packing!

What was once a playroom is now our life in boxes. 

and bubble wrap. ;) 

 Just a few favorite toys left out. 

(and a little boy rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. I didn't pack him yet, of course.)

See all of those cupboards? Empty! 

I am excited about this transition, can you tell? ;) As I told a friend, I am like an atomic bomb of joy! I am excited about this adventure, this new chapter of our lives, and am really motivated to get our things all packed up and ready to go. I also don't do well with prolonged suspense. I really hate prolonged suspense, actually. It's for the birds. 

happy is...

In three weeks, we make the Big Move!

In three weeks, I get to move into my "own" (rented) three bedroom, two bathroom, laundry-inside-the-house home, five minutes down the road from one of my most kindred of friends.

For me, this move has a deep sense of fulfillment and destiny, as I've been driving through and visiting this little town since I was thirteen or fourteen years old. Because of his love of southern Arizona, my dad tried with all his might to buy land and move us down toward Willcox, or Sierra Vista, or anywhere that he could have land, cows, and a garden. At the ripe old age of eighteen I caught his desire, and started saving toward a down-payment on an acreage I had yet to find. But all of that was not to be. Our plannings all fell through, and my parents instead bought a house in Mesa, while I attended culinary school to learn more about a trade I loved; we also started going to the church where I first met Zao's Daddy. So it was all, indeed, quite serendipitous.

Since we've been married, Zao's Daddy and I have had no shortage of hankerings to leave Phoenix, and have schemed for probably the past two years how to move ourselves "eventually." We liked Tucson, and visiting our friends in southern Arizona, so that was one of the locales we entertained. Zao's Daddy dreamed about even being able to transfer down there, thus not even having to look for or change jobs.

His speculations came to pass this January, when that very position came available, and he applied for the transfer. By the time we had our tax return, we knew that we would be moving to Tucson. As more time passed and we prepared to go and look for rentals, Zao's Daddy learned that his "area" wasn't in Tucson proper or its outskirts as we'd originally thought, but was in fact all of southern Arizona: Benson, Willcox, Bisbee, Sierra Vista, et al. This opened our search for housing quite a bit, and we were especially excited to look into Benson, as we have long-time, dear friends that live there.

We found our house that first night. It is the first we saw that had everything on our "list" and more. It is privately owned, and we really like our landlords. They are good people, and seem very happy to rent to our little family.

We are really excited to live in a small town, and though it certainly has its own set of challenges and changes to which we'll have to become accustomed, I feel very equal to the change. Other than my time spent here in the Phoenix area, I have been a country mouse all my life. The clean air and quiet life are especially calling out to me again.

I will be chronicling our transition here as I can. I have a little bit to do around the house during the next few weeks. ;)

Musings

Both of my babies have been born at home. Born into water, into the hands of generous souls who felt the weight of the privilege they were catching. The same midwife attended both of their births, provided me with excellent, caring prenatal care, and now that we are moving away there is a bittersweet twinge to the realization that she will not be present for any future births. But it's just a twinge, only a twinge, not because I don't value her, but rather because she has empowered me.

I love midwives, and doulas. I know so many, and am so ridiculously fortunate to know so many! I have learned so much from them, about this rite of passage called childbirth. I have learned fathoms about what it means to be a woman, not just a mother, but a woman. I look at this creature I am, this Woman Creature, with awe and pride, respect and admiration, and it's all their fault.

Before I had children, I didn't really understand that giving birth was my birth right, and that it was my decision, my right, to choose who attended that birth, and who provided me with care. I had no idea that I had the right to change that care provider at any time, for any reason. I didn't understand until I was in the middle of pregnancy that there can be no poking, no prodding, no anything without my consent. I didn't realize, until my midwife told me, that I had power. I thought pregnancy and childbirth weakened a woman, spread her hips and changed her body, sometimes irreversibly. I assumed it put me at the mercy of doctors, or midwives, and their "greater" knowledge, because of course they would know better than me what's best. I prayed and hoped for a good experience. I received education and empowerment.

I heard over and over and over again from my midwife that she works for me. She reiterated countless times that attending the event of me birthing my baby was a privilege and an honor for her. With every test available throughout pregnancy, she presented it as an option, along with any information and education I may need or desire. These things were my choice; no one can make you take the glucose test. You choose to take that test, or you choose not to. No one can make you have an ultrasound. You choose what your body, and the body of the life within you, is exposed to. Again and again, the power was put back into my hands. Over and over, until now I know it for myself indubitably, she enforced that I can and will make the decisions regarding my pregnancies and births, and I will make good decisions based on information and education.

I want this to be every woman's experience, not just with childbirth, although I especially and very deeply want it for birth. I want every woman to have an attending care provider, be they doctor or midwife, who realizes what a privilege it is to witness birth, to watch this woman who has been in their care become a mother, right before their eyes, and sees some part of the sacred awesomeness of that. Who sees that to be a birthing woman is to be both powerful and vulnerable, but never weak.

I want this especially for my daughter. If she chooses to have children, I want her to understand above all that how and where she births, and who is there with her, is her choice. That her body is still her property, and not a guinea pig, neither a broken, inadequate vessel. I want her to walk in her power.


Honestly, I don't know where this is all coming from, or why. Many articles have been crossing my path lately that just simply break my heart, and I needed an outlet. Women are being mistreated, in varying ways, none of them new, just the same lame game over and over. Woman being pitted against woman. Women being told they are broken when they aren't, women being lied to, being put in place that isn't theirs, or anyone's. It just isn't right.

If you happen to be pregnant, or thinking of becoming pregnant, and are reading this, I encourage you to choose a care provider who respects women, who will educate and empower you as a woman and a mother. If you can't find one, then please hire a doula, and learn all you can. Take back and walk in your power.

simple chocolate mousse

When I was growing up, my mom always did something special for Valentine's Day, for we kids and for our dad. Be it a special meal, dessert, homemade valentine's cards, the day never passed unrecognized. She spoiled us, and taught me the great value of homemade displays of love. 

Probably because of this, I cannot let the day pass unrecognized for my little family. I am not good at buying gifts for my sweeties, that expertise lies with Zao's Daddy. He bought me all my favorite flowers. simper! gush!

He knows just how to get me, too. He brought them home the evening before Valentine's Day, "just-because-it's-Wednesday-flowers" he called them. Simper and gush, all over again! :-)

I upgraded our planned pot roast dinner a level or two. Pot roast and oven-roasted broccoli as planned, with grain-free, coconut flour biscuits a la Red Lobster's cheddar wheat bombs, finished off with chocolate mousse. I feel as though I never make dessert anymore, so this was indeed a treat. Zao's Daddy added the flair of orange-flavored effervescent mineral water in champagne flutes. We are high-rollers.

Zao's Mom's Simple Chocolate Mousse

ingredients

4 ounces dark chocolate (I used Lindt 85% dark, as it is soy free, and yummy.)
1 tablespoon sugar, or 2 tablespoons honey (optional: add if you desire a sweeter end product.)
3 egg yolks
5 egg whites
1/4 cup chopped roasted salted pecans
zest of 1 orange, minced

method

1. Melt the chocolate in a double boiler over medium-low heat. Remove from heat and add the sugar or honey, if using.
2. Stir well, and add yolks one at a time, mixing after each addition.
3. Beat egg whites to stiff peaks. Gently fold in the whites to the chocolate-egg yolk emulsion.
4. Fold in any add-ins, such as chopped nuts, dried fruit, orange zest, cayenne pepper, or cinnamon.
5. Pour into ramekins, bowls, or demitasse cups. Chill at least 4 hours, garnish with a dollop of sweetened whipped cream, nuts, chocolate shavings, whatever strikes your fancy, and serve.

because it's cute

Saturday night we braved the mall to make a return, only to discover once we were there that we'd forgotten the stroller at home. Baby (toddler!) wearing to the rescue! I was glad I kept our carriers stashed in the car: Zao can only walk along with us for so long, and when - when, not if - he chooses to run off and investigate something, he is fast. Having some structure to corral him, and grant him respite once he's tired from walking/running, makes for an easier trip for everyone.

Zao's Daddy is giving me that look of "I'm not especially happy that you are taking my picture right now..." :) But they were so cute, I couldn't help myself.

cake morning

I've gathered the necessaries around me, soon the cake will be done. 

For now the house and the world outside are quiet. 

Chocolate and sugar, eggs and flour; confectionary creation I delight in your chemistry. 

It isn't the art of cakes that I enjoy, truthfully. It's the science behind it, the structure beneath the pretty finish. The composition of flavors, the creation of a cloud of marshmallowy chocolate from such humble things as eggs and sugar cane and cacao.

I'm laughing at myself, because I'm still such a science nerd. But a science nerd that makes a really good cake! ;)

What did your morning look like?

counting

I am a lazy parent. Zao doesn't know numbers or letters or shapes or colors. At least, not that he's indicated yet. I will mention that a particular car is red (sometimes), or that he has two feet (sometimes), but I don't drill him on, well, anything. 

Last night while Zao's Daddy and I were watching tv and just hanging out with the kids, Zao started hauling the tangelos from their basket on the kitchen shelf to the arm of the couch, lining them up and stacking them, as you can see in the pictures below. He mimicked the incantation of my voice counting out numbers, and he counted the tangelos. After counting, he'd run (I mean run) back into the kitchen, grab another one, run back, line it up, and count again. Such fun!

line 'em up 

count 'em out

counting is fun! especially when Mommy counts with you. 

I realized, watching him play this game, that counting is a game, not true evidence of intelligence or smarts. The smarts have always been there. As a parent, I have fallen into this trap of being concerned that my child is going to be smart, and wringing my hands when he can't show off how smart he is so that other parents can see what a good parent I am. (Did that make sense? I'm just getting this off my chest, so bear with me if it's coming out jumbled.) I fully believe I was blessed with the independent, autarchical person of Zao, who refuses to "dance, monkey, dance," so that I can get over worrying what people think about me. Being Zao's Mama isn't about me at all. It's about Zao. His struggles and his successes in life and learning are uniquely his own, and separate from me.

He is smart, because he is a human. He can think, and process information, and adapt, and evolve as he gains that information. He possesses all the necessary faculties to observe the world and learn how it works. At the very basest level, I do not teach him anything. I cannot make the wires cross or connect as needed in his noggin. He teaches himself.

I loved bearing witness to this last night, and I love that he desired my involvement, literally taking my hand and encouraging me to count the tangelos. "See, it's fun, Mom! Do it with me!" 

I can lead, and guide, and live out examples (gulp), but last night's tangelo-counting fun reminded me that if anything, I am more an escort into the world of learning, than a teacher.


“We can best help children learn, not by deciding what we think they should learn and thinking of ingenious ways to teach it to them, but by making the world, as far as we can, accessible to them, paying serious attention to what they do, answering their questions -- if they have any -- and helping them explore the things they are most interested in.” 

― John Holt