Bone-crunchers

Though the boys occasionally complain of boredom, they’re rarely actually bored around the house.  Between the backyard, the toys (that I keep stepping on) and each other, they generally keep busy running, smacking, and building, and our home rarely lacks for excitement.  You might not have known that, though, if you’d been around late Thursday afternoon, as I was preparing dinner for the oven.  “DAD!!” shouted Manny, when Gabriel walked thru the door: “We’re having MEAT ON THE BONE!!”

I was roasting a chicken for dinner.

I’m surprised that the energy and excitement in our house didn’t cause some sort of combustion, to be honest.  And I wish that I could put into words how enamored the boys were with the idea and reality of tearing flesh from the bone with their "sharp canine teeth!"  As soon as he found out that I would be roasting a chicken, the day before the meal, Jonah told me numerous times how he wanted to crack the bones with his teeth and suck out the marrow.  Yes, for real.  Manny exclaimed, “Look! Blood!” during dinner when he did actually gnaw a bone apart and discovered the spongy red layer inside.  I had to tell him that I couldn’t look, because it would probably make me ill.  In true boy form, his excitement remained undiminished.  Jonah told me (as he often does when he enjoys dinner, I must admit) that the roast chicken was “the best dinner” I’ve EVER made.

I love these boys’ enthusiasm.  I love that a roast chicken, and its accompanying bone-crunching, is a highlight of the week.  Would that I had their enthusiasm and energy for life's small pleasures, even if said small pleasure is "just" MEAT ON THE BONE!! 

Doughy, not ideal.

I'm back, with a plate of donuts. I wish you could eat them. Yes, I realize that they don't look like donuts, quite, but they're tasty! A couple nights ago, during story time, Jonah asked what the word "ideal" means. My years of liberal arts schooling came to mind, but I didn't feel like getting into philosophy, exactly, with my 5 year old at 8 p.m. We answered him with, "The best that it can be." Well, these are not ideal donuts, as far as appearances go. And some were still doughy in the middle (which was actually kind of yummy), so I can't even claim that the inside was ideal. But I've now gotten "doughnut-making" out of my system, so that's ideal.

On this cloudy, dreary Monday, on which three of the four of us at home right now have the sniffles, and the other is a 5 year-old boy who would probably rather be at school, I needed a project. Between the prep, the frying, the consuming (which would be ongoing, except that I’m experimenting with freezing these) and the cleaning, donut-making has consumed a fair chunk of my day. Clean-up shouldn’t have been such a pain, but I guess that sometimes even when you follow directions, things can still turn out a little messy. (Is that a life-lesson in tasty, doughy disguise? I will let you judge for yourself.)

The recipe is from King Arthur’s “Whole Grain Baking,” so I’m allowed to say that these donuts are, if not quite healthy, less bad than they could be. The mixture of oat flour (i.e., finely ground oats), whole wheat flour and bread flour is not too sweet; the cinnamon sugar mixture added the perfect complement to the crunchy exterior. I’m not such a fan of the powdered sugar, which was a concession to my eldest son -- I think I didn’t wait long enough to roll the donuts in the sugar, so the powder is still moist and sticky. Though, now that I write that, I realize that I can try to pass that off as the frosting that the boys have been wanting, just like Dunkin’ Donuts fried dough. I wonder if they’ll be convinced...

Sweet Saturday

My own little piece of sweet candy.

Every year for the past three, my mom has had the hankerin' to come down to Chicago to visit around the first weekend in February. This weekend just happens to coincide with "Sweet Saturdays" at the Garfield Park Conservatory, a program that shows kids (and adults, too, I guess) some foods that are harvested from plants -- cinnamon, pineapple, vanilla, chocolate. We get free samples, and the climate is warm and a little humid, which is a real treat midwinter!

The boys remembered this pond from last year, with its magical yellow (glass) "lily pads." These lily pads are art that I can get behind.

In the cafe area of the Conservatory, a local band called Tarima Son was playing some sort of Latin music. I wish that I could be more specific, but there are so many styles of Latino music that I'm not going to pretend that I can keep them all straight! The music got Jonah a-dancin' and Iohan a-starin'. He was what they call "agape"; it was so sweet. Eventually he danced, which at 15 months was little more than several deep knee bends. Can you see it at right?

Iohan enjoyed his first hot dog at the Conservatory. And when I say "enjoyed," I mean enjoyed; he ate the whole thing. Way to go, Fat Man! (Many of Io-Io's nicknames refer to his girth, or to his spherical form.)

Gifts, part 2

My maternal grandma's table at the holidays often featured her apple plates and her milk glass. As she and my grandpa are beginning to pack up to move from their house into a senior community, she's been kind enough to give me some of her lovely milk glass. There's just something so rich about the opaque white glass that I love. And the design of the bowl below is beautiful -- almost like lace, but with a bit more heft.

Maybe a part of the reason I love the white is that it's perfect for holidays: Pure white suitable for Pascha (Easter), and snow white for New Years, or, as below, for Christmas. Look how nice it is in our Christmas 2010 Christmas spread!

Thank you, Grandma!

Gifts, part 1

For my 30th birthday, my aunt Linda gave me a gingerbread house. Perhaps not the first thing on a 30 year old's birthday wish list, but for me this was perfect. One of my many fond childhood memories is of working on the annual gingerbread house at Linda's house with my sister and our two cousins. In fact, when I think of my aunt and uncle's old house on Powers street, the gingerbread house pops into my head about 50% of the time -- it made that much of an impression. This gift came at an especially perfect time because just a week prior, Jonah had seen a gingerbread house at a store and asked if we could have one. Yes!!

The fantasy...

...the reality. Not too shabby!

The boys attempted to cover their gingerbread man and snowman with colored fondant. Well, what I should say, is that they attempted to *nicely* cover the gingerbread man and the snowman with fondant; you can see that the little figures are definitely covered.

Aunt Linda's note said that, at age 30 and with two young kids and a husband, she wanted to start some of her own family's traditions, and the gingerbread house was one of them. This tradition was shared with many of us outside of her immediate family and has become a treasured memory. I hope to add the house of yum to my own family's traditions so that my own kids might someday look back and remember not just the house, but also the love surrounding it.

First solids

These pictures were taken mid-May, a few days after Iohan was 6 months old. I finally caved and gave him solid food -- one more meal to prepare, but I can't make the poor child survive on mama milk forever. He loves me all the more for letting him grow up. He's also growing out, thighs chubbier than ever, belly nice and round. Just the way a baby should be. Avocado was Iohan's first food. I look at these pictures, and all I hear is, "Squish, squish, squish."

Hot diggity!

At the beginning of June, we celebrated Jonah's last day of play class with a stop at ye olde weiner stand. Sadly, it only served to remind me why I don't eat hot dogs, but I didn't let my rebelling senses rain on the boys' parade. They were so happy that Manny willingly shared with Jonah. Now that's somethin'. Actually, no, now that I write that I realize that "somethin'" would be if Jonah willingly shared with Manny -- Moosy is fairly generous -- but you get the point, right? They loved it. Possibly atomic relish. I won't use vulgar language, so as to protect the sensitivities of some of my readers, but I will say that I only let my kids eat this, ahem, STUFF once in a while. It was painful to even look at. It actually colored Manny's bowels. Atomic!

Cutest. Kid. EVER!

Independence

This is what independence looks like. A pickle, mustard and "cheese product" slapped on a piece of bread.

Last week, when asked what he wanted for lunch, Jonah refused to answer (not uncommon). I turned to Manny, who answered, "Mac 'n' cheese." When Jonah found out what was on the menu, though, he just about lost it; he was eating no mac 'n' cheese, thank you very much. I told him, "Fine, child, you can make your own lunch." He did. He opened the fridge, placed everything he needed on the counter and assembled the sandwich himself, then ate it happily. (Unfortunately, we were out of both deli turkey and hamburger pickles, so Jonah was stuck with a meatless, pickle-speared sandwich.) While I don't want my child eating pickle and cheese product sandwich every day, there is something amazing and satisfying in seeing him do something all by himself. Jonah was at least a little proud of himself, too, I think. He still relies on me so much and is sometimes a real "Mama's boy," crying when I leave the house to go to the YMCA or run an errand without him. Insignificant though it may seem, Jonah making his own sandwich is one of the ways in which I see him becoming his own little man, separating himself from me and from complete dependence. Bittersweet, it's true, but necessary and important. And, really, there wasn't any mac 'n' cheese left by the time Manny was done with it, so it was a good thing that Jonah had another plan in motion.

Rogue's gallery

Last year I picked up a $4 box of Crayola gingerbread cookie mix, frosting and edible paint. I finally used it this winter as a way to pass one of our too many cold days. They actually tasted quite good. I tried and mostly succeeded in supressing my "the cookies all have to look cute!" urge; I let the boys paint them however they wanted after I applied the frosting. Gabe's comments were that we had quite the "rogue's gallery" of cookies; and that these cookies would be quite disturbing if they weren't painted by children. Here are Jonah and Manny's creations, in all their glory. I'm learning to love preschool art. Mr Scarf 'n' Boots, no eyes. (Manny, except for the boots.)

4 Eyes. (Manny)

Mr Minimal-Paint. (Jonah)

Half-a-Smurf. (Manny)

Ugh. This cookie looks too gory for comment. At least Manny succeeded with proper eye-placement on this one. (Manny)

Rainbow Snowsuit. (Jonah)