34

It used to be that birthdays meant partying, trying to survive the Three Wise Men shots my friends would buy me, and hoping the cake would be chocolate. Now, birthdays can make me feel a little reflective. At least lately, they do. I think, because, I understand a little more how much they’re worth. If our bedtime reading is any clue, I’m guessing that tomorrow, my Mimi will be whipping me up a meal full of red food, while Daddy helps as she insists on referring to her little brother as “Ian” a la Olivia. It will be a great day. I haven’t been blogging much lately but thought I would jump back in on my 34th birthday with a list of 34 things (some trivial, some not) I’d like to accomplish before I turn 35. Then, back to blogging, starting with some heartfelt thanks for a Sunshine Award nomination. But, for now, some (actually attainable with two small children) goals.

1. Get my son to sleep through the night
2. Sleep through the night
3. Run a half marathon
4. Get Mimi to like/eat vegetables other than carrots
5. Read The Sound and the Fury (even if it kills me)
6. Try snowboarding
7. Fill in the blanks in the baby books
8. Run one of those muddy, fire breathing obstacle course 5ks
9. Print photos
10. Visit my out of state friends
11. Take an art class
12. Take a sailing lesson
13. Make an apple pie from scratch
14. Make a dent in the NY times best 100 novels list
15. Tour at least three different breweries
16. Make a dent on the top 100 American beers list
17. Try bangs (even if it kills my husband)
18. Volunteer
19. Check out a jam band or two with my reformed hippie husband
20. Go a week without tv, Internet, Facebook etc
21. Take a glass blowing class
22. Learn how to throw a proper punch
23. Go to New York without my children
24. Go to DC with them
25. Roadtrip to somewhere I’ve never been
26. Learn to cook better food like coq au vin, different grains, something new.
27. Drive up Mt. Washington
28. Build a birdhouse
29. Get a bike with a baby seat and ride it everywhere
30. Learn to ride a motorcycle
31. Make a dent reading my kids the top 100 picture books
32. Be a more informed voter
33. Go on a kid-less date with my husband at least once a month
34. Be more patient, kind and attentive, especially to my kids and husband.

That should make a for a busy year I think. What are your birthday goals?
But more importantly, where’s my cake?

Dreams and Aspirations

When I was a young insomniac, I would eventually tire of staring at my ceiling and failing at various soothing techniques and would pop out of bed and venture down my hallway to my favorite place: the bathroom. I found my bathroom to be a fascinating place. The small closet was filled with so many wonderful products. There were creams and powders, brushes and makeup, gels and aromatics of all sorts. By some lucky coincidence, someone had also placed old fashioned apothecary jars in the closet as well. They beckoned with their jewel tones and rounded lids. I, in my nightgown, would screw my face up in serious contemplation as I stared into the closet and decided what my nightly concoction would be.

Next, I’d move to the sink. Lining up a tub of Vaseline, some baby powder and Avon perfume in some animal shaped bottle, I would hop up and steady myself on the little counter space left. I was too short to see in the mirror sitting down, so I would kneel, somewhat painfully, but necessarily. I needed the mirror. I wasn’t there to mix these wonderful ingredients as a scientist. No. I was mixing them up in my very own commercial. I was the greatest commercial actress of all time. Companies loved to have me endorse their products as I was very sincere. I would spend the next hour or so propped up on my little sink talking into the mirror about the miracles of my new wonder paste. I would demonstrate the correct application over and over, which, oddly enough, was best done with my little brother’s toothbrush.

After a while, I’d tire enough and tuck back into bed and dream about being the Palmolive lady. I desperately wanted to be a performer. But I was shy and perhaps, untalented. I actually auditioned once for a real commercial. It was a thrill until I walked into the room and couldn’t understand what the casting director was saying. She was British and my ears, accustomed to Boston accents, could not understand her. I kept waiting to hear a consonant but all I heard was “prehen da oo aw a baaag, an oo rahhhleee wan da baaaag”. After she said it five times, I heard, “pretend you see a bag and you really want the bag”. I was eight. Why the hell would I be excited about a bag? Years later, the realization that she was saying “bike” devastated me. I could’ve acted my pants off for a bike.

Now, I’m old…ish. I have kids and the realization that I’m not going to be a Rockette or the world’s greatest commercial actress is finally starting to set in. (“just now?”, you ask… Yes. just. now.). I can still have my own dreams of course, but now as a Mom, I find they’ve changed a bit. It’s a little bit strange to have come to a point in my life when I have to stop running because there are little legs to run with now. Stop? Eh, slow down. It’s not that life stops once you have kids, I’ve just found that it changes so much that my dream of sharing a Taster’s Choice Moment has been replaced by the cold hard truth that I have to share my priorities. I still perform but my live studio audience is pretty easy to please. I watch my daughter now and she’s becoming a performer. She dances and sings into the mirror just like I used to. Hopefully I’ll be able to use my experience reaching for the stars to help her reach for hers. Perhaps she’ll reach higher than me. Perhaps she’ll sneak into the bathroom and pretend to be an actual spokesmodel. Or a doctor. Whichever floats her boat. As long as she doesn’t brush her hair with her brother’s toothbrush. Much…

A Snarky Mom interviews the Robin Nesting on my Front Porch

Well Mrs. Robin, thank you for agreeing to speak with me. It is “Mrs.”, correct?

I prefer Ms.

Ah ha. Well then. I see you’ve chosen an interesting spot for your nest. A front porch?

Yes, I built our nest here just three days ago.

You built it? You didn’t hire a contractor? So you’re one of those DIY Moms? Yes, I can see that now. It is lacking a bit of finesse. Is that mud? How exactly did you come to choose this location?

It’s a nice sturdy spot. There’s a great tree nearby for flight school, a large yard with lots of worms and several gardens in the neighborhood. I also think I spotted some berries in the back.

Mm hmm. Are you aware, that a dog lives in this house? Do you think it’s safe to raise young birds so close to such danger?

Um

And what about that bush there? Do the inhabitants of this house use pesticides? Is it poisonous? You’ve built your nest awfully close to it.

Well, I thought it would provide some nice shade.

And that post. It’s painted.

Yes, a lovely color but why do you…

You don’t suppose it’s low VOC do you? Have you had it tested for lead?

Low VO what?

Let’s move on shall we?

Sure

How old are you?

I’m one year old

ONE? Do you think you’re old enough to handle this? I mean, a baby is a lot of work. So you’re a teen mom? Are you trying to get on tv?

Our average lifespan is only two years. Technically I’m middle aged.

Oh… so you’re a mature mother. I see. I notice you’ve laid two eggs. Congratulations.

Oh thank you

And how exactly did you come by twins?

Pardon me?

Well it can’t have been natural. What types of fertility treatments have you been using?

No fertility treatments. I just laid two eggs. I was hoping for four or five.

Four or five?! And how do you expect to support them with no husband?

I never said I don’t have a husb

Are you planning on breast feeding?

Well, no.

No? You know breast is best…

I’m not a mammal. I don’t actually have breasts.

Aren’t you a red breasted Robin?

Well, yes but

Moving on… What will you feed them then?

Worms, caterpillars. Maybe some nice berries.

Certified Organic?

I think I’ll just choose whatever’s closest.

Worms will be awfully big for those little mouths to chew.

Oh I’ll chew it for them first then drop it into their mouths.

I’m sorry, I must have misheard you. I thought I’d heard you say you’d pre-chew their food.

You heard correctly.

Dear God, that’s rather earthy-crunchy. I’m surprised you’re not vegan. Although you do seem like you’d be the type of bird to buy into attachment parenting.
And after the babies are born what will you do?

We’ll stay in this nest for a bit but I should have them up and flying in two weeks

Two weeks! What are you a Tiger Robin? Don’t you think that’s rather pushy?

No it’s just how we do it around here. They’ll go off on their own after about four weeks and I’ll go back to work.

You’re prioritizing work? Is that really in their best interests? You can’t expect to build nests and forage for food with the same focus and determination you had before laying these eggs. You’re going to need help balancing this. What books are you reading? I see you’re planning on cosleeping. Will you be doing any other sleep training?

Books? I, uh

Yes, books. Written by doctors, experts, other smarter, more experienced birds. How will you know what to do?

I don’t need books to tell me what to do. I know what to do.

Of course you do sweetheart. But how will you know what’s really best to prepare them for their lives? How will you know what to feed them, or how much grass to put in the nest to keep them warm? Are you going to vaccinate? When will you let them eat strawberries? Will you circumcise your son? And what about discipline? Will you employ corporal punishment? Just how will you know, if you don’t listen to the experts?

But I am the expert. I’m a Robin. These are my eggs. I’m going to take care of my babies just as my instincts guide me. I know them better than anybird. When they’re hungry, I’ll feed them. When they’re cold, I’ll keep them warm. I’ll show them how to hunt for worms. When they are ready, I’ll teach them how to fly. Blue Jays may do it a little differently. Sparrows have their own way too. But we’re all just birds doing what we think is best for our own babies.

But what about..

I’m just a Mom. I will love them. The rest will just follow that.

I’ve not yet heard of this “Justa Mom”. Is it new?
You know, I heard that the Albatross pre-chews their babies’ food for a whole year. Can you imagine? Talk about a Helicopter bird!

Please go away.

Motherhood the Second Time Around: A Brief Retrospective

I feel very lucky to be a mom. I feel even luckier to be a mom of two healthy, happy kids. I’m still pretty new at this, Mimi’s only just three, so I haven’t screwed it up too badly yet. But there’s still time. Mother’s day has made me take inventory of all of the things I think I’m doing well and some of the things at which I am a massive failure. One thing that has struck me while thinking of these things is how I am different with each of my children. I’ve heard that a mom will be much more relaxed with her second child and be more apt to let things slide. What I didn’t know is how slippery of a slope that can be!

1st: You dropped your bottle on the floor! Let me get you a freshly sterilized one.
2nd: You dropped your bottle on the floor! Let me lick off the dirt.

1st: Oh look! You got your fourth tooth! Let me write that down. Fourth. Tooth. Tuesday, September 14, 2:37pm. Got it!
2nd: Ouch!! When did you get all those teeth??

1st: I will cook all of your baby food. No jars for you. Only fresh, organic food!
2nd: Finish this creamy corn casserole I got on sale and then let’s see if you can figure out how to suck the food out of this squeezy thing all by yourself.

1st: She’s crying! I’ll go get her! She can just sleep on my chest.
2nd: What? He’s crying? Again? Ok. Well he’s got to stop eventually, right? Let me just finish my wine.

1st: Let’s go take a tubby!
2nd: When did I last bathe you?

1: I want you to know that girls should have more than just pink.
2: I want you to know that pink can be a very masculine color…

1st: She’s crawling! Let me follow you around with my camera.
2nd: He’s crawling! Thank God! Now go get yourself that ball and chase it for a while.

1st: It’s your first birthday! Here’s your first taste of sugar!
2nd: How do five chocolate chip cookies for lunch sound?

1st: She can’t have a lollipop! She’ll choke!
2nd: He can’t have another lollipop. He’s already had two.

1st: No I haven’t put her down today, why do you ask?
2nd: Where on earth did I put him?

1st: I am doing this all wrong
2nd: I think I’m doing this right

1st: I am so lucky
2nd: I am so very very lucky

A Brief Meditation

After I dropped my daughter off at school this morning, my son fell asleep in his carseat. Rather than try to unsuccessfully transfer him to bed then spend the rest of the day trying to catch up on the lost nap, I’ve decided to sit with him in the car. It’s delightful. It’s a gray, rainy morning, I’m warm and toasty with my personalized heat settings. I’ve turned on the radio. I’ve just turned off the radio after hearing the same four songs on every station. And now I’m sitting in the quiet. I have coffee and a chocolate donut (I already ate the other chocolate one) and it is delightful.

This is my version of meditation. I wish I could meditate. I really do. I’ve tried a little. But there’s always that snarky devil on my shoulder whispering, “You’re meditating? Really? Isn’t that just sleeping sitting up?”. I’ve never been able to quiet and clear my mind. It seems it’s always a jumbled mess. When I was young, I had a terrible time falling asleep. I just couldn’t shut my head off. My mother gave me several ideas on how to try to get to sleep:
1)Say the alphabet backwards. I gave it a try but I would end up annoyed that W sounds like double U when really it looks like double V and I would vow to correct it in my own life by making my W’s curvy with no points from then on. (This annoyance would catch fire later in life after learning the Spanish alphabet and hearing the beautiful and image correct sounds of “doble-vey”). So the alphabet was out.
2)Try tensing each one of your muscles one at time from your toes to your nose
This stood no chance. I’d start with my toes and automatically my hands would get pissed I wasn’t getting to them fast enough and they’d make a fist. So I’d have to start over. I’d get as far as my knees and my shoulders would start shrugging followed by my toes wanting another stretch. Tensing in order just created a waiting room of impatient to-be-tensed muscles in my crowded mind. Muscles- out.
3)Take slow, deep breaths. Dear God this one was and still is a disaster. I have a strange aversion to thinking about the circulatory/respiratory systems. It makes me light headed and I’ve been known to faint. At the peak of my childhood insomnia, I was learning about these things in school. Science class was a daily exercise in head spinning and survival. I finally got around it by closing my ears and ferociously doodling about boys while my teacher explained it, then later teaching it to myself pretending it was all a giant train station. Taking deep breaths caused me great anxiety. Am I breathing at a regular rate? Do I have to? What if one breath is short and the other breath is long? Am I screwing up my heart rate? Am I getting enough oxygen in here? I think my nose is too close to the wall. Maybe I should open a window. But it’s freezing out. What happens if the temperature of the air changes? Does hot air make my heart beat faster than cold air? Have I breathed in the last thirty seconds? I can’t remember. Was it short or long? Oh my god I think my capillaries are going to explode. After seeing “The Karate Kid”, I tried the Mr. Miyagi breathing: hands in prayer, push up over head, down. Push out from the heart, back in. It just made my arms tired.
Breathing in and out? Out.

As an adult, I found my sleeping/relaxing problems worsen. It was as if by laying on the pillow, I was compressing a brain button that opened the lock on all thoughts and worries I’d stored up. And I let them all through, single file, marching from my brain, down my spine where they’d make stops to tie my muscles into knots and then settle in my belly for a camp out. In college I tried to relax by drinking and smoking cigarettes. Strangely, this didn’t work. I threw in running. This works well until I start thinking about my heart rate rising and my breath quickening (see above). Yoga is great until I get to shavasana. “Rest deeply” is more like think deeply about what I going to eat when I get home. But then I became a mom.

Now there is zero time for resting or relaxation. There’s no quiet space in which to practice meditation. If I sit or lie down, My daughter immediately sets out to climb me with her baby brother acting as her Sherpa guide. Running is something I do with the kids. A run these days is a few jogging steps then several stops to adjust the kids safety belts, check if one is asleep, give them snacks… If my heart rate does get up, I’m too busy to notice. Yoga is something I get to do once a week between getting dinner on the table and putting the kids to bed. But luckily, thankfully, when I climb into bed, I’m completely exhausted. I can fall asleep anywhere. Finally! I don’t get much of it, but in the spaces between babies waking, I sleep deeply. My mind is more full these days but it’s also more quiet and calm. My kids and the joy they bring, soothe me.

And every now and then a lovely pocket like this springs up. My son is still asleep, my coffee is still hot and my donuts were delicious. It turns out, that’s all I need today.

Needing Umbrellas

My daughter was born in 2009. After thirteen weeks maternity leave, I went back to work full time. During my commute on the train, I would write to her in journals to feel near to her. It’s been great to look back at those early, harried days of being a new Mom and see how I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. Here’s a look back at only my second day back. Not a good start…

May 27, 2009
Day two is not going as planned. You woke up twice last night. Once around 2am then again at 4:30. You weren’t very hungry at 4:30 so I pulled you into bed with me, my favorite thing to do. You and I have just been mastering nursing lying down. It’s great! We can both snooze and I get to snuggle you very close. So we snoozed and snuggled… It was cold so I held you close. Your cheeks were pink and your lips were tied in a perfect bow. I got up to shower and left you sleeping soundly next to your Dad (you looked like twins!) and that’s when the unraveling began.

I took a very quick shower and noticed it was raining so I changed my outfit plans. I was excited for the rain because it meant I get to wear my new Hunter rain boots (I love them. They might be too big but don’t tell Daddy because he gave me money for them for Christmas and you and I finally went to buy them and your Dad said I should take them back if they were too big but I didn’t because I really wanted to wear them. Plus I had already thrown the box away. Anyway, the moral of the story is I should have listened to your father because they are too big and they give me shin burn. But I’ll just secretly buy another pair 😉 )

Now where was I…
So I get dressed (I ironed my pants and all). I look nice! Light grey slacks, a black camisole, a white v-neck sweater. I put on my new amethyst necklace in your honor and jump into my rainboots. It’s 7:15. My train is at 8:01. And my right breast is about to explode. I have no pump. I left the pump at work.

I look at you. You’re beautiful. You’re cozy in your pink plush pajamas with darker pink hearts and a light green sleep sack and mittens I’d put on you in the middle of the night because your hands were cold. You were fast asleep and just oh so so beautiful.

So

I decided to wake you up.

I figured I didn’t want you to wake up starving. You had fallen asleep in my arms and you are used to waking up in my arms and latching on. I also knew I would leak all over my outfit if I didn’t feed you because I was the size of a bowling ball (too graphic?). So I pulled you gently into my arms, removed my breast, brushed your cheek with my finger… but you didn’t wake up! I looked at you adoringly, sleeping in my arms. You looked so sweet. And then it happened. Breast milk everywhere! All down my pant leg, soaked through my sweater, soaking your pajamas. Everywhere. By then I was running late for my train and had to run out wearing wet pants and too-big boots and I never got to feed you. Your mommy is a disaster.

The great thing though is that during all my chaos Uncle Danny called to tell us that Auntie Penny’s water broke last night at 11! The baby has been very stubborn and hasn’t wanted to come but hopefully you’ll have your very first cousin soon!

Water water everywhere… What a morning!

I love you xo

The Mom’s Guide to Relaxing

Ahhh relaxing. In my twenties, relaxing was easy. It was practically my job. I slept until noon, drank wine with lunch and enjoyed monthly mani-pedis. I watched hours of tv and listened to my favorite music on full blast. When I became a Mom, finding time to relax became less available but more necessary. The selfish indulgences of massages and facials got pushed from every month to every Mother’s day. Manicures chip faster when you’re scrubbing crayon off walls and drinking just makes me sleepy. TV now means Dora and Diego and all the music I hear involves farmers, farm animals and wheels on busses.

As a working Mom, I was able to find little pockets of the day to put my feet up and relax. I could read a book on my twenty minute train ride into town. In the morning, I would slowly drink a hot cup of coffee at my desk while I caught up on the latest news. During my lunch break, I could go sit in the park or stroll around and window shop (or actually shop and think of ways to hide the evidence.) Now that I’m a stay at home mom I find that there’s no time for reading, coffee gets cold pretty quickly and shopping and strolling aren’t about me anymore.

Stay at home moms are never alone (nor are they ever actually home but that’s another story for another day). But there are ways to relax. The key is to find some alone time, any alone time, and make the most out of it. The following are some of my favorite spots to kick back, enjoy some music and take a deep breath.

LOCATION: The Dentist
SOUNDTRACK: Barry Manilow and Barbra Streisand.
AMENITIES: Read a magazine in the waiting room. Lie back in a comfy leather chair and rest while a nice person cleans your teeth. No need for small talk. The nice person will squirt very cold water in your mouth. You probably haven’t had anything to drink in fourteen hours so go ahead and swallow it. Ask for more.
TIME SPENT RELAXING: One hour plus commute. Choose a dentist far from home. Tell your husband it’s because they’re the only practice who takes his weird dental insurance. Enjoy the hour drive.
BONUS: Give yourself a cavity polishing off your kids’ Easter candy and make an extra appointment for a filling or two. Skip the Novocain and go straight to the gas.

LOCATION: Eyebrow / Bikini Waxing Salon
SOUNDTRACK: Enya. Just go with it. The sooner you buy into her mournful whale sounds as good relaxation background music, the happier you’ll be.
AMENITIES: Lie down in a dark room while a nice(ish) person rips hair from your body. Some small talk will be initiated. Ignore it. A bright light may be shining on your face. Close your eyes and pretend it’s the sun.
TIME SPENT RELAXING: 45 minutes
BONUS: Go for leg waxing or a full Brazilian. They both take longer and for once you won’t mind the question, “Do you want me to do your bum?”

LOCATION: The Doctor
SOUNDTRACK: Silence or Muzak. Bring an iPod.
AMENITIES: Skip the family practice and choose an adults only doctor. Read a magazine in the child-free waiting room. Lie down as soon as you’re given a room and take a nap. Think of shots as acupuncture.
TIME SPENT RELAXING: 1 to 2 hours
BONUS: Make an appointment for an actual physical. It’s a longer appointment. Sleep one eye at a time during the eye test and with both eyes during the weigh-in.

LOCATION: The Gynecologist.
SOUNDTRACK: Belinda Carlisle, Laura Branigan
AMENITIES: The works. Grab a hot cup of tea on your way in. The waiting room is filled with tired mothers and mothers to be. No one will talk to you. Sit near the tired mothers. Laugh at the mothers to be and their blind optimism. Get taken to a room, lie down and literally put your feet up. Throw your feet into those padded stirrups and close your eyes. Feel the blood drain from your tired aching feet. Take a deep breath and scoot. Scoot a little more. A little bit more. Just a liiiiiitle bit more. Good. Consider the scooting exercise and call it a day.
TIME SPENT RELAXING: 1 to 2 hours
BONUS: Get an IUD. You can use the word “procedure” which buys you an extra hour at least.

Now if we can only get our Doctors to serve wine…

Thank you Kristen Z for the inspiration!

Sick Days

I have a confession to make. I used to secretly love it when my daughter would get sick. Just a little sick of course, not scary high fever sick. As a working mom, I would call in, gently scoop her up into my arms and hold her for the rest of the day. I would find myriad ways to make her feel better. I would rock her gently and sing her Beatles songs. We would snuggle together on the couch under a big pink blankie and watch movies. Her current princess obsession is actually the by product of watching my favorite sick day movie, Cinderella, during a 101 degree fever at 18 months. I would read hundreds of books to her. Anything so I could just hold her, stroke her hair and kiss her forehead. My heart would break at her vulnerability but I cherished the quiet time together and relished in the fact that she needed me. She needed and wanted mommy. I was so important that I’d even have to call in to work, burn a sick day to tend to her needs. These days felt indulgent and slowed down compared to the rest of the workweek. (Wait, which one of us was making the other feel better?)

Now that I have two children and no longer work, I find that those days are gone. Now, when my daughter falls ill, I’m instead reminded that she’s not my baby anymore. She herself likes to remind me of this. “I’m three! I’m a big girl!” I hear over and over. She’s had to grow up in so many ways since our son was born. I knew it, leaving for the hospital after my water had broken. I cried for our relationship. I knew it was ending in some significant ways. No longer would she be my one and only but she would share my time. Since our son has been so colicky, she’s had to make so many more sacrifices which she’s done with great grace. I’m impressed by my big girl. I can see it on her face. I don’t know if it’s resignation, wisdom, or experience but I can see it. It passes over her round cheeks and through her baby blues in an instant. She recognizes that I can’t play with her, read with her, pick her up… Whatever it may be. It passes through her and I can see her process it then disregard it. She’s become amazingly adept at letting go. She reads to herself, she plays with her dolls. She colors alone and shows me her work from across the room as I rock/feed/soothe my son. I try to spin it and think that this is her becoming more independent and I should be proud. And I am. But I miss my baby.

But now, when she is sick, her independence breaks my heart. When she’s at her most vulnerable, I can no longer just scoop her up and hold her all day. Our snuggling on the couch lasts as long as my son’s nap. Reading to her becomes a game of “keep away” from the crawling, grabbing infant. One night she woke with croup and she wanted me to lie down with her. I tried, in between fetching my screaming son, nursing him and rocking him back to sleep. She, meanwhile, took care of herself. She sat up to get more water. She pulled her blankets up to her chin and tucked herself in. She cautioned me not to kiss her lest I get sick. What does it mean that she doesn’t need her mother anymore? What if she doesn’t need me to tuck her in or hold her until she drifts into sleep? Now she sees my kisses as couriers for germs instead of healing touches. She doesn’t want to hear the Beatles. I missed my baby.

My fears didn’t last long. She has shown me that she still needs me. That she’s adapting to our new relationship just as she should be. It’s me who needs to catch up and accept that these changes are good; that our relationship is evolving and growing. I watch her mimic me when she takes care of her babies. The way she rocks Belle to sleep and feeds her green beans. The stories she tells to her stuffed animals are my stories. She loves to cook because I love to cook for her. She tickles her baby brother just like I tickle her. She’s not my baby anymore. She’s my big girl and she needs me in different ways. Instead of needing me to hold her all day long, she needs me to teach her how to stand up. I guess I’ll have to get used to it.

But she will always be my baby. One night before bed, I found her reading to her baby Tiana. She tucked her into her little bed and kissed her good night. She walked away for a minute then, remembering something, she ran over to her bed. “She needs her Mommy,” she said. She picked up her big Tiana doll and tucked her in next to the baby. “Ok, now she can sleep.” And so could I.

An Ode to Running

Ah, Spring, you’re back!
And just in time.
I’ve had running
on my mind.

Too long the cold
has kept me in.
The kids don’t like
to stroll in wind.

(Ok, it’s me.
I hate to run
In anything but
the warm, red sun.)

But spring is here.
I’ve got new shoes!
Dust off the stroller.
It’s time to cruise.

With snacks and water,
We’ll stroll for hours.
And welcome bees,
trees, birds and flowers.

Out in the sun,
my kids I’ll push
down streets, up hills
to tone my tush.

To feel the burn
jog slow, run quick.
My heart beats fast,
my legs feel thick.

Ah sweat! Sure sign
of victory!
Oh wait. Oh no!
Not sweat. It’s pee.

Oh the life of
a jogging mom.
Why must we run
with diapers on?

Mimi’s Favorite Pancakes

A few years ago, before children, my husband Matt and I spent a weekend with great friends in Eagles Mere, PA. The last day there, we went to breakfast. I wish I could remember the name of the spot because this is where I first had sweet potato pancakes. I’d never heard of such a thing and had to try them. I’m so glad I did. They were incredibly fluffy and delicious.
When Mimi started eating pancakes, I remembered our trip and thought adding sweet potatoes would be a nice way to add nutrition to something that was basically cake and sugar. Well, Mimi loved them. Now we make them part of her breakfast with lots and lots of fruit.

I love Bob’s Red Mill 10 grain pancake mix. It adds lots of whole grains and still tastes delicious.
For the sweet potatoes, you can cook a small one to purée (a short cut would be simply to mash it with some milk) or if you’re like me and you have a baby around, cheat and use a jar of baby food.

To one cup of mix, you add one egg and about a cup of milk to desired consistency. To make these pancakes even healthier, I replace the tablespoon of oil with the sweet potato purée.

Mimi loves cinnamon so we add a bunch and mix it up (apple pie spice and pumpkin pie spice are also a great addition to this recipe)

Today, in honor of spring, we’re making flowers. We’ll use a round cookie cutter and blueberries as the flower centers.

With the size of my cookie cutter, I can make about four flowers with each pancake. I space the blueberries out accordingly.

The scraps will be my morning treat 🙂
You can serve these alone with syrup stems and leaves. They’re bite sized and great for dipping in syrup or even some yogurt.

Or, arrange them with lots of cut fruits to make a beautiful garden. Here we’ve used blueberries, pears and strawberries. My son ate my banana sunshine so we added a butterfly. This way, the cake and syrup aren’t the centerpieces to your child’s meal but an accompaniment to yummy fruit.

I hope you enjoy these pancakes. It’s a great way to add lots of nutrition to a sweet breakfast treat.

Nana Clune’s Irish Bread

My Mother’s Grandmother Agnes was born in County Clare, Ireland. I remember her as a kind woman with a lovely smile. Though she died when I was young, she is present in her recipes. Our favorite is her Irish Bread. Purists would call it a railway cake or spotted dog because it contains eggs and baking powder. But in our house it’s always been Nana Clune’s Irish Bread.

This is wonderful to eat year round. Lightly toasted, spread with butter, it’s the best treat with a hot cup of tea (made with milk and sugar of course.) For St. Patrick’s Day, Mimi wanted to make it green.

Ingredients:
3 cups flour
5 tsp baking powder
2 cups sugar
3/4 tsp salt
3 eggs
1 cup milk
1/2 cup butter
1 cup raisins
1/2 cup currants
Powdered sugar

Set your oven to 350 degrees
In a saucepan, wisk together the eggs and milk. Add 1/2 cup of butter and melt over very low heat until the butter melts. Keep the heat low so the eggs don’t cook.

You can also temper your eggs first by slowly adding some of the warned milk and butter to them before adding to the saucepan but I find it works just as well to out it all together.

Add the raisin and currants and heat on low, stirring occasionally, for about twenty minutes or until the raisins plump and float in the mixture. This will allow the fruit to be suspended throughout the bread and not sink to the bottom.

Meanwhile in a separate bowl, sift the flour, baking powder, salt and sugar.

Add your raisin mixture to your sifted ingredients. (if you’re feeling festive, color your liquid ingredients before adding them to the flour)

Grease and flour a bread pan and pour the batter in 3/4 full.

Bake for an hour.

To make icing, mix confectioners sugar with water to the consistency you’d like. Keep it watery for a touch of sweetness. Add extra sugar for a thicker icing. After your bread has cooled, pour the icing over the top and allow it to run down the sides. Dust with powdered sugar and put the kettle on.

Of course the best way to enjoy any family recipe is to make it with your Nana. Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

The Diet for Quiet: the food!

It’s day 16 of the Diet for Quiet cleanse and we’re doing well. The end is in sight! It’s been very busy around here as it can be with two kids. Between fevers and teething and comeback fevers, there’s been little time to write which has bummed me out because there’s been a lot to talk about! My husband and I have been doing a slightly modified version of Kathy Freston’s 21 day cleanse. In her cleanse you eliminate all animal products, caffeine, sugar, gluten and alcohol. The “diet for quiet” is what I’ve been following since last summer when my son’s doctors discussed ruling out allergies to tame his colic. That eliminated dairy, soy, peanuts, beef and eggs. Not being able to eat soy on this cleanse disqualified a lot of great recipes and left little for protein. My husband and I decided to modify the cleanse to allow for an occasional piece of skinless chicken or fish for dinner.

This is our second time cleansing this way and this time has been much easier. In fact, we’ve eaten some really delicious food that we’ve promised ourselves we’d put into the rotation. Today, I’ll tell you about the food. Tomorrow, how we’ve really been handling it.

My husband requested a white bean and kale soup. I made this using garlic, shallots, celery, carrots, white beans (cannelini allubias), kale and veggie stock (I found Wolfgang Puck’s to be very flavorful. And also on sale :)). It’s warm and Yummy. Some diced tomatoes would be a nice addition but for now we like this earthy version.

Throughout this cleanse, I’ve been craving Mexican. We made these black bean burritos gluten free, meat free and cheese free and they were still delicious. On a warm corn tortilla, we layered brown rice, black beans, sautéed peppers and onions, salsa and sliced avocado.

Mimi and her cousin/soulmate Tucker made homemade pizza together. They layered on sauce, cheese, mushrooms, pepperoni, ham and peppers. Then as three year olds do, they refused to eat it. The pizza sat there on the table taunting me. Never mind that while it was baking, the aroma of the warm crust filled the entire kitchen. I felt a weak moment coming on so I decided to used those corn tortillas to make some personal “pizzas“. Instead of using pizza sauce which has sugar and corn syrup in it, I started with some canned puréed tomatoes. Then I sprinkled some oregano and garlic powder into the sauce and threw some vegetables on top. Mushrooms and onions with a few pieces of kale did the trick tonight. Though the tortillas do have a corn flavor, the tomato masks it well enough and served right out of the oven these make for some good comfort food.

For dinner one night I made cod en papillote. “En papillote” or “in parchment” is my new favorite way to cook fish. Just throw everything into the parchment paper, wrap it up and bake it and you’ve got a full meal which tastes amazing and leaves little mess (I generally use every pan I own when I cook so getting down to one is a huge accomplishment). I seasoned the fish with salt, pepper and ginger. I laid it on top of some baby bok choy, topped it with red onion, scallions, red pepper and cherry tomatoes and drizzled it with olive oil. For my mother who was eating with me I made a quick sauce using chicken stock, soy sauce, ginger, brown sugar, grainy mustard, shallots and garlic. It took fifteen minutes in the oven at 400 degrees. It was so colorful and beautiful I felt great eating it!

But what to do about satisfying cravings for sweets? My favorite by far has been a simple mixture of sliced almonds and raisins. It makes a great snack and really helps the sugar cravings.

So there’s just a few examples of some of the great food we’ve been eating on this cleanse. Everything meets all these stringent requirements for the 21 day cleanse and also Yum’s diet for quiet. No gluten, no sugar, no butter… All whole foods and all so so good. I hope we can keep it up!

Next time I’ll fill you in on how I decided Guinness is a vegetable.

Apple & Banana Tree

Mimi hears everything. Tonight, after dinner, Mimi overheared her Papa reading headlines under his breath. “Buy a banana tree for pennies”, he muttered. Mimi heard “buy a banana tree for (her aunt) Penny”. Which turned into “Let’s make a banana tree and pretend to be monkeys.” which then turned into “Let’s make an apple tree instead. Nope a banana tree. No, apple. Let’s make an apple banana tree!”
Sure!
Here’s what we whipped together before bedtime tonight:

All the while singing: “Mimi likes to eat eat eat apples and bananas…”

We foraged around for some materials and luckily found
An old roll of green wrapping paper and a wrapping paper roll
Yellow and red party streamers
Popsicle sticks
A paper bag
rocks
scissors
And tape

Mimi colored the paper bag like grass and the wrapping paper roll like a tree.

I cut the wrapping paper into banana leaves while my husband went outside and gathered some small rocks.

We placed the tree trunk into the bag and filled it with rocks to make it stand.

To make the banana leaves stick out we taped two Popsicle sticks to the underside of the wrapping( make sure they overlap), leaving two inches at the bottom. We cut small slits in the top of the roll and stuck in our Popsicle sticks.
We made ours like a palm tree. To make a true banana tree, tape Popsicle sticks all the way to the top of the leaf and place them pointing upwards.

We made apples by rolling up red streamers and hanging them on the tree with Christmas tree ornament hooks.

For the bananas we rolled some yellow streamers and taped them in bunches at the top.

Mimi had her own idea of what to do with the rest of the streamers…

Confession

Is it already Lent? Has been for a couple of weeks? I hadn’t noticed. I didn’t celebrate Mardi Gras so I missed remembering that it was Ash Wednesday. After breast feeding two kids, no one is throwing beads at me. (Yum throws food at me. Can that count?) Come to think of it, I do remember seeing one man with ashes, but it didn’t register. I’m what you call a bad Catholic. Or maybe I’m what the Church would call a bad Catholic and have been one for a long time. Not just because I eat meat on Fridays and never go to mass, but I also sin. A LOT.

My husband and I have been together for twelve years, married for almost five. That means that we had a whole lot of premarital sex before we got married. A bunch. Since being married…. Well that’s another story. My Catholic upbringing told me this was technically a sin. This idea was so ingrained in my system that once in college I decided I needed to confess it. To a priest.

In college I didn’t keep up my Catholicism, though going to a school with people of many different faiths sometimes served as competitive motivation. My Jewish friends were so strong in their convictions. I’d sometimes wonder where mine went. My roommate must have been feeling the same because she agreed to go to confession with me. It was the Lenten season, that time of year that reminds us that we’re all ungrateful sinners. Jesus is about to die for us and we should give something up like chocolate or swearing to make amends. In my Catholic lifetime, I only had one priest ever make sense on the Lenten subject. Father Charlie advised not to give something up but to do something extra: some community service for instance. That of course seems more noble and worthy of a death barter than giving up Hershey bars. Nonetheless, every year, bye bye chocolate, hello old familiar Catholic guilt.

My friend and I went to the Catholic ministry on campus. I was prepared to go kneel behind a curtain and start the routine. I worked desperately to remember the words to the “Act of Contrition”. I tried calculating the months, no years, to insert after saying, “Bless me father for I have sinned, it has been x since my last confession. These are my sins.” I reminisced on my first confession. The nuns had made us write down our sins to make sure we got every last one. I remember my list started with:

“I took three cookies when my mommy wasn’t looking
I pushed my little brother
I lied about taking cookies
I pushed my other brother
I covet cookies”

I was sure then that I had broken several commandments and made sure my list covered all bases so I could be cleansed of the deep dark black spot on my soul. Sitting waiting for confession fifteen years later, it struck me as silly.

When it was my turn, I was called into a large room with two chairs. The young priest asked me to take one. He wasn’t wearing his robes, just priest casual in the black shirt, pants and collar. There was no curtain. There was no kneeling. And he sat directly in front of me. The best part about confession was that it was done behind a screen. It was somewhat anonymous. Here I was two feet away from a strange man and I was supposed to look him on the eye and confess I regularly enjoy banging my boyfriend? Nuh-uh. But I had come there to do it. So I took a deep breath and broke into “Bless me father…” He stopped me. He said it was unnecessary and I should just talk. Wha?? This was not Catholic confession like I knew it. So I told him… About the banging… And he looked at me and said that it was ok. He asked me if I thought that it offended God. I said I did not. And he said he didn’t think so either. He told me that as long I was true to myself and that I was respectful of my body that I shouldn’t sweat the small stuff. And he absolved me. Officially. I left feeling soul cleansed and happy. It was Friday. My roommate and I headed back to the apartment to get ready to slap on some tight pants, dive into a box of pink Franzia wine and paint some black back on to our new purty souls.

I think it was after this that my Catholic foundation seriously crumbled. It had lived with cracks for such a long time. But after this priest (who I think really wanted to be a Protestant minister but chose Catholic priest to shut up his mother) told me it was ok to think for myself and that the rules of the Catholic Church weren’t as strict as they seemed, I lost the need to please the Church. Instead of giving up chocolate for Lent, I instead just woke up with the requisite Mardi Gras hangover and swore to give up drinking. For about three days.

Of course, it’s much more complicated than that. I have my own relationship with God, just not one with the Church. My religious upbringing is a big part of who I am. But so far, my kids don’t have their own religious upbringing. My husband is sort of an atheist. He was baptized in the Catholic church but didn’t go further than that. We weren’t married in a church. But we did baptize Mimi. I felt it was important. After all, I can ignore the rules about not eating meat on Friday but other beliefs, they’re harder to shake. Plus you get to dress the baby up, have a nice party and introduce her to your family. It’s a beautiful ceremony. You promise to bring her up in a good and moral way. I like it. And being in a church feels comforting and meditative for me and it got me thinking about what I want for her. Now we’re planning Yum’s christening and I’ll be thinking about these things again. Especially now that Mimi is three and understands life has its ups and downs. I recently read something that said give your children something to believe in to comfort them when you can’t. It struck a chord with me.

I don’t know. It’s a work in progress. Somedays I think all those rules served a good purpose in forming my life. But now it’s complicated by the fact that as an adult, a female adult, I strongly believe in many things the Church stands strongly against. I guess the answer for now is to give them a spiritual life that’s not dependent on rules. One that doesn’t discriminate against women or the LGBT community. One that says not only is it ok to be yourself but it is amazing to be yourself.

Of course it could be beneficial if the kids thought premarital sex was a big no no. At least until after College.

Cars Jigglers

Yum and Mimi’s Uncle just had his tonsils out. Mimi wanted to make him a treat. I suggested jello and Mimi thought making them into shapes would be a good idea. I have a great Cars pan from Williams Sonoma so we decided to use that to make jigglers. Any fun shaped pan will do. But here’s how ours came out.

Making jigglers is very easy but tricky with a toddler because of the boiling water. Please be careful!

You pour 2 1/4 cups of boiling water into a bowl of four 3oz packages of Jello. (we chose orange).

Stir until dissolved. Mimi is very good at taking directions so I let her stir very very slowly. In fact, she later chastised me for stirring too quickly.

After it has dissolved, pour the jello into your pan. We almost had enough for all of the cars!

Let it chill in the refrigerator for three hours. We mixed ours before preschool and it was ready when Mimi got home.

To dislodge the cars, set the pan in a hot water bath for just a minute or so. Enough to loosen but not melt them. Some of these cars are very deep so it took some coaxing to get them out.

And there you go! Really cute edible Cars. Mimi kept Lightning McQueen for herself. I considered putting bourbon in them for the patient. Maybe next time…