Month 2: Gone in a Moment

Dear Jimmy,

Two months old today. You're still a peanut, and when people notice you snuggled in my arms or the carseat, they almost always guess you're a newborn. You're filling out nicely from your original, wiry state, but you're still barely ten pounds. A lightweight. A snuggle bug.

Daddy is holding you now while you whimper and moan. It's about 9:30 PM, right in the middle of your colicky hours. Most nights, you fuss from 8 to 11 PM, giving your father and me a run for our money. Outside of these hours, though, you're a wonderful and easy baby. You're starting to smile more and more, delighting your siblings who love to kiss you whenever you enter a room. Your intially-spastic hand and leg movements (hey, that's how we all begin, Jimster) are becoming more controlled. You follow toys with your eyes and love to listen to music. Sometimes I put your little chair on the counter underneath my mounted radio and let you take in the tunes. (A secondary goal of this is to keep you up high and safely away from Tom and the Goose.)

Your brother started preschool today, and I bet both you and Lucy will benefit from his new independence. I'm eager to spend more quiet time with you and to learn what your wide eyes are learning.

I love you, my Jimmy!

Love, Mama

4 Years of Wedded Bliss

...and more to come! Yesterday, John and I celebrated our 4th anniversary. It's hard to believe how quickly these years have flown by; it seems like yesterday that John took me by the hand and we promised to make this life together. I can still see the youth and promise in his eyes.

After sneaking a peek through the locked doors of our 1920s-era reception site, The Commodore, John and I had a fabulous dinner at W.A. Frost in Saint Paul. It was an especially meaningful location because we hadn't been there since our wedding day, when we stopped by to sip champagne on their gorgeous patio between our ceremony and reception. Last night, the weather was a bit cool for an entire dinner on the patio, so we moved inside and reminisced about that day and the many that have followed. John proposed an amusing conversation of our marriage highlights and lowlights---by year. We laughed and inebriated ourselves, touching back to this topic throughout mixed drinks, champagne, and Spanish red.

The food and company were both exquisite. We started with a cheese plate, and did learn that unpasteurized goat cheese varies from our pasteurized love. (I believe we compared it to stinky sweat socks.) Next, we each had a salad and John's was a surprising, delicious blend of watermelon and (pasteurized) goat cheese with a balsamic garlic vinaigrette and pistachios. I will have to try to recreate that one. We shared the filet as an entree, and it was heaven-sent. I can still taste the light, mascarpone polenta in my mind this morning. For dessert, there was a trio to try---our favorites were a rhubarb strawberry cobbler and a crunchy, rich creme brulee. One of these days I'll take out a blowtorch and give that a go, too.

Though our house is 99% chaos right now, I am thankful each day to have John as a husband. It is not every man who takes his family so seriously, who loves his wife with tender devotion, who does the laundry and pitches in every way he can. Who wrestles with his children and prays with them every night. I can't wait to see what the next four---and forty---years have to offer.

Palin!

"Mommmm....Lucy bites!!!"

Such is the cry of my 3 year old. Little does he remember that a year and 1/2 ago, he was biting like crazy. The kid was kicked out of the gym childcare, for Pete's sake!

Lucy has indeed entered the wonderful world of ferocious biting. She's marked up cousin Wally pretty good, and isn't above biting anyone who disregards her toy preference. This time, though, we're taking action:

Portabello Sandwich

Who said John's birthday wasn't brimming with excitement? The day included a visit with a blackhawk helicopter pilot, a picnic in the city, an Alfred Hitchcock thriller, and a trip to the local emergency room.
And a delicious portabello mushroom sandwich.

To enjoy, combine:
1/4 C balsamic vinegar
1/4 C extra virgin olive oil
1 t dried, crushed basil
1 t garlic
1 t sea salt
dash of freshly ground pepper
-----------------------------
other ingredients include:
3 portabello mushroom caps
1/4 C (several slices) red onion
4 T mayonnaise
1 t orange juice
fresh, sliced tomato
havarti cheese*
thickly sliced artisan bread or other crusty bread, toasted

Combine the first set of ingredients in a large pan (and a bit more olive oil, if necessary). Saute 3 sliced portabello mushroom caps and a few slices of red onion on low heat. The saute will take about 10 minutes, until the onions and mushrooms are tender and plump.

Meanwhile, combine about 4 T mayonnaise with 1 t orange juice. Set aside.
Now, here comes the tricky part.

Ideally, you should toast the bread so it's quite crusty. There is a lot of moisture in this sandwich. I used a toaster to mediocre results. Perhaps it would be best to carefully broil the bread with a havarti cheese slice on 2 pieces of the bread.

Then, assemble the sandwiches. Each should have
2 slices bread
1 well-melted slice of havarti
generous heap of portabello mushroom slices and onions
1-2 T citrus mayonnaise
several slices tomato

Eat hot. Yum!!

*Havarti cheese is one of my favorites, but I'd bet that goat cheese would be a fabulous addition to this sandwich. I think we'll try that next time.

Best

Waking up from a nap when you slept so hard, you woke up as if from a full night's rest.

Lucy Goose on her Throne

Oh, if only you had a sweetheart like my Lucy Lu. She is such a snuggler these days and is at my favorite age (don't tell the other kids) because she seems to learn new words a mile a minute. Sure, she throws her fair share of tantrums, but overall, she's a sweetie pie.

This weekend, we decided spontaneously to visit John's family in Wisconsin. The kids played hard all day on Saturday, running through the yard, digging up Grandpa's rock patio, and periodically running inside for Grandma's $250 cookies. Yum. Despite no naps, our two oldest were up screaming and moaning til nearly 11 at night. I thought they would never go to bed. It is such a challenge to travel with little kids...any change in routine can send them over the edge.

On the drive home yesterday, the kids and I both crashed. They fell asleep within seconds of the engine starting, and I fell apart because of lack of sleep/hormones/too much caffeine. Close to home, we stopped for gas and Lucy woke up.

"Baby!! Poopy! Ouch!" she told me. For a minute, I was confused. "Do YOU have to go poop?" I asked. "Yea," she replied.

I rushed the Goose into the gas station and sat her on the potty, where she pointed in amusement at a bunch of flies. Gross.

Although that attempt was unsuccessful, she pooped in her diaper at home later last night. Wanting her to further associate poop with the potty, John brought her to the bathroom after changing her and sat her again on the throne. This time, she grunted and went poop!!

I'm no fool this time around. I know Lucy won't be trained in a day, and maybe not even in a year. But a little glimpse into a one-kid-in-diapers world? I'll take what I can get.

All the Livelong Day

Today is the first day that my kids haven't screamed for 8 out of 10 hours. I'm not really exaggerating...as I told my mother-in-law, at least one of three is whining or screaming at any given moment. In fact, I consider it a pleasant moment if only one kid is screaming. So, that's how it's going. I don't really answer the phone (too hard to hear anyone with all the screaming and whining) or post on my blog (too hard to think with the constant headache).


Look at these bugs, though. It's hard to hate 'em.

I had a particularly difficult night with Jimmy on Wednesday. His screaming wouldn't end, forcing me to end a social engagement with great embarrassment. Aren't you supposed to know how to silence them by the 3rd kid? Anyway, last night John suggested that I take a break and enjoy the hot tub at the gym. It would figure that as soon as I entered the locker room for a long hot shower, a toddler with keen instinct started throwing the Tantrum to End All Tantrums. Hey, I'm a pro-family girl, but in that moment, I just wished to transport them to the appropriately-labeled Family Locker Room.

Retroactive Word of the Day: Milliner

milliner: Noun. A person who makes or sells women's hats [originally Milaner a native of Milan, once famous for its fancy goods].

I can't lunch with you today, Kathryn. I'm visiting the milliner to design my third violet hat.

Time to Sit Still for Just a Moment: One Month In

Dear Jimmy,
I'm sitting at our kitchen table, and you're tucked away in your car seat on the living room rug. You seem to prefer slumber in your car seat over any other place; so far, you've spent every night in that utilitarian little bed.
Our family is turned upside-down in love with you. The house is chaos with a newborn, a 1 and 1/2 year old, and a 3 year old, but no one really seems to mind. I've pretty much given up cleaning in exchange for feeding you and defending you from baby-loving siblings. Tommy and Lucy have their ears continually perked to hear the slightest noise coming from your lips. "Jimmy's awake!!" "Yimmy!!"
We watch for your eyes to open, we admire your long, slender fingers. We give you kisses and wait for you to join in the laughter of what has become, to be honest, our little family circus.
It's exhausting to be a mom to 3 kids so demanding of my time and energy---mental and physical. Most of the time, I feel like I could fall asleep on a moment's notice, Jimster. But then, there are days like today, when I wake up and realize the beauty that I'm blind to when I cave in to that exhaustion. In this chaos, I have to focus on the love that binds us.

You're starting to put just a little meat on your bones. I've been waiting for that to happen, and it makes my soul smile to see your round face with milk dribbling down to a slightly double chin. You have that sweet smell of baby, and I know I'm in love when even your dirtiest diaper smells wonderful. How strange is that? But it's the truth.

Today, Daddy fed you the 1st bottle.
Tomorrow, you'll probably be gabbing away like Lucy.
Or donning super-hero costumes like Tommy.
It goes so fast, my baby. I just want you to be my littlest for a while.

I love you, Jimmy.
Mama

Word of the Day: Mensch

A person having admirable characteristics, such as fortitude and firmness of purpose: “He radiates the kind of fundamental decency that has a name in Yiddish; he's a mensch” (James Atlas).

Little Captain

Tommy has been bugging me for about a week to purchase him a new hook. Where do you buy a hook when it's not Halloween? I had to resort to creativity. Gladware + straw + tape + aluminum foil = Hook. For the advanced version, apply black paint.

Here is an excerpt from this morning's pirate outing.
Neighbor Zach [exiting his home as he sees us walk past]: I heard all the noise and had to see what was going on....niiiiice hook!
Tommy [waving his hook, obviously]: I'm a pirate! And I have a new hook! We've got to fight the dragons! They're breathing fire!
Zach: Whoaaa...you're going to fight the dragons all by yourself?
Tommy: Yes! I'm a pirate.
Zach: I would be scared to fight them all by myself.
Tommy [looks at Zach as if he's missing critical brain cells]: Well....you don't have a hook.

One of Us

No baby's assimilation to our family is complete without the adoption of a standard nickname. With Tom, the weeks went by and he became first, Tommy Tupalo and then Tommy T. Toop, and finally, The Toop. With Lucy, she was, fairly naturally, Lucy Goose. It's hard to predict how nicknames will develop, and you certainly can't attempt to define one pre-birth. For Jimmy, time has yet to tell...but for now, he is my Jimster.

Tom and Luce are both proud of and affectionate towards their brother. At first, it seemed their love would be Jimmy's demise. During Jimmy's first days, I almost had a heart attack when Lucy tried to claw her way on top of both Jimmy and me while he nursed. Jimmy's getting older, though, and I'm getting slightly wiser. Now, whenever the kids want to see Jimmy, I encourage them to give him a good 'ol kiss. This peck of affection seems to be all they really need; they just want to be allowed to touch Jim and to show him he's in the club.

He's Here!!

Jimmy.

Can I Handle This?

Life is never quite exciting enough for Tommy. As we piled into the car this morning, planning to hit the gym and then visit the local fire station afterward, Tommy donned his baseball batting helmet and began his usual routine of foolin' around in the car.

Generally, Tommy takes to the back of the car, climbing over seats and grinning at me in evil amusement because he knows A) how mad I am going to get and B) that there is not much chance I can actually catch him, since my pregnant belly will not contort into the shape necessary to get over the car seats and into the back row of the minivan.

This morning, however, Tom took to his more-dangerous habit of playing with switches and buttons in the front of the car. You can probably guess where this is going. He took a good, long look at me and then locked the car. I was annoyed, but one door was open...so no problem. I manually unlocked another car door and proceeded to get Tom strapped into his car seat. Then I shut his door and, in slow motion, heard...the... automatic...locks...re-locking...the...front...door. Didn't know that was a bonus feature.

With both kids strapped and my keys locked up tight, I panicked. It was a hot morning, and while we were in the shade of the garage, I didn't know how fast things would heat up in there. Thankfully, Daddy excused himself from work for an hour to drive out and save the kids. As we waited for him to arrive, I tried unsuccessfully to pry open the front window and stick a homemade hook contraption onto the auto-lock button. Tommy cheered me on and kept urging me to, "Use Daddy's hammer!!...It's right over there in the toooooooool box!!"

Kids are a riot, but sometimes, my Grandpa is right: Don't be in such a hurry to get them on the outside (of your body). They cause less trouble in your stomach.

Hormonal Thriller

Well, the verdict is in: #3 is scheduled to be born 2 weeks, 4 days early on Tuesday, July 8. July 8 seems like a fine enough birthday, but it's definitely no 4th of July.

John and I both went to the doctor this morning; the ultrasound tech pronounced the baby to be of normal size for this point in the pregnancy. Nothing is really normal about baby size in our family, so we'll see whether her predictions ring true two weeks from tomorrow.

After the doc, John picked out some fancy new eyeglasses and then we headed for lunch at a longtime favorite, Punch Pizza. By this point, I was feeling nauseated from hunger and thirst. (Normally, I have about 3 glasses of water and ice chips by 11am, and I forgot to bring even one bottle of water with me to the doc.) As we ordered our pizza, I requested a BIG Coke. The biggest available. I didn't realize the cups were refillable.

As John and I laughed over my urgent and desperate plea for cola, I suddenly found my laughter turning into tears...uncontrollable ones. John quickly tried to make amends, "I didn't meant anything by it, dear!" I knew he didn't. It was just a strange and sudden hormonal shift.

I have a feeling many more are on the way.

Salute to the End

It's getting to be the bitter end: the point at which I must waddle instead of walk. This morning, the kids sat in the double stroller as I waddled around the marsh near our home. Geez, pushing that thing is burdensome. It is actually easier to run than waddle behind that stroller.

At most, I've got 2 weekends left before this baby makes a grand entrance into the world. The baby is wide awake right now, pushing and prodding around in my belly, which sticks out over the edge of my laptop keyboard as I type.

I can't say that pregnancy is enjoyable yet---no, no; far from it. However, it does seem to have gone by a little more quickly and a little more smoothly this time. Perhaps that's due to the other rugrats occupying my time. Or maybe I've just become somewhat numb to what seems a constant stage of my life.

Some of the things I will appreciate post-partum include:

1.)Putting on underwear more easily. I'm not talking about size here; I'm talking about balance. It is very difficult to balance on one foot and angle your other foot into a tiny hole when you can't see that hole because your belly is in the way.
2.)Chasing my kids around and giving them kiss attacks. Unfortunately, pregnancy prevents some of the most fun tickling and wrestling that parents love to do.
3.) Bike riding. It seems like every darn summer, I keep saying how much I miss bike riding. Then I get knocked up again and I'm afraid to fall off the bike.
4.) Booze. Well, most of you know I'll indulge in an occasional drink while pregnant. Dr. He-Man says it's fine, people! But it will be nice to order a glass of wine at a restaurant again. Public scrutiny is quite intense at my size.

My Birthday Boy

Up on the Scale

So, I'm feeling pretty proud of myself. This is my 1st pregnancy that I will actually fall within the doctor-recommended weight gain specifications, and let me tell you, it has been no easy task. I am still running...a slow 2 miles this morning, and I am feeling so much better than I did at the end of either other pregnancy. I've gained 27 lbs., and imagine I will be up to 30 by the time the next 3 weeks are through.

I recently saw a poster at the gym that said maintaining your health (or weight?...not sure) is about 20% physical exertion and 80% nutrition. Yikes. Unfortunately, I had to tip the scales with extra physical effort, because I still ate plenty of ice cream this time around.

I hate to do it, but for those who are reading this blog and are in or anticipating their 1st pregnancy, please heed my warning of not listening to the many who will tell you it's OK to eat for 2. It's really not. Trust me; I've done it. The weight is hard to lose, and you're better off gaining less to start with. I don't know how I would have kept up with Tom and Lucy this month if I'd been where I was at the end of my last pregnancy.

Anyway, the point of this entry is to celebrate! How often is it that I can step on the scale proud of myself at 8.5 months pregnant? Three cheers for Anne! Thank goodness the end is in sight.

Sparkless

I recently saw a movie preview for Nights in Rodanthe, and for some reason beyond me, I was moved to finally pick up a Nicholas Sparks novel.

Bad choice.

I'd resisted him vehemently (in writing and on film) even after everyone I knew recommended The Notebook. I can't speak for that particular piece of international phenom, but Nights in Rodanthe was utter sap.What a waste of precious free time.

Curried Chicken Salad

This is something John and I have enjoyed since we lived in the city. Now I can make it in the suburbs!

Envy & Animosity Humbled

I was getting ready at the gym this morning when a tiny woman scooted in next to me. Irked to see her cute little body, I mentally sighed and wondered when my pregnancy would be over. I became more annoyed with her when she asked to share the (small) mirror to get ready beside me. Do I really have to primp next to Ms. Perfect?

Of course, she inevitably had to ask whether I was having a boy or a girl, and when the baby was coming. I responded in my best do-I-have-to-make-small-talk-with-everyone-just-because-I'm- pregnant voice.

She seemed not to perceive my emote, and instead sighed herself.

"You're so lucky," she said. "I just finished a round of in vitro fertilization. Sorry if it seems like I've been staring at you."

"I hope it works," I managed, surprised that she would share something so personal with me.

"It didn't," she said. "It was so expensive, and we don't have the money to do it again..."

Silently, I nodded as she went on for few moments, telling me what was in the deepest part of her heart.

Nothin' Sweeter

There's nothin' sweeter than a toddler gal in a tank top.You can see her tender little shoulders and arms, with just a tad of sunshine and a squeeze-worth of baby fat left. There's nothin' cuter...except maybe when you buy her a new pair of shoes, and her little girl legs seem so much different.And she walks with a new bounce.And she giggles and smiles and sits down often to examine her new acquisition.Ladies and gentlemen, she's a shopper!

This Many [Holding up 3 Fingers]

Dear Tommy,
It seems your toddlerhood is slipping (or "swipping") away from us.When I look at the calendar for this month, I can hardly believe your 3rd birthday is just days away.We did have to dash your hopes of having one of those real, working cars, but your other request for birthday strawberries will definitely be fulfilled.

As before the birth of your sister, I find myself strangely sentimental this month, wanting to snuggle you and hold you and just savor the relationship we have right now, before it changes.I don't fear the change, but I do know that things will be somehow different.And aren't they perfect now, with two giggling bugs chasing around our house?You are eager to meet the baby pushing you from inside my tummy, though...you seem unworried.

You are turning into such a smart and considerate boy, Tommy.You bombard me constantly with questions, asking just this morning where bikes were made and and what "suddenly" means.You never seem to forget our answers; instead, you repeat them aloud for several days or months as if committing them to memory is the most important task at hand.(I think this is a compulsion you get from Daddy.) "Frightened means scared!" "Exert means to try harder!"

We've been working our way through the alphabet lately, mostly so I could focus on something other than pregnancy.Things are finally wrapping up, and this week, you're learning about the letter U.A picture of Tommy wearing "Underwear" hangs on my left...and rightfully so, as potty-training has consumed so much of our and your energy over these past months.It really did go more smoothly than I expected, but every so often, you hold onto your right to pee or poo where YOU so choose.I can only believe such determination will serve you well in other areas of your life.

One of your favorite things to do, now that the weather is nice, is take off on the Radio Flyer bike that Grandma Linda and Grandpa Eric gave you.We need to get a basket on that thing, because you're awfully fond of collecting rocks along your way, but you're perplexed when they fall off the back of the bike.You are fast as the wind, and can go at least a mile.Yesterday, you rang your little bell and waved at a gaggle of girls as you passed.

You are a wonderful brother most of the time.When Lucy wakes up in the morning, you rush to give her a kiss.You tell me when she wants to eat yogurt or get a drink. You find her special bunny when she's sad.With gentle reminding,you are eager to share with Lucy.You become more happy when she is happy.I hope this lesson is one that sticks with you in life...to complete another's joy brings our own.

I will never forget the feeling of responsibility and joy and relief we experienced the day we drove you home from United Hospital in our little Volvo three brief years ago.I cried in that moment as I realized you were everything life could offer. And you really are.
To be a mother is to know a completeness that often overwhelms, but equally inspires.
I love you, Tommy.Happy Birthday.
Mama

Protect and Defend

John and I watched a documentary on FDR a few nights back, and it struck me, as it often has in motherhood, how the idea of war changes when you are a parent.
On a daily basis, I'm forced to think about these hundreds of little things to protect my kids from---bee stings on the front porch, choking on peanuts, crossing the street without looking. Obviously, these are minutiae compared to what one confronts in wartime.
What would it be like to be the parents ripped from one another and their children as they segregated into genders in the Holocaust concentration camps? What would it be like to pray genuinely and pleadingly for the life of your child to be safe?
Really, these thoughts are almost too grounding for a mom to contemplate. So, I'm content to worry about what will happen if Tommy drinks too much apple juice, or if Lucy doesn't get enough exposure to baby word books.
And then, every so often, I realize just how blessed we really are.

Shrimp & Curry on Top

Frozen, cooked shrimp is a great on-hand freezer item. Shrimp goes well with pasta or rice, and is complemented by many vegetables, although it can easily stand alone.

Last night, I attempted to replicate a shrimp dish I'd made some time ago at Let's Dish (by the way, great value for your money) but I had to do it mostly from memory, since my camera-phone pictures of the recipes didn't turn out as well as I'd hoped.

Shrimp & Curry on Top
ingredients
3-4 T butter
1 T curry powder
3 T onion, chopped finely (I used red)
1 t minced garlic
1 can chickpeas, drained and rinsed
3/4 C sliced baby bella mushrooms
10 baby carrots, sliced
20 frozen, cooked shrimp
white or (better) jasmine rice, prepared per package instructions
directions
1. On medium-low heat, melt butter and saute in garlic, curry powder, onion and carrots. Take care not to burn garlic. Keep on low heat about 5 minutes.
2. Add chickpeas and shrimp to pan. Cover, stirring occasionally under shrimp is heated through--about 10 minutes on medium (it will shrink as it heats).
3. Add mushrooms and saute about 2-3 more minutes.
4. Serve in bowls atop the rice.

There are so many great things about this recipe---for one, I love the hearty addition of chickpeas, which I never use in the kitchen otherwise. What else do you make with chickpeas? Another great thing about this recipe is that almost any vegetable could be substituted---broccoli, green peas, snow peas, etc.

Unjust

There are so many moments of motherhood for which I'm not proud. This morning was a biggie. It started out when Tommy refused to eat his cereal, changing his mind after several bites and declaring that he wanted toast. On the principle that we don't waste food, I let him be excused from the table instead of eat his cereal. Then I reminded him that he'd get no snacks because he had wasted so much.

A two year old can't go long on an empty stomach, though: several hours later, we were trying to get motivated and head to the gym, when Tommy threw a high tantrum about his inability to pull his pants down to go potty. I know he can pull his pants down; this has just become an issue for Tom to press, an area of control that I usually allow him because I just want him to get the job done. Over the last few weeks, though, I've pressed him to become more self-reliant since I'm getting astronomical and it's hard to do all those little, bending jobs.

Anyway, if you're a Mom, you can probably envision the screaming tantrum that ensued. Tommy hungry, me frustrated. I'm not sure who was louder or more ridiculous. I yelled at the top of my lungs, he wriggled, laying on the bathroom floor and refusing to pull down the sweatpants. Finally, he peed his pants and I just lost it.

Soon into my tirade, I recognized that I was out of control and that my behavior was doing much more damage than good. I dropped to my knees and held Tommy, shaking and crying. I said I was sorry for yelling, and he whimpered, "I don't like yelling, Mom." I feel awful to admit how horrible I could treat Tommy; how little patience and understanding I gave him this morning.

But Tommy forgave me and went back, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, to loving me as if I'd done nothing wrong. So unconditional. So childlike. So inspiring.

Why can't I forgive things so quickly and completely? Why can't I be patient more of the time? Sometimes life seems to rise up and present these completely simple ideas---fairness towards others, for instance---that are so much harder to act out than I'd like to admit.

Maternity Shopping Spree?

I stopped in at Ann Taylor Loft recently to check out the accessories. With the pregnancy coming to a close, I'm not in the market for any more maternity wear, and am instead left to dream of regular clothes (maybe I'll get to wear them for a few months this time?) and accessories. Imagine my surprise when I learned that they'd been carrying cute maternity clothes all this time! I guess I saved myself a bunch of money with that knowledge in secret, but if you're a working woman spending cash on a growing belly, I'd check them out.

Gestation: Almost Complete

I checked in with Dr. He-Man today, and we are indeed in synch: gestation will be complete, in my case, at 37 weeks. He said I'm measuring a little big. That puts #3's birth at approximately the 4th of July (which I've been planning on since day 1). I am also supposed to have an ultrasound at 35 weeks.

Thank goodness the end is in sight.

Delicious and Quick Vegetables

Everything tastes better with goat cheese. Today, I sauteed green beans and portabello mushrooms in butter and sprinkled it lightly with salt. Then I added a healthy amount of goat cheese. A simple, hot salad that John and I both loved!

Eat Your Vegetables

Tommy was hungry for a snack, so I gave him a bowl of dry HoneyCombs while he watched Sesame Street. Twenty minutes later, he was back: "I'm still hung-ary, Mom! Can I have some more HoneyCombs, please?"
"No, Tom, we're going to eat lunch in a little bit, so that's enough snacks."
And then, knowing I'll say yes: "Then, can I have a carrot, Mom? Please?"
And then, knowing I think it's cute that he has finally learned to hold up a correct number of fingers on his hand: "Can I have [pause to count out the fingers] two carrots?"

Happy Mother's Day to Me!

I was hoping you'd be able to see more of #3 in this picture, but s/he's a little crowded by the siblings.

Obvious

Foolish Husband to his Pregnant Wife: Why'd you want me to pick up that ice cream at the store?
Wife: [Long pause.] So I could eat it.

15 Short Months

Oh Lucy,

I stole this picture that Katy took. It was perfect timing, really: I'd just been thinking today how beautiful you were growing before my eyes. The time has flown and soon, you won't even be my littlest baby. But you'll always be my Lucy.

There is a spark in you, Miss Lucy, that everyone seems to see.You make friends wherever we go. People can't help but notice your giggling demeanor and the way you race, wobbling, from place to place. Just the other day, a quite random boy at the gym daycare proclaimed you were his best friend. I'd never seen him before! He was at least 5! Many of the older kids there have taken you on as their own. They gush when you walk in the door, and wave goodbye, reaching out to touch you as we leave. What is it about you, Lucy? What makes everyone notice?

It's no surprise to a mother that her baby is shining and full of light. Luz. Several months ago, you began singing that rock-a-bye song in your rocking chair, melting my heart.There seems to be music gushing from you. In the car, you hum along to the radio in that soft voice.You actually murmur---in rhythm---to the ABCs and the Wheels on the Bus. You are learning and using so many words---ball, moo, bah, bottle, drink, milk, cookie, jump, up, down,Uh Oh. You lay in your bed when you're tired, and you never fuss. You just seem to love sleep when it's time for sleeping, and to love life when it's time for waking.

We are so lucky to be your family, Lucy. You are a fighter, the kind of girl who chases down what she wants and sometimes trips violently...but then you get up, brush off the tears and blood, and keep going. How can a girl not yet 15 months do that? Do you need me? Or do I need you more?

The line is so blurred.I will always be loving you, my baby.

Mama

Updates from the Single Mom

I'm a little behind on my May posting.I had all kinds of great plans for this month, including secret May Day baskets, sunshine, and long walks with the kids.Unfortunately, for the first part of this month, my dismal third-stage-of-pregnancy depression emerged and none of these plans materialized.My body is starting to feel the toll of this baby weight, I'm getting scared that I might not be able to work out through the whole pregnancy, and John also had to go to California for work.

I felt bad for John as he left town.I was having one of my emotional breakdowns, in which I question whether I'll be able to handle the three rugrats. He didn't want to leave me in my tearful state.

Things have been going pretty well in his absence, though. This morning, the kids and I journeyed to the nature center and saw my favorite spring flowers, the hyacinth, peeping up.Tom cooperatively refrained from jumping in the ponds, and then everyone took a good, long afternoon nap.

Not too much can take away from sweet-smelling hyacinth and a well-slept mom, but I do have a slight chafing issue. I'll spare you the details.

Happy spring!

Just An Ordinary, Momentous Day

As I sit down tonight after a fourteen-plus hour day of full-time mom duty, it strikes me that often the moments of most poignancy in this role are surrounded by moments of utter chaos. Allow me to elaborate.

Today was a big day for Tommy, and for Lucy, too. Just since my last post, Lucy said "Grandpa!" and "baseball!" (both of which I had to discern a bit, but were indeed verified by a secondary adult party.) Tommy entered what I felt to be a new stage when he went over to play at his friends' home this afternoon without me.

I'm not sure why it felt so monumental to send Tommy trotting off to another person's home. I leave him at the gym daycare practically every day, although I guess that's not quite as personal of a setting (and I also am right upstairs). It struck me as a very grown-up toddler thing to do; to eat lunch and play for the afternoon.

When I picked Tommy up from his adventure, he was bursting with stories of all the things he'd done and all the fun he'd had. He wanted to stay, he told me. When I asked him if he'd like to have his friends over to play at our house sometime, he replied, "That'd be cool, Mom."

As Tommy napped off the fun, Lucy and I spent a bit more alone time together. She taught me what the cow says and what the sheep says. She giggled as she fed her baby doll the bottle and gave her a kiss. She backed her little bottom onto my lap and read her favorite chick book again and again. She snuggle with bunny baby, and danced around her sunny yellow room to the I'm a Little Teapot song.

Perhaps I pushed the kids both too much when we left the house tonight to go to my nephew's baseball game. They were tired and ready to wind down, but I thought a 7 o'clock game would be manageable. Indeed not. Tommy chased his cousin Claudia and her girlfriend all over the place, screaming at them, hitting them, throwing sand all over the place, scrambling over other parents who sent me my favorite look...that Oh my God, you're drowning in kids and you're doing this again??

My heart ached for Tommy despite his unruliness, actually: I knew he really just wanted to play with the girls, but sometimes when older kids get together, they push a little cousin aside and tell him he can't play, too. I guess as a youngest child, I understand that innate desire to want to be included. Nonetheless, Tommy's going to have to learn that violence isn't the answer.

Anyway, it was a traumatic end to a big day. There were tears because the baseball game wasn't over yet. There were tears because naughtiness means straight to bed. There were tears because we'll have to talk this all through with Dad, and I know Tommy doesn't want to disappoint anyone.

And then I realized, in the thick of all this discipline, that this is the first day I remember Tommy not having a single accident. He actually took off the clothes tonight that he put on at the beginning of the day. Maybe it's happened before when John was in charge, or when we were visiting at a grandparents' house, but I don't think so. It seems like we've had at least a dribble of pee up to this point.

And so, we're here, dribble-less for a day. I am so proud of Tom for bravely making his own way in the world when sometimes other kids are just scared and hang back. I am so proud of him for telling me when he has to pee! Sometimes my heart is just bursting.

And sometimes my heart is just burning, in the same moment. Could this kid go to bed? My weary bones can't take another moment today.

The Goose is Loose!

Maybe our middle child hasn't said as much as Tommy did (at her age) because we aren't paying enough attention. Today, Lucy busted out with two new words in appropriate context. First, she looked over at the counter while eating her breakfast, and stated her clear preference:

"Cookie."

Then, at the gym, she pointed to a baby and called her one.

How Ya Feelin?

Of late, Tom has been excited to create his own words. If there is an adjective to describe hunger, heck, there must be one to describe a yearning for television.

"But Mommmmmmm, I'm feeling TV-y!!"

And later, more better:

"It's not nap time, Mom. I'm still booky."

Moo

I love dairy...in a dangerous way. I am the kind of girl who accepts that, if we have a container of ice cream in our freezer, I will eat it bit by bit every three hours until it is gone. Usually it only takes a day.

One of my great finds in life has been this low-calorie yogurt. Yogurt actually does curb my desire for ice cream, especially because I mix the Dannon Light & Fit with frozen raspberries. A serious snack of this (may 1.5 cups?) has about 75 calories.

Dates!

I have taken it upon myself to carve out some date time for John and I over the next month. It seems like forever since we've seen a movie in the theater (I can't even remember one).

Last weekend, we visited John's family in the Wisconsin heartland and we got to kick off our date string with a fabulous dinner at a local co-op. We expected the restaurant to be casual, but it was quite mod and chic. I want to try to re-create the pasta I had---some fancy linguine-type pasta with a Havarti cream sauce, pistachios, basil, and chicken. Yum, yum, yum.

It would also be nice to get out of our comfort zone and do something exciting on one of our upcoming dates. My friend is a local improv actress; I'll have to see if she has any shows coming up.

Things I'm Thankful For: Modern Appliances

I am starting to get humongous (that wonderful stage when my belly begins to TAKE OVER my body). It's awesome. My favorite thing is walking around in public and having every living human being ask me if I'm due very shortly.

No, actually. If you can believe it, I'm going to get bigger and bigger and bigger for nine weeks...and it would be longer, except for Dr. He-Man!

Anyway, back to the positive nature of this post. Today I am really thankful for dishwashers, because my back is starting to hurt something fierce and I remember how painful it was to wash dishes by hand at this stage in the game.

In No Time at All

What a beautiful day yesterday! John and I decided to take the kids to our local nature center after dinner. I kid you not---just as I was thinking how Tommy had begun to mature and understand limits, he whisked out of our sight for a mere second.

The next thing we knew, Tommy was crying out in devastation. Apparently, when you jump into the nature center pond for a swim, you end up getting All Wet.

John thought Tommy slipped in there with his new Crocs, but I knew better. "What happened, Tommy?"

"I went swimming."

"Tommy, we can't go swimming here!"

"But I wanted to go swimming, Mom! And in no time, I was in there. All wet."

Well, if the potty training has taught us anything, it's to bring a change of clothes.

Unwelcome Guests

Disgusting. After all the potty training, you'd think I could use a break from disgusting things in my house. But we've moved directly from one issue to the next, although this one is not kid-related.

Ants.

They are everywhere!

One of the benefits of buying a brand-new home is that this place is relatively bug-free, yet somehow this spring, we are suddenly under invasion. One thing I've learned about ants is that they'll carry little crumbs into a corner so they can all feast together in a big pile. Disgusting.

How'd ya like a Lysol shower, little bugs?

I told John that, as the man of the house, it was his job to solve this problem.

Busted

(After smelling Daddy's breath last night...)
Tommy: Dad, have you been drinking wine again?

Junopoly

John and I finally saw the much-discussed Juno last night. Watching movies about my fellow preggos makes me more accepting of my state. Overall, I found Juno a light, refreshing take on the subject of adoption. It's unusual (and wonderful) to see a movie showcase how much adoption can do for the many people involved---the baby, the biological parents, and the adoptive parents. I definitely found a plot twist with the adoptive father to be weird; John and I were agreed that this twist could have been left out.
I went to bed after the movie thinking long and hard about what it would be like to go through pregnancy as a high school student. While the movie hints that Juno's friends are ignorant of her emotions (the scene in which her best friend finds it "boring" that Juno is watching the adoptive mother play with a little girl at the mall), the film does seem to undervalue how difficult a challenge Juno embraces. Not only would the pregnancy itself be unimaginably trying (physically, emotionally, and socially), any mother would struggle with the choice of whether she really could give her baby to another family.
With all this pensiveness and empathy in my system last night, my baby twisted and kicked for the better part of my sleep hours. I found a little body part (a hand? a foot?), and held on, thankful for my gift of motherhood and for the unconditional support John gives me. I couldn't do this alone.

Call Me Garden Sally

Tommy and I are excited for our summer project of growing tomatoes.Tommy isn't willing to eat the tomatoes, but he can't wait to use the watering pitcher to care for them. We're hoping the tomatoes grow as big and as delicious as Great Grandpa's.My mother claims her Dad would occasionally go on a summer diet, eating only tomatoes for several weeks. Yum. Homegrown tomatoes with a touch of salt and balsamic? I could live off that for a good, long while.

In My Life

Keri Russell and her cohorts don't get everything right in the 2007 film The Waitress. On the whole, though, I did find it rather amusing.
One thing I'd like to cultivate, though, is her character's ability to create pies in her mind. I'm adding the creation of at least one great pie to my list of goals in life.

On the Subject of Living Large

Phew. According to the technical quiz in today's local paper, we do not live in a McMansion. I guess our townhouse could be categorized better as the mini version. My favorite (or, more precisely, my least favorite) characteristic is the fake facade---brick or shakes on just the most-viewed portion of the home. Classic.

Actually, though, I didn't really define McMansion by these standards until I read the article. I used to think a McMansion was a newly-built home that dwarfed its neighbors.

There are definitely some characteristics of the McMansion that appeal to me: I'd love to have 4 upper level bedrooms in our next house. On the other hand, the sheer size of these homes makes them daunting to fill and daunting to clean. Do we really want to live somewhere that doesn't feel like a full home?

Now is the point where I begin kicking myself over not more seriously considering that older home John and I looked at about a month ago.

Word Association: Traveling Poop

I'm just going to let your mind wander with that one.

It Goes So Fast: This Weekend

As usual, it's Monday morning and it seems like Friday to Sunday is a blur that passed without enough time in between. Lucy was sick this weekend with quite a fever (103.5), so we spent most of the weekend hanging out at home and canceling plans. John went to the Wild game Friday night, and I caught up on my brother's latest novel. While I was reading, the local cops (4 squad cars full of them) were outside my bedroom window questioning two guys. I'm waiting to get the scoop from an inside source.
On Saturday, Tommy and I went to the gym. He played dinosaurs and I ran. Then we hit the grocery store, and he behaved like an angel as he gulped down a Slurpee and about 10 food samples. For dinner on Saturday night, I pulled out the George Foreman grill to make grilled chicken sandwiches on thick French rolls. I sliced up avocado, slathered on mayo, and also added my new favorite type of tomato---Campari. Yum.
On Sunday, John & I alternated church attendance to take a break from holy discipline. Then we walked around the mall, met the cousins for ice cream, and convinced my sister to keep an eye on Tommy while we took Lucy out for Mexican food. Lucy loved a bit a personal time out with Mom and Dad. She garnered attention from several nearby tables, and danced back and forth in her highchair to the music of a charming trio.
Then it was an all-new Desperate Housewives (finally!), and off to bed.

Secrets to Surviving Pregnancy: Good Seamlessness

There is a weird phenomenon in the world of maternity clothes: apparently, if you are carrying a baby, you are supposed to show as much cleavage as possible. This may work great for 1st time moms who are trying to show off their hot stuff, but when I'm constantly bending over to play with Lucy or help Tommy zip his jacket, I don't need to give playgroup a peep show. I've taken to wearing seamless camisoles under almost every shirt. This one from A Pea in the Pod is extra-long to offer serious coverage of a growing belly. It's little spendy, but for the first 2 trimesters, I used cheaper models from some teenie-bop store called Charlotte Russe. Wherever you get yours , elasticity is a key factor. Before I discovered this, I bought cotton tanks that shrunk with constant washing and didn't expand well...as I do.

Secrets to Surviving Pregnancy: Vicks Vapo Rub

One of many annoying pregnancy symptoms is having your sinuses clogged continuously...for 9 months. What the heck do sinuses have to do with gestating? Anyway, if it weren't for Vicks, I would've spent many hours laying awake in these past months.

Excerpt from the Car Ride

Tommy: Grader, grader, where are you??
Tommy [as the Grader]: I'm down here! On the floor!
Tommy: I can't reach you!
Tommy [as the Grader]: Really?!
Tommy: Yeah!

I'm Getting Smarter All The Time

I now know that when I take a bath, the rest of the family doesn't interpret this is as a private activity.

Best idea: Lock the door, slip on the iPod, and ignore the chaos in motion.

Evil, Evil, Evil

Sometimes my sister tells me stories of things her kids have done, and then, as if through ESP, my children absorb and repeat these ordeals. One example of this was last spring: Tommy was just under 2 years old when he made like his cousins and busted out of Sarah's house with a large bottle of hand soap. I found him in the street a few minutes later, playing with the bottle of soap as a car rolled up the street.

A similar cousin-style feisty action began occurring this week. Now that Tommy realizes he can control his urine stream, he stashes away just a tad of pee for each time he is forced to take a nap, say goodnight, or go in timeout. "But I peeeeeeeed!" He cries, pointing to the drop of urine on his pants. For about the first 6 times this happened, John and I played along, exasperatedly changing his outfit and letting him postpone bed and/or punishment.

No longer, kid. We're onto you.

Today, I informed Tommy that poop or pee, he'd be finishing his timeouts no matter what incident occurred in his pants. The look on his face was just priceless.

You can try, Tomster, but you'll never win.

A Sweetheart

Adjustable Waist for the Whole Fam

I just bought these new maternity pants from the Gap this morning. In prior pregnancies, I felt more comfortable with a full-stomach panel, but these days, it seems like my stomach outgrows the panel but I need pants that are tighter everywhere else. Additionally, as it gets hotter (if it gets hotter), the under-the-stomach feel might be more comfy. Great news! Adjustable waist isn't just for toddlers and grandparents anymore. I cinched in these pants for now, and I'm sure to be letting loose as the weeks pass by.

Three Frames

The kids and I packed it up, and headed to Bed, Bath, & Beyond this morning. I rarely visit this store, possibly because it is an accident waiting to happen. As we breezed through, though, I spotted three 8 x 10 frames in a dark finish for our bedroom. They are pre-matted, so now I just need to find three great images to frame. I've been checking out images from shutterstock, but I'm not surely what motif I even want. It would be nice to have some scenic shots from places we've visited, but we haven't really taken great quality pictures ourselves. Should I go with three shots from the same location? Or mix it up?

Fee Fie Fiddlie-I-Oh

So Sassy

It runs in the family. Check out my cousins' new online shop, Zeichen Press. If you've got a messy break-up in your near future, you just have to stash this card away.

My Ear of Corn is Growing

Since I've spent about 25 months pregnant in the last 3 years (hey, who's counting?), you'd think I'd have the gestational growth chart pretty much down pat by now. I still subscribe, though, to an online newsletter which gives me weekly updates as to the new developments of my baby in utero. According to BabyCenter, #3 this week is approximately the size of an ear of corn. Last night, as I lay awake, the corn was jabbing at my stomach in several areas at once. Really. Hard. I don't think the other kids were this powerful at such a young age, and this has to be a bad sign.

A Slow Spring Start

This weekend started off with a bang when Tommy woke up Friday with his classic Croup cough. John and I both had a congested chest cold earlier in the week, so I'd assumed one or both of our kids would catch it. Tommy has been to the E.R. about a half-dozen times for Croup. The cough is always worse at night; they treat his cough and restricted air flow with a nebulizer and oral steroids. Thankfully, for the 1st time, we were able to head off a hospital visit and have our regular clinic prescribe the steroids. Shortly after Lucy was born, Tommy had a very serious Croup case and was actually the in the hospital for a few days. He is still coughing this morning; I'm hoping it passes soon and that Lucy doesn't develop a case of her own.

Due to the illness, our hot date on Friday was canceled. Instead, we rented La Vie en Rose, a fabulous and sobering French picture detailing the life of a rising and falling starlet, Edith Piaf. While John and I generally feel that films these days could stand to have a few minutes edited out, this picture is really worth its entirety.

The weekend overall was casual, with Tommy trying out his new imitation Crocs and John hanging my massive wall mirror in the bedroom. Yesterday, the rain kept us indoors for the most part. This week, I'm on the hunt for picture frames, a rocking chair, and lamps. The dream bed will have to wait.

I hear Lucy calling, "Mama! Mama!" so my weekend is officially over.

Pen to Paper Source

While uptown last night, I visited a spot glaringly absent from the suburbs: Paper Source. This supply store is surprisingly affordable, and caters to both the seriously creative and the casual letter-writers, like me.

The Dating Game

Last night's book club (we've entertained a nomination to rename ourselves as My Book Club Should Really Be Called Wine Club) featured little discussion of our hilarious read, Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim by David Sedaris. That's a positive, though, because in our lack of book discussion, we had plenty of time to discuss the dating disasters of several single ladies. Truly, I don't think I have laughed so hard since we watched Death at a Funeral. I wish I could indulge you with some of these dates from hell, but I think I'll keep them private for the sake of the guilty. Perhaps someday they, too, will find their matches.

As I drove home out of the city last night, I was overcome by a feeling of true female camaraderie. It occurred to me that the women around me were each in their own unique stages of life and love---some single, some dating, some married and pregnant. And yet our laughter and empathy for one another through the trials and successes of these various stages was so genuine. As we stuffed our faces with crudites and hummus, I wondered, can men possibly bond on this level at poker night?

My Secret Sin of Pride

Generally, as a pregnant lady, I really suck. I am a whiner, I hate getting bigger, and I regret to say that I'm not a good sport at all. This time around, though, I have a secret weapon.*

After Lucy was born, I worked really hard to get back in shape. I didn't get entirely where I wanted to be, but my endurance was up enough that I fairly easily continued working out into this pregnancy. This is the 1st time I've really pushed myself in running (or moving, for that matter) while pregnant, and it feels great! I am so much more confident about my body, and I feel so powerful when I realize that people are looking at me at the gym thinking, Wow, that pregnant lady is sure making an effort!

I'm 24 weeks pregnant right now, and I'm not sure how long the running will continue. I've had to slow down a bit, but I still go about 2.5 miles every other day. That's something, at least. I figure when my belly starts to really get astronomical, I'll switch machines or maybe continue the treadmill slowly at a higher incline.

*For those who are unaware, I do have another, more important, secret weapon. He is my doctor, whom I've nicknamed He-Man. Dr. He-Man takes pity on me because my infants come out at about the size of an average 4 month old, and he induces me smartly at 37 weeks.

Bedroom Underway

I love World Market for its affordability and great cheeses. Yesterday, my Mom and I stopped by to check things out, and I bought this large mirror on a bit of a whim. The mirror had a few scrapes, so I haggled with the manager for a discount. He tried to give me just 20% off, but I ended up paying $110, which was 40% off the original price. Little did he know that any Martha Stewart fan would just fill those tiny scratches with shoe polish and **voilla**! The mirror isn't quite the full-length that I envisioned for our bedroom, but I took it because the wood frame was significant and beautiful, the price was right, and on second thought, a mirror out of reach of Tommy's Bob the Builder tool set is probably a good thing.

Potty Chronicle: Day 15

The potty training seems to be mostly complete. Most days, we have just one accident. Usually, it's the end of the day, when Tommy's patience is wearing thin. He's getting really good at telling me when he has to go poop, but I still have to make him go pee about every 1.5 hrs. He never says he has to go pee.

In related news, we seem to be mixing our signals around here and confusing many words for potty-related things. This morning, Tommy was invited to a birthday party. "But I don't WANT to go on the potty!!!" He insisted. No, Tommy. Par-ty. Bennett's party. Also, he just told me he wanted a cookie, and I could have sworn he said he had to go poop.

This is Why I Do It

I never knew my house would be filled with:
-ridiculous quantities of Spiderman underwear,
-denim miniskirts that measure less than 5 inches in length,
-books, books, books everywhere,
-children sighing themselves off to sleep,
-so much love my heart is ready to burst.

Oh, Lucy Goose

My middle child. While categorizing my blog entries this week, I realized with dismay that I've neglected to mention Lucy as much as I should. I really should. Right now, my Goose Girl is climbing into a large, child-sized rocking chair. She can't quite get up there on her own today (because her sweat pants cause her to slip down). She cries out for my help, but in Mama-like stubborn fashion, Lucy allows me to lift her only an extra inch to get into the chair. She won't allow me to seat her there entirely.

Then she sings to her herself, "Raaaaah, raaaah" and looks over at me for an approving response.

And then it's off to the next adventure.

Pottery Barn Dream

In my dream bedroom, I would replace my furniture and actually know what cool things to hang on the walls. Here is the bed we covet: I would get these night tables, reminiscent of a bed & breakfast we stayed at for our anniversary once in Door County, WI. I'd like one of those massive, vertical wall mirrors, a comfortable reading chair, and cute lamps. Someday?

A Novel Affair

The Aurelianos ladies (one of my books clubs) came over on Saturday night to discuss Ann Petry's The Street. Afterward, John inquired as to how much of the evening was spent discussing the book. My response? A goodly amount---maybe 30 minutes.
As usual, the evening focused on food and wine. That's my kind of club. I served Wild Rice soup with an herbed spring mix salad. We started with an appetizer that I lifted directly from Friday night's date: crostini with goat cheese, toasted walnuts, and golden raisins. So simple! Rave reviews ensued.

A Flick of His Switch

Old Benjamin Bunny must have had a son like ours. Despite Supernanny JoJo's insistence, I swear that Tommy does not always respond to discipline in the form of a Time Out. Lately, Tommy has been really fighting naps and bedtime. He quickly realized that his newfound ability to use the potty granted him special permission to get out of bed again...and again...and again.

Last week was particularly exhausting as Tommy exercised this freedom, since John was out of town. Upon return, though, John got right to the heart of the matter---a slight spanking seemed to be all Tommy needed to know staying in bed was the best option.

This is a difficult issue for us. We'd love for Tommy to truly feel remorse and stay in the corner, but he's just not that kid. I remember a few years ago, my nephew, Jack, would actually put himself in Time Out. He'd just stand there, facing the wall, practically crying because he was so sad to have disobeyed his parents. My children, on the other hand, seem to be Sass Boxes who laugh in the face of rules!

How many other parents out there find that spanking is one of the few discipline tactics that get through to their child?

Let me be clear: John and I are both agreed that spanking is an appropriate discipline form only in certain circumstances. We wait until we are calm, and we explain to Tommy in a collected manner why his actions were wrong. Spanking out of rage sends a different message than we want to convey. I want Tommy to know that I don't like to spank him; instead, it makes me sad to do so!

In our society, spanking is such a taboo. And yet I do wonder, aren't there others out there---like us---who feel it's necessary and effective for certain kids?

Unbelievably Great Beef Roast

Every time I use my Crock Pot, I swear I am going to convert all my cooking to this ingenious method. Tonight, I simply combined:

1 packet of Lipton dry onion soup mix
1 can cream of mushroom soup
1 can condensed beef broth

and then added
-2.5 lbs. defrosted beef roast,rubbed with kosher salt and cracked pepper
-4 baby red potatoes
-handful of carrots
-handful of sliced mushrooms

I sliced a bit of onion to cover the roast, and let this cook on high in my Magic Machine for about 6 hours. Fabulous. The result was a tender, juicy roast with a ton of rich gravy. To be honest, I've never been much of a roast person, but with the Crock Pot, it can be so tender as to make me swoon.

Worse

Worse than the embarrassment of two screaming toddlers at Target:
The embarrassment of two screaming toddlers at Target and a visibly pregnant belly whereby strangers stare at you thinking, She's in over her head.

Poop Comes From Your Butt

This has been a week of huge revelations for Tommy. I'm drinking my lemonade, he mutters down the hall. And then the lemonade will turn into pee! Another big shocker for Tom has been the knowledge that pee comes from the penis, while poop comes from the butt.

Yesterday, he experienced this in a new way when He. Went. Poop. On. The. Potty.

Personally, I was so excited with this development that I danced and screamed with joy. Tommy, on the other hand, reacted with fright. He wanted a hug. He didn't really understand what was going on. He said goodbye to the poop, and we flushed it away.

I didn't get my hopes up, thinking two days of this miracle in a row would be too much for any sane (much less insane) mother to expect. But then, just now----I need to poop!! And we ran to the potty together.

From the Locker Room: Modesty or Insecurity?

After Tommy was born and my need for some bodily sanity resurfaced, I began working out at a local YMCA. I loved the atmosphere there; I knew all the people around me, and they seemed to be pursuing the goal of a genuine, healthy lifestyle. The people said hello to each other. They work sweatshorts and ripped t-shirt, like me.

When we moved out to the boondocks of this quality small town, no local YMCA was within a drivable distance. I was lured, instead, to a more glamorous gym with a great outer pool and a glitzy spa facility. I can't complain too much: the childcare department is fantastic, and I can even get my hair cut when the kids are having fun in there. On the flip side, though, the atmosphere has definitely changed. The women around me are practically supermodels, striving to sculpt their bodies while applying extra lipstick. They wear fancy ensembles and carry around yoga gear that just emerged in this spring's Lucy collection. No one says hello to you unless they are trying to pick you up. It's less of a community; instead, it feels like a competition.

One of the most glaring differences between these facilities is the locker room etiquette women display. At my new gym, the women prance about in their fancy gear and loudly discuss their upcoming vacations. At the YMCA, though, women inquired about each others' lives and seemed entirely comfortable shedding their clothing and walking around in the nude. I'm not suggesting that these practices are entirely dependent on one another; I'm merely noting this is the way it is. Why are the seeming-rich so inclined to wear clothing when their bodies are far more "perfect"? Everything about their demeanor should suggest they are proud of themselves and their flashy lives.

Grandma Julie's Pie

This recipe from John's maternal grandmother is too good not to share. John's Mom taught me to make this pie with great patience. Yesterday was the first time I think came anywhere near its potential...pie-making takes precision! I baked this pie to celebrate John's homecoming from NYC. I had originally planned to make another favorite of his (pecan pie), but Tommy informed me that he didn't want "nut pie" and instead preferred apple. Tommy's Great-Grandma would surely be proud to know he enjoyed two slices yesterday.


Julie's Recipe for Pie Crust (top and bottom crust)
1 C shortening
2.5 C flour
1 Tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
2/3 C milk (added little by little)

Mix flour, sugar, baking powder and salt. Use a pastry cutter or fork to cut the shortening into the dry mixture til it resembles a coarse meal. Then, gradually add the milk, stirring gently after each little addition. The pie dough should be sticky, but not overly sticky or crumbly. You may not use all the milk. Form two balls from the dough for a top and bottom pie crust. (Note: For pie novices such as myself, I recommend forming one larger ball and trying this bottom-only recipe. You can use the extra, smaller ball of dough for a different pastry treat.) Roll out the pie crust and transfer carefully to a 9" glass pie pan.

Julie's Dutch Apple Crumble Pie
5-7 tart apples, peeled and sliced thinly
1 9" unbaked pastry shell
1/2 C sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 C sugar
3/4 C flour
1/3 C butter, softened

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Arrange pie slices in your pastry shell. Mix together 1/2 C sugar and cinnamon. Sprinkle this mixture on top of the apples. Then combine the other 1/2 C sugar with the flour. Cut in the butter with pastry cutter or fork until the mixture is crumbly. Sprinkle this mixture over the pie. Protect your pie crust: using thin slices of aluminum foil, wrap the outer formed (decorative) pie crust so it does not burn in the oven. Bake the pie in a hot oven about 40 minutes or until apples become tender. Note: Watch the pie carefully. When the topping started to brown, I covered the entire pie top in another sheet of aluminum foil to prevent burning. The secret to great pie is a flaky crust that is not overcooked!!

Come Home Soon!

Breakdown

I am having a fight with Tommy. Right now. You are in the midst of it. Like most kids, Tommy hits a breaking point in the afternoon when he desperately needs a nap, but in his desperation, defiantly struggles against one. That is what he is doing right now.

This tantrum, coupled with the potty training and his recent return to very violent behavior (hitting me, throwing large toys at the wall) is driving me to insanity. I am becoming a mother I hate today. A ferocious, yelling monster.

Sigh.

How am I going to make it through 3 more months of pregnancy? Somebody get me some Valium.

Proof

I did it! I did it! I kept something alive other than my children. I bought this then-flowering plant at Bachman's about two months ago to put myself in the mood for spring. The flowers died, and I was sure I'd destined another plant to the same fate. I kept watering it, though, and just today, I noticed my plant is sprouting new leaves! Maybe my green thumb has finally kicked in. Does anyone know of houseplants that are easy to grow?

The (Late) Great Lamb Cake

My mom passed the lamb cake mold onto me. On Easters past, Grandma worked with precision on the cake, much as she had on many a Christmas gingerbread house. The cake mold weighs about 10 pounds, a cast-iron beast.

Inside the mold were Grandma's handwritten instructions. Slather the mold in Crisco, then Pam, then flour to ensure that the lamb cake comes out in one piece. I did get that far, but the lamb turned out to be a bit anorexic when my carrot cake recipe failed to rise appropriately.

While quite frightening in appearance, the lamb cake tasted great. Here's the fabulous carrot cake recipe.