While wandering the web to find out when I can expect girl flowers to show up on my zucchini plant, I came upon this article on ways to cook the flowers themselves. Wacky!
Sounds yummy! Here you go: Eating Well: Zucchini Flowers
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Phoebe Gleeson blogs about life, mothering, knitting, and stuff.
While wandering the web to find out when I can expect girl flowers to show up on my zucchini plant, I came upon this article on ways to cook the flowers themselves. Wacky!
Sounds yummy! Here you go: Eating Well: Zucchini Flowers
Today I have been peered at by…
A zucchini flower:
And our cat, Blanchard.
Can’t beat that!
ETA: Yep, he’s got one blue eye and one green one, and is likely deaf on the blue-eye side. The most common genetic cause for white cats with blue eyes also causes congenital deafness. (Not all white cats with blue eyes are deaf, but it’s a very good bet!)
I have to write this down now. I don’t want to forget it. Consider this rough scratch form
Bede:
is talking more and more. he asks for juice and other foods, including new formations, i.e., at my mom’s house he wanted the paint set opened, so he brought it to me and said “want paint?” He is also echoing speech in an imitative fashion, but to interact, not just to echo.
he sang the alphabet song today (not unusual) and sang the end bit, complete with “yay!” and clapping.
he played with Faith, interactively. they read his book together, which means after every word he reads, you are to say it back to him. he never does this with anyone but me or my mother, occasionally Sean.
he comes and tells me when something is “all gone”
he wants to start the DVD player many times a day. we have been telling him not to climb the television in order to accomplish this goal, which has had no effect. so I decided to instead try to get him to come to me when he wanted the movie started, and I would lift him up so he could press the button himself. it has had great success, reducing the television-climbing to about 25% of what it was, getting less every day. and just as important, he is communicating. he came to Sean to request being picked up to press play as well. (Sean didn’t know that he was doing that, I am so glad I was in the room so I could tell Sean that was Bede’s goal, thus ending it successfully)
he wanted juice, and we had had him in lidded cups for a day or two due to a re-tendency to balance the cup on the utmost edge of the table to drink from it (leading to many, many spills and screams) and when I offered him a lidded cup of juice he wouldn’t take it but instead sat it on the ground saying “bus! buuuus!” and crying. when I realized he was saying “Gilbert” and probably meant “I don’t want to drink from a cup like Gilbert’s cup” (which is to say, a lidded sippy cup), I said “You think that’s Gilbert’s cup. You want a different cup.” and he immediately stopped crying. I poured the juice into a regular cup and he drank it without incident.
Of these things, the “all gone” is perhaps the most thrilling to me, because he’s coming to tell me about something that he’s done, not just communicating to get something (which is also HUGE, just not as new as his skills go.)
Catarina was Henry’s first wife and was probably the only one of his six wives to truly love him. He tired of her, and she spent the last decade of her life in lonely exile. Yet when she was dying, alone and unloved, she wrote: “Lastly, I make this vow, that mine eyes desire thee above all things. Farewell.”
Which of Henry VIII’s wives are you?
this quiz was made by Lori Fury
Today, five years ago, my second daughter Abaigeal was born. She was born in the caul (auspicious!) and was our first homebirth. Abby has taught me that I really have no idea what I’m doing, that I’m winging it just like everyone else, and furthermore I need to get over any notion that I’m more important than anyone else is. A calm, easygoing person - until she isn’t! - Abaigeal is my link to the world of Might-Be-Could-Happen.
I love you, my darling daughter!
A photo tour of Abby is behing the cut:
NB: birth pictures, slightly gloopy, no nudity
tagged by whitecalx
FIVE ITEMS IN MY FRIDGE
1. Braum’s Yogurt (not organic, but no antibiotics or BGH!)
2. about 6 loaves of bread from the bakery thrift run yesterday
3. banona (bologna, in Bedeish)
4. one lone can of Coke
5. those chili beans that really need to be thrown out
FIVE ITEMS IN MY CLOSET
1. my yarn stash
2. kids’ winter coats
3. notice how
4. none of my
5. clothes are in there.
FIVE ITEMS IN MY CAR
1. Faith’s carseat
2. Abby’s carseat
3. Bede’s carseat
4. Gil’s carseat
5. Trixie’s carseat
FIVE ITEMS IN MY PURSE
1. I
2. don’t
3. carry
4. a
5. purse
I tag whoever hasn’t been tagged yet.
This won’t be long as the only thing duller than a garden blog from a novice gardener is one with no pictures. Yah, still no battery charger. I’ll ask Sean if he’s seen it.
My zuke is magnificent, and I can almost see it growing before my eyes. My pepper was hurt yesterday, partially uprooted, (I suspect our cat, Blanchard) but is doing much better this morning. And my tomato plant is still sad, but I hope it rallies.
That is all.
I mentioned in passing the other day that I had a confrontation at Mass with two abusive parents. I haven’t had a chance to email Father Remski about it, and the five PM Mass is being canceled in a few weeks anyway, so rather than go to an earlier Mass at St. Michael’s we opted to go to Mass at the Cathedral. (It was lovely, by the way. The music was amazing.)
So there we are, Sean, Bede, Gil, me and Trixie, Faith and Abby. Notice the boys bookended between us - not an accident. Bede read the hymnal for the first half of Mass and then became too noisy for the Canon (note to nonCatholics: it’s the important part, with bells, and it’s hushed) so he and Sean went back to the cry room. Doing the math, that leaves me with four kids, who all remained (more or less) calm, and it was no accident.
Here’s where the title of this post finally gets relevant: I was nursing Trixie through most of Mass and Gilbert for about five minutes and it never once occurred to me that I might offend someone. If I hadn’t nursed either kid for fear of others’ thoughts it would have been much more offensive, I can tell you.
I’m not concerned with covering myself while I’m nursing my children. Most of the time the baby covers up nearly everything, and if someone has a problem with a half-inch of skin then they have much bigger problems than I could possibly help them with. Now, if I’m nursing both kids at the same time it’s definitely more obvious, but really,
I DON’T CARE.
Got a problem with nursing breasts? It’s your problem, not mine. I am completely without sympathy to your plight. Look somewhere else.
After Mass a woman I know came over to see who had the baby in the sling. She said she saw the sling from across the church and knew she probably would know the persons wearing it. Is that sad or what? (That she’d know every babywearing mother-child pair in town, I mean.)
So that’s why I let my freak flag fly.
Boobs: it’s what’s for dinner!