Bon Appetite!

If there is one thing that I have learned while surfing through friends' and strangers' blogs alike, it is this:

You are not a true blogger until you have posted a recipe.

I do not care what the recipe is for, and if you were to argue that many blogs have nothing to do with anything that would necessitate a corresponding recipe, well, you'd be wrong. Blogs about die-hard dachsund-lovers, you argue? Organic milk bone recipe. Star Wars enthusiast? Skywalker Sliders (light saber garnish optional, but highly recommended). Here's the rub: I don't cook, and on the rare occasion that I do, I'm not excited about it. But it seems as though every blog I read contains at least one culinary tutorial, leaving me feeling a little inadequate in my own postings so far (unless "Add 1 cup skim milk to 1 cup cornflakes, stir and serve" constitutes?)
Didn't think so.

So it is with great pride, thrillage, and made-up words that I present to you my very own recipe. Since this will most likely be the only recipe I ever write about, I'm going to savor the experience for all its worth and provide you with the backstory...

Since starting my post-baby exercise regime, I have become more consious about the foods I consume, getting my jimmies off of knowing that what I am eating is either fuel of some type, or a decadent occasional treat. When considering how constrained my time is in the mornings, I brainstormed up a quick, pop-in-your-mouth snack that would contain the right type of nutrition to support the impending exercise. So far, my "Peanut Balls" (I won't laugh, nope) have been a flourishing success, so says me.

So here is it, friends, family: My Very Own Peanut Ball (tee hee!) Recipe. I'm so excited! Omg omg ok here we go:

Ingredients:

1/2 of a 16 oz jar of Trader Joe's organic, unsalted peanut butter

1/2 of an 8oz bag of Trader Joe's raw almond slices (any type of raw, unseasoned almond will do, but I prefer the sliced variety for their texture)

1/4 cup of organic honey

1 cup of  Trader Joe's WonderCocoa powder

3/4 cup of water

Mix water and cocoa powder to form a paste.

Mix all ingredients in a bowl. Roll into 1" balls.

Freeze.

Store them in the freezer; even frozen, they remain soft enough to bite into.

Warning: these puppies are DENSE. Keep in mind that they are meant to be eaten one at a time as a
form of sustainance, not popped like Rolos. It also seems silly to clarify, but you will not enjoy these bite-sized snacks if you don't like peanut butter. But I feel that the protein content with honey and cocoa powder for added taste is the perfect combination. If you're feeling particularly motivated, other things you can try adding to the mix are flax seeds and vitamin B12 drops (you can find them at Sprouts).

Happy "cooking"!

                                  

I'm, like, a mom, for realsy.

Lots of exciting things going on lately for our little munchkin, who is not so little any more - 20 lbs, to be exact. First, he has been crawling up a storm for the past month, typically straight past his toys and onto the much more alluring calls of our rustic Mexican pine coffee table (complete with pointed, "rusted" handles). While our baby proofing could probably use a little bit more fire under its ass, Max has done quite well exploring much of the house without so much as a bump here and a scrape there. He has also picked up some adorable little habits. He has started to pucker is mouth into an "O" and breathe through it creating a whistle noise due to the seperation of his front teeth. Totally adorbs! Also, my husband and I were mesmerized when he started to snap while eating his solids in the high chair. Yes, snap. All throughout dinner. Totally serious expression on his face, as if to say, "yes, I am snapping. Care to provide a little bass line?" If you didn't know, Max's parents are kind of scary fanatics of Michael Buble so this was a real treat. Then we started talking about all the shows he'll sell out and what his set list should be and how he should go by just "MAX" 'cause that really pops written in lights.

Anywhoo, Max continues to go to physical therapy every other week. We are hoping make them monthy visits soon, as he is making all the right strides developmentally, and so far, his torticollis has shown very little in the way of affecting his milestones. Max also started swim lessons this week! Our little fishie will enjoy 8 lessons in hopes of getting him comfortable and familiarized with the pool. We go to classes through Kidtastics, which a friend of mine co-owns and for which she teaches. Max and I attend with my friend and her sweet little daughter, so the four of us are sharing this awesome experience together.

In addition to PT, swimming lessons, and our old standby, Musicology, Max and I continue to go to Stroller Strides a few times a week. It's incredible how after only 8.5 short months, we have so much to do, a pretty solid routine, and as I said in earlier posts, I am feeling pretty on top of my game with him most days. So it shouldn't have come as a surprise to me when, after our workout as a mommy friend and I were feeding the babes in Starbucks, another mother came up to us and asked us for some advice. She was hauling a double stroller with two beautiful, sleeping twin baby boys and juggling a diaper bag with her fresh cup of something uber caffeinated, I can promise you that. As she approached my friend and I, holding our respective kids, I thought she may be wanting to know what exercise program we are a part of, or, as I had wondered myself before discovering Strides, "why are you all hoarded in front of Starbucks every day at 10:30 like a swarm of bees?" Instead, she asked us if we wouldn't mind giving her a few tips on feeding, how many ounces, have they started solids? How did you know when to stop burping them? etc. She appeared as though she had it all together, but the woman had questions, and she was refreshingly candid about her feelings of being overwhelmed at times. Now keep in mind, I have only been a mother for under 9 months, and as she looked at us for a little guidance, her eyes wide with acceptance of anything we were willing to give her, I had a flashback. That was ME. Not long ago. AT ALL. I had asked so many questions, just like her. I had dark circles under my eyes, no offense lady but just like her. I had a cup of something dangerously caffeinated in my grip at almost all times, probably just like her. And here I am now, sitting on the other side of the table, being asked. All of a sudden I felt like I should be perched on a tree somewhere, all feathery sporting a gradution cap and monacle, gesturing to a chair saying,"sit, sit, let me tell you all about it." I had the answers. At least, I had the answers that worked for me, and this woman wanted to know my experience. I have an experience.

As my friend and I answered her questions, her head bobbled in appreciation and mental note-taking. I had to laugh - that was SO me. Still is, at times.

It's amazing how quickly new mothers bond with one another. Do we bond out of our shared anxieties and fears? Or is it moreseo the common denomiators that now bind us, like the sleeplessness and selflessness that comes with the territory? My appreciation level went through the roof when a more experienced mommy could give me a tip, or hell, just nod and tell me that what I was feeling/doing was normal. I never felt so extrordinary to be told that my experience was ordinary. The gratefulness was palpable. I would want to hug and kiss that woman, buy her a frozen yogurt, and possibly, down the line, get her name tattood on my ankle.

Whatever the common denominator is among new mothers, it is strong, it is visceral, it is everlasting.

Tale As Old As Wine

So if you are a mommy, you no question understand the importance (and efficacy) of singing to your baby as he drifts off to sleep. Lullabyes are a staple of our napping and night-night routines. That being said, I knew from the beginning that I would sing plenty of songs (slowed down and sung softly, lullabye-ing them up, if you will) from the Disney movie collection. Namely, from the movies I grew up adoring, like Beauty and the Beast.

If you have yet to enter into motherhood, here's a tip: starting a lullabye is much like starting up a steam locamotive. It's a lullabye, people - its intent is to lull. Once it begins chugging along, there is no stopping, no "um, um, what was that line?", lest you want your little one waking up from the botched attempt of maintaining song flow and staring up at you like an unimpressed preteen.

No. Once you're out of the gate, you must keep the tempo, and if you forget the lyrics, well, you'd better scrape together some suffiecient replacements and keep on a-going. Such was the case yesterday afternoon during Max's nap routine in the glider. It being from one of my favorite Disney movies from my childhood, I was shocked that I couldn't remember the words, and had to scramble up whatever I could to make do. I apologize to all Disney fans, and namely, Alan Menken and Howard Ashman, the lyricists for "Belle", from Beauty and the Beast. Enjoy:

Actual lyrics                                                                   Mommy lyrics

Little town It's a quiet village                                          Little town, such a quiet village
Ev'ry day like the one before                                           Every day like the one before
Little town Full of little people                                          Little town, full of little people
Waking up to say:                                                          Waking up to say:

Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour!                   Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour!

There goes the baker with his tray, like always                 There goes the baker with his bread and something
The same old bread and rolls to sell                                 To sell some bread and stuff to selllllll
Ev'ry morning just the same                                            Every morning just like me
Since the morning that we came                                      One plus two can equal three 
To this poor provincial town                                             It’s so crazy in this town
Good morning Belle!                                                       Good morning, Bellllllle!

Look there she goes that girl is strange, no question          Look there she goes she’s such a spaz no question
Dazed and distracted, can't you tell?                                 I can’t remember what to telllll

Never part of any crowd                                                  But the morning such as she

'Cause her head's up on some cloud                                  Is he good enough for me?

No denying she's a funny girl that Belle                             It's a snap and crackle pop that little Belle

Bonjour! Good day! How is your fam'ly?                            Bonjour! Good day! How is your fam'ly?

Bonjour! Good day! How is your wife?                               Bonjour! Good day! How is your wife?

I need six eggs! That's too expensive!                               I need! A book! What's going on here?

There must be more than this provincial life!                     There must be more than this provincial liiiiiife!



Don't judge - I got a two hour nap outta that one.
                                                        

Wish upon a star

While Max did dangle the carrot in front of me for awhile by napping effortlessly in his crib, alas, it was just a phase, and he is now back to dozing on my person. If I am going to be completely honest, however, I must say that I enjoy this time, as I know it will be gone sooner than I could ever imagine. Furthermore, and something I have come to find quite significant about "our" nap schedule, I too am able to have the time to rest my body and my mind from all the chaos and 'to-do's' that motherhood brings.

What now seems like years ago, back when I was registering for baby stuff, I researched and added (read: copy-pasted from another mom's registry) a simple night light in the shape of a star. It looked sweet online - providing a pale yellow glow, the shape of it soft, like a star you might see in the pages of a Pooh storybook. Fitting enough, I didn't give it too much more thought and gleefully clicked "add to wishlist".

Some ten months later, I now rock with baby in my arms in his nursery, kept cool amidst the encroaching heat by the overhead fan and some gentle assistance by the muted blues on the walls. I pan the room: there's the tree painted on his wall, branches reaching out to hover over and protect the quote displayed over his crib ("Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We will get there some day." -Winnie the Pooh). Then there's his little book shelf filled with pages of stories, letters, numbers, and imagery that he will absorb on a different level each time he revisits them. And there, glowing near the carpet and providing a soft illumination of this baby haven, is the star night light. As I rock my sleeping son, I can hear only the whirr of the fan and the rhythmic creaking of the glider. My eyes rest on the night light, and I am transported. Not in the sense that I am looking to leave the bliss that is holding my baby boy as he dreams, but just as his mind is able to drift away to wherever it may, so is mine for that 75 minutes. For a few of those minutes, I am back in my own childhood room in Northbrook, Illinois, laying on my bed playing with my stuffed animals and listening out for the "call" that our neighborhood game of Capture the Flag is about to begin. More minutes might be spent strolling in the sand on the shore of Lake Michigan.  Other minutes, I am playing cards with my dad at the kitchen table while he teaches me words in foregin languages. Or I am once again meeting my husband for the first time. My mind gets to dance from memory to memory, and I am there. Amidst a schedule that is jam-packed with bottle washing, diaper changing, and stroller pushing from this thing to that, these 75 minutes are filled with places and spaces I will always hold right up against my heart.

In the span of eight short months, Max's nursery has become my refuge of sorts, and my spot in that glider gives me a vantage point I will never forget for as long as I live. His painted tree, his quote, his book shelf. I know that when that small block of sun dances its way across the shadowy wall and is illuminating the "W" in 'Winnie', it is 5:30pm and my little boy should begin to stir any minute now. Our minds will converge to the present, from wherever they were, and the nursery will come into focus once again. I will stand up with him in my arms, kiss the top of his head, and out the door we will go.