A Creative Rut

I have had the pleasure of helping to judge a youth writing competition this week for work.  We instructed 3rd – 8th grade students in the area to write a 300-500 word story titled “The Lost Dragon of White Lake,” and right now I am so impressed with the creativity of the entries!  I don’t remember a time when I let my imagination run so wild, and it has been refreshing to jump inside a s head for a bit and enjoy the ride.  The stories have been so interesting that I have had a hard time writing in my own blog for fear of sounding…boring?  and predictable?  My life is anything but predictable right now.  But then again…as a parent, you can pretty much guarantee that at some stage you will be cleaning poop out of the tub (Thursday night), cleaning projective vomit off one of your only clean shirts that fits and looks decent (this morning), drinking too much coffee (every morning), heating up leftover leftovers for dinner (Thursday), and attempting to balance the needs of your husband (attention NOW) with the needs of your kiddos (attention RIGHT NOW) and your need for sleep.

The summary of this is that right now I’m trying not to fall into a rut, where life is predictable chaotic.   I’m missing those days when imagination was all that was needed for a good time, when my worries and stresses didn’t stifle my ability to enjoy the moment, and when I too could have written a kick-ass entry in the “Lost Dragon of White Lake” competition.  So perhaps I’ll try:

……..

Hmm, well, that didn’t go so well.  Maybe Dragons just aren’t my thing.

This meal was my thing.  And Austin’s – a great way to get a wee one to eat fish!

Cod in a Ginger Cream Sauce

1.5 T butter (the real stuff!)

1.5 T flour*

1 cup milk*

2 cloves garlic, crushed*

1 T fresh grated ginger*

2  fillets Cod (I’m guessing they were 5-6 ounces each?)

salt and pepper, to taste

Melt butter over medium heat in a large fry pan.  Using a whisk, mix in flour till a paste forms.  Sloooooowwwwwly add milk, whisking constantly, till well combined.  Add garlic and ginger and mix well.  Turn heat to medium-low, and add fish fillets.  Cover and cook, turning once, till fish is flakey and cooked through.

*all measurements approximate and can be adjusted to your taste/desired creamy consistancy.  I don’t like to dirty measuring cups.

This served Lyndon, Austin, and I, with enough leftovers for Austin’s lunch the next day.

This was darn easy, but incredibly tasty.  We served it with bok choy that was sauted in garlic, ginger, and homemade pepper jelly, over some kashi pilaf.  Yum!

Happy Mothers Day – your son is a Pill Head

Ok, so last weekend was fantastic – with one, rather LARGE, hiccup.  I wasn’t sure if I was going to share this story, as it makes me sick to my stomach and worried that, at any moment, DHS will show up at my door…but hey, I’ve never claimed to be perfect or even applied for the “Mother of the Year” title, so hopefully sharing this just means that one day I can look back and [gulp] laugh (?) at the irony of feeling like a chump of a mom on Mothers Day.  maybe.

The day started out fabulously – I actually got to sleep in a bit (after 8 a.m.!), Austin had slept through the night rather than pulling one of his 4 a.m. wakey-wakey tricks, and Wesley had slept relatively well for a 2-week old…the sun was shining, and everyone was in a good mood.  Lyndon made us a fantastic breakfast, and dad and I had just headed out to bring Mom in her mother’s day present – a wheelbarrow filled with tools for gardening.  We were about to pull the wheelbarrow in to the house when Lyndon came racing outside, screaming “Janelle – how many pills were left in your motrin prescription?  HOW MANY PILLS WERE LEFT??”  I raced inside, where mom and Katie were digging bits of pill out of Austin’s mouth, while he screamed like he was being stabbed with a hot poker.  Somehow, the kid had gotten into my purse, dug out my bottle of prescription motrin leftover from surgery, and managed to get past the “child proof” lid and was chewing 600 mg motrin like it was candy.  um…NOT GOOD! In the frenzy, I couldn’t remember how may were left, and wasn’t capable of doing the math (supposed to take 3 per day, it has been 14 days…probably remembered to take 2/day on average…not that hard, eh?  try that when you’re worried your kid is going to die).  I called 911, who connected me with Poison Control.

Poison control, should you not have had the privilege of calling them, is fantastic. The lady calmed me right down, talked through the situation, and reasoned that since the pills were HUGE, they didn’t taste good (Austin had come in to Katie holding an empty bottle and making a nasty face, trying to dig the chewed-up bits out himself – probably a good sign he hadn’t ingested much), and toddlers don’t swallow these things whole – they chew – he hadn’t swallowed much.  She did the math on what his little body could handle, and reasoned that he, at most, had ingested half his daily allowance for ibuprofen.  She then told us what to do (feed him something, watch for vomiting or excessive tiredness) and said she would call back in an hour to check on us.

In the meantime, seven volunteer firemen and EMT’s showed up at our house to check out the little guy.  I felt like an idgit – we know these guys – they are our neighbors and friends, and we had called them away from their families on Mothers Day because I hadn’t been responsible with my pills.  I can’t believe how fast they got to the house.  I bet it was all of 6 minutes, at the very most, between the time I called 911 and when we had them walking in the door.  And they were amazing – calm, reassuring, and professional – they didn’t make us feel guilty at all.

All of the hullabaloo turned out to be unnecessary – Austin was soon smiling away and happily eating a bowl of cheerios, and had a great day.  I finally reasoned out how many pills had been left in the bottle and, they were all accounted for, meaning that at most Austin had maybe swallowed between 1/4 and 1/2 a pill.  [insert deep sigh of relief].  However, I didn’t really recover from the scare for the rest of the day, and it certainly clouded my mothers day – lets just say I didn’t feel like all that awesome of a mom despite the holiday.

Needless to say, we’ve taken some steps to make sure that Austin won’t be repeating this experience. I now have the number for poison control on a magnet on the fridge, and may just put it in my cell phone, just in case.  And we’ll be buying all of the volunteer firemen and EMT’s a beer or two next time the occasion arises.

Don’t feed the children

I am a little (OK, often quite a LOT) anal about what I feed my wee one…but I try to be realistic.  As long as the majority of the food he consumes is “real,” I figure we’re doing oK…right?  I don’t want to be too uptight when others offer him treats – or I should I be more insistent about my food ideals?  His brain and body are growing FAST and he certainly doesn’t need to the crap, and while I can control what goes in his mouth, should I?

I’m struggling with this at Austin’s daycare as well.  The kids get “treats” there after they finish their meals – licorice, Tootsie rolls, etc…and I know a little sugar won’t kill him, but Tootsie rolls are made from hydrogenated oils…and he just doesn’t need it!  But I feel like a Scrooge telling them not to give him anything, not to mention that he will cry and carry on if the other kids are getting a treat and he is left empty-handed.  Am I overly anal if I provide a different treat for him that, although still sugary empty calories, is at least free of food dyes, hydrogenated oils, and corn syrup?  What to do….

Pregnancy Guilt

Mothers and guilt – the two are unfortunately intertwined together, often all too tightly.  Guilt looms around every corner – if you’re playing with your kids, the housework/dinner making/attention to spouse suffers, and vice versa.  Every choice is a trade-off, and with all that we lump on ourselves to accomplish, it is nearly impossible to have a guilt-free day.

Pregnancy guilt is another monster entirely.  I feel like, during normal circumstances, I know my body pretty well, and if I listen to it, then it treats me well.  We live in a happy harmony.  Pregnancy introduces so many tangents that I no longer feel like I can trust my instincts like I normally would.  Examples:

• Exercise.  I know I need to move, but I feel so tired.  Do I ignore the exhaustion to get a little movement in?  When I’m not knocked up, I know that exercise will energize me, but when pregnant I worry about taking it too far.  Also, I often have a sore back or hips.  Do I ignore this pain, knowing that it isn’t caused by my movements – rather, by a growing body inside my abdomen…and press on?  Or do I try to stretch and rest and leave my poor aching back be?
• Food.  I know I should be eating my “pregnancy diet” a-la “What to expect…” but the body wants what the body wants, and I practically gag at the sight of a salad.  My veggies have to be cooked within an inch of their life for me to stomach them, and I know that isn’t ideal.  And the other day, I was actually craving a hot dog – I NEVER eat hot dogs and pretty much think they are one of the world’s most disgusting foods.  Where did that come from?
• Time with hubby.  We run on fundamentally different schedules – I’m the morning person, he the night owl, but normally I can rally and stay up with him a few nights a week, ensuring we get some “quality time” in the evenings.  While pregnant?  Not so much.  Bring on the guilt.

For me, I actually think the guilt is the worst part of pregnancy.  (well, besides the awful maternity jeans that just don’t stay up, but that is another post entirely…).  I handle the getting bigger fairly well, seem to feel relatively decent for the most part, and I’m lucky enough to have good genes that allow me to escape (at least, so far – knock wood!) without stretch marks or a belly the size of Houston.   The hormone fluctuations aren’t a picnic either, but the guilt…oh the guilt…