My dad and Pam came to visit us last weekend. They stayed for 5 days and we had a ball. Hanging out at the pool, Spikes game, bowling, and lots of eating--we were tired when they left. But it was a really fun visit.
In this economy, having a job is a very good thing, and having a good job you like in a great town full of wonderful friends is a fantastic thing. But even so, I wish we were closer to home.
Maybe we could just erase Ohio, Illinois and Indiana? Or perhaps one of those Chunnel things under the Great Lakes? (OK, maybe not. Just the thought of that kind of terrifies me.)
Now we're saving our pennies again. We'll need a lot of them. Plans are in the works for a trip back to North Dakota for Christmas. (Yes, we know what the weather's like there that time of year. We can handle it.)
Monday, August 30, 2010
Grandpa Ron meets Anya
Sunday, August 22, 2010
What Will I Be?
During the nightly tuck-in:
"Mommy, why you are tucking me in?"
"Because I love tucking you in."
"When I'm a big girl, what will I do?"
"I'll tuck you in, as long as you want. And when you don't want me to tuck you in, I won't, but after you fall asleep I'll sneak in and give you a kiss anyway."
"Mommy, when I'm a big girl, what will I be?"
"What do you want to be?"
"Five?"
"OK, you can be five."
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Sun, here are your orders.
Her window cling sun shade proves too tempting and she begins peeling it off. Of course, then she can't get it back on. "Mommy! Mommy! I need help! My shade is falling!"
"I can't help you now. I'm driving. You'll have to wait until we get home."
The sun shines in the window and hits her face. Arms raised, she gives it the what-for.
"ENOUGH with the shining!"
(I burst out laughing. Then she did, too.)
Thursday, August 05, 2010
"Mom!!! She SMILED at me!!!"
She still checks on her first thing in the morning, before saying hello to us. As I sit checking facebook at night, I hear her get out of bed, and watch as the video monitor goes all wonky when she leans over Anya's bassinet for one last look.
"Rowan!!! Get OFF her!!!" I must yell that fifty times a day. Yesterday, she even knocked the bouncy chair backwards by leaning over it. Anya was squalling like a cat in a rain barrel. "I was just giving her some love!!!" I know, I know. "Honey, just love her a bit more gently, OK?"
She loves her sister. And now she's starting to see: her sister loves her, too.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Swinging
It's been a hot summer. Where the usual weather for our town is pleasant and in the 70's for all but one week of summer, with plenty of rain to make the long mountain a lush, green-carpeted hill to the west, this year we've seen 90's nearly every week, and lots of humidity, though little rain. The grass is brown and patchy, prickling your feet when you run through it, and the new rain boots sit waiting for some action. Trips to the park are frequent, but short. The heat just gets to you, sending you home on the hunt for lemonade and a nap.
Rowan's reaching the point where her naps are getting in the way. Though many of her friends no longer take them, she still will go down for two or three hours in the afternoon. Where a few months ago she could still fall asleep at 8:30 and stay in bed for 12 hours, now she is having more and more trouble falling asleep at night. We're hearing about "Monsters" in her room, and even the elaborate ritual of curtain cracking, night light illuminating, "Jesus Loves Me" music box winding, "Monster Spray" spritzing, and prayer saying isn't cutting it. When her dad was out of town, it got even worse. Tuesday night, she finally succumbed to sleep at 11:45 PM, on a little bed she made for herself directly under the overhead light in the hallway. I woke her gently 15 minutes later, leading her into my room to sleep on her dad's side of our big bed, where no monsters could get her. "Thanks, Mommy," she said, falling asleep again as she bent to pick up her lovey or doudou, a security blanket known as "Cover Blanket". Face down, bum high in the air, she snored into the carpet until I lifted her under her arms and led her into the bedroom.
When he came home, her dad was able to help, laying down with her at 8:30, snuggled between the bears, Groovy Girls, babies, stuffed monster toys ("But they're nice monsters, Mommy!"), a red Chevy Impala and the porcelain music box she likes to sleep with on her pillow, close to her ear. We're glad we've got a double bed in her room, for nights like this.
As I type this, she's gone up for an afternoon snooze, sweaty and sticky with sunscreen. I'll wake her this time, after an hour or so. With a kiss.
Monday, July 19, 2010
What she doesn't like about Jesus
"So, you're going to go to Bible school next week!"
"What will I do there?"
"Hear stories, do crafts, play games, sing songs..."
"What else?"
"Learn about Jesus! He's a pretty awesome guy, right?"
"Yeah," she says. "But I don't like his hair!"
Saturday, July 17, 2010
She is so much cooler than I ever will be
Who could resist putting a 3-year old in an AC/DC t-shirt? Not me. I am soooooooo Target's demographic.
BTW, the app that did the effect is FXCamera for Droid. We had a ball playing with it.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Bonds
Our first little girl was so much. She changed us, from a couple into a family of three, from marrieds into marrieds with kids, from people into parents. She was a challenge from day one, and never let us forget who was in control. One hundred percent her own person, she let us know her when she was ready. She was nothing we expected, always a surprise. Never easy.
So many parents say they bonded with their child before they even left the hospital. An instant link, stronger than they ever thought possible.
It didn't work that way for me, the first time. It took longer than I thought it should have, months rather than minutes. I felt terribly guilty for that. But though it was a slower process, the bond is strong, deep, lasting. Enmeshed. Now I can't imagine a world without her, a time without her, as if she was always there, before.
And the second time, it's different again.
The instant bond, it happened. The moment she was in my arms, she was mine and I knew her. The glow was instantaneous. I slipped into the old routines, the ones so hard won, broken in and comfortable. The easy baby they all talk about: zen, calm, predictable. A delight, a snuggler, smiling and relaxed.
Perhaps it's partly due to confidence, a knowledge of my own parenting abilities, or simple genetics, but whatever it is, this time it is easier. This time, the feelings of guilt are for the relief I feel, the ease I didn't have with my first baby. But it is what it is. Every moment with Rowan was worth it, and every moment with Anya is, too. They are just different.
As I typed this, Rowan came down the stairs in her favorite pink nightgown, fuzzy and worn. She sat on the floor next to her sister's bouncy chair, hugged her, and serenaded her with "I love you, a bushel and a peck!" She then came to me, and sang it again, hugging me around my "pretty neck", and ending with a big kiss.
I am so very blessed.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Dimple!
She's changing so quickly. Gaining weight, outgrowing her newborn clothes, and even some 0-3 month ones, holding her head up and making her voice heard. She's bigger than her sister and has a very different personality, though she looks so much like her. Anya loves Devo, long walks outside, warm baths, and snuggling. She hates her car seat with a passion, and for some reason, cucumbers make her poo green. She still nurses like a champ, and is a great sleeper, though not quite as much during the day as she used to (but still sleeps well at night, so I am not complaining!) Her right cheek has a little dimple that up until now has only been visible while she's nursing. I was thrilled to pull up this photo in iPhoto and find it there for all to see.
With the second one, there are never as many photos. Too busy taking care of two little miracles--picture time gets taken over by juice-fetching, bottom wiping, and tea party having. Hopefully, I can sneak in a few here and there, though. These are moments I do not want to forget.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
I finally admit it. I am no longer a size 8.
Over the past few weeks, in stolen moments, I have been going through my closet and purging things that are worn out, out of style, too short, too tight, or too uncomfortable. Many items came from my teaching days before we moved to France, so they were pretty ancient, and unlikely to be worn again. The entire trunk of our car is full of bags of clothes and shoes on the way to Goodwill. And honestly, I'm sure there is more that should be in there, but I just got to the point where I needed the process to be done.
And when it was, I still had little to wear. The closet is full of clothes, but there were very few pants or skirts that I could fit into and I liked. But I'm trying to be a grown up. It's time to accept it. I've had 2 children, and I have never had abs of steel, even before my babies grew under them. My clothes just don't fit the same, and may never again. And that's OK. Our daughters are worth that price.
I bought two new pairs of pants the other day. I don't like the numbers on the tag, but I like the way they fit. I like being able to breathe. I like the confidence I have when I know I look good again. And I'm worth it, too.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Hero
I may not be a big fan of amusement parks, weird characters in giant suits, and souvenir shops, but the joy and wonder on her face when she saw Kai Lan was worth the admission price. So glad that Nickelodeon now sponsors the park at the Mall of America.
Guess we will be going to Disneyland at some point after all.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Catch Up
You're probably wondering where I've been. Sorry about that.
It's been a busy 5 weeks chez nous. Anya is a dream--she sleeps well at night, takes long naps during the day, and her fussy period is really nothing compared to the colic we dealt with when Rowan was little. Rowan is loving being a big sister, and is a great help to me. She is growing up so fast, and seems to have turned from a baby to a girl overnight. Though she hasn't gained a pound, she seems heavier, denser, and bonier all at the same time and her vocabulary and imagination have grown in leaps and bounds. While serving dinner at her restaurant (sandbox), she'll ask us what we'd like to eat. "Well, actually," she'll say, "we don't have cappucino but we do have lemonade. Would you like some pancakes or do you want a hot dog?"
I am trying to juggle both of them as well as keeping up with life as we know it. I'm not always succeeding, but with 2 kids, I think the fact that I'm not completely blowing it is success in its own right. The house may not be quite as clean as I'd like it, but the chances are that won't happen ever in my lifetime anyway, so I'd rather spend the time gluing sequins on foam butterflies with Rowan, and holding my little Anya in my arms. We've been very blessed with friends who've dropped off meals for us, making our first weeks with our two girls so much easier.
Dr. B's folks visited us for a week at the beginning of June, and during that time we had Anya baptized and threw a birthday party for Rowan. Anya's baptism was a rather last-minute thing, but I managed to order a cake (which was awesome--Wegman's rocks) and we took a few pictures. The last day of their visit was Rowan's third birthday, and we'd planned a party for about 35 adults and kids at a local park. Unfortunately, that was the one day of the week that wasn't 75 and sunny. Yep. Pouring rain and 60 all day. We had reserved the shelter, though, so we persevered. The kids played in the rain and the mud and generally had a blast, the adults ate burgers and talked, the kids played games and everyone had cake. It was so much fun, and probably wouldn't have been any better in the sunshine, if only for the comic relief of Rowan constantly pulling up her pants as they sagged below her tush, wet and muddy. Again, we took a few more pictures. After Dr. B's folks left for the long drive back to North Dakota, I let Rowan open her presents from her other grandparents, knowing she'd be sad and craving the attention she got from them. Brilliant plan, or so I thought. You'll never guess what they got her. *head desk*
So this week we've been catching up. Trying to get more organized and keep up with housework and laundry, running errands, going to the library, a trip to the pool. We've restarted our afternoon walks (not possible during the last month of pregnancy), and my clothes are starting to fit a little better (though still not great, but honestly I needed some new summer things anyway). We're finding our new routine, different with two kids than one.
And tomorrow we throw a wrench in the works again, but a good one. We'll be flying off to Minneapolis--our first big family trip! We're going for the weekend to meet Dr. B's brother's family and his parents. We haven't seen the Montana Brownsons in 2 years, so we are excited to spend some time with them, and hopefully will see my sis and another friend briefly as well. It'll be a very short trip, but jam-packed. We plan to go to Valleyfair and Rowan is looking forward to tea at American Girl place in the MOA with her cousins. Then we'll be home again, and anticipating visits from my dad and his wife, and from my sister and her husband later this summer.
And I hope that when we get back I'll have more time to post here, and more than just "this is what we did" posts. I make no promises, though. There are a lot of sequins that need gluing.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Saturday, June 05, 2010
Paint Joy: Rowan, during Anya's audio test
Smart phones + kids' apps + toddlers= Good thing.
What are your favorite kids' apps?
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Saturday, May 22, 2010
First thing in the morning
People warned me. Jealousy, they said. She's not the star of the show anymore. She'll regress. She'll struggle.
Thankfully, they haven't been proven right (yet). Rowan is so in love with her sister, she often forgets everyone else. First thing in the morning, she wants to greet her, kiss her, hug her, and hold her. Twice she has requested that her dad take her bed and she sleeps in with me and her sister in the pack and play bassinet at the side of the bed. Her eyes open, and she turns to greet "her baby" before even saying a word to me. When Anya cries (which is blissfully rare), Rowan tries everything her little almost-3-year-old mind can think of to soothe her and then runs to me in desperation, "I don't know how to get her to stop, Mama! She's crying!!!"
And I've finally found a way to get her to pose for pictures willingly, and with truly genuine smiles. Well, some of the time anyway. (More to come from the real camera soon.)
Friday, May 14, 2010
Anya Genevieve
Birthday May 13, 2010, 2:08 AM.
7 lbs. 14 oz., 20.5 inches long.
A beautiful gift from God.
Perfect, beautiful, calm and sweet. Her big sister adores her! Her dad is already suffering from the sleep deprivation. (Wimp. Ha.) He's going to get her sis and dog today, and take them home for one night while I stay in the hospital with the baby. Before she was born, he was incensed by the idea that they might kick him out of our room at night. (Officially, dads are supposed to leave at 9, but it's not enforced.) Today, his tune has changed and he wants to sleep in his own bed.
She and I will come home tomorrow. Until then, I'm taking advantage of having a full staff, personal chef, and free Wifi. And complete control of the thermostat. (Plastic beds are hot.)
Welcome to the world, Baby Girl. We are so thrilled you've joined us. Thank God that you are healthy and perfect--we are so very blessed.
Monday, May 10, 2010
"Mom, I'm sorry you're so mad."
Confession: I think I have PTSD for colic. Is that possible? (Please God. This one? No colic, OK?) My hunch is there won't be colic. But I've been wrong before. And I'm scared of the colic. It was so bad, really. Colic sucks.
Another confession: I spent about an hour alone in bed Saturday night crying because I miss my mom. It's been twelve years now. I wish she was here. I know she's watching, and she's proud of me, but I wish I could talk to her. She totally would have helped with the slipcover. And my freezer would be full of homemade food, not Wegman's premade (which is good, but still.)
It was Mother's Day on Sunday. Rowan kept saying, "Happy Murz Day!" We went out to brunch, and our server forgot to put in our food order and she cried. We got our brunch for free. It was really good, even though we didn't eat until 3. I ordered dessert. For supper, I had more ice cream.
Today I burned through the house putting crap away and being mad at everyone who left their crap out and cleaning and finishing slip-covering the chair and changing my pants three times because they were all falling down. Apparently, my hips are spreading even more. Even my undies are too tight. This sucks. I had to do laundry because I only have a couple of things that are comfortable to wear right now.
I got the bathroom upstairs reloaded after Dr. B painted it yesterday, and cleaned it, and got all the painting stuff put away again. If I'm not in labor, tomorrow I'll clean the downstairs one. Vacuuming is done, chest and bassinet are moved, Rowan's room is fairly clean, clothes are put away, one more load of laundry is done (not folded, though). Dishes are done, kitchen is fairly neat, chair is finished, sewing crap is put away. Extra junk is up in the attic. Patio is swept (50 mph winds left piles of leaves and sticks everywhere. It really was necessary, I swear.)
Blogging, check. Boring, rambling, yes. Sorry about that. This is how my brain works right now.
Tonight, Dr. B ordered me to call his mom. I did. I complained about some of the stuff he's been telling me lately and she laughed at him and made me feel better. I love having her for an ally.
Here's an example, 20 hours after his last final exam was graded and grades were turned in, he complained of "that anxious feeling when I don't have a project!" So I bought paint and told him to paint the bathroom, which I've been asking for going on 3 years now. His response? "I don't like doing other people's projects!"
Huh. I don't much like being pregnant. You do it.
Or your laundry. Or cleaning your toilets. Or picking up your shoes every stinking day.
His mom laughed and laughed. And swore she taught him better, but she was pretty sure it's a B man thing, because his dad does the same thing.
So during our phone conversation (probably when he realized she was totally backing me up), he took the dog for a really long walk. I got the house half vacuumed before he got home. Then he went upstairs and put the stuff in the attic that I had asked him to do 2 weeks ago. He noticed I'd moved the heavy cedar chest, and he said, "Bootsie's coming soon. You've got a lot more strength tonight than you have had in a long time."
Not necessarily. I think I just have a lot less patience.
We'll see... the next time you hear from me, it might just be good news. Here's hoping.
Saturday, May 01, 2010
Nestorama!!! Now! With Upholstering!!!
I called the doc about her, um, blockage issues and got her started on Miralax. Glad she can't read or she'd be mortified that I am telling the internet even more about her poop. Things are much easier now, though the potty training is completely gone. Oh well. I give up. Now is apparently not the time, and she is not ready to be done. So fine. She's not. Sigh.
I have packed her bag and started mine (though there are so few things that fit me right now, I think I'll have to wait with a list on top until the moment labor starts to finish.) Laundry is fairly caught up. Little cleaning projects have been happening. Yard sale stuff is gone to the church. Baby stuff is down from the attic, the infant car seat is waiting in the hall, and we are just waiting on the pick up of our new dresser to finish putting all Rowan's and Bootsie's stuff in the right places. Just in case, I culled it down to a few weeks worth and gave them each 3 drawers of Rowan's dresser for now, and left the big plastic boxes stacked in her room. Dr. B hung the colorful lanterns high over the crib (Rowan destroyed her mobile), and the crib skirt is ironed and in place. (My mother would be proud. I never iron anything anymore.) Sheets are waiting--I don't want them to get dusty. Batteries have been bought, though need to be inserted in all the various battery-needing things. I have confirmed Rowan's and Lucy's caretakers, and Rowan got a new sleeping bag for her first big sleepover. She's very excited.
Dr. B's HoneyDo list is still there, but all I can do is bug him about it. Since school is wrapping up, hopefully he'll get on the stick ASAP. He promised to shampoo the carpets this weekend, pick up the dresser (I may put it together, I haven't asked him yet.) He also promised to shave the dog, which I hate doing, but I did buy a new trimmer kit, so hoping it works. If he doesn't do it soon, I'll take her in to the vet and have it done. I still want him to paint our bathroom, but would be surprised if it got done in time. He still has finals and grades to deal with. I begged off the boring banquet last night--don't know if this was the best idea as Rowan's lack of a nap also seemed to have affected her lack of being nice. Long night. But whatever, I didn't have to get dressed up, eat banquet food and clap for 274 individual student awards. (Not exaggerating. Worst Banquet Ever.)
I am in the midst of upholstering a chair (at the moment actually--I'm taking an ice cream sandwich/blogging break), and when that's done I will start the marathon shopping, cooking and freezing session. I need to sew tabs on my BumGenius diapers, but have enough econobums and g diapers that it can wait if need be. We have plenty of baby clothes, blankets, hats, and diapers, including disposable backups as well as cloth. I have a few things to order of the internet, but nothing that we won't survive without (most is not baby-related anyway.)
So we're kind of ready. But not really.
Anybody want to come over to dust and do windows???
*crickets*
Monday, April 26, 2010
Vote for ME!!! (Please?)
ACK!
You have no idea how excited I am by this. Here's a link to a baby in a bunad photo (I don't have the right to post the photo, but go see. It's soooo cute.)
My story is #1, about my aunt Kathy's first experience with Lefse. It may not be the funniest of the five, but if I get enough votes, I still win. Yes, I guess I am a corrupt politician at heart--I want that bunad!!!
Could you please take a moment and go over to the post and comment? All you have to say is Story #1, and they'll count you. And spread the word! I would really, really appreciate it.
And I promise to post pictures of Bootsie in the Bunad. Heck, if I win, maybe I'll even post my mom's awesome Norwegian meatball recipe. But sorry, my lefse recipe is still a secret--I'm holding on to it just in case some day I find a Lefse-Off to enter. Heh.
Here is a link to My Little Norway's post on what Bunads are. Here's one more link to the voting post.
And THANK YOU! Takk! Mange takk! Mange tusen takk!
Monday, April 19, 2010
In her blood
I have been a musician since the day I was born. You couldn't stop me--I was always singing songs, making up my own lyrics, playing any instrument handy (including my own body), and even tapping out rhythms on my teeth so no one could hear (yes, my dentist yelled at me.) My dad's #1 rule (that he no longer remembers) was "NO SINGING AT THE KITCHEN TABLE."
Rowan loves to make music, too. So far, she's still kind of monotone, though she's still young, but her rhythm and ear are excellent. She identifies instruments like kids much older than she, and is already asking to learn to play the piano. Her first big hit was a song she wrote called "Broken Doors". Broken doors...are...broken. Broken tables... are... broken. The broken toy... is... broken. We have no idea where the inspiration for that one came from, but she sings it often.
Dr. B is musical, too, but has always been a visual artist. His mom tells stories of his complete and utter meltdown when the dragon he drew at age 9 had the scales going the wrong way, and how he simply had to be excused from class to sit in the hallway of the school and painstakingly erase and redraw every single scale. He won awards with his artwork through school, and still sketches when he needs to think.
We were invited for Easter dinner (her wife made lamb, NOM) at a dear friend's home. She happens to be an opera singer, and has a baby grand piano in her living room, as well as lots of animals to entertain us. Rowan was in heaven. She had also brought along her new watercolor paint and book set that came in her Easter basket, and insisted on trying them out after we finished eating.
We added the accessories. I think it's a good look for her.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Dueling GPS
I had decided a few months ago that it was time to get new dishes for the kitchen, because the ones we got for our wedding, nearly 14 years ago, had seen better days. Chipped I could deal with, even a few broken pieces, but when all of them started to show gray knife marks that couldn't be removed--well, it was time. I remember when my mother got her second set of stoneware--probably after about 20 years of marriage. She was so excited to have something new and different. I scoured the internet for something we both would like, looked in all the local stores, and still couldn't find what I wanted. I had our phone rebate cards to spend, and nothing to spend them on.
Then I figured it out. I wanted something sort of Pier One-y. But of course, our Pier One closed last year.
So we headed to Altoona. I pulled off the highway, figuring it would be near all the other stores. Drove around for a while, no luck. So, using my smart phone, I pulled it up on the browser and punched in the address. It showed me the route, but none of the street signs matched the ones I saw, so I brought out the backup GPS. On that one, the address didn't exist.
So we drove around for over an hour, dueling GPS machines fighting it out in the cup holders, and me getting more and more frustrated. We stopped for directions. And a potty break. And ice cream. (Hey, DQ is just as good a place as any...) Asked a person, but of course she didn't know where it was either. Drove more. Stopped for gas. Rowan kept saying, "It's OK, Mommy! We'll find it!" She was a trooper.
Finally, I gave up.
Called the store. Found out they were near Walmart. (Of course.) Punched that in. Finally got there. (Only had to turn around twice.) YAY! And found dishes I liked, at a decent price, and 8 place settings. (They aren't shown on the website.)
But no mugs.
Sigh.
Stopped at Kmart (we also don't have one of those, so I thought I'd check, just in case.) I stuck a salad plate in my purse, and we walked in, hoping. They didn't have enough of the solid color mugs I liked that matched, but these mod florals went with them and they had enough. I grabbed 8, and off we went. We snuck back into town with minutes to spare before my rehearsal, and Dr. B walked in the door as I walked out. As I ran out the door, I said, "do you like them?" "YES!"
It's a done deal. We have new dishes. They are NOT WHITE. I'm happy. The picture is kind of awful (from my phone, and at night), but it gives you an idea. They're a sort of ecru/taupe with earth tone stripes around the outside in espresso and a kind of rust/pink/orange/reddy color-ish. Sort of. The mugs are shown here. They match, and they're not too huge so your coffee gets cold. Yay!
Now it's time to box up the old stuff for the church rummage sale, and finally cull all the unmatching and just plain ugly dishware we've collected over the years. I guess this is nesting for baby #2--when Mommy gets new stuff. :) Bonus!
Friday, April 09, 2010
Friday, April 02, 2010
What not to put in a sippy cup
"Mom, can you put something in my sippy cup?"
"Sure, honey. What do you want? Soymilk, juice or water?"
"Can I have FUZZ water?"
(She means carbonated water, which, by the way, is pretty hilarious when randomly squirting out of the sippy cup's nozzle.)
Thursday, April 01, 2010
Help!!! Reliable freezer recipes needed ASAP
However, I do want to begin stocking my freezer with ready-to-go meals. A friend recommended this book, but our library's copy is lost. (Though now that I see the price, I may just order it. Gotta wait a bit though, because we are in the process of switching banks to a local one rather than a big corporate bank and I currently do not have easy access to funds except cash. And knowing our local Barnes and Noble, they'll charge 3 times what Amazon does. And they're both big corporations, so I have to stick it to at least one of the men by going with the cheap one.)
SO! This is where you come in. Do you have some reliable recipes that you make ahead and freeze that you can send me? I have a big, upright freezer, so have plenty of room. I'm looking for things that are healthy and easy, and am trying to avoid huge amounts of either dairy or tomato because of Rowan's lactose issues and my memories of her screams when I ate anything acidic while breastfeeding during the first months (seriously, one fry dipped in ketchup meant hours of crying.) I won't avoid them entirely, but if I can have some good alternatives that I can trust in there, that would be great. I have done some internet searches, but would loves some "I make this and my family loves it" recommendations--proven recipes are always the best. Please send thaw/bake directions, too! If you have links, great, if you want to email them to me, just look on my site for the email link (I think it's still there) or if you know me on Facebook, send it there.
And I'll get cooking! At soon as the shooting pains in my butt from the sciatica stop, anyway.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Nutella is health food, right?
She must be going through a big growth spurt. Clothes that fit last week don't now, and in a span of 2 days went from wearing her shoes to "these hurt!" She wants to graze all day long, and eats more for breakfast than I do. The other day, that was Silk, 2 pieces of toast with peanut butter and nutella, a banana and a yogurt. Remember, she's not even 3 yet. She prefers crackers and peanut butter at all times of day, is eating apples by the bushel, but tends to not want to eat her meals. (And I know, I shouldn't let her and should make her eat her meals, but she is normally a great eater at mealtime, so I'm not stressing about it. She's craving carbs right now. It's a phase.)
But I guess I don't need to worry too much--half the nutella ends up on her face, anyway. ;-)
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Rowan's new Freecycle Tricycle!
A friend suggested joining Freecycle to look for a piano. I've just gotten started, but it's a really wonderful service. When a neighbor put a perfectly good mountain bike next to the trash, I listed it and it was taken hours later with a nice thank you. I just *hate* seeing perfectly good stuff go into the landfill, so this service is really fabulous.
The other day I was looking at trikes for her. She's ready. Her own little scooter is too small, and she's growing up fast. I thought it was worth asking, and lo and behold--look what we got! Less than a week later, a practically brand new trike--probably the one I would have bought anyway (it's still listed on Amazon) and in fantastic condition, not a scratch. For free. LOVE it. So thanks to Barb from Bellefonte--Rowan is thrilled with her new Big Girl Trike!
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day
We had two gorgeous days this weekend--65-70F, sunny, neighbors out and chatting, and things were really looking up. Everyone was in a great mood. We ate on the patio, walked the dog without our jackets, and played in the sandbox. It was lovely.
Today was not gorgeous. Cool, cloudy, rainy, and one of those days where everything that could possibly be annoying just was. Rowan wanted to eat constantly all day long, except when I made actual food. Money is tighter than we'd like it and there are more zits on my chin than ever!!! Things that had been taken care of weren't, glitches happened, and someone forgot to refill the TP. Facebook was full of complaints about politics and THE END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT OMG, the yogurt soured, the projects I wanted to complete got waylaid and Dr. B didn't make it home in time for dinner that looked horrible but tasted good, even though Rowan wouldn't eat it although she wanted a PB&J and apples and applesauce and crackers. The laundry still isn't put away.
But, I'm trying really hard to look on the bright side. The magnolia tree on the next block is blooming, and Rowan thinks they "feel like socks!" God bless her, she was in a great mood even when her mother wasn't. I can look down and watch my stomach moving like dolphins surfacing. (Or sharks. Nope, looking on the bright side. Going with dolphins.) I have a lunch date with a friend after my doc appointment tomorrow, and am picking up a free tricycle from our local Freecycle. I goofed around with my template again and the new Draft Blogger tool thingee is much easier to use. Still not perfect, but more interesting, I hope. (Do you like it?)
Spring is coming, things are getting done, and progress is being made. Not always easy to see that through this flurry of hormones, but I'm trying.
Friday, March 19, 2010
French pj's are so cute, wear them as clothes!
As she "swam" in the bathtub, I read the tag. It's pajamas. No Dora the Explorer--French jammies are gorgeous.
Pbft. Who cares? It's darling, and it's her favorite color.
Sigh. I miss France.
*PS I am not sure what is up with the goofy faces whenever a camera is present. I hope this is just a phase.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
I had a good idea.
S'mores are pretty good, but they're too messy and a tish too airy for me. I like something a bit more substantial with my sugar and fat. Years ago, I tried to perfect the perfect S'mores Brownie. I failed miserably. The graham cracker crust was never anything but dry, the browned top I wanted meant the brownie itself was too dry or else I overcompensated and it was undercooked, and I couldn't come up with a way to get everything I wanted all at the same time.
I went to this site the other day, and came upon a great method while reading the reviews. It totally worked and the brownies are awesome and were super easy.
Here's the method I used. It's not that site's version exactly, but it's pretty darn easy. You can adapt it to any size pan and you can use your own homemade brownies or cheat with a box like I did. Excuse the photo--it's from my phone. As you can see, I've sampled them already.
S'mores Brownies
- your favorite brownie mix or recipe, prepared according to directions (with eggs, oil, water or coffee, etc.)
- mini marshmallows
- chocolate bars, broken, or chocolate chips
- graham crackers, crumbled
Remove the pan from the oven. Sprinkle with handfuls of marshmallows until it's mostly covered. Sprinkle with chocolate and graham cracker pieces. Return to oven for last 5 minutes until the marshmallows are puffed and gooey and the chocolate starts to melt a little.
Wait a while before cutting unless you like it a gooey mess. (It's good either way. The gooey mess version would be great with ice cream.) The marshmallows will stay fairly gooey even when it's cool. They aren't browned like the perfect campfire marshmallow, but you won't smell like woodsmoke all day either--it's a trade-off.
Yum.
Monday, March 15, 2010
I do not have the skills.
Hate this template. Super bored with my old one. No abilities to make a new one worth a darn. Not enough readership to justify plunking down a chunk of change for a pro to do one, either (as evidenced by my paltry ad checks that show up about twice a year).
I don't even have photoshop, much less know how to use it, and I am really quite lost. This is what I've done for tonight. I guess you could say it's a little bit of nesting. I want it to look fantastic, but really am stuck in 1998 when it comes to web design. Blogger doesn't make it exactly easy to make it look good (you can change it, but only within their parameters), and I don't have the energy to figure out switching everything to a different site at the moment. So there you go.
If the template fairy wants to show up, she'll be welcome. For now, I'm going to eat another S'mores Brownie and then go to bed.
I love this.
The arm swoop, the "actions", and especially the strut off stage at the end--it will be stuck in my head for months.
I think I'm going to download the ringtone.
Yes, I grew up in North Dakota. Loving the Lawrence Welk style is in my blood--even if it is Soviet Russian Cheez.
Tuesday, March 09, 2010
Girlie Girl
She loves to wear dresses while she plays trains and cars. She tromps through the mud in her pink tights. Rarely leaves the house without a necklace or bracelet, but runs faster than the boys and hasn't met a jungle gym she can't conquer, even at 2 3/4.
The day I snapped this shot with my phone, we spent quite a bit of time shoe shopping, just for fun. She loves red heels, just like I do. (I would have bought these, but they were too big for both of us.) We giggled and pranced in the isles of Ross, trying on silly shoes we didn't need just because it was fun and they were really inexpensive, anyway.
I am so proud of my little girl. She is her Grandma Judeen's granddaughter. I have no doubt that she, too, will be bailing hay in a miniskirt or stomping across the cow pasture without looking down, perfectly accessorized.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Hard Working Man
This is a normal sight at our house. My husband, at work. He's definitely not one to leave it at the office. Relaxing just isn't in his blood. He cannot do something halfway, and doesn't understand how anyone else can, either. When he doesn't have anything to do, he goes and learns something. Like one of 5 programming languages he taught himself in the 90's. How to repair his own bike. How to build a computer. How to speak French. Extensive reading on Buddhist philosophy. Sailing in the 1800's. Sci Fi. Or changing his career path entirely, from Art (Yes, Art!!!) to Geology and Mineralogy to Geomicrobiology to Environmental Chemistry and Technology to Nanotechnology to Thinfilms to Solar Technology to Materials Science to Architecture and Sustainability to who knows what.
And he doesn't stop there. He not only learned French, he worked to get us a position there so I would be able to realize my dream of living in France one day. And now, he wants to find a way to go back.
A vacation for him is not laying on a beach with a beer. (Though he'd happily walk through a museum with a beer.) On our honeymoon in New Orleans, he went to every museum there was. Thankfully, we're well matched. I love that, too.
He's kind of maxed out on the academics--though I guess he could get a second PhD (don't tell him, please!) As a professor, he's constantly busy teaching, recruiting, researching, mentoring, leading a solar decathlon team, and now heading up an entirely new degree program. He's not tenure-track, but even if he was and got it, he said he wouldn't change a thing. It's who he is. The idea of taking it easy just isn't a part of his DNA. He can't not do his best. I love that about him. I love how hard he works, both for his calling's sake and for his family's sake. I love that when he believes in something, it is with every fiber of his being. I love his devotion.
This week, he figured something out. For the first time in 36+ years, he's bored.
Heaven help us.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Budding Foodie
I ran upstairs to change my shirt, and heard her sitting down at the table and pick up her fork. As I searched for another top to wear, she exclaimed, "Wow! Yum! This is yummy!" Hmmm... I wonder if she likes the garlic mashed potatoes? I zipped up my boots, and headed down to grab my choir folder. Maybe it's the pork chops with Roasted Garlic Rub and Dijon mustard and brown sugar glaze?
"I never had this before!!!" she said, gleefully, as she leaned over her plate, shoveling food quickly into her mouth.
I walked into the kitchen, smiling and proud of my culinary triumph. She loved it! Something I made was a huge success with my darling daughter. I took a quick look at her sectioned, plastic plate to see what had been such a coup.
Corn and Peas, mixed and boiled. With some butter.
"Hello, Food Network? Yeah, cancel that Toddler Tidbits idea. She's definitely not ready for prime time quite yet."
Friday, February 12, 2010
Spammed
When I get back from the Valentine's Party, I'll go fix it, but I have also had to turn on comment moderation. Ugh. Why this could not have happened after my first cup of coffee, I do not know. Stupid bots.
Happy Friday, nonetheless.
Tuesday, February 09, 2010
Treasure Box
We spent an hour or so flipping through magazines, finding most of her "favorite FAVORITE!!!" things in Martha Stewart Living. She chose crayons, a cat, a dog, lots of roses (purple are her mom's favorite), oranges, pots and pans, ballet shoes, an Eiffel Tower, a Sophie La Giraffe, presents, "bling", a girl with a lollipop, a mommy and daddy, tomatoes, fruit, multigrain bread, glass cake stands (they were very pretty, I have to give her that), and even a cupcake. She was very particular with each choice, rejecting the white bread and raisin bread, saying no to the orange roses, and turning down the chocolates (I do NOT know why.) I trimmed all the pieces, and we sat down after supper to apply them to the sturdy box I'd saved from a gift. I finished it after she'd gone to bed with a few extra coats of Mod Podge to protect it for her.
She now has a special box, just for her special little things. Little does she know how much of a treasure the experience was for me.
Monday, February 01, 2010
5/365
I guess her growth spurt is over--she's no longer eating much, so I'm getting more creative with what I feed her. Today, I turned her blueberries and yogurt into a smoothie. She liked it. (But she still didn't eat much.)
Note: more 365 photos are on my flickr site.
Friday, January 29, 2010
iPhoto thinks it's smarter than me.
Well, apparently, iPhoto now has a special relationship with Flickr and Facebook, and when you do this, it deletes them off the sites you loaded them on.
Stupid. Argh!
So I am busy reloading everything, but all the comments are gone and the links are likely broken, so sorry. At least it's only a month's worth.
Sigh. I feel like yelling at someone to get off my lawn.
2/365*
Every afternoon, Rowan and I walk Lucy. In the summer, we usually walk a mile and a half, but in the winter (and especially since she's insisted on walking rather than riding in the stroller), I cut it to a mile. Lucy needs it--she won't do her job near her house, and insists on 3 walks per day, every day. Our walk time varies, sometimes right after lunch, sometimes after Rowan's nap, but it's not skippable, no matter how bad the weather.
The last few days have been pretty cold, in the 20's F (-7C) with a brisk wind, so the walks haven't been as leisurely as usual. We've been sneaking back to take this shortcut behind some townhomes to get out of the wind on the way home.
The tree line that was here likely was part of an old farm, as the trees had barbed wire embedded in them. I guess they were rotten, and the city is cutting them down. It's hard to see them go, and it really changes the landscape. I'm really hoping the rot didn't spread further down the line to nearer our home. The trees are part of the reason I like the area so much.
*Craptastic photo today, I know. But it's what I saw.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
1/365. Maybe.
My friend challenged me to do the 365 project. She keeps bugging me about it.
So I'm not saying yes, and I'm not saying no. But I'll try. And it will get me blogging more, which is a side benefit, I guess.
This is day 1. I love it because the emotion on her face is so poignant. She didn't want me to take the picture, she asked politely, and I still did. She looks so sad and disappointed in me.
We were having a snack of raspberry sherbet and graham crackers to celebrate day 2 of demon child disappearing. I don't know if it was a developmental stage, being fed up with potty training, or a growth spurt (which was part of it, I'm pretty sure), but for a week or two my child had been replaced by a hellcat. I was ready to lose my marbles. Most days consisted of lots of frustration, yelling, and tears, from both of us. It was bizarre--almost like being in an abusive situation, because I never knew what was going to set her off. I walked on eggshells.
Then all of a sudden, she woke up and was back to her old self. I barely dared mention it in my constant updates on Facebook for fear it would end. But today, she was herself again. Kind, sweet, polite, happy, excited by little things like hot Vanilla Silk with a candy cane stirrer after a cold, blustery walk with Lucy.
The relief was overwhelming. I know I am lucky--some kids are that way all the time. But man, I am not cut out for dealing with that. If it's a job, you can quit. If it's a friend or partner, you can end the relationship. But if it's your 2 year old daughter? You have to deal. I don't know how to deal. I am so thankful that my prayers were answered.
A moment after this was shot, when I set down the camera, she was smiling again. Thank you.
Valentine's Centerpiece
I try to make it a Monday tradition to clean my table of everything except some sort of linen and a centerpiece, whether it's flowers, weeds we picked on our daily walks stuffed in a crystal vase, a bowl of apples, or even just a candle. It helps me start the week fresh, feeling ready, and if I didn't do it, my table would never be cleaned off. It's big enough to just push stuff out of the way and eat dinner, and my husband, though he'd like to be thought of as "spartan", is a clutter collector extraordinaire. I admit to contributing, but I try to keep organized. It goes in spurts.
These are Wonka SweetTarts, one of my favorite Valentine candies, along with Dove chocolate hearts. These are also great, because eating more than a few makes my mouth hurt with the acid, so I can't overindulge. I don't like the blue ones (fruit punch?), but I still eat them. The hurricane I got at Walmart for about 3 bucks after seeing a similar, larger one in Pottery Barn for 60 and thinking that was absolutely ridiculous. The candle is just an unscented pillar from Target.
And yes, it is possible to sneak a few candies while it's burning, but I'm pretty sure you burn off the calories with the whole "fear of burning off your arm hair" thing.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Trying to get over it.
So here's a little slideshow of some of my favorite Christmas photos. In this set, you'll see lots of Rowan, both sets of grandparents, and very little of me. One may not be available, because it's an absolutely adorable bath photo, but if you're a friend I've approved on flickr, you can go see it there. Trying to keep her nakedness private, just in case. (But it is a darn cute little bathtub smile.)
Enjoy!
Thursday, January 14, 2010
22.5 weeks
Unfortunately, the new camera doesn't have a "no zits and make my arm skinny" button.
So this is the bump. Unfortunately, what I can feel of Bootsie only takes up about 1/4 of the bottom. Hopefully the rest of it isn't peanut butter M&M's, but I make no guarantees. We had a doctor appointment about an hour after this was taken, and he described her as a "very active baby!" 156 heart beats per minute for our little girl, growing at the expected rate. (As am I. I am up about 6 lbs.). No problems with her, none with me. Everything is going swimmingly, and despite all the warnings about being pregnant while chasing a toddler, this time I've found it much easier. I'm no longer a substitute teacher running all over town, and I have 2 good legs. Having a torn ACL and meniscus and undergoing surgery while pregnant is not something I'd recommend to anyone.
Bootsie apparently is going to be a woodwind player. During rehearsal, she goes bananas during sax or clarinet solos. We might just have a jazzer on our hands. And when I contract my abs to support my tone, she relaxes, just like her sister did. I've given notice that I won't be at the May concert, but plan to make it through February. After that, we'll see. Unless he wants me to conduct, of course.*
*After plenty of nagging from me, our director allowed me to conduct the band. Then he and the band saw that I can really do it well. I was the first woman to conduct the State College Area Municipal Band in concert, ever. I don't plan on that being a one-time thing.
Friday, January 08, 2010
OK, this time it's for real.
Yelling.
Of course, it wasn't working. She didn't want to be potty trained. And she screamed whenever we had to wipe her poopy areas, screamed like we were killing her. Boy, that feels great, let me tell you. And diapers. Cloth, paper, pee, poop--I know there's more coming, but frankly, I'd love a little break before that happens.
So.
Christmas is over, the family has left. She's gotten the concept that she's going to be a big sister (though sometimes she seems to think the baby will come out and be older than her. We are working on this.) She's excited.
She finally wants to be A Big Girl.
Yesterday, I did what I always do. "Rowan, do you want to try sitting on the potty?"
"NOOOOOOO!!!!!" (If she could breathe fire, this would be one instance where you'd have seen it.)
And that was it. The straw that broke the camel's back.
"I don't care. It's time. Get in here. NOW!"
Of course, she ignored me.
So I pulled out the big guns.
"I'm counting to 5. If you aren't in here by 5, I am turning off Sesame Street."
She was in there. Crying, yes, but there.
So, we did the training pants all day, with rubber pants over (for no apparent reason, because when she has an accident, she's pretty much soaked anyway. But whatever. I keep using them.) She did pretty well. 2 accidents, a small turd (first on the potty.) Many gummi bears.
Today, again, 3 accidents, but a massive poop on the potty to offset that (resulting in a big strawberry marshmallow. I'm all about the corn syrup-laden rewards). She's going, but only when I take her, never on her own before the fact. (Note, the accidents were within about 10 minutes of an attempt each time, so don't say I'm not taking her often enough. I'm really really trying here.) We ran some errands and I put her in a diaper, which she filled with pee, but at least let me know when it was happening (and all the other shoppers around us, too, natch.) She was also very polite to the lady who let us in the bathroom to clean up.
Tonight, I found some more ammo in the closet.
A green fairy costume, with wings, I'd found on sale at the craft store years ago for a few bucks--the perfect carrot. 3 days with no accidents AND remembering to tell Mommy before she pees and not just relying on me to take her.
Wish us luck.
Monday, January 04, 2010
Rest in Peace, Ethel, the Medieval Laptop
Ha haha hahahahahahahah.
OK, well. Not shoes.
But some things, yes. Big things. Expensive things, for me, especially. If it's a pair of cute jeans on sale for $30, yeah, no hesitation. But anything more than about 50 bucks and I get nervous.
Thus, I was still happily (somewhat) typing away on my old laptop (a birthday gift back in the early days of the last decade). It had a newer hard drive, but was pretty slow for a Mac. I was on keyboard #3 (thanks to Miss Sticky Fingers) and it sounded vaguely like a jet plane taking off when you opened it. Either that or one of those toilets that flushes so loud you're pretty sure you will lose a kidney if you don't stand up when you hit the lever. You know the ones.
And I was still using my little point-and-shoot camera with the sand stuck in the controls from our time at the beach (I could go up, but not down). And editing the living daylights out of the photos in iPhoto, a slow process on my Gothic computer.
I had fear. Fear of certain websites with lots of flash animation and videos. Fear of loading yet more photos on, because I already had over 4GB on it worth of snaps of Rowan. Fear of taking and saving too many photos, for the lack of room and the time it took to upload them. Much time was spent deleting photos after scrutinizing them on the tiny screen of my little brown camera. More time was spent waiting for the screen or the internet to catch up with my fingers as I surfed and scrolled.
But I am a lucky, lucky woman.
For Christmas, I opened a box with a new Nikon D90. I'm still learning to use it. But I can already tell, the photos are beautiful. Gorgeous. Amazing. Even with little ability or skill applied yet.
Dr. B asked last night why I hadn't uploaded the photos I've taken at Christmas. I answered with tales of trepidation as to how much Ethel could handle. Maybe we should buy a little extra hard drive to save photos? USB drives? Something? Because I was afraid of deleting photos, but even more afraid of loading more on to an old lady whose back was nearly broken already.
Today, he came home from work and tossed a small neoprene sleeve on the sofa.
A new laptop, for me.
His custom bike's purchase (which is really his Christmas gift) will be put off a month or two. Thanks to a bit of a pay bump due to his new position at work, there's more breathing room. (And lucky for my own guilt, it's a bit chilly and snowy for biking anyway.)
And he says I deserve it.
Wow.
I am so spoiled. Blessed. And very, very lucky. I would have been happy with flowers.
And now, so is Rowan. She's currently cuddled up next to me, watching T'choupi videos on YouTube on my old laptop as I type this on my new one.
Happy New Year, indeed.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
La Formule de Noël
I was going to get everything done and be relaxed and make lots of memories and take lots of pictures. My house would be spotless. Every dish would work out perfectly. No one would fight. It would be so special.
Yeah.
My biscotti (Grandma Mitzi's recipe) failed utterly because my oven decided to throw a tantrum and not hold or come up to the heat it should. It's only a few years old, so it shouldn't do this. (I'm calling the repair people soon.) As I sliced it to toast the slices, my knife came away sticky. Not exactly salvageable. My "Ultimate Spritz" were too floury and not buttery enough and didn't brown like I wanted and didn't puff up like Grandma's do. So next year, it's back to her perfect recipe (which blends butter and *shock!!!* shortening.) My krumkake were sort of soggy and kind of too brown. They were NOT PERFECT (but they didn't suck.)
Then, my deep freezer decided it didn't like working any more. ARGH!
The night the in-laws were supposed to arrive, I'd finished cleaning the house, except I didn't have time to shampoo the carpets and it was NASTY. I decided to plan to let Rowan leave toys everywhere so no one could see the stains. At 10 PM, we started rolling the lefse. Yeah, great planning, huh? Making a big floury mess late at night. Brilliant.
But the lefse actually turned out gloriously. Super thin, soft, tender, great flavor, though a little too big because I couldn't find the right measuring cup to make the "buns". I didn't mess with Grandma's recipe, except for my usual tweak (which is an improvement) and the fact we let it sit 2 days in the fridge because I was tired and my muscles were still sore from ricing the potatoes for it and Dr. B was unwilling to help until then. So, small success. (BTW, my friend Nikkibird had a great idea that I'm going to try next year because ricing potatoes is hard and it kind of sucks. Reminder to myself: KitchenAid attachment.)
The in-laws called, there were mechanical problems with the plane, and they were stuck in Detroit overnight. They were safe, but I didn't really have an excuse to make Monkey Bread in the AM. OH NO MY PLANS!!! FOILED AGAIN!!! (I really love Monkey Bread.)
I was a tish stressed.
They got here around noon, and I cobbled together a nice brunch and had it ready for them, with my standard Egg Bake (ham, cheese, and mushrooms), baguette, green salad, and juice. It was good. I felt a little better. I didn't plan afternoon snacks, and Dr. B yelled at me because he was bored and so therefore he should be eating more even though he wasn't hungry. I tried to ignore him. We had an early supper of pulled pork sandwiches, went to church, opened presents and had hors d'oeuvres and munchies. Which of course then he wasn't hungry for. (Grr.)
Then that night, after everyone else went to bed, Dr. B yelled at me for being stressed and trying to make things perfect and actually having a plan to follow (it's too regimented! too strict!) and always wanting a *SHOCK* clean house. Oh, the horror! It was my own fault I was on night 3 of an insomnia streak. I cried. It was bad. (He later apologized for being a jerk and said he used to do the same thing to his mom when she would get holiday stressed. You know, because yelling at me helps SO MUCH. I felt a little better then. But I still couldn't sleep that night or the next night.)
So anyway. Christmas morning, Rowan had her Santa gifts (which she loved) and then we got dressed and went to friends' for brunch. It was nice. Dr. B missed the fact that we'd all had coffee and he didn't get any until we got there at like noon, so I guess that was his payback. Heh. I drove because it was freezing rain (just in town, luckily, by the time we got to the country it was just rain) and he knew I'd freak if I rode, and he said he wanted me in a seatbelt (our car is dinky and with 4 adults and a carseat, the back is too packed for seatbelts.) But it was fine. She made spiced apple waffles and left out the cinnamon for me and made a really yummy quiche that had butternut squash and prosciutto in it. (We gave her Jewish husband a naugahyde bacon wallet and he got really excited. She's pregnant for the first time, so I gave her a Be-Band.)
On the way home, Dr. B suggested that he, Rowan and his folks go out for breakfast the next day and I stay home and sleep in. I took this as part good idea and part insult. His dad said it perfectly, "yeah, we just don't like you very much." Dick and I laughed. Dr. B sputtered. I let him.
I tried to take a nap. I had such a headache, and my nose was stuffed. Rowan decided to crawl in with me. Then she petted my hair. And hugged me. And kissed me. And "face mushed" me. And talked. I told her to be quiet. She said, "I am being quiet!" Then she laid there going, "Choo choo choo choo choo choo!!!" I told her she wasn't being quiet. "I'm not talking! I'm just going 'choo choo choo choo!'" UGH. I took 2 tylenol and a Benadryl and got up to cook.
But supper was great, if I do say so myself. Our friends came over (the ones we'd brunched with) and my in-laws (who are awesome) vacuumed and set the table with French linens and china and crystal and quickie-mopped the floor while I cooked. And everything turned out yummy and we ate by candlelight.
Here's what we had, all made from, as Rowan says, "scritch" (except the Tim Tams) and all delicious.
- Velouté de Courge Butternut à la crème (squash soup! It was really good.)
- Beef Tenderloin à point with a red wine reduction (even with a failing oven and a misfunctioning thermometer, I didn't overcook it. That was awesome.)
- Vivi's Fat Potatoes Fat Fat (Garlic mashed potatoes with whipped cream cheese, butter and sour cream. Made au pif because I make stuff like this a lot. They were so luxurious I got sick later. But worth it.)
- Haricots Verts à la vapeur (steamed green beans, left plain because the rest was so rich.)
- Spiced Pomegranate, Clementine and Lingonberry Relish (Au pif encore, and delicious. I should really write that one down.)
- Norwegian Lefse, with butter and sugar
- Red wine, vanilla Silk (for the kiddo), Apple-Pomegranate Sparklers (for the preggos. Bought that at Wegman's. It wasn't horridly sweet, so we liked it.)
And my great plans for after Christmas? Eat the leftovers and make no plans. Take some naps. Rent some movies. Maybe go out to eat. It worked perfectly.
Hope you had a Merry Christmas. We did.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Christmas Child
I'm referring to Julia. THE Child.
My New Year's Resolution this year is to watch more movies. Like eat more fish, wear more skirts, and eat more salads, it will be one I'll enjoy keeping. I may even spend less time on Facebook! (No promises.)
Since my in-laws were here, it wasn't hard to start. I married into a movie family. Last night was Angels and Demons (meh, not bad, not great), then today The Tales of Despereaux (I only caught the end, but that was really good.) Tonight, Julie and Julia.
I liked it! I was a little bit jealous, though. My expat blog still has not been picked up for a movie, and I'm pretty sure Nora Ephron would do a nice job directing. Some of my expat blogger friends had already discussed casting, too. (They liked Reese for me.)
Anyway.
Back to Julie/Julia. Love Merryl, of course. And the food, oh the food. I am craving duck as I type.
But the thing that got me the most?
Paris.
I miss it, so much. And not just the Paris you visit. The Paris you live. Because it's different, it just is. The banter with the guys at the marché. Finding "the good butter". Impressing the lady that sells the good butter by admonishing her husband when he tried to pawn second-best off on me, enough so she always had it at the ready and saved some for me, because she knew I'd show up late. So she offered to mail it to me when I tearfully told her we were leaving for the US, for good. The amazing bread, the happy homeless guy who loved our dog, evening walks up la rue Mouffetard and the beauty everywhere you looked.
When I was there, I missed the US. Here, I miss France. My heart isn't sure where home is, perhaps somewhere suspended above the Atlantic.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Gift
She likes pink, I like red. She likes cherry tomatoes, pickles are my favorite. My favorite number is 13. She's decided hers is 12.
"Mommy, you don't like that!" she says, when a "The Fresh Beat Band!!!" commercial comes on Nick, Jr. "You're right, I don't!" I answer. She doesn't like watching the local news. "I don't like that. I want my show!"
She eats the hot dog, I order Target's personal pizza. "I'm tired of this music," she says as a Couperin harpsichord piece plays in the car. "I'm not, and the driver gets to choose," I answer.
We both like string cheese.
Today, we ran out in the morning to do some errands before a promised lunch out. I was hopeful for a long nap* after so I could cross several things off my to-do list before her grandparents arrive late tomorrow night.
It's Christmas, I thought. It won't kill me, just once.
"OK, Honey. You were such a good girl at the store, I'll let you pick where you want to eat for lunch. Wendy's or (big mental shudder) McDonald's?"
"Wendy's!"
"Are you sure? You love McDonald's. I thought it would be a special treat. You really want Wendy's?"
"Wendy's, Mommy. You don't like Donulz. I like Donulz, but you don't like Donulz. It's OK, I like Wendy's!"
We went to Wendy's. And I ordered a Frosty to split. A special treat for my very special, thoughtful, sweet little girl.
*Unfortunately, she didn't make good on the nap promise. I crossed some things off my list, but in quite a foul mood, and one got crossed off and dumped in the garbage. Total biscotti fail. Ah well, if I were Martha Stewart, I'd have a staff to hide my mistakes, a personal trainer to keep my tushie toned, and a bazillion gazillion dollars to bathe in whenever I wanted.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
18 1/2 Weeks: The Stats
Did the usual, weigh in, pee in a cup (which Rowan was very confused by), ask if everything was OK, measure, listen to the baby's heart, check my ears for infection (Rowan's cold gave her one, I just wanted to be sure.) She suggested Sudafed or Tylenol Cold for my über-snot problems, and I got blood drawn for some tests.
Here's the good news: baby sounds fine, strong heart beat. The gentler movements may just be due to placenta placement (Rowan was rough, this one is noticeable but not nearly as easily.) I've gained all of 3 pounds, despite all the Rolos and Dove Promises Candy Cane bonbons I've been polishing off. My belly's at 18 cm. and the test results will be sent as soon as they get them.
And here's the day we've been waiting for: New Year's Eve, Jan. 31, we'll find out if Bootsie is a sister or a brother. What a Bonne Année, indeed!
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Thoughtful
I didn't really understand mine.
"Most Thoughtful." That was nice, I guess, but I was 6. I didn't really get it.
Sunday night, as I tucked my wiggly worm in, I promised her I would stay upstairs and read in our room. "I have a headache, Honey. I'm going to take some Tylenol and finish my book. I've got a new one to start, too. You just go to sleep," I said, knowing she was keyed up and wouldn't stay in her bed without some serious intervention.
After one more, "I just need another hug from you," she went to sleep.
Monday morning, I woke at 9 AM* to my little girl standing at the side of my bed.
"Mommy?" she said, stroking my hair. "Your head still hurt?" She leaned over and kissed my forehead.
Yeah, now I get it. She deserves a thousand construction paper ribbons.
*(Yes, 9 AM!!!! NINE!!!! And she did it again on Tuesday! I'm liking this.)
This pregnancy has been much easier on me than Rowan's. For one thing, I didn't tear my ACL, lock my knee and have to have surgery and physical therapy, nor were there the worries about the pain killers (and yes, I needed them. The pain was horrendous--much worse than labor). I was allowed to take Prilosec the whole time, so heartburn was a non-issue. I never barfed, and the morning sickness only lasted 10 days. And I guess I either knew what to expect, or after doing it once plus 17 months of breastfeeding, my body was more used to the wacky hormone surges.
Plus, we were here, where we are. Settled. No questions about the future, no worries about finding a job. And though I've heard others talk about their concerns about not loving a second child as much, I've had no feelings like this at all. The anxiety I felt when pregnant with Rowan has just been absent this time. It's been wonderful. The big leap from woman to mother was the hardest step--mother to two just seems natural. I am excited to meet my second daughter, and I can tell that the baby will be very different from her sister, unique in her own way. Dr. B is happy, and more relaxed about this one. I think he secretly is hoping that Bootsie will be a bit more like him. Rowan is so much like me, he jokes that I just budded. (Note, she has his bootie, his eyes, and many of his personality traits. She just looks like Mini-Me.) Rowan is so thrilled she can barely contain herself. I am blessed that her personality seems to be made to be an older sister--she loves having friends around, is very sweet, caring and thoughtful, and doesn't seem to struggle with jealousy. Yet, anyway.
Dr. B's grandmother Mitzi summed it up pretty well--"You have ten fingers on your hands. No matter which one you hurt, it hurts the same." They're all different, but they're all equally important, and they are all a part of you.
I am hoping this one is the part without colic. That would be good.