Pepita

The Snack Shelf

When it comes to parenting hacks, I find that about 1 in 10 works with my kid. The snack shelf is one of our rare success stories.

Here it is in all its nutrient-rich glory: You’re looking at pretty, easy-to-open containers of carrot sticks, broccoli florets, orange slices, and washed raspberries. (I used to keep a small dish of ranch dressing in there, too, but I discovered that Frances will actually eat vegetables without—this was not always so—when we ran out. I think we’re just going to continue to be out of ranch dressing indefinitely.) There’s a jug of milk, and Greek yogurt hiding in the back. The precise contents of the snack shelf vary, but this snapshot is representative.

This is Frances’s shelf. She can eat anything she wants from it at any time and in any quantity. As long as I keep this shelf stocked and refrain from crowding it with random leftovers or gross grown-up food, snacktime remains a time of peace in our house. And I have discovered that, left to her own devices, Frances will choose vegetables. The fact that it’s her choice seems to make all the difference.

This shelf also helps make lunch prep easy in the morning—I’ve got fruit and veg ready to go—and it solves a dinner dilemma that vexed me for some time. Frances used to be a pretty adventurous eater, and I generally served her whatever I prepared for Ted and myself, or a slightly modified version of the same. But, lately, Frances wants one thing for dinner: buttered noodles. This drove me kind of nuts, and there were nights when I simply said, “No more buttered noodles!” Unpleasantness ensued. But then I realized that, if Frances has been grazing from the fridge between her return from school and dinner time, she’s already had an a la carte version of a pretty good meal: protein, calcium, a mix of vitamins and minerals, not to mention fiber, probiotics, antioxidants, and other goodies. Also, she’s not ravenous when she comes to the table, which means that I can satisfy her longing for noodles with a small portion.  And—and!—now that the buttered-noodle battles have ended, Frances has started to take an interest in the other foods available at dinner time. (This dynamic might be familiar to anyone who’s read a certain book about a certain badger.) Just last night, she told me that she doesn’t like pancakes for dinner, but, after I made a few for myself and warmed up the maple syrup, Frances was at the stove on her stepstool, making blueberry smiley faces on her own pancakes. 

 

Chocolate Skulls

Frances’s birthday is in July, but her school likes to make sure that everybody has a special day during the school term. Frances’s honorary birthday fell on November 4, and since her class has been studying Día de Muertos, she wanted to make sugar skulls instead of cupcakes this year.  As it happens, I already had some sugar skull molds, but, since sugar skills are actually not that pleasant to eat, I suggested chocolate skulls instead. Frances approved.

We used Wilton Candy Melts and adornedthe skulls with Candy Decorating “Pens”. I use scare quotes here because the name of this product is misleading: They’re basically tubes filled with Candy Melt, and keeping the candy warm and flowing is kind of tricky. I found that getting an effect I liked was a lot easier if I painted inside the candy molds before pouring in the chocolate. If we make these again—and I’m guessing that we will—I will probably use some kind of decorator frosting on the de-molded candies instead of the so-called candy pens.

All that aside, this was a fun project. Frances was happy with the results, and the candy skulls were a big hit with her teachers and classmates.

 

Birthday Party Menu

Cheddar Bunnies

Pita Chips

Crudités

Red Pepper Dip

Green Goddess Dip

Watermelon Pops

Raspberry Lemonade

Melon-Mint Sangria

Beer

Rainbow Cake*

Chocolate Ice Cream

 

* I used this recipe for white cake  (minus the lemon curd) and food coloring paste instead of Jell-O, but I used the instructions for putting together the cake found here.

Wine Pairings for Parents

I find that one of my toughest challenges, as a parent, has been determining what kind of wine to serve with, say, Campbell’s tomato soup and popcorn. Then I got a copy of Good, Better, Best Wines, and decided that Carolyn Evans Hammond might just be the sommelier to ask. She is, clearly, a true oenophile, but she’s an oenophile who’s able to appreciate the sweet berry flavors and “nervy acidity” of Franzia’s chillable red blend.

So, I asked Carolyn to take a look at my menu for the week ahead and suggest some appropriate wine pairings. You’ll find the menu—including the aforementioned supper of tomato soup and popcorn—with expert wine recommendations over at my other blog. And, if you love wine but find that you make most of your vino purchases at the same venue at which you buy Pull-Ups and Popsicles, you’ll definitely want to get yourself a copy of Good, Better, Best Wines.

I Guess It’s Better than rBGH

I have been pretty lucky with the breastfeeding. Frances didn’t have to be taught how to nurse, and my production has always been about equal to her needs: I’ve seldom had troubles with engorgement, and, heaven knows, she’s not starving. But I recently had a bout of mastitis, and there’s this mystery pain that will not go away. One of my lactation consultant’s theories is that my breastmilk has a high fat content, which might be causing some blockage. On her advice, I’m taking 1,200 milligrams of lecithin to my diet.

Lecithin is an emulsifier. You’ve probably encountered it if you’re the type who reads food labels and the type who, say, eats cheap chocolate. Thus, I have added a food additive to my diet because I am a producer of food.

I have been committed to the project of breastfeeding my daughter since before she was born. I would not dare to judge women who don’t breastfeed, but I am, nevertheless, proud of the fact that my baby has never tasted formula. I am glad that I have been able to provide my child with a wondrously nutritious food, and I appreciate the special sense of closeness with my child that nursing gives me.

Yes, breastfeeding is a miracle. It’s also a colossal pain in the ass, and, frankly, kind of gross. It’s weird and slightly icky to be a source of food. Breastfeeding is a unique way to forge emotional and physical bonds with another person and, in that sense, it is a beautifully human act. It is also, simultaneously, more than a little dehumanizing. Wood over at Sweet Juniper has written extensively on the special thrill of pumping (and she and I have both had it pretty sweet, relatively speaking) , so I will say only this: If you’ve ever mused, “Hey, I wonder what it feels like to be a dairy cow on a factory farm?” you should treat yourself to some quality time with one of Medela’s fine machines. (I feel compelled to note that Ted does what he can to support me when I have to pump. He might, for example, gaze upon me with dewy eyes and say, “I know how you feel about pumping, and I appreciate that you’re willing to do this for our daughter. Seeing you like this… well, it’s really quite moooooooving.” He’s a wonderful, wonderful husband.)

So, now I’m ingesting surfactants to make my milk a little smoother (or, as Ted might say “Smoooooother”). I can’t help but wonder what’s next. Perhaps megadoses of pink Quik to give my milk a delightful strawberry flavor.

Good Eater