Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Monday, March 26, 2012
Pinterest. It's What's for Dinner. #1
The best of:
I pinned these because, according to the people of Pinterest, these are the best ever chocolate chip cookies. We're big critics over here at the Wilson household. Cookies are practically a food group-- at least to my husband who was caught eating packaged cookies literally as I was putting these on the cookie sheet. I'd have to say, though...these were not amazing. I'm actually not even sure I'd make them again, but they don't go into the "terrible" category either. Just meh. I brought some over to a friend's house and I asked her what was wrong with them and she told me it was the sweetness factor. Perhaps more sugar needed? The "secret" ingredient of cornstarch gave them an interesting flavor, I think.
The batter was really fluffy-- almost like soft serve ice cream.
Weber Vegetable Grill Basket
I was making roasted asparagus this week and thought of how I needed to own a BBQ veggie basket so I didn't have to roast my small or cut veggies in the oven during the summertime.
I bought this on Amazon and it was on my doorstep the next day. I cannot wait to try it out! I've been wanting one of these ever since my friend's husband made us dinner one evening-- he BBQ'ed the green beans and I think they were the best I've ever had. Apparently you can even put marinated pieces of meat/seafood and marinated veggies in here. I'm also thinking fish tacos, veggie burgers that don't always hold up well on the grill, and pineapple chunks! We will be testing it out this week.
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| These people think I care about this. |
Aromatic Noodles with Lime Peanut Sauce
Made this with onions, broccoli, string beans, carrots, fresh ginger, fresh garlic, fresh lime juice, and peanut butter. Mmm. It was good but must add sauce right before eating, otherwise the noodles will soak in the sauce and it will be dry. Unless you add gobs of oil-- which I have a hard time recommending.
Frozen Yogurt Drops
I saw these a few times and decided to pin because I had two containers of yogurt with expirations drawing near. I didn't want to waste them and knew I could freeze them in larger discs of yogurt for single-serve use in smoothies. It was hugely successful and a great way to save some cash buying the yogurt that is about to expire in 2-3 days for half price at the grocery store. And a bonus is that it adds the chill and slightly icy consistency I love in smoothies.
Still in the queue:
No-Bake Strawberry Icebox Cake
This is made with graham crackers, a whole lot of whipping cream, strawberries, chocolate ganache, and a few other ingredients. It looks elegant and I cannot wait to make it. I was thinking about making it for our neighbors. I'll keep you posted.
Chocolate Nachos
These remind me of the nachos we had over Christmas when we visited South Padre Island, TX.
Creamy Avocado Yogurt Dip
I love avocados. There are certain foods that I don't consider unhealthy, no matter the fat content. Avocados, nuts, yogurt, and hummus are all on the list. It's loaded with protein as it's made with greek yogurt-- something I don't love plain but it makes a great base to replace the sour cream in many recipes and dips! My only apprehension with this recipe is wasting two whole avocados if I don't like it. Hah.
Sweet Potato Cakes with Sour Cream and Chipotle Black Bean Salsa
I'm just starting to jump on the sweet potato bandwagon. I've been a skeptic my whole life because I always hated how people prepared them so sweet. I'm not one to like my vegetables coated in sugar and marshmallows. I just assumed that was the only way people ever made them, so I avoided. And once again, my friend's husband (also known as "gourmet husband") came to the rescue and made these amazing, spicy sweet potatoes. I loved them. And recently I've had them in the version of french fries and loved them as well. I'll be honest though-- a regular ol' russet potato still tastes better to me, but at least I'm branching out!
Roasted, Spiced Chickpeas
Here's another item I don't loooove. Chickpeas. I love them smashed, but for some reason I don't love to eat them whole. I'm hoping this little recipe will bring some edge to the ol' garbanzo bean. Crunchy = good. Spicy = good. Virtually fat free = good. Can't go wrong, right?
Make anything exceptional based on a Pinterest recommendation lately? It really is my favorite way to document recipes I've made and want to make.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
In the Wee Hours of the Morning
Scene: Baby cries and attempts to break free of his amazing, miraculous swaddle blanket for the 24,986th time. This time, he wants food. Husband picks him up from the co-sleeper and changes him before handing him off to me in bed for a feeding. Baby is fed and put back into his super secure blanket made for none other than crazy babies who flail their arms like lunatics. Baby is back in the co-sleeper attempting to break free once again, but instead grunting as loud as his little body will allow. A conversation begins.
Husband: So how are you doing in the head?
Me: Um, okay. I had a PTSD moment yesterday.
Husband: What about?
Me: I was driving home from Danielle's and looked in the rear view mirror at B in the back seat and was certain his lips were bright red/purple.
Husband: Like A-man's, huh?
Me: Yeah. It took everything in me not to pull off to the side of the road to check and make sure he was still alive. I know it's totally irrational to assume that within 5 minutes my son would be dead and his lips turned that awful color on an 82-degree day, but I swore I saw it.
Husband: I have had a few of those moments, too, where I have to stop and look closely to make sure he's still alive.
PTSD plays tricks with your mind. It's awful. There just is no proper way to describe that horrendous color, is there?
~~~~~~~
This morning was B's third doctor's appt. since he left the NICU on February 26th. He's officially 4 weeks old and marks one month out of my belly tomorrow. I think I'm most shocked by not being pregnant than I am him being a month old. I've just spent so much of the last few years pregnant that I don't know what to do with myself!
Back to the appt. B's last appt. showed he was at 7lb 3oz. at 2 weeks old. He was expected to be back to his birth weight (7lb 6oz.) but was not. He wasn't the best eater for his first three days of life as he couldn't breathe and was struggling to master that. I'm proud to say, however, that in those 2 weeks+ since his last appointment, he hasn't had a single bottle or drop of formula. He has been exclusively breastfed and is now at a whopping 8lb even. It's always the fear of a breastfeeding mother that their child is not getting enough-- especially when they seem ready to eat just an hour or two after the last feeding. Knowing the doctor was still concerned about his weight gain, she had us schedule a 4-week weight checkup for today (yay, another co-pay!). He made sure to pee all over their table. Atta boy. I felt a bit defeated after that last appointment, as you can imagine. He had left the NICU based on our demands and had been eating like a champ, but was still not up to the recommended weight.
Maybe it's a misconception, but as a BLM, I feel a strong urgency to prove myself as a mother. I know that breastfeeding is best for B. We knew that pulling him from the NICU when we saw he had healed of his TTN was the right decision. We're taking every extra precaution to shield him from germs as we can in his infancy. I still can't help but feel like I'm being judged on the outside for being an unfit mother. I am not asking for reassurance, just stating a fact. When one of your children is dead, it lowers your confidence and ability to judge just how well your mother's intuition works. It didn't work the first time... so why now? Others must think the same. They must think that I don't have what it takes to be a fit mother. It's completely false, but it's also something I'm totally sensitive about. I'm no expert, but I might assume that's another area of PTSD that creeps in to invade what good is left or left uncovered in my life.
I spend hours upon hours just reveling in how beautiful and precious our son is. I'm thankful for every moment. I just know I'll miss these moments. With every grunt, cry, movement, breath... I'm still in absolute awe that this little baby came from my body and he is ours.
Husband: So how are you doing in the head?
Me: Um, okay. I had a PTSD moment yesterday.
Husband: What about?
Me: I was driving home from Danielle's and looked in the rear view mirror at B in the back seat and was certain his lips were bright red/purple.
Husband: Like A-man's, huh?
Me: Yeah. It took everything in me not to pull off to the side of the road to check and make sure he was still alive. I know it's totally irrational to assume that within 5 minutes my son would be dead and his lips turned that awful color on an 82-degree day, but I swore I saw it.
Husband: I have had a few of those moments, too, where I have to stop and look closely to make sure he's still alive.
PTSD plays tricks with your mind. It's awful. There just is no proper way to describe that horrendous color, is there?
~~~~~~~
This morning was B's third doctor's appt. since he left the NICU on February 26th. He's officially 4 weeks old and marks one month out of my belly tomorrow. I think I'm most shocked by not being pregnant than I am him being a month old. I've just spent so much of the last few years pregnant that I don't know what to do with myself!
Back to the appt. B's last appt. showed he was at 7lb 3oz. at 2 weeks old. He was expected to be back to his birth weight (7lb 6oz.) but was not. He wasn't the best eater for his first three days of life as he couldn't breathe and was struggling to master that. I'm proud to say, however, that in those 2 weeks+ since his last appointment, he hasn't had a single bottle or drop of formula. He has been exclusively breastfed and is now at a whopping 8lb even. It's always the fear of a breastfeeding mother that their child is not getting enough-- especially when they seem ready to eat just an hour or two after the last feeding. Knowing the doctor was still concerned about his weight gain, she had us schedule a 4-week weight checkup for today (yay, another co-pay!). He made sure to pee all over their table. Atta boy. I felt a bit defeated after that last appointment, as you can imagine. He had left the NICU based on our demands and had been eating like a champ, but was still not up to the recommended weight.
Maybe it's a misconception, but as a BLM, I feel a strong urgency to prove myself as a mother. I know that breastfeeding is best for B. We knew that pulling him from the NICU when we saw he had healed of his TTN was the right decision. We're taking every extra precaution to shield him from germs as we can in his infancy. I still can't help but feel like I'm being judged on the outside for being an unfit mother. I am not asking for reassurance, just stating a fact. When one of your children is dead, it lowers your confidence and ability to judge just how well your mother's intuition works. It didn't work the first time... so why now? Others must think the same. They must think that I don't have what it takes to be a fit mother. It's completely false, but it's also something I'm totally sensitive about. I'm no expert, but I might assume that's another area of PTSD that creeps in to invade what good is left or left uncovered in my life.
I spend hours upon hours just reveling in how beautiful and precious our son is. I'm thankful for every moment. I just know I'll miss these moments. With every grunt, cry, movement, breath... I'm still in absolute awe that this little baby came from my body and he is ours.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Firsts
I posted before I was even pregnant with B about getting a massage and how uncomfortable I felt about the whole process. I am one who loves that luxury. I don't require much to be happy-- expect maybe good food and a solid night's sleep. I'm not really high maintenance in that respect. But man do I love it when I have the opportunity to get a massage. I mentioned how after Andrew died, I didn't really feel comfortable or worthy of one. They're indulgences and I didn't feel like splurging when inside I felt so dark and cold. I couldn't possibly allow myself to relax in my own skin, let alone allow someone to soothe away the scars that seemed to have a hold over every part of my body.
I can't say those scars are healed, because they aren't. But I can say that I'm just more comfortable with them. I hate them. I hate being able to say I have a child who isn't alive and one who is. It's just not fair to them, my family, or myself. But it's the real deal. I'm just more comfortable saying that the scars are there because I love my son-- my son who is no longer alive.
With that said, I got a massage yesterday. My parents bought me a massage while I was pregnant with B and I refused to use it until he was born. I couldn't risk having a massage and potentially compromising (albeit a small risk) the life of my unborn child. I also didn't feel like I was ready to "celebrate" and in many ways, I view massages as a celebration of sorts. Or certainly a splurge for "special" occasions. His birth is definitely one of those. He was alive and in the arms of his dad when I drove away and indulged. It felt weird to be pampered. It was the first massage I've had since before Andrew was conceived. It was the first massage I've had since becoming a mother for the first time. A first, definitely.
Last night was all about food firsts. I've never made lettuce wraps before, but I decided it was due time! I made two different dishes to roll into wraps. I made P.F. Chang's chicken lettuce wraps and an Asian quinoa lettuce cup filling. I'm not a huge fan of soy-based products like tofu (though I'll eat them if made for me) based on texture, but I love quinoa and other grains/legumes/seeds. It turned out quite well. And since we wanted to represent many cultures while still celebrating a "green" St. Patrick's Day, we also enjoyed some margaritas. That was not a first alcoholic beverage since B's birth, however... as I had that IPA I mentioned in my last post.
Today was full of more firsts. When my parents came to visit, my mom and I walked the downtown in our area and strolled through shops and ate cupcakes. It was nice. That was a first. But this morning was also a very special first. It's something I've dreamed about ever since I saw those two lines on that pregnancy test back in March of 2010. I dreamed of waking up on a weekend morning, and heading downtown for a stroller walk, bagels, and a stop into Baby Gap. It finally happened this morning. We strolled into Einstein's Bagels and enjoyed a few everything bagels with light cream cheese and found ourselves buying two cute onesies at Baby Gap before taking a stroll along the riverwalk and having strangers admire our little one. It felt sort of normal, but totally overdue. Like 15 months overdue. We heard comments from strangers about how cute he was and how although we aren't getting much sleep now, that it will improve over time.
We came home to another first. The bulbs we planted with the help of a friend to honor Andrew's birthday and celebrate B's upcoming birth are sprouting. We headed outside to uncover them.
While outside, we planted a card. You read that right. Ray's Aunt Ceil sent us some adorable clothes for B and a natural card embedded with wildflower seeds. It's meant to be planted whole. We found a pot about 10 feet away from the A & B bulbs where we are hoping those wildflowers begin to sprout.
I can't say those scars are healed, because they aren't. But I can say that I'm just more comfortable with them. I hate them. I hate being able to say I have a child who isn't alive and one who is. It's just not fair to them, my family, or myself. But it's the real deal. I'm just more comfortable saying that the scars are there because I love my son-- my son who is no longer alive.
With that said, I got a massage yesterday. My parents bought me a massage while I was pregnant with B and I refused to use it until he was born. I couldn't risk having a massage and potentially compromising (albeit a small risk) the life of my unborn child. I also didn't feel like I was ready to "celebrate" and in many ways, I view massages as a celebration of sorts. Or certainly a splurge for "special" occasions. His birth is definitely one of those. He was alive and in the arms of his dad when I drove away and indulged. It felt weird to be pampered. It was the first massage I've had since before Andrew was conceived. It was the first massage I've had since becoming a mother for the first time. A first, definitely.
Last night was all about food firsts. I've never made lettuce wraps before, but I decided it was due time! I made two different dishes to roll into wraps. I made P.F. Chang's chicken lettuce wraps and an Asian quinoa lettuce cup filling. I'm not a huge fan of soy-based products like tofu (though I'll eat them if made for me) based on texture, but I love quinoa and other grains/legumes/seeds. It turned out quite well. And since we wanted to represent many cultures while still celebrating a "green" St. Patrick's Day, we also enjoyed some margaritas. That was not a first alcoholic beverage since B's birth, however... as I had that IPA I mentioned in my last post.
Recipe for the chicken lettuce wraps found here.
And the quinoa here.
Today was full of more firsts. When my parents came to visit, my mom and I walked the downtown in our area and strolled through shops and ate cupcakes. It was nice. That was a first. But this morning was also a very special first. It's something I've dreamed about ever since I saw those two lines on that pregnancy test back in March of 2010. I dreamed of waking up on a weekend morning, and heading downtown for a stroller walk, bagels, and a stop into Baby Gap. It finally happened this morning. We strolled into Einstein's Bagels and enjoyed a few everything bagels with light cream cheese and found ourselves buying two cute onesies at Baby Gap before taking a stroll along the riverwalk and having strangers admire our little one. It felt sort of normal, but totally overdue. Like 15 months overdue. We heard comments from strangers about how cute he was and how although we aren't getting much sleep now, that it will improve over time.
We came home to another first. The bulbs we planted with the help of a friend to honor Andrew's birthday and celebrate B's upcoming birth are sprouting. We headed outside to uncover them.
While outside, we planted a card. You read that right. Ray's Aunt Ceil sent us some adorable clothes for B and a natural card embedded with wildflower seeds. It's meant to be planted whole. We found a pot about 10 feet away from the A & B bulbs where we are hoping those wildflowers begin to sprout.
Sprout little seeds, sprout.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
A Jumble of Thoughts
Here we are. He'll be three weeks old in a matter of hours and I'm a stay-at-home-mom for the very first time in my life. It's weird. It's humbling. It's (sometimes) boring. It's wonderful.
I was speaking with a friend the other day about this phenomenon. She lost her firstborn as well and has now been staying home with her second child for the last couple months. She still has the itch. The itch for a life outside of the SAHM world. I do too. I still love and cherish my career as a teacher and I'm thankful that I'll be starting another graduate course next week. It will give me that sense of fulfillment that is different than being a mother. Though I have to say-- staring at his beautiful face makes me really thankful I had another chance. I try not to think about how this should've been my life all along-- how 15 months ago, I should've been a SAHM to my son. Now here with B, I want so desperately to have two boys in my home. What would it be like to be a mother of two living boys? It's a dream I allow myself to wonder about quite frequently in the middle of the night while I sit breastfeeding (exclusively!) my second son-- Andrew's little brother. The sound of Andrew and Benjamin makes my heart sing. It's cheesy to say, but it's really true. I love the sound of their names together and just wish they were both physically here.
My parents came to visit this weekend. They held in their arms a baby that was mine. And it was totally, incredibly special. I can't help but think that it was even more special because I know how much we've all experienced and lost to get to a point of livelihood. We had to endure a pregnancy and birth of a son/grandson so desperately wanted-- a first grandchild to both sides of our family-- a loss, a miscarriage, and then another pregnancy and birth all to reach this point. My parents are proud. There's no doubt they'd make amazing grandparents to our two boys. Oh how I wish I could present that as reality. I haven't cried as many tears since B has arrived, but I sit here right now typing in a pool of sobs. I hear the coos in the background of a sweet little boy and finally my home is not silent. The doors are open and the nursery is walked in. The items are getting used. Some will never be used and I'm okay with that. Andrew has a piece of our lives and hearts, physically and emotionally. His name is still on the wall in the nursery and his little train toy that bears his name is still on the bookshelf. I don't know when I will be able to bring myself to take it down. I have nothing to replace it with. B doesn't sleep in there anyway and in many ways, it still feels like they share the space. The memories, hopes, dreams, and love of Andrew still cloud the room itself-- at least to me. I feel the presence of them both.
I have so many emotions. Most of them revolve around love, but many around fear. I fear, still, that B will be taken from us. I know too much. I've noticed a little redness that lines his eyelids and I have a fear that he has some incurable sickness. I'm aware that it's just my BLM tendencies striking me down, but it's hard to bury them. They're all I've known and immersed myself in for the past 15 months. It's the reality I live in having a son who left this earth far sooner than any child ever should.
My mind is everywhere, but mostly just thankful. B is such an innocent being that has no clue his parents are so totally emotionally screwed up. He doesn't know how hard we have fought to start a family and how sad that makes us. I don't ever want to burden him with that reality, but it almost seems impossible to hide.
In less somber news, I went for a jog for the first time since June and it felt amazing. I also had a Goose Island IPA and felt unable to drive. My love for cooking has not ceased. My love for the husband and a couple little boys is certainly what I've been focusing most of my energy on though.
I was speaking with a friend the other day about this phenomenon. She lost her firstborn as well and has now been staying home with her second child for the last couple months. She still has the itch. The itch for a life outside of the SAHM world. I do too. I still love and cherish my career as a teacher and I'm thankful that I'll be starting another graduate course next week. It will give me that sense of fulfillment that is different than being a mother. Though I have to say-- staring at his beautiful face makes me really thankful I had another chance. I try not to think about how this should've been my life all along-- how 15 months ago, I should've been a SAHM to my son. Now here with B, I want so desperately to have two boys in my home. What would it be like to be a mother of two living boys? It's a dream I allow myself to wonder about quite frequently in the middle of the night while I sit breastfeeding (exclusively!) my second son-- Andrew's little brother. The sound of Andrew and Benjamin makes my heart sing. It's cheesy to say, but it's really true. I love the sound of their names together and just wish they were both physically here.
My parents came to visit this weekend. They held in their arms a baby that was mine. And it was totally, incredibly special. I can't help but think that it was even more special because I know how much we've all experienced and lost to get to a point of livelihood. We had to endure a pregnancy and birth of a son/grandson so desperately wanted-- a first grandchild to both sides of our family-- a loss, a miscarriage, and then another pregnancy and birth all to reach this point. My parents are proud. There's no doubt they'd make amazing grandparents to our two boys. Oh how I wish I could present that as reality. I haven't cried as many tears since B has arrived, but I sit here right now typing in a pool of sobs. I hear the coos in the background of a sweet little boy and finally my home is not silent. The doors are open and the nursery is walked in. The items are getting used. Some will never be used and I'm okay with that. Andrew has a piece of our lives and hearts, physically and emotionally. His name is still on the wall in the nursery and his little train toy that bears his name is still on the bookshelf. I don't know when I will be able to bring myself to take it down. I have nothing to replace it with. B doesn't sleep in there anyway and in many ways, it still feels like they share the space. The memories, hopes, dreams, and love of Andrew still cloud the room itself-- at least to me. I feel the presence of them both.
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| First neighborhood walk |
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| Meeting his grandparents! |
My mind is everywhere, but mostly just thankful. B is such an innocent being that has no clue his parents are so totally emotionally screwed up. He doesn't know how hard we have fought to start a family and how sad that makes us. I don't ever want to burden him with that reality, but it almost seems impossible to hide.
In less somber news, I went for a jog for the first time since June and it felt amazing. I also had a Goose Island IPA and felt unable to drive. My love for cooking has not ceased. My love for the husband and a couple little boys is certainly what I've been focusing most of my energy on though.
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| Hi, I'm naked baby. |
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