J.C.'s Weekend

Praise be the higher power (if they exist), our daycare provider is back from vacation!  Regular life resumes!  This is negative for me because it means I'm back on duty getting the Big Yam ready in the morning, but good for the family as a whole because it means we don't have to keep patching together a network of care.  Plus, it's just nice to be back in the regular routine of life, with an orderly schedule and whatnot.  It's good for everyone, but me in particular, because schedules and order are my talismans against the capriciousness of living.  

We couldn't possibly have had a better weekend.  It was soooo nice.  Four day weekends are bliss piled upon bliss.  They are especially so when your family obligations are neatly wrapped up on the first day (we had dinner with Momma D and my mum decamped to do some cross-border shopping in the States so we were off the hook with my family) and you have nothing but aimless days filled with some household chores and some dinner preparation and some friend visiting (but not too much).  It was perfect.  We cooked and cleaned and napped and relaxed.  There was a flurry of activity yesterday, spurred by my receiving my weekly pregnancy-email update.  According to Baby Centre, at 23 weeks the twerps are now considered "viable" (that is, if they were born now, they would be disgusting jellybean quarterly baby Voldemorts, but have a high statistical probability of survival).  The word "viable" resulted in me yelling at the Dotytron and rhyming off a nonsensical list of tasks great and small that I, in my fevered nesting state, would like to see accomplished.  The list included everything from doing something with the speakers and bass bin that had been plopped unceremoniously on top of my cherished rosewood buffet, to buying the minivan, to like, remortgaging the house, to cleaning the basement, to organizing extra cables and labelling them.  I went cuckoo, admittedly.  

The Dotytron was a peach and tried to stem the tide of hormonal anxiety by writing up a list of things to do, which culminated in "contract gonorrhea." 

We got a good chunk of business done and reorganized the basement some more and put things away so that they made sense for access.  The speakers and bass bin (what I jokingly refer to as the "Valve Soundsystem") have been rendered slightly less unsightly in a show of compromise between the Dotytron's quest for audio fidelity and my quest for harmonious living room aesthetics.

The Big Yam got (another) ear infection.  At least now he can tell us, although I'm not sure that hearing him plaintively cry, "My ear hurts, my ear!" is an improvement because it kind of breaks your heart.  He was a trooper though.  We pulled him in for Sleep Away Camp and dosed him with painkillers until we could see our doctor and he rallied enough to participate in the Annual Street Easter Egg Hunt.  This year we ramped it up.  I made breakfasty/sweet bread/snacky type things and someone bought coffee from Starbucks and someone else brought fruit and juice and cups.  The hunt was over in about half an hour, but we got an awesome group shot with all the kidlets on the street and then everyone stayed outside for another hour or two while the kids rode their bikes and the adults chiefed it up.  So cute!

We went to our friends' house for a tapas meal (I think there were like, 10 different dishes?  And cava?  And red and white wine?)  and caught up with our amazingly talented, interesting, intelligent, and engaged high school cronies.  Sometimes, when I take a look around at all the amazing people in my life, I feel so incredibly lucky to be able to count so many smart, talented people as friends - old and new.  As someone who thrives on conversation, debate, philosophizing, and taking the world apart and (trying) to put it back together again in a way that makes sense and is reflexive, honest, thoughtful, and conscious, gatherings where hours of wide-ranging conversation disappear in what seems like minutes are the stuff that I live for.  We came back from that lunch feeling very lucky, very loved, and very, very full.  

The Big Yam is so so so delightful right now.  Basically, if he's not whining, everything he says/does right now tears us to pieces with cuteness.  A small sampling:

- Washing the dishes from dinner, over the sounds of the tap and the suds, the Dotytron and I heard a very grave, "Mama, I'm not happy with you" from the Big Yam, who at the time was preoccupied with hopping on the couch in his jammies.

- He likes to put me to bed on the living room couch, which includes pulling a blanket around me, singing "Blackbird," and more often than not, him climbing up on the couch to snuggle in next to me with a: "I want to be cozy" or "I want tickles."  

- There is lots of dancing, all the time, and the newest iteration of his dancing style is hilarious.  

- "Mama, can I have butter on my bread?"  "Yes, I'll give you some."  "I want aaaaaaaaaaaa-lot."

He really is the best.  I was tired yesterday and fell asleep and missed the bedtime routine, despite the Big Yam's exhortations that "Mama, come!" I just couldn't move from the couch.  Then when I finally roused an hour later, I felt so guilty.  It was definitely hormonal but I was so sad.  I know you love all your kids (hopefully?) but there are times when I can't fathom loving the twerps as much as I love the Big Yam.  Or at the very least, I don't know where the extra love comes from.  I'm also trying to be very conscious that our time together where it's just us and him is limited and soon he's going to have to share us and we'll have to share ourselves and him with his siblings and it's going to be so different.  I don't know how you pay attention to all the little details of your kids when you have more than one.  I don't know how you find the time to give them the love and support and learning opportunities that make them grow when you have more than one.  

I don't know the twerps.  I know the Big Yam and I find myself being hyper-protective of our relationship.  I don't really know how you find the time/energy to make more than one kid feel special and awesome.  Two at the same time?  How the heck does that work?  I know this is something all parents with more than one kid grapple with.  I also know that this is me being a hormonal mess.  Still, it eats away at me a bit each day that goes by as we move closer and closer to imminent twerp arrival, especially when I'm reading stories to and being cozy with and  planting kisses on my sweet little Boobla.  

'Twas a weekend of good eats:

Saturday morning breakfast - oat & whole wheat scones with Devon cream & my concord grape jelly.

The craving for crispy fish & tartar sauce continues apace: sweet potato oven fries, a dilled cucumber salad, and a panko-crusted salmon burger with arugula, tomato, and tartar sauce on a buttered toasted bun (you'll notice my attempt to be low-carb by only eating half a bun).  This recipe for sweet potato oven fries produced the best version we've ever had.  All you have to do is soak your cut sweet potatoes in advance (to take out the extra starch, I'm guessing) and then drain them and dry them on a towel.  Then you put them in a paper bag with some cornstarch, shake it around so they get all coated.  Toss the coated fries in a bowl and toss with oil.  Season and bake in a 450F oven until crispy, turning halfway through.  

You'll then notice how I completely went ultra-mega-carbs by making Bouchon Bakery's TKO's - their take on the Oreo cookie, aka the most sinfully delicious, salty-sweet, rich thing in all of existence.  I dream of this cookie.  I rolled my dough out a little thick, but with a cold glass of milk, there are few things better.

My new favorite healthy lunch, inspired by some cheap brie I scooped with Dr. Rei on our lunchtime travels last week - pan-toasted sourdough bread, with my homemade tomato jam, some sliced red onion, some avocado, and melted brie on top.  Sided with more cucumber salad.

We closed out the weekend with breaded cod sandwiches, sweet potato latkes with apple sauce and chili mayo, and a broccoli, red onion, and almond salad.

Tonight we had Spanish style braised tripe with chickpeas and chorizo, served with warmed crusty bread for dipping.  I love me some tripe and it was nice to have the day off yesterday to prep it so it only had to be reheated today.  Recipe below.

Fin.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spanish Style Tripe with Chickpeas

serves 4-6

3 lbs tripe, cleaned and cut into 1" strips

2 T. white vinegar

1 c. dried chickpeas, soaked overnight

2 links semi-cured chorizo (not completely dried, not the fresh kind either, I get mine from Segovia in Kensington)

1 large Spanish onion, sliced thin

4-5 cloves of garlic, minced

1 T. Spanish smoked paprika

pinch saffron 

1/2 can of tomato paste

salt and pepper to taste

- in a fairly large pot, put the tripe, the vinegar, and just enough water to barely cover the tripe.

- bring this to a boil, then skim the scum off the surface and drain the tripe.

- heat enough olive/canola oil to cover the bottom of a heavy dutch oven and sauté the chorizo over medium-high heat until it starts to render.  

- add the onions and sweat, add the minced garlic, the spices, and the tomato paste and cook out.

- add the chickpeas and tripe and about 4 cups of water. 

- bring to a simmer, reduce heat to a bare, bare simmer and cook the mixture with the lid on for about 3 hours, or until the tripe is tender, stirring occasionally.  Add water as needed to reach desired consistency (I like it to be a mostly thick stew with just a bit of extra gravy).  Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Evidenced-based research

As a corollary to my stance on informed choice, I also believe in evidenced-based research.  I recently came across two parenting blogs that provide an evidenced-based research approach to common parenting issues:

Squintmom
Science of Mom

I like these blogs because, as has been evidenced time and time again, I find reading about parenting issues (sleep training, introduction of solids, discipline techniques) fantastically boring.  I tend to go with my gut, based on being a rational, well-rounded individual, and therefore finding people who ARE willing to cull through academic studies and summarize the findings on these issues in as unbiased a way as possible, saves me a lot of time and has the added bonus of helping my ability to defend a position with some degree of authority, while putting in very little of the dirty work myself.  BONUS.  

Anyway, the Science of Mom has this 6 part series on sleep training, which I passed along to the Roomie, not as a way of persuading her, but as a way of giving her some information she might not otherwise come across.  The Science of Mom lady's findings very closely match my own experiences from sleep training the Big Yam and from going with my gut, and are best summarized using her mantra:

"Parent with love. Parent with respect. Parent with knowledge. Parent without fear."

Her sleep training summary can be found here. I very much believe that it's detrimental for parents to tie their sense of worth as parents to their ability to silence their baby's crying.  Crying is their way of expressing frustration.  It is GOOD to experience frustration and the associated adversity and I believe that part of being a successful parent is giving your child the space to work through frustration and adversity and more importantly, the space to express their full gamut of emotions and know that they're being heard and not immediately mollified.  

I also believe strongly that you have to treat children, and even babies, as rational human beings.  Babies can understand long before they're able to talk, and it's important to give them the respect of explaining your actions and why you're doing what you're doing and making them feel secure.  Since we returned to regular work schedules on Monday, we've been putting the Big Yam down to sleep in his crib and he's been waking in the night crying out for us.  On Monday night, the Dotytron hopped out of bed and grabbed him and brought him in for Sleep Away Camp, which immediately settles him.  Last night, I hopped out of bed and went into his room.  I told him that we were here, that I was going to pick him up, that I would sing him a song, and then that it was time for him to go back to sleep.  He requested two songs, and I sang them, and then I laid him down in the crib, tucked him in, and told him that Mama and Baba love him but that it's time to sleep and that we're right next door and we'll see him in the morning.  And he said, really quietly, "okay" (which obviously pierced my heart with a million tender shards of love and affection) and I left the room and he stayed down until morning.  Getting the "okay" from the Big Yam goes a long way to ensuring Yam compliance (in the immediate term).  

The "okay" kills me.  On Saturday night, when we were at our friend Fox's one bedroom apartment for a big French Canadian-themed dinner with a bunch of Supper Clubbers, I put the Big Yam down to sleep on Fox's bed and tried getting him to go to sleep but he wasn't having it.  I told him that I was going to leave the room to go get Baba to come in and sing him some songs.  He was lying on his back, in this strange bed, in what is obviously a bachelor pad, and he did his quiet "okay" and lay there with his eyes open staring up at the ceiling while I left him in the dark room.  That two-syllable word was so filled with trust and patience and the love that underscores both those things that it still rends and mends me in endless simultaneity today.  Such a small moment, but I was filled with love for my brave little trusting Boobla.

The Roomie's parenting style came up recently in discussion because she's been criticised for it by some close (mutual) friends of ours.  The Dotytron, as usual, was so smart and had this to say: "As far as parenting styles go, I'd only be concerned for baby T if the Roomie wasn't doing well.  Since this is the parenting style that's making her happy then I know that T will be happy.  If she's 'setting herself up' for something down the road, then it's going to be what it's going to be, but for now, the most important thing is that she's doing something that works for her."  He's a smart cookie, that one.  The Roomie's style is her style.  It fits her life and her choices make her happy.  Her style wouldn't work for me and the Dotytron because we are two individuals with a lot (some would say too many) interests and in order for us to be happy, the baby had to be incorporated into our lives as a discrete individual inside a family of similarly discrete individuals who had to maintain a balance between accommodating this new addition and still pursuing our individual interests.  Subsuming my life to a baby's would never work for me and would make me unhappy and therefore would produce an unhappy baby and family unit.  

My friend G always comments about how during one of our get togethers during my early days with the newborn Big Yam she was impressed with the ability with which I fluidly switched from talking about being a new parent to switching to my opinion on some current event issue or another that had come up in a parallel conversation, and how that hadn't been her experience with other parental figures in her orbit thus far.  Can you IMAGINE a Karl Lagerfeld who didn't have things to say on films or popular culture or philosophy or Idle No More or the fiscal cliff?  I HAVE OPINIONS, PEOPLE.  AND THEY MUST BE HEARD!  

That's why going to the drop-in centre always made me slightly screwy in the head.  It was nice for the Big Yam, but not great for my intellectual development to be dealing with all the "careers" (my term for stay at home moms).  Perhaps it was this particular sample.  I get that the conversation would necessarily be rooted around the commonality, or what brought this disparate group of people together in the first place, but you would think that after a few months of going some place 3+ times a week, the conversation would veer towards other things.  

Tonight for dinner we had freezer posole with crushed tortilla chips and avocadoes and shredded cabbage mixed with lime and sour cream.  It was amazing:

I've put down the recipe for the sour cream pancakes we made on the weekend.  These pancakes turned out nice - they have a lower flour-to-wet-ingredients ratio than most and so they come out a little eggier, but definitely not dense or dry.  I'd say they're like a cross between a Dutch baby and a regular pancake.  They're also not too sweet and could hold up to many different toppings.  I adapted them from a recipe on Smitten Kitchen.

Fin.





-------------------------------------------------------------
Sour Cream Pancakes
makes 14 4" pancakes

3/4 c. plus 2 T. all purpose flour
2 T. sugar
2 t. baking soda
3/4 t. salt
2 cups sour cream
4 eggs
unsalted butter, for cooking pancakes

- whisk sour cream and eggs together.
- whisk in dry ingredients until combined.
- slowly heat 1/2 T. of butter at a time in a heavy cast-iron skillet (what I use) or your preferred pancake pan.  
- drop a scant 1/4 c. of pancake batter at a time into the pan, cook until golden and set on bottom and bubbly on top, and flip.

Drag me to hell

Super-hyperbolic but exactly how I felt this morning thinking about leaving bed to go to work.  I just really want to continue cottage life - engrossed in a book, lazing, snuggling with the Big Yam.  The time with him is what I was missing the most.  At the cottage, a few times he had nightmares so I pulled him into bed with me and we slept all smushed up together like mashed potatoes and gravy and I felt my heart thrum with love and the awareness that he is growing up lightning fast.  So many words!  Too many to document.  Sentences: "Mama more chicken please" (does that constitute a sentence? We were wondering what parts of speech have to be present for a sentence to be duly constituted.)  (Edit: I just checked - a subject and a predicate.  Not really sure what that means though.  Will report back.  <-- is that a sentence?!?)  He's been practising with randomly calling us Mommy and Daddy and I find it kind of syrupy and gross but there's nothing I can do about it. He will also now just start randomly parroting words back at you as soon as you say them.  It's so cute!  Toddlers are really, truly the best.  Young, new, fresh-dough babies are cute and all, but nowhere near as entertaining as toddlers.


I gave the Dotytron a near heart attack one night at the cottage because I kept hearing this weird sound and I was convinced that someone had broken into the house to steal the Big Yam from his bed.  I wrecked both our night's sleep on account of my paranoia.  Worst!  People who mess with babies are the scummiest scumholes of the world.  Hands down.  I kept picturing how scared the Big Yam would be and how alone and how he'd totally just be going "Done. Done. Done." the whole time (which is what he says when he's done with something and/or confronted with a situation he's uncomfortable with - e.g. old people smiling at him) and I was totally beside myself.  What's wrong with me that I actually imagine those worst case scenarios?  I'm too much of a worrier.


Why do kids have to grow up into jerks teenagers?  What's with that?  Why will he one day grow up and (hopefully) find love and then love someone more than me?  WHAT'S WITH THAT?!  I gave you life!  Whoever he's going to shack up with is just giving him nookie!!!  And what if WE DON'T GET ALONG?!?


I need to get a grip.  To temper all the wanting to quit work and never being farther than arm's reach away from him, I have to take a deep breath and remember all the time outs at the cottage and how I relished those blessed, blessed minutes of not getting smacked in the face or dealing with whining.

Speaking of not getting along with your parents, one of the (many) books I've finished recently is Alison Bechdel's latest, Are You My Mother?  Taking as its title inspiration the well-loved P.D. Eastman children's book of the same name, it's Bechdel's graphic novel memoir that details her relationship with her mother.  The pall cast by her closeted father (who is thought to have committed suicide) on the family and on Alison's own burgeoning lesbianism is documented in her earlier comic memoir, Fun Home.  This piece is very different.  I'd say that her mother figures marginally in the overall work and instead, it deals with the residual affects of her mother on Bechdel's psyche (e.g. her mother stopped kissing her goodnight when Bechdel was 7, saying she was "too old" for such things).  There's a lot of psychoanalysis and psychoanalytic talk in the book, which I wasn't expecting.  Bechdel uses the work of a particular psychoanalyst, Donald Winnicott to attempt to come to grips with her own dreams, feelings of failure, anxieties, neuroses, and attachments to her therapists as substitutes for her mother.  I found this book a little difficult.  It's deeply personal but lacks the narrative grace of a successful memoir.  Bechdel is a little too much in the book - it meanders and you get the sense of you yourself getting lost and becoming too intimate with someone's psyche - someone whose issues seem not terribly fraught or aren't presented in a way that makes the issues of particular interest to an outsider.  It was enjoyable, but nowhere near as engrossing as her comic strips or Fun Home (too much psychobabble and Virginia Woolf!)  


One of Bechdel's realizations did resonate with me, in light of my own fractured relationship with my own mother.  Over a late-night telephone conversation where Bechdel's mother chastises her for being public about her lesbianism, Bechdel cries and hangs up on her.  But she comes to an awareness that she is asking for something from her mother that her mother cannot give because it is not in her to do so.  Again, it comes back to accepting people for who they are.  Bechdel realizes that her mother loves her, in her own fashion, and that what Bechdel wants from her mother her mother cannot give, not because she doesn't want to, but because it is not in her to do so.  Through this realization, Bechdel understands that because of this, it is not a fundamental failing in her that she is unable to illicit what she wants from her mother.  In so doing, they are both released from the tortuous detente they had occupied and are free to enjoy each other as they are.  I was deeply struck by this and I think this is something I am going to try to take forward into all my relationships in general, but with my mum in particular.


Last night was our street's 2nd Annual Street Party.  It was so much fun!  Look at it: 

Kids lining up for the shoe toss competition 

 Ladies lining up for our shoe toss (I did terribly - I got negative points and kicked my shoe backward. I blame being too relaxed from the cottage - no muscle tone.)

Super-cute, right?  As usual I went buck and overcompensated and made too much food.  Next year I'm not going to make a side.  This year I made a BLT macaroni salad thing (macaroni, bacon, tomatoes, lettuce, and avocadoes all bound with scallion mayo), smoked 4 racks of ribs for five hours (using wild black cherry and sugar maple), and I made brownies and tres leches cake.  I've NAILED the tres leches cake recipe.  I'll post the recipe at the end.  I made some changes to a recipe from Serious Eats.  


We had a decent amount of food at the party:

I'm trying to cut down on carbs a bit, so tonight we had a quinoa, duck egg, avocado, and chickpea salad with scallion mayo.


Fin.


---------------------------------------------------------
Coconut Tres Leches Cake
makes a 9x13 sized cake


2 c. all-purpose flour
4 t. baking powder 
6 large eggs, separated 
1 teaspoon salt 
1 1/2 c. sugar 
1/2 c. milk, at room temperature 
2 t. pure vanilla extract 
2 c. sweetened shredded coconut 


2 cans coconut milk 
1 can sweetened condensed milk 
1 can evaporated milk


1 1/2 c. whipping cream
1 c. sweetened shredded coconut, toasted 
1 c. flaked almonds, toasted


- preheat oven to 325°F
- whisk flour and baking powder together in small bowl; set aside. 
- in the bowl of your stand mixer or a large bowl, beat egg whites and salt with whisk attachment on medium-low speed until whites begin to loosen and froth.  Increase speed to medium-high and beat whites until soft peaks form. Slowly add the sugar and continue beating until stiff, glossy peaks form. 
- add egg yolks and beat just until combined. 
- decrease speed to low and add flour mixture in three batches, alternating with milk. Scrape down sides of bowl with rubber spatula.
- add vanilla and fold in coconut with rubber spatula. 
- pour batter into a lightly greased 13x9" baking dish and smooth top. Bake until cake tester inserted in center of cake comes out clean, 45 to 50 minutes. 
- cool cake for 30 minutes, then poke cake all over with a fork or skewer and run a knife along the edges of the cake to separate it from the sides of the pan.


- in a large measuring cup or bowl whisk together the coconut, evaporated, and condensed milk.  Pour this mixture evenly over the cake, allowing the cake to absorb the milk between applications.  Wrap the cake in plastic wrap and chill in the fridge for 4 hours or overnight.


- just before serving, whip the whipping cream until soft peaks form.  Spread the whipped cream over the top of the cake and then sprinkle with the toasted coconut and almonds.  Cut into squares and serve.

A quickie

There are reasons why Bill Murray is revered as a demi-god, and it's not just because he appears as moving set decoration in hipster-baiting Wes Anderson films.  


Here are his words on parenthood (he is the father to six sons):


"If you bite on everything they throw at you, they will grind you down. You have to ignore a certain amount of stuff. The thing I keep saying to them lately is: "I have to love you, and I have the right to ignore you." When my kids ask what I want for my birthday or Christmas or whatever, I use the same answer my father did: "Peace and quiet." That was never a satisfactory answer to me as a kid — I wanted an answer like "A pipe." But now I see the wisdom of it: All I want is you at your best — you making this an easier home to live in, you thinking of others." (from this article).  


Fin.

Tales of a mama dread

So yesterday I came across this idea from this woman's blog I follow. The woman is raising 2 kids in the Montessori style and is a former Montessori teacher with some Waldorf-y leanings in there as well. The idea was for a "discovery/treasure basket" which is a basket filled with everyday household things with a variety of textures, weights, shapes, and temperatures for the kid to play with, the idea being that you put the basket out and the child quietly entertains themselves exploring the basket for a half hour or more (as in her case).

So I came home from work (I skipped class last night) all fired up to enact this grand vision of sensory, open-ended play. For the Big Yam to be connected to the world and to foster his curiosity and wonder in the everyday, blah blah blah. Total treasure basket fail, guys. I put in a ball of yarn, some cardboard stars, some felt, an ice pack, an ice cream scoop, a bench scraper, a wooden cheese spreader, a mason jar filled with beans and another bag of beans (he's been super into bags of beans lately), set it on the floor, brought him in, and watched expectantly with my eyes a-star with cherished parental hopes while he ignored it completely and clambered over to my legs asking to be picked up. My visions of me dreamily stirring a pot of marshmallows and butter for rice krispie squares while he quietly played in the corner of the kitchen were dashed asunder, much to the cackling, skeptical delight of one Dotytron, esquire. Ah well...play is a learned activity. I'll report back on progress or if this thing is just a dud for my kid.

Behold, Monday's pumpkin stew with warmed parathas in the background - a delightful fall dinner. Last night I had leftover spicy grain soup at work with a mortadella and mozzarella sandwich, which was kind of depressing. The food wasn't depressing, eating at work is. Tonight is more of the same although this time I have leftover chicken dill soup and I'm getting a grilled cheese sandwich from the cafeteria. Too many depressing meals at my desk!!! We have a dodgeball double-header tonight, which is the reason.

I shouldn't complain - I have a slew of 3 and 4 day work weeks coming up. This week is my first earned day off, next week I took Halloween off to take the Big Yam to the drop-in centre and carve pumpkins and whatnot, the week following is Remembrance Day, which is generally a government holiday and then the week after that is my earned day off again. I can get used to this life, even if it makes getting all your work done in the 3 or 4 days a bit of a pinch.

Fin.

Two for Two

We're two for two on the deucing front. Wa wa wee wa.

Yesterday was a fun day. Momma D took the day off and spent it with me and Master T. We had wanted to go to the TIFF Bell Lightbox, but it was closed. Backup option the AGO: also closed. In the end we took the Big Yam by her work so that the ladies could fawn over him and then we went to the Eaton Centre and bought clothes and stuff for him and stocked him up on duds. We had lunch at Paramount on Yonge, which is all kinds of awesome. It's a Lebanese/Middle Eastern restaurant serving shwarmas, sandwiches, hummous, falafel, all kinds of baklawa, Middle Eastern "pizzas" and sweets. It's Halal and doesn't serve booze. The food was delicious! Puffy, fluffy warm pita bread arrives gratis, crying out for a dunk in hummous. Me and Momma D both ordered the lamb sandwich - chunks of juicy grilled lamb rolled up in a pita with turnip pickles, lettuce, tomatoes, and more hummous. I was dying to buy some baklawa and sweets for home (sold, correctly, by the kg), but showed some restraint. I can't wait to go there with my family the next time we're up in Markham.

Before falling asleep last night, the Dotytron and I were talking about our high school principal and trying to recall what he looked like. Then he mentioned our vice principal, and I said that I remembered him from being called into his office one time for my contributions to my friend's underground, dissident high school newspaper, The Epoch. I wrote a series of pieces lambasting "phonies" and stupid gyal dem in my high school. It was kind of hilarious. The Dotytron and I were howling remembering the fallout from my days as a rabble rouser. I said, "I think everyone thought I was writing about the cheerleading girls, but I totally wasn't," and the Dotytron goes, "who were you writing about? Your weird gifted enemies?" LOL!!! I was TOTALLY writing about my weird gifted enemies. It's truly laughable because in the annals of high school dramas, my imagined slights and rivalries with my weird enemies in the gifted program were such a miniscule, fringe element of the Sweet Valley High experience, that they didn't even register to anyone outside of the parties involved, and more likely didn't register to anyone but me. Ha!

Last night for dinner I made us whole wheat spaghetti with roasted cauliflower, chilies, chorizo, lentils & parm.

Tonight for dinner I pulled out a freezer mushroom lasagne and served that with a baby spinach salad with dried cranberries, toasted pecans, and maple vinaigrette.

I also baked the "cowboy cookies" from the Baked:Explorations cookbook. These were pretty tasty - a soft, chewy, oatmeal cookie with a nice sweet/salty balance from the inclusion of crushed pretzels in the batter. I'll post the recipe below.

Fin.

--------------------------------------------------------

Cowboy Cookies

adapted marginally from the Baked: Explorations cookbook

1 3/4 sticks (14 T) butter, softened

3/4 c. granulated sugar

1 c. packed brown sugar

1 large egg

1 egg yolk

1 t. vanilla extract

1 t. instant espresso powder, dissolved in 1/4 c. hot water

1 3/4 c. all purpose flour

1 t. baking soda

1 t. baking powder

1/2 t. salt

2 c. rolled oats

1 1/2 c. chocolate chips

1 1/2 c. salted pretzels, crushed into small pieces but not obliterated into dust (I just put them in a ziploc bag and bang at them with my rolling pin)

- cream the butter and sugars together until smooth and airy

- add the egg and egg yolk, beating until light and fluffy

- scrape down the sides and bottom of the bowl, add the vanilla, and coffee mixture and stir to combine

- in a medium bowl, whisk together the dry ingredients to combine and add the dry ingredients to the butter mixture in 2 batches

- scrape down the sides and bottom of the bowl again and stir in the chocolate chips and pretzel pieces

-wrap the mixing bowl and refrigerate the mixture for approximately 4 hours

- preheat the oven to 350F

- bake 2 T. sized balls of the dough (spaced 1" apart and flattened lightly with the palm of your hand) on lined baking sheets for about 11-13 minutes, or until golden brown.

- consume with cold milk.

I don't want to crow about it

but my kid is a trooper of the highest order. No big deal, just went to B & G's last night at around 7pm, charmed the pants off of EVERYONE, got passed around and was totally cool and chill with being held by a billion people, took a bottle at 8:30pm, then fell asleep in his car seat in the midst of about 15 people eating, doing shots, popping open bottles of bubbly, clapping and shouting: "BLACK FACE! BLACK FACE!" (long story) and otherwise behaving as if there wasn't a child in the room, and stayed there calm as can be until we left at 1am. Seriously? What an amenable little laddie he is.

AND today he did his first deuce in the potty! Huzzah! I had the Dotytron buy this plastic potty from Ikea ($3.99! Shazzam!) and I set it up in the Big Yam's room, lined it with a cloth diaper, and today when I was feeding him and he started giving off poop signals, I pulled off his diaper and sat him down for the first time ever, more to familiarize him with the sitting than anything else, and HE DROPPED OFF SOME COSBY'S AT THE POOL! What the heck?!??? It was awesome! I can't believe how excited I am by this, but that's just the story of my life right now.

Yesterday in class was a TOTAL write-off. So stupid and such a waste of my time. I show up, and the prof starts lecturing about different sections of the Charter, with case examples (ie. a Supreme Court of Canada case about Jehovah's not allowing their kid a blood transfusion) and then stupid dumbos in my class start raising their hand and ASKING QUESTIONS that aren't related to our work in the class but were more suitable for a grade 10 debate/social studies conversation. For example, "but who is to decide when the life of the child outweighs the religious freedoms of the parents?" blah blah blah. SO BORING! I was seriously like, I don't have time for you guys to ask questions just to hear yourselves talk about morals and ethics. That's not what this class is about. So I stayed until after lunch or so and then left. The sucky thing is: it takes me 3 hours of travel time there and back. What a waste of a day. AND I missed JSculls bambino shower because of it, too! Galling.

Friday Momma and Poppa D came over and watched Master T. Look at him holding his own bottle. NOT ALLOWED! Must stay a bambino forever!



Last night was so much fun! B & G had a bunch of high school peeps over and a few newer friends of theirs I hadn't met before and it was a grand time...amazing conversation, amazing food, amazing laughs . Their one friend, Ruby, whom I've met before is a hilarious card who is a bit of a super genius but also will swan around saying stuff like, "my old band's name was 'rape sandwich'" and talk about using Master T (in black face) for a series of Youtube videos he wants to produce on U.S. public policy called "Baby Obama." We ran into him two summers ago and he was wearing a hilarious t-shirt with a GIANT print of Kate Moss' face on it and on the back it said "Kate Moss and La Coca Nostra." LOL!

It was an Italian comfort-food meal in honor of G's birthday - so they had an antipasto-type spread of cheese, baguettes, proscuitto-wrapped asparagus, sardines, cured meats, pesto, chicken liver spread, olives, and then there was a caesar salad, a radicchio-fennel salad I contributed, a veggie lasagne, a meat lasagne, and this cake I baked from the Baked: Explorations cookbook called "Aunt Sassy" cake which is a 3-layer pistachio cake with a honey-vanilla buttercream. The flavours were pretty good - cake was tender and light, but pistachios are notoriously difficult nuts to extract flavour out of so it didn't taste very pistachio-y. The buttercream was delicious - they do a technique where it's a cooked flour type buttercream (not the Swiss or Italian meringue style that I usually do), which I was hesitant about but the end consistency is lovely and rich and lightly sweet. The only problem was the texture was a little grainy, but I think if I had continued to beat the crap out of it, it would have been fine. All in all, delicious. I'm excited to continue baking my way through the book - I think it's one definitely worth owning (thereby breaking my own no-more-cookbooks moratorium):

This morning we got up, a little the worse for wear on account of the late night and headed to Lady Marmalade for breakfast. That place is good, but the lineups are INSANE. We got there at 9:30 - NINE THIRTY!!!!! - and there was ALREADY a line. But the food is pretty tasty. I had this "BLT" (their use of quotes, not mine) which required a pre-committing-to-order clarification on why there were quotes and how far from a real BLT the item actually was. I was like, "is it still a sandwich? How deconstructed is this thing?" In reality, it was quite close - an open-faced sandwich of roasted tomato, baby spinach, poached eggs, bacon and chipotle cream sided with homefries and a pleasantly ginger-y dressing'd salad. The Dotytron had aged cheddar and spinach waffles with tomato-orange cream and a salad and bacon. The waffles were DELICIOUS. A nice revelation for people who prefer a savoury as opposed to sweet breakfast. I think I'm going to try to replicate it at the cottage this summer. The waffles have shredded cheddar and spinach mixed into the batter and then are baked again with more cheese on top. I think I'd add some ham, maybe swap out the cheddar with gruyere, and top with a poached egg as a nod to a croque madam. Nom nom nom.

In other news - we booked a flight to Boston for Victoria Day weekend. I KNOW! Total impulse buy with a Porter Airlines 30% off flight sale as a catalyst. I just want to GET AWAY! And I want to fly with the Big Yam while he's still free and go somewhere with him and the Dotytron. So fiscally irresponsible. I'm claiming it as our 10 year anniversary (!!!) fun trip. I really hope I have a job to come back to, post-election. Eeeks. Plus, Boston seems like the kind of town where it's fun to just walk around and explore and there are enough affordable eats (oysters & lobster rolls & chowder galore!) that I won't feel I'm missing out having to eat with the Big Yam and not doing our usual blow-out meal thing. Now the hunt is on for affordable accommodations.

In other other news, today marked the first day that a substance other than boob sizzurp has passed my kid's lips. We started him on rice cereal today. I was worried he wasn't ready for it, but once he got past the shock of having texture, he basically yelled at me each time I took the spoon away and followed the spoon with his mouth. Pretty cute - but again, a little heart-breaking as yet another milestone passed means that he's that much less my baby. Not allowed! Why can't he stay a baby forever? Why is time going by so G-D fast?

We did some yard work and homework today. Tonight for dinner I made us turkey and black bean tostadas with refried black beans, smeared on a crisp-fried corn tortilla, topped with chili-cooked shredded leftover turkey, shredded lettuce, dice avocado, & sour cream. Tasty use of leftovers, if I do say so myself.

Friday night's dinner was seared salmon with chimichurri sauce, a baked potato with sour cream & butter, and sautéed kale with garlic.

Fin.

P.S. Can you believe I get to wake up next to THESE cheeks every morning? Tell me you understand now why each time he hits a developmental mark it hurts me a little even as I'm proud of him.

Pre-interviewing

This morning we had a PRE-interview for a spot on the waiting list for a home daycare in our neighbourhood. It went really well...it's crazy - it was more about her interviewing us than us interviewing her. We really liked it though...but spots opening up are rare so I doubt we'll get in. The point is: we passed. As the Dotytron says, "you love passing stuff" - it's true. I love being validated by some kind of assessment process. She said she'd put us in her file of people to call if a spot becomes available, but I'm not holding my breath.

Today marks the beginning of sleep training for the Boobla. Dun dun duuuuuuuuuuuuuuun. The daycare lady said that sleep training is super important. We do it at night already - he seems to understand that after giant bottle, swaddle, story, song, and head pats it's time to go to sleep for a good stretch. Nap times are a different story and are pure randomonium currently. He kind of goes down whenever/wherever, averaging about 2 a day. I don't really see the point of structured naps because I'm not finding his randomonium impeding my daily life - like, I'm still leaving the house and doing my errands on my own time, and he pretty reliably falls asleep/chills out whenever he's in his stroller/carrier. But I can see why daycare providers would prefer a kid who consistently knows how to put themselves to sleep at fairly regular times of the day.

[edit: time lapse]

Well, we just had a visit from my friend in my book club C, who brought her 6 month old baby N along. This means a few things: 1) Sleep Training: Nap edition has been postponed because he's all jacked up and we're about to go for a walk to our local yarn purveyor, which means that once he's in the car seat in the stroller he's going to conk out, requiring negatory training. 2) I got all freaked out because C is part of like, 3 different mom clubs and does mom & baby yoga, mom & baby cardio, and has a tonne of friends with babies. I'm all worried that **I** should join a billion mom clubs or that the fact that I'm perfectly content to meet up with people a couple of times a week and to see friends/family on weekends and spend the rest of the time at home doing errand-y/house-y/grad school-y type stuff means that there's something wrong with me.

I mean, I don't feel like I'm lacking in social interaction. If anything, I feel like our social calendar is too busy, considering it's only the second weekend of February and we're already booking into March. And I'm really happy to hang out at home, calling our mechanic, calling daycares, working on my school stuff, going grocery shopping, going to the library, and making nice dinners...so I guess I just answered my own question. There are many models of maternity leave and motherhood and I suppose mine don't include hanging with a bunch of stranger-lady moms drinking coffee and talking about parenting styles, per se.

That being said, I do have enough people in my life who have babies. Some are good friends from work, some are more acquaintances from various points in my life - if I slot them all in once a week, I feel like I'm doing enough socializing with people who can answer my questions on sleep training and when to start solid foods and what's the next car seat level to go up to (since Master T's feet are DANGLING OFF THE ENDS OF HIS INFANT CAR SEAT AT NOT EVEN FOUR MONTHS OLD). Oy. This kid is a juggernaut.

This is Monday's curried sweet potato soup, which we had with a baby spinach salad and warmed pita with PC baba ghanouj:

Last night for dinner I made that broiled feta, grape tomatoes, and olive thing with rosemary and chili oil - so simple to put together and so tasty scooped up with more warmed pita. We had a hearty caesar salad on the side:

This week of eating healthfully has been going well so far. I am considerably buoyed by the fact that I've been fitting into my pre-pregnancy skinny jeans. Only one pair though. One pair that I'm pretty sure was mislabeled a 27" waist. WHATEVER. I want to get back into a regular yoga routine, if for nothing else than to give my jacked-up back a break from hauling the little electric tubalub around.

Tonight we had shrimp po' boys with a celery root and apple remoulade and kale chips:

The shrimp was dredged in flour with creole seasoning, then an egg wash, and then a masa harina/cornmeal mixture with creole seasoning. The remoulade had Zataran's creole mustard in there. This dinner was DELICIOUS.

I feel like I've gotten my knitting mojo back. I'm starting a scarf for the Dotytron (thus the trip to the Purple Purl today) and a hat for myself. Trying to eke out time is damn near impossible but I have to start prioritizing this stuff, if for no other reason than it makes me feel like more of a whole, normal being again. There are exciting plans a foot for my super-close, super-longtime friend T to come and visit from Vancouver at the end of April and I'm BEYOND excited. WestJet was having a 72 hour seat sale and I wanted to capitalize on it, but being tied to the school calendar is really limiting and it would have meant that we would have flown to Vancouver for only 2.5 days, which even at the heavily discounted seat sale rate, doesn't make sense. So instead I've cajoled her into coming here! Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!

This summer is going to be the summer of fun poverty. My work maternity leave top-up dries out in late June, which means we'll be running on fumes. But we have my family's cottage week to look forward to, cottage time at the Dotytron's family cottage hopefully, a road trip to Cleveland, maybe some time spent at the farm with R & R and their menagerie, and definite weekends in Geneseo. Pretty damn full if not exactly glamorous.

Speaking of R&R Acres - R gave us this pair of baby slippers for the Boobla and they're THE BEST. Not only do we want them for ourselves, but seeing him wearing what comes down to baby Uggs is hilarious. The best is when he's in a little short sleeved onesie and wearing them - boy babies in Uggs are the cutest, if only because they remind us of Jason Segel in I Love You, Man.

Fin.

it's a tough slog

to all the people who said that doing my masters while on mat leave was crazy - yous was right. it's too hard carving out the time, when you've got master T in his 4 states: crying because of upset tummy, crying because he's hungry, crying because he's over tired, the 15 minutes of grace you get of not crying after having spent an hour addressing one of the other three states of being.

but then...but then...in those 15 minutes, you get stuff like this:

and even though the pictures are blurry as all get-out...those 15 minutes of prime time T make it all worth while. things of note in the above photos:

- i love his chubbo, super-distended belly and how cinched it gets by his diapers
- i love his smile, which is now frequently accompanied by a version of cooing. i call it a version of cooing because it's more like baby raptor squawking.
- i love how the second photo is pure, "yesssss!" accompanied by a fist pump.

we've been avoiding doing any reading on 1 month and 2 month milestones, because a half-hearted venture into the fear-mongering annals of "what to expect the first year" made us feel really bad for poor, el chupido, master T. they're saying that he should be able to hold up his head at a 45 degree angle, focus on a small object like a raisin (!!!) and smile in response to us smiling, among other things. when we read through the list of "should be able to, might be able to, may possibly be able to" the dotytron and i turned to each other, tugged on our imaginary collars, whispered "awkward" and then tucked the book away, never to be looked at again. lol! look, i love my wall-eyed dummy of a kid. as the dotytron said, "it doesn't matter, look how cute he is!" to which i replied, "yeah, but there's a statute of limitations on how far that will carry him!" in summation: it's best not to think about it.

so, guess who was a crying mess on sunday night at the thought of the boobla going to sleep in his crib? ME, OF COURSE. blah. because i'm a big softie. because i'm all too aware that the moments are flying by and i want to revel in each and every one of them. because i love waking up and turning my head and seeing his sleeping, open-mouthed little face next to mine. but i've been semi-strong. he's gone to sleep in his crib for the past 3 nights and stayed there for the most part. last night i brought him in with us only because he didn't get up to feed until about 5am and i groggily justified it to myself as okay because it's so close to our waking time.

we just picked up a new set of $20 target flannel sheets that are THE BOMB...so soft and smushy and warm and cozy. oh man, target in canada better be as good as target US, otherwise, what's the point?

i did a very half-assed job on tonight's presentation yesterday. i'm forgoing the powerpoint presentation, even though one of my classmates, when i mused about just doing an oral presentation, turned to me and asked, "how would you do a presentation without power point?" in all seriousness. it's only worth 10% of my mark, so i think i'll do okay. i'm pulling a mid-80s average in the course already. then, in a bid for thrifty-studentness, i'm basically just slapping some headings onto my presentation, reducing the font size to a more reasonable 12pt (i like a large font for presentations) and then submitting that as my research paper proposal. ta-da! then all i have to do is the actual research paper - 20 pages, no biggie, right? *weak laughter*

this is what we've been eating lately. monday night i opted out of making the lentil curry in favour of freezer soup with my new favorite sandwich: grilled aged cheddar (NOT made on the panini press), white onion, and hot pepper jelly. last night i made a big batch of chicken noodle soup for the dotytron who has been whinging about coming down with a cold lately. we ate it with warm, crusty, olive chipotle bread from fred's breads:


tonight is the lentil curry with steamed brown rice.

okay...i have to do a billion NON PRESENTATION RELATED THINGS (thanks, mum for making me edit your paper!) before class tonight.

fin

unintended consequence of having children

okay, you guys know how much i love packing cars, right? oh, you didn't? well, i LOVE packing cars. and i LOVE packing suitcases for vacations. and i LOVE organizing purses. i love doing it so much that we have a whole routine set up when i pack a car where i yell at the dotytron, "think modular!" and then i get frustrated with how he's "not doing it right" and then take over, and then make everyone stop what they're doing and look at how awesomely i packed the car. it's very ritualistic.

one of the best unintended consequences of having a baby is that you spend a CRAPLOAD of time packing and preparing and making sure you have all your shiz together before you go anywhere. even going from upstairs to downstairs requires a mental checklist. this is putting me over the moon. i've got a packed diaper bag, a packed diaper caddy, a packed back-of-the-car-seat-organizer. it's THE BEST! we're supposed to be spending the night up in markham tonight so i've been packing for that. extra outfits, diapers, wipes, washcloths, swaddling blankets, etc. etc. i'm as happy an industrious pig as can be.

the dotytron teaches an early morning private lesson in richmond hill on saturdays, and our supper club is doing a burbs edition at this place, restoran malaysia, to accommodate the burb contingent of the supper club crew, who had a baby in july, so it makes the most sense for us to just decamp to markham for the day.

i made a broccoli cheddar soup and cheddar pancetta sage biscuits for dinner on wednesday:

last night's dinner was kind of rough. it was kraft dinner, a billion hot dogs, and then these random samosas my mum brought over, which had no discernible flavour other than "crispy." it was kind of crazy and salty and not very good for your colon-y.

tonight momma and poppa d are bringing a lentil soup over that has lamb, and bread, and salad for dinner. we're being so spoiled. dr. rei came over today and brought pozole and H and sweet baby D came over for a visit - we had a fun time, gabbing and stuffing baby D with wagon wheels.

fin.

cleveland rocks

our friends H & A were in town from cleveland and stayed with us last night. we were the last stop before they headed back to the cleve on their whirlwind vacation to new england. it's always so good to see them. they're exactly like us! two total nerds who love food and eating and most of the same things we like. the best! we took them to this place, hanoi 3 seasons which does quasi-upscale vietnamese food. H is my mum's old friend J's son, and he owns a few japanese restaurants in cleveland and he's a total foodie - his first pick is always asian food, too. we followed that up with ice cream at ed's real scoop. so good.

as my belly gets bigger (seriously guys, i'm a whale of a tale right now) i'm realizing i can actually eat less than i would normally. when i get full i get REALLY full - like it feels like my stomach is a super-taut drum skin stretched way too tight. it's very uncomfortable.

i did a wack load of grocery shopping and stocked up on fruits and veggies and planned super-healthy meals for this week but i'm being hijacked at every turn. my cottage diet of cheetos and lipton's noodle and sauce and dessert every night in anticipation of a gestational diabetes diagnosis that thankfully never came has come to an end, thankfully. eating super-rich, super-meat-heavy meals takes a lot out of you. eggs and bacon and sausage and weekend brunch type breakfasts every day get a little wearing. i'm craving salads and freshness and a resumption of my life cereal with raspberries for breakkie and fruit for a treat with saugeen country yoghurt.

the gestational diabetes test is a bit of a mind-f**k. you fast overnight and then they take your fasting blood and make you drink this super sugary drink and then test your blood 1 hour and then 2 hours after to see how your body is processing the sugar. the drink was totally over-hyped by people i talked to. ladies were like, "i felt like vomiting, it was so sweet" etc., etc., but it's really a small amount of liquid (way less than 500ml) and they serve it to you chilled and it's carbonated. it tastes like orange fanta - i'd say it's even less sweet than orange crush at the end of the day.

i got my results back and i'm in the clear. which is nice. it doesn't mean i'm going to let up on my pre-cottage eating habits - i'm still cutting out juice and drinking big glasses of milk instead and avoiding white foods but it's nice knowing that ed's real scoop is still a viable post-dinner constitutional destination for the remainder of the summer.

the problem is: this week is mental! last night we went out for food (yummy, healthy, clean-tasting vietnamese food, but still). today for lunch we took my colleague G out for a swiss chalet group lunch as it's her last week of work before mat leave. friday night momma and poppa d are hosting us for a belated birthday dinner. friday lunch dr. rei is INSISTING on taking me out for a pusateri's meal. saturday we're having brunch at our friends' S & P's place and sunday night is our supper club.

how am i supposed to combat those forces!?! i'm definitely hitting up the lane swim tonight and since i ate a 1/4 chicken dinner with a heap of fries i'm going to eat fruit and nuts and yoghurt for "dinner" tonight and try to avoid eating two giant meals in a day. this means that upon the dotytron's return home he'll turn to me and ask "what's for dinner" and i'll explain that i'm not making dinner tonight and why and then his FIRST DEFAULT INSTINCT will be to get takeout instead of taking the TONNES OF TONNES OF RAW MATERIALS IN OUR FRIDGE AND TURNING THEM INTO A MEAL FOR HIMSELF. that's his signature move. then i yell at him (that's MY signature move) and then he'll sulkily make himself like, the worst meal ever (like peanut butter on bread with cottage cheese) and eat that.

have i told you already (forgive me, but i write here ALOT and sometimes i plumb forget if i've regaled your with stories before, mmmkay?) about how i've been having mad anxiety about what little time will be available to me in the weeks after the fatburger is born and how i'm worried that he's going to be colicky and that i'll be up all night and not getting enough sleep but STILL wanting with every fiber of my type A being to maintain the same standards of living that i prided myself in prior to ejecting a little squirming babe and that i'm expecting the dotytron to pick up the slack on house cleaning and meal cooking? and that to that end i've been quizzing him on how to make food because pretty much ever since i stopped being a cook and started being a librarian, i've been doing the cooking because 8-5 jobs are conducive to you living our your passions like that. so i've been doing stuff like ambushing him with: "TELL ME STEP BY STEP HOW YOU MAKE PASTA CARBONARA" and then screaming my head off when he doesn't do things in the right sequence or neglects to TELL me that he's going to reserve some of the pasta cooking water to loosen a gummy tacky sauce?

speaking of that, i actually haven't given him the treatment in a while. i should. i think it's important for our child to see that both parents share in domestic duties and that it's not like the mum is the ONLY one responsible for putting out salsa in little serving dishes and shaking the tortilla chips into bowls and the pops is the ONLY one responsible for doing anything related to the grill and leaning on hamburgers with a bbq spatula and squeezing out all the juice *shudders* in our house though, the pops IS the only one responsible for un-chonging the toilet because as we all know, poo (and chinotto) is my nemesis.

fin.