I am a wonderful mother. There are women who become mothers without effort, without thought, without patience or loss; and although they are good mothers and love their children, I know that I will be better. I will be better not because of genetics or money or because I have read more books, but because I have struggled and toiled for this child. I have longed and waited. I have cried and prayed. I have endured and planned over and over again. Like most things in life, the people who truly have appreciation are those who have struggled to attain their dreams. I will notice everything about my child. I will take time to watch my child sleep, explore, and discover. I will marvel at this miracle everyday for the rest of my life. I will be happy when I wake in the middle of the night to the sound of my child, knowing I can comfort, hold, and feed him and that I am not waking to take another temp, pop another pill, take another shot, or cry tears of a broken dream. My dream will be crying for me. I count myself lucky in this sense; that God has given me this insight, this special vision with which I will look upon my child. Whether I parent a child I actually give birth to; or a child that God leads to me; I will not be careless with my love. I will be a better mother for all I have endured. I am a better woman, a better sister, a better daugher, neighbor, and friend because I have known pain. I know disillusionment, as I have been betrayed by my own body. I have been tried by both fire and hell, that many never face, yet given time, I stood tall. I have prevailed. I have succeeded. I have won. So now, when others hurt around me, I do not run from their pain in order to save myself discomfort. I see it, mourn it, and join them in theirs. And even though I cannot make it better, I can make it less lonely. I have learned the immense power of having another hand in mine, of other eyes that moisten as they learn to accept the harsh truth when life is beyond hard. I have learned a compassion that only comes by walking in those shoes. I have learned to further appreciate life. Yes, I am a wonderful mother.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Pinocchio and Wooden Shoes and the Red Thong
The topic is being brought up, this amongst many many more. It's discussions atop discussions and questions and answers and finding the core fibers that are holding this entire entity together. It's the good stuff, the thick stuff, the cornstarch and butter that holds this recipe together. But it's not easy to muddle through it. It's passion, it's real, it's relationships.
We all know that every relationship is something to be worked at. It's to be molded and sculpted into just the right statue that works in your life. Tweaked and tooled with to form just the right amount of give and take. We have learned over the years that some things are really worth the added effort (picking up the phone and calling gradma to say "Hi" just for the pure fear in your heart that if you don't, you'll regret it FOREVER), it's the listening with a soft ear to the words spoken just for the mere lack of energy to really listen with what my mother is saying or agree with her way of living. It's the calling an old friend and saying, "Let's get together," deed because that friend has nothing but interesting things to say; regardless if that such said person thinks they're life is less than boring. I think the time away from the monotony of my life; the everyday tedious bullshit that comes along with being a SAHM that really makes the time spent with these people the love and respect (the glue and safety pins) that really hold these relationships together. It's give and take, love and respect, time and energy, patience and understanding, and it's the yin and the yang and the balance. Yeah blah blah blah.
So...sitting, resting lightly against the throw pillow sitting atop the overstuffed chair in the living room with the words (the worded pillow- it's genius and beautiful! I want worded curtains next-shower or otherwise.)... We sit down to have a discussion about "us". We've been talking about "us" for the past 3 or 4 days which seems like an eternity in love years and we've pretty much fizzled out by this point. We're frazzled.
He says, "What do you plan to do Princess? String me along until you can cut the strings and know I'm a real boy, and we go off and live happily ever after?"
In a very serious face, straight as a board, I reply, "Why yes Pinocchio! That's pretty much exactly what I have been planning."
And?! Laughter.
Both capable to take that deep breath, laugh, and cutting the tension that has resided in the space for days now, laying low like stagnant cigarette smoke in a neighborhood pub. Dark and dingy and disgraceful really.
Now I'm sitting there thinking about a princess, puppeteering out the window of her castle, the wooden shoes, the growing nose when lies are told. The scene from Shrek when they're down in the sewer and Pinocchio is wearing the red thong. And I'm laughing, hysterically thinking about how much I absolutely love the movie Shrek (Shrek 2, and the Third and Forever After) I'm having all these thoughts like an ADHD maniac, images flipping through the undersides of my eyelids like a movie on an old rotary reel...but most importantly--I am laughing...and he's sitting so close to me on this chair, laughing too.
It occurs to me that I just had this entire thought process with about 10 different mini series stories and he's still just sitting there, looking at me, laughing, not even close to being able to comprehend what plays through my mind. He's thought of one thing, this moment. The laughter, the ice breaker, the "things are fine" feeling that resides at the pit of your stomach. He's a man, and monolythic, and thought one thought. Which is perfect. That is what he should be thinking about. This is the exact moment we should be having and I want him to enjoy it.
So, to answer the question again..
Yes! I am a puppeteer. I want to guide and give all the good stuff that comes along with a relationship (and that speaks for all my relationships with friends, family, or lovers alike). I like pulling strings, I already classify my home as my castle, there's reason to talk about shoes (wooden or not) and yeah, growing into a real boy would be wonderful my innocent man and we may ..We may live happily ever after. In the meantime, it's the living part we let play out and laugh about.
P.S.Cleary I still believe in fairytales :)
We all know that every relationship is something to be worked at. It's to be molded and sculpted into just the right statue that works in your life. Tweaked and tooled with to form just the right amount of give and take. We have learned over the years that some things are really worth the added effort (picking up the phone and calling gradma to say "Hi" just for the pure fear in your heart that if you don't, you'll regret it FOREVER), it's the listening with a soft ear to the words spoken just for the mere lack of energy to really listen with what my mother is saying or agree with her way of living. It's the calling an old friend and saying, "Let's get together," deed because that friend has nothing but interesting things to say; regardless if that such said person thinks they're life is less than boring. I think the time away from the monotony of my life; the everyday tedious bullshit that comes along with being a SAHM that really makes the time spent with these people the love and respect (the glue and safety pins) that really hold these relationships together. It's give and take, love and respect, time and energy, patience and understanding, and it's the yin and the yang and the balance. Yeah blah blah blah.
So...sitting, resting lightly against the throw pillow sitting atop the overstuffed chair in the living room with the words (the worded pillow- it's genius and beautiful! I want worded curtains next-shower or otherwise.)... We sit down to have a discussion about "us". We've been talking about "us" for the past 3 or 4 days which seems like an eternity in love years and we've pretty much fizzled out by this point. We're frazzled.
He says, "What do you plan to do Princess? String me along until you can cut the strings and know I'm a real boy, and we go off and live happily ever after?"
In a very serious face, straight as a board, I reply, "Why yes Pinocchio! That's pretty much exactly what I have been planning."
And?! Laughter.
Both capable to take that deep breath, laugh, and cutting the tension that has resided in the space for days now, laying low like stagnant cigarette smoke in a neighborhood pub. Dark and dingy and disgraceful really.
Now I'm sitting there thinking about a princess, puppeteering out the window of her castle, the wooden shoes, the growing nose when lies are told. The scene from Shrek when they're down in the sewer and Pinocchio is wearing the red thong. And I'm laughing, hysterically thinking about how much I absolutely love the movie Shrek (Shrek 2, and the Third and Forever After) I'm having all these thoughts like an ADHD maniac, images flipping through the undersides of my eyelids like a movie on an old rotary reel...but most importantly--I am laughing...and he's sitting so close to me on this chair, laughing too.
It occurs to me that I just had this entire thought process with about 10 different mini series stories and he's still just sitting there, looking at me, laughing, not even close to being able to comprehend what plays through my mind. He's thought of one thing, this moment. The laughter, the ice breaker, the "things are fine" feeling that resides at the pit of your stomach. He's a man, and monolythic, and thought one thought. Which is perfect. That is what he should be thinking about. This is the exact moment we should be having and I want him to enjoy it.
So, to answer the question again..
Yes! I am a puppeteer. I want to guide and give all the good stuff that comes along with a relationship (and that speaks for all my relationships with friends, family, or lovers alike). I like pulling strings, I already classify my home as my castle, there's reason to talk about shoes (wooden or not) and yeah, growing into a real boy would be wonderful my innocent man and we may ..We may live happily ever after. In the meantime, it's the living part we let play out and laugh about.
P.S.Cleary I still believe in fairytales :)
Friday, January 4, 2013
American, Russian, Spanish, Middle Eastern, French, or Italian?!
I love ethnic cuisine. It's difficult for me to prepare an All-American meal of cheeseburgers and french fries. I don't particularly like eating red meat more than once a week and if I had my choice, I'd prefer a steak over boring old hamburger. And I don't have a fry daddy (insert GASP here) so any french fries would most likely need to be frozen and I also don't prefer to eat out of the frozen food section if I can help it all. Don't get me wrong, I'm no saint. There are plenty of frozen foods in my freezer because they're quick and easy and I have kids, it's sometimes just the only way to go.
I can whip up a creamy Spaghetti alla Carbonara, a tantalizing Tabbouleh Salad, any sort of whole chicken (with roasted red potatoes) whether it be lemon peppered or with a fresh rosemary and thyme rub and I can turn around and burn or dry out a meatloaf til nobody (including the dogs) wants it. I've been known for not being the best at preparing a chicken breast meal either. I can usually spruce it up with something but it terrifies me the size of these things that come in the packages at the store. Seriously? It's the size of my face, imagine what the chicken looked like. Uck. I can cut them in half, beat them to a pulp and dredge them in egg and panko crumbs and make a pretty awesome Chicken Parmesan with Angel Hair Pasta and a chunky mushroom marinara all hot crispy under a bubbly layer of Mozzarella cheese. Again, bringing me back to my point. I'm just not supposed to cook for Americans. Maybe Italians? Spanish? Middle Eastern? Certainly French with all the baguettes I bring home. (Oh the thought of bringing home fresh warm baguettes from a small French bakery, a scarf tied in my wind blown hair, the baguette sitting in a basket attached to the front of my Vespa)
...I am often too wrapped up in daydreams... I take that as a hint: I need a vacation!
Speaking of bread... Funniest story...
My two beautiful and lovely blonde friends from Russian were here in the States visiting from their homeland and staying with my family shortly after having Viand (their 2nd visit :) I had some Pillsbury Crescent Rolls in the fridge because I am an American and there are somethings that just make my life easier (along with butter...errr whatever it is that comes in the tubs labeled Country Crock). So, I pop open a can of crescent rolls and their mouths drop open and hit the table they were seated around, making almost the same noise as popping those cans (my favorite little pleasurable sound). "What IS that?"
My reponse, "It's crescent rolls."
"America is so weird. Can I touch it? I've never heard of bread from a can."
...bread from a can... imagine never having seen the easy way of making homestyle rolls or buscuits...some old Russian with an apron on kneeding and flouring the butcher block countertops in a small dimly lit kitchen telling stories to all the children of the Soviets and their Red Party.
The things we take for granted that these lovely single ladies have never even imagined. And when they do find the man of their dreams, marry and have a few children, I will happily ship over Phillsbury (one can at a time if need be) and they can each prepare Borscht and "homemade" buscuits for the entire Семья. Just send me a heads up ladies.
(Tatiana, Myself, and Darina...we had just met, who would have known we'd be friends for life?..and that they didn't have canned bread in Russia?)
I could very easily be a vegetarian if it weren't for fish. I don't prefer one over the other and I can eat it all 7 days of the week if it's prepared correctly, which I find it hard to mess up. Some tin foil, extra virgin olive oil, and lemon, a sprig of oregano and I've got myself a meal. Don't even get me started on seafood! Mussels, Clams, Lobster, Shrimp...oh my!
Nowayds, it appears that everything to prepare a meal for the family (here in the states) is either out of box, out of a can, or stacked in our freezer. It's easy, I get it. Almost as easy as running to the the local fast food stop and stacking up on burgers served in greasy paper through a window. How intimate?! Again, not bragging about my lack of fast food pitfalls but even the last 3 times I tried to treat the kiddos to a happy meal, something in our order was completely effed up and I slap my forehead each and every time. (going off on a rant...((There is a screen in front of me stating my order line item for line item, the friendly smile behind the microphone repeats the order back to me, all correct. I get to the window, we exchange my currency for their product, the world keeps moving in a circle, and I drive off. Next thing?...something entirely unedible.)) and end of rant)
So, onto my next point. Tapas! Tapas is best described as a wide variety of appetizers or snacks in the Spanish cuisine. I love finger foods, their small portions, their easy accessbility, their small and simple presentation and often cutesy appearance. I could throw a dinner party and only have tapas and love the sheer idea of everyone eating off small plates and getting to sample and try a bit this and some of that.
A very common tapas is the Spanish Omelette. It's easy, quick, simple, and perfect.
I use vegetable oil, russet potatoes, onion, garlic and eggs.
In a medium pot, bring vegatable oil to hot. Peel and wash approx 7 medium sized russet potatoes. Cut them into hunks (think like apples for an apple pie) Some people prefer to slice them but I like hunks. (That's the best descriptive word I could think of) and put them into the hot oil.
In the amount of time it takes you to finely chop a medium sized onion and 3 gloves or garlic, the potatoes are ready for the onion and garlic mixture.
Cook until soft
Drain
Put approximately 3 teaspons of olive oil (on low heat) or vegetable oil (on medium heat) into a shallow edged skillet. Beat 6 eggs in a bowl until it's almost creamy and frothy. Add in your drained potatoes, onion, and garlic tossing it all. Add to your warm skillet. Heat until the edges start separating from the edge of the pan, the mixture starts to firm.
(I added a dash of salt and pepper to taste)
To serve, flip back onto a plate, let cool, cut like a pizza into slices. And? Serve with a side of your choice. I'm certain Mayonnaise will suffice to feel more American. It's actually delicious and it's always good served hot, room temp, or out of the fridge for a finger food late night craving. I may not be great at American cuisine but I can certainly cook for like minded foodies around :)
Food is a way to really bring people together. I believe very firmly this is why when couples begin to court, they often go out to eat and then eventually cook for each other. It's an intimate way to get to know each other and an even better reason to invite friends and family over. Tapas are simple to prepare, easy to eat, and I think the best all around for entertaining with a great move-about atmosphere.
Pair Tapas with your favorite wine or my personal favorite, Sangria (making certain to eat the fruit and count them into your daily servings) and laugh and love amongst you all.
Happy Friday! Wishing you a fashionable and well-fed weekend!
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