From Where Do You Draw Your Inspiration?

The-not-so-Curly Blonde and I enjoying a pre-dinner cocktail while Brother #1 basted the Thanksgiving turkey (2007).

I like eating, drinking, and smoking. I love processed meats and dark, frothy ales as well as the smell of tobacco and the sound a lighter makes after a glass of wine in the midst of a happy party or an intimate conversation. I also love cooking healthy meals from scratch, getting up with a clear head at the crack of dawn to run 10 miles, and shouting above a big family with a resonating voice and big lungs. Moreover, I love my son.

What is moderation? What does it mean to be moderate? I think it means that you can’t draw your inspiration from guilt. You can’t live your life feeling sorry for yourself or others, and you can’t expect to change anything by living in a chronic state of justification of your actions.   

Lily Wallace would probably tell me to include more healthy fats in my diet and eat more fresh fruits and vegetables. She would throw her hands up in the air and shake her head at the half-eaten box of Girl Scout shortbreads laying in front of my computer and stacks of edit piles without realistic due dates behind them. I am guessing she was my age in the 1920’s, so she would probably offer me a cigarette to go with my sherry as we conversed. And while I have not smoked a cigarette since about a year before I found out I was preggo, I would not hesitate :) 

All I know of Ms. Wallace, the author of my antique cookbook, is that she came to the United States in 1900 from England. She was a specialist in home economics and wrote several books on matters of cooking, food, and the home, from approximately 1908 to 1947. Fascinating woman, though I really don’t know anything about her personal life or even when she died.  One thing I do know about that era based on the cookbooks and recipes within them (mini snippets of history) is that the American way of life seemed SO much more moderate then compared to now. 

I have to wonder, does living in (or not living in) moderation have anything to do with the source of where a person draws their inspiration for life?

I'm certainly no saint, but I grew up learning how to be driven by something other than the horrible cycle of guilt and binging. I now realize as an adult looking back on my childhood, is that this was due, in part, to my parents’ love not just of food, but of the land it comes from and of the people who cared enough to pass down the skills of creating something nourishing from scratch. 

Welcome, Spring!

On a brisk and blustery Sunday, Baby H and I welcomed Spring on her first official day by test-driving jogging stroller #2. It was not bad, though running with a jogging stroller is just weird. It feels like being on a treadmill and putting your hands on the rails as you run. It’s unnatural not to move your arms and it is challenging to get an effective “lean” in your form on a treadmill, just as it appears to be while running with a jogging stroller. Because of the forced form changes, running with a jogging stroller almost uses completely different muscles than running solo! That being said, it is not terrible. My will to run and be outside in whatever form life currently provides, exceeds any initial amount of whining this body ever does. 

In addition, Baby H LOVES being outside. I have never witnessed something so instantly calming to his little baby countenance (besides nursing or being held by his Daddy) as when he is outside. Initially, my thoughts on this are that “he takes after his parents”, but aren’t all kids calmed by being outdoors? For that matter, aren’t all people, deep down? Who, in their heart of hearts, is not instantly calmed by a stroll on a windy beach; a hike through a forest on a warm, sunny day; or a fast slalom down a mountain of fresh powder in the heart of winter? Are we not all born with this need to dwell outside of our boxes? 

Welcome, Spring! It is here we greet Our Maker with prayers of thanksgiving and renewal in our hearts. We raise our glass (or our mugs, in this case) in gratitude for giving us a place to have an impromptu picnic in the grass.     

Loving Life in 1-Hour Increments

Life with a 3-4 month old is best appreciated in 1-hour increments of time. Within that one hour, you have approximately 12 minutes of free time. Thus, if the new parent is not careful, time can slip by right before your very eyes like a plate of warm brownies or a cheap yet surprisingly good bottle of Oregon Pinot on a Sunday afternoon :) You must soak up every moment, every little smile, and every breath because the future is coming as sure as the seasons will change. We are doing our very best to live in this place, this home of NOW. And speaking of home...our little family has moved once more! The last few weeks have been a whirlwind of unpacking boxes and getting things organized as well as remembering to prioritize, relax, and steal random kisses from one another.    

Baby H is GOOD at stealing kisses! He started doing this more frequently in the last couple of weeks, and he means business with those kisses. The trick is to hurry up and close your mouth (and try to stop laughing) when he does it, or he'll stick his little baby tongue right in there. He makes me laugh every day.

We don't go out to eat a lot these days, but we've recently recognized the need for planned fun :) It's like when you force a smile...9 times out of 10 it turns into a real smile. Not that planned fun is forced fun :) Getting over our fear of Baby H crying in public has been a biggie for both of us. He really doesn't cry that much unless it's nap time, and he loves sports pubs and any place we can sit outside. In this picture, he cannot take his eyes off of the SDSU-BYU game. The fact is, he loves most anything for exactly one hour, and we love him every second.

Cousins! Baby H Loves playmats, and he especially loves Nephew #3's sea-themed playmat. We think it's the octopus with the big eyes. He talks to pretty much anything with eyes. And while he is definitely moving away from being on his back, it is fun to see him so focused and alert when he plays. Nephew #3 is 5 months older than Baby H and very curious and aware of him. He knows how to touch him "soft" and pats his head when he is crying (Of course, I missed this sweet scene). Brother #1 and The Curly Blonde have been phenomenal, new-parent advice-givers and babysitters. The Force is definitely strong in those two. Also, I have decided Nephew #3 looks like a Who from Whoville...

I started reading to my baby when he was about 6 weeks old. At 9 weeks, I noticed he very attentively followed the pages, and at 12 weeks, he could reach out and turn the pages himself (with some assistance). At 15 weeks, he becomes obviously excited at certain pages and certain books, even seeming to remember the various interactive steps in some of them (like touching bears ears, drumming the snum (in this photo), and counting cockatoos). the last 2 child development books I thumbed through mentioned BEGINNING to read to your kid at 8 months! Who is coming up with this stuff?! Really?? I was pretty shocked at the fact that there are people out there having kids who would really not be reading to them by 8 months and would need a reminder. Literacy = Independence! Just my opinion, but seriously...8 months?? Isn't it the goal of every parent to raise a totally happy, independent and self-reliant, compassionate human being? How do you accomplish that if you don't teach them to appreciate reading? I feel like, if you aren't doing those things by 8 months, then it must not be a priority. And if it isn't a priority by the time your child has been in this world for 8 whole months, when will it be? 

A minor rant! I know...Can you tell I am back to appreciating and enjoying my FULL morning mug of joy? :) My awesome Mom got me those glass mugs for my birthday this year. I had been salivating over hers all winter. They are perfect for coffee, tea, juice, shakes, and of course, the occasional, frothy Guinness (Extra Stout). The new casa sports this cute little built-in breakfast nook at the end of the kitchen. It's basically an L-shaped bar right as you walk through the door. Now that we can see the floor and actually have a picture hung up on the wall, we are excited to make use of this feature. Right now we kind of use it as a place to dump mail and plan our daily tasks.

BAH just unpacked the last of my cookbook collection this weekend, so I made him a yummy birthday cheesecake from my 1942 Lilly Wallace American Cookbook. I picked her up for $1 at a used book sale 12 years ago, and she follows me wherever I go. Though I am quite sure Lily would not approve of the fact that I have an entire pantry devoted to jars of bugs suspended in alcohol and petrified lizards or that I use butter instead of lard and microwave-steam my veggies, hopefully she would approve of my spin on her cheesecake :)

Baby H is better at test-driving jogging strollers than making cheesecake, and he also helped this momma discover the local community garden this last week. We are looking forward to making memories and adventures in our new neighborhood this spring and summer, and we hope you all are loving life in whatever increments time affords you.