Pre-natal Mentality

Earlier this week I read an interesting article in the New York Times about efforts to prevent childhood obesity. The article questioned public health efforts to curb the epidemic by focusing on exercise and diet in childhood, stating that it could be "too little, too late." Instead, they posited that the real foundation for optimal body weight is laid in the first five years of life, and most importantly - the time spent in the womb.

My mind zipped forward to my next pregnancy (no, not yet) and I started taking mental notes on what I will and will not eat, drink, and do. Not even pregnant, I am starting to construct a mental image of a nutrient dense super chamber that will incubate my fetus into a human being in its finest form. This is something that women (and men) often do: we read and discuss ways to make our babies as healthy as they can be. This of course continues after they are born as we stare suspiciously at our stored jars of breast milk ("Does it look a little yellow today? Too watery?") and consistency of homemade organic baby food. Then there is the air purifier, the hours upon hours of sleeping and napping, the enrichment activities, the constant encouragement, love, and appreciation for their uniqueness and growth. It's all good, all the time. And I am not questioning this. It is amazing to see how they thrive in this environment of love.

But the other day, Chad asked if he could give Tate a bite of ice cream. Normally, I say "sure, one bite." But that day I said, "I think we're getting into a habit of giving him refined sugars on a regular basis -- let's just keep it to special occasions." He agreed. Then, we both had ourselves a nice bowl of ice cream. With cookies on top. And I am questioning this.

While I do understand that it is of utmost importance to give our babies and children the best nutrition possible since they are laying their mental, physical, and emotional foundations for their whole lives, what are we implying by ignoring similar standards for ourselves? That it's too late for us to be healthy so why try? That we are as good as we're ever going to get, so may as well enjoy the ride down from the Pinnacle of Health to Resigned at Middle Age? That our lives are less valuable?

We are also someone's kids. Someone also wants the best air, the best water, the best food, the best environment for us -- even if its difficult to always provide that. But we should always try to treat ourselves like our lives are as valuable as our kids, and that it is as important for us to be functional, healthy and happy as it is for them. And the healthier and happier we are, the more of ourselves we can give to our children.

Oregon Prettiness

I had forgotten how beautiful Oregon is. It is beyond pretty, it's actually sort of ridiculous. I remember when my dear friend Sonja visited me in New Orleans and remarked that the humidity there was so strong, it was like you walked outside and somebody threw a wet towel over your head. I feel the same way about Oregon, but it's like somebody threw a big bag of pretty over your head. Sometimes I will be walking and the incredible greenness of this place is almost enough to make me dizzy. Or just really happy. And on top of it all, spring is here. Tate and I (and Boo too!) have taken advantage of this by taking lots of walks and hikes. Here are some highlights:

Such fun today! The daylight savings change has moved Tate's nap back a bit, which means that we are able to take advantage of toddler activities that normally start right smack in the middle of REM. Today, we took on Mr. Ben's "Singers and Stomper's" over at Posie's Cafe in the Kenton neighborhood. Tate doesn't hang out with groups of kids very often, and when he does he tends to sort of observe and hold back momentarily...and then proceed to toddle over and eat all of their Cheerio's straight out of their mother's hands.

Here is a little pictorial...

"Gee, ma, thanks for taking me on such a great playdate with the princesses....just what I always wanted."(Doesn't he look like he's trying to escape bad conversation at a cocktail party?)



But then Mr. Ben started his singing and the grooving began..."Hey man, nice blue kicks...Thanks doll, your pink sparkly slippers are fierce next to your striped tights....And dude, we are totally digging on your high-heels back there...."



Tate takes a breather. This belly is hard to hold up. Prune juice on the rocks for the man in stars and stripes, please.



And finally, a gratuitous pic of a precious Portland child. Wearing a handmade acorn cap. And his name was Alder. After the tree. Of course.

Ode to Yogurt

One of my new favorite things is the free publication Edible Portland, which features a ton of great recipes, gardening tips, and do-it-yourself projects. In the most recent issue, Lola Millholand wrote a how-to article about making yogurt, and it was such a fun read that I had to try it myself. Many years ago I dated a young man with a chronic tummy-ache (also known as Chrone's Disease), and to help his condition he noshed on homemade yogurt created with a special machine and a mysterious substance called "starter." The whole experience looked a little intimidating and witch-crafty, and I had exactly zero interest in trying it myself. But Lola's article changed all that. I could do it. You can do it. But WHY do it when any grocery store carries it?

Well, first of all you can save money. To make about 8 servings of yogurt will run you the cost of a half-gallon of milk.

Secondly, homemade yogurt is *healthier* for you than the store-bought variety which is teeming with preservatives, added sugar, and has traveled a great distance to actually reach you. By the time it does, it's level of beneficial bacteria (or "active live cultures") is about half of what you'd get if it were made in your home and eaten right away. I have sort of been confused about the benefits of yogurt for awhile, since it is a dairy product and therefore mucus-producing...but yogurt is fermented, and because of that the live cultures in it make it truly a superfood for boosting immunity and improving digestion. The populations that have the longest life-span in the world are also generally yogurt-eating cultures. One of them, incidentally, is the Georgian culture. At the market in the Republic of Georgia they sold wonderful yogurt made from the milk of water-buffalo. It was very rich and tasted similar to this homemade recipe that I will share with you here.

Thirdly, it is seriously yummy. Now, you can't make this stuff and expect it to taste like Dannon (also yummy) - because it is totally different. It is tart and tangy, creamy but also very light and clean on the palate. Imagine the difference between ice cream and gelato. This is the same difference you will find in store-bought versus homemade yogurt.

And finally, it makes you feel like a sorceress to be able to convert milk into yogurt. And babies dig it.

So finally, how to do it. Here goes:

1. To make yogurt, you need "starter" which is - well, yogurt. Get 2 tablespoons of plain yogurt of any fat content you wish. (Generally, the lower the fat content, the thicker the yogurt.) Whisk it in a small bowl for a few seconds until it's smooth, and let it sit until it hits room temperature, about 30 minutes.

2. Pour 3 1/2 cups of milk into a saucepan. You may use full-fat, non-fat, low-fat, whatever floats your proverbial boat. You can also use goat's milk, sheep's milk or water buffalo milk -- not that water buffalo milk is normally sitting in the dairy section of your local Safeway. Heat the milk over medium heat, stirring often, until small bubbles begin to form around the edges and it gets foamy. *Do NOT let it boil or scorch.* If you have a candy thermometer, let is reach 180 degrees.

3. Turn off the heat and let it cool down for about 10 minutes or until it reaches the temperature of a hot (but bearable) bath. It should be in between 110 and 120 degrees.

4. Take a small amount of milk and pour it into the yogurt. Whisk until the yogurt is more like a liquid. Now pour the liquidy-yogurt into the saucepan. Stir to combine.

5. Pour this hot milky yogurt stuff into a glass jar, and let sit for 7-ish hours at about 90 to 100 degrees. You know, in your local sauna. Just kidding. You can turn the oven light on, wrap the jar in a towel, and set it in there overnight. You can put a tall jar or insulated lunch box over the jar and sit it over your heater. If you have a "proof" setting on your oven, this would be perfect. I do the oven light method, which works great.

6. TA-DA! After about 7 hours, open the jar up and marvel at your creation. It invokes in me a good deal of pride. Now, put it in the fridge and let it get nice and cold, about an hour. Top with fruit, honey, granola, nuts, whatever tickles your fancy! Enjoy!

Spring has sprung in our neighborhood

Boo update

So, first there was this:




Oh, KEEP HIM!! And five minutes later there was this, and then that:







The hole is actually quite impressive. When I saw it, my first thought was "He is destroying our yard." And my second thought was "Wow, Boo, that took a lot of work. I don't know of any dog that would have that much stick-to-it-iveness and drive to dig such an elaborate and deep tunnel system in our backyard." He is doing what he is made to do: he is a work dog.

So, tomorrow he is meeting the sweet farmer lady who has agreed to let us all do a trial period. She will take him home and see how well he fits into their pastoral environment and family, and we will see how we feel without little Boo in our lives. Either one of us can call quitsies at any time. I think it sounds like a great setup - and she has been incredibly patient and supportive. She even said that if she does keep him, she will send us photos and we can dog sit him occasionally.

Will keep you posted...

Does Tate-n-pet-rock.blogspot.com have a ring to it??

In my first post, I promised you 3 things - and #3 was to be honest. So, in light of that commitment, here goes...

Oh Boo, how you torture me you precious little cajun dog. Boo is now 11 months old and he is the most endearing, beautiful, loving, hyper-active, stranger-jumping, rose-bush-digging, Tate-toy-eating, floor-scratching, white-hair-shedding, SOB dog you have ever met.

The day before yesterday, I was at my wits' end. I looked out Tate's bedroom window and saw Boo's butt. The rest of him was underground. He was about 3 feet deep into a new hole and was heading towards China, fast. ACK! I put him in the house with his breakfast. Within mere moments, his bowls were destroyed and he was beginning to work on the carpet. In a panic I screamed "CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!! I am DONE." He came in and we sat down and discussed why, perhaps, Boo was acting like this.

All fingers pointed to US, not Boo. Boo is a puppy. This is what he does: he explores, plays, exercises. Like Tate. So are providing Boo what he needs? Are we his ideal family? Would he be better off elsewhere? Are we at a time in our lives to be able to fully give to this high-needs puppy? Chad told me that because I am home most of the day and most all of Boo's responsibilities fall on my lap, it was my decision about whether or not I had enough to give. About whether I wanted to keep him. He would support my decision either way.

So, within about 7 minutes, Boo's adorable little spotted face was gracing the ads of Portland's Craigslist. I KNOW! I KNOW! I'm SO AWFUL. But isn't it more loving to say goodbye if you can't adequately meet what the other needs? Within moments, I heard back from a lovely woman in eastern Oregon that has acres,a farm, horses, teenagers, and a two-year old lab looking for a friend. Oh, this was good. She was perrrrfect. We emailed all morning, asking questions, exchanging photos, setting up meeting times. And then.

And then, I got ANOTHER email. This time, it was from Simoni. You know, Simoni, the woman that has the irish labradoodle that plays with Boo everyday (OK, every other day) at the dog park? Yeah. She saw Boo on Craigslist. And she was not happy about it. "You made a lifelong commitment to that dog. You wouldn't re-home Tate, you shouldn't re-home Boo. If you don't have time to walk him, I will for free." OK, so Simoni has four kids under the age of six. And she wants to come over and walk my dog for free because I can't seem to handle it with my ONE child. Ugh. Now I really AM pathetic.

So I looked at Boo, I looked at Tate, I looked at my house (in shambles) and decided to stop being so pathetic. I even texted Chad "let's stop being pathetic." Then I grabbed Boo and gave him a good bath. (Which he was excellent for, by the way.) Then I got rid of his old kennel and brought him in the *delux* kennel, which takes up approximately 75% of my dining room and looks great under the chandelier. When Chad came home, we went on a run with Boo and Tate, and then Chad took him to the dog park. I am serious, people. And this is no short-term commitment. Today, Tate and Boo and I went hiking. Which went GREAT until Boo literally ran into (and on to) a park ranger, who then gave us a warning for being off leash in a national forest. Oops. At any rate, Boo was excellent off-leash and was absolutely charming as he leaped through the air for butterflies (ahem, probably the very butterflies that the park ranger is attempting to protect) and bounded up and down the trails happily. Tate thought that the whole charade was hilarious and sung "dah, dah, dah" (this is his version of "dog") for the entire hike.

SO, I still have my appointment on Saturday to meet with the heaven-sent farmer lady. But I can cancel. I am giving it a lot of thought. We want to be able to give Boo what he needs, and maybe if we can really get our act together, we will be able to do that. He is a good, good dog. Even if he did destroy his FOURTH doggie bed today.

Oh, and for the record, this is the photo that I chose NOT to use on the Craigslist ad: