MollyMadonna.com

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if you can’t stand the heat… (57)

…get out of the kitchen. Or so the saying goes, right? It’s possible that I’ve taken this a tad too much to heart lately, which is why I’m here tonight with a plea for a little culinary inspiration from my friends.

It’s hot, is it not? I looooove hot summer days, but it turns out that a third pregnancy in the summer heat feels a tad different to me than a second (I thought being pregnant with Eloise in the summertime was fantastic), and I am giving it my all to embrace these consistently 90º temps paired with 32 weeks of baby in utero.

I’m spending a bit more time in the air conditioning than I’d hoped, and a little less in the sunshine. I want to be outside…so badly. But I’m also keenly aware that more than an hour or two of keeping up with our kiddos in the heat with this humidity will push me into a bad place in more ways than one. As such, this summer has been a humbling exercise in acknowledging my limitations and more thoughtfully managing my expectations, which has carried over as much into my kitchen as anywhere else in my life.

The peak heat of the day here usually falls shortly before dinner time. I don’t have any desire to turn the oven on, or to stand over a hot stove. My appetite is questionable at best by 5pm, and my people are hungry. None of us wants something heavy or hot to eat, but I know that if the meal I prep isn’t substantial enough, everyone will be asking for snacks long before bedtime.

I live with a trio of carnivores, but I could skip out on meat most days. Ground beef has been particularly off-putting for me this pregnancy, so even go to options like easy tacos or spaghetti are at the bottom of my list.

At this point in the summer, with the hot days unwavering and my culinary motivation waning to a terrible degree, I could use some fresh ideas. Jason and I will eat salads all day long (Jason if there’s significant protein in the mix), and Henry enjoys a decent repertoire of veggies, but our dairy free Eloise is not the biggest fan of anything green.

So. I need some help.

Do you have a favorite summer recipe that incorporates real, whole foods and requires less than an hour (or a 400º oven) to prepare? Do your kids absolutely love a summer meal that you’d be excited to pass on to me and my ever-hungry brood?

I’d love to add a handful of new recipes to our menu for the remaining weeks or months of summer, and I’m in need of a fresh dose of motivation. Ideas that incorporate helpers in the kitchen are very welcome–Eloise is often eager to play sous chef, and I love it when I have reasonable jobs for her to do at (almost) three years old.

And if you’re in the same boat as I am this summer, would you ask a friend and pass on any delightful tips they’re willing to share?

I want to love being in my kitchen again, and to arrive there before baby comes would be so great…for everyone who sits around our table in the evenings, really 😉

trying to avoid my own level of “hangry,”  but missing the mark,

mm

Please post or link your recipes/favorite foodie websites in the comments. Then we can all enjoy them together, and I can refer back to them with ease in the coming days. xo!

 

 

 

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never underestimate. (58)

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Someone was praying today. I felt it, steady and strong. There are days when life feels so out on a limb, and then there are days like this one, when instead, I have a continual sense of being surrounded.

Isn’t that something?

Last night I tried to ready my heart for the day ahead. I was cloudy and tired, and it felt like pushing up against an unmovable resistance. I knew that today would be a long day with Jason gone for work until after the kids were in bed. I also knew that we’d be without water usage from 8a-5p, making household chores and things we take for granted a bit more difficult.

I woke up this morning with the single motivation to have a shower before the water was out of commission. Eloise woke up with a pretty awful summer cold, and Henry woke up in a good mood. I suppose that made us 1.5 for 3, give or take. I suggested we get out the door early for bagels before dropping H off at camp for the morning, and we miraculously made it out the door by 8:30a.

I spilled water everywhere at the bagel shop, but the kids were happy, breakfast in hand. I indulged in a decaf latte. Henry went enthusiastically off to camp.

Eloise and I wandered a little further out of town to a vintage/antique/restored furniture shop in search of a dresser for baby. In spite of her clearly miserable nose and growing cough, she stayed in good spirits. She and her long, curly pigtails danced to music at the store and invited me to join in. Together, we measured dresser after dresser until we found a winner. Already painted in the perfect colors and boasting plenty of vintage charm, our newest addition to the nursery fit perfectly into the back of my car. Eloise was exemplary. We wandered about finding all of the farm animals on all of the items in every nook and cranny of the store, and it was delightful. I love my time with her.

I had high hopes of heading to our weekly park playdate after camp pick up, but by 11:30a, I was fairly done with the heat and Eloise was fading fast. The little whisper of, “It’s ok not to do it all” in the back of my mind in on the way home was enough for me to call a spade a spade. Not quite noon yet, it was pushing 85º. My dad, just back from a two week trip to Europe, was free to FaceTime, so instead of packing lunches quickly for the park, I slowed way down and found a place on the couch.

Today was exactly what it needed to be, and I never saw it coming.

Eloise snuggled. All day, with the exception of her nap time. The kids played. We visited with my dad and step mom for a long time and caught up on all that happens in two weeks between travel and kiddos and pregnancy and family life. We ate a late and leisurely lunch. Everyone rested.

Everyone.

Henry even admitted later that he “learned to like lounging while resting” today. The pace that the day set naturally was better than anything I could have contrived with all of my best laid plans and overzealous schemes.

We visited with Aunt Bridget and co. on FaceTime after naps. We ate sandwiches and hummus and veggies and the sweetest-ever plums in the living room for dinner, picnic style, per Eloise’s request. We read books and cleaned up spaces and worked through an entire box of kleenex with our sniffles and cuddled up together for stories before bed. And aside from the usual pre-bedtime antics, the littles settled into sleep without much resistance, which was heaven sent.

A 90º day without daddy or water–one that began with a cancelled playdate and more cancelled plans throughout the day, could have turned out much differently. I suppose I might have expected it to. But someone covered our day (and certainly my disposition) today in prayer, and God heard and answered.

I didn’t feel outside of myself like I’ve felt so readily in the heat of pregnancy and summer in recent days. I felt composed and level and far more like the mom and the me I want to be every day–the one that I fall short of more often than I want to admit.

There was peace and grace abundant for our little family today. In the most exasperating moments (sibling squabbles, crazy construction traffic and detours, heat, heat, and more heat, no flushing toilets…) I just felt settled.

The power of my belief in a sovereign God who hears our requests and answers them according to His will is overwhelming in the best way.

Really, there’s no reason why today was so composed and smooth, save that I believe someone (or multiple someones) lifted me up. We can never underestimate the power of our prayers and petitions to God, and we may never know just how they were answered in impacting ways for people we love and care about (or others we’ve never even met).

It’s humbling to serve a Creator who loves us enough to allow us a role in affecting change here on earth.

I am so thankful for today. For the unexpected delights, for time with my sweet girl, for Henry being Henry, and for time to connect with people I love. For living room picnics, nursery dressers, corporate rest time and twirling among antiques, today was unordinary out of ordinary. It was lemonade from lemons and unadulterated grace pouring out and over every crack and crevice and seam.

In the mess of the daily, I sometimes forget how powerful a God we serve. But He is Mighty, and He cares for us.

still twirling a little,

mm

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the emotional to do list. (63)

Maybe it’s because we started out with most of the things we’d need to welcome a new baby this time, but as the weeks go by, I’m noticing that my to do list in prep for baby number three is far more emotion driven and way less about what needs to happen around the house. There’s a list for that, too, and I sure would love to check off some boxes between now and mid-September, but I’m finding myself way more vested in taking care of the things that might make baby’s arrival a more smooth transition for my heart than for our home.

This bleeds into my desire to make things as gentle as possible for Henry and Eloise as they transition in their roles, too.

While tubs of baby clothes are sitting in the attic, wall decor for the nursery is stacked in baby’s closet, and several larger pieces of furniture have yet to shuffle to new spaces as we make room, my mind is much quicker to jump to other things–things like making sure we capture maternity pictures, getting the kids squared away with school and schedules for the fall, and, before baby comes, finishing some writing projects that really matter to me.

I care about the aesthetics of things. I do. I just know that our living room wall color or the replacement dining room rug aren’t going to mean a thing to me if life feels like a complete mess inside my head and heart. So I’m trying to place the energy I do have on being healthy from the inside, out, and letting the chips fall where they may on some of the physical things that would actually be more fun to address in the short term.

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In the exercise of minimizing our clutter and clearing out some physical space this summer, I find myself really challenged to keep decluttering while we get closer to baby’s estimated due date. It’s easy to want to add things to the nursery or to make changes to rooms in the house “before it’s too late and we never get to them,” instead of staying committed to letting more things go. While it’s definitely realistic that some tasks will be held off a bit when focus shifts to a new baby, it’s not as though life doesn’t change again once they’re mobile and more independent. We can certainly get back to projects then, and it’s doubtful anyone else will even notice they were on hold.

Letting go is not my natural tendency. I have to work hard at it. I want things a certain way, and I have visions in mind. Toning down my Pinterest-loving self and just being content with good enough is a stretching exercise for me, so that’s on my emotional list right now as much as anything else.

I’m doing all kinds of evaluating in this space where we’re likely eight or nine weeks out from snuggling our little love. How do I want to spend time with Henry and Eloise between now and then? What matters most to me? What can I do now that I definitely can’t once baby gets here? What are the non-negotiables, and what can wait?

I keep thinking about all of the moms and dads who welcome preemies into the world. Not only do they jump from baby prep mode into parenting mode well in advance, but they suddenly have potential health concerns, hospital bills, work schedules and care for other children to pile on top of the things they hoped to accomplish before baby arrived. Focus shifts from aesthetics to life-impacting choices that we don’t mix into paint colors and stroller styles and coming home outfits when we’re looking down the line to a due date.

More than ever, I really want to maintain perspective as we prep, even while I’m enjoying thoughts of baby getting closer and embracing the joy that comes with little steps toward baby along the way.

I want to be healthy in spirit–almost as much as I want to have a healthy delivery and a perfectly healthy baby. I don’t want to lose sight of the relationships that matter most to me or the things I need to keep in place to stay well myself (prayer, rest, time with the people I love, boundaries, exercise, chances to keep writing, sunshine).

A beautifully appointed, inviting nursery–one that’s just waiting to welcome baby–is a lovely thing. I’d be delighted to have baby’s room looking as I envision it before he or she ever spends time there. But an emotionally stable, sane mama–one who has bandwidth for this new stage that’s coming, for our other littles in tow, and for the curveballs that life throws often–is what I desire more than the completion of any other task or home project.

Heart space first. Physical space after.

I have a feeling baby will be more keenly aware of (and certainly more impacted by) my ability to love well over my ability to decorate well, anyway.

I’m so grateful for this third journey through pregnancy that’s allowing me to see even more of what really matters, and so thankful for the first two that have taught me well along the way. I’m always growing into this ever-changing role of motherhood, good days and bad days and every other kind of day in between.

keeping lists of all kinds while trying to keep myself in check,

mm

 

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preemptive cereal. (64)

I do not like being hungry, but most of all, I do not like being middle of the night, third trimester hungry. It’s the kind of pang that I can’t ignore; once I’m up, I’m up, so I’m inevitably fumbling through the pantry in the dark trying to figure out what will stave off another rude awakening for the rest of the night.

I don’t make great choices when I’m half awake, nor do I bust out any special culinary moves, so it’s usually a handful of trail mix or a too-sweet-for-bedtime Lara Bar to tide me over. Of all of the symptoms of pregnancy, the “my stomach may very well be eating itself” sensation is not my favorite. Whatever does the trick to negate it is acceptable, but I just don’t love eating in the dark at 3:30am (because it’s always, without fail, 3:30am). Our bodies are so fascinating.

At any rate, I’ve decided it’s far better to succumb to my own “fourth meal” of sorts before bedtime than to be coaxed awake by the grumblings of my hungry belly. Thus, when the third trimester is well on its way in each pregnancy, I bring back the bowl…the preemptive cereal bowl, that is.

It’s true that every night when I sit down to blog these pregnant days, I also pour myself a bowl of cereal. At this time of year, cheerios or anything really basic with fresh blueberries and almond milk take the cake. Tonight, I’m enjoying this as I write:

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The lighting is awesome, I know, and I threw in the striped towel for your viewing pleasure (you can thank me later), but you get the idea. Heaps of blueberries to beautify a plain old bowl of cheerios in my favorite almond milk. Proportions are key. The more berries, the better. A good, weighty bowl helps, too, and as Eloise can attest, a spoon that’s not too big but also not too small is essential.

Ladies and gents, we are off to the races.

I can buy myself a second wind with a good bowl of cereal. Not only that, but so far, I’ve avoided the hangry wake ups almost entirely this pregnancy, which is a win for cereals everywhere.

This boxed phenomenon is basically my pre-bedtime hero.

I know, I know. I shouldn’t eat much after the dinner hour, and my body should have time overnight to digest and rest, too. But no one and no thing can rest with a hunger so fierce as growing-a-human hungry. I’m just saying.

The preemptive cereal bowl is likely to stick around these parts for a while, what with 64 days to go in the countdown and plenty more days past that of nourishing another person around the clock. Can’t say that I mind it a bit, really, especially since it’s blueberry season here in the mitten.

If we run out, baby and I will just head back to the farm to pick some more!

Things that start with "b."

What’s your go to bedtime snack? I mean, I’m not likely to tire of the cereal routine anytime soon, but suggestions are always welcome. 😉

spoon in hand,

mm

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say what you want. (65)

Maybe you’ve seen the experiment where people have cut an apple in half, placed the two halves in separate jars, and spoken to each half with either all negative or all positive words for a few straight days or weeks? The apple that’s been spoken to negatively is always significantly more decayed and rotten, while the apple that’s been affirmed throughout is far less spotty or moldy, depending on how long the experiment has been carried out.

It’s either terribly interesting, or terribly frightening, or both.

I believe so much in the power of words, and more so all of the time. The things we say have the ability to break someone else down or build them up. I also believe strongly that our words are capable of altering our future circumstances, for better or for worse.

I think about this a lot in pregnancy, because I know that there is a very impressionable little person growing within earshot of everything I say (and at all times). This wouldn’t carry so much weight with me, except that I’ve witnessed the impact of my thoughts and words in birth twice now. As baby’s due date grows closer, I’m eager to make a third attempt at shaping how he or she comes into the world.

To do this, I need to be really intentional with what I say to our baby (and what I tell myself, too) between now and September. This is hard for me to express well in a blog post, but before I start sounding all crazy, I’ll try to explain.

For starters, I’ll just suggest that there’s no possible harm in speaking positivity and life over a baby in utero. There’s no risk to anyone when I work to think carefully about baby’s birth and what I hope it will look like, but as I’ve experienced, there is potential reward.

I love this fact. I feel more powerful in birth because of this fact. The possibility that I could positively impact a birth experience for both baby and myself is fascinating and exhilarating. I know that I’m not the one in control of all things by any means. I also know that it doesn’t hurt to try to nudge things in the direction I’m hoping by keeping my chin up, by mothering our baby through thoughts, words and prayer long before he or she enters the world, and by entering into the space of labor and delivery with a strong trust in my body’s innate ability to work with my baby, and vice versa.

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Twice now, beautiful things have happened when I’ve spoken calm, direct, peaceful things over our children as their birthdays approached. It lends hope to think that, with some intentional effort put in before baby arrives, we could have another peaceful birthing day again.

I’ve gotten a few sideways glances whenever I share that our babies have come as I’ve invited them to, but it’s true. I try to be as keyed into my pregnancies as possible, and although it gets harder with each baby because there’s more going on at home with other siblings, I do desire to connect with and encourage our babies as they get ready to enter the world.

I think about the vast number of changes a tiny human goes through when their skin first feels that rush of cold air upon delivery and directly following. So many hands moving them around, holding them, wiping them, poking them. I think about the feeling of cloth on skin for the first time, the scratchiness of a diaper, the sensation of a hat placed on their head. What does it feel like to leave the only space you’ve ever known…warm, dark, somewhat without gravity…and to suddenly be introduced to bright lights, plastic hospital cribs, loud sounds and a separation from mama for the very first time?

hello world

We’ve all made it through, obviously, but how can the process be the most gentle for these precious little babies of ours? I desire so much for our children to make a peaceful entrance into this world.

I know that there are circumstances outside of our control, and that sometimes medical urgency necessitates a different path from a more gentle birth environment, but I sure am going to try to speak one over baby’s birthday, anyway. I love to tell our kiddos that the world is ready for them when the time is right. I love encouraging them that they will be welcomed into a safe, loving place in our family. I love talking to them through labor–my first chance as their mama to encourage them through a hard transition.

I say what I want and what I mean leading up to our babies’ births, because I know how I hope things will go, and I don’t think it can hurt in the least bit to articulate beliefs and wishes for the benefit of our babes as they’re born.

Sometimes I forget just how powerful our words and thoughts can be…how defeating the negative self talk or the focus on the impossibilities instead of the possible ones.

This week in this pregnancy has reopened the space for me to feel confident that I can speak life over our sweet baby again. With each pregnancy, I’ve gone through seasons of feeling incapable, ill-suited, discouraged and shushed over this conviction, but it always returns as things move along.

God connected us to our babies and our babies to us in so many beautiful and miraculous ways. I mean, goodness! An entire organ develops within us as we carry them, just to facilitate the life giving process that is taking place. It’s amazing and amazingly humbling, and yet, it’s clear that we were meant to function as essential players, welcoming these important young lives here on earth with as much thoughtfulness and care as we can muster.

Our words matter. They matter from before our babies our born until long after they’ve grown. I’m going to say what I want to be reality for my children because it can’t hurt, but it might help. And my words can bring life or decay–I’m sure of that. Just knowing this truth is a beautiful and weighty thing.

God created mamas with the ability to shepherd children. And I have no doubt that He gives us the intuition we gain while expecting and forever after–to love, protect and guide our babies through our thoughts, words and prayers that have the power to shape circumstances for so much good.

I’ve learned to say what I want, and by the same token, I’m always learning to think through whether or not I actually want what I say.

I want a peaceful birth for this baby.

I want to be surrounded by people who speak life and truth while I’m in labor.

I want to trust my body and to know that it is capable of delivering a healthy baby again.

I want our baby to know that he or she is safe and welcome here.

And I want to live without unnecessary fear over any part of the process.

being stretched by pregnancy all of the time, and it’s good. i really mean that.

mm