Cooking with kiddos

We're all hacking up lungs today. So early on, I decided I wouldn't be changing out of my pajamas. I put the kiddos in comfy clothes and we hunkered in for a quiet day at home. Ok, so quiet isn't exactly the right word. A rambunctious day at home, more like it. I was expecting a good nap out of H because he's been snotty and snuggly so I started to plan something quiet to do for W and I during H's nap. I knew if I had to listen to Toy Story one more time, my head would explode. So I started flipping through my William's Sonoma Kids Cookbook. I got it for W a few months ago. It's a bit old for him, as he can't read or operate a stove. But one day, I know he'll love the recipes in there. For now, he's just my little sous chef. We chose a recipe based on the ingredients we had in the house, cinnamon swirls.
We rolled the puff pastry and spread the sugar with our hands. Messy cooking is the most fun, says W. Then W jumped up and down as I rolled the pastry up into a log and cut it, and placed the pastries on the cookie sheet.

 This recipe was great for a three year old because it only took 5 minutes to make and ten minutes to bake. By the time I cleaned off the cutting board, they were ready.

We gobbled up way too many of them. I'm kind of ashamed of myself, really.
These snacks are completely void of nutritional benefits, but whatever. The kids had a kale smoothie (sshhhh... they don't know there was kale in there) for lunch, so I'm not sweating it. And really, I think the benefit of cooking with Mom outweighs the butter and sugar he inhaled. I hope he always loves cooking with me. It's such a great way to spend time together and it helps reinforce the importance of every day mathematics and following instructions.
Today, a kid's cookbook. Tomorrow, Mastering the Art of French Cooking!

Happy Birthday

Christmas is a tough time for birthdays. I'm working hard (and starting early) to make sure H's birthday is always a stand alone event and not lumped into Christmas. There will always be Birthday wrapping paper and Christmas paper. A birthday cake will never be served at a family Christmas party. Henry will have a proper birthday, dangit.

Tonight, I will wrap his presents in colorful birthday wrapping paper. Tomorrow, we will eat bright, non-holiday themed cupcakes and will sing happy birthday at the top of our lungs.
Our littlest boy is one. And walking. How on earth did this happen so fast? We missed the first three months. I guess that didn't help. Then we blocked out so much from the dark days of endless puking. Then BAM. it was birthday time. Our house is infantless once again. And will stay so for a long, long time, hopefully (?).

Need Some Sage Advice

Hey guys, I need help. H's birthday is a little over two weeks away and I'm kind of floundering. I want to do something for a few people in his birth family but I'm not sure exactly what. I've been taking monthly photos of him, so I'm going to compile them either into a little book or collage and pass it on - but I feel like I need to honor them in some way. I'd like to think that eventually, we'll be able to celebrate his birthday together somewhere down the road. But that's not the case this year. And the first year seems special to me. It's like, the first big milestone.
Did you do anything special for the first birthday (and/or subsequent birthdays) to honor the birth family and their sacrifice? I love them and want to make sure they're not overlooked.

I'd love to hear of any traditions or plans you have/had to honor/include the birth family. Thanks!

A Call, not The Call might be the hardest part

We got A Call yesterday. Our social worker from our agency wanted to present us to someone but our profiles didn't quite match. So she had to run it by us before giving the ok to show our profile. This has happened several times to us and each time brings a unique rush of emotions. I've done a really good job of not getting excited for any of them. But there's something about this one that's really sticking with me. Something about the birth mother's story grabbed my heart. And the birth father is still around, so to speak. So the baby could have a chance to know both of his/her first parents. And the most silly reason this situation resonates with me is because the baby is due in March. All of our birthdays fall in a five week March to April span in this house and we call it our birthday season. It's like having a month long birthday party and we love it. It's just a silly tradition but I can't help but take it as a sign.

I'm not expecting to be chosen by this birth mother. The odds are generally not in our favor. But I can't help going against better judgment in hoping she does. There's just something about this situation that latched onto my heart. It's the first one I will be truly sad about not being matched with. We're being presented this morning, so my fingers are crossed.

Knowing that we're being presented to birth mothers makes The Wait so much harder. We're always being shown to "someone." Last month for instance, we were shown to three birth mothers. And that's awesome. But KNOWING that someone is looking at us causes so much more stress.

So off I go on my day, trying hard to not look like a frazzled Cathy Comic frame. And trying unsuccessfully to not think about adding another super awesome birthday to our nonstop birthday extravaganza month.

Wishful thinking

Well, it's that time of year again. The pumpkins have hit the composter and the twinkling lights of Christmas are going up. I love (LOVE) the holiday season. I love shopping for presents (maybe because I tend to subscribe to the one-for-you-one-for-me style of shopping). I love the smells of Christmas and the overindulgance of sweets and even the hustle and bustle. My husband brought the decorations down from the attic a few days ago, kicked on the SiriusXM Holly channel and a-decorating I went.

Wait... back up. I should interject here that I've been in a very zen place about The Wait. Honestly, I have. No, seriously. Stop rolling your eyes. For a while there, I was so wraped up in The Wait that I was losing sight of the little dude that was standing right in front of me. I took a minute to step back and look at the big picture and I realized I wasn't enjoying the moment to it's fullest. Time with W was being tarnished with unecessary worry. It's not like I was ignoring him or anything. He's the center of my universe every second of the day. But I wasn't enjoying JUST having him. These times of just him and I being together are fleeting. Soon he'll be entering pre-school and soon (hopefully) there will be another little one needing my attention. So, while I'm still anxiously awaiting The Call, I've also remembered to fully relish this time with W.

Ok, so where was I? Right... The boxes were brought down and the christmas jams were kickin'. The tree went up, the decorations were lovingly hung, the trinkets were placed, garlands were strung. And at the bottom of the box were ourstockings. I pulled out mine, my husband's and W's. Then, there at the bottom of the box, all by it's lonesome was stocking #4. I forgot I had purchased it last year when we were just in the home study portion of the process. I had an irrational mother fear last January that we'd get #2 rather quickly and s/he wouldn't have a stocking and I'd have to run out and get one and it wouldn't match the rest of ours and #2 would spend years in therapy because their stocking wasn't the same and therefore their whole life was some sort of sham and it would be all my fault. Right, like I said, it was irrational. So I got a 4th stocking, tucked it in the Christmas box and forgot about it.

And there it sat in front of me, by itself in the box. I momentarily forgot my zen-like approach to The Wait and got a little teary. Then I composed myself and considered my (admittedly crazy) options. I could hang it and put some sort of little baby present to myself in it as a reminder that #2 will happen eventually (maybe a cute little Sophie?). Or I could burn it because it MUST be bad luck to buy something for a baby that doesn't exist (to us) yet. I decided to go a more rational route and just leave it in the box and hope that I'll be able to hang it with care next Christmas.

But on second thought.. when have I ever denied myself the chance to buy a wee little present? Hanging it and putting one or two baby gifts in there may not be so nutso afterall.

I think a little dilusional part of me thought we'd have a baby by this Christmas. I wish I could go back to 2010 Lindsay and tell her to go at this whole thing with a more rational head. Oh well. I'm rational now. Most of the time.

Did any of you buy things for future baby way far in advance like me? When did you start buying yourself baby things? We're lucky that we have skads of toys and gear from Little W, but part of the joy of expecting a baby is getting him/her little toys and cute onesies. So please share with me when you started going nuts in the baby aisle. I'd love to hear.

On a different note, Little W has his first I-made-my-own-friend friend's birthday party this weekend. Should be a hoot!

I hope you all have a wonderful weekend.
xo

Traditions, Old and New

W and I just headed out and braved the post apocalyptic battleground that is Wegman's two days before Thanksgiving. Sheesh. Luckily, my list was small, so it wasn't too bad. Thanksgiving is at my parents' house this year so I'm not allowed to do too much for it. Even though I'm 32 with my own husband and child, I'm still my parents' baby, so I'm not allowed to do too much as far as helping. It's our job to show up and eat eat eat. I was able to convince them to let me bring an appetizer and the coleslaw. So I'm making slow progress. Anyway, to Wegman's we ventured. Since I'm only allowed to bring an appetizer, I decided to make the yummiest appetizer that I know of (and one I over indulged in a few days ago at a friend's baptism), stuffed cherry peppers. Yum! I can hear the prosciutto and provolone calling my name in the fridge. So let's wish me (and my waistline) luck that I don't eat them all before Thursday afternoon. I just subscribed to the one-for-you-one-for-me school of assembling. Now I'm stuffed full of stinky cheese and cured meat. Happiness.

And so begins my most gluttonous season. I love the holidays.  I love stuffing myself to the gills for two months, I love the smells and the family and the traditions. But what I love most about the holiday season is all of the opportunities to indulge in cranberry sauce. And not of the homemade variety. Sure, I appreciate a good, homemade cranberry sauce. I may even reserve some real estate on my plate for it these next few months. But the shiny, can shaped glob of sugary goodness is where it is at for me. I love the sound it makes when it slides onto the bowl, I love the way it melts a little when it mingles with the warm gravy <insert Homer Simpson gurgling here>. Oooh I love it.

photo credit: zipongo

And while I'm talking about traditions and food, I should mention my newest tradition. A few years ago we came home from Thanksgiving with zero (ZERO!!) leftovers. Blasphemy! Little did we know that our friends down the street were suffering the same injustice. We started talking about how rotten a Thanksgiving without leftovers is. And we got sad. And mad. How could this have happened? Why didn't our respective families understand the importance of next-day-turkey-sandwiches?? Why were we powerless in this situation? And why were we standing for it? Convention ruled that that you can only eat gastro-busting portions of turkey and fixings on the third Thursday of each November. Why only once a year? Seeing as we (my friend and I) weren't ones to necessarily follow convention, we said screw it. And so it was that Slapsgiving (named in honor of a silly episode of How I Met Your Mother) was born. Now every year, once Thanksgiving is over and the sea of leftovers has dried up, we will get together with our dear friends and drink wine and cook a traditional Thanksgiving feast all.over.again. We use pretty china and wear forgiving (read: stretchy) clothes, we listen to awesome Christmas music (Think, Pogues and Waitresses) and we enjoy a great Slapsgiving.
And there are always leftovers for everyone.

photo credit

I hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving and a groovy Slapsgiving (with no actual slapping, of course). Cheers!