Snickerdoodle Cashew Butter

My diet has been reasonably restrictive lately. I've been on the first stage of the anti-candida diet (yeast-free diet), which means I can't have sugar (fruit, artificial sweeteners and natural sugar included), dairy, gluten, peanuts, and a whole mess of other things.
I also can't have almonds, because my sweet girl is allergic, and we are still breastfeeding! And, because she also has a peanut allergy, I can't have garbanzo beans...because, as it turns out, they are closely related, and she reacts to them, too.

So, as you can imagine, desserts have been a struggle lately.
The restrictions on my diet rule out most everything I have routinely made for desserts- both healthy and not- in the past. Ice cream and real cookies are out. Almond butter cookies? Out. Garbanzo bean cookies? Out. Fruit pan fried in coconut oil? Out. And most baking recipes call for some sort of sweetener that works as a binder. But, of course, even raw honey (my paleo go-to sweetener) is O-U-T.

And it was out of this little conundrum that this recipe was born. The texture is almost identical to peanut butter when warm, and closer to cookie dough when cold, and the taste is similar to snickerdoodles.
It curbs the sugar cravings like nothing else, and it's guilt-free. Win-win.
Now, is it guilt-free when I go through a whole batch of this in a matter of days? I don't know. I'm not asking questions.

Snickerdoodle Cashew Butter

5 cups whole roasted unsalted cashews
1 tsp extra virgin coconut oil
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp celtic sea salt
2 Tbs pure xylitol
4 packets stevia (with no additives- I use Sweet Leaf)
1 tsp vanilla

Grind the whole cashews on high in a food processor for several minutes, until smooth and creamy. The cashews will go through several stages before becoming creamy- first it will be crumbly, then stiff, then thick, and eventually it will start warming up and getting creamy. Give it time and scrape down the sides when needed.
Once the cashews have formed a butter, add the coconut oil and process well. Then add the rest of the ingredients, process until thoroughly combined, and taste. Add more salt, cinnamon or sweetener to taste.
Store in a container in the fridge.

Spread on toast (or a coconut meat tortilla, if you're eating like me right now), use as a fruit dip, or just eat by the spoonful.

Enjoy!

When Your Hands Are Full, Remember This.

Life gets overwhelming as a mom, sometimes. Sometimes, getting through the day isn’t as easy as it used to be. Sometimes, the house looks like a hurricane blew through it, and the babies are leeches on my legs, and the only thing I want to do is sit down and eat a bite of that food I made for myself thirty minutes ago. I don’t know about you, fellow mamas, but sometimes, I need a little perspective.

Often times, for me, that perspective comes in the form of this note I wrote to myself several years back. I go back to it from time to time, when I need the reminder. 

At the time that I wrote it, I was twenty years old. I had been married for seven months. For each one of those seven months, we had been trying, and failing, to get pregnant. Every month, I had thrown away multiple negative tests. Every month, I began to lose hope. Every month, I got a little more worried that maybe something was wrong. That maybe it wasn’t going to happen for us.

And I remember the sting when other women would get pregnant on accident. I remember the wave of envy that washed over me when women would half-heartedly complain about the woes of pregnancy- the stretch marks, the aches and pains, the fatigue. I remember swearing to myself that, if I ever got pregnant, I would never forget how valuable each painful moment would be. I sat down at my computer that day, threw my thoughts on the page and titled it, “Remember This.”

Remember this.

When I look at my body now,
a little imperfect,
but young and in shape,
I try to imagine what it would look like with a bump instead.
When I look at my hips and stomach,
my skin is smooth.
I’d replace it with a thousand stretch marks for you.
When I look at the number when I set on the scale,
it reads a few pounds heavier than I wish.
But I’d add thirty pounds
if it meant you were on your way.
Don’t wish for your pre-pregnancy body back.

When I want to eat,
I can eat what I want.
When I want to drink,
I drink what I want.
I can have caffeine, feta cheese, any kind of fish, and alcohol.
I’d throw that all away if it meant I could be with you.
Don’t wish to have your pre-pregnancy diet back.

When I wake up in the morning,
I’m not sick.
I can eat what I want,
and go on with my day.
I’d have morning sickness every day of my pregnancy
if it meant I was pregnant with you.
Don’t wish for your pre-pregnancy health back.

When I’m not working,
my day is my own.
I can sleep in as late as I want,
go out whenever I want,
and hang out with my husband
whenever I want.
And I’d give it all up for a moment with you.
Don’t wish for your time to yourself back.

When I clean the house
it stays clean.
I wish there were little hands messing all of it up.
When I go grocery shopping,
I can spend money on little things for me.
I wish I was spending that money on diapers instead.
Don’t wish for a clean house back.

I would rather be trying to work off the pregnancy pounds every day for the rest of my life
than to be spending it without you.
I would rather be covered in stretch marks
than look the way I do now without you.
I would rather be stuck eating on a strict diet for you
than to eat whatever I want without you.
I would rather be bed-ridden with morning sickness
than to be fine and healthy without you.
I would rather be scheduling every moment of my time around your schedule
than to live the rest of my life without you.
I would rather be cleaning up toys and food and who knows what else
off the floors and walls and everywhere else
than to have a perfectly clean home without you.

Don’t forget.

Friends, if you’re in over your head with your kids these days, I hope you can find a little bit of perspective for yourself, too. I hope you can remember what your life was like before the craziness, before the sleeplessness, before the endless piles of laundry. I hope you can remember what that hole in your heart felt like, and what it feels like to have that hole filled.
It doesn’t minimize the stress. It certainly doesn’t make it go away. But it does give you that much-needed reminder that it’s worth it- every single moment.