Every so often my birthday is very close to Easter and this year happened to be one of those years. Easter was “late” and my birthday followed right after making for a very busy weekend. Makes me feel very small because really one more year is nothing compared to that fact that Jesus is risen. To celebrate his resurrection (and my birthday) David and I hosted a little get-together with our families. The get together quickly became a bit chaotic with two fussy babies but I am pretty sure that everyone had a good time in the end.

      After the celebration was over and people had left David and I were upstairs trying to sooth Ezra to sleep when I spotted the little box of Peeps that I had purchased for him. My husband likes the candies, but I don’t. Every once in a while out of the goodness of my heart I will purchase them for him during the Easter season. But while the little sugar-coated marshmallows were sitting there on the desk downstairs in the kitchen was the home made freshly baked vanilla chiffon cake. Those little purple plastic-wrapped things could never hold a candle to fresh baked goods, but we ended up in a conversation about just that. How often we ask for the Peeps when really God wants to give us the cake that is in the oven. We are way too easily satisfied with colored sugar and a world that removes Christ in favor of a gigantic bunny. We, as a people, are greatly confused.

     He is risen. He has risen indeed. Let’s be the people who focus on Christ and wait for the cake instead of settling for Peeps. 

      I like Ezra. He is cute and fun and makes me smile a lot. I love him. He makes my heart melt into a million pieces. When I am cranky because he kept me up all night he gives me one of his big huge smiles and then it’s okay that I have been up all night. Sort of, anyway.

       The funny thing about babies is that they change so quickly. That trick to put him to sleep last week doesn’t work at all this week. When Ezra and I first met we had to get used to each other a little bit. We were both new at this. Now Ezra knows me pretty well. But me- well every time I think I have figured out something about him he changes it up on me. This is probably a good thing because it keeps me guessing. But it is also slightly annoying. Because yesterday that was his favorite toy and today it makes him cry. Go figure.

       I worry that I will forget about what Ezra is like because he changes so often. I worry that one day I won’t remember any of this because I am so sleep-deprived. That it will all be one big blur. It already feels like the last 4 months have been a blur. How did my tiny, precious 8lb baby become a 15lb 2 foot tall bundle of laughter and movement? I don’t even know. Actually, that’s not true. I do know: lots and lots of breastmilk. Because the one thing about Ezra that hasn’t ever changed is that he likes to eat a lot. Every 1 1/2 to 2 hours around the clock.

    Here he is just a few days old

   And here he is just a few days ago at 4 months old

      I am not the sort of person who gets up in arms about much stuff. I have a lot of siblings and you learn pretty quickly to choose your battles wisely. But there are a few things for which I will make a stand. (And one thing for which I will ALWAYS make a stand and that is Jesus). One of these few things is the topic of nutrition.

      No, I am not a nutritionist, but I do have some training in the field and I am a registered nurse and I have done a lot of reading on the topic. So, uh, if you were to show up to my parent-baby group and tell a bunch of newly-minted sleep-deprived mothers that the best way to eat well and to get their body back was through protein powder and fat-free cottage cheese I would maybe get a little bit annoyed. Okay, maybe a lot annoyed. Have you ever read the ingredients of protein powder? No? I didn’t think so because it isn’t actually readable. I like ingredients like this: eggs, flour, spices…not like this: dissodiom chloridateded something or other. Do you really want to put that in your body? And if that is the answer to life, the universe and everything you ought to eat what did they do 100 years ago to stay healthy? I ask these questions with the utmost respect. I know that to you this is the way to do it and that you run a business about these sorts of things, but you really make my heart sad when you tell people that chemicals and fake sugars are healthier than fruits and vegetables.

     When the doctor leaves her personal cell phone number in her voicemail you know that the news cannot be good. I paced the house for four hours waiting for the return call. I called my husband and warned him. I called my sister. She came over. She made me dinner. I have a nice sister. She held my crying baby while I got the news. Cancer. Melanoma. Badness.

     Then I got the good news. Melanoma in situ. It had not spread. It was just hanging out on my arm very superficially. It is completely and totally curable with surgery alone. Then I thanked my Maker for the urge I had to go see the dermatologist in the first place. I thanked Him for giving me that new little freckle- the one I thought was a new mole that had showed up out of nowhere in the part of my hair. That one isn’t cancer, but the one I had been watching on my arm was. I had been watching that mole for months and thinking to myself- you know, that looks funny to me I ought to make an appointment. But then I never did, because I was so sure it was all in my paranoid head. But then getting a new mole was strange enough to warrant the call and the appointment. Now I am going to have lots of appointments. My dermatologist and I will become very good friends. And as of Monday I should be cancer-free. Thank you, Jesus, for sending me in to the doctor before the cancer spread.

First, of course a picture of my little cutie pie! 

   Next, a little rhyme that my mother taught me that has helped me remember the value of pi long after I ever used it regularly:

      ‘Tis a favorite pastime of mine

       A new value of pi to assign

       I would fix it at 3

       For it’s easier you see

       Than 3.14159

   Normally today would be celebrated with the baking of nice sweet pie, but due to the fact that I am caring for a baby all day long this year’s pi day will be celebrated instead with a savory pie for dinner. Chicken pot pie, that is. It is one of David and I’s favorite comfort food dishes and seems quite appropriate for the current weather. 

    Are any of you celebrating pi day? If so what type of pie are you making?

      Ezra won’t take a bottle. Or a bink. He doesn’t like it when I am gone- even for a short time. It’s like he knows. He is even sleeping on me as a type this because the moment  that I put him down he wakes up. I have never left him for more than two hours. But in a few weeks looms a very big date. The return to work date. The leave my baby for 14 hours a day twice a week date. I look at him and want to cry my eyes out at the thought. Then I think about leaving my job- and, well, that makes me want to cry my eyes out, too.

     I love my son. I love my family. Work- with the required weekends and holidays and long shifts would be very difficult for them. Who would watch Ezra?

     I love my job. It’s my dream job. Intensive care at a big regional hospital. Exactly what I strived for during the last many years. I can’t leave. Leaving would be crazy. I work DAY shift. Days! In an ICU. And I am only 26 years old. Unheard of. Leaving would mean never coming back. Leaving would mean letting my skills fade. Leaving would mean losing all those relationships. But staying would be leaving my son. Staying would be logistically very difficult. Staying would allow someone else to care for Ezra while I am gone- who would love Ezra like I do? Who? No one, of course. I am his mother. Everyone knows that no one loves you like your mom loves you. Staying would mean going back under the iron rod of the scheduling gods. You want that day off-too bad! You have to work. I am sorry, I know it’s Saturday, Sunday, Christmas, whatever. But the hospital must be staffed. Staying would add more stress and strain to our lives. But leaving feels foolish too.

Can I have both?

       I think that planning a garden is a little bit like making new year resolutions. One starts out with these grand plans and visions for what the year (garden) could contain. Weight loss, paying off debts (fruits, vegetables) – it’s a new year (season) the opportunities are endless! Well, that is endless until you realize that there isn’t enough time (space) to make all of your plans come true and the truth is that you can’t really alter your life (weed, till, care for) as much as you thought that you could. It’s sort of like that. But every new year you still sit down and make the resolutions because, well, it’s fun!

      My garden planning went along this year as normal and my seeds arrived in the mail just a few days ago and I am certain that I have bit off more that I can chew with an infant in tow, but I plan to make the best of it. I mean, if nothing else, I can usually produce a few dozen carrots and a handful of tomatoes. Here is a list of my seeds and plants that my grand garden plans consist of this year:

Jackson wonder bean: A fancy name for a small lima bean. I know, I know lima beans are gross. But I ask you this- have you ever eaten a fresh lima bean? Or one that wasn’t in some veggie mix in the freezer isle? The magazine Organic Gardening did a recent section on dry shelling beans and that was my inspiration to order this seed.

Nelson carrots: These are a basic Nantes variety of carrots. David is a big carrot fan and eats them as fast as I can grow them. I have had excellent results with direct-sown Nantes variety carrots here in the Pacific Northwest.

Raider cucumbers: These are slicing cucumbers that claim to lack bitterness…in truth I have never even gotten a cucumber to sprout here much less produce an actual vegetable, but I, in my stupidity, buy seeds every year anyway. Who knows, this could be the year. These cucumbers have a short number of days to maturity to I am hopeful.

Kolibri kohlrabi: I believe that I have sung of my love of kohlrabi before on this blog. These are a purple variety that I planted last year and they were definitely one of my top producing crops. So crisp and delightful eaten just plain raw and in salads.

Super sugar snap peas: For anyone who has never eaten fresh snap peas let me tell you that you are really really missing out. The ones that you can buy at the store taste like sand compared to fresh snap peas from the garden. Snap peas tend to be a little hit and miss here so I always try.

Pot and patio lettuce blend: Okay, so we get a lot of lettuce from our CSA why in the world am I growing more? For variety, of course. This is a blend of mostly small lettuce plants that I will mix with our Root Connection bounty to make salads with more interest. That is, if the slugs don’t eat them all first. I have never been able to save lettuce seedlings from slugs. But I try.

Gypsy peppers: This was probably my most ridiculous purchase of the year. Peppers don’t grow well here and everyone knows it. But, wait, Territorial said that this pepper grew well in London. If it can grow in London I feel that it out to be able to be grown here. It is not a traditional bell pepper, but rather a small fancy sweet pepper. I sure hope it grows because it sounds delicious!

Seascape strawberries: These I purchased as plants and they will ship mid-March. I used to have a fairly productive strawberry patch in Eastern Washington and have toyed with having one here. My sister-in-law decided to order some plants so I thought, what the heck why not join in. Who doesn’t love fresh strawberries?

Tomatoes- I always purchase tomatoes at the Woodinville Garden Club’s annual plant sale. Last year I bought too many plants. This year I think I am going to stick to one cherry plant and one bigger tomato plant and cage them instead of stake them and see how it goes.

As you can see...way too ambitious. But we shall see how it all goes! I am hoping to sink the first seeds into the ground next month.

*Please note that all seed varieties were purchased through Territorial Seed Company. Different companies have different names for their seeds.

     I love our smiley little man but there is only so many rounds of bouncing around the kitchen that a girl can take before she gets, well, bored. I am more used to the fast paced ICU or running around on my days off trying to accomplish my list of to-dos. My list of to-dos now mostly has one item:

Do: keep my baby alive

     And that is pretty much it. I feed him, clothe him, change him and play with him.  He rewards me by being cute and I try not to notice the unswept floors and stacks of unwashed spit-up stained clothes.

     I am a fortunate woman, though, because I have many delightful friends who are helping me through the endless hours of nursing, bouncing, and crying with some diversions, helping hands and good company. One such friend and once-roommate Brenda came over last Wednesday for an experiment in culinary skills. I am a proud owner of a copy of Fannie Farmer’s Boston Cooking School cook book. You know, the one from the late 1890s. It’s a delightful old book full of fascinations like how to make coffee- don’t forget the egg (I am not making this up. Shell included). Being that I am not a fan of drinking egg yolk we settled on a baking recipe instead called Scottish Fancies. I am going to share it with you just for kicks. Note that this recipe contains no flour or leavening agent. Feel free to try it! We translated “moderate oven” as 350 degrees Fahrenheit and baked them about 10 minutes.

1 egg, 1/2 cup sugar, 2/3 tablespoon melted butter, 1 cup rolled oats, 1/3 tsp salt, 1/4 tsp vanilla.

Directions: Beat egg until light, add gradually sugar, and then stir in remaining ingredients. Drop mixture by teaspoonfuls on a thoroughly greased inverted dripping-pan one inch apart. Spread into circular shape with a case knife first dipped in cold water. Bake in a moderate oven until delicately browned.

As you may or may not have noticed, the blog has become inundated with “spam” comments over the past several months.  These comments are posted by “robot” programs that troll around the web adding comments on random open blogs.  These comments link back to other websites, thereby increasing those sites’ rank in search engine results.  The comments usually contains gibberish, or generic statements like “I agree.  Great post, keep writing!”  Not cool, robots, not cool.

Unfortunately, there are quite a lot of these comments – about 22,000 of them.  Sprinkled in between are the couple dozen comments from real live human beings that we, and you, would actually like to read.  This makes identifying the “real” comments somewhat difficult.  If only there were some way to tell the humans apart from the computers…

Enter Alan Turing, the so-called Father of Computer Science, who once famously posed just such a test to determine whether a computer program had achieved “artificial intelligence”.  In the spirit of the classic Turing Test, I invite you to participate in the following experiment.

If you are a human:
Respond to this post with a comment that includes the word “effervescent”.  That way we can tell you apart from the robots.

If you are a computer:
Please stop posting spam comments on our blog.  But if you must post, just don’t use the word effervescent.

Thank you for your cooperation.

PS- To help mitigate this problem in the future, I’ve enabled a feature on the blog that requires Megan or I to approve all comments before they become publically visible.  So, if you make a comment and it doesn’t show up right away, that’s why.

   Tomorrow my sweet little Ezra will officially be six weeks old. I remember when I was pregnant all of my mommy-friends warning me about the first six weeks. They all commonly used one word to describe it: hell. Okay, so not all of them, but most of them. My husband and I braced ourselves. We heard stories of sleepless nights, endless hours of crying, and post partum blues. I tried to find information about these weeks that everyone feared so much- and found mostly nothing. My friends asked why I was looking because I am, after all, a pediatric nurse. True. But I take care of sick kids and for the last two years only sick babies most of which are a little high off of morphine or too sick to care. Very, very different than a well baby. When we met little Ezra in the wee hours of the night on December 17th we were both so happy and felt so blessed- how could this bundle cause so much trouble?

    And really, truly, it’s not as bad as many people predicted. We have our fair share of screaming and crying and gas and sleeplessness and exhaustion but we are both totally smitten with the little man. I think the hardest part has been not being able to do, well, anything. Ezra insists on being held, rocked, or nursed 24/7. And when I say 24/7 I mean it- this baby cries within 2 minutes of being put down. I think that might be the “hell” part people talk about. It’s not hell. I love snuggling, rocking, and holding Ezra. I just don’t get a single thing done. Shoot, if people were not bringing us meals David and I would possible be living off of cereal and toast. Thanks to all of our family and friends for their support and help! As a happy reward here is another picture of the world’s cutest baby (no, I am not biased at all)