Atomic Tonic

The last couple of weeks I've been going through all the cookbooks I own. The many I never use and the few I do. I've been making weekly menus and shopping lists because taking care of two kids is ruining my ability to remember where I put my chapstick or if I put a diaper on the kid I just changed or what I should cook for dinner.

Two kids was making the idea of one trip a week to the grocery store daunting, nevermind the three or four it actually was. The first few times I even contemplated it I ended up on the couch in a cold sweat instead. Where does one even put an infant and a toddler in one grocery cart and also have room for any groceries? What do you do when the toddler wants to run down the aisles and bolt around the corner clear out of sight and the infant is in the cart? How can one person be in two places at once? How does one make dinner when the toddler puts you on the spot? Every single night with the requests to eat. Every night! "Mama! Eat!" Every night with this dinner thing.

So I'm going through all my cookbooks. I'm shopping once a week. I threw away the cookbook that turned out three mediocre to bad meals, the last of which Matilda scraped off her tongue. A few new recipes have made it onto the list of things I'll make again.

Tonight's dinner was crap. Needed oyster sauce. Lucky for us, Matilda and I had put a cake in the oven before I started chopping leeks.

The cake was alright.

(Fom Cooking Light Magazine)

1 2/3 cup flour
1 1/2 cup sugar
3/4 cup Dutch process cocoa
1 1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
1 cup applesauce
1/2 cup plain soy milk
1/4 cup canola oil
1 cup sweetened dried cranberries
1/2 cup chopped walnuts, toasted

Preheat oven to 350. Mix dry ingredients in a bowl. Add the wet ingredients, the cranberries and nuts. Mix well. Pour into a greased 10-inch springform pan. Bake for 45 minutes or until edges begin to pull away from sides of pan. Cool and sprinkle powdered sugar on top.

I've purchased two easter bunnies, one bag of Jelly Bellies, one bag of Cadbury's Mini Eggs and three 3-packs of Peeps for Matilda's easter basket. We currently have two packs of Peeps in the house. I'm not buying anymore easter candy and I'm not getting on the scale this week. I did, however, have a decent 4+ mile run yesterday and a good 3+ one today. Running is almost starting to feel good again. That will have to do.

I won't forget that our first night home with our first newborn was terrifying. I won't forget that we had no idea what to do and were so lost that we called the pediatrician in the middle of the night. I won't forget that he sounded very tired. That he was very patient with us. That he made me feel better and then a little crazy for feeling like we needed to call him in the first place.

I won't forget that Matilda screamed for four months. That she hated her carseat with the fire of a thousand suns and mearly waving her bottom over it was enough to send her into spasms of red-faced hatred. I won't forget that she screamed loud enough to shatter glass everytime we put her in it and the only thing funny about it was going under overpasses as the shadows they cast made her open her eyes so wide we thought they'd pop right out of her head. Every single time.

I won't forget that Linnea does not hate her carseat. That she naps in it even when we're not in the car. I won't forget that she's an easier baby. I won't forget that the second time, the sleeping is easier and so is the sleep deprivation.

I won't forget that the first time, breastfeeding was scary and the closest thing to jumping out of a plane I'd ever done. It was a leap of faith. I hit ground pretty hard. I won't forget that the first time, for the first 4 months, breastfeeding broke me. The second time, breastfeeding put me back together. I will forget what it feels like to nurse one of my babies, but I won't forget that it was good. That it was worth it. That I'm glad I stuck it out.

I'm going to talk about my kids' current sleep habits. I'm about to stab myself in the face and pour whiskey on the wound.

Matilda has never been a good sleeper. Too busy screaming! (In fact, I just typed that she's never been a good screamer. Had to go back and edit.) I can't bring myself to relive it and no one wants to hear it. Let's just say she has not been easy. Recently, I've been hating her naps. It was taking an hour to get her to sleep. I'd lie on our bed and nurse Linnea while Matilda lay on the other side of her sister and eventually get around to sleeping. Bedtime had morphed into about the same thing but with more books before she'd lay down and more kicking after she'd put her head on the pillow. Then she'd get up to reach the water in the cubby over our bed. Then to get chapstick. Oh, the games we had! If I was feeling calm and mellow and like a good parent, the rituals didn't make me want to scream. But if I was worn-out and thirsty and wanted to GET ON WITH IT ALREADY, the water and the chapstick and the sometimes Kleenex. Oh. Made my hair curl. And from there we'd have an hour to go.

I asked the advice of my friends inside the computer and the consensus was "get a grip." Or, "get a routine." Stick to it. Show no mercy. That was 5 days ago. We told her she'd be sleeping in her bed. We'd read her books and I'd kiss her goodnight and leave the room. Then Niclas would tuck her in and leave the room. We'd leave her awake. The first night, she stomped her Crocs-clad feet and screamed for 45 minutes. The next night, she half-heartedly called for Papa for 5 minutes. Last night, not a peep. Tonight, silence. Naps are the same. Books, kisses, tuck her in, pat her back, leave the room.

I've got to say, it's nice not having her roll all over me all night, but that's not the point. It was the getting to sleep that was giving me a twitchy eye. It she joins us at 3am (she hasn't so far), that's ok. I like cuddling with her. I'm just not lying with her waiting for her to fall asleep anymore.

This brings us to the little big one. Linnea is a better sleeper. Last night she slept for 8 hours straight. I'm still shaking my head over it. This morning, she fell asleep nursing so I wedged her into the Boppy pillow and tucked her in. She woke up and looked around the room. I assumed she'd be squawking soon enough to be picked up but she went and fell asleep on her own. She's better at this. I don't get 8 hours out of her every night, but I'm clearly going to have an easier time of it on round two.

These weekly body check-ins are getting stale. The photos look the same. The weight is dropping, if i believe my scale, and yet still nothing fits. Sixteen pounds remain. I've got one wedding band on but it leaves a mark on my finger. I'm starting to feel better, stronger, on the inside. It's just that the outside hasn't caught up yet.

I can't promise how long I'll keep this up, is what I'm saying.

Linnea had her two month check-up today. She's 10 pounds 11 ounces. 22.5 inches long. Already smarter than us as she managed to barf her way out of getting her shots. The nurse tried to give her an oral rotovirus vaccine. Linnea calmly projectile vomited it and a quart of milk all over herself and the floor. Twice. Then passed out from exhaustion. The nurse and I looked at each other, her in purple non-latex gloves and me with a boob hanging out, and decided that was good enough for the day. "Bring her back next week for shots!"

Matilda won't stop talking. She talks all through breakfast and drawing and painting her nails. She talks all through picking her outfit, "blue dress blue dress," and getting dressed. She talks on the way to the car. She talks in the car. She talks about the car. She talks through dinner and bath time. She talks over us when we read her stories. She talks to Linnea. "Chatty" was circled on her daycare note yesterday. Underneath that it said "at naptime."

I've never run a marathon. I've never run a half. I've never run over 8 miles in one go or reached 30 miles in a week. I've spent time exercising -- I ran around the block a few times in high school. I've spent many mornings at the gym. An all women's one in a basement in Somerville. A co-ed one on the second floor of a mall in Cambridge. I've used the cross-trainers and the bikes. The rowing machines and the ab machines and the butt thigh and calf machines. I spent a summer biking to the beach and the grocery store on the Cape and another summer rollerblading to work in traffic and coasting down the bike path on the weekends -- but I'd never been a runner.

I started running after my pregnancy with Matilda. I spent that pregnancy listening to my OB tell me that she likes to go for long runs on her kids' birthdays. That she goes back home to run a specific race most years. That sometimes, when she starts out, she's just so happy she's not pregnant so she can run. She's got 4 kids and over 10 years on me. She runs 4 miles most days and at that point in her life, she was on call 24 hours a day, 7 days a week to deliver every woman she saw in her practice. She's in great shape. Always seems happy, never hunched over, never exhausted when just listening to her schedule makes me want to nap.

About six weeks after I had Matilda, I started going to the gym. I started on the cross-trainers and the bikes. The ab machines and the butt thigh and calf machines. After awhile, I tried a treadmill. I was slow but too fast to run for more than 10 minutes. Maybe even 5. I slowed down. I'd run. Then walk. Then run and walk and run and walk. I evnetually worked myself up to running outside. I ran 1/2 a mile away from my house and then the 1/2 a mile back. At first I couldn't run it without stopping to walk. Then I could. So I added a little more distance and worked up to nearly 25 miles a week. I got faster. I felt strong. Tall. I felt good (but always hungry). The first time I ran an 8 mile loop I wasn't sure I'd make it. Coming down the slight hill at the end of those 8 miles, I wanted to keep going.

One of my best runs was in the middle of a snow storm. I was coming over the crest of a hill on a busy street. The sidewalk on this street is a mess, all jagged eruptions from tree roots and dipping driveways, before any snow even touches down. The wind was hitting me in the face and my second pair of pants were so heavy with snow they were falling down. A truck blew past and sprayed me with freezing sleet. It was awesome. It was 5:30 in the morning and I could hardly see three feet in front of me. My clothes were soaking wet. My feet were swimming. The snow was heavy and wet and stinging my eyes but there was a hot shower at home and the knowledge that I'd run 5 miles before a lot of folks are even out of bed. Nothing could touch me that day. I ran 5 miles into a storm. Nothing a commute or an office job or parenthood or marriage could throw at me was going to beat that.

I had a good run today. They've been good all week. Today I dropped Matilda at daycare, wedged my car key into my sports bras and ran from the parking lot. I ran 4 miles. Even with the extra weight I felt light. I went down streets I don't usually run on and streets I used to run on but haven't built up the mileage to run on postpartum. I thought of a friend who recently had a tough time trying to get in a workout at the gym with her infant in their daycare and not enough treadmills. I thought about how that frustration outweighs anytime she did squeeze in on a machine. And then I stopped thinking and I just ran. One kid was at daycare. The other was at home with Niclas. I didn't have a cell phone on me. I didn't have any iPod cords tangling me up. Nothing in my hands. No pockets, no bag, no water bottle. I felt really and truly free. I wanted to just keep going.

Running is fun again.

Found this recipe online last week. I was hoping they'd replace the animal crackers we buy. Made a double batch this morning with Matilda helping from her usual spot on the island and Linnea nearly doubled over and snoring in the pouch. They were fun enough to make but they taste like pie crust. Pie crust by itself really isn't all that. I'm thinking the dough could stand a little vanilla.

1/2 cup oatmeal
2 tsp honey
1/4 to 1/8 tsp salt
3/4 cup flour
1/4 tsp baking soda
1/4 cup butter, softened
4 Tbsp buttermilk

Do not grease cookie sheet. Grind oatmeal in a blender until fine. Add honey, salt, flour and soda. Cut in butter. Add buttermilk.

Roll dough very thin; cut out with animal cookie cutters. Bake at 400 degrees (F) until brown, 10 to 12 minutes (we used small cookie cutters so I only baked them for 7 minutes).

Linnea is 10 weeks old today. She loves the sun smiley face that stares down at her when she lies on her baby gym. Grins and pumps her legs at it. She swings at toys brought into her range. Sucks on her hands. Follows Matilda around the room with her eyes. She's wearing 3-6 month clothes. Has spent the week screaming at us if we put her down.

Man. She gets so mad. It's a good thing she's cute because the screaming around here is a little out of control. The best (and by best I mean worst) is when Matilda starts screaming too. That is SO MUCH FUN.

Ever wonder what a 5k with a 26:53 finishing time looks like 10.5 weeks postpartum and 15+ pounds overweight? Don't say I've never done anything for you.

I ran this race last year with Matilda in the stroller. It was windy and girlfriend hated the windguard in front of her with the fire of a thousand suns. She screamed all the way to the finish which was good incentive to run like hell. This year I did not push a stroller. There was no wind. I beat my time from last year by 32 seconds. I should be happy about that and I guess I am but I'm still so discouraged about the weight. The weight that is going nowhere. That is hanging around and dragging me down. Keeping me out of my clothes. Being kept company by the raging hunger. The hunger that comes back like high tide every two hours. Sometimes very hour. The hunger that is making it difficult to drop any of the weight.

I keep trying to run away from it. It keeps finding me. Maybe if I run faster.

My kids have broken me. I am broken. If I hear one more shard of the beginning of a scream today I am going to get in the car and drive to Kansas.

Lucky for Kansas, Matilda's in bed and Linnea is drooling in my armpit. Niclas isn't really a screamer. I'm not raising my voice above a whisper.

We might be good. I might still live here tomorrow. I hope tomorrow there's less screaming because today there was a lot of screaming and Kansas was looking good.

Last week when it was winter Matilda and I made some playdoh. We used a recipe I found online. It was easy to make and Matilda enjoyed the part where we added the food coloring but once that was done and I was left to knead the colors in, she was pretty much over it. Which was kind of a drag because we had been making collages on paper bags previously and that mess was still all over the dining room while the playdoh mess was unfolding in the kitchen.

Playdoh

1 cup flour
1 cup boiling water
2 tbsp. cream of tartar
1/2 cup salt
1 tbsp. oil
Food coloring

Mix and knead together. This playdoh is not sticky and does not dry out.

(We find that corn starch mixed with a little water (and food coloring if you like to live on the edge) makes a much more interesting substance. Like sand down by the water at the beach.)

Today

Today Linnea is 11 weeks old. When she's not screaming to be held, by me, only me, she's a peach. Smiles like crazy, kicks her legs. Laughs, gurgles, grins, chews on her hands. Grabs the rings hanging from her baby gym. Didn't wake up last night until 3:30. Makes up for the screaming with cute but she does lose her everloving mind every night at Matilda's bath-time.

This morning Matilda picked up the cup dispenser from a bottle of cough medicine. She took it to the park and then the children's museum with us. Brought it back to the house and into bed for her nap. Set it next to her on the table while she made more paper bag collages after nap. She keeps calling it her cup of coffee. She does not need coffee to go to 11.

This afternoon we made a double-batch of banana bread. I messed with a low-fat recipe I (wait for it) found online. The original had 189 calories a slice. This version probably has more (original was all white flour and whole eggs while this is egg whites and a mix of flours, flax seed meal and wheat germ). Right before we headed into the kitchen to make this, I checked in on a blog I've been reading as of late only to find that she'd just made some healthier banana bread as well. Great minds and all that or something.

I'd recommend the following recipe even though I haven't tried it yet as Matilda has just eaten three slices. She's never eaten an entire slice of any quick bread before.

Low-Fat/No-Longer-Low-Calorie Banana Bread

4 egg whites
1 1/3 cups sugar
4 ripe bananas, mashed
1/2 cup applesauce
2/3 cup skim or 1% milk
2 tbsp. vegetable oil
1 1/2 tbsp. vanilla
1 1/2 cups white flour
1 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
1/4 cup flax seed meal
1/4 cup wheat germ
4 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. salt
2/3 cup chopped walnuts

Preheat oven to 325. Spray two bread pans with non-stick cooking spray.
In a large bowl, beat egg whites and sugar until light and fluffy.
Beat in bananas, applesauce, milk, oil and vanilla.
In a separate bowl, add flours, flax seed meal, wheat germ, baking powder, soda and salt.
Stir flour mixture into banana mixture until just blended.
Fold in walnuts.
Pour batter into brean pans. Bake until bread is golden and a toothpick comes out clean, about 1 hour.

Me too

In running news no one cares about but me, I'm pretty comfortable saying I'm back up to 20 miles a week. Hit the 100 mark three weeks ago. Got new running shoes. Am considering a 10k this Sunday for the beer and party at the end even though I haven't run that distance postpartum yet. I know I can. I also know I wouldn't be racing.

I'm down one more pound. Losing weight at a reasonable rate is bullshit.

Having a sweet tooth is a new thing for me. Used to be, I went for the salt. Sugar was nice but I never ordered dessert. If I had cake I'd cut the frosting off. I'd eat a brownie but wash it down with pretzels and then the salt in the bottom of the bag once the pretzels were gone. I put salt on my pizza and salt in everything I cooked. I had me a love affair with sodium. Then I got pregnant with Matilda and the whoopie pies started looking real good. I was wrapping up lunch with giant m&m cookies. Burgers out were followed by ice cream or a brownie or a brownie with ice cream on top.

Since I was already eating the sugar, I decided to finally get a KitchenAid. I'd put one on our wedding registry, just like everyone else, but we didn't get it. I'd been dreaming of a KitchenAid for as long as I can remember but I didn't bake so it seemed a waste. But then! Pregnant! Gleefully shoving cookies into my pie hole hand over fist. So I bought a KitchenAid and started baking in earnest. Cookies and brownies and a lot of cakes. Marzipan tortes and ginger cakes. Carrot layer cakes and vanilla bundt cakes. For Matilda's first birthday I tested 4 chocolate cake recipes before settling on an old standard.

The sweet tooth has quieted down a little since my pregnancy with Matilda but the baking bug is so far up my ass I don't know how to get through a week without baking something. I bake a cake anytime someone threatens to come over. Matilda gets up from a nap? Time to make cookies! Going to the grocery store? Hey! I'll buy some raspberry extract for no good reason. I'm sure I can think up something to bake with it. Playdate? Let's make a cake! Rainy Tuesday afteroon? Great! Cupcakes!

It's a problem. It's a problem because I lack the ability to control my intake. If there's a bundt cake sitting in my kitchen, I eat it. I eat it all up yum. It's a problem because I'm trying to lose weight and at my current rate of loss, I won't fit into my pants until Thanksgiving. I need to stop baking because the baby weight is depressing me and the vanilla cupcakes with raspberry glaze are not helping (and the glaze wasn't even that great).

So today is day one of my Bake Off. Baking is off. No more baking. Internet, it's up to you to keep me accountable.

Now I need to go cultivate my sewing obsession.