A Busy Morning with Little P

We woke up to howling wind, freezing temperatures, and blowing snow this morning. Little P proceeded to ask me about a hundred times where the “no (snow) man” was because she just assumes if there’s snow, no matter how little, that there should be a snowman. Poor kiddo. She was having enough of a hard time with no more Belle the “naughty ELF!” and “Danta” (Santa). Now, there’s no snow man. She was finding all a little hard to handle.

So, I kept the curtains closed and tried to keep her busy.

We had an exciting morning of painting, prepping for supper (chicken curry tonight!), doing laundry, and making delicious Broccoli Cheddar Quinoa Bites!

We read LOTS of books.

She was very hesitant to paint, at first.

It took her awhile to warm up to the idea of making a mess.

 But, she eventually got into it and LOVED it!

I have a feeling we will be painting a lot this winter! 

I had a couple of people ask me for the recipe for Broccoli Cheddar Quinoa Bites, so I thought I’d just share it this way to make things easier. It’s based on the one found here: http://tiphero.com/broccoli-cheddar-quinoa-bites/

I’d seen this video before and loved the idea but I didn’t think that the onion, garlic, and broccoli would cook through enough in the 15 minute time it took for these to bake. I didn’t want to use a longer bake time because I knew the bites would dry out, so I made some changes.

I sauteed the onion and garlic first because I know my girls wouldn’t like the crunch of the raw onion. I used a steamer bag of broccoli florets instead of raw broccoli. Once the broccoli was cooked I squeezed all of the liquid out of it using paper towels, so I could get it as dry as possible. Then, I chopped it up finely.

¾ c. quinoa rinsed and drained

1 ½ c. low sodium vegetable broth

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 c. onion, chopped

1 T. olive oil

1 bag of frozen broccoli florets cooked, dried and chopped finely

2 eggs, beaten

1 ½-2 c fresh grated cheese ( used ½ mozzarella and ½ mild cheddar)

salt & pepper

Preheat oven to 350. Spray a mini muffin tin with cooking spray.

Rinse and drain the quinoa using a fine mesh strainer. Put the quinoa and the vegetable stock in a pot, bring it to a boil. Immediately lower the heat to a simmer, cover it, and leave it alone for 15 minutes. Don’t salt the quinoa here. Salt can prevent it from blooming completely, leaving it with a hard center that isn’t very good.

While the quinoa cooks, steam the broccoli in the microwave. Saute the onion and garlic in the olive oil. Salt it as it cooks. Set it aside once it is done.

Once the broccoli is done, dry it as much as possible with paper towels. Then, chop it up finely.

Mix the broccoli, onion, and garlic in a large bowl. Salt & pepper.

Once the quinoa is done, fluff it with a fork and let it cool for a few minutes. Then, add it to the broccoli mixture.

Add in 1 ½ c. cheese and the two beaten eggs. Stir it well.

Using a small cookie dough scoop put one scoop in each muffin spot. Add a little cheese to the top. Bake for 15-20 minutes.

Once they are out of the oven it is best to let them sit for a few minutes to firm up, otherwise they fall apart. Trust me, I ended up eating two of them because they fell apart! 

Super filling, full of protein, and I bet they will freeze well. I'm going to freeze some on a sheet tray and then put them in a Ziplock bag so I can pull them out easily for Sweet S' lunch box. The girl LOVES quinoa. She'll be excited to try these when she gets home!

Thanksgiving Grace

Sometimes a picture really is worth a thousand words.
In this case, these several photos are worth so much more than a thousand.
We were fortunate enough to have Barbara Clarke of Barbara Clarke Photography take our family photos recently. Other than the newborn photos we did with the amazing Rachel Larsen just two weeks after Little P was born we have not done any other professional photos.

Sorry, Little P. It looks like everyone was right. The second kid syndrome is a real thing. Mama FAIL.
BUT.
These photos.

I won't bore you with the typical and predictable criticisms of myself and just say that I love them. I really, really do love them.
My beautiful girls. My handsome husband. Even Jim Rock the rescue dog! My entire world set to a gorgeous Nantucket sky that looks like a watercolor painting created just for my little family.

See? I told you. They are worth so much more than words. 

And with that I'll end with this...I am more grateful for this life, these babies, and this man than I could ever put into words. God has given me more than I ever asked for myself. All I ever wanted to was to be safe and happy, to be able to provide those things for my children. I have that and SO much more. He's given me blessings I never even would have thought to ask for...children who show me every day that love really can walk around this Earth and a love between my husband and I that I only ever believed happened in books until it happened to me.

For a girl like me, one who adores words, this is a hard thing...to just be quiet and acknowledge that sometimes gratitude isn't spoken but shown in a million different ways every single day through hugs, kisses, snuggles, forgiveness, smiles, and grace. 

What I haven't done.

I've been writing this blog in my head for weeks. I kept thinking, I should really sit down and write all of this out.

I never did, obviously, since you haven't seen or heard more than a Facebook or Instagram post from me since June.

I started out thinking I'd talk about all of the fun stuff we did all summer. Then I realized I've been posting all of that on social media anyway. Beach, road trip, family visits, cookouts...all wonderful but no surprises there!

Then, I started thinking about what I didn't do this summer. I find that I've enjoyed the absence of so many things just as much as I did all of the presence of others. It was the NOT doing that left me open to truly enjoying my summer the way I'd always wanted. Of course I have some mom guilt over a few boring (according to my seven year old) days, but I'm over that...for the most part.

Anyway, let's talk about what I didn't do, stopped doing, refused to do, or just gave up on since June.

I didn't script out every day of my daughter's summer vacation.

No back to back weeks of camp, no crazy scheduled play-dates, no going to every event on island so we didn't feel left out and she could see her friends every single day. Nope, I didn't do it. She went to vacation bible school. We went on bike rides. We went to our friend's pool and to the beach on Saturday's. We hung out in the back yard. We played with the dog. We made our own fairy garden.
We took naps or had quiet time every single day.

I stopped wearing makeup every day.

This was pretty big for me. I'd worn make up every single day since I was 14, no matter what. I was used to getting up and getting ready for work every day and was surprised at how easily I just stopped. Maybe a little mascara, maybe some concealer. That's it. I've loved it!

I've blow dried my hair ONCE since June. One time! and that was kind of a half-assed attempt, if I'm being honest. Have you seen this mane?! It's too hot and humid for all of that. I may never go back!

I stopped judging myself for not being like other moms. I stopped allowing the preconceived notions my OWN insecurities have created to be in the forefront of my mind. It's so easy to get caught up in the keeping up. I hate the idea of my kid being left out, but what I hate even more is realizing I don't ever see my kid because she's always at an activity or an event. I'm not judging anyone else's parenting by making that statement; I'm speaking strictly for myself. I love for Sweet S to get invited to play-dates and parties, and it breaks my heart to realize that maybe she's excluded because of me and MY lack of participation, but I've stopped letting that fear and insecurity drive me. It's not fair to her and it's not fair to me. I can only be the kind of mom that's authentic to me and I've stopped beating myself up over it (mostly).

I did away with 'school time' every day. I used to be much more structured. Instead, we did binder work a couple of times a week, usually during quiet time. Sweet S did lots of math and reading practice but when she was tired, or asked if she could stop, I let her. We read other books with her, too, but I didn't worry too much about how much she was doing. She loves science so we grew some crystals in our kitchen.


The most important thing I didn't do?

I never once woke up and wished I was somewhere else, getting ready to do something else, or wishing I had somewhere else to be. I did not think about going back to work. I had no anxiety whatsoever about staying home. I never once felt like I needed to be somewhere else. I never questioned my decision to stay home and be with my girls every single day. I didn't question that I was right where I needed to be, ever.

A Gift.

My southern blood is just a little too thin for New England "spring," which is insanely unpredictable. We are enjoying a beach day one day and pulling out the jackets the next. 

Nantucket is a moody Gray Lady.

Today, though. TODAY was a gift! 

Bright, humid, sunny. All of my favorite things. 

It seems that every time I've just about had IT with this island and her crazy, moody weather she throws me a smile in the form of a day like today.

We're perfect for each other, really.

Sweet S and I rushed to daycare to pick up Little P right at 3:00. We were home, in shorts, and playing in the backyard by 3:15. 

Little P spent the better part of an hour squealing "weeee!" in her swing as Sweet S and I took turns pushing her and playing with the dog.

S worked on her fairy house and pretended she was a fairy herself, sitting high in our cherry blossom tree.

She loves the trees.

The girls played together while I threw the ball for Jim. It was such a glorious afternoon! The only thing missing was Preston, who has a big inspection going on at work and has had a lot going on this week. 

It was just one of those days that I could not waste with dishes, laundry, or cooking. 

Today was a gift and spending it with my girls was the only thing that made sense.

Oh, and we may or may not have decided that grabbing some spoons and a brand new carton of ice cream was a much better idea than dinner.

We did. We totally did! 

A Big Change.

Change.

What just happened when you read that word?

It either ignites anxiety or excitement, angst or joy.

There are those thrive on it, who can’t seem to function without some type of constant upheaval going on in their lives. We all also have those people in our lives that just can’t seem to get it together, who move around all of the time and hop from job to job.

Others are terrified of it to the point of avoiding any kind of change at all costs. It can be seen in all areas of their lives. Let’s be honest. We all know that woman who is still wearing her ice blue eye shadow from 1986 and the friend who is miserable in their job (or relationship) because they are too scared to try something new, to venture into the unknown.

I don’t fall into either of those categories. I think I’m comfortably right there in the middle, like most people. I enjoy trying new things, going to new places. I love, love, love learning new things. I don’t FEAR change but I am a cautious person by nature. I’m not going to avoid it but I may not go looking for it, either.

I am the queen of adaptation. I may not be the one to initiate a change, but I’m your girl if you’re looking for someone to quickly figure out how to make the situation work. It’s a skill I developed as a child when my family was moving a lot and things seemed to be happening faster than I could manage. If I can’t control the situation I can, at the very least, control how I handle it and how it affects me. This has always been my saving grace. It is what gets me through, what allows me to problem solve quickly and what has made me good at my job.

I have been honing my skill of efficiently adapting for the last ten years. I started my current job when I was twenty-one years old and fresh off the Steamship to Nantucket. I’d just made a HUGE change and moved myself half way across the country with my boyfriend and everything we owned in an 8x10 trailer.

There it is, the change. The initiation of a change. The change that led to something great. That single decision led me right to where I am today. Fast forward ten years and I am married to Preston with two beautiful daughters, in our own home on Nantucket, and still doing that same job.

Other than two short breaks to have my girls, I have walked through the door to Cyrus Peirce Middle School every school day to do my job as a Teaching Assistant. It’s been my identity. It’s been what I love. I’ve worked hard to be good at what I do, to try to make a difference for the kids I help and the teachers I work with every day.

I’ve learned some things about myself that I would have never imagined were there. I’ve grown from a somewhat shy and quiet young woman into a confident advocate. I’ve pushed my students to do their best and pushed myself even harder. I've cried over perceived failures and celebrated even the most minute successes.

I’ve seen a lot of change in ten years. Three superintendents. Five principals, Numerous teachers come and go, some retiring and others just realizing island life isn’t for them.

Over one thousand students. One thousand students!

That’s a lot of change, a lot of adapting.

I’m thinking that it may be time for me to once again initiate rather than adapt. Maybe it’s time for me to actually be the change.

So, after months of discussion and encouragement from my husband I wrote a letter requesting a leave of absence for next school year. I thought sitting down to write that letter would be so hard for me. It wasn’t. It felt right. The words came easily and the guilt I was expecting didn’t come. Instead came excitement and happy anticipation...and hope.

For the the first time in my adult life I will not have a job. No paycheck. No schedules to keep, only one backpack to organize. 

Only two children to worry and lose sleep over.

For the first time in their lives my children won’t have to share their mom with other children.

I will relish in being a mom and a wife.

I will cook and write and clean and love…

...and grow

...and change.

Definition

I’ve been thinking about what I want Salty Island Mama to be. 

I began by researching blogs. Research is always my go-to. I love information but there is SO much stuff out there. I don’t recommend reading any of it, really. It all inevitably ends with some sort of recommendation about how to develop a brand and increase readership. I think that’s supposed to be the goal of blogs these days.  I started feeling totally overwhelmed with all of the rules and suggestions and almost just said to hell with the entire thing.

In trying to figure out what I want this blog to be I have actually had more luck with what I don’t want it to become. Typical. Why can’t my brain just work in drive? I always have to do things in reverse for them to make sense. If you’re ever looking for me, make sure to check the longest way around possible. I’m pretty sure that’s where I’ll be!

I don’t want it to be some sort of angsty journal. I tend to get a little too serious sometimes and overthink things too much. I get wordy and say too much. I like to write to deal with my feelings and I am going to try hard not to use this page as my therapeutic dumping ground. I can’t promise that it won’t happen from time to time but I promise to try to regulate myself!

I certainly don’t want it to become some preachy blog that makes people feel like I think I know it all. God knows I most certainly don’t know it all about a damned thing and I’d actually like to keep it that way. As soon as people start thinking you’re an expert on anything is when it’s impossible to get any peace. People are either asking lots of questions or criticizing. I’d like neither, thank you. Plus, preachy people are annoying.

It’s definitely not going to be a platform for some social media fake perfect life. At the risk of violating promise number one, I will try to always keep it real. Sometimes how great things are may make you want to puke and sometimes I may be a little too salty and make you mad. Either way it’s going to be my truth and let’s be honest here, sometimes truth isn’t pretty. There are also times when it is really the most beautiful thing in the world. I’m happy to share both.

That leads me to what Salty Island Mama will be.

I adore my husband and my kids and I love to talk about them. There will most definitely be lots of mama and love stuff here.

I love my island and the life my husband and I have built here. Nantucket has been good to us and continues to amaze me in new ways with every year that passes. I've been on this rock for ten years and consider it my home. I love all of its nuances and contradictions, its compassion and its community. It's a part of who I am so I know it will be reflected here.

My kitchen is my happy place and feeding people I love is what I do, so there will absolutely be copious amounts of food talk. Cooking is my therapy and although I am NO chef by any means, it is something I have learned to do pretty well according to the people who frequent my table.

I’m on the cusp of some changes in my life and when I figure out how to word what I want to say I’ll write about those things, too. 

Teaching is something I love to do and although my outlet for that may be changing soon I am sure I will write about however I choose to focus that energy.

So there you have it, what Salty Island Mama will be and also what I will strive to keep it from becoming. I’m sure it will morph and change over time. I hope so, because that means I'll be learning a lot as I go!

Finding the Reason

Lesson number one when I was learning to write: have a purpose. 

Who was my audience? What was the point? Why was it important? Make me care, my high school journalism teacher used to say.

I keep asking myself why I feel the need to sit down and write now. What is my purpose? Who is my audience? What is the point? Do I even want anyone to care?

I don’t know the answer to those questions.

Here is what I do know.

I am a mama of two girls. Little P is fifteen months old and Sweet S is seven. They are the center of my universe, my reason for breathing, my purpose in life. In spite of this, I still feel like I am just taking this motherhood thing day by day. I try to make my parenting decisions based in love first, above all. This doesn’t mean that I’m one of those moms that thinks my kids should do what makes them happy all the time and am super lovey dovey every second of every minute. It actually means the opposite. I love my girls so much that I want them to be able to handle both happiness and sadness and go through this life knowing that although they don’t always get what they want that they can still be happy. Making my decisions in love means I want my girls to be strong, not that I feel like they should never feel disappointed or sad.

My kids will respect themselves and others. They will BEHAVE. They will listen. They will, above all else, be KIND.

I am a strict mama. I’m no joke. It’s not easy being my kid, I am sure. Just ask Sweet S. She’ll tell you!

This is not for the new mom looking for direction or suggestions. I am not an authority on raising kids or having babies. I’m just faking it to make it every single day.

I am a wife to a wonderful man. P is one of those guys that everyone loves. He’s the nice guy, always there to help. He works hard and he works a lot. He provides for our family, takes care of our home, loves me and our girls, puts the toilet seat down, does laundry, and does it all without much complaint or asking for much from me.

He brings home two big bottles of wine at a time without judgment.

He’s the guy that my friends, when they see him with me, later tell me I’m so lucky to have because it’s so obvious that he loves me that much. It’s that crazy, irrational, I’d do anything in the whole wide world for you love.

No, I’m not just saying all of that. No, that doesn’t mean that we don’t have moments when we want to kill each other. No, that doesn’t mean he’s perfect.

But he’s close. Oh, so close.

I’m grateful for him every single second of every single day. I know I have it good. I know that people pray for this kind of love. I know that it’s not something I’m owed or that I’ve earned. I know that he is a gift.

This is not for the wife looking to help her marriage, or for advice. I have no advice. I have no suggestions for how to have a happy marriage. All I have is love and respect for the man I married and we work at it every single day.

I started writing when I was a sophomore in high school. I’d signed up for Journalism I when I moved to Bellevue, Nebraska because I was a good English student and my guidance counselor thought it might be a good place for me to make some friends. I thought he was nuts. He didn’t even know me. My fifteen year old self was convinced that no one really knew me, including that guy! I signed up anyway though.

He was right, as it turned out. I walked through the door of that classroom and breathed a sigh of relief. There, sitting on a table in the front of the room, was the very pregnant teacher who greeted me with the biggest smile and the kindest hello. She welcomed me, nurtured me from the start. She was one of those teachers who just knew what a kid needed. She taught me that my words mattered and that I could use them to tell a story, to make people listen. She taught me how to write and through that I learned how to use words to heal myself. Even when I wasn’t writing about myself or how I felt, I was writing for myself.

Over ten years later and I still, even though it’s not as frequent, write for myself.

Over ten years later and the friends I made there are still among some of my best.

So maybe I do have the answers to those questions.

Who is my audience? What is the point? Why is it important? Make me care.

It’s ME. I am the answer?

I’m writing for me. I’m writing because even though I may not know why, I feel like I NEED to right now. I don’t know what I will write about or even how often I’ll sit down and write. I like knowing that I have a place to do it, though. I have a spot in the big wide internet world that I’ve created for myself.

Yes.

It’s for ME.