We had The Boy's parent teacher conference yesterday and all went well. They had nice things to say about him and how creative he is. We got to see his artwork and they said he's a bit ahead of his age in their opinion. I guess he takes after me there. He's also a bit sensitive and prone to bottling up hurts, but we already knew those things and the teachers just pointed them out to encourage him to come talk to them when he's feeling upset.
It's always nice to hear good things about your child from someone else and know it isn't just biased Mom and Dad who think he's pretty special and super.
As a teacher, I sometimes forget that things I say at conferences are very important. I just finished my 33rd parent teacher conference a few days ago. Over the years I've seen thousands of parents. Thank you for reminding me to think about saying positive things (one can always find something) to each parent.
I'm always a sucker for reading about other people's labor and delivery, especially at the moment. While I have no desire for a home birth, I find Carrie's story beautiful and amazing. Her son has been having some jaundice problems since though, so I know she's been extra busy and worried all at once and could certainly use good thoughts.
You might just be nine months pregnant when nothing sounds good for lunch, so you eat grapes, yogurt, sour cream & onion chips and jello. Hmmm. There is a reason we almost never have those last two in the house, and it isn't just to deprive the children.
And finally, pregnant women like tasty food -- except when nothing sounds good -- and they also like food that doesn't take too long to prepare. This is a favorite around my house, although neither kid likes cooked red pepper much. The Girl will eat raw red pepper all day long though, so I feed her as I'm cutting it up. The recipe as written calls for you to cook up the chicken as part of the meal, but it also works very well and is even faster with shredded leftover chicken (or turkey after Thanksgiving). I think this recipe is a modified version of something found in the Better Homes and Gardens Complete Step-By-Step Cookbook.
Thai Chicken
serves 4
2 chicken breasts
3 green onions
1 medium red bell pepper
3 garlic cloves, minced
2 tablespoons soy sauce
1 tablespoon chopped fresh cilantro
1 tablespoon honey
1½ teaspoons curry powder
1 teaspoon sesame oil
½ teaspoon cornstarch
¼ teaspoon crushed red pepper
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
Cut chicken into thin strips. Heat oil in wok and stir-fry until cooked. Set aside in a bowl.
Thinly slice green onions; cut red bell pepper into 2-inch-long matchstick-thin strips.
In a small bowl, mix garlic, soy sauce, chopped cilantro, the next 5 ingredients, and ⅓ cup water.
In a wok, heat vegetable oil over high heat. Add green onions and red bell pepper and cook, stirring frequently, until tender and golden. Stir in soy sauce mixture and chicken and cook, stirring to coat the chicken well. Serve over Asian rice.
Nesting, eh? Would you mind doing that at our house? It's been two weeks since we vacuumed
posted by Terry Oglesby at October 29, 2004 03:55 PM
Only two weeks? When I said it was uncharacteristic of me, I really meant it. I can easily go a month without vacuuming the rugs. Of course, we only have three of them and I don't put off sweeping for more than a day or two, but still -- I'm not one to drag out the vacuum cleaner on a whim.
When you head for the shower with a bottle of bleach and Tilex AND it's the middle of the night, that's when you should really start getting that bag ready. The other tip-off is when you're on your hands and knees (which is NEVER comfortable when 9 months pregnant) using Q-tips on the baseboards. Yikes!
1) Name your THREE favorite candies you hope for when you go trick-or-treating.
Dots, Sour Worms and Gummy Bears
2) Name your THREE favorite things at state/county fairs (food or exhibits or rides or animals or animal food rides or whatever).
frozen bananas, lemonade, and onion rings
As this is my blog and so I can do four things, I'll also add that I love the section where they have all the free pencils, ballons and other things. I love collecting all that junk.
3) Which THREE songs you would download for a cell phone?
If I had a cell phone, I might download music for it, though I kind of hate the personalized music one hears blaring from every phone in town, but who knows when I'll ever make that technological leap anyway or how I'll feel about it by then. Perhaps I would get The Doors' "Hello, I Love You" or better yet Homer Simpson saying, "D'oh!" But I'd probably just want an old fashioned telephone ring.
If I set my mind to it, I can enjoy Dots and Jujubees without chewing. Drives my wife nuts if we're sharing a box of candy, since she's more into instant gratification when it comes to sweets.
I have my e-mail notification set up to a Homer "woo-hoo" every time I get a new message at work. It will sometimes get a quick look-around followed by a chuckle. I can't imagine the reaction to a series of "D'ohs!" or "Woo-hoo's!" for a cell phone ring.
Is the instant gratification with hard candies a male/female thing? If I give my wife or female colleagues a piece of hard candy [the Baskin-Robbins sugar free is good], they all start crunching. The candy lasts about 10 seconds.
I don't know the answer Jim, but I am a cruncher, which kind of drives my husband nuts -- plus, as you can see, I really like the gummy sorts of candies better.
I never thought I'd want a personalized ring on my phone, but since I get so few calls on mine when I used a generic setting I would always assume it was someone else's phone and not even think to try to answer my calls until it had rung enough times for the caller to give up on me before I could pick it up. So I paid the big one dollar to Virgin to buy a "Lovely Rita" ringtone. My phone is pretty basic, so it's just the beeps that mostly sound like a song rather than a quick blare of radio-ready music. I picked "Lovely Rita" because it was pretty much the only song that I both liked and could recognize in its beeped version. But it works. As soon as I hear the Beatles beeping at me I go for my phone and catch the call.
The Boy has been in school since late August and his school starts parent teacher conferences next week. Because of our unique circumstances though, we're having our conference this afternoon. I don't expect to hear that my kid is a bully or anything. I expect to hear that he cries a bit much at unexpected changes -- like when he was allowed to keep playing instead of making bread one time, but I figure that's something that he'll grow out of eventually. He's only four.
Still, I'm nervous about going to talk to his teachers, although interested too. What will I hear about him? What's he like when he's not with us? Other than Bible classes on Sunday and Wednesday, he's done very little that didn't involve his parents before this. I still miss him some mornings when he's at school and I wish I could be the fly on the wall to watch him.
The Boy seems far too little to be in any kind of school and having parent teacher conferences and yet he seems so big too. These kids grow up way too fast.
Things are all the same with me as they were three weeks ago. As I mentioned back then, I always seem to dilate to 3 centimeters and then go into a holding pattern indefinitely. The end is in sight though, for which I am glad. I'm pretty exhausted and swollen these days.
Terry thinks the end of this pregnancy might have driven me just a wee bit insane. I submit that I must have already been insane, since this is my third child and I have no idea how to deal with a newborn and The Girl.
The only problem with pregnancy-induced insanity is that it doesn't go away. I've given birth to 8 kids....think about it. That's enough to give a person "pause".
The way to retain a shred of sanity is to think of one thing: REVENGE. This manifests itself in two ways.
1) Therapy. They're going to need it eventually, and you'll be paying for it. You might as well make it worth the expense. Play with their little minds, and make that fancy-pants psychiatrist earn that $75/hour.
2) Their kids. When the time comes that they have their own, you get to do all those things your parents do to your kids that drives you nuts right now. And,as I understand it, that sudden look of dawning comprehension your child gives when their own two year old successfully sticks spaghetti in an electrical outlet makes all the insanity worth it.
I got out of the shower this morning and instead of grabbing my usual lilac towel, I got a dark purple one -- because the lilac ones were in the washing machine. My daughter looked up and said, "Where pink towel, Mommy?" I told her it was dirty so I was using a purple towel. She got an evil grin on her face and said, "Mommy have poo-poo towel! Mommy have poo-poo, pee-pee towel." And then she burst into gales of laughter. Potty humor starts early.
It sometimes amazes me what comes out of my four year old's mouth -- and not because he's usually saying stuff I don't want to hear -- usually I just marvel at how interesting he is and all the thoughts that the little chipmunks inside his head are processing.
Obviously he thinks about religion and God more than I realized. Here are some observations and questions from the past week or so.
On God:
The Boy: Do you think God has a wife?
Me: We never hear about one in the Bible, so probably not.
The Boy: But he made a wife for Adam so he wouldn't be lonely, so He probably has one Himself.
On the End of the World:
The Boy: When will the world cease to exist?
Justin: We don't know.
The Boy: Well, why will it?
Justin: God has a plan to create a new perfect world without the flaws in the this one.
The Boy: I like this world.
Justin: God is going to make a new, clean world some day.
The Boy: Will our house get destroyed? I think it is clean enough.
On Polytheism:
If God is everywhere, that's almost like having many gods. That's probably why the Greeks thought there were a lot of gods.
I think he said that the house was clean enough just so God wouldn't take his house away. I like the idea of a new clean world, especially one that cleans itself.
It gave me a chuckle to think how a radical feminist might have answered the one about God having a wife:
No, but She may have a husband!
[PS God isn't lonely because He has the Son and Holy Spirit with Him - unless you don't believe in the Trinity.]
I think the boy is smarter than many adults I've met. One of the commentaries on the Torah reading we did a few weeks back noted that Polytheism was an outgrowth of early humanity's service to God. Humans started out acknowledging that the sun, moon, stars etc. were God's handiwork, but over time began treating them as deities instead. So I think the boy is not far off there.
And thanks for the hat tip to us non-trinitarians there, Marc :P
I should mention that I added a bunch of blogs to my blogroll. There are probably some I should have added, but didn't. Anyway, you might see someone over there you haven't visited before and I think they are all worth checking out.
We have two dusters -- one made when wool and one in some synthetic rainbow colored fuzzy stuff. When I dust (ha!) I use flannel dust clothes, but my kids love the dusters. They are currently fighting over the use of the rainbow one, so I've been setting the kitchen timer and making them trade dusters every 3 minutes. It may not get the house all that clean, but if they want to play dusting who am I to tell them no?
lol! We have the same problem. We have a plethora of dusters, but my fave is the Swiffer duster. It actually holds the dust instead of just rearranging it. But it's a pricey way to do the job. The nice thing is they can be used for several jobs before they're too full to hold any more. I give my kids turns using that one and at least feel something's being accomplished! :-P
Dusting is one of my least favorite chores, since I'm an anti-perfectionist. Being in a mixed marriage, my perfectionist wife may say that I did OK with the dusting, but I know she's thinking that she'll have to re-do it all herself.
Wonder what your youngsters would think if they each got their own "personalized" dusters under the Christmas tree? Sounds like an untapped market ready for a "crafty" entrepeneurbusiness-person.
My old high school buddy, Ellen, points out an interesting story about the return of the contents of a briefcase of Bono's that was stolen in 1981. You never know what interesting stuff could be lying around the attic -- not if you're a packrat anyway.
I get some strange search engine hits now and then, not to mention some fairly common place ones and some that don't even bear thinking about. I'm awfully surprised that yard signs (especially Kerry ones) rank so high on my hit list and who knew that so many people were out there looking for applesauce recipes, but the person searching Yahoo for does britney spears wear diapers -- well that was weirder than almost anything I've seen.
I think the real answer is -- who knows? and who cares? and I sure don't, nor do I have any interest in finding out.
Well, I must say I was somewhat surprised that my Yahoo search led me back to the familiar musings at Curmudgeonry. But it's disappointing to discover that not only do you not really address the issue, you don't seem to care to. *sigh*
You know how some people will call talk shows and say, "Long time listener, first time caller?" These particular blogs have been started by people who could easily describe themselves as "long time commenter, first time blogger." Both of them have spent way too much time reading Possumblog, but don't seem any crazier than the rest of us. Go welcome Skinny Dan and Tex to the blogosphere.
The week before last I had a recipe for pumpkin pancakes and if you make those, you have enough pumpkin left in the can that you need to do something else. This muffin recipe, which I believe came from Southern Living originally, but has been through a few alterations by me, uses up the rest of the can quite nicely.
Pumpkin Apple Muffins
makes 24
1 2/3 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon pumpkin pie spice
1 cup sugar
1 cup canned pumpkin
1/2 cup butter, melted
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
1 Granny Smith apple,
peeled and finely chopped
Preheat oven to 350°. Combine first 6 ingredients (flour through sugar) in a large bowl; make a well in the center of mixture.
Combine pumpkin, butter, and eggs, and add to dry ingredients, stirring just until moistened. Fold in chopped apple, spoon into greased or paper-lined muffin tins, filling two-thirds full.
For the topping, combine sugar, pumpkin pie spice, oatmeal and butter; crumble over muffins.
Bake for 20 minutes. Remove from pans immediately, and cool on wire racks.
I mentioned before that my son is quite the lover. He has his preschool girlfriend and on days when she's sick, he's not quite as happy and on many days when she's there he delights in giving her big hello and goodbye hugs -- and who knows how many hugs during the day.
Recently, one of his favorite songs has become Red River Valley and he's taken the time to learn most of the words. He'll go around humming or singing it throughout the day.
Yesterday he told me the reason he liked the song so much was, "Because it is a love song and it makes me think of Preschool Girlfriend (not her real name)." In fact, he's started composing his own love songs inspired by her.
I wonder when he'll figure out yet that Red River Valley is a sad love song, and not one that might exactly be inspirational for young lovers. And I must note that this sweet young thing better not go breaking my son's heart too cruelly when the day comes that she finds someone new.
What with the new haircut and all, The Girl suddenly seems a lot older. She's in the midst of being two without a doubt and she decided not to take a nap at all yesterday, but new things are always happening.
Although she seems to like dolls, we sometimes feared for The Girl developing much of a motherly nature as she tossed her "babies" across the room or used them as a cushion to sit on. She still does that sort of thing, but the other day I caught her cuddling one of her dolls, patting it on the back and saying, "That's okay, baby. Don't cry." Which is not to say she's not still her brother's biggest tormenter when he's sad or in trouble, but it was a sweet moment and a step in the right direction.
On the other hand, I don't exactly want her to be all dolls all the time or too prissy. Our collection of books for very little children is helping that regard, because most of them, acquired for her big brother are all about trucks. She came over this morning, thrust one at me and demanded to see the loader and the bulldozer.
Heh. I've got three little girls, ages 6, 4 and 2, so this is one of the standard criteria of Daddy Watch.
My four year old is the most "girly" of the lot - she hates to wear anything but dresses, for example. But one of her favorite games is to hurl her snugglebear at the ceiling over and over - laughing like a loon the whole time - and then to comfort it afterwards.
Either she's comfortably poised astride that line between tomboy and girly-girl or else she's completely psychotic. Go figure.
With five (3 girls, 2 boys)I've quite a lot of different patterns in the children. I've had my caretakers and my cringe and wonder types. The odd thing is, in my family the most active, energetic,rought and tumble one, is one of the girls and the most quiet, gentle one is one of the girls.
It looks like beer. It tastes yucky like beer. But last time I checked, the actual alcohol content in non-alcoholic beer was negligible. Anyway, I bought some O'Douls today to use in beef stew since Cook's Illustrated said it worked well and my friends have often recommended beer as a stew base. If I'd thought anyone would think I was buying beer, I would have been more than a little embarassed -- not only because I don't drink and belong to a teetotalling church, but because I'm about as pregnant as pregnant can be and carting around a two year old besides.
I unloaded all my groceries and last but not least the near beer. Everything rings up and when they get to the final item, they scan it and stare at me expectantly. "Can I see your I.D. please?" I don't look that young and it is non-alcoholic beer, so I was a bit surprised, but I complied. The woman checking my I.D. had never heard of non-alcoholic beer and didn't seem to quite believe me when I told her that's what it was. Why would the computer ask for I.D. otherwise? She also told me that since the computer insists on a birthday for all alcoholic (or apparently alcoholic looking) beverages, they now card everyone -- even if they are 80.
Oh bu-ruther! That is ridiculous! Carded for NON-alcoholic beer! Sheesh! I'm a teetotaler, too. Thanks for the warning for any future purchases of the same.
Speaking of Cook's Illustrated, (shhhhh!!) I just bought my hubby a subscription to it for Christmas. Of course, I'll be reading it, too. *wink*
I would think it appropriate to show fake ID when buying fake beer, but I'm from New York, so...
And I take this as one more sign of both an increasingly litigious society and a dumber one. Clearly they want to cover their hineys (when selling Heiny, I guess) by carding everyone no matter the age. Clearly also they assume the cashiers aren't intelligent enough to decide who needs carding & who doesn't. Oy.
I was once carded for buying non-alchoholic beer while pregnant, too. That clerk said that they had a too-broad coding system that brought up the prompt to id for everything from a beer manufacturer. It seemed to me that more than anything it was probably just laziness on the part of whoever does the coding. Figuring out new codes for non-alchie products made by Coors or Bud or whoever would take a bit of thought and effort, after all.
You know, Nina, I vaguely remembered that someone I knew had been carded for buying something non-alcoholic, but I forgot who or under what circumstances.
It is a good thing my husband and I haven't been counting on the rising property values around us as a nest egg. When I went out this morning for groceries, I noticed that the slummy, long-empty house across the street was having stuff done to it. Now I've been aware for a long time that the slum lord was trying to off-load the property and rumor has it that he was offered $125,000 and turned it down, much to all the neighbors sorrow. No word had gone around that the property had been sold, but today the fence was gone, a backhoe and a dump truck were in the back yard and the back yard was now filled with gravel from one end to another.
Yep, the house sold -- and for a hefty sum according to the county maps. Unfortunately it sold to the church behind it, whose building has been "under construction" with nothing being done to it for a year now. My husband called and they have plans to add on to the exisiting house and turn the backyard into a parking lot. How lovely. No doubt they will take care of this place as well as the other two houses they own in the neighborhood -- which is to say, not well.
And this all comes from the aforementioned slum lord, who at a recent zoning hearing complained that a developer who wanted to convert a drug house into a light commercial office space and renovate it was "ruining the residential character of the neighborhood."
Hmph. When I'm emperor, people will only get to freely exercise their property rights when it doesn't impinge upon mine and I won't have to look across the street at a parking lot.
We have a church across the street. Thy are definitely our loudest neighbors, but usually it's good noise. We've also been using the parking lot as overflow parking. Not, of course, on Sunday mornings, Sunday evenings, or Wednesday evenings, since they have regular activities at those times. It would seem, though, that we're always conflicting with a funeral or a lawnmowing or somesuch, and they asked us (with less than extreme cordiality) not to use the lot without calling first. Of course, as he was laying down the law, the congregational representative (I assume it was the pastor, who lives about 50 yards away) was parked in our driveway. I suppose he thinks he was making a point, but it seems to me there's a difference between parking in somebody's driveway and parking in a parking lot. Anyway, he made me feel bad, which makes me defensive, I guess, since I got a little bit mad (though I was on my best behavior and apologized several times, with no apparent softening of the guy's attitude). You'd think he would at least congratulate us on our baby.
My, was this weekend thrilling! I made the kids felt crowns, finished my craft projects for the Waldorf school, got the Girl's hair cut, helped shred last year's papers (which always leaves me feeling like Lionel Hutz) and file all the papers we've been stuffing in our "to be filed" basket for a year. We also watched Ella Enchanted, which was fun even if it was kind of stupid. I packed bags for the kids should we have to make a run to the hospital, but haven't gotten around to packing much of my own. Of course, if you were expecting any sort of thrilling baby developments you are at the wrong place, although all the women at church think the baby looks lower.
And now since I'm still blogging in my pjs, I suppose I had better get cleaned up, make a grocery list and proceed with exciting decisions like bananas or apples or both?
Congratulations, you Pajamahedeen! Must have been that kinda weekend - me & Mrs. Skinny spent time digging out from under the paper mountain as well. Given that I largely organize papers for a living, you'd think we'd have it together at home. Classic "barefoot shoemaker's kids" deal.
Don't forget the cranberries! They should be coming into season any day now.
I wouldn't worry about packing, since once you get to the hospital they give you one of those designer gowns with the "airy" back. And who worries about make-up after delivering a baby to the world? Let your husband pick up the stuff you need after you take care of the important business at the hospital.
Continued prayers for the safe delivery of a healthy baby and for a happy (and relieved) mama.
Marc, Marc, Marc--surely you've been in the South long enough not to ask a silly question about why a girl would worry about having her makeup fixed while she's in the hospital! Reba made sure she had hers packed before anything else each time, and it was always one of the first things she asked for afterwards. After a real Coke with sugar and caffeine, that is.
posted by Terry Oglesby at October 18, 2004 11:51 AM
Yes, but would the proprietress of Curmudgeonry, the full-of-life Mrs. Adams, come close to referring to herself as a "Southern Belle"? Living in the heart of TN may be sufficient, as well as previously attending school in the outstanding state of AL (home of the Axis of Weevils). I'm just not sure how she would classify herself, as I vaguely recall her mentioning something about life in CA.
I would hardly describe myself as a Southern Belle, despite college and graduate school in the South and the six or so years living here afterwards. I'm not one to go heavy on makeup either -- but people take pictures of you after you have a baby. Lots of pictures. And other people come visit you. Not to mention that you really don't feel exactly human, so makeup goes a long way towards one feeling a bit closer to normal -- even if the pictures later prove that the makeup didn't help much.
I'm wearing jeans with the huge belly panel today. Thanks to the miracles of modern engineering, I actually have other jeans that stretch enough that they can zip up and have no panel at all. They are in the wash though, so I have to wear the ones that I have left over from previous pregnancies. I guess I avoid the belly panel jeans, when possible, because when my daughter saw me putting them on today she pointed and said, "What's that?" I told her it was my tummy and she laughed and said, "Mommy tummy ball." Throughout the day she has periodically come up, pulled up my shirt and giggled and patted my "tummy ball." I already knew pregnancy and parenting weren't really for the vain or faint of heart, but this feels like a new low.
Whew, $54 for tummy ball pants - being pregnant sure ain't cheap! I hope you will be blessed in the future when your daughter has to wear tummy ball pants, then you can go up to her, pull up her shirt and pat HER belly whilst giggling.
[That will probably not be the only item for mother's revenge years from now, but it's not too early to start making a list.]
Mine jeans aren't from the Gap, I just thought they gave a good look at all the options one has for "eternity" jeans these days. The best thing to do is have friends the same size as you are that have already been pregnant. I have a nicer wardrobe this time around, because a friend lent all her clothes to me.
I had my first internal check, and I'm about 3 centimeters dilated and 80% effaced -- for those of you who know what that means. My body is making progress towards having this baby, but naturally, this progress means nothing. Nada. Zilch. I don't think I've ever gone past 3 without going into labor, but I've walked around at that dilation with the other two for weeks. Still, I think I had better draw up a list of people to call after the baby arrives and pack a hospital bag -- just in case.
Update: If anyone wishes to be notified by telephone of the baby's arrival and get the exciting experience of speaking with me or perhaps the Curmudgeonly husband, you are welcome to send me an e-mail with your phone number in it. I'm not calling internationally though.
And go ahead and put a towel and a plastic garbage bag in the car so you'll have something to sit on. I mean, having a baby's important and all, but there's no sense in having to have the upholstery cleaned because of it.
posted by Terry Oglesby at October 12, 2004 11:53 AM
Fortunately, I live 5 minutes from the hospital and have leather seats.
I hate naming babies. This is because I feel compelled to find The Perfect Name that meets a long list of criteria, and since both The Boy and The Girl happen to be holders of The Perfect Name, the third child is in trouble. Not to mention that since I really have no idea whether this is a boy or a girl, I need to figure out The Perfect Name for each sex. No small task.
I don't require myself to go into the hospital with a name completely chosen and settled on. The Boy got a first name within a few hours after birth, although we kicked around a couple of options for a few days. He got his middle name as we were in the process of checking out of the hospital, so we had to call the harassing "name lady" and give her the name over the phone.
We did a little better with The Girl. I had pretty much settled on a first name for her when she was born, but it still took us another day to agree to the middle name that I had thought I liked best all along.
With this baby, we have what one might call "an extended short list." Probably half the names on it are things one or both of us really like, but that we almost certainly could not bring ourselves to actually saddle a child with.
So what do we -- mostly I -- require from a baby name for our child? It can't be too popular. If is in the top 100 baby names from the Social Security Administration, the name is immediately removed from contention (for a first name slot). It has to be a real name with a real spelling -- unusual is dandy, made up is not. It has to sound good with Adams -- a subjective criterion, I admit, but some names do sound better than others. The name must go well with our other children's names -- theirs are both rather British, so something too Italian, French or any other ethnic sounding name wouldn't sound right. The initials, if at all possible, need to not look too stupid or make too odd an acronym. With an "A" last name, almost every initial combination will sound like it belongs to some authority or association or administration, so this one is almost impossible -- but names forming the initials DOA or BRA would be instantly rejected. And finally, as I mentioned, although we don't mind giving the kids names that are hard to spell or hard to pronounce even (I've survived Jordana just fine) it should be something that will grow with them and that will never be a huge embarrassment to them (although I will grant you that at one point or another any kid is probably going to find any name embarrassing, and I was miserable as a small child because there were never any shoe laces, stickers, license plates or other kitsch with Jordana out there).
Should be simple, huh? I just hope this baby gets named before we leave the hospital.
As long as you aren't my mother, I don't mind name suggestions. :) My mother, though, loves naming babies, always thinks she knows more than anyone else, and tends to drive me nuts, so I've pretty much had to explicitly say, "I will not discuss names and don't bring up the subect."
I'm a rotten daughter.
As for relatives, one of my possible boy names is from a family member, but generally speaking even going way, way back there aren't many names on either side that we really like.
You are not a rotten daughter. A little impertinent maybe, but certainly not rotten.
I'm resisting the urge to suggest names, but it's difficult. Li'l Tater got his real first name before I could have any say in it, and it's one of the currently popular Biblical ones (I'm like you and would prefer something out of the ordinary). Another youngster on his soccer team has the same name, so it makes barking out "suggestions" during the game a little more difficult. His middle name started out as Jaymes, but we did have that one changed to something else (MY middle name!). And no, his real first name is not Bartles!
When I was young my name was uncommon; and I could never find a sign/plaque/key chain with just my first name---but now there are Rachel Ann's all over the place! It is odd how trends work.
My whole family of origin had biblical names. At one point we were on an island in the middle of nowhere and my mother called for us. Someone nearby said "You are Jewish aren't you?" I think they were the only other family in the vicinity.
Actually, Rachel Ann, that dead relative thing isn't universal. Certain Sephardic communities actually deliberately name children after living relatives, evil eye or no evil eye. For some reason I can't grasp, Morris is a name that has remained current in one Sephardic community in Brooklyn, NY where I'm from. And Hasidic Jews have a habit of naming kids after leaders of their sect. (A friend of mine used to joke that you could get a whole school bus full of kids from the Satmar sect to turn around just by yelling "Joel!", as a previous leader's name was Joel)
For our part, my grandmothers were Ethel and Sylvia, and Mrs. Skinny's late grandma was Mabel. We gave 2nd child a middle name related to Mabel, and her first name is similar to my Great Grandma Luba, but that's as close as we came. You can see we didn't have a lot to work with.
My parents really messed up with my sister's initials. First name "Frances;" middle name "Currier;" last name "Kern." I won't spell it out for you, but suffice to say, it does not look cute when the monogramed baby clothes started to arrive.
Make sure you write out the proposed initials and STARE at them for a few minutes.
You are right Skinnydan, I should have been more specific. Sometimes we become very self-centric.
My kids all have the Hebrew version of their grandparents names.
What was really funny was one child is named Betzalel. Well my granfather, after whom he was named is Charlie in English; couldn't figure out the connection till a friend asked me if we were going to call my son Solly for short.
End of mystery.
(sorry Jordana, I know this is off topic.)
I will boldly give ideas, knowing you have no qualms about nixing them. One of my favorite names is Aoibheall, which is traditional Celtic. I know a woman with that name, and she is delightful, so it may be one reason I like it so well. It's pronounced "A-ah-vull", which is very musical. And my niece Haydon's middle name is Aisling, also Celtic, and pronounced "ASH-ling".
Boy's names are harder. I'm on an Irish kick (did you guess?) and Padraig looks good to me - the Celtic spelling of Patrick. But that is prone to "Paddy" or "Rag" as nicknames, so... Nicknames are more of an issue for boys. Don't just look at initials, think of all the little ways nasty little boys in first grade could think to say it.
I have always loved my name, which is unusual enough to feel individual, but not so difficult as to cause people to look at me blankly when I say it. The only downside is that I have to listen to a lot of people sing "Oh Susanna" to me, most of whom act as if it's a grand joke I've likely never heard before.
Note to Susanna...Hey, my first daughter's name is Susanna and spelled exactly like yours! Most people try to cram an "h" at the end or use a few "z"s. And you're right! They ALL want to sing the folk song.
Anyway, Jordana, having just been through this exact nightmare of naming a baby, I must say that once he (or she) is finally named and a few months have passed, the name seems to fit pretty well. I venture to say that any name you pick would be wonderful, after a few months. I really did not care too much for the name "Luke", but here we are almost 5 months later and in all honesty, it pretty much fits him. I was pulling for "Josiah", as it is biblical and has 3 syllables ending in the "ah" sound (to go with the other 2 kids' names), but, alas, I was vetoed.
Naming a child is to be tackled only by fierce people. I'm sure whatever name you choose for little Adams will be simply marvelous and he (or she) will love it (I pooled for a boy, don't ya know).
Can't wait to hear the news! Do keep your adoring public updated regularly!
Dangerous, LittleA... I thought I was joking when I asked Paul if he wanted to name his first-born Johann Sebastian Baxter. He would have, too, but I put my foot down at the J-pronounced-like-a-Y thing.
Jordana, you're welcome to use Honoria, as long as you promise not to start a trend. I'd still like to use it if we get a girl somewhere down the line. Maybe you should charge Justin with finding the boy name. Paul was eager to take that duty on- though it didn't take long for him to decide this time.
Honoria is a beautiful name, but it does have bad Bertie Wooster connotations -- not that most people are P.G. Wodehouse fiends like we are, I suppose.
I can't just go letting Justin pick out the boy's name for two reasons. (a) I'd be giving up control, which I prefer not to do. (b) Our son would be named St. John (pronounced Sinjin, for those of you not into Britishisms).
I hate the debates. I try to watch them, but I just can't. My attempt on Friday night went as follows.
The President walked in and I thought, "He looks pretty peppy and up-beat."
John Kerry walked in and I thought, "He's smiling. Make him stop! Make him stop! The Dems thought Zell Miller was going to scare the children, but they let John Kerry smile? Please make it stop."
The hippy looking woman asked John Kerry if he was wishy-washy, and he started talking. I thought, "Oh no! He's talking and smiling. Make him stop! I can't take any more."
So I turned off the TV and read some live-blogging instead. I may have to put even stricter restrictions on my TV-viewing, and I already almost never turn the thing on, if Kerry wins. I find him very hard to watch.
He claims it was not intentional, but I find it verrrrrrry interesting that Mr OotFP has managed to be away from home for all four debates. He's in the US for this one, but busy enough that I'm sure his precinct-person signed his excuse ;-)
For the others, he was far enough away to sleep soundly (even with jet-lag) through the entire event.
Personally, I detest watching Mark Geragos even more than the candidates.
I ended up being a Classic Cup of Joe as well. "Simple yet perfect" ... yeah, I like that description.
Staying with the food motif of today, I must ask what you picked on the quiz when asked between chocolate chip cookies and pecan pie (as well as the other, not so consequential, choices)? I was torn between the two, but the ultimate temptation, chocolate, won out.
I think the Europeans who took the South American cocoa beans and developed modern chocolate had to be secretly led by the devil himself. Something that enticing and enthralling can only be a devious ploy from infernal regions.
Well, pecan pie was never even under consideration. I don't feel as strongly about them as Patricia, but I'm not a big fan of most nuts. I wavered between coffee ice cream and chocolate chip cookies and I can't remember which I actually chose. If it had been coffee ice cream with chocolate chunks, it would have won hands down.
I'm sorry but I think the correct answer is the pie. This question must not have been that heavily weighted. We all three answered differently here and still managed to have the same result.
Chocolate Chip Cookies with Pecans - or coffee ice cream with chocolate chunks - or pecan pie with bourbon and chocolate chips, you are my kind of people!
In October, pumpkins and jack-o-lanterns are all around. Pumpkin pies are lovely and yummy, but there are plenty of other ways to eat a bit of pumpkin. These pumpkin pancakes make a lovely autumn breakfast dish. I don't recall where I found this recipe originally, nor if I have modified it over the years.
Pumpkin Pancakes
makes 20
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice
2 eggs
1¾ cups milk
3 tablespoons melted butter,
plus 1 tablespoon for frying
½ cup canned pumpkin
Mix together flour, baking powder, salt, sugar, and pumpkin pie spice in a large bowl using a whisk to stir.
In a medium bowl, whisk eggs and milk. Add 3 tablespoons of melted butter and pumpkin to the other wet ingredients and stir together. Pour mixture over the dry ingredients and stir until just blended.
Heat the remaining butter on a griddle over medium-high heat. Then pour about a ¼ cup of batter for each pancake. When they bubble on top, flip and cook until brown on other side.
We had some chimney sweeps in cleaning and inspecting the chimney. The news on which isn't all that great, but it is over 80 years old and originally designed for coal, so I guess we're lucky it works at all. That isn't the real point though, if that matters.
While the workmen were here, my darling little daughter decided to latch on to the word hassle and say it over and over and over again -- quite loudly. Her father and I probably say, "What a hassle!" rather frequently, being the types who hate being bothered -- or at least complain about it amongst ourselves before doing whatever is necessary. And so she hears all about these hassles. While I think The Girl generally speaks pretty clearly for her age, that h-sound is still not very distinct and so you would swear she's yelling a word that shouldn't be crossing such sweet little lips. It was especially nice when she started telling me that everyone in the family was a hassle. "Daddy 'assle. Brudder 'assle. Dog 'assle."
I wonder what the chimney sweeps thought we'd been saying in front of her.
I'm sure the sweeps thought more about your daughter's "cutie-ness quotient" than a possible naughty word. Hope they did not find any leaks, since those can be expensive to repair.
LOL; my brother had trouble pronoucing the phoneme tr, it came out as F. This was in the days before all cars were air conditioned; so we would be zooming past the traffic and my bro would be loudly proclaiming LOOK AT ALL THE F(tr)UCKS n CARS!
My big bro got in big trouble for that on the schoolbus. He was much older, though, and I'm sure that the driver would have known what he actually said, had (s)he actually been listening, but that is more easily said than done with a busful of schoolchildren. I think that was poor Ehren's only detention.
I really hate putting gas in the car. Whether I hate it because when the kids are little babies they scream their heads off while the car is stopped, or if it has to do with memories of gasing up at -40, or if there is another reason all together, I'm not sure. But I do tend to put off the evil day and ignore the values my parents tried to instill of always having at least a half a tank of gas in the car. Not that I usually try to wean it, mind you, but I often don't break down and go to the gas station until the gauge is at a quarter tank or so. When the empty light came on last night, I knew I'd been ignoring the gas just a bit too long and something would have to be done.
This morning, the Girl and I pulled into the gas station, I got out my wallet, popped the gas tank opener thingie and walked around to the pump. Only to stare dumbly at my van for few seconds before realizing that unlike every other automobile I've ever owned, this one has the tank on the other side. I jumped back into the van, swung around the pumps and pulled up on the correct side.
I got out, got ready to feed the car and realized that I'd parked so far back from the pump that the hose wouldn't reach. I had to get back in the car, restart it (because of course the car was on a slight incline and I couldn't just roll it forward), drive forward 4 feet and finally fill it up. In the interest of full disclosure, I should mention that I also parked so close to the pump that, with my extended ninth month of pregnancy girth, getting in and out was a challenge.
While I admit to having enough pregnancy brain at this point that my license should probably be revoked, at least I know all the people stopped at the extremely busy intersection had something to laugh about. I'm doing my part to make America laugh.
Not long after I started driving I went to fill up the car, and like you, also pulled up on the wrong side. So I got back in my car, did a 180 to the other side of the pump and got out, only to discover, I was STILL on the wrong side. So, I did the only reasonable thing... I got in my car and drove off to fill up somewhere else.
Ever since I blogged about putting a Bush/Cheney sign in my yard and how weird that felt, I've been getting more search engine hits for political yard signs than just about anything else. I've been getting an equal number of people searching for Kerry signs as Bush ones, and so I suspect I get a lot of disappointed people coming over here. I was surprised today to find out that Curmudgeonry is the number one search on MSN for "I want a Kerry sign in my yard". This blog and I sure wouldn't be much help there.
In other news, I finally broke down and got a "W the President" sticker for my van. I was going to get one for my husband's car, but The Boy insisted that his dad really needed the "Don't Be a Girlie-Man. Vote Republican." sticker. I doubt that will make it onto the car, but it is amusing and more amusing that my four year old loved it so.
Or perhaps the later isn't so surprising. His current favorite joke is to say, "Mom you are a M-A-N, and Dad you are a L-A-D-Y." This sends him into peals of laughter, as long as you don't suggest that he is a "G-I-R-L." Anything that keeps him interested in spelling, huh?
That's great (about the 4 year old, not that your blog is the #1 search for Kerry yard signs)!! Both my 4 year old and my 2.5 year old like to say (unprovoked and repetitively), "FOUR MORE YEARS!!" and "FLIP-FLOP". They don't know what it means, but they sure do enjoy chanting it!
The Girl decided, for reasons unknown, to start wailing at 4 a.m. I found her curled up on the rug in her room bawling, with her big brother sound asleep, oblivous to the racket, in the next bed over. One major flaw with toddler beds is that they are really not made for parents to cuddle up with their kids in -- especially not mothers with bellies as wide as the mattress. I brought the girl back to my room, where she proceeded to wiggle, chat and complain until around 5 when I decided to take her out to the kitchen, so that Justin could sleep a bit. She wanted food right away, so maybe this was all caused by hunger. Then I curled up on the loveseat and she came over with a book and "read" herself back to sleep. She only slept long enough for me to doze off, but I guess that was better than nothing.
Inspite of being exhausted, I feel less cranky right now than yesterday. However, I suspect that it wouldn't take too much to turn me into a weepy bowl of jello, so I hope for a calm and quiet day today.
Putting on my mommy hat here, and I know I'm repeating myself (but that is what mommies do)
Milk and honey, milk and honey.
It really does help them to sleep; helps everyone to sleep. Other people swear by chammomile tea or sleepy -time but for me milk and honey has always worked best.
I think because it solves the thirst/hunger problem and there is something in milk that is a soporific.
A headache, not going to bed early last night (although Calendar Girlswas worth watching), whiny children (one of whom cried that Daddy took all the leftovers for lunch), not being able to get teak oil at Home Depot, a long line at Lowes, a letter I thought I needed weighed at the post office that only really needed one stamp, grocery shopping, and more whining all before lunch, really brought Miss Crankypants back.
I have a month left to go, but I'm really tired of being pregnant. God definitely designed women to become more tired of pregnancy than they are afraid of dealing with a newborn. Even though I know that having a newborn, a two year old and a four year old is going to be taxing in the extreme -- the older two do a fine job of driving me crazy without adding a crying baby into the mix, I still want to be done. I want my fingers and ankles not to be swollen. I want my back to stop aching. I want to stop feeling like the bones of my pelvis are ripping themselves in two. I'm exhausted.
It's nine o'clock -- hours before I usually fall asleep, but as Miss Crankypants I'm declaring an early night and I hope to find that in the morning the world will seem a little happier and brighter -- even if I still will be tired, swollen, pregnant and surrounded by whining children.
I agree with Melissa. And just remember, all that bodily yuckiness (aching back, swollen parts, pelvic pain, etc.) goes away on the other side of The Day That Will Be. Of course, then you'll have to contend with non-sleep. But, speaking as someone who has just emerged from that state, I can safely say that it is infinitely better than being pregnant. So look ahead and know that it is almost over! Yay!! :)
Terry linked to a picture of Michael J. Fox and John Kerry, which reminds me of something I heard on NPR this morning. I'm quoting from memory, but Morning Edition's quick blurb about the town hall meeting included something along these lines, "Fox, who played a young Reagan Republican in the 1980s, now has Parkinson's Disease and supports stem cell research."
Family Ties was a fun show to watch, but I don't recall ever thinking that just because Alex P. Keaton was a Republican that Michael J. Fox was -- any more than I thought he really travelled back in time when the flux capacitor in his car hit 1.21 gigawatts. Apparently playing a Republican gives him credentials though, from which he has "grown" now that he's older, wiser and sick. I wish Fox the best of luck in his fight against Parkinson's, although I don't support his support of stem cell research, but I think NPR could have written their blurb better.
I wish Fox the best in his fight against Parkinson's, although I don't support his support of stem cell research.,
With all due respect, it's difficult to do both at once with any sincerity.
Some recommended reading:
Small Molecules that Induce Cardiomyogenesis in Embryonic Stem Cells
Wu, X.; Ding, S.; Ding, Q.; Gray, N. S.; Schultz, P. G.;
J. Am. Chem. Soc.; (Communication); 2004; 126(6); 1590-1591.
Dopamine neurons derived from embryonic stem cells function in an animal model of Parkinson's disease Jong-Hoon Kim, Jonathan M Auerbach, Jose A Rodriguez-Gomez, Ivan Velasco, et al. Nature. London: Jul 4, 2002.Vol.418, Iss. 6893; pg. 50
Embryonic stem cells develop into functional dopaminergic neurons after transplantation in a Parkinson rat model. Lars M Bjorklund, Rosario Sanchez-Pernaute, Sangmi Chung, Therese Andersson, et al. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America. Washington: Feb 19, 2002.Vol.99, Iss. 4; pg. 2344
Functional Recovery Following Spinal Cord Injury in the Rat and Mouse
M.A. Lane 1 , K. Sharp 2 , K.M. Dziegielewska 1 , O. Steward 2 and N.R. Saunders 3
1 Pathology, and 3 Anatomy & Physiology, University of Tasmania, GPO Box 252-29, Hobart. Reeve-Irvine Research Center, University of California Irvine, CA, 92697-4292
Incidetally, embryonic stem cells are already an integral part of the in vitro fertilization process, used to help infertile couples conceive.
There is some research in adult stem cells and their possibilities. But one way or another, using a method that requires killing a human life, no matter how small and defenseless that life was, is never going to be something I support, even if that means a cure is never found for certain diseases.
It is Monday morning and I need to work on a task I hate more than grocery shopping with two children, one of whom is really a grouchy monkey in disguise. I need to go through my cookbooks and figure out what we are going to eat this week, figure out what we have and what we need and write a grocery list. I sometimes try to involve Justin in this task, but generally speaking it is my baby. With a real baby coming soon this is especially true, because I'm mostly looking for recipes that can be made with less than 15 minutes on my feet and that I feel like eating -- and I don't feel like eating anything these days -- except when I feel like eating everything (but nothing we happen to have in the house, of course).
I love trying new recipes, but right now is not the time to play the gourmand. I also feel compelled to make as many things as possible that will have freezable leftovers for later when no one wants to cook. I have plenty of good fast recipes, but all the old stand-bys are old, tired and or at least I'm tired of them.
There are plenty of places out there where you can buy cookbooks and meal planning services that will give you your grocery lists and all your recipes in a package so you don't have to plan. The problem is I've never found one that offered an entire week's worth of things I actually want to eat. So back to planning.
Will we do penne and pesto again for the umpteenth week in a row? Are quesadillas ever off the menu? Who knows what exciting adventures await? I suppose some day I might be organized enough to create a cycle of meals that I actually like and their corresponding grocery lists, but until then anything goes.
Are you at the point of turning to the crockpot cookbooks? The main problem with crockpot cookery is that everything tends to cook into a lumpy glop, so it comes down to how you season the glop. They do make meal-making fairly quick and easy.
I have one whole cookbook devoted to crock pot cooking and several others that have crock pot recipes in them. Maybe I'm just too picky, but the only things I make in a crock pot that I like are beef stew and pot roast. I've been disappointed by everything else.
The kids and I went out and watered the garden, which although still necessary seems so futile at this point, when everything looks terrible and the dog has done in half the things I've planted.
If I want things to go better next year I'm going to have to do more research and planning. I think this site will be useful -- or at least it looks like it will be on first glance.
Two things you might want to think about: 1) the actual aspect of your lot (shade, sun, direction of light, slope, drainage, and more); 2) what the climate (and microclimates) will bear. In my experience, in some ways "1" matters most, mainly because of its impact on microclimates.
They can be a bunch of fusty old 4arts, but garden clubs and extension services can be really good local help. The local aspect matters a lot and can often be pretty hard to get a handle on.
Thanks for the suggestions, Patricia. I think I'm good at considering the light where I'm planting, but I'm still learning to think about other things and especially to consider my lack of enthuasiasm for watering in the middle of the summer.
The major problem though is our dog. I think my best bet for filling in areas where he runs is to put in some large pots. I've already put in one in a place he was constantly trampling and it looks better than it has in a long time.
Water really does matter and, without drip lines, it can be drudgery. You might consider some of the xeric (or moderately xeric) plants for your zone. These need help to get established, but then -- Katy, bar the door.
Maybe, too, come next summer the Boy will be just gagging for a job outside ;-) I say that only partly in jest. By doing things like blossom counts (how many different things are in bloom today?) Daughter OotFP learned about and took an interest in the garden. Blossom counts are not gonna do it for Boy, at all, but perhaps learning to tell beneficial bugs from the harmful ones and being given leave to dispatch the latter... ;-)
Pots are great. If you have cats in the area, the cats always enjoy them, too ;-)
I found my Dog does not like to nap or walk where there are sharp chunky stones. It's a simple defense but it seems to work and doesn't harm most plants.
I only water when things are very dire. I found that if I give my plants water, they become dependent on it. Can't have that happening. Of course, when a plant is in a pot, it has to be watered, but when they are in the ground, they can usually get by unless there is a serious drought.
I saw another car with a W '04 sticker on it at The Boy's school today. This was an amazing discovery -- especially since the car belongs to one of the leaders of the parent organization. I haven't ever talked the guy, but I feel like I have a compatriot.
I'm not sending my son to that kind of private school. This is more the type for long haired, vegan hippies than the Lily Pulizter wearing parents with servants.
But on that note, I did laugh the other day when I drove past a yard with the Kerry sign that was having lawn care done by a guy with a Bush sticker on his truck.
There isn't a recipe from me in there, but the seventh Carnival of the Recipes is up at Food Basics. Remember if you want to enter, send a link to a recipe on your blog or a recipe if you don't have a blog of your own to recipe.carnival(at)gmail.com.
And now for this week's recipe from yours truly. This one came from The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook. It is a nice one to get kids involved in making. My two year old can't help much, in fact we made it while she was napping, but my four year old loves reading the recipe to keep us on track, juicing the oranges and lemon, dumping everything together, and helping to peel the apples. He's fairly risk averse and was good at following my directions with a peeler, so no skin went missing in the process. With other children -- probably like The Girl, I wouldn't let them near a peeler at age four unless I wanted a little blood and tears added into the food.
A friend of mine, who is more into health food than I am, didn't think she's like to make an applesauce with sugar. I will say that this is a dessert-y applesauce that goes well with vanilla ice cream, but I suspect that if you left out the lemon juice you probably wouldn't need as much or any sugar. That's for someone else to try though. I like all the sugar I can get.
Applesauce
Zest and juice of two oranges
Zest and juice of one lemon
3 lbs Granny Smith Apples (6-8)
3 lbs sweet red apples, such as McIntosh
1/2 cup light brown sugar
1/4 pound unsalted butter
2 teaspoons cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon allspice
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
Combine the citrus zests and juice in a large bowl. Peel, core and slice the apples and stir them into the juice mixture. Pour fruit into a large baking dish that can be covered while baking. Add remaining ingredients, cover and bake for 1 1/2 hours or until apples are soft. Whisk apples to an apple sauce consistency. Serve warm or at room temperature.
Jordana Adams, Chief Pontificator