I am friends with numerous people who love and adore excellent food. Whether at the perfect bistro, sidewalk cafe, or home prepared, there are never too many opportunities to explore new taste sensations, or find yet another dish that warrants truffle oil. I too enjoy all things foodie. If it is different, delicious, decadent, count me in. I'm willing to eat anything! However, as a mom, cooking can be a bit more challenging, especially a mom in a blended family.
The fruit of my loins, has a pretty varied palette. She has grown up eating all fruits and vegetables. She loves edamame, sushi, tofu, fish, duck, lamb... you name it we have tried it. Now that we have blended my loin fruit with the fiance's loin fruit (that sounds a bit salacious, even though it is not intended to be so), cooking has become quite a challenge. His lovely children are accustomed to a more plane jane food affair. All things processed or flavorless equals happy kids.
My conundrum... I love to cook, and I enjoy trying new dishes with lots of flavor. My supportive and food loving finance loves this fact. He encourages my foodie tendencies, and insists his poor kids have to eat whatever I put in front of them. Much to my chagrin, I then end up force feeding them and listening to complaints all around. Not a happy place for any of us to be in... I'm twitching just thinking about it.
I would rather just make food that everyone likes, which led me to this past weekends Mac and "Cheese." As a profound lover of cheese, there may be no more delicious food than mac and cheese. As a foodie, there are so many different ways to prepare the dish and make it quite a fancy feast. So, I ask, what would you do? Would you take the goat cheese in the fridge and start to craft a fantastic taste delight, or would you Kraft the mac in a generic Velveeta like substance that isn't quite cheese, but is supposedly related? I opted to make the kids happy, and used the Velveeta. The results... Well, I am proud and sad to say... the fiances kids were thrilled and ate with hearty and happy gusty. My foodie child took one bite and silently stopped eating. Atta girl... way to go hungry and not sacrifice your taste buds. Can mommy make you duck confit with a red wine reduction and toast points with a truffle whipped goat cheese spread?
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
Sunday, October 27, 2013
On the haze of assumed greatness
It's 8:00 on sunday morning, and I am wondering what to write about. Should I discuss the incredibly loud children in the room behind mine, where it sounds as if they are literally bouncing off the walls, or should I discuss the dog who is staring at me and keeps groaning and shaking his head loudly, as if to say, I will continue being ridiculously loud until you get your lazy ass up and feed me. I sense a theme coming on.
Sleeping is truly one of my favorite things to do. I'm not one of those persons who can never sit still long enough to rest or sleep late. I honestly don't know how those types of amazing people exist. I long to be built that way. I, however, am the person who is typically incapable of sleeping for more than two hours at a time.
Since I was little everything that goes bump in the night woke me up. Now the struggle is simply turning my brain off long enough to fall asleep. This is achieved with reading horrible romance novels, sci-fi, and mysteries. My favorite is when all three genres blend into one fantastic book... The trifecta. Its kinda like eating a hotdog with so many condiments you can't even taste the grossness underneath. Bring on the condiments!
So, once my brain has turned to mush, I can drift off to sleep for about two hours. At which point I am woken by the cat, the dog, the fiancé, the kids (his or mine), or perhaps just horrible gas (his or mine). Then I'm up. In the next few hours I am at my most brilliant. I have written great songs, solved very challenging life problems, created new problems, made horrible choices... Okay maybe not brilliant at all, perhaps I'm just in a sleep deprived haze of assumed greatness. Anyway, I then struggle to sleep the rest of the night.
All that to say, I would so much rather be sleeping right now. Just one more hour of silence on a weekend would likely be the difference between the kindhearted loving woman I am or the train wreck living inside me. Alas, the train wreck rears its ugly head. Chug a chug a woo woo. Watch out world... Coffee or death!
Sleeping is truly one of my favorite things to do. I'm not one of those persons who can never sit still long enough to rest or sleep late. I honestly don't know how those types of amazing people exist. I long to be built that way. I, however, am the person who is typically incapable of sleeping for more than two hours at a time.
Since I was little everything that goes bump in the night woke me up. Now the struggle is simply turning my brain off long enough to fall asleep. This is achieved with reading horrible romance novels, sci-fi, and mysteries. My favorite is when all three genres blend into one fantastic book... The trifecta. Its kinda like eating a hotdog with so many condiments you can't even taste the grossness underneath. Bring on the condiments!
So, once my brain has turned to mush, I can drift off to sleep for about two hours. At which point I am woken by the cat, the dog, the fiancé, the kids (his or mine), or perhaps just horrible gas (his or mine). Then I'm up. In the next few hours I am at my most brilliant. I have written great songs, solved very challenging life problems, created new problems, made horrible choices... Okay maybe not brilliant at all, perhaps I'm just in a sleep deprived haze of assumed greatness. Anyway, I then struggle to sleep the rest of the night.
All that to say, I would so much rather be sleeping right now. Just one more hour of silence on a weekend would likely be the difference between the kindhearted loving woman I am or the train wreck living inside me. Alas, the train wreck rears its ugly head. Chug a chug a woo woo. Watch out world... Coffee or death!
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
On being obnoxious
I would like to take the next few sentences to brag about my child. I know that truthfully, no one, who is not related to my darling girl, really cares. However, as a self acknowledged obnoxious momma, I truly don't give a (insert whatever explicative you find appropriate).
A couple of days ago, I received the greatly anticipated results of my daughters 2nd grade national testing results. She... my prodigious progeny... tested in the top 6% in the NATION. She clearly can thank her father for all of her smarts, and her mother for all of her emotionally manipulative skills. I think with this crazy combination of DNA, my fears may one day manifest themselves... Ella, my intelligent, but somewhat morally suspect daughter may in fact rule the world for evil one day. I'm just saying... it could happen.
A couple of days ago, I received the greatly anticipated results of my daughters 2nd grade national testing results. She... my prodigious progeny... tested in the top 6% in the NATION. She clearly can thank her father for all of her smarts, and her mother for all of her emotionally manipulative skills. I think with this crazy combination of DNA, my fears may one day manifest themselves... Ella, my intelligent, but somewhat morally suspect daughter may in fact rule the world for evil one day. I'm just saying... it could happen.
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
On lacking identity
I always thought I had the power to speak things into existence. Okay, not really a power per se, and only when it concerns my life. Okay, so what I meant to say is… I always thought I had the tendency to, within my life, make certain situations come true by acknowledging them. Wow, that really sounded better the first time around.
Anyway, I believe in my life I am able to happily live in denial. Once I choose to acknowledge a bit of unhappiness the flood gates are open, there is no turning back. This is how I have made the majority of my choices in life. Come the think of it, how sad is it that the majority of my choices have been made out of negative life experiences. It is almost as if I have never really made a choice at all, I’ve just had reactions and actions based on those prior reactions. You know what is really funny… many of my friends consider me one the most self actualized individuals they know. God, if they really knew the crazy train that ran through my head or the absence of anything running through my head at all they may rethink that statement entirely.
I’m one of the most confused persons I know. Living the post-modern dream, I can question everything, therefore I know absolutely nothing. I’m between gen-x and gen-y like a mixed up pair of chromosomes that don’t know which gender to identify with. I’m a complete product of my course in this crazy ass world, and as such have no idea what to do that will make me completely happy.
Perhaps that is not in my DNA. Perhaps, when you look too hard, and listen to too many suggestions
you cease to be an individual. You become a collective entity with too many choices and none of them
fitting completely.
Anyway, I believe in my life I am able to happily live in denial. Once I choose to acknowledge a bit of unhappiness the flood gates are open, there is no turning back. This is how I have made the majority of my choices in life. Come the think of it, how sad is it that the majority of my choices have been made out of negative life experiences. It is almost as if I have never really made a choice at all, I’ve just had reactions and actions based on those prior reactions. You know what is really funny… many of my friends consider me one the most self actualized individuals they know. God, if they really knew the crazy train that ran through my head or the absence of anything running through my head at all they may rethink that statement entirely.
I’m one of the most confused persons I know. Living the post-modern dream, I can question everything, therefore I know absolutely nothing. I’m between gen-x and gen-y like a mixed up pair of chromosomes that don’t know which gender to identify with. I’m a complete product of my course in this crazy ass world, and as such have no idea what to do that will make me completely happy.
Perhaps that is not in my DNA. Perhaps, when you look too hard, and listen to too many suggestions
you cease to be an individual. You become a collective entity with too many choices and none of them
fitting completely.
Monday, October 21, 2013
On aging gracefully
Today, I do my best to revel in my hard earned mid 30's fantasticness. The only issue now is the lack of attention (or approving attention) when me and my fashionable girls go out on the town. It is possible, that in my older state I attempt to force attention rather than suffer the humiliation of being ignored. I may, on occasion, dress ridiculously to garner the looks of shock and awe from all around.
As you can see, my friends and I decided that merely going out
on the town in our normal contemporary attire could never cause leers and guffaws
(which is clearly our objective). So… um…
yeah… 80’s!!! I channeled my inner Cindi
Lauper, “Girls just wanna have fun,” and friends… we brought it.
Every where we went, the onlookers feelings of discomfort for our lack of awareness were palpable. We even almost got hit by 4 blind men who quickly ran away (I am not exaggerating) upon further inspection of our attire.
I may not have appreciated this type of attention when I was a naive innocent 20 year old, but in my 30's any attention is better than none at all!
Friday, October 18, 2013
On how supermom makes her kid cry from being too super
Here I come to save the day. As I swooped in my daughters 2nd grade classroom today, for her Oktoberfest celebration, I knew it was true. I was completely certain that I, Andrea, was a superhero.
Rather than show up to work early on a Friday (lame), this superhero opted to make the supreme sacrifice and sleep in an extra hour in order to head to her kids school. (I have never been supermom, and employee of the year simultaneously). I practically skipped into Ella's school (likely from the extra hour's sleep), waltzed into her classroom to a whirlwind of 2nd grade commotion, and was pummeled with a giant, exquisite, baby girl, love of my life, squeeze. The thrill of knowing I put her first (right behind my sleep needs, but well before my work responsibilities), was intoxicating.
She and I hugged and snuggled. I watched all the little crazies pound the sugar, much like I pound beer at an Adult Oktoberfest. And I must say, watching them get wound up on sugar and run around in circles was not too far off from my own crazy experiences with this special German celebration. We listened to a story, did a craft, snuggled and hugged some more. The morning could not have been more perfect.
Ella, noting the time, and recognizing the fast approaching end to our frivolity, started the grand negotiations that so frequently accompany visits like this.
"Momma, can I come home with you?'
"Sorry, baby, momma has to go to work soon."
"But, Mom, I can just sit in your office all day."
"Ella, I have a meeting at 11, and I can't have you sitting in my office all day."
"But, but, I will be really quiet."
"I'm not going to argue with you about this."
"Why, mom, why can't I leave with you?"
"Ella, aside from the fact that you still have 3/4 of your day left at school, and that we aren't arguing about this, I already told you, I have to go to work."
Now come the tears... oh she is a brilliant crier. She starts with those enormous drops of pure sorrow. You can practically see and feel the sadness in each enormous tear. They well up in her big gorgeous liquid eyes, until there is no other choice but to come spilling out and down her sweet round cherubic cheeks. My heart is in my throat. I am completely and utterly heartbroken.
"Mom, why can't you start working at the school? Then I could see you all the time. Grace's mom works at the school, and they can eat lunch together every day."
Oh my poor heart...
"Baby, I would if I could. I have a job, and I'm sorry that it isn't at the school. I would much rather spend my entire day with you. Sadly, I can't."
Tears streaming... the other parents are looking. Sympathetic faces... They don't have meetings or jobs to go back to so there kids are still all smiles. I am smug. Its just me and my girl clinging desperately at the injustice of it all. She and I against the world (fist pump in the air in defiance)!
Sigh, "Ella, here is your choice. I can walk you to lunch, and then leave, or I can leave now amidst your tears."
Duh, no brainer.
"I just want to go with you..." Tears, tears, sob, sob...
"Make your choice, Ella, or I am choosing for you!"
Sniff, sniff, sorrowful gaze, "Okay fine, lunch please."
So, we hold hands and morosely walk to lunch, where in there are more tears and me trying to distract her with funny voices and sounds. I practically do a full on tap dance routine to get a smile on her face. Nothing works. Then, faster than a speeding bullet, her little friend sits across from her in the lunchroom. The friend is highly entertained by my antics, which helps distract Ella. I finally am able to sneak away, from the pleading sad face of my heart.
Once out of the cafeteria, I sneak away from her view to see how long she continues to cry. I'm a total masochist with this stuff. I have to know how long I've devastated my baby, so I can wallow in the guilt of it all day long. Its emotional gluttony, and a delicacy in some parts of the world (of my own making). Low and behold, its an Oktoberfest miracle! She has an enormous grin on her face, and is laughing hysterically with her friend.
WHAT!! REALLY, KID? THAT'S IT?
You tell me... did I just get played, AGAIN, by my 7 year old? UGH Um, yeah, you betcha!
Rather than show up to work early on a Friday (lame), this superhero opted to make the supreme sacrifice and sleep in an extra hour in order to head to her kids school. (I have never been supermom, and employee of the year simultaneously). I practically skipped into Ella's school (likely from the extra hour's sleep), waltzed into her classroom to a whirlwind of 2nd grade commotion, and was pummeled with a giant, exquisite, baby girl, love of my life, squeeze. The thrill of knowing I put her first (right behind my sleep needs, but well before my work responsibilities), was intoxicating.
She and I hugged and snuggled. I watched all the little crazies pound the sugar, much like I pound beer at an Adult Oktoberfest. And I must say, watching them get wound up on sugar and run around in circles was not too far off from my own crazy experiences with this special German celebration. We listened to a story, did a craft, snuggled and hugged some more. The morning could not have been more perfect.
Ella, noting the time, and recognizing the fast approaching end to our frivolity, started the grand negotiations that so frequently accompany visits like this.
"Momma, can I come home with you?'
"Sorry, baby, momma has to go to work soon."
"But, Mom, I can just sit in your office all day."
"Ella, I have a meeting at 11, and I can't have you sitting in my office all day."
"But, but, I will be really quiet."
"I'm not going to argue with you about this."
"Why, mom, why can't I leave with you?"
"Ella, aside from the fact that you still have 3/4 of your day left at school, and that we aren't arguing about this, I already told you, I have to go to work."
Now come the tears... oh she is a brilliant crier. She starts with those enormous drops of pure sorrow. You can practically see and feel the sadness in each enormous tear. They well up in her big gorgeous liquid eyes, until there is no other choice but to come spilling out and down her sweet round cherubic cheeks. My heart is in my throat. I am completely and utterly heartbroken.
"Mom, why can't you start working at the school? Then I could see you all the time. Grace's mom works at the school, and they can eat lunch together every day."
Oh my poor heart...
"Baby, I would if I could. I have a job, and I'm sorry that it isn't at the school. I would much rather spend my entire day with you. Sadly, I can't."
Tears streaming... the other parents are looking. Sympathetic faces... They don't have meetings or jobs to go back to so there kids are still all smiles. I am smug. Its just me and my girl clinging desperately at the injustice of it all. She and I against the world (fist pump in the air in defiance)!
Sigh, "Ella, here is your choice. I can walk you to lunch, and then leave, or I can leave now amidst your tears."
Duh, no brainer.
"I just want to go with you..." Tears, tears, sob, sob...
"Make your choice, Ella, or I am choosing for you!"
Sniff, sniff, sorrowful gaze, "Okay fine, lunch please."
So, we hold hands and morosely walk to lunch, where in there are more tears and me trying to distract her with funny voices and sounds. I practically do a full on tap dance routine to get a smile on her face. Nothing works. Then, faster than a speeding bullet, her little friend sits across from her in the lunchroom. The friend is highly entertained by my antics, which helps distract Ella. I finally am able to sneak away, from the pleading sad face of my heart.
Once out of the cafeteria, I sneak away from her view to see how long she continues to cry. I'm a total masochist with this stuff. I have to know how long I've devastated my baby, so I can wallow in the guilt of it all day long. Its emotional gluttony, and a delicacy in some parts of the world (of my own making). Low and behold, its an Oktoberfest miracle! She has an enormous grin on her face, and is laughing hysterically with her friend.
WHAT!! REALLY, KID? THAT'S IT?
You tell me... did I just get played, AGAIN, by my 7 year old? UGH Um, yeah, you betcha!
Thursday, October 17, 2013
On battling hedonistic lethargy
In this corner, weighing in at one hundred and none of your business pounds, is Lethargy. She is sly, seductive, and completely encompassing. One touch from her tentacles and you will be so unmotivated, you won't even want to enter the ring. And in this corner, weighing in at a firm and fit one hundred and leave me alone pounds, is Productivity. She is in your face, in your place, on your ass, and fixing your space. When this tornado blows by, you have no choice but getting swept up.
Welcome to the battle that has taken up residence in my head. Is it strange that I can find beauty and appeal in both lethargy and productivity. The dual personalities living inside my mind are constantly berating the other. Probably, I'm not schizophrenic, most likely its just my conscience at war. The whole devil/angle shoulder thing comes to mind.
There are days when I wake up and am absurdly active. There is nothing I can't do. Its not a full on manic high, but just simply feels great to get shit done. I'm supermom, rock star girlfriend, and employee of the year. I bust my ass so efficiently and effectively that by the end of this maniacal charade my body simply stops. This episode rarely lasts more than a couple days, and typically is when I am finally able to get caught up on my life's responsibilities.
Perhaps this is the ultimate in procrastination... I revel in lethargy, until I am so far behind in life, my only alternative is to snap out of my hedonistic revelry and start to bust ass again. Probably gonna have to sleep on that little nugget. Yikes!
Speaking of hedonistic revelry... has there every been a more pleasurable experience than deciding to have a read/sleep day? On said day, I can while away an entire afternoon in bed reading and sleeping, reading and sleeping, pissing, eating, reading and sleeping. Bliss... absolute lazy bliss. As enchanting as this experience is, it is ever compounded with GUILT. My angel, other voice, doppelganger, plagues me with this incessant judgement regarding inactivity and apathy. But do I let this horrifically mean and irritating voice get to me? Absolutely, not. I am committed to my lethargy. When at war, I am always routing for sloth to win, though I am 100% positive that is the wrong choice.
Eh... whatevs! Making the right choice is lame. :-)
Welcome to the battle that has taken up residence in my head. Is it strange that I can find beauty and appeal in both lethargy and productivity. The dual personalities living inside my mind are constantly berating the other. Probably, I'm not schizophrenic, most likely its just my conscience at war. The whole devil/angle shoulder thing comes to mind.
There are days when I wake up and am absurdly active. There is nothing I can't do. Its not a full on manic high, but just simply feels great to get shit done. I'm supermom, rock star girlfriend, and employee of the year. I bust my ass so efficiently and effectively that by the end of this maniacal charade my body simply stops. This episode rarely lasts more than a couple days, and typically is when I am finally able to get caught up on my life's responsibilities.
Perhaps this is the ultimate in procrastination... I revel in lethargy, until I am so far behind in life, my only alternative is to snap out of my hedonistic revelry and start to bust ass again. Probably gonna have to sleep on that little nugget. Yikes!
Speaking of hedonistic revelry... has there every been a more pleasurable experience than deciding to have a read/sleep day? On said day, I can while away an entire afternoon in bed reading and sleeping, reading and sleeping, pissing, eating, reading and sleeping. Bliss... absolute lazy bliss. As enchanting as this experience is, it is ever compounded with GUILT. My angel, other voice, doppelganger, plagues me with this incessant judgement regarding inactivity and apathy. But do I let this horrifically mean and irritating voice get to me? Absolutely, not. I am committed to my lethargy. When at war, I am always routing for sloth to win, though I am 100% positive that is the wrong choice.
Eh... whatevs! Making the right choice is lame. :-)
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