32 week belly shot: like puberty, but faster

My apologies for the prolonged silence; the stuff of life has gotten in the way of blogging (Thanksgiving, pregnancy, motherhood, stuff like that). But now I'm back! And what a post to be back with. Having reached 34 weeks of pregnancy this past weekend, I thought it was high time I posted my 32 week pictures. These were actually taken on week 32. (You'll see the difference in two weeks when I post the next set. Oy.)

I got to a point in my pregnancy with Lyndon where nothing fit. I'm not talking about that sweet 20ish week moment when you realize that you need a pair of maternity pants for the first time. No, I'm talking about somewhere in the mid 30s, when you put on a maternity standby you've been wearing for weeks and it suddenly doesn't work.

It reminds me a little of puberty, only faster. I remember, starting around age 12, going to my closet every 6 months or so and discovering that some things just didn't . . . work. It wasn't that I'd grown out of them, necessarily, at least not everywhere. It was just that they fit . . . differently. And not a good different. This stage of pregnancy is like that. The only difference is that instead of happening every few months, this happens every few weeks. So, I find myself employing the teenager method of dressing, you know, the one where you try and discard 5 outfits before you can leave the house in the morning.

Other than that, though, this third trimester is going wonderfully. I don't have aches or pains. I don't even have heartburn. I've only really had 2 leg cramps and can still breathe well enough to sing. If it wasn't for the extra 28ish pounds I'm carrying around, I wouldn't know I was pregnant at all. (If you're tempted to hate me for this, go back and read about my 29+ hour labor with Lyndon. I had a fantastic pregnancy with him too.)

Well, little one, it won't be long now! I can't wait to meet you!

gratuitous pics of a snuggle bug

"Lyndon, who do you love?"

"Dada."

"Anybody else?"

"Mmama."

Sometimes you teach your children, and sometimes . . .

At 21 months, Lyndon's training has officially begun.

Well, it actually begun the moment we brought him home from the hospital (training him to sleep in a crib, then to sit in a high chair, then to stay away from the stairs, and so on), but I'm talking about hardcore, Biblical, let's-memorize-some-verses training. Maybe we should call it discipleship?

Anyway, in the last few weeks, Adrian and I have noticed that our son complains. A lot. Now, he only has a few dozen words, so it's not the kind of verbal complaining older kids do, but it is complaining nonetheless. If you have or have had toddlers, you probably know what I'm talking about. They make this sound that's not quite a cry, but definitely not a happy noise-- some people call it fussing; personally, it reminds me of a police siren-- and they do it when something is happening that they don't like but know they can't change.

Moms, do you hear it yet?

Well, we decided to call it what it is. And we decided that our child is old enough to start recognizing it for what it is. So when I was, say, putting his jacket on, and he started making this noise, I began to say to him, "Lyndon, you are complaining." And then I would tell him what God says about complaining, which is pretty straightforward and comprehensive:

"Do everything without complaining or arguing."
-- Philippians 2:14 (ERV)

Doesn't leave much wiggle room, does it? It's exactly the kind of verse an almost 2 year-old needs: short, sweet, and to the point, with no loopholes. Within a few days of this, our little guy started to recognize this behavior, to the point where I can now ask him, "Lyndon, are you complaining?" and he will either nod his head, pout for a moment as if he just got caught, and stop, or shake his head no and stop. Either way, he has both connected the behavior to the word and realized that it's wrong.

And as I patted myself on the back for being such a good parent, I realized something . . .

I complain. A lot.

Lyndon and I were on our way to the grocery store last night, to try and throw together something for dinner-- after my husband came home and declared that he had a migraine and had to lie down upstairs, and no, we would not be going to (and eating at) Costco like we had planned, but he was really hungry and pizza sounded good-- and I did not have a good attitude. In fact, if you could have heard my heart, it would have been making that toddler police car noise I love so much. I grumbled and fussed in my grown-up way, and then it hit me: I was doing exactly what Lyndon had been doing. I was complaining.

And if I hadn't been training my son, I never would have realized it.

I repented to God and to the little guy in the backseat and decided to be grateful for the opportunity to serve my sick hubby the way he has served me so many times (early pregnancy comes to mind).

Sometimes you teach your children, and sometimes they teach you.

making chicken stock= life-changing

Ok, maybe not life-changing, but certainly attitude-changing.

A few weeks ago, I made chicken stock for the first time, using pretty much only ingredients that I would have otherwise thrown away.

I think I threw in a chicken carcass, some carrot peelings, a couple ribs of celery that were past their prime, and half an onion that I had cut up a while ago. I looked up a recipe for a "Bouquet Garni" from The Joy of Cooking and threw in whatever herbs I had that matched (probably parsley, thyme and some peppercorns, since that's what's usually in the house).

I simmered it for 3 or 4 hours, strained it through my colander, then through an actual strainer.

And it looked like this:

I did manage to strain some more of the herbs out of it after I took that picture, but it was amazing even with those little pieces in there. And this time around, I tied all the herbs together in a square of cheesecloth, and it wasn't a problem. I froze it in ice cube trays and used it anytime a recipe called for chicken broth or stock. Delicious. And nearly free. And way easier than I originally thought. You really can't mess this stuff up.

I made another pot yesterday, and I still can't get over how I was paying $1/can for this stuff, on sale! And I can pronounce all the ingredients in the homemade version, which, by the way, is way lower in sodium. Oh, and I've used one of those rotisserie chickens from the grocery store to make this, with equal success, so you don't have to cook whole chickens to do it.

This is the closest I could get to an actual recipe. Seriously. Don't feel any need to follow this to the letter.

Basic Chicken Stock
1) Place chicken carcass in large, deep pot. If you remove as much skin as possible, you won't have to skim as much fat off later.
2) Add cold water to cover.
3) Bring to a boil. If any fat or scum rises to the top and you feel like it, skim it off. Sometimes I do; sometimes I forget.
4) Reduce heat and add quartered onion, chopped celery and carrots, about [1 t. each dried parsley and thyme, 3-4 peppercorns, 1 bay leaf and 1 clove garlic]. Tie bracketed ingredients together in 1 small square cheesecloth or a coffee filter for easy removal.
5) Simmer for 3-4 hours. (Joy of Cooking says to simmer uncovered, but I usually partially cover it.)
6) Strain. How fine your strainer is will determine how clear and "pure" your broth is. Since we use it mostly in recipes and don't eat it as soup, I just strain it through a regular colander (which removes the chicken pieces and veggies).
7) Skim the fat off the top before using. (This is easier to do once the stock has been refrigerated, as the fat rises to the top and solidifies. It will even stick to your spoon if you use a metal one.)

Waste not, right?

And then there was an epic win!

My husband has redeemed himself and his erased memory card! Apparently, he snapped a few pictures with a friend's camera, including a fantastic Halloween costume shot!

It's definitely possible that he's roaring in this one. Or eating apple. Not sure. We'll go with roaring, since he did a lot of that on Monday. But he did a lot of apple eating, too.

For a not-quite-2-year-old, "bobbing for apples" is more like "reaching for apples," but he was still all about it. He was even motivated enough to stand in line and wait his turn for a while.

So there you have it! Our little guy's first real Halloween was a smashing success. A roaring good time. A . . . ok, I'll stop now. You're welcome.

We epic fail at Halloween pictures.

I apologize for not following through on my promise of a "coherent thoughts on Halloween and pics of my adorable son in costume" post. It's a long story, involving a borrowed SLR and an accidentally erased memory card. Hopefully, we haven't lost all pics of this year's Halloween forever; although, as my instructional technologist husband hasn't managed to recover them in 3 days of trying, it's not looking good.

So I have decided to post the "coherent thoughts on Halloween" portion anyway, which I wrote on Tuesday, and follow it with "pics of my adorable son in (part of his) costume". And if we ever manage to get our pics back, you will be the first ones I share them with. Promise.

--Post Title: "Our Halloween"--

First off, a little error correction. The article cited yesterday is by Justin Holcomb, not Mark Driscoll. Mark simply posted it on his Facebook status.

Anyway, in his article, Justin says:

 "It seems that Christians can easily receive (with wisdom) some cultural aspects of the holiday, and there is some potential for the pagan cultural practices to be redeemed—but care must be taken. There is a big difference between kids dressing up in cute costumes for candy and Mardi-Gras-like Halloween parties, offensive costumes, and uninhibited excess . . . for those Christians whose conscience permits we should view it as an opportunity to engage wisely with our culture."

And since our household is generally not tempted towards "uninhibited excess," and invitations to "Mardi-Gras-like parties" are few and far between, we feel it fairly safe, as a family, to participate in some aspects of Halloween. We are attempting to "redeem" the holiday, to use Justin's word.

For example, Lyndon and I went to three events last week that were basically an excuse for kids to wear costumes, play games and see their friends. One was hosted by our church and was a fantastic time for our church family to make some memories together. One was a MOMS Club annual event, at which I made new mom friends and Lyndon tackled the playground with some of his. And one was our local, downtown Trick or Treat night, a great chance to support local businesses and do something unusual as a family.

Oh, and then we went Trick or Treating with friends last night, and Lyndon still giggles with excitement when we talk about it. Holiday effectively redeemed. :-)

Yes, this is technically his entire costume (except shoes), but I think the misery on his face counts against it. This was the first time I tried putting him in it, and he hated it. Hated it so much, in fact, that I gave up and took most of it off . . .

 

See? Much happier. But much less cute. In theory, he was Alex the Lion from "Madagascar". At this particular party, he just carried his stuffed lion around and wore his t-shirt. I did manage to make the whole costume more comfortable for him by cutting the hood and tail off of the original fuzzy vest and attaching them to his sweatsuit. By the end of Halloween night, he didn't want to take it off. Unfortunately, that's the part of the camera card we lost. *sigh* At least you get the idea.