The house is the most quiet it's been all day. First and Secondborn are fast asleep and I am looking forward to settling down with a good book, good music, and a good glass of wine followed by a good night's rest. The makings of a perfect Saturday evening.
My life is a far cry from the wild weekends of my past and, for that I'm grateful. I survey the damage of what is the end of the day here in our household: books flung about from our half hour of pre-bed time reading, Goldfish crackers ground into the rug, sippy cups strewn about leaking their contents on my freshly mopped floors, and two baskets of laundry in dire need of putting away. I'm surprised at how clean everything looks.
What? And you thought me to be discouraged by the state of my surroundings? Nope. Not tonight. There was a time I was, though. It was a huge transition period for me to come to grips with raising children, keeping house, and being happy. It turns out that all my former ideals on housekeeping have been thrown out the window. Now, my goal is to stay clean enough that the Health Department doesn't shut me down.
I'm not a bad housekeeper. I like things well organized and neat. Turns out, children don't. It took a great deal of effort and time for me to understand that, but I finally did.
What I've finally come to grips with is I want my children to know without a shadow of a doubt that I am there for them. If they need me to drop to the floor and spontaneously read Llama Llama, Mad At Mama four times back to back, then I better get comfortable real quick while they both jockey for positions in my lap. If Secondborn wants me to hold her hands while she practices walking throughout the house for backbreaking sessions, then I best take a handful of Ibuprofen prior to our endeavors. And, I pray the day never comes that I refuse Firstborn his giddy "rocket ship" rides positioned on the bottoms of my feet while laying on my back, legs stilted against the skies flying him to faraway places.
Today was not an easy day. It wasn't a bad day either, though. I shudder when people talk about "bad days". It makes me wonder if they really know what a "bad day" is. I don't, and hope to never know. However, I do know long days, hard days, frustrating days, etc, etc. And while today was no easy day, this and all surrounding days are the best days of my life. As the saying goes, "The days are oh, so long, but the years oh, so very short". Indeed.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Canning Crazed
Hi. My name is Mommy, and I have a canning addiction. At least that's what my husband tells me. He says I need to get some help. He suggested therapy and possibly some step programs. But he doesn't mean it. Not really anyway.
In truth, I know he's secretly pleased with his wife's mad home ec skills. He's appreciative of how little money I've invested in this endeavor, yet how much it will save us in the long run. He openly brags on how good everything has tasted. He's particularly fond of the salsa. So much so, that I've had to make numerous follow up batches to replenish our diminishing supply. Fortunately, I found a vendor in my hometown willing to sell tomatoes for $.50 a pound.
I grew up in a family that canned, dried, froze, pickled, and preserved food. To this day any time I smell fresh dill I am immediately brought back to my parents' divorce because my granny was canning dill pickles at that time.
To "put up", as they called it, was a necessity from days past, but they continued on because it's what you did. It saved countless pennies and tasted far better than anything you could find on the grocer's shelves. These are the same reasons I enjoy doing these same rituals. I like knowing what's in my family's food. I like knowing where my food comes from.
Some have told me I'm crazy for doing this. I probably am, but not for that reason. Many have been extremely supportive. I think they're just paving the way to a few handouts. And that's okay. Partly why I've canned so much this year is to give away as Christmas gifts. Then there have been a small number that have made comments predicting that we'll never eat all that we've made based upon their own canning experiences. To that I say, "Don't rain on my parade."
And, then there's my grandmother who's proud. She's so proud that her ways have made such a huge impact upon my life and the way I'm raising our family. It makes me happy to see her so pleased with my efforts. It made me down right giddy to see how she thoroughly enjoyed the jar of Apple Pie In A Jar. She had half the jar finished by the time I left her house.
As is the case in any addiction, I'm not alone. I've a friend who loves canning just as much as I do. She too grew up in the canning culture. So, for the past month she's loaded up her two year old daughter, supplies, produce from her garden and her CSA box, and headed to my house for all day canning sessions. Fortunately, her daughter is Firstborn's girlfriend. While we're ladling hot spoonfuls of homemade goodness into Ball jars they're having the time of their short lived lives. It usually ends up with both of them pants-less. But, that's another story for another day.
We've been quite successful in our endeavors. Between the both of our gardens, her CSA box, my father's neighbor and their apple trees, we've not had to purchase much produce. We've pickled peppers and squash. We've made marmalades, preserves, pie fillings, two different types of pepper jelly, fruit jellies, salsa, and even more salsa. We've frozen peaches, squash, and zucchini. We've dried peppers. We've even made a spicy peach barbecue sauce and a spicy/sweet Thai dipping sauce. We were just showing out at that point.
We've no plans of slowing down either. We've plans to visit the local farmer's market this weekend to see what we can come up with. We're gearing up for phase two of our canning craze and that involves our pressure cookers. Soups, broths, and anything else we can come up with are all fair game. Our preserving cookbooks haven't steered us wrong yet.
Hubby can continue to claim that I have an illness, an addiction if you will. I don't mind just as long as he doesn't get in my way in the kitchen. Besides, I can stop any time I want.
In truth, I know he's secretly pleased with his wife's mad home ec skills. He's appreciative of how little money I've invested in this endeavor, yet how much it will save us in the long run. He openly brags on how good everything has tasted. He's particularly fond of the salsa. So much so, that I've had to make numerous follow up batches to replenish our diminishing supply. Fortunately, I found a vendor in my hometown willing to sell tomatoes for $.50 a pound.
I grew up in a family that canned, dried, froze, pickled, and preserved food. To this day any time I smell fresh dill I am immediately brought back to my parents' divorce because my granny was canning dill pickles at that time.
To "put up", as they called it, was a necessity from days past, but they continued on because it's what you did. It saved countless pennies and tasted far better than anything you could find on the grocer's shelves. These are the same reasons I enjoy doing these same rituals. I like knowing what's in my family's food. I like knowing where my food comes from.
Some have told me I'm crazy for doing this. I probably am, but not for that reason. Many have been extremely supportive. I think they're just paving the way to a few handouts. And that's okay. Partly why I've canned so much this year is to give away as Christmas gifts. Then there have been a small number that have made comments predicting that we'll never eat all that we've made based upon their own canning experiences. To that I say, "Don't rain on my parade."
And, then there's my grandmother who's proud. She's so proud that her ways have made such a huge impact upon my life and the way I'm raising our family. It makes me happy to see her so pleased with my efforts. It made me down right giddy to see how she thoroughly enjoyed the jar of Apple Pie In A Jar. She had half the jar finished by the time I left her house.
As is the case in any addiction, I'm not alone. I've a friend who loves canning just as much as I do. She too grew up in the canning culture. So, for the past month she's loaded up her two year old daughter, supplies, produce from her garden and her CSA box, and headed to my house for all day canning sessions. Fortunately, her daughter is Firstborn's girlfriend. While we're ladling hot spoonfuls of homemade goodness into Ball jars they're having the time of their short lived lives. It usually ends up with both of them pants-less. But, that's another story for another day.
We've been quite successful in our endeavors. Between the both of our gardens, her CSA box, my father's neighbor and their apple trees, we've not had to purchase much produce. We've pickled peppers and squash. We've made marmalades, preserves, pie fillings, two different types of pepper jelly, fruit jellies, salsa, and even more salsa. We've frozen peaches, squash, and zucchini. We've dried peppers. We've even made a spicy peach barbecue sauce and a spicy/sweet Thai dipping sauce. We were just showing out at that point.
We've no plans of slowing down either. We've plans to visit the local farmer's market this weekend to see what we can come up with. We're gearing up for phase two of our canning craze and that involves our pressure cookers. Soups, broths, and anything else we can come up with are all fair game. Our preserving cookbooks haven't steered us wrong yet.
Hubby can continue to claim that I have an illness, an addiction if you will. I don't mind just as long as he doesn't get in my way in the kitchen. Besides, I can stop any time I want.
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