lime-crusted tilapia

I've been itching to be blogging more - but honestly have had a lot on my mind and schedule lately. That, along with a chaotic/messy house due to our current renovation project (the powder room..oy!) has made it difficult for me to get anything on 'paper.'

So I'll start off easy...a recipe.

I had made this a couple times in the past, but Hubby claims he doesn't remember and that this was the most amazing thing he's eaten in ages! (Totally paraphrasing there.) This doesn't shock me because with two small children I have been making a lot of, well, "kid-friendly" dishes as of late.

There are a lot of foods I regret eating, because they make me feel kind of icky afterward.  But you know what I NEVER regret eating?  Fish.  Fish and veggies and a big glass of red wine.  To me, that is the perfect meal.  Absolutely no guilt, yet fully satisfied.

This dish is perfect for summer because of the lime kick added to the fish.  Lime and summer go together perfectly, don't they?  (Can I get an "Amen" from Corona drinkers???)

Lime Crusted Tilapia

(adapted from this recipe)

Ingredients:

(for the fish)

4 tilapia filets

1 cup Panko bread crumbs

juice from two limes

1/2 cup olive oil

(for the dressing)

1/2 cup mayo

2 TB balsamic vinegar

2 TB honey

1. Pre-heat oven to 400 degrees.

2. Spray a glass baking dish with oil. 

3. Whisk together ingredients for dressing in a small bowl and set aside.

4. Put the Panko in a shallow bowl and whisk the olive oil and lime juice together in another.

5. Coat one filet in the oil and juice mixture, dredge in the Panko crumbs until covered, then place in dish.  Repeat with other filets.  Make sure you use all the Panko.  Just sprinkle whatever doesn't adhere to the filets evenly over the tops before baking.  For an added kick - sprinkle with more lime juice, also!!!!  Go wild, it's summer.

6. Bake for 12-15 minutes.

7. Serve over a bed of spinach and halved cherry tomatoes.  Drizzle liberally with the creamy vinaigrette. 

Enjoy! So, so good!

spinach from my teeny tiny veggie garden -- and can you tell which one tomato is, too? :D

Hope to be back soon with some renovation updates, a lil Stitch Fix action, and, (grandparents, I didn't forget you!!!!) sweet kiddo pics/updates!

mama confessions : parenting through anxiety

climbers gonna climb.

While I've never considered myself a "laid back" kinda gal - I definitely never had anxiety before becoming a parent.  I climbed mountains,  jumped off rocky cliffs and precarious tree limbs into rivers and lakes,  and drove solo across the country never once fearing for my life, or the lives of those around me.

My dad never seemed anxious or worried when taking us on many adventures.  If he ever feared for our lives, he hid it well.  He wanted us to have experiences that would shape us in a positive way.  He was/is passionate about God's creation and desired for his kids to know that passion.

I want my kids to as well...in spite of my first inclination to keep them safely by my side at all times.

Since they are too tiny for mountains and whitewater rafting, we have started small.  Last summer I started taking them both to different parks around our city, for them (and me!) to see all that our area has to offer as far as nature... and let them run wild.  We live in an urban neighborhood, adjacent to a downtown metropolitan area, we'll drive anywhere from five to forty minutes to get to a park where they can roam free.

I have tried to steer them away from the playgrounds to the trails.  To hike and hear the birds and find cool rocks and sticks and bugs.

I realized through these outings that while I have a taste for adventure and love taking my kids places every day, I also have major anxiety issues surrounding these very activities.

I have irrational fear they will fall off imaginary cliffs.

I break out into a sweat when we are near a busy street - and we live on a busy street, so imagine my constant state of anxiousness! Eek!

I panic if I cannot see them every moment we are at a playground.  In the two seconds I do not see one of them I am positive they have been kidnapped.

I imagine crazy scenarios and nearly lose my mind with unease.

If you haven't guessed I am clearly a control freak, and now that my kids are both runners and high-energy, who prefer to be climbing and moving and checking out EVERYTHING than standing calmly by my side, I no longer have the control I had when they were infants.

It drives me bananas.

Yes, this is real anxiety, and yes, I realize they make pills and therapists for this.

Let's just say I pray a lot.  No, seriously.

I believe my anxiety is there for a reason : as a constant reminder I need to trust God.  

I am not a supermom.  I need help every single day.   God knows I am horrible at asking for help,  I believe that in "praying through" the anxiety I am forced to acknowledge that He is in control. For me there is peace in knowing that.

Anyway, I don't want my anxiety to negatively affect my kids and our activities, so I try to go with the flow, appear calm, being cautious, yet not limiting them if there is no real reason. I want them to experience the world with abandon, never being afraid to climb a tree or swing from a rope or explore new places.  Or get in touch with nature.  Like birds, which they seem to love.

counting ducks.  there were sixteen, btw.

finola has a deep infatuation with all birds.  after she ran off all the ducks she moved on to the geese... and got hissed at a few times.

found the perfect climbing tree. 

she plopped down here on her own, to eat her "bo-bish" (Goldfish)

Cormac always finds a hiking stick and tries to climb as high as he can.  Finola always follows Cormac.

"Lean into the hill!  Put down your stick!  Test each rock! Why is your butt so dirty, Finola????" 

By the end of our outing I felt I had lost years of my life due to anxiety.  We climbed up some scary steps to a lookout over the city, and I only told Cormac about thirty times to stay on the safe side of the wall.  (Even though the other side had about five feet of grass before a semi-gradual decline.  In my mind it was the Grand Canyon, or certain death.)

The edge of the cliff.  Have I mentioned I am afraid of heights?

After this little excursion I was more than ready to get home for naps.  But I still felt happy we had gone out, gotten fresh air, climbed up to a beautiful view of the river, where Cormac was able to excitedly point out landmarks while I took deep, cleansing breaths.

+ + + + + + + 

Any other mamas experience this?  How do you work through your anxiety?

here's looking at two.

Dear Finola,

I could not have even dreamed up the delight that you have become at the age of two.  Back when you were a tiny one, my little dream newborn - good eater, reliable sleeper, rarely fussy.  Now you are still all of that - but with more hair, more words, and much, much more FUN.

You are feisty.  I kinda like that.  Your two-year-old tantrums are epic.  Instead of frustrating, they most of the time make me have to hide my laughter.  The other day when I tried to put you in a fancy floral dress for church, you threw a major hissy and were inconsolable.  So I left the room to give you a moment to calm down (and stifle my giggles) since you wouldn't let me near you even for hugs.  When I came back you had managed to take the dress completely off and were laying, smiling, naked on the floor.  Needless to say, we wore another outfit to church that day.

You are physically pretty strong.  You can hold your own in competitions of strength with your brother.  Speed-wise, you are getting pretty fast during your "races" with him.  You still always lose, and have taken to crumpling on the floor when he snottily cheers, "I win!" - but I keep telling you that someday you will win (sometimes.)

Socially, you are at first shy and cling to your mama, but when you know a person well you are generous with hugs and kisses and snuggles.  You say "See you later!" to everyone we know (and don't know) when out and about.

Your favorite foods are pickles, Pringles, bananas, strawberries and cottage cheese.

Ever since your birthday last week you have been greeting me in the morning with "Happy Bird-day, Mama!"

You are in a kissing phase, where every time I pick you up you will grab my face through peals of laughter and plant giant kisses on my cheeks and lips.  "MO! MO KISSES!" you shout.

To celebrate you turning two, we didn't have a party, but we went on an overnight family camping trip.  You did awesome.

"So...where can I drive ya?"

"Camping rocks!  Unless it starts raining...then I hate it." 

On the day of your birthday, a Tuesday, we didn't do anything too wild.  I blew up 36 balloons the night before and filled your room up with them while you slept.  We had donut holes and strawberries for breakfast, two of your favorites.  We opened presents as soon as possible (obviously.)  We saw some friends and you got to play outside quite a bit, since it was a gorgeous, sunny day.  We bought a birthday dinner and a cake from Kroger and I stuck more strawberries on it.  You blew out the candles like a pro!

Donies and strawberries.  A birthday breakfast.

surprised by balloons! (with morning hair!) she might kill me for this photo someday...

"Finola!  Look at all your balloons!"  This was as much fun for Cormac as the bday girl.

birthday hugs from brother!

balloons are fun to squish...and later pop

we couldn't wait til evening to open gifts...so we did it after breakfast!

It was a really sweet day.  

Happy 'two' to you, my crazy Blondie, my love.

our first family camping trip.

I grew up camping.  

When each of us - myself and three siblings - turned three we had officially "come of age" to be ripped from my mother's arms and be carried off by my father to go on overnight camping trips in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area of northern Minnesota.  Here we would get nestled into the middle of canoes, amongst the gear and coolers, drag our tiny hands in the water, attempt to paddle with kid-sized oars, dip mini-fishing poles in, watch the big people set up camp, sip hot chocolate under tarps in the rain, watch my dad and his twin brother chase off black bears, listen to the loons sing, sing campfire songs, and praise God together under a million stars.

My dad taught me, from that tender age of three, the spirituality of the wilderness.

Finola is not three yet.  (She turns two today!)

I don't think I could let her be whisked away to the wild.

But I do want her to start young.

So instead of a birthday party this year, we went camping.

Just for one night.  Just a tiny taste.

It went by quickly and was a lot of fun!  Except the part where, at 10pm, waaaaay past their bedtime, the kids were expected to go to sleep in the tent.  Cormac only fought it a little, but lil miss Fin ran around the tent, chattering, giggling and poking me in the face.  Finally I heard a yawn, she asked for her blanket, which she had been tossing around, and she conked out.

Then Hubby and I had a beer by the fire and congratulated ourselves on a successful first attempt at tent camping with the kiddos.

We can't wait to go again!

fire-making with dada

checking out the sights

child with hot poker in the fire - this looks totally safe, right???

mama hovering around the fire, afraid of blond locks going ablaze.

contemplating nature and life

eyeing her mama's beer

while not super primitive, it was very peaceful

these two...the conversations they have!

I kept saying, "Run wild, my child!" which she did, while repeating that.

Colbie liked relaxing, too.

A lot.

going in and out of the tent was a favorite activity.  I'm surprised we didn't sleep with a million bugs.

campfires are magnets for kiddos. just sayin'.

face smush.

we did the whole "stick the bean can right in the fire" thing - turned out well...and less dishes!

Hubby makes a s'more.

We got a little wet from the morning rain!

"The humidity does wonders for my curls!"

birthday girl 

"Here Finola - have a marshmallow!  I have a whole bag!"

"Fine, I'll eat them all myself."

Breakfast of champions!

packing up...a little earlier than expected, due to rain!

While he wasn't too helpful packing up, he did build this contraption in the trunk.

I am pretty sure one night is all Finola could handle (while we were stuck in the tent during a morning rain shower she shouted repeatedly, "GO HOME NOW!") Cormac, however, was asking if we could stay "five more days."

Three, man.  I'm telling you.  My Dad was right - that is the "magic camping age."

Or simply when we were potty-trained and he could hold us over the side of the canoe to pee-pee.

:)