to be most precious to them.  A lady led me straight to a door, and when I walked in I was at the front of the actual courtroom.  I assumed I wouldn’t be a part of the actual hearing, but was needed to bring A in case she was returned to her family.  That definitely wasn’t the case.  A social worker took her to a room to play while the court proceedings got underway.  The attorney told me I was on the list of those allowed to be inside the room as the hearings took place.  I watched as the sheriff walked in, we stood as the judge walked in with her black robe, and I was as nervous as I would have been had I been bungee jumping off the Empire State Building.  I listened as both parties went back and forth pleading their case to the judge.  Thankfully, she agreed that it was in A’s best interest to stay in custody of DHR and return home with me.  I was told she would be with me for 4-6 weeks.

Once court was dismissed, they whisked us away through a staircase at the back of the building to avoid seeing any family members as we were exiting.  I was told I needed to take A to DHR immediately and meet the social worker, as well as some members of her family and their attorney to devise a plan for the coming weeks.  This is called an ISP meeting.  I met A’s mom.  She’s really nice, and I can tell that she loves her dearly.  She asked if she could hug me, which made us both emotional.  She thanked me for taking care of her daughter and told me how much she loved her.  She gave me numerous reasons she was a fit parent and told me she was going to do whatever she had to in order to get well and bring A home.  I told her I wasn’t there to judge her and promised I would love her child until she was well enough to do it again herself.   We discussed goals for her and what was expected of her in order to regain custody, and we planned times for weekly family visitation.  I expected a social worker to walk us out and accompany me as A said goodbye to her family.  That was an awkward situation to witness for sure.  What made it even more awkward was that when we walked out of the building, A chose to hold me hand instead of her mom’s.  I could tell her mom was visibly upset, then she put her hand on my shoulder and said, “now don’t let her get attached to you.”  How was I to respond to that?  I don’t even remember what I said.  She hugged her family and got in my car just as if she were going to see them again in an hour.  I just couldn’t believe how well she was handling such a terrible and sad situation. 

We went to lunch after the meeting.  It was surreal looking at such a precious little girl, knowing I was her foster mom.  I was a PARENT!  Biological or not, I was her sole provider, her comforter, her nurturer, her everything for the next undisclosed amount of time.  I’m telling you- I don’t think I’d ever felt more fulfilled in my life.

Our First Day

“She’s precious.”  That’s the description I got on the phone of the little girl that needed a placement.  This all happened so suddenly.  Just hours before, I was working through finding out the process with E was going to be long, as well as coming to grips with the probability that God more than likely had another plan for me.  I had mixed feelings.  I knew deep down I needed to move forward, but at the same time, I felt like I was letting E down in allowing another child to be placed with me.  There were so many things running around in my head as I heard the social worker say, “She just turned four years old.  She has blonde hair and blue eyes.  She doesn’t have any behavioral or medical issues.  I think she would be a perfect fit for you.”   I didn’t have many other details.  I wasn’t sure what brought her to me other than drugs, and I wasn’t sure how long I would have her.  Even so, after hearing all these things, it just all of a sudden seemed clear.  I knew this was the next step in my fostering process.  I said yes.  And a few short hours later, she arrived at my doorstep.

To say I was nervous was an understatement.  I had been preparing for this moment for months, but the knowledge it was finally happening was enough to make my heart feel like it was beating out of my chest.  I was pacing back and forth in the kitchen watching out the window for a car to pull in my driveway.  Finally, one did.  I watched as the car door opened and the light inside the car came on.  I could see her in the back seat, dressed in a navy and pink outfit with sparkly little black boots.  She was adorable.  She didn’t even seem scared.  She was extremely talkative.  She was laughing and asking about what toys I had.  I was absolutely dumbfounded by how well she seemed to have transitioned, even after the first few minutes.  The social worker only stayed a short time, then I was left alone with little “A.”  We went upstairs so I could show her around.  She immediately began looking through the miniscule amount of toys I had accumulated and found something to play with.  We sang songs, fingerpainted, and pretty much did whatever she asked to do.  I finally got her to sleep, then went to bed in awe.  How many months had I spent taking classes, completing paperwork, painting a bedroom, decorating it….all for this.  It was finally happening!  I don’t know how long it took me to fall asleep.  I was nervous about the next day and what I would find out in court.  But all I knew at that moment was how happy I was that I said, “YES!”

*Follow-up with E: Less than two weeks after I took A, my friend that was fostering E told me she was pregnant.  Because of the stress she was under with E’s behavior and family situation, as well as a medical condition, she was requesting that E be placed with another family.  At that time, I didn’t even have a choice.  There was no way I could parent two foster children alone…not right now, anyway.  I was sad.  But mostly, I was relieved.  I thought back to when my wise friend told me to seek peace and God would make it abundantly clear what I should do.  My, how she was right. 

 I felt like God unfolded my story just as HE wanted it.  It definitely wasn’t my plan a month before, but He changed things.  I’m so glad He did.