How to Make Pancakes with a Toddler

One of my favorite things to do is cook, especially when I get to try a new recipe, and there's plenty of time to just enjoy creating something. I've wanted to include E, and I'm finding that, even as a toddler, there's so much she can help with in the kitchen. Also, anything that involves mixing, water, and getting messy is a big hit with kids her age, so it keeps her engaged.

She's stable on her feet, so I let her stand on a chair at the counter, out of reach of the stove, of course!

I have to note this first, because I'm the type of person who initially imagines how this is going to play out in my head, and it's like a scene out of an episode of the Brady Bunch -- pristine kitchen, child in an apron, stirring steadily, mother and daughter happily smiling at each other...: Expect a mess. On the Brady Bunch, there wasn't really batter in that bowl, and that family was being paid a lot of money to look happy all time.

1. Have your camera handy, but not too close to the cooking area. My phone was almost cooked into a pancake.
2. Find a mixing bowl that isn't too deep, that your toddler can see into.*
3. Give her a spoon. She can begin pretending to stir while you gather your ingredients (see below for the recipe I used).
4. As you'll see below, I substitute applesauce (or any kind of pureed fruit) for egg. This is because, your child is going to eat the batter at some point and, if they're anything like my darling daughter, will use the spoon as a catapult to fling batter at you and everything else in a 6-foot radius.
5. If you want, pour your ingredients into a separate bowl, one a time, and let your child pour into the main mixing bowl. E loves pouring, so it really keeps her interested.
6. Let her stir. Even if more ends up outside the bowl than in. It's just so cute.
7. Take pictures.
8. Let her dig her hands into the batter, eat it, wipe it on her shirt, in her hair.
9. Take more pictures!
10. Get your pan ready.
    
    *Before E was big enough to stir, I would put all of my ingredients for a cake or muffins into a big Ziploc bag, seal it up, and let E mix the ingredients by playing with the bag, mashing it with her hands, or stomping it with her feet. Just make sure to squeeze out any excess air before sealing it, to keep the bag from popping.

Here are a few ideas to keep your toddler busy while you cook the pancakes, or at least the first one for them to eat:

1. Let her spoon a enough batter for each pancake into a separate bowl or bowls. E didn't want to do this, so I tried something different:
2. Move her to the sink to rinse the bowls, spoons, and measuring cups you used. I use a strainer to keep the dishes within her reach. Of course, all she really did was pour water in and out of everything, but it did rinse the dishes and kept her busy until her pancake was ready.
3. While she eats, finish using the rest of the batter. This recipe only makes about 4 medium-sized pancakes, so it was quick.
4. Clean up whenever. By the time we were done, every inch of E was covered in batter and maple syrup, so she got a bath first.

Once I learned to let go of the messiness and the fact that there was going to be baby backwash in our pancakes, this ended up being a really fun thing to do together! I hope you enjoy cooking with your little one!

The recipe:
1 1/2 c. all-purpose flour
2 tbsp. white sugar (or more to taste)
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
1/3 c. applesauce (or 1 baby fruit pouch)
1 c. milk
2 tbsp vegetable oil

He Kept The...

I really wanted to get in a weekend post covering the prompts in the Bloggy Moms’ Blog Dare. So, I thought I’d do a weekend recap covering Friday (“He kept the…”), Saturday (“That was the only rational…”), and Sunday (“There’s no hiding it now.”)

I don’t write about my husband, Mark, very often, or at least I don’t usually dedicate an entire post to him. He appears in a supporting role in my stories about E, her ever-faithful friend, father, and valet. This weekend, as usual, he kept the family grounded. It’s hard to describe our relationship. It feels like… that, on any given day, I rotate roles from being the sea, the wind, the sailboat, the waves, the hurricane, the seagull, the homeless man, the mom, the child. He is always the shore. Always.

What does that mean? That means that, on Saturday morning, when I tried to keep everything straight in my head about what I needed to do before leaving the house: dishes, laundry, packing suitcases, E’s nap, shower, time for Mark’s shower, pick up living room, lunch, when to do freelance work, when to blog, when to proofread articles, doctor’s appointments, my parents visiting, wondering where my planner was … I had a meltdown. I stood over my suitcase, all these first-world problems swimming in my head, and I started crying. Shaking, wide-eyed. “Now I have to, um… brush my teeth? Wash my hair? I, um…” That was the only rational thing to do, wash my hair.

Mark came over and put his arm around me. “One thing at a time, okay? Let’s get E down for her nap, then we can focus on packing our suitcases and getting lunch. I’ll get ready now.”

Ok, and life continues as normal… one day, one hour, one minute at a time. My entire day is spent thinking ahead, trying to anticipate what will happen, prevent disaster, plan for celebration. I feel like my life has changed so much.

I told Mark a few weeks ago, “It’s just that – I need you to appreciate that my life has changed, in a drastic way. It’s not a bad thing at all… it’s just an adjustment, a huge adjustment. I used to work all day, come home, eat dinner, watch TV, and go to bed. Now, I get up, make lunches, get E’s stuff ready. I work the morning, pick her up, and I’m responsible for another life for the next 5+ hours… snack time, park time, bath time, dinner time, bed time. You, on the other hand, get up, help her get dressed, and you go on with your life as usual. Not much has changed for you. By the time you get home, E is in bed or almost in bed, and you get to eat dinner, watch TV, and relax in the evenings. I know I’m not always entirely denied that time, but our responsibilities aren’t the same. And it’s not that I want you to feel guilty for not being around… it’s that I want you to appreciate what I do, support me as much as you can, and help as often as you can.”

Yeah, that was a long soliloquy. Mark is not one to change his ways easily. He’s a man of habit, and he’s spent his entire lifetime doing things his own way without much need to change. He eases into change slowly, carefully, methodically.

It drives me f*cking crazy. I jump in head first, cause a huge splash, make a big mess, drag us through the chaos, then work my way backward, fixing things in reverse.

But, this is why he’s my shore – steady, changing slowly, methodically as the waves wash over him.

This weekend, he remembered things I had forgotten to pack, he thought to put gas in the car, he filled E’s sippy cup to take in the car. He thought ahead, he thought like me. He took care of E with the patience of a saint, and gave her all the support and encouragement that I would have given her as she moved through her day.

Every time I found some task finished in the house, some little thing he did for E, like remembering to put her morning milk in the fridge, I smiled. He was trying, and by trying I mean – doing exactly what I needed him to do in the quest for helping me survive this new, incredible life. He was trying to figure me out, anticipate what I needed -- before I had to tell him, when possible.

I know I'm lucky. I know I have more help than other moms, and often more than I deserve. I know he's the best dad for my little girl, letting her be both a tomboy and a little lady, sweetly catering to all her ever-changing needs.

And, there’s no hiding it now – I’m in love, like the first time. E does something sweet, and we smile at each other. We flirt over dinner dishes and laugh while wiping up pee off the floor.

Before we drove off to Mark’s parents’ house on Saturday afternoon, I asked him, teary-eyed, “Do you still love me?” He laughed and said, “I love you so, so, so much. More than ever.”

Huge sigh of relief… “Oh, good! Me too.”

We Spent Every Second...

I don't even know what to write about for this Bloggy Moms' Blog Dare. The only thing that I do "every second" is worry. What if E falls down, gets sick, gets a sunburn, gets bug bites? What if I... fall down, get sick, get a sunburn, get bug bites? What if we all die??

My anxiety is always worse with anything medical going on. I went in for a routine check up the other day and tests (just a follow up to my last episode with stomach pain), and the doctor had some minor concerns, so he sent me home but wanted me to come back next week for a quick, "just to make sure everything is ok" test. I did that, and the tests were positive for some kidney-related problems.

Ugh, I hate this stuff. Of course, I asked the stupid question, "Is there a risk this could be something serious?" My doctor said, "Well, yeah -- kidney disease." (panic) "What?" He stressed that he thought there was a low chance of it being that, but still... Did he have to just jump right into it like that? Couldn't he have started with... "I think you're at a low risk for this..."?

Anyway, I just did a round of 24 hour tests last night, and I woke up exhausted and wanting to sleep. I worry constantly. The only time I don't worry is when I pick up E. My mind must switch into mom-mode -- in which there's no room for worry.

When I was seeing a counselor for anxiety during my pregnancy, I would tell her that I was worried that I would be so worried that I would never enjoy my pregnancy. And, the same applies to having E now. If I can't let go of all this worry, how can I really enjoy my kid? Of course, I do. It's hard to focus on anything negative when she's around. The counselor also recommended another tactic. She said, "Every time you feel happy with your pregnancy, with your baby, take a time-out to just enjoy that feeling, relish it."

So, I've been doing that a lot lately. I hug her way too much, kiss her big baby cheeks. We rarely go home, because that doesn't offer enough distractions. We go to the park, to the beach, for stroller walks, to window shop.

Yesterday, we drove down a country rode and looked at the big houses, standing tall in perfectly manicured lawns, fields rising behind them, then mountains, darker mountains, and blue skies. I imagined living here. E must have thought the same thing, because she spoke up from the back seat and went on and on about everything she saw:

"Mommy! Look! A house! A big house! I want that house. (pointing to another house) I want that house! I want to buy a house. I want a house with flowers. I want a house with Mommy."

"Someday, bugaboo!" I say, as we happily dream.

The Scariest Move

Do any of you work in healthcare? Because I need you to explain something to me...

Ok, a little background info first: Today's Bloggy Moms' Blog Dare prompt is: The Scariest Move. I've made a lot of scary moves in my life -- literal moves, to a new state. I've made some scary life choices, and my daughter has been making some downright scary jumps off of the furniture lately, but today I have to write about how scared I am for the human race and their sheer lack of intelligence.

I will be the first to admit that I'm a tad ditzy, but when it comes to my day job, I'm pretty much on the ball -- mainly because I've been doing the same job or similar jobs for the last 13 years.

So, I have to ask myself, unless someone is a complete moron... how hard is it to be a receptionist in a medical office? I can see how there are responsibilities beyond the normal receptionist duties. I mean, I've had to hand them a poop sample, so I sympathize with the fact that they may have to handle fecal matter and wash their hands more often than a receptionist at... a real estate office. They also must have to deal with a lot of weird medical questions/symptoms. I'm trying to empathize here, and I would never just say, with 100% certainty, that anyone's job is easy, especially not having done the job myself.

However, when it comes to scheduling appointments, unless it's your first day(s) on the job, I expect you to be able to make things happen. The following has happened to me now, twice. The first woman, I gave her the benefit of the doubt. "Maybe she's just having an off-day," I thought.

When it happened a second time, today, I could only conclude that they're training people to respond this way to questions, regardless of the information they're given... or that... all people are idiots. Here was my conversation.

R (cheerily): Hello, Can'tFindOurAssesWithBothHands Hospital!
Me: Hi, I'm calling to make an appointment. I called earlier to schedule, but the doctor's office had made an error on the request. It's been fixed now, and they told me that I could call to schedule.
R: Have you scheduled an appointment?
Me: What? Is this an automated receptionist? (pushes 1 a few times)
R: Have you made an appointment?
Me: No, I need an appointment. (better stick to 4-word sentences)
R: Well, I don't see you in our system.
Me: Ok, well I can call back later. The doctor's office just said that I could call to schedule right away.
R: Ohhh... the papers are stuck together!! Here you are! Hahahaha!
Me: Heh. Ok, great.
R:When would you like an appointment?
Me: Well, what's available?
R (annoyed): This works much better if you tell me when you'd like your appointment.
Me: I'm not sure this is working at all. Um, ok. What's available in the next 2 days?
R: Well, what time do you prefer?
Me: Between 12 and 2 works best for me.
R: We have Friday at 11!
Me: What else is available, any time, on Thursday or Friday?
R: We only have Friday at 11.
Me: Hahaha! Ok... But, then... um. Why? Nevermind, ok.
R: Hahaha! So, should I put you down for Friday at 11?

She had no idea why I was laughing... and I still can't get over the fact that the last time I called a completely different doctor's office, the same thing happened -- the woman insisted I pick a time during a week span when I wanted to have my appointment. I insisted that she tell me what was available, since my schedule is pretty flexible. She actually got angry, made me tell her times that worked for me, then said, "We only have Thursday at 2."

Seriously, you're scaring me, healthcare system. Set up a robot to take my appointment, please.

I'm Going to Talk to Her

Another Bloggy Moms' Blog Dare! I'm Going to Talk to Her...

Melissa introduced me to this incredible pic!
Via the NicCageAsEveryone.blogspot.com blog!

Do you (or did you) find that as you grew into your role as a mom that it became increasingly easier to talk to people, especially about matters relating to your child?

I struggle with being confrontational. I was great at it when I was younger, but now I value my relationships more and want to handle matters in a mature, rational way, while causing the least amount of damage... instead of saying the first thing that pops into my mind... especially, because, let's face it, my mind is a strange place to be. One minute, I'm thinking about going for a walk in the park, the next what I'll make for dinner, and then, "Are fairies real?" and "What would Nicholas Cage look like as a Disney princess?" (shakes my head).

I also have a history of being somewhat offensive, both in- and unin-tentionally. If you get me angry enough, I may come out with a random, "Well, you smell like garbage" or "That's okay, at least I don't look like... Nicholas Cage dressed as a Disney princess."

And, I'm totally distracted right now, because my co-worker (the one whose wife must work for the Food Network) just opened a Tupperware container filled with freshly-heated goulash. The smell wafted right in my direction, and I'm going to attack him.

Ok, where were we? (wipes sauce off my face)

Oh yeah, it's hard for me to confront someone, even in my mellow, everything-is-okay way. To add to the internal struggles, my anxiety tells me things like, "Don't let E go near mosquitoes..." She plays outside near the woods at day care every day, and last year I got really concerned about mosquitoes and which nasty little diseases they might spread to my kid.

It was one of the first things I felt like I needed to discuss with E's day care teacher, and I struggled so much. Three days I went in, dropped E off with the teacher, said, "I'm going to talk to her," and left without saying anything. Then I worried all day that she'd come home with bug bites.

I don't know what I was more afraid of, bug bites, or the day care teachers thinking I was crazy. Finally, I went in on the fourth day, and tried for an opening to discuss it... "How has the weather been in the morning?" I said, casually. She said, "Fine, and the kids really love being outside!"

"BUT WHAT ABOUT MOSQUITOES!!??" I yelled, in my head.

Then calmly, "I've been worried about mosquitoes and all this talk about illness spreading via mosquito bites. Do you think I should bring in some bug spray for E? And are there any that would be environment-friendly and okay for a baby?"

Pretty sure she was wondering how we went from, "Fine weather we're having!" to "Where are the mosquitoes? How can I kill them all and protect the tiny, innocent children from their certain demise?"

But she was very professional and told me that they haven't had any mosquito problems, recommended some bug sprays if I was concerned, and told me not to worry. Then I was fine. I just had to talk it out, to put the "crazy" out on the table.

The good thing was that, the more I forced myself to talk to her, even about little things, the easier it got to talk to her about everything, and now we even joke about all my funny anxieties I had about E when she was a baby. E has been going to the same day care now for over a year, and I have a great relationship with the staff there. It's made the entire process so much easier, and I find it much easier to talk to people about what is and isn't okay when it comes to my kid!