1. The Magic Room

    I recently read The Magic Room as part of the BlogHer Book club. I cringed when I saw the subtitle “A Story about the Love We Wish for Our Daughters.” just because I want a bigger love for my children than the stories told in this book. I want them to find love with someone else special which may or may not lead to marriage. That’s a given. My life would be incredibly lacking in many ways without the enriching and consuming love in my life.

    More than that, I want them to fall in love and love themselves-take care of themselves, honor their being, and be happy with who they are and who they are becoming each day.

    Then there is the book. We have been on one wedding dress shopping trip so far. It may be our only one. I’ve no idea whether the other children will get married. The whirlwind shopping experience involved one store and several dresses, but one had already been identified as “the dress” in our minds before she even tried it on. Indeed, it was the dress. No magic room. Not an amazing small business passed down through the family, just a chain store and a mass produced dress–but it was the right dress for her.

    Back to the book, first, I found the male father voice a bit vexing as the narrator. He made a lot of pronouncements as if they were true for all fathers and of all mothers. They weren’t. In fact, at points those things irritated me so much I wanted to toss the book aside.

    Then there were points where indeed I wanted to go and have a magical mother/daughter bonding trip to buy a dress to send my daughter into her future. There is a story there in my life of mothers and daughters and raising my daughters that might benefit from the ritual at least in my mind.

    I sorted that out, as I have done before, by reminding myself and one of my daughters that we can go buy a special dress and have a special party without it having to be a wedding. When the time is right and she feels ready–we don’t need a groom to have a ritual saying “this is my child, of whom I am most proud and blessed to have in my family. She’s now mature, ready to make adult choices and live an adult life. While bittersweet, this is a joyous time and celebration. Please surround her now with your joy, love, and blessings as she follows her life path.”

    Ritual and tradition is important in marking our life journeys. I truly believe in it.

    I believe there’s a story in everyone and it often comes to expression in these moments where a dress is bought, a love shone brightly, at least a love story of some sort. In the book, stories are told, of great mother/daughter relationships, of horrible ones, of tragic ones, of relationships with lovers, children, fathers, grandmothers and more. Those stories could have been more magic than the magic room itself. Unfortunately, the narrator left me wishing for more of the stories and less of his opinion, of the lens he put on the stories, which indeed was the only thing he could do, because love stories always are seen through your own lens.

    It did make me want to take a road trip to The Magic Room though. I will be looking for such a business if the time comes to buy a special dress.

    I was compensated for this BlogHer Book Club review but all opinions expressed are my own.

    Category BlogHer, Book Reviews | Date: December 29, 2011 | No Comments

  2. Vegetarian Children Cropping Up All Over

    Last year about this time, I fretted about the vegan child coming for three weeks. Now we don’t have any vegan children. One child has become vegetarian and we have an adult child coming home for Christmas who has been vegetarian for years and years. The vegan has quit being vegan. This is good, because she has moved home for a bit.

    On the other hand, since moving to Illinois, we have fallen out of eating vegetarian in general. This bugs the girl child still at home that became vegetarian. It makes my carnivore child and mother happy.

    I am facing making some changes to every day dinners–not only temporarily since boy child plus girl child plus three “Yay! Vegetarian” family members outweighs vocal carnivore child and mother.

    So, I’ve been tracking what goes over well with the whole family and part of the family. I’ve also been thinking about ways to adapt favorites into vegetarian meals that won’t cause much fuss from the meat eaters.

    I also need to stick to a budget and what can be feasibly obtained this time of year in Illinois. This rules out a lot of fresh vegetables. The quality is middling, the price is high or both.

    The other thing that sort of surprised me was looking at what the family actually enjoys and eats. Pizza, pasta, salads, tacos, burritos and chili were all popular at one time. Now the round of approval for those has fallen (sometimes into “Why did I make this?”) Hmm–all well and good to make a healthy dinner, but not if no one eats. On the other hand, changing tastes have meant recipes I wouldn’t try in the past now shine.

    Sorting all of that out is the challenge I face this month. Healthy meals. Frugal meals. Meals that keep us from being short-order cooks and keep ravenous teens from raiding the kitchen after hours mean happier family and happier mom.

    Step 1 was identifying those things
    Step 2 is working in some new recipes and having the taste kitchen
    Step 3 is refining.

    In the meantime: Baked potato bar with Chili went over well (chili cheese baked potatoes–mutations for the non-chili eater and the various toppings for everyone.

    A cumin crusted tofu with corn/avocado/tomato salsa–very popular with 2 adults, one adult not happy with the corn tortillas, one adult not happy with the tofu–but she ate it anyway. Of course, avocados tripled in price before I could make it again for the younger set of kitchen lab rats.

    Category retro food | Date: December 14, 2011 | 4 Comments

  3. December–More Than Holidays

    Food blogging (and magazines/newspapers/all media) runs on a cycle. It makes life easy in a way. I know that come summer, fresh produce, picnics, barbecue is on the way. The first hint of fall: tailgating, Halloween, fall food. Super Bowl recipes come faithfully every year. I realized though that something irks me and I am going to do something about it this month on this blog.

    From the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving through New Year’s–food blogs fill with cookies, pies, pumpkin, holiday side dishes, appetizers. It’s all lovely and fabulous–and I could post cookie recipes until your eyes bleed. The same with all of the other recipes “of the season.” Goodness knows, I own enough cookie/cooky/holiday cookbooks to blog one a day for an ENTIRE YEAR, possibly a decade.

    It rather misses the point though. You see, 330+ days of the year and at least double that number of meals, have absolutely nothing to do with the occasions in this time span. Yes, we can argue that we celebrate our love for friends, family, co-workers by creating magical gifts and meals from the kitchen around the holidays. Really though, that love is really shown in all those other meals. Those meals we don’t necessarily fuss over, those meals that keep our family nourished, the meal we drop at a friend’s home, a lunch shared at work, a lunch packed for our child show our love. I can pull it all out at Thanksgiving, at Christmas, New Year’s Eve and Day. Everyone will enjoy it. I enjoy the break from the ordinary. The children enjoy the extra baking. (some)

    In the end though, that smile on my love’s face when I make an effort to make dinner from what we have on a bad day, when the 21-year-old realizes there will be “real dinner” on a night when the whole crew isn’t here for dinner and does her little happy step and smile, when my mother says “that was a real treat” because I made a hot breakfast that wasn’t oatmeal, that is the real love in my kitchen.  Those unexpected (and expected) meals and snacks made without a fuss–that’s love. Holidays are sensory overload, show, and fun but not the same as the constant love that flows from my hands into the food I make for my family and friends. I get more “credit” for holiday meals and that can make them fun. In the end though, it’s the prayer that feel better tea will work its magic and wash away illness that matters. It is the dinner that my family knows will fill their bellies before bed and prepared with thoughts of love, of what they need, what they think, what weighs heavy on them that matters. Love in every day meals, nearly every meal of the year, that’s the love song and where I feel led this month.

    That means this month–this blog will be about those daily meals. The ones I use a recipe for, the ones I make from my head, the ones that serve to show the constancy of my love for all of them. (Yes, even on the days when I daydream about a chef, Seattle Sutton for a month, of never HAVING to make another meal, and the days when I say “can’t we just order?” the love is constant and is stirred in, even if it is just something pulled from the fridge or freezer.)  I choose to skip the cookies, cakes, side dishes, pies, and appetizers in blogging this month. If you need a recipe–there are tons in the archives. Enjoy them. We do. We will.

    In the meantime, while planning the whirlwind of food celebration, don’t forget the love that goes into your daily meals.

    Category retro food | Date: December 1, 2011 | 1 Comment

  4. 18 Pearls for 18 Years

    Today my firstborn turns 18. Yes, I now have three older children, but boy child bears responsibility for turning me into a mother, a mommy, and a woman besotted.

    When discussing his birthday gift, the girls said “Oh, that’s easy, you get pearls on your 18th birthday!” Yes, that’s the birthday the girls get pearls. Unfortunately, Tiffany, their little blue boxes, and boy child, don’t quite agree that a mommy can go pick up a string of pearls, write a mushy note, and be done with 18th birthday memory making.

    Instead I share eighteen pearls with you about my son. He claims never to have read his birthday posts, so yes, these pearls are for you and for me.

    1. My mother said that we watched newborn Joseph like television. I rolled my eyes at the time. I still roll my eyes. But the truth: I do. No shows have ever engaged me like the mesmerizing boy I gave birth to 18 years ago.
    2. He’s a feminist. Really. I wish I could credit parenting, but we’ve six children and well, he’s the most feminist of the bunch.
    3. He listens. He listens when you talk to him. He listens to you talk to others. You may think he’s oblivious to everything, but he studies people and their interactions like other boys study basketball and football games.
    4. Speaking of basketball, he doesn’t like basketball. He doesn’t like boats. This doesn’t stop a frequent statement in this house: “Joseph LIKES basketball!”
    5. Another statement in the house: “Look Joseph, there’s a digger!” This came about when Denise and the girls became aware of the parental habit to say “Look Joseph! There’s a digger!” while driving. It started (and continues) as a dig at our habit to cater to the wonder that entered the world eighteen years ago. It annoys me. It annoys Joseph. At the same time, it has become a bit of the family mythology of Joseph and a “mommy and me” thing. Yes, I got him the silver monogrammed digger clock from Lillian Vernon. No, it hasn’t been hidden away. I sort of think it is on the list of “Most Likely” to go to college with him items. Or it may stay here–a monument of sorts.
    6. He doesn’t rush. Ever. He insists on punctuality, yet never wants to arrive (or have others wait) early. He knows precisely how long something takes and he takes that time.
    7. That said, I must also say he’s rigid about routine. He likes a routine. He will cling to it. He’s annoyed by a change of routine (unless he has chosen it). There was a period of time when I thought to try new recipes for Tuesday Night Dinner. It didn’t matter what I served with those new recipes, chosen to entice the children, he didn’t touch it. This perplexed me. He’s not (and never was) a particularly picky eater in the “I won’t try new things.” kind of way. I could have made the same recipe on a Saturday and there’d be no problem. In fact, a few items that were hits with the rest of the family were made again on a weekend and he’d love them. It took us a bit of time before we figured out that after a day of school and whatever else had happened since we had last seen him, what he wanted was something predictable for dinner.
    8. He took his time learning to read. While I say the children learned to read in self-defense, since I read aloud poorly, he took his time. He listened to (and still listens) audio books long after other kids gave them up. He loves books. He just didn’t fall into them. I worried over this for YEARS. Then I prodded him with a YA book I had picked up. One after another book fell to compulsive reading. He’d always read, but suddenly he READ.
      What’s fascinating about his reading isn’t those things though. The fascinating thing is to discuss a book with him. Books I suffered through in high school come alive in a discussion with him. I want to read them again. I want to know why I wasn’t taught the books in this way–a discussion that explores the book or a character or motivations or metaphor in an engaging way.
    9. That said, he can ramble a book or topic in school until you are convinced he could write at least a senior thesis on it, but he won’t have written a single paragraph about it yet for school. His perfection stands in his way here as does the fact that the prescribed questions or topic isn’t what he wants to talk about in the book. In the past two years, he’s gotten much better at either making the assignment suit his desires and as school work advances, he has more options. When you see his written work, you find it well worth the wait in most cases.
    10. Speaking of written, he’s got a unique voice in his writing. He thought to trick me by posting anonymous comments on a site where I work. I pegged him right away. Multiple times.
    11. He has beautiful, long, golden brown hair with a bit of a curl. When younger, it tended toward coarse and we had it cut stereotypically boy short. He grew it out and while uncertain about it (particularly when it was in the puff of doom stage before ponytail length.)
    12. He also has impressive facial hair. This amuses me and befuddles me because his father didn’t have impressive facial hair early and my father had very little body hair. He shaved for the first time this year after years of me thinking he should shave. He still doesn’t shave often, because  of preference, not because there isn’t anything to shave–there is certainly hair to shave.
    13. When people say a person looks like someone else, I never see it. I do with Joseph. He looks like me. He looks like his father. He looks like Rebecca. (in fact, attending the same HUGE high school has been full of quirky encounters because the two of them look so much alike…including approximately the same length hair.) From the back, you really do need to pay attention or know both well to tell the difference.
    14. He’s got a wicked sense of humor. Really, wicked is the right word. He has a degree in snark and sarcasm. You also will really know when he means to wound you with his words.
    15. Speaking of wound: don’t let him poke you. His index fingers are the fingers are poking doom. He finds just the right place on your arm and you will have an aching bruise. He perfected this early.
    16. When he gets to talking to you, you will not get him to stop. (hmm, wonder where he got that from? Sorry.) He’s either silent or expounds on whatever the topic of choice is at that moment. He will know it all and be the expert. (or believe he is. Again. Sorry) It usually is a fascinating conversation.
    17. That brings up this other quirk: he’s incredibly narrowly focused. Whatever his interest, he will learn everything about it that he can. He will talk it to death. He will engage you in it. Airplanes (yes, I still remember fuel capacities of the airplanes in his decidedly non-kid airplane book as a toddler), Pokemon, grilled cheese, Runescape, Japan (and all things Japanese), Dr. Who–all notable. He’s a specialist.
    18. All that said, you may wonder is he a specialist or the “special-ist?” Here is the last pearl and probably the least surprising. This boy of mine spins me like a top. I love him and hang on his words, his movements, his thoughts. Yes, the sun rises and sets with him. He’s entitled, secure in his place, knows he is the prince of his domain. He theoretically knows his Thanksgiving birthday didn’t mean that a national holiday was created for him, but he also knows that we do give thanks for this young man. He is my favorite 18-year-old boy. He is a combination of generous, sweet, self-assured, bright,  and beautiful. He’s annoying, compelling, sensitive and well, fascinating.

    Now if you made it to the end, you are no doubt tired of the praise of boy child. I know I am when I read birthday posts on other people’s blogs, yet I do it just the same. Of course, in my case, it is because I got really lucky with amazing kids.

    One day all too soon, they will all be adults. I’ll be the mom who pushes them from the nest, knowing they are ready to take on the world, while I shed tears and think (and say) “Wait! I am not ready! This is my baby! I need more time.”

    He’s my firstborn. He is 18. I am not ready. I want more time.

    Category retro food | Date: November 25, 2011 | 2 Comments

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