The Yeti is a Stubborn...

miserable child who takes after his mother father and revels in keeping me awake at night (not that I'm not already up most of the time suffering from enjoying insomnia.

Some of you may remember the battle we had with the baby torture device (if you haven't been reading that long, click here).  When I won this full on, two month long, civil war which pit mother against child - I felt as though I had just built the Great Wall of Motherhood.  People for generations to come would be able to see this from space.

Update, the Yeti has been sleeping peacefully in his torture device for a few weeks now.  Until this week.  We live in a very old New England farm house, whose insulation is lacking non-existent.  We do, however, have a brand new heating system in the house (installed this summer), whose operational status is questionable on a daily basis.  Its latest hiccup?  The heat in the baby's room is not working.  At all.  It is snot-freezing, penis-retreating, scrape the frost off the inside of the windows cold in there.

Not liking to sleep him in our bed with us (queen bed = too small for 2 humans, a cat, and a yeti) I decided to sleep on the couch with him the first night.  No deal.  He had fallen asleep initially, but then screamed for five hours, until I broke, literally put him in his winter outside clothes, and put him in his crib.  He smiled, and fell right asleep.  Devil Child.

Night two.  Get out the pack & play, place in living room.  Baby screams.  Bundle up devil child and place in crib again.  Smile.  Snore.

I've created a monster.

Obligatory Corny Pay it Forward Blog Post

One of my unpublished resolutions is to be a more positive human being.  I have a slight tendency to be...well...negative, pessimistic, and down right bitchy.  I frequently yell at my fellow drivers, scowl at the other idiots in the grocery store who always manage to stop in the middle of the aisle with out warning to get their Metamucil, and basically cast judgement way too much.

So, it is my mission to find more good in humanity and spread as much good karma as I can as well.  Yes, I have rainbows shooting out of my belly a la the Care Bears.  I have recently donated all of the Yeti's too small clothes to good will in addition to all of ours.  I also donated several packages of unopened, too small diapers to our local women's shelter.

I have noticed that I am having a much easier time doing good than seeing good.  It seems in our age of instant everything, that we have no time for common courtesy or even taking a few minutes to go out of our way to help someone who needs it.

Story time:
Earlier this week, I was leaving the grocery store and trying to get the Yeti into the car after someone parked waaay too close and manage to get my 3 bags of groceries packed in.  Reminder: it is winter in New England and slightly chilly.  Former Insomniac Mom would have wailed my door into theirs out of spite and pure pissed offedness.  Of course, the second I took the Yeti out, the cart started to roll away.  WTF moment.  Much to my surprise, a very nice gentleman stopped the cart, put my groceries in the back of my car while I wrestled with the car seat, and offered to put my cart away.  The skeptic in me assumed that he was an axe murderer/serial rapist and would duct tape my hands, throw me in his van, and lock me in his dungeon for all eternity.  However, I was touched.  I thanked him profusely.  He offered a simple 'Your welcome' and continued on his way.  This one act restored my faith in humanity.  All is not lost.  I vowed to pay it forward.

Today while in the grocery store, an elderly man was rifling through his purse bag and dropped his inhaler while we were strolling by on a massive couponing mission (which, I must brag, I got over $200 of groceries for $66).  Seeing that the inhaler was precisely what he was looking for, I asked if he needed help.  He looked at me quizzically.  I only asked because my OCD would ban anyone from touching my inhaler that would touch my lips, however the fact that it was now on the floor of a grocery store would have rendered it unusable even in a severe asthma attach.  He didn't answer, other than to continue to stare at me, so I bent down, picked it up, and placed it on top of his bag.  I bid him good day and continued on my way.  He continued his wordless stare.  My minuscule act of kindness brightened my day.

I am writing this post to encourage everyone to do the same.  No act is too small.  You don't have to volunteer 40 hours a week to make a difference in someone's day.  So, in addition to all my other 101 goals, I am aiming to take any opportunity to be a better person.  I will be more generous with pleases, thank yous,  compliments, and praises.  I hope that this will rub off on my Yeti someday and that this attitude will multiply rather than dwindle as it seems to be in this age of impatience, ego, and selfishness.

Wacky Wednesday

I feel like I need to introduce you to my dad's family for Wacky Wednesday.

There are SEVEN boys and ONE girl.  Seven.  In a row.  I would attribute this to a combination of isolation in rural New England, cold winters, and being French Catholic.  Frankly, I'm surprised there weren't more or them.

In addition to there being seven of them - they were, shall we say, slightly rowdy out of control for most of their youth.  Now, we all know that these kids were not delivered by the stork or picked from a cabbage patch.

Enter Gramma Growley.  The matriarch of the family.  Yes, that was what we called her, to her face.  She was certainly no Michelle Duggar, but she loved and defended her offspring at any cost.

Facts about Gramma Growley:
*She loved to alternate hits off of her cigarettes and oxygen machine at the same time.
*She threatened to shoot the neighbor's unleashed dog for chasing the horses she had in the pasture.  She meant it.  By the way, she was a really good shot with a .22.
*She had a stash of condiments and sugar packs stolen from fast food joints that filled a garbage bag when she died.
*She was never with out her 'special' orange juice that I never understood why I couldn't have a sip of.
*She referred to one of my cousins as 'The Little Bastard'.  To his face.
*She had a vicious cat named Duchess that would lash out with out any instigation.
*She would frequently look out the window when someone pulled in and holler "Who the f*ck is here?"
*She kept food out in the woodshed in winter (not uncommon during cold New England winters), but would forget how long they had been in there (several winters perhaps?) and feed it to us.
*All holiday candy was purchased on sale after the holiday had passed, then put out the next year for that same holiday.  Halloween was always interesting.  Mom, why is this chocolate so hard?
*She probably could have been on Hoarders

Funny Gramma Growley story:
Disclaimer, my family is not disrespectful, just very comical at any event, including funerals.

Gramma Growley owned a large farm and when she died, we buried her next to my grandfather on top of the hill at the farm.  PS she was creamated.

One of my uncles had a beagle dog, Nicky, that she hated.  So at the burial ceremony, we were all outside (I was six at the time).  Apparantly, the night before, there had been a rather boisterous pre-funeral gathering in which large amounts of alcohol were consumed.  Therefore, the next day, there were several hung over members of the family.

Nicky decided that this would be a perfect time to go exploring in the woods adjacent to the burial site.  In true beagle form, he found some decomposed animal to roll in, then come back to get pets from the mourning funeral goers.  So one of my other hung over uncles, made a decision he would soon regret - he bent down to pet the dog.

Now, for anyone who is reading this who has never smelled or seen a dog that has just rolled in something rotten carcass, it is horrifying.  Blood and guts are usually matted in their fur, as they lick their chops and the smell...well...I really can't put words to it.

My uncle ran to the woods to puke.  My other uncle, who owned Nicky, exclaimed "Jesus, it smells like something died around here!"  Everyone broke out in laughter.  Classy.

Test Kitchen Tuesday - Venison Roast

I will admit that, in addition to homemade pie crust, I have a paralyzing fear of cooking meat.  Not little things like ground beef or chicken breasts, but roasts and steaks.  I fear them being dry and over cooked or worse – under cooked.  I have visions of being glued to the toilet with a severe case of botulism.  Growing up, we rarely ate such cuts of meat (certainly not venison), not because we were herbivores, but I think mom may have had the same fears I do. 

We recently obtained a freezer full of venison.  Ground, steaks, back straps, and roasts.  What better way to face my fear than to tackle one.  So we didn’t have a repeat of last week’s venison disaster, I spent quite a bit of time doing research on how to cook venison and flavors that pair well with it.  I found a primitive recipe on a hunting forum, but doctored it up a little bit.  So here we go…

Bacon Wrapped Venison Roast:

Ingredients:

4 lb venison roast

1 teaspoon dried rosemary

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon sugar

½ teaspoon cinnamon

½ teaspoon black pepper

¼ teaspoon ginger

¼ teaspoon coriander

1 shallot

5 slices thick cut bacon

1 cup red wine

Directions:

1.  Preheat oven to 200 F

2.  Rinse venison and pat dry.  Place in a roasting pan.

3.  Combine rosemary, salt, sugar, cinnamon, black pepper, ginger, and coriander in a small bowl.  Rub evenly over roast.  Give it a little umph you want this to stick to the meat

4.  Slice shallot up very thin and place on top of roast

5.  Cut bacon strips in half and drape over shallots and roast.  Press ends of bacon down so the shallots stay on top of the roast

6.  Pour red wine over roast, cover with foil (seal edges)

7.  Place in oven until internal temp is 150 F (or desired doneness).   I have a remote meat thermometer and it may just be one of the coolest kitchen gadgets ever (other than my zoomy garlic mincer) I cooked this about 5 hours)

8.  Allow to sit for 5-10 minutes before slicing

This recipe came out amazing. Red (who has eaten venison his whole life) said it was some of the best he ever had.  He did ask what the pine needles in the roast were (rosemary).Just make sure of the following when cooking a venison roast: don't over cook it - it can be very dry due to the lack of fat in the meat.

Pediatricians Suck

I never realized how much I hated going to the doctor until I had to bring my own child to one.

Story time:

When the Yeti was two weeks old, he came down with a pretty nasty cold with lotsa phlegm.  My child that swallowed up more matter than a black hole wouldn't eat and was so congested he gurgled when he breathed. Being a new mom, I was terrified.  I called the pedi and they casually informed the scared new mom that there was nothing they could do and to just make him comfortable until he got over it.  So I stocked up on baby Vicks and put a vaporizer directly under his swing.  In a few days, he still had not gotten over it.  I called them back, and was told that if I took his temp and it was over 100 then to call back.  So, of course, I took his temperature constantly.  At about 1:00 pm his fever hit 100.4 under his arm (which I was also told to add 1 degree onto an armpit temp).  Of course, I panicked and called over - they gave me a 5:00 pm appointment.  When we went over, we did not see his normal pedi but the on call doc (who we specifically did not pick because she did not have a child of her own and we didn't think that she would be as good with children as someone who had a herd of their own).  First thing she did was offer him a bottle and of course, he took it.  Well, she said, clearly he is hungry.  Have you tried feeding him lately?  Nope, we are starving him.  She then took his temp (rectally, poor little guy) and it was only 99.6.  Ummmm, you said he had a fever of over a hundred?  Maybe you should try calling us next time he actually has a fever.  And oh, by the way, if you were still breast feeding him, he wouldn't be sick.

I pictured myself transforming into the Hulk again.  She then continued on to inform us that our car seat was too big for him.  Hmmm...when we purchased it, it said it was for infants.  I guess Combi lied.  I'll have to call them and complain.  Veins pulsing in my temples.  We packed up the Yeti and left.  

This was the first of several bad similar experiences in this practice.

So here's my bitch:

When I found out I was pregnant with the Yeti, I was adamant that I would breast feed.  I read all the books and did all the research.  I never had any intentions of having to every put one drop of formula in his mouth.

Fast forward to the first night after hatching the Yeti.  He latched right on, we had no problem feeding, for a half an hour, every hour.  I missed sleep.  My nipples hurt.  He cried all the time.  I was miserable.  In addition to ‘latching on’ he liked to chew on me.  I consulted the lactation consultants on the ‘chewing’ and they had no answer.  With regards to him eating every hour, I was told “Oh, it could take two or three months for him to get over that.”  Damn.  My nipples were cracked and bleeding.  Breast feeding was so painful, that I was crying every time he fed.  I tried the nipple creams, it didn’t help. 

When he was nine days old, we had a projectile vomiting incident, the contents of which were milk and blood.  Being a new mom, I panicked and called the hospital.  They assured me it was just because he was swallowing so much of my blood.  F*ck that.  I caved and gave him formula.  His first four ounce bottle, he guzzled and wanted more.  I felt horrible – I was turning my kid into a vampire and starving him.  I felt even worse for feeding him *gulp* formula!

Now, when we go to doctors’ appointments, I get all the snide comments that I’m not breast feeding.  Ok, doctors and nurses – I feel bad enough that I am giving him formula and feel like a failure for not nursing him, thank you for making me feel like a horrible mom.  Millions of children have been raised on formula and turned out fine, right?  I made an effort, right?  I have discussed this with my friends, and they have all had similar experiences.  Many changed pediatricians several times until they found one who respected what they had to say.

I’m writing this post, because I am curious about other mom’s experiences – bad nursing experiences, good ones, how their healthcare providers reacted to not breast feeding or any other parenting.  In my opinion, they should be supportive of the decisions parents make (provided it is in the best interest of the family) with regards to any aspects of their child's health.  So why is it that I feel like every time that we go to the doctors' office, I wind up feeling like a bad mom?  Why aren't they more understanding of a new mother's concerns?

Planning meals

I recently received a call from my girlfriend.  She has been following my blog and commented that I have such an easy time with cooking.  She continued on to say that she has a very hard time planning meals, grocery shopping, and finding meals that her picky boyfriend will eat.  She works full time and has an amazingly adorable nine month old monster of her own.  She asked for my advice on how I get it all done.  I realized that this is probably a common problem for many women.  Therefore, it became an inspiration for a post.

1.  I do one BIG grocery shopping trip a month.  I try to hit it on a week that our local store has a lot of basic necessities on sale and combine it with as many coupons as I can.  I will even buy items that I get good deals on, that I don’t normally cook with.  I use this opportunity to stock up on a variety of proteins (usually bulk boneless chicken breasts, pork chops, and ground turkey), veggies that have a fairly long shelf life (root, frozen, canned veggies, tomato sauces, etc), pastas, rices, shredded cheese, and cooking/baking necessities (flour, sugar, corn meal, stocks, etc).  I try to buy one or two specialty items that will last a while too – that way every time you shop, you build up your supplies (i.e. stone ground mustard, a bottle of red wine, cider vinegar, spices).

Staples I always have a stock of: Bisquick, Italian dressing, dry soup or dressing mixes, plain canned tomato sauce, whole wheat pasta, brown rice, bread crumbs, frozen corn, one bottle each of red wine and a dry white, beef stock, chicken stock, carrots, potatoes, onions, canned beans (kidney, black, and cannellini) chicken, pork, ground turkey, a variety of spices and spice blends, olive oil, flour, sugar, eggs, cornmeal, Pillsbury pie crust, taco seasoning packets, tortillas, and low fat shredded cheese.  With these things you can pretty much make anything.

2.  I take one night on a week or weekend and plan 3-4 meals.  I make sure that these are meals that will have leftovers that can be eaten as is or repurposed into something else (i.e. extra cooked chicken breasts make great chicken salad sandwiches the next day, or you can slice it up and put it on a fresh salad the next night), that way you don’t have to put a lot of time cooking time consuming meals every night.  Also, take advantage of your time, if you are in the kitchen cooking and have already made the mess, cook extra – make mashed potatoes as a side one night, but make enough so you can use it to make Shepherd’s Pie the next night (again, a cheap, easy dish – ground meat, corn, and mashed taters), if you are baking chicken, you might as well cook more than you will need for the recipe, you can use baked chicken for just about anything).  I usually write these on a list on the fridge so I remember what I am going to make.

3.  Once I have all my meals planned, I sometimes need some fresh veggies or fruits.  As these don’t have a long shelf life, I have a tendency to swing into the grocery store or local farm stand to grab these so I don’t have veggies rotting away and getting tossed (wasteful of food and money).

4.  Cook your meals!

5.  Optional – if I am in the mood and have a content/sleeping baby or Red is home, I will go on a day long cooking spree and throw stuff in the freezer.  In my experience, pasta dishes freeze the best (usually lasagna), many soups, stews, and chilis freeze well too.  Also, remember that meat can be frozen once it is cooked.  I’ll bake extra chicken and throw it in the freezer as well.  Just remember to seal your food with as little air in the package as possible.  If you have a vacuum sealer, whip it out, it will extend the amount of time something can live in the frozen north. 

I would like to add that cooking does come easy to me, NOW.  I never helped my mom cook dinners when I was younger and have just put in the time to learn how to cook.  If I’m bored, I read cookbooks or peruse the internet for recipes and ideas.  Also, I love to watch the Food Network.  I spend a lot of time in the kitchen and trying new recipes that are out of my comfort zone.  Hey, everyone screws things up once in a while, and I can honestly say that I have thrown plenty of meals away that just came out horrible.  Don’t be afraid to experiment!

Happy cooking!

Sweet Salvation at Midnight

Since I'm now wide awake, I might as well discuss the procedure for tonight's midnight Yeti feeding.

1.  Yeti cries, I wake up.
2.  Realization that at some point I had fallen asleep on the couch.  The Office is blaring on TV.  Worst. Show. Ever.
3.  Go to kitchen to make a bottle
4.  Realize that the apple butter that I had started making in the crock pot at 11:00 am, that was still in the crock pot, was burnt to a crisp (not apple crisp, yucky, stuck to the crock, will have to soak for days crisp).
5.  Go into cupboard for a Hersheys Mini dark chocolate bar.
6.  Get consumed by full on Tupperware avalanche from top shelf.  Visualization of cat running into the kitchen heroically to dig me out and provide me with sweet warming brandy.  Realization that the cat is no saint bernard and will probably not come rescue me.
7.  Curse and kick one container across the room.  Vow to reorganize Tupperwear in the morning.  Maybe put it in a floor level cabinet.
8.  Open chocolate, my savior, with one hand while walking down the hallway.  Watch in slow motion as said confection flies from the wrapper and bounces onto the bathroom floor, where five short hours ago, I heard Red singing a song about pooping while doing just that.  No five second rule in the bathroom.
9.  Curse more.  Consider calling the police to report chocolate abuse.
10.  Obtain one Yeti, change, and feed with out incident.
11.  Burp Yeti.
12.  Pyrotechnical display of baby vomit, on me, on the couch, on the Yeti.
14.  Give up on cursing, just hang head in frustration.
15.  Look at Yeti, face covered in recycled formula.  Huge smile on adorable little face.  Huge smile on my face.
16.  Realization: how could I possibly hate my night when I gaze upon that adorable smiling baby and sparkling blue eyes?  Salvation.