Bringing Up Baby

Lately...

jss — Wed, 30 May 2012 09:58:04 -0500

Playing at the park
Riding in the golf cart
Insisting on wearing two different hats
Playing golf
Falling asleep on mama mid-lunch
Super enthusiastic

In Praise of Long Weekends

jss — Tue, 29 May 2012 10:30:00 -0500

All hail the long holiday weekend! Mac and I actually got a bonus day off last Friday so I ended up having a 4-day weekend. And boy, was it needed.

This past weekend we…

Went for a walk to Caribou and around the urban nature reserve Friday morning. Mac insisted on walking all the way to Caribou and all the way home from the nature reserve, which means that he walked about 1.5 miles that morning. Are you kidding me? The kid is crazy. Needless to say, he took an awesome nap that day.
Helped some friends move out of their shady-ass neighborhood into a beautiful new home in a fantastic neighborhood. Granted, I was simply on Mac-Distraction-Duty and did nothing to contribute to the actual moving of things, but it was still fun to watch good friends settle into their new home.
Headed out to my parents’ house where we got to enjoy the gorgeous weather on Sunday out on the river, have a couple nights out while the grandparents took over Mac Duty, sit around the bonfire engaging in deep discussions, and relax Relax RELAX.

kayaking w/grandma

Spent Monday recovering from sunburns (only Mac retained his alabaster skin), acting like bumps on a log, and treating ourselves to some Five Guys. Five Guys makes me hate myself and love my life simultaneously. And it’s worth every fatty calorie.

napping w/mama

So…uh…when’s the next long weekend? Because I could get used to this!

Dream Big, Kid

jss — Thu, 24 May 2012 10:10:00 -0500

While I have a rather active imagination, I tend to be irritatingly practical. I fear change, I fear risk, I fear failure. This fear has more or less defined my life.

Example: Instead of going to a conservatory theatre program for college, I instead went to U of MN in order to save money and get a “real” degree. I wanted the comfort of a paycheck and to be able to live without the fear of constant competition and rejection. I don’t necessarily regret the choice I made, because I honestly don’t think I could have hacked it as an actress, but I do wish I hadn’t let practicality get in the way of my dreams so quickly. Plus, that “real” degree didn’t exactly buy me the job security I thought it would.

I’ve almost always made the safe choice, the smart choice, the practical choice. And I hope Mac doesn’t do the same.

I hope he dreams. I hope he dares to believe he can do or be anything he wants. I hope he understands that heartache is a part of life and he doesn’t shy away from it, but instead embraces all its challenges and grows from it. I hope he is stronger than me and has confidence in the beauty of his dreams. I hope he doesn’t let me or friends or society dictate what is acceptable for him to do with his life and what defines success. I hope he is great in his own way — not because that’s what he’s supposed to do, but because that is where following his dreams took him. I hope he’s brave enough to become a doctor or a dancer or an accountant or an astronaut or a singer or a salesman — I don’t care what. I simply hopes he pursues it passionately.

I hope Mac works his little tail off to become exactly who he wants to be in life, and to never let fear of the unknown stifle his pursuit of his dreams.

Mornings spent snuggling are my favorite.

jss — Mon, 21 May 2012 08:46:20 -0500

Mornings spent snuggling are my favorite.

"Don’t ever forget that you’re a citizen of this world, and there are things you can do to lift the..."

jss — Thu, 17 May 2012 11:54:50 -0500

“Don’t ever forget that you’re a citizen of this world, and there are things you can do to lift the human spirit, things that are easy, things that are free, things that you can do every day. Civility, respect, kindness, character. How you live matters…Rehearsal’s over. You’re going out there now, you’re going to do this thing. How you live matters. You’re going to fall down, but the world doesn’t care how many times you fall down, as long as it’s one fewer than the number of times you get back up.”

- aaron sorkin in his amazing commencement address to syracuse (via thekimenator)

Relevant.

Can the Rest of You Please Stop Being so Awesome?

jss — Thu, 17 May 2012 09:16:41 -0500

Yesterday, as I was getting a bikini wax (yes, my lady parts are now well-groomed — you’re welcome for that Super Important Piece of Information), I was commiserating with my aesthetician about post-baby bodies. Both of us have been suffering from a real lack of enthusiasm over the current state of our figures, and we’ve decided the best solution is for everyone else to quit looking so good. I mean, if you are just a naturally thin person who shed the weight without thinking while still being able to shove your face full of Five Guys and Ben & Jerry’s, then obviously I hate you and am so jealous I can hardly see straight, but you can just keep being you. But if you’re working your little tail off Jessica Alba-style, then you need to stop. Because you’re making me look bad.

The thing is, it didn’t actually take me all that long to lose the baby weight. At 6-weeks postpartum, I was within 5 lbs of my pre-baby weight. At my one-year check-up, I was 7 lbs under my pre-baby weight. Just a month ago, according to my parents’ scale, I was 10 lbs under my pre-baby weight. And yet? And yet I feel gross 98% of the time. The baby belly that just won’t disappear, the arms that I swear have grown twice their normal size, hips that have expanded in a way I didn’t believe possible, and thighs that appeared straight out of nowhere. And don’t even get me started on the stretch marks that have created a demented treasure map all over my lower torso and upper thighs.

Several months ago I decided to take my low self-esteem in my own hands and start a workout regimen. And I’ve been pretty good about sticking to it. 4-5 days/week, I’m doing some sort of cardio and/or strength training. Plus, I’ve recently decided to stop eating buttered popcorn by the pound and I’ve given up bricks of solid chocolate. But I’m pretty sure I’ve GAINED weight. I’m pretty sure my pants are tighter and my shirts hug in very unflattering ways.

It’s awful and disheartening and depressing and straight-up unfair.

So if the rest of you could just let yourselves go to hell the way I clearly have, that’d be super awesome.

kthxbai.

The Friendliest Kid on the Block

jss — Wed, 16 May 2012 09:59:02 -0500

Mac is a hugger. For as large a personal bubble as I have, this kid doesn’t seem to have one at all. While he’ll hug just about any adult if asked, it’s other kids he really loves hugging.

He hugs all his little friends all the time all day, without any real reason. He gives gentle hugs to little babies where he simply rests his head on theirs, and he gives big bear hugs to bigger kids.

As it turns out, all of the kids Mac spends time with are like this. They all give and receive hugs freely. They’re just happy, friendly kids.

Unfortunately, not every kid loves the same kind of invasion of personal space, and I’m always left feeling a bit awkward when we’re out amongst the general public. While Mac and his friends love to stroll up to other kids, give a hug, and share their sand pail, most other kids we’ve encountered don’t feel the same way. They don’t like a stranger — even a small one — trying to tackle them with a hug. Which is totally understandable. But it leaves me feeling bad for a kid like Mac (and leaves me feeling like other parents are judging me —I’M SORRY MY KID IS SO FRIENDLY, OK?!?!).

I love that mAC loves so freely and that he just wants to embrace (quite literally) everyone. And it breaks my heart just a little bit knowing that Mac will have to deal with at least a modicum of rejection from his peers for the rest of his life, and that these small rebuffs at the park are just a little taste of that.

Mac never leaves these exchanges with hurt feelings, though. So clearly I’m blowing this up to be a much bigger deal than it is. And I’m happy that, for now anyway, Mac’s default feeling towards everyone else is love, no matter their reception of his overzealous advances.

A Long Way of Telling a Short Story

jss — Tue, 15 May 2012 09:26:00 -0500

When I was growing up, my parents owned a marina. Since my dad was a teacher, it was a great way for my parents to own their own business and earn extra money during the summer. Plus, it was a pretty awesome place to grow up (we lived in the house just a few feet away up the hill from the marina).

(this is a picture of the marina today. No, you’re not missing something. It was bought by the nursing home next door and turned into a parking lot. They literally paved paradise and put up a parking lot. Okay…maybe not literally paradise. That red arrow is where I’m pretty sure the infamous boat launch was.)

Every spring and fall, my parents would spend an entire day launching the boats and docks or taking out the boats and docks. I usually made myself scarce because as a princess-y 8 year old, manual labor didn’t interest me, but my brothers were always doing their best to get in the way of the days proceedings.

One year (I believe it was the fall) my youngest brother was sitting in the backseat of our truck in his carseat as my parents were pulling boats up on the trailer. The trailer, naturally, was attached to the truck. My brother managed to unbuckle himself from his carseat, climb into the front seat, and put the truck in gear. The truck then quickly drove into the lake while my parents scrambled to rescue their toddler (I believe he was 3 at the time) from drowning.

That was the second time one of my brothers launched a truck into the lake.

Yesterday, I took Mac with me to run some errands. I was strapping him into his carseat and getting everything situated, and I suddenly realized that after I had him all buckled in, he managed to undo his top buckle. Thinking maybe I just forgot to snap it tight, I clicked it together again. And that’s when I saw him manipulate the buckle and unclick it.

My kid is on his way to figuring his way out of his carseat. Which means that I officially need to keep him away from parked cars next to large bodies of water. My family very obviously doesn’t have a good track record.

Oh, also?

jss — Mon, 14 May 2012 09:41:17 -0500

I feel it’s relevant to mention that, while out on the boat, I got stung in the ass by a bee. It hurt like hell. And I STILL had a great Mother’s Day. That’s how good my day was — even a bee sting to the buttocks couldn’t ruin my day.

FYI

jss — Mon, 14 May 2012 08:59:04 -0500

After I wrote that mother’s day post, Mac made me chase him around the house as he protested against having his diaper changed, broke the mirror off the wall and was a complete brat during breakfast.

So I guess some days are luckier than others ;-)

Mother's Day

jss — Mon, 14 May 2012 08:24:49 -0500

As I slipped into bed last night, my skin still smelling of sunscreen and fresh country air, I couldn’t help but smile as I drifted off to sleep.

It would be an understatement to say I was in a funk last week. I don’t know what my problem was, but I could feel myself slipping further and further under a black cloud of despair and it just seemed to get worse as the week progressed. By Saturday morning, I could barely muster a smile for my sweet little family. But then we visited our friends in the hospital and as I held their tiny new baby boy (how easily I forgot how little those newborns are), my not-such-a-baby-anymore baby laid down next to me on the hospital couch and promptly fell asleep. It was in that moment that the black cloud over my head quickly began to dissipate. I saw my blessings of good friends, sweet babies, and a supportive husband laid out before me, and I realized I don’t deserve to feel anything other than grateful. It was time to snap myself out of it.

On Sunday morning, I still felt a little gloomy, but smiles abounded after receiving a thoughtful gift from my husband and the sweetest unprompted hug from Mac. I was then treated to a delicious breakfast at a nearby bakery before heading out to spend the day with my parents (and celebrate my own incredible, adorable, phenomenal mother). Mac and I tooled around on the golf cart while the rest of my family golfed 9 holes, and then after lunch and naptime for everybody, we spent the rest of the afternoon boating on the St. Croix River.

We drove home, tucked in our rambunctious boy, I treated myself to Dairy Queen, and spent the remainder of my evening in awe of how lucky I am.

I am lucky. I am treasured. I am loved. And I hardly deserve any of it. But I love this family fiercely and I’m glad we took Mother’s Day to remember how much we all mean to one another.

"Racism isn’t born, folks. It’s taught. I have a 2-year-old son. Know what he hates? Naps. End of..."

jss — Wed, 09 May 2012 13:04:39 -0500

“Racism isn’t born, folks. It’s taught. I have a 2-year-old son. Know what he hates? Naps. End of list.”

- Denis Leary, 1992

15 Ways To Stay Married For 15 Years

jss — Wed, 09 May 2012 09:49:45 -0500

15 Ways To Stay Married For 15 Years:

heylaney:

All the crap you read in magazines about honesty, sense of humor, communication, sensitivity, date nights, couples weekends, blah blah blah can be trumped by one word: loyalty. You and your spouse are a team of two. It is you against the world. No one else is allowed on the team, and no one else will ever understand the team’s rules. This is okay. The team is not adversarial, the team does not tear its members down, the team does not sabotage the team’s success. Teammates work constantly to help and better their teammates. Loyalty means you put the other person in your marriage first all the time, and you let them put you first. Loyalty means subverting your whims or desires of the moment to better meet your spouse’s whims or desires, with the full understanding and expectation that they will be doing the same. This is the heart of everything, and it is a tricky balance. Sometimes it sways one way and sometimes the other. Sometimes he gets to be crazy, sometimes it’s your turn. Sometimes she’s in the spotlight, sometimes you. Ups and downs ultimately don’t matter, because the team endures.

[via almosthalfway:sequinsandsideeye:profashional]

A Good Book is Hard to Find

jss — Tue, 08 May 2012 14:27:00 -0500

I have had it up to HERE with all the talk about Fifty Shades of Grey. A few weeks ago, I gave into the pressure and decided to download a preview on my kindle to see what all the fuss was about. Honestly? It was the worst thing I’ve ever read. And I read all the Twilight books, so I know what I’m talking about. So I’ve decided to talk about some books I’ve read recently in order to give everyone an alternative to that Fifty Shades… drivel. I know it’s hard to find a book to lose yourself in, so I’m here to help.

The Twin’s Daughter by Lauren Baratz-Logsted ($1.99 Kindle or $14.11 Hardcover on Amazon)

This is actually a YA fiction book, but it rarely felt that way while reading it. While I personally found the ending a little dissatisfying, overall I really enjoyed this book. Lucy, the 13-year-old narrator, tells the story of what happened to her family the day her mother’s twin showed up at their doorstep. Previously unknown to family, Lucy’s aunt has lived in squalor in turn-of-the-century London. When the family brings her into their home and turns her into a society woman, their world is drastically altered. I blew through it in an afternoon while relaxing out at my parents house. It’s quite different from the books I normally read, a little spooky, and definitely kept me guessing. If you want a quick read and a little scare, this is a great option.

The Paris Wife by Paula McClain ($12.99 Kindle or $15.00 Hardcover on Amazon)

I read this a while ago, but I really enjoyed it. If you’re a literary nerd, you’ll almost certainly like it since it touches on so many different authors and artists from the Jazz Age. The story is told from the point of view of Ernest Hemingway’s first wife, Hadley, and her struggles as a wife, an artist, and a friend. I must warn you, it isn’t a happy story, but it is completely engrossing.

She Wore Only White by Dorthe Binkert ($4.99 Kindle or $7.24 Paperback on Amazon)

I borrowed this book from the Amazon lending library on a whim a few weeks ago and I was surprised I enjoyed this book so much. It’s a story told at the turn of the twentieth century from multiple points of view about a mysterious woman dressed in a white evening gown who boards a ship bound for New York. While the story drags at times and there did feel like a few metaphorically heavy-handed moments, for the most part I found this book quite captivating.

The Kitchen House by Kathleen Grissom ($12.99 Kindle or $10.88 Paperback on Amazon)

This was actually the first book I bought for my kindle after Christmas. After downloading a dozen different previews, this one hooked me and I couldn’t imagine not reading the whole book. The book opens with Lavinia, an orphaned Irish immigrant being left to the care of the slaves in the kitchen house of a Southern plantation. Even though Lavinia bonds with the slaves and considers them her family, her white skin sets her apart and she is eventually forced to leave her slave family behind and marry into the white world. It is a tragic book and an uncomfortable read at times, but it is completely engrossing and you’ll find yourself caring about the welfare of nearly all the characters — major and minor.

Blood Harvest by S.J. Bolton ($2.99 Kindle, $11.33 Paperback, or $24.96 Hardcover on Amazon)

Ok, to be fair, I’m not actually finished with this book yet, but I’m about 75% done and it might just be my favorite book yet. It’s eerie and fascinating and has completely sucked me in. I started this Sunday afternoon and can’t put it down. It’s about the Fletcher family who has built a new house on the moors between two churches. Immediately after moving in, it’s as if someone is trying to drive the family out. Scary pranks are pulled on both the Fletchers and the new vicar in town and the oldest of the children, Tom, claims there is a young girl always watching them. As the adults try to figure out what’s happening and Tom tries to protect his family from harm, the secrets of this bizarre town begin to reveal themselves. I can’t wait to finish this book and see how it ends!!

So there’s a short list of what I’ve been enjoying recently. I beg of you — put down your copies of that shitty Fifty Shades… and read one of these page-turners instead.

Any good book recommendations you might have for me?

Young House Love

jss — Thu, 03 May 2012 14:39:09 -0500

John and Sherry have been Shutting. It. Down. lately. I got a little bored during most of their kitchen upgrade but lately they’ve had several posts where I hear myself whisper-shouting “Yes! Brilliant!” out loud while reading. The latest series they have going on about paring down and simplifying their life has been particularly inspirational to me.

First, there was this post about limiting the amount of toys their daughter has access to. I’ve always moved toys in and out of rotation for Mac, but since several kids play with these toys almost every day, I tend to leave out more toys than if I would if it was just Mac. And I leave out more toys than I’m really happy with. Although I love the feeling of our house bursting at the seams with Mac-ness (I’m a weirdo who likes the presence of toy baskets and high chairs and kid art work and all those other little reminders that a child is in residence), I don’t love feeling like our living room is closing in on us. So I’m taking some time this weekend to tuck away a lot of the toys that don’t get much love and rotate in a few that haven’t seen the light of day in a while.

I’m hoping that by limiting the amount of toys everyone has access to, that not only will my living room feel more like a living space again and less like a playroom, but that the kids will also spend more time playing with just one toy. As it is, several of them have a tendency to wander around dumping out one toy after another without doing any real playing.

The other post that really struck a nerve with me was this one about how John and Sherry have limited the amount of personal care and household cleaning items they keep around. I would show you a picture of my linen closet and what a ridiculous amount of bath and hair and makeup products I have laying around, but it’s just too embarrassing. And it’s so stupid! I only wear makeup 1 or 2 days per week. I can’t even remember the last time I used any sort of product in my hair. I haven’t used any kind of frou frou body wash since I was in high school. And there are shampoos in my shower that haven’t been used in about two years.

The Husband and I could easily use all the same products. When something runs out, we’re likely stealing some of the other person’s product anyway. To be able to limit the amount of crap littering our shower walls and linen closet shelves would be such a relief. So within the next couple months, I’d like to start making that transition.

It’s also time for me to start sorting through my makeup. Every Christmas, my aunt gives the Clinique samples she received throughout the year as gifts. I love it, but it means I tend to hoard unnecessary makeup. Do I really need four different tubes of lipstick in Tender Heart? How many containers of the same purple eyeshadow do I need to be holding on to? And dear god — why do I still have that teal eyeliner from high school?

I want to simplify my life a la Young House Love. I want to limit the amount of house cleaners I have. I’m such a sucker for a good gimmick and I need to get back to the basics. I need products that will do double-duty. I need to invest in more all-natural cleaners. As for personal care products, I’ve been using all-natural soap and shampoo products for Mac, but it’s time for The Husband and I to start paying attention to what we’re putting on our own skin.

I want to pare down and streamline my life. And Young House Love has given me the kick in the pants that I needed.

"One Born Every Minute" makes me so happy I made the choice I did about limiting who was allowed in the delivery room.

jss — Thu, 03 May 2012 14:11:39 -0500

My mom and The Husband only. No one was allowed to text updates or chat on the phone. Relevant parties were notified when I went into labor, and everyone and their mother was notified once I gave birth.

Watching this show and seeing some of the awkward situations and toxic family dynamics that occur in some delivery rooms just makes me so, so happy that I was a hardass about who was allowed in.

Plus, I mean — really? Do I need anyone except those closest to me to witness all the indignities that occur while birthing a human? I think not.

A couple months ago I read an article in Real Simple about a...

jss — Tue, 01 May 2012 09:30:00 -0500

A couple months ago I read an article in Real Simple about a woman and her family in upstate New York. The article isn’t that remarkable — it’s ultimately about mindful home decorating — but something about it stuck with me. It was more than just pictures of a pretty home or an inspirational article about simple living and giving back.

And last night, I realized, truly, that this woman’s life is my ultimate goal. To have a happy family in a simple farmhouse-style home just outside of the city. To be more mindful of how I consume and what I truly need to make my house a home. To do more to help the community around me with my time and energy. To give of myself unselfishly.

A year ago, The Husband and I found our dream home. We found the home that would make my fantasy of the pared-down life featured in the magazine a reality. Unfortunately, it is unlikely that we’ll ever get our hands on this dream house (despite it now being in our price range — ARGH!), but now I have a goal in mind. Now I know exactly what I’m looking for. And I know The Husband is looking for the same thing. Now I know that we won’t settle for anything less than this dream we’ve dreamed together for the last year+.

A home like the one created in the photo above is the home of our future. And now we just have to do what we can to make it a reality. I bookmark this article as inspiration for our future goal.

(photo from Real Simple)

A Previous Post

jss — Mon, 30 Apr 2012 09:56:26 -0500

A Previous Post:

On Friday, I wrote a post about what I believe to be a common sentiment, but one that is rarely expressed, regarding the complications (to put it mildly) in a marriage/relationship during those infant baby days.

In case you missed it and have some time (it’s a long post), here it is.

"It Would Be Better If I Was Doing This Alone."

jss — Fri, 27 Apr 2012 09:01:20 -0500

That’s a thought I had far more often than I’d like to admit when Mac was an infant.

The past few days, I’ve talked to friends about how hard marriage was when my son was first born, and how there were times when I absolutely hated The Husband and resented everything he did. It’s an ugly truth and I’m not proud of those feelings, but now that I’ve come out the other side of it and started joking about it with friends, I realized that I’m not the only person who felt this way. I can only speak for myself here, but I thought it was about time I discussed what I suspect is a fairly common sentiment.

When Mac was itty bitty, There were many, many times I felt like I was raising him all by myself. I would seethe with rage at 9:00 at night when I’d have infant Mac sleeping on my lap as I tried to get some freelance writing done while The Husband played video games in the basement. Or I’d barely suppress my hostility as I asked The Husband to occupy Mac for an hour while I tried to get some work done and he’d act like he was doing me some big favor.

I had (have?) a martyr complex almost bigger than my house is able to contain, and there were several factors that contributed to my anger and guilt and resentment. First of all, rather than just being direct with The Husband and asking him when I needed something from him, I would make passive-aggressive comments because a part of me felt like I didn’tdeserveto ask The Husband for help. I had gotten laid off and I had put him in a position he never wanted to be in as the sole income earner for our family (the money I brought in through Unemployment and freelancing was negligible). When he was at work all day earning the money that paid our mortgage and kept us fed, didn’t he deserve his relaxation time? Didn’t he deserve to use his after work hours any way he chose? Who was I to nag him when he was doing so much for our family?

And then I’d get angry because why didn’t he WANT to snuggle with our baby? Why didn’t he WANT to rock him to sleep and have the baby sleep on his chest? Of course hewantedto spend time with Mac, but it was never at the times that *I* wanted him to spend time with Mac. And The Husband wanted to soothe Mac when he was fussy, but would grow frustrated and impatient when he couldn’t calm Mac down in under 30 seconds, and then he’d get angry at me and claim that Mac liked me better and he was probably hungry anyway and I could just nurse him.

Nursing — wonderful as it was — also contributed to the negative dynamic of our relationship. Since nursing Mac was a surefire way to calm Mac down, I was ultimately the only one who soothed him any time he was fussy. Even if it didn’t involve whipping a boob out, it just became automatic that I would comfort Mac when he was upset.

I think what was going on was that The Husband assumed I was the expert and figured I could do it all better anyway so he’d leave it to me. And I assumed The Husband resented me for the position I had put him in financially and didn’t want to ask for anything further from him but I hated him for not inherently knowing that I needed more from him. After all these years, I still continue to forget that he can’t read my mind and sense my needs.

There were so many nights I fell asleep (with a baby tucked in my arm) thinking that it would all be so much easier if The Husband wasn’t even around. If I was a single mom and I just didn’t have to consult him at all, it would be easier. If I was alone, then I’d get the credit I deserved for doing all the work. I’d get the credit for waking up multiple times per night with Mac. I’d get the credit for making all the decisions concerning Mac’s care. I’d get the credit for spending 99% of my time tending to Mac’s needs (minus 1% of time for the occasional bathroom break and the even more occasional shower).

Of course The Husband was a help. And now that I’m out of those crazy newborn days, I can see that. But back then? That is definitely not how I felt.

Marriage was hard for a long time. Probably until Mac was about 8 or 9 months old. Both of us were giving so much of ourselves to our child that we barely had enough time for ourselves, let alone for each other. I can only assume that at times The Husband resented me just as much as I resented him. And I don’t think our situation was unique. I suspect it’s something that so many people think but don’t say because they’re afraid of what it will mean for their marriage.

Even while I was going through it, I almost never blogged or tweeted about my frustration for two reasons: 1. I was ashamed and 2. I was afraid of what it would snowball into. Once I opened that box and acknowledged those feelings out loud, would I be able to close it?

The bottom line is that we’re good right now. We’re back to our happy, healthy marriage. But believe me — there were some ugly days. So if you’re going through a similar situation right now, please know that you’re not alone. I have been there. And I have gotten through it. The Husband is a fantastic father. Did he require a little more time to adjust to his new role than I did? Yup, he did. But that’s the beauty of there being two of us — there’s always someone to pick up the slack. That’s ultimately pretty reassuring.

And now? I can’t imagine doing it alone. See? It gets better.

Oatmeal Fritters

jss — Wed, 25 Apr 2012 15:20:00 -0500

Last week, I posted a picture of Mac’s breakfast on Instagram and twitter. Lately it seems I’ve been in the habit of posting many of his meals, but this one in particular sparked a lot of curiosity:

Pictured above are some oatmeal fritters I made. I usually make these once or twice a week for breakfast and they’re always a huge hit. After several questions, I thought it might be of interest to some of you if I shared the recipe here.

The inspiration for oatmeal fritters came courtesy of a Mark Bittman segment I saw on the Today show last year.

The basic recipe:

Olive oil or vegetable oil for frying

3 cups cooked oatmeal, preferably chilled

All-purpose flour if needed

Put a thin film of oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Form the oatmeal into 1-inch balls and flatten balls into patties (If the patties don’t hold their shape, stir flour into the oatmeal, 1tbsp at a time, and try again). When the oil is hot, add the patties to the pan in a single layer (you may have to work in batches). Fry the patties until crisp and golden, 3-5 minutes per side. Drain the fritters on paper towels and serve warm or at room temp.

There are a few modifications I make to this recipe. First of all, technically the recipe is called “Leftover Oatmeal Fritter”, but I always just toss some uncooked oats in a bowl with milk and let them soak in the fridge for 30-60 mins before I make breakfast. That has worked just fine for me.

Second of all, I’ve started frying the fritters in coconut oil and they’ve turned out just fine. There’s no real reason for this other than I was curious to see if it would change the flavor (it didn’t).

And third (and most important), I’ve found that these fritters are an excellent vehicle for a variety of flavors. My favorite is apple cinnamon, wherein I dice up an apple and mix it into the uncooked oatmeal with some cinnamon. I’ve also done maple syrup and raisins, honey and walnuts, brown sugar and raisin — the options really are endless. I’m thinking that strawberries and cream might be my next experiment and I also want to try dicing up some pears and adding in ginger. I’m even thinking I might try shredding up some carrots and tossing those in with the brown sugar and raisin variety. Fresh fruit, dried fruit, hidden veggies — you can try it all.

These little guys are cheap, easy, healthy, and filling. Mac gobbles them up and it’s nice to give him oatmeal in a form where I don’t have to feed him or he doesn’t make a huge mess trying to feed himself. And I love to eat them too. Being able to pop them in my mouth while I make it through the hectic morning routine is a godsend some days.

A meal for toddlers and mamas alike? That’s my favorite.