Making pie

Me: Jack, we've got work to do tonight. We've got to make pies.
Jack: yay! Is it gonna be bacon pie?! Or frosting pie with cookies?!

lemonade

Just one example of what I'm up against with this almost three year old.

I was sitting by the fire, and Jackson was up his stool scanning the kitchen for something interesting.  He'd already spent a few minutes "washing dishes" and slid the stool down a few feet for some other entertainment.

"Oh, a lemon!"  He grabs out a lemon from the fruit basket (which has been there too long, and is rock hard on the outside, but fine inside) and heads my way chattering. "Mom, we can juice it with a (pause for the right word) thingy, then we can make a lemon pie!  I will help you.  I'm a good helper!"

Me, "We could, but its kinda late to be making a lemon pie."
"Why"
"It takes a long time to make a pie, and we need to head upstairs for story time."
"But I'm a good helper"

It's five after 8, and I have no desire to make a lemon pie.  We made one a couple weeks ago, and Jackson helped, so I guess I brought this on myself.  But seriously, how can I outright turn down such an enthusiastic offer of help?  I suggested we make lemonade instead.  That boy had the heel of a loaf of bread with butter and chocolate milk for dinner, he could use something from another food group to even things out a bit.

That suggestion was accepted enthusiastically.  So I set to work sawing the lemon in half, picked up a fork and glass, and headed to the table for some help.  We got the lemon juiced without spraying much around the kitchen.  I scooped out the seeds, added water and sugar, and we had our lemonade.

Jackson had the first sip, and immediately blew bubbles through the straw.  So I had to chastise him.  A few minutes later, he blew bubbles again, then quickly apologized.  I chastised him again--out came his sad lower lip, and he said, "but mom, I just trying to say sorry."  So I backpedaled slightly, thanked him for apologizing, reminded him to be careful not to blow any more bubbles, and cheerfully shared the refreshing beverage. 

Powder

It snowed. It's the kind of snow that I haven't seen in New England yet--light and powdery and deep. Jackson was so excited to go outside. I made him wait until after breakfast, then get bundled up. The snow was hip deep on poor Jackson. I had to pick him up and put him down in new places because walking was out of the question for him. He had fun shoveling [snow back onto the paths that were cleaned off]. See Jason in the background, wearing his new full body hunting suit? I took a We took a pass around the yard on his sled. Jackson had some nibbles. Unfortunately, making a snowman was out of the question in this powder. I'm sure the next snowfall will be damp.

Here's a picture of Ming, the Chinese soldier who protects our home. He scares the bajeebees out of anyone who stops by after dark, including the residents. This storm turned him into a gnome.

After playing and digging out, we came back inside to get warm by the fire and enjoy hot chocolate (pictures courtesy of the last snow storm).

Rhubarb Pie

Jackson is making rhubarb pie--from something that might be considered scratch.

Beans

Beans have been a topic of conversation around here lately.
A couple of weeks ago at dinner time, Jackson was picking the few black beans I left unpulverized in the tacos and pronouncing, "Beans! Yumm!" (I questioned his parentage, that was definintely not a phrase anyone ever heard me say, enthusiastically or otherwise.)

And this evening, as he and Jason recounted the days events, Jason recalled, "and Mama gave you jelly beans."
Jackson replied, "Beans! [then, hugging jason] Ohhh Mamaam!"

I live for the hug and the "Ohhh Mamaam!"

Some comments on milk

I've been meaning to post about breastfeeding for a while. I actually have several posts to do on this. The mothers out there know what a rocky road it is. Today's topic is extended breastfeeding, something that's usually reserved for snide whispers. In this country its considered a bit weird, and I admit to having a mental stereotype of people who do it, something I had a little internal struggle with when we hit the 12 month mark.
The AMA recommends breastfeeding exclusive for the 1st 6 months, and continuing for "atleast" the first year. The WHO recommends 2 years. Why the discrepancy? Well, I think this country is struggling to overcome its midcentury belief that "only poor people breastfeed", "its gross", and "formula is best". After that PR nightmare (did the formula companies use the same ad agency as cigarettes? seriously!) 12 months may be a stretch goal. The WHO on the otherhand is trying to make sure that children in the undeveloped world get one of the few advantages mother's can afford. It's also the best tool they have to stave off waterborn illnness, a major cause of infant death, since there's no need to mix it with water.
Most American mothers try to breastfeed in the hospital, more than half don't make it 2 months. The ones who make it through say "whew" at the 12 month mark and swiftly switch to cow's milk. There is a small minority that keeps going. As a new mother, I had a goal of 6 months, and then see what happens. (After the first few days and weeks, that seemed like an impossible achievement--but that's another post). I read up a bit on the recommendations, and started prying open my own mind on the idea of extended nursing. Apparently, there's scant scientific evidence of the benefits of toddler nursing in the US, but numerous studies have tried to find the negatives (science to support public opinion?) and they didn't come up with any.
About a year ago, I saw my doctor for my 6 month post partum check-up. We were talking about breastfeeding, and she casually said how things would go...and then we'd be toddler nursing, night and morning... What-What!? I heard the electronic rewind screech in my mind when she said it.
At 12 months, we were still breastfeeding. Jackson loved it. The descriptives, "alactrity", "enthusiasm", and "gusto" are inadequate to convey his excitement for nursing, or the sense of urgency he puts into it. I'm away from my baby 9 hours a day, so I wasn't about to deny him something that is clearly so important to him.
I did decide to break him from the all night feeding. This was really hard! I tried to use a gradual method to stop it. I set up some rules. 1--Jackson had to sleep in his own bed (right next to mine) until 5am. 2--No picking up screaming child (and he screamed!!) 3--I would give him milk when he asked for it, but only from a bottle. 4--After a few weeks, I would start diluting the milk with water until it was just water. Amazingly, the strategy worked. The first few nights were brutal, but after a week, Jackson agreed to go back to sleep in his own bed, and within 6 weeks, he was sleeping without sustenance from 7:30-5:00 (sometimes 4:30) when he woke for milk, and went back to sleep for an hour. (Such a relief after over a year of hourly interrupted sleep).
This method meant that I still had to pack my pump to and from work, and keep my timeslot in the overpacked lactation room so that I would have milk for overnight. There was another woman with a child the same age as Jack. On his 1st birthday, she [smugly] posted a note regarding her freedom from the milk machine. I was feeling like the weird woman who was still breastfeeding--How old is that child!? Then I checked in on my friend in my old lactation room, and she was still feeding her son. I asked a few more people and found out that there are actually a bunch of us quietly continuing past the first year. Many of us are professionals, surprisingly continuing to put in the extra effort.
Jackson was already weaned during the day since he was driven to vampirism early. (see Milk, soap, and cheese.) That's not the case for everyone. I saw my friend this summer who has extended breastfed all of her children. I was impressed at her patience--she spent 1/2 hour exposed in the kitchen while her 14 month old suckled and napped intermittently.
We're now at 18 months, and continuing to nurse for some indeterminate length of time. Jack's enthusiasm has not waned. We've had a cold this weekend, and Jackson hasn't been able to breath and suck at the same time. The other night, he threw an absolute fit when he couldn't suckle. He was writhing around and bawling. Luckily Jason was home, and able to sit with him while I dug my pump out of the closet. I put the milk in a sippy cup, and Jackson bawled louder, refusing to take it. He was relieved when I put in into a bottle. I wasn't able to pump much milk, and the wailing resumed when it was gone. Fortunatley, I still have stock in the freezer.
There are studies that show that antibody levels in toddler breast milk are even higher than in milk produced for young babies. I noticed my milk looks thicker than it used to, and I'm glad I can offer it.
I don't see myself as someone who fits the typical stereotype of a la leche leaguer. I think I'm as close as an engaged parent gets to the opposite of that. I'm not someone who gushes about the bonding that comes from nursing. I don't experience that personally, although I think Jackson does. I nurse because I know it offers advantages in immunity, allergy prevention, IQ, and development. I'm skeptical about the food industry (apparently with good reason--so glad I'm not in China!), and I don't believe they can adequately synthesize a food that has evolved over millenia. I want to make sure my child has the advantages that are within my means to provide.
I hope reading my story widened your awareness a bit. I'm not going to tell anyone how to raise their children, but I want other mother's to know that its OK either way, and I'd like to dissipate some of the whispers uttered at the expense of those of us who take "atleast 12 months" to mean something besides "exactly 12 months".

Breakfast

My husband has created a monster.
The other day, Jackson and I were having breakfast. He gulped down his banana and juice, but wasn't eating his zucchini bread. I let him out of his high chair, and set his plate on a chair in case he wanted to snack. Then I went to make my lunch. A minute later, I heard a scaping noise on the floor. I turned to look, and Jackson was pushing the coffee table over against the couch. He'd brought his plate over and set it on the table. Then he climbed up onto the couch, and sat there banging the remote on the table.
Apparently, he and Jason have been sitting down in the morning to watch Dora the Explorer this way. Jack has a whole routine with the coffee table, his food, and a blanket.
It's adorable, but seriously!

Food of choice

Feeding a toddler is a crap shoot. I put little piles of this and that on his plate in hopes of him eating at least one. I assume every parent has their go to foods. That's probably why the kid's menus are loaded up with Mac-n-Cheese, chicken nuggets, hot dogs, & french fries. We try to stay away from most of these. We had our own list of foods to turn to when the family meal just didn't appeal: bananas, string cheese, buttered rice, hummus, & chicken. Lately, Jack won't even eat these. Those oh so helpful books claim that toddlers are fickle and sometimes just aren't hungry. That's nonsense. Jackson is famished every 3 hours. I think we've just already worn out the list of last resort. He's at the point where he couldn't possibly convince himself to eat another bite of egg! Thsi is way too soon for us to be out of options, by the way.
Now, I'm back to scrambling at mealtimes, and offering a series of things until Jack agrees to eat. Tonight, my go to food was Indian curry chicken. Yup--I made Indian special in a last ditch effort to get my boy to eat.
First, let me say how grateful I am to Trader Joe's for putting the sauce in a jar; not to mention grateful that TJ's is less than an hour away. I can go there occasionally to stock up on these crucial items. I shop at TJ's the way most people shop at warehouse clubs.
I'm wondering what it says about me as a parent that I'm already going through this much effort to bribe my child into eating. Am I coddling him too much? I'm sure if I had a 6 year old, I would direct him to the peanut butter stock in the pantry. I'm going to rationalize that its a bit different with a child this young. After all, he can't tell me what he'd rather eat (except to point to the freezer and the smoothie fixin's within). Besides, if I can't coax him into eating, I'm the one who suffers having to listen to his whining and pleas to be held in the short term, and a few hours later, listen to him wail when he wakes up starving in the middle of the night.
I will take credit that the current food of last resort is something as complex as Indian curry. Now if I could only convince him to eat some vegetables.

Leave me your toddler friendly choices in the comments section. Thanks.

Playing with food.

Here's a little video of Jackson laughing at the absurd. Enjoy it.

Crunchy, Red with Black Spots.

Major Breakthrough, Folks. Jackson has for the first (and maybe the last) listened and done what I told him to do. You see, in the fall, on the rare sunny days, the ladybugs flock to our warm, windowed, South facing home. They navigate the labyrinth of siding, ridge vents, and window screens. All winter long, we're infested. I desperately want to vacuum them up from the corners, cobwebs, and light fixtures, but I can't bring myself to do it. It's bad luck to kill the ladybugs.
Then, all winter long, when it warms up enough, the ladybugs reinervate and trade places. Finally, one by one, they die and drop to the floors. Which brings me to Jackson and his love of picking up little specs from the ground and placing them in his mouth, just as I'm shouting "Jackson, No, Yucky" in my crossest sounding voice. Sometimes he will voluntarily try to remove the ladybugs from his tongue. This is no easy task, and I have to reach in for either a whole bug, or the remaining head.
So, I am overjoyed that today when I shouted "Jackson, No, Yucky", my boy quietly put his hand to his side and gave me the same "What? I wasn't doing anything" look he offers when I catch him slipping food to the dog at the side of the high chair.

Spice

When I was a baby, the medical professionals were busy telling mothers to eat lots of bland food so as not to offend the baby with pungent flavors. These days, the recommendations have changed (as have so many others). Now they say eat what you love, eat lots of complex, tasty, smelly foods so as to cultivate those tastes in your children. Hurray for me and my peers!! Hurray for Jackson. It's working.

He likes Indian curry. He likes lentil soup. He likes pineapple (something to do with the 1-2 pineapples I ate each week while pregnant?). He also likes mole, argueably the best food ever invented. Last week we had mole--sadly not Blue Iguana, but a passable version from Trader Joe's. Jackson was eating it up!! He ate it and ate it and then made what appeared to be the international sign for "This food is too spicey!". You know, with his mouth open, tongue out, panting. So I gave him a little bite of sour cream. He went back to the mole with gusto, and we repeated. Towards the end, he may have made the connection between the mole and the spice because he refused to eat any more, but he had a good run with it.

Here's a pic post lentil soup. I had to hose him off afterward.

Pickles

A few weeks ago, we took Jackson out for Reubens at Rein's deli in Vernon (NY deli in CT). It was delicious. Jackson liked the pickles--A LOT.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is a time to gather and eat foods you would not normally think to prepare on dishes that are too fancy to eat standard fare upon. But its also a time to reflect and enumerate your good fortune. This year, I am grateful to have a wonderful husband and an incredibly child. I'm grateful to have been able to travel with them 2300 miles to visit our families and introduce Jackson to his kin. He was able to meet most of his family including all of his grandparents, most of his uncles, many of his cousins, 2 of his great aunts, and 5 great grandparents. Next visit, we'll be seeking out the rest of you--I want my son to know the people who were influential in my own life. I am also fortunate to have wonderful friends, a good job, and a peaceful country existence in the woods and with our animals. The day before Thanksgiving I even felt some gratitude for my beagle. Her love of food came to my aid when I needed help with a kitchen mess.

We had a lovely Thanksgiving at home in Connecticut. I spent the evening before and all day Thanksgiving cooking. There's a lot to cook when you're doing it yourself and you have unreasonable requirements that everything be made from scratch. This year, we ordered a free range turkey, and so we had to do our own brining. I heard about a maple brine recipe from "Fine Cooking Magazine" , so I found a copy of it and tried it out. http://www.cooking.com/recipes/static/recipe1048.htm You're supposed to start with a thawed turkey, but since we were in Utah the week before, my brine had to multi-task. Once brined, the turkey went outside to the smoker (Jason took care of most of this task). We had the turkey, garlic mashed potatoes, mushroom gravy, stuffing with nuts and cranberries (This is a placeholder for the link to the recipe), carrots and parsnips (from our neglected garden!), cranberry sauce, and apple and pumpkin pie. I think it was the most delicious Thanksgiving ever. [This is really blowing my own horn since my family makes a wonderfully delicious Thanksgiving. Mine was also simplified, so I missed out on Grandma's rolls, sweet potatoes, squash soup, salads, jello, and more pie].

I wanted Jackson to be a part of it, so I made some things with Olive oil instead of butter and made him his own individual mashed potatoes. The only thing he liked were the cranberries. Yes--really. I was shocked. I had to mash the berries out of the skins for him. Then I tried to mix in the turkey in disguise. He ate it, but I think he knew I was trying to pull a fast one over on him.

Friday, we had a great visit from our friends Nicole and Ben and Jamie and Andy with their three little boys, Harrison, Zane, and Ewan. Nik and Ben really need no introduction. Jamie is probably my oldest friend. We grew up on the same street and with the exception of the 6th grade, we've been friends since we were 4. It was wonderful to have a full house. It's normally VERY quiet here. Jamie's boys are rambunctious, and I think Jason enjoyed running around as much as they did.

Having company is also an excuse for Jason (and Ben) to bring out the explosives. For a while we were getting a call from next door everytime Nicole and Ben came up to make sure everyone was safe. Now, we make the call proactively. This time, Jason brought out the guns. The big and little boys all had a good time with them. Fortunately, there were no accidents. I understand that Zane (4) is now asking for a gun for Christmas. Sorry Zane. You'll shoot your eye out. I was pleased to see how helpful and patient Jason was showing the boys how to shoot.

Jamie cooked some Thai curry for us--skills she picked up during her 1.5 year stay there. The recipe was surprisingly easy, so we'll be trying it ourselves someday. http://sharinggoodeats.blogspot.com/2007/10/red-curry-chicken.html

Milk, soap, and cheese.

So, maybe you've heard me complain that Jackson barely eats during the day while I'm at work. Instead, he saves up to cluster feed in the evenings, and then all night long. Before I went back to work, he would cluster feed in the morning, and I had him down to one middle on the night waking and one early morning waking--when I should really get up anyway. Within a month, he'd completely changed his pattern and was getting up 5 times every night. I couldn't figure it out. He was getting the same milk, maybe he just didn't like the bottle?

Two weeks ago, I was driving to work, and it just hit me why he might be reluctant to eat while I'm gone. I remembered a few times the bottled milk had developed a strong odor. I just dismissed it as "normal" because I always follow the recommended food safety guidelines for milk storage. I have the Dr Sears Breastfeeding book, and I remember reading a single paragraph about the enzyme lipase, which breaks down the fat. It says that rarely, the lipase concentration is high, and the milk develops a "soapy" taste within about 24 hours. I interpret the word "rare" as "couldn't possibly happen to me, and probably not even anyone I know". I was surprised a few months ago when my friend said that she had that problem, and it took her a while to figure out, so she ended up wasting a lot of frozen milk.

So, I'd read about it, and heard about someone I knew with the condition, but it took me another 6 weeks to think that just maybe, I had the same problem. I went home and compared the days fresh milk with some milk that was a few days old, and quite possibly mixed with some frozen milk. The fresh milk tasted like cows milk with a ton of brown sugar stirred in. The older milk tasted terrible with an after taste that burned my throat. It was horribly. No wonder Jackson doesn't eat very much while I'm gone.

So I called my friend to see what she's doing to treat the milk. Unfortunately, I got her machine. Lucky for me, I have a whole world of information at my fingertips. Here's what I found out:
My first search was for "soap breast milk". I pulled up a whole string of websites with instructions on how to make homemade soap from your excess breast milk. Yes people, that's really what came up. Step by step directions and discussions of the antibiotic properties of breast milk thus the amazing wound cleaning power of the breast milk soap. Well, I'm glad to know there are all kinds of people in the world. I'm pretty open minded, but I don't think this one's for me.

I don't remember how I worded the next search, but the first thing to come up was a woman's account of her attempt to make--wait for it--breast milk cheese. You did read that correctly, cheese. Apparently, she's been using the breast milk around the kitchen, in omelets and brownies. She's also had some experience making fresh soft cow's milk cheese. What better use for the excess frozen human milk. So, she boiled the milk and added some vinegar to curdle it. Nothing happened, so she added more vinegar, and even more vinegar. At the end of the day, she'd added a ton of vinegar, and still didn't have cheese. As it turns out, human milk chemistry prevents curdling. The woman was heartbroken at having to waste all of that milk (I do sympathize), but I was relieved that no one had to eat that cheese.

I guess the third time really is the charm, because my next search netted the information I needed and no more shocking revelations about what the crazies are up to. The milk needs to be scalded at 180F or held at 160F for a few minutes. It's recommended to do this on the stove top in order to preserve the most nutrients. Many people use the microwave until the milk is "steamy" for the sake of convenience.

I went for the stove top, carefully pouring the milk into the pan and trying to pour it back. I lost quite a bit in the process. Since then, I've found I can simply put the glass bottles of milk in the pot of hot water (loosen the lids for safety), scald it, and put the bottles in the fridge to cool. No more spilled milk, not too inconvenient.

I still have 130 ounces of frozen disgusting milk (three days worth). I don't have the will to toss it. While I still respect Dr Sears on other topics, I blame him for the bad milk and for the sleepless nights. What they should have said is that ALL breastmilk contains lipase and sometimes the concentration is high enough to cause spoiling. If you notice strong odors, and your baby is reluctant to eat, your milk is probably affected. Then they should explain what to do about it. For being advocates of breast feeding, this bit of misinformation has probably led many women to give up.

Here's the website: http://www.indrani.net/index.php?q=2006/03/breast_milk_cheese