Still learning

We've lived here for 5 years this July.  Un-un-un-un.  And though it does feel normal by this point, I'm still amazed.  "Time flies."

I can remember back to the spring of 2008 when I was so utterly horrified by the amount of flies in the house.  They came creeping and crawling out of the cracks and buzzed at the windows en masse when the weather warmed up a bit.  Oogie, it was gross. 

(And I don't know why . . . but it hasn't been as bad the past couple of years.  I can't imagine we've done anything different?  Maybe 2008 and 2009 were particularly bad "fly years".)

With that, I was shocked to understand the purpose in the fly-tape I had previously observed in rural homes.  I had always thought it was so disgusting, wondering why on earth anyone would want something so repulsive in their house . . . then finally realizing what a necessary evil it was.  Fly-tape covered in dead flies is better than the little buggers buzzing all over your house.

Well, now I've come to another realization.  One that involves dirty carpet at the bottom of the steps of an outside entry.  Yuck.

We use our back door as the primary entrance in our home.  It's closer to the garden and garage and just easier.  But.  When the sunroom was added on to the house, the previous owners never installed a cement patio, sidewalk, or even proper steps.  The steps to get up to the sliding-glass door are nothing more than stacked cinder blocks.  This is a project on our long-term TO DO List that just hasn't had priority due to time and the intimidation factor.

However . . . as the years pass, things are getting dirtier and dirtier.  Where there used to be grass, we now have a growing DIRT PATCH with a 1-2 foot radius at our back entry.  It is ugly.  But worse, it is filthy.  We are tracking dirt and pebbles into our sunroom entry like you wouldn't believe.  It looks like a dirty sandbox after 1-2 days.  Very disheartening. 

I never contemplated cement landings at the bottom of stairs.  They were always just there in the city and suburbs.  (And I'm sure in many-to-most rural settings as well, but not at our house.)  But now I understand their purpose: the grass and ground will wear away with that much traffic.  Duh!  I'm so sthmart.

Which brings me to something else I've turned my nose up in the past.  Dirty carpet at the bottom of steps.  Revolting.  But folks are just trying to keep their houses a little cleaner, right?  Yes.  And while I know our temporary solution will not involve dirty interior carpet attempting to stave off the inevitable, I finally understand why it was there.  It makes sense to me.

I'm still learning.  Always.

Schtinks

Peering in at our new chicks this past weekend

The communication is pouring out of little Jamie.  I'm always amazed to see the wheels turning in his little head (though I suppose I shouldn't be).  It's adorable.  He generally doesn't say things when we ask him to, but they crop up on their own easily enough.

The past few days it has been names.  A first, aside from "Dada" and "Mama".  He will walk through the house looking for me, hollering, "Mama-mama-mama-mama!" on repeat.  But this weekend, I heard him say "D-go" in the living room, mimicking me as I was calling his brudder back into the kitchen.  And yesterday Squeeze walked into the living room right after we had been skyping with my sister . . . Jamie pointed at the computer and said "Dayna".  Just like that.

This weekend, it was just Jamie and me at the grocery store; he heard the intercom and signed "phone" to me.  (It was the sweetest thing.)  He also signed "phone" as we were ringing my sister on skype, now that I think about it.  And last night at bedtime, he was signing "milk" and "snuggle" in between the hollering screams and chest-pounding.  My chest, of course.  Heh.

More spring garden notes

This weekend we planted:

• Onions
• Scallions
• Leeks

Squeeze did all the leeks, I did all the scallions, and we split the onions 60 (him) / 40 (me).

The weather has been very chill for the last couple of weeks, often down to the low-mid 30's F at night.  We've lost a couple of early iris blooms because of the cold, as well as the new-growing asparagus spears we hadn't picked yet.  But good news: the asparagus is sending up new shoots again and the celery didn't die (we were afraid it might languish into an oblivion).

Sprouting beautifully in the garden are:

• Peas
• Lettuce, radishes
• Spinach
• Broccoli
• Kale, collards, chard
• Dill, chamomile (both reseeded from last year)

We enjoyed our first lettuce salad of the season this past Saturday night.  All four of us wolfed down with olive oil and balsamic vinegar.  With scallion-laced scrambled eggs and basmati rice with a peanut/curry sauce, it was heavenly.  We can hardly wait for the next harvest!  Oh, it will be grand.  Garden lettuce!  There is no comparison.  And we did get a chance for one scrumptious side of buttered asparagus before the cold spell put an end to that.

Squeeze also harvested catnip and nettles this past weekend, which we dried for our 2012 tea supply.

Previous Spring 2012 garden notes.

United we stood

This past weekend, Squeeze and I got involved in a dispute over bath towels.  It was a classic tussle over pet peeves, with arguments dissected into a million little pieces - a disagreement that would have sent us into a tail-spin for days at one point in time.

But instead of fighting tooth and claw over the aggravating minutiae of how we didn't agree, we ended it with a good chuckle and a kiss.  We still didn't agree, but the storm blew over and left us on the same team.  We even laughed over our different angles on the issue and all the same, old hang-ups.

Fifteen years of practice, patience, affection and further understanding has brought us to this point.  What a wonderful place to be.

I am . . .

• Researching homeschooling.  I've hammered out my philosophy and methodology (Charlotte Mason Method / Charlotte Mason), but now I am looking into the reality of putting that in motion . . . analyzing booklists, curriculum guides, others' experiences and brainstorming possibilities.
• Watching Jonsi's "Go Do" with the baby on my back while posting on my blog.  Now that is multi-tasking.  (Loving the bird motif.)  My brudder is EO.
• Prepping for a late Easter celebration with Squeeze's family on Sunday.
• Coddling my left pointer finger after a whack with a sharp chef's knife last week (it slipped on an onion).  Uff.  It didn't bleed much because I was so quick to put pressure on the cut, but I did FAINT 10-15 minutes later as I was attempting to look up stitches in a reference book.  Thankfully Squeeze was in the room and caught me as I tipped backwards.  Un-un-un-un.  He dragged me into the living room and laid me on my back.  Everything I had been thinking about that day was swirling around in front of my eyes like a funnel until I surfaced, which felt like waking up out of a deep sleep.  I heard Squeeze telling the curious boys, "Mama fainted" as I was coming to.  It was the strangest thing.  My finger hurt much less after I fainted.  Odd.  And Schtinky was trying to lay on my head as I lay there. :P
• Cycling again.  After 15 months of respite (and actually, 24 months including pregnancy), I have to start thinking about charting again.  Bah.  Though I do know how lucky I am....
• Busy.  I can't believe how busy I am.  Hardly a moment for contemplative thought, let alone any extras.
• Happy.

Jamie

Lil' Schtinky is 15 months now.  I actually had to stare at the calendar and use my fingers to figure that one out.  It is just amazing how things change.  I know I knew Diego's exact age with each passing week and month (and possibly even Truen's), but with Jamie?  I just round up or down. 

"He turned one at the beginning of January," was my reply when people asked how old he was while we were at my parents' house.  Geesh.  There is just too much going on to be able to keep track.

A few things about Jamie --

• He has 11 teeth: 4 on top, 3 on bottom, and 4 molars
• New words include "mama", "dah-dao" (all done), "bel-bo" (belly button), "tinky" (you guessed it . . . Stinky), "uh-oh", and "der deh dis!" (there it is).
• He also said "brother" on the flight to Seattle but I haven't been able to get it out of him since.
• He signs "milk", "more", "all done", "food", "sharp", and "hot".  We are working on "please" and "help".
• He was absolutely CRAZY about my mom's horse and my parents' dog when we were home . . . it was all excited arm-flapping and squeals when he saw them for the first time.  He followed Joey (the dog) around and would get down on his hands-and-knees and laugh when he got close enough.
• He called the horse "ba-ba", or something like that.  Isn't that terrible that I can't remember?!
• His climbing obsession seems to have diminished somewhat.  He still climbs, but it isn't with the force it once was.  Thank goodness.
• His new-found interest is terrorizing his brudders.  Not that he's trying.  He just wants to do everything they are doing.  He want to be right there, right in that exact spot, and will rip toys out of their very hands.  There has been a lot of screaming and biting going on.
• Since we've been back from Western WA, he has been sleeping late in the morning, taking an afternoon nap (mostly) in conjunction with his brudder(s), and going to bed with all of us at night.  It has been nice . . . before we left he was getting up and going to bed earlier and was unable to make it to the afternoon nap, which usually resulted in a quick cat-nap around noon.  I either kept him in the backpack to ensure it was a short one, or would wake him up with his favorite home video (him dancing to Vivaldi) after 10-15 minutes.  Just enough to refresh him.  I will do anything for a simultaneous napping session!
• Jamie loves his daddy as much as his udder-brudders.  He lights up and runs to the back door with the rest of the crew if/when he knows Squeeze is home.  He wants to be held and will sidle in for squeezes and snuggles.  It is just the sweetest thing.
• He is still a total terror at meal-times.  We try to keep him as busy as possible.  The latest tactic is putting his food in a little egg-cup and with the a matching spoon, but after a few days he is losing interest.  I can't wait to enjoy my food again.
• He usually only says, "mama" if he is running after me, tired or hurt or needing me, and it sounds like this, "mamamamamamamama!"  Squeeze gets the happy, smiley "dada!".
• Some of my favorite moments with him are when he is sleepy or in need of cuddling . . . I hold him in my arms in front of me and he'll lay his head on my shoulder and it feels like we are puzzle pieces tightly fit together.  It feels so good and he smells so sweet.
• I have recently realized that I have worked the mournful feelings of the end of Jamie's baby year out of my system.  I was really sad about it for awhile.  The baby year is just so special (and tiring, let us not forget).  And now that that sadness has passed, I have re-realized how much I enjoy this age.  I LOVE the second year.  I love that they are still babies, but more independent.  Learning, laughing, toddling.  The regular mom-checks.  It is such a fun age.  I am really enjoying it.
• Schtinky is OBSESSED with his belly button and has been for well over a month now.  He walks around for most of the day with his finger in his belly button.  He keeps his finger in mine while nursing.  We regular talk about and examine his, mine, and Squeeze's belly buttons.  My poor belly button was red and sore in the middle of March from being poked and scratched at so much.  He finds it in the night while nursing.  He calls it a "bel-bo" (as opposed to Diego's "bel-buh").
• I wonder if my belly button will be to Jamie as my neck is to Diego and my armpits are to Truen...?  Then they will all have their special nook or cranny of my body.
• He definitely looks more like my side of the family.  My mom said she was reminded of me at this age while we were home.
• He has the lightest hair-coloring of the boys, with blonde highlights in the sun.
• He says, "Uh-oh!" when he drops something.
• He will nod his head "yes" to any question asked of him.
• He went through a little obsession with kissing and would start smacking his lips with a little "mpha-mpha" noise when he started thinking about it.  Then he would kiss everyone in sight.  Adorable.  A couple of times I would start hearing the "mpha-mpha-mpha" coming from behind me while he was in the backpack and I would turn my head to receive a smooch smack! on the lips.  He would stand up and grab my face if I didn't get at it quick enough.
• His run is like a hopping-bounce, but he does get places faster.  And it is usually in conjunction with a big smile lighting up his face. ♥
• The little fella.  How I love him!

Spring garden notes

We are a full month and a week ahead of last year and with hindsight we are realizing that we could have planted the cool-growing varieties several weeks ago.  This weekend it was in the 80's F.  Very weird for the end of March/beginning of April in the Midwest.  Very weird.  With last year's lengthy fall, the almost-snowless winter and now an early spring, it feels like we have barely had a break from the garden this year.

This weekend we planted:

• Spinach
• Kale
• Chard
• Celery
• Lettuce & Radishes
• Peas

Outside hardening off but still in flats are the alliums: onions, scallions, leeks.  Still in flats inside, in sunny windows and/or under lights on heating-mats, are some of the heat-loving varieties: tomatoes, peppers, misc. herbs, eggplant.  And now that I think of it . . . cabbage.  Maybe broccoli too?  Squeeze is in charge of logistics and I just got home, so I am a little out of touch.

We are still in the process of adjusting to being home.  Things are going so nicely compared to last year, for which I am thankful and making a point to consciously remember and feel grateful for.  It has been total cake compared to all the sickness of last spring.  The adjustment is mostly just sleeping times (wake, nap, bed-time) that are a little off.  But we are slowly transitioning.

I still have the feel of a refreshed perspective on life and I can tell that Squeeze does too.  It feels very good together again.

Home again / Home again / Jiggety-jog

Here we are, at home again, again.  And I didn't miss any flights, hallelujah.

I will never forget the spring of 2011 arriving at the gate in Seattle just as the door was closing, pushing a loaded stroller, the baby hanging in the sling in front of me while literally dragging the wailing 3 year old, the 5 year old trotting alongside of us holding on to the stroller.  Why Truen wasn't in the stroller I'll never know (or remember).

Or, same flight, at the layover of my re-directed route to Salt Lake City, feeling like an earthquake survivor, yellow baby poo smeared all over my pants (mid-flight poop blow-out), grappling with the aftershock of missing the last three of our four flights and realizing that something in my plan of attack needed some major adjustment.  Yeah.  It was lovely.

But this time my dad accompanied us to the gate with a pass from "special services".  I was jittery while waiting in line the brief few minutes it took to get to the counter for the pass.  And though we wouldn't have been late to the gate anyway, it definitely allowed for a more leisurely walk and an extended good-bye.  I was so grateful for my dad's presence. (Note to self: do this every time.) 

I even got to go to the bathroom all by myself, a rare-known treat these days, to which my dad so hilariously quipped, "I'm a big girl now!" when I told him how surreal it felt as I washed my hands and walked out of the bathroom door completely unharrassed.  Oh my . . . it makes me chuckle even now.

Squeeze met us with lots of hugs and happiness at the airport for our 10:50 PM arrival.  We got home somewhere between midnight and 1:00 AM and finally simmered down enough for bed-time around 1:45 AM (though that would have been 11:45 PM to our bodies, which had adjusted to Pacific time).  The boys ran around, reacquainting themselves with the house and exclaiming how different it looked and how good it felt to be home.

And, LOL, the next day Diego even protested the need for a nap, saying, "but there are so many adventures to have at home now that we are back at our house!"  But let the record state: he was sawing logs within minutes of laying down.  We were zonked.

It feels good to be home (MN).  Being home (WA) was such a good break in the action for me.  Re-connecting with roots.  Soaking up the green.  Leisurely visiting with family.  The pleasure of seeing my boys know and love their grandparents and aunts and uncles.  Experiencing respite from the "usual grind" and the ensuing feeling of a refreshed perspective on life . . .  yes . . . it has been good.

Much love to all.

<< Memory Transport >>

We're still at my parents' house, savoring every moment . . .

At home I usually use either Dr. Bronner's Sal Suds or OxyClean to remove stains from clothing.  Sal Suds is particularly effective on grease stains and will remove the problem even after going through the dryer, while OxyClean removes almost any grime with a long, hot soak.  I'm sure you all have hammered out your own methods.

So the other day when I needed to attack some greasy-grimy clothing, I pulled out my mom's weapon of choice: Spray n' Wash, and was instantly transported to the free-wheelin' feelin' of the exhilaration and excitement of being home for Christmas break during college. 

I thought about it more and realized that my parents still had a houseful of kids at that time and two grimy teenage boys who were full-bore in their glory years of wrestling and puberty.  The washer/dryer set-up at my parents' house back then was in the back entry, entirely open to the rest of the floor and the downstairs had a permeating scent of Spray n' Wash.  And no wonder.

Amazing how a scent can conjure such memory and emotion. Freedom. Enthusiasm. Discovery. Missing my main squeeze, but enjoying the drama of it all. Spending time with immediate and extended family. Seeing old friends. Thoughtful daybook entries. Watching my sibs play Legend of Zelda on the Nintendo64. Slow days. Inspiration. Cloudy skies. Endless free-time. Showering whenever I wanted to. Sleeping in. Freedom.

Ahhhhhh, it was grand.

Home again / Home again / Jiggety-jig

We are back at my parents' house in Western WA and I didn't even miss my flight to get here.  We flew out of Sioux Falls, where we walked outside and climbed a rolling stairway to get onto the plane.

So far we've stayed home a lot, and have seen a couple of aunts and a grandma, a brother, a sister, and a SIL.  The boy-ohs amassed a large collection of pet bugs stored in plastic containers within the first couple of days.  They have spent a good chunk of time in the misty, moisty mornings, when cloudy was the weather, outside.  Truen has his very own spotted pet slug and Diego has the tiniest little brown salamander that he found in the crook of a rotting log, about the half the size of my pinky finger. 

The grass is green, the trees are budding, crocus and daffodils are up, and the birds are twittering.  Spring . . . the most beautiful of seasons here in the Pacific Northwest.  Ahhhhhh . . . I am soaking it in.  Though Squeeze did report that it was in the mid-60s F at home yesterday.  Yow!  Talk about unseasonably warm.

My parents heat with wood, so the house is toasty warm and the boys are running around in their undies for most of the day.  They do that at home too, but here they have a valid excuse.  It is haaaaaaht.  I'm in a t-shirt and little pants vs. the woolens I usually cavort around in at home in the winter.

I am enjoying the relative leisure of being here, my main job being to keep these wild things tame.  I'm cooking and cleaning as well, but it has a different, less suffocating feel to it.  And there is so much less of a toy mess to wrangle.  A nice reprieve.  And.  And!  I should say.  I'm trying to relax and enjoy my boy-ohs.  Play.  Read.  Snuggle.  I do all these at home too, but I feel less pressured to finish and start on some other task here.  It feels good.

My dad is reading Prince Caspian aloud to us, which brings a menagerie of memories and atmosphere back for me.  Diego is transfixed, Truen listens while he plays, and I try to keep the baby under wraps while sitting and listening, which involves a lot of belly-bouncing and lazy nursing.

So here we are.  Home.  It feels so good to be a daughter again, re-connecting with my roots.

Love to all.

A word to the wise

Don't try to teach your baby brudder not to bite by sticking your finger into his mouth and saying, "No biting . . . no biting . . . owww!  No biting!"  It doesn't work.

Meanwhile . . .

The brudders last week before nap/quiet time

Totally unposed: this is how I found them.

Afterthoughts

While nursing the baby at 6:30 AM this morning, I realized . . . oh yes, that's right . . . Diego grew out of his shoes this winter as well.  I usually thrift a pair of "the next size up" for the cooler season each year, but this month he started complaining that they were pinching his toes.

Then, at breakfast this morning I realized another recent development: his Scooby-doo undies are too small.  The ones that were almost too big for him last winter.  Just this week he went back and back and back to his underwear drawer until he could find a pair that fit.  Everything else squeezed him.

So it wasn't just the pants.  I'm so sthmart.  Gee willikers.

Growth spurt

Amazing.  Within the last few weeks, Diego has somehow outgrown his size 6 pants and now wears a size 7.  He's been complaining about being squeezed and I finally got wise and pulled out our size 7 stash and three of the five pairs fit perfectly. 

How does that happen??  Though I have thought he looks so much taller and just bigger recently, eyeing him up and wondering how he was ever such a little guy like his baby brudder.  So close, so far away...

The Brudders

....and this picture is already almost two weeks old.  We made an extremely quick trip to the Twin Cities the weekend before last to see Squeeze's grandparents in Wisconsin and enjoy a leisurely visit to Como Park.  'Twas lovely, but too short (ultimately probably approx. 24 hours minus driving time).

Change can be such a good thing

It's amazing.  I wonder if I will ever have the ability to truly appreciate where I'm at in life.  I feel like I spend so much of my time feeling the burn.  The intensity of mothering young children. 

I yearn for down-time, feeling jealous of others who have the time and ability for quiet reflection or pursuit of interests.  I feel like a some kind of emergency director, barking out orders constantly: "Yes", "No", "Please stop!", "Tell me why I am asking you to stop X, Y, Z", or "Pick that up and put it where you know it goes, please", or "That's fine, but you're going to need to clean that up as soon as you are done with it", or "Please leave your brother alone" or "Stop!" or "Green chair, red couch" (my version of "time out", the proverbial "re-set button") and so on and so forth.  The endless minutiae.

Where's Shawna?  Where am I...?  Sometimes I get tired of being "the mother" all the time...

And then . . . my little cherubs.  Those sweet little boys, who love us so much.  They can't help that they are unbelievably energetic, excited little things who love to be with us constantly, want to tell us everything, make messes wherever they go, and have the burning desire to explore and discover everything around them.  God bless their dear hearts.  I hope I am good enough for them.

* * * * *

That being said, I went through a bit of a crisis this past December.  After the ferocity of the garden harvest and food preservation, houseguests, travel, and a newly mobile baby (literally . . . just 10 months old at the time), I was whooped.  My homelife felt like it was spiraling totally out of control.  (Take this with a grain of salt . . . this is a. borealis speaking here . . . I tend towards the grand and overdramatic.)  Things needed to change.

I reflected on the problem and rested.  I brainstormed.  I checked in with friends.  I grounded our little tushies and tried to stay home as much as humanly possible (that in itself helped a lot).  I spent a lot of time re-working things in my head.  Over a period of weeks and months, I feel like I've finally worked into a very effective rhythm.  I feel happier and more connected with my little guys.  It is such a relief.

What did I change?  We stay home more.  I started doing a weekly menu outline.  I assessed my goals for each day and week, then incorporated them into a revised (AKA "new and improved!") daily routine.  On my daily To Do List, I incorporate both necessities, i.e. "clean the bathroom" or "vacuum sunroom/bedroom", and desires, i.e. "Memory with the boys" or "read aloud" or "post on blog".  Having a more structured routine also helps me know how to direct the flow of traffic without being sucked into the bog of "I've got to do it now!", which usually results in the boys running wild and general daily timeframes spiraling beyond my control.

I've also started seriously incorporating the boys in clean-up, more than ever before.  Sure, they put their dishes in the dishwasher.  With my assistance, they pick up around the play table on a semi-regular basis.  They pick up the "storage toys" as soon as they are done with them, things like Tinker Toys, Magnetix, or playdough.  They put their paper and crayons and scissors away when they are done with them.  All under my direction, of course.

But what I have changed is adding them to the responsibility of keeping the entire house picked up and clean.  I can't take the toy-strewn mess anymore.  The sandbox-like kitchen floor.  The rubbish-flecked carpets.  Junk everywhere.  I can't. take. it.  Now I have them come with me from room to room, picking things up and putting them away under my direction.  I have the baby in the backpack, assisting them, then vacuum.  We do this on an almost-daily basis.  I don't have to do it alone anymore.  Alone, or not at all.

I also posted my New and Improved! routine in clear view to help keep me on track.

The Daily Flow

• 8:00-ish AM: Breakfast, Clean-up/Cod liver oil, Get dressed
• 9:00-ish AM: Free Play (them), Clean/Catch-up (me) . . . depending on the day/level of focus, include them in on the work
• 11:00-ish AM: Table Time OR Directed Play OR Clean/Tidy together
• 1:00-ish PM: Lunch, Audiobook, Clean-up
• 2:00-ish PM: Free Play, Read Books
• 3:00-ish PM: Nap/Quiet Time
• 4:00-ish PM: Game Time w/ Diego
• 5:00-ish PM: Dinner Prep (me), Quiet Play (them) i.e. playdough, Magnetix, Leapster

"Table Time" is the term I coined for work we do together at the table, anything from coloring and drawing to letter-writing and misc. crafts.  Everything is more exciting with a name for the little guys and helpful in the fact that they know what to expect when I say, "It's table time".  I've also noticed that it is easier for me to remember my goals/intentions when it has a snappy little name . . . not that "Table Time" is replete with bells and whistles.

I finally feel like I have a grip on life: able to manhandle my living quarters into submission, I feel happier and more connected with my children.  I even get a little bit of a break in the afternoon on most days. 

It feels so good.

AWOL

I've been tending to a cranky, sometimes-feverish baby teething molars.  Poor Schtinky.  He spent more than one night blazing heat like a little furnace and whimpering like a wounded puppy.  Last night was the first normal night of sleep since Thursday of last week.  He slept solidly from 8:30 PM to 8:30 AM.  The poor little guy . . . he hasn't been able to even nap normally. 

He's been rather a pest as well, either cranky and clingy, or climbing on Mount St. Something (the back of the potty seat to get at pretty little rocks on the window sill -!!!-, the perfectly-positioned toy vacuum for an extra boost to get up on play table, the toy box, the side of the tub, etc.), or trying to sidle in and destroy whatever project his brudders are working on.  He's been in the sling, the backpack, or my arms for most of the last week.

My poor breasts have been on a roller coaster ride as well, if you can believe it.  He abdicated food on last Friday, which is fine . . . he still gets most of his nourishment from nursing anyway.  But then, all of a sudden on Monday, he didn't nurse as much (or start eating for that matter) and that resulted in some, errrr . . . issues.  Think poor, sore rocks.  That lead to plugged ducts on my left breast, which must be a weakness for me at this point in time, because I just dealt with the same thing in the same spot a couple of weeks ago.

So I started to self-treat with warm compresses (hot salt in a pillow case) on the go, holding it in place with my hand or pinning it with my left arm.  That didn't seem to resolve the issue by itself (it did last time), so I started taking Vitamin C and echinacea yesterday afternoon.  The plugged ducts spanned about 6 inches, from the left side all the way around the top (the most I've ever dealt with at one time); very tender to the touch. 

By bedtime last night, nothing had changed after more than 24 hours of treatment and I started wondering if I was going to need to get radical; but I was so pleased to note at this morning's 4:00 AM nursing session that the swelling and tenderness had totally cleared.  Yesssssss.  Thank goodness.  Now I can get on with life.

All that is left of our issues now seems to be phlegm in the baby's lungs.  It is the strangest thing.  He hasn't been sick, nor has anyone else.  We haven't been anywhere in over week.  I can only conclude that must be somehow connected with the teething.  Strange.

Listy-list, full of woe and whoa

• Today was a "Now what??" kind of day.  The type that while addressing one mess/issue/blow-out, another one crops up instantaneously.  Back-to-back-to-back.  Like, what time is it? . . . because what did I just do all day??  Disheartening.
• Jamie's list of words include: Uh-oh, Dada, Hot, Sharp ("ahhwp"), and the names of two of our cats: Toots (sounds like "T-ts"), Kizzle (sounds like "K-zl")
• He is climbing on everything.  Ev.ery.thing.  Everything.  There have been a number of times the past few days that I've had to confine him to the backpack because I'm just not able to hover over him for hours on end.
• He has also started biting in retaliation to being pushed over the edge of reason with his brudders.  I don't blame him, because sometimes they just don't quit.  When we hear the screaming and see the little head wiggling back and forth, we know he's going in for the kill.
• I had to have my picture taken yesterday for a new passport card.  Talk about a blow to my vanity.  Oy.  I just have to remember . . . I don't look like a pale spotty floating head . . . I don't look like a pale spotty floating head . . . I don't look like a pale spotty floating head.  Not usually, at least.  I hope.  Uff.
• I was gone all yesterday taking care of a variety of business and today it was as if our house blew up, i.e. I wasn't home to manhandle life into submission.  We were all starving and there was crap strewn everywhere.  It really is best to stay home as much as humanly possible.
• Truen has taken to hiding food around the kitchen if/when he doesn't want to eat it.  I've been wondering for the last couple of weeks why hunks of chomped-on cheese or scrambled eggs were lying under the table legs.  So oddly, as if placed there.  Of course it was because they were placed there.  Now that he knows I'm on to him, he tried hiding a chunk of scrambled egg behind a cabinet this morning.  Yeah. right.  Like that is going to fly.

In in the midst of all this, Diego just created a surprise tea party for the two of us (his brudders are sleeping) and before that, he was enthusiastically cleaning the algae from his goldfish's mini-aquarium and giving them "special food".  Bless his precious heart.  (Though I cringe at the water-mess that must surely have slopped all over...)

Now . . . to the tea party. ♥

Snapshot

Diego lost his second tooth today.  Lower-right.  He abides by the "no pull" policy and so it had been hanging on by a hair's-width for the past week or so.  It came out as he was pushing it with his tongue while listening to our audiobook right after lunch.  (Wolf tales from 'round the world.)  He was so good-naturedly pleased about it.  What a fella. ♥

Truen took care of his many babies with tender loving care this week.  Lamby, Baby Lamby, and the little pink pig whose name I've forgotten.  Baby Lamby is one of those stuffed animal/blankie combo doodies.  He devotedly (and delightedly) changed her diaper for two days straight, even bringing it to the library to show our friend Alice.  Changing the diaper consisted of folding each side in, then folding the bottom to the top.  "I'm changing Baby Lamby's diaper!" he said every. single. time. and would then tenderly pick her up and hold her to his chest.  It was enough to make any mama's heart melt.

Schtinky AKA Jamie is climbing on anything and everything.  The places I've found him!  Enough to make any mama's eyes bulge.  The tea party table, the couch, the living room loveseat, the sunroom loveseat, the bedside table, little chairs, the chest we are using as a barricade from the plant-filled bay window, and the worst, climbing up an extra tall stool (the spare we keep for guests) and onto the top of the antique drop-front desk we keep in the kitchen.  Taller than the table!  Yes, it is as bad as it sounds.  I was in the living room and heard rumpstering but had no idea of the danger until I walked into the room.  The stool is usually against the wall with its little steps stored away, but someone had gotten it out (very unusual) and left it out (not very unusual).  He looked so proud, too, with his little 6-toothed grin.  UGH.

Grilled cheese anything

I've been on a loveboat with grilled cheese since last summer.  Grilled cheese with sliced red onions, melty and sweet.   Tuna melts w/ cheddar cheese and sliced red onions.  Sliced. red. onions.  Meh tum's a'rumblin'. 

I amped up the arsenal a bit this weekend.  Chicken melts.  I had plenty of chicken left over from stock-making, something I usually use to make meaty quesadillas or boring cold sandwiches with cheese and mustard and jam.  But we didn't have any corn tortillas and I wanted something warm, so as I stared at the refrigerator in contemplation, I wondered, "Why not a chicken melt...?"

So chicken melts it was.  With sliced red onions.  And sweet "refrigerator" pickles on the side. Yo. Delicious.

I've also honed in on the secret to the perfect melt.  Make sure that most of the cheese goes on first, then the meat and onions, then a few more slices of cheese.  The meat won't flop out as you flip it, the cheese won't get too hot and glop out the sides, and the onions will be sweet and soft.  De-wish-shuss.

An excellent introduction

I always had a "whole foods gut instinct" in my youth.  While it may have not added up to much more than instinct, I knew that anything labeled "low-fat" didn't taste good and furthermore, it probably wasn't good for you anyway. I cut out red meat, not because I didn't like the taste, but because I was afraid of it with the Mad Cow scare or getting sick if I didn't cook it long enough. It was frightening. And bewildering.

Then I started reading about Real Food. My knowledge expanded and I started reading about industrial agriculture and the idea of locally-sourced foods.  That is when I stumbled across the philosophy of eating that gave shape and form to my previously nebulous "whole foods gut instinct".

The answer? Traditional Foods. The cookbook Nourishing Traditions* is what kicked it off. I joined Traditional Foods yahoo groups. I was introduced to the Weston A. Price Foundation.

Through all this, I realized that I could eat grass-fed meat and wouldn't face the dangers of conventionally raised agri-biz beef (and that the animals would live and die humanely). I found a source for raw milk and started experimenting with the wide variety of options it affords, from the many uses for sour milk to butter-making (and the near-distant voyage into cheese-making). I finally understood why I was always so desperately hungry after boxed cereal for breakfast.  I realized that amping up a meal with quality fats left me satiated.  I reveled in butter-slathered vegetables.  I started fermenting.

Then I cleared my then three year old's dry, red cheeks with a daily dose of cod liver oil. I transformed my then four year old's poop, which had always been akin to "frothy slop" into "well-formed stool" by limiting (not eliminating) grains and upping fermented foods. I healed my own cavity (the first ever, btw) by taking butter oil and fermented cod liver oil, limiting grains and natural sugars, upping vegetables and fats, and eating grass-fed meat. These are all things I always meant to blog about but never did, mostly due to the simple march of time (whoopsies, sorry . . . because they are truly amazing stories).

As a philosophy of eating, the idea of Traditional Foods -- AKA eating as our ancestors ate, AKA if your great-grandma wouldn't recognize it as food, don't eat it -- well, it has been a major revelation in my life. And so, dear reader: I offer up this beautiful 20-minute introduction to Traditional Foods through the research of Weston A. Price. If you have time, please watch it. You may find it very interesting.




*Interestingly, I don't care for a good chunk of the recipes this cookbook offers. I generally find them to be either overly bland or too heavy. But the principles and dietary information? Pure gold. And some of the recipes are very good.