A Cookie Jar and Some Chocolate Macadamia Goodness.

Almost eleven months ago, we celebrated our third wedding anniversary by getting veggie burgers  and tater tots at a drive-in restaurant and using something called a Groupon for the first time (maybe you've heard of it?) to go to one of those paint your own pottery places. I'd been wanting to go to one of those places since I was about ten. 

After taking a solid twenty minutes hemming and hawing over what we were going to paint together - something for the baby? something to hang on wall? - we decided to paint a cookie jar, with the agreement that I would always keep it filled with cookies. Amen.

The other day, I realized the cookie jar had been empty for quite some time. A travesty! And breaking one of my marital vows. This was unacceptable.

I'd been wanting to make some kind of cookie with macadamia nuts for a few weeks after compulsively buying a bag of them at Trader Joe's. I adapted a recipe and made some tasty little cookies.

The ingredients. Everything I have is from Trader Joe's or the bulk foods store.

What, you don't take photos of your ingredients for a recipe next to an old record player while your son eats a teething biscuit in the corner? :)

Chopping up macadamia nuts is hard. The little buggers slide around.

 

I've only been able to make cookies ONCE without eating some of the cookie dough.This was certainly not that time.

The little cuties all lined up and ready to go in the oven. Love my Silpat, man.

They are delightful, just soft enough, with big yummy chunks of nuts and chocolate. I love almond extract, so I put some in most of my cookies - it really makes them tasty.

They're delicious with some coffee or a cup of iced chai.

Macadamia Chocolate Chip Cookies

adapted from here
Makes 2  and 1/2 dozen

2 cups all purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
2/3 cup canola oil
2/3 cup sugar
3/4 cup brown sugar
1/3 cup milk (cow or non-dairy)
1 tablespoon ground flax seed
1 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon almond extract (or more vanilla)
1 1/3 cups unsalted, chopped macadamia nuts
1/2 cup chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350F.

Beat together oil, sugars, milk, flax seed and extracts. Add flour, baking soda and nutmeg slowly until well mixed.

Fold in nuts and chocolate chips.  Dough will be extremely thick and sticky. (Eat some.)

Drop tablespoon-sized portions onto a parchment paper-lined (or Silpat!) cookie sheet. Keep them roughly 2 inches apart.

Bake for 12-14 minutes.  Let them cool on the cookie sheet for 5 minutes after removing them from the oven – this lets them set. Cool completely on a wire rack.

“This is where your mom and dad had their first relationship talk, Gabe.”

 We used to be spontaneous trip-taking people.

Pre-parenthood, I mean.

We'd wake up one Saturday morning and decide to drive three hours to the nearest Ikea. Or decide to road trip to LA just two weeks before doing it, making plans as we went. We love to go places. We love to see things. We love to do it all together. We may not have much extra money, but we prefer to spend what extra we do have on travels. (Since we *don't* have much extra, our trips tend to be domestic and drivable. My biggest dream? Someday, we'll see southeast Asia, and where I grew up for half a decade, together.)

Impending parenthood last summer meant we were hesitant to travel much, and I wondered how much our little trips here and there would change come baby.

I still wonder, to be honest. Most of me is all: “This baby is going to grow up to be adventurous! Adaptable! Resilient! He will eat what we eat! Stay where we stay! Adapt to our life! We won't over-think things or over-prepare or be stupidly anxious about traveling with him! IT WILL BE GREAT! (But also hard, sometimes.)” A tiny part of me doubts this: “He needs routine. He'll probably be lost and confused going to bed early at home, then late when traveling. EVERYTHING WILL GET SCREWED UP. Also, diapers. And nursing. And naps. Where will he take The Naps, hmmmmm?”

Saturday afternoon, Mike casually mentioned going to Dayton, the city where I went to college, where he went to grad school, where we met, where we lived our first married year, and where I spent the most consecutive years in one city in my entire life (five years, to be exact). We hadn't been down together in two-and-a-half years, and always joked that we were going to take Gabe someday to show him how he came to be.

After snagging a deal on a hotel room online, I figured it was meant to be. We packed the car within an hour of Mike mentioning the trip and we were on our way.

Yessss, see we are still able to take spontaneous trips! Do fun things on a whim! This. Will. Be. AWESOME!

Then it started raining. And Gabe got loud and fussy. And I thought I might fall asleep behind the wheel thanks to a late night and a baby that consistently wakes up before 7 am.

About an hour into the four-hour trip, my adventurous spirit was squelched, and doubt started to creep in: You have a babeee now. You can't just drag him around where ever you feel like on a whim. This trip isn't going to be worth it. You'll be tired. You won't have fun with a baby that doesn't take naps away from home well.

And, you guys?

Our little trip was awesome. AWESOME.

I fancy ourselves laid-back, easy going-type parents, so we embraced that side. Instead of enforcing his usual 7 pm bedtime, we let Gabe stay up until 10 pm and all crashed together. Instead of wrestling with a pack n play or getting a crib from the hotel, we got a room with two full beds – Gabe and I in one, Mike in the other. (Happily, or sadly?, we all slept ridiculously well. I so don't want to be a couple that sleeps separately for the baby, but perhaps for vacations?). Though, I was too uptight to let Gabe play on the floor (I am terrified of hotel room floors. Irrational fear. The germs! And scabies! And people pee on them! See? Irrational.). We changed his diaper on the front seat (what is with the lack of changing tables?), and even used cloth! I nursed him on campus in a quiet alcove and lots of times in the front seat of our parked car. We didn't bring any pureed baby food – he just ate little bits of our food. He napped in his stroller or in the car, but we weren't too particular about when he slept or didn't.

Of course, it wasn't all roses: he cried in the car inconsolably (torture), fussed and threw things off the table in a quiet restaurant, and fell asleep right before we put him in the car (inevitable wake-up. Is there anything worse?). During these times, we were all, “Never. Never leaving the house again. What were we thinking?”

But, fingers crossed, I think he'll recover from his break in routine just fine. (And good thing, since we already booked several other little trips this summer: nine days in a cabin in western Massachusetts, three nights in Asheville, North Carolina, and a week at a beach house in South Carolina.)

The trip itself? Was just what I needed. A breath of fresh air. A hug. A happy dance.

We spent the whole day yesterday galavanting around town – getting an amazing breakfast (banana pecan pancakes for Mike and chai tea french toast for me) at a cute, new little cafe; stopping by our absolute favorite coffee shop ever (so many hours spent there our first year of marriage!) to get coffee; and taking the grand tour of the entire campus. Including the house I lived in for two years, the residence hall I lived in my freshman year and Mike lived in for two years, and the place Mike and I first met.

Our first apartment together was here.

Who would have guessed six-and-a-half years ago that I'd be married to the 'cute new campus minister who plays guitar' and changing our baby's diaper in exact spot we first met? So fun. And crazy. And awesome.

Keepin' it real.

September 11, 2004 - I walked down these steps and saw Mike. :)

We grabbed some more coffee, and went to our favorite local grocery store (we have a lot of favorite food places. We are food people.) and got the fixings for a picnic. We walked a mile to a park and enjoyed a sunny meal.

Wheee!

 We went back to campus and ran into old friends and new ones, and chatted for a long while.

We ended the day by going to Mass at the best church ever, ever. The priest was my freshman year religion professor, and is the most dynamic, warm, pastoral individual I have ever met. It's the church I feel most 'home' at, and I haven't found a place that fits me spiritually since.

When the priest saw us after Mass, we got the most enthusiastic, unbridled-joy greeting we've ever received. He grabbed us in a vigorous hug, kissed Gabe repeatedly (“You have a BABY!” he exclaimed excitedly), and proudly told another parishioner, “She was the best student in my Intro to Religion class!” (SEVEN years ago. Best memory ever, right?) Before we left to drive home, he grabbed me tight for another hug and ordered us to keep in touch.

I feel so at home there. I wish that everyone could experience that sort of feeling. I absolutely adored my college experience, and adored my school.

I imagine most people have a place they are ridiculously nostalgic for, and I am lucky enough I got to spend my first mother's day with Gabe at mine.

We might not get to be the same sort of spontaneous that we were pre-Gabe, but we can still be spontaneous. And coming home? It's funny how two days away seems like a week with a baby. I happily settled into our bedtime routine: rocking Gabe, while nursing him and listening to lullabies.

Feeling Pretty and Such. [Ten on Tuesday]

I haven’t participated in this sort of thing in the past, but I absolutely loved today’s Ten on Tuesday questions. Friendship, adolescence, girlhood, and crazy roommates. I love chatting about these things and they are such big players in how we identify as women – so here I am! Doing my first Ten on Tuesday! Hurrah!

1. How many blogs do you read every day and what are they? (I’m talking the ones you NEVER miss)

I read lots of blogs, but don’t comment as often. I recently started using my Google Reader again, after a year-ish of not using it. Since I’m not on Twitter as much, but still want to keep up with the blogs I read (side note: when will the word ‘blog’ stop seeming like a silly, cartoon-ish word?), so I went in and did some subscribing and unsubscribing and organizing.

I made four groups of blogs – one of ‘inspirational’ blogs, one for ‘besties,’ and then two more groups of first and second tier blogs. I *always* check the besties daily. There are twenty four blogs in this group, but usually only a few of them post each day. I tend to not have blogs that post daily in this category, since they accumulate so fast. I’m totally not going to name them, because I know I feel sort of left out when I see those sorts of lists, and I don’t want you to. You know, just in case you’re ridiculously sensitive like I am.

2. How many “best friends” do you have? Do you have different “besties” for different areas of your life?

Oh, I don’t know. I don’t have tons and tons of friends, so I consider the ones I do have all besties, I suppose. I have a few from high school, a few from college, and a few from post-college. Plus, my sisters. They really are some of my best friends. They are just such fun, know me, and have shared life experiences with me. I think moving overseas where I knew not a soul apart from my family really forced us to grow closer. Plus, they are just awesome.

My best best friend is (warning: cliché ahead!) definitely Mike, since we do just about everything together, we share everything, and see eye-to-eye on most things. And he makes me laugh almost daily.

3. What’s your daily makeup routine?

I usually only wear makeup when I’m going to work, and it always involves concealer, blush, eyelash curling, mascara, and black eyeliner. If I’m feeling especially tired or blotchy, I’ll throw on some primer and tinted moisturizer. I do my makeup while pumping. Multi-tasking at its finest! Pre-Gabe, I didn’t have to wear makeup daily, but motherhood? Makes you look tired, yo. Hence the need for industrial strength concealer.

4. What is your ideal girl’s night?

I am pretty much a homebody, so I’d opt for a girls’ night in. The Wii (Mario Party, Mario Kart, or WiiFit Plus), pizza, cheesy popcorn, some fruity drinks, and cookie dough. Junk food and video games, with lots of reminiscing and chatting.

Or, going out to dinner in cute clothes. I just love food. So, food and friends? Bliss. Since Mike is my best bestie, I miss girl time if I go too long without chatting with lady friends.

5. Do you keep up with your nails/toenails or are they au natural?

I go through phases. My toenails are typically painted, but often chipped. I never, ever painted my fingernails until the past few months, but it’s been sort of fun to steal my teenage sister’s nail polish. I love, love, love pedicures, but I don’t often get them (as in, three times in the US, ever). (Thailand and Malaysia? A different story. A cheaper story.)

6. What’s your best roommate story (assuming you had a roommate at some point in your life)?

Oh, roommates.

I had seventeen in the course of four years of college. 17. Seven. Teen. My best/worst story happened during the semester I spent in Hawaii. I lived in an apartment with three other girls, and one of them got married. At the age of 19. To a guy she’d known for five months. And they both lived with us, while he was getting a raise for being married (military dude) and paying us nada and using our towels and not sharing ice cream (just a bite! We’re paying for your rent!) Then they got a puppy. A puppy and five people in a tiny, tiny apartment. A puppy that ruined my brand new iPod earbuds. A puppy that peed on our carpet.

I’m painfully anti-confrontational, so I just quietly fumed about it. Thankfully, another roommate told them they had two weeks to move themselves and their un-potty-trained little puppy out of our apartment.

And so they did.

After that, I figured I could handle any awful roommate situation that came my way, but thankfully, I had pretty fabulous roommates for most of college. (143 Evanston, WHAT.)

7. What’s your “go to” outfit that you wear more than anything else?

Gap dark wash Always Skinny jeans (the only pair of jeans I own, actually), flats or my brown flat boots, and a high collared shirt with a pretty pattern (or a t-shirt and cardigan with a long locket or fun scarf. I’m big on scarves.). My ‘nice’ go to outfit is a dress with a wide belt and black heels. My home outfit is yoga pants with a nursing tank.

8. Do you have a beauty secret?

If I’m being introspective and too serious: Being happy with myself, both my life and my appearance, knowing that seeking validation from others to feel interesting or attractive ultimately fails to fulfill me. Inner beauty and all that.

More practically: If I eat well and exercise, I feel better and probably look better. I also use an olive and castor oil mixture to wash my face, and it leaves it soft and it seems I’m less prone to breakouts.

9. Did you read Seventeen magazine growing up?

Well, sort of.

See, my mom actually forbade me from reading beauty magazines, saying they would lead to me feeling badly about myself. It was probably the best parenting move she ever made – not because I never read those sort of magazines or because everyone who subscribes to those magazines end up with body image disorders and unrealistic expectations. It’s just know that for me, personally, I already tend to compare myself too much to others, so it probably saved me from having any sort of eating disorder or fixation on my body and its flaws.

Even as an adult, I’ve tended to stay away from glossy beauty magazines (even magazines that tout themselves as ‘fitness’ mags), just because I’ve noticed it subconsciously makes me feel inferior and acutely aware my imperfections. These magazines make me feel like my ultimate goal is to please men, to look good, and to wear nice clothes. Not to be a strong, confident woman.

Orrr, perhaps I just take things too seriously.

All I know is that as much as I hope to have a daughter some day, I’m really, really terrified of raising a girl in this princess-y world we live in.

10. How did you learn to put on makeup?

I was in seventh grade and all of my friends were getting makeup, so I asked if I could start wearing it. My mom gave me permission when I turned 13, and my friends and younger sister showed me the way of makeup. Except, not really. I never felt (and don’t feel) that confident in my makeup skills, so I just avoided it for most of high school and college. I’ve never been the makeup junkie that many girls are, but in the past few years have started to enjoy a good Sephora trip once a year to get some overpriced pretty things that make me feel good.

But still? I don’t feel like I’m a makeup pro - or even that competent. Eye shadow completely flabbergasts me. Smoky eye? Can’t I just cake some black eyeliner for a nighttime look?

On Working at a High School.

In the four years since graduating college, I’ve worked at an afterschool center/elementary school, a university, and two different high schools (aaand Starbucks for three months). The upside to this is that I’ve had a wide variety of work place experiences and job descriptions. Variety is the spice of life and all that. Most importantly, I’ve learned some things about myself and my job preferences. Things like:

-          I need sunshine in my workplace.

-          I can’t be on a computer all day. Human interaction is a must.

-          I need my job to challenge me, but also allow for plenty of laughter and downtime.

-          I need to work somewhere that my values are honored and upheld.

-          I absolutely love working at a high school.  LOVE.

When I was applying to my first job at a high school two years ago, they asked me if I liked working with teenagers. The truth was: I wasn’t sure. My only experience with high schoolers was being one and having younger siblings (who currently 16- and 18-years-old).  Sometimes teenage girls can be rather…intense (see also: dramatic, moody, and stompy-offish). In course of answering the question about working teenagers, though, I realized that what I loved most about teenagers was, in fact, this intensity. When they’re happy, they’re REALLY happy – shrieking, laughing, singing, and loud. When they’re upset, they’re REALLY upset – crying, yelling, and slamming doors. They are absolutely, unabashedly passionate in everything they do. They don’t hold back. They are full of life.

That vibrancy absolutely attracts me to working with teenagers. It can be tiring, but it’s also never, ever boring. There is so much joy and laughter in my office that I cannot fathom working in some quiet cubicle.

Plus, they’re just plain fun and silly.

They make up songs about me (with things like "She has the spirit Aslan" and "She likes to eat tofu and Indian noodles with her poodle.”)

They introduced me to the addiction that is Rebecca Black.

They have honest and open conversations about everything in life – from their fears about college to their political opinions to their relationships. We close ourselves off as adults, not openly discussing these things as readily.

They celebrated Justin Beiber’s birthday with a party.

They constantly try to friend me on Facebook, despite the school’s (and my own) policy of waiting until they graduate.

They call me “Ash” or “Miss Ashley.”

The many, many offers to babysit. For free. One even told me she’d pay me to babysit. Just lovely.

They tell me about their addiction to Extreme Couponing and that they want to start a 'Couponing Club' where we'd all sit around cutting out coupons. “We have to train ourselves. We need to be disciplined about this. We have to be extreme!”

They know the words to Spice Girls’ songs and can recite lines from 10 Things I Hate About You. Aka: I don’t feel old when they’re into the things I was in high school. (My favorite ever in the world is when they are jealous that I’ve been to three *Nsync concerts. Ha! See? I am cool! I am hip! I am  also so old that these kids weren’t even in elementary school when *Nsync was together!) (Also, *Nsync is not a recognized dictionary word. Psh.)

They make me feel interesting. They ask me about college, living overseas, having a baby, cloth diapers, vegetarianism, marriage, and my family.

They say things like, “My boyfriend is really interested in water birth. He wants me to have our kids without pain medication.” I’m sorry, what? 1) Your boyfriend is thinking about birth? and 2) ‘Your’ kids? You guys are 17!

It’s been a good (albeit hard for some really sad, tragic reasons) week at school, and I’m just buzzing from the happiness that comes with enjoying your day job (and the happiness that comes from having to be at said day job only three days a week).

I don’t say this enough: I am so, so lucky to have both a part-time day job and a part-time creative job that I adore. Not to mention being a full-time mama to the sweetest baby on this planet.

I’m curious: what do you do? Do you love your job? If not, what makes you stay there?

Scenes from a Quiet Weekend.

. . .

I hear Gabe stirring, but ignore him because I am so tired that I'm certain my eyelids are too heavy to open.
I hear Mike talk to him, and Gabe lets out a delighted squeal. 
Mike gets out of bed; he comes back and he talks to Gabe as he changes his diaper. Gabe responds happily with gurgles and giggles.
I bury my head deeper in my wonderful, soft pillow, hoping to avoid waking completely. Trying to cling on to this lovely, sleepy place.

. . .

I set Gabe down on the carpet in the living room to pour myself some Cheerios and a cup of coffee in kitchen.
I take two steps and he is whining.
I groan, but then catch myself and remember how quickly he will grow out of this stage. How quickly he will no longer be a little baby who wants nothing more than to be held by his mama.
I scoop him up and plop him on my hip. I get my breakfast one-handed.

. . .

Gabe sits on the carpet while I work.
His toys bore him, or more likely, he's thrown them all out of his reach.
He whines, so I turn around and make some silly faces.
He smiles.
I turn back around and continue working.
He whines.
A game of peekaboo commences.

. . .


 

. . .

We sit in Gabe's quiet, dark room. The ocean waves are crashing on his sound machine.
I nurse Gabe, then rock him, cradling his little body close to mine.
He buries his head in my arm and relaxes.
We rock back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.
I play Words with Friends on my iPod while the seahorse plays its lullabies.
I remind myself to recharge the seahorse's batteries. It sounds like a dying cat, but Gabe doesn't seem to notice. His eyes are closed and his long eyelashes kiss his round cheeks.
I place Gabe in his crib and sneak out of his room.

. . .

I design. And design. And design some more.
I return client emails. I find new color combinations. I download some brushes for inspiration.
"I've been so productive today!" I say.
"I so have not!" he says.

. . . 

Mike and I have a date with Jillian Michaels.
He makes me laugh while we do jumping jacks, crunches, and push ups.
He kicks my butt, literally, during butt kicks. How predictable.
We give each other a sweaty high-five for completing day eight of the 30 Day Shred.

. . .

 

. . . 

The afternoon is amazing.
The weather is so delicious I want to eat it with a spoon.
I want to stay outside forever.
I want to marry spring and have its babies.
Instead, we walk. And walk. And walk.
And walk some more.
We talk about our summer. About our hopes. About our summer goals. About where we want to go and what we want to read. About sno-cones and street fairs.
"What's your summer mission statement?"
Surprisingly, he doesn't laugh at the question.
He must know he's married a dork.

. . .


Gabe is awake from a nap, crying.
I walk into his room and he stops crying when he hears my voice.
His face lights up and I lift him out of his crib, squeezing him close to me.
I kiss his tiny little lips, my favorite.
Even two hours away from me makes me miss him.
It's so silly and, yet, so true.

. . .

We make taco bowls for lunch.  
Gabe eats a grain of rice at a time, or the tiniest forkful of refried beans.
He leans forward with an open mouth like a baby bird.

. . .

 . . .

He sits on the couch next to me and wraps his arms around me.
I hug him back and rest my head on his shoulder.
Gabe looks at us and start whining.
"Aw, Gabe. Do you want a hug, too?"
We go over together, each pick him up by one arm and carry him back to the couch.
We hug. All three of us. Corny and silly and lovely.
Gabe whines again and twists away.

. . .

He's fussing.
"Milk? You want milk? Are you hungry?"
He nurses lazily, rubbing his feet together, running his hand up and down my arm.
I can't tell if he's hungry or just wants to cuddle.
I always indulge him.

. . .

We get take out from a restaurant in our neighborhood. Veggie burgers and sweet potato fries.
After Gabe is asleep, we eat our dinner on the couch with lots ketchup and watch a movie on Netflix.
I type away on my laptop and Mike reads the news on his.

. . . 

. . .

I realize my quiet life is rather wonderful and don't want to forget this.

Why I'm a Morning Person.

Because the world is quiet in the morning. Though hard to peel myself away from my pillow, the pre-dawn hour is full of peace. Being awake and alone before anyone else nourishes my soul and calms me before the day starts.

Because the day feels pregnant with possibility and options - it can be a great day! Full of productivity and working towards my dreams! It can be a day where I finally take the boxes of clothes to donate! (You don't know. I might just organize all. day. long.)

Because I can listen to this song on repeat, dancing around the living room with Gabe.

Because coffee is my favorite beverage.

Because seeing the sun rise feels like a special present from God.

Because I am full of hope in the morning. It's strange how I feel energized and able-to-conquer-the-world I feel in the morning. (It could also be the caffeine. Yay.)

Because breakfast is my favorite meal. (Specifically: french toast. Or waffles and veggie sausage. And always home fries. Always. With lots of ketchup.)

Because it's a fresh start. It's a new chance to be who I want to be.

Because my beautiful baby boy greets me every morning with laughter.  Waking up is a little bit less painful when I have a sweet little baby cuddling next to me, grinning at me eagerly. I wish that everyone could start the day experiencing such joy.

Are you a morning person? A night owl? Or do you just like to sleep all the time? (Lucky.)

Answering More Questions: On Mike, Marriage, and Maternity Leave.

Are you related to Danielle Bean?

(Danielle Bean is a superstar in the world of Catholic blogging and publishing.) Nope. She’s short and brunette like me, but we’re not related! I am ridiculously flattered whenever she shares one of my posts, though.

Did you ever think when you were younger that you wouldn't get married? [cause guys were stupid, or just always wanted to be friends, or you were just kinda...in a sad mood?]

Oh, sweetie. I just want to hug you. If you are younger than 21, I’ll be honest and say that you probably don’t need to worry about guys too much right now. Of course, I’ve never been much of a casual dater (I always would rather spend time with my friends unless it was a relationship that was actually going to go somewhere, but maybe I’m odd that way), so you might feel differently. It often takes longer for guys to mature (Mike was 24 and I almost 20 when we met). Not all guys are stupid, and not all guys will want to just be friends. Keep your chin up and don’t get too disheartened; it just takes one guy. Just one.

To answer your question: When I was in my late teens, I went through a period where I didn’t think I wanted to get married and have a family, and in fact, never dreamed of my wedding and marriage the way some girls do. I simply didn’t really think about marriage (I banned the ‘m-word’ from our dorm room sophomore year of college) until I met Mike, and things clicked perfectly (clichés ahoy!) and I wanted to just be with him all the time, forever. Possibly because I didn’t have many boyfriends before him (um, one), but I was completely swept away by how strong my feelings were for him, how much I adored him, and how special he made me feel. I had made lists of what I’d want in my future husband, but when Mike came along; I realized he was more perfect for me than I could have even imagined a future husband to be. We’ve both changed so much from who we were when we first met, but we’ve, thankfully and amazingly, changed in similar ways. That’s not to say, of course, that things are perfect and wonderful all the time. A relationship changes and grows and gets less fluttery over time. But those flutters turn into a comfortable, cozy love that involves yoga pants, Psych on Netflix, and frozen pizza. There are disagreements and arguments and stubbornness, but there is also silliness and laughter and bear hugs. Marriage is one of the hardest things I’ve ever entered into, but also the most wonderful.

Why don't you post more about Mike? Give us an update on his schooling, hobbies, and how he is as a dad :)

Simply put, because this isn’t his blog and I feel like it’s inconsiderate to talk about him without his permission. Does that make sense? He didn’t choose to have a blog where he talks openly about his life to anyone and everyone. In fact, for a long time, he didn’t get blogging (and didn’t like that I did it!), but after meeting some of the people I’ve become friends with through blogging, I think he appreciates it more.

However! Since you asked, he is in his first year of a PhD program in counseling psychology and absolutely loves it. I’ve never see him so passionate, work so hard, or get so excited about the direction of his life. I am so proud of him and in awe of his newfound fire for justice issues. He’s always pushed me to be a better person, but he continues to educate himself and push himself even further. We’re both learning so much, even though sometimes I’d rather watch Rent than a film on Tolstoy’s life (which was, much to my surprise, enthralling and well-done). His hobbies are bicycling (he built a fixed gear bike), gardening, running (he has the longest legs ever), music (have I mentioned he proposed with a song he wrote? And our wedding favors were CDs of his music?), and most recently, reading, reading, and more reading.

I’ve talked in the early days about how wonderful of father Mike is, but I think what strikes me most of all is the absolute giddiness, deep affection, and absolute adoration of Gabe. He is just in love with Gabe. Words don’t really do justice to explain how awesome it is to see their relationship develop. Gabe lights up when Mike talks to him, laughing often. Mike is waaay funnier than I am, anyway.

What is the joyequation that you spoke about? Do you think that it is worthwhile?

The Joy Equation is a 30 day course for surviving the quarterlife crisis. It dubs itself “A 30 Day Guide to Living Life on Purpose” and aims to you “How to Tackle the Quarterlife Life Crisis, Gain Confidence in Yourself, and Love Your Life.” It’s a combination of journal prompts and audio sessions with a workbook, all aimed to help you determine what makes you happy.

The actual equation outlines the activities for each week and is:

CONNECT WITH YOURSELF + DEFINE SUCCESS + CULTIVATE POWERFUL HABITS + COMMIT TO YOUR HAPPINESS = AUTHENTIC JOY

Since I have a small baby and work two part-time jobs (both out of the home and my design business), it’s taking me longer than 30 days to complete. I find it incredibly worthwhile, though, and have really enjoyed the time focusing on myself and my joys, particularly at this point in my life. It’s a very well-done program, and the creator, Molly, is a true doll. I recommend to anyone (particularly women) who aren’t satisfied in their current career, are looking for more contentment, or just dream of a bigger things.

do you ever eat meat? even a bite?

Not unless it’s an accident. I’ve been a vegetarian for six years now, and the last time I ate just a bite of meat was a bite of pepperoni three years ago. Hehe. We were doing a wine tasting and the wine made me think pepperoni was more delicious than it is, so I took a bite. Mike has teased me about it ever since. Though, we do eat fish once or twice a year if someone prepares it for us. I consider fish meat, though many do not.

is the 3 month mat leave typical in the USA?

The Family Medical Leave Act gives some (not all) employees up to unpaid (!) 12 weeks of maternity leave – not quite three months. Many, many moms go back after just 6 weeks, which I simply cannot fathom. I started working at Starbucks 15-20 hours a week when Gabe was two months old, but the schedule was such that I hardly missed out on any time with him. Maternity leave in this country is absolutely atrocious, and we deserve much better.

how far does Mike have to drive everyday to school/work?

His school is his work, and we live about two miles from it. It involves several gigantic hills, but he rode his bike when it was nicer out. He’s also taken the bus to school (twice with Gabe!), but generally just drives.

if you could buy a new car tomorrow, what would it be?

Prius. The gas mileage makes me salivate. (Mike wants to buy an old Volvo and fuel it with biodiesel.) Our Honda Accord gets about half the gas mileage as a Prius. Womp womp.

Got a question for me? Ask away!

A Letter to Myself, Revisited.

Six months ago, I wrote a letter to myself. Six months later, I'm going revisit that letter and grade myself on how I am keeping my advice to myself. 

(This feels terrible navel-gazing-ish. More so than usual. But, a few people mentioned they'd like to read an update on that whole parenthood thing and the letter. And so, here I am. Looking at my belly button.)

Spend time with Mike: A-

Well, we spend LOTS and LOTS of time together, since we're so, so blessed to both work outside of the home for only 20 hours a week. (His assistantship is teaching, so he gets to work from home quite a bit.) For the first three months, we spent almost all of our time with Gabe. Now that he has a (fairly) strict 7 pm bedtime and several long naps a day, we have afternoons and evenings to ourselves to hang out, chat, eat popcorn, watch movies, and snuggle. It's wonderful. Of course, we often spend these evenings doing our own thing - me on my computer designing and wasting my time doing important things on the internet while Mike does schoolwork. We've done a good job of not only talking about Gabe during our alone time, but our conversations are always peppered with a good bit of non sequitur gushing about how darn cute he is. We will be talking about foreign policy or religion or crazy customers at Starbucks, and sigh out of nowhere, "Gabe is so freaking cute!" We discuss Gabe's personality and our parenting philosophies. I show him photos I'm editing of Gabe and Mike imitates Gabe's funny movements (lately, shoving his hands in our mouth).  We are a couple that cares about other Important Things, but we are also parents that absolutely, deeply, and unwaveringly adore our son. 

Though we have less time that we spend alone as a couple, Gabe feels like an extension of us (which he totally is, I suppose) and I actually love being all together and don't crave date nights alone (yet!). 

Don’t worry so much: B

During pregnancy, I tended to worry less instead of worry more. I didn't want to be the pregnant lady who went to the hospital twelve times in false labor while nurses rolled their eyes. Even though there is an emphasis on all that can be WRONG (with good reason, it's important to catch the True Bad Things early), I knew that odds were I wasn't going to experience the Bad Things, so I didn't worry. (Except, oh, that time there was the possibility Gabe the Fetus had Down syndrome. Yeah, I worried. A lot.) 

Parenting has been largely the same, but lately, I've felt that annoying sense of worry creep up. Should he be sleeping longer at night? Will breaking him of his swaddling habit be torturous? Is it okay that he's doing X? Not doing Y? Normal parent stuff, I'm sure. But, still, I hate worrying. Down with the worrying! (I've also had to ban myself from reading about sick or dying babies. It's just bad for my soul. Why didn't anyone tell me being a parent was this vulnerable?)

Talk about things other than your baby: B-

Something as monumental and life-changing as becoming a parent obviously changes things. I underestimated (here's where all the moms in the audience nod and a knowing smile spreads across their face) the extent to which I would want to talk about being a parent with others. To process it. To learn about myself and my child and my husband from it. Although I often talk about other, non-Gabe things to Mike and my co-workers, I know I am all Gabe/pregnancy/babies/parenting, all the time for many people. Namely, the Internets. 

(Hi, Internet. I do care about other stuff. I promise I'll talk about it soon. Like, when Gabe is three.)

Learn about things other than your baby: B+

So, we've watched approximately 3 million documentaries since Gabe was born. Or, okay, maybe two dozen. Either way, I'm a learning machine. I still listen to some podcasts, but not nearly the rate I was before, with two hours of driving a day. *shudder*  I'm not really reading as much as I'd like to...or at all, really. Aside from silly parenting magazines and far too many tweets. Let's work on that, self.

Record it all, but don’t spend so much time capturing that you forget to experience it: A

I find myself torn when Gabe is being absolutely adorable (all the time, natch) - I want to soak it all up and remember everything. I want to remember the way his eyelashes stick together and the water beads on his red little cheeks after he gets out of the bath. I want to remember how he giggles excitedly to himself before he starts to eat. I want to remember his little shark wiggle when he latches on. I want to remember the way he looks in his little puffy vest. I want to remember the way it feels when his soft, chubby little fingers wrap around mine. I want to remember how he laughs when I pretend to eat those little fingers.

I want to remember it all. And I get a bit weepy when I start to think about him not being so, well, little. Sometimes, I grab my camera or my phone and snap a photo, hoping that will etch it in my memory forever. Mostly, though, I try to just savor it.

(I know I spend too much time on my iPod while I'm rocking him to sleep; hanging out on my computer while he's playing. I don't want to forget anything and I don't want to regret anything.)

Spend time with you: A-

Yeah. Not so much with the time alone, but I'm definitely spending time doing what I want to do. (Like, this. Hi, blog. I love you.) I've gone out to lunch with friends alone a few times, I'm taking on all kinds of design jobs (new website!), I'm currently completing the Joy Equation, and I've signed up for Indie Business 3.0, which starts next month. These are all about me as a person, not just me as a mother (though, the two are beautifully, inextricably intertwined, of course). 

I'm happy to find that I still am me, despite how much my world has been shaken and I have been changed by the arrival of this tiny little person we call Gabe.

Etsy, Starbucks, and a Shiny New Job!

Well. It's been an unexpectedly interesting few days around here. I interviewed, got, and negotiated a higher pay for a new part-time job and gave my two-weeks notice at Starbucks in the last 48 hours. It's a perfect job for me right now: double the pay, 20 hours a week, flexible scheduling, and weekends, holidays, and summers off.  Plus, it's at a high school, so it lines up nicely with my experience thus far.

I'm sad to leave my fun coworkers and endless supply of delicious beverages, but I am excited for this new adventure! It's really an amazing find - in my 'field,' fits around my schedule, and only 20 hours a week. I'll still have time to pursue my creative endeavors - which are keeping me fairly busy right now. I'm designing four blogs, two wedding invitations, two custom greeting card orders, and have booked my first photography gig, a trash the dress session! I'm so, so excited, you guys.

Since I had a little job update, I figured I'd answer some of the job-related questions I got from this post.

I want to know more about your Starbucks job and how you like working and being a full time mommy too. I bring my 3 month old to work with me so most days I think I have the best of both worlds but some days are harder than others.

Starbucks isn't a bad job for a mom, since I can plan my schedule around Mike's availability - which makes child care an non-issue. I have a lot to say about the job itself - the good, bad, and the ridiculous. That will be a post on its own. Bottom line: It's a fun job and involves a lot of caffeine. But also, some demanding customers. Being a part-time working mom is a great balance for me. I have something to do and contribute to outside of motherhood, but still spend most of my time with Gabe. I absolutely love it.

tell the truth: with all the talk about budgets and frugal living and working for little pay at starbucks, i'd be curious to know if you guys are getting financial help from your parents.

At first, I was quite offended by this question. Mike and I worked so hard to save money last year, and make a lot of sacrifices to be able to work less now that we have Gabe. I don't just talk about living simply on my blog because it upholds some sort of image I want to project. Living simply is far from glamourous, actually. It involves more cooking and less eating out; more staying home and less meeting friends for dinner. We have one car. We don't have cable. Or even Netflix (except this free trial. Woo!) We don't have smartphones. We can't purchase many non-essential items at Target anymore. We can't buy Gabe every cute toy and outfit we'd like. We end up eating beans and rice at the end of the month.

I don't say all of this because I want sympathy or to feel proud of what we've given up. It's just that I'd hate for anyone to get the impression that I'm touting living with less as some sort of fun and exciting fad. Though, for all that we can't do, there is so much that we can. And that is why, for us, we'd rather work less and live more.

We haven't asked for any help from our parents at all, to answer your question. Though, we certainly wouldn't be in this position without our parents' generosity - we both were able to go to college with help from our parents, and my parents provide our (free!) childcare when we need it. Not to mention the wonderful gifts we recieved from them this year. We are blessed with wonderful parents, but parents who know that we are responsible with money and are financially independent adults.

For how long do you plan to work at Starbucks - a year, two years, three years?

I had no plan, which tends to be the way I navigate my life. When I first took the job, I wasn't sure if I'd be there for a month or several years - my career has been fluid and changing as opportunities come along. I wasn't looking for another job, but something came along!

Do you make enough money doing etsy transactions to make it worth your while? I'm a mom of two (the youngest is exactly Gabe's age I think!) and am thinking of starting an etsy shop. I knit and craft banners and things but am wondering if it's realistic

A great question! I opened my Etsy shop since November of 2008, and it's been such a joy to create for it. I've enjoyed a fairly steady stream of business, but it's definitely on a small scale and I probably am guilty of underpricing my goods. For me, I enjoy it enough to keep it open, despite the fact that I don't earn a viable income from it. I love how I can explore my ideas and create new products to sell, especially because most of the products I designed. (Like my thank you cards, hobo bag, makeup pouches, coffee sleeves, and coasters - they were all created because I wanted them for myself!) I've mentioned before that I'm always busy with a million different creative pursuits, so my little shop might be abandoned some day in favor of more time to photograph or design, but for now? I'll happily sew and make jewelry for my little audience. (If you want to discuss exact numbers, I'd be happy to talk to you via email! Etsy also has lots of great resources for getting started. Go for it!) 

I Love...

The way cream swirls and disperses when it's poured into coffee. The sugary crumbs at the end of a box of cereal. Sneaking bits of freshly baked cookies...and cookie dough. The smell of coffee as it's grinding. Throwing handfuls of chocolate chips in everything from oatmeal to hot cocoa. The caramelly color of freshly pulled espresso shots.  Freshly toasted almonds. The first sip of coffee in the morning. Pretzel buns. Tofu cooked so well it's crunchy.

Gabe's first smiles in the morning, those "YAY! It's you guys again!" smiles. The dimples in his knees. His gummy, friendly smile. The way sometimes all he needs is to be picked up and hugged. His little bellows when he's upset. His pudgy little wrists. The way he grabs me with both hands when he's nursing. The way the older women in our building fawn over him. The dimple in his chin when he's crying. Eyelashes so long they brush my cheek when I'm holding him. How his little body gets limp as I'm rocking him to sleep. The way he stops in the middle of eating to glance up at me and grin. How words fail me when I think about how much I adore my baby.

Sunrises on the beach. Slipping into my yoga pants as soon as I walk in the door. Waking up before the rest of the world. Taking my contacts out the end of the day. Etsy sales. Cuddling in bed with my baby. Sitting cross-legged in sweatpants, huddled under a fleece blanket, playing Mario Party with my sisters in my parents' basement. Heartfelt comments on my blog posts. Curling my hair with my straightening iron. Emails from old friends. Mascaraed eyelashes. Songs that make my heart soar, like this one. Watching the snow fall quietly, beautifully in the morning.

Love notes in the morning. Coming home to a clean apartment. A scruffy beard after a relaxed weekend at home. Waiting for him to come home at the end of a long day. Catching up on our shows while we eat dinner on the couch. Working out together while Gabe plays happily on the floor of the exercise room. Hoodies with the hoods pulled up. Bear hugs. Lazy mornings spent drinking coffee. When he climbs into bed and says, "I read your blog today." The way he laughs when I try to swear. Forehead kisses. Tea, popcorn, and documentaries. Passionate conversations about Important Issues and the World. Our quiet, cozy life.

So Many Doors.

Persistence is not about knocking on one door until the dang thing finally opens.

It's about knocking on all of them.

[+]

I have written about my vocational path about eleventy billion other times. Brief history: lots of turmoil and confusion. I've wondered whether a full-time job is slavery, like the homeless man's van claimed. I've announced I wanted to be a freelance graphic designer Then freaked out and worried I couldn't do it. I dreamed of a life where I could balance work and kids. And got mad when that wasn't my reality. I found a decently paying salaried job that I adored and figured I could be flexible with my hopes of working for myself. I felt the need to validate my choices. And, recently, I left that wonderful job to stay-at-home with Gabe and work part-time at Starbucks.

When asked what my future plans were for a post-volunteer questionnaire a few years ago,  I replied:

"I have too many career goals for one lifetime - including freelance graphic designer, independent craft artist, campus minister/exploring social justice with students, teaching computer technology and graphic design at a high school, opening a coffee shop, and being a mother. Only slightly ambitious."

(Eh, I work at a coffee shop now, so I'm going to count that. I wouldn't actually want to run one. What was I thinking?)

Sometimes, I feel like I'm a Jill of all trades, master of none. I have so many interests. So many passions. SO many hobbies. I design blogs. I sell things in my Etsy shop. I photograph like crazy. I dream of writing a blog column (for pay! fancy that!). I worry that I need to narrow my focus; that I will never achieve much in any of these areas until I decide just which of my many interests I want to pursue with the dedication I know I posses. I know I will be successful. I know I will be awesome. I know I can do it.

For now, though, I'm not sure exactly what it is. Along with starting The Joy Equation next month, I'm going to continue running like crazy in many directions. I adore sewing. I find my bliss in layout and design. I am elated when I capture an image that portrays beauty. I live for connecting to others through writing. And, so; I will continue to sew. I will continue to design. I will continue to write. And, next week, I have an interview as an assistant wedding photographer. It'd be a huge leap, to be sure, so I don't have my hopes too high. I imagine how much I'd learn. How it might start my own career as a photographer...

I'm getting ahead of myself.

But a girl can dream, right?

2010: A Year in Review.

2010. On one hand, it was a pretty simple year: I found out I was pregnant at the end of 2009, and spent the entire year being pregnant, giving birth, and enjoying our new son. On the other hand, holy wow. It was a crazy year of changes and new beginnings. Like I did last year, I wanted to take some time and look back on one of the best years of my life.

My first post of 2010 was about how much I can't stand winter. It was quite a cheerful post. I set some goals for 2010, although I'm not sure why I said I wanted to run a race, since I knew I was pregnant. That was silly.  I called out lurkers and kept the introduction post as a permanent feature for new readers. We traveled to Ithaca, New York to see our dear friends Tim and Ellen get married. Such fun.  I spent some time thinking about my career this month - talking about how my childhood 'career' was babysitting, how I wanted to work from home, and where my interests intersected with things I could get paid to do.  Not much overlap, apparently. I also confessed that I have about 12 TV shows that I watch regularly. It's a problem. Not blogged about was insane amounts of nausea thanks to little fetus Gabe and telling my boss, parents, and Mike's parents about little fetus Gabe. I also did a ton of research and decided upon the midwives and hospital birthing center that would be a part of Gabe's entrance to the world.

Even though I found out in December that I was with child, I didn't  tell the internets (or most people, actually) until I was 12 weeks pregnant and gushed with some details. Since I knew I was pregnant, I really buckled down on our budgeting and saving, and finished up four months of not buying new clothes and ruminated on what I learned about my own materialism. I also shared how sometimes I struggle with how simply we live. (And still do). I started a Web Publishing class this month, which took a lot of time, but I learned a LOT.  I spent too much time worrying about my pregnancy (and losing the baby) during this month, and was relieved to find out that the baby was healthy at my second midwife appointment. I was still quite nauseated, as is evidenced by the fact that I took exactly one photo in February: a picture of a pregnancy test.

The girls at the high school I worked out found out I was pregnant during a retreat, since I started to show a bit this month. I was still in an awkward place, clothes-wise and sort of hated it. (I'm there again, 4 months post-partum. Yay.) My midwife was unexpectedly laid off and I confessed that Gabe was a pleasant surprise, but not quite at the 'right time.' I wrote about how we told my parents that I was pregnant, and began doing weekly updates on my fetus. I spent a lot of time with insomina and eating sugary cereals (my pregnancy treat of choice), which is always a good time.

Uh, the pregnancy sort of took over my blog this month. I did pregnancy updates for weeks 18, 19, 20, 21, and 22. We had our Big Ultrasound this month, which revealed that the baby in my belly was of the male variety. I was admittedly a bit disappointed, but now I can't imagine not having my sweet little Gabe. More terrifyingly, though, the ultrasound showed a light spot on the baby's heart, which was a soft marker for Down Syndrome. I was sort of scared out of my mind and called my mom sobbing. We had a scary genetic counseling appointment and a follow-up ultrasound, where Down Syndrome was ruled out. In happier news, I had Easter break and it was wonderful.

As my belly got bigger, the comments about it got stranger. I had my first baby shower with work friends and the reality of parenthood also become more real and I fretted about being judged. I met up with four other wonderful bloggers in Indianapolis for a weekend o' food and fun. Oh, what a  wonderful trip it was. My heart soared. I was still pregnant, so, of course, I wrote about it. Specifically, weeks 23 and 24 and weeks 25 and 26. Mike ran a marathon and I watched. It was hard work on my part, and I ended up with a sunburn.

We went to the beach again with Mike's family, which was full of walks and swimming and reading and sunning. Relaxation. Mmm. I can't imagine what next year's trip will be like! I was 27 and 20 weeks pregnant, then 28 and 29 weeks pregnant. This was the month of apartment hunting, which was excruciatingly difficult and why I hardly updated. We finally decided to move out of Cleveland and close to Mike's school (and my parents). We settled on a perfect apartment and absolutely love it here. I took a break from the craziness to read Allie Larkin's fabulous book, Stay.

I told you that I was anxious about childbirth (oh the hours I spent worrying about it!) and especially because I hoped to have a birth naturally. The comments from that post were printed and read, because they seriously gave me courage and calm. Sometimes, this whole blogging thing is sort of amazing. Thank you. I did a few more pregnancy updates, weeks 31, 32, 33, and 34. Mike and I savored our last months of being alone, I answered some questions about the baby and our choices, and I talked about how we wanted to get by with having very little for our baby.

Weeks 35 and 36 were the turning point in my pregnancy, the point at which it became pretty darn uncomfortable. Weeks 37 and 38 were even worse. I wrote a letter to my future baby, telling him how much I loved him. I wrote a letter to my future self, reminding myself not to forget who I was pre-baby. I told you how I stopped using shampoo and went berry-picking with Mike. I waited, mostly patiently, for our baby to make his appearance and actually went into labor the last day of August, which was Mike's 30th birthday.

 

I had a baby on the first day of this month at 2:16 am, which was sort of amazing. His name is Gabriel Christopher and I loved him with all my heart right from the beginning. It was a bit of a roller coaster at first, but it quickly became a little love-fest over here. I wrote Gabe's birth story in three blog posts. I was surprised by how much I was able to blog with a newborn, actually. I did my last bi-weekly pregnancy update two weeks post-partum and spent most of the month sitting on my couch with Gabe, learning how to breastfeed and take care of a tiny, sweet little baby. Oh, and with Photo Booth. I shared a few ways we simplify in order to afford having a baby.

Gabe turned one month old and I video blogged with him three times. Yeah. I'm obsessed. I asked for hair advice, baked some apple rosemary scones, and hiked with Gabe. I turned 26 this month with a delightfully low-key day - I saw my midwife for my 6-week post-partum checkup, went to Trader Joes, and visited with a college friend. Mostly, I spent time feeling like a mom and learning how to take care of my little peanut.

For the first time since starting my blog, I didn't participate in NaBloPoMo. I didn't think it'd be a wise move with a two-month-old. I showed you how to make cheesy tortilla soup and Gabe proved himself a smiley little two-month-old. I also shared some corners of our apartment and talked about our choice to cloth diaper Gabe. The big change of the month was my decision to leave my job at the high school and take a part-time job at Starbucks. We're now penny-pinching in a major way, but I can't imagine working five days a week with such a long commute. I am lucky. Poor, but so lucky.

After about a month of working at Starbucks, I reflected on some of the best and worst parts of working part-time and being a working mom. Gabe continued to woo you all with his little smiles in his three month post. I confronted some criticisms about my choices and wrote a letter to wannabe breastfeeding moms. Gabe had a wonderful first Christmas and we have been drowning in snow.  I'l tell you about it all soon.

I fell in love with a little guy named Gabe in 2010 and am excited to discover what 2011 holds for my little family.