Worst of the Internet: Public Humilitation Edition

When I first saw the viral video of the father shooting a gun through his daughter's  laptop computer to punish her for writing negative things about him on social media, I was disheartened. Many thought it was wonderful, funny, and clever. Go, Dad! That'll show her! Oh, cool -- a gun! And then there was me: the one who felt uncomfortable watching a grown man to sink to a teen's level of bad behavior. Then this summer we saw the mom who sold her daughter's One Direction tickets online as punishment for making "prank calls like a trollop." Again, this mother was widely praised for this immature gesture. All I saw was slut-shaming, questionable disciplinary tactics, public humiliation, and just downright horrible parenting.

Yes, thanks to smartphone cameras and social media, these people who choose to take the low road in life have an easy way to make it bumpier for their "loved ones." The innernets have made the concept of privacy invasion seemingly foreign. Many of us spend a lot of time worrying about the government spying on us and aren't even giving a moment's thought to the fact that the people we are supposed to trust most and who are supposed to love and support us through good times and bad are the ones with the most access to invade our privacy, to publicly humiliate us, and to create a permanent record of our worst moments for the world to mock.

Last month I saw yet another video, put out there as humor, designed to humiliate a child. In it, a father "lip syncs" the "temper tantrum" of his off-camera 6-year-old daughter while his sons laugh along. Yes, I know that the tantrums of a 6-year-old girl can be overly dramatic and devoid of logic and that plenty of 6-year-olds frequently exhibit such behavior in an attempt to manipulate or attention-grab. It's a fairly normal part of development, yes, and I understand that many of these displays of emotion don't need to be taken very seriously or even acknowledged.

But this video goes a step further -- it's not just dismissing the girl's emotions. It's mocking her and publicly shaming her. The fact that all of her tormentors are male makes it doubly uncomfortable for me to watch. The person who posted this video on YouTube included the light-hearted but all-too-telling-about-society comment "They should play this at her wedding!" Because in this day and age, any bad behavior you exhibit even as a young child will be documented and follow you forever.

Pretty damned scary, if you asked me.

It wasn't long after this video was posted that I became aware of America's healthy marriage poster children, Whitney and James Mongiat of Tennessee, who became famous after James videotaped his 30-year-old bride having a "temper tantrum" over their difference of opinion about Saturday afternoon plans and posted it on YouTube. Whether Whitney's reaction was authentically obnoxious or, as she claimed, provoked, isn't really the issue. The issue is that it's not any of our business. The issue is how a husband could be so awful and disrespectful as to videotape the wife he is supposed to honor and cherish at her worst private moment and then actively work to make her the laughingstock of the Internet. Even if your marriage is in horrible shambles and headed for divorce, this is not a respectful thing to do to any person.

No one among us is so high and mighty that he hasn't laughed at others. I certainly have. But we are also all flawed people who have had bad moments in our lives -- moments that, in the past, caused us plenty of private shame. Moments that are now apparently fodder for public humiliation on the Internet.

I share these examples not to draw more attention to them but to suggest that perhaps we all, as parents, spouses, friends, and world citizens, owe our loved ones a little more respect and understanding than this. They shouldn't be taken advantage of so that we can get a few laughs or re-tweets. It's a line we really shouldn't be crossing but that, because we're a society that doesn't know how to stop itself, we do.

The world is watching, but it doesn't always have to be. Let's think before we hit "record" next time.

Saving them for later

 

It's that time of year: when tomatoes seem to multiply. Or, if you're a Garrison Keillor fan, Tomato Butt season. And while I love fresh tomatoes, I can only eat so many BLTs and caprese salads and almost always let some spoil. But this year I've developed a strategy for using excess charity tomatoes, one that I think will make us happy when winter rolls around: roasted tomato-basil soup that's going in my freezer for a cold day. Seeing whereas I have a Vitamix blender and a basil plant that's been growing on my screen porch, this was super easy to make. And I do love me an easy recipe. Here's how I made the soup:

SEPTEMBER TOMATO-BASIL SOUP

4 lbs. tomatoes, halved horizontally and seeds squeezed out

4-5 T. olive oil
Garlic powder, salt, and black pepper

4 cups water
2 T. minced fresh basil
2 T. sugar

Place tomato halves cut side down on a rimmed baking sheet and pour olive oil over. Season generously with garlic powder, salt, and pepper (or use whole garlic cloves for extra roasty flavor; I just didn't happen to have any on hand). Bake at 400 for about 30 minutes or until tomatoes are mushy and browning on the edges.

Put roasted tomatoes in a stock pot with water and basil. Season with salt and pepper and let simmer over medium heat about 20-30 minutes. Allow to cool to room temperature before pulsing in a blender with 2 T. sugar. Serve warm or transfer to plastic bags to freeze.

 

Here's to soup season being maybe, just maybe, right around the corner.

Labor of love

Our son CJ will gladly tell you how old he is: "Twooooo!" That is, when he isn't lying and saying he's "sixteen" because he wants to drive a car.

When I was a kid, I didn't even know what Labor Day was. Kids don't labor, so it is easy to miss the point. I always associated the holiday with my paternal grandfather's Sept. 2 birthday; he would have been 101 yesterday.

On Labor Day 1995, I met my husband, Ben, at a picnic in George Wyth State Park. I was invited by my friend, John, with whom I edited the public display of immaturity that was the “teen section” of our local newspaper. (I'm sure it is long defunct; what teenager reads a newspaper these days? I'm pretty sure most teenagers didn't read the newspaper in 1995, either.) Ben was wearing mesh wrestling shorts, a tank top, and was seated at a picnic table hugging a cooler of long-necked green glass Mountain Dew bottles. I never actually learned his real name as everyone was calling him “Guns” (not because he was a gun nut but because he had large arms and his last name rhymed with the word). When another mutual friend asked if he could have one of the coveted Mountain Dews, I believe Ben told him no way and called him a $&%*face. Then, he immediately turned to me and offered me a bottle, so I guess I wasn’t a $&%*face. What more evidence did you need that we were a match made in heaven? Ahhh, teenage romance.

Sixteen years later, on Labor Day 2011, I was in the hospital in Des Moines. I had spent the whole weekend knowing how I was going to spend Labor Day: in labor. The doctors had told me the previous Friday that they needed to induce my labor at 37 weeks because of elevated blood pressure, so at 6:26 p.m. that Monday evening, three weeks before his expected arrival, the love story came full circle with the birth of our wonderful son, C.J.

His birthdate is September 5, but because he was born on the holiday we will likely celebrate that day every year for the rest of our lives. So we had a 2nd birthday party yesterday. There was Twinkie cake. Yard games. Balloons that CJ desperately wanted me to remove from the chandelier for him to play with. And after we sang him two verses of "Happy Birthday to You" and he blew out his big "2" candle, he had a humble request: "Again?"

It was a great day to celebrate, and here's to many more Labor Days together with our goofball family!

From the mouths of babes: 22 months

Kids just get more and more hilarious every day, and my ham of a kiddo is certainly no exception. We're just about six weeks shy of age 2 and definitely have a ridiculously entertaining motormouth on our hands. According to stories from my parents, he comes by this honestly. (Ahem.) A few of my favorite 22-month CJ quirks are:

• He loves to swim. You can't get him out of the pool, especially if he can watch the big kids do "wa-wa jumps" (the diving board).
• When reading books with him, you’d have to know the back story to understand most of his comments. His favorite books right now are picture books for learning vocabulary, colors, etc. On the “silver” page of his “Colors” book, it is important to note that we do NOT have a robot downstairs (Downstairs. No.). And by the same token, the double fuel tanker in his “Things That Go” book does NOT have a rock on it.
• After taking a bath, it’s time for “knee,” because CJ puts on his own lotion and his favorite spot to rub in the lotion is on his knee.
• When playing on the backyard playset, it is important to exclaim “birdie poo poo,” because there was once a blob of bird crap on his slide, which is the most hilarious thing that has ever happened.
• He’s big on putting things “back” (BAH-ackkkkk!) After we mulched almost the entire yard, CJ asked us to please put the mulch “back” (in the driveway where it was once piled high).
• I am starting to suspect that CJ’s favorite food is rice (RY! Mmmmm!) merely because he creates such a mess with it on the floor that we have to use the vacuum (Mess! Voom-voom, Mama?) after he eats it.
• Sesame Street is on TV at 9 o’clock in the morning. CJ is well aware of this and likes to announce, usually very loudly, “NINE ELMO!” Needless to say, his favorite number is currently 9.
• Speaking of Elmo, what is it about that little furry red guy? This morning I was running through the list of friends he might see at school. Are you excited to see Colton? No. Lexi? No. Harper? No. Well, whom DO you want to see? Elmo. Touche.

Strawberry Panzanella

I was recently faced with a new predicament: finding ways to use up fresh produce from my garden. You see, we didn't have any fruits or veggies planted at our old home -- partly because I have a bit of a black thumb, and partly because our yard was so shady that there wasn't much I could grow.

But now I'm in my new home, which came complete with raised garden beds, a potting shed, and an antique water pump. I am feeling wholly incompetent at gardening but also blessed with the bounty that was left behind -- especially our current crop of ripe red strawberries, which I literally didn't touch but just came up in June like they're supposed to.

Don't worry, everyone who is gasping in shock at my incompetence: I ordered The Fruit Gardener's Bible and The Vegetable Gardener's Bible from Amazon and plan to spend the winter studying how to not be a total idiot when it comes to gardening.

Meanwhile, I (a strawberry lover) am having trouble coming up with enough uses for our berry crop; my husband recently discovered he's allergic. So when it came time to bring a dish to a Father's Day potluck, I decided to "think strawberry" and whipped up this "salad." (Who doesn't love a "salad" that's actually a dessert? Hello, "Snickers Salad." Amazeballs.) This dish is simple to make, and it was definitely a hit with my strawberry-friendly family members.

STRAWBERRY PANZANELLA SALAD

1 12" baguette (I like South Union), torn or cut into bite-sized pieces
1 to 2 pints of fresh hulled strawberries, cut into bite-sized pieces
4 oz. crumbled goat cheese
olive oil
2 T. balsamic vinegar
3 T. honey

Preheat oven to 350. Toss the torn bread in 3-4 T. olive oil and spread on rimmed baking sheet. Bake appx. 20 minutes or until croutons are almost completely golden brown. Allow croutons to cool completely.

In a small bowl, whisk together appx. 1/4 c. olive oil with the balsamic and honey. In a separate, large bowl, toss together the croutons, strawberries, and goat cheese. Top with dressing. Allow the salad to chill appx. 30 minutes before serving.

Important moments in the day of a toddler

Had to share this fabulous poetry about parenting a toddler from Alice at Denali Parent Coaching. The last item was especially essential for me today as I struggled through the second morning in a row of a separation tantrum while another parent snuck out of the room when his child wasn't looking.

Important moments in the day of a toddler...

• Choice! Between which shirt they want to wear, whether they get carried or hold your hand, if they want the blue cup or the red cup, if they want to finish their book before you change their diaper. The more we can give them choices, and then respect the choice they make, the more we are supporting their growth as self-directed, capable beings. Simple...most of the time:-)
  
• Saying "NO!" And being heard...and respected. Respect can mean going with their NO; respect can mean acknowledging their NO and still moving ahead with what needs to happen--gently, firmly, kindly
  
• Lengthy, uninterrupted time to explore--to practice over and over climbing up and down the stairs, to figure out just how many items can fit in the empty oatmeal container, to dump and fill and dump again, to discover what happens when they try to drink from the end of the hose. What a gift to our toddlers when we can give them the time and space to explore their world in just the way they need!
  
• Eating! The freedom to use their hands, to work with a spoon, to squish and spit and drop on the floor. A time for them to be in charge of their bodies--what they want to put in, what they'd much rather keep out; a time for conversation as we talk about what they are eating, describe what they can do--"You scooped your berries with your spoon!" and respect when they feel done. Totally supportive of their growing independent, in charge of themselves souls
  
• Sleep...quiet time, a time they often seek our laps, our arms, and soak up our one-on-one time reading and singing softly to them. And maybe a time they work hard at preventing--and your gentle, firm, kind presence creates the safe place to be mad and still settle...tear streaked cheeks and all
  
• Diaper changes, baths, care for their bodies--these are amazing times for connection, for learning as you offer choices, talk about what is happening, give the time and space for them to explore the lint in their belly button, to toddle away naked inviting you to a chase game, to figuring out how to squish a wash cloth and use it to clean their toes
  
• Separating from you--a celebration of their growing independence that can be met with pushing you away, alligator tears as you say good bye, or total ignorance of your leaving (to just tantrum when you return!). In order to respect their growing understanding that you will come back, to support their growing confidence that they can be apart from you--we have to say good bye...kindly, gently, and once. No lingering, please, and no sneaking away. Communicating your confidence that they will be safe and content is done by respectfully letting them know you are leaving, giving them their hug and kiss, and then...leaving. Tough at times

These are moments in every toddler's day that we can welcome as the simple yet rich learning experiences they are. Now we can relax into them, be present through out them, and feel certain we are growing a little one who can be confident, capable, curious, in charge--how awesome is that?!

This was shared by the wonderful Janet Lansbury on Facebook via Denali Parent Coaching.

Weelicious Ham & Cheese Muffins

I've always loved to cook, but you probably would never describe my style as "kid friendly." Now that I have a toddler, I am constantly on a quest to find breakfast, lunch, and dinner recipes our whole family will enjoy. I, a total Pinterest loser, even started a 'board' to collect ideas. One of the recipes I decided to try this weekend was Weelicious' ham and cheese muffins, a great breakfast or snack item that can be kept in the freezer and warmed up for an easy weekday breakfast.

Here's the recipe, slightly modified from the original Weelicious version:

HAM & CHEESE MUFFINS

1 1/2 c. all-purpose flour
1 c. whole wheat flour
2 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
1 1/4 c. buttermilk
2 eggs
1/4 c. vegetable oil
2 T. maple syrup
1 T. honey
1 c. shredded or chopped cheese (I used American)
1 c. ham, chopped fine

Preheat oven to 350 and grease two muffin tins. Combine the first five dry ingredients in a bowl and stir to combine. In a separate bowl, whisk the eggs, oil, maple syrup, and honey to combine, then stir in the buttermilk.

Add the wet mix to the dry mix and stir until just combined. Fold in the ham and cheese, then scoop the batter in to muffin cups (filled about 2/3 of the way) and bake 18-20 mins.

So, what's your favorite kid-friendly recipe?

Fears for tears

One of the biggest adjustments I’ve had to make along the parenting journey is the shift from believing my child’s cries always mean there’s something I need to fix to realizing that sometimes his cries are his way of trying to fix himself. Trust me, it’s been a bumpy road. “If your baby isn’t crying, that means all his needs are met” is what the books and websites like to say.  So yes, happy sigh. My child is sleeping/eating/playing peacefully, so I am an awesome mom who very successfully meets her child’s needs for at least 15 to 20 minutes. But it’s also easy to interpret that statement as “if your baby is crying, you’re doing something wrong.” Which is exactly what I did for a long time.

As I’ve mentioned before, I am not a fan of picking a “parenting style” and getting involved in mommy wars and saying that one way of doing things is better than the other. But I have read books and blogs based on different “styles,” so some of that information obviously seeped into my brain as I was reading it. Attachment parenting enthusiasts love to trumpet Dr. William Sears’ “excessive crying causes brain damage” claims that have been widely revealed as a misinterpretation of a scientific study and even prompted the journal Pediatrics to issue a policy statement.

But many parents take The Baby Book and other Sears publications as gospel, and they’re making themselves sick trying to stop every crying episode. It’s pretty preposterous when you think about it, really. Making parents believe that crying is harmful to children is just another scare tactic that makes already nervous parents even more insane.

As I’ve progressed in my comfort with parenting, I’ve paid close attention to the idea that my child is a whole person who isn’t that different from me but who has far fewer options for expressing emotions than I do (cross venting on a blog off the list). He has legitimate feelings and has no other way to express them than through fairly primitive displays. Acknowledging my child’s feelings, relating to them, and, if applicable, trying to offer a solution, helps him process the issue and move on far faster than does telling him “he’s okay” and waving a toy in his face to distract him. What does a child learn about human interaction when an adult sends such confusing signals back when he attempts to express himself? If an adult falls down and hurts himself or is crying over an ended relationship, do other adults rush over to explain to that person that the situation is not worth getting upset and saying, “here, do you want a baseball?"

So while a child may be crying over something that seems silly to you, I have come to believe that it is still important for the child's development to handle the situation respectfully. A child’s universe is more narrow than ours, and he hasn’t had the opportunity to develop the perspective an adult has. A stuffed toy being taken away may have the same gravity for a child as a burglary does for an adult. And how would you feel if you desperately wanted to communicate something but didn’t know how to talk? It could be frustrating to the point of tears.

So yes, a toddler’s crying is annoying and upsetting to adults. It certainly is to me. But by taking a moment to realize that the English translation of my son’s cries is “I am frustrated and need help,” it has become easier for me to communicate with him. And I look forward to the day we can have a conversation, because it’s coming soon.

Mother's Day Brunch

My birthday has always been on or right around Mother's Day, so while it was a special first Mother's Day for my mom in the hospital, she's had to share her day with me ever since. Usually, this sharing came in the form of her cleaning the house, preparing food, and throwing a big party for the family on Mother's Day weekend when she was supposed to be relaxing. Then my brother started dating, and went on to marry, a May 8 baby and the birthday/Mother's Day weekend started turning into birthday/birthday/Mother's Day weekend. But my mom insists that it was never a burden and that it was always a fun weekend for the family to get together and celebrate. It's true: We all had fun. After the Saturday party, the family's men typically got together on Sunday morning and cooked breakfast for everyone. It was great.

Since my parents moved from my childhood home, this tradition has kind of fallen by the wayside. We still celebrate the birthdays (yes, I'm 35 and my mommy still throws me a birthday party), but what to do about Mother's Day is still to be decided. Since we just moved to our new home and I was excited to see just how many people our dining room would accommodate, I volunteered to cook everyone brunch. Yes, I enjoy working in the kitchen. Even on Mother's Day when I am supposed to be relaxing. Apparently it's genetic.

So this morning was great fun -- my aunt and cousin were even here from Illinois. (Another cousin graduated from Iowa State yesterday.) And everyone loved seeing the new house and eating brunch goodies and playing basketball and peek-a-boo with my endlessly fascinated little boy.

I do love moms. There's my mom, who is now an awesome grandma. And my grandmother. And my mother-in-law. In general, moms are the coolest. And they were all here today eating sausage & red pepper strata, ginger sour cream coffee cake, baby carrots, arugula salad, and...oh! I found a great recipe to share with you!

It is a little crazy to try a new recipe for a crowd of 12, but I'm adventurous. Plus, the recipe came from Ina Garten, who can do no wrong. So it was yummy, easy, and a delicious salad/dessert addition to a brunch.

 

FRUIT SALAD WITH LIMONCELLO

7 oz. plain Greek yogurt

1/3 c. good bottled lemon curd
1 T. honey
1/4 tsp. pure vanilla extract
2 c. sliced strawberries
1 c. raspberries
1 c. blueberries
2 T. sugar
3 T. limoncello liqueur
1 banana, sliced
Fresh mint

For the lemon yogurt topping, whisk together the yogurt, lemon curd, honey, and vanilla and set aside at room temperature.

For the fruit salad, carefully toss together the strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, sugar, and limoncello. Allow them to stand at room temperature for about 5 minutes to let the berries maceate with the sugar and liqueur. Gently fold the banana into the mixture and sprinkle with mint.

Serve bowls of fruit with a dollop of lemon yogurt on top.

 

Speaking of dollops, here's a dollop of cute for you -- the one who makes me happy on Mother's Day.

Happy Mother's Day to all!

Screen-free-ish?

So it's Screen-Free Week and I'm obviously not participating since I'm sitting here blogging in the middle of it. I am actually not sure we live in a world where people can go "screen-free" for a whole week anymore, and that makes me sad. But God bless them for trying.

Even though things like work and ordering toddler ankle socks and trying to figure out why in the name of bleepity frick it's snowing in May kinda prevent me from staying off the computer and TV for a week, I do wholeheartedly appreciate the concept of Screen-Free Week. Outside of our bedtime ritual of watching Wheel of Fortune together, I try to keep my son away from television (he only really pays attention when someone buys his favorite letter, E, anyway). But I still watch a lot of Food Network and surf the Web on my computer and am definitely no poster child for a screen-free lifestyle by any stretch of the imagination. (It should, however, probably be noted that without screens I couldn't read beautiful blog posts like this one that makes my day and my life better. Thanks, Andrea Scher.)

Then again, most of what I'd lose by not having a screen is stuff that I never actually needed to know, like that I'm apparently supposed to have major hangups about pooping at the office. And imagine the snow shoveling I could be getting done right now if I wasn't watching a reality show about storage units or re-pinning a recipe for Mountain Dew & Doritos Cupcakes to an inspiration board.

Just today I was in a meeting with a smartphone application developer and, after asking lots of detailed questions about how an app is programmed that may have created the impression I knew what I was talking about, was awkwardly forced to admit I don't actually own one of the things. Yes, I'm weird. Yes, I still have a land line. Yes, I clung geekily to the same Nokia phone for about eight years. (And yes, I am thinking about dropping T-Mobile when my contact expires after learning about that whole forcing a pregnant employee to use her vacation time to pee fiasco. Non-evil wireless provider suggestion, anyone?)

It's just that I think smartphones are kind of rude. They always seem to be given priority 1 by their owners. (And since apparently more people own smartphones than toothbrushes, I guess I should add: 'No offense, almost everyone on Earth?'). There also hasn't been time to publish any thorough, peer-reviewed studies on the effects of staring at those things all the time. My personal study, conducted on the sample of me, found that 1 in 1 people want to vomit after looking at one of those things in the car for more than 90 seconds. And I guess I also just know my limits: I already spend too much time watching TV and being on my computer, so why do I want yet another device that encourages me to do both?

All this being said, I am sure it won't be too long before I am forced to join the masses and own a fancy phone, probably out of some sudden necessity to take a camera phone pic of a gummi bear and apply a filter to it that makes it look like it came out of that 1960 nuclear fallout shelter in Wisconsin. (Sorry, Instagram, I still don't understand you.) But you know, for now I will count my stubborn avoidance of smartphones as my own special way of celebrating Screen-Free (ish) Week.

What are you doing to celebrate?

Getting to know a new house

Well, it's been 2 1/2 weeks now since we moved into our new house. I'm surprised how fast I've made the transition from feeling like I'm in someone else's house to feeling like I'm home. In moves I've made before, I've always found that there's a bit of depression that accompanies the lack of familiarity of new surroundings, so I think it's a good sign that that feeling was pretty short-lived for me this time around.

We've definitely been going a mile a minute since we moved in -- especially my husband, who has had contractors out to the house at least twice a week, has already had the necessary foundation repair done on our garage, and helped me re-paint the dining room over the weekend. We still have quite a bit of work to do to get the place back to the "cover of a magazine" status it enjoyed in 1988 (see above), but we're up to the challenge.

In the meantime, we've discovered the (rare so far this spring) joys of having a big screen porch -- and CJ has discovered the joy of looking for the "rainbows" (he calls them "bome-bos") the leaded glass doors cast on the walls and floors when the morning sun (again, a rare treat of late) streams in.

The entire family has been enjoying the backyard swingset; the bigger, better closets; our proximity to downtown; and our location near some great neighborhood businesses and restaurants. We're still getting used to having radiators in every room and hearing downtown train noises at night, and we haven't quite figured out what our relationship is supposed to be with the black cat who lounges on our back doorstep every morning.

Scary Potty
The other thing we haven't figured out yet is the story behind Scary Potty. Our basement, which is creepy enough already, features a very old, rusted over, elevated, disconnected toilet with the name that was coined by one of our move-in helpers. Scary Potty's reputation precedes it, and we've already had visitors to the house who have specifically asked to see it. (Okay, so they were 8 and 5, but still.) I have to admit that I am also a bit creeped out by Scary Potty. The sink in which we were washing out our paintbrushes is located next to Scary Potty in the basement, and I embarrassed to say I refused to go in there to wash out our brushes the other night. And yes, I realize it's irrational for a grown woman to be scared of an old toilet.

The World's Oldest Ceiling Fan
Okay, so that may be a bit of an exaggeration -- but it turns out our home may have the oldest ceiling fan in Des Moines. The story, as it was told to us, is that the original owner of the home was a fairly wealthy jazz music enthusiast (Louis Armstrong was apparently once a guest in our home) who coveted the ceiling fans that were often found in the Southern homes of his friends. So, he had this beauty brought up from New Orleans since fans weren't available in these parts at the turn of the century. The story may very well be true, because the fan looks very old and rusty; the blades are very short and inefficient; and the fan has only one speed: lightning fast. So I guess we're going to hold on to this piece of history on our screen porch, though we may see if someone can restore it. Have I mentioned I hate ceiling fans?

Cheers to old legends and new adventures. Time to start decorating.

Easter 2013

Hope you had a wonderful Easter. We enjoyed a fantastic celebration at my Mom & Dad's, complete with a birthday celebration and Peeps cake for my dad, CJ's first egg hunt, deviled eggs, pickled red cabbage, college basketball, family kiddie hoop basement basketball, and lots of family fun. Happy April!

Checking in from Chaos Central

Things have gotten a little crazy around here since we decided to put a "For Sale By Owner" sign in our front yard at the start of peak Christmas light touring season. About two months later, our home was sold. About a week after that, we'd made an offer on a new, bigger place in Des Moines. And now, here it is: We're moving the first weekend in April.

I actually don't hate packing and unpacking, but it's easier to say that now when we're still three weeks out and I haven't yet reached that flustered point of finding half a bottle of shampoo, a shoehorn, and a dusty antique pitcher in the back of a cabinet as the moving truck is being loaded.

One thing I'll say: Packing and moving has allowed me to indulge my borderline obsessive love of Rubbermaid containers. After Christmas, I got a whole slew of them on clearance just because they were green with red handles. There was that, and the fact that I already owned eleventy billion of the things. If it's stored in my basement, it must be in one of these containers. And labeled. With a matching label. With a consistent font size and alignment. And maybe some therapy.

Another fun thing about packing is finding stuff -- like, in the attic, this poster of various photos of my husband that was displayed at his high school graduation open house:



And, under some books on a dusty shelf, tickets from two of my favorite events I've attended:

I figure when you move you sort of get two chances to inventory and purge your belongings -- when you pack and when you unpack. Honestly, I haven't spent enough time in our new house to even have an opinion yet about what from my current house will work in the new one. So I've probably thrown some things in boxes that will end up being donated or sold. But at least I'll have some options, right?

As for leaving our current house and neighborhood, I've gone through the sad "yeah but we brought our son home from the hospital here" stage and have started moving into the "Gah, we don't have enough space here" affirmation of why we needed to move stage. But seriously, I'll miss our gingerbread-esque Beaverdale brick and the wonderful amenities of our neighborhood.

An absolutely great house for two people.

Here's hoping this will be the perfect place for three!

And now to un-stick the packing tape from my shoe.

Red Pepper Crab Burgers

Having lived in Iowa my whole life, I pretty much know nothing about cooking with seafood. But I love seafood, so I do the best I can. One recipe I like to make that gives me a briny taste of the ocean is made from ingredients that come from a can and a jar: roasted red pepper crab burgers.

I'm really happy that we now have Whole Foods in our community, because I have been happy to pick up some tasty canned crab meat there. The Heron Point brand has great flavor for these burgers.

 

Here's how you make them:

RED PEPPER CRAB BURGERS

For the dressing:

1/4 c. mayo

2 thinly sliced green onions
2 T. minced jarred roasted red pepper
1 T. fresh lemon juice
1 T. ketchup

1 T. chili sauce

1/4 tsp. finely grated lemon peel

For the burgers:

1 egg

1/4 c. mayo
2 T. fresh lemon juice
1 T. ketchup
1 tsp. chili sauce
1/2 tsp. kosher salt
2 T. minced jarred roasted red pepper
1 thinly sliced green onion
1 lb. crabmeat
1 3/4 c. panko

2 T. butter

2 T. vegetable oil

ciabatta rolls & romaine lettuce leaves

Mix egg, green onion, mayo, lemon juice, ketchup, chili sauce, salt, and roasted red pepper in a medium bowl, then gently mix in crabmeat and 3/4 c. panko. Sprinkle remaining 1 c. panko on a rimmed baking sheet. Form burgers into 1/4 c. patties and press into crumbs to coat. Leave burgers on baking sheet, cover and chill at least 1 hour.

While the burgers chill, make the dressing by mixing all ingredients in a small bowl. Cover and chill until ready to serve.

Heat butter and oil in large skillet over medium-high heat. Saute burgers until brown on both sides. Serve on buttered, grilled open-faced ciabatta buns with a lettuce leaf and dressing spooned over the top.

Mini Apple-Blueberry Crisp

So this week is Valentine's Day -- a holiday of which I never used to be a huge fan but have softened to a bit over the years. (I still think spending $100 on a dozen roses that cost $29.99 the other 364 days of the year is ridiculous, however, and I stand by that statement.)

For a variety of reasons, the husband and I will not be going on any Valentine's Day dates at fancy restaurants this year. But food is one of the handful of ways I know to express love, so I am celebrating the holiday by spending as much time as I can planning at-home meals that I know will put a smile on my man's face. Yesterday I went to the office and worked late, so we ate Papa Murphy's heart-shaped pepperoni pizza. (Hey, it worked. Everyone loves pizza.) Tonight it was baby back pork ribs with barbecue sauce, followed by a tasty dessert inspired by Ben's love for Dutch apple pie.

I made this with honeycrisp apples and blueberries, but lots of fruit combinations would work -- peach and raspberry, pear and blackberry, etc. Whatever you and/or your significant other like!

It's a pretty simple dish and can be prepared ahead of time and stored in the fridge, so yay.

MINI APPLE-BLUEBERRY CRISPS

For the topping:
1 c. all-purpose flour
1/3 c. granulated sugar
1/4 c. light brown sugar
1/2 tsp. coarse kosher salt
1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1 stick unsalted butter, cold, diced

For the fruit:
2-3 honeycrisp apples (or peaches, etc., etc.)
1 1/2 c. blueberries (or any kind of fresh berry)
1/4 c. + 1/2 c. granulated sugar
2 tsp. + 2 tsp. fresh lemon juice
Appx. 2 tsp. grated lemon zest

Cut apples into large bite-sized pieces, discarding core and seeds, and place in a heavy saucepan with 1/4 c. sugar, 2 tsp. lemon juice, and 1/2 c. water. Bring to boil over medium heat; once water begins boiling, cover and cook 2 minutes. Remove apples immediately from heat, drain, and rinse in cold water. (Note: Process is the same for pears. However, if substituting peaches or a softer fruit, simply poach the whole fruit in water for 1-2 minutes, dunk in cold water, and cut into pieces after poaching.)

Transfer apples to bowl and toss with berries, 1/2 c. sugar, 2 tsp. lemon juice, and 2 tsp. lemon zest. Spoon fruit into four ramekins so that ramekins are nearly full but not overflowing.

Meanwhile, put all topping ingredients into a food processor on the dough setting or in a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment. Pulse or mix until the butter is pea-sized and the mixture is just beginning to become doughy but is still crumbly. Cover the top of each ramekin with topping.

Place ramekins on a baking sheet lined with foil or parchment paper. Bake 40 mins. at 400 degrees. Serve with French vanilla ice cream.

Fit to be black tied

I realize that complaining about black tie fundraisers is the ultimate first-world problem, but I'm going to go ahead and do it anyway. And don't get me wrong: I love attending these and they're almost always for a good cause and I almost always have a good time. But seriously: the getting dressed part!

It started over the holidays in Memphis, when my family and friends began giving me crap for skipping the "Liberty Bowl Parade," which I've since only heard described as a hillbilly disaster, so that I could go back to the hotel and paint my toenails for the Liberty Bowl Gala to which I needed to wear open-toed shoes.

The irony, of course, is that I am one of the least girly/primpy types in the world. The fact that I would ever miss anything remotely sports related for anything remotely grooming related is itself a wonder. But indeed toenail painting is just one of the many activities that must be done, because...

• Inappropriate footwear is the first essential ingredient in a female black tie ensemble. Would men walk out in the snow in open-toed shoes? No. Because that would be stupid -- kind of like me shuffling through a snowdrift in strappy sandals last Saturday night. Flat shoes are also inappropriate, so after you regain the feeling in your feet from walking through a snowdrift you can use them to stand on concrete socializing for several hours in pain, trying not to look like a 4-year-old boy who has to pee. 
• You must spend all night carrying random items in a "bag" with no handles. Husband needs to take along his wallet? Sure! Just throw it in this highly practical "evening bag," which is not at all a bag but actually a fabric box that you must shove under your sweaty armpit all night or hold awkwardly in your hand -- sometimes with a mixed drink balanced on it.
• Only the men get to wear a full outfit of clothes. Men don't have to think before getting dressed for a formal event (save the approximate 45 minutes my husband says it takes him to tie a bow tie), and they don't have to be cold because they get to wear pants, socks, and even a jacket. Women are supposed to wear dresses and be cold so that men can give them their jackets. This arrangement would not work in a combat situation. I'm just saying.
• Women have to wear something different to every event, thus requiring shopping. That being said, last Saturday night I literally wore a dress I bought for $8 at a Dillards clearance sale in 1999. Take that, The Man.

I'm pretty sure men rule the world because, while they are networking at events, their wives are having a seat in the corner and rubbing their aching, painted toes.

But hey, you can probably fit a foot massager in your clutch if you try hard enough. 

Teething and other maladies of toddlerhood

Before you have a baby, you know you'll face challenges -- breastfeeding, sleep issues, installing the car seat, and whatnot. No one is prepared for parenthood to be easy -- and sometimes, actually, it's a lot easier than it's made out to be. But then there's one aspect in which I didn't realize life would be so hard: surviving cold and flu season.

You see, our son goes part time to a child care center. It's a wonderful place where he has made wonderful friends and learned wonderful things and eaten some wonderful crackers. I have no complaints. But from November until March, it's also a wonderful incubator of viruses. Due to this fact, our winter usually goes something like this:

1. CJ's nose begins running. It runs like a fountain. And it runs some more. If we're lucky, his nose stops running by Final Four weekend.
2. CJ gets a cough and becomes a little irritable and ultra-sleepy. Maternal instinct kicks in and I start freaking out.
3. We think CJ is feeling better, so we take him somewhere fun in public and announce to our friends and family that this particular cold virus wasn't too bad and that, hey, we're totally calm here and can definitely handle this parenting thing like aces and no, I definitely wasn't freaking out a few days ago.
4. The next day, CJ runs a horribly high fever. I worry again. We give him Advil, the fever comes down, and I assume he'll get better because we don't want to be those parents.
5. Stuff starts running out of CJ's ears. We clean it up and take him to his ear, nose, and throat specialist.
6. CJ is prescribed antibiotics for an infection.
7. CJ starts feeling better but develops some sort of rash from the antibiotics. We buy special cream for the rash.
8. By the time the rash clears up, his nose starts running even more and we start all over again.

What isn't listed is the fact that my husband and I contract some of these viruses for ourselves -- and there have also been a few awesomely weird stomach problems in the mix as well. (Last year I didn't watch a second of the Super Bowl because all three of us were sleeping off one of the worst 24-hour stomach bugs we'd ever had. Frankly, the thought of the Super Bowl still makes me nauseated a year later and I don't even know who performed in the halftime show.)

But sometimes, we have one of those rare healthy days when most of CJ's bodily functions are reasonably normal. So of course that's when he has a horrendous episode of teething.

This weekend we were on a virus upswing, so naturally it was a bit of a teething disaster. The little dude will seem fine one second, but then his cheeks will turn tomato red and he'll start crying. Like, pathetically crying in pain and throwing himself on the floor in misery. This has a horrible effect on me; half the time I start crying, too. He isn't a huge fan of pacifiers or teething accessories, so a lot of times we just have to wait out the episode or let him be creative in resolving it. As a fan of bouncy balls, he definitely found a way to be creative with his teething remedy this evening. And yes, he shared the wealth with his parents. We aren't too cool to walk around the house with smiley face bouncy balls in our mouths, especially if it cheers CJ up.

Heck, it cheered me up and I already have all my teeth.

Poor little guy can't catch a break. I'm not a fan of February, but seeing whereas it gets us another month closer to spring: Bring it on. We're running out of Kleenex.

Banana Cake

So far in 2013, I've been making an effort not to throw away so much food from the refrigerator -- i.e., buy an ingredient for a recipe, only use a certain amount of the ingredient, let the ingredient waste away in the fridge for two or more weeks, and eventually toss it out. Lately, I've been taking a look at what I have and trying to come up with recipes that will use the stuff up, for goodness' sake.

In that spirit, I was looking for a yummy dessert to fix yesterday for our NFC/AFC championship watch pizza party when I stumbled upon the leftover buttermilk from my buttermilk spice cake and some browning bananas. The solution came to me quickly: banana cake. My grandmother's recipe, this is an easy and delicious family favorite. You don't even need a mixer to make it -- just a wooden spoon.

BANANA CAKE

For the cake:
2 large or 3 small bananas, smashed
2 c. flour
1/2 tsp. baking powder
3/4 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 c. shortening
1 1/2 c. sugar
2 eggs
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1/4 c. buttermilk

For the frosting:
8 oz. cream cheese, softened
1/2 stick butter, softened
1 tsp. vanilla
4 c. powdered sugar
Milk

Smash bananas in a small bowl and set aside. In a medium bowl, sift together flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt.

In a large bowl, cream together 1/2 c. shortening and 1 1/2 c. sugar with a wooden spoon. Add eggs, vanilla, and buttermilk and cream thoroughly. Add dry ingredients alternately with bananas and mix well.

Spoon batter into two round cake pans or a 9x13 pan, greased and floured. Bake 30-35 mins. at 350. Cool on rack and frost with cream cheese frosting.

To make frosting, mix cream cheese and butter thoroughly with a wooden spoon, then work in vanilla and powdered sugar. Add a little milk until the frosting is the desired consistency for spreading.

Buttermilk Spice Cake

When I was growing up, my mother was a Junior Leaguer -- something I thought was super awesome. As an adult my Junior League bubble was burst just a little bit when I realized that the chapter with which my mom was involved was way more awesome than most. She lobbied on Capitol Hill and raised tons of money for worthy causes as opposed to just getting together for margarita night and trashy novel discussion (not that there's anything wrong with that). But one of the ways her chapter raised funds was through publishing a number of cookbooks. And to this day, my Junior League cookbooks are some of my favorite sources for recipe ideas -- including a favorite fall/winter go-to recipe: buttermilk spice cake.

While it's not the prettiest cake you'll ever see, it's a great, simple recipe that will please lovers of carrot cake and/or molasses cookies with an extra kick of spice and the smoothness of buttermilk. And it's great with a cup of coffee and maybe some vanilla ice cream.

BUTTERMILK SPICE CAKE

For the cake:
1 3/4 c. flour
1/2 c. sugar
3/4 c. packed brown sugar
1 tsp. baking powder
3/4 tsp. baking soda
1 1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. ground cloves
1 tsp. salt
1 1/4 c. buttermilk
3/4 c. unsalted butter, softened
3 large eggs

For the frosting:
1/2 c. butter
1 c. packed brown sugar
1/4 c. whole milk
3/4 c. sifted confectioners' sugar

To make the cake: Mix the flour, sugar, brown sugar, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, cloves, and salt in a large mixing bowl. Add the buttermilk and butter and beat at medium speed for 2 minutes. Add the eggs and beat an additional 2 minutes.

Spoon the batter into two greased and floured round cake pans. Bake at 350 for 20 minutes. Cool in the pans for 5 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.

To make the frosting: Melt the butter in a heavy saucepan. Add the brown sugar and cook until bubbly. Cook for 1 minute, stirring constantly. Cool slightly and add the milk. Beat until smooth. Add enough confectioners' sugar to make desired consistency and mix well. Spread the frosting between the layers and over the top and sides of the cake.

Holiday recap

Last week was a wonderful one for our family, featuring multiple celebrations, a few too many gifts, and way too many calories -- you know, the usual. Except for that whole having a toddler thing. Christmas certainly wasn't much of an event for 4-month-old CJ last year, so this year was sort of like his first Christmas. At 16 months, he still didn't really understand what was going on -- but he loved the parties, people, and attention. And a few of his gifts got a reaction. (Spoiler alert: One of them is pictured above.)

On Christmas Eve, we visited my husband's family. CJ loves going to his grandparents' house, where they even have a puppy and two kitties. He was chasing a kitty down the hallway when he accidentally found the stashed gift from his great-grandparents. We were all sitting in the other room when we heard the gasp and shriek of delight. Minutes later, out came CJ's grandmother, pulling him behind in a bright red Radio Flyer with all-terrain tires and wood sidewalls. The kid was grinning from ear to ear. Needless to day, this will be a favorite item come springtime. CJ even relented and began paying his grandpa's "toll" of a kiss around the 50th time he circled the living room in his wagon and crossed between the armchairs.

It was wonderful sharing the joys of Christmas with our son, and we know it will continue to get more and more exciting as he grows older.

On Christmas morning, all four of CJ's grandparents and his aunt and uncle came to our house for brunch and gift opening. The stocking from Santa was pretty much a bust, but CJ did enjoy receiving an Iowa State football jersey and, the next day at his maternal grandparents' house, a new plastic scooter to play with when he came to visit.

My extended family's post-Christmas get-together was lively as always, featuring the usual games -- plus some new ones like "Christmas Family Feud" and something I'll just call "pick up candy canes with a candy cane in your mouth" (which CJ found uproariously entertaining and which I, for the record, am terrible at).

After Christmas it was off to Memphis, Tenn., for New Year's Eve and the 2012 AutoZone Liberty Bowl. It was my first time in Memphis (outside of the airport), and it was great to soak in the atmosphere on Beale Street and eat my weight in cole slaw, baked beans, and white bread. Hooray, Memphis barbecue.

Because the actual Liberty Bowl was in no way, shape, or form a highlight (it was raining and my team mustered only nine first downs in a loss), I'd have to say a major highlight was attending the bowl's annual President's Gala. Being located in Memphis, the Liberty Bowl makes musical entertainment a priority each year (well, that and pageant queens...but I digress), and this year they certainly didn't disappoint when they booked The Temptations -- one of my faves and a group that I had the pleasure of seeing in concert with The Four Tops a couple of years ago. Needless to say, dancing at a black tie event to their live performance was quite an experience. It was also great to stay at the historic Peabody Hotel and watch its famous duck march. No, I did not tour Graceland. But I bought a coat at Elvis' clothier if that gives me any Memphis street cred (probably not).

Hope you had a wonderful holiday season!

Happy New Year

Happy 2013 from beautiful freezing ass cold Des Moines, Iowa.

I just read a blog post about the creation of new year's "intentions" -- not resolutions. I liked the sound of that, so I thought that it might be therapeutic to organize the 2013 intentions that have been rattling around in my brain -- now that I'm home from holiday travels and the year in question has arrived.

I do believe the below list reflects the fact that I recently finished reading Gretchen Rubin's "Happier at Home," which I am not sure will change your life but was a worthwhile exercise for me as a person in need of inspiration in this realm. How's that for the world's shortest lukewarm book review?

So, moving on. Here goes:

1. Improve "work-home balance."
Semantics first. I did not say "achieve;" I said "improve." I don't believe there is such a thing as achieving the perfect balance -- especially for working parents. Second of all, I used the term "work-home" balance because I don't believe the term "work-life" balance is fair. In my opinion, you don't stop living when you go to work. But yes, I need this. Whether it means doing some serious evaluation of how and when I work or improving the way I use my time away from work, this is definitely an area in which I need to concentrate in 2013. And probably for the next 20 years as well.

2. Create a more satisfying home environment.
This is another pretty big one, and it could mean (gasp!) moving to a new home -- I'm actually not sure yet, though there is a "for sale by owner" sign in our front yard. I love our house and neighborhood and don't want to move, but if I don't move I probably need to find a way to create or construct more space in our current house. We're running out.

3. Improve fitness.
Major duh on this one. I have known for most of the last year that some of the emotional and physical health issues I've had since giving birth (sixteen months ago, mind you) could be improved or possibly even solved if I took more time to work out. So I promise I will try to get over the guilt associated with doing something for myself and drag my flabby butt to the gym.

4. Eat more whole food.
My wonderful husband bought me a new set of All-Clad cookware and a Vitamix blender for Christmas, so I pretty much (putting aside the whole "I have no time" thing), have no excuse not to cook good stuff. Besides, I love to cook. So game on.

5. Have more fun with my son.
Just last night my husband and I had a lively debate about my personality when he described me as a "serious" person and my initial reaction was to protest. At first blush, I don't really consider that the right adjective: I'm laid back about many things, I am constantly cracking jokes, and I don't typically care too much what others think of me. But I guess there are lots of things I take seriously: I really have trouble getting past comments or actions I consider wrong/offensive/insensitive, and there are a lot of problems in this world that I have trouble "laughing off." And I have to admit I generally take my personal responsibilities seriously -- most notably, parenting. I definitely take it too seriously. Despite the many parenting errors I like to torture myself for making, my kid seems to be turning out fine. So maybe I should just enjoy him and stop worrying.

I intend to, at least.