Cold Hard B**tch

So, two posts in one day is pretty crazy. But Christian told me this tidbit last night, and I had to get it down.

I was at yoga Tuesday night, and Christian was home alone with the boys for dinner and the evening routine. Apparently, the radio was on while they were eating dinner (Christian has this thing for dinner music. Always has to have something.) A song comes on. Not just any song. This song by Jet.

And Will -- who always listens so intently to music of any kind -- listens. Then he says:

"Dad, is it okay if I get down and dance?"

And he proceeds to get out of his seat, rock out (air guitar style), and then get back up to finish eating his dinner.

We may be in for one of these when Will grows up:

Thar she blows!, or Sad Day

I lost it Monday night. It was shades of my post-partum madness, and it scared me a little. Sometimes you just know that you don't have any reserves left at that moment to gracefully handle a horrible, trying situation.

I thought I had moved past this -- I really did. Shows how naive I can be. Both kids just screaming and nothing working to calm them down.

I told Will, "Mommy needs a time-out right now," as Ian wimpered in his crib upstairs for a few minutes.
"Why Mom?" said Will.
"Because I need time to cool off, honey. To calm down. That's what a time out is for, right? When we get really upset or frustrated and need to be alone to calm down."

I sat on the big red chair and breathed a little. Got really angry with myself for feeling this way. Will waited patiently for me to be done.

And slowly, I regained a little perspective. I was tired, after all. I was wanting to sit down and eat a normal dinner, dammit. I wanted someone -- anyone! -- to appreciate the meal I'd cooked after a day at work and not much sleep the past week or so. I wanted so many things...

But I realized, once I got Ian out of his crib and we were all playing nicely on the floor of their room, and I'd stopped worrying about how neither child had eaten anything for dinner (again) -- weren't they going to starve?? -- that sometimes you can't always get what you want. But if you try sometimes, you might find, you get what you need.

And what I needed last night was some perspective. I needed to stop worrying and just enjoy my crazy kids for who they are. I needed to give myself a giant break. I am doing the best I can.

We are all doing the best we can.

Slice of Heaven

 

I love lunch. Sandwiches for lunch, to be exact. Neither of my kids has inherited this trait yet (I don't count PB&J) -- but there's still time. Time to make them wonderful, perfectly-balanced meals lovingly placed between two pieces of tasty bread. Ask my husband, I am incapable of "just making a sandwich." He hates it. But, he loves my sandwiches...

When I worked in a from-scratch bakery and cafe in VA, we had tons of fun coming up with new sandwich combos. We used fresh bread made on-site, and every time we needed to change the menu I got so excited. These sandwiches were, um, gourmet (if you can excuse the term). But all were just good.

On our honeymoon in the south of France, my hands-down favorite meal was a picnic lunch we had on the outskirts of Bonne, in Bourgogne. We bought sandwiches in town before we went (and before the wine). Oh, these sandwiches. I still dream of them:

Fresh, perfect chewy crusty baguette, enclosing fresh sliced local ham on a creamy pillow of real salted butter, and topped with Emmentaler cheese.

GASP! Butter on a sandwich?? My life was never the same... Sip a cool, balanced white Burgundy with that and just let everything else melt away.

So the other day, I made a sandwich for myself for lunch. Toasted wheat bread, deli ham, NY state cheddar cheese, vine tomatoes (OK, these are out of season, but they're better than the mushy bland alternative), green leaf lettuce from my garden, and a slather of mayo and Dijon mustard. Oh yeah, and some S&P on the tomatoes.

And then, folks -- I took a picture of it for posterity, 'cause that's how I do.

The Spice Road

Turns out to be the road less traveled in this house. Last night's dinner was something I was craving. This is usually when I enjoy cooking the most:

Chicken Curry with Tomatoes (Murgha Kari)

This dish from the Punjab takes only 30 minutes to prepare. [Did you read that? Only 30 mins!! Well, ahem. My chicken took a bit longer than 15 mins to cook to doneness. I guess chickens in the Punjab are much smaller than U.S. birds.] In India fresh tomatoes would be used in this dish.


4 medium onions, chopped [I only used 1.5 large ones, Vidalia]
2 tablespoons curry powder
1/2 cup butter or cooking oil [I used about 2 TB butter and 1/4 cup peanut oil.]
1 cup or 1 can (8 ounces) tomato sauce [I used chopped fresh tomatoes, cause I had 'em.]
2 teaspoons salt [or to taste. My opinion was it was a bit too salty.]
1 frying chicken (2 to 3 pounds) [I buy whole organic and cut up myself. Much cheaper...]
3/4 cup hot water

Use a casserole or large skillet with lid. Cook onions and curry powder in butter for 10 to 15 minutes. Add tomato sauce and salt. Disjoint and skin chicken, and place in sauce. Cook, uncovered, over medium heat, turning frequently until sauce becomes quite dry and chicken tests done with fork, about 15 minutes. Add hot water, cover pot, and cook over low heat for 5 minutes. Makes 4 servings.


Fresh local, organic spinach (yum!), sauteed with 3 cloves garic, sliced, in some olive oil

Basmati rice

Both Christian and I really liked this meal. Ian ate some of it (maybe some chicken?), and then had loads of fun throwing his spinach everywhere. Will took one bite of his drumstick (the only chicken part he eats with relish -- just like me when I was a kid), and almost burst into tears. "I don't like this kind of chicken!!" It wasn't even a spicy curry, for heaven's sake.

Sigh.

In the end, Will ate two hot dogs, some corn on the cob and a popsicle for dinner. No spinach.

Oh well, all I can do is expose them to different foods, right? And, frankly, I totally enjoyed my dinner that night. Screaming tantrums, flying food and all.

 

Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I'm 64...

Today is my eighth wedding anniversary. Eight years ago right now,I was probably getting my hair done in a Burke, VA salon (what? you don't know where that is?), freaking about what the Virginia humidity would do to my up-do. Possibly doo-doo. I may have already carefully self-applied my makeup, or maybe not. I was very concerned with looking "normal," not overdone. Here's what I promise I was NOT doing right now on that day eight years ago: thinking about what it would be like to yoke my life forever to this kind, young man I met at a fraternity date function in 1994. Who at the time had long hair. And smoked Marlboro Reds. No joke.

Now that I write it, that is very odd that we don't really think much about marriage when we take the plunge. We just know what we want when we want it. How very childish of us. Then again, I did look pretty awesome in that dress. And the tiara. And the hair. Did I mention the hair? Think Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's. Almost. [Would post pics if we had any digital ones. But folks, that was way back in 2002. Who had digital cameras then??]

The fact remains that eight years later--no tiara in sight--I am still sleeping next to this guy. I'm raising kids with him. I'm dreaming with him about our future (in fact, I think we may have actually started dreaming in unison--about the same things). I'm getting really, very pissed at him for leaving dirty dishes in the sink when the dishwasher is empty, and for being more interested in the latest PGA Tour stats than what I was talking about.

But I digress.

In the end, the dishes don't matter and I can deal with the PGA. Here's when those things fall away, completely.

Raising A Winner

Will is very much into "being first" these days. First at getting his shoes on, first at going to the bathroom, first at everything. He gets very upset if he thinks he's been slighted out of his rights to first-ness -- especially if it's for the sake of fairness on our part. I'm hoping this is a stage, because it's very annoying. Just being honest here.

Also, C and I wonder if this obsession with being first is healthy for Will. So, being the good parents we are (chuckles from the peanut gallery aside), we decided to try to insert our own logic into Will's preschooler brain and wait ever so patiently for it to take hold.

And then we had this conversation in the car the other day after a friend's BBQ where a T-ball game was played and a friend Will's age got very upset about not winning, or getting struck out:

Will: "F was really mad about not winning today."
Me: "Well, you know Will, winning isn't everything. It's about having fun with your friends too."
Long, pregnant pause from the backseat.
Will: "No, Mom. You're wrong. It is everything."

Schooled again by a 3 year old in the ways of the world. Because really, he's right. In our society, in his world when he grows up -- it is all about winning. C and I looked at each other and laughed, but inside I was a little sad. Sad that even at 3, Will was already learning the logic of being best, competing for glory, bragging rights.

Maybe it's just gonna take a little more time, and a lot more work, for our other logic to sink in. Maybe.