Young Readers

An avid reader myself, I read to my kids almost fanatically. One of my favorite memories of the first day we brought our firstborn home was unpacking my hospital bag and hearing my husband start reading the first chapter of "The Hobbit" to our daughter, knowing as he did that it was my very favorite childhood book.  I think he secretly wanted me to cry a couple happy, post-natal emotional tears. I obliged.

Our eldest is now two and a half, and knows all her letters and the sounds they make, but has some difficulty pronouncing "L" correctly--most often, it comes out sounding like a "Y." She has also reached a point where she knows how several books go, especially favorites like our Eric Carle books. Today, I overheard her reading "Panda Bear, Panda Bear, What Do You See?" with a little twist.  Brown Bear also sees, but Polar Bear leads a book of animals hearing other animals' noises "in their ears." Her rendition of "PB,PB,WDYS?" went a little something like this....

"Monkey, Monkey, what do you see?"
"I see a sea turtle looking in my ear."
"Sea Turtle, Sea Turtle, what do you see?"
"I see a sea yie-yon looking in my ear." (That would be sea lion for those of you who aren't fluent in kidspeak....)

I remember the little kid voice from watching my nieces and nephews grow up. Kid giggle is one of my all time favorite noises, but the memory of hearing my daughter "read" herself a story will always bring a smile to my face.

A Great Reminder

At this time of year, many of us get caught up in the glitz and hustle of the holidays, spend ourselves into the poor house to buy meaningless presents for people we don't talk to more than two or three times a year and feel guilty and unloved for any number of reasons, personal and public.

This blog post at MarcandAngel.com is a good list to read at anytime (and periodic refreshers will be necessary), but I think especially poignant as we face down the last of our current year and start making plans for the new one.
I especially like "Success is a battle between you and yourself only," and "Worry will not strip tomorrow of its burdens, it will strip today of its joy."

While positive thinking may not get anything DONE, it certainly makes your internal atmosphere more pleasant while you go about your work.

Economy of Scale

Buying in bulk represents the theory called Economy of Scale: buying more of an item at one time reduces the per-item cost. However, as I examine my own spending habits, taking more and more offense at being labeled a "consumer" rather than considered as a person, I realize that I've been duped for years. Buying massive quantities of anything seems to lead to faster or more reckless use, and thereby more money being spent rather. The main concession I'm willing to make is toilet paper--having plenty of TP on hand doesn't seem to make me feel like spending more time in the bathroom.

But think about it. I buy a big bag of green bell peppers at the wholesale club because I want to make stuffed peppers (for myself and my hubby---there's no way the kids are going to give that dish a go). Then I have to find some way to get through four additional peppers before they spoil in my refrigerator. So I add peppers to salad, dice them up in eggs or lasagna...bad things? No! But not necessarily what I would have been doing anyway, thereby an additional expense rather than a savings.

So, as I face the decision to renew my wholesale club membership, which I've had since college in one form or another, I am torn. Should I try to alter my lifestyle to be more structured and organized in order to reap the most potential benefit from bulk purchasing? Or should I just shop the sales at the grocery store, buy generic when I can, and continue to cater to the mercurial moods of the family appetite and my own culinary muse?

Along the same lines, I'm fighting harder against the trap of buying something because there's a coupon for it. If it's not something we use already, then no matter what the coupon "saves" us, it's a luxury item. I think by re-evaluating the way I approach shopping for food, I'll be able to save time, money, and frustration in the long term. And who wouldn't smile about that?

Today....cookies.

Ingredients

• 1/2 cup sugar
• 1/2 cup shortening
• 1/2 cup I Can't Believe It's Not Butter (Next time around, I'll try just a cup of butter or add another cup of applesauce instead of the shortening/butter combo.)                   
• 1 cup applesauce (natural, no sugar added)
• 1 tablespoon vanilla extract
• 1 teaspoon almond extract
• 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1 teaspoon cream of tartar
• 1 tablespoon cinnamon
• 1 scoop dried milk (the scoop in my package reconstitutes to 8oz of 'milk')
• 1 scoop Benefiber (I used the milk scoop....)

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Line at least two full sized cookie sheets with parchment paper.
2. Mix the sugar, shortening, egg, vanilla and almond extract until creamy (or, turn on the mixer and deal with whatever kids' emergencies erupt whenever you try to do something on your own. by the time you get back, it'll be done). Mix in the flour, baking soda, cream of tartar, and cinnamon. Make several small balls of dough. Roll out dough to about 1/8 or 1/4 inch thick.
3. Allow your young child to pick the cookie cutters they want to use. If they are under five, good luck explaining why the cuts can't overlap. Be prepared for tears when gingerbread men are triple amputees before they ever make it to the oven. 
4. Step back and remember that this is supposed to be fun. The experience and the cookies are for the kid(s) anyway--let them do it how they want, even if it means you can only get three cookies out of a doughball before you have to rework the scraps. Feel free to decorate with gumdrops, sprinkles, nuts, raisins, etc.               
5. Bake at 350 degrees F (175 degrees C) for 8 to 10 minutes. The bottom will likely brown before the tops turn "golden" so be ready to pull them at the first hint of tint. Cool on a rack. Serve with a tall, cold glass of milk.

A post-production note: these are not very sweet cookies, so if you are splurging calorically, or just don't give a damn, feel free to liberally apply icing of your choosing (or jam--they're quite tasty with jam). My kids (both under three) are quite content with them as they are, so I haven't tried adding any additional sugar en masse.

Come on in! The water's fine!

Last night, at around 2am, I had an epiphany.  Too many funny things happen to me to keep to myself. Even if no one else really gets why I am chuckling under my breath, it's okay. I just want to make moments of mirth available to people of like mind. I make no claim to comic genius; this is just me, laughing at the world as I float along.

Many of the tributaries that form this stream of consciousness will be child-related. I have two young daughters, and they will provide me with endless inspiration, no doubt. Some may be relationship-based. My husband is my best friend, and with over a decade of shared history, there's plenty of giggle fodder. I grew up in a big family in a small town, so family and friends will influence this current, I'm sure. I hope not to dwell on negative shakings-of-my-head, sardonic snorts, or cynical chuckles, though they will certainly show up as a riffle from time to time.

What caused my wee hours epiphany, you ask?

Daughter #1, "S," is now two and a half years old. Daughter #2, "M," is eleven months. They share a bedroom, but generally nights are peaceful. M is having a rough week due to some teething, and has taken to flinging herself to the ground and complaining at the top of her lungs in a fit when not catered to, which we don't allow in our household. M has woken up the entire family for several nights running, and even her sister, who usually sleeps through her restless moments, has had quite enough.

Last night, M started up around two o'clock, but even through the monitor, I could tell that she wasn't really committed to an outburst yet. It was more of a sleepy mumble than an all-out shriek. It did, however continue for several minutes while I lay in my cozy blanket nest, waiting for her to either fall back to sleep or escalate the situation. S had no such patience. Suddenly, I hear her rustling out of her own bed, small footsteps stomping across the carpet. In a clear, firm, two-year-old voice, she started shouting at her sister, "No fits!"

I woke my husband to tell him the story, but I think he'd have rather waited for me to start a blog...