oh, gizdich! / september 21, 2012
Yesterday we had the pleasure of going apple (and strawberry!) picking with our friends at Gizdich farm in Watsonville. Jack loved the dusty dirt, which is out of the norm for him. He was filthy by the time we got home, but I’m so glad we went.
Did I mention I made Jack’s backpack? I used this pattern from twirlybirdpatterns on Etsy, and for the most part it was fairly straight-forward and easy to do. For a novice-sewer (like me), it took my friend Lindsay and I about four hours to sew. Proud of me, Mom?
Recipe: Vegan Snifferdoodles / september 20, 2012
…because sometimes you just need a little indulgence, right?
Good heavens, friends, these vegan snifferdoodles are disappearing too quickly at my house! They are quick to make, and the recipe only makes 15-18 cookies so you don’t get that guilty feeling. (You know that feeling, right? Where your craving for a cookie or two turns into seven or eight because you made a huge batch and don’t want to be wasteful? Just me? Ahhh.)
Thank you Dreena Burton for the recipe, via her Let Them Eat Vegan cookbook. Minor alterations made by me. These are already soy-free, but if you use spelt flour they are also wheat-free.
3/4 c. + 1 T. sifted spelt flour (I used 1/2 – 3/4 c. all-purpose flour because I didn’t have spelt flour)
1/4 c. + 2 T. oat flour (to make oat flour, grind oatmeal in a food processor until fine)
1/3 c. sugar
1/4 t. ground cinnamon
1/4 t. salt
1 t. baking powder
1/4 t. baking soda
1/4 c. pure maple syrup
2 t. vanilla
3 T. canola oil
coating:
2 t. sugar
1 t. cinnamon
Preheat the oven to 350. Combine the dry ingredients. Stir in the wet ingredients until everything is just incorporated and the dough is formed. Refrigerate for about 5 minutes.
Scoop into balls (1/2 T. each), rolling in the cinnamon-sugar coating before placing on the cookie sheet. Do not flatten the cookies. Bake for 10 minutes.
Remove from the oven (they will dry out if overbaked!) and let cool on the pan for 30 seconds to 1 minute (again, to prevent drying). Transfer to a cooling rack and enjoy!
getting by / september 18, 2012
Have I mentioned the physical aftermath of losing a baby is a beast? No one prepared me for that, for the physical reminders of being babyless.
I was lucky to gain so little (10 pounds) and then lose it all within days of delivering Amelia, but I’ve still got angry red stretch marks. My stomach is still my-uterus-hasn’t-quite-shrunk-completely loose and flabby, like I’m hiding dozens of extra cookies down there. And yet no stranger will ever look at me with forgiving eyes, saying, “She still looks great for just having had a baby“. I’ll tell ya, it sucks.
And over two weeks later my boobs kept relentlessly producing milk as if I had a baby to feed. Don’t they know I buried her tiny body in the ground?!
My bleeding finally stopped just short of a week ago. So last Monday (two weeks post-delivery), with Jack in his footsie pajamas in the stroller, I ran a mile-and-a-half. And then I began to bleed again, another haunting reminder that yes indeed, I’m not quite physically healed.
But no one knows that but me. And I’ll tell ya, it sucks.
But I’ve been getting by.
And it’s that and nothing more; just barely getting by.
Some days I cry more than other days. Some days I just want to be alone, and some days I want to be surrounded by friends.
Some days I just want to eat, and some days I eat hardly anything. Some days I’m up for playing games with Jack on the ground, and some days I resort to turning on a movie for the two of us. Some days I just fall asleep on the couch altogether and hope for the best.
Sometimes, when Jack is asleep and the house is silent, I look at pictures of her. Tears roll down my cheeks, soaking my shirt, until I remember there’s a box of tissues behind the computer monitor. But the tissues, even the ultra-soft ones, don’t really soothe my soul.
I’m scared I’m beginning to forget. It’s been three weeks and it’s hard to truly remember the feel of her tiny body pressed against mine, or how her head rested perfectly in the palm of my hand. I cry because I know we’ll have more babies, but we won’t have another Amelia. And right now, all I want is Amelia.
wife, mother, designer & lover of a juicy novel on a cloudy afternoon
copyright alie jones 2021