Friday, June 8, 2012

Maxi, Stockholm-style

I have a thing about Kohl's. Mainly, that I hate it. I know it's popular among the bargain hunter set and as a self-proclaimed finder of the deal I should embrace its perpetually disheveled racks and celebrity monikered lines, but oh mah gad... that store kills me. Nothing ever really fits me, the fact that there's always 30/40/50% off everything makes me feel like I'm never actually getting a deal, and the cult following behind Kohl's cash is just a little too purple kool aid for my tastes. But sometimes I get a bag of well meaning purchases from my mama and maaaybe some of it turns in to a merchandise credit... sometimes.

So tonight I decided to face my nemesis in search of a new duvet cover and maybe a set of sheets for our bed. In search of serenity, I was.

Well, this is where the story gets humbling friends. There's no clever way around it really... I got past the "what parent allows their daughter to wear that?!" junior's department, the Lexus crossover driver populated Dana Buchman section, and even the mish-mash of jewelry, Simply Vera bags, and Jennifer Lopez fragrances... I could see the wall of linens ahead, but then out of the corner of my eye I spotted this...



Maxi dress, clean lines with a subtle suggestion of chevron, flattering racerback neckline, and if I dared to dream, it was a non-maternity dress that might just fit over my very third trimester maternity belly. There was a fleeting moment of doubt, some nervous lip tugging, and then I grabbed it in all four available sizes and headed for the fitting room.

This is what happened...




Yes, I tried it on with sunglasses. I was wearing zero eye makeup and I don't trust my un-enhanced reflection in dressing room lighting. 

Yes, I'm also making a Rachel Zoe face. I admit it! I make celebrity stylist duck face when I try on clothes. I'm ashamed, alright?!

But back to happy times.. this dress is a dream. It drapes beautifully, doesn't hug anything it shouldn't, has a sexy neckline and "shoulder silhouette" yet still works with a big girl bra, and comes up high enough under the arms to keep the "hey baby!" side boob under wraps.

And... I'm wearing a small. A SMALL! This from the girl who was a solid 6 pre-pregnancy and whose hips and thighs have plumped up to a healthy 8 post.

There I am folks. Just another deprogrammed Goldie Hawn to a scheming Kurt Russell, dressing up in another woman's clothes, giving myself over to my captor.

Best 40% off I ever spent... just please don't tell my mom.

Thursday, June 7, 2012

Baby things

There is really nothing so enjoyable to me right now as spending quiet evening hours scouring Etsy for nursery finds or taking all of Saturday afternoon to stroll through the abundance of antiques and vintage in Old Ellicott City... a mirrored vanity tray here, a milk glass hobnail lamp there...

Baby girl's room is going to be a thing of curated, vintage and vintage-inspired beauty, I'm not even the least bit hesitant to say. It started with the somewhat exhaustive search for a classic crib that was feminine but not too girly, from a time gone by, but still modern... and then I had to find the perfect vintage-inspired fabric to have a crib skirt and blanket made.. which of course prompted the 20-sample search for the exact right shade of cream for the walls (not too yellow, not too peach, enough of a tint to not be white...).. and then came the dresser (a gorgeous painted piece I found on one of those Saturdays for a steal).. which made me think I could paint my old reclaimed bookshelf a light misty aqua to match the flowers in the fabric... which gave way to the possibilities of a coordinating pale lime for the rocker.. and you get the idea... if you give a first time mom a cookie, she's going to ask for a glass of milk...

Every effort and energy, creative thought and DIY I've always wanted to do or try, but never made time for in my own pre-maternal living spaces are now bubbling to the surface, and remarkably the motivation to do them all is in bountiful supply... I suppose this is what they call the nesting...

So here's my first attempt at a mood board, just a few things either currently taking up residence in or providing the inspiration for butterbean's boudoir... and yes, it very much looks like a first attempt, so be kind :)


Nursery

Monday, May 28, 2012

May 28, 2012


Today I stood at the edge of the ocean where I have stood 29 summers before... before I could have ever imagined your name... and thought of all the days that came later when I hoped and wondered if I would get to show you this place where I was a girl, a child, and now, your mother. The sun moved over my belly and you within it and together we went into the surf.




Saturday, May 19, 2012

Birthday Eve


In a few hours, it will be my birthday. I suppose technically it's my birth day now, but as a bit of a birthday purist I don't really feel it until the actual time of my birthday which was 9:47am on May 19th, in a year gone by called 1982. Let the math lead you where it may.

When I was little I saw my parents "being 30" and thought "that will be the age when I eat vegetables without prompting, can drive, and will be given my very own house by the grown up fairies." As I grew, I saw 30 in all of a teenager's simple-minded cliches.. old, boring, the end of childish fun and spontaneity. When I fell in love, 30 became an end goal. A "have this done by then" check-point of domestic success. When I married at 26, I felt 30 give its nod of approval. When I separated at 28, I looked to 30 in shame. I spent most of 29 looking forward to once again being at 0. 3-0.

Today is not just my birthday, it's also my baby shower. My wonderful, constant mother and grandma-to-be is throwing a shower for the nugget and I, and I tell you, if you can time it just so, there is no better way to spend your birthday eve than in anticipation of a gathering of family and friends celebrating the near arrival of your first little bundle of sweetness and joy.

I don't know how I feel about 30 today. I suppose I'm ambivalent towards thinking anything about it at all. I look in the mirror and see an older face and a healthy body and I'm proud of having gotten here with my mind, predominantly, intact. I'm turning 30 and my baby is rolling and stretching and I can feel her tiny feet and hands reaching towards my belly button (and towards freedom, perhaps? nope, not possible, can't think about that impending reality right now) and my new perspective is that this year... and the next and the next.. are going to be anything but boring. After three decades of wondering what "30" would mean for me, it really couldn't be less about me at all, and that is wholly and thoroughly refreshing.


My heart is full and I'm too excited to sleep. Turning 30? Not much different than turning 5 or 10 it seems.


Balloons, Youngna Park

Monday, May 7, 2012

The man in my life

I have had a post in draft form for several weeks now, introducing you to the man who, among many other things, is the father of the sweet little baby due to arrive sometime in the next ten weeks or so.  I let him read the first few paragraphs last night and he smiled and playfully called me a nerd, probably because, I am true to form, the first few paragraphs were mostly me writing the way I would tell you the story in person - overly, and perhaps unnecessarily, animated, sarcastic, rambling, and dotted with irrelevant references to whatever was distracting my train of thought at the time. 

I sat down tonight to finish that post and do what I've been wanting to do for a while - to let you in on this new(ish) part of my life and fill in some details of the story of how this baby came to be. But I can't finish that post now, at least not in the way it was written. I was trying to tell you how and where we began, and though it's only been a few months since, that could not be further from where we are now. I just can't start our story there, though I'm certainly going to save that post for sometime down the road. Eventually the girl-meets-boy story will have to be told.

Until then. This is him..























Handsome fella, and the hat is permanent.

We had just signed for our first house together and as we were leaving the parking lot after a celebratory lunch, I said, "We're going to be roommates!", which still makes me laugh since we are also going to be parents, and one would think that sort of trumps the roommate milestone. This was his face. He makes it often. I love it.

Tonight we were talking about the children we may have later. The possibilities of our future are something we've discussed several times, to varying degrees of seriousness, and probably on both sides with varying degrees of faith and trust. I question myself frequently. I question my ability to make something last. I question whether I'm the kind of woman who can do more than one thing well. Can I be a mother, have a career, make a home, continually nurture a relationship, and do each thing well enough to be worthy of any? I don't yet have an answer.

I wonder sometimes how he is dealing, what he is thinking, if he is still happy and fulfilled being the man in my life. If he is as excited to be a parent with me as I am to be a parent with him. I keep waiting for there to be moments of hurt, or of wanting more, wanting me to not have the bags I came with, but what comes instead is moment after moment of love, support, and opportunity to build this life together. He is teaching me patience and acceptance and shows me every day what it is to let someone love you whatever way they know how.

He said something to me tonight that I will remember always. I hope when he reads this, he knows what it was.


Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Christmas in May

And here I thought I was gonna have to miss out on leopard skinnies since I'm a full 7.5 months pregnant while they're at their peak.  Turns out, someone read my letter to Santa.

Asos, $69.08. And free shipping, Whee!


Tuesday, March 20, 2012

I am not a food blogger

But I do cook, a lot actually, and I enjoy the heck out of it.. it's like therapy or yoga or what happy hour used to be before Baby E was on the way.  I'd probably cook every night if I had the organizational skills to plan more than a day or two ahead, but alas, for now I'll get the urge to make something, hit the grocery store after work, and sometime between then and midnight, dinner hits the table. I tend to draw on a few cookbook standbys that I've mastered and can pull together on the quick, but every once in a while inspiration strikes and something marvelous happens.  Sunday night was one such evening, and as I sit here munching on the last scraps of the leftovers, I feel the need to share this flavor explosion with you.

And since I am not a food blogger (to my deep chagrin), I must preface...

I didn't take pictures.

I can't recall exact measurements.

Temperatures and cook times...?  Ehhhh.... 

But it was easy, it was pretty, and it was something simple that didn't look like something simple so you could do this to impress your friends one night with a bottle of whatever or to triumphantly circumnavigate the always welcome surprise in-law visit or because you may have spent the equivalent of next month's rent on baby clothes (that never happens here, never...) and you need a buffer meal to put you back in your significant other's good graces. This is the Belgium chocolate of easy meals. Or the Italian shoe. Or the vegan falafel waffle... I don't know, whatever works for you.

I call it... Italian Wedding Salad.

And lemme tell you why... no, it does not have delightful little meatballs, or italian seasoning of any kind (unless you count scads and scads of garlic), and no little noodle balls or equivalent substitute. I call it Italian Wedding Salad because it has lettuce and baby spinach (the green!), and potatoes (which kinda look like the noodles... sort of... before you cook and season them), and balsamic vinaigrette (which could be broth! maybe! especially if you're a liberal dressing-dressinger like I am!).. and... gah... don't ask, it was delicious. 

Italian Wedding Salad
(Served two ravenously hungry people, who tend to ignore appropriate serving sizes altogether, generous portions plus sliiiightly more reasonable seconds one night, one person a yummy lunch and dinner the next night, and then the two people from the first night bickered over portion size the 3rd day until the person who made the original mass quantity pulled the "growing a human" card and got all the rest of it to herself... so whatever that serving size would mean in your household, so be it)

From what I can recall:

1.79lb package of chicken tenders (I only remember the weight because it's the last thing I saw before I dumped the trash, and the exact number of tenders alludes me, but it doesn't really matter, as you will see...)
2 large lemons
1 red onion (I would say mine was small-mediumish, but again, most of this is to taste and who cares what size your onion is anyway?)
2-3 cloves of garlic (I love garlic like I love thin thighs so I used 3 elephant-sized cloves and probably could have added a 4th)
Salt & Pepper
Lettuce mix of Red Lettuce, Arugula, and Baby Spinach (enough to fill a big 'ole mixing bowl, it's gonna "melt down" when you add the rest of the innards)
Red potatoes (I used 2 medium-large guys)
1 package of baby bella mushrooms, sliced
Balsamic Vinaigrette (I use Newman's because he's my boyfriend, but fancy people make their own I hear.. pssht...)
Extra Virgin Olive Oil (I used some store brand that's about 100 years old and somewhere Mario Batali was weeping I'm sure)
Feta, crumbled 

And here's what I did:

Throw the chicken tenders in a bowl, squeeze the juice of both lemons over the chicken. Thin slice the onion,  set aside half, rough chop the garlic, and throw that in with the chicken as well. Combine, cover with plastic wrap (or a plate, if you never have plastic wrap, ahem...) and put that mess in the fridge for 30 minutes to an hour while you gather your strength and eat some girl scout cookies.

In the meantime, fill a medium sauce pan halfway with water, add a dash or so of salt, and bring that to a boil. Chop your potatoes into "quarter crescents"... basically slice the potato down the middle, cut 1/4 inch slices from each half, and then halve those - make sense? Or chop them however you please, just make sure they're not too thin and you can fork them with ease. Throw your chopped potatoes in the boiling water for about five minutes or so, enough to soften but not to turn to mush... or.. er.. mash.

While that's going, heat a big skillet over medium heat and add a little olive oil to the pan. Rinse your mushrooms if need be and give them a rough chop, set aside. Drain the potatoes and set those aside. Get your chicken mess out of the fridge, add salt & pepper to taste, toss to distribute, and add a few tenders to the pan (I cooked mine in three batches, but do what you will, it all comes out in the end). Don't stress if a few chopped onion or garlic pieces are stuck to your chicken when you throw them in the pan. I stressed, but it's all part of the magic.

Tenders don't need long to cook at all, so after 2-3 minutes I flipped over my first batch, saw golden brown perfection and knew today was the day I brought world peace to all. I added about a third of the potatoes and mushrooms to the skillet, around the chicken Roman wreath style, and then added a splashola of the balsamic dressing. Stir that all together and prepare for nosy people to start making their way in to your kitchen. When the chicken was cooked through (2-3 min per side), I moved the tenders to a plate to rest, gave the whole skillet a stir, let it sit for a few seconds, and then moved each batch of potato-mushroom-balsamic-plus whatever was stuck on the chicken to a separate bowl.  I repeated this in three batches... add chicken, add potatoes and mushrooms with some balsamic, flip chicken, remove chicken, stir the rest, move the rest.  I added the last bits of onion-garlic-lemon marinade, along with with the rest of the red onion set aside earlier, to last batch so as to not burn the bennies out of the garlic and onion, and to give a fancy flourish to the end since by this point people were watching.

Somewhere in the middle of all your batch-ing, rinse and chop your lettuce mix and throw that in the biggest mixing or dedicated salad/serving bowl you have.

Once all is cooked and fragrant and lovely, start adding your potato-mushroom mix to your greens, using some sort of tong-tossing-sand shovel device to combine. I did try to do this with some semblance of grace and agility so the greens would stay fluffy and not ripped to shreds under the weight of the cooked elements, and honestly, it may have been the hardest part of the whole endeavor. Once that was done, I layered the chicken on top, sprinkled with a generous helping of feta, and voila... Italian Wedding Salad was born.

The chicken was absurdly tender, the lemon flavor was there enough to add some early spring citrusy goodness, but not overpowering. The arugla was peppery, the spinach was healthy, and the red leaf lettuce just makes me feel normal. We both added some extra balsamic to our helpings, but since no one likes a soggy day old salad I opted not to add it to the whole bowl.  Smart.

And the feta... oh sweet, tangy, delicious Greek feta... there are no words for what we share.

So there it is folks.  Next time I'll have the foresight to also grab a fat loaf of crusty, yummy bread.  As it was, he who has been previously mentioned in the bickering over who got the last helping was so inspired and enamored with my culinary prowess that he decided to whisk me off to the end of the street for after dinner frozen yogurt, Japanese-style.  Chopped strawberry and rice crispie treats on top of some original tart fro-yo on a 75-degree March evening?  And I didn't even have to suggest it???

You're welcome.