I just returned from Lucy's playgroup, where several of the moms discussed recent parent-teacher conferences for their pre-schoolers. Don't teachers know that moms (especially first-time ones) get worked up about these information sessions? Don't they know we all want to hear a little bit of good about our children with the bad?
The theme of several of these conferences seemed to be turning introverted kids into extroverts. The moms involved felt badly, as if they hadn't done a good enough job socializing their child in pre-school preparation. What? Pre-school preparation? Taught socialization? Aren't some of these things supposed to be natural?
For moms out there with shy children, don't fret. You child is not alone, and is not even a minority in being shy. Almost ALL the kids in Tommy's pre-school class are introverted. They are little sweethearts who have to warm up to someone before answering questions or giving a hug. And this is not a bad thing.
I have often said my kids could use a good shot o' shy. They would walk away with any stranger who had candy or promised them a quarter to ride the mall fire engine.
Sigh. If only the teachers knew how much of our time is spent worrying. Perhaps they'd change their tactics...
21 November 2008
20 November 2008
Talking Phenom
Don't tell everyone I'm bragging, but Lucy really is a talking phenom. Here are some of the things she's said to me in the last 24 hours. Remember---she's only 21 months.
"I want Mommy's cereal! I'm hungry!!"
"Jimmy's crying, Mom. Why??"
"I want a drink!! All gone. Want more!!"
"Where Tommy go? Tommy's at school."
Seriously, people. Just sign her up for Genius Club.
"I want Mommy's cereal! I'm hungry!!"
"Jimmy's crying, Mom. Why??"
"I want a drink!! All gone. Want more!!"
"Where Tommy go? Tommy's at school."
Seriously, people. Just sign her up for Genius Club.
Growing Up
The other night, Tommy and I went on our usual adventure to the library. Except it wasn't usual, because the winter had darkened the skies. And we were alone. We are rarely alone in the car, Tommy and I. Usually there's a Jimmy screaming and a snooking Lucy along.
Tommy was nervous about the darkness. "It's nighttime, Mom! The library will be locked." He was surprised when I grabbed his hand and we raced past the dried-up fountain into the warm light of an open library.
We read together, late at night. Tommy snuggled into my lap and chose a book about tigers and another about an umbrella. This second book was written unusually, in broken English, from the perspective of a Japanese immigrant. She wrote about her daughter's first umbrella, something she longed to use. Something she waited for and finally attained.
And then, in the end, the broken English revealed something that clutched at my heart: in using her umbrella the first time, this little girl had her first experience of walking up and down the streets without holding either her mom and dad's hand.
And then I realized that Tommy has already had that experience this fall, without me even consciously planning it.
Where does it go? How do kids make that leap from toddler to kid? He did it when I wasn't looking. He did it by taking screwdrivers to the underside of telephone cradles, to figure out how they worked. He did it by sneaking baking chocolates upstairs, not knowing his stealthy move wouldn't be tasty. He did it by running off to school each morning, unafraid, into Mrs. McDonald's room to learn about God and frogs and sharing.
He's a real boy now.
Tommy was nervous about the darkness. "It's nighttime, Mom! The library will be locked." He was surprised when I grabbed his hand and we raced past the dried-up fountain into the warm light of an open library.
We read together, late at night. Tommy snuggled into my lap and chose a book about tigers and another about an umbrella. This second book was written unusually, in broken English, from the perspective of a Japanese immigrant. She wrote about her daughter's first umbrella, something she longed to use. Something she waited for and finally attained.
And then, in the end, the broken English revealed something that clutched at my heart: in using her umbrella the first time, this little girl had her first experience of walking up and down the streets without holding either her mom and dad's hand.
And then I realized that Tommy has already had that experience this fall, without me even consciously planning it.
Where does it go? How do kids make that leap from toddler to kid? He did it when I wasn't looking. He did it by taking screwdrivers to the underside of telephone cradles, to figure out how they worked. He did it by sneaking baking chocolates upstairs, not knowing his stealthy move wouldn't be tasty. He did it by running off to school each morning, unafraid, into Mrs. McDonald's room to learn about God and frogs and sharing.
He's a real boy now.
08 November 2008
Cuatro
Dear Jimmy,
My sweetheart is four months old! I know you are growing because your strong legs have lengthened, and your skinny fingers seem almost as long as Lucy's. You are kicking and moving your arms all the time. You haven't rolled over since your first few rolls, but I bet you will be back to that in no time.
This month has been exciting for all of us, as you've become more animated and interested in the world around you. You laugh for Daddy, and you squeal when Lucy or Tommy run to your side. They love to sit by you when you're exercising underneath your new Scary Bear equipment. Of course, Mama is still your No. 1. I have that captivating affect on babies when I'm their sole nourishment. :)
While you've been practicing moving and making new sounds, the rest of the country has been preoccupied with the recent presidential election. Although Dad and I didn't vote for him, President-elect Barack Obama is surely making history in our nation as the first African American on his way to the oval office. We disagree with some of his policies, but we can not deny that this feat is an amazing step towards acknowledging the dignity shared by all human life. Hopefully that theme can continue on in many ways through his term.
The world has changed in many ways since your birth, Jimmy. People are worried right now for the future. The economy is in a slump unseen since the Great Depression. We don't really know how bad things could get, or when they will improve.
One thing that hasn't changed, though, is that the gift of life---in the form of a baby---can life spirits and bring joy. Wherever I take you, people sigh and smile to see your tiny form. Whenever you gurgle, you melt away a bit of discontent and offer us older souls a small, new beginning. I suppose this is reflected, too, in your Baptism.
It is late, my Jimmy. You are sleeping soundly upstairs, sucking your fingers and perfectly content in your bassinet. Daddy and Tom and Lucy sleep, too, and that I shall do in a moment.
But I love you, Jimmy. I want you to know that even when I'm exhausted and tired, my heart is beating for you. My little Jimster. It seems to go faster all the time.
Yours,
Mama
05 November 2008
A Life-Changing Morning
From my Facebook status:
Anne just broke the news to Tommy. I tried to tell him Obama was a good man, but he claimed, "I don't WANT that man!! I want John McCain!!"
Anne just broke the news to Tommy. I tried to tell him Obama was a good man, but he claimed, "I don't WANT that man!! I want John McCain!!"
04 November 2008
An Attempt
Sometimes I long for adult conversation during the day.
Me: So, Tom, who do you think will be our next president?
Tom: [sighs] I don't want to talk about it!!!
Me: [waiting to hear profound insight] Why not?
Tom: I'm eating these goldfish!!!
Me: So, Tom, who do you think will be our next president?
Tom: [sighs] I don't want to talk about it!!!
Me: [waiting to hear profound insight] Why not?
Tom: I'm eating these goldfish!!!
29 October 2008
Behavior Corrections Facility
I once heard that in order for a kid to get used to a particular new food, you have to put it in front of him a dozen times. That may not seem like a lot, but a dozen times really IS a lot in the scheme of meal rotation.
I have come to see the truth in this, and I believe the theory should also be extended---perhaps to the infinite degree---to include toddler behavior correction. Before I became a mom, no one ever told me that I would spend the whole day telling shut-ears not to jump on the couch.
But it makes a difference. I really believe it does. I now understand that my kids greet people in public because they have learned this behavior. Just this morning, Tommy sat absorbed in The Incredibles, quite obtuse to the fact that Lucy had woken up and joined us for the day. It took me about 3 reminders for Tommy to say, "Good morning" to her. And finally, when he did, Lucy's face lit up and she bubbled along like the Goose tends to do.
Maybe this sort of obsessive correction is what we really need in the other behavioral facilities.
I have come to see the truth in this, and I believe the theory should also be extended---perhaps to the infinite degree---to include toddler behavior correction. Before I became a mom, no one ever told me that I would spend the whole day telling shut-ears not to jump on the couch.
But it makes a difference. I really believe it does. I now understand that my kids greet people in public because they have learned this behavior. Just this morning, Tommy sat absorbed in The Incredibles, quite obtuse to the fact that Lucy had woken up and joined us for the day. It took me about 3 reminders for Tommy to say, "Good morning" to her. And finally, when he did, Lucy's face lit up and she bubbled along like the Goose tends to do.
Maybe this sort of obsessive correction is what we really need in the other behavioral facilities.
Whoooooosh
Such is the sound of Tommy running out of the bathroom. He's always in a hurry to get the job done. Lately, he's developed an amusing fear of listening to the toilet flush. In our small downstairs bathroom, he holds onto the door handle while flushing the toilet so that he can flush and shut the door as quickly as possible.
07 October 2008
Forward and Back: 3 Months
Dear Jimmy,
My littlest bug. You are 3 months old tomorrow, and already, your namesake, my Grandpa, is gone.
Grandpa lived his 86 years to their fullest potential, and so, my Jimmy, you have a large legacy to maintain. Will you raise a generation of children? Will you work in the yard, toiling and snowblowing into your final year? Will you concoct a precise system for growing perfect tomatoes using PVC pipe, old t-shirts, and (pointedly vacant) recycling bins?
We were lucky to visit with Grandpa in the final month of his life. I wanted you to know him, Jimmy: to understand the thrill of riding the handmade, backyard swing at lightening speed, and to marvel that it had its own telephone. To run into the dining room and pause to select your favorite of treats from the candy shoppe. To taste the tangy pickles. To laugh at the bird tweeting beautifully from above Grandpa's comfy chair.
Grandpa was a model for us all, really. Devoted as a husband, Grandpa understood what a full-time job his wife had in raising her many children. He kept the fun in their marriage by bowling with her on a regular basis, and by sweeping her away to Nevis for vacation in their later, child-rearing years. I imagine their romance was alive til the end... I will never forget the snap of Grandma's purse opening or closing as she reached in to retrieve her standby shade of precise red lipstick.
A life pulses and breathes, Jimmy. And at its end, a life catches us off-guard, filling our hearts with memory and beauty and wonder.
I hope I can be a mother as he was a father. He kept his arms and home open to his children, showing us all how parenting only grows with children, never ceasing. Nothing could surprise Grandpa. By his final years, he had seen every joy and tragedy of life. He took a look at you, Jimmy, and said, "He looks like he'll make it." Then he waited for the next great joy of life to come, and it did. The birth of Peter, the conception of another great-grandchild.
Though I hated pregnancy, Grandpa never understood why I wanted it to end. After all, kids are much less trouble on the inside, he told me. :)
I saw the wisdom in Grandpa's life. He built his home as he needed it, he indulged when it truly fancied him (which wasn't that often). He poured cream on his cereal and answered requests without pretenses. He didn't seem to worry about what others thought. And yet, he did invest in God. He faithfully cared for his family, and cared for his family to realize God is the source of all our life.
It seems fitting that in the last month of Grandpa's life, Jimmy, you were baptized at a church where he attended high school.
I know this month's letter is a lot about Grandpa and a little about you, Jimmy. But now that you're smiling and looking around and starting to understand this world,
I am sure you will see the beauty in that.
Love,
Mama
My littlest bug. You are 3 months old tomorrow, and already, your namesake, my Grandpa, is gone.
Grandpa lived his 86 years to their fullest potential, and so, my Jimmy, you have a large legacy to maintain. Will you raise a generation of children? Will you work in the yard, toiling and snowblowing into your final year? Will you concoct a precise system for growing perfect tomatoes using PVC pipe, old t-shirts, and (pointedly vacant) recycling bins?
We were lucky to visit with Grandpa in the final month of his life. I wanted you to know him, Jimmy: to understand the thrill of riding the handmade, backyard swing at lightening speed, and to marvel that it had its own telephone. To run into the dining room and pause to select your favorite of treats from the candy shoppe. To taste the tangy pickles. To laugh at the bird tweeting beautifully from above Grandpa's comfy chair.
Grandpa was a model for us all, really. Devoted as a husband, Grandpa understood what a full-time job his wife had in raising her many children. He kept the fun in their marriage by bowling with her on a regular basis, and by sweeping her away to Nevis for vacation in their later, child-rearing years. I imagine their romance was alive til the end... I will never forget the snap of Grandma's purse opening or closing as she reached in to retrieve her standby shade of precise red lipstick.
A life pulses and breathes, Jimmy. And at its end, a life catches us off-guard, filling our hearts with memory and beauty and wonder.
I hope I can be a mother as he was a father. He kept his arms and home open to his children, showing us all how parenting only grows with children, never ceasing. Nothing could surprise Grandpa. By his final years, he had seen every joy and tragedy of life. He took a look at you, Jimmy, and said, "He looks like he'll make it." Then he waited for the next great joy of life to come, and it did. The birth of Peter, the conception of another great-grandchild.
Though I hated pregnancy, Grandpa never understood why I wanted it to end. After all, kids are much less trouble on the inside, he told me. :)
I saw the wisdom in Grandpa's life. He built his home as he needed it, he indulged when it truly fancied him (which wasn't that often). He poured cream on his cereal and answered requests without pretenses. He didn't seem to worry about what others thought. And yet, he did invest in God. He faithfully cared for his family, and cared for his family to realize God is the source of all our life.
It seems fitting that in the last month of Grandpa's life, Jimmy, you were baptized at a church where he attended high school.
I know this month's letter is a lot about Grandpa and a little about you, Jimmy. But now that you're smiling and looking around and starting to understand this world,
I am sure you will see the beauty in that.
Love,
Mama
16 September 2008
Two Scenes
Scene I:
It is before dawn, and the room is still. A thick drowsiness hangs in the air. There is the faint smell of slumber and a calming blue on the walls. You trip as you stumble through the room. There are a dozen pillows tucked into every corner. There are ten tiny blankets strewn on the floor.
Scene II:
It is after lunch, and the hallway is empty. The curtains have been drawn in each room upstairs, and the quiet buzz of fans calls you into slumber. Every toy is in its place, and a book of nursery rhymes awaits on the couch. It is peaceful. It smells clean and fresh and relieving, nourishing.
These are the scenes that repeat day in and day out. I hope I never forget them. The first seems so fleeting; it is just this period of early morning after feeding a newborn, when the bedroom is "undone" and no one has slept much through the night. The second is more regular, a picture of how I prepare the upstairs for naptime.
It is before dawn, and the room is still. A thick drowsiness hangs in the air. There is the faint smell of slumber and a calming blue on the walls. You trip as you stumble through the room. There are a dozen pillows tucked into every corner. There are ten tiny blankets strewn on the floor.
Scene II:
It is after lunch, and the hallway is empty. The curtains have been drawn in each room upstairs, and the quiet buzz of fans calls you into slumber. Every toy is in its place, and a book of nursery rhymes awaits on the couch. It is peaceful. It smells clean and fresh and relieving, nourishing.
These are the scenes that repeat day in and day out. I hope I never forget them. The first seems so fleeting; it is just this period of early morning after feeding a newborn, when the bedroom is "undone" and no one has slept much through the night. The second is more regular, a picture of how I prepare the upstairs for naptime.
11 September 2008
Insufficient Extremities
Some tasks are hard to do 1-handed. I've learned to type while nursing a baby, and to occasionally stir a pot. But this morning, Jimmy was screaming because Lucy woke up and insisted on trying out her new potty skills again...potty-training should not be combined with feeding, 1-handed or otherwise. Then, imagine you're nursing while your 2 toddlers are scarfing down syrup-drenched waffles. One dumps her milk out, and then they both try to bolt from the table with stickiness oozing everywhere.
Sigh.
I feel for poor Jimmy. He is forced to take breaks from eating often...in the sticky situations I encounter such as the one outlined above, or in violent situations such as when one sibling is biting or attacking another, or in potty fiascos, or...well, any number of daily, momentary crises.
Hopefully, this will not greatly affect his outlook on life.
Sigh.
I feel for poor Jimmy. He is forced to take breaks from eating often...in the sticky situations I encounter such as the one outlined above, or in violent situations such as when one sibling is biting or attacking another, or in potty fiascos, or...well, any number of daily, momentary crises.
Hopefully, this will not greatly affect his outlook on life.
08 September 2008
Life in Mc D-O-N-A-L-D-S World
Today marked a new and exciting phase in our eldest's life. Tommy started pre-school! I will post picture later of Tommy proudly sporting his Twins backpack, heading into school looking excited and ready to take on the world. I thought maybe his nerves would get the better of him, but this weekend, he told me, "Mom, Mrs. McDonald will be excited to see me tomorrow!"
This enthusiasm was a change from last week, when before meeting his teacher, he wondered whether she would actually be Ronald McDonald...?
My heart nearly melted to send Tommy away on his new adventure. I don't know who was most excited in the family. John and I were ridiculously proud to note that Tom was the only kid in his class to be able to identify his name on the take-home paper bin and the star name board. Tom was ridiculously proud to unzip his backpack and show us his first art project, a heart proclaiming God's love. Lucy was tickled to have our complete attention for several hours and Jimmy...well, Jimmy actually slept through most of the transition.
As John told me a few weeks ago, once school begins, there's no turning back. I can already hear Tommy telling us, "Oh, this is how Mrs. McDONald says to wash your hands..." or "Miss Amy says we have to wear shoes at the park." No longer are we the only primary influence in Tommy's life. In fact, his teachers' new authority will probably usurp the limited excitement we provide. We'll be replaced.
All this knowledge has whirled through my brain as we've prepared this last week for D-Day. We made the drop-off early, and circled the preschool at 11:15 AM so as not to be too early for the 11:30 pick-up. I needn't have worried too much about being replaced.
It turned out Tommy loved preschool, and also loved sharing his new stage of development with us. He ran into my arms, delighted to chatter with me about the Magic Bean game and the turn-around, turn-around. In his sparkling eyes, I can see that he relives these memories, although he doesn't quite convey the details to me.
Preschool. It's supposed to be a bridge, isn't it? Somehow it seems like he's already crossed over from being our baby.
This enthusiasm was a change from last week, when before meeting his teacher, he wondered whether she would actually be Ronald McDonald...?
My heart nearly melted to send Tommy away on his new adventure. I don't know who was most excited in the family. John and I were ridiculously proud to note that Tom was the only kid in his class to be able to identify his name on the take-home paper bin and the star name board. Tom was ridiculously proud to unzip his backpack and show us his first art project, a heart proclaiming God's love. Lucy was tickled to have our complete attention for several hours and Jimmy...well, Jimmy actually slept through most of the transition.
As John told me a few weeks ago, once school begins, there's no turning back. I can already hear Tommy telling us, "Oh, this is how Mrs. McDONald says to wash your hands..." or "Miss Amy says we have to wear shoes at the park." No longer are we the only primary influence in Tommy's life. In fact, his teachers' new authority will probably usurp the limited excitement we provide. We'll be replaced.
All this knowledge has whirled through my brain as we've prepared this last week for D-Day. We made the drop-off early, and circled the preschool at 11:15 AM so as not to be too early for the 11:30 pick-up. I needn't have worried too much about being replaced.
It turned out Tommy loved preschool, and also loved sharing his new stage of development with us. He ran into my arms, delighted to chatter with me about the Magic Bean game and the turn-around, turn-around. In his sparkling eyes, I can see that he relives these memories, although he doesn't quite convey the details to me.
Preschool. It's supposed to be a bridge, isn't it? Somehow it seems like he's already crossed over from being our baby.
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
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
05 September 2008
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.
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.
04 September 2008
30 August 2008
"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:
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.
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.
25 August 2008
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.
22 August 2008
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.
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.
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