When You Are A Mother

When you are a mother, you are never really alone in your thoughts. A mother always has to think twice, once for herself and once for her child.

~Sophia Loren, Women and Beauty

The Second Time Around

So we are a few months away from bringing another member of our family into this world. Pregnancy has treated me well so far (knock on wood), with the exception of feeling much bigger the second time around--and from the get-go. Positive pregnancy stick = immediate baby bump. I told a friend of mine recently that I didn't think it was emotionally healthy for me to check myself out in the mirror too hard--most especially the rear view, after a shower, for example. YIKES. As I was lamenting the other day, a colleague reminded me that it would be a problem if I were NOT getting bigger. Always nice to put everything in perspective. That's right. It's not all about me. It's about the peanut--who seems to be growing juuuuuust fine.

I have been fortunate to be able to wear the exact same maternity clothes as last time because (1) it's the same season of pregnancy give or take a month and (2) the clothes are still in style because pregnancy #1 was in 07-08. This has certainly helped the family budget. Plus I wasn't nearly as excited about panel-pants this time around as I was last. Actually I'm not really into panel pants at all--there are very cool pregnancy "belly bands" that allow one to stay in her pre-pregnancy pants for quite awhile because the "bands" cover the unzipped zipper and hold everything in place. Fantastic invention...especially the ones with the cute lace at the bottom to make it seem as if you're wearing a lace cami under your shirt.

While the pregnancy itself seems about the same, I most certainly am NOT the same. Much more laid back, I am enjoying just. being. pregnant. I really like to park in "Expectant Mother Parking." And guess what? Second time around = less guilt using those parking spaces because you show sooner. During my first pregnancy I kept my nose in books such as "What To Expect..." yadda yadda yadda. Embroyo. Got it. Fetus. Got it. Statements like "I will TRY to breastfeed and see how it goes." Try to breastfeed? How silly and naive that sounds now, knowing all that I know. I will breastfeed and we will be successful. This time around I am less concerned with figuring out which day each little cell is being formed and what color to make the nursery. All of that was very fun, exciting, and new. But this time I am more concerned about who this in my tummy, what he/she might be like as a person, what our first moments together will be like, whether or not I'll forget what it feels like to have a human moving around in my body. And maybe, a toddler running around is a little distracting, too. But because this could be my last pregnancy (I'm no spring chicken), I am really trying to enjoy the blessing and miracle that it is and remain calm and focused on the task at hand...grow the peanut safely and for as long as possible. My water broke 2 1/2 weeks before my due date with my first child. We'll see what happens the second time around.

Speaking of the peanut, we decided not to find out the gender. The first time around, in the flurry of nursery decorating and registering for scads of gifts we didn't need, it wasn't even a question. We found out. This time around, we're saving it for just us, in the delivery room--the kind of hold-your-breath excitement that we don't often get to experience in this impatient tell-me-yesterday kind of world we live in. Instant gratification--not the second time around. How about in 40-ish weeks?

Oh and speaking of NOT finding out...this creates all KINDS of responses. A lot of dads offer a high-five "way-to-go" sort of response. Most women don't seem to understand. How can you not find out? Don't you want to know? I couldn't do that. It's actually kind of fun to annoy people in this way. And because I teach high school, the students are very curious about what the name choices might be, when the baby is due and...why are we not finding out!?! Because our home is up for sale, I'm not itching to decorate a new nursery. And even if our home were not up for sale (not sold yet...sigh), I think I would still feel the same way. Like I told another with-child friend of mine, when the baby is born, all he/she needs is me. And of course, daddy--but uh...daddy doesn't provide the meals. And as I recall, not a whole lot of sleeping is done outside of someone's arms the first few weeks, and check! Got those.

A second pregnancy is a great example of the opposite of "If I knew then what I know now..." I actually feel like I get to put some amazing experience and knowledge in to practice. I often say to myself, or husband, or friend "This time I will..." or "This time we should consider..." Like I would prefer our hospital room to not be grand central station. While some people might find this offensive or selfish, I recognize the miracle of the precious, amazing minutes and hours post birth that I would like to be just ours--my husband's and mine--not to mention February germs and a mother's need to recover and rest and the baby's need to learn how to nurse. This time I would like to wear my baby more. I was intimidated and a little frightened of my Peanut Shell sling with Drew, and yet it was one of the most useful parts of early motherhood when I finally learned how to use it. I need to purchase a Mobi Wrap (one of very few "products" I would like to splurge on) because it can be used with such young infants. Already used the Ergo with the first--it's ready and waiting to be strapped on again....see how easy this is the second time around? Actually? Just kidding. Will there be surprises and challenges? Every day, I'm sure. Will bonding with a second child while nurturing #1 be difficult? Absolutely. Will there be tears? Many and probably often (damn post-pregnancy hormones).

Yet...I'm so excited...about the second time around.

Scalloped Harvest Potatoes

Yum, yum, and more yum. So Thanksgiving is coming up. I love mashed potatoes and gravy, but if you want to switch things up a bit, Turkey Day would be a great day to debut this recipe. Or a cold, rainy Saturday afternoon. Or your mom is in town. Or a snow day. Or...

So this is yet another recipe that shouldn't be in your weekly repetoire simply because of the calorie and rich-ingredient content. And this is NOT the recipe to try to make lower-fat due to a necessary texture that can't be replicated with low-fat dairy products.

The OTHER important detail I must touch on is Penzey's Spices. I happen to be lucky enough to live within a 15 minute drive from a store. You can certainly buy their spices online, but it's so convenient to be able to run out and grab a little jar of their deliciousness. Sure, you can substitute, and I'm sure your recipe will turn out delicious, but I'm convinced that for THIS recipe, Penzey's is the way to go, at least in terms of the Chicken Soup Base--probably my most favorite Penzey's product.

Alright, enough of Penzey's...on to the recipe!

Scalloped Harvest Potatoes

2 lbs baking potatoes (russet)
2 c half & half
2 c heavy cream
1 tablespoon Penzey's Chicken Soup Base*
1 tsp garlic powder
1 tsp onion powder
1/8 tsp rubbed sage**
1 8 oz. package Parmegiano-Reggiano cheese, grated
Salt and pepper to taste

*If you cannot get your hands on this Penzey's product, substitute one or two cubes of chicken boullion.

**I add a pretty big "pinch" -- none of this 1/8 tsp. stuff. I like to taste the ingredients :)

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Grease a 9 x 13 baking dish with butter or spray. In large pot, heat half & half, heavy cream, Chicken Soup Base, garlic powder, onion powder, and sage over medium heat. Warm until the soup base is completely dissolved, whisk as necessary. Cut potatoes into slices. Layer 1/3 potatoes in bottom of pan. Sprinkle with parmesan cheese, salt and pepper. Repeat for a second layer. Repeat for a third layer. Pour cream mixture over potatoes. Dot with butter for extra goodness (and calories). Bake for 60 minutes or until potatoes can easily be pierced with a fork and a brown crust begins to form around the edges and on top. Serves 8-10. (Or serves 4 with lots and lots of fabulous leftovers!)

Homemade Alfredo Sauce

A long, long, long time ago (someone just mentioned "15 years ago" on my Facebook page) I found a homemade alfredo recipe in our local newspaper...my hometown Jacksonville Journal Courier. Every Wednesday the JJC had a food/recipe section that I couldn't wait to get my hands on. This Alfredo Sauce recipe has stood the test of time.

Now, the original recipe called for heavy cream, full-fat cream cheese, and 6-8 cloves of garlic. I know, I know...serious garlic. I have since refined the recipe to be a little more to my liking and a little (very little) more heart-healthy. This is not the type of sauce one would want to serve weekly, or maybe not even monthly. But, moderation...blah blah blah. Sometimes it's so good to be bad.

Here's how to be bad:

Homemade Alfredo Sauce

2 cups half-n-half
1 8 oz. block of 1/3 less fat cream cheese
1/2 cup to 1 cup (or more) grated parmesan cheese
1/2 to 1 teaspoon garlic powder
Salt to taste

Instructions:

In a heavy saucepan, add the half-n-half and begin to heat over medium. Add one half (4 ounces) of the cream cheese. Stir frequently with a whisk to melt the cream cheese. Add parmesan cheese and garlic powder. Continue to heat until cheeses are melted, and sauce is smooth.

Again, I pretty much made up the above measurements, because I like to experiment until I'm satisfied. So taste, stir, add more (in SMALL increments) of any of the above ingredients. More half-n-half will result in thinner sauce. More cream cheese...thicker sauce.

Note: you can use fresh garlic, but even when I put it through a garlic press, it still leaves little pieces in the sauce for a texture I'm not fond of.

As always, this is a sauce that is open to MANY variations:

• Sometimes I add some basil pesto for a pretty green Pesto-Alfredo sauce. You can buy pre-made, delicious pesto in almost any grocery store. I like the "Classico" brand. Add a couple of tablespoons to start, then taste and add more if necessary.

• "Classico" also makes a Roasted Tomato pesto, for a rose-colored tomato-y tasting alfredo sauce.

• Finally, one of my FAVORITE variations: Roasted Red Pepper alfredo. Add a few roasted red peppers (again, you can buy this product in jar at the grocery store) and use a hand-blender to mix into the alfredo sauce. LOVELY over cheese ravioli.

Finally, feel free to use the full-fat versions mentioned above, but don't hold me responsible for your cholesterol levels. I just made the recipe last night with heavy cream instead of half-n-half, because I was trying to use up cream before it expired. My husband RAVED about last night's Alfredo Sauce a little more than usual.

White Chicken Chili

With the crisp autumn weather in full effect, there is no better time to have something warm and filling to feast on. The following recipe is such an easy one-pot, low-prep, low-stress meal.

White Chicken Chili

1 rotisserie chicken, meat pulled off bones and coarsely chopped
1 block (at least 8 oz) jalapeno-jack cheese, grated
1 or 2 jars Northern beans (white beans)
1 or 2 jars salsa (mild, medium, or hot)
Salt to taste

Optional: half-n-half, tortilla chips, sour cream, cilantro

There you have the basics. Now, I apologize for the lack of exact measurements. That's not the type of cook I am unless I am baking, where I respect every detail of a recipe. The measurements also depend on your palate and the quantity of WCC that you wish to cook. I'm not a big bean person, so I prefer fewer beans and more chicken. I also like a creamier chili, so I tend to add more cheese and half-n-half. Hot salsa adds a really nice element of flavor to this recipe. There is not much "bite" left once everything is added in. Luckily, you can't really mess this up (unless you BURN it). Take it slow the first time. Make notes. The payoff will be worth it.

INSTRUCTIONS: In a large stock pot, add 1 jar of Northern Beans (beans AND liquid) and chopped chicken. Begin to heat over medium. Add 1 jar of salsa, and at least 8 oz. cheese. Allow cheese to melt, stirring frequently and adjusting heat as necessary. Study the consistency and try a taste. Add more cheese or some half-n-half if you prefer a creamier chili. Make sure to add the half-n-half gradually. You can always add more, but can't remove it! Continue to taste, stir, and add as needed. Shouldn't take long and you'll have a fresh pot of chili on the stove.

Eat as is, or top with sour cream and/or cilantro. If you have no clean spoons, use tortilla chips to feed yourself :)

Buddies

Buddies
(written by my father)

Morning
I awaken to the sound of
a friendly voice
not so far away
soon followed
by the National Anthem
nice beginning but
must do
those morning things
shaving
washing hair
that are always at least
mildly aggravating
but oh so necessary
if I am to face the day
with confidence
Yes quickly!
I hear little
footsteps
and a little voice
says
Daddy I can't sleep anymore
Buddies!
downstairs
we find
breakfast
nothing fancy
cereal
toast
perhaps a glass of
juice
or if it's Sunday
we might be the earliest
to arrive
at Hojo's
then a walk
in the new sunlight
a deep drink of
fresh air
the sweet song of
a cardinal
perched high
in a nearby tree
she goes her way
and I go mine
but only for awhile
soon we'll be together
again
it's great to be
Buddies

That is a poem that my father wrote about us oh-so-many years ago. I don't think I had my own copy until I was 19 years old, studying abroad in Mexico my sophomore year in college. My dad periodically sent me care packages of newspaper clippings from the States, letters about the goings-on in his day-to-day life, and some copies of poems he had written over the years--all reading material he thought I'd find interesting and a remedy to any homesickness I may have been feeling.

In any case, it has been years since I read the poem, but because my husband and I have our house up for sale, we have been cleaning and organizing like mad. And I came across this poem. And I cried when I read it. Then I cried as I was typing it into this blog. But the tears have nothing to do with the fact that my father and I are no longer "buddies." Unfortunately, he suffers from mental illness which makes it impossible for us to communicate in any "normal" sort of way or to have any resemblance of a normal father-daughter relationship. But that is life. People get sick, sad things happen. The sadness and frustration from the situation has numbed over the years. I hold on to many fond memories that I am lucky to have. ANYWAY...Nope. That's not why I'm so weepy. And it's not because I'm pregnant again and my hormones are raging all over the place, either.

I'm weepy out of sheer joy. Because when I read that poem I think of my husband and our son. They are buddies. And it is so dang heartwarming. In the morning when Mike has to do his "mildly aggravating" routine, there Drew is peeping into the shower, hoping to get a little laugh and a splash from Daddy. Or a little "pssht" of deodorant. Or a dollop of shaving cream on the nose that results in a joyous giggle. There they are...MY buddies.

"Me" Time

My husband and I recently took our first overnight trip together post-baby. At 16 months old, our baby isn't so much a baby anymore, though. I knew it would be emotionally difficult for me, because, again, this was the first time that both Mommy and Daddy would be gone ALL NIGHT. Luckily, my own mother drove 7+ hours from Illinois just to give us the gift of a night away. It made it much easier for me knowing that Drew was in his own house sleeping in his own bed with all of his own things in their regular spots. Some people might be thinking--wow, 16 months and you haven't left your child for even one night yet--that's a little extreme. Others might be thinking--wow, 16 months--I could never leave my child that young. My own mom didn't leave me even one time overnight until she was in the hospital giving birth to my sister...almost five years to the day that I had been born. So we all have our own ways of doing things and like I tell other friends expecting for the first time: you have to do what feels right to you. Lots of people are ready to offer their advice--sometimes you'll shake your head in acknowledgment knowing that their "expertise" will never come in handy for you. Sometimes you'll want to take out a pad of paper and a pencil because everything that the person is saying feels like just what you need. But I digress...

So off to Chicago my husband and I went--on the train. Ridin' the rails. How lovely it was that neither of us had the stress of driving, especially in Chicago traffic. Nor did we have to pay for parking at our hotel, which usually involves either expensive valet service at the rate of $50 per day--or a parking garage several blocks away which still runs $25 or more. Not to mention navigating a city that neither of us knows well. And once there, you don't need a car anyway. I had ridden the train to Chicago before, but I had forgotten how very easy and relaxing it is. There is SO MUCH room. Even my 6'4" husband had plenty of room to stretch out. Also, there is quite a lack of "red tape" to go through to get on the train--no security checks, long lines, etc. Your luggage is either with you or a few feet away. It's almost scary to think of how loose on security it is, so I try not to think about it. I don't know how long that will go on, but it's nice while it lasts. As we waited for the train to arrive and heard its whistle signaling its near proximity, I fantasized that it was 100 years earlier and I was wearing a petticoat and Mike was wearing a suit and hat. I refrained from snapping any pictures as the train arrived lest I really look like a tourist.

We stayed downtown on Michigan Avenue within a few blocks of where the Magnificent Mile shopping began in one direction and a few blocks from Millenium Park in the other direction. We arrived with no set plans about what activities we would do so we window-shopped on the first day, went out to a nice Italian dinner in the evening, and marveled at the art in Millenium Park in the evening. It is a very strange feeling to be able to come and go as you please with no worries about a little one. I had to restrain myself from calling home too much, but it wasn't difficult because each time I did call Drew was doing wonderfully, and Grandma sounded like she was having fun, so I relaxed more and more. On our second day, we visited the Museum of Science and Industry in the morning and Shedd's Aquarium in the afternoon. I've had enough musuems for a while.

During our trip we marveled at the skyscrapers, noting how urban Grand Rapids' skyline had appeared until we came to Chicago. I'm sure it was easy to pick us out as tourists given that we walked with our eyes to the sky for the majority of the trip. I love to get away to urban areas, to get myself a little culture, but I am always thankful that the hustle-and-bustle, bus fumes, and stopped traffic are not my way of life. I was also fascinated that Mike mentioned on several occasions how fun whatever we were doing at the time (riding train, staying in swanky hotel, eating in fine restaurant, exploring museum) would be for our kids when they are a little older. It's a given that Mike will introduce our children to nature, fishing, camping, hunting, etc. as early as he possibly can, so I'm so glad that my outdoorsman husband is excited to expose our kids to the city someday. How awesome that he realizes the importance of teaching that there are more ways to live than what we find in West Michigan.

By the time we got on the train in the evening of our second day, I thought my feet were going to fall off. It has been a long time since I've stood for such extended periods of time and walked so far in two days. But luckily, it was time to stretch out and enjoy the scenery for our trip home. By the time we arrived, Drew had been fast asleep for a few hours. Being in his presence, I felt complete. I think back to pre-pregnancy and the travel I used to do. Traveling abroad with students, a "girls weekend" here and there, a summer roadtrip with my husband, and my annual spring break cruises with my mom--these were all things that used to be major priorities. I used to say--oh, I'll never give up "me" time. I'm not going to be one of "those" mothers. Of course I'll still go on spring break. Drew can stay with Grandma for a week. Oops. I was wrong. My "me" time now consists of grocery shopping, going to the gym, or when I really spoil myself: dinner out with a girlfriend. Maybe not as glamorous, but there will be time for more exciting travels someday. Of course I miss those experiences, but oh how I would miss my time with my son so much more.

Chocolate Strawberry Shortcake

Oh the joys of fresh summer fruit. Even better if you hand-pick it yourself. So I was particularly fascinated to fall upon this recipe in the Food Network Magazine. My mom and I are always searching for the perfect "shortcake" to accompany summer strawberries, and this is the first chocolate shortcake recipe I have come across.

Before I tried the recipe, I wanted to purchase the cocoa from Penzey's (my favorite spice store). I also used their vanilla extract, which I already had on hand. I chose Ghiradelli's Luxe chocolate bar for the 3 oz. of chopped milk chocolate--it handily came packaged in a 3 oz. size.

In the initial trial of the recipe, I skipped #3 and #4, and opted to simply slice up some fresh strawberries and whip the remainder of the heavy cream into homemade whipping cream (added a little vanilla and powdered sugar to taste). However, I think those steps sound delightful and will try them when I make the shortcakes again. Having just picked fresh raspberries, I was thinking that these shortcakes might also be delicious substituting the raspberries for the strawberries. For dark chocolate lovers, why not substitute dark chocolate for the milk chocolate? Then I searched the internet for chocolate whipped cream and found easy recipes for that as well as liquer-flavored whipped cream (like Chambord--oh how exquisite!).

The shortcakes tasted very chocolately--but not too sweet. They were in a word: perfect. I loved the biscuity-cakey texture. I would make them just to eat plain--or maybe topped with vanilla ice cream or a raspberry sorbet, should fresh fruit not be available (like in the winter). BUT, if you have the time, try them out while there is still fresh fruit!

Chocolate Strawberry Shortcakes
June/July 2009 Food Network Magazine

Shortcakes:
1 cup AP flour, plus more for dusting
1/3 cup granulated sugar
2 T. dutch-process cocoa powder
3/4 t. baking powder
1/4 t. salt
4 T. cold, unsalted butter, cut into pieces
3 oz. milk chocolate, roughly chopped
2 large eggs
1/4 c. heavy cream
1 t. vanilla extract
Raw sugar for sprinkling

Toppings:
1 quart strawberries, hulled and sliced
1/4 c. granulated sugar
1 cup heavy cream

1. Position a rack in the middle of the oven; preheat to 400 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Make the shortcakes: whisk the flour, granulated sugar, cocoa, baking powder, and salt in a large bowl. Using your fingers, rub the butter into the flour mixture until sandy. Add the chocolate. Whisk 1 egg, the cream and vanilla in a glass measuring cup; stir into the flour mixture with a fork to make a shaggy dough (there will be some dry bits). Turn out onto a lightly floured surface; pat flat until 1 1/2 inches thick. cut into 6 rounds with a knife or cookie cutter, using the scraps for the last cake.

2. Place the rounds on the baking sheet; freeze for 20 minutes. Beat the remaining egg; brush onto cakes and sprinkle with raw sugar. Bake until firm, about 20 minutes. Transfer to rack to cool.

3. Meanwhile, make the toppings: Toss half of the strawberries with half of the sugar in a bowl; set aside. Place the other half of each in a saucepan; cook over medium-low heat, mashing with a fork to make a thick puree, about 10 minutes. Cool completely. Whip the cream with a mixer until medium peaks form; swirl in the strawberry puree.

4. Split the shortcakes in half. Layer some of the strawberry cream and reserved fruit on the bottoms; cover with the shortcake tops. Finish with more berries and cream.

Chicken Caesar Pasta Salad

Goodness. I have been procrastinating posting this recipe simply because I do not how to spell Caesar. When I googled the word, there were at least five different spellings. So I decided to go with the spelling that the Little Caesar’s Pizza place uses, and guess what? It does NOT show up as misspelled in Microsoft Word. So it must be right...right?

Anyway, I once ate this salad at a potluck-type of meal provided for a hospitality room at a cheer competition. Apparently the cheer mom who made the salad is famous for it—I want to be famous, too! The main ingredients are simple: chicken, romaine lettuce, pasta, croutons and caesar dressing. I had never really contemplated mixing lettuce with pasta before, but it is a nice mixture of texture—especially if the lettuce is fresh and crunchy. Really, if you just mix the main ingredients together, you could take it to the table—that was the original salad that I sampled and decided I must someday duplicate.

However, in an effort to make the recipe “mine,” I experimented by adding other ingredients, which I think complemented the whole idea and made it quite a sassy little dish.

Main ingredients:
Romaine lettuce
Chopped/shredded chicken (I used rotisserie, but grilled would be great)
Boiled pasta (I used bow-tie, because I think they are cute)
Caesar dressing to taste (My fave brand: Litehouse Caesar Caesar)
Croutons

Other possibilities:
Toasted pine nuts (toast in dry pan until golden)
Shaved parmesan cheese (can buy shaved in grocery store)
Chopped red/yellow bell pepper
Chopped Genoa salami
Sweet grape tomatoes
Freshly ground pepper

Other tips:
• Depending on how many you are feeding, you will have to experiment with measurements. The pasta box will give you a good idea of serving sizes for the pasta portion.

• Make sure to SALT your pasta water—should taste like ocean-water, I learned on the Food Network channel one time. This is your only opportunity to season your pasta!

• Add salad dressing a little at a time—no need to drown the salad, hide all the good flavors, or add extra calories unnecessarily!

Sex and the City -- Still a Fan!

I'm a Sex and the City fan. I watched it on HBO when new episodes were still being aired, long before it was syndicated and showing on TBS every night. I cried when Carrie and Aiden broke up the first time, then I cried again when they broke up the second time. I own all of the seasons on DVD. Drew is not allowed to watch them--ever. But that's not the point of this post.

This past weekend, I decided to watch a season's worth of episodes. I chose Season Five for no particular reason and whenever Drew was napping or down for the night, I watched an episode or two until I was all done. Well, I have a new-found respect for the show's writers/producers because of how they portrayed breastfeeding. Many episodes in Season Five depict Miranda's trials and tribulations in her new role as a mother. In one episode, she is stressed out because Brady, her son, won't latch on. The writers very naturally and smoothly incorporated breastfeeding vocabulary into the conversation in a very real situation that many mothers experience. In another episode, Miranda takes a weekend trip to Atlantic City, and in the middle of the casino, she mentions that she's tired and it's time for her to pump. So very clever how the writers incorporated the idea that one can still be a working mother who is a successful New York attorney, take a weekend trip with her girlfriends, and still be committed to giving her child the best form of nourishment that exists. In yet another episode, the baby's father, Steve, asks Miranda if her nipples are sore. And the conversation again is natural, caring, and completely appropriate. And it fits seamlessly into the story line. I watched the whole Season Five and failed to see one bottle. I don't know if any of this was done purposefully or not, but kudos to the writers of one of my favorite shows. I love it even more now!

The Scent of a Memory

*sniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiffffffffffffffff* I don’t really know how to spell the sound you make when you breathe deeply in an effort to take in a glorious scent, but at 3:15 p.m. today, when I left the school building to walk to my car, that is the sound I was making. Today was the first cutting of the school lawn. As soon as I exited the door, the sweet, sweet smell of fresh-cut grass was all about me. Fresh-cut grass is what the color green smells like. Not forest-green or sea-green, just pure green. And since we have had an abundance of spring rain lately, the smell was even sweeter than I remembered it. Or course, it’s really no mystery--the greener the grass, the sweeter the smell.

For me, aromas really trigger some great memories. For instance, fresh-cut-grass-smell reminds me of carefree childhood days rollerskating down the street and long ago high school dance team tryouts (they always took place in the springtime). Today the smell reminded me that my stress will very soon decrease from ten to zero, since I am fortunate to enjoy summer vacation. It also got me thinking about my other favorite aromas and how they connect to important experiences or simply make me smile. Here are some more of my favorites (in no particular order):

Warm, fresh corn tortillas: There is nothing quite like the earthy smell of freshly made corn tortillas—a warm, comforting aroma of toasted masa (the traditional tortilla dough made from ground up fire-roasted corn soaked in limewater). That smell takes me right back to my semester in Mexico when I was so young, but thought I was so old, and I did things that I would never do now (like eat tacos from a street vendor set up in a tin box with no running water). You can imitate the fresh-corn-tortilla smell to about 80% accuracy by heating some store-bought corn tortillas in the microwave, but the true smell can only be enjoyed by standing nearby when a corn tortilla has just been pulled off the griddle. Having lived in Mexico City for a semester my sophomore year in college, I know the true delight of actually doing just that. And here in the States there are certainly plenty of cities that have tortillerías (a tortilla shop where people make and sell them), as well as some restaurants that make their own tortillas in-house.

Pampers Swaddlers diapers: It’s only the Swaddlers smell that I really adore. Pre-motherhood, I had no idea such a sweet, delicate smell could even exist. The smell is in the neighborhood of baby powder, but so much better. That extraordinary smell reminds me of the first days of Drew’s life both in the hospital and at home. ***There is a chance that I might have saved a Swaddler diaper in a Ziploc bag just so I could open it sometimes and take a whiff down memory lane.*** Unfortunately, Pampers doesn’t make Swaddlers diapers in all sizes, so once your baby outgrows them, you’re out of luck if you love the scent as much as I do. Thank goodness Drew started in the “N” size (for Newborn), so we got to enjoy Swaddlers all the way through size 2 before making the switch. The other Pampers diapers smell nice, but not all cuddly and gentle and newborn-y. If we are blessed to have a second child, I would like to try cloth diapers, but not until after he/she would grow out of the Swaddlers. Just can’t give up that smell!


Puppy Breath: For non-animal people this probably sounds gross, but puppy breath has the cutest, most adorable scent. Unfortunately, it disappears with age. And I’m not a big fan of adult-dog breath. I didn’t grow up with a dog and would never have considered myself a dog-person…until I met Timber, our chocolate lab. It was a sad day when Timber lost his puppy breath. Sort of like Drew outgrowing his Pamper Swaddler diapers. Sigh.

Bumble & Bumble Hair-Thickening Conditioner: The shampoo smells the same, but the conditioner smell really lingers on your hands and in your hair. I always goo up my hair with the conditioner and then put my hands right by my nose and inhale deeply before rinsing them. I had never revealed that shower ritual until my younger sister had visited and used it at my house. She gushed about how much she loved the smell of it, too, so I decided my conditioner-smelling-ritual wasn’t so crazy after all. The memory linked to this is San Diego visiting my sister-in-law. That’s where I was when I first smelled the stuff. Imagine—an aroma so wonderful you remember where you are when you first smell it.

Starbucks coffee: I love the smell when you walk in the door—it says, “Everything is going to be just fine as soon as your Grande Non-fat Mocha w/ Whip is in your hands.” The aroma is only slightly better if it is wafting into my car, because that means that I am sitting at the drive-thru window and I didn’t even have to get out of my car to get my treat. Enough said.

Lake Michigan: Lake Michigan has a fresh, clean, salt-free-water smell. It smells like the ocean, minus the salty bite! You can smell it a little inland when the wind is just right, and that smell makes me want to drop what I'm doing and head straight for the beach. I moved to West Michigan a couple of years after I started teaching, and lived right by the lake. I lived in some GREAT places. The first house I rented was right on a lake that connected to Lake Michigan via a short channel. Then, I even got to live right across the street from the Lake Michigan. There was the old condo I rented, the road, and then the beach. Sunsets every single night. You can imagine the despair I experienced when the condo needed serious renovation and the owner decided to renovate and then double the rent. Bye bye. So very sad.

I don't live nearly as close to Lake Michigan as I used to, so I don't get my daily fix. However, I drive to the beach as frequently as possible. Smelling Lake Michigan is the closest thing to feeling like I'm "home" other than actually driving home to Illinois, where I grew up.

Breastfeeding Survival Kit

Recently I read another blogger’s ideal Breastfeeding Survival Kit. She asked at the end: What would be in your ideal breastfeeding kit? Although I am not breastfeeding anymore, I still have friends who breastfeed and friends who will (hopefully!) breastfeed soon, so I thought I would post my ideal Breastfeeding Survival Kit items here:

1. Breastfeeding books. The two most dear to my heart: So That's What They're For by Janet Tamaro and Breastfeeding With Comfort and Joy by Laura Keegan, R.N., F.N.P. I would recommend reading and re-reading many times over before baby is born. You’ll have much more time before baby arrives.

And honestly, you’ll read it over and over and you’ll hear it from lactation consultants: if the baby is latched-on properly, it shouldn’t be painful. So read and re-read the information about proper latch-on!

2. Water. I have read that water really does help milk supply and production, and I have also read that it doesn’t make a huge difference. I did feel like it made a difference for me—I felt like I had a better supply when I was most hydrated.

3. Lactation cookies and necessary ingredients on hand. What breastfeeding mother isn’t hungry AND who doesn’t love cookies? Cookies that help you lactate as well? Enough said. You can find the recipe here.

4. Phone numbers/emails of people who can help and support you:

Make sure you have at least one friend who values breastfeeding as much, if not more, than you do. She MUST be your go-to person when you are struggling. There are too many people out there who are willing to praise you for the good job you did as they support you through quitting. You need different peer pressure—you need a personal cheerleader to remind you why breastfeeding is so important and why you shouldn’t skip just one feeding or just one pumping session.

Know how to contact a lactation consultant. I was incredibly lucky to have local support through Baby Beloved, Inc – a breastfeeding supply boutique complete with lactation consultant services. Baby Beloved also hosts baby classes and a mommy support group. It isn’t affiliated with the hospital or La Leche League (whom I could have contacted if necessary).

5. Breast comfort aids: Lanolin ointment (only needed during the first couple of weeks…then it really DOES get better), ice packs for engorgement (my mom made some for me out of diapers moistened with water and then frozen--worked perfectly), leak-prevention pads, breastfeeding pillow (more on that in a second), comfortable chair, supportive husband to provide extra set of hands when learning how to position baby...

6. Breastfeeding cover/apron: I have two: one from Bebe Au Lait (that’s French for “baby with milk” – a take on the expression for how you ask for a coffee with milk in French: "cafe au lait.”) My mom purchased the Bebe Au Lait one for me online and then used it to make a pattern so she could make me another one handmade. Pretty nifty and thrifty.

7. Nursing tank-tops/camisoles: These are certainly a matter of preference. I got some less expensive tanks at Target which worked well, but my most favorite brand of all was Bravado. I loved the ballet-style top, thick material and feeling of firm support. When my milk was first coming in and I was engorged, these tanks made me feel MUCH better. You need to be fitted for the Bravado tanks like you would be fitted for a nursing bra. My least favorite: Glamourmom—felt too flimsy for the money I paid.

8. Breastfeeding support group: If there is a local support group that meets regularly, attend it! The place where I got my pump, bras, and tanks also hosts a weekly mommy support group. I felt a little uncomfortable when I first went there, but for no good reason. It was the most safe, understanding environment a new mom could ask for. In addition to being hosted by a certified lactation consultant, the mommy group was a great place to vent, cry, and laugh about motherhood, breastfeeding or post-pregnancy fat jeans.

9. The best breast pump insurance can buy…or register for one if you’re going to be having a baby shower. My OB wrote a prescription for a breast pump and our insurance covered the entire cost, so I got the Medela Pump-In-Style Advanced. It worked really great. You can always rent a pump, also. Babies R Us rents them as did my breastfeeding supply store (significantly cheaper than BRU).

Learn to pump! Even if you don't have to, you should. The whole pumping thing was very intimidating, even though I had been shown how easy it was when I purchased the pump. I was very scared, but this was another situation in which the fear was totally unfounded. The reason I learned was because in the first couple of weeks after Drew was born, I had one side that was so sore and painful, I could barely feed from that side without crying. I don't know why or how the one side was worse than the other, because it didn't seem to be a latch problem, but pumping helped me to heal the right side while feeding Drew only from the left. Once I was all healed up, we bf from both sides and life was good.

However, because I forced myself to learn to pump, I was able to continue pumping in order to build up a freezer supply. I became fascinated with how much I could produce, and I used some of the advice that I had read in Tamaro's book to figure out when I should pump (I always did it right after I nursed) and how to store the frozen milk. Some days I would pump after every single nursing and other days not at all. But it was so helpful to have the option.

10. Nursing pillows: I used the Boppy, which worked fine when Drew was the smallest, but there are some better pillows out there for when your baby gets bigger and bigger and bigger. We actually had two nursing pillows, which I thought was a total waste—before I actually gave birth. I had registered for and received the Boppy and then someone else gave me a Boppy-like nursing pillow also. I was all set to take it back when a friend told me she liked having a couple of nursing pillows. So I didn’t take it back and am I ever glad. First, everybody who came to visit us used the Boppy when holding Drew. My manly-man husband seemed very fascinated with the Boppy—he used it every time he held/rocked Drew and put it around the waist of every guest, male or female, who came to visit the baby. Which was fine and dandy, except germ-freak-me wanted what I perceived to be a sterile Boppy to feed Drew on. It was also nice to have a nursing pillow both in the living room and the bedroom—the two places I nursed the most. Furthermore, it was nice to have an extra nursing pillow to throw into the car.

Coming Soon: My ideal Pumping Survival Kit

Drew's Birth Story

Sunday, March 23rd (Easter Sunday 2008)
• My water broke around 5:45 a.m. but I was confused about whether I might have wet my PJ’s or whether my water had broken because there wasn’t very much leakage, and most of the water-breaking stories I had heard involved gushing. I changed PJ’s and went back to bed. About a half hour later it happened again, but again it was more like involuntarily peeing a little instead of the gushing I was waiting for. So I woke Mike to discuss and consulted the What to Expect… book. Even then I was still confused—especially because I wasn’t due until April 10. So I changed PJ’s for a second time and we went back to bed with the plan that the third time would be the charm…no matter what we would just go to the hospital should the same thing occur again. Just a few minutes after we settled back into bed, more water came gushing out, and we were 100% sure that this was it!

• Because I wasn’t experiencing contractions, we prepared very calmly to go to the hospital. I had already packed my bag a week or so prior, so I finished some last minute stuff around the house while Mike took a shower. Interesting enough, the battery-operated candles, relaxing music CD, and back massager were all packed...but never even used. But I’m jumping ahead. So, we snapped a picture of me right before heading off to the hospital (not so pretty). We even dropped off the Easter ham & baskets to Mike’s cousin Becky’s house on the way to the hospital since clearly we wouldn’t be able to make the Easter dinner that day. No screeching tires or flying over railroad tracks were necessary en route.

• We arrived in emergency around 7:30 a.m. and got checked in triage to make sure that my “bag had ruptured.” It had indeed ruptured and I was dilated to just 1 cm, but cervix was thinned out—good news and bad news, both. I was hoping that I would be dilated much further, but I was glad that my body was progressing on its own. Once our labor and delivery room was prepared, we were carted off to spend the majority of our day there.

• As soon as we had the medical 100% that we would be admitted and having a baby, we called each of our parents. That was probably the most fun call to make since we had announced our engagement.

• Until 11:30 or so, we didn’t do too much. My nurse, Sheryl, monitored me and checked things out periodically, but since nothing much was happening in the contraction department, Pitocin was started and increased every half hour until contractions were going well. This is where my birthing plan (that I had even typed out on the computer, printed and put in a plastic page protector) took a turn. Of course, Pitocin would be where we got off track with the whole letting my body do its own thing. But since I was getting ready to meet my baby for the first time after nine long months, I sort of nodded my head and agreed to everything once we entered the hospital because no one was there to tell me otherwise.

• From 1:00 p.m. to 3:00 p.m. the Pitocin was increased in small increments and by 3:00 p.m. I could definitely feel a difference enough that I had to concentrate on the ceiling and breathing to make it through each contraction. However, at 3:00 p.m. Baby Drew wasn’t liking his position or the Pitocin and caused the nurse to come in and turn off the Pitocin, as well as have a resident doctor try to insert an internal HR monitor—TWICE. Yet ANOTHER situation that we had learned about that we were adamant against, and yet again we found ourselves nodding OK--twice. Because the first time the monitor came off. And I had to go through the experience a second time, which involved someone’s whole hand inside me sticking prongs into our child’s head. Not enjoyable whatsoever, causing me to have to breathe through the process because it hurt SO BADLY. The monitor never did work properly and luckily Drew responded well to the fact that the Pitocin was turned off. By this point I was dilated to 3 ½ cm and contractions were becoming difficult to breathe through.

• Contractions continued from 3:00 p.m. – 5:00 p.m without the Pitocin, coming closer together and getting stronger. Breathing turned to whimpering and moaning/crying. I remember feeling embarrassed that I was being too loud but it was all I could do to manage the pain for 60 – 90 seconds every 2 - 2 ½ minutes. Literally 30 - 60 seconds of down-time before the next contraction began. Mike was a good coach, but there wasn’t a whole lot he could do, besides hold the throw up bucket when I got sick—another side effect of the pain that I didn’t expect. I remember telling him to please be quiet and not say a word, and then he would say "you're doing great" and I would tell him emphatically--please don't even say that!!!!

• Finally finally FINALLY I was checked and dialated to 6 cm – good and ready for the epidural. Between dealing with contractions, throwing up, and bleeding from the internal heart rate monitor insertion experience, I thought I couldn’t make it any longer and I asked for the epidural. The worst part of the epidural was trying to be still while having a serious contraction and a procedure that could be dangerous if not administered properly.

• Following the epidural procedure, I was in heaven compared to what I had just gone through. I could still feel when I was having a contraction, but the intense pain was absent, as was the vomiting. Shortly after the epidural had taken effect (around 6:00 p.m.) I was checked again and surprised to find that I was dialated to a NINE. In one hour 5:00 p.m. – 6:00 p.m. I had gone from 6 cm to 9 cm. Was it that I was transitioning or was it that the epidural caused me to relax and allow my cervix to open? We will never know. I asked the nurse if she was joking--but she wasn't. She said she was on her way to call the doc because I was ready to push and she really thought that I would deliver before her shift ended at 7:00 p.m. What a feeling of utter excitement and joy!

• From 6:00 p.m. – 7:00 p.m. I pushed my heart out, but unfortunately Drew was “posterior” or face-up instead of face-down. We learned that it is much more difficult to deliver babies that way, so my pushing wasn’t making a lot of progress. And then…at 7:00 p.m. came the nurse change. I had really been impressed with my first nurse who had taken care of me all day. She was calm, encouraging, quiet, and seemed to really be on my side. She gave me great advice about how to push and her words and tone were just perfect. I really HATED the nurse who replaced her. She was annoyingly chipper, didn’t give good advice, and she had a “scolding” sort of encouragement. I think the worst thing about her is that she didn't seem sincere. An hour of her and when the doctor suggested we opt for a C-section, I’m sure one of the reasons I agreed was to get away from her. Actually, because I had a high blood pressure scare during the last couple of weeks of pregnancy, the doctor didn’t want to “take any chances.” He explained that since both Drew and I were in a non-emergency situation, though not making progress, it would be a SAFE idea rather than risk an emergency situation and end up with an emergency C-section anyway. It sounded like a reasonable explanation.

• Mike and I didn’t even really talk it over. I was all drugged up and we were both so ready to meet Drew, that why would we go against the medical advice? (I’ll answer that question in a future post). So we got prepped for surgery and off we went to deliver Drew. The anesthesiologist was UNBELIEVABLE. He basically narrated every single move that he and the doctor were making so that at NO point did I feel scared or think that something was wrong. He kept reassuring me and telling me how great everything was going. Just as Drew's head was being delivered he positioned a mirror so I could watch. Nothing short of a MIRACLE. At 8:58 p.m. our most beautiful gift entered the world. We thought Drew was just amazing and beautiful and perfect. Mike said in excitement, “He’s got four arms and legs!” I love that line--such a cute husband-y thing to say! Michael was videotaping the whole procedure so we have been able to relive the excitement and joy several times since--including the "four arms and legs" comment--hee hee.

• We watched as they checked Drew over and soon after the surgery, they gave Drew to me and wheeled us together to the recovery room where we could not stop saying how beautiful he was. I was “high” on all the medical drugs, but certainly more "high" on motherhood already. Drew got his first bath and I was given a bath, too! Until this experience, I had no idea what nurses do, because (thank goodness) I have never spent time in a hospital. Other than the one LD nurse who I didn't like so much, every single nurse that came to take care of me was absolutely phenomenal. Anyway...

• There is a short period after which a baby is born when the baby is alert but quiet. It is the most amazing couple of hours that you could possibly imagine. I believe that there is some medical explanation (and maybe even a name for it, which I can't remember), but it's clear: nature created a time for bonding, before the baby and momma start their rest and recovery from the birth process. Drew, Michael and I just stared into each other’s eyes. We made our first attempt at breastfeeding and were fairly successful. I was relieved that even though I had a C-section, Drew’s sucking instinct was strong. Around midnight we were finally cleared to return to our room.

• And that is the story of how precious Drew came into our world and made us Mommy and Daddy.

Breastfeeding Laws

If you are curious which states best protect our right to breastfeed and which states are lagging behind, click here.

Emails Can Be Very Educational

My son Drew is about to turn ONE. Goodness. Where has a year gone? So I have been thinking a lot about his BIRTH day lately. Maybe I'll post his birth story on his birthday.

I know a whole lot more now than I did then, and I wish I would have known more then. It's all about education...self-education. And I think it is so important to try to pass on the education--to share with as many people as possible (encouraging my four subscribers to share with people who might benefit).

So, today I am posting an email that I received from one of my high school friends when I was pregnant. Yep, more than a year later, I still have it saved in my email account. Her words are too wise and too informative to delete. So I thought I would post it this evening. She was one of very few "cheerleaders" for natural childbirth--which I was very interested in while I was pregnant, am still very interested in now, and am HOPING to be able to do if we are blessed to have another child in the future.

My friend's email to me begins:

"Ahh, natural childbirth in the 21st century . . . (sigh). Okay, here goes my soapbox . . . When I was expecting the first time I was pretty much in your same boat. Of course I would like to have a natural birth (DUH). After listening for 30 years to my mom tell me how much her Lamaze class helped and how the hardest part of labor was waiting for the doctor to get there . . ."

I think it is so funny that my friend's mother had such an easy birth...mine did, too. Intersting that they both took intensive Lamaze courses. Hmmmmmmm. Were their births truly that easy OR had they been educated in the proper mindset? Had they been practicing the relaxation techniques with their husbands for weeks and weeks? My mom indicated that she and my father really had to practice regularly and seriously at home in order to not be embarrassed at class. The breathing techniques and exercises they rehearsed not only improved relaxation and focus, but sounded like they built physical endurance as well. My mom, too, told me about my birth story over and over while I was pregnant, maybe in hopes that I would start believing that it could be a lovely experience contrary to what most people described.

When I even suggested the possibility that I was planning to decline an epidural, the responses I got usually included "you're crazy" or "that's what drugs are for" or "why would you even want to consider that" and sometimes included rolling eyes. One of the most unhelpful responses was "they don't give you a medal, you know." Such support from fellow women, many of them mothers themselves.

My friend's email continues:

"I signed up for a four-week hospital birth class which someone said was "Lamaze-like". I was, like you, a little surprised at the short length of the class, but figured hey, if my Mom can do it so can I. Maybe the classes are shorter now since all the doctors and nurses are more educated about natural birth (Not like in the 70's, right? Our moms paved the way for us, right?). Unfortunately, the reality is that most standard birth classes these days only pay lip service to preparing women for natural childbirth. And that is just fine with hospitals - they would rather women learn about hospital protocols than about listening to their own bodies. Hospitals don't make money that way."

What she really meant was the four 2-hour long classes that the hospitals offer are great if (a) you know absolutely nothing and don't plan to read a single word before you give birth, (b) you want to know exactly how the birth progresses medically and you don't already own the book "What to Expect...yadda yadda", or (c) you want to practice breathing techniques for about 15 minutes total--with all four of the classes put together.

So were the classes useful? I think they helped my husband understand birth and newborns and breastfeeding a little better. But I had already read about 90% of the information that was being presented either online or in pregnancy books. The most fun for me was seeing the mesh underwear that until then I had only heard about. And I will admit that the postpartum depression discussion was serious, thought-provoking and valuable. Other than that, not such a wise use of our dwindling time as just-the-two-of-us. Interestingly enough we both sort of zoned out when the C-section video was taking place because we were both positive I wouldn't be having one--which we ended up having, but that is certainly for another post. And I was SO PROUD of my husband because I remember the class that we learned about the medical "stuff"--especially with the epidural and how it ties you to the bed, and you can't get up and walk around, and it makes nursing after birth more difficult, and is such a medical, sometimes dangerous procedure, etc, etc.--he said "I never imagined giving birth being so medical." And when he said it, I heard in his voice that he wanted a more natural experience than what was just described, and less danger to me and our soon-to-be-born son. If only...but again, I'll save my birth story for another post.

And my friend's email continues:

"While it is far too "un-PC" for OB's or LDR nurses to ever say they are actually AGAINST natural childbirth, most rarely ever see one, let alone having any experience actually HELPING moms birth the way nature intended. In St. Louis, most of the hospitals have an over 90% epidural rate, somewhere around a 40% induction rate, and a 30% C-section rate. Think about it."

I'm glad she told me to think about it. I had never thought about ANY of that before, and I was pretty pregnant when I received this email that I am posting.

"Here is what I think about birth classes. If you are serious about going the husband-coached natural labor route, you will need to take a class that really gives you time to actually practice the coping techniques, so they come naturally to you once labor really hits. These are usually private classes and there are lots of different programs (Bradley, Hypnobirthing, Hypnobabies, Birthing From Within, etc.).

Otherwise, I say just get some books (most of the methods have books available) and maybe practice at home if you want to. The other side of the coin is that no matter what technique you learn, once active labor really hits hard most women just do whatever their bodies tell them to anyway. And that's just fine. I think the main purpose of ANY natural birth prep class is to give you confidence going into early labor, because fear can seriously mess you up (have you gotten very far in Ina May's book?)"

At the time I received the email in this post, it was a little on the late side to find/start/participate in a different class. I remember that I tried to find some local Lamaze classes, and I pondered trying a do-it-yourself book study with my husband, but it just didn't pan out. I was pregnant, hormonal, working full-time. And I didn't have a lot of local support to turn to. I live about 10 hours away from this friend and didn't know ANYONE who had taken any other classes than the ones the hospital offered. But, at least now I DO know of some local resources (like classes and doulas and yoga), and I HAVE met some mothers who birthed naturally.

My friend mentioned Ina May's book, which she had sent to me in a care package. Did I mention what a great friend she is? I didn't finish the book all the way through, but the underlying message, the message which made me Google "doulas," was about peaceful natural births by empowered women. How amazing does that sound?

"Regardless of what you decide about that, I really recommend investing in a doula. Husbands are great, but they make lousy labor coaches. Even if they are conscientious enough to study up on labor coping methods, when you are in labor you will respond FAR better to suggestions from someone who has actually been in your shoes (my husband can attest to this!). And don't expect labor support from the nursing staff - they are stretched far too thin among their patients. Maybe you will be in a different boat if you go with the nurse midwife, but even so it can be helpful to have someone come to your house and help you decide when it's time to leave for the hospital - the LAST thing you want to do is show up too early!"

Getting a doula...I was pretty motivated to find one until the big disagreement with DH. Maybe for another post...because it is a story of its own and caused another wise email from this same friend that is worth posting.

My friend closes her email:

"Sorry if this comes off preachy-I just wish someone had told me all this stuff before [my son] was born. I was so sure I knew what I was doing, and I
had been perfectly healthy the whole pregnancy. I am still blown away by how a perfectly healthy woman with a perfectly normal baby can show up at the hospital in labor and turn into a C-section. As I am sure you have heard, things went just a little bit differently with [my next one].

Okay, I'm off the soapbox now."

I didn't take it as preachy at all--I took it as a close friend being honest and open and doing her part in helping to educate her soon-to-give-birth-for-the-first-time friend. We could all benefit from a friend like this, huh?

We Love Bath Time

My own mom giving me a bath circa 1974. Note dated "Desitin" baby wash. Also note that no unnecessary cash was spent on a specially-made tub that fits over a sink (although I really liked our first infant bathtub, because clearly I would have to scrub, disinfect, de-germ, etc. our kitchen sink in order to bathe Drew in it).


And little Drew a few months ago in his bath:


And Drew's new bathtub. Yes, embarrassingly I have spent more money on another bathtub. But if I had seen this one in the first place, maybe I wouldn't have gotten the first one...which I really did like. I think this is a new model, invented since my baby showers :) It is supposedly molded to be used one way from 0 - 6 months and then like Drew is using it now, it supposed to go to 24 months. I am skeptical that he will fit in it when he is two years old, but what do I know? I can only tell you about 0 - 11 months so far! I felt like he was outgrowing his other tub, and since we shower where Drew bathes, well I cannot bring myself to sit Drew where we put our dirty feet...I'm a bit of a germ freak--and also, who wants to scrub out the tub before every single baby bath? So this tub is big and deep and it was a nice upgrade.


Did I mention that I love these tub toys? This is one thing that I did purposely register for and I'm so glad I did! Love the frog on the wall, love that it holds all his bath shapes (because prior to the frog we had been carting other bath toys back and forth from his room to the tub every bath time). Also--love the shapes and colors and the fact that they stick to the wall.

Green Cake Just In Time

I know there are a few avid cake-bakers out there. Pastry chefs in-the-making. I thought I should post this family recipe in time for the cake-bakers to get to the store before St. Patrick's Day. No, this is not an Irish cake recipe, rather a green cake. It would be appropriate to bake it in a shamrock-shaped pan, though.

Creme de Menthe Cake

1 package white cake mix (also egg whites & oil as cake mix instructions indicate)
1/3 c. green Creme de Menthe (for cake mix)
1 jar hot fudge ice cream topping (NOT chocolate syrup)
***Mrs. Richardson's brand is the best
***Hershey's and Smuckers are also thick enough
1 8 oz. container Cool Whip
3 Tbsp. Creme de Menthe (for Cool Whip)

Mix the cake according to the directions on the box, EXCEPT substitute 1/3 cup of Creme de Menthe for 1/3 cup of the water (usually recipe calls for something like 1 1/4 cups of liquid, so you will have the SAME amount of liquid, but 1/3 cup of it will be the Creme de Menthe, and the rest will be water). Pour into 9x13 pan (or that shamrock pan that you found and can only use once a year). Bake according to instructions on the box.

As soon as cake is removed from oven, spread the entire jar of hot fudge topping. Topping & cake need to be warm to make for easy spreading. Cool completely. When cake is cooled (maybe even chilled a little in the fridge), mix 2 - 3 Tbsp. of Creme de Menthe into the container of Cool Whip. You may want to add a few drops of green food coloring into Cool Whip for an even greener topping. Spread onto cake. Refrigerate until served. Enjoy!

Our Miracle

Found this quote on another blog and fell in love with it:

“The child must know that he is a miracle, that since the beginning of the world there hasn't been, and until the end of the world there will not be, another child like him.”-Pablo Casals

Baby Training Not For Me!

When I was pregnant with our first (and currently only) child, I read quite a bit, but mostly about how to breastfeed and about what was happening to my pregnant body. I knew all about foremilk and hindmilk, but I didn't know a thing about babies and their sleep patterns, with the exception that most of my friends who had babies/small children usually complained that they were sleep-deprived and were constantly warning me about the little sleep that I would be getting once Drew arrived.

Some family members as well as one friend of mine recommended to me a book about parent-directed baby-scheduling (but let's call a spade a spade...it was a book about training your baby to get on your schedule). Even as I type those words, I think about how far I've come in my thinking about my style/philosophies of parenting. The recommending family/friends talked about how the "methods" totally worked on their children and they were eager to back this up with data about how soon after birth their babies were "sleeping through the night" and how lovely it was to not have to feed their babies so often. I wonder if, in other cultures, it is common for women to brag about how long their babies sleep at night and how LONG they can go between feedings. Well, I have come to find out that I have a much different style of parenting.

Thank goodness I didn't waste my time reading the book during my pregnancy because prior to reading any of the "advice" (training instructions!) offered in the book, I had already had many intelligent and enlightening conversations with other mothers whose parenting methods felt more like mine. Granted, I don't parent too far from the perceived norm of our culture, but I definitely give more conscious thought to different areas of parenting than most other moms I come into contact with. I also do not take our pediatrician's word as the only way and/or best way to do things (like his advice to let Drew cry-it-out at 6 months).

Which brings me to why I even started this post in the first place. I want anyone and everyone (all four of you!) who read this blog to know that you don't HAVE to "train" your baby to sleep through the night by MAKING him/her Cry It Out. You can, but you really should read the research on the Ferber Method and any other CIO training methods. I am not an expert, but I have read enough to know that there is potential to damage your child's physical, mental, and emotional health if he/she is left to cry it out at a young age (yes, even six months, eight months, ten months...all too young in my opinion). Go ahead and stop reading this blog and read the Parenting Baby To Sleep blog. Or google those methods. There is information at your fingertips. You'll find huge fans of the CIO method, too. I'm just asking you to make an informed decision about why you would choose any "baby training."

OUR SLEEP STORY:
Like many, many infants, Drew came home from the hospital and slept most during the day and stayed up most of the night. It was frustrating for me and for my husband, too. He nursed every one to two hours for what seemed like years, but probably was only a couple of months. I would hear from other mothers at breastfeeding group about how their 6-week-olds were sleeping four or even six hours through the night. I'm not going to lie--I was pretty jealous. Then throughout the third and fourth months, Drew still nursed frequently. And some people thought this was not normal--but I knew it was PERFECTLY normal. And the lactation consultant and my bf group friends, and my favorite breastfeeding book knew it was normal. So we nursed on, Drew and I, meeting often during the night, neither of us sleeping for much more than two hours at a time.

My husband, the wonderful father that he is, really did want to help me find some sanity, though. He had read a bit about sleep rituals and schedules and he started a very lovely, soothing nighttime routine of bathing Drew, giving him to me to nurse, then rocking him to sleep. I think the continuity and regularity of the ritual helped Drew recognize bed TIME, even if he didn't sleep through the night. I truly believe that a regular bed time eventually helped us get to the sleeping through the night (even if it was much later!).

At the end of the fourth month (when Drew actually turned 4 months old), I remember being so excited that Drew had slept a four-hour stretch. And this continued pretty consistently, but again, Drew was still waking at least once, sometimes twice during the night. At Drew's 6-month check up, our pediatrician reminded us, no, he ENCOURAGED us, to make Drew cry it out to learn to soothe himself back to sleep. He also noted that Drew didn't NEED food in the middle of the night, that he wasn't waking because he was hungry.

A wise mother once wrote in her blog: if it doesn't feel right in your gut, then it probably isn't. And allowing my six-month old to cry while I PURPOSELY ignored him did NOT feel right to me, regardless of what the pediatrician or anyone else or any book advised. My husband was a little more eager to follow the doctor's advice--he really did want me to get more sleep, and he wanted Drew to get the rest he needed, too. But I'm blessed with a husband who trusts me, and even though he didn't necessarily agree with me in ignoring the ped's advice, he did his best to support me, and to take turns in the middle of the night when necessary.

And guess what? Gradually, Drew started sleeping longer. And if he woke crying, I nursed him if he wanted to. And if he just needed cuddling and rocking, well then we cuddled and rocked. And if we needed to sleep together for the rest of the night on the couch, that's what we did. And finally one night (when Drew had just turned eight months old), he went to bed at his regular time (8:00 p.m.) and didn't get up until about 5:00 a.m. WHA-HOO through the night! Write it on the calendar! And he started making that a regular habit, and soon 5:00 a.m. lengthened out to 6:00 a.m. And a little added bonus for Mommy and Daddy--Drew moved his 8:00 p.m. bedtime back to 7:00 p.m. -- on his own. So the best part is: I know in my heart that Drew goes to bed peacefully, and sleeps peacefully, all the while knowing that if he does need me, I'll be there. Most nights, he doesn't need me, but every once in a while he does, and I don't mind an extra snuggle with him.

So I suppose that I could boast about how my child sleeps through the night. And I could probably add that 7:00 p.m. to 6:00 a.m. is a pretty long time. How else did I have time to write this rather lengthy post??? BUT, I would much rather brag that I have NEVER and will NEVER use the Cry-It-Out method.


Disclaimer: I don't mean to offend anyone who has used the CIO method or any other baby training book. They just don't work for me!

ONE FINAL THOUGHT:

I don't want to be an average mom, or even a good mom--I want to be the absolute best mother I can possibly be. And I want to put myself on that path purposefully. If there is research to read, I want to know about it. I want to put Drew's needs first and foremost, whenever and however I can.

I am unbelieveably blessed to have met a fabulous mom in my breastfeeding support group. She makes me think and question and want to educate myself about parenting. And get this...I am eight years older than she is. But she is wise beyond her youth, and if you want to be a better parent, her blog is worth reading and studying.

EASY Chicken Lasagna Alfredo

This past weekend I purchased a rotisserie chicken at the grocery store. In addition to eating the chicken as is, for your main course, there are so many uses for the leftovers...and here is one that turned out well. In fact, other than the chicken, I already had all of the ingredients in the cabinet, refrigerator, and freezer. Because the measurements depend on the size of your family, the amount of ingredients you have on hand, and the size of pan you are going to use, I am not going to include them. Plus, the best thing about a lasagna is you can pretty much "eye-ball" every ingredient and still turn out a masterpiece.

Lasagna Noodles
Jar of store-bought Alfredo sauce (1 jar for 8x8, but probably 2 for 9x13)
Cottage cheese or Ricotta
Diced cooked chicken
Frozen broccoli
Mozzarella cheese
Parmesan cheese

I made an 8x8 pan of lasagna. This is a perfect size for my family (just husband, me and baby) because we still have leftovers, but not two weeks worth. The leftovers are gone before we get tired of eating them! I used the no-boil style of lasagna noodles to save some time, but FYI: you really don't ever have to boil the other type of lasagna noodles as long as you use enough sauce. Anyway, the Barilla brand is what I had on hand. After spraying non-stick cooking spray in your baking dish, pour enough alfredo sauce to lightly coat the bottom of the pan. Spread a layer of noodles on bottom. Follow with a layer of cottage cheese, frozen broccoli, and chicken. Top with mozzarella and parmesan and a good pouring of the alfredo sauce. Repeat another layer. Finally, top the second layer with one more layer of noodles and a good helping of mozzarella cheese. I also poured any remaining sauce I had on top. Cover with foil (spray the foil with non-stick spray so the cheese doesn't bake onto it). Bake at 375 degrees for at least 45 minutes. When 20 minutes of cook-time are remaining, remove foil so cheese can get golden and bubbly. ENJOY!

By the way, there are all kinds of other things you could add--off the top of my head: sun-dried tomatoes, mushrooms, green peppers. Be creative!

Parenting Right

First I was silent. I was holding my husband's hand to my right, and a stranger's hand to my left. Every one else around me was reciting the Lord's Prayer, but I had stopped mid-prayer, already tearing up and unable to continue. As soon as we were done, I whispered to my husband, "I have to get out of here...NOW." On the verge of full-blown crying, I was glad that my husband and son were the only ones I had to climb over to get out of the pew. I needed to remove myself from the situation that had been unfolding in the pew in front of us: a father treating his daughter (maybe around two years old) terribly...and for no good reason. I could NOT take it. Now, he wasn't hitting her physically, but in actuality, he was hitting her...with his words, with his body language, with his harsh grabbing at her to settle her. We had been sitting behind this couple and their two kids for the whole service up to that point. The little girl was QUIETLY occupying herself with a book, some flashcards, and a cuddly. Was she moving around? Yes...but isn't that what two-year-olds DO? Was she muttering some two-year-old babble to herself? YES. Was she content during an adult church service meant for adult ears? ABSOLUTELY. Was her father making more noise grabbing at her and angrily "SSSHHHHHH-ing" her than the little girl was herself? Uh, YES. Was anyone else remotely bothered by the little girl? NO. By the father? YES. It wasn't just me who looked shocked at this man's behavior, although I was the only one crying about it. The girl's mom had already taken their fussy baby out of the church and into the lobby, leaving dad and the daughter alone. It seemed that once the mother was gone, the dad grew more and more annoyed and exceedingly harsh by the second. As I am watching all of this unfold, literally two feet away from me, I first said to my husband, "I can't watch this." Probably afraid that I might actually say something to the man, my husband whispered back, "You need to get a hold of yourself." And then the man's behavior continued and the tears start welling up in my eyes...and finally I made my mad-dash for the lobby, where I began sobbing.

I wonder how this father has already damaged his little girl's emotional health and how much he will continue to damage her into the future. It is no damn wonder that we get some pretty messed up kids in our classrooms. And of course I recognize that there are kids who have way worse parents than this little girl--these parents were in church for God's sake. Some parents are doing drugs on Sunday mornings. But nevertheless, this man showed no sign of love or affection for his little toddler, and was not worried at all about what the general public was watching. Jeez, I wonder how much worse it is at home. I should have been tipped off when I tried to smile at him when he first got his young baby out of her carseat. He scowled at me, too. How dare I show a little admiration for the cuteness of his baby.

So...here is where I would probably upset many people (if there happened to be more than three people who read my blog): I do NOT believe that it is everyone's right to be a parent. And furthermore, I am extremely offended by the people who abuse their fertility by continuing to have children when they have no intention of putting forth the love, effort and sacrifice that it takes to raise children who are mentally, physically, and emotionally healthy.

There, I feel better now...for me at least, but not for the poor little girl from church.