Dads

I've learned a lot of important lessons from my dad.  As a teacher, my dad has the knack of getting a lesson through to you in a memorable way.  I remember one morning sitting at the breakfast table as a kid and dad turned the Aunt Jemima syrup upside down with the cap still on.  The thick goldeny syrup poured to the narrow neck of the bottle, leaving only a little space at the bottom of the upside down container.  "Now, is there more syrup in this container?"  A math lesson of volume and capacity at the breakfast table. 

My dad taught me a lot about many different things--how to save money, how to start a campfire properly, how to pitch a tent, read a compass, about the importance of saying "I'm sorry" in a relationship, about spirituality, theology, religion and relationship.  Lessons you think we never listened to as kids, but ones that have hung on since childhood.

Dad, I know we gave you a lot of sleepless nights even into our twenties.  Nights when each of us came home well after midnight and there you were sitting at the computer screen pretending there was nothing else better to do than be on the computer at 1:00 am.  But the moment our doors clicked closed for the night, off the computer screen went and you could finally sleep, knowing we were all at home.  I think I might know a little bit of what that will be like.  Thank you for worrying over us, praying for us and loving us.

And to this man in our lives, whose patience, intuition and innate parenting skills continue to impress me.  When things get completely crazy around here, he always find some way to calm the chaos and keep us on an even keel. It is clear how much the littles adore this father of theirs, how much they dislike him going to work and watch for him at the window to come home.  Despite full days of work and trying to complete a masters, he still has a seemingly endless supply of energy to go for bike rides, play hockey, go camping in the back yard, read a million books and sit with Gabriel forever until he goes to sleep.  I can only hope that as they grow up, they continue to admire and want to be like their dad as much as young adults as they do now.  They have every right to be pretty darn proud of this man, just as I am. Parenthood is just such an amazing, tumultuous and life-changing journey as you watch these little creatures unfurl before your very eyes and you just pray you aren't screwing them up too badly and that really you are giving them the best nurturing foundations to be successful in life.  I'm just so thankful that I get to be on this journey with this man.

Happy Father's Day to our fathers, my husband and all the other important men of influence in our lives. Your presence in our lives as models of compassion, strength, hard work ethic and loyalty are invaluable.

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Fostering a love for cooking: Baking with my one year old

Laurie Colwin once said, “No one who cooks, cooks alone. Even at her most solitary, a cook in the kitchen is surrounded by generations of cooks past, the advice and menus of cooks present, the wisdom of cookbook writers.”

I remember when I was very little watching my grandmother,"Grammy" cook at their old house that was part of the hardware store--pot roasts and cranberry pudding with caramel sauce.  The kitchen was a place we spent a lot of time in: talking, waiting for food, socializing or just passing through on our way somewhere else.  It was the center of that old house.  And my parent's home was much the same way.  It's the first place you go to congregate, to wait for coffee, to bake cookies in, but mostly it's a place to spend time in the company of family.

 

In our house now, even though the kitchen isn't very big, it's a place all parties like to happen--Abe waiting for the latest droppings and Gabriel stirring his bowl of "key soup."  Our little kitchen too, seems to be the place to congregate.  And I guess I'm ok with that, even if the kitchen is a total disaster or I feel like I am constantly tripping over pots and pans and smaller bodies (did I mention that I've started using the "baby prison" I put in the kitchen)--it seems to foster of love of fine cuisine and of our little kitchen community.

When I got married and moved away, I took with me a little folder of recipes to which I have added a collection of recipes from all sides of the family, along with recipes of my own and ones I have found over the past few years.  Perhaps someday I will get creative and create an actual little book of them to give to Gabriel when he moves out of the house in a... very.... long... time....  But for now, I like the open-endedness of it, the fact that I can add new recipes to it anytime.  It leaves the possibilities of new recipes to be found and many more hours spent in the kitchen with my boys.

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Fizey: The Music Man

Just finished spending one week with ChouChou and Fizey.  Unfortunately, Fizey was quite sick most of his visit, but he did manage to pull out one of his many musical contraptions, of which there are many: piano, wooden spoons, harmonica, a couple guitars, a miniature guitar, an accordion, and now, a harp and almost a set of bagpipes Jordan considered picking up from Scotland (ChouChou, you can thank me later).

On a most recent trip to Vancouver, Fizey picked up a traveling mini guitar with which he began singing to Gabriel when he was but a month old.  In wide-eyed wonderment, Gabriel would stare up at Fizey playing the guitar, enraptured.  It is still very much the look he gives 10 months later, now in Virginia, when during bath time, Fizey won Gabriel over by playing a host of Christmas carols while Gabriel soaked in the tub, eyes skyward to the backlit Fizey and mini guitar.  The look on his face--pure unabashed amazement.

I am sure all babies come equipped with a wonderment for music. And Gabriel certainly comes with a long heritage of musical traditions from all sides.  So perhaps we'll have little music man on our hands.

Tips: Cheerios are a baby's best friend. Let's count the ways....

Cheerios.

To Annie: From her story on how to get baby pictures taken without tears. 

To: Margaret and to Darian, both of which will be flying their 11 month and 12 month babies all the way to Seattle.  Good luck my mama friends. 

So we took a three hour plane trip from Baltimore to Dallas with our 10 month old son.  Not sure how sitting still for a 10 month old baby was going to go.  Especially for a child who naps solid 1.5-2 hour naps and then flies around the house like a spinning top while awake.  How would he possibly be able to stay within the confines of two laps (approximately 4 ft by 2 feet) for three hours.  But he did.  Miraculously.  And even had a little nap thanks to his blanket and learning to sleep forward-facing. One of our trade secrets for this trip.  Cheerios.

Edible: Baby can eat them.   Always good to have a "toy" that you can eat.  And really, I think they are pretty healthy.  Better than other options we've been given at recent restaurants.  Cheez Whiz or Fruit roll-ups.  Seriously.

Easy: You don't have to refrigerate Cheerios.  In fact, if they are stale, baby doesn't even seem to mind.  Although, I'm not really touting that you should feed your baby stale food.  That's not nice.  But you get my drift.  They last FOREVER.

Time-manager: You are on a plane.  You have three hours to kill.  Most of this three hours (at least with Gabriel) can be spent trying to eat a container of Cheerios.  It takes FOREVER and it's wonderful.

Musical: Once they are in a container, they are an instant instrument.  You can sing, he can shake OR he can shake and you can sing.  Or he can sing AND shake.

Educational: You can use them to count.  I guess.  If you'd like.

Interactive:  I don't know about you, but Gabriel loves to play around with Cheerios.  In fact, if you put any more than three, count 'em 3, cheerios in his tray, he likes to play with them like they are a video game console more than eat them.  They go flying every where and it's fun.  Especially if you aren't the one who has to vacuum, say if you are on a plane.  Sorry flight attendants.  But it was either that or mushy baby food!

Clean-messy: which brings me to this point.  They are a bit messy, but not really.  You can pick them up, sweep them, vacuum them.  Whatever is easiest.  What you don't have to do is mop them, scrub them, etc or find them mashed into your hair, his hair or either of your articles of clothing with say avocado or mashed up bits of broccoli. 

Aside from that.  Other things that worked:  The table tray which he put up and down no less than 100 times.  Watching the trucks at take-off (Thank you Barney's book about trucks).  Milk. Milk. Milk.  (Stored in individually portioned ziplock bags).  And lots of little things stuffed in the front seat pockets that we would put in and he would take out over and over and over.  And flirting with all of the other passengers beside, in front and behind us. 

What I'd like to know is... what are the tricks for sharing a hotel room with a toddler.  Any tips mama friends?