Still in there

Becoming a Mama has been an...interesting journey. Not all of it has been pleasant. I'm not talking about the sleep deprivation or the constant poop clean-up. Those things, I think, are pretty much expected and (somewhat) easily dealt with. Your body basically adjusts to having broken sleep, and skin is highly washable. Not even the mightiest of diaper disasters can scare me, especially now. No, the most difficult part of the past year has been the struggle to hold on to my former self, or at least a few tiny shreds. I know you know what I'm talking about.

I had so many grand visions of what motherhood would look like. I would wear my baby about town doing all the things I used to do: we'd snuggle in coffee shops. I'd read to her in the book store. She would be an extension of myself--a tiny, sweet reflection of both her father and me. Everyone has these dreams of parenthood, I think. Were it not for ideals, we wouldn't bother having kids, right? Sure, there would be struggles, but we'd persevere, holding our heads high and telling tales of the tough times at dinner parties.

These moments are actually pretty rare. Babies are heavy!

I couldn't have been more wrong about the early days of motherhood. My perfect, romantic homebirth gave way to a hospital transfer and much-dreaded cesarean after three grueling days of labor. The baby whom I'd pictured sliding out of my body and onto my chest in a pool of water, the baby who was supposed to grunt and latch immediately to my breast was instead pulled and yanked from me and whisked away. Instead of crawling cozily into my own bed and drifting to sleep with my perfect pink little bundle I was laid up in a hospital bed, unable to move on my own. Unable to respond to my daughter's cries without help.

This is not how I expected to meet my daughter, but I love this photo. 

Little E's birth was my first lesson in letting go. Now almost a year later, I'm still struggling with this concept. I've read it all on a hundred blogs, heard it all from a hundred friends. Let the dishes pile up, they say. Soak up every minute, because they grow so fast, I've read. And I know. Looking back, I know this is sound advice. The only problem is, sometimes I want to do the dishes. Sometimes, in order to be happy in the present moment, I first have to find time to put the laundry away. I miss cooking. I miss scrubbing my bathroom until it gleams. And lately, I've learned I can do both. I can have fun with my girl and get crafty. Really.

This weekend was crazy. At first I thought I'd yet again bitten off more than I could chew. So many ingredients! Multiple trips to the store! There's no way!

I wanted to make jam for my soon-to-be mother and sister-in-law for Mother's Day. It turns out, going out and buying all the ingredients to make jam with fruit that's not quite yet in season isn't really a good idea cost-wise, but I think we broke even. I tossed a vanilla pod in with the simmering strawberries to make it a little more special than store-bought varieties. Success! 

Next up: Opa's birthday cake. Oh boy. I've had this heap of sugary, peanut buttery doom bookmarked for months, and couldn't wait to test it out. I called a girlfriend over to entertain the baby and took my time with the assembly, taking frequent breaks to dance and nurse and gossip and drink some fantastic dark beer. Four hours later, we had ourselves a cake!

I almost passed out just from licking the frosting from my fingers. And the spatula. And the bowl. And the mixer paddle...you get my drift. It took all day, and that is precisely my point here. It's okay to spend an entire day baking a cake if that's what you want to do. It's also okay to spend the whole day in your pajamas. Or two hours primping in the bathroom to make yourself feel pretty, provided you have someone to come make silly faces at the baby while you take some time once in a while. 

New parents spend so much time fretting over the small things, so much time feeling guilty and agonizing over every decision. Six months ago, there's no way I could've pulled off a two-day kitchen marathon. It takes time to get to this point, and it also requires good friends and a relatively independent child. But it's good to know I'm still in there, somewhere.

Cheeky baby

It seems as though this past weekend's flurry of activities has caught up with my babe. She's been fighting a cold for a while now, or maybe it's just due to teething (we can never really tell, which is totally awesome) and the poor dear is feeling quite under the weather. Luckily for us, she has adorable cheeks to nom...and the best sad face ever.

Time for some extra snuggles, some time spent in a steamy bathroom, and a few sleepless nights. It may not exactly be Mama to the rescue, but at least we'll get some cute pictures out of the deal.

On Mother's Day and getting out of my own way

This weekend was (my very first!) Mother's Day. The celebration lasted all weekend and involved a lot of time in the kitchen and ridiculous amounts of sugar. I'll write more about what I made in another post, but let's just say I may need to give my poor pancreas a break for a while.

Thursday and Friday were spent gathering ingredients and carefully planning my time to get everything done despite millions of distractions from a curious almost-toddler. Not an easy task, but we made the best of it and everything came together without one Mama (or baby) meltdown.

On Friday afternoon we packed up the car and headed down to visit Elliot's family in Steilacoom. Little E's Opa had a birthday this week so we combined celebrations with Mama's Day. I didn't get any pictures (Megan, however, did) but there was a lot of couch time, food, and babies poking each others' eyes out. Fun times!

 Here's the hardest part of an event like (my very first!) Mother's Day: I get excited. When you live in my brain, getting excited about something almost always spells disappointment. I am a master of setting huge expectations, watching everything crash and burn, and getting all stompy in the aftermath. This is so much fun for everyone around me, I'm sure. It started out ugly. Sunday morning looked like this:

This view is not unusual this time of year. Actually, it's completely expected. EXCEPT on (my very first!) Mother's Day. Things were not looking good.

Elliot had to work all day. This was actually okay by me, as Little E and I had plans to have coffee with one of my very best girlfriends. Around mid-morning, our coffee date was cancelled. Stomp, stomp, stomp. Things were definitely not looking good.




One of the biggest challenges of motherhood, for me, has been getting out of the house alone with the baby. I am not a particularly motivated person and I've never been adventurous. Adding a baby into the mix means it's nearly impossible for me to get up the gumption to leave the house unless I have a friend with me. It is a challenge, but I am doing my very best to get beyond my anxieties (and laziness) and just get out there. This Sunday was a prime example of why I need to get out of my own way, put on real pants and go outside, kiddo in tow. We had a lovely afternoon, Little E and me.

One of the reasons I was so excited about this weekend was that it wasn't only (my very first!) Mother's Day, but also the opening day for our neighborhood farmer's market. I've been eagerly awaiting the first market of the season for weeks, perhaps months. The selection is meager this early in the season, but the energy is amazing. It seems everyone comes out of hibernation to get their hands on the first tender bunches of asparagus and onion tops. We soaked up a tiny bit of afternoon sunshine and took pictures of the still-pale tomatoes. I sipped lemonade, bought flowers and ran into some friends I haven't seen in far too long.

Little E was thrilled to spend the afternoon with her Auntie Wendy, and I was happy to receive the enormous pile of new reading material she brought for me. 

I'm working on getting out of my shell more and more, difficult as it is at times. I have to remind myself to just keep moving, not to think so much, not to set impossible expectations. I'm almost a year into this mama gig and I'm just now starting to see glimpses of my former self, the woman who got lost in the baby haze. I'm also seeing bits of a new me, of the mama I'm becoming, and I'm excited about getting comfortable in this new life. I just need to stay out of my own way.

My pretty baby, just because.

I hope everybody had a lovely Mother's Day weekend, whether it was your very first or your fiftieth. We do get the whole weekend, you know! 

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.