I like a put-together house. For me, one of the best things about being a SAHM is being able to be home to care for our haven. (If you think that it's easy to keep a clean house with a baby, you're wrong. And my baby doesn't take normal naps. I'm just thankful that he's starting to let me do housework while he's awake!)
I'm pretty good at it, though. If I know I'm having company, or if my husband is coming home from a business trip, I can prioritize well enough to get my house looking presentable.
But I'm certainly not going to pretend that I couldn't use some improvement. I heard about this 31-day challenge from my friends at Candle in the Night and The Modest Mom (this link goes straight to a good description of the book), and I'm excited to get started. The challenge is being issued by Sarah Mae, who wrote the e-book 31 Days to Clean.
I especially like the subtitle of the book, "Having a Martha House the Mary Way." If you're familiar with the story of the sisters of Lazarus, you know that Mary was content to sit at Jesus' feet and be blessed by Him, while Martha busied herself around the house, preparing meals and keeping the house clean for Jesus and His disciples. I grudgingly admit that I've always known I was a Martha. I enjoy it! But I know I need to incorporate more Mary into my life.
So... the challenge starts on May 1. And TODAY ONLY, you can get a FREE copy of the book just by blogging it, tweeting it, or sharing about it on Facebook! Click here for details.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Sunday, April 24, 2011
alot of yarn
Anyone who has known me for any length of time knows how I feel about the use of improper grammar in formal writing. I HATE IT, PEOPLE. One thing that drives me crazy is the level of tolerance for grammar that used to be considered incorrect but has now become acceptable. Grrrrrrrr. Subconscious/unconscious. All right/alright. A lot/alot. When my friend shared this article with me, it totally hit home. And made me laugh, Alot.
So I don't know how it happened, but somehow I ended up discussing, with this same friend, the possibility of a knitted Alot for my baby. She knits super-cool stuff... like a squid. Various kiddie foods (you know how some kids have plastic eggs & toast? her niece has a bag of knitted pizza, bacon, donuts, pretzels...). And sushi. No, really. Ah! Here, I'm not making it up:
So when she offered to knit an Alot (or I challenged her? I can't remember now), I was pretty excited. I've been looking forward to the Alot of Yarn for months now.
And this week, it arrived! I cannot express how thrilled I was -- but these pictures should tell you how Eric felt about it.
(Yes, my son is in a box. I picked up his baby monitor the same day the Alot arrived, and the monitor had been shipped site-to-store in this box. Husband said, "That looks like he'd fit perfectly in it!" And so he did. No, I don't usually put my baby in a box.)
Thanks, Aunt Liz. This Alot ROCKS.
So I don't know how it happened, but somehow I ended up discussing, with this same friend, the possibility of a knitted Alot for my baby. She knits super-cool stuff... like a squid. Various kiddie foods (you know how some kids have plastic eggs & toast? her niece has a bag of knitted pizza, bacon, donuts, pretzels...). And sushi. No, really. Ah! Here, I'm not making it up:
So when she offered to knit an Alot (or I challenged her? I can't remember now), I was pretty excited. I've been looking forward to the Alot of Yarn for months now.
And this week, it arrived! I cannot express how thrilled I was -- but these pictures should tell you how Eric felt about it.
(Yes, my son is in a box. I picked up his baby monitor the same day the Alot arrived, and the monitor had been shipped site-to-store in this box. Husband said, "That looks like he'd fit perfectly in it!" And so he did. No, I don't usually put my baby in a box.)
Thanks, Aunt Liz. This Alot ROCKS.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
saturday's chasm
Yesterday, there were a lot of Facebook posts regarding Good Friday. I like that. I'm glad that my friends took the time to think about His sacrifice, even if just for a moment. I know that even something as monumental as Holy Week can get lost in the shuffle of everyday life.
I'm guilty of that, this year more than most. Ever since I married a Catholic, Holy Week has come to mean much more to me, simply because the Catholics take the time to formally commemorate the events of our salvation. This year, though, since I have a baby whose newly established sleep schedule needs to stay sacred, I have kissed my husband goodbye as he's run out the door for Holy Thursday and Good Friday services. I've felt oddly lonely -- not because my husband is gone, but because I'm missing out on these times of remembrance that have become so important to my celebration of the Resurrection. I look forward to next year when I can go back to participating.
That's not what this is about, though. I was thinking about Good Friday and how we take that day to remember the death of our Savior. And then, on Resurrection Sunday, we joy in His triumph over death. But what about Saturday?
Thinking back to that Saturday two thousand years ago, I ponder what it must have meant to those who loved Him. If they slept at all, they must have awakened to find themselves wishing the events of the previous day had been only the worst nightmare. This must have felt like the darkest, longest, emptiest day of their lives. As I drove around town today, I tried to imagine how I might be feeling if my best friend had just been brutally murdered yesterday.
And He was more than a friend to them. He was to them what He should be to me. Jesus' disciples had given up everything to follow -- literally follow -- Him. We rarely see that level of devotion today. They loved Him so much. He was their world.
And in this darkest hour of Saturday, whatever they had professed to believe about Him, we know that they seemed to have forgotten His promise to rise again. Who could blame them? Human as they were, it must have seemed so impossible after watching Him appear so helpless through the torture and shame along the Via Dolorosa. And to have heard the agony in His voice as He cried out to the Father, feeling forsaken... they must have felt some of that sense of abandonment, too.
It is so easy to forget His promises, and my life is a constant testament to that fact. But today, on this Holy Saturday in 2011, I know what tomorrow brings.
My Lord, what love is this that pays so dearly
That I -- the guilty one! -- may go free?
Amazing Love, oh what sacrifice,
The Son of God given for me!
My debt He pays, and my death He dies --
That I might live!
I'm guilty of that, this year more than most. Ever since I married a Catholic, Holy Week has come to mean much more to me, simply because the Catholics take the time to formally commemorate the events of our salvation. This year, though, since I have a baby whose newly established sleep schedule needs to stay sacred, I have kissed my husband goodbye as he's run out the door for Holy Thursday and Good Friday services. I've felt oddly lonely -- not because my husband is gone, but because I'm missing out on these times of remembrance that have become so important to my celebration of the Resurrection. I look forward to next year when I can go back to participating.
That's not what this is about, though. I was thinking about Good Friday and how we take that day to remember the death of our Savior. And then, on Resurrection Sunday, we joy in His triumph over death. But what about Saturday?
Thinking back to that Saturday two thousand years ago, I ponder what it must have meant to those who loved Him. If they slept at all, they must have awakened to find themselves wishing the events of the previous day had been only the worst nightmare. This must have felt like the darkest, longest, emptiest day of their lives. As I drove around town today, I tried to imagine how I might be feeling if my best friend had just been brutally murdered yesterday.
And He was more than a friend to them. He was to them what He should be to me. Jesus' disciples had given up everything to follow -- literally follow -- Him. We rarely see that level of devotion today. They loved Him so much. He was their world.
And in this darkest hour of Saturday, whatever they had professed to believe about Him, we know that they seemed to have forgotten His promise to rise again. Who could blame them? Human as they were, it must have seemed so impossible after watching Him appear so helpless through the torture and shame along the Via Dolorosa. And to have heard the agony in His voice as He cried out to the Father, feeling forsaken... they must have felt some of that sense of abandonment, too.
It is so easy to forget His promises, and my life is a constant testament to that fact. But today, on this Holy Saturday in 2011, I know what tomorrow brings.
My Lord, what love is this that pays so dearly
That I -- the guilty one! -- may go free?
Amazing Love, oh what sacrifice,
The Son of God given for me!
My debt He pays, and my death He dies --
That I might live!
Thursday, April 21, 2011
I put away the bassinet today*
Our master bedroom is now an infant sleep-free zone. I didn't want it to be that way. I would have been happy to sleep in the same room as my baby for a few more months. But sometimes, we learn, what's best for one is not best for all.
You may remember from this post that my household had four blissful nights of Getting Better that slowly deteriorated before collapsing again into utter madness -- up every two hours (if we were lucky), tiptoeing around our room so as not to wake the delicately sleeping baby, putting him down only to have him jolt awake as soon as he touched the bassinet.
And somewhere in those moments of desperation, watching my baby's face screw up as he started to cry, I started looking -- really looking -- at him. I could see in him the same emotion I felt: frustration. I struggle with post-partum insomnia -- no, not just the inability to sleep due to a demanding baby, but the inability to go to sleep even when I am not needed. Many nights, I would just be starting to drift off as Eric woke for his first night feeding (in other words, around 11:00 or midnight after going to bed at 9:00 or 10:00). It made me want to cry. Sometimes, it made me cry. And as I looked into my baby's eyes, I finally realized he was experiencing the same thing.
My baby, tired as he was, was unable to go to sleep, and it was extremely frustrating to him. What's more, every time we picked him up or rubbed his tummy in the bassinet, he was expecting that we would be able to help him. After all, that is our job as his parents. When we were unable to help him, he could not understand that. So, finally recognizing that we needed to help him conquer this frustration, and with my husband's week-long business trip looming on the horizon, we knew it was time to take drastic measures.
Thursday, March 24 (happy birthday, Grandma Diane!), I checked out Dr. Ferber's book from the library. I charged my husband with caring for the baby that afternoon/evening so I could devour the main points as quickly as possible and we could start that night. If you're completely unfamiliar with Ferber, my sister does a good rundown of his program here. He is NOT the "cry it out" guy; he is the "controlled cry" guy. In other words, we weren't going to toss Eric in his crib, shut the door, and leave him there until morning. For one thing, he was only 13 weeks old and not ready to sleep through the night. He would need to nurse at least once, likely twice, during the night. For another thing... well, we just couldn't handle that.
So we decided to take shifts that night. I was to take the first shift, until 2 a.m., which meant that, each time Eric woke and cried, I would set the timer and go in at the dictated increments to talk softly, touch his cheek, and reassure him that I still existed. I would nurse him at shift change, but not until then. (I'd started to notice that most of his nighttime feedings were hardly even feedings; they were just a time for him to suck himself back to sleep.)
We said a prayer, and Stuart headed to bed, armed with earplugs. I finished the bedtime routine with nursing, rocking, and singing -- but not to sleep. I put my baby into his crib, still awake but sleepy, and kissed him goodnight. I shut the door behind me and took a deep breath... and then I turned on the baby monitor and started doing chores. (Wow! You can get a LOT done if you don't have to sleep!!)
Eric was fine for 3 minutes and then started to cry. Being awake in his crib was very new to him! So I went in after 3 minutes, then after 5 minutes... then, 5 minutes after that, he was asleep for an hour.
This song and dance repeated only four times that night. The longest period of being awake and crying started at 12:15 and ended an hour later. I was getting pretty miserable that time -- but for the most part, I kept reminding myself that I was helping him to learn an important skill: the skill of falling asleep on his own... the skill of returning to sleep after waking. What would MY life be like if I were able to go to sleep/back to sleep every time I needed to? This would give Eric the power to end his frustration!
Eric got less than 7 hours of sleep that first night -- which, no doubt, contributed to the utter success of the second night. He barely cried at all from 8:00 straight through to the 3:00 a.m. nursing, and he had just one "reasurring check," near the end of the night.
The third night, he did not need to be "reassured" even once. We never even started a timer.
After that, there were some ups and downs. Naps were still ridiculously inconsistent. Are. They are still ridiculously inconsistent. This is our fault, though -- we started letting him have his pacifier for naps, and I was often out and about around his naptime, which led to him falling asleep in the car. And then he was sick for several days, which meant we did NOT let him cry and even let him sleep in our arms, just so he could get some healing rest. But, starting today (really, today -- 4/21/11) we're getting serious about nap training. We believe that, if we are consistent this time, it will go better.
But the nights -- the nights were glorious! Eric's bedtime routine started to mean something -- to him and to us. At 7:00 each night, we start with bathtime, which he has always loved. Then, if he's not too fussy from the torturous act of putting on the diaper, we read a book. I rub in his anti-eczema cream while we nurse, and then we put on PJs. I rock him in his room and sing a song or two. By 8:00 (working on getting that earlier; he's starting to show signs of needing the earlier bedtime now), he is in bed, still awake but with drooping eyelids -- and then, husband and I have dinner and a couple hours to be ... well, a married couple. We relax, watch TV, do some chores, and generally wind down -- sans needy baby.
In the night, Eric often lasts 5-6 hours before waking... but we don't make him go more than 4 hours if he wakes and is insistent. After all, he still has a tiny little tummy and needs to eat often! He gets up in the morning around 7:00 a.m., and now, because his mommy is getting enough rest, we are ALL happy in the mornings and can play together. No more forcing a smile out of the exhaustion just for my baby's sake. The smiles are real.
So, starting April 3, husband was in Colorado for a full week. With the exception of the first night (which came after an extremely busy day AND was the first night without daddy), Eric's nights were a dream.** We had an amazing week together, baby and me. I had my mom come over once, on the first day, to let me have a nap -- but otherwise, I didn't need help. When husband got home, the house was in great shape, I was fairly well-rested (I still don't sleep well when he's gone), and I'd even managed to eat three meals most days!
And when we got back from the airport, I showed off the nice, big, empty space in the master bedroom where the bassinet used to be.
*About 2 weeks ago... it's been very busy around here since I started this long post!
**Ouch. Sorry about that. Completely unintentional, I promise.
You may remember from this post that my household had four blissful nights of Getting Better that slowly deteriorated before collapsing again into utter madness -- up every two hours (if we were lucky), tiptoeing around our room so as not to wake the delicately sleeping baby, putting him down only to have him jolt awake as soon as he touched the bassinet.
And somewhere in those moments of desperation, watching my baby's face screw up as he started to cry, I started looking -- really looking -- at him. I could see in him the same emotion I felt: frustration. I struggle with post-partum insomnia -- no, not just the inability to sleep due to a demanding baby, but the inability to go to sleep even when I am not needed. Many nights, I would just be starting to drift off as Eric woke for his first night feeding (in other words, around 11:00 or midnight after going to bed at 9:00 or 10:00). It made me want to cry. Sometimes, it made me cry. And as I looked into my baby's eyes, I finally realized he was experiencing the same thing.
My baby, tired as he was, was unable to go to sleep, and it was extremely frustrating to him. What's more, every time we picked him up or rubbed his tummy in the bassinet, he was expecting that we would be able to help him. After all, that is our job as his parents. When we were unable to help him, he could not understand that. So, finally recognizing that we needed to help him conquer this frustration, and with my husband's week-long business trip looming on the horizon, we knew it was time to take drastic measures.
Thursday, March 24 (happy birthday, Grandma Diane!), I checked out Dr. Ferber's book from the library. I charged my husband with caring for the baby that afternoon/evening so I could devour the main points as quickly as possible and we could start that night. If you're completely unfamiliar with Ferber, my sister does a good rundown of his program here. He is NOT the "cry it out" guy; he is the "controlled cry" guy. In other words, we weren't going to toss Eric in his crib, shut the door, and leave him there until morning. For one thing, he was only 13 weeks old and not ready to sleep through the night. He would need to nurse at least once, likely twice, during the night. For another thing... well, we just couldn't handle that.
So we decided to take shifts that night. I was to take the first shift, until 2 a.m., which meant that, each time Eric woke and cried, I would set the timer and go in at the dictated increments to talk softly, touch his cheek, and reassure him that I still existed. I would nurse him at shift change, but not until then. (I'd started to notice that most of his nighttime feedings were hardly even feedings; they were just a time for him to suck himself back to sleep.)
We said a prayer, and Stuart headed to bed, armed with earplugs. I finished the bedtime routine with nursing, rocking, and singing -- but not to sleep. I put my baby into his crib, still awake but sleepy, and kissed him goodnight. I shut the door behind me and took a deep breath... and then I turned on the baby monitor and started doing chores. (Wow! You can get a LOT done if you don't have to sleep!!)
Eric was fine for 3 minutes and then started to cry. Being awake in his crib was very new to him! So I went in after 3 minutes, then after 5 minutes... then, 5 minutes after that, he was asleep for an hour.
This song and dance repeated only four times that night. The longest period of being awake and crying started at 12:15 and ended an hour later. I was getting pretty miserable that time -- but for the most part, I kept reminding myself that I was helping him to learn an important skill: the skill of falling asleep on his own... the skill of returning to sleep after waking. What would MY life be like if I were able to go to sleep/back to sleep every time I needed to? This would give Eric the power to end his frustration!
Eric got less than 7 hours of sleep that first night -- which, no doubt, contributed to the utter success of the second night. He barely cried at all from 8:00 straight through to the 3:00 a.m. nursing, and he had just one "reasurring check," near the end of the night.
The third night, he did not need to be "reassured" even once. We never even started a timer.
After that, there were some ups and downs. Naps were still ridiculously inconsistent. Are. They are still ridiculously inconsistent. This is our fault, though -- we started letting him have his pacifier for naps, and I was often out and about around his naptime, which led to him falling asleep in the car. And then he was sick for several days, which meant we did NOT let him cry and even let him sleep in our arms, just so he could get some healing rest. But, starting today (really, today -- 4/21/11) we're getting serious about nap training. We believe that, if we are consistent this time, it will go better.
But the nights -- the nights were glorious! Eric's bedtime routine started to mean something -- to him and to us. At 7:00 each night, we start with bathtime, which he has always loved. Then, if he's not too fussy from the torturous act of putting on the diaper, we read a book. I rub in his anti-eczema cream while we nurse, and then we put on PJs. I rock him in his room and sing a song or two. By 8:00 (working on getting that earlier; he's starting to show signs of needing the earlier bedtime now), he is in bed, still awake but with drooping eyelids -- and then, husband and I have dinner and a couple hours to be ... well, a married couple. We relax, watch TV, do some chores, and generally wind down -- sans needy baby.
In the night, Eric often lasts 5-6 hours before waking... but we don't make him go more than 4 hours if he wakes and is insistent. After all, he still has a tiny little tummy and needs to eat often! He gets up in the morning around 7:00 a.m., and now, because his mommy is getting enough rest, we are ALL happy in the mornings and can play together. No more forcing a smile out of the exhaustion just for my baby's sake. The smiles are real.
So, starting April 3, husband was in Colorado for a full week. With the exception of the first night (which came after an extremely busy day AND was the first night without daddy), Eric's nights were a dream.** We had an amazing week together, baby and me. I had my mom come over once, on the first day, to let me have a nap -- but otherwise, I didn't need help. When husband got home, the house was in great shape, I was fairly well-rested (I still don't sleep well when he's gone), and I'd even managed to eat three meals most days!
And when we got back from the airport, I showed off the nice, big, empty space in the master bedroom where the bassinet used to be.
*About 2 weeks ago... it's been very busy around here since I started this long post!
**Ouch. Sorry about that. Completely unintentional, I promise.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
the best __________ i ever ate
My in-laws came into town this weekend, so last week, I prepared a couple of meals that would be easy to just pop into the oven between baby's bathtime and bedtime. Since I was doing that kind of meal prep anyway, I wanted to make something to freeze for later, and I know that my husband LOVES my shepherd's (shepherds'? shepherds?) pie. The last time I made it (a few months before my due date), I had not made nearly enough. This resulted in us both staring sadly into an almost-empty casserole dish and deciding to share the last few bites.
I would not make the same mistake this time! My husband walked into the kitchen to see me wrapping up one 15x17 and one 8x8 pan. "You know," I said, "I make the best shepherd's* pie I've ever tasted. ... ... ... And the best mashed potatoes. And the best yellow cake with chocolate frosting."
This is, of course, not to say that there are not better recipes out there. I'm simply saying that I've never had better. Part of this deliciousness is, at least for me, the fact that I made that. It's all the more satisfying because of the work and time and skill it took.
I don't make this statement to be immodest; it's just a fact. There are plenty of things I don't do so well, but I take pride in the dishes that I've perfected.
So, without further ado... my shepherd's pie recipe! I'm not ashamed to admit that most of my favorite recipes are not originals but have simply been tweaked to my preferences -- but this one is truly my own. I didn't care for (or have ingredients for) any of the recipes I found out on the internet... so I used several as inspiration and came up with this perfection.
best-ever shepherd's pie
gather these...
do this...
I have to apologize for the vague nature of some of the quantities and steps. That's what happens when I make up a recipe. They'd never let me on the Food Network; I can't be bothered to write things down. I'm pretty liberal with the spices, and for a single recipe like this one, I probably use about 1/3 cup of catsup. Or so. When reducing the liquid in step 2, just make sure that you no longer have a lot of watery chicken stock left in the pan.
One last note, on the meat: I have been highly disgusted by the price of ground beef lately, and then I remembered that my father-in-law tries to limit his red-meat intake. Bingo! Pre-packaged ground turkey at Wal-Mart for $2.12/pound. I found that the Worcestershire sauce, along with a heavier hand on the black pepper and all the spices in general, really made this taste beefy. I didn't even notice.
*I looked it up!
I would not make the same mistake this time! My husband walked into the kitchen to see me wrapping up one 15x17 and one 8x8 pan. "You know," I said, "I make the best shepherd's* pie I've ever tasted. ... ... ... And the best mashed potatoes. And the best yellow cake with chocolate frosting."
This is, of course, not to say that there are not better recipes out there. I'm simply saying that I've never had better. Part of this deliciousness is, at least for me, the fact that I made that. It's all the more satisfying because of the work and time and skill it took.
I don't make this statement to be immodest; it's just a fact. There are plenty of things I don't do so well, but I take pride in the dishes that I've perfected.
So, without further ado... my shepherd's pie recipe! I'm not ashamed to admit that most of my favorite recipes are not originals but have simply been tweaked to my preferences -- but this one is truly my own. I didn't care for (or have ingredients for) any of the recipes I found out on the internet... so I used several as inspiration and came up with this perfection.
best-ever shepherd's pie
gather these...
- 1 lb. ground beef (or turkey)
- 1/4-1/2 cup chopped onion
- 2 carrots, sliced on the diagonal
- dried basil, rosemary, and garlic powder
- salt & pepper
- catsup
- Worcestershire sauce (if using ground turkey)
- 3/4 cups chicken stock (homemade stock is best, but canned broth will suffice)
- Parmesan cheese (out of a can will work; fresh is better)
- frozen peas
- frozen corn
- mashed potatoes, prepared
- 1/2 cup cheddar cheese, shredded
- paprika
do this...
- Brown onions in skillet. Add meat and brown with dried basil, rosemary, garlic powder, salt, and pepper, to taste. Remove from skillet and drain.
- In same skillet, add carrots and chicken stock. Bring stock to a boil until carrots are al dente, then return meat mixture to pan. Add a hearty dose of catsup and Worcestershire sauce, if using, and simmer to reduce liquid. Pour into 2-quart casserole dish or 8x8 pan. Sprinkle Parmesan cheese over the mixture.
- Add peas and corn, then salt/pepper liberally.
- Spread mashed potatoes over top, closing all seams.
- Sprinkle cheddar cheese over potatoes, then dust with paprika.
- Bake 30 minutes at 375 degrees, then broil on high 3 minutes to brown.
I have to apologize for the vague nature of some of the quantities and steps. That's what happens when I make up a recipe. They'd never let me on the Food Network; I can't be bothered to write things down. I'm pretty liberal with the spices, and for a single recipe like this one, I probably use about 1/3 cup of catsup. Or so. When reducing the liquid in step 2, just make sure that you no longer have a lot of watery chicken stock left in the pan.
One last note, on the meat: I have been highly disgusted by the price of ground beef lately, and then I remembered that my father-in-law tries to limit his red-meat intake. Bingo! Pre-packaged ground turkey at Wal-Mart for $2.12/pound. I found that the Worcestershire sauce, along with a heavier hand on the black pepper and all the spices in general, really made this taste beefy. I didn't even notice.
*I looked it up!
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