Ruth Stoops

I have a happy baby.  It’s not a secret.  And while I try to pretend that if he is smiling, BEAMING, at you that it is because you are really special, you could honestly be a ceiling fan and get the same response.  He does that to his favorite people, toys, and blank walls.  He’s just so darn happy.

(Yes, that is spit-up all over his face.  Typical.)

That said, he has a very elusive Giggle.  Oh, sure, he’ll grunt and guffaw.  But the belly laugh, the squeal of delight,  The Giggle, has thus far been reserved for dad.  Layne has the special touch.  The man connection.  I have tried and tried to coax The Giggle out of him, but no luck.

Until this morning. (!)

Layne got up early with Landon while I caught a few extra Z’s.  When the time came for Layne to get going, I was totally and utterly unwilling to get out of bed, so Layne plopped him down next to me.  He played with his feet, exercised his lungs, and generally entertained himself for a good 15 minutes.  Finally, he got bored and started making the, “Mom - do something interesting” whines.  I pried my eyes open, and swung my hand onto his belly, hoping that a little Buddha-rub would quiet him down.  (What an excellent and energetic mother I am.)  Much to my surprise and delight, THE GIGGLE!  I wasn’t even trying!  Man, that was a great way to start my day.

I am tired and uninspired.  But, blog, I love you, so I will document this entirely uneventful, average, regular day.  Sunshine, groceries, blow-out poopy diaper, feeling overwhelmed, feeling underwhelmed, tickling chubby baby thighs, laundry, books, deep breaths, one more diaper.  Lovely.

I am in over my head.  I am a money-saving machine, and I am proud of it.  But my latest efforts in frugality have left me spinning.  My hope is that writing this all out will help me pop up for some much needed air.  I am being pulled in a bunch of directions, and I either need to figure out how to be more efficient, or something is going to give.

We do cloth diapers.  LOVE it.  It is satisfying to save so much money and to know that our family is reducing waste.  But Landon’s so big that we are needing to go to the third size up soon.  So, I did some research and found patterns to make my own.  That’s like a double-double money saver.  I have about half of the materials already.  Do I have time?  Ha.

I’m starting to make cloth wipes.  Easy.  Cut up some t-shirts, surge around the edges, make some wipe solution, Viola!  So far, I’ve cut up t-shirts.  : )

I’ve entered into the wild, wild world of “Couponing”.  It’s a culture, and there is a STEEP learning curve.  Not to mention the lingo that I have yet to learn.  But I’m encouraged - today I got 3 boxes of pasta and sauce for free, and used about $10 of coupons, saving 40% of the total bill.  Sounds perfect, right?  Well, after poring over dozens of deals that actually wouldn’t be deals - for things we don’t ever buy, or don’t want to buy (sorry, Pillsbury and Nestle) - I can see how this is going to change the way I shop.  Rather than buying what’s on my list for the week, I’ll need to make my list off of what deals are available.  That is going to take a lot of getting used to.  I’m going to stick with it and see if I can keep up.  The Krazy Coupon Lady’s site has been SUPER helpful in getting me started.

I am starting a vegetable garden.  I am desperately in love with the little, budding, hopeful plants.  Watching them stretch out of the soil is so satisfying and exciting.

Layne built me the table for the light - so handy!  I’ll pay him back with yummy salads.

I have committed to baking bread once a week.  Franz usually has pretty good deals on their HFCS and trans-fat free breads, but baking from scratch is just cheaper.  And it makes the whole house smell good.

I’ve taken the plunge into cooking Nepali food. It’s not saving a ton of money, since there is so much fresh produce involved, but MAN is it good!  After following Laxmi around in the kitchen, I’ve gathered a little clarity on what the ingredients are.  They don’t use measuring cups or recipes, though, so I feel a little out of my league.  However, meal #1 was surprisingly close to the mark.  YUM.

So my project list is pretty full.  And have I mentioned that I have a 4-month old?  Who is too cute for words and highly distracting?

I’m also still working about 10 hours per week for Global Neighborhood.  It’s great and fulfilling, and I couldn’t ask for a better job.

Whew.  I guess when your plate is this full, all you can do is dig in!  I hope I can somehow manage to balance with a little grace.

Our lovely family friends, the Lonneviks, used to make these when we lived together for a few months.  Yum, yum.  They didn’t have an exact recipe, so this was my best guess at how to make them:

• 1lb Ground Beef
• 1/2 Large Onion
• 1/2 Head of Cabbage
• Salt and Pepper, to taste
• Double Recipe of Dinner Roll Dough

First, prepare your dough.

I cheated and used my bread machine.

Next, grab your meat.  I used good, ol’, organic Montanan beef.  (Thanks, Mom!)

Chop the onions.

Combine and brown the meat.

Meanwhile, chop the cabbage.  Isn’t it pretty?

Add cabbage to meat/onions.  Add salt and pepper.

While that cooks down, prepare rolls.

I quickly realized as I was making this that one small batch of rolls was not enough.  Next time I’ll make a double batch.

Separate dough, and flatten into discs.

The filling is done cooking when cabbage is tender.

Scoop a ladle full onto the roll.

Wrap the sides around the filling and pinch the seams.

This was by far the most tricky part for me…

The first one I tried got too thin and tore, so make sure you don’t flatten your dough too much.

Place, seams down, on a lightly greased baking sheet.

Bake at 350 degrees, until the dough browns.  About 15 minutes for my oven - which is an antique, so pay attention to yours!

Voila!

(You can see the ugly, first roll in the back left corner.  It’s ok to be different, baby roll.  You still tasted so good!)

Don’t forget the Special Sauce!  Mayo + Mustard.  So delicious, so easy.

YUM.  I half expected them to taste terrible because I was craving them so hard.  And I always doubt that my own food will taste good as the “real thing”.  But they did NOT disappoint.

It also helps if you have a spare husband around, to tell you that your Cabbage Burgers are “magical”.

This guy looks like he would know magic when he tastes it.

Enjoy!!

I cried a lot as a kid.  Like, A LOT.  Apparently, I used to tell my mom that I just needed to “get my cries out”.  So I wouldn’t always cry because I had a scraped knee, or was called a name on the bus.  Sometimes I just felt the weight of the world on my little shoulders and it felt good to let it all out.

Some things never change.

This weekend was packed full of really exciting, hard, wonderful, and frightening events.  Friends are welcoming another child into their family.  My family in Alaska feels so far away, and hearing my nephews’ voices makes my heart ache to hold them - I am missing so much of their lives.  Exciting things are happening at Global Neighborhood which have the capacity to bless many, but will very likely take hours and energy that I just don’t know I have.  I met several new people, made a few laugh, and made a total ass out of myself too.  I was inspired by the good work of UGM and their commitment to the poor.  I was sickened by acts of racism and bigotry, encouraged by honest and respectful political dialogue, humored by my beautiful son, and deprived of sleep due to late night conversations and early morning feedings.

=

Today I have cried a bucket of tears.

The world is a sick, messed up place, where there is enough beauty and goodness that your heart fills to the point of breaking ribs.  How can one contain it all?!  I know I can’t.  I am filled to be emptied, and it feels good to just get my cries out.

I’m getting bold in my old age.  Or maybe just stupid.  Anyhow, I decided to cut my own hair.  To give myself The Bang.  You know the one - the straight across, don’t-mess-wid-me, I’ve got style Bang.  Too bad I DON’T actually have style….and too bad I don’t actually even know how to cut hair.  The wiser half of me was screaming, “Noooooo”, as the scissors neared my face.  But you only live once, no?  And hair grows.  I’m not really sold on it yet, but Layne likes it and Landon still recognizes me.

It’s not perfectly straight, but I am convinced that it CAN’T be, because my hair keeps moving all over.  Eh, good enough!

I have been training for Bloomsday for about a month now.  It got me moving, and I am so grateful that I can run again!  We have had beautiful weather and I am falling in love with my neighborhood, my iPod, and these long legs of mine.

However, as the training gets more intense, I have to find more and more time to be away from Landon or else arrange to borrow a jogging stroller.  Have you ever tried to run with one arm?  While pushing 20 lbs around?  The joy has quickly been sapped from my exercise and instead of feeling motivated, I feel fear and pressure about the rapidly approaching deadline.  Every time I get comfortable at the mileage, it increases - making me feel that incompetent, awkward feeling again.  So, I have decided to say no.

NO.  No Bloomsday for me.  No feeling guilty for changing my mind.  No cheating myself out of enjoying my short runs.  No beating up this dear ol’ body.  She’s been through a lot recently, she’s not getting good rest at night, and she’s constantly fighting dehydration from nursing that hungry, chubby babe.  She doesn’t have to prove anything.  Not to me, not to anyone.

I’m reading Anne Lammott’s, Operating Instructions: A Journal of My Son’s First Year. An excellent read, as long as you don’t mind the F-word, vicious hate for Republicans, and pure, vivid honesty about what mothering looks like from the inside out.  Anyways, I just loved this quote:

My therapist, Rita, has convinced me that every time I say yes when I mean no, I am abandoning myself, and I end up feeling used or resentful or frantic.  But when I say no when I mean no, it’s so sane and healthy that it creates a little glade around me in which I can get the nourishment I need.  Then I help and serve people from a place of real abundance and health, instead of from this martyred mentally ill position, this open space in a forest about a mile north of Chernobyl.

Um, YES.

The place of boundaries, or the lack thereof, has been big in my life.  I am predisposed to over-commitment, false guilt, and general anxiety about not being perfect.  It’s genetic.  I have prayed long and hard that my kiddos won’t get that gene, that somehow Layne’s incredible and obnoxious optimism pummel it and take its place in their DNA.  We’ll see.

I am saying Yes to a lot of things these days.  Peace, self-love, baby kisses, and running jogging.  I may not be up for running 7.5 miles, but you had better believe that I’m going to take Bloomsday’s walking stroller division by storm.

I haven’t really documented your life very thoroughly.  We don’t have a baby book, I don’t have a blog dedicated to each month of your life, and I didn’t even take a weekly picture of my growing belly while I was pregnant with you.  Do I feel a little guilty?  Of course.  But I trust that you will know I love you not based on the time I spent cutting up pictures of you and preserving our memories, but by the multitude of kisses and I-Love-You’s you get every day.

Still, there are some important things I want to remember about this time with you:

• You are such a happy boy!  Your grin is absolutely brilliant and I am addicted to it.  My dignity is diminished daily as I try new faces and voices to get you to break into that smile.
• You like to fart while you eat.  It’s hilarious, but as of yesterday, it started to smell.  I want to remember when it was just cute.  I have a feeling you will think it is funny for many, many years.
• The sun makes you sneeze.  But, luckily for Dad, you stopped shooting out sinus plugs every day about 2 months ago.
• You LOVE your bath, but your skin is so sensitive that we can’t wash you every day.  (You got that from your Mom.)  You have all these little rashes on your arms and legs, but you never complain.  Such a tough little guy.  (You got that from your Dad.)
• You don’t really like to sleep through the night yet, but you are a good napper.  Thank you.  You have gone to sleep on your own since you were 5 weeks old and I am utterly grateful for that.  The noises you make while you are sleeping are ridiculous, loud, and constant, but the earplugs that Dad and I wear do a pretty good job.
• You grunt when you are tickled.  I hope that someday it develops into a laugh, but for now, I love torturing that noise out of you.
• You have your Daddy’s feet, my mouth, your Granny’s stunning eyes, and your Great-Grandpa Russel’s big thumbs.  Your belly-button is all your own, though, and we still can’t figure out what color your hair is.
• The first time I cut your fingernails, I made you bleed.  The other day I pinched your scalp in between my chair and desk while you were nursing.  The first day we were all alone, I took a shower and forgot the monitor - you were SCREAMING when I got out.  And yet, every morning when you wake up and see me, you break into a huge grin and kick out your chubby little limbs, and I know you still love me.  I pray you are always this gracious and forgiving of my mistakes.

I want to give you space to explore your world, and freedom to become your own man.  You are already so independent and good natured.  But I’ve got to be honest, kid.  You have absolutely stolen my heart and I do not know how I will survive watching you scrape those knees, get picked on at school, get your heart broken by some clueless girl, or face the darkness of this world.  You have raised the stakes SO high in my life, and the only thing that compensates for how much I have to lose now is how much you bring to our family.  You are a light, an incredible joy, a mother’s great pride.

I love you, Landon.  Every pudgy little inch of you.

It’s 3:42 am.  I am doing my best to ignore my crying/whining baby.  We are resolved to let him “cry it out” tonight.  He’s slept through this feeding several times before, so I know he will survive, but that fact doesn’t really make me feel like a better mom.  Ugh.  This sucks.

I’m nervous even sharing this.  I fear that my readers - you dear, dear people - are going to judge me:

“She’s one of those moms?  Doesn’t she realize babies cry when they need something?  They’re only babies for a short while, girl.  BUCK UP.  That poor baby.  Poor, deprived, eternally scarred baby.”

OR

“HOW old is her baby?  Four months?!  This is the first time she’s trying this?  What a wuss.  She’s totally letting that baby call the shots in her home.  My 5 kids all slept through the night at 3 weeks.  Get some backbone, woman.”

Well, maybe those aren’t thoughts from you all.  Maybe those are the crazies in my head duking it out.   Maybe all of you trust us as parents and realize that we think this particular child is ready for this particular response at this particular time.  Maybe.

It’s amazing how much I want validation that I’m “doing it right”.  Who even has permission to tell me that?  I don’t know.  Then again, I don’t know much at 3:53 am.

*Yawn*  Ok - knock on wood, y’all - it’s been quiet for a few minutes.  I think he fell asleep again.

………………………………………………………………………………

Not only was he asleep, but he was making those sweet, contented sighs when I went down to our room.  VICTORY!  He slept for another solid 3.5 hours, and smiled at me when he woke up this morning.  I guess he doesn’t think I’m a terrible mom after all….which is good, considering he’s my boss.

Let’s be honest - I didn’t have a good night’s sleep.  After the 30 minutes of waiting for him to fall asleep, I laid in bed for another hour waiting for my brain to slow down (busy work week).  Then, I woke up before Landon and had that irrational, but common, oh-my-gosh-is-he-breathing? panic and had to check his crib before I could fall asleep again.  BUT, I think this is the start of something good, and I woke up encouraged.

Lord, sleep is great.  I need it and so does this babe.  Here’s to nights of uninterrupted rest, for they are coming to the Stoops home!  (Eventually…)

I’m in a funk.

Here are some of my reasons:

• Too many of my soul-mate friends live far away.
• Lots of people died this week, and I knew some.
• Relationships are hard work and sometimes you give when you really, really want to take.
• My playlists are getting old.
• I’m at war with my body.
• The only thought I had at 3:00 am today was, “I want my money back.”   What kind of mother am I?  Besides, I didn’t keep the receipt.