Our Impossible Adoption Story
If you're looking for the unbelievable account of how "impossible" became "done" in 5 business days, start here.
January Through the iPhone
I know, I know: Who even remembers January?
I only do because I have pictures.
Pictures of new adventures and a wide-eyed toddler, because January was mostly about the view.
The view from the front window, or the bedroom window. Our views on food. The view from the parking lot – of vast landscapes of fresh snow, or a flurry of sky lanterns taking our burdens and the lies we believed far, far away. Views of a cloth diapered butt in the morning light.
Mine eyes have seen the glory of a fresh start, and, actually, it’s a lot like fresh snow. (Which mine eyes have also seen a lot of lately.) It’s gentle, but merciless. Quiet, but demanding. Soft, but dangerous, and the gentle weight of it muffles the background noise.
Oh, and it’s sparkly.
Meatball has given me a new view. Some of it he’s been working on almost his whole life (talk about dedication), and some of it is new.
Like food. Since he started eating pureed food at six months old, I haven’t been able to shake this nagging feeling that I should know what I’m feeding him. And now he only wants what we’re eating, so it’s kind of hitting the road and it’s changing the way I look at food.
And, more recently, winter. Don’t get me wrong, I hate the cold, but watching a toddler experience his first real winter is pretty magical. I played in the snow for the first time in over a decade. I deliberately stood outside longer than I needed to, so we could breathe deep and turn our faces toward the falling snow.
He held one arm tight around my neck and with the other he pointed at where the snow was coming from. “OOHHH!” he insisted.
“Snow,” I explained.
Arm still extended, face still open to the sky, he closed his eyes and waited. And waited. And when a clump of flakes landed on his cheek, he smiled and opened his eyes and tried to look down to watch it melt without moving his face. And then he closed his eyes and waited again. Read more…
The Definition of Irony
… is that I sat down at my desk this morning with a donut in my hand and saw a Tweet with a link that indicated the interview I did with my nutritionist-mom-blog-friend posted on her site yesterday. Fail.
In my defense, the baby’s molar from hell is giving him a really hard time this morning, and we’re out of oatmeal at the house so I just had a kale smoothie for breakfast, and after I dropped El Meatball off at his friend’s house I had to run back in for my wallet. All of which is to say this morning was crazy and I was really hungry, so I scrounged a couple dollars together for a donut on my way to the office.
Don’t judge me.
Out-loud
I really like Sarah and her blog. She’s a nutritionist, but she’s also a working mom with a toddler so she gets it. She doesn’t throw down impossible recipes or make me feel like a terrible mom for occasionally feeding my baby inorganic veggies. When I told her I like Taco Bell, she agreed. I like her.
She’s starting a new series spotlighting real moms who are trying to feed their families real food, and when she emailed me about participating, I was pretty sure she’d OD-ed on quinoa or something. But I answered her questions and told her I wouldn’t be offended if she didn’t want to use – or at least didn’t want to start with – mine.
But she did. So you should go check it out here.
Some of my other faves from Sarah:
- Breakfast in a Hurry: Oatmeal Toaster Pancakes
- 5 Ways to Nurture a Healthy Relationship with Food
- Immune-Boosting Tips for Kids
Clicky some things. Leave her some comment love on our interview – Tell her what a fraud I am, or that yes – duh – everyone packs left-overs like that. 😉
3 Ways Living With a Toddler is Like Fasting
I used to fast. Especially, as is probably the case with a lot of people, early in my life as a Christian. Once I got pregnant, obviously, that changed, and I haven’t really fasted for almost two years now.
Recently our church decided to fast together for three weeks. It was up to the individual to decide how/what kind of fast was right for her, and as I considered how I could participate – since El Meatball since nurses several times a day – I realized:
My whole life is kind of a fast.
Three ways that living with a toddler is like fasting:
1 – You’re in prayer more often than usual.
And all the mamas in the house said …
Please, God, let him fall asleep.
Please, Lord, let him stay asleep.
Jesus, please let that not be poo. Read more…
Tempter Tantrums
You know ’em. What do you do? What did you do? My kid’s not the only one who actually hurts himself occasionally, right? And I’m not the only parent who doesn’t feel bad when that happens, right?
Did I tell you about the time I felt a different kind of bad about his temper tantrum?
We had a busy day. Surprise surprise, and he went about two and a half hours longer between nursing than he ever has. (Yes, he still nurses. Judge me.) And I started to feel it about an hour before I went to get him, but that’s happened before, and it didn’t seem like a big deal.
Later that night it was a big deal, and I texted a friend:
Me: Oh. My. Word. He didn’t nurse for six and a half hours today, and even though he’s nursed twice in the past two hours, I feel like my right arm is going to fall off.
Friend: Feeling a little full?
Me: Like there’s a boulder in my tiny little boob.
An hour later, the Meatball and I were getting ready to go to church for a Small Group – partially for the Small Group and partially so sick Husband could rest, and he was characteristically unhappy about having to put his coat on. (His super awesome coat. It’s like the kid has zero style. I don’t get it.)
So I sat him in my lap like I always do, wiggled his arms through his sleeves like I always do, and then he arched his back like he always does and BAM – angry toddler reverse head-butt to the already cripplingly painful boob.
Me: Aaand he just head-butted the terrible tiny. Mid-temper tantrum. I am dying.
Later, there was a conversation about a plugged milk duct that I’ll spare you, and 24 hours later we were back to normal.
But the temper tantrums
Make it stop. Somebody? Anybody? What did you do? What works? What doesn’t?
Recipe: Honey Oat Crackers
Crackers are a toddler staple, right? Right.
But I’m still being that mom who scowls at ingredient lists on grocery store boxes, so I got on Pinterest to get some help making crackers that aren’t loaded with hydrogenated things and lots of sugar and food dyes and “natural” flavors. With a couple tweaks on one recipe I found, we ended up with these really yummy honey oat crackers.
Bullets:
- 1/2 C rolled oats
- 3/4 C whole wheat flour
- 2 Tbsp dried honey*
- 1/4 tsp salt
- 1/2 tsp baking powder
- 1/2 tsp cinnamon, or to taste**
- 4 Tbsp butter, cold
- 3 Tbsp honey
- 1/4 tsp vanilla
- 2 Tbsp water
Numbers: Read more…
Spits and Wiggles 