Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

Every other Wednesday my oldest has a church activity from 5-6 and then dance from 6:15-7; this means she has to eat whatever leftovers we have in the fridge (or, if all else fails, a deli meat sandwich) for dinner at 4:30.  Which means, of course, I’m down a good eater for dinner–AND I have to start dinner knowing I have to leave the house to take her just before five, and then be done eating in time to take her from one to the other.  (My hubby then picks her up while I bathe the boy.)  You can probably appreciate the need for an easy meal on these nights, right?  (If you can’t, well, I can’t imagine why you’re interested in this blog.)

Anyway, tonight’s pick was these Apple Pie Pancakes with Vanilla Maple Syrup, which I enjoyed–but which also need some tweaking.  I did love the flavor, although I messed with the spices a bit (I’m just all about more nutmeg flavor, and so I lessened the cinnamon and cloves some to make up for it).  I doubled it but stuck with one (large) apple (out of pure laziness, to be honest with you, but they were apple-y enough, overall), and I used half whole wheat flour because this is the Pregnancy of Craving Fiber!  These are predictable changes for me, however, and I wouldn’t say they NEEDED tweaking if these were the only things I wanted to change.  What needs to change next time, however, is the leavening.  I admit to using 1% milk instead of whole, but that shouldn’t have made the batter all that thin; I’m thinking the recipe really wants buttermilk instead (at least partly), but to do that it possibly needs some baking soda instead of all baking powder, and I need to research how to change the proportions properly.  (And yes, I am aware that altitude may be a major factor here, since the blogger lives in San Diego.)  In the meantime, the flavor truly was lovely.  If any of you know how to make them a bit fluffier without messing with that, please share!

I must be imagining things.  The very year I will be having a baby 8 days after the Newberys are announced is the year that the Medal winner and one Honor book are verse novels; the other Honor book, unbelievably, is a graphic novel.  I couldn’t ask for a more manageable list, but I confess–I’m not entirely comfortable with a Newbery year where no books of a traditional format actually win.  I love verse novels, mind you–love them–but I can’t help wondering why on EARTH they couldn’t find one or two regular novels as well.  Many years see four or five Honor books, and you can’t tell me no worthy contenders came out last year.  I wish I’d been a fly on the wall during the decision-making process.

Anyway, for inquiring minds, here are the ALA Youth Media Award Winners for 2015:

http://www.prnewswire.com/news-releases/american-library-association-announces-2015-youth-media-award-winners-300028995.html

I want to read plenty more than just the Newberys, but I’m  trying to be realistic about what life will be like in the next few months…

Yeah, yeah, like anyone reading this blog really thought of me as being into football.  I am from New England, though, so I’m being sincere when I say ‘Go Pats!’  I always cheer for my home teams–if by cheer you  mean that I’m happy when I hear that they’ve won, but I don’t always care enough about the sports themselves to know much more than that.  (By the way, this is slightly off topic, but I was amused to see my high school prom date’s FB status:  “Let’s show Starbucks drinkers what Dunkin Donuts can do!”)  In all fairness, I did watch as much as I could of the last few minutes of the game, since it was a bit of a nail-biter.  (I was putting the girlies to bed during the interception, though.)

Nevertheless, I’ve been looking forward to this weekend for weeks, and the reason why has nothing to do with the Super Bowl.  The ALA Midwinter Meeting has been going on all weekend, and tomorrow morning they will announce their Youth Media Awards.  (The press conference is from 8-9 in Chicago, which means I may catch snatches while getting the kids ready for school.  We’ll see how that goes.)  I’d like to thank the Salt Lake County Library system, by the way, for upping the number of hold slots allowed per library card–I should have enough spots to put all of the new Newberys on hold this year.  (Many of the other Award categories tempt me as well, but I will try to be realistic about all of the things that are NOT going to happen in the next month or so!)

There you have it, folks.  Be a fellow geek and watch the broadcast online.  (Let’s just hope I don’t randomly go into labor between now and then; I never have before, but I sure am contracting, and there’s a first time for everything…)

I finished Saving Lucas Biggs the other night–staying up WAY too late to do it, I might add–and I have to say, I really did love it.  And yes, I checked it out of the library precisely BECAUSE it looked good, but it was better than I’d hoped for all the way through, and how often does that really happen?  I was a bit worried at first about some of the subject matter–some things are hard for me to read about pregnant–but it did such a good job of moving along that I was okay with it.  Not that it was constant crazy action, mind you, but it was always moving forward with purpose. If that makes sense.

The basic plot  revolves around thirteen-year-old Margaret, whose father has been framed for, convicted of, and sentenced to death for a crime he didn’t commit.  In a desperate attempt to save him, she uses her family’s “quirk”–the ability to travel through time–to try to change history back in 1938.   To tell you more seems unfair, really; one of my favorite parts of the book was its ability to go places I wasn’t actually expecting.  After all, who doesn’t love an unpredictable but entirely satisfying ending?  You’ll just have to read this one yourself.  It’s poignant, original, and says amazing things about friendship and love, so I promise you–it’s worth it.

This is what happens when you’re 8 1/2 months pregnant, right?  Anyway.  Remember the Apple Pumpkin Gingerbread Muffins from the other day?  I opened up a big can of pumpkin for those, and since that left me with more than half a can, and we had soup last night, I went looking for a recipe for pumpkin bread that would use up a bunch of it (because who doesn’t love bread and soup as a meal?).  When I found this Healthy and Delicious Pumpkin Bread, I decided it was the winner–it made two loaves, which was perfect (I wanted an extra loaf to give to a friend), and I had all of the ingredients.  I even mostly followed the recipe!  I made the applesauce substitution she suggested, and I went with a little less than half whole wheat flour instead of just a third; I also went heaping on the nutmeg measurement (I’m nuts for nutmeg!) and used regular vanilla yogurt instead of Greek (it’s what I had).  I did have to extend the cooking time, which wasn’t surprising to me.  I know my oven is somewhat slow and using glass pans exacerbates that, but 50 minutes still seems unlikely.  Mine took more like an hour.

It was an hour, however, that was well-spent.  Everyone was happy to eat it, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.  The pumpkin flavor was milder, which (as I’ve said before) is what I prefer, and it was moist and tender.  It crumbled a little when cut, but that may well have been that it got into the oven on the late side and was still warm (the slightly melt-y quality that warmth gave the butter MORE than made up for the crumbliness).  Bottom line? We’ll be making this recipe again.

It’s true that a more-savory-than-our-usual-recipe cornbread was possibly not the best choice for breakfast on Saturday, but since we’d had sweeter muffins for dinner the night before, I opted to try this Creamed Corn Cornbread anyway.

We were underwhelmed.

To be fair, my picky middle mentioned several times that something smelled “really good,” and she claimed to like it initially.  My oldest, however, is the one who usually likes new recipes, and she was unimpressed from the first bite.  (My son, to be fair, did eat most of it without prodding.  One can’t really expect a two-year-old to do that again with the same recipe, though.)  And my middle stopped liking it about 2/3 of the way through.  (I may have made a tactical error in pointing out that it had actual corn in it, but I don’t think that was all of her problem.)  As for me, well, I probably need to accept that I don’t love the texture of actual corn in my cornbread.  I love cornmeal, you understand–love the grittier feel it brings to bread–but the creamed corn…nah.  Not for me.  Add to that the fact that there was less sugar (I do like sweeter cornbread) and the cooking method browned it more than I prefer, and well–shoot.  It’s probably not the recipe’s fault, but this is not the sort of cornbread that is going to work for our family.

And that’s saying something, folks, because she’s my pickiest.  I opted for breakfast for dinner tonight because, well, it’s what sounded good, and my energy level isn’t exactly impressive at the moment.  I picked two recipes and gave my girlies the choice; I didn’t ask the boy, since he’s guilty of choosing something and then not eating it on an almost daily basis.  They voted for these Apple Pumpkin Gingerbread Muffins, and let me tell you, they were lovely.

I didn’t actually change them up much, either.  I subbed maybe 3/4 cup of whole wheat flour instead of using all white; since it gave you a range on the amount of chopped apple, and I had barely over two cups when I’d peeled and chopped one old tiny one and one big Costco one, I stopped there.  (I probably would have been happy with more, but I was feeling lazy and I’d met the minimum.)  I opted to use up the last of my dark brown sugar instead of using light, but that was a ‘it’s drying out, there’s not much left, and it fits the flavor profile’ kind of decision.  And I put sugar on top of some and not others as a ‘is it worth the extra sugar?’ kind of experiment.  (Oh, and I used salted butter.  Because I didn’t care and I haven’t found that it matters.)

Okay, that sounds like more changes than it felt like, but I promise you, they weren’t significant.  And the muffins were tasty.  I could have chopped the apples into smaller pieces, but they were still good the way they were.  I enjoyed them so much partly because the pumpkin was mild–I want to like the taste of pumpkin better than I do, really–and partly because there was a nice mix of spices.  I love cinnamon and nutmeg and cloves, and I’m okay with smaller amounts of ginger and allspice.  (I don’t particularly care for strong ginger flavor; I’m fine with allspice, but it seems like such a weak and vague sort of spice to me.  Really, I’m just nuts for nutmeg.)  These proportions were perfect.  My friend Britt pointed out that she’s not in the mood for pumpkin anymore–the time has come and gone–and my friend Andrea would likely agree, but the New Englander in me is up for fall flavors pretty much all the time.  (And like I said, the pumpkin was mild.)

In summation–because that’s a fun phrase to use now and then–I liked these muffins better than several other recipes of a similar type that I’ve tried.  They’re worth making.

If you’re in the mood, that is.

I’m pretty sure I’ve talked about Amy Krouse Rosenthal’s picture books before, but I really had to give a shout-out to Uni the Unicorn as well.  Uni, you see (OH, the alliteration!), is a perfectly normal unicorn, except for just one thing.

She truly believes that little girls are real.

Have I mentioned how much I love Rosenthal’s way of changing up a familiar theme?  It’s the same technique she used in Little Pea, Little Hoot, and Little Oink, really, but Uni the Unicorn looks completely different.  The art has a medieval feel to it–at least for me–which is in fairly stark contrast to the style of the other titles.  And whereas the other titles certainly ought to appeal to both genders (although now that I have a son and he is SO COMPLETELY OBSESSED with all things wheeled, I’m not quite as confident about that), this one is all for girls.  I wasn’t a particularly girly girl myself, you understand, but I have two of them, and I’m about to have three, and I can still appreciate the book’s appeal.  I don’t know that 4-8 is quite the right age range for this one–I think my 8-year-old liked it fine but wasn’t ecstatic–but my five-year-old has certainly enjoyed it.  If you’ve got a girly, unicorn-loving 3-6 year old, consider this one a must-read.

When I was little, I remember my parents being loyal Pizza Hut fans.  Every once in a while we would go as a family; what I remember is sipping root beer for what seemed like FOREVER, waiting for our pizza to be done.  When I got older, they discovered a place in Connecticut called (if I’m remembering correctly) ‘Ye Olde Kikapoo Pizza.’  My mother especially loved it; I just remember that yes, they were extremely generous with the toppings, but that wasn’t exactly a plus if you didn’t like them.  (Keep in mind, as a child I disliked onions, mushrooms, pepperoni, and green peppers.  I’ve made my peace with onions and mushrooms (cooked), and I’ll willingly eat pepperoni if there are no other choices, but bell peppers and I will never mix happily.)  It wasn’t horrible, but it was an occasional outing that my parents loved that I, well, didn’t.  (I didn’t hate it.  I just shrugged and went along, generally.)  And so pizza went–until college.

In college I discovered the beauty of Pizza Pipeline, a place in Provo that delivered for free until 1 am.  The pizza wasn’t bad–I probably did prefer it–but what really got me were the Tricky Stix.  The garlic and Parmesan variety were lovely in and of themselves, but the sweet cinnamon ones? Real cream cheese frosting to dip in, baby.  My roommates and I became definite fans of the place, and my husband and I had been married for years before our free plastic Pizza Pipeline cups–we had multiple designs–stopped being our by-the-bed water cups.  Up until a couple of years ago, nothing had really replaced the Pizza Pipeline in my heart.

Until Domino’s.

Yes, I know what you’re thinking.  Didn’t they build a whole ad campaign around the concept of “hey, we changed our recipe, our pizza’s good now?”  I believe they did, although I can’t fully trust my memory for anything right now.  I don’t care.  It doesn’t matter.  Because it’s not about the pizza.

Oh, don’t get me wrong.  I sort of like the garlic butter stuff they brush on the outside of the crust.  If I disliked the pizza, it’d be one thing.  It’s not about the pizza, though.  Because friends–Romans–Countrymen?  Have you TRIED the chocolate lava crunch cakes?

If you haven’t, this is serious.  Get thee to a Domino’s–posthaste–and order a box of two.  The crunchy, rich loveliness of the outside mixes with the warm, gooey chocolate center in a way that makes me sigh every time.  They are divine.  They are beautiful.  They are a hundred times better, in my humble opinion, than a piece of pizza could ever be.

And so that’s it, folks.  I guess what it comes down to is that I’m not an avid enough pizza aficionado.  I like it, and I definitely like the ease of ordering it on a certain kind of night, but it’s the extras that sell it for me.  We had chocolate lava crunch cakes with our pizza on Friday.

But dang it all, now I want some Tricky Stix.

Warning:  Opinionated Post

I was catching up on Facebook the other day and saw this article someone had shared, called 5 Reasons to Choose a Midwife.  I didn’t actually click on it initially–I knew I wasn’t going to agree with it, so why bother?–but curiosity got to me.  And so I clicked on it, and read it, and as I sorted out my response to it, I debated whether it was worth going there on this blog.  After all, I doubt my opinion is going to change anyone’s mind, and I truly do believe that moms (and dads) have the right to choose how to parent, right from day one, without me criticizing them for it.  I get to make my own decisions.  As an adult, I ought to respect theirs.

Here’s the thing, though.  First of all, as I’ve said before, it’s my blog.  I get to be opinionated when I want to be, and sometimes, I confess, I really, really want to be.  Secondly, I believe one can respect other people’s decisions (and in so doing NOT give advice where advice is not requested or desired) while not agreeing with them.  It’s not wrong to have an opinion about what someone else is doing (and frankly, for me it’s often impossible).  What’s wrong is to judge them, because it is not my job to judge.  (It may be my job to use my opinions of other people’s actions to help me plan out my own course, but that’s an entirely different thing.  And no, “them” and “someone” do not grammatically agree, and it’s incorrect, but it sounds so stilted to be correct.  I was over it tonight.)

On that note, here’s my problem with Jessica Mason’s article.  It’s one thing to present an alternative course of action as a positive experience–there’s nothing wrong with that.  And if she grew up feeling that hospital births = pain and unpleasantness, well, okay.  It’s another thing entirely, however, to paint that alternative course of action as comfy and cozy and wonderful because of the differences between it and the traditional option.  And it’s quite a different thing to ignore history altogether.  Here are my thoughts for someone who read Mason’s article and is considering making the same choice.

1)It’s totally up to you.  I get that.  You may even have a lovely experience, I don’t know.  But for someone who hasn’t yet experienced childbirth to paint it as “joyful, spiritual, and natural” is a bit of a crock.  You may find it spiritual and empowering; you may not.  What I can tell you from experience is that it is messy (and can be VERY messy) and it IS painful.  I had an epidural with my first, but the contractions certainly hurt before it took effect.  Childbirth is painful.  “Natural” childbirth–here meaning “drug-free”–is going to be painful.  Nothing a midwife can do is going to erase that.  (And by the way, I agree with Mason about not opting for a home delivery.  I bled so much I could feel my legs splashing in it. That’s not something I want in my home, and that’s certainly a possibility for more people than just me.)  Childbirth is also tiring, and in my case, the exhaustion numbed the joy.  (It occurred to me later that the blood loss would have exacerbated the exhaustion.)

2)Your birth experience can’t be controlled by a birth plan, or choosing a midwife, or choosing a hospital (for that matter).  In my case, I have narrow pelvic (pubic?) bones that force my babies out at an unfortunate angle–unfortunate meaning I tear.  (Badly.)  When my doctor mentioned that he was on the fence about recommending a c-section for my second because of that, I felt actual peace about having a second child for the first time since my first was born.  (He also told me that research is showing that those muscles, if they tear that badly a second time, don’t completely recover.  In that case, you may be–and I quote–incontinent with stool for the rest of your life.  This is not something pleasant to hear in your twenties.)  Once cannot control a baby that insists on being breech.  One cannot control any one of a thousand possibilities that make the resources of a hospital important.  My husband has always been impressed at how little my doctor pays attention to our babies once they are out.  The nurses are there for the baby, and they take full and complete care of her (or him); my doctor is there for me and focuses on stitching me up well.  (My only vaginal birth involved an hour’s worth of stitches, by the way.  My c-sections have required fewer, and I feel SO MUCH BETTER after them than I did after the other.)

3)How do you note that midwives were “driven out of practice” in the early 20th century without admitting that childbirth was, I believe, THE LEADING CAUSE OF DEATH FOR WOMEN UNTIL ABOUT THEN?  (I couldn’t find a date for when that shifted; if someone knows for sure, please enlighten me.)  Giving birth was the MOST DANGEROUS thing a woman could do for centuries upon centuries.  And midwives have been around about that long, yes?  I’m certainly not blaming midwives, you understand; I don’t doubt that they did the best they could with the knowledge they had.  I’m well aware that the influenza pandemic and WWI combined helped get the medical knowledge ball rolling, and I imagine that that made the difference.  My problem is with the tone of the article; it implies that hospitals and doctors made something scary out of childbirth.  Friend, it’s always been scary.  It’s a whole lot less scary now.

And there you have it–my opinionated post for the month.  If you want the experience and environment Mason mentions, that’s your decision. The line between that and how she describes the hospital, however, is likely a lot finer than she realizes.