Veggies Wrapped in Rice Paper

Veggies wrapped in rice paper is a great fun way to eat vegetables. Ian loves them! They are also a nice alternative to salad. The vegetables can be varied but I'll give the recipe for my favorite wraps. A friend of mine likes to use broccoli slaw mix to save on prep time. I find them a little too crunchy that way. Feel free to experiment.

I use zucchini and carrot as the main filler. These need to be sliced in long threads. You can use a knife to thinly julienne them. I use a julienne tool. It looks like a vegetable peeler and costs about $10. It shreds the veggies nice and thin which is important to the texture of the wraps.

The other specialty item you'll need is the rice paper wrappers.

These can sometimes be found in a regular grocery store and always in an Asian market. They are crisp and shaped like a tortilla.

Vegetable Wraps

Julienne about 4 medium zucchini and 2 carrots

Dice 3 scallions and a handful of cilantro

~6-8 rice paper wraps

Take 1 wrap and place in a pan of hot water for about 20 seconds. As soon as it is pliable, remove and place on a towel. Place a scoop of vegetables at one end and sprinkle with herbs. Then roll up like a burrito. The ends will stick together and you'll have an adorable veggie-licious snack size wrap.

Place on a plate and repeat You should get 6-8 depending on the size rice paper you are using.

These are best served fresh. IF you must make ahead I would store them at room temperature covered with a damp towel, otherwise the rice paper will dry out and not give the chewy texture that makes these so yummy with the crunchy vegetables.

Dipping Sauce

You can simply dip these in soy sauce. My favorite brand is raw, fermented Nama Shoyu. (It also happens to be the highest rated dipping soy sauce by Cook's Illustrated.) It has a nice flavor and is not too salty.

Our sauce of choice is an asian peanut style sauce that is made with almond butter. Raw or roasted almond butter works. This recipe comes from The Raw Food Detox Diet by Natalia Rose. I think its the #1 culinary contribution of this book, so yummy!

1 cup raw and creamy almond butter (For the budget conscious, the best place to get this is Trader Joe's)
2 tablespoons fresh ginger
1/2 cup water (to thin)
4 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1/4 cup maple syrup
3 tablespoons Nama Shoyu
4 teaspoons sesame oil
2 to 3 cloves garlic, peeled
1/2 jalapeño pepper or a dash of cayenne

Blend all ingredients at high speed until smooth.

This makes about 2 cups, so I usually halve it. This sauce is great over noodles or just as a dip for carrot sticks.

Ian's Bedtime Prayer

A while back Ian started waking up in the night from bad dreams. As a simple way to help him set his intention for a peaceful night, I suggested that he pray. At first I helped him but over time he has come up with his own take on things. It's very sweet to hear him say his prayer every night on his own. And he's never woken from a bad dream since!

Holy Spirit*

Please help me to have happy dreams

Make sure the night is short

Take care of all the people I love

Amen

Have Fun!

Bye

* I generally direct prayerful thoughts to the Holy Spirit as a representation of the non-ego mind. Giving up what I don't know to that which is greater than me. Experience has shown me that when I step out of the way by handing the problem over to the Holy Spirit, I am guided to a loving place/decision/idea that was not apparent before. The path I was searching for is suddenly and clearly illuminated.

My simple prayer that has evolved from something a yoga teacher has taught is:

Holy Spirit

Please (help me to understand/show me the way/find peace with) ......

Because I don't know.

Vampire Repellant Pizza

aka The 50 Garlic Clove Pizza

Last night, Evan's months-long dream finally materialized in this pizza. I had my doubts, but honestly it might have been the best pizza we've ever made. It goes without saying that anyone who plans on kissing anyone else in the house should be on board with eating it. Your house will smell, maybe for days, as will your person. I honestly feel sorry for the people who will be practicing yoga next to Evan this morning. We will be opening windows today to air out.

As with many of my culinary successes, this pizza's life started

with a Cook's Illustrated consultation. In this case, the crust and the basic sauce were taken from their Thin-Crust Pizza recipe.

There are two biggest contributions to pizza-dom it offers is a dough that ferments for 3 days and the cooking technique that involves moving the baking stone to the top shelf of the oven set at the highest temperature. But any favorite crust recipe would work.

Evan started separating the garlic on Friday and sort of overdid it, ending up with 106 cloves that filled a 4 cup measure. As much as he wanted to try to use them all, I think 50 is about the right number as too much more weight on the crust would have resulted in topping overload and a flimsy base. As part of the deal for me to make this, Evan and Ian were in charge of garlic peeling.

I put about 12 crushed cloves into a half cup portion of the basic sauce.

I roasted 2 dozen, working half of those into the dough as I rolled it. I would skip this step next time because it compromised the dough's integrity and didn't add anything flavor-wise. The remainder of the roasted garlic was put on top of the pizza that had already been covered with sauce, grated parmesan, and homemade mozzarella. Using roasted cloves was critical to forcing in every flavor of garlic possible. It really made a difference in the end product.

Using an neat little tool I picked up from Pampered Chef, the remaining cloves were sliced into paper thin wisps. Some of these were placed on top of the pizza in their raw state. Next, the pie was placed in the screaming hot oven to bake.

I sauteed the remainder of the paper thin garlic VERY gently in roasted garlic infused olive oil (just because I happened to have it to use up, regular olive oil would have sufficed.) I salted moderately at the sautee step and at the end. In order to taste the garlic, there must be salt.

After the garlic had turned a very slight golden color I drained it and patted

it dry. This left me with slightly crunchy, slightly sweet little garlic crisps that I topped the pizza with when it emerged from the oven. I gave it a sprinkle of basil and the 50 garlic pizza was done. It was even better with bit of crushed red pepper flake. The garlic was prominent but not burning or raw while covering the full spectrum of flavor. Anyone who really enjoys garlic will love it, as will anyone who really doesn't like other people standing too close.

I also made a regular mushroom/pepper pizza as well as a Gluten Free one using almond flour. The GF was okay, but honestly some things just can't be done justice without wheat and pizza crust is one of them.

Mozzarella!

I am so ridiculously excited that I just made my own mozzarella. I finally got around to reading Animal, Vegetable, Miracle (Barbara Kingslover) which has been on my book list for a long time. It's interesting, and while I thoroughly respect her 1 year local eating adventure, I simply couldn't live without fresh produce in the winter. But she inspired me, not only to focus more on buying local ingredients when possible, but also to make cheese. That process had been simmering in the back of my mind for a while, but it seemed now was the time to try it. In typical Renee fashion, aka impulsive, I ordered a $70 cheese making kit from the The New England Cheesemaking Supply Company. With dreams of aging my own cheddar, I chatted about how I was embarking on this new culinary adventure with my friend Naomi (bread baker extraordinaire) who promptly tossed me her leftover rennet and citric acid from her brief interest in the activity. Excitedly I began reading Home Cheesemaking book and quickly became intimidated. The process sounded daunting, with lots of caring for cultures and other unfamiliar things. I lost my nerve. I contemplated it for 2 days and decided to return the kit for a full refund. Now was not the time for me to receive the lesson of cheese-making. I would try the simplest cheese, mozzarella. Judging from the plethora of failures I read about online I figured that cheese alone would take several attempts to master.

I picked up a gallon of raw milk from the local farm. Armed with my donated rennet and citric acid, I followed simple online instructions for making the mozzarella.

It started with adding the acid, gently heating the milk, then removing from the heat and adding the rennet. This is the time it forms a curd. Mine looked different than the picture in the instructions. More lumpy like cottage cheese, hers looked smooth like pudding. Right here I thought I was going to be throwing out the batch. But I pressed on...

See, my curds looked scary BUT reminiscent of mozzarella so I kept the hope alive.

I drained my curd and then for kicks because my goal was shred-worthy mozzarella, I squeezed as much water out as possible while waiting for some clean water to boil.

Now here is the fun part because its like playing with grown-up playdough. Armed with rubber gloves, you submerge the ball of curds into 175 degree water and work it in and the stuff starts getting soft. At this time you pull it and knead it like bread until it becomes smooth and elastic. Re-dipping it in the hot water when it needs to be loosened.

And then you get.....

A beautiful 12 oz braid (or ball) of shiny mozzarella. Right before the last stretch and shape I added a tsp of sea salt to work into it. So now it is happily soaking in a salty whey brine in the fridge as it awaits its final destiny as the topping of Evan's 50 (or 104) garlic clove pizza tonight. It was so fun, easy, and satisfying to make. Now maybe I need to go re-order that advanced cheesemaking kit....

Coconut Lime Tart

This was an experimental mish mosh of two recipes plus my own ideas with pretty nice results for a 'not-too-sweet' gluten-free dessert. I chose to change the lemon curd recipe to lime to follow a mexi-cali inspired dinner of spicy Tortilla soup and a California chopped salad with grilled shrimp. Probably would have made more sense to take a picture of the pie before I cut it, but didn't think of it.

Crust:

Pre-heat oven to 350.

In food processor combine:

3/4 cup of blanched almond flour

1/4 tsp salt

3/4 cup unsweetened shredded coconut

Pulse to combine.

Gentle melt over low heat:

1/4 cup coconut oil

Then mix the coconut oil with

1 TBSP agave nectar and

1 tsp vanilla extract.*

If the mixture seems too oily you could add more flour. Either almond, or if you have it coconut flour to get it to a press-able texture, much like a wet graham cracker crust mix.

Then press into a tart or pie pan. Bake until golden about 7-12 minutes. Then cool.

Filling:

In a double boiler over gently simmering water place:

6 TBSP butter

1/2 cup honey

When well combine mix in:

4 large eggs, beaten, stirring constantly.

Then add:

1/2 cup lime juice (about 4)

Grated zest from 4 limes

Continue stirring until mixture thickens and coats the back of a spoon. (like when making pudding). This can take up to 30 minutes.

Pour filling into crust and chill.

Garnish with fresh whipped cream.

*I just started making my own vanilla extract by placing 6 vanilla beans in a quart of vodka and letting it steep for a month. Theoretically this can be kept going indefinitely by adding more beans and vodka.

So much love

Ian has discovered a wealth of new found love for me in the last few days. As flattered as I am by the complexity of my little Oedipus, it has manifested in a few choice quotes. He has often addressed me as "sweet beautiful mommy" when he wants something, specifically when my first answer to his request was negative. Combine this with his tendency to abbreviate everything and I often get called "Sweet beauty" or, my favorite, "sweets".

Sunday I hear from the bathroom...

"Come check my bum sweets!" (When he says, "Get me a drink sweets?" I sort of feel like a diner waitress. But when used to beckon me to inspect for poo remnants, I am not really sure what I feel about that.)

Today on the ride home he was addressing me as "Sweet beauty" and I asked him why.

His response:
"Because you are sweet and beautiful. And you get me food." (Mommy Dearest?)

Followed up with a testament as to the extent of his love for me.

"I love you as big as the WHOLE world and all of Florida." ( That's alot! Considering my mommy resume includes ensuring proper bathroom hygiene and providing of sustenance, I think its just the right amount.)

iPeace

We decided to get Ian his own iPod. By that I mean an MP3 playing device that he calls an iPOD in the same way we call all tissues Kleenex.

It's been less than 12 hours since we gave it to him, and maybe I am speaking a little too soon but, YAY. We've had some of the quietest car time in 4 years.

Except for when he speaks. Because he does not yet understand that because there is noise in his ears, he is shouting when he talks. But I'll take it.

Ahhhhh, the sound of silence (in the car....)

Shhhh....Be Quiet In There

The second section of Eat, Pray, Love finds the author in an ashram in India where she has gone to find G*d. Daily spiritual devotional practice that commenced at 3:30 am was part of her journey to delve deeper into spiritual practice in order to ascend to a higher level of understanding of G*d and herself. This section gave me a lot to consider, most of which that while I want to travel Europe the notion of someday going to India to spend some time deepening my understanding of life is now also very appealing. Plus, I'd do just about anything if I could learn how to get the incessant voice in my head to just shut up once in a while...

The whole reason I write this blog is so that I have someplace healthy to purge the cyclone of thoughts and ideas constantly swirling in my head in hopes that by this emetic effort I can have five minutes of peace. Maybe someone, somewhere might find something in what I write that resonates for them and helps in someway, sort of like how those dandelion puff balls just demand for children to blow them when the wind doesn't. My little ideas can spread like those seeds and at least give them a chance to germinate in the fertile soil of someone else's mind. This is one of the ways I am nudged in new directions. Its kind of a cool idea that when I read something written by a person, who in practical terms is a stranger, launches me on a new trajectory of possibilities. I say a "practical" stranger but at the same time I feel that underlying connection that we all have as the little cilia-like human projections sprung forth into Being from the same source. How much of a stranger can any of us be with that much in common? So anyway, I throw all this mind chatter dialogue out into the cosmos and it is my pure intent that it be useful somehow.

Herein lies my spiritual journey. Since my brain, or ego, never stops yapping for 5 consecutive seconds it is my purpose in life reign it in. One of the only times it does this is when I am cooking. Which may explain why 50% of my waking hours are spent in a 12 square foot space of my kitchen. Why my family calls that room a restaurant, and why I tend to make elaborate, time consuming dishes as well as most condiments all from scratch. Yes it is also because I get to use the best quality ingredients and control exactly what is in our diet, but really it is nourishment for my spirit to get some solitude from the loquacity of that inner voice.

My mind seems to need something to do all the time. There are list-making people in this world and there are non-list making people. I am non-list making person and I realize now that by not making lists I am giving my brain something to entertain itself, much like giving a dog a chew toy. It likes its chatter to be front and center making the spiritual task of "living in the present moment" that much more of a challenge. So to occupy it I give it the grocery list and let it try to remember that.

The time has come for me to find some other ways to obtain this inner sanctity that does not involve driving out to the farm to get raw, pastured milk or to the co-op to collect my whole grains, or to the farmer's market for local produce and grass fed meats. Not that I am giving up those things, but I need practice at the practice of quieting that voice. And so my intention finally manifested in the Baptiste Yoga I began attending.

I've always been envious of people who find meditative calm in exercise. Some people run. I wish, oh how I wish, I enjoyed running. I don't. It's mostly torture until its over for me. And while yes I don't enjoy the physical sensation of running, especially on pavement, the real reason I don't like it is that it doesn't make the voice stop talking. I can think about everything while I run, even with music blaring in my ears. From what's for dinner, to making mental lists, to repertorizing a homeopathy case, and to worrying about some past or future event while I run and I don't want that. I want silence. I want focus. Please, for the love of all that is good, please SHUT UP IN THERE.

Because the vigorous yoga engages my mind, I find peace there. I have to be so totally focused on what I am doing that my ego mind steps aside as I flow between a one power-giving gumby like pose to the next with occasional collapses into child's pose as I try not to pass out or throw up. During the final savasana, I am often overwhelmed as whatever emotional backlog that remains after sweating every drop of liquid from my body is purged and then I am united with the others in that glorious harmonic OM. There is no room for chatter and then after an hour and a half of this relative solitude, I find bliss. Quiet, in-the-moment-bliss has been finding its way into more and more of my day outside of class. As I am learning to control that beast within, my energy is shifting. I find myself smiling more, engaging in conversation with strangers more, and most importantly having patience and enjoying Ian more. One line in Eat Pray Love suggests to serve G*d is very simple. Just notice who you love and every loving act you bestow on that person is in service to Him. Because they are Him. I always knew that mothering was G*d's work, but reading it this way helped cement that idea. I am serving my inner fountain of peace and nurturing my spirit when I am making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or folding underwear. Who knew? It helps to find meaning in the menial.

So in the book, when Liz traveled to India in search of G*d and so graciously decided to write about it openly, I was given these revelations. They came to me at 5:30 in the morning, were hastily scribbled out in a nearby notebook, and consequently transcribed here for whomever or no one on earth to read. Now that everything my mind had to say before dawn has been released to the universe maybe it will take a break for a bit so I can be present for the rest of my day.

In Pursuit of Pleasure

I am reading Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. It is the autobiographical journey of the author's healing process after a nasty divorce. She embarks on a journey to find joy, to find G*d and to find herself, which as it turns out, is all essentially the same thing. The book is divided into 3 parts as she spends 1 year traveling to three different countries. Part 1 documents her pursuit of pleasure.

Following the divorce she decided she wanted to experience a culture that values taking pleasure in life. Because she wants to learn Italian, for no other reason other than the sound of it being spoken is music to her ears, her first stop is Rome. She spends 4 months in Italy, most of it in Rome, relishing in all the beauty that it has to offer through art, language, people and mostly food. To this, I can relate.

So many moments while reading this book remind me of why I loved Paris as much as I did. Europeans seem to understand that one path to G*d is to relish in all that is enjoyable of the physical world. It's in the architecture. It's in the art. It's in the music, the food, the language, the people. I've come to understand now that the reason these things are so moving is because the creation of these things has come directly from G*d through the people creating them. The artists, musicians, chefs, and architects find inspiration and then create beauty doing something they love and, as a by-product, foster a society capable of appreciating it. There is a certain "wholeness" to the experience that fills you up and satiates at every level.

We all have (or should have) those special moments in our life when all is right and good with-in and with-out and the beauty of a place or experience brings you that moment of peace and joy that can not be described as anything other than holy. For me, one of these moments occurred on our honeymoon, feeling totally in love with my new husband and exploring a new place together. One late afternoon in May while exploring Yosemite National Park we drove the Tioga Pass. At the time, I did not have the experience or words to adequately capture that experience. The quiet of the long, uninhabited road winding through the

mountains panoramic view after exquisite panoramic view of snow capped mountains, crystal clear lakes, and waterfalls. The sun setting gave everything a changing palette of colors; reds, oranges, blues, purples as day settled into dusk. It was Magestic. It was Him. It was a glimpse at how gloriously this world was created and all that beauty was given to me to reflect back at me all the peace and beauty I was feeling inside being a happy newlywed. I was given that moment at a time when I could most appreciate it, and therein lies the wisdom of All-That-Is.

The same internal feeling of peace was within me when I was in Paris. Now I know, nothing could be more different from mountain tops and rolling vistas than churches and old buildings but the beauty was of the same caliber. The only difference was that man was the artist instead of nature, but clearly G*d was working here too. This time the art came through man's hands instead of his own. The awe it inspired, for me, was much the same. The humans that create these works of art from the paintings to the architecture of the Louvre, to the caramel mille fuille (which while eating it can only be described as a transcendent experience) are able to do this because when in the act of creating the artists are free of their own "stuff." The insufferable mind chatter, the emotional turmoil, and the social trivialness of everyday life. When all that stuff is momentarily silenced and we do whatever it is that makes us able to turn all the noise off, that is when we know we are doing divine work. When we are answering our calling. That is when beauty comes through in what is created and it is perceived as such when received by others.

If Europeans understand and appreciate the value of pleasure and joy, what does that mean for our immature culture? Where capitalism is the name of the game and nothing is as important as the pursuit of the almighty dollar. Joy is stripped from the equation. For example, someone finds a plant in some remote forest that cures an ailment. Instead of finding a way to grow the plant to serve the needs of people in a way that honors the environment, the people it is to help, and the plant in its Wholeness as given, containing both the active chemicals and the intangible Is-ness of its being, our culture values stripping it down to its chemical components. We determine which component is the most active on the worst symptom of the ailment and then mass produce it in a laboratory with the ultimate endgame of making money, usually polluting or raping the environment at some or multiple points in the process. The intent is not pure. It is not in truly in service to others, and therefore not in service to G*d or ourselves. Much of this work is done by overworked, underpaid employees who do not bring joy and love to their work but by people who just need to keep running in the hamster wheel in service of the all mighty dollar, and usually most of that dollar is going to someone else. And this happens not just in medicine, but in the food industry as well if we consider the industrial fractionation of mass produced, chemical ridden, genetically modified corn and soy. Food isn't presented in Wholeness in our society, created with love from Fruits of the Earth. It is largely mass produced for the ultimate goal of the financial gain of few. Sure the research as been done to know exactly which nutrients our bodies should use to operate on a mechanical level and then we think we feed ourselves well with "isolated soy protein" shakes and bars. With beakless chickens fed corn waste product wallowing in their own feces and never seeing daylight. All generously laden with a dose of high fructose corn syrup, of course. We've removed the beauty. We've removed nature and that which can be created from nature. We've removed the pleasure at every step on the path. We've removed joy. We've also removed that which feeds our life force and explains why we have a society of malnourished, yet obese, people suffering all manner of disease. It's all so very utilitarian here where very little is done purely for the beauty and love and pleasure of doing or experiencing and with the goal of being of service to others as well as our own spirit.

Because, I have to say when sitting in a park in Paris, in front of a fountain, surrounded by old stone buildings adorn with statues, terraces dripping with flowers of every color, eating the best tasting, freshest food, and basking in the sunshine under the blue sky (with the love of my life of course), I felt every bit as close to G*d as I did on that mountain top. The beauty of both places was enough to move me to tears. Of Joy.

Next: Part 2 India- The Pursuit of Divinity

Quinoa

I have developed a real thing for quinoa. I was first introduced to this ancient grain about 10 years ago but never paid it much attention.

Quinoa is technically not a grain, but a seed. However it is used as a grain when cooking, as it cooks up very similar to rice. It is considered one of the most complete plant based proteins, giving 24 g of protein in one cup. Here's a quick blurb I found on quinoa.

Quinoa is a very versatile food. It is a seed, which cultivation and uses date back to pre-Incan times. Unlike wheat or rice (which are low in lysine), quinoa contains a balanced set of essential amino acids for humans, making it an unusually complete food. It is a good source of dietary fiber and phosphorus and is high in magnesium and iron. Quinoa is gluten free and considered easy to digest. Because of all these characteristics, quinoa is being considered as a possible crop in NASA's Controlled Ecological Life Support System for long-duration manned spaceflights.

Quinoa naturally comes coated in saponins,which cause a bitter taste. Most quinoa sold in the U.S. has been rinsed before packaging. If buying quinoa in bulk it may need to be soaked before hand to remove the bitter saponins. The quinoa should be soaked for a few hours then rinsed well under running water.

To prepare quinoa, is similar to rice, bringing two cups of water to a boil with one cup of grain, covering at a low simmer and cooking for 14-18 minutes or until the germ separates from the seed. The cooked germ looks like a tiny curl. Alternatively, one can use a rice cooker to prepare quinoa. To that end, one volume of quinoa should be combined with two volumes of water.

(Source: http://hubpages.com/hub/Quinoa--Facts-and-Easy-Recipes)

I have sprouted quinoa and used in bread recipes. I've also used leftover cooked quinoa to thicken "cream" based soups without having to use any cream. Simply blend equal parts cooked quinoa and water until smooth and stir into soups. It also makes a satisfying warm breakfast cereal with a pat of butter, pinch of salt, and drizzle of maple syrup. (Thanks for that suggestion KBM!)

Here are two quinoa salads I have been enjoying recently.

Quinoa with sundried tomatoes, basil, and pine nuts (or chic peas)

Cook 1 cup of quinoa in 2 cups of water until absorbed and fluff with a fork. Soften 1/2 cup of sun dried tomatoes in warm water. In a pan, warm about 1/4 cup of olive oil over low heat. (Do not let it smoke) Add 2 cloves of minced garlic until fragrant. Squeeze out the tomatoes and dice small, add to the warm garlic oil. Add a pinch of red pepper flake. Then remove from heat and pour oil mixture over the quinoa. Chiffonade a handful of basil and add to the bowl. I often add spinach at this point with the basil. Add 1/4 cup of pine nuts and/or 3/4-1 cup of cooked chic peas. Squeeze the juice of half a lemon over the bowl and then mix it all together. Add salt and pepper to taste and enjoy!

Quinoa Salad with Cranberries and Walnuts (Thanks for this recipe Sherry!)

Combine 1 cup of quinoa with 2 cups of water in a medium saucepan and bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce to a simmer, cover, and continue cooking until all water is absorbed. In a medium bowl, combine cooked quinoa, 1 cup of dried cranberries, 1/4 cup of chopped walnuts or pecans, and 1/4 cup of sliced green onion. In a small bowl, whisk 1/4 cup of balsamic vinegar, 1 1/2 tablespoons of olive oil, and 2 cloves of garlic (minced) until well blended. Pour over the quinoa mixture and toss until well blended. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Chill in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes before serving.

Rebelling Against Anarchy

...with the creation of a Daily Schedule, ok, not a schedule.  A routine?  Hmm...still too structured. A rhythm. We adopted a daily rhythm.  But only during the hours we are home. And things can be moved around if we want. 

Yes, old non-conformist habits die hard, but the intention for a daily rhythm is in writing and posted on our wall so that has to count for something right?

I am not the type of person who enjoys any formality or structure to my time, however that has led to wasting a lot of it.  After nearly 4 years of floating from this to that with no real plan, I finally had to accept that we had a problem.  I realized that many of the days Ian and I spent together at home consisted of a lot of pulling and pushing.  He was always pulling me to do something with him and I was  spending too much time pushing him away because I had to finish just "one more thing."   I spent a lot of time stressed out and trying to find outings because I didn't think we knew how to enjoy long stretches of time at home. He had trouble playing alone. I was distracted from building with blocks when I just knew the dishwasher was full and laundry had to be folded.  More often than not, in the evening when I put Ian to bed, I was left with feelings of failure. I didn't accomplish enough around the house and I didn't spend enough time really being present with my beautiful, creative, intelligent and funny son. Both of us were frustrated. This was not the way I wanted to be a mom.

So one evening a few weeks ago, I drafted a very loose daily plan to fall back on whenever we were at home.  Which means, when we have a morning adventure, we can come home, check the time and jump right back into the routine.  I also designed it so that many things can overlap, as you'll see.  We created the wall hanging together. He cut out and pasted photos next to each activity so he can easily know what is next.  It helps that Ian can't tell time yet so I can manage it by starting some periods early and rushing through others to accommodate outings later in the day. He loves to check the schedule. On the first day he was very quick to remind Evan that the schedule said it was now time for him to play.  (The schedule is posted at the bottom of this post. )

There is a lot of wiggle room in this as my favorite craft is creating in the kitchen so this can be done during my time, together play time or craft time if it is something fun for us to do together.  I purposely put 2 outdoor sessions because this is the area I lack in the most. Sometimes I get so caught up with cleaning or cooking I miss most of a beautiful day. Plus he needs and I need to make myself get more exercise and fresh air daily.  This also helps to break me out of my "I only function well in bright sunshine between 70-80 degrees" rut,  which, as it turns out, is a very narrow window in New England.  The outside hours have been one of the highlights of having a daily rhythm.  Getting us out in all weather to do SOMETHING. So far we have enjoyed rousing games at the playground, several walks and hikes, bike rides, tree climbing, and leaf raking. We also have  sublet some of our land and the faerie real estate market is booming with several new constructions.   

The bonus in all of this is  I have never enjoyed Ian more than I have since putting this time-management protocol in place.  I am now free to put aside my to-do list and fully engage with him because I know my chores have a place in the daily routine too.   I had forgotten how much fun it is to run through the rain, ride on a swing, and play hide and seek.  He is also much better able to play alone after an hour of playing with me. Daily life here is so much more productive and definitely more peaceful. 

The TV time? I've made my peace with TV time. I was an only child for 9 years. I watched a lot of, sometimes questionably appropriate, TV.  Some could argue that I turned out ok.  There is always room for improvement though.  I've found that 1 hour in the late afternoon works well for us.  By that time, this introvert has had enough of interacting and just needs some no-talking time.  I have also found that TV in the morning sort of ruins the day for us because it sets a tone of wanting more TV and less imaginative play.   On some days, like weekends, we have family movie time but most days its either some Curious George or Sesame Street for an hour.  

How has this worked out you may wonder? Perfectly.  With one happy, tired, attention-satiated boy and a mom who feels like she got it all done.  

Our Daily Rhythm

So in the morning my daily plan starts at 8 am (meaning before 8 am if we are awake anything goes).  

8 am - Feed and let dogs out.

8:30 - Breakfast

9:00 - Playtime with Mom

9:45 - Mom does chores/Ian Plays alone

11:00 - OUTSIDE TIME/Physical activity

12:00 - Lunch

12:30 - Craft/Workbook/Homeschool Quiet time with Mom

1:30 - Mom does chores/Ian plays alone

3:00 - OUTSIDE TIME/Physical activity

4:00 - Quiet Time/TV Hour

5:00 - Mom makes dinner/Ian plays

6:00 - Dinner

6:30 - Play with Dad time

7:30 - Get ready for bed

8:00- Bed time

Magical Fairy Houses

A while back I was inspired by a blog in which a mom mentioned how her kids often build fairy houses when out in nature, from various earthly treasures such as sticks and stones and pine cones.  Ian loves collecting these treasures, especially during fall.  One boring rainy day, we got out a hot glue gun and created a fairy house that he keeps in his playroom to admire daily. Ian spent the day with his Nonnie yesterday and she received a tip on how there was a fairy exhibit at an art museum in nearby CT. At first glance on the website, I didn't think it sounded that great and almost skipped it in exchange for a day by myself.  But then I changed my mind and decided to go. We had so much fun building a fairy house together and I wanted to have this experience with Ian.

It turned out to be a truly special place.   When we arrived, we were given little jingly bracelets so as to warn the fairies that we were approaching their homes.  We followed a fairy map and examined exquisite little houses built into the natural landscape surrounding the art museum.   It was an autumn wonderland of falling colorful leaves.  The museum overlooks a river. The view was stunning.  

The tour ended in a maple grove where children were encouraged to build their own fairy houses.  Ian and I spent a good deal of time perfecting our contribution to this interactive exhibit. I will admit that as a mother I often struggle with the guilt that comes with that I really don't enjoy playing all that much. My adult mind isn't as easily amused

with moving cars around. But fairy houses bring out the kid in me. This isn't something I had ever even heard of until the blog I read.

But sitting down and finding beauty in twigs, pebbles, and acorns and then creating a magical space in which fairies live is something I find so appealing. Ian and I work together, discus

s the design, search for building materials and then create.  I love experiences that are meditative by allowing me to be engaged fully in the pre

sent blissful moment.

The fairy exhibit is at the Florence Griswold Museum in Old Lyme, CT.  It runs until November 1.  It is free admission for children under 12. Adult admission is $14 and worth every penny.

My Little Entrepreneur

A few weeks ago, Ian and I were wandering around Ocean State Job Lot. My go-to place on very desperate, long rainy days when we just need to go somewhere to be out of the house.  At the check-out, Ian noticed a set of colorful pinking shears. He desperately wanted the "special scissors."   I explained that I didn't have money for them in an effort to ward off an all out meltdown.  He choked back tears and listened, so I kept talking. I told him he could have the scissors if he could figure out how to get some money to buy them. By the time we go to the car, he told me he wanted to sell ice tea at our upcoming yard sale in 2 weeks.  We discussed the business plan and after considering all the possible beverage possibilities, he decided on apple cider.

We talked about his first business frequently. He inquired as to when we were getting the cider and when the yard sale would be. He told everyone he was going to sell apple cider so he could buy  "special" scissors.  As the time drew closer, we counted the coins in his short-term (truck) savings bank. He had just under $3.00.  The scissors cost $4.00.  We spent time talking about coins and counting coins.  I considered going full-force with a real business model in which he was going to have to cover his own overhead, but as the time of the yard sale grew closer I realized I didn't have the time or energy to get into all that. I rationalized that the lesson would be over his head anyway to partly relieve my guilt on this shortcut. In retrospect I wish I had done it all the way, so as to not set a precedent. 

A few days before he worked on his letters as he colored and wrote out his own display.   The day before the sale we bought the cider and cups. I was happy to contribute the initial capital to a young start-up. We gathered his table, chair, and other necessities for his cider stand.  He repeatedly reminded me that he was in charge of the cider.  I was mighty impressed with his desire to own this operation.

The morning of the yard sale came. He set up his table. I plugged in the crock pot and poured the cider in and that pretty much concluded my contribution to his business. And then, 

Ian. Sold. Cider.  

He didn't sit passively, looking cute and hoping for someone to ask. He has his Dad's marketing skill. Asking nearly every yard sale patron if they wanted some cider, most couldn't resist.  Slowly and carefully, Ian served his cider. Everyone got "three dumps" from the ladle.  It was a bargain at $.25/cup.  In retrospect, I really did him a disservice at that price point because 2 days later I spent $3.00 for an identical cup of cider at Mystic Seaport. 

The next day we excitedly counted out his earnings. He earned about $5.00. With his short term savings, he had about $8.00 in total.  He asked if we could go to get his scissors on the way to Grammy's house. And this is when he melted my heart.  My thoughtful, sweet, generous son told me he wanted to get a pair of scissors for his cousin Natalie too. When I asked him why, he said because he thought she would like them. Swallowing over the lump in my throat, I quickly gave him his $1.00 allowance to bring him to $9.00.  I gave him a basic explanation of what sales tax is and he understood that he would need just over $8.00 to buy 2 pairs of special scissors. We agreed that the remaining coins would go into his long-term (dinosaur) savings bank. 

 

At the store, he navigated right over to the check out counter waited patiently for his turn at the counter.  Just over 2 weeks since the birth of his desire for the scissors, he bought them with the money he earned himself for that very purpose.  He was so proud!  I really admire his patience and commitment to running his cider business to get what he wanted, but I am most proud of his generous spirit. 

This was a great educational experience to guide him on. I can't wait to see this business model develop in complexity and depth as he matures and we get deeper in our home study.  So many lessons are included and with this project; art, business, math, marketing, research, writing, spelling, accounting and more.  It embodied many of the reasons I am attracted to homeschooling. Real-life, well-rounded, interactive learning using multiple skills. And it was fun too.  He is already planning his next beverage stand with lemonade and ice tea.

Natural Education

We've long been contemplating the benefits of a homeschool education for Ian. It does seem to be the direction we are heading for him.  As part of his education, we will participate in outside class situations as well, so pre-school is possibly on the horizon for him as well, though there is really only one that seems to embody my parenting and educational philosophies for a young child, in that it does not involve academics in any formal way.  Perhaps next year, as he is on the wait list for the program that is 2 mornings a week.   In order to get him into the practice of being away from me for short periods, I have tried a music class, and a musical story hour. Neither of them seem to appeal to him.  

Then, one day a few weeks ago he told us he wanted to be a Farmer when he grows up. He wants to sell cucumbers and tomatoes at a farmers market.  There is a beautiful organic farm in nearby CT that offers a pre-school program 2 mornings a month. So far, he has shown tremendous interest in the idea that he is going to go learn how to be a farmer, so we are signing him up.  I think that will fulfill the space (within me) that believes in order to be well rounded as a homeschooler, he should be ok with short periods learning from someone else. That's my thing and for now, I'm sticking to it.

During this time at home he has shown a natural affinity to animals and I am a strong believer in teaching him about the natural world as much as possible. To me, this would be the strongest back-bone in any education.  A love and appreciation for natural laws starting at a very early age seems to be the most instinctual way to facilitate his learning.  

This instinct seems to be in sync with Ian.  Yesterday, we visited our friend Kelly and her son Jack (11),  who is one of Ian's favorite people in the whole wide world.  They had creatively used a stack of magazines to create ramps to jump cars over.  When it was clean up time, Ian carried in a stack of the magazines; National Geographic. He asked if we could take them home to read.  At first I resisted (for some reason), but then Kelly pointed out that he would probably really like the beautiful photography.  I noticed that he had picked out 6 or so issues with animals on the cover. So I agreed.

He was so excited last night to "read" his magazines before bed.  Snuggled in my bed, we flipped through. I stuck mostly to captions of the photos to explain them.  He was so intrigued! The first issue was about wolves. In that one, it depicted how they were hunting a moose how they battled, and ultimately shared the kill, with a bear family.  I was thrilled with how much learning went on, from this layout of photos, we talked about the circle of life, natural selection (how wolves hunting moose keep both the wolves and the moose populations healthy),  and why wolves no longer live in our area and how there are now a lot of deer. This led into a discussion of how and why predators like wolves don't live here. He was introduced to the concept of a gun for the first time.  That was a scary moment for me at first, however I am so deeply grateful that *I* was the person who taught him what a gun was. It did not come from any TV show, movie, or another child.  In that explanation, I am hoping to lay the seeds of how much respect he should have for them.  With the understanding of what they do, he agreed that they are not toys.

What I have found most amazing about him is how when presented with any information that involves the natural order of things, including reproduction, hunting, and killing he accepts that information without fear.  Photos of wolves killing a moose intrigue him, but an animated scene of animal characters acting out the same thing scare him.  It seems that his little being accepts nature in all its extremes more readily than something fabricated in the human mind. He knows truth innately and responds well to honesty and directness in my explanations.  Two National Geographic magazines gave birth to a 45 minute learning space in the snuggled warmth of my bed.   

Yes, I think homeschool will work really well for us!

Ages and Stages

I'm intrigued by how Ian flows from one age and stage to the next as I observe him growing up.  There seems to be a definite shift in his development every so often. For three years I have noticed it about 2 months before his birthday in late November, with every other year being a little bit challenging followed by about a year of relative peace.  To put it another way, if he were the stock market, he has an up year with its minor fluctuations, followed by a down year with its more erratic fluctuations.  He flows from a docile "bull" to an angry "bear" and back again.

His first year, infanthood, was wonderful. In spite of a very rough patch from 2-6 weeks as we settled into a comfortable nursing relationship and his refusal to sleep for any length of time until he was 9 months old, overall I enjoyed it. I love infants with all their cuddliness.  As he passed his first birthday we entered into a more difficult several months.  I found 12-18 months to be extremely trying on us, when he was in the "I know what I want but can't verbalize it well" period.  He got frustrated. I got frustrated.  Around 18 months,  we started to see some glimmers of light on the horizon.  In the September before his 2nd birthday there was a shift into curious toddler as he entered the Fabulous Twos.

Two was such a great age. Full of curiosity and exploring, mimicking and following, but still very baby-like so everything was all just so cute.  Especially that little baby voice trying so hard to express himself.  Two was a pleasure all the way to the September before he turned 3.

Three has been a similar to the market that crashed around the same time.  All of a sudden he realized he didn't HAVE to listen and testing it became pretty much the norm.  The need to get attention became an art form and keeping my attention constantly, was on his daily agenda. The tantrums, when they happened, took a turn from frustration with a twist of desperation to an unleashing of anger, sometimes physically. I heard the words. "You are a mean mom" and "I don't like you" a few times. He's beaten his door with blunt objects and thrown things. Trying to bully and force his way with us and with friends was something he was trying out for a while.  Screaming demands, melting down,  and showing physical rage when upset was also something he experimented with to see how much reaction he could get. We've been those people in the grocery store.  The ones with the screaming kid at the check out line that pre-parentally we would have judged and ridiculed for not handling our child "correctly."  After being that mother more than once, I realized what is the right response for me and my son might be totally different than best response for another mother and child.  

About 6 weeks after his third birthday I concluded that I was now in the worst period of our relationship to date.  It was long. Then in about June, some glimmers of hope started to appear. A calmness and maturity. An ability to entertain himself started to happen more often.

Now, here we are two months before his fourth birthday and I am seeing a significant flow from testing the rules to living within them peacefully.  He loves to create, to "read" (he pretends to read by telling a story from the pictures), to explore, ask questions, and more often than not he behaves very well. As I have gotten to know him as a person, I realize he is a lot like me. He requires a full, detailed explanation before he'll be agreeable.  He is not a child that is ok with "I said so."  I never was either, so I understand this.  For example, he often attempts to distract me in the car by wanting this or that.  I explain that I can't get it, it is dangerous. That's not enough. He continues pestering.  For months this went on. I progressed to having to tell him we might get in an accident if I try to pick up a car off the floor behind me while driving. This reasoning is probably enough for most children his age. Not Ian.  So I explain in more detail, that we could get into a car accident and have to go to the hospital.  The asking and pestering continued for more months.  I tried this explanation a few weeks ago and he said, "You always say that" and then went on asking for whatever he dropped.  "You can reach it" he encouraged. Finally, I laid it out for him.  What EXACTLY might happen if we crashed the car.  We talk about life and death and all natural processes with him regularly so it was not unfamiliar but when I explained that we could die and not be together anymore if I was not a careful driver he replied, "Ok, Mom" and the backseat requests stopped.  Part of me was afraid I might have scarred him for life with that kind of blatant honesty and I wondered what kind of awful mom would say something like that to a 3 year old... That's when I realized he was like me. He needs a complete and thorough understanding of all the consequences before making his own decision in his best interest.  And the answer needs to resonate with him for him to concede and agree.  Wow, do I respect that about him, but boy does that make parenting more of a task for us!  Now if he asks me to fetch a cracker he dropped while on the highway and I say, "remember what I told you might happen if I am not a careful driver?" He instructs me that I should pull over and stop first.....

He's such a little boy now and its fun to have conversations with him about things, aside from the morose.  He loves to talk (and talk and talk and inquire and talk...)  It feels like 3 was about setting the standard of acceptable behavior and he had to test and check every which way to make sure there were no loopholes. It was exhausting as his parent but it seems like maybe we are entering into a period of peaceful at four.......and then will come five. 

New Juice

I've gotten a few requests for a new juice recipe so here is one I put together this morning.  It is adapted from the Blue Grape recipe in Raw Food Real World.  The original recipe calls for blue/green algae, grapefruit juice, and agave. Mine went like this:

In a blender add:

1 cup of fresh squeezed grapefruit juice (you can buy this at Whole Foods or squeeze yourself)

~ 1/2 cup of frozen grapes

2 droppers full of Marine Phyto Plankton (Use any powder/liquid algae supplement here)

Blend and pour. It is delicious.  I enjoyed sipping this while making Maple Cranberry Granola (Raw Food Real World) and Fig Bars (aka Fig Newtons) from Living Raw Food.  

These two raw food un-cook books are by far my favorite and most used in my growing collection.  New books are what keep me inspired. Sarma Melngailis, is an entertaining writer and the recipes in both of these books range from simple fare to elaborate creations.  I highly recommend both for anyone who wants to get creative, get inspired, and include more delicious, whole, raw foods in their culinary adventures.

Paris: Part Trois

On our final day, Monday, we went to Notre Dame's Cathedral.  The architecture was beautiful and the grandness of the interior was more than I imagined.  Evan seemed thoroughly bored with that exploration.  As he said, "I've seen dozens of European churches and they are all basically the same."  It sort of sapped my enthusiasm, but to be fair he hadn't had his coffee yet and is generally much perkier once that happens.  We contemplated doing the hike up the stairs to the bell tower, but our guide book said it was a "claustrophobe's worst nightmare."  When we saw the line leading into the narrow staircase I knew that would give me a panic attack so we passed. 

Next on the "Paris by Keith" travel suggestions we walked over to Isle St. Louis to browse the shops.  The narrow streets and little shops were beyond quaint.  We conveniently came upon a little cheese shop next to a little bread shop and that pretty much sounded like lunch to us.  The very nice cheese shop owner let us taste a delicious cow's milk swiss (we think, swiss) and we bought a small wedge of that a wedge of very stinky brie.  Next we stopped at the bakery and bought some very dark and chewy loaves, as well as a slice of broccoli quiche and the token croissant.  We finished our little walk on the island, found some very small cups of coffee, and then set about having a  picnic on the river.  Notre Dame is spectacular from every angle and we had a great view of the cathredral while enjoying our bread and cheese lunch.  Evan was right, the bread in Europe is the best I've ever had.  Chewy, crusty on the outside and full of flavor.  It paired perfectly with the cheeses, but the brie was a bit too pungent for me. Evan liked that one though.  

Next on Keith's tour suggestions were to get pastries from one very particular pastry shop called Pierre Herme.  We took two trains to get there and when we did, oh boy!  Keith doesn't kid around about pastries. This was a pretty upscale shop and everything looked so decadent. We were so full from our lunch that we ordered a lemon tart and a flaky, creamy caramel filled delight, the name of which I cannot recall, and we took them with us.  

Evan had a call for work to do, so we went back to the hotel and I took a much needed 20 minute nap.  Next we were off to the area called Montmarte to the Basilica de Sacre Coeur.  We wandered in the wrong direction for 20 minutes before we finally figured out where to go.  This area was very touristy and full of junk shops, artists, and tourists.  The Basilica overlooks the entire city as it sits up on a hill top.  First we looked around inside. Now, I am the sort of person that rebels against rules that I deem arbitrary and this is the only place we entered where pictures were not allowed.  So of course, in a little snit of rebellion, I shut off the flash and took a few because the stain glass was really something to be seen.  Thank goodness for tourists who don't follow rules or the one little man in charge of yelling at said tourists wouldn't have a job. He rushed over and started scolding me in French, I think, but it sounded more like Spanish.  I agreed to put away the camera and within seconds he was rushing off to yell at someone else.  He must have really been sent into a tizzy when someone's cell phone started going off obnoxiously.  I admit breaking rules because I think they are dumb is the last little bit of teenage angst still left in me.... But I have the contraband photos... mwah ha ha...

Next we explored the crypt below the church where I learned from Evan that there are plaques on the floor that one should not step on. Whoops...I didn't even see them.   It was dark and a wee bit eerie but nothing too impressive.  Finally we paid the small fee to climb the tiny spiral staircases up to the top of the basilica.  I managed to get through it with only a few small panic attacks when going up what seemed to be a never-ending amount of stairs. 288 to be exact.   It was disappointing to see all the graffiti up there as the entire city has relatively little but this tourist trap area was completely scarred.

Dinner was next and both of us were getting pretty desperate for fresh vegetables, a salad of any kind. One can only live on bread and cheese for so long and this whole trip was lacking in fresh, live foods and I was really starting to crave them.  Our guide book led us to a little cafe in neighborhood known for their big salads.  So with a glass of wine and a beer for Evan we enjoyed our vegetarian salads, which were covered in potatoes fried in garlic.  That was an interesting twist, but yummy nevertheless.  

I'm sad to say that by the time we got back to the hotel, the last thing we wanted to do was head out again to see Paris at night.  Eight hours of walking and sightseeing really wears me out. Paris at night is a treat that will have to be saved for another trip. Our last evening in Paris was spent relishing the unbelievable pastry we picked up earlier that day. I've never tasted anything like it.  There was moaning involved. As Keith said later, their pastry is sort of a spiritual experience.  Amen to that!  Thanks for telling us about this place Keith. 

We had big plans to get up early on Tuesday to go see Napoleon's tomb and the catacombs. However, parents on vacation need to balance their need to sleep uninterrupted with sightseeing and suffice it to say we slept until 10 am and decided to skip Napoleon's tomb.

The catacombs were the farthest away, but ever since hearing about them in junior high school, I've always been intrigued by the concept.  So off we went. When we arrived we decided to stop at a cafe to get the morning coffee and get our bearings.  It turns out we were kitty-cornered from the entrance to the catacombs as evidenced by the long-line.  Without looking at the menu, we ordered 2 coffees. I stuck to decaf all weekend and I am happy to say that I was served actual decaf because I have not suffered a headache since being home and coffee-less. This is more than I can say for the rare occasion I order a decaf in the U.S. and usually get regular and have to deal with migraines for a few days.  The bill came and it was  8.30 euro!  That is about $12 for 2 cups of coffee. RIDICULOUS!  I admit I am not very conscious of money spending with foreign currency as it all feels like monopoly money to me, but this hit home. I couldn't believe it...and it wasn't even the best cups of coffee for the whole trip either.

After the expensive coffee we waited about 45 minutes in line to the catacombs.  This was our first rainy morning in Paris so I was forced to wear my vibrams as all my other shoes were sandles or flip flops.  I was dreading that a rat was going to run over my feet while down there. Once in we decended down almost 100 steps and walked through a maze of caves and corridors. This was the creepiest part because you never knew when you might come face to skull with some departed soul.  I had to work hard to ignore the upwelling of claustrophobic panic I could feel boiling just under the surface of my being, knowing there was no quick exit.  Finally we came upon a sign that read, "STOP: You are now entering the Empire of the Dead." In French, of course..

And then we entered the series of caves with walls of artfully and neatly arranged femurs, tibias and skulls. It occurred to us that someone's job was to build walls out of human remains. How macabre.  There did seem to be some mortar used to secure the elaborate displays. Room after room after room....all the anticipation of how creepy it would be was quickly desensitized and by the third or fourth room I was actually bored and hoping for the exit.  But overall it was an interesting, if not unusual, ending to a romantic weekend. And, there were no rats. 

After this we gathered our things from the hotel and set off for the airport for an uneventful flight home. Evan was off to Dusseldorf, Germany for business.

Needless to say, I loved Paris.   I could see us living there for a time, as there is so much more to explore and what a lovely home base Paris would be for other adventures in Europe.  Plus, I hope to expose Ian to different cultures of the world while he is young and Paris is so rich - so much to see, contemplate and enjoy.  I plan to learn the language more fluently and hope to continue on with our lessons at home.  Our fifth anniversary went by without much acknowledgement in May, so this trip really was like a second honeymoon.  Thank you for the beautiful time in Paris my love!  I look forward to more exciting adventures with you.