Spinach Quiche

I threw this together last night, and it turned out pretty good! I thought I'd share the recipe here - well, as best as I can, since I do a lot of eyeballing without actually measuring.



For the crust, you can buy a frozen or pre-made crust, or you can use this recipe:

1 1/3 cup all purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup shortening*
4-5 tablespoons cold water

Mix flour and salt. Add shortening and mix until crumbly. Add water by the tablespoon and toss with a fork until a ball forms. Roll out until the dough is the proper size for your pie dish.

*I have also used unsalted sweet cream butter in place of the shortening. It made for a very yummy, buttery crust. Butter flavored shortening would probably have the same effect.

Quiche Filling (set oven to 400* F)

6 large eggs
1 small package frozen spinach
1/2 an 8oz block of cheddar cheese, shredded (you can add or subtract according to your taste, or use a blend of cheeses)
1/2 a lb of cooked ground beef or sausage (I actually cooked up several frozen meatballs, then crumbled them up - they had a sausage-esque flavor to them)
1/4 cup chopped onion
Spices*
1/2 tablespoon salt
1/8 teaspoon cumin
1/4 teaspoon basil
a pinch of rosemary and thyme
1/4 teaspoon black pepper

*The spices are approximate. I'm a pinch of this, little of that kind of cook when it comes to spices. I have a blend that I pre-mix and use on a lot of things, so I did my best to figure the measurements of what goes in it.

Crumble and cook the ground beef or sausage in a frying pan. While it's browning, beat eggs, then add cheese, onion, spinach, and spices. After meat is thoroughly cooked, drain grease and allow meat to cool slightly. Then add meat and mix thoroughly. Pour and spread mixture into the crust. Bake at 400* F for 45 minutes or until crust starts to brown lightly.

Homemade Pizza

I thought I'd give this a try, and we all really enjoyed it! I hadn't made homemade pizza since I was a kid. I made a really simple, yeast-free dough, and pretty much improvised from there. I think we'll make this a weekly thing. It was good.

Here's the olive oil and mozzarella pizza:



I made a broccoli and tomato pizza:



The crust was simple:

1.5 cup unbleached flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 cup + 1 tablespoon water
2 tablespoons olive oil + some for the base

Mix dry ingredients, then add water and oil. Knead until soft and elastic, about 5 minutes. Divide into two halves if you like thinner crust, or one if you like it thick. I like mine fairly thin. Brush with olive oil, then add your favorite toppings. Bake at 425* until the cheese is slightly brown and bubbly (about 15 minutes for me).

Doggysitting and More

I'm watching a friend's chihuahua, Callie, while our friend is at the beach with her husband and a few other friends (I was invited, but there's no way we could afford a trip right now).

So far, Callie has pooped in the house three times and peed twice, even though I did make sure to take her out regularly for potty breaks. I think anxiety is getting to her. First of all, she's away from her family and home. Secondly, we have a cat, which is a new, weird thing for her. Third, we have small children. 'Nuff said. Bless her little heart.

I set up a bed for her with her blanket from home and a pillow, but she refused and insisted on waking me up to sleep under the covers with me, in my bed. I'm a softy, so I let her.

I know very little about caring for dogs on a regular basis, but I do love dogs, so I'm enjoying the learning experience. The potty accidents and trips outdoors for breaks, however, are solidifying my appreciation for litter boxes, though they're a pain to clean. Even so, I still think I'd like a doggy someday, maybe when we own a home with a nice yard.

Of course, I took pictures.

This is Callie:




Doggysitter Dax:




Tim let Jett walk her in the park:




Dax and I (not a super flattering angle for me):




Dax:






It's been fun, Callie!

Dax's Birth Story

I wrote this just a couple days after Dax was born, so keep in mind that I was sleep deprived, and the pain was still pretty fresh on my mind. After those first few weeks, that pain became more of a fuzzy memory. Now, almost 5 months after his birth, I actually look forward to laboring and giving birth again, sans medication. It's funny how that works. Some have said that the human race would have died out long ago if women actually vividly remembered the pain of childbearing, but I digress.

Once upon a time...

First of all, I still don't know how I did this. I'm just in shock that I actually made it through this labor without pain meds. I always thought I had a high pain tolerance, but dang, this hurt.

My water broke Tuesday morning (May 13, two days before my due date) around 6:45 or so, after a sleepless night of coughing and blowing my nose. I honestly think that might have triggered it. I had my first true labor contraction about 30 minutes later, on the way to the birth center to get checked out. My midwife checked the baby's heart rate, just to make sure the head wasn't pressing down on the cord. She didn't want to do too many internal exams since my water was no longer intact, so she didn't do a cervical check just then. She sent me home with a Doppler and had me call in every so often to give updates.

I walked around, did some cleaning, sat on the birth ball, surfed the net - the usual. I paced up and down the breezeways of our apartment building to get things moving, and I called the birth center periodically to update them on my progress.

Fast forward about 12 hours - the contractions started getting pretty painful, and although they were only lasting about 30-40 seconds, they were coming pretty close together - about 2 minutes apart. We called the birth center, and she told us to come on in. We called Molly, our doula, and had her meet us there.

The MW felt my uterus and timed a few contractions. She said we were welcome to stay, but she felt that we might do better going back home to let the contractions warm up some more. She had a feeling that since I had never labored before, perhaps adrenaline and anxiety were making my contractions so short and close together. So we decided that relaxing, watching a movie, and distracting myself might help my body relax and make the contractions more efficient.

So, we went home. I immediately started bawling in the car. I had no idea how I was going to cope with these contractions. I couldn't imagine anything distracting me from the pain. They were already coming so close and intense, and I thought for sure I was in transition. I was nauseated. I was hot, then cold. I was shaking. The pain was so intense, I swore up and down that I wouldn't make it. Tim was amazing. He kept reminding me of how far I'd come and how strong I was. He told me I was doing great, and even though I didn't believe him at the time, it was really helpful to hear him being so positive.

After about an hour of super painful contractions at home, we called Molly, and had her come over to our house. Like Tim, she was really great at staying positive and reminding me how well I was doing (which, again, I didn't believe). I just felt calmer somehow when she and Tim both were with me. They had different roles, but both worked together really well.

After another hour of contractions, Molly decided to call the MW and let her know how things were progressing. She told her that she could see my uterus contracting, and the contractions definitely seemed stronger. I talked to the MW on the phone (which was pretty much impossible) about how the contractions felt and such. We all decided that we should go ahead and come back to the birth center.

We got there around 9pm, I think (I was pretty out of it). As soon as we got there, we decided that a cervical check would probably be a good idea, so I could know how far I'd progressed. I was 5cm, which was somewhat of a relief since getting from 1-5 takes the longest, even though I knew I still had some way to go. I sat on the birthing ball and leaned against the bed with Tim in a chair behind me, and Molly sat on the bed in front of me.

The next few hours are almost a complete blur to me right now. I was one of those women that falls asleep between every.single.contraction. I head heard of it, but I never imagined it happening to me. I absolutely could not keep my eyes open. I remember falling asleep, dreaming, talking in my sleep, then waking up, thinking "did I just say that?" The contractions were so extreme, too. I would wake up as the contractions started, but I hadn't had a chance to prepare for them, so it was really difficult for me to stay on top of it and "ride the wave", as my Molly said. My MW told me to breathe like I was fogging up a mirror, which helped keep my jaw loose and my throat open. It did help a lot. If I actually managed to stay awake between two contractions (which happened a few times when they were super close together), the second contraction would be much easier to handle since I was awake and ready, but it was near impossible for me to stay awake. I fell completely and fully asleep between contractions. I actually started snoring, and my head bobbed up and down and woke me up a few times. It was quite the spectacle, I imagine.

Eventually, I started pushing spontaneously with the contractions, which actually felt good. It made them a little easier to tolerate. This entire time, though, my contractions were still only 30-45 seconds long, and they were coming just as close as they were before - about a minute and a half to two minutes apart. The MW was not sure that she wanted me to get in the tub (I had planned a waterbirth) until the contractions started lasting longer - more like 60-75 second - and they just hadn't gotten to that point. She was afraid that my labor would stall, so she wanted me to wait as long as possible, which I understood - although I couldn't help but think that getting into water would immensely help the pain.

I think it was around 12:30 when we decided to do another cervical check to see how I'd progressed. Much to my relief, I was 9cm. Woot! My MW had me do a practice push. She said I wasn't quite ready to push yet, so I sat on the edge of the bed for another 30 minutes or so. She asked me how important having a waterbirth was to me, and I said that I really wanted to avoid tearing. I believed that being in water would help with that, not to mention the pain relief aspect. She said that with such an unusual contraction pattern as mine, she was still afraid to get me in the water, since I had progressed so well being out of the water. She said it was really unusual for women to progress all the way to 9cm with that kind of pattern, and she was afraid that making a change to the tub might mess things up. Molly reassured me that she was excellent and preventing tears. I trusted her. I knew they'd attended a lot of births together, so I believed her.

Confident that I could do it without being in the tub, and confident in my MW, I decided to go ahead and deliver out of the tub, in the birthing room. We did another cervical check, and I was ready to push, so I went ahead. I thought I was going to explode. I really don't know how I did it. I felt like my entire body was turning inside out.

She knew that I wanted to catch the baby, so when the head started to crown, she had me reach down and touch it. It was soft and squishy. She told me to keep my hands down there so I could catch. I guided the head out (with her help). When I heard Molly talking about how cute the face was, I knew it wasn't going to be too long. I pushed the shoulders out (man, that felt weird), and my midwife said, "Here it comes, catch your baby!"

After 45 minutes of pushing, I guided the body out, and pulled him to my chest. He looked so tiny compared to the 10lb 8oz baby I delivered before! I think the first thing I said was "Hey baby!" I think Tim was the first to point out that it was a boy, and I verified by turning him over so I could look myself. Sure enough, my radar was right. I had a feeling when I was pregnant that this baby was a boy.

Tim cut the cord, and a little while later, Molly went with him to go weigh the baby - 8lbs 13oz. After the placenta was delivered, the MW checked me over, and amazingly, I only had one small superficial tear that wouldn't even require a stitch at all, so Molly was right - she knows her stuff when it comes to reducing tears. Tim said she used almost an entire bottle of olive oil on me while I was pushing.

Dax nursed within 30 minutes of birth, and he latched on perfectly. My mom and dad brought Jett in a little bit later so he could see his new little brother.

Of course, I must add a few pictures (nothing graphic - no crowning baby pics, or anything like that). Thanks to Molly for taking the middle 3 pictures.

This was taken during early labor. I call it "Tinkerbelly":




Tim holding Dax for the first time:




Nursing for the first time (yes, I still had some blood on my hands and arms):




Meeting big brother, Jett, for the first time (that's my mom holding Jett):




Getting checked out, shortly after birth:



I may also post Jett's birth story here sometime soon. I haven't actually written it out yet. Some of the circumstances following his birth are hard for me to think about, but I really believe it might be cathartic for me to get it out in writing.

I'll leave you with one more picture of Dax, from a week ago-ish:

Shameless Husband Brag Ahead:

Yesterday, I dropped Tim off at work after his break. Lately, with gasoline being in high demand, we've cut down drastically on our driving. The boys and I hadn't been out for a while, and Jett desperately needed some outdoor playtime. So, we decided that I should have the car for the evening and take them to the park.

Tim also offered to bring me some food from the restaurant (he's a server, and he gets food half price). I waited in the car while he went in to order. Usually, when he brings me food, I wait in the car for about 20 minutes, and then he emerges with my sandwich, salad, and drink.

He stepped out of the passenger door, giving me a kiss before he made his exit. Then, about 10 minutes later, he came out with just a drink. He brought it around to the driver's side window, and I said, "Um, you're missing something."

He grinned and said, "I know. I just wanted more excuses to kiss you goodbye, so I'm bringing it in shifts."

Awwww. :)

He brought out my salad next, without the sandwich. ::Goodbye kiss:: Then, 5 minutes later, he brought the sandwich. ::Goodbye kiss::

8 1/2 years and 100 pounds later, he still looks for excuses to kiss me goodbye. Of course, he didn't really need an excuse, in my opinion.

Obligatory picture - 8 1/2 years ago:



::Goodbye kiss::

Phoenix

Rest in peace, sweet kitty.

So, Tim Says He's Done.

Tuesday was a bit of a family day for us. We went to the park so Jett could play. It started sprinkling while we were there, so we decided to leave the park and enjoy a rare dinner in a restaurant. Lately, we don't get much fancier than Chik-fil-a, so that's where we ended up.

The topic of expanding our family came up as our little foursome dined on chicken sandwiches and waffle fries. Jett was screaming furiously because he couldn't open a ketchup packet, and Dax was fussing at the idea of his mouth not having a boob in it for five minutes so I can shove some fast-food poultry down my throat.

Needless to say, it was an interesting time to discuss having more children. Interestingly, though, I can't bring myself to say that I'm done. Even now - I'm typing one-handed while I hold Dax, and Jett keeps handing me a McDonald's kid's meal toy, screaming because the rubberband that he insists on having around its head keeps coming off - I want more. I just do.

Tim does not.

No more. None. No mas bebes. If we had the money, he'd find a doctor willing to preform a vasectomy right now, at 11:12pm on a Friday night. He'd be there - pants off, bare butt on the operating table - before I could say "it's okay, honey I'll get an IUD, and we can revisit this later".

I may be exaggerating just a smidge, but he's not far from that.

I'm even willing to wait about ten years. I'd be 35, and the boys would be 12 and 10. They could take care of themselves more effectively, and they might even help out. Tim says that by that point, we'll have our sleep back, no diaper duty, and children that can feed themselves pretty well. So, obviously, we won't want to give that up for another crying, sucking, poop machine. Strangely, I'm still not so sure.

Maybe it was the extremely positive birth experience that I had with Dax (I'm planning to post that birth story here very soon). I absolutely loved giving birth to him. As much as I complained about being pregnant, I wouldn't trade it, and I can't imagine never feeling a baby move in my belly again. Despite the raging nipple pain and engorgement (among other things) associated with breastfeeding, I don't want Dax to be the last baby I nurse.

Maybe it's because I'm completely fascinated by pregnancy, childbirth, breastfeeding, and the overall workings of the human body. More specifically, I'm enraptured by the female body - my own body - and its ability to nourish another human from conception on through to breastfeeding and beyond.

Sigh.

I still hold out hope that Tim will change his mind. I don't think he'll feel this way forever. Even if he doesn't, maybe I'll eventually share his sentiment, and we'll both feel happily done having children. We'll see.

How I Made My Own Liquid Hand Soap

First of all, I found the recipe at TipNut. I highly recommend subscribing to their email list for all sorts of goodies in your inbox.

Here's an idea of what it looks like when finished. Notice I used an old soap bottle:



I used Ivory soap as the base, but I'm hoping to experiment with more natural soaps and cleansers in the future. Ivory also has a scent that can be quite strong for me. I always sneeze when I grate the soap bars.

I added some lavender oil for an extra pretty smell, but, like I said, the Ivory scent is pretty overpowering. Even so, I'm still very please with the final result. This will save us quite a bit of money, with all the hand washing that goes on here.

One of the tips below the recipe suggested using green tea instead of water to make green tea soap. I may try that next time. I think I might add a few drops of tea tree oil as well.

On Baby Names

When Tim and I were engaged, we made an agreement regarding baby names: he'll name the boys, and I'll name the girls. We actually took this seriously enough to make a rudimentary contract and sign it. Take a look - the notebook got wet, so there was some smudging:



So far, I'm 0 for 2. We have two boys - Jett and Dax. Rarely do I share their names and not receive a comment on their unconventionality or uniqueness. Sometimes, I wish I could actually take some credit for them, but it was all Tim - well, mostly Tim. I begged him to add the second "T" to Jett. I also wanted to call him "JJ", since his middle name begins with a "J" as well, but I traded that for the extra "T".

I believe Tim found the name "Jett" in a baby name book. It means "black gemstone". His middle name, James, is the same as Tim's older brother, who passed away in 2001.

I swore I was having a girl when I was pregnant with Jett. The name "April Rose" was on my short list during that brief time before I had my ultrasound. My due date was in April, and my grandma's maiden name is Rose. With my amazing creativity and originality (note the sarcasm), I crammed them together and came up with a name. I also toyed around with "Jetta Jane", which is basically a feminine version of Jett's name.

When I found out I was pregnant with Dax, I wanted to wait until the birth to find out the sex. Tim said he didn't care, so we waited. He toyed around quite a bit before settling on a name that really felt right to both of us. Despite the fact that we had a signed document granting him the right to name this child whatever he pleased if it was a boy, he was very flexible. My hormone-induced fits of disapproval were probably responsible for that.

When he first brought up the name "Dax", I said no. Actually, it was probably more like "H-E-double-hockey-sticks, no". He brought it up before I even became pregnant again, so I hoped that it would pass by the time we had another baby. Something about the name didn't sit well with me.

Tim toyed with a few other names - Red and Slater were a couple - but he landed on Dax in the end. I still wasn't sold.

So, I Googled it. I found a couple links about the German stock market and a couple about actor-comedian, Dax Shepard (which was somewhat comforting, knowing that there was another person with this name). I found it in a baby name database as well, and I liked the meaning. According to one site, Dax means "leader" in French. Another claims it means "water" (I didn't learn this until later on). I liked the meanings, so I was slowly starting to come around. Then, I came across a Wikipedia link that revealed a little history. Dax was a character on Star Trek.

Okay.

I should've known that much. He came from a family of Star Trek fanatics. I don't have anything against Star Trek, but I never really watched it. I caught a few episodes of Voyager, only because Tim was with me, and he wanted to watch it.

It took some time for me to come to terms with the fact that my next child, if he's a boy, would most likely have a name inspired by the holy grail of geekdom. I'm one to talk, though. I'm a die hard Star Wars fan, which certainly gives me some nerd points.

What ultimately sealed my approval was none other than my favorite red-haired late-night talk show host, Conan O'Brien. I was watching Late Night, as I do every night (I'm a HUGE fan), and I noticed that the aforementioned actor-comedian Dax Shepard was on the show. I was still hesitant about the name, but Tim said "I'll bet you anything that Conan will say how cool the name is. Maybe you'll like it then." I think he was half joking, but Conan had commented on his guests' names before, specifically Chazz Palminteri. I wasn't holding out too much hope, though.

Sure enough, after the opening monologue, he announced the guests, making a point to say "that's a cool name!" after announcing Dax Shepard. Apparently, Conan O'Brien has more control over me than I thought. The instant he declared the name as cool, I then thought it was cool, also. I was like a robot with a Conan O'Brien chip in my brain - not that I'm complaining.

Anyway.

I begged Tim to give Dax his middle name, Spicer, which is his grandmother's maiden name, but he wasn't interested. Instead, he chose to give him his mother's maiden name, Creager. His maternal grandfather passed away around the time we found out I was pregnant, so it really seemed apropos to give Dax his family name.

Had Dax been a girl, "she" would've been Julia Spicer. Julia was my great-grandmother's name, and Spicer, as I said before, is Tim's middle name. I've considered holding onto this name for a future daughter, if we happen to have more children, but I'm not sure I can do that. Somehow, I feel that the name is tied to Dax, in a way. That name is part of him, even though it's not his actual name. I chose it based on the connection I formed with him while he was part of me. The name fit. I feel that it will always be his "girl name", if that makes any sense.

I don't feel as strongly about Jett's girl name possibilities. First of all, I knew he was a boy when I was pregnant. Secondly, I hadn't truly settled on a girls' name, so I didn't form the same connection between the baby and the name.

Now that I've gone on and on, in great detail, about my boys' names, I should probably show some pictures.

Dax in the tub:


Super Jett:


Jett and Dax:


Dax and I:


And that's a wrap.

I haven't forgotten about my blog.

I just don't have as much time to type long posts. That, and I'm almost always holding a baby.

I'm currently eating a scrambled egg biscuit and drinking a glass of Coke while pondering just how well I'm going to handle starting Weight Watchers in about a week. I can't think about that. I have to do it. I just have to. I must lose weight - about 120 pounds. I need to lose a whole person.

It's funny. Before I had Dax, I was really confident in my looks - even as an obese woman. When I looked in the mirror, I saw the same girl that danced and sang into her hairbrush when she was 17, only there was one difference. That 17-year-old girl didn't like the way she looked. She thought she was fat and ugly. She hated her body.

100 pounds and one child later, I loved my body. I loved how it looked, and I loved what my body did for me. You would think that having a VBAC - Vaginal Birth After Cesarean - completely unmedicated at that, would've made that positive body image even stronger. You would think that breastfeeding exclusively - knowing that my body, and my body alone, is nourishing my baby completely, without any complication - would also add to that appreciation for my body.

You would think.

I can only guess that a combination of hormones, lack of sleep, and most likely postpartum depression are to blame for my recent body image issues. I haven't felt this horrid about my body since I was that insecure, self-conscious 17-year-old girl. I never thought that "because I want to look better" would be one of my reasons for starting a weight loss program, but now it is. You know what else? I'm not afraid to admit it. I want to look better. More than anything, I want better health and energy, but looking better is a close second, and I'm okay with that.

World Breastfeeding Week is almost here!

I went to my first LLL meeting last week. For those of you who aren't familiar, La Leche League (LLL, for short) is an international organization providing information and support to breastfeeding mothers. I can't believe I never went to one when I was pregnant with and/or nursing Jett! I can't imagine how that kind of in person, mother-to-mother support system would have positively impacted our nursing relationship. As it is, I probably wouldn't have made it to 11 months without support from numerous online communities.

With World Breastfeeding Week almost upon us, I thought I'd draw some attention to the topic as a whole, and how breastfeeding has changed my life.

Long before I ever became pregnant with Jett, I knew that I would breastfeed. My mother breastfed my brothers and me, all until we were toddlers. When I found out I was pregnant, I never even questioned it - I knew I'd breastfeed.

I never bought any breastfeeding books or attended any breastfeeding classes. I watched my mom do this a thousand times. You just put the baby's mouth on your boob - it can't be that hard, I thought. Of course, the overly confident, uninformed, first-time mom is always the one who encounters every possible problem - low supply, overactive let-down (which rarely accompanies low supply), thrush, poor weight gain (actually, he lost weight), poor latch, which led to cracked, bleeding nipples, followed by a roaring case of mastitis (breast infection), and, ultimately, I had to use something I never thought I'd need - formula.

After being treated for mastitis at one week postpartum and while suffering from an unholy amount of toe-curling pain, I started looking for support. I found Breastfeeding.com, saw a lactation consultant, bought The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding, and started educating myself. It was during this period of struggle, searching, and learning that I made an unexpected discovery - this is what I want to do. I want to help women who are struggling with these same issues. It just made sense. It fit. Never before had I felt that I found my "calling", but I found it - even if it was just being there to offer a heart-felt "you can do it!" to a struggling new mom on a message board.

Jett was 11 months old when he weaned, and while I encountered many an issue and used a lot of formula during those 11 months, I still feel that I started as a caterpillar and emerged a beautiful butterfly. We were even able to make it past a pregnancy and miscarriage, which gave the final blow to my milk supply, I believe. Even so, we went on for 3 months after I miscarried.

When I found out I was pregnant with Dax, I made a point to do things differently. I wanted to take every possible precaution to make sure I could breastfeed as soon as possible after he was born (unlike my experience with Jett, wherein I didn't get to nurse him for about 6 hours after he was born). I wanted to have an unmedicated birth with as few interventions as possible. I read everything I could get my hands on. I took classes and found incredible support there. This time, I felt truly confident and empowered. Instead of thinking that I knew everything already, without reading books or taking classes, I actually read the books, took the classes, and educated myself. I was informed, prepared, and ready. Knowledge truly was (and still is) power.

My birth and postpartum experience with Dax was a dream. The labor and delivery was uncomplicated, the birth was almost euphoric, and he latched on perfectly within 30 minutes of being born.



It was incredible. I still get teary eyed when I think about it. After months of struggling with Jett, thinking that my body would never be able to nourish a baby on its own, here we are - 10 weeks out, and Dax weighs over 14 pounds - he was 8 pounds 13 ounces at birth.



I'm still very much interested in starting a career in breastfeeding, perhaps as a counselor, but having two young children has kept me quite busy lately. I'm definitely hoping to further explore that possibility soon.

So, for those of you who were there to support and educate me during my breastfeeding hardships (and triumphs!), I send a heartfelt and long overdue thank you. :)

Indoor Gardening Tips (from a man who's very scared of plants)

I'm still hungry.

I didn't know what to title this, so I put what I was thinking at the time. Oh yeah, baby.

So, I'm starting to think that I might need to come up with a schedule for myself so I don't spend too much time online. I don't really spend all that much time here, but it seems like I don't get as much done around the house lately - since I got the DSL thereof.

I was thinking perhaps an every other day thing, or I could coordinate my non-internet days with Tim's days off, so we could spend more time together, of course. I'm mulling it over. Give me your musings on that. I needz feedback.

On a cosmetic note, I trimmed the hair of a certain 2-year-old boy this evening. I haz photoz.

I had trouble finding a good before, but these give you an idea:





And here's the newly trimmed hair. It's a little damp from his bath. He styled it himself.

DSL is so awesome.

I'm back in the game. I love having reliable internet.

Dax is up to almost 14lbs now - WOOT! He can actually wear some 18 month onesies. I don't know if it's his size or the fact that clothing sizes are so off sometimes. He's spitting up slightly less now too, but his nose is starting to get stuffy. Mine is too, so I think we might have the same allergy. The air here is horrid right now. I can't breathe through my nose. Grr.

Here's some pictures of the dudes.

Dax, about a week or so ago

Events as of late

So, I don't have a connection at home right now. I'm at a coffee shop. I might not blog much until we get a connection at home.

I finally figured out how Dax likes being held in the sling. I think we've got it.





So far, so good with the babywearing. :D

I swear, though, that this child spits up more than he eats. He's gaining well, though, and he doesn't appear to be in constant pain. I'm just sick of both of us stinking all the time and constantly changing our clothes. I'm going to invest in a vinyl, wipe-able wardrobe.

Do something drastic - cut the plastic!

If you haven't yet started to use cloth bags for groceries, read this.

If this kid doesn't start using the potty soon, I WILL die.

I know that I have to wait for his readiness cues and not force him, yadda yadda - but I'm getting sick of him taking off his pants and diaper and leaving his bodily waste all over the house. I don't have a problem waiting until he's ready. I do have a problem with this new hobby of his. It's hard enough taking care of a 6 week old that wants nothing more than to use me as a milking cow all day. Add in a two year old that will barely even sit on the potty chair for more than a millisecond, then proceed to poop on the floor and step in it.

I think I've tried just about every possible wardrobe alteration to keep him from getting to his diaper. He's busted out of every.single.one.

I want to be patient and wait until he's more ready to actually use the potty. I realize that this can be a long process, but dangit - I'm going to lose my freakin' mind if this is what I have to put up with until he figures it out.

/end rant.

My "Green" List

I'm still behind in some areas, admittedly, but I'm doing more and more to help the environment every day. I find myself thinking "how will this affect the earth?" before just about everything I do now. Here's a few things I'm doing. Note that many of these will save money, too.

• I make my own laundry detergent. This saves plastic containers, money, and uses more environmentally friendly ingredients.
  
• I'm completely shampoo free (although I still use conditioner). Again, saves money, plastic, and no harsh detergents.
• We shower and bathe only when absolutely necessary - I shower every 3rd day, Tim showers every other day, Jett gets a bath about twice a week, and Dax, weekly. If we get really dirty, of course, we'll make exceptions. A lot of cleaning can be done with just a cloth and a sink full of soapy water, too.
  
• We use cloth grocery bags, although I still forget to use them from time to time. I remember when I get to the checkout line and see the store brand cloth bags sitting there and think "Doh!"
  
• I'm saving plastic grocery bags for either recycling or, one day, I may teach myself to crochet a tote bag out of them.
  
• We cloth diaper, although there's some debate about just how environmentally friendly cloth diapering is, once you consider the added water usage to launder them. We started using cloth mainly to save money. Jett is still in disposable diapers, since the one-size diapers I bought don't fit him. They still fit Dax, though, and I love them. I use cloth wipes and nursing pads, too.
  
• We use energy efficient fluorescent light bulbs in our home, and we turn them off when they're not needed.
• We have a high efficiency Energy Star washer, and our apartment is equipped with Energy Star appliances (which wasn't our choice, but I'm glad we chose this apartment because of that).
  
• Our apartment also has low flow toilets and shower heads.
  
• Breastfeeding - saves water, time, energy, money, and more.
• I use Freecycle.com whenever I can to recycle things I don't need instead of throwing them out, and I use them to find things I want, too.
  
• I make my own household cleaners. Baking soda, vinegar, tea tree oil and other essential oils, washing soda, original Dawn dishsoap, and Ivory bar soap can clean just about anything.
  
• I recycle as much garbage as I can by either taking it to my parents and adding it to their recycling, or taking it to the recycling center, which isn't very close, so I don't do that often.
• I save food leftovers where I can - for example, I'll save the crusts from Jett's sandwiches to make croûtons.
• We use towels more than once after we bath. As long as you're, um, careful with how you use it, you can use a towel several times.
• I'm planning to get an environmentally friendly form of birth control - the Paraguard IUC - no pill packs or condom wrappers to throw away (I'm in a long-term, monogamous relationship, so STDs aren't an issue) .
  
• I'll use my Diva Cup when my cycle returns. I used it before with good success.
  

Here's some things I'm still working on, many of which have to do with the drawbacks of apartment living.

• I can't have a garden because I don't have a lawn, so I don't compost, but I'm looking into ways I can give away certain food scraps for others to compost. We go through bananas like crazy, and I know someone else could use those peels.
• We still use paper towels, but this is mainly for certain dirty jobs. I can be very germaphobic, and there are some jobs that are just too dirty for me to feel comfortable washing a cloth afterwards. I know, I know, I wash cloth diapers. This is something I'm working on. It's mainly with dirty kitchen stuff. The kitchen sink is the dirtiest place in the home.
• We drive more than we should, although we have a fuel efficient car. We get 30+ MPG, but we live in an area that's not very "walkable".
  
• I dry as much as I can on the drying rack, but I don't have a balcony or patio to dry things outdoors, and we can't put up a clothesline.
  
• Like I said earlier, Jett is still in disposables, but we can't afford the upfront cost of larger cloth diapers to fit his gigantic behind. We're working on potty learning.
  
• We still buy a lot of processed foods and cheap produce. We have yet to find a more wallet-friendly method of eating green, and our budget just won't allow much more wiggle room for food. When I have a yard, I'm starting a garden.
• I use AC a lot more than many people, I'm willing to bet. I'm extremely hot natured, and I sweat like a pig. I get stinky when I get sweaty, too. This is something I'm working on, also, but it's one of my weaknesses. I live in the South, too, so it's hard not to.

So, what are you doing to go green? :)

I've made a decision.

I'm getting a Paraguard IUC (intrauterine contraceptive). I know for a fact that I don't want or need another baby for a good 3 years at least, so I wanted something long term, but not permanent. I also didn't want a hormonal form of birth control because my milk supply is very sensitive to hormones - even a progesterone only mini-pill. I hate having to remember to take a pill, too.

So, come July, it's bye-bye barrier methods. ::grin::

So...

Yesterday, I found a very thick, coarse, white hair (that I assume came from my head) while I was in the shower. I know it's not uncommon for 25 year olds to have a few grays, but this is the first that I've found on my head. What kills me is how thick and curly it was. Why can't the rest of my hair be like that? I don't care if it's white. I want thick hair, dangit. White hair would be pretty rock awesome, too.

Some stuff I made - a baby sling and cloth nursing pads

I've been trying to get the hang of this babywearing thing, so I bought some ring slings and did some sewing. I'm wearing a fake baby, of course. Eventually, I may get the hang of wearing a real baby. That is the goal, after all.



And, of course, as part of my efforts to save money and eliminate waste, I made some cloth nursing pads. This is just a prototype. It's not as contoured as I'd like, so I'll be working on some more.

I am beyond tired.

Sleep deprivation is an interesting thing. I'm very sleepy, yet I can't bring my self to get up from the computer and take a nap while the baby is sleeping. Why? Because I know that once I lie down, he'll wake up. 'Tis the law of infant/parent sleep cycles. It will probably be easier to take care of him if I get up from the computer to feed him than if I have to get out of bed to do it.

I'll be back later. I made some cloth nursing pads that I wanna show off.

Uh, Smurf's Turf?

Yes - Smurf was my nickname in high school. There was another girl named Meredith, and she had been dubbed "Murf". Since my name is also Meredith (and, apparently, nicknames are mandatory in some places), I was called "Smurf". A lot of people didn't even know my real name. I was just "Smurf" or "Smurfulls". I still answer to it, and some people still call me Smurf. I have a fond kinship with this nickname - thus, I use it online from time to time.

There you have it. :D