Not in the parenting handbook

Yes indeed, indeedy. So, Miss Bee threw a fit tonight over a trash can full of trash. That was a new one.

My poor child has had the worst cold. She is chapped and scrawny and miserable. My sick Bean-pod has had three days of antibiotics which have taken away her ear infection, but given her hives and made her very temperamental, to say the least.

We have endured days of coughing and sneezing and Bee leaving crumpled Kleenex throughout the house as though she were Gretel venturing off into a dark forest.

In an attempt to corral the tissues, we placed a trashcan at the edge of her bed. This was having a positive effect until tonight. It was trash night in our house and my husband was busily emptying all the cans upstairs. Suddenly I heard screeching coming from Bee's room. "They're mine! They're my tissues. You can't take them out," she cried.

Disbelieving my ears, I hurried to my daughter's room and found her and my husband involved in a fierce game of tug of war over the plastic trash can.

You can guess who won that battle, but I had the harder task of consoling Bee over the thrown out, lost forever, dirty tissues. (It's really hard to do that with a straight face, by the way.) And then I had to make her go apologize for yelling at her father. Over snotty kleenex.

Buying the cow . . .

So I guess it all really started when I read "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle," about three years ago. I went from not really thinking about the food we ate at all to thinking a lot about it, and how I wanted to feed my family. Since then, dear husband and I have dabbled in vegetarianism--organic food--buying local--farmer's markets--cooking from scratch--baking bread with a wild yeast starter--and now, milk delivery.

Over the course of several years, I have learned a lot of terminology: Grams of sugar. High fructose corn syrup. Cage free eggs versus certified humane. The prevalence of corn products in the American food supply. Feed lots. Factory farming. The difference between grass fed versus grass finished beef. Shopping the perimeter of the grocery store.

Some of the above activities were compulsory, a part of living in Romania. In Bucharest, if you wanted good vegetables, you bought them at the market. If we wanted to make an "American" apple pie, we had to make it from scratch. This new-found self-sufficiency has had such an impact on our lives, however, that we bought our house in America within walking distance of a farmer's market. I have learned a lot of things. Sure, you can buy canned pumpkin at the grocery store. It tastes fine. When I'm feeling lazy, that's what I do. However, it does not have the depth of flavor of the cheese pumpkin I bought at the farmer's market, baked in the oven, and pureed in my food processor.

Mainstream America would read the above sentence and roll its eyes in disbelief. I think most people would scoff at my refusal to buy Poptarts and laugh at my "Little House on the Prairie" pantry stocking tendencies. That's okay. And you know, I will eat at McDonalds once in a while, but in the full knowledge that most of my meal is some sort of corn by-product. We do buy some premade items, like veggie burgers, for the nights when we are feeling too lazy to cook much. We eat out and at friends and family's houses without worrying about where they buy their products or the ethics behind the meat that we're being served. (Because really, we are just ecstatic for anyone else to be doing the cooking!)

But so I actually wanted to write about our milk delivery service. There is a small dairy in Maryland called South Mountain Creamery that delivers milk, orange juice (from an amazing farm in Florida), yogurt, cheese, eggs, meat, bread, and even some pre-made dinners. The milk is incredible. It even comes in glass bottles (you return them to the company when empty.) You sign up to participate through their website and within a few weeks you house is added to a delivery route. On delivery day, you have to leave out a cooler with ice so that the products don't spoil. I cannot tell you how much I enjoy this service. It's a worthwhile splurge. I am grateful to be able to feed my family well and hopefully raise adventurous eaters in my daughters!

Is it still a vegetable if it's fried?

So I am trying to summon the energy to get up a do at least a few chores before going to bed. It's chilly downstairs though and my bed is just so comfortable. Both the girls are asleep. We have finally managed to get Miss McGoo to go to sleep around the same time as her sister, which is a blessing. (Never mind that she still wakes up in the night, at least we have the whole going to sleep thing figured out.)

Tonight my dear husband made eggplant parmigiana and boy was it good. He has perfected this recipe, as he has with most things that involve cheese and/or frying. Eggplant parmigiana is that perfect combination of decadent and down-home that elevates an ordinary weeknight into something special. It almost makes you break out a tablecloth and some candlesticks. (I say almost, because we didn't quite get that far. But Miss Bee did set the table quite nicely.)

So here's how you make it:

Eggplant Parmigiana
by Dear Husband

Slice 1-1.5 lbs eggplant and put in a large bowl filled with cold salted water. Let them soak for ten minutes or so.
Prepare the eggplant for frying: dip the slices in flour, then into a beaten egg, and then panko bread crumbs.
Fry eggplant in a large skillet with as little oil as you can get away with.
Stack on paper towels to drain.

To make the sauce-mix one can tomato sauce and one can chopped tomatoes. Season liberally with salt, pepper, basil, oregano, and red pepper.

Slice one pound of mozzarella cheese.

Arrange eggplant in a single layer in a large baking dish. Stack one slice mozzarella cheese on each piece of eggplant and cover with tomato sauce.
Repeat with the second layer.

Bake at 375 degrees until the cheese is melted and the sauce is hot and bubbly, approximately 20 minutes.

Serve over angel hair pasta.
Swoon.
Enjoy watching your children eat aforementioned pasta. (Especially the 11 month old!)
Have seconds, or pack up the rest for a Tuesday bag lunch that all your colleagues will envy.

Her eyes

All the colors of the sea. Blue and brown and gold and green.

I am hopelessly smitten with this baby girl of mine.

I heart Maileg design

Both my Mom and I have an obsession with Maileg home design, particularly their Danish Christmas elves, or pixes. I have been browsing through a Danish design website that has one of the largest selections online-- and have been alternating between drooling over the Christmas decorations and laughing hysterically at Danish-English Google translations.

Take this one, for instance:

********

Drug pixies

Maileg funky and stylish fabrics elves, in sizes XL to the micro.
Elves have long, long, striped legs and arms, a long red hat and all are in separate nissetøj, depending on the collection and vintage.
Among such limbed sizes can occur pixie-teasing ... so be prepared - big and small.

*********

I am prepared!


But what I really want to know is where I can find this advent calendar!

Child labor

Last week, my husband took Bee to the pediatrician for her four year old checkup. During the visit, the doctor asked Bee a lot of different questions, partly to distract her from the fact that she was about to receive five immunizations, but also to check her language ability.

After Bee successfully answered a few basic things the doctor asked, "What is your favorite thing to do with your Mommy and Daddy?" Her favorite thing, as in the thing she loves to do with her parents more than anything else. . .

Now, if you had asked me to speculate on this question, I might have had a couple ideas--bringing a stack of picture books over to Starbucks for special reading time with Mommy; riding her brand new scooter to school with Daddy; being pulled in her red wagon to the farmer's market on Saturday mornings; carving pumpkins for Halloween and her owl-themed birthday party that included an owl pinata and very adorable owl cake. . .cue the happy family music right there folks. But when the question was put to our saintly daughter, only one thing came to her mind:

"Vacuuming."

This should be an interesting year.