Finding My Way Home

Money Laundering

2011-10-11T22:13:00.000-05:00

Clinkclinkclinkclink.

Pull out clean wet clothes. See something shiny. Fish a dime out of the bottom of the laundry tub.

Stick it in your pocket, go about your cleaning day business. Get incredibly dirty.

Take a long hot shower, after tossing your filthy cleaning clothes in the hamper.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat..........

Me, Myself, and I

2011-09-27T23:31:00.000-05:00

This blog, and everything published on it, is mine. My thoughts, my words. I will occasionally quote things (briefly, with full attribution and a link to the original) or link to things for background material. But that will be clear and transparent. I'm not shilling for anyone.

Also, I don't speak for an organization. The opinions are my own, and don't necessarily represent any organization I may or may not be a part of. And if I'm doing it right, I may well piss off a number of organizations I may or may not be a part of.

Just so you know.

Thinking

2011-08-01T22:03:00.000-05:00

The first thing I think is "Oh CRAP! What's the speed limit here? Am I under it? When did they take those trees down? He's totally hidden that cruiser in there."

The second thing I think is "I need to make sure I tell MilDad about that speed trap since he drives home this way."

The third thing I think is "Duh. Like he's really worried about speed traps when he's driving right now."

And then I try really, really, really hard not to think anymore.

As my hand floats above the publish key....

2011-07-30T11:05:00.002-05:00

When I started this blog, I saw it as a way to get some of the political and analytical stuff out of my brain and onto a page. There was some fun vignettes, but nothing much very personal. I find that is changing.

What I have been writing is, as they say, much closer to home. Some from the joy of the great family I have, some from the challenges of solo parenting and dealing, alone, with the sheer amount of crap that you have to deal with as a military spouse.

I am also no longer publishing a quasi-anonymous blog. I never worked hard to hide my identity, but I also never put this blog out there as me. Only a very small number of people knew this space as mine. Now I am linking here from places that have my identity.

So it is taking me a while to publish. Some because I am thinking hard about the benefit before I publish something with raw emotion. Some because there are organizations that I think need a good strong airing out and some direct sunlight, but providing that puts some of my volunteer work in danger. I need to make sure the needs I fulfill are covered before risking that.

So there will be a couple housekeeping posts. About how this space is me and my opinions and not anyone else's. And about what I will do with comments (spam deleted, pretty much anything else is a go unless it is seriously ugly). And the dates on things might be funky, as I dither about what to post and what to just save.

Bear with me. Thanks for reading. Talk to you soon.

Packing Day

2011-07-22T23:13:00.000-05:00

The bags are out and open. Every clean, horizontal surface is covered. With clothes. With papers. With gear. With stuff.

There are lists. Fifteen of this, ten of that. What to put in which bag. What not to bring.

We ply the littles with movies and snacks. The baby with milk and toys. We are on edge.

You sip a beer, slowly. You won't have another for months.

I look at it all. There will be no boot blackened socks to bleach. No t-shirts to soak the sweat out of. I won't carefully transfer the patches to a clean uniform in order to wash the one you insist you can get one more day out of. How long before I stop bending over to scoop up the pajamas you leave, every morning, next to the hamper? How long before it is real? This empty place in my home, in my heart.

Tomorrow there will be lazy morning coffee. And good food. And wine with dinner. And the beach. And then the next, we will do this. You do this thing that you are called to do. I will be here. Brave. True. Strong.

But not today. Today is packing day.

Today I am undone.

Starting over

2011-04-09T21:27:00.000-05:00

It's been so long. We've been busy here at the home of the Homebody. Bought a fixer upper. Procreated (welcome T-baby, October of 2010). Schooled and unschooled and moved and renovated and prepared to be Home Alone while MilDad is deployed. So much, so fast. It left my words whirling in my head in circles that defied expression. Nothing would come out in coherent form.

But lately, the world has shifted. Not just magnetic north, wandering with the powerful and often tragic shifts in the Earth's crust. But our politics, our communication, our idea of what it means to be a country in the world. And I found that instead of whirling, I was processing. I still am. There are a great many things I want to write about. And I feel the words wanting to come out, instead of whirling away from my fingertips.

How long will it last? I don't know. But I hope to let the words out to play, once again.

2009-12-07T22:36:00.000-06:00

Waxing Philosophical

Recently, on one of my favorite internet groups, a member asked about food philosophies. Below, I share my reply.

My number one, iron clad, absolute belief about food is that there is NOT a number one, iron clad, absolute truth about food. :)

Seriously, we are all different sizes and shapes, do different things, and come from different backgrounds. Culture, philosophy, and faith have a role in what we consume. What works for one person can make another terribly ill. There is no one food (animal products, tofu, wheat, cow dairy, baby vegetables braised in morning dew ambrosia by forest fairies, etc) that is essential for humans to consume. Even breast milk, which *is* essential for most babies to consume, is something a very small fraction of babies with very rare conditions cannot have.

This is my truth:

Mostly fruits and veggies and some good quality animal protein are the basis of a healthy diet. Grains are something that need to be a small portion of a healthy diet. Wheat gluten is poison. The brown food group (coffee, tea, and chocolate) are part of what makes food worth eating and will not be banned without cause. All things in moderation, especially alcohol. Messing up is part of life, learn from your mistakes. Giving in to temptation once in a blue moon is part of life, forgive yourself. Dairy is not essential to life, is not great for any of us, and is poison to the small boy. No matter how much I like cheese. Potato chips should not cross the threshold, and this does NOT mean the whole bag should be consumed in the car. Breastfeeding should continue until the child and/or the Mama is totally done with it. Avoid, as much as possible, eating anything with manufactured chemicals on or in it.

Find your own truth. Enjoy the journey. Don't allow Perfect to prevent and destroy Good. Celebrate the victories. Cook with your friends and your kids. Make a mess in the kitchen.

And now, if you will excuse me, there are some brownies and a Riesling-pear sorbet calling my name...

Grandma's Ginger Snaps, Gluten Free

2009-11-20T22:11:00.000-06:00

In honor of the upcoming holiday season, my favorite cookie recipe. This was the first baking recipe I converted when I said goodbye, forever, to gluten. In part because I love ginger snaps. In larger part because, when you come to terms with drastically changing your life and your diet, you need some connection. I needed to know that the foods that connected me to my past where still, in some manner, accessible to me. And so, my Grandma's ginger snaps were transformed.

I hope you enjoy them, too.

Grandma's Ginger Snaps

3/4 cup shortening
3/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup molasses
1 egg or the flax goo equivalent
2/3 cup white rice flour
2/3 cup tapioca flour
2/3 cup corn starch
1 tsp xanthan gum
2 tsp baking soda
2 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp cloves
2-3 tsp ground ginger
1/2 tsp salt

Blend flour, spices, and xanthan gum. (A whisk works well for this) Cream together sugar and shortening. Add the molasses and the egg or flax goo. Add flour mix. Dough should be fairly stiff, like play dough. If it is soft, add a couple tablespoons more of each type of flour. Chill in fridge.

Heat oven to 375 degrees F. Form dough into 1 inch balls, and roll each in sugar (this is the part where having the kids help is truly hilarious. E just eats them raw the second we turn our back on him) Place on a greased or parchment lined cookie sheet, and bake for 8-10 minutes. Cool on wire rack or a clean towel.

Flax Goo: Mix 1 tbsp flax meal into 1/4 cup hot water. Allow to cool. You'll see why it's called flax goo when it gets to room temp...

Tip: Remove only about a cookie sheet worth of dough from the fridge at a time. This is easiest if the dough is cold, though it is still going to be quite sticky.

Postscript: I am adding this post to the 12 Days of Sharing over at In Jennie's Kitchen. Click on the badge below to help end childhood hunger, and check out the great recipes in the process!

And Something Else Again

2009-08-04T16:24:00.000-05:00

I've been absent for a while.

Those that know me know, and those that read may have guessed: it has been an ugly year.

I won't go into it all, there really is no point. Bad things happened. They were made worse by ugly people, petty jealousies, arrogance, and ignorance. This is the way of things.

But so many others have supported us, this year. Kindness, love, and generosity of spirit have never been absent from our lives, and we had more than enough to get us through the last nine months. We knew we had good families and good friends. All of this has left no doubt exactly who they are.

And we, really, are okay. We had our bad days, and I will be the first to admit that I was not so very much fun. But ultimately, you have to move on. Pull your energy back out of the negative that you used to cope and forge a path into your new normal. Vitriolic screed is a great place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there.

We have a new home, DH has a new job, our kids are happy. Things are different than what we expected, but we will manage.

So much of this was completely avoidable. The rest could have been made easier if more people could just remember the concept of 'There But for the Grace of God Go I.' But that's okay too. Because these sorts of people also tend to forget one other thing.

Karma's a Bitch.

Auld Lang Syne

2009-01-21T18:54:00.000-06:00

So, there are not a whole lot of things I regret in my life. There is almost nothing I regret doing, and only slightly more I regret saying. I mostly live life figuring that risk and the possibility of failure and hurt are WAY better than a safe, but very boring existence.

As such, the regrets I do have are the things I didn't do. And one of my biggest regrets is the fact that I really, really suck and keeping in touch with people. It is not that I don't have good intentions (hello, road paving anyone?). I just either get distracted, or busy, or think, 'oh I will wait until I have a chunk of time to reply to this.' And it slips to the second page of my message book or my email box, and then it was so long ago, and on and on. Events nudged me every so often, trying gently to remind me that really, a 5 minute call or quick note now is better than waiting for that 'when you have time' thing. I would get better for a while, then slip back into my old ways.

And then this past fall, the nudges stop. I get a big karmic kick in the teeth. It is not my story, and I don't want to go on, but suffice to say I lost someone this year. The spouse of a close friend, and because, well, neither of us took the time, I did not even know she was sick until I got the message from my friend that his wife was gone. She had been battling cancer for three years. This time, I got the message.

And here is where the risk, and the failure and the hurt come in. Because I decided it may have been a while, or a LONG while, but I am going to write that note, or send an email, or pick up the phone. And sometimes that hurts, because the note gets tossed, the email unanswered, the call, always, seems to hit the voice mail. I know, folks move on, they forget, they do other things. But, despite being a smart alec, and irreverent, I break pretty easy. Okay, really easy. I think the one that hurt the most was the conversation that ended mid stream, with no explanation. That still stings, a month later.

But there are rewards too. The 3 hour phone call with the friend you really did think you had lost, but that had never actually been lost at all. The note you got from a dear friend, telling you how much you have meant to her, that brings tears to your eyes. The other connections you make, friends of friends of friends, and the happy memories they bring back.

So I will keep putting myself out there, I still have a list of folks, people I have not contacted in a long time, that I am thinking about what to say. I won't wait too long this time. I hope that we reconnect.

And I appreciate even more those that reach back, or never lost touch in the first place because they can put up with or overlook my erratic ways. Thank you.

And those voice mails? The notes and emails? That one conversation, stopped mid-stream? All I can say is, for me, friendship does not have an expiration date. A week, a year, 5 years? If you reach back, and I am where you can reach me, I will answer. And I will do it sooner this time. And know too, old friends, no matter what, you are never, ever forgotten.

Reading is FUNdamental

2009-01-13T20:10:00.000-06:00

I have always been a reader. Family lore has it that I learned somewhere around the ripe old age of three, and have had my nose in a book ever since. While my parents were occasionally (okay, frequently) annoyed at the chores I left undone while engrossed in the latest tome, it was a habit they otherwise encouraged.

So, in order to share my favorite hobby, and let you people know how truly strange I am, I started a list in the sidebar, My Last 10 Books. Now, I often read several things at one time. I stash a book downstairs for evening reading, one in the van for carpool waiting or when I sit in the driveway in the interest of two kids getting a nap, and one in my walk in closet for when I can't sleep, but also can't stray too far from the La Leche Leech, lest he wake the household in indignation that his na-nas have wandered off. So I will add books to the list as I finish them.

Oh, by the way, each book listed is a link to Amazon, as it was the easiest thing I could think of. If anyone has a better idea, I am all ears...

Life is What Happens...

2009-01-13T06:40:00.000-06:00

...when you are making other plans.

In an instant, a day, your life is turned upside down. Everything that was true about the future, isn't. Everything you have been moving toward disappears. A person you don't know makes a decision, and people that don't care shore it up, because to do otherwise would negate all the premises that built the whole thing, and the whole must be preserved, even at the expense of the truth, and your future.

And yet.

You have your health. Your children. Your family. You find out, truly, who your friends are. Life moves forward, and you with it. And you realize this has happened before, more than once. And that, given that we have free will, this will likely happen again, and again, this side of Heaven.

And also, there is Grace. That flip side to free will. I have never, really, believed in the 'God has a plan for you' line, at least not in the way people mean it. I will not justify the poorly thought, the mistake, the selfish, or the pure evil with 'God has a plan.' I believe that God has a PLAN, that PLAN is his Children in Heaven. That is where the Grace comes in. Not only are we saved from our sin, and our free will, by Grace alone. That Grace includes the strength to move forward, the forgiveness when we fail, the Love of a Father.

A week ago the future was ours, the choices all good. Now there may not be any choices. There is a path, which from here looks more like a long, dark tunnel with little hope of light at the end for a very, very long time. But we will walk it, together, hand in hand. We will carry our children, take strength from our friends and family, and believe with all our heart that God is with us.

Two State Solution

2008-11-04T18:15:00.000-06:00

Okay, my fun prediction for the election. PA and VA are the states to watch, as they go, so goes the nation.

If PA goes Obama, and VA goes McCain, it will be a very long night.

If both go Obama, he will win decisively, though there will be some heartburn, probably a loss in FL or OH.

If both go McCain, he will win in a squeaker, following the electoral map laid out by Bush.

If they flip, and PA goes McCain and VA goes Obama, get ready for a very, very crazy week. The election won't be called until tomorrow at the earliest, and may go several days and several rounds in several courts.

Okay folks, so what are your predictions??

Get Thee To Thy Polling Place

2008-11-04T08:19:00.000-06:00

If you have yet to vote, why are you reading my lame little blog??!! Come on, if I could drag my sorry behind out of bed at 0515 this morning and drive to the polls BEFORE finishing my first cup of coffee, you can go and vote.

And the stats: About an hour wait, I got there at 0540, polls opened at 0600, I was done and back in my truck by 0640. Line was long but moving fast, we had 3 candidates and no questions for voting.

Oh, and if you think of it, thank each and every poll worker you have the opportunity to thank. They are a key link in all of this, and got to the polls crazy o-dark-early, so that all of us can exercise our Constitutional right. It is going to be a very long day for these people, and a smile and word of thanks will surely be appreciated.

Bootstrap Hypocrites

2008-10-30T17:23:00.000-05:00

You know, I have heard it my whole life.

(he's just not like us)

Now, my family is not so long removed from falling off the turnip truck. The area I grew up in is full of second and third generation Americans. These folks worked hard for everything they have, and many, especially those from Eastern Europe, faced rampant discrimination when they landed here. Plus, being farmers and coal miners, we were in a small minority. Very few folks understood the realities of our lives.

(we just can't trust him)

Hard work is part of the family narrative for my generation. There was nothing that could stand in our way, we just had to work hard, keep at it, nose to the grindstone, pull yourself up by the bootstraps. Anything is possible. Ignore the folks that think you are stupid because you are rural, and have a funny last name, and grew up on a farm.

(he will take care of his own kind)

For some of us, that is part of the appeal of Barack Obama. Here is a guy that did not have a bunch of advantages. Not so far from falling off the turnip truck. The way he was raised was different than most folks. He has a funny last name. And talent plus determination plus hard work got him into Columbia, and Harvard, and the Senate. Now, maybe even to the Presidency!

(all his appointments will be for THEM)

It's not just that of course. Lots of us have families, and work hard at careers, and are paying off student loans, and juggling what to do with our careers. We see ourselves in the the Obama family, someone who will understand us, work for us, realize that what happens in DC has consequences for us all.

(someone that looks like that is not going to keep his promises)

For most of us, the plans for health care and tax cuts will help too. For the RARE one of us lucky enough to be pulling in a quarter million a year, slightly higher taxes are a small price to pay to get all kids insured, get the country back on track, once again become the envy of the world. Our folks back home do even better under the Obama plan, with lower taxes and the possibility, FINALLY, of decent and affordable healthcare before reaching Medicare age.

(he is just SCARY, and our nation will go to hell with someone like that in the White House)

So the folks back home must be supporting Obama too, right? Right?

Holey (insert explitive here)

2008-08-06T21:56:00.000-05:00

Before we purchased it, our house was built/modified/maintained by crazy rabid squirrels smoking crack. Butt ugly wall paper, over other butt ugly wall paper. Paint colors in the same room that should not exist together in the same zip code. Walls where the framing was WAY more than half a bubble off plumb, as were the framers apparently. Mistakes made and hastily covered up. You get the idea.

We have redone most of the house, and just got finished with a total redo of the bathroom. Now, the contractors were great people, but we don't have the money OR the constitution to have folks in our house to do everything. So we are updating the kitchen ourselves.

Okay, so we stripped the butt ugly wall paper, took down the 6 cabinets that never should have been put up, and we are working on the patching and priming. And we were having a disagreement. See, the CRSSC had put a blank wall plate on the wall behind the stove. We figured it was because the outlet was partially blocked and therefore not usable. So we took it off to get at the wallpaper and found

nothing.

Yup, no wire or anything. Just an empty electrical box. The nearest thing we can figure is that they needed the wire for the above the stove microwave. I wanted to remove it, and patch the hole. The husband said no, it will be hard to get out and it will make a big hole in the wall.

Remember those contractors? Well, they needed to get an electrical box out and patch a hole. So they showed me how. Simple really. You pry the box away from the stud a little bit, then cut the nails. Then you do a bit of fancy cut work with a piece of drywall and voila no more hole in the wall. Easy Peasy.

You do see where this is heading don't you?

Since the hubby is out of town, I figured I would use the time my kids were happily reading books this afternoon to get the box out. Now, the prying part was accomplished by the 6'4" contractor dude with a largish screwdriver. While not wee or wimpy, I was in a tight spot and could not get the leverage so instead, I used a small pry bar. And I did not have the nifty little zip tool to cut the nail, so I used a small hack saw.

It was all going swimmingly. Nails exposed, saw working fine. Got the nail to let go.

Remember that pry bar? Well, thing is, even the small ones are heavy. And it is easy to put a bit too much pressure on the wrong spot. Which, in this case, was the side of the electrical box. Which suddenly found itself not attached to the wall on the bottom. And then found itself outside the wall, unfortunately via a path that took it through a large portion of the previously solid drywall next to the box.

I will let you know if the patching goes any better than the prying...

Ode to Iteration

2008-07-27T21:00:00.001-05:00

I have been thinking a great deal lately about perfect. I hang out online in lots of Mommy dominant groups. I see such a focus on getting everything perfect. It is an obsession, every facet of parenting must be executed with unerring precision, each child must have exactly the right behavior/diet/stuff/activities or the whole thing was a failure.

Take my kids and my food sensitivities. I figured all of the sensitivities out using trial and error. Even if I had much faith left in allopathic medicine, we don't have the classic IgE allergies. Those are the kind you can go get skin pricked for and, barring the all too common false negatives, you get an answer. So I eliminate suspects, then when the reactions go away we trial one thing at a time to see what is causing the problem. Sure, it takes a while. Sure, you do need to be careful if the reaction is a serious one, and take the necessary precautions. But even allergists, good ones anyway, will tell you elimination and trial is the only way to really know the answer.

Maybe it is because I am a scientist, but it amazes me that most people can't do this. I have lost count of the discussion board threads where a parent goes from doctor to doctor with their sick child. Test after test, appointment after appointment. Weeks and months go by. There is great consternation and frustration, and the child is not getting better. All that trouble for nothing, yet when you suggest keeping a food diary, eliminating a few common food allergens, and maybe switching out a few of the chemical cleaners for more natural items, you might as well be a purple Martian. Folks act like you are absolutely out of your mind, because it is way too hard and besides, you can't possibly take away such and such wonderful healthy food without PROOF that it is causing harm! And how can you kill all those horrible germs without the heavy duty toxic cleaning products!

Even in the wonderful food group I am in you see this. Folks obsess over eliminating just the right things. Spend more time planning the elimination diet than the time it takes on the diet to improve things. Or when things improve, even dramatically, they can't see the forest for the trees. Instead of rejoicing that the eliminations fixed the stomach problems and the eczema and the crazy behavior, they constantly tweak and switch things up and go crazy figuring out if they are getting enough of this or that vitamin. Not only do they rob themselves of the enjoyment of all the improvements, they never get the job done because they can't stop tweaking long enough to actually figure out what is going on. They focus so much on the "mistakes" they made in the diet that they lose focus on the goal, a healthy child.

Every aspect of parenting today is like this. Teach kids readin, ritin, and rithmetic. Forget the joy of a good book, the love of penning a kind letter to a friend, the absolutely nifty a-HA! moment of figuring out that four full 1/4 measure cups fill the 1 measure cup exactly to the top. Make the kids behave, instantaneous obedience and aquiesence to the adult. Forget communicating with the child, helping the child make good decisions, and setting the example. Build the resume to get into the right college (or high school, or PREschool!!). Forget following interests, building on strengths, or heck just letting them be kids and build a fort in the back yard.

I don't know all the answers, our family is far from (that word again) perfect. I yell at my kids sometimes. They misbehave. I forget that a certain food is not safe. They don't always pick up their toys. Horror of horrors, we all watch television. We also play, make messes in the kitchen in pursuit of the yummy cookie, take afternoons to hang out by the pool, sit together reading books, and take long walks after dinner in the evening. We let ourselves have fun and enjoy, even when we have not been perfect.

Yup, I admit, I don't know if I am doing this right. But I DO know, with iron clad, 100% certainty what perfect is.

Perfect is the enemy of all that is good.

Babywearing Bonanza!

2008-06-26T16:27:00.000-05:00

While I don't do traditional advertising on this blog, this contest was too good not to pass along. Win FIVE baby carriers! How cool is that? The link will be in my sidebar until the contest winner is announced. There is no purchase necessary. You get one entry for answering a babywearing question, however you want. You can get a second entry by posting a link. That's it!

Oh, and I would be remiss if I did not mention the Babywearing Conference this week in beautiful Chicago! Wish I could be there.

Good luck everyone.

Pop Quiz

2008-06-16T21:33:00.000-05:00

Okay boys and girls, it's time for a little science quiz from everyone's favorite rock and dirt specialist. Put on your thinking cap and sharpen you pencils.

1. Old Faithful is a:
a. Geyser
b. Volcano
c. Strong Cocktail
d. B Movie

2. When Old Faithful erupts, you may get:
a. Blown to bits, along with the rest of Seattle
b. Wet
c. Pregnant
d. Fired

3. A rainbow results from:
a. Precipitation washing dust from the air
b. Lightning electrifying particles in the atmosphere
c. Sunlight passing through water droplets in the atmosphere
d. Leprechauns planting pots of gold

4. Roy G. Biv is
a. A Fun Guy
b. Your ex-Boyfriend
c. A Mnemonic Device
d. A Pneumonic Device

5. A Vulcanologist Studies
a. Tires
b. Trekkies
c. Volcanoes
d. Pretty Co-eds

Extra Credit: Pronounce the word Butte correctly.

Okay, so how did you do? And why do I ask? You KNOW there is a back story to this one.

Well, when we went out to dinner the other night, a family was sitting next to us. A college senior had his parents and a young lady friend giggling in horror at his classmates. Apparently, he needed a communications class to graduate, and the only one available was on communicating science to non-scientists. Much of the class had difficulty with the concepts they were trying to communicate, and two women were truly clueless. They spent a good portion of one class arguing with the instructor about Old Faithful. Both swore repeatedly that 'If it erupts again, it is going to take half of Seattle with it!!'

Oh, and the class this young man took to fill out his requirements was offered by his University's College of Education. His classmates were education majors, studying to be middle school science teachers.

Homeschool. I am going to Homeschool...

Cruisin'

2008-05-18T20:34:00.000-05:00

There I was, zipping on down the parkway, headed for a night out with the gal pals. Leather seat perfectly adjusted, leather wrapped wheel in my hands. The sun roof was open, the sky was blue, and Mr. J. Geils and his band were pontificating about love (it STINKS) on the XM radio. This, my friends, was a MOMENT, in the nicest car I have ever owned.

Never mind that everyone was staring at that crazy lady singing to herself in the minivan...

Sporting

2008-05-01T20:11:00.000-05:00

This story speaks for itself. Bring the tissues.

What Price Asparagus?

2008-04-27T20:04:00.000-05:00

The farmer's market opened the first weekend in April. The pickings were slim the first few weeks, mostly baked goods (verboten in our gluten free house), the popcorn people (kettle corn, YUCK), the crazy religious freak sorbet guy (don't ask), and a bunch of plants ($3.50 for a basil plant, yeah, uh, NOT).

Today, however, there was FOOD. Glorious food. The strawberries had just started to come in, and my favorite farmer had them. Bringing home strawberries in our house is a sure way to have our kids attached to the table for most of the day. H-4 can eat a quart in a sitting, E-1 nibbles steadily away as well. In fact, making it to the table is often the first challenge. They stand to either side of me at the sink, heads upturned and mouths agape, while I pop the first dozen or so I wash and hull directly into their mouths like a mama bird with her nestlings. H-4 bounced around the kitchen for 5 minutes yelling YIPPEE!! when she discovered those two quart baskets in my bag.

Not so thrilling for them was my prize, 2 bunches of asparagus. Stalks begging to be rinsed, snapped, and slid into a wok with some good olive oil and a handful of chopped shallots. The ones I did not devour raw, that is. Oh, wonderful asparagus.

Now, I don't know how much you know about growing asparagus. It takes years to establish a bed. The first year you need to let the thing grow wild in a protected place. After that, you move it to where you want it, and let it establish itself for a couple more years, with maybe a stolen stalk or two. It is only in the fourth season that you can really start to harvest. HMMMMM, military husband. Guess how many times in my adult life I have lived somewhere long enough to have an asparagus bed. Exactly.

This, then, is not only one of my favorite vegetables. It is everything, however wonderful the Nomadic military family existence is, that I simply cannot have in my life. Heavy furniture, constant neighbors, a house that is decorated and enjoyed for a few years, a high school reunion invite sent to the same address twice in a row. Someday, with an asparagus bed to call my own.

When was the last time 4 dollars bought all that?

Mouths of Babes: 2008.03.21

2008-03-26T20:48:00.000-05:00

"Grandma, Grandpa was being irrelevant while you were at work!"

Stated by H-4 to Grandma when she got home from teaching. Grandpa was actually being irreverent. Seems to run in the family.

Nifty NOVA Car Buying Tips

2008-03-12T21:27:00.000-05:00

AKA how to buy a car without paying too much or losing your soul.

1. FIGURE OUT WHAT YOU WANT. I don't know you, don't ask ME what you want! But you should ask your friends, family, those folks in the parking lot.

2. DRIVE, DRIVE, DRIVE. Test drive anything you are considering. Take some time. Test drive again. If you can POSSIBLY afford it, rent one for a weekend. (At least one rental car company probably has what you want, and you will likely get your request if you rent on a non-holiday weekend.) When you pick a brand, figure out what features are important to you. Some brands have loads of options, others you pick a trim level and that's that. You need to know this for...

3. USE THE INTERNET, PART ONE. Educate the heck out of yourself. Dealer holdbacks, manufacturer's incentives, special programs. There are all sorts of tricks to make that 'dealer invoice' number THOUSANDS more than what the dealer actually paid. You will never actually find that, even Consumer Reports and Edmonds.com way overestimate how much you should pay for the car. But you can get an idea. You also need to know exactly what the manufacturer offers, and what the dealer is putting together on their own to jack the price up.

4. SET THE TONE. This is a HIGHLY competitive market. And dealers are hurting. No one is buying right now, so you are figuratively and literally in the driver's seat. I am not talking about being cutthroat. They deserve to make a living just like anyone else. But YOU deserve a fair price on a car, and any dealership that will play games, add mandatory 'appearance package' items to all its cars, or refuses to give you a straight number is not someone you need to waste your time with.

5. USE THE INTERNET, PART TWO. When you know what you want, exactly, start emailing dealerships. Ask for a quote. You want a DETAILED quote, including all taxes, fees, the base price, delivery charge, and what the 'out the door' price will be. Lots of places will give you a 'base price' that is crazy low. But then they add a jacked up appearance package, several other services and fees, and other things to drive your bottom line price up. Keep track of all the prices, I used a spreadsheet but a notebook or anything you can keep everyone straight in is fine. When you get a good price, send out a message of 'hey, I got this, can you beat that?' Be polite, respectful, and businesslike at all times. Even when you are dealing with total jokers, and trust me you will be at some of these places. Keep going back and forth until you get a good price from several dealerships that you would actually be willing to walk into.

6a. CLOSE THE DEAL, BUT ... Go to your number one choice, with an appointment with a real live person who knows exactly what you want and exactly what you have agreed to pay for it. If you need financing, you should be pre-approved with your own financial institution. Credit unions are great. The dealership will likely have a better interest rate, but if you have the money already available it forces them to 'do better' if they want your business. And you are not stuck just accepting whatever interest rate they feel like offering you. They WILL charge you whatever they think they can get away with. Do a test drive of the actual car, and then sit down with all the paperwork and make sure everything is to your liking, which leads to...

6b. BE PREPARED TO WALK. If they add extras, bait and switch, put fishy stuff in the fine print, you get up, shake their hands, thank them for their time, and walk away. PSYCH yourself up for this possibility. You buy a car once every few years, they sell them day in and day out. They are pros, and if you get a slimey one you may feel trapped into buying something. You can always walk away. And you should if they do not treat you with respect. That is what makes the internet so wonderful. If you DO walk away, you have two or three other places in your back pocket to go to. All you have lost is a couple hours of your time.

7. TALK TRADE IN. Now??!! Yes, now. This assumes you are getting rid of a car. You don't want to talk trade until the very end, otherwise it will be rolled into everything and you will never really know what you paid for the new one and what you got for the old one. Also, always remember that you are going to get more if you sell it yourself most of the time. There are good reasons not to bother, but you need to figure out what is most important in your situation and go from there.

Happy Shopping!

Discovery of the Day

2008-02-08T19:17:00.000-06:00

The heating element in an electric stove, switching on at PRECISELY the correct time, is hot enough to ignite the alcohol vapor in the oven that evaporated from the baked salmon in dry sherry dish you were making.

Maybe I should have covered it with foil...

The Cobbler's Children Have No Shoes

2008-02-01T20:21:00.000-06:00

You know how it is. Whatever you do for a living, you are so sick of it when you get home you don't want to be bothered.

Everyone in the family had high speed internet before us. Now part of that was because we lived on a military base that did not offer it, but it was mostly because we did not care to use the computer at home much, after using it all day at work. We finally got it after H was born. Entertainment of any kind close to home had a higher value when we had a little one.

We do all our banking online, and most of our shopping. But we put off getting that second computer, a laptop, for ages and ages. We got it for our Christmas present in 2005. Okay, that was what it was designated as. We actually GOT the thing in the fall of 2007. It is quite modern, a step up from our desktop, which is from 2003 and a bit dated. It also crashed, hard, which finally convinced the reluctant party that really, we need a back up.

I think, finally though, we have been officially dragged kicking and screaming into the modern computing era. We said goodbye to our Sony Trinitron CRT Monitor. It was hard. That monitor has been with us through 3 computers, 4 states, and 5 moves. But really, it was time to upgrade to a flat panel.

Of course, let's be honest here. The biggest reason we upgraded was because the picture was going. Anything on a dark background, like say, oh, my blog, would shake uncontrollably. Even THAT would not have convinced my husband, except for the fact that the same thing happened to the ESPN website.

Open

2008-01-29T20:17:00.000-06:00

I have been an independent since before it was cool. I am a PA Republican at heart (the Tom Ridge sort, not that weirdo Rick Santorum). But there is no place in either party for me at the national level, and since we move so much I just don't bother with the vast wasteland that party politics has become. Most of the time none of the candidates is worth anything anyway, so I don't miss much by not voting in the primaries.

This past weekend, DH asked a rhetorical question: So, if you could vote for any one candidate regardless of party, who would it be? I had to think long and hard. See, I like two of them. One I feel would be better for moving us forward into the brave new world. The other I think would be better for keeping us safe, actually KEEPING us safe and not making a bunch of sound and fury and at the end of the day the only folks better off are the multinational corporations in the military industrial complex. We talked a great deal about it. Debating the merits of this or that one. Talking about how ads and emails are full of half truths and bad analogies. I finally picked one, but again it was all rhetorical. I joked I might have a hard time come November if these two somehow made it to the top of the heap for their respective parties.

Turns out, I won't have to wait until November.

See, Virginia has what is known as an "open" primary. You don't register your party, you just go in and ask for the specific ballot you want. Wow. Just Wow. So what am I supposed to do?

There is something different about this election. Do you feel it? It is like it really really MATTERS this time. Like we have a great choice to make here, how are we going to go forward as a country, as a people, as citizens in the greater world. And for once, just once in my memory, we actually have a chance for a real choice. We have the chance to put a decent, hardworking, WORTHY candidate atop the ballot in BOTH parties.

So in two weeks, I will vote for the one that needs my vote more here in VA.

Still don't know what I will do in November...........

Theocracy of Hate

2008-01-03T19:24:00.000-06:00

One of my favorite bloggers is Rebecca of Random Musings. While our worldviews, religious convictions, and families look a great deal different, I find much there I agree with (like, you know, coffee) and everything is worth reading.

The last week or so is no exception. Rebecca has posted a thought provoking and thoroughly disturbing series on kinism. If you are not familiar with this incredibly dark and ugly sect within the evangelical community, I urge you to head on over and take a look.

Much of what is wrong with the world today is not how different we are. It is how, because of our differences, we have forgotten that the 'other' is a PERSON, fully and wholly a human being. How else can we explain the blatant disregard for life, for liberty, heck, just for basic COURTESY when dealing with one another.

Why have we forgotten: And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is LOVE...

What Hits The Fan

2007-12-14T18:45:00.000-06:00

H-3: FEE FI FO FUM! I smell the blood of an Englishman!
Me: You do? Really?
H-3: No, actually, I think it's just a poopy diaper.

What is it about poo? Why is it so funny? So fascinating? So discussable in public situations? The other night we are walking around one of those stores that you need a card to get into and a freight truck to get out of. I needed some baking sugar, and purchased it in the smallest bag they had, ten pounds.

H-3: Mama, what is that?
Me: It's a sack of sugar.
H-3: NO! Silly Mommy!
Me: Really, it is.
Daddy: I think it is a sack of sucre!
H-3: No, silly Daddy! It's a sack of.............POO POO! (insert two children giggling madly).

I suppose I should be grateful she does not know the other word yet.

Her brother is no better. Sometimes we let him hang out in a pair of cotton trainers, since he is prone to rashes. A couple months ago my downstairs stack ran out, so I had to run upstairs to get more. I grabbed a pencil, my engineer's rule, and some green engineering paper (LOVE that stuff) while I was upstairs since I was plotting out how much it would be to replace our deck surface. I knew where all that was. That is ALL I did upstairs.

Unfortunately, I forgot that time moves at different speeds in different levels of the house when you leave you not mobile baby on a different level. Nakey butt. Have I mentioned that poo is really facinating? Have I mentioned that what E-1 lacks in verbal precociousness he more than makes up for in determination and creativity? Had it been finger paint on paper, it would have been an impressive bit of art work for a 6 month old.

Please tell me that at least girls grow out of this.

Three Boxes

2007-12-03T19:56:00.000-06:00

I got an copy of this blog post in an email the other day. I have no doubt I will receive it again. And again and again and again. Now, I disagree with a great deal of what Sgt. Jeffers said. I don't think it is unpatriotic to disagree with a particular President, to think a war is a mistake, to report on the bad as well as the good. However, one thing I agree strongly with is that a whole bunch of folks in this country give a bunch of lip service to 'support the troops' and do exactly two things to support the troops: Jack and Shit.

The true irony of Sgt. Jeffers' words is this, people are doing EXACTLY what he so despised. Instead of actually doing something concrete, they are mindlessly forwarding his words in spammy email with titles like 'This says it ALL' and 'The last words of a great soldier.' Give me a break, okay? Do you have any idea how LAME you are when you read this, forward it to all your friends with a little 'wow, this is really deep,' then get on up and pour yourself another cup of coffee? Folks, this man DIED for our country. The least you can do is honor his wishes. I am not telling you to go out and do x, y, and z for 'the troops.' It is up to you if you want to support a friend or neighbor overseas this holiday, or help out a family here at home missing that loved one. I am saying if you do something, actually DO something that will make a difference.

There are three boxes sitting here in our office/sewing room/guest room. Three folks we know well, overseas. The neighbor we like, despite his being a FSU Seminole. The (nearly) shortest dude ever to wear a flight suit. The desk jockey one day, on the ground in the thick of it the next friend that will miss his first child's first everythings in the next few months. The boxes are open, and I am sending them to arrive in the doldrums of after-holiday January. I keep pitching stuff in, wondering just how much I can STUFF into the things, thinking about what I can and cannot send over. Thinking of these brave men, and all the brave men and women who are far away tonight.

Sometime soon, three gifts will journey afar. They will journey to the land where, 2000 years ago, three other gifts arrived in celebration. My gifts will be far more humble, and the recipients merely human beings. I hope that my gifts will in a small way honor these men and the season.

And I pray for peace on Earth.

Name That Tune

2007-12-01T19:19:00.000-06:00

Irreverence is a fact of life here. So is singing. This leads to some interesting musical moments. Our making dinner song, for example, is this little number from the first season of the Muppet Show. It has also become our veggie aisle song in the grocery store, which is a story for another time.

Songs that are fairly standard kid friendly bits are never left alone. Now, just so you know, *I* don't go ruining any of the classics. That is my husband's job. My daughter is completely convinced that the one about the rodent running up and down a large timepiece ends not with 'Hickory Dickory Dock' but with 'IntoTheMouthOfTheCat.'

Yeah, I am still waiting for the call from preschool on that one.

One thing I will admit to is changing the words to the songs from middle school. You know, those songs you did not let your teacher or parents hear you singing. I know it is not my best parenting moment, but hey, what else ya gonna do when your sweetie, a dedicated streaker, has fallen so in love with her new jammies that she wants to wear them to the playground. And so, without further ado, our version of 'Bedtime Hymn of the Republic.'

Oh I wear my shorts and T-shirt in the summer when it's hot.
And I wear my pink pa-jammies in the winter when it's not.
And sometimes in the spring, and sometimes in the fall,
I slip between the sheets with nothing on at all.

Running Commentary

2007-10-21T19:44:00.000-05:00

H-3 loves to go to Trader Joe's. Balloons, stickers, friendly staff in cool shirts, food samples, and now they even have kid sized carts.

Yes, it takes longer, but both she and E-1 are greatly amused by H-3 having her own little cart. And the whole fact that she is a bit independent leads to some wonderful conversations. But it also leads to distraction, and I need to redirect and keep her on track.

We are pretty irreverent with our kids. (I know you are shocked by this.) So as I was following her down the frozen food aisle I informed her, 'H, you need to walk a little faster to the end of the aisle. And when you get there, pull up your pants. You are not a 15 year old boy.'

Laughter. Loud, hysterical laughter. I turn to the left and, right next to me, is a 15 year old boy. With his pants around his hips. He was not laughing, though to his credit he did smile at the situation. Now his Mom, SHE was nearly hyperventilating.

Yup, H-3 sampled the chicken tortilla, while I pried the Birkenstock sandwich out of my mouth.

200

2007-10-04T21:05:00.000-05:00

I suck at pumping, and not in a good way. Give me a baby, or two, or three. I can NURSE the friggin block. Pumping, not so much.

The thing is though, I believe in breast milk. Every baby, with rare medical exceptions, is made to be fed human milk. Sometimes, because of surgery or illness or really bad luck, Mom just cannot provide it. So I did something insane, something no reasonable woman with my relation to a pump would do. I decided to donate to a milk bank.

Now, I knew I could do it. I worked when my daughter was young, and she never had a drop of formula. I had to pump 3 and 4 times a day for 2 bottles. I went to nurse her at lunch so I had one less bottle to produce. I got up every day, EVERY day, at 5 in the morning to pump for months on end so I would have a bit of a fall back. I knew just a few ounces a week would add up, and I knew what they needed to add up to: 200.

Why 200? I never considered donating to any bank that was not a member of the Human Milk Banking Association of North America, or HMBANA for short. There are other "banks" out there. Many are associated with a company that sells human milk at a profit, and does research in an attempt to patent components and make large sums of money. HMBANA banks are different. While human milk is expensive even from a HMBANA bank, the expense does not even cover the cost of testing Moms and processing milk. And if your critically ill baby needs milk and they have it, the baby gets it, even if you can't pay for it. There was no way I was going to DONATE milk to a for profit company to make money off of, when I could donate to a non profit organization that would utilize my milk in the best way possible. But to do that, I needed to get at least 200 ounces together. Any less, and it is just too expensive for the bank to ship, and to do all the testing required on the Mom to make sure the milk is safe to use.

So I pumped, and pumped, and pumped some more. I pumped once every single day. Some days I got 4 ounces, there were not many of those. On days when the only time I could pump was at night after nursing E-1 to sleep, I got an ounce. Usually I got three ounces. I started a bit late, because of the allergy issues E-1 had, and the fact that the first bank I contacted closed unexpectedly and suddenly. I also did not realize many banks take milk pumped prior to contacting the bank. I did not save anything before getting in contact, since E-1 wanted nothing to do with milk unless it was straight from the source. Some days I wondered if I would make it.

And then, I did. About a month ago, I went over. I stopped counting ounces when I pumped, and I got my blood drawn and all the final paperwork approved. Two days after E-1's birthday, a big blue cooler landed on my doorstep.

Tonight, somewhere between here and North Carolina, that blue cooler is 2/3 full of my frozen milk and sitting on a FedEx plane. I hope one day my children will be proud that despite the difficulty in doing the right thing, Mama is someone who puts her money where her mouth is.

Or in this case, where their mouths were...

One Year

2007-10-01T19:38:00.000-05:00

A year ago today, not far from where I sit, my darling baby boy was born. I cannot believe a year has passed, and E-baby is baby no more.

Happy birthday, E-1.

Cuppa GI Joe

2007-09-28T19:19:00.000-05:00

I am writing this to ask you (all what, seven of you) for a favor.

Now, I don't know what you think about the wars we are in. Heck, half the time I wonder if I know what I think about what we've gotten ourselves tangled up in. One thing I do know, there are lots of really great people over 'there' doing what the powers that be have told them needs doing. Even if you exclude the whole fact that you are getting SHOT AT, BOMBED, and otherwise endangered, life there often sucks.

You are away from your family for months. The weather is lousy. There is no sex. There is no beer. And the coffee tastes like . . .

Um, well, yeah, uh, let's just say the coffee tastes bad. And you can't do much about about most of that, but you CAN do something about the coffee. You don't need to go to the store, the post office, or get yourself tangled in that packing tape stuff. There are all these wonderful coffee companies, many of them micro roasters, who are happy to send your coffee donation to the troops. They vary in how they work, how much they charge, whether or not they match the donation, things like that. I have listed a few, I am sure you can find more, perhaps even someone local to you.

So raise a mug in salute to their service, and if you can, help them raise a mug too.

-A

Coffee Donations To The Troops:

Boca Java will match your coffee donation pound for pound. (this is who I use)
Island Joe's won't win any web design awards, but their award winning coffee can be donated.
Maxey Coffee Company will send your coffee donation to a service member and a buck to AnySoldier.com.
Dunkin Donuts holds a monthly drawing, 50 winners a month receive a case of coffee. FREE!

Off The Beaten Path

2007-09-11T19:58:00.000-05:00

It is a bit hard to get to, though you can see it easily from the 395. The folks building roads in the DC area love to make you change lanes, and you need to drift right, and right, and right again across about a zillion lanes of traffic. The signs are barely there, they could not be more than a couple feet square and a couple dozen yards before the road you need to take.

But finally, there you are. The US Air Force Memorial. Situated on a bit of land next to the Navy Annex, its spires rise out of the ground and soar skyward. As you walk the grounds, the quiet of the place seeps into you, despite being surrounded by asphalt and traffic.

The quiet is deeper than immediately apparent. As you stand under the spires and look to the distant Washington DC skyline, a large flag comes into view. It is then that you realize that here, 6 years ago, a plane taken over by evil in human form flew over. Low enough to see and hear far too much, it crashed moments later into the side of the Pentagon.

On that day, people stood in parking lots, sat in cars stuck in the traffic, jogged along paths and sidewalks, and in a moment were forever changed by their witnessing of history. Many still hear the plane in their dreams.

On that day, it was hitting or missing the traffic. A TDY. A transfer to a job a month before. Stopping for coffee on the way into work. A newly reinforced building section, offices miraculously empty because so many had yet to move in. All that stood between life and death on that day was a moment, a split second decision.

On that day, there was no rank. Military and civilian from the very top of the ranks to the very bottom dug in the rubble, and listened to the firefighters, and prayed.

Never forget.

Gentle Readers

2007-07-23T20:04:00.000-05:00

So I am thinking about installing one of those counter things. I must be way more popular than I thought, because apparently both The Pope and folks at TSA read my little blog.

Okay, so I am kidding. Seriously though, the TSA news is fabulous. It is about time they stopped being such boobs about breastmilk...

(If you are new, and intimidated by my HUGE number of previous posts, Here and Here are the ones I am referring to.)

The Longest Day...

2007-07-13T14:04:00.000-05:00

...so far, ever, is the 24 hours the Poison Control Center said to 'just monitor him closely.'

We had recently arrived at our hotel room after a longish drive to a beach vacation. I had half a headache, and opening the door to the overpowering smell of cleaning solutions and air freshener tipped me directly into migraine country. After starting the process of airing out the room a bit, scouting out the usual hazards (electrical cords, outlets, trash bags) and getting settled, H-3 asked if she could have one of the candies left on the night stand. We said okay, and she opened it and popped it in her mouth. Somehow, even though she was just sitting there while she ate it, she managed to swallow it whole. She was fine, scared and her throat hurt, but fine.

She and Daddy headed for the front desk for a restaurant recommendation, I lay on the bed and put E-baby on the floor where I could see him with stuff to play with. My head was pounding so bad that standing upright just was not possible at that point. He crawled along the base of the bed and out of my sight, and I expected him to emerge on the other side. He paused for a minute, then started crying and making weird noises. I rolled over to the edge and noticed something on his shirt, I thought it was a button.

It was a tablet. Wet and slightly dissolved, he had obviously stuck it in his mouth then spit it out when the nasty taste hit. So instead of dinner recommendations we got directions to the nearest ER. We did not end up actually going, we called Poison Control on the way and they recommended monitoring him.

He's fine, I have laid off myself a little with the Mommy guilt, and we ended up having a pretty decent little trip. And a new number on our speed dial.

Bad Medicine

2007-05-22T13:06:00.000-05:00

Maybe half a dozen docs in my area will clip a tight frenulum on a baby's tongue to solve nursing problems. Fewer than that will even CONSIDER doing it for tight frenulums on the lips, and then only if the baby is under general anesthesia. You want to find a doc to cut off the end of your infant son's penis? No problem. So my intact son has a not so great latch. I imagine his lips will get fixed the way his sister's did, falling.

My son's original pediatricians were happy to prescribe Zantac and other acid suppressing meds for E-baby's reflux. The response to doing what actually helped, getting food allergens out of my diet, was 'well, if you really think it helps, but you might not make enough milk on such a limited diet.' Um, hello, have you looked at my 18 pound, 4 month old, finally stopped spitting up baby?

My daughter's OB needed an episiotomy to deliver all less than 7 pounds of her. My midwife helped easy my nearly 9 pound son into the world with barely a scratch. That was just the tip of the iceberg in the differences in birthing my darling children. But people think I am brave, crazy, or both for giving birth to my son at home.

Sigh.

Before and After

2007-05-14T12:59:00.000-05:00

Before Kids:

Find cool brownie recipe online. Print it out. Preheat oven. Mix together brownies. Place in oven. Throw together crock pot chili recipe while brownies are cooking. Retrieve brownies from oven a few minutes after chili is cooking away in the crockpot. Go on with the day.

After Kids:

Find cool brownie recipe online. Print it out. Pop in video for toddler, nurse baby. Take shower and get dressed, because baby is asleep and toddler is busy and this will be your one and only chance. Melt chocolate, change baby diaper, put baby on back in an Ergo because he is fussing. Defrost burger you forgot to put out the night before due to lack of sleep. Tell toddler yes she can play with water if she stays on the porch near the door. Put baby in doorway because toddler makes him laugh. Preheat oven, mix together rest of brownies, put in oven. Start burger browning. Check on toddler. Turn off stove under burger. Take off toddler's clothing on porch, spray her off with the hose since she interpreted 'you can play with water' as 'you can mix the water with your ultra bright sidewalk chalk and then body paint with it.' Take toddler in house, tell her to stand on wood floor while you go get washcloth and clean clothes. Get washcloth and clean clothes. Retrieve toddler from carpet, clean her up and have her put on new clothes. Clean carpet with mini steamer. While you have it out, clean the spot from the accident she had 4 days ago that your husband did not clean up and did not tell you about until last night. Retrieve brownies from oven. Brown burger, throw in crock pot. Add tomatoes and spices. Make toddler lunch. Chop onion. Saute onion with right hand, with your back facing the stove. Hold baby in left arm and nurse him again. Add onions to crock pot and turn on. Find lid to crock pot. Convince baby to let go of nipple so you can reach crock pot lid without causing bodily injury. Put lid on crock pot. Go on with the day.

Here's Your Sign

2007-04-26T13:06:00.000-05:00

I wait patiently for someone to back out of a parking space in a small lot. Helps us both, I stop traffic for her and she provides me with a spot. As she clears the space, enter that familiar villain into the parking lot. Lady driving alone in a monster Suburban, cell phone glued to ear. She quickly sizes up the situation and hits the gas, aggressively rocketing part way into the parking space and stopping. The woman backing out, instead of pulling forward and out of the lot, now must back up in a tight space to have the room to leave and give Little Miss Entitlement room to pull the rest of the way in. I either have to wait for another spot to open up or walk across a busy through way with two small children.

The vanity plate on the Suburban: 4JESUS.

I am about to merge into the circular on/off ramp from the highway, and a truck comes around on the on ramp part. Seeing me with my turn signal on, he ignores the huge space behind me and guns the engine in order to pull out onto the highway in front of me. He barely makes it, even though I see his aggressive bordering on crazy driving and do my best to keep out of his way.

His tailgate is festooned with a school of fish. Yeah, those fish.

Aggressive, nasty, rude, and careless drivers abound in these parts. But if something makes you stick out, if your car is unique in some way, your rudeness will be noted and remembered long after. Super expensive car? People will comment you must think you own the road too. Beater car? People will assume your lack of finances indicate a lack in other areas. When you stand out, your actions, particularly the negative ones, speak more loudly still. And people will attribute the bad behavior to whatever it is you are already standing out for.

Come on folks. When you do these things, you give Christians a bad name. Sanctimonious jerks talking the talk (loudly) but not walking the walk. Why should anyone believe your Sunday if you aren't living it Monday through Saturday? So do us a favor and at least PRETEND to care about your fellow drivers here.

Or take that stuff off your car.

What a Bunch of Clowns

2007-04-17T14:06:00.000-05:00

You know, I am trying HARD not to just let loose here. So I'm going to be brief. It seems that Ronald McDonald House in Houston, TX has asked a mom to nurse her baby in her room. Her sick baby. Her baby that is recovering from BRAIN SURGERY. Up three flights of stairs. Every. Time. He. Needs. To. Nurse. Or else she can find somewhere else to stay. Ever had a sick nursling? Do you have any idea how many times they need to nurse? Egads.

I am too saddened by all this to even be coherent on the subject. And plenty of folks have already said it better. So go check out The Lactivist for the skinny on the current situation, and The Reluctant Lactivist for some detailed info on what YOU can do about this, including a great sample letter in the comments section.

Then write a letter or three.

Food Poisoning

2007-02-28T18:38:00.000-06:00

No, not that kind. The allergic-to-this-or-that food kind. Now, food allergies have always been a part of this family. Everyone has something. But they were all minor and avoidable thing, like oranges or cashews. Nothing that encroached on everyday life.

And then came E-Baby. Milk. Maybe Eggs. Who knows what else. All delivered to him through my milk. In the process of figuring this out, I have eliminated a bunch of things from my diet: Wheat, soy, corn, eggs, dairy, shellfish, peanuts, tree nuts, oranges. He finally seemed to clear up completely after about 4 weeks. Testing has NOT gone well. I tested eggs first, thinking that was not it. Well, I think now I was wrong. Poor boy is just clearing his system a week later.

What causes food allergies? Is better medical care preventing children that would have died from this in the past alive? Is our increasingly poisoned earth making our bodies more reactive to everything? Is the practice of feeding the majority of (American) infants with artificial baby milk making us sick? Is it vaccines, antibiotics, sedentary lifestyles? Or has this always been, and we are just now at a point in human history that we can stop asking 'how much food' and we can start asking 'which food'?

We are testing wheat this weekend. Wish me luck. DH is Catholic...

ICK, Breastmilk!

2007-02-24T19:52:00.000-06:00

Okay, so does anyone have a shovel? Because, you see, I need something to scrape my jaw back off the floor. Seems that in Columbus, Ohio, the Buckeyes are not the only complete NUTS.

If you are a breastfeeding Mom looking for day care in Ohio, don't bother looking at City Kids. Your milk is not welcome. Biohazard, don't you know. I mean, they will take it, grudgingly, if you pay an extra 50 bucks a week. Unless they are not taking it at all. I guess it depends on the month.

Good heavens, I wonder what they would have thought of me. H-3 , with her many suspected food allergies, took my milk to day care with her until 16 months of age when we moved and I decided to stay home. I nursed her nearly every day at lunch too. I had asked if nursing or bringing breastmilk would be a problem after a year. They said no problem, several children had brought breastmilk with them past infancy. At least one had continued until he left the center to attend kindergarten.

Read the full story over on The Lactivist. I am going to go nurse a baby and put a band aid on my chin...

Longing

2007-01-15T21:00:00.000-06:00

Parenthood and I introduced ourselves to each other when I was in my early thirties. I was never in a hurry. I went to college, married, did more college, worked. J and always wanted kids, but felt maturity and experience would make us better parents. We were right about that, by the way. We were always comfortable with the number two. It is what we know. It is what we feel is responsible, both personally and in the sense of passing on this world to future generations. H-2 and E-baby, so we are done.

And I long for more.

I want to make love knowing. I want that stick to turn color. I want the happy tears stinging my eyes the first time I hear the heart beat. I want a toddler nursing, or not, around my ever expanding middle. I want evenings spent picking two names. I want my husband's and my eyes locking and have us both feel, KNOW, that this is the day. I want that beautiful, tiny creation sliding into the world and onto my belly. I want the dance that is nursing with a new partner, perhaps this time with the old partner still taking turns on the floor. It calls me, powerfully.

How many would be enough? Will I every stop longing?

And I am a Lutheran...

2006-12-21T09:40:00.001-06:00

I found a link to this neat quiz over at Random Musings:

You scored as Calvin. You are John Calvin. You have a Nestorian Christology and separate the Divinity and Humanity of Jesus. You believe only those who have faith are united to Christ, who is present spiritually, yet you call this "Real."

Calvin

88%

Zwingli

63%

Luther

63%

Catholic

13%

Unitarian

Eucharistic theology
created with QuizFarm.com

Ironically, Rebecca tested out as mostly Lutheran. :)

Does Nestle Own an Airline?

2006-12-14T21:28:00.000-06:00

There has been some news lately about air travel and breastfeeding.

Most of you have probably heard about the woman kicked off an airplane for nursing her young toddler. Apparently we are in such a state these days that offending the oh-so-delicate sensibilities of some uptight stewardess is now considered a threat to national security. After a huge uproar, it was disclosed that the rest of the crew had tried to talk some sense into said stewardess, and that she had been 'reprimanded', whatever that means.

And of course there is the dilemma of pumping Moms. For a variety of reasons, many Moms pump milk. Well, now that some nutcases hatched an ill-conceived and nearly impossible plan to use liquids to blow up a plane, you can kiss your breastmilk goodbye. Literally. Unless you have a baby with you, which in most cases would mean you did not need to pump, you will be asked to toss your liquid gold into the trash before boarding the plane. Yes, you can check it. But if you have been away from baby for a day or two, that is a whole lot of milk for the airline to misplace with the other baggage.

And checking the milk bags may not be an option in airports that require a trip through security when changing planes under certain circumstances. So all that milk you pumped on your 18 hour flight before changing planes? Trash it dear, would not want to risk national security. Quite a few chemists, you know, the people who actually know this stuff, have come out to say it would be virtually impossible to damage a plane using liquids. But since when has reality dictated airport security procedures.

And don't get me started on trying to get a flight attendant to provide enough water to keep a nursing mom hydrated on a long flight. I am surprised the airlines have not started charging for beverages. A recent change now allows you to bring a water bottle purchased at an overpriced concourse shop onto the plane. Oh yeehaw.

Hey, but we are keeping the terrorists at bay, since their goal is to so disrupt our way of living that we forgo our values and liberties. Oh wait...

Get Off Your Butt

2006-11-04T21:08:00.000-06:00

As you read this, millions of Americans are without healthcare even at its most basic. This number grows every day.

Our schools, instead of being great equalizers of opportunity, provide a huge boost to some while offering little more than crappy babysitting to others.

We are debating, vicously and mostly through the courts, the question of abortion.

Our national debt represents a huge burden to be passed on to our children. We have no plan on how to pay for Social Security in the future.

Our economy is dependent on oil, much of it obtained from unstable, unfriendly, or undemocratic countries.

Not so long ago, in a country half way across the world, over three fourths of the eligible population braved bullets and bombs in order to cast a ballot. One of the great questions of our current time is how involved we, the US of A, should be in the shaping of that country. Whatever you think if the war that got us involved, or any of these other things, you need to make your opinion known. Without the participation of the people, the great experiment that is Democracy is doomed.

GO VOTE.

Joy

2006-10-22T15:33:00.000-05:00

On the first of October, at 1:13 pm, Baby E entered the world. He did so at home, on the bed that his father and I share. The birth was attended and assisted by a very proud Daddy, our midwife R, and our birth attendant H. He was 8.75 lb, and 20.75 inches long.

I am struck by the contrasts of a hospital birth and a home birth. H2 was born in a hospital, with much of the accompanying intervention typical for the area. Most of these were unwanted, forced on us by mediocre hospital staff who cared only about what was easiest for them. Ridiculous things, like an episiotomy to birth a less than 7 pound baby because that is just how it is done. I wonder how much is also the hospital wanting to make money. I did not hold H2 for at least an hour, the doctor needed to repair the damage and his time was far more important than us. Recovering even partially from that birth took weeks, and complete physical and emotional recovery took months. Our joy rested solely with the amazing little girl our love and God's grace had granted us.

This time, love and caring surrounded the labor and birth. I drank, ate, showered, bathed, sat, stood, walked, cried, yelled, laughed. I was constantly reassured that everything was okay, that the baby and I were doing just fine. And when E joined us, he came out gently, causing barely a scratch. He laid on my chest until, a good long time later, I felt the desire to get a shower. Daddy got him then, and only after everyone was clean, well fed, and comfy did the weighing and measuring start. This happened right on the bed too. Big sister came home from the neighbor's house and crawled into bed, to cuddle us and meet her little brother. In fact, E did not leave our bed until I felt like coming downstairs the next day. Our joy was spread throughout the experience, extended to our whole family and the dear people who assisted us.

If only our country could come to its collective senses and make sure that this type of birth was available for any woman who wants it...

Poor, Neglected Blog

2006-09-13T13:20:00.000-05:00

Prolific I'm not. At least not at the keyboard. Yes, we have gutted 2 rooms and redone them, have a third in process, painted two more, and, oh yeah, I have a baby due in less than two weeks, but hey isn't that what everyone spends their summer doing?

Anyway, the crazy pregnant decorating lady is just about done with interior design. So hopefully the computer and the sewing machine will get a bit of attention in the next couple of weeks. Unless, of course, the baby comes early. . .

Ezzo, Ezzo Everywhere

2006-07-15T21:23:00.000-05:00

It is officially Ezzo week, many thanks to Tulip Girl for bringing so much good information to light. I wanted to take some time to discuss several things about BabyWise and the Ezzo method that have bothered me for a very long time.

I need to preface this by pointing out that we never even considered using Ezzo's methods to raise our children. One of the advantages of coming late to the parenthood party is that you get to see how the other folks that have been there are doing. The Ezzo method is quite popular in the military community, so we watched quite a few families using it. And everything we saw convinced us that BabyWise was not wise, not in the least. I did read the books from a morbid sense of curiosity. I just had to know what it was that was so attractive to so many, especially when it was obvious that it really was not working. I honestly still do not get the attraction. The books are poorly written, contradictory, and seem designed to make a parent feel like a failure. Why do parents pay good money and follow something like that, when so much sadness can result?

There is the faith thing, at least for me. We are a 'mixed' religion family. I am Lutheran, my husband is Roman Catholic. Gary Ezzo has nary a kind word for the Catholic religion. While I certainly disagree with many of the Catholic Church's teachings, I do so respectfully. And I also see that I agree with far more than I disagree with, and find that I have much common ground with my Catholic brothers and sisters in Christ. Why would those whose religion is belittled by Mr. Ezzo take his advice on parenting?

What about following the path of someone who is a successful parent? By most accounts, the Ezzos have two adult daughters. Neither daughter has a good relationship or significant contact with the elder Ezzos. I don't know about other people, but I hope to have a strong relationship with my children permanently. I don't think the job of parent ends. Some may say that the current situation has nothing to do with the way the Ezzo girls were parented as babies, but really, how do we know? Why are people willing to take that chance?

All this is nibbling around the edges of what REALLY bothers me. The harm caused by the Ezzo method to many families is well documented. A small sampling of this harm can be found at www.ezzo.info. Yet the Ezzos and their defenders explain it all away. Comments like 'oh they followed it too literally' or 'oh that is not what BabyWise says' or 'oh come on, you can't blame a book for bad parenting' are thrown about. HELLO!! Can we think about this here? If you were hooking up your new dvd player would you accept an instruction book that could not be taken too literally? If the person teaching you how to ride a bike gave you contradictory information, is it your fault that you, being inexperienced, did not know which advice to take? If you were trying to learn geometry, and you studied hard, did everything the book said to do, did all the homework exactly how you were supposed to, but failed miserably, would you accept that it must have been your fault alone? Come on, that is ridiculous. No one would accept these sorts of arguments in any other aspect of their lives, why does anyone accept it from an instruction book on parenting?

Maybe it is because I am a scientist, but to me if a method has a high failure rate, you look at the problem with the method. This is even more true when some of the failures are catastrophic. But in Ezzoland, all success is credited to the method, and all failure is blamed on the practitioner. That is not where I want to live as a parent, and it is not where I want my children to live either.

Virginia is for Lovers. Of Vermin

2006-06-15T14:12:00.000-05:00

One of the nice things about this area is that despite being in suburbia, we have farms fairly close by. So I joined a local Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) Co-Op. My brother has done this for years in Chicago, and I figured I would give it a go.

On my first week, I was making a salad from the baby lettuce that had arrived. I dropped lettuce into the salad spinner basket, then rinsed and added and rinsed and added until I though I had enough. Then I spun vigorously to dry and started to transfer the lettuce to plates. About that time, the spinner went sailing across the room. It seems that three days in the fridge, multiple water dousings, and a vigorous spin is not enough to disable, let alone kill, the average Virginia arachnid. Neither was an improptu sail across the kitchen. It took a spouse, an in sink disposal, and a toddler with no fear of things creapy crawly to dispatch the spider romping about in the arugula.

This is not my first tangle with vermin. Last fall I reached into my potting soil bag and annoyed the rather large rat that had taken up residence. Mosquitos here form posses. And the spiders. How I hate spiders. They are everywhere here: in the shower, in the closet, in the flowers. And just last week a large, hairy, juicy one was delivered, complete with egg sac, along with my weekly magazines and telephone bill.

When we moved back east, many folks commented on 'escaping' from all the poisonous creatures in the Southwest. Well let me tell you, there may be black widows, tarantulas, scorpions, and Mojave green rattlers, but at least they have the sense to stay where they belong. Outside, and as far from humans as possible.

Now if you will excuse me, I am going to go see about picking up some diatomaceous earth and praying mantis eggs. At least it may cut down on the spiders. . .

It's Not What You Think

2006-05-16T09:33:00.000-05:00

I am not one of those women that walked blissfully away from my paycheck and into stay at home motherhood. I miss work. I miss chatting with my coworkers of every age, ethnicity, and political persuasion. I miss the mental gymnastics. I miss the acknowledgement, in bonuses and higher than average raises, that I am really, really, REALLY good at my job.

Mostly though, I miss the coffee.

No, not that terrible swill you find in the community pot. Coffee. My love affair started in grad school, in the coffee town of Columbus, OH. Small, independent shops abound, a short walk from anywhere I happened to be on campus. But my favorite place was Stauf's Coffee Roasters. That was a drive, but oh so worth it. Coffee from around the world, shipped in green and roasted in 50 pound batches. My friend J and I would take a trip before seminar on Thursdays, with a pocket full of money and a list of orders from half the department.

A move to the southwest, and I had to lower my standards. Great restaurants abound in Las Vegas, but coffee, not so much. The local places were rude, overpriced, or just plain served bad coffee. That green-awninged behemoth, Starbucks, became my coffee oasis in the desert. And at work I made 'coffee friends.' Those of us that could not tolerate the office swill chipped in and got our own. It was not fresh roasted or anything, but a heavy cut above the stuff that comes in a large metal can. We always sipped the first cup around a small table in T's office. I also kept a personal stash of liquid gold, which I would French press in the afternoon on the really tough days. Or J-H and I would make a coffee run to Starbucks, stating our location as 'Building 13' on the sign-out board. We always got away with it too, probably because we never failed to bring back an iced coffee for our phenomenal admin.

Then, California. RURAL California. We did not even have the ubiquitous Starbucks. Another dry desert, again in more ways than one. After about 6 months, I found CA Coffee Roasters, a mail order coffee shop located in Los Angeles. Roast to order, ship the same day. Ah, bliss. And I had several work friends that also craved a decent cup o' joe. N would make the morning pot. In the afternoon M and I would argue, happily, over the cube wall about who would actually make the afternoon pot. I usually 'lost,' though once the coffee was done I would have a fresh cup delivered to my desk, mug pre-heated so as not to cool the coffee.

Now back to my current situation. East coast suburbia, not an independent coffee shop in sight. And no office coffee buddies this time either. I find myself high and dry. The deprivation is made more difficult by the fact that my current, about-to-bear-young condition keeps my coffee habit to a single, mediocre cup a day.

So have a cup for me. I'll join you when I can.

While you were sleeping

2006-05-11T21:54:00.000-05:00

H2 fell asleep in my arms tonight. This is not a regular occurrence. She is deciding that she is too big for all of that. The question is, am I?

In her short life, I have stayed home, worked part time, worked full time, and moved 2600 miles. Maybe I should not be surprised that at just over 2, she seems so old. And of course there is the whole becoming a big sister soon thing. She wants a little sister. Named Bob.

So here I sit, while you sleep. I don't know where all of this will lead, when or how or if I will go back to working for a paycheck. How, exactly, I feel about all of it. For now, I have found my way home, and I am going to stay a while.