Aggle Flaggle Klabble

Well... Christmas is over, and sadly, I'm glad. 

While Girl should have been amazed and astounded at the wonder of it all... or at least sugar-buzzed and over-excited, she wasn't.  The poor kid has been suffering from a nasty bout of the dreaded influenza, and though the fever has been gone for a bit, she's apparently not happy unless she's asleep.  Two days ago she was awake a grand total of 5 hours, and yesterday wasn't much better.  Today, however, being Christmas day, she didn't get a nap, (though, in the spirit of full-disclosure, she did sleep until 1pm) and it was a brutal day for us both.  She could care less about presents, or food, or decorations or candy.  She felt miserable and I felt miserable because there was nothing I could do for her.

I know this won't scar her for the rest of her life, and she likely won't have panic attacks come next Christmas, but it really makes me feel crappy.  She is such a fun and crazy kid, and this would have been some parties she would really have enjoyed!  Instead, she was happiest when I put her in her bed. 

It's really hard not to feel as though I should have done something better, or tried harder or somehow been given a Christmas miracle that would have made it all better. Poor kid.  Poor mom.  I know I'm just beating myself up for no good reason, and logically, I understand, but maybe the pregnancy hormones are also kicking in, because I'm pretty down and out.

I just want a do-over... but give us both a week to recouperate.

Open Letter to Girl.

Dear Girl,

I love you, but let's face it...  no matter how many times you say "I don't want my nap"  you're still going to get one.

That is all.

Sincerely...  your loving mother.

Yes, I am opinionated. I know that.

Let me say this right off the bat...  I am not a risk taker, so articles like this one make me uncomfortable.  I read about it on a pregnancy forum and there were definite mixed reviews.  I knew how I felt, and I knew what many of the comments would be, but I read them anyway.  The basic story is that there was a woman, who after having 3 c-sections, got pregnant and decided against her doctor's wishes to give birth naturally at home.  Miraculously, everything was fine... hence the article (and it's subsequent airtime on pregnancy forums everywhere).  There was a lot of praise for the woman for being "strong enough to stand up to her evil doctor"... those people who "felt uncomfortable" or thought the mom was lucky were quickly shot down and insulted.

Apparently the motivation was a sense of being "robbed" by being forced into c-sections.  The general consensus is "once a c-section, always a c-section" because scar tissue is weak, and previous scars can rupture.  This woman was unable to find a doctor within 90 miles who would entertain a "VBAC"  (vaginal birth after c-section), so therefore ignored all of their advice and decided to give birth at home. 

I know women have been giving birth at home for thousands of years, every home-birth advocate is quick to remind us of that... however, they are less quick to mention that until the advent of things like c-sections, hospitalized births, etc etc, childbirth was the NUMBER ONE KILLER of women (by a wide margin).  Now I think it's heart disease. 

I have a lot of trouble with people who talk about "doctors who'd rather cut you open than wait a few more hours for a baby to come out naturally".  I had a baby...  I saw the doctor a few times, but I think a c-section would have monopolized significantly more time.    Oh wait...  the fact that the doctor wasn't in the room the whole time is ALSO a bad thing.  Good grief.  Poor doctors.  They just can't win.  

First of all...  if your doctor is going to cut you open out of boredom or laziness... get a new doctor.  C-sections are major surgery.  I was stuck at 9.5 centimeters for 10 hours, and they did talk about a c-section, partially because I wasn't progressing and partially because there was an abnormality in the baby's heart rate during contractions.   I didn't have one.  They opted instead to have me take naps (ANNOYING!) and rest on my side in hopes that the baby would shift and that we could avoid surgery. 

I'm glad I didn't have to have a c-section, but not because I would have felt robbed of some rite of motherhood, I just didn't want to stay in the hospital any longer.   I always wonder why we don't give ourselves a break sometimes.  Ok, so, you had to have a c-section, big deal, your baby is alive and healthy and so are you.  (Likely not the case before they came up with this brilliant idea).  After my mom gave birth to my brother via c-section, they sent a counsellor into her room to help her deal with the grief of "not being a real mom".  She looked at them, square in the eye, and said "I don't care if you took the baby out through my nose, I am a real mom."

Isn't that the point of being a real mom? Being willing to make sacrifices of yourself and what YOU want because that is what's best for the baby.  I'm not a doctor... I didn't go to school for a million years and the deliver thousands of babies in a variety of different ways... so I think I'll defer to the experience of others.  (That, and unless my husband is a doctor, and I live across the street from a hospital, and I have a self- cleaning house, I would never choose to give birth at home). 

There are some risks I am willing to take... but guessing about the life of my baby and the life of my baby's mom is not one of them.

Every baby is different.

I think I swallowed a very large goldfish (or two) and they are trying to figure out how to get through my intestines.  Oh wait...  my intestines aren't there anymore.

I remember this, vaguely, but this time it seems so early.  I think I felt my first baby flutters at about 18-19 weeks last time, and here I am at 17, and we're well beyond flutters.  Husband actually felt some definite kicks last night, which he wasn't able to do until well past 20 weeks last time. 

It's interesting.  They say that second-time moms feel the baby earlier, mainly because they know what it's supposed to feel like and are better able to discern between normal digestion and the baby, but do the babies themselves progress faster?   I can't believe that's the case.  I suppose I can chalk it up to "every baby/mom/pregnancy is different"  which is pretty much the catch-all excuse for anything when it comes to babies.    Ok, so I do still have that silly little doubt that there is only one in there, but I'm trying to reform.

I have also, after much more severe morning sickness this time around, lost all of my normal gag reflex.  I tried to throw away some leftover veggie dip yesterday (it wasn't even mouldy or gross, just questionable) and it made me toss my cookies...  or my bagel, as it were.    Here's hoping Girl doesn't get the flu again...  sympathy puking at its best.

I'm going to be crooked again.  The baby has far surpassed the "1-2 inches below your belly button" point (where I'm supposed to be), and has also taken over my entire right side, pretty much to my ribs already.  It won't be long before my shoulders start to go a bit cock-eyed.  I have a doctor's appointment today, so I'm prepared to hear the normal battery of questions.  "How far along are you?"... "Are you SURE of your dates?"...  "Do twins run in the family?"...  aaaaah.  nothing like doctors to reassure you.

Two is company, three is a crowd.

I have a strange kind of superstition.  I don't know why.  No one else seems to understand it, so it can't be inherited.  I guess it's just something I came up with along the way. 

When I was pregnant with Girl, I was a walking contradiction.  I measured way too big, but wasn't showing much at all.  I was warned about twins and the whole time I hoped for them.  People thought I was nuts, but my reasoning was somewhat sound.  You see, I wanted 2 kids, and it seemed more my style to do it all at once.  Go big or go home!  Of course, but the time I had my ultrasound I knew it wasn't to be. 

Now, I fear I have set myself up for the ultimate "God-has-a-sense-of-humor-moment."  It's this time before the ultrasound that messes with my head (and it doesn't help that I somehow end up with late ultrasounds EVERY TIME!)  I'm too big again, which should be obvious, since it's the same as last time, but now, it just seems more appropriate for my type of luck. 

The thought of twins NOW is terrifying.   Purely the logistics of the situation are beyond me.  I couldn't even buy groceries without needing another person. 

Luckily, my superstition has another odd side to it.  I heard from my SIL yesterday, who had been speaking with a pregnant store clerk.  Apparently she was looking a little shell-shocked and mentioned that she just found out she was having twins and she had a 2-year-old at home.

AAAH.  Relief. 

Someone else came along and stole my scary destiny. 

All is well in Whoville!

Fake Tree... Fake Christmas

I can't do it...  I just can't.  For the last few weeks I have had my home decorated for a Christmas house tour, as around a thousand strangers tromped through and ooh-ed and ah-ed at my Christmas-y house (which incidently was decorated by the beginning of November).  It was fun, and today, as I take down Christmas decorations to send back to the store from whence they came, and replace them with more of my own, I can't help but stare at the artificial Christmas tree standing in the corner.   It's pretty enough.  Lit with lights and bedazzled with shiny baubles, it's ok. 

But, it's not a real tree.

Therefore, it's going away.

I can't, I'd die on the inside.  Christmas would not be complete unless there was a real tree stinking up the house real nice. 

People say they're too much work, so I decided to run a comparison.  Since I believe that putting up a fake tree is tantamount to eating a deli-turkey sandwich for Christmas dinner, I figured I'd see which was more work and effort.

We usually buy a tree rather than cut one (they tend to last better and are less scraggly), but I also buy my turkey rather than raise one and kill it, so I suppose we're even at the gate.

CHRISTMAS TREE:

Real Tree

Buying and bringing home tree - 45 minutes

Lighting and decorating (properly) - 2 hours

Watering 2 min/day over 14 days - 28 minutes

Undecorating - 1 hour

Vacuuming - 10 minutes

Artificial Tree

Dragging tree from closet and setting up - 45 minutes

Decorating - 30 minutes

Undecorating -30 minutes

Cramming back into closet - 10 minutes

Total time savings by using artificial tree - 2 hours 28 minutes.

CHRISTMAS DINNER

Real Dinner

Grocery shopping - 1 hour

Table setting - 1 hour

Cleaning for guests - 2 hours

Turkey - 4 hours

Potatoes - 45 minutes

Stuffing - 1 hour

Green Bean Casserole - 15 minutes

Gravy - 15 minutes

Carrots - 30 minutes

Homemade dinner rolls - 2 hours

Cranberry sauce - 20 minutes

Dessert - 1 hour

Cookie platter - 2 hours

Fake Dinner

make deli-turkey sandwich - 10 minutes

Total time savings by eating sandwich - 11 hours, 55 minutes

As you can see by my detailed and fully accurate comparison, You are saving far more time by making a sandwich than you ever would by getting an artificial tree.  Luckily, we have not yet found a way to kill the joy of Christmas dinner in the name of ease and expediency.  Granted, those among you who say that real trees are not worth it because they are too much work are probably the people who let their family do the turkey dinner, and merely attend. 

Let's not quibble.  I will bask in the light of my tree, with it's heavenly scent, and you can ignore yours in the corner while you watch TV.

Death sucks.

I'm not really a crier... I used to be, but there was a point in my life when it seemed like I had just run out.  I didn't have any tears left, and though the pain was still as real for me as for anyone else, I had lost the need to cry.  I don't think it's a problem, since everyone deals with grief in their own way, and my way just so happens to be different. 

Bring on the raging hormones. 

Being pregnant makes me well up at commercials.  It's foreign to me.  I don't know what to do with myself.

A friend of mine lost a dad this week.  Neither Husband nor I have living fathers anymore.  His died shortly after our wedding (almost exactly nine years ago), and mine four and a half years ago.  We still grieve.  Our lives were changed in such remarkable ways.  Our children won't have a grandfather, and as someone who grew up with all her grandparents (and still have my own grandfather), it's sometimes really hard to take. 

Hearing that someone else is walking where we have brings up all the pain again.  It sucks.  I hate that they need to feel this, and go through it, as much as I hate the fact that I understand all too well.  

Death is guaranteed.  There is nothing we can do to stop it, and nothing we can do to predict it, but it still hurts like hell sometimes, and I guess we just have to let it.

Working for Luck.

Everything in life is a balance of choices.  We make our choices and then they are ours to live with.  We sacrifice things that are not important to us to gain things that are.  I get frustrated sometimes when I feel that others judge me because of what I have gained, and don't understand the sacrifice. 

I was fortunate when I married Husband that we were mainly on the same page.  Number of cars notwithstanding, we usually have a pretty good grasp of our collective goals and do what we can to achieve them.  In doing this, we were able to pay off our first mortgage in 3 years and live mortgage free until we purchased our current house.  I agree, there was some luck involved, mainly pertaining to the housing market that skyrocketed soon after we purchased, but our ability to fully pay it off came down to work and sacrifice.  At the time, Husband was working a decently paying job (nothing stellar) and I was working for barely more than minimum wage, then he switched jobs to do something he loved and we were both low-pay scale.  We didn't have money pouring in but we put away every extra penny.  We didn't go on holidays, or out to movies, restaurant meals were few and far between. 

For our sacrifices, the common response is "You're so lucky".  Luck, my friends, is winning the lottery.    Even now, after purchasing our current home, we are still well into a positive net worth, which, I think, is fantastic for people our age. 

As a parent, I often feel the same way.  We look at each other and bestow the label of "lucky" without really understanding sacrifices.  I feel lucky in that Girl is healthy, not because she is well-behaved in the grocery store.    It frustrates me to no end when people tell me I'm lucky because Girl doesn't pull things from the shelves and run screaming up and down aisles.  They don't see the times I've abandoned a cart of groceries, or held a screaming child while paying (because I wouldn't put her down to run free).  The sad thing is, that if those same people DID see that, they would judge me as being a bad mother. It's a catch 22. 

Recently, on a side note, my widowed mother was asked where she worked. She doesn't work.  The people were surprised and she simply commented "life insurance".  (She didn't get a huge amount, but she lives simply and manages).  These people told her she was LUCKY.  I wanted to hit them.  She is fortunate to have the option, but if given the choice, she would throw away the money and take my dad in a heartbeat. 

I think it's time that we as parents, and as humans, started giving each other the benefit of the doubt and just stopped using the word "lucky" all together (unless of course, someone wins the lottery, then use it all you want).  Everyone has reasons to be thankful and feel fortunate, but when you start using that as a way to somehow make yourself feel better ("oh, they're just lucky, their kids must have been born well-disciplined"), you're doing no one justice. 

I am fortunate, and I'll be the first to admit it.  But don't tell me I don't work for it too.

If you're going to eat Chocolate cake...

... you'd better make it a good one.

Here is a good one.  After eating this cake, I will never use a cake mix again.


3 ounces semisweet chocolate
1 1/2 cups strong hot brewed coffee
3 cups sugar
2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 cups unsweetened cocoa powder (not Dutch process)
2 teaspoons baking soda
3/4 teaspoon baking powder
1 1/4 teaspoons salt
3 large eggs
3/4 cup vegetable oil
1 1/2 cups well-shaken buttermilk
3/4 teaspoon vanilla

Preheat oven to 300°F. and grease pans. Line bottoms with rounds of wax paper and grease paper.

Finely chop chocolate and in a bowl combine with hot coffee. Let mixture stand, stirring occasionally, until chocolate is melted and mixture is smooth.

Into a large bowl sift together sugar, flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. In another large bowl with an electric mixer beat eggs until thickened slightly and lemon colored (about 3 minutes with a standing mixer or 5 minutes with a hand-held mixer). Slowly add oil, buttermilk, vanilla, and melted chocolate mixture to eggs, beating until combined well. Add sugar mixture and beat on medium speed until just combined well. Divide batter between pans and bake in middle of oven until a tester inserted in center comes out clean, 1 hour to 1 hour and 10 minutes.

Cool layers completely in pans on racks. Run a thin knife around edges of pans and invert layers onto racks. Carefully remove wax paper and cool layers completely. Cake layers may be made 1 day ahead and kept, wrapped well in plastic wrap, at room temperature.  Cake layers can also be frozen and will keep, well wrapped, for a few weeks. 

Frost with your favourite frosting, or coat with a ganache.

(epicurious.com)

Choices.

I'm torn.

I want to go back.  My brain tells me that I should, that I made a commitment, but the rest of me tells me I've already failed, so why bother?

After more than six weeks of morning sickness, the likes of which I would never want to experience again, and being completely unable to cook, I have completely depleted my resources.  All the food I worked so hard for 3 weeks to create, store and stash is gone.  I have nothing to fall back on anymore, no quick meals to pull from the freezer for the days when cooking is a chore.  It was hard work, but I had gotten myself to a comfortable point of maintenance when all hell broke loose.  I was unable to look at food, smell food, cook food and for the most part, eat food.  Regular Cheerios saved me.

The idea of starting all over again now is hugely daunting, because it truly feels like I'm starting from scratch, and if given the choice of whether to start this now, I can't say I would make the same decision.  I think if I had been able to continue without interruption, I would have stayed the course...

... but life changed. 

I think what I may do, is modify.  I still have a stack of exciting recipes to try, and fun food experiments to do, and that is what excites me most. 

The fact that I didn't go through weird withdrawl symptoms or have any physical reactions because of my diet change, kind of proved my point.  That was what I was mainly curious about...  would my body go through some sort of shock?  or would I suddenly "feel" healthier?  Those two factors were the only reactions that would have made me really question the diet I was previously eating.  It didn't happen.  Husband lost weight, but he also went hungry a lot of the time because he didn't know what to eat.  We weren't hit with extra energy, our have any noticable differences in the way our body processes food.  That said, we didn't have a bad diet to start off with.  Perhaps if we did, like we ONLY ate processed food, we might have seen a difference. 

It proved the point I was hoping to make for myself.  Life is about balance.  There is no evil food, there is no food that will help you live forever.  Think moderation, and balance.  Eat what you love, and love those you eat with.  Life is too short to cut out the things you love.

Eating only homemade and food made from scratch made us miss some of that.  Not only the food, but the fellowship and family.  We were unable to go out with our friends and family to most restaurants.  Even those that boasted about cooking from scratch had ingredients that I had purged from my fridge. 

There are a lot of things I won't go back to, and I'll continue to post fun from-scratch recipes, but I might have to keep Cheerios in my cupboard.

Internet Propaganda

It litters my Facebook newsfeed.  Internet propaganda.  We all know what it is, those little links that people post to "make a point" that they are somehow superior because someone else has "done a study" about something or another.  The latest one that bugs me is the McDonalds happy meal "experiment".  You've seen it.  Someone took a plain hamburger and fries, left it on a plate for 6 months and then concluded that because it didn't decompose, it was obviously so full of preservatives and plastic that it was not actual food.   I don't even want to post the link because it's so preposterous, but in the interest of full-disclosure, here you go.   This isn't the actual experiment, but rather a typical blog post about it.   (I'm curious to know why they expected to find worms?  I have let PLENTY of food rot in my house, and so far, no worms.  Oh yeah, because worms are living creatures who need to come from somewhere... like an egg)

As soon as I saw this so-called-experiment, I was dubious (to be polite).  Take the bread to start...  as someone who makes her own bread crumbs by doing little but leaving bread on a counter until it petrifies, I can attest that if you leave bread in a bag, it will grow mould, but if you leave it exposed to the open air, the moisture content will dissipate faster than mould can grow.  Mould needs moisture.  I could tell that all that was happening was that this hamburger was drying out and petrifying well before being allowed to rot.

Even consider your compost bin...  stuff doesn't decompose if you just leave it out there, you have to mix it together, add moisture and heat.

All I wanted to do was go out, buy an organic tofu burger and do the exact same experiment.

Luckily, 30 seconds on the internet saved me the trouble (of having half a dozen different hamburgers drying out on my dining room table).  Lo and behold, people had already done it.   This time, however, they had followed the rules of an elementary school science fair, and included more than one variable, and... *drumroll* ... a CONTROL.  (If you're trying to prove that a certain hamburger doesn't rot because of the amount of preservatives, you'd better darn well try the same experiment with a hamburger that has no preservatives.)

Surprise, surprise.  All the hamburgers acted in exactly the same way, thereby proving that this "experiment" that is so widely promoted as fact, is in fact, hogwash.  (And before you start whining about the fries, someone did an experiment on that one too)

Test your spirits people, don't believe everything you read on the internet.  If you look hard enough, you can "prove" just about anything, whether actually valid or not.  If you don't want to eat fast food, that's your choice, but that doesn't mean you need to judge others for their choices.  I have no problems with fast food, and I'm not ashamed to admit it.  I don't eat it often, but when I do, I enjoy it.  I balance it with fresh vegetables, whole grains and lean protein, and I don't feel guilty.

Mommy Therapy

I try really hard not to brag about my daughter (because really...  it's too easy), but sometimes...  I just can't help it.  I knew I had to do a post like this at some point, even if only because I have been so terrible keeping notes for her baby book.  At some point I needed to write down a little bit about her so people would think I've been paying attention. 

Girl is brilliant.  I am her mother and I can say that.

At 21-months-old, she has been daytime potty trained for 5 months now.  I haven't attempted night-training because she can't use the toilet on her own (or get out of her crib for that matter) and I like the 12 hours of peace she gives me on a daily basis.  People may think I'm nuts to train her that early, but it wasn't really my idea.  She came up with it on her own.  Yes, I did spend a week at home, following, prompting and cleaning up accidents, she didn't actually potty-train herself... but the idea was all hers.

She knows her letters, all of them, not in order, and can recognize her own name.  She counted to 13 on Monday when I had a corroborating witness in the car with me (she had done it before, but I was alone with her).  About half the time she says please and thank-you without being prompted and is starting to add the "may I..." to the sentences.  There is nothing cuter than a kid who says "thanks mom" when you hand her something. 

Some recent sentences:  "I'm crying about the dinosaurs"... "I'll get a pillow for you, mom"... "There's a lion looking in the window"...

I think I needed this post.  It was kind of therapeutic, since yesterday I could have used a stiff drink.  With all children, there are days when the whine in their voice grates on you, and for whatever reason they just aren't happy with anything.  It's exhausting and frustrating and sometimes I think I'd pick chinese water torture over it.

But...  when you force yourself to remember the moments of happiness, of triumph and love, it gets you through. 

Happy Movember.

There are seldom times when I wish I could grow a mustache.  However, I can make an exception for November...  or "Movember". 

Bring pregnant during Breast Cancer Awareness Month it constantly made me well up a little when they'd run commercials about the fire fighters wearing pink in support of breast cancer research, same with football players.  As a woman, I often wonder why breast cancer seems to get so much more publicity.  Husband had a point when he mentioned that women are really just more organized.  And hey. men like breasts, women have breasts, it's kind of win-win for everybody.

Prostate cancer on the other hand...  nobody really wants to talk about the prostate.  Women don't have one, and men... well...  it's a sensitive area.  

So, if Husband wants to grow a mustache this month in support of Prostate cancer research, I'll be as supportive as all those manly firemen in their pink t-shirts.  I'll also be watching...  anyone with a fuzzy upper lip will get a thumbs-up from me!

Bonus points to you guys who are a bit patchy and scraggly.

I've missed you... Productivity.

I really think I may have hit the next level.  I haven't had to force my cheerios down for the last 2 mornings and I have rediscovered energy and the need to be productive.  Hello second trimester!  I've been waiting for your arrival, and am happy to see you!

I figured it out yesterday when I had the overwhelming urge to scrub Husband's shower (which, admittedly, has been in a sorry state of cleanliness for a while now).  I feel like I can get anything done today.  I am superwoman and nothing is going to stop me. 

I've been feeling so behind, but just too exhausted to do anything about it.  I still have a few lingering arguments with food, but I'm hoping we can patch things up soon. 

Today is a new day, a day for laundry, organization, cleanliness and order.  I might even do the dishes! (this is surprising because for the last 6 weeks dirty dishes have made me gag). 

Light in the Dark.

I had some interesting discussions in the last few days.  There is such an interesting polarity within Christian circles about the *insert creepy music* darkest night of the year.  Yup, Halloween has come and gone and I'm still terrified. 

As someone who grew up in a strong Christian household and also "celebrated" Halloween (if to you celebrating is dressing up in a fun costume and going out to get candy), I've never really seen a big problem with it.  Yes, there are those who love their fear and gore, and likely some weirdo people out there, but really, those people are out all year long.

In some ways, I can understand why Christians feel uneasy about Halloween, often with the rationale that Halloween was created to celebrate evil.  I personally am not willing to give the devil a whole day, so rather than hide out in the basement, I am going to use it as the opportunity it is. 

Over the years I have heard quoted the popular "Be in the world, but not of the world" (which I had always believed was a direct quote from the Bible... interestingly, it's a mix of a handful of verses in John 17).  We have Christians have used this as an excuse to segregate ourselves, with the pious attitude that we are doing the world a service.   Being in the world, in my opinion, is not merely being physically present on the earth.  What purpose does that serve?

We are called to be salt and light.  Lets think about that for a minute.  What do you do with salt?  You mix it in.  You use it, ideally in a way that it is unnoticed, in small amounts to bring out the flavours of a large amount of food.  You don't collect all the salt and hide it in the cupboard, (unless you have high blood pressure of course).  Similarly, when does light have the greatest effect?  When it's dark.  And when is it even more effective? When there are a lot of lights together in the dark.  We aren't called to put all our lights in one room together, hiding out in hopes that the rest of the dark world will just see it and come like moths to the flame.

But that's what we do.

We have taken our kids out of public schools so they aren't influenced, but in the process we forget what good influence our child can have on a classroom of peers.  We surround ourselves with people just like us, and don't seem to care that all our friends are from church.  We abstain from all activities with "non-church people".  What good is light if it's hidden in the cupboard?

Halloween is an opportunity.  At the most basic level it is an opportunity to meet your neighbours, people you share pavement with and may not have opportunities to meet.  It is an opportunity to be hospitable, open your doors to the kids in the neighbourhood, show love and appreciation for them.  It is an opportunity to be part of keeping your streets safe, and those bound for trouble somewhere else. 

We are called to be light... and what night could use more light than Halloween?

Getting Pregnant 101

Step one:  Do all things normally associated with getting pregnant.

Step two:  Commit to a year-long insane plan of eating all whole foods. 

Step three: Nope, there is no step 3.  That's it.

It happened.  I knew it would.  I knew that the second I committed to this cockamamie plan that I'd instantly get pregnant.  It's how things work with me.  Life changes only come when I don't allow time for them.  I wasn't too worried, I've been pregnant before and I didn't forsee any problems doing both at the same time.  Boy, was I wrong. 

Morning sickness hits me almost instantly.  I'm not one of those people who gets a few weeks to digest and then has the sickness hit at about 6 weeks (normal).  I usually have a pretty good idea that I'm pregnant when it's still too early to test.  Unfortunately, at 6 weeks...  the REAL morning sickness hit.  Suddenly I was sick all the time.  I couldn't stand to see food, eat food, think about food, cook food.   I was completely useless (still am actually).

I force myself to eat because I know it will only get substantially worse otherwise.  It's better to eat breakfast twice than to not eat breakfast at all, and unlike the stomach flu, you can't avoid puking by not eating.  You can however, sometimes avoid puking if you DO eat.

Interestingly, I developed a food aversion to, well, everything homemade.  Which gave me a difficult choice.  Well, it wasn't that difficult.  The baby needed food and if the only food I could keep down was pre-processed, I would eat it.  Contrary to popular belief, I'm not actually crazy.  I have been surviving on Cheerios, Saltines, fruit and granola bars.  I can usually fit in other foods too... sometimes, but please don't ask me to cook it.  Interestingly, I have discovered that I can eat a bowl of Cheerios right after throwing one up.  Who knew!?

So, if you think that means I failed my Real Food Experiment, oh well.  I suppose technically I did...  but I'm hoping I'm just taking a brief hiatus and this gets better so I can continue on.

However, the true, secret, motive for my plan has been accomplished, so even if I can't do it anymore...  I'm still pregnant. 

BOOYAH!

eek.

I'd like to start a support group for those of us with over-active imaginations.

There is some marginal benefit to having a good imagination, especially if you can figure out a way to make money with it, but there is a dark downside. 

Nothing is safe.

As soon as I had Girl into her own bed in her own room (a week or two after I had her) and starting using the baby monitor...  my imagination reared it's ugly head.  I would have these recurrin episodes of "It would be SO SCARY IF..."  and then visions of watching the baby monitor as a calm, rough voice crackled through the speaker, alerting me that he "has my baby", and I can come up and get her if I want. 

*SHUDDER*

I don't know why I do it to myself.  Can't I just be like the rest of the world, to whom a baby monitor is nothing more than surveillance? 

The scary thing is that this isn't even all.  Perhaps I enjoy being scared and freaking myself out.  I do really enjoy Criminal Minds after all.  There is a fairly remote chance that the way I go out will be linked to a serial killer, but...  you never know.  I hope I'm not that person in the movie who runs from the house when everyone in the theatre is screaming not to, but rather the one who somehow, through sheer resiliancy, makes it out alive, scarred for life.

I need a support group.

A Blind Eye.

I watched The Blind Side yesterday.  I know it's been out for a good long while, but hey, I don't get to see many movies these days.  It was quite enjoyable and I can understand why it got good reviews.  I, however took something very different from the movie.  I was able, in a few small places to see a glimpse of my Oma.  Sandra Bullock's character reminded me so much of her.  Not in the bleached and coiffed southern black walnut kind of way (tough nut to crack), but in the no-nonsense version of compassion.  It's what I saw when I grew up.  Whether it was the family of my Opa's health care worker who was stuggling and she went out and bought a pile of groceries, or the numerous "strays" that graced our family dinner tables over the years...  there was always room. 

Along the same lines, I saw an episode of Oprah recently that reminded me of the same thing.  There was a women, a US veteran who had served in the Pentagon as well as in Iraq and Afghanistan, and now, for the last year, has lived in a car.  Her pension pays the $10 a day car rental with about $3 a day to live on.  It made me sad, not because she was homeless and it was a shame, but because I couldn't imagine letting anyone I knew live in a car.  Does she have no family?  No friends?  She had housing, but she gave it up voluntarily to another female vet because that woman had children.  Could they not have shared?  It was just so far beyond my understanding that the people around her would let that happen.

I've been blessed, I have a house with room to spare.  I have money to buy groceries and cook what I need and want.  There is no reason at all that I can't share that.  It might be uncomfortable, it might be difficult, but it's the right thing to do, and I hope that if given the opportunity, I will have the strength to do it.

What's in a name?

I was talking to my pregnant cousin recently, and the topic of choosing baby names came up, as it invariably does when talking to pregnant people (they have such one-track minds).

To be completely honest and opinionated, I think this recent trend of annoyingly unique baby names has got to stop.  As a mother, my job in life is to give my child a good start, and not cripple them for life.  Girl has a name that is not really common (really, who names their child "Girl"?) but it's phonetic, and common enough that people will know how to spell it and pronounce it.  We don't have an easy last name to start out with, but I have a lot of trouble with the fact that no matter what your name is these days, you HAVE to spell it outloud for everyone who needs it.  There are too many variations of the exact same name that we might as well wear nametags to make life easier (with a phonetic spelling underneath of course)

I feel sorry for teachers.  With a class list of Aymeighs and Maiyas and Khrises, how they struggle through roll call the first day is beyond me.  They must get phonetic spellings.  This doesn't even mention the names that aren't really names...  like Pinstripe and Telephone and Orange.  Are those boys or girls?  I have no idea. 

Remember in the 60's (heh, because you know I remember so well), there was a contingent of people who believed that naming their children Wind and Rain and Sunshine was a good idea.  Why?  No one knows, but those people have grown up now and are in their 40s, and stuck with a name that immediately dates them (and for some, may possibly embarass them).

I think the madness will stop someday.  We will go back to more traditional names, (goodness, are there really not enough of them? The poor people writing baby-name books in the next 5 years...) if only because we run out of silent letters to add. 

Running

I hate running.  Let's just get that out there.  I know it's SUPPOSEDLY good for you (though I can recite a loing list of people for whom running has destroyed their joints... my joints in contrast are perfectly fine), but I can't really bring myself to do it.

Husband loves to run.  He is weird.  I'm proud of him though.  Today, he finished his first half-marathon, beating his goal by 24 seconds.  His time was 1:44:36.  I was sleeping through most of it.  It was also in a time zone an hour ahead of us, so don't be too appalled. 

I just have trouble with running.  I blame it on boobs mostly.  That way Husband can't complain.  You really gotta tie those babies down or you got serious problems.  I have an expensive sports bra (stupid thing cost me $120 and looks like it's made out of a bad bridesmaid dress) which works pretty well, but really...  some people are built to run, and I am not one of them.  I also have short legs, so I can take the same number of steps as Husband and his natural stilts, and go half the distance.  No thanks. 

Part of me feels like I should run...  because it's good for you, and all the really skinny people do it.  I think it's easier for skinny people.  Less wind resistance.  That, and skinny people don't usually have big boobs. 

See, I can come up with justification for anything.

Update

I was told today that I have to put up new blog entries otherwise people may believe I have spiralled into a deep depression.  No depression thus far...  just the plain old crazy life.  I've been checking things of the list/pile that seems to be devouring me, and still so many of my dreams and goals are being left until I have more time.  Good luck with that.  I haven't written in months, though my book still swirls in my head at inopportune times (like when I should be sleeping).  I really need to write it down. 

The Real Food Experiment is really difficult in some ways.  I find grocery shopping really hard.  I think that's mainly because I am so used to buying what I see...  being inspired by the store for what to make for dinner.  I need to actually plan ahead now.  It saves me money because ther is virtually no impulse purchasing, but it takes a bit more brain power (of which I am lacking these days).   Lunches for Husband are especially hard.  When deli meats are out (a staple of his former lunch), and anything other than homemade mayo, it takes a lot of advance planning to figure something out.  Husband has gone to work with a container of hard-boiled eggs and fruit.  Sorry hon. 

There are definitely times when I feel like giving up.  Times like now especially when I can't even find the time in life to blog about how I feel.  What is the point of doing it if no one else can learn anything from the experiment? 

Speaking of how I feel...  not that different.  I had thought (especially with all the talk of toxins and free-radicals and the evils of preservatives) that there would be some measurable change in our health.  Not really, at least for me.  Husband has lost weight (grumble), but that likely has more to do with the inability to snack on doughnuts at coffee break.  I have lost about 10 pounds in the last while, but that's a story for another day.

We'll keep going.  Maybe someday I'll feel different.  I don't though.  I think just getting on my elliptical would make more of a difference to my health than this diet is doing, but time will tell.

Missing Pieces.

This weekend, while away with my mom, we ran into some friends...  more hers than ours, but we grew up with their kids too, so close enough.  They have no grandkids yet, and although Girl doesn't have an Opa of her own, she seems very familiar with the concept.  She latched onto the man (who isn't much older than my dad would have been) and within minutes was calling him Opa and letting him tickle and play and roll in the grass with her. 

For the briefest of moments, he was my dad. 

There are times when I really miss him... less for me than for Girl.  They never met, but I know they would have had a relationship that beat all.  Dad loved kids...  he would have been teaching her insanely big words and rolling around on the floor with her.  He would have been an open lap, and open ear and always good for a laugh.  It makes me really sad sometimes that he wasn't around to see his grandkids, and that Girl doesn't have a grandfather at all (they both went to meet their maker).   No matter how I want it for Girl, I do also wish it for me.  It would have been a relationship that made me smile...  seeing my little girl and my dad share secrets and blanket forts. 

It is not to be. 

A Play.

Mom:  "I'm going to make the turkey gravy for thanksgiving"

Suzie: "Why?"  (looks confused.  She thought she would be making it)

Mom: "Because then I can use contraband"

Suzie: (more confused) "What contraband?"

Mom: "Onion soup mix"

Suzie:  (Still confused) "Since when do we put onion soup mix into turkey gravy"

Mom:  "Trust me."

Suzie:  "I have made turkey gravy 5-10 times and I have never once used onion soup mix."

Mom:  "Trust me, it'll be better"

Suzie:  (Stares at Mom is complete confusion)

Mom:  "Or is that meatballs?"

Suzie: (laughs) "Yes mom, you use onion soup mix in meatballs"

END SCENE


Sorry mom, this story was just too good to share!  So, no onion soup mix in the turkey gravy (which is good, since it is a beef-based soup).  Mom is going to bring the meatballs instead.

Second time's a charm?

It's no secret Husband and I are trying for baby #2.  Lately I've been paying close attention to those around me who have gone through this "miracle" (I use quotations because I personally find it gross and weird) more than once.  There is a definite difference between "first baby advice" and "second baby advice".

When I was pregnant with Girl, I didn't feel like I got much advice...  I think the general consensus is "don't scare the newly pregnant person".  Now that I've been through it once and people know we are not adverse to trying it again, the floodgates have opened.  I find the difference between first and second babies to be very interesting.  No matter what the first labour was like it seems as though every mom wants to do it  differently.  This is especially true in cases where there is a bad first labour experience.  I don't really know what constitutes "bad" since it's not really a picnic no matter how you slice it. 

I have heard a variety of changes "everyone" should make.  They run the gamut, from pelvic exercises to midwifery, to home births to doulas.  I didn't have a wonderful labour experience myself, but that was mostly because I was insanely late (15 days) and induced.  Girl's head was borderline too big and she was wrapped up in her umbilical cord so tightly that they were getting odd heartbeats with each contraction.  Therefore, I was induced, and trapped in a bed with heart monitors for a good 36 hours.  It wasn't fun, but I really don't think there was anything that I could have done to change it.  I tried every method known to man (or at least the internet) to get labour to start earlier on it's own...  to no avail.  I couldn't really control Girl's head size or the need for heart monitors.  Personally I'm glad to have had surgeons around in case she really needed to come out quickly. 

I often wonder about making changes.  Is it really the new methods that make life easier?  Or is it more the experience?  I'm sure there is less anxiety the second time around, since you kind of know what you're getting yourself into, and can plan a bit better for what you need.  I personally don't feel the need for a midwife or a doula, I don't need any emotional support that Husband can't provide for me (in fact, with my inappropriate sense of humor, I'd rather have people there who understand me... which not everyone does).  I actually found that my OB-GYN was a little too "hand-hold-y" for my taste, and was glad that someone else I didn't know ended up delivering.  Miraculously the nurse who was with us for 18 hours seemed to get us completely and I credit her constructive advice for Girl coming out without the need for a single stitch.  If there was anything I could request, it would be her.  If only I could remember her name.  (The nurses I got for the last few hours were more cheerleaders than helpful, which annoyed me)

I think my plan thus far is to not change anything.  I'll still hope to go into labour naturally, purely so I don't end up in the high-risk rooms again, but that's more because I prefer the idea of a private recovery room (granted, if I AM high risk, I'll pay the extra $80 for a private room anyway...  I think the worst part of Girl's birth was living in a room with a crazy person for 2 days).  So there you go.  I have a plan. 

I guess I'm kind of putting the cart before the horse, but when you have an idea for an opinionated blog entry, you just gotta go with it.  Now "all we have to do" is get those first parts moving and we're off to the races.

Chicken Stock

What can I say...  I was in a stock making mood.  Actually, I just figured if I was going to have one stock simmering on the stove, I might as well have 2.  Husband and I had a roasted chicken this week, and since I know Thanksgiving is around the corner (and I have a turkey to make) I knew I needed some stock.  You see, I don't typically stuff my birds (they cook faster and stay juicier if they're empty, not to mention potential problems with too-low-internal-temperatures-sending-all-my-guests-to-the-hospital) so in order to get a nice moist and tasty stuffing without it being stuffed into the cavity of a roasting bird, I add some roasted chicken stock. 

When you're making chicken noodle soup, I'd recommend starting with raw chicken pieces, the flavour tends to be better, but for stuffing, roasted chicken carcasses are fine (they also work if you're making a soup with lots of other flavours, vegetable soups, etc).  Hey, waste-not-want-not right?

Take your decimated carcass and dump it (and any juices in the bottom of the pan) into a large pot with half a large onion (in chunks... and you don't even have to peel it if you don't want to), a good handful of carrots and some celery if you have.  I didn't, so onions and carrots did just fine.  Cover with water and simmer on ow for a few hours.

Strain, and stick into the fridge or freezer. 

 

I got about 4-5 cups or so...  soon I'll show you how to make the stuffing...  but we need to wait until next week for that!

Beef Stock

Beef stock is one of the stocks I just about never make.  The reason being...  unlike chicken (or any kind of poultry) stock or pork stock, with beef stock, you need to start with roasted beef.  The idea of making a roast (no matter how cheap the meat) purely to dump it into a pot with water kind of seems like a lot of effort.  Unfortunately I haven't found a natural beef boullion base, or onion soup mix so if I ever want beef gravy, I'm going to need to do it. 

So, I made my mom cry a little on the inside.  After they ate their fill of roast beef, I chopped off the section with the bone and popped it into a pot with water to cover and about half a large onion (in wedges).  Apparently the section with the bone is the absolute best part, but considering I was planning on using the leftovers for roast beef sandwiches, it didn't help me much.  Getting gravy was a bit more important.  Don't worry mom, next time I'll think ahead and get some beef stock in the freezer.

Simmer on low for a few hours and miraculously, you have beef stock!  Strain out the chunks and stick it in the fridge or freezer.  Give it a happy hug and imagine tasty gravy.

Standing Rib Roast

Roast beef is one of the many things that I cook purely for husband.  I can't stand the stuff myself, but I have a palate that would confuses the best of them.  For me, to eat meat, it typically has to be ground up, spiced and squished back together.  I'd take a hotdog over a steak any day.  I'm ok with poultry if it's swimming in a healthy pile of hot sauce, but beef...  unless I can make a hamburger out of it...  no thanks.

You might think I have some kind of animal rights thing going on...  I know some people don't like to eat meat that looks like what it was...  (fish with eyes...  whole chickens)  that doesn't bother me, I simply don't like the flavour.  I also don't like 99% of all alcohols, so I'm going to live forever. 

My first tip for making a roast is to get good meat.  A "standing rib roast" is one of the nicest cuts of beef you can get for a roast.  I bought mine at a local grocery store.  It was 5lbs and abou $20.  I know, that's a lot, but when you calculate based on getting something the same at The Keg...  Husband is getting a lot more meat, and enough leftovers to keep him in hot roast beef sandwiches for a week for less than a single meal.  The ambiance may not be the same, but he'll survive. 

First off, stud the beef with garlic.  Hey, everything is better with garlic.  Take a paring knife and stab the meat (close to veins of fat is the best, since the garlc will flavour better there)...

and shove hunks of garlic in as deep as you can.  For this 5lb roast, I used about 6-7 average cloves of garlic, sliced in half.  Stab them in from all directions so you get a somewhat even coverage.

Coat the outside liberally with seasoning salt and black pepper, and stick it in a roasting pan.  (any kind will do).  Get the oven to 350ºF and put the roast in.  We calculated by 20-22 minutes per pound for medium rare, so this one took just under 2 hours.  Get a meat thermometer if you're concerned and go with these internal temperatures

120°F to 125°F, (49°C to 52°C) for rare (Note: 120° is very rare).
130°F to 140°F (55°C to 60°C) for medium rare
145°F to 150°F (63°C to 66°C) for medium
155°F to 165°F (68°C to 74°C) for well done

Unfortunately, now that we're doing the Real Food Experiment, I'm not allowed to use onion soup mix, so the gravy was a little scarce (I also don't have beef stock readily available)  I should probably remedy that for next time.  This roast can easily feed 6-8 people.  We had 2 1/2 eating it, and we have a LOT left over. 
 
Husband was thrilled.  I ate soup.

Overwhelmed

I feel a little negligent...  I've been slacking on my posts.

In the last week I've just felt very overwhelmed.  I feel like I have so much to do that I don't have time for everything, so I just don't do any of it.  There are things I need to do (edit photos from photo shoots I've done), things I should do, (laundry, bake bread, make granola) and things I want to do (work on my blog, make family photo albums and write the next great novel), but I can't seem to do anything. 

Throw a rangy toddler in there, and suddenly everything I need to concentrate to do needs to be done during naptime. 

I know, I'm whining.  And that's ok.  I'm allowed to sometimes. 

I just really need a day or two to purely "ACCOMPLISH".  If I can set my mind to doing things for just one day, I know I'll feel better about everything.  I won't get the things I want to do done in that time, but I will get the things I NEED to do done, and then the balance will shift.  Once laundry is the most important priority, I'll be feeling much better.

Loveys

I was curious about what other moms think about loveys, comfort items, blankies, etc.    When Girl was born I made a somewhat conscious effort to avoid them if possible.  I know that doctors say things like it makes them able to cope with stuff, or offers them comfort, but the vision of Girl dragging around some raggedy blanket, or filthy toy kind of grossed me out.  Not to mention the constant fear of losing the irreplacable item.  I just figured, it would be easier all around if we just skipped that altogether. I never really had a single comfort item that I know of, and I seem fairly able to cope with hardship, so I doubt it will cause permanent harm. 

Girl never seems to mind.  She has a nice rotation of animals in her bed, something new to cuddle with every few nights.  The only constant is her blanket, which she seems fine with leaving in there.  We've gone away, and as long as I bring any one of a variety of stuffed animals, she doesn't seem to have any problem sleeping. 

I don't know, I guess I see having a lovey as kind of like sucking one's thumb.  It's a more acceptable version, since it doesn't require orthodontics, but I always worry it's like a crutch.  I know, I know, kids grow out of it (you hope... I had a friend in her teens that still needed her blankie to sleep) and I just figured if I could avoid the "ok, it's time to take this away" period, all the better. 

I did force a soother on Girl, when she was an infant, but it was gone by the time she was 6 months old (she barely noticed).  I just did that to avoid thumb sucking (which is a lot more difficult to take away). 

Am I a horrible parent?  Should I allow her to have special items, or is a nice well-rounded familiarity of loved toys enough?  Let me clarify, I haven't actually taken away toys I thought were loveys, I've just always rotated, and she has always been happy with that.   I would think it's fine.  She is well adjusted, deals with stress like any other under-2 I've ever known.  I just really don't want her to ever feel dependant on a "thing" for stress relief..  be that, a thumb, a blanket, food, etc.  

We'll see how that works out.

I want this.

So, I'm a sucker for a pretty bottle.  Sue me.

I saw this on Racheal Ray today, and considering all my oils live on the very top shelf of my cupboard (since the bottles are too tall for any lower shelf.)  I think this would be wonderful.

I could keep my oil on the counter and it would look fantastic and always be handy!  Ok, ok, I know that I could use almost any pretty bottle...  but this one is great! (and only 14.95 on her website, for all you loving fans out there!)

I figure anything that saves time in the kitchen is good by me, and since I'm very choosy about what gets prime placement on my countertop, the shape and style is worth the loss in clear counter space.

Hot Sauce

You may be asking yourself...  what sort of recipe could there be for hot sauce?  doesn't it just come out of a bottle.  Why, yes it does.  You can use it straight from the bottle, or you could make it better.  We are hot sauce afficianados over here, so you really might as well.

Start with about a tablespoon of butter.  If you're sitting there staring at the screen in outrage at the added fat, I'd like to shatter your illusions.  In a restaurant, the typical ratio of hot sauce to butter is about 1:1... meaning, half of all the sauce you eat with your deep fried wings is butter.  So, a tablespoon seems pretty good.  It really does help though, you notice a big difference in how the sauce sticks and tastes.  Melt the butter in the microwave.

Add a good squirt of ketchup.  This is where you can decide how hot you want it...  if you like it hot, don't put in too much ketchup, if you like it milder, add more.  I've also had good results with also adding hickory BBQ sauce for a mild sauce. 

Add your hot sauce, and a splash of vinegar (maybe 1 Tbsp).  My mom started doing that, and it makes it really good.   Make as much or as little as you want.  We tend to eat sauce, using our food as conduit, so we made a lot for the two of us.  (Girl hasn't reached buffalo sauce stage yet).

Once it's all in the bowl, nuke it for about a minute or so.  It'll help the ingredients blend together, and warm up the whole lot.  You don't want to put cold sauce on hot wings after all!

Twice Baked Potatoes

Twice baked potatoes are one of those things that, once you get it, are impressive and simple at the same time.  The recipe is so basic that you can do almost anything with them...  switch out the cheeses, add spices, or roasted garlic.  I know it's hard to believe, but I have made miniature versions (using the baby red potatoes) as appetizers.

Stab all your potatoes... a bunch of times.  I almost yelled at the TV once when Paula Deen was on, because she said you were supposed to stab potatoes (just once) so they cook faster.  I'm pretty sure it's so that they don't explode.  I tend to start my potatoes in the microwave, especially since I usually make them with wings, and that way, they don't have to be in the oven much longer than the wings.  You can start them in the oven though if you want.  I do finish them in the oven so they get a nice crunchy peel.  (makes for easier scooping too).  They're usually in the microwave for about 5 minutes, more if they're all big, less if I'm only doing a few.  Then, into the oven for about 15-20 minutes to crisp them up. 

The most difficult part of making these is scooping them out.  Like I said, it does make it a lot easier if they're baked, but I have done them straight out of the microwave too.  Just cup off the top and scoop out the flesh.

Once it's all out, you can mash it, but I love my ricer.  There are never lumps when you make mashed potatoes with a ricer. 

Plus, it reminds me of my Play-doh barbershop.

Once it's all riced, simply stir in some butter, milk (start slow and add, you can always add more, but you can't take it away) and grated cheese. A bit of salt is smart too... especially if you're not going to eat them with copious amounts of hot sauce.

Mix it all together and stuff back into your empty peels.

I usually top with a bit of extra cheese, and then they go into the oven just until the cheese melts through. 

Winging it.

Chicken wings are terrible for you.  I heard somewhere that they are something like 50% fat.  I think that statistic was from a restaurant though, where they would be breaded, deep fried and served with blue cheese dip.  Understandable. I tend to prefer the boneless variety myself, but I do have a deep appreciation for buffalo sauce (let me tell you, if it was off the menu, there would be NO way I'd be doing this), and since wings are an acceptable vehicle for mass hot sauce consumption, I'll do it.

First, take your wings, and coat them in flour and lay them on a cookie sheet.  Putting some parchment paper under them is a smart bet... since it'll drastically improve cleanup. 

Lightly salt them, and pop them into an oven at 425ºF.  A note on salt... I typically skip it because as I said, we use a lot of sauce.  The salt is more important if you have a light hand with the spicy stuff. 

Baking chicken wings is easy.  Because there is so little meat, there is virtually no chance they won't be cooked through before they get a nice brown, crispy crust, so just get them brown and they'll be cooked through. 

Serve with twice baked potatoes and hot sauce.  It's 8 in the morning and this is looking good to me.

Finally finished!

I buckled down and finished "In Defense of Food".  After 150 pages of nutritionism and theory, it finally got to the suggestions for how to eat better.  One thing that I really appreciate about this book is that it doesn't give you "the easy answer".  There is no single evil nutrient (saturated fat... carbohydrates... etc) and no single good nutrient (antioxidants... omega-3... etc).  This book just prompts us to eat real food.  

Here are some of the suggestions in the coles notes version:

1.  Don't eat anything your great-great-grandmother wouldn't recognize as food.  (This means you powdered cheese and yogurt tubes)

2.  Avoid food products containing ingredients that are a) unfamiliar, b) unpronounceable, c) more than 5 in number,  or that include d) high fructore corn syrup (a giveaway that it has been highly processed)

3. Avoid products that make health claims.  ("For a food to make health claims on it's package, it must first have a package, so right off the bat it's more likely to be processed than a whole food.  Generally speaking it is only big food companies that have the wherewithal to secure FDA-approved heath claims for their products and then trumpet them to the world")

4.  Shop the peripheries of the supermarket, stay out of the middle. (Whole foods tend to be around the outside)

5.  Whenever possible, get out of the supermarket (Nice idea if you live somewhere that has produce all year long.  Even our farmer's markets are only open a few months, and I've seen bananas at mine, so I'm pretty sure all the food isn't from nice, local, organic farms)

6.  Be the kind of person who takes supplements.  (This one made me laugh, because he's not promoting supplements.  There have been studies that say that people who take supplements tend to be healthier because they tend to be more aware of their health and willing to spend money to be healthy...  he recommends just being like that, and not bothering to buy supplements.)

7.  Eat meals (no snacking) and do all your eating at a table.

8.  Cook, and if you can, plant a garden.  (Be connected to your food.)

I think the very end of the book stuck with me the most...

"as you cook in your kitchen, you enjoy an omniscience about your food that no amount of supermarket study or label reading can hope to match.  Haven retaken control of the meal from the food scientists and processors, you know exatly what is and is not in it:  There are no questions about high-fructose corn syrup, or ethoxylated diglycerides or partially hydrogenated soy oil, for the simple reason that you didn't ethoxylate or partially hydrogenate anything (Unless that is, you're the kind of cook who starts with a can of Campells cream of mushroom soup, in which care all bets are off).  To reclaim this much control over one's food, to take it back from industry and science, is no small thing; indeed, in our time cooking from scratch and growing any of your own food qualify as subversive acts.

And what these acts subvert is nutritionism: the belief that food is foremost about nutrition and nutrition is so complex that only experts and industry can possibly supply it.  When you're cooking with food as alive as this - these gorgeous and semi-gorgeous fruits and leaves and flesh - you're in no danger of mistaking it for a commodity, for a fuel, or a collection of chemical nutrients...

...The cook in the kitchen preparing a meal from plants and animals at the end of this shortest of food chains has a great many things to worry about, but "health" is simply not one of them, because it is a given"

Overall, I found this book interesting.  There are a lot of things I don't feel I can change (for example, I'm likely not going to start herding my own cows and chickens to keep them on a grass-only diet), but I can make smarter decisions (buying beef or chicken instead of pre-made hamburgers and chicken nuggets).  I'm likely not going to follow everything in this book, but overall it had a decent idea of how we should eat in an ideal world.  Unfortunately the world we live in is not ideal, so we just need to muddle through and make the best decisions we can. 

I like that there was no magic bullet.  I too have been so confused about health and diet and weight, and I've been waiting for the previously contradicted theories to come around at tell me that now, potato chips are good for you.  I feel like I can't remember if I'm supposed to eat eggs now, or not.  Food has become so complicated that I feel a sense of relief about not having to listen to the commercials that tell me which b.regularis I should be eating, or that fruit loops are healthy now because they are made with whole grains. 

I haven't looked at calories in a month.  Very little of what I buy has an ingredient chart on it.  It's liberating.

I do need to work on some things... like eating at a table...  but that will come.  As it is, Girl is plainly too messy to eat on the couch, so that's a change that will be made soon I'm sure.   

Mushroom Barley Risotto

I was flipping through a magazine lately and stumbled on a recipe for barley risotto.  I hadn't even though of doing a risotto with barley before, and though the recipe was completely different, I instantly thought of  mushroom barley soup.  This is odd, since I don't like mushrooms.  I don't think I've ever actually eaten mushroom barley soup, but I could see how people would like it.

Husband likes mushrooms though. 

I also don't like steak, so while he was eating dinner tonight, I ate leftovers.  I don't eat a big chunk of the food I make.  It's weird I know.  Husband doesn't mind being my guinea pig.

Here is the recipe I came up with.

First, fry up some mushrooms in about 1 Tbsp of butter.

I used a 200g package, but it's about 10 good sized mushrooms.  Salt and pepper to taste.

Once the mushrooms are nicely browned, remove from the pan and set aside.  In the same pan, add another tablespoon of butter (let it melt), 1/2 cup of diced onion and 1/2 cup uncooked pearl barley. 

Let this cook for a few minutes, and then you can start adding liquid.  To make a risotto, you need to add liquid lowly, letting each bath absorb into the barley before adding more, while stirring regularly.  It's best to have your liquid (stock) being kept warm in a small pot nearby, you'll need about 3-4 cups.

Once the barley has toasted with the onions, add 1/2 cup red wine, this will also help you deglaze the pan...  all that gunk stuck on there is flavour, get it all up into the liquid.

Once the wine has been absorbed start adding beef stock (really, any stock will do in a pinch).  Add it one ladleful at a time, stirring until it has been completely absorbed.  Risotto requires patience.  Luckily, Husband was covering the steak on the BBQ.  Add salt and pepper and 2 cloves of crushed garlic too.

Once the barley has plumped up and is nice and soft and creamy, add the mushrooms back in for just long enough for the flavours to blend

There you have it.  Dee-lish! (or so I was told... granted, I'm pretty sure Husband didn't say "Dee-lish")

I think I can now make it through the year.

I have a confession to make.  I have never once, in my life, made a brownie from scratch.  I love love love the Betty Crocker Chocolate Chunk mix, and always figured, "why mess with perfection?"

So there I was... brownie-less.  Women should not be brownie-less.

Without any form of reference, other than a mix, I decided to try my hand at making a recipe to suit.  Luckily I was successful (though, I would have eaten all failures).

1 cup flour

1/2 cup cocoa

1 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

1 1/2 cups sugar

2-3 oz semisweet baking chocolate, chopped roughly

1/2 cup vegetable oil

2 eggs

1/2 cup milk

2 tsp vanilla

Mix all the dry ingredients (including chocolate chunks), then add wet ones.  The batter will be quite thick, but try not to overmix.  Pour into a greased 9 inch pan, and spread evenly.  Bake at 350ºF for 30-35 minutes. 

I may not need to buy a mix again.

Girl + Stairs = ?

Girl is now about 20 months old, and she is very proficient on the stairs.  She hasn't had any trouble going up, but it's not going up that I worry about.  You see, she never really got into the habit of going down the stairs backwards, so she goes down on her feet (with one hand on the wall). 

I tend to make a habit of going down backwards a few steps ahead of her, just in case, but sometimes... she's sneaky. 

A few days ago, I went to the washroom and left her watching cartoons.  I came back to find her in the exact same spot, but with a notable difference.  She was now holding the banket from her bed. 

I know that for the most part, she doesn't need help with the stairs, but I also know that she walked into a door frame yesterday because she figured she could see in the dark.  She's a kid, she's clumsy.  It doesn't take much distraction to have a slip on the stairs, but the consequences are much steeper.  

I want Girl to be comfortable using the stairs, especially since her bedroom and ours are on different levels, and she won't be in a crib forever, but I don't know what to do.  I'm all for the "learn from our mistakes"  kind of teaching, but at what point can I decide that she is proficient enough on her own not to come running every time she wants to play in her room?

Back to the hard work.

After a brief hiatus, letting my brain recover from the first six chapters, I have returned to "In Defense of Food" by Michael Pollan. 

There is a lot in the book, that while, is interesting to know, won't really change the way I eat in any kind of substantive way.  However, there are brief excerpts that make me think about what I eat in ways I have never thought before.

This is one:

"Store food is food that is designed to be stored and transported over long distances, and the surest way to make food more stable and less vulnerable to pests is to remove the nutrients from it.  In general, calories are much easier to transport - in the form of refined grain or sugar - than nutrients, which are liable to deteriorate or attract the attention of bacteria, insects and rodents, all keenly interested in nutrients (more so, apparently, than we are).  Price concluded that modern civilization has sacrificed much of it's quality of food in the interests of quantity and shelf life."

I have never considered myself to be the kind of person who ate a lot of processed foods.  I cooked a lot from scratch, though, I did also eat all sorts of other packaged foods.  Reading this makes me wonder if I'll want to go back.  As much as I enjoy pre-made foods, I really wonder what nutrients I'm getting now that I was formerly missing out on. 

Which makes me think about all the people in the grocery store who have carts filled with boxes.