deep in the land of the CSA

This is the time of year when my to-do list starts to be mostly recipes centered around using up the vegetables and fruits that are flowing in our house. (Most of the other items on the list are some subset or variation of “clean house.”) When I have the time and energy, I find myself trying to knock out three or four items at once to stay on top of things: something baked, some kind of salad, and something for dinner are pretty typical. Earlier this week I tackled about half of the zucchini, turning it into muffins and fritters. I also used the cabbage to start homemade sauerkraut for the first time; I just couldn’t face more cabbage soup, as we are still working our way through last year’s freezer stash. The sauerkraut is still fermenting on the counter and won’t be ready for a few more days at the earliest, so I have no sense of whether it’s a success or not. Or rather, whether it’s edible: it’s a success either way since there is no longer a cabbage in my fridge! Yesterday I made two salads and yellow beans (with savory from our garden) for dinner. That was only a qualified success, since I had to buy tomatoes for one of the salads (it’s hard to find recipes using up cucumber that don’t also require tomatoes).

This is the crux of the challenge: using the vegetables you get without either too much supplementation or endless days of eating sliced cucumbers for lunch. There are some things I don’t mind getting, like the leek I use in the beet salad recipe. My partner is not a huge fan of the beet and we eat them only one of two ways, in the salad that requires a leek or roasted, the latter way not being really appropriate for the longest heat wave in local history. It pains me to buy tomatoes, though, since I know we’ll be getting more soon and I know the local heirloom ones that will start to appear at the market are vastly superior in all ways to what’s currently available, even at the local organic store. However, it also pains me to continually throw away food and we are coming off the second winter of doing so with the majority of our winter CSA. We just haven’t been able to stay on top of it since the sprout joined our family. Also, the types of vegetables we get in the winter are delicious when prepared well but not the sort that are easy or good raw; a large part of their appeal is the satisfaction of turning something bitter and kind of unappealing into a tasty meal. Which requires the creativity, energy, and time to turn something bitter and kind of unappealing into a tasty meal.

Now that the more amenable vegetables of summer are here, I’m determined to use them. This weekend’s list includes a blueberry pie (with gluten-free crust and lemon verbena from the garden), refrigerator pickles, another batch of beet salad, another batch of zucchini muffins, and possibly some rhubarb muffins if I haven’t left the rhubarb too long already. Probably also roasted potatoes one night, although there’s less time pressure to use the potatoes. Then on Tuesday it will be time to start the process over again.

Oh, and let’s not forget the effort to use up last year’s stores from the freezer, too!

deep in the land of the CSA

becoming the parent of a toddler

I can hardly believe the sprout is a year old, and yet he’s definitely turning into a toddler. He’s been practicing his tantrums, perfecting the art of going boneless and throwing himself onto the ground to sob when frustrated. Not very often, just frequently enough to let you know there’s no going back to the compliant baby stage. He’s also nearly walking running, standing well on his own and launching himself toward you as long as you’re within about 10 quick little steps. He finds something new to get into every day, although he has not yet turned out to be a climber *knock wood*.

Most notably, he’s starting to show distinctly toddleresque food preferences. Banana imported from Peru? Yes. Delicious chicken chili made from scratch with love and local organic veggies? No. Avocado imported from Mexico? Yes. Delicious homemade organic mushroom and barley stew with fresh thyme from the garden? Not so much. Applesauce? Yes. Brown rice and lentil stew? A few bites on a good day. Instant oatmeal? Definitely. Zucchini and millet with fresh basil? Haven’t tried it yet, but I’m pretty sure I know where this is heading. Hummus, peaches, enormous bites of apple just like Daddy takes that lead to mouth sweeps? Yup. Delicious and nutritious sweet potato in all its forms? Apparently a babyish delight that he gave up just in time for Rosh Hashanah.

I am trying to be a good sport and chalk this up to teething, taking time to warm up to new tastes, a renewed preference for nursing following a cold, and the desire to feed himself whenever possible. We are still working on finding appropriate finger foods while avoiding dairy and wheat, and that’s presenting a bit of a challenge; while we don’t seem to be dealing with true allergies, an intolerance that keeps us up all night with a writhing crying baby is not something we can ignore in good conscience. Still, I fear I am staring down the tunnel to fish fingers, and I’m not liking it. That won’t be happening any time soon, though, as there remains a whole mess of veggies to chop, dice, steam, roast, mash, and purée before we even consider throwing in the towel.

becoming the parent of a toddler

one year ago today

One year ago today I was in labor. All day, from contractions that started in earnest at midnight until the sprout was born at 11:58pm. While my water broke on the evening of the 15th, there is no doubt that the 16th is his Day Of Birth.

Despite all of the trying and hoping and planning, the classes and reading and shopping, I was not prepared to be having a baby. I like to think that was due to his arrival three weeks ahead of his due date, but the truth is that I probably would have felt completely out of my element at any time. Okay, yes, it would have been nice to not have missed the last class sessions that covered active labor, postpartum issues, and how to take care of your newborn, that probably would have helped a bit. Thankfully my partner had read ahead and we had two amazing midwives and an acupuncturist to help me through the rest of it. Emotionally, though, I am certain that some part of the reason my labor lasted 24 hours was my resistance to the reality that I was actually having a baby RIGHT NOW and was soon to cross over that line between my established comfortable life and my new unpredictable life as a mother. (I’m pretty sure the rest of the reason was the sprout’s elbow, which seemed to be lodged somewhere around my kidney for the duration of my labor, right until he arrived with his hand tucked up on his cheek.)

Yet with all of that swirling around, I knew that I could birth this baby the way I wanted to—in my home, in water, without interventions—and when the time came, I did. In the end, I was strong enough and I was able to connect with that knowledge and use it. There is a lovely quote by one of our midwives in a recent profile where she states her desire for women to understand that they are capable of handling birth because the strength of the contractions is nothing more than the strength of their own bodies. We are not separate from the process: birth is not something that happens to us. Birth is something that we do, or that our bodies do for us if we let them. When the sprout was finally born, I knew that it was time: he had been in there long enough, he was ready to come out, and it was my responsibility to make that happen. I did, and he was born into a pool of water in our home just before the next day arrived. He was tiny and blue and covered in cheesy vernix, and absolutely the most lovely little being my partner and I had ever seen. By effort and grace, we were among the lucky ones: I found the strength to make it to the end at home, and the sprout was just barely large enough to be full term and not need to be transferred for observation.

Despite being absolutely exhausted, I can still remember that first night so clearly. Holding him (I kept offering him to my partner, and our midwives kept reminding me that he needed to stay on my chest while he adjusted to being in the world), marveling at this tiny but feisty part of me that was now on the outside. Handing him over to be measured and weighed, assuring my partner from the other room that there were small outfits in the baby’s dresser drawer if he just kept looking (the sprout was still swimming in the smallest one they could find), and cradling him on my chest when we slept for the first time as a family of three.

And here we are, one year later. That tiny little baby is gone, and I can see how people end up with more (and more) children as I find myself missing that newborn, fiercely at times. Now we have an older baby who weighs nearly four times as much and is on the verge of becoming a young child, and I wouldn’t trade him for anything. He is delightful in so many new ways, and the fact that they are the same ways that every baby delights all parents takes absolutely nothing from the experience of watching him grow and become himself. So happy birthday, sprout. We’re glad you’re here.

one year ago today

getting the detergent reek out of thrift store clothing

It’s been years since I’ve shopped at thrift stores for myself; since October I have become addicted to thrifting for clothes for the baby. I keep saying I’m going to stop; what happens instead is that I just become more selective. Now that I’ve covered the basics, I look for better quality brands and focus on future sizes. Really, the sprout is going to just keep growing and growing so one could make an argument for buying things in all sizes. I’m not making that argument: I’m sticking with “soon I won’t have to shop at all for two years!” I’m not sure it’s any more convincing, but I’m running with it.

My only frustration with clothing from the thrift store (and even more with clothing from large consignment sales) is the smell. Not the musty smell, the “fragrance” smell from the high-octane detergents that people use on items that have been stored away for a season. (I suspect that the thrift store actually sprays one of those “freshener” sprays on everything rather than actually washing it all because the books sometimes have the same stink, but I don’t really know.) I end up having to soak everything I buy overnight in a borax and vinegar bath at least two nights in a row in order to bring the level of odor down enough to not stick to everything. I figure that if the chemicals in detergents give me migraines and itchy skin, they’re not doing anything great for the sprout; if it weren’t the rainy season, I’d take the extra step of airing everything on the drying rack in the sun.

This it’s-not-clean-until-it-reeks-of-something-artificial approach to washing clothes reflects a larger approach to home care that I don’t share. It’s quite the opposite for me (even with my nose reverting to its pre-pregnancy state, it’s still sensitive), and as a result I’ve learned what works without all the extra chemicals. For laundry, we use Seventh Generation’s fragrance-free non-petroleum-based detergent that contains enzymes to break down organic matter (and doesn’t contain optical brighteners). The enzymes are what you need to clean baby stains (and grass and food); stain-treating sprays contain them as do “baby” detergents. Since our detergent lists ingredients, I was able to see that it was basically the same as the baby version and decided not to switch; we also use a stick to spot treat for stains since the spray version is overwhelmingly smelly. In addition to detergent, I use borax in every load to help with odors and dinginess and chlorine-free bleach. Chlorine-free bleach turns out to be hydrogen peroxide (thank you, Seventh Generation labeling practices, for this information) which is the one thing that gets out blood rather than setting the stain (thank you, midwives, for this information).

This is all to say: it’s not necessary to dump a whole bunch of nasty smelling detergent into the wash to get your child’s clothing clean (even clean enough to sell)! Yes, I use three products in each load of laundry, but: the clothing comes out clean and smelling fresh, which for me means really not smelling at all. And, none of us go around sneezing or getting itchy rashes or headaches. It’s a bonus (to me) that the products themselves are non-toxic and made from plants rather than petroleum by-products.

As I said above, this is really the only downside to shopping for children’s clothing this way, as the prices are low and the quality is good. And, soon I won’t have to shop again for at least two years!

getting the detergent reek out of thrift store clothing

is this thing on?

Not only is it already March, but the month is nearly half over. Yikes! I got sucked into a black hole of sick household members and even less sleep than before that led me to not be able to type anything coherent but instead simply stare at the computer screen and try not to drool whenever I’ve had a couple of free moments to myself. I’ll try to do better.

What have you missed? I took the lazy man’s path and stopped doing the Dark Days Challenge when the host became unable to keep up with the round-ups due to circumstances in her own life. We continue to eat locally, I just am not making any effort to be creative or branch out from our regular recipes. I did plan to post about the soup I made in the summer that we recently ate from the freezer, and the recipe is this: make leek and potato soup, dilute with a bit more water, add pre-cooked chopped kale and a can of white beans at the end (and probably more salt; I use the mushroom seasoned salt that we get from our farmer). It’s good, and makes for more of a meal than regular leek and potato soup. I also made macaroons, since I was craving the ones I’d had in Portland with dried apricots, pecans, and a dark chocolate bottom. The macaroons were delicious, and I managed to make them last a whole week (!) by putting them in the freezer. I need to remember that option for future cookie cravings, because I love to make them but really don’t need to eat quite so many at a time.

What else? I managed to get outside and clean out the garden beds in the front of the house, so now the daffodil sprouts can actually see the sun. The crocuses are up, and I’m looking forward to seeing which daffodils bloom; you never know which ones will survive both the replanting and the hungry squirrels. I’ve been working on my garden plans for this year, but they really deserve their own post. (Stay tuned!)

Finally, politics are driving me a little nuts these days. On the local level, I was heartened by the way our surrounding neighborhoods embraced a rally in opposition to the Westboro Baptist Church (my favorite sign said, “Thanks for bringing the community together!). On the national and state level things are pretty sucktastic, as I don’t need to tell you because you’re an educated person who reads the news, right? Local delegates tried to play politics and sank Maryland’s equal marriage bill: I hope no one votes for anything those two people support for at least a decade (because I’m sleep-deprived, and that makes me surprisingly petty). All the money we have left after donating to NPR, Planned Parenthood, and the unions is being squirreled away so that we can live during the impending (Freudian slip: I nearly typed “impeding”) government shut-down. After using my energy taking care of the sprout, I have absolutely none left for filtering or using polite language: it’s gotten a little sailor-ish around these parts. Thank mother nature for oxytocin, I cannot imagine how much crabbier I would be about all of this without the mama hormones. (Of course, I’d have orders of magnitude more uninterrupted sleep, so maybe it would balance.)

And now: back to thinking about spring and daydreaming about the garden!

is this thing on?