Changing Tack

Confession of the Week:
I am eating for two. No, I am not pregnant, but in an effort to explain I will admit that we are trying. The issue seems to be that I have spent the last two weeks ramping up my daily calorie intake in preparation for… losing it. WHAT? You say? Shouldn’t it be the reverse? You eat for two when you actually GET pregnant? Yeah, well not so much in this case. Not only have I busted myself snacking on what I prepare for the Huckster- grilled cheese, Dr. Praeger’s Spinach Littles (yum) – but I also seem to be stuffing what will soon be banned delicacies into my pie hole. Rare burgers, smoked salmon, hot dogs, bloody marys, sushi, you name it. Its disgusting really. It’s like filling up with unfortunately over priced highway gas because you know this is the last station for 100 miles and if you don’t fill up now you will be stranded on the side of the road. Needless to say that at the almost exact 2 week mark of this pre-pregnancy gluttony I reached my saturation point. It may have been the fact that I started to see the muffin top start to creep back over my waistband, or that I had successfully run the gamut of hopefully soon to be exiled foods, but all in all- it was a FABULOUS two weeks!


DIY Job / Craft of the week:
H’s first Easter basket – you last saw it primed – and am loving it. After reaching what I thought was the end point I then went and screwed it up by trying to add whiskers and a little more detail only to hate the end result thereby having to go back and repaint a lot of it, but its done. YAY! For the record I took these photos this morning - it was a blustery 40 degrees - boooo

Recipe of the week:
Beef Lo Mein –this is a guilty pleasure – I love Chinese food, but hate Chinese take out joints, they just freak me out. We made this week’s recipe from the Food Network and quickly found out why they call for low- sodium soy sauce – using regular octane soy took this from LoMein to LoMean but it was finger swelling good. And, after a guzzling a boatload of water I was right as rain and craving more.

Beef Lo Mein
Recipe from The Food Network website – Robin Miller

Ingredients
* 12 ounces Lo Mein noodles – I really like the frozen Wegman’s noodles the best.
* 2 teaspoons sesame oil
* 2 teaspoons minced fresh ginger
* 2 cloves garlic, minced
* 12 ounces grilled beef, cut into 1/4-inch pieces
* 8 grilled scallions, chopped
* 1 cup snow peas - julienned
* 1/3 cup shredded carrots
* 3/4 cup reduced-sodium beef broth
* 1/4 cup reduced-sodium soy sauce
* 1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro leaves – we omitted this due to my husband’s intense aversion to Cilantro but I am sure it would add a nice fresh touch if you like the flavor of cilantro.

Directions

•Cook the noodles according to package directions , Drain and set aside. When using the Wegmans noodles, we don’t pre-cook them- we let them cook through in the wok.
•Meanwhile, heat the sesame oil in a Wok or large skillet. Add ginger and garlic and saute 1 minute. Add beef, scallions, snow peas and carrots and saute 1 minute. Add broth and soy sauce and bring to a simmer and cook 5 minutes, until carrots are soft. Add noodles and let heat through. Toss with cilantro.

Triumph of the week:
For Me: I showered – no joke, don’t cringe- it was nearly 3 days between. I feel like a whole new woman and I think my husband wants to talk to me again which helps with that whole trying to conceive another baby thing mentioned above.

For Baby H: This walking thing has really picked up- he can now walk almost the length of our living room before realizing it – thereby falling down. He is getting a big kick out of doing it now – which is really hilarious to watch.


Needlepoint Design of the Week:
This is a baby pillow I did for one of oldest and closest girlfriends - it remains one of my favorite baby pillow designs I have done. BUT - don't laugh when I tell you that after all of the design work, the stitching work and then having it finished she told me I got the date wrong- DOH! Yeah, REALLY on the ball with that one. I have every intention of changing it somehow but just have to pin her down to get it back.

Urgh... spring blues

Have you ever felt isolated? Bored? Alone? I am not trying to quote a self help infomercial here- I am describing life as a mommy in the deep burbs of a major metro area.

Don’t get me wrong- we LOVE where we live- our little house called “the Holler” that we outgrew before we even got married, and is now busting at the seams so much so that boxes of past season clothes are practically oozing out the windows – that we probably won’t ever leave because it would be a rarity to ever find someone (sucker) adventurous enough to take on the treacherous spiral stairs, outdated appliances (that work better than most new btw) and lack of storage. But the reality is that when you live somewhere that you really really love, and you love it because it is away from the madness and drama and rush of more populated areas – it sucks. There I said it- it sucks. All the time? Definitely NOT...but there tends to be those days here and there that the suck-o-meter really picks up momentum and the only thing you can do to quell it is to scroll through real estate listings and dream of what life would be like in an actual neighborhood. Or close enough to friends that you can pop over for a play date or visit and not have to completely throw baby’s nap schedule out the window for the day because it takes you 30 minutes to get to and from and he falls asleep within 28 minutes.

I knew going in that I would no doubt be my happiest and loneliest ever living out here. But I never realized that the beginning year or two of raising a child in an area that in no way truly caters to those with very young children would be borderline impossible.

Its not that there are not things to do- there are parks, trails, farms, and our little Hamlet that is being marketed as rapidly growing into the next “hot spot” but is still funky enough to completely miss the mark. What the HECK do mothers with barely walking babies in the boonies do?? Going to the park is great- but unless I want the poor kid to spend his hour plus crawling around among the moldy wood chips, there isn’t much to do- swing? Sure that’s great for like 5 minutes. Go for a walk? Sure, but that’s really only for me, not the baby- he has to sit in the stroller while I pace around the trails trying to keep him from breaking down into a screaming fussing, writhing tantrum because he is …well… stuck in his stroller and would no doubt rather be crawling and stumbling back and forth from toy to toy, room to room at home – or ANYwhere for that matter. The kid wants to MOVE so being a spectator for mommy’s walk does little at this point for him or me right now.

I know that this is a temporary issue- that he will be fully walking before we know it and the weather will be warm, and rather than wondering what store we can go to I can spend my day with him trying to be sure he doesn’t play with and / or eat the dog poop from the yard or fall into the creek.

Confession #2 or 3 of the day - This is less about him and more about me - this is mommy boredom at its finest. Sitting on the floor and playing day in day out while trying to squeeze in the 4th load of laundry of the day and figuring out what to make for dinner (grilled shrimp tonight by the way) is taxing.- and mundane compared to a former life of full tilt work and social schedule. I will find the balance, I am sure of it- its just these transition times that are the real doozies.

So with that in mind- I fully plan to use my transition time – at least today – to include some fun things I am going to try to do to pass the time and make the day not feel less mom oriented and more Martha oriented. My only other alternative s to watch “extreme Couponing” on TLC and teach myself to save enough money to be the financial equivalent of a secondary income. Oh heck, who knows- maybe one day I will pull this blog together enough to try and make some money out of it so we can go from scouring real estate listings to realistically considering moving to a neighborhood.

Easter Fun:

1)Love these crepe paper carrots from Martha Stewart- I think I am going to make them for our 3rd annual Easter Luncheon at the Holler and maybe double their purpose up to also be place card holders in some way. I will keep you posted.

2)Egg Cakes- It is my goal this year to make my own Easter Egg Cakes. IF I can actually find the time to pull it together, in addition to everything else (like planting the back patio beds)then it should be great. This pic is from Williams Sonoma and I have no doubt mine will not remotely resemble this - which oddly matches my blog background nicely. You can judge for yourself if I remember to take a picture.

3)Baby’s first Easter Basket- So, I cant find an Easter Basket that I love for the boy’s first Easter – something cool and great enough that he can use year in and year out (no idea where it will be stored the other 364 days of the year) so I have decided to paint my own for him. I bought a basic flat weave basket from Michael’s Arts and Crafts , and have gotten as far as priming it and mapping out the design. More pics of this ongoing project to follow.





4)Easter outfits: Girls are more fun to dress up for Easter- I am not saying from experience but from just pure unadulterated jealousy of Easter dresses, bonnets bows and mary janes. This year H is going to sport a snappy smocked romper and mommy will pray that the temps are warm enough that he doesn’t freeze his still chubby little legs off. This pic is of this adorable Luli and Me romper (pic from Best Dressed Child) that I got for H but he probably wont be able to wear until next Easter.

Wait for it… wait for it… WALKING!!!

Well not officially off and running on his own yet, but our little Boysie took his first solo steps this weekend- YAY! And uh oh.  He hasn’t done it much since save for a few stumbly steps here and there when we try and entice him with something usually forbidden like a USB cord, or the cordless phone but it’s clicking – you can see his little (actually big judging by the head circ. % that the doctor took today) brain working- the wheels turning. YAY! Now I am ready, ready for toddler-dom. I think…

Today is 73 degrees outside and I am finding it hard to motivate to do anything. Not sure why, exhaustion, so much to do so little time. I remember when H was a baby and things would get too loud and he would essentially just “shut down” close his eyes and just go to sleep – he probably could have done it in the middle of a demolition derby if we would have ventured there (we didn’t btw).  – But I think I am suffering from a similar issue right now- spring is here, there is SO much to do that I may be mentally shutting down. Trying to juggle playing with H, getting the garden in, fast approaching holiday, playing, working, trying to see friends, walking, working, playing, and so forth is flat out exhausting. The only thing I long for right now is a nap.. a really long one. Of course Add to it the ridiculous fact that I have every intention of painting Henley an Easter basket, making a moss covered wreath, blowing out eggs to decorate for Easter this year, still have to steam clean the carpet in the living room, figure out if I am going to make or buy new outdoor cushions this year (probably buy) and them some. Why? Well, mainly because I have little better to do other than overload myself with craft projects in the thick of an already schedule heavy spring. I am mother, hear me roar- I CAN do it all, and I will prove it. Although I may go down trying so stay tuned.

I do have something however to share- a good friend of one of my oldest and bestest girls has a children’s party business. So despite the fact that for 2 years now I have been on the fence about trying to possibly transfer my event planning expertise into this area more formally and that b/c of that she is totally cutting my lunch I will also flat out say that she ROCKS. If I DID ever wind up taking my business this route- this is what I imagined it being – but hers is better because I don’t have to do a thing – she’s pulled it all together. Here is a link to her stuff… check it out lonely reader and soak it in!! Her name is Corinn and her company (with her sister Ashley) is Corley Designs- http://www.corleydesigns.com/

My mom and I have also been searching high and low for leather sandals for children- the traditional kind that we all (at least in our family) wore growing up and where the best darn thing since sliced bread – we used to call them “Sandies” but I have no idea where to begin looking these days. Stride Rite makes a similar shoe but I haven’t seen it in person yet so cant whole heartedly say that I have completed the mission. 

I have every intention of staying on track looking – because I have plenty of time.

Long Lost

Oh, where have you been my long lost friend… at least that’s what I would imagine an adoring(and imaginary) blog “fan club” would be saying to me right now. It’s been too long. I have thought about apologizing (to myself) or trying to come up with a few great well worded excuses for my absence but here is the deal- other than being a new mom – I don’t have any great excuses – that’s it. Time passes uber quickly and next thing I know it its been 9 months – okay actually 13 months -  since I last wrote. It could be deemed a period of mental gestation, and I have birthed not a baby this time, but Adonis DNA / warlock blood level guilt.

With that said- I am over it.  

We’ve been busy here, seriously. And in an effort to catch myself up (for personal reasons not for my adoring public) here is a brief summarized list of what has happened in the last 13 months:

• Worked all last spring and grew a big round belly - like Orca huge belly towards the end.
• Got over baby not being a girl and got REALLY excited about welcoming a baby boy.
• In one of the warmest early summers in the history of summer our little one arrived on July 3^rd- YAY! Just shy of a yankee doodle dandy!
• The temp seemed to keep rising and my feet seemed to keep swelling (no one told me that they get BIGGER right after you give birth - thanks for that).
• We started the new back patio – yippee!
• Baby ate and ate and so he grew – and at 8 months he’s now a size 2 (OK that’s a stretch but not too far from the truth … it rhymed)
•  I am not sure what else other than laughing, eating, sleeping, pooping, laughing, crying, rolling over, sitting up, laughing, etc. we did or experienced last summer to 2011 that I can pass along… its like a hangover - you know that something happened the night before but you really aren’t sure exactly what. But this time its less college level “leaving your dignity in the gutter outside your favorite bar” and more trying to remember a really fun vacation years after the fact.
• We did of course take over 500 photos of our newest addition in the first 3 months alone. But out of the 500+ I think there may be MAYBE 6-8 with us, his PARENTS in them.
• Fall & winter came and then so did the snow and the before we knew it  - it was the holidays – wham bam thank you MA'AM.
• Stopped the back patio for 3 months b/c  well … we couldn’t see it under the perma-foot-o-snow.
• The dogs ate our grill.
• Uh- oh, T turned the big 4-0h. I turned 36 but actually didn't realize it - for the last few months I have vehemently been convinced in my own mind that I will be turning 35 in 2011 - yep, that's right - it has begun.
• Buddy nipped the oil delivery man in the knee – nice.
• H started daycare – and I reclaimed a few days a week to start working and to try and get a FEW things done…. booo responsibility but yay freedom!
• We squeaked through January and February relatively unscathed save for H’s first serious cold immediately followed by his first GI bug (yuck) immediately followed by mine, then T’s. Triple yuck.
• Buddy nipped the fed ex man in the rear as he was hauling his you know what up our driveway  in a crazy sprint to get away – urgh.
• Along the way and in between viral infections H started to crawl – “watch out world here me come!”
• T and I took a WELL deserved mommy and daddy only vacation (H stayed with Grana & Granddaddy) in Florida. It took us 12 hours to figure out what to do with ourselves. For the record, I slept until 9 am TWICE - for the first time in a year at the least- YAY me!
• Back patio started back up- and almost done- YAY Paco & Sebastian!!
• We returned home to a brief spell of spring weather- and started getting really excited for the coming months - then the rug pulled out from under us and here we are back at freezing. Booooooo mother nature.
• Taylor rigs to grill (which until now was still out of commission) and we can once again cook outside - our favorite!
• Despite the return of the cold- I ordered my new raised beds- YAY veggies!

I think that at least puts me close enough back to the present. Not sure where to go from here yet but there you have it- I’m back.

And so it begins

Last weekend was the first weekend that I actually, emotionally felt like there is a baby on the way. Not to say I haven’t known.. on the contrary- that has been clear from day one – the first trimester mood swings that were grounds for temporary insanity, the onset of second trimester loveliness such as heartburn and food aversions and cravings... and the lesser known and more taken for granted things that are associated with daily tasks that are now inhibited by this growing being inside me – previously underappreciated movement such as easily bending down; sleeping through the night; the ability to take a deep breath, and so forth that have in the last few weeks prompted the start of a list titled “things I wish I could still do with ease”. But up until our amnio and getting the results back there has been a sort of hidden harboring of fear, a weird sense of non-reality that has been lurking out there. Well- it’s gone!


While of course we always will keep that type of thought carefully tucked away at the back of our minds, the real deal of preparing for baby has begun. It was a weekend filled with oven roasted pulled pork , a big old hunk of filet last night that wasn’t cooked to the point of being a hockey puck and was something out of my wildest dreams, and the MOST long awaited part of all- the start of baby shopping!

Now in my hey-day I was known to be able to rationalize the purchase of any item- necessary or not.. $500 on a pair of pink satin stilettos? Sure! No sweat, you would be surprised at the number of uses you could get out of THOSE... $350 to get highlights done every 4 weeks, a MUST..weekly manicures and pedicures at $60+ a pop? Duh... but now things are different. Not to say that these above tasks have been forgotten, but dropping a car payment on a pair of shoes has now been replaced with adding them to an ever growing wish-list and in their pink passion place is pale paint for the nursery. Mani’s and pedi’s to pretty myself up have been swapped for do it yourself soaks and polish and picking fabric for window treatments and crib bedding(going with a preppy but uber ‘soon to be a big boy before we know it’ preppy royal navy / a grassy kelly green and white by the way ).

But in the throes of all of this planning, painting and preparation there is still a part of me that is remaining from the first trimester and that is the financially sensitive girl who had put off or found alternative resources for all of the afore mentioned splurges in order to squirrel away our precious duckets for the good stuff that I have dreamt about – a nursery. So now faced with crib shopping, fabric buying, room designing, what art to put on the walls and details to incorporate there is a part of the rationalization me that is having a hard time swallowing the expense associated with having our first child. I mean $400 for a crib? First knee jerk reaction - YIKES! Back up thought process that I am fighting with now... $400 is nothing.. I mean nada in the grand scheme of things and especially since I have been looking at these items online for weeks, months, years. Now it is time I should be thankful that the crib I desire is only $400... and not the $1200 version that I also looked at and decided that no fiscally conservative or aware parent should allow their small child to lay their precious head on.. unless you are the child of a celebrity or ridiculously loaded - who this stuff is OBVIOUSLY made for... but wait- couldn’t I rationalize everything? Didn’t I? I am fighting with my inner-self over money for a crib when previously I had no problem spending a boatload of hard earned pennies on frivolous things in the world of shoes that I realistically wore once and are currently taking up space in the closet? This is a CRIB for crying out loud- something that heir Goetz will sleep in for a loooong time! So I am now faced with the task of re-learning to rationalize... what to spend money on, what to ask to borrow, what to wait for as a gift... this is a whole new realm, It’s like planning a wedding on crack. Now it is not just a new part of OUR lives we are starting but we are building the groundwork for someone else’s.

Will he know what his crib costs? No... will he care about the color scheme in his nursery / room? Absolutely not- I could paint the damn room fuchsia and chartreuse and he will probably still be happy. Will I? Absolutely not.. so I bring this on myself- the reorganization of thought process and approach to spending... not to go nuts and have a show house-ready room ripe for a photo shoot, but to have a space that feels like a comfy, warm, womb of its own to start this little boy’s life and nurture and grow and build memories in. Urgh.. and I thought I had learned it all  Anyway, off today for lunch with mom mother and future sister in law then to Franklin Mills to scour the racks for things only a grandmother should drop dough on – Can’t wait!!!

And the pork turned out great by the way – which, considering I have been having problems eating anything rich or with flavor for that matter recently was a coup.. Recipe is below.

Whew, are we finding a balance here? God I hope so.



Slow Roasted Pulled Pork

1 Medium Sized Pork Roast

2 Tbslp Canola Oil

1 Tsp Smoked paprika

½ Tsp Salt

2 Tsp Ground Cumin

¼ Tsp Ground Cayenne Pepper

1 Tblsp Liquid Smoke (Cheater sauce)

2 Tsps Ground White Pepper

½ Yellow / Sweet Onion sliced thinly

8 Ounces of Apple Juice

2 Ounces of Apple Cider Vinegar

1 Cup of BBQ sauce of your choice- If you want a more bbq flavor- the pref. Should have a smoky flavor- this time around I used Stubbs Mesquite.


• Preheat your Oven to 325 Degrees

• In a bowl combine the spices and liquid smoke.

• Heat the Oil in a Dutch Oven (Cast Iron or Enameled Le Crueset). When it is almost smoking add the pork roast and sear brown on all sides.

• Remove the roast from the pan and set aside. Add in the Onions and sauté until browned.

• While these onions are browning – baste the seared pork with your spice mixture.

• When the onions are nice and brown deglaze the pan with the apple cider vinegar. Make sure to get all of the good pork bits off the bottom of the pan. When simmering, add the basted pork roast back to the pan and move around to incorporate the seasonings into the liquid.

• Add in the apple juice and stir until combined. When simmering , cover the pot and transfer to the oven. Let cook covered for 2 hours at 325 then reduce heat, move lid to the slide a little to vent and cook for another hour at 300. Be sure to check it every 45 minutes or so and flip the meat as necessary and stir the sauce it is cooking in.

• Remove from the oven and let stand a minute or so to cool jus a smidge. When you are ready to work with it, take a fork and break apart the pork meat and incorporate into the sauce. If using - Add in the BBQ sauce and stir to combined – season to your liking with more BBQ, salt / pepper etc.

• If you MUST serve immediately – heat the Dutch oven on the stovetop burner (medium heat to start) and let simmer a little until heated all the way through and the bbq sauce is up to temp.
• The preferred way is to let the pork marinate for a little in the juices and bbq sauce. Then just before serving bring up to a light simmer/ heat on the stove top.

Serve on big old buns with Southern coleslaw and extra bbq if you want.

Martha Stewart can kiss my....

I have a long standing love / hate relationship with Martha Stewart. This is by no means a personal contact type of relationship- we haven’t sneered at each other from across a restaurant as our girlfriends back us up with witty and evil repartee, I never tripped her in a hallway or put a laxative in her coffee while smiling brightly saying “what a great idea Martha!”  This is all on me – she has no idea who I am.

From the day I found out who Martha was about 15 years ago I have harbored this deep seeded form of competitive dislike for the woman. She is perky, she has these insanely great ideas that when you watch her, or see them in the glossy page print of one of her countless magazines or books you think, “DANG IT - I COULD HAVE COME UP WITH THAT!” Even though you didn’t…”Martha” did. 

The gist is, the bitch does everything right – perfectly in fact. Her slightly accented and poised voice telling you how (insert a typical Martha-esque lock jaw here) to do things HER way… the ‘look down her nose’ way she tells you, the viewer or reader (this is possible if you are Martha- to look down your nose at someone in print) and pretends to surreptitiously share her secret to making the perfect mid week goat cheese soufflé. Or how to actually tie greens during the holidays so they don’t come apart every third day and die a needley death on your floor in front of astonished and flabbergasted guests…  or how to make scones using the eggs from your own chickens that you get up at 5 am to get in order to have these warm steamy sugary treats on the table before your first family member even stops dreaming of sleeping more – I say this and we HAVE chickens- and it still makes me nuts.  Anyway, you name it- she has always just irked me.

I come from a mother who is uber-crafty. I mean REALLY crafty - crafty to the point where, if she and Martha were to go head to head back in the day it would have been a toss up who would have come out on top- My mom was WAY more realistic though, which may have done her in (that and she never publically tried to be crafty- she just WAS / Is).

So - What i am trying to say is that I have a serious history of do-it-yourself in me : decorating, cooking, creative brainstorming… you name it- which is actually the main reason I became an event planner, darn it -  to single handedly make parties prettier one glitter dipped and preserved Hydrangea Macrophylla at a time. I mean come on Martha- BRING it.

So it is with a heavy heart and head hung low that I write this post. Because, dear friend (to the one reader I may realistically have - which oddly makes admitting this so much easier) I am here to admit the unthinkable. The personal travesty of my creative lifetime - I secretly LOVE Martha.

Okay, in the recent months I have been coming to terms with this on my own. Enough inner personal therapy and little voices that say to me – it’s O.K. to like the woman (Note: and her staff because we all KNOW that they are the ones who actually DO all of the work and sourcing and creative brainstorming and I KNOW she just signs off on these insanely fabulous ideas that her “peeps’ snake from unsuspecting crafters nationwide).

I have reached this decision after moths of tribulation- infighting with my inner demon and angel who say at the super market check out line as I quickly thumb through each issue of Living hoping that no one sees me – “go ahead – BUY it- ooooh – look at THAT – a hand tied garland of paper flowers with ribbon leaves and stems! How great!!!” And the demon who on the other shoulder says “put it back Pippa- enough is enough,  you don’t need her ideas – you have your own… nothing good can come of putting that in your cart!”

99.9999% of the time the angel wins- and curiosity gets the best of me. And until recently- I would bring these magazines or books home…and hide them. Under other magazines, in amongst the throngs of cookbooks I already own… anywhere but out in the open where I would have to admit that she was right, that she rocks, that I read her, and / or pay attention to her… I’ll be damned if I let THAT woman get the best of me.

Well, you’ve won Martha- I am officially, and publicly out of the closet …I dig your stuff.  I have reached this decision through many months of trial and, frustratingly, no error. Attempting countless recipes that all infuriatingly WORK perfectly (including this year’s Christmas cookies, and the damn popovers that I made the other night from this month’s issue that despite being pretty much the same recipe I have used for years rose sky high and more beautifully than ANY I have made before – URGH!) . After realizing that I don’t just ogle your do-it-yourself crafts from the safety of the checkout lane - but have actually been doing them. After I find myself sitting in the Michael’s craft store parking lot going over my list of Martha products to pick up and then standing in the aisle drooling over the snowflake hole punch that no one in their right mind ever should own as at $19.99 a pop it is a frivolous expense– but I do.  You win. I use your recipes, I do your crafts and love the results… and I could cry. Of course on the contrary, if you ever decide to retire and would like someone to take over the business- call me – I’m available.

Inside the Gift horse’s mouth…

So not to be picky, or take the fact that our amnio results came back today and we aced everything (yah!) and are expecting what we know to be a healthy baby… I am feeling very guilty… and I mean VERY. Please pause as I try and recall for you the conversation with the cute genetic testing girl on the other end.

Her: "Your amnio results look great you have blah blah blah for results.. which is GREAT! (insert super chipper sweet voice here).”

Me: 'Fabulous! I am so happy! '

Her: "The last question is- would you like to know the sex of the baby?"

Me: (Giddy and so excited I feel like I might pee my pants - the moment of truth, the one we have been waiting for..) 'YES!'

Her: "It’s a …. BOY! Congratulations! "

Me: 'Oh… darn... I mean - really? Great!(somewhat fake enthusiasm)Thank you so Much!'

Me again - Hang up phone and want to cry… mope for two seconds, call husband to “share the great news”. Get same type of response I gave cute genetic testing girl, granted he WAS in a meeting.

There is a lesson to be learned here, I just don’t want to admit it quite yet… I can say it though- don’t look a gift horse in the mouth because when you do you will see ugly oat chomping teeth and smell hay breath.

I am happy - I AM!! ... I promise… we will hopefully have all stars align and have a healthy baby, and at 35 that is a LOT to ask for… but a BOY? We were convinced we were having a girl…and I really wanted it to be a girl. I am sure we may receive a few therapy bills for this poor child in the future if and when he finds out that we really wanted a girl.

Not to say a boy is BAD. Nothing close to that at ALL. But, honestly, as far as I have ever known (until now of course) boys play with trucks, they eat worms and bring home snakes (the latter of which is my LEAST favorite thing in the world), their pants fall down and they don’t like being fussed with to look nice. Boys don’t wear pretty smocked party dresses with matching bows in their hair, they don’t want to play dress up with mommy’s high heels and play with her lipstick or dolls and fairies and make frilly iced cookies and oogle over shades of pink and read Madeline and Eloise (well most boys anyway)!

So, today I have been getting used to the fact that my husband is excited to teach “the boy” how to fart, how to properly aim a gun, pee outside, bait a hook and all of those “man” things that require one on one ‘dad and lad’ bonding time. Actually, not a bad thing if you think about it.  I might actually get a little ME time out of this first child.. wait- this isn’t sounding so bad at all! Boys and their mothers usually have a very close bond, so not only do I get that rockstar part of things, daddy can take him to the firehouse and mom can maybe do something like get a pedicure, shave her legs, read a few pages of a book!

All in all, this boy thing is getting better by the minute- and who know, with all fingers crossed this wont be our last little one so my chances for party dresses and pink ribbons are not gone for good, just taking a backseat so we can raise her a fabulous older brother who will nurture her and protect her just like big brothers do.

Can you hear me now?

As we wait semi- patiently for the results of our amnio to come back (this is KILLING us by the way), and as we try to do the million and one small tasks that have been sitting on the home repair t- do list before the appraiser comes this week, I have let my mind wander to the more than un-documentable amount of advice I might potentially offer to our soon-to-be born child and any that may potentially follow. I am sure that this is common. At least I keep telling myself that other mothers to be MUST think of this type of thing- or obsess over it such as I feel like I am suddenly doing.

Aside from not running with scissors, sitting too close to the television, not turning the volume up too loud or you’ll go deaf type of motherly advice, I have realized that there are small life lessons that I might be able to osmosis-ly pass on to our baby in advance. I mean if you can fire up a baby speaker and blast baby Einstein type stuff into the old belly than why cant I try to spread a little wisdom? Yes, this seems to fall into the sort of a “if I knew then what I know now” type of approach f parenting.

So if I had to write down these pseudo life- lessons, or speak them, or think them and our baby would listen, what would I actually SAY? Is there a limit? Is this one of those, baby can only absorb so many things at once so try and keep it to less than a handful a day type of situations? Maybe… so for today here are my life lessons:


•    Never schedule meetings before 10 am if you can avoid it.

•    Always call your parents and see them whenever you can regardless of anything that you might try and use as an excuse – trust me on this one.

•    When you spill water on your keyboard do NOT try and use a hairdryer to speed the drying process- it will melt.

•    Girls love flowers- from anyone, and for any reason. I bought myself tulips this weekend and cant stop staring at them.  If you are a boy – buy girls flowers often. If you are a girl- don’t wait for someone to buy you flowers - as nice as that seems and as much as you think that they will regardless of who they are – just get them for yourself and your day will automatically be brightened.

•    Don’t bite the ankles of bikers passing by. They are not trying to take over the world one suburban property at a time- they are just out for a joy ride. We all like to do different things to make us feel happy- don’t chase after or nip someone if they are doing something you don’t know how to do or understand. (This one is direct from Boudreau our black lab who is now on a 10 day quarantine for biting a cyclist over the weekend. He apologizes profusely and admits he never thought he would actually “catch one”.

Love, Mom

Oh yes, and I finally found a little love for cooking again this weekend after what feels like weeks of reheated meals and carbo-loading... homemade tomato soup for dinner last night- yummmmmm, tiramisu (thank you uber-basic Giada DeLaurentis food network recipe for reminding me of the simple process of making such heavenly goodness) - my rainy sunday night was complete.

Oops ... I Did It Again!

Nope, I am not channeling Britney here, more so apologizing (to myself maybe?) for allowing yet another long lapse in writing happen. The holidays were great:  hectic, organized chaos that reoccurs annually and stresses us all out just enough to complain but not enough to change our plans each year - yet anyway.

Aside from holiday cookie baking(the most things I have actually cooked/baked/made and not just reheated or fumbled through in weeks), present wrapping, on the road again silliness and all of the accoutrement that are associated with the holidays- this year I had a small "and possibly insignificant to the outside world, but means something to me so I'll tell you all about it" epiphany of sorts. We went, on Christmas Eve, to the Pageant at our Church in Chestnut Hill as we do every year. I will spare you the re-occurring story that my mother proudly reminds us all of every year of when I was angel Gabriel (a situation she remains far more excited about than I but none the less a landmark role as it was actually my ONLY role in a public production) and jump right to the moments that the earth shattered, the sun rose and the wind blew. It was nothing pious, nor festively spirited, (or maybe it was – you be the judge) this was a realization typical of no doubt more than an average number of pregnant women at some point along the way.

The pageant includes the little baby Jesus, the manger, the raucous townspeople (who every year crack us all up and who we all wanted to be growing up because we thought they clearly had had some holiday cheer before coming to the party and  they were, well,  adults). Each year I shuffle and  scramble to get the seat at the very end of the pew, the one on the aisle(yes, I KNOW I am 35 - thanks). “ I like to see everything” I will flatly use as my annual excuse – lie –a bold faced lie -  told in CHURCH none the less – so maybe counts as double or triple? Regardless…it's not the real reason- you can’t really SEE from that seat. You actually can’t see SQUAT from that seat actually save for the articulately sculpted pew cap (in order to see anything you actually have to be in the middle or so of the pew… note to self)..

Anyway, the pageant I long to see every year, that oddly I never actually realized until now, was the one portrayed by the countless children who also struggle to get THE seat on the aisle – the little people dressed to the nines in their holiday finery who actually DO want to see the Christmas story unfold before them. Its not just because they are adorable, their little smocked dresses and Christmas short pants make me melt, or the bows in their hair slightly askew because lets face it, they never really did stay put, I don’t care how great the barrette was – all of these are legitimate reasons on their own, and true. But this year that I realized that it is their faces I long to see. The glimmer in their eyes, the wonderment and awe that is seeing, at ground level, something so utterly intriguing unfolding before them, you see Christmas in their eyes. And not just presents or Santa, but the very true to story Grinch-like Christmas spirit that really only whole-heartedly lives inside children who believe. It is like almost like actually BEING Alice in the wonderland.  So much so that it made me tear up and shake my head in amazement.  

The Christmas Spirit was oddly not the earth shattering part. The truly moving element to the whole process was the thought process that followed- that oh my GOD in heaven… I have one of “those” growing inside me… one of “those” adorable little "I believe in Santa" things that I long to absorb into my arms and cuddle with and teach fun life-changing lessons, bake cookies with, make forts with and watch grow up to be a real live actual person is inside ME! Holy Cr*p! Yes, so the true Christmas epiphany was that (and this may be a shock to you all at this point I am sure) I am pregnant! Oh wow…

I know right? As I said- Earth Shattering! Finally at 14weeks (at the time), I figured it out. This whole “no vices” thing clicked- it became real like the velveteen rabbit becomes real… I mean holy mackerel,mother of it all, we are gonna be parents. 

This was only seconded, triplified and quadruple whammied when we got down to Florida (THANK YOU LISA & JOHN!)… Traveling for what may be the last time ALONE… seeing parents traveling with babies, small children, grown children.. uh oh..  we are becoming some of ‘those people’ – the ones with the snot-nosed kids who you don’t want to sit next to on the plane. The ones with the screaming banshees that run around like headless chickens while their parents comedicly (not actually a word, I know) carry on their conversation with their friends only to stop for a bleeding limb much to the chagrin of childless bystanders. But it is not just the “yikes” moments that make the ground rumble. It is also the moments which we/ I  have longed to one day have of our own. Little smiles. Little looks of wonder, confusion, understanding that come from that little sprout that comes maybe only to your knee.  All of these things are within our scope - soon to happen,  not someday in the future and god willing but, some actual day soon! I mean - countable days!!!!! And all I can think of right now is not the long and winding road we will have to travel to get there. Not of the madness, and sleepless nights that are going to plague us and assume control of our once semi- structured-managably- flexible-yet-organized life and will no doubt never actually end. Nor of the ‘life as we used to know it’ routine which has and will no doubt hit us over and over again as we get closer to "D" Day….all I can think right now is… how cool.

Missing: Sane mother-to-be

It’s been weeks since I have posted anything – I know: so much for starting a blog and then not “blogging”. I have been thinking about it a lot recently, but today I decided to come to terms with it. Maybe because I have been in the cruddiest mood for the last few days and I can’t seem to bake,  cook or snowshoe my way out of it so maybe writing will help. 

Not writing is the result of two issues, both as far from each other on the spectrum as Mr. Ed and Whoever the hottest young tiger-beat idol is… the twilight vampire kid? I am indifferent, but general population says otherwise. Reason one: there has been a lot going on- I have been busy, did Molly Gallagher’s wedding (gorgeous – very happy with that), work has ramped up considerably,  doing small things here and there that I CAN do to help the bathroom inch closer to being finished, complete and ready for operation – which it actually is (close to finished – not fully operational- although Lia did install our toilet on my birthday this last week- talk about a present!) , and ramping up for the holidays which on it’s own is mind blowingly stressful. Throw in a way overdue and VERY welcome new trip added to the calendar to Florida, the confusion and frustration of what to actually pack as not much fits or feels like it fits anymore; compounded with the fact that we are going in place of Uncle John an Aunt Lisa as John is still in the hospital and won’t be out until hopefully early this week, and they shouldn’t go. I don’t think life is as stressful for me as it is for Lisa these days – dogs, hospital, holidays fast approaching, hospital, kids coming and going, vacation postponing, plan making, hospital… the whole works. I can’t wait until we all hear that John is home- probably not any more that him wanting to be home! But you know what I mean- I digress. 

Anyway, I have been busy… aside from all of the above listed things, pregnancy busy is an added madness that we never seem to get relief from. Tried to go for our CVS test- twice.. no dice.. scheduled an Amnio for early January.. hurry up and wait… got blood test results back and they all look great.. wait you are doing an amnio? Well then we get to test for more stuff – stuff you have never heard of.. yep- found something-  just as we thought- you are not perfect- its insignificant, but important enough to test for and worry you with… I mean come ON people… its hard enough being pregnant and dealing with the every day ups and downs of carrying a mini me in there let alone being bombarded with this STUFF that I really don’t want to know isn’t that why I am doing an amnio? So I can know what is REAL? Urgh. At least I can have a glass or two of wine these days – that might be the ONLY thing that is working in my favor.

Reason two: and at the other end of the spectrum and weighing in at 25 pounds is that …nothing is going on. Nothing that I can share anyway. My busy is lame busy. The things that ARE actually going on have been things I have had to deal with a lot deeper than on here. Emotions running high don’t make for great reading, OR cooking apparently as I have had some real bombs over the last few weeks.  It is one of those things similar to seeing a good long lost friend who you haven’t seen in weeks, months, years , maybe since 11th grade and when you finally see them and that ask “what’s up?” you respond blandly by saying- “not much” – Bull-sh*t. That’s the response you give when you know that there is so much wheeling and dealing inside that you know it would be a complete burden to even break off a little piece and share.  Which in fact is very big of you, but also detrimental to the whole ball of string that is your being as this is a good friend, someone who you know you COULD lean on even if you have neglected to... so you bottle it up and say, “not much”.. duh- spill it!  So yes, if you effectively read between the lines I am the one bottling things up, annoyed, frustrated, worried, and scared all rolled into one ball of wax that has been avoiding all of said “nothings” to focus on being a busy body, keeping work rolling, and trying to get ready for the holidays when right now the least thing I feel like is dealing with the holidays.

Wait- I am coming to realize that I may actually be using this blog. I am using you to lament about things I can’t do, I shouldn’t do, I won’t do when really I could be talking about the really fun positive things like:  the absolutely powder perfect 9+ inches of snow we got yesterday and last night (even though my parents got almost 18!), we got a great little Christmas tree ,  I have been putting martha stewart to SHAME by baking up a cookie storm, we are out of the first trimester and have the best and most massive collection of ultrasound photos– did I say I am back to being allowed some wine yet!? YEAH! All of the little fun things that I actually DO like, that actually DO make me feel better… it is like they are not worth writing about ‘cause there is more serious stuff going “down” that I have to deal with so I can enjoy MORE of the fun little great stuff. Urgh – the never ending conundrum of the typical emotional roller coaster. I am scared that reverting back into manic pregnant lady is going to scare Taylor away as he oh so luckily gets to deal with me…. daily… poor guy. The gist is- it has got to end SOMETIME… SOMEHOW… I just would like to know how right now and I promise to write more … after our vacation which will hopefully help me relax a little.

A drinking problem

I don’t want to beat a dead horse here, but I have discovered the ultimate meaning of ‘you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til its gone”… I can’t seem to get over this not drinking thing. The not smoking? Not nearly as bad. But, no wine, no martini, no nothin’- ridiculously hard. And I’ll tell you why.

A drink is a signal. A signal for the end of the day, a signal that its Friday and the weekend has begun, a signal that you’ve accomplished so much that your back is sore and your feet hurt, a signal that there is something fabulous to celebrate, a signal that it’s the end of the night - it’s a signal for what ever we choose it to be.  That’s it. It’s not brain surgery or rocket science.

Imagine this- we go about a busy day. We complete the tasks we so eagerly set out to accomplish, and as per usual the day slips by before we know it. We are pooped, flat out exhausted and can’t wait to put our feet up and have a glass of wine – see? A drink signal for pencils down, time’s up, the day is over. Ahhhh… and that little glass of wine tastes great. It makes sure that we realize that there is nothing left to do from here other than relax, watch a little news, maybe catch up on some personal things, eat dinner and go to bed so we can do it all again tomorrow.

Imagine that we rinse and repeat this cycle throughout the long week- day in day out. Complete tasks, accomplish much, be ridiculously tired, and countdown to the weekend. And then it arrives. It’s Friday, its after five PM – YEAH! And it has been such a long week that you can’t remember what your crisis was on Monday, let alone the fact that you forgot your spouse’s name on Tuesday, your own name on Wednesday, and maybe for kicks your wallet on top of your car on Thursday. The week is over- it’s nothing but sunny skies and calm seas for the next two days and to celebrate you decide to step it up with maybe something in a fancy glass that comes with it’s own appetizer (read: olives)… or better yet (and if you are my husband) it is something that comes in a very simple small glass with ice and you can barely see through amber colored liquid named after a guy with two first names.  But that’s not the point, the point is this drink is a signal that you can put the week behind you and each little sip will wash away just the last little bit of hectic residue from the week. Ahhh… and the weekend begins.

Now imagine any of these scenarios without the end of day drink- we complete tasks we set out eagerly to accomplish, we run around like a chicken with our head cut off, we scramble to get through the nitty gritty minutiae of the day,  and before we know it its 5 pm we are pooped, and as always we still wonder where the day goes – it’s over and it is time to relax. (Of course, please feel free to insert your own work hours here)

But wait…. Is the day really over? I can stop trying to cross things off my to do list? But where is my signal? Isn’t there something that tells me to stop, put my feet up and relax for the evening? It’s gone!! Someone stole my signal!!! (In this case it happens to be my husband as he is the one that “put” me in my current situation ☺) Without it the day actually doesn’t seem to stop, instead it seems to keep going. It is this swirling abyss of to-do lists: dinner, to make, vacuum the 2nd floor, oh and I need to change the laundry over, and there are a few emails I should send to try and free up some time for tomorrow or another day in the week. My brain keeps going and going. There isn’t anything to help me make that end of day mental decision to put everything down because it can all wait. Put my feet up because it will all get done, it always does. To take a deep breathe and look up at the stars, hug my husband, play with the dog, watch Jeopardy and try scream the answers at the contestants (because they can clearly hear you if you just yell the answers to them), and anything other than what is on that damn list.

I get it now. I get the whole kit and kaboodle, how reliant we become on certain things to direct the way we live and act.  I am learning a precious lesson here, and I plan to take my new found wisdom to the streets. O.K. – maybe not to the streets, I really have very little time as it is. But I see how hard it is to create for ourselves new paradigms. This 'no consumption' thing really isn’t medically based (I know – that’s a joke, just bear with me) it is a process of removing every single one of our vices forcing us to re-asses our priorities, our motus operandi. Someone up there (or inside me) is whispering, “Little cricket listen to the frog he has wisdom to share” – and reminds me that having children is all about flexibility. Duh right? I'm flex, I am so flex I can bend in a breeze.  Sure, I know. But do we REALLY know how to be flexible? Resourceful? This test is about needing to learn new tricks, and in order to do it we have to start from scratch. And starting from scratch includes removing all previously known crutches and learning to walk on our own again, relearning how to accomplish twice the amount of daily tasks, be dead dog tired and still somehow manage to find calm, enjoyment, love, contentment, and relaxation.  

Whew… this is what it is going to be like having kids? Yikes – I could really use a drink.

ISO: Inspiration

I’ve been M.I.A. these last few days- physically and mentally. This last week has gotten very personal for some reason, or I guess I should revise and say it may be that I am taking things far more personally… Anyway, it has been one of those week’s that my thoughts seem better fit for private writing on paper than public writing here. I guess the hormones are really kicking in just that much more- finding their roots. The “prickly cactus” that I have been has morphed somewhat (not completely mind you) into a scared weepy version of myself which is pretty odd in it’s own right. Rarely am I scared or this weepy. Sure, in the past I’ve been …sometimes... but currently I feel like crying all of the time - of course I feel like laughing all the time too. I just wish my hormonally challenged brain would come back from the brink and make up its mind what the proverbial “we” want to do with ourselves. According to the three hundred calendars I keep an eye on , the baby is apparently the size of a raspberry! We were so spoiled by having the ability to have an ultrasound a week that now we feel lost with out being able to take a peek inside and see how our little nubbin is doing. We need an ultrasound machine here at home… don’t they sell a potable one now? Anyway, no need to re-mortgage the house for my selfish need to spy on the growing baby.

Aside from that all seems to be relatively well. I fear that I may have temporarily lost my mojo in the kitchen- maybe it is on vacation just in time for the first good thick frost, which covered the ground this morning. But this last week has been a week of blah dinners, not made without love, just made without effervescence or enthusiasm. So I as I sit here trying to generate a list of what to get from the farmers market I am in search of my inspiration. I have to figure out how to trigger it- going through my old cookbooks is out- I did that a few weeks ago only to ask myself why really I have all of these books with recipes I will no doubt probably never make as they are too poo-poo-tah-tah for at home casual dining, or have made so many times are now reside on the honored “over it” list. I then turn to thoughts of playing favorites.

You may not know that I am one of the biggest fans of “brunch” on the planet. Sleep in late, wake up to Bloody Mary’s, whiskey sours, mimosas (have I told you how much I miss cocktails yet? ) savory soufflés, sweet treats with powdered sugary flourishes, and everything a vehicle for butter – I dare say that life doesn’t get any better than brunch.

I have been remembering recently a hike / camping trip I went on when I lived out west. For the life of me I can’t remember where we were – or even what state we were in. It’s killing me. Anyway, location is not that important. We had gotten there at dusk so I had no idea what exactly to expect when I woke up that next morning which I oddly am a big fan of- the art of the elemental surprise. It was breath taking. There was a gorgeous lake, thick ranks of evergreens at the mountain line, crisp frost bitten air much like this morning, no one around for what seemed like miles – if at all - and the stillness that comes from being in the woods in the onset of fall. A silence that comes over everything as critters have not yet woken up, the birds have either flown away or are still nestled under their own wings, and the leaves have vanished so there is little rustling in the branches above. 

After a morning hike and loading everything into the car we drove to the surprise part of the trip- Brunch at the Lodge – the Lodge? Are you kidding? There’s a lodge? The fact that they served what was known to be the most incredible brunch for miles, maybe even states, far more than made up for the fact that my then boyfriend didn’t tell me that the luxury facility existed a mere half a mile away from our camping spot so as to not ruin the ‘surprise’- it was a sick sense of romanticism that only my then college mind would have been able to handle. I digress; the lodge was in fact a revelation in itself. It wasn’t just the sight of the hand hewn mass in front of us as we pulled up, inside of which I correctly envisioned the warmth of stoked fires, wall mounted moose antlers and “stuffed” wild salmon and trout. It was the fact that when we entered, the hushed sounds and warm smells of the lounge and dining room overwhelmed me in every sense that it brought tears to my eyes. (Ok, this may actually be a slight exaggeration - the teary part - but that’s what I imagine I felt like if I were ‘me’ then as I am me now – make sense? stay with me…. I am as I said- weepy) Anyway, after nice long hot showers we sat down for maybe the best fall brunch I can ever recall - or, at least at this moment. A long night in the cold made us ravenous and we ordered everything. Beautiful yeasty waffles with melted butter oozing over every square, house smoked salmon, and the most perfect poached eggs. We ate as kings, and deserved as much.

So now when I wonder, where oh where my inspiration has gone, I can think back to the warm satiated feeling I had while looking over the glistening mountain lake, high above the cares of the world, with the sweet powdery sugar taste still on my lips and realize that I don’t always need to be inspired by savory sauces, robust roasts, or sweet baked breads. Or worry about what is on the “not allowed to have list (mainly right now the smoked salmon and poached eggs which I thrive on). I can just be happy being inspired by warm feelings of the best type of food in existence: Brunch.

A Spooktacular Day

Wow… today we saw the baby’s heartbeat for the first time- very awesome, surreal and odd at the same time. God bless the wonderful world of ultrasound. I’ll be honest: these babies don’t grow nearly as fast as I thought. I know that they grow hyper fast – seriously I do, I went to Health Ed. in school, I hear what the doctors tell us. But 2mm?  That seems awfully small for a baby that causes such wide reaching mood swings. I mean, you’d think this thing was the size of the troll that lives under the bridge at this point given how much my mental state fluctuates. One minute I am happy as a clam, the next I am raging lunatic angry and ready to storm out of the house (and go where I don’t really know- it always seems like a great idea…) then the next I am sobbing and miserable trying to figure out how we are going to pull this whole pregnancy, baby, and parenting thing off. Normal? Yep.

The only true consolation that I realize I have is knowing that while we all think/ say that the men have it easy in this pregnancy thing, (at least I had imagined that Taylor did) I have come to realize that they don’t. I mean, there may not be too worse things than approaching Halloween and wondering what type of monster ate your wife and replaced her with the banshee that she sometimes becomes when a certain time of day is reached or a trigger crops up or for no reason at all.  There is a lot of caressing, and “there there” in our house right now.  To the point that Taylor rolled his eyes and laughed last night (after one of my fits of crying of course) when I said I wasn’t experiencing any real pregnancy symptoms. Woops. And I thought we were getting away scott free- oh how I was mistaken!

Past that, this week’s dinners have been relatively lackluster and nothing to write about. Not for lack of desire or inspiration but it was really hard to start a week off with Taylor's homemade gnocchi on Sunday-everything else pales in comparison. We are heading to the farm tonight for end of season lobsters from the Cape, which I can’t wait for. A limited lobster consumption this year is as close to heartbreaking as it gets in this house. I guess we can treat it as sort of our Halloween ‘treat’ since we don’t have neighbors, we don’t get trick or treaters, and there really isn’t anything uber-inspiring or that appeals to us to get ourselves dressed up for anymore.

I would say we really are growing up, but then realize that we do harbor a ridiculous desire to (for some reason) dress our dogs up for Halloween this year just for kicks. Torturous maybe but still gets a good hefty giggle out of us every time we talk about it.   I wont tell you as what in case we actually DO it and take pictures- I will of course then post the pictures for the world to see. If they only knew how we desire to mortify them then they would no doubt have done everything in their power to make sure that we didn’t reproduce. The cats on the other hand get left alone- we do have kitty wigs for them thanks to their aunt Lib but that usually doesn’t elicit too happy of a response and when a 24 pound cat with claws wants to tell you he isn’t messing around with a hot pink or blond wig that fits over his ears he gets his point across.

Even scarier than my crazy psychotic episodes might be what it would be like to experience a world series game on Halloween… in Philadelphia… not to say that I would not go and wear a witch’s hat if I had the chance, but I feel badly for any unsuspecting visitors (Yankees fans or not) for having to visit the scariest fan town in the nation on the scariest day of the year.

Go Phils and Happy Holler-ween!

My pants are too tight and it ain't the baby

Unbeknown to me – there is a pumpkin shortage going on. I have been dreaming of the nutmeg-ey goodness warm pumpkin bread, pumpkin sauce, of pumpkin pie… all of it. But it’s true, while I was able to  pick up some fabulous looking neck pumpkins when we were at Milky Way Farm yesterday (GREAT place by the way- perfect for kids too), I recently noticed when I was at the store the pumpkin shelves are barren… dry… zip…zilch…nada. And there is a sign noting that the Libbey Pumpkin Company would like everyone to bear with them, as there has been a pumpkin shortage – really? Why didn’t this make the news instead of the Balloon boy? We are on the cusp of the biggest pumpkin celebration of the year- Thanksgiving – and there is no canned pumpkin for when, in a pinch, you mess up your home baked, freshly pick’t pie pumpkins from your local farm? The ones you had planned on prepping months worth of golden pulpy goodness for breads, pies, sauces, and soups for? Not that I am planning on messing up my crooked squash mind you.  Anyway, good luck - there is a pumpkin shortage. On another note, and maybe oddly related- there also happens to be a frozen waffle shortage. Not sure how that happens but it’s also true – hmmm….

Anyway, the Beignets turned out FABULOUS…. I used the recipe from The Merlin Menu blog. The recipe is very basic, very easy and the result is near perfection. The only kicker was that after getting everything ready, dough, hot oil et. al. I actually realized that we didn’t have any powdered sugar – ACK… so they got cinnamon sugar and 10x went on the good old shopping list so a similar situation is avoided in the future. Mucho frustrating.

I have also been on a gourd kick over the last week. The other day at the Garden Store I bought 2 dozen baby gourds, yesterday I bought another dozen. It might be a problem now.  I do not usually buy gourds in the fall, but this year for some reason they have struck me as the perfect little do anything with décor item. While this is not ground breaking news to gourd lovers out there, nor is it me really as an event planner, for some reason this year things in the world of gourds “clicked”. They are easy to maintain – no watering needed (like the Mums I bought and watched slowly die a painful death at our doorstep) - easy to display – grandma’s tureen is perfect or I plan on hollowing them out (thanks for the paddle bit idea Lia) , and they look well… cute. … Martha watch out.

Here they are in my grandmother's tureen. Taylor got a new camera lens as well this week which translates to the fact that we have over 60 pictures of our gourds - so I thought I would do him the honor of using one here for him.

I think that realistically I am mentally morphing deeper into an abyss of ‘all things baby’ at this point which is not surprising given the circumstances, however is definitely an official new first hand personality development for me. Sure, I have always been drawn to the babies, children and children’s things- books, smocked dresses, little socks, blankets, red wagons, old school toys.  I could go on and on. But recently I have noticed that I am finding myself just generally attracted to small things. Mini artichokes peaked my interest on Orangette the other day, this weekend’s baby gourds, the little critter racer’s from the wisteria website I have been pining over (don’t ask), I even bought teenie weenie ditalini past-ini for soup this week - I have developed a penchant for small things. I’ll admit it, and I am watching it get worse daily.  

Maybe it is a compensation for the fact that I am staring down the barrel of the “you are not going to be anything close to small in the coming months” kind of gun (of course the beignets for breakfast and Taylor's delicate but belly filling homemade gnocchi for dinner yesterday certainly don’t help the situation – Taylor is convinced I will need back up warning beeps at the end of this whole baby thing) I am barely even hinting at a notorious ‘baby bump’ yet but it already seems that everything around me is getting smaller already. Maybe I am a sadist. Or it’s an undiscovered self-preservation technique.

There is a commercial on the television that has a woman wearing everything that is oversized– massive bracelets, big huge Texas sized hair, giant hobo bag, even a Great Dane walking by her side. Her friend in the ad tells her she looks like she’s lost weight- naw- “it’s just these big things- they make me look really small”. Well this is my opposites phase. I am attracted to small things so I can start to FEEL bigger… I like the way I work. Really I do… time to put my sneakers on and drag myself outside for a crisp fall walk before I really DO need the ‘beep…..beep…beep’

Whew

Anyone who has been, or is, or knows anything about pregnancy will tell you that in addition to having to steer clear of some key culinary delights that you never think you would really miss but really DO in order to give a growing chitlin inside a healthy fighting chance, also will remind you to steer clear from your (my in this case) favorite tasty beverages.

I get it, I know why, I follow it but honestly - I would have given my right arm (and maybe part of my left) for a glass of Cab last night at the ‘spill the beans dinner’… heck I’d take one right now. Why, oh WHY can’t someone come up with a fantastic alternative to cocktails for those of us craving but not able to indulge?

I have searched for “mock”tails for 2 days online (yes, MOCK tails, everything has a catchy name these days) and NOTHING…. I see loads of fruit juice based fizzy drinks that because they are poured into a specialty glass with a stem fall under the ‘tails’ category- WRONG. these drinks couldn't be farther from a real cocktail.  

Show me a fake Manhattan that actually TASTES like a Manhattan or a martini flavored water that you can throw in a couple of olives into and call it a Friday night , Non Alcoholic wine that actually TASTES like wine and not bastardization of grape juice and I will actually come to your house and mow your lawn. No Joke. Back it up with something to take the edge off that falls under my doctor’s approved pregnancy items list, and I’ll give you first right of refusal on the bragging rights to owning the worlds largest orange cat named Russell. (Seriously, it’s worth it, he is easily 25 lbs. - he could have a chance at a Guinness record).   


Aside from the lack of hot and cold spirit warming spirits that we usually delve into now that the thermostat is going up and the outside temp going down, things are good. The “spill the beans” dinner went great, moms and dads all very excited of course, Giddy in fact I think might be a better description, very cool. The small taste of that sparkling nectar of the gods on my lips and tongue was, as expected, all at once pure ecstasy and torture wrapped up nicely in a brown paper package and tied with a raffia bow by Martha Stewart herself. And despite the fact that only our immediate family currently know that T’s boys can swim it feels great just knowing we are not harboring intel that feels like a dirty little secret until the cat is out of the bag. (Shameless reference to the cat again as I really could use that drink and the offer for Russell still stands.) 

The Beef Bourguignon was good; the combo of the rainstorm and early evening chill, family, fireplace and something to celebrate worked out nicely in my favor. Crusty French bread… mmmm… and the homemade sweet apple compote I made the other day with the apples from the farm over ice cream, yes thank you, I WILL have some more, it was fall flavors at their best.

In my innate desire to surround this growing baby with the warmth of a kitchen and the sweet smells of homemade, home baked, and even home fried delights I wildly searched the other day to dig up a decent Beignet recipe- I found of course hundreds that all made my mouth water and I think maybe my knees weak. While I have never been to New Orleans, I have long been a lover and dreamer of the beignet. Any size, any flavor, savory, sweet, you name it. To me they are the ultimate piece of angelic fluff, little clouds of dough with breezes of powdered sugar – perfection. 

Although, the last time we (okay-I) made beignets, I cheated. It was one of those things that seemed like a great idea at the time but turned out more appropriate for the 101 items that could also be used as a home construction material list (oh and, remind me to tell you about the fact that we have only a semi operating, mid-construction master bath at some point as well and how I got us in this pickle). 

I used the Café du Monde mix that Peter and Bonnie brought back from NOLA – gasp – I know, I know… it was in a test, I was super curious to see if it actually worked, and it failed me miserably. 

Therefore, tomorrow, after a semi good night rest (and prayers that the dogs do not decide fake me out of bed at 7:30 only to go outside briefly then snake my spot with muddy paws) and before a planned afternoon of pumpkin picking followed by an evening of making homemade gnocchi, I plan on arising early to make homemade, from scratch, Beignets… I can’t resist. I can’t do very much it feels like these days but I am allowed to cook, and I am allowed to eat. So, as I settle a little deeper into nesting mode, Beignets, a little CBS Sunday Morning, pick ‘em yourself pumpkins, and homemade pasta all sounds ridiculously good. Maybe I’ll throw in a brief nap to put it all over the edge. 

Wow, a girl could get used to this pregnant thing. 

TWO TWO

Welcome to Day 22 of my "Gestational Cycle" which means that as of today we could SEE our teenie tiny baby the old candy jar... which is growing ridiculously fast. Just the other day when we were in to confirm this whole parents to be thing, our nubbin was the size of a pinhead, now an eraser. I am hoping that the next analogy will relate the baby to the size of one of the crazy huge prenatal vitamins I take 6 of each day just to make up for the fact that I take SIX of them... who's idea was it again to make these things so big that poor women who are lucky to keep down a saltine have to choke them down 2 at a time three times daily? The nerve.

What an odd experience this has been so far... we tell our parents tonight, which will make things MUCH better as we will have people to "turn to" to chat, lament, ask questions of, worry with, laugh with, plan with - the whole ball of wax...whew and finally. It is hard to keep this kind of news tucked in. It's like winning the lottery and then going back to work the next day like nothing happened... yeah, right.

We had our first ultra sound today, piece of cake. All is where it should be and looks like it should etc.. After a little internal stress last night on my end of "what happens if this ISN'T going to actually happen??" passed we rallied ourselves for a first thing doctor's appt.. As it turned out, the hardest part of the visit was realizing that our doctor has a bottle of what we can only assume to be "snake oil" in his office- I know WTF right???? This is no shabby doctor either, despite what the About me section may have you think of us- we do not live in a house with wheels in the deep south, we have all of our teeth and our church services aren't held under a canvas tent in a field.   This guy is top notch (and knows it actually-but that's another story), so seeing a funky clear glass bottle filled with various colored and sized snakes and snake skins soaking in oil was super creepy. 

I would like to add to this story that there is one thing that I knowingly fear the most... yep... snakes... I don't care if they are alive or dead; 2 inches small or 20 feet long; in our backyard in the wood pile or behind glass at the Zoo. They are, and will always be the same devilish, disgusting slithery things that make my knees knock. So yes, seeing this intriguing bottle on the obligatory doctor's office "Cool nick knacks I've collected in my travels thanks to your money" shelf set me back a little... breathe... over it... moving on...then he told me I couldn't have splenda along with the 3 million other things I can't have (sure - kick me while I am down- how else is someone supposed to make DECAF coffee taste better???).

I guess in the grand scheme of things I should be thankful. After nine months of trying for a baby, and the time finally being here, I should (and DO) feel lucky that the only thing that makes my knees currently knock are snakes in a jar and the rug woven of my multitude of vices being pulled out from under me. Oh yes, and my husband, but that's in a good way- still- for now...we do have a long way to go in this pregnancy though, hee hee. 

Anyway, we are back at home. I with my blah decaf coffee trying to determine what I can eat next that is on the short list of healthy things for mom to be, my husband with his amped up leaded version of the morning kick in the pants and a day of work at home on his hands. Our nutty dogs who for some reason seem to have the WORST smelling gas today (Budreaux in particular) and a pending rain storm that should arrive just in time for the big 'Spill the Beans' dinner with our parents - which is also why I made beef bourguignon for dinner aside from the fact its so easy its not funny. I am SO having an illegal sip of champagne tonight to celebrate. If this baby is going to be a Goetz, it better get used to the good stuff early on.