Egg-free cup cakes

For the big boy's birthday party yesterday - I whipped up a batch of egg-free cupcakes that came out pretty well - so I thought I'd share the recipe for any fellow allergy sufferers. Enjoy!

1 box vanilla cake mix (lazy mama)
1/2 cup ricotta cheese
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1 cup milk
1-2 tbs lemon zest (however much you can get off one lemon)
1 tsp vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Combine all ingredients and beat on medium speed for 2 minutes. Line cupcake pans with paper liners - you must make 24 cupcakes and fill the cups only 1/2 full. The cupcakes are on the small side, but without the egg the cake doesn't have enough structure to support an oversized cupcake. If they rise up too high over the top of the cupcake mold you get a bit of a pancake on top of your cupcake (which tastes fine but isn't ... ahem... exactly the look one is going for, right?)
Bake 18-22 minutes. Allow cupcakes to cool inside the cupcake pan.




You think he liked it?



Now what?

Now that the big birthday has come and gone (although additional partying will occur this weekend, of course) what do we do now?

Well we do a little rock climbing.

Perhaps a future as a Sherpa.

We do a little "work" in the kitchen.

Check out the trail of chaos behind him.

We wear soap-suds-beards.

Sweet comb-over.

We attempt to wrangle the Christmas decorations back into the attic.

This tangle of lights originally fit in this box.

There are successes.

Yes!

And failures.

This box ended up in recycling, the lights I
wrestled into submission with plastic zip ties.

And of course we clean and make plans for a certain birthday party this weekend. I believe there will be a cake with hockey players adorning it. Shh.

Happy Friday!

If you are visiting from SouleMama's {This Moment} please feel free to leave a link to your moment in the comments!

Anothah trip tah Bah-stin

We took the birthday boy and his wee brother to the New England Aquarium. It was awesome. Unfortunately, as you know my camera is deceased so I could only take photos with my cell phone. Please pardon the crummy photo quality (the good news is, my new camera ARRIVED this afternoon). Yes!

First of all, I am sick - so I packed some feel-good supplies.

A mama had to rally - it was her boy's big day!

Right off the bat, the place was a huge hit - the seals out front rocked the big boy's world. "Just wike Seal Maiden!"

The seals are my favorite part, too. They're so freakin' cute!

We strolled around checking out the penguins, fishies and turtles. The best part was his comment at the jellyfish tank:
"What are they doing, bud?" I ask - pointing to the undulating jellies.
"Dey squishin'."

God, he's cute.

There was lunch out at the Hard Rock Cafe and then the boy requested munchkins and hockey to round out his day.

As a side note, while we waited at the drive-thru to order our munchkins we heard this conversation occur, between the woman in the car in front of us and the poor drive-thru employee, and I quote:
"Could I have a large, black coffee. Regular. With cream only."
Pause.
"So that's a large, hot coffee. Umm?" says befuddled employee.
"With cream. No sugar." says obviously-not-from-around-here-driver.
Hubs and I order our munchkins and then make fun of the driver when we get to the window.
"I'm not sure how you managed to get that woman's order right," says Hubs, "She was obviously confused."
I thought the teenager might actually lean out the customer-service-window and kiss Hubs, "I know, right?!"

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, the birthday. It rocked.




Just ask him.



Happy Birthday

A letter to my big boy, on his third birthday.

Dear Bub,

I can't believe we're here already. My  big boy's turning three.

On Thursday you'll start solo swimming lessons. Next fall you'll be off to pre-school. You can hit a slap shot right past me, and you throw a whiffle ball more accurately than I ever could.

You are this remarkable little boy. You make me laugh. You've taught me more about love in your three short years than I had learned in the twenty-eight previous.

Motherhood has not been easy for me. Patience is not a virtue that I have in excess. I know that I'll have much to apologize for, and I'll happily pay for your years of psychotherapy.  I'm doing the best I can, and learning as I go. I'm trying really, really hard - I swear.

Though I am working so hard, the reality is, I am learning more from you than you are learning from me. I hear you in your crib every morning laughing, singing, recounting one of the hundred or so storybooks you have memorized - you greet the day with joy. Every day.

You are quick to laugh, and even quicker to forgive.

The things I want to teach you are so simple.
Life is good.
Love unconditionally.
It's more important to be happy than right.
You already seem to know all of it, and I am discovering that it is my job to help you grow up without destroying that underlying goodness and knowledge.

All I would ever want for you - it's already there. I just have to nourish it. Protect and encourage. Then let go.

I know you'll fly higher than I could ever dream, because you already have.

You are a miracle. The best gift I have ever been given.

It is an honor to share a portion of your life - I hope I can do you proud. Of all the things I do in my life - mothering will be my greatest achievement. The hardest work I've ever done, and the most profoundly important undertaking I've ever been a part of.

Now I'll shower your with presents and cake - you deserve the best birthday, ever. But you want to know a secret? You're the gift. You. A gift to all of us who get to know you - and that's why we celebrate.

Happy Birthday.

Love,
Mama




Photo by Derek



A birth story

Three years ago today, I was still still pregnant. I didn't know it would be the last day though. I had fleeting thoughts that I might just stay pregnant forever. I was so worried about labor and delivery - so clueless about the journey I was about to embark on.

 It's funny how this birth story is much more my story than his. All the details permanently etched not only in my mind, but seared into my soul, and visible on my body. To him, his birth will be a story that he is told - he'll know the pertinent details (day, time, weight, length - the harrowing ride through the snow) but this story is really mine.  My life will always be divided into before and after that day three years ago.




Is he a baby or a little old man?

My pregnancy was easy and uneventful. I loved being pregnant. I felt great, never threw up or even had swollen ankles.  I continued to work in labor and delivery until a week before my due date, watching the myriad of ways other women birthed and wondering how I would do.

I'll spare you the details of how my beloved midwife jump started my labor and spared me the induction by pitocin - but I will tell you castor oil worked for me. And, I'll never drink another smoothie from Dunkin's again. In my life.

I labored at home for several hours, knitting and watching Harry Potter. When things kicked in to high gear - we drove on icy January roads the 25 minutes to the hospital. I was cared for by my very own co-workers and there were lots of laughs when we turned on "Eye of the tiger" when it was time to push.

Don't hate me but I am blessed with a wide pelvis and only pushed a few times. My beloved midwife helped Hubs catch his firstborn son.

He was wee. Six pounds nine ounces.

He took us to Children's Hospital in Boston to rule out a bowel obstruction, but he was fine. A mother's first lesson in true fear, and how the maternal instinct to protect a child is so strong I could have fought off a bear, but instead I had to hand him over to strangers and plug myself in to a breast pump.




The biggest kid in the NICU.

And that's the story. We came home a few days later, a family.




At long last, a mother.
I had no freakin' clue what I was getting myself into.



Birthday week

Three years ago today, I was still pregnant. Three days overdue. Huge and miserable. In the midst of trying every conceivable method to coerce my reticent baby to make his appearance.

In just a few days, my baby will turn three. Three.

Every time I try to write about this, I get a prickly panicky feeling and end up staring at a blank screen. So I decided to start slow and write a little something about the big day a few days in advance.

But how to quiet that oh my god he's getting so big - I'm getting so old - how is it that life is whizzing by at mach ten - panicky feeling? With cuddly pajamas of course!

Here is a pajama photo montage of the big boy, through his 2.9 years.

Wee pajama laden baby. As a January baby of a first time mama, he wore a hat (even indoors) until June. 

His poor brother only gets a hat when it's below zero.

He was a chunk-a-monkey, with straight wispy baby hair, who never ever slept.



Who needs sleep?


He walked early - around nine months, but didn't have much to say until he was about two. His first word? "Shoe"

Weebles wobble but they don't fall down.



Then suddenly, his brother arrived and in an instant - he was a big boy.



Big brother.

Before my eyes - he blossomed into a bat-swinging, ball-throwing, ice cream loving two year old.



Did someone say ice cream?

Now as we approach his third birthday, I can't help but be awed by his transformation. And to think, we're only just beginning to see the boy (and someday the man) he will become.

Never too big for footie pj's.

There now, with the help of cozy-comfy footie pj's I have broached the subject - my big boy is turning three this week.  He's starting to bank memories that he'll actually be able to recall with understanding. Now it's my job to make sure this birthday is a good memory.

That's a pretty good summary of my job here - to load him up with good memories - unfortunately I get so bogged down in the every day struggles over diaper changes, hitting, and tantrums that I lose sight of that particular facet of motherhood. The milestone that this birthday provides gives me some perspective on just how fast this opportunity will disappear.

Soup Beans

Because I am sick with a horrible cold, I thought I would share this "recipe" for an amazing pot of black-eyed-peas I made this week, with our portion of leftover Christmas ham. This is serious comfort food, and will definitely cure what ails you (or at least help you survive what's ailing you).

Here we go - and never forget:
Guesstimate.
Approximate.
Taste.

1/2  bag dried black eyed peas
1 green pepper
1 medium onion (any color)
2 large carrots
2 large stalks celery
3 large cloves garlic
2-3 cups ham
1 small can fire roasted tomatoes (drained)
1 large can reduced sodium chicken stock
garlic powder
onion powder
cumin
pepper


Soak your peas overnight (in the fridge) in enough water to cover. Or follow the boiling method on the bag. Drain, rinse, and inspect for rocks. Set aside.

Cut your veggies into bite size pieces, and mince the garlic. In your favorite soup pot heat up some olive oil and saute the veggies until they soften, then add the garlic and cook an additional minute or two.
Dice up the ham and add it to the pot.
Then add the peas and the entire can of chicken stock.
Season to your liking - I probably did a scant teaspoon of everything I listed. No additional salt at this point  though, taste for it at the end.
Bring to a boil then reduce to a simmer and cook until the peas reach your desired degree of doneness, at least an hour. Put the lid on, but propped open a little with a wooden spoon (you know what I mean?). I think I let them simmer for 3 hours or so and they were nice and soft. Stir occasionally and add water if you need additional liquid.
When you are ready to serve add the drained can of tomatoes and stir.
Serve with crusty bread and woah - this is a seriously good, homey, cheap dinner.

Stay warm and hope you didn't catch this cold by visiting the blog. Go wash your hands.