I've moved.
Too many awkward ads...

I used marshmallows,
because I was out of raisins.

They all expanded
and then popped

leaving
  marshmallow craters

all over my granola bars.

  Don't worry. I'm not turning this into a recipe blog. It's just that, well, you see, I've gotten involved with another blog. No, no, no - not in *that* sense of the word. I'm just, well, interested in it. I read it. Get its daily emails. Do what the blog tells me. That sort of thing. Nothing to worry about.  I'll post details soon. But for now:
  Today, it asked me to share a recipe I used earlier this week. So here it is.

Baked Ham with Maple Glaze

• 1 (5 pound) fully-cooked, bone-in ham
• 1/4 cup maple syrup
• 1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
• 2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
•  3 tablespoons mustard

My ham was a bit bigger, and took about 3 hours to cook. I also marinated (is that a ham word?) it in the sauce, rather than putting it on while it was baking, because I knew that I would forget...

  I used to think that $2.50, or even, say, $3.00, was not a bad price for a box of wipes. It was much better than using washcloths, that's for sure. And probably, when one factored in the start-up cost of buying the cloths, the constant electricity costs of washing and drying, as well as the value of one's time spent rinsing, folding, getting out and putting away, was close to the same price. I was happy to buy those neat little boxes at the drugstore. $2.50 isn't bad, I told myself.

  Until I realized that it was $2.50, every week. And sometimes, it was more than that. Like the times when I ran out and had to ask Kevin to buy some (for $4.00) at the local drugstore on his way home. The costs mounted. I did a rough estimate of how much it would cost me for a year, and came up with $150.00.
Not bad, you might say.
But all I could think was, "That's a lot of chocolate."
"There must be a cheaper way."

And there was. Kevin's dad cut an article out of the paper for me - "It's for homemade baby wipes," he said gruffly. "I don't know if you're into that stuff, but anyways..."
"Yes, oh, yes." said I, taking the article.

I got ice cream containers from my brother Martin (since our minimalist cupboard principles won't let me keep my own old containers), bought thicker paper towel when I was getting groceries, and got out Katherine's baby oil and shampoo. The whole process took about 5 minutes.
(The recipe: cut the paper towel in half and take out the cardboard center.
Mix 2 1/4 cups water with 2 Tbsp baby shampoo/baby wash and 1 Tbsp baby oil.
Throw everything into a 2-liter ice cream container and shake it up.
Store upside-down.)
  

The cost for an entire batch of wipes, which I estimate is the equivalent to 4 boxes of store-bought disposables, was $2.00. So I saved at least $8.00. Just the amount a nice box of Lindors would cost. Score!

Unless, of course, I wanted to pay myself for my time... Let's see. At $8.00 per 5 minutes, that's $96.00/hour.

But only if I make wipes full-time.

Relax. Let me explain.

I had never heard of babywise until just recently. A friend mentioned it when I was about seven months pregnant. The basic principle of babywise, she said, was "Feeding time, waketime, and then naptime." She had been using it with her baby, and recommended the book.  Apparently, it was supposed to help babies sleep through the night sooner, and go to bed peacefully. That sounded great to me; I wanted my baby to be a happy, peaceful baby. If Babywise could help, I wanted to know about it.

So I read the book. Katherine was over a month old when I finally got a copy, but I started her on a schedule the day I read the book. And I found it very helpful. Katherine had been eating every hour or two, and once I put her on a schedule, she ate every 2 1/2 hours; ate faster, and ate better, I felt. The book was right, apparently, when it suggested that she had been snacking constantly before. I kept her awake after feedings, reading to her, giving her rides in our baby carrier, and letting her discover the little girl in the mirror on her mobile; then put her down for her naps awake. That was the way to help her learn to enjoy her bed, and it seemed to be working well.

Then I ran into trouble. She didn't sleep nearly as much as the book said she would. I would put her down for a nap, and she would just hang out in her crib, looking at the ceiling, looking out the window, looking at me with her big blue eyes when I came to check her. So I asked around, trying to find out if the friends who had used the Babywise way had found their baby deviated from the schedule, too.  And that's when the reactions started coming in.

  Everyone who knows about the book has an opinion, it seems; no one takes a neutral stance when it comes to Babywise.
 Some friends who are trying it with their babies say they like it. Most add a little disclaimer, urging me to take the good the book has to offer, but to avoid swallowing hook, line, and sinker, everything the author says.
Others are not so positive. "Isn't that the book that tells you to let your babies cry and cry, so that they'll learn to sooth themselves?" asked one friend.
"Parents who get into the Babywise thing," someone else cautioned, "can have their kids become emotionally detached as they grow older. For example, the baby won't be able to fall asleep in his parent's arms, because he knows that he should be in his bed; he feels that he is doing something wrong."
And then there was a comment about becoming a "crunchy momma," on facebook. While I'm not exactly sure what that meant, it sounded ominous.

So I did what I always do when I have a mothering question: Googled it.

Using the search term "Issues with Babywise," I read that babies can become depressed when parents use the babywise method. Alarmed, I read on. Katherine, snuggled next to me on the bed, smiled in her sleep. "Parents are reluctant to give up on the method;" I read, "Health care professionals have observed that even when their babies were doing poorly on the program, parents often wanted to stick with it."

I stopped reading and thought about that for a moment. Of course they want to stick with it! The book promises that, if you follow the babywise method, your baby will "sleep through the night by eight weeks." What new mother can resist that lure? That would keep me on the schedule!

But depression. That was serious. I resolved to stop being Babywise the moment Katherine started spending time fussing for no discernible reason.

I'm pleased to report that the moment hasn't come.  Katherine has begun intentionally smiling at us. She has started sleeping 5 hours straight, every night. She also likes her bed, and doesn't cry when we tuck her in.

Maybe Katherine's well-balanced, happy babyhood has nothing to do with Babywise. But maybe it does.
And so, whatever its faults may be, I like Babywise.