Go Dutch, Baby

Whenever I can convince my dear husband to whip up this breakfast treat, I consider myself blessed indeed. Of course, we've also been known to enjoy it for brunch, birthday celebrations, random Mondays and just because. It's just that good. What follows are Matt's instructions for making your very own Dutch Baby. Feel free to forward to your own husbands!




Total Time: 45 minutes (this of course implies that you have ALL the ingredients, which thankfully for this recipe you should, apart from the lemon which seems to be a luxury in our house)
Prep: 15 minutes (spot on)
Cook: 30 minutes (this can vary, just set it for 25 minutes or so and watch for the last few. Once you smell what's cookin' you won't stray far from the kitchen)
Yield: 4 servings (HA! no way...4 servings? They must mean 2 servings, with 2 left over for seconds!) 
Level: Intermediate (I think the only thing making this intermediate is having a seasoned 10-inch cast iron skillet available)

Assemble the troops.

INGREDIENTS

• 3 tablespoons butter, melted and divided
• 1/2 cup all-purpose flour. (Actually calls for 2 3/8 ounces, but who bothers to measure by weight? A 1/2 cup seems to have worked just fine)
• 3 tablespoons sugar
• "A little" vanilla. (I've never measured. "A little" seems close enough. Maybe 1/2 to 1 teaspoon?)
• 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
• 1/2 cup whole milk, room temp. (I've used skim, 2%, and whole. Not sure my palette can tell the difference)
• 2 large eggs, room temp. (I've used up to 4. Any more than that and it starts tasting too much like quiche)
• "A little" cinnamon, if you're feeling inclined.

DIRECTIONS:

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F
2. Get yer cast iron ready! Place 2 tablespoons of the melted butter into a 10-inch cast iron skillet and place in the oven (I don't think I've ever bothered to melt the butter first, it takes roughly 14 seconds to melt in a 375 degree oven, so what's the big rush?). 
3. Wait around 10 minutes before assembling other ingredients (Huh? I'm pretty sure this is the first time I've seen this line in the recipe. Oops!)
4. Place the flour, sugar, vanilla, salt, milk, eggs, and remaining tablespoon of melted butter into the bowl of a food processor or blender and process for 30 seconds. Carefully pour the batter into the preheated skillet. 

Blend.

Bake on the middle rack of the oven for 30-35 minutes or until the edges are puffed and brown. 

Out of the oven.

Careful, it's hot.

Sprinkle with additional vanilla sugar and serve with lemon wedges. (Again, another line I don't think I've ever read. We've always used powdered sugar, probably because we always have it on hand thanks to Kristine's scrumptious Mexican Wedding Cookies recipe. But I digress, sprinkle and top with whatever you'd like. Fruit would work, whipped cream, syrup, you could really use anything. Thanks to the neighbors we've become partial to butter, freshly-squeezed lemon, and a little powdered sugar.).

Hello Heaven.

 Courtesy Alton Brown (who else) via FoodNetwork.com (and where else?)

Another Weekend

First off, ya'll say hi to Ted! He pushed that little "follow" button over there in the right-hand column and is the newest (out loud and proud) follower of this little ol' blog of mine. He's also my small group leader and I may or may not have bribed him to follow because it's been such a long time since anyone pushed that little button and made me feel like some of you actually enjoy dropping by this little web-home we've made. Anyway. Enough about me and my obvious hints.



It's nice when the end of the weekend rolls around and I actually feel rested and accomplished and ready to face Monday morning. As opposed to tired and cranky and confused as to where the weekend disappeared off to.


We put Violet to bed about an hour ago, and for once, she didn't wail and demand we sit in the hallway. We gently (but firmly) reminded her that we would be right downstairs, and she went to sleep. Victory! Now, if tonight holds true to every night in the past week, she'll awaken at some point, crying, at which I'll stumble out into the living room and yell up the stairs that "Mommy's right here, go to sleep!" Upon hearing those words, the cry will be cut off mid-scream and Violet will go back to sleep. It's the oddest thing.

The grandmas spent the night last night so Matt and I could have ourselves a date night with friends and they were amazed that Violet followed this routine to the letter. We instructed them to put Violet in bed, expect her to cry for two or three minutes, then remind her that they were still there (but under no circumstances were they to reenter the room or show their faces), and she would morph from screaming toddler to peaceful dreamer. And so she did. When we left I could sense the trepidation in the grandmas, but they held strong and sure enough, a minute or two of drama and Violet was passed out sweetly. Thanks, moms! You passed the test!

(I know ya'll are probably getting tired of hearing about this bedtime tap dance, but it's been at the forefront of our parenting story these days, so hear of it you must. Unless you choose to scoot on over to one of the other fabulous blogs you follow, where the moms have things far more under control than I... (or so you think... we're all in one big beautiful mess together, some of us just cover it up with more flair than others).)

Hit Me Baby One More Time

Do not let this adorable face fool you.

I sent Violet to daycare on Monday with a wee bit of trepidation, given our recent paci removal. In the afternoon when I picked her up, I eagerly read her daily report sheet, where her sweet teacher always leaves comments letting me know how the day went. Usually they are hilarious, such as this one:


"Violet had a great day! She cracks me up going around checking everyone's diaper lately... even mine!"

I wanted to know if there was paci drama at naptime, so I scanned down the sheet of facts (what she ate, how much, length of nap, activities, etc) to get to the comments. There, her teacher wrote what essentially boiled down to: no paci problems (positive!), but Violet was hitting her friends and laughing (negative!), still she gave sweet hugs (positive!)

Um, I'm a teacher, ya'll. I recognize the positive, negative, positive framework. That's code for: we have a serious problem but I'm going to break it to you gently and then try to soften the blow at the end.

So Violet had a tough day, to put it mildly. I did not raise this child to hit and then laugh about it. I was mortified and mad. And in a quandary about how to address the issue. It's not like I could take her home and put her in timeout - she wouldn't be able to connect her punishment to the crime. But it's not like I could have a serious lecture about it and expect it to resonate either - she's only two (almost). Cue parenting crisis.

I'm fairly lucky, I haven't had too many parenting dilemmas come up so far. But I have a feeling we're seeing the turn of the tide. I did end up talking to Violet and reminding her that she needs to be sweet to her friends. I made her show me gentle hands (she runs her palm lightly over my hand). We talked about not hitting. And I had to hope it would sink in and stick. (I also wrote a lengthy note to her teacher letting her know we were taking it seriously and how we were handling it so she could use the same terminology. As a teacher, I know it sucks sending notes home but it's so helpful if parents respond, at least with an acknowledgement of the situation. I need to know we're a team.) But is there anything else I can do with Violet to let  her know this behavior is not okay? Especially since it  happens when I'm not around?

I'm glad to report that today was better. I heard no rumors of hitting or other ugly behavior. And it's interesting... Dropping Violet off at school in the morning is generally drama. The teacher has to pry her from my arms and go into immediate distraction mode while I slip out, usually without even a hug or kiss lest the waterworks start up. And Mondays are the worst. But this Monday, after giving up her pacifier, Violet marched right into her room and didn't look back. Today as well, she charged in, gave me a "peace out mama" hug, and dismissed me without a second glance. Both days she was also happy when I picked her up, not the wailing tear-stained child clutching Elmo as though she's just been orphaned. It's like she morphed into a little grown-up after ditching "night-night". Perhaps it's just a coincidence, but I find it rather curious...

Letting Go

Watching Violet try to get over her need for her pacifier has been so hard. She has loved that thing something fierce. It has been the one constant companion she could count on every single night of her life. We put off getting rid of it because we anticipated the drama, and we were not mistaken. There has been much weeping and gnashing of teeth over the past few days. We really have been struggling to break an addiction. And as anyone who has ever watching Intervention can tell you, addiction is no easy monster to face.

I'm struggling right along with her. Because I had put my faith into that stupid little green piece of molded plastic. That sucker was my go-to guaranteed sleep inducer. The words "never leave home without it" never applied more readily. (In fact, I knew we had to do something about this dependency when we got halfway to Grandma's house before we realized it wasn't in the diaper bag and almost turned around to go get it. Grandma doesn't live down the block, ya'll.) I wasn't sure it was possible for Violet to fall asleep without it and I damn well sure wasn't going to give it a try. It was cold, hard fear. I was afraid of what might happen if we removed paci from the sleep equation. And it was selfishness. I happen to like my life with a full night's sleep in it, thank you very much.

But here's what happens when you put your faith in the wrong thing. It ultimately lets you down. This day was bound to come, it was. I knew Violet wasn't going to be taking paci to college, much less kindergarten. At some point we were going to have to pull the plug (ha! ahem.) And because God is awesome that way, He had this to say in my daily devotional Jesus Calling the very morning after we threw paci down the stairs and out of our lives:

I want you to be all mine. I am weaning you from other dependencies. Your security rests in Me alone - not in other people, not in circumstances, not in pacifiers.

Okay, I added that last part myself. But can't you just feel God's gentle "Hello? Do you get it now?" elbow nudge in your ribs? Our only guarantee in this life is God. He's the only thing worth putting our faith into. Because anything else is going to let us down, get lost or stolen or ultimately thrown down the stairs.

I've had some practice this year depending on God. Sometimes that faith in God and His plan was the only thing that propelled me out of my car and into the building in the morning.

Depending only on Me may feel like walking on a tightrope, but there is a safety net underneath... So don't be afraid of falling. Instead, look ahead to Me. I am always before you, beckoning you on - one step at a time.

Sometimes as moms (or just humans in general) we feel like we have to have all the answers, be experts at everything, be in control at all times with our entire future mapped out in perfect detail or life will be one chaotic, unbearable mess. It's nice to have this reminder that we're not supposed to be in charge (thank God!) We're not supposed to know it all. We're just asked to move forward with our eyes fixed straight ahead. And it's hard not to look down, to cast our eyes to the world around us and all its dependencies and addictions. It's hard not to seize the wheel and try to steer the ship ourselves. But one step is all it takes. One foot in front of the other.

So this is me trusting God for a full night of sleep again, and committing again to this tightrope walk we're on.

The Paci Wars

Ditching the pacifier. We've known for awhile that this day needed to come. But oh, how I was dreading it. Still, Violet is almost two (the recommended cut-off point for paci habits) and there's never going to be a perfect time.

So when I casually mentioned, yet again, to sweet Violet that she was a big girl now and big girls didn't need pacifiers (we've been having this conversation at least twice a week since Thanksgiving), I meant it but didn't expect anything. Except Violet readily agreed with me this time, and even willingly tossed her beloved "night-night" down the stairs (I told her to put it in the trash and as she reminded me, the trash can was downstairs - so down the stairs it flew).

Prior to this moment I had been planning to use the weekend to catch up on some sleep and relaxation, not wage a full-on paci war. But Matt and I looked at each other, shrugged, and wordlessly seized the opportunity.

It's been a bumpy road. We've taken to sitting in the upstairs hallway waiting for Violet to fall asleep. She seems somewhat comforted by having a glimpse of us out there. I give in to this whim because I used to be the same way. Many a night I can remember crawling into my parents' bed after a bad dream or just plain old loneliness. It wasn't enough to merely be in the same bed with them, though. I had to make sure some part of me was physically touching them. It was as though without the contact, they might vanish when I closed my eyes.

We've been up for at least an hour every night, middle of the night, dealing with heartbreaking wails of regret. My once easy-to-bed napper has struggled and cried and occasionally begged tearfully for her friend night-night. It's like having an infant again - each night we go to bed wondering if tonight will be the magical night we sleep until dawn.

Matt has been a solid rock, and I've never admired him more. That first night, he trudged upstairs to sit with Violet while I laid in bed praying for peace for my child and patience for my husband. He has refused to give in. (I, on the other hand, am so weak that I offered to crack at one a.m. that first night.) He has had words of praise for our big girl every morning, regardless of how little he slept. And the battle wages on. I'm actually looking forward to going back to work tomorrow, because it means Violet's teacher will get to deal with naptime. I realize I've taken for granted how easy Violet has been when it comes to sleeping. Paci's siren song was enough to get her upstairs and contentedly into bed. Now in a world without it, she stalls, she asks for one more book, one more song, she starts crying before we leave the room, she withholds kisses.

Dependency is a dangerous thing.

Thanks, Ya'll

I just wanted to write a quick note of thanks to my readers for two reasons...

You all had such sweet sympathies over the loss of our pet. Thank you for your kind words - it's nice to know people care. (Even those of you who had up close and personal experiences with her craziness still had nice things to say about Spooky.)

And I had so much positive feedback (mostly on fb) in response the the Marking Time post, from far and wide, from people I didn't even know stumbled upon this little ol' bloggy of mine. So that was nice, too. It seems like many of us moms and parents are in the same boat. And sometimes it's just nice to have company in that boat, to feel a little less alone, even if the water is still springing through the leaks at times.

It's sad to me that we moms seem to take such pleasure in comparing ourselves, criticizing each other, competing to be better, healthier, thriftier, more organic, or holier, when really, it turns out many of us feel quite the same way when you strip it all down. It can get outright vicious out here in blog land sometimes. (Not here-here, but you know what I mean.) Imagine if we all supported each other and carried each other through the tough times, instead of hurling verbal stones and rolling our eyes with hidden jealousy.

Anyway. I'll climb off my soapbox and leave you with a picture of breakfast in our house.

Early Birthday

This past weekend was the only one we could all find to gather together, so what the hey, we decide to go ahead and celebrate my birthday just a few weeks early.

Matt's present to me turned out to be a new, fancy Camera (which I still have no idea how to use to do it justice) and my new goal is to take some type of very basic, entry level, here's how to take a picture just slightly better than your average monkey photography class. You know, in all my spare time. But here are some highlights of the day (a la the Camera... which deserves a capital C).

My mom asked for some better photos of herself on the blog... hopefully this will meet approval.

Nah, they don't like each other at all!

Us pals.

Ooh, showing off the fancy black and white setting.

D and me.

Okay, so I realize these pictures actually don't do that great of a job telling you what we did. So. A couple years ago we started a tradition where we, my parents, Matt's parents, my brother and wife, and her parents (with me so far?) all get together for a little social hour. Normally it happens at New Year's, but this year it got pushed back until now. And my birthday was just another good excuse to party. So we spent a merry few hours fellowshipping (and threw in a couple birthday presents to make it extra festive).