When I was pregnant with my oldest, I made a momentous decision. I decided that I was going to be "That Mom", as in the Mom that always had baked goods and wonderful food in the house. I wanted my house to be THE house to go to, that way I would always know who my kids were hanging out with, where they were, and what they were up to. There was one slight glitch with my genius idea----I didn't know how to bake OR cook.
Now, some people say they can't cook but they are being modest. Kind of like the people who say, "Oh I'm sorry the house is such a mess" when in reality they've spent the past three days cleaning. I was not being modest. I once tried to bake Special K bars but ruined it because the recipe said to "double boil" the chocolate chips so I boiled water then dumped in the chocolate chips. FYI, that is not how you double boil something. I also tried to make homemade spaghetti and meatballs once and my uncle and cousins still talk about how awful it was sixteen years later. So while I desperately wanted to be That Mom, I had a long ways to go.
Thankfully, at that wonderful moment, God or the Gods or the Old Gods and the New or Fate or SOMETHING, brought Christa Weber into my life. We quickly became friends, based on lack of options and later because we loved each other's company. Now Christa Weber is a modern, young, beautiful, felony-free version of Martha Stewart. She grew up on a farm, her mother home schooled her so the lessons include learning to churn your own butter. Christa is a savant: she cooks, she bakes, she sews, she WELDS, she can basically do anything that you see on HGTV. And thankfully, this incredible woman took me under her wing.
Christa taught me how to cook and bake. (She's still a much better chef than me but at least I can cook and bake without embarrassing myself or making anyone sick). Now I love to cook and bake and feel relatively at east in a kitchen. For instance, last night I made rosemary pork chops with mashed potatoes and broccolini. I also am able to bake things like carrot cake (Christa has the best recipe), banana bread, pumpkin scones and rhubarb crisp. Basically, I rock.
Except for one thing. I spent all of my maternity leave with my second one to find the perfect chocolate chip cookie recipe. And I found it. I had spent hours on Pinterest trying out different recipes but I didn't need to exhaust myself so much. The perfect recipe is on the back of Crisco shortening bars. I think the secret is using shortening instead of butter (and you don't have to attempt to remember to put the butter out to soften). I additionally discovered that the kind/brand of Vanilla Extract you use makes a HUGE difference. Lucky for me, we have a Penzy's Spice nearby which is where I buy all of my extracts. They are powerful so you only need half as much. If you aren't lucky enough to be close to a Penzy's, I'd recommend Watson's. They are pretty great, too. So I found the perfect chocolate chip cookie recipe. Now I have a new challenge...the elusive sugar cookie cut-out.
Every Christmas, my mom would make sugar cookie cut outs. I remember them with fond hatred. I never could roll out the dough nicely and every time I would cut the cookie, it would stick no matter how much flour I used. Usually, my mom would take over and I'd end up on Spritz duty which suited me just fine. My mother-in-law makes decent sugar cookie cut outs, the only problem being she more than quadruples the vanilla and almond extract amounts, turning them into basically booze cookies (yes, there's alcohol in both of the extracts, check it out). I have tried numerous recipes so far and none of them are Perfect. My latest one, courtesy of Pinterest, was fantastic as a dough but failed as an actual cookie. So now I'm on the hunt for the PERFECT sugar cookie-cut. Wish me luck.
Yes, this is what my life has come to. Searching for the perfect cookie recipe. Oy.
Thursday, May 26, 2016
Tuesday, May 24, 2016
Stay at Home Mom...???
Today is day nine of being a stay at home mom...but without the kids. That's right, I am currently a Stay at Home Mom but my kids aren't here with me. It's nothing ridiculously stupid like that woman who wants maternity leave but without the kids (I think she called it "me-ternity"; I call it a vacation). What is actually happening with me is this: I resigned from my job due to health concerns but we had already paid for daycare for Lucy until the end of this Friday and my oldest is in Kindergarten. SO I am enjoying two full weeks of being a Stay At Home Mom without the kids.
It really isn't as nice as it seems. For one, I am HORRIBLY sick. My health concerns involve me throwing up 6-12 times a day. I'm basically lying on the couch, not tired but trying to sleep because at least when I sleep I don't throw up. I am racked with never ending guilt because even though I am home all day, I"m unable to get any chores done so my husband comes home from working a 10 hour shift only to be forced into being a single parent. He feeds the kids, does the dishes, bathes them and puts them to bed. Honestly, I have an incredible husband who has stepped up in unbelievable ways.
On the days I do feel well, I am able to get things done and on those days, I don't feel completely worthless. I do feel completely bored. And useless. What am I supposed to do all day?? I was never one of those girls/women who dreamt of being a stay at home mom. I did dream of having NOT to work but rather having the option of staying at home. Basically, I want to be a rich housewife from 1950. I want the money and the options that come along with the money. I want to volunteer hours or go on day trips with the kids or be able to enroll them in classes. But none of that is in our foreseeable future. So again, what am I supposed to do all day??
Once Lucy is home with me I will of course have more to do. And once school is out for the summer, I will have both kids at home with me. I have already planned out our daily/weekly schedules but I'm sure those will be thrown out the window by the second week. My sister-in-law stays at home with her kids and I honestly do not know how she does it without going crazy or giving her kids up for adoption. I know its easier for her, too, because she has lots of mom friends with kids her kids' age. Unfortunately, I do not have any mom friends here. How do you go about making friends at 30 years old? Is there a play group for me? A Tinder app for making friends? In a time that is based on technology, I fear no one knows how to interact on a face-to-face level anymore. Or maybe it's just that I don't know how to make "mom friends" or how to even socialize anymore with people who are strangers. Ugh, people are the worst.
So how do I make the most out of being a Stay at Home Mom? I feel Pinterest can only take me so far...before I lose my mind admist glitter and construction paper. I will stick to schedules as best as my kids will allow me but really, how many days can I go without losing my mind when all of my conversations revolve Ninja Turtles, Minnie Mouse, and superheroes? I need to talk politics and literature and things that are relevant in the real world! I need adult conversations. I need adult interaction. But how do I get that while being a stay at home mom who has no mom friends? Ugh. People are the worst.
I suppose I will just have to take this one day at time. And hope that my kids learn how to read The Times and debate properly before summer.
It really isn't as nice as it seems. For one, I am HORRIBLY sick. My health concerns involve me throwing up 6-12 times a day. I'm basically lying on the couch, not tired but trying to sleep because at least when I sleep I don't throw up. I am racked with never ending guilt because even though I am home all day, I"m unable to get any chores done so my husband comes home from working a 10 hour shift only to be forced into being a single parent. He feeds the kids, does the dishes, bathes them and puts them to bed. Honestly, I have an incredible husband who has stepped up in unbelievable ways.
On the days I do feel well, I am able to get things done and on those days, I don't feel completely worthless. I do feel completely bored. And useless. What am I supposed to do all day?? I was never one of those girls/women who dreamt of being a stay at home mom. I did dream of having NOT to work but rather having the option of staying at home. Basically, I want to be a rich housewife from 1950. I want the money and the options that come along with the money. I want to volunteer hours or go on day trips with the kids or be able to enroll them in classes. But none of that is in our foreseeable future. So again, what am I supposed to do all day??
Once Lucy is home with me I will of course have more to do. And once school is out for the summer, I will have both kids at home with me. I have already planned out our daily/weekly schedules but I'm sure those will be thrown out the window by the second week. My sister-in-law stays at home with her kids and I honestly do not know how she does it without going crazy or giving her kids up for adoption. I know its easier for her, too, because she has lots of mom friends with kids her kids' age. Unfortunately, I do not have any mom friends here. How do you go about making friends at 30 years old? Is there a play group for me? A Tinder app for making friends? In a time that is based on technology, I fear no one knows how to interact on a face-to-face level anymore. Or maybe it's just that I don't know how to make "mom friends" or how to even socialize anymore with people who are strangers. Ugh, people are the worst.
So how do I make the most out of being a Stay at Home Mom? I feel Pinterest can only take me so far...before I lose my mind admist glitter and construction paper. I will stick to schedules as best as my kids will allow me but really, how many days can I go without losing my mind when all of my conversations revolve Ninja Turtles, Minnie Mouse, and superheroes? I need to talk politics and literature and things that are relevant in the real world! I need adult conversations. I need adult interaction. But how do I get that while being a stay at home mom who has no mom friends? Ugh. People are the worst.
I suppose I will just have to take this one day at time. And hope that my kids learn how to read The Times and debate properly before summer.
Maybe I'm just too sensitive
I have always been a sensitive person. My eyes, my skin, my feelings...all sensitive. So maybe I am over reacting to this. Maybe not. Either way, I am offended.
My husband and I are pregnant with Baby #3. I used to think that everyone knew there were certain things you don't say to a pregnant woman but that theory was quickly shut down when I was pregnant (a single mom) with my first for the following were said to me, by more than one person, throughout my entire pregnancy: Your ass is huge! That means it's a boy; You know, you'll shit yourself when you give birth, don't worry, they won't drop the baby in it; Who's the father?; Why didn't you use protection:; You shouldn't eat so much; How are you going to handle being a single mom?; and, by far the worst, you should give the baby up for adoption. It was ridiculous. It was offensive. I thought I grew tough skin but apparently not.
My second pregnancy came along at an unexpected time---I was seven months engaged and we ended up having to move the wedding because our original due date was also the date of our wedding. No big deal. We were thrilled and I loved seeing my husband take in the whole pregnancy aspect for the first time. The questions weren't as offensive this time, clearly I knew who the father was, I didn't get nearly as fat, and people were genuinly happy for us. It was a nice change.
Still, I was not ready for the Baby #3 interrogations. Maybe it had been too long since I was offended by a person I knew as opposed to the random strangers on the internet who are idiots. Either way I was unprepared for the question that has greatly offended me, "So was this planned or....an accident?"
Let's get something straight, unless ou are my husband or my OB-GYN, it is none of your damn business. If this pregnancy was meticulously planned, if I did IV treatments, if I just went off my birth control, if I didn't go off my birth control, it is absolutely no concern of yours.
I have been so taken aback by this question that comes from, so far, my FAMILY members that I at first did not know how to respond. Now I just say, "This baby is a miracle and we are thrilled." Whatever that tells them, I don't know. But what I really want to say is, "IT IS NONE OF YOUR EFFING BUSINESS. Just congratulate me and move on."
Again, maybe I'm being too sensitive but let's get something straight, if what you say offends me, it's offensive (maybe just to me but still). So if you someone tells you they are pregnant, congratulate them and smile. You have questions about the conception? Ask yourself this first, are you married to this person? Are you their physician? If the answer is no, deal with your curiousity some other way and move on.
My husband and I are pregnant with Baby #3. I used to think that everyone knew there were certain things you don't say to a pregnant woman but that theory was quickly shut down when I was pregnant (a single mom) with my first for the following were said to me, by more than one person, throughout my entire pregnancy: Your ass is huge! That means it's a boy; You know, you'll shit yourself when you give birth, don't worry, they won't drop the baby in it; Who's the father?; Why didn't you use protection:; You shouldn't eat so much; How are you going to handle being a single mom?; and, by far the worst, you should give the baby up for adoption. It was ridiculous. It was offensive. I thought I grew tough skin but apparently not.
My second pregnancy came along at an unexpected time---I was seven months engaged and we ended up having to move the wedding because our original due date was also the date of our wedding. No big deal. We were thrilled and I loved seeing my husband take in the whole pregnancy aspect for the first time. The questions weren't as offensive this time, clearly I knew who the father was, I didn't get nearly as fat, and people were genuinly happy for us. It was a nice change.
Still, I was not ready for the Baby #3 interrogations. Maybe it had been too long since I was offended by a person I knew as opposed to the random strangers on the internet who are idiots. Either way I was unprepared for the question that has greatly offended me, "So was this planned or....an accident?"
Let's get something straight, unless ou are my husband or my OB-GYN, it is none of your damn business. If this pregnancy was meticulously planned, if I did IV treatments, if I just went off my birth control, if I didn't go off my birth control, it is absolutely no concern of yours.
I have been so taken aback by this question that comes from, so far, my FAMILY members that I at first did not know how to respond. Now I just say, "This baby is a miracle and we are thrilled." Whatever that tells them, I don't know. But what I really want to say is, "IT IS NONE OF YOUR EFFING BUSINESS. Just congratulate me and move on."
Again, maybe I'm being too sensitive but let's get something straight, if what you say offends me, it's offensive (maybe just to me but still). So if you someone tells you they are pregnant, congratulate them and smile. You have questions about the conception? Ask yourself this first, are you married to this person? Are you their physician? If the answer is no, deal with your curiousity some other way and move on.
Thursday, May 19, 2016
Excuse me while I raise a gentleman
When I was a child, I never thought twice about my father opening doors for me (or for others). It was just something that he did. He was courteous. He held out chairs for my mom and me. He offered his seat up to others. Whenever we walked outdoors, he always walked on the outside of me. This was the norm and I never thought anything of it.
Then I grew up, went out into the cruel world, and discovered my norm is not the world's.
The other night I witnessed a grown man, probably around 60, walk out of a door, in front of his extremely elderly mother, and not hold the door for her. Basically, let it shut in her face. Then to my surprise (and disgust), I watched him walk ahead of her, failing to assist her to the car or even open the car door for her. In that instant I made a decision, my son will never be that way.
I consider myself a Feminist. And by Feminist I mean someone who believes in equality for all, despite gender/sex, race or whatever. I do not think being a gentleman goes against this. Why? Because being kind is something everyone can be, even my daughter. I expect both of my children to hold doors open for others. I want both of them to give up their seats for the elderly or those in need. When they are older, I sure as Hell hope they assist their grandparents to the car, open car doors, and hold out an arm for those who can't walk unassisted.
Maybe it's because of how I grew up, but it baffles my mind that not everyone behaves as above described. I've watched grown men stand by idly as my mother and I unpacked our car full of luggage. I've seen a grown man take a seat only to have his mother say she was sitting there and for him to tell her to go find another chair. I've watched doors be slammed onto ladies' faces and elderly people struggle to open doors and I am shocked. I am disgusted. I am lost for I do not comprehend.
I am hoping that my children grow up the way I did and expect consideration for others to be the norm. I hope I can raise them to be aware of others' and their situations and be empathetic to those who need more than them. I hope that when I am old they never let a door slam in my face. For God help them if they do...I may be old but I'll still smack them with my cane.
Then I grew up, went out into the cruel world, and discovered my norm is not the world's.
The other night I witnessed a grown man, probably around 60, walk out of a door, in front of his extremely elderly mother, and not hold the door for her. Basically, let it shut in her face. Then to my surprise (and disgust), I watched him walk ahead of her, failing to assist her to the car or even open the car door for her. In that instant I made a decision, my son will never be that way.
I consider myself a Feminist. And by Feminist I mean someone who believes in equality for all, despite gender/sex, race or whatever. I do not think being a gentleman goes against this. Why? Because being kind is something everyone can be, even my daughter. I expect both of my children to hold doors open for others. I want both of them to give up their seats for the elderly or those in need. When they are older, I sure as Hell hope they assist their grandparents to the car, open car doors, and hold out an arm for those who can't walk unassisted.
Maybe it's because of how I grew up, but it baffles my mind that not everyone behaves as above described. I've watched grown men stand by idly as my mother and I unpacked our car full of luggage. I've seen a grown man take a seat only to have his mother say she was sitting there and for him to tell her to go find another chair. I've watched doors be slammed onto ladies' faces and elderly people struggle to open doors and I am shocked. I am disgusted. I am lost for I do not comprehend.
I am hoping that my children grow up the way I did and expect consideration for others to be the norm. I hope I can raise them to be aware of others' and their situations and be empathetic to those who need more than them. I hope that when I am old they never let a door slam in my face. For God help them if they do...I may be old but I'll still smack them with my cane.
Eight Years Ago
Eight years ago today, I checked myself into out-patient rehab. It wasn't a decision I came to lightly and it wasn't a decision I completely agreed with at the time. I did it because I had seen a new psychiatrist who diagnosed me with "alcohol dependency". (I put these in quotation marks because at the time I did not know that meant I was an alcoholic.)
Eight years ago when I agreed to rehab, I was desperate. I had been struggling with depression and axiety for twelve years, first diagnosed when I was 10, and I was fed up. I wasn't suicidal exactly, I just didn't want my life to be mine anymore. I did not want to hate myself anymore. I did not want to run away from myself anymore. I needed something but I wasn't sure what so I thought, What the Hell, I'll give this a try.
Eight years ago my life changed. Eight years ago I was not a person I would want to know or be friends with. I was not proud of myself in any way. My self loathing was greater than any other feeling I had for anything. I do not know why I drank so much, other than I'm an alcoholic, but I don't know if it was for self confidence or because I wanted to escape myself or because I didn't want to feel anything or if it was because when I drank, I didn't think. All I know for sure is, I drank and I drank a lot. I'm an alcoholic, that's what we do best.
Through an intensive out patient treatment program, I dropped my wonderfully constructe facade (as one counselor put it, I was the best actress she had ever seen, to the point where she wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't. I was such a good actress I had even fooled myself and didn't know I wasn't even real anymore.) Was I cured? Ah Hell no. Not even close. But I was healing.
Eight years later and I am still not cured. I never will be. Alcoholism is a disease that never leaves you and it is never cured. If it tricks you into thinking you are cured, it has won and you will relapse before you realize what has happened. It's not even as if I'm remission, as if the disease is lying dormant, no the disease is never dormat, it's always there, right at the surface, threatening to take control.
Some nights I dream of drinking. I dream I get drunk and I wake up hungover. Those dreams used to be quite frequent, maybe one every other week. These days the more frequent dream is I have relapsed but don't remember doing it. In my dreams I know I have relapsed but I don't know how or when. I am filled with terror and shame. I wake up panicked and can only calm down when I realize it was just a dream.
There are some days, even eight years later, when I can tell you exactly how a Bud Light tastes. Or how a Corona with lime feels going down your throat. There are some days when all I want is to drink wine with my friends or taste the new beer that's out or sip an after dinner drink. I don't give in to that want though because I know now that that is all it is---a want not a need. What DO I need? Well that's simple, I need to stay sober.
Eight years have come and gone....and I have changed and grown in more ways that I can tell. I am a mother, a wife, I am the kind of sister and a daughter that I was not eight years ago. I am stronger. I am healthier. I am happier. I'm also smarter in the sense that I know being happy is not a constant. Sure, I'll get sad (and I have) or I'll get depressed (which I do) but I know that as long as I stay sober and in touch with the real me, it won't last long. I'm also smarter in the sense that I know I can't, and don't have to, do this alone. I reach out for help when I need it or even when I don't so that I'm never truly alone.
If you're out there and needing help, get some. Talk to someone, anyone. Make sure your voice and concerns are heard and helped. If you're out there and sober, whether for one hour or fifty years, I salute you. Know it's a daily struggle, sometimes hourly, but know it's a struggle you can win.
Eight years. Who would've thought...
Eight years ago when I agreed to rehab, I was desperate. I had been struggling with depression and axiety for twelve years, first diagnosed when I was 10, and I was fed up. I wasn't suicidal exactly, I just didn't want my life to be mine anymore. I did not want to hate myself anymore. I did not want to run away from myself anymore. I needed something but I wasn't sure what so I thought, What the Hell, I'll give this a try.
Eight years ago my life changed. Eight years ago I was not a person I would want to know or be friends with. I was not proud of myself in any way. My self loathing was greater than any other feeling I had for anything. I do not know why I drank so much, other than I'm an alcoholic, but I don't know if it was for self confidence or because I wanted to escape myself or because I didn't want to feel anything or if it was because when I drank, I didn't think. All I know for sure is, I drank and I drank a lot. I'm an alcoholic, that's what we do best.
Through an intensive out patient treatment program, I dropped my wonderfully constructe facade (as one counselor put it, I was the best actress she had ever seen, to the point where she wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't. I was such a good actress I had even fooled myself and didn't know I wasn't even real anymore.) Was I cured? Ah Hell no. Not even close. But I was healing.
Eight years later and I am still not cured. I never will be. Alcoholism is a disease that never leaves you and it is never cured. If it tricks you into thinking you are cured, it has won and you will relapse before you realize what has happened. It's not even as if I'm remission, as if the disease is lying dormant, no the disease is never dormat, it's always there, right at the surface, threatening to take control.
Some nights I dream of drinking. I dream I get drunk and I wake up hungover. Those dreams used to be quite frequent, maybe one every other week. These days the more frequent dream is I have relapsed but don't remember doing it. In my dreams I know I have relapsed but I don't know how or when. I am filled with terror and shame. I wake up panicked and can only calm down when I realize it was just a dream.
There are some days, even eight years later, when I can tell you exactly how a Bud Light tastes. Or how a Corona with lime feels going down your throat. There are some days when all I want is to drink wine with my friends or taste the new beer that's out or sip an after dinner drink. I don't give in to that want though because I know now that that is all it is---a want not a need. What DO I need? Well that's simple, I need to stay sober.
Eight years have come and gone....and I have changed and grown in more ways that I can tell. I am a mother, a wife, I am the kind of sister and a daughter that I was not eight years ago. I am stronger. I am healthier. I am happier. I'm also smarter in the sense that I know being happy is not a constant. Sure, I'll get sad (and I have) or I'll get depressed (which I do) but I know that as long as I stay sober and in touch with the real me, it won't last long. I'm also smarter in the sense that I know I can't, and don't have to, do this alone. I reach out for help when I need it or even when I don't so that I'm never truly alone.
If you're out there and needing help, get some. Talk to someone, anyone. Make sure your voice and concerns are heard and helped. If you're out there and sober, whether for one hour or fifty years, I salute you. Know it's a daily struggle, sometimes hourly, but know it's a struggle you can win.
Eight years. Who would've thought...
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