A Mindful Life

The first week of January is nearly past! I have only a few minutes to write this post, so it’s a bit scattered. I signed up to participate in Creative Every Day 2009, so here’s my first post about it. For Christmas I received some culinary items: a jumbo muffin pan, four really heavy cookie/jelly roll sheets, 6 tart pans, 4 mini loaf pans, and 2 mini cake pans, along with a book called Small-Batch Baking. I really enjoy baking (even more than cooking), but most baked goods are indulgences. And as we should know but have forgotten, an indulgence is a treat, something enjoyed specially; however, the quantities most recipes create are many dozens of cookies or large pies and cakes that a family of three does not need.

This morning I put the loaf pans to use by making more pumpkin bread. I’ve found that large loaves don’t get consumed quickly enough, and another point to baking small is to reduce the amount of temptation to overeat. I was really pleased with the results and look forward to making more goodies. The recipes in the book make very small amounts; for example, a recipe for a cake makes 2 little cakes (slightly larger than a jumbo muffin) or a half a dozen cookies.

I’ve also decided this year to get creative about food in a different way. I received three other books, some of which provide ideas to ponder and one of which also has recipes. One of my relatives has undergone a significant weight loss, and she and I discussed eating habits and the need to remain healthy, and how excess weight impinges on health. Eating differently — heathfully and in less quantity — is also a creative response to environmental issues.

I realize I have, for too many years, consumed food mindlessly in quantities that would shock a large percentage of the world population. As I watch my daughter learn to eat and to feed herself, I’ve felt my conscience poked and prodded. She follows her natural hunger and satiation. It’s been so long since I stopped at satiation. I know what hunger feels like but often eat as recreation, and I often eat beyond simple fullness. So many people live on much, much less. And in fact, as my relative and I discussed, our sense of proportion is extremely skewed. We have grown accustomed to large servings and lost the understanding of how truly little a body needs to thrive. By reducing how much I consume, I can save our family money, and some of that money will go to organizations such as Feeding America and Heifer International. So the books I will be reading are:

• Food Matters: A Guide to Conscious Eating, by Mark Bittman (includes recipes)
• The Omnivore’s Dilemma, by Michael Pollan
• In Defense of Food, by Michael Pollan

We have family we are born into, and we have family we create, and since our culture beckons us to wander in search of better opportunities, we are often far from our born family at holiday time; so we turn to celebrating with our intentional families. Today was such a gathering. The core of the group is three men who’ve known each other many years. They met “back in the day” at college and at their first professional job. They’ve seen each other through flush times and rough times, called-off engagements and divorces, the death of a parent, cross-country moves, weddings, and the births of their first children. Husband, M, and S, and those “born to” family members nearby this holiday gathered to feast and catch up today. Claire, as usual, loved the party. She is a smiley ray of sweet charm. She managed to rise to the occasion despite the discomfort of two molars pushing through (but they are almost done, thank goodness).

I usually recap the previous year by posting the first sentence written here for each month. Here is the one for 2007. I thought I’d done it previous years to that, but I can’t find it in the archives.

January: My day isn’t over yet.

February: Claire napped four times yesterday, only 30 minutes each.

March: From an email I wrote to a friend who has several children (but it was also me talking to myself and thus worth it to me to post):
Please tell me the fact that my daughter isn’t sitting unassisted at six months is okay.

April: I’ll face reality.

May: I originally knit a baby hat and an adult hat.

June: This was a work weekend.

July: I made Claire’s hat and trusted the pattern.

August: The simplicity of this photo belies the amazing life activity that is constantly occurring within.

September: Claire is an amazing little person.

October: My good friend Ambrosia just welcomed her little girl, Gwendolyn Rose, at 6:33 this morning.

November: This year, my efforts with AEDM will probably be simple, the result of quickie creativity cobbled together from stolen moments.

December: Today was Claire’s first day at the parent-participation preschool session.

My mother-in-law arrived today and we had Christmas again. I caught this shot and decided it was one to share.

I’m leaving soon to go see my friend in Oakland. I uploaded a bunch of photos and videos to Flickr for friends & family to see. Claire enjoyed Christmas immensely. Here’s one photo to tide you over.

After reading three different versions of The Night Before Christmas about 20 times each today (which I did willingly and happily), sweet Claire is now asleep. She is too young to understand who Santa is or what Christmas is really about, but our little parrot spent the day repeating Santa and (with prompting) Merry Christmas. It comes out sounding more like Mewy Cwithmah. Quite charming!

She sampled two spoons of my clam chowder. A simple supper of French bread and clam chowder on Christmas Eve is a family tradition from my childhood which Husband has enjoyed adopting. As I write this, I’m listening to the radio, a classical music station with symphonic Christmas music. A small glass of eggnog is at my side. Husband is upstairs wrapping the rest of his presents to me. All of the others are wrapped.

I’ve also explored Norad Tracks Santa. It’s a lot of fun even for adults. Click on the small presents and a little box with a photo of the location pops up. There are places — little atolls and countries — that I never knew existed. There’s also video footage of Santa traveling and a narrative about what he’s doing. Oh! I must remember to leave out cookies and a glass of milk for Santa too.

Sweet dreams of sugar plums, everyone!

Please go take a look. Puts things in perspective.

I just learned today that my good friend who has a two-month-old baby (Baby G) was in a bad car accident on Saturday. Her baby is fine and so is her husband, but she was moved to a hospital in Oakland for surgery. She has a smashed kneecap, a smashed tibia, a broken rib, and a broken collarbone (which needs a pin put in). She’s in surgery today for her knee and collarbone. At the end of the week she may go home if she can maneuver herself into a wheelchair, but if not, she’ll have to go to a rehab facility for awhile. Her came mother-in-law came from out of town and is watching the baby right now.

She called me today to let me know and unburden herself. We’d given our infant car seat to them, and that was what Baby G was in when the accident occurred. It will need to be replaced, and she said they’d be getting the same one. My friend was trying to be brave, to focus on the fact it could have been so much worse. Yes, it could have been, yet it is also pretty bad right now. She is without her child. She is pumping her milk in an attempt not to lose it. She has a long road to physical healing. She will have to somehow care for her baby and herself once she’s home, and she’ll need a lot of support (professional and informal friend support).

It’s the kind of thing that happens all the time to someone. It’s just not someone I know. So I’m a little aquiver from the news.

It’s been entirely too long since I’ve sat down to write. Claire’s four molars are still cutting, and when she’s awake she is clingy with me. But she has changed remarkably — every day there is greater comprehension, and we are astonished. I want to make a note of this, so here’s a quick list.

• One morning, I pulled out her construction trucks puzzle and noticed the concrete mixer piece was missing. I commented on this, saying I wondered where it went. Immediately Claire began digging into a basket full of stuffed animal toys and pulled out the piece. Maybe she put it there the previous day for some reason?
• Claire increasingly asks “Doing?” as she watches us. Sometimes she’ll say “Mommy doing?” (or Daddy), and we’ll describe what it is we are doing: loading the dishwasher, eating lunch, reading mail, etc.
• She has cute little one-piece footed pajamas; one of them has pigs all over. As I dressed her the other night, she began to kiss the piggies. Claire loves to kiss: pictures of animals in books, her stuffed animals, Stella cat, us, her friends. She’d kiss dogs and cats she meets if we’d let her. I’ve never seen such an affectionate child.
• Speaking of affection, I had special moment with her the other morning. I was sitting on the kitchen floor where we’d been playing. Claire had walked away but I hadn’t stood up yet. I was resting. My back was toward her, and she walked up to me. She leaned against my back, nuzzled her head against my neck, and patted my arm. It was a deliberate moment of expressed affection that she initiated. It was the first time, and I just wanted to hold her forever and kiss her to pieces for that.
• Claire is game to say any word or phrase if you say, “Can you say [fill in the blank]?” We always say “I love you” to each other and to her, and the other day I asked her if she could say that. And she did (slightly garbled but still). I think she understands what this means too, because once I said “I love you” to her and she came over to give me a kiss. Another time, when I was putting her down for a nap, I said it, and she said it in response.
• Claire also likes to play a game called “I gitchoo!” She walks around saying this, and I chase her on my hands and knees while she runs away squealing. Then she turns and runs towards me so I can “get her,” which results in squeals of delight. I hug, kiss, and tickle her, and she loves it. She initiates this game often.
• Peering around corners or furniture and saying, “I see you!” is another game she likes to play. And if she can stand on anything (even a book), she likes to announce that she is “up high” over and over again.
• Until recently, according to Claire dogs said “Bow.” In that past two days, she says dogs go “bow wow.” And she calls them dogs now (where “bow” was the word for dog and their sound).

There is more, but this is all I can think of right now.

I’ve created a problem situation for us, however. Over time, Claire has come to drink milk only from a bottle and only lying in my arms. I had not pushed getting to milk in a sippy cup (she drinks water from a sippy) because she was so small and ate so little that I wanted to be sure she got a good amount of calories daily. I was supposed to have her off bottle by the time she turned 15 months. (But then the handout I was given at that appointment said to have them off the bottle by 18 months, and I’ve heard some children don’t give up the bottle until 24 months. However, the pediatrician said to get her off by 18 months, and Husband wants to follow that.)

Anyhow, any time we offer milk in a sippy a terrible storm occurs. She screams, cries, stomps her feet, bangs her head on stuff, rolls on the ground, and is generally inconsolable. Since her molars have been cutting, she has increased her use of the bottle for comfort. She often demands milk and walks to the kitchen. She will only drink it if I hold her (handing her the bottle is unacceptable); sometimes she drinks a significant amount but usually she has only 2-3 ounces. I do continually offer milk in a sippy cup (we’ve tried several types and brands), but she rejects it.

I keep rationalizing. Her mouth hurts, she needs comfort. It’s the holidays, I don’t want to have a lousy Christmas with temper tantrums. Her grandma is coming for a week at the end of the month, I want to wait until after that. My friend and her daughter, Fia, are returning January 8 from a trip. She’d offered to take the bottles and store them to keep temptation out of reach. So Husband and I agreed we would take the bottles away on January 10th. I know that the longer I wait the more set in her ways she becomes. It’s going to be rough for however long it takes. I talk to her about being a big girl and not a baby anymore, and about how big girls use cups. Several times she has said “Baby! Baby!” and clung to me. And believe me, we have a lot of cuddle time during the day. It’s not as though losing the bottle will mean losing cuddle. I’ve even held her while offering the cup, but this is met with an arched back and screaming.

As with the napping in the crib, Claire and I have to negotiate this. It starts with me acting like the adult, like the… oh my gosh, the parent.

My love.