1. Old habits die hard. I had a kettle of Syrian tea on the stove for five minutes and wondered why it wasn't getting hot. Then I remembered. My stove has been broken. For a week.
2. Quirks that come with a rented house sometimes become blessings. Like an extra stove in the spare bedroom upstairs, for example. We've had the oddest guest room ever, but now I'm glad for the stove!
3. Telling guests that instead of having "breakfast in bed" they can make breakfast from their bed is no longer a funny joke. It has now become painfully too close to home. We turned down the option of having guests for the weekend because the stove is in their room. Who wants to knock on the guests' room door to ask, "Excuse me, can you turn the oven to 350 for me? I'll hand you the breakfast casserole when the stove is preheated and then do you mind bringing it down when it is done?"
4. Cooking upstairs when your fully stocked kitchen is downstairs means you get lots of exercise. Not that I don't need it. But whoever thinks of cooking as a cardio workout?
5. The children have excellent appetites for supper because they have trailed me upstairs and down for the duration of the cooking process. Exercise becoming a family affair isn't a bad thing, now is it?
6. Maybe I should patent the idea as a weight loss program. Hey, I might be on the verge of something good! Maybe this is my million dollar discovery for the day. I could write a book on it titled The Cardio Kitchen or Cooking Upstairs to Slim Your Downstairs. ? Or, maybe not.
7. You make more trips to and from your stove when you cook than you probably realize. Try running up and down a flight of stairs any time you want to check your food or stir anything or turn on your oven or check to see if the oven has preheated. Or try getting to the stove only to realize you needed a spoon or a hot pad which is now an entire flight of stairs away from you.
8. Prayer becomes a natural part of the cooking process. "God, please don't let me trip on the stairs with this kettle of boiling soup!" (For your info, the children are banned from the stairs when I'm carrying hot food!)
9. I've finally learned what that obnoxious whistle on the kettle lid is saying. I know. It says the contents are boiling. But what it actually is saying is "MOM!!" in kettle language. It hollers from upstairs and I dash up the steps two at a time to rescue it.
10. There are Dewdrops of Joy even in a broken stove. I get to look out the upstairs guest room window while I wait for my food to cook which means there is a whole new view of the world to enjoy.
Sunday, October 26, 2014
Monday, October 20, 2014
A Taste of Japan
Late this summer we hosted a Japanese student in our home for one delightful week. One of the perks of that, we learned, was when Nana was leaving and needed to offload some Japanese items in order to make space in her suitcases for the many purchases she made in America. I sat on the edge of her bed while she explained a pile of food items to me in her extremely limited English (everything, both item description and recipe preparations, were written in Japanese on the products; I'm still not sure I made the pudding stuff correctly.). Apparently either she or her mother was afraid that she would starve while she was here and packed accordingly.
So for a couple of months now, I've had ready-to-go rice, papers of seaweed, a boxed curry, a pudding-like dessert mix, rice pilaf of sorts, and Japanese candy in my pantry. Plus, after Nana returned to Japan, we received a large box in the mail from her which included Japanese snacks and a little outfit for each of the children.
I thought about trying my hand at making sushi to use the seaweed in my pantry, but I don't know what I'm doing and it appears that my seaweed papers are the wrong size for sushi. Any {delicious} ideas on what to do with seaweed papers that are 2.5"x 7"? Leave me a comment with your suggestions.
I think we might have learned our lesson, and for this Japanese meal, we spoke only English.
A few months ago we were having a Chinese meal and got into this thing of speaking "Chinese". Only no sane Chinese person would have recognized anything we said. For example, one of us needed a napkin, held up a soiled hand, and said something like, "A wing foo chi?" And the person closest to the napkins handed one over. We had grand fun "talking in Chinese" until the meal ended.
And then Nana came.
There she sat, sweetly and politely like any well-bred Japanese girl would.
My son was eyeing her.
Apparently his wheels were turning and before I could say "wing foo" he was speaking to her in our variation of "Chinese"!
For some odd reason, Nana didn't seem to understand a thing he said.
Maybe his accent was poor?
Or maybe she only spoke Japanese?
Nana looked questioningly in my direction, silently asking for help in understanding what he said.
I managed to change the conversation; John subtly gave Tyler one of those wonderful parental "looks" which stopped him from practicing his Chinese any further, and a potentially embarrassing situation was diverted.
Okay. So maybe we would do well to save our "Chinese" until the children are older and less apt to try it out on someone who looks like they might be from the Orient.
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| With Nana at her graduation from an English class -- no, John is not sleepwalking |
So for a couple of months now, I've had ready-to-go rice, papers of seaweed, a boxed curry, a pudding-like dessert mix, rice pilaf of sorts, and Japanese candy in my pantry. Plus, after Nana returned to Japan, we received a large box in the mail from her which included Japanese snacks and a little outfit for each of the children.
I wanted to make a Japanese meal, so I looked online for recipes and ended up making "Soboro Don" --Japanese chicken and eggs served over rice. Delicious!
 |
| Trying out chopsticks--a hostess gift from Nana |
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| Does he look Oriental?? |
A few months ago we were having a Chinese meal and got into this thing of speaking "Chinese". Only no sane Chinese person would have recognized anything we said. For example, one of us needed a napkin, held up a soiled hand, and said something like, "A wing foo chi?" And the person closest to the napkins handed one over. We had grand fun "talking in Chinese" until the meal ended.
And then Nana came.
There she sat, sweetly and politely like any well-bred Japanese girl would.
My son was eyeing her.
Apparently his wheels were turning and before I could say "wing foo" he was speaking to her in our variation of "Chinese"!
For some odd reason, Nana didn't seem to understand a thing he said.
Maybe his accent was poor?
Or maybe she only spoke Japanese?
Nana looked questioningly in my direction, silently asking for help in understanding what he said.
I managed to change the conversation; John subtly gave Tyler one of those wonderful parental "looks" which stopped him from practicing his Chinese any further, and a potentially embarrassing situation was diverted.
Okay. So maybe we would do well to save our "Chinese" until the children are older and less apt to try it out on someone who looks like they might be from the Orient.
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
"Remember the Poor"
Jesus said that we'll always have the poor with us. Sometimes, especially during the abundance of harvest/canning season in rural America, the poor can be pretty far from our minds. John and I have chosen, then, to occasionally remember the poor on purpose.
Here are some ways we found to remember the poor:
1. We make a meal from a country that has poor folk. The first that came to mind was India. According to Operation World, 40% of the population lives below the poverty line. (Below the poverty line in India means the head of home earns less than $1.25 per day, according to Wikipedia.)
For our "Remember the Poor" meal, I made curry and rice. Especially after reading stories of the truly poor, I realized that my simple curry was a rich man's meal (the truly poor don't split a pound of meat between only four people). But for us, curry reminds us of India, and in this case, the poor in India. Tyler likes to eat with his fingers when we have a meal like this, which, for him, is a great way to keep the poor in mind. ("Some boys have no spoons!").
2. We pray for the poor. Tyler prayed the blessing on the meal and was encouraged to pray for the poor children as well : "Dear Lord Jesus, Thank You for our food. And please can You give food to the little boys and girls who have hungry bellies? In Jesus' Name, Amen." When supper was nearly finished, he said, "Did Jesus give the poor children food? I prayed that He would." Oh for the faith of a child!
3. We read stories about poverty-stricken people. I looked up stories of the poor in India and stumbled across a blog (check it out: Stories on Poverty in India) that has heart-wrenching stories of people who not only live in extreme poverty, but have no hope in Christ to redeem the sadness of their lives. No redemptive future to assuage the pain of this life? My stomach knotted up.
4. We look at their pictures and read facts surrounding them. We found a slideshow on poverty (several, in fact, including this one). The facts are staggering (i.e. According to Unicef, 22,000 children die every day from poverty). After seeing pictures of children with their entire rib-cage obvious, our son was full of questions. The knot in my stomach tightened.
5. We read stories to our children and discuss the poor with them. Another great tool to discuss the poor with young children is a little book printed by Christian Aid Ministries called Red, Yellow, Black & White by Dwayne & Lois Stoltzfus. Tyler nearly knows it by heart now, but will bring it around to discuss the poor again, to ask questions about the children with no mommy and daddy, and to talk about children with no food. It offers the opportunity not only to tell him about the poor but to instill the truth that no matter what happens, God will be there with you.
6. We give to the poor. These 'Remember the Poor' meals are also the perfect time to give financially to the poor. Ever feel inclined to go out to eat? Make a simple rice meal at home instead, pray for the poor, and donate the money saved.
"I was an hungred, and you gave me meat; I was thirsty and ye gave me drink... naked, and ye clothed me." Matthew 25:35,36
Here are some ways we found to remember the poor:
1. We make a meal from a country that has poor folk. The first that came to mind was India. According to Operation World, 40% of the population lives below the poverty line. (Below the poverty line in India means the head of home earns less than $1.25 per day, according to Wikipedia.)
For our "Remember the Poor" meal, I made curry and rice. Especially after reading stories of the truly poor, I realized that my simple curry was a rich man's meal (the truly poor don't split a pound of meat between only four people). But for us, curry reminds us of India, and in this case, the poor in India. Tyler likes to eat with his fingers when we have a meal like this, which, for him, is a great way to keep the poor in mind. ("Some boys have no spoons!").2. We pray for the poor. Tyler prayed the blessing on the meal and was encouraged to pray for the poor children as well : "Dear Lord Jesus, Thank You for our food. And please can You give food to the little boys and girls who have hungry bellies? In Jesus' Name, Amen." When supper was nearly finished, he said, "Did Jesus give the poor children food? I prayed that He would." Oh for the faith of a child!
3. We read stories about poverty-stricken people. I looked up stories of the poor in India and stumbled across a blog (check it out: Stories on Poverty in India) that has heart-wrenching stories of people who not only live in extreme poverty, but have no hope in Christ to redeem the sadness of their lives. No redemptive future to assuage the pain of this life? My stomach knotted up.
4. We look at their pictures and read facts surrounding them. We found a slideshow on poverty (several, in fact, including this one). The facts are staggering (i.e. According to Unicef, 22,000 children die every day from poverty). After seeing pictures of children with their entire rib-cage obvious, our son was full of questions. The knot in my stomach tightened.
5. We read stories to our children and discuss the poor with them. Another great tool to discuss the poor with young children is a little book printed by Christian Aid Ministries called Red, Yellow, Black & White by Dwayne & Lois Stoltzfus. Tyler nearly knows it by heart now, but will bring it around to discuss the poor again, to ask questions about the children with no mommy and daddy, and to talk about children with no food. It offers the opportunity not only to tell him about the poor but to instill the truth that no matter what happens, God will be there with you. 6. We give to the poor. These 'Remember the Poor' meals are also the perfect time to give financially to the poor. Ever feel inclined to go out to eat? Make a simple rice meal at home instead, pray for the poor, and donate the money saved.
"I was an hungred, and you gave me meat; I was thirsty and ye gave me drink... naked, and ye clothed me." Matthew 25:35,36
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
Things every child should avoid saying (or doing) while being potty trained--
unless, of course, they love sitting on their potty chair:
- "Puddle!"
- "It's coming out!" (After she was on the potty, I realized she was referring to the clip in her hair. Sorry, girl. We're not in the position to take chances right now.)
- "On a belly!" (Only, to my potty-training oriented brain, it sounded like "on a potty" which is exactly where she was headed until her big brother did her the great favor of translating the phrase. "No, she's swimming. She said she's on her belly." Got saved that time.)
- Cry or shriek. Because any time she cries or screeches about anything, whether legitimately or in play, it gets interpreted as a mishap waiting to happen and she gets whisked to the potty.
- Walk stiff-legged. Self incriminating when you are in this stage of life. Best to save duck impersonations until after the panic of potty-training has faded into a thing of the past.
- Look startled. Also self incriminating.
You know you've been potty training all week when walking onto carpet feels like you've gone on vacation.
Friday, October 3, 2014
You know you are potty training when...
...your normal life ends and a bizarre one begins which revolves around body functions and potty chairs.
...your child's normal life is also archived. She is now living hers on the potty.
...your newest, latest home improvement is a potty chair in the kitchen.
...you can recognize a duck-like waddle from a block away.
...your toddler can't walk into another room or onto carpet without you panicking and asking if she has to go potty.
...you treat any drop of water on the floor like hazmat just in case it actually is.
....your most spoken words for the week are "Do you need to go potty?" And you know instinctively that her response will be, "No, not now." And she's right, of course. What she really meant was she would have to go one minute from now and it would be done on a carpeted area.
...she stands up for you to check the potty for any kind of success and you find a button and a pencil but (fortunately) nothing you were looking for.
...a tired mother's rationale sets in on day two when things aren't as advanced as you hoped: "You know, she looks pretty little sitting there. Maybe I should wait until she's older to do this. After all, we are going on a trip in six months and I'd hate to travel with a baby 'newly' potty-trained!"
...you coax more liquids into her little water-logged belly in a morning than she drinks in an average two day period.
...two hours after you finally get all that liquid into her, you end up washing half of it off your kitchen floor and cheering wildly when the other half is deposited in the potty.
...after handing out a single, miniature MnM to reward even the smallest of successes, you realize your dentist is probably sitting in an executive office right now, researching island escape options. Brilliance finally dawns and tactics change. Craisins sound good, Sweetie?
...you subject your family to texts like this one: "She woke up dry at 8:30 and went like crazy in the potty!! :) Mommy is ecstatic!"
...your toddler learns that potties are mobile if you scooch them just right. Our little lady inched her potty half way across the kitchen floor so she could get the toy she wanted. But don't worry. She and her unusual transportation motored back to their starting point when she had what she was looking for. And she never stood up once.
...evening finds you holding yourself at arms' length and threatening to shower in Pine-Sol saying, "I've emptied so many potties, wiped so many little behinds, cleaned up so many puddles, and taken care of so many spooky undies that I feel contaminated."
...a day is considered a success if, at its close, there are more clean undies than wet ones piled in the laundry room.
...your child's normal life is also archived. She is now living hers on the potty.
...your newest, latest home improvement is a potty chair in the kitchen.
...you can recognize a duck-like waddle from a block away.
...your toddler can't walk into another room or onto carpet without you panicking and asking if she has to go potty.
...you treat any drop of water on the floor like hazmat just in case it actually is.
....your most spoken words for the week are "Do you need to go potty?" And you know instinctively that her response will be, "No, not now." And she's right, of course. What she really meant was she would have to go one minute from now and it would be done on a carpeted area.
...she stands up for you to check the potty for any kind of success and you find a button and a pencil but (fortunately) nothing you were looking for.
...a tired mother's rationale sets in on day two when things aren't as advanced as you hoped: "You know, she looks pretty little sitting there. Maybe I should wait until she's older to do this. After all, we are going on a trip in six months and I'd hate to travel with a baby 'newly' potty-trained!"
...you coax more liquids into her little water-logged belly in a morning than she drinks in an average two day period.
...two hours after you finally get all that liquid into her, you end up washing half of it off your kitchen floor and cheering wildly when the other half is deposited in the potty.
...after handing out a single, miniature MnM to reward even the smallest of successes, you realize your dentist is probably sitting in an executive office right now, researching island escape options. Brilliance finally dawns and tactics change. Craisins sound good, Sweetie?
...you subject your family to texts like this one: "She woke up dry at 8:30 and went like crazy in the potty!! :) Mommy is ecstatic!"
...your toddler learns that potties are mobile if you scooch them just right. Our little lady inched her potty half way across the kitchen floor so she could get the toy she wanted. But don't worry. She and her unusual transportation motored back to their starting point when she had what she was looking for. And she never stood up once.
 |
| Little Charmer |
...evening finds you holding yourself at arms' length and threatening to shower in Pine-Sol saying, "I've emptied so many potties, wiped so many little behinds, cleaned up so many puddles, and taken care of so many spooky undies that I feel contaminated."
...a day is considered a success if, at its close, there are more clean undies than wet ones piled in the laundry room.
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