friday haiku

the apples most toss
full of bruises, spots and worms
make the sweetest sauce

first day

Yesterday it was back to school and, for Liam, the start of second grade. I could go on and on about how I can't believe my kid is already adding triple digit numbers in his head and deciphering all the big words Andrew and I spell to each other. How he has his own desk and can tie up his gym shoes and pack his own lunch. But then there's this other side of me that can believe it. The side that perceives that actual passing of time. I mean, it's been 2,661 days since he was born. In that length of time he has clearly honed his camera smile.


Liam has also seen the "girl next door" nearly every one of those days. Although they continue to end up in different classes and are cootie-bearers by virtue of their very gender, they remain comfortable and constant friends. I loved seeing them walk together on the first day of school. I am not sure Liam and Ava will ever be more than friends. Their siblings, however, are another story.


Elliott adores Mia, and that is really an understatement. He regularly throws open our windows to giddily shout and screech to her across the street. "Hi, Mia!" "Hi, Mia!" "Hi, Mia!" Walking their siblings to school was simply an excuse to hold hands.


Although this boy looks silly and fun, it's tough to get an answer out of him that isn't "yes" or "no" or "nothing." What did you do today? Nothing. Did you have art? No. What was your favorite part of the day? I don't know.

On the way to school this morning (day 2) I tried a different line of questioning. "What was the first thing you did when you walked into your classroom yesterday?" "Then what?" "Then what?" It worked! I heard about "backpack chores," where they put their lunch boxes, and the back-to-school game they played (in which he apparently named "recess" as his favorite subject).

Now I just have another 150 odd days or so this school year to pull out information. It'll go by so fast and drag on forever. I hope I never forget it.

we love the swiss for more than their chocolate

This past weekend my siblings and our families gathered at my dad and step mom's lake house for one last summer fling. Although we all arrived and left at various times and stayed different durations, all 16 of us were together for more than 24 hours of swimming, card playing, bike riding, ogling babies and eating. In order to ensure a minority did not end up with a majority of the kitchen work, we divided up meal responsibilities. Each family took a meal and, being the eager-to-please overachievers that we are, each brought their A-game.

My brother and sister-in-law and their two-month-old son Tucker claimed Saturday breakfast. Late the night before, while the rest of us were trying to pull out our A-game at the card table, Mark and Jamie were chopping and grating and dirtying every pan imaginable, prepping for breakfast. Sausage was browned. Apples were sauteed. Savory casseroles were layered into buttered dishes. And a large bowl of grayish, pink glop was stuck in the fridge overnight.

In the morning, Mark suggested we get the kids going early and ladle up some of the fruit and oat muesli (i.e., the glop in the bowl). I thought I had had muesli before and that it was dry and a lot like granola on steroids. Apparently, that is not authentic. True Muesli is more like thick, lumpy papier mache.

I wasn't sure how the muesli would go over with my kids, particularly Liam who is pretty faithful to a bowl of raisin bran. I was pretty sure they wouldn't like it, but I scooped the kids each a small bowl any way.

Liam claims that he ate seven bowls of muesli that morning. All of us were huge fans.

I found the recipe on Epicurious as soon as I got home. Amazingly I had all of the ingredients on hand so I whipped up a batch tonight. I substituted about 1/8 cup of agave syrup for the 1/4 cup of honey because I didn't have enough honey and because I'm really digging agave right now. For fruit, I tossed in apples from my neighbor's tree (after cutting out all the worms, of course), peaches, blueberries and bananas.

This breakfast includes all the essential food groups and it just sits in the fridge, ready to eat. It isn't the prettiest, but like your mother always told you, it's what's inside that counts. Plus, it couldn't be simpler to throw at your kids on a school morning and - bonus - they'll wolf it right down. Of course, that is, if you haven't eaten it all yourself.

Fruit and Oat Muesli
Adapted from Bon Appétit, January 2010

1 1/4 cups quick-cooking oats
2/3 to 3/4 cup milk (we like a little more milk in ours)
2/3 cup plain yogurt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2/3 cup orange juice
1/8 cup agave syrup (or 1/4 cup honey)
1 1/2 cups grated peeled apples (from your neighbor's tree if they're handy)
3 cups chopped fresh fruit
1 cup chopped almonds and walnuts

Mix first 4 ingredients in large bowl. Let stand 5 minutes to soften oats. Whisk orange juice and agave (or honey) in medium bowl. Stir in grated apples and chopped fruit. Stir fruit mixture into oat mixture. Cover; chill overnight. Spoon into bowls. Top with chopped nuts.

friday haiku

four days of go fish
lake swimming, monopoly
running in the woods

::

The night before we left for the woods was my favorite night of the month. My TribLocal column yesterday explains why.

two black belts in the house

This is my husband. In two months we'll celebrate our 10th anniversary. After ten years of living together day in and day out, one would think I'd know so much more about my spouse, that there would be few surprises. Wrong. This man amazes me daily. Yesterday he became a Tae Kwon Do Black Belt. Considering Andrew has never played a sport in his life, this is an unbelievable accomplishment.


This British guitar-playing, bangers-and-mash-eating man also has never owned a pair of running shoes, until this summer. Nearly every day for six weeks (for the first time in his life) he ran. Here he is finishing two miles for his black belt testing, side by side with his son.


This seven year old is my boy. Three years ago he would sit on my lap in his little Tae Kwon Do uniform and refuse to join the class. Today he is the most determined, hard-working, graceful kid on the floor. You can not imagine how inspiring a Tae Kwon Do form can be until you see Liam executing the movements to Wind or Thunder or Positive Power. This kid was born to do forms. Oh, and he can kick pretty well, too.

As of today, there are two Tae Kwon Do Black Belts in my home. I couldn't be prouder (or feel any safer!).

After the hundreds of hours these two have put into their practice and training, they fully deserve the reward. And a little rest. Because a black belt, they tell me, is just the beginning.

the greatest granola

I once knew a woman who only ate at two restaurants and she always ordered the same thing. She never changed it up. I thought she was nuts. Unless I am absolutely crazy about a particular menu item (like the crabcake hand rolls at Wok 'n Fire or the raspberry chip ice cream at Grahams), I prefer to order something different every time.

Eating at home is a different story. On a pretty regular basis throughout the summer, we've been enjoying frittata, caprese salad, kale chips, egg salad, squash-crusted pizza and granola. These foods never bore me. Especially the granola that I now eat every. single. day.

Almost every breakfast and sometimes for an afternoon or late-night snack, I have this granola in my bowl with a couple spoonfuls of plain yogurt (the whole milk organic kind because if I'm just eating a couple spoonfuls I want it to taste really delicious - i.e., not the jello-y non-fat stuff) and either fresh berries or a compote-jam thing I make by simmering down fruit (rhubarb, peaches, berries, plums - whatever is in season) with a little agave nectar and lemon juice. The awesome part, though, is the granola. I think I have posted two granola recipes before but they are nothing compared to this one. The secret, I've decided, is the orange zest.

I think I'll probably make and eat this granola for the rest of my life. Is that incredibly boring? Probably, yes. Maybe even a little nuts. But I'm okay with that. Make it and I think you'll understand.

The Greatest Granola
adapted from Super Natural Every Day

4 cups old-fashioned oats
1 cup walnut pieces
1 cup unsweetened coconut, flakes or shredded
1/2 cup raw sunflower seeds
1/2 teaspoon salt
Grated zest of 2 oranges*
1/3 cup unsalted butter
1/2 cup maple syrup

Combine oats through zest in a large bowl. Melt butter, whisk in syrup then add to oats mixture. Stir well. Spread out on two cookie sheets. Bake at 300 degrees about 35-40 minutes, turning the granola with a spatula once or twice while baking. Cool completely and store in an airtight container.

*Once I successfully used a grapefruit because I didn't have oranges and I was - gasp - out of granola. Whatever you do, don't leave out the zest.

the book this fearless idealist read with a lump in her throat

I am an idealist. A positive thinker. A glass-is-half-full girl. Because of or in spite of the fact that many “worst fears” have been realized in my life—my parents divorcing, giving birth to a developmentally challenged child, experiencing serious financial difficulties—I am not afraid of much. I am pretty sure I was born this way.

I am also pretty sure I was born to be a mother. The oldest of 20 grandchildren, I took on the role naturally and gladly acted it out in family reunion skits or playing house in my grandparents’ basement. I was sure I would have at least four kids, no problem. Marrying at 34, however, has made this dream unlikely, at least as one who births all of her children. And, so, the idea of adoption grips my heart.

My husband has known even more “worst fears” in his lifetime. The child of alcoholic parents who never wanted him and ultimately abandoned him, he, too, is a fearless idealist. And a man who dreamed for years about the family he would create someday, the one that might very possibly include an adopted child.

Some people who love us worry. They know parents for whom adoption didn’t work out so well. They know we struggle financially. They know our littlest has had a host of medical issues.

But we are not naïve. We are hopeful. We believe that when God puts a call in your heart, you just can’t ignore it. We live with no regrets and we certainly aren’t going to start racking them up now.

In her new book Love You More: The Divine Surprise of Adopting My Daughter, author Jennifer Grant (a new friend I am just learning to know) understands this longing. She writes, “the idea of adopting a child lingered in me like a song you cannot get out of your head.”

Although Jen’s story, in many ways, exudes this same kind of fearless idealism, she was not naïve about the challenges of adoption. In this intimate, beautifully written book she shares tender and devastating stories, including the agonizing wait to bring Mia home, her older daughter Isobel’s painful adjustment to her mom’s divided attention and Mia’s gut-wrenching sadness over missing the birth mother she never even knew.

I love that Jen acknowledges that adoption is not for everyone and that good intentions are not a good enough reason to travel this road. But for those who feel a tug to grow their families and stretch their hearts, adoption can be an incredible gift for everyone involved.

In the year or so that we have been looking into adoption, especially when we've begun doubting its feasibility, the most amazing little prompts and signposts have shown up, in the form of new friends with adopted children, cousins on the same journey and this wonderful book of Jen's. We're slow but God isn't giving up on us. I just know I'm going to thank him for that.

friday haiku

sometimes I forget
just how easy it can be
to make him happy

lessons from the lemonade stand

For days Liam has been asking to do a lemonade stand. Yesterday in sweltering humidity and 90 degree temps we pulled it together. Throughout the process there were many teachable moments that included math, manners and plain old common sense. I realized that I often assume too much about what my seven year old knows. Here are a few of the things "we" learned.

:: Count your change. Liam wanted to have change ready, so he thought he'd take out his bank (probably $10 of coins). It took a while to convince him that he might like to know how much he made from his lemonade stand and that this wouldn't be possible if he didn't know how much he was starting with. I gave him the option to tally every cup he sold or start with $2.00 in coins. He wisely chose to count the change. When he totaled up the take at the end of the night and easily subtracted the $2.00, he looked at me with that wow-you're-really-smart look and said, "That was a really good idea to just start with $2.00." I could totally homeschool.

:: Keep your prices low. Much thought went into pricing the lemonade. $1.00? 50 cents? 30 cents? Liam thought through all the options and finally landed on 25 cents a cup. This way "people who didn't have a lot of money" could still buy some and people who did have a lot of money could buy two cups. The great surprise was that there were people who paid a buck or more anyway. "I wasn't expecting tips," he said bewildered.


:: Decide on hiring practices. Liam asked one friend to help him man the stand and decided he'd pay him some of the money at the end. He wasn't, however, planning to hire the neighborhood. I heard him tell one friend, "It's okay if you want to pour it, but I'm not going to be able to pay you." Apparently no one minded working for free.

:: The customer comes first. When the first paying customers showed up for their lemonade, Liam poured a cup and started drinking it. "What are you doing?" I asked. "Having a drink," he said. I explained that he needed to take care of his customers first. "Oh," he said, like this had never even occurred to him.


:: Don't give away what you sell. This was advice my dad gave to me years ago, and although I don't always follow it, I've never forgotten it. Very kindly, Liam's friends paid for their drinks. His little brother, not so much. We brought water out for all the workers, though. That helped.

:: Keep your expectations in check. When the money was totaled last night, Liam's first response was to be a little disappointed, "I thought it was going to be $100." $100? For a three hour lemonade stand? So we figured out how many cups of 25 cent lemonade one would have to sell to earn $100. Quickly, he saw that $24.75 was a serious haul, from some seriously generous lemonade drinkers, including neighbors, guitar students and the postman. Of course, Liam wanted to run the stand again this afternoon. When I helped him see how much he'd need to spend to buy new supplies (as his nice mom wouldn't be footing the bill again) and pay the help, that it would be hot and humid again, and that his generous customers might have spent all their money at the stand yesterday, he decided to go swimming instead. Smart kid.