Hickmans at Home

Spidey Friend

In which we spend prolonged periods of time watching a giant spider and remark on the importance of having a good stain remover handy.

Lately, we’ve been working on breaking a bad habit. For years, our evening routine has been eating dinner on the couch and then spending a few hours watching Netflix. I use Netflix like Kleenex; sometimes we watch Prime Video or Monday Night Football – you get the idea. In any event, in the last week or so, we have made an effort to forego the relative comfort of the couch and eat at the table. Partly, this is because I don’t think E enjoys Grey’s Anatomy as much as we do (also, McDreamy and Meredith are both THE WORST. Don’t come for me, but I will fight you if needed.) and eliminating the TV allows us to spend more time engaging with her in the evening when we’re both home. We’ve seen a significant drop in the amount of fussing she does between 4-7 pm, even if we’re just all sitting in the living room reading or listening to music.

I would be lying, however, if I said that the fussing was the original impetus for us to shift our routine. Honestly, what inspired us to utilize our perfectly good table and chairs was the fact that we kept ruining (or threatening to ruin) perfectly good t-shirts by dripping food on them. Nothing says waste of money like buying a new, cozy sweatshirt and then immediately dripping salad dressing down the front of it. I mean, I already live in fear of getting breast milk on everything I own (that shit stains, who knew?) – I don’t need to set myself up for failure any more than I already am. OxiClean works wonders, but you’ve got to hit it right away, thereby interrupting your dinner and couch time anyway. It’s all very dramatic. At the end of the day, we’re almost 30, so we decided that maybe we should eat at a table if we can’t manage our mess. I know – I’ll stand back while you take a moment to revel in our adult-ness. Also, I’d like to be one of those families that sits down to eat together. I think it’s nice.

One downside of spending less time on the couch is that we are not getting to see as much of our spidey friend.* You see, she lives on the outside of the window just above the couch. She built a web, which Rick promptly knocked down. She immediately built it back up again, bigger, in a big middle finger of defiance. I mean, she’s a spider, so she doesn’t have a middle finger, but if she did it would be pointed directly at Rick. Over the course of several weeks, we’ve watched this spider fight (or mate?) with other spiders, eat lots of bugs, repair and rebuild her web, and pack it away before a big rainstorm.

Spidey friend and a rainbow. See?! Nature! Ignore the dirty window. It’s hard to clean when there’s a big spider in front of the glass, OK?

Neither Rick nor I is a particular fan of spiders (particularly big fat ones), but I must say that there is something pretty fascinating about watching this one go about her life on the other side of the glass. I like to think we’re practicing slowing down and appreciating nature and science a little better, but perhaps we’re just fascinated by something we find a little creepy. Either way, I think it’s pretty remarkable the amount of time that we have collectively spent staring at this spider. Since we have relocated our evening routine, I walk past the window and check on her periodically, generally when I’m moving the laundry or letting the dog out, but it’s not quite the same. For now, I’ll take that as a sign to take my baby outside, go on walks, and take the extra time to stop and look at the drops of dew sparkling on the spiderwebs. We’re rewiring ourselves to “unwind” in a different way in the evenings, but so far it has been worth it. There’s magic in these quieter moments and, while I love our spidey friend (from afar), she’s not worth a stained sweatshirt or, especially, a fussy baby. So, for the time being, we’ll keep eating at the table.

*Yes, as noted, we are almost 30.

Getting Crafty: Eucalyptus Wreath

Because buying one was too expensive and would have robbed me of a trip to JoAnn and Trader Joe’s. Also, tapenade. You’ll see.

My artistic ability is, while not nonexistent, likely stifled by lack of use. Also, if I’m being completely honest, by lack of patience and desire to practice. Therefore, I have found it amusing that in recent weeks I have found myself thinking things like, “I would like to make cinnamon rolls from scratch!” (post on that coming soon), “I could make Christmas stockings this year!” (spoiler alert: I’m not going to, I bought some on Etsy), or “I’d like to make a eucalyptus wreath for the front door!”

Over the last few years, I’ve been a fake-wreath proponent. From afar, they look cute, they last through the season, and they’re an amusing excuse to meander through HomeGoods or Target. However, as I’ve gone through multiple decluttering waves in recent months, I have found it hard to want to hang on to my mediocre-quality faux foliage and, three years in to living in this house, the wreaths are starting to get a little rough around the edges anyway.

Having decided that a eucalyptus wreath was a Fall 2020 essential, I spent some time poking around online for potential options. Farmgirl Flowers has a gorgeous wreath that almost lured me in and Etsy has some nice ones, but I had a really hard time wanting to shell out $80+ for something that I wanted to put outside in not-so-nice weather, pretty much guaranteeing a short lifespan. I looked for a nicer-quality faux option, but I don’t think eucalyptus lends itself well to being imitated. After a few days of idle browsing, I had pretty much resigned myself to just leaving my summery magnolia-leaf wreath up until it was time to make a Christmas version.

Then, I watched one of Natalie Bennett’s vlogs and was struck with inspiration. Not only had I forgotten how much I love Trader Joe’s olive tapenade (seriously, it’s amazing), but I realized that I could gather my own supplies for a eucalyptus wreath and build one for far less than I would find online. Not only would this make me feel better about sticking it right on the front door, but it felt like a good project to break up my day. Also, I needed a break from apple-related endeavors. I called up my mom and we set off on an outing for craft supplies. $16 at JoAnn’s (wreath frame, floral wire, and some accent bits) and $20 at Trader Joe’s (including tapenade) later, I was ready. I will say, the Trader Joe’s I went to did not have a huge eucalyptus selection, but I’ve since been to another location where there was far more, so shop around.

I got home and put my eucalyptus in water, then promptly ignored it for the next two days. Finally, I got a good morning nap window and sat down determined to craft my masterpiece. I separated my eucalyptus and other greens into bunches and laid them down around the wreath frame, overlapping the stems and securing everything with floral wire. I ran out of greens, so I decided to go for a bit of a harvest look and stuck the faux bits that I had picked up on a whim on the lower left side.

It turned out… okay! From afar, I am quite proud of it. It loses a bit of appeal when you get close, mostly as a result of my impatience with the floral wire. I am sure that someone with steadier hands and/or a stronger desire for impeccable presentation could manage to wrangle the stems a bit better, but I was on a bit of a time crunch (it was a good nap, luckily) and was more determined to get the bag of supplies off my dining room chairs than anything, to be honest. The best part is, the project cost me less than $40 (including a snack!), which was a significant savings over anything I could find pre-made that I might actually want. That’s very good news, because here’s what it looks like a little less than two weeks later:

To be fair, we’ve had some pretty intense wind and rain within this time, so I think there are some extenuating circumstances. I’m pretty pleased that massive chunks of it haven’t simply blown away – taking that as a win. I’ve decided to lean into the decay as part of a “spooky” aesthetic, the other part of which is a skeleton hanging next to the door. That’s it, that’s the décor. We might get a pumpkin at some point, we’ll see. In any event, I’m pleased with the result, pleased with the fact that I didn’t spend a bunch of money to order a wreath that ended up looking this way anyway, and extra-pleased that I have tapenade in the house again. Really, it’s that good.

Health Adventures

Also known as “Can we get frequent flyer status at the hospital?”, “Thank God for health insurance,” and/or “Gramma Camp is the best.” Warning: this is a long one.

Let me tell you, I am very familiar with our local hospital. I can answer the COVID screening questions real fast, I have a preferred parking area, and I know exactly how many minutes it will take me to get to the OB/GYN office from the parking garage (three, unless I run into someone slow on the stairs). Rick is more knowledgeable about the cafeteria offerings, though I do have some pretty strong opinions about the tapioca (amazing), BLTs (delightful), and the grilled cheese (very disappointing).

I’m a little type A. I love having a routine – I am CIA-assassin’s-dream-level predictable most of the time, so having appointments on my calendar is pretty thrilling. You can imagine my joy to have set monthly, then twice-monthly, then weekly doctor’s appointments all planned out in advance. I ate it up. Then my blood pressure decided it wanted to reach for the stars and I found myself going in for not just a weekly quick “Yep, you’re good!” appointment, but a multi-hour process including a variety of tests. We can get into the specifics another day, but suffice to say that the shine wore off just a bit. Still, I had an excuse to hear baby E’s heartbeat and see her wiggle every week, so I couldn’t be too upset. Ultimately, we decided that induction at 39 weeks and 3 days would be the best course of action and I was admitted to the hospital for the first time ever and went home two days later with a happy, healthy baby girl (again, probably more on that another day – it was a wild ride). Cool, good deal, see you next time I decide to have a baby, right?

Unfortunately, not so much. I got through the postpartum pre-eclampsia risk period (perhaps by sheer force of will), baby girl’s checkups, and my own postpartum appointment at six weeks. Cleared, good to go, sweet. Then, somewhere around a week later, I began to get a fun gnawing pain under my ribs. I don’t know how to describe it other than a grumbly hungry stomach that would not be satisfied by food and, in fact, seemed pissed if I tried to eat. Great! I Googled, of course and determined that I probably wasn’t dying but might have an ulcer. Have some Tums, they said. Great! I did that, no dice. Have some Prilosec, they said. Great! I did that (I was well-stocked on both of these items due to my periodic fires-of-Hell heartburn episodes while pregnant) and it seemed to help a little. Deciding that anxiety was probably only exacerbating the issue, I decided I simply wouldn’t worry about it any more and the problem would go away. And it did, for a few days.

Over the next week and a half, I had a few more bouts of pain here and there, but kept pushing it away and popping Tums like it was my job (I kept saying I felt like a shady businessman type in a movie, trying to cover his misdeeds – that should have tipped me off). My breaking point came after spending three hours in the middle of the night alternately curled over and sitting up as straight as I could while I fought through a particularly bad wave. I emailed my doctor and made a plan to go in the next day. I went in and we agreed that an ulcer was probably the most likely scenario. I resigned myself to avoiding coffee, carbonated water (nooo!) and anything else fun for the foreseeable future while getting it under control. I agreed to up my Prilosec, gave some blood for testing, and carried on my merry way.

That night, I started to get really itchy, like I had hives. So, you know, I Googled some more. I went down a rabbit hole of potential issues (adverse reaction to the Prilosec, liver problems) but told myself to calm down and stop with the internet medicine. You can imagine my surprise when I woke up to repeated calls and texts from my doc telling me that my blood work came back abnormal, my liver enzymes were off the charts, and I needed to go in right now (on a Saturday morning) for an ultrasound. Great!

The rest of Saturday was a mess. I had my ultrasound, got word that I had at least one gallstone and got sent in to the ER. We spent about five hours in the ER, during which time I was (sort of) mentally prepared for emergency surgery to remove my gallbladder. Around hour four-and-a-half, after being told that my “abysmal” lab work was starting to normalize and the ER nurse repeatedly poking my stomach and being incredulous that I was not in serious pain (at that point, I wasn’t), we were given the option to go home and schedule surgery another day. I cried. I was so frustrated, feeling like I had wasted everyone’s time, been away from my baby all day for no reason (thank God for Gramma Camp) and now had to mentally psych myself up for who-knows-how-many more days. We did decide to go home, though, and it was one THOUSAND percent the right move. Spending the night alone in the hospital just waiting for surgery? No, thank you.

I hadn’t eaten all day, so I was pretty stoked to get IV fluids in the ER.

I went on a little-to-no-fat diet (brown rice and raw fruit, delicious). Monday I had a consult with the surgeon, got pre-surgery labs (still abnormal, but better), and got COVID tested. Pro tip: don’t have a screaming baby in the back seat while getting drive-through COVID testing done. She was crying, I was crying, it was a whole thing. Luckily, the test came back negative. Wednesday afternoon, I went in for surgery. My big takeaway was that I have never been cleaner than I was that day, and that you haven’t seen true love until your husband helps you wipe down with surgical wet wipes according to a color-coded diagram. Big fun all around. The surgery went well, though I woke up in a surprising amount of pain – having had a blissfully easy postpartum recovery, I was shocked that I was hurting as much as I was and, honestly, still am days later. I got out of the hospital as fast as I possibly (safely) could, and am hoping not to have to go back for a good long while. Well, except for my follow-up next week. But after that, I’m done!

Here’s the thing about all of this, and the reason that I think it’s important: I could have very easily had much bigger problems than I ultimately did. Some of it was luck, but a big part of my problem was that I neglected to follow the airplane oxygen mask rule: put on your mask before helping others. I was so terrified at the thought of not being able to take care of my baby that my plan was to just will away what was at best a very painful ulcer. As you can see, not my best plan. So, learn from my (very long-winded) cautionary tale – don’t wait to put on your oxygen mask.

Apples for Fall (Revolutionary)

The working title of this post was “Bitches Love Apples” and I stand by it.

I think that we can all agree that 2020 has been a trip. Remember December 2019 where we were primarily occupied with how to plan our Roaring 20’s New Year’s Eve parties? I mean, I wasn’t, because I prefer to spend New Year’s in my pajamas eating ice cream and going to bed at 12:01 am, but I digress. There is so much unfamiliar about this year so far that it seems people are eager to seek out and cling to traditional seasonal activities. For the Hickman household, this has manifested in all things apple.

I started with apple fruit leather. I’ll link the recipe that I used (loosely) here, but honestly this project was more about the experience than the actual product. I think that making fruit leather is worthwhile even if just to make the house smell delicious for the 8+ hours that it sits in the oven drying out. The payoff wasn’t huge, just a few strips of leather, but as a project I felt pretty triumphant. One thing to note – recipes say that you can use parchment paper in place of a silicone baking mat (like this one), but I can’t imagine robbing myself of the satisfaction of peeling the leather up off the silicone. Magic, for real.

Next up, the only thing that I’ve ever made successfully in my Instant Pot – apple butter. Though, to be honest, I think that what I actually made qualified more as applesauce, so perhaps “successfully” is giving myself a bit more credit than is due. In any event, it smelled and tasted delicious so I think I win. I worked off of this recipe, but didn’t have pumpkin pie spice, so I just threw in various amounts of nutmeg, ginger, clove and (a lot of) cinnamon. The pressure cooking part went just fine, though things did get a little dicey when the immersion blender got involved (picture me trying to dodge bits of very hot apple liquid attacking my forearms). Ultimately, I probably should have let things simmer for a bit longer and thicken up, but naptime was almost over and I like applesauce better anyway.

Our latest foray into apple delights is apple strudel – Rick has been talking about strudel for months and, since I didn’t jump at the chance to make puff pastry, he took matters into his own hands. No recipe to link here, because he refuses to use them, but granny smith apples, raisins, chopped walnuts and some spices wrapped up in store-bought puff pastry made for a quick and easy (and delicious) strudel. He also learned the magic of the KitchenAid to whip cream, and my personal favorite touch was our second-day strudel breakfast which featured the left over whipped cream piped artfully out of the Ziploc it was stored in. We’re super fancy over here, folks.

I think next up we’re going to tackle a pie. I was spoiled growing up by homemade pie crusts, so there’s no casual chopping up some fruit and throwing it in a frozen shell to be had here. I’m not a purist (you do you), but homemade crust tastes so much better, even if it’s ugly and torn and makes you cry. Clearly, I’m looking forward to it. There’s also talk (by me) of planting an apple tree or two in the yard. Rick raised an eyebrow and asked me if I was going to harvest the apples. Sure, I say. Definitely. Fast forward three years when our side yard is full of apples everywhere and I’m paying E quarters to pick them up for me. We’ll tackle that when we get there. For now, things are weird and bitches love apples.*

*It’s me, I’m bitches.