Weekday Breakfast Win

Last night, my cloud lifted. After an alarmingly terrible dinner (seriously, awful!) I set myself to taking out my anger on the kitchen. I almost never have the gumption to clean at night, as hanging out with the kid all day tends to be somewhat draining. That's a whole chunk of uninterrupted time that I could use to be productive. I know this, but most of the time I'm just too lazy to care.

But last night, feeling the sting of a failed dinner and trying to distract myself from the temptation to go buy a pint of Ben and Jerry's to satisfy my neglected food addiction, I cleaned the kitchen. Not exactly a praiseworthy feat, I know. But it felt so satisfying this morning to wake up to a fresh start that I cheerfully made a heap of meyer lemon pancakes.

Working at a bed and breakfast has given me a slew of easy breakfast recipes. I am a pancake master. If you know anything at all about making pancakes from scratch, this will not impress you. Pancakes are literally the easiest thing in the world to whip up. Fool-proof, I dare say. It actually infuriates me that boxed pancake mix exists, because a blindfolded monkey could easily make delicious flapjacks.

I digress. Last week I had some leftover heavy cream from chocolate ganache I had made. Little E and I were quite bored and I didn't want the cream to go to waste, so we made butter. Shake shake shake shake...the baby was transfixed, and I got a workout! This morning I used the fresh buttermilk and a bunch of meyer lemons given to me at a birthday party a few days ago. The result was just what we all needed this morning after such a disappointing (seriously, awful!) dinner. They were light and fluffy, subtle and tangy, and oh so spring. Little E gobbled one down happily, and nothing says success to this mama like a finicky baby who approves of a food I've made.

I am not a photographer. But I do win at fried dough.

I didn't use a recipe but if you want to make these, I'll take a stab at writing it down for you:

1 1/2 cup AP flour

2 tsp. baking powder

1 tsp. salt

1-2 tsp. ginger (use grated fresh ginger, if you've got it. I didn't, but I bet it would add a happy zing.)

About a cup of buttermilk, yogurt, or whatever liquidy dairy you've got lying around...see? Can't mess it up.

1 egg

zest and juice of 2 small meyer lemons, about 1/4 cup total

1/4 tsp. lemon extract (don't stress about this if you don't have any.)

1 tbsp. melted butter

1 tbsp. sugar

Mix the dry ingredients first in a large bowl, then add the wet ingredients and combine. I like to beat the egg into the measuring cup I use for the milk and whatever other wet ingredients I've got so I don't have to dirty another bowl. Add more liquid until it's the consistency you like. Thicker batter will make for a fluffier pancake, but make sure you use a lower heat to cook them otherwise they'll burn before the inside sets up. If the batter is runny, your pancakes will be thin but still delicious. Using a higher heat will keep them from spreading until they're huge, or if they do...you've basically got a crepe. 

Let the batter rest a few minutes and slowly heat up the skillet or griddle. You want to use medium-low heat or else the butter will quickly burn, so this isn't a step to be rushed. Take that time to clean up whatever mess you made while mixing the batter. Once the pan is quite hot, add a blob of butter or a bit of oil and set to fryin'! The cakes are ready to flip when you see lots of bubbles and the edges look solid. Be sure to add more butter after a few rounds. Or after every pancake, if you love dairy fat as much as I do.

Stack, slather with whatever toppings you like (these are actually delicious naked, but I poured berry sauce on top because it sounded extra yummy) and devour. 

Tonight? I'm not going to bed until my kitchen is clean. I hate to admit my mom was right on that one, but a fresh start to each day might be exactly what I need to keep the clouds at bay.

Oh, those highs and lows.

For me, one of the hardest parts of being a mama is...er, um, the lack of control. I like things...just so. I am a quiet person in the morning, my dishes all have their proper place, and I do not enjoy chaos. Let's laugh about that for a minute:

Take that, Mom!

Everyone knows that children make messes. They don't sleep. Conversely, they are always asleep whenever you have something important to do. Turn your back for a second, and the dishes multiply exponentially. Rush home from the grocery store because it is nap time, and grind your teeth for an hour because that baby will not sleep. Stress for the rest of the day expecting a terrible night because that baby missed her nap, only to be pleasantly surprised when she only wakes twice. Oy.

Not knowing how my day is going to go really gets under my skin. I can handle bad days. My problem is, I never know which days are going to be bad or why one day goes well and the next is awful. 

Joe, unaffected by it all. I envy the cats' nonchalance.

Mornings have such great potential, and they all start out more or less the same. Baby wakes around 6a.m. for a snuggle session with mama. We nurse and tickle and play with chubby toes until the kid gets squirmy. We say hi to the cats, "HAH GAH!" and then sneak down the hall to wake Papa (Big E sleeps on the couch due to some serious snoring which my light-sleeping, night-nursing self cannot handle right now.) Coffee is made, Sesame Street is turned on. All is generally well. Then, somewhere around 8a.m. the day starts to take on a distinct feel--sometimes energetic and upbeat, sometimes lethargic and oppressive. Try as I might, I cannot lay my finger on what sets the stage for the day. Is the coffee too weak? Are there too many messes? Is it the weather? Why, oh why, is this morning different from yesterday morning when the circumstances seem exactly the same?

Some serious Elmo time.

The only common factor here is me. I determine the feel of the day. I know that at times, my expectations get in the way of enjoying the present moment. My brain thinks that one day filled with sunshine, perfect nap timing and motivation means that all subsequent days must be equally amazing. 

I'm quick to find disappointment after such a high. Sometimes I just can't find it in myself to keep up with the house, be present with my daughter and enjoy every minute of the here and now. Some days, the TV and our pajamas stay on, the laundry piles up, and mama feels overwhelmed....

...and that's okay. I think. 

I'm working on being kind to myself on these days. I'm focusing on finding balance, taking deep breaths, biting my tongue when I'm feeling snarky, and being gentler with my loves. Not every day is going to be perfect. If all else fails, dressing the baby up and snapping some cute photos is a great way to pass the time.

We'll try again tomorrow. How do you deal with those oh-so-rough days?

Why I'm not an Ingalls.

When I was eleven years old, I became hooked on The Little House on the Prairie series.  I gobbled each and every one of those books down; I couldn't get enough.  I grew up in the midwest, snuggled (sometimes trapped) in the house during the snowy winters.  I don't know if most 'tween girls spend every night in the bathtub, listening to the Cranberries and reading about pioneer life...but nothing made me happier.  I guess I was born a little old lady, and I'm still an introvert today.  Every fall I whip out my copy of Farmer Boy, fill up the tub, and read about making fullcloth and preserves, butter and calico and apples n' onions and...

Oh.  If only.

So, I tend to start a lot of projects.  I pretend I'm going to plant container gardens on the balcony and go berry picking and make preserves and buy raw milk at the farmer's market.

I buy more cookbooks.  I decide I'm going to bake all our bread and make granola from scratch.


My New Year's resolution was to perfect a sourdough starter.  I buy embroidery hoops and make Christmas ornaments.


I have a 50 quart canner in my hall closet, abandoned.  I have an enormous collection of embroidery floss, hoops and needles, untouched.  My cupboards are filled with yeast and pectin and ball jars...along with the apple corer that I pull out maybe once a year.

These are plans made in the early winter, during those idle months when snow and wool are still enjoyable.  When slowing down and staying in is a welcome break.  My passion for living like a pioneer woman usually peaks around New Year's, where I make a vow to ferment my own vinegar and make all our own cleaning supplies.  And then winter's lethargy takes over and I settle in for a long, lazy season spent cursing the rain and cold.  Instead of making things, I read blogs about making things.  I really shouldn't be eating all that bread, anyway.  By the time the first flower shows up, I've forgotten all about my winter projects and we're swept away by a busy summer.  It'll be too hot to garden.  I'll plant the garden next year.  I'll have more time to plan, anyway.

An Ingalls, I am not.  I dream, but I am not industrious.  I purchase accessories and research instructions and start off with the best of intentions.  But then I remember that these things require planning and ingredients and time, and they are put away for another day.  This blog is probably another one of those projects, but that's okay.  I mean well!



So. Who's growing tomatoes this summer?  Any tips?  There's much to be done, you see.  

I Love Fridays.

These are my loves. We don't get a whole lot of family time because of our crazy hectic schedules, so the slow rhythm of our one day off together is much anticipated. Elliot still has class, but we have the morning and most of the afternoon to do as we please. Well, sometimes that involves things like trips to Target, babyproofing, grocery shopping, vacuuming (finally) and other menial tasks that don't get done on our usual tag-team-parent days. But still.

This morning I made strawberry pancakes (baby no likey...as usual) and the kiddo took a rare hour and a half nap. I even got to tweeze my eyebrows, something every new mama considers a luxury. This afternoon I have an appointment for a bang trim (unheard of!) and then we'll bum around downtown until the kiddo's bedtime.  

I live for these moments. Time to enjoy our babe, each other, and probably a non-fat, no-whip mocha.  We're crazy like that.

Joining the Ranks.

I've never done this before.  It feels silly.

Welcome, friends!  Wait, nobody's there.  Good.  I'm not ready yet.

I'm here because my brain hurts.  I have a baby who won't nap more than 30 minutes, it's never going to stop raining, we don't have cable, and, um, I have a baby who won't nap longer than 30 minutes.  I'm tired, and I'm feeling complain-y, and I need to find a way to slow down my head.  I am not a writer.  I hate writing.  But I have a head full of things that I want to remember and at times during the average day I find myself reflecting on such incredibly minute details that I can't sort through them all.  So.

Did you guys know you're only supposed to use one space between the end of one sentence and the beginning of the next? It's not easy, just changing an old habit like that (note that I didn't do it above. I just remembered. Again.) Let's say I started a blog just to practice my spacing. It sounds a lot less silly than, "I want to vent my innermost thoughts and feelings," no?

Why do so many moms blog? Why do we feel like we have such profound thoughts that we might gather our own flock of dedicated readers?

Motherhood is, at times, incredibly lonely. It is also paradoxical. I had to look that up to make sure it was the right word. See? Not a writer. Maybe I'll get better.

Anyway. Parenthood is a land of opposites. Never before have I found joy in such small things, yet been so incredibly bored. A friend of mine has said, "There have never been so many hours in a day, yet so few days in a year." Time passes in the blink of an eye, but at times I find myself literally counting the minutes until bedtime. There's a great website out there for new mamas struggling with this concept. It's called The Longest Shortest Time. Go check it out!

This first year of my daughter's life has taught me one hundred million things about myself.  About patience, acceptance, routine, mindfulness, and misconceptions. I'm here because I want to remember these things.  I want to reflect on those small moments in life--those things I might have otherwise overlooked or filed away in my head somewhere--I want them all written down. Maybe I'll learn from them. Chances are, I'll just be embarrassed to read this later. I'm embarrassed to read it now. Talking about this stuff has never come naturally to me, and I know I'm not alone in that. I think that's why you find so many mama blogs out there. Our friends don't care about this stuff. They don't care that I spent an entire precious nap picking the lint out of the baby's diaper velcro tabs instead of cleaning my much-neglected kitchen floor because taking care of the small things helps me feel more in control. That's a weird new-mama thought. And I've got to put it down somewhere, you know?

And another place to fill with baby pictures can't hurt.  Lookee!

If I can come back and read this tomorrow without my face turing beet red in shame, maybe I'll tell someone about it. In the meantime, I'll just keep going. And breathing. And getting through the days, yogurt mess and all.