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.
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.)
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