yummy little pigeons (aka stuffed cabbage rolls)

Author's Note: I originally posted this recipe on August 26, 2011. It is the one I make most often in the winter that reminds me of my family. These cabbage rolls are a delicious labor of love.

Relax, it's not really a pigeon. My mom's father was Polish, and we grew up eating my grandmother's "gwumpki," spelled golabki in Polish, which means "little pigeon." Gwumpki, galumpki, etc. are cabbage rolls stuffed with pork/beef and rice and topped with tomato sauce. Sounds gross, right? I think they are delicious, but members of my family disagree on the subject. We're as divided in how to eat them as we are in their taste. I'll eat them any way at all, plain, salted, ketchuped, whatever. One of my uncles is known to unroll them and drench them in ketchup, claiming this is the only way they are edible. What can you expect from the baby in the family? Nate loves them as much if not more than I do, and I'm convinced it was my mom's gwumpki that sealed the deal on our marriage.

rebuild your gut & immune system post-antibiotics: resources

Disclaimer: I am not a medical doctor or nutrition expert, so please use your own judgment when making decisions about your health.

At the start of 2013, I shared our plan for rebuilding our daughters' good gut bacteria after they were put on antibiotics for upper respiratory infections. I had no idea how popular the article would become. If Dr. Google were the way we followed epidemiological trends in this country, I would say for sure that the overuse of antibiotics and their after effects are of primary concern among Googling parents.

If you haven't read that post yet, I recommend you start there. In that article, I delve into the how and why antibiotics can damage your or your child's gut and immune system, and I give some simple ideas for repairing it. Today I'm following up that post by focusing on more solutions, i.e. extensive ideas for rebuilding your digestive and immune systems. I'm sharing a list of e-book resources to provide ideas and strategies for detoxing, meals, skincare, natural health, and further rationale for your post-antibiotics healthy diet and lifestyle.

building a tinker tent: {carnival of natural mothering}

Welcome to the November 2013 Carnival of Natural Mothering! 

This article is a part of the Carnival of Natural Mothering hosted by GrowingSlower, Every Breath I Take, I Thought I Knew Mama, African Babies Don't Cry, and Adventures of Captain Destructo. This month's topic is Incorporating Natural Into the Holidays. Be sure to check out all of the participants' posts through the links at the bottom of this page.

I recently wrote an article in the holiday edition of Rhythm of the Home about how we are trying to limit the amount of stuff we accumulate, both during the holidays and year-round. I have gotten such great positive feedback from y'all that I decided to share some of what we're doing gift-wise for the kids this year.

Aunt El's cinnamon rolls

Aunt El as a WAVE, Miami, FL, 1941

Author's note: I originally published this post on February 8, 2012. In honor of yesterday being Food Day--which encourages us to get kids cooking--I am reposting my Aunt El's recipe for cinnamon rolls (and dinner rolls) today. It is my children's favorite dish to help me make. I love it because I get to play with them and tell stories about Aunt El, allowing me to--as Kim John Payne says in Simplicity Parenting--"emphasize the importance of now while introducing the infinite."

My Great Aunt Eleanor is one of my favorite people. I happen to believe she was one of the best people ever to have graced the Earth, but I suppose I'm a bit biased. My family ascribed to whatever knowledge El shared with us as the absolute, 100%, golden truth. Perhaps it is because she was the big sister, or because she raised six children, or because of her big personality. Perhaps it was a little of all of those, and it didn't hurt that she always gave darn good advice.

a family dinner by any other name

Selfie in Sweden, pre-kids

After graduating college, Nate and I embarked on a journey as a newly minted family, leaving behind our home state for adventures in the uncharted beyond. Moving away from our families of origin was exciting! Graduate school and moves to the Midwest, the US capital, and across the Atlantic Ocean opened our eyes to different and interesting ways of thinking and living.

Along the way, we became parents. Welcome to the best learning experience of all! While we were thrilled about our growing family, we also encountered our share of challenges and foibles. None of our friends had kids yet, so we navigated the choppy new waters solo while they smiled and did their best to understand the dark circles and panicked voices. Without family in town to assist us, we floundered quite a bit on just what to do with our new bundle of joy. We relied on our nanny to tell us what and when to feed Vivi. I chuckle to remember how we browsed stacks of parenting volumes promising new and different ways to achieve better results, as though she were a new iGadget instead of a person.

Although advice was still only a phone call away, the temptation of “the unknown better” beckoned louder. Eschewing family secrets for propaganda, we replaced the village with pop science. Whereas pride in continuing our families’ traditions was once the goal long ago, shiny-new-object syndrome stepped in and took over.

Unfortunately, our manic pursuit of novelty did not improve our lives. The promise that the latest parenting trend would solve our problems didn’t deliver. We were paralyzed by choice and growing dizzy from the pendulum of polarized philosophies. Put simply, we were not happy parents.

******************

about that time I had an IUD for two days

 A few months ago, I had an IUD for a brief moment. I struggled with whether to write about my experience here, but then Jamie (aka the grumbles) blasted through with all her badassery and Hell Yeah Unicorns, and I was inspired to share my story, although luckily my story is not nearly as horrible and gory as hers. Sorry Jamie.

I am sharing my experience because my story wasn't one of the many I read about prior to getting my IUD. As a doula, I want my clients to have as much information about birth so they can make their own empowered choices. I support whatever those choices are, so long as they are accompanied by corresponding evidence. I feel the same about your reproductive choices, Reader. The More You Know, and all that jazz.

...............................

Last night I watched Lena Dunham's show Girls for the first time. We got the first season from the library, and because binge-watching is our favorite way to get into new shows, we watched three episodes in a row. I am really not quite sure how Girls is related to the rest of what I'm writing about today, but somehow it seems vaguely intertwined. Something about solidarity, mothering our female friendships, hoes before bros, or along those lines. Plus, it's really hard for me to start out by saying "So y'all, about my vagina..." and this side note is my way of stalling.

...............................

So ya'll, about my vagina.

Looking back, I can't even remember exactly why I thought the IUD was the way I wanted to go, except that I was sick of swallowing The Pill's nasty hormone cocktail, and hormone-free birth control seemed like a good option. What I had read about diaphragms wasn't all that gung-ho either, so I figured in the realm of the sucky contraception options available, maybe ParaGard would be okay. ParaGard is the IUD made of copper, and my gynecologist assured me it's been on the market for a long time and is substantially improved from previous versions. I asked a few friends who used it, did some brief questioning of Dr. Google, and then jumped in, vagina-first.

{Warning: some graphic details will follow. Put down your sandwich}.

I'm not exaggerating when I say IT HURT LIKE A BITCH to have the IUD put in. Something about expanding a balloon inside my uterus to check its size (BLARG! hmhmhmhhmhm...I can't hear you...), then some bleeding that resulted from her pinching me from the inside. Yup, you read that right. She stabbed me in my uterus. Ever been poked in an internal organ while under no anesthesia? Doesn't feel great, amiriteladies?

Let me put it this way. I have experienced two unmedicated births, and this experience was hands-down more traumatizing. With my births, I was fully expecting the pain, and I knew it was natural, serving the amazing purpose of bringing my babies to my arms. That kind of pain I can handle. But the kind of pain where she doesn't bother even telling me it's going to hurt, beyond a flippant "this will sting a bit" as she was putting her hands in me, is another story. Once I started up my Lamaze breathing, she glanced over my splayed legs with a half-alarmed, half-annoyed look and said "You're not going to pass out, are you? I've had some women pass out on me and fall off the table." OH REALLY, thaaaaaat's quite interesting. Maybe you could have mentioned that in addition to the sting. A bee stings. This was not a sting.

I went home feeling a little shaky and tried not to think about it.

Cut to a morning less than 48 hours later. I was making eggs in a cast-iron skillet, and even when still cool, it felt hot to the touch. I ran over to the sink and scrubbed my hands clean, but the itchy, burning feeling didn't subside. The closest I can come to describing the feeling is that it's like accidentally touching fiberglass. You can't see the stuff, but it hurts acutely like you want to remove a splinter right away. My hands stayed swollen, splotchy, and red all morning.

I didn't yet connect the trouble to my IUD (Would you have? Three feet away inside me, it seemed like a non-issue), but I did consult Dr. Google with the query, "Why is my skillet giving me hives?"

[This part in the story is where I should probably pause and tell you that no earlier than a week before this problem, I had an exchange with my husband about how I never wear earrings because they are so itchy and uncomfortable. He postulated that like his mom and sister, I probably had a mild nickel allergy. It explained so much, including why some earrings were bothersome and others were not.]

Back to my kryptonite skillet. Google revealed the most common answer to be that modern iron skillets are sometimes plated in nickel because it is virtually indestructible and a good conductor of heat. Aha! That piece of information also helped me understand why our smaller heirloom skillets weren't posing a problem to my hands. They were likely made prior to nickel-plating.

What I hadn't yet figured out is why I suddenly was more allergic to the skillet now. What had changed? The IUD was made out of copper, not nickel...or so I thought? Not so fast, oh-ye-who-trusts-pharmaceutical companies. With some digging, I turned up others saying they had spoken with reps at ParaGard, who explained that while the IUD is coated in copper, it is actually comprised of a nickel core. Say what?

It's not difficult to understand why they chose this make-up because nickel is quite cheap compared with copper. What might be more difficult to understand is why it isn't written ANYWHERE ON THE PACKAGING that nickel is in the ParaGard. Is it still tough to put it together when you hear that nickel is one of the most common allergies? It's no surprise to me that ParaGard isn't advertising the nickel in their product when so many women would potentially be excluded from its use.

I immediately called the doctor, who was actually also surprised to hear that nickel was in the ParaGard. I would have almost preferred her saying "OH, you didn't tell me you were allergic to nickel! Yes, I know about it." She agreed that I should come in immediately and have the offending IUD taken out, which I did. While I may not have had any unicorns dancing around, I definitely saw Bob Marley's three little birds doing a happy dance around me on my way out of the clinic.

It's okay Bob, I'm not worried about a thing any more.

...............................

When I told my cousin this story, she pointed out how much worse it could have been if I had paid for that IUD. So true! Did you know those things can cost upwards of nearly a grand? I didn't until I had it taken out. I won't toot my horn too loudly with this next bit of info, but we have no copay for office visits. As in, I walked in and got the IUD, then two days later I had it removed, and it cost me zilch. But for people who are paying out of pocket, you'd think that medical personnel would be more committed to discovering the ins and outs of their expensive products. What do you think?

reboot family dinner {+ a giveaway of two great books}

{Note: Congratulations to Emily and Jessica, the winners of the giveaway books. I hope you enjoy them, ladies!}

I enjoy our summer lazy routine where we let the girls watch more TV and eat more ice cream, but there's also a quiet bliss to our back-to-school fall routine. We begin spending more hours indoors, whether in school or in our living room, and our busier schedule makes those rarer family trips outdoors to pick apples or play t-ball all the sweeter.

With school fully ramped back up, I am getting back into the swing of family dinner. I admit to struggling a bit at times, continuing to serve the girls summer staples of deviled eggs or tuna salad before Nate and I have our own dinner hours later. And pretty please don't ask me whether they've been eating lots of snacks.

We've had our successes too. On Sunday, for example, we went out to pick apples and filled our bellies to the brim with fruit, so we weren't as interested in a full dinner that night. Instead, the girls played happily in the next room while we chopped and simmered apples close by in the kitchen. They loved to sample a bit of still-cooking, piping hot applesauce, and Daddy whipped them up a quick grilled cheese sandwich and mug of tomato soup while we were still mixing and canning apple creations.

Charlie's favorite part was the bluegrass band playing at the farmstand. Girl after her mama's heart.

We've all heard in recent months about the importance of sitting down to dinner as a family. Lately I've been pondering the definition of "family dinner" and wondering if there's more room to bend the rules a bit. I'm happy to be working with The Family Dinner Project (FDP) to experiment with my neighborhood pals and see if we can make family dinners better together. They have some fantastic ways to fit in food, fun, and conversation with your children into your day.

I'm betting you can guess Vivi's favorite part of the day...

On apple-picking day, we didn't all sit together at one time to share a big spread of food; however, we did connect as a family in picking and putting away a bounty of fall's delicious harvest together. Later on in the evening at bedtime, we played a game FDP calls Rose & Thorn, asking them what their favorite and least favorite parts of the day were and sharing our own.

If you are interested in making family dinner better in your household, I encourage you to check out the FDP website. They have so many wonderful (and free!) resources. I'm also happy to be offering a giveaway today of two books that have helped us keep the kids interested in trying and eating new and different foods, which is one of the important pieces in the family dinner puzzle. Thanks to their generous publishers for making it possible to share these books!

Here are the books you can sign up for a chance to get for free (sign-up is below, and it will be open until Sunday September 22nd, 11:59pm ET):

1. French Kids Eat Everything. I wrote about this book in April, and the post was syndicated on BlogHer. A publicity manager of the publisher, HarperCollins, found what I wrote and offered to share the book with two readers of this blog. I absolutely loved this book; it changed the way we eat dinner forever, and it has made the experience so much more pleasant. See more of what I wrote here.

2. End of the Rainbow Fruit Salad. Here's what I wrote about it in July. The publisher offered to give y'all one of these books as well, so sign up below if you're interested! My kids love this one and still to this day call it the pickle book because of the illustrated pickle who helps make the salad.

WIN THE BOOKS!

Use Rafflecopter below for your chance to win! It's that easy. Just submit a comment or drop me a line by email or Facebook if you're having trouble figuring it out. Good luck!


a Rafflecopter giveaway

{three}

Charlie turned three last week, and I am reeling that she's already older than Vivi was when we moved to Boston. I wrote about Vivi turning three in this post. We marvel at all the ways Charlie is different from Vivi at her age. For starters, her gross motor skills are far superior; she has been swimming with coordinated arms and legs for nearly a year already, and she rarely trips and falls. Vivi was (and still is) falling on a daily or sometimes hourly basis, perhaps because she was taller for her age (100th percentile versus 80th). On the other hand, Vivi had already created 10 whole volumes of Vivisms (here's volume 10 from her birthday week, and here are all of the Vivisms) by her third birthday and had us in stitches every day with her hilarious pronouncements. Like my dad always says, it's amazing how each kid brings their own package into the world. It's so true.

We celebrated Charlie's birthday for the second year in a row (a tradition!) in DC while visiting old friends. She rode a train and a carousel and ate a coconut cupcake with coconut sorbet--she's a coconut fiend! As always, we never could have predicted that a foam alphabet game from the $1 bin at Staples would be her favorite birthday gift, but I love that she's still so easy to please.

Dear Charlotte, 

You are a cuddly joy! You go along with almost anything we want to do, scrambling to keep up with your big sister and shouting "ME TOO!" Just as other parents told me would happen, you are introduced to all that life has to offer at a much faster and earlier pace than Vivi was. Movies, okay. Candy, why not? The big jungle gym, of course!  

I say you go along with what we want, but you are not without your opinions. Almost as soon as you'd drawn your best artwork to date today (a masterpiece of faces!), you decided the picture would look best covered in buttons and purple scribbles and had a near meltdown when I tried to intervene. I am in awe of your tenacity of spirit and at the same time your patience in dealing with a sister (and a mom, for that matter) who insists you follow her every direction and whim. 

Being a clumsy person myself, I am drawn to your grace and athleticism, knowing you will have more success in playing childhood sports than I did. And you're still only three, a fact that we must constantly remind ourselves of, considering your maturity and capability. 

We are so happy to have you in our family of four!
Love, Mommy

soak it up

A break from all the fun with the film Robots. It's a cute one!

Most days I love staying home with my kids, but I admit the little stinkers bring with them a fair amount of absurdity. Sometimes I find that my cup overfloweth with nonsense. But the great thing about having a grandpa visit is that grandpas are nonsense sponges. They ooze their own fun and silliness while simultaneously absorbing all the excess foolishness around them. Hence, Nate and I managed to squeeze in an actual relaxed adult conversation on a walk down to the hardware store, while the tomfoolery ship trailed behind us with Cap'n Grandpa at the helm.

Sorting, playing with, and keeping track of Legos is another of a grandfather's many talents

Along our route, I noted that there were many edible plants, and I thought of Elle. I have been wanting to make salad from the greens that grow in public spaces, but what about dog pee? It seems to me that with all the dogs in our neighborhood, any leafy edible not growing in my fenced-in back yard would be anointed with animal urine. Perhaps it is a given that one should eat their own backyard weeds, but we seem to be lacking in them, possessing minimal dandelions, no violets or chickweed, nor any other weed that I can find. I'll check back in a week and see how it's going back there with the weeds.

In other backyard growth news, we have some seedlings at work now, and Vivi's fairy garden is looking splendid, as our our lilacs. They really are the best of flowers, so fragrant and hopeful.

Our entire fence line looks like this. Thank you previous owners!

Tomorrow is the raising of the big playhouse, and I have pinned all my hopes of relaxing out of doors on its ability to entertain/babysit the girls, so I'll let you know how that works out for us.

Strawberries, lettuce, future fennel, and mint. We will also do tomatoes, carrots, and maybe potatoes.

So, tell me, how does your garden grow?

xoxo
~J

we can improve upon this

I made what is hopefully going to be an improvement to the blog by removing the Disqus commenting feature. I had heard from quite a few people that it wasn't working right, and from my end I noticed that about every fifth comment would disappear for no apparent reason before I could reply. Not deleted, just gone. So I hope if you found it frustrating to comment before that you will do it now. Okie dokie?

This change to the blog got me thinking about other life changes I and others could make. Vivi has been trying to quit the thumb-sucking habit for some time now. Her most recent goal was to quit by her fifth birthday so she could wear nail polish. When that day came and went, she announced "Oh well! I guess we can try again next year." Noooooo!! We've been told by just about every child development professional that we should avoid negativity where the thumb is concerned and make only gentle reminders, but Reader, it is so hard. Any advice here is heartily appreciated.

In return for my gentle suggestions to Vivi, I've allowed her to comment freely on my slouching problem. Who knows if it's a habit developed from my embarrassment over being the tallest by a foot in eighth grade, my desire to go unnoticed in the public school system, or if I just have weak stomach muscles or something, but I slouch...A LOT. If you know me, you are already aware of this problem, along with the fact that I have a funny gait. I saunter, in fact. Imagine, if you will, a mash-up of Goofy and Meg Ryan, and maybe throw in a dash of Olive Oyl. Can you picture it? That is my amble. I am not in any hurry, and I'm pretty sure I couldn't be even if I wanted to.

Some people have notedly tried to help me out with my funny walk by offering me some tips:

"Stick your chest out, like you want men to notice you!"
No thank you.

"Try pilates!"
Um, what?

"You have shin splints because you run so damn weird."
Thanks, Coach.

[When discussing silly walks, are you already picturing Monty Python? Me too!]

So yeah, I could stand up a bit straighter. I think that will be my new self-improvement project. Where's Henry Higgins when you need him, amirite ladies?

Oh, and I'll also add "Stop yelling in the tone of a shrill siren wail" to that edification list. It is so un-lady-like and generally embarrassing. What would you change about yourself if you could?

Reading a book with a grandparent while sucking her thumb might be her all-time favorite activity.

did you ever know that you're my hero? {Updated}

I've been coming up with lots of ideas for what I could write about, but I am actually more interested to know what you're doing. Did you know that, when I write "So, what's going on with you?" I actually want to know what's happening with you? Like, for real. Even if I don't know you in person, I would like to have a chat. So if you're cleaning your refrigerator or petting your cat while you read, I am genuinely interested in finding that out. This means you, Dad.

Update: Ask and you shall receive! I got quite a few messages this morning that Disqus is not working right. Geez, you guys, thanks so much for letting me know. I still don't like Blogger comments, but for now it will be what I'm using. Try it out for me? Thanks!

Moving on from begging, I will share a bit of what's we're up to today. A shipment of two giant boxes arrived in our mudroom. They are waiting for Grandpa Dave's arrival tomorrow so he and Nate can assemble a backyard cedar playhouse for the girls. Meanwhile, our entryway smells delightfully of a cedar chest. I suggested to Vivi that they girls could color the outside of the boxes with crayons, and she enthusiastically replied, "Let's design some plans for this art project." Future engineer?

In other tales of household heroism, Mom and I planned and hung a gallery wall in our stairwell when she was in town. I am quite pleased with how it turned out. Care to take a gander?

The wall on the right is going to have some of its photos swapped, but even empty frames are a huge upgrade from what was there (i.e. nothing). Some of these shots I will leave, though, like the ones professionally taken and all the B&Ws. Others, like the flowers (left over from a years-ago failed nursery project) will be swapped with more chic landscapes. More of England, perhaps? Here, have a closer look:

Right now it has a funky mixture of B&W, sepia, and colors. I'd prefer B&W with red accents, but maybe this is one of those projects where you step back and chew on some hay for a minute before you make changes. Do you have any first impressions to share?

My favorite is the opposite wall, with its mostly symmetrical layout and matching colors.

I need to get a magic eraser for those pencil marks. And where's that personal assistant I ordered?

Mom laid the whole planned display on the floor first, which helped tremendously with placement. Is this a well known decorating trick? I have tried it before, but she added the element of snapping a photo, which was key in avoiding confusion once half the frames were hung.

At one point as I was standing on the old rickety wood ladder, precariously nailing hardware, I noticed a sign on the ladder that reads "This unit is not meant to be used separately." Ha. Fear of heights aside, I found the whole experience completely fulfilling. Productivity provides its own brand of endorphins, I suppose. I just wish I could be as productive all the time as I am when visitors are around, especially my mom, who is the doer of all doers. Therein lies the rub, since most of our visitors probably want to do other things than assist my home improvement exploits.

Perhaps I can lure you over with a glass of white wine. You can sit on the stairs and direct where and how my photo swapping should occur, and I'll do the labor. Deal?

details

Even as I began making some plans the other day for what I would do this week and remarked to myself "I don't have that much going on!," I knew it wouldn't last. Either because of jinxing myself or because life has a way of filling in the gaps, my moment of freedom was short-lived. I got a migraine followed in quick succession by Charlie catching a 24-hour vomit virus. Luckily no one else in the family caught it, but the laundry required by one child during such a night is astonishing. It really makes me pity the people who don't have nearly industrial-sized front-loading washers waiting in their basements to do their sick clean-up bidding.

We're all back in good spirits now, and I've returned to the sorting of the cold-weather and warm-weather clothes. This routine has a method: I find some clothes I truly hate--they seem to materialize out of nowhere, no?--and I stack them in the corner. Then when I come across an item I'm not sure I want to keep, I go over to the stack and sit the item on top. Immediately, I get a gut reaction that is either "Gross, it belongs there" or "Quick, pick it up, or it will be gone!" The key is that you actually have to walk it physically over to the stack, don't just let it hang in the closet or sit in the drawer. The other key is you can't listen to your brain's hasty protests, like "I might wear these jeans to paint the house!" The irrational hoarding part of your brain doesn't know what it's talking about, for you will be far happier without the clutter than you would be if you kept those ugly jeans. I'm sharing my tip with Works for Me Wednesday, though I'm not sure this trick would work for anyone but me. But there you have it. Use it if you will.

So I guess I'm just checking in with the deets, but there's not too much happening over here. What's going on with you? Fill me in!

Yesterday we went on an impromptu picnic after picking up Vivi from school. We sat in the grass under a cherry tree and ate our store-bought tuna wraps in quiet satisfaction. Life burgeons all around us, and as happens so often to me as a mom, I want this moment to last forever. I try to stuff down that guilty feeling I get, wondering if I am enjoying them enough, because it is not a helpful feeling, and because I don't think that part of me will ever be satisfied that I am truly relishing them as I should be. I get the same feeling about the spring blossoms; when I see them, I am both happy and guilty, somehow believing I am supposed to be getting a greater appreciation of them than just the joy I get in seeing them when I pass by.

I watch the girls frolicking in the woods, giggling because they spied a ladybug, and I am struck by how little they look. Satisfied they are still my babies, I turn my attention toward the sun and lie in the grass, eyes closed, to soak it in. Just at that moment and not a second later, Vivi yells "Mommy, my tooth is almost all the way out!," thus breaking my brief truce with the marching of time. Of course her tooth would fall out now. Despite my silent protests, it seems they will keep growing.

I am not one to quote poetry often, but my resignation to life's continual passing brings to mind that Virgil poem Georgics from which we get the phrase "Tempus fugit." Here it is:

Sed fugit interea,

Fugit irreparabile tempus, 

Singula dum capti circumvectamur amore.

But meanwhile it flees: 

Time flees irretrievably,

While we wander around, prisoners of our love of detail.

on the range {week 18}: updated

{On the Range} is my weekly series where I discuss what we're doing, reading, and eating. It's a little bit 52 project and other photo projects, and a little bit {Did you Read?} and {In the Ranger Kitchen}.

On the Range

April 30 - May 6, 2013

"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week in 2013."

I can't claim credit for my post title today. My aunt has a framed photo of herself and her sister as little girls, and she wrote a variation of this sentence below it. It always made me chuckle as a kid, even the thousand and fortieth time I read it, so I've been dying to steal it ever since.

Update: So, apparently it's not a good idea to use certain words in your post title, for they attract p*rn sites. Thus, I removed a sentence in my title that said "A coupla [warm baby birds] standing around." Except I didn't way "warm baby birds" but other words that mean the same thing as those words. You got me? Sheesh, the stuff you learn blogging. It could fill a house. Or at the very least a single-wide trailer.


Milestones

• Vivi came inside after playing to tell me with a serious look on her face..."Mommy, I've realized something. Bubbles are not fantastic, they are terrible and not fun. AND a mess." Then she showed me her hands, which she then proceeded to wash carefully after throwing away the bubble stuff. Is she her father's child or what? Ha! The whole scene makes me giggle every time I think about it again.
• Charlotte is a common name up here, as is the nickname "Charlie" for boys, so one way I like to distinguish my Charlie is to give her lots of other nicknames. Chuck is my personal favorite (did you ever see that short-lived program, Pushing Daisies?). Lotti is not really that cute in my opinion, but it's fun when you add something to it, like Lotti McSniffles when she's sick. I change it up for added interest, like Chuckles McFussyBritches when she's tantruming. Vivi's been playing around with it too, but the other day she said something like "Charlie McFuckles," totally by accident of course, and I still haven't recovered from all the laughing. 
• My little brother turns 20 today. If that doesn't make you feel old, I dunno what will. Happy birthday bro!

Media

• You can't spit without running into a fairy garden these days. They are the terrariums of 2013. But who cares? They are awesome! Whatever gets my kid in the dirt is ok by me. One of my favorite how-tos is this one by Beth of Remarkably Domestic. I think the pipe is too much for me, but I'm all for grouting some rocks onto an old pot I have lying around. Cute, huh?
• Do you love IKEA as much as me? If so, you will love this Apt Therapy article compiling ideas for hacking their furniture to create cute stuff for your kids. I wish I were that crafty.
• I'm not sure if this LA Times story would have always made me so steaming mad or if it's partly because I just got done re-reading Lee's novel. I mean, really, the nerve of people! Will we never live down the stories of old people being swindled by snaky men? Let's hope she gets herself an Atticus-worthy attorney.
• Yet another reason to love Jenny Lawson, cuz she ain't gonna let no door tell her what to do.
• I am so glad I know better than to "birthday jack" Facebook posts about my kid turning 5. So creepy. If this ever changes, friends, you know what to do. 

Meals

• Beef vegetable soup
• I tried a new thing at Trader Joe's, which doesn't happen often. They are called aloo chaat kati, found in the frozen meal section, and they look like Indian hot pockets--except they are way more delicious. Like the samosas at TJ's, it's a vegetarian meal that is greasy enough that it satisfies me the way eating meat does--no easy feat in my mind.
• In the interest of full meal disclosure, I had not one but two bowls of Trader Joe's mango sorbet last night, with coconut sprinkled on top. So yummy.

Vivi's laissez-faire birthday party

The little dears have finally moved away from the age when a group photo involves children standing higgledy piggledy and wizz wuzz all over the place to the age when they put their arms around each other and smile. Or pout, as it may be, but look at the camera all the same.

If you know me only through the blog and not in person, it is possible I have not communicated to you the extent to which my elder child ADORES having a birthday. This little human schemes and hatches her party plans year-round. Some days she wants a Batman rainbow unicorn cake, and some days she wants to go to a water park (dear God why), but the universal components are friends and food. I like that she understands the important aspects of party-planning and doesn't get bogged down in details, which allows me lots of wiggle room.

For me, it is important that party-planning and execution be simple and relaxed. A core element of my personality is that I can't be bothered to fuss when entertaining guests. Adding a secondary layer to my character onion, I think all the focus on children's birthdays has become bananas, and I refuse to take part. The expense, the cheap plastic crap, the stress. What are we teaching our children? I won't go into details since it's a well-covered topic, but I will share my favorites of others who have covered it, e.g. UMN Birthdays without Pressure, a Boston Mamas article, and a Minimalist Parenting article.

Thus, about three weeks before Vivi's fifth birthday, I started running the potential itinerary by her, and darned if she didn't accept all my ideas graciously and even enthusiastically, bless her. I enjoyed sharing her party last year (see my original post and/or when it was featured on Apartment Therapy), so I thought I'd share the party details again this year.


Genevieve's laissez-faire fifth birthday party

The Planning

Going off our rule from years past, she was allowed to invite 5 friends, one per year of age (plus siblings. Poor Charlie had to endure a confusing moment when Vivi said "You don't count at my birthday, Charlie." Her pouty bottom lip will slay you). She has two best friends at school, so I cleared some possible dates with the moms ahead of time, figuring if they couldn't be there, it wouldn't be worth having a party at all. Really, this kid is a fiercely loyal friend.

The Activities

I knew from last year that 2 hours was a good amount of party time and that we only needed one or two scheduled activities. A few months ago, her grandparents gave her and C tie-dyed t-shirts from their island vacation, and she was enamored with the dye process as I explained it from my summer camp days, so I knew we had settled on a good activity with tie-dying shirts.

Tie-dying might be good for older kids, but for five-year-olds, it was mostly me & moms doing all the work. Meh.

Because we normally plan her party close to Cinco de Mayo (giving me a good excuse to serve my favorite snacks, salsa and guacamole), I mentioned to a friend we might get a piñata, and she told me about this great kind with ribbons the kids pull instead of beating it to death a la Steve Martin. Sold!

An activity we didn't do that I still love the idea of is to get an old big white sheet for a picnic, and then when everyone's done eating, give the kids fabric pens and let them draw on the sheet. What fun that would be!

The Food

On the morning of her party, I did a quick shopping trip to our local farm and Trader Joe's to get everything except the avocados and kiwis, which I purchased a few days ahead to give them time to ripen. The kiwis are part of another birthday tradition I started with her last year, which is to buy her exotic fruit. She gets to watch it ripen all week, which just adds another layer to birthday excitement.

I got veggies and strawberries at the farm (a rare time for us to buy out of season). At TJ's, I bought all of the other party stuff: that tray of four kinds of hummus, a bunch of various chips and salsas, and brownie bites and lemon squares. For refreshments, Nate got beer and hard cider (an elderflower type from Angry Orchard, so good), and I got a bunch of those fancy sparkling juices from TJ's. The kids had a big serve-yourself juice container of watered down pink lemonade.

As for the dessert, we have noticed she doesn't love birthday cake but obsessively craves ice cream, so I brought up the idea of an ice cream sundae bar. YES YES YES! I knew at that point we were all set. The kiwis and strawberries went into a bowl, and the brownie bites and lemon squares in another bowl, to serve alongside the ice cream sundaes. Thanks to my mom, who bought Vivi some cooking supplies at Christmas, we already had a bunch of fancy sprinkles to go on top. Oh, and I got the ice cream and mini cones in bulk at the supermarket for cheap a few weeks ago and stashed them in the basement chest freezer I love dearly.

The Party

When the guests arrived, the kids ran around the backyard playing with our hastily purchased dollar store accoutrement, sidewalk chalk and butterfly nets. Watching them enjoy the unscheduled play time, I realized that even with short activities, I was still over-orchestrating the whole event. Next year I'm filling up the galvanized wash tub with water and bubbles and putting some tea pots and cups out there, and I have no doubt it will be enough. You should have seen them chase each other around the yard with those nets, trying to nab their friend's heads instead of bugs. The parent crowd eyed each other, shrugged, and passed around more food and drinks. Three cheers for good friends!

After-Party Run-Down

Here's another party tip: have the right adults present. I had fretted over the possibility of Vivi getting a bunch of crap we don't need for her gifts and pondered the idea of telling them not to bother ("Your presence is the present" kind of thing), but in the end I opted to let them make their own decisions, and it worked out perfectly! All the gifts she got were thoughtful and not what I would call a waste of resources. A fairy garden, a date to paint pottery, and some retro games like a Jacob's ladder. As time goes on, I am more convinced that all I need to do to raise good kids is to surround myself with a good tribe. The rest of the details fall into place on their own, if I have the courage to let go.

Tie dye was a bit of a mess. The kids were into it for about three minutes, until they realized the moms were doing most of the heavy lifting, and then they slowly wandered off. It was nice to be able to send everyone home with a t-shirt, but it wasn't an expected addition so I wouldn't do it again.

The ribbon piñata was fun in that it's much easier and more civil to have the children take turns without having them blindfolded, dizzy, and swinging a heavy bat, but I will tell you that the ribbons did not make the dang thing open. In the end, Nate still had to do the Dad Maneuver (sans wood saw, fortunately) and rip it apart.

To my surprise, the kids didn't dive in and elbow each other to get candy; they were all first-timers, so most stood there with dazed expressions, except for one girl who wisely grabbed a butterfly net and shoved it under the ladybug just in time to catch the spilled candy guts. I high-fived her mom for raising such a practical kid. My mom found these adorable peanut butter and jelly wallets on sale, so we let the kids put their piñata score in them, and I counted those and the tie-dye shirts as "goody bags."

I'm repeating myself with this last party rule, but it's worth saying again, as it is probably the most crucial element: invite a close friend of family member you can boss around, preferably of the female species. Of all the days I say "I wish I had a wife," the day of a party is the day I most need a clone. Last year we had my friend Liza, who stepped in beautifully to pull off the Spiderman (and Spiderwoman!) cookie cakes. This year my mom agreed to come and help wrangle, and I couldn't have done it without her. You want her and Liza on your party-planning team. Thanks Mom!

my love affair with England

Did I mention yet that I think I'll try writing every day this month? Next month I'll be taking a vacation from regular life, and it will likely be from the blog as well, so I thought I'd send off with a month of daily posts. Feliz Cinco de Mayo!

When we lived in England, I didn't write nearly enough on the blog about what daily life was like. I chalk it up to typical me in my twenties. "Life will always be this interesting and therefore why bother talking about what I'm doing?" or something along those lines.

Now of course I see my lack of writing as a bunch of wasted material. From time to time, I think about sharing that journey with you, but it seems awkward to bring it up randomly. Hey guys, remember when I used to live overseas that time five years ago? Let's talk about it!

But now I have my nose in another Jane Austen novel, at the same time as I'm reading a biography about the great William Morris and watching a Masterpiece version of Emma that I rented from the library (did I mention I'm obsessed with Victorian England?), so my travels have been rattling around in my mind. It seems like as good a time as any to bring it up with y'all.

Oh, first I want to mention the Masterpiece Emma. Have you seen it yet? I'm enjoying it so far. It has the naturally slow pace of a Masterpiece series, and it's fun to see all the usual British suspects playing the beloved Austen characters. Who doesn't want to see more of Johnny Lee Miller? So far, the most interesting distinction from the Gwyneth Paltrow film (an absolute favorite of mine, likely in the top 10) is the spotlight on Miss Bates. She was a bubbly caricature in the film, providing little more than comic relief--"PORK, Mother!" and such. But in this series, you get an in-depth look at how miserable her life must have been to have only her senile mother as a companion. You truly feel what Austen must have wanted us to see. A woman without fortune was certainly pitiable in that day.

In contrast, I don't think it's possible for an actor to improve the job Juliet Stevenson did with Mrs. Elton in the film version. I'll share some pictures with you to honor my favorite of her lines, "People with extensive grounds are always so pleased to meet other people with extensive grounds." Here here!

I miss living somewhere that there were other tiny towns a half kilometer away.

This one makes me tear up thinking of how perfect and calm my life was in England, nesting for my new life as a mom and taking in all the sights and smells of spring.

One part of the Masterpiece Emma I loved is seeing the fields of rapeseed again (the stuff that makes canola oil, with the worst name imaginable). They are so lovely you can't look upon them without smiling. Add this to the list of things you want to see before your time is up.

The year we were in England, it seemed the fields burst into life the very same day as Genevieve, so I also always think of her when I see them.

Here are some from far away. Cool, huh?

What do you think, should I write more about England some time? I have many more pics I can share.

in with the new

Spring is finally here to stay. With it came all the bargain shopping experiences you know I love. Negotiating ain't my thing, but if the price is set, I'll buy--and the last hour when everything is half price is fun too.

This weekend was my church's rummage sale, which is always a favorite. The children's book section is where I make a bee-line during the volunteer pre-sale. Check out some of these "awwww"-inducing finds:

Last year I volunteered during sale week by marking prices on breakables, but not being a tchotchke collector, I was worried I did it badly and found the experience stressful. This year I stuck with sales, which I liked because it involved talking to people. I met lots of the congregation who come to the 11am service. They all sized me up to be a 9am-er, "because all you 9am-ers have small kids."Yup.

The hardest part about sales was the rush at the end of the half-price sale. Everyone seems to assume you will give stuff away for nearly free just to get them out of your hair and because you don't want to cart the goods off to charity. They are mostly correct in this assumption, but I must tell you a hard truth. This segment of society--who haggle with volunteers at a rummage sale from which the proceeds go to a good cause--they weren't raised right by their mamas. My fellow fraught cashier could be heard a time or two exasperatedly bristling, "Oh all right, have it your way." I just laughed because laughter is how I handle awkward folks. Well, laughter and judgmental blog posts.

The adult book section--by that I mean books for grown-ups, not of the three-x variety--also had some great finds, so I think my summer reading selection is nearly complete. I put it up on Goodreads in case you're on there too and want to follow along or comment. If you're an avid reader and not yet on Goodreads, check it out! The combined inventions of GR and Pinterest mean I almost never miss a book recommendation these days.

Would you count Faulkner and James as summer reads, though? Hmmm, perhaps not. What do you have on your current book list?

p.s. I've already read Stumbling on Happiness, but I gave it away years ago and thought I could use a refresher. Do you give away books you liked? I can't handle clutter, so I find it's easier for me to get the book again later from the library or a used book sale than it is to lug it around for years. If I keep it, I just end up resenting it gathering dust. Plus, giving it away means I get to share book-love, which is one of my favorite life activities!

p.p.s. I admit that pic above of the books isn't great to show off the titles, but I wanted to squeeze in my other new purchase. That little bowl on the left is also a find from the church sale. Three bucks! I've been looking for a bowl for all the cell phone hoopla, and this one fits the bill nicely, doncha think? Here's a better shot of the books:

leaning in to road rage

I am writing a post about the fifth birthday party scene, but I must pause first and tell you separately what happened to me yesterday. I've begun listening to Lean In: Women, Work, and the Will to Lead while I carpool the kids to various shindigs, and it gives me a nice pep talk in the car. Some parts I disagree with (e.g. "50% of men should stay home with their children." What the what? Do we really want a society in which this happens? Just, no.), but I am enjoying her anecdotes from the workplace. She describes many incidents in which women colleagues demur for no apparent reason at all or are shushed by men when trying to speak. I have definitely politely demurred to men in my office. But no more! Watch out world, another feminist is being let loose.

So I'm having another pep talk on the way to school yesterday morning, and I'm pondering the ways in which I put myself second on a regular basis. Bear with me while I set the scene, I am going somewhere. To get to Vivi's school, I drive from one exit to the next on a little access road that follows our highway. It's a quick drive down this access road and gets me to my destination a full 3-4 minutes faster than the back roads, and the only minor annoyance is when I meet with the ramp coming off the highway. The access road has two lanes, and I use the left lane because I make a left turn at the exit. The ramp off the highway also feeds into this left lane, and because I am already in the lane and there is no yield sign, I assume I have the right-of-way. Note that when I am the one coming down the ramp, I slow way down and make sure no one is already in that lane before I merge. But most a$$holes do not do this slow-down maneuver. Instead, they barrel through at the same speed they were driving on the highway and expect you to slow or swerve out of their way.

But today, Reader, I did not demur. I saw a big honkin' truck coming down the ramp, but I continued on my merry way ahead of him, chin held high, blaring Sheryl Sandburg at full volume. This man did not want to yield and continued playing chicken for a minute, but I knew he saw me and would slow down eventually. But Oh ho ho! What I didn't know is that he would then lay on his horn, swerve into the right lane, roll his window down (this was a nice morning so we all had windows down), and scream--in plain view of my two small innocent lambs--"Learn how to drive, BITCH!" and THEN cut me off and slam on his brakes.

Reader, it was at this exact minute that I had an epiphany.

The road is not the place to lean in. There are, in fact, probably lots of locations where it's wise--for either safety or sanity's sake--to step back and let the boys do their thang. Even if their thang happens to be screaming at pretty ladies on the highway. From now on, I'll be taking my Sandburg in smaller doses, and never on the highway.

Have you read her book yet? What did you think? If you're a woman, do you feel like you demur to men's opinions or their place at the table? I think I do, but I'm not sure it's such a bad thing. I mean, they need the big piece of chicken, right? Let's chat about this stuff, ladies.

I have no photo to go with this post, so here's me showing my bud the b-day party tie-dye battle scars.

{five}

Genevieve turned five years old this week. For some reason, five seems like a huge milestone. Perhaps it's because I remember turning five myself...or rather, I remember the dreaded booster shot in the hiney. These kids today have no clue how fortunate they are that they can forgo this exercise in humiliation. But as I was saying, five is a huge birthday, and I'm hanging on for what is sure to be a wild ride of a year.

I'll write more soon about the birthday party, but for today here is my yearly letter to sweet Vivi.


Dear Genevieve,

Over the past year, I've seen your four-year-old personality continue to develop, and much of what I said last year applies to you this year as well. It's an extraordinary journey to be invited to witness the cultivation of your marvelous self. Mostly, I feel like you are molding me instead of the other way around. A new friend exclaimed, "Vivi's face lights up at EVERYTHING. How wonderful!," and I couldn't agree more. Here are some of my favorite of your qualities:

:: keen eye for detail :: You have a precise and discerning regard, and you can often be heard from the backseat reminding me, "Mommy, it's faster to go the other way to the library, remember?" What would I do without your help in getting where I want to go in life? Your keen eye extends to the fashion world too, and your nose crinkles when I attempt in my own fumbling manner to broaden your clothing horizons outside your limiting criteria of 1) pink, or 2) leggings (see also: ruffles). To your credit, this spring you are stepping out in frocks of blue and green (praiseallujah).

:: leadership potential :: What others might call bossiness, I see as the leader in you exploding forth. You direct the operations of many a household task or sisterly game, and I wouldn't choose any other executor as my partner (with the one exception of your daddy). I hope you seek an opportunity to lead a team as an adult, for you will make a heck of a chief. May your brave quest to lead both men and women happen without or in spite of the limitations that both genders seek to put on women who lead my generation.

:: sharp wit :: You've become a lover of Shel Silverstein already, and you laugh heartily throughout his poems. I'm thrilled to share a sense of humor with you. Your expansive vocabulary grows ever greater, and your hunt for information is nearly unparalleled in my experience (your schoolmate Jacob vies for first place in this area, asking his grandmother today, "How was Europe formed?").

:: tender heart :: When I asked you if you wanted to make your grandpa a birthday card, you said "Yes! But I'm going to need a really big card because there are going to be lots of hearts." I hope you will maintain your loving nature and with it, your ability to bring even the shiest of friends into the fold with your patient and kind ways. You are a genuine people lover, and I feel lucky to be loved by you.

:: endeavorous spirit :: Endeavorous is not a word, although I'd like to make it a new one for you because I feel it sums you up so well. You are willing and even excited to try new things, whether they be activities, sports, or food. You encourage our whole family to experiment with your love of life. Thank you for being a stupendous individual.

Love,
Mommy

Teaching Charlie to play baseball.