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.

Mac attack

December Death Storm is apparently headed our way tomorrow, so I recommend we all start eating heavily. Nothing says "snowed in" quite like a hot, hearty, and not-too-healthy meal; when it comes to comfort food, I happen to love my recipe for macaroni and cheese. It's decadent and delicious. Because if you're going to eat macaroni and cheese for dinner, you might as well go all out. And when I say "all out," I'm talking bacon here.

MAC AND CHEESE WITH PANCETTA

5 T. butter, divided
4 oz. thinly sliced good pancetta (I like Iowa's own La Quercia), torn/chopped
1/2 a yellow onion, finely chopped
1 garlic clove, minced
1/2 tsp. crushed red pepper flakes
1/4 c. all-purpose flour
3 1/2 c. whole milk
1 1/2 c. shredded cheddar cheese
1 c. grated parmesan/romano cheese
1 c. Velveeta
8 oz. marscapone
1 c. Italian bread crumbs
1/4 c. chopped Italian flat leaf parsley
1 lb. elbow macaroni

Melt 1/2 T. butter in a medium skillet over mid-high heat. Add pancetta and saute about 6 mins. Add onion, followed by crushed red pepper and garlic. Stir constantly, cooking until onions begin to brown. Add 2 1/2 T. butter, allow it to melt, and then stir in flour. Whisk in milk and simmer.

Pour pan contents into bowl and whisk in cheeses. Return pan to heat and melt 2 T. butter, scraping the bottom of the pan as the butter melts. Add bread crumbs and cook until dark but not burnt. Turn off heat and add parsley, stirring frequently to create topping.

Preheat oven to 350 and butter a 13x9 baking dish. Cook pasta and drain well. Mix cooked pasta and cheese sauce in the baking dish, stirring to coat pasta completely with sauce. Sprinkle crumb/parsley mixture on top and bake 30 minutes. Garnish with fresh parsley and serve.

Smoky, cheesy, and yum. Enjoy!

The Finial Countdown

I'm surveying the renovated walk-in closet in a for-sale Des Moines home when I hear my 15-month-old son making ape noises in the next room. I glance around the corner to discover him circling a four-poster bed, his arms stretched above his head as he exclaims, "Ooh, ooh, oooooh! Pretty! Pretty! Oooooh!"

"Oh," my husband says to the realtor in a sheepish tone, rumpling his face as he quickly assesses the situation. "He really likes finials."

Yes, finials. The decorative ornaments found on the ends of flagpoles, bedposts, grandfather clocks, and curtain rods. He freaking loves them.

There was never much question that my husband's and my offspring would end up being a little...well, different. But even I have to admit: This finial thing can be a little hard to explain. I believe the obsession started at my parents' house, where CJ fell in love with the grandfather clock much as he had done at our house. For whatever reason, my mom once removed the finials from the clock and handed them to him as part of the process of "visiting" the item. Being a toddler who loves routine and being perhaps also slightly weird, CJ insisted on examining and replacing the finials each time thereafter. From there, he began holding finials while having his diaper changed on my parents' four-poster bed, inspiring the sentence my mom says proves the English language contains infinite combinations of words:

"Don't get finials in the poop."
-- My dad

My son manhandling yet
another innocent finial.

My son also likes to peer-pressure other children into liking finials. When we took him to the Festival of Trees and Lights after Thanksgiving, he loved the lighted trees as we expected. But what we didn't anticipate, of course, was that the sitting area at the festival was decorated with white planter boxes that each had FOUR finials. Low-to-the-ground finials, even, which required no adult assistance. CJ walked from finial to finial for at least a half an hour, and before we left he had recruited a 12-month-old little girl to help him touch them.

We've also found that finials are a gateway to fenceposts and lampshade ornaments. If it's ornamental and we walk past it, CJ lunges. There's really no way to tell how this will end.

He's either destined for a career in architecture or souvenir spoonsmithing or it's just a phase and we'd might as well just let him get his fix of finials.

Just don't get them in the poop.

Time to trim

This weekend I have been slowly but surely hauling out the Christmas decorations. And I have to be honest: I'm not planning to get them all out this year. Between some of the non-holiday-decoration-friendly interior design choices I've made in our house, the smallness of our house, and all the other stuff going on in our lives right now, simplicity seemed the right option yet again this year. I do have dreams of someday owning a bigger house and spiffing it all up for the holidays. Just as soon as I get all that extra time and money I've been needing...

But here are some of my favorites that I just had to drag out of their basement hiding spots. Because, you know, Merry Christmas.

1. Fun artificial wreath purchased a few years ago from Nell Hill's
2. Stockings hung by the chimney with care -- mine, which was made by my late Great Aunt Norma when I was a child; CJ's, which I purchased from Pottery Barn Kids but embroidered myself (I was looking for the homemade look and achieved it quite nicely due to my lack of skill); and Ben's, which is neither old nor handmade and needs a little TLC.
3. Santa Claus, which was painted by my late grandfather and is breakable and therefore needs to be kept out of CJ's reach forever and ever.
4. A very old snow glow candle, which was also made by my late grandpa and therefore I will likely never burn. (They look so pretty when they're burning, though...)
5. Flameless candles decorated with holiday scenes, purchased on clearance from Pottery Barn Kids last year (I also have Halloween ones. For some reason, I can't resist these.)
6. One of my many Yankee candles. (Always love when they send their seasonal coupons.) Yankee makes some awesome holiday scents, especially Christmas Tree and Christmas Wreath. Anything that smells like fresh holiday greenery, including actual fresh holiday greenery, is a-okay in my book.
7. Waechstersbach snowman mugs -- a gift from my mother-in-law after we first got married
8. A decorative bowl with a surprise inside -- a recent gift from my mom, who remembers how much I loved my childhood mug with a little bear at the bottom.

Fundraising strategies I clearly do not understand.

Charities love me. There are two main reasons for this: 1) I am generous by nature; and 2) unlike 90% of people in my generation, I still have a home phone number and even frequently answer it during the day. (The odd combination of my techy profession/interests with my aversion to most things techy being the subject of another post for another day.) So for these reasons and some others, my husband (also generous and a guilt-by-association home phone answerer) and I are pretty charitable folks.

But lately I've noticed two trends that are sort of crushing my charitable spirit, or at least making me tired.

The first one is the mysterious "annual fund drive" that happens at LEAST twice a year. Much like the Victoria's Secret "semi-annual sale," which as far as I can tell is an omnipresent vat of padded E-cup bras and ill-fitting underpants in strange patterns that you're welcome to fish through at any time, the purported frequency of this event does not reflect reality. In fact, I recently had one charity contact me less than a month after a donation to thank me for my gift "last year" and see if I'd be willing to contribute again this year. I am definitely stupid, but not that stupid. And hey, I get it: After an organization figures out you're willing to give, you're just going to get more and more requests because you're where their money comes from. But I'm not a big fan of lying, so please stop doing this because lying indeed is what it is.

The second one that's wearing me out is the "send five letters to your neighbors three months from now" request. Of course I am willing to do this, but is it really the most efficient way to raise funds? Couldn't I just send you a donation equivalent to the cost of five stamps? (Whatever a stamp costs now; I've honestly lost track. Fifty cents? I know they were 22 cents throughout most of my childhood. Kids today probably have no idea what stamps are.) Because by the time you call me, call me three more times to thank me and see if I have "any questions" about the mailing, ship me a giant packet of stuff, and follow up eleventy nine times to see if I have collected any money yet, you probably could have mailed those letters (and more) yourself. Honestly, I'd love to hear from someone who works in fundraising who can explain this technique to me, because I'm not seeing the value. And yes, I am mailing letters for three different groups again this year. And no, I don't expect to get a good response from my neighbors this time, either. And yes, I realize it is me and little old ladies who do this and maybe I should disconnect our home phone and why don't I just get an iPhone already.

Just call me Ethel. And please give generously to your favorite causes this holiday season! Because even if it is sometimes annoying, that is what this season is all about.

All aglow

I've long had a love/hate relationship with Christmas lights. On one hand, I love them. On the other hand, I hate that my husband feels the need to impersonate Clark Griswold just about every holiday season and almost kill himself climbing our house to decorate it.

Our son loves Christmas lights, too, and he also started crying every time his father started up the ladder today -- so apparently he shares my feelings about the situation. Nonetheless, since two of CJ's words are "pretty" and "lights," we know trees and exterior illumination will be a highlight of his holiday.

On Saturday, Mom, Dad, Grandpa, and Grandma took CJ to Blank Children's Hospital's Festival of Trees and Lights. And yes, he loved it. Gentle touches.

 CJ's favorite tree (Sesame Street) and my favorite tree (peacock)

On Sunday it was once again time for Ben to go crazy with some "pretty lights" at our house, and even though I was angry as usual at his making the climb, I have to admit it looks pretty good.

And of course we're capping the evening in traditional style -- with a viewing of National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. Tis the season to be merry!

With thanks.

 

Children make the holidays more fun -- even when they refuse to wake up from their naps to celebrate or throw half their Thanksgiving dinner on the floor. Even last Thanksgiving, when CJ was not quite three months old and I didn't even really get a chance to eat my turkey, having a child brought new meaning to the concept of gratitude.

So I just wanted to take a moment to share my thanks for a loving family -- especially the baby boy who has brought so much joy to my life. It's so fun to see the holidays through his eyes and share his excitement about discovering such treasures as silly "Turkey Notes," twinkling Christmas lights, and mini pumpkins that stack oh-so-nicely upon one's head.

And if he were somehow able to express it using a combination of "pretty," "bye-bye," "light," "Ernie," "catch," "another," and barking like a puppy, I am sure CJ would say how thankful he is to have two parents, both sets of grandparents, two sets of great-grandparents, and his only aunt and uncle living close by and spending so much time with him. He is truly an unusually fortunate child. (And we're truly fortunate parents to have so many babysitting options!) What a wonderful holiday season it will be for all of us. 

Even if CJ's teething and we have to go to the Meineke Car Care Bowl and we all have strep throat. Just clarifying that my life is not a Norman Rockwell painting is all.

Now to dust off some Bing Crosby and feign Rockwell painting-ness. Happy Holidays!

Cranberry & Red Pepper Jelly

Every year, I look forward to the November issue of Bon Appetit magazine and all the awesome Thanksgiving recipe ideas it includes. But since I'm not the main Turkey Day chef, there's only so much I can experiment with. Last year I found myself drawn to the recipe for cranberry & red pepper jelly -- which was advertised as being the perfect topping for leftover turkey sandwiches. I tried it, and it's delicious. So this year I have whipped up another batch in anticipation of leftovers.

CRANBERRY & RED PEPPER JELLY

3 red bell peppers, chopped
2 red chiles, seeded and chopped
1 1/2 tsp. crushed red pepper flakes
1 c. sugar
1/2 tsp. kosher salt
1 T. fresh lemon juice
1/4 c. liquid pectin
3 c. cranberries

Wash, sterilize, and prepare jars.

Combine peppers, chiles, sugar, flakes, and salt in a heavy pot over medium heat. Bring to simmer, stirring to dissolve sugar. Stir in pectin and lemon juice. Reduce heat and simmer gently 10 minutes.

Stir in cranberries and simmer gently until they burst, about 10 minutes. Transfer hot jelly to hot jar, let cool, and cover. This jelly will keep up to three weeks in the refrigerator.

To a Tea

I'm certainly not the girliest girl by any stretch of the imagination, but I do love a good tea room. Especially during the holidays, some of my fondest memories are gathering with friends for lunching and shopping at places like Perry's Thymes Remembered Tea Room or Ivy's Tea Room/Shoppes on Grand in Ames -- both of which, sadly, are now closed. I found myself thinking about these places when I was invited to a potluck luncheon this week, so I decided to dust off THE Ivy's Tea Room chicken salad recipe and bring that as my contribution. The key ingredients are specialty items -- Cherchies champagne mustard and Lem'n Dill seasoning. And since Ivy's is now closed, I'm sure they don't mind me sharing their famous chicken salad recipe here.

IVY'S FAMOUS CHICKEN SALAD

4 c. cooked and chopped chicken
1 c. chopped celery
1/2 c. sweet pickle relish
2 T. Cherchies Lem'n Dill Seasoning
1 c. Miracle Whip
1/3 c. Cherchies champagne mustard
 Black pepper

Combine all ingredients and serve on crackers, lettuce leaves, or tea rolls.

Top, if desired, with vidalia onion salad dressing.

Perchance to dream.

When I was six months pregnant with my now-14-month-old son, my friend the child psychologist gave me the book Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child by Dr. Marc Weissbluth and told me I should absolutely read it. At the time, the gift caught me off guard: Babies sleep; that's what they do, I thought. What could be so hard about that? Do we really need a book about this? Of all the things I had thought about having a baby or worried about in becoming a parent, the baby's sleep habits certainly wasn't one of them.

By the time  my son was about four months old, I realized it: When you have an infant, worrying about your baby's sleep habits is pretty much all you do. Your inner monologue is constantly something along the lines of "He's sleeping late this morning -- I'm glad to sleep in, too, but if he doesn't wake up soon he won't take his morning nap. And if he doesn't take his morning nap, he'll fall asleep in the car on the way to the store, and then if he sleeps too long in the car, he won't take his afternoon nap until late and then he'll end up falling asleep early tonight and then he might be up at the crack of dawn tomorrow and oh, there he is now -- guess I'd better get up." For a while there, creating a sleep schedule for your child, adapting it as he grows, and keeping him well rested can feel like a full-time job all of its own. But it is definitely worth it and I definitely recommend the book as a source of information and inspiration.

Now, some of the advice in Weissbluth's book is just plain silly: If your child cries in the night, don't go to him unless he's hot, cold, or sick. (How exactly a parent knows if her child is hot, cold, or sick without going to him is a mystery to me.) But the book's sometimes hardline admonitions to let your child learn to fall asleep on his own are just what a lot of new parents need to hear in this modern age of having never-let-your-child-cry-under-any-circumstances-or-you'll-probably-cause-permanent-damage attachment parenting philosophy. But even more important than the book's warning that you may have to let children "cry it out" is its message that most children, especially ones with behavioral problems, AREN'T GETTING ENOUGH SLEEP.

From the day he was born, my son has apparently had a talent for sleeping long stretches. For the first two months, he pretty much slept all the time -- day and night -- except to eat. He took a predictable four-hour afternoon nap for many months and developed blissful six-hour night stretches early on. By the time he was four months, he slept about nine hours straight at night. It was great, but none of this was due to anything I did -- I was just lucky. I had given birth to a world champion sleeper -- an easy baby, as the book calls him.

Around six months, my son was ready to do what Weissbluth would describe as actually sleeping through the night -- 11 1/2 to 12 1/2 hours, 7-ish p.m. to 7-ish a.m. I would always make sure to get him home before his bedtime and check for cues that he might like to go to sleep even earlier -- often 6:30 p.m. I would rock him and put him down awake but drowsy as the book described and, if necessary, let him fuss a bit (usually less than 90 seconds, sometimes five minutes) after I put him down. By about 12 months, the bedtime routine and rocking pretty much became obsolete. My son knew when he was ready for bed. He no longer cried when I put him down to sleep; in fact, he started sometimes crying until I put him down to sleep. We had a week of regression around 13 months in which I had to let him fuss a few minutes after putting him down again, but he quickly went back to his normal, crib-loving self. And I'm sure we'll go through a regression again, but I have learned that consistency pays off and that I need to respect my child's space and create an environment in which he is free to learn things on his own.

Here's the thing: Naps are important, but they're also wildly unpredictable. Sometimes they go well, sometimes they don't. Sometimes they're taken at home, sometimes elsewhere. Sometimes falling asleep in the car on the way home from an innocent trip to the grocery store can ruin the whole day. Sometimes, 45 minutes into your exhausted son's nap, your husband will use the home phone to call his cell phone in an attempt to locate it and discover it is set on outdoor volume and is one wall away from your child's nursery and wakes up your son, who won't go back to sleep and ends up falling asleep before dinner and you want to pinch your husband's head off and kick it down the street. (Hypothetically, of course.) So bedtime is easier to control than naptime, and we try to control it.

I'm pretty sure most others see me as a ridiculous, dogmatic, horribly inflexible person who won't keep her child up late even just this one time. To be honest, I certainly wish I could make the occasional exception -- but my little guy would not have any part of that. By 7:45 p.m., he'd be A) screaming, or B) asleep. Last Friday night, I went to an evening college basketball game and couldn't believe how many babies and young children were there. I was jealous. But then I wondered, "How much sleep are these kids getting at night? If they stay up until 10 p.m., are they sleeping until 10 a.m.? Surely not."

I constantly get strange looks when I go somewhere in the evening and answer that C.J. is at home asleep. Sure, I'd love to show him off to others and spend more time with him at night, but the most important thing is to do what's right for him: Let him get his sleep.

It's not the answer most people want, but it's the best advice I have: Put your kid to bed earlier. Oh, and read Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child. But mostly just put your kid to bed earlier.

In the end, it can be hard -- especially for parents who work. But it's best for everyone. Get a Netflix subscription or reorganize your cupboards or pretend you're eighty and watch Wheel of Fortune and go to bed early like I do. Cuz you may be hanging out at home for a little while.

Try to enjoy the silence.