Mumbling Mommy

Camping With 3 Kids Under 4? Mhmmm... We Did It!

2012-03-04T20:56:00.005-05:00

By Ellen

We moved to Colorado from Chicago just over a year ago and we dreamed of going hiking, camping, and taking long walks along the mountains -- all the while spending quality time with our kids (no tv, no distractions). We were simply not going to allow our children’s ages (then a 3-year-old boy and 1-year-old twin girls) stop us. No way.

My son, Soren, admiring Turquoise Lake

So, this past summer we took all three kids camping. Albeit we were at a camp site where my sisters' in-laws (g-d love 'em) had a camper set up. Still, our family unit was going to be sleeping in a tent. We packed up the pack and plays, all the special food (G-d forbid they eat normal food that everyone else eats), extra clothes and blankets and headed out with delusions of John Denver singing in our heads.

The camp site was gorgeous. The name of the park is Turqoise Lake. How could you not fall in love with a place with that name and not have a fantastic time camping with your family? So we got there and said our hello’s -- after driving 2 hours in our CR-V with 3 kids. We were already exhausted at that point and we hadn’t even begun “camping.” Oh, and lets not forget the diabetic dog that came along who requires 2 shots of insulin a day and a very strict diet (why oh why would we NOT have a diabetic dog? C’mon.).

The kids were actually great all day. The girls usual bed time is 7 pm. We all tried to lay down in the tent as it got dark. We ended up not setting up the pack and play’s and muy husband and I thought we would each sleep with one of the girls and the boy could sleep somewhere in the midst of all the arms and legs. Sounds good, right? Well, no one would go to sleep of course. The girls couldn’t get comfortable and kept turning and moving and crying. Each one would finally fall asleep on top of a parent and then the dog would move and everything was back where it started. At some point, though, everyone DID fall asleep. We probably slept for a total of 5 hours. Ahhh camping with the family!!!

The next morning, we were still determined to make this camping thing work. We had a good morning, walked to the lake, rode our bikes... but then it started to rain. Our plans were to stay another night but as soon as it started raining, we decided to call it quits and head home. Especially after knowing what faced us at bedtime. Everyone was disappointed but we packed everything back up and called it a trip.

Based on this camping trip (and other activities), we’ve learned that often we rush things because we are just so excited to do these kinds of activities with the kids regardless of their age and the appropriateness of the activity for their age. We do this time and time again. Hopefully the now 4-year-old will retain some recollection of his first time camping and we can always say we went camping with 3 kids, 3 and under.

Will we continue to rush things and cause undue burden on ourselves?

Or will we continue to rush things and feel like champions because we actually did it?

Swing Envy Leads To Family Friendship

2012-03-01T19:20:00.000-05:00

By Rachael

An unexpected friendship, all because of a swing

It’s a warm summer evening. I’ve just finished cleaning up the dinner dishes and my preschool-aged daughter, Megan, is running laps barefoot around the kitchen island. She is begging for a Popsicle and asking to go play outside. I hang up my dish towel, rub my seven-months-pregnant belly, and tap the button to open our overhead garage door. Megan plays on her swing hanging from the tree in our front yard, then hops on a tricycle and pedals up and down the sidewalk while I watch her from our porch glider. My husband joins me. We lift our faces to the breeze, grateful that the hottest part of the day is over. Suddenly, Megan springs from her tricycle and bounds squealing down the sidewalk. Emily has arrived.

Emily is one of Megan’s best friends, and we might never have gotten to know her and her family if we hadn’t hung a baby swing from the tree in our front yard when Megan was little. Emily and her family live a few blocks away and take frequent walks in the neighborhood, and back when both girls were toddlers, our house held a special appeal for Emily. We occasionally saw her parents pushing her in the stroller while we were outside. They would wave and tell us with a smile, “Our daughter really envies your swing.”

The brief "hellos" evolved into short conversations as Emily and her family passed our house. One day, we noticed Emily’s mom was sporting an unmistakable baby bump. We chatted about the soon-to-arrive baby while Megan approached Emily’s stroller. The girls sized each other up. Megan pointed admiringly at Emily’s princess sandals. Emily grunted at our swing.

Last summer, we came to expect the evening rendezvous on our front lawn. We usually headed outside to play after dinner and would watch to see if Emily and her family happened to walk by. Often, they did. Our chats turned to hour-long conversations. I was pregnant with my second daughter, Abigail, by that point, and Emily’s mom and I would talk about the impending birth. Emily’s dad would talk with my husband about sports and work. While we stood in the grass, the girls hauled every yard toy out of our small garage. They raced tricycles and scooters down the sidewalk and colored our driveway with chalk drawings. Baby Scott had made his debut already, and he spent the evenings crawling in the grass and getting pushes in the swing from the girls. As summer faded to fall, we lingered in the yard until the sun sank low, and Emily and her family would walk back home in the fading light.

Our friendship is one of those blessings you don’t see coming. How many times do you really make friends with the people who walk past your house? The girls love each other, and Emily’s mom is one of those women who is easy to get along with and is a nice companion on the journey of motherhood. We head over to each other’s houses for play dates and meet up at library story time, and we sometimes rely on each other for babysitting. Megan stayed at Emily’s house when newborn Abigail had jaundice and my husband and I were at the hospital making arrangements to come home with a bili bed.

Emily’s mom is expecting her third baby this summer, and once again our conversations turn to all things baby-related. She wants to be surprised about the gender. Emily, however, proclaimed that God knows the gender and says she spoke with Him and the baby is a girl. It is a good thing, watching each of our families grow over the years, and I’m glad to know this particular family.

And all because of a simple baby swing hanging from the tree in our front yard.

A Peek At Infertility: The Journey

2012-03-01T19:12:00.002-05:00

By Heather

In the past few weeks, I've been writing about my family's struggles with infertility. Today I want to talk about the steps it took between being told about our reproductive challenges to finding out we had finally conceived.

"There was basically no privacy or intimacy anymore in our
marriage. The entire thing felt very scientific."
Photo via Auroh.com

After the conversation with the nurse, our lives flipped. It took 7 weeks to get a new patient consultation to discuss our infertility. Looking back now, everything about infertility involved waiting. Those 7 weeks were miserable. We played the “what if” game over and over again. My husband couldn’t get over the guilt. He knew how much we wanted to be parents, and he constantly felt he was letting me down.

Then the tables turned. The first thing the Reproductive Endocrinologist (RE) did was repeat dozens of tests. He ran a new sperm analysis. He had me make appointments on various specific days of my cycle for blood work and ultrasounds. A month later, we met again. The sperm analysis came back clear. They couldn’t find any of the issues found in the prior sample (morphed sperm, low count, hostile surroundings). We were in shock.

It was great; our prayers were answered, until the “but” came. It turned out that my husband’s tests came back perfect but instead my tests were now a cause for concern. Specifically I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. My periods would be anywhere for 40 to 90 days apart. I simply wasn’t ovulating regularly. On top of that, when I did actually ovulate, my body wasn’t releasing the follicles so instead, cysts formed on my ovaries. I even had one cyst surgically removed because it grew to the size of a grapefruit. The cysts were excruciatingly painful. Every month, my period would be late raising my hopes only to get negative after negative results on the pregnancy tests.

We worked with the RE for 6 months. The first month was tests as I mentioned above. The second and third months, I used Clomid. The first attempt with Clomid, I was prescribed 50 mg pills. I had to take them starting the 3^rd day of my monthly cycle. It only helped produce 3 follicles, but none large enough to lead to pregnancy. For my second attempt, the dose was upped to 100 mg pills. We got 4 good sized follicles this time. We chose to use timed intercourse instead of IUI or IVF treatments. Once I finished the Clomid, I took ovulation predictor tests to determine when I was most fertile. And then we waited.

In the infertility world, everyone talks about the “two week wait.” This is the worst, longest, most depressingly exciting two weeks of your life. You hold on to every ounce of hope that it worked this time but you prepare yourself for the disappointment because if you get too hopeful, you’ll be crushed. I was crushed many times over.

After two months of Clomid alone with no babies, the doctor added a prescription for Prometrium to help prepare my uterus. We also added injections of HCG to be given only after having a mid-cycle ultrasound to be sure the follicles were ready. If there were too many follicles, we could risk higher order multiples. If there were too little follicles, the month would be a waste. Again, we stuck with timed intercourse. Our doctor placed a lot of pressure on how unsuccessful this method was and that we were prime candidates for IUI. He insisted that we’d get pregnant right away. I was determined to avoid that kind of intervention. It was not covered by our insurance and we simply didn’t have the finances to force something that I still believed could happen on its own.

Month four and five went by and still nothing. Our friends and family knew each step of our journey. They knew what day of my cycle I was on. They knew when my period was expected. They knew what day I was testing for pregnancy. There was basically no privacy or intimacy anymore in our marriage. The entire thing felt very scientific. So on the sixth month, we tried in secret. It was hard not having anyone to talk to during the stressful parts of the month (the mid-cycle ultrasound and two week wait are definitely two biggest stressors). 30 days later, bright and early on a Thursday morning, I peed on a stick. I had done this dozens of times before and knew not to get excited. I whispered to myself “It’s okay if it’s negative. It’s okay if it’s negative.” I knew I’d be in tears if the second line didn’t turn up but I just couldn’t help trying to convince myself.

This wasn’t just another month. This was the one year mark. One year that we’d been trying to conceive and one year that we’d failed over and over again. I casually tossed the test aside to wait the allotted time, started washing my hands and just so happened to glance back towards the test. It was that moment that I realized it wasn’t negative. IT WASN’T NEGATIVE! I sat on the toilet and dug the instructions out of the trash can. I knew something had gone wrong. I frantically went into the living room and started searching “false positives” on the Internet. I simply wasn’t convinced that I could possibly get pregnant after all that time.

Sure enough though, once daylight broke, I called my RE who sent me immediately for blood work. And less than an hour later, I got the phone call. I was pregnant!

Thursday Three: Easy Spring Cleaning Ideas

2012-02-29T20:58:00.000-05:00

By Katie

It's the first of March -- almost spring!

Which brings to mind an old springtime tradition.... the cleaning.

Time for a new toothbrush

I've already started some cleaning projects in my house and have made a list of others. Should I wait for spring to do any of these things? Probably not. But it is nice to have a reason to freshen up the house a bit and clear out some old things to make room for new.

Here are three quick and inexpensive way to spruce up your house this spring. What you do beyond this is between you and the dust mites.

1. Replace toothbrushes. Maybe you are one of those people who changes toothbrushes religiously, on schedule.
I am not, in the sense that I do not mark it on the calendar. The American Dental Association suggests that you change out your toothbrush every three to four months, and more often for children. If you are still using the toothbrush that you packed to go visit family for Thanksgiving, it's time for a new one.

2. Change out rugs/mats. When was the last time you got a new bathroom rug? How about the one by your front door? Many big-name stores are rolling out spring and summer lines which often means sales to promote the new items. Not picky about color or theme? Head for the clearance shelves first. A lot of items have to be cleared out to make room for the new things and you can find great markdowns.

3. Organize and purge your cleaning products and old cosmetics. This is a great time to go through all of your cleaning products and get rid of the ones that may be outdated or nearly empty. You may also want to reorganize them, especially if it has been awhile since you looked at what you have. Cosmetics should also be assessed from time to time. A tube of mascara should not be kept longer than six months and you risk eye infection if you hold on to it longer. Know what items have expired and which ones simply are not your style anymore. Who doesn't love getting new beauty items anyway?

Partner In Life, Green Olive Jar Unwedging

2012-02-29T19:42:00.000-05:00

By Sally

My fridge had become "rubber-glove" worthy

Yes, the day had come. I could no longer deal with the outdated containers, the sticky portions on the shelf where some long-forgotten meal, or “I’ll eat that tomorrow” item had been stored. I emptied everything out of the fridge, removing the shelving and drawers as I went, plopping them into hot sudsy water.

Until I got to the green olives jar. This is no small-time olive jar. This was a large version of green olives from a warehouse grocery outlet. We like green olives at our house. We need the big jar.

Somehow, I had managed to put it on the very top shelf and it was wedged there. I tried pulling the shelving forward as far as I could, but the jar was still wedged. I couldn’t get the shelving out because the jar was too tall.

I tried several creative maneuvers, kneeling up inside of the refrigerator, while my other jars, vegetables, leftovers surrounded me wondering if they’d ever be returned to their nice clean home.

I was irritated. Here I had this great plan to clean and freshen a portion of my kitchen, and this green olive jar intruded. I finally texted my husband of 38 years with this daunting issue, and he advised that he’d be home in about an hour. He hoped I could last until then. He's used to me.

At that point, it was finally funny. So many times in our marriage I have gotten myself “worked up” over some perceived wrong or slight or manufactured frustration. Then Bruce will say, “I’ll take care of it. Just calm down, Honey”. I will admit that during some perceived incidents I have not responded well to his quick assurance. “He obviously doesn’t understand. He is minimizing my concern.” And yet, he has a good record of helping me work through whatever the issue is.

There was a portion of my life where I was overly concerned about what everyone else thought about me, our family, our choices. It’s a sad way to live. I’d let one “odd comment” or probing question throw me into all kinds of mental battles. Everything else revolving in our lives was doing well, and I’d get hung up on this one item….or shall I say a “big old jar of green olives.”

It’s not a healthy habit. Fortunately, I’ve grown (some). I don’t get agitated as quickly anymore. And I’m thankful for Bruce’s ability to stay calm and help me work through things. Everyone needs an honest and open accountability partner….be it a spouse, friend, child, or neighbor. We all get a little rattled at times, and it’s good to see the issue from another angle. And yes, it took him exactly 30 seconds to get that jar out. He pulled the shelf out as far as it could go, pushed the jar off the back and caught it with his other hand.

Sometimes that accountability partner is able to see things from another angle…and that’s all we need.

Wordless Wednesday: Sympathy Belly

2012-02-28T19:46:00.001-05:00

Submitted by Heather

Why You Should Use A Credit Card For Everything

2012-02-28T19:46:00.000-05:00

By Heather

Maybe it’s the years of sales training instilled in me, or maybe it’s actually a smart idea. Either way, I make all my purchases with a credit card and I’m here to tell you that you should too. Credit cards have gotten such a bad rep over the last couple of years. You constantly read articles about how the credit card companies are out to get you, charging high interest and ridiculous fees; even how they negatively affect your credit score. So before you count me out and skip this post, let me tell give you my sales pitch.

If you can earn money by spending money -- why not?

· Do you know what happens to your card when the waiter takes it after you pay your dinner bill? We assume he takes it to the register, swipes it and brings it right back; but what if he doesn’t? What if he takes it around the corner, out of sight and writes down your card number? He goes home and goes on an online shopping spree. If you gave him your debit card, that money he spends comes out of your checking account. This could be your car payment or worse, your mortgage. Yes, you report it to your bank and Visa protects you and yes, you will get your money back, but did you know it could be 7-10 business days before you have that money back into your account and that by law it could be up to 45 days? Do you think your mortgage lender is going to care that your payment is late because you were a fraud victim? It’s harsh, but no, they don’t. If you’d paid with a credit card, the money Mr. Steals-A-Lot spends doesn’t affect the money you need for your bills.

· Have you ever rented a car or stayed in a hotel with a debit card on file as security? They put a preauthorization hold on your account. This could be $100. This could be the full amount of your bill or estimated expenses. Again, this is money out of your checking account! Having a credit card on file could free up that money.

· Having one credit card on your credit report will NOT hurt you. (Having a credit card for every department store in the city plus high balances on five more cards with a few late payments over the years however will. Know the difference.) Your credit report is made up of three sections, installment loans, revolving debt, and mortgages. The revolving debt is weighted the least. If you abuse these accounts than yes, they will hurt you. If you have too many of these accounts, than yes, they will hurt you. But if you use a credit card responsibly and keep it for emergencies or every day purchases, it will not hurt you.

· Ready for the best part? You can MAKE MONEY off of using a credit card. I personally use a card that offers 1% cash back with every single purchase, no limits, and no catch. I’m also enrolled in other programs through the bank that offers the card to get a bonus on that 1% so I’m getting 1.5% and the rewards I earn are automatically deposited into my savings account every month. On average, I get a $20 deposit each month. That’s $240 a year for doing nothing more than using this credit card instead of a debit card.

· I know, you’re already thinking the interest or fees I’m paying make that $240 not worth it, right? Guess what? I pay nothing! There is no annual fee on the card. And I pay my statement in full every month to avoid interest charges. It’s not like I’m borrowing money I don’t have. I only purchase things that I have the money for anyway: my groceries, my gas, household items, etc.

· What about cash? A lot of people use a debit card mutually as their ATM card to make cash withdrawals or get cash back at the store. To solve this issue, we got standard ATM cards (to be used exclusively with a PIN number). We only use cash when there is no other option. We’re getting rewards, why not?

I was taught to sell credit cards for years and I never bought into it but once I truly gave it a shot, all of the information really made more sense. My advice? Head to your bank and see what your options are.

Reluctant Mamahood

2012-02-28T19:44:00.002-05:00

By Heather Novak

I never wanted to be a mama because I knew that came with the kids! I remember being in college and having a conversation with our dorm janitor who looks like a member of ZZ Top and him saying something about getting married and having kids and I said “Oh No! I want to do what I want when I want!” He said “Well that’s how you GET kids!” I laughed but knew that I was NOT interested.

I'm pretty sure I'm NOT getting the "Mother of the Year" award

Some of you wanted to be mamas out of the gate. You may have been babysitting when you were big enough to sit up and have another baby in your lap. On the other hand, some of you didn’t want any kids either and now they are in high school and you still cannot figure out how it happened. What I can tell you is that every mama is in a constant learning process and we are all in it together. We all make LOTS of mistakes and I’m pretty sure I am NOT getting the “Mother of the Year” Award this year. Or next. Half the time I have no idea what I am doing and the other half I spend reading parenting books while my sweet child falls off of things or eats the dog’s food. And you probably are not getting that Mother of the Year Award either so don’t get all smug!

It wasn’t until my late thirties that I met a man that I knew I truly should not let get away. John was everything I wanted and needed in a mate. Except... John wanted kids! YIKES! We were dating and he explained that if this got more serious and led to marriage he knew I didn’t want kids, but would I consider them? I agreed to consider having one...and then said he could barter for a second. We got married and I felt at home in my life for the first time. Being loved by John let me be weak, let me be sweet. His love for me opened my heart and gave my life a peace I never experienced before. With such a happy marriage little did I know I would be the one who’s clock would start ticking and I would start chasing him around the house trying to get pregnant a bit earlier than our agreed upon one year mark!

As a control freak I started charting my temperatures and doing anything else to increase our odds of getting pregnant. I was ready and attacking family planning like a professional goal instead of the miracle it is. We got pregnant the second month trying and were thrilled. When we finally got to the 12 week check up and went in to hear the heartbeat we found out we had miscarried at 8 weeks. My body didn’t seem to know, my belly had started to pooch out, I didn’t have any signals anything was wrong. We were devastated.

Any of you who have experienced this kind of loss knows some of what I mean...but if you haven’t it can be an awkward topic and that is OK. I have always been an upbeat and positive girl, so the depression, the helpless crying even weeks afterwards really took me by surprise. I am grateful I was able to learn some things through this sad time. Most importantly, I learned that I did want to be a Mama...and that the best thing I did for all three of my babies-the first we lost, Portia and now our newest Libby, is give them right back to God. Life is on loan to us in any form, our own or our spouse, friends, children. I love the quote “Becoming a mother is deciding to forever have your heart walking around outside of your body.” And have learned firsthand it is true.

The fear of making it through the first trimester the next time we got pregnant was immediately replaced by the fear something would be wrong with our baby...or happen to her later. I realized that in becoming a parent not only can you develop this ferocious love for another human being, but you also have the deepest fear and vulnerability imaginable. I don’t know how parents can stay sane without a strong faith. That (and lots of chocolate!) kept me going through the next pregnancy and this one too.

We had Portia and two years later Libby. I don’t have to tell you what holding your child, adopted, delivered or otherwise does to you. What it does to your soul...to your toes. Before becoming a Mama I was so bored and disgusted with parenting conversations. Didn’t these people have anything else to think or talk about? I laugh at myself, at my pre-mamahood selfishness on a regular basis now. I openly mock myself at how fascinated I have become with Portia’s most mundane daily details. I could bore anyone to death with my cloth diapering evangelism, my breastfeeding fervor and my theories about attachment parenting and baby wearing. Portia and Libby add more joy to every day of my life than I could have imagined.

It seems every day I have a whole new batch of worries, wonders and yes, reluctance. But I know it will all work out. Some days will be good, some will not be my favorite. The Big Joke on the old Me is that parenting is way more fun than not parenting. It’s more everything, isn’t it? These little lives have opened my heart and mind in so many ways I could almost be embarrassed at how I started out looking parenthood. Almost. The truth is I’m grateful to have learned the hard lessons because they make every day sweeter, every piece of knowledge deeper and the love for my family larger than my love for myself.

One Recipe, Three Ways: Slow Cooker Veggies

2012-02-27T22:56:00.000-05:00

By Elizabeth

Like many families, we want to eat healthy on a budget. This means eating more veggies, which are healthier and cheaper than meat, but not always everyone's first choice. Our kids love pasta with meaty tomato sauce, so I wanted to create a sauce that had the thickness and chewiness of a meat sauce, but with vegetables instead. The yellow squash, carrots, and onions add sweetness and texture to the tomatoes. "Roasting" the veggies ahead of time makes them even sweeter and brings out their full flavor.

The veggies are cooked in the slow cooker and then finished as one of three possible meals: a pasta sauce; a creamy, blended soup; or a hearty, minestrone-style soup. If you work during the day, complete Step 1 the night before. The next morning, complete Step 2 and let it cook on “low” all day while you are at work. The cooking time is flexible. When you get home, you can finish the meal quickly, using any of the 3 suggestions below.

We made the pasta sauce version, and it was a hit with my two boys. Each of them ate two servings at supper time and will even eat the leftovers, too. I added half of the entire batch of sauce to one box of whole-grain spaghetti. I froze the rest and plan to re-use it for the creamy soup version. You could also make a batch and freeze half of the un-pureed version to finish as minestrone at a later date (adjust pasta and bean quantities accordingly).

The yellow squash and carrots give the sauce/ cream soup version a distinctively orange color. If you’re worried that your family will balk at pasta sauce that isn’t bright red, try substituting one red bell pepper for one of the squash. It will also add a sweet, hearty flavor. I would not recommend substituting zucchini for either of the pureed versions, as this will create a browner, less appealing color. Half zucchini and half squash would be great for the minestrone version, however.

Slow Cooker Veggies

Step 1:

2 yellow squash, quartered and chopped

1 medium yellow onion, chopped

1 cup chopped carrots

1 T canola oil OR non-stick cooking spray

2 T olive oil

1/2 t salt

1/2 t pepper

Coat your slow cooker with canola oil or cooking spray. Add the vegetables and toss with olive oil, salt, and pepper. Cook on High for 1 hour.

Step 2:

1 28-oz can whole tomatoes (do not drain)

1 14-oz can diced tomatoes (do not drain)

1 8-oz can plain tomato sauce

1 T Italian herb blend

1 T minced garlic

1/2 t red pepper flakes

2 T balsamic vinegar

Salt and pepper to taste

Add all ingredients except salt and pepper to the vegetable mixture. Cook on Low for 7-8 hours or High for 4 hours (including finishing times, below) until vegetables are tender. Salt and pepper to taste. Finish in one of the following ways:

Step 3 (your choice):

1. Pasta Sauce

Blend the sauce until it is finely pureed. An immersion blender works best for this, or you can take out about 2 cups at a time for your free-standing blender. For best results, allow the sauce to cook for about another hour before serving. Makes 14 half-cup servings. Serve over pasta with a green salad on the side for a complete meal.

Nutrition Information for Pasta Sauce

62 calories, 3 g fat, 0.3 g saturated fat. 194 mg sodium. 7.7 g carbohydrates, 1.7 grams fiber. 1.7 g protein. Vitamin A, 29%, Vitamin C, 29%, Calcium 3%, Iron 2%.

2. Creamy Vegetable Soup

Puree as above but add one 12oz. can of evaporated milk before serving. Makes 8 one-cup servings. Complete the meal with grilled cheese and fresh fruit.

Nutrition for Creamy Vegetable Soup:

173 calories, 8.3 g fat, 2.5 g saturated fat. 391 mg sodium, 18 g carbohydrates, 3 g fiber. 6 g protein. Vitamin A, 53%, Vitamin C, 51%, Calcium 17%, Iron 4%.

3. Minestrone

Do not puree. Prepare 2 cups (measured dry) whole-wheat shaped pasta, such as penne or macaroni. While the pasta is cooking, add 1 can (drained, rinsed) or 1.5 cups large cooked beans, such as red kidney or Cannellini. Stir in the cooked pasta just before serving. Serve with breadsticks and a green salad. Makes 10 generous servings.

Nutrition for Minestrone:

165 calories, 4.8 g fat, 0.5 g saturated fat. 283 mg sodium, 27 g carbohydrates, 5.5 g fiber. 6 g protein. Vitamin A, 40%, Vitamin C, 41%, Calcium 6%, Iron 9%.

Nutrition information provided by MyFoodDiary.com.

8 Tips For Stay-At-Home Moms

2012-02-27T22:54:00.001-05:00

By Rachael

It’s 8 a.m. and everything is happening all at once. The baby is crying because she’s hungry, and her poopy diaper is leaking onto my shirt I just put on. My 4-year-old has been in time-out already, and I’m ordering her to get dressed and to stop poking the baby in the face. She whines about wanting her breakfast this very instant and insists that I play Disney characters with her all day. I’m tripping over toys splayed across the floor and have a monster pile of laundry lurking downstairs, and I realize it will be at least eight hours before my husband comes home from work, which in stay-at-home mom time feels more like 14 hours.

Staying home with my kids is the best.

Me and My Girls

I have to remind myself of that on the days when the baby won’t nap for more than 30 minutes, or when I wonder how my preschooler went from being a sweet toddler to the listening-challenged, demanding little person she often is today. I stay home because I feel it’s important that I be available for my daughters and I love witnessing all their milestones, and child care is expensive. But some days are just plain hard and long, and while I know I do important, world-changing work, society does not always acknowledge that. It can leave a stay-at-home mom feeling pretty bummed.

Therefore, I present a few tips for those days when you feel like the walls of your home are pressing in close around you.

1.      Get out of the house! Even if it’s just a walk around the neighborhood, and even if it’s 35 degrees outside. Bundle up. Your kids can handle the cold, and the fresh air will instantly improve your mood and give you an energy burst.

2.      Explore your community, especially the free stuff. Go to library story time or take advantage of your mall if it has an indoor playground. (Avoid the temptation to shop, but if you must buy something, treat your kids to frugal sweets from the 25-cent candy machines.) During warmer months, make it a fun goal to try to visit as many different parks as possible, and bring a picnic lunch. My personal favorites in the St. Louis area are the zoo, which is always free, and the Sophia M. Sachs Butterfly House, which has a monthly free day.

3.      Make friends. Knowing that you aren’t alone in dealing with pouty preschoolers and baby diaper blowouts helps immensely. My husband grew up in the St. Louis area, but I am a transplant of five years, so it’s taken a little time to find my own friends. Besides a few ready-made friends through my husband’s own network (including fellow blogger Elizabeth), I’ve met some great friends at library story time (like other fellow blogger Heather). Our family also struck up a friendship with a family in the neighborhood that regularly takes walks past our house. Their daughter was hugely envious of the swing in our front yard, we began chatting, and now we frequently hang out at each other’s houses. Other friend-finding spots include church, your child’s preschool or other extracurricular classes, or the park. See if you have any local moms’ clubs or MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) groups. Don’t forget your network of mom friends on Facebook and Twitter, too.

4.      Entertain the kids with help from the internet. One of my favorite sites is http://dltk-kids.com, which offers free printable preschool projects. We also enjoy free activities on pbskids.org, where my 4-year-old is a Mr. Rogers junkie, and starfall.com. Also, never underestimate the power of Google on a rainy or wintry day. A search one day for “online coloring pages” yielded the site, http://www.coloring4all.com, which kept my daughter occupied all morning.

5.      Take some time for yourself every day. No other job requires you to work 24/7. This is perhaps the hardest thing about being a mom, and especially a stay-at-home mom. It’s important to get some time to just breathe. Take this opportunity when your children nap, or if your child has outgrown naps, insist that she spend 30 minutes to an hour having quiet time and playing calmly or reading books in her room. It will do you all some good. Resist the urge the do housework. Sit. Read. Think. Enjoy a hobby (see below).

6.      Find a grown-up hobby or project. This is a huge boost for my own mental health. For me, it’s writing. Doing something I enjoy, and doing it well, reminds me that I am more than just a person who changes diapers and plays with princess dolls all day. I have a bright mind and I am doing something meaningful with my talents. Delve into your passions, whether they be knitting, painting, researching your family genealogy, gardening, playing an instrument, or skydiving.

7.      Remember that these years are a short part of your life. Your children will not be little and underfoot at home forever. This, too, shall pass, and someday we will be the grandmothers in the grocery store checkout line who smile wistfully at all the moms with young children in tow.

8.      Finally, pray. A lot!

Memoir Monday: Emergency Contact Winner

2012-02-26T19:19:00.000-05:00

** Memoir Monday is a weekly series that features pieces of Katie's memoir-in-progress that covers her first pregnancy. Click here to see past entries. **

By Katie

"Maybe it was the uncaring way the
waiting room chair held my body..."

I walked into the clinic and immediately felt gross. Still reeling from my day of puking, I hadn’t showered or shaved my legs in several days. My hair was a greasy blob and I had a green tank top with sticky bright stripes that said “Key West.” My jean skirt was too tight and too short and also a little wrinkly from being balled up in a drawer somewhere after the last time I tried it on and decided it was too tight and too short. I looked like I belonged in one of those celebs-without-makeup pictures, where the unrecognizable star simultaneously squints and glares at the paparazzi behind a Big Gulp.

I swayed patiently by the registration window. I pulled out the insurance card I had received in the mail a few weeks earlier. This would be my first time using it.

The receptionist could sense me lingering. I say she could sense me because she didn’t look up from the chart she was furiously scribbling in throughout our entire exchange.

“Yeeeessss…” she inquired.

“Hi. Hello. Um. Hi. I just need to check in, or something, I guess?”

“Check in? Do you need a hospital sweetheart?”

“Oh no,” nervous cackling. “Um, no nothing like that. I just. I’ve never been here. So I just wanted to say that I’m here now and need to speak with, well see, a doctor or physician of some sort who can help me possibly?”

“What seems to be the problem?”

“That’s a pretty funny story actually. Well more outlandish than funny, I guess you could say…”

She stopped writing and started tapping her pen impatiently on the chart.

“I’m here because I took a (whispered) pregnancy test at home and I know they tend to be inaccurate so I just wanted a second, more sound, opinion on the result.”

“So you got a negative reading, and want to see if it could be positive?” Back to scribbling.

“Sort of. Except the opposite. But yes. That’s the idea. You can do that here, right ? I have my insurance card,” I said and held it up for proof.

She started to laugh. And not in the way a person laughs when they like you or think you have said something adorable. It was more like the way a person laughs when their high school nemesis hits the multi-million dollar lottery drawing. It was a scoff. And a little bit sinister too.

“Sign your name on that clipboard. I’ll call you up to fill out some more paperwork once I can pull myself together back here.”

So I did just that. I started to feel nervous. Maybe it was the uncaring way the waiting room chair held my body or the cackling award-winning-cursive-handwriting receptionist that had me on edge.

“Katie Poh, Poh, Pohlowski?”

“Poh – wall – skee… yes. Me. Yes?”

“Fill these out sugar.”

She handed me a clipboard with a few pages inquiring about my medical history, a privacy notice and something about agreeing to pay for things that my insurance refused. I started answering the questions on the pink pieces of paper.

When I got to the part asking for an emergency contact I hesitated. My mom was probably a poor choice in this instance. Plus, a person over a thousand miles away is not exactly reliable in the case of a true emergency. I didn’t know anyone at work well enough yet to list and certainly didn’t have phone numbers handy. I suppose there was the option of the father of my improbable child. But if this visit turned out to be a bad case of gas and asparagus overdose, I would hate for him to get a call about my sprained ankle in a year and have to say, “Who?” and look like a real jerk.

Brian Dole. Maybe it was dumb to scrawl the name of my recently ex-boyfriend who was not in any natural way possibly the father of my embryo – a man who had no clue I was even in this possible condition. But he would come in case of emergency. Rain, shine, pregnant, barren. He would come. He would stay through five surgeries if need be and eat bad hospital broccoli cheese soup while I was under anesthesia. He would show up and stay – at least until my mom hopped a flight from Chicago to Orlando and battled rush hour traffic on I-4 and outdated maps to rush to my hospital bedside. He wouldn’t come out of devotion or lovesickness or even obligation. Brian would come because he was just an emergency contact kind of guy.

Plus I knew Brian’s cell phone number by heart. Brian was the lucky emergency contact winner.

Mommy 101: How To Survive The Challenges Of Infertility

2012-02-26T19:02:00.000-05:00

The Mommy 101 posts are part of an occasional series in areas where we feel knowledgeable. Each mom brings her own set of life experiences to these posts and we hope that you can benefit from these tidbits. Read all of the posts in the Mommy 101 series here.

By Heather

Build an infertility support group in your life

Recently, I discussed the day I learned of my husband’s and my infertility. There are many things I’ve discovered over the years; it’s hard to say if they would have changed my path but for anyone who is new to this or still on their journey, maybe my words will make a difference. We can only try, right?

Here are a few things I wish I’d known in my family's struggle with infertility:

*Please note that there are many different levels of infertility. There are very complicated conditions that will require invasive procedures and I can’t even begin to relate to that type of struggle. My infertility is the type more commonly found among unsuspecting women: [mostly] unexplained infertility.*

Getting pregnant is only half the battle. For a full year, we drove ourselves crazy to conceive a child. And then it happened. We were on cloud nine. We celebrated. We told family. And then the floor came out from underneath us. I suffered a miscarriage. What? No, miscarriages only happen to people who get pregnant on their own. I used MEDICINE to conceive my child. He/she was guaranteed to me. Unfortunately, this heartbreak is extremely common. I’m not saying to worry yourself sick but don’t stop the prayers or finger crossing or whatever you’re doing as soon as you see those two lines. There’s much more to the journey and it’s not always good.

Find a doctor you trust. You do NOT have to stick with the specialist your gynecologist recommends. For six months, I worked with a high class, powerful doctor. His office was expensive, far away from where I lived and didn’t get me any closer to being a mom than when I started. Looking back, my husband and I both comment on how we were never truly comfortable with him. We constantly felt as if we weren’t good enough to be his patients or as if our infertility wasn’t a big deal compared to his more severe cases. I never ended up changing doctors myself and I often wonder how my journey would have been different if I had.

Do your own research. Do you know what your diagnosis is? We were originally told our infertility was caused by morphed sperm. In a second semen analysis, it was determined that everything was fine with my husband. The doctor continued treating me with medications saying simply that I wasn’t ovulating correctly. I didn’t find out my official diagnosis (PCOS) until several months AFTER countless visits and treatments. Don’t be afraid to ask questions.

Get your health under control. I’m not saying you won’t get pregnant if you are overweight or out of shape but I am telling you that if you find yourself unable to get pregnant on your own, look into some natural changes. Do a makeover on your diet and exercise routine. Some will view this as a waste of time and that’s understandable. No, it’s not guaranteed to get your pregnant but it’s not for nothing. Really, has anyone ever complained about being healthier?

Find Support. More than anything, I wish someone would have simply told me how valuable a support team was. I found a community of women close to my age, married around the same time, going through the same things. We were able to turn to each other for advice, to shed tears, and rejoice in the little triumphs of our journeys. These are women that I cherish still to this day. They live in all parts of the country but in this technological age, I feel like they are some of my best friends.

Weekly Poll: Parental Weekends

2012-02-25T22:03:00.000-05:00

By Katie

Weekends mean something different now that I'm a parent.

Photo via brandontoddwright.blogspot.com

In high school, weekends meant time to relax, sleep in, maybe work a few hours at a part-time job, and spend that part-time job money on frivolous pursuits like going to movies and bowling alleys. In college, weekends meant pretty much the same thing -- with the addition of very late nights out with friends and even later hours at the library on Sunday nights trying to finish my homework before classes the next morning.

Now that I'm a married mom of three, almost four, weekends mean waking up roughly the same time as the rest of the week (early), working a few hours every day (like the rest of the week), cleaning constantly and the addition of meticulously-planned grocery and household goods shopping trips (alone -- often with my iPod). Sometimes I rent a movie from Redbox. Usually my husband is off work unless he is scheduled to cover some pressing sporting event (state wresting last weekend; NBA All-Star basketball this weeked). On the nights that he's not here until late, I stretch out in our big bed diagonally and read a book. Or watch a guilty pleasure show that he would never enjoy like "Snapped" (which pretty much terrifies him).
Don't get me wrong. I still love the weekends. Perhaps even more now than ever. But if you would have asked five-years-ago me if the weekend I just described sounded like fun, I would have scowled.

So how do you view your weekends? Are Saturdays and Sundays roughly the same as the rest of the week to you, or do you look forward to them? Parents who work traditional M-F schedules -- do your days off really feel like days off?

Leave a comment and take our weekly poll (right-hand column). I'm interested to hear more.

Bracelet Winner Announced

2012-02-24T18:15:00.000-05:00

Congrats to Maureen M. of Sacramento, California. She is the winner of our spring bracelet giveaway!

Stay tuned for more contests in the coming months and check out the rest of what Pretty Colleen sells at her Etsy shop.

This one has Maureen's name on it, but it could be you next!

Prevent Toy Overpopulation With These Tips

2012-02-23T22:00:00.001-05:00

By Rachael

Toys. I’m convinced they reproduce at night when we’re not looking. How else could we end up with so many toys in our houses? Even the most clutter-averse moms struggle with toy overpopulation. Here are six strategies to prevent toys from overtaking your home:

Use a closet organizer for toys, via Bed Bath & Beyond

1. Ditch the toy box and store toys on shelves. Toy boxes are black holes. Kids forget what is buried at the bottom and never play with the stuff. Instead, toys should be easily visible. The most affordable option is to buy some durable plastic utility shelves. These work fine for playrooms. If you want to buy nicer shelves for a child’s bedroom, make sure they are deep enough to hold all the large toys. If your shelves are especially tall, consider bolting themto wall studs to avoid tipping accidents. If you still must have a toy box, make it a small one.

2. Keep toys in clear plastic boxes or tubs. Take inventory of playsets with multiple pieces like dollhouse furniture, blocks, or your daughter’s My Little Pony collection and buy clear plastic boxes with lids to fit each unique playset. Store the boxes on your shelves.

3. Think out of the (toy) box. You don’t always have to invest in pricey toy storage systems. Those canvas over-the-door shoe holders aren’t just for holding shoes. How about Barbie dolls or dinosaurs? Consider stashing toys in laundry hampers or plastic laundry baskets. Plastic Chinese takeout containers with lids are good for holding little toys, crayons, or play dough. Have an old unused recycling bin? Use it to hold outdoor toys like balls, bats, and Frisbees. If you’re really crafty, you can covercardboard boxes with fabric and turn them into toy bins.

4. Rotate toys. It’s amazing how quickly my daughter loses interest in her toys. Store some of them out of sight for a few months. When you bring them back out, they’ll have new appeal. You’ll also have less toy clutter around the house.

5. Teach your child to clean up, and provide consequences if she leaves things out. We’ve decided to focus on our 4-year-old daughter’s room. Just before bedtime, we set the timer for ten minutes and let her know it’s time to pick up her room. If she dawdles, anything left out when the timer goes off gets stored in a basement closet until the cleanup routine improves.

6. If all else fails, purge the toy collection. Be ruthless. Your child will not die of boredom. In fact, kids thrive on having fewer toys. Here’s a fantastic article about the benefits of weeding out the toy collection. Sell old toys at a garage sale, on Craigslist or eBay, or donate them. If your child protests, get rid of toys when she isn’t looking and she’ll probably never miss them.

The Last Six Boxes

2012-02-23T19:29:00.001-05:00

By Sally

I finally “woke up”. It was odd how the loss and depression had kept me in a mental fog.

I kept going to work, church, outings with friends and family. I functioned just fine. When people asked how I was doing I’d shrug, smile kind of, and say “better everyday” with a cheery lilt.

But I was numb. Simple tasks took longer, small frustrations got me angry quick. My job seemed so hard all of a sudden.

The whole family - less than four months before my Mom (second from left)
and my father-in-law (far right) passed away in September
Photo credit: Amy Straka Photography

Don’t get me wrong. I had a lot of support.... church, family, co-workers, neighbors, friends at Jazzercise, our group of “oldie-moldy" friends. But I had trouble focusing, sleeping, buying groceries. You name it.

I was walking around in a bubble. It was like the old Charlie Brown episodes where the adults all sounded like they were muted trumpets under water. The world was whirling around me and I was a spectator trying to figure how to climb back into life.

Then I needed to get some tax info from the basement and noticed those last 6 boxes. How did we miss them after the funeral? And then I remembered, they had never followed mom to her assisted living place. We had stored them here after she moved out of her house. They didn’t seem essential to her everyday life there. She had plenty of clothes, art supplies, towels, etc. So the boxes sat under the stairway in my laundry room.

Mom fell twice at the assisted living place -- once in her apartment, once in the dining room. After two trips to the hospital in a few short weeks, we knew she couldn’t return home to her apartment. She had to come home with me.

They said congestive heart failure was possibly her last battle, that Hospice would be there to help her (and us) through it all. My son’s fiancé and I cleaned out her apartment and brought everything to my home….along with her.

It’s a bit blurry now….amazing how one “functions” without really “being present.”

Just one day before we brought Mom here, another Hospice organization had cleaned out my father- in-law’s room.   About six weeks previous, my 91-year-old, strong as an ox, fierce caregiver of the children, grandchildren, and his remaining siblings (there had been 10, only 2 left now), began to be confused.   He took some falls, he was evaluated in the hospital and sent to a nursing home for “rehab”.

Basically, the facility just left him alone in the room.   We hired a caregiver to go into the nursing home to care for him – bathe him, feed him, be a companion.   Pretty much he just laid there, and couldn’t understand why he felt so bad. It broke his spirit. We brought him home, and the caregiver started coming to our home. She cared for him with love and dignity. My daughter-in-law and 4 year granddaughter came the days to help in-between her visits.   He died on 9/9/2011.

My daughter and granddaughter from Florida missed seeing him to say "good bye" by about two hours.   I wouldn’t let anyone tell her until I knew the plane had landed and she was in the car on her way to us.

My brother in law was also in flight that day and also missed him. We wouldn’t let Pops be taken from our home until the kids and grandkids had a chance to say goodbye.

Pops’ funeral was at the American Legion, complete with a 21-gun salute (a really hard moment), Polish food, a polka and lots of memories shared.

When he was alive, Pops often shared his war stories…never gruesome or sad….really funny stuff. He was stationed in the Philippines. I shared the stories at the funeral, and many of the American Legion buddies enjoyed them. Here are a couple of my favorites:

-- There was a tank that hadn’t run for quite a while.   The general told Pops to crawl in there and see if he could figure anything out.   He realized fairly quickly that all that was needed were 3 simple fuses.   But, he took his time in there. He eventually went and secured the 3 fuses, and voila….the tank ran.

-- He also described their barracks. There was one floor visible at ground level, and two floors dug into the ground. One night, a bunch of them went into town and stole a lot of beer from a local brewery. With a human conveyor belt, the beverages were stored in the lowest level. There was some questioning the next morning…but no one seemed to recall seeing any beer.

-- He also complained about an older general there who Pops felt was endangering the men with poor choices. “A chest full of medals and sh- - for brains," Pops would often say. One day, a Polish general was on the base, and Pops spoke to him in Polish, letting him know the concerns. The next day the “general in question” was transferred….to the relief of many soldiers.

-- Pops was among the forces that went into Japan after the atomic bombs were dropped.   He could not speak of it. If asked, his eyes would well up, and he’d say, “War is a terrible thing, honey.”

-- For the 40 years I knew him, he told me so many times, in so many situations, “Everything is going to be alright, honey.” I’ve trusted him on that one many times through the years. But I must say, it’s taken several months to get to “ok” this time (and I'm still not completely there).

So we moved Mom in on 9/13/2011.   She was gone by the 22^nd.

I’m sure the neighbors had to wonder when a hearse arrived at our home to retrieve two bodies within two weeks from the same house.

There is no way to explain what it’s like to watch your parents die. And yet, I would have never wanted them to be alone. They were here, and then with one last breath, they were gone. That’s that.

So, as I said, one Hospice agency moved out Pops’ stuff and another came the next day and moved Mom’s stuff in. Our sweet nursing assistant and our daughter-in-law/granddaughter combo picked up with mom where they had left off with Pops.

I really didn’t think she would leave so soon. She was on oxygen, she was using a walker to keep her balance, she was taking her meds, we were having good conversations. She wasn’t remembering much…wasn’t hungry…unhappy that she couldn’t go back to her apartment…asked the same questions over and over. I had to assure her several times that we had moved all of her belongings out of the apartment. She’d wake up in the middle of the night, thrashing about with the walker, completely lost.

And still, I didn’t think she was going to die.

Friends started dropping in. She still had a group of high school friends that she got together with monthly for lunch. They were showing up. Neighbors, Art League friends, church people, good friends from every walk of her life were showing up.

Yes, the Hospice people were showing up faithfully. Yes, she seemed weaker. I remember asking the Hospice nurse why mom was given morphine. Good Lord!!!

Darlene sweetly explained, “When someone’s heart is dying, it really hurts. Let’s save your mom that pain.”

Morphine!

She seemed really weak one evening, and a few of us got together. I called and our pastor came over.   He read her the 23^rd Psalm, and prayed with her. My visiting daughter got up at 3 a.m. to give mom a dose of the morphine.   That was mom’s last interaction with anyone on earth.

Note to those of you who aren’t medically minded. When I woke up the next morning, I went in to check on her.   My husband had left for work.   She seemed really still. I texted him to ask how one knows if someone is alive or not. In his infamous wisdom, he texted back….”put a piece of tissue in front of her nose and see if it moves.” Good Lord! I tried it. Inconclusive results.

I texted our wonderful nursing assistant and asked how to tell.   She said she’d be right over.  She flew into the driveway in her pajamas, slippers, and long blond hair in complete disarray in literally minutes.

My daughter, granddaughter and I sat quietly in the living room. The caregiver lingered for some time (in retrospect, I’m sure she knew mom had left, but she was trying to be kind). She came out and gently said, “Yes, your mom is gone.” And she followed up with, “When you’re trying to decide if someone is breathing, it helps to remove the oxygen tube first.”

We called the Hospice nurse who had to secure the morphine ASAP. And of course, the second funeral. My sisters, brother, their spouses, nieces, nephews were enroute. My friends were hovering. My boss and co-workers were concerned.

Mom loved our church, so we started the plans for a simple service…mostly family…guests able to visit prior to the service… a side room for the family to have a beverage or light snack if needed. Rather simple.

My nephew (a musician with a following in Texas) asked if he could sing at the funeral (he’s the first grandchild….always close to mom). Then our pastor found a really amazing video clip on the Internet that needed to be included in the service.   He reviewed his teaching…it was going to be great.

And then, our church family decided that they wanted to have a dinner for anyone who came. Ham, side dishes, desserts…the works. It was overwhelming.   But she was leaving an empty spot in all their hearts.

Also overwhelming was the mixture of guests at the funeral. My mom’s girlfriends from high school (they had met once a month for cards/lunch faithfully for years), neighbors, friends who had attended other churches with her, a judge whose parents had been great friends of mom and dad, past customers from the days they owned their restaurant and bar. It was incredible.

And then people began to share how important she had been to them. I was praying for her dear friend, Helen.   They had been through so much through the years….kids in school together, a shared loved of art…taking classes together to hone their skills…showing off their works at local festivals…going through very hard/challenging times of loss and illnesses within their families. As well as aging and losing their own parents, friends, family members. My mother’s paintings were precious gifts given to family and friends after her death. These were lovely treasures that we could all share.

I was humbled and broken. There had been times I was frustrated with mom. After the stroke, there were many confusing phone calls. Sometimes, the same call over and over again in a day. She would accuse people of taking things, and she was mad that we had moved her out of her home. Sometimes I would just shake and my head would pound because I was trying so hard to stay calm answering the same questions over and over….assuring her that she was safe and that no one was stealing from her. God bless the staff at her assisted living facility. No matter what she said or accused, they continued to call me to verify information, and treated her with the utmost kindness and concern.

And then she was gone. Those last days my pride and frustration was broken, and I realized how much she had done to support and help me through the years. I remembered my parents’ generous gifts to our kids. I remembered their help financially during some tough times we had faced.

I know I did everything I could to help her.   But I also felt guilt for the times I was angry, when I felt she could have helped me more in life, when my voice was tinged with frustration after she called me for the 3^rd or 4^th time about the same matter. And I felt so sad.

It took me two months to wake up from the fog of despair. I was visibly functioning at work, church, home. But I was lost somewhere in the darkness of my soul.

And then I found the last 6 boxes. There were things in there that mom had saved from her parents, and there were many more photo albums and loose pictures. I began to sort through the items, making packets for siblings, friends, cousins, my children. Slowly, I began to come back.

I could think more clearly; I began to sleep; I felt at peace again.

There is no specific moment tht the grief ends, or the self-doubt subsides. Did I do everything possible to help them? What did I miss? Did I honor them completely?

I have no profound words of wisdom to offer you if you are in the midst of a loss. It hurts; it's emotionally confusing. There is no specific moment that you are "ok." And even when you think you're "ok" something stings your soul and it hurts again.

But, I do know, that we need to send our loved ones away with peace and forgiveness. And i know that I did that.

Hold on to the good…release the anger…and give love where you can. Life is so short.

Thursday Three: Things Moms Should Give Up For Lent

2012-02-23T06:05:00.001-05:00

By Katie

Wednesday marked the official start of Lent and as a result, my Facebook and Twitter feeds were chock full of people declaring what they planned to "give up" for the seven-plus weeks leading up to Easter.

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I took my daughter on a date to Starbucks. Don't judge.

I saw people swearing off smoking, sugar, watching television and some even wondering publicly on these social media sites if they should give up social media (it doesn't appear that any of those people have). I myself could not think of anything to give up. I do not smoke, but I suppose there are some sugary snacks and television programs that I could get rid of for two months. And Facebook and Twitter? Don't go there.

I do not belong to a church that requires this practice, though in years past I have observed it simply because I think it is a good exercise in sacrifice and self-discipline. So I started thinking... are there any intangible things that I could cease doing for Lent? Better yet, are there any things that I could stop doing/thinking/saying permanently? I came up with a few that relate to my role as a Mom. Maybe these apply to you as well.

As Moms, we should really stop...

Comparing ourselves to other moms. It helps to have a support group that is always cheering you on in your endeavors as a parent and to block out the negativity. Most moms are actually pretty good at finding the right people for this support system. In fact, a mom's worst enemy is often herself. In every category from body image to kids' success at school, moms put the pressure on themselves to be "perfect." If not perfect, at least pretty darn good. The truth is that if we care enough to beat ourselves up over our choices, we care enough. We do not need to use other parents as measuring sticks for our own successes; We just need to be ourselves.

Resenting our kids and family lives. Yes, I did just go there. In general, I do not resent my daughter, stepchildren, being pregnant or being married. If I was speaking in surface terms, I would say that "I'm happy." There are moments, however subtle, when I feel some level of resentment. It's usually when I see the very same blanket that I folded three minutes earlier toppled back on the bedroom floor or have to pause my writing when I'm a roll because someone (could be any of three someones) is yelling through the house for me to come wipe their butt. I'm frustrated, if only for a moment, and then I feel guilty. I cannot control my emotions in every situation, but it doesn't hurt to remind myself from time to time that being a mom and wife are blessings in my life and that for every bad blanket or poopy butt moment, there are even more pretty sweet ones.

Judging others. This is sort of the flip-side of my first point. Watching my daughter's ballet class each week, I listen to a group of three moms who spend the hour discussing things about their other 'friends' that they do not like. I often wonder what the three say about each other when they are apart. Even as I'm writing this, I'm sensing my own tone of judgment regarding the way that these grown women -- these mothers -- behave. Parents are passionate about issues that relate to their kids and while there is nothing wrong with that, we should not have to cut down others to give ourselves clout. Our decisions should stand on their own and we should redirect any judgmental energy towards the real people that matter in our everyday lives.

I feel like I need a pulpit. Or at least a soapbox. Thanks for reading this far. Have a lovely Lent!

This Mom Needs A Hobby - What's Yours?

2012-02-23T05:21:00.002-05:00

By Maddie

I'd love to learn crochet, but may stick with sewing for now
Photo via Instructables.com

So ever since becoming a mom, I find myself severely lacking in the hobby department. When I first had my son, I was in college. Balancing a newborn and 15 credit hours didn't really leave time for a hobby. Now that I am settled into a full-time job with a normal schedule, I find myself getting bored in the evenings after my son has gone to bed (my husband works second shift and doesn't get home until midnight).

Shopping is my weekend hobby...but that is really, really expensive. And a girl can only have so many clothes.

I used to make jewelry, which is really fun! It is also quite expensive, though -- between the beads, wire, clasps, and tools.

I've thought about crochet. I may give it a shot soon. It's my understanding that it's not a terribly expensive start-up. I would like something that I can work on while sitting on the couch in my pajamas and watching 'Survivor.' I love seeing cool crochet projects on Pinterest.

For the time being, I think have settled on sewing. I purchased a used sewing machine from a friend at work. There is so much fun fabric and so many interesting patterns out there, I'm excited to get started. I'm going to try to teach myself by watching some YouTube videos and reading the sewing machine manual. I may invest in a class at a fabric store at some point.

So please, do share! I would love to hear what other moms do for a hobby.

Finding Sustainable, Healthy and Wallet-Friendly Fish

2012-02-22T18:22:00.002-05:00

By Elizabeth

Lent kicks off this week and tomorrow will be the first of seven Fridays that many people will commemorate by not eating meat. Whether or not you recognize the season in your home, you’ll notice that a lot of seafood goes on sale as a result.

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The season of the "fish fry" is here.
Photo via wbean.blogspot.com

Fish has numerous health benefits, and any dietitian will promote “more fish, less meat.” But, if you’re trying to balance health, economics, and ecological responsibility, the choices get a lot more complicated. For example, tuna is cheap, but the best cuts have high mercury levels, and the variety with the lowest mercury has the worst environmental record.

Then there’s the issue of wild vs. farmed. Which is better? (The answer: depends on the type of fish.) The last thing you want for Lent is an extra helping of guilt, so here are a few resources to help you.

First, how can you buy sustainable fish? Where do you get it? Here is a good article debunking “7 Myths of Sustainable Seafood,” written by a practicing nutritionist. Think that the fish behind the counter is always better than the stuff in the freezers? Think again.

So which fish should you buy? The Environmental Defense Fund has put together a handy pocket guide you can print up and take to the store. This guide lists popular fish alphabetically and lists specific varieties according to 3 categories: Eco-Best, Eco-Ok, and Eco-Worst. It also puts a heart next to those high in Omega-3’s and a warning red triangle next to those with high mercury levels (pregnant or new mamas, take note of those especially).

But what if you want more information or your tastes are more exotic than salmon or tilapia? (And why does no one talk about sustainable octopus?) The Monterrey Bay Aquarium website is a great resource for all things sustainable seafood, including a “search” function. Each type has a quick rating plus a longer segment that describes the fish, its history, and the current state of its population. They rank by “Best Choices,” “Good Alternatives,” and “Avoid.” You can also download a pocket guide from this website that is organized by region:

What about the budget issue? Rainbow trout is healthy and sustainable, and it’s my personal favorite, but it’s not cheap. One option is to stretch the seafood with breadcrumbs, making “burgers” or “cakes” instead of serving whole fillets. Or you can make a pasta or rice dish, with the “meat” as a flavoring. Tuna Alfredo, anyone?

But I think the best choice is to try new varieties in new ways. Don’t just stick to the usual salmon, tilapia, or tuna. Catfish—yes, catfish!—is a great alternative. It’s cheap, sustainable, American-made, and healthy. And the new farmed catfish does not have that intense “muddy” flavor like the stuff your grandpa used to catch in the family pond. Alton Brown dedicated an episode of “Good Eats” to the humble catfish, including 3 recipes that are linked in this informative article: Catfish Ceviche, Catfish Soup (a Thai-style dish), and of course, Southern Fried Catfish.

Ah, fried catfish. Happy Lent and happy eating, everyone!

Wordless Wednesday: Love Button

2012-02-21T20:03:00.000-05:00

Submitted by Maddie

Acting, Writing, Mommy-ing: Meet Heather Novak

2012-02-21T19:27:00.000-05:00

Hello readers.

Heather and Libby in the 'tiny red kitchen'

I am a motivational speaker, writer and actress.

When I give talks it is usually based on the grand mistakes I have made and what I have learned from them. Kind of a “don’t go into the basement!” brand of encouragement. To balance staying home with my girls I belong to and blog for a national moms group called “Mothers and More”, write personal commentaries for a local NPR radio station, and enjoy my own blog about living each day to the fullest through faith, food, laughter and haiku on my personal blog, Live Your Love Out Loud.

I have lived an adventurous life that started with moving around every few years during my childhood, dancing on top of my dresser to musical soundtracks and losing my mother when I was thirteen. I moved out on my own at eighteen living in Indiana, Chicago, Denver and coming home again to Indiana. My adult adventures include clubbing with movie stars, struggling for an acting career in Chicago and Los Angles and finally settling into property management for ten years as a consultant, marketer, sales and customer service trainer.

Romance was plentiful but shallow until I learned my value as a woman (thank you God!) and after three years of abstinence (another story) met my personal Prince Charming John online. He was everything I wanted and needed and we will have been married five years March 2012.
I am humbled by what a gift he is in my life.

I am now the frazzled mama of three year old Portia and one year old Libby. I am on occasion the kind of mother you would stare at, train-wreck style. Other times my girls and I are idyllic in aprons in our tiny red kitchen baking our snacks from scratch or at the dining room table crafting and covered in marker and glitter. I love mothering my girls even amidst the tough times. They break my heart so sweetly every day.

As an older mama I struggle between serving myself and these precious little people who won’t let me go to the bathroom alone. Or let me have a single conversation with my husband during a meal. I choose to be open with my failures in the hopes I can encourage other parents to be more comfortable with the reality that is family life.

When I get time to indulge myself I geocache, crochet, cook and eat too much. I like cheap wine and expensive beer, anything with sugar in it and really good cheese popcorn.

Talkin’ Bout A (Food) Revolution

2012-02-21T19:07:00.000-05:00

By Elizabeth

“Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants.” – Michael Pollan

Book cover via MichaelPollan.com

Food is a big deal around here. We love to cook; we watch cooking shows on TV; our idea of a date meal is to go to a high-end grocery store and buy expensive ingredients to make our own gourmet supper. So you would think that we wouldn’t fall into many of the nutritional pitfalls that plague most American families: fast food, overly processed food, grazing in front of the TV. Somehow we still struggle with those, and both my husband and I think that now is a good time for a change. (And of course we’d both like to lose a few pounds before the dreaded shorts/ swimsuit season arrives.)

Michael Pollan is a food writer and journalist who advocates a “back to basics” approach to nutrition. His book Food Rules is a quick list of wisdom that he’s compiled in his years of research into the connections between food and overall health. He has 64 rules total, but the book only takes an hour or two to read. Each of these rules falls into one of the three categories in the quote above: eat food, not too much, mostly plants.

As Pollan points out, saying “eat food” is not as simple as it sounds. We live in an age where science has largely replaced home cooking, and your great-grandmother would not recognize most of the items listed as ingredients on your Twinkie. Eating food means buying food with recognizable ingredients, cooking food at home instead of going through the drive-through, and avoiding food that “has the same name in every language.” That’s simple, but it’s not easy. If eating real food was effortless, we wouldn’t have microwavable meals, Pop-Tarts, and “meal replacement shakes.”

After reading through Food Rules, I announced to my husband that our family is going to stage a food revolution. We already sit down to a family supper every night, but my sons and I are going to do the same for breakfast and lunch, too, every day. We’re not going to graze in front of the TV, and any pre-packaged foods must pass the “great-grandmother” test. The penny-pincher in me is not willing to purge my fridge and pantry of all margarine, salad dressings, etc. but it’s a rule that I’ll follow from now on.

Part of this journey will be revising some of my cooking strategies, too. I’ll share those strategies, recipes, and ideas with you as I go. And I’d love to hear tips on how to do this while following a reasonable budget. The only reason I ever buy margarine (for example) is that it’s cheaper than butter, so sticking to my goals and my budget will be a challenge. Let the challenge begin!

It's Probably Time To Go See The Grandkids

2012-02-20T20:00:00.000-05:00

By Sally

This is Ricky -- my granddaughter's point of comparison

My daughter sent me a text today that my soon-to-be 4-year-old granddaughter confidently told her that, “Grandma Sally is taller than Ricky”.

This may seem innocent, but it flooded me with guilt.

Oh dear, it’s been too long since I’ve seen the grandkids….they are looking for memory pegs to locate me in their brains.

It is tough being a Grandma who lives near Chicago, with three (soon to be four) grandkids living near Orlando. Thus is the way of American life.

Oh, and by the way, Ricky is their dog.

At first, it was just so funny. Ricky is a bundle of gray/black fur. He has those wonderful eyes that are always saying, “You know you love me…please love me…I will be the best doggie in the world if you will just love me.”

He is also on Prozac. Having been somewhat co-dependent here and there in my life, I have always found Ricky to be a great companion, although a bit “over the top” at times.

And yes, I am taller.

I remember when both sets of my grandparents retired and moved to Florida for the cold months. I remember missing them, and feeling a sense of emptiness at times. Even now after they have been long gone from this earth, I look into my heart and into their faces in old pictures and cry a little.

I had the best grandparents to ever walk the earth. Maybe this was only in my eyes, but it was true.

And now, I have three, almost four, grandchildren living in Florida (drat that sunshine and warmth).

I will be heading down in a couple of months for the new baby’s arrival. I will take the three older ones to the playground by the ocean, I will play Wii with them (if I can figure it out), I will snuggle and cuddle and weep my heart out when I leave.

I will leave my mark of love in their souls…just like my grandparents did for me. Long after Ricky and I are no longer measuring sticks for my granddaughter’s memory, my love will linger.

I am now heading over to see my “in town” granddaughter and give her several more hugs than usual.

A Peek At Infertility: Are They Natural??

2012-02-20T19:30:00.000-05:00

By Heather

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Photo via Ivfjournal.wordpress.com

Infertility is a very delicate topic. I’m going to do my best to describe it from my point of view. There is no way I can relate to every woman who has suffered. I can only speak of what I know.

A part of me has long moved on from my infertility (it’s hard to convince people of my experience when I have three beautiful children, including a set of twins!) but lately, it’s been coming up more and more often. As a mom of twins, I’m often asked the most absurd questions by complete strangers. (I promise to post more on this one day. It’ll be a good laugh!)

One very common question is, “Are they natural?” I understand the context of the question. They basically want to know if the twins were created from infertility treatments, but the wording of the question pains me.

Are they natural? You wouldn’t ask this about just one baby, would you? And yet so many babies are not “natural” in respect to this question. Well, I’m here to tell you that every baby, yes every single one, no matter how that baby was created or what it took to get that baby here happy and healthy, is natural!

I’m honored to get the opportunity to spread information about infertility to the readers out there. So many people have no idea what it’s like. And so many others simply feel relieved to have someone understand. Today, I’ll talk about the day we found out about our infertility.

In early 2007, I saw my OB for a normal annual exam. It was at that time that I confessed to her that we’d been trying to get pregnant. I cried as I told her it’d been 4 months and that I just didn’t know what I was doing wrong. She gave me a generic statistic about how women coming off of birth control could take up to two years to get pregnant but to reassure me that nothing was wrong, she did some ultrasounds and ran some blood work. She also had my husband provide a semen sample. About two weeks later, while at work, I received a phone call that will forever be implanted in my memory. The nurse was emotionless and said simply, “Based on the results of your tests, we are no longer able to treat you. You will not be able to get pregnant on your own. We’re referring you to Dr. _____ and have made an appointment for you to take place on…” It was about this time that I was crumpled on the floor behind the teller line, trying to not make a scene but what else was I to do? The nurse said very little else. She gave me the information for a reproductive endocrinologist (infertility specialist), specified that it was my husband’s results causing the concern, but rather than having any answers to my questions, she simply kept repeating that I needed to go to this follow up appointment and go from there.

I cried. I couldn’t move. My boss told me to take a minute to gather myself together and I looked at her like she had just stabbed me in the stomach. Take a minute? I was just told that I could never have children on my own. I grabbed my purse and keys and simply told her I was leaving. I said I’d be back as soon as I could but that I just needed to leave. I drove the 15 minutes or so to see my mom at work. I screamed while I was driving. I was crying so hard, the tears were blocking my vision. It sounds like a scene from a horror movie but it was my reality. And it’s the reality for millions of women around the world.

I went back to work an hour or so later. I was numb as I finished my shift. I just kept playing the conversation over and over in my mind. But more than anything, I simply couldn’t figure out how to tell my husband. There was no way I was doing it over the phone so I just kept working. That night when I got home, I sat him down on the bed. I took his hand and I just said it. “Honey, we can’t get pregnant.” I went on to describe the activity from that day. I don’t even remember my words, I simply remember his eyes. They went blank and tears slowly started rolling down his cheek. The only part of that conversation I remember is when he asked me if I was leaving him. He knew how much I wanted to be a mom and was devastated to learn that he was keeping me from my dream. And it was at that moment that I realized that being a mother wasn’t as important as having that man by my side. I knew we could get through anything. It was a hard several years (which I’ll write more about over time) but we did survive. If you’ve recently experienced the horrific day I described above, just know that you too, will survive.

Part-Time Professor, Full-Time Mom: Meet Elizabeth

2012-02-19T19:30:00.000-05:00

Hello!

Newborn Lucas and I

My name is Elizabeth, and I’m excited to join Mumbling Mommy. I’m at home with my boys, Jonathan (b. 2007) and Lucas (b. 2010). I also teach 1 - 2 Humanities classes per semester at a local university and run a women’s Bible study at my church. It’s a good thing that I like to be busy and that I don’t obsess about housework.

I grew up in the St. Louis area, though I also lived in Oklahoma and Maryland as a child. I married my college sweetheart in 2000, and we moved to Dallas in 2001. We lived there until after our second child was born and came back to St. Louis in the fall of 2010. We’re still adjusting to this thing called “winter,” but we’re happy to be near our families again.

Much of my time in Dallas was spent in graduate school at the University of Texas at Dallas. The program is interdisciplinary, so even though my main area was literature, I also studied art, history, and philosophy. It was a lot of fun, but after I finished my Ph.D. exams, I was burned out and not ready to work on a dissertation. Shortly after that I found out I was pregnant with Jonathan. I decided to focus on motherhood instead of academics “for a while.” That was in early 2007, so “taking a semester or two off” has turned into 5 years! I have taught part time ever since, and it’s a wonderful vocation. I also love being at home with the boys, so I don’t know if I will ever go back full time or just keep working part time. One year at a time!

My husband and I have a laid-back, attachment-style approach to parenting. We were together for such a long time before having kids that we had already had many long discussions about what kind of parents we wanted to be. We love the adventure and challenges of parenting, and we especially love discovering each child’s unique characteristics.

Sous chef Jonathan

As a family, we enjoy spending time outdoors, going on road trips, gardening, visiting the zoo or botanical gardens, or checking out the local museums. We also love to cook together. Jonathan has already declared that he wants to be “either a chef or a baker” when he grows up. He’s my go-to kitchen assistant, and he’s already showing his brother the ropes.

I admit I’m new to blogging, but I’m excited to share ideas, thoughts, and especially recipes with you. Plus, this gives me one reason to procrastinate on laundry...