Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

There are amazing women in my life, amazing women that have mothered me in countless different ways.  I am grateful for them–grateful beyond words.

I am also, however, a mother of children who were up in the night, and I honestly haven’t the mental focus to say more than that.

Happy Mothers Day!

I was looking for breakfast bread options the other day and came across these Oatmeal Blueberry Applesauce Muffins.  I rather think I’ve made them once before and we were on the fence about them, so I opted to change up the recipe a bit and see what happened.

My major change?  Well, a) most of my family doesn’t love blueberries, and b) guess what we didn’t actually have, anyway?  Frozen strawberries we had, however, and so I diced up about the right amount of those and then threw in a mashed banana to balance out the sweetness, add some more fruit, and make a small inroad on the mountain of bananas currently residing in my freezer.  I used regular yogurt instead of Greek, since it’s what I keep on hand, and then I loaded them into a muffin tin and got the surprise of my life–well, at least my day.  I’d already groused on the phone to my sister about recipes that lie and say they’ll make 12 muffins when the amount of flour/oats clearly indicates more; I owe that blogger an apology, however, because the batter filled 12 muffin cups nicely, and it baked just as nicely into 12 average-sized muffins.  (I did fill each cup about to the top, because it wasn’t the sort of batter that was going to rise all that much.)  I quite liked them, as did several of my children, which means they’ll likely be happening again.  (Freezing them for summer breakfast or lunch options seriously appeals.)  Next time you’re wanting to aim for something a bit healthier, give them a try!

Okay, it’s been too hot for soup, but if I don’t record the changes I made to this Chipotle Chicken and Corn Chowder, I’m going to forget what I did completely.  (And that would be a shame, because I really enjoyed it with the changes.)

First off, you have to understand that I like smoky, and I like corn chowder, and chicken and potatoes thrown into the mix is fine with me, but I don’t like peppers.  (Sorry, Mom.  I don’t care for peppers.)  Aspects of this recipe really appealed, however, and so I consulted my friend Andrea about the best way to alter it for my heat-sensitive family.  (We’re wimps–at least, most of us are.  And we’re okay with that.)

So.  Red bell pepper was never going to happen in my kitchen voluntarily, but onion seemed like a perfectly reasonable substitute.  (After all, they’re both aromatics, and who makes soup without onions, anyway?)  I didn’t have poblanos, and Andrea warned me that you can get the occasional hotter one, so I used 2 4-oz cans of (mild!) diced green chilies instead.  As for the chipotle chilies in adobo sauce, I simply didn’t double that amount when doubling everything else.  I could have used a bit more smokiness AND tolerated a bit more heat myself, but my 8-year-old had trouble with it as it was, so it worked out.  (Maybe a touch of smoked paprika next time–when I saute the onion?)  That basically covers my changes–I don’t consider using 1% milk instead of whole a major change in soup, although I may have used a can of evaporated milk as part of it as well–and several of us really enjoyed it.  (A warning, though–when you double it, it makes a LOT.)  It’s even likely to happen again at some point, despite the detractors.  We’ll see what happens in the fall!

I really did!  I knew I was going to be gone from Wednesday night to Saturday morning, and I knew I’d be coming home to a busy weekend, and I kept meaning to do a ‘taking a quick break’ kind of post, but other things seemed to pop up every time I tried to do it.  I’m truly sorry!

The thing is, I’m still fairly exhausted from ALL THE THINGS, and so this is going to be brief.  Are you ever in the mood to read something completely, utterly, and in all ways bizarrely funny?  If you are, you need to try Caleb Krisp’s Ivy Pocket series.  Ivy is a maid with all the natural instincts of any kind of expert, anywhere–at least, to herself.  (What her employers, acquaintances, and readers think of her is best left to discover.)  There is fantasy involved here that I didn’t expect–an object of power, mysterious characters with strange powers–but also a sort of eye-popping humor that’s a little bit hard to describe.  I skimmed the series before handing it over to my 11-year-old, and I’m still shaking my head at times about just how odd (but entertaining!) it was.  Start with Anyone But Ivy Pocket and move on through the trilogy; I promise you an unforgettable ride!

My second girlie has been practicing her dance to that very song–from “Anastasia”–while I’ve been reading a book about Russia before and during WWI.  Perfect timing, right?  And Gloria Whelan’s Angel on the Square is narrated by a girl whose mother was lady-in-waiting to the Empress and who therefore lived with, learned with, and played with Anastasia (nicknamed “Stana”) for years.  I’m quite sure Katya and her mother are fictional, of course, but the main events from history are all there–the war, Alexei’s hemophilia, the Bolsheviks, and the sad end of the  Romanov family.  (I thought the book might avoid the actual executions entirely, but no, they’re there.  An event spoken of rather than described, but they’re there.)

I actually checked this one out for my oldest; she read Listening for Lions in school last year and wanted something else by the same author.  I didn’t remember Whelan’s historical fiction as being masterful, but I still love the genre, so I’ve been hoarding it so I could read it first.  And, no, it’s not quite masterful, but it is compulsively readable.  It’s not the sort of book that’s full to the brim of meticulously researched details and tidbits about the time period and subject, but it’s going to have rather a broad appeal to young readers.  If your child has a passion for history, there are probably better books on the topic to be found, but if you’re looking for a fast-paced, engaging historical read written with the average middle grader in mind, don’t miss Gloria Whelan.

It feels like it’s been a long weekend, folks, so I’m being totally lazy and telling anyone with elementary-age kids to find a copy of Kate Pankhurst’s Fantastically Great Women Who Changed The World.  It’s totally worth your time–I learned things I didn’t know and both of my older girlies read and enjoyed it (I’d give it to my son to read if he weren’t in kindergarten and not quite up to the challenge yet).  Pankhurst’s illustrations are fun and her subjects varied, so there ought to be something for everyone.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go fill out a “suggest a purchase” form on my library website so that I can (hopefully!) read Pankhurst’s Fantastically Great Women Who Made History…

I can’t write about soup tonight, folks.  My heart is too full.  (Also, it’s way too hot in my house to even think about it.)  One of my 15-year-old nephews is in the hospital tonight.  He had surgery last night, for severe osteomyelitis, and he’s looking at more tomorrow morning, because osteomyelitis is the kind of serious infection that you just don’t envision a healthy, active 15-year-old having to face.  Family and friends all over the country and more–quite literally from coast to coast, AND in Canada–have been praying for him.  Those prayers are coming from people of different faiths, in different circumstances, and from different backgrounds, and every time I sent another prayer up today–as I was buying milk at Costco, taking my girls to piano lessons, reading to my children, and thinking of my nephew–I could feel that love and faith as a tangible thing.  I texted one of my neighbors from the store today to ask her to pray for him without telling her kids quite how serious it was, and her response was almost immediate.

“Absolutely.  Praying now.”

It was then that I cried.  These are fabulous neighbors, but we both have kids and our conversations are often short and take place across our yards, and yet there was no hesitation there.  It didn’t matter that our faiths are different, or that she’s likely never met my nephew.  I asked her to pray, and pray she did.  What more could you ask of a neighbor?

Okay, okay, so I’m pretty sure the quote actually specifies mashed potatoes, but still.  Who doesn’t love a good “While You Were Sleeping” reference?  And really, who’s not going to love these Parmesan Baked Potatoes?  They’re plenty forgiving–I melted the butter in the pan in the preheating oven, I did a bit extra of the butter and Parmesan and used a 10 by 15 pan, and I didn’t even bother weighing the potatoes, because just filling up the pan with potato halves seemed way easier.  And they really were creamy!  I’m honestly not sure how that works, but I’m not going to question it.  I’d rather just make the recipe again and call it good.

Seriously.  Try these.  They’re tasty and moist and require no condiments to be on the table--and that’s a win in my book.

I was googling other titles by Russell Freedman when the tense used in the author description caught my eye; apparently, I was so distracted by life last month that I missed the fact that he passed away.  Granted, the man was 88 and had suffered a series of strokes, but now he’s gone.   Which means that the number of his books I have yet to read is going to dwindle down to zero, and THAT is a sad thing, indeed.  For those of you who don’t follow the intermediate and youth literature scene, Freedman has been writing well-researched, approachably readable, and impressively interesting nonfiction for the 8-12-ish crowd for decades.  He’s got one Newbery Medal and three Newbery Honor books to his credit, not to mention a slew of Golden Kite awards and too many others to try and list, and the honors are well deserved.  Tonight I finished reading Out of Darkness:  The Story of Louis Braille to my two older girlies, and they were riveted, albeit for slightly different reasons.  (My oldest wanted to know why Braille was a better system than embossed letters and all the relevant details; her sister was heartbroken over the circumstances of the accident that took Braille’s sight.  Both perfect expressions of their personalities!)

So was I.

From how Braille lost his sight and how he dealt with it to the hows and whys of the evolution of his method of reading and writing for the blind, Out of Darkness was a fascinating story of an incredible young man.  (Braille was hard at work experimenting with what became his life’s work in his mid-teens; he died in his mid-40s of TB.)  I can’t really think of anyone for whom this wouldn’t be a worthwhile read, so I’m just going to recommend it to, well, everyone.  Go find it–go read it!  And–thank you, Russell Freedman, for telling important stories in a way that young readers can enjoy.  We will miss you!

By the way, I absolutely meant to post a recipe on Saturday, but the evening got away from me.  My apologies–it’s coming!

We’re not going to talk about how long I’ve had Jennifer Nielsen’s A Night Divided checked out of the library.  It’s always sounded good–hence the constant renewing and re-checking-out–but only recently has my willingness to tackle books over 300 pages coincided with my being in the mood for an ‘escape from East Germany’ sort of story.  Once I started it, however, it sucked me right in.  Gerta’s father wants to leave East Berlin for West Germany and freedom; he and one of his sons go on a brief trip to look for an apartment and possible employment in August of 1961.

The Berlin Wall is erected before they can return.

Gerta, her mother, and her other brother are left in East Berlin, where their lack of freedom becomes intolerable to the young people.  When Gerta catches sight of her father on a platform on the other side of the wall, watching her and pretending to dig, she convinces her brother that tunneling under the wall is the only way to reunite their family.  Digging the tunnel while remaining undetected by the border police and the government, however, is an almost impossible task.  Nielsen does an incredibly job of portraying the strain, the hard work, and the danger involved; be prepared for a fair amount of reading-on-the-edge-of-your-seat.   Some aspects of the plot seem less likely than others, but overall, this is a compelling story with an extremely likable narrator.  I’m thinking middle school and up is the target audience here, but latter elementary students to whom the plot appeals should do just as well.  (And, hey, adults.  Because I certainly enjoyed it.)  Bottom line?  This is a fictional chance to experience relatively recent history (the Wall came down when I was 10).  Don’t miss it!