That be Fun

I thought we were going to the Laurie Berkner concert for the kids. But I realized today that I wanted to go for myself. This became abundantly clear when DD had a breakdown 20 minutes into the show and wanted to go home. DP took her into the lobby to recover, though she was calling for me, but I stayed behind with DS. He quickly decided that he couldn't be without his sissy. So we left. And I didn't want to. I like Laurie Berkner. She's pretty much the only music I listen to these days and I like it. She's kinda like a silly Indigo Girl. Maybe a little funkier. And I wanted to see her. And I didn't want to go home. This was my day in the city, something wildly different from my usual suburban day, and I wanted it to be perfect, transcendant, even.

Let me start from the beginning.

The inspiration came to me as I was checking out the LB website for upcoming tv appearances. There was a concert. In the city. "That be fun," as DS says. We liked her CDs, watched her DVD, and saw her on Noggin and Jack's Big Music Show. Everytime we passed a certain clump of trees outside the library, DS would sit down and start singing, "Under a Shady Tree." I always invoked the dinosaur song, with "stop and take a rest," during naptime. We loved to play chase to "I'm Gonna Catch You," ever since we first heard that song at a church playgroup. Surely we were old enough to sit and listen to our favorite musician for an hour.

I told my friends and my playgroup, and three other families thought "that be fun" too. On the day the tickets went on sale, DP was charged with securing the best seats. Then the Carnegie Hall website crashed, sending panic throughout tristate suburbia and preschooler parents everywhere. But got the tickets we did, eventually. DP swore she wasn't going to be the one parent to turn up ticketless. I think it took her an hour. By then, we had balcony seats, but all the way at the front. This made me a little nervous, given our propensity for throwing things and climbing, but surely there would be enough distractions.

For weeks, we discussed ideas for the day (being the New Yorkers in the group--her by birth, me because we were living in the city on September 11. Yes, Mom, I'm still a Texan. It's a paradox. And another post.): driving, train, or a combo? Would we travel together as a group and have lunch? We learned it was NYC Marathon day. Hmmm, that made driving a challenge. So we were going to drive halfway and take the train the rest of the way. But the availability of seats on the way in and the traffic on the way home squashed that. So, train all the way it was. Where to eat? Something toursity and predictable like Hard Rock? Or take our chances with local cafes. Finally, we decided Carnegie Deli would work for our allergies, with turkey and matzo ball soup.

The day arrived--beautiful, especially after the hurricane that was Day out with Thomas--and the kids were excited. They loved the train ride in, even enjoying playing "fort" in the shelter on the platform with DP as we waited for it to arrive. Perfect facing window seats let each of them have a window and they looked out excitedly identifying clouds, trees, cars, trucks, boats, and bridges. And talked about all the people and what they were wearing--the man behind us, fully decked out in Redskins paraphenalia for the game, was the "Red Man." Apropos, no? Actually, looking around the train--with the orthodox Jewish family next to us, several Asian men, and several African Americans--reminded me of the importance of leaving our rather uniform small town (where we are the diversity for others) and visiting the menagerie of the city. Though, I soon became rather uncomfortable with the "talk about the people" game and issued a "it's not nice to talk about other people" edict. I could just hear them saying something about someone being big or old.

They loved walking off the platform into the giant space that is GCT. DD just stood there, mouth agape, spinning around looking at the stars and all the people. DS was a little overwhelmed and needed us in hand for the walk to the subway. Which they loved. DP let DD hang from the overhead bar, the city's littlest straphanger. DS followed suit and they (and the other, probably out of town, riders) laughed all the way to Carnegie Hall.

And we got out in the crisp, cool air of a beautiful fall day, surrounded by imposing, impressive skyscreapers. The sidewalks were full of cops and pedestrians heading to the marathon, with taxis and buses and cars heading away from the closed streets. And, oh, that NYC smell. We walked towards CPS and got lots of orange doo-dads from the ING people--hats, glasses, and pom pons--to cheer for marathoners. We didn't see too many, just a few men and women in the wheelchair cycles. But DS wore his hat and waved his pom pon each time they passed. DD was more interested in the smell. I had realized I could smell horses and so she started sniffing and then kepty asking where they were. A pile of manure proved they had been there recently.

Lunch was at Carnegie Deli--corned beef for me and DP, turkey and matzo ball soup for the kids--though both ate more pickles than anything else. And DD liked the corned beef more than the turkey; she is DP's daugher, afterall. And as lunch ended, DP realized the waitresses were talking about the twins in Thai, so she interjected and suddenly we had a whole coterie of waitresses admiring their skin color and wider-than-almond eyes--"not the slit eyes of the Chinese''--DP held her tongue. And the kids said "Sawadee" to them all.

And it was time for the concert. At Carnegie Hall. Ironically, it was my very first concert there. And it's beautiful, even filled with crying toddlers missing their afternoon naps. We got two "Shaky Eggs" to play with and then tried desperately to wait for the doors to open. The poor house staff; I'm not sure they're used to preschoolers running and climbing everywhere and they were so flustered. They even opened early, I think, because of the mounting chaos in the lobby.

Our seats were frightening--first row, top balcony--perfect for dropping shaky eggs or programs on other preschoolers, or whole toddler bodies. Did I mention I don't like heights? I'm sure I scared the kids with the death grips in which I held their little excited bodies.

And then some guy talked. Yadda-yadda-yadda. We need Laurie! Don't you understand we were up an hour early because of the time change? That we walked and left strollers at home? That we didn't nap yet? This concert needs to start and finish before BREAKDOWN time.

Later, DD told us that Laurie wore yellow and Susie wore brown. DP didn't even know Susie's name. But then she doesn't know all the words to "I'm a Mess" either. And they played guitars. And the piano. DD sat mesmerized and stared at it all. DS did too, as I bounced him on my knee and sang the songs. Most of our favorites.

But we lost it before "Pig on Her Head." And I could see the pig sitting on the prop table so I knew it was coming. But DD was done. And then DS didn't want to be there alone. And we quickly took a cab to GCT, where we caught the same train we would have if we'd seen the whole thing.

And I cried all the way there, just as they cried all the way home on the train. I was disappointed. I wanted to see the concert. I wanted it to be this memorable, amazing experience. And we didn't get to see it all. And they weren't happy; indeed, they were miserable. And it was my fault. I had dragged us to this concert, thinking it was such a good idea. With no strollers, with no nap. And I was embarrassed, ashamed even, in front of my friends, not because the kids were upset but because it hadn't gone well, because somehow I had done something wrong, because I had failed my kids.

The next day, all they remembered was how much fun they had. That Susie had worn brown. And Laurie had played the guitar. That we had sung and danced. And they had ridden in a taxi. That be fun.

Is that a Question?

"Mommy want to leave?"

The children looked at me from the edges of the coffee table, desperate to climb on top.

My kiddos don't need me anymore. Just now, both DD and DS queried, "Mommy want to leave?" Which sounds like a question, but isn't, if you are familiar with their sentence structure. When they want you to do something, they phrase it as an question, when actually it is more of a statement. The above should be translated, "Mommy, I want you to leave." It took me awhile to understand this construction but, after weeks of "Mommy want to put my shoes on?" and "Mommy want to hold Shirt?", I figured it out.

So, today's question was actually a direction. One that asked me to vacate the premises so that they could play on top of the table.

I never thought the day would come.

Now I can catch up on those long blog posts.

Right after I stop crying.

While they dance on the table.

Elements of My Style

After a few months of blogging, I've realized a few things about my style. I tend to have two kinds of posts: long, narrative pieces intended mainly for faraway family and friends who want detailed kiddo updates and shorter, (hopefully) comic pieces that tickle my funny bone and (hopefully) that of any other reader. Recently, there have been a lot of the former, not as many of the latter. This is mainly because all of the funny things have happened during larger events, i.e. Day out with Thomas (where do you put the capitals in that, anyway?), and are thus embedded in those stories. But these long ones take me longer to write and, as there have been a lot recently, I am woefully behind. Meanwhile, I'm forgetting the cute, random things that happen everyday that would otherwise make it in a post.

By the way, writing for an audience that isn't the casual recipient of a late-night email, has made me very aware of grammar and spelling. I don't spell check because usually I'm pretty good (as well as an accurate typist), but I do have a habit of substituting homynyms--like warn for worn and the like--mainly because I say my sentences outloud in my head as I type. Besides, spell check wouldn't pick that up anyway. And grammar. I pride myself on being a decent grammarian, and even understanding the rules (thanks to years of Latin and Greek, and a lot less French and German). I sometimes intentionally break the rules--I like dashes and fragments. But I find that I am increasingly flummoxed by the placement of commas, at times (especially near quotes, or lists of quotes). And way too lazy to check grammargrrl.com for the rule. I am partial to the comma. And still a firm adherent to the old rule that commas go after ever item in a list, including the one before "and." I'll never forget the example my teacher used. It was about a will. The will left money to "Albus, Hermione and Morgan." Which meant Albus got half and Hermione and Morgan split the other half. If the will had read, "Albus, Hermione, and Morgan," they would've split it equally. Right. Nowadays, apparently, Hermione and Morgan would be much happier.

You should know, I believe, in storytelling anyway, that truth is relative and hyperbole is important. Poetic license is my guiding principal. DP knows this applies to everything. I naturally exaggerate by about 25%. Ask me how many people were in line in front of me at the grocery store or how many time DD dropped her Shirt in the car, and I will increase the number almost exponentially. Without even thinking about it. I think it's a Lone Star State storytelling characteristic--everything is bigger and better.

Oh, and I love titles. Usually, I think of the title before I even write the post. Like today.

Okay, enough deconstruction, back to writing my long post on our trip into the city to see Laurie Berkner.

Connecticut Yankees in Sir Topham Hatt's Court

We had a hurricane on Saturday, the day we had bought tickets months ago to spend a Day out with Thomas. And despite the dismal weather, we went to Essex and had a wonderful time. Good yankees (even transplants like myself) aren't deterred by a little rain and 45 mph winds. Besides, it made it all more British. I mean, who expects perfect, sunny weather on the oh-so-Anglo Isle of Sodor? And our kiddos don't notice weather anyway.

Which is good, because it started to spit as we arrived in eastern CT. As a sign of good things to come, however, we got one of the last parking spots in the closest lot. From there, we entered the festival grounds and almost immediately saw Thomas the Tank Engine pulling in a passenger train. DD and DS were beside themselves--it was Big Thomas! And they were going to ride on him!

But first, they wanted to ride all the kiddie rides. Carousel, first. Up and down, around and around--their favorite ride at the zoos. Then they spotted the little train. Which parents aren't allowed to ride. Hmmm, two year olds alone on a questionable mechanical ride. But you have to let go sometime, and they seemed so determined as they climbed into the train car themselves and sat on the same side but not too close to one another. Stoically, they rode around on the jerky, miniature train, smiling each time they saw us wave. Our little kids were all grown up. And wanted to ride again. DS headed straight to the engine--he didn't even exit and re-enter, but luckily there was no line--and sat right now with the bell pull within reach. Sis sat across from him and they drove the train. And then moved on to the fire trucks, on which they were the only kids not crying like the visitors to Santa in A Christmas Story.

As the downpour picked up we headed to the Thomas shop. While not thrilled with the commercialism (or burgeoning brand loyalty), we perused the offerings and chose two little trains for our wooden track. A Thomas for DS and a purple train named Rosie for DD (her choice, because of the purple, no doubt. Though, when asked, she says her favorite color is green). And we loved watching the model train at the back of the shop. ImaginationStation downstairs was equally enthralling, with toy train sets and coloring sheets and free tattoos. Oddly, the kiddos, especially DD, were really excited about Sir Topham Hatt (though she calls him Sir Captain Hat). See, we don't really watch Thomas and Friends, they just like trains. So, I can't imagine how they really have any grasp of who the man in the morning suit is. But DD wanted to see him, though not enough to stand in line, and so we took her back over and over.

It was our ticket time to ride Thomas. "All Aboard," the conductor called. And we gleefully climbed aboard our passenger car. Sitting in facing seats, the kids jubilantly waved out the window at anyone, and most of them waved back. Soon the train pulled out of the station and we were on our way. I'll hand it to the organizers, the little stories they told during the trip made sense of why Thomas was in back of the train and then why we later reversed direction. There were also stories about being good. None of which my kiddos paid any attention to. They were driving their own Thomas and Rosie up and down the window ledges and across the seats, then drawing pictures in the condensation of the glass. DP draws a mean tank engine and several kids in nearby seats watched. The ride was just long enough that we enjoyed it but didn't get bored. We disembarked and waved goodbye to Thomas, soon heading to lunch in a nearby restaurant and home.

The epilogue of my story wraps up our very British day: we had a tea party at home. Using her pink and green tin tea set, DD served tea to myself and her brother, repeatedly. She'd pour the tea, we'd drink, she'd take the cups and pour again. Over and over. We added the milk bottle from the baby set because I like milk in my tea. There were even slices of cake, from the birthday cake set, and we ate those on pretty little plates, singing "Happy Birthday" for each of us, a few times. And when I told her how much I liked her tea, DD hopped up, grabbed a post it and crayon, and wrote out the recipe for me.

All in all, a marvelous day.

Out of the Mouths of Babes, III

DD likes to play with her food. Sometimes, she uses banana peels as ladders from the table to her plate so the other food can "walk" up and down. Often, she identifies objects in the food she eats--that's a train, that's a car. I'm hoping she'll find a Mary or Jesus so I can sell it on eBay and send them both to college. And today she was making families out of vegetables.

"This is Mommy Carrot. This is Baby Carrot, next to Mama Carrot. Daddy Carrot is way over there, hiding in the peas."

Every Dog Has Her Day

I felt like Super Mommy today, offering lots of interesting experiences and surviving all the ups and downs with great patience. I should've asked to borrow my friend J's Halloween costume complete with cape! We had a grand day. Mostly. But I'm going to skip those bad bits since I'm writing this blog. The truth is all relative, of course. And if I'm a superhero, this is my mythology.

First off, we skipped storytime because the kids wanted to stay home to play. Considering we're going to be out all weekend, and have traveled a lot recently, I thought this was fine.

We lined up the little chairs and played train. Numerous times we bounced our way along--DD said we were going to a party--and then "de-trained" with our bags of party supplies, food and musical instruments. We did our exercises. Listened to Zydeco, our favorite type of music right now, the Laurie Berkner concert notwithstanding. Watched a few of our favorite Dora the Explorer and Thomas the Train episodes. Ate green grapes (hooray!), bananas (BA-NA-NAS!), and corn chips (yay!). And two whole bags of mixed vegetables. Full of snacks and lunch, we headed to the grocery store where we rode in the special car cart and searched for items on my list.

AND WE NAPPED IN THE CAR FOR AN HOUR!!!!

We even went for a walk, which is a recent addition to our schedules. We used to ride in the wagon but haven't done much walking outside recently because the kiddos haven't been sticking together well. So, we've been practicing walking in the neighborhood, picking up leaves and looking around. Today we even ran into a neighbor and went inside for a bit to visit her family. DD was scared of the big English Mastiff but liked sitting in the daughter's wheelchair (at her invitation). When it came time for DS's turn, DD insisted that he buckle up "so he can be safe" (guess what tv show that's from.). Afterwards, we played in our backyard. They like playing pirate ship from the playset with the new "spotting scope" and steering wheel my folks installed. DD spots dolphins orcas, and the like, while DS drives. Then they colored the deck with chalk

But the best part was art in the afternoon. DD spent a long time painting. She did 10-12 sheets of paper, carefully narrating what she was painting. My favorite was what I will call the transportation painting. She started with two colorful blobs, a yellow one for the train and a brown one for the boat. The she added lines--the way to church, the way to Target, the way to school. There were also lines for the sky and then blobs for clouds. I was amazed. And luckily it was the one painting on the last sheet of good watercolor paper.

To finish our arts and crafts time, we made the bathtub crayons that were featured in the recent Parent and Child. After much coaching not to eat the ingredients (I had made the mistake of calling it a recipe). we stirred pink, yellow, green, and blue paste and poured it into an egg carton to harden. We won't know for a few days if it works, but until then, I'll polish my Super Mommy crown.

-=-=-=-=-

Bathtub Crayons

1 cup gentle soap powder (I used Ivory Flakes)
4-6 drops food coloring
2-3 teaspoons water

Stir until you have a pasty consistency. Spoon the mixture into an ice cube tray (we used an old egg carton; I've also read that people use toilet paper rolls) and let it dry for about four days in a sunny spot. Use in the tub.

Parent and Child

Holiday Withdrawl

It's my first experience not liking a holiday.

Mind you, I loved Halloween this year. On Halloween.

But for two days now, I've soothed tears cried because Mr. Dave's pumpkins and ghosts aren't decorating his yard, attempted to explain that we won't be going trick-or-treating dressed as jaguars again tonight, and denied the consumption of candy at every meal and snack and in between. It's been rough going. Particularly because every time they see the pictures from the evening, they want to start it all over again.

And who can blame them.

Especially because Thanksgiving just doesn't promise to be as interesting.

A Family that Exercises Together . . .

What is it about a mommy on the floor that is an irresistible draw to toddlers and cats?

I've been trying to do the new exercises my PT gave me yesterday and everytime I start a clamshell or the like, I find an extra 27 lbs on my legs and fur in my face. While resistance training (is that even a concept?) is great for tip-top shape athletes, I'm sure, it isn't quite what my therapist ordered. Besides, it's not like I never sit cross-legged on the floor playing trains or animal farm, or throwing foily balls and catnip mice, but there is something about the supine position that is just too much fun.

You should see how excited everyone gets when I pull out my stretchy band!

At least they're getting excited about exercising, right?

Halloween, Part 2-Got Candy?

It's a good thing we took the kiddos for their first trip to the dentist yesterday because today we ate more candy than they've had in a lifetime. More on the dentist some other time because it seems somehow inappropriate to talk positively about a profession that deems raisins too chewy and sweet on a day devoted to the consumption of much more indulgent treats.

And indulge we did. Starting at about 8:45 this morning. After testing the sweet potato bars I made for the playgroup party this morning, we kicked off the holiday with lollipops on the way to the party. Now, I want to begin this by saying we have tried to raise DD and DS in as gender neutral a way as possible, all things considered. They didn't really wear pink and blue as babes and we have all sorts of toys generally associated with each gender. We even go so far sometimes as to reverse it. That's not to say we're going to be gender-blind but we are trying to be as sensitive and stereotype free as possible. That said, DD thinks only she should have pink things and DS should have blue. This color specificity has reared its ugly head with pajamas, snack cups, and now lollipops. Because the mystery lollipop in the reddish-pink wrapper she choose today turned out to be blue. And DS had a pink one. She cried for a switch all the way to the party, eventually tossing her blue one into the nether regions of the minivan. DS was content with his and finished it before we arrived.

The party itself was a delight, with all of our little friends cheerfully arrayed in a variety of costumes. Ours were pretty much the only ones homemade. And pretty much the only ones that didn't get warned. Is that just a coincidence?

This evening was the culmination of the festivities--four parties later and it was actually Halloween! We had eaten candy all over the county, worn and not worn our costumes on several occasions, and practiced "trick or treat" and "thank you" ad infinitum. DD, warming my own heart, was eager to get dressed and go get candy, while brother took an extra 20 minutes to eat his taco dinner. While we waited for DS to finish up, DD insisted I wear my own costume as a witch (actually a Hogwarts professor, complete with my own knitted Gryffindor scarf, but few people caught on) so I donned my undergraduate graduation robes and a pointy hat. Eventually, off we went.

It only took one house for DD to have a complete grasp of the Halloween concept. She rushed up to the highly decorated door of our neighbor's house and jubilantly called "trick or treat" long before they made it to the storm door. She also proudly announced at this, and all the other houses, "we're jaguars!" Usually before being asked. Which worked fine for me--guesses such as chocolate chip cookie and puppy dog and lion were starting to demoralize me (since it was my costume design and execution).

Indeed, so well did she understand her role in the fulfillment of the holiday ritual that she was a bit dismayed when the children in the second house ran out to meet her with candy before she could say her lines. She took it anyway, though. Of course.

And where was DS in all of this? Well, he shone at the next house, on the step of our friend G. Her kids were gathering with the rest of the neighborhood gang, which we were fortuitously in time to join, and she sat on the steps with a big bowl of candy. DS siddled up to her and began to reach for the lollipop sticking out. And then he saw another and another, which he kept putting in the bag. Much to my horror. DP encouraged me to hold my tongue (after I had apologized several times and even put some of the pops back) as he literally sat down next to G, who found this hysterically funny, and began stealthily grabbing each white stick he could find. And what good eyes he has! We'd think he'd gotten them all and he'd extract another one, something like an expert player in that game with those really thin rods built into a towering pile (pick up sticks?). And he was so quiet, trying not to attract any attention. Other kids came and went but DS sat there unfazed, gathering the little lollipops unto himself. Maybe he should've been Swiper!

DD was in her element too. She got her pieces of candy, preferring the white boxes of the Junior Mints, and then checked on the other kids, "you got candy?" And she'd pass out G's, and later other people's, candy to those around her, peering into their bags to make sure everything was copacetic. She finally tired of this and rushed ahead to the next house to get more candy. It was only because she was smaller than the others and not as surefooted on steps that she wasn't the first to the door everytime.

I thought it was wonderful that our kiddos hooked up with the big group and trick or treated as a gang, even posing for pictures on the steps of one house. It reminded me of my own childhood Halloweens with all our neighborhood friends. The mild weather (at about 68F) was even the same, even if the fall colored leaves and architecture were completely different. It's a prime example of why we moved to the burbs and wanted to raise children here. I should say, though, that in my child's mind we would walk for hours and miles getting tons of candy. While my kids were the youngest and therefore turned back early tonight, the older kids still didn't get "all the way" to my house down the block, too worn out by it all. So we have lots of candy I don't like leftover. But all the playdough I bought is gone, having been extremely popular with both the toddler and teenage set.

So, we did head home early, with DD twirling her jaguar ears around as a magic wand and DS stopping by G's house to get some more lollipops. We spent the rest of the holiday on the porch with the candy spread all over the (now sticky) exercise trampoline, talking to grandparents, aunts and uncles, and hopping up every now and then to pass out candy to the visitors to our own house. DD sampled every bit of candy they got (while we quickly weeded out the ones she couldn't try, like the ones with peanuts. And our own personal favorites.) She tried Dots and Starburts, Kit Kats and M&Ms, skittles and tootsie rolls, usually taking a small bite and then putting the rest back on the trampoline. There were little colored candies everywhere. She even fed me, passing along an M&M or Skittle between her own samples. But DD was the funny one: he unwrapped every single last lollipop from G's, took various licks, often held 3 or 4 in his hands at once, and then piled them up for safe-keeping. By bath time, they'd found their way into the front of the miniature Good Humor ice cream truck scooter we have.

And despite the sugar high, the babes are in bed and DP herself snores next to me. Our black cats are safe in their room, having celebrated what we consider the official holiday of black cats everywhere with their own big bowl of wet can food. All is well.

Now if I just had one of DS's lollipops . . .

Out of the Mouths of Babes, II

Setting: our minivan in the driveway
Action: DS climbing into the front seat to "drive" despite strict instructions to get in his car seat
Mommy: "You are in trouble."
DD (sitting admirably and enviously in her car seat): "I want to be in trouble."

Out of the Mouths of Babes

This from DD on the monitor, the red lights of which indicate that no sleeping is happening (or has been in the 20+ minutes of singing and playing and reading; there was a long debate about which nursery rhyme to sing):

"I might be tired? We might be tired? I am very tired. I need my pillow."

Then after much exchanging of pillows and stuffed animals, DS asserts, "Mommy, I'm awake."

Not DD: "I'm not awake."

Segregation

Well, my daughter is pro-segregation. She absolutely cannot abide by different foods co-mingling on a plate, heaven forbid touching. It's gotten to the point that if we have more than one thing for dinner--in courses (because my timing is usually off and veggies take longer than I ever remember)--she wants a new plate. Now, I can't imagine where this got started. I think it's developmental. I definitely remember not liking my food to touch or putting more than one type of food on a utensil at the same time (the exception being gravy for that purpose)--and I must have been old enough to remember. I definitely remember my father saying, "it all goes to the same place." Not the point, as I recall. So, I'm not annoyed by this new habit just curious.

My dear son couldn't care less. In fact, he seems to go out of his way to mix foods--dipping anything in whatever sauce or condiment is on his plate. This morning for snack (we're testing dairy), he dipped string cheese in vanilla yogurt. This afternoon, after hot dogs, it was carrots and grapes in the leftover ketchup.

Good thing DD doesn't really watch him eat. She'd have an apoplectic fit.

And truthfully, I'm not sure I'd blame her at all.

At least she didn't see him dip the animal cookies in ketchup!

The Body Electric

(I think the title of this post dates me. Who out there is singing Irene Cara now? And, yes, I know, it's really Whitman.)

I had a revelation about my body today. Several, actually. It was my first physical therapy appointment. Ever. Since the babes, I've had abdominal and back aches, no doubt due to the various surgeries (2 hernia repairs, c-section with ovarectomy) and, well, carrying and carying for babes. It's been worse since Memorial Day, when I threw out my back while, get this, sitting down.

And today I found out why.

I had thought it was a weight problem. And of course it is, but I've lost more than 50 lbs (if you count from the moment before the babes were born), more like 35 of non-baby weight and I've felt worse than I did at my highest (even my highest pregnant) weight.

Turns out that losing some weight complicated all the muscles issues I'm having. In fact, losing the weight meant losing some of the support that was keeping my muscles from hurting. I have a diastasis, which means my abdominal wall is split down the middle at the linea alba. Mine is three fingers in width! Wow. This of course can cause more hernias. But it also adds to the weakness of all the other abdominal muscles. And my back.

But it also turns out that I am what you call hyper-flexible. Which means I can, with no warm up stretches or anything, lay my hands flat on the floor from a standing position, and other various loose muscle tricks. This is great for gymnasts and such, but not good when your muscles are weak and you have other issues. So, I'm a loose rubber band, with no real muscles to hold everything together.

Also my hips are not aligned properly. One is higher than the other, and not just in the way everyone is uneven. So, all that waddling that I've always done (so much for corrective shoes and walking around the backyard "heel-toe") that people think is a sore foot or a limp, is just the uneveness of it all. Which in turn leads to back trouble.

All in all, I need help and my PT can help me. And it doesn't sound like it will take too long to see some results. Though, I must say, even doing the two pretty minor exercises she gave me today has made me stiff and sore.

But I'm thrilled. It's like realizing I was a lesbian way back when and then watching all the disjointed pieces of my earlier life fall into place. Suddenly, body issues that go back decades suddenly make sense, have an explanation. And, in many ways, it is not my fault. Which is a huge relief. I don't waddle because I'm lazy but because I'm crooked. Fine. Great, even! No wonder I suck at P.E. No wonder I had so much ligament pain on my left side during my pregnancy. And how cool is it to be hyperflexible?! When I get this whole thing straightened out, I'm going to do more yoga!

And in the end, it's wonderful just knowing why.

"I sing the body electric. I celebrate the me yet to come."

Halloween, Part 1

We've already had two Halloween parties--DP's office bash and our annual church potluck. The kiddos are really getting into trick or treating this year. DD especially understands the concept. She particularly understands that she has two hands so don't just give her one piece of candy. She also knows that she is not limited by the number of pieces she can hold in her two hands--this is why she has a bag--so don't try to give her just two pieces. Nope, she'll stand there saying "candy" until satisfied that's she's been treated.

Now mind you, we practiced. The kiddo says "trick or treat," and then the adult gives them something (we practiced with cat toys, socks, Fisher Price animals, whatever was on the floor nearby). Then they say "thank you." DD never got this part; she would say "trick or treat" again. Go figure.

They can't have most of the candy being distributed. It either has questionable ingredients or is a choking hazard. But that doesn't seem to matter. They don't actually care if they eat them. DS would choose the "brown" ones, even though he's never had chocolate; apparently, brown wrappers just caught his fancy. As I mentioned, DD is just interested in quantity. The exception to the rule is lollipops. Both are crazy about lollipops. Any Dum-dum will do. DS tried a Tootsie pop but he kept biting off pieces and handing them to me. DD just likes to hold the things and wave them like scepters; I'm not sure she actually tastes them.

The other questionable aspect of Halloween is the costume. Now, when they were just three months old or so, we dressed them in romper costumes--a pumpkin for DS and a black cat for DD, straight off Target's shelves--and we were good to go (though we didn't actually trick or treat, that being way past our bedtime). The second year, I had the crazy idea that they should be gnomes. With hats. Somehow I missed the cardinal rule that kids don't like to wear things on their heads (unless singing a Laurie Berkner song, A Pig on Her Head, and then it's great fun). And the key to the gnome costumes were the green and red felt-covered birthday hats. Otherwise, the little cream shirts with brown belts didn't make much sense. Why a gnome? We'd spent the summer enjoying our garden gnome and our book about gnomes. And the kids were short and cute and a pair, so why not a pair of garden gnomes? Oh, well. We didn't even get a good picture. But I still have those hats here somewhere.

About a month ago, they decided that they wanted to be jaguars. As in Mama and Baby Jaguar from, you guessed it, Diego. I waited until about a week ago to start the costumes in case they changed their minds, but they didn't. DS was going to be Mama Jaguar. DD was Baby. I don't know how they decided--and it seems backwards to me--but it is set in stone. And I was supposed to be Rescue Pack. A tan terrycloth towel, some felt spots, and a headband with ears and yarn made the costume. Easy, peasy, stinky. The glue gives off this toxic smell.

Which doesn't really matter. Because they don't wear the costumes long enough. And the only time they have, they did it without the ears and everyone thought they were chocolate chip cookies.

Does that make me the Cookie Monster?

Chicago Highlights

Today, DD played a game. She lined up her baby stroller, complete with baby, in front of an empty cardboard box, which she then crawled inside. She placed her backpack full of fake food behind her and proceeded to read her Dora books. When DP asked what she was doing, she was flying. Yep, flying to Chicago.

Three weeks out and both kiddos still talk about the trip almost daily. Sometimes, they talk about the flight and the big airplane they rode on; sometimes we remember our friend "Mike-yine" and her cats and Miss Karen's drums. We read our Good Night, Chicago book a lot and talk about seeing the train in the garden. Then there are the dinosaurs at the Field and the lions outside the Art Institute. And the Bean.

And these are just the things they talk about. But there were also several great meals--lots of Chicago hot dogs and Middle Eastern food (DD inhaled her first kebab). DP and I managed some Italian beef sandwiches (wet and sweet for me; wet and hot for her. It's a Chicago thing) when the kids fell asleep in the car (that's where all the naps happened.) And one mediocre but memorable meal at the Rainforest Cafe with another good friend and lots of animatronic animals.

The Field had a marvelous new playlab, with arts and crafts and costumes, drums and corn harvesting activity which we enjoyed with our friend "Miss Diane." They also loved the stuffed animals and dinosaurs. The Botanical Gardens, up a very familiar drive through Evanston towards Glencoe, had a G-, or garden, scale train with miniature landmarks, including several Frank Lloyd Wright buildings, made out of twigs. DS especially loved the Thomas train, while DD was fascinated by the train with pigs that passed by the schoolyard. The Art Institute was probably the most disappointing, if mainly because it was the most anticipated by me--the marvelous Kraft Education Center and family exhibition space downstairs has been mostly reclaimed for storage because so many of the treasures of the museum are down while the new modern wing is being built. So, there was nowhere for the kids to play, really, being too short to see the Thorne Room miniatures well, while I viewed my favorite galleries. Which worked out fine because so much of the art I liked was off view anyway. Including all the armor and most of the pre-19th century works.

But, I did walk my children through their first real art museum, which was a highlight. DD and I examined Caillebotte's Paris Street, Rainy Day and talked about umbrellas. DS liked Monet's train painting and Renoir's image of a lady at a piano. Neither really liked Shukongo-Jin, the Japanese guardian figure (too scary) but did like the T'ang funerary ceramics, especially the lady on the horse. It was one of the hardest tours I've ever given! The first of many, I hope.

In addition to the first art museum and first kebab, there was our first real train ride, on the "el." We did the Loop, which both fascinated and frightened the kiddos. DS's mouth was agape the whole time. And DD insisted she sit in the seat, too unnerved by the swaying to stand up and look out the window. Until she did get up and then stood holding onto the pole just like any other pro. DP and I had to laugh, who would've thought that we would ever take the el for fun? Or with our own kids? Certainly not something we thought about during all those commutes.

We also took them to our old stomping grounds, which have been quite gentrified since we moved. But the good ol' lesbian/feminist bookstore Women and Children First is still there, though it now carries--gasp--male authors. The kiddos banged on the little piano and pulled numerous chapter books off the shelves while DP roamed the lesbian fiction and women's history sections and I searched for LGBT-friendly children's books. We came away with several, including the classic Heather Has Two Mommies.

Of course, the purpose of our trip was to visit our friends, and so the best parts were the conversations we all had, with the kiddos providing lighthearted distractions from the realities of breast cancer. Even if they don't know why we went, I think they will long remember our trip and our friends.

Good night, Chicago.

Cinco de October

It's a few days late, but I went to a wonderful, much-needed moms' night out (MNO) on Friday. The theme was Mexican, a belated Cinco de Mayo. There was wonderful dip--the cream cheese/bean/cheese/salsa mixture that I've only encountered in Connecticut (at every party I've hosted someone has brought it. Now, I thought I knew all of the Tex-Mex appetizers, having grown up in TX, but this cream cheese one is new to me. BTW, if you want a great article on Tex Mex, and how it is "native foreign food" and not real Mexican--duh--check out the recent NYTimes). Then we moved onto dinner, which featured this delicious chili including chipotle chilies in adobo sauce--this gave it this smokiness that I liked. Oddly, I recently came across a recipe featuring said ingredient and had never heard of it before. DP will like it, I'm sure. Our hostess--for hers was the chili (served with rice and FRITOS!)--then served vegetable burritos, made especially tasty by a tomato puree/cream sauce. We finished off the meal with the "Mexican" dessert coffee I brought. While I had to prep and cook some of it there (a big no-no for guests, I know), I think it turned out well. There were also tasty peanut butter-chocolate squares and brownies with ice cream. So, sure, not completely authentic, but delicioso all the same. And the company was good.

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Conn-Mex Party Dip

It is so easy- Spread the medium size tub of cream cheese on the bottom of a pie plate (we like Temptees brand) then spread a layer of either mild salsa OR a can of Hormel chili with beans (which ever suits your fancy) Finally sprinkle the top with Mexican shredded four cheese and bake 350 degrees until bubbly (about 25-30 min.). Serves with tortilla chips.

Mexican Dessert Coffee

1/4 cup ground dark roast coffee (regular or decaf)
2 teaspoons cinnamon
6 cup water
1 cup milk
1/3 cup chocolate syrup (I used Hershey's Dark)
2 tablespoon light brown sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
whipped cream optional

Place coffee and cinnamon in filter basket of coffeemaker. Add water and brew as directed.In saucepan, blend milk, chocolate syrup, and sugar. Stir over low heat until sugar dissolves.Combine milk mixture and brewed coffee; stir in vanilla. Garnish with whipped cream and cinnamon. Serve.

(By the way, my mom friends laughed when they saw "serve" written at the bottom of my notes. Sure. Apparently, Judith Jones thinks "set aside" is the silliest recipe instruction. I think "serve" might be.).

What's the Magic Word?

Jessica Seinfeld would be proud. In our house, the magic word is "zucchini."

I'm not exactly sure how it all started, really. We were building a castle with couch cushions on a summer day so hot that we were taking refuge in the air conditioning. I put cushion gates up and then kept asking the kids, who were stocking said castle with necessities--food and musical instruments--what the magic password was. And at some point, "zucchini" was suggested. Let it be known that DD suggested it. DS wanted "avocado." I teased them for a bit with "broccoli" but "zucchini" won out. And they thought that was hilarious. So they kept running up to the gate, beaming excitedly, and yelling out, "ZUC-CHI-NI!"

Now, it turns out, that "zucchini" is our magic word for everything. If you are trying to get them to say please by asking "what's the magic word?", you aren't going to get what you expect. If we're posing for a picture, it's not "cheese" on everyone's lips. And if you need a gate opened or a chinny-chin-chin house protected from the huffy-puffy big bad wolf, your answer is a vegetable.

And we've noticed that consumption of said vegetable has actually increased. This summer I made Summer Squash Soup and they both determinedly ate the green ones before the yellow ones. Same thing earlier this week when we were eating steamed vegetables at Longhorn Steakhouse with my folks. I think we might actually have to see about planting some next spring.

But what brings me to this today is naptime. As I've mentioned, we aren't napping very well now that we sleep in toddler beds. For the last few weeks, with Chicago and my parents visiting, we've done most of our napping in the car. But today was back to "normal." I knew it wasn't going well when they started discussing books, which meant they were no doubt both out of their beds perusing the bookshelves (which would normally make a parent proud, but not during naptime). They ended up stuffing all the thin books underneath the door, which they can no longer open since DP installed those babyproof handles this weekend (It's almost people-proof. All my art group guests today had trouble opening the door to the downstairs bathroom!).

And then I heard it, right after pleas for mommy to come open the door could be heard over the rattle of the new plastic handle cover. DD sang out the password, "Zucchini," hoping the door would magically open.

DS chimed in, "ZUCCHINI!"

And what do you know? It's magic.

Bubbles of Summer

Just as the so-called "boys of summer" are only just now starting the World Series, so I am only now able to pass along the recipe for bubbles that made summer joyful.

Our second birthday party this summer was bubble themed, inspired by our favorite bubble playspace at Stepping Stones Museum in Norwalk. I had baby pools filled with (admittedly store-bought) bubbles and staffed with bubble wands of all shapes and sizes. There was also a bubble machine blowing magic across the party constantly. I had hoped to have a hula hoop to dip in bubble solution and then pull up over guests standing on a stool in the middle but I never worked out all the mechanics. The hula hoop sits in the garage waiting for another use.

Though it was hot for the party, only one kid took a swim in the bubbles. And boy, did he have fun!

So, even though fall is supposed to be upon us, here's a recipe for bubbles to save for some sunny day next year.

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Bubble Solution

1/2 cup dishwashing solution
1-2 tablespoons glycerin (available at pharmacies) or corn syrup (but this attracts bugs)
6 cups water

Mix together, age overnight, and have fun!

Think Pink

It's Breast Cancer Awareness month--have you done your self-exam? Do you need to schedule your annual mammogram? Mine is in 2 weeks, the beginning of November, which means I won't get any of the pink goodies I know they pass out at this time of year.

That's okay though, I have a pink bracelet which I wear for our friend whom we visited in Chicago. She has breast cancer, and now bone cancer too.

So do your BSE and, if necessary, get that mammogram and remind someone you love to do the same.

I'm Always Chasing . . . Ice Cream

One of my parents' favorite things to eat here in Connecticut is Rich Farm's ice cream. Served from a shack in an idyllic pastoral setting, complete with corn rows and cow smell, this ice cream is frozen heaven. I don't even want to know the butterfat content; it's so rich and creamy.

The babes were asleep on the ride home from the Bronx Zoo on Saturday and we decided to make the swazu for ice cream. We stopped by the house to pick up the Rice Dream vanilla "ice cream" that I had purchased just for this purpose and headed off for our own grown-up treat with the kids still miraculously asleep.

The sky was darkening and we hoped that our ice cream run wouldn't be rained out. Though we would certainly have braved a torrential downpour for caramel apple, sweet cream, toasted almond, pumpkin and the like, we didn't know if they closed the outdoor set up if it rained.

And there before us, in the quirky dark/bright dichotomy of a rainstorm in the afternoon, with the fall trees glowing in the contrast, a rainbow appeared. And not just any rainbow, but a full double-bowed arch. End to end, all the colors, twice. I've only seen one other pair of rainbows like it, on a similar stormy afternoon during a drive to a childhood friend's house. It was beautiful.

DS awoke about that time and marveled with us at the colors in the sky as we sang the rainbow songs we could think of. Unfortunately, DD missed it completely, so asleep was she.

But she awoke in time for the ice cream, enjoying two whole bowls to her brother's three, while the four adults put away 7 1/2 scoops between us.

And we all felt the rainbow was a sign that this ice cream was divine.

A Mouse in the Restaurant

We do things in threes in our household. Mainly because Dora does. If you've ever watched Dora the Explorer, you'll see that her itineraries always come in threes-check the Map--you know, the place where you go when you need to ask for help. The kiddos seemed to remember the trip trios from her show so we started organizing our days tripartite-ly.

Today was "Meeting. Library. Restaurant." Easy. Though, DD kept switching the last two, mainly because she is always hungry. So we went to my Weight Watchers meeting weigh-in, which wasn't bad considering 4 days in Chicago, and then headed to meet friends at our storytime program. Which, coincidentally, had the theme of three today--three bears, three pigs, three kittens.

Afterwards, we went for lunch. And while we were there, DS became obsessed with a clock, complete with pendulum, on the nearby wall.

"Hickory Dickory Clock," he kept saying. "Hickory Dickory Clock."

And then he started asking about when it was going to chime.

"Mouse? Mouse?" Of course, where was the mouse. Now, all this seemed fine and dandy to me but the people at the next table only caught the last bit and looked concerned. So I explained to DS rather loudly that the clock wasn't quite about to chime so there was no mouse but we could sing the song.

Which one of the passing workers heard and thought was cute. So, then DS asked her where the mouse was and she replied, without missing a beat, "it's his day off."

She who Laughs, Lasts

Our trip to Chicago last week started so well in the beginning. The idea of flying excited the kiddos, who were cooperative and good-natured for the drive to the airport, the security check (they think it's funny to take off their shoes), the wait for boarding, and even the take off. Even when the flight attendant got on the microphone with tears in her eyes and a choke in her voice and the pilot announced that we were making an unscheduled landing in Albany because of a problem with an engine (read: the engine was smoking with burning oil and they had to turn it off), even when fire trucks dotted the runway and the airport was in emergency mode, the kids were fine. They like the lollipops we give them for their ears at takeoff; they like all the one on one time with a mom; they like the little houses and little cars and huge clouds. And so, when we made that emergency landing, DD yelled out "We're in Chicago!", perfectly thrilled with our little adventure. We chuckled to ourselves in irony, noticing that no one else laughed.

It was no laughing matter. We spent almost the whole day in Albany, a perfectly nice small airport. We ate all of their allergy-friendly food in the first hours and eventually gave up and started feeding the kids happy meals. We bought several sets of cars and airplanes to play in the hallway. We chatted with other passengers, particularly the Notre Dame fans who were quickly drinking themselves into merriment. We even bought souvenirs to remind us of the experience. And we waited through the rumors--they would drive us all in a bus to NYC to fly us out that night! They would drive us all in a bus back to Hartford and we could fly out in a few days! They would bring in another plane and take us all to Chicago! We decided we wouldn't go to NYC and would only head back to Hartford in a rental car after spending the night in Albany to break up the travel. DP, who had noticed the smoke and the engine shut off, thought we were crazy to get on another plane. I just wanted to get to Chicago to see our friends. And through it all, the kids barely noticed that Albany wasn't Chicago and that we weren't exactly where we wanted to be.

In fact, when they finally boarded us on a flight to Chicago late that afternoon, DD thought we had finished our outing for the day and were going home.

And then she cried on the plane all the way to Chicago.

And so did her brother.

I say Tomato . . .

So much has happened in the space of silence on my blog this last week. I'm not sure I'll ever catch up. We went to Chicago over the weekend to see some dear friends and had a wonderful time. I'll get back to all the yummy food and great times we had soon. And now my folks are in town for an extended visit so there will be lots to write about that too.

But today was just one more clear example that my son has genes that don't originate with me: he eats raw cherry tomatoes. He inhales them. He probably had 40 for lunch.

He even dips them in ketchup!

Everything's Better with Apple Butter on It

Have I mentioned that my kiddos are addicted to bread and jam? Sometimes it is very Dickensian here, "Mummy, please more hot bread. With butter." Not real butter, but natural apple butter. It's very specific--they like the bread--it's brown rice bread from the freezer section of the natural food store--hot from the microwave (it is better that way) with the crusts cut off. DD likes her bread with the apple butter on it, and apricot jam on the side. DS likes his bread with both the apricot jam (or jelly, though officially it's Polaner all-fruit preserves) and the apple butter on the side. Though, this changes morning to morning.

Okay, I know--apple butter AND apricot jam? Well, it started that one liked one, and the other liked the other. Then there was some cross-pollination and now they both like a little of both. I am careful that the spread to bread ratio favors the bread.

And sometimes the bread is in squares, and sometimes I am asked to cut them into "sticks." Recently, DD has been biting hers into train shapes.

Anyway, the other day, once all the bread, butter, and jam was distributed, I cautioned them that the bread was still hot. I think DD thought the bread had a boo-boo. Using a phrase we use when someone gets a boo-boo, DD said"Butter will make it all better" and smeared some apple butter on it.

And then he ate the whole thing in 3 bites

You are What You Eat, Part Two

We went to the local Mexican food place today after church, encouraging the kids with stories about how Dora and Diego ate fajitas and tortillas. We encouraged DD and DS to say "hola" and "gracias" to the servers, just like their favorite explorer and animal rescuer respectively. And when the food came we said it was "caliente." Which was the opposite--a word that was the focus of a recent storytime--of "frio."

And what did DD say? "I'm a frito."

Maybe she did eat some frito chili pie the other night . . .

Frito Chili Pie

It's late here and, while I have been rehearsing in my head my post on "white trash food" and this title would seem to be heralding such a post, it's just going to be a short ode to Frito Chili Pie.

Now, I'm not going to engage in the constant, endless debate on what constitutes chili. I'll say, to borrow a phrase, that I know what I like. And most Texans would say what I like ain't chili. I like ground meat, not stew meat. I like it with tomatoes. I like, gasp, beans in my chili. I don't care for veggies in it, or mole. I will eat it over lots of things--crunched up saltine crackers with shredded cheddar cheese is a family tradition; over rice with lettuce, tomatoes, and cheese was called jambalaya for 12 years of public school. I have never had it over spaghetti like in Cincinnati but I'm game to try it. But the way I like best is over Fritos.

It amazes me that Frito Chili pie hasn't caught on everywhere--my mommy friends up here had never heard of it when I served it at a playgroup and kept needing instructions on what to do with the Fritos. And I didn't even serve it the traditional way, which is actually a ladleful of chili poured over the opened small pouch of Fritos. We had it at school, football games, fairgrounds, you name it. But those mommies loved it and I even got talked into hosting a second Frito Chili Pie Playgroup.

It's the ultimate social food for me, a fun food, a fall and winter food. So even though it's been summer up here in the Northeast, I made a batch of chili this week. This is cheater's chili--it only takes a bit to throw together and relies on, please don't tell a soul, a packaged mix and canned beans. But as I've confessed, I'm no Wick Fowler purist. I think I like the kind of chili we used to get at school. Over Fritos. And this is the closest I can get to it.

I will say, it was a disappointment to me that DD and DS did not see the beauty of the dish, especially because they love Fritos (can I tell you how excited I was when I found an easy-to- locate snack food they can eat?) and ground turkey. They wouldn't even try it, DD because of the beans, DS because of DD.

I'm hoping they'll come around.

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My Playgroup Frito Chili Pie

1 lb. ground beef or turkey
1 medium onion, chopped
1 can Ranch style beans (there will be an homage to these later. I literally "import" them from Houston everytime my folks come up. It's the one thing I just cannot find up here, now that the stores have Pace Picante sauce and Rotel tomatoes. If only Blue Bell ice cream travelled as well.)
1 can light kidney beans
1 can black beans
1 packet McCormick chili mix
14 oz can diced tomatoes
Fritos
shredded cheddar cheese

Brown the ground meat, draining fat. Brown onions. Add all the beans plus the packet of chili mix and tomatoes to meat and onions. Add water if necessary (I like my chili soupy, so the Fritos can absorb some). Simmer. Serve with lots of Fritos and cheese.

You are What You Eat

The babes have a new food in their repetoire--fried rice. We first had it last Saturday when DP was gone all day sailing and I wanted something different for dinner. They can have the little bit of egg in it--they are obsessed with scrambled eggs and ask for them at every meal--and we just ask for no soy sauce. And, as with the mixed veggie bags, they can pick among the rice, chicken, peas, carrots, and onions for their favorite bits.

So today, we announced that we were going to have Chinese food. And DD starts dancing around the kitchen, "Chinese food! Chinese food!" and wanting to instill in her some connection to it, perhaps some pride (though DP doesn't think much of American fried rice), I said, "yes, and you are Chinese."

And she said, "I am Chinese food."

Size Does Matter

My kids ate two whole bags of steamed vegetables today! We used to buy fresh vegetables but the kids would go on and off, say, a broccoli kick and we wouldn't eat it all and it would go bad. We didn't want to try canned veggies too much because of the high sodium, even though there are several organic varieties at our stores (we shop at two--the grocery superstore and the small health food store; everyone says to go to Trader Joe's but I'm not adding a 3rd store and they don't carry enough allergy friendly stuff to drop either other store off my list). So a friend turned me on to frozen bags of vegetables that steam in your microwave. And they even come without sauce.

So how do I get the kids to eat two big bags of veggies in one day? I choose the mixed bags--broccoli, snow peas, and carrots; broccoli and cauliflower; corn, carrots, and asparagus--and put the plate between them. They then pick out what they want--which is never the same thing--and work their way through the whole plate. Today, they even left behind their hot dogs to eat the corn and carrots (I know, I know, hot dogs are terrible. But at least they were nitrate/nitrite free turkey dogs). It's actually quite fun. I get in the game, too, setting the right vegetable-eating example--oftentimes, DD likes to choose which ones I get. I got all the small carrots. See, "big" is very important when it comes to food. DS always wants a "big one," meaning a big portion of whatever. He likes the longest asparagus, the widest carrot slices, the most cereal. She does too. Which is why I got the small carrots.

But when it comes to vegetables, bigger--and more--is better.

As Simple as 1, 2, 3 . . . 2000

I read today at Prevention Magazine that Americans need only do two things to significanly affect their weight issues:

** cut 100 calories a day
**walk an additional 2000 steps a day

I'm going to print out the handy-dandy chart (I love handouts!) and will keep an eye on my pedometer. The 100 calories I think I can manage--isn't that like 2 WW points? But 2000 more steps? With DD and DS holding onto my skirt, that would take all day!

New Bread Variation

This might be might be my favorite Amish Friendship Bread yet: chocolate pudding, 1 teaspoon cinnamon, 1/2 a bag of Nestle chocolate chunks. It's not too sweet, good texture, perfect for late-night snacking and also for breakfast.

Definitely not WW, though.

But I've done okay with that this week otherwise so I'm not worrying. I lost 3 lbs this week.

I actually had wanted to make four loaves, two chocolate and two almond. I even bought two new bread tins so I could bake all four at once (Did you know two disposable bread tins are only $1 cheaper than a reusable non-stick one? So now I have four reusable bread tins. Doing my part for the environment.) But I couldn't find the white chocolate pudding I bought anywhere. DP looked. I looked. She looked again. I fumed around the kitchen bemoaning "mommy brain." I'd blame it on the kids. Or Yehudi (pronounced ya-hoot-ee). Not sure about the spelling, but he's the little invisible critter that was always blamed for things when I was growing up. I think it comes from the German side of my mom's family. It sounds Yiddish to me, though there is not Jewish family that I know of. Who knows. Anyway, maybe Yehudi took the pudding. Because I can't find it anywhere.

Oh, well. For the record, that variation calls for white chocolate pudding, almond extract (I forget how much), and slivered almonds on top. Yum, yum.

Yehudi can keep the 3 lbs but I want my pudding back!

Am I Speaking Too Soon?

I think we might have eggs!

Yep, a new ingredient. A major food.

We started the egg test last Sunday, first just consuming baked goods with eggs. But beginning Thursday, we've been having scrambled eggs for breakfast.

And NO problems.

Yet.

Wow. This would be huge.

As would be the nap they are BOTH currently taking now, for the first time in more than 4 weeks since they climbed Mt. Everest, I mean Crib.

Watch out for falling poop because the pigs are flying!

I Struck Out

Setting: our kitchen table, around 5:30
Characters: two children, overtired and hungry; one mom, the same

M: We have a special rice dinner for tonight. Yum. With turkey meatballs.
DD: NOOOoooooooo! Want something else!
M: (dishing it onto the plate) Here it is--you like meatballs and rice.
DS (stuffs onion and rice in his mouth) Onions!
DD: Not on plate. Want something else! Something else!
M: (enthusiastically eating from her bowl) This is what we're having for dinner
DS: More onions. Please. More onions!
DD: NOOOooooooo!
M: You can have cereal.
DD: Something else. No cereal.
M: (giving in) Or you can have oatmeal.
DD and DS: (in unison) OATMEAL!

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Fiesta Rice
The adults in the house liked it.

2 lbs spicy Italian sausage, casings removed (we used 1 lb ground turkey and 1 lb sweet Italian turkey sausage)
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 teaspoons ground cumin (used taco seasoning)
4 onions, chopped
4 green bell peppers, chopped (skipped this part)
3 jalapeno peppers, seeded and minced (skipped)
4 cups beef broth
2 packages (about 6 oz each) long grain and wild rice mix (used Zatarains, which is seasoned)

Brown sausage in large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat, stirring to break up. Add garlic and cumin; cook 30 seconds. Add onions, bell peppers, and jalapenos. Cook and stir about 10 minutes or until onions are tender. Place mixture in slow cooker.

Stir in beef broth and rice.

Cover; cook on LOW 4-6 hours or on HIGH 2-3 hours.

The Slow Cooker Bible

Comfort in a Casserole

I have been musing on babies recently. I have 9--count them, 9!--friends who are pregnant right now, most with second children. I had my second child a minute after having my first and we're not planning on anymore so I'm kinda wistful, a little bit jealous, and a lotta bits relieved at the arrival of so many other people's new babes. My kids, if they could understand, would be relieved too--DD does not like it when I get near a baby, even if she is very curious about babies, notices them everywhere, and plays with her own dolls more. I can't even fathom bringing a little one home now--I tried it with a friend's new baby a few weeks ago and couldn't juggle holding the baby with the toddler crawling up us both. Just like people always tell me they can't imagine having twins! And in both situations you just cope and there are good things and hard things but it becomes normal for you and so you don't notice so much. But the new baby smell, the new clothes, a new little character to learn about . . . even with two kids at home, I won't have that again except if DD lets me borrow somebody for a bit. Mind you, I don't really want another baby but since I don't really remember DD and DS as babies I would love to revisit the experience. You see, they are two now. And we've been to lots of second birthday parties so I'm constantly reminded that all the kids are growing. And I look back and it's a daze, which is part of the reason I journal and am keeping this blog. If I don't remember babyhood, will I remember this period? Our dancing around the living room to Irish music yesterday? How DS says "that be fun" when he wants to do something? How DD asks to be "uppy up?" How DD loves to jump? How DS loves to make music? But I'm not convinced I'd remember another baby's babyhood--or the twins' toddlerhood if there were a baby in the house--even if I could do it all over again a dozen times. But at least then I could be on TLC, right? Now, there's a goal.

So, today I made a casserole for one of the aforementioned friends who is on restricted activity hoping to make it to her scheduled c-section next week. And there I was, in the grocery store on an unscheduled visit, trying to remember a recipe suitable to take. While DD had a breakdown because she isn't napping. And I couldn't think of a thing (no wonder, I was carrying her under an arm screaming and sobbing in a football hold searching the aisle for inspirations. It's a wonder DCFS wasn't called. Though, DS was happily driving the little car in front of the car. He didn't even want to leave when we got out to the car. One out of two isn't bad, right?). And there were no magazines touting church suppers or casseroles or the like. So what did I do? I started reading labels--cream of mushroom soup, crackers, bread stuffing--trying to remember some of the meals I got. I am in charge of organizing the meals and in an odd way, for me, it's how I can take part in this communal pregnancy we're having. Otherwise, despite having been pregnant and being able to talk about it and labor, I feel pretty left out of everything right now. This is how I can help out and feel useful and stay in touch with this.

And so I came up with this--"Swiss" Chicken with Stuffing--which I delivered with bagged salad and some iced lemon cookies. I hope it was good. It isn't how we cook normally--it's American comfort food par excellence, and thus not healthy. It was comforting to me, anyway.

One down, eight to go.

**Whoops, just recounted--the number is 10!

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4 cups Pepperidge Farm stuffing
1 1/4 cups water, boiling
4 tablespoons olive oil
4-6 chicken breasts
paprika
4-6 slices Swiss cheese
1 can cream of mushroom soup
1/3 cup milk

Preheat oven to 375F.

Spray Pam on 9 x 13 baking dish.

Boil water and mix it with olive oil. Pour this mixture over stuffing.

Place chicken breasts over stuffing mixture. Sprinkle with paprika. Top with slices of Swiss cheese.

Combine milk and mushroom soup. Pour over casserole.

Bake covered for 45 minutes or until cooked through; uncover and bake for 5-10 more minutes until surface bubbles and browns.

adapted from Pepperidge Farms stuffing bag

No Debate on Cupcakes Here

We're making cupcakes today because we have a birthday party tomorrow.

Perfect timing, as a clever article on the "cupcake debate" appeared in the NYTimes yesterday. Good ol' Texas defending the rights of small baked goods with an amendment! Now only if gays and lesbians could receive the same treatment there.

Avoiding a discussion of the so-called obesity epidemic for now, I myself am partial to the cupcake. Paralleling the trend mentioned in the article, I went for years--mainly 5th grade to graduate school--without ever considering the cupcake. But while living in NYC, I did visit the various cupcake bakeries--Cupcake Cafe makes beautiful floral creations in a tiny space near (or in?) Hell's Kitchen; Butterfly Bakery in Midtown has my favorite Lady Baltimore cupcakes. I haven't actually been to Magnolia, but I've drooled over the cookbook. And I have personally made several batches of cupcakes recently, often enlivening cake mix with my own ingredients.

So, in my quest to find the perfect birthday treat for my kids to take along when we go to parties, we made cupcakes today. Using a Gluten-Free Pantry old-fashioned cake and cookie mix, we whipped up a vanilla cake. I used real eggs and vegetable shortening so the texture of the cake came out pretty well.

And then we made frosting. Come to think of it, DD and DS have little concept of frosting. The only time they've been near something was the fondant on their 2nd birthday cake, which was not really a frosting. They loved watching my Kitchen Aid fluff the ingredients. Even more they liked adding colors--DD chose green and DS liked yellow. It was a trial to keep them from eating it all beforehand (and, so, shamefacedly I admit I gave them each a tiny bowl of frosting to sample)--they loved the super sweet stuff.

But they didn't want it on their cupcakes! When the time came (after shocking said cakes in the freezer to cool), I iced one green. But DD screeched and wouldn't have it near her so I handed it to DS, who gamely crumbled the cupcake but ate everything but the cake touching the frosting. DD did enjoy her plain cupcake, calling it a muffin. And then she asked for raisins to put in it!

The plain, unfrosted cupcakes are ready for tomorrow's party with a few in the freezer for the next event. And, well, DP and I polished off one each, but with strawberry jam and black currant jelly instead of green or yellow frosting, anglophiles that we are.

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Frosting Recipe

1 lb confectioner's sugar
1/3 cup shortening or margarine
1 tsp vanilla (optional)
rice milk as needed (used about 3 tablespoons)
food coloring (optional)

Mix sugar, shortening and vanilla together until blended. Add rice milk as needed to get the consistency right.

Score 4-0

I hit a Grand Slam!

Four foods, one week--all successful.

Our church festival was this weekend and I made treats for the bake sale. Wanting DD and DS to have something to choose, I made Pumpkin Raisin Bars with a 1-2-3 Gluten mix. Usually, I would have gotten the babes to help but we were short of time and I made them after bed. Then I snuck them to the bake sale table and we proceeded to shop. Our bars were at eye level and toddler reach so they each chose a baggie of Pumpkin Raisin Bars--and loved them!!!

It probably helps that I used real eggs in the mix, as we are now testing for eggs. No problem so far. And the pumpkin option is on the box--I added the raisins because they love them (well, DS does. DD has picked them out everytime, having changed her mind about raisins. She even once said "Pumpkin bar fixed now."). Like most GF baked goods, they were a little chewy (and like most bars, got a little soggy after 24 hours) but they had a better consistency than most (none of the usual graininess) and a great flavor.

At the end of the day, only one baggie had been sold--I wouldn't trust someone else either (even though I provided the box label and what I added to it)--so I purchased back the extra bags. And we had them for dinner. And breakfast. And probably lunch. :)

My team wins!

Kudos

We had a wonderful weekend--we went to Dinosaur State Park and had a marvelous time seeing the preserved footprints and wandering the maple swamp. And then we had lunch at On the Border. Now, as a Texan, I really like my Tex-Mex food and had been fairly particular. But living in the Northeast, you don't have so many options. And On the Border isn't usually my first choice. But now, when I'm with my kids, it will be.

We identified ourselves to the server as having allergies and immediately she mentioned the special allergy notebook. Within minutes, a manager came to our table with said notebook--a list, broken down by allergen, of all the meals that a person could have. We learned some interesting things--the corn chips are sometimes fried in the same oil as one of the desserts with peanuts and the grilled onions (you know how we love onions) are marinated in soy sauce for about an hour. With this in mind, we were able to choose food for DD and DS that we could be fairly confident would be fine. Coincidentally, except the onions, it was exactly what we would have ordered--chicken fajitas with corn tortillas. They brought us grilled un-marinated onions and extra quacamole, to make up for no cheese or sour cream.

In all the times we've ever been to a restaurant with the kiddos--we go about once a week and we always mention allergies to the server--this is the very first time there has been a special menu, or anything more than passing interest in our food issues. I was so impressed. And I will go back.

Yay for On the Border!

Why Food?

I was waxing philosophical last night as I knitted on a scarf for a friend in Chicago--why did I select food as the organizing principle of my blog? I do other things. I am a beginner knitter, crocher, quilter, and cross-stitcher. All of which I took up after I finished my Ph.D. in art history. I could've just told stories about the family without the food hook, like many other mommy blogs (which, of course, this still is).

So, why emphasize food? This would seem to be the root of my weight and body issues, the interest and dedication to food, so why spend my extra time reading, writing, and experimenting with food? In fact, the weight issues existed long before the more methodical interest in food. But it seems like jumping from the frying pan into the fire. Know thy "enemy?" Not exactly.

It's part nostalgia, part history, part sociology, part psychology, part politics. Like it or not, I spend a lot of time thinking about food--what groceries to buy, what recipes to try next, what the kids might like, where DP and I can go on date night when the babysitter is here. And so, I like to think, by expanding my interests in food beyond grocery lists and recipe files to include Slow Food and sustainable agriculture, Alice Waters and Alice B. Toklas, ancient Roman recipes and open hearth cooking techniques, I'm learning something about the world and cultures around me, in addition to myself and my origins.

But don't be surprised if I throw in a scarf pattern from time to time!

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One Skein Knitted Scarf

Size: appx. 6 x 60"

Materials: 6 oz worsted weight yarn; size 10 knitting needles

Directions: Cast on 22 loosely.

Row 1 Knit
Repeat row 1 for pattern, using entire skein.
Bind off and weve in ends.

Adapted from Lion Brand pattern

Going for a Grand Slam

I have been on target with food for the kiddos these last 24 hours--three meals have been great successes. Mainly, because I've stayed away from beans. They have all been new meals so I'm very excited to have added something to my repetoire.

First, dinner last night was Garlic Pork Roast (we use chops). This is basically pork chops with sweet potatoes (which oddly aren't mentioned in the title). And onions. I added lots of extra onions. DS liked it so much that he woke up this morning asking for pork chops and onions.

Secondly, for our playgroup picnic at the park, we made cake--Applesauce Raisin Cake. It was a Namaste bag mix (spice cake, I think) to which I added extra cinnamon. And we used the leftover applesauce from a few weeks ago (that freezes beautifully!) as topping, kind of a "right-side up" cake. DS still insisted it was "upside down," which is his all-time favorite (he's unfortunately off pineapple right now, hence the applesauce substitution). And then, as we were stirring the mix, DD suggested raisins. Wow--color me impressed. So I fetched the raisins, they threw in handfuls, and then they proceeded to dunk whole hands in the batter (not to worry--no real eggs, just No Egg replacer) fishing out the raisins to eat. Baking with toddlers is always entertaining. It took a little extra time to bake but was mightily successful.

Finally, dinner--Wild Chicken Rice Soup. I was iffy that they would like this and had yesterday's pork on deck but that was unncecessary. They loved it. Especially the celery and--you guessed it--onions. But they ate the chicken and even some of the wild rice. And DD kept picking out the carrots to eat first, her favorite.

So, I've got bases loaded, which is a nice change after so many rejected legumes. And since DP is staying late for a work function tonight--I kid you not, there's a visiting swami--I'm going to peruse some magazines for some other ideas. I have back issues of Living Without to go through and I think Eating Well this month had a vegan banana rice pudding. And of course, I have Food TV on . . . root for me, I want to bring this home.

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Garlic Pork Roast

1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 (2 pound) boneless pork roast salt and pepper to taste (we use pork chops)
4 sweet potatoes, quartered
1 onion, quartered
6 cloves garlic
1 (14.5 ounce) can chicken broth

Heat oil in large heavy skillet. Season meatwith salt and pepper, and brown in oil. In a slow cooker, layer sweet potatoes, onion andgarlic. Place browned roast on top of vegetables, andpour in chicken broth. Cover, and cook on low setting for 6 hours.

Allrecipes.com


Wild Rice Chicken Soup

4 quarts nonfat chicken broth
4 carrots, thinly sliced
4 stalks celery, chopped
1 cup chopped onion
2 lbs. chicken breast tenderloins, cut into 1/2” cubes
½ cup uncooked wild rice
2 teaspoons poultry seasoning (actually, I used 2 bay leaves and some seasoned salt instead)

Spray inside of slow cooker with cooking spray. Combine allingredients in slow cooker and mix well. Cover and cook on low heat for 6-7 hours.

Jyl Steinback, The Busy Mom’s Slow Cooker Cookbook

Bread Variations and Information

Our annual church festival is coming up soon and I'm making various versions of Amish Friendship Bread for the bake sale table. So far, we have regular, dried cranberry, lemon poppyseed, and strawberry. I'll also be baking some GF treats, if only to buy them for the kiddos a few minutes later.

I have learned a few things about the bread, either directly or from internet research:
*You can wait a day or two to bake it.
*Each bread recipe (making 2 loaves) uses about 2 cups of starter (perhaps a little less). Or, 1 cup per loaf.
*Liquid egg substitutes work.
*Don't use the starter if it turns pink.
*It will die if you don't feed it.

Regular: I used the standard recipe with chocolate pudding and a handful of raisins.

Dried Cranberry: add 1 cup of dried cranberries (I used orange-flavored craisins).

Lemon Poppyseed: use 2 teaspoons of lemon extract instead of 2 teaspoonsof cinnamon and 2 small packages of lemon pudding instead of 1 box of vanilla; also add 1 tablespoon of poppyseeds.

Strawberry: use 1 package of strawberry jello instead of vanilla pudding and 1 cup of frozen strawberries (defrosted); be sure to include cinnamon

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DP says my original, non-starter quick bread is better. Especially with cold cream cheese.

Strawberry Bread

The first quick bread I made for DP—I made it one weekend I visited and left her the loaves. Those frozen strawberries are messy but work really well.
Makes 2 loaves

3 cups all purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons cinnamon
2 cups sugar
4 eggs, well beaten
1 cup vegetable oil
1 cup chopped pecans
1 ½ pints strawberries, washed and stemmed (Note: 2-10 oz. packages frozen
strawberries, thawed, may be substituted for fresh.)

Preheat oven to 350°F. In a bowl, combine flour, soda, salt, cinnamon and sugar; mix well.
In a separate bowl, mix eggs and oil; add to dry ingredients. Stir in pecans. Fold in strawberries until moistened. Pour into 2 greased 9 x 5 x 3 in. loaf pans. Bake at 350°F for 50 to 60 minutes or until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Cool on wire rack.

Mom

Food Writing 101

That is probably too ambitious a title for this post as I am in no way an expert in the genre of food writing, an accomplished writer myself, nor even a prolific and well-rounded food writing reader.

But I know what I like.

I read the NYTimes food section weekly, for escapism and inspiration. The same with Saveur and Gourmet--these are recipes that I almost never cook but always clip and ingredients I often can't afford or even identify. I'm not what you would call a "foodie." First, I won't eat raw tomatoes. Salsa, ketchup, tomato sauce--fine. Slices of beefsteak, little round cherry--no way. Nor do I particularly like seafood. I like my mom's fried fish and shrimp straight from the Gulf, and cod or scrod or any other bland fish. But otherwise, no thank you. Especially sushi. And mind you, I've been taken for sushi in NYC with a Japanese native so I've seen the real thing. I'm assured I'm missing out; probably, but I'll live. And I can't eat spicy. I know, I'm from Texas, but I just can't stand the heat. There are other things I won't eat, but I will read about (or watch) almost anything--"Iron Chef" was long a favorite, and, while I would never have even tried most of the dishes, DP would have tasted most of them.

Another indication I'm not exactly a foodie: I love Taste of Home magazine. It's the ultimate in comfort food reading. My mom didn't even cook that way--I remember begging her to make hamburger helper when I was a kid--but she always had to cook from scratch! But somehow reading about a 3-can casserole and a Jello salad evokes nostalgia for my childhood. Maybe it resembles the food I ate at the school cafeteria (I wasn't a big sandwich lover and so I usually got a hot lunch).

Right now, I've got two editions of the Best of Food Writing in my car, for when the kiddos fall asleep. By my bed, I am reading A Thousand Years Over a Hot Stove by Laura Schenone. Downstairs in the living room are all my magazines, the above mentioned titles plus Cooking Light, Weight Watchers Magazine, and Everyday Food, which is the one I most consistently use (and which has the least amount of actual writing). On my bookshelf are my beloved copies of Laurie Colwin's writings, a history of cookbooks, Humble Pie, plus a variety of other food writing books. And, bookmarked on my compter is Slashfood.com, my favorite website after the NYTimes. I read it regularly, plus some of the blogs of its individual contributors.

But there is no way I can keep up. The sheer volume of food writing is astounding. Indeed, a fabulous article by Molly O'Neill in the Columbia Journalism Review (excerpted in the Best of Food Writing) recounts how the genre has developed and expanded, from early how-tos for social climbing housewives in the late 19th century to middle class virtual hedonism in the late 20th century. I like both, thus Taste of Home and Saveur, and, while I won't be able to contribute much to the genre in the way of exoticism or literature, I can share some good stories and some good food.

Choose Your Favorite Apple Aphorism

Okay, another apple post: we made apple pie with a Gluten-Free Pantry crust yesterday. Not exactly a success. 20 tablespoons of vegetable shortening (because we couldn't use any butter) made it a very greasy dough that we couldn't roll out. Unfortunately, the box didn't say "reserve some mix to flour your rolling pin" and I didn't have any other GF mix in the house. And I was out of wax paper. So we "pat-patted" it into my pie plate, getting it all over the floor and everybody.

They loved the apple-cinnamon mixture, though. And ate it even after we dumped the top crust on, finding cracks to pull the apples out of.

The pie itself came out okay, very crunchy. It probably would've been okay if we could've actually rolled it; ours looked more like a cobbler or biscuit topping. They both ate a big piece as soon as it cooled off (rapidly in the freezer), very proud of their pie, if not that enamored of the crust and just eating the apples. So, I'll probably try it again.

I just want to make them a glorious apple pie like the ones on the cover of all the magazines right now (I think Eating Well's is my favorite pic). And if you want to read a great homage to pie, try Humble Pie, which will make you yearn for a slice and reach for your rolling pin.

Oh, Soy!

Well, our soy test this week didn't go as well as hoped. After 7 days of soy milk for breakfast, DS had breakouts on one arm and the back of one knee. It could've been the bear-shaped graham crackers he inhaled before anyone could stop him at the playgroup (asked about them, he said "Good!"), but I kinda doubt it (so, if you're reading this, J, it's not your fault; well, it wasn't anyway, because I should've been watching him). But the reaction took 5 days to show up and was only present after we introduced soy milk. Last week, we were doing lechithin and soy as an ingredient in other things (like soybean oil) without any problems. So maybe it's just a sensitivity to soy in large quantities. Who knows. But for now, we're getting rid of the soy milk but allowing the emulsifier, which does expand the number of things we can have by quite a bit.

Now only eggs, dairy, wheat, nuts, and various fruits to go . . .

. . . that we know of.

With Apologies to MasterCard

Preparation time: 15 minutes
Cooking time: 8 hours
Eating time: Worthless

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It reminds me of something I read in a food writing anthology recently (more about my love of the genre later) about a woman on the prairie in the 19th century who regularly cooked for a horde of farm laborers. She was taken out of her house screaming, "And they ate it all in 15 minutes!"

I get it. But at least her eaters actually ate. Mine can turn up their noses at dinner in seconds.

There's never any telling what will fly and what won't, though I should have known that Hamburger (or for DS "hamgurmer") Lentil Soup wouldn't work for DD, who abhors legumes. But it had ground turkey which is a staple. She managed to pick every single little lentil off her spoon before eating the bite. Which means of course that eating time wasn't "worthless" at all. Not that I think she actually got a meal's worth of food.

Good thing I liked it.

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Hamburger Lentil Soup

1 lb. ground beef (we used turkey)
1/2 cup onion, chopped
2 cups lentils, washed and sorted
4 carrots, diced
3 ribs of celery, diced
4 cups tomato juice (we used 28 oz diced tomatoes)
1 tablespoon brown sugar

Saute ground meat and onion. Combine all ingredients in slow cooker. Cook for 4-6 hours on high or 8-10 hours on low.

Adapted from Fix it and Forget It Slow Cooker Recipes

A Tree Falls in Connecticut

We arrived home today to police tape and emergency vehicles on our street. And inches away from the car we almost never leave on the street (except today because we had company) was half a 40' tree. It was a beautiful day in the Nutmeg State but the tree was rotten and fell into the power lines, cutting off power to the block for hours and almost demolishing our car.

All while we enjoyed a local farm's fall array of pumpkins and squash. We didn't do any PYO this time, as we still have bushels of apples from our last farm foray. But the kids enjoyed wandering the pumpkins and drinking cider from little plastic apples. I picked up a great wicker pie plate holder that I can't wait to try out. I love my apple pie recipe, which comes from a dear college friend. I'm going to need to adapt it for the babes but think I found the right vegetable shortening for the pie crust mix from Gluten Free Pantry. I'll let you know how it turns out (I would've made it with the babes this afternoon but power didn't come back on until long after bedtime).

Until then, there's firewood in the front yard and apples ready for baking.

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Patricia’s Apple Pie
Now this is my signature apple pie, made for all holidays. And as Grandma always used to say, “Apple pie without cheese is like a hug without a squeeze!” DP didn’t believe until she tried it (now there's always a hunk of cheddar in the house during apple season).

¾ cup brown sugar
½ teaspoon nutmeg
6 sliced, peeled apples
¼ cup flour
½ teaspoon cinnamon
pie crust (I use store bought) and crumb topping

Peel and slice apples, soaking in water and lemon juice to prevent browning. Heat oven to 425°F. Mix sugar, flour, nutmeg, and cinnamon. Stir in apples. Cover with crumb topping. Cover edge of pie with aluminum foil, shiny side out. Bake 40-50 minutes, removing foil for last 10 minutes.

Crumb Topping

1 cup flour
½ cup firm margarine
½ cup packed, crumbly brown sugar

Mix with fork and sprinkle on top of pie.

A Lesson for Today

You know how you are supposed to throw flour on a grease fire?

Well, they never mention that the flour will also catch fire.

It does eventually burn out.

It's That Time Again

After a week of eating out with my mom, it's time to be more sensible and healthy (read: back on Weight Watchers). Our leader focused on dreams and outcomes this week, giving us the following recipe for a Dreamsicle smoothie (I wonder if you can freeze it?).

Dreamsicle
1 WW vanilla smoothie packet
1 can diet orange soda
ice

Combine in blender and enjoy.

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I give two other (non-WW) recipes for a dreamsicle/creamsicle, which is one of my favorite ice cream desserts:

Orange Creamsicle Smoothie

2 frozen orange juice bars
½ cups cold milk
1 cup vanilla ice cream or frozen yogurt
¾ cup cold orange juice

Blend the juice bars, milk, ice cream and orange juice in a blender. Can substitute frozen orange juice for orange juice bars.

Alternate: Orange Freeze (much easier)

2 scoops orange sherbet
1 scoop vanilla ice cream
seltzer

Slow Food

While I certainly admire the concept of the Slow Food movement, the closest I get these days is my slow cooker. And I love my slow cooker! My neighbor down the street loves her pressure cooker, which is the exact opposite kitchen appliance, and we get into friendly arguments over which is better. It's all about how you like to do things: she thinks about dinner 30 minutes before it should be on the table and there is no way my kids want me in the kitchen at that time. But, they don't mind if I cook dinner, or really assemble it with DP (who does all the meat--I can't do meat, especially at 6 a.m.), during breakfast. And this way I have help!

I have numerous slow cooker cookbooks but it all boils down, for the most part, to meat, vegetables, and sauce. Unless we're doing applesauce or queso or dessert. Or the beans DD dreads. No one else I know uses one--my mom didn't have one, my playgroup mommies do own them (does everyone get one as a wedding present? we got ours as a reward from the company DP worked for in Chicago. Well, there were points and a catalog and that was the thing we liked best) and express interest in using them but don't seem to--but somebody must because the recipes are everywhere. Cooking Light published an independent volume with recipes, the Prevention Guide regularly puts out a slow cooker edition, even Rachael Ray had them on her cover this month. Maybe it's all because of the Fix It and Forget It phenomenon, which popularized slow cooking. Again.

Anyway, the following recipe, which was a real hit with the kiddos (they adore apricot preserves), is in no way about Slow Food, what with all the dry onion soup mix and bottled salad dressing, except it took 8 hours to cook. It's from my favorite slow cooker book of the moment, Jyl Steinback's The Busy Mom's Slow Cooker Cookbook. And it might sound gross and overly sweet but it really does come out very well.

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Apricot-Glazed Chicken

1 ½ lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts
1 teaspoon garlic powder
¾ teaspoon onion powder
1cup nonfat Catalina salad dressing
1-1.1 oz packet dry onion soup mix
1-10 oz jar apricot preserves

Spray inside of slow cooker with cooking spray. Place chicken breasts in slow cooker; sprinkle with garlic powder and onion powder. Combine salad dressing, onion soup mix, and preserves in a small bowl and mix well. Pour salad dressing mixture over chicken. Cover and cook over low heat for 6-8 hours.

Jyl Steinback, The Busy Mom’s Slow Cooker Cookbook

Apples, Apples Everywhere

So, we went to a PYO orchard last week before my mom arrived and romped around the orchards picking more apples than we'd ever need. And those were just the ones that actually made it into the bags! Our goal was to make our own applesauce or apple butter with my mom. You know, family fun. An experience. We came home with pounds and pounds of Ginger Golds and Paula Reds.

Oh, and Asian pears. An aside about these pears: DP is Chinese and gets a little--um, what's the word?--obnoxious about how the Chinese are superior to mere Anglos like me (last count, depending on whom you ask, I'm English, French, German, Welsh, and Scottish. See why it's just easier to say I'm a Texan?). Anyway, this orchard had Asian pears. These are round, juicy, crisps, actually very superior pears. And the kids loved them more than the apples. Which made her very happy. And obnoxious. It's cute, actually. But I don't know how to make anything with Asian pears except eating them cold out of the fridge, so back to the apples . . .

While my mom was here, we started our applesauce project. The lady at the checkout counter had told us that Ginger Golds made great applesauce. We filled a great big pot with water so the kids could "wash" the apples. They ended up more wet than the apples, as did the cat who was curious about the whole procedure. Grammie and DP peeled and cut the apples while I measured the other ingredients. DS repeatedly swiped whole apples and took several bites, while DD preferred the already cut pieces. Turned out we had about 3 times the number of apples we needed but, since we have a large slow cooker, we just made them all. The kids love applesauce.

We left for church and came home to a house redolent with the smell of fall. Oh, it was amazing. And delicious too. I think the adults ate more than the kids, who were surprised that it didn't look like store-bought jar applesauce. Too dark, too chunky. Even if it was better. They didn't eat much, while we planned pouring cream on bowls of it, or filling pie crusts with it.

Try it yourself, from Jyl Steinback's The Busy Mom's Slow Cooker Cookbook:

3 lbs Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored, and sliced (we used Ginger Golds)
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 1/2 tablespoons lemon juice
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

Spray inside of slow cooker with cooking spray. Combine apples, sugar, and lemon in slow cooker and toss to mix. Cover and cook on high heat for 3-4 hours. Mash apple mixture until smooth (we skipped this part). Sprinkled with cinnamon and mix well. Serve warm or refrigerate and serve cold.

Note: we cooked the cinnamon in with the apples, having misread the recipe, but I don't think it hurt it any. And it smelled so good.

The Best Hot Dog Ever

All jokes aside, I'm not really that in to hot dogs. They're good, like at a ball game or park. I have had some excellent ones. There was a vendor at the World Trade Center who would grill them; I always took visitors there for the view and the hot dog. Chicago as a city worships the hot dog, with celery salt, tomato slices, and other oddities--but they are tasty. But I don't seek them out. I'm more of a chicken finger gal. But DP loves her hot dogs. Good ones, mediocre ones, though not bad ones (she shuns the microwaved hot dog). She likes all the toppings and loved when we lived in Chicago with a hot dog shack on every corner. But then she is from NYC, home of the hot dog cart on every corner . . .

Anyway, the other day I accidentally left my cooler of lunch for the kids at home during one of our outings. Good grief, what were we going to eat? As luck would have it, the tiny cafe at the museum sold hot dogs. Hot dogs without any of the fillers that my kids can't eat. Sure, the lady with the son who had celiac and was also reading the label noted, they had nitrates, but what is a cooler-less mom to do? So we had hot dogs. All three of us. And they couldn't have been happier! First, it was the kind of food everyone was eating, including Mommy. And they do love hot dogs (even the uncured turkey dogs I buy from the natural food store). So now we've eaten hot dogs all over Connecticut--at the orchard where we picked our own apples, at the zoo, at the mall. Without any allergic reactions. It's fantastic. They're having a great time being like everyone else. And even if it's a mediocre hot dog, it's the best food ever.

I'll be back

After days of posting really regularly, I've been a little overwhelmed here. While the babes are sleeping at night in their big kid beds (well, they go down okay, but they've been waking up 5-10 times a night. Each. Separately.), they are not napping at all. Which makes for a really long day. On good days, after hysterical playing and then exhaustion during "rest time" which leads not to sleep but to injury, I put them into the car and they're asleep before I'm off the block--I've gotten a lot of crocheting and reading done that way. In fact, today, I finished Laurel Thatcher Ulrich's Pulitzer Prize-winning history A Midwife's Tale, about 18th-century midwife (and ancestor of Clara Barton) Martha Ballard. It was a wonderful journey through one woman's remarkable life as well as a social history of New England, about which I know little (my Ph.D. is Victorian England not colonial US). But I'm too tired to try to encapsulate it cleverly here.

For the next few days my mom will be here. So there should be some great recipe posts. Or none at all. The twins do wear a person out, despite her best intentions to cook.

A Family Affair

We have wonderful neighbors, the kind of neighbors you imagine people those 1950s and 1960s tv shows--generous, friendly, caring, always fully stocked with cups of sugar, and ready to keep an eye on your kids--but also down-to-earth, hysterically funny, and dedicated fans of Desperate Housewives. We've only been in the neighborhood for a few years while these families remember the births of babies now entering later grade school. They've all grown up together, kids and parents. But despite our being the new moms on the block--mind you, we're the only lesbians for at least, well, a block (there are "family" families both east and west by about a block), and no one seems to care (except a couple of the kids who are just curious--is DP a boy? where's the daddy? It's good practice for us)--they've always included us in such get-togethers. Which has always meant a great deal to us.

Actually, they're the kind of neighbors I grew up with. We had a gang of about 6 families, all with kids within 3-5 years of each other. We'd run between all the backyards from after school to after dinner. And on weekends, our parents would congregate in a yard for a crawfish boil or a barbecue (this was Texas, not Connecticut, so the food was different). We rode carpools to school together, went on field trips and also vacations, later attended weddings and now, unfortunately, even some funerals. But it's been 30 years and, even though the families have dispersed to new neighborhoods, the old one still exists for us all psychically. To have found such a place for my own children is the very reason we gave up NYC for the 'burbs. Yards with picket fences and the friendly neighbors on the other side.

Today was the Labor Day picnic. And we had a wonderful time! For the first time, the kiddos weren't particularly clingy (and neither were we)--they had a field day jumping on the trampoline, even with the older, bouncier boys. They also liked exploring a different swingset, complete with horse glider and monkey bars. And managed to eat a whole pile of things--corn, chicken drumsticks, hamburgers, corn chips, salsa, cherry tomatoes. Though, not surprisingly, they didn't eat my baked beans. DD has a thing about beans right now. Ick.

But I include the recipe here anyway. It's my mom's recipe and my favorite way to eat baked beans. Perfect for any picnic. And perhaps, one of these years, we'll host.

Baked Beans
Often served with BBQ, this oh-so-sweet side dish is bubbling goodness! Mom’s note (10/01): “Not all recipes have bell pepper. Friend of D-- and E--served this and Pop really liked it.”

4 slices bacon
½ cup chopped onion
2-1 lb. can Pork and Beans
2 tablespoons brown sugar
1 teaspoon mustard
1 teaspoon ketchup
chopped bell pepper

Cook bacon until crisp, drain and crumble. In 2 tablespoons of drippings cook onion and bell pepper unil tender but not brown. Add with bacon to beans and other, mixing well. Put in 1 ½ quart casserole dish. Bake uncovered at 350°F for 40-45 minutes.

Mom