Bedroom Planning for Three

We made a choice when we moved into this house to prioritize shared social space and minimize rooms lost to bedrooms. In practice, that meant that at first, J and I took a tiny bedroom upstairs, giving Scout our big, weird closet as a “closery” and assigning Pip the identical bedroom across the hall. It worked well, dealing with nocturnal disturbances, because we are all so close to one another.

We moved Scout in with Pippin sometime in the winter, and things went swimmingly. Despite a friend and mother of four promising kids sleep soundly in shared rooms, I was still shocked and awed every time someone would throw up overnight (my kids are barfers), and the other wouldn’t even wake up.

I never shared a bedroom, and boy, was the adjustment to a dorm a doozy (sorry, Megan!). J shared with his brother till he was a teenager. But some of the children I love the best in this generation are stacked two and three to a room, and seem to be surviving and thriving just fine.

As we enter the third trimester countdown (always a little spooked now that this baby might be a 36-weeker, too), I recently picked up a Ikea Kura bunk bed at a yard sale for $25. I had first read about the beds’ flexibility on Camp Patton, and soon found the Internet is chock full of interesting customizations.

We were on a bit of a budget after our summer of exciting, scary purchases, so I set out to use as many hoarded gift cards as possible to outfit Scout’s big girl setup.

  • Bed: $179 for $25 (used)
  • Sheets, waterproof mattress protector, pillow, duvet: $73.62 brought down to $0 by sale, Target gift card and Visa gift card
  • Duvet cover: $31.05 brought down to $6.05 by Visa gift card
  • Mattress: $105 minus $25 Amazon gift card, brought down to $80 (I probably could have gone lower with this, offsetting with more gift cards, but it was just too bleak to spend fun money on a mattress of all things)


That brought the whole project down to just over $111, instead of a projected $388.67 — which would have been much higher if I gave into my deep and abiding (though unrequited) love for Land of Nod bed linens.

There is room, now, for Roo’s crib when we banish her from the closery, when she’s sleeping more soundly through the night, and room for books and hijinks, too. Scout has transferred seamlessly into a big kid bed, which flies in the face of all expectation and just goes to show you that you get the kid you get, and can’t claim credit for much. In time, I’m sure we’ll have to experiment with new arrangements as the kids form preferences and alliances and a need for privacy, but for now, I couldn’t be happier.

Pippin sneaks upstairs with a roll of Scotch tape and adds his art to his bedside and his sister’s.
The tape stash and his treasure box (i.e. All the weird paper junk he insists on keeping)
Roo’s corner. We obviously still need to move that bookcase but the room was clean so I had to photograph fast.

(And for context, the way the room looked when we moved in:

IMG_6746
Yikes.

 

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Things I Feel Like I Have to Tell You

Ok, so you’ve probably done all these things and you are probably still alive (ghosts, please stop reading this blog), you argue. BUT! Have you ever had a case of food poisoning at the same time as the rest of your family and had to have friends deliver more toilet paper and Gatorade to your house? (Hint: It’s the worst.) Are you at a stage of life where you frequently cook for pregnant or nursing mothers, or adorable but vulnerable small children? Here are some things I feel like I have to tell you. I’m the daughter of a health inspector. I’m sorry in advance.

Slow cooker safety

  • You shouldn’t put things in the slow cooker still frozen. It doesn’t reach safe temperatures quickly enough. I’m sorry. I didn’t know for a long time, either.
  • You shouldn’t leave the leftovers in the insert and put it in the fridge. It doesn’t cool down to safe temperatures quickly enough. This sucks. I agree.
  • If you forget to turn on your slow cooker for an hour or more, you have to throw the stuff out. Go ahead and cry. I just lost some pesto chicken and I’m still mad about it.

Learn more depressing slow cooker safety facts from the USDA and University of Minnesota Extension.

Meat thawing safety

  • Leaving things out to thaw. Don’t do this!!! Let the National Center for Home Preservation school you on safe methods so you can live long and prosper! My speciality is the 30 minute cold water bath, but you may find a different way that works.

 

What rules do you feel compelled to tell people, or worry about in secret? I have a friend who asked me how often I changed my dish towel if I also used it for hand drying and…I have no idea? But I guess that’s gross?

What are your personal food-related terrors? Stinky sponges? Years-expired salad dressing? Chicken snugglers?

 

Embracing the Robot Symphony

So, what’s in your robot fleet these days? For us, I’d count the bread machine, slow cooker, washer and dryer, dishwasher and now Roomba.*

Do we come out ahead with these innovations? Wendell Berry and co. would argue we lose skill and dignity in outsourcing these jobs, but I’m not sure I agree.

If you use these time savers judiciously, I think you can come out ahead. To be the conductor is not to be unskilled, and you can use that time in pursuing other skills (versus, say, zoning out on TV or Facebook). There is, after all, a place both for making and faking in most of our lives. If you use your robot symphony to free up time for your children or projects, sure (hey, blog). If you use them in ways that still allow for creativity, absolutely (bread machine recipes). If you use them wisely but won’t crowbar all jobs into their domain (as when, once a year, I handwash the wool things with much fear and trembling), then yeah, I think you’re coming out ahead.

The only real danger here, I think, is becoming a slave to privilege so that you find yourself complaining of injustice when your robot fleet is no longer at your disposal. I’ve hand washed my clothes, in Uganda and on a hiking trip and, perhaps insanely, as an adventure in frugality in grad school. I’ve lived without a microwave and understand an oven. I don’t tend to complain on vacation when I leave behind my favorite time savers. (Except a washing machine. I have two kids under five and I’m never going back.)

The other danger, then, is using these devices to ratchet up the pressure. Now that I have a robot vacuum cleaner, I have no excuse not to always have spotless floors! Now that I know my way around a bread machine, there’s no excuse not to have fresh bread all the time! No: there will definitely still be days and weeks when these jobs, even outsourced, fail to get done, sacrificed to more important tasks of the moment or season.

The robot symphony still requires time and effort and know how, even if it does mercifully save my third trimester back a lot of work. But bring on the robot revolution!


* PS- I am still afraid of the Amazon Echo and my Instant Pot. Help. 

Making It, Faking It

What do you find worthwhile to make and what would you rather buy? Let’s compare notes:

Make:

  • Stock: I like to roast a chicken whole in the slow cooker and then toss a carcass or two back in to cook on low overnight. Easy peasy.
  • Fancy bread (mostly ciabatta, 90% of the time): I will occasionally buy stuff, especially at the farmer’s market, but Pip eats almost nothing I make myself except ciabatta, so that’s a pretty strong incentive.
  • Iced tea: This is new, but J’s gotten into unsweet tea in a big way, and it’s sooooo much cheaper than buying bottles and then I don’t have to lug the bottles inside with my wimpy pregnant upper body (non)strength.
  • Pizza crust: It took awhile for me to find a bread machine recipe for the dough that I loved, but now I’m never going back.
  • Cookies, brownies, cake: I am not against a box cake (ok, I love box cake), but I recently suggested we make one and Pip was genuinely perplexed, and I realized maybe I’m doing some small part of this real foods thing right with him, even if he mostly subsists on fruit and Goldfish. He loves to bake, so I bake, and sometimes, he even eats it.
  • Cream of chicken soup: Use that stock!
  • Biscuits: These are one of the few things I can make now that are honestly my favorite way to eat them. Not that they’re objectively the world’s best biscuits, just that they’re exactly the way I like them. Do you have anything like that for you?
  • Granola: I like to mix it into my (storebought! for shame!) Greek yogurt.

Buy:

  • Bagels, sandwich bread: although I just ran across a recipe for bagel dough in the bread machine, and my brother-in-law made some beautiful bagels…
  • Pie crust: My mom makes terrific pie crust and I struggle to even work with frozen crust.
  • Pumpkin purée: Martha Stewart says this is OK.
  • Ice cream (90% of the time): It gets rock salt everywhere to make it!!
  • Pasta sauce (90% of the time): The only time I’ve routinely made it is when we’ve had a CSA, and that hasn’t been since Pip was born. Might be worth resurrecting, though, because I love the fresh taste when you puree it a bit and don’t cook it forever.
  • Yogurt: Trying to gather the discipline to do this again, because I have a yogurt maker and it saves a ton of money, but it’s so tedious.
  • Canned beans (vs cooking from dry): Why can I not make normal beans? This is supposed to be easy!!

I could list thousands of others, especially if I spent a little time looking at DIY tags on Instagram (no, I don’t make my own pickles!). Things are always in flux, of course, based on where we are in the life of our family. Sometimes it’s a struggle to make toast for the kids when I’m really morning sick, and sometimes, when the baby’s pretty old and I’m not pregnant yet and everyone’s napping reliably, I can really branch out and take on new skills and recipes.

What are your make-from-scratch priorities?

Granola for our mailperson last Christmas

Being Cool About a Reno

We have only been homeowners a little over a year and have only had a grownup salary for two years, so we still find it hard to spend even an unnecessary $100 on a rug for which we have no pressing need. So we might have limped along with lame white (!!!) laminate counters for quite awhile if not for MOLD.

Mold. Also, dirty dishes.

Our house was built in 1940 and I think the cabinets are original. They are beautiful, but mean we have a weirdly narrow counter, which, paired with no backsplash, means the back wall gets soaked. So, mold.

Are you bored yet? I don’t blame you.

We discovered the problem early in my morning sickness but didn’t mobilize till late first trimester because I am not a glutton for punishment or crying in the countertop swatch section of Home Depot.

Instead I just read about countertop materials and sinks and cried from the comfort of my own bed.

 

Be thou my vision. AND NO I DO NOT HAVE ATTRIBUTION I AM A BAD LIBRARIAN!!!

 

 

 

And after all, I would kind of recommend making renovations after two months of fairly crippling illness. Otherwise, I might have chosen soapstone instead of imitation soapstone quartz, because sure I’ve got time and energy to oil my counters (and move all the kitchen detritus off them each time). I definitely would have chosen the period appropriate and on trend cast iron sink, possibility of chipping be damned. I would have gone apron front even though there are well-documented drawbacks. I would have gotten mad that the first sink we ordered didn’t fit and maybe fussed at the sales rep, instead of taking a nap and going back to the drawing board.

As it is, you have a really reasonable idea of what your ambition/cleanliness level is after limping by for weeks. And so I made practical decisions for what I hope is my forever kitchen. Because in the life of a family, this probably isn’t the last time we will lack the time and energy for extra kitchen upkeep.

And at the very least, we won’t have white laminate anymore.

Easy solution: Keep counters tidy by removing them! (Mid-reno. Will post an update when they actually get around to installing.)

A Mother’s Rule of Life

I’ve asked it before: How do you decide what of all possible things to go deep in, when, as a stay-at-home mother, you’re a jack of all trades?

It would help to have a job description. As it is, I almost always have the nagging conviction I should be doing something other than whatever I’m doing at that moment. Last winter I read the Rule of St. Benedict and this winter I fell in love with the cloistered world of In this House of Brede — its quiet peace, and sense of purpose, and hard work, and order.

This reading primed me, I think, for A Mother’s Rule of Lifewhich is a pretty divisive book in my tiny microcosm of Catholic married mothers who are home full-time. Some friends worry it’s a temptation to rigidity; the one who lent it to me found it tolerably helpful in prioritizing; an Insta friend adored it. In it, Holly Pierlot promises to walk you through developing your own Rule, if you happen to find yourself a Catholic married mother at home rather than a nun in a convent.

Pierlot defines a Rule as “a reflection of the aims and mission of vocation,” and much of the book led me to fruitful consideration, as I followed her advice and took notes. Eventually I decided this: Our aim, as a family, as a household, is to progress in kindness and holiness through love of God, love of each other, and love of learning. From there, you take the tasks you believe are most essential to your vocation, prioritize them, and slot them into a schedule. If you were a Brede nun, it would involve singing the liturgy, working at your talent (translation or writing or gardening), common labor, prayer. For me, in this stage, it involves less liturgical singing and more laundry.

If my aim is to progress in kindness and holiness, I need to not over schedule, but I do need to keep things clean enough that I don’t flip out on my sweet family. I need to practice discipline so I’m not always fighting fires, but build in time for the seeming non-essentials of learning and reading. I need to take breaks from the fun (the latter) and the challenging (the former) to play with my children, to do nothing much with my husband. If I can just remember that, I feel like the rest will fairly fall into place.

The book has obvious weaknesses. I think it’s ordered badly, so that the rationale for a Rule comes at the very end, instead of as an argument before launching in to the nitty gritty of scheduling errands and drawing up monthly rotations. The writing style also isn’t my cup of tea, but Pierlot does have a knack for crystalizing a lot of the ideas that have been kicking around in my head while bringing in pretty compelling authorities. She also seems to assume the existence of bigger kids to share the load, which is hard when I only have littles, but it does remind me to be on the lookout for places Pip can help — putting away silverware, running the vacuum extension hose thing, which he adores.

I was surprised, reading, to discover just how much of a schedule we’ve already drafted toward, my routine-loving children and me. And writing that schedule down started to show me some gaps where maybe, after all, I could choose to be still, could choose to give to prayer, could choose to use for writing or frivolous reading or napping without guilt. It’s also, unexpectedly, giving me permission to let done be done, helping silence the guilty conviction that there’s always something I should be cleaning, or something noble I should commit to, because there I have, in writing, what my priorities are, and what qualifies as “done.”

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Ethical Groceries Outside the Farmer’s Market


So, everyone knows we should be shopping local. But what about when the farmer’s market is closed, or the grocery budget is tight? Here are some strategies to consider:

  • Closeout grocery stores.

Back in Massachusetts, we had one of these that sold all shelf-stable stuff, mostly organic, often dented or about to expire. It’s where we got almost all of Pippin’s squeezy foods so he could live the infant good life on his parents’ grad school budget. Here in Virginia, there’s a more full-service grocery with lots of baking supplies, an unpredictable stock of fresh and frozen food, and horse-and-buggy parking. To make this kind of shop work best, you really need to either a.) keep completely flexible on your grocery list or b.) shop two stores. I usually opt for the latter.

Another point in favor of closeout grocery stores is that, as with shopping second hand at thrift stores, you’re not directly profiting producer, so (maybe?) you don’t have to worry as much about whether the meat is ethical and the farming sustainable. (Unless you’re really committed to eating organic for health reasons, of course.)

  • Ownership of the grocery store.

Is it locally owned? (Do you care?) Is it Christian? (Do you care?)

  • Employment practices of the grocery store.

Costco is a great place to workWal-Mart, less so. When we lived in Massachusetts, I liked shopping Aldi because the savings were all about shifting the labor to the consumer: you bagged yourself, you rented and returned a cart, etc. It felt better than saddling the employees with the same amount of work for less pay, as some businesses do.

  • Donation practices of the grocery store.

In some places you’ll only have the choice of big box stores and multinational chains, but consider, if you can, whether the grocery store donates its surplus to local food pantries. This may take some digging, but in Massachusetts, where J spent a stint driving the food donation truck, some grocery stores donated and some trashed their surplus. We tried to support places that supported the poor in our community.

What other rules do you apply in grocery shopping?