The FLU and an explanation for my absence

Three days laying on the sofa can make a person introspective.  Once I've exhausted the finite number of episodes of "Call the Midwife," there's nothing left but to think.  I don't do well with too much time to ruminate about life's imponderables, it has a tendency to blow my mind then make me anxious. I've always had a bent towards the melodramatic, from the age when skinned knees were akin to amputations right up to full mourning for a break up. It shouldn't surprise me, then, that when I have the flu I always without fail, think I'm dying. I tearfully tell my husband there is something very very wrong with me.  I pitifully ask for a glass of gingerale and an ice pack cherishing them both as if they were my last meal.

Something about this flu seemed even more pathetic. As I lay on the sofa fully immersed in my misery, I was aware that I had a daughter to take care of.  I heard her being brought home from the babysitter's and being given her bath.  I was forbidden by my germ phobic husband to have contact with her, so I waved at her as she was wisked off to have her diaper changed.  Perhaps most traumatizing was listening to her tears when she was being put to bed without our nightly nursing ritual.  I didn't have the strength nor the desire to pass on my germs, so I listened to her cry.

Being a parent makes everything just a bit more special and a bit more difficult.  Eventually the flu made it's rounds through our family.  First the projectile vomit of Callah where I spent two hours wiping the floor, Callah and me up and waiting for the next eruption.  She felt fine the next day, but by that time my husband was laid out flat for two days.  Remarkably that was the first such experience for us and although it was a rough week, we survived it and all still love each other.

The flu and spring break explain why I have been so remiss about posting on my blog lately.  I hope to get a few more posts and pictures of the last few weeks up shortly.  In the meantime, I plan to relish the spring and enjoy the health of my family!

My Blog's New Focus- the Imperfect Life

 You may have noticed my blog has a new tag line, "Perfectly Imperfect."  The other day as I was stumbleupon-ing my way through the Internet I came across a website that detailed, across pages and pages of text, how to clean your house each week.  My first thought as I read it was, "ooooh I should do this."  My second thought was, "what the hell?"  I relish my role as wife, mother and keeper of the home above all other things in my life, but come on! Weekly toothbrush scrubbing between tiles in the bathroom?  I'm not doing that.  Probably ever, most certainly not weekly.

It's a common theme across the web; blog after blog of home baked goodies, intricate meals, hand knit sweaters, decoupaged end tables and mobiles made out of paint samples (5 of them, yo).  And I'm not knocking them, I admire these people whole-heartily, I just can't do it.

My hope for this blog is a place where you can find meal plans, parenting and working mom stories, something to think about or if nothing else a sense of superiority to my woeful attempts to knit Callah a sweater or make dinner every night.

Eventually I'd like to have horizontal tabs organized by cooking posts or mommy posts, but true to the nature of my blog, I'm not there yet.  In the meantime, stick with me as I embark on a blogging adventure fraught with mistakes and imperfections!

From Baby to Little Girl- the birth of a person

Today I twisted Callah's thin hair into a teensy pony tail on top of her head.  That and her jeans, sneakers and sweater morphed her from baby to little girl.  It's hard not become nostalgic for the sleepy infant born almost a year and a half ago.  

Once you have a child your life quickly becomes separated into two parts--after kid and before kid.  Suddenly things that seemed important before she was born drop into oblivion.

My husband is writing a blog about photography and his last post talked about the feeling he wants a photograph to convey (http://wphotographicdesign.blogspot.com/).  In this picture taken immediately after Callah's birth I am brought back to the moment the doctor held her up to me and said, "do you see what you had?"  In the emotion of the moment I felt a rush of panic.  This is a test!! Don't fail.  Ok, it's ok, this is a girl.  Right, a girl?  I looked at my husband and he nodded his head.  Phew, passed.

Just a few hours before she was placed into my arms for the first time, I was sitting at home on the couch watching family members read the names of loved ones who died in the World Trade Center.  It was September 11, 2011 the ten year anniversary of 9-11.

Since Callah's due date was still a week away, my brain, novice in the ways of childbirth didn't recognize what was going on in my body as early labor.  I sat on the sofa and sobbed--for the victims and for their families.  By eleven that morning we were on our way to the hospital.  After a terrifying few minutes in which my room suddenly filled with five people talking anxiously about heart rates, I had an oxygen mask on my face and was wheeled through the hallway to a birthing room.

As seems to be the theme with most birth stories I read, the day didn't go how I planned it in my head.  I had made a carefully researched play list, intended to labor on the exercise ball and in the bath.  Nick and I thought we'd play Scrabble (ha) as we waited to go to the hospital.  Our classes told us labor could last days and we would most likely be at home in the early stages of labor for 8 hours.  As it happened we left our bag in the car and Nick was afraid he wouldn't have time to run and get the camera before our baby was born!  Needless to say the ipod and exercise ball were completely forgotten.

I don't want to ever forget the amazing day Callah Mackenzie Woods was born.  Although she shares her birthday with an infamous and sad anniversary, I hope that she, like the meaning of her beautiful first name will bring peace into the world.

All grown up.

The Zoo

What is a really good idea is to go to the zoo late on a Sunday afternoon in February.  

While it's true that the bears are hibernating and I couldn't locate the flamingos anywhere...

The tigers and jelly fish were awake.

The buildings were empty save the animals and a little girl in a bear suit.

We had a great time!

My Grandma's Homemade Macaroni & Cheese

Callah's middle name is Mackenzie named for my Grandma Scott whose name was Mary Cameron Mackenzie.  Later she became a Scott when she married my grandfather.  When I found out I was pregnant I knew if I had a girl I wanted to name her after one of my amazing grandma's.  I had two lovely names to chose from; my dad's mom is named Frances June which I think is beautiful.

Callah's cheesy smile for our morning cooking macaroni and CHEESE, of course.

My Grandma Scott died when I was 23, I hadn't met my husband yet, started my career, or even considered having children.  When I remember my grandma I think about crossword puzzles, laughter, ice cream, cooking shows, clip on earings and blueberry muffins.

Upstairs in my Grandpa's house are dozens of diaries that my Grandma kept.  Nearly one for every year of her married life.  This summer I flipped to my birthday and smiled at the hastily written entry, "Ann Cameron Watson born around tea time."  She used those diaries to write her book--part cookbook/part memoir, which she self-published and sold at church functions.  The cover below shows the parsonage my mom grew up in, as illustrated by my Uncle MacKenzie.

I have one copy inscribed "to my darling granddaughter Ann," which is precious to me.  It has blueberry and oil stains, pencil marks scribbled in the margins, the pages are dog-eared and well read.  This morning I turned to one of our favorite recipes: macaroni and cheese.  Over the years I have strayed from grandma's recipe, adding paprika, vegetables, chicken stock, and ham.  But my husband never thanks me for these changes and most recently I stick verbatim to her recipe (just as she would want me to do).

Here it is (for 12-14 servings):
3 cups elbow macaroni
6 Tablespoons butter
6 Tablespoons flour
4 cups milk
4 cups grated cheese

Topping:
4 Tablespoons melted butter
1 1/2 cup dry bread crumbs

Cook the elbow macaroni according to package (about 6 and a half minutes for al dente).  Then melt the butter.

Add the flour to make a roux.

Add the milk slowly and allow it to warm up, but not boil.

Add the cheese and cook over medium-high heat until it is melted.

Add the cooked macaroni and (if you're clever like me) pop it into the fridge until you're ready to bake it.  The breadcrumbs are simple.  Just tear up some old bread, add melted butter and crumble all over the top of the macaroni.  Throw it all in the oven at 350 degrees for about 40 minutes.  I use my big old everyday pan, but a 9 X 13 works great too.

Nick is frying chicken tonight, and although my grandma usually served this with a baked ham, I still think she would be pleased that her memories, recipes, and name live on in our home.