Hickmans at Home

Working Mom: The Prelude

My maternity leave is coming to an end and I’m freaking out.

I love my job. Like, love my job. For eight-plus years I have worked 60+ hour weeks and still been excited to go back every day (well, except for a rough stint in late 2018 but that’s a story for another day). I have had the privilege of growing with a company I believe in and getting to build a team that I believe in even more. I rarely take vacations and my coworkers tease me about being online on my days off. I always knew, though, that there was one thing that would make me take a step back – one thing to slow me down just enough to make all the whirlwind leading up mean something a little extra. I always planned to be a mom and knew I would take a significant maternity leave. What I wasn’t prepared for was how emotional I would get about getting ready to go back to work.

Let me first say, I am (as in so many other ways) lucky and privileged with regard to maternity leave. My state has an amazing leave program, as does my company. My husband’s job has been only somewhat affected by COVID (due both to luck and to the good reputation he has built for himself). These have afforded me the opportunity to take almost five months of leave, for which I am eternally grateful. Spending this time with my baby girl, learning how to be a mom and resetting so many of my own habits and goals has been more important than I could have imagined. We all joked that I was going to go crazy at home without work, and I was genuinely surprised when that wasn’t the case. I will say, though, that having grown-up work-related conversations (the few occasions they’ve come up) has definitely felt good, which is heartening. I’m in my last month of leave now, and while I have always had my return to work on the back of my mind, these days it’s more often, if not a sign directly in front of my face, at least a flashing billboard in my peripheral vision.

The anxiety surrounding returning to work hit hard just before Thanksgiving. In August, preparing to go out on leave, the holidays seemed distant – an eternity away from where I was then. Time moves so fast, though, and it seems to be speeding up more and more as the days go on. Thanksgiving always signals the beginning of the end of the year for me, and as lame as 2020 has been in a lot of ways (baby E’s arrival being a big asterisk), I am not quite sure I’m ready for it to end. I had a hard time locating the root cause of my anxiety, however. As I said, I love my job. I am not sad about going back to it. While getting paid to be a mom is lovely, it can’t go on forever – though that would be sweet. I spent a fair amount of time trying to figure out exactly what about going back to work was making me so scared. Then, it hit me: I had to realize that going back to work did not mean that I had to give back my baby.

I know that this might sound totally ridiculous. Of course I don’t have to give back the baby, what a stupid thing to say. But here’s the thing: me working has never involved me being a parent. I worked (albeit increasingly pregnant for the last several months) and then I was a mom. The two are separated in my brain. So, my anxiety is telling me that they’re binary options – my picture of what I know of me at work does not already include my baby. I know this isn’t accurate, and I’m confident that I will be just as strong of a parent whilst working as I have been at home, but still – it’s hard. I remind myself often – “You don’t have to give her back. You get to keep her,” and I cry. Writing this, I am crying. (Fun fact, I rarely cried before giving birth, and almost never while I was pregnant. I’m pretty much the biggest sap ever at this point. Thanks, hormones!)

I think the tears are equal parts joy, relief, and worry: I am so thankful to have this kid, after wanting for her for so long. I am nervous to navigate the new frontier of daycare, babysitting, pumping at work and trying to make sure that I get home on time (something at which I have historically been The Worst). I have already decided that we have to delay daycare for at least a week because there’s just no way I can emotionally handle dropping her off with strangers (qualified, caring strangers, but still) and going back to work on the same day. I would become an actual puddle of emotions in my car in the daycare parking lot and not make it any further, I’m sure. To be honest, that might still happen but at least it won’t be on my very first day back.

I am going to come out of leave more organized (which is a little terrifying), more creative, and more determined than I went into it. I truly believe that my experience as a parent will only strengthen my abilities as a manager (luckily, my boss shares the same philosophy). I am excited to put all of this into practice, and I’m so incredibly proud of the team that has been running the show while I’ve been out. I look forward to getting back to work and to building a new routine. I love picturing Rick picking the baby up every day and taking her home to play until I arrive. Most of all, I can’t wait for hugs and kisses and snuggles when I walk in the door in the evening, just like I used to give my dad when he got home.

I know that there will be nights that are not so happy, when any one (or more…) of us is cranky or sick or I am home late or something else I haven’t thought of yet goes wrong. I still have a few weeks to worry about all the things that could possibly happen, never fear. In the meantime, though, I am going to do my absolute best to make the days last as long as I can and to make sure that I’m making them count, but not treating them as The End. This isn’t the end, after all. I’ve got this kid for keeps, and we’re only just getting started.

My Boobs are Tired

Reason #58943 that women are magical, confusing, frustrating beings. Also I really, really wanted to title this “Tough Tits” – sorry, Mom.

Breastfeeding is super hard, y’all. Even when it’s easy and everything goes to plan. This is one of those things that doesn’t get discussed nearly enough in the pregnancy-related-sphere, in my opinion. Other topics in this category include infertility, pregnancy loss, and postpartum changes – all of which are super important, but which are not today’s focus.* Up until I started doing pre-pregnancy research and, really, probably until we’d been trying for about a year and I was starting to get ~~obsessive~~ ~~intense~~ more serious about my research, I had just taken it for granted that breastfeeding was A Thing That You Do. As it turns out, very much not the case. There are a million reasons why breastfeeding may not be an option (or just might not work out), and they are all valid and understandable and okay. That doesn’t make it easier, even though it should.

As someone with a high baseline anxiety level, pregnancy was a master course in doing my best to let go of things that I couldn’t control and focus on what I could. I worked really hard to focus on the things that I knew were going right, rather than spending my time being terrified of what could show up on the next ultrasound or blood test. In the end, I was very lucky and everything went smoothly, but you’d better believe my poor brain is already thinking about all the things that could go wrong next time around. For me, breastfeeding was pretty high on the list of things that I was hoping would work out with my pregnancy. My list wasn’t long – I was hoping not to be induced (I was, but I was on board at that point), I thought perhaps I’d give non-medicated childbirth a go (I changed my mind pretty quickly when I started throwing up from contractions), and I wanted to breastfeed my baby. Pretty glad that I got one of the three, but honestly, I would have taken none and a healthy kid, really. Anything beyond that is just a bonus.

One of the things that both Rick and I were pretty shocked about in the hospital was the general lack of instruction given to us by the nurses after I gave birth. I mean, I appreciate that they were not micromanaging our parenting, and overall we had a really positive birth experience (made myself throw up in my mouth a little with that phrase, but we’ll go with it), but there were a lot of moments where we were very glad for all the research we had done ahead of time so that we had a general framework and could ask questions like “We’re supposed to make sure she eats every 2-3 hours, right?” This happened with breastfeeding, too. A couple of moments after E was born, I said “I think she’s hungry…” and the response was basically, “Good, okay, you can feed her.” UM, OKAY. I’ll get right on doing that thing that I’ve never done before.

Luckily (again, a theme here), baby girl was very hungry and determined to eat. We did okay, but over the next day or so, despite religiously salving up my chest, I started to audibly gasp in pain every time she latched on. The lactation consultant (who was very sweet but called me “mama” every ten seconds and thankfully couldn’t see my grimace under my mask) told me that this was pretty normal and likely due to E having a shallow latch. She told me we’d get the hang of it, offered some tips for other positions, and advised to just to keep pressing on in the meantime. I had a “good side” and a “bad side” and I had to mentally psyche myself up every time it was time to feed from the “bad side” because there would be a moment of very real, very intense pain that was off-putting, to say the least. Eventually, it did get better, but man… not a good time. Poor Rick did well to offer sympathetic looks and pats throughout.

Over time, we (the baby and I) got the hang of our routine. She was hungry all the time, so I fed her all the time. I chose my clothes based on what would be easiest access for her, and what I didn’t care about ruining when I inevitably leaked all over. I started wondering if I should just go topless because what was the point. My key activities in any given day were diaper changes, nursing, and saying “I have to pee” every time I stood up. As much as I relished the bond that breastfeeding was building, I started to get exhausted. Every time I woke up at night, I had soaked through my environmentally-conscious reusable nipple pads, so I was always sort of sticky and uncomfortable. I felt like every time I did anything, it was time to feed the baby again. I referred (and still do) to baby E as my little limpet, firmly secured to my boob. I fully recognize that these are problems that lots of women would love to have, and honestly, I am thankful in many ways (and was even at the time – I’d wake up soaked and grumpy, but thankful that I was producing). It’s still hard, though. Things that you’re grateful for, lucky to have, etc. can still be challenging and frustrating. It’s okay to be excited and scared or thankful and frustrated at the same time. You feel all the feelings you want too, boo.

While I’m still doing my best to figure out what works best for us in an ever-changing situation (current I-promise-I’m-not-trying-to-brag “problem”: baby is sleeping 10-11 hours at night resulting in me waking up with a very sore, very swollen chest every morning), a few things did help. On the ever-wise advice of AlphaMom (whose pregnancy calendar my big sister shared with me right at the beginning, for which I will always be grateful) I switched out the reusable nursing pads for the disposable ones and their more diaper-like absorption. Worked a treat. We also introduced a pacifier at about three weeks and a bottle shortly thereafter. This gave the baby an option of something else to suck on when she was not reeeeally hungry any more (and gave my poor boobs a break), as well as provided a way for my husband to feed her if I really just needed a nap that lasted longer than half an hour. I will forever be grateful to our past selves for doing this, because it made my unexpected health issues infinitely easier to deal with – we handed over a bag of frozen milk and a bottle to Gramma and I didn’t have to worry about that part of the situation. I did have a horrible (though mildly hilarious) having-to-pump-in-the-ER experience, but I got through it.

All of this is to say: there are so many things in life, but I think particularly in motherhood (and the path to it), that we take for granted as straightforward and simple. Breastfeeding is not easy, even when it has every reason to be. I still pick an outfit every day based on my ability to nurse in it, and I still don’t sleep in some of my comfiest tops because I don’t want to stain them – just in case. I sobbed the other day because the baby was crying and didn’t want to eat, choosing instead to just hit my chest and scream. She was overtired – too tired to want to eat, but hungry enough not to want to go to sleep. I felt like a failure – even though the logical part of me knew what was happening and knew how to fix it, the emotional hang-up of the baby rejecting food – rejecting me – was painful.

So please, be kind to moms. That includes yourself. Whatever you’re going through that is “supposed” to be easy, but isn’t – it’s okay to be frustrated and exhausted and sad. It’s okay to try something different if you need to. You’d better believe that baby girl would have been eating formula while I was in the hospital if I didn’t happen to have a stash of frozen milk at the ready.

Finally, everyone: leave women who are breastfeeding in public the EFF alone. That shit is hard to orchestrate and we’re just trying to make sure our kid gets fed. Would you rather she scream in the restaurant/waiting room/etc.? Yeah, didn’t think so.

The end!

* I highly recommend Mama Doctor Jones on YouTube (and Instagram, and Twitter), if you’re interested in diving in to some of these topics. She’s amazing.

Stepford by The Sea

Don’t be fooled into thinking I think this is a bad thing.

Have you ever thought to yourself “I wish that I could visit Stepford,” or “I wonder what being in the Truman Show would be like”? No? Just me? Ah, well. If you’re like me and you have mused these musings, good news! There is a town on the Washington coast where you can experience glimmers of both of these universes, as well as a dash of Blazing Saddles (you know, the part where they build facades of a whole town overnight) and, ok, also some idyllic and relaxing small-town charm.

Seabrook is located just about a mile south of Pacific Beach and 15 miles north of Ocean Shores. You can read all about the town’s offerings and history on their website, but my Cliff’s Notes version is that the town was established in 2004 and is a highly-planned community. There are “neighborhoods” within the larger town itself, and it is designed to be self-contained and walkable, with restaurants, a market, etc. – I will admit that it is hard to want to leave once you’re up on the hill, ensconced in the environment.

While some of the homes are owned by full-time residents, most are available for rent through Seabrook Cottage Rentals, which provides a consistent and well-managed experience. We have visited both in the summer and in the winter, and each season has its own benefits. During the summer, walking and exploring are much more enticing, and there is a lot more going on in the town. To be fair, our summer visit was in 2019, so there was a farmer’s market, outdoor music, and no social distancing requirements. We were there for my sister-in-law’s wedding, and we got to embrace the community aspect of the town, particularly since we stayed in a rental very close to the Town Hall. We put lawn games out in front of our house, and it was amusing to see passers-by stopping to help themselves to a game of giant jenga or (regular-sized) cornhole. This is just the way that the place is set up – there are community bocce ball courts and fire pits, so seeing lawn games out is another invitation to play. We walked from our rental to the Friday night concert (a Heart cover band) with drinks in hand, stepping away to the cliffside to watch the sun set. It was lovely.

Our winter visit had a decidedly more “cozy” vibe – it stormed and rained all three days we were visiting, with brief respites of blue sky punctuated by sudden hail storms. Still, we bundled up and walked around the town, enjoying watching the ocean froth and churn. Back at the rental, we snuggled by the fire, played cards, and made the very cold (but blissfully short!) hustle between the house and the private hot tub. We had talked about making trips to Ocean Shores or Pacific Beach to do some light exploring, but it was hard to want to venture out when we were so comfortable. Next time!

You may be thinking, “This all sounds pretty nice – why the weird comparisons at the beginning?” Well, because, it’s kind of weird. Nice, but odd. Seabrook is very well planned: all the houses are similar, but not exactly the same; the neighborhoods have cute names, as do the homes – things like “Sea You at The Beach” and “Waves of Love”*; there’s a pasture with horses and ducks, and a promise of a country inn – you get the idea. Everything is lovely and charming and then, all of a sudden, you get to the end. There’s a point at which the houses stop and the construction starts, and it’s just very jarring. It feels like you’ve reached the edge of the world and someone is going to appear and tell you you have to turn around and go back, or a sudden wind is going to blow you away or something. I totally get that this is unavoidable with the way that the town is being built, I just find it an amusing facet of the whole experience.

All said, I have thoroughly enjoyed all three of my visits to Seabrook, and fully intend on going back. It’s fun to get to see different areas of town, and to pick which home to stay in (even if it has a saccharine name). I think the experience is best shared with family or friends – it’s nice to have a group to do things with, as there are some limitations to the activities directly available (especially since the pool and gym are closed due to COVID). With a little imagination, though, you can always have a chuckle – Rick told me he kept expecting to hear a hidden loudspeaker indicating the simulation was about to restart. Perhaps we, like Seabrook, are nice, but odd.

*These aren’t actual house names, but you get the idea. Ocean-related wordplay abounds.

Cocoa Break

A public service announcement.

Have you had a cup of cocoa recently? No? Go drink one. I highly recommend Swiss Miss with some whipped cream (real whipping cream with a splash of vanilla mixed in, if you can, to balance out the powdered cocoa). That’s it, that’s the blog. Drink a cup of cocoa, curl up in a blanket, and just chill for as long as you can get away with.

Soap is Super Soothing

Ruining my recommended algorithm across all platforms, yet again.

There are few things on the internet that bring me as much joy as the Lonely Island SNL Digital Shorts. “I’m On a Boat,” “I Just Had Sex” and “D**k in a Box” were instant classics, but “Lazy Sunday” will always be my favorite. To this day, I cannot watch it without getting fits of giggles. They’re just having so much fun! I was therefore enchanted to learn (via Wikipedia, of course) that “Lazy Sunday” helped to launch YouTube as a platform, as a result of its viral success.*

I don’t pay enough to embed the video, so please just enjoy this magic.

As I have previously mentioned, I love YouTube. Like many, my original introduction to YouTube was watching viral videos of cute cats. I saw the platform as a place to find funny meme videos for years, not really thinking about it as anything more significant. I uploaded my own version of “David After Dentist” called “Kayvon After Wisdom Teeth.” It’s a magical tale of a young Iranian man discussing airplanes and his dream to be a ninja, but he’s got a political career now and a law degree so I think I won’t link it, just to be safe. Aside from the quick-laugh content, though, I didn’t pay a lot of attention to the other parts of YouTube, until one day I came across a KathleenLights video. I looked back – I watched “Liquid Lipstick Collection | BATTLE OF THE LIQUID LIPPIES” on June 4, 2016. I actually suspect that this was as a result of watching Safiya Nygaard (then at Buzzfeed) detail her at-work liquid lipstick collection. Which is pretty amazing, but I’ll get to that in a second.

KathleenLights introduced me to the world of beauty YouTubers. I learned about makeup palettes and how to do my eyeshadow, which was pretty exciting. I enjoyed watching their tutorials and reviews. Over the years, I’ve moved away from watching this kind of content, as it as largely turned into subtle (or not-so-subtle) product commercials and then devolved into drama, which I just can’t deal with. I do love a good makeup collection declutter, though. I started watching Jenna Marbles, Simply Nailogical, Taylor Wynn, and Threadbanger as a way to de-stress.

What does all of this have to do with soap, though? Well, when the aforementioned Safiya Nygaard left Buzzfeed she quickly became my favorite creator on YouTube. Her videos are smart, well-produced and -researched and funny. When she made “I Tried Following a Soap Art Tutorial“, she talked about the “satisfying footage” of soap art tutorials as she embarked on her “fancy soaping quest.” At the time, I didn’t really get it – I enjoyed her video, but didn’t get any farther than that. Safiya made a follow up – “I Tried Following A Soap Cupcake Tutorial,” and I had the same reaction. Third time is the charm, though – when “I Tested Clickbait DIY Soap Hacks” came out, it hit at the perfect intersection of quarantine and maternity leave. Saf linked to Katie Carson’s “Professional Soap Maker Reacts to Viral Soap Hacks” and I fell down the rabbit hole that is Royalty Soaps (another cool woman-owned/-run business!).

There are currently 569 videos on Katie’s channel, dating back to 2013. The early videos seem to be a variety of reviews and soap making, but over time she has really come into her own with the satisfying soap pouring videos. I will admit that from time to time I do fast-forward through the lye-pouring and some of the piping, but the soap designs and (particularly) the slicing of the final product are just so very soothing. I appreciate the care and attention that Katie (and other soap makers on YouTube) put in to their products. I have formed opinions on my preferred designs and techniques. I ordered some soap-making supplies. It’s a whole thing now. I suppose this is my maturing taste – from memes to beauty videos to pregnancy blogs to artisan crafts. Sprinkle in the odd “how to clean your vacuum” video and you’ve arrived at the essence of why I think YouTube is so wonderful – you can find someone to teach you or show you just about anything you need to know, in the same place that you can watch something that will make you cry tears of laughter on a day you need it. Like anywhere on the internet, there are some not-so-nice things about YouTube, but let’s just focus on the positive. After all, it’s 2020 and right now, if watching soap dry is your jam – go for it. YOLO.

* Andy Samberg seems to reference this in the only-slightly-less-wonderful “Lazy Sunday 2” when he says “still waitin’ on my YouTube check.” Yes, I rewatched all the digital shorts while writing this.

Amazon “No Ragrets” Purchases

I clicked through almost 100 pages of orders for this, ok? Also, I know how to spell regrets.

My Amazon order history is not a place I often look. It’s lengthy and a little frightening – it appears that I generally place about 200 orders per year. Yikes. In my defense, that does include a lot of orders placed for work, as well as orders placed by my husband, but still. As I went back through all my old orders (dating back to 2010 when I got my own Prime account), I chuckled at a few things and groaned at a lot more. The worst part was realizing that there were all kinds of things that I either disliked or know I never used, but that I don’t seem to have returned. At one point, I had an “Oh well, it’s already spent” mindset, meaning that I rarely put in the effort to return an item. Now, I’m the queen of returns. It’s a very easy switch, but makes a remarkable financial impact. Groundbreaking, I know.

Aside from the large volume of post-its, garbage bags, and hang tags I order for work, there were a few other trends I noticed. Rick orders a pair of boots about once a year. There was a bittersweet period (no pun intended) where I was ordering copious pregnancy and ovulation tests. For a while in 2015/early 2016 we ordered a LOT of canine antidiarrheals. Please, ask me about how much fun that was. In all of those orders, I was hoping that I’d find a few items that I absolutely love, so that I could pass along the recommendations. Luckily, I did. Here are some of my tried-and-true products – things in my history that I think are worth the buy, and why. I’ve listed them below for quick access (in case you don’t want to read all my thoughts about all the things).

Blackout Curtains – For the vampire in your life!
Fabric Shaver – Soooooo satisfying.
Screen Door Repair Kit – A niche product, but just what you need, if you need it.
Lunch Box – Take it to your home office for a little extra fun in your day!
Keyboard – I feel strongly about this.
Zit Stickers – Not the least gross paragraph I’ve ever written.
Laundry Hamper – Further fulfilling your domestic dreams.
Phone Case – Because I don’t know how people can live on the edge and go naked.
Notebook – Living out my Harriet the Spy dreams.

First, these blackout curtains. We have a lot of experience with blackout curtains in this house – for a long time, Rick worked nights. We tried lesser curtains (plus the blinds on the window) with no success. The current variety we have in our room came from Costco, I think, and they’re fine. We had another mediocre set in the nursery, but last week I decided they just weren’t cutting it. We have followed the Taking Cara Babies courses since E was born (I HIGHLY recommend them – worth absolutely every penny), and one of her recommendations is to make sure that there’s as little light as possible in baby’s sleeping environment. We definitely had limited the amount of light in the nursery (where E naps), but baby girl is almost three months old and after a few days of very, very poor sleep I had had it. I ordered these curtains and prayed they would work. While I don’t think they were the magic answer, they absolutely do their job. Like, as someone who hates blackout curtains, I am kind of annoyed at how well they work. I have to open the window during the day because otherwise it feels like we have a cave in our house – they’re heavy and noise-muffling and just all-around solid, for a reasonable price.

Next up: the perfect gift for the neatest person in your life (though they might already have it) – a fabric shaver. I am only sort of joking – I love this thing. I gleefully took it to our couch the first day it arrived. My husband teased me when I used it on his Nike joggers, but the next time he put them on he had to admit that they looked like new. I was putting away a load of laundry the other night and ran into some unfortunate pilling, so I got myself my fabric defuzzer and went to town as, Rick said, “one does on a Saturday night.” It’s a lot of fun, and very satisfying. Definitely worth the $12.

Less fun, but perhaps even more satisfying, is this screen door repair kit. When we moved in, there was a tear in one of our screen doors. The tear itself was about 6″, but had been sewn up as a temporary repair. This worked fine for us for a couple of years, until a friend’s dog decided to put herself through the door. Then, we had a giant flap in the screen. We got this cool pet door (from Chewy, not Amazon) and cobbled it together so that Carl could go in and out. That worked fine for another couple of months, but since the door was already damaged, it didn’t do a great job of holding on. I spent some time searching for costs on new screen doors (which of course segued into window shopping for new sliding doors, French doors, etc.), but everything looked very expensive. Then, Rick discovered this repair kit. It took us under an hour to do the whole repair, including re-installing the pet door, for under $20. It was not an entirely painless process – I smashed my finger and was pretty over the whole thing after about 15 minutes – but Rick was able to finish it up on his own, so take that as a good sign.

Rick has always been good about taking a lunch to work. This is primarily driven, I think, by the fact that he doesn’t have much of a choice. The places he is working and the way his breaks are set up, he’s not got a lot of time to run out and get food. Plus, when he was paying $15/day for parking, the added expense of lunch really just isn’t that appealing. Years ago, he bought a lunch box, and it was fine, but he was always rather frustrated with it. Only the smallest of our food storage containers would fit into it, and only one. When COVID hit and he was furloughed, I started taking lunch to work – largely because I didn’t want to make my usual trips to the grocery store during my lunch break and partly because the leftovers Rick used to take were now going into my lunch box. I refused, however, to use his lunch box, so I got one of these. It’s amazing – it keeps food really cold, fits a large ice pack, and can fit a square container, plus a yogurt, cheese sticks, etc. When Rick went back to work, we got him a matching lunch box and we have been happy campers ever since.

I love to type. I was all about the AlphaSmart in third grade, and I have continued to hone my skills in the years since. I like to say that I type with purpose. I am, as a result, a bit of a keyboard snob. I do love the idea of a mechanical keyboard but I am hyper-sensitive to the amount of noise that they cause (especially with my aggressive typing) and don’t feel like I could bring one of those to the workforce. My office provides horrible solar Logitech K750s by default, but they are flat and make my wrists hurt. Yeah, I get sore wrists from typing. I’m that lady. Therefore, my work keyboard of choice is the Logitech K350, which conveniently still pairs with my mouse and any other dongle in the office, is full size, has nice key response, and is more ergonomic. I’m on my third one in seven years, but I think that says more about my purposeful typing and the occasional pho spill on the keys than it does about the quality of the keyboard itself.

I could write a whole post on anxious tics, but that’s for another day. Suffice it (for now) to say that I am not good at not picking at my nails, eyebrows, skin, etc. particularly when I’m anxious. So, these zit stickers (more elegantly called hydrocolloid patches) serve two purposes. First, they actually do what they say they are going to, which is absorb gunk and reduce the size and appearance of pimples. Second, they’re like having a band-aid on your face, without having an obvious band-aid on your face. It’s a tactile reminder to pick at your zit, while also providing protection. Plus, at the end of the day (or in the morning or whatever) you get to peel it off, which is itself very satisfying. These are great, I’ll stop talking about zits now. You’re welcome.

Here’s a thrilling purchase: a laundry hamper. I know, I’m a lot of fun. We got a new dresser about a year ago, and my previous hamper situation suddenly didn’t fit in its spot. I searched something like “narrow laundry hamper” and this is what Amazon spit back at me. It’s awesome. I like that there is a frame, so that the hamper itself always stays in one place (though it does have wheels if you want to get a little crazy), but I can take the canvas bags in and out as needed. As discussed, I rarely sort my laundry any more, but when I do, this is a good system. I’m not sure anyone is putting a hamper on their Christmas list, but if they are, it should be this one.

I don’t consider myself a clumsy person, in general (though my husband might disagree). I do, however, seem to have a penchant for throwing my phone across the room unexpectedly. Also, dropping it on my face, but that’s a separate issue. (Do you ever have those moments when your hands just forget that they’re supposed to be holding whatever they’re holding? No? Just me? Ok.) In any event, I drop my phone a lot, but I refuse to put on a giant TACTICAL MEGA SAFE phone case. Instead, I have entrusted my last three phones to this Spigen case. It’s slim, relatively lightweight, and most importantly, actually works. I am a little scared to write this, just in case I jinx myself, but it really is worthwhile. A comparable OtterBox is in the $70 range – the Spigen is under $20. Plus, the Spigen comes with a screen protector – that’s a $40-50 add-on with OtterBox.

Finally, let’s talk about this Black n’ Red notebook. I’m a notebook junkie – I have many, many half-filled notebooks in various places. I really enjoy taking notes, but it can be frustrating to try and take notes in a crappy notebook. Which is why this wire-bound, hard-backed, large-sized version is so wonderful. I have literally bought these as gifts. The paper is nice, you can write on it anywhere because the hard cover acts as a sort of clipboard, the spiral-bound-ness means that it lays flat and can fold back on itself, the pages are perforated so they pull away cleanly – I could go on and on. It’s a great notebook. I highly recommend it for all your note-taking, journaling, documenting, and list-making needs. As a bonus, when I ran a Google search for this notebook, I stumbled across The Pen Addict, which is just… magic. My name is Maddy Hickman and I love office supplies.

So there you go – my most worthwhile Amazon purchases. While some of these aren’t really things that I will need to buy over and over, I would if I had to. I considered putting together a “very ragrets” list, but really it would just consist of: Soylent (I went through a phase), lingerie of questionable quality/fit (there’s literally nothing that will make you feel less attractive), and pretty much any women’s clothing that wasn’t Amazon Essentials brand (it smelled funny/didn’t fit/fell apart immediately). I think there’s a way somewhere to see the total you’ve spent on Amazon, but… no. Life is already hard enough, I don’t need to add that stress to my life. The end.

None of the links in this post are sponsored/affiliate links.

This Week I Made: Soup & Cookies

I don’t cook, except for when I do.

As has been discussed, I don’t cook much. In my defense, there is some history to this. I know how to cook and, in fact, I even enjoy it (most of the time). When my husband and I started dating, he literally didn’t know how to make pasta. Which, for someone who loves pasta as much as I do, was a little problematic. However, Rick’s approach to cooking and food was (and still is) to jump in with both feet, asking questions as he falls. About two weeks after we started officially dating, he decided that he wanted to wow me with a home-cooked steak dinner. I don’t know if he researched – I know darn well he didn’t work off of a recipe. All I know is that there was a lot of sautéing and that we ended up with perfectly edible steaks. I expressed the appropriate oohs and ahs and started myself on the path of never having to cook dinner again.

For a while, we split cooking duties. I remember making chicken roll-ups, crêpes, and lamb burgers. Rick made some teriyaki at one point which I remember describing as having “too many flavors” – again, no recipes, just throwing stuff at the wall and seeing what stuck. In this case, everything stuck. He dialed it back. Over time, when we discussed what we wanted to have for dinner, I’d suggest something that I could make and then he’d say “Or, we could have… [insert something he wanted to make here].” Eventually, I stopped offering. We have now settled into a happy routine where he cooks what he wants and every once in a while I decide that I am making something, darn it, and I go to town.

This week, I had two of those moments. First, I decided I was going to make chocolate chip cookies. Nothing special, just the recipe on the back of the Nestle bag (and linked here). I had all the ingredients and was ready to go, so when Rick told me to “do something fun for myself” while the baby napped, I decided that cookies was the move. Five seconds later, when E started fussing, I chuckled hearing Rick comfort her: “Shhh, it’s ok. Shhh, go back to sleep, Dad wants cookies!”

I happily set about putting together my cookie dough. Now, I’m not trying to flex on my KitchenAid mixer but… it is so choice. If you have the means, I highly recommend picking one up. In my case, two people purchased KitchenAids for my mom for Christmas, and I reaped the benefits. It is so worth it, though. Whipping cream, blending butter and sugar, kneading dough – all the things. I will admit that it regularly flings bits of ingredients around my kitchen and I’m not 100% sure of the most effective way to clean it, but those are small potatoes compared to the glee it provides me. Plus, I’m convinced it’s partially the reason these cookies turned out so well. I’m not the most patient blender, otherwise. In any event, I whumped everything together, added the walnuts (it is non-negotiable to have nuts in chocolate chip cookies – unless there’s a tree nut allergy in play, I’m not a monster) and baked ’em up. Here’s the result:

Oooh, ahhh. I took some to my mom’s house and also froze about a dozen, just to slow us down on eating them. That plan sort of worked. Sorry, I’m back, I just went down to the freezer to get a cookie. Oops.

In any event, I was feeling like I needed to balance out my cookies with something a little healthier, but I wasn’t sure what. I was waiting for inspiration to strike while browsing Facebook when I came across a wonderful thread that someone had started in a local community page. The woman started a conversation about what people were cooking or baking now that the colder weather had set in, and one of the responses (among many amazing suggestions) was this recipe for broccoli cheddar soup. I have always loved broccoli cheddar soup (one of the very few soups I like at all), but it’s generally not exactly what I would call a healthy choice. I got very excited about the idea of a cauliflower base taking the place of a roux – I am a big cauliflower-replacement fan in general. (Trader Joe’s cauliflower mashed potatoes with some garlic added in? Yes, please.)

I picked a day to make my soup, gathered up all my ingredients, and set to work. I got off to a bit of a rocky start, letting my oil get too hot – I had been sautéing (burning) the onions and garlic for about five minutes when my visiting mother-in-law asked me if I wanted a window opened. I replied that I already had one opened and was a little frustrated at her suggestion that I might need another (I know, I’m burning the onions!) – until I turned around and saw that I had filled the dining room and living room with a light layer of smoke. Oops. “Yes, please, open the sliding door.”

Once I got the burning under control, things went smoothly. I successfully used my immersion blender, but I did have to add about two extra cups of stock in order to thin out the mixture to the point where it wasn’t violently popping and spraying soup bits all over me. I should probably try and wear long sleeves whenever using the immersion blender, it appears. I’m a terrible blogger, so I forgot to take pictures of all of the beautiful fresh vegetables (onions! cauliflower! broccoli! carrots!) that went into my soup, instead opting for this slightly-less-appealing shot after the addition of the cheese. Nevertheless, the finished product was just as hearty, filling, and tasty as I could have hoped.

So, there you have it. I cooked this week! Never mind that Rick made six of our dinners and also another apple strudel – I’m taking my soup and cookies as a win. I think my next endeavor is going to be potato leek soup – you know, just to balance out the health factor with some heavy cream. Mmm, delicious.

Small Business, Big Talent

Because two-day shipping is great, but shopping small is more fun.

Among all of the things that 2020 has taught us, one that stands out to me is the importance of supporting small businesses. Don’t get me wrong – I still shop at Target and Amazon, but I have been incredibly impressed with the creative pivots that I have seen small, local businesses take to adapt to the madness that is our new every day, and I feel obligated to support them when I have the opportunity. Add to that the importance of supporting Black-owned and -led (as well as BIPOC-owned and -led more broadly) companies, and it’s really a no-brainer for me. Plus, I think there’s a particular kind of joy in picking out wares from a small business, since you’re far more likely to discover something truly unique.

This is in no way a comprehensive list (and it doesn’t include food/restaurants, which is a whole separate thing), but represents a few of the businesses that I have been really excited about and, in many cases, have purchased from multiple times. As a plus, all of these shops are women-owned/-led. I genuinely didn’t plan it that way, it just happened and I’m thrilled. Shops are linked and Instagram handles are noted for even more aesthetic goodness. Here we go!

To begin, my kid hates bows. Periodically, she will tolerate them for long enough for me to take a picture, but generally she is determined to get them off her head as fast as possible. However, I have been unable to resist buying her (and me!) bows and headbands from SweetMay (@sweetmay.co). The shop has beanies, bows, turbans, headbands, etc. in a variety of fabrics. My favorite thing is that they’re all customizable – you can pick what kind of knot/bow/tie you would like, as well as what size. It’s how I ended up with matching mommy-and-me bows that we’ve worn for exactly 10 minutes. Don’t care, still adorable. 10/10 will do it again.

I learned about Tal & Bert (@talandbert) through Young House Love’s Instagram stories (John & Sherry did an awesome job using their platform to amplify Black-owned businesses – you can find a list they curated here). I quickly determined that I want to buy all the things that Tal & Bert makes. Their concrete vessels are unique and beautiful and I think they’re just the coolest. Up until recently, the shop did monthly pre-order drops, which sold out incredibly quickly. The team has been growing, though, and now their online shop is open all the time. Which is great for them, and less great for my bank account.

I met Hannah, the mastermind behind Grimm & Co. (@grimmcandles), through the Honors program at the University of Washington (Go Dawgs!). We quickly realized that we shared an affinity for spooky things. I was writing my honors history thesis (which I never finished, but that’s another story) on the varying response to vaccinations, as a result of my fascination with infectious disease. I must admit, it’s much scarier to think about the Black Death these days than it was back then. Hannah, on the other hand, did finish her thesis on the commodification of abnormal human bodies in Georgian and Victorian Britain, and it was very cool. I won’t link it here, for her privacy, but I will point out that it’s award-winning. All of this is to say that I was enchanted when Hannah opened Grimm & Co., offering beautiful soy wax candles bewitching scents, because I think clever, creative ladies should be supported. As far as the products go, I think her votive sampler set is brilliant, in particular.

I have followed Madeleine Wilson on social media for a long time – we had mutual friends, she had a fashion and lifestyle blog I enjoyed reading, we share a first name (albeit spelled differently), etc. As a result, I have had the privilege of watching her launch and grow Madeleine Wilson Photography (@madeleinewilsonphoto). As someone who dabbles with a camera, I am pretty particular about the photographs that I put on my walls, but I couldn’t resist getting one of Madeleine’s Mt. Rainier prints to put up. I love seeing her perspective, particularly of the Pacific Northwest.

I dearly want to visit the brick and mortar Noteworthy Paper & Press (@noteworthypaper) in Missoula, MT but, for the time being, the online store is going to have to do. I particularly love their postcards and tea towels, but they have also curated a variety of goods from other vendors, resulting in a wide variety of products available in their website. The Noteworthy Etsy shop includes a sale section – I bought a mystery pack of “seconds” and can honestly say that they’re nearly perfect. I have gotten great joy out of popping buffalo- or tree-shaped postcards in the mail – I highly recommend the experience.

If you’re having a bad day, please just go browse the Farmgirl Flowers (@farmgirlflowers) website. I’ll wait here. Now, Farmgirl has grown (no pun intended) a lot, and I’m not sure if they technically still qualify as a small business, but I think they’re worth noting just the same. Any time I want to send flowers, I immediately think of Farmgirl. I’ve never had a bad experience with them, and the flowers that arrive are always beautiful. They have awesome seasonal arrangements, and I love that the focus is on the flowers – no extra gadgets or gimmicks.

Address stamps from MJ’s Art Stamps (sans addresses).

As we know, I am a big fan of sending mail. I love addressing envelopes, too. I had a grand time sending out save-the-dates and wedding invitations (mail-sending mother lode!) for just this reason. Oddly enough, though, I do not love writing in our return address. I think it’s just too repetitive. Enter, a personalized return address stamp. I have gotten at least one stamp from MJ’s Art Stamps for every house we have owned. I also love giving these as housewarming presents or engagement gifts – there’s something so satisfying about seeing your name and address in a well-designed font and being able to stamp it all over the place. Seriously, stamp all the things.

I stumbled upon Lucy Loves Paper (@lucylovespaper) while browsing one of Etsy’s curated gift lists. Often, I find that there are a lot of the same types of things on these lists, so I don’t usually get too excited – monogrammed leather catchalls are not really my thing. However, Lucy’s art made me stop and click in to her shop – it’s pretty and fun and just makes you smile. Her cards and stickers are perfect for just-because notes, and her portraits are a vintage-style delight. I will note that Etsy sent out a gift guide featuring one of Lucy’s prints a few days ago, so her lead times have understandably spiked.

I found Stash + Story (@stashandstory) while I was looking for a baby book. I wanted something simple, with a few prompts but nothing too restrictive. Ideally, I knew I would also need a place to store all the bits and bobs that come with having a kid (hospital bracelets, ultrasounds, footprints), etc. Stash + Story offered the perfect combination. Their books are well-designed, sturdy, and super customizable. They also sell a school memory box and offer pages for kids up to 18 years old. I think E’s baby book is beautiful, and I really enjoy filling it out. I have cards from her shower tucked in the pockets in the back, as well as a ton of ultrasounds and other small things. I will say that I have determined that I need an auxiliary memory box for some of the bigger things (special clothes, etc.) but that says more about me as a hoarder of nostalgia than it does about the capabilities of the book.

Puddle + Ink (@puddleandink) was borne of photographer Amy Soper’s desire to take up a new art. She tells the story best. Starting with acrylic pouring and alcohol ink prints, she has branched out into other hard goods and opened an Etsy store with trinket dishes and jewelry, including a new range of adorable resin earrings. Amy also shares Damn Fine Studios with other local lady-bosses, which is pretty darn cool.

Finally – I grew up playing with simple colored wooden blocks, and I loved them. Tree Fort Toys (@treeforttoys) makes the kind of toys I want my daughter to love playing with, along with sets of blocks that are perfect for Pinterest-worthy (is Pinterest still a thing?) milestone photos. I appreciate that Tree Fort toys are sturdy, handmade, and beautiful as well as being designed to be educational and promote development.

So there we have it – a list of some of the (as it turns out) women-led small businesses that are first in my mind when I’m looking for something unique, creative, or just a little extra special. Knowing that there is a person responsible for crafting the product on the other side of the computer makes me smile, and makes me even more excited about whatever it is that I am choosing to purchase.

A Note: To me, Etsy is eminently satisfying. First of all, you can find almost anything – just search “dog face socks” or “pagan gifts” if you don’t believe me. Yes, these are both real-life searches I have used and from which I have successfully purchased gifts. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – technology, man. Founded in 2005, the platform has grown dramatically and changed significantly, as one would expect. What was previously a platform exclusively for handmade, artisan goods has now expanded, with a more general definition of “handmade.” Still, it’s a great jumping-off point for many makers and designers who are not yet ready to take on their own commerce website, or who want the exposure that being part of Etsy’s search results provides. However, Etsy does, of course, take a commission on sales made on its platform. I have, therefore, tried to link sellers’ independent websites (if they operate one) even if I originally found them through Etsy, to cut down on these fees.

Relief and Beyond

For a moment (or three days), I was really, very scared that this would be a very different post.

I have been cautiously optimistic about the outcome of the presidential election for months. However, 2020 is The Worst (as we know) and I had a dark sense of anxiety floating at the back of my mind – what if the cherry on top of this year was that somehow, we were in for four more years of the same? Four more years of falsehoods, baseless accusations and vitriol, of hatred and bigotry and the incitement of violence. Four more years of seemingly every day bringing some new scandal, seemingly engineered to make us forget about the last. In the best of moments, I got a semi-horrified laugh out of whatever Jimmy or Trevor or Seth was commenting on that day. In the worst, I stared open-mouthed, disbelieving that what I was hearing could really be coming from the mouth of someone elected to be America’s president. Many times, those moments overlapped.

In the lead up to Election Day, I was nervous, but felt good. I had cast my ballot, tracked it, corrected a signature issue, and verified it was counted. I was anxious for polls to close and results to start pouring in. Tuesday night, we turned on the TV and made jokes about the ridiculous “too early to call” declarations and graphics, seconds after polls closed. We expressed our admiration for Steve Kornacki and his smart board (turns out, he was just getting fired up). I was working on my home video digitizing project (still underway, more details when I’m done). It was all great fun.

Then, states started turning red. I had read all the information about mail-in votes, was listening to the anchors tell us about how many ballots were still outstanding, how long it was going to take to do the count, but it didn’t matter. My vision started to blur. I got tense, and I couldn’t stop watching. Rick suggested we turn off the coverage, seeing how upset I was. I refused. I couldn’t look away. All of a sudden, I was back in 2016, so sure that there was no possible way that Trump could win, but watching it happen. I felt a crushing sense of fear and paralysis. The group chat that my mom and sisters and I had been updating all day had gone silent – I don’t think any of us wanted to put any of what we were seeing into words. At some point, I had to put the baby to bed and I pulled myself away. The West coast polls closed and that helped, but I still was in shock. I forced myself to go to sleep.

I woke up around 3:30 am and made myself take a breath and a moment before I rolled over to check my phone. I had hope, but was scared for what I would find. Luckily, things looked better. I was able to go back to sleep.

As Wednesday stretched into Thursday, I was irritable and sad. I had a headache, my face broke out. All my energy went in to taking care of the baby, singing her songs and giving her all the snuggles I could – there wasn’t much left in the emotional tank for my husband, so I snipped and sighed at him, which he didn’t deserve. I was surprised by the effect that the whole situation was having, to be honest. I thought that I had prepared myself for the days-long process, for the uncertainty. Midway through Thursday, though, I started to understand the disconnect I was feeling. My heart was hoping for an immediate landslide victory – I’m talking 0% votes for the sitting president. Rationally, I know that that’s not realistic, but I was emotionally jarred by seeing millions of people vote to uphold something that I find so terrifying and dark. I shouldn’t have been – I know people who voted that way, and I even understand parts of why (even if I think they’re grossly misguided), but when I started to see the numbers on the screen, I got scared.

I kept hoping. I cried, midday Friday, when I felt like I could breathe again. I dripped tears on my baby girl, who was screeching up at her best friend the ceiling fan (as per usual) – “It’s going to be ok. I think it’s really going to be ok!” I laughed at some more Padma Lakshmi tweets. I cooked dinner. I managed not to refresh the various news outlets every thirty seconds. We waited for the call, but it didn’t come. This morning, when I saw that the race had been called, I whooped and cried – sobbing tears of joy and relief. I shouted to Rick and we hurried to turn on the news coverage, excited to hear something other than “too close to call.”

On Thursday, I had posted on Instagram: “I’ve got to say… I have a newborn and I have absolutely not been as exhausted (mentally and emotionally) the entire time she has been alive as I have been the last two days. BIPOC (particularly women) and LGBTQ+ who deal with this weight (x1000) literally every day – I salute you. Now, I’m gonna kiss my baby and get ready for bed. Sleep is what we need right now.” I’m not sure if those were the perfect words* for what I was trying to say, but what I meant was this: I’m a privileged-ass white woman. The fear and anxiety that I was experiencing was crippling and scary. I had a hard time functioning properly, and I didn’t feel like myself. I have listened to people describe how crucial this election is, what the gravity of the situation is for their families and their very lives, but I will honestly say that I don’t think I really understood the emotional magnitude until this week. My fear was based on a privileged hypothetical – scared that something could happen to affect my rights. That’s nothing. Going about every day life, managing to grow and thrive, not to mention (in many cases) taking on the mantle of advocacy and education – all while shouldering the very real threat to your rights and/or your life? That’s incredible. Really, truly, incredible and honorable. It shouldn’t be that way, though – no person should have to live like that.

Tonight, I listened to the President- and Vice-President-elect speak about unity, about hope and faith, and about healing. Like any political speech, there are a lot of promises to be kept and a lot of work yet to do. I have hope that we will be able to hold the new administration accountable to the goals and values that they have promised. I have faith that we are turning a corner to something better – maybe not best, just yet, but better. I fiercely believe that things can get better, and that the work that each person does, both individually and in the community, matters. I hope that I am right. In the meantime, I am doing my best to push away the lingering fragments of “what if” and what could have been, like the remnants of a bad dream when you wake. I’m being realistic about the fact that the next few months will likely be bumpy and ugly. That, I hope I am wrong about. As with all things, I’m going to hug my baby girl tight, talk to her about all the amazing things she can do, if she chooses, and text my family, hoping to make them smile. 2020 is still The Worst, but tonight… I’ll give it a break.

*These still may not be the best words. If there is a way that I can improve this to be more inclusive, better tone, etc. please let me know. I am still learning and practicing, but I want to get it right!

Milk and Cereal: A Love Story

A desperate battle between my affinity for carbs and my disdain for the smell of leftover milk.

When it comes to food, my father is a creature of habit. Wednesdays are for fish tacos, and Thursdays are for spaghetti. Lunch is a medley of tomatoes, cottage cheese and balsamic vinegar, topped with pepper. Breakfast is – and has been for as long as I can remember – a heaping bowl of cereal. Aside from the portion size, the concoction itself is impressive. Multiple kinds of cereal (shredded wheat and puffed wheat are the two that spring to mind, but there may be others) are topped by frozen mixed berries and milk. It’s glorious. My mom’s cereal program is a little simpler – Cheerios and milk. The point is that I was certainly raised by two cereal-and-milk eaters. And as far as I know, I always hated it.

I feel a little silly continuing to specify cerealandmilk (milked cereal? gross.), but the distinction is critical. Most of the time, growing up, I did avoid cereal completely, but not always. Sometimes I’d have a bowl (mostly puffed wheat, to my recollection) with some frozen blueberries and – no milk. My grandparents’ house in Michigan had a pantry full of a variety of cereals (from, we always suspected, a variety of decades) and cereal was definitely the primary breakfast available. Again, I’d help myself to dry cereal (Raisin Bran, if available) with blueberries – fresh, in this case. I can distinctly picture the wide, flat spoons with the plastic handles (like this, if you’re looking to score yourself a set) that were ubiquitous at that house. Probably still are, to be honest. In any case, the blueberries would give the cereal just enough moisture to get it down, but I always got funny looks.

I hate to say it, and I’m not sure if it’s really the true origin, but I trace my dislike for cereal and milk back to my mom’s morning Cheerios. She’d pour herself a bowl and get about her morning business, unloading the dishwasher or peeking at the paper. She’s not a milk slurper, though, so when all the cereal was gone, a little bit of milk would remain behind in the bowl sitting next to the sink. If you know the smell of soggy Cheerios and the left-behind milk, you know. If you don’t, well, it’s a smell. Not a great one. I think I associated that smell with all cereal and milk and just didn’t want any part of it. I also am not a big fan of milk by itself, so I think that may have played a role, though that may have been a preference adopted later in life.

My husband is a cereal-and-milk eater, too. It’s his “second dinner”* of choice. His tastes in cereal are wide-ranging, but generally center on Raisin Bran or Cheerios. Throughout our time together I can count on one hand the number of times he’s actually finished a box of cereal – typically, I think the desire is fleeting. As a result, we generally have a half-finished box of some kind of cereal on the counter somewhere. That was the case about two months ago, when I picked up the box of Apple Cinnamon Cheerios, put some in a bowl, inexplicably poured a healthy amount of oat milk over the cereal and ate the whole thing.

I didn’t really have any particularly strange cravings during pregnancy. I ate a lot of frozen blueberries and drank a lot of chocolate milk, but I thankfully never awoke in the middle of the night with a desperate need for some specific treat. I did find myself unable to eat any meat for a couple of months, which was definitely the biggest change to my diet. That passed, and things went back to normal. Then, I gave birth, and I started eating cereal with milk every day. When I say that I eat it every day, I mean I genuinely look forward to my cereal in the morning (or some other time of day). I don’t tolerate it because it’s good for me – I actually get excited to eat it. Particularly if it’s a granola day – score.

I’m not sure if my sudden shift to loving cereal with milk was purely just a hormonal taste change, or whether it has to do with the fact that oat milk doesn’t seem to react to Cheerios in the same way that cow’s milk does (no funk!), but I don’t really care. I’m on the cereal-with-milk train and you’d better watch out, because now I finally had an excuse to buy (and label!) cereal canisters. I haven’t gone so far as to branch out into different cereals or to mix my Cheerios varieties just yet, but I am my father’s daughter in many ways, so it’s probably coming. In the meantime, I’ll make sure I have some frozen berries, just in case.

* Not to be confused with dessert, it’s that thing of when you eat dinner and are still hungry but there are no leftovers (or your wife made dinner and it was OK but you really would have rather had something else) so you make yourself a giant bowl of cereal and milk. And then maybe another one, just for good measure.