Mindfulness w/Kids

And now for a detour from my regular obsessions with food, books and the like for a brief update in the parenting department.

I recently posted a link on facebook about a film that the Michigan Collaboration for Mindfulness in Education will be showing on April 26th, "Room to Breathe." The film is about about a mindfulness program at a San Francisco public middle school and my son and I have bought our tickets and are going to the showing. We started mindfulness practice last summer and do it regularly. I credit it with his having the best school year ever and for both of us feeling better able to manage stress, bounce back from intense emotions and deal with difficult people and situations. As a mom, I also like the connection it establishes with my 13-year old*: it makes me feel like we'll be better able to navigate the storms of adolescence together and constructively.  After the facebook post, I received a number of questions from people and while I'm no expert on mindfulness, it sounds like people are interested and want to know what has worked for us. So I'm going to share some of what I've found here so those people who are interested might have a few shortcuts if they want to try and establish a practice with their kids.

There are a whole lot of books out there about the benefits of mindfulness and why you should do it. I've read some of them and found some helpful and if you know nothing about the reasoning behind mindfulness, then it might be good to pick up a few. Our library has a ton of books that you can check out. Thich Nat Hanh, Jon Kabat-Zinn and Pema Chodron are all good authors to try and see if what they say resonates. Or, if you prefer to listen to your information rather than read it, NPR has had lots of coverage about practicing mindfulness for everything from depression, to blood pressure control, to developing better business management skills. There are also lots of podcasts that you can subscribe to that discuss aspects of mindfulness. I like Zencast and Audio Dharma--you can listen to or download the episodes at the previous links, or subscribe to them in iTunes. Last summer when I was painting the exterior of our house I listened to many hours of talks by Andrea Fella, Gil Fronsdal and Jack Kornfield on various aspects of mindfulness.**

When it comes to actual practice, both my son and I like guided meditations and the occasional spoken affirmation. Maybe when we're better at it, we'll be able to meditate on our own without any recordings, but we aren't there yet. I am better able to calm my thoughts during the day when they get stormy without the use of a recording, but I still prefer to have a guide when we sit down to meditate. I've learned that there are lots of different options out there and not all will suit all people. My son and I have clear preferences for certain voices: there have been some meditations where we like the content, but don't like the speaker's voice. Some meditations have new-age music in the background and both of us prefer meditations that don't have music. But other people may have entirely different preferences--try a bunch and figure out what you like and what you don't.

Here are some resources/things I've found:

• The iTunes U series of Mindful Meditations is terrific (and free!). I feel lucky that we started with these meditations--we like Diana Winston's voice, there isn't any new age music that bugs both of us, and they aren't too long. Neither Ian nor I has the ability to meditate for more than about 25 minutes and we often want something a lot shorter to use as a quick "reset".  There are 2 and 3 minute meditations which we've been able to sneak in right before he leaves for school, even on pretty rushed days and 8 to 10 minute ones that we do regularly on non-rushed mornings. I think they help a lot in waking up his brain and making a kid who is totally not a morning person more able to learn first thing in the morning.
• One meditation coach we like is Jon Kabat-Zinn. Our library has a number of his CDs with guided meditations (and his books, too) so you can try them out and see if he clicks for you. (If your library doesn't carry them, you can also listen to some previews of his meditation CDs in iTunes and see if you like them before purchasing.)
• There are some free meditations and affirmations here at the web site My Thought Coach. I like some of them and am not so fond of others so it is a trial and error kind of thing. If you find them helpful, there is a month-by-month paid subscription that you can sign up for that lets you access all the content you want. You can download unlimited episodes while you have your subscription so you don't have to pay forever if you don't want to (and if you value the ease of just going to the website and listening from there, the cost isn't crazy).
• Another one we like is Bohipaksa (he has a nice warm voice with Scottish accent). In particular the CD Guided Meditations for Busy People suits our attention spans.
• Another set of  meditations that we really like is called The Practice of Mindfulness: 6 Guided Practices and it is available for a free download if you sign up for an e-newsletter at the Sounds True website (you can unsubscribe after downloading, if you want).
• There are some guided meditation podcasts that I subscribe to (Audio Dharma and Zencast sometimes have episodes that are guided meditations, but they tend to be pretty long), and we use these occasionally. There are two Stin Hansen affirmations that we downloaded from iTunes ("Think Like a Great Student" and "Inner Peace--Affirmations for Growing Up in a Crazy World") that are good on days when we need a positive pick me up. And you can also just type in meditation podcasts in iTunes and see if anything appeals to your particular taste.

I've set up four playlists on iTunes which organize our guided meditations into categories and it makes it easy to pick one from the list without having to dig through my library: Before School, Short Meditations, Longer Meditations, Bedtime Meditations.

I've tried a couple of meditation and mindfulness apps for my iPod touch, but so far haven't found anything that we'll use. Knowing how particular we are when it comes to voices/music, I won't pay for an app unless I get to try it out first, so that does limit our options to the apps that have at least one or two free tracks (and then switch to in-app purchases).  If you have tried any and found them helpful, please let me know.

_____________
*So far, my 11 year old wants nothing to do with our mindfulness practice, though she is willing to leave us alone to do it. But she's also a much calmer person and is already naturally able to recover quickly from difficult emotional states, rather than dragging them with her like a ball and chain for the rest of the day.  Maybe when she's more of a teenager, if/when things get rocky, I'll be more persuasive in my sales-pitch, but for now "forcing" her to try mindfulness practice is too contradictory of a concept for me to attempt!

**I should also note here that we are not a religious family and our practice has not included the spiritual aspects of Buddhism. We're atheist humanists and have found mindfulness practice completely compatible with our world view.

Easing two picky eaters toward some degree of normalcy

I've got a new mission and I am finally determined to pursue it.

I am going to ease my two picky kids toward some degree of normalcy in the food realm.

I've joked for years that their pickiness is my punishment for being overly fixated on food. I've attempted to face this down in bursts but then would fall back to old patterns. I've had massive temper tantrums in the kitchen and at the dining room table when they defeat me with their stubbornness. (I always thought no one was more stubborn than me. Turns out that they not only inherited it from me but have amplified it with their own distinct and strong personalities.)

Why do I think I might have a chance this time when they have defeated me in past attempt? Well, they are getting older (9 and 11). And that means that they are getting (a little) more logical. And recently they have shown small signs of adaptation: they both tried salsa when they were at a Mexican restaurant. They both will eat a little plain lettuce (we started with iceberg, that gateway-lettuce, but now they'll eat romaine and Boston and green leaf, too.) And there are a couple of other individual specific reasons too:

The boy like to travel. Loves it, in fact. I bluntly stated to him that there are places in the world which I won't take him until he starts eating more foods because I don't plan to go to, say, Spain, and have his eating habits be a restriction on our movements. [Not that I have the $ to take him to Spain--he doesn't need to know this. And much as I'd love to, a trip to Thailand or India or China isn't in the works for any of us, so we're talking about mainly different European and Latin American types of dishes.]  I described to him some of the cool places I've been and then told him that while what they regularly eat may be unfamiliar, it is something that a person with a flexible attitude can adapt to. This seemed to get through to him.

The girl likes people. And I told her if you want to spend time with people and not annoy the crap out of them, you need to eat what is available. Friends aren't going to invite you to stay to dinner if you won't try what is on offer. It doesn't mean you have to love it. It doesn't mean you have to eat a lot of it. But it does mean that you can't get distressed when it is something unfamiliar and that you need to broaden your repertoire of "safe" foods so that there is a likelihood that you will encounter at least one of them.


Things I'm willing to do:

1. Keep it mild. I love spicy food and don't plan on giving it up, but I can make spicy sauces on the side or add spice at the end after serving them.
2. Make a good amount of the new stuff side-dishes so they don't have to freak out at everything on their plates. Since I've recently gone low-meat, and they are decidedly pro-meat this isn't too hard. I don't mind making a turkey burger or plain chicken breast for them so long as the big pile of roasted fennel, sweet potatoes and carrots and potatoes that I make for my own main dish is a small-portion side dish to them.
3. Add the unfamiliar to the familiar. Like putting a small amount of salsa and sour cream on their quesidillas and expecting them to tolerate its appearance.

I am going to try and document things that worked both to share with other people who may be in the same predicament as I'm in* and to keep track and use as a crutch for my lousy memory. Since this only appeals to a small subset of those of you who still actually read this blog, I've decided to segregate the posts here:

http://thepickyeaterchronicles.blogspot.com/

If you are faced with a picky eater of your own, I hope you'll join me and make this a group effort to ease the picky eaters of the world toward a place where they don't drive the rest of us bat-shit crazy.

*I realize that when you've met one picky eater you've met...one picky eater and we all have different definitions of picky. I actually heard one parent describe her child as picky when he wouldn't eat kohlrabi. Ha!

My head just exploded*

Both kids just ate red quinoa and a small bowl of lettuce** with their dinner. I'm squinting, but there may be a little light at the end of this hellacious crappy-eater tunnel.

*The boy critter's phrase for being flabergasted.
**ok so the lettuce was iceberg. Plain. No dressing. But I ate plenty of iceberg as a kid and I'm going to think of it as a "gateway" salad vegetable.

The picky eater chronicles continue...

Photo from Wikipedia

Yesterday Ian got a good firm talking-to by his doctor about diversifying his eating choices so after the appointment we headed to the produce section of the grocery store for each kid to pick out a fresh fruit or vegetable they don't usually eat (which leaves pretty much everything but the apple aisle in play for Ian with the carrot section added for Fiona).

Ian picked out a big hunk of watermelon and Fiona picked out a star fruit. I don't know if there were any two fruits more out-of-season and non-local that the kids could possibly pick, but one battle at a time.

And through a great deal of wheedling, I got Ian to try the star fruit--and he liked it! And not for the novelty shape factor (which is why Fiona chose it--she took one bite and looked like she was going to hurl). Both kids ate some watermelon at dinner and Fiona even asked for seconds.

This small success balances out the fact that when Ian tried a spoonful of my red lentil soup on Sunday, he ran to the garbage can, spit it out and rinsed out his mouth with water at the sink with a great deal of theatrical spitting.

Batty

I'm a little amazed, but my latest attempt with my sewing machine did not leave me batty or swearing a blue streak (unlike, dare I remind you, last time). The girl critter wanted to be a bat for Halloween and no, she would not be satisfied with a purchased bat superhero costume--she is into animals, not superheros. So it was time to drag that crafty side of myself out of hibernation.

First we assembled materials:
Some black satin that was on sale at Joann's, a McCall's #3329 pattern to crib the bat hood and smock (the pattern is for a superhero jumpsuit) that was on sale for 99 cents, and a black umbrella from the dollar store.

The hood and the sleeve caps were a little fiddly, but luckily a costume that has to hold together for three events (Halloween concert at Hill, school party on Friday and Saturday trick or treating) can have plenty of wrinkles and fraying edges and still look ok.

I contemplated leaving some of the wire frame on the umbrella to look like wing-bones, but then realized the kid would probably impale herself or one of her friends. So off they came! It looks good enough to me, and, despite her very serious visage in the photo below, the girl critter is happily flapping around the house.

After my encounter with a real bat in the house this summer, I just have to resist the temptation to reach for a tennis racket and take a swing.

Letting go

I'm really good at mad. But I'm not going to do mad right now.

I'm referring to this infuriating information: that until 12 months ago SIGG, which promoted itself as a safe alternative to Nalgene (and other plastic) bottles that contained the endocrine disruptor BPA, was actually lining their bottles with an epoxy that contained, you guessed it, BPA! They have changed the liner on new SIGGs (and were very quiet not to mention the BPA problem until the stock of the old BPA containing bottles were sold) and will give people who return their old SIGGs coupons for replacement bottles. But the whole shebang reeks of corporate coverup. The blogger Sarah Gilbert did a very nice job of detailing the sliminess--if you have the stomach to read it. (There's also a well-explained post from a store that pulled SIGGs.)

A parent on the wonderfully informative yahoo group list arborparents posted about this and another told me she received a postage paid return label. So I wrote to SIGG and asked for one because I don't want to spend a nickel more and they refused. Then I wrote to the CEO and mentioned that I knew they had issued postage paid return labels and would he authorize one.

He refused.

The CEO told me that he and his kids still drink out of the bottles with the BPA-containing liner (though he neglected to mention that his family also has gills...joking!). He offered me cleaning tablets (because I don't know how to wash out a water bottle? Huh? Or maybe it's something specially formulated to block the BPAs....) which probably would cost more than the return shipping I was requesting.

Clearly I have lived too long in a town where customer service and happiness is taken seriously. So ZingTrain, if you have anyone free to give a seminar, I know of a company that could really use your services! Or maybe the CEO, Steve Wasik, should read this book:
Yes, the title is Satisfied Customers Tell Three Friends, Angry Customers Tell 3000. You, dear reader, are one of my 3000.

All this crummy corporate bullshit is upsetting enough but here's the worst part: I was so pissed when I was receiving and responding to their e-mails that, when my girl critter wandered into my office requesting a cup of grape juice (which, she knows, is not hiding under mom's desk but located in the fridge; however, since I keep it in a heavy non-BPA leaching Frigoverre glass pitcher, she still needs me to pour it), I snapped at her. Actually I yelled. I was so pissed at SIGG that my shoulders were up around my ears and I looked like Nixon and I dare say I behaved like him too (treating those around me like crap, not the break-in part). And the little critter jumped. And that's just not right. (I went and apologized to her and told her that I wasn't mad at her, I was mad at the crummy company that made her dinosaur water bottle. She doesn't appear to be too traumatized by her mother's inability to compartmentalize her anger though I probably should add a few extra dollars to her college/therapy fund).

And that's when I realized that Steve and his crummy company were not worth it. Not worth the anger. Not worth pursuing a free shipping label on principle even though it means that someone sleazy is getting away with something.

So you know what? I'm going to try and breathe my way through this.

In one of my yoga classes, the teacher got us to assume a pose like a pretzel--I had trouble figuring out how my left arm was twisted around my right leg and how exactly I was able to see the sole of my left foot which normally isn't so close to my eyes but finally got into the pose. And once there she said: "Keep breathing. Remember if you can breathe through this pose you can breathe through pretty much anything that life throws at you." So. This isn't so bad. I can breathe through this.

So now I am turning to you folks for advice. To say that the water I drink from any SIGG will taste bitter now is an understatement. I refuse to have these bottles in my family's life any more. It just makes me too flipping mad when I see them and I don't think I want quite that much practice breathing.

I'll eat the postage to get these things out of the house and to make the company pay out for new ones because that's the only way to reach these people--through their wallets. But what should I do with the replacements since I can't stand the sight of them? (Hello Klean Kanteen! You'll be getting our business soon!) It'll be a set of 4 different sized bottles ranging from .4 L to .75 L.

I was thinking maybe I could donate the new ones somewhere. My kids' former preschool has an annual fundraising auction. Do you think anyone would buy a set of 4 new water bottles at an auction? That way at least the money I originally spent (over $50 agggggh!) would actually work its way to a good cause.

Any other ideas? Help me make this letting go as painless as it can be. Send me your suggestions. Send me your peaceful thoughts to help me forgive icky people for their ickyness.
And breathe with me.
In--
And out.
In--
And out.

Summer

We're back from our trip out to MA to visit my sister and the critters and I are now suffering from Aunty Anna, assorted amphibian and Basenji withdrawal.

Look at that sweet boy. I didn't mind one bit that he was blocking my book and I'm usually kind of grouchy when my book is blocked.

We've had an active and interesting summer up until last week, but the days we spent with Anna felt like the way summer is supposed to be--very relaxed, very hot, very fun. Maybe she was planning up a storm in the background, but I certainly wasn't and it felt like we flowed from one thing to the next: swimming and frog catching at Potter's Pond, eating cumin and yogurt marinated tofu and carrot salad, appreciating the air conditioner after a 94 degree day with 98 percent humidity, getting invited along to visit Anna's friend Rosie's magical family and swimming with a hoard of her nieces and nephews, jumping on a trampoline, and eating ice cream cones that dripped down our arms before we could finish them.
I'm pretty sure that this is what summer is all about.

A bowl of warmth

It was 19 degrees F outside this morning when the critters and I went on our walk to the Farmer's Market. We go every Saturday morning, partly because I like the ritual, and partly because the boy has a piano lesson later in the morning and if we don't get him some exercise before it, then he! bounces! off! the! walls! and has trouble concentrating on the music. It's about 1 mile each way from our house and that is sufficient to get the spazz out (well, most days...)

There isn't as much to buy in the winter, though we usually still pick up a dozen eggs, some cider, and maybe some hoop-house spinach. And the kids each get a cookie--the kind I don't make at home with frosting and sprinkles--as a reward. I'm kind of amazed that they are always game to go on this forced march with me (they even went last week when there was horizontal sleet hitting us in the face!) but I guess dangling a crappy cookie in front of them does wonders in the motivation department.

So now that we have established that it is cold outside but that we must go out in it, the project becomes making warming foods as a reward for those of us not motivated by crappy cookies. Soup is always good, but I have a new favorite warming dish of late:
It may just look like pasta with a meaty sauce, but look a little closer. There's ground lamb in there, and cubes of soft roasted eggplant, and some of those slow roasted tomatoes I made last summer. There is a tangy garlic-yogurt-mint sauce to offset the richness. And then, my favorite and the feature that makes the recipe over-the-top-comforting: some browned butter poured over the top.

This tasted really good served with a plain spinach salad with a sharp vinaigrette, but I can also imagine making a big bowl of this and just curling up on the couch with it while reading a good book, or watching a decent movie.

I adapted this from a recipe in the NYTimes that describes itself as deconstructed Turkish dumplings. I've never had Turkish dumplings but now I would like to try them!

Warmth-in-a-bowl

1 large or 2 small eggplants, about 1 pound, in 1/2 -inch cubes
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon kosher or coarse sea salt, more to taste
3 fat garlic cloves, minced
1 medium onion, minced
1 pound ground lamb
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes
Freshly ground black pepper to taste
2 t dried dill
1 C canned diced tomatoes (drained) or your own slow roasted tomatoes, if you have them
1/2 pound bowtie pasta (I made it with bowtie the first time and the corkscrew noodles pictured above the second and kind of prefer the bowties)
2 to 6 tablespoons unsalted butter, to taste
1 cup plain yogurt, set in a towel lined sieve to drain for about 1/2 an hour (or use about 2/3 C Greek yogurt)
1/2 C chopped fresh mint (optional, but good)

1. Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Bring a pot of water to boil for pasta.
2. Toss eggplant with 2 tablespoons oil and a large pinch of salt. Spread on a baking sheet, making sure there is room between pieces, and roast until crisp and brown, stirring a couple of times, 15 to 20 minutes.
3. In a large skillet, heat remaining tablespoon oil. Add 2 minced garlic cloves and the onion and sauté until fragrant, 1 to 2 minutes. Add lamb and sauté until lamb is no longer pink, about 5 minutes. Drain off excess fat (after all, you will be dumping butter over the resulting dish...) Then add 1/2 teaspoon salt, red pepper flakes, dill and black pepper to taste. Stir eggplant and tomatoes into lamb. Taste and adjust seasonings--you may need more salt.
4. In a small bowl, stir together yogurt, remaining garlic, chopped mint and a pinch of salt. Cook pasta according to package directions.
5. When pasta is almost done, in a small saucepan, melt butter: the amount is to your taste (at least 1 T per serving). Let cook until it turns golden brown and smells nutty (about 5 minutes) but be careful not to burn it.
6. Drain pasta and spread on a serving platter. Top with lamb-eggplant-tomato mixture, then with yogurt sauce. Pour melted butter over top. Sprinkle on additional red pepper and more mint or dill, if you like. Serve immediately.
   

out of the mouth of my surly babe

I promise I'll stop talking about the election soon. But first I must report this conversation between Fiona and her Granny Jan:

Scene: a small girl and her Granny are driving in the car. On the side of the road, they see someone walking a dalmatian dog.

Granny: Fiona, see the dalmatian? Does that make you think of the 101 Dalmatians movie?

Fiona: I don't like that movie.

Granny: Why not?

Fiona: Because Cruella De Vil wants to take the skins off the puppies and make a coat out of them.

Granny: That is a really mean thing to do. Really nasty.

Fiona: I bet Sarah Palin would do that.

(Granny has to concentrate hard to keep the car on the road because she is laughing so hard.)

snort!

The critter thought it was fun. When I told him that today wasn't a test day and he'd have to wait until Thursday, he gave a big sigh of disappointment. Yet again, I am left scratching my head.

I had another head-scratching moment today in relation to my vegetable garden. I think I've mentioned how disappointing my garden has been this year: 3 of the tomatoes got wilt and 2 got the bottom rotting fungus, beans died, cucumber withered, lettuce was nibbled by cute baby bunnies, spinach bolted, zucchini plants flowered then turned yellow and died, carrots stayed stumpy and barely edible, need I go on? The only vegetables I got enough of were arugula, kale, peas, scallions and basil. So I've decided to get a farm share next year and just plant fun stuff in the garden--pumpkins, potatoes, peas, (only vegetables that start with the letter P?), stuff that we never can have too much of and that won't impact our diet too much if they fail.

With such a track record of plant death and destruction, when I saw one of the few surviving tomato plants dropping its tomatoes before they turned red I assumed it was another failure and my thumb was turning a fine shade of black.
Only today I remembered that I had planted a yellow tomato plant and they were falling off the vine because they are ripe. Snort!

The MEAP tip toe

Tomorrow my oldest critter takes his first standardized test. Sigh.

A friend whose son goes to another Ann Arbor public school, one that is really well regarded and not a struggling school by any stretch of the imagination, told me that they started MEAP prep in the second half of 2nd grade and that her son's teacher had to cut the dinosaur unit from their curriculum in order to get in enough test prep. This just breaks my heart (she was very disappointed about this too).

In her weekly note last week, the Principal at my son's school wrote a strong statement about how standardized tests are contrary to the holistic program at the school but that, darn it, the kids have to take the thing. The preparation for the test consisted of showing the kids a sample test a couple of weeks ago and telling them to get a good night sleep and eat a good breakfast. I'm trying to take a similarly resigned-but-supportive attitude, but since my kid is a lousy sleeper and eater, I gotta admit that I do feel a little tense.

So I'm doing what I can and am churning out batches of mini banana chocolate chip muffins (without the ground almonds and with soy instead of cow milk to accommodate allergies) for the kids to snack on between testing blocks.
So hey, my house smells great and for all I know, my kid is quirky enough to think that the test is fun!

Better

Thank you for all the heartening words about the trials of parenting and how it is kinda normal to want to wring the necks of your progeny. Tonight I am drinking:
Pomegranate Cranberry juice with some Pama pomegranate liqueur, a splash of club soda and a whole squeezed lime on ice.

Though yippie and hurrah I am not drinking it because I need to, but because it is nice and refreshing and why not?

Thank god for camp. In particular the camp the kids are going to this week which is run by real adults, not rah-rah college student counselors. Not that there is anything particularly wrong with the rah-rah type camp, but we are not really rah-rah types. Those kind of people usually scare us. We are more the dweeby type and whoooa boy is this camp run by some lovely caring dweebs. My kids are each taking three "enrichment" classes which include Fencing, Baking, Ooey Gooey Chemistry, Little Ninjas (combo of karate and dodge ball from what I've seen), Self Defense for Kids and a math class that provides ample quantities of candy for math problems completed. They come home tired, they come home happy and they come home with interesting stories to tell me about things they learned. Way better than spending time with a pissy guilty mom (though not as cheap of course...)

While they are gone I am getting a blissful taste of what my writing future holds in the near future (school starts Sept 2nd!). I've been so happy to have the kids go to a place where the people are kind and their brains (and bodies) are kept active while I hunker down and work on my novel. This summer has been hard on the writing front and it is now pretty clear to me that some of my frustration with the kids has been frustration with a lack of opportunity for me to write. This book is stewing about in my head a lot of the time and clearly keeping it cooped up in there is not good for my psychic health.

In other obsessive news, I finished reading a lovely children's novel, The Mysterious Benedict Society by Trenton Lee Stewart. It's an adventure starring four gifted children who together take down an evil genius. While their world is richly imagined and the plot moves quickly, what I particularly liked was how each of the characters demonstrated a different sort of intelligence. If you read any sort of educational theory you come across "multiple intelligences" with "word smart" and "number smart" being the two that are most rewarded in our educational system (just look at any I.Q. test) while "kinesthetic smart" and "interpersonal smart" are less emphasized. This novel shows how none of the children can be successful without the others and thus the acrobatic girl is as valuable a team member as the boy who is a walking dictionary. Even the curious fourth member of the book, Constance, who seems to be grumpy, hungry and tired most of the time, proves to be absolutely key to their team with her intrapersonal intelligence--this is one girl who knows herself! The playful tone of the novel reminded me of Roald Dahl, without as much of his dark side. My kids are a still a bit scared of the cruelty of some of Dahls characters, so this one is a safer bet for a successful read-aloud. And even nicer news for me, there is a sequel!

I call it Kate's Coping Strategy

After a day of a lot of effort for zero gratitude, I mixed myself one of these:
vodka, lemon sorbet, splash of orange juice, club soda, lime and a little pomegranate liqueur poured over some ice. Or basically whatever I could lay my hands on that didn't sound disgusting when mixed together.

Then I took it outside and sat on the front step and watched cars go by on Summit St.

The worst thing about being this fed up with the small people inside the house was that I was also too tired to do anything more restorative than have a big old drink. Too tired to go for a walk on a beautiful evening, too tired to call up a friend and go out for some fun/relief, too tired even to listen to the radio, which is pretty pathetic on the tiredness scale.

I think the worst thing about how I feel is the guilt--I feel incredibly guilt that I am not treasuring every moment with my kids, even when they are being little shits. Sometimes I look at my daughter's hand in mine and think "It'll never be this small again--her hand will get bigger and she will get sick of me and I won't have appreciated the moments that she adored me enough." It doesn't help that I have a really sucky memory for reality. I can recount the plot of a book I read ten years ago, I can recite lines from my favorite poem from senior year of high school (The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock) but for the life of me, I can't remember a lot of significant stuff about my kids' lives, stuff that Brian or my mom will sometimes refer to and I only dimly know what the hell they are talking about.

So while my kids are being ungrateful little wretches and sucking the energy from the marrow of my bones, I feel guilty. Maybe I'd have more energy if I just felt mad.

Though I must say, I do not feel so guilty that I won't spend the damn money to send them to camp next week so that people who are getting paid will deal with them and I will get some time to write.

ahhhhhh

The kids have been subdued, this is what my sangria pitcher looks like and I feel much better now that the malondialdehyde and hydroperoxide in my system have been neutralized by the polyphenols in the wine. And I also feel better because of the ALCOHOL!

I made it with a bottle of La Vieille Ferme red--super cheap this month at $5.47 a bottle at Plum Market--a lemon, a lime, some sugar, and what was left in the triple sec bottle. The swig of wine I took before dumping it in the pitcher made me think it would be fine without the (ahem) fortifications, no bells and whistles, but perfectly drinkable which is more than I can say for most wine at this price.

uggggggg

The kids have no camp, no plans, no nothing this week and they are driving me nuts. Fiona, at the tender age of 5, has learned to whine "I'm bored" like a droopy teenager. Due to this pleasant state of the homestead, I have come to two realizations: 1) I better find some kind of camp for the other week we have nothing planned or else I'll throttle them and 2) I am not drinking enough wine, especially considering that Slashfood reported on research that red wine increases longevity. It looks like a pitcher of sangria is going to be made and consumed tonight.

Cripes!

One of the key items that kept us sane while driving from Colorado back to Ann Arbor was a book on CD that I checked out of the library. I had read Kate Dicamillo's The Tale of Desperaux a few years ago and thought it was a lovely book; when I saw the audio version, I thought the kids would like it and it was a book that I wouldn't mind revisiting.

Now I'm raving about this book on CD to everyone I know, even those folks who don't have kids. It really was one of the best readings I have experienced. Graeme Malcom captured every nuance of the prose and each character's voice was incredibly distinct. Sometimes I feel like an audio book is a nice supplement to reading the book, but doesn't necessarily capture everything the printed book has to offer; maybe it is the pacing or maybe it just doesn't match up with the voices I hear in my head. But this book on CD stands alone just fine and does an even better job with the various accents than I could in my imagination. The kids loved it and so did Brian to the point that we didn't want to stop the car because then we'd have to stop the story. We've taken to quoting memorable lines to each other: Miggery Sow's "Gaw!", Antoinette's "Eeet eeez such a disappointment" and Desperaux's brother's regular exclamation "Cripes!"

I also brought along an audio copy of some Junie B. Jones books (which we've never read but a mom I know told me that her kids laughed at the audio version) and found the narrator's voice so excruciatingly shrill that it was only on for about 5 minutes before I hit the eject button. Believe me, we didn't need to import any more examples of shrillness into that car; my kids were doing a fine job on their own!

I selfishly brought with me the second half of Inkspell on CD (at 15 CDs it takes a while to get through) which I listened to on my mp3 player. I'm sure Brian would have enjoyed this book, but I thought it was too scary for the kids. The first book, Inkheart, was read by Lynn Redgrave, who I thought did a pretty good job with the reading--her voice is deep enough that she can capture the male characters well. But Inkspell was better, both in the plot and in the reading. It was read by Brendan Frasier, who apparently has become good buddies with Cornelia Funke and appears as Mo in the forthcoming movie of Inkheart. The plot of the novel is perfect for a book-dweeb like me in which the people in the book find they can "read" themselves into the plot of their favorite novel. The rampant book-love that runs throughout the series is very gratifying (one of the characters refers to her books as "her children") and Inkspell also played with all kinds of perplexing literary questions about narrative, agency and rewriting of plots. I can imagine some happy grad student writing a paper about the meta-narratives in the book and how the author handles all of them (if only they let grad students read something as fun as this book). Though I think this is a well-read book on CD, I did need to go back and read the book in the hardcover version when we got back. One thing I discovered was that Funke starts each chapter with a quotation and these quotations are not in the audio version. Many of them are really lovely and varied so I was happy to get these little gems of authorial emphasis in addition to the chance to read at my own pace and wallow in the plot for as long as I liked.

And to close with a bit of good news, the third book in the trilogy, Inkdeath, comes out in October!

Antidote

Today I fervently embarked on concocting an antidote to the mediocre road food I consumed while on vacation:

A caramelized onion, goat cheese and pancetta tart with a salad from the garden with two kinds of lettuce, peas and snipped chives. And a glass of The Wolftrap syrah that some nice friend left at my house.

There is plenty of good food to be had in Colorado, but my access to it was limited by the two picky eaters with whom I traveled. I gave myself a talking to before we left in the hope that my frustration level at missing out on good available food would not impact my affection for my kids. And mostly it worked. But I was craving my kind of food in a big way when we got back, so despite the fact that no one had clean underwear, the bags remained unpacked and the cat was desperate for attention, I spent a good amount of time today making tart crust, caramelizing onions (which I'd forgotten take forever to caramelize without burning) and heading over to the garden to harvest lettuces from between the really tall weeds that had sprung up in the week of neglect. Priorities people! The Kate Monster must be fed!

Brian was working in Colorado and the kids and I flew out to meet him, then we all went camping together at Rocky Mountain National Park before driving back to Michigan. While we were there

a boy I know turned 8 years old,

we hung out with some marmots who were mighty blase about their spectacular surroundings,

we went to a place where kids feel big and grown ups feel huge,
and we hiked up to exquisite mountain lakes and feasted on the views.

So the lack of literal feasting wasn't such a hardship after all. But I'm glad to be back to my verdant garden where I can make myself the kind of food I love.

Plastic surgery...for dragons

Recently Fiona has become much more critical of the stuffed animal dragons she owns. I was told that a purple dragon (which she asked Santa for the day before Christmas thus sending Brian on a mad dash all over the place trying to find one--mental note, get the kids to visit Santa way before Christmas Eve this coming year) had to be sent back to Santa. This wasn't right after she received it, mind you; she had been insanely in love with Darby as soon as she saw him. This occurred a good two months later. One morning she she came downstairs sobbing because Darby didn't have horns.

I tried guilt tripping the kid into thinking she'd hurt Santa's feelings if she sent it back. No deal. She was sobbing so hard that it was getting hard to understand her, but I think the gist of what she was saying was that Santa's elves could fix him and at least then he'd be happy because he'd have what every dragon needs.

Sigh. The kid would rather have the toy be happy and "complete" than keep it herself and have it living a life unfulfilled. Once I realized she wasn't being a completely selfish little brat, I figured I'd have to give a little minor plastic surgery a try.

I dug through my fabric stash and found some brown wool felt. I got Fiona to draw what Darby's horns were supposed to look like, took her pattern, cut out the felt and sewed the horns on. They aren't perfect, but they made her happy, Darby didn't have to be shipped back to Santa and it wasn't that much work.

But now, four months after receiving a beautiful Chinese Dragon for her birthday, King Kornivised Keenivore (as he is known) was presented to me for his own much more extensive surgical enhancements. No tears this time, which was a relief, but maybe an excess of confidence in the surgeon's talents. King has horns, but no wings, no nostrils (which I was told makes breathing fire very challenging) and no triangle on the tip of his tail.
He looks pretty good to me (ok, the lack of nostrils is a little weird when you start to think about it...) but look at that eager little face waiting for Mama-the-surgeon to work her magic.

Wings are a lot trickier than horns. We had to use Google images to look at all the dragon wing options and I managed to steer her toward some I thought I might be able to reproduce. I dug out some more brown wool felt--two colors this time so that the underside of the wings would be a different color, and to give the wings a little heft so they wouldn't be flaccid (horrors! flaccid wings!)
I used some embroidery thread to add some (primitive) veins.
Then I sewed them on his back. They looked pretty good for my first wingoplasty.

Riding on that success we added the triangle to the tail. Fiona still hasn't come up with a good explanation of what purpose the triangle serves. Rudder, perhaps?
Then I got out more embroidery thread and added some black flaring nostrils. Luckily the photo is blurry because these were a lot harder than they looked. I still can't quite figure out why--I mean, embroidering an oval, how hard can it be? But I had to rip out a few really lumpy and lopsided nostrils before we got a couple of acceptable nostrils (though they are a little petite for a truly ferocious dragon).
Life is much better with nostrils. At least, that's what King told me.

So what comes next? Am I going to be asked to graft talons on toes? She did suggest I sew scales all over a furry dragon and I just pretended I didn't hear her. But if she wears me down and pulls another of those heartbreaking sobbing fits...well, maybe dragon skin grafts are in my future.

U Pick without the pain!

Yesterday I discovered that you can do U Pick and not by physically uncomfortable! The (wonderful, atypical) cool weather we are having meant I took Ian, Fiona, their friend Nick and my mom (aka Granny Jan) out to Rowe's Produce Farm to pick a peck of peas and some strawberries and I didn't sweat buckets! And the kids didn't start complaining after 5 minutes that they were hot and wanted to go home! I've dragged these kids on many a U Pick adventure, but we've never worn long pants and never left the fields still feeling sane (though I always leave feeling a little full...)

Because my kids are strange, they were much more enthusiastic about picking peas than strawberries. Peas are the only green vegetable they eat. Ian ate one and said "Yummy!" which I think I have waited about 6 years to hear (since he decided at age 2 to become a conservative eater). We only got him to try peas again last summer and he realized that despite being green, they are not evil.
Besides, you can also pretend to have a long green nose with a pea...who knew they provided such entertainment value!

Then we headed over to the strawberry field and I helped my mom pick a load of strawberries for her to make jam (I'm too lazy to make my own and she's a nice mom and gives me some).
I brought home about a quart of berries just for snacking, but I didn't need too many because as I mentioned, my kids are strange and don't eat strawberries (they will eat strawberry jam.) But their friend Nick loves strawberries almost as much as he loves arugula (yup, a 5 year old who eats plain arugula like my kids eat potato chips). So while Fiona and Ian played in the dirt, Nick kept me and Granny Jan company and I got the gratifying view of a boy with strawberry juice dripping down his chin:
Once I told Nick that anything he ate in the field was free (the foolish farm owners didn't weigh him on the way in and on the way out!) he went a little crazy. I hope he didn't have a tummy ache later.

For dinner I made a pasta dish that just screams "Spring!":
It's whole wheat spaghetti, ricotta, lots of snipped basil, thyme and oregano, some garlic sauteed in olive oil (I wish I'd had some of my green garlic, but couldn't make the trip over to the garden to pick some), a lot of ground black pepper, and those glorious peas. I wanted to preserve the perfection of the peas so I didn't really cook them: I just put the shelled peas in the bottom of the colander and when the spaghetti was done, I drained it over the peas. It was even briefer than blanching. I ate two heaping bowls of this and plan to eat the same thing all weekend, at least until my pea supply runs out!

Torn between yelling and praise...

I'm having a parenting moment in which I am terribly torn between yelling at my kid and praising her.

I went into her room this morning and found this:

[translation of the writing in the photo from Left to Right: PUFECATBED=Puffy Cat's Bed, PUFECALIDERBOCS=Puffy Cat's Litter Box and PUFECATFOODBUL=Puffy Cat's Food Bowl]

Wow! What great writing for a 5 year old! Damn! That writing will never come off! Sigh.

The offending toy (Puffy Cat) being put in "toy time out" (i.e. the top shelf of my closet)

Despite the fact that she used "washable" markers it won't come off. With a Mr. Clean Magic Eraser I can get it to fade a little, but it also takes the latex paint off the wall.

I had a similarly conflicted moment a few weeks ago when Brian was out of town and I was trying to get the kids in bed. Fiona had a spectacular meltdown--normally I'd say she's the easier of my two kids, but when she loses it, she really loses it. After an incredible display of lung power, I finally got her to go in her room to calm down, but while I was trying to get Ian settled, she went down stairs, got a piece of paper and wrote:

"I HAT MOMY"

and drew a picture of a heart with a red line through it. Then she marched back upstairs and taped it to the wall of Ian's bedroom (where I was) which triggered his protective urge and then he was yelling at her for being unkind and she was screaming again at both of us. I didn't know how to react since I was conflicted between praising the good writing and being completely sick of dealing with the tantrum which, far from being over, had now escalated to include her brother.