Cooking and Happiness

 Looking back over my original “Exploring Happiness” post, this topic would certainly fit with “Exploring Interests" -particularly as I've experienced cooking as a source of as well as an obstacle to happiness. I can't say just how long this cooking post has been "stewing" in my brain, but it's been a while.

I got really into cooking this past summer. There was the wonderful Farmers Market, the higher energy levels that summer weather seems to bring, the fact that Peter was sleeping through the night pretty well during those months (see "Sleep Deprivation Revisited" post), but, most of all, there was this book: Sear, Sauce and Serve by Tony Rosenfeld:

This is my favorite cookbook to date. I liked everything about this cookbook: the mix-and-match philosophy, the author's quirky tips and personal experiences, the exotic “feel” to many of the recipes, and the relative ease with which I could obtain the ingredients and make them. A gift from my mother-in-law, I read it cover-to-cover (who does that with a cookbook?). I looked and re-looked over the recipes, meal-planed almost exclusively from its pages, and even made copious notes in the margins. I was on a roll. The “searing” was working, the “sauces” were delicious, and the “serving” with a starchy side was taking our meals to photograph-worthy status. Here are a couple of meals made during this golden period of cooking:

“To everything there is a season” and that certainly held true here. As my excitement over cooking waned and my freezer increasingly filled with frozen pot pies, I started to wonder what had happened. I had been ready to write “cooking” in glowing letters on my list of interests, and, while I wasn't ready to strike it off completely yet, could someone who'd now hardly cooked a home-made meal in weeks really put it on her list of happiness-inducing hobbies? I think so. Here's why.

Isn't almost any interest or hobby a mixed bag? For instance, I love deciding what pictures and decorative papers will look good together on a scrapbook page, and, even more, I enjoy the finished outcome, but I don't particularly enjoy the tedious cutting and gluing or the ache in my back that follows. I like writing and blogging and seeing my written words on the page, but I'll admit that I enjoy starting the post so much more than finishing it.

You get the idea. Now back to cooking. I can't think of anything more fulfilling at a more basic level than feeding yourself and your family. And the sensory delights abound. It's an activity that's got all 5 senses pretty well covered. I love the sizzle when the meat hits the pan, the fresh smell of cilantro or ginger as you chop it, the bright smoothness of a red bell pepper...and we haven't even got to "taste" yet. The downside? Well, most obviously, there's the mess (the universal bane of home cooks everywhere), the times the meal completely flops (which seems to happen more often than you'd expect in my case -when will I learn to stop trusting Indian recipes with their suggested green chili amounts?), all the burning/under-cooking/forgetting-to-get-the-rice-in-the-rice-cooker-soon-enough drama, and, perhaps worst of all, the general sense of disappointment and waste when something just doesn't turn out as well as you'd have expected -in the absence of any obvious cooking faux paux. I just found this quote from the introduction of The Smitten Kitchen Cookbook by Deb Perelman and had to include it here: "I've noticed the nobody hates cooking as much as they hate the roulette of not knowing if their time, money, and efforts are going to be rewarded by a recipe that exceeds expectations. And I'm no different..."  For me, it's especially bad when I attempt to replicate a dish that someone has served me in the past (e.g. “But I remember your mother's chicken and rice tasting so much better than this”). I also get bogged down with meal planning. Does this sound familiar do anyone?: “I've planned like three whole meals already...isn't that enough for the month?”

It would seem that cooking is indeed a "mixed bag" of good and bad experiences. And yet, looking at cooking -or any other interest for that matter- through the "mixed bag" framework doesn't make a lot of sense to me. After all, are there any activities that I enjoy in their entirety -not to mention 100% of the time? Maybe a healthy dose of realism and perspective is in order. But it's more than that. I don't want to view the bad things in the "cooking bag" as, well, bad. After all, we often learn the most from our failures. Or at least I think we could. I think I could (despite being downright crumby at it  now). In fact, I think that learning to do so is absolutely key to happiness. So I'm on the look-out for ways to really internalize this notion. Maybe a way to mentally re-frame these types of minor failures as a “celebrations of trying?” And here's some more food for thought.  A post a friend made a while back on her blog (http://www.afarewelltocant.com): "The difference between doing nothing and something is huge; the difference between doing something imperfectly and perfectly? Not so huge." There's a great accompanying graphic with that goes with this idea:

Is the “bad” always so “bad” when it comes to pursuing interests? What I mean is, would I feel nearly so proud of my scrapbook had I not put in all the time gluing and pasting? Would I get the same thrill when a recipe turned out well if all of my attempts were shining successes? And, what's more, don't we find all kinds of opportunities for humor and narration precisely from our failures? The time I made inedible-ly, spicy-hot Indian nut soup on two consecutive occasions certainly gives me me a story to tell.

One final thought on cooking. Cooking is special in that, unlike other hobbies that can generally be put on the shelf for long periods of time (e.g. scrapbooking) cooking is a daily necessity and therefore also a chore. So I've been thinking about ways to keep cooking more on the interest side of that line and less on the chore side. "Out-to-eat-Fridays" is one idea I really like. Lobster diners are not necessary -an $8 take n' bake pizza or a $6 box of take-out from Wok on Wheels will suffice. I also like the idea of having a simple but healthy schedule for meal planning during my not-so-into-cooking phases...but more on that to come.

Sleep Deprivation Revisited

People warn you that having a baby will change your world. And it's true. Within the first year, you find that you have adjusted to your baby in oh-so-many ways. The way you travel (or don't), the way you spend time with friends (again, or don't), they way you spend your days, the way you interact with your spouse, the way you shop, decorate, plan, and think. And let's not forget the way your clothes are always stained. However, not all these changes are bad or even unwanted. For instance, playing “Chase Peter” with Dave in the evenings is a huge improvement on watching Netflix (ok, so we still watch Netflix). And even the less-welcome adjustments are accomplished in a relatively short period of time; e.g. by the time baby #2 comes along, I'll already be pretty used to the fact that it takes twice as long to get out the door to go anywhere, that making it through a three-hour church block becomes akin to winning a “Survivor” challenge -just to give a couple of examples.

So why the urgent warning? What's the one adjustment that you just never really adjust to? I'm sure you've guessed it. Sleep deprivation. I'm not talking about the kind of sleep deprivation I experienced in college --you know the hardly-sleep-during-finals-but-then-go-home-on-vacation-and-crash kind. I'm talking about sleep deprivation of the chronic variety. I'm convinced that this type of sleep deprivation takes a toll on memory-making ability because most of last winter is a blur to me. To illustrate, at a friend's Christmas party this weekend I asked Dave, “What did we do with Peter at this party last year? Was he upstairs in his pac-n-play?” A moment later I realized just how absurd that was. Pac-n-play? Last winter Peter didn't even know what a crib was! He was actually in our arms fussing most of the time, but I'd somehow managed to forget that part.

So, memory disclaimer given, I remember things getting quite a bit better when Peter started sleeping in his crib around four months old. There were still the 1-2 nightly feedings though, and weaning him off of those (don't ask me when) was rough. But then...sleep. Marvelous sleep. I'm talking sleeping through the night without interruption more than half of the time. But then, what it is that all the baby books tell you? Just when you think you've got it figured out, everything changes -or something like that? Sometime after Peter learned to walk, we've been treated to regular nightly wake-ups. Again. A couple of times we've forgotten to turn on his space heater and he's woken up with cold little hands and ears, but, usually, we have no idea what his problem is. Is it over-tiredness? Night terrors? Anger at not knowing how to go back to sleep or just wanting to get out and play? Hunger? Inconsistent parenting? -i.e. Sometimes taking Peter out of his crib when he is inconsolable and other times (like last night) turning off the monitor and shutting the door because the exhaustion simply overpowered the guilt? The world may never know.

Now let's add to the mix...wait for it...insomnia. Why already-sleep-deprived people should suffer with insomnia makes zero sense to me. Tossing and turning and thinking, “I should be asleep right now. Now's my chance to sleep. I'll be grumpy if I don't sleep. I should be asleep...” all night long as your mind completely refuses to “turn off.” Again, zero sense. Often insomnia strikes me after a wake-up with Peter, leading my sister-in-law to conclude, “I think your insomnia problem might just be Peter.” Maybe. I hope so. That's got to be at least part of the equation.

I've documented some possible symptoms of sleep deprivation for your amusement.

Possible signs of sleep deprivation:

-A sudden lack of charity towards your spouse: “Fine, I'll get up with him, but you'd better not even think about going back to sleep!”

-Irrational anger: “How could you do this to me?! It's 5:00 and you said you'd be home early!”

-Distorted sense of time: “How can it be 4:05? I swear I looked at the clock half-an-hour ago and it was 4:00?” Or, alternatively, “Wait...two hours have passed since I sat down to mindlessly watch Baby Einstein?!”

-Lethargy: “Looks like Ollie's tearing up a cardboard roll under the table again...I should probably go stop him...but that would involve standing up...”

-Decrease in mental executive functioning: “Now what was it that I was hoping to accomplish today...oh look, a Facebook link to a funny clip..."

To Argue...or Not to Argue

I've been thinking about this topic since the day after the election when I had an FB exchange with a life-long friend (really, friends since pre-K) and it's really got me questioning some things. Here's what happened in a nutshell. She posted a politically-charged post, and I disagreed, saying that I didn't think her comparison was appropriate. She then defended her original post. That was about the end of the political part though as she next stated that she didn't post her opinions because she wanted an argument. Her husband joined in, saying that opinions need not be argued. I quickly came back with an opinion of my own: that opinions absolutely need to be argued. My friend then asked why I hadn't learned my lesson from the last time we'd argued on FB some months ago: that we need to “agree to disagree.” That was the gist of it -from my perspective anyway.

During his lunch break, my husband agreed with my stance. He said that every responsible citizen has a duty to challenge opinions that are extreme or potentially harmful. I agreed. By the time he came home from work late that afternoon though, he'd changed his mind. “You violated Facebook etiquette,” he told me. “On Facebook, you only respond if you are in agreement with the original post.” “But why?!”, I asked, pretty worked-up by this point. “If she didn't want to argue, she could have just never responded to my comment!” “No,” he said, “because by that time you'd put her into a position in which she felt that she HAD to defend her original post.” A little light then turned on somewhere deep in my brain. Oh.

What is it about Facebook? Most of us would never walk into a room full of our friends and say, “Anyone who voted for [fill in the blank] must have an IQ of 30 or lower.” Because, what if one of our friends had, in fact, voted for the particular candidate? Somehow though, walking into a virtual room full of friends and making this same comment seems acceptable. (By the way, this was not my friend's comment -hers was much less insulting- this was just another post that I saw floating around on FB the day after the election.) Should it be acceptable? Maybe in anonymous message rooms where you can masquerade as “2Hot4U243,” but on Facebook? I tend to think not. I tend to now think that on Facebook, it's just too personal.

What then, is the roll of debate? In general? In social networking? These are questions too big for me to answer, but I do have a couple of thoughts. First, my FB offense stemmed from my difficulty in accepting that many people who enjoy boldly posting their opinions do not actually welcome a civil debate. Rather, they are surprised, annoyed or even feel attacked by such a response. Even acknowledging that many people do indeed feel and react this way, I had a hard time...being OK with that. Again, the transformative power of FB. In a face-to-face interaction, if I was getting the vibe that my friend wanted me to drop something, I would drop it pretty quickly. I would be sensitive to her body language and other cues. I would be more concerned about her emotions and more aware of the effects of my words. But that's just it isn't it? FB strips so much of this away.

Another blow was realizing that many of these people who do not want to debate may not understand -or, worse, may misunderstand- MY reasons for welcoming and encouraging debate. A friend of my friend suggested that I was doing it to get attention and to prove my superiority. Another friend of my friend quoted the Book of Mormon scripture about the spirit of contention being of the devil. That really gave me pause. Certainly there is a distinction between being filled with contention and enjoying a debate. But that's not the point. The point is that I would hope people wouldn't make these sort of assumptions about me and that I should, therefore, not make assumptions about their reasons for NOT wanting to debate. For instance, my own husband avoids posting or stating opinionated comments because he doesn't like the constant second-guessing of yourself that follows. Others would simply rather spend their time doing something else. My friend's reasoning seemed to be that debate was pointless; We would never convince each other of anything anyway, so why bother?

I would be lying if I said that I didn't enjoy the competitive element of debate or that feeling of satisfaction that you get when you put a period at the end of a well-articulated thought. But my friend's reasoning made one basic, incorrect assumption. I do not debate primarily because I want to change YOUR opinion; I debate because I want to shape, challenge, and develop my OWN opinions. With some exceptions, I do not view my opinions (particularly my political ones) as the solid and unchangeable pillars that will loyally guide me though the remainder of my life; They are based on my current knowledge, experience, and feelings and are, therefore, subject to change. I want to discover my own biases -my own oversights; I want to question and define my own current opinions, and I have found that the best way to do this is through defending and describing them and listening while others do the same. Why not write my opinions in a journal? you might ask. Or just read a bunch of factual reports or journalistic articles? Because, while these things would be good, I do not believe that they can replace the power or effectiveness of a live debate -particularly with someone you know, love, or respect. It's when my sister-in-law explains how her experiences working in a clinic opened her eyes to a whole host of issues that I hadn't even considered. It's when my brother tells about how his first-hand interactions with others led to a change of heart on a particularly sensitive topic. It's when a FB friend calmly explains why they feel the way they do. These are the things you remember. These are the things that open up your heart and mind to whole new possibilities.

Second, I do believe there is a time to “call it quits” --when feelings are getting hurt, someone specifically requests it, relationships are being damaged, or if it just gets too late to think straight anymore (mind you, I do not always abide by this conviction nearly as well as I should). However, just because you have decided to call a truce on a particular topic or discussion, writing that person off from all future debate, discussion, and compromise seems like a mistake to me; It's an easy enough one to make though in the current political climate (“Oh you're a republican/democrat?...We're done talking”). How can this be a good attitude on Facebook or in Washington? In fact, this extreme polarization along party lines is an issue that concerns me more than the fiscal cliff, more than our broken healthcare system (and that's saying something), more than almost any modern-day political issue. Because, let me wax idyllic here, if we could come together in open, honest, respectful and heart-felt discussion and compromise -acknowledging that we don't know it all and need each others' ideas- I like to think we could work through most any problem. I like to think that.

Pinterest-ing -or Not

To be clear, I enjoy Pinterest. I've found a lot of great ideas. Who hasn't? Of course, I've also wasted a whole lot of time on Pinterest but, again, who hasn't? “If I just scroll down a little further, I know I'll find the world's greatest pin...” Because on Pinterest and in the Blog-o-sphere there's always a better way to do...well, everything. From budgeting, to organizing your pantry, to playing with your baby -somebody has thought of a “better” way to do it. And not only are these ideas at the tip of our fingertips, they are in our email, our FB news feed, right smack-dab in our faces.

The other day I decided to expand Peter's sensory horizons via a Pinterest-inspired activity. I filled a tote with cornmeal, some cups and spoons. Peter had fun banging the metal cups, but when it came to the cornmeal, his sole objective seemed to be dumping the tote (he has discovered dumping). So it became a fight --with me trying to get Peter to play in the cornmeal “the right way” and Peter trying to dump the tote. (Oh yeah, and that “put the tote on a beach towel” idea? Why bother? If you try this type of activity, cornmeal will find its way into the deepest recesses of your kitchen. So just plan on it.)

There was nothing wrong with the cornmeal activity. Peter may have been a bit young for it, but maybe I did expand his horizons a bit. It was just that as I wrestled with the tote while simultaneously trying to keep Ollie from devouring all the cornmeal (have I mentioned he's nuts?) and Peter was screaming at me, I couldn't help remembering the previous day's activity of watching Baby Einstein -Baby on the Go and singing along to “The Wheels on the Bus” together. That was easy. That was fun. That felt entirely natural. The problem was, that in my mind, The Baby Einstein watching thing was just the sort of activity that a lazy parent would do -something a not-at-all-creative mom would do to play with her child. While the cornmeal thing was right down awesome-mom-alley. And I realized that was a big part of why I was doing it.

So I'm here today to tell myself that it's okay. Everything I may or may not see on Pinterest is simply someone's suggestion; It is not the best way -it is not even the better way. It's okay to spend more than $200 a month to feed a family of two. It's okay if my pantry is a mess. It's okay to be a “boring” parent. Simply put, it's okay to do things in the way that comes naturally --especially with parenting. And who knows? Maybe it's even the best way.

Exploring Happiness

Reading The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin, I've been inspired to start my own. I'm not going to call it a project though. To me, the word project connotes a daunting, maybe-I'll-do-it-someday kind of task. A project is also something cut-and-dry, something you can check off a do-to list, something you can dissect, quantify, and ultimately understand. I think happiness is bigger than that. Happiness is, at least in part, a matter of the spirit, and therefore contains an element of the metaphysical, the mysterious, the divine. (I'm suddenly picturing the end of How The Grinch Stole Christmas with all the Whos singing and holding hands.) So, rather than accomplishing a project, I'll simply be exploring happiness. I want to really think, experiment, and write. And hopefully, I'll make a few discoveries along the way.

I've come up with 10 areas that I think are relevant to my current happiness: spirituality, relationships, developing a mothering heart, contentment, kindness, humor, remembering the good, replacing unhappy thoughts, and exploring interests. I'll focus on one each month (I meant to post this on the first of the month). Maybe I should have included an “overcoming procrastination” goal. :) There is also a conspicuous lack of a health-related goal, although I believe strongly in its importance. Maybe it just seemed like too much of a given to be interesting. But it may find its way to the list eventually (note: all things subject to change). And for the last area, exploring interests, I'll actually be tackling one interest per month (e.g. cooking for August, poetry recitation for September, etc.), culminating in the final month.

I also want to periodically post about sources of happiness and obstacles to happiness. Like I was getting at above, I think happiness is big and complex and can't be boiled down to a simple list of “good” and “bad.” But I want to explore (there's that word again) these experiences (e.g. What is it about shopping that makes me happy? Why is having a dog worth cleaning up the cat-poo-throw-up mess? Why do I often leave social events feeling sad? Etc.)

And finally, unlike Rubin, while I don't feel the need to justify the value of this endeavor (I think that “man is that he might have joy” and think most people would agree), I do feel the need to spend a moment on sadness. My goal here is not to eliminate sadness to attain a forced, inauthentic, but constant, level of “happiness.” After all, there is “a season to weep” as well as to laugh. And these not-so-happy feelings represent a valid piece of my emotional make-up. (I love when Gandalf tells the hobbits at the end of Return of the King, “Not all tears are an evil.”) I'm hoping to make some distinctions between the sorrows that are natural and, yes, good, and the unpleasant emotions I trap myself in simply out of habit or because that type of downward spiral has become the path of least resistance. I feel convinced -or at least hopeful- that I can retrain some of those patterns. That I can find ways -from the simple to the profound- to be happier now. And isn't that what everyone wants? So let's start exploring.The good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful, the real. Ready, set,...go!

The Stuff of Parenthood: On Baby-proofing and Beyond -or Not

So we finally put up the stair gate. It took Dave a couple hours of chopping (with a hand saw) and some creative reconstructive surgery (not to mention purchasing a dremel) but it's up.





And now downstairs is pretty safe --as long as we keep the bathroom and pantry doors shut (storing Ollie's food in the pantry was our solution to that particular dog/baby dilemma) and so long as Peter doesn't figure out how to open the kitchen cabinets... Okay. So we've barely begun.

This morning I decided to let Peter play upstairs with me while I blow-dryed my hair (instead of letting it dry into the wild formations that it normally does). Peter was interested in two things: Ollie's kennel and the bathtub. The kennel wasn't such a big deal -although we will someday have to teach Peter that it is not in fact his own personal cave- but the tub was.


You see that little step that Peter would delightedly stand on, and then, not knowing how to climb off, would try to sit back on? You see my attempt to cushion the tile? You see my further attempt to block off the area entirely using our loveseat? (Who has a loveseat in their bedroom? I know.) Well, it worked. Except that then Peter discovered my nightstand and in the whole of two seconds (while I was trying to coax a terrified Ollie out from behind the loveseat - see my post on One Good Way to Traumatize Your Dog) he had managed to slice his fingers on it (you know that thing babies do where they put one hand inside the drawer and then slam it shut with the other?) yeah...


So, it starts feeling like a losing battle. But then, maybe that actually describes a lot of what goes down in parenting. And maybe all parents experience that ever-present voice in the back back of their minds saying, "your baby will self-destruct in five, four, three, two..." Then again, it could just be me.

One Good Way to Traumatize Your Dog. Oops.

We have officially given Ollie a phobic disorder. How did we do it? Starvation? Abandonment? Neglect? No. We did it goofing around with my exercise ball.





Looks innocent enough, right? But now imagine being Ollie's size (< 20 lbs) with this thing chasing you down the stairs at full speed. He must have felt like Indiana Jones in that famous rolling-ball scene. Now just the sight of this thing sends him into paroxysms of fear. I pulled it out to distract Peter while blow-drying my hair this morning (see my post Baby-proofing and Beyond -or Not) and Ollie ran for his life. I found him cowering in the tiny space between the toilet and the wall, trembling visibly. And I wouldn't describe Ollie as a particularly fearful dog. Heck, he used to jump up and try to bite "red ball" (which really was a funny sight - Ollie trying to open his mouth wide enough to get a grip on the thing) back in the day when we used it all the time (no, not for exercise, not for tormenting puppies, but for endlessly bouncing a colicky Peter -much to the detriment of our backs). So we've really done a number on Ollie this time. The only upside is that he won't go near the guest room when we store the exercise ball in there. And the only question remaining is how many long years of psychological therapy will it take to undo the damage? That, and, if this experience is any sort of indicator, who now thinks we are mature enough to be parents? Anyone? Anyone?...

Fertility Awareness Method (FAM) for Birth Control, Conceiving, and Beyond

I've labeled this post as "media recommendations" but also as "other recommendations" because, beyond recommending this particular book, I am recommending getting educated about fertility awareness.

I hope this is not a taboo topic to post about on a blog. Because I think it is something that should be shared. (Thanks to my wonderful sister-in-law for sharing it with me and to whoever shared it with her before that.) I also think it is something that is not shared nearly often enough. In the "marriage intimacy preparation" course I took from BYU's Student Health Center, for example, the physician teaching the class barely mentioned this option while going over her "birth control" chart. On the other hand, probably a solid 30 minutes were spent talking about the pill. Now, granted, the newlywed years may not be the most ideal time for practicing FAM as a method of birth control, but I think this represents a common attitude among medical professionals. What is the message there? That this FAM is too complicated for the average patient to understand? Requires too much self-control? Does anyone else find that just a little bit insulting? But I digress.

FAM as Birth Conrol


Let's get this straight I am NOT recommending FAM as a method of birth control for everyone; obviously, it will not be a good fit for many people, and even those for whom it is will probably only practice it during certain times in their lives (for example, it may not be the best method for women who are partially-breast feeding). What I AM recommending is discovering what it actually is and then considering it as a birth control option -especially if you are sensitive to hormonal birth control methods like I am. (Even on the "mild symptom" Nuva Ring, I was starting to get used to near-constant hunger cravings and a daily bout with nausea in the late afternoons.)

Not to go into too much detail, but there is nothing mysterious, hoodo voodoo, or pseudoscience about fertility awareness. Actually, it is a perfectly logical idea: learn how to tell when you are fertile and then adjust your love life accordingly. Did you know that the woman is actually only fertile for a couple of days each cycle (her egg only stays alive for a day or so)? But taking the man's fertility into account (he is always fertile and his sperm can stay alive for about 5 days), that totals 1-2 weeks of combined fertility. Amazingly, our bodies will let us know when we are in that fertile zone. If we know what to look for.

The other thing I wanted to mention is that you can be as conservative as you want to be with this method. Follow the rules exactly, and you're covered. However, during months when your body isn't sending as clear of signals (anovulatory cycles, for instance) or anytime you don't feel 100% confident, take extra precautions. (During the first 5 days of my period is an example of a time when I feel 100% confident. Another time is a couple of days after I have charted a clear ovulatory temperature shift.)

And finally, I like that the man can be a more active participant in this method (Dave actually writes my temperatures down in my chart most mornings).

FAM to Conceive


When we were trying to get pregnant with Peter, I had a pretty strong inkling that we'd conceived long before I got the positive test result. That's because I was acutely aware of when I had ovulated. If we were struggling to get pregnant, or we just wanted to maximize our chances for a particular month, it would make perfect sense to start with fertility awareness.

FAM for General Body Awareness


I like trying to figure out what my body is doing. I like knowing where I am at -hormonal-ly- in my cycle. Am I more hungry, tired, or anxious at different points in my cycle? Am I ovulating normally? For example, there were a few months last winter when I was suffering with some insomnia/anxiety and my charting was all over the place (I think I had some anovulatory months). Anyway, it was another indication to me that something was "off" with my body. I think this book lists some other great benefits, but (confession) I never finished the last few chapters. Not because the book was intimidating though. Weschler makes it all very user-friendly and throws in plenty of humor for good measure.


I didn't give many details, but this blog post (random blog I ran across when searching for the picture) seemed to do a good job at dispelling several myths.


http://brightonwoman.blogspot.com/2009/03/fertility-awareness-method-fam.html

Daylily Days

Finally. That long-awaited, joyful time has come. No, not the holiday season. But what I call the Logan Daylily Season. Almost anywhere you look in the city you will see their bright colors --apartment complexes, residential streets, business landscaping. If the Logan area had an official flower, it would have to be the daylily. Low-maintenance, tidy, green, leafy bushes all summer long, and, for one glorious month, a deluge of blossoms like those pictured above.

To explain, the individual blossoms do not last for weeks. The blossoms -befitting their name- only open their  petals to the world for one day before closing -to make room for the next day's array of blooms. I couldn't help feeling sad when I learned this (the summer we moved into our already-landscaped-with-daylilies-condo), but soon realized that, with so many buds per stem, we would not be lacking in the daylily department.

I wanted my pictures to show the flowers at their zenith - the week or so when the most blossoms are open at once -but think I was a bit late. They'll now be tapering off until only one or two buds remain per stem (a great time for finally being able to use them as cut flowers, however). It still makes me a little sad though, on days when I don't get out to admire their display, that I missed an entire composition of changing colors, angles, and proportions. I think there's something symbolic there for me -something about how quickly the grand days of summer always seem to go.

Scrubs Love

I'm a little ashamed to admit -and probably should be more ashamed than I actually am- but I think this is my favorite TV show. Ever. It was only last summer that I finished Season Eight, but just the other night Dave and I went back to Season One to start re-watching episodes. I actually get cravings for this show. I could do without most of the sexual humor (most of which I cringe through), and I'm especially bugged by all the J.D./Elliot casual sleeping around. But still, how does a show that regularly features floating-head-doctor daydream sequences (and there's a lot more ridiculousness where that came from) manage to feel so darn real? So full of heart?

How many other comedies could pull off a storyline as heavy the Doctor-Cox-fails-to-save-three-patients-and-his-friends-have-to-pull-him-out-of-a-drunken-stupor one--while still making you laugh out loud every couple of minutes? There is this delicate, magical balance of the funny with the sad, the mundane with the profound, and Scrubs makes it all look so easy. Unlike 30 Rock or Malcolm in the Middle (comedies I've also been enjoying lately) Scrubs usually leaves me with something meaty to chew on. You know, questions like: What are the ethics of modern health care? What does it mean to be a mentor? A friend? What's the best way to deal with death? Change? Lots of medical dramas ask these same types of questions, but I think it's the subtlety, warmth, and humor with which Scrubs does it that is so effective.

It's a show that evolves. Characters and relationships develop believably. Take doctor Kelso. Yes, he is the penny-pinching, cantankerous chief of medicine, but a flat character he most definitely is not, or at least does not remain so for long; by the end of the series, Bob Kelso is one of the show's most sympathetic characters (watch some of the episodes after he has retired if you don't believe me -or the episode told from his point of view). 

The writing is creative and often unexpected. There's an episode done as a musical, an episode told from the eyes of relatively minor characters, an episode which follows a day's chain of events and then goes back and follows them again as they might have occurred. There's the gut-wrenching twist endings, sweet surprise endings, and everything in between. There is none of the formulaic script-writing of House, none of the forced wittiness of Gilmore Girls.

The acting is spot-on --with lots of fun guest-star appearances too (see Micheal J. Fox as an OCD doctor, Dick Van Dyke as one of Doctor Kelso's old friends, Brendan Frasier as Doctor Cox's brother-in-law). But it's really the details that bring everything together for me. The soundtrack, the elaborate day-dreams, the little quirks that make you love the characters, the careful way that events come together. The rough-around-the-edges sincerity. The unabashed goofiness. The heart. And, of course, The Janitor. :)

Stop and Smell the Roses

(I took a public speaking class in college and always regretted not having given my persuasive speech on this topic. Decided it wasn't too late.)  :)

“Stop and smell the roses” has always been one of my favorite sayings. As a child, I took the advice quite literally, and there are dozens of photographs of little me to prove it. Of course, this gem of wisdom goes well beyond flowers. To stop, to slow down, to smell, appreciate, and more fully experience our world suggests, nothing short of, an entirely new way of living. But how do you say, “slow down,” let only live the idea, in our culture of capitalism? -In a culture that, above all else, values efficiency and success, albeit a rather narrow definition of the word. To quote Adam Smith's 1776, The Wealth of Nations, in a free-market economy, “every individual necessarily labors to render the annual revenue of society as great as he can.” In other words, to increase the Gross National Product.

In this regard, at least, I think we have succeeded. Consider the floating island of waste in the North Pacific. Consider that in most households both adults work long hours week after week after week, and, if lucky, will receive two or three weeks paid vacation each year. Consider that we have increased our daily intake by at least 300 calories per day since 1985; consider that, for the sake of efficiency, we now ingest a reported fifth of these daily calories in the car. Consider the national rates of heart disease and obesity; our population simply can't increase our demand for food as quickly as the food industry can produce more of it. (In the spirit of increasing revenue, however, the industry has largely overcome this hurdle with marketing campaigns such as “supersizing” and other insidious changes to our way of eating -the full effects of which still remain largely undetermined.)

In a culture driven by producing and consuming ever-more stuff, “slowing down” may not be as simple as it sounds. It may not even be a solution. But maybe, just maybe, it is. “Slow Food” is the name of a movement that began in Italy in the 1980s to combat our increasingly fast-paced way of life. They emphasize savoring good food, eaten in good company. Their messages is that a slower, more thoughtful, more appreciative way of eating and living would not only improve our health, but have other cultural benefits as well.

Considers this example. What might the effects be if we reinstated the seemingly fundamental -but ever diminishing- family meal. To paraphrase some of Micheal Pollan's ideas from his book, In Defense of Food, children might learn more patience if they had to wait between meals rather than popping a frozen entree into the microwave at the first twinges of hunger. They might learn to control their portion sizes. And wouldn't children and adults alike appreciate and, therefore, waste less food if they had taken some part in the preparation or clean-up of the meal? What's more, children might learn social skills such as table manners and polite conversation -not to mention an overall deepening of family relationships- if we just took the time to sit down together and eat.

But that's just it, isn't it? We simply don't have the time. Or do we? In less than two decades, the average American has somehow found the time to add 1-2 hours spent on the internet every day. Clearly, there is a balance of priorities involved as well. Aside from eating well and eating together, what else do we no longer have the time for? Walking to school or work -or walking anywhere, for that matter. Stopping to chat. With the advent of the self-check-out line, we can now complete an entire shopping experience without ever having to stop and interact with anyone.

Perhaps most distressing of all, we don't have time for solitude and for meditation. Even in our moments of alone time, is there any room for deep contemplation -for introspection- given the near-constant buzzing from phone calls, texts, emails and face-book notifications coming from the mobile device in our pocket? Can we even call it “alone time” anymore? To paraphrase from an article by Stephan Marchie titled “Is Facebook Making Us Lonely?” the author concludes that one of the most interesting phenomenons of social media isn’t that is is making us more lonely, but rather, that it is changing the very nature of solitude itself. Whereas these moments may have once been spent marveling at nature or searching our souls, they are now increasingly spent contemplating our next status update or wondering what vacation pictures we should post online; In other words, we are spending a lot more time thinking about the digital version of ourselves that we wish to present, rather than thinking about the version of ourselves that we actually are.

I am not suggesting that we throw away our mobile devices and head for the hills to “find ourselves.” What I am suggesting, though, is that we see more, notice more, and appreciate more in our day-to-day living. I'm convinced that doing so will improve our physical health as well as our internal sense of identity, awareness, and well-being. What is the power of noticing? Well, Barbara Ann Kipfer's, 14,000 Things to be Happy About gives us some idea. Kipfer didn't start out meaning to write this book. She simply noticed, enjoyed, and recorded the “little things” in life -, flannel sheets, ice cream sandwiches, sun burning off the morning fog. She often jotted down her observations on receipts, napkins, or whatever piece of scrap-paper happened to be available at the time. And yet, her impressive compilation of “happy thoughts” has become beloved by thousands of Americans -it's message of “enjoying the little things” incorporated into various mental-health therapeutic approaches.

On a more personal note, in college, I was able to room with one of my best friends who was then -and is now- an inspiration to me on this topic. Every night, no matter how tired, now matter how late the hour, she would write down five “things to be happy about” from that day. Given her depression and struggle with other health problems, this wasn't always such an easy a task. And yet, she persevered. Years of experience with medications, physicians, counselors and various treatments, and she had come to the conclusion that this one simple exercise was perhaps the most powerful treatment of them all.

So try noticing life. Slow down. Make time for the important things. Take time for the little things. Stop. Smell. Enjoy life's roses.

The Stuff of Parenthood: Top 8 for Pregnancy (i.e. How I Survived)

1) Slim-Rite Breakfast Drinks

I think these truly saved my life (or at least saved me from a lot of unpleasant retching). Now, I'm no fan of diet drinks, but I tried everything else (graham crackers, ginger cookies, chocolate milk, juice) and these babies were the only thing that I could get down in the morning (I'd chug one with a straw before even getting out of bed) that would really stave off the nausea until lunchtime.

2) One-Piece Garments

For those of you that are of the LDS faith, I had to share this discovery. If you can't find them at a distribution center, they are easy to buy online from the church store. Basically, no seems pushing into your baby bump = comfort. Shirt has a much cuter fit over baby as well. Plus, you know those maternity pants panels? They will actually stay up when worn over these (must be cotton-blend, not silky texture, though).

3) Water, Water, Everywhere!

Okay, I know this is not the environmentally-friendly route, but I think having a case of water bottles in my office at work probably saved me from dying of thirst on more than one occasion (melodramatic you say? -try being pregnant and just see just how thirsty you get!) You wouldn't believe how difficult it can be to find a moment to simply walk down the hall and refill your water bottle when you are scrambling to clean up from  your previous therapy session and prepare for the next! (Also, for working mommies, do whatever you can to schedule your lunch time for as long as you can. Skipping lunch will no longer be an option).

I also dreamed about finding a big water mug like this one the whole summer that I was pregnant (and eventually did, ironically, after giving birth):

4) Snacks Galore

For my bedroom, I filled a crate with juice boxes and munchies. Because, so often, I'd wake up in the night to pee, but then realize that I couldn't go back to sleep because I was so hungry! Having some middle-of-night munchies on hand was especially good for living in a town-home style condo. (Who wants to go downstairs to the cold, dark kitchen in the middle of the night?)

5) Body Pillow

Being a stomach-sleeper, I was really worried about having to switch to my side. With a pillow like this though, it wasn't even an issue. I found a happy in-between-stomach-and-side position. A lot like this lady is demonstrating:

6) Lower-back Pillow for Car

Long car trips were brutal beyond 7 months. A pillow like this behind my back alleviated some of the discomfort though.

7) The Hair-Band-in-Button-Hole Trick

Learned this one from a coworker. Enabled me to wear my work pants through the school year and thereby to put-off buying maternity pants until summer (at which point, I only needed to buy a few pairs of crops).

8) Drawstring Pants

Even better than maternity pants for comfort in my experience. Can also be cuter (believe it or not) and can be worn before and after giving birth. Do yourself the favor that I didn't and have a lot of these stocked up in your closet when you return from the hospital. (Make sure there is a nice wide, stretchy waist band, like in this picture.)

What got you through pregnancy? I'd love to hear your ideas. :)

Cache Valley Gardener's Market

I know I posted on this topic a couple of years ago, but, since then, my love for the Cache Valley Gardener's Market has only grown! There's something about the local, friendly, wholesome goodness of it all that I can't resist. I love seeing the creative expressions of my fellow Cache Valleyians. I love the local chefs celebrating their ethnic heritage. I love buying my food from the very person who grew it. I'm sure having just finished "In Defense of Food" by Micheal Pollan has only increased my zeal, but I love biting into a locally grown tomato and knowing it is so much better for me -not to mention for the environment- than a store-bought one. (I hope there is an additional placebo effect going on here to, because I can almost picture the nutrients flooding my body when I bite into that local, leafy goodness.) This season, Dave and I signed up for a half-share in a CSA (community supported agriculture). For $260 bucks and we'll get a bag of produce every week from now through the end of December. We love seeing what comes into season each week (sorrell, anyone? loveage?) and then discovering what to do with it. Gooooo local! (said like a cheerleader chant, not a command, btw) :)

The Stuff of Parenthood: The Hardest Part

Already posted on the best part of being a mom. So what was the hardest part of having a newborn? The sleep deprivation? The 3 A.M. feedings? The cry-fest between the hours of 5:00 and 9:00 P.M.? The transformation of your old way of life? For me, it was all of these things. But, again, it's really the bigger picture represented by those things. For me, it was the "loss of control."
I think of it this way. When I was working, was I any less stressed? Absolutely not. What's more, did I have any more free time? Nope, definitely had less. But the thing is, what time I had was MY free time; even if I only had an hour of it, I could count on at least that solid, uninterrupted hour to do, well, whatever I wanted. Enter baby. Baby goes down for a nap. I should have a couple hours of free time, right? But then, with baby in the picture now, nothing is guaranteed. Baby could wake up screaming -needing me- in 60 minutes, 30 minutes, 10 minutes. You just don't know. You could get wrenched out of a beautiful nap, interrupted half-way through unloading the dishwasher, pulled out of an important phone call. Your time -your life- is simply no longer your own. You have lost control. Try to embrace it.

The Stuff of Parenthood: ...and What About "Us"?

You know that thing people always say about marriage and kids? That, "Don't-think-having kids-will-solve-your-marital-problems" thing? Well, in case you were wondering, it's true. While having a baby together does strengthen the bond at a deep-down level (going through heck and back with someone generally has a tendency to do that, i.e. having a colicky newborn together), in the short-term, at least, it creates a lot more marital problems than it solves.

Here's the way I see it. A couple that is well-rested, rational, and spends most evenings enjoying each other's company is 100% more likely to get along than a couple that is exhausted, barely keeping a grip on sanity, and that spends most evenings calming a crying infant. Some evenings, by the time you've put away dinner, bathed and got baby to sleep, squeezed in a favorite TV show, and crashed into bed, you realize that you haven't had a conversation today with your spouse. You don't even have the energy to tell him about your day. This is the sad truth of it.

Can't say I didn't expect it. One thing I didn't realize though, was how much harder it would be to communicate simply because of the increased noise level --how much harder it would literally be to hear and focus on what your spouse is saying over the din of the screaming and the wailing. We've actually had several misunderstandings simply because we mis-heard one another. (Being married to someone with low, quiet voice certainly hasn't helped matters in this department either).

Not to mention how many more opportunities there are to disagree about how things should be done and to just get cross with each other in general. Here are just a few examples:

"Should we let baby cry it out tonight?"
"Did you really forget to pack his binki!?"
"Are you actually asleep already?"
"Should we keep him up later or put him to bed now?"
"Are we a team on this, or what?"

But then, it's also the greatest part of marriage, isn't it? Working together. Learning together. Becoming parents. Together.

The Stuff of Parenthood: Concerning Bonding

As you can probably tell from my last post, I've given some thought to the idea of bonding. It's easy to freak myself out with this one: "Did I spend enough time snuggling/playing with Peter today?" "Will he still bond with me even though I stopped breast-feeding?" Of course you have these worries.

But more, I've thought about bonding as a process. Because here's the deal; when they put that baby in your arms for the first time, you and your baby are still -for most intents and purposes- total strangers.

All my life I dreamed of the moment when I would first hold my baby in my arms. In my dream, there was this moment of pure nirvana, this moment of total and instantaneous bonding. Now, as wonderful as the experience was, the metaphysical moment described above did not occur. It did not occur because, no matter how magical the moment, bonding simply doesn't happen in a moment. It happens bit by bit, day by day, diaper by diaper.

I love this quote about bonding and the newborn experience. It's from a book called "The babytalk Insider's Guide to Your Baby's First Year" (would highly recommend):

"...and life beyond the next diaper change is foggy at best. Sure, there are meaningful, memorable moments with your newborn, but it's not very likely that your relationship has evolved to the point that you could call it a bond. A bond is when you know exactly what someone needs and how to fulfill it, right? You may love your baby at first, but there's a good chance you don't always like him...or know what the heck to do for, with or about him.
...Meanwhile, we can all aspire to the perfect relationship...as long as we remember that these things reside mostly in fantasyland. Day by fuzzy day, somewhere along the way we start to get a little bit of it right..."

The Stuff of Parenthood: The Best Part

I'm going in a new direction with my blog. It will be les about what we've done this year (I want to make photo books for that) and more about my thoughts on stuff. All kinds of stuff. Not surprisingly, a lot of that stuff lately involves parenthood.

I should have made this post way back in November when my friend, Becky, asked me what was the best part about being a mom. I'd probably been complaining about something at the time (she has this endearing yet aggravating way of trying to steer the conversation in a more positive direction), and I, in my vast two months of experience, had a hard time coming up with an answer. I think I said cuddling and holding your baby. Yes, cuddling is great. But it's only part of the bigger picture. The best part? The best part is getting to know your baby - all of his wonderful little ways. And then, watching as he gets to know you. The first time he follows you around the room with his gaze. The first time he smiles when he sees your face -and all the smiles after that. It's the bonding. It's the way your heart grows.

This is a stanza from a poem my brother, Brian, wrote for my wedding. (Dave and I were married on May 1st, btw):

"...at length 'twill raise your orbits to enclose
little laughs and tiny toes
you'll wonder how a heart thus grows
or if yours may be the first"

Welcome Hans Peter!

Hans Peter made his exciting entrance into our family on October 6th at 10:27 A.M., weighing 7 lbs, 15 oz. We were able to bring home the next day, on my 27th birthday.

We are so happy he is here.