An Important Message

Please go to my friend Heather's blog- Singing With My Heart. April has an important message now and she has compiled an excellent post about the subject. She's a strong and courageous young woman who is openly sharing her story as she works through it, heals from it. As a survivor of childhood sexual rape and abuse; as a survivor of sexual assault in my teenage years... I encourage you to go to Heather's blog and read her very well put together post.

Love You With Food

I baked this weekend. Saturday morning, Teagan and I made banana-blueberry muffins. I'd earmarked the recipe and bought the missing ingredients (frozen blueberries and wheat germ) the weekend before. Then I saw that Mrs. 4444 Cooks had made the same muffins and I took it as a sign that I needed to get on it. I took pictures of the entire process. I haven't loaded the pics yet... and my kitchen has horrible lighting so they aren't the best pictures. I'd love to become a better food photographer. We made a dozen muffins and ate 6 of them over the weekend. I ate 2, Jeff ate 1, Teagan ate 1, Zach ate 2. I brought the remaining 6 to work. Last night, I decided that the bag of Ghirardelli semi-sweet morsels sitting in my baking supplies needed to be used ASAP. It's been a long time since I've made cookies from scratch. I remembered that Alton Brown had done a couple of episodes of "Good Eats" on cookies and had recipes on how to make cookies thin or puffy or chewy. I asked Jeff to choose- he chose thin. They are delicious. I don't have a pic of the few I brought to work because they have been consumed. I was even a super nice Mommy... knowing that my Teagan doesn't like chocolate, won't touch chocolate... I made 6 cookies with no chips. Just for her. That's love. That's love. And I realized... it isn't that I love with food. But I do find a profound sense of satisfaction when someone really likes something that I have made with my own hands, something I have made specifically for them. There is a man in our church who cooks and bakes for the church. We have weekly suppers and he is often the chef. He bakes every Sunday morning- raisin cinnamon scones and cinnamon rolls and oatmeal cookie and the most divine chocolate chocolate chip muffins. He has a gift. A talent. And he shares it. He was sitting next to us this week and I raved about my choc-choc muffin... pure bliss. I looked over at my son and he held a chunk of oatmeal cookie in his hand. These cookies are thick and chewy and moist. Not your typical little oatmeal cookie. And it struck me. The pleasure and pride that this man must feel as he looks around and sees all of these people enjoying, taking pleasure, being nourished by something he has created. And a sudden sidebar... I wonder if that is how God feels when he sees us being kind to each other? When he sees us being kind, nourishing, caring, compassionate... when he sees that from the beings he has created? I don't love with just food. But I do show my love with food. And feel love with food. When someone makes something specifically for me... I'm honored. I know I get this from my mother. At every holiday, there is something on the table that belongs to someone. It isn't necessarily some gourmet dish. But it is something that my mother has made for that person. Ryan's Stove Top. Jason's Roasted Potatoes and Carrots. Jeff's Angel Food Cake. Ted's Chocolate Cream. Martha's Cheesecake. And I've started to follow in her food steps. I make my cranberry sauce because my brother, Ted, and my aunt, Martha, love it so much! I really like it, too, of course. But it "completes" their holiday meal. It's another legacy from my mother. And it's a trait I'm proud to carry on. We've recently decided to eat out less and eat in more. Which means more cooking for me. And while the time crunch is stressful, I have to admit to enjoying it. I like cooking. I like tossing together ingredients. I wish I had more time to really cook and become skilled at it. But the food I make tastes good and I take great pleasure in finding something my family really enjoys eating. Jeff likes food that "tastes good." But he also has a very bland palette most of the time. He'd be happy if our weekly menu was baked chicken, rice, peas or broccoli... and frozen pizza. He's happy to lunch on a peanut butter and bologna sandwich. I've yet to make something that he loves. And I've had to learn to disconnect emotions from food in our relationship. I want to show my love by making food he loves, food he can't get enough of. I want him to have a favorite meal or dish that I can make just for him... for his birthday, when he's had a bad day. He doesn't work that way. He doesn't feel love that way. Talk about a disconnected love language! What's funny is that he knows how to love me with food. He can bring home a treat... or make dinner... he can speak my language. My earliest and happiest memories come from my Grandma's kitchen, my Mom's kitchen. My "happy place" in my heart is my Grandma's kitchen (and my memory is of 2 different kitchens that she had during my childhood). Moments that touch my heart now is when my mom bakes and cooks with my daughter and will do so with my son. And I hope that my children have their Grandma's kitchen happy place in their hearts as they move through life. There is a legacy of love and food and cooking in my family. I'm so glad to be part of it and so glad it doesn't end with me.

How Do You Mark Your Territory?

I'm not territorial.

I'm generally a team-focused, open armed, believes that everyone has unique talents to offer kind of person.

So I don't understand it when things turn into an "us vs them" way of being.

I see it, for example, at work. My department is notorious for being "by the book." And we also wrote most of the book. And if anyone tries to have "us" do something that should "officially" be done by some other department or person... or if someone dares to do something that we should be doing... watch out!! And I'm talking down to the smallest details... like who is or isn't allowed to directly contact a supplier. Like who is or isn't allowed to send project information to a supplier. Like who is or isn't allowed to use office supplies.

I see it in online communities.

I see it in friendships.

I see it in relationships (it happened early on when Jeff and I were dating... short version is that his best friend and I shared some guacamole in a restaurant the 3 of us had gone to and Jeff got a bit jealous... territorial. But we are waaaaay past that now.)

Territory. The most interesting definition I found: the area that an animal defends against intruders, esp. of the same species.

Especially of the same species.

Ah ha!

In the office, we are all employees. Same species.

In my dating relationship, Jeff and his friend were of the same species.

Online communities are typically centered around some sort of similarity in interests or hobbies or whatever. Same Species.

It's an interesting dimension that has slapped me around for the past 24 hours or so, very unexpectedly. And from someone that I typically see as exceedingly balanced and fair.

By being less territorial, does that mean I also don't see threats? Or do I just see different threats? I've certainly been in positions where I defend my territory, defend my position.

While I want my kids to know how to defend themselves... I also hope that I raise them to be open to accepting people and situations, even if they seem different. To stay open minded until they really see a few more of the layers that make up a person or experience. To not immediately judge but to seek to understand.

And to be friendly and warm and inviting. And to seek to encourage others to do the same.

Because I'm A Mommy

We typically wake in shifts. Jeff gets up with Teagan at whatever inhuman hour she has chosen- generally in the 5 a.m. time slot. Not long after, Zach and I usually join the family out in the living room. On workday mornings, if I have ended up in Zach's room instead of in our bed, Jeff will set Teagan up in our room, in our bed, snuggled in, watching Disney while he gets his shower. This morning, Teagan came in while Jeff and I were still asleep. She climbed into bed with us. Jeff got up to shower and T asked to watch TV. Still 75% asleep, I slapped along the headboard until I found the remote, tapped the button, punched in the channel and fell back on my pillow. 10 minutes later, Zach is chattering from his Big Boy Bed so I stumble across the hall, pick him up, and bring him to my bed. He lays between me and T and his eyes fix on the TV while he sucks his thumb. Then he wakes up a bit more, notices his sister beside him. He makes his happiest chattery jibberish vocalizations, rolls over, lays on top of her, and puts his head on her chest while squealing. Melt my heart!! She says, with a huge smile, "Good morning, Buddy!!" Throws her arms around him, hugs him tight. Then they go back to watching whatever those blurry images were on the TV screen. This repeats 2 more times. I can barely stand it. Do you know that my kids have special smiles just for each other? Like all siblings, they certainly have fights over toys or hitting or whatever. But the love... I have to admit to being jealous. I didn't grow up with a sibling. I got my brothers when I was a teenager. I have no clue what it is like to have someone who isn't a parent that you've known your entire life. That shares memories with you. When we had Teagan, we were determined and decided to only have one child. A singleton. Jeff and I are both in families where we were the oldest and the siblings who came along did so when we were older. 10, 15, 18 year age gaps. So we didn't know what a sibling relationship could be. I watched my brothers fight. A lot. I know many adult siblings who fight more than anything else. Or who are estranged. So we didn't see the point, really. One voice really pushed. One sibling relationship stood as a different example. My friend Christy. She never pushed, not too much. But she did try to sway me. And I saw how close she and her brother were (are). And I wondered if I could even dream of accomplishing something like that. And we ended up unexpectedly pregnant. And while we are only 14 months into it, watching my children play together... watching Teagan teach Zach and care for Zach... watching Zach study his big sister... hearing them laughing together... laughing as they make up games, never needing words to come up with how the game works... it is truly my greatest joy. 2 of the people that I love most in the entire universe, in the entire vastness of God's creation... loving each other, caring for each other... it's a beauty that words can't define or describe. So I'll make sacrifices. I'll give up my hobbies and passions. I'll make my children my priority. I'll stay up all night worrying. I'll feel depths and levels of emotions that I never knew existed. I'll clean up pee and puke and poop and blood. I'll be the good guy, the bad guy. I'll discipline, be the tough one, be the mean mommy, be the soft place to land. I'll wipe noses, soothe broken hearts, plan birthday parties, explain the unexplainable. I will die to protect them. Because I've been given pieces of heaven. Because I'm a mommy.