Natural Deodorant ~ Dana

In reading about natural cleaning products, I’ve come across a lot of women who are turning to natural beauty products as well.  I was a bit reticent to try homemade, all-natural beauty products at first, out of sheer vanity.  I will admit that to you.  But the more I read, the more I knew I had to make the switch.

One of the scariest things that I tried was deodorant.   Yes, you read that correctly.  I make my own deodorant.  I have always thought that antiperspirant must be bad.  I mean, sweating is a natural thing and plugging up your sweat ducts cannot be good.  Turns out, it’s not.  Most antiperspirants use an aluminum-based formula to clog pores, keeping those armpits dry.  It seems like that’s bad, right?  But let me tell you exactly what it does to us.  When aluminum is absorbed into the body, it acts like estrogen.  And estrogen promotes the growth of breast cancer.

Many beauty products, deodorant included, also contain some form of parabens.  Parabens are a preservative but they also can mimic estrogen in the body. Scary, right?  Check out your ingredients lists.  There are parabens in many products including shampoo, face cream, and body lotion.

The Natural Cancer Institute has found no direct link between using deodorant and getting breast cancer.  But I figure that if I can make my own, again for cheaper than what I pay for traditional deodorant, and have it work just as well, why not?

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I’ve been using the recipe below for the last three months.  I wanted to wait until it heated up here in Southern California before I completely endorsed it.  I wear it every day and I do not smell.  I have not had a problem with residue on my clothing, even on expensive dresses that are tight on the armpit.  Although this is not an antiperspirant, I don’t notice excessive sweating or the dreaded pitmarks.

So here it is.  I bought all of the ingredients at natural markets like Clark’s Nutrition or Sprouts.  They can also be purchased online at Amazon.com. And once you have these products on hand, you can begin making more of your own beauty products, like face cream (recipe coming soon!).

Homemade Deodorant (recipe from wellnessmama.com)

Ingredients:

3 Tbsp Coconut Oil

3 Tbsp Baking Soda

2 Tbsp Shea Butter

2 Tbsp Arrowroot

Essential Oils (optional)

Directions:

1.  Melt Shea Butter and coconut oil in a double boiler over medium heat until barely melted. OR Combine in a quart size glass mason jar with a lid instead and place this in a small saucepan of water until melted. This will save your bowl and you can just designate this jar for these types of projects and not even need to wash it out.

2.  Remove from heat and add baking soda and arrowroot

3.  Mix well

4.  Add a few drops of essential oil and pour into a glass container for storage. It does not need to be stored in the fridge.

5.  Apply to clean armpits in the morning for an odor-free day!

Everything AND the Kitchen Sink ~ Jen

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It started with Annie screaming us awake at 12:45 am. When I got to her room, she was standing in vomit and looked like the phantom of the opera from where the pasta had congealed on the side of her face.

We spent the next three hours on the floor while she puked up everything she has ever eaten in her short life. We ran out of clean linen, so at the end, I just folded the towel over the puke and we fell asleep.

No surprise that 36 hours later, I was laid out with the worst case of stomach flu I have ever had.

I felt it coming and isolated myself in our room to protect the innocent. Shea slept downstairs. No matter. Thirty six hours later I woke up to the sound of him puking in the kitchen sink.

My OCD reared its ugly head and escaped the Zoloft prison. I sent Shea upstairs to the sick room, reached deep into the cupboard past the safe and natural cleaners, and pulled out the big guns: bleach and Lysol.

Dana laughed at me in a text: “This is no time for green cleaning, huh?”

Hell no. There’s a woman with an entire blog devoted to stopping the stomach flu.  I got on board her crazy train without a thought and covered my downstairs in bleach followed by Lysol. Every stinking surface. I was possessed. One time won’t hurt us, I told myself. One time.

When the kids woke up an hour later, my hands were raw and my downstairs was sanitized. I handed out the marching orders: Wash your hands! Don’t touch me! Don’t touch the baby! And for the love of God, don’t breathe too deeply!!!

Thirty six hours later, Gabe was puking.

I knew there would be a post in all this.

First, I thought it might be about husbands who puke in kitchen sinks.

Then I thought it would be about how when you are elbow deep in vomit and out of clean towels, you are not interested in hugging any God-blessed trees.

Then the kids got sick anyway.

So this is it: I had a crazy, hysterical fear of the stomach flu tearing through my home and in an attempt to stop it, I sprayed poison everywhere. For naught.  Norovirus triumphed.

And we lived. A week later, the laundry is done and put away, our appetites have returned and Shea and I both lost 7 lbs. What is so stinkin’ scary about that?

Kids get sick. Thank God they don’t get sick the way they used to a hundred years ago, but that’s not because of Lysol. It’s because we know more about handwashing and treating illness. I can’t stop them from getting stomach flu. Silly mama. Stomach flu happens.

Next time, we change our protocol. Hand washing is the most effective way to stop the spread of stomach flu. We will continue to “hanitize”. But I will use vinegar and hydrogen peroxide to sanitize surfaces. And—in what might be the best ever use of cheap liquor—vodka to disinfect upholstery. I know, right? Freakin’ brilliant.

We will be revisiting appropriate places to puke: toilet, check. Trashcan, check. Bathroom sink, check-ish, emergencies only.

The kitchen sink is way off limits.

Husband of mine, are you listening?

Soup in a Jar ~ Dana

Sometimes life happens, doesn’t it?  Jen’s house was hit by the plague last weekend, causing the cancellation of the highly anticipated Memorial Day BBQ, complete with waterslide jumper.  Yesterday, after our pediatrician’s suggestion to start feeding the six-month-old yogurt, projectile vomiting ensued and I spent hours in the ER waiting room.

But it doesn’t have to be illness.  A flat tire, a confrontation with a co-worker, or even just too much laundry can make the task of cooking dinner a daunting task.

That is why I bring to you my newest discovery:  soup in a jar!  I came across the idea at Noodles and Nuggets and decided to give it a try.  The end result was so good that I wanted to share it with you.  It’s simple, it’s easy, and if you make a whole bunch of them, they can be super cute hostess gifts, housewarming gifts, or just anytime gifts.  But it’s so good that you might just keep all the jars in your pantry for yourself.  We won’t judge you for that.

In half-pint mason jars, layer the dry ingredients, recipe to follow.

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I did a little assembly line on my kitchen counter.  It was so fast and easy, and I bet that if you have older kids, it would be a fun project to do with them. My two-year-old, not so much.

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I love the different colors!  I used red lentils just to give the jars an extra pop.

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So on a night when dinner seems daunting, pop one of these little beauties in 6 cups of water, add ½ – 1 lb. of cooked meat (might I suggest some kind of sausage?) and a can of diced tomatoes, cover, and simmer for 45 minutes.  Boom Baby.

Soup in a Jar

Ingredients:

1/4 cup split peas

1/8 cup chicken bullion

1/8 cup pearl barley

1/4 cup dry lentils (I used pretty red, but any color will do)

1/8 cup onion flakes

1 tsp. Italian seasoning

1/4 cup white rice

1 14 oz can diced tomatoes

6 cups water

1/2  – 1 lb cooked meat (I used Hillshire Farms sausage for extra flavor but I bet chicken would be delicious, too.)

Directions:

  1. If making jars ahead of time, layer all dry ingredients in half-pint mason jar.
  2. When ready to cook, combine all ingredients in a stock pot.  Bring to a boil.
  3. Reduce heat, cover, and simmer for 45 minutes.
  4. Enjoy!

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God Made the Giants ~ Jen

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Last weekend, on a family trip to the Kern River in Central California, we went to the Trail of a Hundred Giants in Sequoia National park.

Giant Sequoia trees are some of the largest and longest living creatures on earth, and can only be found on the western slopes of the Sierra Nevada range in California. They are massive glorious beautiful trees, so tall that you can’t see the tops of them when you stand beneath them. You have to back way, way up to get one whole tree in a picture.

The air was cool. The chickarees called from the tall branches. My dad and I were standing together on the path and he looked at the nearest Sequoia and said “That tree was here when Christ walked the earth.”

And before. The oldest known Giant Sequoia is 3,500 years old.

When I go to places of natural beauty, I always feel small, young and insignificant. I comprehend the enormity of time that has been and will be. I know my footsteps join countless others over thousands of years. And that we have all looked at the same thing. That blows my mind. It reminds me of my space. Just a small space in the Grand Scheme.

It never makes me feel sad or futile, though.

It makes me feel loved. God is always there to meet me at the foot of El Capitan or on the edge of the ocean or in a grove of ancient sequoias. He is there in the massive rock formations and the crashing waves, in the breezes blowing through the tree tops hundreds of feet off the ground. He says “Look at this world, this thing of beauty and grace. I made it for you, for this very moment. So you could know that I love you and I am your God.”

It was Divine Inspiration that we preserved these places in a nation where we are usually so quick to claim and conquer. That was the hand of God staying the ambition of man.

I always come back from the beach, or a trip to a national park, with a better sense of my priorities and a renewed commitment to simplicity. I feel more connected to God and what’s important. I feel good as a mom, bringing my kids to places where God can be found.

(Even if Kate hasn’t quite caught on and thanked God for s’mores in her evening prayers)

I want them to feel what I feel in these places: small, young and insignificant. I want them to be humbled in the face of something so much bigger and stronger and wiser than they are. Then they’ll know what I know, what anyone with an open heart can know in these places.

God made the waves. God made the rocks.

And God made the Giants.

Celebrate the Wins ~ Jen

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There’s a trend on the mommy blogs right now—full of mea culpas, some of them tongue in cheek, and some not so much. People are holding up examples of their own poor parenting and laughing about it.

Being a mom is hard, and every mom makes tons of mistakes, but starting a blog by saying “I’m pretty open about the fact that I’m not a good parent”? Sad. Maybe the bar was too high before, when every mom was held to some insane June Cleaver standard. But I’m not sure that wearing our bad mommy moments like badges of honor is the way to go either.

Dana said “But look at those blogs. They have thousands of followers. And there are hundreds of comments after the self-deprecating posts. It must resonate with women on some level.”

It’s true. It must resonate.

Here’s my question: What part of them is it resonating with and are we sure we want to cultivate that part?

Glennon, at Momastery wrote this type of post recently. Hers was tongue in cheek. But the comment section was disturbing and telling. From the woman who mopped her floor for the first time in a year—and only because she spilled coffee on it—to the woman who dressed up like she was going to work, dropped her kids off at school, went home, changed, slept for two more hours, went to the movies, put her work clothes back on and picked her kids up five minutes before daycare closed. The comments were full of story after story—not tongue in cheek—that made me cringe. Not necessarily what the women were saying, but how they were saying it: proudly, and cyber high fiving each other.

Then this comment: “I think mommy guilt should be a thing of the past”.

Ahhh. So that’s what’s going on here.

I agree with this statement. Not the way she meant it, that we should not ever feel guilty for the things we do. Guilt is a useful emotion. It reminds us when we have let ourselves and our own values down. If we feel guilt over something that we did, it’s probably for good reason.

But we need a way to reconcile that guilt. In my Catholic faith, we have Reconciliation—we confess our short comings and ask God for forgiveness. I don’t have a ton of mommy guilt in my life. Not because I don’t make mistakes. Of course I make mistakes. And not because I don’t feel guilt—I do. But I reconcile that guilt and then ask God and myself for forgiveness.

The thing that helps the most is this: since I was very young, I have heard my parents describe life like a baseball game. A long game, with extra innings. Lots of at bats. Sometimes we bunt, sometimes we hit a grand slam. And sometimes we drop the ball or strike out. It’s all part of the game.

Parenting is just like that.

The voice inside my head tells me this: “I get it right and sometimes make mistakes”. I had a friend with tremendous mommy guilt who told me that she just couldn’t think like this. She believed that she made mistakes and sometimes got it right. She needed to give herself permission to make mistakes, to not be perfect.

I don’t get it.

First, who’s asking for perfect? No one. But of all the jobs we do, isn’t parenting the one that deserves our very best effort?

And why, why, why would you ever tell yourself you are a screw-up most of the time? Doesn’t that self script just devolve from “I am not capable today” to “I am not capable this week” to “I am not capable”?

We aren’t playing that game here. Our whole lives, Dana and I have reached for excellence—in school, in sports, in marriage, at work and as moms. We take pride in the fact that we mostly got it going on. We will always assume that you mostly got it going on, too. We’re not saying that we’re perfect moms, or that we don’t feel guilt. We’re not and we do.

We’re just saying this: Let’s stop holding up examples of bad motherhood for entertainment. This job we do is important and we need to treat it that way.

Let’s focus on the mostly. Let’s talk about what’s right and good and loving and strong. Let’s celebrate the wins.

As for the rest, reconcile and forgive, baby.

Because it’s almost time for the next inning.