We’re taking a Christmastime Blog Break!
We’ll be back the week after Christmas!
Due to everything (‘tis the season, please see post below), please accept our sincere apologies for being so incredibly tardy in getting answers to you on all of your blogiversary questions. We can’t wait to answer them (really!). It is fun for us (really!), and something we look forward to (really!). It is just impossible right now to devote the time needed to do it. And the honest truth is that we probably won’t be able to get to it until after Christmas. Check back, though, we keep our promises, and we promise, it will be worth the wait!
I was going to write a post about how I’m feeling right about now, but then I thought, “Wait a minute! Haven’t I already written that post?!” Sure enough, yes indeed, I’ve already written that post. So, I’ll just say this instead: DITTO TO EVERYTHING I WROTE HERE LAST YEAR RIGHT ABOUT NOW. I’ll only add this: Ugh. It just seems to happen every year, no matter how hard I try to keep it at bay, that flood of frantic frenzy that just overtakes me.
I was really doing well until Monday morning. And then it seemed to just come crashing down on me. Braydon had left before it was even light out to go to an early meeting (terrible timing, but he’s having to leave for work early every day this week, before the kids are even awake, which leaves me to do the whole morning routine solo during a week that I could really use my co-parenting partner). Anyway, things were under control, I had gotten them all up and going, finished making the boys’ lunches, fed them all breakfast, and had everyone bundled up to head out the door. We were about to leave to drop off the boys at school when the phone rang. It was Margie, saying she was sick and could not come in. I had to work hard to not have a panic attack. But I accepted my fate and desperately tried to wrap my mind around what this meant for my day and my week. Words cannot express. Ugh. Anyway, now late, I rushed the bambinos into the car and peeled out of our driveway like a bat out of heck. About three minutes down the road I was pulled over by a cop. Nice. He told me I wasn’t speeding but was “all over the road.” He gave me a verbal warning (no ticket, thank my lucky stars!), but when he told me to “remember” that I have “precious cargo on board” (i.e., my three kids in the back seat), I lost it. It was just the little shove that pushed me over the edge. It was going to happen, the only questions were: when? and what was going to set it off? So, there I was, crying my eyes out – a big ugly sobbing meltdown – right there on the side of the road. Owen kept saying, “Mommy, don’t worry! You’re not going to jail!” and Kyle was reaching forward from the backseat to rub my back, while Meera lost it crying, kicking, and screaming “Mommy! Mommy! WhatsamattaMommy?!!!!” and the nice policeman stood there stoically telling me to “calm down, just calm down ma’am” (nice… that’s just what a woman in that state needs: a man to tell her to “calm down”). I finally collected myself, and continued on to drop off K & O at school. I felt a little better after that (sometimes a good cry really does help). I just wish that I could have done it in the presence of Braydon, or my Mom, or Shalinee, instead of in front of my three young children and a cop. Anyway, it was what it was, and then it was over. And I have absolutely no problem letting my kids and the police see that I’m not made of steel and that I do have a breaking point.
There were about a million things leading up to that meltdown. One of the most notable is the following:
Friday I needed to go to my office to deal with something that could not wait until Monday. Fridays are usually my days with Meera, so it was unusual, but I took her with me to the office. I hadn’t brought her there in quite some time. As we entered my building and headed into the lobby area, Meera looked around the office and said to me, matter of factly, “This is Mommy’s office. This is where Mommy lives.” It was one of those moments where time stands still and you feel like you just swallowed your heart in one gulp and it is now sitting in your throat and you’re about to choke on it and die. Our department coordinator overheard it. I said to her, “It is pretty bad when your two year old thinks that you live at your office.” She –nicely— (she’s super nice) laughed and shrugged it off. She always makes me feel better. The truth is, I know that Meera doesn’t really think I live at the office; I know I have a relatively incredibly flexible and cushy job; I know that, all things considered, I’ve got it real good; I know that I should not complain. But Meera’s comment hit me like a ton of bricks. I took a deep breath and tried to tell myself what I know to be true: It is the end of the semester, the hardest time of year for me, and everyone is just tired, this always happens, and we’ll be alright once we get to the other side of this in a few days, right now we’re just seeing the wear and tear. I’m o.k., Meera’s o.k., we’re all o.k…. and we’ll be o.k…. but it will sure be nice when this week is over and we can move on from here.
While the boys are loving their new school, and absolutely thriving beyond all belief, Meera is suddenly feeling lonely and ready for more in her life. Kyle and Owen have a longer school day now, and Meera is on her own with Margie for most of the day. She tells me daily that she doesn’t want to stay at home, doesn’t want to be with Margie, and doesn’t want to have all of us leave her for school/work. I watch her carefully and I can see the shift in her. My heart tells me that she is not o.k. anymore just being at home while the rest of us go off. And if my gut wasn’t already making it clear, Meera said to me yesterday, point blank: “I want to go to my own school BY MYSELF.” She’s making it pretty dang clear: she, at least according to herself, is done with the staying-at-home-with-the-Nanny-routine. She wants more. She wants girlfriends to play with. She wants out of the house. And so, like every stage so far with Meera, she’s pushing the envelope long before we would choose for it to be pushed (can’t she just stay home happily until she starts kindergarten at age five?????). But this, after all, is how our girl rolls. She is sweet and gentle and quiet (at least relative to her brothers), but she has a good track record of letting her needs be known. And so, now, we’re waiting to see if this is just an end-of-the-semester-sick-of-everything-and-everyone phase (a phase that all five of us J-Ms know all too well), or if this is for real. If it is for real, there are all sorts of ramifications. For now, we’re trying to stay tuned in to our daughter, and just giving it a bit to see how it unfolds. Another UGH.
In the meantime, while the end-of-semester-and-creating-Christmas dust is swirling like crazy around us, and I –especially I—am just longing, and so looking forward to, the moment when that dust settles (cue Hallelujah Chorus), we continue to charge forward with valiant attempts to breathe deeply during this, The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year. Ugh.
P.S. One thing is for certain, I can easily keep it all in perspective by reminding myself that while this is a tough time it is waaaaay less tough than it was a few years ago when I needed to strap 18-month-old-K&O in their high chairs and feed them popsicles just in order to steal five minutes to get something – anything! – done. Wow, it is so much easier now!!!!!!!!!!!
Owen is quite a little cook. Anyone who’s ever known Owen has known that Owen is a handful (and a half). Because he is all spunk all the time, they’d be surprised to know how truly great he is in the kitchen. While his energy is boundless, his ability to focus in on a task is extraordinary… when (and if) the task is something he’s interested in. And he’s very interested in food. The boy can eat. Lots. But he can also savor, taste, and enjoy. Of our three bambinos, Owen is definitely the most Foodie. He will often taste something I’ve made and guess, correctly, the ingredients. He knows when I’ve added butter to the macaroni and cheese, and when I haven’t. He’ll experiment with anything and try everything. Nothing daunts him where the culinary world is concerned. He is a food lover and is well on his way to being a really good chef. I could not be more proud. This kid drives me nuts. Daily. But he also makes my heart sing. Daily. He is a whirlwind of messy, a tornado of flour flying, a food-stain magnet. Often I wonder if time spent with him in the kitchen is actually worth it (the clean up takes at least twice as long as it took to cook whatever it was that we cooked). But nothing much delights me more than watching my boy cook. And there is nobody in the whole wide world I’d rather cook with than Owen. I say that with complete sincerity.
His favorite is to help with pasta sauces (because he loves them. all of them). Cooking shrimp scampi:
He also loves grilling (a man after my own heart!). Grilling kabobs:
And he’s absolutely enamored with kitchen tools the way that Kyle is with power tools. One thing most people don’t realize about Owen is that he would choose the Cuisinart over the chainsaw any day of the week:
He sometimes bakes with his sister, or his brother, which he enjoys:
But most often, he cooks alone with Mama, which he enjoys the most. Making himself a cheese omelet:
Meera loves to paint. Watercolor, tempera, finger-paints… she loves it all. Sometimes she’ll get one or more of us to join her at the table painting, other times she’s happy to just paint on her own. But rarely does a day go by that Meera doesn’t spend some significant chunk of time fully immersed in painting.
At some point, months and months ago, Kyle got it into his head that he wanted to play ice hockey. We have no idea where, how, or exactly when, this began. But it took hold and wouldn’t let go. Kyle became insistent that he wanted to play hockey. Kyle had only ever skated on ice a handful of times in his life. We had never seen an ice hockey game on t.v., let alone in real life. Nobody we know plays ice hockey. Nobody we know is even a huge fan of ice hockey. I grew up watching ice hockey (it was big in northern New England), Braydon’s dad played ice hockey growing up (even played in college), but that is about the extent of the familial influence (i.e., very little familial influence). For whatever reason (we’ve never figured it out), Kyle was (and is) determined to play ice hockey. This has, right from the very start, not been something that we have strongly encouraged. We have not discouraged it either. But we definitely have not encouraged it. I, for one, can think of about 100 other sports I’d rather have my son play. Hockey can be a hard, cold, ruthless, vicious sport (thus, my fear and trepidation). Hockey can also be a fast-paced, complex, demanding sport… and about as physically and mentally challenging as it gets (thus, my understanding of why Kyle wants to do it).
At the end of the summer, when it was clear that Kyle’s obsession with playing ice hockey was not going to let up, we offered him a deal: if he took ice skating lessons all fall, and still loved it and wanted to play hockey, then we’d let him sign up for hockey after Christmas. He jumped on the opportunity. Every Friday night, from the start of the school year until now, Kyle has taken ice skating lessons (while Owen took gymnastics). At first, Kyle was right about average in his Beginner Ice Skating class. But he quickly advanced and became the pet of the teacher. She raved about him all fall – telling us how talented he is; what a good listener he is (how “coachable” he is… this is what everyone who has ever coached Kyle in any sport has always told us); what good balance he has; how quickly he masters skills; etc. etc. etc. We kept waiting for Kyle to lose interest, to lose momentum, to lose steam. But he never did. If anything, his obsession with hockey just intensified as each week went on.
At the rink where he took skating, on Friday nights, there was almost always a hockey game going on at the same time (they have two full-sized rinks there— and on Friday nights they use one for figure skating lessons and one for hockey). After his lesson, Kyle would beg and plead to “plllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease” be able to go watch the hockey game. Often it was Lehigh playing (this is their home rink). Sometimes it was a high school game. It didn’t matter what it was, Kyle was enthralled. He’d have stayed there all night, if we’d let him, and he’d often be close to tears as we dragged him out of there kicking and screaming, but he’s only six years old and he needed to get home to bed.
At home this fall, Kyle set up a hockey “rink” in our driveway. Many an afternoon he’d get Owen to join him out there. They played hours and hours of hockey on the cement.
And sometimes on weekends, if Kyle was lucky, Braydon would take Kyle and Owen to “Open Skate” at Kyle’s skating center. Owen loves skating, for fun, and would play hockey any day (both K & O would play any sport any day if ever given the chance). But Owen is not serious about it, nor interested in it, nor obsessed with it, the way that Kyle is.
And so, this past Friday night, Kyle had his last skating lesson of the fall. And now we have to somehow, someway find the strength within us to hold true to our promise and sign him up for hockey after Christmas. He’s earned the chance to try it.
I’ll be honest: I’m not thrilled about it. Again, I can think of about 100 sports I’d rather have my son play. In addition to all of the physical reasons I’m fearful of hockey (i.e., aggression; violence; pain; hard-core man-to-man checking against the glass!), I’m also well-aware of how ridiculously white the sport is. And, let’s just say, I get some vibes from the hockey crowd that don’t rub me the right way where race and racism are concerned. (now I’ll probably get 100 nasty comments on this post for writing that, but honestly, people, it is my honest truth and it must be said). Once again I am faced with the cold hard (no pun intended) reality that I cannot protect my precious son, but only prepare him as best I can.
And so, I’m gathering up my mother-courage to bring my son into this hockey world and cheer for him from the stands. I will hold his hand every step of the way. And we will hope for the best… whatever this little hockey-journey might have in store for us.
Perhaps, once he gets going with it, this hockey thing won’t last? Perhaps it will? Who knows. But you can’t see that look in his eyes, as he’s peering at you through the glass of the rink, and not know that you need to give him a try.
The Meal:
– Chicken Kofta (aka Chicken Balls)
– Basmati Rice
– Mango LassiThis meal is a repeat. I made the Chicken Kofta early in our swap-history and the Mango Lassi was a part of a summer swap meal. Heather informed me that K&O had enjoyed both items in the past; so I decided to make it especially for them, to celebrate their new school!
That being said, Chicken Kofta are a staple in my household. I probably make them a couple of times a month…the kids absolutely love it. I have two different ways of preparing them: One involves saffron (which would be pricey given how often we eat this stuff) and the second is the one I describe below.
And oh yeah, we did holiday pictures last weekend…my camera was out of juice and so I didn’t get to take any pictures of the cooking!
Chicken Kofta
The recipe below serves 4-5.
– 4 tablespoon vegetable oil
– 1 medium onion, chopped
– 2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
– Fresh ginger, chopped, in equal amount to garlic
– Good fistful of baby spinach, chopped
– 1 lb ground chicken
– 3 teaspoon salt
– 2 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
– 2 tablespoon tandoori masala
– 2 teaspoon garam masala
– ~2 tablespoons chopped cilantro
– 1/2 medium tomato, roughly chopped
– 1 inch cinnamon stick
– Pinch of asteofida (optional)
– Pinch of red chili powder
– 1/4 cup tomato sauce
– Pinch of sugarMethod:
– Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
– Heat 2 tablespoons of oil over medium-high heat. Add half the onions and sautee for ~2 minutes, till translucent.
– Add half the ginger and half the garlic and sautee for another minute. Remove from heat, stir in baby spinach and stir till wilted.
– In a mixing bowl, combine onion/ginger/garlic/spinach with ground chicken, half the salt, half the pepper, half the tandoori masala, half the garam masala, and all of the cilantro. Do not over mix.
– Form mixture into balls, place on baking tray, and place baking tray in oven for approximately 12-15 minutes till juices turn brown.
– While chicken is cooking, place the remainder of the onions, ginger and garlic in a food processor. Add in tomatoes and blend into a paste (will require a couple of splashes of water).
– Heat remainder of oil in new pan over medium-high heat. Add in cinnamon sticks and asteofida (optional).
– Once the cinnamon stick starts to warp, add onion/ginger/garlic/tomato paste. (Watch out for splattering.) Stir and stir often, for 2-3 minutes.
– Mix in red chili powder and remainder of tandoori masala. Sautee for another 2-3 minutes, till oil separates.
– Add in tomato sauce, sugar, remainder of salt and pepper. Add in roughly 1/2 cup water.
– Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer for 7-8 minutes.
– Mix in remainder of garam masala and cooked chicken balls. Remove from heat.
– Serve over white rice.Mango Lassi
During the summer, I make lassi for my kids easily 3-4 times a week. Their two favorite flavors are mango and rose (which I make using rose syrup and rosewater). I don’t have a set recipe for making the lassi. I make it using “andaaz,” which is a Hindi (and also Urdu) word that many Indian mothers use to describe their style of cooking….without recipes, based entirely on experience, intuition and the senses (mostly sight and smell).
So, how do I make my mango lassi? Roughly speaking, I blend equal parts yogurt and milk with a little less than equal part mango puree. Then I blend in some sugar, to taste. After blending this proportion, I will then taste and adjust accordingly. If it turns out too thick, add milk…too thin, add yogurt….too sweet, add yogurt….too tart, add sugar (if mango flavor is sufficient), or else add more mango puree. Clearly not a scientific approach but it works for this Indian mother!
The Verdict
I was very excited about Heather’s meal this week. Somehow in all the years of cooking and providing food for my children, I had neglected to introduce them to both lasagna and Caesar salad. Two serious omissions on my part!
And, how did it all go? Well, Heather’s salad was truly awesome! Dave and I had it in K&O quantities, by which I mean that I had 3 helpings and Dave had 4! Seriously good stuff! As for the kids, they were fairly ho-hum about the salad (weirdos!). Their enthusiasm was for the lasagna. Neither could believe “noodles” (their word for all pasta) could be so big…in Alex’s words, “my noodle is humonguch…I love it!” Thanks, Heather, for both delicious meal and introducing my kids to these staples!
Kyle, Wednesday night, pounding down Shalinee’s Mango Lassi
This week for Swap I made Caesar salad. As a “side” I made Spinach Lasagna. Seriously… this salad is so good that it takes center stage and everything else (even the main entree) becomes secondary. Have you ever made homemade Caesar salad? If not, you’re totally missing out. If you like Caesar salad, you’ll love homemade Caesar salad. And I’ve got the best recipe for it in the whole wide world, I kid you not. Braydon and I have been Caesar salad lovers for a long, long time. We consider ourselves sort of Caesar Connoisseurs. And once the bambinos came into the picture they soon became Caesar salad lovers-and-connoisseurs at very early ages. K & O have been eating it, and loving it, since they were barely two. Meera started even earlier. She started eating it, and loving it, basically as soon as she got a couple of teeth to chew with. At this point the three of them will often order Caesar salad when in a restaurant (only if the restaurant is known by them to have a “good Caesar”; they’ll balk at a “bad Caesar”), and at home they eat pounds and pounds of it (again, only if it is “good Caesar”). I’ve always gone through spurts of alternating between making the dressing myself, buying good versions of it, and –of course—we often order it when out. But recently I’ve come across what I believe to be the planet’s best version of homemade Caesar dressing. Recipe posted below. Note— with permission from Shalinee, I broke the “no pasta” rule that we have for Swap because: a) we both agreed that lasagna is something we wouldn’t ever be able to pull of making on a weeknight, thus it isn’t “typical pasta,” and b) I was really aiming for comfort food this week for Kyle and Owen given that they’re still in massive transition from-their-old-school-to-their-new-school.
This week’s meal:
- Caesar Salad
- Spinach Lasagna
- Store-Bought Good Crusty Bread (we warmed this in the oven until crisp, and then ate it dipped in good olive oil with salt, pepper, and herbs – the bambinos go crazy for bread this way)
Homemade Caesar Salad
Caesar Dressing, recipe from At Blanchard’s Table: A Trip to the Beach
1 cup Hellmann’s mayonnaise
3/4 tsp anchovy paste
1 tsp Worcestershire sauce
3 1/2 Tbsp freshly squeezed lemon juice
3 medium garlic cloves, minced
3/4 tsp coarsely cracked black pepper
Put all ingredients into a medium bowl and whisk until well blended. Will keep in the fridge for at least a week.
To prepare salad: Toss romaine lettuce leaves with croutons, freshly grated parmesan cheese, and dressing –to taste. Grind some extra pepper on top.
Notes: I usually half the amount of garlic that the Blanchard’s recipe calls for because we don’t like the garlic to be too overwhelming. One of our favorite ways to eat this salad is as a great stand-alone dinner with grilled shrimp, chicken, or steak on top of it! We also love to make Caesar sandwich wraps with this salad (with or without shrimp/chicken/steak).
Spinach Lasagna
I never use a recipe when it comes to lasagna; just kind of wing it every time. This time I used Barilla no-boil lasagna noodles with the following fillings, layered in between— good quality tomato sauce; grated mozzarella cheese; grated parmesan; and a spinach-ricotta mixture. For the spinach-ricotta mixture: I loaded as much fresh dry spinach as I possibly could into my Cuisinart (tons and tons of tons of it jam-packed in there), and ran it until finely chopped. I mixed this spinach with a big tub of whole-milk-ricotta cheese, and a couple of eggs to bind it together. After layering the lasagna in baking dishes, and topping with parmesan, the lasagnas were ready for the Swap. Shalinee and I could then both bake our lasagnas at 375, covered with foil, until bubbly (about 45-60 minutes), then continue baking, uncovered, until the parmesan cheese on top was slightly browned. Let stand 10 minutes before cutting.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
We loved Shalinee’s dinner. Every time she makes Indian food for us is a special treat. The boys are especially crazy about “Shalinee’s Mango Lassi” (not just “mango lassi”… this is SHALINEE’S MANGO LASSI!). We drank so much of it Wednesday, but there was still just exactly enough left over for the boys to both have a thermos-full in their lunch at school the next day. I can only imagine them trying to explain The Swap to their teacher and classmates!!! Would love to have been a fly on the wall. Anyway, as always, thank you Shalinee!
I rarely get to rock Meera to sleep, actually getting her into bed is something Heather does mostly and something Meera insists on. Tonight was special, tonight was Heather’s last night of teaching the graduate class for the semester (it will crank back up next semester of couse). And since it was the last night, it ran particularly late – I had to put all three kids to bed.
Gently rocking her I felt all the times I had rocked her as a little little baby. At that time she was smaller than the pillow she lay on, the little blanket went fully over her and her head rested on my arm. Tonight, as her breathing got heavier and more even, I noticed how much she is growing up – legs off the end of the pillow and neck in the crook of my arm. But her eyes still slowly close and off she goes.
I read stories to the boys and got them into bed. Kyle accidentally pinched Owen, and we had drama. But reading “Kate and the Beanstalk” while my two sweeties rest in their beds and follow along a story of empowerment and self discovery is something very special. And they settle in together, gently drifting off.
Thursday’s are special. We have pizza on Thursdays. Pizza at Sal’s, or pizza at home, home made, store made, french bread pizza, boxed or frozen. It’s become something we do. It’s a ritual: mommy is working late, it’s Pizza night with papi.
We have baths, get ready for bed, read books. When we hear mommy’s car, we go and hide around the corner and jump out and surprise her; welcoming her home. Or we sit quietly on the couch reading and when she comes up the stairs, the three kids jump up and scream in excitement that she’s home.
Tonight we did go out and went out to Sal’s; I ordered a medium and large pizza. I had three pieces, Meera had one (kind of – she mostly ate Kyle and Owen’s crust). The boys had the rest – there were two pieces left. And they are 6.
It’s not just that they were hungary, or that sharing pizza crusts in a family is fun, or that we draw pictures on the back of the placemats, or that Meera smears her pizza hands all over my shirt, or that Owen mostly wants to watch the man make pizza.
It’s that Thursday night is pizza night with Papi. And it’s special.
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