Scenic Overlook

You can tell there is a newborn in the house. The piles of overflowing laundry. Random diapers strewn across a variety of surfaces. The Itzbeen timer constantly in company with the phone and television remote. And with having a newborn again, I feel my perspective is constanly changing and being renewed. The 2 year old baby boy I cuddled the night I went into labor, morphed into a lean articulate little man the day I came home and had him up on the changing table after his little brother.

I keep discovering that it is the smallest things that are the biggest markers of my life right now. As much as I didn't seem to recognize how far removed we actually were from having a "baby" in the family before Little Bear got here, now that he's here, its the accessories of this renewed way of life that are the largest markers of how far Scootch has grown beyond it. And how the time really has flown by.

Today my project was cleaning out the cabinet to make room for the bottles. I really switched out one type of bottle for another. I packed away all of Scootch's Nuby cups, which he really hasn't used in almost a year, to put up the Playtex Drop Ins for Little Bear. It really made me pause as I was rifling through the various rings and nipples and caps. As much as I record milestones, I don't know if there really is such a thing as the record of the "day" your son or daughter stopped doing something. Stopped nursing in favor of regular milk before bedtime. Stopped eating baby food in favor of table food. Stopped using a baby bottle in favor of a soft spout. Or finally stopped using a soft spout because s/he could be trusted with a regular cup. I think that's why there are still jars of baby food and puffs in the pantry, and I'm just now packing away all the soft spout Nuby's. The first night it could be a fluke, the second night you're giving it a week, and by weeks end, you've already adapted so well to the change that it probably doesn't occur to you that something significant has just happened. And now is the time I should be making promises to remember this with Little Bear, since this is my third and final chance to savor the journey. But I don't want to lie. The reality is that this is my THIRD. And I'm sure it will be even harder just to remember to jot down all the firsts, nevermind remembering the lasts.

But tonight, I am remembering. I'm holding Little Bear, and remembering when I was holding Monkey, or holding Scootch. I'm comparing their faces and hands and hair in my memory. And I'm trying to remember that even though life is a journey, there were certain points of interest I wanted to visit along the way. Even if to only snap a picture.

Arrivals

Our very own Little Bear has finally decided to come out of hibernation. On Tuesday, December 14th, nine days past his appointed due date, we were finally able to come face to face with our newest bundle of joy. Little Bear weighed 8lbs 14oz, and measured 21.75 inches long. Monkey and Scootch are overjoyed to add him to the family. We are so very blessed.

Sitting. Waiting. Wishing.

I've been hibernating over the past 20+ days. I'd like to say its for productive reasons, but really, its because I've been sleeping so much. Even now, when I'm finally home on Maternity Leave, 3 hour naps in the middle of the day are becoming commonplace and seriously cutting into the nesting duties. But with all the general STUFF going on that happens when you're incubating life while trying to juggle the lives of those around you, I'm starting to think the sleep might be the best preparation there is at the moment.

That and it lessens the time I'm conciously agonizing over wanting this baby OUT already. Patience is a virtue I was never gifted with. ;-)

"The world accomodating my child is the only sensible option"

Mompetition is one of the best blogs ever! Unless you don't like satire. Then don't bother clicking on the video below.



Sometimes its more fun to make fun of yourself.

Candyland

Its during the months of October through December that my husband and I rehash our plan of relocating to Canada. It always comes up in passing, but we actually semi-seriously consider it at this point in the year.

Why would we consider defecting to another country you ask? Easy. Besides knowing some great people there, Canada also has great food allergy policies for making their candy in facilities free of cross contamination. Just look at the back of this Canadian Kit Kat.


Besides the ingredient translation in French instead of Spanish, do you notice that there is no warning about the item being made in a facility that processes peanuts or tree nuts? That's because they aren't. They're made in a dedicated nut free facility. What a shame the US doesn't have more of those!

So any candy that comes into our house gets divided into piles of the following; pure evil, okay for consumption by family members, and Scootch safe.


Pure evil means it contains nuts or peanut butter, and noone can eat it around Scootch. Even if they're willing to abide by the 5 hour rule of avoiding contact with Scootch and any of his eating utensils and glasses until the aforementioned time limit is passed to be assured the nut traces can't be transferred, there is still the risk of dropped nut pieces, or the danger of him coming in contact with the wrapper, etc. Just too much to worry about, so its easier to just plain ban it from the house. The second category of candy is free from nut ingredients, but is usually processed in a facility that has a problem with cross contamination. That means Scootch shouldn't eat it, but if other family members do, he shouldn't be in danger of accidentally being exposed to any allergens. The third category of candy is my favorite. This is the stuff we can leave out and not freak about when he decides to sneak out of bed in the morning and pilfer it from the pantry himself. Unfortuantely almost all of it has to be shipped to the house since noone carries Canadian Nestle or Vermont Nut Free chocolate in their stores. I mean, only one Shoprite out of the 4 in our area carry Sunbutter on their shelves. I think it would take a miracle to get allergy-free candy mainstreamed into the consumer marketplace.

So back to our relocation discussion. I go to bed and dream of living in a country where nut and egg free baked goods are sold in the bakery section of the supermarket. Where you can pick up a candy bar in the checkout aisle and it be free of cross contamination. Where allergy friendly ice cream cakes are available everywhere instead of just the local ice cream shop. I dream of all that happening here since I know we probably will never find the guts or the money to make such a move happen.

Who knows. Maybe Scootch will grow up and make it happen here.

Help Through Hindsight

"Every tomorrow has two handles. We can take hold of it by the handle of anxiety, or by the handle of faith." ~Author Unknown

I was sitting at home the night of Halloween transferring the day's pictures to the computer from my camera, when I clicked back to the photo album containing pictures of Halloween 4 years ago.

Four years ago we had one little pumpkin,

This Halloween we have two pumpkins and one growing in the patch!



It was sad, exhilarating, and stressful, all in the same moment. I'm so glad that you learn to multi-task as a parent, (even if you're just multi-tasking your feelings) because, I have a confession. I feel so vulnerable and uncertain at this point about the future and what it holds for all of us as a family. Just so much is going on, and its gone from a daily struggle to fight the depression to an hourly one. Between the financial problems we still lack an answer to, the logistics of getting the house renovations finished before this kid gets here, and the physical needs that need to be medically attended to with each of us, I feel like I can't breathe from all the stress over unanswerable questions.

And in that moment where I was looking at that first photo, I caught myself wishing back for the past. Yearning for the time when it was just one child to worry about. When it seemed like the world was opening up with possibilities instead of closing in on me. When I felt feelings of peace and joy on a daily basis without having to reach for them. And I had to stop myself. I know I'm not through with this journey, but so far, if anything, it has taught me that the past is not the answer, but rather a clue as to how I need to refocus on the future. So I'm looking ahead and trying to see the light on the other end of the tunnel. I'm really, really, REALLY, hoping and praying that somehow this will all work out. That this family will thrive and grow despite the changes coming.

Basically, I'm hoping for a deliverance of multiple kinds before the year is through.

Proving Ground

"All the so-called 'secrets of success' will not work unless you do." ~Author Unknown

Validation that its not my baking skills that are faulty, but the recipes I'm using, came this month. October became a baking marathon between Monkey's birthday and the Halloween class parties at their school. Here are the photos submitted for evidence;

Class party birthday cupcakes:
Recipe used from Cybele Pascal's Allergen-Free Baker's Handbook

Result: WIN!
I even got a round of applause from her class just for showing up with a bakery box in the morning. What an ego boost! ;-)

Family party princess cake:
Recipe used from an adapted old butter cake recipe that I loved

Result: FAIL!

Miss Birthday Princess' skirt didn't rise enough, so I had to stake her torso in a paper cup and wedge it into the cake middle so she'd stand up straight. (And then camoflauge everything with icing!!)
Monkey didn't mind, though ;-)

Birthday party Dora cupcakes:
Recipe used from Cybele Pascal's Allergen-Free Baker's Handbook and NickJr.com

Result: WIN!
Unless you count the epic fail that were the directions on NickJr's website for decorating these suckers. Just a note for anyone who wants to attempt them - do not believe it when they say "70 minute prep time." Took me 3 hours! :-P

Halloween class party mini cupcakes with spiced pumpkin cream cheese frosting:
Recipe used from Cybele Pascal's Allergen-Free Baker's Handbook (and I just made up the icing)

Result: WIN!

And some of the best parts about having so many baking successes is Scootch's eyes lighting up when he sees a tray of cupcakes cooling on the counter and asks, "Mine cupcakes?"
Absolutely, kiddo. All of it for you.

Foodie Post

So I've had a few successes to bolster my baking self esteem. I made the Blueberry Boy Bait coffee cake courtesy of Cybele Pascal's The Allergen-Free Bakers Handbook, and then I dabbled with a recipe my MIL found on Oprah (of all places) by Alicia Silverstone for Oatmeal, Walnut, and Dried Plum Cookies, (of which we, of course, omitted a few nut ingredients).
The blueberry coffee cake was met with rave reviews, and I only had the slight problem of the cinnamon/sugar dusting not carmelizing on the top. (And no, I don't own a creme brulee torch to recitfy the problem easily). Needless to say, the fact that the topping wasn't as pictured in the book did little to dissuade anyone from eating it. It was gone in 4 days!

Yum!

Now onto the cookies. I just want to apologize in advance to my mother, since her oatmeal cookies have been my favorite since I was old enough to eat one. (Sorry Mom. You just got booted by Alicia Silverstone.) And of course, the fact that Scootch can enjoy them because they are a vegan recipe adds triple bonus points. Although, to be truthful to any vegans reading my blog, I did cheat and put butter in this since I don't own the prescribed safflower oil and would have no idea where to procure any if I wanted to. And that was only one of the tweaks this recipe underwent. (So if anyone wants the recipe as modified, feel free to email me!)


Anyways, just so you're fore-warned, these cookies should come with a warning label. I think the cookie dough was just as good (if not better) than the baked product. When I snuck some of the mixed wet ingredients off my finger I swear it was like eating liquid butterscotch, and the addition of the dry ingredients didn't diminish that particular deliciousness any. And what I love about them is that they don't suffer from preservative free-syndrome. You know where you bake all those cookies and they turn crispy and rock hard after a day no matter how you store them? Yeah, I hate that. Especially in oatmeal cookies. They shouldn't be something you'd give your kid to cut their baby teeth on. Although you could, because since they have oatmeal in them, they're healthy cookies, right? (I hope so since I ate them for breakfast) ;-)


So my next projects are cakes and cupcakes, since the Monkey's birthday is in a week. I need to make a cake for our home party that we have with family, and then cupcakes for her kiddie party at what my kids affectionately refer to as "Old McDonalds." I'll try to make sure to keep you posted with the successes of those! :-)

Disease

This might seem like a cop-out, but I think this guy's post is so perfect I don't even need to do anything but send you people over to read it yourselves.

In light of the tragedy surrounding Tyler Clementi, the desperation of Phoebe Prince, and all the others we've heard of in the past year or two that have felt such desperation that death seemed the only good option, I really think we need to stop putting the blame on the bullying, and the drugs, and the nature vs. nurture debate, and admit that there is something going on underneath that is creating the need for these scapegoats in the first place. This disease that has put responsibility and accountability to the back of the line instead of the forefront or our lives and ways of living.
Kudos to you, Dan, for calling us all out on it.

House Arrest

Hubby and I went out twice for the first time in a long time this month. The first time we ran away for 3 hours in the afternoon to catch a movie, and the last time was a wonderful dinner out with friends followed by cards, dessert, and drinks, back at their house. It catches me off guard how insulated we are, though, when we do happen to venture out. People talk of movies they've seen and events they've attended, and the only things I have to contribute are that I just scored a $10 off coupon to the newest Tinkerbell movie for the Monkey, and we went to see a life sized Thomas the Tank.

Between keeping the kids on schedule and the money tightrope we're walking at the moment, I understand its probably going to be a couple more years before we can go back to planning twice monthly get-togethers with friends again, but my other biggest hurdle is myself. Particularly my issues with entrusting my kids with other people.

I wonder if it would be so bad if Scootch didn't have such bad food allergies. This week alone I almost had a nervous breakdown filling out his Allergy Action Form for his new term at school. You think you've prepared yourself for the worst that could happen, but when the symptoms are listed in checkbox form ranging from "if child has ingested a food trigger and experiences no symptoms" to "if child has ingested a food trigger and experiences thready pulse, low blood pressure, fainting, pale, or blueness" and its up to you to tick off the box that tells them what to do in order to save him, believe me, the vision starts to swim and you start wondering if your lunch is going to end up back on your desk for an encore appearance.

And truthfully, I think its hard to gauge the perfect balance needed in a caregiver for a kid with food allergies. You want someone who is great with your children, compassionate, and loving, but ballsy enough to stick your kid in the leg with a 1-inch needle if the need arises, no questions asked. So we've basically stuck with family members when we've needed a sitter. Not that they're all at the same caliber, but for some reason I feel like if they're related, the more vested they are in the interest of Scootch, and the better job they might try to do at keeping him alive for the 5 hours I'm gone. Second to that, they're usually left in the company of adults versus the great high school kids we used to employ. I know there are some mature high school students out there, but I still feel that life experience is a better qualifier in my case (see the point about the one inch needle insertion above).

I try to reason with myself that its rare that Scootch will have a reaction. And I try to repeat to myself that we always surround our children with loving, well-meaning people who aren't afraid to take a little extra care to ensure the safety of our kids. But then hubby turns on an old episode of Freaks and Geeks so we can see vintage John Francis Daly, and it turns out to be the Chokin' and Tokin' episode where Bill is hospitalized after the kids in school stick peanuts in his sandwich as a prank.



So now my new hobby is researching home-schooling......

But seriously, I'm trying to take the time now and re-evaluate myself and my reactions to Scootch's allergies. I don't want to obsess and over-evaluate who to leave our kids with so much that our kids pick up on my nervousness. I don't want Monkey over-burdened with the task of being a food allergy enforcer when there aren't family members present. I don't want Scootch to fear going to the ice cream shop with his little league team after a game, or dread lunchtime at the school cafeteria. Maybe he'll get laughed at for always having hand wipes on him to wipe down his spot at the table and refusing to kiss the girl he likes behind the bleachers without asking her if she ate a Snickers bar in the past 5 hours, but I'm hoping those kinds of quirks will earn him a loyal following, even if it isn't a large one to get him through his childhood years. And I think that's the most important. I want him to have a childhood. A happy one. And that means Mommy and Daddy will need to get away from time to time.

The key to success

My new confidence booster.

Thanks to this and a FANTASTIC eggless pancake recipe I want to stay in the kitchen all day and do nothing but bake, bake, bake. (Might have something to do with my other compulsion to do nothing but eat, eat, eat, but I digress.)

I have successfully made the vanilla cupcakes, and hopefully will be moving onto the Blueberry Boy Bait which I think would be right up Scootch's alley (considering he ate more blueberries than he kept in his bucket when I took them berry picking last month.)

I will try to be better and take pictures of my successes before letting the family at them in the future. ;-)

"My list of ingredients for success is divided into four basic groups: Inward, Outward, Upward and Onward." - David Thomas

Idle Hands

So its been awhile since my last post. But its a good silence, I'm thinking. I'm rediscovering that if I keep myself busy enough, the mind can turn off for long stretches. So I figured I'd fill you in on what I was doing to turn off the little voice in my head.



















I have a strong feeling that I'll miss these summer days when they're gone. The weather is already turning cool and I've seen the leaves dropping in a few places already. Can't stop time from moving on. But at least we can look back at the pictures.

Belly Blog

I should be old hat at this stuff by now, right? I mean third time is the charm and all. It still never ceases to amaze me how much your body becomes possessed when you're carrying a child. Maybe not quite as Linda Blair as you're thinking, but my mood swings do make my (and everyone else in proximity's) head spin with their intensity, the projectile vomiting (which was probably mislabeled "morning" sickness by a man! It's really "all first trimester" sickness) I am thankfully over, but these stupid cravings still linger. Giving me out of body experiences all day long. I mean who wouldn't be going crazy all day trying to type up a report at work while the chanting in the back of your brain is saying "espresso brownies! espresso brownies! espresso brownies!"

So far the cravings have manifested as anything Tex-Mex, cherry slurpees, cheese danish, and (of all things) coffee! Why that one surprises me is that I am a hardcore tea drinker. Like, tea house visiting, tea party throwing, scones and imitation clotted cream tea drinker. All coffee attempts from middle school through college resulted in headaches and heartburn, but add a dash of gestation and I'm consuming at least one decaf-half-milk-three-sugars a day. Like I said. Possessed. And now the espresso bean brownies have taken up the call. The only place I've ever had crave-worthy ones is through this corporate baking company we were given a gift from by another company after the successful completion of a project we were collaborating on. I guess it only takes one time for the taste to be ingrained in the memory bank. So tempting. They could even be delivered to my door if I didn't feel like trekking the 40 minutes to scour the nearest Whole Foods in a vain attempt to not look like a deranged pregnant woman on a mission.

My only gripe is why I couldn't be infused with some positive personality traits instead of being confined to the mentality of a food hoarding squirrel. Some optimism and patience would be welcome treat instead of the persistent call to the nearest Quick Chek. But, c'est la vie, I guess. And so here I sit, scrolling through baby names on the internet and trying to resist channeling Ashley Judd's character in Where the Heart Is by naming baby #3 something like Praline or Brownie. Mmmmm, brownies. Espresso bean brownies. Must. Stop. Thinking. About. Brownies.

Better Half

“The minute I heard my first love story I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don't finally meet somewhere. They're in each other all along.” ~Jalal ad-Din Rumi

My husband was sent to me. This I believe wholeheartedly. God, fate, my mother, SOMEONE, up in the galaxy tilted the gravitational pull of the Earth and pulled him into the orbit of my life. One slow night after we first started dating, we actually tried mapping out all the different possibilities and ways we would have met, a 'la Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon. I think we stopped around the thirteenth scenario because we started to get a little freaked out. Inevitable is a word that comes to mind when I think about us getting together. And I couldn't be more grateful for that.

Some people get insulted when their spouse or significant other is referred to as their "better half," but I'm a realist in my world, and will be the first one to affirm that term for him. He is the Roy Croft quote come to life; "I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you."

When I'm frustrated with a project and ready to throw it against a wall, he's the first one to pry it out of my hands so I can go take a breather before I do anything I'll regret later. When I'm wound up and angry, he knows how long to stay silent before offering a lame joke to break me out of my red haze. When the kids are making me climb the walls, he usually manages to pop in with a distraction so I can go hide in the stairwell and take deep breaths to get myself under control. And lately, when I'm depressed, he knows just how to hold me, or compliment me, or lean down and talk to the baby in my stomach, to get me to see the light again in the self-imposed rabbit hole I fall into. Even though somedays I feel like we're doing such a good job raising our little wildebeasts as a united front, and others it feels like a baton race, I never have to wonder who or where my partner is. He is all around me, keeping me up, watching my back, leading me on, and best of all, at my side. Coaxing me to enjoy the view.

Never fully dressed

When I have weeks that involve stuff like this happening, which is totally out of my control; (that crack is in my car's front windshield, by the way)


It's nice that I can come home and spend 2 hours making a dress that makes my Monkey smile like this;


Or set up a $10 slip n' slide that can elict shreiks of glee out of Scootch;

Sometimes on my darkest days, I think that if I just keep looking here, at the personifications of my heart, everything is just going to work out. If I can just keep myself smiling, it will have to turn out for the better. For them.

The Science of Solace

In any man who dies there dies with him, his first snow and kiss and fight.... Not people die but worlds die in them. ~Yevgeny Yevtushenko

It has not been a good past few days.

The mood swings from my lack of meds is frightening. The kids are wound up tighter, most likely due to the beautiful weather outside and their lack of playing in it. And on Tuesday it was my birthday. Not just any birthday, but the last birthday before I cross that prime meridian in my mind where I will be on this Earth for more years without my mother than I will have knowing her. My personal Y2K crisis.

But its things like this that really bring home how much I'm missing my mother.


Fallen cupcakes might not make much sense to you, but my mother was both a baker and a scientist. When the cookies came out flat she knew that I needed to add more flour. When my boxed cake didn't come out right, she could tell I was being impatient and didn't mix it for the whole 2 minutes the package directs. When she fell in love with a batch of orange muffins while we were on vacation, she went home and made up a recipe for them. She knew relationships that existed between baking powders and sodas and salts and flours, and I was content as a child to be honored when I was allowed to lick the beaters.

How I wish back for that lab time now. There isn't a recipe that I try to make for Scootch that has come out right yet. Pancakes, boxed cakes, scratch cakes. Modified, fortified, and verbatim. They all crumble, fall, or fail to rise at all. I used to love baking. My husband used to brag I was good at it. But lately it just feels like I'm failing a midterm anytime I lug out the Kitchen Aid. And as much as everyone is sympathetic, I just have this feeling that if my mom were here, she would fix it. She would HAVE a recipe that wouldn't fail me. Possibly multiple ones at this point. In all kinds of flavors so her grandson wouldn't be missing out on what red velvet or devil's food cake did to your tongue.

My only small solace is this;



At least she left me the means to still decorate my disasters.

Hurdles

When the world says, "Give up,"
Hope whispers, "Try it one more time." ~Unknown

I like to make plans. Maybe its due in part of my OCD nature, or maybe its because I grew up in a boating family that charted and plotted a course in the summer before undertaking it. Either way, I've grown up to be a planner. It helps to keep the anxiety away when I think I know what to expect. But its becoming more clear that I should have taken up a sport like track and field in high school instead of indulging in something safe and choreographed like the Drill Team I was on. Hurdles seem to be a common fixture in my life.

When my husband and I got married, we had a plan to stop at three kids. Plans changed after Scootch was born, and I found myself unable to function or leave the house without help. So we decided it would be best to change the plans and stop at two. We've made plans since then, we just recently tried to start up our own business, bought a car, and basically have tried to stick to the plans. Apparently, though, someone else has different plans for us.

Two Fridays ago, I just got confirmation that we'll be expecting baby #3 in December, despite the measures we went through to ensure a limit on our family numbers. The anti-anxiety medication I've been on will have to be stopped for the baby. I'll have to quit my day job and hope that we'll still survive without my additional income paying for the food and utility bills since the business isn't pulling in any money yet. And I'm already stressing over having to remove my kids from their wonderful school, and turning their days full of friends and learning into being walled up at home with an over-anxious mother.

Its hard to keep feeling like I can keep it together when so many things start spinning out of control at once. And as much excitement we're feeling over actually getting the 3 kids we originally planned for, the hurdles are looking a little daunting and numerous. But I'm hoping. I'm hoping that whoever changed our plans will also point us in the direction of the solutions. I'm hoping this is an experience that might help me recover some strength against my fears instead of further exiling me to the shadows of my anxieties.

I'm hoping that hope will prevail.

Bedknobs and Broomsticks

This is where the magic happens. (No, that's NOT where I'm headed, just keep reading!)
This is where dressing rituals become tickle matches, where fortresses are built, or rivers are explored. Where refuge is gained from scary sharks and alligators. Where sheets become cavern walls, or parachutes, or dresses, or bridal veils. Where pillows are seats, or airplane wings, or the coal car behind a train engine. This is where hiding in plain sight is still the best game, with only a thin sheet between you and the world that seems safer than the thickest steel wall. This is base when playing tag. Where mornings are started with giggles and peek a boo. Where talks are shared, and reprimands, and make-up kisses and cuddles. This is where sick restless nights are soothed into quiet daybeaks. Where daughters watch mothers transform into princesses before their very eyes.

This is where I lie awake at night and turn over my blessings in my mind.

This is, by far, my favorite place in the house.

Up and Down

I love my Mother in Law. And I don't mean that facetiously. She's funny, and truthful, and sometimes she's losing her mind, but we love her anyway. (I'm convinced Me-Ma is Monkey's favorite person on the entire planet.) She is also the first one I turn to for advice since my own mother isn't here. My Mother in Law has talked me down from many a metaphorical ledge in the past.

So when she called me last Tuesday in a panic about Scootch, I convinced myself to stay calm and return the favor.

Tuesday morning I dropped off Monkey and Scootch to Me-Ma's as usual and then was off to work. The cell phone rang before I even got to my destination. My MIL was frantic, asking me what Scootch first signs of an allergic reaction were. Apparently, she was finishing her breakfast when I dropped off the kiddos, and Scootch asked for a bite of her cereal. He had almost 3 spoonfuls before she remembered there was some granola mixed in with her Cheerios. Granola with almonds.

We went through the signs of a reaction and the protocol for what medicines she needed to use if he did react. I also called every couple of hours to see how he was doing. But the miraculous thing is that he didn't have a reaction at all. Peanut allergic Scootch, who has been ordered to avoid all other nuts as a general rule, doesn't seem to be allergic to almonds.

I'm hopeful after such a happy accident as this.