Comfort food posting

I know, I know: Where the hell have I been? What am I, blogger or a slacker? Well, mostly I've been trying to sleep, trying being the operative word. For example, here's how nap time goes: put down the Sprout, put down the Hatchling, wash out the accumulated bottles from the morning/previous night, do a half-assed picking up of the kitchen. Start to get really sleepy, lie down on sofa, doze for 10 minutes, get up to put pacifier back in Sprout's mouth, doze for 15 minutes, hear the cat making a racket right outside the Hatchling's door (he does this on purpose), go get cat and shut gate to upstairs, lie down and doze for 15 minutes, get up to nurse Sprout, doze for 10 minutes, wake up to telemarketer phone call, curse all telemarketers, hide phone in sofa cushions, shut cat out on the back porch, put pacifier in Sprout's mouth, take deep breath, lie down, doze for 20 minutes, and then the Hatchling wakes up.

Sounds restful, don't it? I'd probably be better off not even trying to nap, but I'm too tired not to.

Anyhoo, I was all jazzed up for tonight because I was actually going to Go. Out. To A Bar. (!!!) Mr. Squab was going to watch the girls and I promised to be back before the Hatchling's bedtime. It was going to be so awesome, seeing old friends and drinking, you know, the sweet, sweet booze. But then the Sprout decided that today was projectile vomiting day, and she participated with unusual vigor. She's fine - no fever or anything and she seems to have settled down now - but I really didn't think I could leave Mr. Squab at home with a hyperactive three-year-old and a barfing one-month-old. So no night out for me ...

... which leads me to the comfort food, aka the real point of this post. Since I was home, and since we didn't have any sweet treats in the house, I whipped up some chocolate pound cake from my mother's recipe, and holy crap is it good. I frankly don't really understand why anyone makes non-chocolate poundcake, unless it's because you haven't made it with this recipe. When I was little, we used to make my mom take the cake out early so it would fall a little bit and we could eat the extra dense, moist pieces - but have no fear, it's plenty dense and moist even when it's fully baked. We like it warm out of the oven with no adornment, but then I almost always frost it with cream cheese frosting once it's cooled off. Anyway, it's a simple recipe that makes crazy delicious cake, so try it out next time you have a yen for something yummy.

Chocolate Pound Cake
1/2 c. shortening
1 c. butter
2 3/4 c. sugar
5 eggs
3 c. flour
1/2 c. cocoa
1 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1 1/4 c. milk
1 tsp. vanilla

Cream butter and shortening together. Slowly add sugar, then add eggs one at a time and beat until fluffy. Whisk flour, cocoa, baking powder and salt together, and add to shortening mixture alternately with milk and vanilla. Beat on medium for 2-3 minutes. Pour into greased and floured tube or bundt pan. Bake at 325 degrees for 1 1/4 - 1 1/2 hours. Try to restrain yourself from eating entire cake at one sitting.

Cream Cheese Icing
8 oz. cream cheese
1 stick butter
1 box powdered sugar
6 Tblsp cocoa
1 tsp vanilla

Whip it all together and slap it on the cake. Or eat it directly from the bowl, whichever.

The image of grace and dignity

You know what makes an outing to the park on an absolutely lovely spring day somewhat LESS enjoyable? When your nearly-three-year-old makes one of her patented breaks for freedom combined with an attempt to steal another kid's ball, thereby making it necessary for you to leap up, nursing baby still attached to your left boob, yelling COME BACK HERE RIGHT NOW and mouthing "I'm so sorry" to the other kid's mom, at which point the baby comes unattached, leaving your boob right out there for the whole park to see.

Not that I'm particularly modest or anything. But still. It's a little wearing.

One Month Old

Dearest Sprout,
Holy hannah, I cannot believe that it's already been one month since we welcomed you into the world! I'm going to do my best to write you monthly letters for the first year, just like I did for your big sister, but let me apologize in advance if I don't make it every month. I had no idea how EASY it was with only one kid until I had two.

I must say that, overall, your birth was a lot more relaxing than your sister's. Sure, you came two days early, but you timed it for when our doctor was on call and Daddy was already off work, so we can't really complain. My, but you were (are) a big baby, though! Almost three whole pounds bigger than your sister was. Way to raise the level of competition from the get go. It took the medical team quite some time to get you out, even with the C-section, and there was an audible reaction to your size as soon as everyone laid eyes on you. "Oh, that one's at LEAST 5 pounds," joked the nurse anaesthetist, and then everyone started laying odds on how big you really were. (The OR nurse called exactly at 10 pounds, 5 ounces.) You dwarfed the other babies in the nursery, and wowed all your visitors with vivid impressions of a grumpy sumo wrestler.

So: one month seems to be treating you pretty well, though as I recall it's the second month that started getting rough last time, so don't think you're off the hook or anything! So far you're an amazingly mellow and sweet little babysquab, happy to sleep and eat and stare around, only crying when you're hungry or gassy or way past needing a new diaper. To say that your place of residence is a little more chaotic than when your sister was a month old would be a vast understatement, but happily you've taken it all in stride, snoozing away while the Hatchling shrieks or dances or pitches fits in the background.

On the one hand, I feel bad that you'll never get the exclusive, undivided attention that your sister got when she was your age. On the other hand, I'm much more relaxed about my ability to parent you, so the attention you are getting is probably less likely to send you into therapy in later years. It all comes out in the wash, right?

Already this month, you've tackled learning how to nurse (still working on that one), getting a bath (hated the first one, loved the second one), getting your nights and days mixed up (you could stop that now, if you wanted), and, oh yes, shooting poop into your mama's face. You've been busy! As for the rest of us, we've been pretty busy, too, adjusting to this new addition to the household. I can say pretty confidently that all four of us are pretty tired and overwhelmed, working on getting more sleep and settling into a more normal routine. But the most important thing, as your father observed the day we brought you home from the hospital, is that "our family feels complete now." Thanks for completing us, baby girl. Now quit pooping in my face.

love,
Mama