Ta Daa: Play Kitchen

I don't have much time to write about this, since I'm totally spent and dying to get to sleep. But I couldn't resist posting a photo of the finished product: Thora's new play kitchen made out of recycyled cardboard. I'm very pleased with the end result. Firstly, I completed it before Christmas day, which I was beginning to think was an impossiblity. Secondly, I think it looks really nice and seems relatively sturdy. I say "relatively" only because toddlers are known for some unpredictable and wobbly movements. And also, I say "relatively" since my measurement and cutting was done with a less than machine-like accuracy. Part of me is stunned that it even fit together! But I do think it's going to be a great addition to Thora's play toys. So pleased!

Here's a closer view of the oven door.

The one thing that this is missing is a fabric curtain below the sink. That will come soon. And I think I might like to create a window in the oven door.

I'll write more about my experience in building this later. Now, must... go... to... bed.

Building a Cardboard Play Kitchen

So I'm moving right along, building Thora a play kitchen made of recycled cardboard. As I mentioned before, I found this project here, on Etsy.com. I spent what seemed like an eternity scouring my neighborhood for pieces of cardboard big enough for this project. (The main upright pieces, actually not pictured anywhere here, are almost 40" in height.) Then the other day, recylcing day in our neighborhood, I was lucky enough to spot an intact box that had recently held a storage shelving system. If only friends of mine could've seen me, a crazy woman, running down the streets of Cambridge with a huge cardboard box over my shoulder.
Our living room is currently overrun with bundles of cardboard that I've gathered from the neighboring grocery stores, most of which are too flimsy or small. But once I scored the gem of the storage box, I began actually following the instructions. And that was measuring and measuring, cutting and cutting. I would suggest you really invest in a metal ruler!

Anyway, I've finally got all the pieces cut out and reinforced. Now I'm ready to start cutting out the notches that create the joists. Don't want to get bogged down with blogging about it. Better just get back to it. I mean, this thing isn't going to build itself by Christmas. And Georgia and Kitty are shitty elves!

Holiday Shopping

I am so compelled to hype all the great gifts I've been finding for friends and family this year, many of which are green. Except that my readers consist almost entirely of friends and family. I don't want to spill the beans and so will post about some of the big hits after the gifts have been opened. But I can say this: I've fallen hard for Etsy.com, a site that hosts artists, crafters, designers, etc., and their products. As someone with a creative impulse, I feel a connection to these artists, posting their art, jewelry, clothing, and I'm happy to support them.

And it was on Etsy that I stumbled upon this gem, the instructions for building your own child's play kitchen out of cardboard. Check out the link here. The materials are recycled cardboard (I'm going to the Trader Joe's on Monday to collect some of their broken-down boxes), hot glue, wire hangers from the dry cleaners, and some other odds and ends for detailing, making this is a very post-consumer waste, eco-friendly piece of play equipment. I hope to get the odds and ends this weekend, the cardboard on Monday, and to start building next week. This is one of Thora's Christmas gifts. And for as much as she's wanted to be apart of the kitchen activities, I'm hoping that this will encourage her kitchen play. I'll definitely post my progress and final product. So stay tuned.

How to Make an ENORMOUS Batch of Soup

So, as planned, but later than hoped, I made a batch of the Sweet Potato and Butternut Squash Soup from the recipe that my in-laws emailed me, coincidentally on the same day that I came back from the last Farmer's Market, totally drowning in sweet potatoes and butternut squash. The verdict on the soup? ...Awesome.

So, if you want to try this soup and would like to feed a neighborhood or just your small family for a while by freezing it (what I plan to do), here are the steps.

First, you must pretend not to know how much 1 pound of diced sweet potatoes looks like. If you have a good idea, throw it out the window. If you're like me, proceed by chopping up two large sweet potatoes. You will soon realize, when you're chopping and adding the other ingredients, that you've doubled the recipe, at least. Then go back and chop more onion, since there won't be enough. And chop more butternut squash to even out the ratio of potato to squash. And forget to season while it's simmering. This all sounds really complicated, but if these basic steps are followed, you'll have a yummy, savory soup without the chaos of my cooking technique.

2 tablespoons oil (I used olive oil although the recipe calls for canola)
2 medium onions, diced
1 tablespoon minced fresh ginger (I accidentally didn't get around to doubling this part of the recipe, but would have, had I been more on the ball about what was going on. My point is, it still tastes great without doubling.)
1 large butternut squash (and if you're like me and you didn't know that there was an easy way to peel a butternut squash, check this out.)
2 large sweet potatoes
3 medium potatoes
12 cups of chicken stock

I heated the oil in a pan and sauteed the onions with a little added salt to help soften them. I then added the ginger and let that saute for a minute or so. I added the squash, sweet potatoes, regular potatoes and stock. I simmered it for over an hour, until the squash and potatoes were mushy.

Then I transferred the vegetables and onions into the food processor, being careful to keep most of the stock in the pot. I learned quickly that the soup would be way too runny if I used all the stock I'd cooked the vegetables in. I figured I could always add more liquid if the soup was to thick. So I was careful to strain it before blending. Basically, I have a ton of chicken stock left, but the end product is a golden yellow, shiny, smooth, creamy, savory soup. (The salt in the stock and the pinches of salt I used when sauteeing the onions was enough seasoning for this soup. I never seasoned it again, and don't think it needs it.)

Halloween 2008

I know this is a really late post. I started the post a couple weeks ago, and somehow it was lingering in "draft" stage. So I'm finally getting it up here. Enjoy!

Thora was an adorable penguin this year for Halloween. Here are the highlights:

What Magic Exists in Your World, Thora?

So today, Thora and I have been playing this game where she pretends that any sound she hears from our living room is a goat or an owl. In her mind today, these animals are the two most likely suspects for the noises coming from our upstairs neighbors, the car horns or truck engines outside, our dog lying down with a thump underneath the computer table, etc. In her mind, we now live in a barn, occupied solely by goats and owls.

Later this morning, as we were getting ready to leave the house, she repeatedly said something that I couldn't figure out but sounded like "apple pie?" I said to her, "Are you saying 'apple pie?'" "Yeah," she says. "But you don't even know what apple pie is?" We never really got to the bottom of this, because many little distractions happened, who knows what, and the topic was dropped.

Then, today, while I was feeding her lunch, we heard a car beep its horn outside. "What was that noise?" I ask. "Was it a car?" But she says, "No. Goat. Mahhhh... mahhhh." "It was a goat?" I ask, and she says, "No. Ow-ell, ow-ell. Oooh oooh." "It was an owl?" And she says, "No. Booo booo." "It was a cow?" I ask... It goes on like this for another 3 or 4 dozen animals, until the last one when I say, "Was that a kitty cat?" and she says, "No. Apple Pie." "Apple Pie? That noise that sounded just like a car horn was an apple pie?" "Yeah," she said, without any hesitation. What magical entity might "apple pie" be in Thora's imagination? I feel like it could be all Willy Wonka in there or Dr. Suess. If only we could know what's going on between those ears of hers.

Thora Takes Care of her Babies

Here's a little narrative snapshot of my (at times) angel baby.

Thora has LOVED her mini-stroller since we got it, several months ago. For the longest time, up until, say a few weeks ago, the stoller was just for pushing. Nothing could ride in there. Nothing. It didn't matter if Mommy was carrying a bag and pushing the big stroller and dealing with a discarded coat and now the sippy cup is falling out of the bag because the bag is so full, can't we just set this little sippy cup right here in the empty stroller? No. The answer to that is, and will always be, an emphatic No. Don't make me tell you again. That's how life was for a long time.

Then, one day when Thora and I were walking back from the dog park, each of us pushing a stroller (I get to push the big stroller and deal with a pulling, ground-sniffing, squirrel-lunging dog while keeping the toddler from running out into the road or stomping through someone's landscaping or from peering down into a window well, so this is always a really fun outing for me--come to think of it, why do I ever do that?), when Thora noticed a folded blanket in the bottom basket under the big stroller. She wanted it out. She wanted to hold it. She wanted to, was determined to figure out a way to hold the blanket in her arms (NOT over her forearm like a waiter, which was Mommy's idea), and push her mini-stroller at the same time. This did not work. What with the mittens. And her somewhat lacking fine motor skills. So I suggested that we roll the blanket up, in the general shape and size of a baby and put it in her stroller to push. And she went for it. The funniest part of the hour-long journey home (we're traveling something like 10 blocks, a trip that takes me 8 minutes to walk) was when Thora managed to tip over the stroller. "Oh No. Oh No. Baby. Baby!" she said, pointed at the blanket that was laying on the cold sidewalk. "It's okay," I said. "We'll just pick the baby up and put her back in." I did that. And Thora proceeds to say, "Okay, Baby. Okay," while patting the rolled up blanket. She was saying, "it's okay Baby, it's okay." That just about broke my heart and made everything wonderful and blissful... for about a second, because then she refused to hold my hand while crossing the street and dropped to the sidewalk to roll around and throw a tantrum. Then everything was back to normal.

So for a few weeks, we've been transporting blanket babies around the neighborhood, most recently, a set of fraternal blanket baby twins, a green blanket and a pink blanket. And I thought it adorable, but also a bit sad, when I would see her pass a pile of folded laundry in the hallway, spot a folded towel (oh, yeah, one day the blanket baby was really an old towel) and say to it, "okay Baby. Okay," while patting it lovingly. Do I need to get her a real baby doll? Is she really living this life without any knowledge of how pitiful it is?

Then yesterday, she wanted to push her monkey in her stroller, which she alternates calling "monkey" and "ooh ahh ahh," (Thora was taught that a monkey says "ooh ooh ahh ahh" while scratching it's armpits). Earlier in the day, we'd passed a pinwheel in someone's front yard, spinning madly in the wind. She loved this pinwheel. It was one of the last things she said before taking her nap, and I swear, it was the first thing she said when she woke up. "Noun and noun?!? Noun and Noun? Outside?!? Outside?!?" So after getting the piddliest of post-nap snacks in her, our mission was to go see the pinwheel. And surprisingly, this was a sight that she very much wanted the monkey to see as well. And so the monkey, the first object representing something animated, sat in the stroller and we headed out to see the pinwheel (like two and half blocks away, but given all that she is curious about, two and a half blocks can take us 25 minutes).

And sure enough, we didn't get but a half a block when Thora saw an airplane, a shiny silver arrow in the clear, blue sky. "Air-pane. Air-pane," she said. And I said yes, that I saw it too. And then she leaned over so that her face was inches from her monkey's face and said, "Air-pane. Air-pane," and pointed up. "Does he see it? Should we help him see it?" I asked and I picked up the monkey and held him up like I would hold a baby, facing the direction of the disappearing airplane. Then I put him back in the stroller. I thought that might do it. That we could continue on to see the pinwheel and then hopefully make it to the park before nightfall at 4:45pm. (It was 4:05.) No. Thora really wanted to be the one giving her monkey this experience. She picked up the monkey by the head, like you might pick up an apple, and she held the monkey up in the direction of the airplane, now long gone. Her fingers were covering the monkey's plastic eyes, his body hanging limp in a surprisingly sad way. And I was flooded with emotion.

By far, the strongest emotion was pride, that she could understand the beginning lessons of empathy, that she has the desire to help others, that she is nurturing to her little monkey and blanket babies, that she wants them to be "just right" in their stroller. Later, after we'd seen the pinwheel, had actually made it to the park for twenty minutes or so, and were now walking back in the dark, at one point she spent about five minutes adjusting her monkey in the stroller, trying to get his legs just right, and periodically taking him out to softly pat the fur on the back of his head. "This is my beautiful baby!" I thought as I watched her. This is the product of all the time I spend with her, the hours of adult conversation I've forgone over the last year and a half, the repetition of lessons, like "NO STREET" and "NO MOUTH" (meaning "get that rock/crayon/chalk out of your mouth"). This is the product of all the loving caresses, my at times forced patience, my desire to show her the world. Of course, there's a fraction of me that watches her scream just inches from her monkey's face, "Air-pane! Air-pane!" and I wonder, how much of this "nurturing" is her imitation of my nurturing to her. Yikes.

On a related note, at some point I will post about "How to Stifle the Impulsive, Impatient, Coercive Side to Yourself and Find the 'Zen Parent' Within." Seriously. I'm thinking about "the motionless stones that help to move the flowing river" a lot lately, on our 45-60 minute walks to the park. Actually, I don't know if this is part of Zen teaching. I'll need to read up. But seriously. I'm learning to take deep breaths a lot. You should hear me. Really, you should hear the way Thora goes around the house, imitating my long sighing breaths, except she does them with the faintest high-pitched screech. Here's something I don't need to read up on: It's important to keep a sense of humor about things.

A Long Winter Ahead

Today marks the first Monday without a Farmer's Market. No fresh produce from local farms. No fresh baked goods from local bakeries. (Sure, I can get baked goods, but Thora and I had gotten quite used to Hi-Rise Bakery's molasses cookies!) Last week, I stocked up, loading up Thora's stroller with butternut squash, sweet potatoes, fingerling potatoes, and apples. And so, tonight, in celebration of the great eating we've done all season, of the farmer's who have provided our family with fresh, safe, environmentally sound foods, I'm going to try a new recipe for Sweet Potato and Butternut Squash soup, the main ingredients for which I'm flush. My in-laws sent me the recipe from the New York Times. Here's the link if you want to try it too.