Yes, it’s true, it really is the best. But you have to like ’em real. Appreciate good tequila.
On the rocks.
Lime.
How do I know they are the best? It’s not just because I make them and we drink them. It’s because I learned the mysterious art of making it while we were in Mexico. We were staying in a villa. We had a private chef for the week. She showed me the ways of margarita.
Of course, we also got stuffed on her food, but that’s another story.
The best margarita ever:
1 part fresh squeezed lime juice
1 part simple syrup (equal parts water and sugar, boiled down a bit and cooled)
1 part really good tequila
Here are some tips…
- Like everything in life, use the best, high-quality ingredients you can find.
- If your limes are refrigerated, pop them in the microwave (if you have one) for 20 seconds. You get a lot more juice out of them.
- Use reposado tequila, it’s the right mix of power and smoothness. We like Cazadores reposado, but I am trying Milagro reposado today. I like it so far.
- You don’t have to shake it, just mix it together with a spoon and pour over ice.
Also, I find that 1 lime and equal parts tequila and simple syrup are the right amount for a single serving.
Enjoy!
My boys will only be six for three more days. It is so bittersweet for me. As we approach their birthday I become more and more emotional about it. And I feel more and more unsettled, isolated, and alone with the emotions. I can’t help thinking about the fact that I missed it— I missed their birth. I can’t articulate the intense gratefulness I feel toward their birthmother— grateful beyond my ability to express (words just seem to cheapen it). I can’t wrap my mind around my indebtedness toward the people and place of their roots— Rock (their orphanage director); all of the people who, in individual ways, contributed to granting them life for the first long eight months of their totally vulnerable lives; the country of Haiti for giving me them. It is all so much and the emotions run so wide and so deep. It is hard to explain this to anyone who has never adopted before, and I worry that expressing it just makes me look like a drama queen, making more of something than it is. Adoptive parents (many of them, at least) get it. But others seem to not. And there are lots more others than there are fellow adoptive parents. There is a deep, complicated, complex melancholy I feel about all of this.
And I know my boys feel it too. Different, of course, but kind of the same too. Lots of thoughts, lots of emotions, wide and deep. Yesterday I found them on the back porch blowing bubbles. They were tilting their heads all the way back, looking straight up to the sky, holding the bubble wands above them and blowing the bubbles straight up into the sunlight. As they saw me approaching they happily exclaimed, in unison (yeah, a twin thing, completely in unison)– “We’re blowing bubbles to our birthmother!!!!!” She is right on the surface of their minds in these days.
Today in the car on the way to school Kyle announced: “I want to be rich when I grow up.” I said, “Really? Why?” He said, “Because I want to have lots of money.” I said, “What would you do with all the money?” He said, “I’d buy a speedboat, a house, and I’d help Haiti.” He was dead serious. I told him I thought that was completely respectable. He then told me that “the first thing” he would do for Haiti is that he’d “fly an airplane over the whole country dropping thousands and thousands of soccer balls for all of the kids.”
As we count down the days to their birthday I am reminded yet again of the huge obligation that I have in mothering them. I need to do right by them. Their life story is already so extraordinary, their selves already so exceptional, their future so incredibly bright yet also so burdened. It is pressing: I need to do right by them. I need to do right by her. I need to do right by everyone who has played a role. I need to do right by Haiti. It is big, yes. And I cringe at the thought of the critiques from those who will say that I’m a drama queen for feeling/thinking/saying this, making more of something than it is. But one thing I know for sure is this: it really is this big. If anything, I am understating it.
And so I try hard to hold it all in my one heart: the truth and width and depth of how completely complicated and complex it all is, while at the same time celebrating – truly celebrating – the day of their birth.
By far my favorite t.v. show (and admittedly, the only t.v. show that I watch with any regularity) is Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations on the Travel Channel. For weeks now they’ve been advertising a soon-t0-premiere new episode on Haiti and I’ve been hoping to catch it. Last night was the big night, and I was lucky to be in the right place at the right time! Braydon and I both happened to be in the kitchen (him cleaning up from dinner, me cooking for Swap) when it came on. We stopped everything to stand in front of the t.v., watching every minute of it, and then frantically trying to cook/clean during the commercial breaks.
It was an hour of refreshing television. Not refreshing in the sense of “light and airy and rejuvenating,” but rather, refreshing in the sense of “raw and real and re-jolting.” It was Haiti for real. Not the typical “Haiti” you see on t.v. In true Anthony Bourdain fashion (which is why I love him so much in the first place), it was honest-to-the-depths and without-the-typical-media-gloss. It was the most realistic coverage of Haiti that I’ve seen since returning from Haiti to get the boys in 2005. It brought me right back. I could almost smell, hear, taste Haiti. I could feel it– the heaviness, hopefulness, confusion, clarity, anguish and resilience that is Haiti. At one point, early on in the episode, I broke down sobbing– tears pouring down my face. With K & O’s birthday coming up, I’m overly emotional this week anyway (I’ve always been ridiculously emotional around their birthday and it doesn’t seem to be lessening as the years go on). But aside from my emotionality, the show is just simply heart-and-mind stirring in its own right.
If you have a chance, watch it– click here. The episode is moving and haunting. Just like Haiti: moving and haunting.
At a Lehigh basketball game this past winter.
Thank God For Zahir [TGFZ]. Zahir has been babysitting for us regularly through this spring semester (back story here). And I’ve got to say: he has been a God-send. This was a tough semester for us (just way too much going on and me, especially, being stretched way too thin). I cannot exaggerate how invaluable it was to me for Zahir to step in just exactly when I really needed a great babysitter to step in. He quickly established himself as our Go To Guy for babysitting. And the bambinos could not be happier. The three of them are ecstatic at the mention of Zahir coming to babysit. He is fun; he can toss the them around like they weigh nothing; and he never seems to tire of sports-sports-sports (and not just basketball, either, he can –and does—play it all with the boys). Oh, and he’s reliable, dependable, trust-worthy, and an awesome role-model for my three kids. What more could we ask for?
This past week was Last Week of Classes at Lehigh. The end of one of the toughest semesters ever in the J-M Family History. It just felt like the end of a grueling marathon there at the end. Weeks in advance, knowing the end was somewhere in sight, I had lined up Zahir to babysit on Friday night so that Braydon and I could go out for an End-of-My-Year-Date-Night. I’ve always been thankful for Zahir, but I’ve never been more thankful than I was Friday. He was due to arrive at 6:00, and all day I was counting the minutes.
5:15 I arrive home from an event at work, the bambinos are watching Dora, Braydon immediately leaves to pick up pizzas for Zahir and the kids.
5:20 K & O can’t stand it any longer— even though Zahir’s arrival is still 40 minutes away, they want to wait outside for him to arrive. We turn off Dora and head out.
5:30 Out of nowhere Meera (who has been perfectly fine all day) starts fussing, whining, and clinging. The only time she’s like this is when she’s sick. My heart starts to race and my blood pressure starts to rise. She insists on me holding her.
5:40 Braydon gets home with the pizza to find K & O waiting anxiously at the end of the driveway for Zahir to arrive and Meera lethargic and fussing and slumped in my arms. He runs to get the thermometer.
5:45 Meera’s temp is 102.7 – and she, who usually is just as excited about Zahir coming as her brothers are, is crying saying “I don’t want Zahir! I want Mama!” – my mind is racing – ‘I cannot lose this date night! I’ve been living for this night for weeks! I will die if I have to cancel this night!’ – not to mention: the boys will never forgive me if I cancel Zahir. I quickly devise a plan. Not a plan that will win me any parenting awards, no, no, no. But a plan that will – if all goes well – work.
5:47 I tell Braydon to get the Children’s Motrin ASAP. We load Meera up with it and I cheerfully announce to her, “It is time for bed!” She’s dazed and confused, but too sick and out-of-it to really question anything. I direct the boys to kiss her goodnight (they’re confused too, but are so focused on Zahir’s impending arrival that they barely even notice anything else going on). I swiftly run her upstairs, brush her teeth, change her into her pjs, and rock her to sleep. She’s asleep and settled into her bed within 5 minutes.
6:00 Zahir arrives. But, not only does he arrive, he brings Marquis with him!! This is something I had known Zahir was planning, but he had asked me to keep it a surprise for the boys, and so I had. K & O were beside themselves with thrill. The last time we saw Marquis was at the boys’ birthday party last May. Soon after that he graduated from Lehigh and headed back to his hometown of Portland, Oregon. Not long after he jetted off to play professional basketball in Denmark (click and click). You can imagine the boys’ surprise and EXCITEMENT when Zahir drove into our driveway with Marquis Hall!
6:10 The boys finally give me a minute to hug Marquis (he was, after all, long before he ever even knew K & O, my student at Lehigh!). And then I explain things to Zahir. It went soemething like this: “Z, listen, not even an hour ago Meera suddenly came down with something. She’s got a fever, and she’s a wreck, but we loaded her up with Motrin, and she’s sleeping. If she wakes up, just do the best you can to comfort her, and call us and we’ll come straight home. But, I GOTTA GO. I just gotta go! I need this night! So, here’s the baby monitor. Are you cool with this?” Without hesitating for even a second he said, “Yes. Go!”
TGFZ.
6:15 We left. As we walked out the door, my boys (all four of them) were eating pizza and talking sports.
9:30 We arrive home after a short, but perfect, date night. We had told K & O that since it was so special that Marquis had come to babysit all the way from Denmark (!), they could stay up until we got home (this was a first). When Braydon and I got home from our new favorite restaurant (for anyone who lives around here, you’ve got to check this place out: 1821 Steaks & Cocktails), K, O, Zahir, and Marquis were, all four, just about as happy as could be. All reports were that after pizza they had played football, baseball, and basketball until it was too dark to stay outside any longer… at which point they had sat down at the kitchen table for “table football” (whatever that is?). All I know is that it was probably one of the best nights of Kyle and Owen’s lives.
TGFZ.
We never got a phone call from Zahir while we were out that night. Meera slept through it and never even knew we had left. She woke up later, at midnight, with her fever raging. We ended up having to cancel all of our Saturday plans, and our doctor called in yet another round of antibiotics for our poor girl. But her ear tube surgery is scheduled for later this month, and Braydon and I got our date night, and the boys got not only a night with Zahir and Marquis, but –icing on the cake— a night with Zahir and Marquis alone without their sister drawing any of the attention away, and… well… TGFZ.
Us five will use any excuse we can to eat Mexican food. Since long before the bambinos ever arrived on the scene, Mexican has been the #1 favorite for Braydon and me. And we seem to have successfully transferred that love-for-Mexican-food onto our offspring. They will choose Chipotle, hands down, over any other any form of fast food. They will run to the table for tacos. And there is no junk food that the three of them love more than a giant sized bag of Tostitos Hint of Lime Tortilla Chips. Owen is a lover of the quesadilla. Kyle is a lover of the burrito. And as for Meera – well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree – she’s a girl after my own heart – she’s a lover of chips-and-salsa (add queso dip to the equation and she’s over the moon). She’s really not picky about it (nor am I), she’ll eat just about any salsa, but her (and my) favorite is definitely a recipe that I got from The Pioneer Woman’s blog. For years I’ve been making my own salsa (lots and lots of variations), but the first time we tried this one, well over a year ago now, we fell in love. And I don’t think I’ve made any other version since. We all love it, especially Meera. I stick very close to the recipe, just altering it a bit to take the jalapeño down a notch or two (I’ve learned the hard way to tone it down because no matter how spicy it is, Meera will eat it like crazy, and if it is too spicy she pukes). So…. given that Cinco de Mayo is coming right up, and I—for one—will be making Mexican food this week, I thought I’d link you to this superbly good salsa recipe…. here it is:
http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/2010/01/restaurant-style-salsa/
And, since we’re on the subject of Mexican food and Pioneer Woman recipes, it would be a shame to not share this one too:
http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/2007/06/chile_con_queso/
Seriously, this queso dip is to die for. This recipe was what caused me, about a year ago, for the first time in my life, to buy a block of Velveeta. And it was well worth it. Probably the best homemade queso dip I’ve ever had. Everyone I’ve ever served it to has gone absolutely nuts for it. Including Owen, who has a tendency to just forego the tortilla chips and just eat it with a spoon. (no kidding.) It is that good. Try it and you’ll see. We don’t have this often (just look at the recipe, or the ingredient list on the Velveeta package, and you’ll see why); I only will allow myself to make it 3-4 times a year; but Cinco de Mayo is as good an excuse as any to put Velveeta on the grocery list and whip up a batch of this stuff.
And, of course, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the margs. We’re big fans of them here— I think the bambinos love tequila-free margs almost as much as Braydon and I love the-real-deal margs. We all like ‘em on the rocks. The dramatic and expressive mixing-and-shaking of the drink shaker is perhaps the bambinos’ favorite part of the whole thing.
Here’s to a great upcoming week! For us it isn’t just Cinco de Mayo week, but the countdown to the boys’ birthday too (which just gives us another great reason to have some margs… by the end of this week I’ll need a good margarita or two!!)!
p.s. The Pioneer Woman recipes make a lot of salsa and a lot of queso dip… which is good because they’re even better as leftovers.
“If one is lucky, a solitary fantasy can totally transform one million realities.” ~Maya Angelou
Our Easter gathering is a serious tradition for my dad’s side of the family (click here). But what it all really comes down to is this:
Traditional Easter Saturday Gathering of the Mr. Leslie Johnson Family
And this:
Cousins Before Church on Easter Sunday Morning
We all drive from all over to come together. And come together we do. And all the planning and prepping and packing and pondering-if-this-is-really-still-all-worth-it fades away quickly when the gathering gets going. Oh yes, it is worth it. It is very, very worth it. It is worth it to make the effort to see our extended family of “Easter Cousins” once a year. It is worth it to give our kids the gift of this tradition. It is worth it to remind ourselves of the rituals and routines and religious-life that kept generations before us doing exactly the same thing that we’re doing now: getting together. Making the effort to make it happen. Showing our kids what it is all about. Yes, it is worth it. So worth it.
Secondarily, there is this too:
baskets filled and waiting on Easter Eve
Easter Bunny Magic. Magic, I tell you. Magical! 6:21 am, and the gift that is received by this Mama is much more great and grand than anything that was given. The looks on their faces~~ marvelously magical! A gift unto itself. Yes, so worth it.
“wacky wally” octopuses crawling the walls, umbrella’s opened, sunrise, and hot coffee – this is the stuff that memories are made of
The Easter Finery. A tradition passed down, and passed down, and passed down. Did I have to go all-out with the Easter Sunday church outfits? No, of course not. But was it worth it? Oh yes. Just to see them feeling like a million bucks a piece…. yes, it is worth every cent, every hassle, every late-night-online-purchase-to-make-sure-it-was-all-just-perfect. The ironing, the clothes hanging in the back of the car for the five hour drive, the 30-minutes-I-spent-with-their-clothes-and-a-Stain-Stick-in-our-laundry-room-after-we-returned-home-after-Easter… yes, all worth it.
And somewhere in there were other things well-worth-it too. Things not captured with photos. Things like meals shared and great glasses of wine and connecting conversations; baseball games played on muddy wet fields; Easter “Shows” performed by eager kids for adoring adults; books read aloud; stories told; hugs and kisses; and fishing. Yes, Kyle fished in the cold and pouring rain on Saturday morning for over an hour with his incredibly generous and patient Uncle Mark and never caught a thing. But he loved every minute of it and won’t forget it for a long time (maybe never?). And on Sunday afternoon the kids fished again (this time in the warm and sun). Only one little sunfish was caught, and thrown back (and it wasn’t even caught by the dedicated fisherman Kyle, it was caught by Sadie by happenstance), but still… it was so worth it. Worth it just for the fun of it. Just for the heck of it. Just for the love of it. Worth it just because it is worth it.
Yes, it was all worth it. And it always will be.
When I first started doing this I honestly thought I was the only person who did it (and the first person to think to do it). Oh boy, was I ever wrong about that. Turns out lots of people do it (for one of many examples, click here). I’ll be honest: knowing I’m not the only one doing this has taken some of the thrill out of it (it used to feel so original; so creative; so unique). However, knowing I’m just one of many still doesn’t stop me from doing it, and it definitely doesn’t stop the bambinos from loving it. This is especially fun to do when we have kids over to play because it virtually guarantees that there’s something for everyone (plus there’s the great “wow!” factor when we place the spread onto the table and all the kids go crazy for it). We did this a couple of weeks ago for a playdate with two 2-year olds, one 5-year-old, and the three bambinos. All six kids loved it (and Meera was so excited to share it with her friends – photo above taken on that day right before Meera called out “Snack Time!” and all the kids came running).
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