The Battlefield

It’s 7:03am morning and from my bunker I hear the faint battle cry of a pint sized soldier. The sun has not fully risen on this day to allow for the necessary optimism to seep into my heart. She is waging war of my wits, my nerves and my sanity.

My body shutters at the notion of spending another day on the front. I rise with dignity, well almost, I’m bra-less, hair muffled, and basically all around unkempt, but the General of this army no less. With each step closer to the enemy barracks I encounter obstacles I should come to expect. Pink plastic land mines, the casualties of my once clean home, the all around devastation from yesterdays fight. The stench of rotting excrement grows closer as I reach my opponent. She sings at the sound of my approach, I unconsciously clench my teeth. With Each step up the mountain to her kingdom, I hear Miley Cyrus telling me “it’s the climb”, and with a shake of my head I mutter, “fuck off”. I’ve made it, it’s just her and I. I muster up any remaining courage and dignity to turn the corner to face my foe. Our eyes meet, she beams with pride at the notion of my coming to her calls. I am defeated.

It’s 7:10am.  I’ve lost the battle. I’m winning the war.

For Shelley and Glor

I can’t even begin to imagine what goes through your mind some days. Eh, Let me restate that. I don’t want to imagine what  you must feel as you review the happiest, and inevitably, the saddest moments of your past.

I can say that through you and your experiences  I’ve learned that sometimes unconditional love from a parent isn’t the magical potion we all hope it to be. That years of dutiful diaper service, and meal prep, house cleaning, and booboo kissing, so that our children can be happy, healthy, and safe, sometimes just won’t be what they need to be happy. And that there may be a day that I have to come to terms with that.

From you and your family, I have learned to embrace every moment of naked sibling time, the nights that cereal for dinner is the perfect meal, and the camping trips that I am sure will feel more like a chore than a vacation at the time. Secretly, I will love when my kids talk about how much of a loser I am. I will remember to smile as my husband takes the millionth picture of the kids in their Halloween costumes. I’ll definitely not take for granted that glimmering moment when my child cross-dresses and acts like a total goofball. I won’t judge my children for being a little off-beat, instead I will love them for every little nuance that makes them unique and mine.

I would like to be the parents that you are. The ones that go to hell and back, the ones that have so many lively memories with their children, that stacks of photos documenting their childhood are only the tip of the iceburg. A parent whose child will never have to entertain the question of if I have done my best, and given enough of myself to be the best Momma I could for them.

I just wanted to say thank you for being those parents to your children, and setting such shining examples of how to do more than just get by, even on the days you don’t want to.

(Home) Strrrreeetccchhh

I think they invented this term specifically for pregnancy. It seems totally appropriate, and unnaturally fitting to call the last week or so of pregnancy by this given term. Home, because all you want to do is sit on your butt, and stretch, because your belly is stretched beyond capacity, and one has to mentally prepare for the fact that her lady parts are about to be as well.

I’ve spent the last few days reflecting.

Enjoying lunch with my daughter, going on 10am movie dates with my husband, taking the dog for an early morning walk to keep sane. Tasting every cookie that Wegman’s has to offer, and indulging in my third dessert for the day, as it won’t be long before I will be back to actually caring that I went over on my food diary by 500 calories!

I have spent much of my life wishing it away, racing to the next milestone, and hoping that each year would be better than the last. As it turns out, this time (these past 2ish years), are exactly what I’ve been (impatiently) waiting for:

Monday mornings kicked off by CK telling Ant to put on a shirt and go to work. Afternoons sharing funny stories via gchat of how our days are going.

Cozy week nights with my little family, watching jeopardy, doing puzzles, (over)eating homemade desserts.

Endearing Saturday traditions of breakfast at a local joint, with a cup of coffee after to officially start our, sometimes, lazy weekends.

It’s these things that make life abundantly wonderful right now. It’s these things that make the unknown of a huge life change, like say a newborn, overtly unsettling.

As happy as I am to make our family complete, my days of wishing for the next chapter to commence are dust in the wind. Savoring today has become my favorite pass time. Change will be good, and as a good friend put it, totally inevitable, but I think I’m allowed to be slightly apprehensive to mixing up this perfect recipe that we have concocting for ourselves.

Hopefully the next ingredient will bring roundness and unique flavor to our batter. Albeit, we won’t know until it’s been baked to perfection, cooled, and then savored in the years to come.

I will say,  there are very few baked goods this family won’t happily indulge in, even if they do taste a little off beat.

 

 

 

Sloppy Seconds

They say, the second time around is easier, smoother, shorter. Somehow the universe had me appeased for 8 long months that I would
be just fine. But alas, terror has set in. I am no more comfortable now, in 2013, as I was in June of 2011. The thought of a child coming out of me renders me paralyzed in fear and ultimately slightly regretful, that I put myself in this position, again.

I guess there is no way around it. Pregnancy ultimately leads to birth. Damn the universe.

In no way am I any more comfortable with a newborn this time around. Any pensive thought I have about the next month of my life elevates my heart rate, and makes me a little on edge.  I enjoy motherhood just fine. Head/neck support, misinterpreted cries, diaper blowouts, and spit-up, not so much.

As I engulf you in my fears, know that I am completely aware that 3 months from now I will be blogging with a completely different mindset. But, at the moment, all I can think about is blood and guts and aliens and burning pee.

It is Saturday, I am holding out hope that the man on the full moon will be on my side Monday night as he was a little less than two years ago. You know, because I am extremely superstitious and all.

However, if there is anytime for superstition it’s in the face of desperation. There are only so many stretch marks, bladder punches, pee breaks, chocolate indulgences, mood swings, and torn pants that one woman can take.

I am grateful to have made it this far, I am. Happy to know that, up to this point my baby is, to my knowledge, healthy and content. Thrilled that my kidneys have cooperated as they have. Really just blessed.

Let’s be real though, this is my body and I want it back!

Dinner with the tax man.

 

 

By that I mean, I owe my dad dinner. Yes, he is our tax man. I like to think that I will never have to think about the numbers in life.

Life’s just too short to worry about taxes. I’d rather count calories, or run 10 miles. No joke. I might even change a poopy diaper over discussing finances.

This year, he made me do a spreadsheet for my Invitation business, and I pretty much kicked and screamed the whole way through it. Luckily, he is pretty patient, or at least when it comes to numbers.

 

So the menu for tonight includes:

Shepherds Pasta, to which I will be adding Swiss Chard, and adapting because I only have half of the ricotta I’m supposed to for the recipe!

Roasted Broccoli

Baba Ganoush: I’ve adapted this Baba Ganoush recipe to make my own special blend of what I believe is the PERFECT appetizer, or in my case, dinner when you eat the entire bowl.

All measurements are rough, and if you like more/less of something then modify it to your liking

Baba Ganoush

2 lbs eggplant

1-2 TBS Lemon Juice

1-2 Cloves Garlic, roughly chopped

2 TBS tahini

a couple of shakes of Cumin

A little Cayenne pepper, if you like spice!

A good amount of Salt, but keep tasting and adding more before dumping a load in!

Pepper

Poke Eggplant with fork all over, roast in 450 degree oven, for at least 30-45 mins (depending on how large) until completely soft.

Remove the eggplants from the oven and let cool on the baking sheet for 5 minutes.  Set a colander in the sink.  Trim the top and bottom off of each eggplant.  Slit the eggplants in half lengthwise.  Use a spoon to scoop the pulp from the skins, and place the pulp in the colander (you should have about 2 cups).  Let the pulp drain for a few minutes.

Transfer the pulp to a food processor.  Combine with the lemon juice, garlic, tahini, cumin, cayenne, salt and pepper.  Process, leaving a little texture to the mixture.  Adjust the seasonings with salt and pepper to taste.  Transfer to a serving bowl.  Cover with plastic wrap pressed onto the surface of the dip, and refrigerate until lightly chilled.

Dip crackers, pita, veggies, or just eat it right out of the damn bowl if you love it enough!

For Dessert:

Berry Oatmeal Bars topped with an almond crumble.