Tearing Down the House

I am grateful for all the children in my life.  Even when they're doing their best to tear the house down and kill themselves in the process.

My dear friend Yasmeen has twin boys, 18 months old:  "Y" and "Z."  Neither she nor her husband has family locally and she has never left the children with anyone but their father.  She has recently been having health problems, though, and when the doctor's office called to say a time slot had opened up in the afternoon, she had to take it.  I was just so excited and honored when she asked me to watch the boys!  I offered to go to their apartment, but Yas decided to bring them here.

Just to say, I am a loving and competent baby sitter.  But these guys were way faster than me.  And somehow in the years since Gem was little, my house has become filled with sharp corners exactly at toddler eye level, drawers and doors waiting to pinch little fingers, lamps just a touch away from crashing to the floor and cutting small bare feet.

The minute Yas left, they were off and running in opposite directions.  I wrangled them downstairs and outside.  We went for a walk during which they attempted to throw themselves in front of moving cars, insert their fingers into the mouth of the neighbor's German shepherd, and enter every house on the block.

The nice lady two doors down has several cats.  Which eat from several bowls stashed around the front porch.  How was I to know that Y and Z love cat food?  Actually, I can remember a time when Gem ate it every chance she got too.

Hey, it's got nutrients.

When we got home, they played the piano with Gem and Y helped me cook supper.  He's quite the chef given his own empty pot and wooden spoon.  Perfect timing:  they started to get fussy just as I was ready to serve.  Gem and I put some old tee shirts over their clothes to serve as bibs and spooned them full of pasta and meatballs.

I could see them starting to rub their eyes and get a little whiny, so I felt a bath was in order.  Cue wailing and tearing of hair.  And that was just to get their clothes off.  I thought for sure once they got into the tub all would be well.  All children love to play in the water, right?  Wrong.  Now I know.

Thank goodness that's just when Yas returned with o.k. news from the doctor (not terrible; not great) and a little time spent all by herself.  (Bless her.)  And a Y and Z so happy to see their mommy!

After everyone left, Gem and I just looked at one another, dazed.  Really, my hat is off to mothers of twins.  I am in awe of what Yas does every day with such grace and serenity.

And Gem and I are already planning what to do next time we get to spend an evening with Y and Z. (Big smile!)

Thief of Time

When we bought our house a couple of years ago we redid lots of things, but we couldn't do it all.  Some things had to wait until we have the money and/or time.  Kitchen appliances seemed to be in working order, so they stayed.

Unpredictable dishwasher

The dishwasher was one of these.  It's a temperamental creature that needs just the right touch or else it pouts and all its lights go off.  Usually it works o.k., but it seems to go out on strike at random times.  Sometimes even if it "works," the dishes don't get clean.  

New HD "Dishwasher"

So about a year ago, we decided that we needed a more reliable appliance.  We entered the appliance store with that plan in mind.  Somehow, when we left the store, instead of a dishwasher for me, we had a 42" HD television set for my husband.  


I'm still not sure how it happened.  A year later, the new has still not worn off of our HD "dishwasher."  It gets the internet so our Netflix instant download movies are always on tap.  It has a DVR, so there are always several episodes of Antiques Road Show or What Not to Wear or something just lined up.


Therein lies the problem.  I've never been a big TV watcher, mostly because at any given time there is nothing on that I want to watch.  But now...well...when I'm folding clothes or ironing or sewing and no one is home...it's so tempting to turn it on.  Next thing I know, it's 2 hours later and I haven't got anything else done.  Television is truly the thief of time.


Being grateful.......I am grateful to have my old cranky dishwasher and my new HD dishwasher.  Thankful that my family finds things on the infernal machine to laugh about and talk about.  Now, I need to step - away - from - the - dishwasher.

23 Reasons for a Happy Anniversary

My Sweetie and I recently celebrated our 23rd wedding anniversary. 23 years later, we have some very different ideas about what is really important in life.  I know I've changed a lot from that young woman in a white dress and veil.  I've had a wonderful partner in this journey, someone who learns with and teaches me every day.

Here are 23 (of the many) things I've learned from my husband:

1. Slow down; if it's important, it will still be there tomorrow.
2. When you're listening to someone, just listen.  Don't be thinking about what you're going to say.
3. Take naps.
4. Eat slowly.
5. Eat dessert.
6. Eat just a little dessert.
7. Do big jobs a little at a time.
8. Make time for love.
9. Laugh more often.
10. Let it go.
11. The very old and very young can do whatever they want.
12. I am a great cook.
13. I am loved.
14. Family is the most important thing.  We are family.
15. I can count on my Honey.
16. Honesty is always best; don't take shortcuts.
17. Be patient.
18. Give bad news in private; good news in public.
19. Take vacations.
20. Do what you love.
21. Breakfast for supper is better than going out to eat.
22. I don't have to say everything I'm thinking.
23. It's o.k. to disagree -- and still love.

Thanks for everything, Sweetie

I Love the Rain

I really love the rain.  Our average annual rainfall here is well over 60 inches, which suits me just fine.  

Some days are so hot that when it first starts raining it steams right back up off the street for a few minutes.  The rain cools everything off and gets the temperature down into the 70s -- even in August.  That's saying something.  

Also, we have an old house that has settled a little lumpy in places.  If it doesn't rain for a while, the soil shrinks and my back door doesn't open so well.  I am a woman of simple needs.  To turn the handle and feel the smooth opening and closing of a door gives me a certain contentment.  To turn the handle and strain, push and shove against a crooked frame jangles me a little.

I am lucky enough to have a comfortable back porch on which I can enjoy the rain and a cup of tea at the same time.  It's upstairs among the trees and my favorite place to be in the rain. It's a luxury to drink in the fresh smell and gentle murmur of a morning shower.  So grateful for it.

Shadow Shot Sunday 2

I took this a few weeks ago when I was in Paris.  The sun came out for a little while that morning creating shadows that brought into dramatic relief the carvings of some amazing Greek statues in the courtyard of the Louvre.  This is a detail of a horse's tail.  I was struck by the dynamic movement the sculptor captured so long ago.  I could almost hear the galloping hooves. 

Now we're back home.  Summer in south Louisiana is way hotter different  than the summer in France.  Back home, there are other beauties.

One New Orleans beauty is okra.  Do they eat it in other parts of the world?  It's fresh in all the markets (and gardens) right now.  It's used in a variety of old-fashioned recipes.  One of my favorites is okra and tomatoes with shrimp.  I made it yesterday to much husbandly acclaim (and daughterly tolerance).

Here's my recipe:

1 1/2 pounds okra cut into 1/3 inch thick "coins" (frozen is o.k.)

1 medium onion, chopped coarsely

a couple of tablespoons of diced garlic

2 large tomatoes diced (chunky)

2 tablespoons of olive oil

1lb. shrimp, peeled and deveined

salt

1 teaspoon cayenne pepper

black pepper

I actually don't measure ingredients all that much.

1. In a large cast-iron skillet to medium-high and sautee onions until translucent
2. Add cut up okra and garlic.  Stir frequently until sliminess is gone.  Add water whenever it looks dry and/or starts to stick.
3. Add tomatoes and cook until just heated, add cayenne pepper
4. Stir in shrimp, sautee until just pink
5. Salt and pepper to taste

I love it with corn bread -- so sweet!  But right now it's so hot (and muggy) here you could cut the air with a knife outside and I didn't want to heat up the kitchen with baking.  I got a crusty country loaf from the bakery.

There aren't too many ways to go wrong; like most traditional recipes there are as many variations as there are cooks.  There's only one rule when cooking fresh okra:  choose younger, smaller pods.  When the pods are too large, they're tough and fibrous.

When Gem was little, she would stick the stem ends of the okra to her forehead and pretend to be a space alien.  I'd stick them to my face too and chase her around.  I remember doing that with my brother and sisters when I was little.  How many other kids were okra space aliens?

On the stitching front, I'm almost finished my niece's butterfly:

I'm excited and think she will really like it.  Yay!

Coexist

My grandparents, though their families had been in Louisiana since before it was a part of the U.S., spoke only their French dialect as young children.  When they began school (in the years before 1920), there was a new idea about what it was to be a "good" American.  It meant to be assimilated into the blander greater culture.  They were punished severely (and I imagine incomprehensibly) if they spoke any language other than English.  

Within a generation, their language was made academic.  I studied French in high school.  Lucky for me, I also studied at a French university and really learned the language.  I tried to give my daughter, Gem, the best of both worlds so she is bilingual.  In that way it's come full circle.  

Did you know that (contrary to popular opinion) the United States has no official language?  Yep, and I say that's a good thing.  People always do and always will find a way to get things done across a language/religious/cultural/regional divide.

Some countries have 2 or more official languages:  Switzerland has 4 and they're doing all right.

What it is that makes us want to either be like everyone else or make everyone else like us?  Why can't we just enjoy who we are and enjoy others as they are?  Is it too Kumbaya to think we can?  

I can walk around my neighborhood and find people with many different religions, languages, cultures, and families.  I consider each to be a friend, would gladly go out of my way to help any of them, but don't necessarily look, act, talk, or think like them.  

This was all driven home to me recently when our family returned from a trip to France.  Gem had been there the whole summer; my husband and I just a couple of weeks.  I couldn't believe the negative remarks people made about France and the French.  Whether or not I agree with a country's policies, I would never assume that all its citizens are in lockstep agreement with it.  (I sure don't agree with many U.S. policies.) 

Here's what I think about the French:

• They love their children and want the best for them.
• They value family and friends.
• Most live their lives according to what they see as right and good.  And are doing just fine.
• They eat very well.
• The graffiti artists in Paris are ingenious; how do they get into those spots?

All of which I could say about any other people in any other place.  We're all richer when we make connections rather than divisions.

Baby Whispering

My husband and daughter call me "The Baby Whisperer," because my superpower is the ability to make all babies love me.  Really that's not true.  My real talent is the ability to love all babies.  Babies just recognize this and respond in kind.

I am always respectful -- I'm not a grabber, toucher, or kisser of babies I don't know.  But I am irresistibly drawn to make eye contact, smile, and play a game of peek-a-boo.  Since I have the great good fortune to work with young children (0 to 3 years) who have special needs and their families, my baby whispering skills are a great asset to me on the job.

Baby whispering isn't enough, though.  Parent whispering is often the skill I need even more.  Lucky for me, I have a heart to love parents too.  I am in a very privileged and delicate position, entering (intruding into?) a home, a family.  I often wonder how they can bear it; sometimes emotions are so raw and close to the surface.

One gorgeous little boy (M) has so many physical, cognitive, and medical needs that no less than 6 different therapists/care providers come into his home each week.  By the time I arrive on Friday mornings, I can tell Mommy and Daddy are exhausted.  

Last Friday it was obvious that they were distraught over their latest bad news.  They've already been through so much.  I fought my instinct to smooth it all over with optimistic cheer and just listened with all my heart.  I didn't agree or disagree as they talked for a couple of hours.  I tried to keep my expression neutral and not insult them with pity. 

Not for the first time, I tried to imagine what it is like to expect and plan for a new baby, only to relinquish cherished dreams over and over again as first one, then another and another obstacle is placed in your sweet boy's path.  And still find a way to hope; talk about grace under pressure.

I'm not saying that these (or any) parents are paragons or any such saccharine sentimentality.  But I do believe that it takes a special talent to find dignity, humor, and hope in the face of such continued opposition.

That is a real superpower.  M's parents have such gallant optimism about the future because they have a talent for love.  I am grateful to witness and be part of their love for sweet M.  The trick is that we see and value all of M -- not just focus on the disability.

M has worth all on his own whether or not he does the same things the same way other children his age do.  Not everybody gets that -- but I am lucky to see it.  M's parents and I made a list of all the things we love about him:

• liquid brown eyes with long, long lashes
• all boy!  He loves motorcycles and will turn his head whenever he hears one on the street
• dimples when he smiles
• the way he totally relaxes against my chest when we're reading Good Night Moon
• a fighter!  He does not like to roll from tummy to back and lets me know.
• the way he gurgles and smiles when his brother's new puppy licks his hand
• He spits out his sweet potatoes just like my daughter used to.
• Until Daddy says, "All right now, M.  Is that manners?" with that stern daddy voice.
• He's a football fan.  M shows real pleasure watching the big game with daddy, brother, and cousins.
• No one else will do but Mommy when he wakes in the night.  (a blessing and a curse!)
• If he is fussy anytime, he will instantly calm when Mommy sings "Sleep Baby."  Just her voice across the room ("I'm coming, Honey!") is often enough to make him content.
• Big brother plays too rough with M...and M loves it!  Like that time he took him outside to play in the sprinkler...

Well, the real list is way longer than this, but I am already more in love with M than ever just looking at these few things.  What more could any little boy be than M already is?

Happy birthday, Special Boy!  Today you make two, a real milestone.   I'm wearing black and gold for your favorite team.