Its The Little Things...

After a long week of heavy rain, endless boxes and trying to unpack during nap time, which is usually MOMMY time, I really needed a little comfort. So yesterday I broke out the Breville and made a special lunch for J and I. The picture quality on my blog will always be terrible, because I am not a photographer like my mom or my sister...

     Pear Brie Spinach and Turkey Panini  

with 

Bird's Nest Salad

It was heavenly. The sandwich is exactly what it sounds like. I wish I had something other than sandwich bread to put it on, but I didn't have time to start baking bread while we were moving. I resume my usual bread baking on Tuesday. The salad is not exactly what it sounds like. I did not scavenge the neighborhood stealing nests from unsuspecting little birds. The nest is actually made from parmesan cheese. You sprinkle a circle of it on an all ready HOT nonstick pan, lift once the cheese melts and flip over, and place on top of an overturned ramekin so it can take shape and cool off. Then I filled it with yummy greens and our favorite dressing. I felt like myself again after finishing lunch. Creative food goes a long way with me.  I also had time to bake a latticed apple pie, a new recipe I had wanted to try out for awhile. This also gave me great comfort, along with a cup of rose petal tea (my new fav).

The Bear felt antsy all day. Despite his new appreciation for spinach and mozzarella quesadillas which we discovered at dinner, the endless rain drove him crazy. He loves our new backyard and it broke my heart to see him standing at the door with tears on his cheeks asking to go "out! out! out!" Once again I broke out all the rainy day activities and did my best to see as many smiles on my toddler's face as possible. And then, as if to say "thank you," the Bear waddled over just before bed time and gave me my first (unasked for!) kiss. Heaven. He even looped his arms around my neck when he did it.  To top it all off the boys also played together (as much as a 5 month old can) on top of the new "big boy bed." They giggled together and held hands. The Bear pretended to comb his bro's hair and put lotion on his legs. I'm starting to get really excited about rainy days a few years from now when we can play pirates and hunt treasure or indoor world cup (I really place no value on furniture or windows). He also managed to pick up a few new words that day, most likely out of sheer boredom. They are:

Owl

San-gee (sandwich)

Poo poo

Ike (bike)

Che-shee (leche)

A random assortment I know. I promise one of the rainy day activities was most definitely not playing with an owl poop sandwich while riding a bike. 

So that's all it took. Creative food, a cup of tea, a few new words, and my first kiss from my firstborn. I'm right as rain again. 

18 Months

The Bear celebrated his 18 month birthday today. I don't really like to think about his birth, it was a horrible day, thanks to the hospital and my odious devil of an OB. I like to think of a moment four days after his birth when I feel we really came to each other for the first time. A smile came to my face today when I thought of it. He has changed so much since that moment when he looked at me with recognition and love, as if he were saying "Oh there you are Mommy!" He is interacting with his brother, pretending to brush his own hair, even feeding his toys with a sippy cup and spoon. He is trying to run now and is climbing furniture. He loves his blue duckie toothbrush. He loves our dog Frankie and sometimes calls him "Hankie." To say that he is obsessed with my Dad is putting it lightly. "Bello" lights up his world in a way that nothing else does. They are two leaves of the same branch. 

This morning when he woke up, I changed him and released him onto the floor for a few minutes while I got his breakfast together. He took off like a shot to the small library I made for him in one corner of the living room. He greeted his giraffe chair with a cheeky "hi!" and made a grab for his favorite barnyard animal book. I watched him for a few minutes as he sat cozily in his chair. He flipped through the cardboard pages as if he could read the words already. The occasional, "moo" and "pio pio" could be heard from his corner while I set out his breakfast. He thanked me for his food once he settled into his high chair with a quick "Tha-too" and dug in. We also enjoyed one quick jam session to the "Bad" album in honor of MJ, who, despite his insanities, is one of our household's favorite musicians. 

We spent the day indoors listening to the intermittent lightning storms pass over our new home. This canceled out my plans to whip up a fabulous dinner since indoor days require new ideas for entertaining the toddler. We colored, sang songs, made a tent, played with blocks, and endured one very squirmy haircut. The haircuts around here can not last more than 4-6 minutes or tantrums inevitably follow. I pop in a Baby Einstein into my laptop (we don't own a TV), the toddler becomes momentarily hypnotized, and the race is on for Mommy! I usually go right for the hair behind his ears and at the nape of his neck first since those are the hardest to cut once he starts wiggling and trying to grab the scissors away. I always save the huge mop of curls on top for last. Today's haircut produced the most clipped curls I've ever seen from him. I felt horrible throwing all those cute curly locks away but there is NO WAY I am keeping dead hair in a box as a memory (Sorry, Mom). 

So we tucked the Bear away for the night, looking quite stylish and a bit sleepy from the days activities. 

I had all of 30 minutes in the kitchen before I had to nurse the baby. I looked in the pantry and decided on something easy for the oven's first trial run.  And so...

Hungry Baby, Sleeping Toddler Cookies

2 cups Flour

2 Eggs (if you are a vegan, substitute a banana for the eggs)

dash baking powder

dash of baking soda (sorry I never measure anything)

pinch of salt

3/4C Brown sugar

1/2C white sugar

2 tsp Vanilla

a few dashes of cinnamon

1/2C crumbled Heath Bar

1/3C semi sweet chocolate chips

4Tbsp unsalted butter

Heat oven 350F, bake for 11 minutes or to desired brown

We enjoyed ours with a cup of tea. They were....De-LISH.

Return

We are settled in. Boxes unpacked. Babies on their respective schedules. Baskets and bowl overflowing with co-op goodness (see: Healthy Habits). A return to the kitchen awaits. Recipes to follow.

Birthday memories

Tonight we celebrated my Dad's birthday. These days any form of family celebration sends me on a nostalgic memory trip to years past, especially if the memory includes my sister, who I am missing terribly as of late. And so this evening I spent a fair amount of time thinking about all the birthday celebrations I've been part of for my Dad. The table conversation revolved around days gone by and how things have changed in the last fifty years. I, on the other hand, thought about how some things never change. Especially when my little cousin walked out into the darkened dining room some thirty minutes later, proudly balancing a German Chocolate cake for my Dad so we could all serenade him. It seems that no matter how many years pass, there is always a tiny brunette girl carrying a cake for my Dad's birthday. On his thirtieth birthday, that little girl was me.

I still remember how excited my sister and I were for his arrival from work. We felt like we would jump out of our skin at any moment. My mother had spent the afternoon whipping up a feast while my sister and I scurried about the house making cards and little decorations.

My sister would walk towards the front room window and sit on the back edge of the couch, keeping watch for his car. Her long hair was in its usual mass of knots and tangles and it was the only part of her head I could see since her face was mashed into the window. When his car finally pulled up the house became a frenzy of giggles and excitement. I loved the way my Dad filled the doorway when he came home. He was tall and lanky. Always ready to give us a big grin and sweep us up in a great hug. My mom bought him a bright blue shirt that said "Thirty and still frisky," my sister and I weren't quite sure what "frisky" meant but we loved the way my mom laughed when she gave it to him. We felt so proud to deliver his birthday cake, not because it made us feel grown up to be trusted with it, but because we were his little girls. I can't recall what the cake looked like or what presents we gave him. But I do remember the look on his face when he took it all in, when he blew out his candles, when he opened whatever it was we gave him that year. He looked at us with a great fierce love in his eyes. Even though the whole day was just for him, we felt loved and incredibly special that he was our Papito.

So once again a little brunette brought my Dad his birthday cake. Only now he is surrounded by many more family members, two of them are my own children, and he still loves us all with every ounce of his being. Happy Birthday Papito, we love that we belong to you.

A growing curiosity

This morning, just after breakfast, the Bear found an abandoned paint brush near the kitchen. I don't know when he learned the mechanics of paint brushes but as I finished making my own breakfast I felt a brush stroke tickle my leg. I looked down and saw him holding the brush with a sneaky smile. His hair was still rumpled from sleep and his cheeks were flushed from the excitement of a new discovery.  He started to "paint" my leg. Then he moved to the cabinets, fridge, high chair and his baby brother. I think he decided to absorb the house in this simple way. Taking it in all at once was too overwhelming, but with this small brush he could touch things one at a time. Now that I look back at the past few days, Bear never showed any interest in "new" things in the house. He gravitated to the familiar, especially our dog, Frankie. But today he is ready to discover with his paint brush. 

Our new mailbox is located at the end of our property. Its a lovely wooden box shaped like a little cabin and surrounded by lupine flowers. The Bear accompanied me in fetching the mail for the first time. Everything about this simple process was exciting to him. He moved the red flag up and down several times. He poked at the box with his chubby finger and whooped at it when he realized the door opened and closed. Any object of versatility is of great interest to him. Knobs, pulls, doors, switches, he relishes every facet of invention. The mailbox is no exception. The five minutes of intense elation over the simple task of retrieving mail reminds me once more how thankful I am to be a mother. Not only did I experience the magic of childhood once, I get to experience it again with my sons. I am not content to sit on the sidelines or let someone else look after them.  Discovering the mailbox is now my experience as well, I can pour over it and act silly with a tiny squirming boy in my arms.  I love every moment of growing up again. 

Welcome Home Bread

4 cups flour (wheat or white)

1 cup warm water (previously boiled with a sprig of rosemary)

1/2 cup honey (orange blossom or saw palmetto are the best) 

pinch of salt

1/8 tsp yeast

2 cups of flour in a bowl along with the yeast. Pour warm rosemary water over it and cover with a clean dish cloth. After one hour, add the remaining flour and salt. Begin mixing. Dough should feel silky to the touch. Let rise for two hours. Preheat oven to 350F. 

Add honey and fold into the dough (Don't mix it, just wrap it into the bread). Shape the loaf and place on a parchment lined cookie sheet or baking stone. Bake for 45 minutes or to desired crust. 

The Little Yellow Bungalow

We moved in yesterday. Our little yellow bungalow has been my favorite home in town for many years. I never imagined I would one day live there with my husband and our two sons. The house was built in the 1940s. I love its charm and simplicity. So many of the homes we looked at while house hunting seemed overly done. Cookie cutter homes and mini mansions on foreclosure flooded the market. We spanned a 40 mile radius while searching and the Lord led us two blocks down the road.  

The bungalow is surrounded by treasures. The largest gardenia bush I have ever seen is in my backyard, I really do marvel at its health and size. Gardenias are usually delicate and the humidity is hard on them. This one seems to have been thriving for years. We have 15 different types of palm trees and a few tropical plants that I really enjoy like White Bird of Paradise and Heliconias. 

Our white picket fence is going up in two weeks. I am marking out my garden and planning the beds all ready. My seeds came in the mail a few week ago. Among them: larkspur, sweet pea, poppies, delphiniums, passion flower, daisies, tropical wysteria, blue sage, creeping thyme, and a dozen others. I am so eager to create something beautiful for myself and my family. There is so much in this city that is quick and harsh. I want my boys to experience the timeless and the delicate. Working the earth and watching things grow are two of the most satisfying pleasures I can think of.  I can't wait to start!

Tomorrow the last box will be unpacked and we can start burrowing down back into our routine. The Bear is really curious about our new home. I want to take our time introducing him to it. He is increasingly interested in books these days and I have built him a small library in our new living room. I am hoping to buy him a cozy chair for reading in his special corner of the house.  And so, our new days at home begin tomorrow morning. We'll bake bread, play in the yard, cuddle up with our stories, and learn something new about our small world.

There is nothing like staying at home for real comfort~ Jane Austen