Chirky

Roger and I were on a walk with Rayah this evening when we came upon a father kneeled down with his child. At first it appeared as though the child was hurt, and he was consoling her. As we came closer, we heard her crying and pleading with him - whatever it was, she made sure he knew she wasn't going to do it again. Then he started yelling at her. Screaming. SCREAMING.

My neck coiled and my eyebrows shot up. As we were (slowly) walking past, I turned around to look at them. He had his daughter -- she was maybe three years old -- pinned to the ground, in a sort of headlock, while he hovered over her and screamed at her about cars driving down the road. (This was on a walking path in our neighborhood park, bordered on one side by a residential street and on the other side by a creek.) The child's mother stood there, cross-armed, observing. The little girl's face was red and marked with tears. And this father - this father was so oblivious to anything around him, and screaming at her so forcefully, that it seemed abusive to me. He was frightening. The situation was so disturbing that *I* started crying. You guys! I started crying.

Now, full disclosure: I didn't understand the context of the discipline. Had she gotten too near the street (about six feet away) when a car was driving by? Had she been disobedient the first couple times her father asked her to move away from the street? I don't know. But I do know that this man was scary. And angry. He was belittling and intimidating his daughter. I have no patience for that. I wanted to rescue that little girl!

Roger and I quietly discussed whether we should do anything. We stopped and (covertly) watched, waiting to see if he would harm his daughter. We wondered at what point it would be appropriate to step in. In the end, we only watched them. I dried my eyes. The father eventually stopped, they marched past us on their way home, the little girl clinging to her mother's side, as far from her father as she could get. I turned to Roger and said, "I never want to treat our children like that." He had her pinned to the ground in a headlock. She was THREE.

And now I can't get that scene out of my mind - the dad hunkered down, trumpeting his temper; the mom passively standing by; the little girl, back arched, bawling, twisting her wet face from her father's.

I get that every parent has different discipline styles. I understand that I don't know the full story. But I also know that something isn't sitting right in my heart, and even though that family is long-gone, I'm curious: At what point do you step in? Or do you? How do you know when? And what should that look like?

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This morning I received an email from my sister-in-law, Rosalyn, professing her love for spring: "...the daffodils are bursting open, the forsythia (one of my very favoritest signs of spring) is turning into solid rays of sunshine as the blooms appear, and all of the flowering trees are vying to get in on the act! I'm so grateful for spring!"

I couldn't have said it better. The past few days it has been 70 degrees in Dallas, and I've been chomping at the bit to get outside. Rayah and I try to take walks every day. We love watching the ducks swim in the creek by our house, watching the little baby muskrats leap into the water when we come near. The daffodils are blooming in Dallas, also, and last week Rayah and I watched a toddler squeal with delight as he ran through them toward his Daddy. The birds are chirping, and blue jays are fluttering around our neighborhood. The Bradford Pear trees are thick with white blooms - I love watching Rayah's face as she stares up at tree branches - and I'm looking forward to seeing my favorite shade of green as trees begin to bud.

I've always thought that spring is my favorite season - I love the life that begins to emerge. I love that sunlight is beginning to stretch the day. I love the bright, bold colors. I love the warm days and deep blue skies. For me, it's the promise of something more to come, the promise of life and growth and beauty. And I guess that's not surprising, coming out of a dark and cold winter.

Out on a weekend walk with my two favorite people!

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If you (a) have kiddos or are pregnant and (b) are in the Dallas/Fort Worth area this month, I have a special treat for you today! Twice each year, HUGE consignment sales crop up in the metroplex. Forget church garage sales or Craigslist - these are more like warehouse events, with every toy, activity equipment, stroller system, brand of clothing (and sizes to match!) on the market -- and more! And the prices? Well, those are generally pretty awesome.

Whether you're shopping for fill-and-spill toys, boppy pillows, summer frocks, sweet purses, cargo shorts and graphic shirts, an extra stroller, books, more crib sheets, exersaucers, kid-sized activity tables (or nearly anything else), these consignment sales are THE place to go for gently used, inexpensive items.

And I've got all the info for you...

Continue reading "Frugal Fridays: On Consignment" »

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Yesterday Rayah turned six months old.

*faints*

Six months! And as a little birthday present, Rayah taught herself how to roll from her tummy to her back.

Today we also had an appointment with her pediatrician, and it seems Rayah had a bit of a growth spurt! In the past two months, she's grown TWO inches! Here's her stats:

Weight: 16 pounds, 5 ounces (55%)
Height: 26 1/4" (75%)
Head: 16 1/2" (30%)

My little baby is growing up!

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For the past several weeks, Rayah has been watching me very closely as I eat. I began sharing (pretend) "bites" with her on her own spoon of whatever I was eating: soup...cereal...ice cream (most likely). Then, over the weekend, we gave Rayah her first bite of solid food.

It was a winning success!

I am trying to make all of my own baby food, using the Cooking for Baby cookbook. The recipes are really simple and the book has tons of info on storing, freezing, reheating, cooking ahead, etc.

Continue reading "A World of Tastes" »

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I read a book tonight.

Well, that's not fair. I read one-half of a book tonight, and it was more than I needed to read. Halfway into the second chapter, I skipped ahead to the end. I read the last chapter. And satisfied by that, I skipped to the middle and read a few chapters.

Typically, I don't skip around in books. I read them straight-through, the way we're taught to do it, the order in which society expect us to to do it.

But this book...this book was different.

* * * * *

There are lots of things I don't really talk about on this blog, and sexual abuse is one of them. I have a lot of thoughts about sexual abuse, a lot of experience helping women grow through their own hurts. For the past several years I have led self-help support groups for women in the Dallas metroplex.

* * * * *

Last week, I received a press release about a controversial book, asking if I was interested in reviewing it. Typically, those press releases find their way into my trash can before I can get past the greeting -- but this one, for whatever reason -- I read. Then I responded. And today the book arrived in the mail.

* * * * *

In all fairness, I knew what this book was about before I started reading it. I knew that it was about sexual abuse. I also knew that the author was victimized as a young girl. And though this story is represented as fictional, I can tell you that it's not. This is a woman's story. It may not be the author's story, but that doesn't mean that it's any less real.

To Meg Tilly, the author: Gemma made me want to vomit. It is too graphic, the detail too accurate, the emotions too spot-on. That is a compliment to you as an author, to your ability to portray the way so many sexual abuse victims shut down, process emotions, trust false beliefs that are fed to them by their abusers.

Continue reading "Gemma" »

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The first time I ever saw a woman Price Matching was during a Back-to-School sale in 2008. I don’t remember why I had gone to Wal-Mart – I didn’t shop there often – and somehow I found myself in line behind a woman whose shopping cart was brimming with paper and pencils and rulers and backpacks and crayons. And more. Oooooohhhhh, was there more. She pulled out circulars from local stores and began going through them with the cashier. Suddenly, she turned to me.

Now, let’s stop for a second and discuss Wal-Mart. Admittedly, I used to be a little prejudiced. I really disliked shopping at the store. I don’t know why that is, because they carry just about everything under the sun, and if there’s one thing I like (especially as a working Mom), it’s convenience. If I could go through a drive-thru to purchase sunblock, I would. [Note to Wal-Mart: You know what would be awesome? Having the ability to order 20 items or less online, and then swing through a drive-thru to pick up my order. Please consider beta-testing that in Plano, Texas.] [Second note to Wal-Mart: The entrance to your store in Denton, Texas carries the overwhelming stench of vomit. Please send help.]

Anyway, so this woman just turned to me and said: “I’m sorry – this is going to take a while for me to check out. Price matching is something I do to help our family afford for me to be a stay at home mom.”

I just smiled and dismissed the issue, telling her I was fascinated by what she was doing. And really, I was. For the next five minutes, I stood there watching her flip through circulars and compare prices. I watched the cashier ring up the purchase. I watched as this Mom surrendered coupons. And I was stunned. I never knew that you could take an advertisement with lower prices from Tom Thumb or Sprouts or CVS or the dollar store and get that same price at Wal-Mart.

Continue reading "Frugal Fridays: Grocerying at Wal-Mart" »

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My obsession with quinoa all started last summer in Chicago. BlogHer '09 had just come to a close, and I went out to lunch with ElisaC, who is vegan.

We headed to The Chicago Diner. (Meat Free since '83, hey ya!) Looking over the menu, I was beginning to feel a little clueless. I quizzed Elisa on ingredients: What is acai? What is seitan? What is quinoa? What is seitan, again? And pronouncing those ingredients! It was embarrassingly obvious that I had no idea what I was talking about. I finally settled on the Southwestern Tostadas, spread thick with mashed black beans and topped with quinoa and avocado. WOW, were they good. They were so good -- I liked the quinoa so much -- that I decided right then I had to make it again when I got back to Dallas. (You might notice that very dish - the Southwestern Tostadas - is on my menu for this month!)

And that's how we get to today's recipe from Fat Free Vegan: International Quinoa Salad. I took Susan's recipe and developed it into the Lazy Woman's Recipe, because that is what I am: a lazy cook. I like foods that taste good without too much fuss, not that Susan's recipe really looks like much work, but mine is even less. I cut out the chickpeas, and because I usually don't have them on hand I cut out the jalapeno and scallions. I've had lactation consultants warn me that parsley and mint reduce milk production (sage stops it entirely, FYI, though that's not in this recipe), so since I'm nursing right now I've removed those from the recipe. And I've also added back in the olive oil. I tripled the avocado. And I use chicken broth instead of vegetable broth, because that is what I usually have on hand.

This salad is ultra-flavorful and tangy (and a new favorite). I think you'll like it, too. (I would like to include a photo of the salad here instead of just the ingredients, but I took these pictures with my phone, and can we all agree that the iPhone was not made for food photography? So if you want to see what this salad looks like (believe me: you do), check out the images on Fat Free Vegan. They're drool-worthy.)

Continue reading "International Quinoa Salad Recipe" »

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Last week, I read about the Pantry Cleanout Challenge and thought: Hey. I should do that.

And then I forgot.

But when a reader commented that she recently cleaned out her freezer and fed her family of four for the next month, plus spent only $100 at the grocery store on items like dairy and fresh produce, I knew I had to do it, too. And this time I didn’t forget.

So this weekend I emptied out my freezer, took an inventory of every item, and re-organized it all. It was a little embarrassing to discover I had more than 15 pounds of pork, turkey, chicken and beef – that is: the meat in our freezer weighs as much as our daughter – plus bag upon bag of frozen veggies, fruits, cheeses and puff pastry dough, as well as three pounds of butter. Seriously, who am I? Paula Deen?

Continue reading "Freezer Cleanout Challenge" »

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For the past week, I've been staying up late reading a ridiculous number of frugal blogs. This is quite a feat for me because I'm typically falling over with exhaustion by 9pm. I don't really ever talk about money on this blog, but it's something that is persistently on my mind, especially since Rayah came into our family. First the medical bills piled up (which are now paid off, thankfully). Next there was that home renovation we began nearly two years ago. That home renovation that took over our lives.

It's kind of like - and bear with me, because I haven't eaten anything yet - when you go to a Chinese buffet, and that Pineapple Fried Rice tastes awesome, but you think you might also sample the Sesame Chicken. And the Spring Rolls. And the Mongolian Beef. And maybe some Dan Dan Noodles. And whoa - those Garlic Snap Peas - I bet those are good. And then you just can't resist the Mango soft-serve ice cream. With sprinkles. And maybe a cherry. That's what renovating your house is like. Or, that's what renovating our house has been like. Like an over-indulgent Chinese buffet.

Nothing we've done has felt indulgent, of course. But in retrospect, maybe we should have tackled it differently. We scraped the ceilings. We re-textured the walls. We painted. We ripped out the floors. We tore off the baseboards and the trim. We removed a wall here, we built a laundry room there. We installed tile in the kitchen. We're scheduled to install hardwood floors this month. And even though we've tried to do as much as possible ourselves (read: I never knew what a handyman Roger was until we bought this house - he's worked so hard on it!), we've paid an unreal amount to contractors to do the hard parts. And now I'm left looking at our checkbook, thinking: How did we get here? How can we get back to where we were? What changes can I make to our budget?

Continue reading "Pinching Pennies" »

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