Here's the play-by-play of the activities in my household last night:
9:30 pm: Zoey and I are both in bed. Neither of us are asleep--I am reading and she is blabbering to her dolls, but we are in bed nonetheless.
11:58 pm: Bryan wakes me up holding the phone in his hand and saying "your work is on the phone...are you still on call?!?". It takes me about 30 seconds to gather my bearings and remember what day it is, that I am NOT, in fact, on call, and give this information to the nursing supervisor. I am barely coherent enough to tell her the name of the nurse who IS on call Tuesday nights.
11:59 pm: I hang up, but Bryan takes my meager act of clear-thinking to mean that I am actually fully awake, and attempts to engage me in a detailed discussion about our checkbook. He needs to get a check to Lowe's on Wednesday, to pay for the flooring for the new house, because the debit card won't work over the phone, and should he take just one check, or the whole book? I tell him I don't really give a f@*% WHAT he does with the checkbook, and roll over in an attempt to return to sleep.
12:02 am: Bryan returns upstairs and proceeds to, I don't know, move furniture or some other very NOISY activity for about 20 minutes. I kind of want to kill him.
12:20 am: Bryan returns downstairs, flips on the light, and begins putting away his clothes so that he can, I guess, hear what it sounds like to slam EVERY DRESSER DRAWER HE OWNS. First of all, since when does he put his clothes away promptly? And second, why the hell does this HAVE to occur at such a godforsaken hour of the night?
3:12 am: *CLICK* Hall light is on. And I hear....."Mommy?".
3:27 am: I return to bed, yet again, after settling Zoey back in for the night. Bryan rolls over to inform me that HE could have gotten up to take care of her. Why didn't I ask?
3:28 am: Officially want to strangle husband.
5:30 am: My alarm goes off. Hooray.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Pit stop
So, while I was toiling away at work on Saturday, Bryan took Zoey up to Puyallup for the day, so he could (again) get some work done on our house. Zoey spent a very exciting day with her Grandma Heather and Grandpa Alex, chasing the wild bunny that lives on their property and inching her way up to the "scawy" (scary) rooster in his pen. When they got home Saturday night, Bryan told me the following story:
Apparently, on the ride up, after maybe an hour in the car, Zoey announced "poo-poo, Dada!". Bryan asked her if she needed to go poo-poo, to which she responded "yes!". (I can practically see Bryan's truck skittering off the freeway in Centralia, high-tailing it to the nearest McDonalds in an attempt to make it to a potty in time. Not that she was in big-girl panties, mind you, it's just that we're still in the early stages of potty training, when it's novel and exciting to drop everything you're doing to help your little one shit in the toilet and not in her pants.)
So, they pull in to McDonalds and get out of the truck, and Bryan checks Zoey's diaper--no poo-poo! They HAD made it in time! So they rush inside to the bathroom, get the pants and the diaper off, and Bryan proceeds with the quad-killing exercise of squatting down while hovering 32 pounds of toddler over a public toilet.
Zoey proceeded to fart three times and declare herself "all done!".
I seriously thought I was going to wet MY pants laughing when he told me this.
"Sooo, you stopped in Centralia so Zoey could fart three times in a McDonalds restroom?" I asked.
"Um, yes."
Good work, Daddy!
Apparently, on the ride up, after maybe an hour in the car, Zoey announced "poo-poo, Dada!". Bryan asked her if she needed to go poo-poo, to which she responded "yes!". (I can practically see Bryan's truck skittering off the freeway in Centralia, high-tailing it to the nearest McDonalds in an attempt to make it to a potty in time. Not that she was in big-girl panties, mind you, it's just that we're still in the early stages of potty training, when it's novel and exciting to drop everything you're doing to help your little one shit in the toilet and not in her pants.)
So, they pull in to McDonalds and get out of the truck, and Bryan checks Zoey's diaper--no poo-poo! They HAD made it in time! So they rush inside to the bathroom, get the pants and the diaper off, and Bryan proceeds with the quad-killing exercise of squatting down while hovering 32 pounds of toddler over a public toilet.
Zoey proceeded to fart three times and declare herself "all done!".
I seriously thought I was going to wet MY pants laughing when he told me this.
"Sooo, you stopped in Centralia so Zoey could fart three times in a McDonalds restroom?" I asked.
"Um, yes."
Good work, Daddy!
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Gratitude, and a recipe for granola
Here's what I am grateful for today:
On this, the occasion of my LAST WEEKEND OF CALL, EVER EVER EVER, I was sitting around at work, waiting for a procedure to start in the operating room. It was supposed to begin at 9 a.m., which meant, of course, that we started precisely at 9:53. When the doctor arrived and I informed him that, tragically, WE had been called in but the OR team had not--this was the cause of the delay--he informed me that we might have an ERCP to do later on in the day. My heart sank. Not only do I hate ERCPs (too technical, and time-consuming for my taste), but I just really wanted to go home soon and hang out with my kid, whom I had not seen much of since early Friday morning.
"But," he said, and here's where the gratitude comes in, "don't worry. I'm trying to get out of it. I'm not really in the mood to do an ERCP today, how about you?".
You see, this is truly the slacker-attitude that I look for in a weekend, on-call physician. I've never met a doctor who would prefer to just be at home on a Sunday afternoon that I didn't like!
So, on to a completely unrelated topic. I've been making a lot of granola lately. Like, a batch a week. Ever since I started buying plain-old-vanilla yogurt in the quart sized containers, I've noticed that I really need a little something to spruce it up a bit. So I took my mom's recipe for cranberry-almond granola and tweaked it a bit. My friends Kendra and Rebecca both love it, but really, I could bring them a bowl of sticks and mud every week and mix it with a little cinnamon, and they'd go nuts. (This is one reason why I love them both dearly.) Anyway, here is my recipe:
Nonstick cooking spray
1 cup oats (Sometimes I substitute 1/2 cup All Bran and 1/2 cup oats)
1/3 cup slivered almonds
1/3 cup chopped pecans
1/3 cup sweetened coconut flakes
1/3 cup frozen cranberry juice concentrate, thawed (I buy the Langers brand, since it comes in a plastic, resealable container--then I can keep it refrigerated and use it whenever I need it.)
1/3 cup brown sugar
2 tbsp olive oil
1 tsp cinnamon
1 cup sweetened dried cranberries
Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Spray cookie sheet with nonstick cooking spray.
Combine cranberry juice concentrate, brown sugar, olive oil, and cinnamon in small sauce pan. Bring to a boil, whisking until sugar dissolves.
Meanwhile, in a large mixing bowl, combine oats, almonds, coconut and pecans.
Pour hot syrup over oat mixture and stir to coat. Spread mixture on cookie sheet. Bake until golden brown at edges, about 20 minutes. Add cranberries, stir to blend. Bake until granola is golden brown and beginning to dry, about 12 more minutes. Cool completely on baking sheet. Store in airtight container for up to one week.
And that, my friends, is how I've spent my afternoon--baking granola! Hooray for slacker doctors!
On this, the occasion of my LAST WEEKEND OF CALL, EVER EVER EVER, I was sitting around at work, waiting for a procedure to start in the operating room. It was supposed to begin at 9 a.m., which meant, of course, that we started precisely at 9:53. When the doctor arrived and I informed him that, tragically, WE had been called in but the OR team had not--this was the cause of the delay--he informed me that we might have an ERCP to do later on in the day. My heart sank. Not only do I hate ERCPs (too technical, and time-consuming for my taste), but I just really wanted to go home soon and hang out with my kid, whom I had not seen much of since early Friday morning.
"But," he said, and here's where the gratitude comes in, "don't worry. I'm trying to get out of it. I'm not really in the mood to do an ERCP today, how about you?".
You see, this is truly the slacker-attitude that I look for in a weekend, on-call physician. I've never met a doctor who would prefer to just be at home on a Sunday afternoon that I didn't like!
So, on to a completely unrelated topic. I've been making a lot of granola lately. Like, a batch a week. Ever since I started buying plain-old-vanilla yogurt in the quart sized containers, I've noticed that I really need a little something to spruce it up a bit. So I took my mom's recipe for cranberry-almond granola and tweaked it a bit. My friends Kendra and Rebecca both love it, but really, I could bring them a bowl of sticks and mud every week and mix it with a little cinnamon, and they'd go nuts. (This is one reason why I love them both dearly.) Anyway, here is my recipe:
Nonstick cooking spray
1 cup oats (Sometimes I substitute 1/2 cup All Bran and 1/2 cup oats)
1/3 cup slivered almonds
1/3 cup chopped pecans
1/3 cup sweetened coconut flakes
1/3 cup frozen cranberry juice concentrate, thawed (I buy the Langers brand, since it comes in a plastic, resealable container--then I can keep it refrigerated and use it whenever I need it.)
1/3 cup brown sugar
2 tbsp olive oil
1 tsp cinnamon
1 cup sweetened dried cranberries
Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Spray cookie sheet with nonstick cooking spray.
Combine cranberry juice concentrate, brown sugar, olive oil, and cinnamon in small sauce pan. Bring to a boil, whisking until sugar dissolves.
Meanwhile, in a large mixing bowl, combine oats, almonds, coconut and pecans.
Pour hot syrup over oat mixture and stir to coat. Spread mixture on cookie sheet. Bake until golden brown at edges, about 20 minutes. Add cranberries, stir to blend. Bake until granola is golden brown and beginning to dry, about 12 more minutes. Cool completely on baking sheet. Store in airtight container for up to one week.
And that, my friends, is how I've spent my afternoon--baking granola! Hooray for slacker doctors!
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Potty Training: Phase I
We made a major purchase yesterday. An Elmo potty seat on clearance at Target caught my eye, and I thought we'd give it a whirl and see if it might just jump-start the whole potty training process.
My motherly intuition must have been spot-on (for once) because I was right--Zoey was THRILLED with the seat, which is really a smaller version of a toilet seat that sits right on top of the real toilet.
Zoey wanted to hop right on and break in her new seat, and made a valiant effort at going potty. She kept mentioning poo-poo, but after several minutes, we decided that she must be finished trying, and she hopped down. Tragically, after turning my back for two minutes to get a wash cloth out of the hall closet, I returned to Zoey's report of "Icky, Mommy", and found a turd resting on the bathroom rug, dangerously close to my sister Abby's travel bag. No good. As we flushed the turd and moved Abby's bag to her room, we had an upbeat discussion about how important it is to go poo-poo IN the potty.
Zoey opted for her big-girl panties instead of a diaper, and I'm thinking this might be the way to go while we're at home hanging out--she likes her underwear, and she knows immediately when she's wet and will come to find me for a change of clothing. This has significantly upped the amount of dirty laundry produced in the past 24 hours, as well as ANOTHER surprise turd that escaped on the kitchen floor as we stripped her down post-accident, but I think it might eventually clue her in as to what it feels like to NEED to go potty.
While I am somewhat embarrassed to admit the amount of wayward turds we've had to deal with in such a short period of time, I am happy to report that I have an ample supply of Clorox products on hand, AND ZOEY WENT POTTY TWICE AND POO-POO ONCE IN THE BIG-GIRL POTTY. (Are you marveling at the fact that my child has had three bowel movements in one 24-hour period? Bear in mind that these are only the ones worth mentioning, as Zoey has recently fallen back in love with blueberries. Nice visual, eh?) Anyway, much fanfare and M&M-passing-out ensued, and high-fives were shared by all.
If my sister leaves here still wanting to have children of her own someday, it will be a small miracle. There's nothing like a turd in your bathroom bag to make you rethink your reproductive timeline.
My motherly intuition must have been spot-on (for once) because I was right--Zoey was THRILLED with the seat, which is really a smaller version of a toilet seat that sits right on top of the real toilet.
Zoey wanted to hop right on and break in her new seat, and made a valiant effort at going potty. She kept mentioning poo-poo, but after several minutes, we decided that she must be finished trying, and she hopped down. Tragically, after turning my back for two minutes to get a wash cloth out of the hall closet, I returned to Zoey's report of "Icky, Mommy", and found a turd resting on the bathroom rug, dangerously close to my sister Abby's travel bag. No good. As we flushed the turd and moved Abby's bag to her room, we had an upbeat discussion about how important it is to go poo-poo IN the potty.
Zoey opted for her big-girl panties instead of a diaper, and I'm thinking this might be the way to go while we're at home hanging out--she likes her underwear, and she knows immediately when she's wet and will come to find me for a change of clothing. This has significantly upped the amount of dirty laundry produced in the past 24 hours, as well as ANOTHER surprise turd that escaped on the kitchen floor as we stripped her down post-accident, but I think it might eventually clue her in as to what it feels like to NEED to go potty.
While I am somewhat embarrassed to admit the amount of wayward turds we've had to deal with in such a short period of time, I am happy to report that I have an ample supply of Clorox products on hand, AND ZOEY WENT POTTY TWICE AND POO-POO ONCE IN THE BIG-GIRL POTTY. (Are you marveling at the fact that my child has had three bowel movements in one 24-hour period? Bear in mind that these are only the ones worth mentioning, as Zoey has recently fallen back in love with blueberries. Nice visual, eh?) Anyway, much fanfare and M&M-passing-out ensued, and high-fives were shared by all.
If my sister leaves here still wanting to have children of her own someday, it will be a small miracle. There's nothing like a turd in your bathroom bag to make you rethink your reproductive timeline.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
"Kowawa" Day!
Yesterday we drove up to Puyallup (or, "Kowawa", as Zoey pronounces it) to check out our new house. Zoey was ecstatic to be going where Daddy has been going for days on end for so many weeks now, and I was just thrilled to finally get a glimpse of the house we'll be living in when we get there. We bought it over a year ago, but we've had renters in it up until December 31, so until yesterday, I had only seen the outside. What I KNEW about the inside was that it was built in the late 60's or early 70's, and hadn't been updated since. This was a major bone of contention when we were actually buying the place, and Bryan assured me that certain ugly highlights (like miles and miles of wood paneling and the ugliest carpet and drapes you've ever laid eyes on) would be renovated before I moved in.
And the house? Wow. I love it.
Despite the ugliness, and the fact that it is, well, DATED, I just can't get over how much SPACE we'll have when we get there! There are closets EVERYWHERE you look, and storage space galore. The kitchen, while it looks like it has been plucked right from the Brady Bunch, is so cool--a cook top stove with plenty of storage underneath for my pots and pans (good-bye, horribly-cramped-and-small Lazy Susan set-up in our Vancouver house!), and it even has this cool cupboard set up specifically for my beloved KitchenAid mixer--you put your mixer on this shelf that pops up when you open the cupboard, and it even plugs in to the cupboard floor. SO COOL. We will actually have room for all Zoey's toys to be stored downstairs in the rec room, and will be able to pick up the play kitchen I've been wanting to get her for months but have had no room to store it. Zoey will have a bedroom almost twice the size of what she's living in now, and we'll have TWO guest rooms! (Until Baby #2 comes along, but who knows how long that will be??)
But the absolute best part of yesterday had to be the presence of grandparents ready and willing to take Zoey off our hands so we could get some projects accomplished. My dad met us for lunch as soon as we got to Puyallup, and immediately volunteered to take Zoey back to his house while we ran to Home Depot and did some measuring at the house. (I am on the look-out for good deals on curtains, mirrors, and a small kitchen table and chairs.) We were able to zip through Home Depot, picking up flooring and counter-top samples, then spend plenty of time alone at the house, measuring, evaluating, and discussing what needs to be done before the Big Move-In day arrives. All of this without the aid of a two year old running around underfoot! It was great.
The thought of leaving my friends down here in Vancouver still makes me so sad. BUT, now that I have seen our new place and experienced the Aid of Grandparents, I am MUCH more excited to make the move home in March.
And the house? Wow. I love it.
Despite the ugliness, and the fact that it is, well, DATED, I just can't get over how much SPACE we'll have when we get there! There are closets EVERYWHERE you look, and storage space galore. The kitchen, while it looks like it has been plucked right from the Brady Bunch, is so cool--a cook top stove with plenty of storage underneath for my pots and pans (good-bye, horribly-cramped-and-small Lazy Susan set-up in our Vancouver house!), and it even has this cool cupboard set up specifically for my beloved KitchenAid mixer--you put your mixer on this shelf that pops up when you open the cupboard, and it even plugs in to the cupboard floor. SO COOL. We will actually have room for all Zoey's toys to be stored downstairs in the rec room, and will be able to pick up the play kitchen I've been wanting to get her for months but have had no room to store it. Zoey will have a bedroom almost twice the size of what she's living in now, and we'll have TWO guest rooms! (Until Baby #2 comes along, but who knows how long that will be??)
But the absolute best part of yesterday had to be the presence of grandparents ready and willing to take Zoey off our hands so we could get some projects accomplished. My dad met us for lunch as soon as we got to Puyallup, and immediately volunteered to take Zoey back to his house while we ran to Home Depot and did some measuring at the house. (I am on the look-out for good deals on curtains, mirrors, and a small kitchen table and chairs.) We were able to zip through Home Depot, picking up flooring and counter-top samples, then spend plenty of time alone at the house, measuring, evaluating, and discussing what needs to be done before the Big Move-In day arrives. All of this without the aid of a two year old running around underfoot! It was great.
The thought of leaving my friends down here in Vancouver still makes me so sad. BUT, now that I have seen our new place and experienced the Aid of Grandparents, I am MUCH more excited to make the move home in March.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Scaredy cat?
Zoey seems to have developed a freakish fear of her own sock fuzz floating in the bath tub.
Yes, you read that right.
I noticed last week that she seemed a little disgusted with her own toe-jam that would dislodge in the bath water, and point out "ickies, Mommy", then wait patiently as I tried to sift them out. And now we have crossed over in to the realm of shrieking and trying to climb up the side of the tub if ANY floaters are discovered in the "tub-tub". Not sure how we made the leap from being semi-grossed-out to all-out-freaking-terrified, but here we are.
(Tonight it was so bad I thought for sure Bryan must be drowning her in the tub. As I wandered back to the bathroom to check out the scene, I found Zoey in frantic claw mode while Bryan teased her, in typical man-fashion, saying "oooh, Zoey, they're gonna get you!". I was most unimpressed by this horrible display of parenting, and said as much to my husband, a man who CLEARLY logs no hours per month reading Parents and Parenting magazines.)
So, um, is this normal? Maybe not the sock-fuzz fear, per se, but fears in general at such a young age? Are monsters in the dark next on the list? I thought we had AT LEAST until age four before dealing with irrational phobias. Guess I was wrong.
Again.
Yes, you read that right.
I noticed last week that she seemed a little disgusted with her own toe-jam that would dislodge in the bath water, and point out "ickies, Mommy", then wait patiently as I tried to sift them out. And now we have crossed over in to the realm of shrieking and trying to climb up the side of the tub if ANY floaters are discovered in the "tub-tub". Not sure how we made the leap from being semi-grossed-out to all-out-freaking-terrified, but here we are.
(Tonight it was so bad I thought for sure Bryan must be drowning her in the tub. As I wandered back to the bathroom to check out the scene, I found Zoey in frantic claw mode while Bryan teased her, in typical man-fashion, saying "oooh, Zoey, they're gonna get you!". I was most unimpressed by this horrible display of parenting, and said as much to my husband, a man who CLEARLY logs no hours per month reading Parents and Parenting magazines.)
So, um, is this normal? Maybe not the sock-fuzz fear, per se, but fears in general at such a young age? Are monsters in the dark next on the list? I thought we had AT LEAST until age four before dealing with irrational phobias. Guess I was wrong.
Again.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Playing hooky
Okay, here's the thing.
I VERY rarely call in sick to work, and when I do, it is never because I am sick--it's always due to Zoey being under the weather. (The last time I called in sick for myself was in September 2006. All I remember is that I was pregnant...and probably exhausted.) And even when Zoey is sick, I most often scramble to find back up babysitters so that I can still go to work, and leave Zoey at home feeling crummy. So when she spiked her yucky Winco fever on Sunday, my mind automatically went in to scramble-mode and started making emergency plans for work on Monday.
But you know what? There was just too much stacked against me, and for once, I decided to do the easy thing and just call in sick.
While there is a part of me that feels guilty for doing this, here's what I was up against:
1. Sick child, running a fever, can't go to preschool.
2. Bryan doing a double shift at the clinic, AND taking his last final (hopefully EVER) at 6:45 that night, and wouldn't be home until after 8 p.m.
3. I was on call and wouldn't be home until who-knows-what-time. OR, (worse) I could get home, get settled in with Zoey, get called back to the hospital, and have to find some place for her to go. With a fever. Yeah, right. None of my friends would be dumb enough to take her when she's sick, and risk infecting their own kids.
So, as I was reviewing my options, I just couldn't come up with anything that seemed fair to my kid or cost effective for my checkbook. Asking the babysitter to come at 7 a.m. and stay until who-knows-when seemed, well, expensive. And it still didn't solve the dilemna of what to do with Zoey if I got called back to work after I got home. And let's face it--when you're looking at potentially paying someone half your daily wages just so you can go sit at work and wonder if your pager is going to go off at 4 p.m., the thought of calling in sick starts looking a LOT easier.
I am tired of doing the Daycare Scramble. I am tired of being on call and so often having to find a place to farm out my child if my pager goes off. I am tired of my husband's intense schedule, with all the hours he has to put in at the clinic just so he can get all his visits in and graduate on time. Add in all the hours he has logged fixing up our house in Puyallup, and I am starting to feel like a single parent. (NOT that I am blaming him for this problem, because I know it is temporary. In the back of my mind, I keep reminding myself that 6 months from now, these problems will be resolved and we'll be worrying about something else--what? I'm not sure. But Bryan will be done with school, I will have my old, peaceful job back, and our house will be finished. It's coming. I can see that light at the end of the tunnel, really!)
So anyway. I digress.
Zoey and I ended up playing hooky yesterday because it was the easiest thing I could come up with. And it was great.
She woke up fever-free (of course) but we still spent all day at home in our pajama pants. I discovered my daughter's love of glue sticks, and while she was napping, covered her kid-sized table with butcher paper and layed out all kind of things to glue together--different shapes cut out of construction paper, buttons, wiggly eyes, you name it. We spent HOURS sitting at her table gluing things together. We put together every puzzle she owns, read all her favorite books, and watched endless episodes of Mr. Rogers. And I accomplished something I haven't done in years--I read an entire book in one day. It was fabulous.
Of course, by 7 p.m. I had a raging case of cabin fever and Zoey was throwing one of her patented all-out-tantrums, but other than that, it was a very restful day.
I VERY rarely call in sick to work, and when I do, it is never because I am sick--it's always due to Zoey being under the weather. (The last time I called in sick for myself was in September 2006. All I remember is that I was pregnant...and probably exhausted.) And even when Zoey is sick, I most often scramble to find back up babysitters so that I can still go to work, and leave Zoey at home feeling crummy. So when she spiked her yucky Winco fever on Sunday, my mind automatically went in to scramble-mode and started making emergency plans for work on Monday.
But you know what? There was just too much stacked against me, and for once, I decided to do the easy thing and just call in sick.
While there is a part of me that feels guilty for doing this, here's what I was up against:
1. Sick child, running a fever, can't go to preschool.
2. Bryan doing a double shift at the clinic, AND taking his last final (hopefully EVER) at 6:45 that night, and wouldn't be home until after 8 p.m.
3. I was on call and wouldn't be home until who-knows-what-time. OR, (worse) I could get home, get settled in with Zoey, get called back to the hospital, and have to find some place for her to go. With a fever. Yeah, right. None of my friends would be dumb enough to take her when she's sick, and risk infecting their own kids.
So, as I was reviewing my options, I just couldn't come up with anything that seemed fair to my kid or cost effective for my checkbook. Asking the babysitter to come at 7 a.m. and stay until who-knows-when seemed, well, expensive. And it still didn't solve the dilemna of what to do with Zoey if I got called back to work after I got home. And let's face it--when you're looking at potentially paying someone half your daily wages just so you can go sit at work and wonder if your pager is going to go off at 4 p.m., the thought of calling in sick starts looking a LOT easier.
I am tired of doing the Daycare Scramble. I am tired of being on call and so often having to find a place to farm out my child if my pager goes off. I am tired of my husband's intense schedule, with all the hours he has to put in at the clinic just so he can get all his visits in and graduate on time. Add in all the hours he has logged fixing up our house in Puyallup, and I am starting to feel like a single parent. (NOT that I am blaming him for this problem, because I know it is temporary. In the back of my mind, I keep reminding myself that 6 months from now, these problems will be resolved and we'll be worrying about something else--what? I'm not sure. But Bryan will be done with school, I will have my old, peaceful job back, and our house will be finished. It's coming. I can see that light at the end of the tunnel, really!)
So anyway. I digress.
Zoey and I ended up playing hooky yesterday because it was the easiest thing I could come up with. And it was great.
She woke up fever-free (of course) but we still spent all day at home in our pajama pants. I discovered my daughter's love of glue sticks, and while she was napping, covered her kid-sized table with butcher paper and layed out all kind of things to glue together--different shapes cut out of construction paper, buttons, wiggly eyes, you name it. We spent HOURS sitting at her table gluing things together. We put together every puzzle she owns, read all her favorite books, and watched endless episodes of Mr. Rogers. And I accomplished something I haven't done in years--I read an entire book in one day. It was fabulous.
Of course, by 7 p.m. I had a raging case of cabin fever and Zoey was throwing one of her patented all-out-tantrums, but other than that, it was a very restful day.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
There's gratitude in here, if you squint real hard and look at it from far away
Do you know what this is? Do you?THIS is what my kitchen likes when I decide that I am, after all, the second coming of the Barefoot Contessa, AND THEN decide to "whip up" her recipe for chicken stew with biscuits for dinner tonight.
The thing is, I LOVE the Barefoot Contessa. Love her. I own three of her cookbooks and long for the day that Zoey will nap for a three hour stretch at the same time The Food Network decides to air a marathon running of her show. The reality of my life is that I caught a 5-minute snipet of her show this morning before giving in to Zoey's incessant whining for the choo-choo show, remembered that I had recently purchased her newest cookbook at Costco a couple weeks ago, and decided to peruse the contents as I sucked down my morning coffeee.
And I, with monthly hormones coursing through my veins, lit upon the recipe for Chicken Stew with Biscuits and found myself dreaming of comfort-food heaven.
The recipe is essentially chicken pot pie filling covered with biscuits instead of pie crust, and it looked DIVINE. One of the things I love about Ina Garten is that she sticks to fairly basic ingredients (pounds of butter, anyone?) and her recipes are, in general, not impossible to follow. (Unlike Martha Stewart, whom I have given up on due to her constant combining of weird and hard to find ingredients and complicated recipes. Lemon cheese curd shortbread? I think not.)
The odds of accomplishing a new recipe, simple or not, were not in my favor this morning. Bryan decided to head to Puyallup for the day to work on our new house, leaving me at home with a whiny, cranky toddler. I needed to do major grocery shopping at (*sigh*) Winco. However, one of my major faults happens to be my uncanny ability to ignore the Voice of Fate, so Zoey and I were soon bundled up and off to Winco.
Loyal followers of my blog remember my extreme distaste for grocery shopping at Winco, which is why I typically prepare a painstaking list (complete with coupons) and send Bryan off to do the shopping every Sunday. The work that needs to be done on our new house in Puyallup has meant that Bryan is not around much on weekends lately, and this has left Zoey and I to fight our way through the claustrophobic aisles of my least favorite store. And while there are few things I hate more than watching a fat-ass in her Mountain Dew flannel pajama pants load up a cart with any pork product she can get her hands on in the meat department, the fact remains that shopping at Winco saves us plenty of money every week in groceries.
Zoey was in a particularly foul mood this morning as we selected our shopping cart and I began the process of cramming a crying, wriggly two year old in to the seat. The tears lasted clear through the produce aisle, at which point she ramped it up a bit and started sobbing "nigh-nigh, Mommy! Nigh-nigh!". You want to go to sleep? Seriously? And yet she persistently pointed to my shoulder, begging to be lifted out of the cart. "You want to go night night on Mommy's shoulder?" "YEAH!". Hmmm. As I lifted her out of the cart and felt her curl against my body, I discovered what was likely the source of her crankiness--she was hot and feverish. Awesome. Because Winco is the PERFECT place to discover that your child has a fever.
I somehow managed to navigate a stubborn cart and a somewhat-sick toddler through the remainder of the store and made it out to the car in relatively good time.
Once home, with groceries unloaded, I packed Zoey off for a much-needed nap, after checking her temperature. (Low-grade fever at 99.0. Hopefully something a nap might fix? Can you spike a fever from pure exhaustion?)
And then...it was my time in the kitchen.
First of all, I had read through the list of ingredients (obviously) before heading to Winco, and decided to substitute some of Bryan's homegrown parsnips for two of the carrots in the recipe. Parsnips (for those of you who don't know) (and for those of you who do, just indulge me for a second) are these wonderful white veggies that look an awful lot like carrots, and even crunch like carrots...but they're sweeter and very, very yummy. Unfortunately for me, they were still parked firmly in the garden. After calling my husband for directions as to how I might go about locating and digging up these treasures, I headed out to the back yard in the soggy grey weather to dig me some parsnips!
(Note: I AM NOT A GARDENER. I leave that task solely to my husband. The extent of my gardening skills this year included picking ripe tomatoes off the vine, and after that, I'm out. The tops of the parsnips looked like weeds to me.)
Bryan had warned me I might have to use "something" to dig the veggies out of the ground, but I figured, how tough can it be? I mean, if they're like carrots, carrots come out of the ground easily...right?
So there I was, squatting in the mud, with my daughter's plastic straight-from-the-$1.99-bin-at-Target shovel, FIGHTING with the damn parsnips to please, please release themselves from the earth. My five minutes of struggling yielded one medium sized as well as two rather puny parsnips, 10 fingers covered in mud, and 10 fingernails now desperately in need of a scrubbing.
I was off to a great start.
Ina, I love you, but this recipe I chose was more difficult than I had bargained for. Lots of chopping, blanching, sauteing, combining, and mixing, all of which required the use of every single pot and pan I own.
Fortunately, and here's the gratitude part, I love to cook and find being in my kitchen a very peaceful experience. I am even a little grateful for the tight quarters, as this allowed me to continue constantly stirring what would be my pot-pie gravy while reaching across the room to pull a clean spoon out of the drawer. (But even I could live without cleaning by hand every heavy pan that lives in my cupboard.) I may not know a carrot top from a weed in the ground, but I can take those carrots and whatever else you throw me and whip up a kick-ass pot-pie, Barefoot Contessa style!
Anyway. With the ingredients (finally) assembled and in the refrigerator, I managed to sit down and relax on the couch for all of two minutes before I could hear Zoey talking to herself in her bedroom. When I went to get her up, I discovered she was hotter (much hotter) than she had been when I layed her down. And her big, brown eyes had that glassy look to them that she always develops when she's getting sick. Sure enough, her temperature was up to 101 degrees. Great.
So we BOTH relaxed with a continuous stream of pre-recorded episodes of Mr. Rogers on TV, with Zoey zoning out on my lap as I read the Anthony Bourdain book I am completely in love with over the top of her head.
And my dinner? Was fabulous. Totally worth all the hard work! The biscuits...yummy. I want to make more tomorrow, although I am afraid that while I am on lockdown with a feverish toddler, this could mean disaster for my waistline. (Zoey took one lick of gravy off one piece of chicken and opted instead for Raisin Bran. These are the nights that I particularly wish I didn't spend so much time preparing great food for myself and a pint-sized underdeveloped pallate.)
And now, I have to go call in to work and leave a message about my absence tomorrow, as my guilty conscience just can not bear the idea of waking Zoey up at 6 a.m., doping her up on ibuprofen, and sending her to preschool, hoping for the best. (It does not help that, in her very verbal current state, she can actually say to me "no work, Mommy...home!", and shoot me that sad, sad glassy-brown-eyed look that always melts me, no matter what.)
Here's hoping I don't go insane tomorrow!
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Dancing Queen
Zoey's preschool Christmas program, which was originally scheduled for December 19 but cancelled due to snow, was rescheduled for this past Monday, January 5.
Cutest. Thing. Ever.
The kids in the Pre-K class (I think they are 4 and maybe 5 year olds) were truly the stars of the show, and rightfully so. Despite the fact that they have likely gone weeks without steadily practicing their "numbers", they belted out a half-hours worth of songs--some Christmas-themed, some in Spanish, and some in sign language, with amazing enthusiasm and some impressive maneuvers.
My daughter's class, full of two year olds, were really more like a supporting cast. And what a back-up set they were.
At first, as they all filed in, Zoey and her lot of friends (Ari, Adley, and Reese) remained safely stationed near their beloved Teacher Melina. In fact, I don't think Zoey left Teacher 'Nina's lap for the first two songs. But then they sang "Away in a Manger", and you could tell something clicked in her little brain...she remembered those moves! Hand gestures and all, she did well with the song. They were all starting to warm up to the program, actually, if you don't count the poor little boy in the front row who continually picked his nose through the duration of the show.
And then, Zoey spotted Daddy in the back of the crowd, and OH MY GOD, did she take off from there!!!
Bryan snuck in a bit late, having driven all the way back to Vancouver from his school out in Northeast Portland, and as SOON as Zoey saw him, her eyes lit up and she started jumping up and down and waving to her adoring fans in the crowd. And then it was as though she wanted to show off a bit--taking center stage in front of the big kids to execute her super-fine dance moves, which involve a lot of elbow swinging, hip swiveling, and the general impression that she may or may not be having a seizure. (She clearly gets her lack of rhythm from her mother.) For the rest of the show, she had the biggest grin on her face, and still occasionally took the time to wave to us in the crowd.
All in all, it was the most adorable thing I've seen in a long time and I was very impressed with my child's joyfully awkward dance moves.
Cutest. Thing. Ever.
The kids in the Pre-K class (I think they are 4 and maybe 5 year olds) were truly the stars of the show, and rightfully so. Despite the fact that they have likely gone weeks without steadily practicing their "numbers", they belted out a half-hours worth of songs--some Christmas-themed, some in Spanish, and some in sign language, with amazing enthusiasm and some impressive maneuvers.
My daughter's class, full of two year olds, were really more like a supporting cast. And what a back-up set they were.
At first, as they all filed in, Zoey and her lot of friends (Ari, Adley, and Reese) remained safely stationed near their beloved Teacher Melina. In fact, I don't think Zoey left Teacher 'Nina's lap for the first two songs. But then they sang "Away in a Manger", and you could tell something clicked in her little brain...she remembered those moves! Hand gestures and all, she did well with the song. They were all starting to warm up to the program, actually, if you don't count the poor little boy in the front row who continually picked his nose through the duration of the show.
And then, Zoey spotted Daddy in the back of the crowd, and OH MY GOD, did she take off from there!!!
Bryan snuck in a bit late, having driven all the way back to Vancouver from his school out in Northeast Portland, and as SOON as Zoey saw him, her eyes lit up and she started jumping up and down and waving to her adoring fans in the crowd. And then it was as though she wanted to show off a bit--taking center stage in front of the big kids to execute her super-fine dance moves, which involve a lot of elbow swinging, hip swiveling, and the general impression that she may or may not be having a seizure. (She clearly gets her lack of rhythm from her mother.) For the rest of the show, she had the biggest grin on her face, and still occasionally took the time to wave to us in the crowd.
All in all, it was the most adorable thing I've seen in a long time and I was very impressed with my child's joyfully awkward dance moves.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
No, David!
Zoey has a new favorite book.
I picked up "No, David!", by David Shannon, yesterday at the consignment store. My daughter has been so hooked on her "aminal" book (the title is something like "First 100 Animals", I forget, although I shouldn't--I've read it at least twice a day since my sister, Michelle, sent it to her for Christmas!) that I thought a new book might come home unnoticed for quite a while.
I was wrong.
I asked last night if she wanted to read a new book about a little boy who gets told "No!" a lot, and you could see an obvious glimmer of curiosity in her eyes. We sat down on the couch together and, thanks to the simple verbage (how many different ways can you say "no"?) and great illustrations, Zoey was hooked. You could tell by the look on her face that she found a kindred spirit--someone who, like her, is quite often told NO. She was delighted with each page and walked around repeating phrases from them for hours afterwards.
"I shid NO!" (I said NO!)
"Shettuh dawn, Dave-Dave!" (Settle down, David!)
"Dash A-NUFF!" (That's ENOUGH!)
The saddest part of the story occurs at the end, when David is sitting in a time-out for breaking his mom's vase with a baseball. Zoey spent most of her day today discussing the ins and outs of David's behavior on various pages, but the ball breaking the vase was it for her. "No, Dave-Dave! Time-out...shad Dave-Dave. Shoey time-out. Mommy no, no, no! Shad Shoey."
(The entire gist of this conversation centers around Zoey's relating to the sadness that IS a time-out.)
I love watching my child's love of reading unfold before my very eyes. I am a big fan of my new blogger friend Maggie's blog titled "A Slice of Wife" (link is below on the list of blogs I am following). She has two young girls and was just writing the other day how great it is to see that her oldest daughter is completely in love with reading (despite the fact that said daughter wakes her up routinely at 5:15 a.m. to read with her).
So move over, First 100 Animals, because David has arrived on the scene...
I picked up "No, David!", by David Shannon, yesterday at the consignment store. My daughter has been so hooked on her "aminal" book (the title is something like "First 100 Animals", I forget, although I shouldn't--I've read it at least twice a day since my sister, Michelle, sent it to her for Christmas!) that I thought a new book might come home unnoticed for quite a while.
I was wrong.
I asked last night if she wanted to read a new book about a little boy who gets told "No!" a lot, and you could see an obvious glimmer of curiosity in her eyes. We sat down on the couch together and, thanks to the simple verbage (how many different ways can you say "no"?) and great illustrations, Zoey was hooked. You could tell by the look on her face that she found a kindred spirit--someone who, like her, is quite often told NO. She was delighted with each page and walked around repeating phrases from them for hours afterwards.
"I shid NO!" (I said NO!)
"Shettuh dawn, Dave-Dave!" (Settle down, David!)
"Dash A-NUFF!" (That's ENOUGH!)
The saddest part of the story occurs at the end, when David is sitting in a time-out for breaking his mom's vase with a baseball. Zoey spent most of her day today discussing the ins and outs of David's behavior on various pages, but the ball breaking the vase was it for her. "No, Dave-Dave! Time-out...shad Dave-Dave. Shoey time-out. Mommy no, no, no! Shad Shoey."
(The entire gist of this conversation centers around Zoey's relating to the sadness that IS a time-out.)
I love watching my child's love of reading unfold before my very eyes. I am a big fan of my new blogger friend Maggie's blog titled "A Slice of Wife" (link is below on the list of blogs I am following). She has two young girls and was just writing the other day how great it is to see that her oldest daughter is completely in love with reading (despite the fact that said daughter wakes her up routinely at 5:15 a.m. to read with her).
So move over, First 100 Animals, because David has arrived on the scene...
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Gratitude #2
Mr. Rogers.
Because really? If your kid is going to wake up at 6:45 on a Saturday morning, it's really great to have a TV show coming on shortly that you know they will sit still in front of for an entire half hour. I know this isn't throwing me up for any Mother of the Year awards, but honestly, I don't care! There aren't many shows that Zoey is willing or interested in sitting through for a long period of time, (like, longer than 10 minutes), but I always know that Mr. Rogers is a shoo-in. I still can't quite figure out what it is about the program that holds the attention of a two year old so raptly, but I'll take whatever I can get.
Because I dearly, dearly love the opportunity to take 30 minutes on a Saturday morning to check my email, read up on my favorite blogs, and generally take a moment to get myself adequately caffeinated for the day.
Cheers, Mr. Rogers!
Because really? If your kid is going to wake up at 6:45 on a Saturday morning, it's really great to have a TV show coming on shortly that you know they will sit still in front of for an entire half hour. I know this isn't throwing me up for any Mother of the Year awards, but honestly, I don't care! There aren't many shows that Zoey is willing or interested in sitting through for a long period of time, (like, longer than 10 minutes), but I always know that Mr. Rogers is a shoo-in. I still can't quite figure out what it is about the program that holds the attention of a two year old so raptly, but I'll take whatever I can get.
Because I dearly, dearly love the opportunity to take 30 minutes on a Saturday morning to check my email, read up on my favorite blogs, and generally take a moment to get myself adequately caffeinated for the day.
Cheers, Mr. Rogers!
Friday, January 2, 2009
Gratitude #1
Kicking off the list of things to be grateful for:
1. Trader Joe's. What a great place to wander the aisles on a Friday night when your husband and child are making you crazy and you just need to get out of the house! (Couldn't go to Target, seeing as how I've already been there twice this week. Otherwise, Target is TOTALLY at the top of my Grateful List.) I decided to look in to the whole organic, natural yogurt idea, like a lot of you suggested in my previous Yeast Post. I picked up a big container of natural, acidophilus-packed, "Banilla" flavored (that's banana-vanilla mixed) yogurt that I am truly, truly hoping Zoey will eat. And then I came home and fixed some homemade granola to go with it.
And what do you want to bet Zoey won't even touch it tomorrow morning?
1. Trader Joe's. What a great place to wander the aisles on a Friday night when your husband and child are making you crazy and you just need to get out of the house! (Couldn't go to Target, seeing as how I've already been there twice this week. Otherwise, Target is TOTALLY at the top of my Grateful List.) I decided to look in to the whole organic, natural yogurt idea, like a lot of you suggested in my previous Yeast Post. I picked up a big container of natural, acidophilus-packed, "Banilla" flavored (that's banana-vanilla mixed) yogurt that I am truly, truly hoping Zoey will eat. And then I came home and fixed some homemade granola to go with it.
And what do you want to bet Zoey won't even touch it tomorrow morning?
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Another day, another set of diapers...
It's another gray, drizzly Northwest day...another one that started off with Zoey refusing to use the big girl potty. I gave up after all bribes had failed--the promise of endless rounds of Old MacDonald and the allure of big girl panties just weren't cutting it. Oh well.
I'm sure you're all trying to come up with your lists of New Years resolutions, right? Or, like my good-buddy-blogger Tara, are you trying to merely set standards of living for 2009? I like that idea, although I have come up with a couple concrete resolutions for myself. And my child. They are as follows:
1. Potty training. Perhaps closer to the second half of 2009. We'll see.
2. Start a list of all that I am grateful for. My friend Heather inspired me with her holiday blog entries that centered around things she is most grateful for. Also, I read in my Real Simple magazine that people who keep lists of things to be grateful for are, like, 25% happier than the average person. (How they determined what 25% happier looks like, I don't know...seems like an odd percentage. But whatever.) I've decided I could use more happiness in my life, and I am a HUGE fan of making lists, so I will give this a whirl. Be on the look out for gratitude on this blog!
3. Begin countdown of Days Left to Work in Hell. Assuming that the first Monday in March is my last day of work, that leaves me with only 26 working days to survive! (Note: cross-reference Resolution #3 to Item #1 of 'Gratitude List'.)
4. Spend as much time as humanly possible with all my Mommy friends here in Vancouver, whom I will miss dearly when we move.
5. Use the 'Shuffle Songs' option more often on my iPod. Because really? I forget it's there sometimes and it is AWESOME. My playlists inevitably contain only 10-12 songs each and listening to them over and over again sometimes gives me a headache. But when you shuffle all of them, it's non-stop excitement! (It should be noted that Zoey's current favorite song is 'Hold Me Now' by the Thompson Twins. That's right, an 80's child after my own heart. Any time spent listening to the iPod is always kicked off with this song, which Zoey adorably sways slowly to and calls "my shong".)
So, there you have it. Feel free to hold me to being more grateful and mixing up the playlists a little more often.
I'm sure you're all trying to come up with your lists of New Years resolutions, right? Or, like my good-buddy-blogger Tara, are you trying to merely set standards of living for 2009? I like that idea, although I have come up with a couple concrete resolutions for myself. And my child. They are as follows:
1. Potty training. Perhaps closer to the second half of 2009. We'll see.
2. Start a list of all that I am grateful for. My friend Heather inspired me with her holiday blog entries that centered around things she is most grateful for. Also, I read in my Real Simple magazine that people who keep lists of things to be grateful for are, like, 25% happier than the average person. (How they determined what 25% happier looks like, I don't know...seems like an odd percentage. But whatever.) I've decided I could use more happiness in my life, and I am a HUGE fan of making lists, so I will give this a whirl. Be on the look out for gratitude on this blog!
3. Begin countdown of Days Left to Work in Hell. Assuming that the first Monday in March is my last day of work, that leaves me with only 26 working days to survive! (Note: cross-reference Resolution #3 to Item #1 of 'Gratitude List'.)
4. Spend as much time as humanly possible with all my Mommy friends here in Vancouver, whom I will miss dearly when we move.
5. Use the 'Shuffle Songs' option more often on my iPod. Because really? I forget it's there sometimes and it is AWESOME. My playlists inevitably contain only 10-12 songs each and listening to them over and over again sometimes gives me a headache. But when you shuffle all of them, it's non-stop excitement! (It should be noted that Zoey's current favorite song is 'Hold Me Now' by the Thompson Twins. That's right, an 80's child after my own heart. Any time spent listening to the iPod is always kicked off with this song, which Zoey adorably sways slowly to and calls "my shong".)
So, there you have it. Feel free to hold me to being more grateful and mixing up the playlists a little more often.
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