Archive for May, 2013

May 31, 2013

i’m a bit run down but i’m alright

we’ve been home from our last getaway for almost a week and, though we have almost settled back in to our life, i remain over-the-top exhausted. upon reflection, perhaps i shouldn’t have socialized 4 nights in a row. considering 4 social events in a week surpasses my (anti) social activity in the last year, it’s a real wonder what i was thinking. shit balls.

needless to say, it’s friday and i’m lazy tired so i’ve gone and pulled out the ol’ slow cooker. “why is it reasonable to consider a slow cooked stew-ish meal this late in spring?”,  you ask? because i live on the west coast and she rains. oh, does she rain. i’m damp in my bones and as far as i’m concerned, that calls for comfort food.

so, as i sit here relishing the quiet that can only come from nap time, my slow cooker is cooking us all up some healthy and hearty chili. and, because everyone loves cheesy flour product, i will soon get off my ass and prepare us some cheesy bannock too. first i thought i’d pretend i was quaint and post a couple recipes for you. deal?

be advised: there will be no pinterest inspired photos or other forms of quasi-adorableness, i don’t roll that way. just words dude, just words.

if you are still with me, congratulations! you won’t be disappointed by the bannock.

the recipe comes from a woman i knew in a former life and in her northern tundra circle it has won awards, which says a lot. it’s fab for a whole host of reasons but i dig it because it’s delicious, easy, and can me modified with yummy additions should you be so inspired.

we add cheese sometimes, dill and rosemary to accompany our family’s winter staple: salmon stew, and cranberries with orange rinds when i want to pretend i’m a cute mom (unfortunately, i mow down most, if not all, of the final product before it makes it in to my son’s lunch bag so my chance of bring noticed are literally eaten up).

as for the chili, i made it up as i’ve been known to do, but i have provided the vague details below (that counts as a recipe, no?) in case you feel brave. note: it makes tons so you can freeze and enjoy again.

9 bean chilli

need:

– 1 cup of dried bean and lentil mix, soaked for 24 hours in 2 cups of agua pre slow cooker fate

– 1 kg lean ground turkey

– 2 sweet onions, diced (or hacked up, as it were)

– 4 large carrots, chopped

– 1 bunch of celery, chopped

– 1 yam, chopped

– 2 cups of mushrooms, sliced

– 2 large cans of diced tomatoes (with juice)

– 1 mini can of tomato paste

– 5 tbspns mild chili powder

– dash or so of garlic powder and pepper

– dash or so of prev dried oregano and basil

– 2 tbspns brown sugar

– 1/4 cup h2o

need to do:

– prep beans and veg (except for the mushrooms) and place in slow-cooker with cans of diced tomatoes, tom paste, spices

– cook lean ground turkey on stove top, drain, and add to cooker.

– stir.

– press on (it really is that simple).

– cook for 6 hours on high plus 4 hours on low (or longer!).

– add mushrooms, stir in.

– cover / warm for 2 more hours.

cece’s bannock

need:

– 4 cups flour

– 4 heaping tspns baking powder

– 2 teaspoons salt

– 4 teaspoons sugar

– 1 cup veg shortening

– 2 cups milk

need to do:

– heat oven to 450 degrees.

– combine dry.

– rub in shortening by hand (warning: this makes a ROYAL mess).

– add milk, fold in with wooden spoon (or your hands).

– roll on to floured bread board and cut in to rounds.

– bake for 15 minutes.

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May 28, 2013

i never thought i’d hear myself say…

10. does this nursing bra make my boobs look fat?

9. we should exchange numbers and get the kids together.

8. is today tuesday?

7. we’ll be there sometime in between 10 and 12.

6. oh shit, i just peed myself.

5. if you say “momma” one more time, you are going for a time out.

4. do you think they’ll notice the milk stains?

3. my hair is acceptable greasy.

2. babe, have you ever thought about divorce? we could do 50 / 50 with the kids?

1. do these flats come in a size 11?

May 27, 2013

my mom’s got my back

today’s the day people, the day we’ve all been waiting for. today, we can begin voting for vancouvermom.ca’s top momma blogger.

as you may be aware, i have been shortlisted as one of the finalists. not in the know? where have you been? afterall, i have been spamming your news feed with the good news all week. just catching up? check out my good news post here and my vancouvermom.ca bio here. i’m #29, just like my years- ahem.

now, i know i don’t stand a chance against the amazing competition (these women like DO this and they are really, really fab) and i am well aware that having arrived thus far is absurd and amazing and enough. never one to listen to limits though, let’s do this. i’m pumped. so’s my mom. she thinks i’m pretty great.

should you agree with her, vote for me (me, me, me, me, me) and vote for me often (often, often, often, often, often).  i would like to be known as a top something and this coveted title works for me.

click to vote:

300x250_Top30

if nothing else, learning of the final count should be worth a laugh.

bless, hh.

May 26, 2013

good medicine

my family has just returned from a week away to tofino, a small and remote town on the west coast of vancouver island that serves as our home away from home.

sometimes, when driving in, and this trip was no exception, i realize what i seem to forget over and over: that this is where i went missing. it’s no one’s fault that we moved out so fast but, evidently, i wasn’t ready.

as it is now, life finds us well in vancouver, and we have a roundness and a wholeness to our life that we could not have achieved on the edge.  i remain confident that we made the right choice for our then son and now our plus one but my ghost lingers in that land, and i could almost hear pieces of me coming together as we drove further along, remnants of a spirit self lurking behind every curve of the treacherous highway and then surfacing, finding me.

my spouse drove us in steady, silent in thought and tapping his fingers to music we couldn’t hear, at ease in the familiar and soon to be in his family home, that of his family of origin- those that make him who he is and help explain some of what he has never been able to say.

my big boy, excited and anxious, desperate with anticipation to see “the tofino house” and the cousins that he adores and idolizes, played out every road trip cliche, asking every few minutes if we were there yet, begging for us to hurry, fighting sleep with repetitive movement like shaking his head, kicking his legs, rocking backwards and forward, and making obnoxious noises that he generously referred to as “songs”.

our precious baby, a living lesson in keeping an open heart and trusting those who love you, curiously looked at the passing scenery with an uninformed yet peaceful acceptance.

it seemed that all of us but our ever consistent baby behaved differently en route, gradually admitting to ourselves how much we miss living there and how right it feels to return.

we eventually arrived and unpacked- some baggage too. it was unintentional but the air, heavy with moisture, met my face and the release was immediate. then, on wednesday, a few days in, the release deepened. just like in yoga when the pose is enhanced by your breath alone.

my big boy had asked me on a date to the beach, just me and him, you see, and we went of course. he and i can’t get enough of that air- it brings us both to who we wish we could be, i think. he was down the path and soon knee deep in the water, and i, standing tall and facing the roar, was immediately overwhelmed with the sight of him free and unrestricted. both of us, made fresh, made clear, in mere moments.

it’s always been this way for me. same goes for him.

we spent his maternity leave in tofino and with hours and hours a day with nothing to do but love him, we found ourselves on long beach walks, almost everyday. not for nothing, either. tightly wound and full of complaint inside, my baby boy relaxed seconds after we closed the front door behind us, as did i. regardless of the weather, often near tempest, we were there, usually first thing in the morning before our moods could get ahead of us.

i remember walking with him mid winter in torrential rain, me in full rain gear and his stroller encased: a safe haven against the elements and his mother’s angst while she was making sense of her new life. it wasn’t an easy time. my first son was sensitive and particular and a lot of effort was required of me to keep his wails away. i sorted us both out over time, especially when i built in the beach ceremony- with waves and blood pulsing it all made sense somehow and i came to measure my parenting success on any one day if i achieved him getting rosy cheeks.

on crazy days, i thought that if he could face and take in enough of the storm that he’d be healthy, well raised, though i still don’t really know the details why. regardless, pushing him before me did us both good. i always returned from the treks breathing heavy and legs tingling, all my inner tumultuousness quieted by the louder chaos outside, and our days were calmer together, and brighter, optimistic even, having already conquered something, anything, that day.

this date day, all these years later, he was before me again. he had the same eyes, same look, and same vibe as he did when he was the most compact and intense version of himself but he’s matured so much now, and so have i. we made it. we made it through the dark, both emotional and literal, as tofino winters are not known to be luminous, and we made it all the way to another gorgeous life joining us on our journey of being born a family.

our morning at the beach was too soon over and, before we knew it, we all found ourselves on the ride home- marked by satisfaction and fatigue.

“are we there yet?”, he asked as we drove towards our permanent home. “i think so”, i answered.

May 24, 2013

paying for it

i don’t believe in fate: it’s too passive, too deterministic, too lazy.

fate based perspectives leave no room for agency, it dismisses the role of intent, of effort, of contribution. worse, it takes politics out of the dialogue, it allows no scrutiny of social injustice, of oppression, of abuse.

i don’t believe in fate.

this said, it wasn’t but a few days after i re-established myself as a runner that i fell down the stairs and sprained both my ankles, badly. my left toe bruised so deeply i was sent for x-rays to confirm the suspicion that it was broken; my arches purple from strain; my achilles swollen, tender to touch.

i was rendered disabled, not from daily life, thank goodness, but from running. after weeks of not running when i had the chance, now i couldn’t. i had the luxury of choice revoked.

like fate, i don’t believe in Karma: people don’t always get what we deserve.
i, however, did.