Having spent some time this week recalling my classical education, I should have remembered one of the pervasive themes in Greek literature: hubris.
After my self-congratulatory and -celebratory post on anger management this morning, our afternoon completely dissolved into a study in frustration and anger. And I'm going to blame it all on computer games. After rest time, a snack, and some art time when they drew suns and smiley faces, the kids wanted to play computer games. Now, I don't particularly enjoy playing computer games but I relented because they seemed so excited, though I had told myself that I really would make computer games Mama's preserve.
I should stick to my decisions. The children were quickly frustrated by games they didn't understand and couldn't play, and, even though I was sitting right there, I am not fluent in computer game structures and strategies and couldn't help much. That's right Dr. Mommy Hungry was defeated by Diego. Or by systems limitations: several games required plug-ins and I couldn't remember the administrator password on my computer, not being its usual administrator. This went on longer than I ever should have let it, even after I said they could only play the Caillou games we all knew how to play. That's when odd things would happen, like they would suddenly change webpages (I learned later this was a quirk if they hit the wrong mouse button; Mama worked tonight to disable it). They'd have to start their game/turn all over again, severely trying the patience of both the waiting child and me. I finally ended it, to tears all around, realizing that no one was having a good time and it was just getting worse. I apologized for getting angry at the computer explaining that I didn't like that I couldn't help them to have fun. I should've apologized for not following my mommy instincts and not turning on the damned games in the first place. Strike one.
So, we went in the kitchen to cook dinner and Bud was helping me scramble eggs. Sis decided she wanted to move her chair back to the table, would I give her a "ride?" No. I needed to watch Bud cook over the hot skillet. But had I said no too sharply? Too loudly? More tears, and cries of "I want Gommie." Oooh, that hurt. Strike two. Even though I explained my reasons for saying no--the ones of health and safety--it didn't heal her hurt or mine (since I felt mean, even if justified).
We downed dinner unhappily, but had some bright moments afterwards talking about our trip to the Met tomorrow, and then headed up to bed, sans Mama who was running late from a meeting. More chaos, more anger. When they refused to get dressed and wouldn't even hear my directions over their rambunctiousness, I just closed the door to their room, which they can't open by themselves from the inside, and left them there. Quiet commenced and then cries from Bud: "Mommy, I got dressed. Why did you leave?"
Strike three, Mommy's out.
Friday, January 16, 2009
On Anger, Part 2
I had just gotten off the phone with a friend from Chicago, gotten the kids breakfast, and dashed into the other room to read the headlines of the NYTimes. As I scanned the article on the "Miracle on the Hudson," I heard this very familiar "drop-drop-drop" from the kitchen. I looked in to see a sea of Cheerios (oops, is that brand-name reference number two in three sentences? Ouch, I didn't know I did that) and raisins on the floor. Three-and-a-half year olds don't need to test gravity; they passed that developmental milestone (with great creativity and determination) way back.
But I didn't lose my cool. Actually, I'm not even sure I was angry, so much as annoyed and a little amused that they could make such a mess in so short a time, perhaps even a little guilty that I had been reading the paper in those moments instead of watching them eat. But I had to muster some mommy outrage and calmly discipline them for making a mess and wasting food, all the while I was thinking of the Motherlode post on anger yesterday. So, there was no yelling just an immediate end to breakfast, the insistence that they help clean it up, and then banishment to the living room where they could await our "time in" while I finished up. By then, they were both crying, mainly because they still wanted to play and eat. It was very much the Gone with the Wind/Scarlett O'Hara "the thief who was sorry he got caught but not at all sorry he stole" routine. But we discussed the whole incident, got dressed for our playgroup, and got out the door. No apologies necessary. What a relief!
-=-=-=-=-
Oh, and in the off-chance she comes back, a "hello and thanks" to Lisa Belkin, author of Motherlode, for her visit and comment on my blog yesterday. I'm very glad my kiddos are too young to read this "live" or as it happens, though I keep them, and the future, in mind when I write (as this is in part my virtual scrapbook for them). But I have already embarrassed my mom (who lives faraway and is, with other distant family and friends, my main audience) any number of times! I guess children always have that ability, even grown ones.
But I didn't lose my cool. Actually, I'm not even sure I was angry, so much as annoyed and a little amused that they could make such a mess in so short a time, perhaps even a little guilty that I had been reading the paper in those moments instead of watching them eat. But I had to muster some mommy outrage and calmly discipline them for making a mess and wasting food, all the while I was thinking of the Motherlode post on anger yesterday. So, there was no yelling just an immediate end to breakfast, the insistence that they help clean it up, and then banishment to the living room where they could await our "time in" while I finished up. By then, they were both crying, mainly because they still wanted to play and eat. It was very much the Gone with the Wind/Scarlett O'Hara "the thief who was sorry he got caught but not at all sorry he stole" routine. But we discussed the whole incident, got dressed for our playgroup, and got out the door. No apologies necessary. What a relief!
-=-=-=-=-
Oh, and in the off-chance she comes back, a "hello and thanks" to Lisa Belkin, author of Motherlode, for her visit and comment on my blog yesterday. I'm very glad my kiddos are too young to read this "live" or as it happens, though I keep them, and the future, in mind when I write (as this is in part my virtual scrapbook for them). But I have already embarrassed my mom (who lives faraway and is, with other distant family and friends, my main audience) any number of times! I guess children always have that ability, even grown ones.
A Love-Hate Relationship
Time for the question-of-the-day: what is your least favorite chore?
Easy: I don't like dealing with food, surprising considering that I like to eat. I never liked touching raw meat and I wasn't so thrilled with handling leftover meat (ewh, cold slimy turkey in a zipper bag, anyone? Just another vegetarian perk. Or is that perq?). I don't like food getting wet and so have an aversion to doing dirty dishes unless the plates are scraped clean. Stopper in the sink have bits of food in it? I could retch. Cleaning out the fridge, dealing with leftovers and produce gone bad, even taking out the garbage are all very, very challenging for me. My sense of smell is incredibly sensitive (a leftover from pregnancy; it was always good but now it is amazing) and it is connected right to my gag reflex. Visuals don't help either. So poor Mama is stuck with most food duties, from cleaning the fridge to taking out the garbage. At least I can cook, now that there is not really much meet involved (and when there is, it's those practically antiseptic pre-packaged chicken breasts), though Mama will tell you that I am very quick to throw out food that I suspect might be thinking about going bad (hey, I've had food poisoning one too many times). I'd clean bathrooms, vaccuum, dust, fold clothes, anytime compared to the majority of kitchen duties.
Easy: I don't like dealing with food, surprising considering that I like to eat. I never liked touching raw meat and I wasn't so thrilled with handling leftover meat (ewh, cold slimy turkey in a zipper bag, anyone? Just another vegetarian perk. Or is that perq?). I don't like food getting wet and so have an aversion to doing dirty dishes unless the plates are scraped clean. Stopper in the sink have bits of food in it? I could retch. Cleaning out the fridge, dealing with leftovers and produce gone bad, even taking out the garbage are all very, very challenging for me. My sense of smell is incredibly sensitive (a leftover from pregnancy; it was always good but now it is amazing) and it is connected right to my gag reflex. Visuals don't help either. So poor Mama is stuck with most food duties, from cleaning the fridge to taking out the garbage. At least I can cook, now that there is not really much meet involved (and when there is, it's those practically antiseptic pre-packaged chicken breasts), though Mama will tell you that I am very quick to throw out food that I suspect might be thinking about going bad (hey, I've had food poisoning one too many times). I'd clean bathrooms, vaccuum, dust, fold clothes, anytime compared to the majority of kitchen duties.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
On Anger
Great post over at Motherlode today by both Belkin and her guest writer, on getting angry at kids. And the comments, as usual, are as enlightening (or, more appropriately, entertaining) as the essay.
But more than the "I-yelled-and-the-kids-were-shocked-and-it-affected-us-all-and-I-apologized" moral of the story (which I think most of us have experienced), I appreciated Belkin's preface:
Even though my mom specifically argued with my dad in front of us so that we would know that people fight and also made a point of fighting "fair" (and sending "I" messages), I am not particularly comfortable with anger, confrontation, or fighting. I definitely remember being scared of arguing with Mama in our first few years together, of being afraid that conflict would mean the relationship was sound. But even after we became comfortable with our methods of conflict resolution (which, I don't think, ever involved yelling), we still never fought much. We're just not fighters. And we were too co-dependent for that like any good, young, new, stereotypical lesbian couple.
It has, in fact, been parenting that has given us advanced training in arguing and disagreeing, mainly because we were so exhausted the first few years, had too much to do, and couldn't always figure out the best ways to do it. See, we come from families with extremely divergent family and parenting styles and that is just hardwired in each of us to the point that you forget it's a choice and that there are other ways to do things. But we are working through most of that, with no yelling.
But have I had to apologize to the kids for losing my cool, just like the guest blogger? You bet. Has Mama? Of course. Was I sorry? Yes. Will they remember? No telling. As my mom has said, her memories (and regrets) probably don't align with my memories and you can just never know (for instance, apparently she vividly remembers the one time she slapped me . . . and, while I know it happened, it just wasn't traumatic for me and I couldn't even tell you the circumstances. She, however, apparently cried in her room most of the rest of the night. See, Mom, it's okay). There was a poem I can't find that I read the first year or so of having the kids, probably in Mothering, maybe not. In the poem, the mom goes into the nursery, for she has an infant, and apologizes to the sleeping baby for not being the kind of mom she wanted to be that day. But in the poem, in the blog, in life, the apology is the key. Especially when moms are trying so hard to get it right.
But more than the "I-yelled-and-the-kids-were-shocked-and-it-affected-us-all-and-I-apologized" moral of the story (which I think most of us have experienced), I appreciated Belkin's preface:
We rarely talk about the anger of being a parent. We know the lurking
danger — of anger turning physical, or crossing a line. That means we also don’t
talk about the fact that we all lose it. Or the corollary fact that sometimes
anger works.
When all else fails, a few claps of oral thunder certainly show that Mom or
Dad has had it, that humans can be pushed just so far, and this is what it looks
like when you’ve pushed them too much.
I have friends whose parents really never yelled. Those same friends
were terrified at their first fight with their own spouse, or their first anger
at their own children; they were certain the marriage was over and the kids
would be taken away. There is a lesson learned by some yelling (not abusing or
berating, or belittling, but emoting; not constantly, but sometimes): we get
mad, we make up, we still love each other.
Even though my mom specifically argued with my dad in front of us so that we would know that people fight and also made a point of fighting "fair" (and sending "I" messages), I am not particularly comfortable with anger, confrontation, or fighting. I definitely remember being scared of arguing with Mama in our first few years together, of being afraid that conflict would mean the relationship was sound. But even after we became comfortable with our methods of conflict resolution (which, I don't think, ever involved yelling), we still never fought much. We're just not fighters. And we were too co-dependent for that like any good, young, new, stereotypical lesbian couple.
It has, in fact, been parenting that has given us advanced training in arguing and disagreeing, mainly because we were so exhausted the first few years, had too much to do, and couldn't always figure out the best ways to do it. See, we come from families with extremely divergent family and parenting styles and that is just hardwired in each of us to the point that you forget it's a choice and that there are other ways to do things. But we are working through most of that, with no yelling.
But have I had to apologize to the kids for losing my cool, just like the guest blogger? You bet. Has Mama? Of course. Was I sorry? Yes. Will they remember? No telling. As my mom has said, her memories (and regrets) probably don't align with my memories and you can just never know (for instance, apparently she vividly remembers the one time she slapped me . . . and, while I know it happened, it just wasn't traumatic for me and I couldn't even tell you the circumstances. She, however, apparently cried in her room most of the rest of the night. See, Mom, it's okay). There was a poem I can't find that I read the first year or so of having the kids, probably in Mothering, maybe not. In the poem, the mom goes into the nursery, for she has an infant, and apologizes to the sleeping baby for not being the kind of mom she wanted to be that day. But in the poem, in the blog, in life, the apology is the key. Especially when moms are trying so hard to get it right.
Got Game?
I'm not a game player, as I believe I've confessed here, and I am really not a video game player, having come of age during Pac-Man and Space Invaders and not really seeing the point of hanging out with the boys in the stinky arcade next to the movie theater (and we didn't really have a system to play at home because, well, I didn't like to play video games). Mama likes certain games and we tried MYST together for awhile, but I'm hopeless. We also tried chess, and that's about the only game I'll play with Mama. And I'm okay with that.
Games, however, are important and I keep coming across articles pointing that out to me (I think the most recent was in Mothering). So, we gamely (snicker) opened the CandyLand and Chutes and Laddes that Aunt Banana sent for the holidays and have tried to play. Sis, however, doesn't really like playing the way the rules states but instead prefers to move the pieces around like they are sightseeing. Bud actually wants to play and we got through a whole game of Chutes and Ladders, with some help, because he didn't always move his piece in the right direction.
We also think it's important that the kids learn some computer skills, starting with how to use a mouse. So, we have been playing a few games here and there. Mama even got them their own mouse/trackball to use since the touchpad on our laptop is too challenging for beginners. And when we go to the library, they play some Reader Rabbit games there. Personally, I like letting them send email to family, which consists mainly of upper and lower case letters often from their names. But I'll watch them play too.
Today, they were playing more advanced games--Diego, Miss Spider--things they aren't really ready for. And Sis, getting frustrated, said to the computer, "That is not the way I want to do it." I totally understand, Sis, and I'll play "Touring CandyLand" with you any day.
Games, however, are important and I keep coming across articles pointing that out to me (I think the most recent was in Mothering). So, we gamely (snicker) opened the CandyLand and Chutes and Laddes that Aunt Banana sent for the holidays and have tried to play. Sis, however, doesn't really like playing the way the rules states but instead prefers to move the pieces around like they are sightseeing. Bud actually wants to play and we got through a whole game of Chutes and Ladders, with some help, because he didn't always move his piece in the right direction.
We also think it's important that the kids learn some computer skills, starting with how to use a mouse. So, we have been playing a few games here and there. Mama even got them their own mouse/trackball to use since the touchpad on our laptop is too challenging for beginners. And when we go to the library, they play some Reader Rabbit games there. Personally, I like letting them send email to family, which consists mainly of upper and lower case letters often from their names. But I'll watch them play too.
Today, they were playing more advanced games--Diego, Miss Spider--things they aren't really ready for. And Sis, getting frustrated, said to the computer, "That is not the way I want to do it." I totally understand, Sis, and I'll play "Touring CandyLand" with you any day.
Prayers
My thoughts and prayers go out to the crew and passengers of the plane that went down in the Hudson, and the families and friends who love them. Also, for the rescuers working in the frigid waters.
Called It
I cancelled school today. We're not going out in this. I'm going to have to figure out how to be comfortable driving in snow but today is not the day. And, in the end, the book orders that were due today can now be turned in on Tuesday. That might have been the deciding factor--you know how I like book orders and I was almost willing to drive to turn in our order. But now, we can put our snow plan in action. I'm sorry the kids won't be in school--they love school--but they'll love playing at home too.
Delayed
School has only been delayed, not cancelled, which means the kiddos have school this morning--for about 1 hour and 15 minutes. Enough time for me to grab some coffee and wait to pick them up. It's no secret that I am extremely uncomfortable driving in snow, especially falling snow that hasn't been ploughed. And we're having snow, from now til noonish. But, I also have some mommy pride--if there is school, I shouldn't let a little thing like fear keep them from getting there. Except. Except, Mama has cleaned my car and shoveled the drive but if more collects, I can't clear the driveway myself. And then I'd have to drive in it. So, partially, attendance today is going to depend on just how much falls between now and then. Two hours is a long time for snow to gather. I wish they'd just called it, as, I'm sure, all the kids in the region do. So far, I've told the kiddos I don't know if there is school. And they are young enough to believe me.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Let it Snow (Again)
Looks like we're in for a bunch of snow tonight, upwards of 4 inches. I'm going to bet that there is no school tomorrow. Which will be fine, even fun. We're ready: snow boots, sweetened condensed milk, marshmallows and hot chocolate makings, popcorn, squirt bottles and food coloring, frozen black construction paper (for looking at snowflakes quickly--the frozen part delays the melting of the specimens). Only wish we could share the fun with friends, but who would drive in such weather? Well, friends, if you are out there and want to party at our house ('cos you know I'm not driving!), you are cordially invited. Otherwise, stay home, stay safe, have fun and let us know what you do--I'm always looking for new ideas.
Getting Ready for the New Year
The Year of the Ox will be here in about 10 days and we've already started preparations. Today, Ma and Gong brought new clothes for Bud and Sis, a Chinese tradition. Bud has a gorgeous blue, red, and gold silk suit with dragons. Sis's lovely suit is pink with light green, covered in cherry blossoms. They both tried them on and were excited to have such special clothes, which they will wear to the New Year's celebrations at Ma and Gong's house, also at school, playgroup, a friend's house (for Tet, the Vietnamese name for New Year), and perhaps even to church.
We've been reading our new book, from Barefoot Press, entitled The Great Race, which relates the story of how the years came to be named after animals. This weekend we'll pull our New Year's box out of the basement and decorate the house with red lanterns, banners full of wishes for health and prosperity, and faux firecrackers. Ma and Gong even made us a few signs today wishing happy new year. Then there will be the requisite run to the store for various foods to share, though Ma and Gong will do the bulk of the shopping in various Chinatowns (Flushing, Bay Ridge, probably not Manhattan) in NYC. I'll relate more of the traditions after we go down to celebrate; it's actually a very solemn occasion, with numerous prayers and rituals and proscribed foods, over several days. And for the first time, I think the kids will remember, even if they don't totally understand. It was Mama's favorite holiday as a child and I hope it's the same for Bud and Sis.
We've been reading our new book, from Barefoot Press, entitled The Great Race, which relates the story of how the years came to be named after animals. This weekend we'll pull our New Year's box out of the basement and decorate the house with red lanterns, banners full of wishes for health and prosperity, and faux firecrackers. Ma and Gong even made us a few signs today wishing happy new year. Then there will be the requisite run to the store for various foods to share, though Ma and Gong will do the bulk of the shopping in various Chinatowns (Flushing, Bay Ridge, probably not Manhattan) in NYC. I'll relate more of the traditions after we go down to celebrate; it's actually a very solemn occasion, with numerous prayers and rituals and proscribed foods, over several days. And for the first time, I think the kids will remember, even if they don't totally understand. It was Mama's favorite holiday as a child and I hope it's the same for Bud and Sis.
A Lot of Class
Ma and Gong came to visit today, taking off from work to see us and go with us to Chinese class. We were supposed to get together last week but the awful weather canceled the visit as well as class. They arrived this morning, played with the kiddos, had lunch from our favorite deli with us, and then headed to class with us.
They'd brought special "khanom," or sweets (in Thai--the first word I learned!), for the kids to give the teacher (Lao she) for Chinese New Year. They even worked with the kids on how to wish her a happy new year, "Sing nian hao" (I believe--but Sis got it spot on). And when we arrived at class, Sis marched up proudly to Lao she and handed over the tin of treats, saying happy new year. Ma and Gong conversed with Lao she in Mandarin and I gathered they were introducing themselves and talking about Chinese.
See, Mandarin is, as I figure it, Ma and Gong's third language. They speak and write Chow Gio (not sure how that's spelled), the dialect from their family's region of China, as well as Thai, the language of the country where they both were born and grew up (into immigrant families. Keep up: Ma and Gong's parents all immigrated from China to Thailand before the Revolution, met, and married and had their kids in Bangkok, where, at the time, I believe it wasn't easy to be Chinese in Thailand). Gong, especially, learned Mandarin as a young man; Ma speaks some and is learning more from their serialized Chinese movies. Of course, Mandarin and Chow Gio are written exactly the same and pronounced totally differently (as are all Chinese dialects. English is similar, in a way. It's mostly written the same in the US, UK, Australia, and Canada, but if you were to write how we pronounce it phonetically, it would totally look different. And sometimes, of course excepting Lambeth, I can't understand a word some Brits say. And often watch the BBC subtitled). That makes English their fourth language. I think they also both know a little Cantonese. And Ma learned German for her dissertation. Which she wrote in English. Ma and Gong have lived the immigrant experience twice over and mastered new languages and new cultures as the outsiders twice. Impressed yet? I am. Always. No more so than when I'm sitting in Chinese class trying to grasp tones and pronunciations.
Ma and I had a good laugh though, as we worked our way through animals and then foods today. One of the words was "cookie." I could hear Ma and Gong next to me discussing it. Neither knew cookie in any other language but English, because they just don't eat cookies (mind you, the Chinese and Thai have their fair share of sweets, but these kind of cookies are a western thing apparently). So there were Ma and I learning Mandarin together! Of course, she got it faster than I did. The kids faster than both of us. And I still can't tell you what it is. I'll need to practice before next week.
After class, Ma talked to Lao she more and I gather that Lao she told her that Sis and Bud were smart and picking it up quickly, which made us both proud. Ma bowed to her, "xie xie" and "ti jian" (please forgive my pigeon Pinyin) all around, and we left. It was a great day. For all of us.
They'd brought special "khanom," or sweets (in Thai--the first word I learned!), for the kids to give the teacher (Lao she) for Chinese New Year. They even worked with the kids on how to wish her a happy new year, "Sing nian hao" (I believe--but Sis got it spot on). And when we arrived at class, Sis marched up proudly to Lao she and handed over the tin of treats, saying happy new year. Ma and Gong conversed with Lao she in Mandarin and I gathered they were introducing themselves and talking about Chinese.
See, Mandarin is, as I figure it, Ma and Gong's third language. They speak and write Chow Gio (not sure how that's spelled), the dialect from their family's region of China, as well as Thai, the language of the country where they both were born and grew up (into immigrant families. Keep up: Ma and Gong's parents all immigrated from China to Thailand before the Revolution, met, and married and had their kids in Bangkok, where, at the time, I believe it wasn't easy to be Chinese in Thailand). Gong, especially, learned Mandarin as a young man; Ma speaks some and is learning more from their serialized Chinese movies. Of course, Mandarin and Chow Gio are written exactly the same and pronounced totally differently (as are all Chinese dialects. English is similar, in a way. It's mostly written the same in the US, UK, Australia, and Canada, but if you were to write how we pronounce it phonetically, it would totally look different. And sometimes, of course excepting Lambeth, I can't understand a word some Brits say. And often watch the BBC subtitled). That makes English their fourth language. I think they also both know a little Cantonese. And Ma learned German for her dissertation. Which she wrote in English. Ma and Gong have lived the immigrant experience twice over and mastered new languages and new cultures as the outsiders twice. Impressed yet? I am. Always. No more so than when I'm sitting in Chinese class trying to grasp tones and pronunciations.
Ma and I had a good laugh though, as we worked our way through animals and then foods today. One of the words was "cookie." I could hear Ma and Gong next to me discussing it. Neither knew cookie in any other language but English, because they just don't eat cookies (mind you, the Chinese and Thai have their fair share of sweets, but these kind of cookies are a western thing apparently). So there were Ma and I learning Mandarin together! Of course, she got it faster than I did. The kids faster than both of us. And I still can't tell you what it is. I'll need to practice before next week.
After class, Ma talked to Lao she more and I gather that Lao she told her that Sis and Bud were smart and picking it up quickly, which made us both proud. Ma bowed to her, "xie xie" and "ti jian" (please forgive my pigeon Pinyin) all around, and we left. It was a great day. For all of us.
Super Kids
The caped wonder, Super Scott, aka CJ, Mama Teacher's son, came over yesterday wearing his blue superhero cape-blanket. Apparently, on the way over, he wished that we would all play superheroes. And he got his wish. By the midde of his visit, Sis and Bud had similiarly donned cape-blankets and they all got Mama Teacher and me caped too. We all flew around the living room, talking about our different powers. CJ's power was rescuing the earth. Sis healed "owies" (how do you spell that??). I forget what Bud's power was. Mama Teacher and I were "super mommies." Then the kids started to rescue each other. At one point, "Super Scott" asked Sis to rescue him. And in a dramatic pose, head turned, she just stood there. So I prodded her, "Sis, CJ asked you to rescue him."
Her reply: "I'm thinking about it."
Super.
Her reply: "I'm thinking about it."
Super.
Question of the Day
My pal Miss T, over at Love Big, Bake Often, has discovered a question-of-the-day journalling website. I can't get the .pdfs open but do want to answer the question posed today: what would you change about the world? I agreed with all of Miss T's answers and would boil them down to one word: respect. I would inject respect into our personal and public behaviors--respect for ourselves, respect for others, respect for the planet. I would demand respect from corporations and governments--respect for other peoples as well as individuals, respect for the planet, respect for differences, respect for the past and for the future, as well as the present. With more respect there would be more dialogue and less violence (on interpersonal and international levels); consensus building instead of partisanship; improvement in the environment; equal rights for women, ethnic and religious minorities, and GLBTs; equitable pay; health coverage; as well as just a general increase in civility which improves day-to-day well being. I can see it leading to so many wonderful things. But it is so hard to overcome fear and distrust and create respect, especially where there is such a history of distrust and disrespect. I think, however, that the election of Barack Obama is proof that we are taking steps in the right direction. Next Tuesday can't come soon enough for me.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Snack Cake
"Mom, let's make an everyday cake. Not a birthday cake. A regular everyday cake," Sis implored.
"You mean a snack cake?"
"Yes, chocolate snack cake."
Visions of boxed mix from my childhood danced in my head--you know the kind, the one that came with this little cardboard baking pan that you prepared the mix in and then baked. I can't even remember what it tasted like, just that we liked the idea of an easy snack (not that I think we ever baked these after school, probably more of a weekend/sleepover kinda thing).
So there I am, googling "chocolate snack cake" and finding numerous different options (did I check the zillion cookbooks I have? No, of course not). I chose the "mix-in-the-pan" one, since it reminded me of the ones we used to make. And they loved that part! They noticed right away that we weren't using a mixer. And then they realized we didn't add eggs. As always, sniffing the vanilla and licking the spoon were their favorite parts. This time, they also really liked carefully stirring the mix in the pan. Well, that and then playing with the leftover baking soda and vinegar to make bubble explosions in the sink while the cake baked.
And for once, they actually ate the cake that we made!
-=-=-=-=-
Mix-In-The-Pan Chocolate Snack Cake
1 2/3 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup brown sugar, firmly packed
1/4 cup unsweetened baking cocoa1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup water
1/3 cup vegetable oil
1 teaspoon white distilled vinegar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 tablespoons powdered sugar
In an ungreased 8-inch square pan mix together flour, brown sugar, unsweetened baking cocoa, baking soda, and salt. Stir in water, oil, vinegar, and vanilla.
Bake at 350*F for 35 to 40 minutes or until the center is set. Dust with powdered sugar.
Makes 8 servings.
Cooksrecipes.com
"You mean a snack cake?"
"Yes, chocolate snack cake."
Visions of boxed mix from my childhood danced in my head--you know the kind, the one that came with this little cardboard baking pan that you prepared the mix in and then baked. I can't even remember what it tasted like, just that we liked the idea of an easy snack (not that I think we ever baked these after school, probably more of a weekend/sleepover kinda thing).
So there I am, googling "chocolate snack cake" and finding numerous different options (did I check the zillion cookbooks I have? No, of course not). I chose the "mix-in-the-pan" one, since it reminded me of the ones we used to make. And they loved that part! They noticed right away that we weren't using a mixer. And then they realized we didn't add eggs. As always, sniffing the vanilla and licking the spoon were their favorite parts. This time, they also really liked carefully stirring the mix in the pan. Well, that and then playing with the leftover baking soda and vinegar to make bubble explosions in the sink while the cake baked.
And for once, they actually ate the cake that we made!
-=-=-=-=-
Mix-In-The-Pan Chocolate Snack Cake
1 2/3 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup brown sugar, firmly packed
1/4 cup unsweetened baking cocoa1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup water
1/3 cup vegetable oil
1 teaspoon white distilled vinegar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 tablespoons powdered sugar
In an ungreased 8-inch square pan mix together flour, brown sugar, unsweetened baking cocoa, baking soda, and salt. Stir in water, oil, vinegar, and vanilla.
Bake at 350*F for 35 to 40 minutes or until the center is set. Dust with powdered sugar.
Makes 8 servings.
Cooksrecipes.com
Lightning Rod
Ooooh, too bad there isn't a comments section on the article on Paul Offit's book, Autism's False Prophets. I can only imagine the furor caused by the book, which apparently states the scientific case against antivaccine adherents who believe vaccines cause autism, and even the article. There would be some amazing fireworks.
Because several of our friends are in the midst of PDDNOS and similar autism-spectrum diagnoses with their children, and because my kiddos were preemies (with multiple food sensitivities to boot) and had their immunizations spaced out, I have long followed the autism/vaccination debate. For the record, I'm a vaccination agnostic: I don't think we really know what causes autism and therefore can't rule out the possibility that vaccinations, among other environmental factors, have an effect (for the record, I haven't read Offit's book--or Jenny McCarthy's--and don't plan to). I doubt a single book can derail what has become a big industry of celebrities and theories, with McCarthy on one side and Amanda Peet on the other. It's like "Medical Battle of the Network Stars." Has American medicine and parenting really come down to which celebrity you have on your side? I guess doctors aren't sexy enough to get their points covered by major news outlets. Well, there's always Sanjay Gupta for Surgeon General . . . he's a doctor and a tv star!
Because several of our friends are in the midst of PDDNOS and similar autism-spectrum diagnoses with their children, and because my kiddos were preemies (with multiple food sensitivities to boot) and had their immunizations spaced out, I have long followed the autism/vaccination debate. For the record, I'm a vaccination agnostic: I don't think we really know what causes autism and therefore can't rule out the possibility that vaccinations, among other environmental factors, have an effect (for the record, I haven't read Offit's book--or Jenny McCarthy's--and don't plan to). I doubt a single book can derail what has become a big industry of celebrities and theories, with McCarthy on one side and Amanda Peet on the other. It's like "Medical Battle of the Network Stars." Has American medicine and parenting really come down to which celebrity you have on your side? I guess doctors aren't sexy enough to get their points covered by major news outlets. Well, there's always Sanjay Gupta for Surgeon General . . . he's a doctor and a tv star!
Prescription: Manners
Are manners the purview of pediatricians? Can you imagine your doctor asking about or commenting on your child's social skills at his or her next check-up? Perri Klasss, MD, whose essays I have long enjoyed, makes the case for manners as a medical issue in today's NYTimes. Writes Klass,
No wonder her favorite parenting book is written by Miss Manners (another writer I have long liked)! But really, if you define parenting the way she does, it all makes sense:
The conversations that every pediatrician has, over and over, about “limit
setting” and “consistently praising good behavior” are conversations about
manners. And when you are in the exam room with a child who seems to have none,
you begin to wonder what is going on at home and at school, and questions of
family dysfunction or neurodevelopmental problems begin to cross your mind.
No wonder her favorite parenting book is written by Miss Manners (another writer I have long liked)! But really, if you define parenting the way she does, it all makes sense:
And that job is to start with a being who has no thought for the feelings
of others, no code of behavior beyond its own needs and comforts — and, guided
by love and duty, to do your best to transform that being into what your
grandmother (or Socrates) might call a mensch. . . .
As a pediatrician, I worry about the trajectories of children’s growth and
development: measuring a baby’s head size, weighing a toddler, asking about the
language skills of a preschooler. Manners are another side of the journey every
child makes from helplessness to autonomy. And a child who learns to manage a
little courtesy, even under the pressure of a visit to the doctor, is a child
who is operating well in the world, a child with a positive prognosis.
Guinea Pig
The teachers were very excited to see Sis at school today. Not because they like her special, but because they needed her to test snow. See, at about 29 lbs, she is probably their lightest student and so they wanted to see if she could crack snow instead of slipping across it. They figured if she could crunch through the playground, all the kids could and would be safe. Gamely she went out back and made great crunches in the icy snow. She's quite a stomper. We practiced all weekend, after buying her new baby pink snowboots on sale Saturday. Everyone was very happy to get outside, none more so than Sis.
Rainbow Snow
Yep, we have gay snow here in Connecticut.
Actually, it looks more like a Babies-R-Us exploded on our front yard, with pink and blue snow all over the place. Sis wanted to paint the snow today. Bud wanted nothing to do with the outdoors. But I found two squirt bottles, filled them with water, and added food coloring. Instant fun! Soon they were both in the yard, decorating the snow, writing their initials, painting their snow forts, desperately wanting to squirt each other and the house and the car, which were all off-limits.
I wanted to play too but didn't have my own squirt bottle. I guess I'll need to go pick up a few more. Then we really can make a rainbow!
Actually, it looks more like a Babies-R-Us exploded on our front yard, with pink and blue snow all over the place. Sis wanted to paint the snow today. Bud wanted nothing to do with the outdoors. But I found two squirt bottles, filled them with water, and added food coloring. Instant fun! Soon they were both in the yard, decorating the snow, writing their initials, painting their snow forts, desperately wanting to squirt each other and the house and the car, which were all off-limits.
I wanted to play too but didn't have my own squirt bottle. I guess I'll need to go pick up a few more. Then we really can make a rainbow!
Soup's On
Trying a new soup today, from Fresh from the Vegetarian Slow Cooker. It's All-Day Minestrone. Now, I know I've had minestrone before but I'm not sure I could've told you what goes in it. I would've guessed beans. This one actually has green beans, yellow squash, and chickpeas. But not cannellini.
I realized as I was prepping it that my knife skills are really improving. This isn't a goal of mine--I'm perfectly happy using my Pampered Chef chopper or food processor--but sometimes I just chop. Today, I chopped and diced everything (though, it's probably all more like "cubed," not being small enough to qualify as minced or diced) before I finished it off with my PC chopper (which I love!). In fact, I probably cut up that onion well enough before I used the mechanical chopper. Mind you, a month ago, I wouldn't have chopped much at all, just cut all the veggies into pieces to fit in the chopper. But practice makes perfect, I guess. Really cooking 5-6 meals a week, sometimes with lunches cooked too, has made me a more relaxed, efficient, and competent homecook. I could always follow a recipe but was turned off by too much prep (or by raw meat, which now there isn't any!). And while I love to bake, the skills just aren't the same. Now I can make scrambled eggs with my eyes closed, throw together a good soup with whatever I have around, and come up with imaginative ways to season yet another pot of lentils. Add to that decently chop vegetables! And I'm liking it. And proud of myself! So come on over and try my homecooking, 'cos soup's on!
-=-=-=-=-
All-Day Minestrone
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 medium-size yellow onion, minced
1 celery rib, chopped
1 large carrot, chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
4 oz green beans, ends trimmed and cut into 1" pieces
1-15 oz can chickpeas, drained and rinsed (or 1 1/2 cups slow cooked)
1-14.5 oz can diced tomatoes, left undrained
1 medium-size zucchini or yellow summer squash, diced
6 cups stock
sat and black pepper
1/2 cup raw or 1 cup cooked ditalini or other small soup pasta
1/4 cup pesto
Pour the oil in the bottom of the 4-6 quart slow cooked. Add onions, celery, carrot, and garlic, cover, and cook on High while you assemble the reminaing ingredients.
After they've been prepped, add the green beans, chickeas, tomatoes, zucchini, and stock to theslow cooker and season with salt and pepper. Cover and cook on Low for 7-8 hours.
If using raw pasta, about an hour before you're ready to serve, add it to the slow cooker and cover.
Just before serving, stir in the pesto and already cooked pasta, if using.
Fresh from the Vegetarian Slow Cooker
I realized as I was prepping it that my knife skills are really improving. This isn't a goal of mine--I'm perfectly happy using my Pampered Chef chopper or food processor--but sometimes I just chop. Today, I chopped and diced everything (though, it's probably all more like "cubed," not being small enough to qualify as minced or diced) before I finished it off with my PC chopper (which I love!). In fact, I probably cut up that onion well enough before I used the mechanical chopper. Mind you, a month ago, I wouldn't have chopped much at all, just cut all the veggies into pieces to fit in the chopper. But practice makes perfect, I guess. Really cooking 5-6 meals a week, sometimes with lunches cooked too, has made me a more relaxed, efficient, and competent homecook. I could always follow a recipe but was turned off by too much prep (or by raw meat, which now there isn't any!). And while I love to bake, the skills just aren't the same. Now I can make scrambled eggs with my eyes closed, throw together a good soup with whatever I have around, and come up with imaginative ways to season yet another pot of lentils. Add to that decently chop vegetables! And I'm liking it. And proud of myself! So come on over and try my homecooking, 'cos soup's on!
-=-=-=-=-
All-Day Minestrone
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 medium-size yellow onion, minced
1 celery rib, chopped
1 large carrot, chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
4 oz green beans, ends trimmed and cut into 1" pieces
1-15 oz can chickpeas, drained and rinsed (or 1 1/2 cups slow cooked)
1-14.5 oz can diced tomatoes, left undrained
1 medium-size zucchini or yellow summer squash, diced
6 cups stock
sat and black pepper
1/2 cup raw or 1 cup cooked ditalini or other small soup pasta
1/4 cup pesto
Pour the oil in the bottom of the 4-6 quart slow cooked. Add onions, celery, carrot, and garlic, cover, and cook on High while you assemble the reminaing ingredients.
After they've been prepped, add the green beans, chickeas, tomatoes, zucchini, and stock to theslow cooker and season with salt and pepper. Cover and cook on Low for 7-8 hours.
If using raw pasta, about an hour before you're ready to serve, add it to the slow cooker and cover.
Just before serving, stir in the pesto and already cooked pasta, if using.
Fresh from the Vegetarian Slow Cooker
A Trip in Time
I really like to travel, or, more specifically, be at a new destination (not so fond of the getting there). I haven't done any traveling since I was pregnant, really, outside of a couple of trips to Texas, plus Boston and D.C. overnight. But as for new, interesting places, nope. And I would love to. It doesn't need to be a week or two in Florida, Italy, or South Korea (places my friends have taken children recently) to count for me. I'm not sure, right now, that would be fun.
But we live in a part of the country that I haven't really explored yet. Never been to upstate New York, anywhere in MA outside of Boston, much of PA or NJ, or anywhere else around here (i.e. RI, VT, NH, ME,). That means there is tons of new stuff for us to visit within a few hours' drive. So I proposed to Mama, who did a lot of traveling around here as a girl, that we take an overnight or weekend trip, either in the fall or spring, somewhere nearby. I suggested the Berkshires/Litchfield, a visit to Philly to see our friends (and then west of there) or Montauk. Mama lit on Plimoth Plantation in MA. Oooh, a trip and a living history museum. What could be better! So, we're doing what we used to do when we planned a trip: she does all the research and planning while I do all the daydreaming about it. I'm not sure what the kids' role will be, especially since we probably won't tell them we're going until a few days in advance. I'm giddy with anticipation even if it could be 9 months away, for just one night.
I guess I need to get out more. But it's a start.
But we live in a part of the country that I haven't really explored yet. Never been to upstate New York, anywhere in MA outside of Boston, much of PA or NJ, or anywhere else around here (i.e. RI, VT, NH, ME,). That means there is tons of new stuff for us to visit within a few hours' drive. So I proposed to Mama, who did a lot of traveling around here as a girl, that we take an overnight or weekend trip, either in the fall or spring, somewhere nearby. I suggested the Berkshires/Litchfield, a visit to Philly to see our friends (and then west of there) or Montauk. Mama lit on Plimoth Plantation in MA. Oooh, a trip and a living history museum. What could be better! So, we're doing what we used to do when we planned a trip: she does all the research and planning while I do all the daydreaming about it. I'm not sure what the kids' role will be, especially since we probably won't tell them we're going until a few days in advance. I'm giddy with anticipation even if it could be 9 months away, for just one night.
I guess I need to get out more. But it's a start.
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