pancakes, pancakes!

A food post! Won't these be lovely?

I am trying to put a little spark back in my cooking life. And how fortunate I am to be friends with Sheryl Julian. I really feel that she gets what I'm asking. I will sometimes, well twice so far, have something I want to make, and will e-mail her. Asking her for the quickest, easiest, and most delicious way to prepare whatever it is I'm asking about. In return, I get an e-mail with easy to read instructions, and neither meal took more than 30 minutes to make, start to finish. I adore her.

So, I feel inspired to try and start adding a weekly recipe post. I will do my best to include one recipe a week that is easy for other moms like me, and that helps involve the kids, sometimes.

One late night with Chris, I was sucked into a show on the food network. It was all about pancakes and how to make the perfect pancake. So I e-mailed Sheryl. Feeling sick of using Bisquick, and thinking there must be a more delicious, easy option. And of course, there was!

Fannie Farmer Pancakes:

1/2 to 3/4 cup milk
2 tbsp. butter, melted
1 egg
1 c. flour
2 tsp. baking powder
2 tbsp. sugar
1/2 tsp. salt

In a bowl, combine 1/2 c. of milk, the melted butter, and egg. With a wooden spoon, stir thoroughly.

Add flour, baking powder, sugar and salt. Stir well.

If the batter seems too thick to pour, add a little more milk, 1 tbsp. at a time. It took me 3 tbsp.
of milk.

Drop small ladles of the batter into a buttered skillet. (NB: the butter makes all the difference in taste) Fry until the undersides are golden and bubbles form on the top. Turn and brown the other side.

Helpful tip: find an oven safe plate and keep your pancakes warm in the oven until you're ready to eat. I put the oven on as low as it would go, and even the very bottom pancake was still hot when we ate it. Also, if you get all the ingredients out ahead of time, it's a great recipe for kids to help with!

stink

So, in light of my latest stink issues with my diapers, I've decided I need to make a change in detergents. I'm trying to test things out, see what works. Luckily, I noticed that The Natural Baby Co. (makers of GroBaby diapers) just came out with their own laundry detergent and are allowing their Facebook fans to try it out for free. I'm really excited, as I've been pleased so far with their diaper.

I'll report back with the skinny once I get to test it!

http://www.thenaturalbabyco.com/tiny-bubbles-p-732.html

scream into the blanket moment

I love the amnesia, we all as mothers experience, after our first child is born. Like, you forget all the post partum stuff. The rock hard boobs, the horrific cramping while breastfeeding, the never ending lochia, the newborn days. And then there is that whole first postpartum year, where your body looks weird, nothing fits right, your boobs run the show, and despite not having your period for however long, you feel it right around the corner, along with all the hormonal bitchiness. And of course, even with a baby that sleeps well, let's be honest, you're exhausted. Two kids, a husband, a house to run, laundry, cooking, cleaning, outtings, tantrums, poopy diapers and spit up.

So, I had a scream into the blanket moment this morning. Leo woke for his usual early feeding at about a quarter to five AM. We snuggled in bed, he nursed, and practically fell asleep. I moved him to his crib, where he proceeded to babble/whine for 2 hours.

Back story? We are totally stressed beyond our limits these days. Nothing seems to be falling into place, and the job market is, simply put, a fucking nightmare. I'm having visions of CVS aprons and weekend hours at a grocery store.

After two hours of the babbling/whining I get up to see if he needs a diaper and wants to nurse. When I approached the crib, I got the usual response which is this totally insane leg kicking thing he does, and a huge smile. How dare he, right?? I felt so fried in that moment, so out of control, I just didn't want him to smile at me when I felt so down. Ridiculous right? I said to him "No! I'm not happy you're awake!" in a stern voice. He cried. I picked him up, he settled, I changed him, tried to nurse him, which he was not having, and then put him in his crib and walked out. He cried for maybe half a second, and I assume has been sleeping since.

Meanwhile, I run downstairs to practically crucify myself. Spill my guts to my baby forum ladies, and sulk. I felt like shit.

I feel all hormonal, and crampy and crabby and annoyed. Frustrated by what life is throwing us. All the while trying really, really hard to believe when people say "this too shall pass" or "look at the positive things in your life" which really are quite abundant. But the negative things seem to be the same negative things that Chris and I have been dealing with our entire, short marriage.


These moments are ok, and normal, whether we remember them or not. They just feel hard, and sad in the moment. Ah well, no one claimed motherhood was easy.

Pie oh Mine

Ok, so that's the name of Tony Soprano's horse. But I literally can not think, or utter, the word pie, without thinking of that horse. So this slice's for you Pie.

Why all the talk about pie? Well, I got a very random invitation, from a very dear friend, who needed help baking some blueberry pies. Sheryl Julian, who can sometimes be caught blogging about food , was doing a piece all about using different fats in pie crusts. This was a far more detailed look at pie making than I ever thought I'd get. And also much harder than I thought! Baking 5 pies in 4 hours proved to be a challenge, and I'll admit, I thought I was going to get my red card when I almost drowned the Blueberry Crostada.

We started by making all the different doughs. One was made with lard, one with oil, one with butter and shortening, and one with Crisco. The crostada, which doesn't count as a pie, was made with all butter, and one egg. The crust that was made with oil, also had cinnamon in the blueberry filling. The rest of the fillings had blueberries (frozen and fresh), lemon juice, instant tapioca, a pinch of salt and butter.



It was so fun to work with Sheryl in her element. When I had asked her the night before what the job would entail, she said I would essentially be like a surgeon's assistant, and she was right. Everything in the kitchen is meticulous. Everything has it's own place and purpose. Except that you find yourself in this incredibly warm and inviting home. A far cry from the cold, sterile operating room.

I stayed for a bit of the photo shoot was interesting in it's own right. The photographer was sweet, I didn't even mind washing dishes with a nice breeze coming in through the window, overlooking Sheryl's beautiful garden. And after my one bite of the crostada, I walked back out into the gloom and rain, daydreaming of nothing but pie. Thankfully, the tasting was the following day.


All 4 of us went to the globe, Chris was home, and Jack was excited to see Nana, and everyone was excited to see Jack and Leo. And the pie discussion was interesting and delicious. Hopefully I'll be lucky enough to partake in some further adventures in food.

And in the spirit of Father's

Dad's get involved!

One of things I love most about my husband is that he totally and completely shares my passion for birth. Most times, when he hears of a c-section, he will relay back to me that it seemed unnecessary, too many interventions, more support was needed, etc. I'm so impressed that he is able to think this way. And to not cower to doctors and allow them to scare him.

Our first birth experience, with Jack, was really dramatically different from Leo's birth. Chris and I were both young and endured throughout my entire labor and delivery, jokes about how we looked like children, and how it was so funny to see two children have a baby. You can't understand how demoralizing this can be while in the process of birth. But it was Chris, with the help of our doula, that made sure none of that noise made it into my space. Quiet whispers, soaking wet in the shower with me, only allowing me to hear over and over how much I was loved and how proud he was.

For how strong I am, and how passionate I am in regards to birth, when it is me in that room, I look to him. I read his face for reactions to what doctor's or midwives or nurses say. I trust him to take care of me, to speak for me, to allow me to totally melt into my own rhythm and not worry about the outside world.

It's actually quite sad, how many fathers I see on those pathetic shows like A Baby Story, who wilt the moment the doctor utters that the woman is not following their schedule. Not laboring fast enough, dilating efficiently, and they just sit there. Nod their heads. And a quiet, timid, this is what's best hunny, I guess, if the doctor says so.

Perhaps I should send Chris out into the world to teach other fathers.


I have two pictures that might be my favorites of Chris in regards to the births of our sons. One is from Jack's birth. I am laying on the table on my back, and Jack is crowning. Chris is up by my head with the biggest smile I have ever seen. He says he was laughing because he was so in awe of me, my abilities, and that he was there to witness it. The other picture is after Leo was born, the moment I scooped him up into my arms. Chris has his arms wrapped around the both of us, tears in his eyes. A birth, he says, more beautiful and perfect than he ever could have imagined. Now who would want to miss out on that??

What the hell happened??

If anyone is curious as to where I've been, let me tell you.

My husband has rejoined the ranks of the working man. Jack wasted no time in telling me that it was strange that Daddy was not there to make him lunch after school, or around in the morning to wipe his ass. I kid you not. I endured a good 20 minute tantrum concerning the fact that it seemed unacceptable that Jack was stuck with me, wiping his ass. May I please add this to the list of shining moments in parenthood?

But in all seriousness, Chris is done with school. He finished on June 3, with amazing grades, and glowing reviews from all his teachers. Unfortunately, with a poor track record, I had little faith in Chris' ability to find a job, which is admittedly sad. One day I stumbled upon a piece of paper, 8x11, that had been folded into a square in his pocket. It was filled with the names of electrical companies. When I inquired about the piece of paper, he said he was carrying it around to remind himself of all the places he had sent his resume/called/attempted to contact. Holy shit, was my husband actually doing all this without any nagging? As it turns out, one of my internet friends happens to have a dad who owns an electrical supply warehouse down on the cape. Long story short, it connected Chris to a job. And we don't even care that he has to work practically in RI.

And just when we thought things could not get any better, a solar company that Chris sent his resume to called him for an interview. The results of said interview, which by the way went better than Chris could have dreamed, are still pending.

This puts me back at full time mom of two. Something I actually hadn't had to do on my own since Leo was born. Wow, it's hard. On my list of things to survive motherhood of two is a coffee maker.

As exciting as all this is, it's hard to make the emotional switch from "constant worry, anxiety and fear" to "cautiously optimistic and, dare I say, happy" I looked at Chris the other day and just said "wow, you're an electrician, I mean, forever" it only took him 25 years to discover something that he likes to do that requires little to no nagging from anyone.

And if not here, then where? I need to be selfish. And say that I feel I've gotten lost in the shuffle a bit. Yes, Chris made a tremendous come-back from the shit storm that was UPS, but I suppose I wish more credit was noted for my constant support, stand by your man shit. Anyone who knows Chris knows that he's pretty much the sweetest, kindest guy you'll ever come across, but to get him to do almost anything, is sometimes comparable to pulling teeth out one's own head.

Alas, we're at the finish line, or I suppose the starting line. Now that Chris is more or less situated in his own profession, I hope it can be time for me to focus more on my own professional life.

And hey, it's not so bad that my husband comes home all sexy and dirty like some big strong construction dude, right?? You better watch out, because when we have our own house, we are going to have killer lighting, perfect for every mood.

Yes, I read The Royal Gazette of Bermuda...so?!

I love finding articles that help explain exactly what a doula is. This makes me want to move to Bermuda!

Doulas Make a Difference