What's cooking

I spent much of the weekend cooking, something I haven't done since Kaelen was born.  Now that we're on a very tight budget (and because Gene doesn't give a rat's patootie about variety if left to do it on his own), I wanted to have as many things pre-made as I could.  It prevents temptation on those nights we don't feel like making anything.

Besides, I like cooking.

The weekend's haul turned out to be pretty impressive, if I do say so myself.

• 2 lasagnas in 8x8 pans
• Greek yogurt
• double batch of rhubarb big crumb coffee cake
• 1 loaf of 100% whole wheat sandwich bread (which I neglected to remove from its pan right away and it steamed its bum soft)
• 2 pans of chicken verde enchiladas, made with chicken and my home-canned corn
• double batch of pizza dough, half of which I froze and the other half Gene made into decked-out pizzas
• minestrone soup
• a batch of pureed cherries for the kid

I froze everything except 1 batch of the enchiladas, which we're going to have for dinner tonight, and the coffee cake.  Gene took a good amount of the coffee cake to our neighbors from whose yard I pilfered the rhubarb at 7:00 this morning.  My rhubarb out front bolted and the year-old rhubarb in the back yard has stalks that are not much larger than pencils.

Lunch tomorrow will either be leftover gyros or the end of a not-so-exciting concoction of braised beef, egg noodles, tomatoes, and edamame I made last week.  Hey, I said we've been working on eating what's on hand... sometimes the results are odd.

Some laundry, bathe the kid, glass of wine, and I'm done.

I'm pooped.

More changes coming

Gene left his job yesterday, and it's a good thing.  He's going to start working for a start-up that's building cruiser-style electric motorcycles.  Check them out: they're sexy!

Please buy one of you're so inclined!  They're only $45k for the base model, which includes a weekend trip to Las Vegas to customize the bikes with the company's founders, Chris and Gene.  There are some exciting things in the works that I'll share as they get firmed up.

Until business picks up and there's an actual payroll, we're watching our pennies more than ever.  We used to watch our budget fairly closely but now it's a matter of managing finances to the penny instead of just making sure that we have the cash for our purchases.

I've cancelled my newspaper delivery.  We've cut out the milk delivery.  We're selling one of our cars.  We've been very mindful of eating out, buying espresso drinks, paying down debt responsibly, and spending money frivolously.  We're debating whether we'll keep our Netflix or leave it: that's another $11 per month.  For now we're keeping it.

Seeing this in black and white, I realize that this sounds more dire than it is in reality.  I've been neglectful in reading the paper since going back to work. 

While I'll miss the convenience of the weekly deliveries, the minimum order amount has gradually crept to $10.  We've been buying things we really didn't need just to have someone leave a gallon of milk on our front porch every Friday.  I've got a loaf of whole wheat sandwich bread started on the counter right now.  With planning, and a husband who's willing to finish up the bread-baking process, we can have homemade bread delivered straight from the oven instead of delivered with our milk for $4.

Photo: crumblycookie.net

As for the car, I live just 3.5 miles from work, where I can get a subsidized bus pass for just $20/month.  I'll be more strict with myself about riding my bike to work.  The bus allows me to catch a ride up the massive hill between my work and home, while still giving me the opportunity for exercise, fresh air, and errands if I hop off at the top of the hill.  With Gene working from home now, we don't really need a second car and its related expenses.

We've been diligently eating our way through the pantry and freezer instead of buying things we don't truly need.  We're very close to finishing off the freezer contents, which we've never before had the discipline to do.  Though it's just a small freezer, things get lost in its artic recesses and we wind up chucking out unrecognizable chunks of ice two years later.

Kaelen's eating solid foods now.  It's a great for working our way through the canned goods I've squirrelled away and allows me to make room for putting things up later this summer.  It's just a matter of draining off the liquid, whirring the contents in the food processor, and spooning the resulting puree into the baby bird's awaiting mouth.

With Gene home more often, perhaps I can get some gardening done and maybe, just maybe, plant some things like lettuce and my languishing tomato plants.

Scary changes, good changes, but necessary changes.

Catching my breath

Spring of 2012 is hereby deemed the "Season of Suckage".  Thank goodness the summer solstice is nearly here, because I'm ready for the wretched awfulness of this past season to come to an end.  Spring, normally a time of new life emerging form the wintery darkness, has proven a time of trial and death for my loved ones and me.

The Grim Reaper has visited my family monthly since March, taking with him two of my grandparents, both of my cats, and one of my favorite hens.  My gramp died a week ago Tuesday.  In his final days he had a constant stream of people visiting him and sharing with him how much they loved him.  Would that we should all be so fortunate in the end, to have those we love the most nearby. 

I got home from work that Thursday to find Rudy hiding in my closet, succombing to intense pain in his back legs.  Gene and I had had many conversations leading up to this point: what we would when the aging cats' health became unmanageable?  Because we'd talked about it, our next step was clear, although still difficult.  I truly believe it's an important choice to make before you're in the moment.  We decided long ago that when they got to the point that they needed expensive treatments to prolong their lives past what seemed fair to all of us, we would bid them farewell in a kind and gentle manner. 

It was heartwrenching to say goodbye to my sweet boy kitty last Friday morning.  He'd been my steadfast friend for 14 years, adjusted surprisingly well to the arrival of the husband, dog, and baby, and loved nothing more than to sit on my lap.  I miss you, little buddy.

(Aside: I need to bitch for a second that the Animal Emergency Clinic charges $50 to administer the euthanasia, PLUS $90 if you want to be in the room with your pet when they do it, PLUS $30 for a cremation.  I would have laughed at them if I hadn't been sobbing.  The Tacoma Cat Hospital, however, had very gracious staff who got me in quickly, listened to my concerns about Rudy, agreed with me, did the deed quickly with me right there the whole time, and took care of his remains.  Their total price was $56, which included as much Kleenex as I needed to make it through the ordeal, kind words from the veterinarian, and even a condolence card in the mail the very next day.)

I'm really hoping that last week was the Grim Reaper's grande finale.  If he's got more in store for me, I'm not sure I can take it.  So far this has been a good week.
Things are starting to look up again.  Yes, my yard is still an utter mess.  I've weeded only a few times, not that you can tell!  The tomato plants I bought in May are still in their pots, as is the hydrangea I purchased to replace the ugly rhodie in the front yard.  It was damaged in last winter's ice storm and I never liked it anyway.

The apple and pear trees I planted last year survived the harsh winter.  We got a few apples last year and I'm hoping that our neighbors' asian pear tree is close enough for cross-pollination.  My favorite clematis died (dang those chickens) but my new honeysuckle has been attracting the hummingbirds.  My hope for the honeysuckle is that it'll grow along the fence and create a wall of green and orange.

I surprised Gene in May with a new patio in the backyard and we're spending more time outside as the weather warms.  I sit in the stillness of our miniscule oasis, breathe deeply of the scented flowers all around, and take a few moments to enjoy the simplicity of being. 

Kaelen is a robust 6-month-old who's growing at the rate of over an inch a month, sleeping reliably through the night, making the miserable times bearable, and reaching for Rosemary every chance he gets.  We adore him with every fiber of our being.

Life, as difficult as it has been of late, moves ever onward.

Life and death with bebe

Life has marched ever forward since my last post. 

My yard is such a mess that I want to put an apologetic sign out front that says "Sorry!  We've got an infant."  If I could get my act together, I could probably sell them on etsy and make some side money.

I have returned to working full-time, cramming my workweek into 4 10s.  Gene stays home with Kaelen Mon-Thurs.  He leaves for work on Friday morning and stays until Saturday evening.  Sunday is our sole day as a family and we do the best we can to catch up with each other, more often than not leaving yard work for another day.

In May I bought some tomato plants, tarragon, and some squash to put into the front veggie beds.  They're still in the pots in the back yard.

Last week a teenaged boy stopped by with an offer to mow the lawn for a mere $8.  We asked him to return the next day because we had no cash.  It poured the next day and our lush, green lawn is embarrassingly tall.  (note to your entrepreneurs: have enough cash to break bills)

Oh well.  Our time together is more precious than mowed grass and organic squash growing on the parking strip.  As the weather worms up - I say that optimistically because we've been hovering 10 degrees below normal - we'll take the baby outside and turn the outdoors honey-do lists into honey-done lists.

Last week Kaelen cut a tooth and rolled over on the same day.  Tooth #2 is threatening to erupt any day now.  He's a content baby who sleeps at night like a champ.  We're so blessed with such an easy-tempered little guy.

We've started him on solids - homemade, of course - and he has yet to refuse anything offered him.  He's sampled many typical baby foods, such as pureed fruits and veggies, and some atypical things like pad thai.  I've read a couple of books about introducing children to healthy foods and hope to have him on the right track.  Just this afternoon I whirred some peas in the food processor and gave him a taste from my fingertip.  He was so eagerly appreciative that I pulled out one of his brand new baby spoons and fed him what remained in the bowl.

When it comes to Kaelen, I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.  He's slept through the night since he was 6 weeks old.  He's healthy, happy, and spit-shined by the dog on a daily basis.

In other areas of our lives, however, the other shoe has most definitely dropped.  I made the difficult decision in May to have my 15-year-old cat, Mira, put down.  My favorite hen, Gwen, died unexpectedly during my visit to New England.  Sad events, but they come with the territory of animal husbandry.

Every damn shoe in the closet fell about a week ago when my gramp in New England got a devastating diagnosis: metastatic bone cancer in his pelvis and thigh bone.  He has very quickly progressed through the final stages of his life.  My brother is set to fly out this Tuesday but we're not sure he's going to arrive in time.  Not even skype has been an option, Gramp is so sick.

And so here I sit, for the second time in three months, again grieving a beloved grandparent before the fact.  My phone, rarely off of the vibrate setting, has its volume turned up as we await the inevitable news of his passing.  He's been in so much pain that morphine hasn't even helped.  We all hope, for his sake, that his passing happens quickly. 

Like when my grandma died in March, I again find myself thankful for the time I had with my gramp in the past year.  Gene and I went to New England a year ago so that he could meet my family there.  On a whim I whisked Kaelen away for 10 days this last spring.  I think we all knew, but didn't acknowledge openly, that it would be the one and only time Kaelen would meet his great-grampy and that Kaelen would be the only great-grandchild Gramp would ever see.

I take solace in and enjoyment from the things I can control  Time with Rosemary.  Knitting a challenging and interesting shawl for myself.  Visiting the farmers market with Gene and Kaelen.  Figuring out what makes Kaelen giggle uncontrollably.  Cooking for my family.  Heading to Seattle for once-in-a-lifetime exhibits.

And life goes on.  In time I'll teach Kaelen some of the silly things my grampy said.  Better yet, I'll make sure my dad passe along those parts of his father.  Grampy was always a man of few words but when he did speak, you had better pay attention because it was usually going to be clever.

He'd laugh if he knew that I'll think of him any time I see bird poop on my car.  "Look," he'd exclaim, a bird wants to buy your car!"  When given a quizzical look he'd gleefully deliver the punchline: "See?  He left you a little deposit".  That joke cracked him up every time.

Fly free, Grampy.  And on your way, leave as many deposits on cars as you want.  I'll tell Kaelen what it's for.

Flying with the boy

Earlier this month I took Kaelen, who had just hit 3 months old, from Seattle to Boston by myself.  With a plane change each direction ranging from 45-60 mins.  And with cloth diapers.  It was a spur-of-the-moment decision based on the fact that my grandparents are in their 80s, Kaelen is their first great-grandson, flights were quite cheap, and I was still on maternity leave.  Gene's and my trip last summer brought my New England family and me much, much closer together and it was an honor to share our little boy with them. 

Kaelen's first airplane

The stars were aligned, and so I blindly jumped at the chance to spend 12 hours alone each way for door-to-door travel with a little baby. 

(screeching tire sounds)  Say what now?  Am I a crazy glutton for punishment?  Travel with an infant, cross-country, alone, with a flight change, and using cloth diapers. 


Full disclosure: we did have some problems but they were relatively minor.  Kaelen fussed a little as we descended into Boston.  I could see his eyes open wide and feel his little body go rigid as we landed, and I knew it was because his ears were popping.  Mine were, too. 

After we finally got to my aunt and uncle's house, Kaelen freaked the eff out.  And I do mean wake-the-entire-household-up screaming fit that lasted 30 minutes.  I felt awful because it was 1:30 a.m. and my cousin is a baker who has to leave the house by 3 a.m. to get to her job at an amazing bakery in Cambridge.  Not to mention my aunt and uncle who also get up at the buttcrack of dawn to start their jobs.  Hush, hush, baby!

After he relaxed a little I tried to put him down only to get his epic pouty mouth and signature lip quiver that happens microseconds prior to an ear-splitting eruption.  I was certain I was going to be forced to sleep in my travel clothes with him in my arms because I couldn't open a suitcase one-handed while holding a scared baby in the other.  He eventually allowed me to put him down long enough to change.  I let him sleep with me that night as reassurance that he was OK as long as I was there.

The start of our 6-hour snuggle fest

All in all, I had planned really carefully and the flights each way did go smoothly.  Hey, I'm a Virgo.  We're anal-retentive avid planners.

Here are my tips for taking an infant on a flight:

• Preload bottles with formula but not water (unless BFing, which is awesome but since my boobs went on strike so it's formula for us).  Take way more than you think you'll need because if you're delayed you won't be able to buy more easily.
• Slip-on shoes and pull-on pants for you are a must.
• Use a front-carrier for baby, & a backpack (forget a diaper bag) for baby's stuff.  You'll feel like a pack mule but your hands will be free.
• Take easy-to-eat, non-messy food for yourself on the plane: crackers, cold cuts, cheese, pre-cut apples, nuts, grapes, yogurt-covered pretzels, etc.
• Be sure to have something for baby to suck on during take-off & landing: bottle, finger, pacifier, toy, anything.  Keep encouraging them to suck, even if they're sleepy.  Don't chew gum & only clear your own ears when you see baby sucking so that you can gauge what's going on with theirs.
• As you board, ask flight attendants which lavatory has a changing table and let them know if you need water for bottles.  Based on my experience, they won't offer any info or aid unless you ask.  In fact, the post-flight survey Delta sent me got a diatribe about the lack of any courtesy shown to a mom who was clearly travelling alone with an infant.
• If you can, keep baby in the carrier for the entire flight, including take-off & landing.  My air crews never challenged me on this but it *is* against airline policy.  You'll be sweaty by the time you reach your destination but you won't have to jostle your little one around.
• I bought a kindle on craigslist for the trip.  It was lightweight and gave me something to read that I could quickly put down & pick up one-handed when my baby didn't need my attention.
• Don't be afraid to seek out the family bathrooms in the airports.  They're roomy & quite clean.

Kaelen didn't need a toy in-flight b/c he was too little for them.  He slept most of the way and only cried a little when I had to wake him to change his diaper.

Did I mention I used cloth diapers the entire trip, including the flights?  I felt like such a mommy rock star for having managed it successfully.

Waiting to board at Logan Int'l

The flights weren't comfortable but they were manageable.  I had enough space to rock and comfort Kaelen when he needed it, to read when he slept, to relax when I needed it, and to eat a healthy snack when I got hungry.

Having grown up on separate coasts, I'd never seen my family - grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins - with babies.  On the way to the airport I looked into the backseat and saw something I'd never seen before.  It's a sight that is forever carved into my memory.

It was my gramp, aged 89, holding hands with my son, aged 3 months.

Whooping cough, aka pertussis

Washington State is the first in the nation on a rather dubious list: 5% of children in the public education system have not been vaccinated against deadly and preventable illnesses.  That's the highest in the nation.

Well guess what: Washington is experiencing an epidemic of whooping cough.  It's made national news.

Vaccines are not a government conspiracy.  They were developed to save lives.  They don't cause autism.   Do you know who has the highest vaccination compliance rates in the country?  Immigrants. Immigrants from countries where these diseases have not been eradicated and who have seen firsthand the deadly results.

As the mother of an infant who has not yet had his first vaccination against whooping cough, the fact that a preventable disease is running rampant scares the shit out of me.  Whooping cough kills babies.

Whooping cough has hit uncomfortably close to home for me: my 36-year-old, healthy-as-a-horse brother recently recovered from a 2-month bout with whooping cough.

We're not sure when Jason contracted whooping cough, but we know that he got it at work.  His employer doesn't offer health insurance or sick leave (ahhh... the joys of the American health care "system").  Many of his coworkers who do have access to health care were diagnosed and treated with a round of antibiotics.  Jason wasn't so lucky.  He eventually bought some black market antibiotics and treated himself.  The whooping cough cleared up and he was finally able to feel better.

The disease earns its name.  At times Jason coughed so hard and so uncontrollably that he saw stars.  This disease doesn't easily clear up; my brother is one of the healthiest people I know.

While he was sick, our 94-year-old grandmother passed away.  We had lots of notice that she was dying and we all got to say our good-byes... except for my brother.  Because of the compromised health of so many people at the nursing home, he could not visit her.  She held on for 6 days after stopping eating and drinking, perhaps in the hope of seeing him one last time.  But he never came.

I gave birth to a healthy baby boy in December.  Everyone in my family is vaccinated against pertussis... except my brother.  Everyone has been able to spend time and bond with my son... except my brother. 

Jason missed two months of my son's life.  Far worse, he didn't get to have a final goodbye with our grandmother (and let's be honest, he was always her favorite).  All because he wasn't vaccinated.

Right before his symptoms started he visited our grandmother in the hospital and held my son, who was just 6 weeks old at the time. Our story could have had a tragic end instead of just a sad one.

Many adults allow their vaccinations to lapse because they aren't aware that some vaccinations, such as whooping cough (pertussis), diphtheria, and tetanus wear off with time.  You need to re-up these vaccinations every 8-10 years and they're bundled in a single shot.  I got a tetanus shot about 3 years ago when I sliced my finger open on a food processor blade.  Frankly, the shot hurt worse than the cut (until it got infected), but it was worthwhile.

There are some diseases for which you probably can rely on herd immunity in the USA, such as polio.  I don't care what your beliefs about vaccinations are: when it comes to the public health good, you cannot rely on herd immunity with whooping cough.  It's out there and it kills.

There is no reason you should not get vaccinated.  Just do it.

--------------
UPDATED: A friend posted this on her fb page.  It's a must-read for new parents and parents-to-be, with suggestions on how to protect your newborn from pertussis.

How long do chickens live

Gwen, our sex-link hen, died last week.

Gene found her in the coop on the floor one night.  There were no injuries or outward signs of trauma.  I was out of town when it happened but he told he she'd been running around the yard that day with the other girls and exhibited no signs of illness, such as a droopy head and tail.

Unlike our previous hens' deaths, one due to parasites and another due to a mysterious wound, we don't know why Gwen died. 

Gwen broke a toe a couple of years ago and subsequently developed an infection.  We caught and treated the infection successfully, but she never laid eggs reliably again.

Gwen was one of my favorites.  She was friendly, curious, and always at my feet.  Whenever I was gardening she was right there with me, looking for earthworms, cutworms, millipedes, and anything else I might unearth.  She'd come running any time she saw the shovel and was a frequent visitor to the house.  She was no dummy and knew that people = food.

One thing people often ask me is how long chickens live.  We got our first batch of girls in May 2008, starting with Gwen, Dumpling (Barred Plymouth Rock), and Nugget (Rhode Island Red).  Dumpling died the first year.  Nugget is not only healthy as a horse, she's still laying several large eggs each week. 

I've heard that chickens can live into their teens.  I used to know a woman whose teen-aged hen laid about an egg per month.  I suspect that chickens have about the same life expectancy as guinea pigs: perhaps 5-10 years.  We've had chickens for 4 years now and this is our first death by natural causes (to the best of our knowledge).

When you decide to start an urban flock, one consideration is what to do with unproductive and aging hens.  Gwen didn't lay eggs for the last 2 years of her life.  She was a pet, pure and simple.  We jokingly named our chickens food names - Nugget, Dumpling, Curry, Croquette - because we had considered eating them when they got older.  Of course, the cardinal rule of raising livestock is "don't play with your food", a dictum we've broken over and over again.  Our girls have a place in our yard until the natural end of their lives.

Gwen had a good 4 years with us.  We loved her and she us (in her own chicken way).  I'm glad we kept her, despite her lack of productivity, because she had such a good personality.  She was always gentle, attentive, and interested in our activities.

Rest in peace, girl.