Diaper Saga

Haven't had much to say lately, but our dramas do continue. The Biscuit gave us a sign yesterday that he might be ready to start potty training: he pooped in his diaper then removed it, running around the play area with poop still hanging from his cute little butt. I have now determined that the sleeping bag we use as a giant floor cushion in that room does in fact fit in our washer and that the little flimsy drying rack I have can hold the weight of about 1/3 of said sleeping bag (the rest of it laying over the deck railing). Thankfully, (HA!) it was 101 degrees yesterday so the sleeping bag dried pretty fast.

On a side note, I'm now kicking myself that we rented a house with no a/c. I remember thinking that it was no big deal because it's freaking Oregon and since it's an older house there are all sorts of windows that we can open to get a breeze from whatever direction it is coming. Which *would* work great if a good half of the windows weren't painted shut! [kick, kick!]

We have been having a problem with The Biscuit's diapers leaking overnight so switched to a nighttime pull-up. Yeah, just because Kimberly-Clark says that it's just for nighttime doesn't mean it's strong enough to take him and all his milk drinking. I've gone ahead and ordered a custom-made $50 diaper for him through Tallulah Baby. That is a fully-loaded for nighttime, with some special adjustments for his particular body shape, diaper and a cover (and shipping). I'm looking forward to it!

We are using gDiapers with The Cupcake almost all of the time now. I'm going to invest in some prefolds (unbleached India prefolds if I can find them for a good price) to use as inserts in them instead of the gDiaper flushables that we are buying now. The next step is some BumGenius diapers which should fit both kids so that even when The Biscuit is fully potty-trained they will still work on The Cupcake. Trying hard here to make a wise investment, before taking reselling them on eBay into consideration. Somewhere in there we get to buy cloth wipes too. From what I've heard (and experienced with the gDiapers) it's extra yukky to try to separate those non-flushable baby wipes from what you are flushing and washing. I'm not ready to switch to the flushable toddler wipes yet, so I think we are just going to go ahead and go the cloth route. From what I hear flannel receiving blankets make great ones when cut down and the edges are serged, so that will be my first serger project. Just as soon as I get some power to my sewing area. Ah, old houses.

Oh, and for the people who are curious about diapers piling up and smelling, I can say that I am already over-caught up with laundry like never before. Basically I have the opposite problem in that I am usually wanting to wash diapers and scouring the house for things to wash with them. I've never been more on top of the laundry than I have since we started using the gDiapers for The Cupcake. So I really do think that's a fear, not an actual issue. Maybe it's left over from diaper service days, when you kept the diapers for someone else to pick up and wash?

Updated to add links. Doh!

Homeschooling/Unschooling

I sent my husband an email and then realized it should be a blog post.

I joined a Yahoo group for unschoolers pretty soon after we moved. Not that I know what that means, but I wanted to learn. I'm one of those weird products of public school that loves learning. Go figure!

Anyway, a blog that I had been avoiding because I knew I would get hooked on it sucked me into its web today. Jessica, formerly Very Mom and Kerflop, has a new blog about her homeschooling/unschooling adventure called Balancing Everything.

None of the posts are long. These two I found especially fascinating since I am someone who also wants to take the plunge.

This one talks about her LDS-based reasons for homeschooling. While I am not of that religious persuasion I still think it is worth reading for parents whose children fall under the category of Special Education. Don't forget that "gifted and talented" students are part of Special Ed (at least that's what they called us in the 70's and 80's).

There is a post that gave me a new perspective on public school, mostly because that was not my experience. And that may very well be because I was part of the whole Gifted thing. Huh, just dawned on me that I was not mainstreamed for English and Math from second grade on.

Two more posts reminded me of me. One of my laziness and the other of how I'm trying so hard not to post things that will let scary people do bad things to us.

Then she gets to the hopeful part and the beginning of a plan.

Proof they are learning!

There's more, but not much as of yet. But I'm really inspired. And that's why I wanted to share. Now go read!

Happy Early Mother's Day to the Congresswoman from Washington State

Here is this year's message and, just because it touched my heart, here is last year's introduction of her son, Cole. He's really grown!

Of to go cry more, because it's so good that this caucus exists and because I wish my son was talking that much.

Glow In The Woods

I've pondered what to write other than, "Go read. Bear witness. Say their children's names. Learn how to be a help instead of making them feel invisible." Really that should be enough. You should go. But instead I've been pondering why it is so important to me. Why do I feel so drawn to this group?

Two things came to me this afternoon:

1. My dad's aunt and uncle, who raised him and his brother, had a son of their own who died of SIDS. As the story goes, one Easter morning they got up and the baby was blue.
2. My mom's mom either had one or two babies before my eldest uncle (depends on who is telling the story). As it is there is an 18-year gap between the oldest and the youngest of my aunts/uncles. If the first baby had lived there would have been 20 years.
   

So the loss that draws me to these women's stories is not just the grieving for the perfect son that I thought we had for 2 days, but there is also a desire to understand these two women that were such a big part of my life.

What are you doing for Mother's Day?

I have decided that for my Mother's Day I would like to join Standing Women. Go check out their story and see if there will be a group standing in a park that you would like to join.

Update: I found the page about the original book this idea is based on. The author also has a blog, but it seems to stop in 2007 and doesn't have any updates about the 2008 event.

"Jim Never Asks for Seconds at Home"

I know. Stupid line from Airplane taken from stupider instant coffee ads in my childhood. But I was so happy that my husband boyfriend* wants me to make more bread! I tried it once and it turned out very delicious. When he asked me to bake some again this line popped into my head.

Sadly, it's taken me about 24 hours to find the recipe again. I knew that it was from a link in a comment on Daring Young Mom. I knew that there were 3 pages of comments on the site that actually had the recipe. And I knew that I had combed those for necessary changes and had made a text file with the original recipe (which made 2 loaves) and the changes from the comments. Then I had a second text file with my 1 loaf version. How hard could it be to find a text file?

Well it turns out that the recipe (and so my file name) is "Outrageously Easy Big Bread" so all my searching under "bread" and "easy" yielded nothing. I gave up and started searching through DYM's archives. At least we haven't been in this house long and I knew I'd made the bread here. Luckily she tagged it "food" and it was in the third post I read! Yahoo!

I know this wasn't that interesting, but I don't want to lose the recipe again. So I shall share it with you. First the credits:

Daring Young Mom's post
The comment by Slawebb
The link that Slawebb included in her comment

And here is my version for only 1 loaf (advice and comments in parenthesis are from the original link):

Ingredients:

1 packet of yeast
2 T warm water
1 C hot water
1.5 T sugar
0.5 t salt
1.5 C flour
2T + 2t vegetable or corn oil
1.5 C flour



Directions:

Note: This recipe works best if all ingredients are set out, ready to go, in advance.

Pour warm water into a small ceramic bowl and add the yeast, but DO NOT STIR. Set aside.

In a large mixing bowl, pour hot water over the sugar and salt, then stir with a wooden spoon to completely dissolve. Combine 1.5 cups flour with the water mixture. Pour the oil on top of the dough mixture then add the yeast mixture on top of that, but DO NOT STIR. Top with the remaining 1.5 cups of flour and mix well. (I begin mixing with the wooden spoon but I very quickly have to move into squishing the dough with my hands.) At this point, the dough should be pliant and moist, but not gooey. Cover the bowl with a damp towel and set aside to rise for at least 45 minutes. (I've left it for almost two hours.)

Knead the dough if you want. Flatten it into roughly an oval/rounded rectangular shape, about 1/2- to 3/4-inch thickness; then roll the dough lengthwise and place on an ungreased, but very BIG, cookie sheet. Cover the dough with a moist towel and set aside to rise again for another 45 minutes (or longer).

After the dough has risen the second time, preheat the oven to 375 and bake for exactly 23 minutes. If you can keep everyone from digging in right away, allow to cool for about 15 minutes and then enjoy.

Enjoy!


*He's decided that it was more fun to be boyfriend/girlfriend.

He is ours and that is that.

I was getting caught up on Sweet|Salty Kate and that led my brain to this:

I get comments like "How do you do it?" and I wonder that these people think I had a choice. The Biscuit is who we got. He is ours and that is that. Then I run across a woman who is adopting a boy with Down syndrome because his bio parents decided to only take home the typical twin from the hospital. It makes me wonder what that NICU nurse who mentioned there are waiting lists of people that want to adopt a baby with Down syndrome was really trying to say; was she offering me a choice?


(Edited to fix a spelling error.)

Ok, I admit it, I suck at this blogging thing. I have plenty to say when I read posts on someone else's blog, but then not much left when it comes to here.

And as I go to bed with the children -- literally in our big bed with the two of them -- there isn't that coveted mommy time at the computer after they are sleeping. I'm struggling with how on earth to get The Cupcake to sleep by herself after 9pm instead of on or by me or my husband. Honestly I thought I would be having a problem getting a pacifier away from her at age 3, not getting *me* away from her at 11 months old. Every once in awhile I can roll away from her, put a sleeping Biscuit in his bed and then go see what my guy is up to, but it's rare. I usually fall asleep with them and just get back into whatever side of the bed she has left me after I put him down. It's sad. She's quite the bed-hog and I miss my hubby.

Which is all kind of beside the point because I thought of something to say today. I have a pet peeve language-wise. People breathe in and out, their breath is what they breathe in and out. Use the "e" for the verb, people! And clothes are what we wear. The plural of cloth is cloths. I know it's not following the "add 'es' when the word ends in 'th'" rule, but that's because "clothes" is already a word. Please!

It reminds me of this xkcd comic, except that I've been annoyed with Freecycle and Craigslist, not the whole internet. I've been on them looking for a free or almost-free dryer that is electric. Modifying this rental house for our gas dryer is not going to work. And I can't keep hauling everything to the laundromat as that is too expensive in both time and money. Ack. Whine.

Off to make grilled cheese! Ever tried it with a slice of tomato? Mmm. Excellent. Better than with ham. Even better still is with both ham and tomato!

We made it!

We're no longer without phone, at this point only have dial-up internet on a shared computer, but we are here. We got snow that stuck for a bit Sunday night/Monday morning. (Photos are on DropShots; email me if you need more instructions than that.) We found a leak with the sink the first day we were here that turned out to need a plumber. Lucky for us our landlord seems to have called a good one: his name is Bob and he owns the company, he came out himself on a Saturday call with an apprentice, and they both wore booties over their shoes when they were in the house. All very good signs. He found that the disposal was old to the point of uselessness, wired in wrong and didn't have a trap in the drain. This was how we learned that traps are not just a way to retrieve things that drop down the drain but also so that sewer gas can't come in. The fix we are left with means that things are to code, but we have no disposal -- but also no leaks. He is getting us a bid for running a gas line for our dryer, but has concerns that the line isn't big enough. The example he gave my husband was that if we turn on the dryer while cooking dinner the stove may turn off. Whee! But to my mind not that different from waiting to run the dishwasher because someone is in the shower. He's going to get back to us with an estimate. We are both glad that we got to see his work on the landlord's dime before we incur any costs with the dryer line.

Other fun things we've found about the house: one phone jack and it's in the playroom, no insulation in the crawl space so the floors are freezing, the little electric zone heaters (Hubby calls them in-wall hair dryers) make the electric meter spin like a whirling dervish.

At this point our priorities are to get coverings on the windows so that our heat will stop pouring out, a rug for the kids' playroom so it can be used without us practically bundling up in coats, and all the boxes unpacked and outta here. We are going to get a mattress for The Biscuit and put it on the floor and move The Cupcake from our bed where she spends most nights (and some daytime meals/naps). He has been falling asleep on his own in our bed or on the floor instead of the elongated ritual he needed to fall asleep before. Thank goodness, because he's so heavy now.

The Biscuit is having a serious bout of "I used to be an only child"-itis. I think it's the stress of the very slow packing job combined with being on the road again combined with being in a new place. Lots of the rules are different (needing to keep clothing on because it's cold comes to mind first) and I think it will just take time to adapt.

Which reminds me, we have to figure out how to get him services and find a play group. More to-dos and phone calls. Guess I better get off line and get to work.




Edited to correct a typo.

On the Road, Day 2

This is short as The Cupcake is sleeping on me so I'm typing with one hand.

We got into R-town last night a little later than we wanted. We were in our room at the Hampton Inn at 7pm. We went out to Chevy's for dinner (so that The Biscuit could have a quesadilla) and were back in the room by 9pm. Our tv died promptly at 9:05pm. We survived, but since our tv was packed on the truck long before we were on the road, we were looking forward to a little entertainment.

True to form, we got up at about 8:30am, but still were rushing to get out by our 11am check out time. Both kids were kind enough to have their poopy diapers there in the room instead of in their car seats. We headed out and got gas, bought milk, got pan-handled, ate at In 'n Out Burger, then finally hit the road. About 2 miles later I realized that I hadn't put my wedding ring back on after my shower. Thank goodness that "My Biscuit's Daddy" got us walkie-talkies so I could tell him to pull off of I-5. I called the hotel and they went to the room and found it for me. So back we went.

When you add that morning to The Cupcake getting her two upper front teeth and screaming with what turned out to be jealousy as we went through the the highest mountain pass on I-5 (Google it if you must) because The Biscuit had a snack cup of O's and she didn't, you can see why we ended up stopping in M-ville again instead of pressing on to E-town or R-burg. We learned our lesson though and we are staying at the recently remodeled Hampton Inn instead of the (totally yucky) Shilo Inn that we stayed at on our last trip. Tonight we had Dairy Queen for dinner in our room. We're exhausted, but the tv works so we are waiting to watch Bill Maher on HBO at 11pm.

We should be in the new house tomorrow night!

Still Packing

We are all sneezing and have runny noses and coughs. I think we are all allergic to this house that we are packing up. That's right, we've been home since the 21st of December and we are STILL PACKING. Never move out of state in the winter with small children.

That's all I have time for.

3 Gifts was Enough for Jesus

I took a moment this morning to read some OMSH about Christmas gifts and how less is more. As I read and nodded my head "YES!" I came across this in a comment by Amber:

...each child gets pajamas from the pajama fairy on Christmas eve, then on Christmas day they get three gifts (the rationalization is that three was enough for Jesus so it's enough for us) from santa/mom and dad. As we've had more kids they now trade names so they'll get one more gift from a sibling.

Oh, yes! That sounds like the best plan ever! It would be so nice if those pj's were made by me. And it would certainly be easy to make sure that 3 gifts per kid were handmade in America. I am officially stealing that plan.

But what to do about the grandparents? This year, thanks to the move, our wish list was "don't get us anything because we don't want any more than we already have to pack." My mom and step-dad gave us money (very unexpected and very helpful with the move!), but my mother-in-law can. not. stop. She actually said it was a small Christmas this year, but there was yet another sweatshirt from her for each of us. I don't think that she knows she's gotten us one every year for as long as I can remember. While it's true we are moving to a colder place, we are also moving to a place without a hall closet. I'm not sure if I can leave them here with the other charity donations because when she finds out it's going to hurt her feelings. I think all the coats may come with us to go to a charity up there where it's colder. And she did get us gift certificates, but had to also buy clothes and books and stuffed animals for the kids. Mind you, we are talking about a 2.5 yo that could care less about unwrapping things and hates stuffed animals, he was happy to sit by the fire and hang out with us, and an 8mo who has no idea what's up with "stuff". But back to Amber who has the best idea for over-indulging grandparents:

Grandparents still spoil- but this year especially we’ve asked them for cold weather clothes that the girls need- or passes to the zoo or the children’s museum. We don’t need more stuff that could be recalled in a month.

THAT last sentence would get my mother-in-law's attention. And the fact that these are activities where the kids would get out would grab my mom's attention. Finally, a solution that should work. At least if I can get up the guts to tell them that for anything that comes into the house something else has to go out AND make them understand that the something that goes out might be something from them that still fits or functions just fine.

Go Forth and Check Out This Stuff

First, please go check out Daring Young Mom. On Saturday and today she blogged about helping their neighbors in Lewis County recover from the devastating and surprising flood they found themselves in. These are not people who live in a flood plain. In fact, one of the videos that DYM linked to shows a furniture store owner explaining that he couldn't buy flood insurance because they were shown a map that said his shop was not in a flood plain. Not a good surprise.

Second, I found a cool thing that I want to share. I used to think that parents who put leashes on their kids were lazy. But I was young and childless. Now I worry about someone wanting to steal my gorgeous tots. Of course, they would bring them back when they see how much work they are and realize that you can't get top dollar selling a screamer, but still I worry. I ran across these cool tattoos and finally feel that maybe I don't need to get a leash for the Biscuit. The idea is that you have a special pen and write in a phone number then put this temporary tattoo on your kiddo. I think it is a great idea. It would take a lot longer for a stranger to remove than an ID bracelet. They have a special version for kids with Autism, too. Very interesting. Still won't stop the Biscuit from running out into the street, but it could be helpful on vacation.

I found the tattoos through an ad on Our Special Kids. That is a website for the parents of kids with special needs "because parents have needs too." Yeah!

That's it for now. I'm up late doing laundry because we are leaving tomorrow to find a place to live in the Pacific Northwest. No towns mentioned so my hubby doesn't beat me with a wet noodle, but we aren't going up I-5 as far north as the floods. ;-) Here's hoping that we find a nice place for not too much rent that will let us sign a 6 month lease.

See ya when we get back!

Rachel Plosser LeDuc

I learned last week that my best friend senior year of high school, Rachel Plosser LeDuc, passed away in September. How did I find out? Well, every once in awhile I Google my name, my kids names, and the names of friends that I've lost touch with. All I could find were links to her obituary. I paid the $2 and read it, hoping to find details that would prove it wasn't my friend. The photo erased those hopes. I didn't learn much more than that she was survived by her husband, son, mom and brother. (At least it gave me a lead on her brother. Maybe I'll get the nerve up to send him an email.) What seems to be eating me up is that it doesn't say what happened. Was she in a car accident? Was she ill? I have no right to these answers, but the questions haunt me.

It bothers me that I couldn't find hide nor hair of her until this. So, for our other classmates and her other friends, I'm posting the wonderful things that I remember about her so that she will be more than just an obituary on the web. Maybe that's weird, but I feel a need to do it.

The first thing that I remember about our senior year was the "Class of '83 Hymn" that Rachel wrote. I don't know why, but it had been on my mind before I Googled her name. She would tell people that we co-wrote it, but all I did was clean up the meter in 1 line. I think I was more like an editor if anything at all. I will take the credit for being the one to memorize it though. I don't think she liked it as much as I did. Here it is in all its glory:

Disco sucks not rock and roll,
All the punks are out of control.
Ralph Lauren and 501's
Sexy girls and guys with buns.
'69 and '83
Our minds are sex-filled, you and me.
Scamming, swooping, picking up,
Some get pregnant in pick-up trucks.
We'll be remembered, wait and see,
We're the way-rad Class of '83!

[Her original line that I cleaned up was "Some get pregnant in the back of pick-up trucks." And the reference to '69 was because we both drove cars made in that year, don't be nasty.]

I still eat ranch dressing on turkey sandwiches sometimes. She showed me that with Thanksgiving leftovers.

Thinking about Thanksgiving leads me to think about the trip to take her ex-boyfriend down to L.A. on Thanksgiving weekend. I had permission to go with her so that she wouldn't have to drive back alone. I didn't have permission to take my 17-year-old self to Tijuana with them. But I couldn't very well stay at his friends' house in Apple Valley without them, could I? It was an interesting few hours. All we did was walk around some and then get back in line to come back across the border. Crossing back was when I realized that at 17 I shouldn't have crossed over in the first place. They looked us over in a growling kind of way and let us in. Frankly, I think we spent more time in line than we did there. But I can say I've been there.

One day we went out to a local ice skating rink. It was probably during Christmas break since it was definitely winter -- a very cold and rainy day. When we got in her car to go home we found that her wipers didn't work. So we tied on some fishing line and opened up the wing windows (this was a VW Beetle) and I would pull right then she would pull left. It worked well enough to get us home, but it was cold with the wings open and our hands were really sore from the fishing line.

We had ROTC freshman boys that we would take off-campus for lunch. We felt so powerful because we were seniors and those boys were so impressed with us. We also had a closed-campus school, but the security guard knew us both (I was in choir and Rachel in student government) and would just wave to us as we drove off. I don't know if he ever checked, but we did always come back for afternoon classes.

With our friend Ian we would go to a kind-of private poetry workshop that we had set up with a poet (C.B. Davis) that had come to a 6-week program in our sophomore English class. I remember shutting my hand in Ian's car door and I remember a field trip to the Fuller Paint poles. I remember walking single-file behind C.B. on a hot day as he read us Pablo Neruda's "Ode to the Watermelon" and led us around the old Fire Chief's house, ending at the refrigerator where he had a cold juicy watermelon waiting for us. But I don't remember a single thing that any of us wrote. I think it was more of letting C.B. inspire us and pontificate (but in a good way) at us, than workshopping our poems. I don't think I would have had the guts to do it without Rachel.

Those are some good things that came to mind. There are some more, and they are good memories too, but more about me than her. In a very real way Rachel helped me find myself that year. I wouldn't be who I am without all the things I did with her. I'm really sorry that I lost touch with her. If I find that she went to the reunions that I've skipped I'll probably beat myself up about it, but she wasn't at the one that I did go to. I miss her and now I can't tell her. So here is one of my attempts at sending that message out to the universe. I hope she gets the message.



Update:
I received an email this morning (23 Dec 2007) letting me know that Rachel died of a brain tumor. The person who contacted me said I could ask questions, but I'm not sure what to ask. However, if one of our classmates finds this, I wanted the new information and the idea of a source here for them to find as well.

Math and Words

Apparently it is quite common (at least among Melissa Summers' readers) to be good with words and bad with numbers. Somehow this translates into being good at geometry and bad with other math. Wha??? Not in my world.

I was a voracious reader. I baffled my just-out-of-college 1st grade teacher by finishing our reading book. It was a go at your own pace set-up and when I finished she didn't know what to do with me. I clearly remember her giving me her teacher's edition to read (ooh! red notes printed in the margins!) and running out of the room. I learned later that she went to the principal who decided it was time for a parent meeting. Somehow between my mom and the 2 of them it was decided that I could go to the library at reading time and could read anything, just as long as I was reading. It was awfully freeing! Also, my mom signed me up for the Weekly Reader Book Club. It's now defunct so don't bother Googling. It was bought up by Scholastic I think and now it's totally different.

So, obviously, I am a friend of words.

I also adored math. As part of my word-love we would go to the public library every week and I could check out 2 books. In 2nd grade I found a book on fractions and I loved it so much I had to check it out. My mom tried to convince me to get a book that had some kind of story to it, but I was adamant -- besides, the other book I was checking out was a story. The reason I loved this book, whose title I can't remember for the life of me, is because I came across an illustration as I was thumbing through it that showed number lines and discussed infinity along with fractions. They were showing that all the fractions exist between 0 and 1, then again between 1 and 2, and I think they even showed that negative fractions exist to the left of 0. I had an epiphany (as in "An inspired understanding arising from connecting with profound insight, awareness, or enlightened truth") when I realized that each time I had counted "One, two, buckle my shoe" I had hopped right over infinity. The idea that you could always add 1 to a number and get a bigger one is something that made sense to me. But to think that you could always add 1 to a denominator (1/2, 1/3, 1/4...) and get a smaller number, forever and ever without end was the first time that I sensed God. I felt like a beam of light from the heavens shone down on that little illustration and it was all clear.

I think that is not only why I like numbers, but why I fail to see how science and religion could possible be at odds. How else could the beauty of numbers and math exist? It seems obvious to me that it is not some haphazard accident, but an intentional plan.

Anyway, the reason I mention it at all is to show how deeply I felt my love for both words and numbers. Math class after math class came and went and I felt as if things I was being taught were obvious. Like if I had only bothered to think about it before I would have seen how true it is that 4/5ths of 25 is 20. (Actually I just made that up on the spot. It was more advanced math than that, I just can't remember any specific examples.) Then in 9th grade I met Geometry. What the heck was that crap? Where were my numbers and letters from glorious Algebra? I actually had to have the friend that I had tutored all through Algebra I tutor me in Geometry. She now thought that the things I was struggling with were completely obvious. The tables had completely turned. Thank goodness it was only that year and the next year I was back to Algebra II!

In reading all the comments on Melissa's post today made me wonder if my whole "there are Algebra people and Geometry people" theory -- similar to Cat people and Dog people -- was wrong. Or at least if I had somehow fallen into the wrong category with all the non-word-lovers. Weird.

NaBloPoMo 2007

Last year I made an attempt to post every day in November as part of National Blog Posting Month '06. Ha! As you can see, I only managed 2 posts and then succumbed to the sleepiness of pregnancy.

This year I am not an official participant, mostly because I forgot to go sign up in October, but don't let that stop you. I'm still going to try to be better at getting my thoughts down. If that means I have to write on paper because the little ones don't want me sitting at my computer (oh, the whining!) so be it. I'll just put dates on the things I write long-hand and use that date when that entry gets transcribed.

I hope this works. I have at least 3 Works for Me Wednesday posts in my head, but I haven't posted them because if I don't sit down on Tuesday night then it's not right, right? Wrong! My new way of thinking is to write them ahead of time and then publish on Wednesday. Let's see if between paper and drafts I can get more productive.

Toys: Plastic vs. Wood

So with all the bazillion recalls lately toys have really been on my mind. I get the whole "wood is better" just like I get that I should be bringing my own cloth bags to the grocery store (I do, just not every stinkin' time). I started leaning toward plastic that doesn't have any paint that can be chewed off a long time ago. Then the recalls on toys that had too much lead in their paint started. Go check out the CPSC's search page and see how many you get for "lead paint" -- I found 60 when I limited the search to "in the last week"!!! That's insane.

So, despite all the "ooh, wood toys are better" I felt that if a spit-wet toy could leave paint marks on things (for awhile everything was a drum/drumstick), then that paint was also getting into The Biscuit. He's got enough problems, I'm not going to add some bizarre paint poisoning to the list. So plastic seemed nice and safe, paint-wise.

Then I was reading this post on Kerflop and a commenter mentioned off-gassing plastics. Well, crap. The kids are surrounded by off-gassing plastics now. What's that doing to them long-term?

What do you do? Where do you fall in this debate? I'd really like to know. I don't want everything to be rubbed with bees' wax just to be safe. Kids need color in their world.

Moms for Modesty

Ah, if only I could figure out buttons. This week's project: get the new WordPress blog up and running. I just don't want to learn how to do something here when I'm moving on anyway!

On to the topic at hand...

Get yourself on over to the Mission Statement post at Moms for Modesty and sign up if, like me, you feel that girls should be dressed like girls, not "ho's". Ugh. Hating the way I'm seeing girls dressed for the most part. If that means going into a store to expressly state why I won't be buying clothes there, then I will. Maybe by the time The Cupcake is in school there will be places that sell clothes for girls that want to look like girls instead of women.

Words That Encourage

{I hope Heather never starts a cult because apparently I would drink whatever Kool-aid she asked me to.}

My Biscuit's Daddy,

I knew when I was 14 that I would never get married or have children. I was deathly afraid to have a daughter thanks to a not-so-great relationship with my mom, and didn't like myself enough to imagine anyone else would ever like me. Both of these things are lodged in my psyche so deeply that I still cannot believe that you proposed. True we had dated for about a decade, but I was still shocked. So shocked that apparently I didn't actually say "yes" aloud and forgot to take a picture of you, even though in my mind I did speak and I did take the photo. Maybe stunned and incapable of functioning would be a better way to put it.

Now here we are 5 years later. I'm not sorry that I made us wait 2 more years for our wedding because I worked very hard to get you a meadow in the moonlight like you wanted. And I think it was a beautiful night. If only you could remember that the word "obey" was not uttered during the ceremony. Perhaps you were stunned as I was when you proposed and just thought you heard it?

I still cannot believe the life that we have. Who could have guessed that an old biddy like me could get pregnant so easily? And that the perfect boy we had for 3 days would suddenly turn into one who would need those awful surgeries? That we would be strong enough to help him recover from them and to develop into the rowdy toddler he is today? That his sister would follow so soon? And that having two children would be so much different than having one?

I know that sometimes you feel I am not on the team and am questioning your decisions. I know that you feel I tell you that you are wrong too often and that I go into debate mode too easily. I will try to remember (and I hope you will too) that those beautiful kids are proof that I think you are right. I don't think you are wrong, I just want to make sure that all bases are covered when you make these big decisions. If you've already considered those points then great. I'm glad we had the Volvo and I'm glad we turned it in when the lease was up. I'm glad you quit that crappy job where they didn't appreciate you. Yes, it is scary to not be out there and earning my own money and to know that it is not only me that depends on you for a roof and food but our children do as well. But look at what you have done! You've taken a firm non-believer like me and made me a mom. I never could have imagined I would love being a mom so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you for seeing the potential in me and helping me to unlock it. If you can do that then in my eyes you can do ANYTHING. I will gladly follow you anywhere.

And now the whole world knows it (so I can't come back later and say I don't remember I said it).

Lumoi

Chocolate Glaze Cures Adultitis

Just because I'm in the mood to share this with more people. I wrote this up for an entry into Daring Young Mom's adultitis cure give-away. The history part at the end wasn't in my comment though.

Here is my way to be more childlike.

Sneak a snack when no one is looking. You know your kids do (or will do) that when you aren't. My fave is this chocolate glaze on vanilla ice cream. I get to have it when they nap at the same time as a victory snack.

1 pound of bittersweet chocolate
1/2 pound of butter

Melt, stir, indulge.


Notes: Trader Joe's Pound Plus bar works great. You can make a small batch with no adjustments. Unsalted butter works too, but I add a bit of salt then because I like chocolate and salty (not a lot of salt though).


Helpful math: If you use the Trader Joe's bar here are the proper proportions for smaller batches.
20 squares + 1 stick of butter
10 squares + 1/2 stick of butter (4 tablespoons)
5 squares + 2 tablespoons of butter


History:
This recipe is from a now-defunct bakery I worked at. We used it instead of frosting on our chocolate cakes by popping the cake in the freezer between putting on thin layers. Build it up until no cake crumbs or filling is visible. Top with warm, strained or food-processed apricot glaze if you want it shiny. Keep cool if you aren't going to cut it that day. On the day of serving you can leave it out for hours as long as you've done a good job of sealing it with the chocolate. Cut with a sharp knife dipped in HOT water. (It will probably crack when cut. All the pieces that crack off are treats for the person who was forced to cut the cake.)

Enjoy!