I took off the training wheels yesterday, explained the mechanics of balance, and he took off riding... and hasn't fallen yet! Just a few 'unscheduled stops' but no actual falls.
I am so proud of him!
May 11, 2008
April 30, 2008
Cool Tricks, Cool Tricks!
Stella has learned to shake her head 'no' as of this morning. She knows she's funny.
April 25, 2008
Flower Girl
How's this for cute?
Playing outside with the boys this afternoon, she was smiley and sitting up by herself in the grass.
Playing outside with the boys this afternoon, she was smiley and sitting up by herself in the grass.
April 17, 2008
Not Awesome vs. Awesome
Not Awesome:
My Granny H had a degenerative eye condition known as retinitis pigmentosa. It just so happens to be genetic. So, every two years, I make sure that I get an eye exam to check to see how my retinas are doing. Today was that day, and it is not awesome, I assure you. Retinas look good, which is awesome.
Oh, and when they tell you the glaucoma test is 'a little puff of air,' don't believe them. Imagine someone aiming an airbrush directly at your eye for about 1.5 seconds. That's the glaucoma test. Not awesome.
Awesome:
Four- and two-and-a-half-year-old boys tend to be picky eaters, with preferences often depending on their moods and the day of the week. Ours are no exception. Ethan likes mashed potatoes but only a little meatloaf; George prefers meatloaf and freaks with even a tiny bit of mashed potato. Yet he'll eat roasted potato slices without complaint.
Tonight the boys ate grilled chicken, roasted asparagus, red peppers and onions on pita with roasted garlic hummus. And they asked for seconds. They fought over a roasted red pepper.
We try to expose them to lots of different foods, and have always required that they eat a substantial amount of vegetables. Like most kids they don't like certain things, but these two beg for salad. To the point that I've started giving them their salads after they eat their dinners.
I am happy.
My Granny H had a degenerative eye condition known as retinitis pigmentosa. It just so happens to be genetic. So, every two years, I make sure that I get an eye exam to check to see how my retinas are doing. Today was that day, and it is not awesome, I assure you. Retinas look good, which is awesome.
Oh, and when they tell you the glaucoma test is 'a little puff of air,' don't believe them. Imagine someone aiming an airbrush directly at your eye for about 1.5 seconds. That's the glaucoma test. Not awesome.
Awesome:
Four- and two-and-a-half-year-old boys tend to be picky eaters, with preferences often depending on their moods and the day of the week. Ours are no exception. Ethan likes mashed potatoes but only a little meatloaf; George prefers meatloaf and freaks with even a tiny bit of mashed potato. Yet he'll eat roasted potato slices without complaint.
Tonight the boys ate grilled chicken, roasted asparagus, red peppers and onions on pita with roasted garlic hummus. And they asked for seconds. They fought over a roasted red pepper.
We try to expose them to lots of different foods, and have always required that they eat a substantial amount of vegetables. Like most kids they don't like certain things, but these two beg for salad. To the point that I've started giving them their salads after they eat their dinners.
I am happy.
Sock Bag
Today I received the most awesome thing in the mail.
It's my handmade sock knitting bag from Messie Craftie!
I can put my sock project in it, close it up with the toggle, and keep the drawstring over my wrist so that I can knit while walking. In fact, it's holding the larger Fancy Pants WIP (two skeins of KnitPicks Felici in Patina, pattern, needles and small knit kit.) This is so much nicer than the low-rent Ziploc bags that I've been using.
Whee!
It's my handmade sock knitting bag from Messie Craftie!
I can put my sock project in it, close it up with the toggle, and keep the drawstring over my wrist so that I can knit while walking. In fact, it's holding the larger Fancy Pants WIP (two skeins of KnitPicks Felici in Patina, pattern, needles and small knit kit.) This is so much nicer than the low-rent Ziploc bags that I've been using.
Whee!
Blog Item # 1,275
Just another thing I keep meaning to blog about;
Since I first started cooking about 11 years ago, I have gone through three Crock Pots. Three. It is so extraordinarily annoying to have my crock pots take a crap after only having them for four or five years.
The most recent slow cooker catastrophe happened on Sunday, when I was making spaghetti sauce and meatballs. The handle broke off of the lid and there's no way to repair it without getting a replacement.
Rival doesn't sell just the lid handle; you have to buy an entire lid. Which is $12, plus $8.50 for shipping. Plus tax. Which comes out to about $22. A brand new 5.5 quart oval crock pot is $29.99. With a dishwasher-safe hinged lid that can be secured for travel and removable crock.
It makes me sick how cheaply these things are made nowadays.
Do you see this?
This is the crock pot my Mom gave me about 15 years ago. The stone doesn't come out, the lid is glass, not molded plexiglass, and there's no timer feature or fancy schmancy digital display. Three settings -- Hi, Low, and Off. She got this crock pot ca. 1973, and gave it to me back in 1995. It's survived three moves and three children, and it is still working.
I love this crock pot. It's orange and chipped, but I use it often for small batches of soup or dips. In fact, I use it to keep mashed potatoes warm when we have company. It was made in the USA before Rival started assembling their crock pots overseas. I wish that these things were still manufactured as well as they used to be.
Since I first started cooking about 11 years ago, I have gone through three Crock Pots. Three. It is so extraordinarily annoying to have my crock pots take a crap after only having them for four or five years.
The most recent slow cooker catastrophe happened on Sunday, when I was making spaghetti sauce and meatballs. The handle broke off of the lid and there's no way to repair it without getting a replacement.
Rival doesn't sell just the lid handle; you have to buy an entire lid. Which is $12, plus $8.50 for shipping. Plus tax. Which comes out to about $22. A brand new 5.5 quart oval crock pot is $29.99. With a dishwasher-safe hinged lid that can be secured for travel and removable crock.
It makes me sick how cheaply these things are made nowadays.
Do you see this?
This is the crock pot my Mom gave me about 15 years ago. The stone doesn't come out, the lid is glass, not molded plexiglass, and there's no timer feature or fancy schmancy digital display. Three settings -- Hi, Low, and Off. She got this crock pot ca. 1973, and gave it to me back in 1995. It's survived three moves and three children, and it is still working.
I love this crock pot. It's orange and chipped, but I use it often for small batches of soup or dips. In fact, I use it to keep mashed potatoes warm when we have company. It was made in the USA before Rival started assembling their crock pots overseas. I wish that these things were still manufactured as well as they used to be.
April 08, 2008
She's Almost Crawling
I cannot believe it, she's scooting -- pulling herself with her arms and pushing with her feet. I am not ready for this.
Standing Up for Birth Plans
So a few weeks ago, the Cleveland Plain Dealer ran an article about birth plans. The basic tone of the piece was that they are unnecessary, even inhibiting a doctor's ability to offer quality obstetric care.
So I wrote me a letter. And it was published in the Opinion section of today's Plain Dealer.
Woot! I'm going to copy it and send it to my midwife.
So I wrote me a letter. And it was published in the Opinion section of today's Plain Dealer.
Health-care providers should respect birth plans
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
I read with interest the March 24 article "Having birth plan is no guarantee."
As a woman who has had three children with the assistance of my nurse-midwife, I found that having a birth plan enabled me to clarify my expectations and communicate well with my midwife.
I educated myself on all of my birth options and drafted a one-page plan. My midwife understood our desire to have intervention-free, unmedicated Bradley births, and worked with us to achieve our goals.
As patients, we bear half of the responsibility for communicating effectively with our medical providers. Physicians like Dr. Sarah Pasqualone (who does not "allow" her patients to have birth plans) disregard an important communication tool. It fosters the attitude that pregnant women can't be trusted to formulate intelligent decisions about our care.
I would never choose a health-care professional not interested in my opinions about my own care.
Woot! I'm going to copy it and send it to my midwife.
April 04, 2008
Socks and Seedlings
Sock #1 has been completed.
On to sock #2.
And Georgie won the Basil Sprouting Contest. His seeds were the first to sprout leaves.
On to sock #2.
And Georgie won the Basil Sprouting Contest. His seeds were the first to sprout leaves.
March 14, 2008
Subversion Afoot
So yesterday Georgie decided to tell me, "Mommy, you're nasty. I don't love you anymore. I want a new Mommy. I want you to go away and take Stella and I get a new Mommy."
Talk about your not-sure-whether-to-burst-into-laughter-or-dissolve-into-tears moment.
This stemmed, of course, from a dose of discipline that George didn't feel to be warranted, so he was sitting on The Step fuming. I asked him who would feed him and wash his clothes and read books and play Hi Ho Cherry-O and help him build bridges and tunnels for his Matchbox cars and rub Vicks on his back and his feet when he's sick and bake cookies with him. And paints. And walks at the Nature Center. And play computer games.
He interrupted me to say, "I'm sorry, Mommy. I don't want you to go away. Can we bake cookies now?"
Ah, butter and flour and sugar as currency.
An old picture, but it shows their lack of enthusiasm for discipline.
Talk about your not-sure-whether-to-burst-into-laughter-or-dissolve-into-tears moment.
This stemmed, of course, from a dose of discipline that George didn't feel to be warranted, so he was sitting on The Step fuming. I asked him who would feed him and wash his clothes and read books and play Hi Ho Cherry-O and help him build bridges and tunnels for his Matchbox cars and rub Vicks on his back and his feet when he's sick and bake cookies with him. And paints. And walks at the Nature Center. And play computer games.
He interrupted me to say, "I'm sorry, Mommy. I don't want you to go away. Can we bake cookies now?"
Ah, butter and flour and sugar as currency.
An old picture, but it shows their lack of enthusiasm for discipline.
March 11, 2008
Tape and Miss La La
This afternoon Ethan decided to move a large floor lamp in the living room. I told him to stop, explained that if it fell it could hurt him or Georgie, and that it would break into tiny pieces.
Ethan solemnly looked into my eyes and said, "It's OK Mommy. I fix it with tape."
Yep. Has an answer for everything.
Miss Chickpea has a new talent; just tonight after George got home from work, she started making this "lalalalalalalala" sound. It's her first vocalization; she's been mouthing it for awhile but no sound. I have to write this down in her book.
Ethan solemnly looked into my eyes and said, "It's OK Mommy. I fix it with tape."
Yep. Has an answer for everything.
Miss Chickpea has a new talent; just tonight after George got home from work, she started making this "lalalalalalalala" sound. It's her first vocalization; she's been mouthing it for awhile but no sound. I have to write this down in her book.
March 10, 2008
Gaining
Stella's six month pediatrician appointment was today; she weighed 12.5 pounds, which is excellent. She's in the 10th percentile and proportionate in head, height and weight, which is wonderful. I feel so relieved knowing that she's doing well.
When she starts sitting up unassisted, we'll start with vegetables. Yum.
When she starts sitting up unassisted, we'll start with vegetables. Yum.
March 09, 2008
On Being Neighborly
This morning we finished digging out, and after breakfast George finished clearing the sidewalk and then went next door to snow blow our neighbors' driveway.
The boys finished eating and were waiting to go outside with Daddy and play in the snow. A half hour turned into an hour turned into two, and I found myself getting really irritated about the whole thing. I mean, the baby was going to wake up and I was going to need to change and nurse her, then try to get the boys dressed in their snow pants and boots... it was just not working according to my plans.
Georgie asked, "Mommy, what's Daddy doing?"
I caught myself before saying, "For some reason, he's clearing the neighbors' driveway instead of getting the snow off of our van." In that instant, I realized how selfish I sounded. Things weren't working according to my plans, my inflexible little ideas of how I expected the morning to be operating.
I bent down and looked Georgie in the face and said, "Daddy's being a good neighbor."
More often than not, it's difficult to do the right thing. It can be inconvenient or irritating. But being 'neighborly' isn't about doing what's easy. We don't do the right thing because we have to; we do the right thing because it's right, and it's our obligation to set a good example for our children by walking the walk.
Our neighbors got home tonight; they had to go out of town for a family emergency and it would have taken them several hours to clear the driveway after a long drive. I'm glad they have one less thing to worry about.
The boys finished eating and were waiting to go outside with Daddy and play in the snow. A half hour turned into an hour turned into two, and I found myself getting really irritated about the whole thing. I mean, the baby was going to wake up and I was going to need to change and nurse her, then try to get the boys dressed in their snow pants and boots... it was just not working according to my plans.
Georgie asked, "Mommy, what's Daddy doing?"
I caught myself before saying, "For some reason, he's clearing the neighbors' driveway instead of getting the snow off of our van." In that instant, I realized how selfish I sounded. Things weren't working according to my plans, my inflexible little ideas of how I expected the morning to be operating.
I bent down and looked Georgie in the face and said, "Daddy's being a good neighbor."
More often than not, it's difficult to do the right thing. It can be inconvenient or irritating. But being 'neighborly' isn't about doing what's easy. We don't do the right thing because we have to; we do the right thing because it's right, and it's our obligation to set a good example for our children by walking the walk.
Our neighbors got home tonight; they had to go out of town for a family emergency and it would have taken them several hours to clear the driveway after a long drive. I'm glad they have one less thing to worry about.
Blizzard
March 05, 2008
CPD Officer Derek Owens
Another father, brother, husband, son. A wife now a widow. Children now fatherless. I pray for the family and for the officers who must continue to do their jobs in spite of the loss of their brother.
March 03, 2008
A little color
It's been dreary and snowy and I'm having some issues with the wool boot socks, so I finally busted out my self-striping Trekking XXL and cast on a sock using YH's basic sock recipe.
I figured I'll 'practice' before my Rabbitch's Revenge shows up, I need a little work picking up the stitches for the heel gusset (this would be the issue with the wool
boot socks).
Wow. Can I just say?
This is the first time I've ever knit with self-striping yarn, and I see how addicting it can be. It's like magic, how the colors start to change, then a bit of a pattern emerges, all without having to change yarns. No weaving in ends, nothing. Just a gorgeous stripey sock that makes me look forward to the heel. Seriously.
Oh, it's supposed to be in the 50s, possibly 60s, today. I'm going to have to get the boys mud boots and get them outside. Who knows how long before we'll see decent weather again?
I figured I'll 'practice' before my Rabbitch's Revenge shows up, I need a little work picking up the stitches for the heel gusset (this would be the issue with the wool
boot socks).
Wow. Can I just say?
This is the first time I've ever knit with self-striping yarn, and I see how addicting it can be. It's like magic, how the colors start to change, then a bit of a pattern emerges, all without having to change yarns. No weaving in ends, nothing. Just a gorgeous stripey sock that makes me look forward to the heel. Seriously.
Oh, it's supposed to be in the 50s, possibly 60s, today. I'm going to have to get the boys mud boots and get them outside. Who knows how long before we'll see decent weather again?
She's a screamer
Stella has this eardrum-piercing scream that she uses when she's not getting enough attention. It's like an ice pick in your head, and although I've gotten a little more used to it, Daddy has not. The boys never did this, I wonder if it's just a girl thing?
I haven't gotten any video of her doing the Mariah Carey version, but here are a couple of salty squeaks.
I haven't gotten any video of her doing the Mariah Carey version, but here are a couple of salty squeaks.
February 20, 2008
Laugh
I've been too busy to post, but I found a great site where you upload your own pictures and caption them. Some of them are just hilarious.
Of course, I couldn't resist capping this one of Ethan from this past summer.
February 15, 2008
Sick
I've been sick for the past week, started coming down with some sinus thing last Friday and whammo Saturday I spent the entire day either in bed or on the couch. So sick, in fact, that I didn't even pick up my knitting for three days. The last time I was so sick I couldn't get up was ten years ago when I had a major bout of bronchitis. Lack of sleep, lowered immune system conspired against me, and I was down for the count. I feel somewhat recovered, although Ethan is still killing us by getting up several times a night. We were up six times last night between him and the baby. No wonder it's taken me a week to recover from this!
Fortunately, I seem to be the only one felled by this disaster cold, which is a good thing.
It's so gray and dull here, I'm begging my primroses to stay alive just to have some color in the house. In fact, I caved and jumped on the Yarn Harlot bandwagon -- I ordered Rabbitch's Revenge sock yarn yesterday and I'm gonna make me a pair of nice, bright socks. I needs me some color.
In other knitting news, the Irish Hiking Scarf is coming along nicely (I think I've finally memorized the pattern properly, so that I can knit in the store without looking) and George's boot socks have about 2.5 inches of the leg done. The gray and blue isn't as blah as I thought it would be. The Knit Picks Wool of the Andes turned out to be quite nice to work with for a reasonably-priced wool, it doesn't split, even with the sharp Knit Picks DPNs.
Grocery store is calling... joy.
Fortunately, I seem to be the only one felled by this disaster cold, which is a good thing.
It's so gray and dull here, I'm begging my primroses to stay alive just to have some color in the house. In fact, I caved and jumped on the Yarn Harlot bandwagon -- I ordered Rabbitch's Revenge sock yarn yesterday and I'm gonna make me a pair of nice, bright socks. I needs me some color.
In other knitting news, the Irish Hiking Scarf is coming along nicely (I think I've finally memorized the pattern properly, so that I can knit in the store without looking) and George's boot socks have about 2.5 inches of the leg done. The gray and blue isn't as blah as I thought it would be. The Knit Picks Wool of the Andes turned out to be quite nice to work with for a reasonably-priced wool, it doesn't split, even with the sharp Knit Picks DPNs.
Grocery store is calling... joy.
February 08, 2008
There's Something to be Said for Instinct
Aha! I found this, and my freaking out has lessened even more.
Did you know that the CDC charts that just about every U.S. pediatrician uses does not take into consideration whether a baby is formula fed or breastfed? Since breastfed babies tend to gain less between 3-11 months, they usually fall to the lower end of the spectrum -- all of our children have.
If you consider growth charts of only breastfed babies, Stella is on the small side, but still charts in the 5th percentile. So I guess I'm not so freaked out, although I still plan on implementing all of the changes so we have a nice, squishy baby.
Did you know that the CDC charts that just about every U.S. pediatrician uses does not take into consideration whether a baby is formula fed or breastfed? Since breastfed babies tend to gain less between 3-11 months, they usually fall to the lower end of the spectrum -- all of our children have.
If you consider growth charts of only breastfed babies, Stella is on the small side, but still charts in the 5th percentile. So I guess I'm not so freaked out, although I still plan on implementing all of the changes so we have a nice, squishy baby.
Climbing Down Off the Ledge
I'm not freaking out so much about the nursing. I've come down with a pretty craptastic cold, all the more excuse to stay in, do Zicam and JuicePlus, and nurse constantly.
After some research, good advice from my online group and chatting with a local La Leche League leader, I've decided on the following plan of attack.
1. Increase my intake of Omega 3s (fish oil)
2. Eat more good fish (easy, since everything is on sale during Lent)
3. Increase my water
4. Drink more Mother's Milk Tea
5. Lots of good fats -- olive oil, avocado, eggs, real butter
6. Nurse as much as possible for as often as possible
I'm going to call the pediatrician's office to see if I can take her in and weigh her in two weeks, just to see if there's any change. If not, then we'll reevaluate.
The LLL leader said something I hadn't thought of; around five months, babies really begin to notice their surroundings. If she's distracted by something (her brothers, my knitting) then she unlatches and I think she's done, when she's really just looking around.
Somebody's awake -- time to nurse!
After some research, good advice from my online group and chatting with a local La Leche League leader, I've decided on the following plan of attack.
1. Increase my intake of Omega 3s (fish oil)
2. Eat more good fish (easy, since everything is on sale during Lent)
3. Increase my water
4. Drink more Mother's Milk Tea
5. Lots of good fats -- olive oil, avocado, eggs, real butter
6. Nurse as much as possible for as often as possible
I'm going to call the pediatrician's office to see if I can take her in and weigh her in two weeks, just to see if there's any change. If not, then we'll reevaluate.
The LLL leader said something I hadn't thought of; around five months, babies really begin to notice their surroundings. If she's distracted by something (her brothers, my knitting) then she unlatches and I think she's done, when she's really just looking around.
Somebody's awake -- time to nurse!
February 07, 2008
It Gets Better
Today was George's 4-year pediatric visit and Stella's 5-month visit. George is healthy as a horse, small for his stature but well-proportioned, 20/20 vision and excellent (if selective) hearing.
Stella, on the other hand, has only gained one pound since her three-month visit. She's five months and 11 lbs., so she has officially dropped off the low-end of the CDC growth charts. Our ped suggested that we start supplementing breastfeeding with a little rice cereal and breastmilk twice a day for a couple of weeks.
Other than her lack of weight gain, she appears to be healthy and progressing normally. She is definitely getting teeth, and the doctor thinks they'll make their grisly appearance within a few weeks' time. Her 'tourniquet toe' is healing well, and he doesn't think she'll suffer any long-term adverse affects.
I'm trying to weigh the good with the bad (sorry for the unintended pun) but I seem to be freaking out slightly about this weight thing. I've prided myself on being a balanced, logical person but this has thrown me for a loop. The boys were both smaller in stature, and since they were proportionate I was never too concerned, since they ate well and seemed to have high metabolisms.
Although I'm still nursing on-demand round-the-clock, I think I'm going to have to make a concerted effort to sit and nurse more, for longer periods, with Stella. I really don't want to introduce solids yet, but what's best for baby is what must prevail.
Stella, on the other hand, has only gained one pound since her three-month visit. She's five months and 11 lbs., so she has officially dropped off the low-end of the CDC growth charts. Our ped suggested that we start supplementing breastfeeding with a little rice cereal and breastmilk twice a day for a couple of weeks.
Other than her lack of weight gain, she appears to be healthy and progressing normally. She is definitely getting teeth, and the doctor thinks they'll make their grisly appearance within a few weeks' time. Her 'tourniquet toe' is healing well, and he doesn't think she'll suffer any long-term adverse affects.
I'm trying to weigh the good with the bad (sorry for the unintended pun) but I seem to be freaking out slightly about this weight thing. I've prided myself on being a balanced, logical person but this has thrown me for a loop. The boys were both smaller in stature, and since they were proportionate I was never too concerned, since they ate well and seemed to have high metabolisms.
Although I'm still nursing on-demand round-the-clock, I think I'm going to have to make a concerted effort to sit and nurse more, for longer periods, with Stella. I really don't want to introduce solids yet, but what's best for baby is what must prevail.
February 04, 2008
Neglectful
So I was giving Stella a bath yesterday morning, and when I took off her socks, I noticed that one of her toes looked very red compared to the others.
Upon closer examination, I saw that she had one of my hairs wrapped tightly around the toe. I removed the hair, but her toe was still red and swollen. I started to freak out a bit when her toe was still red at bedtime, and found out that this is called a hair tourniquet. In rare cases, babies lose toes or other digits.
I never experienced this with either of the boys, I had no idea. And she wasn't fussy, so I don't know if it looked worse than it felt or what.
Suffice it to say I should be changing her socks more often.
It looks much better this morning, her second toe looks like it has an extra knuckle line, but that's it.
Upon closer examination, I saw that she had one of my hairs wrapped tightly around the toe. I removed the hair, but her toe was still red and swollen. I started to freak out a bit when her toe was still red at bedtime, and found out that this is called a hair tourniquet. In rare cases, babies lose toes or other digits.
I never experienced this with either of the boys, I had no idea. And she wasn't fussy, so I don't know if it looked worse than it felt or what.
Suffice it to say I should be changing her socks more often.
It looks much better this morning, her second toe looks like it has an extra knuckle line, but that's it.
February 01, 2008
The Bread Post
Wow, being the first to comment on the Yarn Harlot's blog really ups your hit count.
Here's a link to the bread post.
Here's a link to the bread post.
That's Where My Brains Are
When my sister and I were little, we often bathed together. One day during our bath, I poked her in the backside and pondered, "I wonder what that hole is for?" M. replied, "That's where my brains are!"
Often I feel as if my brains have been sucked into a black hole, the nether regions of semi-consciousness. I think it's a combination of parenthood and the lack of sleep that has plagued us for the last four years. The last time that I slept more than 4 hours without being woken up was about a month before Stella was born -- both boys miraculously slept through the night, and the aches and pains and frequent urination that is part of late pregnancy did not wake me.
For those of you a little fuzzy on the math, it's been almost six months since we've had a solid, four-hour stretch of sleep. Which leads me to the purpose of this post.
We go through steel-cut oats like you wouldn't believe. We have it for breakfast almost daily, which means I cook roughly two pounds a week. Bob's Red Mill is not exactly cheap -- $4.99 a lb. for the organic steel-cut oats, as opposed to $3.49 a lb. for the regular steel-cut oats. I was lamenting to one of my online groups about the high cost of grain, and someone suggested, "Why don't you see if it's cheaper to buy bulk?"
Oh. Well. Color me brain-dead.
Nature's Bin in Lakewood sells a 25-lb. bag of organic steel-cut oats for $21. Which translates to $.84 a lb vs. $4.99 a lb. I already buy all of our organic milk from Trader Joe's ($5.86 a gallon vs. $6.98 from Giant Eagle). I usually go once a month and freeze it, along with bread from the Pepperidge Farm outlet store.
So now we are looking at whether or not we need to invest in either a Costco or Sam's Club membership, and whether the membership cost will off-set our savings, especially since we try to eat as much organic food as possible and Sam's doesn't carry a whole lot of organics. Not to mention the cost of grass-fed beef and free range poultry.
Maybe we'll just cowshare and split a cow with someone. It's bound to be cheaper, I would think.
Often I feel as if my brains have been sucked into a black hole, the nether regions of semi-consciousness. I think it's a combination of parenthood and the lack of sleep that has plagued us for the last four years. The last time that I slept more than 4 hours without being woken up was about a month before Stella was born -- both boys miraculously slept through the night, and the aches and pains and frequent urination that is part of late pregnancy did not wake me.
For those of you a little fuzzy on the math, it's been almost six months since we've had a solid, four-hour stretch of sleep. Which leads me to the purpose of this post.
We go through steel-cut oats like you wouldn't believe. We have it for breakfast almost daily, which means I cook roughly two pounds a week. Bob's Red Mill is not exactly cheap -- $4.99 a lb. for the organic steel-cut oats, as opposed to $3.49 a lb. for the regular steel-cut oats. I was lamenting to one of my online groups about the high cost of grain, and someone suggested, "Why don't you see if it's cheaper to buy bulk?"
Oh. Well. Color me brain-dead.
Nature's Bin in Lakewood sells a 25-lb. bag of organic steel-cut oats for $21. Which translates to $.84 a lb vs. $4.99 a lb. I already buy all of our organic milk from Trader Joe's ($5.86 a gallon vs. $6.98 from Giant Eagle). I usually go once a month and freeze it, along with bread from the Pepperidge Farm outlet store.
So now we are looking at whether or not we need to invest in either a Costco or Sam's Club membership, and whether the membership cost will off-set our savings, especially since we try to eat as much organic food as possible and Sam's doesn't carry a whole lot of organics. Not to mention the cost of grass-fed beef and free range poultry.
Maybe we'll just cowshare and split a cow with someone. It's bound to be cheaper, I would think.
January 31, 2008
Growly Girl
Stella has started growling. A lot. Like there is a baby bear living in our house.
Most mornings I know she's awake because I hear her growling at the wall.
Most mornings I know she's awake because I hear her growling at the wall.
Picking Up Stitches
I'm almost finished with the Ruby Slippers for Stella, and I've figured out why the toes look so weird.
I'm picking up stitches incorrectly.
I've been using two needles instead of one, and it pulls the wool something fierce. Since Stella's feet are already almost too big for the infant size, I'm going to make another pair next size up.
The Irish Hiking Scarf really looks good, George has even commented on how nice it's turning out. Something like, "It looks like the sleeve on an Irish sweater." Oh, you mean like this? (The Aran Fishing Sweater is in my queue, should I ever work up enough nerve to do a sweater for myself.) I've finally memorized the scarf pattern, so it's that much easier to work on while I'm cooking dinner or listening to a book on CD with the boys.
Oh, and for those who've been asking, the bread turned out good. I made a second loaf, which was much better -- I added the roasted garlic before the bread proofed, so it was mixed throughout the loaf. The soup wasn't my best batch. I used Yellow Tail Cabernet-Shiraz blend, which just wasn't dry enough. Next time I must remember to go for a straight Cab, it seems to make the difference.
Too busy? Can't afford to waste any time? Then whatever you do, don't click here.
I'm picking up stitches incorrectly.
I've been using two needles instead of one, and it pulls the wool something fierce. Since Stella's feet are already almost too big for the infant size, I'm going to make another pair next size up.
The Irish Hiking Scarf really looks good, George has even commented on how nice it's turning out. Something like, "It looks like the sleeve on an Irish sweater." Oh, you mean like this? (The Aran Fishing Sweater is in my queue, should I ever work up enough nerve to do a sweater for myself.) I've finally memorized the scarf pattern, so it's that much easier to work on while I'm cooking dinner or listening to a book on CD with the boys.
Oh, and for those who've been asking, the bread turned out good. I made a second loaf, which was much better -- I added the roasted garlic before the bread proofed, so it was mixed throughout the loaf. The soup wasn't my best batch. I used Yellow Tail Cabernet-Shiraz blend, which just wasn't dry enough. Next time I must remember to go for a straight Cab, it seems to make the difference.
Too busy? Can't afford to waste any time? Then whatever you do, don't click here.
January 26, 2008
Baker
So I decided to bake some nice, crusty, peasant bread. And this is how it looks.
You can, too.
I roasted some garlic, chopped and added it to the dough before it rose, and the whole house smells fantastic. I'm making a triple batch of Italian Sausage Tortellini Soup today, and tonight we feast.
You can, too.
I roasted some garlic, chopped and added it to the dough before it rose, and the whole house smells fantastic. I'm making a triple batch of Italian Sausage Tortellini Soup today, and tonight we feast.
January 25, 2008
Superstar
So I'm watching the news today while I was getting dinner ready, and my parents were on the news.
Not in a COPS kind of way, one of the good ones.
Click Here to watch the video. (They're the second half of the story.)
Or click here to see the shorter version.
Not in a COPS kind of way, one of the good ones.
Click Here to watch the video. (They're the second half of the story.)
Or click here to see the shorter version.
January 21, 2008
Read Stella's Birth Story
OK, I've finally posted Stella's birth story, you can click here to read it.
Stella's Birth Story
Please note, it is not graphic, but it is the story of a natural birth, what it is really like. So if you're afraid, don't read it.
Stella's Birth Story
Please note, it is not graphic, but it is the story of a natural birth, what it is really like. So if you're afraid, don't read it.
January 18, 2008
Four Years
Once upon a time there lived a man and a woman. They loved each other very much, and they got married. Then they had a baby. And somehow that baby grew and got teeth and learned sign language and started walking and fell off the bed and learned to talk and is now counting down the days until he can go on the school bus.
Four years ago Friday, I gave birth to my first child. He weighed a little more than a bag of sugar. Light as a feather, yet the heaviest responsibility I have ever known. I look at his newborn picture, eyes tightly closed, left hand curled beneath his chin, I see the monkey-like face of an infant just as much as I see the the hazel-eyed preschooler that sits at the table inventing ways to ask for more food (oatmeal, not pot roast. Not liking the pot roast). I think of how he used to wake up every two hours at night, all night, until he was almost two. I remember him pulling himself up to nurse standing up in his crib, while I stood there, wanting to cry for lack of sleep.
But then, his face. Oh, the beautiful face of a child in the morning, smiling at his mother. Me with my unwashed hair, smudged glasses and no bath in two days (unless you count getting splashed while bathing him in the sink after a blowout diaper), and yet he looks at me as if I am the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. And smiles.
And now he's four and he begs me to go on the school bus. And I think of how time has sped up since his birth, how the seconds must be ticking by faster than they used to, because he is such a big boy. He wants to hold your hand before bed, but not every night. How long until there are no more bedtime stories, no more smooches, no more, "Mommy! I need to hold you."
So I cry, but I know I will be there for the journey. I will let go when the time calls for it, I will allow him the freedom to grow and learn and become a man. But the joy of seeing him grow will not come without a little sorrow.
Four days old
Four years old
Four years ago Friday, I gave birth to my first child. He weighed a little more than a bag of sugar. Light as a feather, yet the heaviest responsibility I have ever known. I look at his newborn picture, eyes tightly closed, left hand curled beneath his chin, I see the monkey-like face of an infant just as much as I see the the hazel-eyed preschooler that sits at the table inventing ways to ask for more food (oatmeal, not pot roast. Not liking the pot roast). I think of how he used to wake up every two hours at night, all night, until he was almost two. I remember him pulling himself up to nurse standing up in his crib, while I stood there, wanting to cry for lack of sleep.
But then, his face. Oh, the beautiful face of a child in the morning, smiling at his mother. Me with my unwashed hair, smudged glasses and no bath in two days (unless you count getting splashed while bathing him in the sink after a blowout diaper), and yet he looks at me as if I am the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. And smiles.
And now he's four and he begs me to go on the school bus. And I think of how time has sped up since his birth, how the seconds must be ticking by faster than they used to, because he is such a big boy. He wants to hold your hand before bed, but not every night. How long until there are no more bedtime stories, no more smooches, no more, "Mommy! I need to hold you."
So I cry, but I know I will be there for the journey. I will let go when the time calls for it, I will allow him the freedom to grow and learn and become a man. But the joy of seeing him grow will not come without a little sorrow.
Four days old
Four years old
January 17, 2008
Irish Hiking Scarf
So the Irish Hiking Scarf is coming along quite nicely.
Closeup of the cables:
Unknitting (AKA "tinking") has really come in handy, as I knit the wrong side and had to rip back, but didn't have to frog the whole thing. So far, so good.
I intended that this would be a scarf for George, but I don't know if it's going to be wide enough; I may need to find a bulkier wool or use larger needles if it seems too narrow. We'll see what he thinks; I'm sure that someone else could use it if he decides he doesn't like it.
Closeup of the cables:
Unknitting (AKA "tinking") has really come in handy, as I knit the wrong side and had to rip back, but didn't have to frog the whole thing. So far, so good.
I intended that this would be a scarf for George, but I don't know if it's going to be wide enough; I may need to find a bulkier wool or use larger needles if it seems too narrow. We'll see what he thinks; I'm sure that someone else could use it if he decides he doesn't like it.
January 16, 2008
Stash Photography
So Fetching is finished, and I'm not thrilled with the thumbs, but they are warm and wearable. I need to dig out my tripod and take some photos, I just don't seem to have time when there's decent natural light around.
A lot of my stash & object photos do not look very good, as I am not what you would call photographically inclined. I see some of the most amazing FO and yarn photos on Ravelry... lo and behold, there is a Ravelry group specifically for these people! I browsed some of the messages and got a few good tips on making my stuff look less... well, 'flashy.'
Oh, and I taught myself how to unknit today! I am so proud, I'm going around unknitting everything in sight. No more frogging-the-whole-thing-because-I-had-a-yarn-over-somewhere. I am so happy, especially since this Irish Hiking Scarf requires attention while knitting.
A lot of my stash & object photos do not look very good, as I am not what you would call photographically inclined. I see some of the most amazing FO and yarn photos on Ravelry... lo and behold, there is a Ravelry group specifically for these people! I browsed some of the messages and got a few good tips on making my stuff look less... well, 'flashy.'
Oh, and I taught myself how to unknit today! I am so proud, I'm going around unknitting everything in sight. No more frogging-the-whole-thing-because-I-had-a-yarn-over-somewhere. I am so happy, especially since this Irish Hiking Scarf requires attention while knitting.
January 11, 2008
Which is more 'Fetching?'
I'm finished with the left mitt, and about 30% done with the right one.
Sweetie Pea was happy to see Daddy today.
Sweetie Pea was happy to see Daddy today.
December 31, 2007
Fetching
No time to post details, but I'm working on these lovely handwarmers, my first attempt at cabling. So far, so good.
December 25, 2007
Ho ho ho
Merry Christmas!
I finished my Teeny Tiny Ornaments, which turned out great, if I may say so.
Christmas was fun and virtually stress-free (due to choices, of course), with only a few minor meltdowns on behalf of the boys. It appears that their favorite presents are their guitars, the basketball hoop, and the "Lone Ranger" stick horses. They are hilarious, running around with their cowboy hats and badges from Grandpa Lenny & Grandma Tina.
I finished my Teeny Tiny Ornaments, which turned out great, if I may say so.
Christmas was fun and virtually stress-free (due to choices, of course), with only a few minor meltdowns on behalf of the boys. It appears that their favorite presents are their guitars, the basketball hoop, and the "Lone Ranger" stick horses. They are hilarious, running around with their cowboy hats and badges from Grandpa Lenny & Grandma Tina.
December 24, 2007
So This is Christmas
One of the few photos of Stella & me where I don't look hungover from lack of sleep. Oh, and I am actually wearing makeup. (I haven't worn makeup since late August!)
May your day be merry and bright.
May your day be merry and bright.
December 22, 2007
Hard times
These past few weeks have been very difficult on me emotionally. My Granny H died ten years ago on the 14th, and today would have been Grandma & Grandpa T's wedding anniversary. Ethan reminds me of my Granny H, they even have the same laugh:
(This is from when he was about seven months old.)
Thoughts of family that have passed away invariably make me think of my mom. Although I am sure it was extremely difficult, she took care of Granny H for a very long time until the cancer became too much and hospice was the only option. I don't know if I ever told her how much I respect her for what she did. I hope someday to get the chance.
I have been studying the theme of reconciliation in the Bible, and I finally have come to an understanding of why I struggle so greatly with my relationship with my mom. Back in the Old Testament, Joseph's brothers hate him and decide to sell him into slavery. They tell their father, Jacob, that Joseph was attacked and killed by wild animals (nice, huh?). Fast forward seven years, and there stand 7 of Joseph's 10 brothers, bowing before him and begging for food because of the famine in their land.
Joseph could have immediately made his identity known to his brothers. He could have sent them away without even speaking to them (and why would he, after the way he had been treated?). But instead, he lays a test before them. He hides a golden cup in Benjamin's bag, then "finds" it and accuses him of stealing. (Granted, Joseph just wanted to keep his brother near him, not actually throw him into prison).
The reasoning behind this charade was to find out if his brothers had changed their hearts. Judah, the one who had hated Joseph the most, begged to be exchanged for his brother. He showed Joseph that he had *truly* changed his ways and was worthy of reconciliation.
This quote from a study of the Torah sums the whole thing up nicely:
(This is from when he was about seven months old.)
Thoughts of family that have passed away invariably make me think of my mom. Although I am sure it was extremely difficult, she took care of Granny H for a very long time until the cancer became too much and hospice was the only option. I don't know if I ever told her how much I respect her for what she did. I hope someday to get the chance.
I have been studying the theme of reconciliation in the Bible, and I finally have come to an understanding of why I struggle so greatly with my relationship with my mom. Back in the Old Testament, Joseph's brothers hate him and decide to sell him into slavery. They tell their father, Jacob, that Joseph was attacked and killed by wild animals (nice, huh?). Fast forward seven years, and there stand 7 of Joseph's 10 brothers, bowing before him and begging for food because of the famine in their land.
Joseph could have immediately made his identity known to his brothers. He could have sent them away without even speaking to them (and why would he, after the way he had been treated?). But instead, he lays a test before them. He hides a golden cup in Benjamin's bag, then "finds" it and accuses him of stealing. (Granted, Joseph just wanted to keep his brother near him, not actually throw him into prison).
The reasoning behind this charade was to find out if his brothers had changed their hearts. Judah, the one who had hated Joseph the most, begged to be exchanged for his brother. He showed Joseph that he had *truly* changed his ways and was worthy of reconciliation.
This quote from a study of the Torah sums the whole thing up nicely:
The story teaches that repentance and forgiveness are essential to reconciliation. But the key to convincing the other side that reconciliation is possible is to give an unequivocal sign of turning one's back on the past.I hope someday that we can reconcile and have an honest, open relationship. I hope my children are able to have as great of a relationship with their grandparents as I did with mine.
Fighting over nothing
The boys were playing in the hallway this morning when they erupted into their fifth dust-up of the day (and it wasn't even 9AM). I rounded the corner, ready to don my referee stripes, and asked Ethan to give me the toy they were arguing over. I opened my palm and he handed me...
Nothing.
Literally. They were fighting over a pretend water bottle. Georgie said, "But it's MY turn to drink!"
I nearly cried, both from the sheer stupidity and the sheer creativity of the situation. I have never known children to argue over something that doesn't even exist.
Nothing.
Literally. They were fighting over a pretend water bottle. Georgie said, "But it's MY turn to drink!"
I nearly cried, both from the sheer stupidity and the sheer creativity of the situation. I have never known children to argue over something that doesn't even exist.
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