Adventures in Domestic Divinity: The Widget's Apple-Oatmeal Muffins

One of the most difficult challenges in dealing with The Widget's dietary restrictions is baking breads, muffins, cookies, and the like. While I can at least use yeast, which allows me to actually make real bread (something I was never able to successfully accomplish back when I was doing this for DramaBoy), having to avoid gluten AND rice, soy, corn, and buckwheat makes the task....interesting. There are many fabulous food-sensitivity recipes out there these days, thanks primarily to the other bloggers who have similar issues in their households (check out the links down on the right hand margin), so I don't have to do everything from scratch. However, as I've become more familiar and comfortable with the different Funky Flours I use, I've been able to play around with conventional recipes as well.

I've been wanting to get more fiber into The Widget's diet, because he inherited certain, um, issues from a grandparent that make visits to the toilet another challenge. (Thank God the child likes prune juice. Just sayin'.) I also recently discovered that there IS such a thing as gluten-free oats! Therefore, I am not limited to using quinoa flakes in the place of oats. They generally are a good alternative, but they have a distinctive taste that doesn't work with everything, they are very fine in texture, and I don't like overloading The Widget's system with any one ingredient (which can trigger new sensitivities).

So today I checked some options on the Intarwebz and, praise be to the Google gods, found a simple recipe that I could easily adapt. With no further ado, I present you with:

The Widget's Apple-Oatmeal Muffins*

• 1 cup dry gluten-free rolled oats (Bob's Red Mill makes some that should be readily available at Whole Foods or the like)
• 1 cup almond milk mixed with 1 Tbsp white vinegar (replacing sour milk or buttermilk)
• 1 medium egg
• 1/2 cup brown or white sugar
• 1/3 cup canola oil
• 1/4 cup tapioca starch
• 1/2 cup sorghum flour
• 1/2 cup almond flour/meal (Avoid Bob's Red Mill's almond flour, as it seems to be too heavy for baking. I order mine from nutsonline.com)
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 teaspoon safe baking powder (Be careful if you need to avoid corn and gluten! Hain Pure Foods makes a cornstarch- and gluten-free baking powder)
• 1 cup peeled, finely chopped apples

In a large bowl, combine the oats and almond milk/vinegar and let stand for a few minutes so that the oats absorb some of the liquid. In a separate small bowl, beat the egg and oil together. Add to the oats/milk mixture along with the sugar. Beat well with a wire whisk. Mix together the flour, baking soda, salt and baking powder in a separate bowl, then add to the oat mixture. Mix until all of the dry particles are moistened, using about 20 or 30 strokes by hand--do not over beat! Add the apples and mix in quickly.

Spoon the batter into a dozen lined muffin cups. Bake at 400 degrees for 20-25 minutes. Allow to cool for a few minutes, then remove to a wire rack. Fabulous for a healthy snack or breakfast-on-the-go!

*adapted from Hillbilly Housewife's recipe for Oatmeal Muffins

Twinkle, Twinkle

Do you find that blogging helps you work through your emotions? asked my sister the other day, as I was venting to her in a long-overdue phone conversation.

Yes, yes I do. In fact, it was a crucial part of working through my depression and anguish and slow healing when my first marriage imploded, not to mention dealing (at long last) with a number of other issues that bubbled to the surface when I finally got help. Read my archives from 2009 and see what I mean.

Writing is a release for me, but I have discovered that I need an audience in order to write effectively. Private journals are worthless. Emails to a handful of people feel...insufficient. Blogging is a perfect solution, right?

Except that the anger and stress and anxiety with which I am dealing right now aren't mine to share with the world. Well, I mean, they're my emotions and whatnot, but they're about people and situations that leave me voiceless here. To write about what's going on would violate people's privacy and, quite possibly, make the situation worse.

So I'm usually silent. On here, at any rate. And Facebook.

(Because I'm not going to be one of Those People, that's why.)

***********************

Christmas is a shining light in the midst of this swirling darkness, let me tell you. Or, more aptly, an array of twinkling lights. We have pledged not to go so overboard financially this year (I got a little carried away last year), but there are ways (other than the obvious wallet-related one) in which that's better anyway. I am thinking more carefully about what to get for each person, and I'm making a few as well. I'm also working with the kids to choose gifts for MTL and each other, because I believe strongly that children should give and not just receive.

I love making gifts for Christmas. It takes me back to my own childhood, when my sister and I rarely had any money of our own to spend on gifts for our parents or each other. We would make a sign for our bedroom door declaring it official Santa's Workshop territory and denying entrance to everyone else. Then we'd take odds and ends of this and that, raiding our mother's extensive craft cupboard for much of what we needed, and we'd make all sorts of amazing gifts. Looking back, I'm rather astonished by our creativity. Two different years we created panoramas for our mother. The one I remember most was this extraordinarily detailed rendition of a market stall, with "bolts" of fabric on the walls, little drawers made from matchboxes containing bric a brac, and people made from twigs and clothes pegs and beads. There was a woman with braided hair trying on a shoe (a singleton from a Barbie pair), a male merchant displaying cloth, and a woman unmistakably meant to be our mother examining the fabric.

This, my friends, is what happens when kids have lots of free time and no real access to electronics of any kind. IMAGINATION. CREATIVITY. FUN. <insert cantankerous grumbling about "kids these days">

I'm fairly certain the month leading up to Christmas was the one time of year my sister and I actually worked or played together in Peace and Harmony.

So this year I'm making a few gifts, and I'm helping my little KlutzGirl, who is never so happy as when making or drawing something, to make a few as well. In those moments, looking at the work of my hands and knowing that I'm demonstrating my love for the recipients in a very tangible way--that's when those lights twinkle brightly enough to drive the shadows aside for a breath of time.

***********************

Part of the challenge of blending families is blending holiday traditions. MTL and I have been fairly fortunate. We aren't in direct opposition with any of it, especially since his traditions are more general and mine more specific. Last year I introduced a number of Christmas traditions to my new family, including putting an angel on the top of the tree, making Christmas Eggs for breakfast, and forbidding the children to leave their bedrooms on Christmas morning until they hear Christmas music start playing. When they emerged at last, impatient and excited, they found the Christmas tree piled 'round with presents, candles lit, and hot chocolate waiting for them.

They seemed to enjoy it, but one never knows how kids will react to New Ideas. On Sunday as we were waiting in the car for MTL to join us, The Padawan asked if we were going to do Christmas morning the same way this year.

What do you mean? I asked.

Like the music, he replied. I liked waiting until I heard the music and then coming down. Oh, and are you going to make those egg things again?

You mean the Christmas Eggs? I asked.

Yeah! Those were awesome.

Yeah! I liked all that too! chimed in KlutzGirl. And the hot chocolate and the candles and stuff. Are we doing that again?

As if I'd miss the chance to see those smiles on their faces!

***********************

This morning I proctored the first half of the PLAN test, since it's being administered to all the sophomores today and my first class of the day was a sophomore class. As I wandered up and down the aisles in the gym, I felt a sudden surge of warmth wash over me. These kids, these teens...they're annoying and frustrating and obnoxious as hell on a daily basis, but I love working with them. It's hard to remember sometimes these days, surrounded as we are by such negativity and derision directed toward my profession. I'm even looking into a new career path, because realistically I may not be allowed to remain in my career for sheer financial and political reasons. It's an ugly time to be a public school teacher, people.

But this morning, as I looked at row after row of faces, many of which I know, I felt the warmth and worth of what I do (yes, even when proctoring a damn standardized test), of working with these children caught on the cusp of adulthood. They are worth the sweat and tears and stress and time we pour into them every day, every week, every year.

I don't know how much longer I'll be a teacher, and I won't feel those warm fuzzies every day, but no one can make me regret the years I spend here.

***********************

It's a rough road I travel, at times. As my dear friend Amy said a couple of weeks ago, we are not women destined for smooth and easy lives. It would be lovely to win the lottery and not have to worry about money or debt any more. It would be lovely for the politicians to all have epiphanies and start working for the regular people instead of the corporations. It would be lovely for certain individuals to either undergo miraculous personality transformations or just....disappear.

I don't think any of those are likely to happen, alas. Life is not that neat and tidy.

But there are compensations. There are rewards for the pain. Sometimes the twinkling lights and silver linings are dimmed by the shadows and mist, but they exist.

They shine in the moments when my students understand a new concept, get excited by a piece of literature, and find safe harbor in my classroom.

They shine in the smiles on my children and stepchildren's faces, can be heard in their laughter as they rough and tumble with each other each afternoon after school, siblings in action and deed rather than just name.

They shine in the touch and looks and words of my beloved husband, who laid his head against me last night and told me he had never dreamed he would ever find his Home.

Twinkle on, Life. Twinkle on.

...laugh, leaning back in my arms

for life's not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis

--e. e. cummings

No Escape From Reality

Single mommyhood. Rollercoaster rides. They have much in common, only single mommyhood has more screaming.

Last night was a Toggle Day, and I arrived at the boylets' school to be greeted by the news that The Widget had officially completed his transition from Early Learners (30-36 mos) to Skill Builders (3-4 years), better known as *sob* Preschool. It's official. My not-so-babyish baby is a preschooler. He proudly showed me his new cubby and the pretty picture he had drawn for me and announced, I went potty in the TOILET!!!

Imagine this said in an adorably squeaky little Widget voice and your heart will melt much as mine did.

Then we went outside to collect DramaBoy off the playground, where he bounced over to me with a treasure clutched in his fist. His fingers uncurled to present me with....

A WORM.

I heroically fought down my shudders, exclaimed appropriately over its Awesome Worminess, and suggested that perhaps he needed to put it back in the dirt where it lives. Thank the dear Lord above he didn't try to bring it home as a pet. I draw the line at...well, at pretty much anything nonmammalian, and most mammals too. I'd rather not even have the frickin' dog, but that's a story for another day.

(Dog lovers, please don't hate me. If you knew the story, you'd understand. Some of my readers already do. Trust me on this.)

So, happy and wormless, we headed home; the Widget playing happily with a Viewmaster and DramaBoy spelling words on his little toy computer, myself singing (and dancing, because that's how I roll) along with the radio.

This was the Fun Part.

Once we got home, the ride took a sinister turn. I committed the great sin of lifting The Widget out of the car rather than letting him get out by himself, and the resulting tantrum wended its way from the garage floor to the hallway floor to his bed, where I informed him he could stay until he got himself under control.

DramaBoy made snarky comments from the sidelines. Which made things SO MUCH EASIER.

And it went downhill from there. I found myself dealing with a temporarily bipolar Widget, a DramaBoy who kept changing his mind which game he wanted me to watch him play and losing his patience with my inability to focus on any of them, a phone call from a bill collector for a credit card I'd forgotten about, a dear friend who needed to vent on Facebook, and a dog demanding to be fed. I was also trying to make dinner, change out of my work clothes, counsel MTL over the phone about his daughter's school issue, and not scream at anyone.

Finally I had enough. I shut down everything. I let the oven keep heating without putting in the biscuits, put the phone on silent, and sat down (in pajama pants and my work shirt) with a kidlet on either side.

We watched this



and then this



and then this



and then I let the now happy and giggling boylets sit on the couch by themselves and watch this



while I changed my shirt, popped the cheesy biscuits in the oven, heated the soup, finished my conversation with MTL, and got dinner on the table.

Then I sat down with my boylets, put on Barenaked Ladies' Snacktime CD (my favorite children's album, because with song lyrics like these, how could I not love???) and we ate our meal while singing and dancing along.

There was a brief hiccup in the bliss when DramaBoy temporarily objected to the soup selection before he'd even taken a bite.

What kind of soup is this? he asked. I don't like green soup.

It's broccoli soup, I answered. You love broccoli.

I like BROCCOLI, he responded, but I don't like broccoli SOUP.

I'll confess right here that I lied to him. Without even a twinge of conscience.

Of course you do! I said. You liked it the last time you had it!

Oh, okay! he said, and that was that.

Keep in mind that yes, DramaBoy does love broccoli, but he has never had it in soup form before. I FEEL NO SHAME. Sometimes you just do what you have to do to survive.

After all, you never know what's coming once you crest that next hill. That drop might be a bitch.

I'll admit, they're awfully cute. I guess I'll keep them. For now.

The Numbers Say I Win Mommy of the (Yester)Day

This weekend was crazy busy. And I mean CRAZY BUSY. There are times when I get a little taste of being SuperMom again, and this was one of them. When that occurs, I feel the need to pat myself on the back. Because I survived.

Besides, it doesn't happen that often these days. I'm far more often Lazy Bad Mommy than Productive Good Mommy, to tell the truth.

Sigh.

So here's the breakdown of my weekend:

Friday--ran around to multiple locations trying to find party supplies, especially the all-important Dinosaur Stuff. Limited success. The children's blessed grandmother had more success, because she is the Queen of Dollar Stores, and I ended up meeting her to get the DS she found. Then I scooped up the kids from school, picked up Lucky Duck Pizza, and headed home. My parents called all the way from West Africa just as we were pulling in, so the boys and I had a nice long chat with them. Then it was time for the kidlets to take a bath and watch tv until they fell asleep go to bed, and then I attempted to sort out stuff for the party. Around 9:30 I realized I had no eggs for the cupcakes. And that my cell phone was nowhere to be found. MTL came to the rescue shortly after 10 with eggs delivered to my door as well as a handy cell-phone-ringing service. My phone, it turns out, was nestling in the big bed along with my kidlets, nicely camouflaged in the matching comforter.

I finished my baking and got to bed around midnight.

Saturday--The party happened, and happened well, despite the nasty weather gods. The Widget then went off with his grandma for several hours, while I cleaned up and then took DramaBoy and MTL's daughter K to meet up with MTL and his other kids to see How To Train Your Dragon. In 3D. Which was awesome. DramaBoy dealt with it pretty well, but said he didn't really like it because HIS dragon was not in the movie. Remind me to tell DreamWorks that they really need to work his personal toys into their films from now on.

Then I picked up The Widget, where we were fed thank God because I was so tired by their blessed grandma, and we went home. To collapse.

Sunday--You'd think that after all the craziness of the weekend so far I would have stayed on the couch all day as is my modus operandi. But no. We didn't go to church because The Widget's sniffles had turned into a nasty cough and misery. Instead, I accomplished mighty deeds. No training dragons and saving the village, but nevertheless. In one day, I managed to do the following:

• went grocery shopping with 2 boys in tow (thank God for the car carts at Meijer)
• washed and dried 6 loads of laundry
• folded and put away 9 loads of laundry (there were already 3 loads of kids' clothes sitting in baskets)
• washed 1 load of dishes
• decluttered and tidied the kitchen, dining room, and master bedroom
• collected 4 garbage bags of trash from around the house
• collected 1 giant garbage bag of giveaway clothes (from going through the kids' clothes and some of mine)
• monitored 2 little boys as they put away their toys
• medicated and comforted 1 little boy with a cold
• cooked chicken and dumplings for dinner for 6 people
• drove to Grosse Point Woods and back to drop off the 1 little boy with a cold with his grandpa, who is watching him today so that I can go to work
• packed for my 2 days away from the house

Oh yes. I am that awesome.

Some days.

Today? I'm planning on getting through the work day, going to physical therapy, and collapsing.

TeacherMommy out.

I'm Pretty Sure Dinosaurs Don't Like Snow. Isn't That What Killed Them Off? Perhaps I Was Tempting Fate.

I don't know which weather deity I ticked off when I moved into this house, but for the last six years about three-fourths of the parties I plan (or are planned in honor of me) have been cursed with snow. As in massive snowstorms, many of them.

You'd think a birthday party planned for April 17th would escape the curse.

You'd be wrong.

I knew the weather was supposed to be a little chilly and windy today. I did not, however, cancel my reservation for the gazebo in the park nearby, because we're Michiganders, dagnabit, and temps in the low fifties are No Big Deal.

Ha.

I was a little worried when I was loading things into the car and spotted a few particles that looked suspiciously like random snowbits. It was only ten in the morning, though, and the temp was in the mid-forties. I had to be seeing things.

The kite-making went well. DramaBoy and The Widget were joined by MTL's youngest daughter K, and they all had fun decorating their own kites. Then we put them together with little rods and string and label stickers. Flying the kites was no problem, either. The Widget dropped his on the ground shortly after getting outside, and when he tugged at it, the wind caught it and UP IT WENT!!!

For being a newb at kite flying, he was pretty dang good. Mostly I just kept an eye on him to make sure he didn't get tugged into the parking lot.

But then the wind began to blow in earnest. And along came the snow. My friend M, who was driving with her husband and daughter to join us, said the temperature dropped nine degrees in ten minutes. When The Widget began crying because he was so cold, we decided to give up and head back to the house.

Thank God for the boys' father and grandmother, who scooted through the house cleaning like mad while I waited at the park to direct stragglers in the right direction. We somehow managed to put everything together and had a great party, sudden changes in plan notwithstanding. Since it was too cold for the kids to go outside, I didn't even have to worry about the horrendous state of the yard!

It all worked out. But I think I need to figure out what propitiations need to be made in order to rid myself of this curse. I know it's Michigan, but people are starting to talk.

And I LIKE parties.

Also: WEATHERPEOPLE SUCK. No one said anything about snow.

Gratuitous photo evidence, with captions:

The Widget has a very free-form artistic approach.

Two blondes with kites

(good name for a band)

Up, up, and away!

It's a wrapper! It's a plastic bag! No...it's a kite! (No, really.)

He had on three layers and STILL ended up shivering and crying. Sigh.

Dinosaur cupcakes! Brilliant brainchild of SoccerSister (and some others, but she beat them to the punch). They almost didn't happen. I thought I had eggs and discovered at 9:30 last night that I did not. MTL came to the rescue by dropping off some eggs and calling my phone, which had managed to get lost somewhere in the house. It was a fun night, let me tell you.

Rawr.

The spread. Again, kudos to my friends and family who gave me ideas for what to get. Also HUGE thanks to the boys' grandma, who used her magical shopping skillz to track down all the dinosaur Stuff that I could not seem to find ANYWHERE.

The Widget kept rolling his eyes while we sang to him. It was very teenager. I wish I could have captured it on camera.

But then he made up for it with a huge grin. The chocolate may have helped.

PRESENTS!!!! There were many dinosaurs. We have several dozen inhabiting the house now. Also: a happy Widget. And that, my friends, makes it all worthwhile.

The Older They Get, the Tougher Planning These Things Gets. What Was I Thinking???

I've always been of the opinion that children's birthday parties should be fairly simple and low-key, especially when the children in question are quite young. I've heard about the incredible extravaganzas that some people put on for their tots, complete with petting zoos ("We come to you! Added bonus: excellent excuse to replace your whole lawn afterward!"), inflatable bouncy thingies, clowns (Ack! Really, who thinks kids LIKE those creepy things?), cakes from specialty shops...In other words, people will spend the equivalent of a small wedding budget on a birthday party for a child who may, at most, have some hazy images imprinted on his/her mind for a while.

Ridiculous.

In the past, all my kidlets' parties have been held at the house. There have been a few snacks, a cake, some balloons and festive party plates, a few inexpensive favors for the young guests. The guests themselves have been limited to family members and a few close friends who also have young children. Fun was had by all. In a very low-key, inexpensive way.

The Widget, however, is having a party this Saturday, and I'm doing things just a touch differently.

First, the party will not be at the house. I have two reasons for this: (1) I really don't feel like cleaning up the house that much and there isn't all that much room on the main floor, and (2) I'd rather have the party at a neutral location, especially because DramaBoy keeps getting confused when his father and I happen to be at the house simultaneously. He's still working through the idea of our separation being a permanent thing.

So I have rented (yes! rented!) a small gazebo at a marvelous little city park nearby, one that has a built-in farm/petting zoo for the delight of our guests as well as a very nice playground that's safely enclosed and has plenty of seating and shade for adults. In addition, the Parks Department is holding a little kite-making and -flying event that morning for kids of all ages. What perfect timing. It's supposed to be in the mid-fifties that day, but shouldn't rain. Let's keep our fingers crossed on that one!

The second big difference is that I actually invited The Widget's little classmates from his Early Learners class at daycare. I decided that since this is happening out of doors and I don't have space issues, I could manage it. Also, I kind of delayed putting this thing together, so a number of The Widget's little friends who are the children of my friends can't come. The more the merrier, right? And even though I know not all of them will be able to come, there should be enough little people running around to keep my boylet happy.

Now I just have to figure out what I'm going to serve them all for a light picnic lunch, how to decorate cupcakes to reflect a kinda-sorta dinosaur theme, and try not to break my limited budget while still decorating that gazebo so it's festive.

Suggestions, anyone?

Love Lessons

I'm learning. It's slow, it's gradual, but it's becoming more and more real and natural as each day goes on. I'll never be June Cleaver, but it's possible, just possible, that I might become a Good Mommy.

Not just a Good Mother, you see. I am that. When it comes to taking care of the necessities, making sure my children are well fed and dressed, clean and healthy, cared for in the ways that make them strong and beautiful and brilliant, I can do that. I've been doing that for years.

I'm talking about the Good Mommy aspect: not trying to just keep out of the dark, not hoping that I'm doing just enough to get by as a parent. I mean enjoying my children. I mean having far more patience with their annoying and aggravating aspects, even finding humor in the crazy moments. I mean noticing, even while getting frustrated with my DramaBoy because he's fooling around instead of getting dressed when I've asked him to do so umpteen times, that he just executed a perfect somersault. And then praising him and encouraging him to show it off a few more times, even though it means a couple minutes' delay. I mean deciding to just laugh to myself about the endless stream of poop jokes coming from the backseat rather than getting irritated and grossed out. I mean taking the time to sit with my son and watch the game he's playing on his Leapster, encouraging and praising him, rather than dismissing his request with a list of No, honey, I have to...s.

I mean perhaps, just possibly, being willing to take the risk of loving my children completely.

And that is a lesson worth learning.