Spring Is In The Air

The air is getting warmer and daylight is hanging around a little longer in the evenings. I remember thousands of evenings like these as a child, going back outside after dinner to play before the sun went down. Throwing a softball with dad, riding bikes, jumping on the trampoline, hide-and-seek in the shadows, catching fireflies, trying to outrun the sunset.

As a child, it is the sweet spot of the day.

Tonight I caught a glimpse into our future with Sydney doing much of the same.

Playing with rubber snakes (we are the benefactors of MANY from the previous owners)...

Kicking the soccer ball with daddy...

Down the slide...

Some serious chats...

Topped off with a bubble bath!

First trip to the zoo!

A few pictures from our trip to the Houston Zoo today. Sydney loved it!

She was really into the chipmunks.

And wanted to kiss the meerkats.

Of course we had to visit the tiger.

The only thing missing is our visit to see the monkeys. That's when Sydney got hungry and practically became part of the exhibit... running and laughing, then kicking and screaming along the way. She was actually more entertaining than most of the monkey's who were trying to take a nap.

So we fed the wild beast and all was well again!

Yes, Fletcher was there too. Showing off his new teeth.

And the final stop... our girl loves the carousel!

WI - When will it end?

OK, I'm going to wade into the political waters on my blog because I just cannot believe what I'm seeing take place in Wisconsin. There are a lot of competing opinions about what is going on - is this about unions or budgets, which side is being more unreasonable and so on. I'm not going to dive into that pool, but I do want to spend a moment venting about what I consider to be the bottom line - the Senate democrats who fled the state to avoid voting on this legislation.

Can you imagine being handed a project at work, deciding you didn't want to do it and leaving, demanding they assign it to someone else before you return? I imagine you would soon find yourself in the unemployment line.

Yet that is exactly what these legislators have done. They are basically blackmailing the state. Took the legislative process hostage and sent their ransom note. Real mature.

We live in a democratic society with elected representatives. Generally when you cast a ballot, you know the basic principles of the candidate you are voting for and how they will represent your interests. The voters in WI overwhelmingly elected a conservative Governor and body of legislators last fall. For now, conservatives control the way the state is governed. If they mishandle it, or go against the will of the people, voters will have the opportunity to make adjustments in the next election. That's the way it's always been and we have seen the pendulum swing left and right election after election.

As an elected official, you do the best you can in the political environment to offer up suggestions and alternatives. Sometimes you win. Sometimes you lose. Even my 17 month old knows to quit stomping her feet and give in to me putting her hair in pigtails because right now I control her world. Later on, she can decide how she wants her hair to look (God help).

Seriously though, it's a brilliant and very fair system we have.

For this group of democratic legislators to hold up the entire process because they don't like the bill is childish and irresponsible. It's been two weeks. Point Made. They need to man-up, come home, vote no on the bill and then work like crazy to convince the people of WI to make changes in the next election. Ultimately the voters will decide. As it should be.

Pigtails!

Sydney just made my day! I have been dying - dying - to put pigtails in her hair. She barely tolerates a hair clip most days, pulling it out nano-seconds after we clip the hair out of her face. But pigtails. I mean every little girl, MUST have pigtails!

So while she was distracted by breakfast this morning, I pounced.

Here she is wondering what just happened - also giving you a better view of the back. I won't show you the full rear view as you would be appalled at my pigtail-making skills. But, hey, she was wiggly and there's no way I was going to try for a second time.

Diversity

One consideration for moving to Houston was the opportunities our kids would be provided living in a bigger city. Academics, activities, sports, culture... and diversity. Mandeville, LA was a wonderful place to raise a family but it is also very white. I grew up in a small, rural, monotone town myself. I could count the number of black students in our high school on one hand (the only high school in the county). I don’t recall any hispanic or asian students. And while I wouldn’t consider them racist, I witnessed an undertone of segregation from my grandparents. They weren’t malicious in their beliefs, they just simply had lesser expectations for people of a different race or skin color. It was the time in which they grew up and ignorance from their own monotone upbringings. I can’t begin to imagine how growing up in a segregated society would feel or affect your way of thinking for a lifetime.

I want more for my kids. It is my hope and belief that with every generation we are slowly overcoming prejudices of the past - the opportunity is certainly there anyway. It is important to me that our kids grow up surrounded by the brilliant diversity that truly represents America.

One of Sydney’s daycare teachers came to me earlier this week and mentioned that Sydney was not very comfortable with her. She asked if Sydney had any black teachers in her previous school. That made me sad, but thankful at the same time - this is the sort of life experience I want our kids to have. Already, at 17 months old, Sydney was aware there was something different about this woman. That’s ok. Different is what makes us all unique and special. But she was cautious simply because of the color of the woman’s skin. And that’s not ok.

Will we ever be free of prejudices? I doubt it. There are stereotypes associated with all sorts of backgrounds and characteristics - Black, Asian, Irish, Italian, red-head... everyone carries some degree of stereotype. Heck, even Asian is too broad - there are varying stereotypes for Chinese, Japanese, Vietnamese and so on. Living in Miami, I learned there is a hierarchy among Hispanics - the order of which I’m sure changes depending on whether you’re in the company of a Cuban, Venezuelan, Mexican or Spaniard. Most of these are worn proudly and should be celebrated. But never should they imply a lesser ability or change the value of an individuals worth.

I don’t pretend there is any such thing as color-blindness and we are kidding ourselves as a society if that’s what we expect. What I want is for my kids to notice the differences but have the same approach and expectation of everyone as a human being regardless. God made us each one special and unique - but we all have brains to think with and hearts to love with. That was His blank canvas. How boring if he never used any paint.

That same teacher of Sydney’s told us yesterday that they are now good friends. Joy.

Our Big Boy!

4 months old... 18lb and 26 inches.

Souffle - Yes, you can!

Valentines Day also happens to be our Anniversary. We don't like to plan months in advance, fight the crowds and pay the Vday up-charge that comes with going out to dinner on that day so we usually make a fancy dinner at home instead.

Dessert is always a must. And it must be something special. So what could be more special than a souffle, right? I mean the difficulty level is supposed to be off the charts. So I decided to give it a go.

Now, I am not a baker. Love to cook but baking is not my thing. It requires precision and a level of attention to detail that I am just not comfortable with. My good friend Susanne Dudley thrives on the order of baking. Not me. I much prefer to throw a bunch of ingredients together and let them sing. Baking requires that you actually measure. With measuring tools. Not just eye-balling a teaspoon in the palm of your hand.

I knew I could be in over my head so I did some research, read through several souffle recipes online and their reviews. In doing so, I learned you can actually make it a few hours ahead of time. Who knew! That dropped the level of difficulty significantly. I settled on this recipe from Epicurious (mainly because others called for cream of tartar and I didn't have any) and away I went.

All that talk about baking precision flew out the window, however, when I looked at the size of my souffle dish. The recipe makes 2-4 servings. And it said you should put those servings in 6 oz ramekins. I don't have ramekins that size and preferred to make just one big souffle - (4) 6oz servings is 24oz. The only souffle dish I had was 32oz. Hmmmm. This could be bad. It was too late to run out for a new dish so I charged ahead.

I melted the chocolate, whipped the yolks, folded it all together and put it in my too-large souffle dish. Seemed to fit ok so I put it in the fridge with an inverted bowl on top. I took it out about 30 minutes before I was ready to bake it (sheer gut instinct told me it would bake better from room temperature). 24 minutes in the oven and...

VOILA!

Amazing! I cannot believe it worked. I was just praying for something edible but it actually looked pretty. I hadn't planned to write about it, but when I saw it come out of the oven so beautifully, I couldn't help but take a picture! And it was delicious.

OK so it may have gotten a tad bit higher had it been in a tad bit smaller dish. And it was a little runny in the center and maybe could have used another minute in the oven, but HELLOOOOO... chocolate souffle right in my own kitchen!

Yes, you can do it too (even you, Stacy Drake). Try it the next time you want to impress someone - or yourself!

Happy Valentines Day!

Sydney's first valentine ever was from her pals, the Brown boys. But this year for school, she sent valentines to all of her classmates. Here she is, carefully signing each one.

Mom Guilt

Thursday morning I found myself sitting on an airplane, heading to our nations capitol for work. Instead of being excited about a few nights of uninterrupted sleep, spit-up free clothing and real adult conversation, I was in tears. Weighted down by incredible worry and guilt.

All week I had been warding off bad spirits. No one was allowed to be sick when I left. Pat was horribly ill on Monday. I quarantined him and disinfected everything he touched. That afternoon Fletcher started coughing - the scary croupy kind. I kept him home the next two days, running the humidifier and spending lots of time in a steamy bathroom, in hopes of avoiding actual croup. I even took him to the pediatrician on Wednesday morning just to be sure I wasn't missing anything. He was fine, just a little chest cold. Finally it was Thursday. I thought we were safe and left home early that morning for the airport.

And then the call.

Barely through security, Pat called to let me know Fletcher had thrown up his morning bottle. I sat for what seemed like an eternity trying to decide if I should turn around and go home that minute. Pat was prepared to adjust his schedule for a few days in order to get the kids to and from daycare. But now he was left with more than a handful. With a lot of reassurance from Pat and encouragement to continue on my trip, I left.

Long story long... Fletcher ended up being pretty ill for two days. Could hardly keep anything down. Pat had to take those days off from work, taking Fletcher to the pediatrician, cleaning up after volumes of rejected formula and explosive diapers. I stayed in DC feeling very irresponsible and selfish.

Now, I need to take a moment to give Pat the major props he deserves. He is one of the most capable fathers I've ever met. At no time did my worries have anything to do with whether or not he could handle the situation. We are total co-parents with no definition of responsibility. The kids are OUR responsibility. Shared. Period. I just felt like I should have been there too. I guess it's a special sort of guilt that comes with being a mom and - let's be honest - a feeling that no one else can do it quite like you.

When I got home late Saturday afternoon, I arrived to a clean house, peaceful, healthy kids and Pat like this...

In the kitchen. Making chicken soup. From scratch. I am not worthy. Maybe I should leave more often.

P.S. Fletcher is doing MUCH better!

Go Fetch!

No, we did not just buy a dog. By the way, you will know I've gone weak and am a complete sucker if we ever do.

I'm just loving this new phase that Sydney is in - the one where she understands basic commands and still enjoys doing them.

Where's your cup? Go get your bowl. Take this to mommy/daddy. Throw this in the trash can. Get daddy a beer. Ok, maybe not that last one. Afterall she can't open the refrigerator yet.

And she loves to help us. Bring groceries in. Haul boxes to the curb for recycling. She even wiped her spilled milk off the floor with a towel the other day. Then proceeded to shake her sippy cup violently in effort to spill more so that she could continue wiping. Sigh. I didn't say she had this perfected.

Truth be told, she was doing this before we realized. I remember one evening - Fletcher was maybe a month old - Pat and I were trying to eat dinner while Sydney played around and on us. Fletcher started wailing upstairs and I jokingly asked Syd to go calm her brother down. Off she went! She was halfway up the stairs before Pat grabbed her. Sometimes I wish we had let her go just to see what she would have done.

There are some really frustrating things about this stage of her development too. Like not being able to tell me she wants yogurt specifically. Just signing that she wants to "eat", "please." So we raid the pantry and half a dozen things in the fridge before discovering what it is that has turned her into a raging monster. Then all of a sudden something will click and we figure out what her gestures or attempts at speech for the past several days have meant. I'm sure somewhere in that little head of hers she's thinking "come on people, catch up!" This will be a common theme for the rest of her life.

But she's so much fun!

"Holding" her brother.

Making Gumbo

There are few things better on a cold, football Sunday than a big one-pot dish of comfort food. If you live in, near or are from Louisiana, that classic one-pot dish is gumbo. I am not from Louisiana. Never even considered cooking gumbo until about two years ago. But when you marry a cajun, it's part of the deal that you learn some of those bayou classics. I embraced the challenge and it has become a favorite and regular in our home!

Gumbo is all about the roux. If you get that right, the rest is downhill. If you cook much, you have probably made a roux. But a gumbo roux is special and very serious. It requires a little extra TLC and time. Lots of time. But it's so worth it. And it feeds an army. Or freezes well for multiple meals for your small army.

Now there are probably as many different ways to cook gumbo as their are Louisianans. The method of cooking the roux alone can cause major family rifts. I have heard you can do this in the microwave. Some use oil instead of butter. I personally believe the method with butter is probably the most classic and find the slow process of stirring it over the stove very therapeutic. Classic or not, here is my version of Mr. B's Gumbo Ya-Ya (this recipe requires a pot larger than any I have - I always cut it in half, even for a crowd).

Step 1 - Prep! Read through the entire recipe first. Get all the ingredients prepped. Make sure all children are sleeping or well fed and entertained. Use the bathroom. And have a back-up pot-stirrer (the real kind, not metaphorical) for the unexpected bathroom break or kid incident. Once you get the roux started, you cannot stop. For anything. I warned you - this is serious.

Step 2 - Make the roux. In a large dutch oven melt 2 sticks of butter over medium heat. If you don't have a dutch oven, get one. We were given a Martha Stewart one as a wedding gift and use it at least once a week! Le Creuset is a great brand but this one works just as well and is much less expensive.

Add 1 1/2 cups of flour - and this is where the serious part begins. Take your wooden spoon and stir. And don't stop stirring for 30-60 minutes. Yep. 30-60 minutes. I told you it was time consuming. You have to stir the entire time. Do not let the roux burn or it's ruined and you have to start all over again.

At first it will look white, thick and lumpy like this.

And then the magic happens. About 10 minutes into the stirring process, it begins to thin out and starts turning a light caramel color. This is also when it becomes even more important that you do not stop stirring. As it thins and darkens, it will come dangerously close to burning several times. Don't panic. Just keep stirring. Feel free to lower the heat a bit so that you can keep up.

It's also around this point that (in my humble opinion) it begins to smell like fresh baked pie crust. I love this smell and normally drink in this moment. Unless... you happen to be holding a child with a poopy diaper, while your back-up pot-stirrer is feeding the other child. Clearly, I failed to pay attention to Step 1.

Note - a large bucket of popcorn - thank you Brandi Brown - will tide a toddler over until you are done. Because unless someone is bleeding or stopped breathing, DO NOT STOP STIRRING.

Back to the roux. All that work pays off - right before your eyes you will see the color become a rich caramel color. You can move on to the next step after 30 minutes and the gumbo will turn out just fine but try to hang in there a little longer. It's become sort of a challenge for me... am I committed? Do I have what it takes to stick this out another 10, 15, 20 minutes??? Yesterday I made it about 45 minutes - the beautiful results below. It's very satisfying. Few things say "I'm a cook" like slaving over a warm stove for close to an hour, nursing flour and butter until perfection. It is so simple, it's genius. Sigh. Now the best part is done. Therapy session over.

Step 3 - Dump everything else in the pot and let it do it's thing. Seriously, it's that easy.

I add the holy trinity and let it cook and soften a bit. Trinity, you say? If you live in Louisiana, this requires no explanation. The holy trinity is some combination of onion, bell pepper, celery and a little parsley (yes, that was 4 items, not 3... don't question, just go with it) and it is found in every grocery store, already chopped and combined for you. If you don't live in Louisiana, just chop up some combination of those ingredients. This time I only had onion and bell pepper. You would never know the difference.

Add the seasoning. Then the chicken stock - about 10 cups or 2.5 boxes. If you have homemade chicken stock available, use it. Otherwise, I really like the Kitchen Basics brand in a box. The very best gumbo's I've ever made have been when I had homemade stock, but who has had time for that lately!

When it is heated back up, I finally add the chicken and sausage. I usually buy a rotisserie chicken the night before or day of and debone it. Then I freeze the carcass to make aforementioned chicken stock. If you want to roast your own chicken, knock yourself out. The roux is enough to satisfy my scratch-cooking desires for a while.

At this point, you are freed up to make the rice (or change a diaper) and you can probably eat the gumbo in the next 20 minutes. Or you can leave it on the stove on low as long as you like (stir every so often to avoid any sticking/burning on the bottom) until you're ready to eat. The sauce will continue to thicken a little. If it gets too thick, just add more chicken stock. Here was our final product.

Mmmmm. Serve over rice and don't forget the french bread. It's just not the same if you don't have fresh delicious bread to dip in your sauce. And there you have it. A little Louisiana wherever you are.

Blogging

Blogging is near impossible when the kids are home or awake. After spending the last 5 hours trying to finish a blog about making gumbo, I give up. Instead, you get a blog about the difficulty of blogging. Gumbo will have to wait until tomorrow. It's always better the next day anyway.

What's wrong with this picture?

This afternoon I started unloading the dishwasher when I noticed something was not quite right on the bottom rack...

Let's take a closer look...

Yep - that's a sippy cup. Lid on. Milk still inside.

At first glance, I thought to myself, "you know Pat's dishwasher loading skills leave a lot to be desired but this takes it to a whole new level."

Then I quickly remembered our search for Sydney's sippy cup of milk last night after she went to bed. We knew it was around somewhere but couldn't find it. I was left with the dread of eventually finding it in some random hiding place of hers, weeks later, looking like a science project gone bad.

But no. Our clever and helpful daughter put her cup right where it belonged. In the dishwasher to be cleaned. She is so smart!

Now I owe Pat an apology for jumping to conclusions. And a thank you for the fact he loads the dishwasher at all.