My little bedheaded girl
Sleepy head wakes up from a nap.
This is my attempt at testing to see if I can upload photos from my phone onto the blog through flickr. Hmmm…not going too well so far.
Let the nanny stealing begin!
We’ve sold our house (well, we have a buyer under contract), we have a target moving date and we’ve decided which city we’re moving to. Plus, I survived end-of-the-semester finals and getting the house ready to go on the market. That pretty much sums up the last 6 weeks of my life.
Now that the world knows we’re uprooting ourselves and trekking across the country, there’s a grab-her-while-you-can contest over our wonderful child care provider. Now, I knew we got lucky finding a good person to look after the kiddos while we worked. I’m not sure how well I would have fared over the last 2 years without her. I wish I could clone her and take her with us.
In the months leading up to our final decision to move, Kevin has expressed his concern about us finding our “nanny*” another family. Clearly this isn’t a problem.
I’ve had several conversations with friends and others who express their genuine sorrow at seeing us leave, then get a gleam in their eye when they realize it means that our nanny is now free to…say…come and work for them!
As it turns out, not only is she excellent and professional at what she does, but she’s also quite resourceful and has already lined something else up, leaving me unable to help out my friends by passing her along to them. It’s also occurred to me (although apparently not to everyone else) that she’s not a commodity to be bought and sold, and certainly not mine to decide where she goes next.
I do know that we are so going to miss her. Did I mention she’s helped me stay sane over the last 2 years? We are, however, very fortunate as my Mum’s moving with us (and moving in with us) so we’re trading in one nanny for another. 
Or maybe even trading up.
(* We call her [unnamed for the sake of her privacy] our babysitter, because Nanny is what we call my Mum and child care provider is just too PC to make it out of my mouth repeatedly.)
The real experience of being a mother
There’s a thought that’s been going through my head lately. Since it has to do with kids, Mother’s Day is as good a time as any to spit it out.
Basically, the thought is this: If all the people who had told me how hard it would be having kids could have somehow caused me to experience it and truly feel it for myself before I had them, there’s a really good chance I wouldn’t have had them.
I heard all the warnings. I heard how my life would forever be changed, that I could never go back to life pre-child. That my freedom was gone — physical freedom to do what I wanted when I wanted, financial freedom to spend my own money on myself, even emotional freedom from the constant worry about something or the other that comes with children.
I did listen. I believed them. But I decided I could handle it. I decided it was something I wanted to do anyway (and it was also too late as people only start telling you this stuff when you’re already pregnant).
They were completely right. Motherhood (and probably fatherhood, too) is unrelenting, insanely hard work. The overwhelmingly intense experience of delivering a baby into the world is just the beginning of some bone crushingly difficult experiences.
However, I suspected then, when I had that well-contained life growing inside me, that the folks giving me dire warnings were leaving something out. Parenting is an intense experience, for sure. But part of that intensity is the amount of love, joy and satisfaction that comes from creating a family. Other than when I was a baby and small child myself, I don’t recall ever feeling so loved as I do by my own little ones. Behind every scream of “I need Mummy!” is a declaration of love and trust.
So I’m glad I didn’t really understand what it would be like (and no 10-lb bag of flour would have shown me). I’m glad I couldn’t feel the true sacrifices of motherhood — at least not before I could also feel the true rewards.
I know I’m not alone in struggling to reconcile who I was before I became a Mum with who I find myself being now. Having little kids is tough. It’s very demanding and doesn’t leave you the luxury of much time to ponder your former dreams, ambitions and visions of yourself. But I know I’ll find my balance. And I wouldn’t trade my two little imps — perhaps my greatest creations — for anything. Not even the luxury of going to the bathroom by myself.
Lunch from the garden (well, sort of)
- Pan-seared salmon salad with organic beets and asparagus from the garden
I ate my first asparagus of the season today. There it is on my plate (or in my bowl, rather). Joining it was a sliced beet that Duncan dug up earlier this week while playing in my garden beds. Who knew that it was hiding there all winter?
Before you get too impressed by my incredible lunch, I feel I should explain. It’s true, other than the salmon it was all organic — from the mixed baby field greens to the mostly-ripe roma tomato. And the beets and asparagus, of course. But, I know, I know, farm-raised salmon! What am I thinking? Plus it was leftover from what the kids and Kevin didn’t eat at dinner last night.
People close to me know that I don’t ordinarily care for salad. However, I have recently had 3 salad revelations:
1. Baby salad greens make it so much easier. Sure, they seem expensive in the store at $5.99/lb for the organic variety. But the bag I buy that lasts me multiple salads a week weighs only about a 1/2 lb. And it means I actually take salad greens out of the bag and put them into a bowl and eat them, rather than letting a head of lettuce rot in the fridge because somehow, pulling it apart into little pieces fit to eat seems “too difficult.” I realize I should probably be washing it, but, hey, it’s organic e-coli, right?
2. Warm weather = shorts (as in pants). Mine don’t fit. This is a problem. I’m not buying more pants. And I can’t ride my bike in a dress. Therefore: salad for lunch.
3. It’s a great gluten-free meal. And when I add fish (or chicken or lobster or egg or king crab legs) it has protein, too. (Just kidding on the yummy sea food. I can only wish!)
Plus, it’s an easy way to throw in whatever happens to be ready to eat from the garden. I’m so glad I got my first stalk of asparagus. I’d been prowling around the bed for days.
Eating what’s good for you: pasture-raised chicken
I’m working on the website for Honeyhill Farm, a small organic farm in the Fingerlakes region of upstate New York. Fred (the farmer) and I have been working on adding new content to the website, with more information about the farm’s products (garlic, chicken, beef, heirloom tomatoes and other vegetables) as well as new recipes and photos of the farm.
This morning I’m working on the chickens page. They raise organic, pastured chickens. While doing some research on this farming method, I came across this page on the Weathertop Farm website which explains what happens to conventionally grown chickens. I knew some of this — the de-beaking, the cramped quarters, the use of hormones and antibiotics, etc. I prefer not to think about the chicken I eat living in chicken poop, but Berry still poops in diapers and we wipe her off and still think her little bottom is cute, so I can deal with it.
However, then I got to this description:
According to Joel Salatin, the original pastured poultry guru who spent time as an investigative journalist, about 9 percent of the weight on most chickens bought in the grocery store is fecal material or “soup” soaked up from the chill tank where chickens are stored after processing. To deal with this health hazard, the carcasses are given up to 40 chlorine baths as well as treatments such as irradiation.
(Excuse me while I hurl.) Two things: chickens soaking in fecal material soup and chlorine baths. Really? I’m not sure which disgusts me more — the poop soup or the chlorine to get rid of it. We’re a chlorine-free household here. No extra dioxins for us, thanks. I even stopped buying baby carrots after I read they get dipped in chlorine. (Confession: I’m not great at buying non-chlorine-bleached paper products, Kevin is very specific about the thickness of his toilet paper.)
I think I’m done buying conventionally-raised chicken at Wegmans. Which sucks because we like to eat chicken breast and all the locally-grown organic chickens I’ve found all come whole (and often frozen). I’m not a huge fan of playing with raw chicken meat, but I do know how to cut up a bird — which is an option if I can find it fresh, chop it up and freeze it myself.
I have another confession, though, and I feel guilty saying this: it’s going to take some getting used to. I’ve eaten healthy, pasture-raised chicken from Honeyhill Farm and Heiden Valley Farms and it really does taste different than conventionally-raised chicken. And I don’t know if there’s something wrong with my texture-sensor and tastebuds or if I’m just used to eating poop soup marinated chicken, but I kinda like the icky stuff better.
Oh well, I managed to eat all the leeks from the CSA this winter so clearly I can manage to adjust.
Going gluten free
I have something of a love/hate relationship with modern medicine. I think we reach for antibiotics too readily, for example. And I would have prefered to have my babies at home or in a birthing center rather than the hospital. However, I’m also thankful that, in the event of a life-threatening emergency–or the need for hip surgery–it’s there to save the day.
So I’m not a huge fan of going to the doctor. While I have fibromyalgia, every possible test they run comes back in the normal range (OK, except for my Vitamin D level). And there’s no real medicine for fibromyalgia, no pill to pop for a magical cure. Sure, there’s Lyrica–but I have my misgivings about something that’s probably going to make me drowsy, sleepy and gain weight. I can do that without prescription meds!
At my last visit, much to my horror, my doctor suggested I try a gluten-free diet. I’ve done that before. A couple of times. And now I’m doing it again. And you know what? I do feel better. I guess I’ve got a love/hate relationship with gluten now, too. So long chewy, delicious comfort food. Oh, how I’ll miss you.
However, as with just about anything I do, I’m going gung-ho on gluten-free-ness. I’m currently working on a new website that will feature information on celiac disease (which I fortunately do not have), gluten intolerance and sensitivity (which I do have), recipes and reviews of books, good and restaurants. It’ll be up soon.
At least being gluten-free this time is a little easier than before (my last stint was in 2000-2001). There’s a lot more selection at the supermarket now. And thank God for Bob’s Red Mill, with their line of gluten-free flours and mixes. Plus, they just posted a recipe for gf brownies using almond meal flour (which I bought for making Christmas cookies and am not sure what to do with it now — it’s just been sitting in the freezer). It’s Berry’s birthday party on Saturday and while she’ll have a lovely gluten-full Elmo birthday cake to eat, I need something chocalatey to enjoy as well!
The rewards of being an imperfect Mum
First, admit one thing you feel awful about involving being a Mom. Get it off your shoulders. Once you’ve written it down, you are No Longer allowed to feel bad. It’s over with, it’s in the past. Remember, you’re a good Mom!
Just one thing? I often feel bad that I get as impatient and irritable as I do with the kids. But sometimes the incessant motion, talking/whining/begging/yelling and not-listening gets to me. Fielding multiple requests at once, usually while I’m in the middle of doing something else that I can’t put down and stop (like cooking), becomes overwhelming. And I lose my patience.
I remember my own Mum becoming irritable and impatient with me as a child (I also remember being a big whiner 
) and, well, I understand where she was coming from now. She, also, had a chronic illness to battle which doesn’t help energy or patience levels.
Then there was the time I locked the kids in the car outside of the health food store and had to call the fire department to jimmy open the door…all the while yelling through the window at the one not to hit the other one…hahahahaha….oh, good times.
Then, remind yourself you are a good Mom, list seven things you love about your kids, you love doing with your kids, or that your kids love about you. These are the things to remind yourself everyday that you rock!
1. I love watching my kids when they’re absorbed in something (OK, this is often a TV show). They’re still, concentrating. I love looking at their profiles and seeing how similar they are in many ways, yet different at the same time.
2. My favorite time of day is just before I go to bed. I peek in on the kiddos, making sure they’re tucked in under the covers, favorite loveys cuddled up with them. I take a moment to kiss them and snuggle them a little bit, without disturbing them. They look and smell so delicious I want to get in bed with them for a while. But I leave and go to my room and pray they won’t wake me up during the night, instead.
3. I confess that I don’t love taking them to the playground. It’s a selfish reason — I just stand there and don’t get to move around much myself. But I do love going for walks with them and being outdoors. And I look forward to doing more and more of that as they get older.
4. I love gardening with them. Last year, Duncan helped me plant peas and beans and it brought me such joy — showing him how to put the seeds in the holes, then pat down the soil. They both love helping to water the garden with rainwater we collect from the garage roof. And, telling them we’re eating vegetables they helped to grow gives them more incentive to eat them.
5. My kids love my cuddles. Now that they’re both weaned (finally!), they come and cuddle with me in bed in the mornings. I’m not sure that Kevin likes it, but it gives me some extra lying-down time and, well, I love their cuddles, too.
6. I am constantly amazed at how much they’re learning. Duncan told me yesterday that 2 + 3 is 5 and our snuggle time this morning consisted of doing math with my fingers. He’s 3. How does he know this already?
7. I love time out. I’m grateful for an effective discipline strategy that works for both me and them. I guess that’s not something I love about my kids or that they love about me. But it’s much better than yelling or hitting. And I do love that they sit there for their alloted time, then apologize and give hugs. And then we get on with things.
Parents are often hard on themselves. While sometimes we take the guilt too far, I think it’s also a good thing. There’s a lot of expectation that we place on ourselves — from our own upbringing, how we imagined our parents to be, what we think the ideal parent is and what we think society expects from us. I’m always striving to be a better parent — mostly to parent with awareness, being conscious of the decisions I make and what kind of mother I choose to be.
So, now to pass this award on to 5 4 other Mom’s who also blog:
Anna at Moments on the Silver’s Screen
Shelley at Never Dull With Kids
Liz at Mom-101
Bethany at Mommy Writer
A plastic bag shortage
I’ve been working hard on doing the simple earth-friendly things — taking my own canvas bags to the store and composting our kitchen scraps.
At first, it was hard to get in the rhythm of taking my own bags to the store. Then I read about a challenge to not use any new plastic products for a week and, while that seemed too much for me right now, I did start re-using plastic produce bags. I admit, I do it on the sly, so that people don’t think I’m crazy. I’ve always disliked those flimsy produce bags that people take without thinking. Most of the time, I don’t bag my produce in plastic and, when Kevin shops and everything comes home plastic covered, I take it all out before I put it in the fridge (unless containing the vegetables makes sense, such as green beans).
Now, I have become quite accustomed to grabbing the reusable bags along with the shopping list before I leave the house. And I’ve found a lot of satisfaction in seeing a whole cart load of groceries finding their place in a half-dozen bags, rather than 20+ plastic grocery bags. You can fill resuable bags right up, making it easier to unload the car and get the groceries in the house. And then there are no crinkly bags to deal with. I’ve never liked the sound plastic bags make. It grates on me.
However, I have become so good at this that we are experiencing a dire shortage of plastic bags. We’ve been reusing them in the house for years — mostly as garbage bin liners, but also for cleaning the cat’s litter box and using as lightweight packing materials. I haven’t bought a box of garbage bags in years. But now, apparently, I need to, as we have no grocery bags left!
I’ve decided the thing to do here is not to get plastic grocery bags from the store. The thing to do is to find biodegradable plastic bags and buy those instead. I might have to do some hunting around.
So far, I’ve found BioBags which come in both 3-gallon and tall kitchen bag varieties. That would be great for lining the compost bin so I don’t have to trek out into the cold, snowy backyard every time it’s full. Now I just have to find a local store that carries them — perhaps when I go to pick up our winter shares from the CSA tomorrow or refill our supply of kiddie multivitamins.
Cookies, crumble and Christmas pudding
I’m not much of a cookie maker. I can’t ever seem to get oatmeal raisin or chocolate chip cookies to melt onto the cookie tray without being flat and achieve the perfect balance of crispy and chewy.
Plus, a batch of three dozen cookies isn’t exactly in my daily eating plans (because you have to eat them after you bake them!) Kevin doesn’t like them and I can only let the kids eat so many and retain a good conscience.
However, at Christmas, well…for a couple of days, the whole grain goodness of my diet tends to get a bit lax. It’s OK. And if it’s going to slip a bit, it might as well be into these Strawberry Thumbprint Cookies made with Bob’s Red Mill almond meal. I only hope they have the almond meal at my grocery story when I go shopping next week. I’ll substitute butter for dairy-free margarine so Kevin and his mom can eat them.
In the vein of Christmas food, I haven’t finalized my Christmas dinner menu yet. I know there’ll be turkey. That’s in the freezer already, courtesy of my father-in-law. There will also be yorkshire pudding, of course, a staple at any English feast, along with roast potatoes and parsnips. I’m still debating the merits of brussels sprouts. Last year, I grew them in my garden, then sauteed them in garlic and olive oil (after steaming for a while first). Yum! A few people ate them. Maybe Kevin even tried some.
Another staple at Christmas and Thanksgiving is my sweet potato casserole. I’ll post the recipe for that sometime. It’s dessert with the main course.
Now, for dessert, I’m just not sure. I fancy making some Christmas pudding, but haven’t made it since I was 5 or 6 years old as a class project. I like Christmas pudding. And you can just buy them in Wegmans. But I’ll also be feeding a couple of semi-vegetarians that may not appreciate being served grated suet (they’ll eat the turkey, just not a cow). This Apple and Carrot Christmas Pudding from allrecipes.com looks plausible. I may even have all the ingredients already. It’s that, or the old standby — apple crumble.
Making a difference at Christmas
Would you choose to feed a child for 4 months or buy him a new set of clothes?
I was just asked that question by a friend of mine, who is helping children in Kenya. She’s about to make a return visit there and is looking for help with a project that she started during her last visit – buying new clothes for children who currently only have one outfit.
Becca spent some time in Nairobi, Kenya last year as a missionary, teaching pastors and children how to use computers and set up websites. Her goal is for the projects to be sustainable, so that they can continue on in her absence. Read more about it.
She writes, “The program we started while I was there has been keeping itself going since I left in May. The man in charge, a Kenyan named Henry, really wants to get Christmas outfits for the children – they currently only have one pair of clothes (for sleep/school/home/etc.).”
$7-10 USD will buy one outfit for a child. $2.40 USD will purchase food for one month.
I made a small donation through the donate button on Becca’s blog. That was easy. But how on earth can I decide on either clothing or feeding a child? Perhaps the only answer is to donate a little more.