Sunday Yum:

My husband and I have fallen, sometime since the birth of our daughter, into the habit of stopping for a "treat" on the way home from Mass.  Sometimes this means a croissant from the local bakery, more often a cup of coffee or a donut from DD.  However, with times tight, etc, we've been trying to tighten our belts just that a little bit further.  So today, instead of stopping, I said I'd make a treat once we got home.  And here it is:  a great treat for a Sunday (quick, easy, and feast-day delicious):

Cream Scones

This recipe (from the Joy of Baking) is great as is, but I do usually tweak it just a little bit.  Since I like my scones sweet, I use 1/3 cup of sugar instead of 1/4.  I also like to add in, when I have them on hand,  about 1/2 cup of chopped dried cranberries and 1/4 cup chopped dark chocolate, and sprinkle the tops with sugar after brushing with cream (before baking).

DD's, and even the local bakery, have nothing on this "treat".  It's the perfect something to accompany a cup of tea, during the luxury of one's toddler's nap.


















A blessed Sabbath rest to all!

A Morning Shortcut

Photo credit to thebittenword.com.

Anyone who knows me well, knows I am not a morning person in the least.  Left to my own devices (this essentially means pre-regular employment, and especially, pre-baby), I naturally don't emerge from the safety of my covers until past 8 am, sometimes even 9 (I make up for it, of course, by staying up till nearly midnight).  These days, though, with a bright-eyed munchkin who doesn't like to waste valuable playtime by staying in bed, I have to greet the day a bit earlier.

That being said, anything that can make my morning a little easier, is a welcome find.  And, lately I've been following a tip from one of my favorite writers on how to simplify breakfast.  Somewhere (Walking on Water?  Circle of Quiet?  I don't actually remember for sure where I saw it) I remembered Madeleine L'Engle talking about starting her day off with Irish oatmeal.  As I recall, she said she'd make a double batch once or twice a week at night, dish it into bowls, and put it in the fridge; microwaved with a splash of buttermilk, it made a healthy and delicious breakfast.

Not actually knowing what Irish oatmeal was, at the time (I assumed it was basically just regular oatmeal), I stored this tidbit of information away and didn't think much about it.  But as I was recently re-reading Troubling a Star for the several-hundredth time, Vicky's repeated references to oatmeal piqued my interest, and made me look into this stuff further.  So I did some research, discovered that it's not quite the same thing as your typical Quaker rolled oats (the oats are cut, not rolled, and the finished product has more of a chewy, nutty texture, along with the creamy oatmeal consistency - like a cross between tapioca pudding and oatmeal, sort of), and also that steel cut oats are pretty healthy for you.  Also, there aren't any crazy additives when you make it yourself in this fashion.

So that's what I've been doing lately.  I make a double batch twice a week, and pour it into about four bowls.  I then cover it with tinfoil, refrigerate, and each morning I pull out breakfast, almost ready to go.  Usually a splash of cream, a drizzle of maple syrup, and a sprinkle of dried cranberries is enough to really put my day off on the right start, but the possibilities are pretty endless; this last weekend, when we went out to breakfast for my husband's birthday, I actually tried "crispy steel cut oatmeal", which is a pan-fried, somewhat more savory version, and it was pretty good as well.

Regardless, it's quick, it's easy, it's basically mindless, but also really nutritious.  I can feel good about eating it myself, and giving some to my toddler as well (who actually really likes it).  So thanks, Madeleine, for the great suggestion.  It's not the first or the last thing I have to thank you for, if ever we meet "upon the other shore."

Using Time: Opportunism versus Intentionality

Finally a free moment to check in, say hi, and share something I've been pondering a lot lately.  Sorry it's been awhile - the holidays were hectic, getting back into a routine afterwards was a hassle, and now here I am, in the middle of January, in the middle of a snowstorm, and finally able to spare a few minutes to write.

Our Christmas was lovely and blessed, and despite being a whirlwind of activity, it was good to connect with family.  We were blessed with some really lovely gifts, as well, which are already being put to good use (like a KitchenAid stand mixer.  I didn't have a mixer, and wow is it so much easier to bake now!)

One of those gifts was the book Simplicity Parenting, which has prompted the subject of the pondering in question, at least tangentially.  I've got an upcoming post at Catholic Mothers Online where I'll talk more about the various ways in which the book is inspiring me to re-assess and re-balance our life, but in the meantime, I just thought I'd share how thinking about one very specific thing - mealtime - is helping me gain perspective on lots of different areas of my life.

In our home, mealtime has been sort of a haphazard affair.  I do plan meals, and shop for those meals, every week.  But the actual time always ends up in the air.  I haven't even had the excuse of busy evenings or conflicting family schedules to blame.  What it really comes down to is that I've been starting dinner only when I finally think of it, when a good opportunity seems to present itself, and when I am sufficiently motivated to shift my attention from whatever is currently occupying it.  Sometimes this has meant dinner at 6, but much more often 7:30 has been rolling around with an "uh oh, I'd better hurry up and make something."  This lack of attention to a schedule leads to a train wreck: LW isn't ready for bed until after 8, I try and cram in a very hurried pre-LW bedtime shower for myself, and each night it has seemed like her bedtime has been seriously delayed.  Night after night I go through the mad dash of making dinner, dinner cleanup, and the bedtime routine, and night after night I feel totally burnt out by the end of it.

Then I read Simplicity Parenting over my Christmas vacation, and the proverbial light bulb went off in my head.  I starting thinking about the importance of setting a "framework" around our day; of giving LW a sense of routine and consistency to hang onto.  I didn't think so much about the effect it would have on me, but rather sort of stumbled onto just plain setting a mealtime.  As it turned out, the first day I tried it, I decided I'd shoot for 6 "just because".  This meant I started cooking at least an hour earlier than I had been, which seemed like a bit of a hassle, not to mention a sacrifice of some prime recharge time, since I often don't wrap up my part-time job until 4:30, and don't always feel like launching right into making dinner.  But I did it anyway - and to my surprise, magic happened.  I made dinner, we ate dinner, LW ate much better than usual because she wasn't super tired, we had time to linger over the meal, we cleaned up the meal... and all before 7 pm.  At 7, I was able to curl up on the couch with a book, my husband similarly curled up with the computer, and LW happily scampered around the living room playing.  What I discovered is that, with dinner out of the way earlier, there is a happy hour before bedtime.  LW will play independently, or my husband will get down and play with her, and there is actual time to enjoy the evening; no one is hungry, there's no time crunch or pressure.  By sacrificing the earlier time, I actually end up with a better chance for recharge time than I was getting before.  And, as the days go by, I'm modifying things further so that pajamas and tooth brushing happens right after dinner, to further facilitate a quick transition to bedtime mode when the time arrives.

Now, I know this is probably a no-brainer to those of you who already think to have set times for these sorts of things.  And you're probably also wondering how dinnertime might apply to the rest of one's life.  Here's the thing:  I realized I have a very opportunistic attitude towards a lot of things: playing with my daughter, enjoying a recharge moment, dinner, bath time, bedtime, and especially, prayer.  Because I don't approach any of these things with intentionality, they happen more sporadically and irregularly than they ought.  I'm not saying that everything has to happen on a set schedule, but that I'm realizing there is a real value to planning a time and sticking to it.  It's sort of like how church was for me, growing up.  Going to church on Sunday was a non-negotiable item of the week.  We didn't wake up on Sunday morning and try to decide, spur-of-the-moment-style, whether we felt like going this week or not.  It was what we did, and we worked other things around it.  We still operate on the same principle, although being Catholic, and living in an area with at least 15 parishes within 15-20 minutes driving distance means that sometimes we can plan Mass time around other things (like nap time).  But we're very intentional in that it happens every week.

Thus, I'm wondering if, by applying this principle to other things, like prayer, I might not be able to find the time that I didn't think I had.  I'm starting small - with a big fridge calendar, setting times for the basics (mealtime, bedtime, recharge time, and soon, prayer time).  We'll see where it goes from there.  I know being flexible and opportunistic has some great advantages as well: when you have a small baby, life has to be very flexible, and everyone benefits from really going with the flow of what baby needs at any given moment.  Even with a toddler, it's still important to be able to be flexible, and to grab learning and play opportunities whenever they pop up.  But I'm beginning to see that it's also really important to cultivate intentionality, especially in those areas of life, like relationships (with God, my husband, my child, with family and friends) where things just won't happen if they aren't intentional.

Here's to living life intentionally in 2011!

Photo credit to Martin Pettitt.