Sometimes in life there are moments that happen that will be cherished forever. Sometimes these moments are planned, and sometimes they are not. Back in November I came across an ad in the Sportcheck flyer and it read, “Maple Leafs Sports Clinics” goalie camp with Leafs goalie JS Giguere. It caught my attention because as you all know, my son is a goalie and he absolutely loves the Leafs. I went online, read a little bit about the day and voila..Registered my little Joseph.
There are not too many times you can get opportunities like this. It was a 4 hour day planned. On Ice training and off ice training. He would get one of his on ice trainings with Giguere himself. There would only be 20 kids per group so I thought it seemed pretty reasonable. My husband and I surprised Joseph with the news and he was so excited but he had to wait over a month for the day to arrive.
On December 12, the day finally arrived. He woke up very excited and he was getting ready to go. I think he was a little nervous because he was quiet and that is not like Joseph to be quiet. My sister Nancy decided she would join us because my husband could not make it, he was busy at work. We packed his bag and we were on our way. It was raining the whole way, and he was silent the whole time.
When we got there, there were dozens of little boys (and a few girls) all waiting for instructions and the day’s agenda. They had lunch first, and then they went on the ice for their first round of training. After an hour, they undressed and went to the off- ice training. When they were done that, they got dressed again to go out on the ice. But this time, they were going to be on the ice with Stanley Cup champion Jean Sebastian Giguere.
The kids were as excited as they were nervous. They make their way out there and they wait for the buzzer to go off. The group before them exits the ice, and then they enter. They all gather in the centre of the ice where the organizer gives them a positive pep talk. “You must be better than the last game, better than yesterday, and better than this morning.” The kids were just listening and absorbing all the positive words. All the moms were watching from the glass, for other reasons than the boys were..lol. After a few minutes he says, “Please welcome JS Giguere. All the kids were banging their sticks on the floor to make the most noise they could. Giguere joined the circle and was just chatting with the boys. After a few minutes, all the kids made a line and they waited for their chance to get their picture taken by a professional photographer with Giguere. What a memory! So they removed their helmets, each child had their smiling shot taken and the clinic began.
After the session was over, they all scurried to the dressing room and continued talking about what they had just experienced. All smiles were around the dressing room. As they were leaving, they all got their signed picture of themselves with Giguere. A keepsake they will always have.
I had brought Joseph’s Leafs jersey just in case I would have a chance to get JS to sign it. He was on the ice with the next group of kids so it was going to be kind of hard. But never underestimate a mother on a mission. My son was shy and said to me, “It’s ok let’s just go.” Oh no no no no. I was going to get that jersey signed no matter what.
I waited for the next group of kids to be done. So as he had done before, he was signing the pics of the individual shots at the bench. This was my chance. I quickly walked to behind the bench where there was just him and 2 young teen girls. 1 of the girls came up to me, and tried to speak. I managed to get JS’s attention and I said, “JS, can you please sign my son’s jersey.” He said, “Sure no problem.” I had to wait for him to sign the rest of the pics. I shook his hand and just chatted a bit. He signed, “To Joseph, JS Giguere.” I thanked him, and I ran back like the wind.
If you would have seen Joseph’s face, it was priceless. He was overwhelmed with joy. As we were walking back to the car, I explained to Joseph that he just witnessed a very valuable lesson. I told him, “Joseph if I would have given up and left when everyone else did, we would not have gotten what we wanted.” I went on to explain that in life no one person will hand you what you want in your lap, you must go get it yourself. He understood what I was saying and he realized that I just taught him something. I said, “The worst thing someone can say to you is No.”
The day was fun. The day was rainy, but the day was amazing. My son experienced something that doesn’t happen very often. He was on a high for the rest of the night. When we got home and he was getting ready for bed I sat beside him and we just chatted like we always do and Joseph and I both agreed that night, that he had just experienced one “sick” day.
That’s my peace today!
Baked Brie with honey and pecans
1 small brie
brie baker
2 tbsp of honey
1/4 c toasted pecans
a drizzle of olive oil
Remove the Brie from it's wrapping and put in an oven proof dish.
Make a few cuts in the top, drizzle with the olive oil
bake for 10 minutes, or until gooey. Remove lid and drizzle with the honey and sprinkle with the chopped pecans.
Serve with lots of French bread to scoop up the gooey cheese.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Never Say Never
So many of you know by now that my daughter and I went to a Justin Bieber concert on Tuesday night. My daughter is a huge fan and I wanted to do something special for her, so we made a date and went.
We got there a little before the concert began and all I saw was thousands of smiley tween girls and cute little girls hurriedly going to their seats. There were 3 opening acts, and by 8:45pm, Justin Bieber walked on stage. Scream after scream. “Justin we love you” being chanted. It was so cute and so amazing to witness. Much to my surprise, he is a very talented and adorable boy. I learned that evening, that he taught himself how to play the guitar, the piano and the drums. I did not expect to enjoy the concert as much as I did.
During the concert, clips of his life were being shown on the big screen. Pictures of him, as a baby, as a toddler, and as a growing boy. Besides the fact that he was a blonde cutie pie, he was always in some kind of activity. It seems like he was actively involved in many hobbies and sports. At one point during the evening he was speaking to the audience. He was introducing the trailer of his new movie. He said to us that there were many haters, and there were many people who didn’t believe in him. They thought he would fail and that he never would have made it. Then he said, “I guess they were wrong.” The crowd went wild and we watched the clip.
When I got home, I went to bed, my ears were ringing but my face had a huge smile. The next morning I was curious to know a little bit more about the Biebster, so I did what any modern girl would do, I wikipedia’d him. I learned that he was born in London, Ontario. I learned that his mother had him when she was 18, and that she raised him on her own. I learned that he got discovered at the ripe young age of 14. Wow! This boy has accomplished popularity beyond anyone’s dreams. He has 4 AMA awards, something artists dream of for years. It took him 2 years.
I felt proud for him. When I was reading his biography it made me realize something. I appreciated the fact that anyone can become anything. He is a small boy, from a small town, in Canada. He is now a house hold name in over 30 countries in the world!
I feel excited. How amazing is the fact that anyone can become anything, when they want to be? How exciting is it that I can tell my children; with effort, determination, and true love, you can achieve the unimaginable. Life is really an open opportunity for all. There is no limit or boundaries that can stop anyone. Stories like this are a true inspiration to the young kids that don’t believe in the mere thought of “believe to receive.”
Imagine if everyone stopped trying for something if they failed? Imagine if we taught our children that they can never become something huge, if they want to be. Imagine if Justin Bieber’s mother told him that he would never be able to be a huge phenomenon? Imagine if she told him when he was younger, that he would never be able to sell out a show at Toronto’s ACC?
Imagine if she told him that even if he practiced, and practiced, and practiced, he still wouldn’t make it? Then she never would have known that her son would be the next big star. She never would have known what it feels like to witness her son accepting an award at the AMA’s. She told all those people that didn’t believe he wouldn’t make it, “Never say Never” because she knew in heart, that never comes faster than you think when you don’t stop trying.
That’s my peace today!
Mushroom with goat cheese melba toasts
2 cups shitake mushrooms
2 tbsp white wine
2 cloves crushed garlic
2 tbsp chopped parsley
salt and pepper to taste
1 package goat cheese
appetizer size melba toasts
4 tbsp olive oil
optional - 1/4 toasted pecans
In a pan, heat oil, add garlic and wine. Add mushrooms salt and pepper and parsley. Remove from heat once cooked (about 5 minutes) Drain and liquid. Arrange the toasts, evenly place the cooked mushroom mixture and top with crumbled goat cheese. Optional -Add a tasted pecan to each
We got there a little before the concert began and all I saw was thousands of smiley tween girls and cute little girls hurriedly going to their seats. There were 3 opening acts, and by 8:45pm, Justin Bieber walked on stage. Scream after scream. “Justin we love you” being chanted. It was so cute and so amazing to witness. Much to my surprise, he is a very talented and adorable boy. I learned that evening, that he taught himself how to play the guitar, the piano and the drums. I did not expect to enjoy the concert as much as I did.
During the concert, clips of his life were being shown on the big screen. Pictures of him, as a baby, as a toddler, and as a growing boy. Besides the fact that he was a blonde cutie pie, he was always in some kind of activity. It seems like he was actively involved in many hobbies and sports. At one point during the evening he was speaking to the audience. He was introducing the trailer of his new movie. He said to us that there were many haters, and there were many people who didn’t believe in him. They thought he would fail and that he never would have made it. Then he said, “I guess they were wrong.” The crowd went wild and we watched the clip.
When I got home, I went to bed, my ears were ringing but my face had a huge smile. The next morning I was curious to know a little bit more about the Biebster, so I did what any modern girl would do, I wikipedia’d him. I learned that he was born in London, Ontario. I learned that his mother had him when she was 18, and that she raised him on her own. I learned that he got discovered at the ripe young age of 14. Wow! This boy has accomplished popularity beyond anyone’s dreams. He has 4 AMA awards, something artists dream of for years. It took him 2 years.
I felt proud for him. When I was reading his biography it made me realize something. I appreciated the fact that anyone can become anything. He is a small boy, from a small town, in Canada. He is now a house hold name in over 30 countries in the world!
I feel excited. How amazing is the fact that anyone can become anything, when they want to be? How exciting is it that I can tell my children; with effort, determination, and true love, you can achieve the unimaginable. Life is really an open opportunity for all. There is no limit or boundaries that can stop anyone. Stories like this are a true inspiration to the young kids that don’t believe in the mere thought of “believe to receive.”
Imagine if everyone stopped trying for something if they failed? Imagine if we taught our children that they can never become something huge, if they want to be. Imagine if Justin Bieber’s mother told him that he would never be able to be a huge phenomenon? Imagine if she told him when he was younger, that he would never be able to sell out a show at Toronto’s ACC?
Imagine if she told him that even if he practiced, and practiced, and practiced, he still wouldn’t make it? Then she never would have known that her son would be the next big star. She never would have known what it feels like to witness her son accepting an award at the AMA’s. She told all those people that didn’t believe he wouldn’t make it, “Never say Never” because she knew in heart, that never comes faster than you think when you don’t stop trying.
That’s my peace today!
Mushroom with goat cheese melba toasts
2 cups shitake mushrooms
2 tbsp white wine
2 cloves crushed garlic
2 tbsp chopped parsley
salt and pepper to taste
1 package goat cheese
appetizer size melba toasts
4 tbsp olive oil
optional - 1/4 toasted pecans
In a pan, heat oil, add garlic and wine. Add mushrooms salt and pepper and parsley. Remove from heat once cooked (about 5 minutes) Drain and liquid. Arrange the toasts, evenly place the cooked mushroom mixture and top with crumbled goat cheese. Optional -Add a tasted pecan to each
Friday, November 12, 2010
30 minutes a day
This week my kids received their progress report. I didn’t really expect anything different than the year before. First I opened up Maria-Alicia’s report. E for Excellent in all the behaviour and independent activity section; developing above level for almost all the academic section. Then, I opened up Joseph’s report. Academically I was happy, he was developing and understanding just fine, I then turned over the paper, all I saw was S, S, S,S.....for Satisfactory. I almost died. Why was he getting satisfactory for his behaviour, conflict resolution and independent work time?
I paused for a little, I think I even had a tear. I then asked Joseph what was going on. He said nothing and that he always gets in trouble at school, even when it’s not him. I am one of those old school mothers when it comes to believing the teacher over my child. I look at it as, of course my son is going to blame the teacher, and he is too small to take responsibility. My husband and I talked it over with him and we both decided to wait until parent teacher interview to hear her side.
Thursday night came and my interview time was 6:40pm. I was nervous because I didn’t know what to expect. I decided Joseph should not be there with me because I felt this should be a confidential conversation between his teacher and I. I arrived and she greeted me with a smile. I sat down, I looked at her and I asked, “What is going on?” At the beginning of the year, Franco and I had gone for curriculum night and she assured us that he was behaving and that all was fine so this is why I was taken aback from the progress report. So she began to explain to me that Joseph is very smart and that he does not have a problem with the work. She said he is a social butterfly and he loves to interact with his friends. She went on to say that he sometimes does not always behave maturely and that he seeks a lot of attention. As she was speaking, bells went off in my head. I always knew that he was an attention seeker because he behaves like that at home, but I never thought he would do the same at school. She went on to tell me that he loves to be praised (not in an arrogant way) but in a child like way, so she praises his good behaviour whenever she could.
I don’t know how I kept the tears from running down my face. I felt like a failure. I felt like someone just confirmed to me what I had known deep down inside, but always tried to ignore. I know that Joseph loves attention but I didn’t realize it was the same at school. The teacher was being sincere in her tone; she calmly suggested that maybe Joseph feels like he is not always heard and that maybe he feels like he has to fight for words at home and he is starting to the same here because he feels like he can never be heard. Again, tears almost began to form; I had to fight ever fibre of being not to cry. I felt like hiding under a rock and throwing stones at myself. I allowed her to finish. I did not get offended or defensive because I knew she meant every word she said with every care in the world. She told me that she thought he was a bright kid, a wonderful free spirited kid, but not always as mature as he should be.
Then it was my turn to speak. I guess I was ok to admit to myself and to her that I do not always give him the attention he needs. All kids are different. Maria-Alicia enjoys being independent she does not need me to praise her every second, Joseph is the opposite. And instead of me comparing him to her, I had to learn to embrace his differences and treat him with more of the love and attention he needed.
I felt empowered when I left the interview. I felt like I had just learned something new in this world of parenthood. As I was going to my daughter’s interview I bumped into another mom. I quickly explained to her the brief realization of my son and how I will not be able to pay as much attention to my other kids as much as I like. She said something really enlightening to me. She said, “Keep your energy and attention for her when she is a teenager because right now she obviously doesn’t need it, but when she does need it you will do just the same for her.” That again, almost made me cry.
I went home and Joseph eagerly asked me what his teacher had said. I sat him down and I told him that she said he is super bright and that she loves being his teacher. I then asked him if he felt like he didn’t get enough attention from us. He looked at me, almost in tears, and said, “Mommy you are always so busy with the babies and you don’t ever have time for us.” I explained to him that he is lucky to have his siblings and that sometimes time gets compromised because of it. But I also came up with a solution. I asked him if we can set aside 30 minutes together every day (just him and I) and we can do whatever he wants in that time. He was excited and said, “I would like that.”
I am starting today (he even reminded me this morning..lol) I try my best every day to be a good mother. I always thought that feeding them, washing their clothes, buying them the necessities was enough, but it is obviously not. I cannot change the way I have been with my son since the babies have arrived. I cannot turn around and give him more of my time that has already passed. What I can do is recognize that I do not spend any alone time with him. I do not sit with him at least once a day and do something with him. I do not have the time that I need to do that to all 4 of my kids. But I have to play it one kid at a time. I have to roll with the punches and fill in the gaps as they come. The other 3 may not need me as much now, my oldest son does.
A mother bites her tongue sometimes when another mother judges. A mother brushes off the comment her own mother makes about her parenting decisions. A mother like the last word when she is arguing with her spouse. Last night when I was sitting there in the small elementary chair and my son’s teacher was speaking, it became all clear to me, I need to enjoy this time with my child. He needs my advice, he needs to hear my thoughts, and he wants to take my advice, because before I know it, I will be the one begging him for just 30 minutes a day.
That's my peace today!
Shrimp and Linguini with Pesto
1 clove garlic crushed
1 tbsp olive oil
1 pack baby shrimps
2 tbs white wine
2 tbs lemon juice
5 tbsp of pesto
1 package linguini
In a pan put garlic and olive oil and heat. Add shrimp, lemon juice and wine. (if there is too much liquid drain some). Once shrimp is pink and cooked, add 1 tbsp of the pesto, toss and put aside. Boil the pasta, drain. In the same pot place the rest of the pesto and mix. Make sure the pasta is well coated with pesto. Top with shrimp.
I paused for a little, I think I even had a tear. I then asked Joseph what was going on. He said nothing and that he always gets in trouble at school, even when it’s not him. I am one of those old school mothers when it comes to believing the teacher over my child. I look at it as, of course my son is going to blame the teacher, and he is too small to take responsibility. My husband and I talked it over with him and we both decided to wait until parent teacher interview to hear her side.
Thursday night came and my interview time was 6:40pm. I was nervous because I didn’t know what to expect. I decided Joseph should not be there with me because I felt this should be a confidential conversation between his teacher and I. I arrived and she greeted me with a smile. I sat down, I looked at her and I asked, “What is going on?” At the beginning of the year, Franco and I had gone for curriculum night and she assured us that he was behaving and that all was fine so this is why I was taken aback from the progress report. So she began to explain to me that Joseph is very smart and that he does not have a problem with the work. She said he is a social butterfly and he loves to interact with his friends. She went on to say that he sometimes does not always behave maturely and that he seeks a lot of attention. As she was speaking, bells went off in my head. I always knew that he was an attention seeker because he behaves like that at home, but I never thought he would do the same at school. She went on to tell me that he loves to be praised (not in an arrogant way) but in a child like way, so she praises his good behaviour whenever she could.
I don’t know how I kept the tears from running down my face. I felt like a failure. I felt like someone just confirmed to me what I had known deep down inside, but always tried to ignore. I know that Joseph loves attention but I didn’t realize it was the same at school. The teacher was being sincere in her tone; she calmly suggested that maybe Joseph feels like he is not always heard and that maybe he feels like he has to fight for words at home and he is starting to the same here because he feels like he can never be heard. Again, tears almost began to form; I had to fight ever fibre of being not to cry. I felt like hiding under a rock and throwing stones at myself. I allowed her to finish. I did not get offended or defensive because I knew she meant every word she said with every care in the world. She told me that she thought he was a bright kid, a wonderful free spirited kid, but not always as mature as he should be.
Then it was my turn to speak. I guess I was ok to admit to myself and to her that I do not always give him the attention he needs. All kids are different. Maria-Alicia enjoys being independent she does not need me to praise her every second, Joseph is the opposite. And instead of me comparing him to her, I had to learn to embrace his differences and treat him with more of the love and attention he needed.
I felt empowered when I left the interview. I felt like I had just learned something new in this world of parenthood. As I was going to my daughter’s interview I bumped into another mom. I quickly explained to her the brief realization of my son and how I will not be able to pay as much attention to my other kids as much as I like. She said something really enlightening to me. She said, “Keep your energy and attention for her when she is a teenager because right now she obviously doesn’t need it, but when she does need it you will do just the same for her.” That again, almost made me cry.
I went home and Joseph eagerly asked me what his teacher had said. I sat him down and I told him that she said he is super bright and that she loves being his teacher. I then asked him if he felt like he didn’t get enough attention from us. He looked at me, almost in tears, and said, “Mommy you are always so busy with the babies and you don’t ever have time for us.” I explained to him that he is lucky to have his siblings and that sometimes time gets compromised because of it. But I also came up with a solution. I asked him if we can set aside 30 minutes together every day (just him and I) and we can do whatever he wants in that time. He was excited and said, “I would like that.”
I am starting today (he even reminded me this morning..lol) I try my best every day to be a good mother. I always thought that feeding them, washing their clothes, buying them the necessities was enough, but it is obviously not. I cannot change the way I have been with my son since the babies have arrived. I cannot turn around and give him more of my time that has already passed. What I can do is recognize that I do not spend any alone time with him. I do not sit with him at least once a day and do something with him. I do not have the time that I need to do that to all 4 of my kids. But I have to play it one kid at a time. I have to roll with the punches and fill in the gaps as they come. The other 3 may not need me as much now, my oldest son does.
A mother bites her tongue sometimes when another mother judges. A mother brushes off the comment her own mother makes about her parenting decisions. A mother like the last word when she is arguing with her spouse. Last night when I was sitting there in the small elementary chair and my son’s teacher was speaking, it became all clear to me, I need to enjoy this time with my child. He needs my advice, he needs to hear my thoughts, and he wants to take my advice, because before I know it, I will be the one begging him for just 30 minutes a day.
That's my peace today!
Shrimp and Linguini with Pesto
1 clove garlic crushed
1 tbsp olive oil
1 pack baby shrimps
2 tbs white wine
2 tbs lemon juice
5 tbsp of pesto
1 package linguini
In a pan put garlic and olive oil and heat. Add shrimp, lemon juice and wine. (if there is too much liquid drain some). Once shrimp is pink and cooked, add 1 tbsp of the pesto, toss and put aside. Boil the pasta, drain. In the same pot place the rest of the pesto and mix. Make sure the pasta is well coated with pesto. Top with shrimp.
Friday, November 5, 2010
The role of a mother
The role of a mother begins from the moment you find out you are going to have a baby. The thoughts, the worries, the planning and all the sleepless nights occur. From the second your child is born your role in life becomes that much more important. You vow to take care of this child for the rest of their life.
Many women I know constantly question the way they are raising their kids. They call me or other mothers and ask for advice when you don’t know if you made the right decision. You second guess every little choice you make and you worry over a virus as common as the cold.
A mother is strong, not in strength, but in mind. They teach the family that love always comes first, and that a woman’s heart is her children. She teaches the family that the best people you will have in your life will be your siblings, and she will teach you that love can never be bought.
A mother’s day will be brightened by the simplest things; a good test mark, making the volleyball team, a compliment from another parent about your child, or the face she sees when her kids realize she made their favourite for dinner. Mothers are simple. They love and they need love back. They hug, and they need hugs back, they respect and they expect respect back.
A mother will never lie to you. A mother will never cheat on you, and a mother will never put anyone before you. A mother will cheer you on, even though you really suck at skating. A mother will stick up for you even though you really did break your brother’s hockey book. A mother will also always tell you that it’s not ok to be mean, and that it’s not ok to hurt someone’s feelings. A mother is there to sew your ripped sweater, or she is there to bring in to the cleaners to get fixed..lol. She will always find the way to make it right.
A mother will always wonder if she is doing the right thing. She will ask herself if her own mother would have done the same. A mother is a woman that is very important in your life. She is someone you want beside you every day when life is hard, or challenging, or just plain unfair.
I am sorry for all the friends I have, that have lost their mothers at a young age. I know that they miss them every day. I know that they think of them every day. I know that they strive to be like them every day. I cannot imagine the pain and the hurt someone feels when they lose their mother. The mother is the head of the household, the bricks in the home, and the soul of the family.
The only comfort I can offer to these dear friends of mine, is that the woman they miss is always there watching over them. She still is there to hold their hand when they are nervous for that interview. She is still there to make things feel better when they are hurt by someone’s ill intentions. She is still there to secretly advice them, when they don’t know what to do if their teenage child is out of line. A mother is a mother for life. When we are born she makes it understood that she is there for you always. You recognize her smell, her voice, and most importantly you recognize her love.
When we are little, our mothers are our hero’s. They are our mentors. They are our strength. Without you knowing, a mother teaches us that even though we don’t want to, we become them. A mother teaches us that we want to love so much more than we want to hate. A mother teaches us that they want so much more for us, than they ever had. A mother teaches us that even when they leave this earth, they are still guiding us. To all my friends that have lost their mothers, I commend your strength, I commend your courage, and I commend your spirits. You have been taught by her that she will by your side every day, that her job is never over and that she will be with you always. Because she assured you a long time before, that is her role as a mother.
That’s my peace today!
Apple Cake
5 apples diced
2 cups flour
2 cups sugar
1/2 tsp baking powder, salt, baking soda
2 tsp cinnimon
2 eggs
1 cup oil
1 tsp vanilla
in a bowl mix sugar, oil, vanilla, and eggs. In a seperate bowl mix dry ingredients. Add dry ingredients into egg mixture, mix with a spoon.Fold in apples. Bake at 350 degrees for 50 minutes in a 13x9 pan lined wth parchmen paper.
Many women I know constantly question the way they are raising their kids. They call me or other mothers and ask for advice when you don’t know if you made the right decision. You second guess every little choice you make and you worry over a virus as common as the cold.
A mother is strong, not in strength, but in mind. They teach the family that love always comes first, and that a woman’s heart is her children. She teaches the family that the best people you will have in your life will be your siblings, and she will teach you that love can never be bought.
A mother’s day will be brightened by the simplest things; a good test mark, making the volleyball team, a compliment from another parent about your child, or the face she sees when her kids realize she made their favourite for dinner. Mothers are simple. They love and they need love back. They hug, and they need hugs back, they respect and they expect respect back.
A mother will never lie to you. A mother will never cheat on you, and a mother will never put anyone before you. A mother will cheer you on, even though you really suck at skating. A mother will stick up for you even though you really did break your brother’s hockey book. A mother will also always tell you that it’s not ok to be mean, and that it’s not ok to hurt someone’s feelings. A mother is there to sew your ripped sweater, or she is there to bring in to the cleaners to get fixed..lol. She will always find the way to make it right.
A mother will always wonder if she is doing the right thing. She will ask herself if her own mother would have done the same. A mother is a woman that is very important in your life. She is someone you want beside you every day when life is hard, or challenging, or just plain unfair.
I am sorry for all the friends I have, that have lost their mothers at a young age. I know that they miss them every day. I know that they think of them every day. I know that they strive to be like them every day. I cannot imagine the pain and the hurt someone feels when they lose their mother. The mother is the head of the household, the bricks in the home, and the soul of the family.
The only comfort I can offer to these dear friends of mine, is that the woman they miss is always there watching over them. She still is there to hold their hand when they are nervous for that interview. She is still there to make things feel better when they are hurt by someone’s ill intentions. She is still there to secretly advice them, when they don’t know what to do if their teenage child is out of line. A mother is a mother for life. When we are born she makes it understood that she is there for you always. You recognize her smell, her voice, and most importantly you recognize her love.
When we are little, our mothers are our hero’s. They are our mentors. They are our strength. Without you knowing, a mother teaches us that even though we don’t want to, we become them. A mother teaches us that we want to love so much more than we want to hate. A mother teaches us that they want so much more for us, than they ever had. A mother teaches us that even when they leave this earth, they are still guiding us. To all my friends that have lost their mothers, I commend your strength, I commend your courage, and I commend your spirits. You have been taught by her that she will by your side every day, that her job is never over and that she will be with you always. Because she assured you a long time before, that is her role as a mother.
That’s my peace today!
Apple Cake
5 apples diced
2 cups flour
2 cups sugar
1/2 tsp baking powder, salt, baking soda
2 tsp cinnimon
2 eggs
1 cup oil
1 tsp vanilla
in a bowl mix sugar, oil, vanilla, and eggs. In a seperate bowl mix dry ingredients. Add dry ingredients into egg mixture, mix with a spoon.Fold in apples. Bake at 350 degrees for 50 minutes in a 13x9 pan lined wth parchmen paper.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Scars and Stretch marks do not make you a mother; Love does
There was a point in my life (for 6 years) when I lived in Montreal. I had just gotten married and was ready to start a new life. I was working in an Advertising Agency and I was doing what I loved most. 10 months after marriage, I got pregnant with my first child, and 9 months after that, I had Joseph.
After 18 months of an extended Mat leave, I came back to work to find many changes in the office. There was new people and new accounts. Our company had replaced my direct manager with some new chick from the States..lol.
At first, Jackie was tough and direct, not really letting me into her personal life. I remember a moment in her office when I began to open up to her and get more personal. I knew she was married and that she didn’t have any children. So I asked her if she wanted any. She replied with, “No, I am quite content with my husband Tony.” She had moved all the way from Atlanta, Georgia to be with her husband. I went on to tell her how wonderful motherhood was and how it changed my life and so on and so on. She just looked at me, smiled, and changed the subject. I did not want to tell her at the time, but I thought she was kind of cold to openly say she had no desire for children.
Call me naive, or call me rude, but I feel like it should be a woman’s natural instinct to want to be a mother. Sometimes in life, things happen, and our road does not lead us down that path, but to openly admit that you do not want kids ever, felt strange to me.
After a few months of working together, Jackie and I became 2 peas in a pod. I embraced her strong Atlanta accent, and she embraced my Italian Toronto accent. It was great, I taught her how to make tomato sauce and jarred olives, and she taught me that not all African American people liked the reggae singer “Shaggy.”..lol. We grew to be very close. Eventually Jackie admitted to me that she and Tony really wanted children and they were exploring the option of adoption.
It was the end of summer, turning into fall when she buzzed me into her office. She was on the phone; I walked up to her desk and on a sticky note, in her beautiful penmanship, she wrote, “It’s a boy.” I gasped, tears in my eyes began to form, and just like that, Jackie was a mom.
Her baby boy was born September 4th, 2003 and 8 days later he was at home with his new mommy and daddy. All those years of wondering if she would ever know the feeling of love for her own child, just came true.
They decided to name their new son Keenan. She was giving a home to this little boy that was being given up for adoption, not because he was not loved by his biological mother, but because she knew that Jackie and Tony would be able to care for him so much more than she could.
Baby Keenan was welcomed home by his grandmothers, his aunties, and his cousins. He had so much love around him, and not 1 person treated him any differently than had Jackie delivered him herself. Jackie took an 8 month maternity leave which turned into an entirety leave...lol. She left our company because she decided to stay home with the new love of her life. I remember one day when I was speaking to her after one of her first few days at home and she told me this, “I cannot believe how much I love this little boy, I always knew I wanted to be a mother but I didn’t know I would be so lucky to have him as MY son.” She was so proud that he was hers, and that she was given the opportunity to raise him.
Tony, Jackie and Keenan eventually moved back to Atlanta, and I eventually moved back to Toronto. But for those years that we lived in the same city we learned a lot from each other. I taught her that not all blondes are ditsy...lol..(ok maybe some more than others)and she taught me that you do not have to give birth to a child to become a mother.
It has been over 7 years since little Keenan was brought into this world, and one day he will learn how much love he brought to a couple that longed for him for so long. He will learn that he made Jackie a mom; and he will learn that her life means so much more, now that he’s in it. He will learn that his biological mother gave Jackie a gift that was more important than any other gift she will receive. And one day little Keenan will learn that in life, scars and stretch marks do not make you a mother; love does.
That’s my peace today!
Jarred Olives
1 case of olives (seasonal in early all)
1 pack salt
1 container of fennel seeds
15 red chilli peppers (whole)
cold water
6 cloves garlic seperated in large pieces
1 egg
15 mason jars
With a mallot, smash the olives (not too hard, just hard enough to split open) keep the bone in. Once that is done, rinse the olives in cold water. In a clean bucket, add cold water (enough to fill 15 jars for the olives, place the egg in the bucket and add the salt. Once the egg surfaces to the top of the water you have put enough salt. Meanwhile, evenly put the fennel seeds, 1 pepper and garlic in jars. Begin to fill with the olives. Once all jars are full, pour the salted water in the jars (completely cover the olives) close the lids very tight. You can enjoy after about 4 months.
After 18 months of an extended Mat leave, I came back to work to find many changes in the office. There was new people and new accounts. Our company had replaced my direct manager with some new chick from the States..lol.
At first, Jackie was tough and direct, not really letting me into her personal life. I remember a moment in her office when I began to open up to her and get more personal. I knew she was married and that she didn’t have any children. So I asked her if she wanted any. She replied with, “No, I am quite content with my husband Tony.” She had moved all the way from Atlanta, Georgia to be with her husband. I went on to tell her how wonderful motherhood was and how it changed my life and so on and so on. She just looked at me, smiled, and changed the subject. I did not want to tell her at the time, but I thought she was kind of cold to openly say she had no desire for children.
Call me naive, or call me rude, but I feel like it should be a woman’s natural instinct to want to be a mother. Sometimes in life, things happen, and our road does not lead us down that path, but to openly admit that you do not want kids ever, felt strange to me.
After a few months of working together, Jackie and I became 2 peas in a pod. I embraced her strong Atlanta accent, and she embraced my Italian Toronto accent. It was great, I taught her how to make tomato sauce and jarred olives, and she taught me that not all African American people liked the reggae singer “Shaggy.”..lol. We grew to be very close. Eventually Jackie admitted to me that she and Tony really wanted children and they were exploring the option of adoption.
It was the end of summer, turning into fall when she buzzed me into her office. She was on the phone; I walked up to her desk and on a sticky note, in her beautiful penmanship, she wrote, “It’s a boy.” I gasped, tears in my eyes began to form, and just like that, Jackie was a mom.
Her baby boy was born September 4th, 2003 and 8 days later he was at home with his new mommy and daddy. All those years of wondering if she would ever know the feeling of love for her own child, just came true.
They decided to name their new son Keenan. She was giving a home to this little boy that was being given up for adoption, not because he was not loved by his biological mother, but because she knew that Jackie and Tony would be able to care for him so much more than she could.
Baby Keenan was welcomed home by his grandmothers, his aunties, and his cousins. He had so much love around him, and not 1 person treated him any differently than had Jackie delivered him herself. Jackie took an 8 month maternity leave which turned into an entirety leave...lol. She left our company because she decided to stay home with the new love of her life. I remember one day when I was speaking to her after one of her first few days at home and she told me this, “I cannot believe how much I love this little boy, I always knew I wanted to be a mother but I didn’t know I would be so lucky to have him as MY son.” She was so proud that he was hers, and that she was given the opportunity to raise him.
Tony, Jackie and Keenan eventually moved back to Atlanta, and I eventually moved back to Toronto. But for those years that we lived in the same city we learned a lot from each other. I taught her that not all blondes are ditsy...lol..(ok maybe some more than others)and she taught me that you do not have to give birth to a child to become a mother.
It has been over 7 years since little Keenan was brought into this world, and one day he will learn how much love he brought to a couple that longed for him for so long. He will learn that he made Jackie a mom; and he will learn that her life means so much more, now that he’s in it. He will learn that his biological mother gave Jackie a gift that was more important than any other gift she will receive. And one day little Keenan will learn that in life, scars and stretch marks do not make you a mother; love does.
That’s my peace today!
Jarred Olives
1 case of olives (seasonal in early all)
1 pack salt
1 container of fennel seeds
15 red chilli peppers (whole)
cold water
6 cloves garlic seperated in large pieces
1 egg
15 mason jars
With a mallot, smash the olives (not too hard, just hard enough to split open) keep the bone in. Once that is done, rinse the olives in cold water. In a clean bucket, add cold water (enough to fill 15 jars for the olives, place the egg in the bucket and add the salt. Once the egg surfaces to the top of the water you have put enough salt. Meanwhile, evenly put the fennel seeds, 1 pepper and garlic in jars. Begin to fill with the olives. Once all jars are full, pour the salted water in the jars (completely cover the olives) close the lids very tight. You can enjoy after about 4 months.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
It is confirmed...I am not the only one
We all like to think of ourselves as good people. We take pride in our accomplishments and we take pride in our family. We are taught from when we are little that we should mind our manners and be polite to others. We learn how to keep secrets, and we learn that we should not always tell our teachers what mommy and daddy say to each other when they are upset. We just learn to behave and conform to every one’s expectation of what “normal” is.
I can tell you, over 9 years ago, my “normal” changed. Not the definition of normal, but my normal with myself and others. I remember feeling overwhelmed and raw after I joined the world of motherhood. The feeling of naivety and paranoia. It is something I did not understand and even care to understand. I pretended to everyone that it was all good, and life was as “normal” as the next person.
We just assume that everyone else is doing a better job. We assume that their home is neater, cleaner and their children are more behaved than our own. I know I have told my own children things like, “Daniel would never say that to his mother” or “Daniel helps his mom out all the time” and when I say things like that, I guess I can say that I am only assuming. I don’t live in Daniel’s house, so I don’t know how Daniel treats his mom when I am not there.
I think that sometimes we (at least I am) too hard on ourselves. We want so much to be a good parent; a role model; a perfect wife that we don’t realize that we most likely are. Sometimes I question myself and my own thoughts. I wonder if it’s “normal” to want space from your child that is constantly begging you for next year’s birthday gift a day after this year’s birthday. I sometimes wonder if it’s “normal” to want to run up to bed before my husband, so I can get some well deserved sleep. And I also wonder if it’s “normal” to enjoy leaving my kids for an hour so I can go exercise.
We have friends that we confide in. Some of us are lucky enough to have sisters to talk to, and some even go to the extent of discussing these things with their own mothers..lol. And if you have great people in your life like I do, then they will tell you that everything we think and question and wonder is “normal”...is. They will back you up and tell you that they too have those feelings. They will not listen and silently judge, but instead, they will add in to the conversation and add some of their own frustrating examples of their own spouses and sometimes spoiled children. They will reassure you that you are a good mother, and you are not screwing your kids up by sending them to their room for being rude. They will reassure you that life is not always greener on the other side, and in fact, weeds grow much quicker on perfectly landscaped lawn, than on ones that are run on, rolled on, and laughed on.
Today, I am speaking for all the mothers that ever felt like they were alone. I am speaking for all the mothers who ever questioned if they were good mothers. I am speaking for all the mothers that have ever wondered if what they are feeling is “normal”. I am speaking for all mothers who actually THINK that mothers really do “Bake in heels”.
With age comes wrinkles, crow’s lines, and most importantly, what comes with age is experience. It is the experience to know that we are great at what we do, as long as we do it with good intention; love and strength. We learn that when we try our best, good things happen. We also learn that in our hectic lives of motherhood there are moments of reflection; moments of silence; and moments of gracefulness. And when sometimes you wonder or you question if what you are thinking, or what you just said to your child was a “normal” thing for a mother to say, then pick up the phone and call another mother. You will realize and it will be confirmed...that you are not the only one!
That’s my peace today!
Roasted Red Pepper Panino
3 red peppers
2 cloves garlic
6 large springs of basil
1/4 cup olive oil
salt and oregano
4 large buns
Roast peppers on grill or in oven, for at least 30 minutes (flip half wa through) let cool. Peel skin off peppers and with your hands, seperate peppers in strips. Place in a bowl. Add cut garlic, oil, salt, oregano and basil. Toss to make sure it is well coated. (you can add more oil if it is not oily enough) Divide evenly into 4 large buns. You can grill on a presser if you choose too.
I can tell you, over 9 years ago, my “normal” changed. Not the definition of normal, but my normal with myself and others. I remember feeling overwhelmed and raw after I joined the world of motherhood. The feeling of naivety and paranoia. It is something I did not understand and even care to understand. I pretended to everyone that it was all good, and life was as “normal” as the next person.
We just assume that everyone else is doing a better job. We assume that their home is neater, cleaner and their children are more behaved than our own. I know I have told my own children things like, “Daniel would never say that to his mother” or “Daniel helps his mom out all the time” and when I say things like that, I guess I can say that I am only assuming. I don’t live in Daniel’s house, so I don’t know how Daniel treats his mom when I am not there.
I think that sometimes we (at least I am) too hard on ourselves. We want so much to be a good parent; a role model; a perfect wife that we don’t realize that we most likely are. Sometimes I question myself and my own thoughts. I wonder if it’s “normal” to want space from your child that is constantly begging you for next year’s birthday gift a day after this year’s birthday. I sometimes wonder if it’s “normal” to want to run up to bed before my husband, so I can get some well deserved sleep. And I also wonder if it’s “normal” to enjoy leaving my kids for an hour so I can go exercise.
We have friends that we confide in. Some of us are lucky enough to have sisters to talk to, and some even go to the extent of discussing these things with their own mothers..lol. And if you have great people in your life like I do, then they will tell you that everything we think and question and wonder is “normal”...is. They will back you up and tell you that they too have those feelings. They will not listen and silently judge, but instead, they will add in to the conversation and add some of their own frustrating examples of their own spouses and sometimes spoiled children. They will reassure you that you are a good mother, and you are not screwing your kids up by sending them to their room for being rude. They will reassure you that life is not always greener on the other side, and in fact, weeds grow much quicker on perfectly landscaped lawn, than on ones that are run on, rolled on, and laughed on.
Today, I am speaking for all the mothers that ever felt like they were alone. I am speaking for all the mothers who ever questioned if they were good mothers. I am speaking for all the mothers that have ever wondered if what they are feeling is “normal”. I am speaking for all mothers who actually THINK that mothers really do “Bake in heels”.
With age comes wrinkles, crow’s lines, and most importantly, what comes with age is experience. It is the experience to know that we are great at what we do, as long as we do it with good intention; love and strength. We learn that when we try our best, good things happen. We also learn that in our hectic lives of motherhood there are moments of reflection; moments of silence; and moments of gracefulness. And when sometimes you wonder or you question if what you are thinking, or what you just said to your child was a “normal” thing for a mother to say, then pick up the phone and call another mother. You will realize and it will be confirmed...that you are not the only one!
That’s my peace today!
Roasted Red Pepper Panino
3 red peppers
2 cloves garlic
6 large springs of basil
1/4 cup olive oil
salt and oregano
4 large buns
Roast peppers on grill or in oven, for at least 30 minutes (flip half wa through) let cool. Peel skin off peppers and with your hands, seperate peppers in strips. Place in a bowl. Add cut garlic, oil, salt, oregano and basil. Toss to make sure it is well coated. (you can add more oil if it is not oily enough) Divide evenly into 4 large buns. You can grill on a presser if you choose too.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Momma said there'd be days like this
Being a parent is not easy. You have good days, and you have bad days...and then you have really bad days. Sometimes I wonder why there isn’t warning labels on pregnancy tests. Something like “WARNING...your future will forever change and there aint no way of turning back so hold on, and don’t ever let go”. We are warned by many of our peers, and from our very own mothers, but for some reason it doesn’t mean anything until you go through it.
Over the weekend I was at my parent’s house. My husband was working and I was there with the twins. Merly and Joseph had gone out with my sister and aunt. My dad was upstairs doing some stuff and me and my mom were in the basement, just chatting. I was looking at the weekly flyers and my mother was sitting on the couch. Michael and Jenna decided to play. When I say play, I mean, they decided to stand on the couch and jump. In one second, I hear a bang; I jump up and see Jenna had fallen backwards flat on her head from the couch. The basement has ceramic tiles, with a thin area rug. I ran towards her, she was crying a little and then...OMG...I was not prepared for what happened next.
Jenna‘s eyes began to roll in the back of her head and her whole body went limp, she looked like she stopped breathing. I ran with my mother to the sink, Jenna in arms, and we threw water on her face. Nothing! She was not moving, she was not responsive. I panicked! I began screaming, “Call 911, Call 911!” My father ran downstairs because he heard all the commotion. He took over. I was on the phone with 911:
“911...what’s your emergency?”
“My daughter fell, she’s not breathing, she’s not responding”
“Ok Mom, calm down.”
At that moment, my dad yelled out, “She’s breathing, she’s breathing.” I gasp and told the operator she was now breathing. “Paramedics are on the way.” Is what she assured me. My daughter looked frail and week; I could not believe what had just happened.
Kids fall all the time, they bump their heads; they cry; you put ice on the bump; and they are ok. Not this time. When I looked at my daughter, I thought we had lost her. I thought she hit her tiny little head so hard that it was just too much for her to handle. I don’t know what I was thinking at the moment I was screaming to call 911, and I don’t know how I even had the brains to find the phone, I just kept thinking in my mind, “this can’t be happening, how could this be happening?” We were just sitting there doing nothing, how can we now be calling the ambulance.
The fire department arrived first. (911 now knew she was responsive). They assessed her, and we waiting for the EMT. They then arrived, assessed her and reassured me she was ok. The paramedics explained to me that she most likely got the wind knocked out of her because she did not have a bump on her head. He then said to me that kid’s bones are a lot more resilient than we think. He did tell me to keep an eye on her and to wake her up several times that night to make sure she was responsive. In the meantime, my other daughter arrived back with my aunt, and my sister arrived back with Joseph. Everyone was surprised to see what the heck they had missed. My poor little 6 year old began to cry when she found out her baby sister had fallen. Ironically enough, she had just come back from buying a very shiny sticker that said, “I love my sister.”
As we were sitting there with the firefighters, paramedics, and police people (yes they came too). They said exactly what I was thinking; “When you have children, you have to expect things like this. They will fall, and they will scare you when they do, the only important thing is that you can joke about it after, and if you can, you know it’s just part of the process.”
When you become a parent you are never prepared for all the “unfun” things of it. You buy diapers for their pee and poo; you buy baby body wash for their baths; and you buy pj’s for their naps. You never want to prepare for the moments you will be screaming, searching for the phone, and calling 911. These are the things we wish we can skip. These are the parts of parenthood that we never want to go through. But I guess what doesn’t kill you, does make you stronger..I hope.
I cannot explain to you the feeling I had when I thought my Jenna was not going to make it. It was surreal, it was unimaginable, I wanted to just shake it all off and pretend it was not happening. The worst thing they tell you not to do in a situation is panic. But how can you not panic when you see your 2 year old daughter limp, and unresponsive? It’s harder than you can imagine.
I later asked Jenna where she did “boo boo”? and she pointed to her back. Your back? What? I guess that’s why she did not have a bump, and I guess she really did get the wind knocked out of her. Thank God my father was there to take over because me and mother needed our own resuscitator to help us breathe..lol. I am glad I can now laugh about it, and I can now add it to the list of things I get to tell my kids when they are older why they almost gave me heart failures. I guess I will just add it to the list of life, and mother hood. I guess I will just define it as one of those days... because my momma said there’d be days like this, and I guess we both should have known that.
That’s my peace today!
Rustica
1 pizza dough
8 slices of provonle cheese
1 cup shredded mozzarella and fontina cheese
8 slices ham
1 tub ricotta
1 egg white, 1 tsp water for glazing
Roll out dough to thin round circle. Lay the ham and provolone cheese around the outer part, spread mozzarella and fontina cheese evenly. Pour the ricotta in the middle. Invisibly divide the dough into 4 pieces, fold over each piece, leaving the ricotta in the middle exposed. The dough should look like a wreath, with a whole in the middle. Glaze the outside with the egg wash. Place in oven at 425 degrees for 15 minutes or until golden brown.
Over the weekend I was at my parent’s house. My husband was working and I was there with the twins. Merly and Joseph had gone out with my sister and aunt. My dad was upstairs doing some stuff and me and my mom were in the basement, just chatting. I was looking at the weekly flyers and my mother was sitting on the couch. Michael and Jenna decided to play. When I say play, I mean, they decided to stand on the couch and jump. In one second, I hear a bang; I jump up and see Jenna had fallen backwards flat on her head from the couch. The basement has ceramic tiles, with a thin area rug. I ran towards her, she was crying a little and then...OMG...I was not prepared for what happened next.
Jenna‘s eyes began to roll in the back of her head and her whole body went limp, she looked like she stopped breathing. I ran with my mother to the sink, Jenna in arms, and we threw water on her face. Nothing! She was not moving, she was not responsive. I panicked! I began screaming, “Call 911, Call 911!” My father ran downstairs because he heard all the commotion. He took over. I was on the phone with 911:
“911...what’s your emergency?”
“My daughter fell, she’s not breathing, she’s not responding”
“Ok Mom, calm down.”
At that moment, my dad yelled out, “She’s breathing, she’s breathing.” I gasp and told the operator she was now breathing. “Paramedics are on the way.” Is what she assured me. My daughter looked frail and week; I could not believe what had just happened.
Kids fall all the time, they bump their heads; they cry; you put ice on the bump; and they are ok. Not this time. When I looked at my daughter, I thought we had lost her. I thought she hit her tiny little head so hard that it was just too much for her to handle. I don’t know what I was thinking at the moment I was screaming to call 911, and I don’t know how I even had the brains to find the phone, I just kept thinking in my mind, “this can’t be happening, how could this be happening?” We were just sitting there doing nothing, how can we now be calling the ambulance.
The fire department arrived first. (911 now knew she was responsive). They assessed her, and we waiting for the EMT. They then arrived, assessed her and reassured me she was ok. The paramedics explained to me that she most likely got the wind knocked out of her because she did not have a bump on her head. He then said to me that kid’s bones are a lot more resilient than we think. He did tell me to keep an eye on her and to wake her up several times that night to make sure she was responsive. In the meantime, my other daughter arrived back with my aunt, and my sister arrived back with Joseph. Everyone was surprised to see what the heck they had missed. My poor little 6 year old began to cry when she found out her baby sister had fallen. Ironically enough, she had just come back from buying a very shiny sticker that said, “I love my sister.”
As we were sitting there with the firefighters, paramedics, and police people (yes they came too). They said exactly what I was thinking; “When you have children, you have to expect things like this. They will fall, and they will scare you when they do, the only important thing is that you can joke about it after, and if you can, you know it’s just part of the process.”
When you become a parent you are never prepared for all the “unfun” things of it. You buy diapers for their pee and poo; you buy baby body wash for their baths; and you buy pj’s for their naps. You never want to prepare for the moments you will be screaming, searching for the phone, and calling 911. These are the things we wish we can skip. These are the parts of parenthood that we never want to go through. But I guess what doesn’t kill you, does make you stronger..I hope.
I cannot explain to you the feeling I had when I thought my Jenna was not going to make it. It was surreal, it was unimaginable, I wanted to just shake it all off and pretend it was not happening. The worst thing they tell you not to do in a situation is panic. But how can you not panic when you see your 2 year old daughter limp, and unresponsive? It’s harder than you can imagine.
I later asked Jenna where she did “boo boo”? and she pointed to her back. Your back? What? I guess that’s why she did not have a bump, and I guess she really did get the wind knocked out of her. Thank God my father was there to take over because me and mother needed our own resuscitator to help us breathe..lol. I am glad I can now laugh about it, and I can now add it to the list of things I get to tell my kids when they are older why they almost gave me heart failures. I guess I will just add it to the list of life, and mother hood. I guess I will just define it as one of those days... because my momma said there’d be days like this, and I guess we both should have known that.
That’s my peace today!
Rustica
1 pizza dough
8 slices of provonle cheese
1 cup shredded mozzarella and fontina cheese
8 slices ham
1 tub ricotta
1 egg white, 1 tsp water for glazing
Roll out dough to thin round circle. Lay the ham and provolone cheese around the outer part, spread mozzarella and fontina cheese evenly. Pour the ricotta in the middle. Invisibly divide the dough into 4 pieces, fold over each piece, leaving the ricotta in the middle exposed. The dough should look like a wreath, with a whole in the middle. Glaze the outside with the egg wash. Place in oven at 425 degrees for 15 minutes or until golden brown.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
At the ripe old age of 99
Yesterday I was driving home, and I was stopped at the lights. Crossing right in front of my car were 2 young teenage girls being silly, holding hands and just giggling. I suddenly got a flashback from my youth. I remember the days of hanging out with my friends, making plans to go to a movie and talk about the guy we had a major crush on.
In high school we want so badly to grow up. We want to wear heels, wear make-up, drive around, and stay up late. We think that life gets easier when we get older because we make our own rules. We think we know about life and we think that life is so stressful. All we want to do is get ready for the next party. We think hanging out with our parent’s sucks, and we want nothing to do with them.
This is all part of the journey. It is the part where we know it all and we hate our parents for all their useless rules. I was thinking back at those moments in my life. I had a great time growing up. I had great friends and I thought I was at the peak of life. I thought that life was very serious, and that it would not get harder than that. I remember thinking women in their 20’s were “older” girls and women in their 30’s..Well they were useless and ancient.
When we are young have no use for information. We make our own mistakes and we think that it is just “different” for us. No one person understands what we are going through and the older people are just nerds in heels. We think that our relationships are “real love” and we would just die if we broke up with that guy we “cared” so deeply for... that whole month. Summer was for breaking up, and Christmas was for exchanging gifts with our girlfriends. Life was so hard, homework sucked and we just couldn’t wait to work.
The ironic thing about this stage in our lives is that we just can’t wait to be older. We can’t wait to turn 19 so we can go to clubs, then we can’t wait to turn 21, because for some reason we cared if we were legal in the States..lol. Then we couldn’t wait to turn 25 because then people would take us serious. But then something happens. We wake up and we are 30 years old. We think back to the days we couldn’t wait to be older. We think back at all the things we wish we would not have done, and we think back at the days when we didn’t want to have a relationship with our parents. Life is funny that way. When we are young, we want to be older, and we age, we think back at when we were younger.
Yesterday, when I saw those young girls I did not wish to be that age again. Although I admit, it was fun. I think there is a time for everything in life. Those teenage years are meant to be the years of foolishness, silliness, and just plain old carelessness. It is our time to practice for our 20’s, our 30’s and yes ladies...our 40’s. We should embrace the immaturity, we should embrace the attitude, and we should embrace the irresponsibility, because before we know it, we will be driving our minivans filled with children reminiscing of our youthful days. Not wanting to go back, but waiting to go forward, to witness our own children’s teenage years. So I say... if practice really does make perfect, than I think we will all get it right at the ripe old age of 99.
That’s my peace today!
Steak Wrap
1 rib eye steak, grilled and sliced thinly into pieces
1/4 cup of Ceasar dressing (I prefer Renne's)
1/2 Boston lettuce shredded
1 tomato cubed
1/2 cup shredded cheddar cheese
1 Avocado cubed
(any grilled veggies you like)
6 10 inch wraps
Salsa (optional)
Lay wraps open. Sprinkle all ingredients evenly. Roll wrap tightly and secure with a toothpick. Place on grill or heated pan, and grill each side for 3 minutes. You can dip in salsa once cooked.
In high school we want so badly to grow up. We want to wear heels, wear make-up, drive around, and stay up late. We think that life gets easier when we get older because we make our own rules. We think we know about life and we think that life is so stressful. All we want to do is get ready for the next party. We think hanging out with our parent’s sucks, and we want nothing to do with them.
This is all part of the journey. It is the part where we know it all and we hate our parents for all their useless rules. I was thinking back at those moments in my life. I had a great time growing up. I had great friends and I thought I was at the peak of life. I thought that life was very serious, and that it would not get harder than that. I remember thinking women in their 20’s were “older” girls and women in their 30’s..Well they were useless and ancient.
When we are young have no use for information. We make our own mistakes and we think that it is just “different” for us. No one person understands what we are going through and the older people are just nerds in heels. We think that our relationships are “real love” and we would just die if we broke up with that guy we “cared” so deeply for... that whole month. Summer was for breaking up, and Christmas was for exchanging gifts with our girlfriends. Life was so hard, homework sucked and we just couldn’t wait to work.
The ironic thing about this stage in our lives is that we just can’t wait to be older. We can’t wait to turn 19 so we can go to clubs, then we can’t wait to turn 21, because for some reason we cared if we were legal in the States..lol. Then we couldn’t wait to turn 25 because then people would take us serious. But then something happens. We wake up and we are 30 years old. We think back to the days we couldn’t wait to be older. We think back at all the things we wish we would not have done, and we think back at the days when we didn’t want to have a relationship with our parents. Life is funny that way. When we are young, we want to be older, and we age, we think back at when we were younger.
Yesterday, when I saw those young girls I did not wish to be that age again. Although I admit, it was fun. I think there is a time for everything in life. Those teenage years are meant to be the years of foolishness, silliness, and just plain old carelessness. It is our time to practice for our 20’s, our 30’s and yes ladies...our 40’s. We should embrace the immaturity, we should embrace the attitude, and we should embrace the irresponsibility, because before we know it, we will be driving our minivans filled with children reminiscing of our youthful days. Not wanting to go back, but waiting to go forward, to witness our own children’s teenage years. So I say... if practice really does make perfect, than I think we will all get it right at the ripe old age of 99.
That’s my peace today!
Steak Wrap
1 rib eye steak, grilled and sliced thinly into pieces
1/4 cup of Ceasar dressing (I prefer Renne's)
1/2 Boston lettuce shredded
1 tomato cubed
1/2 cup shredded cheddar cheese
1 Avocado cubed
(any grilled veggies you like)
6 10 inch wraps
Salsa (optional)
Lay wraps open. Sprinkle all ingredients evenly. Roll wrap tightly and secure with a toothpick. Place on grill or heated pan, and grill each side for 3 minutes. You can dip in salsa once cooked.
Monday, September 13, 2010
My mother is a woman and she had cancer.
I was just reading a few of my friend’s status’ on face book, and I noticed a few of them wrote about the wonderful thing they did yesterday. They walked. They didn’t just walk for a stroll, they walked for a purpose. They walked for Cancer.
This is a yearly event in the city. Hundreds of people gather together in 1 place to begin a walk to raise money for cancer research. Cancer. What a horrible word. Half the time I cannot even say it because it gives me the creeps. It is a word nobody ever wants to hear in a doctors’ office, and it is a word no one person ever wants to repeat to another person.
It is said that by the time you reach a certain age in your life, you or someone you know will be diagnosed with the disease. Cancer affected my life when I was 10 years old. I was in Grade 5 and loving life. I just found out the boy I had a crush on, was having a birthday party. I was so excited to go to his party so I ran home to ask for my mother’s permission to attend the party. She was at home frying some peppers. I ran up to her (this is something I will never in my life forget) and I excitedly said, “Ma, Sam is having a party..Can I go?” much to my very surprise she answered me, “No, I’m sorry you can’t.” Shocked! I was shocked. How could she be doing this to me? Everyone was going..How could I be the only 1 not attending the party? She went on to explain to me that she was going to be in the hospital and that my father would not be able to take care of things, including me attending a party at the same time. “How unfair!” is what I shouted and ran out of the room.
I didn’t know it, but at the time, my mother just found out she had Thyroid cancer. She was scheduled to remove the tumour and her thyroid, that same week. She opted not to tell her 4 children, I guess it was her way of protecting us, so we had no idea why she was going in for surgery.
I remember the day I went to visit her in the hospital, it was surreal. I couldn’t look at my mother with tubes in her throat and needles poking in her arms. It is something nobody should ever have to go through or witness. My mother had 4 children who needed her, she was more worried for us, than for herself, not because she was scared of dying, but more because she was scared that we would grow up without a mother.
My sisters understood a little more than me and my younger sister did. Nancy was 17 and Ann-Marie was 13. My father was just in a daze, probably trying to figure out what he was going to do if anything happened to my mother. I can only imagine the stress her sickness put on the entire family. She explains to me now how she felt the moment the doctor said the words no one ever wants to hear, “You have cancer.” Her world changed from that moment on. You feel a sense of invincible just go away; you are now human because the doctor just proved it to you.
My mother is a survivor. She has been 26 years and counting, in remission. It is something she will never forget; it is a part of her history in life. She is thankful every morning when she takes her thyroid pill that she was saved. She is thankful that she was able to experience and witness all the things a mother should see.
This past weekend, I want to commend all the people that walked to help beat Cancer. I want to commend you for your strength, your commitment and your dedication. It is people like you that make this world a better place; it is people like you that helped save my mother and so many other mothers. You walked to help raise money for women’s cancer. My mother is a woman and she had cancer.
That’s my peace today!
This is dedicated to all the women who are fighting the battle, who have lost the battle, and who are winning the battle!
Gnocci
6 potatoes
2 cups or so of flour
1 egg
chopped parsley and basil
a fork
Peel and boil potatoes. Salt the water. remove and mash. Add egg, and a little at a time add the flour. You may have to add a little more or a little less than 2 cups. Once you feel the dough is not too sticky, you have added enough. Add in chopped herbs and knead together. Take about a handful of dough, roll it out into the size of a thick rope, repeat until you are done the dough. With a knife, cut into 2 cent pieces. Put a fork facing down, take a piece of the dough and roll until you make a rolled gnocci. Lay out on a flour surface so it does not stick. Add to boiling water and cook about 20 minutes. (Until no longer doughy). Add whatever sauce you like.
This is a yearly event in the city. Hundreds of people gather together in 1 place to begin a walk to raise money for cancer research. Cancer. What a horrible word. Half the time I cannot even say it because it gives me the creeps. It is a word nobody ever wants to hear in a doctors’ office, and it is a word no one person ever wants to repeat to another person.
It is said that by the time you reach a certain age in your life, you or someone you know will be diagnosed with the disease. Cancer affected my life when I was 10 years old. I was in Grade 5 and loving life. I just found out the boy I had a crush on, was having a birthday party. I was so excited to go to his party so I ran home to ask for my mother’s permission to attend the party. She was at home frying some peppers. I ran up to her (this is something I will never in my life forget) and I excitedly said, “Ma, Sam is having a party..Can I go?” much to my very surprise she answered me, “No, I’m sorry you can’t.” Shocked! I was shocked. How could she be doing this to me? Everyone was going..How could I be the only 1 not attending the party? She went on to explain to me that she was going to be in the hospital and that my father would not be able to take care of things, including me attending a party at the same time. “How unfair!” is what I shouted and ran out of the room.
I didn’t know it, but at the time, my mother just found out she had Thyroid cancer. She was scheduled to remove the tumour and her thyroid, that same week. She opted not to tell her 4 children, I guess it was her way of protecting us, so we had no idea why she was going in for surgery.
I remember the day I went to visit her in the hospital, it was surreal. I couldn’t look at my mother with tubes in her throat and needles poking in her arms. It is something nobody should ever have to go through or witness. My mother had 4 children who needed her, she was more worried for us, than for herself, not because she was scared of dying, but more because she was scared that we would grow up without a mother.
My sisters understood a little more than me and my younger sister did. Nancy was 17 and Ann-Marie was 13. My father was just in a daze, probably trying to figure out what he was going to do if anything happened to my mother. I can only imagine the stress her sickness put on the entire family. She explains to me now how she felt the moment the doctor said the words no one ever wants to hear, “You have cancer.” Her world changed from that moment on. You feel a sense of invincible just go away; you are now human because the doctor just proved it to you.
My mother is a survivor. She has been 26 years and counting, in remission. It is something she will never forget; it is a part of her history in life. She is thankful every morning when she takes her thyroid pill that she was saved. She is thankful that she was able to experience and witness all the things a mother should see.
This past weekend, I want to commend all the people that walked to help beat Cancer. I want to commend you for your strength, your commitment and your dedication. It is people like you that make this world a better place; it is people like you that helped save my mother and so many other mothers. You walked to help raise money for women’s cancer. My mother is a woman and she had cancer.
That’s my peace today!
This is dedicated to all the women who are fighting the battle, who have lost the battle, and who are winning the battle!
Gnocci
6 potatoes
2 cups or so of flour
1 egg
chopped parsley and basil
a fork
Peel and boil potatoes. Salt the water. remove and mash. Add egg, and a little at a time add the flour. You may have to add a little more or a little less than 2 cups. Once you feel the dough is not too sticky, you have added enough. Add in chopped herbs and knead together. Take about a handful of dough, roll it out into the size of a thick rope, repeat until you are done the dough. With a knife, cut into 2 cent pieces. Put a fork facing down, take a piece of the dough and roll until you make a rolled gnocci. Lay out on a flour surface so it does not stick. Add to boiling water and cook about 20 minutes. (Until no longer doughy). Add whatever sauce you like.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Daddy's little girls
There is a reason why we use the phrase Daddy’s little girl. A father is the first man you love in life. He is the man that protects you, consoles you and just downright spoils you. Since I grew up with 3 sisters, my father was able to love each and every one of us in a special way. He made us feel as important as the next.
This past summer my father went through some serious medical concerns. There was a period of a week or so that my sisters and I did not know how things were going to turn out. At the moment my mother told us that our father was not well and that there may be some bad news, I immediately panicked. My whole childhood raced through my mind. I constantly stated that I was too young for my father to not be well; I could not accept that things may not turn out the way we wanted them to.
My father is a very proud person. He is the kind of man that never complained about pain, or feeling tired, and to my memory, he never had a “man cold”. He just carried on life the way it should be lived. When you are used to your father only showing strength, than for a small second you cannot imagine your father showing anything else.
Thankfully, everything worked out well for him and he is going to be fine. I know I should prepare myself in life for the not so nice things that happen to us as we age, but I felt like a small child who did not want to “play” that game. My sister would tell me that we have to accept the fact that our parents are aging and that they will not always be what they once were. To me, those words were devasting. How could she be saying that my father is getting old? My father is not getting old, he is just growing up.
When a daughter thinks about her father, she only thinks of the man that guided her in life. The man that taught her how to ride a bike; the man who lectured her when she did not come home on time; the man who purposely judged any young boy his daughter brought home; the man that walked her down the aisle; and the man that told her no man was ever worth crying over. This is the man that we look up to. This is the man that we have the up most respect for. This is the man that we would start a fight with our spouse over, if he ever criticised his methods of doing things.
A father is someone who stays silent in the sidelines. He is someone who secretly tells your mother that boy is not good enough for you, and he is someone that teaches you that you should always have enough gas to take you home. That man is my father. He is the man that I always respected and (most of the time) I took his loving advice. He is the man that walked me down the aisle; that danced at my wedding with me, and he is the man that taught me how to charge the battery of my car if I accidently left the lights on.
This summer my father gave us all a scare. A part of me was not ready to accept anything but good news, but a part of me was also preparing for the worst. I know that one day we all have to lose our parents, but at this point in my life, I refuse to be ready for that. He still has a lot to do in this lifetime with his 4 daughters and his 7 grandkids. He will still have to be annoyed when we all show up unannounced wanted to be fed, for a lot longer, because we are not ready to be without our father. We are not ready to be “adults” just yet.
We still love the fact that he is around (opinion and all..lol), and we are still loving the fact that he brings us a coffee on Saturday mornings, but most of all we are still loving the fact that we are daddy’s little girls.
That’s my peace today!
this is my father's favourite!
Fried Potatoes and Peppers
7-8 yukon gold potatoes
2 cubanelle peppers thickly sliced
oil for frying
salt
Cut potatoes in half and then slice each half into thin "wedge" like pieces. In a pan, heat oil and place potatoes and peppers. Fry for about 15 min on each side (until crispy). Salt and remove into plate lined with paper towel to remove any excess oil.
This past summer my father went through some serious medical concerns. There was a period of a week or so that my sisters and I did not know how things were going to turn out. At the moment my mother told us that our father was not well and that there may be some bad news, I immediately panicked. My whole childhood raced through my mind. I constantly stated that I was too young for my father to not be well; I could not accept that things may not turn out the way we wanted them to.
My father is a very proud person. He is the kind of man that never complained about pain, or feeling tired, and to my memory, he never had a “man cold”. He just carried on life the way it should be lived. When you are used to your father only showing strength, than for a small second you cannot imagine your father showing anything else.
Thankfully, everything worked out well for him and he is going to be fine. I know I should prepare myself in life for the not so nice things that happen to us as we age, but I felt like a small child who did not want to “play” that game. My sister would tell me that we have to accept the fact that our parents are aging and that they will not always be what they once were. To me, those words were devasting. How could she be saying that my father is getting old? My father is not getting old, he is just growing up.
When a daughter thinks about her father, she only thinks of the man that guided her in life. The man that taught her how to ride a bike; the man who lectured her when she did not come home on time; the man who purposely judged any young boy his daughter brought home; the man that walked her down the aisle; and the man that told her no man was ever worth crying over. This is the man that we look up to. This is the man that we have the up most respect for. This is the man that we would start a fight with our spouse over, if he ever criticised his methods of doing things.
A father is someone who stays silent in the sidelines. He is someone who secretly tells your mother that boy is not good enough for you, and he is someone that teaches you that you should always have enough gas to take you home. That man is my father. He is the man that I always respected and (most of the time) I took his loving advice. He is the man that walked me down the aisle; that danced at my wedding with me, and he is the man that taught me how to charge the battery of my car if I accidently left the lights on.
This summer my father gave us all a scare. A part of me was not ready to accept anything but good news, but a part of me was also preparing for the worst. I know that one day we all have to lose our parents, but at this point in my life, I refuse to be ready for that. He still has a lot to do in this lifetime with his 4 daughters and his 7 grandkids. He will still have to be annoyed when we all show up unannounced wanted to be fed, for a lot longer, because we are not ready to be without our father. We are not ready to be “adults” just yet.
We still love the fact that he is around (opinion and all..lol), and we are still loving the fact that he brings us a coffee on Saturday mornings, but most of all we are still loving the fact that we are daddy’s little girls.
That’s my peace today!
this is my father's favourite!
Fried Potatoes and Peppers
7-8 yukon gold potatoes
2 cubanelle peppers thickly sliced
oil for frying
salt
Cut potatoes in half and then slice each half into thin "wedge" like pieces. In a pan, heat oil and place potatoes and peppers. Fry for about 15 min on each side (until crispy). Salt and remove into plate lined with paper towel to remove any excess oil.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
"I'm not perfect, but I keep trying because that's what I said I would do from the start"
I was listening to the song from Hedley and although I love that song, and although the song is about 2 lovers, I felt the words just stuck to me because I related it to my life everyday as a mother.
This past month my husband and I ventured sans les kids to Niagara for 2 nights. Some may have thought it would be almost impossible to do since I have so many darn kids and that I would not be able to pay people large amounts of money to leave my kids with them. But I was lucky that my mother and mother in law agreed to stay (free of charge..lol) with the little rugrats, so we were able to go. It was a very late 10 year Anniversary get away (which we celebrated last October)lol. So we left the kids and had 2 nights of adults only. I have to say, it was nice.
I love being with my kids (when they sleep) lol, no but seriously, I think getting a break from them sometimes is great. It does not happen very often for us, but when it does I really appreciate it. Life can be very hectic, you wonder where the time goes, and sometimes, you wish for the days to come to an end just so you can go to sleep. Being a parent is a very hard job, and I don’t care if you have1 kid or if you have 6 kids, when you are a parent, your mind does not belong to you anymore, it belongs to the little people you brought into this world. Sometimes as a couple you get so enthralled in your kids lives that you forget about the life you have together as a couple.
I hear it all the time from couples that have older kids, “Oh you will see when the kids grow up you will have more time together as a couple.” How about if I don’t want to wait until then? How about if I want to have time with my husband now? Does that make me a bad person? Does it make me a bad mother? Is it so wrong to admit that sometimes you just want to crawl under a rock and tell your kids “no hablo anglais?” We are young now. Just because we are raising kids it does not mean we have to lose our identity of who we were before them. We are not bad parents if we admit to people that we like our kids to go to bed early so we can have some downtime. We are not bad people if we want to go watch a movie once in a while with our mates. We are not bad people if we enjoy the occasional “girls night”. That is what life is all about. We are people before we are parents.
I remember my sister told me once that is was ok to want to do something selfish for myself. I thought she was nuts because she did not have kids yet, and I just assumed she did not understand. I thought to myself, “am I a bad mother if I openly say that I enjoy wanting a spa weekend or a night out with some friends. She said to me, “you are a woman before you are a mother.” A t the time it did not register. At the time I thought she was being a feminist, and at the time I never would have agreed. I have grown since then, I do realize that in order for me to be a happy mother, I need to be a happy person first.
Our children do not make us who we are, they just compliment our lives. We should not describe ourselves as mothers, but instead as women that have children. When you are a parent, there is no greater person in the world, there is no greater love in the world, and there is no stronger emotion in the world than that you feel for your child. But that does not mean we should feel guilty for admitting we want a break. It does not mean that sometimes we want to change our name to daddy..lol..and it does not mean that we would not give up our life for them. All it means is that from the day we had our children we had an instant bond, an instant love, and an instant connection. It means that we will do anything for them at any time of the day. I say it all the time; my father will still leave his home at midnight if I needed something. But that does not mean he does not deserve time alone. It does not mean he does not deserve time with my mother. It just means he will do what he can for me when I need something.
I know it will get easier and before I know it, they will be preparing for University and I will look back and wonder where all the time has gone. I know that life flies faster than we ever thought it would, and I know I have to enjoy them every day of their tiny lives.
There is not one day that I do not thank God for my children, but there is also not 1 day that I don’t feel like pulling a Thelma and Louise..lol. But I say, that is what life is all about. It is about learning every step of the way. It is about listening to other people’s advice when you think they may be right. It is about finding out the hard way sometimes that our kids really do hate us when they are teenagers.
I don’t know how I will be when I am 50 years old. I can only try to be the person I am now at 25..lol..(ok add 10 to that)..lol. I am trying everyday to be a good mother; I am trying everyday to be a good role model to my kids. I am trying everyday to be a woman before being a mother. I am trying to keep the silent I promise I made to myself when I became a mother; to be the best I can be. And I know I can only do that one day at a time, one step at a time, 1 breath at a time and I now know that I am not perfect, but I keep trying, because that’s what I said I would do from the start.
That’s my peace today!
Rapini and White Bean Panini
1 bunch rapini, washed cut into 2 inch pieces
2 cloves crushed garlic
2 cups white beans
1/4 cup olive oil
4 large buns
salt to taste
Boil rapini for 4 minutes, salt water.Drain and cool. Strain out water once cooled and menawhile add oil and garlioc to a heated pan. Add rapini and beans. Mix and almost mash the 2 together.Add salt. Remove from stove, cut the panini in half and open like a book. Add rapini and beans. (If you have a panini press you can heat the bread once stuffed.)
This past month my husband and I ventured sans les kids to Niagara for 2 nights. Some may have thought it would be almost impossible to do since I have so many darn kids and that I would not be able to pay people large amounts of money to leave my kids with them. But I was lucky that my mother and mother in law agreed to stay (free of charge..lol) with the little rugrats, so we were able to go. It was a very late 10 year Anniversary get away (which we celebrated last October)lol. So we left the kids and had 2 nights of adults only. I have to say, it was nice.
I love being with my kids (when they sleep) lol, no but seriously, I think getting a break from them sometimes is great. It does not happen very often for us, but when it does I really appreciate it. Life can be very hectic, you wonder where the time goes, and sometimes, you wish for the days to come to an end just so you can go to sleep. Being a parent is a very hard job, and I don’t care if you have1 kid or if you have 6 kids, when you are a parent, your mind does not belong to you anymore, it belongs to the little people you brought into this world. Sometimes as a couple you get so enthralled in your kids lives that you forget about the life you have together as a couple.
I hear it all the time from couples that have older kids, “Oh you will see when the kids grow up you will have more time together as a couple.” How about if I don’t want to wait until then? How about if I want to have time with my husband now? Does that make me a bad person? Does it make me a bad mother? Is it so wrong to admit that sometimes you just want to crawl under a rock and tell your kids “no hablo anglais?” We are young now. Just because we are raising kids it does not mean we have to lose our identity of who we were before them. We are not bad parents if we admit to people that we like our kids to go to bed early so we can have some downtime. We are not bad people if we want to go watch a movie once in a while with our mates. We are not bad people if we enjoy the occasional “girls night”. That is what life is all about. We are people before we are parents.
I remember my sister told me once that is was ok to want to do something selfish for myself. I thought she was nuts because she did not have kids yet, and I just assumed she did not understand. I thought to myself, “am I a bad mother if I openly say that I enjoy wanting a spa weekend or a night out with some friends. She said to me, “you are a woman before you are a mother.” A t the time it did not register. At the time I thought she was being a feminist, and at the time I never would have agreed. I have grown since then, I do realize that in order for me to be a happy mother, I need to be a happy person first.
Our children do not make us who we are, they just compliment our lives. We should not describe ourselves as mothers, but instead as women that have children. When you are a parent, there is no greater person in the world, there is no greater love in the world, and there is no stronger emotion in the world than that you feel for your child. But that does not mean we should feel guilty for admitting we want a break. It does not mean that sometimes we want to change our name to daddy..lol..and it does not mean that we would not give up our life for them. All it means is that from the day we had our children we had an instant bond, an instant love, and an instant connection. It means that we will do anything for them at any time of the day. I say it all the time; my father will still leave his home at midnight if I needed something. But that does not mean he does not deserve time alone. It does not mean he does not deserve time with my mother. It just means he will do what he can for me when I need something.
I know it will get easier and before I know it, they will be preparing for University and I will look back and wonder where all the time has gone. I know that life flies faster than we ever thought it would, and I know I have to enjoy them every day of their tiny lives.
There is not one day that I do not thank God for my children, but there is also not 1 day that I don’t feel like pulling a Thelma and Louise..lol. But I say, that is what life is all about. It is about learning every step of the way. It is about listening to other people’s advice when you think they may be right. It is about finding out the hard way sometimes that our kids really do hate us when they are teenagers.
I don’t know how I will be when I am 50 years old. I can only try to be the person I am now at 25..lol..(ok add 10 to that)..lol. I am trying everyday to be a good mother; I am trying everyday to be a good role model to my kids. I am trying everyday to be a woman before being a mother. I am trying to keep the silent I promise I made to myself when I became a mother; to be the best I can be. And I know I can only do that one day at a time, one step at a time, 1 breath at a time and I now know that I am not perfect, but I keep trying, because that’s what I said I would do from the start.
That’s my peace today!
Rapini and White Bean Panini
1 bunch rapini, washed cut into 2 inch pieces
2 cloves crushed garlic
2 cups white beans
1/4 cup olive oil
4 large buns
salt to taste
Boil rapini for 4 minutes, salt water.Drain and cool. Strain out water once cooled and menawhile add oil and garlioc to a heated pan. Add rapini and beans. Mix and almost mash the 2 together.Add salt. Remove from stove, cut the panini in half and open like a book. Add rapini and beans. (If you have a panini press you can heat the bread once stuffed.)
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Summer 2010
Well another summer is almost over and in 2 weeks our kids will be going back to school. They will be going back to homework, lunches and early morning wake up calls. Their vacation will be over and they will be stuck in a building for 6 and half hours a day. They will be in a classroom learning the dos and don’ts of life, and how to multiply without using a calculator.
Summer is a great time of year. The weather is awesome and the traffic is light. Everyone always seems to be in a better mood, and barbeques are a weekly event. It is the time of year when we all try to reunite with family to share a few laughs over a bonfire pit to tell stories. Our kids have over2 months to unwind and distress from the past year in school.
My son will be starting Grade 4 and my daughter will be starting Grade 1. I just sit back and try to remember where the days have gone? We are always in such a rush to get things moving along. We are always in such a rush for the days to come to an end and for the next day to begin, that we forget that they are flying faster than we can think. My son is going into the junior part of elementary. He is entering the stage where it will not be cool to get a hug from me, and I don’t know if I am quite ready for that yet.
It seems like kids just change over the summertime. I remember when I was growing up, the boys would leave grade 6 and would start grade 7 in full grown moustaches and beards..lol. Or the girls that left with flat chests came back wearing a size B bra and full hips. It’s like the summer was their time to grow in peace, with no interruptions. The days off at home gives our kids time to reflect and grow into who they need to become. It is a time where they will figure out that mosquitoes come out after 9pm, and it is a time where they will learn that standing too close to the fire pit will burn a small hole in their new t-shirt.
This summer has been wonderful. My kids laughed, my kids played and my kids grew as people. They have made memories that I will only hear about when they themselves are parents. They have also made memories that I will not forget. Like 2 weeks ago when Joseph accidentally stepped on a wasp’s nest and allowed dozens of angry wasps to sting him 5 times, his sister once and his 2 cousins on their little bodies. Or this past week when he screamed for me to run upstairs because my twins grabbed a tub of Vaseline and decided to cover themselves head to toe in this impossible to remove petroleum jelly, which happened to be on the same day as my niece’s baptism. Or the time when my daughter decided that it was ok to use a full bottle of shampoo on her babies’ hair and created more bubbles than a tacky wedding video from the 90’s, or a month ago when my twins decided to create their first masterpiece of scribbles with pen on my freshly painted walls, and just 2 nights ago when my older two abruptly woke me up to tell me they had to vomit, and made it just in time to the washroom. These are the days that will be missed and cherished. These are the days that we will remember. We forget that they probably made us cry at the time. We forget that it probably made us scream at the time, and we forget that at these moments our language may have been considered R rated by child protection services. We forget these things because what sticks in our minds is how hard we laughed about it after.
Soon the school doors will open, and the recess bells will ring. The knapsacks will be filled with books and the mornings will be loud and chaotic. The kids will roll their eyes when they sneak a peek at their lunch, and they will whine and complain when the lights go down at night.
The summer will soon be a distant memory for them and they will pick up at school to begin a new year of friends, a new year of fun, and a new year of memories. I just feel grateful that I was a part of their memories from the summer of 2010.
That’s my peace today!
Fresh Tomato and Basil Sauce
This is perfect for these summer days because the tomatoes are fresh in your local farms
6 large tomatoes chopped in large pieces
2 cloves crushed garlic
4 large bunches of chopped basil
1/4 c olive oil
2 tbsp pitted black Italian olives
1 tsp oregano (dry or fresh)
salt to taste
In a deep stainless steal pan, pour oil, add garlic and heat. Add chopped tomatoes, sprinle salt and oregano. Cook for 10 minutes on medium heat. Add olives and basil. Cook for another 2 minutes. Remove from heat and pour sirectly on cooked pasta.
Summer is a great time of year. The weather is awesome and the traffic is light. Everyone always seems to be in a better mood, and barbeques are a weekly event. It is the time of year when we all try to reunite with family to share a few laughs over a bonfire pit to tell stories. Our kids have over2 months to unwind and distress from the past year in school.
My son will be starting Grade 4 and my daughter will be starting Grade 1. I just sit back and try to remember where the days have gone? We are always in such a rush to get things moving along. We are always in such a rush for the days to come to an end and for the next day to begin, that we forget that they are flying faster than we can think. My son is going into the junior part of elementary. He is entering the stage where it will not be cool to get a hug from me, and I don’t know if I am quite ready for that yet.
It seems like kids just change over the summertime. I remember when I was growing up, the boys would leave grade 6 and would start grade 7 in full grown moustaches and beards..lol. Or the girls that left with flat chests came back wearing a size B bra and full hips. It’s like the summer was their time to grow in peace, with no interruptions. The days off at home gives our kids time to reflect and grow into who they need to become. It is a time where they will figure out that mosquitoes come out after 9pm, and it is a time where they will learn that standing too close to the fire pit will burn a small hole in their new t-shirt.
This summer has been wonderful. My kids laughed, my kids played and my kids grew as people. They have made memories that I will only hear about when they themselves are parents. They have also made memories that I will not forget. Like 2 weeks ago when Joseph accidentally stepped on a wasp’s nest and allowed dozens of angry wasps to sting him 5 times, his sister once and his 2 cousins on their little bodies. Or this past week when he screamed for me to run upstairs because my twins grabbed a tub of Vaseline and decided to cover themselves head to toe in this impossible to remove petroleum jelly, which happened to be on the same day as my niece’s baptism. Or the time when my daughter decided that it was ok to use a full bottle of shampoo on her babies’ hair and created more bubbles than a tacky wedding video from the 90’s, or a month ago when my twins decided to create their first masterpiece of scribbles with pen on my freshly painted walls, and just 2 nights ago when my older two abruptly woke me up to tell me they had to vomit, and made it just in time to the washroom. These are the days that will be missed and cherished. These are the days that we will remember. We forget that they probably made us cry at the time. We forget that it probably made us scream at the time, and we forget that at these moments our language may have been considered R rated by child protection services. We forget these things because what sticks in our minds is how hard we laughed about it after.
Soon the school doors will open, and the recess bells will ring. The knapsacks will be filled with books and the mornings will be loud and chaotic. The kids will roll their eyes when they sneak a peek at their lunch, and they will whine and complain when the lights go down at night.
The summer will soon be a distant memory for them and they will pick up at school to begin a new year of friends, a new year of fun, and a new year of memories. I just feel grateful that I was a part of their memories from the summer of 2010.
That’s my peace today!
Fresh Tomato and Basil Sauce
This is perfect for these summer days because the tomatoes are fresh in your local farms
6 large tomatoes chopped in large pieces
2 cloves crushed garlic
4 large bunches of chopped basil
1/4 c olive oil
2 tbsp pitted black Italian olives
1 tsp oregano (dry or fresh)
salt to taste
In a deep stainless steal pan, pour oil, add garlic and heat. Add chopped tomatoes, sprinle salt and oregano. Cook for 10 minutes on medium heat. Add olives and basil. Cook for another 2 minutes. Remove from heat and pour sirectly on cooked pasta.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
The Beautiful Game
July 11, 1982, I was 8 years old (ok you can do the math now..lol)and it was a hot summer day. For some people, it meant school came to an end, and it was time for summer vacation. But for Italians, it meant a lot more than a “usual” summer day. Italy won the World Cup. Paulo Rossi was the hero and Italy beat Germany 3-1 that day.
Every 4 years in soccer, the World Cup is watched and followed. It is a time where all people come together and cheer on “their” team. Flags come out, and so does patriotism. It seems like everyone and anyone has passion for a sport they usually do not follow for 4 years. Kids that are second generation, third generation, and sometimes fourth generation Italian are “Italian” or “Brazilian” or British” for 4 weeks. It is an amazing and wonderful show of passion for their heritage.
After Italy won the cup back in 1982, I remember my father went nuts. In fact, all my family did. We set off our house alarm to make some noise, and then we packed up the familia and headed off to St.Clair. We celebrated with all the other Italians, and I remember like it was yesterday, it was just amazing. 4 years ago, my own children were able to experience the same thing I did, when I was a kid. Celebrating with all other “Italian” kids, waving the green, white and red flag in the air for all to see and celebrate.
Everyone is proud of whom they are and where they “came” from, but for me being Italian is something that I just am. I was raised in an Italian home, by Italian parents, in an Italian neighbourhood. My sandwiches were called sangwiches and bologna to me was a city in Italy. My parents were first generation Italians and like many other families I knew, they followed many of the traditions. Sauce in the summer, sausages in the winter and wine in the cantina..lol. Eating is very important and it is taken very seriously. It is an absolute insult to refuse anything at an aunts’ house, and espresso is a common beverage for children under 6.
As time passes, so have some of the traditions. Fast food is now not a luxury but a necessity on nights that we just don’t have time. Most people no longer make the sauce; they just buy it at Fortino’s because it is the “same” thing. Wine is purchased at the LCBO, and visiting an aunt is done maybe once a year, in a rush.
My grandparents came to this country to have a better life for their kids. They had a dream and a luggage..lol..no but seriously, they wanted more than what they had in the old country. They brought their traditions, and passed it on to their kids. My parents did the same to me, and I am trying to do the same to my own children.
On Friday, soccer is alive again. I see the flags already on the cars. The jerseys are worn, and the caps are being sported. It is the time for all to gather and share a few laughs, a few groans, and tons of cheers. The bars will be packed, the TVs will be on, and the world will be watching. Many Canadians will be what they were raised to be; Proud to be of Brazilian blood, German roots, or French background. They will be glued to the screen for the love of their country, the love of the game and the love of the traditions.
It is labelled the “beautiful” game, and now that I am older I can really appreciate why...it’s the shorts..lol. It is exciting and passionate, and only in this country can so many people have the freedom to root, to cheer and to be loud and clear of whom they want to win. Just for 1 month, every 4 years, Canadians put away the red and white Maple leaf and replace it with whatever flag reminds them of who they are and where they came from...and that’s what makes it the “Beautiful Game.”
That’s me peace today!
Cherry Tomato Salad
2 packages tomatoes
1 clove garlic sliced thin
4 bunches basil chopped large
1/4 thinly sliced red onion
1/4 cup olive oil
salt
dried oregano
1/4 cup black olives with pit (wrinkly ones)
Cut up tomatoes and put in a large bowl. Add basil, garlic and onion. Pour oil, salt and oregano. Mix and top with olives.
Every 4 years in soccer, the World Cup is watched and followed. It is a time where all people come together and cheer on “their” team. Flags come out, and so does patriotism. It seems like everyone and anyone has passion for a sport they usually do not follow for 4 years. Kids that are second generation, third generation, and sometimes fourth generation Italian are “Italian” or “Brazilian” or British” for 4 weeks. It is an amazing and wonderful show of passion for their heritage.
After Italy won the cup back in 1982, I remember my father went nuts. In fact, all my family did. We set off our house alarm to make some noise, and then we packed up the familia and headed off to St.Clair. We celebrated with all the other Italians, and I remember like it was yesterday, it was just amazing. 4 years ago, my own children were able to experience the same thing I did, when I was a kid. Celebrating with all other “Italian” kids, waving the green, white and red flag in the air for all to see and celebrate.
Everyone is proud of whom they are and where they “came” from, but for me being Italian is something that I just am. I was raised in an Italian home, by Italian parents, in an Italian neighbourhood. My sandwiches were called sangwiches and bologna to me was a city in Italy. My parents were first generation Italians and like many other families I knew, they followed many of the traditions. Sauce in the summer, sausages in the winter and wine in the cantina..lol. Eating is very important and it is taken very seriously. It is an absolute insult to refuse anything at an aunts’ house, and espresso is a common beverage for children under 6.
As time passes, so have some of the traditions. Fast food is now not a luxury but a necessity on nights that we just don’t have time. Most people no longer make the sauce; they just buy it at Fortino’s because it is the “same” thing. Wine is purchased at the LCBO, and visiting an aunt is done maybe once a year, in a rush.
My grandparents came to this country to have a better life for their kids. They had a dream and a luggage..lol..no but seriously, they wanted more than what they had in the old country. They brought their traditions, and passed it on to their kids. My parents did the same to me, and I am trying to do the same to my own children.
On Friday, soccer is alive again. I see the flags already on the cars. The jerseys are worn, and the caps are being sported. It is the time for all to gather and share a few laughs, a few groans, and tons of cheers. The bars will be packed, the TVs will be on, and the world will be watching. Many Canadians will be what they were raised to be; Proud to be of Brazilian blood, German roots, or French background. They will be glued to the screen for the love of their country, the love of the game and the love of the traditions.
It is labelled the “beautiful” game, and now that I am older I can really appreciate why...it’s the shorts..lol. It is exciting and passionate, and only in this country can so many people have the freedom to root, to cheer and to be loud and clear of whom they want to win. Just for 1 month, every 4 years, Canadians put away the red and white Maple leaf and replace it with whatever flag reminds them of who they are and where they came from...and that’s what makes it the “Beautiful Game.”
That’s me peace today!
Cherry Tomato Salad
2 packages tomatoes
1 clove garlic sliced thin
4 bunches basil chopped large
1/4 thinly sliced red onion
1/4 cup olive oil
salt
dried oregano
1/4 cup black olives with pit (wrinkly ones)
Cut up tomatoes and put in a large bowl. Add basil, garlic and onion. Pour oil, salt and oregano. Mix and top with olives.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Every frikkin, frakkin minute of it!
In the daytime I went to a birthday party for my son’s friend. It was a long day, lots of kids, noise and food. I was extremely tired and a little bit annoyed to be with dozens of kids. I was 35 weeks pregnant and telling all the other mothers at the party, I still had at least 3 weeks to go to deliver my twins.
I got home at around 5pm and I was planning to unwind and enjoy the rest of my Sunday evening. Much to my surprise, I realized that I was in pre labour. I began to panic. Although I knew I could have gone early, I was not ready to have my babies. I screamed for my husband, I called the hospital, and just like that, we were on our way to York Central Hospital.
I made some calls; my mother, my sisters, my friends. When I got there, I was greeted with very pleasant nurses, and a gown that I was told to put on. I was given a bed and the process began. The babies heartbeats were being monitored and I was getting prodded and poked. We were not sure if I was in active labour, so we just waited. I was eventually given a bed and I tried to get some sleep.
In the morning my doctor arrived and decided that the babies were ready to enter the world, and the labour began. It was a long day. It had been a long night. I was tired and hungry. The doctor did not allow me to eat in case I had to have a c-section. I just wanted a BigMac.
At 7:00pm, a nurse checked me and reassured my husband I still had a while to go. He felt confident to go home, change and pick up some last minute things. As he was leaving, my friend Brenda decided to pop in and visit. Her visit ended up being one of the most important visits I ever had.
20 minutes after my husband left, I began to feel some pressure. A pressure that I recognized. I mentioned it to the nurse, and low and behold, I was 10 centimetres. “Time to push” is what she said. I began to hyper ventilate. She asked me what was wrong? “My husband is not here! He went home and I do not know when he will be back!” She assured me she would wait as much as she could, but my babies did not want to wait. I had to go into the delivery room. Tears streamed down my face, I looked at Brenda with a helpless look. “Please call him and tell him to get here now!”
The nurse could not wait anymore, she had to bring me in the room. After all these months of waiting for my babies to arrive, my husband was going to miss the delivery. As I was being wheeled in I heard the nurse yelling to the other nurse to call downstairs and allow my husband to stop in front of the hospital doors, just to make it time. She instructed Brenda to wait for him at the L&D doors with the scrubs. Brenda looked mortified. She made all the calls she had too. My mother, my in-laws and my sisters were also on their way.
When I arrived into the room I was greeted with the doctor, and he seemed confused when he saw me in tears. The nurse explained to him my situation and he also reassured me they would wait as long as possible. All the thoughts that were running through my head were just crazy, it felt surreal. Minutes (literally) before I was going to begin pushing I hear a nurse saying, “Look what I found in the hallway.” It was my husband. I cried, laughed and wanted to kill him all at the same time. So the delivery began.
20 minutes later...”It’s a girl” tears of happiness overwhelmed both of us. Since I did not know what we were having, I was happy to know my older daughter now has a sister. Jenna was born with some breathing problems, and the pediatric nurses were working hard to help her to breathe. During all the chaos, I had to push out another baby.I was so worried about Jenna but I had another important job to do. 19 minutes later, my baby Michael was born. WOW. “A boy and a girl” is what I heard everyone saying. I was so happy that I was blessed to add another son and daughter to our family.
My babies were born prematurely and had to be put in an incubator for 2 days, but they were doing great. I was now a mother of multiples. There was a lot to get used to from the beginning,I cried a lot, and I had lots of sleepless nights. But so far, we have made it, and every day can still be challenging, tiring, and overwhelming.
Michael and Jenna have grown into beautiful little rambunctious toddlers. I still cannot believe that they are mine, and that they shared a womb. They have a connection I will never be able to understand, but a connection I appreciate. You never see one without the other closely behind. They run to each other first thing in the morning, and they say goodnight to one another every night before bed.
It has been 2 years today since they were brought into this world and just like the delivery; it is full of surprises, full of suspense, and there are a lot of last minute saves. Thankfully my life with them has exceeded my expectations, and they bring me complete joy.
Happy birthday to my 2 beautiful babies. I don’t know which one of them “snuck” into the womb, and I don’t care, I am just glad they did, because I cannot imagine one without the other. When we went for a third child, we were not expecting two. But when people say to me,"I guess it was a surprise to both of you." I just reply "God sent me the bonus prize." We have our own little frick and frack, and we are loving every frikkin, frakkin, minute of it!
That’s my peace today!
These cupcakes are my kids favourite and perfect for any kids birthday
Vanilla Cupcakes with Cream Cheese Frosting
2 cups of sifted cake and pastry flour
1 cup sugar
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 cup softened butter
1/2 cup milk
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
In large bowl, whisk together flour, sugar, baking powder and salt. Using electric mixer on low speed, mix in butter, milk, eggs and vanilla; beat on high speed until smooth, about 2 minutes.
Spoon into 12 paper-lined or greased muffin cups, filling about three-quarters full. Bake in centre of 375°F oven about 18 minutes. Transfer to rack; let cool completely
Frosting Recipe
1/4 cup cream cheese, softened
1/4 cup butter, softened
1/2 tsp vanilla
1-1/2 cups icing sugar
In bowl, beat cream cheese with butter; beat in vanilla. Beat in sugar in 2 additions until smooth.
I got home at around 5pm and I was planning to unwind and enjoy the rest of my Sunday evening. Much to my surprise, I realized that I was in pre labour. I began to panic. Although I knew I could have gone early, I was not ready to have my babies. I screamed for my husband, I called the hospital, and just like that, we were on our way to York Central Hospital.
I made some calls; my mother, my sisters, my friends. When I got there, I was greeted with very pleasant nurses, and a gown that I was told to put on. I was given a bed and the process began. The babies heartbeats were being monitored and I was getting prodded and poked. We were not sure if I was in active labour, so we just waited. I was eventually given a bed and I tried to get some sleep.
In the morning my doctor arrived and decided that the babies were ready to enter the world, and the labour began. It was a long day. It had been a long night. I was tired and hungry. The doctor did not allow me to eat in case I had to have a c-section. I just wanted a BigMac.
At 7:00pm, a nurse checked me and reassured my husband I still had a while to go. He felt confident to go home, change and pick up some last minute things. As he was leaving, my friend Brenda decided to pop in and visit. Her visit ended up being one of the most important visits I ever had.
20 minutes after my husband left, I began to feel some pressure. A pressure that I recognized. I mentioned it to the nurse, and low and behold, I was 10 centimetres. “Time to push” is what she said. I began to hyper ventilate. She asked me what was wrong? “My husband is not here! He went home and I do not know when he will be back!” She assured me she would wait as much as she could, but my babies did not want to wait. I had to go into the delivery room. Tears streamed down my face, I looked at Brenda with a helpless look. “Please call him and tell him to get here now!”
The nurse could not wait anymore, she had to bring me in the room. After all these months of waiting for my babies to arrive, my husband was going to miss the delivery. As I was being wheeled in I heard the nurse yelling to the other nurse to call downstairs and allow my husband to stop in front of the hospital doors, just to make it time. She instructed Brenda to wait for him at the L&D doors with the scrubs. Brenda looked mortified. She made all the calls she had too. My mother, my in-laws and my sisters were also on their way.
When I arrived into the room I was greeted with the doctor, and he seemed confused when he saw me in tears. The nurse explained to him my situation and he also reassured me they would wait as long as possible. All the thoughts that were running through my head were just crazy, it felt surreal. Minutes (literally) before I was going to begin pushing I hear a nurse saying, “Look what I found in the hallway.” It was my husband. I cried, laughed and wanted to kill him all at the same time. So the delivery began.
20 minutes later...”It’s a girl” tears of happiness overwhelmed both of us. Since I did not know what we were having, I was happy to know my older daughter now has a sister. Jenna was born with some breathing problems, and the pediatric nurses were working hard to help her to breathe. During all the chaos, I had to push out another baby.I was so worried about Jenna but I had another important job to do. 19 minutes later, my baby Michael was born. WOW. “A boy and a girl” is what I heard everyone saying. I was so happy that I was blessed to add another son and daughter to our family.
My babies were born prematurely and had to be put in an incubator for 2 days, but they were doing great. I was now a mother of multiples. There was a lot to get used to from the beginning,I cried a lot, and I had lots of sleepless nights. But so far, we have made it, and every day can still be challenging, tiring, and overwhelming.
Michael and Jenna have grown into beautiful little rambunctious toddlers. I still cannot believe that they are mine, and that they shared a womb. They have a connection I will never be able to understand, but a connection I appreciate. You never see one without the other closely behind. They run to each other first thing in the morning, and they say goodnight to one another every night before bed.
It has been 2 years today since they were brought into this world and just like the delivery; it is full of surprises, full of suspense, and there are a lot of last minute saves. Thankfully my life with them has exceeded my expectations, and they bring me complete joy.
Happy birthday to my 2 beautiful babies. I don’t know which one of them “snuck” into the womb, and I don’t care, I am just glad they did, because I cannot imagine one without the other. When we went for a third child, we were not expecting two. But when people say to me,"I guess it was a surprise to both of you." I just reply "God sent me the bonus prize." We have our own little frick and frack, and we are loving every frikkin, frakkin, minute of it!
That’s my peace today!
These cupcakes are my kids favourite and perfect for any kids birthday
Vanilla Cupcakes with Cream Cheese Frosting
2 cups of sifted cake and pastry flour
1 cup sugar
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 cup softened butter
1/2 cup milk
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
In large bowl, whisk together flour, sugar, baking powder and salt. Using electric mixer on low speed, mix in butter, milk, eggs and vanilla; beat on high speed until smooth, about 2 minutes.
Spoon into 12 paper-lined or greased muffin cups, filling about three-quarters full. Bake in centre of 375°F oven about 18 minutes. Transfer to rack; let cool completely
Frosting Recipe
1/4 cup cream cheese, softened
1/4 cup butter, softened
1/2 tsp vanilla
1-1/2 cups icing sugar
In bowl, beat cream cheese with butter; beat in vanilla. Beat in sugar in 2 additions until smooth.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Where you are, I was; where I am, you hope to be.
It was a very busy weekend. The long weekend is always full of lots and lots of kids. All the activities that go with kids, and all the food that kids love. The first long weekend of the summer is usually the time most people plant their gardens and their flowers. It is patio season openings and cold beer drinking. Well, maybe not so much when you have kids, but I am pretty sure someone was on a patio drinking a cold beer with friends..lol.
Over the weekend we had some friends over; friends with kids. You know what that means? If you don’t know what it means, I will tell you. It means cooking your meal with kids asking you for a glass of this and a cup of that. It means trying to calm kids down from their sugar rush from all the desert, the ice cream and the pop they happen to sneak.
Having a meal is just not the same once you have kids. Using a knife to cut your steak is a luxury because that means you do not have a kid on your lap, or close enough to your plate. Drinking a glass of wine is also something that just “changes.” The wine is the same, but for some reason it just does not go down as smooth as it once did when we were without children. But just the same, we drink it.
The day was fun and almost accident free, until the end of the night when my guests went home and my son was outside trying to get every ounce of sunshine that was left, when I suddenly heard a scream and then a “Oh my God...mommy, mommy, mommy!!!” I ran to see what had happened and I see Joseph holding his nose. Apparantly Joseph’s friend fell on his nose and face, and blood was streaming down his nose and from his lips. “Great”. Thankfully he was ok and all the kids finally had lights out.
The next day it was another “What the heck are we going to do today with the kids?” So I decided to take them to my aunt’s house. When we arrived, we were greeted by my aunt, uncle, and my 2 cousins. We sat and just began to chat. The kids were running around playing with the sprinkler and filling up water balloons, and the rest of us were sitting around the outdoor patio set. My cousin Victoria (who is 20) was chatting about life and what she was planning to do for the night. I just looked at my kids running amuck and I laughed. She then asked me, “Don’t you wish you were 20 again?” and I very quickly said, “NO WAY!” My aunt began to laugh because she “got it”. Victoria was very puzzled. She was curious to know why I would not want to be young again. I then explained to her, “I have been where you are, I do not want to go there again. That means I would have to do the whole “getting my first job” thing, “finishing school thing”, and then the “marriage thing”, “baby thing”, and I would have to start all over again.” I explained to her that I am looking forward to raising my kids, to watch them grow into adults. My aunt said, “Vic, she wishes she was me right now”..lol. and I laughed and I agreed. Victoria was confused because she thought it was weird that I didn’t want to be younger and that I looked forward to being 50. Anyone with kids gets it.
We don’t want to fast forward their little lives. We want to enjoy every God given day with them, but we definitely do not want to go backwards. We look forward to celebrating their graduation day with them. We look forward to celebrating their wedding day with them, and we look forward to celebrating the birth of their own children.
I do not look at these young girls that I see and wish I was them. Ok I admit, I miss having the little legs, and butt they have, but I do not want to be there again. I am happy with the days I am living. I am happy with the experiences I have gained along the way. I wish I knew then what I know now, because that’s the funny thing about being young; life does get better. Life changes and you learn to appreciate all the things you may have thought were boring 10 years before.
While we were sitting outside yesterday my cousin still didn’t get it. She thought that I should be envious of her fun free filled life. She thought that I would rather be sipping a glass of wine on a patio downtown. She thought that I would rather be making plans to go up North with my friends, she thought I would have rather been with single friends over the weekend and not friends with kids, and she thought I would rather be 20 years old. She will understand one day that we do not wish to go back. She will understand one day that we were her, not so long before. She will understand that a weekend with friends and family is a good weekend. She will understand that we really do love our life with kids and chaos. I looked at my confused cousin and said the words that my own father said to me once, “Where you are, I was; Where I am you can only hope to be.”
That’s my peace today!
Grilled Veggies with Shrimp (optional)
2 zucchini
1 eggplant
2 carrots
1 red onion
1 cup mushrooms
1/2 broccoli
1/2 cauliflower
1 cup olive oil
4 tbsp balsamic vinigar
salt and pepper
1 bunch chopped basil
2 tbsp oil and garlic (set aside)
Shrimp (Optional)
Cut or slice all veggies any shape you like. Put all veggies, shrimp (optional),and basil in a large bowl. Toss with oil and balsamic. Marinate for an hour in the fridge. Pour into a bbq veggie basket and grill for 15 minutes or until cooked but still somewhat crunchy. Remove from grill and add a little drizzle of oil and chopped garlic.
Over the weekend we had some friends over; friends with kids. You know what that means? If you don’t know what it means, I will tell you. It means cooking your meal with kids asking you for a glass of this and a cup of that. It means trying to calm kids down from their sugar rush from all the desert, the ice cream and the pop they happen to sneak.
Having a meal is just not the same once you have kids. Using a knife to cut your steak is a luxury because that means you do not have a kid on your lap, or close enough to your plate. Drinking a glass of wine is also something that just “changes.” The wine is the same, but for some reason it just does not go down as smooth as it once did when we were without children. But just the same, we drink it.
The day was fun and almost accident free, until the end of the night when my guests went home and my son was outside trying to get every ounce of sunshine that was left, when I suddenly heard a scream and then a “Oh my God...mommy, mommy, mommy!!!” I ran to see what had happened and I see Joseph holding his nose. Apparantly Joseph’s friend fell on his nose and face, and blood was streaming down his nose and from his lips. “Great”. Thankfully he was ok and all the kids finally had lights out.
The next day it was another “What the heck are we going to do today with the kids?” So I decided to take them to my aunt’s house. When we arrived, we were greeted by my aunt, uncle, and my 2 cousins. We sat and just began to chat. The kids were running around playing with the sprinkler and filling up water balloons, and the rest of us were sitting around the outdoor patio set. My cousin Victoria (who is 20) was chatting about life and what she was planning to do for the night. I just looked at my kids running amuck and I laughed. She then asked me, “Don’t you wish you were 20 again?” and I very quickly said, “NO WAY!” My aunt began to laugh because she “got it”. Victoria was very puzzled. She was curious to know why I would not want to be young again. I then explained to her, “I have been where you are, I do not want to go there again. That means I would have to do the whole “getting my first job” thing, “finishing school thing”, and then the “marriage thing”, “baby thing”, and I would have to start all over again.” I explained to her that I am looking forward to raising my kids, to watch them grow into adults. My aunt said, “Vic, she wishes she was me right now”..lol. and I laughed and I agreed. Victoria was confused because she thought it was weird that I didn’t want to be younger and that I looked forward to being 50. Anyone with kids gets it.
We don’t want to fast forward their little lives. We want to enjoy every God given day with them, but we definitely do not want to go backwards. We look forward to celebrating their graduation day with them. We look forward to celebrating their wedding day with them, and we look forward to celebrating the birth of their own children.
I do not look at these young girls that I see and wish I was them. Ok I admit, I miss having the little legs, and butt they have, but I do not want to be there again. I am happy with the days I am living. I am happy with the experiences I have gained along the way. I wish I knew then what I know now, because that’s the funny thing about being young; life does get better. Life changes and you learn to appreciate all the things you may have thought were boring 10 years before.
While we were sitting outside yesterday my cousin still didn’t get it. She thought that I should be envious of her fun free filled life. She thought that I would rather be sipping a glass of wine on a patio downtown. She thought that I would rather be making plans to go up North with my friends, she thought I would have rather been with single friends over the weekend and not friends with kids, and she thought I would rather be 20 years old. She will understand one day that we do not wish to go back. She will understand one day that we were her, not so long before. She will understand that a weekend with friends and family is a good weekend. She will understand that we really do love our life with kids and chaos. I looked at my confused cousin and said the words that my own father said to me once, “Where you are, I was; Where I am you can only hope to be.”
That’s my peace today!
Grilled Veggies with Shrimp (optional)
2 zucchini
1 eggplant
2 carrots
1 red onion
1 cup mushrooms
1/2 broccoli
1/2 cauliflower
1 cup olive oil
4 tbsp balsamic vinigar
salt and pepper
1 bunch chopped basil
2 tbsp oil and garlic (set aside)
Shrimp (Optional)
Cut or slice all veggies any shape you like. Put all veggies, shrimp (optional),and basil in a large bowl. Toss with oil and balsamic. Marinate for an hour in the fridge. Pour into a bbq veggie basket and grill for 15 minutes or until cooked but still somewhat crunchy. Remove from grill and add a little drizzle of oil and chopped garlic.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
1 label does not fit all
Monday night we celebrated my 9 year olds birthday party with his friends. His birthday was last month but because we were in transition of moving, he had to wait to have his party. He invited 15 boys from his school and he planned an outdoor hockey game.
Now a day’s many children suffer from allergies; something foreign to me when I was growing up. For some reason, allergies did not exist back in the day. I don’t remember my mother worrying about the food she would be serving at the parties, because kids were able to eat anything and everything.
I was very careful when I bought the food for the party. There are some kids in Joseph’s class that have specific food allergies. I planned to order pizza, make some chicken nuggets and fries. I went out on Sunday to prepare for the Monday night festivities. I read all the labels and I felt confident I was prepared. The cake was peanut free, and to be safe, I bought certified Nut free cupcakes for the children who suffer from a peanut allergy.
The party began right after school and everything was set up outside. I cut up some oranges, veggies and dip, some spreads with pita, and the pizza and other food was almost ready. The mothers who have children with allergies come prepared. In a total of 17 kids there was 1 boy with diabetes. His mom asked me to note what he eats because she needed to give him the appropriate amount of insulin. 1 boy brought his own food because he has a gluten allergy. 2 boys had peanut allergies; 1 boy a wheat allergy and another boy is allergic to sesame seeds.
I was very careful preparing the food. There was no peanut anything in sight and the party began. My friend Brenda (who is a mother to 1 of the boys) was there to help and another mother who has 2 boys with allergies was also there. The boys came periodically to munch on some snacks while they were playing and waiting for the food. As I was speaking to Luke’s mom (Diana), one of the boys (with the sesame allergy) says to me, “Diana, my tongue feels funny.” I stopped and looked at him and quickly asked, “What’s wrong?” I began to panic and tried to figure out why this kid who has an allergy would be saying something like that? I quickly asked him what he had eaten and he told me the pita bread. I ran to the kitchen to read the ingredients on the package (again) to make sure there are no sesame seeds and I realized it was ok and safe for him to eat. I just thought he was mistaken and that he was ok. Then he told me he ate the hummus that was there. I thought ok, it should be fine there is no sesame in that. I WAS WRONG! Apparently there is sesame paste in hummus! Only after I saw in small brackets that tahini is made with it. I again began to panic and I didn’t know what to do.
Diana (Luke’s mom) was an allergy expert so she quickly took action. She grabbed her purse and took out the Benadryl; I grabbed the phone to call his mother. I did not know what the heck I was going to say to this mother who trusted me with her son. When she answered I said, “Please don’t panic but Leandro had some hummus.” She automatically said, “oh no.” Then I freaked out again. She asked me some questions, “Is he coughing? Is he breathing ok? Is he swelling up?” I felt like I was in a daze and I did not even see what else was going on around me. “Oh my God, what should I do?” Diana grabbed his epi pen in his knapsack and was waiting. Leandro’s mom was on her way.
He seemed ok. He was not coughing, swelling or breathing funny. He did have a little rash on his lips and he was rubbing his eyes. I was trying so hard to keep calm but it was almost impossible to do. I began saying, “I am such a bad mother, I can’t believe what I did.” I had no idea that hummus has anything but chick peas and garlic? I kept an eye on him until his mother got there.
I kept approaching him and making sure he was ok. At one point when I went over to see him and look at his face he looked at me with his cute eyes and innocently asked me “Am I going to die?” My heart just stopped. I tried hard not to cry and hide under a rock and I said, “I will die before you..I promise.” I walked away and felt like I was the worst person in the whole world.
His mother arrived shortly after and assessed him. The Benadryl had helped and he was doing fine. I apologized over and over and she reassured me that it was not my fault and that he knows not to have hummus.
When I was planning my son’s 9th birthday, I thought about the food; I thought about the loot bags, and I thought about the entertainment. I thought I knew about the special risks for the kids with allergies. I thought I knew that an allergy is common and easy to plan for. I thought I knew that I should know what is safe and what is not. I could not have been more wrong. Ordering a cake that is peanut free was not enough. Reading the labels to make sure there are no nuts was not enough. Deciding if I should get vanilla or a chocolate cake was not enough, even if it guaranteed to be peanut free. Peanut free does not guarantee allergy free for all, because when it comes to allergies, 1 label does not fit all, and Monday night I experienced it first hand.
That’s my peace today!
Nut free Cupcakes
3 cups flour
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
3/4 tsp salt
12 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 1/2 cups sugar
4 large eggs
2 tsp vanilla extract
1 1/4 cups milk
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line muffin pan with cupcake holders or grease if you are not using holders. In a bowl whisk flour, salt and baking powder. In another bowl cream butter and sugar for 4 min. Add egg 1 at a time, beat in vanilla. Add flour mixture alternatly with milk in the butter mixture. combine and scoop into pan. Bake for 20 minutes.
Now a day’s many children suffer from allergies; something foreign to me when I was growing up. For some reason, allergies did not exist back in the day. I don’t remember my mother worrying about the food she would be serving at the parties, because kids were able to eat anything and everything.
I was very careful when I bought the food for the party. There are some kids in Joseph’s class that have specific food allergies. I planned to order pizza, make some chicken nuggets and fries. I went out on Sunday to prepare for the Monday night festivities. I read all the labels and I felt confident I was prepared. The cake was peanut free, and to be safe, I bought certified Nut free cupcakes for the children who suffer from a peanut allergy.
The party began right after school and everything was set up outside. I cut up some oranges, veggies and dip, some spreads with pita, and the pizza and other food was almost ready. The mothers who have children with allergies come prepared. In a total of 17 kids there was 1 boy with diabetes. His mom asked me to note what he eats because she needed to give him the appropriate amount of insulin. 1 boy brought his own food because he has a gluten allergy. 2 boys had peanut allergies; 1 boy a wheat allergy and another boy is allergic to sesame seeds.
I was very careful preparing the food. There was no peanut anything in sight and the party began. My friend Brenda (who is a mother to 1 of the boys) was there to help and another mother who has 2 boys with allergies was also there. The boys came periodically to munch on some snacks while they were playing and waiting for the food. As I was speaking to Luke’s mom (Diana), one of the boys (with the sesame allergy) says to me, “Diana, my tongue feels funny.” I stopped and looked at him and quickly asked, “What’s wrong?” I began to panic and tried to figure out why this kid who has an allergy would be saying something like that? I quickly asked him what he had eaten and he told me the pita bread. I ran to the kitchen to read the ingredients on the package (again) to make sure there are no sesame seeds and I realized it was ok and safe for him to eat. I just thought he was mistaken and that he was ok. Then he told me he ate the hummus that was there. I thought ok, it should be fine there is no sesame in that. I WAS WRONG! Apparently there is sesame paste in hummus! Only after I saw in small brackets that tahini is made with it. I again began to panic and I didn’t know what to do.
Diana (Luke’s mom) was an allergy expert so she quickly took action. She grabbed her purse and took out the Benadryl; I grabbed the phone to call his mother. I did not know what the heck I was going to say to this mother who trusted me with her son. When she answered I said, “Please don’t panic but Leandro had some hummus.” She automatically said, “oh no.” Then I freaked out again. She asked me some questions, “Is he coughing? Is he breathing ok? Is he swelling up?” I felt like I was in a daze and I did not even see what else was going on around me. “Oh my God, what should I do?” Diana grabbed his epi pen in his knapsack and was waiting. Leandro’s mom was on her way.
He seemed ok. He was not coughing, swelling or breathing funny. He did have a little rash on his lips and he was rubbing his eyes. I was trying so hard to keep calm but it was almost impossible to do. I began saying, “I am such a bad mother, I can’t believe what I did.” I had no idea that hummus has anything but chick peas and garlic? I kept an eye on him until his mother got there.
I kept approaching him and making sure he was ok. At one point when I went over to see him and look at his face he looked at me with his cute eyes and innocently asked me “Am I going to die?” My heart just stopped. I tried hard not to cry and hide under a rock and I said, “I will die before you..I promise.” I walked away and felt like I was the worst person in the whole world.
His mother arrived shortly after and assessed him. The Benadryl had helped and he was doing fine. I apologized over and over and she reassured me that it was not my fault and that he knows not to have hummus.
When I was planning my son’s 9th birthday, I thought about the food; I thought about the loot bags, and I thought about the entertainment. I thought I knew about the special risks for the kids with allergies. I thought I knew that an allergy is common and easy to plan for. I thought I knew that I should know what is safe and what is not. I could not have been more wrong. Ordering a cake that is peanut free was not enough. Reading the labels to make sure there are no nuts was not enough. Deciding if I should get vanilla or a chocolate cake was not enough, even if it guaranteed to be peanut free. Peanut free does not guarantee allergy free for all, because when it comes to allergies, 1 label does not fit all, and Monday night I experienced it first hand.
That’s my peace today!
Nut free Cupcakes
3 cups flour
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
3/4 tsp salt
12 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 1/2 cups sugar
4 large eggs
2 tsp vanilla extract
1 1/4 cups milk
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line muffin pan with cupcake holders or grease if you are not using holders. In a bowl whisk flour, salt and baking powder. In another bowl cream butter and sugar for 4 min. Add egg 1 at a time, beat in vanilla. Add flour mixture alternatly with milk in the butter mixture. combine and scoop into pan. Bake for 20 minutes.
Friday, May 14, 2010
I already had the baby
Yesterday I went by to see my sister and her new baby. She just got home from the hospital and she was resting upstairs. She was tired and sleepy, and baby Elizabeth was also snoozing away. I looked at my poor sister in bed. She was battered and bruised. Her arms had the needle pokes and so did her hands. She still had the wrist bands from the hospital on, and she had tape marks from the bandages pretty much everywhere. I couldn’t help but remember the first days of being home from the hospital after having my kids.
Being pregnant (for me) was wonderful. I felt good, I ate what I wanted and I was able to gain weight without feeling the guilt. I enjoyed every day of the 9 months I had to have my kids. I figured I would deal with the nonsense of weight loss later on. It doesn’t take much time to go from feeling beautiful and pregnant to feeling fat and ugly. Once you give birth the afterglow of pregnancy is far behind and so are all the cute stares and comments you get from complete strangers. I have not met one person who does not think a pregnant woman is adorable and precious. You are woman with child. You then become woman with “fat stomach”.
Everyone has their own advice to give you. “Breast feed and the weight comes off faster” or “don’t worry you’re weight will go back to normal after the swelling goes down.” So we wait. So we breast feed...and nothing. The last 10 pounds still belongs to someone else and we somehow do not remember having this body before we were pregnant?
A woman gives up a lot more than her freedom when she has a baby. She gives up the “why don’t my jeans zipper up anymore?” She gives up the “Do you want this shirt; it will never fit me on my boobs anymore?” It doesn’t mean that you won’t get back into shape. It doesn’t mean that you will never look great again. It just means that you will have to work at something you may not always have time for.
Our lives change once we have children. We want to go to the gym, but we may not have the time. We want to go for walks with our girlfriends, but our kids may not go to bed in time. We want to eat healthier, but we may not be able to sit down and actually eat what we should. A man may gain weight with us, but with 1 week of drinking extra water, they lose 10 pounds. That’s just the way it is.
I know my sister will bounce back and get back to her “old” self soon. I will look at her and think she looks beautiful and back to normal, but she probably won’t be satisfied until she can zip the jeans back up again. I eventually fit back into everything I wore before baby aliens invaded my body. I had the feeling of “OMG am I ever going to be me again?” but it happened. I didn’t think it would, but it did.
Yesterday I remembered a “situation” days after I gave birth to my twins almost 2 years ago. I had gone for a walk with the older 2 and there was a neighbour outside watering her plants. I felt pretty good; I even think I thought I looked good..lol. So she looked at me and said, “Holy Di, when the heck are you going to have those twins? It feels like you have been pregnant forever.”...lol..Well now I can laugh, but at the time I wanted to run in the house and hide...so I answered (knowing she would feel like crap)..” I had them 2 weeks ago.” She quickly said, “OMG, you were far, I couldn’t even see you”..lol. I actually felt bad for her because she is a mother and she knew how that must have made me feel. She made an innocent mistake.
A woman eventually gets back into the game. Although it seems foggy and blurry at first, we do get there. Sometimes we just don’t feel like working out. Sometimes we just don’t feel like eating healthy. Sometimes we just want to go to the drive-through and order a Big Mac. It’s ok to feel like that. It’s ok for my sister to feel like her insides are hanging out and to feel like she has been hit by a MAC truck and to see her husband walking around comfortably in his clothes he wore last week, because eventually she will zip up the jeans and button up the shirt again. She will become the woman she was. She will walk proud with her daughter in hand encountering another woman (who just gave birth) and she may accidentally ask her, “How many months are you?” and get that ever dreaded response no woman (or man) ever wants to hear...”I already had the baby.” Oops... and then she will continue on her merry little way, feel bad, but know that woman will eventually fit in her skinny’s again, just like she did.
That’s my peace today!
I made this a lot when I wanted something good but healthy
Buschetta Pita
3 pita breads
1 or 2 ripened tomatoes diced
1 clove garlic
fresh basil
salt and oregano
1/4 cup diced red onion
1/4 cup olive oil
Slice the pita in half and brush with oil. Bake in oven for 10 min at 375 degrees. In a bowl mix all the ingredients and the remaining oil. Once pita is ready evenly spread the tomato mixture on all slices of the baked pita.
Being pregnant (for me) was wonderful. I felt good, I ate what I wanted and I was able to gain weight without feeling the guilt. I enjoyed every day of the 9 months I had to have my kids. I figured I would deal with the nonsense of weight loss later on. It doesn’t take much time to go from feeling beautiful and pregnant to feeling fat and ugly. Once you give birth the afterglow of pregnancy is far behind and so are all the cute stares and comments you get from complete strangers. I have not met one person who does not think a pregnant woman is adorable and precious. You are woman with child. You then become woman with “fat stomach”.
Everyone has their own advice to give you. “Breast feed and the weight comes off faster” or “don’t worry you’re weight will go back to normal after the swelling goes down.” So we wait. So we breast feed...and nothing. The last 10 pounds still belongs to someone else and we somehow do not remember having this body before we were pregnant?
A woman gives up a lot more than her freedom when she has a baby. She gives up the “why don’t my jeans zipper up anymore?” She gives up the “Do you want this shirt; it will never fit me on my boobs anymore?” It doesn’t mean that you won’t get back into shape. It doesn’t mean that you will never look great again. It just means that you will have to work at something you may not always have time for.
Our lives change once we have children. We want to go to the gym, but we may not have the time. We want to go for walks with our girlfriends, but our kids may not go to bed in time. We want to eat healthier, but we may not be able to sit down and actually eat what we should. A man may gain weight with us, but with 1 week of drinking extra water, they lose 10 pounds. That’s just the way it is.
I know my sister will bounce back and get back to her “old” self soon. I will look at her and think she looks beautiful and back to normal, but she probably won’t be satisfied until she can zip the jeans back up again. I eventually fit back into everything I wore before baby aliens invaded my body. I had the feeling of “OMG am I ever going to be me again?” but it happened. I didn’t think it would, but it did.
Yesterday I remembered a “situation” days after I gave birth to my twins almost 2 years ago. I had gone for a walk with the older 2 and there was a neighbour outside watering her plants. I felt pretty good; I even think I thought I looked good..lol. So she looked at me and said, “Holy Di, when the heck are you going to have those twins? It feels like you have been pregnant forever.”...lol..Well now I can laugh, but at the time I wanted to run in the house and hide...so I answered (knowing she would feel like crap)..” I had them 2 weeks ago.” She quickly said, “OMG, you were far, I couldn’t even see you”..lol. I actually felt bad for her because she is a mother and she knew how that must have made me feel. She made an innocent mistake.
A woman eventually gets back into the game. Although it seems foggy and blurry at first, we do get there. Sometimes we just don’t feel like working out. Sometimes we just don’t feel like eating healthy. Sometimes we just want to go to the drive-through and order a Big Mac. It’s ok to feel like that. It’s ok for my sister to feel like her insides are hanging out and to feel like she has been hit by a MAC truck and to see her husband walking around comfortably in his clothes he wore last week, because eventually she will zip up the jeans and button up the shirt again. She will become the woman she was. She will walk proud with her daughter in hand encountering another woman (who just gave birth) and she may accidentally ask her, “How many months are you?” and get that ever dreaded response no woman (or man) ever wants to hear...”I already had the baby.” Oops... and then she will continue on her merry little way, feel bad, but know that woman will eventually fit in her skinny’s again, just like she did.
That’s my peace today!
I made this a lot when I wanted something good but healthy
Buschetta Pita
3 pita breads
1 or 2 ripened tomatoes diced
1 clove garlic
fresh basil
salt and oregano
1/4 cup diced red onion
1/4 cup olive oil
Slice the pita in half and brush with oil. Bake in oven for 10 min at 375 degrees. In a bowl mix all the ingredients and the remaining oil. Once pita is ready evenly spread the tomato mixture on all slices of the baked pita.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
She's all grown up now
Yesterday my “baby” sister had a baby. She had a baby girl by c-section at St.Mike’s hospital at 11:30am. This is her first baby. She is a very proud mother to a very beautiful baby whom she named Elizabeth.
We all knew she was going to have a c-section because it was already pre-planned. We also all knew that it was going to be a baby girl. Her and her husband Bryan got married last May and quickly decided to start a family. It feels like 9 months just flew by and before we all knew it, their baby came into the world.
As me, my sisters and my parents were waiting in the room for Bryan to bring out the baby we were laughing and chatting like old times. It was the “original” family. No husbands or kids were there, just the 5 of us (minus the baby of the family who was about to become a mother). We joked, we poked fun, we laughed and we reminisced. We were all very excited about this new arrival to the family. This was going to be the 7th grandchild to my parents and they were just as excited as they were when their first was born.
It was a little after 11am when they took her in and the whole hour of waiting felt like 10 hours. As we were in the hallway, and then listening in at the OR door...lol..we were excited to see this new little person. Finally, Bryan came out with this little pink bundle. We all ran toward her. All I can say is that she was 1 of the most beautiful baby girls I had ever seen. She had these red lips and black hair and the cutest little cry. It was a moment of instant love.
Bryan was a doting father and he was so proud of what he and Gina had “made” together. A short time later, the nurses wheeled my sister in to recovery room. We (as annoying as we are..lol) all ran into to see how she was doing. I looked at my “baby” sister who is no longer a baby, and I felt like crying. She is 8 years younger than me so it always felt like she was so young. Although I was younger than she is when I had my first, it felt like she was too young to be a mother. That was until I saw her with baby Elizabeth. She took her in her arms and she was a “mom”. My little sister was now a mother. She had her beautiful baby girl in her arms. I could not believe how natural she looked.
Motherhood just happens. It is something that you just “become”. It happens from 1 minute to the next. One minute you are pregnant, and the next you have a baby you nourish and automatically love. My sister has now joined the realm of parenthood. She now understands all the love and pain you feel when you become a mother. She now understands our own mother’s love for us.
She had just come out of a major surgery, she was tired and sore but she knew what to do. She knew how to feel. The nurses help you out, family gives you advice, and your mother just wants to take away all your pain from surgery, but it is my sister who was able to feed her daughter. It was my sister who was able to calm her cry, and it was my sister who will take her home.
Growing up, I always looked at my sister as little. Somehow she caught up. She was no longer so far behind; she was right along beside us. I remember the days of when she was in her crib crying, and the Halloween she dressed up as a Martian. I remembered the birthday when my friend and I had to entertain her classmates into having fun in our unfinished basement. I remembered her prom and how beautiful she looked, I remembered her wedding day, and then I remembered the night she told us she was pregnant.
My sister is a beautiful new mother now. She has a brand new life ahead of her. I am very proud of the person she has become and I wish her and her new family all the love, health and happiness in the world. I don’t know when it happened, but it did. My little sister is all grown up now and she has her own family to love and to take care of and somehow it all seems so natural now. Congratulations Gina and Bryan!
That’s my peace today!
this is a perfect recipe after having a baby
Pastina Soup with garden veggies
1 pack egg noodle pastina
1 bunch fresh spinach
2 carrots chopped
1 celerly chopped
1 white onion chopped
1 bunch parsley
1 whole peeled tomatoe
salt
Fill a pot with water and put all the veggies into it. Boil for 30 minutes and salt the soup. Add pastina and boil another 10 min. Add grated cheese (optional)
We all knew she was going to have a c-section because it was already pre-planned. We also all knew that it was going to be a baby girl. Her and her husband Bryan got married last May and quickly decided to start a family. It feels like 9 months just flew by and before we all knew it, their baby came into the world.
As me, my sisters and my parents were waiting in the room for Bryan to bring out the baby we were laughing and chatting like old times. It was the “original” family. No husbands or kids were there, just the 5 of us (minus the baby of the family who was about to become a mother). We joked, we poked fun, we laughed and we reminisced. We were all very excited about this new arrival to the family. This was going to be the 7th grandchild to my parents and they were just as excited as they were when their first was born.
It was a little after 11am when they took her in and the whole hour of waiting felt like 10 hours. As we were in the hallway, and then listening in at the OR door...lol..we were excited to see this new little person. Finally, Bryan came out with this little pink bundle. We all ran toward her. All I can say is that she was 1 of the most beautiful baby girls I had ever seen. She had these red lips and black hair and the cutest little cry. It was a moment of instant love.
Bryan was a doting father and he was so proud of what he and Gina had “made” together. A short time later, the nurses wheeled my sister in to recovery room. We (as annoying as we are..lol) all ran into to see how she was doing. I looked at my “baby” sister who is no longer a baby, and I felt like crying. She is 8 years younger than me so it always felt like she was so young. Although I was younger than she is when I had my first, it felt like she was too young to be a mother. That was until I saw her with baby Elizabeth. She took her in her arms and she was a “mom”. My little sister was now a mother. She had her beautiful baby girl in her arms. I could not believe how natural she looked.
Motherhood just happens. It is something that you just “become”. It happens from 1 minute to the next. One minute you are pregnant, and the next you have a baby you nourish and automatically love. My sister has now joined the realm of parenthood. She now understands all the love and pain you feel when you become a mother. She now understands our own mother’s love for us.
She had just come out of a major surgery, she was tired and sore but she knew what to do. She knew how to feel. The nurses help you out, family gives you advice, and your mother just wants to take away all your pain from surgery, but it is my sister who was able to feed her daughter. It was my sister who was able to calm her cry, and it was my sister who will take her home.
Growing up, I always looked at my sister as little. Somehow she caught up. She was no longer so far behind; she was right along beside us. I remember the days of when she was in her crib crying, and the Halloween she dressed up as a Martian. I remembered the birthday when my friend and I had to entertain her classmates into having fun in our unfinished basement. I remembered her prom and how beautiful she looked, I remembered her wedding day, and then I remembered the night she told us she was pregnant.
My sister is a beautiful new mother now. She has a brand new life ahead of her. I am very proud of the person she has become and I wish her and her new family all the love, health and happiness in the world. I don’t know when it happened, but it did. My little sister is all grown up now and she has her own family to love and to take care of and somehow it all seems so natural now. Congratulations Gina and Bryan!
That’s my peace today!
this is a perfect recipe after having a baby
Pastina Soup with garden veggies
1 pack egg noodle pastina
1 bunch fresh spinach
2 carrots chopped
1 celerly chopped
1 white onion chopped
1 bunch parsley
1 whole peeled tomatoe
salt
Fill a pot with water and put all the veggies into it. Boil for 30 minutes and salt the soup. Add pastina and boil another 10 min. Add grated cheese (optional)
Friday, May 7, 2010
Happy Mother's Day
This Sunday is another Mother’s Day. It is a special day of the year that highlights and recognizes the job of a mother. Kids prepare for it at school and husbands prepare for it in the morning of it at the nearest Shoppers Drug Mart..lol. It is a day that is dedicated to all the hard work we mothers endure all year round.
Every year it is different for me because the kids are getting older and their crafts are getting more professional looking. They bring me home special cards and poems in English, French and Italian too. I look forward to it because they are so proud to show me what they have done.
Mother’s Day to me means so many different things. It means that I am honoured by my own kids and it means I can do the same to my own mother. It is also a very hard time of year to people that no longer have their mother’s here on earth. I cannot imagine how painful that must be. I think the worst thing in the world (besides losing a child) would be to lose a mother.
A mother is more than just the woman who gave birth to you or raised you. It is more than just the woman that made you lunch every day and dinner every night. It is more than just the woman who cheered you on from the sidelines of the soccer field. It is more than the person who praised you in front of her friends.
A mother is someone who cleans your scrapes when you fall. A mother is someone who cooks your favourite meal on your birthday. A mother is someone who runs to your aid in the middle of the night when you have the stomach flu. A mother is the person who rushes you to the doctor when you tell her you have an unusual pain. A mother is someone who calls her friends to discuss some teenage issues you are going through. A mother is the one that you want to share all your wedding plans with, and she is the person you want to be standing beside you when you are about to become a parent. She is the one you call and ask for advice when your child is running a fever and you do not know why.
A mother has all the answers to the questions you did not even think of yet. She has all the remedies for all the little ailments that we suffer from. She is the person that will stand beside you when you are scared waiting for results in a doctor’s office. And she is the one that will cry harder than you if you didn’t get the answer you were hoping for.
A mother is a person who will never compete with you. She will never want you to go through all the mistakes she went through, but she will be smart enough to know that you will have to go through it on your own. A mother is a support group. A mother has her own support group.
A mother understands the pain of a broken heart. She understands that there will be many boys in your life but there will only be 1 man that will treat you the way you need to be treated. She understands that no man will ever be your father. She understands that sometimes you need to have a good cry. She understands that sometimes you need to have a good drink. She understands that 1 pair of black heels is not enough.
A mother is the woman we all hope to be. A mother is someone we always end up becoming. A mother is a role model for daughters. A mother is a role model for her sons. A mother is someone I always wanted to be. A mother is something I am so proud that I am. A mother is something that will always be the most important job in the world. A mother is someone that you will not be able to replace. A mother is someone you will always cherish. A mother is someone that always has your back. A mother eventually becomes your best friend.
This Sunday is a day to honour all mothers. It means more than the flowers in the vase, it means more than the chocolate in the box, it means more than the perfume in the bottle. It means you have been lucky enough to be a mother, to know a mother and to love a mother! Happy Mother’s Day to all the beautiful women who we call Mom.
That’s my peace today!
These cookies are my kids fav that we make together
Chocolate Chip Cookies
3/4 cup sugar
3/4 cup packed brown sugar
1 cup butter, softened
2 large eggs,beaten
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoon salt
2 cups semisweet chocolate chips
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Mix sugar, brown sugar, butter, vanilla and eggs in a large bowl by hand. Stir in flour, baking soda, and salt. Add chocolate chips by hand and use a wooden stick to stir. Drop 1 tbsp of dough, 2 inches apart. Cook for 8-10 min. (we prefer 8 min because they are extra chewy.
Every year it is different for me because the kids are getting older and their crafts are getting more professional looking. They bring me home special cards and poems in English, French and Italian too. I look forward to it because they are so proud to show me what they have done.
Mother’s Day to me means so many different things. It means that I am honoured by my own kids and it means I can do the same to my own mother. It is also a very hard time of year to people that no longer have their mother’s here on earth. I cannot imagine how painful that must be. I think the worst thing in the world (besides losing a child) would be to lose a mother.
A mother is more than just the woman who gave birth to you or raised you. It is more than just the woman that made you lunch every day and dinner every night. It is more than just the woman who cheered you on from the sidelines of the soccer field. It is more than the person who praised you in front of her friends.
A mother is someone who cleans your scrapes when you fall. A mother is someone who cooks your favourite meal on your birthday. A mother is someone who runs to your aid in the middle of the night when you have the stomach flu. A mother is the person who rushes you to the doctor when you tell her you have an unusual pain. A mother is someone who calls her friends to discuss some teenage issues you are going through. A mother is the one that you want to share all your wedding plans with, and she is the person you want to be standing beside you when you are about to become a parent. She is the one you call and ask for advice when your child is running a fever and you do not know why.
A mother has all the answers to the questions you did not even think of yet. She has all the remedies for all the little ailments that we suffer from. She is the person that will stand beside you when you are scared waiting for results in a doctor’s office. And she is the one that will cry harder than you if you didn’t get the answer you were hoping for.
A mother is a person who will never compete with you. She will never want you to go through all the mistakes she went through, but she will be smart enough to know that you will have to go through it on your own. A mother is a support group. A mother has her own support group.
A mother understands the pain of a broken heart. She understands that there will be many boys in your life but there will only be 1 man that will treat you the way you need to be treated. She understands that no man will ever be your father. She understands that sometimes you need to have a good cry. She understands that sometimes you need to have a good drink. She understands that 1 pair of black heels is not enough.
A mother is the woman we all hope to be. A mother is someone we always end up becoming. A mother is a role model for daughters. A mother is a role model for her sons. A mother is someone I always wanted to be. A mother is something I am so proud that I am. A mother is something that will always be the most important job in the world. A mother is someone that you will not be able to replace. A mother is someone you will always cherish. A mother is someone that always has your back. A mother eventually becomes your best friend.
This Sunday is a day to honour all mothers. It means more than the flowers in the vase, it means more than the chocolate in the box, it means more than the perfume in the bottle. It means you have been lucky enough to be a mother, to know a mother and to love a mother! Happy Mother’s Day to all the beautiful women who we call Mom.
That’s my peace today!
These cookies are my kids fav that we make together
Chocolate Chip Cookies
3/4 cup sugar
3/4 cup packed brown sugar
1 cup butter, softened
2 large eggs,beaten
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoon salt
2 cups semisweet chocolate chips
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Mix sugar, brown sugar, butter, vanilla and eggs in a large bowl by hand. Stir in flour, baking soda, and salt. Add chocolate chips by hand and use a wooden stick to stir. Drop 1 tbsp of dough, 2 inches apart. Cook for 8-10 min. (we prefer 8 min because they are extra chewy.
Monday, May 3, 2010
"I hate everybody but my parents"
We have been living at my parents’ house for the past week and a half. Our house is quite not ready so we had to bunk with the old folks for a while. It has been nice to be home. I probably would not do it for a very long time because I do not really miss my father reminding me that we have to walk in the kitchen every morning with a great big smile. (Even if it is 6am)
My parents have had a pretty busy year. They have been busy with all 4 of their daughters. A little bit here, and a little there. My older sister was living with them for a while they were waiting for their home to be ready, then we moved in right after, and my younger sister is having her baby next Monday. They have a lot going on, but they do what they can to help us all out.
My father is famous for being our “delivery” man. He is the kind of man that would get up from the couch at 10pm and go to Mac’s to get us a bag of chips because we felt like eating something salty. He just turned 70 and thank God that he has the energy of a 30 year old. He will do anything for us...and he does. My mother is also very helpful. She will whip up a meal last minute on a Sunday if we show up with all our screaming kids. She will do anything for us.
Yesterday I went to my house to start cleaning up the top floor so we can start putting our clothes away this week, and my parents came with me. My father was installing my door handles and my mother came along with 3 mops, 10 dishrags and a bottle of Pine Sol. As I was passing the vacuum, I looked up and I saw my mother in the tub scrubbing the tiles and then I looked over and saw my father screwing in the handles. At that moment I felt very lucky. I felt so fortunate to have my parents. We sometimes forget that we have them around because we are so busy living our own lives and asking them for favours, that we forget they are our parents.
These are the people that raised me and made me who I am today. They are the 2 people who love me unconditionally. They truly believe in me and my children and are proud of every little accomplishment we achieve. They are the 2 people who would give up anything for me.
As I stood there looking at my parents, I began remembering all the heartaches I gave them when I was growing up. All the times that I didn’t want my friends to see them drop me off or pick me up from a party. All the times I wanted then to just go away for a weekend to give me my own space. All the times I had to fib to have a good time with my other teenage friends. All the nights they stayed up waiting for me to get home safely. All these years later, they are still here by my side when I need them.
They have taught me that as a parent you do so much for your kids to make them comfortable and to keep them happy. They have taught me that I will still love them even when they say no. They have taught me that the things in Toys R’Us do not show love. They have taught me that being a grandparent is a lot less stressful and tiring than being a young parent. They have taught me that you never “finish” being a parent. There is no punch clock or calendar they follow. It is a never ending commitment of love.
As I stared at my parents working away yesterday I thought about a time my little sister was small. She knew already at 8 years that parents were special. She knew that parents were more than just parents. I don’t really remember what was going on; all I remember is that she was upset for something my sisters and I had done. As she had gone to her room, she shouted at the top of her lungs for the whole house to hear...”I hate everybody but my parents”...lol...we all just looked at each other and laughed. As angry as she was, she knew that the people who brought her into this world were the people she can never hate, and I guess 20 years later I finally understand what she really meant.
That’s my peace today!
Cheesy Bread
1 Italian loaf
2 cups shredded mozzarella
1 cup shredded provolone
2 whole cloves garlic
1/4 cup olive oil
Slice bread open like a book. Rub the garlic on all the bread. Sprinkle both cheeses in the bread, close and rub oil on outside of bread. Place on baking sheet and bake for 12-15 min (until cheese bubbles and is melted. Cut into 3 inch pieces.
My parents have had a pretty busy year. They have been busy with all 4 of their daughters. A little bit here, and a little there. My older sister was living with them for a while they were waiting for their home to be ready, then we moved in right after, and my younger sister is having her baby next Monday. They have a lot going on, but they do what they can to help us all out.
My father is famous for being our “delivery” man. He is the kind of man that would get up from the couch at 10pm and go to Mac’s to get us a bag of chips because we felt like eating something salty. He just turned 70 and thank God that he has the energy of a 30 year old. He will do anything for us...and he does. My mother is also very helpful. She will whip up a meal last minute on a Sunday if we show up with all our screaming kids. She will do anything for us.
Yesterday I went to my house to start cleaning up the top floor so we can start putting our clothes away this week, and my parents came with me. My father was installing my door handles and my mother came along with 3 mops, 10 dishrags and a bottle of Pine Sol. As I was passing the vacuum, I looked up and I saw my mother in the tub scrubbing the tiles and then I looked over and saw my father screwing in the handles. At that moment I felt very lucky. I felt so fortunate to have my parents. We sometimes forget that we have them around because we are so busy living our own lives and asking them for favours, that we forget they are our parents.
These are the people that raised me and made me who I am today. They are the 2 people who love me unconditionally. They truly believe in me and my children and are proud of every little accomplishment we achieve. They are the 2 people who would give up anything for me.
As I stood there looking at my parents, I began remembering all the heartaches I gave them when I was growing up. All the times that I didn’t want my friends to see them drop me off or pick me up from a party. All the times I wanted then to just go away for a weekend to give me my own space. All the times I had to fib to have a good time with my other teenage friends. All the nights they stayed up waiting for me to get home safely. All these years later, they are still here by my side when I need them.
They have taught me that as a parent you do so much for your kids to make them comfortable and to keep them happy. They have taught me that I will still love them even when they say no. They have taught me that the things in Toys R’Us do not show love. They have taught me that being a grandparent is a lot less stressful and tiring than being a young parent. They have taught me that you never “finish” being a parent. There is no punch clock or calendar they follow. It is a never ending commitment of love.
As I stared at my parents working away yesterday I thought about a time my little sister was small. She knew already at 8 years that parents were special. She knew that parents were more than just parents. I don’t really remember what was going on; all I remember is that she was upset for something my sisters and I had done. As she had gone to her room, she shouted at the top of her lungs for the whole house to hear...”I hate everybody but my parents”...lol...we all just looked at each other and laughed. As angry as she was, she knew that the people who brought her into this world were the people she can never hate, and I guess 20 years later I finally understand what she really meant.
That’s my peace today!
Cheesy Bread
1 Italian loaf
2 cups shredded mozzarella
1 cup shredded provolone
2 whole cloves garlic
1/4 cup olive oil
Slice bread open like a book. Rub the garlic on all the bread. Sprinkle both cheeses in the bread, close and rub oil on outside of bread. Place on baking sheet and bake for 12-15 min (until cheese bubbles and is melted. Cut into 3 inch pieces.
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