Reflections on 8 years

Tuesday was our wedding anniversary. It's hard to believe, but it has been 8 years since I made the long walk down the aisle with Hubby. Sometimes it feels like yesterday. We celebrated the day quietly, but perfectly. First, Hubby took the day off of work which was great. We got First son off on the school bus and then dropped the remaining cherubs at their grandparents house. We went to breakfast and then headed down to the beach. It was a beautiful day, and it was such a luxury to be able to go to the beach and not have to lug a million things. All we brought was a blanket and some sweatshirts. We lazed on the beach for a while, listening to the waves crash and actually having a conversation! It was pure indulgence. We took a long walk along the shore, till just before the nude beach (yuck). Then we went shopping for ingredients to make a nice dinner. We bought the kids TV dinners - a treat, since they've never had them ever before, and hubby even let them have ice cream for dessert! Then he tucked them away in bed while I set to creating a masterpiece menu. We had arugula with herbed goat cheese for a first course, then chicken saltimbocca and asparagus risotto for dinner. For dessert, a lovely peanut butter and chocolate tart that we picked up at the local bakery. All in all it was a heavenly day.

Reflecting on the past eight years, I realize that I am one lucky girl. I am still very much in love, with my very best friend. Hubby and I have been through a lot, much of it good, but some of it very bad. The thing is that we made it through together. We can take on anything at this point. My Hubby is funny (he especially thinks so); and he's smart; he's an incredible Dad (no, really - he has been known to take all three cherubs to the beach - by himself!); he is always there for me, whether I need a weather report, a bug extermination, or a recipe conversion; he is strong for me when I can't be for myself, and he always offers up some perspective when I think I've gotten myself into a corner. We share the same dreams (some people think we're building a soccer team, actually, it's a restaurant staff!). I don't know where I'd be without him. (Hollywood?, Broadway?) I look forward to the next eight years. I love you Hubby!

Mama's Eggs

I work at this neat little hole in the wall luncheonette/coffee shop every Sunday. The place seats a total of 22 people, including 10 counter seats, and the grill is right out in the open. From the looks of it, you'd expect nothing more than your typical greasy spoon, slinging eggs and hash. On the contrary, the cook/owner is a certified chef and former culinary instructor, with a four star resume. He puts up breakfast specials that are absolutely gourmet. This place is a gem, and I love working there in part because the money is great for 1 day's work, but also because I am a foodie and I learn and taste something new every time I walk through the door.
For the past few weeks we've had a special on the board, "Mama's Eggs". It is two eggs poached in marinara sauce, served with half a loaf of Italian bread and a slab of butter. It is amazing! The marinara sauce is incredible, and the addition of the eggs is brilliant. One of our regular customers is the chef's brother. He came in, looked at the specials board and asked "What's Mama's Eggs?" Chef looked at him (with a knife in his hand) and said "What are you kidding me? They're eggs the way Mom used to make them!" Of course he has been in practically every day ordering them. One day he even brought in two friends and his own loaf of bread!
This has got me thinking about the sentimental connections we have to food. Food is so much more than sustenance. Food connects us to the people we love whether they are here to share in the meal with us or not. For myself and my brothers and sisters food presents a strong connection to our late father. Sauerbraten, halvah, eggplant parmesan, Sabretts, Cheez Waffies, pea soup, Necco Wafers, Cheez Whiz and Ritz Crackers, Chef Boy-ar-dee, corned beef hash, Campbell's Tomato Soup, cream cheese & jelly, and black jelly beans. I can't eat, buy or even see any of these and not be instantly transported to some memory involving my Dad, they were his favorites right along with Schmidt's Beer and the occasional Cutty Sark. These foods are worth so much more to me than what their Nutritional Information label reveals. For me, a meal or a snack made up of these foods is like stealing time, an extra moment with Dad. Honestly, popping open a jar of Cheez Whiz may not be the best thing for my waistline, but it is a whole lot easier on my wallet than ten minutes with a psychic medium!

Smoking at the Bus Stop- Seriously??

Seven days of school, and already I have a queasy feeling in my gut. The cause of my ojeda?Smoking at the bus stop. Seriously? With your 6 year old standing right there? I am incensed! First of all, I take issue with smoking period. I don't understand how anyone under the age of 70 could be that stupid. (That's right, you are stupid!) There is no excuse for it. I will give a little leniency to recovering drug addicts and alcoholics who need to have a lesser evil, but even they should not be smoking on the bus stop for crying out loud.
So, there is this guy, dare I call him a "dad"? who each morning is standing at the bus stop (did I mention it's a bus stop for kindergartners and first graders?) puffing away on his cancer stick. What to do??? Well, I don't want to get into an argument with the guy in front of the kids, so I kind of just stand back for a few days, figuring that once First Son is safely on the bus I can have a peaceful, grown-up chat with Joe Camel. Not so much, as an added show of concern for the well being of his offspring, Mr. Camel leaves the bus stop as soon as he sees the bus approaching. Argh. I mentioned it to the school principal last night at the PTA meeting, hoping she would be able to do something, but of course she cannot offer me anything more than a simple "thank you for being concerned." (Thank me? for being concerned? about my child?- there's a whole 'nother post.)
The other concern is, I don't want to piss this guy off, since he knows where I live - the bus stop is right in front of mi casa, and make him gather up his gang banger friends to come throw machetes in my backyard-again. I figure, I am going to have to see this guy at the bus stop every day for the rest of the year, so, I don't want to make an enemy. At the same time, I need to say something, because not only is his smoking posing a health hazard for me and my children, but it is undermining the values I am trying to teach them as well. My friend SBW, she is a vigilante. She tells anyone and everyone exactly what they are doing wrong in her eyes. On one hand, I admire her for being gutsy, on the other hand I don't want to be like her, because she isn't always the most tactful, and I think she pisses more people off than she rehabilitates.
I decide that I will take the "get more bees with honey" approach. I will say it with a smile. Today, I go to the bus stop a few minutes early, and there he is only...no cigarette! Is this a victory, or was he just between smokes? Methinks the latter. I walk right up with my bedhead and smeared mascara (it is 7:30 AM, and let's face it I live in a 9AM world) , smile and say, "good morning, I am sorry I didn't get you name, I met your wife last week." He says "Jose" I said " Hi Jose, I am Patricia, nice to meet you." " He smiles, then turns back to searching for the elusive yellow wagon. Jose Jr. pipes up "My Mom is not his wife". Shocking!
So tomorrow, my new friend Jose and I can have a friendly chat - I mean, we are on a first name basis now and all. I will smile politely and say " I don't mean to put you on the defensive, and you probably don't even realize it's a problem, but do you think you might be able to wait a few minutes until the bus pulls away before you light up?" Thanks Jose.
If that doesn't work, look for the FOR SALE sign on my lawn. We just don't fit in in this neighborhood.

God Bless America

While the storm clouds gather far across the sea,

Let us swear allegiance to a land that's free,

Let us all be grateful for a land so fair,

As we raise our voices in a solemn prayer.

God bless America, land that I love

Stand beside her and guide her

Through the night with the light from above

From the mountains To the prairies,

To the ocean white with foam

God bless America, My home sweet home.

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Today, like every September 11th since 2001, is a somber day. I tried to watch on TV, as the names of the victims were being read, but Curly kept whining at me to put on her show, and anyway, I was afraid I'd have to explain the tears that I could not hold back, and I don't know how to do that, so I shut the TV off altogether. First Son's school is marking the day today, by making patriotic pinwheels and planting them around the school. Theirs is the first class in the school who were not even born when the tragedy occurred (although several of them I am sure were conceived in the days and weeks following). I wonder what FS will have to say about it when he comes home, I wonder how I will respond. These are the days when I know that it is easier to be the parent of a baby, than it is of a child who walks, talks and thinks. Once they start to think, they can be afraid and confused. As a parent it is my job to ease their fears, to help them work through their confusion. I don't know how to do that today, I am sometimes still afraid and I am confused. What I do know, is that I live in the greatest country in the world, regardless of any mistakes our nation may or may not make. What I know is that I , and my husband were both blessed to have parents who were brave enough, and strong enough to leave their homes to come to this country so that we, and our children could fully enjoy all of our freedoms. What I also know is that those Freedoms do not come for free.
I will teach my children to love, and respect and bring honor to their country. I will teach them that they must fight for and protect their freedoms. And I will teach them that no matter what, they are American, something of which they are to be fiercely proud, just as my father taught me to be. God Bless America.

There were doubts but...

We did it. We survived the first day of school (we, because I deserve at least as much credit as First Son). And with flying colors, I might add. It wasn't easy getting up and having everything ready, since we had just gotten home from Disney at 9PM the night before, but we did it. First son climbed right up the steps of the bus and waved back to us with a great big smile. I waited until the bus pulled away and then broke down sobbing, as was my right. I did NOT, however, get in my car and follow the school bus, which is more than I can say for some of my neighbors. Yeah! me!

My little baby boy, who just 5 years and one month ago was cradled safe and snug in my arms, is now out in the world, without me. It is hard to believe it, because it really does go by so fast. That is what everybody (especially older people) tells you when you are a parent of young children, "enjoy it, it goes so fast" It really does.

For the past five years my little guy has been by my side every single day. All of a sudden I see him for half an hour in the morning and then boom, he's off on the yellow wagon till the dredges of the afternoon roll around. By ten in the morning I looked at hubby and said " I am so lonely". So, I baked a cake. It came out pretty good too, at least I think so. (come on stroke my ego a little, I could use it)

First son had a great time at school, where he was greeted by his favorite stuffed animal, Super Bear (his real name!) His teacher is nice, Hubby and I went up and met her in the afternoon, and I have filled out the form to become "class mother". I will know in a few days if I get it or not. So, first PTA meeting is set for 9/17. As I said, once I made the decision to go ahead with the public school thing I would jump in with both feet. Whee!

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