Category Archives: Recreation

And We All Had Fun

Well, Claire wound up sleeping until 12:15 p.m. today, woke to eat, then fell back asleep until 1:30, when we so rudely awoke her to depart for our dinner. We arrived, the food was assembled, we ate (the food was delicious). Claire remained awake and chipper in her bouncer until 3 p.m.; while I ate, I’d jiggle her rattles and play with her. We just finished eating when she became hungry. After she ate she was very tired; she began to fuss. Husband took her to a quiet room where she cried until she fell asleep on him around 4:15. We had dessert (apple pie, chocolate pecan bourbon pie, and fudge) and departed around 5:15. We were all relaxed; even the toddlers were well-behaved. And Stella had a good day:

bliss

Now it’s almost 8 p.m. and I’m tired. Husband put Claire to bed about an hour ago; I heard brief crying, then silence. (He’s sleeping on the floor of her room. It’s just easier to do that than climb up and down stairs constantly.) I should get some Zzzzzzs too. I’m so glad we went.

New photos of Claire are up at Flickr for friends and family! She’s getting all growed up — she’ll be 11 weeks old as of Saturday.

If I Bring It

Long ago when I started baking, I decided to make it a point of pride to learn how to make pie crust from scratch. My crusts never come out perfectly, but they do the job well enough. However, I have never had a massive failure — that is to say, I’ve never had dough that was too flaky, gooey, or dry to handle. I’ve always managed to get it rolled out large enough to cover the pan and topping (if it’s a two-crust pie) with enough to crimp the edges. You know, a proper pie crust.

Today I experienced pie crust structural failure. I made the dough last night and refrigerated it. Perhaps I measured the ingredients incorrectly. (Although how can you mess up something that’s made from flour, salt, shortening, and water?) I rolled out the bottom and barely got it into the pan. I patched the broken spaces. Then I tried to roll the top. Ugh. Flakes everywhere. It fell apart under pressure. I tried briefly warming the dough in the microwave, thinking the shortening might soften up. It actually started to cook the dough. In the end, I decided to stop fiddling and just deal with what was in front of me. I didn’t have the energy or heart to make more dough. I still have stuffing to make.

So I decided to plop the partial top crust onto the apples and call it avante garde apple pie. My friend (who’s hosting a bunch of us) had stopped by to watch Claire while I prepped, and he said it’ll taste good anyway. Apples and sugar and spice. What’s not to like? He made me promise to bring it. Do you think if I bring it, they will eat?

avant garde apple pie

[cross-posted at Knit Together]

Giving Meme

I have not participated in a meme of this sort in awhile, but Eden inspired me.

Here is the game (but I have changed “people” to “bloggers” for the sake of clarity):

By the end of the calendar year, I will send a tangible, physical gift to each of the first five bloggers to comment here. The catch? Each person must make the same offer on her/his blog.

Now I need to get inspired and do something. As if I have the time! (But I will make the time. ‘Tis the season, after all.)

Crossing The Rubicon

I faced a fear today.

About half a mile from my home is a large urban park with fountains, trees, green spaces, populated by geese and ducks, pigeons and seagulls. It’s close to a first-class public library. It’s a walkable distance to get there and would make a great daily walk destination. Except… to get there requires crossing a not-quite highway called an expressway. These are six-lanes (both ways) with extra lanes at intersections for turning, and with no-stop right-turn merge curves that many people hardly slow down while taking. Oh, there are crosswalks and pedestrian lights. However, the stated speed limit is 45 miles per hour, and I know people easily drive 20 miles per hour over the speed limit. I’ve crossed the road on my bike, but until today I was terrified to walk with Claire in the stroller (or even by myself). Well, terror might be an exaggeration; let’s just say prospect made me very uneasy. I mean, would you feel comfortable crossing this?

san tomas rubicon

When I started the walk I didn’t plan to go. My feet just took over. Except for the right-turn curves — where I made sure to look thrice and wait for oncoming drivers to slow down, see me, and wave me across — it was easily done. I will never attempt this at dusk, dark, or dawn, but I could see us taking walks there more frequently. I suppose I could load the stroller in the car and drive to the park, and save all the walking for the many paths, but a) it seems like a lot more effort and b) it kind of galls me to drive half a mile to take a walk. If you were me, what would you do?

Madres

I took a walk yesterday with Claire. As we walked, I talked to her, describing and naming the visible things and the sounds. A woman walking her tiny dog approached from the opposite direction. As she neared us, she said, “You have the most loving, beautiful expression on your face.” How sweet! I stopped and chatted for a moment, introducing her to Claire. She oohed and aahed over Pixie, telling me how beautiful she is. After a couple of minutes of this, we wished each other a happy day and went on our way. That encounter added a sparkle to my day.

Last night there were about 11 women gathered for the potluck. This was a group of mellow, warm women. I felt immediately at home. It was also really nice to talk with contemporaries who share similar growing-up reference points, and who could relate to the challenge of the mental shift required of older, independent women who become mothers for the first time.

The interesting thing (to me) is how much cheering I received for getting myself out of the house to attend. It felt heartening. I’d even showered before I went, so I was, like, all put together (or at least not stinky and covered in spilled milk). I received the requisite encouragement that the schedule starts to settle more around 3-4 months, and so on. We also got to share and compare birth war stories.

Oh! Another neat tidbit: one of the women at the potluck is someone I met in 2004, just after I moved here. She and I trained to be volunteer grief counselors in October/November at The Centre for Living With Dying. However, I didn’t continue after the training, as my father-in-law’s cancer had returned, and he was dying. I had my own living with dying to deal with and nothing to spare for another grieving person. Anyhow, I felt such pleasure running into her. I know I’m home when I finally begin running into acquaintances in ordinary places like the grocery store, other gatherings, and so on. In Austin it began to happen about three or four years after I arrived; until then, it was surreal sometimes to do ordinary life tasks but feel like a stranger moving through a foreign world.

I’m really glad I went. I got home around 10:00, and I’m so gonna need a nap. Regardless of how tired I am, I always become conscious at about 3:30 a.m. and try to relax back to sleep. Usually it’s a light doze, if that, until 5 a.m. when I decide it’s pointless and make coffee. I never used to wake up at 3 a.m. — instead, I was often awake at that time because I couldn’t fall asleep in the first place. Back then I could sleep until I was refreshed and woke naturally. Not anymore! What’s the saying? I’ll sleep when I’m dead — or when I can catch a nap.

Also, new photos of Pixie for friends and family are up at Flickr.

Message From?

Last night the battery on my laptop died.

First, two laptop power cords have been (presumably) chewed through by the cat, requiring their disposal. Now my laptop battery is konked out.

I still have one cord left and am in the office madly typing this. Soon the baby will wake and I’ll not get back into this room again until evening, probably.

I ask (only partly in jest): Perhaps the universe is trying to tell me something?

Yoga For Kids

The Yoga Adventure for Children: Playing, Dancing, Moving, Breathing, Relaxing, by Helen Purperhart

This is a clever little book. It’s simply written so that even a child can read and implement the instructions, and the drawings of poses are helpful. I also like organization of information. There are sections for breathing, yoga, visualization, etc. At the end of the book is a handy index showing which exercises and games require props and which don’t. The only device that isn’t as helpful and I found confusing was the way the exercises are identified by age group. The icons representing the four different groups look too similar, making it difficult to remember if it means the age group for ages 4-8, 4-12, 6-12, or 8-12. On the whole it’s a useful guide for teachers, parents, kids, and childcare providers.

It’s a little soon to begin with Claire, but I’ll definitely keep it in my library for later.

Halloween Tip

Don’t use a carving knife to carve a pumpkin into a Jack-o’-lantern.

And pay attention to what you’re doing when you do cut into it.

Learn about where the term Jack-o’-lantern originated.

(And no, my thumb did not need stitches. I bled like the proverbial stuck pig, however, and having a half-inch cut on one’s thumb-tip does not help with mothering tasks. I’ve been forbidden to carve any more pumpkins until Pixie is old enough to appreciate it. It probably goes without saying that there isn’t one this year. I didn’t even get the top cut off before I slipped.)

Pastimes

We don’t watch television anymore, at least not together. So right now I’m catching up on recorded episodes of Chuck. I also plan to catch up on Dirty Sexy Money eventually. However, I will probably pass on old episodes of Reaper. It’s kind of a replicate of Chuck (slacker guy with best buddy work in retail and have whacky adventures), but I think Chuck (the main character) is much hotter and more adorable. When I go to bed (in half an hour), Husband will have his much-needed quiet time (if our little girl will oblige him by staying asleep) and watch them too.

This evening I escaped for a few minutes to Barnes and Noble, where I indulged myself with the following:

What Mothers Do: Especially When It Looks Like Nothing (since I spend hours sitting in the rocking chair holding her, I need something to read)

Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind (recommended by Karen)

Walt Disney Records : Children’s Favorite Songs, Vol. 1: 25 Classic Tunes (because the only tune I can remember of late is Frére Jacques; I make up words as I sing to her, narrating our activities)

Claire’s colic is still… colicky. Husband came home and took over with Screaming Mimi. She’s so exhausted. As are we.