i love food!!! i love to see it, feel it, taste it, smell it, hear it. yes. hear it. i like to hear it while it sizzles, boils, bubbles and is smashed as such is the case of squeezing air out of risen dough or mixing mushy things with the greatest kitchen utensils of all; hands. i like to hear it being torn. i like to hear it being chopped. i just love food!
my mom was a great cook. every food she touched was the yummiest! sadly, i didn't learn much from her. in fact the only things i can remember, for sure, her teaching me is how to whisk eggs, how to form meatballs and how to stuff shells. i guess i do remember watching her mix the ingredients for meatballs, and the ricotta for shells, but mostly i remember her shooing me, "okay now go while i make _____" and she'd flick her wrist so her fingers would flop up and down twice. as if that gesture was magic i would turn and run off knowing a great treat was in store for dinner. i can still feel my checks high and tight on my face with the giddy smile of anticipation.
when i was pregnant with my son i was obsessively perfecting my cheese cake. he has been working with me in the kitchen since utero. once born he'd sit either in the comfy car seat and watch me cook or bake, or i'd wear him, when not frying or doing things near the stove. he was the first audience member to the cooking show i film in my head complete with invisible cast and crew. thankfully, they never judge me when the outcomes are poor.
as mikey got bigger he'd stand on a chair and watch. then he was my big helper, carefully listening to every word i had to say about why tomatoes are beautiful and how lovely their marriage is with crusty, garlic, rubbed bread; smooth, thick olive oil and a touch of salt and pepper. for the longest time we baked every monday morning. at first i'd do the measuring and he'd do the pouring and mixing. always from scratch. he is four now and knows very well how to crack eggs. perfectly retrieve any tiny bit of shell using the shell. mix and smash the best meatloaf and make the yummiest of billy's vanilla-vanilla cupcakes. he even sits and watches the cooking shows with me on tv calling me into the room when ina or giada come on.
the other morning i realized the cooking show that has been secretly taped for a little over four years, if your counting the cooking lessons while in utero, has grown it's audience by one!! my daughter, now 1 1/2 is very excited about the go'ins-on in the kitchen. "cook? cook?" she says while reaching up for me to hold her whenever we enter the kitchen. she even whisked her first eggs this very morning! i may not have many of my moms coveted recipes but one thing she did pass down was her passion for food. this, i do believe, has been handed to mikey and grace as well. so each morning we prep together, we mix together, and peer into pans and even oven windows together. all filled with excitement and anticipation of whats to come. of coarse, the pure enjoyment of cooking together is ever so rewarding in itself, but i want and hope and think, i have passed this wonderful all senses awake kind of food passion on to them. manja!!
confessions of a stay at home wife and mother
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
the game of clean up
monday and friday are usually big cleaning days at our house. i feel like i'm recovering form a lack of keeping-up over the weekend on monday, and gearing up for not keeping-up over the weekend on friday. vacuuming carpets, steam mopping floors and a super thorough cleaning of the bathrooms. in general, my kids enjoy the clean up. their is an age that either children love the vacuum or fear it. of coarse i have yet to reach the age of loathing the chore of vacuuming, although i hear it will someday come. i've tried a few methods to get the kids in on the act. "you better clean up your toys or i may vacuum them up..." this never ends very well. how could it with a beginning like that? my poor boy.
we have things like small child sized brooms that play music. i turn the vacuum over to my boy of four and don't think twice when his vacuum lines in the carpet don't overlap the way i like them to. my daughter of 1 1/2 enjoys wiping things and dusting. we play music loudly and dance around with our cleaning accessories singing all the clean up songs that i can think of or make up. it really is quite fun. i pray it will last long into their teenage years.
the funny thing is, while at the table grace still enjoys purposefully dropping food on the floor and then singing the clean up song while gazing over her tray at it. i'm begining to wonder if this exciting type of cleaning up isn't going to just backfire on me. "it's okay if i make a mess mommy, and it's so fun to clean it up i'm gonna let you do it!" i can just imagine. for now i will enjoy their enjoyment in the game of clean up and be thankful for it.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
mommy's red corduroy chair
i have this chair. it is red, corduroy and slopes funny in the back. i remember this chair from my childhood. i remember curling up, laying on my side and watching i dream of genie and gilligan's island in it. i remember when the young and wrestles came on and the piano music started to play it was my cue to close my eyes and not to open them again until the music from general hospital was playing. i played behind it in the strange nook that the sloppy back created. it was a great place for barbie and her friends to sit and share tea. it was a fun place to put my coloring books and crayons, tape recorder, tapes and the books that came along with them. this chair has followed me always. this chair has waited patiently for me always. sometimes in strange basements, sometimes on porches, sometimes in garages. i used to question myself often, 'why do i keep lugging this chair around?' 'is it worth it?' i have dropped a lot of stuff off at good will and salvation army in my many moves but always kept this chair. people would say, "that chair is dirty" " that chair is weird" "it's not the chair you love, it's the memories attached to that chair". yes and no. the chair is dirty. it is weird. i do love these memories. i also happen to love the chair. it is also one of the few things that i have that belonged to someone i loved very much, who also loved this chair.
so now i have my own house. we have been here almost a year and still this chair has yet to be cleaned. i have often wondered, 'maybe it is time for this chair to find another home?' until the other night. the chair is currently in our playroom. my son, daughter and i were in there playing. mikey was curled up in my old, red, corduroy, chair watching spider-man. that in-itself was very heart warming to me. it made me think, this is still a comfy chair, perfect for a small child to curl up and dream and imagine in.' it was about then that i noticed my daughter was stinky. i got a fresh diaper and the box of wipes, sat on the floor and called her to come for fresh pants. grace is infact a rascal. she quickly ran away. she ran to the red, corduroy chair, climbed up, squished in next to her brother and rested her head on his shoulder. 'this is why i kept the chair' i thought to myself. because along time ago i dreamed of having kids and watching them play in this strange sloppy chair. i wanted to watch them sleep, dream and imagine in this chair. i had a hope and a dream that one day that would happen. here it was. like God had gift wrapped my dream, tied it in a nice big bow and handed it to me. what a wonderful dream to see realized.
i have this chair. it's red, corduroy and slopes funny in the back. it held me as a child. aided my sleeping and dreaming and now is handing them back to me gift wrapped by God Himself. i love this chair.
so now i have my own house. we have been here almost a year and still this chair has yet to be cleaned. i have often wondered, 'maybe it is time for this chair to find another home?' until the other night. the chair is currently in our playroom. my son, daughter and i were in there playing. mikey was curled up in my old, red, corduroy, chair watching spider-man. that in-itself was very heart warming to me. it made me think, this is still a comfy chair, perfect for a small child to curl up and dream and imagine in.' it was about then that i noticed my daughter was stinky. i got a fresh diaper and the box of wipes, sat on the floor and called her to come for fresh pants. grace is infact a rascal. she quickly ran away. she ran to the red, corduroy chair, climbed up, squished in next to her brother and rested her head on his shoulder. 'this is why i kept the chair' i thought to myself. because along time ago i dreamed of having kids and watching them play in this strange sloppy chair. i wanted to watch them sleep, dream and imagine in this chair. i had a hope and a dream that one day that would happen. here it was. like God had gift wrapped my dream, tied it in a nice big bow and handed it to me. what a wonderful dream to see realized.
i have this chair. it's red, corduroy and slopes funny in the back. it held me as a child. aided my sleeping and dreaming and now is handing them back to me gift wrapped by God Himself. i love this chair.
my children are nudists
i am beginning to think that my children are nudists. sure, it's one thing in the summer to have the desire to take off articles of clothes. it's hot. it's humid. they're young enough. they do not yet understand that it's socially unacceptable to disrobe in public simply because your hot. weather in your own back yard, or the park. to them? it's all relative.
the other morning, i walked into my daughters room to get her out of her crib and greet the morning. she had been in there for a little while talking with her various stuffed animal friends while i ground coffee beans and set the machine to full octane. the night before she was dressed in a diaper, a long sleeve onesie and fleece-feetie-jams that once belonged to her brother. when i walked into her room she was wearing her diaper and half of her onsie. the fleece-feetie-jams were on the floor as if thrown carelessly by a teenager. she is only 19 months old.
okay, i get it. the zipper on the front of the fleece-feetie-jams is very fun to play with. and grace has been witness to the countless times her brother sports a sweatshirt only for the pure joy of unzipping it and pulling it open to reveal his "super" shirt, a phenomenon know in our household as, "ripping his shirt" complete with the superman soundtrack "deet de de deeee!" as played by his mouth. while i was a little stunned that my daughter had started to get undressed without me, i was able to explain it all away.
i brought her into my room, let her tuck herself under my covers and lay her head on my fluffy pillows while i put her favorite cartoon, ciallou, on the telly. once the theme song started i proceeded out the room to the kitchen for my coffee. only i was stoped in my tracks at another strange sight. i backed up. literally. walked backwards thinking my eyes were deceiving me. i peek into the cracked door way of my four yr.old son's room, and yes. he too was naked. naked as the day he was born, crouched under his bed, hinney up in the air, arms bracing his upper body, his face as scrunchy as can be. i pushed his door open a little more, "mikey?" i asked. boy did i scare him! he jumped higher on all fours then i thought possible while crouching under a bed.
"mommmmmyyyy!"
"mikey? honey? what on God's great earth are you doing?" i asked, holding my breath for the answer.
"mommy," he started. then, as if in defeat, he set his forehead down on the silvery, grey, carpet before him. "i'm turning into batman."
i shook my head, closed his door and headed down the hall for my coffee. this is how the day started. i don't ever recall bruce wayne turning into the batman in such a manner, but if my children grow up to be nudist, i won't be surprised.
the other morning, i walked into my daughters room to get her out of her crib and greet the morning. she had been in there for a little while talking with her various stuffed animal friends while i ground coffee beans and set the machine to full octane. the night before she was dressed in a diaper, a long sleeve onesie and fleece-feetie-jams that once belonged to her brother. when i walked into her room she was wearing her diaper and half of her onsie. the fleece-feetie-jams were on the floor as if thrown carelessly by a teenager. she is only 19 months old.
okay, i get it. the zipper on the front of the fleece-feetie-jams is very fun to play with. and grace has been witness to the countless times her brother sports a sweatshirt only for the pure joy of unzipping it and pulling it open to reveal his "super" shirt, a phenomenon know in our household as, "ripping his shirt" complete with the superman soundtrack "deet de de deeee!" as played by his mouth. while i was a little stunned that my daughter had started to get undressed without me, i was able to explain it all away.
i brought her into my room, let her tuck herself under my covers and lay her head on my fluffy pillows while i put her favorite cartoon, ciallou, on the telly. once the theme song started i proceeded out the room to the kitchen for my coffee. only i was stoped in my tracks at another strange sight. i backed up. literally. walked backwards thinking my eyes were deceiving me. i peek into the cracked door way of my four yr.old son's room, and yes. he too was naked. naked as the day he was born, crouched under his bed, hinney up in the air, arms bracing his upper body, his face as scrunchy as can be. i pushed his door open a little more, "mikey?" i asked. boy did i scare him! he jumped higher on all fours then i thought possible while crouching under a bed.
"mommmmmyyyy!"
"mikey? honey? what on God's great earth are you doing?" i asked, holding my breath for the answer.
"mommy," he started. then, as if in defeat, he set his forehead down on the silvery, grey, carpet before him. "i'm turning into batman."
i shook my head, closed his door and headed down the hall for my coffee. this is how the day started. i don't ever recall bruce wayne turning into the batman in such a manner, but if my children grow up to be nudist, i won't be surprised.
mommy's throwing a temper aria!!
their has been a lot of talk, in the small groups i talk with, about temper tantrums. moms venting to moms about their small children throwing themselves around on the floor, flailing about in convulsive ways. asking other moms, how long will this last? laughing about the ridiculousness of it. crying about the embarrisingness of it when it takes place in public. i've heard a few moms say, "wait 'til your two year old reaches puberty" this one always makes me laugh, unless they are saying it to me of coarse, in which case i say a quick prayer for peace to fall fresh over my children and patience to implant itself into my core being, and never leave. ( i know, praying for patience is expecting to have ample chances to practice patience, at every single second of the day. )
can i just be honest? i am going to be 32 years old very soon. i am still throwing temper tantrums. they come while trying to clean up the kitchen. they come while unloading groceries and children out of the car and up to our second floor kitchen. they come while i'm trying to get out the door, already very late, on the way to church ~ hahaah!! they come while i'm praying for patience!! hahaahaaah!! and they sound like either the sound of music or phantom of the opera. no kidding. ever since i can remember, i've been getting in trouble for humming. i got my first handful of detentions for humming in miss mencer's first grade class. i didn't even know i was humming, how could i fess up unless i was aware i was doing it? that's how often and how long i've been a hummer. i hum or sing when i'm nervous. i hum or sing when i am happy. i hum or sing when i am sad. i hum or sing when i am angry. i am a soprano. i am loud. and like to sing in an operatic kind of way when i am angry. this doesn't happen often, but often enough that my daughter is now singing along in her best mommy's-soprano-aria impression that a 1 1/2 year old possibly can. from the bottom of my being i sing!! " in dreams he saaaang to meeee ~ a straaaange duet ~ " or " how do you solve a problem like maria ~ " i figure, it's perfect deep breathing exercises and i'm releasing a bit of frustration disguised as a crazy need to just belt it out. no one has to know. but everyone hears.
i no longer sweat it when grace rolls around the floor picking up her feet and slamming them back down again. when mikey throws his head back and whines loudly in protest. instead i take a deep breath, and sing!! "how do you catch a cloud and pin it down ~ " we must be the strangest sight and sound at the grocery store.
can i just be honest? i am going to be 32 years old very soon. i am still throwing temper tantrums. they come while trying to clean up the kitchen. they come while unloading groceries and children out of the car and up to our second floor kitchen. they come while i'm trying to get out the door, already very late, on the way to church ~ hahaah!! they come while i'm praying for patience!! hahaahaaah!! and they sound like either the sound of music or phantom of the opera. no kidding. ever since i can remember, i've been getting in trouble for humming. i got my first handful of detentions for humming in miss mencer's first grade class. i didn't even know i was humming, how could i fess up unless i was aware i was doing it? that's how often and how long i've been a hummer. i hum or sing when i'm nervous. i hum or sing when i am happy. i hum or sing when i am sad. i hum or sing when i am angry. i am a soprano. i am loud. and like to sing in an operatic kind of way when i am angry. this doesn't happen often, but often enough that my daughter is now singing along in her best mommy's-soprano-aria impression that a 1 1/2 year old possibly can. from the bottom of my being i sing!! " in dreams he saaaang to meeee ~ a straaaange duet ~ " or " how do you solve a problem like maria ~ " i figure, it's perfect deep breathing exercises and i'm releasing a bit of frustration disguised as a crazy need to just belt it out. no one has to know. but everyone hears.
i no longer sweat it when grace rolls around the floor picking up her feet and slamming them back down again. when mikey throws his head back and whines loudly in protest. instead i take a deep breath, and sing!! "how do you catch a cloud and pin it down ~ " we must be the strangest sight and sound at the grocery store.
piles of wishbones
as a little girl i remember seeing wishbones on the kitchen counter. my mom would save them after using chickens for roasting or for soups. i'd see one drying for a few days and the anticipation of either her and i, or her and my brother holding either side, making a wish and braking it to see who got the center piece would just tickle me. whoever got the center piece of the wishbone got their wish granted. by who? i don't know. did it work? i don't know that either. i never made a wish. the mere act of taking part in this strange ritual was so exciting, that i could never have a wish made by the time my mom asked, "ready?" i was always ready for the participation in the wishbone brake, but never ready with a wish. i always answered with a yes anyway. i only ever got that center piece of the bone once that i can even remember. braking it always seemed a shame. all the excitement for me was placed in the anticipation. 'maybe she'll ask me to do the wishbone with her!' i'd always think. a few times i'd find it had disappeared and i ask about it. she'd say, "oh i did it with chuckie" and my heart would sink a little. not because she did it with chuckie, my older brother, but more so because it was gone. over. the anticipation of it all was gone. we weren't superstitious growing up but we did these funny things together that have stuck with me. this wishbone thing is one of them.
i have my own kitchen now and in it is a window with three very dried chicken wishbones and even one from a turkey, sitting on the sill. the first four birds i ever cooked on my own. my first four wishbones. their plenty dry and would be easy to brake. i've thought about starting the ritual with my kids. my son is four and my daughter is 1 1/2. mikey is old enough but every time i think about it, i say to myself, 'no not right now. besides, i don't even have a wish ready.' and that thought has made me so thankful. to have no wish. i have many wishbones and no wish. we are blessed. we have full bellies, a warm house,good health, love to spare and a loving Heavenly Father. this is more then enough. 'no,' i think to myself. 'i'll save these wishbones for a day when i have a wish to make.' thinking about it... it never was about the wish. it was the anticipation of it all. it was about the person who i did it with and that brief moment in time that we shared together. how could i keep such a charming memory to myself and not share it with my kids? their is a possibility for them to look back and say, 'my mom had this strange collection of wishbones, you'd think she was a witchdoctor.' or 'we had this great ritual at our house with wishbones...'
wish or no wish, i think tomorrow our pile of wishbones will need to be replenished.
i have my own kitchen now and in it is a window with three very dried chicken wishbones and even one from a turkey, sitting on the sill. the first four birds i ever cooked on my own. my first four wishbones. their plenty dry and would be easy to brake. i've thought about starting the ritual with my kids. my son is four and my daughter is 1 1/2. mikey is old enough but every time i think about it, i say to myself, 'no not right now. besides, i don't even have a wish ready.' and that thought has made me so thankful. to have no wish. i have many wishbones and no wish. we are blessed. we have full bellies, a warm house,good health, love to spare and a loving Heavenly Father. this is more then enough. 'no,' i think to myself. 'i'll save these wishbones for a day when i have a wish to make.' thinking about it... it never was about the wish. it was the anticipation of it all. it was about the person who i did it with and that brief moment in time that we shared together. how could i keep such a charming memory to myself and not share it with my kids? their is a possibility for them to look back and say, 'my mom had this strange collection of wishbones, you'd think she was a witchdoctor.' or 'we had this great ritual at our house with wishbones...'
wish or no wish, i think tomorrow our pile of wishbones will need to be replenished.
my son, superman and i must fly!!
my son is on a first name basis with superman. for the longest time mikey called him super. "hey mommy, do you know where super is?" ",,,yeah, me and super defeated brainyac today while gwacie-gail took her nap." these days, they are so close that superman's nickname even has a nickname. it is now sup, pronounced: soup.
the other day mikey asked me, "hey mommy, how come when sup had to save lois, but he didn't want her to know he was sup, so he kept his clark glasses on...well he used his laser vision to make that tree fall into the water, but his glasses didn't burn up?"
what in the world? is this like, the deepest four year old ever or is he really that close to sup that he not only notices this stuff, but he thinks about it. and my, oh my, he thinks i have the answers! thankfully his daddy knows about lasers and sup's super vision 'cuz phew!! that was a doozie!
that same day mikey says to me, "ya know mommy, the superman music is different in part one than part four," these are the classic movies mind you.
"how so buddy?" i ask waiting for a comedic response.
"well, their are more horns in the music in the first movie and more strings in the music in the fourth movie."
'what?' i think to myself. 'how in the world does he see this stuff? how in the world is he hearing this stuff?'
then i realize just how precious it truely is. his mind soaking up the world, still very new and exciting, even at four. hearing the sounds of it all, still so new to him. not having to muddle his way through the clutter in his mind to be able to enjoy it. his play time with his friend sup, that i know beyond the shadow of a doubt, he thinks is really flying right beside him, arms up over their heads. way up over the couch and around the light hanging over the dinnng room table. in his mind he might as well be superman.
in my mind, i see my small boy of four, full of wonder, full of anticipation, full of excitiment with all their is around him and i pray, 'oh Lord don't ever let him loose his gusto for life. i know one day his mind will be full of other things, rather then superman and his lasor vision, but please Heavenly Father, i pray his wild creativity will stay with him and close to you always. so you can navigate him through lifes many questions.'
and maybe, just maybe, i could cut the clutter out of my mind and actually watch more of the movie of life playing out infront of me. hear more of the music, the soundtrack, of everyday life. in fact, maybe tomorrow, when mikey and sup are flying through the house, over the couch and around the light hanging over the dinnng room table, just maybe i'll go flying with them? i wonder what my new nickname will be?
the other day mikey asked me, "hey mommy, how come when sup had to save lois, but he didn't want her to know he was sup, so he kept his clark glasses on...well he used his laser vision to make that tree fall into the water, but his glasses didn't burn up?"
what in the world? is this like, the deepest four year old ever or is he really that close to sup that he not only notices this stuff, but he thinks about it. and my, oh my, he thinks i have the answers! thankfully his daddy knows about lasers and sup's super vision 'cuz phew!! that was a doozie!
that same day mikey says to me, "ya know mommy, the superman music is different in part one than part four," these are the classic movies mind you.
"how so buddy?" i ask waiting for a comedic response.
"well, their are more horns in the music in the first movie and more strings in the music in the fourth movie."
'what?' i think to myself. 'how in the world does he see this stuff? how in the world is he hearing this stuff?'
then i realize just how precious it truely is. his mind soaking up the world, still very new and exciting, even at four. hearing the sounds of it all, still so new to him. not having to muddle his way through the clutter in his mind to be able to enjoy it. his play time with his friend sup, that i know beyond the shadow of a doubt, he thinks is really flying right beside him, arms up over their heads. way up over the couch and around the light hanging over the dinnng room table. in his mind he might as well be superman.
in my mind, i see my small boy of four, full of wonder, full of anticipation, full of excitiment with all their is around him and i pray, 'oh Lord don't ever let him loose his gusto for life. i know one day his mind will be full of other things, rather then superman and his lasor vision, but please Heavenly Father, i pray his wild creativity will stay with him and close to you always. so you can navigate him through lifes many questions.'
and maybe, just maybe, i could cut the clutter out of my mind and actually watch more of the movie of life playing out infront of me. hear more of the music, the soundtrack, of everyday life. in fact, maybe tomorrow, when mikey and sup are flying through the house, over the couch and around the light hanging over the dinnng room table, just maybe i'll go flying with them? i wonder what my new nickname will be?
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