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.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
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.
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