Scenes from Almost and Saturday

Late last night I finished my book.  I was, and still am sad that it's over, as the author hasn't written as more non-fiction that I can tell.  Still too awake to fall asleep with Wednesday, I went to Amazon.com and began my insomnia ritual of going through all my lists.  Did you know you can leave comments for yourself on your wishlist?  Adding a few words for the things I'd saved for Christmas or Halloween was very satisfying.  I am also feeling very "called" to homeschool the boys, in some context, these days.  I found a bunch of good looking books for beginners, and then stumbled upon a couple of Listmanias that really shortened my search.  But I still wasn't sleepy, in my brain or otherwise, so I went to look at the cookbooks.  Oh the lovely cookbooks!  I think I saved about 30 to my wishlist.  (Like this one, and this one, and this one, Oh My!)  I had just started a search for baby and Mama yoga DVD's when the battery on my laptop died.  I gave the sleeping 2 year old a large pouty lip and reluctantly got under the covers to go to sleep.

Now, as I write this silliness, I'm sitting on the bed in the boys room in the middle of a de-funked naptime.  The big boys went to the beach with friends this morning while Wednesday and I tackled the farmers' market (where I could feel the sweat dripping down my legs) and Target (where a grown man couldn't say "excuse me", but instead just pulled out in front of my very full cart on the way to check out).  When we all got home, the plan was for the boys to come nap with me in our bed and for The Mr. to finish cleaning up beach stuff and read.  I sang the songs and held the hands and patted the parts, but neither of my creatures would sleep.  Winston started fiddling with the tag on a stuffed animal in the co-sleeper and Wednesday just wouldn't keep his arms still.  So I told Winston to go "out there" with Papa if he didn't want to nap so we wouldn't have to fight about his behavior.  Then, I realized that Wednesday wasn't going to go back down either.  Sigh...  "Do you want to go back nigh-night or do you want to get up?"  Get up, of course.  So I took a much needed shower and brought Wednesday to the front of the house, thinking we could just move along with our big meal of the day and I would just push past my tireds again.  

Now, or course, Winston has decided to take a nap on the couch, and I got shooed out of my own living room.  Rocking and holding didn't produce more nappage for the little one, so now I'm here and he's there <<<<<  playing with Handy Manny and pulling books out of the shelf.

Happy Saturday, my dears.  I hope your nap times are long and your patience isn't short.

Good News, Bad News

The good news is:  I found the ant trap that went missing after The Mr. did the dishes for me last night.

The bad news is:  He washed it in the dishwasher (LMAO).  I re-ran the dishwasher on hot, high, and sanitize.

The good news is:  My headache and general heat sickness from yesterday was cured with Benadryl and Tylenol over night.

The bad news is:  It led to a very med-induced dream right before I woke up.  I couldn't find my husband, after my parents house had been broken into, and "Tears in Heaven" was playing in the background.  I'm blaming it for any and all tears shed this morning.  Stupid dream.

The good news is:  My dr. appointment today was good.  We set an official c-section date of September 24, and they'll call me with the time soon!  It's so very good to have a date, and the one we wanted.

The bad news is:  I had to drink that horridly sweet drink required for the gestational diabetes test.  It always makes me feel like crap and I'm still feeling it.  BLECH.

The good news is:  I feel like blogging ALL THE TIME now.  

The bad news is:  I feel like blogging ALL THE TIME now.

:)

And The Little One Said:

I was in the bathroom trying to finish getting ready for bed two nights ago.  Actually, I was just peeing for the fourth time in 20 minutes, so I wouldn't have to get up again as soon as I fell asleep.  A piercing scream in a Winston-like key came from the bedroom where the boys were waiting to be read to and I lumbered as quickly as I could to see what had happened.

"He bit me, Mommy!"  What?!?!  "I was just trying to hug him and he bit me!"  Climbing into the bed I jumped all over Wednesday for biting and snuggled his brother close to love and inspect the bite.  It was a bad one; almost through the skin.  I calmed him down, told Wednesday again that biting was a No No, and began reading.

But a few pages into our first story, Wednesday was still really upset.  "Bitty, you know better than to bite, why are you so sad?" I asked.  With droopy eyes and a pouty lip he said, "I tried to eat Bubba!"  He cried and cried, disappointed in himself that he'd thought to do such a thing.  I burst out laughing, looking at Winston and imagining his little brother taking a bite of him.  "It's not funny, Mama", Winston said and started to cry again.  This set Wednesday off again and I held them close to me while I laughed and cackled and their funny brains.  I looked down at Wednesday and he said again, in shock this time, "I tried to eat him, Mommy!!".

My husband came back from reading his book to see what all the noise was about, and he was tickled too.  All through that night, after we finished singing lullabies, Wednesday would repeat his horror, and I would snicker.  

Then this morning, on our way to the beach, Wednesday started to cry again.  His nose was stopped up, and he was distraught.  The poor kid hasn't had a booger-free day since he was born.  "It's ok, Baby.  Do you want to hold hands?"  I held his tiny fingers and the Mr. asked what was wrong.  "I just want a new nose, Mommy!!", he wailed.  "I don't want this one, anymoe!".  We reassured him that his nose was beautiful and would feel better once we got to the beach.  It did, and he says he has a new nose now, but it was damn funny at the time.

Books to Munch On.

I had to take Winston to his dentist appointment on Tuesday.  Ever since his very first visit, when we found out he needed fillings done, my husband has always taken him.  But, it was time for his cleaning and The Mr. is teaching summer school so Wednesday and I went with him.

The last time he was there he was great about them using the scraping tools on his teeth, but the round, electric toothbrush freaked him right the hell out.  So I was going to try my hardest to prepare him for the sensations better this time.  I didn't want him to be scared of something that isn't painful, and I didn't want Wednesday to be frightened on his first visit to a dentists' office.

So without further ado, I'd like to dedicate our completely successful and smile-filled visit to Just Going to the Dentist, by Mercer Mayer.  Little Critter seriously saved the day, my friends, and I would recommend this little book to anyone preparing a young child for the dentist.  All of the different feelings were discussed and illustrated:  apprehension, awe at the equipment, the tickling and sound of the toothbrush, ever what getting a filling feels like.  Thank goodness for Little Critter!

The Sunday before, we took the boys to Barnes and Noble after dinner.  Our last library visit as a family was quite a fiasco, and we had a gift card so it seemed like a good idea.  The Mr. reads so very quickly, he goes through 2 books a day sometimes!  He was in serious need of a new story, so after he found something readable, he took the boys to the children's section.  I wasn't planning on getting anything for myself, but after the boys finished with the choo-choos, I thought I'd just browse the cookbooks.  I've read the reviews of so many really great books on bread and canning and general homey-cooking and I wanted to see what B&N had to offer.  On a table in the cookbooks I saw something that caught my eye.  If I'm being really honest I haven't read an actual books since long before I got pregnant again.  I've read lots of cooking, crafting, and children's books, but nothing with a plot of any sort.  

Too Many Cooks, by Emily Franklin caught me completely by surprise.  Suddenly, I'd found the book that would get me reading again and I was giddy with knowing all the yummy words that were coming to me.  What really won me over was this:  "...this is a narrative family eating."  "Mainly, I don't have a platform.  I'm not here to lecture about local or organic or beef or sweets."  "Too Many Cooks is an 'eating book'".  Isn't that brilliant?  And the relaxing tone of the stories has made this book such a joy and an ever present inspiration in the kitchen.

So far we've conquered rhubarb, real popcorn from the stove, and eggplant.  Next up are tofu, fresh artichokes, and plantains, among other things.  I also picked up A Homemade Life, which along with Dooce's newest book, Split by Suzanne Finnamore, and Cynthia Kaplan's most recent memoir have me longing for the days and nights when I can just devour words for hours on end.

Happy munching...

Pink Celery, Bitter Apples.

I made my very first rhubarb-inspired dessert tonight, and I could not be more happy with it.  After seeing so many gorgeous recipes on various crafty-mama blogs, I finally decided to try it, if only for the adventure of cooking something I'd never done before.  

Winston stood in the kitchen while I minced fresh ginger (he smelled it and got it on his nose!), pears, and finally the rhubarb.  Thinking ahead, only slightly, as I was already elbow deep in the recipe, I tasted it raw.  I remember eating a strawberry-rhubarb pie at my maternal grandmother's house as a child and HATING it.  Could it have been because my Mama warned me it would be awful?  I think probably so.  I took a tiny bite and was shocked at how yummy it was.  Imagine a very unripe green apple and that is both the taste and texture of uncooked rhubarb.  Winston ate three bites of it raw and wanted more, but I stopped him.  Silly boy.  He is the picky eater of the family and was standing there eating something completely out of his comfort zone with glee!

I added orange zest and half of the juice from one orange, then topped it with oats, almond cookies, turbinado sugar, and butter.  It was so, very, extremely delicious.

Even with my impending, 3-days-in-the-making-headache, I am overjoyed at this simple little dessert.  Even more so, I am utterly amazed that Winston devoured his portion, when normally he is so hesitant.  This, combined with his newly acquired, and still developing emotional regulation is leading our relationship back to the very lovey, silly place it was when we was a baby.

I have so much more to say, about the book I'm reading, what I fed my parents when they were here, my crazy body...  But the head-bone hurt looms and I'll be back tomorrow...

PS:  The main recipe came from The Fussy Eater's Recipe Book, with a few alterations from Jamie Oliver's newest cookbook.

Book Mark

This is just an accountability post for me so I will actually come back and write what's in my head.  I have funny pregnancy things and book stuff and food stuff.  So there, brain, you must write now!

About Last Night

Last year we ended up parked on the Harbor Bridge.  We left too early this year and went down to North Beach instead.  Right as we got out of the van

the 

fireworks

started!

Winston was AMAZED.  He stood, holding my parents hands.  Wednesday was on my hip while I held onto my beloved with my other hand.  

I always HATED fireworks before I had the boys.  They were loud and wasteful, and I just didn't care for them.  This year I cried.  I cried for the change that I still hope will come for our country, for the imminent end to the war that I long for, for the baby boy growing in my belly and my family all together.  

Winston walked back and grabbed his Papa's hand, "give me a kissy" I said, and he pooched out his gorgeous lips and kissed my teary face.

My precious boys.  My parents that I love more now than I ever have because we've accepted each other.  

Thanks, God.  I'm grateful to be an American.  I'm hopeful that it will only get better.