Our House is not Childproof

One of my highlights over the past few months is a group of women I cook with. We have been getting together about once a month, at different houses, and I’ve enjoyed these dates immensely. All of the women in the group except me are from either Guatemala or Mexico, which means that I’ve been learning to cook many delicious foods that I’d never previously heard of.

Many of these foods, as delicious as they are, I will never try again because they are deep fried in oil which:

1) seems especially unhealthy to me and

2) scares me. (Picture me working as a cook for a camp. Picture me and one of the other cooks making lunch one day: hush puppies fried in oil and fish fried in oil. Picture us both with our backs turned for a minute – a minute. Picture ceiling-high flames. Picture a lot of baking soda everywhere. Picture all of the hungry campers eating leftover pea soup and lukewarm hotdogs. Enough said.)

In any case, I do enjoy these cooking dates, as much for the company and the chance to practice Spanish as for the food.

Last night it was my turn to host our little group. I think I have to put quite a bit more brainpower into getting ready to have the group to my house, and that is because I am the only woman in the group who does not have children. Therefore, my house is the only house in the group that is neither child-friendly nor childproof before the ladies come.

I thought hard. “Toys!” I thought. “They will bring their kids, so I should have some toys available.” So I borrowed some toys from the library story hour supplies. And as an extra flair, I checked out some board books from the library for the kids to look at.

“DVDs!” I thought. So I tied the door handles to our DVD cupboard together so no little ones could get in there to play.

“Chocolate!” I hid the bowl of chocolate that normally sits on our coffee table in our bedroom.

“Books!” I took most of the books that would be in reach and hid those in the bedroom as well.

In spite of my careful preparation, these are a few things I learned from having a toddler in our house last night:

1) Carpet in the kitchen is always bad idea. Carpet in the kitchen is an especially bad idea when eating chili. With toddlers. Who want to feed themselves.

2) Chocolate desserts are probably also not a good idea when toddlers are in the fully-carpeted house, especially when they may make a mad dash with a fistful of it.

3) We will not have glass coasters when we have toddlers. Even though they survived one night, they were used as cymbals more than once. I don’t think they will be asked to survive years of toddlers.

4) Heavy glasses are not suitable beverage holders for toddlers.

5) Yarn tied around door handles, even when the yarn is knotted, is not enough to fend off a persistent toddler.

6) Magnets look delicious and therefore must all be tasted. Magnets should be out of reach of toddlers unless they are meant to go in mouths.

7) Everything that is just out of reach but still in sight is probably the most interesting thing a toddler could possibly find to play with and must therefore be reached, no matter the cost.

8) Crayons are for eating. According to toddlers.

9) Food that is not available to be eaten at a given time should not be on eye level with toddlers, even when the food happens to be raw potatoes or seasonings.

10) Candles in glass jars on the coffee table? Mmm-mmm. Nope.

I learned a lot.

Our house simply is not yet childproof.

“But,” I told Mark last night as we scrubbed chocolate goo off the cupboard doors and picked up stray beans and rice crispies, “I haven’t changed my mind about wanting one.”

Pumpkin Macaroni and Cheese

“Be thankful for the little things,” is, of course, very good advice.

One of the little things for which I am thankful for today is our oven. It’s not a very pretty oven at the moment, not very clean, but it has this wonderful feature: a ‘timed bake’ setting. I can put a dish in my oven, set the oven to turn on at a certain time, on a certain temperature, and stop baking at a certain time.

Probably many people have ovens like this, but my family never had one while I was growing up, so I am still relishing the novelty of coming home from work to a casserole bubbling in the oven.

In theory, that is how the ‘timed bake’ setting works, but because I had been distracted this morning, I remembered to set the timer on the oven, but forgot to switch it from ‘off’ to ‘timed bake.’ So, when I got home from work, the oven was ‘off’ and my macaroni and cheese was stone cold.

That was OK, though, because Thursday nights are usually my non-busy nights. And I was so excited about what was in the oven that nothing could puncture my buoyancy.

You see, I was not just eating macaroni and cheese tonight; I was going to be eating Pumpkin Macaroni and Cheese. Because it is fall. And one of the best ways to celebrate fall is with pumpkin. (Even if the pumpkin puree used is actually part of last year’s pumpkin that has been sitting in the freezer for a year.) Due to the unusual mix of ingredients, I was eager to see how it would turn out.

It turned out delicious.

See?

I could hardly taste the pumpkin at all in this dish. I can’t decide if that made me happy or sad, but either way, this dish opened up in my mind all kinds of doors for sneaking pureed vegetables into casseroles, especially for picky eaters like my brother and my dad. Why not pureed broccoli? Or pureed cooked spinach?

I now enjoy delightful fantasies of inviting my picky-eating brother and dad over for dinner sometime. Unbeknown to them, as they make polite conversation and compliment our culinary achievements, they will be ingesting all manner of fiber, vitamins, and minerals that their bodies don’t normally get!

I am so excited.

Anyway, I would like to share the recipe with you. I pulled it out of the Better Homes and Gardens October magazine:

Pumpkin Mac and Cheese

2 c. dried elbow macaroni

2 T. butter

2 T. all-uprpose flour

1 c. whipping cream*

1 c. whole milk*

4 oz. Fontina cheese, shredded (1 cup)*

1 15-oz. can pumpkin

1 T. snipped fresh sage or ½ t. dried leaf sage, crushed

½ c. soft bread crumbs

½ c. grated Parmesan cheese

1/3 c. chopped walnuts

1 T. olive oil

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Cook pasta in a large pot following package directions; drain. Return to pot.

2. In medium saucepan melt butter over medium heat. Stir in flour, ½ t. salt, and ½ t. black pepper. Add cream and milk all at once. Cook and stir over medium heat until slightly thickened and bubbly. Stir in Fontina, pumpkin, and sage until cheese is melted. Stir sauce into pasta. Transfer to ungreased 2-quart rectangular baking dish.

3. In bowl, combine bread crumbs, Parmesan, nuts, and oil; sprinkle over pasta. Bake, uncovered, 30 minutes or until bubbly and top is golden. Let stand 10 minutes before serving. Garnish with sage.

*We did use the whipping cream and whole milk this time, but next time we’re going to try it with a less heavy option (probably our standard 1% milk, maybe some half and half.) We did not use the Fontina cheese because it’s kind of expensive. We used some shredded Colby-jack and shredded parmesan.

Practicing to be Pet Owners

Even though Husband and I are absolutely blessed by our little rental house, one thing about it makes me sad: we are not allowed to have pets.

Sigh.

Husband grew up with a collie and then later a golden retriever, and he would really like to replicate that experience at some point in our marriage.

I only ever had cats. As in, I had two cats but also had countless cat posters plastered to my bedroom walls.

Husband doesn’t want a cat. At all. Thankfully for Husband, I am more than willing to get a dog someday. I’ve always wanted a pet I can take for walks.

We’re getting a chance to practice being pet owners this week as we house sit and pet sit for an older couple from our church.

This is Riley, our child for the week:

 Isn’t she cute?

Definitely not a collie or a golden retriever, but I’m having fun putting my nurturing instincts to some kind of use.

I don’t mean to toot my own horn or anything, but Husband was the one who grew up with dogs and has that dog knack. However, I am the one who has a little fluffy white shadow for the week.

When we’re getting ready to leave for work, Husband and I usually stand by the front door and pray while hugging (adorable, yes, I know). This morning, though, contrary to tradition, we had to pray with about a foot of space between us. Every time Husband put his arms around me, Riley went a little bananas, barking and bouncing in a distressed manor. My shadow is also a protector. How sweet!

I think part of the reason that Husband has not secured the undying affection of Riley the way I have is because he just doesn’t encourage her enough. Tonight Riley had been sitting by me on the couch and jumped down. Husband wanted her to jump back up and sit by him. This is what happened:

“Riley, come sit by me,” Husband says while casually patting the seat beside him. Riley stares at him from the ground.

“No, that’s not how you do it,” I respond. “Watch: Riley! Come here! Come sit by me!” I sing in a high-pitched baby voice (which I vow never to use with my real babies), and enthusiastically pat the couch next to me.

Riley takes a running start and jumps up to sit beside me.

“See? You have to show some excitement if you want Riley to sit by you,” I say.

“Riley should be naturally excited to sit by me,” is Husband’s response.

"Hope" is the Thing with Feathers

I’ve always had a tendency to jump to conclusions, emotionally, if not mentally. So, Logical Me may calmly say to myself, “Things will be alright,” and “You haven’t figured anything out yet for sure,” and “You’ve just barely scratched the surface on what can be done to make Family-of-Two into Family-of-Three,” but that doesn’t do anything for Emotional Me, who’s too busy wailing and crying to hear anything Logical Me is saying.

That is why, even though I know all of those things to be true, I was too upset to go to work yesterday.

It started with trying to call our insurance company (generally a frustrating if not downright upsetting experience for me anyway) to find out if another doctor’s exam for a second opinion would be covered by our insurance. It is, but it took me my peace of mind to find that out.

And somewhere in all the waiting on the line, I became more and more convinced that at least for the day I could not face the myriads of munchkins and their pregnant moms at the library. Normally I love all of our children’s programs and I love interacting with all the young moms.

But not yesterday.

So, I called in sick. I figure that being sick at heart is still just being sick.

But while sitting at home, working on our ESL lesson for our class tonight, I found this little gem of a poem, a poem that I have loved since college but had forgotten about until now. Normally Emily Dickinson isn’t the cheeriest of writers, but this little poem makes me happy. It puts a picture to what I want to have inside me and what I want others to see in me. And I would like to share it with you:

 “Hope” is the thing with feathers

“Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;

And sore must be the storm

That could abash the little bird

That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chillest land,

And on the strangest sea;

Yet, never, in extremity,

It asked a crumb of me.

--Emily Dickinson

Further Fading of the Honeymoon Effect

Even though I’ve been wrestling with some pretty heavy emotions on our weekend get-away, I have also enjoyed myself. Immensely.

On this vacation I was looking forward to:

a) sleeping in

b) shopping for a few clothing items

c) reading for hours

d) watching a movie or two with Wonderful Husband

Check, check, check and check.

On Saturday afternoon, as we were sitting in our suite, I was reminded of our honeymoon, a little over two years ago. I couldn’t help but chuckle, however, because I noticed one key difference. See if you can pick it out.

Here are two photos from the one rainy afternoon we spent in our cabin on our honeymoon:

And here are two more photos from our one afternoon spent in our suite on this little vacation:

Can you see what’s different?

Yep, you got it.

Honeymoon: “I want to be with you all the time! I’m so happy we can finally be together whenever we want! Whatever you’re doing, I want to do too!”

Now: “I love you. I’m glad I’m here with you. You can do what you want, but this is what I want to do right now.”

Don’t get me wrong; we enjoyed each other’s company on this vacation and the pictures, of course, do not show the time we did get to spend laughing and talking and cuddling together.

But isn’t the contrast just kind of funny? While doing premarital counseling and learning about the ‘honeymoon effect’ and how it would wear off between one and two years, I thought, “Never! That just doesn’t sound like fun at all. I want to feel this romantic for my entire marriage.”

Yeah. Suuuuuuure, Hillary.

Blessed be Your Name, Even When...

Even though I started this blog a few months ago with the purpose of being content while waiting to be a mother, I have mostly shied away from sharing my thoughts and feelings on this issue. My goal was to focus my gaze on the other blessings that God has poured out upon me and my husband and search for how God was using us here. And now. Not on how God will use us when He gives us a baby.

That is still my goal. I still want to be used by God here and now, and I do not want to take for granted all of that which I have to be thankful for.

However, today I also need to remind myself of God’s goodness and God’s faithfulness. I need to give myself a pep talk.

This morning my husband and I woke up in our hotel room, on our much-anticipated weekend vacation. My cousin’s fiancé works for a hotel in the ‘big city’ about 50 miles away and was able to get us an amazing discount on a suite, and we feel very blessed to be able to spend time away from home on a small budget.

One of the things that we are enjoying while we are here is continual internet access. (We don’t have internet access at home and must content ourselves with visits to the library or coffee shops to spend time online.) So, of course, one of the first things we both found ourselves doing this morning was checking e-mail, even checking Facebook.

“Hill, [Friend-from-church] has a picture on Facebook that you should really see,” I hear as I’m putting on make-up in the bathroom.

“Oh, OK.” Friend-from-church has a fun and quirky sense of humor, so I am anticipating a picture that will make me chuckle, shake my head, and sigh.

Instead, when I come to look, I see a picture announcing very clearly (but of course in a fun and quirky way) that Friend-from-church and her husband are expecting a baby. They are expecting their baby to be born next May, about the same time as my beautiful sister-in-law and her husband are expecting their baby to be born.

My initial response upon realizing what this picture means is not joy, but jealousy. And sadness. And then guilt because my initial response was not joy.

I try to give myself a little bit of slack, though, because I know that some of my strong feelings come from a doctor’s appointment I had less than 24 hours before seeing this Facebook announcement.

An appointment that was less than encouraging and also less than conclusive.

 An appointment at which I heard in not so few words, “You will probably need to use fertility treatments if you want to have your own children.”

“Your body may not be able to sustain a child through a pregnancy without help.”

Traitorous words. Traitorous body.

And I know, the doctor may be wrong. The doctor may not have all the information he needs yet. And what’s so very bad about fertility treatments anyway? Probably nothing.

But even so, I can’t stop the anguished questioning of God inside of me: “Why her? Why not me? They haven’t been married as long as we have! I’m sure they haven’t even been wanting this baby as long as we have!”

I don’t mean to sound melodramatic, or wimpy. I know there are so many women who have much, much more heart-wrenching stories, have been feeling empty-arm pain much, much longer and much, much more acutely than I have.

But even so, the pain is still there, and I still need to address the God whom I love and serve and who I have believed is good, oh so good, in the past.

A teacher of mine once told me that we sing songs like “Blessed Be Your Name” when times are good and it’s easy to believe God is good as a sort of exercise and muscle-building for when times are bad and it’s not so easy to see God’s goodness.

That way, when life gets hard in one way or another, the refrain

Blessed be Your name
On the road marked with suffering,
Though there's pain in the offering
Blessed be Your name.

Every blessing You pour out
I'll turn back to praise.
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say

Blessed be the name of the Lord,
Blessed be Your name!
Blessed be the name of the Lord,
Blessed be Your glorious name!

will play in our heads and we will remember, Yes, God is good. God can use this for good. Even when this doesn’t make sense to me, God is still good.

I can remember this song. I am able to say with my words (even if my feelings aren’t so sure), Yes, God is good. And I know that this one itsy bitsy difficult time will strengthen me and prepare me. I will come to know more deeply the One who is infinitely more precious than a thousand babies, and He will be my strength and my song.

Yes, God is still good!

Natural Hair Care Update

Natural Hair Care

About one month ago, I wrote about how my husband and I were going to start a shampoo-free hair care regimen. (See our plan for natural hair cleanser here.) We have not used any shampoo or conditioner for a month, and I can safely say that we’re overall pleased with the results.

I currently wash my scalp all over (I can’t really say I ‘wash my hair,’ because the scalp is what needs to be washed, not the hair) every four days. I do, however, was the hair right around my face and down the center part on the top of my head every other day. The oilier complexion of my face makes this necessary, especially for my bangs, which rest against my forehead.

This is what my hair looks like on day four (I’ll be washing tomorrow):

For the first three weeks, I was using an apple cider vinegar hair clarifier (a conditioner and detangler) after the ‘big wash,’ once every four days. My hair began to look pretty frizzy after a while, which could have been the result of a couple of different factors:

1) Too much baking soda in the hair washing stage

2) Not enough moisture being put into my hair via the apple cider vinegar clarifier

3) A dry, dry, dry September (as in, the air was so dry and dusty between no rain and farmers harvesting that a ban was eventually put on farmers being in the fields because the heat from their machinery kept catching crops on fire. This resulted in several fire emergencies a day for a while.)

I did not handle this dilemma like a good scientist and switch one variable at once. Instead I switched all three:

1) I started using less of the baking soda wash (going by a ‘less is more’ motto)

2) I just recently switched to using a honey and water hair clarifier, which is supposed to be more moisturizing than apple cider vinegar.

3) The humidity has gone up with the blessing of some rain, and the dust has gone down.

My hair looks less frizzy now. I may go back to the apple cider vinegar hair clarifier soon and see how that affects my hair. I would really like to be able to use the apple cider vinegar instead of honey because honey is much more expensive.

Oil Face Cleaning Method

On another personal hygiene note, I also decided to try the oil face cleaning method that Tsh Oxenreider posted on here. I was really skeptical, because my face is naturally oily and pretty acne-prone.

After doing a little bit of research on this facial cleaning method, this is the procedure I decided on:

Face-Cleaning Oil

75% castor oil (a drying oil)

25% extra virgin olive oil (a moisturizing oil)

I store this in a jelly jar in our medicine cabinet.

To wash my face, I put about a quarter size dribble into my hand and massage all over my dry face. I do not wet my face at all or clean off make-up before I start. The castor oil will clean my face well enough. I do not scrub; I just massage.

Then, I take a washcloth and soak it with hot water. I lay this on my face until it cools to room temperature (I think this takes about two minutes, but I don’t really count because this is so relaxing.) Then I massage my face again a little.

I rinse out the washcloth with hot water and use the washcloth to wipe all extra oil off of my face. I rinse out the washcloth again, and I’m done.

I love this. I didn’t think I would, but I do. Using this method, I only need to wash my face once a day. Previously, when I was using a synthetic store-bought face wash, I would wash my face twice a day. I don’t find that my face needs that anymore. And I seem to be dealing with a little less acne, although it will take a couple months for me to be able to really tell if there’s a difference.

Overall, I feel pretty good about both my hair and my face. We’re using natural non-toxic ingredients, and it’s all pretty cheap. Even the face wash, though an investment initially, seems to be cheaper overall because I use the oil so slowly.

I do wonder, though, how realistic this kind of hair care and facial care would be for someone with kids. What mom has time to lay a hot washcloth over her face for two minutes with children running around?

Any thoughts?