Year: 2012

When Too Much Information is a Bad Thing

It’s only taken me several weeks too many, but I’ve come to the realization that too much information can be a very bad thing. Especially when it comes to parenting.

I had the Heathens in my early twenties, and I had no idea what the hell I was doing. I basically flew by the seat of my pants, and I’m sure I made plenty of mistakes along the way. I fumbled my way through early motherhood, and counted each day a success if everyone ended up fed and in moderately clean clothes.

In retrospect, I feel like I could have avoided certain frustrations if I had only done things differently; for example, maybe I could have bypassed the picky toddler food wars if I had given the boys more table food from the start, and less of the jarred stuff. When all the other moms were structuring their kids’ playtime, I confess I often told my kids to go play and let them be. I wasn’t overly proactive, and if anything, I was really put off by the intensity of the hyper-parents we saw at t-ball practice (in fact, we quit t-ball shortly after watching parents argue about which three year-old was going to play first base). Still, as the boys got older, I wondered if maybe my inexperienced laissez-faire approach to parenting kept my kids from being all they could be. I still fretted, as does any new mom, but I didn’t really know enough about raising kids to worry about half as much as I could have. Little did I know that a modicum of ignorance was actually a good thing.

When I got pregnant with Bean, nearly ten years later, I was oh-so-determined to do things better than I had before. I read, and read and then I read some more. I poured over Dr. Sears books and spent hours on the internet soaking in all of the latest trends that promised to give us the smartest, healthiest, most well-adjusted baby. I was going to be ready this time…hell, I was going to be Supermom. I would be armed with information, do everything right and breeze through Bean’s babyhood with confidence.

Ha…ha…mwahahahaha!!!

You want to know what all that reading really did? It made me neurotic. I spent the first weeks of Bean’s life fretting, and fearing, and plagued with insecurities. I worried I wasn’t holding Bean enough, feeding her enough, or engaging her enough. I feared the smallest misstep would damage the perfect bond that those Dr. Sear’s books claimed we were supposed to have. And dear God, if she was crying, I better be holding her, lest I damage her little psyche with feelings of abandonment. I had to be the perfect parent, even if it came at the expense of my common sense and sanity. Instead of relaxing and trusting my instincts, I was destroying my confidence as a mom with an overload of “expert” parenting advice.

Now that my post-partum insanity is finally waning, I’ve remembered something very important. I raised this guy:

And this one:

And they’ve turned out just fine, if I do say so myself. I did without a pile of parenting books, or endless internet searches. My husband and I did it by being ourselves, and not by trying to follow someone else’s manual for how to raise our kids.

I don’t want to be the mom that is so paralyzed by fear of screwing up her kids that she can’t enjoy their childhood. So, the Dr. Sears books headed to the donation pile and I’m going to spend less time worrying and more time enjoying this:

 

First Harvest

My husband picked our first vegetables of the year from our garden. About two seconds later, he found one of his pepper plants stripped bare of its’ leaves. He also found the fattest caterpillar on earth next to the plant, with an incriminating fleck of pepper leaf in the corner of its’ little caterpillar mouth.

My husband used words that are not fit for public consumption, but being the softie he is, simply relocated the guilty party to another part of the yard.

I’m going to laugh when he finds the caterpillar back in the peppers tomorrow.

 

Getting the Heathens to Eat Something Other Than Chicken—Kid (and Husband) Friendly Salmon Croquettes

Living in the land of picky eaters means that I have to tinker with recipes…a lot. In any given culinary experiment, I am usually forced to omit one, if not several ingredients because either the Heathens or my husband will not touch the dish otherwise. I’ve worked hard to get the kids eating proteins beyond chicken, chicken and more chicken. Oh, how I’ve worked, Progress is slow, but they’ve come a long way in the past year. They both embraced sausage, bacon and steak, but seafood is still hit and miss.

I recently stumbled on a new way to make Salmon Croquettes that helped further the cause. You really should try these. They are dang tasty.

Salmon Croquettes

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Servings: 0
Notes

Notes

Here's what you will need:
  • 1 can (14.7 oz) salmon (you'll need to take out the bones and junk)
  • 1 pkg. herb stuffing mix
  • 1 cup grated mozzarella cheese
  • 3/4 cup water
  • 1/3 cup mayonnaise
  • 1 tablespoon lemon juice (fresh dude)
Place the salmon in a bowl, after you've removed the bones and anything else that looks weird:
Add all the remaining ingredients:
Mix all the ingredients together with your hands until well combined. Sorry Charlie, but there is really no better way to mix it than with your hands. I'm not a fan of touching stinky fish either, but that's what good hand soap is for.
Once the ingredients are combined, form the mixture into 8 patties:
Cover the patties with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least two hours. If you don't, they will just fall apart when you cook them, and that sure isn't fun. Once the patties are chilled, heat a few tablespoons of vegetable oil in a nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Basically, you need enough oil to cover the bottom of the skillet. Cook the patties about three minutes on each side:
Watch the patties carefully, because they burn easily if you don't; turn the heat down if they are in danger. Since the salmon is already cooked, you are only heating the patties through and browning the outside. Trust me, three minutes per side should be plenty.
Remove the patties from the skillet and drain on paper towels:
Tried this recipe?Let us know how it was!

The Heathens eat these with ketchup (*sigh*), but I bet a good Remoulade would be awesome too. My husband saves the extra patties (if there are any extras) and slaps them on a burger bun with cheese for lunch the next day.

An entrée for less than $5 that the kids actually eat? One that’s not chicken?

I call that score one for mom.

Six Weeks Old and the Two Baby Products I Couldn’t live Without

Bean is six weeks old today!

After spending a fortune on baby stuff, we’re getting an idea of what we love, what was a waste of money and what we couldn’t live without.

Let me tell ya a little bit about this:

This was the best $15 I spent. When I first bought this timer gadget, my husband looked at me like I was an insane waster of money. After all, we have iPhones and they do everything, right? However, unlocking our password-protected iPhones and waiting for apps to load takes time…precious seconds we don’t have when juggling a newborn. I admit, this gadget is so ridiculously simple in concept that it seems unnecessary. But, as our entire family will tell you, I now live with the Itzbeen timer. This thing was a lifesaver in the hospital. I could keep track, at a glance, of how long it had been since Bean ate, since we changed her diaper and even since I had my pain medication. When I was recovering from surgery, this was my mental back-up when pain and sleep deprivation clouded my brain. Six weeks later, I still use this 24/7.There’s no fiddling or fussing. I just push the appropriate button, and the timer for that particular activity resets so, two sleep deprived hours later, I know how long it’s been. I don’t have to use up valuable post-partum brain power doing the math or trying to remember when I last fed her, changed her, or gave her medicine. It even has a flashlight so I’m able to find the pacifier at night without waking her up. Also, my husband can instantly see where we are at in Bean’s schedule. If she’s crying and I’m in the shower, he can check the timer and know instantly whether she’s hungry or just fussy. So yeah, it was $15 well spent.

As for baby carriers, I researched, over-analyzed, and finally bought both the Moby:

And the Ergo:

They both had top ratings and awesome reviews, and I assumed we would use them both. Sadly, the Moby was a disaster for us. My husband and I tried to figure it out, read the instructions repeatedly, and watched the videos online. Even with extensive practice, we just could never finagle it. Bean was always so awkwardly positioned that we spent the entire time checking and adjusting her. Also, the Moby was too much of a pain in the rear to use. After dragging the tails through the Target parking lot as I tried to put it on, I finally conceded that the Moby just wasn’t for us. Even if we had been able to figure it out, I don’t think that the layers of heavy fabric are practical for the hot, humid Louisiana weather.

The Ergo, however, is the BEST. Either my husband or I use it every day. It’s a piece of cake to get on and off, and to get Bean in and out of. I use it when we shop, go to the library and just about everywhere else. My husband often calms a fussy Bean by strapping on the Ergo and walking laps around our house. Our Ergo was an investment, but six weeks later, I would buy it again in a heartbeat.

So, that’s the skinny on our first round of baby products. The jury is still out on the rest of Bean’s stuff, but I’ll let ya know.

Bear Decorates a Cake and Reminds Me to Chill Out

Bear made his First Communion this weekend!

As much as I wanted to pull together a big to-do, Bean kept us under her Reign of Colic Terror all week. However, I was still determined to make Bear a super-cool cake. If I couldn’t manage a party, I certainly should have been able to decorate a cake.

Unfortunately, Screamy-Bean had other ideas:

But Bear, being the magical boy he is, solved this problem before he knew it was a problem. As the cake layers were cooling, and I was desperately trying to calm Bean down long enough to get to them, Bear exclaims, “Can I decorate the cake? It will be like a cake decorating party!”

With my mom-guilt already at an all-time high, I asked him repeatedly if he was sure he didn’t want me to do it. Nope, Bear found the prospect of decorating an entire two-tier cake all by himself to be too exciting to pass up. I gratefully turned him loose with an assortment of sprinkles and went back to angry-baby detail.

Let me tell ya, that kid was oh-so-proud of his First Communion cake:

After seeing how happy he was, I reminded myself that kids often care more about experiences and memories than appearances. Sure, I could have made him a fancy cake, but looking back, would he have cared about its’ appearance? I don’t think so. Bear will probably remember the fun he had decorating his very own First Communion cake, rather than what the cake actually looked like.

I guess the moral of the story is that, when my urge to be supermom turns what should be fun into a stress fest, I need to remember to see things through the eyes of these clowns:

 

They don’t care if life looks like the perfect pages of a magazine. I need to keep reminding myself of that, because they’d much rather have a happy, less stressed mom than a perfect cake.

Unsolicited Advice—Why Is My Baby Your Free Pass for Intrusive Behavior?

We’ve had a rough few days around here. Bean is not a happy camper, and has taken to throwing epic fits that are reminiscent of Demon-Baby. I finally dragged my semi-hysterical self to the pediatrician yesterday, and came out with a revised feeding plan, reflux medicine, and a definitive timeline for testing the theory that Bean has tummy troubles. If that doesn’t work, I’ll suck it up and accept the dreaded colic explanation.

Prior to my desperate doctor visit, I’ve learned that every Tom, Dick and Harry I pass on the street thinks they know more about my kid than I do. To add insult to injury, they feel compelled to share with me their infinite wisdom on how to fix my crying baby, using their Google medical degree.

Case-in-point #1:

Right about check-out time at Target the other day, Bean erupted into full-on screaming. The lady behind me, who clearly was a mother who had been in my situation, kept her mouth shut and simply offered to load an unwieldy box into my cart…God bless her. However, between the check-out line and the door, I was stopped by no less than five people to inquire about my screaming infant, then offer me their arm-chair diagnosis of what she needed.

“No, my baby is not hungry.”

“Why yes, she is pissed off. Thank you for that astute observation.”

“No, she doesn’t need her diaper changed.”

“No, she is not in need of a nap.”

“Yes, I’m sure *insert zany advice here* worked well for you, but I’ve got it covered…thanks.”

“No, I don’t want to hear about your pregnant daughter-in-law.”

“Can’t you see that you are blocking me from getting my screaming infant out of here???”

Yeah, I was about to end up on the news after that gauntlet. What is it about a baby that makes perfect strangers forget all boundaries, manners and common sense?

Case-in-point #2:

After a night of endless fussing, I took Bean to the park with the hope that fresh air and a few laps in the stroller would do us both some good. Not halfway through our first lap, she let loose with her guttural screams of “nothing you do will make me happy.” Of course, I turned to head back to the parking lot, only to get stopped by three people along the way.

“Somebody must be hungry!” Um, I fed her 10 minutes ago, but I love your insinuation that I’m letting my baby starve while I take a little stroll.

“Did you pinch that baby?” “No, but I’m tempted to pinch you right about now.

“She must be tired!” WHY didn’t I think of that??

Maybe it’s the sleep-deprivation talking, but I’ve had enough unsolicited advice today. To my armchair baby whisperers, please reengage your propriety filters, or you may draw back a nub next time.

*This public service announcement was brought to you by me, the soon to be mayor of Margaritaville*

Sunday Dinner & My Husband’s Breadsticks

 

We had a nice weekend, and with the help of my industrious husband, we enjoyed a wonderful Sunday dinner. While I whipped up some Chicken and Sausage Spaghetti, he broke out the bread machine. I love it when we does that…what girl wouldn’t be giddy when her husband bakes for her?

My husband knew his way around a bread machine long before he met me, and his repertoire included homemade cinnamon rolls, oat bread and breadsticks. Our busy schedules have not allowed much time for baking lately, so when I heard he was mixing up a batch of Garlic Breadsticks, I practically swooned.

Want to try ’em? Here’s the recipe:

Garlic Breadsticks

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Servings: 0
Notes

Notes

  • 1 1/8 cups water (70 to 80 degrees F)
  • 2 tablespoons olive or canola oil
  • 3 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese
  • 2 tablespoons sugar
  • 3 teaspoons garlic powder
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon dried basil
  • 3 cups flour (Bread flour is ok too).
  • 2 teaspoons active dry yeast
  • 1 tablespoon butter or stick margarine, melted
Directions
  1. In bread machine pan, place the first nine ingredients in order listed. Select dough setting. When cycle is completed, turn dough onto a lightly floured surface. Divide into 20 portions. Shape each into a ball; roll each into a 9-in. rope. Place on greased baking sheets. Cover and let rise in a warm place for 40 minutes or until doubled. Bake at 350 degrees for 18-22 minutes or until golden brown. Remove to wire racks. Brush warm breadsticks with butter.
Tried this recipe?Let us know how it was!

 

Trust me, they are dang tasty.