Tales of Me and the Husband

reading to babies.

i was reading a story to parker the other day.  i think it was an elmo book with a sort of zoo theme.  by that, i mean there was a monkey, a zebra, a hippo, a lion.  when i’m reading things like this to parker, i’m trying to, you know, interject some teaching moments here and there.  “the monkey!  it goes, ooh ooh aah ahh!”  the lion goes, “rooooar!”  the zebra goes… “i have stripes?”  the giraffe… well, he’s got a long neck.  see parker?  here’s his neck.  no sounds, just a neck.  
you know, it’s darn confusing that not all animals have an accompanying sound.  here, little parker is thinking, “why you holding out on me, ma?  what sound does the zebra make!”  but some, oh a lucky some, have more than one!  a dog can pant or a dog can bark!  thanks be to the dogs!  we’ve got options!  take your pick, parker! 
are you like me?  with the whole teaching moments reading thing… take a book with shapes for instance.  so, we’ve got a red circle, a blue triangle, an orange oval, and a green square.  should i be teaching parker green or square?  blue or triangle??  ORANGE OR OVAL???  surely i shouldn’t be, “now parker!  learn both the color AND the shape this very instant!  we shan’t stop reading until you do!”  is there a right way?  and… perhaps the best question of all… is WHO CARES AND WHY HAS THIS EVEN CROSSED MY MIND?
now, narrating.  bear with me, this post is all over the place with the overarching theme of reading to babies.  back to narrating.  steve is hands down the greatest narrator in the history of narrators.  i’m really sorry that he’s not your baby-daddy and no you can’t have him.  the man is all that and more when it comes to narrations.  there’s a specific voice for each character!  take berlioz the bear for instance.  the tabby who speaks up smugly, the prancing billy goat, the tired plough horse!  the voices are so spot on and, gosh, if these animals really had a voice i swear it’d come out the way steve’s doing them.  have you ever read berlioz?  it’s so good.  so, anyway, everyone prefers dad’s reading over mom’s and i don’t blame them.  even parker.  he brings books to steve, plops them on his laps, and then communicates in a way that only parker can, “read this to me!”  and side note: i know i’ve mentioned it before, but bill peet is a reeeeal favorite in the hunt house too.  his books are amazing.  add some to your shelves if you don’t have some already!
what are your favorite books for babies & kids?  how about ones with lots of narrating opportunities?  and what sound does a zebra make (especially for you, kate)?  and, seriously, orange or oval??

boston with my boy.

last weekend, steve, parker, & i headed into the city for a little day date.  the big kids were off with their grandparents who are visiting and it was a beautiful day (in fact, i eventually had to strip down some layers!) so we made use of it and walked around the back bay, had some pizza, and took some pictures.  parker is itching to walk everywhere these days.  give the boy some open space!  he’ll make use of it!  so we were sure to take him out of his stroller and get those legs movin’.  
it was really nice.

Stocking your natural first aid kit, volume 3.

volume 3.
oil of oregano!
ok, oil of oregano pretty much blew my mind so prepared to get your mind blown.  also, it’s like half price here at this link and source naturals is a good brand soooo basically get it.
oil of oregano was another tip from my crunchy friend rita.  he got croup.  parker!  he got croup!  and i was all, “OMGWHATTODO.”  well folks, it was like seriously not that bad.  i’m a spaz!  and i’m saying it was not bad!  and maybe it was a mild case or maybe oil of oregano is a friggin’ miracle oil.  yes, the latter.  it is an antibiotic, antiseptic, and antiviral.  all three.
so this oil, as with like all of them, is like an iceberg.  i’ll tell you the basics but holy heck!  there is so much under the surface when it comes to their multitude of uses.  so here’s the deets on this one.
at its very baaaasic boiled down use it’s for: bronchitis, viral infections, rheumatism, respiratory problems, muscular pain, and digestive problems.  nature’s antibiotic, if you will!  (literally… this article is a good one!  check it!)
with parker and his croup (or any cold, cough, anything), i put it on the soles of his feet and between his toes.  he smelled like a delicious italian restaurant (oregano!  pizza!) and then i made him laugh by bopping his feet around and singing, “pizza feet!”  then, on go the socks, and they sleep while all the essential oil goodness gets in their bodies by way of the feet.  at a certain age, you can actually ingest some oils (not all!) but he was too young at the time.  
and while you’re at it, if you feel like essential oils are gonna be your thing, this book is amazing.  it’s got remedies for everything from dandruff to colic to colds to depression to arthritis to allergies.  it has the exact recipe, how much is appropriate for what age, etc.  and i’m telling you, it’ll blow your mind.  i really think there’s something to the power of essential oils.  the real ones are expensive, but a small bottle will last forrreeverrrr.
and, and, and… as with all of the bits and pieces i’ll share along the way with this series, you’ll find articles that say something like, “blasphemy!  oregano oil does nothing!  no science!  stupid!”  or something like that…
but, for me and mine, parker’s croup was like two days long and seeeriously not a big deal.
thanks oregano oil!  you da bomb!
*eta: i’ve done more research on oil of oregano and while i still use it and would recommend it for all for all of the above, it shouldn’t be used long-term as it can interfere with iron absorption and can impact blood flow.  i’ve never used it for more than about a week’s time (twice a day or so) before, and all’s been well.
if you missed the first two…
volume 1.  and volume 1 has my whole “i am not a doctor” routine and that’s always a good idea to refresh ourselves on in case ya’ll are like, “we’re gonna burn her house down!  who does she think she is!  pass me the advil!”
volume 2. this one’s got a great garlic/oil paste.  also for the feet!

parker-approved veggie pancake.

well, despite my best intentions, sometimes parker’s all, “i don’t want this!” when he’s had that very thing two days earlier and scarfed it like it was no one’s biznaz.  that makes my head explode all, “what the $#%#*!!!!”  
so i came home the other day and got all mary poppins in the kitchen.  i’m going to try some new things!  see how he likes it!  and if all else fails, i’ll entertain him with renditions of “just a spoonful of sugar.”  
well, this went over swimmingly*.  veggie pancakes, ya’ll!  he ate two of ’em!  and i tell you what, they’re delicious.  i liked them too.  like legit liked them as opposed to liked them as far as kid food goes.
*the next day he wanted nothing to do with them so… i don’t even know.
i didn’t follow the recipe.  at all.  but, i’ll show it to you and then still tell you what i did.
adapted loosely from the recipe out of this book
out of the garden pancakes
1-1 1/2 cups broccoli
1/2 onion, sauteed
1-3 cloves garlic, sauteed
1/4 cup coconut oil
1/2 cup (or more depending on consistency) flour
1 egg
sprinkle of flaxseed meal
salt
so, there’s a million ways to do this pancake.  this is just what i did.  i steamed the broccoli, sauteed the onion and garlic together.  then food processed those three things.  put them in a bowl, sprinkled some sea salt on it, add flour and flaxseed meal, coconut oil, one egg, and mix.  then, i put some coconut oil in a pan so it wouldn’t stick, and put a few spoonfuls of the batter on.  it cooked quickly, then i sprinkled some grated cheese on top and gave him the whole thing.  he ate two and ate ’em fast.  i daresay we’ve got a winner!
variations that i’m going to try in the mix: steamed and pureed spinach (or really any vegetable… corn, carrots, peas, kale, sweet potato…), wheat germ, nutritional yeast sprinkled on top, bran, oats, couscous, lentils, various types of beans, more garlic… forget the world, this pancake is my oyster!
make a bunch, freeze ’em, warm them up on the stove.
serve ’em up with some grated cheese (locatelli is our pick!).  
i hope your kids like them as much as parker did (on the first day).

The sweet (but weird?) little things.

The other day Steve woke up at 4 am.  His sleep has been off because of jet lag (he was in South Africa, ya’ll! Pictures above!  I thought that, since the blog name implies that it’s tales of me AND Steve, I should document that he took this trip.  Without me though, which is stupid.  And why this blog will go back to being mostly me, a little him.).  He’s slowly making his way back to the land of the living and on East Coast time.  That is, the East Coast of the United States anyway.

Back to where I was.  I don’t think he actually woke me but nevertheless I awoke to his face over mine as he stood on my side of the bed.  I’m calling it a you-woke-me-up, because basically, it’s close enough.  I think I sensed he was awake?  And that, there he was, a human, breathing over my slumbering face?  I looked at him, in the dark, all, “What the hell’s going on?”  He said, “Did I thank you last night for dinner?  I can’t remember if I thanked you and I’ve been thinking about it since I woke up.”  I replied some sort of semi-audible, “I don’t remember.  You’re welcome.  Let’s talk about it later.”  I think he got back in bed realizing that 4 am was really far from 6 am when the rest of us would be waking up and that he’d be bored by himself downstairs for that long.  Or maybe he went downstairs and then came back up?  I don’t know.  Because, the second time I woke (again, before I was ready; you’re dead to me, Steve.), he was back in bed and his hand was on my shoulder which wasn’t under the sheet and he said something like, “Your shoulder is cold.  Are your shoulders cold?”  He was keeping his hand on them so they’d, you know, be warm.  He wasn’t even trying to get any!  He was really just trying to keep my shoulders warm!  Shucks!

My half-asleep state didn’t fully appreciate either of these sweet but weird gestures.  And then, like all of that middle of the night dream world stuff does, it became clearer as the day went on.  Did he thank me at 4 am for dinner last night?  I remember that now.  Did he ask me if my shoulders were cold???  Strange, but yes.  Double checking with Steve for confirmation.  Done.

As I thought about them later, these small things were really kind of cute.  I’d made the chicken cones for him for his birthday.  And a double layer chocolate cake (though, if you saw my instagram you’d know not to be too impressed.  From a box.  Both the cake and the icing.  And then I tried to do powdered sugar on the top minus some star shapes but it totally didn’t work and so I just ended up powdering the whole thing which was not my intention.  Whatever.).  And the chicken cones, damn!, are a lot of work.  You probably want to try them still because, also! damn!, they are really good.  But I burned myself, made a big mess, and had them on the table by like 8 pm which is when William and Lindsey are usually getting themselves ready for bed.  It was a minor fiasco.  Once on the table, I was all… happy birthday Steve enjoy the chicken cones because I’m never making them again.  Probably the reason why he was wondering DID I THANK HER at 4 am.  Trying to ensure that there are more chicken cones in his future?  Still no.

Now to wrap this little story up I just want to reiterate that it’s totally the little things that make husbands loveable.  The warming of cold shoulders and ponderings in the dark about whether one was thanked for dinner or not.  Like post-its on the mirror and a favorite magazine for a car ride.  Little things.

And, because I’m me and am always afraid of being called a humblebragger, I need to have every sweet story about my marriage coupled with an equally unsweet one.  I can’t have you walking away thinking we’re perfect now.

For the unsweet: a few days before he left for South Africa, we got in a little fight about something that I can barely remember at this point, but as I walked upstairs in a huffy state all, “Goodnight jackass!” about it, he was all, “When do I leave again?!”  And we pretty much went to bed that way.  So, yeah.

parker was born to love paul simon. he really didn’t have a choice in the matter.

some funny things to watch for:
// my mom dancing like she’s a hunchback?  right away, you’ll see it.  why?
// lindsey going by like she’s rudolph or something?  the hands.  i don’t know.
// william rushing by like he can’t wait to get outta the frame.  (so william.)
// and then all of lindsey’s moves.  you can’t miss them.
// pretty sure parker’s bothered that the attention is on lindsey.
// parker’s dancing.  it’s just cute.
// lindsey says, “i think he gets his dancing from me.”
and there you have it.  
just another dinner hour at the hunts.
(and this is only some of it.)

Babies & sleep. The least funny joke.

Sleep and babies!  Like oil and water!  Yes!  That is what this post is about.  Sleep and babies is such a mystery to me.  Wait.  Stop.  It’s a mystery to us all, is it not?  Tell me you’re the person who’s got it figured out and I will call you a liar.  Or a bitch.  No, both.

My Mom told me I was the only one of her daughters (There are four of us, but you probably know that by now.) who just started sleeping through the night.  What?  Slap her.  I just started sleeping through the night?  Is that even a thing?  No sleep training, no crying it out, I just slept through the night.  Around four months old.  I’d give my four-month old self a fist-pump on the daily if I could.

There should be some sort of rule that you get what you gave.  You slept through the night at four months old, no questions asked, no whining and crying and gnashing of teeth.  Then your baby will do the same.  You were a total pissant of a teenager.  Then so will your teenagers be.  You were awesome?  Your kids will be awesome.  But there is no justice in this terrible world and the sweetest of people can still end up with the most horrible of teenagers.  It’s a big cosmic joke.  The least funny joke.  The universe is poking us in the ribs all the time suggesting we laugh with it.  Out of my face, universe.

Back to sleep and babies.  I’ve suggested here and on Twitter that Parker nurse a little less at night.  Just a hint, really.  He laughs at me.  With a wave of his chubby little wrist, he tells me, “Mom, don’t worry about scrambling up those eggs for my dinner.  It’s almost bed-time.  The hours are upon us where I have open bar on your boobs.  There, there.  Don’t trouble yourself.  Put down the spatula.”  He’s so polite.

I know there are a lot of theories on sleep and babies.  Books upon books.  My child will never learn how to sleep well on his own.  My cosleeping child will be more well-adjusted than your child who didn’t cosleep.  Your sleeping-through-the-night child will be smarter than mine.  My child will be in my room until he’s ten and nursing until he’s fifteen.  Your child will be a brain surgeon and mine will be a gas station attendant.  My child will never be independent.  Your child will never be independent.  Your child will not form the Oedipus complex that mine inevitably will and thus not try to kill your husband in his sleep.

I made most of them up.

But here’s what I’ll say: to each his own.  I mean really.  To each his own!

And for now, we’re just doing our thing.  (And occasionally being a little jealous of you fine folks whose babies slumber peacefully without waking for a drive-thru stop… or two, or three… at the ‘ol milk bar.)

This post really declared nothing beyond the fact that babies and sleep are a mystery to me.  We’re right back where we started.

Sakura Bloom Sling Diaries: Delight

I’m incredibly excited to be a part of the next volume of the Sakura Bloom Sling Diaries (thank you, Sakura Bloom!!)  Over the next six months, I will be (along with 14 other amazing women) posting an entry dedicated to babywearing once a month following a certain theme.  
Babywearing has been one of my greatest joys since having Parker.  As someone who seriously couldn’t get enough of pregnancy, I was rather reticent, emotional, downright weepy to give birth and then let that relationship between Mom and babe go.  So… I wore him.  I wore him, and wore him, and wore him some more.  “What, you want to hold my baby?  Sorry, I’m wearing him!”  I wore him as I walked, as I shopped, as he slept, as he cried.  His ear against my chest, he was never far from my heartbeat.  
Now that he’s a walkin’ man who never stops, I don’t get the chance to wear him as much.  When I put him in the sling, he started hugging me and touching my face.  He quickly remembered, “Ah, yes.  We’ve been here before.”  I know we both like it a lot.
Up high by me, we delight in a post-rain walk in the woods.  A wet pumpkin, some damp leaves and dewey, fallen pine.  We discover fall together.
I wear Parker in the Sakura Bloom simple silk sling in midnight.
What we wear: my shirt // Parker’s shoes
Follow along on the official diaries Pinterest page here.

a day in boston with mom.

so often when my  mom’s here, it’s for a specific occasion.  thanksgiving, christmas, a birthday.  time to kill is scarce whether we’re shopping for a meal, cooking said meal, meeting up with people… we don’t get a chance to venture around the city much.  we made use of the fact that this trip was just a ‘fun trip’ if you will so we spent some time in boston.  not long enough, but time nevertheless.  
i know it’s nothing new, but i just love boston.  do you love boston?  you should.  and if you’ve never been, you just need to come.
what i’m wearing: blazer (sure to become a staple around here) // cowl  

Mom’s in town.

Today’s cold felt especially cold.  Probably colder than the temperatures actually read.  It was wet.  A bit rainy.  The wet-cold always manages to find its way through your outer layers.  And often through the inner layers too.  Somehow your shoulders and your knees always end up chilled (do you get chilled knees?  I do.) and you regret not wearing the scarf that you debated bringing just before you left.  And then, it seems the cold can’t be shaken until a hot shower is taken.  Like the hot shower is some sort of magic reset button.  Otherwise, it remains.

I’m going to take a hot shower just after I’m done here.
Steve has been away.  He comes home soon and for that, I am glad, because I miss him.  But my Mom has been in town.  Like some sort of modern day Florence Nightingale (loose parallel here), she’s come to help me keep house and home in my husband’s stead.  Having her in my home is such a treat.  She’s one of my favorite people and, I’m not just bragging when I say this, I’m one of hers.  I realize that this is not entirely usual for a mother and daughter and that I should be really grateful for this sort of reciprocal relationship.  And I am.  I like to treat her when she’s here.  It seems that a mother who raised me well should be treated when she visits my home.  No question, she’s done a lot for me.  It’s the least we can do for our parents, right?  I like doing it.  
I made the tortilla soup one night.  And sweet potato burritos tonight.  And oatmeal pancakes this morning.  But, it’s easy because while I’m measuring and mixing and stirring and flipping, she’s reading books to Parker or playing on the ground with him and poking her head in to talk to me every few minutes.  When I go up to put him to sleep, the kitchen is always tidier than when I left.  There’s no fuss about it, she just does it.  She’s treating me too.  I think she must remember those days of mothering keenly.  Not everyone does.  But as she empties the dishwasher for you or folds the laundry, no questions asked, I can only assume she remembers them well.  We enjoy a glass of red wine or some pumpkin beer in the evening.  And then, before bed, a mug of chamomile tea.
I’m blessed to have her.  
Thanks for coming, Mom.
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