Seven Quick Takes Friday, Vol. 42

Linking up with Jen & Co!

I

I missed last week's Quick Takes with a migraine, and will be missing next week's for a much better reason: we are finally taking our first camping trip as a family! We're planning to spend one night at a lake in the mountains and one night in Denali Park. I am looking forward to it so much!

II

Thirteen months is too young to be throwing tantrums. Isn't it? Little Bear is definitely starting to make a scene when he is displeased, though. He yells when I take the wrong cereal out of the cupboard, when I offer him a bite, when I don't offer him a bite, when I put him in his chair, when I take him out of his chair, when I set him on the floor, when I set him on my lap, when I don't let him play with Daddy's computer cables, when I decline to sing "Rain Rain Go Away" for the seventeenth time in a row... Because he's so little, though, I'm not sure how to teach him that he can't do that. Timeouts aren't effective yet, because he simply doesn't understand.

III

We ordered a couple of things from Cabelas for our upcoming camping trip, and in the box there was a promo code for a company called NakedWines.com. They seem like a legitimate company, and $160 of wine for $60 sounds like a pretty good deal, but there is the little problem of the note on their FAQ page: "Alaska and Hawaii are really far out so they're used to the fact that paying a lot for shipping is the cost of living in wild serenity." Ouch. I mean, yes, we are used to everyone charging an arm and a leg in shipping, but most people aren't that blunt about it... So I don't think we will be using our code, and I'd be happy to let someone else have it!

IV

Hypothetical scenario: You have the opportunity to go to daily Mass today. Your child(ren) should be napping, but since that's not happening, you load up and head out. By the time you are halfway to the church, the traffic is backed up, the child(ren) screaming, and it is obvious that you are going to be late. Do you go anyway, knowing that you need the grace, or do you turn around and go home, reasoning that no one wants to see your screaming offspring at the church anyway?

V

The other weekend at a garage sale, I picked up the first two Mitford novels for fifty cents. They aren't quite my usual genre, but I'd heard them spoken quite highly of, and I'm so glad I have them a try! The best words I can find to describe them are "comfortable," "cozy" and "charming;" they chronicle the everyday adventures of the quiet, rural southern appalachian town of Mitford, experienced by the older Episcopalian rector. I picked up the next six at a used bookstore this week, and a friend passed down her copy of the final book, so I have the whole set to work through during Little Bear's afternoon naps.

VI

Matt came home from work early today -- which never happens, so it scared me half to death when I heard someone opening the front door -- with a great deal of pain in his mid back. He's spent the rest of the day laying down with heat on it, taking ibuprofen every few hours, and would sure appreciate some prayers that it clears up soon!

VII

And... I have nothing. Um, camping food? I'm supposed to be working on a menu for our three-day-two-night adventure; if you have any suggestions for camping meals that don't require a whole lot of preparation or clean-up, I'd love to hear them.

Have a lovely weekend!

Cooling Off

This morning, Little Bear discovered that by turning on the bathroom sink and clamping his hand over the faucet, he could make water squirt everywhere. Cold, cold, icy, frigid water. Oh, child, no! He shrieked with laughter as I scrambled to pull him away from the sink and mop up the mess.

If we'd been outdoors, I wouldn't have begrudged him his fun; it has been hot here, much hotter and sunnier than is usual for August so far, and playing in cold water is pretty much the best way to cool down. (Okay, not including the grocery store's sale on Ben & Jerry's this week, but they are clearly trying lure me away from my diet.)

One of the things I'm most looking forward to about someday having our own house is setting up a sprinkler in the yard on a hot, sunny day for Little Bear to play in. Better yet, having a garden and letting him play with the hose while we water plants. When I was younger, watering was definitely the most coveted of the garden chores: you got to keep yourself cool, and could splash unsuspecting siblings, too!

We don't have any outdoor water to play in at our apartment, but we've come up with some other fun ways to keep cool: Taking walks first thing in the morning with a neighbor lets us get outside and exercise, but be home again before the day warms up. Yesterday, after Matt got home, we took advantage of a rare windy evening to have a picnic at a park, and rode their historic train during a quick cloudburst. Sunday evening always sees us taking a walk to the boat launch about half a mile away, where we watch boaters on the river and Matt teaches Little Bear to throw rocks into the water.

It's hard to imagine as every other day we set a new high temperature record, but winter will be here before we know it. Last year it snowed and stuck the first week of October! I keep trying to remember that whenever I want to moan about the heat: soon enough it will be snowing, and I'll long for another week of this weather.

A Good Wife

The other day, I cleaned the kitchen after breakfast, did the laundry, took out the trash, and fed Little Bear when he was hungry. We made the trek across town to feed my parents' dog and water their garden. When we got home, Little Bear and I played in the living room until he wanted to eat, and he fell asleep on my lap for three and a half hours. And as soon as Matt got home from work, I started apologizing for being such a terrible wife.

A good wife would never let you come home to such a messy house... A good wife would have cleaned the grill and trimmed the grass around the front step that the mower always misses... A good wife would have supper underway and a drink waiting when you get home... A good wife would time the child's naps better... A good wife would do everything perfectly all of the time, and I'm so sorry I'm such a bad wife.

Where does this come from? Matt has never, ever, asked me to do any of those things; never, ever, expressed disappointment, even nonverbally, about the state of the house or my progress (or lack thereof) on dinner, or anything else I do. He frequently tells me that I have the harder job, and that he's so appreciative of everything I do to keep the household running. He isn't the one piling expectations on me; I'm doing it to myself.

It's so easy to see that everything isn't perfect, and interpret that as a direct personal failure. Instead of seeing toys on the floor, I see my failure to keep the room neat. Instead of saying that dinner will be a little late because the meat didn't thaw as quickly as I expected, I say that I failed to plan properly and won't be able to have the meal on the table when the clock displays some arbitrary number. Little Bear isn't having a fussy day; I'm failing to do my job of keeping him happy while accomplishing everything else. And even if I'm at the end of my rope with the child, and the house, and the heat, and freelance deadlines, of course I will encourage my husband to go do something fun with his friends in the evening, because a good wife wouldn't be feeling overwhelmed right now, so I shouldn't ask him to stay home.

When--and how--did the '50s-housewife caricature that modern feminists love to hate become my image of a good wife? Not even a perfect wife, but just good? From the fact that I compare myself at my worst to other women at their best, yes, but I think even more than that, it ultimately comes from the mantra you hear so often among moms--particularly homeschooling moms, it seems--who are so bent on 'doing it right': "Mary is the perfect model of a wife and mother."

What?

Please don't tell me that I should want to be more like Mary. I know that I should be more like Mary; I spent four years at college hearing that at least once a day on campus, I hear it all the time online, and from other moms in person. I tell myself that I need to be more like Mary all. the. time. But Mary was perfect, y'all. Perfect. And I'm not. I am sooooooo far from being perfect... and I think that's where this "good wife" problem comes in:

Being more like Mary is the ultimate goal, but because she's perfect and I am so far from perfect, I need to become a "good" wife and mother before I can aspire to being a "perfect" one. Which means (in my head, mind you) that Mary isn't the right role model right now; she's too far beyond me, too unattainably perfect. I need some intermediate goal, an intermediate role model. Enter the 1950s housewife: cheerful, loving, organized, pretty, a good cook. If the vast majority of women sixty years ago could do it, and I have so many labor-saving devices they didn't (a dishwasher, for crying out loud!), surely there's no reason I can't at least meet that ideal. My mother still does, every single day. And once I've solidly mastered this ideal of a "good wife," I can start working toward being more like the perfect wife, Mary.

But I can't, and I don't understand why, and it frustrates me... while my husband gets frustrated that I'm even trying, when all he wants is to come home to a minimally-chaotic house and a minimally-stressed wife. 

And I'm sure that Mary always had dinner ready on time, too. But maybe her Child didn't spend the hour before Joseph came in for dinner clinging to her knees and fussing...

What Day Is It?

Wow. I feel like I lost a week there... First thing Thursday morning a massive ocular migraine hit, and I'm still feeling it a little bit today. It started with wavy lines of light blocking my vision, and was shortly followed by the most painful headache I've ever had -- I'd heard people talk about something being "painful enough to make you throw up," but I'd always thought it was just a figure of speech. It's definitely not. I spent the day laying in a dark room with my eyes closed, while my mom and siblings, bless them, took care of Little Bear. Looking at screens or other lights for any length of time is still triggering headaches, so this won't be much of a post, but I'm so much better than I was and it's been a week since I last posted...

...and today's our anniversary. Thank you for two wonderful years, Matt! I'm theoretically cleaning the grill this afternoon so that we can throw on some steaks and zucchini, and maybe if we're feeling fancy we will pick up a bottle of wine after Matt gets off work. We aren't very good at making a big deal out of things over here, but that's the way we both like it.

[I would put a photo of the two of us here, but I don't have any... We're also bad at taking photos, apparently.]

 

What I Wore Sunday {25}

Joining everyone for WIWS at Fine Linen and Purple this afternoon! Oh, and today is the last day of Jen's 7 posts in 7 days challenge; what a week it's been.

Planning today's schedule was complicated, and like most things that you try to plan around kids, it didn't really work. Our parish's annual "pignic" (pig roast + picnic) is this afternoon at 2, so we had to find a Mass that A) would let Little Bear get a nap and B) was at a parish we are comfortable attending. B automatically limited us to two, ours and the university parish; our parish is far enough away that driving there twice in one day (going home for his nap) is just too expensive, so we wound up at the university. On paper, it looked perfect: sleep in, 10:30 Mass, home for his nap, 2:00 pignic. 

But then he decided that we weren't sleeping in. And despite being sooooo sleeeeepy that he couldn't sit up nicely during Mass, he continued resisting a nap until 12:30. Best-laid plans, and all that. I guess we will be playing the pignic by ear.

Mass went well, though, and I really can't complain about his behavior; I took him to the back to nurse when he started getting loud during the homily, but we were back with Daddy by the offertory and aside from some soft whining and squirming, he behaved himself for the rest of Mass. Father Sean's homily was great, what I heard before taking Little Bear out, and he had a perfect present-day example of a child talking to his father to relate to the first reading.

Having a longer morning at home than usual was nice, too; I managed to make a fruit salad for the pignic. I call this "what do I have in the fridge? salad with blueberry-poppyseed dressing":

Watermelon and kiwi and bananas, oh my.

So, the outfit.

T-Shirt: thrifted

Eyelet skirt: gift from my mom (thrifted)

Sandals: Payless

Scarf: thrifted

 My mom found this skirt for me at the thrift store several weeks ago and I loved it immediately, but I hadn't worn it yet because I had no idea what to pair it with and was afraid of the wide flouncy-ness... I've put enough work into trying to lose baby weight, I don't even want to look at anything that will make me look bigger than I am! I know that everyone is wearing them these days and that they look good on everyone I've ever seen them on, but it's still so hard to try any new style because I still see myself as overweight and squishy postpartum. But as I was laying in bed this morning trying to decide on a Mass outfit, thinking about this skirt and wishing I was brave enough to try it, I remembered  Sarah's post about skinny jeans the other day. Was I just prejudiced against this style because I "know" it's going to look bad, without even trying it? Yes, yes I was.

So here it is. I quickly scrolled through Pinterest to see how other women style this shape of skirt, and I think I was actually happy with the results! Hopefully I've learned my lesson about fashion prejudice: If there's a style I like on other people, I can't just say, "That's so cute, but I could never pull it off," unless I've actually tried. That's why they have dressing rooms! Trying it on gives me a 50/50 chance of being pleasantly surprised, but just wishing guarantees I'll never wear it.

Spoiled Milk

Well, I had a long post all written out about our incredibly exciting morning removing Little Bear's first splinter and trying to keep a bandaid on the offending finger (oh horrors!), wearing a bandaid clearly being the most traumatic thing that has ever happened to him in his entire life and I'm surprised the neighbors didn't call someone to make sure everything was okay, with all of the hysterics... But the Internet ate my post, and I don't feel like rehashing the drama again. So lucky you; here's a recipe instead:

Buttermilk Cinnamon Bread

1/4 cup butter, softened

1 cup sugar

1 egg

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

2 cups flour

1 cup buttermilk (or sour milk)

1/4 cup sugar

1 tablespoon ground cinnamon

Preheat oven to 350 F. Cream butter and 1 cup sugar. Beat in egg. Slowly add baking powder, baking soda, salt, and flour. Beat in milk until smooth. In a small bowl, combine 1/4 cup sugar and cinnamon. Pour 1/3 of batter into greased loaf pan; sprinkle 1/3 of cinnamon sugar on top. Repeat twice, ending with sugar on top. Bake for 50 minutes or until inserted knife comes out clean.

This may be my new favorite quickbread, y'all. It is so easy, and so delicious, and such a perfect texture, and it's a convenient way to use up the milk that didn't all get used before the expiration date... really, what more could you ask for? 

I'm making another loaf today to stick in the freezer; it's that good. If you want to try it but don't have any buttermilk or expired milk (am I the only one who winds up with that problem?), just use regular milk and add a couple of drops of white vinegar or lemon juice -- that works just fine.

What I Wore Sunday {24}

Linking up a little late with the fabulous ladies of Fine Linen and Purple!

This morning we had a substitute priest at our parish; this is his third year spending about a month in Alaska giving our pastor a hand, and we are grateful for his sacrifice coming here and helping our pastor out! As I understand it, each will be saying two weekend Masses (different schedule each week) and they will trade off during the weekdays. I am sure that it is helpful for our pastor to get a bit of a break; we are the largest parish in the diocese, and he generally has to handle everything liturgical himself since our diocese simply doesn't have enough priests.

Which is why I feel so guilty about my reaction upon finding out that our pastor was not the celebrant of the Mass we attended this morning. We were able to attend Mass; there was a priest; he didn't change the words of the consecration or anything like that; I have absolutely 100% no right whatsoever to complain. But I looked at my husband, sighed, and maybe even rolled my eyes a little bit, because both of us are bothered by his delivery of his homilies. And yes, he did swear in his homily today like we remembered from last year. But he did have a good message, and it's uncommon these days to hear about the redemptive nature of suffering from the pulpit, and I realize that it was not a huge deal in the grand scheme of things. Totally not justification for being annoyed and allowing myself to be distracted from what I should have been focusing on. Mea culpa.

Would it be wrong, or rude, or in poor taste for us to attend a different parish for the next few weeks? Does the intention behind the act matter? We could say that we were doing it because we really do like the priest at the university parish and don't get to hear his homilies very often... or because we wanted to save some gas money by going to a parish that isn't 20 miles away... or because Little Bear has been unusually fussy with new teeth coming in lately... And all of those excuses would be true, but they would still be excuses. Is it enough of a reason that we don't want our (preverbal) son to hear a priest swearing? That we don't want to hear that? I don't know.

Anyway! What you're really here for:

Grey cable-knit sweater: thrifted ages ago

Scarf that used to be on my head: garage sale

Green microsuede skirt: Sears

Shoes: hand-me-ups from my little sister

Disaster of a hairdo: scarf + child

The little man is all in hand-me-down Old Navy.

It has been chilly! The high today was theoretically 72, but I don't think we ever got there. I definitely wasn't overwarm in the crowded church in this sweater/scarf/heavy skirt combination, and Little Bear didn't complain once about wearing flannel. Is it really still July? It feels like September!

I hope that you are enjoying more seasonable weather. Have a lovely week!