3 Years

Dear North,

This blog went on a brief hiatus through the winter when work got the best of me. It's been a hard six months trying to maintain a balance between my work life and home life. There are days months when I want to escape with you and your dad and live off the land in a tiny cabin by a lake. As much as I enjoy all that modern life and technology have made possible, there is also a price that we pay for such conveniences. Unplugging from it is not so easy when you have to plug back in tomorrow.

But anyway, getting back to the balance is my greatest challenge, which is often made easier with the advent of Spring.  The early blooming flowers and first buds opening on trees will always remind me of your birth.  I will always remember that last waddle around the neighborhood I took the day before you were born to try to initiate labor.  A warm gusty wind enveloped us as we strolled the streets on our way to nowhere in particular.  It was a relaxing way to close the chapter in my journey and start the new one called motherhood.
 
I often tell you about how you used to live in my belly before you were born.  At first, you looked at me sideways insisting that I was trying to trick you.  Pregnancy is a weird thing, I don't blame you for being suspicious.

You've been with us for three years now.  You are one of the funniest, stubbornest, sweetest boys I have ever known.  We have actual conversations now. 

"Talk to me." you will say, as we lounge in chairs on the back deck.

"Ok.  Why don't you tell me about what you would like to do when you get bigger?"  I say, knowing this is one of your favorite things to talk about.

"I want to ride in a rocket ship to Nanny and Poppy's house when I get bigger!" you exclaim.

I've learned that you have some bold goals on your bucket list.  But I have some bad news.  You will never be able to ride a rocket ship to Nanny and Poppy's house.  They don't have a rocket ship landing pad, so there would be no place to park.

All Good Doggies go to Heaven

Dear North,

I took the week between Christmas and New Years off this year, which is a first. It's been a wonderful time, especially with you so little and so tuned into the magic of the season.

After we spent some time down by the creek today, we were walking our way back up the steep hill. Your little legs quickly tired out and you asked to be carried. I couldn't accommodate considering the mud caked onto your crocs and the items I was already carrying. But I gave you the same manta I often tell myself on the way back up the hill dragging a load of yard waste behind me when I feel like I can't take another step.

"Mommy can't pick you up right now, but let's just keep walking to the smiling tree right there." I told you.

You seemed content with that and kept on step by step until we made our way to the almost redwood sized tree that sprouts out of the forest bed and towers high above our house. A few years back, as your dad and I hacked our way back through the vines and weeds to gain access to the creek below, we took some odds and ends pieces of wood and nailed them to the huge tree trunk in the shape of a smiley face. It's been a halfway resting point between the house and creek ever since. When our dog, Jake, passed we decided the smiling tree was a fitting place to lay him for eternity.

I mentioned how I wanted to put a bench to mark the spot, since it always seemed we stopped right there to catch our breath and visit Jake's grave.

"Do you remember Jake, the big white doggy?" I asked.

"Yes," you confirmed in your high pitched voice I wish I could bottle up forever. "Where Jake go?" you asked looking around.

"He's under the ground now, but we can still say hi to him here whenever you want." I attempted to explain without getting into the morbid subject of death.

"Here mommy, hold stick," you ordered and I obliged taking your walking stick from you to free up both your hands.

"What are you doing?"

"I find Jake!" you squealed with determination as you kicked fallen leaves out of the way to reveal the puppy you thought was hiding beneath.

Oh North, I wish it was that easy.

Merry Christmas!

I'm not complaining that it's 65 degrees as I write this, but it makes dreaming of a white Christmas more of a reality this year. Let's hope it happens! And then let's hope it melts quickly the next day.

I want to point out the I do not always look quite so pink as I do in this photo. Truth be told, I had applied a Pepto Bismol mask to my face a few hours before this photo was taken. I had been making Christmas crafts and decided to watch Dr. Oz at the same time. I had never watched the show before, but got sucked in by the "Beauty Tips You Can Find in Your Pantry" theme for the day. The Pepto Bismol mask was his breakthrough fix for dull skin.

I said to myself, "My skin feels dull. I fell dull. I have pepto in the house. LET'S DO THIS!"

I gave it a whirl and thought it felt tingly. But it wasn't until this card was photochopped and I was able to compare my skin tone to that of a normal elf, when I realized to Dr. Oz, having nice skin means making it pink. So there you have it, do not apply Pepto Bismol to your face. Merry Christmas!

Pumpkin Muffins

Our Thanksgiving with family got cancelled this morning, when North woke up with a fever of 102. The first few hours, we spent on the couch, trying to get him to eat or drink something. The poor guy even let his special ice cream breakfast turn to soup. It was disturbing. I didn't know who he was anymore.

Eventually, the tylenol kicked in and he started acting like himself. By the time I got back from the grocery store, he was asking to make pumpkin muffins. So we did and I was happy to see him wolf down two big ones in a row. The kid is on the mend for sure.

Pumpkin Muffins

1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup wheat flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 cup fresh or canned solid-pack pumpkin
1/3 cup vegetable oil*
2 large eggs
3/4 cup white sugar sugar
1/3 cup brown sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ginger
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon cinnamon sugar for sprinkling

Preheat oven to 350°F. Spray muffin tin with oil.

In medium bowl, combine flours & baking powder.

Whisk together pumpkin, oil, eggs, sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, baking soda, and salt in a large bowl until smooth, then whisk in flour mixture until just combined.

Divide batter among muffin cups, then sprinkle tops with cinnamon-sugar mixture.

Bake until puffed and golden brown and wooden pick or skewer inserted into the center of a muffin comes out clean, 20 to 25 minutes. Cool 5 minutes.

2 Years 7 Months

Dear North,

Unfortunately, Halloween was a bit of a bust this year. I had high hopes of taking you to a few of the neighbors houses to trick or treat. But it was too cold and rainy, so you had to spin your spider webs inside. Plus, we had two pounds of Snickers and Twix to give out, so it seemed silly to go out in the cold wet night for the sake of candy that was less awesome than what we already had. Strategy North, that's what trick or treating is all about. So you spent the whole night dressed as a spider, with chocolate drool covering your face.

We've been taking advantage of the warm nights, even though it's been darker earlier. Lately, you wake up from your nap just as dusk sets in, which confuses you into thinking it's still morning. Once you regain your bearings, you immediately start demanding to take a walk and get the flashlight. Walking with you at night when we let you light the path is much like giving a squirrel a flashlight I suspect.

We've have many sweet memories with you from this fall. Often, you want to look out the window with us and whisper all of the different colors on the trees. Sometimes, while we sit there looking at all the colors and listening to the birds, you sigh the most wonderful, tiny sigh in the world. It's a such a quiet peaceful moment. All the meditation in the world couldn't bring me to a more mindful and present place than your simple sigh can.

Sausage squash soup with rosemary

My in-laws brought us a hefty haul of apples, squashes and cabbage back from New York yesterday, which translated to lots of delicious smells in the kitchen today. I've made squash soups before that were good, but became boring or too sweet after a few bites. So I thought it might be interesting to process the squash and broth into a nice creamy texture, but then add some sausage, onion and potato for a more chunky texture. The results were a success, even if a bit labor intensive and left behind a sink full of dirty dishes.

4 lbs. squash (butternut or acorn)

1 lb. bass farm hot sausage (or similar ground sausage)

3 small-medium yukon gold potatoes, cubed bite-size

1 onion, diced

3-4 cloves garlic

32 oz. chicken broth

1 sprig fresh rosemary (3-4 inches?)

1/2 tsp. thyme

Preheat oven 400 degrees.

Half squash & seed. Place squash flesh side up in shallow baking dish with 1 inch of water in bottom. Rub 1 tablespoon of butter over squash and sprinkle with rosemary, salt and pepper. Bake 30-40 minutes or until tender. Set aside.

Cook sausage and drain fat. Add onion, garlic, rosemary, potatoes and saute 10-15 minutes or until potatoes are tender. Set aside.

In large pot, add chicken broth, thyme and softened squash, heat through. Process in blender, in batches and pour pureed squash back into pot. Add sausage mixture to pot and allow to reheat 10-15 minutes. Serves 5-7

2 Years 6 Months

Dear North,

You are still making music out of trash. At this rate, I might start to paint you blue and market you as a Baby Blue Man. But I love hearing you make music out of thin air. If you're not banging on something, you're singing into a makeshift microphone. I'm not sure where you learned the microphone part from. So I'll just say you were born to rock. It will be interesting to see your musical inclination, especially considering how many instruments we have in the house.

Another example of your vocal ability. Kid, you can wail.

Then there are moments when you are just a lovely weirdo. You delight in making someone laugh, often at the expense of your own eye balls. You may notice in this video that you pronounce your name "Dorothy". Maybe this is your stage name? But the only time I can get you to pronounce the "N" is if you use a deep southern drawl to say it, "Noa-thy". It is equally hilarious.

It strikes me in all of the videos from this summer, that you are never wearing pants. Some days, it even took too much effort to put a shirt on you and so we let you run around like a hammer-wielding diaper-clad savage. Maybe I should be more embarrassed about this.