Jamie my Jo

For each kid I've set up a photoshoot in the few months before they turn five. They're my "Farewell to Babyhood" pictures. I have a set of matching frames that hang together where I can see and remember each child in that precious moment where they hung on the edge between babyhood and childhood. Here's the highlights from Jamie's set this week. I have to choose just three ;) Wish me luck!

Good-bye, House...

In an awesome twist of fate or providence, one year later I return to say that this Florida house, with which I had finally made my peace, is now for sale and we are returning home to the mountains, the black dirt/red clay, the peonies, roses and hostas.  We will leave the yard and tree branches echoing with the laughter and conversation of our tropical family to another homeless wanderer. Perhaps the lingering ghosts of the joy we have found and felt will comfort and delight the next occupants. I know the memories we take with us will occupy a secret melancholy place in our hearts. I will plant red geraniums beside my gladiolus and never forget my Florida home.

The post I've spent a week not publishing because I wanted to find and upload some pictures....

(...aaaand now you see why i never post any more...)

Easter is over. My house and I breathe a conflicted sigh of relief and regret. We have been stretched to the breaking point these last few days-- full of laughter, activity and rich food. We now both rest in silence and remember the joy of the last 24 hours. It is a comfortable, easy silence, but we have not always been in such harmony, this house and I.

When we first met, I was still post-partum, breastfeeding, lonely and homeless. Not house-less, but Homeless. I yearned for my little rose-covered cottage and my cozy Small-town Southern life.

I was dazed from a long progression of low-slung block houses, wrought-iron barred windows, bright green swimming pools (some complete with families of tadpoles) and terra-cotta roof tiles.

The house search had not been kind to me. Nary a white columned front porch, picket fence, or rose arbor had I seen. Second story dormers are scarce in Orlando. Claw-foot tubs and farm sinks even scarcer. The suburbs of this city rose out of the swamps in the 80s when popcorn ceilings, florescent lighting and patterned linoleum reigned supreme.

When I first met this house, I saw not what she was, but what I thought I would make of her.

I saw the magnolia tree, but I saw it ringed with hostas. I saw the live oaks towering over a lush green yard rimmed by flower beds full of gladiolas, tulips, camellias and crocuses-- not fireant hills, aloes, pineapples and palmettos. In my mind's eye, the living room ceiling held rough-hewn beams and cozy-cushioned Adirondack chairs ringed the pool deck.

We bought the house and I waded into the warfare with a will. But I reckoned not with the force of the hundreds of years of being Not Virginia. This house has a mind of her own. She will not be made a cottage. She fought back. Her obdurate tropical foreignness resisting my attempts to re-establish the familiar Southern shabby chic ambiance of my former life, her very soil rejecting my gladiolas, tulips, camellias and crocuses. Here there be no English Tea Gardens. Here grow cacti, hibiscus, bananas and palms.

But today as I sit in my pajamas, recuperating from The Party Of The Year, I suddenly realize that over the last three years, we have reached a tentative peace, this house and I. We have formed a tentative alliance. I have not been allowed roses, but she has given me bright red geraniums.

There are no rough-hewn beams or Adirondack chairs, but she has given me pineapples, gardenias and a water slide and the back yard is strewn with confetti and egg shells, and the live oak branches echo with the laughter of friends and many children.

I do not know if this is the house where J and I will grow old, where our grandchildren will visit us and we will "retire", with the puttering and the sleeping late that we always joke about, but don't really believe will ever happen. But I do think we are no longer Homeless.

It's fine, they said. It's totally warm enough, they said.

The promised granola bar recipes!

Here's a link to the original recipe. I made it just like that the first time and everyone loved it. I objected to how sweet it was, though, so I started playing around with the recipe and here's what I came up with :)

Here's the ingredient list for the original recipe:

2 1/2 cups (230 grams) old fashioned rolled oats

1/2 cup (80 grams) whole almonds, coarsely chopped

1/3 cup (113 grams) honey

1/4 cup (56 grams) unsalted butter, cut into pieces

1/4 cup (50 grams) packed light brown sugar

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

1/2 cup (60 grams) dried cranberries, coarsely chopped

1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons (67 grams) mini chocolate chips

For my first experiment, I simply decreased the amount of sugar and chocolate chips. I would estimate that I used closer to 1/4 c of honey, I didn't pack down the brown sugar and I only used a scant 1/4 choc chips mixed in and didn't sprinkle the extra on top. I also subbed raisins (unsweetened) for the craisins.

The next time I made them, I swapped out unsweetened coconut for the almonds-- same measurements. I toasted it right along with the oats, just like I did with the almonds. I cut out the chocolate chips, subbed dried mixed berries (chopped finely) for the raisins/craisins and kept the same reduced sugar measurements. Deeeelicious!

The NEXT time... I wanted to try using peanut butter to help hold it together so I could reduce the sugar further! ( I am aaaaall about reducing sugar. Annoys the crap outta the kids :)  So. I swapped out a cup of popped amaranth cereal (any puffed grain would probably work-- rice, wheat, quinoa) for the almonds this time, but didn't toast it with the oats. Then when I cooked the butter and sweets (1/4 honey, about two or three tablespoons of brown sugar), I added in about a half to 3/4 c of natural peanut butter and proceeded as usual. No fruit this time. Again-- deeeelicious.

I followed all the assembly and cooking directions of the original recipe and here are a few hints I've learned along the way. The main problem that seems to arise with making granola bars is keeping them in that perfect texture zone-- not too crunchy, not falling apart. So far, I've been lucky.

1) Cooking the butter and sugar makes it a little caramel-y which helps hold it together. I let it boil for about... two minutes? Close to that. Maybe soft ball stage on a candy thermometer?

2) They're not kidding about pressing it HARD into the pan. I finally figured out that my hands worked the best. Once I got it more or less pressed down in with a spoon, I laid a sheet of saran wrap over top and used my hand to be sure it was packed as tight as possible.

3) The thinner I spread it, the more crumbly it was. It really needs to be at least 3/4 inches in thickness (when you're done pressing it down in).

4) Peanut butter works great to keep it sticking together. Too bad I don't love peanut butter.

5) You can use rolled oats OR quick oats :) Yay for versatility!

6) I get an even dozen out of the quantities in the original recipe. We eat that up in about two or three days, but once the novelty wears off, they might last longer...

My favorite one was the coconut and fruit version. Next time I make the peanut butter one, I think I'll sprinkle just a smidge of chocolate chips on the top and press them down in. The kids liked all of them :) I can't wait to try more versions!! The basic recipe is so simple, it should be easy to modify here and there. I plan to try sunflower seeds, various nuts, banana chips and maple syrup subbed in the appropriate places in future.

Enjoy! Let me know how you like it :)




PS. If you've never tried popping your own grains, that's another super-easy healthy breakfast option. Lots of tutorials online. We love amaranth-- a protein rich grain with a nutty flavor. The kids eat it with honey and milk.

I'm entitled.

Re the following on my FB page this morning:

Elisa Forshey 

4 hours ago via Mobile    It's just too danged cold to do anything! And yes, I am already wearing layers.

Let me clarify my status update from earlier this morning... I do not intend to complain about having to experience 30 degree temperatures, per se. I am merely complaining about having to endure 30 degree temps in ORLANDO. I would never presume to claim that the cold I am experiencing here in the tropics is at all compatible or comparable to the cold that you in the foothills of the Appalachians are experiencing. No, indeed.

I would, however, like to point out that you actually LIVE in the foothills of the Appalachians. So your windchill is -8. Yes. I understand. That is much much colder than the 30 degrees of which I am complaining. However, let me again point out, you live in New Jersey/Michigan/Appalachia. You may scoff that I do not really know what Winter IS. You may snicker behind your hand at my reaction to moderate temperatures like a mere 30 degrees-- above zero! But my dear sir or madam, I beg your indulgence, you have no idea what real SUMMER is like. You have never experienced 300% humidity. You have never sweat to near-dehydration IN YOUR POOL. You've never run your air-conditioner in December. You've never gone caroling in a tank-top and flip-flops. When was the last time you had to change your shirt every three hours all day long to stay dry? When was the last time YOUR ELBOWS SWEATED???

So. I merely intended to point out in my Facebook status this morning the massive unfairness of this 30 degrees. All I'm saying is, anyone who has to pre-soak under-arm sweat stains in a sleeveless Christmas blouse should never have to put on more than two layers to stay warm. That's all I'm saying.




PS: This should go without saying, but just in case... I'm not really mad/offended/irritated, or anything. Just goofing around with all you Northerly people.

Advent is full of....

Hope



Love



Art



The mess that art creates



Unnecessary, but cozy fires



Gingerbread Houses



PRESENTS!!!
(from Craigslist!)

The Stories From This Morning

Jamie: But, but... but I saught we was havin' a PAHTY?

Me: We did, sweetie. We had a party last night, remember?

Jamie: But... but... but.. NOOOOOOOOOOO (wails of distress) No, we DINT!

Me: Well, we had food and friends and sparkly drinks, remember? Wasn't that a party?

Jamie: But... but... but Annie and Isaiah wasn't dere! Iss NOT a PARTY wizout my FENS!!! (dissolves into a puddle of heartbreak. I mean, the dude was promised a party, for pete's sake...)

Judah, (while cuddling with Mama and getting his back scratched): Mmmm.... I luuuuuuuuuuve back scratches....

Me: So does your daddy. You need to make sure you marry someone who's really good at back-scratching, too.

Judah: I wish I could jis marry YOU, 'cause you're already good at back scratchin'

Friends, Family and Blog-readers, lend us your ears!!

I come to you, hat in hand, to ask for money. Yes. For money. For the first time in the history of my blog, I am going to use it as a platform to raise money. There's a reason for this. For the first time in the history of this blog I have a really good cause to champion, and an excellent spokeswoman to represent the cause. I give you my daughter, Sofia, and her school's fundraising service project:

Dear family and friends,
I would like to tell you about SALT-- Serving And Learning Together. This is something new our school is doing, where we go out and serve the community. This year, my classmates and I will be going to a local farm and gleaning veggies. In addition to helping the farmer, the food will be going to an organization that will distribute it to homeless people. I would love if you would consider donation $10, $25 or $50 to sponsor my team's work day! The money will go to help my school pay for field trips and more serve-a-thons.  Two years ago our school fundraiser was "Boosterthon". We ran laps around the field to raise money for the school. This year we get to go out and make a difference in our community, instead. You can help, too, by making a contribution to my team through my webpage.
~Sofi

Let me say, by way of parental endorsement, that this program has, in its short life, thoroughly convinced me of its worth. The children are exposed to some of the deep needs of our community in a way that equips them to DEAL with it-- not explain it away, or justify their own non-involvement. I mean, it's one thing for us to tell our kids about the panhandlers under the overpass, and quite another to send them out with their peers and classmates to pick cucumbers to take to the homeless shelters where those men come to be fed. The organizations they worked with last year were impressed by the children's dedication and willingness to serve. Since not all the programs we're partnering with are strictly church-based (although they are all non-profit), it was also an opportunity for our children to show the face, and be the hands and feet of Christ in our city.

My prayer for SALT is that it grows every year and becomes one of the main visuals of our school here- something that people associate Geneva with in an integral way. You can help support Sofi in this toe-dip into ministry by donating. It's not so much about the amount-- just the fact that her family and friends are taking notice and encouraging her in her efforts! She currently has a goal to raise $225 in the next two weeks. Can you help with a gift of $5, $20, or even $50? Every little bit counts!! Click on the link below to join in the project!

Attention Introverts: help me understand my son!

(this started out as an FB post, but I couldn't pare it down enough...)

Judah is an introvert, so I address you for help. Although this may be a Judah problem, not simply an introvert oddity. He is quiet, slow, introspective, prefers intimate interaction to large groups of friends. He enjoys and needs lots of quiet alone time with his thoughts and imagination. I "get" all this. He's like his father and there are many things to love in these expected manifestation of introversion. I have learned that my role in his life is to make sure he still occasionally spends time with other people and learns to reach out of his comfort zone to minister to others.

But there's one aspect to this people-phobic child that I do NOT know how to deal with... He hates change.

Now, hear me out. I'm not talking about your typical child who hates to have his normal routine messed with. I mean, if Judah is coloring and I say it's time to go outside and play, he moans and groans and collapses on the floor in despair. If we're going out to a friend's house for lunch, he nearly has hysterics in the car on the way. Once we're there, he has a lovely time and cries when it's time to leave. It's rest time and he doesn't want to listen to the NEW audiobook. He wants the one he's listened to a hundred times already. If I FORCE him to listen to the new one, he loves it (nine times out of ten) and doesn't want to turn it off when it's time to go swim. Once he's swimming, he can't handle getting out of the pool for a snack. If he's doing math, he HATES language. If he has to stop Language to do Math, he HATES language. If he's playing with playdough, he can't stand the thought of riding his bike or getting out the legos..... Etc.

You see what I mean?

My tactic so far has been to largely ignore all this and go on ahead with my plans, knowing that he'll simply be about 20 min behind me all the way. But I'm starting to wonder if this is something legitimate that I need to consider. Do we simply need LESS variety in our day? Do introverts have a REALLY HARD time switching focus? Is it better to cater to that? Or gradually force him to be able to move from one thing to the next? Should our homeschool look more like one subject per day, instead of 20 min per subject each day?

My Almost-Not-Quite Big Girl

I had to disappoint my girl today... Something she has been long anticipating with much pleasure is not going to work out this year. She has to wait another year. She took it well and very quietly. She trusts us.

I knew she would....

For all her drama-- and I know I complain about it a lot-- she is actually a pretty happy-go-lucky kid. All the bluster and fluster, all the brouhaha is but a surface storm and tempest. Underneath all that she's so mature, so still, so stable. Like her daddy. Her tears and hysterical laughter are momentary and fickle, but my Sofi-Chicken is such a good girl underneath all that.

And herein lies my hurt today. The very silence and calm that commends her response lets me know how deep in the disappointment may lie. I no longer claim to understand every nuance of her moods and thoughts, but I suspect that this one stuck in.

But I know, too, that she'll soldier on and she might throw a fit tonight about something trivial like bedtime, or how she's The Only One Who Can't whatever, but that will be all we'll see of the little girl inside who got her feelings hurt and was soso disappointed this afternoon.

Growing up hurts.

Just Write: Being Mother

I often wonder at the miracle of the existence of my children's bodies in real space and time...

Sofia's graceful, statuesque beauty. Judah's lanky, lean limbs-- all flop and wiggle, but with a growing hint and shadow of muscle and wiry strength. The round-headed, never-still bundle of kinetic energy that is my Jamie. I sometimes find it hard to imagine that all those things were once contained within my own body. The shock of chubby squish-balls of cuteness slowly morphing over the years into real, live people takes my breath away.

As I watch them run, wrestle, dance, dive and explore; I am also made breathless by the Gift of their health. God have mercy, the pain I have heard and seen in the voices and faces of fathers and mothers close to my heart, as their babies struggle and gasp. How is it, Lord, that my children have strength and breathe freely? That their hearts beat in perfect time? Their synapses fire in excellent rhythms and every rounded cheek and limb sings a symphony?

Ah me, I am undone by smile and laugh and scream of righteous indignation. The shoulder blades and sway-backed swaggers stir in me a Sistine Chapel's worth of passion. I delight in the transformation of baby fat into man-muscles, push-ups and cartwheels. The long brown hair, shy smile, and Daddy's blue eyes in her girl-woman face that still has some slight trace of the face I once held in the crook of my arm.

I think I must have somehow become a Mother.








check out the other bloggers just writing with Heather...

The Perfect Suit

After watching this video on the evolution of swimwear and hearing the Jessica Reys call to a return to modest and classy swimsuits, I have spent All. Day. obsessing over suits. Since we moved into a house-with-a-pool two years ago (what?? has it really been that long?), I find that my bathing suits have become a major part of my wardrobe. At least four months out of the year, I wear one almost every single day. And-- since we have kids and all our friends have kids and kids love pools-- I also find that I'm wearing my bathing suit often when we have people over for dinner and play times and etc. So here I am. Stuck in public (often in mixed company) in a bathing suit. Blah. Not my fav.

Add to this the fact that my recent weight loss has left my former Lands End lovelies... let's say less than "supportive" in certain areas.

Well, you get the picture. I'm wear t-shirts over my suit these days. Yuck.

Anyway, after 12 hours of obsessing, I'm pleased to announce that I have found The Perfect Suit. It is classy. It is modest. It is feminine. It is stylish.

It also costs NINETY-NINE DOLLARS.

Yikes.

I am going to be saving my pennies for many moons before I actually have a chance to give a formal REVIEW of the product, but in the meantime, I wanted to share this website with all of you! Because it is just that good. They also sell suits for little girls and modest dresses, tees and camis. I love just about everything I saw on the site!

Now I'm going to have to spend another entire day webcrawling to try to find a pattern just like this so I can go make my own, because obviously now that I've found The Perfect Suit, nothing else will do!

It's too early for this.

It's 8:30 am. 

I have had zero coffee. 

And yet, for some unfathomable reason, my children have decided that this is the optimal time to organize a Family Band. Complete with triangle, tambourine, vocals and a parade aroundandaroundandaround the kitchen/livingroom area. Where I am trying to make breakfast. 

Did I mention I haven't had coffee yet?

The amount of sheer energy bouncing around in my house this morning makes me wonder where these kids came from... What sort of changelings these may be...? Is there somewhere in this universe a Morning Mom, who bounces out of bed every morning, ready and willing to conduct a three-ring-circus, while her three children inexplicably drape themselves over the nearest piece of furniture and beg for coffee and pillow and an eye mask...?

Are they really mine???