The LMITCTPFAHM Half-Marathon Experience

I did it!!!!!!!!!!! Pushing my kid!!!!!!!!! 14 minutes faster than I thought I would!!!!!!!!!!!!

And it is over!

Race Day SWAG

The First Annual 'Lauren Maleski I'm too Cheap to Pay for a Half Marathon Half Marathon" is over.  This past Saturday me (and Maddox), Hot Papa, and four other guys hit the pavement at 7:30 AM and ran our hodge podge half-marathon.  We even had a water table set up at the 5 mile mark thanks to some forward thinking on the part of one of the runners.  Having a water table with a homemade sign that reads "water for the half-marathon"placed in someone's front yard kind of makes us a big deal.

I made goodie bags and quasi-medals for all participants and even included a turtle figurine for the slowest runner.  I coined it "the slow poke" award.  I picked a real cute wooden turtle for this because I knew I was going to be the winner of said award and I liked it.  I also made t-shirts.  Nothing says I'm a runner and you should know it like a race t-shirt.  You know those people who seem to have endless supplies of race t-shirts?  They kind of annoy me.  It's like saying, "yep, I got up at the butt crack of dawn to go be awesome while you slept and then ate pancakes."  The shirts I made are totally tacky and with a side of white trash.  I don't know that anyone will ever wear those but that's not the point.  I was trying to be official with absolutely no budget.  So get of my back!

I've been training for this stupid run since November of last year.  I had to take a hiatus in March with the flare up of my unwelcome yet perpetually invited old friend Anorexia.  Initially, we were going to do this in April but I couldn't.  I had to exercise other parts of myself during that period and part of that was letting go of training until I could do it in a healthy way.  I think that's the biggest victory for me in all this.  I maintained a healthy weight and only dropped a couple of pounds the last week.  That wasn't on purpose.  All that running just catches up to you.  That evening I had a huge dinner and drank 3 glasses of wine and then filled up on leftover crappy Halloween candy.  IT WAS AWESOME!!

I wish I could tell you I had some sort of revelation during the run...but I didn't.  I remember thinking around mile 10 that this isn't so bad.  Immediately followed by the thought that I know this feeling isn't going to last.  I'm going to hate this again at mile 12.  I kind of did hate it again but then I knew I had only 1.1 miles to go and that's nothing.  After a few days of reflection, here's what I can say about the experience:

1. I'm glad I did it
2. I'm also glad it's over
3. I think I want to run 15 miles
4. I know I DON'T want to run 26.2
5. I'm incredibly thankful for a child who likes the jogging stroller
6. I'm super blessed to have a husband who caters to my whims and joins in
7. I'm also super blessed to have the Smiths!  You should know Jared and Sarah.
8. Mind games are what got me through
9. I am goal oriented (aka, I don't know what to do with myself at the gym now)
10. If I put as much time into my spiritual walk as I did running...
11. I detest feeling hungry and don't like to feed myself (aka, I have to be counterintuitive in order to successfully train for long distances and THAT's OKAY)
12. I like making awards
13. I really like bluegrass music for the first 7 miles and then booty music for the rest
14. Gina, Curt, and Sharon should have totally been there
15. Living in FL has it's advantages:  flat roads, good folks, cooler mornings
16. I really like November
17. Moleskin works! 
18. I'm super proud of my nasty callused toes  
19. There's absolutely no reason to pay money to run
20. I should have taken before and after pictures but by the time I was done I just didn't care
21. Why do people always look cute in their after pictures?  I looked like crap.

All in all it was a good day.  

No More Hiding

Not me...but my new haircut

So I chopped my hair again.  Imagine my face on this hair cut and that's pretty much what you got.  I'm not great at posting pictures of myself alone so you'll just have to use your imaginations.  I believe in you.

My immaculate hairdresser, Dianne Smith, does superb work.  I literally visit her twice a month because I keep changing my mind about what I want to do with my hair.  I take her tons of pictures and somehow she comes up with exactly what I want.  I love that!!! I love having someone I trust.  I never understood the hairdresser relationship until I found someone who I never want to lose.

A couple of months ago I decided that it was time for a change.  I had already gotten another tattoo and facial piercings are out of the question because Hot Papa is a little too conservative for that.  Hey, I married him and I knew that, so I'm down.  I digress, I decided that perhaps the change I needed had to do with my head.  Double entendre anyone?  Those of you who read this know that I've been on a journey this year.  A journey into motherhood, a journey into selflessness and out of selfishness, and a journey into becoming who I believe I was created to be.  I am learning to hide no more. 

Stay with me, my hair totally applies.

I've always clung to my hair.  It's usually long and, honestly, I've got good hair.  It is pretty and full and vibrant.  And I have come to realize it is a crutch for me.  You see, I struggle with my own self-image, like you couldn't figure that out on your own.  When I didn't feel thin enough or feminine enough I always had my hair and for some reason that made me feel better.  If I wasn't rail thin or sexy at least I had pretty hair...that's something, right?  Somehow my long hair covered the fact that I have absolutely no boobs and don't always feel like a girl...too much information?  

I stared with a drastic chop.  My 10 inch ponytail was unceremoniously lopped off and the moment I felt the release it was like a load was taken off.  Added bonus:  My new hair was super cute.  I stayed with it for a couple of months and then, last week, figured, "My hair hasn't been this short in like 20 years.  Why not just go for the big chop and see what happens."  So I did.

I love the freedom of my new do but I still don't quite know who I'm looking at in the mirror.  I've never used anything other than good ole shampoo and conditioner so this whole product thing confuses the crap out of me.  There's pomade, there's wax, there's gel, there's gunk and each type has a whole subset of varieties.  It overwhelms me so for now I'm rocking the puffy all natural look.

I'm glad I did this.  I'm glad that I now know I can survive without my hair and that who I am isn't and shouldn't be wrapped up in the fuzz that resides on my head.  I know this isn't changing the world but I think this little experiment is changing me.

I Decided Something

...that's what I decided.  "Jamaica, no problem."  No, I'm not going to Jamaica to avoid making a decision but I am going to adopt the phrase and apply it to my current situation.

I'm going to do the best I can and then say, "Jamaica, no problem." Because that's all I can do really.  I can try my best and then the rest is up to someone else.  If I know that I have done that then I do not have to be in knots anymore.

Thanks Straub family for the adorable onsie that you bought my son when you went on your cruise that has this saying.  I'd forgotten about it until this afternoon (because my son is HUGE and can't wear it anymore).

Indecisive Undecider

Somebody Just Tell Me What To Do

I am terribly, horribly, magnificently indecisive.  I just want someone to tell me what to do.  Seriously, I'm great at following rules.  Just tell me what I should do, I'll do it, and we can all move on with our lives

...yeah right

I wish the above statement were true.  To me it just sounds like a whole bunch of justification.  It's like saying, "I'm so whimsy.  I don't make decisions because they crush my spirit and my spirit needs to be free to float into whatever realm...blah, blah, blah."

Indecision makes me feel like this.

Rather, indecision makes me feel crazy.  It makes my stomach hurt.  It makes me question everything.  I think the real reason I don't like to make decisions is because once I do I am responsible for them.  Come what may I chose that path.  I don't like that one bit.  I don't want to be blamed for choosing the wrong thing.  Naturally, I want praise for when I choose the better way.  Because I am prideful.  Because I want to be right.  Because I want people to think I'm smart.  If I decide something and it turns out to be the lesser of the choices available to me and there are repercussions, I want to point my fingers to someone or something else.  I DON'T WANT TO BE RESPONSIBLE FOR ANYTHING THAT DOESN'T FEEL GOOD.  There, I said it.  I don't want to be the reason someone is sad.  I don't want to be the reason someone is annoyed.  I don't want to be the reason someone gets angry.  I don't want to cause pain of any kind whatsoever to anyone else.  So I don't decide.

Then I melt and get tired and take a nap.

And that doesn't change anything.

I suppose it is time to be a grown-up.  I need to sit down and figure out what I want and then start making decisions that move me in that direction.  And deal with the choices I made cuz I'm a big kid now.  I really don't want chaos in my life although it always seems to find me and ends up staying a while.  It's like chaos is my friend.  We have breakfast, he chooses, and then we run (and I'm always faster but he never quits trying to catch me), and then I take a nap and when I wake up he's still there.  Curse you Chaos.  Go home.  Leave me alone...oh yeah, I let you in didn't I and I don't have the guts to stand up and decide I don't want you in my house anymore.  Back to square 1 I go.

Today I am going to attempt a decision.  I haven't decided what my answer is yet.  Baby steps.  But I'm going to decide and then I'm going to deal with the fallout.  There may not be one.  But there might.

From Here to There

I often find myself asking, "What's next?"  In fact, I live in the what's next most of the time and have been trying to be purposeful about living in the right now.  I think I've been doing a better job of that as of late but now I find myself asking the questions again. 

2 years ago at this time, I was in Cambridge, MA meeting with Lesley University about their graduate program in Expressive Therapies.  I was making plans, filling out applications, moving forward.  I had been searching for a long while to find a way to combine my love of science and the arts with my natural tendency to be a voice for the voiceless and thought I had found my calling...

Then I found out I was pregnant with the Loin Fruit.  The applications were put away along with my dreams and I began to concentrate on the life inside me.  He was/is my greatest priority.  But where does that leave Lauren?  Lauren on her own.  Lauren with desires.

I love the Loin Fruit.  He is the best thing that has ever happened to me.  But I struggle with my desire to put my talents to use on a larger scale.  Yes, I know being a parent is the highest calling.  Yes, I know his well being is more important than my own.  Yes, I know I've been given a gift in him.  But that doesn't mean that I don't have desires of my own anymore.  I am his mother but I am also an individual.  I have likes and dislikes of my own.  I have talents.  I have a need to create and heal. 

I do not know how to reconcile the two.

I also live in a place that does not cater to the things I am good at.  I spent the first 8 years of my marriage in my car essentially.  I drove back and forth and up and down to make something of myself.  I am an artist but my current location is not some place that allows me to do that full time.  I was bitter for a really long time about that.  I am not anymore.  I am not bitter that is.  I am sad.  It makes me wonder if I just gave up because of my circumstances or perhaps those circumstances are a chance for me to find new avenues for my passions.  I've had minor success here writing and directing plays but nothing on the scale of what I believe I am capable of.  So do I dwell on the limitations or do I try another path?  I have faced the resentment I feel and choose not to remain there because it isn't fruitful.  I do not want to be angry.  I want to be free.  Of course, this does not change anything on the outside but it changes me. 

I have always felt like a square peg in a round hole forcing myself into tight spaces that suffocate me for the good of everyone else.  The cost of doing so has been far greater than the reward.  I find myself resenting people I love because of it.  They didn't ask me to be the way I am.  I chose that.  I wasn't honest.  I didn't speak my truth.  I put them ahead of me and then passively punished them for it all the while shrinking on the inside.  That's my fault.  I own that.  Now, I am trying to live differently.

And so I am asking the what's next question again.  I want to be present but still moving forward.  Does that make sense?  I'm here.  I want to be fully aware here but I want to live a life that progresses onward to there, wherever there is.  But how? For now I take on projects.  I write my books.  I try to refurbish junk.  I run.  But these things temporarily pacify me.  They take up time in my day so that I do not turn to anger or resentment.  They do for now but not forever. 

Today I Grieve

Today I am grieving for the loss of possibilities for some that I love.  I grieve for the sadness they are experiencing.  I grieve for the loss of who they once were and the shadows they have become.  Shadows of their former selves, created by the hands of another person.  I grieve for a friend.  Their stories are not mine to share but nonetheless I hold them in my soul and cry out for them.

Nothing gives you the right to use the Church and Jesus Christ as a weapon.  How dare you.  How dare you manipulate another human being with the words of truth from the Savior who deals in love.  How dare you seek the approval of man over the needs of your family.

Don't you dare use the words of my God to harm another person.  Stop.  Stop being arrogant.  Stop desiring praise from humanity for your just deeds and nice words.  I see through that.  I've been there.  I've worn the mask and talked the talk.  It's fallacy.  It's fake.  So quit hiding behind doctrine and seminary speech because you are a fool. 

I'm tired.  I'm so tired of what I see in the Church at times.  I admit my own cynicism and I am praying for an attitude change because of how I have generalized the deceit.  I am not saying in any way, shape or form that everyone who claims Christianity is arrogant, a liar, or a moral justifier.  I am only trying to reconcile my own experiences with so many of those whom I share life with.  I know and love countless true believers who live their lives with transparency.  These people are real to the core.  They share their weaknesses and walk with me in mine.  They are genuine.  They are the Church.  They are walking vessels of Jesus to me.  I long to be that to everyone that I know.  I don't care who you are.  I don't care what you've done.  I don't care who you sleep with.  I don't care if you love a man or a woman.  I am not here to beat you with biblical references.  I am not here to "save" you.  I am not here to judge you for your past, present, or future desires.  Hear me, I am here to love you in the best way that I know how and that loves comes from the love I have experienced through Christ.  Don't shut me out with my Jesus talk.  Just know that because of Him I am me, broken pieces and messy tidbits alike.

And you know what?  I get it.  I completely get how people who don't believe in Jesus view those of us  that do.  If I was standing on the outside and experienced some of that hate that they have I would probably feel the same way too.  To those of you who have been burned, hurt, beat down, and remain scarred hear this:

I am sorry.  I am so sorry that someone who professed Christ treated you with malice.  

If that person was me please forgive me.  My God does not hate you nor do I.

Why can't we ALL just be honest about ourselves and our situations.  Why can't we be accountable to our God and forget trying to rescue the world with empty promises and words.  Live the life you were given in love through Jesus and it shall come to pass.  You don't have to polish your outside to walk inside the arms of love.  You don't have to fix yourself up.  That isn't your job.  

Cease.  Quit striving.  Stop.  Be still.  

"Come to me all who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest."  -Jesus (Matthew 11:28)

Back to the Garden

The Healing Garden is ready for rejuvenation.   Now that the sun isn't searing me with heat every hour of every day,  I can finally start planning my Fall garden.  I think about it all the time but now is the time to set things in motion.  New ventures are on the horizon friends.

The Healing Garden in the Spring

Container Garden in the Spring

I'm pretty excited to get my in-ground and container gardens going again.  I've been inspired since my vacation to St. Simons.  Hot Papa, the Loin Fruit, and I took several walks a day the entire week we were there and what I couldn't help but notice were all the butterflies.  I love butterflies.  We saw lots of these:

I need copious amounts of these in my life:

Pretty Flying Thing

On lots of these:

Butterfly Flower (Asclepias Tuberosa)

I think I need some of these too:

Of course I will be planting the usuals again this year:  Eggplant, Tomatoes, Bell Peppers, Basil, and Mint.  I'm also going to do broccoli, a variety of lettuces, and something exotic.  I'm not sure what the exotic will be but I'm doing some digging now to find something different.  I have found that I'm a whiz at growing egg plants and lettuce is super easy too.  The rest of the things are hit and miss for me but I keep trying because I want to be successful.  I had a productive tomato crop this year and my basil always does well.  I had a few bell peppers but then my plant got tired and went to sleep.  I still haven't cleaned out my containers from the Spring and one of my pepper plants has a small verging on orange pepper lazily growing up.  I don't expect it to get any bigger and the fact that it survived the Summer is still a little shocking (shocking in the realm of gardening not real life issues).  

Orange Bell Pepper on the grow

Garden Tomatoes from the Spring

So that's the scoop on the Healing Garden circa September 2012.  This season I'm looking for COLOR COLOR and more COLOR.  Hear Christopher Walken exuberantly saying, "I need more Cow Bell."

Up next, I'm going to post how to save seeds from an existing veggie, plant them, and then transplant them.  I experimented with that this Summer and had a good go of it.  I failed to remember that my peppers weren't going to survive the heat and I should of waited until now to plant them but, alas, I learned something from my ill fated timing.  Here's a sneak peak to get your motors running:

On the Grow

Day 3

Sad Face Banana

So Day 2 of the Writing Challenge = I got nothing for ya...but a picture.  I'm pretty sure I had good intentions yesterday but never got around to doing anything.

Day 3:
Today I didn't write but I've been doing more research on clocks and watches.  I have been reading books on the subject of Horology...get your mind out of the gutter.  Horology is actually the science of measuring time and also the art of making time pieces.  I may be delving much deeper into the art of making clocks and watches then necessary for the audience I am writing for but I don't care.  I think it is necessary to have an in-depth understanding of what you are writing about even if you don't go that far within the story.  The problem is I am still so confused.  Here's a few words that have been running through my mind:  escapement, gilded, verge, pillar, spring and balance, etc.  These aren't complicated words on their own but in the context of watches and clocks they are immensely important.  They are the essence of a watch and I still don't get it.  I feel like I keep reading the same things over and over and I'm not there yet.

I thought I would introduce you to the main characters, thus far, in the Time Keeper book.

Lynley Adara - you met our protagonist a few days ago.  She is a teenage girl but has been forced to be her father's keeper and, therefore, does not live the life of someone her age.  She is something of an old soul and it suits her.  She isn't ashamed of who she is nor who she isn't.  She is carrying a burden she should never have been given but does it with grace.

Aidan Adara - Lynley's father.  Aidan is a history teacher.  He works at the local college and is the quintessential scatter brained professor.  His office is stacked high with papers and should you ever visit there is only a singular narrow pathway to his desk and the one empty chair in the room.  His life at home is no different apart from no papers.  He collects records.  He sits in his worn leather recliner and disappears into the music.  He is anachronistic.  He should belong in this day and age but something is holding him back.

Dr. Elias Dower - Dr. Dower is the owner and proprietor of a clock shop.  Keenly aware that he is a genius in a rapidly fading art, he manages to keep his store open because of the likes of Lynley and her father.  There will always be the old souls, the ones who want to know why and how.  Elias is a keeper of secrets but he does not hide.

So there they are.  Somehow their lives are intertwined.  Somehow the mystery of time and the sadness of survival coincide.  I'm working on the plot now more than ever.  I keep having flashes of what will happen but I am struggling with how to put the pieces together.  I guess that's why I'm writing here on my blog rather than my book right now.  Somehow it feels safer to experiment here than on the blank pages of the book.  This needs to change.

ps.  I love watches.

Writing Challenge

So here it goes...I have been working on a book for over 2 years now.  At this point in the process, I am about 3 chapters in.  Abysmal.  I should be much further along but I keep having so many different ideas that I cannot seem to focus on sitting down and actually writing them.  This past week I made some progress in that department though.  I decided, "what the heck...who cares if I don't know where this is going.  who cares if I have to go back an fill-in, edit, shift, or change things."  This something I have known in my head for a very long time but it finally made its way to my heart.  So I'm actively writing everyday now.  Not much but enough to keep myself in motion without experiencing a meltdown.


My book is about time....Time Keeper is the tentative title.

I decided this morning that maybe I could benefit from some accountability.  Therefore I have created a 30 day challenge for myself.  For 30 days straight I will write in my book and I will discuss it here.  Not that I have a wealth of readers but if someone is out there (aka my mom) who reads this thing consistently that's enough.

30 Day Challenge

Day 1:
I am revising the chapters I've completed thus far into first person.  I don't know that I will keep this voice
but for now it is helping me to get to know my protagonist more.  Her name is Lynley Adara.  She is 15 years old.  She works in a clock shop.  Changing the voice of the book from third to first person has opened up some things for me.  I can always go back and change things but this is working for me now.  I may even do a chapter by chapter voice switch up.  I haven't decided yet.   

ps.  This isn't some teenage paranormal romance just in case you were wondering.

pss.  I'm also working on a middle grade fiction book.  Oscar Jenkins is the main character in this one.  Weird things are happening to him and the lunch ladies at his school just might be the reason why.

psss.  I'm also creating another character:  Levita Wind Wilder.  She loves words.  Unfortunately, she doesn't know when to be quiet and that gets her into trouble.

pssss.  Then there is my older aged persona Darby Rhodes.  She wear purple linen outfits, has crazy long gray hair, rides a beach cruiser with a basket and a bell and has pen pals across space and time.  The Mr. Rogers foundation was interested in this a few years ago to no avail.  I'm still working on her and by that I mean working on me.

A little of This and a smidge of That

Something has been happening in the past few days.  Can you feel it?  Perchance not so let me enlighten you.
There's been a subtle breeze outside.  I've seen several butterflies (one just flew past me now).  And I'm not dripping in sweat just buckling the loin fruit into his car seat.  That's right folks:  AUTUMN is on it's way.

I freaking love Fall.  I love the colors.  I love the feeling.  I love wearing long sleeved t-shirts and running shorts, cause that's how Fall is in Florida.  We don't wear pants until Winter and we don't wear socks until we go somewhere else for the Holidays.  During this season, green is so much greener and red is so much bolder.  Granted, we don't really have a change in seasons down south, but if I look real hard at the brush fires along the side of the highway it's kind of like the usual colors of Fall.  So I do that.  I go to pretend land and when I see something that's been burning I pretend that I am in Vermont.  I've never been to Vermont in the Fall but I have created what it must be like over and over in my mind on several occasions.

I want to go on a bus tour of New England in the Fall with all the old farts.  That would be amazing.

Also, the loin fruit turned 1 yesterday.  That's right folks.  No longer a baby.  I've got a full fledged toddler on my hands.  Why crawl when you can walk.  Better yet, why walk when you can kind of run...everywhere.  To the cabinet, to the fridge, to the dryer, to the cat box, to the fire truck he goes.  It is amazing how quickly he changes focus.  A little of this and a little of that is about all he takes the time for.  I love it though.  I love that he is engaged in so many things.  I love that he is curious.  I want to encourage that in him.  I want him to feel free to explore yet know that I've got his back.  I'm pretty sure that when he starts picking out his own clothes, I'm going to have that child that wears utterly mix-matched outfits and shoes.  I can dig it.

 

And So It Goes

And so it goes that in the midst of an ordinary week extraordinarily simple things are happening that seem to be having a big impact.  Nothing crucial, nothing out of the norm per say, just things that move life forward and are cause for a moments worth of reflection.

1.  We are swiftly approaching the 1 year anniversary of the Loin Fruit's birth.  It is just another Tuesday but in the words of my mom, "This is his next to last Tuesday to be an 11 month old."  Simple.  Yet huge.  My baby is turning into not so much of a baby anymore.  He walks.  He talks, I can't understand him but he talks more than anyone I know.  He feeds himself.  The newest best thing he does, which started yesterday, is full on head tilted backwards laughter.  It's pretty great.  He just starts laughing and tosses his head back with reckless abandon.

2.  I am a couple of scenes away from finishing another play.  Again, not finished, but I can see the finish line.  To most folks this isn't a big deal.  It shouldn't be.  But I am finishing something.  Finishing a creative writing project as opposed to just thinking about finishing one does wonders for the psyche.

3.  I contacted a local nursery (the garden kind) that I would like to feature in an article I am writing on container gardening.  Just part of a days work but it feels good to be active and in a forward motion.  I like this movement thing.  It suites me.

4.  I had someone else enroll in my on-camera technique class for teens.  That's a whole 2 people for those of you who are keeping count.  Still, it is more than one.  Not enough for a class yet but a third of the way there.

5.  I ran and did cross-fit today.  Ok, I'm sneaking this in because I exercise everyday but now I am following a half-marathon training program and I stuck to the work out for the day.  I like having a plan.  So does my friend Kjacks.  She inspired me to have a plan of my own.  I don't need motivation to work out because I am a recovering anorexic, we don't need the extra incentive to move.  I do like having goals though and this program helps me to visualize them, literally.

6.  We are having  a team dinner tonight.  Be jealous.  We have an amazing group of friends here.  They have made life in the heat bearable.  Team tour guide (M and E) decided we should have team names.  I think this came about after the beginning of the Hunger Games hysteria which K, M, and myself wholeheartedly joined in on.  M and E are Team Tour Guide because, despite living here much less than the rest of us, they seem to know where all the cool places are.  Because they are cool.  And we are not.  And that is okay.  R and K are Team Fail...not my story to tell but it is nice to know that you can laugh in the midst of sorrow and then keep on laughing once the sorrow passes.  E has a new proposal for them though:  Team Fancy.  I think it fits.  R and K love to eat on china with cloth napkins and when there is the slightest cause to dress up count them in.  Perhaps they will fail with fancy and then adopt the name:  Team Fancy Fail.  Hot Papa and I are Team TMI (too much information).  We don't have great filters on our mouths.  Sometimes that's a good thing.  Sometimes, when a situation calls for discretion, we are the people you don't want around.  Thankfully we have friends who accept us farts and all (see too much info.  you didn't need to know that we fart a lot...but we do, haha).

Anyway, it is just another day.  But the thing is, it really isn't.

My Kid Rules

The loin fruit loves the water.  That's an exceptional thing since we live in Florida and are encased by water on both sides and in multiple backyards.  

I never expected that the smile and utter fascination to captivate me the way that it does.
I am lost in it.  On a boat ride with Big Granny, he positions himself at the bow and watches over us all.

Seriously, look at that booty.  How can you not smile?

My baby changed my world and if you have one you know what I mean.  Your baby may be your dog, cat, or human.  No matter.  Seeing life through the eyes of another changes you.  It changed me.
The loin fruit has made me a better person.  He has shown me that every moment is worth celebrating.  Every moment is worth experiencing to the fullest.  Should your time require tears.  Cry away!!
Should your moment require dancing, by all means dance like a fool.  Bounce like no one is watching.  Drop it like it's hot over and over again.

I long to live the life of a child (not that I want to take a dump in my underwear.  I appreciate the toilet and modern plumbing).  I do, however, long to live a life of newness.  A life that is fully conscious.  A life that celebrates newness.  A life that honors the honesty of the moment.

The loin fruit has taught me this.

He is young.  He is but a babe.  He has changed my outlook.

To live everyday with awe and appreciation.  Maddox has inspired me to do just that. 

Gardening Your Life: Marriage

Disclaimer:  I am not a marriage expert.  I never will be.  I don't want to be.  I just want to love the Hot Papa

to the best of my ability.

Hot Papa (he is hot!!!!)

The purpose of this post is to talk about the amazing man I get to do life with.  All of life, not just the fun stuff.  The hard crap too.  The husband, from hence forth referred to as "hot papa", has given me the gift of holding my kite strings.  He is firmly rooted while I get to soar about and make discoveries of my own.  I know he is my steady one.  I know he has my back.  I know I am not the easiest person to live with - I know this, really - but he loves me all the same.  I long to be the wife and friend he needs.  I often fail.  But I try.

Hot Papa as Shellon Cooper for Halloween 2011

For goodness sake, he dresses up for Halloween because he knows I like to.  Halloween is a significant part of our history too.  He pursued me around a fire for several hours dressed up as a redneck before I finally talked to him...he should have known what he was getting into solely from that evening.  I did not make it easy.

Hot Papa pursued me from the beginning.  He pursued me the way a woman should be pursued, without shame, without preconceptions, with nothing but honor in his heart.

Hot Papa scared me.

At the time of our meeting, I had resolved to do things differently.  I recognized a pattern in my dating life that I had decided to change.  Then he showed up.  He didn't know my struggles.  He didn't know my resolve.  He just wanted to know me.  I resisted.  Oh how I fought the Papa.  It really wasn't fair and had he been less of a man he would have given up long before I realized what a treasure he was.  Hot Papa was patient.  He did not judge.  He wanted me.  All of me.  And finally I saw the light.  I'll never forget it.  I was talking to my mom about this boy.  He was cute.  He was nice.  He liked me.  I was freaked out.  She said, and I'll never forget it, "Lauren, you are running away from someone that I would run to."  I sat with those words for a bit and realized how foolish I had been.  I judged Hot Papa based on my past.  That wasn't fair.  He was not my past.  He was my present.  He was to be my future.  He is my heart.

Hot Papa and I got married soon after.  We were both at points in our respective lives where we were moving forward.  He graduated with his Masters Degree and I had finished a theatre tour.  We knew we were meant to be together so why wait?  We didn't.

Our first years of marriage were hard.  Really hard.  I was very sad and felt very stuck where we are.  He never gave up on me.  We hit our stride and then the hardness came back.  You see, I have been wrestling with questions as of late.  These questions do not pertain to my marriage but rather with who I am, who I am called to be, and what that looks like in my daily life.  Hot Papa doesn't always understand.  How could he? I do not understand myself.  With the help of Jesus, Dr. P, my friends, and myself I'm learning.

I cannot help but wonder if Hot Papa doesn't regret his decision 9 years ago.  He could not have know what he was signing up for.  I am a mess.  I readily admit that but this time it is different.  It isn't just me.  It's me, Hot Papa, and the Loin Fruit.  We are a family and we are in this together.  I cannot run and hide like I used to.  I have to work out this life with fear and trembling.  I fail.  I learn.  I hurt those around me.  I feel sad.  I long to be the person I was created to be but discovering who that is is hard.  I cannot tell you how grateful I am that Hot Papa holds out his arms and lets me wrestle with myself.

Marriage isn't easy.  I am a cynic and tend to question when people say how wonderful married life is all the time.  Sure it is wonderful for moments.  Most of the time though, I find that marriage is a continual learning process.  People are not static creatures.  We do not stay the same.  At our core, we may have attributes that stay relatively the same but with shifting scenery and circumstance who knows what will become of us.

Why can't people admit that marriage is challenging without justification? Why must people put on a show?  Let's be real for just a moment.  Will this be scary for some of you...absolutely.  That's okay.  When two people come together challenges will ensue.  Rather than living in your private closet, come out and share.  I do not mean to say that you tell everyone everything about you but be HONEST.  I tend to believe that we are more alike than we admit to one another.  Stop pretending.  Be who you are.     I need that.  You need that.  We need that. 


Enough of that.  


Hot Papa has been my companion since Halloween of 2002.  He stole my heart that night but I didn't admit it until December.  He has given me more than I could have ever asked for.  I do not give him the credit he deserves.  So here goes:


Dear Hot Papa,


Because of you, I am me.  Because of you, I am free (I'm rhyming and I didn't even mean to).  I love you dearly.  I do not always show you.  I will give you myself.  I will be honest.  I will not hide in front of you.  I am thankful that you go to work each day and I know that leaving the Loin Fruit is hard.  I see it on your face.  I read it in your eyes.  He is lucky to have you.  Never doubt your significance.  Never doubt your reach.  You are loved.

Shall we kiss?

Gardening Your Life: Girlfriends

Let’s talk about girlfriends shall we.  When I survey the plot of land holding all my friendships I am amazed at the color and flavor bursting forth.  This bed is nothing short of miraculous.  I even have a few evergreens in there.  Trees that were planted long ago and have withstood the test of time and the trials of life grace my garden.  I have some hot peppers in there along with some sturdy marigolds that keep the bugs away.  There’s sweet smelling lavender, rosemary that comes back year after year even after I don’t tend to it like I know I should.  Rosemary is incredibly faithful.  It’s hardy and wise.  I love that rosemary.  I have several other herbs that help spice up my life too.  There are caladiums that come back year after year.  I forget about those sometimes until they show back up.  It is only then that I realize how much I missed them the season before.  There are beds of hearty eggplants that just grow with seemingly no effort.  They feed me.  They feed my heart.  My garden is also comprised of beautiful annuals.  The bloom but once and live only for a season but while they are a part of my life I cherish them.

My garden of friendships is enviable.  I do not always give it the respect and time it needs.  I often take for granted that the fruit, flowers, and leaves will be there and disregard certain areas.  To those plants, please forgive me. 

My mom always said there was life after high school.  THANK GOD!  My soul sisters didn’t come into my life until then.  They were worth the wait.  Let’s start with Colleen. 

Colleen is my rosemary.  She is fragrant and sweet.  She is an evergreen.  She is hardy.   She grows in almost any conditions.  She is steady and flavors my life.  Colleen should have given up on me long ago.  But she didn’t.  She is a fighter.  She holds friendships sacred.  I have learned so much from her.  Our days at Young Harris College are years away, but she is always consistent, always loving and always striving to be more and more.  She doesn’t give up.  I love her for that.  She is also a palm tree.  She goes with the storm.  She fights.  She survives.  She is brave and sweet at the same time.

Joy, I don’t know that I can ascribe a singular plant to her.  She is my oak tree and my pursalane.  She is my oak in that she is elegant in her poise, firmly rooted within herself.  She knows who she is.  She is solid.  I stand and look at her when I am questioning life and know she will have answers.  If she doesn’t , not matter.  She provides me with shade and coziness all the same.  She is my precious white purslane too.  She thrives in hot conditions, flowers every morning, and doesn’t require much maintenance.   She surprises me though.  She blooms pink within the white sometimes.  It is unexpected and delightful.   Joy planted herself in my garden and refused to go away. 

Valerie my precious Valerie, she too cannot be summed up in one plant.  She is my caladium: Big and bold and with beautiful green leaves reaching to the sun.  She goes away but she always comes back.  That is in her nature.  She is a stargazer lily too.  When she blooms her smell is so sweet.  It is the first thing you notice when you walk into the room.  I stand and look at her and see what I want to be.  She comes back year after year in spite of the storm.  She is resilient.

Meagan is my rosebush and my scotch bonnet pepper.  She is my rosebush because her fragrance fills my heart.  She is colorful.  She is undeniable.  She is cautious and her thorns serve as protection for the beautiful flower that she is.  I often wonder if she knows what a treasure she is.  She is a scotch bonnet in that she flavors my life.  She spices things up.  Meagan has the ability to bring life into the room.  She loosens me up.  She reminds me that without a little adventure life is no fun.  She is sweet and spicy.  I love this combination.  She is a force to be reckoned with.  I love what she adds to my table.

Kristen is my marigold and my eggplant.  She is entirely colorful though I doubt she recognizes that in herself.  She is a marigold because she helps keep the bugs at bay.  She is consistent.  She grows cautiously but when in bloom it is something radiant to behold.  She is an eggplant in that she helps nourish me.  She grows under the cover of big leaves but when she blooms she cannot be mistaken.  She comes inside with me and helps feed my soul.  

Kim is a part of my new growth.  She has firmly planted herself in my garden and although I have not been the best at tending her soil she continues to bloom.  Kim is like an herb garden. She is like my lavender.  Her blooms are beautiful but it takes a while to figure out the right soil composition.   Once she takes root, she cannot be denied however.  Like lavender, I have found her to be a comfort in the midst of daily living.  She is one of my most favorite herbs.  Much like other herbs as well, she teaches me that growth takes time. 

And then there is my mom.

My mom cannot be contained.  She cannot be defined by one plant or another.   She has a plot all her own in my heart.  As a teenager, I wanted to prune her back and push her away.  As an adult she is every plant I could ever dream of.  She is the brilliant purple of an impatient.  She is sturdy like an oak tree.  She is fragrant like jasmine.  She is luscious like ground cover.  She fills me up.  She feeds my spirit.  She is always there.  Her bed is just outside my heart and I always go to her to find solace.

And Christy.  Christy is like a colorful annual.  I’ve known her for years now and every time she pops up I am so excited.  She blooms bright.  She is constant.  I love the color my life has with her in it.

As you can see, my garden of friendship is complex and fruitful.  As tend to this plot, I do not always take care of my plants the way I should.  I hide sometimes and neglect my foliage.  Sometimes I do not water and all too often I do not feed my plants the way I should.  I am working on that though.  I have recognized that each plant is unique to itself and what works for one does not necessarily work for another.  However, each contributes so very much to my life and I am grateful for all that they are and all that they will be.   

I have other flowers in my beds to be sure.  Ann is my thyme.  She is firmly rooted and who knows when she’ll pop up but when she does it’s pretty great.  Heather is like a butterfly to me.  She flutters in and I can do nothing but sit and admire her quiet strength.  Gina, she’s like a bell pepper.  She is ripe with life.  Sarah is my cherry tomato.  She is strong and sturdy and bright.  Dana is like my lemon verbena.  She is all wild and willy but it smells so sweet.  She encourages me to step out and try to live my dreams.  Pam is like my mint.  She leaves traces of herself wherever she goes.  She is sweet and made of more strength than she gives herself credit for.  All of these women and many more comprise my garden.  My prayer is that you have a luscious garden of friendships that feeds you and you, in turn, feed as well.  I lived such a long portion of my life thinking I needed no one.  I was wrong.  I do need.  I am not ashamed of that. 

Throughout the seasons of my life I have been honored and blessed beyond measure to do life with the most amazing women.  I hold my watering pail high in salute to you. 

Gardening Your Life Series #1

I’ve wanted to write a series on Gardening Life for a while now.  That sounds like I have something really magnificent to say about the process of gardening.  I really don’t.  But after working with my own literal garden and learning things about how it all works I had a thought: 

Life itself is full of all sorts of variety of gardens and we must do our part, our best, to cultivate the gardens given to us.

After chewing on this thought for a while I discovered that in my own life I have several metaphorical gardens of my own:  family, friendships (both near and far), creativie, spiritual, emotional, my own physical well being, learning, etc.  Every “garden” has its own plot of land within me needing special soil and care uniquely made for its constitution.  I feel like this list could be quite long.  Your list can look totally different from mine as well.  That’s the beauty of gardening.  We plant our seeds, whatever they may be, and then we must do our part to nurture the crop.  I have also discovered that at times my various gardens are flourishing while at others they are wilting or even dying.  The leaves droop or the fruit doesn’t come to life.  Sometimes my gardens are overflowing with life and vitality and I could sit and be content with all the colors and flavors I feel with my senses.  The point is, how do I/we do our very best to take care of our individual gardens?

That’s what I will be writing about over the next couple of weeks.

I am not saying that I have the answers only that I want to delve deeper into my crops.  I want to examine my beds and see where they are.  What needs to be pruned?  What needs to be watered?  What needs a little extra attention or perhaps several long hours of work?  What is my role?  Have I done all that needs to be done in order for my gardens to thrive?  Maybe some of my beds need to be excavated and given time before the next planting season. 

As you can see, there are lots of questions and few answers.  I’m okay with that.  I am learning to live in the question.  I am seeing how fruitful experimentation can be.  I don’t have to know the why’s and why not’s right now.  Neither do you.

Let us step into the garden and see how it grows.

I did it!!!!

So, for anyone who is interested, I lived up to my week long write everyday challenge.  Well, I missed the following Monday, but I think I made up for it.  I didn't actually write anymore of my books but I did revise some previous blog posts and, wait for it, submitted them to a couple of local magazines. 

4 years people.  It has taken me 4 years to step out and try to get myself published.  I wrote my query.  I sent my articles.  And I waited.  For a whole day.  That's all it took for one of the magazines to contact me.  Going from there, I proposed a few article ideas and THEY WANT ME TO WRITE SOMETHING FOR THEM!!!!  Woot and Woot again.  I'm pretty sure I won't be getting financial payment but I could care less.  I'm going to be published...in February of 2013.  Sure, that's several months away.  Sure, they could get my articles and say they suck and refuse to publish them.  But for today, I am not going to focus on the negative could-be in this scenario.  I am going to be excited about taking a leap of faith.  I am going to congratulate myself on doing something and not just thinking about doing something.

So, if there is something you have been dreaming about doing.  Quit dreaming and do something about it.  That is much easier said than done.  I know this.  I've lived it for my entire life.  But it feels pretty good to take action.  It feels even better to have been validated. 

The Organic Revelation

Today I was making food for the loin fruit.  Dicing, chopping, and boiling away.  Then came my least favorite part:  peeling.  I do not peel most things I give him but I do peel apples.  It isn't like this is a difficult task.  I just don't enjoy it.  I often find my mind wandering as I peel and here are a few thoughts from today:

•   I wish I could have an apple tree in my backyard
•  Wouldn't it be cool to be able to peel an apple with one long fluid stroke of a knife.  This led me to the Wild West and a man with a big mustache and a leather outfit.  Not the trashy kind.  But rugged and made from the skin of a cow that he, the cowboy, killed and then used every part of for food, clothing, and shelter.  This led me to the big knife must wear on his person so that he can peel said apple.
• I want a knife solely for the purpose of peeling apples.

The apples I was using to make apple sauce for the loin fruit were organic.  They weren't pretty.  In  fact, visually compared to other apples you probably wouldn't choose them.  They weren't shiny.  The weren't excessively large.  They were quiet and still.  They didn't scream.  That's when the next thought came to me. The thought that stayed with me more than the cowboy knife apple excursion was this:

People are a lot like produce.

Some people are like produce grown with pesticides.  

They look really beautiful.  They have shiny exteriors.  They are coated in wax to protect themselves.

You'd pick them out of a crowd.  And you wouldn't ever get to know them.

But they aren't real.

Others are like fruits and vegetables grown organically. 

They soak up whats given to them and gift us with their reality.  

They don't sparkle in the traditional sense.  They are raw and mushy.

You might think they look different.

But they are real.

Don't mistake this as any sort of judgement on any type of person.  My observation showed me that I'd rather be like those organic apples than the pretty ones I always buy in the store.  I would choose these because I know what's in them.  There isn't any guesswork.  I don't have to pretend.  I would rather be that than the alternative.  Hiding behind a sparkly exterior because I don't know what's really going on inside of me.

I still like sparkly apples.

But it takes courage to be raw and mushy. 

To all you mushy folks out there.  I hold my cowboy knife high and salute you.

 

Self Challenge

After a thought provoking conversation with Dr. P and a relaxing weekend in the Keys, I have decided that I am going to declare myself a writer...this is huge folks.  In case you did not know, I've spent the better part of the last 3 years thinking about writing.  I've taken several classes and done lots of research.  Oh how I love research.  Research allows your academic self to kick into overdrive without actually committing to anything. 

I am sick of the nothing.

By God, I am a writer.  I believe I was created to create.  I have done so for as long as I can remember in varying capacities.  I have seen my plays be performed.  I've been published in academic journals (fun fact, I have a very academic side).  Now I want to move forward and be published in magazines and eventually see my middle grade fiction novel come to life.

I write my blog as practice.  Dr. P says that perhaps my blog is a way to avoid taking the step towards publication by putting my work out there for people to see and judge.  I want to deny this but the fact is it is true.  I am afraid of failure.  The sure fire way to avoid rejection is to keep your ideas locked in a closet.  I don't want to stay in the closet anymore.

I am tired of practicing my life.  I want to live it.

So I am putting it out there:  I AM A WRITER. 

I will still keep writing in this blog because it is helping me develop discipline.  The stakes are low but they do exist.  So now we come to the SELF-CHALLENGE portion of the discussion.  I have several ideas to write about over the next week and I am going to do so.  Everyday.  Sunday, today, until next Sunday I will be writing.  Don't expect your mind to be blown.  This is a practice in diligence for me and hopefully a way to stay connected to people as well.  I have learned that I am not good at connecting.  I am sorry.  Honest words on a page come easier for me than face to face ones.  Hopefully I will get there.  Until then, here we are.

See you Tomorrow.

Joy in the broken

...overwhelmed.  My broken plate brought me my friend.  She was missing.  I thought I lost her.  But she was found.  She has been walking a path of broken being.  I talked to her for 3 hours.  Well into the early morning hours of a regular Sunday, we spoke.  I have not seen that time on a clock in quite some time.  Three magical, joyful, painful hours the day I wrote that blog post.  It had been years.  Too many years.

She sounded more whole than I have ever heard her.  She broke.  But now she has found strength.  A strength that calls her to the quiet life.  She is resting in the storm.  I love her.

To all of you who feel broken and alone.  To all of you who carry the weight of the truth on your shoulder possibly being the only one who knows:  You are not what they say you are.  You are more.  You are living.  You are being.  You are wonderful.  Wear your broken with passion because it completes you.  Never cease being curious.

John 8: 32 "Then you will know the truth and the truth will set you free."

Be free.

My Plate Died

Before

This is my plate.  A plate that was made for me by someone who is very special.  A plate that was created in the year 2000.  I would only eat off of this plate for over a year after it was given to me.  This plate gave me peace and the ability to overcome all the fear associated with eating.

Last night my plate died.

I am sad.

I think there's quite a bit of existential meaning behind the death of this plate.  I had a few moments of silence celebrating the life of this plate after it broke.  Then I have a few moments of sadness thinking about what the plate represents to me.  After that, I felt strange for the rest of the evening.  Then, today, our pastor talked about the spiritual discipline of fasting and now I feel like there is something even more meaningful behind the death of my earthenware.  It is a beginning.  An ending to be sure, but also a beginning.  Here's why:

12 years and 1 pervasive relapse later, I am still a recovering anorexic.  When I returned home from my in-patient treatment for the disorder in 2000, my friend Valerie made me this plate.  I was so scared to eat.  I was so scared to live for that matter.  Somehow, though, I had to go through the motions of living so that I would survive.  Eating was a task not a pleasure.  It still feels that way now.  After a year or so I was able to eat off of other dishes but I kept this as a reminder of my journey.  It has lived in cabinets, displayed on the counter, and now it lives in a really big bowl because I cannot part with it. When eating hurts too much, I pull out this plate.  I am reminded that although I do not feel like I am up for the challenge, I can muster the strength to put something in my mouth.  Sometimes I wouldn't pull out the plate because I knew I was willingly allowing myself not to eat and it served as a reminder that I am stronger than that.  That is sad.

After

But this plate made me smile.  It entertained my palate.  It gave me hope.  And now it is dead.


So what does this death represent and why do I feel so connected to it?  As I try to process my feelings I cannot seem to reach a solid conclusion.  Perhaps the death of the plate means that I am no longer bound to props serving as substitutes for my real life.  Maybe I don't need a crutch anymore.  Wouldn't that be a joy?  12 years for an anorexic is an accomplishment.  Not that I don't struggle with body image and fear on a daily basis but somehow I have managed to keep things in check...until this past January or so.  I do not know when the relapse started only that by the time I realized what was happening it was too late.  I ate less than I ever have, was more active than I've ever been, and so incredibly lonely.  The pain  increased and I, in turn, denied my feelings and fought hard to become a perfect storm of destruction.

I have a son.  I love him dearly.  He needs his parents.  Even that was not enough to stop the downward spiral.

Pathetic.  

I went back to the things I knew helped before and even then it took months to make any progress.  I am better today.  Not healed.  Not perfect.  Not there yet.  But I am better and that is something.  So maybe the broken plate represents me.  I was colorful and lovely and gave hope.  I put myself away in a cabinet for a while and let myself, my soul self, go.  I pulled myself out every now and then to remind me how exuberant I used to be and then I would hide because I knew the truth.  Then I broke.  It was too much.

Now I am free to be whatever it is I am to be.  Whatever it is I am today.  That is enough.  

In Time...Lessons from the Garden

Friday

 

The garden has taught me many things.  Above all else, nurture and then wait.  Provide and then cease.  Give and then rest.  As a gardener that is your role.  You plant, water, feed, prune, and then wait.  Waiting is the hardest part for me.  If you pluck too soon, the fruit is not ripe enough.  If you wait too long the vegetable turns on you.  There is a balance that must be achieved.  Funny word, balance.  Something I cannot seem to find in my life.  I am always in a rush to get started but then my interest fades while I wait for my reward.  How sad.  How sad to miss out on the process of it all.  How I often miss the ripening because I want my fruit now.  This lesson applies in multiple areas of my life.  Today, however, I got the chance to relish in the outcome of my waiting.  Joy abounds this evening.

Monday

Much like our own lives, we reap and then we sow.  The former must come before the latter.  Like the Psalmist said, "Be still and know that I am God..."  In time, all will be revealed.  But shouldn't there be joy in the process of waiting.  I hope so.  I long for that joy in the midst of the now.

   So gardeners, cultivators of gardens and life alike, be still and know that what is coming will come.  You have done your part.  In time, you will see.

                                         

The Healing Garden: Homemade Baby Food How-To: Boil and Steam

The Healing Garden: Homemade Baby Food How-To: Boil and Steam: $1.00 on sale for 2 containers of baby food...yeah right.   $1.00, at least, for 1 container of organic baby mush. I don't think so.  I c...

Homemade Baby Food How-To: Boil and Steam

$1.00 on sale for 2 containers of baby food...yeah right.   $1.00, at least, for 1 container of organic baby mush. I don't think so.  I can make your wallet happy, help fulfill your farm girl fantasies, and delight your culinary senses. Promise.  So ladies and gents, put your aprons on, or not if you want to spice things up, and let's do this. 

The Loin Fruit enjoying homemade golden delicious apple sauce

Making your own baby food is no longer for the ultra-earthy or shockingly sheltered.  You don't have to have 19 kids and counting to make it work for you. Having a food processor or Magic Bullet helps but even those aren't completely necessary.  All you really need are a few utensils, ice cube trays, and a sense of adventure.

Things you must have:

1. Peeler
2. Knife
3. Ice Trays
4. Water
5. Something to mash with

Things that make it easier:

1.  Food processor or blender thingy

First things first, do your research and talk to your pediatrician.   I am not here to give you advice on what and what not to feed your child (refer to my previous baby food post for my statement absolving me from responsibility for your mistakes).  I just thought it would be helpful to have a list of how to do it.  And, I just downloaded Instagram for Android and I have tons of fun pictures now.

Wholesome Baby food from Momtastic.com 

Homemade Baby Food 

 

There are various methods you can use to make your baby food.  You can boil, steam, bake, and with some foods like bananas you can just mush them up the way they are.  I've only boiled and steamed at this point.  Today I am going to bake my sweet potatoes rather than peel, chop, and boil them just to see how they turn out.  Peeling sweet potatoes isn't fun.

Stream of Conscious thought for the day:

Have you ever said steam over and over?  Having just typed that word several times, it doesn't make sense to me anymore.  I just found myself wondering if that's the correct word.

Step 1:  Choose your vegetable or fruit

 

Golden Delicious Apples and Sweet Potatoes

Step 2:  Peel said fruit or vegetable (if it needs peeling)

 Step 3:  Chop em up (I use an apple corer for my apples but a knife works just fine)

Step 4:  Cover with water, bring to boil, let cook for about 10 minutes or until desired tenderness is reached

Step 5:  Remove from stove and place fruit/vegetable chunks in your food processor (or magic bullet or blender).  If you don't have any of these things don't freak.  You can use a mash potato masher thingy just as well.  The important thing is to create an optimal consistency.  You do this by adding some of the water reserve from your cooked fruit or vegetable.  If you process, blend, or mash and it isn't liquidy enough then add more water.  Conversely, don't add so much if you want a thicker consistency.  You can't remove the liquid once it is blended it so I find it easier to go with a less is more approach and then modify if necessary.

* the Loin Fruit now has 4 teeth so and has been eating solids for about 2 months.  Per my pediatrician's advice, I make his food a little chunkier. 

Step 6:  Put in a container and let the puree cool (I don't know that this step is necessary but I have burnt my fingers enough trying to get tablespoon sized amounts into my ice trays.  I decided it would be in my best interest to dump my mash into something and let it cool beforehand).

 

Cooling Apple Sauce

**Take a spoon, an adult spoon, and taste it.  Just do it.  Pretty tasty

Step 7:  Take a tablespoon sized dollop and put it into each ice tray space

Apple Sauce and Cauliflower

Step 8:  Freeze the trays.  Each cube is roughly 1 oz of food so that should give you some idea of how much you are feeding baby.  Store the cubes in a freezer safe bag and defrost as needed.  Each batch is good for about 3 months but you probably won't even need to know that fact.  

 

Step 9:  Feed the loin fruit

All Gone

  Step 10:  Watch your delightful loin fruit try and feed the cat his goodness